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.
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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.
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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...".
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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.
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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.
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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!
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Good times, good times...
Monday, December 17, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
"Khoobeh"
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.
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!
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
Love
"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!
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.
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
Stranger
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.
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!!
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!!
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