name changing and engagement rings

This is an old article, but it is intersting.

At some point the author says:

"Interestingly, over the past 10 years fewer and fewer women have kept their maiden names. According to a recent study by Harvard economics professor Claudia Goldin, based on Massachusetts birth records, the number of college-educated women in their 30s keeping their name has dropped from 23 percent in 1990 to 17 percent in 2000.* Goldin suggests that this may be because we are moving toward a more conservative view of marriage. Perhaps. But it may also be that the maiden name is no longer a fraught political issue. These days, no one is shocked when an independent-minded woman takes her husband's name, any more than one is shocked when she announces that she is staying at home with her kids. Today, the decision is one of convenience, of a kind of luxury—which name do you like the sound of? What do you feel like doing? The politics are almost incidental. Our fundamental independence is not so imperiled that we need to keep our names. The statement has, thanks to a more dogmatic generation, been made. Now we dabble in the traditional. We cobble together names. At this point—apologies to Lucy Stone, and her pioneering work in name keeping—our attitude is: Whatever works."

I find this way of thinking very unfortunate. The idea that we are past the point that feminism is only a matter of taste, is not only untrue, but also backwards. Just because we are not obliged to change our last names it doesn't make the matter unimportant. True, if this was the law, it would be a very different matter altogether and we, as women, would have to put effort and energy to change that law.

But principles matters as well. My last name is a part of my identity. I don't dwell on the fact that my last name is my father's (as opposed to my mom's), but I have lived with it for the past 30 years and it is mine now. I find it insulting to change my last name because it's what my spouse wants, or because it is convenient. It would be also convenient if I married a rich man when I was 20 years old and I never worked. It would also be convenient if I lived off of my parents money, or got my rich boyfriends to buy me expensive gifts. But i find all of those an insult to my personality and independence. And I do not choose to do something for the mere fact that's convenient.

The author also mentions "These days, no one is shocked ...when she announces that she is staying at home with her kids. "

When in the history people were shocked at the idea of a stay at home mom? Is this what we are championing for women these days? That the days of fighting for your rights is over, so now you can sit back and relax and roll back to your role as a traditional mother and wife, and never worry about the unequal sex laws.

Good thing that women who do not think that way are plenty.

This was a comment from one reader that I found close to what I think:

"Don't give me the argument that everyone in your family should have one name. In that case, why doesn't the man change it? To the poster who talks about diamond rings -- I agree; it's hypocritical to live off your husband's wealth but pretend to be liberated. In my ideal world, women would not be changing their names, there would be no diamond rings on engagement (or both the man and the woman would wear rings bought for each other), there would be no down-on-one-knee proposals (not even for the sake of traditions), and there would be equal division of labor between the sexes in the home and the workplace. I wish that the progressive, smart, and educated women of our generation would start putting their feet down about these things. "

winter

it's cold again. in the past three or four years, i have become resentful of winter and the cold. i guess because i worked outside for most of the winter and i was never able to keep warm no mater how i dressed. the sinus headaches don't help either. i also cease to work out during winter because i like running and biking, but when it is below 45F, i can not even think of going for a run. so i basically hibernate during the winter.

but today when i was walking down the street along central park, for a minute i started to like winter. it was cold and windy, but the sun was shining. the trees, the beautiful tall trees of the park, had no leaves. they were grayish brown, but they were standing tall. i made me think maybe it's ok to stop growing for a little while. it's not such a bad thing to hibernate and prepare for a fresh start when spring comes.

i though maybe it's ok that i'm not reading as much as i like, and i'm not learning many new things. it's ok that i don't have a job i dream of, and i am still in a funk after my dad's death. it's ok not to be happy go lucky for a little while and let the winter take over. cause i am getting ready for a fresh start and i'm trying to gather some energy in my bones. i'm giving my head and my body a little rest before i take off again.

i think the tall trees of central park made me like the winter much better today.

free at last

M is out of jail. it feels like it's been years. for the past 5 months, every time i thought about him, my eyes would tear up. i imagined the worst, maybe because i have an idea what happens to people in an iranian prison. i imagined him being tormented and humiliated. i imagined countless sleepless nights, bad food and terrible light. i had many nightmares; i was worried. but somehow, in every picture i had in my head, he was always standing tall. he was standing strong, and mocking the interrogators by his calmness, by his piercing looks. i knew that he is in peace, and proud of himself. i can't help but to feel respect and admiration for him. i have always felt that way about him.

if not for people like him, iran would be a lot scarier right now.

grief

i wonder if grief is the same for everyone. i forget about my dad's passing a lot of times. it has been 45 days and it is easier than it was before. but even then, even when i went home for the funeral, i forgot about it every now and then. i would wake up in the morning, thinking about so many other things. and then it would hit me. as if for the first time: he was gone. gone. just like that.

i don't know how i am dealing with this. i am doing ok, i work, i play, i go out, i love people, and i plan for the future. but i feel like there is a hole somewhere. like when you warm up your apartment but you feel a draft that you can't find where it is coming from. i feel like i have lost some of my balance, some of my support, a part of me, a part of my strength, my sanity...

i don't want to think about it. i do all i can not to think about it. i watch all the stupid tv shows, i do not look at the old pictures, i exhaust myself at work... i don't let my mind wander. i hardly want to write about it. but my mind is not being deceived. i have dreams. i have all sorts of dreams about him, all the time. the harder i try not to think about it, the more frequently the dreams occur. there are good dreams and bad dreams. there are sad ones and happy ones. but there are there.

i can't control the dreams. sometimes i don't even want to. they are my connection to a world with him. a world that doesn't exist when i am awake. the world that will never exist. and i miss that future. i miss all of what is not going to ever happen.

i miss my dad.

dream

I had a dream about my dad last night. I was back home, we were just hanging out, but we were hugging each other. My dad’s friend was there too. He said “I don’t know about you living in New York and stuff. I think you should come back and spend some times with him. My dad was just standing there looking at him with those kind affectionate eyes. He had a faint smile; that sad smile of his. He was happy to see me happy and he was sad that I was so far away.

I felt like something dragged me out of his arms and I woke up sobbing. He was so close, he was right there. I could feel him, smell his body.

I guess this is the closest I could get to him ever again.

The thing in my throat hurts. It hurts so bad.

I can't write about it yet. I just can't. I will need a day to write about it. I don't have a day and the strength to do it now.

i do write down bits and pieces when i can, but i can't write about it just yet. as if it becomes more real if i do.

i will write about it soon, one day.

driving. in jersey.

i've always liked driving. driving in cities or on highways, it doesn't matter. I enjoy them all the same. Except when it's too much traffic of course and I am driving a stick. but that doesn't happen often, not in the states at least. this past saturday, though, i had one of the least pleasant driving experiences ever.

i was going to south jersey to hang out on the shore for two days. i went down to new brunswick friday night and had a nice time with my friends from rutgers. the next morning I picked up a nice nissan centra, which I was pleased with it's acceleration and smoothness, in addition to the fact that it was $45/day cheaper than if i had oicked up the are in manhattan . since i have no sense of direction and have forgotten to print out directions or pick up a map, i decided to get a gps to help me navigate. i was going to head down the garden state parkway but the gps was giving me really weird back-road directions. i followed the directions for 10 minutes which led me to all the wrong roads. there was construction going on and the police had closed a couple of streets, so I had to use my memory from where i lived in central jersey to navigate to the highway. it was rainy and dark and foggy too. perfect beach day...

once i was on the highway i decided to look up the google directions on my blackberry and choose the easiest route. bad idea...i decided that he gps system is the shittiest technology i have had to deal with in a long while. and the google directions were even more weird cause it was directing me to I95 which was completely out of my way at that point. the navigation signs in jersey were not helping me a bit.

long story short, it took me 3.5 hours for the route that should have taken me about 2 hours and 20 minutes. and that momentarily ruined my desire for driving. so today, on my way back, I didn't follow the gps, or google directions. i just asked people, and it was awesome. i made it back to new brunswick in less than 2.5 hours and i really enjoyed my ride. i feel a little closer to my dad, who refuses to use technology a lot of times.

an over-thinker's morning thoughts

i get to a point that i'm so mad at him that i just want to ignore him. i think about him vanishing from the picture and that doesn't bother me. i have all these imaginary discussions with him. i want him to be happy, but should i just give up? i mean i love him more than i think i do, but i am also resentful. he makes me feel so helpless that i just want to forget about him.

then again, feeling helpless is even worse that feeling nothing. it's destructive. i mean i can't make him happy, so by making myself unhappy i am just adding one unhappy person to this world. it's stupid. but i can't help it, it's unconscious. i have dreams of talking to him and seeing him happy and lively, and then i have dreams of him being so desperate and pitiful.

i know i think in circle sometimes and i know i always over think. but i really want him to be happy. why can't i make him happy? he is such a smart and good-hearted man. i wish he lived a happy life.

freinds are not forever...

i miss N. it's not like i miss her so much that i want to see her right now...no, i miss her being my friend. we are not unfriendly, but we are not really friends anymore. obviously living in two different countries doesn't help. but that's not all. Sh and I are still good friends even though i didn't see her for 5 years. we are close; we click the second we see each other, we have things to say to each other; we talk about our feelings, things that happened to us, our plans, our insecurities, people around us, the past, the future...we are close, even though we don't really communicate all that much. the last time i saw her, she was still my best friend.



not the same with N; we grew up together, we spent numerous days and nights playing, camping, hanging out...we spent many many hours together, and we did feel close. i am sure at some point we were best friends. but for the past few years we were not. it started right before i moved out of the country, and went on... it was probably my fault, i was being too harsh on her at one point, maybe too judgemental...but i really wanted the best for her. it was my intention to protect her; it was obvious to me that she was making a mistake that will have a big impact on her life. i wanted the best for her, but i didn't know how to convey that.

it is never a good idea to try to tell people that they are making a mistake, or to tell them what they should do; they will never listen and you will never become a hero. at best, you hurt their feelings and they get over it. at worst, they never get over it and you lose a friend.

but i wonder if i should withhold my opinion about something my best friend is doing. should i hide what i think? maybe...but i'm not sure if that's what i want to do. if i was doing something wrong, i would appreciate people telling me so. but there should exist a middle ground. i guess in the end, every one should be able to do what they want to do. and in the end, i should be good enough of a friend to respect their decision. i just wish i was not so self righteous, and they were not so sensitive. i can't afford to lose my friends to my being opiniated...


still, some friends are forever...

somehow it's so hard to be chill these days. i think it has mostly to do with my job than anything else. i am usually a lot happier in summer time, but this summer all i can think about is that i have not much to do at work, and i migth get laid off any minute, and that i have less money than last year with a more expensive apartment.

i should snap out of this self-pity cycle...it's not like i can do much about the job thing. economy is terrible and 10% of people don't have any job, so i guess i should rejoice in just having one, even when it pays less. but somehow, that's not what my brain is fixed on.

and then there are my friends. my close friends have left the city and i feel like i need to have more close friends. and i have no idea how to go about this. sometimes i wish i was more independent, so i would need no one. but that's just not who i am. before, i always had a lot of people to choose from. there have always been more people whom i thought i could be close friends with. but that's just not the case anymore. it might be because i am more judgemental of people...or that people my age are mostly married or occupied otherwise. and then again, i am always going to be a foreigner...i should probably get over it. as long as i am moping, i will be unpleasant.

there are important things happening in this world and in my country specifically. i feel bad that i make a big deal of my little problems. but at the same time, this is a more tangible part of my life...

i hope these days are over soon.

i am getting anxious, and losing hope. i see the videos from iran, posted online and ask myself "is it worth it?"...then again, what is worth more than freedom. isn't freedom what humanity has been seeking in the long history of our being? isn't the power to decide for your life what we all work for? we need to get back our basic rights, we need to teach a lesson to the oppressor. we need to be free...

i feel guilty and sad not being there, not being able to participate. on the other hand, my life has other issues here. every day i show up at work, i am thinking about the next round o lay-offs, about how i don't manage to save money anymore and about the chances that i get laid off without getting my green card. then i think about what people are putting up with in iran and i feel ashamed...it's kind of a vicious cycle.

i miss the fight for freedom. i hope my people could see the result of their courage.

i feel so restless. things are happening and i am far far away from the scene. from the excitement, the hope for a better day; and the rage, violence and the bitter taste of blood. i don't know if i should feel privileged or unfortunate. it is as if i am watching a film, a days-long film, a crazy brutal film, which is powerful and full of hope at the same time. i feel enraged, i feel happy, i feel concerned, i feel hopeful, i feel sad, i feel helpless, and mostly, i feel far far away from everything that is happening. and i wish i was there, in between people i love, fighting for freedom, fighting for better days, fighting in hope of better days, fighting for hope...

my heart is with you my dear iran.

books and flowers

i was doing some uninteresting cadd work and my mind was wondering around when suddenly i had this vivid image in my mind of these dried flowers that we used to keep in between the pages of books. there were tulip and violet and rose leaves. and sometimes we would accidentally open the books and the flowers would fall down, dancing in the air before they lay on the ground...for some reason that memory reminds me of my dad, when he was young, when i was a child and i used to love reading books. the books that he would buy me for my birthdays, for graduations, for any unimportant occasion..and there was always little snack in the gift wraps; a walnut, a piece of chocolate,...

i looked through my books this time when i went back to tehran. we kept all of my children books in a box in a closet. i browse through them, they were such interesting books. made me admire my parents for they had chosen those books with so much care. i can only hope i'd do the same for the next generation.

everyone is talking about the election. it's all over facebook. and i am reading articles online all the time. everyone is excited again. and some people have got carried away. like every other time...

i wish i was in iran somehow. that i could witness this passion. the passion for freedom. the passion for participating and decision making. the passion that might lead us to a better place. somewhere closer to the path to freedom.

let's hope so...

Jacky

we got jacky when he was maybe a month old. maybe younger. a friend of my sister has bought him, and he somehow just left it at our house, and we took care of her. at the beginning with suspicious and then with love. she was extremely cute and that was enough to convince us that she is going to be our dog, even though we really didn't know the responsibilities and difficulties of having a dog. after all, how hard could it be?

and jacky was a part of our family from then on. we loved her, we cherished her, we cried when he got hit by a car and we missed her a lot when we had to take her to our country house because the neighbours complained that he barks too much. she was more than what i ever imagined a dog could be. she was smart and every time one of us was sad or depressed, she somehow acted like she know what's going on...

jacky lived in our country house for the past 6 years. my dad was her main companion and she loved him. they comforted each other, and took care of each other in their own ways. my dad would get really unsettled whenever he would come to the city and leave jacky for more than a couple of days.

in my last trip home, jacky seemed like she us putting on weight. we thought she must have gotten pregnant in one of her adventures in the streets. she didn't have energy to run around and play. she moaned kind of sadly when i first saw her after 5 years. jacky has comforted me a lot of times. when i was emotionally drained and didn't want to talk to anyone, i would just hug her and sit with her tacitly for hours. she was big and fury and the warmth of her body was very comforting.

i had a feeling that it would be the last time i am seeing jacky when i left iran. and so it was. jacky died about a week ago. my mom gave me the news in an email. i didn't sleep all night, thinking about her and that how my dad must be feeling lonely. she died just two days after my 29th birthday.

i miss her. she was a good companion...

the ultimate effect of protecting men from folly is to people the world with fools. - Spencer

election

i didn't vote in the last election when ahmadinejad became the president. i remember people told me i should vote, and i was against voting. mostly because i didn't think any of the candidates are legitimate, but also, i reasoned, the larger number of votes would indicate stronger support for the islamic republic. ahmadinejad was elected and i remember feeling very indifferent about it. i thought there is not a big difference who is the president; the country is not going to change for better, or much worse. it was the end of khatami's term and i was only thinking about how much more could be done with his popularity, and how many things went wrong. but i seemed to have forgotten how the result of that election changed our country for ever. not only because we, people of iran, felt we have a saying in our country's political path, but also, because of all the positive change that followed the election of khatami.

four years later, i am looking back and think there were very few days in the past four years, in which i, an iranian who doesn't even live in the country, did not feel the catastrophic result of this past election. let's remember ahmadinejad denial the holocaust, his interview/speech in columbia university and the united nations, to the nuclear energy controversy and the threats of preemptive attacks, the unbelievable inflation of the past four years, and the increasingly deteriorating freedom of speech in iran.


to vote or not to vote...


i wish i could say: of course i am going to vote, and of course i know who i am voting for. that i believe in the competence, integrity and the judgment of this or that candidate. i wish i could say, my candidate is not going to lie when he campaigns and is going to execute what he promises, and is not going to be afraid to take action when it is needed. i wish i could say my candidate is a diplomat with the tools, knowledge and resources needed to run the country in the center of all different ideologies and for all iranian people.


but i can not say any of these. i can not possibly believe such a candidate could get passed the filters that the islamic republic enforces on the nominees. and i can not say from the existing choices, there is a single candidate that i trust, even in the loosest form...


but i can also say, my candidate, whoever it is going to be, is hopefully going to be a less horrible choice than mahmoud ahmadinejad and is going to run the country less horribly than him. and that might only be wishful thinking, but what else is there for me to do? because when your alternative is the worst, whoever you choose, is going to be better...


and i wish this was not the case.

london

This is an unfinished note I wrote in london:london has a lot to offer: it's vibrant and diverse, it is green, the streets are wide, the architecture is brilliant. but it's also gloomy. you don't see the sun for more than 20 minutes every day. in some ways it's very similar to new york: interesting people, a lot of culture and a lot of shopping. it also reminds me of washington, dc. when you step out of downtown, the houses and the streets and the tranquility of the space is very much like dc. people are very polite and they are not as much in rush as new yorkes, but they don't look as boring as washingtonians. they say "lovely" and "brilliant" a whole lot, and they think americans use "awesome" very inappropriately. i have to say, it was easter weekend though, and i guess holidays make everyone nicer than usual.

night life in soho is much like the west village: ton of people loitering in front of the bars, and there are many many gay bars, and of course every guy who looks good is probably gay. so not much luck for the ladies. i went to a lesbian bar so that i won't feel the lack of attention, but there weren't many lesbians around, and the dj who was interestingly iranian, totally sucked.

i really liked big ben. the most interesting part of that building is the details of the gothic architecture. it feels like there is a lot of energy stored in the carvings of the facade. but i also just liked the huge clock. thames is not that impressive...i find hudson more interesting, less grey and polluted.

we went to suffolk one day to have the best fish and chips in england, as my hosts suggested. the scenery is very interesting; the river, the sky, the meadow and the sheep are almost the same color: a greenish grey...you feel you are senile aof what you might not like but must take...the fish and chips was good, not that I have a high standard of fish and chips cause I,ve never had it before i went to london, but the batter was light and fluffy and the fish moist. i can't give much praise to the fries, or chips, cause they were not that great. i think pommes frites in the east village does a better job.

wagner

i saw a performance of "das rheingold", the first of four operas in wagner's ring cycle. i was really tired and contemplating on going to the opera, but i decided to go eventhough I might fall asleep. i have never listened to the opera before which is not good ever. mind you, the opera is in one act and it is 2.5 hours long. and there is not a lot of beautiful arias and uplifting endings; you only applaude at the end of this 2.5 hours.

the production was absolutely beautiful. the set was magical and the special effects were done amazingly well. i enjoyed the music when i was not napping, and i specifically liked waton, the ruler of the gods' role. but damn, 2.5 hours is a long time when you are not prepared for the kind of music.

so i decided that i'm going to study wagner a little bit. i chose "die walkure", the second and the most popular opera in the ring cycle, about 5.5 hours long including the intermissions. i had a book with commentaries and printed out the libretto and i downloaded the music so i can listen to it on my bus ride to dc. i listened to the first act of the opera, about 1 hour long. but i say it took me about 4 hours to read the text, listen to the music, play back to hear the leitmotives and just get a grip on the music. as i said, the style of singing is so very different from the "bel canto" i usually listen to, but when you actually get to know the music, you eally enjoy it. the story is also very interesting. So I gradually studied all the acts and listened to the music.

i went to a performance of die walkure last night at the metropolitan opera. and now i understand why you need to study the opera before you go. i knew the words well so i did not need to constantly read them on the screen and I could concentrate on the music. and this was totally rewarding. comparing last night's performance with the ones I have heard before and hearing interpretations of the different singers, gave me something to look forward to.

it's good to do some homework sometimes, is the moral lesson of this post!

back at work. work is slow and i don't like it this way. i decided to enjoy my summer though, so i bought a yoga dvd and i'm trying to do some yoga at home. it's fun and it makes me shaky sometimes.

my sponsored kid christopher sent me a letter, which was written by his mom cause he can't write well just yet, about how he is doing and how school is going for him and that he likes to draw and play footbal. maybe i go to guatemala one day soon and visit this kid. i wanted to write him back but my spanish has really diminished over the past year. i need to take classes again.

i'm dreaming about my next vacation already. not that it is anywhere close but it aint hurt to dream. maybe i go to the boundary waters again, i really want to, but i also want to go other places. there are so many places i want to see. i wish i was 21 again...

i'm at heathrow. it's funny how much i don't want to come back. although i love new york and living there, i do not want to come back. not a bit...

oh well....

bazzar

i went to tehran's great bazaar yesterday for the first time. it's weird that i've never been there before. my mom has always wanted to take us there but she always faced with terrible resistance. i used to think the bazaar is a noisy crowded place with useless stuff. it was not like that at all; it was clean and there were a lot of good stuff, and they were cheaper than anywhere else in the town. it was also interesting in almost any way.



i wanted to buy a rug. my relative knew some one there who had a shop, or "hojreh" as they call it in the bazaar. it was the first day after the new year's holidays and at 12pm when we got there they were just opening their shops. a lot of them haven't even bothered to come. i guess because it was right after the craziness of the end of the year when people shop like there is no tomorrow. in every open shop 3 or 4 people were chatting or reading the newspapers. there were too many people doing nothing, or not much.



the rest room was unbearably dirty and stinky even for iran's standards. i got dizzy when i stepped in. i was thinking these people are among the richest people in this country, if every shop in this yard paid a dollar each month, they could have the bathroom squeaky clean. but they don't really care...how could they not though?



i bought a pretty rug. it has a reddish background and there is some blue in the corners. the guy (haji) who sold the rug was really nice and he chatted with us about his kids and living in the states and how many many years ago he has gone on a trip to germany with my grandpa. he said these days people are difficult to travel with; they don't go just anywhere and they need to eat halal meat.



i was having a hard time deciding which rug i like the most and haji told me: if i was going to ask one out of three sisters for marriage, i would be confused as well. that's why you should just take one home and see if you like it. and i liked the sister i borough home.



we spent 7 hours in the bazaar. we also ate a lot of snacks which was just awesome. good times.

i noticed that i've lost all of my jaywalking skills. i can not cross the street like a tehranian! new yorkers think they know how to jaywalk, but they really don't. the most they do is crossing the road when the light is red and there's no car. in tehran though, people cross the street when the cars are coming at them. i mean they are coming at you full speed, like they are actually trying to take you out.

the thing is, pedestrians are vulnerable and that makes them bold. you know the driver is not going to risk it; he is going to slam on the breaks at the last minute. they are not going to hit you because they are scared of the consequences, so you just cross the street being faithful in their fear. and as irrational as it is, it is rational. fear is powerful; it is the reason people do a lot of things. on the other hand, there is always human error, and exceptions. it's improbable but it is still there. and it's not very wise to risk your life when human error is so huge of a factor. but there is really no other way to cross the streets in tehran: you will be waiting forever. there is also that adrenaline rush.

i miss the calm of my own place. i miss being able to sleep whenever i want and not needing to speak with anyone. it's a little overwhelming to be around people all the time. the same way that being alone all the time is overwhelming.

i saw an old friend today. we talked over a nice bottle of wine. about everything and nothing, and listened to maria callas singing lucia. he is one of those people whom i met and felt like i've known for a long time. it's not every day that you meet someone and the conversation just flows.

we painted my old room today. the walls are a kind of cream/orange color; the ceiling is white. the ceiling was the hardest. i painted it with a brush. it's completely different when you use a brush versus a roller. with a brush, you need thin watery paint. and you paint two coats each time in different directions. if the paint is thick, the second coat will remove the first coat. with roller you need the paint thick cause you get a better cover and it goes faster. i still need to do a third coat on the ceiling. that would just make it a lot nicer. and then we are changing the carpets tomorrow. hopefully someone will come by and finish the job by the end of the day. the carpets have not been changed in 25 years. i was only a year old when we moved to this house. all in all that was a successful project. well, if the carpet part goes well.


my dad was telling me that he would never paint the room this way. he was talking about how you should properly do this and that. and that it would probably take him 10 days, or more, and he would do a perfect job. he is right. the last time he painted these rooms was 17 years ago. i remember how long it took and that it came out spotless. but it took another 17 years and my imperfectness to paint these rooms again. i guess sometimes being imperfect at least gets the job done. and by my standards the place looks pretty good. i would have no problem living in that room.

there are things that never change. or five years is just too short to change them. there are people i meet, and i feel like i never left them. the emotions run deep, the feelings are intact...

i like it this way.

dwelling over the past

i remember that the first time we talked about relationships and that one might get involved emotionally and sexually with other people, i totally freaked out. i was not able to sleep for a couple of nights. i even almost left him; to me that was unbearable, i could not imagine such a thing. i was 20 years old and i've always been opinionated. i was not very experienced at all...

it was only less than three years later that it happened...i fell for someone else while i was still in love with him. i've never been so confused in my whole life, not even when i immigrated to another country. i was sexually drawn to the other guy like a maniac and so emotionally attached to him that my life was meaningless without his presence. i couldn't understand how some one can love two people at the same time: a love so different and so similar at the same time. i could not make a decision. i couldn't say no to the sexual experience that was like nothing before; he made me feel alive. before i go see him, my blood would pump faster than ever; the anticipation of being touched would make me run from the cab to his door. he helped me enter the realm of womanhood. and i couldn't say no to a love that was such a big part of my identity. he had helped me become an adult, he had helped me to free myself from the dogmatism that surrounded me. he made me a better me.

and then he showed me how he meant what he said that night...i almost didn't believe it's possible...he thought me to be myself, to be free, and to do what i believe is right. i will always, always love him for that. how can i not?

home

i'm here. it took a while, a long while. it wasn't any over-emotional scene at the airport. i have always imagined that first moment when i see them will be very very intense. it wasn't; it was calm, exciting but nothing too crazy. i guess it is the effect of the years that have passed by. i feel a little old.

i had a serious jet-lag. it took me about three days to adjust to this time difference. and last night i finally slept like normal people. but it's 4:32am again and i am up...

the prices are shockingly expensive. they are almost as much as new york. i paid about 4 bucks for three scoops of ice cream last night, ridiculous...other than that, things are not too different. they are, but in a way, they are exactly the same.

the best part is to be home on the new year's day. i had a blast. it was like old old times. all my parents' friends, all the people i love like family. it was good to be a part of something familiar, something you belong to, something you cherish. i didn't feel like i was missed all that much. i felt like life went on, not too drastically different for anyone. they missed me for a bit, and then it was like i've never been there. surprisingly that doesn't bother me at all. in a way i feel good about it. i admire this strength in people to adjust to new things. i did the same thing, and it made me a lot happier compared to when i used to cling to my old memories.

we went to a party last night. i remembered the kind of fun we used to have. the stupid little jokes, conversations and flirting. it is strange how unfamiliar it all was, and how familiar at the same time. i had a really good time. i feel very good. although i don't think i want to come back and live here, i feel like i belong to this place and i like this place. and i like where i live now as well. if that makes sense.

uncle M

Uncle M has passed away. I found out from my second cousin's status on facebook last night. Dad had called me earlier that day, I saw the missed call but he didn't leave a message. I was in a ferry to ikea in brooklyn and I was listening to bach cello concerto #3 and looking at the sunset in the river. I was thinking cello has a very earthly sounds and I was not in the mood to talk on the phone.

Uncle M was only 52. I remember him as the chubby-ish bald guy who was smiling most of the time. He was hyper in a sense, always noticable in the crowd. He had this beautiful cabin in kordan where we always hanged out with our friends. The last couple years before I move out of the country he was a bit manic depressed, and that apparantly was the case for the past few years on and off. But I don't really remember him that way. I stil picture him with his wool hat and glasses, smiling and making kabob for everyone. He was a very smart kind-hearted man.I'm pretty sure he was a very good doctor as well. And I liked that he was sometimes too straight forward, to the point that some people thought he is mean. But I value honesty.

Uncle M's birthday was the same day as mine. I used to call him every year when I lived in tehran. Most years he didn't remember his own birthday. I called him once from here; the last time we ever spoke. We will never meet again...that makes me really sad especially since I'm going home in two weeks after 5 years, and I was looking forward to seeing him.

it's weird to think about home. there are all these familiar things that i know and i'm craving for. and there are all the familiar things that i am not looking forward to. and then there are familiar people who might be very unfamiliar now. five years is a while; they might have changed a lot, or i might have changed a lot...i know i have changed a lot, but in my core, deep down, am i not the same person? or that doesn't even matter?

P is excited for going back home too. she is also nervous. she hasn't been back for about 2.5 years. she has weird dreams every couple of nights and is losing sleep. i guess i feel the same way. maybe not as much but that's probably because i have lived with this for a longer time than she has. and maybe because i have a stable life to get back to, and she is going to be gradualting and she doesn't have a job yet.

it's economic crisis. i should be worried about my job, especially because my immigration status depends on my job. but i am not worried about it, after all, what can i do really?

gradually, i'm learning to take life as it comes. sometimes this means giving up, being soft, not fighting for the ideal. but sometimes, it is the right move. the move that keeps you insane and calm. i am seeking calm, i am always seeking calm. but usually in my life, the calm only comes after the storm...

"ta'rof"

in iran if you see some one is wearing something nice and you want to comment on it, you say:

-nice dress
-that shirt looks good on you
-you look nice in those pants, or
-your bag is pretty

but you never say "i like your sweater". i guess because in the "ta'rofi" culture of iran, if you say "i like..." you would make the person feel slightly uncomfortable, almost feeling obligated to give what they are wearing to you. i know it doesn't make much sense and if you actually said "i like your bag" they would probably loosely offer it to you it and you would politely refuse. but the whole idea that you might feel even slightly obligated to give the next person what they like on you, is kind of ridiculous even to me.

on the other hand, if i am eating something while i'm sitting with other people, and i don't offer to them to have a piece of that, i feel rude. these two things are in nature similar. your possession (food, clothes or etc.) is essentially yours and you are the only one who has the right to use it, because you probably earned it. in american culture, you see plenty times that people eat and don't offer you to share with them, some times even if you are their guest and staying at their place...

i appreciate the hospitality of the iranian culture. i appreciate it that when you have a guest you make them feel very much at home. you give them the best place at the table or to sleep and you share with them your best food, drinks and even clothes. this might sound excessive but i understand it. i feel like i want my guests to have the best of what i got. i like them to feel like i really am happy about them being there with me, at my home. unless of course they over-stay their welcome or are too demanding...

there are so many things i love about the individualistic american culture. and there are so many things i love about the more socially minded iranian culture. and i wish to mix these two and have something in the middle. i don't think these two are mutually exclusive.


ps- mutually exclusive is probably one of my top-5 favorite words.

i decided i want to write again. who knows how long it's going to last this time. it is very possible that it won't last long. but that shouldn't stop me from trying, should it?

this morning i woke up thinking i learn something new every day. something about myself, some new facts, something about my friends and so on.

the one new thing i learnt last week was about my tooth brush. now this might make me look a bit stupid, or maybe just not very attentive (which isn't very far from the truth). but here is the story:

i bought this tooth brush at least 3 months ago and used it since. only last week i saw that there are two tiny little buttons on it with + and - signs. so i pushed this tiny little button and what happened was pretty interesting...the tooth brush head started vibrating! i was very surprised and very puzzled at the same time. how did it happen that in the past 3 months i have never utilized this cool vibrating effect (well, maybe not as cool as some other vibrating effects but still)...how did i miss it, no really...

anyway, i did brush my teeth and felt squeaky clean afterwards. who knows if that little vibrating motion really does anything, but all of a sudden it's like i have something new, that i got for free...it's kind of funny.

that's it for right now. i have more.