12 February, 2010
11 February, 2010
blood bank
we need to appreciate life a little bit more. who knows? one day you may be walking in the mall, browsing the new spring collections when all of a sudden, you have a heart attack. and your life will pass by before your eyes and you'll be forced to question everything you would have done if....you should have done but....you could have done instead of...
these days, we have very few certainties, and while we are conscious of this fact, we do very little to make up for it. instead we check our watches and say, "maybe tomorrow."
what about today?
these days, we have very few certainties, and while we are conscious of this fact, we do very little to make up for it. instead we check our watches and say, "maybe tomorrow."
what about today?
10 February, 2010
Free Villy
My parents got a divorce when I was five (I think) which made Salma three. We were so young, I don't think we really understood what was going on. Plus, our parents handled it so well and made the transition so...unnoticeable, that really, it never became an issue for us. We weren't those kids who had to suffer through divorce drama and get messed up in the head because of all the strife their parents put them through. No no. None of that for us. It was good.
When my dad moved out, he got a townhouse near a park called, "Garden of the Gods." The rocks are red and beautiful, and from a distance it looks majestic. Truly a garden for the gods. The townhouse was nice and spacious. Two levels. The first level, the master bedroom, bathroom, a random living room type thing, and the kitchen. The lower level, a huge room we called the living room, and an extra bedroom.
The bedroom was intended for us, Salma and I, to sleep whenever we went over to our dad's house. But, we never made through the nights in that bedroom. Sometime during the night, we would wake up, go upstairs into our dad's bedroom, and sleep there. So after a couple months, I think the bedroom downstairs sort of became a storage room for random things my dad never used.
I don't remember if our mom dropped us off at our dad's house, or if my dad picked us up. I mean, most of the time Baba was at our house anyway, so I'm pretty sure he would just take us over there. The first weekend he lived there we went and bought him a HUGE television, one of those huge screens, you know? And Salma and I just thought it was the coolest television set. He didn't have a lot of furniture. A futon couch thing, a yellow chair, a little table that sat close to the floor. I close my eyes now and I can see the way the room was shaped. The window at the end, overlooking the park with the white sand. Right? Or am I confusing it with our other house?
After a while, we had ritualized the nights we spent over at dad's place. We would go over to his house, and he would either make REALLY spicy spaghetti with salad shirazi, chicken noodle soup, or sometimes he would make rice and...chicken? Only his rice was always too salty, or a little burnt. So, our favorite became the spaghetti. He would put so much pepper into it, and we would struggle our way through each plate, but it was sooooo delicious. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
We would sit at the little table on the lower level, by the television set and watch tv while we ate dinner. Our movie selection was as follows:
--Indian in the Attic
--Free Willy
--It Takes Two
My dad also had "Pulp Fiction", which we weren't allowed to watch EVER. Even though I was always curious because Uma Thurman looks so scandalous on the cover. And he also had, "Sports Illustrated:Swimsuit Edition 1992"...or something like that. Salma and I would always look at the cover and start giggling as we hid it beneath all the other movies so that my dad wouldn't know we were looking at it.
Most of the time, we watched "It Takes Two." Or "Indian in the Attic." Those were our two favorites. But the nights we watched, "Free Willy," maannnn afterwards, we couldn't get Salma to shut up. BECAUSE:
At the end of "Free Willy," there was this advertisement for dolphin adoptions. And it would give a bunch of information on how to adopt dolphins, and it was always Salma's DREAM to be able to adopt a dolphin, only you had to be 18 years old. But Salma was OBSESSED (this was pre-Selena, so she still wasn't asking why Selena had to die)*. Each time she would meet someone who was 18 years old or older, Salma would say, "OH. DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN ADOPT A DOLPHIN?" And the kids would go, "uhhhhh....noo.."
But Salma would get so excited. Because they could realize the dream that she couldn't. For them, it was possible. She would ALWAYS talk about how she couldn't wait until she turned 18 so that she could adopt one. The funny thing is, I don't even know why, because it's not like Salma was particularly interested in dolphins, or showed any interest in underwater creatures in general. In fact, she didn't even like "Free Willy" that much. BUT, this dolphin thing stuck.
When I turned 18, the first thing she said to me was, "Oh, Ran, now you can adopt a dolphin." And yet, when she turned 18 herself, she didn't adopt one? Por que, Salmanca?
Why didn't we? I don't know. Never really thought we could do it anymore.
Except tonight, ladies and gentlemen, Salma found the link to a website offering to let us adopt a dolphin. It's only 25 dollars, and we can be the proud adopted parents of one dolphin. So I think tomorrow we're going to do that. Yes. I think tomorrow we are going to adopt a dolphin.
Why? BECAUSE WE'RE 18 AND DID YOU KNOW THAT WHEN YOU'RE 18 YOU CAN ADOPT A DOLPHIN?
Get on it, folks.
*I may have mentioned it before, but when Salma watched "Selena" for the first time, it really affected her life in a really negative way. She would go around asking people, "But why did Yolanda have to kill Selena?" And my mother would curse my dad for letting us watch the movie at such a young age. Salma would ALWAYS sing the Selena songs, and when the rest of us tried to sing (rest of us=me) she would scream, "BUT I AM SELENA!" She would literally have nightmares and wake up because she was so tormented by Yolanda killing Selena after being so nice to her. Bichareh, woor woor.
When my dad moved out, he got a townhouse near a park called, "Garden of the Gods." The rocks are red and beautiful, and from a distance it looks majestic. Truly a garden for the gods. The townhouse was nice and spacious. Two levels. The first level, the master bedroom, bathroom, a random living room type thing, and the kitchen. The lower level, a huge room we called the living room, and an extra bedroom.
The bedroom was intended for us, Salma and I, to sleep whenever we went over to our dad's house. But, we never made through the nights in that bedroom. Sometime during the night, we would wake up, go upstairs into our dad's bedroom, and sleep there. So after a couple months, I think the bedroom downstairs sort of became a storage room for random things my dad never used.
I don't remember if our mom dropped us off at our dad's house, or if my dad picked us up. I mean, most of the time Baba was at our house anyway, so I'm pretty sure he would just take us over there. The first weekend he lived there we went and bought him a HUGE television, one of those huge screens, you know? And Salma and I just thought it was the coolest television set. He didn't have a lot of furniture. A futon couch thing, a yellow chair, a little table that sat close to the floor. I close my eyes now and I can see the way the room was shaped. The window at the end, overlooking the park with the white sand. Right? Or am I confusing it with our other house?
After a while, we had ritualized the nights we spent over at dad's place. We would go over to his house, and he would either make REALLY spicy spaghetti with salad shirazi, chicken noodle soup, or sometimes he would make rice and...chicken? Only his rice was always too salty, or a little burnt. So, our favorite became the spaghetti. He would put so much pepper into it, and we would struggle our way through each plate, but it was sooooo delicious. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
We would sit at the little table on the lower level, by the television set and watch tv while we ate dinner. Our movie selection was as follows:
--Indian in the Attic
--Free Willy
--It Takes Two
My dad also had "Pulp Fiction", which we weren't allowed to watch EVER. Even though I was always curious because Uma Thurman looks so scandalous on the cover. And he also had, "Sports Illustrated:Swimsuit Edition 1992"...or something like that. Salma and I would always look at the cover and start giggling as we hid it beneath all the other movies so that my dad wouldn't know we were looking at it.
Most of the time, we watched "It Takes Two." Or "Indian in the Attic." Those were our two favorites. But the nights we watched, "Free Willy," maannnn afterwards, we couldn't get Salma to shut up. BECAUSE:
At the end of "Free Willy," there was this advertisement for dolphin adoptions. And it would give a bunch of information on how to adopt dolphins, and it was always Salma's DREAM to be able to adopt a dolphin, only you had to be 18 years old. But Salma was OBSESSED (this was pre-Selena, so she still wasn't asking why Selena had to die)*. Each time she would meet someone who was 18 years old or older, Salma would say, "OH. DID YOU KNOW YOU CAN ADOPT A DOLPHIN?" And the kids would go, "uhhhhh....noo.."
But Salma would get so excited. Because they could realize the dream that she couldn't. For them, it was possible. She would ALWAYS talk about how she couldn't wait until she turned 18 so that she could adopt one. The funny thing is, I don't even know why, because it's not like Salma was particularly interested in dolphins, or showed any interest in underwater creatures in general. In fact, she didn't even like "Free Willy" that much. BUT, this dolphin thing stuck.
When I turned 18, the first thing she said to me was, "Oh, Ran, now you can adopt a dolphin." And yet, when she turned 18 herself, she didn't adopt one? Por que, Salmanca?
Why didn't we? I don't know. Never really thought we could do it anymore.
Except tonight, ladies and gentlemen, Salma found the link to a website offering to let us adopt a dolphin. It's only 25 dollars, and we can be the proud adopted parents of one dolphin. So I think tomorrow we're going to do that. Yes. I think tomorrow we are going to adopt a dolphin.
Why? BECAUSE WE'RE 18 AND DID YOU KNOW THAT WHEN YOU'RE 18 YOU CAN ADOPT A DOLPHIN?
Get on it, folks.
*I may have mentioned it before, but when Salma watched "Selena" for the first time, it really affected her life in a really negative way. She would go around asking people, "But why did Yolanda have to kill Selena?" And my mother would curse my dad for letting us watch the movie at such a young age. Salma would ALWAYS sing the Selena songs, and when the rest of us tried to sing (rest of us=me) she would scream, "BUT I AM SELENA!" She would literally have nightmares and wake up because she was so tormented by Yolanda killing Selena after being so nice to her. Bichareh, woor woor.
09 February, 2010
08 February, 2010
For Yasna, forever ago.
i hope that when you read this, you've woken up from a deep and restful slumber. that you feel refreshed and happy, and ready to take on the new day. i'm sorry that when you went to bed you weren't feeling great, and im sorry that i couldn't be there.
remember i tried making you laugh by telling you the little stories about paris? sometimes when im upset its what i do to make myself feel better. i tell myself stories of things that happened in paris, be they completely stupid and small. they always make me feel better.
sometimes i go over in my head, the first day of class when we walked into madame amsellem's room and she was talking to you for some odd reason, and i thought, oh she must be a great student if madame amsellem is just talking to her in french like that. and i was sort of scared to come and talk to you because i thought, shoot, her french is going to be at this intensely great level, and im going to stutter and sputter. because engar na engar you were iranian, or spoke english or anything, whhaatttt?
and sometimes i think about when we went to all the asian grocery stores to buy a rice cooker because your aunt was coming into town and she would get so angry if you didn't have a rice cooker. only, she only gave you 20 euros, so we couldn't buy one. because randomly rice cookers are expensive? and i didn't know anything about your family back then. i didn't know that guilda probably wouldnt get so angry if you didnt buy a rice cooker. to me, it was so important to find one. remember thats when we decided to get the class together for a party?
and then there are days that i think about the halloween party. how everyone was so timid, and charlotte freaked out about getting to my house so early. except back then we hadnt come up with charlotte. remember that night, by the way? we were "paralyzed." and at the halloween party i thought, this girl thinks she knows everything. but i got really worried that i had offended you when you stomped outside to smoke your cigarette.
i even think about those days in november when i was cold and sick, and you would call me to ask me to go out, and i would say no its too cold. until finally you would force me to come out with you guys, and even those nights i had fun. with marrcooo and edward. remember edward?
remember we used to pretend we were from adelaide and have long conversations walking from madame amsellem's class through jardin de luxembourg to phonetics about living in adelaide. how our families were powerful. and edward would just play along all the time. because he was great. remember that?
and of course, after christmas vacation the memories become more defined in my head. the protest, holding that girls hand out of complete fear, you calming me down, telling me we werent going to die.
remember charlotte's birthday at social club? when she fell down on the floor and yelled, "YOU GUYS ARE MY BEST FRIENDS!"
going to the moose for the first time with marion, arash, thom, thomas, charlotte, sarah, you and me. arash rapping for us. remember that corner we used to stand? why away from everyone? and you started rapping the "country rap" from that one cartoon? the moose. remember the moose, yasna?
"Why do ya'll always want to go to the moose?" because we ALWAYS had fun there.
Thom's party. You dancing with that guy in your orange jacket and the hat. All of a sudden, I stop talking to Arash, look up, and see Yasna getting lifted up by this male model and thrown around.
Marion moving in. Us living together. Drinking the disgusting clementine margaritas that only you finished. Blowing up the inflatable mattress. Remember that night I gave you guys my keys, and went to the grocery store. You guys had to beep me back into my apartment, and when I walked in, Marion was in the bathroom straightening her hair and putting on makeup, and you were ghashang ghashang sitting at the desk, eating a clementine? watching pushing daisies with your legs on the desk. I couldnt stop laughing, but internally I was at complete peace because I was so happy that you guys were there and that I had found a family.
When Marion moved out. That was sort of sad, remember? You, Char, me, going up the metro, down the metro, up the stairs, down the stairs, a million times. Remember we didn't take line 14 so we had to make 8 million stops. And finally we got there and Marion was so thankful that we had brought her all of the suitcases? Only she didn't know Charlotte that well, yet...she was embarrassed. Remember?
The Micho Doll, making it, writing down all of our ideas while we stood in front of Starbucks, waiting for the bus for 25 minutes. And going home and finding those paper stacks and making the doll. We were so proud of our handy work. All that tape, all that paper. And taking it into the metro. I was so proud that we had made such nice art. Taking it to the bridge. Everyone else was so embarrassed. Me playing the music, while you made the speech. Drinking champagne at noon. It wasnt real life, Yasna. We lived a fantasy life, didn't we?
Walking to Cafe Parvis every single day. Self service. AGHA WE KNOW. Remember the Iranian couple? And we pretended to call my mom and you talked to her in Farsi just to get a reaction. Only how embarrassing was it when my mom actually called? And then you would walk me to yoga, go to my house, wait for me to come home, and then we'd go out with everyone. That was so nice of you to walk me there everyday. Especially when you didn't even have school yourself. Remember how wonderful it was when you didn't have to go to work anymore? Cus then we didn't have to separate at 3 in the afternoon, even though you started working at 5...it will always be a mystery to me why you had to leave so early those days.
Those weeks leading up to when you left. Getting strep throat (not as bad as yours in Roskilde, but still, pretty bad. I sort of wish you would have looked down my throat to see if it was like yours, but whatever, next time, right?). Your "suprise" party. Too bad the Danish girl totally gave it away. "I'm going to try to come to your party?"
"My party?"
"shhhhhhhh..."
"What?"
"Welll, it was sort of supposed to be a surprise."
I don't want to get into when you left. That was hard. I'll keep it at the good stuff, the light stuff. Us rolling the suitcases down the metro, Sara was having so much fun. Remember? "You're not my best friend in Paris, you're my best friend in the world."
Remember all of that Yasna? Paris? Sometimes I think, Ranna you think about it too much, let it go. But then when think that, I get scared that one of the memories I have might disappear, so I relive it in my head, over and over. It's like this amazing story that I want to remember to tell my kids. It was so surreal and amazing that I can't believe that it actually happened. But I'm really glad it did, because sometimes, when you're upset, I can whip these stories out in hopes that they may make you feel better.
So....cafe parvis, tomorrow? Come get me from class, we'll walk down together. Down Saint Michel, over the Seine, past that weird golden statue I never figured out, past the place you bought your cigarette, through the street you always questioned, "are you sure we're going the right way?" and across from the Centre Pompidou.
I love you.
Ranna
06 February, 2010
To you.
We're not burdened by the same pressures of our parents and grandparents--we have time to mold our lives into the perfect picture, into what we want it to be, without having to worry about how it is supposed to be.
Don't settle for mediocrity. Think about what you're doing and examine all of your options. You are able to do so much, don't throw it all away and regret your decision once it is too late. Think about all the things in this world that are so much better.
I know that you think that he is "the one." I know you think that no one else will love you like he loves you. And I know that this scares you. I know that you want MORE but you're scared to go and look for it. Don't be scared. Please don't be scared. It's there. It's right there. You have to be open to it. You have to stand and wait with your arms spread out and your eyes closed and when you least expect it, it will HIT you. BAM!
And then you will know that it is right. Then you will know that it was what was always missing. What you were terrified you would never find. But there it is.
Don't let that opportunity go. Please. I can't sit here and watch you turn into a prune.
05 February, 2010
One Word Answers (the product of cabin fever? perhaps)
First thing that comes to your mind:
Your Cell Phone: Red
Your Hair: Curly
Your Mother: Sleeping
Your Father: Vacation
Your Favorite Food: Eggplant
Your Dream Last Night: Long
Your Favorite Drink: Cold
Your Dream/Goal: Happy
What room are you in?: Bedroom
Your Hobby: Drawing
Your Fear: VOMIT
Where do you see yourself in six years?: Elsewhere
Where were you last night?: Bed
Something that you aren't: Ready
Muffins?: Blueberry
Wish List Item: Laptop
Where did you grow up?: Neverneverland
Last thing you did: Address
What are you wearing?: Pajamas
Your TV: Overused
Your Pets: MEAN
Friends: Distant
Your Life: Beginning
Your Mood: Meh
Missing Someone: Always
Vehicle: Unnecessary!
Something you aren't wearing: Bra
Your Favorite Store: Amazon.com
Your Favorite Color: Black
When was the last time you laughed?: Tonight
Last time you cried?: Monday
Your Best Friend: Laughter
One place you go to over and over again: Starbucks
Facebook: Addict
Favorite Place to Eat: HOME
Your Cell Phone: Red
Your Hair: Curly
Your Mother: Sleeping
Your Father: Vacation
Your Favorite Food: Eggplant
Your Dream Last Night: Long
Your Favorite Drink: Cold
Your Dream/Goal: Happy
What room are you in?: Bedroom
Your Hobby: Drawing
Your Fear: VOMIT
Where do you see yourself in six years?: Elsewhere
Where were you last night?: Bed
Something that you aren't: Ready
Muffins?: Blueberry
Wish List Item: Laptop
Where did you grow up?: Neverneverland
Last thing you did: Address
What are you wearing?: Pajamas
Your TV: Overused
Your Pets: MEAN
Friends: Distant
Your Life: Beginning
Your Mood: Meh
Missing Someone: Always
Vehicle: Unnecessary!
Something you aren't wearing: Bra
Your Favorite Store: Amazon.com
Your Favorite Color: Black
When was the last time you laughed?: Tonight
Last time you cried?: Monday
Your Best Friend: Laughter
One place you go to over and over again: Starbucks
Facebook: Addict
Favorite Place to Eat: HOME
03 February, 2010
f-ing dominique*
A recent conversation between me and my laptop:
Computer, what is your problem? Why are you dying?
Because you have treated me badly.
I've treated you badly??? What have I EVER done to you?
You really want me to tell you?
Apart from spilling olive oil and lemon juice on you ONCE you've been cared for.**
Ranna, you've lugged me around to school every year for the last four years. You throw me around, I've traveled from country to country, been slammed around. You've overloaded me with documents, pictures and unnecessary programs. I can't take it anymore. I'm old. I'm ready to retire.
But...But...with all your imperfections I STILL LOVE YOU!
I love you too. But I'm done. I'm spent. I'm through.
Computer, don't leave meeeeeeeeeeee. Computer, where you goingggggggggg???
Crash.
It's gone. It's really gone. Come on. Come back!!! I NEED YOU! I NEED YOU!! COMPUTTERRRRRRRRRRRR.
Silence.
*Dominique is a girl that Yasna knows in Florence. I don't know Dominique. Bichareh might be a nice person, but my two most commonly used expressions these days are, "Oh Dominique," or "F-ing Dominique." Don't ask me why but every time something happens, out of exasperation, it's the first thing that slips out of my mouth.
**If you read my other blog, "Les Reveries d'une Flaneuse," I have a post under October 2008 or something describing the situation with the salad dressing and the CLA VI ER (keyboard)
Computer, what is your problem? Why are you dying?
Because you have treated me badly.
I've treated you badly??? What have I EVER done to you?
You really want me to tell you?
Apart from spilling olive oil and lemon juice on you ONCE you've been cared for.**
Ranna, you've lugged me around to school every year for the last four years. You throw me around, I've traveled from country to country, been slammed around. You've overloaded me with documents, pictures and unnecessary programs. I can't take it anymore. I'm old. I'm ready to retire.
But...But...with all your imperfections I STILL LOVE YOU!
I love you too. But I'm done. I'm spent. I'm through.
Computer, don't leave meeeeeeeeeeee. Computer, where you goingggggggggg???
Crash.
It's gone. It's really gone. Come on. Come back!!! I NEED YOU! I NEED YOU!! COMPUTTERRRRRRRRRRRR.
Silence.
*Dominique is a girl that Yasna knows in Florence. I don't know Dominique. Bichareh might be a nice person, but my two most commonly used expressions these days are, "Oh Dominique," or "F-ing Dominique." Don't ask me why but every time something happens, out of exasperation, it's the first thing that slips out of my mouth.
**If you read my other blog, "Les Reveries d'une Flaneuse," I have a post under October 2008 or something describing the situation with the salad dressing and the CLA VI ER (keyboard)
02 February, 2010
these boots were made for fallin'
I've taken to not checking what the weather is going to be like and dressing for all sorts of occasions. Sometimes, it doesn't work out. Like when I wear a sweater and Uggs and it's warm out so I spend the entire day sweating. Or like the other day when I just put on a tshirt and a light jacket and it was like the COLDEST DAY OF THE YEAR.
I don't check the weather because I find that they never seem to calculate correctly and we end up experiencing completely different weather than was originally forecasted. So, I just like to make very clear assertions. For instance, when it's raining, I go, "It's raining." Or when it's snowing I'll say, "It's snowing."
The only time I will EVER forecast the weather is when the sky is red at night. Red sky=snow. It's a fact.
So today, I was like, "I'm going to look like a human being and actually wear suitable clothing." This included my favorite pair of brown boots. My Paris boots. The boots I refuse to ever give away. I'm just waiting for something to happen to them so that I can take them to a shoe repairman and say, "FIX THEM NOW!!!!"
But there's a problem with these boots. Yes there is. They have absolutely NO traction. None whatsoever. So the moment it gets a little wet or something, I slip and slide alllll over the place. In Paris, I fell like 347 times while wearing them. For instance, on Thanksgiving last year, I fell down and I couldn't leave my house because my knee was so swollen. That is not something to be thankful for (dont end sentences with prepositions).
Today, of course, was no exception. Of course. Just my luck, right? I put on the shoes, left the house and everything was fine.
And then God said, "LET IT SNOW." And snow it did.
I had to go to class right when it was starting, and the entire time, all I could think was, "Oh man, oh man. I'm going to go outside, fall, hurt my butt, and THEN what am I going to do?" I was just sitting and waiting for the moment of doom to arrive.
When class was finally over, the sun had gone down, and it was sort of really snowing. I started to make my way to the car, but I decided to be very strategic about the way I was doing things.
I realized that if I put the heel of my shoe down before the rest, then it would lower my chances of falling, and if i distributed my weight, so that I was leaning forward a little bit that would also lower my chances.
So there I was, inching my way to my car, heel, toe, heel toe, heel toe, lean forward, lean forward, ok take it easy, just a little bit more. I was SO concentrated.
Then all of a sudden this girl from my class catches up to me. Now this gal, I don't know her name or anything about her, but she seems REALLY cool. She's someone who I want to become friends with, but like, we sit on opposite ends of the room, but she always says really funny things during class. We've only talked a couple times. Her celebrity lookalike would be the girl from Twilight. The main one.
She catches up to me and goes, "Hey are you alright?"
And I'm all, "Yeah, I just don't want to fall."
And she's like, "I got you. is that why you're walking like that?"
So I start laughing and explain to her about the heel-toe thing and also the weight distribution.
And she looks at me for a second and goes, "You have fun with that..." and like, quickens her speed.
So I was there, left alone, walking strangely, hoping not to fall, and feeling like a complete loser. At least I didn't fall? Right? Is that what you're thinking? Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing. At least I didn't fall.
I'm counting on a snow day for real tomorrow, though. I mean, that awkwardness should have at least granted me a snow day, fo real.
Namaste.
I don't check the weather because I find that they never seem to calculate correctly and we end up experiencing completely different weather than was originally forecasted. So, I just like to make very clear assertions. For instance, when it's raining, I go, "It's raining." Or when it's snowing I'll say, "It's snowing."
The only time I will EVER forecast the weather is when the sky is red at night. Red sky=snow. It's a fact.
So today, I was like, "I'm going to look like a human being and actually wear suitable clothing." This included my favorite pair of brown boots. My Paris boots. The boots I refuse to ever give away. I'm just waiting for something to happen to them so that I can take them to a shoe repairman and say, "FIX THEM NOW!!!!"
But there's a problem with these boots. Yes there is. They have absolutely NO traction. None whatsoever. So the moment it gets a little wet or something, I slip and slide alllll over the place. In Paris, I fell like 347 times while wearing them. For instance, on Thanksgiving last year, I fell down and I couldn't leave my house because my knee was so swollen. That is not something to be thankful for (dont end sentences with prepositions).
Today, of course, was no exception. Of course. Just my luck, right? I put on the shoes, left the house and everything was fine.
And then God said, "LET IT SNOW." And snow it did.
I had to go to class right when it was starting, and the entire time, all I could think was, "Oh man, oh man. I'm going to go outside, fall, hurt my butt, and THEN what am I going to do?" I was just sitting and waiting for the moment of doom to arrive.
When class was finally over, the sun had gone down, and it was sort of really snowing. I started to make my way to the car, but I decided to be very strategic about the way I was doing things.
I realized that if I put the heel of my shoe down before the rest, then it would lower my chances of falling, and if i distributed my weight, so that I was leaning forward a little bit that would also lower my chances.
So there I was, inching my way to my car, heel, toe, heel toe, heel toe, lean forward, lean forward, ok take it easy, just a little bit more. I was SO concentrated.
Then all of a sudden this girl from my class catches up to me. Now this gal, I don't know her name or anything about her, but she seems REALLY cool. She's someone who I want to become friends with, but like, we sit on opposite ends of the room, but she always says really funny things during class. We've only talked a couple times. Her celebrity lookalike would be the girl from Twilight. The main one.
She catches up to me and goes, "Hey are you alright?"
And I'm all, "Yeah, I just don't want to fall."
And she's like, "I got you. is that why you're walking like that?"
So I start laughing and explain to her about the heel-toe thing and also the weight distribution.
And she looks at me for a second and goes, "You have fun with that..." and like, quickens her speed.
So I was there, left alone, walking strangely, hoping not to fall, and feeling like a complete loser. At least I didn't fall? Right? Is that what you're thinking? Yeah, I'm thinking the same thing. At least I didn't fall.
I'm counting on a snow day for real tomorrow, though. I mean, that awkwardness should have at least granted me a snow day, fo real.
Namaste.
01 February, 2010
Post Script
I feel sort of stupid doing this, but I'll just go ahead and stay honest and real with you guys. On January 1, 2010, I was writing in my journal about new years resolutions and what I wanted mine to be. Now, usually I don't really think about it, because it's always like, "hahaha who ACTUALLY follows those?" But I was like, OK, what do I REALLY want this year? And what I really really want...well, if you take a look at the links I've listed on the right side of this page, you'll see that there are several of my favorite blogs. Some of them are my friends, but there are some "famous" ones. Garance Dore, the sartorialist, DOOCE (my fave du jour).
I would like to be like them. I keep thinking, how can I make this blog something special? Garance and the sartorialist go jet setting and take pictures of amazing people in amazing clothes all around the world, and Dooce is famous for being one of the first big "professional" bloggers of her time, plus shes an ex mormon, so she has that.
I don't jet set. And I'm not really an ex anything that is particularly interesting. But I try. I try to entertain my readers with stories. I put myself out there. Sometimes I think, do I really want people to know this? But I mean, why not? Right?
SOOO, by January 1, 2011, I would like to have turned my blog into, "something special." Something that will keep readers coming back for more. Something that will have Heather Armstrong of Dooce call me up and say, "Yo waddup Ranna, wanna grab some coffee? I'll bring my kids!" Or have Garance Dore call me and say, "Salut Ranna, I am sooooooo sorry for not answering your email about being my assistant. What can I do to make it up to you?" And I'll go, "Uhhh too late Garance, I've moved on to bigger and better things. I'm working for Heather Armstrong now!" And she'll go, "MON DIEU! PUTAIN! What have I done??" And then I say, "I REALLY hope you and your amazing Hermes Birkin bag have an extraordinary life together. CIAO!"
Moving on. There's an option to become a "follower" of this blog. It's really easy. If you have a google account, you can just press the button and VOILA! You're following me, and I hope that slowly one person turns into two turns into 62...but it starts with that first step. And if you read this and think, "uhh its so weird that I read Ranna's blog." PLEASE DONT THINK THAT. I've had a few people come up to me and be like, "I feel like such a stalker," and I'm all, "DUDES ITS LIKE MY BIGGEST GOAL IN LIFE (after wanting to become arab) TO HAVE PEOPLE READ MY BLOG!" And they kind of get taken aback and go, "ok so we'll keep reading it." And then I'm like, "AND BECOME MY FOLLOWER!!!" And they're like, "who are you, charles manson??" And so I stop harassing them.
Please start to follow this blog. I promise I'm not crazy like Charles. Ok, I'm a little crazy, but in a Luna Lovegood sort of way. I can only realize my new years resolution with YOUR help.
Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter. I hope to hear from you soon.
Regards,
Ranna Saeedi
G--5---94
I would like to be like them. I keep thinking, how can I make this blog something special? Garance and the sartorialist go jet setting and take pictures of amazing people in amazing clothes all around the world, and Dooce is famous for being one of the first big "professional" bloggers of her time, plus shes an ex mormon, so she has that.
I don't jet set. And I'm not really an ex anything that is particularly interesting. But I try. I try to entertain my readers with stories. I put myself out there. Sometimes I think, do I really want people to know this? But I mean, why not? Right?
SOOO, by January 1, 2011, I would like to have turned my blog into, "something special." Something that will keep readers coming back for more. Something that will have Heather Armstrong of Dooce call me up and say, "Yo waddup Ranna, wanna grab some coffee? I'll bring my kids!" Or have Garance Dore call me and say, "Salut Ranna, I am sooooooo sorry for not answering your email about being my assistant. What can I do to make it up to you?" And I'll go, "Uhhh too late Garance, I've moved on to bigger and better things. I'm working for Heather Armstrong now!" And she'll go, "MON DIEU! PUTAIN! What have I done??" And then I say, "I REALLY hope you and your amazing Hermes Birkin bag have an extraordinary life together. CIAO!"
Moving on. There's an option to become a "follower" of this blog. It's really easy. If you have a google account, you can just press the button and VOILA! You're following me, and I hope that slowly one person turns into two turns into 62...but it starts with that first step. And if you read this and think, "uhh its so weird that I read Ranna's blog." PLEASE DONT THINK THAT. I've had a few people come up to me and be like, "I feel like such a stalker," and I'm all, "DUDES ITS LIKE MY BIGGEST GOAL IN LIFE (after wanting to become arab) TO HAVE PEOPLE READ MY BLOG!" And they kind of get taken aback and go, "ok so we'll keep reading it." And then I'm like, "AND BECOME MY FOLLOWER!!!" And they're like, "who are you, charles manson??" And so I stop harassing them.
Please start to follow this blog. I promise I'm not crazy like Charles. Ok, I'm a little crazy, but in a Luna Lovegood sort of way. I can only realize my new years resolution with YOUR help.
Thank you for your time and consideration in this matter. I hope to hear from you soon.
Regards,
Ranna Saeedi
G--5---94
F F F F F F F F F
Either way there's going to 6 weeks of winter. No matter how they phrase what the groundhog sees or doesn't see. I mean, what the f? What the f is a groundhog?
If you didn't know, you will know now that I HATE FEBRUARY!! I hate it. It's my least favorite month. I've hated it since I was little. Let me tell you why. A month to month analysis of why every other month of the year is amazing EXCEPT FOR F-ING FEBRUARY!
March--Norooz, obv.
April--13bedar (MY FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR.) Plus, the weather starts to get warmer.
May--End of school!!
June--Beginning of summer!!!
July--MY BIRTHDAY
August--the continuation of summer, with chances of transitioning to "deep summer" mode. Or rather, wake up, hang out, watch tv, go outside, tan, eat a popsicle, go to the pool, come home, lounge around, barbeque, hang out, sleep. I really like to call it the, "What day of the week is it again?" mode.
September--Start of school (but what will happen next year, I do not know....hmmm)
October--Fall weather+halloween (pie and candy at nazy's house)
November--Thanksgiving, Obv.
December--Christmas, Shabeh Yalda
January--New Years, plus you're still excited about starting those resolutions, beginning a new year, a fresh clean start. Plus, I always like getting used to writing out the new date. 2010. Nice!
FEBRUARY--NOTHING!!!! THERE IS NOTHING I LIKE ABOUT FEBRUARY! IT SUCKS. ITS COLD AND GRAY AND GROUNDHOG DAY IS STUPID AND IT SNOWS AND THEN IT RAINS SO ITS SLUSHY AND I FALL DOWN AND THEN I HURT MY LEG AND MY INSURANCE GOES UP. (maybe.)
In any case, I can't wait for this month to be over. No wonder there are only 28 days in February. Maybe I'm not alone in my extreme sentiments about the month.
Wala Ala Balo
OK SO. This afternoon I was on my computer, doing nothing in particular, probably watching another episode of "Sex and the City," cus, ummmm I'm hooked since last week. I don't know why, really. The show is...not the best. But, I'm addicted to Carrie's wardrobe, and I find myself looking forward to the next episode just to see what she wears.
Like for instance (before I get into the real purpose of this post) today in Season 4 Episode 11, Carrie and Samantha were just walking down 5th Avenue, minding their own beeswax, talking about one sexual position after another, and meanwhile Carrie's sporting this blinggggg gold Allah chain, and I'm like, "uhhhhhhh is that allowed??" but, it's totally allowed in Carrie's world. She can wear anything, anytime, and look totally hot while she's wearing it. I'm envious, to say the least. So despite the lackluster dialogue that takes place among those women, you'll see me tuning in to Itunes for the remainder of the seasons.
Back to my original plan.
It's really interesting how many people we know without really thinking about how we know them until all of a sudden their presence in our lives becomes handy. Like for instance, this afternoon.
I'm watching "Sex and the City" when I remembered that Rosa Rad hadn't sent me my "arabic-word-of-the-day" recently.
Last semester, Rosa started messaging different Arabic words everyday, and we would have fun pretending that we knew how to speak fluently (Rosa's reading this right now going, "PRETENDING????"). So, by the end of the semester, I had a random collection of words that really had nothing to do with one another and that I couldn't really put together in a cohesive way. So, I randomly would say things like, "ahlan wa sahlan ya rosa, i like to drink shaay eat dajaaj and enti sahiba!" That means, "hi rosa, I like to drink tea, eat chick and you are my friend."
Only, that's what that means to me and Rosa. See, when I tried to "speak" Arabic to my Arab friends, they all looked at me like I was crazy. And then I would look at them, laugh, and start singing, "Enta hayaattiii, enta habbiiiibbbiii" and then they would start laughing.
So, I asked her to send me my word, and meanwhile, I organized all the words she had sent me into a nice word document. And then I wrote out a message for my friend, Nivin, and posted it on her facebook wall comprised of everything I "knew" how to say in Arabic. It said,
"ahlan wa sahlan ya nivin, ana ismii Ranna. kifak, hayati? ana bekhair. ana fila3n saeedah. leemadha? leeana enti jameela. ana askon fi al-walayat al-motahidah al-amrikiyah fi washington dc. naam. anjaat! habibti, enti taalibah. kayfah? enti fi al-maktabah kol yown! fila3n? aynah, sahiba? ana oheb dajaaj, haleeb, shay wa lahm. naam naam. OK, la a3rif."This literally translates into, "Hi Nivin. My name is Ranna. What's up? I am fine. I am very happy. Why? Because you are pretty good looking. I live in the United States of American in Washington DC. Yes. Really! You are a student. How? You are in the library every day! Truly? Where, my friend? I like chicken, milk, tea, and meat. Yes, yes. OK, I'm sorry."
I thought it was pretty funny. I laughed. So did Rosa.
But then Nivin wrote back. And she wrote: "
rana saeedi 2nti wa7deh khalsa 3al akheer . wlaik shou mshan??? hahhaha 7abait 7abaaaaaaait"
And that's when I was like, "hold up, whaaaaattttttt?" I write to you about how I like chicken, and all of a sudden, you're busting out with your straight thuggin Syrian slang talk? Ummm have you no mercy???
So here's where it got tricky.
I gchatted Rosa and was like, "homegirl, you have to help a sister out. What does this mean?"
And she was like, "Uhhhh I fail, Ranna, I have no idea."
So we tried to decipher it word for word, but that didn't work because 1. I get all my words from Rosa 2. Rosa didn't know those words. So we were like, what to do, what to do, what to do??
Meanwhile, lil Miss Palindrome (Nivin, get it? It's a palidrome. So cool, right? if only my name was Rannar) sends me another comment, " bs 7loueh mnaik ya rana ;) 3ateeha 3arabi min 3andik ;)" as if one comment isnt enough....
So Rosa and I are like, OK we know a lot of people, lets just ASK SOMEONE! not as easy as it sounds. Turns out, we know quite a few Arabs but 1.Most of them werent on gmail chat or facebook chat when we really needed them 2. the ones that were, weren't our number one choices.
But. We had to. We had to know what these things meant! Oh, by the way, I'm using, "we" because it really was "we," I mean, Rosa is my partner in matters relating to Arabic language and culture. She sends me daily texts about her encounters with Arabs, only bringing us one step closer to our main goal in life...to become Arabs.
So, I asked this Palestinian girl I rarely ever talk to and she was like, "oh it means...." I dont even remember because IT DIDNT MAKE ANY SENSE! And Rosa asked this Syrian guy who was like, "basically she's calling Ranna crazy."
Which made us laugh....but that's not all. Rosa, ladies and gents, made a friend tonight, this Syrian guy, Adam? Was that his name? Adam reads Rosa's blog (AND SO SHOULD YOU), and he's like, "yo Rosa, I'm hella entertained by your blog," so Rosa TOTALLY loses sight of the problem at hand (the translation) and starts to talk to her new friend about OTHER THINGS NOT PERTAINING TO THIS.
And then we gave up. But not before I asked my other Syrian friend, who lives in Syria. WHO IS IN SYRIA RIGHT NOW, haha, what it meant. And she still gave me this answer that I didn't quite understand, but at least I got the gist of it?
What I really wanted to put across with this post is that it's funny how we meet all of these people and a lot of the time we don't even think about knowing them. I mean, it's so easy these days to meet someone for an instant, hop onto facebook and "friend" them, without thinking about it, and we will remain friends until the day one of us decides, "ok, who is this person, and why am i his friend?" whereby we will "de-friend" them. It's sad, really.
I felt bad asking those people tonight for the translation. In a way, I really felt like a user and an abuser. I mean, I literally was like, "Hiiiiiii (insert name here) how are you? Could you do my a favor? Do you think you could translate this for me?" And then right when they gave me their answer I was all, "OK SEE YA!" But it had to be done.
But then, is that what all these networking sites are all about? I mean, are we allowed to friend people with whom we're not very close, just for the purpose of having them in our lives JUST IN CASE we have to translate Arabic into English? Maybe I shouldn't have gone through that defriending spree a couple months ago...hmmm.....
Well, in any case, I'm still waiting to actually figure out what she meant by those messages, but, it's not all bad, I did help rekindle Rosa's friendship with Adam. I hope they're happy speaking Arabic with one another, while I'm left wondering what the hell, "3ateeha 3arabi min 3andik ;)" means.
Just kidding, Roses, you know its all love here. Behebbak, habibti. Shokran, Afwan.
ma'asalamaa (goodbye)
31 January, 2010
27 January, 2010
the big friendly giant, midnight
I feel uninspired. DAD I want my camera back. Its midnight thirty. The witching hour. Remember the witching hour? In the BFG?
We used to stay up until midnight when we were young and call it the witching hour. We used to think it was so late. MIDNIGHT? What a feat, we stayed up that late.
Now it happens nightly.
People might say its not about the money, but its always about the money.
We used to stay up until midnight when we were young and call it the witching hour. We used to think it was so late. MIDNIGHT? What a feat, we stayed up that late.
Now it happens nightly.
People might say its not about the money, but its always about the money.
24 January, 2010
Find your Ninja Name (thanks avishan)
I steal things from Avishan's blog. But she should take it as a compliment because it is SO COOL!
http://itsmavisbacon.tumblr.com
My Ninja name is Shikatotoka
hahaha. What's yours?
http://itsmavisbacon.tumblr.com
hahaha. What's yours?
19 January, 2010
Women and World Religion
Last semester I only took ECON classes and one IT class and I thought it was the worst mistake ever. I was like, next semester, I'm mixing it up a little. So today, after three ECON classes, I entered my "Women and World Religion" class. I was excited, but a little nervous. It's funny because I was always nervous when I walked into my ECON classes, because before, I didnt know that many people or the professors and I didn't feel up to talking that much, but in all of my ECON classes today I saw familiar faces, and it was just a relaxed environment. We talked about our winter vacations, our finals last semester, how we felt about the teachers etc etc.
In the religion class, everyone knew each other except for me. When we went around and introduced ourselves EVERYONE was a Religious Studies major, and then there was me.
"Hello. I'm Ranna Saeedi. I study Economics and French. I'm a senior."
"Why are you taking this class Ranna?"
"Well. You see. I needed a little break from Economics this semester. I thought this would be an interesting class."
"Have you ever taken a religion class before?"
"No, but I've read a lot about Islam."
"Have you ever taken a women's studies course?"
"Nope. But I love Simone de Beauvoir."
The class laughed .
The teacher came up to me when everyone was working in groups and told me to prepare to work hard. I looked at her and told her I could handle it.
We talked about patriarchy. We talked about feminism and gender equality. Equality in general. I....I'm not used to talking about these things in my ECON classes without hearing smirks around the room. there were things that people said, and I could feel my blood starting to rise, I could feel myself beginning to get defensive about certain issues. What was it? Oh, some girl started to talk about feminism and was saying just the...things I don't agree with.
Each time I wanted to say something, I was shut down by this voice telling me not to talk, because clearly these religious studies majors, these womens studies majors know more than I do; it is, in any case, what they study.
But at one point, I couldn't keep my mouth shut and I started to talk. And then, it got easier. And then I was like, ok this is good. I can do this. I can be in this room. I can be a part of this.
I'm really looking forward to the rest of the semester and this class.
goodnight
In the religion class, everyone knew each other except for me. When we went around and introduced ourselves EVERYONE was a Religious Studies major, and then there was me.
"Hello. I'm Ranna Saeedi. I study Economics and French. I'm a senior."
"Why are you taking this class Ranna?"
"Well. You see. I needed a little break from Economics this semester. I thought this would be an interesting class."
"Have you ever taken a religion class before?"
"No, but I've read a lot about Islam."
"Have you ever taken a women's studies course?"
"Nope. But I love Simone de Beauvoir."
The class laughed .
The teacher came up to me when everyone was working in groups and told me to prepare to work hard. I looked at her and told her I could handle it.
We talked about patriarchy. We talked about feminism and gender equality. Equality in general. I....I'm not used to talking about these things in my ECON classes without hearing smirks around the room. there were things that people said, and I could feel my blood starting to rise, I could feel myself beginning to get defensive about certain issues. What was it? Oh, some girl started to talk about feminism and was saying just the...things I don't agree with.
Each time I wanted to say something, I was shut down by this voice telling me not to talk, because clearly these religious studies majors, these womens studies majors know more than I do; it is, in any case, what they study.
But at one point, I couldn't keep my mouth shut and I started to talk. And then, it got easier. And then I was like, ok this is good. I can do this. I can be in this room. I can be a part of this.
I'm really looking forward to the rest of the semester and this class.
goodnight
Quotation of the day
"In the midst of an abstract discussion it is vexing to hear a man say: "You think thus and so because you are a woman," but I know that my only defense is to reply, "I think thus and so because it is true," thereby removing my subjective self from the argument. It would be out of the question to reply: " And you think the contrary because you are a man," for it is understood that the fact of being a man is no peculiarity. A man is in the right in being a man; it is the woman who is in the wrong... Woman has ovaries, a uterus; these particularities imprison her in her subjectivity, circumscribe her within the limits of her own nature. It is often said that she thinks with her glands. Man superbly ignores the fact that his anatomy also includes glands, such as the testicles, and that they secrete hormones. He thinks of his body as a direct and normal connection with the world, which he believes he apprehends objectively, whereas he regards the body of woman as a hindrance, a prison, weighted down by everything peculiar to it."
Simone de Beauvoir, philosopher
Simone de Beauvoir, philosopher
18 January, 2010
Pop goes the weasel
I usually don't like talking about weight because it's a touchy subject for me, but I've decided to write about it because I'm starting a new regimen and maybe if I write about it and I'm more open about it, it will keep me motivated to continue.
I don't really remember when it started to become an issue for me, but for as long as we've lived in DC at least, I've struggled with my weight. For a long while after we moved here, I was a regular at the gym, but then...then I stopped. And it's been a roller coaster ride ever since then. I've been on every single diet you can imagine (sometimes I make them up, sometimes I read about them, whatever it is, I've done it), and I've tried to keep up with a work out, but it's just SUCH a difficult thing for me to do. I'm always like, "Ranna, this is it. This time, youre going to keep it, you're going to keep going. This is it. This time is the real deal." And then what happens? Well. Usually, one day I'm confronted with some chips and maast and I collapse, which starts the downward spiral. I keep saying, OK today I'll eat this, and then tomorrow I'm back on my diet. And then it happens again, until I finally give up.
The thing is, I DONT KNOW WHY THIS HAPPENS!!!!! When you think about it, it's just FOOD. And really, it SHOULD be the easiest thing to control. You eat when you're hungry. You don't eat when you're not. You know what's healthy. You know what's not healthy.
When you're on a diet, you have a set of rules. Why is it so hard to follow these rules? Why do the rules taunt you? How come when you say, NO CHIPS AND MAAST, you can't just follow it?
I don't want to fall victim to this again. I really dont. I think this time is different from the last because I'm 100% committed to this. I'm just sick and tired of feeling humongo. Really. In Colorado, I was lying on the bed one day, and I just felt like, "OH MY GOD, IM GOING TO EXPLODE. I'VE TURNED INTO A BALLOON AND I'M GOING TO POP AT ANY SECOND." So I started yelling at my mom and I said, "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST HELP ME????? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT TO EAT, HOW TO EAT, WHEN TO EAT?"
And she said, "OK, if you want me to, I will."
And I yelled, "OF COURSE I WANT YOU TO. CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'VE TURNED INTO THE MICHELIN TIRE BOY??"
And she was all, "But you have to listen to me."
And I screamed, "WHATEVER, JUST GET IT OFFFFFFFFFFFFF"
So ok. Since I've been back, my mom and I have been on a ZERO CARB diet. And it's funny, because Salma is a vegetarian, and I think my mom was like, ok what can I make that goes well with both of these things. So she started to make a lot of lentils. BUT THEN I STARTED GOOZING LIKE NO OTHER.
So now she makes, actually, pretty good food. Always some sort of meat, and a bunch of vegetables. Ok, I admit, for breakfast, I still eat granola. But only a handful. With low fat vanilla yogurt and fruit. It's just my favorite. I always eat that for breakfast. Anyway, who wants to eat eggs and bacon and ham for breakfast? I don't.
So yeah, breakfast is that.
Then meat and vegetables. A lot of fruit. We can have string cheese for snacks. Macadamia nuts are pretty good to munch on. Veggies, when you feel like it. Green tea. Green tea. Green tea. Water. Water. Water.
And THEN, to top it all off. I've been waiting for school to start, because I hate driving to George Mason when I don't have classes, but, I'm going to start working out at the gym again. I've had this podcast, FOREVER, that basically trains you to run a 5k in 9 weeks. I'm going to start doing that. I really want to learn how to run. I used to always do track and field when I was younger and I'd really like to get back into it.
Besides that, I like the elliptical a lot. It's my favorite.
Also, if anyone is interested in going to the GMU gym with me, anytime, I need help learning how to do all the weights machine. So...I'm just putting that out there.
This is a sort of contract, this blog, that I've written, and there is NO WAY IM GOING TO BREACH THIS BABY. I'm in it to win it this time. Watch me noooowwwwwwwwww.
If you guys have any tips, let me know, I'm open to suggestions :)
Ranna Saeedi
18 January 2009
I don't really remember when it started to become an issue for me, but for as long as we've lived in DC at least, I've struggled with my weight. For a long while after we moved here, I was a regular at the gym, but then...then I stopped. And it's been a roller coaster ride ever since then. I've been on every single diet you can imagine (sometimes I make them up, sometimes I read about them, whatever it is, I've done it), and I've tried to keep up with a work out, but it's just SUCH a difficult thing for me to do. I'm always like, "Ranna, this is it. This time, youre going to keep it, you're going to keep going. This is it. This time is the real deal." And then what happens? Well. Usually, one day I'm confronted with some chips and maast and I collapse, which starts the downward spiral. I keep saying, OK today I'll eat this, and then tomorrow I'm back on my diet. And then it happens again, until I finally give up.
The thing is, I DONT KNOW WHY THIS HAPPENS!!!!! When you think about it, it's just FOOD. And really, it SHOULD be the easiest thing to control. You eat when you're hungry. You don't eat when you're not. You know what's healthy. You know what's not healthy.
When you're on a diet, you have a set of rules. Why is it so hard to follow these rules? Why do the rules taunt you? How come when you say, NO CHIPS AND MAAST, you can't just follow it?
I don't want to fall victim to this again. I really dont. I think this time is different from the last because I'm 100% committed to this. I'm just sick and tired of feeling humongo. Really. In Colorado, I was lying on the bed one day, and I just felt like, "OH MY GOD, IM GOING TO EXPLODE. I'VE TURNED INTO A BALLOON AND I'M GOING TO POP AT ANY SECOND." So I started yelling at my mom and I said, "WHY CAN'T YOU JUST HELP ME????? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT TO EAT, HOW TO EAT, WHEN TO EAT?"
And she said, "OK, if you want me to, I will."
And I yelled, "OF COURSE I WANT YOU TO. CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I'VE TURNED INTO THE MICHELIN TIRE BOY??"
And she was all, "But you have to listen to me."
And I screamed, "WHATEVER, JUST GET IT OFFFFFFFFFFFFF"
So ok. Since I've been back, my mom and I have been on a ZERO CARB diet. And it's funny, because Salma is a vegetarian, and I think my mom was like, ok what can I make that goes well with both of these things. So she started to make a lot of lentils. BUT THEN I STARTED GOOZING LIKE NO OTHER.
So now she makes, actually, pretty good food. Always some sort of meat, and a bunch of vegetables. Ok, I admit, for breakfast, I still eat granola. But only a handful. With low fat vanilla yogurt and fruit. It's just my favorite. I always eat that for breakfast. Anyway, who wants to eat eggs and bacon and ham for breakfast? I don't.
So yeah, breakfast is that.
Then meat and vegetables. A lot of fruit. We can have string cheese for snacks. Macadamia nuts are pretty good to munch on. Veggies, when you feel like it. Green tea. Green tea. Green tea. Water. Water. Water.
And THEN, to top it all off. I've been waiting for school to start, because I hate driving to George Mason when I don't have classes, but, I'm going to start working out at the gym again. I've had this podcast, FOREVER, that basically trains you to run a 5k in 9 weeks. I'm going to start doing that. I really want to learn how to run. I used to always do track and field when I was younger and I'd really like to get back into it.
Besides that, I like the elliptical a lot. It's my favorite.
Also, if anyone is interested in going to the GMU gym with me, anytime, I need help learning how to do all the weights machine. So...I'm just putting that out there.
This is a sort of contract, this blog, that I've written, and there is NO WAY IM GOING TO BREACH THIS BABY. I'm in it to win it this time. Watch me noooowwwwwwwwww.
If you guys have any tips, let me know, I'm open to suggestions :)
Ranna Saeedi
18 January 2009
17 January, 2010
The Land of Buffalo and 14ers
So I got my computer back yesterday (thanks Reza!) equipped with all sorts of cool things. I'm really excited. BUT, now that a week has passed since our trip to Colorado I feel sort of strange writing a blog post about it. But, I guess I will since there was mucho I wanted to share.
SO COLORADO. Salma and I grew up there, I lived there until I was 16 years old and that's when I moved to DC. I thought it was the nightmare of my life unfolding when my mom told me that we were moving. I thought I would never be happy again, and I spent the first 6 months of living here listening to Death Cab for Cutie on repeat, wearing brown corduroys, and cutting my bangs so they would cover my eyes (this equaled EMO for me. Note--I still do all three things these days but I skip the label). I was disheartened by everything that was northern Virginia. I would go to school and I would get FREAKED out by the number of students who were NOT white. And the worst thing for me was, I couldn't break into the "white" crowd at school, because I was just another Iranian, why did I want to be their friend anyway?
It was tough. Slowly but surely, I began to find friends here and there, I started to appreciate living here more, and the tables began to turn.
Since then, I visited Colorado a couple of times, and each time, I felt that I was pulled farther and farther away from what my life had previously been. This time, though, my connection with Colorado was virtually obsolete, and as much as I tried, I couldn't muster up enough energy to appreciate it.
It started I think while we were waiting in line at the airport to check in. I looked over to my side and saw this young guy, probably my age, dressed in full-on military garb, standing there looking solemn. I was pulled into a flashback of living in Colorado during the first deployment of American soldiers to Afghanistan. The air was tense because so many of Colorado Springs citizens had military ties. All over the city there were banners reading, "SUPPORT OUR TROOPS." Restaurants, movie theaters, stores, they all gave military discounts. I remember many of my classmates feeling bittersweet about their fathers and mothers leaving. Sad because they had no idea what the future held for their parents, would they return and in what state? Proud because they had a parent serving the United States Army. They were pure patriots, they were, they held upmost dedication to the United States of America.
I always held my tongue at school when issues of the war would come up. Already I had been labeled as "the other" when it came to issues of CITIZENSHIP. Engar na engar I was born in the United States and I had been at school with these people since preschool. No, during that period, it was always, "Ranna, aren't you from eyyyee-rack?" No actually I'm not. But that's where it ended. These days, I don't really understand why I didn't try to educate my peers. I think it was sort of as a means to fit in. I didn't want to separate myself more from them by explaining that I was Iranian, and that Iran was here on the map, Iraq was here, Afghanistan was there, and that Guatemala and Greece shouldn't be confused, and couldn't by any means be used interchangeably.
So where was I, oh yeah, the airport. So I started to think about all of these things while we were still in Dulles Airport. And I found myself feeling a little queasy as I asked my mom, "Uhhh Mom? Why are we going to Colorado again? Who made this decision? Do I have to go?" I desperately wanted to stay back. That wasn't happening.
When we got to Colorado, it didn't get any easier. Life is different there. Slower, more relaxed. People take their time. They say "hi" to each other in the street. They drive slowly, no honking. They wait in line for longer periods of time.
Coming from the east coast, things we are definitely not familiar with. Living in DC for the last several years, I was not used to the relaxed nature of the sales clerks. The way they talk to everyone, why do they want to know everyone's life story? Pu-leese. Ring me up, let me go. KThanksBYE!
OK, so there I was after a couple days, sitting in our condo in Colorado and wondering once again why I couldn't just enjoy all of these things about Colorado instead of being so damn critical. I wonder, if I had never lived here, if I didn't have the basis for comparison, would I appreciate being here more? Would I appreciate the beauty of the mountains without thinking of the homogenous culture? Would I be able to walk into a store, wait in line for a ridiculous amount of time and think, "How very quaint! The culture of small-town life! Sigghhhh. Couldn't we all just sit back and smell the flowers every once in a while?"
Maybe.
But the issue of lack of diversity really gets to me. I can't live in Colorado anymore because of this, I think. I am comforted now by the fact that there are so many different kinds of people here, that there is an acceptance and a yearning to be educated about all the different ethnicities. That I don't have to hide my Iranian lifestyle from my American one, that I can join them.
I have the perfect anecdote for this.
Since we've moved to Virginia, not ONE person has mispronounced my name. So amazing. I was completely 100% surprised when at school my first year at Marshall High School, all the teachers perfectly said, "Ranna" sans pause or difficulty. It was such a breath of fresh air. BECAUSE:
In Colorado, EVERYONE mispronounced my name. It was always just known that OK first day of school, pause before they said a name, THAT name was my name.
But I had forgotten about this detail UNTIL
We went to get my Colorado Card (it's a card that's connected to a credit card and can be used as a lift ticket and also to buy food and merchandise) and the guy had my name in the system already and he called me "Reena." REENA?!?!? UUUH, excuse me, mister, but do you see any "E's" in my name? No, I don't think so. Reena?? Please. So I corrected him and said, "Actually its RANNA." BUT THEN, he said my name again, and called me Reena... AGAIN!!! At that point I was like, ok whatever, Reena it is. If you want.
Then, when I was telling Bryan, my stepbrother, about this, I asked, "is it because they don't take the time to look at my name, or QUOI?!?!"
We came to the conclusion that maybe its that.
But probably its because names there range from Katie-to Laura-to Madison. Ranna is just ranging into the realm of the unknown. And Saeedi? Sheesh, that name taunts people into call Homeland Security.
"Well hey there missus, sayyyyyyy, wasn't Saeedi the name of one of those fellars there that crashed the planes? One of those men there working for Obama?"
"Obama? Obama? Ohhhhh you mean Osama bin-Laden."
Laughs, "Osama, Obama, always get confused about those two."
Righhhhhhhhhhhhhhtttttt.
Man, I'm really being bad. Lets not forget that Colorado was a blue state during the last elections. Finally. It's about time.
But, my bitterness is unfolding from all of the stereotypical racial slurs I received from my peers after September 11th up until we moved. So, I have a right to throw it in their faces.
I want to write about Dani and Genevieve too, but I think they deserve their own blog post. One that is not dripping with cynical sneers.
Tomorrow.
I want to write about Dani and Genevieve too, but I think they deserve their own blog post. One that is not dripping with cynical sneers.
Tomorrow.
14 January, 2010
why am i obsessed with heather armstrong's kids?
This one is pretty good too:
http://vimeo.com/6214247
http://vimeo.com/6214247
Bob, Bob, like Bob Dylan
So, I'm obsessed with this video, and I've watched it about 18374 times, but it still doesn't get old. When Salma and I were stuck in the airport (that blog is coming soon, I PROMISE, I just have to get my computer back) I recited it from beginning to the end. And then I was like, "holy crap, why have I memorized this?" And I sort of started to get scared that I was turning into Salma.
You guys know what I mean, right? Salma knows lines from every single movie she's ever watched and recites them on the daily.
Some of her favorites:
"Nanny where you goinnnngggg? Nanny don't leavee meeeeeeeeeee!" (Nanny Diaries)
"Dad, I met a man in Rome and he's brilliant and wonderful and we're getting marrrriiieedddd" (Father of the Bride 1)
"It's a bold wine with a hint of sophistication and lacking in pretention...actually, I was just describing myself." (French Kiss) (Aaaccctually, Salma knows all the lines to "French Kiss," and I wont write them all out..last night apparently they were watching the movie (it's our favorite, you know?) and Salma changed it after she realized that she was reciting every single line, verbatim.)
"Eyyy Blanca!" (Weeds)
"You're WILD...WILD!!!" (Dirty Dancing)
"Nicolas Flamel? Who is Nicolas Flamel? I dunnoo" (Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone)
"Marvas? MARVASSS" (Parent Trap)
"Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories...we've already missed the spring." ("An Affair to Remember" but recited in Sleepless in Seattle)
"Chaarrliiieee you making me nerrvoussss" (It Could Happen To You)
Ok, that's enough for now. Mostly because I can't concentrate because I'm at work and my mom and grandma are talking. And I'd like to listen to what they're saying.
OH, so here's the video, by the way. Watch it, it's the cutest.
http://vimeo.com/8264773
You guys know what I mean, right? Salma knows lines from every single movie she's ever watched and recites them on the daily.
Some of her favorites:
"Nanny where you goinnnngggg? Nanny don't leavee meeeeeeeeeee!" (Nanny Diaries)
"Dad, I met a man in Rome and he's brilliant and wonderful and we're getting marrrriiieedddd" (Father of the Bride 1)
"It's a bold wine with a hint of sophistication and lacking in pretention...actually, I was just describing myself." (French Kiss) (Aaaccctually, Salma knows all the lines to "French Kiss," and I wont write them all out..last night apparently they were watching the movie (it's our favorite, you know?) and Salma changed it after she realized that she was reciting every single line, verbatim.)
"Eyyy Blanca!" (Weeds)
"You're WILD...WILD!!!" (Dirty Dancing)
"Nicolas Flamel? Who is Nicolas Flamel? I dunnoo" (Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone)
"Marvas? MARVASSS" (Parent Trap)
"Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories...we've already missed the spring." ("An Affair to Remember" but recited in Sleepless in Seattle)
"Chaarrliiieee you making me nerrvoussss" (It Could Happen To You)
Ok, that's enough for now. Mostly because I can't concentrate because I'm at work and my mom and grandma are talking. And I'd like to listen to what they're saying.
OH, so here's the video, by the way. Watch it, it's the cutest.
http://vimeo.com/8264773
12 January, 2010
UPDATE COMING SOON
For those of you curious to know, I will be updating my blog as soon as I head over to George Washington University to pick up my laptop from the ever-so-nice, Reza Rad, who was working to download all sorts of things onto it while we were in Colorado.
Pictures and details about our trip will be arriving soon.
Until then.
Pictures and details about our trip will be arriving soon.
Until then.
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