I love tea. I don’t drink it but I love the color and the way teabags look after being doused in a cup of boiling water for a few minutes. I kind of went crazy with these though. I opened three boxes of Chay Al-Wizza and obsessively steeped one after another and placed them on a cookie sheet. I love the organic feel of the bags and the aroma took me back to my grandparent’s old home when my grandpa used to cool down the tea for us by pouring it into a saucer and twirling it around a little.
A few hours ago I wrote in my most desperate of diaries. The one I go to when I’ve lost all hope in people and resort to my imaginary confidant. This book is my new holder of letters to a man I have become terrified of going to. Because I know that writing to him means that I’ve reached rock bottom. This is Thomas.
I often tell people I’m ambidextrous. It’s been years now since my mom offhandedly (pardon the pun) said that either my brother, Tareq, or I were left-handed as a child*. I’ve always had this theory that most artists are left-handed, so I really wanted it to have been me. I do certain things with my left hand, kick with my left foot-whenever I feel the urge to kick that is. It had to have been me. Anyway, a few years back I wanted to use both my left and right hand at the same time to draw a picture. The strangest-and most natural-thing happened: my left hand was mirroring my right. I didn’t even have to think about it. The drawing above is such an example. I’m probably not the first or last to do this, but to me, it was a wonderful discovery. It made me feel special (and kind of like a mini superhero) for about a month.
*In Islam, the right hand is preferred to the left. You MUST eat with your right hand because you’re dining with the Devil himself if you use your left one.