Shokufeh is... home

Shameless plug

If you're in New York tomorrow night, go see my brother Anis:

http://www.symphonics.info/

No one wants my blood *sniff*

Today I was told that I am permanently deferred from giving blood. So sad.

Until I left for college, I would burst into tears at the threat of a needle coming close to me. (I'm not exaggerating - I cried over a tine test when I was almost 18. This stemmed from an experience when I was 4 years old, being poked over and over as phlebotomists tried to get blood out of me. I still remember the trauma.

Then I went off to school and developed a sense of civic duty. There are people out there who need blood and I've got it. So I sucked up my fears and made a habit of giving blood every few months. In the years following, I was often deferred, due to anemia, or not weighing enough (at the NYU Blood Bank, you only had to weigh 100 pounds), or travel, recent piercings, etc. Since moving to Hawaii, I've only succeeded in donating blood two times, including today.

So, today, I screwed it up my future opportunities. They got my blood, they bandaged me, and then I felt a bit queasy. I thought about not saying something, but decided I should.
"Excuse me, I feel a bit nauseated."
The phlebotomists immediately responded with cold towels, smelling salts, instructions to cough.... Thank goodness they did. I've never felt like that.

What if I had ruined my 20 year record of not hurling? I guess it would have been worth it, since I'll never be able to donate again. However, I'm glad it didn't come to that. I hold out hope that one day I'll be large enough and hypertensive enough that a plummet in blood pressure will be a good thing. And then maybe they'll take me back.

Trip reminder for one day

Tomatoes are not my favorite fruit/vegetable (biologically the former, legally the latter), but this seems like a good time:

Tomatina Festival

Somewhere among my things is an article about it that I tore out of a magazine about five years ago. Maybe one day I'll experience the joy(?) of tomato pulp up my nose.

I love my dad

Dear Pop,

Thanks for continuing our routine of almost-daily calls, even though you are no longer alone at home.

Love,
shokufeh

.................................
Coming: My struggles with hair (not an entry about waxing)

Good stuff

This past weekend was a good one. Why?

1) It was a three-day weekend, as Friday was Admission Day. I think this was the second holiday of August. But for those of you who are jealous - just think, my next holiday is Labor Day, and after that, I have to wait all the way until the beginning of November for the next holiday - Election Day. This is tough for someone who has become accustomed to a holiday every few weeks.

2) On Friday, we went to the Made in Hawaii Festival, where Sam won the drawing for an opportunity to stand in a booth of flying money, where he caught $42 in 20 seconds.

3) I finished Ruhi Book 7. I feel compelled to do Book 6 again, as I took it five years ago, but I'm ready to tutor Books 1 through 5.

4) Three members of the Mojgani clan were reunited. My mom has returned from her two years of teaching English in China, my youngest brother is "home" from Minnesota, and my dad has a loud house again. Sure, I'm not there to take part in the festiivities, but it's nice to know they're together. Such Mojgani mass has not been achieved in New Orleans since December.

Parting is so sad

Dear Windows,

I will miss you more than you know. Our last few months together verged on sublime. After a year and a half of catching glimpses of your family members, from other people's doorways, while I was relegated to a small cubicle, I finally had direct assocation with you. How nice it was to have an office, with the two of you, a door, more space. I knew that we would have to part after a few months, but that doesn't make it any easier. I will think of you often as I sit in my new smaller, artificially-lit space.

Love,
Shokufeh

It don't mean a thing (if it ain't got that zing)

Today I learned that the expiration date on carbonated beverages means something.

I was craving the zing of a Diet Pepsi. But when I took a sip, expecting that zing, all I got was gently flavored liquid. Looked at the bottom, and it was expired. Shocking. Since they usually seem to expire years in the future. And I thought it didn't even mean anything, given all the chemicals. But I guess the chemicals have a shorter life than I thought, and start to lose flavor. Which made me question why I exchanged my drink for a younger one.

There's something creepy about ingesting a chemical creation after realizing that it's not as stable as you thought. But the zing called. Craving satisfied for a while.

Experiment

In pursuit of the common good and an answer to oh-my-gosh-what-is-that-sound?, I have set up a laboratory (the 5-syllable kind, not the 4) in my office. For the past week, at various times, I have heard an unfamiliar beeping coming from the mass that is my backpack/purse/various communication devices. Invariably, I open my backpack, take out my purse, remove all of the communication devices and study their faces in hopes that one of them will reveal themselves as the noisemaker. But none of them flash, or indicate low battery, and the beeping doesn’t match any of their normal sounds. So, I have decided to try to isolate the source and work from there.

Backpack: Makai Diamondhead corner, under desk
Purse: Makai Ewa corner, on top of cabinet
Work cell: Mauka Diamondhead corner, on top of cabinet
Beeper: Mauka Ewa corner, on chair
Personal cell: center of room, on desk

Above language unfamiliar? Makai is towards the ocean, mauka is towards the mountains. Diamondhead and Ewa are other geographic areas. Like in New Orleans, directions don’t generally make use of north, south, east, west.

In other news, my dreams last night were more weighty. I didn’t discover the cure to the common cold, and I don’t remember anymore what they were about, but I did feel good about them this morning

Update: My experiment was a success, and my laboratory is no longer. It turns out it was the pager. Once I isolated it as the pager, I kept pressing buttons. It responded by convulsing/vibrating. I changed the battery. Problem solved. I guess if I'd looked at the directions, I would have seen that the icon looking like a full battery means, "Give me a full battery."

In need of new dream topics

A few years ago, over dinner, my parents, brother, and I were discussing Britney and Justin, or some other equally unimportant and pop topic. I remember thinking that it was pretty cool that, despite being relatively intelligent people, we didn't have a problem with discussing such unimportant matters, and that all of us, spanning 30+ years, were familiar with the topic.

This morning I realized that I've become too involved in the unimportant and pop. I need to cut back on reading articles describing the Olsen twins' new apartment, and watching Paris and Nicole host the Teen Choice Awards. Last night, I dreamed that I wanted Mary-Kate and Ashley to model a necklace I'd made. But then Mary-Kate got too tired, and I had to carry her to her bed. It was a really long hall of bunkbeds, so I stopped to ask Paris where MK's bed was. This disturbs me. Must dream about more important things.

Inertia

The workday ends for me at 4:30. But I often find myself here after 5:30. At some point between 5:00 and 5:15, I somehow lose my momentum for leaving. Until Sam comes and collects me from in front of my office.

Another day without a detour to the gym.

I've switched my time zone to Central, in hopes of stopping the message about "malicious comments." But in Hawaii, it's really five hours earlier than the time on my entry.

Threads

The threads running between us all are something I've been thinking about a lot lately. Yesterday, back in Honolulu, I experienced yet another reminder.

I was sitting in an auditorium, waiting for an informational session to begin. Looked up to the front and saw an old friend. Someone I lost track of in early 1999. Someone I spent many hours with in the summer of 1998, in the Gambia. Someone who came up in conversation last week, on the same night another thread became apparent, while having dinner with another Peace Corps friend.

I'm used to these things happening in my Baha'i world. And in my public health world. And while this session was related to my job, and my time with Peace Corps was related to public health, this friend was on another track when I knew him.

While I can't always feel the threads, it's comforting to know they're there.

Have I ever told you about my worm experience?

I won't tell you one of my favorite scary-at-the-time-but-a-good-story-later stories right now, but I have to tell you the thing I discovered today:

Parasite Pals !

I wonder if they were developed by my long lost twin.

Diva = Yes

Last night, my friend and I passed a salon that lay claim to "The Waxing Diva." With a title like that, you believe it. We looked at each other and said Wow! Had we not been so hungry, we just might have walked in and pulled off our pants.

For better or for worse, I'm someone who holds on to people. I have friends that I've known since nursery school. I randomly email people from high school. I wonder about those that moved away during elementary school. I think about failed friendships and how to revive them.

Lately, I've been wondering what it would be like to see someone for the first time in almost ten years. Someone who hurt me deeply. Someone with whom my last in-person interaction was unpleasant, to say the least. I thought I would find out tomorrow night. But, instead, through a series of mundane choices, I found out last night. And it wasn't as strange as I thought it would be. Other than the coincidental part.

I'd forgotten the wonder of long summer days.
9:00 pm, and it's still not fully dark.
Love it!

Smiles from above

I'm in Seattle this week.

Yesterday, when I checked in at the Honolulu airport, I was told I needed to book it to the gate. I was running late (left home later than planned, slow traffic due an accident, long line to get through agriculture...), and I still needed a seat assignment.

Of course, the gate was the one as far as possible from the main terminal. I was running and huffing and sweating. (I looked at is as pretending I was on The Amazing Race.) When I arrived at the gate, I breathlessly said I needed to check in. The guy tried to wave me by, but I said I didn't have a seat assignment. I gave him my last name. He gave me a seat in first class.

"We're going to have to give you a seat in first class." Oh, bummer.
So nice. Good food served on/in/with real china/glasses/silverware. Huge comfy reclining seats. Attentive flight attendants. I felt a bit guilty, being rewarded for my tardiness. But that didn't stop me from sleeping comfortably.

So far, my only payment to the karma bank has been telling someone her zipper was open.