On My Own

It took me about 35 years, living in a foreign country, two major surgeries, a beautiful healthy child and a relatively happy family life to realize: I am very much on my own. 

It does make me wonder how people without family support, without a decent relationship, feel and how harsh that reality is slapped on their face. It is what it is. I think what pains me the most is not the harsh reality of being ultimately alone,  it is pretending otherwise. 

Now,  to go about it, accept it, work with it and make the best of it. 

All Uphill

When the road you are trudging seems all uphill.

We're the ones who draw the line

I woke up this morning from a night full of night terrors. I kept seeing that Aryanna was horribly  sick, I couldn't do anything to help her. Then I saw her little body somehow, in a way that makes no sense, was hanging on the hallway. I got up, tried to wake up Gabe crying in my half sleep/awake state. Thankfully he was tired enough that he looked at me confused and rolled back to sleep. I ran to the hallway with real tears, stood before her door, could hear everything was calm. I  took a deep breath and realized it was another night terror, one that repeated all night. The rest of the night I was tossing and turning and arguing with shadows in our room.

I know where this nightmares come from. I need to write about that in another post. I woke up sad and exhusted. As every morning checked my email and then the news. In the news there was a story about a young Australian man who was jogging outside her girlfriend's home in Oklahoma, he got shot and killed by three bored teenager, according to their own statement they were just bored. What a way to start your morning after such night. I read part of a very touching poem in that article. I looked it up, it is from the song posted below. This is one random blog post, I know. I will write more and more coherently soon. These  words none the least illustrate my current chaotic state of mind about life, health, religion, politics and future. For now, read this beautiful poem that fits my morning, my night, my last week and honestly all that has been lingering on the back of my head for the past few years.

"Everyday Glory"

In the house where nobody laughs
And nobody sleeps
In the house where love lies dying
And the shadows creep
A little girl hides shaking
With her hands on her ears
Pushing back the tears
'Til the pain disappears

Mama says some ugly words
Daddy pounds the wall
They can fight about their little girl later
Right now they don't care at all

No matter what they say...
No matter what they say...
No matter what they say...
No matter what they say...

Everyday people
Everyday shame
Everyday promise shot down in flames
Everyday sunrise
Another everyday story
Rise from the ashes and blaze
In everyday glory

In the city where nobody smiles
And nobody dreams
In the city where desperation
Drives the bored to extremes
Just one spark of decency
Against a starless night
One glow of hope and dignity
A child can follow the light

No matter what they say...
No matter what they say...
No matter what they say...
No matter what they say...

Everyday people
Everyday shame
Everyday promise shot down in flames
Everyday sunrise
Another everyday story
Rise from the ashes and blaze
In everyday glory

If the future's looking dark
We're the ones who have to shine
If there's no one in control
We're the ones who draw the line
Though we live in trying times
We're the ones who have to try
Though we know that time has wings
We're the ones who have to fly...

from a song called Everyday Glory, written by Neil Peart

It is the same everywhere

Meet most people in the middle and let's do something, or stay where you are, extreme of either left or right and keep yelling to be heard. At some point you will loose your voice, then you have to get closer to us. We will still welcome you. We have been waiting for a while.

It is dark out.

It was dark out. It would have been quiet if not for the occasional car passing by the road across the lake outside, and the small cricket complaining of his loneliness. Inside, by the window, sheltered from the dark, she was sitting on the coach reading in the little light the lamp beside her offered. The night had barely began, two pages into her book, her mind was wandering off to the fixations of her day. There were too much to think about, to worry for, to accomplish and the pages of her book were loosing the fight. She closed her eyes as I listened for any sound,  the quite sound of a door closing perhaps. His fingers reached for mine.

 The room is silent,  no sound from the road, or the lake, or the cricket. The night has only begun.

There is none.

One exhausting week after another. Life is great and I used to hate sarcasm and be hopeful.

Not Tonight

I will think about it tomorrow.
I will think about everything tomorrow but not tonight.

Rain, rain and some more rain

Spring is nice, but we have been having spring showers since early winter. All this green comes with a price: long gloomy rainy days. I now know I could not live in London.

Nowrouz 1392, Spring Equinox 2013.

Happy Nowrouz and first day of spring.

First day of spring is our new year, Iranian new year. We celebrate the first moments and the first days of spring as the nature is born again and earth goes green.

Around this time of the year I miss home more than usual. In Iran, everyone is busy and excited in preparation for the new year. It is like Christmas, but is not about religion. It is about celebrating renewal of nature and all that is good in the world, leaving negativity, illness and all that is bad behind. 

Matt, a very good friend, said to me a few days ago, " The Korean new year brought me blessings, and I hope you're just as blessed (or more so!) in the Iranian new year!" I hope he is right. I want to believe he is right and not just for me. I hope the new Iranian year brings prosperity, health and happiness to everyone in the world, including my people. Iranians can use a good year. They deserve a change for better, happiness and above all hope. 

Here is  to hope and new beginnings!

"Help! Help!"

That is a new phrase Aryanna uses frequently. If she wants you to open a bottle cap or give her a book she cant reach, she genuinely says, "help! help!" She says it with a very urgent tone and makes sure you know she means it. She doesn't think for a second if she is being appropriate or not. She simply needs help and doesn't care about any possible consiquesnces. Of course as a two year old she is on her way of learning about consequences like the rest of us, but her immediate honest expression of emotions makes me think how would life be being like her, with less convictions?
It is almost 6 months after my brain surgery and my vision is back to normal finally. I began looking for jobs in Jan. I love what I do, looking for jobs is not fun though. Especially if you feel that you don't know the codes, dos and don'ts. I applied for a Video Editor position. I received a phone call the same day I applied. I had the chance to talk to this very nice man who later I learned is the president of the company. I think the conversation went well. Learning more about the position, I got even more excited about the possibility of getting that job.
Now it is two weeks later, I noticed 85 people have applied for the same job! I wish there was a way I could tell the guy whom I had the phone interview with, how much I wanted the job and that I am confident I will be a great asset to his company.  I wish I  could say:  'Help! Help!' I really want this job, I will be good at it  and you will not regret hiring me." After the official cover letters and follow up notes, I wish I could make one different pitch to him; one as bold and as honest as my daughter's "Help! Help!"

Mirror's Dream

I  see you coming into the room; in a floral skirt whose flowers fall down with each swirl. Along with the wave of your dark hair floating in the air, you stop in front of the mirror. Dipping your hand into the darkness of the waives, your pale fingers play around in your hair. You close your eyes and it feels that it is my tanned hand that plays with your dark hairs; my fingers play and play and play with your hair until they accomplish a sweet feminine serenity covering the dreams in your eyes.
Through the curls of the eyelashes, you look at me, I think. And I think my body shivers from the dept of those eyes.
You close your eyes and I am ready to sleep. Beautiful is this half slept face.

You open your eyes: above the mirage of those dark eyes in the mirror, you stare at us.
When your pale fingers leave the dark hairs, I am gone.

The ring of the new silver phone rings and rings in and out of your head.
Someone, maybe me, is calling your name from the dept of a mirror's dream.

You turn to the phone and I know that you wish that it be me.

Edited on Feb14th2013