Where Will We Be?

I often think of how I will be remembered years to come, if at all. I'm sure it's a thought that passes everybody's mind since we all want to be immortal in a way; to live on through our lineage, or at least through memories. I think about the process of documentation, especially when it comes to my own name. There are so many varieties that I myself get a bit confused. On my passport it is spelled Banafsheh Eshragi Azar, but in Iran my last name would actually be Eshraghi Azar, with an "h". In school, I've always spelled my Banafshé Eshragi, omitting the "h" and the "Azar" and adding an accent aigu (why? I have no idea.) It started a long enough time ago that it's become the way I'm use to signing and spelling my name whenever I'm asked.

Original manuscript 

The point is, I think of how confusing it would be for a historian years to come. Not that I expect to be researched by a historian (I'm not trying to become anyone important in life), but for whatever reason if I were to be researched, he/she'd really have a field day trying to come up with theories as to why I have so many different spellings. It's similar to reading a poem by Chaucer or Shakespeare. The spelling of words change, as well as their meanings, showing how fluid language is with its continuous evolution. I wonder if the English we speak now will be difficult to understand for people 200 years from now, the way Middle English is difficult for us to understand now. These thoughts always fascinate me.

50 Shades of What the Fuck??

I've wanted to write my opinion about this book for some time now, and I know all of the hype has already passed and no one probably cares, but there are bigger issues to discuss within the realm of E.L. James' 50 Shades of Grey that I find worth writing about. When all of the excitement started about this seemingly sexually liberating novel, I didn't want to be left behind, so somehow I found the first novel of the trilogy online and I began to read. Luckily I'm a fast reader and therefore didn't waste too much of my time on it, although I could argue that any time spent at all is already too much.

I was appalled at the thought that an intelligent person would pay money for such an offensive book. Of course the girl must be an inexperienced virgin naively waiting to be devoured by, who could only be described as, a rich, manipulative, controlling, abusive vulture. How is this sexy again? What really got me was the inaccurate depiction of a BDSM relationship. BDSM is not about abuse and manipulation. Rather, it is about two experienced adults who know themselves sexually, and are in control of the situation, even when/if they are taking on a submissive role. This novel, on the other hand, did nothing but make domestic abuse "sexy" by romanticizing it. Oh my god... how hot that he wont let me out of his sight and gets jealous when I talk about my guy friends and decides when and where we will have sex because I am not allowed to have a life, or a mind of my own.... but at least he bribes me by flying me on his airplane because he's super rich....Are you fucking kidding me??

Not to mention that Christian's addiction to BDSM is constantly explained by a traumatic sexual experience he had as a teenager, which suggests: a) you must be fucked up to like BDSM (which is false), b) his controlling, abusive behaviour is justified by his past, therefore making it, not only okay, but appealing. Christian is described with this mysterious, "I'm really a good guy deep down inside" kind of bullshit, and Anastasia doesn't know what's going on with anything half the time, except for the fact that she's all googly eyed over him. Even if I were to forget how sexist and sexually misguiding the book is, I would never be able to forgive the horrible writing. Again, how are intelligent people reading this and enjoying it? It reads like a pubescent girl's journal. The amount of times Anastasia says "holy cow" or "oh my gosh" when she is turned on is enough to make me want to bash my head into a cement wall. Enough said.

I believe that any healthy sexual relationship consists of adults who have had their own experiences and know their own bodies and needs. It saddens me that a book taking on the veil of sexually liberating females of all ages, all around the world, presented a female character who is a blob with no back bone, and no sign of maturing intelligence. It also saddens me that different forms of sexual expression are never discussed in sex ed, when people should be educated in an healthy and safe environment, but completely welcomed by millions, when what is actually described in the book is an abusive relationship. Something here isn't right.

I hate titles

I've hit a brick wall. I feel like have so much to say but this god damn space bar doesn't work because I'm a shit disturber and I took it off my laptop thinking I could properly put it back on, so here we are now. I have to hit it so hard each time for it to work, that it slowly begins to bring my anger out. This. God. Damn. Space bar.

Besides that little mishap, life seems to be pretty good, especially since I've begun to connect/meditate once again. I feel more at peace with myself and my life for now. It's almost like I had forgotten that life could be fun, and not knowing what will happen could be exciting. These thought always used to excite me, but when it came close to actually living it out, it began to become scary. Now I feel like I'm going back to the way I was. A lot of small experiences have helped me along the way.

Going out and doing shit by myself has been helpful. After talking to different people, I came to the realization that sometimes we need to put ourselves out of our own comfort zones. It's only in these moments that we truly learn anything. Out of your comfort zone, you're more alert, more susceptible, more willing to listen and observe. It's a good place to be for improvement because, even though it's difficult, people survive it all the time and they feel better about themselves for it. So that's all I got at the moment.

To Love a Black Bird

He was sitting on a bench in the park

His favorite bench to sit on when it got dark

A chance to get away from home and her

A chance to escape and be alone from her

Surrounded by the silence of the night

Each crisp exhale made him feel light

He could look at the stars and the soft moon

Take comfort in uniting with them soon

But such a shame to have to say goodbye

Each night to this vibrant view of a starry sky

For it was on one of these escapades

That his restless heart, its decision made

Set on a black bird with feathers that embraced

The wind, and with its wide wings it graced

The wind, and as soon as he saw it fly

It was a love that he could not deny

The pang of his heart hurt his chest

From his heart, this black bird, took the best

And he willingly gave himself away

His soul to soar with her, for it wouldn't stay

She caused the breeze on his face 

She caused his knees to lose their place

And just as she had come with a single blink

She took off swiftly as she spread her wings 

A moment so quick, but it felt like a life time

He thought, "to love a creature that can never be mine"

To love so deeply that he could let go

Of the only love he'd ever know

Print by Nilou Afshar
www.nilouafshar.com

Connecting to Myself

I've recently started meditating more, except it's not really meditating, but "connecting". I used to go to these spiritual classes called "Erfan" and basically the concept is to sit for however long you feel it necessary and connect to your body and to the environment around you. There are different types of connections that aim to help you in different ways, and all I can say is that it's really helped me in more ways that I am aware of. Its effects aren't always shown right away, but present themselves to me in the way I find myself reacting to daily obstacles and the way I feel inside.

I've always been a rational person and I can analyze a situation for an eternity, but with Erfan, I've actually noticed a change that can't be described with words or with logic, it's just there. It happens deep within you and you don't need to convince yourself to be calm or forgiving or to love when you receive no love back, it just happens. That's the most amazing part of the whole process; it's effortless in a way. However, because it can seem so effortless, people find it hard to believe that it will have an effect on them, but it's all about trust and surrendering yourself to that moment.

The biggest contradiction I've always faced has been between my logical, practical mind, and a spiritual belief within me that there is more to people and to the world than meets the eye. With these classes, I've realized that sometimes the most sensible decision is the decision to let go of reason and to have faith. I think people come to that point many times in their lives when their faith in people and in themselves is tested. One story that pops into mind is for some reason or another my mom had kept some information from one of her friends and later when she admitted to doing so her friend replied, "I love you and I trust you, so when you decided not to tell me everything, I trusted that you had a good reason for it and I didn't question it." That always stuck in my head and I remember thinking "now that's love."

I'm still not that trusting, and I definitely can't say that I'm always completely forgiving, but I trust that, with time, I too will get there.