A sacred place: Borders, Westwood.

We moved to West LA in September 1995. Borders wasn't there on Westwood yet. The problem is I don't recall what was there before Borders. It must have been irrelevant. It's like cell phones, you don't remember life before that.

Anyways, Borders was opened at some point later, I think in 1996, and that's when I found a hiding place. Sure I would go study there sometimes... upstairs at that cafeteria, and I would buy coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. Sometimes, they would burn the bagel.

But I would hide behind the stacks of the book shelves at other times and bury my head in books--for hours and hours. That's how I survived the years. Some lonely Friday, Saturday and Sundays nights even. Every time I was feeling down, I would go straight there and hide.

You can gladly call me a "bookoholic". It is an addiction like any other addiction since it is what separates you from your reality and numbs your pain

Last night as I entered the elevator, I smelled the same unique smell of coffee and bagel. The shelves have been rearranged of course, the walls repainted. But the two pay phones are still there by the bathrooms upstairs. Does anyone use them anymore?

As I walked around and browsed through some books, all of a sudden I saw him. My God, a familiar face. The guy, he has been working there forever, maybe even since day one that they opened. I felt so close to him. As if he was from my past.

I had to talk to him so I approached him and asked him a silly question. His name was Daniel. He was very helpful, very informative. He takes pride in his job and surely, he has stability in his life. At least, he has had this job for so long. I envied the stability of his life all of a sudden, and the fact that he is happy with his job.

I came out and felt happy that I had finally met Daniel after all these years. Who was it that said, "The more things change, the more they stay the same". Kinda makes sense.

Aahaneh Sorb Deedeh

She would hug me and tell me, "Aahaneh Sorb Deedeh Meeshi". Khaleh Sori, who passed away four years ago.

She would tell me this when I would cry day and night because they had taken Dad to Zendaaneh Evin.

She was right, except for one thing: I became more sorb over time, and the ahaan just got lost. It became absorbed in the sorb, and or evaporated.

I guess she had no clue what was coming for me. Evin was just the beginning.

I am an idiot. But at least i am at a juncture in my life that I recognize I am an idiot.

This present awareness of my own "idiocracy" is a big deal.

Therefore, I am glad to have recognized that I am in idiot, for to come out of this stage of idiocracy, the first step is always, well, awareness.

Yup.

Just a stranger on the bus...trying to make his way home...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Epow4VXhnW0

Brilliant work of art. Magic words.

First Date

After a few weeks of just talking on the phone, he asked me to meet him after school at " Park-e-Mellat".

Gharar gozashtem for 4 p.m. He said he would meet me in front of the park entrance or by the Bazaar Safavieh door.

I was 12 years old. I was nervous and scared to be caught by both my parents and a bunch of reeshoo pasdaars.

Nevertheless, I raised enough courage to get ready and exit our apartment on the second floor of the infamous brown building on Mirdaamaad.

The streets of Tehran were busy as usual for that time of the day. I waited for an orange Taxi. Yelled "Park e Mellat" to him and got on.

He drove off. My heart started beating faster and faster. He got to the end of Mirdaamaad about to make a right on Vali Asr, where Eskaan is. I felt like throwing up. I told him I need to buy something and forgot, so I am getting off. Gave him the money, ran out and walked back home.

He was waiting at the park for me though. There were no cell phones, no pagers. So I just had to wait until he calls me. Which he did, "negaraan". I told him what I did; I was honest. He was pissed, I mean pisssssssssed. Poor guy.

We didn't talk for a few days. Our first "ghahr". It was cute.

Now, 17 years later, I think that explains where my flaky nature comes from, especially on "First Dates".

Bad start.

Change

Change is necessary to existence and growth.

Some Change is normal and expected.

Other Change is a big surprise, such as waking up early on a Sunday morning to walk a little puppy, and watch him as he finds a lonely comfortable spot on the grass, lifts his back leg and empties his bladder.

That's the kind of Change that you don't see coming.

And that's the best kind of Change, of course.

Retreat

My idea of best vacation these days: staying up late watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy, while eating jello and ice cream. Staying in, in the morning, watching more episodes.

Maybe reading, maybe not.

A lunch with a friend with getting nails done.

A dinner with family.

Maybe a movie in theaters about lost love.

A few drinks at some random bar.

Back at home, more Grey's Anatomy till 2 a.m. (Yes, i enjoy being lost in the imaginary world of good-looking surgeons.)

***It's All About the Memories***

It was Wednesday before Thanksgiving, 2001.

I skipped class as usual since it makes no sense to have class the night before Thanksgiving.

We went to the Ebi concert together. It was his first Ebi concert. I had bought the tickets with the money I didn't have, consequence of which came later.

We held hands the whole time. At some point, he looked into my eyes and told he would propose to me if we stayed together through the next Thanksgiving! It sounded genuine and cute, if nothing else.

We didn't stay together. In fact, we barely made it through the New Year of that same year. But it didn't matter and never will because all that matters is how I felt that moment that he looked into my eyes, and said those words-- it affected me for eternity.

That's all that will matter ever.

That's why he'd always say, "it's all about the memories."

He was right.

************************************************

Behtareen Cheez Reseedan Beh Negaahist Keh az Haadeseh Eshgh Tar Ast.

What up ESL?

When he tells me about my grammar mistakes (plaintiff's counsel v. plaintiffs' counsel) I listen most of the time.

But today, I told him to leave me the hell alone because English is my SECOND language. (not that I am perfect at my first language either).

Now he is calling me ESL. Brings back great memories...NOT.

Thanksgiving, Inc.

This year will be my 17th Thanksgiving in America.

My very first Thanksgiving, Mamani made Turkey.

One year we had turkey sandwiches from Ralphes.

One year Dad made the Turkey. Not bad for a first timer.

One year Khaleh P made it.

Another year M Khan made it.

M Khanoom too. She made good cranberry pie and yams.

At Big Bear, Sam Sam made the best Turkey with his high tech syringe to make it moist.

One year Dad came back from Iran right before Thanksgiving and we had lots to give thanks for.

Last year, A cooked TaCheen and ordered Turkey from outside.

Three years ago we skipped the whole thing. No body really likes the dry turkey meat anyways; it's just formalities.

Three out of the 17 years of it they have not been here. So they have really had 14 Thanksgivings.

Some of them were vague and unclear, dark and gloomy.

One of them stands out the most and has the warmest memories of all for me, ever lasting memories. We drove to Tustin Ranch to Babaee's warm little apartment for Thanksgiving, where he had made big fat Turkey Kooftehs, with his famous garlic rice. We ate lots of anaar and naarengi afterwards, watched Friends and laughed. Then we slept over.

All these Turkeys killed all these years and the one year that sticks out the most in my mind, that poor Turkey had to be ground meat to make its powerful effect.

I miss Babaee every Thanksgiving, and every cold winter and every time I make a left on Irvine Blvd...and every moment that he is not here.

Berkeley, California

How I wish I was part of this life here...this super inclusive, super unreal world...

Everything here tastes, sounds and smells diferrent. Better? Not sure if better but just different.

The free WiFi just feels faster and friendlier, inviting you to explore more, explore the possibilities that are unknown...discover.

Even their coffee shops are different. What it is most likely is the vibration and energy that is generated by all these open-minded, free-spriited, tree-hugging creative yet intellectual human beings coming together under one roof, drinking cafe au lait. All these thoughts in the air make the energy feel so much different than a stupid regual starbucks on the corner of Culver and Irvine Blvd.

Even the cashier is different, she is knitting behind the counter, and you can buy her work here. I mean Wow!

And of course Jewel sounds ten times better singing

"These foolish games are tearing me apart
You're tearing me, tearing me, tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You're breaking my heart
You took off your coat and stood in the rain
You were always crazy like that ...."

What would happen if I drop everything and move here?

Bad Bad people

Procastination is a bad bad thing.

All procastinators should be jailed in this life time, and go to hell in the next.

Do it for your mother...

Somethings you have to do for your mother...once in a while. Just for her sake. Just so you can tell her you did it, you listened. You were good.

This one time, I am doing it for her. That's it. Just once.

What if...

She is 20 years old, second year of college. Hardworking, organized, punctual and vibrant. Full of dreams and aspirations. Kinda like me, how I used to be at that age.

She brings us donuts on Fridays, when she also wears make-up because those are the days she doesn't have school. At first she was shy and timid, but it took her maybe three weeks to open up and now she jokes around and even flirts.

Before she came, I was miserable and wanted to quit. I was lonely and depressed and talked to the walls. Then I told myself I should just wait a bit longer for the new girl to come and see what happens. So I waited. And now I enjoy working when she is here. I actually come to work because she is here and today, when she called in sick, I was sad again.

Does she even know how much I look forward to seeing her everyday?

I read this quote somewhere a while ago: "What if all the people in your life chose to be there to be around your light?"

Does she know that I chose to be around her light?

The story of my wall

I have had my wall around me for a long long time. Not sure when it came to be or how it came about, but somehow it got there. Maybe it was even more of a conscious decision than anything else, maybe one day I woke up and built it to protect myself? Whatever it is, me and my wall go way back.

Then a boy came along who didn't like wall, who fought with me to destroy the wall. At first I resisted, I fought back as I had always done before. But he was persistent and wouldn't give up. Plus he was so tall that he could see inside the wall anyways so it didn't matter. So I loosened up a bit, and I let go. Not sure if I got rid of the wall completely. In fact, I know I didn't. I think I just let him stand by the wall and hold my hand. Sometimes, I would even invite him inside for tea. Inside the wall, there isn't enough room two people. So that wouldn't work out well.

Then after a while I found out, to my surprise, that he had his own wall made out of a different material though. Mine is some kind of brick or stone, the kind that they used to make prisons out of. His is wood, really, like a cabin. He only goes in there once in a while to rest, to rejuvenate, to retreat. I, on the other hand, I live inside my brick wall permanently. I am so comfortable, so safe and secure. Nothing gets to me when I am inside there.

Everyone knows about my wall. My family, all my friends, everyone I have tried to be intimate with in the past. But no one was able to break in until he came along.

And now...I am fine, I am back inside my wall again, feeling all cozy and comfortable and safe again. Protected. The only difference is that at least sometimes I have the courage to hold my head out and take a peek outside the wall, and imagine the possibility that one day, maybe one day, I can destroy the wall myself, with my own two hands.

B.T. (Before Television)

What did people do before Television?

Oh, they actually lived a life instead of watching fictional lives.

Wow, that's profound. It must have been nice.

Karate Kid

"There is a pre-conceived notion by young attorneys that they can just whip through things. Well, let me break it to you kid, it ain't that way."

Woops.

Wax on. Wax off.

"i m sorry"

Sometimes I wonder if they'll ever forgive me for not taking care of them, for not supporting them, although they took care of me and supported me when I needed it, when I was helpless.

I suppose this is an issue that I should really work on now and try to resolve while I still have them around instead of waiting till they are gone,and ending up spending an astronomical amount of money in therapy, telling a stranger about my feelings.

I am sure it was never even an issue with them.
I am sure if I ever ask for forgiveness, they will laugh and say, for what?
I am sure it's all in my head...but it is what it is...even if it is in my head; it's there.

Subject: CONGRADULATION

The best congratulations wish I got when I passed the bar came from a woman who most likely had never finished high school herself, and it still helps me when I have a bad day at work:



From: _________@_______________
To: _________@hotmail.com
Subject: CONGRADULATION
Date: Thu, 26 May 2005 09:40:24 -0700

Hi

Congratulation to a very strong and determine person. It's great to see another female taking charge of her life and seceding . When I her that you didn't pass the first time, I really felt bad for you. I didn't say anything because I new you were very upset. So now Lets shout to the mountain top. CONGRATULATION! CONGRATULATION! CONGRATULATION!
Remember no how many case you lose, there is always the BIG ONE that you will win and it will mean more then any other one. In reverse no how many you win, there will be the one that you lose, that will make you set back and wonder what is it that you didn't see and make you more determine to do better the next time. Miss you and come back to visit.

LT

First Tuesday in November

Yet another voting day comes and I can't vote.

Wooops.

(I mean it's not funny but woooops!)

I am sure I will vote soon, maybe next year, maybe another year. Maybe when i start giving a shit one day.

(Ok, that's enough.)

Yesterday and Today

Yesterday we would sit in the cafeteria at school and talk, or occasionally have a short conversation in the library, the computer room or out in the patio. She would complain about life, school, grades, family and men and being single.

Today, she sits across the table from me at Barnes & Noble, married and pregnant with twins. She complains about life, work, family and being married. She advises me to "enjoy being single because your life changes forever when you get married" and wishes she would have waited longer to have kids to be able to build her career.

Yes, the grass is always greener on the other side. Always.

The angel that left us in 1998

November 4th of every year is her "saal". She died at age 26.

Around the time that she passed away, this song was a hit on the radio.

It seems like 100 years ago. At first I was so afraid, then mad, then depressed for a very very long time over her death.

Then I grew. And I learned more about life and death and how they are both the same really...now sometimes we hang out in my dreams.


Sarah McLachlan - Angel Lyrics


Spend all your time waiting for that second chance
For the break that will make it OK
There's always some reason to feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction or a beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
Let me be empty and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of the Angel far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

In the arms of the Angel far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

You're in the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

Khaily vaght bood daad nazadeh boodam saresh.

Maybe since she left? almost a year.

Today, I screamed pretty loud.

And I am actually happy about it.

She could be so annoying. She calls me and bitches about her own mother, my grandmother, for hours. Then she behaves exactly the same way.

Who am i gonna bitch at?

So I screamed.

Drunk ideas

Only two lawyers would discuss the possibility of filing a class action lawsuit against Sallie Mae Loan Servicing, while they are drunk, in the middle of a loud night club.

It's a brilliant way to get out of paying your debt actually: Sue the damn company, win some money, make them pay for the loans you borrowed out of their own pocket. Basically, thank them for allowing you to have the opportunity to go to law school and get the education where you can then come back and screw them over.

Lawyers are really scary people.

Sometimes I am even afraid of us.

The happiest woman I know

The happiest woman I know has fake teethe made out of some cheep metal, not even gold.

She drives a car without a driver's license, does not have a green card and probably will never ever get one.

She left her children behind in her old country and came here for a better life.

She laughs hysterically most of the time when you talk to her instead of responding to you.

She takes care of a disabled man, where I believe he also gives him housing.

She inhales massive amounts of toxins and chemicals during her work hours but doesn't care, and is healthy as a horse. Which is great because I doubt she has health insurance but why would she need it? Happy people don't get sick. All sickness comes from your thoughts.

Sometimes I pity her, in my own small mind, and in my attempt to help her, I give her some cloths and other stuff. But she doesn't need my pity. She is happy no matter what I give her. Her happiness is not contingent upon "things", you see.

The happiest woman I know is my cleaning lady.

Her name is Emma.

What am i so afraid of?

Maybe I should just go there and just see that they are ok, that they have a life, and an apartment and family and friends now... that people are normal there and this outrageously depressing mental picture that I have made up in mind is false. Maybe I should just go and see it for myself and get it over with.

Sooner than later.

What am i so afraid of?

Am I afraid of going there and then coming back here, to my life, and hating my life? And being even more bitter about this American move?

Dr. W is my best friend these days.

This January will be two years of our relationship.

She is the only one who has stayed since I packed and moved here to be with those I love. Everybody else left.

It's amazing what happens when you pay people.