lets go to a Yalda party!
!برتم مهمونی ی یلذا
Monday, December 21, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
this has been a long november
So much love. So many hours. So many "hi"s. Too many emotions have stained this years november. i'm tired. i sleep rather early now. Im still having a hard time at school. Just trying to pull through. These breaks are nice. Like an oasis in some sort of desert. Or a coffee break on late night shifts. but i can't ever get too comfortable. I can never just let myself go on these kinds of breaks. Nope. I'm still thinking about work. I'm still worried about grades. Still picturing school in my head. Still feelin' bad about myself.
I've actually been forgetting to eat. I've never done that before. I went a whole day with out eating two days ago. i just didnt eat. i wasnt busy. i had a few snacks. no body cooked that day. i forgot to eat lunch today. i didnt eat much of break fast either. I find my self really thirsty all the time.
Texting and facebook is getting kind of lame.
I'm trying to get my hair long again. There's this CUNT that sits next to me in ap english. Her hair is so pretty and dark. It smells like Aussie or herbal essences. Its like this weird damp fragrant aura cloud around her hair. i want mine like that. my hair barely touches my shoulders. i remember how long my hair was. it would always float into someones face when they tried eating a sandwhich next to me. everybody liked it. everyone thought it looked better when i cut it last november. But now when i see long hair. It's like the symbol of sexy woman. like long hair = girl. Long dark, fragrant, shiny hair. Something my boyfriend could put his fingers in.
My hair grows rather fast. i'll probably wait a year and a half for it to get to my back. yea. i'll just take care of it till then.
I've actually been forgetting to eat. I've never done that before. I went a whole day with out eating two days ago. i just didnt eat. i wasnt busy. i had a few snacks. no body cooked that day. i forgot to eat lunch today. i didnt eat much of break fast either. I find my self really thirsty all the time.
Texting and facebook is getting kind of lame.
I'm trying to get my hair long again. There's this CUNT that sits next to me in ap english. Her hair is so pretty and dark. It smells like Aussie or herbal essences. Its like this weird damp fragrant aura cloud around her hair. i want mine like that. my hair barely touches my shoulders. i remember how long my hair was. it would always float into someones face when they tried eating a sandwhich next to me. everybody liked it. everyone thought it looked better when i cut it last november. But now when i see long hair. It's like the symbol of sexy woman. like long hair = girl. Long dark, fragrant, shiny hair. Something my boyfriend could put his fingers in.
My hair grows rather fast. i'll probably wait a year and a half for it to get to my back. yea. i'll just take care of it till then.
Monday, November 2, 2009
When you invite 30 people to your birthday party...
and only 5 show up,
it makes you wonder what you're gonna do with all that pizza,cake, and soda that your dad bought.
so you go driving at night with your best friend, and throw it all at your old elementary school.
and egg your own school, with 12 straight from the freezers.'
happy birthday me.
it makes you wonder what you're gonna do with all that pizza,cake, and soda that your dad bought.
so you go driving at night with your best friend, and throw it all at your old elementary school.
and egg your own school, with 12 straight from the freezers.'
happy birthday me.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
this autumn
Time's going by pretty quickly now-a-days. This must be how adults feel when they realize that they're not so young anymore. Time never used to slip out of my fingers like heavy, black, silky hair, it never used to drag me by my own hair either. Now i see hours dissolve in 5 minutes. I turn 17 tomorrow. That number looks bigger than me. Maybe i'm not a real 17 year old. i don't feel like a 16 year old anymore though. 16 looks a little smaller than me, not tiny, but maybe almost my size. Maybe i'm nothing. I'm not any age. Does anybody else ever have this feeling? I feel like im nothing, im not 16 or 17..not even between. Maybe i'll wake up tomorrow and i'll be all different, a growth spurt maybe, more cheek bones, maybe some depression. Are 17 year olds depressed? Or hot? Maybe i'll feel completely different tomorrow, maybe i'll do something different tomorrow. maybe some timed biological happening will happen, like at the exact time that i turn 17 i'm supposed to turn blue or my feet are supposed to get bigger. My hands do look kind of different from a year ago, 5 years ago, 8.
I think i should see a doctor. A psychiatrist. And a regular doctor. I never really recouped from my trip to iran in '08. I never really recouped this time around either.
Around 6 weeks into my trip, i started to realize that i couldnt keep up with everyone that i walked with. This was also true when i would walk with taller friends here in america, but it wasn't that i was short, i was actually out of breath, as if i had ran a mile. The sun was hot, my feet were hot, my body was hot. Too many layers for the arid summer climate of tehran. As i walked and puttered to lurch myself, like a racing horse, to the pace of my cousins or aunts. It was as if i was pushing through a thick substance, even the air was holding me back. The smog, we were walking through this dirt and gray every day. And as i pushed on i could notice i was holding my breath, and i felt the pain in my head from it. A whimper, a grunt, a hesitant inhale, my lips afraid to suck in all this poison. A perspiration, this discharge that was seen so much of. In the morning i would walk out with straightened, clean hair, when you'd touch it it would slide and twinkle, then in the noon i would blow in to my grandmothers home that smelled like death gasping for air. My face and hands felt suffocated, covered with a film, my bangs sticky with this. On the white bowl of a sink, i could see the film in liquid form, a yellow grey color, the carbon, the burned diesel, the dirt, my own fluids. What would they say; All those sweetly dressed gypsies who listen to Sasy Mankan and the soft skinned boys with beards and groomed eye brows who winked at me in the taxi, smiled at me on the street, blowing raspberries at me in the subway, telling the world how immaculate i seem. What would they say if they saw this sewage washing off of my face. In my room i would undress, pulling hot clothes off leaving them on the floor and throwing clean white shirts on. I would tumble on to my bed and feel my muscles, my skin, my arms and legs, my back, everything be pulled down by gravity, a settling pain. My heart, it was beating, gasping, not steady, sputtering, tripping. my head fell to the sight of my cloths, like an elephant tried them on, rolled off and left on the floor to sort of die. i felt like them. i sat up to see my grandmother in the living room, her feet would move inch by inch, and with every soft jerk, her dress would flutter in front of her ankles. she was bent over. she was always bent over. thats what old people do. bend over while walking, like they lost their thoughts on the floor.
I think i should see a doctor. A psychiatrist. And a regular doctor. I never really recouped from my trip to iran in '08. I never really recouped this time around either.
Around 6 weeks into my trip, i started to realize that i couldnt keep up with everyone that i walked with. This was also true when i would walk with taller friends here in america, but it wasn't that i was short, i was actually out of breath, as if i had ran a mile. The sun was hot, my feet were hot, my body was hot. Too many layers for the arid summer climate of tehran. As i walked and puttered to lurch myself, like a racing horse, to the pace of my cousins or aunts. It was as if i was pushing through a thick substance, even the air was holding me back. The smog, we were walking through this dirt and gray every day. And as i pushed on i could notice i was holding my breath, and i felt the pain in my head from it. A whimper, a grunt, a hesitant inhale, my lips afraid to suck in all this poison. A perspiration, this discharge that was seen so much of. In the morning i would walk out with straightened, clean hair, when you'd touch it it would slide and twinkle, then in the noon i would blow in to my grandmothers home that smelled like death gasping for air. My face and hands felt suffocated, covered with a film, my bangs sticky with this. On the white bowl of a sink, i could see the film in liquid form, a yellow grey color, the carbon, the burned diesel, the dirt, my own fluids. What would they say; All those sweetly dressed gypsies who listen to Sasy Mankan and the soft skinned boys with beards and groomed eye brows who winked at me in the taxi, smiled at me on the street, blowing raspberries at me in the subway, telling the world how immaculate i seem. What would they say if they saw this sewage washing off of my face. In my room i would undress, pulling hot clothes off leaving them on the floor and throwing clean white shirts on. I would tumble on to my bed and feel my muscles, my skin, my arms and legs, my back, everything be pulled down by gravity, a settling pain. My heart, it was beating, gasping, not steady, sputtering, tripping. my head fell to the sight of my cloths, like an elephant tried them on, rolled off and left on the floor to sort of die. i felt like them. i sat up to see my grandmother in the living room, her feet would move inch by inch, and with every soft jerk, her dress would flutter in front of her ankles. she was bent over. she was always bent over. thats what old people do. bend over while walking, like they lost their thoughts on the floor.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
مریم خوشال کجاست؟
مریم خوشال کجاست؟ کجا رفت؟ مریم را كه هروقت میخواند، هروقت لبخند کشیده، هرروز یاد میگیر، هرروز نور توی چشماش بود.
where is happy maryam? Where has she gone? The maryam who always was laughing, always smiling, always learning new things, always was light in her eyes.
where is happy maryam? Where has she gone? The maryam who always was laughing, always smiling, always learning new things, always was light in her eyes.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
my lonely pride
This country
This beautiful country
This dirty country
This old country
This dangerous country
It's hard to love this country
When everyone else around me hates it.
It's hard to love this country
When this country bites me back.
With trash in the streets, careless people, angry sweaty people, terrible leaders, injustice, force, a covering over my body, the sun burning my feet.
It's hard to love this country
Because when you're there, you're miserable.
It's hard to love this country
Because if you look, everything's a mess.
The smog layered in the skies, blood in the gutters, a place with no work, a crowded place, hot, tense, the sun pulsing in my eyes.
It's hard to love this country
When it's own people have left without a fight, and they look at me
with that same changed look,
and seemed to have forgotten what they are.
It's hard to love this country
When it threatens mine and everyone else with missiles.
I cry to the music of Sonati, I cry to the familiar sound of Farsi, i cry for the ever-tightening strings of my heart.
where is the music? where is the art?
where is the laughter? where is the tea and ghalyun?
It's hard to love this country,
The people i love are there,
The things i love are there,
The life i love is there,
My heart has been left there,
And i remain alone, with pride of this country.
I am alone with this,
dangerous,
old,
dirty,
beautiful,
country.
my iran.
This beautiful country
This dirty country
This old country
This dangerous country
It's hard to love this country
When everyone else around me hates it.
It's hard to love this country
When this country bites me back.
With trash in the streets, careless people, angry sweaty people, terrible leaders, injustice, force, a covering over my body, the sun burning my feet.
It's hard to love this country
Because when you're there, you're miserable.
It's hard to love this country
Because if you look, everything's a mess.
The smog layered in the skies, blood in the gutters, a place with no work, a crowded place, hot, tense, the sun pulsing in my eyes.
It's hard to love this country
When it's own people have left without a fight, and they look at me
with that same changed look,
and seemed to have forgotten what they are.
It's hard to love this country
When it threatens mine and everyone else with missiles.
I cry to the music of Sonati, I cry to the familiar sound of Farsi, i cry for the ever-tightening strings of my heart.
where is the music? where is the art?
where is the laughter? where is the tea and ghalyun?
It's hard to love this country,
The people i love are there,
The things i love are there,
The life i love is there,
My heart has been left there,
And i remain alone, with pride of this country.
I am alone with this,
dangerous,
old,
dirty,
beautiful,
country.
my iran.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
acc
This is a journal from my speech class. Just some humor to keep a teacher from being bored.
This class has a little effect on me. I do think about it in my spare time. I would like to contribute a little to discussions, but i don't. It's not that i'm shy, because i'm not shy at all. It just feels a little awkward to be walking into a class full of adults. In my whole life adults,(excluding teachers or counselors) or just strangers in general, didn't want much to do with me. I'd be ignored or just given a glance at. Why would these people want to ask me my name or any other question? What would they want to even know about me? Some younger kid. Then when i sit in the class room and i watch people talk and say things that are incredibly similar to what I hear in my class room at school. The same ignorant, funny, intelligent, opinionated, logical, educated, sweet, low self esteemed words and sentences that my classmates say. So i realize that they're just like younger people except with a bigger body, or have kids, or are getting ready to move out. They only have an experienced tone to their voices. I only wish i could just forget that they're adults and start talking with these people already.
Sometime last week, my boyfriend had said that he wanted to eat me. This is a Persian sweet talk,(We are Persian) and he always tells me this. Since I believe everything that is said, which is either a gift or some dumb thing about myself; honestly I'm not sure if he really does want to eat me or if he's just joking! Then I thought about that scale that was drawn on the board in my speech class last week. "Edible------not edible." In his eyes, I would say knowing the variables of this situation, I'm probably all the way on the end of the left side, which is Edible. Then if you count in my bones, my hair, my teeth, nails, and certain organs of my body which are inedible, because of that percentage of my body, I slide more and more to the right as "not edible." Then of course if this person loves me and he would never want me to be gone forever, I would be pulled all the way to the "not edible" side. So like this my brain has connected my speech class all the way to bloody Persian love. And I will say, I have never been so flattered in my life to be told that someone wanted to cut me into little pieces and proceed eat them raw.
This class has a little effect on me. I do think about it in my spare time. I would like to contribute a little to discussions, but i don't. It's not that i'm shy, because i'm not shy at all. It just feels a little awkward to be walking into a class full of adults. In my whole life adults,(excluding teachers or counselors) or just strangers in general, didn't want much to do with me. I'd be ignored or just given a glance at. Why would these people want to ask me my name or any other question? What would they want to even know about me? Some younger kid. Then when i sit in the class room and i watch people talk and say things that are incredibly similar to what I hear in my class room at school. The same ignorant, funny, intelligent, opinionated, logical, educated, sweet, low self esteemed words and sentences that my classmates say. So i realize that they're just like younger people except with a bigger body, or have kids, or are getting ready to move out. They only have an experienced tone to their voices. I only wish i could just forget that they're adults and start talking with these people already.
Sometime last week, my boyfriend had said that he wanted to eat me. This is a Persian sweet talk,(We are Persian) and he always tells me this. Since I believe everything that is said, which is either a gift or some dumb thing about myself; honestly I'm not sure if he really does want to eat me or if he's just joking! Then I thought about that scale that was drawn on the board in my speech class last week. "Edible------not edible." In his eyes, I would say knowing the variables of this situation, I'm probably all the way on the end of the left side, which is Edible. Then if you count in my bones, my hair, my teeth, nails, and certain organs of my body which are inedible, because of that percentage of my body, I slide more and more to the right as "not edible." Then of course if this person loves me and he would never want me to be gone forever, I would be pulled all the way to the "not edible" side. So like this my brain has connected my speech class all the way to bloody Persian love. And I will say, I have never been so flattered in my life to be told that someone wanted to cut me into little pieces and proceed eat them raw.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
describable
if some one built a bridge from my house to your house, even if it were on fire, even if it was filled with broken glass and i had no shoes, even if a million ahmadinejads were on that bridge, i'd still walk it to get to you.
--maryam
--maryam
Sunday, August 23, 2009
last day
this is my last day here, my last day of summer. School starts tomorrow. I won't make it for the first day. I'll have to go the second day.
I've been so happy here. Who would have thought that because of lack of family, i would be so miserable.
i owe most of my happiness to, one person though.
But then he connects to 200 hundred other people...
i won't be here for what seems to be a long time. 2 years later.
it'll be short if i don't think about it much.
I'll be here for winter. i'm coming home.
I've been so happy here. Who would have thought that because of lack of family, i would be so miserable.
i owe most of my happiness to, one person though.
But then he connects to 200 hundred other people...
i won't be here for what seems to be a long time. 2 years later.
it'll be short if i don't think about it much.
I'll be here for winter. i'm coming home.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
so fast
its unbelievable that i am going to school in 6 days...and i'm still on the other side of the planet.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
the worst year of my life
I'm in iran now. I've only got about 20 days left here. Been here since june 11th. It's been a long time. So much has happened to me in the last two months. I've grown up a bit. I had to choose lovers.
I had him for a long time, the first few months i had him he was golden and he had a godly charm. Like it was destiny, like all the little signs would come to me just proving again and again that i could be in love with this person for the rest of my life. Life was beautiful when new love was in my eyes. But then in those cold months,january,febuary, and part of march, i never heard from him. Not much of "i love you" not much of "fadat besham" i never heard "take care-yourself" and so i tried to hold on. To keep from going crazy, or maybe i did go crazy, i used a few men to pacify my loneliness. They were all trash, i lied when i said "i love you" but there was one. One who i liked, who would stay, who had some significance. Later i would find out this one was more like a parasite with a serpent-like charm, rather than a side lover.
The cloudiness of my loneliness tarnished my golden lover, and my false side lover only did more to cover my eyes from seeing how i had the best all along.
i had the best all along. He is the best in the world. i still have the best, and i'm so happy that i threw all that trash away.
I had him for a long time, the first few months i had him he was golden and he had a godly charm. Like it was destiny, like all the little signs would come to me just proving again and again that i could be in love with this person for the rest of my life. Life was beautiful when new love was in my eyes. But then in those cold months,january,febuary, and part of march, i never heard from him. Not much of "i love you" not much of "fadat besham" i never heard "take care-yourself" and so i tried to hold on. To keep from going crazy, or maybe i did go crazy, i used a few men to pacify my loneliness. They were all trash, i lied when i said "i love you" but there was one. One who i liked, who would stay, who had some significance. Later i would find out this one was more like a parasite with a serpent-like charm, rather than a side lover.
The cloudiness of my loneliness tarnished my golden lover, and my false side lover only did more to cover my eyes from seeing how i had the best all along.
i had the best all along. He is the best in the world. i still have the best, and i'm so happy that i threw all that trash away.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
what have i come to?
What can you think/do when your house is breaking?
What can you think/do when your lover is so far away and you're sexually frustrated?
What can you think/do when the place where your happy and where you feel like you belong takes so much to get to?
What can you think/do when you realize you might not be strong enough to continue this life?
What can i think/do?
with the worst year of my life.
This beautiful body, with this weak soul.
This beautiful body, in harms way.
This precious mind, poisoned with abuse
This precious mind, with memories that hurt
This self, my self
These eyes, my eyes
These hands, my hands
They hurt, They're dirty
They have Done, They have Seen, They have Felt
mi dolor, darde man, my pain
me.
What can you think/do when your lover is so far away and you're sexually frustrated?
What can you think/do when the place where your happy and where you feel like you belong takes so much to get to?
What can you think/do when you realize you might not be strong enough to continue this life?
What can i think/do?
with the worst year of my life.
This beautiful body, with this weak soul.
This beautiful body, in harms way.
This precious mind, poisoned with abuse
This precious mind, with memories that hurt
This self, my self
These eyes, my eyes
These hands, my hands
They hurt, They're dirty
They have Done, They have Seen, They have Felt
mi dolor, darde man, my pain
me.
Friday, May 29, 2009
nothing but exams now.
monday, tuesday, and wednesday i have exams. Today was the last day of school where i go through my shedual. I'm a little depressed at what this year has given me;
almost nothing.
almost nothing.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
my parents make me sedentary
I do believe that one day
I will be the type of person who doesn't touch their computer
In my world i am constantly sitting in front of a computer screen
Watching my life go by from the window behind me
I never get to go out,
I never get to drive when and where i want,
I have no freedom
And for that i hate computers,
I hate blogging,
I hate chatting,
I hate texting, and
I hate the sound of keyboards and mouses
Clicking and tapping
I hate all of it
For not being real
I want to Leave,
I want to get OUT of this place
Instead of typing with people and
Learning things through a screen,
I wish to have the real thing
I wish to finally be with my friends,
To finally see things up close and
Learn everything with experience,
I want to finally touch my lover
For the first time
I want to hold his hand,
Not this fucking mouse.
I want to look
Into peoples eyes,
Not at the pixelated letters and
Images that hurt my mine
I want to walk with a friend,
Not to the bathroom or kitchen
I want to feel the sun,
Not the stiff air in this house
I want to feel alive,
And not so sedentary
As soon as they let go of me;
As soon as they turn their heads;
As soon as they become tired;
I'll be gone,
I'll be out,
I'll be traveling,
My legs will be moving,
My eyes will be gazing,
My hands will feel every sense,
I'll talk to everyone,
I'll sleep with everyone,
I'll go out with with everyone,
Everyone who i could never talk to before,
Everyone who i was interested in,
Everyone who i was curious about,
Everyone who i saw
I WILL ;
I'll have my freedom in the hot sun one day and
I'll be driving a car on some road some where in the world
With my Lover by my side.
enough.
I will be the type of person who doesn't touch their computer
In my world i am constantly sitting in front of a computer screen
Watching my life go by from the window behind me
I never get to go out,
I never get to drive when and where i want,
I have no freedom
And for that i hate computers,
I hate blogging,
I hate chatting,
I hate texting, and
I hate the sound of keyboards and mouses
Clicking and tapping
I hate all of it
For not being real
I want to Leave,
I want to get OUT of this place
Instead of typing with people and
Learning things through a screen,
I wish to have the real thing
I wish to finally be with my friends,
To finally see things up close and
Learn everything with experience,
I want to finally touch my lover
For the first time
I want to hold his hand,
Not this fucking mouse.
I want to look
Into peoples eyes,
Not at the pixelated letters and
Images that hurt my mine
I want to walk with a friend,
Not to the bathroom or kitchen
I want to feel the sun,
Not the stiff air in this house
I want to feel alive,
And not so sedentary
As soon as they let go of me;
As soon as they turn their heads;
As soon as they become tired;
I'll be gone,
I'll be out,
I'll be traveling,
My legs will be moving,
My eyes will be gazing,
My hands will feel every sense,
I'll talk to everyone,
I'll sleep with everyone,
I'll go out with with everyone,
Everyone who i could never talk to before,
Everyone who i was interested in,
Everyone who i was curious about,
Everyone who i saw
I WILL ;
I'll have my freedom in the hot sun one day and
I'll be driving a car on some road some where in the world
With my Lover by my side.
enough.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Philosophic self
Recently a friend of mine told me that they were listening to my old songs. A year ago i wrote many songs with my guitar and the release of my thoughts and emotions. He was in shock when i told him that i haven't touched my guitar since November. I was a bit surprised too. So i pondered at this for a moment and thought about what was keeping me from playing guitar. I thought about what made me play guitar so much last year. It was my emotions, how i felt. At that it clicked in my head. I have been writing and making art all this year, and those have been the outlet of my emotions. And i had an idea; one person, an artist, only has so much creativity that he can only produce one thing of one category with that energy of his emotions. So what i'm saying is that the emotional energy that people have can only be spent on one of the things they do. I have three main talents. Creating and singing music, writing stories or essays, and creating visual art. To me writing i feel is the easiest of the three since it's directly describing and telling the reader about my thoughts. Art is easier, since it creates the image of my emotions and also may have a story behind it. Music more is difficult. I dont have the patientce and disipline to sit with my guitar and pluck a few strings to wait hours before i find a beautiful and catchy chord. Then i have to write what i'm thinking, then i have to make the words sound good with the cuts and goes of the chords; i have to multitast, which has always been challenging to me in my life. And by the time i reach my guitar after writing about my life and drawing and painting beautiful pictures if my thoughts and memories, there's nothing left.
It leaves me quite burnt out. like now.
It leaves me quite burnt out. like now.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
what i've been working on
this is my first painting. I put up a sketch a few weeks ago. Yea, i'm still working on it. It's taking me too long. need to finish it this week and start working on the SECOND PROJECT.
The Right to Cry
Manna
I don't feel like writing that much now, all my creativity has drained out all over this painting.
The Right to Cry
Manna
I don't feel like writing that much now, all my creativity has drained out all over this painting.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
extra credit
I have seen improvements in my sketches since i joined this drawing class. I love the fact that i must draw for homework. Why should i have to, when can i want to do home work? It's a perfect world, this art class allows me to do what ever i want. I can fail, or i can pass with flying colors all with my own actions! And i love finally being able to be in that sort of situation! Of course, in my academic classes there is some railing or i would call it "class handle bars" where your always being guided or told what to do and how to do it.
This was an extra credit project. You may only have a peek. I must say....
it's my best work yet,
This was an extra credit project. You may only have a peek. I must say....
it's my best work yet,
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
oh my god.
that is the only thing that i can say now. FEBRUARY sucked so bad, i hate that month so much, and March also. I will refuse to believe that i have allergies! but every day for the past few weeks i have come to school sneezing and coughing and sniffling and getting up in class like 20 times just to go blow my nose!
The work that is given me is at a low level but its every night that i receive homework or have to work on an art project and they pile up if i become lazy to do them. Oh goodness, i have realized recently that i only have about 3 months until my fantastic, lovely, rewarding, exciting trip to Iran! i cannot help but grin at the thought of that! i want to burst out laughing! I wonder if people sitting next to me in an airport or in the plane will think that i want to kill everyone because of how unsettled i would look. Of course i would think that my happiness would be spoiled by the filthy-ness of my surroundings. GOD i hate airplanes, they smell like marijuana and poop, and i always have a head ache after sitting in one for 16 HOURS.
What am i supposed to do in an airplane when traveling across the Atlantic ocean for longer than half a day?! i can't just be there...i wonder if running 3 miles a week and a challenging work out would help me with that before i would leave? it would make me alot hungry-er and you know those flight attendants...they will NOT give you second servings. I think it would be a good time to become anorexic because you would not have to eat anything..or you wouldn't want to at least. Well this time i plan to be very talkative to strangers. I mean i would agree that it is extremely awkward to sit next to someone for the first 10 hours with out speaking to each other, and then asking them to please get up so you can go use the toilet! It would be nice to make a friend on the way to your final destination. But it would also be awkward to say good bye to them only to see them again like 3 more times in the airport and possibly in the next flight.
I would recommend taking a HOT shower before and after traveling by plane.
The work that is given me is at a low level but its every night that i receive homework or have to work on an art project and they pile up if i become lazy to do them. Oh goodness, i have realized recently that i only have about 3 months until my fantastic, lovely, rewarding, exciting trip to Iran! i cannot help but grin at the thought of that! i want to burst out laughing! I wonder if people sitting next to me in an airport or in the plane will think that i want to kill everyone because of how unsettled i would look. Of course i would think that my happiness would be spoiled by the filthy-ness of my surroundings. GOD i hate airplanes, they smell like marijuana and poop, and i always have a head ache after sitting in one for 16 HOURS.
What am i supposed to do in an airplane when traveling across the Atlantic ocean for longer than half a day?! i can't just be there...i wonder if running 3 miles a week and a challenging work out would help me with that before i would leave? it would make me alot hungry-er and you know those flight attendants...they will NOT give you second servings. I think it would be a good time to become anorexic because you would not have to eat anything..or you wouldn't want to at least. Well this time i plan to be very talkative to strangers. I mean i would agree that it is extremely awkward to sit next to someone for the first 10 hours with out speaking to each other, and then asking them to please get up so you can go use the toilet! It would be nice to make a friend on the way to your final destination. But it would also be awkward to say good bye to them only to see them again like 3 more times in the airport and possibly in the next flight.
I would recommend taking a HOT shower before and after traveling by plane.
Monday, March 2, 2009
busy busy art art
yes, so i have finally decided to show what i have been working on for the past two months.
here is a poorly cropped portfolio by yours truely.
only a few sketches of this girl that has been in my head for a while.
i haven't decided what her name is. maybe Menna,
more figure drawing
i must go! i have a fat ass test tomorrow!
here is a poorly cropped portfolio by yours truely.
only a few sketches of this girl that has been in my head for a while.
i haven't decided what her name is. maybe Menna,
more figure drawing
i must go! i have a fat ass test tomorrow!
Sunday, February 15, 2009
R U OK?
I'm terribly sorry that i haven't put up the sketches from January. I should have time to do that later on today.
This morning i woke up and i felt like my head was about to explode, because i have this massive headache, and my nose is stuffed up, and i think i may have strep throat. But it's ok, because when ever i get sick or have some respiratory problem (it's not a chronic thing like asthma, but i say respiratory problem meaning that the cause of my sickness keeps me from breathing correctly, so i'm ok.) it's usually at its worst in the morning and as i gradually become awake i feel better but through out the day i always have to be sniffling and sneezing and of course an occasional cough but with some mercy, there is no pain in my body, unless i stubbed my toe or something (why does that hurt so much?!). I haven't been sick in about...4 months. Usually i can go a whole entire year with out becoming sick. But what i have learned in my health class is that being overstressed for a long period of time can start to ware down your body. i was like, WHAT? you can actually get really sick from stress? yes. And i look at the events and actions i make that are very stressful for me and i realize that is probably why i am sick now, of course i can't over look the fact that i sometimes eat off of my best friend's food and also that i'm so short some really tall people have to bend down and they get too close so they breath on my face to talk to me :\ heh you know i offer alot of gum because of that reason, HAH! ohh i made another joke about tall people. Since tall people are so tall they take in a different type of germ in the air than the people that are shorter than them! haha that's why i'm sick today!.......but no, really.
So events that have stressed me out:
Yesterday i had an art competition with students in the vicinity of my city. That's always really hard to go through, getting your art work set up, trying to find out why you did your art, and then having to talk to a JUDGE about it while your bull shitting through the whole thing when you explain what you know about art and personal expression, which is nothing! It may not sound hard but really it is. but anyway, i entered two art pieces in to the competition and got a gold medal for both of them. That is the best you could do, but the bonus is getting a gold medal AND being told that your artwork was so good that you get to compete against other artists in your STATE! and after that if you get a gold medal and win state then you get to compete in your COUNTRY! and then if you do win that you get to compete against THE WORLD! haha na i don't know about the world but there have been some national young artist winners.
I was really trying really hard to keep my cool through the whole thing.
i saw some very professional looking art! I couldn't believe my eyes with some of the stuff i was seeing! There was so much art my neck was starting to cramp up from looking at all of it, so after seeing all of that i decided that i should work on my next vase piece as early as this summer.
School has been very busy. only because i spent all my time working on the art competition.
I chose my classes for next year.
I am trying out for percussion marching band (only because of the Physical Education Credit) because i have always wanted to play the drums plus i get to go to all of the football games and i am also getting into a more challenging english and history class. Regulars just make me become lazy.
Not in any scheduled order
0. Zero hour percussion
____________
1. math
2. science <=core classes that i must take
3. english
4. history
____________
5. Spanish
6.Art
7. off hour
and i can just take my other art class at a community collage on saturdays (which means i need a car!) if i need a speech credit or if i want to go get a job for my off hour.
This morning i woke up and i felt like my head was about to explode, because i have this massive headache, and my nose is stuffed up, and i think i may have strep throat. But it's ok, because when ever i get sick or have some respiratory problem (it's not a chronic thing like asthma, but i say respiratory problem meaning that the cause of my sickness keeps me from breathing correctly, so i'm ok.) it's usually at its worst in the morning and as i gradually become awake i feel better but through out the day i always have to be sniffling and sneezing and of course an occasional cough but with some mercy, there is no pain in my body, unless i stubbed my toe or something (why does that hurt so much?!). I haven't been sick in about...4 months. Usually i can go a whole entire year with out becoming sick. But what i have learned in my health class is that being overstressed for a long period of time can start to ware down your body. i was like, WHAT? you can actually get really sick from stress? yes. And i look at the events and actions i make that are very stressful for me and i realize that is probably why i am sick now, of course i can't over look the fact that i sometimes eat off of my best friend's food and also that i'm so short some really tall people have to bend down and they get too close so they breath on my face to talk to me :\ heh you know i offer alot of gum because of that reason, HAH! ohh i made another joke about tall people. Since tall people are so tall they take in a different type of germ in the air than the people that are shorter than them! haha that's why i'm sick today!.......but no, really.
So events that have stressed me out:
Yesterday i had an art competition with students in the vicinity of my city. That's always really hard to go through, getting your art work set up, trying to find out why you did your art, and then having to talk to a JUDGE about it while your bull shitting through the whole thing when you explain what you know about art and personal expression, which is nothing! It may not sound hard but really it is. but anyway, i entered two art pieces in to the competition and got a gold medal for both of them. That is the best you could do, but the bonus is getting a gold medal AND being told that your artwork was so good that you get to compete against other artists in your STATE! and after that if you get a gold medal and win state then you get to compete in your COUNTRY! and then if you do win that you get to compete against THE WORLD! haha na i don't know about the world but there have been some national young artist winners.
I was really trying really hard to keep my cool through the whole thing.
i saw some very professional looking art! I couldn't believe my eyes with some of the stuff i was seeing! There was so much art my neck was starting to cramp up from looking at all of it, so after seeing all of that i decided that i should work on my next vase piece as early as this summer.
School has been very busy. only because i spent all my time working on the art competition.
I chose my classes for next year.
I am trying out for percussion marching band (only because of the Physical Education Credit) because i have always wanted to play the drums plus i get to go to all of the football games and i am also getting into a more challenging english and history class. Regulars just make me become lazy.
Not in any scheduled order
0. Zero hour percussion
____________
1. math
2. science <=core classes that i must take
3. english
4. history
____________
5. Spanish
6.Art
7. off hour
and i can just take my other art class at a community collage on saturdays (which means i need a car!) if i need a speech credit or if i want to go get a job for my off hour.
Monday, February 2, 2009
i love to write....about myself.
Untitled
When people don't listen to me it gets me really mad. When they say they'll listen to me and then they turn it into one of their own problems. Why people who know who i am, they know my name, they've known me for a while, but they don't talk to me. I hate that feeling. When I'm not with my friends and I'm by myself, the feeling of desperation, like i need to be with someone, like I'm afraid to be alone, that awkwardness. It makes me feel insecure, puny, like i can't handle life? Like I'm not strong enough to handle bitterness.
I look at freshmen kids and popular students whine to their friends, "No! Please don't leave! Forget about your parents, what about me? I don't want to be alone!" I roll my eyes and pity them. They're so weak. They can't handle being by themselves, they always need someone with them. They want to create artificial memories with so-called friends. And then i look at myself when i don't want to be alone anymore. How could i be so hypocritical? How could i be such a wretch? I feel like no one likes me, like no one's interested in Gray Maryam.
No body wants to hear my stories of Iran, no body wants to hear how my mind works, no one thinks I'm that cool or hip or colorful. All they can see is some one who walked out of a black and white T.V., someone who talks about the same thing over and over again, someone who doesn't smile enough, someone who can't talk correctly, someone who can't laugh, someone who's not intact like everyone else.
When will i meet someone who's like me? When will i meet someone who's gray like me? When will i find a friend who will be with me through rainy days and clear nights? Someone who i could never get tired of, someone who gets me, who speaks my language, who can help me with it? Is there anybody out there that hasn't smoked weed? That hasn't gotten drunk? That hasn't had sex? That's my age and won't ever ditch me for something else? Who understands my story? Who understands my hate and love? My dreams and my hopes?
And then i can only look in the mirror for someone just like that. I and only I, can understand myself. But then i stand back and see... I'm alone again.
Leash
I am so tired of people telling me what do to, what i can and can't do, where i'm gonna go, how i should do things, and what they think of my opinions. I need to get away. i want to jump out of a window, break into someones car, hot wire it, and drive far far away from all of these chains. Maryam do this, it's good for you. Maryam don't do it like that, you'll ruin it. Maryam you can't go there, i won't let you. Maryam shut up, i don't want to hear you anymore.
My parents, my teachers, my friends, people i just barely met. They all want me to do something, they won't let me do something, they want me to stay, they want me to leave, they want me to turn off my music, they want me to stay clean, to go get high, to do what they do, to try something stupid, to cheat on the love of my life?! All this influence, all this command, all of this control, i'm like a cheetah in a cage. How could you catch me? How could you restrain me? Can i run away? Can i say what i want? Can i be where i love? Can i be with who i love? No, not in real life.
Only the dark walls of my slumber can close me off, only dreaming and sleep can fly me away. Everyone knows i love to sleep, everyone knows they shouldn't bother me when i sleep. No one knows where i am; No one knows who i'm talking to; No one knows what i'm doing in my sleep, in my mind, in my own shell. My being, my essence, my very sole. Sleep is my shield, sleep is my curtain, sleep is my skin. I wish i could sleep for a week, i would go every where, i would talk to everyone, i would do anything i wanted that could damage the shell, my body. There are no limitations, there are no paper walls, everything you could ever want is there in your sleep.
Not a care, not a fear, not a worry in existence. But where i am now, my story, my fate, i must not indulge.
"I shouldn't oversleep...for my dreams will never come true."
Art in the next post....whenever i get to it.
-maryam
Monday, January 19, 2009
Break's done, finished 2 weeks into school, ART
So winter break is finished. I spent my time, drawing, reading, studying Farsi, i made a couple of international phone calls, and most of my break i was playing Wii and beating a really good/shitty game called OBSCURE: the aftermath. It's pretty weird. My 10 year old sister and i were playing, or rather she was watching while i looked up cheats on the computer, heh I'm such a cheater. Well for the most part it was a lot of fun. We would be screaming every time somebody died or some mutated collage student would start molesting a character. yea..first gore game we'd ever had. I'd say it does scar you for life a bit.
School's been okay. I've got new classes, or my classes have been moved around a bit so i was off to a new start again. I've met some new friends. They all know each other, but I guess they're like really popular since i should say who doesn't know these kids? They really like me, and the head of the group or whatever started talking to me because of how good i could draw on my reading log. (Also another piece of luck i got into getting to know him was that he had my mama for art class last year.) So when ever it's just me and that guy we're like talking about art and drawing. They always sort of embarrass me or make me laugh at myself or make really stupid sex jokes. They'll mess up my hair and then yell at the top guy "HEY! DID YOU F*CK MRS. GHAZI'S DAUGHTER?!" heh they do it for the Lolz. Another thing about these kids is that they've got all the nice cloths from American Eagle, Ambercrombie, Hollister, and their shoes, oh man don't even get me started! They're always wearing Basket ball shoes, and they're always talking about how much they got them for. They say $100-$200 for a pair of super awesome shoes! I dunno if their parents are like doctors or lawyers or they just shell out everything for them, but really how the F*ck do they get all that monies?
I've got some art for this month.
School's been okay. I've got new classes, or my classes have been moved around a bit so i was off to a new start again. I've met some new friends. They all know each other, but I guess they're like really popular since i should say who doesn't know these kids? They really like me, and the head of the group or whatever started talking to me because of how good i could draw on my reading log. (Also another piece of luck i got into getting to know him was that he had my mama for art class last year.) So when ever it's just me and that guy we're like talking about art and drawing. They always sort of embarrass me or make me laugh at myself or make really stupid sex jokes. They'll mess up my hair and then yell at the top guy "HEY! DID YOU F*CK MRS. GHAZI'S DAUGHTER?!" heh they do it for the Lolz. Another thing about these kids is that they've got all the nice cloths from American Eagle, Ambercrombie, Hollister, and their shoes, oh man don't even get me started! They're always wearing Basket ball shoes, and they're always talking about how much they got them for. They say $100-$200 for a pair of super awesome shoes! I dunno if their parents are like doctors or lawyers or they just shell out everything for them, but really how the F*ck do they get all that monies?
I've got some art for this month.
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