Story, again!

Oh, and about the title! I remembere the story now; well. somewhat!
Once upon a time, there was a man who married a woman named "Kojaberinam" (Literally: where should I defecate?!). One day, the couple went to a mosque. As custom dictates, they took their shoes off and went in. He went trhough the men's entrance, and she the women's. When he came out, he couldn't find her. Now, this part of the story I don't clearly remember. Either him, or a very bad man, had defecated in everyone's shoes at the mosque door while everyone else was inside!!!!! Anyhow, the man came out, and since he couldn't find his wife, he started yelling her name: Kojaberinam?! Kojaberinam?!
People coming out, disgusted with seeing human shit in their shoes, looked at him angrily and said, you have taken a shit everywhere, what's the asking for???
YES. My grandma, god bless her soul, had a talent for telling obscure stories with no clear begining, ending, or a message, for that matter! Her talent was in making them all sound so mezmorising that you just did not want them to end. And, of course, she made a case for using all the prohibited words like shit, fart, butt..all of them.
Maybe one my greatest regrets in life is not having recorded her voice when she told me stories. Or when she tilted her head and said "salaam" in that way that is only hers.

Being a foreigner

This is what's on my mind lately. To not belong, and to choose not to belong. I mean, I feel torn on daily basis. I have chosen to leave my home, my family, my friends; all of this, I have chosen to bring upon myself. I was thinking today about those who never have to face this decision. Does this entirely change one's perspective on life? Would I ever be able to understand how it feels to think you can grow old at "home"? Would they ever know the struggles I face knowing that living a "comfortable" life costs parts of my happiness??
I drive during the day, daydreaming in another land. And you know what's amazing about it? I even have pre-packaged daydreams! Like I say let's see the day when I go home and so and so is there. I see each and every smile and re-play each encounter millions of times. This is when I can't come up with a new story; when I just want the sweet, deceiving feeling of belonging and being loved.
Oh, and another thing... I have become obsessed with communicating with others. I worry about lost subtleties, the subtle movement of the eye that may mean something different to another person;something I would never know; like that "noch" sound I make when I mean no.
I'm full of poems. ambiguous poems.
Do I even make sense?