Said the Moth to the Flame

I'm still thinking of going to LA to tell a story. The theme is "Blunders", and I think this will be the story I will tell:

The second day of my freshman year, I went to class starting with my 8am Chemistry class. I had my pens, hi-liters, notebooks and text books--all of which I carried on my back like an overloaded snail. By three o'clock, I was feeling good about myself, cautiously optimistic as I walked into my biology lecture hall, along with about 200 other students. It was mostly an introduction session listing the professors, the TAs and the resources available to anal retentive pre-med freshmen. At the end of the lecture, Dr. H mentioned that the lecture notes would be available as tutorials at the brand new computer center down the hall.

I went to the brand new computer center, to find an empty room with rows of computers and a harried man untangling wires as he balanced some books on his lap. I went to him, introduced myself and whispered, "I've never used a computer before. Could you help me?"

I'm not sure why I started whispering, but it seemed to annoy him. "Just pick up the mouse and play around with it a little. You'll figure it out."

I stood there looking at him, and then looking around the room. I wasn't sure why I would have to play with a mouse.

"Ha ha, I guess they got away. Good thing, since I don't like mice! How do I get started on the computer again?"

I'm pretty sure if someone had this conversation with you, with an American accent and a perfectly straight face--you'd think they're being a smart ass. He did, and it seemed to annoy him more.

"Listen, I don't have time for your jokes. Just sit at a computer and click the mouse. You'll figure it out."

I sat in front of a computer at the end of one of the rows, pretty sure I'd break it and get expelled from university during the first week of classes. Then I'd have to move back to Iran, listen to all the jokes of how I couldn't even stay in a university in America--where any bum can get in...I was about to cry. I was timidly hitting random keys and NOT reading the recommended tutorials, when suddenly a page popped up asking my name.

I looked around, and saw Angry Guy paging through one of the books. He was right, it wouldn't let me do anything to break it, the computer was helping me!

"Excuse me, should I be answering the questions?"

"Yeah, you're fine."

So I carefully entered my full name. I also provided my detailed address, class schedule and student status when asked. But the next two questions practically made me jump out of my chair.

"Are you Iranian?"

"Yes."

"Haaleh shoma chetoreh?"

"OH MY GOD! The computer is speaking to me in FARSI!"

Angry Guy couldn't ignore me any more, "What are you talking about? Computers don't talk. Someone at another computer station is chatting with you."

"But it spoke to me in FARSI! No one around here speaks Farsi."

And that's when a couple of Iranian looking guys jumped up from behind a computer in the furthest corner of the room, "It's us! We're Iranian! Sallam!!"

I couldn't collect my things fast enough. I was grabbing my notebook and pens, trying to get away as fast as I could, when they came over and tried to talk. One was a short guy with overly gelled hair and clothes that didn't fit him well. The other was a tall, lanky guy, too easy in his skin and a huge smile on his face. He was mighty proud of himself.

"Want to grab dinner? Do you have any friends? How long have you been in the States?"

I didn't answer any of the questions, just called out, "I'm sorry, I have to go. Bye," as I tried to run far, far away. As I ran, I looked over my shoulder to make sure they weren't following me. Of course, it wouldn't have mattered, considering how I had given them my dorm name, address and room number. "They won't look for me. I'll never see them again. They'll forget about this. They're guys, they won't tell anyone."

I was wrong, again. I saw them twice a day, every other day in my biology and chemistry classes for two semesters. Had I not been running away from them so quickly, I would have recognized the short guy as the overly zealous guy in my chemistry lab. They were premed, always with a pack of competitive Iranian premed students who eventually learned about what had happened. They only strengthened my resolve to avoid the Iranians on campus like the plague.

That didn't happen either. The tall lanky guy was determined to befriend me. He was a patient fellow; he stopped trying to talk to me for almost two semesters, but eventually his niceness got me talk to him. We studied together, hung out, exchanged emails when he moved away and spent long hours talking about life, family and dreams.

I'm glad he didn't give up, because today he's one of my dearest friends.

The Plan: Weekend Getaway (Part II)

While our weekend didn't work out quite as I had planned it, it was a pretty nice weekend. If you ignored the searing heat, the brown out, the traffic and the searing heat. It is bad when being outside is actually cooler than being inside your home. Our poor upstairs neighbors had to resort to coffee shops and bookstores for most of the weekend. We stayed home for most of the first two days, then took a drive to other parts of SoCal, which seemed cooler to us. Either that or the heat had made us lose our senses...

So here is an overview of what we did:

• The Self-Realization Fellowship and Meditation Gardens: I heard about this place on PBS, and considering how many times we have driven past it, you would think we'd check it out. But prior to our visit, I thought it was strictly a religious retreat. The gardens, open to visitors, are lovely. We didn't take a camera--again because we weren't sure if it would be disrespectful to anyone worshipping or meditating. We enjoyed the garden (the views from the top of the garden were one of the best in San Diego, I think), watched the fish in the pond for a while and then went to a nearby park for a homemade picnic lunch. The lunch was nice, watching kids running around the park with reckless abandon made it even better. It was still crazy hot outside though.
• Shahrzad: Having lived close to LA for a while, I can honestly say I don't miss it. However, there are a few places I like to visit and miss from time to time. Shahrzad, a Persian restaurant in Westwood (Eye-ranian central) is one of them. They make fresh, Persian flatbread which can be a lovely meal in itself. Of course, we had to stuff ourselves silly with all kinds of rice dishes and appetizers--but only after eating a basket of fresh, hot bread. Mmmm...bread.
• Girl at The Getty: On the way to Santa Barbara after lunch, I pointed out The Getty to M. I'm pretty sure it is the first time he was impressed with a museum in California. Having lived in Paris, he does not consider The San Diego Museum of Art a 'Real Museum'. I can't argue. But The Getty did get his attention. If you have a chance to go, you should. It is free (there is an $8 parking fee) and beautiful. Actually, I must say, I get pretty excited about visiting museums; I'm almost speechless--as if in a shrine of some kind. We returned on Tuesday (driving back from San Diego, NOT Santa Barbara) and spent some time there, basking in natural and man made beauty in the sun. We just happened to catch Manet's Bar at the Folies-Bergere during its last week. Oh, and here are some pictures of me, in case you're wondering what I look like.
  

And my personal favorite, me under the bouganville trees:

• Santa Barbara: SB was nice, even though the visit was quite short. Due to the traffic and distractions along the way, we arrived later in the afternoon than I had originally planned. Actually, I had planned to be there in the morning--but that's ok. We drove around town, saw some of the sights, and almost got run over by drunk tourists on bikes. Next time we go, we're planning on staying longer. Actually, the thing worst part of the trip was getting on the road on Monday night. It took us almost five hours to get from SB to San Diego, with much of the time spent on the freeway between SB and LA. This is one of the many reasons, I hated living there.
  
• The Moth: I have been reading and hearing about The Moth for years. I emailed and asked the people who organize the events if they could do something on the West Coast (this is before I even lived in San Diego). They politely said there were no plans, but I should stop by and attend one of the events next time I'm in NYC. Unfortunately, I rarely happen upon NYC. So imagine my joy when I found out that they finally have events in LA. They started recently, and we went last night. For some reason, they didn't get as high a turnout as they usually do. I almost got up and participated. I guess that will have to wait for another evening. Perhaps October, when the theme of the stories are "Blunders". If you know anything about me, you know how far I must stretch my imagination to find "Blunders" in my past...

The Plan: Weekend Getaway (Part I)

In a rare move of foresight and planning (as opposed to my charming habit of procrastinating), I had planned this past Labor Day weekend full of all kinds of fun activities. I was giddy. I was excited. I was a woman with a plan. I planned it so far in advance, that I gave more than the requisite two weeks notice to my boss when I requested to have Tuesday off. What were my big, fancy plans?

I had planned it so we would stay home and relax for a couple of days when all those crazy Americans got on the road and started driving places. I got things to cook, sunblock and a list of undiscovered gems in our lovely city. We were to spend the Saturday and Sunday in San Diego, hosting possible visiting friends (who sadly did not visit), cooking, beach bumming, writing, etc. and then drive up to Santa Barbara early Monday morning. According to The Plan, we'd spend the night in SB, drive to Los Angeles on Tuesday, explore a few places and attend The Moth event in the evening.

Cool plan, huh?

Sunday morning, I was on the phone, casually telling my friend about what I had planned, how we'd drive up the coast, maybe visit a winery or two, find a little place to stay and hang out in ...

"What's that look for?"

I had to ask, because M was looking at me with a blank expression. It seems, in addition to having a plan, I also have a husband who is more forgetful than I am.

"Why are you telling her we're going this weekend?"

"Because we are. Remember? The Gmail calendar I created so we could both check schedules and plan things? Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, The Moth...The time I took off of work..."

Blank look continues. I apologized to my friend and told her I had to go.

So it seems there was a slight miscommunication, misunderstanding or some other kind of mystery involved. He was pretty sure I had never mentioned all of this for this weekend, and I had all kinds of stuff to show that I had. It seems while I envisioned a nice little getaway in quaint SB, my husband had planned to train someone on a scientific something or another.

C'est la vie.

We still had a lovely weekend, we saw Santa Barbara (briefly) and attended The Moth--just not as I had planned.

I'll write more about what we did in a different post. But before I end this post, I did want to say, I have VERY good reason for not planning trips and events. It is not because of my unfortunate and undeserving reputation as a procrastinator. It is because even when I plan, nothing works the way I envisioned it.

Sometimes, that is a good thing.