Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Schizophernia among other things

1. Knowing you have to do something, not doing it almost intentionally, and then worrying constantly about it. This, I think runs in my family. At least, Kaveh and I both have it. I even see it in paying bills. I leave them sometimes, and then I feel bad about having left them. As my "bad feeling" keeps getting worse, I am less and less able to deal with them (i.e. pay them). Instead I imagine them away...but there is this anxiety that is always in your heart about things being overdue, apartment being dirty, running out of clothes because you have not done laundry. The drama of it appeals somehow! Am I crazy?

2. Am I truly non judgmental, or does the fear of confrontation run so deep, I'll simply allow ANYTHING in my presence?

3. Had a horrible nightmare last night. People were trying to kill me and were following me everywhere. At some point, I went to my mom and dad's bed and asked them to let me sleep next to them. The fear wouldn't go away. I went back to my room, and people came and put a knife in my body 3 places. I was speechless and frightened. Woke up and found myself in my apartment in downtown SF. Can't begin to explain the relief I felt in the minute after this realization and before realizing my real location, geographically and emotionally.

4. I'm reading a book about Schizophrenia. Sad, but also very fascinating. Somehow, this topic has always been of great interest to me. It's informative and fun to read this short, blue-green, book. It's amazing how some of their concerns are just extremely magnified versions of psychological struggles of us seemingly normals!
Here are some lines from it:

From a patient: I am more and more loosing contact with my environment and myself... I cannot picture anything more frightful than for a well-endowed cultivated human being to live through his own gradual deterioration fully aware of it all the time. But that's what is happening to me.

About a patient: This man seemed to go about his day to day affairs in the ward reasonably happily, dressed normally, and could conduct a conversation on everyday matters reasonably appropriately. Nonetheless, he expressed the belief that there was a fish on his shoulder all the time. He'd say "How could a cream possibly help with a fish? It's a fish. it's the place, not PLACE but the PLAICE on my shoulder. It's there all the time"
How the play on words between place and plaice came into all of this, we could not determine.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

And Again...

Goftam ke nush e la'lat, maa raa be aarezu kosht
Gofta to bandegi kon, ku bandeh parvar aayad...

Saturday, July 28, 2007

Hafez

Shaah neshin e cheshm e man, tekyeh gah e khiaal e tost....

Thursday, July 26, 2007

Slow...

The book was great. The Passion.
As I was reading the very last pages, I felt anxious and sad(!) over "coming to the end"! I felt like the tone of the book started slowing down.
I was in Caltrain. It was a familiar feeling. As I looked out the window, I remembered that it EXACTLY felt the same as when I was on a boat on the Caspian sea coming back from "Ashooradeh", a port(or an island) on the Caspian.
We went there for good fish, and for showing our little town to outsiders. We rented a boat to get to the island. It was gorgeous, windy, and usually cold; there was always a subtle fear of falling into the dark blue water; and that proud look of the boatman calling himself "Naakhoda Ali" or something to that effect.It was fun and scary getting on and off the boat. It moved constantly. I always proudly demonstrated my talent in getting in and out of the boat. It felt good to be from the hood!
Anyhow, when we came back from the restaurant, we were a fun boat ride away from our car.
And when we got close to the shore, "Nakhoda Ali" would turn off the engine. The boat would slow down and move to the rhythm of the sea.
slowly, we got closer to the end. Everything slowed down; you had time to enjoy (noshkhar) the last minutes. Calm, and somewhat sad.
I loved those short lunch trips, and Nakhoda Ali, and the way you got to hug everyone because you were scared.

Did I mention, people no longer live in "Ashooradeh". It went under the sea.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Now and then

Khaamosh maneshin khodaa raa,
Pish azaanke dar ashk gharghe shavam
Az eshgh
Chizi begooy....

....
Aay eshgh, aay eshgh, chehreye aabiat peydaa nist...

Monday, July 23, 2007

Stream of Incoherent Complains...

I'm scared these days; of so many things; of loneliness, sickness (thanks to sicko!), uncertain future, useless life, of not being able to go home.
I push the fear away, sweep it under the rug. But I know it's there. It comes back in my dreams. It haunts me as an underlying anxiety running through my days.
There is some anticipation, but not enough... not enough.
No complains. My life is good. It really is.
But something is missing. I'm full of "rekhvat". I need an electric shock of some sort to take this "Bakhtak" away from me.

It's called being lazy...that's what it is. I have to change many things about myself and my life style, but I'm too lazy to do it. To start with, I have to exercise. I have to think about where I want to be in life in a year or two. I have to face my personality problems and try to fix them. I have to look at what's not right and change it.
Instead, like an addicted person, I continue my routine. I'm terribly addicted to my routine; (i guess that's what a routine is, isn't it?!)
At least I'm not passive about it!
I actively indulge. I indulge in reading books, thinking impossible thoughts, remembering old loves, imagining new ones. It's always the case that I have to force myself out of my comfort zone!
that's just ironic. we create comfort zones because they are comfortable; because we love them. I have a love-hate relationship with my comfort zone.
What scares me about this is that I feel my mind is also becoming lazy. I don't learn as much and don't challenge my brain as much. It's sitting still. I feel like I burnt out too soon in terms of learning.
Will I ever become a good cook? a good hostess?
Would I ever trust my level of happiness enough not to get thrown away by a day or two of mood swings?
If I submit, will the world give me a day or two per year to stay a carefree child with her feet in the "shofazh" reading a book and eating vanilla ice cream?

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Vahshi: On love and politics...

doostaan sharh e parishaanie man goosh konid
Daastaan e gham e penhaanie man goosh konid
Ghesseye bisar o saamaanie man goosh konid
Goftogooye man o heyraanie man goosh konid

Sharh e in aatash e jaansooz nagoftan taa key?
Sookhtam sookhtam in raaz nahoftan taa key?

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Imagery

I have never been good at painting. That is not a big deal by itself. The issue is that I have images in my head that are very difficult to communicate in any other way but painting. My dear friend, Sara, is a great painter. She tried to teach me, but I was just bad at it. I asked her if I could explain my thoughts to her so she could paint them...never really happened. I want to try and paint with words; It's hard.
An image came to me twice this past week. Once, when I was listening to Leonard Cohen's "Waiting for a Miracle", and another time when reading a poem by Hafiz.

the thought before the image was something like this:
I heard this song (read this poem) when I was 16,17 (in Iran) and related to it just as strongly as I do now; but in a different way. I have become a different person, but somehow have kept some of the elements that defined "me" back then. I vividly remember how I'd turn my head and sing along with this same song; how the words of this same poem touched my heart so deeply.

Now, the image:
It's a bright picture. It's as if my personality is a peechak(Ivy), twisting and turning around this pillar that is my "essence". It twists and turns and in the process relates in all different ways possible to the poetry of Hafiz; to the music of Leonard Cohen.

Maybe that is what life is all about; to twist and turn and be amazed by all the many ways you can relate to your favorite poem.



Moshkel e eshgh na dar hoseleye daanesh e maast
halle in nokte bedin fekr e khataa natvaan kard
be joz abrooye to mehraab e del e haafez nist
taa'at e gheyre to dar mazhab e maa natvaan kard

Friday, July 13, 2007

Quote: The passion

You play, you win, you play, you loose. You play. It's the playing that's irresistible. Dicing from one year to the next with the things you love, what you risk reveals what you value.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Madness

Dar kherman e sad zaahed e aaghel zanad aatash
In daagh ke maa bar del e divaaneh nahaadim

"The Passion" by Jeanette Winetrson.

I. Most people thought King and Queen were right though King and Queen had no care for us except as revenue and scenery. For the most part, my friends in the village could not speak of their unease, but I saw it in their shoulders as they rounded up the cattle, saw it in their faces as they listened to the priest in the church. We were always helpless, whoever was in power.

II. He was in love with himself and France joined in. It was a romance. Perhaps all romance is like that; not a contract between equal parties but an explosion of dreams and desires that can find no outlet in everyday life. Only a drama will do and while the fireworks last, the sky is a different color.

III. When she died, suddenly, at noon, the light went out of his voice...he could hardly harvest the land let alone bring up six children. She had made him possible. In that sense, she was his god. Like God, she was neglected.

IV. He was great. Greatness like his, is hard to be sensible about.

and I've JUST started reading this. This book touches deeply.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

On my mind

1. I am angry.
I was worried I had forgotten how to be and act angry. It's still very painful for me to be upset at people; don't like it at all. However, recently, I find myself screaming when I read the news, blogs and when I think about what is happening around me. I can't seem to decide if it's becoming worse by the day or I'm just becoming aware of it now. What is happening is horrible, upsetting, painful and UNFAIR. I LOATH those who knowingly do wrong when what they do affects so many people's lives. Their personal lives, their basic rights to happiness. (gooeyaa baavar nemidaarand rooz e daavari...)
And I raise my hat to those who speak their minds when it can cost them much more than I can even fathom.

2. Rocio thought my Persian accent when speaking English was minimal. She didn't think it was good though. To her, it signaled some sort of lack of character. Her thick, cute, Argentinean accent made her who she was. She would say "could" instead of "would", and mixed her b's and v's. She wanted to be that way. She has a rough personality. Most people don't like her. She speaks her mind and is rude a lot of times, but she has a kind heart. She has a warm, rich personality if she likes you. She is a bit condescending when it comes to accepting people's intelligence levels. She is prejudiced and a big time nationalist, and somewhat of a racist; and she's proud of it. She has a lot of what in Persian we call "Daafe'e". (something that would push people away).
she thought I didn't. She thought I was "too nice". I felt bad about my English and my niceness around her. Maybe she just didn't know a better word, and that's why she used "nice". To this day, I feel like I want to defend my personality when I think of her. I want to tell her she doesn't know the nuances of my personality. I don't like the word "nice". that's it.

Vafaa konim o malamat keshim o khosh baashim,
ke dar tarighat e maa kaafarist ranjidan.
...

Na har ke chehreh barafrookht delbari daanad
Na har ke aayneh saazad sekandari daanad
Na har ke tarf e kolah kaj nahaad o tond neshast
Kolaah daari o aayeen e sarvari daanad
Hezaar nokteye barik tar ze moo injaast
na har ke sar betaraashad ghalandari daanad
Vafaa o ahd nekoo baashad ar biaamoozi
Vagarna har ke to bini setamgari daanad

Monday, July 9, 2007

The perfectionist

To remember, is fascinating.
You can remember events, thoughts, feelings, looks, smells..so many things.
Sometimes, I remember something and am able to relive it. Relive the feelings I mean. Other times, I get so anxious to do just that, and so worried I may not be able to, that I loose the entire memory all together.
Today, on Caltrain I remembered something. It doesn't belong to any one category (smell, feeling, event)..but it includes them all. Imagine:
In their navy "Mantou" and white "Maghna'e", girls play in their school yard. It's time to start a game. Two people start forming two different teams, and then they pick their teammates.
The feeling I'm talking about is that of knowing, so certainly, that EVERYONE wants you on their team. You haven't worked for it, it just IS that way. Undeserved, maybe, but very enjoyable nevertheless. You are always the "Captain" of your team without anyone really knowing what being a captain entails. It's just good.
That, we all knew.
I had never thought about how it felt to be the "other".To not be wanted on any team, or even to not be the person EVERYONE wanted on their team.
The unfair thing was that we were all aware of this , often unspoken, ranking, and it somehow applied to so many other aspects of our student lives. I sometimes thought some of those people, hopefully, were not aware of all this, or even better, couldn't care less..but is that true? If not, how did they submit to a life of "less than ideal" ranking? Had they believed it to be an " unchangable reality"? or was it really that they didn't care?
This concept of unspoken, yet universally known, ranking is everywhere. It was in the International House with which country you were from. (Pakistan, not so cool, Spain oh very cool, we all agreed)
And this repeats itself in so many forms and situations throughout our lives.

When I am forced to accept "defeat" of this sort, and I have been forced quite a number of times after leaving Iran, I only begin to realize how those girls in Navy outfits must have felt when they were chosen the last or when they caused their team to loose yet another time. It's tough. It's painful.
But I, then, close my eyes and remember that I have a little girl with a Navy "mantou" in my heart that KNOWS she's the captain...

Friday, July 6, 2007

Jonoon, again

Aamadeam ke taa be khod, goosh keshaan keshaanamat
bi del o bi khodat konam, dar del o jaan neshaanamat....

Thursday, July 5, 2007

Leyla ro bordan...

Korush Yaghmayee in my ears, I read on about politics of Iranian Diaspora...
And all of a sudden, a "heavy" feeling is all over me.I imagine my dad sitting in our living room, glued to TV, waiting for his destiny to be decided by forces outside of his reach. Ah, that frustration. From inside and outside, no one cares. Even if they do, it's just too complicated to do anything...
Frustration is not "tailored" enough to communicate what I feel.
It breaks my heart that my dad still dreams of better days. He's still hopeful; and these goddamn "abarghodrats" never think about the man in Gorgan. No one does.
What they do, though, may take away the chance for me to stand on his feet and force him to talk to me.

"vaghtee baa man mimooni, tanhaayeemo baad mibare
do ta cheshmaam baaroon e shaboone karde........."

he likes this song. That simple.

On a good day...

1. Am I getting old?! The harmless thought of spending a night away from my home, and the city, makes me feel uncomfortable. I keep thinking to myself, what do you have to do at home? I can't pinpoint it. It's just that good feeling...I had mentioned before that I'm in love with the city. I guess it is love, and I can't stand "hejr".

2. sometimes when I read a book or watch a movie, I get too preoccupied with "deciding" if it's good or bad, if it's worth my time or not, etc. There is an imaginary universal court of justice in my head. I subject books, movies, people, actions, beliefs (including my own)to it. It's quite absolutist by nature. I try to mediate it.

3. I want to start doing grocery shopping and cooking. Every time I have tried, really tried, it has turned out well. Maybe if I do that it feels less like I’m waiting for my life to start. Maybe now that I have a job that I like,(and that pays) and am spending my days in a fairly happy way, is the time to believe my life has “started”.

4. It is scary when you talk to a friend, who thinks life means nothing; who reminds you that most of the time you are waiting for “recess bell” to get out. At nights, you wait for bed-time to come… at work for 5 o clock, at restaurants for the bill, and in your personal life, for love. You constantly seek distraction in books, movies, love affairs and New Yorker cartoons. You hurt and get hurt. My logic can’t say much to that. I guess that’s true. But so what? I seem to feel that we are able to enjoy little moments. It’s true; I watch movies and read and eat and fall in love to be distracted, but what’s wrong with that? I hurt and get hurt, but I also love and get loved! Maybe it’s all “heech”, but it can be beautifully so; maybe I’m too much of a child, but I still think of “del o jegar” nights with Amoo Shari, beautiful yellow leaves, good vanilla ice cream, great poems and deep embraces and feel happily alive.

Monday, July 2, 2007

Funny in Gorgani

So there is this lovely lady, let's say my second mom. She is suffering from a really funny "condition". Whenever she hears a sentence (from people, radio, TV, newspaper..anything)she HAS to count the dots used in the sentence! She HAS TO!
Sometimes, she cannot follow a conversation because she's counting, but most of the time, it's not a problem for her; she's a pro. Most words we normal people use, she already knows the number of dots for. She told me last night she is having difficulty sleeping these days because she remembers sentences and has to count the dots all over again. Now, the really funny part is that for some god unknown reason, the number of dots MUST end up being a multiple of 5!!!!!!! If they do not, she has to say a word or two in her head with appropriate number of dots to fix the issue, and the words have to make sense. It's keeping her up. Thank god she already knows to use "khob" when she needs two to go or "na" when she needs just one...
Now you tell me: My family is "colorful", or what?