Author: Omar Rasool

I went to Walmart. Not the normal kind, but a Super Center. I drove around the parking lot to scope out potential parking spots. In the back next to palettes of stacked soil bags. Only one other car parked nearby. A red minivan with a metal ladder strapped to the roof. Perfect. I can blend in here. If a red minivan can be here, then so can I. 

I park front facing the palettes so no one can look in. Thankfully the cheap little SUV I bought had the back windows tinted, so I only had the front windows to worry about.

My cell service stopped working the minute I crossed the bridge from Detroit into Ontario. I was in laying in the back of my car now. Nestled In between my luggage, a sleeping bag, and my travel back pack. The bed was comfortable, but i couldn’t stretch my legs. That’s what you get for buying a compact SUV, idiot. I brought my own memory foam mattress from home. I even brought my bed sheets and pillows. Good pillows are hard to come by.

I laid there. Listening to the rain drops hitting my car. It’s a pleasant sound. Rain just falling. It was my lullaby that night. I drove for 10 hours. Only stopped twice for fuel and food.

I was aching. A little sad about the uncertainty of this outing. How does anyone do this, I wondered. 

I’m afraid of being homeless. Yet here I am sleeping in my car in a Walmart parking lot. 

I thought about my family. My mom, whom I love beyond measure. Someone who taught me what unconditional love was, and that I deserved it.  She’s my best friend. The one who I get every ounce of goodness from. I never wanted to go far from her. It was never easy to be. 

My oldest sister, Khatira. Who always amazed me by her willingness to give. She supported me even when she had little to give. She covered for me even when I should’ve been more responsible. I missed her. It’s funny, you have to go far way sometimes to feel close to people. The important ones. 

Writing while laying in the back of my car that night kept me feeling okay. I felt better writing my thoughts, at least I had my notepad to talk to.

“If you make a little progress each day and stick to it, any method works. And if you always quit, nothing works.”

Charles Chu

I remember when I was a kid, I would pickup anything that interested me. I would see another kid on my street playing with his skateboard, so I would do anything to find one. Once I did, I would practice and practice endlessly or at least till the street lights came on. I would find a yo-yo, play with it until my fingers were red from the string cutting off my blood circulation.

But always the interest would fade and I would find some other shiny thing in my hands. I went through a lot of these phases. Looking back now, I would give up and pick something else just when the novelty faded and the real resistance to get better started.

I always gave up.

I never realized it then, but I did. I’m older now, twenty five, and that wonderment has faded a bit. But more importantly my determination has more or less stayed the same since I was a kid.

I recognize this pattern. I can find it at different points in my life. I can find it In high-school. I can find it in college. I can see it cover my experiences with jobs, relationships, friends, and family.

“If you always give up, nothing ever works.”

I found this phrasing tucked away in an article recently. It struck a cord with me. It made me think about why so many of the things I wanted never really worked out. At those times I thought it was just the world against me, but thats what we say when we want comfort more than reality.

Where it was because of boredom or frustration, I give up. But I don’t want to anymore. I feel trapped in a cycle that I’ve created for myself since I was a kid.

You cant find your place, if you never try a place.

No giving up anymore.

It’s all hard. I find myself hoping to stumble on to a place that just clicks into my life. That why I travel. Why I take these risks to leave the quiet, yet mundane comfort of everyday life.

Its like I’m in a restaurant kitchen. I have so many meal order tickets that want my attention.

But every-time I start preparing the ingredients for one dish, I’m distracted by the sound of another ticket printing. So I start making the meal on another ticket. I’ve begun a lot, but really made nothing. All just ingredients sitting chopped on the cutting board. Pots with boiling water. Sauces never poured on top of anything. A kitchen that cooks but doesn’t produce anything.

If you want something to work, work on something.

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Forgive people more than you think you can, you have no idea the struggles people are going through.

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Invest in people, people are important. In the end all you have is the people you made time for and the memories you shared.

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You deserve your love and kindness, don’t hold it from yourself.

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You won’t be happy all the time, find contentment knowing you get to feel everything life has to offer.

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All emotions are valuable to feel. They have something to teach, learn from them.

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You cannot hold until you first let go. You’ll miss a lot holding onto everything. Appreciate people and things when they’re here, let them go when it’s time.

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Everyone’s felt what you feel right now, reach out. You’ll be surprised.

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People are good. People are good.

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Better to believe and be let down than to live as if there was never any magic in the world.

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There is no right way. There’s only your way and his way and her way. Everyone has their own way to go, you’re on your own path.

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Your life is not your own. We aren’t born for ourselves. We’re born with an obligation to serve the common good.

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Your mind likes to wander, it’s naturally curious. It wants to help you. Be kind and give it a problem.

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Things aren’t important.

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Nothing is personal. Not how people treat you, or the things that happened to you. It’s not about you.

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Don’t forget to have fun with your life. Love your life, it’s yours. Every part of it.

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