reneyx

a part of me is angry. angry at myself but mostly at others. i'm angry at the people who came into my life and then stepped out of it without even a word. i'm angry at the people who insisted on being there when i didn't want them, and then when i accepted them into my life, they threw shit in my face and left me. i am angry at the people who judge my life by the pictures they see, and not by the opportunities they could have taken to ask me themselves. i am angry that people whom i have supported a hundred times, now ignore me because i didn't support them that hundredth and one time. i'm angry that people favour those who talk behind their backs and resent me for being honest about how i feel. i am angry because no matter how many good things i do, i am always remembered for the last hurtful thing i've said. and i am never forgiven.

i am also sad. because the ties i've severed in my new life here, included the tie i had to that good person i once was. i am sad because i am no more that optimist for everyone and i am no more that optimist for myself. i am sad because i know peoples expectations of me have fallen and i have no motivation to truly meet them. i am sad because every good intent i have had in the last five years has been misinterpreted and misconstrued and misunderstood. i am sad because people who have known me for years, don't seem to know me at all. i am sad because people lie to my face and expect honesty from me. and i give them honesty and thus i am resented.

i am angry because when i made decisions to take care of my needs for once, it felt like everyone turned on me. including you. and suddenly i was disrespectful and i was unsupportive and i did not care. do you know what your words and your actions have done to me? do you know what your lack of presence in my life has done to me? do you have any idea how i have felt seeing you support everyones decisions for themselves but me? do you have any idea how much it hurts, sometimes, to not be missed by anyone at all? including you?

maybe i'm not sad and maybe i'm not angry. maybe i'm just tired of the fact that you don't care anymore.

am I really that bad a person? have I really changed for the worse, forgotten my friends, and become less of a caring person? maybe.

I got into a huge fight with one of my closest friends a month or so ago. it was over Thanksgiving (the Canadian one). I guess it was one of those long-time-coming deals where at some point, someone was going to reach their breaking point. This time it wasn't me. And of course, as always, I was the one at fault, I was the one who wronged, and I was the one who changed. And worst of all, I was the one who didn't care anymore.

I don't know if I care anymore. I think I do but not like before. I am more selfish now and I don't have regrets saying that. I'm being selfish for being selfish. Why the fuck is it always about everyone else? I know I may come across as being confident and sometimes even a bit cocky but most people know I have a big heart and am almost likely to help anyone who wants my help. And I guess that's what's changed. I used to help anyone who needed my help and now I do my best for those who want it. If they don't want it, no sweat off my back. That's where I know I've changed. I stopped taking it personal if people don't need me. I now know that people don't need me and that's been easier to digest over the last year. At some point since I moved to Toronto, I started caring for myself. I always believed that I could come last so long as my efforts were put to making someone else feel better about their life. I don't care anymore. Why should I, right? No one cares to put all that fucking effort I put into them, into me. I don't want to come across sounding like a martyr because I'm definitely not one but I spent most of my life believing that my good actions would be rewarded. And they are, but not the way I thought they would be.

And worst of all, my disappointment came true. I'm a bad friend. There, I said it. I am actually a bad friend. I am great to make chit-chat with, I can even cheer you on for a minute. But at the end of the day, I am no ones best confidant, no ones best friend, and not the most loved or respected.     Whoa whoa, reader, before you start rolling your eyes at me... hear me out, I'm not crying in self-pity here. I'm stating the facts. This is my self-actualizing process. I believed for years that if there was one thing I was good at in life, it was being a good friend. And so being a bad friend was almost devastating to me. I would doubt myself and get upset at myself that I could let someone else down. It was a bad thing... 2 years ago. Today I don't care. Today I try to be as good a friend I can but I don't believe I will ever be someones best and that's okay. I've lost the respect of those I respected much and I don't care anymore. Every good friendship I have, I know, I am doomed to disappoint. It's inevitable and that's okay. I've had to come to terms with that.

I had much ambition as a kid. I believe I could be anything. We all did as children. I believed I had a higher purpose in life. I'm sure most of us did. I believed that until Thanksgiving of this year. Thanksgiving of this year, when one of my most dearest friends told me in so many words that I'm a bad person, that's the day I realized how much I suck. And weeks later when that same person told me how poorly I've treated one of our other friends, I remembered again how much I suck. So if it means anything, I'm sorry Vista. My only apologies are that I suck and I have no right to be the bad friend I've been. 

I've lost my reality check. if I was Parizad, that down-to-earth-type-of-chick, I am no longer that person. I've changed. Bnaifer was right, I really have changed. Has it been a good change? I don't know. some people like it, others don't. I seem happier, they say. Maybe I've become the happy cynic. I'm jaded in my job, I'm jaded with my friends, I'm jaded in my life overall. There are days I wake up and wonder why I'm waking up. I've lost most love for life in the way that used to make me wake up with a smile and that tacky can-do attitude. I've lost it. And I don't even care to bring it back. what's the point? I will never be able to change the world as optimistic as I sometimes want to be.

and what's sad about that is that as soon as I wrote that last line, my eyes are filled with tears.

I'm conflicted. I like my life overall. I'm generally happy. but in the context of others, I'm miserable. I hate being apathetic to others and I just am. I've been disappointed a hundred and one times and I'm just too tired to be disappointed anymore. that's fair to say, right? I'm allowed to feel tired right? I'm allowed to give up on the world, right?

sometimes I wish I was that great person that everyone wanted to know and like and everyone had respect for, no envy and no bad intentions. sometimes I wish Bnaifer respected me again. sometimes I wish I had spent more time on gaining peoples respect than their love or likeness. it's so hard for me to deal with it when my friends don't respect me. I've lost my best friends too many times.

sometimes I wish I were my best friends' best friend too.

it's been a long time since I wrote. I've dappled at the idea of getting back into writing but I think a part of me is scared that if I start, I'll head down that same path I was a few years ago. that's a lifetime ago that I've tried to erase from my mind. I say lifetime because it really feels like another life. this is a new life, with new adventures, new memories, and new insecurities. it's ridiculous how much I've learned about myself in the last year just by moving away from the things I genuinely hated about my life.

my insecurities, it seems, have doubled... or at least magnified. i hate it. i hate being ambivalent. i hate being unsure about my aspirations, my character, my life. i hate not being in control of everything i know i can have control over. i feel lost.

I know that leaving Vancouver was one of the best decisions I've ever made. I have no regrets and no intention of going back. I know Toronto is my home. I can feel it. I know I made the right decision. I am genuinely happy here.

xzserenexz = me
Selena Kity = Selena


Selena Kity: I haven't gone ANYWHERE in over 6 months
x zserenex z: I haven't gone anywhere in the last 2 months
x zserenex z: 7 weeks!
Selena Kity: hmph
x zserenex z: guess what
Selena Kity: that's a month and a half!
Selena Kity: you suck
Selena Kity: what?
x zserenex z: THAT'S ALMOST 2 MONTHS!
x zserenex z: no go on guess
Selena Kity: um... mickey's back?
Selena Kity: or...  I don't know
x zserenex z: I leave on holidays in 3 1/2 weeks!!!!
Selena Kity: shut. up. you. brat.
x zserenex z: :-D
x zserenex z: you love me
x zserenex z: juuuuuust admit it
Selena Kity: I love seeing the world for myself not just in movies, photographs, and on the internet
Selena Kity: that's what I love.
Selena Kity: >:o
Selena Kity: :-D
x zserenex z: HAHA
x zserenex z: you can live vicariously through me
x zserenex z: like I did when you were in Egypt
x zserenex z: and I pretended not to miss you
Selena Kity: hmph
Selena Kity: I guess I'll be too busy soon to be jealous
x zserenex z: so
Selena Kity: doesn't really ease my pain right now, though
x zserenex z: you won't miss me?
x zserenex z: damn, this really didn't turn out the way I wanted it to
Selena Kity: hahahaha
Selena Kity: okay, let's have a do-over
x zserenex z: ok
x zserenex z: GUESS WHAT!!!
Selena Kity: what?
Selena Kity: I have NO IDEA
x zserenex z: haha
Selena Kity: 'cause we haven't had this convo
x zserenex z: stop making me giggle
Selena Kity: ever
Selena Kity: tell me! tell me the good news!
x zserenex z: I'm going on holidays in 3 1/2 weeks!
Selena Kity: *sob* I'm *sob* so happy for you *sob*....
Selena Kity: seriously *sob*
Selena Kity: you really *sob* deserve this
x zserenex z: hahahaha
Selena Kity: you worked so *sniffle* hard in school...
x zserenex z: :-D
Selena Kity: and now you get to be rewarded *cry* with travels around the world
x zserenex z: omg I'm laughing so hard
Selena Kity: and you're going to have *wail, gasp, sniffle, cough* sooooo much fun
Selena Kity: but
Selena Kity: but
Selena Kity: I know this is selfish...
Selena Kity: I know I'm being such a child
Selena Kity: *sniffle, sob, sniffle*
x zserenex z: but what?
Selena Kity: I'LL MISS YOU SOOOOO MUCH!!!!
x zserenex z: HAHAHAHAHAHA
Selena Kity: there... was that better?
Selena Kity: I can't believe you're LEAVING MEEEEEEEE
x zserenex z: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
x zserenex z: omg I love you!
Selena Kity: *singing quietly* allll by my-seeeeelf, don't wanna be... all by myyyyyyyyyy-self....
x zserenex z: hahahahaha
Selena Kity: sometimes I wish life really had do-overs
Selena Kity: how cool would that be
x zserenex z: dude
x zserenex z: you are the queen of do-overs

 I wrote this as an e-mail so ignore all the personal references...

As you have probably already figured out about my life... I don't live anything close to boring. I recently told one of you that I loathe being a boring person trapped in a boring life. And perhaps I steal from Phi with an over-enthusiastic creative mind that I can probably take the most insignificant thing and make it in to a tv movie of the week. Of course, I'm not as detail-driven as Phiroozeh is in her writing style but I speak colloquially when I write. Yeah, that word of the day was for you, Farah.

 

So as you three know, I walk across the stage in my pajamas and gown for grad tomorrow (rather, today). Yes Phi, SFU is letting me go from its embracing concrete walls and telling me to fly bird fly... okay, perhaps not in such a romantic way. What you guys don't know is the love affair I've had with my post-secondary education over the last five years. But that story is for another day and quite easily can be a few episodes of the new soap opera I hope to launch called Apro Daro Nataak. So tomorrow I convocate. Well and good, we've established that.

 

Now before I tell you the story, you should all be familiar with my last minute shopping extravaganzas (such as buying outfits or tops or shoes days and hours before Norouz functions, birthday, birthday parties, grad... yes, grad). Well it wouldn't be a Parizad moment if yet again I didn't leave shopping for something to wear for grad to the last minute. So today I got off work late again and rushed my Honda to Metrotown. Now for you ladies who don't know, Metrotown is about 20-25 minutes from where I work. I got off at 7pm and the mall closed at 9pm. I was tired, I was hungry and I'm suffering my nasal leakage all day long. Not to mention, pretty much the majority of clothes in Vancouver are jersey material. Nothing is fancy. It's a west coast thing, I'm sure. We lack formality. Maybe that's where I get it from, Farah. So it's difficult to find good, decent, formal clothes of an assortment of colours.

 

So it all started when I was graduating high school. About two weeks before my dinner dance, mom asks me "so, are you going to buy a nice dress for graduation?" I said no. We went back and forth and finally decided okay fine, I'll go buy a dress. I wanted to get something I could wear again, none of that poofy shit that you only wear once for grad and that's all. All well and fine, and the evening of the dinner dance comes and a limo comes to pick up my friends and I, we get in... rather, I ran in once my mom found out that I tossed back my champagne like it was paani. Hey, what do you expect from me, right? So we're all saying bye, waving to our parents, the limo is pulling away. I go to adjust the strap on my shoe and to my dismay I find something stuck to my dress. I lean over to see that those magnetic tags -the kind that spills ink all over your clothes if you try and pull it apart -is still tagged to my dress! Aree baap re! I can't believe my eyes. I eventually gave up because really what could I do? At least it was on the inside so it couldn't be seen. The rest of the night was buried in eating, dancing, and after-party farm drinking (another day, another story). First class, though, right? I took the dress months later (because I really am that lazy sometimes) to getthe tag removed. Within a second, it was taken out. Whew, what a funny story for grad.

 

So I rush to Metrotown today and I'm speed walking past people... I suppose if I converted my walking rate, it'd be at a normal Toronto walking pace. And I'm zipping in and out of stores so fast, checking out their selection and their racks (haha the clothes racks). Nothing. I finally go into Suzy Shier and voila, I see about 3 or 4 tops I like. Some lady comes over to help me, I tell her I'm looking for a top for grad. I'm pretty sure I said "grad" about 6 times to her. Maybe I didn't stress it enough. I tossed the 3 or 4 tops I see into the change room and myself right after and I try them on. I already have a difficult time finding clothes to fit my unproportionate figure. Before any of you say anything, trust me, it's hard. I finally pick one out. It's a nice top (I already know what you're thinking Farah). So I go to pay for it and race home because I'm starving and exhausted. Mom and dad come home and mom says show me the top. So I put it on and she says "Parizad, ai su che?" what's that? what's what? She points to a beautiful one inch magnetic tag pinned to my blouse. WHAT THE FUCK IS RIGHT!! (I know you are all stunned that this happened to me again). But in all seriousness, who does this happen to TWICE for GRAD!!??? I'm having this big major panic attack by this point. Bnaifer calls me and I tell her my situation and the wonderful person that she is, she comes to my rescue. She managed to take out the seam of the shirt a little bit and cut the tag out (the tag wasn't far from the seam) and then seam my shirt back together. It looks like shit from the inside but at least I can wear it tomorrow. I honestly thought that this top, for $22 was a steal! I'm sure if Bnaifer hadn't been able to help me, it would have looked like I did steal it.

 

Alas, my darlings, that is my story. I'm thinking that when I graduate for my Masters, and I'm leaving my shopping to the last minute (or any minute for that matter), I'm going to check for that magnetic tag before I leave the store... but knowing my luck, I'll forget what happened today and history will repeat itself. Oh well, if things like this wouldn't happen, life would be too boring... for me and you alike.

speaking of panic attacks... I think I'm having a mildly retarded panic attack about the last month of school. I should be stressed. I haven't finished my last assignment and I have to research papers due in 1 1/2 weeks. Why is my panic attack happening soooo slowly??

Is it August yet?

I'm booked!
arrive 7:15am Toronto Aug 23rd; leave 11:00pm Sept 13th. I leave Vancouver at 11:45pm on the 22nd and arrive Vancouver at 1:15am on the 14th.

I'm so happy.

I came home today hoping somebody loves me enough to write me a letter and that I won't come home to a bill or another organization asking me for money. Well, I didn't get my letter. But the CSPCA was kind enough to send me something so highly disturbing in my mailbox. You really gotta ask yourself, in moments like these, WHAT THE FUCK are people thinking?!

CSPCA stands for The Canadian Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. The keywords to note here are PREVENTION, CRUELTY, and ANIMALS. No one really cares about the Canadian part. So, carrying on...

Today I didn't get a normal letter like I usually do stuffed with information about the organization and how far my dollar will stretch but then how much farther my $50 will stretch. No, today I got a box. See picture 1 and 2:





Seems harmless enough, right? It's probably just filled with useless crap, right? WRONG! I turned the box over and to a great alarm I saw this (pictures 3 to 5):








DUM DUM DUMMMMMM. Do you see something wrong with this picture? I sure as hell do. I have half of mind to write them a formal letter of complaint. Okay, okay, if you don't get it, I'll explain. THERE'S A FREAKIN BEAR STUFFED IN MY BOX!! I mean, clearly something went terribly wrong when the Society for the PREVENTION of CRUELTY to ANIMALS stuffs a BEAR in my box!!! I don't care if it's not a real bear, the symbolism bears all meaning (ahaha, get it?) What are we teaching the children by contradicting ourselves. Ask any child if their childhood stuffed animal toy thing would like to be stuffed into a box and they'll say no... because even stuffed bears have feelings!

Not only that, but as if to appeal to the hip hop generation of children, the bear had a little bling bling going on (see picture 6):



The poor thing. Branded not only to the SPCA, but when you turn around its medallion, it's also branded to me, Parizad. (see picture 7):



I didn't ask for ownership of the poor bear. I'm sure it didn't ask for it either. Bears are meant to roam free in the wildnerness, not couped up in a freakin box. The badly abused bear and I had a talk (I'm going to assume it's a he... and he didn't have a name nor did we want to conform to social norms to instate him with a name) and he just had one plea. He wished that none of you support the cruelty to animals of any kind and that although be believed in the princple of prevention that the the SPCA takes as its mission, what he went through was torturous and at the very least, the lady who stuffed him in the box could have washed her hands after she picked her nose. Oh yeah, he saw it.

He hopes that somebody out there reading this will take it upon themselves to further research what's really going on with the SPCA and to have some policy reform. Further, he insists that the name should be changed to SPCAA to stand for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to ALL types of Animals. See picture 8:

Well I did it. I manifested happiness. Well, I did it the best way I could. I don't know her all too well so it was hard. I asked friends to help me -people who know her better than I do. I feel like I've known her for years when really, I've known her as well as I know her now, only for two months. It's amazing the time that flies by. Is happiness an emotion that can sustain or does happiness come in bouts at sudden angled moments in time?

I did a lot of research. All I've learned how to do for the last two or three or four years now is research. I'm pretty good at it, I'd say; though if there was a real club called "Fuck Research, I write my papers at the last minute" I'd be the first one to join. So I tried to extract the keywords from different sources to find what could best make this person happy. I picked from a number of things realizing my limitations. In research, it's always about recognizing your limitations. My limitations were her time. My limitations were my time. My limitations were the boundaries our friendship extends. You can't go over boundaries but at the same time, you don't want to fall too short from the perimeter. You want to push the boundaries just a bit, just enough so the other person knows you went through a lot of effort because they're worth it. You want to push it to such a point that they feel special but aren't weireded out that some chick they hardly know has gone through so much. That doesn't look good and it doesn't look classy. It's all about class with this person. I believe that, at least. Class is important. Not like social class... no, that's a no no (what do you expect, I'm a soc major). But there's something about being classy. This person is class (class = classy). So everything has to be just right.

I'm also somewhat of a perfectionist. My projects are layed out with a lot of thought and a lot of effort to facilitate the ideas I can come up with. So I spent hours away in my room working on it. Mom came in to help, sat with me, gave me critical feedback on whether it was good or not. "put this song here and that one there... now put reggae!" my mom's answer for anything to do with music is... follow reggae music after Bollywood music. She thinks all reggae is the same and Bollywood music and reggae music all work well together. She insists that she be given credit for all her hard work on this project. What am I? Chopped liver?? But I don't want credit. I want that she enjoy the gift. I hope it works out and I hope she likes it. At the very least, I hope something makes her smile and for a moment -even a single moment -she's happy. And if she's happy, then I bought her the happiness she wanted.

At last, when I think if I was able to successfully manifest the happiness she had asked for, I don't think I was able to come anywhere close; in fact, I'm probably a million years away from it. But can you really buy happiness? And can you really manifest happiness? I don't think so. Happiness is an enlightenment in the moment when everything in life is in balance just for that moment, neither everything good nor everything bad. Everything just is. And a wave of serenity oozes over you not like the slime of sunshine but when the cold of hand creme touches your skin and it submerses into your pores. Happiness is the moment the sun kisses the horizon where the pink sky floats above the ocean, and you're in the best position to see this sight. Happiness is the tear the falls from the orphan's eye because you held his hand and smiled -not a tear of helplessness but of hope in himself because he sees hope in you. Happiness is when you realize you are in a position to do something for the good of others and you do more than just realize this potential, you do something about it. Happiness lastly is hearing the good words of a friend who genuinely means it when he or she says I love you. Language is powerful, I believe that. Language holds meaning beyond the very meaning we personally subscribe these words to. They hold the function of service because words service our emotions and our thoughts and our behaviours. Our words facilitate what you understand, what you believe, and what you speak. Words are everything.

I hope you get what I'm trying to say. Tavalodet Mobarak. عاشقتم

I'm really confused. Why hasn't Leslie gotten back to me? I don't like that I haven't spoken to her in over a month. I really need to get on booking this flight. I owe my parents the money from my last flight too.

Oh man, LA. LA was absolutely gorgeous. I had such an amazing time and it was only for 3 days. I want to do it again. I want to do it right now. I want to just leave this place and go somewhere sunny where I can feel more lifted. There's something wrong with the mundane. I want to meet new people and I want to fall in love with a stranger in a rural village. Well, at the very least, I'm visiting the village and don't have to stay there very long. My bowels don't like untechnological locations. I want to fall in love with a dark haired European with gorgeous long hair. I reiterated the hair part, didn't I? And when he smiles at me, he'll have the most perfectly shaped teeth. And we'll make love like we're in a James Bond movie. Oh, the thrill! The best I could get here is a stoned hippie that loves the environment. Not that there's anything wrong with hippies, getting stoned, or the environment but none are my top three choices in a lover and certainly not in combination.

I don't really want to dig a well either. But I would love to give hugs to orphans and have a sponsor that pays to let me take all of them home with me. I want to sleep on the steps of a famous museum in Europe only to wake up to a gorgeous dirty blond haired chap who brings me scrambled eggs and toast right to my steps.

Yes, I really do want more than one lover.

Happiness. It's a theme I've been struggling with trying to understand for the last few days. I want to understand it so that I can manifest it for a friend for a gift. I asked her, if you could have one thing in the world, what would it be? she said happiness throughout. I don't know if she's happy. I think she is. She always seems happy to me. So if she is, then how do you bring happiness to someone who's already happy? But more importantly how do you materialize an emotion and a desire such as this? To me happiness has always found its way to me through the love and laughter of those closest to me. But I don't experience the happiness I want as often as I'd like and so it becomes difficult for me to accurately pinpoint when the last time I was happy for more than a couple of days. Does a high qualify for the purest feeling of happiness? Maybe... maybe not. How do you describe what it feels like to be happy? Is happiness opening your mouth and turning your head upwards to catch the raindrops on your tongue or is it falling back into powdered snow and waving your arms and legs to make ugly snow angels? Is happiness sharing a drink with friends or falling asleep next to your best friend? Is it meeting everyone every day or just one person from time to time? What puts that smile on our faces and gives us that warm feeling? I don't know, this person has really impressed me in such a genuine way that I'd love to be able to do something nice back. But I'm stuck. I don't want my idea to suck and I can't think of anything really really nice to do. This sucks.

I hate Vancouver.

MOTHER, I ASK YOU... WHY DO YOU OPEN YOUR WINDOW!??

it's so cold. I woke up EARLY today because I was cold and too damn tired to get up and find the source to my freezing ass.

people are beautiful.

in procrastinating, I decided to download a music mixing dj program thing. I've just started yesterday so bare with me. I need patiences.

first trial: click here

second trial: click here

third trial: click here

I figured out why I ignore you. It's because you always post these private entries that I can only see when I'm logged into my account. My browser always logs me out. This is why I don't see your new entries and this is why you think I'm ignoring you.


































Did you buy it? I hope so.

Okay listen here you,

I'm sitting here half dressed because I wanted to write this last night... but I fell asleep. I haven't written not because I have better things to do. I haven't written because all I do is write papers or write notes and I'm tired of writing. I admit, this isn't good if I want to keep in touch with you. I know you miss me because I'm excellent. I feel really stressed. I have all these readings to do for class, above and beyond, I have articles for my research. I have papers and tests coming up that I'm definately not ready for. Then I have friends coming in from out of town whom I want to see and entertain and meet and mix and mingle with. And I have no time. But I make time at the cost of either my sleep or my studies. I joined Toastmasters up at SFU so I take 2 hours out of my day for that. I also joined intramurals volleyball up on mountain so I get something close to exercise in a week. I lost 15lbs before going to Dallas/Miami although I don't know where or when. I haven't gained it back but I feel the fat coming... when I walk, my back jiggles. Don't hold that against me, I'm still the same person I was 2 months ago. Now I'm looking for another job in a sector I'm interested because... well, the paint business just isn't doing it for me. So I have to write up a cover letter and REDO my freakin resume based on skills set. I bet you don't even care but anyways, BECAUSE I NEVER WRITE, I'm writing this to you. I got your lovely card and it made me smile and I feel shitty that I never posted you a card... postcard. I'm an awful person. Is there an e in that word? Anyways, so I am planning another trip in late August. I'm going to see my best friend and my nephew. I'm really looking forward to it. And then who knows what's going to happen. One of my closest friends is leaving to China on Monday. I'm going to miss him so much. But I'm glad he's going, he needs that change in his life. I had recently discovered that I have a problem. I'm a compulsive underwear shopper. I think it's based on my lack of motivation to do laundry. Don't get me wrong, I do my laundry but I believe in wearing clean underwear every day (and sometimes I'll change twice in a day if I shower more than once). I think it's in the true spirit of a Zoroastrian and all that purity jazz. I'm sure some google search on Zoroastrian is going to bring this entry up and the whole world is going to know about my underwear obsession. Anyways, I believe it's important to have enough underwear to last out the lazy periods in one's life. Today I am wearing new sexy lace La Senza underwear that remind me of the Joe Boxer idea. Imagine that. It's basically a thicker waistband that reads La Senza. I don't know why I buy from there. I like the styles and I like the the prices. But those damn bras don't fit. I mean, do I really need a padded bra? Probably not. Okay I'm done. I have to do dishes and clean before I head out. I literally have to make going to Langley a DAY TRIP. So freaking far (no it's not, I know that). I wish gas were at 34.8 cents a litre again.

Okay, I wrote all this especially for you. I demand at least 5 comments from you.

Love Parizad

It's starting to bother me to a great deal when people insist their views on me, lately. It never really bothered me before but I think I'm feeling what I may have felt awhile back. Everything is powered relations, right? By this I mean that in any relationship, there's a power relationship whether subtle or evident. What is this thing... power? In my Sexuality and Society class, my presentation group looked at power as the underlying theme for the way in which we understand the construct of gender and the construct of violence. We live in a patriarchial society where we understand that males dominate every institution, despite the greatest successes in feminist movements. This isn't to dismiss the achievements women have made throughout history and even through to the present, but at the end of the day, we still live in a society highly supressive of women, dominated by men. But is that to say that all gendered relationships in which this dominant-submissive relationship takes place only happens between men and women? I would argue that it's laden throughout, irrespective of gender; that it occurs between women and between men, friends, significant others, family members, colleagues, and so forth.

In every relationship, there is always one person that gives a little bit more than the other. In most relationship, there's always one person that compromises (at least from time to time), and in many relationships, there is one person who plays submissive to the other more often.

So this is what I think my problem is: I think I have a dominant personality. Maybe we're born like this or maybe personality types are socialized but I'm quite sure that I have an underlying personality that is very dominant. I grew up an only child and so I am used to doing things on my own and knowing what things work for myself and in many cases, experimenting with my understanding of others. Through my readings, I've realized that I'm quite a self-aware person. I'm extremely sensitive to most of my defects and strengths, as well as to those of others around me. By sensitive, I mean that I think it's fair to say that I'm quite atuned to the needs and emotions of others to a great degree of accuracy. What I learned many years ago is that people don't like to be dominated; in fact, many just want to learn and make the mistakes of life on their own. So "comorbid" with my dominant personality is my sensitivity to another's needs and after years, I finally learned to let people think the way they want, despite how that may affect me... of course, unless it really hinders me. I'm not so selfless. What this does then is puts me in a position where I appear more submissive than I really am. I appear passive because I inhibit my dominant ideas for the sake of others. Maybe this sounds stupid to you and maybe you think I should take control and do things for myself but let me ask you... what's the best feeling in the world? When you're in control. So I take a passive approach for the minor, daily power issues that arise. I do, however, draw the line when my passivity is mistaken for stupidity or senselessness. Those who love me most make this mistake the most. I don't mind seizing all rights of power when it comes to minor details of life because why do I need such power? I know I will have it when I want it... but what disappoints me is that those times I want to step into positions of power, those who I am closest to will doubt my capabilities most, and if not that, they will be the most shocked. I wish such a statement was exaggerated.