piety with parsley in my falafel

I went to Pyramids today - it was a really long day of class and meetings since 8:30 this morning until 8:10 tonight, interspersed with moving, but most my really important paper due (more on that below). So I went to Pyramids for a quick fix.

Yes, I knew it's Ramadan. But I figured if the restaurant is open that it's not in bad taste for me to eat there. I'm supporting Ramadan indirectly, but supporting the owners who are fasting.

OK, so I just really wanted some falafel. So I'm an infidel.

The owner saw me from the kitchen. He's usually friendly in that sort of friendly to everybody way. But today he came and sat and told me all about the Koran.

"Jesus spoke his first day of life. Does your Bible tell you that? We have it there. He was a prophet, one of the greats. Everybody is born Muslim, but if their parents are Jewish or Christian, they lead them that way. But everybody is born Muslim. Jesus was Muslim."

And so on.

Now, Ahmed if you're reading, don't be embarrassed like you are about the woman in Jordan who yelled at me for drinking a soda during Ramadan. No single Muslim or Arab represents anybody else.

This is what happens when people fast for 30 days, working over a hot stove all day and reading the Koran all night. They get pious, they get devout, and they want to share their enthusiasm. They also get short-tempered and lose their attention span - more car crashes during Ramadan in Turkey than any other time.

And I'm such a bad listener, with no excuse for my short attention span, and I kept thinking, "When will he go away so I can drink that Diet Coke she just dropped off?" I'm not drinking or eating in front of somebody going through Ramadan. Anymore.

But it's so cool that all sort of different people with different kinds of faiths can communicate.

And then the kitchen worker came out after I placed my order, apparently sizing me up before he fried my falafel. And yeah, he could go under my cute boys post.

So, I spent much of the day continuing to retool my memo due today. And now I wish I'd done more, because a 2L told me that last year she got a D on that assignment. A D. And she says that this instructor gives a lot of D's and F's. OH MY GOD. Now I'm pious. This is not my former cushy existence, where an A- was cause for crisis. Oh no, those days are long past.

Well, it's only 15% of my grade, and the next assignment is 40%, so I'll do better on it. I hope. The thing is that I'm not in school with slackers and idiots. Damn it.

My job will actually begin next week, and it will be two evenings a week, no weekends, and longer - so more money overall. My goal had been to use my time better during the days, so this will force me to. I think I can do it - I'll prep on weekends and then about six hours during the week - that's reasonable. My supervisor was very nearly begging me today, which is always a nice position to be in. The pay doesn't suck too bad, and the hours are good, and I think it'll be really easy for me, and it will be some nice extra cash. But really, it's about perspective - my whole life cannot be law school or I will go insane. This is an opportunity for something different. And I'll see how I like it, and if I don't, then I won't do it again.

Before and after him begging me, I realized how I enjoy the people all around me in my Legal Research and Writing class. We are this fluid support group and we make each other laugh. It's the only class with any group work at all, and all of us are in other classes with each other, so it's the one "fun" class. Fun in that root-canal kind of way.

So, I've brought everything over from the other apartment except my maps and plastic bags. I have some unpacking to do tonight, and I've got Marc Anthony salsaing me through it.

Oh, so I have hot water from two of three taps, which is a big step forward. AND, I was able to rush back here quick enough to turn the power back off before Entergy got here. He pulled up as I was walking away to class, and that was cool. Including seeing that two of the fuses are totally blown in the box.

"Robin, it's me again. Um, this electricity - was it the same contractor? Did they just rewire the whole house? Um, there are some problems. Want to hear them now or later?"

When I asked her if she wanted the check I gave her before to be a deposit or rent for October, she said, "I don't know your financial situation. Do whatever is best for you and let me know." That's the kind of thing that I would expect of a Jordanian, that sort of helpfulness and devoutness manifested in love of humans. So, there's my Arab stereotype of the day, and I'll let it stand.