Quarter Life Crisis, More life, Next life

I prefer frozen blueberries to fresh ones because they last longer and color my oatmeal purple. 

I want to read all the books Italo Calvino has ever written, and I want to annotate them and leave them at thrift stores so people I’ll never meet can know me. I’ve contemplated even leaving my number in the pages, but the books could sit in boxes or high shelves for decades, and by the time someone reads them, something new may have replaced cell phones. 

Why would anyone lie to anyone? Why promise marriage or have families meet when your old ways were not of the past? I’m glad she told me. She said she felt worse because I treated her kindly. 

Why do people run the risk of deceit, knowing that when things inevitably come to light, you’ve both hurt the person and lost their trust? If you can’t restrain yourself from trouble, at least be forthcoming so that when you promise never to do it again, it just might mean something.

I’ve booked my ticket for NYC; I’ll stay with my sister in a place that makes me feel even smaller; I head back the morning of December 31st, NYE; I don’t want to wait to watch the ball drop… to watch lovers kiss, to watch loners watch lovers kiss, to see times square when the sun is up, streets dressed in trash, confetti and cigarette butts. Whose idea was it to drop the ball? What a terrible omen and is December 31st or January 1st to blame for dropping the ball? 

I will not stay to watch the ball drop. I prefer to be on a plane, eating graham crackers in my economy window seat.

I prefer blatant betrayal to subtle disrespect; the former lets me know how to deal with you. Why do people cheat?

When brushing past people on the train or on the street, who apologizes first? Is it the one who brushed against the other harder, or does it default to the one who always says “I’m sorry” because they’ve never learned to occupy space?

When we feel uncomfortable talking to others, we use headphones or make fake phone calls. Are there any other tactics? I ask because I could use more variety. 

Why is white noise so soothing? What does black noise sound like? Why does French toast taste so good, why do parents have to age, why do they have to get ill?

Why is romantic love so commercialized? Why can’t spinsters get a tax break?

Peace and Blessing, Karima O.


The feeling is seated in my heart, but I haven’t placed much of it in my mind, so it is a task to somehow communicate what the feeling is. I have not recently taken the time to rationalize it, it is not a coherent or accessible declaration ready for retrieval during a discussion. Why rationalize clarity rested in the heart if it doesn’t conflict with any fiber or flow?

This isn’t to say that I haven’t asked critical questions, or learned of evidence to give a foundation to this feeling. No, but for some reason, I don’t remember these verifications, the verses that have quenched my inquires, the proofs if you will. I can hardly remember any of them. I only hold on to the mystic flight I feel in faith, but such is a personal experience, and subjectivity is not transferrable or worth substance in a discussion about the validity of religion.

When I was younger, the fuel of my faith was of the mind. I enjoyed debating scripture, questions posed by inquisitive friends at lunchtime would lead me to an extensive search for evidence, my dinner would get cold on those evenings.

Over the years, however, other demands have led me to complacency and comfort, to spiritual numbness. The foundation of faith I’ve critically built earlier in life is not maintained by that same criticality, it now just exists without being expanded upon, or questioned to thereby prompt its growth. I don’t want my spirit and rationalization to be immiscible. I need to return to those inquisitive habits of my younger self to then link the clarity of the heart with that of the mind. The latter is what I now lack.


Peace & Blessings,

Karima O.