October 11, 1988

A minor back story on this one. In my second entry, which I skipped here because it was mainly about John Lennon's birthday and how sad it was that he wasn't alive and it was pretty boring, I ended with the fact that I had been asked to the winter formal by a friend named Zack Grey. (Poor guy, I feel really bad that I can't remember him. I'm sure he was a super nice person and deserves remembering) So the saga continues...

     5th entry -
     Well today was really screwed. I was in a good mood this morning but Zack told S about the formal and S got really pissed. I meant to tell him myself today but Zack beat me to it. God I felt really horrible. (the word really was underlined three times!) For a while I thought I had lost S. If that had happened... I told Zack that I couldn't go with him and he said he understood but I still felt bad. Zack is my friend but I really care about S. I really wanted to start crying a couple of times. I have something this good right here in the palm of my hands (yes, one palm but multiple hands) and I almost screwed it up. I have to watch it, I can't lose S. It's too important to me! (Notice I say 'It' is too important to me and not 'He'. Apparently it was the relationship and not the person that mattered to me.) God! Why am I so emotional? (because you are a teenage girl my silly dear self) I wish I wasn't. Then things wouldn't be so hard for me in life. (oh honey, you have no idea. It just gets worse from here for quite a long while) OH HELL. From now on I'll just love S with all my heart and smile a lot. (I like the smile a lot part. Somehow that just adds to it)


The funny part of all this to me is that just 6 days earlier I was talking about Jesse and Frank and A and now I seem to have forgotten all about them. Good lord, no wonder I wasn't doing well in math. Who had time to worry about Algebra?

And just because I can.. the next entry.

     6th entry -      10-12-88
     All my life people have come and gone. Grandparents, teachers, friends, boyfriends (clearly plural), family, and strangers. It used to affect me greatly. First my Grandfather died and I hadn't gotten much of a chance to know him. At the time it didn't bother me much because I was only 5 years old and I hadn't seen him since I was 4. Now it seems to bother me a lot more than it should. Friends, people I've come to trust and care about, have left me. That always hurt. I am a very loving and caring person. I can be hurt more than I ever thought I could, by just one person. (where the hell is all this going?) The worst was always when a boyfriend and I broke up. I get so attached to people, I suppose it isn't good but I can't help it. I trust and love people so easily that they can hurt me by just turning their back. Lately I've grown accustomed to people leaving. It doesn't bother me as much but now I'm starting to be afraid again. 'What if' always goes through my mind. I have begun to wonder what I would do if S and I break up. I've really started to fall in love with him, or at least as close to love as I've ever been. (since last week at least) I know it should be the furthest thing from my mind but I just seem to think about it and then I'm terrified all over again. I kneed (yes, awful misspell here) somebody to lean on, security. I just like to be assured that I'm loved and I'm happy. I know I'll solve my problems someday but until then....
(the I changed to a different pen and wrote the following)
This last entry I wrote as though I've stepped outside myself and looked back on my life. (not really, it was all first person and in the moment idiot) It was weird seeing myself as somebody else would see me. I ought to try it more often. (oh please don't. Please)

As a teaser..the next entry starts with 'Something bizarre is going on'  I wonder what I thought was bizarre back then.

 

Oct. 9, 1988

Yup Ladies and Gents, there is more. After your wonderful reception of my last diary entry, I can't help but post more. Here is my 3rd diary entry. It actually says that. 3rd entry - (why the hell was I keeping count?) I skipped the 2nd entry because I went on and on about it being John Lennon's bday and it was really boring. The only highlight is that some guy named Zach asked me to the winter formal. But I sort of glossed over that bit. You'd think it would have merited a bit more attention.

     Well I have a new boyfriend. (bear in mind this is only 4 days after my last post where I couldn't decide between getting engaged and 2 other guys I liked or maybe even loved) His name is S (I did write his entire name but since I am friends with him on Facebook, I thought I'd save him and mostly me the embarrassment). I met him Friday and I went over to his house on Saterday (yes, I couldn't spell days of the week apparently). We kissed for about an hour and a half then I had to go. I babysat Kendra last night. (I have no idea who Kendra is anymore) Golly she sure can get on a person's nerves. I had one nerve when I woke up this morning and she got on it. Anyway. I really like S. Maybe love. (oh for fuck's sake, really Mitra??) He writes poetry too. He read me some. It is quite beautiful. So is he. Yesterday he told me I was beautiful. he was the first besides my parents and relatives. Even Scott never said that to me. I thought I love him but I suppose I did a lot of growing up over the summer and he didn't. He told me he loves me still but at the time he was together with Jenny. how anybody can do something like that is beyond me. I don't really talk to him anymore. I'm too tired to finish. (finish? It is a diary silly little girl. There is no end... )

And just for fun..here is the next entry. Titled 4th entry. Oct. 10 1988

     I'm writing earlier than usual but Neda and I were supposed to go to Vallco (yeah baby! Vallco, the place to be back in 1988) today but she went without me. I'm really upset. I was looking forward to going because I wanted to buy the piano notes for 'Forever Young' now I have to wait until somebody else wants to go. Maybe I'll take the bus on Sunday. If I'm not at S's. I'd much rather be with him. I think I'm falling in love or close to it. (here we go again) It all happened so quickly. I didn't have much of a chance to think. I'm not embarrassed to kiss him in public which I was with Scott and I really believed I loved him. S has just swept me off my feet. He's so much the gentleman. He's also a romantic. Just like me. I'm really happy about this whole thing. I was feeling quite negative for a while but now the whole world looks very positive for me. I'm getting along with my parents now, I'm in love, and I have everything I need. What more could I ask for? (how about some common sense?) So long as one has love thy have all they'll ever need, for love is the essence of life. (oh do shut up! Please!)
     School is going ok. Math isn't really hard but I'm not doing very well (who am I lying to here? Math was always fucking hard! I sucked at it!) I think I might be getting a C in there. I really wanted an A or B in everything. (who is this girl? Since when did I care about getting decent grades? I truly have no memory of this time in my life..) I'm trying hard though. (I highly doubt it) I have done all my work, I just don't do very good on tests. I try but I make dumb mistakes. I'm thinking of asking my parents for a tutor. (heeheehee, I said tooter. For those of you who see me often, you know I call my female dog's privates her tooter)  I'm really worried. I guess I'll just have to work harder. These days it seems as though that's almost all I do but oh well (um no, you pretty much only think of boys you nitwit!) So long as I'm happy I could care less how hard I work. Love does that to a person. Weird. I'll have to think about that. (oh yes, you go right on ahead and do that)

Stay tuned folks.. I skipped ahead and the 5th entry features a MAJOR life altering dilemma about choosing between two boys!

Being Mortified isn't all that bad

     Last night I was watching a show on Netflix called Mortified: Angst Written. I laughed and I cried a little bit but mostly I laughed. It was a documentary type thing about a show that is actually produced around the U.S. and, apparently, in Sweden. Go ABBA! It is basically, from what I understand, various people reading their teenage diaries. So rad. So very rad. Of course, I was inspired to dig out all my old journals, random 'poems', letters, etc. I'm a sentimental sort so there is quite a ton of it. I was going to go back to the very first one but then I realized that my Mom had given it back to me recently and said she had a good laugh reading it. Talk about mortified. I only read the first page before I wanted to find a small hole to die in. And since I can't find it anywhere, I'm guessing my mortified self hid it. So we are moving on to 1988. My first year of high school. I sure do hope the folks who produce the show don't mind me stealing the amazingly good idea.
     I'm going to just write word for word what I wrote all those years ago but I'll interject my grown up opinions, thoughts, commentary, etc. in parentheses which will often lead to rambling run on sentences but ought to be fun none the less. God, this is going to be so embarrassing...

P.S. some names will be left as capital letters only to protect the poor souls that were a part of my teenage life and in reality, to protect some bit of that poor young girls future self. Me


October 5, 1988

    Writing a journal is new to me. To have a place to write down all my thoughts and feelings will be nice. I've thought about keeping one for a while now but today I finally decided to. (well clearly) I suppose since Jesse is the biggest part of my thoughts these days I'll write about him. I feel as though I really love him. I worry about him constantly. (This was my first boyfriend from 5th grade. Was I seriously still obsessing about him?! Jeesus! And I worried about him constantly??) What will happen to him? He doesn't seem to want to do much with his life. He was doing drugs for a while (I'm guessing he smoked weed but back then, that was a big deal) but Brian has seemed to get him off of it but now supposedly he is selling them. (WTF Mitra? This is who you worried about?) I don't know if that is true but I wrote him a long letter telling him I still love him and he can always count on me. (Yes Ladies and Gents, a letter) I guess he's going to write back. I'm going to ask Kian if he can spend the night Saturday night. (My parents were on a month long trip to Europe at this time and I spent the week nights at my cousin's house but my brother, who was in college, came home for the weekends and I pretty much got to do teenage things that my folks wouldn't let me do if they had known)
     (yes, I wrote in paragraphs) The next thing on my mind lately is A. I love him very, very much. He has recently asked me to get engaged. (Yes, engaged. This will play out over time) I know I have to say no but how will he take it? I have torn feelings about it myself. I feel as though 14 is too young. (Ya think?) So many guys will be coming and going in my life for the next 5-7 years (5-7 honey? Try 20 years!) I can't be sure my feelings for him won't change. But then again, I do love him. (clearly I had a lot of love to go around) Why does it have to be so tough?
     Now I'm working on Frank. (Christ, did I ever do homework? Or eat?) I do like him. I can't go so far as to say love but I like him. How do I let him know? I guess I'll figure out a way. I always do.

SLFN (so long for now) (I was totally ahead of my time with the LOL and TTYL and ROTFL)


Stay tuned folks, I have a lot of this crap and it could take me a long time to get through. Beyond that, it will also likely inspire some other random ramblings from my head.

Discussing virginity with my father

So, I was on Facebook earlier and was inspired to write this by my stepson's grandmother's post. (Is that way too confusing?) It was a tampon commercial for little girls which sort of blew me away and I'm not sure if it is even real but whatever, it still made me remember this insanely awkward moment of my life.

Flash back to when I was about 15. I'm in high school, I've had my period now for about 4 years. I have had to always use these giant, huge, I mean gargantuan, pads because they are what my mother bought and put in my bathroom. At that age, in that time, a young girl did not go into Longs or Payless and buy her own stuff. First of all, there wasn't any way I was spending my allowance on that but second of all, please. The embarrassment is something I can empathize with even now. That isn't to say I can't buy my own now because I'm embarrassed, I just mean that I can so feel the embarrassment that would have come had I done so back then. Oh, nevermind. Back to the topic at hand. In our P.E. class (for those of you who are young and going to modern day school, that is Physical Education class) we had to wear these really short, tight, polyester shorts that hugged every curve. Maybe that isn't true but that is how it felt in my mind. On the days when I had my period, I used to dread with every bit of my being, I mean this was a source of true angst, having to put on those damned shorts and do cherry pickers in P.E. Any sort of bending at the waist really. It was all enough to send me into a state of such anxiety I would need at least the rest of the month to recover. I just knew that anyone with a last name that was alphabetically behind mine was looking right at the outline of this 1960's hospital sized pad wedged between my legs. My current car, a Mini, is smaller than this thing. I swear it.

I finally mustered the courage to ask my mom to buy me tampons. I had heard about them but never seen one. I tried my best to act all knowledgeable and confident about them when I asked but I'm guessing I came off really nervous. Sadly, the woman was living in the Paleolithic era. Also, much to my dismay, she felt the need to consult my dad with her limited knowledge and leave the final decision up to him. Um. W.T.F???

Then comes the day when we had all gone up to Berkeley to visit my brother in his college environment. The freeway speed limit was still 55 MPH at the time. Just a moment to reflect on that please. The stretch of the 880 between Berkeley and the 280 North is the time frame we are talking about here. Then the area between the 280 N and Saratoga Av. The time, in my memory, is still endless. As a matter of fact, it is still happening somewhere in some universe. I swear it. We had just gotten on the road, I'm a typical 15 year old impatiently waiting until we are home and I can go to my room and listen to music that illustrates the wretched life I believe I live, when my father pounced. Those of you who have been at the receiving end of Merdad's wrath are probably cringing right now. I know I am. He waits, he takes his time, then he comes at you all calm and disappointed as though his life is so much worse for having had to be your father. Catholics could learn a lot about guilt from Iranians. Back to the moment.

Here I was with at least an hour left in the car with them up front and me in the back seat hoping a good song would come on the radio. I didn't have a Walkman. My dad actually opened his visor so he could see my reaction when he said the following 'Your mother tells me you want to start using tampons'. Yes. He did say that. I promise I could never forget that moment. I've tried. If I could have thrown up, died, and disappeared at the same time it wouldn't not have gotten me far enough from that car. (I just realized that some of you might have had the type of  relationship with your father  that would have made sense of this, but no, I did not. Absolutely.) I'm not sure of the exact words I managed to squeak out but I think they were most likely something like 'Yes' and then in my head 'oh god why am I not dead yet? Please let a giant truck hit us now. Now. NOW!! God, you are an asshole.' Next thing out of his mouth was 'I thought you couldn't use those if you were still a virgin.'
Oh Jesus, really? There have been a few moments in my life where I have thought to myself 'What kind of horrible jerk was I in my past life?'. This was one of them. 'Baba, I am a virgin. You can use them anyway. They taught us that in health class.' Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Why isn't this over yet?? His reply (at this point things get kind of fuzzy because I probably did die for a few minutes) 'I'll ask Packtoman (his doctor, Iranian, also male) and I'll let you know.'

I am honestly amazed that I ever made it out of those stupid 1960's pads. There is a part of me that worries that my mom still uses them except for her being old enough not to need them and the fact that if she did, it would serve her right. Her punishment for deferring her lack of knowledge onto my father, his doctor, and my poor unsuspecting self, should be to have to use those things until the end of time!!

P.S. To all the young ladies out there, yes you can use a tampon when still a virgin. There is no way to make having your period less awkward when you are in high school so just tough it out. The bonus of tampons is that you can swim with them, they don't show through your shorts, they fit in your purse, they are made in many sizes, and if for some reason your mom wants your dad to talk to you about it... call me!

Interviews with Marty (part 1 of ?)

I recently was able to interview the newest member of the Warwick pack. It was an enlightening experience. Being able to see the life of a dog in Campbell is a rare treat as they are so often reluctant to divulge their life experiences. He was worried that he might have said too much so I did accommodate him in that I allowed him to review the article prior to publication and redact what he thought might incriminate him or alter his lifestyle.

Interviewer: So, let's start at the beginning, right?

Marty: The beginning as you see it or the true beginning?

I: You tell me..

M: Well, since this is about my current life.. Is that a ball?!

I: No, it is my phone.

M: Oh, looks like my.. Oh did you smell that?! I think I farted!

I: Can we talk about your life?

M: Oh, yeah. Sorry. So I came to my true home on April 1, 2013. My leg hurt and they wouldn't let me play with the other kids much. I really didn't understand what was going on but then they gave me this lovely spoonful of peanut butter and everything was nice and fuzzy. I slept for the next 6 weeks.

I: Did they drug you? Why did your leg hurt?

M: Drug? I promise I did not drag anything anywhere and I'm not to blame! It must have been the little white one. He seems to be in charge around here. Leg? What is a leg? Wait a minute.. who are you and why are you interrupting my dinner time?

I: You are welcome to eat and talk at the same time. We were discussing your leg hurting..

M: Oh yeah, there was this giant thing that made a lot of noise and it hit me. It was really quite rude as I was just trying to ascertain if I should pee on it or merely sniff it. It broke me. I didn't really like that and I though it was awful. Then these people put it all back together, I guess. My brain hadn't really decided to work yet. Still hasn't honestly. I'm busy growing. Hey..I heard a squeaky toy!!

I: No, you didn't. A duck flew by.

M: I think it might have been a squeaky. I best go check that out.

I: Marty, come!

M: I'm here! I'm right here! What do you want? A sit? I can do down too! How about a paw?

I: Your life. This house. You were saying?

M: Huh? Can we talk about bacon instead? I like bacon. I like steak too. I'm also pretty partial to those little tiny cheesy bites that my mummy sometimes gives me when no one else is looking only the little white devil can smell them on my breath and he comes running at me and ...have I peed recently?

I: Yes, I just saw you do so in the yard. On the tomato plant? Do you remember?

M: Hmmm? Who are you and why are you here? MOMMM!!! I want dinner!! Or breakfast.. or a treat, or..um... hey... WHERE ARE MY BALLS??????

To be continued...

At this point, our interview for the day was over. I was ushered out by the 'leader' of the pack and am hoping to go back after dinner time for another go. Dear readers, cross your fingers. Trying to get the truth out of an adolescent German Shepard Dog is quite possibly the most difficult but possibly rewarding experience of my life.

The last Persian New Year

     Happy New Year everyone! It is the Iranian New Year so don't worry about feeling confused. I'm not. We celebrated this afternoon at my Aunt and Uncle's house. My Ameh Sharzad and Amou Cyrus not my Aunt and Uncle. For this occasion it is only right to call them by the correct moniker. This was most likely the last big event at their house. It marks a time for so many of us. Or maybe just those of us who are sentimental but so many Iranians are so I'll include everyone in the collective 'us'. They have lived in this house for 24 years. My other Ameh and Amou, Shohreh and Ali, lived in the house next door at one time. It is this time frame that so many of us felt in our hearts today. We were all kids. Our parents at the ages we find ourselves at today. Early 30's to early 40's. They had young children but still wanted to feel youthful, know that they could still have fun. Here are two classic Eichler's side by side in Cupertino. Identical homes with mirror image layouts. The American dream as seen by so many, lived out in the 80's by immigrants. As our afternoon started, I mentioned to my husband as we parked the car that my other Ameh and Amou had once owned the house next door and that they would have this very same type of party with all the adults in one house and all the kids in the other. It was in those innocent safe days when leaving kids alone wasn't an issue, especially when there were larger numbers and the parents were just next door. There was no way some random drifter could waltz in and steal one of us, we were a team. We all felt it and we all felt safe. We laughed to day as we remember climbing on the roof to spy on the house next door, our parents. We made up storied about them that couldn't have been true. We watched Annie a million times until they canceled cable. Then the house was sold and they moved. It was ok, we still had the permanence of the house next door. But apparently times change. Without consent, without desire and without consult. Weirdly, it never occurred to me that they would want to move. They can't retire because they just can't possibly be that old. They are still the same Ameh and Amou. They all are. But after today, no more parties there, no more New Year, no more spying, no more memories outside of my head. Someone else will be allowed to smell the roses my Amou Cyrus planted, eat the tomatoes, sample the fruits. Or worse yet, they will tear the whole place down as so many have done in the neighborhood and build some awful new home that looks just like all the rest.
     I'll try to always smile as I drive by that house in the future as I have always done in the past whether or not my Ameh and Amou were home at the time. I know though that that smile will be tinted with sadness, discolored by a general dislike for whomever buys it. They might be nice, they might be making fun and silly memories there too but they will never compare to the ones we made. Never will their jokes be as funny, their hugs as warm, their kids as cute, their joy as vast. They can never compare.
     Thank you Ameh and Amou for the giving us a place to love each other and be such an amazing family for the past 24 years.

This weekend VS. Next weekend

So, there is a debate going on here at the old homestead. What exactly is considered this weekend and what is next weekend? The old ball and chain claims that 'This weekend' is any weekend that is closest while 'Next weekend' is the weekend after that. Obviously this just doesn't make any sense. This weekend is the closest weekend to the day you are actually living while next weekend is the one after that. In Matt's world, if it is Monday (which it is at the moment) then next weekend doesn't arrive until an entire weekend and then Monday goes by and then the rest of the week. In my logical, and clearly correct version, if it is Monday today then next weekend is the next one to show up. This weekend doesn't occur until at least Thursday but preferably Friday. This weekend is the one that is either about to happen or is currently under way. This weekend ends by Saturday night and at this point in time Next weekend can begin to exist. If you call me on Saturday afternoon and say to me 'What are you doing next weekend?' I'm not going to immediately jump 2 weeks away..I'm going to tell you what I'm doing the next weekend that appears on my calendar.  Right? No, I don't need validation on this one, I am right. It isn't my fault if Matt is one week off on everything. Try using dates dude! Preferably with month/day/year involved. I can't process the European version with the whole date/month/year. I can't figure out when I was born.