Sunday
Saturday
Wednesday
Monday
June 22nd, 2009
A letter by an Iranian woman, translated into English-
"I will participate in the demonstrations tomorrow. Maybe they will turn violent. Maybe I will be one of the people who is going to get killed. I’m listening to all my favorite music. I even want to dance to a few songs. I always wanted to have very narrow eyebrows. Yes, maybe I will go to the salon before I go tomorrow! There are a few great movie scenes that I also have to see. I should drop by the library, too. It’s worth to read the poems of Forough and Shamloo again. All family pictures have to be reviewed, too. I have to call my friends as well to say goodbye. All I have are two bookshelves which I told my family who should receive them. I’m two units away from getting my bachelors degree but who cares about that. My mind is very chaotic. I wrote these random sentences for the next generation so they know we were not just emotional and under peer pressure. So they know that we did everything we could to create a better future for them. So they know that our ancestors surrendered to Arabs and Mongols but did not surrender to despotism. This note is dedicated to tomorrow’s children…"
"Yesterday I wrote a note, with the subject line “tomorrow is a great day perhaps tomorrow I’ll be killed.” I’m here to let you know I’m alive but my sister was killed…I’m here to tell you my sister died while in her father’s hands. I’m here to tell you my sister had big dreams…I’m here to tell you my sister who died was a decent person… and like me yearned for a day when her hair would be swept by the wind… and like me read “Forough” [Forough Farrokhzad]… and longed to live free and equal… and she longed to hold her head up and announce, “I’m Iranian”… and she longed to one day fall in love to a man with a shaggy hair… and she longed for a daughter to braid her hair and sing lullaby by her crib…
my sister died from not having life… my sister died as injustice has no end… my sister died since she loved life too much… and my sister died since she lovingly cared for people…"
my sister died from not having life… my sister died as injustice has no end… my sister died since she loved life too much… and my sister died since she lovingly cared for people…"
Saturday
Friday
June 19th, 2009
courting, dissipating, & contrition(some colleagues are strangers and can get down and dirty)
Monday
Friday
Monday
Wednesday
June 3rd, 2009
- Tomorrow's my last day of high school
- Corresponding to the above, I feel excited, pensive, and immensely nostalgic
- I've been driving on roads, roads with cars around
- I've been plucking strings on Jule's guitar
- Twin Peaks
- I've been crying these past days for my own grief and for the grief and headaches that belong to a few friends
- On another note, I am excited to go on a roller coaster, for it's been too long
- Applied at stores in Montgomery Mall and Normandy Farm's retirement home
- Sweaty palms
- Sleep hunger
- Railroad walking
Saturday
Monday
May 11, 2009
This I Believe Essay-
On Wednesday I had a melt down in school.
That little piece of dark matter resting at the bottom of my stomach began to boil. My tea kettle belly was ready, my throat whistled, and steam floated from my eyes. A grade I had received on a final led me to sit on a stove and let of steam. Well, by the look of my warm boiled eyes, you could tell I didn’t perform to my standards. But this whistling belly of mine, that physical reaction, was in response to something much more overwhelming, a matter that had been repressed and consuming my last 405 days; the sudden passing of my mother.
As I reached the chair of my next class, I knew my kettle insides weren’t done heating. The steam came up again, and I quickly made my way over to the guidance office. As soon as my counselor shut the door, I whistled again with short gasps of air in between. The funeral’s podium I stood at dry faced, the corner I sat at after her burial, smiling with friends, that day, and the days of escapement through schoolwork and trying to keep busy, they were coming to a head. I was confused then on how to react and a defense mechanism had started, slowly doing more damage than good. The armor was just beginning to disintegrate and I was walking raw and in need to grieve.
That night I decided to look into therapy for the first time in my life. I had come to a realization of my loss and was ready to start tasting the gains of a new understanding of the gravity of this experience.
I believe in grief and turning the pain that comes with it into a reaffirmation and understanding of life. I believe resisting intense emotions causes them to linger, and hurt more deeply when they finally surface. Within time, my grief will give stability in troubled times, and I will hope to become a better person. And at the end of the day, I will remain aware and in control of that inner kettle ready to whistle.
On Wednesday I had a melt down in school.
That little piece of dark matter resting at the bottom of my stomach began to boil. My tea kettle belly was ready, my throat whistled, and steam floated from my eyes. A grade I had received on a final led me to sit on a stove and let of steam. Well, by the look of my warm boiled eyes, you could tell I didn’t perform to my standards. But this whistling belly of mine, that physical reaction, was in response to something much more overwhelming, a matter that had been repressed and consuming my last 405 days; the sudden passing of my mother.
As I reached the chair of my next class, I knew my kettle insides weren’t done heating. The steam came up again, and I quickly made my way over to the guidance office. As soon as my counselor shut the door, I whistled again with short gasps of air in between. The funeral’s podium I stood at dry faced, the corner I sat at after her burial, smiling with friends, that day, and the days of escapement through schoolwork and trying to keep busy, they were coming to a head. I was confused then on how to react and a defense mechanism had started, slowly doing more damage than good. The armor was just beginning to disintegrate and I was walking raw and in need to grieve.
That night I decided to look into therapy for the first time in my life. I had come to a realization of my loss and was ready to start tasting the gains of a new understanding of the gravity of this experience.
I believe in grief and turning the pain that comes with it into a reaffirmation and understanding of life. I believe resisting intense emotions causes them to linger, and hurt more deeply when they finally surface. Within time, my grief will give stability in troubled times, and I will hope to become a better person. And at the end of the day, I will remain aware and in control of that inner kettle ready to whistle.
5/16 Art Show Set Up5/20 Billy Elliot on Broadway in NY, Art Show Opening
5/21 Cézanne Show @ Philly Art Museum, St. Vincent @ First Unitarian Church
5/23 Nancy's Rehearsal Dinner in Brooklyn
5/24 Nancy's Wedding in Coney Island
5/29 The National @ Electric Factory
5/30 Alternative Prom Night
6/4 Last Day of High School!
6/9 Six Flags
6/11 Graduation
6/13 Grad Party
6/14 Craft Market with Whole Foods
6/17 Dirty Projectors @ First Unitarian Church
7/11 Punk Rock Flea Market
Sunday
April 26th, 2009
Within the hard rendering of self-consciousness upon watching Synecdoche, New York last night, I felt like I was going to vomit. However, this was not a bad feeling. Through deliciously surreal scenes, infections and diseases, much symbolism, and an occupied house that is in constant burning, hard topics of life are shared in complete honesty. Although a bit depressing and mentally exhausting, this film was personal to me, and was life affirming. You might hate it, but I think you should watch it none the less.
Thursday
April 23rd, 2009
- Bullets on my current state:
- With my return from my grandparents in Manchester, I have gained more knowledge on my grandparents past, distant cousins, and my mother's side of the family as a whole. The return has also created a curiosity about my father and his family. I feel that after my mother's death, I went into a period of confusion and dissociation, until which I am currently in the midst of getting out of. In order to help push myself completely out of this state, I think I need to become more comfortable in certain aspects of life, such as having a better understanding of who my family is and what role they play in my day to day life. Thus, it will soon be time to tackle part deux of my family exploration, and time to have a good conversation with my dad.
- My father was in my life until I was seven, and my uncle has been with me throughout my father's absence. My uncle represents more of a father figure to myself than my biological father.
- I’m tip toeing into recognition of my thrill. I now know what can make my back ache and my heels bleed. Continuous climbing of trees will result one day in a scraped knee. But that hold of branches feels good, and a tablespoon of peanut butter on wheat toast keeps me wanting more.
- Astronomy class and its current discussions on aliens and government conspiracy theories excite me. I can’t help but think of it in an existential way; human existence is unexplainable, we can choose how to live our life and create what is meaningful. That class is a nice little reminder each day.
- Underlying tones and feelings of others, close and far, aren’t as translucent to me anymore, they are thick and I can almost see them. Sometimes it is a good thing. When it is a bad circumstance, I get frustrated, and just want the thick matter to drip out.
Monday
April 20, 2009
Folie à deux (translated, "a madness shared by two") is a rare psychiatric syndrome in which a symptom of psychosis (particularly a paranoid or delusional belief) is transmitted from one individual to another.
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