RasaM's Guide to Life, Lust, Love, Tehran, Toronto, and Everything
my thoughts. sometimes personal, often too personal.
a little side note + it’s a story
Mar 10th
(Originally written on the last day of December 2009)
a little side note
I know I’ve been neglecting you all, and I’m sorry. But life got all crazy and I just didn’t have time. I really didn’t.
I actually wrote a little something on Halloween, but never posted it. I’m not even sure what it’s about, I used a pencil to write it, which is pretty unusual for me. I gotta find the notebook and read it, if it was “post worthy” then I’ll for sure do it, if not then it will just join its buddies in the “drafts” folder.
Nothing is really new with me. The other day, I decided to cut my hair really short, and so I did it. Nothing unusual about that, expect the fact that it was 5 in the morning and I had just spent the past 8 hours at the library. It was fun, I felt clean and light. It’s been a while, so it was a pleasant change indeed.
it’s a story
I woke up, feeling uneasy. It’s never a good sign to feel uneasy when you wake up in your own bed, but here I was, feeling a bit foreign. Flashes of last night streaming into my head. Wasn’t sure how to really feel about the whole thing. Decided to go downstairs and get something to eat. Opened the fridge, some nice prosciutto begging me to cook something Italian with them, but it was too early to cook. I grabbed a couple of slices of wholegrain toast and shoved them into the toaster. After months of playing around with the dial, I finally cracked the secret to the perfect toast, not too crunchy, and not burnt, the perfect toast. I pressed down the lever and grabbed the cream cheese out the fridge, along with some perfectly chilled apple juice. My favourite mug, with a single cube of ice, just waiting for me to kickoff the festivities. You don’t fuck around with perfection. Anything more than a cube of ice will just ruin this perfect juice. Same goes with good whiskey. For reasons unknown to me, some bartenders don’t fucking understand what it means to serve scotch on “rocks”. I don’t want water in my drink, I want to cool it. Anything more than two cubes is raping the drink. Trust me on that. While patiently waiting for the toaster to perfect my breakfast, I grabbed my phone to check on Twitter. It really is the perfect way to keep in touch with the world. 140 characters of information. By following CNN and NY Times, I pretty much always know what’s going on in the world, albeit usually in only 140 characters or less. Nothing interesting, which is good. No news is always good news in my world. The toaster popped out the centre piece of my breakfast and I grabbed them all. Pulled out the table in front of the TV, queued up an episode of “Arrested Development”, and started my morning.
Ten minutes into the episode, I heard a car pulling in the driveway.
“You’re leaving?” I asked
“Yap”
“a bit early, don’t you think?”
“I really gotta go”
“yeah, sure…want anything to eat?…I mean…I would’ve dropped you off…”
“No, that’s ok, I’ll be fine”
“if you say so…”
“Yeah…amm…thanks for everything…again”
“I really didn’t do anything…thank you…I guess”
“so…see you around?”
“yeah…for sure”
(Untitled Post)
Mar 10th
It feels great. I don’t even think the word “great” describes it well. It feels grand. You slide it between your fingers, twist it, and out comes a tool. An instrument that made me feel like a man. Made me feel unique and important. A way to express my inner desires. A gateway into my soul. But like everything else in life, it came with a price and it wasn’t cheap. I could feel the guilt, looming behind my ears, whispering, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. But I ignored it all. I did what I had to do. I paid the large sum of cash, and it made me feel much better.
what it means to be someone like me
Feb 6th
I know I know, it’s been a while. I’ve written, but decided not to post them. And nope, I don’t have a decent excuse for it. I just didn’t want to post them.
I’ve been busy with school, more than I ever wanted to. I haven’t been active in anything. I don’t even play XBOX anymore. The other day I picked up the guitar and played “All You Need Is Love” in Rock band: The Beatles. Was really fun, but I wasn’t even that good at it. I scored a 75% accuracy on “hard”, I usually do at least low 90’s.
With each passing day, I try to be positive about everything. Not delusional, but positive. Some people can’t differentiate between the two. Being positive is hoping for the best, and at the same time doing everything that you can do achieve it. At least that’s how I look at it. I cut my hair again. Really short. Like how I used to do it. I just needed a change. People still annoy the shit out of me. Especially the simple ones. What’s their excuse? I don’t know. I’m not saying my shit doesn’t stink, but some people are just too easy. Too narrow-minded. You can always count on them being stupid. I like it when people are unpredictable. Even the crazy ones.
Ohh I almost forgot, my car’s lease expired, and I’ve been taking the TTC for the past week. Wow, just wow. The bus is almost never on time, I’m usually standing, cause I’m the only one with decency to allow the elderly to sit instead of me, and some people just stink. What happened to personal hygiene? I don’t know.
I was gonna write something interesting, but I’m gonna cut this one short. Sorry to disappoint.
something + something else (yes, too lazy for titles) + life
Nov 3rd
“something”
“Brilliant”, she said.
I disagreed.
“This is real”, she continued. “This time you will see it for yourself, the wrath of the past, the revenge of the fallen.”
I laughed, and told her: “isn’t that the title of the new Transformers movie?”
As she ignored my comment, she said: “You have to see it, and feel it in order to grasp it. You have made mistakes, but this time, there won’t be a second chance.”
That surprised me, and with a puzzled look I replied: “But I never asked for a second chance. I never asked for anything. It’s not like I never got punished. Never begged and rarely asked for anything…-“
As she so gently moved around in her chair, she interrupted me and said: “You know he hated you. Always had.”
I was shocked. “But…him?…I mean…why? Him and I never met. I don’t even know what he looks like…”
She slowly picked up her glass of wine, now only half full, with a red lipstick mark, perhaps a warning sign to me, and everyone else, of all the trouble that she could cause. She enjoyed a sip, and placed it back on the coaster, just as gently as she had picked it. All this while I’m struggling to understand the situation, and eagerly awaiting her explanation.
“Well, you came up in our conversations, a bit often actually”
I didn’t say a word. I figured that she knows me well enough to know that I need a bit more explanation for all this madness. After 15 seconds of silence, I realized that I was wrong.
“But how in the world did I come up in your conversations, when I don’t even know the guy??!?!?!” is what I said, as I could feel every muscle in my body twitching, trying to analyze and solve the dilemma.
She shuffled her naked legs, grazing each, on to the other, tilted her neck, with those big eyes, replied:
“That, might’ve been my fault.”
—————
“something else”
It’s been days, weeks, even months and all I can think of, are the lullabies of when I was nothing, feeling secure, as if the entire world was in my control. I wonder if I’ll ever feel the same.
The world was a different place. I was happy and well-rested. Lately, I would gladly settle for either one of them. But that doesn’t happen. And I’m not alone in this. Disappointment, was hardly ever felt, and even then it was so mild that everyone would be over it in hours, and not years.
What happened?
When did I learn to cut out people and just move-on?
When did we learn to intentionally hurt each other?
When was it that lying no longer guaranteed a hot place in hell?
What happened to all the promises, the innocent tears, and the guilt of hurting a friend’s feelings?
When did we forget the meaning of empathy?
How did we replace it with a meaningless statement like “tough luck” or “life’s not fair”?
What went wrong? I remember when stepping on other people in order to succeed was considered a bad thing. Now its just part of “the game”.
I know where the problem is. I’m never satisfied. I always want the impossible. And when I get it, I need a new impossible. The chase is always better than the catch. Always. I need to feel challenged. I need to make it personal. It has to become personal, because only then, I can feel a slight satisfaction after I attain it. Only after achieving it against all the odds, is when I feel the joy. When everyone is cheering for my failure is when I feel alive. That’s when I feel motivated. I need enemies, real or imaginary, doesn’t matter. I’ll create them if I have to, but I need them. That’s when I’m at my best. It isn’t healthy, I know, but I can’t help it.
—————
“life”
Today was a horrific day. Cloudy sky, winter looming in the corner, and everyone was just fucked up. I hate days like today. They shouldn’t exist.
But they do, and that’s just life.
"Life," said Marvin, "don’t talk to me about life."
open letter to my glasses
Oct 24th
Dear glasses,
How are you? It’s been a while, what’s new? I hope you’re doing well and life is exactly how you want it to be.
I’m writing you this letter, because I want you to know that I miss you. I am really sorry for being a bad owner. For not cleaning your lenses frequently and not appreciating all your efforts in making me see the world better.
I know I didn’t always put you back in your case, and sometimes just shoved you in my bag, but I’ve changed. I’m a different owner now. I know I used to just brush you off, and use contacts, but I’m over that bitch. She wasn’t even half as good as you. Every time I wore her, I was thinking of you.
I need you. Without you, I don’t see the world the way I should, and I get headaches. Shitty headaches. And I can’t read as much I want to. I don’t even get to play video games like before, and now the Xbox is also very upset.
So why don’t you stop this none-sense and please come back home? Xbox misses you, I miss you, the books miss you. We all miss you. You won, I’m an asshole. But I promise you that this time it’ll be different. This time, I’m a new man, a changed man. I will buy you one of those special cleaning cloths, and won’t even clean you with my under-shirt, or worst, my boxers.
I’ll even use that spray thing-E instead of just water.
I know in order for you to trust me again, you need time, and I understand that. I’m here for you, to walk with you, and show you the new me. The changed Rasam loves you, and will never leave alone.
Come back.
