Monday, December 17, 2007


Sanaz could not find me. She thought that it may be due to her alcohol intoxication. It was a big cabin and she had to search three stories. The rest of the individuals present did not realize that I was missing. Sanaz finally found me. I was spread out in the middle of a flight of stairs. I had not been able to make it to the bottom of the flight and had passed out in the middle of my journey to the bottom floor of the cabin.
Act one started with me singing an "Andy" song on top of a stool in the bar, and Sanaz spilling her drink on the lap of an innocent bystander. Act two was Mohammad trying to keep both Sanaz and I from running across the street in order to get to the next bar. Act three was was when I asked Mohammad to take Sanaz outside because she was not feeling well, and ending up puking myself when the fresh air had contact with my face. Act four was Payam trying to drive my car to take us home and having to immediately halt in order for Shideh to hurl. Even though shideh did not have much to drink apparently throwing up is contagious for her. Act five was Sanaz and I both making sure that each other's hair does not get in the way of our puke. The final act was Mohammad laughing at my loud moans coming from the upstairs bedroom, as I was laying helpless on Sanaz's bed.
It was new year's eve in Vegas. Anahita was taking a nap with her head on her lap as she was sitting very close to the roaring band. We continually threw pieces of paper at her. She would raise her head once every few throws, look at us and go back down. She ended up dancing on the side walk to her own singing of "man delam mari ro mikhad...".
Maryam went to the bathroom. She did not return. I had to go see what the hold up was. She had locked herself in the stol and would not open the door. She refused to come out or let any one in. The manager of the bar had to be called. He continually demanded that I get my friend out. I was helpless. Maryam was assured that Houman had gotten the car and is waiting by the curb. She came out and was carried to the car.
Bahareh and Maryam were passed out in the freezing car as the rest of us were having a 3:00 a.m. breakfast in the restaurant. Maryam kept trying to see if Bahareh was breathing. She concluded that Bahareh was dead due to not being able to see her breath. Bahareh finally had to let out a mellow moan in order for Maryam to calm down.
One morning Sasan woke up on the lawn in front of his dorm. He realized that the night before he had not quite made it inside the building before he had passed out!
Good times, good times...

Tuesday, December 11, 2007


Maryam and I were walking down the street and talking about what type of guys we liked. As we emerged from "Razaneh Junubi" and stepped onto "Mirdamad" I looked to my left toward the bus stop and among the men & women who were waiting for the bus, one stood out to me. He was tall, dark, handsome, and delicious looking. I pointed him out to Maryam and said to her "there he is, that is exactly the type of guy I like... een khoobeh" as an example of my ideal guy. He looked reserved, shy, confident, and most importantly beautiful. She looked at him and I was satisfied that now she knows, and we continued on our walk. As the topic of our conversation continued we had to refer back to my ideal guy from the bus stop, so we naturally called him "khoobeh". Eventually this noun became part of our vocabulary as we referred to him or "khoobeh" as the face of a perfect guy... for me.
A couple of days later as Maryam and I were walking in our neighborhood we saw "khoobeh" again! How unlikely it is that we would run into this person, the one I had picked out in a crowd, again! I was in the the state of complete and utter excitement, yet keeping my cool and calm demeanor to save face in public. Eventually we realized that he lived in the same neighborhood as us, therefore taking the same routs as us. Now it was a daily project or excitement for me to step out and hope to get a glimpse of those enchanting and dreamy eyes, the dark wavy hair, and the absolutely adorable shy look he had.
As time went by we obtained more information about him, such as which street he lived in, who his friends were, at what times he can be spotted out in the evening, and that he noticed me too.
One day Maryam and I were walking from her house to mine and of course we took the long way to do that in order to run into "khoobeh", which we did. This time some thing amazing happened, he and his friend walked as well. They walked all the way to the end of the street as we did, they took the turn to the next street as we did and they continued to walk the same path as Maryam and I, they walked with us, only about 15 feet appart. We arrived at my street which was a dead end where "khoobeh" and his friend stopped and refrained from entering. They continued to remain standing at the entrance of our street and continued to wait for us to walk all the way to the end of the street, ring the door bell and enter the house.
It was evening time, when the sun had gone down and the city was starting to cool down from the torching summer heat. That is when all the boys and girls would come out of their homes and into the streets, each of them hoping to run into their own "khoobeh". So Maryam and I left the house as well.
That night we were rushing home after being out for too long when we saw "khoobeh" at his usual spot leaning against a car talking to his friends and looking adorable. He looked so good that once again my heart started to lose its patience and I had to contain it in my chest. He and his friends walked again, following us, but this time one of the friends, a very tall funny guy walked up to me and started a conversation. Maryam completely ignored him as she believed in appearing very angry in the streets in order to avoid the losers who try to approach you. I on the other hand had to try very hard not to lose my cool, I had a very hard time keeping my senses in tact. From what I was able to perceive from the friend through the loud beat of my heart and shaking of my hands was that his friend ("khoobeh") "likes me" and would like to provide me with his phone number, however he is too shy to come forward and converse with me personally, hence sending his friend to do the job for him. The next thing I knew I was handing the friend a notebook in order for him to trace "khoobeh"'s phone number for me. It was all so surreal to me, out of this world. How often do you have the one person who you had picked out of the entire city as an example of your ideal guy to be interested in YOU? Well, at least it had never had happened to me before, and at that time I was walking on clouds! Somehow I managed to walk the rest of the way home pretending to be calm and collected. Maryam and I ran up all of the 62 stairs to my house. We ran into the bedroom, held each other's hands and started jumping up and down, "whisper screaming" and laughing... celebrating! Later Maryam told me that her older and very protective brother had seen us do that through the window reflection of the bedroom, we had forgotten to close the door!
That was the start of my phone conversations with "khoobeh" (who had a name now, but we continued to call him "khoobeh"). The whispers over the phone that would go on for hours when no one was looking. All I could think about was how to find time to get to a phone with out being caught, when my parents leave the house, when I can hide in Maryam's room, etc. I stopped eating because the excitement was too much for my body. I even missed family gatherings which were given in our honor by relatives who I had not seen in years, because I could not miss one day of seeing his long eye lashes. One day when I passed by him very close up, I spent the next few days replaying those 5 seconds in my head over and over.
We talked and talked about every thing, and when I called him, each time he would start with "salam azizam" in a very low and soft voice which would make my heart skip a beat, or five! He said the most romantic things to me, words that girls love to hear such as "how am I going to live with out you after you leave". Even though deep down I knew the validity of them were highly improbable, I went along with the utterly satisfying romantic lines, both for his sake and mine. The phone conversations went on, but the extent of our face to face contact was passing each other out in the street. Although one time we walked together, but each one of us on different sides of the street!
One day I had to go from Maryam's house to mine to get ready for a big family engagement party. Before hanging up the phone with "khoobeh" he told me that he was home alone. So I did what every girl in that situation would NOT do, a very bold thing for being in that setting. I headed over to his house! I rang the door bell and proceeded to go inside. I was in such state of anxiety that my body was actually shaking, both for the fear of getting caught and for seeing and talking to "khoobeh" in person. It was the first time that we were looking at each other close up, he seemed like a stranger to me. We sat in his formal living room about 10 feet apart, and my head scarf remained on the entire time. I left his house after 10 minutes. When I think about the risk I took that day now, it gives me the chills. The entire engagement party I went over every detail of what happened and what was said, with Maryam and in my head.
The time had come for me to go back home to America, meaning having to say good bye to every one including "khoobeh". As much as I loved hearing him ask me to stay with him and not to leave him, I never gave it a second thought, knowing the reality of things, the reality of every thing.
It was our last night in Iran and all of our family and friends were over at our house once again. And I, not being as proper as I should have been, was out with a friend again. I had to see "khoobeh" and say goodbye to him in person. I had arranged to see him before we arrived home, at the entrance of our dead end street. This is the picture I have in my mind when I think about that night: It is dark, "khoobeh" and I are hiding on the side of the street behind a big old truck, my friend is out in the middle of the street alone, as Maryam's brother drives by on his way to our house when he stops to ask my friend what she is doing there and where I was at. But all I cared about and all I could see was "khoobeh" kneeling in the dirt by my side and whispering. I asked him to write in my memory book, and he did. We said our goodbyes, and during the entire encounter we did not get close enough physically to even brush up against each other! That was the last time I ever saw "khoobeh". When I checked the book to see what he had written later that night my heart sank as I read "I love you".
Later when I came back home to America I sent him a letter through Maryam and I received a letter back from him. In it he wrote about how much he missed me and how it felt like a drug had been taken away from him. He also informed me that he had been accepted to the University for Engineering and was very excited. That was the last time I ever heard from "khoobeh".
15 years has gone by and life has gone on with it's twists and turns, but the memory of that summer and "khoobeh" always stayed with me. The innocence of that time, the pureness of our ages, and the simpleness of it all. It is amazing how we remember such details from that time of our life, such as the dirt that was smeared on my memory book from his fingers. Maybe it is because every feeling is so much more exaggerated and new, where as now it is hard to even reach those feelings again. These are the memories that you can never re-create, so you hold on to them in order to sweeten up your life during hard times. These are the memories that fill up the happy pages of your story book. I some times wonder where "khoobeh" is and what he is doing now, but deep down in my heart I know that I do not want that information, because I want to save my memory of him as it is and not ruin the ending to my sweet little story.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

Oh Baby

People are starting to ask me that dreaded question. It was bound to come sooner or later. The question that you cannot avoid once you get married: "So when will you have a baby?". The quick answer that I give them is "I am not sure, when we feel ready", and I hope that it is not followed by a series of more questions. The long answer is "I'm not sure if I even want a baby", but I refrain from that answer to avoid this: "But you do not know, it is so worth it once you are holding that little baby in your arms".
Here is what I think when I think about a baby of my own: First comes my body expanding, large tummy, swollen ankles, fat face, and a big behind. 9 months of discomfort such as frequent puking, followed by the most excruciating pain one will ever experience in their life, and having strangers stick their heads into my privates and pulling out things such as the "mucus plug". Then comes the sleepless nights one after the other which results in tiresome days. Lets not forget about the fact that a person will be sucking fluid out of my breasts, leaving them saggy and unshapely. Then there is the few years of my association with poop, the smell, the shape and the different ways of cleaning it, and it is not my own!
My house as I know it will not exist any longer, the beautiful white couches, the glass table, the fabulous decorations will be no more. They will have to be replaced with baby furniture, ugly colorful things with wheels and pictures of animals. Elegance will have to take its leave and make room for germs and mess, things I can not stand. There will be toys every where, covered with spit!
My daily activities will include feeding, changing, watching cartoons and putting the baby down for naps in order to be able to take a shower, and possibly shave! If I am lucky I will lose the fat that came with the experience, but I will not have the time to take care of myself in any way, shape or form in which I used to. So I will be an ugly fat person covered in spit and poop. I will have to quit my job which will take away from my confidence, happiness and income. My only association with another adult human being will be through the television or other moms in the playground. Which brings me to the next change: The topics of my conversations will change. From the latest shoe styles to different types of diapers, from discussing the last episode of Sex & the City to why Barney is better than Sponge Bob Square Pants, and from what is going on in politics to what type of bib works best.
There will be no more going out at night with friends to restaurants and clubs with out worrying and having a time limit. There will be no more taking off and going to the gym as I please. There will be no more relaxing vacations for two or with a group of friends. There will be no more easy simple tasks such as going to a restaurant with out being in the receiving end of glares and dirty looks. There will be no more going out for drinks after work with coworkers. Shopping, coffee trips, bookstores, beach, pool, every thing will be jeopardized. No more freedom, no more peace, no more comfort. I will have to plan, schedule and prepare up to one week in advance for any activity, I will have to start getting ready 3 hours prior to going out. I will have to lug a stroller, diaper bag, toys and other things with me to any place I go. My group of friends will have to change to ones who have children as well in older to tolerate each other.
I will turn into a mini van driving chauffeur who takes a little person to every ridiculous class there is in order to give him the opportunity to chose, and confuse him more. Life as I know it will end and I will never, ever have the stress free life which I have now. The baby will drain my energy, my patience and my bank account.
Lets not forget that when the baby becomes an adolescent he will hate me for I will be a stupid old hag who embarrasses him. This will be followed by him leaving me as he grows up to only return for monthly visits by obligation.
Now they tell me when you look into your baby's eyes, when your baby smiles at you, when he falls asleep on your chest, then it makes it all worth while. They tell me that you will not care about the things you care about now when you have your baby. I have a hard time believing that and believe that this is yet another trick. This is what they tell you to reel you in and throw you down the same mess that they have been thrown in. It is very similar to when they never tell you the truth about hardships of marriage before you get married and they uncover it after you have jumped. It is all a trick, it is a scheme and I cannot fall for it. I refuse to believe that my life will be any less satisfying, meaningful, rewarding and fun with out kids. At least at this time in my life, I am so happy and grateful for my good night sleep, the peace of mind to sit here and write in my blog, and the option of buying a ticket and going to Vegas for the holidays with out having to give it a second thought!

Saturday, November 17, 2007


"I think that I would miss you even if I had never met you.", "You are my every thing and I am nothing with out you", "Life with out you means nothing to me", "No one will ever love you as much as I do and by being with me you will make me the happiest man in the world", "The joy that being with you brings to me is so much more than I have ever known", "You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, inside and outside", "I can not live a happy life with out you in it", "I know every curve of your face and every sparkle of your eye"...
The warmth and pleasure that these words bring to a woman is not measurable. These are the words that create tingles all over a woman's body, a rush of heat that fills her from head to toe, and brings flutter to her heart. It even manages to welcome a tear or two into her eyes. These are words that most women live to hear, wait for, long for, and dream of. Words that will make her give all of herself to the man who is presenting them to her, body and soul. Words that will make her weak in the knees and light in the heart.
Most women have heard these words spoken, said by men sincerely and lovingly. It has come from across the room through a little glowing box called television. Even though the words are not directed to them, yet it manages to still effect their body and mind by the rush of blood and the increased heart rate. However, all of these symptoms are followed by a number of alternate feelings. Feelings such as sadness, sorrow, hurt, and most of all, longing. Longing to hear these words spoken to them directly by a real live man. A man who is outside of that box in the flesh, warm and solid, sincere and in love with them. A man who truly means all that he confesses and will continue to always confess his love to her. She longs for the moment when he is looking so deep into her eyes with the least distance possible between their lips and the whispers of never ending, soul consuming, ever lasting love.
Yes, love, it is what women want, need, and desperately desire. They will commit to almost anything if they know that they will find the true love of their life. They will travel across the world, sacrifice friendships, over look family, and let go of their own individuality in order to reach the kind of love they believe really exists. The kind of love they see in movies.
In real life, how often have we seen a man chase a woman down a busy freeway on his motorcycle in order to stop her from leaving, like Mathew McConehy did? In real life, how often have we seen a man wait two years for a woman who he had never been with, as Keanu Reeves did? In real life, how often have we seen a man run in the snow across town to ask a woman to stay with him, as Dermot Melrhony did? In real life, how many times have we seen a man fly from NY to France to confess his love to a woman who had moved on, like Mr. Big did? Not often!
Even after these utterly romantic gestures, does any one ever think of what happens after the credits start to roll up on the screen? Is he going to continue to shower her with those lovely words? Will they live happily ever after or will he start to ask her to stop suffocating him and to leave him alone?
The damage that these movies present to women is severe. Women will believe that the dramatic and heroic love really does exist. Their hopes will be high and they will continue to search for the dream. It is sad when it only ends with disappointment, heart break, failure and sadness. He will not chase after you, he will not rehearse poetic words for you. And if by chance you are one of the lucky ones who finds a man who does act in such a way, know that it will end, he will stop. He will stop holding your hand, he will stop putting his hand on the small of your back, and he will stop cherishing your every move.
Just remember that it will not look like the way it does when it comes out of the shiny box right before the credits roll up!

Friday, November 16, 2007

The heart & the intellect

"The heart is wiser than the intellect". This is what was written as my daily horoscope. As I read on I could not help but to wonder if this saying is really true. When making a major decision in life, which should one go with, the heart or the mind?
Should I study Underwater Basket Knitting because I have a passion for it, or should I go to Medical School in order to make money and obtain status? Should I marry the guy with the job who will never cheat on me, or should I run away with the convict who makes my heart skip a beat? Should I take the stable job with the 401K or should I work in the African Jungle researching my interests? The decision must be made based on one question: Will I regret doing one as oppose to the other later? Because if any thing, we want to avoid the number one disaster in life: Regret!
It is the end of your life and you are thinking "I should have went for Underwater Basket Knitting, I would have been happier", "I should have settled and married the practical guy, I would not have gotten so hurt", "I should have gone to Africa, I would not have wasted my life being miserable", etc. There is no turning back the hands of time and you cannot go back and change a single thing. All you can do is regret your decision and wonder what it would have been like if you had taken the alternate road. Now that is painful!
So how do you know which road to take? Stay with your intellect and take the practical road or go with your heart and take the exciting way? How do you know which one will provide you with a happy life? You know! Deep down in your heart you know which road is the "right" road, being the intellect or the heart. It is your life, you know yourself, and therefore you know what road to take. No matter how much you may think that you are confused, if you take a long hard look at the equation, you will know. There is no straight answer between the heart and the intellect, because either one of them could be right in separate occasions.
Some may always take intellect's side, and some may always take the heart's side, but I am friends with both of them equally. I consult with them both and get their advise, and some times I do not even have to chose one and let the other go. Some times they go hand in hand.
Now I yet have to come to the end of my life to see how my decisions will turn out, but so far I think both intellect and heart have provided me with decent choices.
So no, I do not believe that the heart is wiser than the intellect, because if it was not for intellect I would have been a candy shop clerk married to one of the Nelson brothers.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007


I would like to document this day, November 13Th 2007, as a significant day in my life. I did something this morning that I never thought I would do. Something that will place me in a different category of people than where I sat before. I did something which simply means a complete change in my character, personality, and way of life.
The time was this morning at about 8:30 a.m., the place was in my car. I was on my way to the Starbucks drive through before work, for my Double Tall Vanilla Latte. I did it. I programed NPR into my car radio!
I had never listened to NPR before. I put it in the category of boring, dull, who cares?, and whatever! I was more of a Kube 93 or KIIS 102.7 type of person, jamming to the tune of hip hop and R&B. I do not care about what is going on in talk radio I would think. What happened you ask? I do not know! I do not know how I reached the place where I was this morning. Mind you that NPR's voice only lasted for about one minute in my car before my patience ran out and the channel was changed to "On Air With Ryan Seacrets" where I hear all about the celebrity sleaze and plastic surgeries gone bad. But the point is that the person who even thought about listening to NPR, the person who even knew what station NPR would be on was not me!
I have to say that this is not the first out of character change that has stirred up in me these days. I have noticed some major differences in the person I call "me". Unbelievable, unexplainable changes which I never expected to occur in my lifetime. These are not changes that others warn you to expect with age, such as wrinkles, gray hair, fatigue, decrease of brain functioning, etc. These are major personality changes. I will provide you with some example: I have lost my love of chocolate and my love of shopping!! With out these two I was nothing, nothing I tell you! But a recent wave of cravings of fruit over chocolate has left me baffled. The fact that I leave the mall with minimal amount of shopping or even none what so ever, leaves me confused. This is not "me"! Who is this person? This fruit eating, non-compulsive shopper, NPR listening person is as unfamiliar to me as is a 98 year old Chinese man.
If you are waiting for a conclusion in this piece rationalizing, explaining, and summarizing who this new person is, how I became her, and why this happened, you will not find it here. All I know is that I am turning into a person who is a stranger to me and I feel that my body is being posessed by a whole new person and I'm not sure if I like her or not.

Sunday, November 11, 2007

My favorite time of the year

As a person who was born into an Iranian family and was raised in a Muslim culture for the first 12 years of her life my next statement could come across as odd. Christmas is my favorite time of the year, as well as my all time favorite holiday. From the neighborhood light decorations to the music, from the liveliness of it all to the spirit that fills people's hearts, it all brings so much joy into my heart. These are all the things that I love and wait for all year. There is something about the aroma in the air that spreads cheer into every one's soul. It is the one time that people seem to be so happy, excited, and high spirited! This is the time when people let you take the extra parking spot, the time when others let you go in front of them in line. This is the time when bosses cut you some slack and the time when strangers smile and say hi to each other in the streets. The red, the green, and the gold, the beautiful decorations, the wonderful music that spreads goose bumps on my arms, and the old man with the long white beard, this time represents the word happy to me.
Yes, it is odd how this could be, when I never had a Christmas tree in my house, I never drank eggnog before, and how I never really believed in Santa! But I do share the spirit. The smell of chest nuts roasting on an open fire, the sight of mistletoe hanging on the ceiling, and the cookies and milk left on the table, it is not foreign to me.
I love the chilled air outside, fire burning hot inside, bundling up and playing in the snow, waiting for the day to come when you rise up to open gifts, and spending time with family and friends. I do, I love it, it makes me so happy! And I feel lucky to be able to celebrate holidays from two different cultures. I cant wait for Santa's arrival!!

Thursday, November 8, 2007

I will forget

By reading my Glamour Magazine, I learn very important information such as "101 ways to dress my body better" and "12 things no one ever tells me about sex". In September's issue between "Should I get rid of my period?" and "What the celebs are obsessed with now" I stumble across an article about women in Congo. I wonder what the style for their fall season is? But as I read on my heart is crushed and I cannot hold back the tears as they roll down my face for the women I have never met. As I read on I learn about the rapes that are committed in front of the woman's family, the tortures such as forcing the woman to eat her own feces, the destruction of the woman's soul by forcing her to have sex with her own brother and killing him for refusing to do so. I read about the stories so horrendous that it will haunt me for days to come, stories that crush the women's spirits in order to make the men feel satisfied, powerful, and dominant.
I could not help but to think about the "problems" that are stress factors in my daily life, and compare them with the problems women are faced with in countries like Congo.
I say "I have gained five pounds and I have to go on a diet", they say "I had to walk from morning to dust searching for a way to buy a banana for my baby". I say "I wish my husband was more romantic and lit a candle or two", the say "I was gang raped and left for dead". I say "I will go for laser hair removal because I am sick of shaving and waxing", they say "my soul died after my vagina was mutilated with guns and sticks". I say "please take your shoes off when you step on my white carpet", they say "please do not rip my stomach open and yank my baby out". The list of I say, they say can go on, and the question it presents is how can life be so unfair? How can I have such a privileged life where my concerns are exercising enough and getting the bigger office, when others have to worry about losing their dignity, spirits, children, and life?
The sad part is that for the moment that I read the article, maybe for a few hours later, and possibly for a few days after I will think about these women and their stories. I will compare my own life to theirs and try not to take what I have for granted. But eventually I will forget about these women, their pains, their sorrows and their stories as I become once again entangled with the routine of my own daily life and my own story. Eventually I will forget about the women of Congo and I will go on with my life, stressing over why husband walked two steps ahead of me. I will continue to travel the same path I was on and I will continue to call my little nothings problems, that is the way this world turns.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

The story of my nose

As I was sitting in the airplane looking out the window I shed the last tears ever shed for the loss of a certain part of my life. Later I would think of that exact moment as the start of a new chapter in my story book. The plane was still on the ground and I was leaving the country. I was alone and traveling to the other side of the earth. I had to go far and away in order to start fresh and to never look back. As soon as the plane accelerated on the runway my tears dried up and I never cried about that heartbreak ever again!
That summer I spent two months in my native country and that summer went into my book as the best summer of my life. It had been 7 years since my last visit to Iran, things had changed, and I had grown up! I traveled to many different parts of the country, I was reunited with my relatives, I visited with the friends who I had kept in touch with since elementary school, and I made new friends. Among all of those things there was one thing that I did which became a major decision/change/step/event in my life: I went under the knife and had a major surgery. It was called Rhynoplasty, or in simpler terms a "nose job"!
Growing up I never had a second thought about my nose, even after adolescence when the bone grew a little bump on top of the crown. It was a very small bump that never succeeded at bothering me. I definitely did not belong in the group of those who hated a feature on their face throughout their life and eagerly awaiting for the opportunity to alter it. When I was in Iran that summer I noticed all of the perfect noses, the bandages on many girls and boy's faces, and the fact that this procedure was so common. Yet, the thought of my own nose did not creep into my mind, It was never even considered. One day I found myself among a group of ladies who were deeply involved in a conversation about some one's nose surgery, and that is how it all started. Casually one of them looked at me and asked "Have you ever considered nose surgery"? I laughed and said "no". The second lady looked at me and said "I think it would suit you". I dismissed it at that moment, but a seed was planted in my mind which grew and grew to the point that two weeks later I was lying on the surgery bed. After that conversation I could not stop thinking about the idea. The amazing part was that I did not take much time to consider the idea and the very important decision was quick and with out ponder. The vedict was yes.
The first thing I needed was money, so I made a call to America. I explained the situation to my father and he said the sweetest thing to me. He said "We want you to be happy, so if you promise that when you come back home you will not see a certain some one any longer you may do this". With out hesitation I accepted since that was my plan. The money was given to me right away. Now I needed to find a surgeon. With some help from others and after 5 interviews I chose my surgeon and set the date. The date of the surgery was within two weeks of the planted seed!
I was driven to the doctor's office early in the morning. I did not experience any worry, anxiety, fear or doubt. I felt excited and ready. I had decided that I will stay awake during the procedure with only inducing numbness to the noted area. This way I will avoid the hospital. The way I did it was very similar to visiting the dentist but less painful. It was a regular office, a small and simple room with a single bed in the middle. I laid on the bed and was surrounded by the team: the surgeon, a nurse and an old man who was in charge of the numbness. They stuck an IV in my arm and laid a very thin cloth on my eyes where I could see the ceiling light through it. Then there it was, a shadow of a very large size needle, which penetrated twice on each side of my nose. That was the first and only severe pain that I felt until after the surgery.
During the procedure I had conversations with the team working on me, as I was laying on the bed. Meanwhile my face was ripped open and bloody. We talked about Googoosh, since that was the time she had just left Iran and was having her first concert in Canada. We talked about my major in school and whether I believed that the surgeon was "crazy" or not. I heard the crack of bone breaking, I heard the filing of the bone, I felt blood roll down my cheek and it being wiped off by the nurse, and I continued to swallow gulps of blood. At times when I felt uncomfortable, the old man would place his kind hand on my knee and stroke it; that simple act calmed me greatly. Within half an hour they were taking my hand and walking me to the next room. It was so fast that I mistakenly thought that they were taking a break and was worried about things falling out of my face when I stood. We were out of there within one hour!
The second and last time I experienced pain was in the car. During the time it took to drive from the doctor's office to the pharmacy the numbness wore off. The pain was so strong that I could not stop crying! My poor cousin was so panicked that he illegally parked the car (not too out of the ordinary in Iran) in front of the Pharmacy and ran back with those wonderful white pills and water for me within seconds. I was then very happy!
Back at the house every one was in shock to see me talk, smile, laugh, walk as if there never was a surgery. Seems that usually when patients go through this kind of surgery they are in bed for at least the first two days with swollen eyes and are not able to talk, let alone smile. During my recovery I had minimal marks on my face, and the discomfort was very low. I was able to enjoy my vacation to the fullest even with the bandages on my face.
One week later I was back at the doctor's office ready to take off the bandages. Yet again I did not feel any worry, anxiety, fear or doubt. Yet again I was excited and ready. The nose turned out perfect!
I came back home to America with a new nose, and as a new and improved person. Since I had been away for two months and my nose had not been a major disaster before, many people did not notice the change. When told, some were shocked as to why I did it and that it was not needed. Most provided me with great compliments. I could see the difference and I was happy. The difference was not only in how I looked, but it was in how I felt and what the change had done for me personally. It was a symbol of a new life, a new face who had thrown some trash away from her old life and was ready for the new chapter.
Later when I looked back at that time I realized that the entire process was not "normal". The way it started, the way I easily and quickly made this important decision and how easily it all fell into place. The lack of anxiety, nervousness or fear about the procedure and the results. The way my recovery was so easy and out of the ordinary. And how it actually turned out so perfect! It could have been because I was in a different world and in a different state of mind, or it could have been other forces. I came back to my life with a new energy and an improved attitude. Overall, that was one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life, physically and emotionally. I have a feeling that there was a reason why it all happened, which was out of my hands! I needed help to get over a hump in my story at that particular time, and a lending hand had been presented to me.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007


When I was very young I strongly believed in waiting until Marriage to have sex, very moral and no question about it. This strong belief stayed by my side for a long time, however as time passed it started becoming more flexible and taking different forms! Which brought me to the next phase. I believed in waiting for Love to have sex. I decided that it is OK to have sex with out marriage as long as both parties are in love with one another and plan to be committed to each other forever. More time went by and as with the rest of the things in life my belief adjusted with the passing days as well. This is when I decided that if two people are absolutely wholeheartedly in love with one another, but the relationship will not last, it is OK to have sex, due to the never ending love. Even if you may never see each other again, at least you shared that special act with one another. An act so romantic that you will cherish forever. Yes, unfortunately that phase passed as well and became dust in the wind. Time did it, not I!
My belief has morphed, adapted, molded into something so different now that if my very young self knew this about me she would be shocked, disappointed and embarrassed, taking me for a true sinner and a slut!
I believe that sex is so normal and natural that one should be able to have it any time, with whomever one chooses, with as many people as one desires, and as many times as one wishes. With out love, with out commitment, with out any expectation, with out ever being judged by others or oneself, with out guilt. One should have sex just for the fun of it, for the pleasure, for the high, for the rush!
Of course it must be noted that this only applies to those who are single, meaning not in a committed relationship, and not looking for one. And we will assume that by sex we are talking about SAFE sex.
Why is sex such a taboo topic and a hot "issue" in our society? For a great thing which provides us with so much pleasure to the body and mind (proven) it has been treated very unfairly. We have made sex into something dirty, perverted and wrong. Not true! sex is pretty, happy, and fun. Sex is a rush with out the drugs, sex in natural (as George Michael said). Sex should be like kissing, hugging, even shaking hands! If two people are single and find each other attractive there is absolutely nothing wrong with jumping into bed and enjoying each other with out any expectations. Sex could be placed in the same category as having a very rewarding conversation, playing a challenging games, and watching a great movie with a friend! We should not judge those who have this motto about sex. They are treating their bodies, just the way others treat their bodies with exercises or massages. Sex is very similar to the massages we all like to buy at the spas, it only consists of a minor difference but a major increase of pleasure! And no payment needed (hopefully).
Sex should be looked at the same way we look at sneezing, not a big deal. It is a natural part of human existence. Yes, it is technically meant for reproduction, and the reason for the pleasure is to force humans to reproduce. However, we have learned to manipulate that just like we have done with every other natural process in this world. So take advantage and get the pleasure with out the reproduction!
Now of course we have the group of people who become emotionally attached after sex. This particular belief does not work for this group, they should stick with one of my previous beliefs to save themselves and others major pain and discomfort.
We all know that in the primitive days this was how sex was treated, free and open. Sometimes we have to go back to our roots to learn how things really should be done. Our species even had sex with other's spouses back in the stone ages. Now I have not proceeded that far in my belief, however by observing my track record on this issue in time any thing is possible! (note to husband: do n0t worry, just kidding).
Sex. It is fabulous. Have it, enjoy it, make the best of it, especially when you are young. Make good use of those shapely bodies! Girls, have sex with hot younger men with six packs, do not let them go to waste. Guys, well I do not have to tell you. When you are single, you are being safe, and your emotions are in tact... have plenty of sex with many many people, I will not judge you! I promise!

Sunday, October 28, 2007

I went to Afghanistan

On Saturday I spent the day in Afghanistan, with Afghan women. I shed tears for their sorrows, their heartbreaks, and their tragic stories. I learned about the way they have lived and the unthinkable things they have been through. I went with them into their homes and saw what it looks like through their eyes. They took me to a journey of sadness, loss, and tragedy. They also showed me strength and hope. I walked the streets of war, saw decapitated bodies, cruel psychotic husbands, and a life so unfair there is no way out. I saw how the women of Afghanistan spend their days, how they spend their nights. I learned about the choices they faced, the tears they have shed. I spent the day in Afghanistan, with the women who have more honor than the rest of us!
I was eagerly waiting for Khaled Hosseini's second novel after I read his first one, the "Kite Runner". I bought "A Thousand Splendid Suns" as soon as it hit the shelves. The book was pretty thick and I am not a fast reader, therefore I figured that it will take me at least two weeks to read it. So I decided to wait until I am mentally ready and when I have the luxury of time. Plus, I was behind two months on my Glamour magazine which arrives every month. I would not want to start a new season not knowing what the "in" colors are for lipsticks and what 100 Men Secretly Think About During Sex! It was after seeing the trailer for the movie "Kite Runner" that I had the urge and felt mentally ready for the book; I wanted to know, take it in, and taste it. I guess it will not kill me to wait a bit longer before I learn about Tricks For Your Exact Hair Type! So I picked up the book and selected a book mark, knowing that I will use it often for it will take me a while to finish. I used the book mark exactly 4 times. That is how many times I put the book down. I finished it in a little over one day!
I could not bring myself to leave Afghanistan on Saturday, I was engaged, engrossed, and enmeshed with those people and those stories. When my friend called me at noon to set up a time to meet it had been 3 hours since I was sitting on the couch reading. I told her that I need a few hours to clean my patios that had a think black layer of ash on them from the fires, so lets get together at 6:00. I spent one hour on the patios, and hurriedly came back to the story of Mariam. I had to start getting ready at 5:00 but could not leave Laila and her tragedy. Called my friend and asked to postpone our meeting time. Just getting up and leaving with out knowing what Rasheed will do next was not an option. At 6:30 I had to leave, gathered all my strength and used the bookmark. But the thought of Laila and Mariam and Tariq did not leave me. I returned home at 1:30 a.m. a time when flossing goes out the window and my sole goal is to get into bed. But not this time, I had to see what Laila did next. Eventually I had to use the bookmark again when I could not keep my eyes open any longer. As soon as I opened my eyes the next morning they went back to work, reading the last two chapters and within half an hour tears were rolling down my face with no intention to stop. I even cried while reading the writer's acknowledgements!!
The book was heart wrenching, depressing, completely and utterly tragic. But, this writer is so brilliant I actually feel pleasure while reading his words of sorrow, death, and loss. Many times I had to stop because the tears were blocking my view to the words!
On Saturday night I was sitting in a hip lounge in Orange County drinking a Cosmopolitan with my girlfriend, wearing red lipstick and my new heels. But all I could think about was Mariam, Laila, Rasheed, Jalil, and Tariq. When we raised our two red cosmos to click together it came out of my mouth: "To the women of Afghanistan"! The look on my girlfriend's face was a Kodak moment! "Where the hell did that come from"? She'll understand after she reads the book I thought. We continued to drink, laugh, and talk about how cute Mark Wahlberg is that night. Once again my eyes had been opened to a world so tragic, so unfair, and so far, yet not to take action, but merely for entertainment!

Thursday, October 25, 2007

Size Discrimination

It is injustice and completely unfair. It is discrimination against a group of innocent people, the "petite". Nothing in this country (not sure about the world, therefore I will not make any accusations) is made for us. Every thing is made for bigger "average" size people and our size is over looked. Our life is immensely harder because we have to find ways to cope with the largeness (this is a word in my dictionary) in order to survive. There is absolutely no regard or consideration for the smaller size.
The portions of meals; is my 97 pound body expected to intake as much food as the 200 pound guy sitting at the next table? I have to pay as much as him for an entree. Forget about the money, what about all that food that goes to waste? And for once I do not want to take my left overs home with me damn it! The sizes of clothes; I have to add at least $20 to the price tags to include the alteration, because the pants are too long, the sleeves are too long, the waist is too wide, be it that the item even comes in an XS or 0. Forget about the money again, what about the time it takes and my delayed gratification on shopping? Every thing is too high to reach; I have two stools in my house, one upstairs, one downstairs, to help me reach for things on the shelves. Outside of my house, I always have to ask for help (I hate it)! The sun is always in my eyes when I drive because the visor does not come down enough to cover my eyes. When I took a surfing class, the surf board was so big and heavy that I could not carry it to the ocean, nor Paddle with my arms which could not reach the water properly on the sides. So I sat that one out. My feet are always dangling from chairs, stools, benches making me look retarded. The massage chairs never completely do the job for me since the pressure is happening above my shoulders! I always have trouble seeing the screen, stage, field, due to a head in front of me. I cannot ski properly because my size skies are not usually available. I have to buy shoes based on what is available in my size rather than one that catches my eye or one that is on sale. I will not even get started on how long it took me to find a bicycle that fit me which did not have pink flowers on it.
Nothing in this country is made to accommodate me. It is either child or adult. I do not fit in the adult size, I do not want the child size. Life is so hard as a "petite" person.
This is the reason why I drive a SUV and will continue to drive a SUV. I am always the shortest one looking up at people when on foot, I shall be one of the tall ones looking down at others while driving.
We need to bring awareness to this important issue and make some changes. We deserve to live as comfortably as the rest of our species. The world needs to be fair to all mankind be it 5 foot 10 or 5 foot period.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Those long red nails

Going to elementary school in Iran with a young, fresh, eager to learn mind, I did become brainwashed. Even though my parents at home had different views, I managed to believe every word the teachers thought me in the classroom. I believed in God, Mohammad, Ali, Hassan, Hossein, Zahra. I believed in praying 5 times a day, fasting once a year, the need to mourn for the dead prophets, and I believed that failing to do so will guarantee me a front row seat in hell. I believed it all. Being faced with my "un-supportive" parents at home I was not very successful with actually carrying out all the responsibilities I believed I must do.
I was in 4Th grade and my sister had come to Iran for a visit from America. It was her first visit back home and I did not know her very well. She must have been in her early 20's and to me she was so beautiful, sophisticated, smart and fascinating. I looked up to her. She smelled good and had these long beautiful crimson red nails.
In school we had to memorized the Quran. Pages and pages of words in Arabic which we did not understand. I was a good student and had it all down, I knew it by heart. But just to make sure not to make a fool out of myself in front of the class when I am standing by the chalk board reciting, I asked my sister to test me. So she took the book to read over while I would recite to her words that she would not understand either. The first thing I did was to remind her very seiously, "make sure you do not touch the words on this book, since you have not cleansed yourself (vuzu)"! I noticed her confusion, so I explained to her that it is a sin to touch the wholy words with your "unpure" hands. She looked at me with a smile on her face, and the next thing she did put me in shock. She took her white smooth hand with those long fingers and those beautiful red nails and put it on the page of the Quran and moved it back and forth from left to right. She said "like this"? I will never forget that moment, I was frozen with shock, awe, confusion, and fear! She continued on smiling and went back to trying to read the words, but I continued to wait for something to happen. I had never been so confused and scared. How could she do this? Doesnt she care? Honestly, I do not remember what happened after that. But I will never forget those long red nails going across the page and how I felt at that moment!

Monday, October 22, 2007


I watched the movie "The Kingdom" last weekend. After getting over nausea due to Michael Mann's filming style, I was then highly disturbed by the blood and gore. Later I was angered because I knew that every thing I was watching was true and actually happening. And finally at the end I ended up completely depressed as a result of the very powerful last 10 seconds. I left the movie theatre sad, depressed, angry, disgusted, and totally helpless. Great movie, loved it!!!! I would say that it is an eye opener but we all know that the only people who go to see these movies are the ones who are already informed and the ignorant ones are next door watching "Good luck Chuck". We, the "smart", "open minded", "educated" ones keep getting our eyes opened over and over. And since we continue to ignore it and keep from taking any sort of action nothing changes. So let the killings go on and we'll go to the theatres and have our eyes opened about it over and over again and again! Great entertainment!

How I spent my birthday this year

I woke up at 11:21 a.m. , got out of bed at 12:30 p.m. Purchased a greasy (=yummy) cheese burger with greasier fries and a coke from the Carl's Junior drive through for breakfast and scarfed it down at home on the couch. Watched the Seahawks game at 1:00-4:30 (they won, woohoo!). Felt a desire to be close to nature, so decided to go to the beach. Walked around Newport Beach and saw some people in heavy sweaters and some in bathing suits (how weird is that?). Decided to go on the pier to get a good view of the ocean, but was faced with fishermen pulling out dying fish from the ocean that were gasping for dear life! Was disgusted. Sat on the curb by the beach and decided to watch the sunset. The smog was so heavy that the sun set before it hit the horizon line (had never seen THAT before!?). Decided that I want crabs for dinner. Couldn't find parking at the restaurant that said "Crabs" on the windows, so kept on driving. Decided to go find a new joint to eat on PCH, missed the exit so kept on driving. Meanwhile, there is smoke in the air due to a fire some where. As we kept driving toward home, we notice that the smoke is getting heavier and heavier! Poor souls whoever has to be around that fire. Wait, it looks like we are driving toward the smokey area! hhmm, interesting... as we get closer it looks more and more like the heavy smoke is coming from exactly where we are going to, home! So the last 5 minutes to get to our house we hit every red light which gives us more time to think about all the things in our home and how we could live with out them. We finally arrive and our house is safe. However, there is fire across the street burning the hills, big heavy fast spreading flames! After we panic, take pictures, talk to a few people, we come home and eat Trader Joe's Sushi while watching our neighborhood on the news. I get an urge to clean the floors. Now I'm sweeping and mopping the floors in the house while there is fire burning outside. I continue with washing the dishes, watering the plants, etc. You would think that I was getting the house ready for the fire. Then I watch my favorite Sunday night show (Desperate Housewives), followed by our Tivoed Star Trek The Next Generation (Jean Luke was injured which took him back in time). I end the day by listening to the reporter on TV say that the residents of Southern California will remember October 21st as a sad day, I get offended. I go to bed with smoke in the air finding their way into my lungs, thinking about how I should clean the black ash off of my beige patio furniture.
Happy Happy Birthday to Meeeeee!

Thursday, October 18, 2007

I will run for a leg

J was born with two legs, but due to an ongoing physical problem one leg was amputated when she was a teenager. She recalls the day that her leg was amputated as the best day of her life because that meant that all the pain and suffering of her sickness, tests, and treatments would stop. J has a "walking" prosthetic leg now and is happy. She has a great sense of humor about it too, as she tells people that she lost the leg in her divorce settlement! But J cannot run, because it takes a special kind of leg for that activity, a "running prosthetic leg".
When M & I heard that J loves to be active and run, we asked her "what is stopping you from getting the running leg?" and she told us that it is because the "running leg" costs up to $30,000.00 and she cannot afford that. Since M, J, and I always laugh and joke together, we started joking about different ways for her to get the running leg. M is a runner and a cycler, she said "how about a marathon to raise money for the leg"?! At that moment the little glimmer of an idea was planted in us, even though J did not take it seriously. She thought that it was too vein of her to get money for a running leg when there are other people who cannot even afford a walking leg. Two days later M called me and said that she had planned to run the L.A. Marathon but felt that just running was not reason enough for her to do this. She wanted to do it for a cause, she wanted to do it for some one els instead of herself. She also knows some one who is informed about Marathons and sponsors that can help. How about if we actually go forward with this idea?! She really wants to help J! I felt a little hope inside me that this could actually happen! Can we actually do this? Can we actually be able to help? I've never done something like this before and am not sure how it works, but I can learn! I never run, but I can start to train, or I can walk! I know a lot of people who I can reach out to for donations, I want to do this! I want to help J! J's life is about helping people: during the day she works with homeless families that have children with mental health diagnoses to get their life back on track, and at night she reaches out to other homeless or underprivileged adults to give them a glimmer of hope. She is super nice, easy going, and outrageously funny! This girl deserves to get back from the world that she gives so much to every day.
When M told J about our idea J could not hold back her tears that kept on running down her face and was so grateful. But the next thing that came out of her mouth was that "then I can run with my running leg to help more people"! She also wants to donate 10% of the $ earned toward other people who do not have a leg!
I am so excited about this, I've helped people before but nothing this big. I've done "projects" before but nothing that I am passionate about which actually means something. I am going into this wholeheartedly and with high hopes. I really feel that I have the power, we will be able to raise enough money for a running leg. This will be life changing for J and I cannot think of any one els who deserves it more.
I will have to start training to be able to make the 26 miles, be it running or walking, so I do not collaps! And if you are reading this and I know you, you better start training too, because I will be harassing you about it!
Then the title of this story will change to "how she got her running leg"!

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

You are so fat!

The next time some one makes a comment about my weight I shall scream at them. I do not understand why random people feel that they have the right or are close enough to me to be able to comment on my weight??!!
There are only a few people in my life that have earned the right to have any thing to say about how I look and my weight. Those people are my "close" friends, immediate family, and my husband, that is it! Now why my mom's friends, some co-workers, or any other person not in this list feel comfortable to tell me that I look too skinny now, oh wait I've gained a bit too much, or now you are great try to keep yourself this weight, I do not get?! Do they not have anything better to do than to monitor my weight?
Do you go to a fat person that you are not very close to and say you are so fat? You have gained too much weight? You need to lose some pounds? I do not think so! The same rule needs to apply to every one els.
And forget about me ever bringing the subject up myself! I have learned my lesson to shut up about it on the days that I feel fat! Some days my pants actually are tight on me and I do feel like a lump of fat, but I never complain about it since the reaction I get is people getting mad at me because "how skinny I am". Believe me, that is not what I am looking for. Fine, I wont ask you for any consolation or understanding, but I am also not asking you about your opinion on how much I should gain and if I should keep this weight!

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

The Confused

There are three groups of people from Iran who have migrated and live in America. The first group consists of the ones who migrated to America during their late teens and later (17+). They were raised fully Iranian with Iranian beliefs, thoughts, ideas, ways, and traditions. We will call them Iranians. The second group consists of the people who migrated to America very young. They do not remember their birth country, adapt well to the country that they are raised in and are very similar to the natives. We will call them Americans. Then you have your third group which are the people who migrated in their early teens (11-16). We will call them the Amenians, or "The Confused"! And of course we have the "real" Americans who we live amongst, and that is what we'll call them. I consider myself as part of the third group. We are in no man's land, cannot relate fully to either Iranians or Americans, we do not feel that we fully belong to either group, we are the lost generation, we are Confused!!
The first 10-12 years of your life is the most crucial years since that is when a person gets their personality, beliefs and ideas. But you need a few more years for those beliefs and ways to take shape and mature. I was yanked out of Iran after completing 6Th grade and taken to America and thrown into 7Th grade Middle School, a completely different world! Every thing I knew and had learned in life was not going to apply any more, I was in unfamiliar territory and had to learn the new ways. So I did, I learned, I adapted and I adjusted. I had American friends through out Middle School and High School, yet I continued to consider myself Iranian because the Iranians that I knew were just like me. Until later in life I met the "real" Iranians! That is when I realized that I do not belong in that group any more. I do not understand half of what they are talking about, I cannot relate to them in any way, I do not feel one with them!
Us Amenians lack wholeness. We are not completely fluent in either the Farsi or the English Language, we have a slight underlying accent when speaking both. We do not share the childhood memories with the Americans who we live amongst and we do not share the teenage years our Iranian friends talk about. I was not raised with Star Wars nor did I go through studying for konkoor. I do not remember Saturday morning Cartoons, and I do not relate to going to darband with friends. I like "carbonated yogurt juice" which Americans find disgusting and I cannot stand del o jeegar which Iranians love. I do not like how most Americans are dry and simple, and I cannot stand how most Iranians are not genuine and lack honesty. There is no way I can play Charades with Iranians since I will not know what any thing they say means, and I probably will not have as much fun playing it with Americans. I cannot understand Hafez even though I can read it. I know all about American history, but do not have any emotions attached to it. I do not really celebrate Christmas even though it is my favorite holiday, I do not understand phrases like "voroodieh 74" or "kaf kardam"?? Us Amenians are confused because we are torn between family or individuality? virginity or freedom of choice? baghali polo or hamburger? Which group do we belong in? Neither.
What we get to do is chose the good from each group and throw away the bad and incorporate that into our lives. We have two cultures, two ways of life to pick from since we were never ingrained with one. Just like how I know by heart how to sing the United States National Anthem as well as Sorodeh Mellieh Iran, and they both give me goose bumps! That's pretty cool! I have two cultures. I decide to throw away tarof and keep the family values from the Iranian culture. I shall throw away the ignorance and keep the fairness from the American culture. I will take the fun loving spirit from the Iranians and the respect for other's choices from the Americans. I will return the cheating the system from the Iranians and give back the selfishness to Americans.
I guess I am more than whole with all of these choices and all of this knowledge from both cultures. Even though I may not be fully accepted in either one, I can lead a fuller life with both in me.

Monday, October 15, 2007

The last thing I remember...

The last thing I remember is that I was a student, I was a trainee, I was an entree level, I was a new comer, I worked any where that would hire me until I can get a "real" job. I tried to get away with things and slacked with coworkers. The last thing I remember is that I had big plans every Friday and Saturday night, comming home at 1:00 a.m. was a short night, I had all the new released CD's, I knew all the young artists and singers, I was popular, I had to be at the party. The last thing I remember I did not have any money, credit cards and student loans were my friends. The last thing I remember is that I was making plans for the future, looking forward to the years to come, not thinking of the now, temporary was a big part of my language and life, I had all the time in the world. The last thing I remember is that I was planning what kind of job I want to work at, what kind of house I want to live in, what kind of car I want to drive, and what kind of person I want to be. The last thing I remember is that I was single and waiting for love, but not looking, and the last thing on my mind was marriage! The last thing that I remember is that I was in my 20's!!
This morning I woke up and realized that I am a supervisor, a SUPERVISOR at a corporation! I have to catch the people who try to get away with things, I have to keep other people from slacking, this IS my "real" job. I realized that now I live in the house I wanted to live in, I drive the car I wanted to drive, but am I the person who I wanted and want to be?
Today I do not have plans every Friday and Saturday night, today when I go to a club all I can think about is going home, taking those heels off, getting into my sweats and drinking tea, TEA!!! Who is this person? Today I do not know those names on those new shiny CD's at the stores, I can not recognize the songs on the radio and I just am not able to match it to a memory. Today I can buy most any thing I want and not use a credit card! Really? Today I look down at my hand and I see a rock on my left ring finger, I call some one my HUSBAND!! Are you serious? Today I realized that I am living in the future! The future that I was making plans for, waiting for it to come, when did it get here? How did it get here? What happened? Who did I turn into? The person who I used to think has no life! the person that goes to work 9-5 and going to the movies is their Friday night out, who watches TV at night instead of being out with friends at a coffee shop or a bookstore. The person who rather spend their time with their family at home than going to a bar, the person who actually likes to cook! Is it really me? Do I really have my own plants now? I do! I have my own plants, I water them and they are alive! I get annoyed by loud drunk people, I turn the music down, I knit scarves, I serve jello as desert at my parties, I cant have more than two drinks. The friends that held my hair while I puked alcohol and would call me complaining about their exams are now Managers of companies, Pharmasists, and University Professors, PROFESSORS!!!! I am not in my 20's any more, I am a grown up! What? No way!! I do not remember how it happened? Maybe I am wrong, maybe it is not true, maybe I am dreaming! That's it, this is just a dream! I'm still a young student of life, I'm still learning and I still have things to look forward to! Right?