« February 2007 | Main | April 2007 »

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What has happened once again, that happened times before, How often must this happen, before it happens no more; How much can we handle, before we fall apart, What more can be done to prepare for a broken heart; A hardened heart can love no more, is this the
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I have a brilliant young artist friend who lives in Iran. He is married to a wonderful young woman, the daughter of famous artists herself, and the last time I saw the two of them in Tehran in March 2006, they were happily married and unbelievably in love. Over
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Here's a picture of "my beloved," beautiful ugly city, taken yesterday by Mr. Karim Arghandehpour, who is a famous and wonderful journalist, author, and scholar in Iran. Those of you who read Farsi can visit his blog at http://www.futurama.ir/
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The last time I packed boxes and suitcases, I was crying. I was reflecting on my long journey through life, packing boxes and suitcases for the past 28 years. Moving out of my parents’ house, moving to America, moving to Iran, moving back to America, moving back to Iran,
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On a Saturday in 1983, when we were still students, I was sitting at the table paying my bills, listening to the Iranian program on television. I heard them advertise a new Iranian restaurant, located in the Town and Country Village in Palo Alto, letting us know that they
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This is my handsome friend, Errol Mauchlan. I worked for him when he was Assistant-Chancellor at Berkeley, and we have maintained our valuable friendship through the years. He is a Scotsman who has lived in the US for the past 50 years. He has one of the sharpest analytical
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What is with Iranians and always being late to EVERYTHING? Forget about being "fashionably late," though even that phrase refers to undisciplined morons! Many of us seem to have no respect for time, neither ours nor others'. We show up late to dinner parties, appointments, and events. Iranian events
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Happy Farvardin! So, it took me three days, but here is a picture of my Haft Sin. I couldn't get the whole table in the frame, so some of my items on the edge are missing! At this stage, I would settle for mediocrity! I had my Nowrooz visitors
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Well, so, this picture is a little corny, but it's the best I could do, given my limited state of technology. I'll do better next year, I hope. I pray the following prayer for you and for all of Iran (Ya Moghallebolgholoob.........): “Oh, you transformer of hearts and emotions,
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After I waited for this for a month (really every time I see him, I think I have been waiting for this all my life), March 18th finally came and I went to see Hossein Alizadeh and his group, Ham Avayan, in a private concert in a home in
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I am running late to go see Hossein Alizadeh. I am so excited! My friend is waiting for me, and I'm already late. Just a quick note to say that this is a good night in a long time. I'll report on it later.
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I am cleaning our apartment like a maniac. Picking up, sorting, cleaning, dusting, washing, vacuuming, all the while complaining about the fact that there is too much work and not enough time to finish my summary khooneh takooni, set the Haft-Sin, and do all that I must also do
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With the time change, stress, and the big load of volunteer work I have accepted, on top of the ongoing stuff, I can't sleep at nights. I fall asleep at about 3:00 a.m., and turn off both alarms at 5:30 and 6:00 a.m., waking up late and more stressed
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Another typical day in my life. I get a phone call from my young friend in LA. She says after she told her boss that she didn’t appreciate his touches and close proximity to her in her office, she was called into the office of bigwigs yesterday, and was
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Leili: “What’s up?” Nazy: “I worry about the new house. I have to do it alone.” Leili: “So, what else is new?” Nazy: “What?” Leili: “You have always been alone.” Nazy: (: ♀
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Dar paye an hameh khoon keh bar in khak chekid Nangeman bad in Jan! Sharmeman bad in Nan! Ma neshastim o tamasha kardim. After all those blood dripping on this soil Disgraced be this soul, shameful this bread! We just sat and watched those crimes. (From Without You On
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My friend, Renaud, is a very interesting man. Son of a French businessman, he grew up in Tehran in the sixties and seventies. He attended Razi School. He speaks fluent Farsi, though he is really humble and never admits his full command of the language. He likes Iranian foods
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Do I want to jump over the fire? Do I want to impatiently check up on the sprouting wheat in the plate? Do I want to color those eggs? Do I want to clean the house and put out my decorative plates and vases full of tulips and fresias?
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She cries. I ask her what the matter is. She cries harder. She looks really Western today, chic clothes, nice boots, manicured nails, gorgeous loose curls of auburn hair all around her lovely pale face; yet she sounds so Iranian, not just the accent, but what she says sounds
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Mara bebar, omide delnavaze man Bebar be shahre sher ha va shoor ha Take me, my uplifting hope Take me to the city of poems and exhilarations Forough Farrokhzad
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Golab Gandom Senjed Esfand Banafsheh ..............
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I am teaching my son how to drive. It is an exercise in futility! For starters, I am not a good, experienced driver myself. Up until last year, I had always been driven around by others, seldom having to drive myself anywhere. Now, all of a sudden, I not
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Headache In the middle of the “organized chaos” that starts my day at 5:30 a.m. (jump out of bed, take a shower, put the tea on, start-up the computer, run through emails from Iran, run through the news, hurriedly exchange some instant messages with friends in European time zones, dry
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I wonder where I would be if I was still living in Tehran. Would I have been brave enough to have followed the others to the peaceful protest of this week? Would I have been arrested abruptly and violently, dragged through the city, and shoved into a crowded holding
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The wind blows my hair, tossing and throwing it into my face. The light and bubbly air of a Northern California March day caresses me and bursts of spring dive in and out of my little car, enveloping me in a love of spring, thousands of years old for
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Professor Lotfi Zadeh is a legend in his own time. He is the inventor of “Fuzzy Logic,” a theory now widely used in many disciplines and environments, particularly as it pertains to development and manufacturing of computer hardware, software, and robotics. Those who know this theory know that it
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I love Nina Simone. Something really deep and emotional and personal is touched and emboldened in me every time I listen to her. Among all her works, several collections of which I own, her beautiful rendition of “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood” (circa 1964) is one that I could
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I have 12 “Little Black Dresses.” I have 10 glittery “Party Dresses.” I have 8 pairs of “Party Shoes,” and 5 “Party Handbags.” I have nice jewelry, a Rolex, pearls, and diamonds. I have a whole case of expensive unused make-up. I have no place I want to go.
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