Monday, April 30, 2007

umm

The urge to write is there..I just don't seem to have organized thoughts or emotions. I've let them out to play; you know how that feels? when you let your thoughts and emotions play as children in parks? well, even freer than that. they get to go anywhere they like. No red lines; none, whatsoever. Think all they like, love all they can...FREE. When they come back, I know more about them. I manage them and will fit them where they belong and can function.
Currently, they are out playing. Instead, my heart is filled with poetry. filled.

Daro divar e in sineh hami darrad ze anboohi
ke andar dar nemigonjad, pas az divaar miaayad...

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Fascinating..

is the moment when you wake up. It probably is less than a minute, when reality comes back to you in "pieces". It's like an unstoppable train, going fast and careless:
First, you locate yourself geographically: oh, I'm in my bed, my apartment, America.. Then comes emotional location: oh, that was last night, oh I am this person who feels such and such for this person and that person, and oh, I'm alone (or not)..oh, existential crisis? another day you want to end?
Then, you come to your senses: no no, skip those thoughts..oh..farid is dead. whatever, forget that, run to get the news with a bowl of cereal. surrender to the beauty of routine. Have to do work, good, I'm useful; and even novelties..I have this amazing cd I can listen to (now radio or cd? have to choose), oh, exciting!
I'm happy. this is today.
All this, in such little time...fascinating.

Nature

There is a battle between a great white shark and a little dolphin. The white shark is much more powerful and strong and is faster when it goes a straight line, but it cannot turn as quickly as the dolphin can. It's all about power vs. agility.

It IS ALL about power vs. agility....

Poem of the day:
Dar khaaneh jahad, mohlat nadahad...oo bas nakonad, pas man che konam?..
Man chang e toam zakhme bezani, zakhme nazani.....

Monday, April 23, 2007

Ramblings..

I do carry a piece of paper with me to take notes of the thoughts that attack me in the middle of my days, at work, or when I'm trying to concentrate on something..I have a number of thoughts, but right now, I'm a bit off balance so I don't want to follow those thoughts. I want to give in to ramblings and let my thoughts flow..this may help me move on. After all, a sudden death of a part of my childhood has just shocked me. Shocked, is the word. During the day, the thought of him comes to my mind, and as if to torture myself I repeat to myself Farid is dead. dead. dead. Still, it carries no meaning. Whatever, I don't need to face it now, do I? I can let it sink in the way maman gorgani's did.
One thought I have these days is about the concept of "satisfaction" although in somewhat of a particular context. Am I satisfied with where I am or who I want to be? When the answer is negative, it's , at times, mainly because what I have aspired to be is not quite known.
For example, I want to be strong; but what does that mean anyway? A couple of days ago, in the middle of the day, as I was working at the radio, it "came" to me. I was happy; I was glad to be where I was, to be doing what I was doing, and for a fraction of a minute, I felt that lovely feeling of being complete. I felt like I did not need anyone to be happy. just this job, and my mental activities were enough.I thought to myself, only if I could freeze this moment...
Interestingly enough, now I think that may have been the problem itself. Why is it that the idea of strength is defined when you don't need anyone, only your job? Then I thought, to me, it may be because I have a workaholic dad! In my mind, he was strong, and he appeared to not need anyone in particular. How vivid are in my mind the days I had to fight with the news paper over his attention or to tip toe my way into "zir zameen" where he wrote under a picture of Maxim Gorky, wrapped in the smell of his coffee and cigarettes and that black khodnevis...
I, then, came to think men are mostly like that, and I , oh so hopelessly, desired to be one of them. Strong, independent, careless!!
Now how do you convince your HEART (and not mind) that strength is not just one thing. it's not continuous either. You can be strong today and not so very strong another day; that loving another person does not make you less strong..
how does the heart actually come to realize "strong" doesn't mean shit??
And most importantly, in my case, how do you make peace with the split parts of your personality..when one wants to be harshly alone and independent and the other one whispers:
Yek rooz be sheydayee dar zolf e to avizam....

Saturday, April 21, 2007

This one, in Farsi

Sar e aan nadarad emshab ke baraayad aaftaabi
Che khiaalhaa gozar kard o gozar nakard khaabi...

Baaz in che shooresh ast ke dar khalgh e aalam ast?

Thursday, April 19, 2007

Environmentalism 101

Something interesting has happened to me since I started writing my thoughts. As if they were imprisoned in a clogged pipe, my thoughts, slide into my head and want to burst out! I write one, and the other one in the line is waiting to be written..And I can't think it's only because I have suddenly transformed into this creative person..because they come to me in the "Weblog" format!! just to be written here. Sometimes I find myself forming sentences in my mind..and then I stop, thinking it would be cheating..it just has to flow. that is how I write.

OK, so this is the first thought in the line. You know, not that I'm proud of this, but I'm no environmentalist, really; it maybe because I lived in a place where worrying about energy conservation, ironically, seemed too removed from reality. I mean, people are unemployed, you don't have money, and you are bombarded with religious propaganda..who has time for the environment? Think about the martyrs! forget the environment! and anyhow, each person has their taste and their priorities..and mine was not the environment. This is not to say I was not concious; just not passionate. Finally, I put it all off by philosophising..when I'm dead, I won't be here to "feel" anything. What do I care even if the world comes to an end? I'd be dead anyway...
One night, this last time I was home, I was talking to my dad over dinner. He's not an environmentalist either, but he was put off by what he thought was my exaggerated "self centrism". He claimed to be worried about me. What kind of an egocentric life would I lead? What about others in the world? Then, he asked me: If I told you that because you don't do something (or do something) a very big stone will fall from heavens on Kaveh's head (admittedly, quite a comic thought!) would you still continue with it? Let's say it falls once you're dead!!(god forbid)
I was speechless. Well. Of course I would not; not even if the stone were to fall on Kaveh's kids' heads!!!! in a matter of a minute, I got it!! I'm going to put environmentalism in this very "primitive" framework of mine. Stone on Kaveh's head: bad.
I'm hereby, an avid environmentalist. I recycle, I care..I may even become passionate someday!!! (But I still didn't like the Al Gore movie..it was too much lecture, too little art for my taste)

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

Thought

I watched that PBS documentary about Iranians going to Karbala a while ago. It made me cry, mostly because I had to face what I had gone through as a child..By that, I don't mean the sound of "red siren" or anything..I mean the mentality that we all had to submit to. The absurdity of it all...
I remember once they asked us at school what we had for dinner, and Sahar and I went into an elaborate story of how our mother's prepare "hors d'oeuvre" for our father's "Aab e Ananas", (Pineapple Juice) which apparently was our family's nickname for Vodka!!! That caused some problems, but then it was a small town, and everyone knew our family, and it was all fixed quickly.
But that aside, Pooya mentioned something during the film that was very interesting; more so because I had failed to notice it myself. There was footage of revolution and demonstrations.and people were shouting "Death to Shaah". Now why not impeach Shah? or kick him out of the office? No..they wanted him dead. I was thinking, maybe because he had shown to people, somehow, that the only way for him to be out of the office is for him to be dead. But is that really true? OR is this because we are simply intolerant?
When I was watching this film again, with a group of friends, one of them kept saying he wanted to kill the people in the movie. (Of course, it was a figure of speech, but still). Some of them were annoying to me as well, but do we really want them not to exist? My reaction was more of amazement, and I thought of it as a challenge to come to terms with the fact that these people are parts of my country.
...my complex, turmoiled country!

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Reiner

You know who I'd like to be like?? Reiner. Yes, Reiner, the 60 something man in our extended family. He may very well be the most "positive" person I have met. When you ask how he is, he says "GREAT" in such a genuine tone, you really wonder what makes him this happy. (OK, and yes, he looks cute and cuddly too, and seems to be kind as well)
..and I can't accept that he's not smart enough to have thought about existential questions. I'm sure he has. He's just managed to stay balanced. I don't think he will ever know this (let's hope he won't!!), but he really is an example I'd like to follow. A man with a big, honest smile, and yes, some German accent to top it off...

Once this pain, this damn real pain, goes away, I aspire to be like Reiner. I think I will, because some where deep in me, there is this sensation that, as if from underneath a bunch of comforters(!!), peaks its head out and sings:

Falak raa saghf beshkaafim o tarhi no dar andaazim...

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Mundane

Rough day at work..but maybe a milestone in becoming a stronger character!!!
On my way home, as I was adjusting to being back on the bus line 27 with the same old crowd, a concept formed in my mind..by way of articulation!!
So, I think there is something called being judgmental and another thing, being "placemental". I think I'm much more of the latter. By that I mean I put people in some predefined, or quickly assembled, category when I meet them. my "placement" of them, then, gets updated graciously and continuously...I don't think I really judge them. being a placemental is nothing to be proud of, but it sure is better than being judgmental, I think .(let's not think about this judgement!!)...now, maybe my fear is for others to "place" me, and, then, somehow forget to update their placement!

Oh, and there was this little cute kid, maybe 2 years old, on the bus in the morning. We met and quickly became friends; and then, there it was...that strong blue Polo odor that brings out lots of memories, new and old...
My little friend was wearing it, ice cream in hands, and generous with his smile...

One Beyt, or more

Maman gorgani liked this line a great deal, and recited it very beautifully:
"Gofte budam cho biayee, gham e del ba to begooyam
Che begooyam ke gham az del beravad chon to biayee"
"I had planned to talk about my sorrows with you when you come..but what can I do? sorrow leaves my heart once you arrive..."

I was like that with her. The funny thing is, I'm like that with her memory too. The thought of her puts a smile on my face!
lucky me...
and this is to her memory: To kamaan gerefte o dar kamin...

or no, even better, the sexy cheesy poem she learned when she was about 80!:

"Shenide am ke dahi boose o setaani jan
Bia, bede, besetan, khatm kon moamele ra"...
"I have heard that you give kisses and take lives.. come, give, take, and do away with the deal!!!"

Come, give, take...

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Missing..

The unassuming hand around the waist; the subtle glance from across the room at a night party....
I miss them.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Good Nostalgia..

I have this strange feeling that my life is going to start at some point in the future, and I am rehearsing it for the time being. My sense of perfectionism, then, makes me want to take as long as I can to "enter" the life so when I do, it would be flawless.
The scary moments when I realize "this is it"..I look away and recite a beautiful poem in my head and think about people I love; or my childhood.

Today, I was remembering the long hours of "Mosha'ere" in my family. Moshaere is a game where one person recites a poem, and the next person has to "give" a poem that starts with the letter the previous poem ended with. Maman gorgani always won. She had a trick. She memorized poems based on the letters they started with. She knew many poems that started with the letter "d", because somehow, that was the most commonly used letter at the end of poems we all knew!! A statistician at heart, she was.

The interesting thing about my situation is, the child within me is still that happy, clown like kid that I become whenever I go home. I dance like crazy people and speak in an accent that I have created (and ALL my aunts and uncles follow!). I'm loud, proactive, comfortable and FILLED with love. Even the moments of despair are wrapped in some deeply rooted feeling of warmth. What is it about them that makes me feel this way? Their simple lives? Their "out there" sort of loving?
It feels good to have a place, imaginary or not, that you think you can go to and it will always be there. with green trees, pretty memories, and a number of people you love so much you can explode.

mmm

Raw emotions...

Monday, April 9, 2007

Yet Another Maman Gorgani Story

Once upon a time, there was a girl who had a problem controlling her farts. She was nicknamed "Khanoom Goozoo" (the farty lady). Her mother was really scared that with this condition, no one would ever want to marry her daughter; but Khanoom goozoo's mother was a smart lady and was not ready to accept defeat and live with the shame of having a "torshideh" (pickled!!)daughter. She came up with an idea to solve her daughter's problem. She made this thing called a "tooppi" and gave it to khanoom goozoo to put in her ass. Somehow, this thing took care of the sound..(don't ask about the smell, none of knows what happened to that). With the help of the "tooppy", Khanoom goozoo managed to survive the "khastegari", and finally got married to a man who worked at the railroad station. At nights, when they went to bed, Khanoom goozoo inserted the tooppiin her bottom and took care of the problem. One night, when it was dark, khanoom goozoo reached to get her tooppi, but accidentally took her busband's whistle and inserted it in her ass!! in the middle of the night, as she farted as usual, certain of the amazing powers of the toopi, the whistle started going off. Her husband thought he was hearing the train and ran to the station to find it empty and quiet..He returned home and fell asleep, only to wake up to another sound of whistle blowing!! This was repeated a number of times until khanoom goozoo suddenly realized what had happened..she quickly removed the whistle and put it back where it really belonged, on her husband's bedside table! The husband came back and said: I don't know what's happening, I keep hearing this noise, but there is nothing in the station..Oh, and what is this?? (pointing at the tooppi). Kahnoom goozoo quickly said, oh I don't know how this got there. It's nothing, just trash...and took it away. She calmed her husband, inserted the tooppi where it belonged, and they both slept well. After that day, she was extra careful not to make any mistakes and they lived happily ever after.
Now, you tell me, wouldn't you just love to have had Maman Gorgani as a grandma?

Saturday, April 7, 2007

critical?

It hurts when someone criticises you for something, and you know they are right. It cuts painfully all the way in. I just had one of those moments this morning. I'm impressed by the person for having observed such a subtle point in my personality. Upon second thought, this may very well be something I have to address very soon..and it may even be very liberating and life changing for me once I do that.
Of the people I love, there are very few that somehow bring bad parts of my personality out. Maybe because they touch parts of my soul that is weak and vulnerable..next to them, I sometimes become vicious. I had noticed that for a while. Today, I had someone tell me just this. How do I go about changing this now? I am full of the will for it..
Maybe, after all, a friend is someone who tells you such a thing knowing it would hurt; just maybe.

Friday, April 6, 2007

subtle

Subtle, like that feeling, or that shooting star of a thought when you explain something to someone, and they say something in reply that assures you they didn't understand you; at least not completely; but then you don't feel like going back and telling them...and who knows? they may even be aware of it themselves. This happens more when you speak in a language other than what you consider yours.
I remember when I had first come here, my cousins would ask me: "what percentage of these English films do you understand?!" It was a measure of some sort for how much I knew English. I remember the days when I said maybe 60%? Today, in the middle of a conversation with a professor, I thought to myself..well, 100%!!!

Tuesday, April 3, 2007

Talkh, maybe?

I'm feeling down; down and confused. I wish I could type in Farsi so I could wrtie this poem by Shamloo that is lingering in my head..
Oh, did I mention I think there is a problem with parking in San Francisco? Everyday, I feel like I'm getting this message from them: don't drive a car if you live here. Fair, I take that. But then I expect a better functioning public transportation system, and I don't think this is too much to ask; oh, and perhaps cheaper too.
I watched "Before Sunset"; recommend it. Somehow, I don't like the first one of the series much, but I'm a fan of this second one. This afternoon, I ASPIRE to go to Borders, order a drink, sit, and read a collection of short stories by Susan Sontag. If I can manage to get of my apartment, that is.
For those who may relate: "Aab e daryaahaa sakht talkh ast aghaa"...