half past nomad

Their are 55 hrs and 37 min left to go until the big event. Everyone’s wondering what’s going on in my mind, so here’s a glimpse of the fragmented thoughts going on.

1. Apartment’s nowhere near ready for her, and I need to get stuff better arranged for her.

2. Gotta do laundry

3. Xiaolin Showdown is such a kewl cartoon.

4. Coldfeet? Grooms get coldfeet? Just wear a 2nd pair of socks yo.

5. I just found out that at the wedding their will be an MSA meeting going on….which just goes to show that no matter what is happening MSA work never stops.

6. Hotdogs. I want a hotdog. That an some really good pizza.

7. Do I have socks to go with the wedding outfit?

8. Dang, I should update that blog thingy.

9. I really do need to get that laundry done. I’m leaving ‘morrow.

10. I hope blah can make it. I havn’t seen them in forever.

11. Oh, I got Gmail!

12. I should go to the gym….but will one more time really make a bit of difference?

13. I’m glad that Akds will be there, but sad that Waleed won’t be. But atleast his younger bro will be there.

14. Wanna take a nap.

15. Dang…if I don’t save this now, I’ll have to change the title to 55 hrs and 36 min left to go.

A friend of mine asked me to Quantify my punctuality. Here’s my response.

Depends on the situation. I use a simple differential equation formula that I created.

It takes into account different situations, and variables. The main variables are:

1. Culture of where I’m going. If I’m going to an American event, I’m supposed to be on time. If I’m going to a mixed Desi event I want to try to arrive 37 minutes late. If it’s a total Hydro event, then I want to try to be 53.2 minutes late. If I’m going to an Afghani event, then I want to try to be somewhere between 9-16 minutes early. The better I know the people, the earlier I am.

2. If it’s a Masjid event, it’s a functional variable. If the event is Salat then it’s something in which I need to arrive about 3.7 min early. If it’s something that doesn’t involve Salat, then I need to arrive about 12.6 min late. For events in which I need to do Wudu, then I need a multiplier of 1.5 to that.

3. Culture of the city in which I’m in. I use the Malaki madhab and assume that the norms of the culture in which I’m in are acceptable. So if the city assumes that I’m going to be late then I need to subtract that from the other times. For Chicago I’m always an extra 43 minutes later. For Louisville it’s only 12 minutes. Bloomington is only 8. Hydrobad is an extra 73.9 minutes.

4. My role in the event. If I’m a participant then this variable is a 1. If I’m the man center of attention then I’m later by a log variable of y=ln x. The more vital I am, the later I am. For my wedding, I’m important so I come in late. If I’m the Khateeb I come in later, but it’s still acceptable. The Khateeb is supposed to come in at the 2nd Adhan, not the 1st Adhan so it’s acceptable.

5. There are other variables also. If I hate the event then I come in an extra 10.3 min later. If I have something else to do afterwards, then I come in -5.1 min later, so that I can leave earlier.

So in essence, I use EST. Engineering Standard Time. My lateness/earliness is based on maximizing my utility, and minimizing waste.

Yes you heard it. It’s shocking to me as it is to you. It’s still something that I’m surprised that I did. It’s something which had to be done, and I have no regrets at doing it. I guess the stress of everything going on finally got to me.
I went and did the Wedding Registry all by myself. In doing so, they gave me the scanner gun to do it. Dangerous I know. Giving a guy the sole power to do it. It’s something that we’ve put off for awhile…but had to be done. Both she and I have been too busy to go and do it, but Alas I went and did it.

I’m walking around Bed Bath and Beyond and get all kinds of weird looks. The lady who is in charge of this says that I’m the only guy who she’s ever seen come and do this on his own. She slips me a coupon for 10% off future purchases for being this brave. Also she stops in to help me make sure it’s all their. (It wasn’t, I didn’t order enough towels.)

Target isn’t as bad. So many people their that I just blindly fit into the crowd.

Bed Bath and Beyond is definetly more friendly.

Check it out at both sites, and let me know how I did. You’ll see some definite “guy” stuff on their.

http://www.bedbathandbeyond.com

http://www.target.com

My last name is Osman, and the wedding is in Illinois. It’s the only one listed.

Engagement rings.

In choosing a ring their are a myraid of different options. Different cuts, color, carat, and clarity. Their are different types of metals for the ring also. All of these things affect the way the rock looks, and how much it costs.

I always wondered what the point was, and if it really meant anything else aside from being a piece of shiny jewelry. Does it really mean something, or is it just something created by the jewelry industry to get us to spend some hard earned cash.

That was until she gave me a ring at our engagement party. Now that I’ve had it on for several days, I’ve gotten to get a better idea. It’s something which is from her, which reminds me of her whenever I look at it. It’s a quick “emotion pick me up” during the day. It’s a reminder of how our destinies and our faith’s are bound togather for the remainder of eternity.
Plus it’s kinda kewl to have some bling bling on my finger.

The funny thing about blog hopping is how brave it makes you. How it excites you and it makes you think “hey! i can write like that! I can pics of myself, do crazy self-portraits and I can take pics of my street outside and that shopping mall I goto and that secret snack I eat on my own and I can write like this and I can write like that and I can be brilliance bursting and-”

-and then you remember that posting images worries you and that writing too openly worries you and that being too public worries you and that finally being out of control worries you and you remember that you’re the over-analytical consultant with the bright neon pink tie. And that sometimes worries you too.

And you take lousy photos.

Standing here
The old man said to me
Long before these crowded streets
Here stood my dreaming tree
Below it he would sit
For hours at a time
Now progress takes away
What forever took to find
-DMB

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All joking aside folks, your $33/month can make a hugh difference.

http://irw.org/pdfs/orphan_brochure.pdf

Emotions are such odd and wonderous items. They can range from the greatest feeling in the world, to the saddest most gut wrenching feeling that you’ve ever had. What’s amazing is that certain events can take you from one part of the spectrum all the way to the other part of the spectrum in a matter of mere moments not meant to be meandered by mere mortals.

And this is just one of the amazing gifts given to us by Allah. We might get frustrated at them, or be angry that we have them, and at times feel irate that we can’t get rid of them. All in all though, it’s something which makes life worth living though.

Imagine a life without emotions. Imagine not ever having joy, or happiness, or anger, or sadness. Life would be an empty worthless void which wasn’t worth living in…but we’d be incapable of comprehending this.

It’s Eid, and I’m making my traditional phone calls to say Salaamz to everyone and wish them Eid Mubaraak. Then my cousin asks me an interesting question. What’s it like knowing that this is my Last Eid as a Bachelor.

Last Eid as a Bachelor. And it hits me, that it really is. It’s my last Eid as a Bachelor. It’s the last Eid in which I’ll be spending the day hanging out with the guys, and chilling on Eid. It’s the last Eid in which I’ll be going to some restaurant with 30 other single guys, and celebrating and hanging out until some time in the wee morning. It’s the last Eid in which I’ll be getting up early and picking up all of the international students to take them to the mosque. It’s the last Eid in which I’ll get phone calls from friends at 2am asking when Eid is. It’s the last Eid in which I can get up, get ready and go in under 20 minutes. It’s the last Eid in which my plans for the day are going to be made during the day, and might change upto 5 minutes before an event starts.
I think about this, and realize that it’s about damn time.

I once commented perhaps too briefly on the sin of Times New Roman (read all about it). That crime marked itself repeatedly on me over the years. The pain just wouldn’t go away.
Until now.

Did you know that in Google Talk you can set your font? And that font also applies to incoming messages? Which means I don’t have to read your lousy text in your stupid neon purple font no more?

I chat joyously now. It’s a pleasure once again. Ah, to type and see beautiful beautiful Trebuchet! Or the slight trembling curve of Tahoma! Let’s not forget the stern broad shoulders of Verdana. VERILY! This is joy.

Now, to convince all those people who I’ve been ignoring for years (it’s not you! just your stupid font!) to chat with me again.