Thirteen Out the Door

The big finale of the Persian New Year is "Sizdeh Bedar" which translates literally to Thirteen Out the Door. Today, on the 13th day of the new year, Iranians assemble picnic items and gather family members for a day outside at the nearest park with preferably a river or creek or some body of water (I'll get to that in a second). As you have probably figured out by now, Iranians don't mess around when it comes to food. So the picnic consists of everything typical of an american picnic like sandwiches, chips, fruits and soda to all-out persian additions like noodle soups, elaborate pastries and cookies, rice dishes and stews, and grilled kabobs.

According to this site, the old school Persians considered thirteen to be an unlucky number, so on the thirteenth day, they felt it was necessary to be outside of the home and sharing the day with the hills, the fields and mother nature. Thus began the worldwide Persian tradition of spending Sizdeh Bedar at the park with family and friends, eating food, playing frisbee, soccer or backgammon and dancing to persian music blasting from portable cd-players all day. This day is also significant in officially marking an end to the Persian New Year festivities; the sofreh would be cleaned up and stored away, and the green sprouts ("sabzi") would be tossed into a river or stream as a symbol of wishing for many good things in the new year. Evidently, after two weeks, the green sprouts tend to turn slightly yellow and wilted, which represents sickness or problems. So on Sizdeh Bedar, you take the sabzi, tie a ribbon around bunches of sprouts and make a wish. Each ribbon tied around the bunch of sprouts symbolize one wish - you can make as many wishes as you like, most notably for a husband, which has seemed to be the most common persian tradition - then you toss the sabzi into the water. Don't you love all the symbolism and metaphors? That is why Iranians will never be direct in expressing themselves. That is why persian men and women are quite unique and complicated. And that is why - as a very direct and forward person - I am a complete anomaly in my culture *smile*.

Unfortunately, since Sizdeh Bedar seems to inevitably fall on a weekday, Iranians designate the previous or upcoming Sunday as the day to be out. For example, the Sizdeh Bedar for the Virginia Iranians was this past Sunday, and the Maryland one is this upcoming Sunday (Black Hills Park - a long time tradition in Montgomery County - which gets so crowded there are shuttle buses that transport families from their cars, parked along the road, to the park). The fondest childhood memories I have of Sizdeh Bedar is the socializing. I couldn't wait to see my friends - kids of my parents' friends - and we'd immediately stray from our families and go on people-watching walks around the park. Who's wearing what, who's dating whom, whose son is back in town on break and suddenly looks a LOT better than he did last year... Then the eye-flirting began. Groups of girls would mischievously eye groups of boys across the field - of course, never actually approaching them - and circle each other until it got tiring. And don't get me started on the food. Not only did you get to tap your own family's wide selection of food, but next thing you know, you would get sucked into eating with other families. I take it when my ancestors were coming up with all these symbolic traditions, they decided that the purpose of Sizdeh Bedar was to begin the new year with relaxing and fun times with family and friends, and getting fresh air while being one with nature. Not a bad tradition, eh?

What happens next, you ask?

My birthday, that's what! Ok, it's not technically part of the Persian New Year festivities, but shoot, it should be. However, let me note that Zoroaster's/Zarathustra's date of birth is acknowledged and celebrated on my birthday. So cheers to that. Coincidence I share a birthday with the first monotheistic prophet who was Persian? I think not.

Growing up, I really hated all the fuss about my birthday. I was the "baby" of my family - quite a distant age gap between my parents, siblings and I, so I really think they used this opportunity to party. "Let's have some of our aged 50-and-up friends over for Eid-Norooz, and let's throw in a cake and some candles in honor of Shadi's 10th birthday! Woohoo!" Don't get me wrong, I still made a detailed wish list of what gifts I wanted (perhaps the seeds of shamelessness began budding then...), but I mean I hated to be in the spot light, or to get any sort of attention for my birthday. I remember sometimes during the countless New Year parties we'd be invited to at my parents' friends' houses, I'd make sure to ask my mom beforehand "YOU GUYS AREN'T GONNA SURPRISE ME AT THIS ONE WITH SOME BARBIE CAKE, RIGHT? PLEASE DON'T DO THIS TO ME!" l'd even check the trunk of our car to make sure my parents weren't sneaking a homemade cake to some old Iranian doctor-friend's house with us. Then the year I was turning 13 - not a pretty age for anyone, folks - lo and behold, at the house of one of our closest family friends, where about 100 people were gathered for dinner and drinks to celebrate Norooz, I was bombarded in the massive dining room of their mansion with a full sheet cake with exactly thirteen candles and colorful iced flowers adorned on it. Everyone stood in a circle around the room that had Vatican-esque endlessly-high ceilings and chandeliers; while a handful of my pubescent friends - children of my parents' friends - eyed me and the gargantuan cake with grins on their faces because they were in on the surprise the whole damn time. Meanwhile I'm thinking, can I just get a slice of cake and make a run for it? No of course, not, as I glanced over my mom's persian script writing "Happy Birthday Shadi-dear" in pink icing on the cake. I had to wait for the 100 or so Iranians - most of whom I didn't recognize - sing me "Happy Birthday" in Farsi and English. I remember exactly what I was wearing that night, and exactly how thick my eyebrows were too. Which reminds me, I need to burn that picture.

Nevertheless, I am thankful I have those moments to reminisce about. These bicultural glimpses of my past - however embarrassing they may have seemed at the time - make me who I am today. And you all know I'm one proud mofo and I don't hide it.

Fast forward to my 21st birthday and on. I suddenly became a celebratory, spotlight-hogging, unashamedly festive go-on-wich-yo-badass!-birthday girl. Not sure what set in from that point. Yes, I can be absolutely undeterred, brassy and unabashed with my comments, jokes and observations about 99% of the time, but at least on my birthday, it's all justified. This is my day, people. Back up, I'm gonna dance in the middle of the circle now and I want a big-ass cake with all my friends standing around me grinning and eyeing me with love. Modesty? Humility? Let me think...mmm...nope, not today, thanks.

Oh and for those of you anxiously waiting, hang in there, more descriptions of the Persian New Year to come. I'm too busy with the bubbly right now.

March is kind of a big deal...

...at least in my household. I love love LOVE this time of year. Not only because my birthday is coming up. And not only because of the NCAA Tournament (which I'm not following this year and I don't want to talk about it). But it's a festive month for us Iranians! The Persian New Year (Norooz meaning "new day") starts on the first day of spring (March 20th) and there is a whole slew of festivities and traditions we follow in anticipation of the big day to ring in year 1387. Iranians and Afghanis follow the solar calendar officially, which begins on the spring equinox, and is more accurate than the Gregorian calendar which we follow in the states.

First, we do the annual "spring cleaning" which in Farsi the literal translation is "house shake-up." Because that is exactly what we do dammit. Growing up, during this time of the year, I'd help my mom clean the entire house from floor to ceiling, to the point where there wasn't a speck of dust left anywhere. We'd reorganize everything from kitchen cabinets to the linen closets to the tools in the garage. We'd clean curtains and rugs, polish the silverware and decorations. I never understood why I'd have to vacuum behind my bed when no one sees it anyway? When it got to the point of taking my books off my shelves to dust them, I'd deliberately start hacking and coughing and allege that the "spring cleaning" was exacerbating my asthma. Of course, this is also around the time I began obsessively organizing my clothes and sock drawers by color. Blame it on the yearly house shake-up. I never knew this but apparently, in ancient times, Persians believed that spirits of deceased families and friends were going to visit, thus triggering a frenzy of house cleaning for the occasion.

Then we shop for food. We started out at the normal american grocery stores...Giant, Mars, Superfresh. Then make our way to the persian grocery store. During the week leading up to the New Year, my parents would shop almost daily, realizing they forgot one last thing! Man, this was the best time of year - we had to stock two refrigerators. We're talking endless amounts of fruits, vegetables, meats, fish, rice, pistachios, nuts, dried fruits, sugar-coated almonds, an array of persian cookies and pastries and ice cream...

My mom had a ritual for the traditional persian new year spread that every Iranian family arranged in their houses a week before the new year: green sprouts had to be washed and soaked while she closed her eyes and prayed for good things to come in the new year, then she would carefully watch them grow in the sunlight by our kitchen window. Then I would be instructed to paint a few hard-boiled eggs with my own special designs, which usually consisted of the Iranian flag colors that I would almost always paint in the wrong order (green, white THEN red dammit). Goldfish were bought and put in a makeshift fishbowl. And the most distinctive memory of Norooz I have is the strong scent of the hyacinth plants we'd buy to bring in the spring season. Since I know you're all curious, I've included a diagram of the Sofreh Haft-sin (Arrangement of the 7 items that begin with "s"). Each "s" item has symbolic meaning to it. (I've stolen it from this article).

Persian Name	Definition	Description & Symbolism
Sabzeh	Spring Sprouts	Made from wheat or lentil this S signifies rebirth and renewal.
Senjed	A sweet, dry fruit of a lotus tree	The fragrant and blooming lotus tree makes people fall in love so it is natural that its fruit would signify love and affection.
Sib	Apple	A big red apple represents health and beauty.
Samanu	Wheat Pudding	Wheat and wheat products signify sweetness and fertility.
Serkeh	Vinegar	White Vinegar signifies age and patience.
Somagh	Crushed Sumac berries	This S symbolizes the spice of life. Some say Somagh represents the color of the sunrise and with the sun all evil is conquered.
Seer	Garlic	This medicinal S is a sign of good health.
Sekeh	Gold Coins	Wealth and Prosperity
Sonbol	Hyacinth Flower	Purple or pink hyacinth are common on the Sofreh and also represent life and beauty.
Gold Fish	Mahi	Gold Fish in a clear white bowl represents life and the end of the astral year associated with the constellation Pisces.
Ayne	Mirror	To bring light & brightness into the New Year
Sha’am	Two Candelabras	Candles large or small can be used and symbolize fire & energy.
Tokhm-e Morgh	Decorated Eggs	Symbolizes fertility. Eggs are painted by children much like Easter eggs are painted.
Ajil	Assorted Nuts	Iranians love nuts. They can be roasted pistachios, walnuts, almonds, and hazelnuts
Scriptures	Koran, Bible, Torah, Avesta or other Scriptures, or Poetry depending on beliefs	Symbolizes blessings and faith in the New Year. You can also place a Divan-e Hafez or other book of faith and knowledge.

My favorite tradition is the shopping for clothes and gifts. You aren't supposed to buy gifts for elders (other than maybe flowers out of respect), but for only those younger than you. Being the youngest of the family, I definitely reaped the benefits of this tradition. But best of all, I get to spoil my nieces and nephews. It is persian tradition to wear brand new clothes, right down to your undies, for the new year countdown. I didn't make up the rules, and I don't question them.

The last Tuesday night before March 20th is a persian holiday called Chahar-shanbeh Souri ("Red Eve of Wednesday"). Basically, you round up all your friends and relatives in a field somewhere, light a couple bonfires, eat some warm Persian soup, jump over the bonfires, and dance your ass off in celebration of the last Wednesday of the year. The significance of jumping over fire is you want the fire to take your sickness and problems from the prior year and in turn give you warmth and energy for the upcoming year.

On the eve of Norooz (which occurs at 1:48am EST this Thursday, March 20), you eat a specially prepared meal with your family consisting of smoked white fish and dill rice, then count down (literally, like the December 31st countdown), and hug and kiss everyone in the spirit of the new year. The phone usually starts to ring off the hook by then by relatives across the pond calling to wish a Happy New Year.

Oh, it doesn't end there...but I do. I will explain the post-new year traditions after Thursday. I still have some last minute shopping to do. Noroozeh hamegi mobarak! ("Happy New Year to everyone").

In the spirit of. . .

...International Women's Day (March 8th), I want to share one of my favorite poems. It's unfortunate that in the U.S., IWD goes completely unnoticed and uncelebrated, whereas in Europe. Africa, Asia and South America, women pour out in masses to acknowledge women - their accomplishments, their progress, and their struggles - every year on March 8th. It's even celebrated (quietly) in Iran! Come on, America. Get with it.

Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms

The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

-Maya Angelou

Are you serious?

When I first started this site, I did so on the basis of two self-imposed rules: 1) this would not be a venting/therapeutic/raging blog and 2) this would not be a daily journal or "dear diary" type blog. But the events that I have experienced over the past two days - that may make this post appear vengeful - are simply too blog-able for me not to share with my audience. Not only was I dying to tell people about the sheer humor and ridiculousness of what went down, but since I have received snide comments from the passive-aggressive person involved, he has lost any sympathy he may have wished to get from me, not to mention the slightest respect and decency from me NOT to expose his immaturity on the internet. Clearly, brother didn't know who he was dealing with. Am I being as childish? Probably, but this is too damn amusing.

I went on a date with a guy about two weeks ago. I really hate to date complete strangers but he was a little persistent and he seemed normal so I thought I'd give him a shot. At best, a relationship comes out of it, at worst, a casual acquaintance, right? To break him down to stats and numbers as most guys seem to do with girls is not my style, but I will do it only for brevity: he wasn't bad looking - probably a "7," he had an okay government job, he was well-traveled, kinda nerdy and wanting to pursue more schooling, BUT, as I later learned, his personality was a flat zero (in my humble opinion). We went to a shisha lounge for dinner and drinks on a week night. We talked for a bit and as much as I tried, there was no chemistry and really no common interests except for travel. I noticed he was a bit socially awkward, not comfortable with himself at all, and his poor attempts to joke got no more than a couple pity-chuckles. He simply wasn't a good match for me. I offered to pay but he insisted on paying, noting when the bill arrived "ooh! $100? That's so cheap!" We ended the night on a friendly note - no kiss, no hand-holding, no touching, nothing but a goodbye-hug. And I talked to him a couple times on the phone and online to see if maybe I was dismissing him too quickly. Nope, still zero personality.

For two weeks, I stalled seeing him. I didn't answer his calls. I was kind of hoping he'd get a hint. But I was still torn and my damn conscience got to me: should I give him another try? Maybe he was on an off night? Am I being too superficial? But by this week, I seriously was dreading another evening with him and I decided that wasn't fair to him at all. Why waste his time (or mine)? Since he anticipated meeting up again this week, I contacted him on Tuesday to give him only what I would expect from someone who just wasn't into me - the straightforward truth - and THE MOST UNCOMFORTABLE CONVERSATION IN HISTORY went as follows:

me: hey ____, i need to be upfront with you about something and i don't want to lead you on or string you along but at this point i just feel like this isn't going anywhere. i'm sorry, but i don't want to be disingenuous, and you deserve better.
him: *silence*
me: uh, hello? are you there?
him: yes.
me: umm. ok, well i mean it when i say you deserve better. i don't think it's right for you to get anything less than what you give...and i just feel like i wouldn't return the sentiment.
him: *pause* i see.
me: does that make sense?
him: *pause* well, rejection never makes sense.
me: i wish you didn't look at it as rejection. either something works or it doesn't. you can't force it, ya know?
him: yeah well i suppose everyone now is looking for the best. it's just hard to believe the stuff you're saying when i hear the same speech all the time.
me: *nervous twitching* um...well...i can't speak for anyone but myself...
him: so what is it about me that you don't like? you know, i just try to look for the good in people.
me: *anxiously shifting in my chair* uhh i'm not going to nitpick at you, it's not my place...i just can't explain chemistry...
him: yeah i don't really think chemistry exists. it's just an excuse for someone's uncertainty, indecision, lack of confidence and inability to take a chance. what ever happened to getting to know someone?
me: umm...yeah. ok well, i said my piece, i won't argue with you. good luck!! *dying inside*
him: i'm not arguing. i just want to talk about it. why didn't you just say something earlier?
me: umm, well we've only gone out once, and i wasn't sure but since i've gotten to talk to you....well...this is getting uncomfortable. i'm sorry. *pulling gun out of drawer...*

Skip to today. I get an email from Mr. Passive-Aggressive with the following:

"So you blow me off and now I have to pay off a hundred dollar credit card bill from going out. Gee, thanks. Seems like you used me for a good night out. Have a great weekend."

Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. That is the funniest thing I've ever received. Wait - he thinks that was a good night out? Pobrecito. Wait - didn't he insist to pay? Poor guy - he went on a date and had to pay! My friend suggested I send him a pack of razors with a note saying "I think you'll make the right choice." Even that is too harsh by my standards. No seriously, what the hell did this guy expect? I really did feel bad at the beginning: maybe the dude has had a rough couple of months. Maybe he has seasonal depression. Maybe he is just really desperate for a girlfriend....then the snide comments came out followed by the brilliant email. Now all bets are off, sucker. Really, the email is frame-worthy.

Evidently, I shouldn't have called him to let him down in the first place. This guy thinks I should have done the trail-off method (not answer emails/calls, avoid him at all costs, and never talk to him again) and that I deserved the reaction I got. Guys really prefer to have a girl disappear completely rather than her tell him upfront that it won't work out? And I thought their's was the gender with balls. Suck it up. Don't get into the dating game if you can't handle the possibility of a girl not liking you or *gasp* the possibility that she might actually give you the truth of not liking you. It goes both ways, ladies.

The ice on my heart and soul will melt soon, I promise. Spring is coming.

"Boys only want one thing."

When I was about 15 or 16 y.o., I accompanied my dad to the dealership for an oil change for his car. To give you a visual, I was not a cutesie-tootsie teenager. I was slightly a non-conformist, in protest to the girls in my high school whose lives were consumed with dating half the school, wearing short skirts and getting weekly manicures and pedicures. Also, I think subconsciously I was protesting the stereotypical, superficial Persian girl. Instead I wore jeans and polo shirts or preppy sweaters, watched college basketball obsessively, and refused to date the male losers I had known since elementary school (ew, that's, like, incest). I barely wore any makeup, and my figure hadn't adopted much shape yet. Thanks to my wild mane of hair and darker skin, I still had some redeeming natural appeal, somehow?, at that age.

I was sitting in the dealership waiting room, glancing over the Car and Driver magazines, while my dad was chatting it up with an old friend outside. It was a typical, mangy car shop waiting room with uncomfortable metal chairs and coffee spots on the carpet. The hyper-masculinity of the entire place was making me uncomfortable, considering I was the only female creature on the lot. Then in walked a semi-attractive young mechanic in his greased-up jumpsuit. The scene couldn't have been better scripted. He looked about 18 or 19 y.o., dark hair, toned arms, cavalier attitude - typical for a guy that age - and eyeing me curiously as he wiped the oil from his hands with a rag. "I think your car is ready." Oh..um...thanks. I couldn't look him in the eye. I turned around and saw my dad still engaged in conversation outside. "So what's your name?" I swung around, panicked that he was still talking to me. "Are you thirsty?" he asked as he threw some coins into the soda machine. Um, sure. . . I couldn't believe an older boy was actually paying attention to me. He handed me a coke and started to talk to me about his job, trying to joke to get me to lighten up. I kept looking back to see if my dad was watching. He finally signaled to me that we were leaving. I smiled and thanked my cute friend for the soda (and secretly for the vote of confidence he had unknowingly given me). Coke in hand, I took upbeat strides to my dad's car and got in. We were but a mile away from the dealership when my dad looked at my cherished soda:

"Vhere deed you gett coke?" From the waiting room...a guy at the dealership just bought me one. "VHHAT?" Next thing I knew, the car was pulled over and my dad was pulling a U-ey in the middle of a crowded street. My dad's thick black eyebrows were arched real high, the way they get when he's PISSED. His perfectly parted mustache - one that has earned him quite a rep - began to twitch. Oh shit, that's bad. He switched over to Farsi: "Who gave it to you? The mechanic??? The nerve!! Who does he think he is?? What was he saying to you?" I was trying to reason with him: Dad. It's just a soda. He just gave me an extra one...no biggie. "No beegie?? Shadi, let me tell you sumteeng..." And then he told me something that has, unfortunately, stayed with me.

"A man does not offer you something unless he wants something else in return. A gift, a drink, a ride, anything. If you take it, he will expect you to repay him."

Damn. I felt the air knocked out of me. You mean, he. . .wants. . SEX?! Just from buying me a coke? I was confused. We pulled back into the dealership, my dad grabbed the soda can, and beelined toward the waiting room where the poor unsuspecting kid still was, not realizing the wrath my father would bring with him. I couldn't hear anything but I saw my dad's arms flailing around and he was clearly yelling. Probably in Farsi, even. He stomped back to the car, mumbling in Farsi under his breath. I glanced back through the window at the defeated kid who was just as confused as I was. That was the first of many "I'm a man and I know how they think" lessons I got from my dad, and to this day it still echoes in my head. Not as strictly, of course. His traditional, old school influences have waned a bit over the years.

But I swear that is why I could never allow myself to accept a drink from a stranger. Blame the mustached, expressive Iranian man in my life who only wanted to protect his daughter in an unknown land.

Last Day of School. . .

I never thought I'd say this but I'm actually sad that the semester is over. Damn, it flew by - no wonder I'm aging rapidly (why is that?? When we're 15, time goes by so f'ing s-l-o-w-l-y but when you're in your twenties, 30 comes a knockin' real quick).

Anyway, to bring you all up to speed, this summer I was a step away from enrolling in law school (after building the resume for a couple years at a law firm, doing pre-law and mock trial in college, going through applications and the whole nine). I had a [moral] awakening and panicked. I realized I did not want to be trapped as a lawyer, nor did I want to incur 3 years of law school debt to study a field that was definitely not a fit for me. Long story short, I decided I would return to college for the fall semester and dabble in a few psychology courses. In order to even pursue a career in psych, I would need some more undergrad courses in psych. So technically I'm done with the minor course requirement and now I'm going through the grad school application process.

So just like family always asked you at the end of a school day when you were a kid, "what did you learn?" (back then I'd be like, shoot, I don't remember. Recess was good. Lunch was even better), I ask myself today, "what did I learn?" Well, um...

Everyone is crazy.

Seriously, no joke. I mean, I've only begun to scratch the surface of this clinical psych thing, but I can truly say with confidence that everyone has one form of a disorder or neurological deficit of some sort. I swear! Depression, ADHD, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Narcissicism, Mild Mental Retardation - it's everywhere. Man, I'm just getting started. Don't even tempt me with the DSM IV, I'll go through that thing and find at least two diagnoses for each of my ex-coworkers (you know who you are). I don't think everyone needs to be medicated - don't confuse psychology with psychiatry. But I am a big supporter of psychotherapy. I think everyone can benefit from it somehow. Also, I'm not saying that I'm perfect but we're not talking about my issues. I'm in the driver's seat, baby! This whole psych thing will be fun, dare I say, even a bit dangerous. Will I view the world this way when I'm actually in grad school?

Possibly. But at least I'm not a law student right now. Yikes, imagine the power trip I would have then.

Life and Death: A light topic to start the day

Over Thanksgiving break, one of my best friends delivered her second baby! She was in labor for about twelve hours - bless her heart - and little Arian Sina came out healthy and alert and looking a bit like mommy. (I found out her husband refused to watch the delivery and stayed glued to the upper half of her body - even though he's in the medical field - and he went to the movies the day after the birth. But that's a post for another day. . .) So here we are, a 27 y.o. beautiful, loving woman who just brought a second human being in the world. She endured over 9 months of discomfort, pain, nausea (and many other gross bodily effects I could mention, but won't) and her gift is a new, healthy baby boy (followed by 18 years of pure bliss - ha). It's unbelievable, I'm so proud of her.

An hour later, I got word that a family friend's 31 y.o. son died suddenly and unexpectedly in his sleep. I was stunned. I felt like I got hit with a mack truck - within a span of 1 hour I went from feeling elated and excited for a new baby to feeling like shit for this unexplainable loss of life. What the hell kind of world is this? My family was pretty upset - not only for the profound loss and the grief they felt for their friend, but also because their faith and spiritual core was completely shaken. My family's not religious by any means, but I think with parenthood comes a certain level of spirituality. I won't understand it until I have kids, that's for sure. But I can imagine just as how a new birth will shift your world spiritually, the loss of a child will turn your world and faith upside down.

It is the ultimate tragedy: for a child to pass away before a parent. It goes against natural law. As my sister said, you can spend your whole life doing everything right and carefully with your children, and their lives are still not fully in your hands. There are some things you just cannot control. Like with everything else in life, you just have to do your best, know in your heart you did your best, and just hope for things to turn out as best as possible. Sounds pretty lame, but for some people, this is probably where the need for religion comes in. I still don't have the answers - I don't really need the answers - but events like these are certainly a wake-up call. What's that saying? Take a moment to smell the roses? Well, smell the roses, tell your friends how you feel, tell your family members you love them, take more pictures, eat that second piece of cheesecake, stop stressing, and a million other "life-is-short" cliches, but you know it's true. These moments remind me to hold the reins less tightly and actually sit back and enjoy this ride called Life. That's all I can do.

Tick-tock Tick-tock

I believe that I am lucky in that I don't look my age. I thank my mom and dad for that. I like to believe I don't look a day over 25, which means I can shave a good 2 years off when I tell people my age 20 years from now (when those types of things are important). I also see my late-blooming in life as a blessing in disguise. I matured later than most people, I started drinking and partying later than most people, I have found my career niche later than most people, and as a result, I think that has kept me young at heart. But, damn, you can't fight biology and the ticking clock. No, I'm not talking about THE ticking clock. Hell, I don't even think I'm ready to adopt a puppy yet. Just keep reading.

I went dancing with some friends last night. Two friends were 26-27 years old, and the other three are 23-24 years old. The music was great - a mix of old school hip hop, some dancehall/reggae, some salsa, which means I was making full use of my legs, thighs, butt and muscles I haven't exercised in a long goddamn time. (My daily activities consist of sitting in class, sitting at the library and sitting at a laptop). I only had one drink because I wanted to focus all my attention on getting my groove on. The dancing started at about 1030pm and by 12am, I kept looking at my watch and calculating if I could make it home by 1am to take a hot shower, then immerse myself in a tub of ice. I had to fake-grin it the whole night to hide the tears streaming down my face. When I was "resting" every half-hour, my friends looked at me with pity in their eyes. I looked around: there are no other girls sitting down! I don't understand?! It was only 2 months ago I was dancing almost everyday for a dance performance class. What has happened?! I'll tell you what. I'm old, people. I can't fight my body's aging process. No matter how many breathing exercises I do to fight the asthma, how many creams and lotions I use to fight the wrinkles, how many sit-ups and push-ups I do to stay in shape, that won't change what's happening internally. The fucking clock won't stop, and no matter how good I think I look for my age, it won't change how old I feel.

Ok, the valium is kicking in now and the ace bandages are beginning to cut off my circulation. Talk amongst yourselves.

Red Flags

I couldn't resist sharing some recently-acquired wisdom: just a few things girls should be wary of on a FIRST DATE. Hopefully this will save you ladies out there. . .from a second date with the weirdo that displays any of the behaviors below.

1 - He picks a venue across the street from his apartment.
2 - The venue is a diner.
3 - When the bill arrives, you do the obligatory wallet-reach to show you're willing to split. He responds with "yeah can you pay your share? I'm totally broke."
4 - He keeps insisting you go back to said apartment across the street for "some beer and a movie."
5 - He picks his teeth at the table.
6 - He asks how many boyfriends you've had.
7 - He discusses his ex. Whom he lived with for two years. Describes it as "fun."
8 - He discusses his past girlfriends. Explicitly. That he broke up with over the last couple weeks.
9 - He stares at a girl across the room for half the night and "swears it's his ex" (another one).
10 - He has a lot of ex-girlfriends. Some lasted for a few days.
11 - He always walks ahead of you. Even in a crowded room.
12 - When making plans for the movies, he lists off the ones he wants to see. Then tells you to pick.
13 - He asks you for a compliment. For him.
14 - As the server walks away, he says "she's cute. "
15 - He has a rubber-necking problem when any female walks by.
16 - He chews his nails.
17 - He chides you for smoking shisha socially, but then whips out a pack of cigarettes.
18 - He talks about meeting your parents. This is the first date.
19 - He can dish a lot of teasing and joking, but can't take yours.
20 - He's not emotionally close to his family. Has a non-existent relationship with his brother. (Depending on what you're looking for, some girls may not view this to be a bad thing).
21 - He admits to having "a lot of baggage." Remember, this is the first date.
22 - He tells you he doesn't think you'll make a good [insert prospective career here].

(Yes, these are all from personal experience. Accumulated from only 2 first dates). I could probably list a few more but I don't want to discourage single people out there from dating altogether. Just remember to make a mental note of red flags, and ABORT MISSION early in the night if you have to. I'm now off to the nearest Gay and Lesbian Alliance Meeting.

Home Sweet Home

I really couldn't have asked for a better roommate setup than the one I have now. Two roommates who are both kind, considerate, independent and, most importantly, sane. However, only recently has it occurred to me - with the acquisition of the new, foreign roommate - that Roommate A (here first) and Roommate B (just moved in) could not be more different from each other. Roommate A is a sweet, all-American teacher who shops at J.Crew and makes her students rice-krispie treats and hand-crafted frames; she runs marathons and I've caught her actually watching some baseball or football games when I've come home; she is very passive but still functional, well-adjusted and very sociable on a normal level; she really had to be broken in during the first couple months that I moved in with my crass retorts and sarcastic jokes; she has a full-time boyfriend so she actually sleeps at our house about 3x a week. We've lived together for almost 3 years so by now we have a steady, quite-feminine friendship where we will occasionally have male-bashing sessions or exchange life wisdom and experiences with each other. Oh, did I mention she's a looker? Sorry, guys, she's not breaking up anytime soon.

Enter Roommate B. Being the semi-Type A personality I am, I took charge of finding the new roommate. Her and I would be sharing most of the living space, after all. I knew what I was looking for: someone who would communicate, have her own life, clean up after herself, and be financially responsible. (Not unlike what I look for in a man). Roommate B moved from China to the US at age 12, by herself, to go to a musical boarding school in Cali, and moved to the DC area after graduating college in Wisconsin. Even though she's a young fish, I figured her upbringing has made her grow up fast. She's a simple girl, fresh off the boat, can't cook for herself, and has an out-of-town boyfriend. She is still very naive and impressionable at 23, so I couldn't resist taking her under my wing (which may or may not blow up in my face). I was excited to have an "international" roommate to balance out the Americanness that was taking over our house. Within her first week at the house, I taught Roommate B how to smoke shisha and properly load a dishwasher; we ate sushi together; mocked American celebrities; and had long discussions about China. I was enjoying myself: interacting with A and B separately as we all lead hectic lives and run in and out of the house at different times of the week. I had a nice ying-yang balance in the people I lived with, each probably representing an aspect of myself. Then when the three of us were actually home at the same time, it hit me that Roommate A and Roommate B are complete opposites.

Although I find B's naivete endearing, I think it's shocked A everytime something came out of B's mouth. "I read somewhere that men think about sex a lot. Is that true?" Awww, honey, let me tell you. I explained the false myth that most American kids have heard since childhood, how men think about sex every 7 seconds/3 minutes/etc. but I had to clarify to B that, yes, a lot of men are driven by sex (I added that whether or not it's more often than women is arguable). Other innocent remarks or questions she's unabashedly made to us (you have to respect that): "What does 'preppy' mean?" "Are you watching the superbowl?" (During the Redskins/Patriots game Sunday afternoon). "Who are the 'Redskins?'" It could be worse. I just have a flashback to my own childhood, when my parents would pose such questions to my American friends and I, and I would laugh nervously and just explain American slang or pop culture. I totally feel for Roommate B, but Roommate A's facial reactions are priceless.

The goal is to keep the ying and yang apart.

20 Things I'd Wish For

*Disclaimer #1: This list excludes the obvious like world peace, eradicating poverty/racism/injustice/AIDS/etc, wishing for everyone I know and love to become millionaires and stay healthy forever, etc.

*Disclaimer #2: This list is strictly made up of "wishes" that are impossible or unattainable or likely to never happen. I've left off possibilities that could happen in my lifetime.

I Would Wish For. . .

1 - Palm trees and a [clean] beach within 10 minutes of DC.
2 - A speeding lane on the highway designated for women with very small bladders or severe pms cramps.
3 - To be serenaded by Juanes over dinner; to go out dancing with Madonna.
4 - X-ray vision.
5 - Tax deductions on shoes and handbags.
6 - My loans to be paid all at once by a generous and mysterious philanthropist.
7 - One pill that would get rid of digestive problems for the rest of my life.
8 - To collect plane-fuls of rapists, pedophiles, molesters, politicians and lawyers, and have them disappear mysteriously over the Pacific Ocean (sorry, lawyerly friends).
9 - To eat a countless number of mint chocolate-chip sundaes and strawberry-rhubarb pie without any caloric consequences.
10 - Thorough and precise genetic testing to predict any diseases I (or my loved ones) will get in the future.
11 - Cures for any of the diseases I (or my loved ones) will get in the future.
12 - The power to press "mute" if anyone is ever talking my ear off.
13 - Floor seats to every single University of Maryland basketball game for the rest of my life.
14 - To be Oprah for a day.
15 - To be a man for a day.
16 - To grade all of my professors or supervisors and have that affect their salaries.
17 - The ability to communicate with ghosts.
18 - The ability to transport to Iran or St. Louis within minutes.
19 - For an SUV that doesn't guzzle gas, fits all of my friends, and can fly. Made by Toyota, of course.
20 - To tell my [ex] boss what I really think.

To the Left, To the Left. . .

It's not hard to notice these days that I am the last standing single person among all of my friends. Seriously. Every. Single. Friend. Is married, engaged, or in a relationship. Even the friends (both male and female) who never had any desire to slow down and proudly fit in the "play on playa" category have settled down in a relationship! I came across an MSN article online - or a concerned friend sent it to me, I don't remember - that was titled "Are You Better Off Single?" It's nice to read from time to time while I'm licking the brownie dough from the bottom of the mixing bowl, or while I inadvertently eat a whole bowl of strawberry jello, or while Sex and the City reruns play in the background. . .anyway, here are the inspiring points:

Reason #1: You have a better body.
A recent Cornell University study found that women generally gain five to eight pounds in the first few years of marriage and unhappily married women gain an average of 54 pounds in the first 10 years. For the unmarried, though, the motivation to stay slim remains: “Singles look at themselves through the eyes of others and want to be attractive to potential partners,” says Susan Davis, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist in New York City, “so they’re still ‘working on themselves.’”

-Shoot, I've always had this body - in a relationship or NOT! *Sizzle*. Ok, who am I kidding. Note my eating habits in the paragraph above. Sigh.

Reason #2: You’re more likely to achieve great things.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you have the time, the quiet and the lack of familial responsibilities. In fact, your premarital motivation to excel in life may be biologically programmed. According to a study conducted at the London School of Economics and Political Scientists, male scientists who stay single longer peak in their careers later in life and tend to be more productive than their married counterparts.

-This is definitely true. I've procured nicer clothes and shoes over the years. I've had more time to work on my car and keep it new and clean. I guess I have truly discovered my calling and changed my career path. Of course, if I had a boyfriend to nag all the time, I wouldn't have been able to achieve all of the above.

Reason #3: You do less housework.
According to one study published in the Journal of Marriage and Family, women do less housework when single than when married. Men, on the other hand, do more housework when unmarried (that’s probably because there’s someone picking up after them once they’re wed…).

-This is bullshit. Maybe it's different when you're married, but I tend to clean the house more now because I entertain my married friends. Plus, I'm home more often and, well, cleaning is a great coping method for stress, you know. As for the men, the men in my family try to pull their weight around the house - and I can't imagine they were this obedient-err..I mean, mindful about keeping their living space clean as bachelors.

Reason #4: You can do what you want with your money—including keep it.
Go ahead: Splurge on that pricey moisturizer or that obscenely large plasma TV you’ve been lusting after. You don’t have to justify your purchase to anyone but yourself. Once you mix money with marriage, though, things change—and fast. According to a survey by SmartMoneyShrink Rap. “When you’re married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner’s debt.” magazine, 40 percent of women and 36 percent of men have lied to their spouses about a purchase. “When you’re single, your finances are your own,” explains Phyllis Chase, a Los Angeles–based psychologist and co-host of the radio show Shrink Rap. “When you’re married, you have to deal with different styles of spending and saving, and you may take on your partner’s debt.”

-Perhaps...but I'm broke. And when you're broke, the grass is always greener on the other side. . .

Reason #5: You have better sex.
Married couples may have more sex (approximately 98 times a year vs. singles’ 49), but singles have better sex. According to a recent study published in the British Medical Journal, married women are significantly more likely to report problems with their sex lives than single women. “People who are dating have better sex because it’s novel,” says Davis. “Married people have to relearn how to play. It’s natural for singles because that’s the nature of a courting relationship—they tease, they experiment, they explore.”

-The part of this I think is bullshit is that "married couples have more sex." Is this in the U.S. or in Brazil? I have heard that the sex wanes after marriage. Then again, I can see the possibility that singles have better sex. For singles, the odds of getting sex are so inconsistent that they probably try to make the best of each chance they get; they view it as the last opportunity EVER. So no wonder it's better. It's like a last meal on death row.

Reason #6: You’re better rested and smarter.
While snuggling up next to a warm body can be pretty fantastic, according to a survey conducted by the National Sleep Foundation, your bedmate can cause you to lose an average of 49 minutes of sleep per night. Sleeping two-to-a-bed just isn’t as restful as snoozing solo. Other studies confirm that singles generally get more rest — seven to eight hours of sleep a night — than marrieds, which enhances memory, mood and concentration, as well as allows your immune system to recharge.

-If you partied like a single girl as much as I do, you would definitely not be more rested!! Yeah baby!! And judging from my selection of men lately, I'm definitely not smarter as a single girl, either! Woohoo!! Ok who am I kidding, again. I hardly party anymore and I'm not sure if being better rested and/or single has made me smarter. More picky, definitely. I do admit, however, that I love sleep now more than ever. Must come with age. Not because I'm single, dammit.

Reason #7: You’re less depressed.
Although the media often perpetuates the image of single people being down in the dumps, overall unmarried people tend to be happier than their married counterparts—if you’re a woman, that is. One report by the World Health Organization indicated that married women, especially ones with children, have a higher risk for depression than single women, and researchers at the University of London found that single women generally have fewer mental-health issues. “Marriage, in many ways, seems to benefit men more than women,” says Davis. “For women, there’s more of a loss of self.”

-Brownie dough. Jello. Ice cream sundaes. Sex and the City reruns. Need I say more?

Reason #8: You have better friendships.
Significant others are a wonderful thing, no doubt, but friends count, too. And on that front, one study found that, when women get married and have children, they spend much less time with their friends—less than five hours a week, down from 14 hours. Singles, however, often have the greatest sense of friendship and community—which can actually decrease stress levels, according to researchers at UCLA.

-You know, I could agree on this. IF I HAD SINGLE FRIENDS. Oh wait, I have 1. But she's 8 hours away. So much for spending more time with friends as a single girl. Ok, I exaggerate. I do, in fact, feel like I've developed much stronger friendships. My girlfriends are an extension of my family and my support network. And I know I'm there for them too - as a relationship advisor, so to speak. Because, clearly, as the only single one in the group, I'm definitely the expert.

Reason #9: Your travel tales are enviable.
Marrieds take the most vacations, dominating the market with 62 percent of all trips taken, but singles arguably go on more interesting trips. According to the Travel Industry Association of America, singles corner the adventure-travel market, engaging in activities like whitewater rafting, scuba diving and mountain biking. Being single and relatively footloose certainly allows you to expand your geographical — and personal — borders.

-DING DING DING!! Finally, a point I can wholeheartedly agree with. My married friends and siblings go to a lot of cool places but, frankly, they don't have the convenience or flexibility to go to the much COOLER places I've been able to go to on my own. I think being single has definitely allowed me to explore an otherwise-dormant sense of adventure I didn't know I had.

Reason #10: You know yourself—and what you want out of a relationship.
You’re a better catch now than you were at 20. You may have signs of, ahem, experience etched on your face, but that’s OK because you’re more interesting and more self-aware. Not only have you grown as a person, but you’ve probably been through the ringer a few times in matters of love and now know what you want—and what you don’t. Experts say that bodes well for future marital success and may actually decrease the likelihood of divorce. “When people get married young, they often feel like the other person will complete them, and they have trouble moving past that Hollywood myth,” explains Chase. “But maturity brings so much, because if you’re able to communicate who you are and what you want, the better your chances of having a successful marriage.”

-If you don't know me, then you probably don't realize I'm poking fun at this article. I tend to be overdramatic at times for the sake of effect. Sure I have moments where I bitch about being the "only single one left" but it's mostly because I'm tired of sharing my friends. Kidding. I'm probably more comfortable with being single now than I ever have been and I wouldn't trade places with any of my taken friends for a second. In fact, I might be too comfortable - I've forgotten what it's even like to compromise, communicate, work towards something more than just yourself. I definitely know myself better now and understand what I want in a relationship. Just haven't found it yet. I wanted to point out how difficult it can be to be in the singles market nowadays.

And to that, I raise my glass of champagne (or sparkling apple juice because I drank my only bottle of bubbly all alone last night - HAHA) in salute to singledom. Now, it's friday night, this single girl has to get ready to go out [with her coupled friends]. Betta reco'nize.