تقدیم به بهار

سخت و غریبه ... اینکه هنوز بعد از سه ماه و ده روز ، هنوز باور نمیکنم رفتی.. صبح علی الطلوعی که مونیکا با صدای آروم ازم پرسید میخوام بخوابم یا بیدارم چون میخواست این خبر نحس رو بهم بده. توی اون لحظه خبر ساده بود. اینکه یه هواپیمای ایرانی به مقصد تورنتو سقوط کرده و تا موبایل رو چک کردم خبر اینکه تو توی هواپیما بودی رو کیوان بهم داد. چند روز فقط اشک میریختم. پیغامهات رو دونه دونه گوش میدادم و درد میکشیدم. شاید خودمو مقصر میدونستم که تو توی اون هواپیمایی. شاید سرنوشت بعد از اون نامه ای که بهم دادی جور دیگه رقم میخورد. نامه ای که بعد خوندنش با خودم فکر کردم چرا ما از اولش اینجوری نبودیم. اون نامه هیچوقت جوابی نداشت چون من بهت احتیاج داشتم. به پناه اوردن از تنهاییم بهت ، به بیخیالی طی کردنها باهات ، و نمیخواستم عوض بشه. کلمات نامه از جلوی چشمام رد میشه و روی یه قسمت گیر میکنه ... مگه چقدر قراره زندگی کنیم...

به خودم تصلی میدم که شاید اگه سرنوشت جور دیگه ای رقم میخورد منم با تو توی هواپیما بودم. ولی کیو گول میزنم؟ توی  مراسمت همه اومده بودن. دوستای قدیمی ولی دوست داشتم تنها باشم. دوست داشتم یه گوشه بشینم و گریه کنم

دیروز مثل دیوونه ها وسایلم رو میگشتم که اون سی دی ای که توی ایران بهم دادیو پیدا کنم. نبود که نبود. انگار داشتم چنگ میزدم به ابر.... 

خوب بخوابی

شقایق

این بلاگ ما هم بدجوری شبیه قسمت آگهی های تسلیت روزنامه ها شده ...

شاید چون یه خلوتیه که چون خیلی کسی ازش رد نمیشه ، دلم که میگیره میام یه دو خط سیاه میکنم. الانم اومدم راجع به شقایق بنویسم که پریروز پر کشید. میدونستم چند وقتی که حالش خوب نیست. دوست داشتم روزهای آخر یه کاری میکردم خوشحال بشه. بدونه با اینکه مدتهاس نمیبینشون ، همیشه به یادشونم. ولی دلم نمیومد ببینمش. برای کامی پیغام کوتاهی گذاشتم که شاید کل حسم رو توی دو سه تا جمله ای خلاصه کنم. دایره ی دوستی خیلی نزدیکی داشتن که توی یه لحظه دلم برای تک تکشون سوخت. کاش یادش هیچوقت کمرنگ نشه.

خدا به همشون صبر بده.  

Babak Zanjani, Business man or a clown in suit?

 

It's funny to check out Facebook Trends to come across Babak Zanjani's execution order and how people across the world have heated up the trend. Among the mixed opinions, some felt sorry for a country where successful businessmen get executed and some backed the idea and rubbed Iran's justice system on dealing mercilessly with corrupt businessmen to US's face ! I guess this is what people refer to as Freedom of Speech! FML!

No one really knows how he showed up in Iran's political hall of fame. Well, or at least except those who inflated his image. So this dude was probably a low-key businessman/puppet who was supposed to sell Iran's oil through his diverse channels to bi-pass the sanctions that were imposed to Iran back in time. So with the cash flow that he generated by transferring money from one account to another (In the supply chain of the oil market he is basically an entity with two hands! Takes oil from one hand, sells it to designated costumers with another, receives money from one hand and returns it back to Iran with another which makes it 4 hands?) So anyhow, he built reputation based on this cash flow and of course by using the money that was allegedly stuck in the accounts from time to time due to money laundry investigations. 

And the reason he was sent to prison was because the money that was supposed to be deposited to Ministry of Energy, that happened to be of the scale of 2 Billion Dollars, was somehow vanished.  

So does this make him a good businessman? No! 

Does this make Iran an example of firm and mercilessly rule of justice? Hell no! I think at best, all it shows is that the judiciary has either found a way to get the money without the need of Mr.Zanjani, or they juts want to get over this mess in silence and avoid raising any attention about the origin of this mm... phenomenon!

To me, Babak Zanjani, at his best, was an opportunist like so many more of his kind in Iran who took advantage of the sanctions, and of course the lack of supervision and knowledge in foreign trades in Iran,

PS> Disclaimer: The above is only my thought on the matter based on what I have concluded from local and international media for the past couple of years. Once again, no one really knows who he showed up in Iran's political hall of fame. Well or at least except those who inflated his image. 

Signing out,

Peace!

Bouncin back

Wow! And then I bounced back to Blogger after mm.. 3 years? 4 years? I have to admit after all this time, I find the name rather cheesy. Or perhaps a desperate effort to sound sophisticated!
I guess I've passed that now.

So what's changed since then? I've grown up. Things don't excite me as much anymore. I look at people through the glass of experience. I don't despise, I don't avoid. I welcome.

While writing this, I remember a summer, on a ride to Kingston when I said, "I think life is more like surfing and I like to improvise".

I think that's what I'm doing now and although it gets hectic from time to time, I feel peaceful.

--------------
Logging out

Sina K. Maram

همه چی آرومه

کلا" توی این وانفسای بیکاری و دربدری نمیدونم چه کرمیه میفته به جونم که ته مغزمو میجوره تا چیزی برای نوشتن پیدا کنه. فردا دقیقا" دو ماه میشه که اومدم توی سرزمین رزهای وحشی. کلا" این استان همه چیزش دم از زمختی میزنه ، درست مثل رزهای وحشی ! از آب و هوای تخمیش بگیر تا آدمهای نتراشیده و نخراشیده اش و وانت های پیک آپ و کله خر هایی که سوارشون میشن و الی آخر ...

ولی با همه ی زمختیش چیزی داره که دوستش دارم. اینکه توش هیچ وقت راحت نیستی ! برای همین خودتو قانع نمیکنی که تا بوق سگ بخوابی. راستی صحبت از سگ شد ، اینجا راست گفتن که وسط هفته اگه هوا تاریک بشه تو سر سگ هم بزنی از لونه اش در نمیاد !

راستی امروز یه صحنه ی مریض هم دیدم. زن و شوهری که باهاشون زندگی میکنم، سر یه موضوع مسخره بچه ی 3 سالشون رو دعوا کردن و بعد از تعدادی تنبیه فیزیکی ملایم که البته ضجه ی بچه رو هم در آورد با گفتن یه I love you ساده همه چیز رو خیلی ساده رفع و رجوع کردن. بچه ی بدبخت هم عین سگ شرطی شده اینو که شنید گل از گلش شکفت و یه I love you too از سر سادگی و حماقت تحویل پدر مادر داد و جا به جا خوابید. خلاصه که این ذات بشره ظاهرا" و brain fuck کردن مغز توله هاشو از همون عنفوان جوانیش توش نهادینه میکنه و تمام ضجه های این بچه ی بدبخت شاید پاسخ ناخوداگاهیه به rewire شدن سلولهای عصبی توی مغزش برای تطبیق خودش با چنین دنیایی که داره توش زندگی میکنه. هرچند مطمئن نیستم این بیشتر قراره توی مغزش تاثیر بذاره یا صدای آه و اوه آدمای غریبه که بخاطر روشنفکری بیش از حد پدر مادر گرامی هر شب شاهدش هستیم.

بعله خلاصه این جایی هستش که ما توش زندگی میکنیم و به قول شاعر معروف ، همه چی آرومه و من چقدر خوشحالم !

و ما هم زاییده شدیم

 ساعت یک صبح اولین روز 29 سالگی بنده است و اون دکلمه ی خسرو شکیبایی که نگار هزار هزار بار گوش میدادش وصف حال الان منه. درست عین اون کتابی که ملکیادس کولی قبل مردنش توی صد سال تنهایی نوشت

سلام

حال همه ی ما خوب است

ملالی نیست جز گم شدن گاه به گاه خیالی دور

که مردم به ان شادمانی بی سبب می گویند

با این همه عمری اگر باقی بود

طوری از کنار زندگی می گذرم

که نه پای اهوی بی جفت بلرزد و

نه این دل ناماندگار بی درمان!

تا یادم نرفته است بنویسم

حوالی خوابهای ما سال پربارانی بود

می دانم همیشه حیاط انجا پر از هوای تازه باز نیامدن است

اما تو لا اقل حتی هر وهله گاهی هر از گاهی

ببین انعکاس تبسم رویا

شبیه شمایل شقایق نیست!

راستی خبرت بدهم

خواب دیده ام خانه ای خریده ام

بی پرده...بی پنجره...بی در...بی دیوار....هی بخند!

بی پرده بگویمت

چیزی نمانده است..من چهل ساله خواهم شد

فردا را به فال نیک خواهم گرفت

دارد همین لحظه یک فوج کبوتر سپید

از فراز کوچه ما می گذرد

باد بوی نامهای کسان من می دهد

یادت می ایدرفته بودی خبر از ارامش اسمان بیاوری؟!

نه ری را جان

نامه ام باید کوتاه باشد

ساده یاشد

بی حرف از ابهام و اینه

از نو برایت می نویسم

حال همه ی ما خوب است

اما تو باور مکن

در ضمن خانه را نخریدم از یک زوج خوشبخت اتاقی اجاره کرده ام

Nostalgia

I wrote this post two years ago the night before Iranian new year when my grandma was going through hard times with a surgery that gladly turned out to be OK. I didn't publish it back then cuz I thought there is more I can do than just documenting my memories. But now that it is all passed, I guess the post is not classified anymore and for the first time it's in Farsi:

اغراق نمیکنم اگه بگم هیچ وقتی اندازه ی دیشب دلم برای ایران تنگ نشد، برای شما دو تا عزیزی که بعد عمری تک و تنها یه گوشه ای توی اون تهران کوفتی پر از دود نشستید و چشمتونم به دره که شاید یکی از خاطرات قدیمتون در بزنه و بیاد تو.

یاد بچگیهامون میفتم ، یاد شلنگ تخته انداختنهامون ، اون وقتهایی که هنوز اونقدر بچه بودیم که آلمان رفتن رو به زنجان رفتن ترجیح نمیدادیم ! اون وقتهایی که یه خونه ی با در رنگ و رو رفته ی آبی که بعدا" رنگش کردن توی کوچه ی مشکی سعدی شمالی ، دری بود که وقتی بازش میکردی همه چی کارتونی میشد. خونه ای که توی خیال یه بچه ی 6-7 ساله یه قصر بود که در هر اتاقش باز میشد به یه سرزمین اسرار آمیز ! یه درش باز میشد به صندوق خونه ی همیشه تاریک با یه صندوق قدیمی سبزیا سیاه بزرگ که همیشه فکر میکردم بالاخره یه روز یه چیزی توش پیدا میکنم ! یا اون اتاقی که توش یه تخت بود که همه ی تشک ها و پتو ها و بالش های خونه روش تلمبار شده بود و خیال پردازی بچه گونه ی من که گلشید و میلاد رو قاتع کرده بودم که "اگه از اون بالا بپریم پایین و بال بزنیم ، بالاخره میتونیم پرواز کنیم" و هر دفعه هم قسم میخوردیم که "به جون خودم یه ذره پرواز کردم !!!!"

اتاقی که هر دفعه تو میرفتی توش ، صدای ناله و نفرینت بلند میشد که " کی باز همه ی این نخ های منو اینور و اونور گره زد" و خنده ی زیر زیرکی ما که به خیال خودمون همه ی اتاق رو تار عنکبوت بستیم.

یا اتاق تو که از قدیما به ما گفته بودن یه انبار شکلات و آدامس توش قایم کردی ولی انقدر بد اخلاق بودی که جرات نمیکردیم بهش نزدیک بشیم تا اینکه از یه روزی به بعد دیگه بد اخلاق نبودی. در انبارتم باز کردی و هر چی توش بود بینمون تقسیم کردیم. اعتراف میکنم عین 4 ساعت مسیر برگشت به تهران دخل همه اش رو در آوردیم.

یا اتاق تو که هیچ وقت اجازه نداشتیم بریم توش. اتاقی که همیشه سرد بود و غریبه ! پر از کاغذهای جورواجور با ادبیات عجیب قضایی که یه کلمه اش رو هم نمیفهمیدیم و همیشه سخت بود قبول کرد که این اتاق سرد برای پدر بزرگیست با گرمترین و آبی ترین چشمهای دنیا !

یا اون هال وسط خونه که هر وقت نوه ها میرسیدن ، همیشه ی خدا مثل بازار مکاره بود و چه ذوقی که تو میکردی وقتی یه سفره ی بزرگ پهن میکردیم موقع شام و تو بلند میگقتی " خدایا شکرت که همه مون دور هم جمعیم" و حس تلخی که از کودکی به من میگفت که از روزی میترسی که این سفره باشه و کسی پاش ننشینه.

خر بودیم آقا ! چه میفهمیدیم زلزله چیه ؟ عشقمون این بود که بعدش تشکها رو توی حیاط پهن کنیم و توی خنکای شبهای بهار پتو رو بکشیم رو سرمون و کز کرده بخوابیم !

حیاطی که به تعداد خارهای گلهای سرخش پوستمون زخم و زیلی شده بود تا شاید ما دوچرخه سواری یاد بگیریم. حیاطی که گوشه اش ما بچه ها به گوسفند بخت برگشته ای برگ مو میدادیم و چه میفهمیدیم کله پاچه ی فردا از کجا می آید ؟

راستی مغازه ی خلیل یادت هست ؟ خدا بیامرزدش ! مشتری بهتر از ما برای تیله ها و توپ های پلاستیکی و ساعت های پلاستیکی اش پیدا نمیکرد !

امشب شب عجیبیست ! من سینا هستم ! پسر فریبا و بیژن ! فریبا پسر ضیا و هایده ، بیژن پسر درویش و فاطمه ! من سینا هستم ! نوه ی ضیا و هایده ، نوه ی درویش و فاطمه ! درویش من را نمیشناسد ! خدابیامرز پسرش را هم نشناخت و رفت ، فاطمه هم مرا چندان نشناخت ! اما ضیا و هایده من را میشناسند! اگر این نامه را شب عید میخوانید ، معنی اش این است که من آنجا نیستم. چون اگر بودم نیازی به این همه اراجیف نبود ، در آغوش میگرفتمتان و برای کودکی ام ، نوجوانی ام و جوانی ام میبوسیدمتان ! عیدی هایتان را نذر سلامتی تان میکردم و آنقدر نگاهتان میکردم به جبران این 5 سال دوری !!!

The old man and a Range Rover

It was the first day after I learned about my lay off news that I noticed I haven't taken shower for ages. The stress and long working hours along with the long lonely times in a Cafe in Kensington market thinking about what to do next had distracted me enough.

As I was turning the tap to soak in the bathtub, mom knocked on the door. I heard some scattered words among the noise of water pouring in the tub but few words were enough to know Dai Mahmoud is not among us anymore.  Later I heard, after talking for a good two hours with his daughter, while getting ready to go out he has a stroke and immediately passes away; just the way he always wanted...quick and painless.

Dai Mahmoud was -I think- the third youngest member of Malek family before my grandma but he was probably the funniest of all. When he was around, one thing was guaranteed. There was no way he couldn't entertain you with his magical stories. As if he had a big big binder of memories classified based on the age of the person he speaks to. As if Tim Burton and Daniel Wallace had talked to him before making the "Big Fish". We never cared how much our parents were arguing with us that we shouldn't believe his stories because we knew, by heart, that when he's not around, he is in the jungle dancing with giraffes and fighting with lions. It was weird because as we grew up there was something within us that urged us to hear more whenever he was around.

From the whole planet, he owned this old green Range Rover. It could be decently 30 years old but he loved it so much. I remember one day in the first year of university, he gave me a ride and I asked him if he has any plan to change the car to something more convenient and he started with a story that how one day as he pulled over to buy a newspaper, once he got back there was a hot chick sitting in the car asking him to go to his place. I remember the story was so descriptive that I swear I could smell Buffy Tyler perfume from my seat. Although that story ended with him turning down the offer and asking her to get out of the car but I'm sure if I was asking him the same story now, the ending was a bit different.

The last time I saw him was in 2007 in my short trip to Iran. He wasn't changed much. Still wearing the same old glasses, reddish tanned face and blue eyes and most probably a very distinguishable Iranian cigarette in hand.

Now thousands of miles away from where he lives I'm lying in the bathtub and my mom, through the noise of water pouring in the tub is elaborating about how he passed away. Does it really matter? Because I don't believe her! I know he didn't just fall and never wake up! It has to be some other way. Like he has left a note and is gone. Maybe to the jungle he always talked about with all sorts of animals greeting him like the prelude of the Lion King.  Who knows maybe someday we tell our kids "We had an uncle who used to live with lions and was friends with snakes."

In the memory of a man who made a snake inside out with one had!

This post is just for clarification purposes for myself. To remind myself that I am blessed. Blessed to have a lovely family that despite the crazy shit sometimes they go through, when it comes to me, it is all left behind. Blessed to have purest of friends that despite the complications in their lives, I am the constant part of it. Blessed to be me, with my bizarre way of looking at life that fails me one hundred times and raises me in one hundred and first.
So remember , even if you are returning back to one of the most stressful periods of your life, you are more determined. This time it is not about desperately grabbing  a low paid job, but to aim for something you really deserve. So for the love of god, act professional and don't think low of yourself.

Redemption !

Sometimes I have to remind myself that some birds are not meant to be caged. 

Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you 

that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live 

in is that much more drab and empty that they are gone. I guess I just miss you !

Truth

"The wisest thing I ever heard was to seek the truth. No one can tell 

you what it feels like to be in the presence of the truth, because it's 

different for everyone, but you'll know it when you feel it!"

That was pretty much how our conversation ended and it left me with an immense brain-fuck ! Some people are like those rare beautiful gems and you can't stop looking at the glitter of their soul ! It doesn't matter where they are from or what language they speak. They just make sense !

Epiphany !

Human beings... As much as we are all amazed with their brilliance, how do we know we would be less amazed if we were ants ? Or elephants ? or eagles ? Let's take the last one as an example. Eagles have wings and they know how to fly without consuming 12 liters per kilometer ! You may get over excited about what I just wrote and share it on your twitter or put it as your Facebook status, but for sake of argument, when a monkey jumps up and down and claps its hands, how do you know what he does is not just a similar reaction to an external event that triggers his excitement ? It takes a human to know there is no god for elephants! How do you know being an elephant can explain whether human beings have a god or not?

How well Rumi could have explained the story of life with the story of "The Elephant and the Blind Men"?

I wish my grammatical errors haven't contaminated my epiphany ! 

Quote of my days...

Of the Good in you I can speak, but not the Evil.

For what is Evil but Good tortured by its own hunger and thirst?

When good is hungry, it seeks food, even in dark caves and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dead waters

Gibran Khalil Gibran

My weirdest post of all

The other day on the way back home something quite strange happened to me. While I was waiting behind a red-light somewhere in Mississauga I randomly turned my head around and took a glimpse inside the car next to me. The driver was a woman in her 40s full of piercing having a cigarette with cheap clothes and in the back, buckled in child seat, was a little boy 4-5 years old looking around. At that very moment just a random thought, as weird as it sounds, came across my head that what kind of future awaits for this kid? And what if I could jump out of the car and get into theirs and yell "Go to school ! get educated ! Stay away from drugs!" would it actually affect his future a bit ? ( I know ! Weird ! ) Then I thought what would have happened if someone had done the same thing to me? Then ,  I remembered ! 

After a long time, I remembered that  actually happened to me when I was 4-5 years old. I remembered the time when I was sitting impatiently in a bank waiting for my parents to finish some banking stuff, a random guy, that I clearly remember him even now after 23 years  came to the bank with one of those famous Samsonite suitcases, wearing jeans and a white coat with sunglasses and massive beard. He looked weird enough and when he was leaving, all of a sudden he came to me and said "You are a smart kid, get educated, go to university! Leave Iran and have a successful life ! Just one thing! Stay away from Turkey" !!! Well, I did leave Iran, I did get educated, and unfortunately I forgot to stay away from Turkey and in my one and only trip there I got mugged and lost all the money I had ! 

So to make the story short, apparently, 23 years ago, I visited myself in my 40s in a bank and damn I was weird ! 

PS> OK now as a wet blanket, the whole thing can easily be justified by "Conscientiousness Algorithm" with a flavor of Sigmund Freud's theory of sub-conscience development !   

Canada Vs. Iran

Effective next week, Canada's embassy will be closed in Iran and all Iranian diplomats has been kicked out from the land of opportunities and the relationship between the two countries goes to a hibernate mode. It all started with a redundant comment from Nazanin Afshin-Jam (Wife of Minister of National Defense) regarding Iran being involved with espionage activities against Canada through Iranian-Canadians in key governmental/non-governmental positions in Canada which by itself was a significant accusation ! But you wouldn't really need for an evidence as long as a delusional country such as Iran who believes the whole world is united against them doesn't give a damn about the aftermath of comments as such !

There are couple of issues I can't stop thinking about:

·         Canada has had such a neutral, honest approach in most of the conflicts in the middle east. Specially in Afghanistan and Iraq. So what happens that all of a sudden, they turn more aggressive in compare to their peers such as France, Germany, Japan, and even England itself. I mean if the whole argument about "England's embassy was the first that got occupied and we're next" thing,  being considered as an honest statement (Which I highly doubt), only shows me how poor Canada's knowledge has been about the history of conflicts between Iran and England and the grudge Iran had held against England since the 1953 coup in Iran when the first democratic election in Iran was oppressed.

·         If Canada considers Iran as a potential threat for global peace, how come they close their eyes to the massacre Israel has raised for past decades against Palestine. I know I may sound like Ahmadinejad now but honestly let's face it. This country was the epicenter of turmoil and constantly in a very one-sided conflict against pretty much all the Arab countries namely Egypt, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Lebanon and Palestine of course and sometimes hand-in-hand with Iran during the previous regime. Everyone knew that during the 8 years war of Iran against Iraq during 1979 to 1986 that lead to near  a million casualties from both sides despite their hostile gesture against Iran, they were constantly providing military aid to both countries! I mean I can go on and on about numerous occasions at which Israel evidently has been violating the human rights  if that's what Canada really cares about !

·         Canada accuses Iran for supporting Assad's regime in Syria which I tend to believe this one is very true. I wanted to ask what Canada has to do with this but then I thought if cutting relations with Iran would help condensing the turmoil in the region, then why not? But what makes me wonder is how something like that would prevent Iran from supporting Assad's regime ? I mean one should think that which of the two  countries is actually benefiting from each other? Thanks to my previous work experience, I learned that most of the small-midsized companies in Canada stopped exporting their services to Iran after 2008 because of the trade embargos. So in economical point of view, if we disregard the near 50 million dollars that Iranians pay to Canada as part of their immigration requirements every year (which has been a gain for Canada and loss for Iran both in financial and resource point of view) the rest is almost negligible. In political point of view, Canada has always been accusing Iran for developing nuclear warfare and never seemed interested in finding a resolution like what France, Germany, Turkey, Brazil and even US tried. In social point of view, BBC Persian Service reported that some 150,000-180,000 highly educated Iranians emigrate from Iran annually, or about 450 daily. Although the stats kind of seem exaggerated but considering the fact that almost all of the immigrants are either highly educated students, skilled workers or successful businessmen in Iran, this shows which country is actually benefiting for that matter.

·         So to put it in a nutshell, when I gather all my conclusions together, I see no point in Canada's latest aggression toward Iran.  But that's not all of the story. Because if you think about the decision's impact on Iranian-Canadian citizens here in Canada, you would notice how absurd this decision is from Canadian government. Fluctuations as such lead to the most recent decision of TD Bank regarding blocking Iranian accounts in Canada! It gets even funnier when TD Bank avoids to apologize on a very, very obvious statement that repeats its claim and gives Iranian clients some time to provide explanations about major transactions in their accounts which I do find humiliating ! I don't even want to bring up the few incidents that I had for the past year with lower-class Canadians insulting me for my race or calling me terrorist or stuff like that.

Unfortunately what people do not see is that Canadian government has a reputation in making decisions to put itself against its own citizens. I can think of examples of how they treated Japanese citizens during the world war, Chinese citizens after the head tax in 1885 and Chinese exclusion act in 1923, and last but not least many examples about aboriginal citizens. So is this where Canada wants to go again? Or does the Canadian government thinks that 300'000 citizens with Iranian background and near 50'000 Iranian International students in Canada are not yet minor enough to be seen? I do hope that the government realizes the social impact of controversial decisions like this.

Family Trip to Chicago

Damn it was fun !

Dark Knight Massacre

So here is the scenario ... A 24 years old PhD student in the field of neuroscience that frankly is one of the most complicated topics I have ever encountered in my graduate life, dresses up as Joker (I'm not quite sure about this) and opens fire to a large number of people during the first show of "The Dark Knight" movie somewhere in Colorado.

It's funny (or better say sarcastic) that this state, Colorado, has witnessed numerous events as such for past decades including the very famous Columbine high school massacre on April 20th, 1999. This time, according to police investigation, our little genius has ordered 6000 bullets from an online store, booby-trapped his entire building with homemade bombs and police has not yet been able to get inside ! Just to get an idea how easy this is in United States, just watch "Bowling for Columbine" by Michael Moore:

Now thanks to this, police has occupied all the theatres and awareness about PhD lunatics with dyed hair is filling the American media (Looks like another south park episode to me!). So what is the aftermath? well,  thanks to another social panic attack , people buy more guns, take guns to the movies, and cry in front of cameras that "WHY ? WHY SHOULD WE AMERICANS BE THE ONLY VICTIMS OF VIOLENCE?" and then a suited up president appears on TV , and blabber about " ... Dear citizens, we are passing through the hardest times of our history and as always we should stay united ...BLAH...BLAH"

If you could only knew how similar those speeches are to the nonsense that is fed to brains of millions of Iranians every day ! Sometimes it makes me think that the leaders all across the globe have a private landline that they sync their bullshits with each other every night ! 

A New Life !

Well there are times I think to myself, man could things get any worse ! and I just get hit by something worse !!! It's like sometimes failures are just waiting for the rightest times to hit me. However, the purpose of this post is not to complain about how miserable my life can get and what not. In fact, in contrary, I want to show you the total opposite and perhaps you can learn from this and apply it for your own lives. 

It started with a miserable day that I woke up in a damp basement that has now become a territory in the house that the other family members don't usually intrude thanks to the co-existence pact that I signed with another living species called spiders. 
Same as every day, the first thing I did was checking my email desperately looking for an admission offer, interview opportunity, anything really ! Anything but the usual RSS feeds of LinkedIn about some stupid recruiters with backgrounds in history and art hiring for nuclear engineers or desperate job seekers begging for free internship opportunities or business owners who always complain about that LinkedIn is not a job-hunting  website (Damn I hate these people the most!). Dollar/Toman exchange rate didn't look promising either and the usual thoughts around weighting dad's business with the new Dollar value wasn't a good start for the day. 

Well... There I was in the lowest level of "Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs" where the only things that kept me above the base line was the fact that I could breathe.  

Being in such a state in your life, it only takes a text message from one of your best friends in New York saying that he and his lovely wife have decided to name their son Sina that can make you the happiest living thing on the planet earth.

You simply wake up, delete all the stupid LinkedIn feeds, dress up and head downtown with the "HOPE" to catch the professor at UoT you have contacted with earlier to convince him to be your PhD supervisor. 

The last thing you utter before heading out would be:

"You know what? Fuck Maslow! I can't let a triangle ruin my day!"

Shoot out !

 

Apparently there has been a shoot out at Eaton center with one boy down and 7 injured. My friend was telling me how horrible it was to be there seeing a 14 year old holding a gun running through people to get to subway while the police was chasing him. I didn't hear much of her blabbering as I was thinking , how does it feel to be that one boy who's dead now. Or the 13 year old who is severely shot. How it feels not being able to write the finale of your life, laying there lifeless while living people screaming around you, taking videos with their phones and talking excitedly with the reporters. 

It can be a very void and unexplaineable feeling unless you have suffered yourself. It can only be an entertaining topic to be covered on your facebook or twitter to get more "likes", or comments like "Oh my gosh, are you OK?" and this is the shallow society I am living in and frankly, I can't wait to get the fuck out of here. Shouldn't be that hard. I have lost my identity once, it's much more painless the second time.

Best Regards,

-S

PhD

Met with Gene on Monday. It was one of those enlightning moments when I told him I'm thinking about applying for PhD. Although I was waiting for an objection, in contrary he appreciated the idea and encouraged me to do so. It took an hour to hear his story to see life can be the same shit for everyone. Even for those whom you think are living their lives to the fullest. But it's all about how you confront it ! After visiting Gene, not only I was so determined that starting my PhD is a right decision, I also thought this is the biggest contribution I can make to my life. 

So PhD, here I come !