Kaarhayeh Aghab Oftaadeh

She said you need to take care of them, every single one of them, because if you don't, they sit there in the corner of your mind forever, watching, nagging, shaking their legs in boredom sometimes, crying like babies at other times...take care of the unfinished business---it's actually a mental health issue.

She said it has taken her two years after her mom passed away but she is alomst done...with her Kaarhayeh Aghab Oftaadeh. It helps her heal, it helps her move on.

The smallest things count...even sewing a button on that old blue shirt, throwing away an old shoe box, and for me, finishing the Kite Runner from last year (since I just couldn't put up with all the tragedies of that book at that time in my life), and I have about three or four other books that I half-read...they have been sitting in the corner of my brain.

And yes of course, I need to finish knitting his scarf now, which has been sitting in the corner of my room for a while. And in the corner of my heart.

Blue December

Well, like I mentioned before, it always starts in October, really...when it gets cold and they move the times, and it gets dark out early, things just go down hill.

Maybe in my next life, I could be a bird and just fly away every time winter comes, to the other half of the globe, to keep warm...at all times.

What is it with this month? No matter how much I fight it, no matter how many Xmass cards I mail out and make sure I have the appropriate Holiday stamp...despite the fact that I try to attend mid-night mass on Xmass Eve...no matter how much I try to fit in with this so-called "Times of Joy"...I always fail. Something always goes wrong in December.

It might be also that the year is ending and my destructive over-achiever personality starts rewinding the year that just passed, like those stupid A- Year -In -Review they do on 60 Minutes on TV...and of course, no matter what I have done, I always feel like I didn't achieve It...not having a clue what "It" is really...something just didn't click this year. It's funny, b/c my life assignment for this year, as instructed by Dr. W was just to stay employed and take care of my health. Which, I did. (Unless of course, I get fired next week)...and i did way beyond that...way beyond what I believed I could achieve.

Yet, December is here and once again, and I am Blue.

EXPOSED

Every time I pick it up to write something in it, I realize that I am not comfortable with the idea of privacy anymore...that I rather you hear it, I rather you read it, I rather share my thoughts with you...and get the assurance in your eyes that i am not crazy...that I am not alone.

I am no longer guarded. I no longer a need to hide the little booklet under my bed, hoping no one would find it, read it and...laugh?

I rather put it out there with all honesty...that's why the new booklet I bought is still empty...cause I want you to hear me now...is this what intimacy is about?

This is why Sohrab's poem makes no sense to me anymore:

"beh soraagheh man agar meeyaeed, narm o aahesteh biyaeed...
Mabaadaa keh tarak bardaarad... cheeni naazokeh tanhaayeh man..."

Cheeny naazokam shekast...and I am fine.

I have been exposed...finally....and I am fine.

Is this why you came?... to expose me?

Don't Fret

WWW stands in my office doorway every once in a while, just like a concerned father, when he sees and feels the lack of smile on my face or the presence of annoyance. He looks at me directly in the eye and says: "Don't Fret...no need to fret about it...just get it done." So powerful. So effective when he demands that I not fret.

Really, i think it's the first time i hear this word, maybe it's an old school thing...after all, his bar # is 5 digits...So I decided to look up the word on line and here is what Webster gives you:

1.
to feel or express worry, annoyance, discontent, or the like: Fretting about the lost ring isn't going to help.
2.
to cause corrosion; gnaw into something: acids that fret at the strongest metals.
3.
to make a way by gnawing, corrosion, wearing away, etc.: The river frets at its banks until a new channel is formed.
4.
to become eaten, worn, or corroded (often fol. by away): Limestone slowly frets away under pounding by the wind and rain.
5.
to move in agitation or commotion, as water: water fretting over the stones of a brook. –verb (used with object)
6.
to torment; irritate, annoy, or vex: You mustn't fret yourself about that.
7.
to wear away or consume by gnawing, friction, rust, corrosives, etc.: the ocean fretting its shores.
8.
to form or make by wearing away a substance: The river had fretted an underground passage.
9.
to agitate (water): Strong winds were fretting the channel. –noun
10.
an irritated state of mind; annoyance; vexation.
11.
erosion; corrosion; gnawing.
12.
a worn or eroded place.
[Origin: bef. 900; ME freten, OE fretan to eat up, consume; c. OS fretan, Goth fraitan, OHG frezzan (G fressen)] —Related forms
fretter, noun
—Synonyms 1. fume, rage. 6. worry, harass, goad, tease. 7. erode, gnaw, corrode, abrade, grind, rub, rust. 10. harassment, agitation, worry.
Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.0.1)Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, ©

A said once he thinks WWW is like Colombo and I believe it now.

So I have decided, sometimes in life, one just needs to stop fretting and things will fall into their place. That's all.

Kaffash

There is something about them...all of them...the entire act of polishing, and shining people's old shoes, all day long, day after day. And then there is the whole key making situation. Who in the world came up with the idea that a shoe repair guy should also make keys? I mean, maybe they (?) thought it was so demeaning to just make keys that you also had to shine shoes to feel better about yourself?

Just want to know if anyone else has ever questioned the relationship between keys and shoes?

The Kaffash on Motor Ave... the little old man who was missing a couple of front teethe and his shop was as small as my closet. His Persian radio loud...you could hear it on the sidewalk. He was a character. All you could think of was "how in the world this guy came to America?", "Was he a kaffash in Iran?"..."has his life changed at all in America?"

Then I moved and of course looked aggressively for a new kaffash...tried a couple of ones and didn't like them. Beh delam nachasbeedan.

Until I found the new Kaffash. Right on my way to work and home. His Spanish music always on and loud...there is a poster of James Dean sitting in his shop...he has three big plants that need water and are dying. His English is pretty good...and boom, there is a huge American Flag in his store. Of course, keys are hanging on the wall. His price is reasonable.

So now I have a new Kaffash.

Wait...did the Persian kaffash in LA make keys? I don't remember seeing keys...maybe I should go back and check next time I m in LA...and just to say hello. Would he remember me?