Breaking bread

GN can't spell but he has 21 employees on the payroll. I always knew spelling was overrated. (Or is it that he is so old he just can't type fast enough and messes up his spelling?)

GN yells at me sometimes and says, "are you still sittin' on that assignment?". God, he is smart. He knows I just sit on shit, and sit and sit...

GN has three daughters, and is contemplating having a fourth child, hoping it would be a son. I give him the approval to go for it, of course, after having had two glasses of wine with dinner.

GN knows how to count from 1 to 10 in Farsi, and says I should change my last name to Koochooloo because it suits me better.

GN is inappropriate, uses cuss words and hits on the 24-year-old waitress.

But GN is also a man of God, he goes to temple regularly and sent the the bacon-wrapped sirloin back to the kitchen because it's not Kosher.

I might give GN a longer chance and stay there...just a bit longer than I thought.

I might, I might...

Why I am bitter to be in America, even if it's my home

I didn't choose to come here. It was by no means my decision. I was 12 and happy where I was. They made a decision and dragged me here, they separated me from my friends and my first love, and my room and my home. And that hurt, and it hurt for a long, long time.

So I have been bitter ever since. Sure they gave me a better life, but I can't help being bitter. I may have had an even better better life if we had stayed. That's why I question everything, and fight every system, and find every loophole.

I simply did not choose to come here, on my own.

I still have the right to be bitter, even if America is my home now. In fact, the very fact that I live here gives me the advantage to sit at dinner, drink a glass of wine, cuss out the President and express my bitterness about living here.

Wow. how ironic.

I am all of my lovers

Seven years ago M told me, I am still a baby, that I have so much to see, so many others to love, a long way to go before my heart is ready. He was so right. Of course, I didn't believe him, until I had to go through and experience it all.

B told me I am going to lose the battle if I don't open up, if I don't communicate, if I don't let go, and if don't let emotions flow in. "It's not always sarcasm. At some point, the sarcastic comments should stop, and real serious talk starts". I didn't believe him, and I resisted him and fought with him until the last day and even when it was over, I kept resisting him in my mind. Then one day, five years later, it hit me that he was also right. But I had to do it on my own time. I had to learn it on my own terms.

A mere stranger I went on a date with once told me "love is beautiful, even when it's over. Its effects are eternal." He was also right, and this stuck to me.

And many many more.

Without them, I would not be who I am today.

Villa Koochikeh

Villa Koochikeh, on 6th St., Darya Kenar, was the first villa that I remember. There is a home video of me there when I was 20-days-old, so it was there way before I was born. It must have gotten the nickname of "Villa Koochikeh" when we bought the second Villa on 12th St., and since that one was way bigger, we called that one "Villa Bozorgeh"! (How simplicity works). What we called Villa Koochikeh before Villa Bozorgeh came into picture, I do not recall. I used to think that Villa Bozorgeh was the mother and Villa Koochikeh the child.

Villa Koochikeh was very quaint. It had one small bedroom downstairs, and they had remodeled the garage into a second bedroom, which was really cold during Norouz time and no body wanted to sleep there. It had one bathroom and shower that we all had to share. The kitchen was bigger than the bedroom, of course, since cooking and eating was a big deal. It also had hardwood floors. At any given time, 20-30 people stayed there. How we fit, and where we slept exactly is beyond me, but we did.

Then there was the "Loft". Wow, the Loft was so exciting because no one in Tehran had anything like it in their houses, and the Loft made this little cabin so chic and westernized. A room without a door! I always wanted to sleep there or just spend time up there and look at everyone sitting in the living room and wave at them.

The back yard was huge, but it only had a couple of trees. Only my Daee Hamid liked to water the plants and garden, and if he wasn't coming with us, the trees remained thirsty.

In front of the Villa across the street, there were rows and rows of pine trees. Their fresh smell was the sign that we had reached our destination each time we travelled there.

From the Villa, it was a few blocks to the beach, and a few blocks to the famous one and only Daryakenar supermarket, which I biked to frequently to buy various things daily.

Then it happened.

All the bad stuff. The revolution, the war, people fleeing. Something happened with Villa Koocheekeh. There was a sale of some sort but not quite, and it was gone. I just know that my childhood is very much like Scarlett O'Hara's life spent in Tara during the good old days...and then boom..it was all gone.

And now, I just dream of it sometimes. Dream of its warm and comforting walls, and the vaulted ceilings. And I dream that one day I can go back and write a check to the new owner of it, whomever it may be, and buy it back to reclaim at least part of identity. But then what? it would never be the same again because by then, half the people who were part of that memory will be gone.

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

From the Great Gatsby

Fear-based living

Saw this great movie called "Defending your life". A comedy about dying, having a trial, with lawyers defending you, where you have to defend your life if you want to move up to another level of the universe. It was shown that people on earth live their lives based on fear and unless and until they learn to get rid of that fear, they will not spiritually advance. Also, earth people or "little-brainers" as they were called, only use 3-5% of their brains because...well, "if you use more, you don't even want to be on earth anyways."

Basically, if you want to think about it really deeply, ma hameh vel ma'taleem.

Great movie.

Acting skills

She has three siblings who are are MDs (Indian family) and she calls me for medical advice!

What is it with me that makes people believe i know what i am talking about? really, I just pretend i know what I am talking about, most of the time.

"Ghahr Ghahroo"

Some people are Ghahr Ghahroo and some aren't. That simple. I am one.

I learned it from my mom growing up, how she didn't talk to my dad for days or weeks at a time, or stopped talking to family and friends. Just stopped calling them.

That's it. That easy.

So I picked it up and I do it, all the time, with everyone. I know that I can do it and how it is such a powerful skill to have actually, it's like an on/off switch. One morning, you wake and you just turned it off. Sometimes, you even take out the batteries and throw them out just so you won't be tempted turn it back on.

If you didn't grow up in such a household, with such a mother, you will never get it.

How did i end up picking up so much of her? I always ran the other way.

Crisis Times

You can't work during crisis, you can't really socialize, shop, party, or be productive, or plan for a business. Just like when the twin towers came down. You must wait and see, or volunteer your time to ease the pain. You must acknowledge that it is a crisis, and that things are not normal.

What I hate about any crisis is my automatic response that stems from memories of growing up during the war. The alertness, the "I-don't-know-what-will-happen-tomorrow" State of mind, packing and running away but also being together with family and friends and knowing the life is short. It's a double edge sword.

To make or not to make your bed in the morning?

Some days I want to make my bed. In fact, I am eager to make my bed, i look forward to getting up and making my bed because it sets a mood for my day to come. It's practically the first achievement of my day.

Some other days, the world is in such state of chaos that if I make my bed, it would be an insult to the chaos. I have to respect the chaos sometimes by not making my bed.

Today is one of those days. When half the state of California is burning down.

Rover Attorney Needed

I might as well do it now in 2007 than later in 2008, if I get the offer, I might as well change jobs now. Again, this year. We might as well make 2007 the year of job changing for me. It will be my 5th job this year, counting B's office of course.

Perspective helps. In 20 years, it will be funny. In 20 years, it will be a great story to tell my children?...perspective always helps.

So if they make me the offer, i might as well take it now, start a new job at the end of 2007, fill out yet another W-4 and see what happens...

"Rover", hobo calls me. That is so hilarious. Rover security guards move around different assignments. I kinda like being a Rover Attorney.

Maybe we are just a "Rover" kinda family...

Mega Friday

I have been buying my mega from this gas station in Fullerton, on the corner of Harbor and Berkeley, on my way to work for the past two and a half months, every single Tuesday and Friday. Naturally, the gas station attendant has gotten to know me and what I want. $1 Mega. That's all.

Last night, I was waiting at another gas station and has some time to kill. Thought i should just buy my Friday Mega and get it over with. But I remembered him, and thought, what if he waits for me and starts to worry about me? Besides, it's bad luck to buy the ticket the day before. So I decided against it.

This morning, as I walked inside the store and stood in line behind this lady, he saw me and smiled. By the time, I walked up to him, he had my Mega ready. I smiled. I told him i am going to win one day, and if I win, they win. (And that would be a "win/win" situation--what a cliche.)

And that's how you build the most ordinary relationships in the world, ladies and gentlemen.

That's what my Dad did with every single human being he met. He called everybody "buddy" or "amigo". I am sure he is still doing it today, as he rides the taxis, and buses, and metros and mini-booses of Tehran.

I miss my Dad so much. Sometimes, I buy Mega just for him.

This Blue October...

This Blue October is almost over...

May there never be another Blue October, ever, nor another Blue November, nor a Blue December...

Momentary Self Confidence is Good Enough

Pomona Court house is located near the 6o Freeway in Los Angeles. When I map quested it yesterday, I thought I hadn't been there before. You see, because I was taking a different route to get there: the 261 to 241 to 91 to 71. I had never been on the 71 freeway, at 7 in the morning before either. It was beautiful, with the sun coming out of the morning fog, driving on a two-lane road, it felt more like a road-trip than work. (Well, going to court is always a road-trip, except going to downtown L.A., when you don't move on the 5 Freeway. That's more like a "Road Halt".)

Anyway, as I drive, with no traffic and get there early, I pull into the parking lot of this corner Starbucks. All of a sudden, things begin to look "aashenna". Yes, I have been here before, had gotten my tall cafe latte too. I don't know why, but I decide against going inside the Starbucks this time. Wait, I know why. Lately, my stomach can't handle their coffee, which could be a good thing for my pocket. So I sit in the car for five minutes and watch people, then drive to the parking lot of the court house, where they charge $6 for parking, cash. Of course, I only have $2 in cash so I have to go around the not-so-nice neighborhood and look for parking. Yes, I have definitely been here. I think two years ago, when I was at my very first job as a lawyer. Except, last time, I had taken the 10, to the 60 to something else. It's amazing what happens when to the same destination when you look at it from a different angle.

I park. I start walking. All of sudden, it hits me today is October 18th, and exactly two years ago, I started at D & Associates. I arrived in the morning and she had put some discovery questions on my desk. She told me, as if I was a first grader, "these are Form Interrogatories",

Alef, beh, peh,teh,seh. After 22 years of schooling, let's start back from alef, beh, shall we? No problem.

But today, as I am walking, I feel much more confident, and the palms of my hands are not sweaty anymore. I go through the security check, and smell the fresh brewed coffee at the cafeteria, and decide to get myself a cup of $1.15 court coffee. I am happy now.

I go to the fifth floor. There are 12 attorneys waiting to be called at that particular department today, two of them woman, one of the woman me. Ten others are white males in their 40's and 50's. Out of the ten males, I have worked on cases with two of them before! and I am only considered a third year lawyer. This is a small world, I tell you.

Everything goes smoothly, I am feeling good, I am feeling confident,I come out and come back to the office. My first phone call is my new boss who says to me, without saying hello, "did you write these discovery questions to so and so on this case?" "yes", I reply. "Well...you wrote some stupid questions!"

great. thanks. so much for ever lasting self-confidence.

And suddenly, all i can think of at this moment is Alanis:

isn't ironic, don't you think?
it's a little too ironic
yeah I really do think
Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out

The Blow Dryer Transition

Transitions are hard. There are just too many of them. One of them happens in October for me, when the weather gets cold. All of a sudden, I have to start blow drying my hair after a shower. Today I forgot. I left the house with wet hair and I almost froze to death. Then I was like, "Oh shit, it must be October again///"

God, damn it...so many things to remember.

ME in 15 years

I have found myself, 15 years from now with four kids, married, Un-depressed, and much much cooler (if that's even possible that I can cooler than this). I said, let's get together this weekend, she said, " I can't. I have soccer practice, and softball practice, and boy scout and girl scout."

That's me in 15 years. I can see it very clearly, running around like a chicken with her head cut-off, and yet having enough time to get my nails done, reading the latest Supreme Court case, and cussing whoever was the swing vote.

I hope she helps me snap out of who i am now and pulls me towards my future.

The universe brought us together almost two years ago and on that very first day, we clicked. She stopped by my office to say hello and we talked for almost one hour, after the hello. We knew the same people. We had the same interests.

I knew then that she would be in life for a long time.

Her name is Margaret Elder. Her real name. How ironic.

"Elder". M.E., ME!!! me, Wow.

Crazy shit.

I rather believe in crazy shit than not. It's much more fun that way.

On Why I Hurt People

Sometimes I have hurt others because they hurt me first. Like self-defense, in legal terms.

Sometimes, I have hurt others because I suspected that would or might or will hurt me at some point in the future. Like a preemptive strike, in political terms.

Yet, other other times, I have hurt others for no reason, logic or explanation whatsoever...maybe because human beings are just far too complex than that...

Just as soon as i begin to think i am staying here, something else happens. I mean, i even got a Fullerton Library card--public library-- for God's sake, as a means of settling down.

Why do i have such trouble with settling down? I can't run away for the rest of my life. I would be running away from me...and it's an oxymoron...you take yourself with you, where ever you go, Unfortunately, that is.

The fortune cookie that finally did it.

The thought to move out came about a long time before the move actually happened itself, which is of course true about anything and everything else in life. Oh...I don't know...maybe four years before it?

Well, first came the thought. Then, came a lot of discussions and arguments about why I even wanted to move out in the first place. Then I started looking at places. Then I looked at my finances and it looked bad. Then I put away the thought for a while. Then it became a big joke and the family made fun of me, and no one believed that I would eventually move out.

Then...I started looking again. And finally one day, I had Chinese food for lunch and my fortune cookie said, "If you want to do something, just get up and do it". I posted it to my computer monitor at work. It took me two weeks to find a place, announce to family and friends that I was moving out. And boom, I was gone.

And that is the power of a fortune cookie.

(I think I still have the damn saying too.)

Vasiat Naameh

I want my friends and family to learn about this blog only after I die, for what I write here may hurt them too much, and I may just not be able to handle it while still alive.

I will write this address on my life insurance plan somewhere.

Ms. H.A.

She is 47 and has a 23 year old son. The story is that she got married when she was young, had a kid and her husband was mean to her. He may even have beaten her. Then one day she left him and the son and came to America. She didn't see her son for years.

She is still so beautiful for her age and has great skin. To the point that I even ordered her skincare line finally. I figured...look at the results. Her voice is calm, her demeanor even calmer, she is always polite, doesn't laugh out-loud ever.

But her eyes, her eyes are sad. They carry in them sadness of the years. Last month, she had to leave her own place and move in with her mother and brother. For 47 year-old woman to move in with mom and brother...it must be tough.

Despite all this, she has a certain sense of peace about her life. She has accepted what life has brought her, and still wakes up every morning, puts on her daily moisturizer, and full make-up and goes about her day.

Maybe it's her son that keeps her going so strong...

I like going to her. In fact, the days I see her are one of my most calming, relaxing days of the month. Even her sadness is calming because of the mere fact that she has accepted her sadness. She has welcomed it. She has befriend it.

I hope life can be more generous to her.

If i lay here...would you lie with me and just forget the world?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxXwIIBlSgw

Kootah Fekraan

People just piss me off. They piss me off even more now that I am meditating and trying to attain a higher energy level. They say the dumbest things. They spent so much time analyzing other people's lives and failing to take a peek at their own, for when you do look at your own life, for when you do sit with yourself even for a brief moment, you will be nothing but depressed, until of course you work on yourself. And people are so scared of sitting with themselves. That's why they spent their time criticizing others. It's all an act of running away from the self.

So she takes me outside in the rain to tell me that I "looked so unhappy that night", assuming that she knew exactly why I looked unhappy, meeting me for the first time. Thanks for noticing MOFO. Why don't you first of all find a doctor to redo your fucked up nose job, take a look at your own life and your jackass boyfriend who sleeps around all the time, and leave me alone since my hair is getting fuzzy in the rain.

People piss me off.

Time heals

The year was 1996. The song was one of Modern Talkings. His nose was big and he had chest hair. He was so unsure of himself, so young, and so uptight. We danced all night. I came home and could not sleep. I thought I was in heaven.

11 years later, he still has a big nose, but he shaves his chest hair. He has lost some weight, and has gained some confidence. The years have helped him loosen up a bit.

And I am no longer that young stupid girl in love.

Thank God for time because of its healing power. For when you look back, all you really ask is, "was that really me?"

One Box at a Time

I have to come up with a plan regarding the boxes the garage.

I need to do one box per weekend. That's all. Just one. That will motivate me to the point that may actually become excited and clean out two or three boxes at a time but the goal is ONE box per weekend.

I can just imagine the light feeling after cleaning out those stupid boxes out of my life. I would open so much space in my mind.

I need to de-clutter my mind one box at a time.

I have decided the worst part of the week is Friday afternoons. It's like running a track race, and you are at the last 50 yards, out of breathe, out of water, out of hope, out of motivation, even though the end is near, you just don't give a F%*& anymore.

So...maybe I would just blog for the rest of today.

Kill Freud

Jung and Freud did not have to pay so many bills, or commute to work in traffic on five different freeways. (Shit, did they even driver to work or sit on a couch and theorized all day?) They didn't have to bill hours for work, or wait in line at the post office. They had no internet access, which means they also did not waste much time. They didn't get routed to India when they called their bank. They did not have to deal with the war on terror and its global effects on humanity, and everything else that has caused great distressed for mankind today.

In this day and age, people have so much going, they don't have time for the typical Jungian/Freudian bullshit of the subconscious. In fact if it was so important, why was it pushed under the covers to become the sub or the unconscious anyway? There must have a reason.

For me personally, I just enjoy the simple cognitive-behavioral therapy which helps me set short-term goals: In the morning, wake up and get out of bed. Take Prozac and Vitamins. Take a shower. Drink coffee. Make sure my car has sufficient amount of gas. Driver safely to work. Avoid accidents. Try to get a few hours of productive work done. Make a couple of phone calls, such as a change of address or a bill dispute. Eat a healthy meal. Drive home safely without any car accidents. Pick up dry cleaning. Buy milk. Check mail. Maybe watch a movie. Maybe call a friend.

Get it? Get through the day...that's my goal. Now, when do I have time to deal with the subconscious crap?

I am sorry Freud, it's time to admit it man, you are officially obsolete. You are out. Gone. Done. Finito.

And I haven't even gotten into your phallic little dirty mind. But who cares...be gone.

Babaee Azizam

Delam barat tang shodeh.

You have been gone five and half years now. I feel you all the time around me. Hear you all the time. I hear you saying "I am 24..." making fun of me. Although I am no longer 24. Now I get it though. I really really get it. I thought I was so aadam at 24.

Ok, so the purpose of this letter is complaint about you know who...hobo has been really fucking up lately and i know that you said last time "don't judge him" but we are really really getting tired of him. And I don't want to rescue him anymore.

So please do something. Get through his head somehow. Really. This one is on you.

Thanks and sincerely,

Your favorite naveh

Layla

(ok, maybe I wasn't your favorite...)

"Ozaa Paseh"

Ba'zi vaghta dar zendegi ozaa paseh. Unfortunately, that "ba'zi" happens a lot for our family. It's like we have a whole new definition of "ba'zi".

Of course, then it passes for a while, the sea is calm and it's sunny.

Fe'lan keh O'zah Passeh.

The boy who lived in that apartment...

Sometimes I cry more on a Monday, sometimes more on a Tuesday, sometimes least on a Wed., sometimes most on a lonely Sunday evening. Sometimes I laugh hysterically in the car by myself on a Thursday. Sometimes I feel nothing on a Friday. Sometimes I waved at the children in the neighborhood on Saturdays.

Of course, every day of the week, I have my moments of anger.

Days of the week just go by and I keep asking questions:

Was it a dream? Did my imagination make it up? Did he even exist? Did my powerful mind painted him in that apartment in Laguna Beach with a fire place and vaulted ceilings, hugging me upon opening the door, where I wanted to stay forever?

I think it was a dream. I think I have a very powerful mind.

I think I have to be wary of my mind from now on.

Disc Cleanup

I do it every once in a while. You know when it's necessary...when it's freezing, when it's slow, when it makes weird sounds.

The notation reads "The Disc Cleanup utility is cleaning up unnecessary files on your machine", and as it is doing it, it makes this elevating noise, like the sound of an airplane taking off...and then off it goes. Boom. All those dirty, old files gone.

How come human beings don't come with instructions on how to do disc cleanup? It is badly needed.

Holding on to its body

Sam died.

They sent Sam II, with a coffin for Sam to be deposited into and sent back. First of all, it took me a whole week to actually pull the plug and de-activate him. And now, I have had Sam's dead body in my car for a week and I refuse to bury him in the coffin and send him back. Not yet.

I am still holding on to him...attachments can be fatal. I guess what bugs me is that I had just learned his ways, recently familiarized myself with his little nuances or what not...and now I have to start all over again...

And again, and again...

Saresho Garm Kon

Sar Garmi is defined an activity which you become engaged in to forget about other problems, issues, concerns, etc. Momentarily, of course It is mostly because human beings really have a limited ability to use their senses. We do some multi-tasking but cognitive research has shown that for the most part, human brain can only concentrate on one thing at the same time.

Sar Garmi is great. It helps you ignore the core problems, it helps you stay in denial longer. What is interesting that sometimes Sar Garmi actually turns into the main thing. If you give it enough time, you may want to drop everything else and just concentrate on your Sar Garmi. Isn't that true?

If it is true, then we can logically conclude that Sar Garmi may lead into something more than a mere distraction. Sar Garmi may become the real Thing. If you give it time, if you are lucky...if...if...if...

"Saresho Garm Kon", He said she told him to do. We both laughed. What am i? A dumb child? Or maybe I am...

I don't mind giving it a try. You never know...

I didn't fight for Mr. blue eye at all when he left. I even sent him a card saying thanks for coming to my life. Isn't that amazing? It was just so intuitively obvious that he was there for a short time, to fulfill a certain purpose...which he did, so perfectly. Very well done. He got an A+ in fact.

I almost let go too fast. Everyone around me was surprised, "you handled that very well..." They would say. I knew...you see...I knew why he came and that he had to leave when he did. Just like Merry Poppins came and left.

Some people come in for a definite purpose, and when they leave, you know they were meant to leave. And life goes on. Others come in and change you forever. When they leave, you have to live with this newly changed person that you barely know, and constantly ask, "What the Heck did he just do to me?"