There is an endless debate over what will and will not happen, taking place in our society, our family, and no doubt our heads. It's too over whelming. Taken, there is a need to predict some future affairs, like war, stocks, the weather, and so on, but I am concerned with predictions like: will I become this or that?, what if I do or don't?, what will be made of me, and so on... And if you take a look, there is a center theme in those questions: the me.
I don't know if you will agree or not, but I've seen too much time and energy spent on these questions, by me and by those I've come across who were close enough to exchange honest thoughts.
I have two important questions:
What exact cost (in terms of time, energy, ...) is paid? and to what cause?

The below extract shows that this is not just my problem:

... and you, Marcus, you have given me many things; now I shall give you this good advice. Be many people. Give up the game of being always Marcus Cocoza. You have worried too much about Marcus Cocoza, so that you have been really his slave and prisoner. You have not done anything without first considering how it would affect Marcus Cocoza's happiness and prestige. You were always much afraid that Marcus might do a stupid thing, or be bored. What would it really have mattered? All over the world people are doing stupid things ... I should like you to be easy, your little heart to be light again. You must from now, be more than one, many people, as many as you can think of ...

– Karen Blixen (writing under the pseudonym “Isak Dinesin”),
from “The Dreamers”, from “Seven Gothic Tales”.

All work and no play!

If a Persian were to write:

All Work and no Play Make Jack a Dull Boy!

We would all think he has problems with his grammar.

Now if a native American were to write the same thing we'd say he forgot to type the "s".

Any way,

All Work and no Play Really Does Make Jack a Dull Boy!

هر آنچه بروید، نه آنکه بدوزم

اصطلاح یکی از دوستانم بود، آخر دارد می رود ینگ دنیا و من دلم می گیرد.
روز اول که دیدمش یکم دبیرستان بود. من وارد مدرسه جدید شده بودم و او از قبل آن جا بود. از تازه واردها، یکی گویی دنبال دشمن بگردد از شاگرد اولشان پرسید و آن که جوابش را داد به دوست من اشاره کرد. یادم هست وقتی دیدمش با خودم گفتم بیشتر از این چیزی است که به آن خلاصه اش کردند و صد البته همین طور بود.
نوشتن این ها کمی سخت است چون مدتی هست دستم نمی رود که بنویسم و هم چون نوشتن این ها سخت است.
دبیرستان که تمام شد پی دانشگاه های خودمان رفتیم اما می نوشت و می نوشتم و این اصطلاح از میان آن نوشته ها در یادم مانده. یک سال و اندی بعد دوباره هم دانشگاهی شدیم و دیگر نوشتن آن معنی قبلی را نداشت وخوب طبیعتا واماند.
روز اول در دانشگاه جدید دانشجوها سینی های غذا را پی هم چیده بودند روی زمین و اعتصابی بود برای خودش. ترم بعدش هم اتاقی شدیم در 205 با سعید و مرتضی و کمی بعدتر زلف و زیرنویس که دیگر زلف را ندیده ام اما زیرنویس هفته پیش در خوابگاه بود.
من نیم هم اتاقی دوستانم بودم چه بر خلاف آنان من عادت برگشتن آخر هفته به خانه را از دست ندادم، اما 205 برکات خودش را داشت که قبلا گفته ام. از میان خاطرات 205، گوش کردن به سیر، و دیدن فیلم های زیاد و صحبت های نیمه فلسفی مان را یادم هست.
یک بار دیدم به دیوار اتاق با خط نستعلیق بیتی نوشته و به نظرم درست نبود. بعدتر دیدم دیوار به خط او دبوارترست و تناقض جالبی بود اما چیزی نگفتم چون به نظرم درست نبود.
همه اش را نمی گویم، چون برای من مهم است. گاهی نوار کاستی به هم می دادیم. یکی شان بود که خیلی دوست داشتم و در آن ناظری از زبان نیما و زبان دلم می خواند که:
گرم یاد آوری یا نه،
من از یادت نمی کاهم،
تو را من چشم در راهم.

For the better

After a very long time I think I've found the heart to write again. A lot of things have changed in my life, and all to the better I am happy to say. Yet what makes me most happy is that I feel change in myself as a human being, change that I did not try to bring about, that I am not responsible for, that I don't know whether it is for good or not, but change that gives me the feeling of great vitality and that's what is driving me to write again.
Till next time.

A Pigeon

Today, while watching a pigeon drink from a pool, I realized something. I'll describe what I saw and what went through my mind.
The Pigeon:
The pigeon, stood beside the pool, took very quick looks around, dipped it's head into water for a fraction of a second, took it out, took some more cautious looks, then dipped it's head in the pool for about a second, then quickly flied away.
Me:
If I was to have so much anxiety every time I drank water, life wouldn't be worth it. Oh! Maybe the pigeon doesn't have that anxiety, and it's just how I see it. Maybe one can take cautious measures, yet not be scared, not have any anxiety.

So all this time I'm trying to focus on what I wanted to write here and I can't help thinking that when ever I have something to say, and it's important for me, I can't login to the site, and now that I can't remember what I wanted to say I login after the first try. I'd like to relate this to some verses from Molana (Rumi):

آن یکی خر داشت پالانش نبود
یافت پالان گرگ خر را در ربود

کوزه بودش آب می‌نامد به دست
آب را چون یافت خود کوزه شکست

Sorry if it's not his exact words, It's right off my head. I'd love it if someone could complete the list, there are other verses similar to these in meaning.

Stuck between 2 high priorities?

You see two is enough to get stuck but there is much much more:

1. Got to give a review on "Speech understanding" tomorrow in class.
2. Solve problems for DSP TA Session on Monday, so I don't look paralyzed.
3. Just got two papers from Dr. Miremadi and I've got to check them out.
4. Got to prepare a quiz for Tuesday's DSP Session.
5. Got a Midterm next Saturday, and I know literally nothing.
6. Just got WALL-E and I want to watch it.
7. Got this book "The Mayor of Casterbridge" by Thomas Hardy and it is literature as I've never know. I want to read it ASAP.

So you see it's not two, two is just enough.

I always have a headache choosing when I have many choices to pick from; and It’s ironic really, because I see variety as a chance to pick what suits me best. Like there was this big game shop I used to go to when I was a kid and I could rarely choose. Of course my dad was happy about it. There are too many examples to prove this in my life; like I am happier when my mum buys me clothes. She gets me for instance one t-shirt or something and I always like it. If I was to go shop with her there’d be no guarantee I’d like what she picked. She rarely buys me clothes now but it’s a big help anyway.

I started reading this book, “Neurosis and human growth; the struggle toward self realization” buy Karen Horney. A bit of psychology and it’s good. In fact, now I have a pretty good theory about why I dislike choosing. Think about it; do you like choosing? Wouldn’t life be a whole lot easier if we always knew what choice to make?

I watched an old Woody Allen movie last night, “Annie Hall”. I liked it very much. It’s not today’s popular genre or style but it has so many brilliant ideas and so many great lines. Diane Keaton plays Annie and she acts so lively, you sometimes think you know exactly how she is feeling. I’ve watched “Scoop”, one of Woody Allen’s latest works, but apart from the good and strong comedy, there is no great idea. I’ve always thought that comedies should make you laugh, yet leave you wondering whether there is a similarity to your own life. “Annie Hall” does that and “Scoop” is nowhere near.

It’s quite hard, these days, waking up at 7 am. I don’t get enough sleep, and I feel really tired in the afternoon.

Have fun.

This place used to be named "Truth is a pathless land", a quote from an Indian I used to read, and I had tried occasionally to write my own findings of it. Stopped reading his works some time ago and since then this place came to an eventual halt.
That's the history.

I am starting over with what will mostly be a log of what of I've done and thought. The old title is gone and I couldn't chose a new one so I'll be untitled for the now.

Today I was thinking about taking life easier. I mean there is always this urge inside me to control every aspect of how things go and it sometimes ends up in waring myself out for unimportant stuff.
From a broader view, I think there are a lot things that mess with our lives, things that we have once found important to consider yet never revised to see it's true importance. I don't want to go into it much specially this being a new post after many months, but I find the issiue quite important.

Be Patient.

There is change to come!

The BMM Award!

و امروز تربیت یک تمام شد و به خیر گذشت.
و دیروز سریال فرندز تمام شد و هشتاد ساعت خندیدن به خیر گذشت

جایزه بهترین فیلم ماه اخیر تعلق می گیرد به

گاو

مدت ها بود فیلمی چنین بی نظیر ندیده بودم

و جایزه بهترین فیلم خارجی ماه اخیر تعلق می گیرد به

Tsotsi (2005)

فیلمی از آفریقای جنوبی، قدری خشن و بیشتر احساسی

How many of us die in the while loop?

#include "lifestd.h"
int main() {
Human U;
while( U.Thinks( "This isn't life" ) )
{
if( U.age.expired() == true )
U.die( 1 );
U.age++;
}
U.live();
// dying is part of living
return 0;
}

و آنگاه که می گویی :

خدایا مرا به اندازه ی چشم بر هم زدنی به نفسم وامگذار

هیچ از خود می پرسی که این را خود خواستی ، نفست خواست یا هردو؟
نکند هر دو یکیست؟ پس طالب که بود؟

و مکرو و مکر الله و الله خیر الماکرین

خوب حالا که چی؟

مردک به این را حتی زده درس من رو حذف کرده ... من نمی دونم فکر نمی کنه من با یازده واحد باید چی کنم. بعدم خبر نمی ده که آخه بای ذنب؟ معاون آموزشی ... را می گویم ... اعصابم رو خورد کرده ... گور باباش؛

for now ...

تلخ یا شیرین؟

هزینه زیستن چقدر است؟
تصویر کودکان آفریفایی را مجسم می کنم با آن شکم های باد کرده، برآمدگی استخوان های دنده، و پوست چروک خورده؛ قامتی که اسکلت آدمی را رنگی دیگر زده؛ آخرین پناهشان خاک است که آماس شکم هایشان را از او گرفته اند.
هزینه زیستن چقدر است؟
کودک عراقی دیشب مرد خانه شد. عهد کرده با مادر که انتقام خون به خون بگیرد، هرچه بادا بادا ... مادر تصویر اولین قدم های مرد خانه را مجسم می کند؛ حرارت و شوری اشک های مرد جدید خانه اش که پنج شش قدم حاصل تلاش اولش بود لب هایش را تر کرده و طنین قهقه های پدر را هنوز می شنود؛ لبخند کوچکش در میان صورت سرخ و چشمان خیسش، عکاس رویترز را یاد مونالیزا انداخته؛
هزینه زیستن چقدر است؟
کودک جهود خودش را تر کرده؛ آخر دیشب به خواب، پدر در میان شعله های انفجار اتوبوس ناپدید شد. مادر فریاد می کند که باید از اسراییل بروند دیگر تاب دیدن اضطراب های کودک را ندارد؛ پدر می گوید می رویم جنوب، آنجا امن تر است؛ ذهنش مغشوش است، هزینه های امنیت جنوب چندین برابر است؛
هزینه زیستن چقدر است؟
دخترک پنج ساله کتک خورده تا ترک کند، خوب می داند مادر که نشه شود، خماریش را با پس مانده های مهمانان می تواند جبران کند؛ مادر که نشه شود دیگر دستش به او نمی رسد
هزینه زیستن چقدر است؟
سرباز امریکایی عکس فرزند هم سنگرش را در دست گرفته، هرچه می کند خون پدر را نمی تواند از چشمان فرزند پاک کند؛
هزینه زیستن چقدر است؟
البته پرداخت این هزینه ها عین زیستن است اما این چگونه زیستنی ست؟

بی درنگ یاد شعر حافظ می افتم ... حتمی می دانی ...
بلایی کز حبیب آید هزارش مرحبا گفتیم

Exposure 3 (The End)

Hi!
Since Exposure 2, Exposure 3 has lingered in my mind; and I've thought and thought of how to explain the "I", yet knowing that I am incapable of explaining, so I thought of examples and other things among the many possible; and my decision is made, the best way to discuss the matters at hand is to talk directly and see the matter while we are in relation to each other. If this is of importance then it will be discussed when that importance is seen by both parties of a discussion, thus leading this matter in my way is in a way defeating the purpose. It is of course no secret, yet a secret that is been told many times and understood by few. See how Molana describes this situation:

من گنگ خواب دیده و عالم تمام کر /
من عاجزم ز گفتن و خلق از شنیدنش

If Molana can't explain it even though he has seen it then who am I to explain it when I know better that anybody that I haven't seen it. So I quit the telling knowing you quited the listening earlier and maybe I quited listening even earlier than you did; so I am sorry for the interruption and I'll get on with this thing as I always did.

Now

• The urge to be, live, and take my part in the nature of the most beautiful time of year. The images of springs and lakes, with clear green trees and blue cloudy skies, the beauty of dusk and dawn, the clear air of a beautiful spring, takes long walks in my head.
• The necessity of visiting the International Book Fair, with it's hard walks, and my poor pocket.
• The urge to shoot and learn from shooting new photos in the beauty of nature and complexity of the book fair.
• The force to give in two projects by Saturday.
• The force to study and exercise for tomorrow's two exams.
• The homeworks I missed and the ones waiting to be missed or perhaps at most handed in late!

If this is life, and it certainly is, and I love it so much that I wouldn't want to miss a second then there is no point in complaining and I certainly ain't.
I'll try to compromise between my expectations of my academic and nature-driven life.
Yes, that's what I'll do.

Exposure 2

For reasons of which the correctness and completeness may be, and are doubted, comments left upon the previous post encourage me to try and explain some things.
For many a years this soul has had this state of uncertainty and only in the past few months has it had the chance to approach itself with less fear; thus you may see it now, as more honest and truthful to those close to him. He has feared the exposure of the depth of his mind and feelings for over ten years at the least.
While reading Exposure, you might have noticed, and it was noticed, that there was the use of many “I”s; thus an important question arose : Who is “I”?
The question might come in contrast to another question, more frequently asked: Who am I? The latter asked by “I”, while one may definitely question of who is asking “Who is “I”?”
“I” is scared, fearful, ashamed, angry, and a lot lot more, and in Exposure it is “I” trying to solve the problem of his shame and fear, he is seeking an answer to his question, in hope of decreasing his fright, anger, shame, and pain, or maybe getting rid of it all, to live happily, secure with bravery, tender feelings and no pain.
Yet again, who is “I”?
Without doubt the question “Who am I?” is asked by I, so the first question free of “I” is “Who is “I”?”. Other questions, also free of “I” and maybe somewhat prior to the afore mentioned are: What is fear? What is shame? What is anger?

Exposure

Do I really have anything to say or am I just wasting my time here?

I don't want to answer this question. The truth is that what ever the answer, I am nearly always unsure of what to do; which might arise from the fact that I am unsure of what I want.

I have got, to change the way I live. My real concern is with what I want, and I try all sort of stuff and I sometimes runaway trying to hide from the fact that I am unsure, that I am lost. Some things appear important to me while others I wonder of their importance and I can't associate to both at the same time and so I feel wasted, I feel unworthy of the chances I have.

I feel frightened sometimes that I may lose what I am yet I am unsure if what I am is real. Is all the stuff that have become associated to me through the pressures of life, and have become my belongings, those I care most for, fake? If I lose the respected, well known, talented, and graceful personality I have, will anything really change; yet when I look at myself, or rather at the things I do, or more deeply at the things that drive me to what I do, I see not a many things worthy of respect or fame; I do see talent, but I see it wasting and that scares me. Do I live to be respected? What is it that I want?

Do I long for peace of mind, for the tranquil moments of freedom, from all that scares me? It seems that this state of freedom, is rather better phrased as security. I want to be safe. What is it that I want to be safe from? What is it that is attacking my whole being all the time? Why and what of am I so afraid of? Am I afraid of losing myself, of losing the many things that have become part of me over time? Is it death that I fear so much? Is it real death that I fear or is it the state of losing my self, my mind maybe that scares me? I am sure that I am scared, yet not so sure of what is scaring me. I am afraid of losing Ali. I am scared that a time might come or that some curtain will fall and some other, different Ali, less respectful, known, and talented will be exposed upon the world. But which is the real Ali? The one quivering of fear or the one behind the curtain? Is there a third Ali? Yes, there is a third Ali, one that is the most talented, most praised being of the world, and he is what I long for. He is what I think I should be, he is what I show the world of myself, resulting in the fear that the curtain might fall, and I might be exposed naked, without any mask to protect me from the poisonous eyes of the world. Yes, this is it. I long to be the best, the most talented, respected, praised ever, but I am not, and that is what scares me, what drives me to security. I am not the best, most talented, respected, famous, and praised being of the world, yet that is truly what I wish for the world to recognize of me. So there is me, as I am which in fact I am unsure if I truly know how I am, and there is this Ali, up there, where no one can touch, or rather where no one should touch, being torn apart, by the fact that he is less than what he longs to be. Ali is a mere illusion, since one can not be perfect, untouchable from the harms and imperfections aroused by nature and the fact of being human. So there is no perfect Ali, in fact there can not be any perfect Ali, and the perfect, unreachable Ali is just an illusion, a mere childly play of the mind, imagining to be more; but there is an Ali, one who breathes, walks on the earth, thinks, and does many a things; that Ali is human, and that is all.

I am only human. I shall not feel ashamed of not being something that is impossible to be.

Hi!
It's been a month, nearly. Ain't been very eager to make an update, and life goes on easy and slow. Got a nice book, this week, from a friend exceptional in linguistics, written by Thomas Hardy, a classic, named The Mayor of Casterbridge. The book is in the tragedy genre of novels, old fashioned or truly said Victorian literature. sometimes hard to follow, as I have lost some of my acquaintance with the language.
Audvis is nearly done with, I mean there is nothing more I can do. Next phase is postponed to the finish of other modules by others. If Audvis seems unfamiliar take a look at some of my latest posts. Audvis needs people with great effort and little expectation, for it is like a religion that needs a prophet, working for the good of the world, and asking of no return.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy. I've been playing a game called Klickety on Fedora. Take a look, I've become nearly addicted.
The exam is near, the one for graduate education. I'll be taking part, though I have made no decisions about staying or leaving and the results wont effect me. All left to next year, my mind is signalling to think of it and I have no Idea of what to do. To leave with all the dependence I have on my family, culture, and way of life- as I am one who takes things to easy, thinks more and says as little as he takes action- is hard, rather impossible. To stay considering what I have heard, seen, and experienced of graduate education in Iran, is more a waste of potentials for any soul. So if your not depended on the things I said and your heart is free of all that makes a soul stick to his belongings, take your chances and go see the world.