home, my bed, my sheets- almost as old as i am though youd never know it to look at em- worn and comfortable like the time that passes when youre not paying attention; beige with earth tone floral patterns that say 70s more than 80s, and woven secrets my parents once took to bed
sanaz, whose name is engraved across my heart, and i dont care if im the only one who sees it. soon the whole world will.
solmaz, my backbone and my breath, my water and my wind. my most avid reader and most enthusiastic critic, its been a pleasure and a privilege. heres to doing many more things in public.
osito, jaat khalee
the gang of six, high five!
driving, driving, driving, driving, even the traffic; my car, the only pace in the whole world that is only mine, where i can sing however loud i want, cry however long i want, and leave the heater on long after its too hot to handle
tv, even the commercials
it kills me to say this, but the english language; to communicate again by translating thoughts into words, not by translating words into words in other languages, always falling short, trying to convince myself its worth the stumble if im learning
doughnuts, venti coffe, iced coffee, soy milk, special k, iroonie yogurt, mast-oh kheyar in a big bowl, yogurt and fresh strawberries with coconut and honey, veggies al plato at lalas and the #28 at versailles, pak sazee, east wind, palominos, whole foods, amandine and walking there as an excuse to leave work, sushi, compartes chocolates, tropical enchiladas from kay and daves, cheese enchiladas and margaritas from el cholo, pitchers of sangria at cha cha cha, insomnia and all the work i pretended to do there, enchiladas in general; especially good company, a few belly laughs and picking up the bill with a "you get it next time" just to ensure another meal with you
my cell phone- im not the kinda gal to pretend im glad to be rid of my phone. i may not answer it when im home, but i sure as hell miss the sound of that damn thing ringing and finding a surprising name on the caller id.
staying out late, and getting home later; taking off my shoes at the door so as not to wake my parents
said and parivash, i could write a book about the things in miss about you. i know you miss me, and i miss you too.
Jan 5, 2008
things i miss at 2:28am
Jan 4, 2008
have you heard the one about
my uncle tells a lot of jokes. many will inevitably find their way here.
someone once asked ahmadinejad: "why are you so ugly?"
to which he responded: "well, i wasn't born ugly, you see. when i was a baby, still in the hospital, someone accidentally switched me with an ugly baby. otherwise id still be good looking."
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