Time off!

It’s been quite a long time since I’ve written anything (or even thought of writing, to be honest). So, I decided to try out the Muslim thing. I say it so blase, but it shouldn’t be taken lightly. It’s a pretty hardcore religion, if you want to know the truth. Ramadan is NOT a time to join. Fasting is one of the hardest things I’ve ever tried to do. No food from morning prayers (about 90 mins before sunrise), to sunset. Not even water. I read some very religious questions online about fasting, like taking cold medicine, or having an IV. It was pretty crazy, tbh. I was surprised at the level of dedication. Regular Catholics (not dedicated ones, but normal ones) have no want or need to follow 85% of the rules. The children have sex before they’re married, they eat meat on Fridays, they don’t go to mass, they don’t pray the rosary, etc. Muslims not only fast for an entire month when you can only eat and drink when its dark, but they cover themselves (which isn’t easy either), pray five times a day (which is hard when you work or go to school), and they don’t date.

I have several muslim friends, both in the US and UK. Some wear hijab (most do, actually) but not all. ALL of them date. They date muslims, non muslims, etc. They sit in cars with men that aren’t their immediate family, and they go out with just guys. Now, they aren’t supposed to, but they do. As a western considering ‘reverting’, the arranged marriages rule doesn’t work, nor is it practical for the 21st century. I am an independent woman, I live on my own, and I take pride in being able to choose for myself. My parents do nothing to control my life anymore except to make sure I have enough money to shop at Safeway.

Still considering things on this end. I’ve tried to fast (it’s difficult when you’re sick), and worn long sleeves and looser clothes, as well as prayed. It is a very different lifestyle. I’ll post an update later on the first time I wore my hijab in public.


A full week of thinking

It’s been a whole week since I thought about religion, and surprisingly enough, I’ve prayed. I know how weird that sounds. I’ve quit choir altogether. My work schedule conveniently changed, which doesn’t allow me to sing anyways, but I made the decision before it changed. I’m really interested in Islam, but at the same time, not so interested in the flack I’ll get from everybody. My parents probably won’t speak to me, or they’ll think I’m being irrational. Jason would probably break up with me. I’d most likely lose all of my friends, especially if I chose to wear hijab. I’ve gone in public in hijab multiple times. I don’t really get stared at very much – people just ignore me for the most part. If they point, it’s because there’s a white girl in hijab.

I’m tempted to try to fast for Ramadan. I have an appointment set up for Wednesday night to talk to someone at the mosque. I don’t want to be forced into it. I think what I want the most is information on the religion and what I have to do to join (if that’s what I want, eventually). I wish some of my friends who read this would let me know what they think. Surprisingly enough, I do take their opinions to heart.

I’m going to go read for awhile. I picked up a copy of the Qu’ran, so I’ll see what Muhammad has to say.


I’ve thought for awhile now. Yes yes, you can make the joke “Ha! Glad you started!” but I’m attempting to be serious. I’ve decided, for now, to stop going to choir, and to cease going to church. I feel as though it’s better until I can figure things out. I’ve heard from a few people to just make my own religion – if I believe in a higher power, then I should pray to Him, etc. But, that doesn’t work for me. I need a structured religion and guidelines to follow. I can’t just make up my own God and hope I go to Heaven. Oh no, that’s pretty much being a ‘neo-christian’ or a ‘cafeteria catholic’ as we called them. Take what you want of the religion, and leave the rest. That’s not how religion works. That’s a belief, not a structured system. I need structure and community. I also don’t want to be a religion shopper. That’s when you go from one religion to the next, hopping around, being a strong follower of each one. I may find that I want to stick with Christianity (except for the whole Jesus is just a guy and not the son of God). I’m not really cool with that part. A lot of it makes sense, but not that.

And, well… it just seems too easy. It should be a bit of work to get into Heaven, not just a “Jesus is in my heart” and that’s it. There’s also the living the word thing. I know plenty of people who worship, but once they leave church, you can’t tell they’re religious or that they

Maybe he’s gone?

I sat here tonight thinking I should be honest with people. I had to be honest with the guy I just dated, saying that I just got out of a very bad relationship, and to be patient with me for the first bit. He was okay with it, and seemed happy that I told him and was up front with it. Talked to Joe, and said “Yes, I know about her, but it’s a moot point” bla bla bla. The rest of the conversation was me saying that he’s not allowed to say anything emotional to me ever again or I’d go insane (to put it very bluntly), and he told me he loved me (again), and I said (again) that he couldn’t say that anymore b/c it messed w/ my brain. Emotional games are not ok.

So, hopefully after many pints of soy ice cream and cans of pop, I’ll be okay. This really isn’t the best week to be upset, since my degree hinges on my friday exam. *shudders* Am I nervous? You betcha.

Another note: Kitty is sneezing a lot, and I don’t know if it’s allergies (I keep the windows open a lot, and my house is pretty dusty), or if he has some sort of bacteria. I dunno what to do :-S

The utmost girly question.

Do you think I’m fat?

How many times have you heard a girl ask that? Once? Ten times? One hundred times? Once a day? I know I’ve asked that question a few times a week since I realised people actually care about what you look like (I think I was about 11 years old). Eleven?! That’s not even old enough for Middle School. But, now at 22, why should I still care? Because people comment. People say things, and even if they’re trying to help, they end up hurting.

I know I am a very pretty girl. I have beautiful eyes, my face is somewhat symmetric, I take time to do my hair, and I have cheekbones. “Enough, Kristin!” you say. “We know you love yourself.” Well, that’s just it, isn’t it? I know I’m 160 lbs, and only 5’6″. That’s (barely) over the limit for how much I should weigh. But at the same time, I can run a 7 minute mile, I can leg press more than my body weight, and I feel as though I’m a fairly decent soccer player. So why am I fat? Well, according to not most, but all of my friends, I’m not. So why does my mum say I am? Because she has a body image problem. The most she’s ever weighed was 135, and she says, “Oh, I had to have worn a size 12! Bla bla bla.” Well, news flash, I wear a 10-12, and you can hardly say you were my size. She’s not all that much shorter than me either, at a scant 5’4″. She’s like a rod in real life… very bony everywhere. Steven and Leo are that way too. Dad was really tall and skinny when he grew up, and still has chicken legs despite having a huge gut. I’m just not built like they are (for some strange reason, I’m also not a towhead and have blue eyes like they do either…) So why does she feel the need to pick on me?

“You’ve gained 15 lbs since you’ve been at OSU!”
“Yes… the freshman 15 have yet to go away.”
“But you lost all of that when you had your tonsils out.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t eat for two weeks. You’d lose 15 lbs too.”
“I just think you should try to lose weight.”
“You think I’m running for fun or something? Seriously, when was the last time you ran a 5k?”
“Well I probably couldn’t.”
“That’s right. And muscle weighs more than fat.”
“You still need to-“

It just went on and on! Now that my ego is thoroughily squished and snuffed from existence, I want to go crawl under a rock and die. Just yesterday I thought I looked hot in my soccer shorts. I was even checked out at the gym. This morning before church, I was told I looked gorgeous by someone whoI know wouldn’t lie to me. So, coming from him, that means the most. But now… I don’t even feel like I can run in shorts. I’m probably going to drag my capris out and wear those for the rest of the summer. Skirts? Forget it. I’m too fat. Why would she do something like that right after I’ve had to cancel wedding plans and had the worst upset anyone could ever have? You know, I really do appreciate her honesty, but for god sakes woman, don’t tell me now!!! I can’t handle crap like that now!

Looks like the beach is out for me. I was going to go to San Gregorio beach when I get home in a few weeks to go play some volleyball and to build sand castles and such, but now I don’t feel as though I can even wear a swimsuit. Has it really come down to that?