I manage to kill plants without much effort.
It’s not because I lack the amount of love required. First of all, I never know what sort of needs each plant has. Does it require a lot of water or just a bit? Can it survive in the darker parts of the apartment or is too much light a good idea? How often do I water it? Questions that seem simple to others are not so for me.
To make matters more painful, I love flowers. I love to see them bloom. My favorite are the tulips that come small and closed up and open almost all the way. They appear to be such giving flowers. I love that they come in tons of different colors.
In New York, delis sell flowers that range from 3-10dollars. They live about a week and still give me the pleasure of seeing flowers in my house but since they don’t last long or cost much, they come free of the guilt of killing the plant.
Or at least I can fool myself so.
Previously? Just the Facts.
History is written by the winners so the saying goes.
I waited for months to get my hands on Crescent and Star: Turkey between two worlds. I read about it months ago and decided it would be interesting to read a foreigner’s perspective of my homeland. I downloaded the first chapter from the New York Times and found him to be interesting enough to be worth my time.
As I read book, I often find myself struggling to remember the versions of history I was taught. For as long as I can remember, I’ve hated history with a passion. Part of that might be attributed to having grown up in a country with history that practically dates back to the beginning of time. Another part could have something to do with my awful teachers. History translates to hours of memorization when you go to my school and maybe that’s got something to do with my despising it, too. I’ve never been good at memorizing anything.
Anyhow, let’s get back to my topic. Reading about the history of the Ottoman Empire, I noticed a few discrepancies. Some were minor, like the story of how someone got their nickname. Others were more drastic and made me ponder how history is taught. Every nation has its own version of what happened, who was right and why things turned out how they did. One nation’s hero is another nation’s traitor.
In my training class at work, I met a girl from Iran who became one of my close friends. I remember chatting with her one day, in the subway on the way home. I can’t recall how the conversation came up but I was telling her how glad I was that Ataturk did all that he did for Turkey and how if it weren’t for him, I don’t know where we would live. She looked at me in the eye and told me that they considered him a traitor. I was flabbergasted. Honestly. If you ever visit Turkey and see how adored and cherished this man is, the idea of anyone, anywhere not thinking he’s amazing hadn’t occurred to me. I mean, there are special history classes solely based on him and his movements for goodness’ sake.
Reading this book makes me wonder what it takes to get an honest account of history. What actually happened? I am not so concerned with who’s right and who’s wrong. I do understand that’s opinion based. But I am interested in a straightforward order of events. Just to be informed. Just to learn without bias.
Do I need to read books from all the countries involved and string the pieces together? Is it even possible to get an accurate understanding of what happened? Is history always deceiving? Is the only way to know what happened to have been there?
People say that those to don’t study history are doomed to repeat it. Yet they never say anything about how difficult it is to simply get the facts.
Previously? Anticipation.
I cherish the value of spontaneity.
Most of us live in a monotonous life. We get up early in the morning, brush our teeth, shower, get dressed, use our respective forms of transportation, get to work, eat lunch, work some more, return home, eat dinner, chitchat/watch TV/go out, and then sleep. Depending on your lifestyle, job, and age this might vary but most people I know who are my age or older have a comforting, though at times infuriating, monotony in their lives.
So adding color every now and then can be crucial for the sanity/life of a relationship. Every self-help book will tell you that spicing up your relationship with an unexpected moment will have huge benefits. And I am not one to disagree.
Yet I also think that certain side effects of consistency are often under-appreciated. One such side effect is anticipation.
When I know that I go to the movies every Tuesday with a friend, I tend to get excited by the anticipation of my time with my friend or the excitement of getting to see a new movie. If I have stories to tell my friend, I tend to grow more and more excited as the day approaches until I am just thrilled it’s Tuesday. If I didn’t have this regular schedule, I wouldn’t have the time to think about it ahead of time and feel the joy of anticipation. Lately, I find myself making more and more plans and thus, feeling continuously excited by yet another event that’s to come.
I guess, as with everything else, it’s best to have a bit of both. Having some scheduled events interspersed with small doses of spontaneity might be close to perfection. I just wish that the magazines that recommend you to schedule random events would also explain the values of scheduling some consistent timeslot where you plan something that you can look forward to, get excited about and anticipate.
If you don’t believe me, just give it a try. Pick a really good friend, and schedule a regular activity. Or pick a time slot with your honey, which you put aside to do something you really like. Put aside a half-hour to do something for yourself once a week. Anything. Like taking a bubble bath, going shoe shopping, curling up with your book, playing video games. It can be anything, the only requirement is that it has to be something you enjoy, not something you think you have to do. This is based on “wanting.” That’s when anticipation does its trick.
Come on. Give it a try and let me know how it goes.
Previously? Creative Imagination.
I never see a movie without reading the book first.
When I see a preview for a movie whose book I’d meant to have read for a long time, I use the movie as an excuse to speed up my procrastination. The book moves up in my list and I avoid seeing the movie until I’ve had the chance to read the author’s words.
There are several reasons why I do this. One obvious one is that the movies often suck when compared to the original story. This often happens because it’s difficult to fit in every aspect, side stories, the thoughts of the characters, the full range of emotions expressed. The depth of a book is rarely represented in a several-hour movie.
More significantly, I cannot possibly read the book after I’ve seen the movie. Not because I already know the ending but because I cannot use my imagination. One of the most delightful aspects of reading a novel is getting to visualize the characters and the settings. Knowingly or not, I attach a lot of information to the characters in the novels I read. Some of the traits may be mentioned by the author but others aren’t. If a book is written well, by the end of the story, I have a world of information on the characters and they are three-dimensional in my mind’s eye. A movie limits this infinite world and disappoints me often.
I’ve taken my imagination for granted. Until recently, I wouldn’t have considered myself an imaginative person. I’m not particularly creative. I don’t paint, compose or write poetry, and my fiction isn’t that good. I always thought that imagination and creativity were correlated. And that if I lacked one, I must lack the other.
But now I realize that as an avid book reader, I do have extensive imagination.
As with everything, practice tends to strengthen my imagination. And since I read a lot, imagining the characters feels like second nature to me. I never even notice that I use it. I have a friend whose imagination isn’t very active. And talking to him makes me realize how much I use mine. It also makes me wonder how we, as adults, can learn to stretch our imaginative muscles.
Some things come much easier to children and I wish we could capture the overflowing energy and imagination. And hold on to it.
Previously? Priceless.
I lost my bracelet yesterday.
My sister gave me a diamond bracelet a month ago in honor of my engagement. I got a lot of presents in February but this one was my favorite. It was delicate, beautiful and my sister gave it to me. I can’t tell you how sad I’ve been since I realized it was missing.
Earlier this week, I bought myself a swatch. My friend Michelle took me to the store cause she collects them and she got the idea in my mind. Two days later, I went back and bought myself one. It’s a skin swatch, one of the new James Bond series. It cost me 75 dollars.
After I bought the watch, I agonized over it endlessly. I already had a great watch, did I really need another? Weren’t there better ways to spend my 75 bucks? I won’t making a lot of money next year and it was really spendthrift of me to blow it over a watch. Especially when I already have one. I can’t tell you how much time I spent worrying about this new purchase.
I came home and asked Jake if I should keep it. I called two friends and listened to lectures on what a total dork I am and how I should, of course, keep the watch and stop worrying about it. I deserve the watch, they persisted. Stop thinking about it, they insisted. You are insane, they laughed.
I was still slightly worried but I kept the watch. I’ve been wearing it since Tuesday and I love it. But I didn’t truly stop worrying about it until I lost the bracelet last night. The watch was 75 dollars, the diamond bracelet: several hundred. Not to mention the sentimental values attached to it, which are irreplaceable.
It’s amazing how it takes something major to put one’s life in perspective. Why does it take a disaster for us to realize the value of our lives? How come we need a family death or illness to bring us closer? Why do we need a terrible excuse to be nicer to our fellow men?
Did I really have to lose my bracelet to stop worrying about the watch?
I think we, humans, lack perspective all too often.
Previously? No Strings Attached.
I’ll give you careless amountsof out right acceptance if you want it.
I will give you encouragmentto choose the path you want if you need it.
You can speak of anger and doubts,
your fears and freak-outs and I’ll hold it.
You can share your so-called “shamefilled” accounts
of times in your life and I won’t judge it.
And there are no strings attached [to it].
You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give you.
You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have.
I give you thanks for receiving, it’s my privilege,
and you owe me nothing in return.
You can ask for space for yourself
and only yourself and I’ll grant it.
You can ask for freedom as well
or time to travel and you’ll have it.
You can ask to live by yourself
or love someone else and I’ll support it.
You can ask for anything you want,
anything at all and I’ll understand it.
And there are no strings attached (to it).
You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give.
You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have.
I give you thanks for receiving, it’s my privilege,
and you owe me nothing in return.
I bet you’re wondering when
the next payback shoe will eventually drop.
I bet you’re wondering when my
conditional police will force you to cough up.
I bet you’re wondering how far you
have now dancid your way back into debt.
This is the only kind of love
as I understand it that there really is.
You can express your deepest of thruths
even if it means I’ll lose you and I’ll hear it.
You can fall into the abyss on your way to your bliss,
I’ll empathize with.
You can say that you’ll have to skip town
to chase your passion and I’ll hear it.
You can leave and hit rock bottom
have a mid-life crisis and I’ll hold it.
And there are no strings attached (to it).
You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give.
You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have.
I give you thanks for receiving, it’s my privilege,
and you owe me nothing in return.
You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give.
You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have.
I give you thanks for receiving, it’s my privilege,
and you owe me nothing in return.
Alanis Morissette – You Owe Me Nothing In Return – Under Rug Swept
I can’t stop listening to it. My favorite line? “This is the only kind of love as I understand it that there really is.”
Is it possible to have a friendship with no strings attached?
Previously? Falling Off.
If we live once, as many people would have us believe, I think it’s crucial to make the most of this only-try that we get, don’t you?
I stress a lot. I worry about the smallest things. I yearn for the correct answers. The right path. I regret stupid little things. I wonder many what-ifs. There are times I am scared to walk down a path that looks appetizing because I spend too much time on the possible negative consequences.
I spend most of my time ensuring for my future. I save. I work. I take the right steps, I say the right words, do the right things. I invest in people. I work on my career. I am careful, calm, collected and thoughtful. I am organized, planned, and well-prepared.
And then there are those crazy moments. A glimpse of randomness. An unplanned purchase. Playing hooky from class. Spending seventeen hours with a friend. Dying my hair. Testing out how it would feel to let go.
These things may seem frivolous to you. The might not sound crazy. But they are to me. And each day that I do something small, I worry and then I get mad at myself. Life is to short, I try to remind myself, it’s a collection of moments and it’s best to enjoy as many of them as possible.
Even if I didn’t have the issues I have with letting go, I think what’s excruciatingly hard is finding a balance between the ‘living today’ and the ‘planning for tomorrow.’ I do think that it’s a good idea to be cautious and have enough money to pay bills and have a consistent enough income. It makes sense to plan for a family if you’re interested in having one and put some money aside if you’re planning to have children. Commitment and responsibility are part of life and I’m okay with that.
Yet, so is spontaneity. I want to be able to take the plunge every now and then. I want to be able to let go. For a while. Take a risk. Try something new. Something uncharted.
The trouble is figuring out the consequences. Walking the thin line between the two. Hopping back and forth but being okay overall. How exactly do I manage that?
Previously? Rediscovering.
A while ago I wrote about the rush of making new friends and yesterday I had the incredible joy of rediscovering someone I already knew.
There are people you meet at different points of your life and depending on how you feel, the conditions that brought you together, the kind of interactions you have, you either click or you don’t. Some times you have the impression that you might click but the opportunity doesn’t come. Other times you never even get that far. This person is in the periphery of your life for a while and you have a vague recollection of them but it never becomes more than that.
This happens to me a lot with friends of good friends. People that I see on occasions where my good friend collects all of his friends, sometimes leave me with the impression that if only I saw them more often or in different circumstances, we could be more than acquaintances.
A long time later, for some reason or another, you find yourself with this person again. Maybe you called them to ask a favor, maybe you ran into them in a street and felt in need of company, maybe they called you. That’s the moment when the occasion arises. That’s the moment you realize maybe this person isn’t the way you remember. Often times, you remember the person vaguely since the last time you saw them was at some occasion for your friend or a gathering where you both happened to attend. For some reason or another, this time you sit down and talk. Without the presence of other people or the superficial gatherings. And you realize that this person is someone you should have gotten to know a long time ago. Someone who gives you the same rush of knowing a brand new person but the comfort and familiarity of an old friend.
The best of both worlds.
The nice thing about having an old acquaintance become a new friend is that since neither of you remembers each other all that well, you don’t make any assumptions about each other. When you see an old friend after many years, he tends to assume that you’re still the same person since all the memories from the last time you hung out are often still vivid. I find that most really good friends that I’ve disconnected with are harder to bring back into my life. Even if they can move past the assumption stage, they rarely bother to get to know me again. Especially if the qualities/interests that brought us together in the first place are no longer there.
The person at the periphery of your life might have some ideas about the person they thought you were, too, but since they are vague, it’s easier to wipe them and start over without feeling a major loss. It isn’t so threatening because if you don’t click this time, it’s no big deal; you’re not destroying a past relationship.
Reconnecting with an old acquaintance is like discovering a treasure that lay before your eyes the entire time.
Previously? Pendulum.
With all that’s going on in my life lately, my mood is behaving like a pendulum.
On the whole, I am happy. Most of the work for the wedding appears to be under control. We’re almost exactly on budget. Jake and I are getting along fantastically. Work’s going well, for the most part. The exams are over, and I don’t get to find out the results until April so I have a month of relaxation. I have to wait on the TB tests and the medical checkup for the wedding. We think we might have found a house.
So it all sounds good right?
Except for, I am stressed out all the time. I spend my nights looking at apartments all over New York City, hanging out with brokers whom I could go on and on about. Every second I am home, I feel this sense of urgency like I am not getting enough done and I am so overwhelmed that I just turn on the TV and do nothing, which, of course, makes the next day exponentially worse. I have a mountain of eleven books checked out from the library and the books are just not being read fast enough. My knitting has come to a temporary halt. My bills are strewn all over the coffee table. Dinner tonight is pretzels and almond butter. Not to mention all the unknowns of where I will be living in a few months, where I’ll be working, where I’ll be attending school, etc.
So I tend to swing back and forth between joy and crippling fear. In the last two weeks, I’ve found three major sources of help.
The first is specific to me. Yesterday, I was working at the bookstore and saw that someone had brought in the Teach For America book. In this book, Wendy Kopp, the founder, talks all about her struggles to start and maintain the organization. She outlines its goals and explains why certain teachers are more successful than others. I had read the book cover to cover on the floor of a Borders a month before I applied. Leafing through it again reminded me why I wanted to do this in the first place. Not only do I have no doubt that I want to do TFA, I am proud to have anything to do with such an organization. I’ve decided that each time I have doubts, I’ll walk into the nearest bookstore and leaf through the book.
The second is much more general. Amazingly, music can put a smile on my face in a matter of seconds. My mp3 player goes everywhere with me and even when I’m simply walking across the street to drop off my mail, I listen to music. It makes me want to dance. It erases all the stress and negativity. I am amazed at the power of a few notes each time. But my mp3 player has never failed me.
The last way is also not specific to my situation. If you’re a consistent reader of karenika, you’d know that I am a bookworm. Reading books, like music, transports me into a separate world where my wonders don’t exist. Fiction or non-fiction, it doesn’t matter. I am so engrossed in the writer’s world/concerns/issues that I don’t think of my own. I used to be able to read at home, but lately I’ve had ample distractions. On Saturday, between exam 1 and exam 2, I had an hour free so I went to a small cafe across the street and read my book while I ate. Even when I was about to have an exam in less than an hour, the book erased all my concerns. I did the same thing twice since then. A small restaurant, a tiny coffee shop, one of the multitude Starbucks’ in the city. Me and my book. It’s a match made in heaven.
I love the fact that I can escape my world without physically leaving it.
You have any ideas on what’s a good way to temporarily forget your troubles?
Previously? Parental Guidance.
It must be hard being a parent.
Here’s a recent theory I’m developing. The imperative word being “developing.” The impression I’m getting is that parents observe their children and try and fit them into certain ideas that they have in their minds.
For example, if their kid is a good student and the parents weren’t, they imagine a path where the kid goes to a good school, gets good grades, graduates and then moves on to a successful job, gets married and you know the rest. Now, if the said kid decides to take a year off midway through college to travel (or something similar) the parent’s idealized world has just fallen into pieces. This was not in the plan. What is this kid doing? The parent gets worried and decides the kid’s screwing up the future.
If the kid is significantly different than the parents, then it’s even harder to figure out what’s best for the child so I think the parents struggle even harder. It’s hard to give advice when you can’t relate. You want to be helpful and you want to guide but how can you advise on something you don’t understand?
When the plan goes awry, the parent panics. What if the kid’s ruining his life? What if this is a mistake that’s going to cost a lot? What if it’s the wrong choice?
The fact is, the kid is also an individual and as soon as he thinks he’s ready to make some decisions, he wants to make them. The idea, or illusion, of having control of your life and your path is really important to a young adult. It’s also crucial to learn to make mistakes as part of making decisions. If the kid never makes a mistake until he’s much older, the mistake will have bigger consequences and often a harder impact.
I have a friend whose parents sheltered her for a long time and such she never realized how mean people can be until she came to college. Trust me when I say that it’s much harder to swallow the truth at twenty. I learned the same fact at like six or seven when my classmates were mean and it hurt but I had years to get over it and build a shield for future protection.
I imagine it must be hard to let your kids do what they want to. The urge to protect must be overwhelming. The even more annoying fact is you have no idea what’s right and what’s wrong for the kid. Every person is an individual with his or her mind, luck, wishes and hopes. It’s nearly impossible to tell someone what the right move for that person is. The best thing to do is try and teach the right morals and a solid thought process to the child and hope that he uses it well. And also to trust.
The rest is up to them.
Previously? Savages.
“As worker’s comp benefits have become more difficult to obtain, the threat to workplace safety has grown more serious. During the first two years of the Clinton administration, OSHA [ Occupational Safety and Health Administration ] seemed like a revitalized agency. It began to draw up the first ergonomics standards for the nation’s manufacturers, aiming to reduce cumulative trauma disorders. The election of 1994, however, marked a turning point. The Republican majority in Congress that rose to power that year not only impeded the adoption of ergonomics standards but also raised questions about the future of OSHA. Working closely with the U.S. Chamber of Commerce and the National Association of Manufacturers, House Republicans have worked hard to limit OSHA’s authority. Congressman Cass Ballenger, a republican from North Carolina, introduced legislation that would require OSHA to spend at least half of its budget on “consultation” with businesses, instead of enforcement. This new budget requirement would further reduce the number of OSHA inspections, which by the late 1990s had already reached an all-time low. Ballenger has long opposed OSHA inspections, despite the fact that near his own district a fire at a poultry plant killed twenty-five workers in 1991. The plant had never been inspected by OSHA, its emergency exits had been chained shut, and the bodies of workers were found in piles near the locked doors. Congressman Joel Hefley, a Colorado Republican whose district includes Colorado Springs, has introduced a bill that makes Ballenger’s seem moderate. Hefley’s “OSHA Reform Act” would essentially repeal the Occupational Safety and Health Act of 1970. It would forbid OSHA from conducting any workplace inspections or imposing any fines.” – Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser.
Amongst many others, one of the issues “Fast Food Nation” made me face was the drawbacks of capitalism. In the book, there are quite a few examples where large companies, which are major revenue sources and employers in a state, push around the congressmen of the particular states. When a corporation, regardless of its size, gets to tell a political figure what sort of law he can and cannot introduce in a state, I think it’s fair to say that there’s something wrong with the system.
I’m not against capitalism as a concept. I think there’s much to be said for the motivation provided by the knowledge that hard work can yield to a wealthy life style. Same goes for healthy competition. Often times the lack of monopolies provides for a more fair price for the consumer and allows for materials to stay close to their market value. I think incentives and personal benefit are better motivators than pep talks or long-term promises. Competition also promotes the push for better results. More efficient ways. I think in recent history, much scientific and electronic progress has been made in capitalist societies.
However, and you knew this was coming, it appears mankind is not necessarily exemplary in its behavior. There appear to be intoxicating effects of the money that encourage people to bend the rules far enough to break them. It appears the rich have no problem taking advantage of the poor, less educated or less advantaged. It appears there are some people who will do anything for the right amount of money. Even at the cost of human lives.
Until human beings grow up and grow a full-time conscience, I don’t think it’s possible to live in a fully democratic and fully capitalist society. I think organizations that watch out for the benefits of the thousands of people who don’t have a voice are crucial to our society’s life cycle. I think the government needs to remember its purpose and protect all of its citizens equally. Most importantly people need to care more. Humans are not an endless commodity. They are not a commodity. Humans have rights. Humans need to be treated like humans.
Sometimes it feels to me like thousands of years have changed little and we’re still not much better than the savages we started out as.
Previously? Eat Meat?.
Fair warning: the following excerpt is graphic and it’s recommended that you don’t read it while you’re eating or before you’re about to.
“I see: a man reach inside cattle and pull out their kidneys with his bare hands, then drop the kidneys down a metal chute, over and over again, as each animal passes by him; a stainless steel rack of tongues; Whizzards peeling meat off decapitated heads, picking them almost as clean as the white skulls painted by Georgia O’Keeffe. We wade through blood that’s ankle deep and that pours down drains into huge vats below us. As we approach the start of the line, for the first time I hear the steady pop, pop, pop of live animals being stunned.
Now the cattle suspended above me look just like the cattle I’ve seen on ranches for years, but these ones are upside down swinging on hooks. For a moment, the sight seems unreal; there are so many of them, a herd of them, lifeless. And then I see a few hind legs still kicking, a final reflex action, and the reality comes hard and clear.
For eight and a half hours, a worker called a “sticker” does nothing but stand in a river of blood, being drenched in blood, slitting the neck of a steer every ten seconds or so, severing its carotid artery. He uses a long knife and must hit exactly the right spot to kill the animal humanely. He hits that spot again and again. We walk up a slippery metal stairway and reach a small platform, where the production line begins. A man turns and smiles at me. He wears safety goggles and a hardhat. His face is splattered with gray matter and blood. He is the “knocker,” the man who welcomes cattle to the building. Cattle walk down a narrow chute and pause in front of him, blocked by a gate, and then he shoots them in the head with a captive bolt stunner – a compressed-air gun attached to the ceiling by a long hose – which fires a steel bolt that knocks the cattle unconscious. The animals keep strolling up, oblivious to what comes next, and he stands over them and shoots. For eight and a half hours, he just shoots. As I stand there, he misses a few times and shoots the same animal twice. as soon as the steer falls, a worker grabs one of its hind legs, shackles it to a chain, and the chain lifts the huge animal into the air.
I watch the knocker knock cattle for a couple of minutes. The animals are powerful and imposing one moment and then gone in an instant, suspended from a rail, ready for carving. A steer slips from its chain, falls to the ground, and gets its head caught in one end of a conveyer belt. The production line stops as workers struggle to free the steer, stunned but alive, from the machinery. I’ve seen enough.” – Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser.
I’m not a vegetarian, but after having read this, I thought long and hard about my choices. If you read Fast Food Nation and find out what goes into the meat that you eat, not to mention the conditions under which the meat packers work, you might seriously reconsider your choices, too.
Previously? Eyes Closed.
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projects for twenty twenty-six
projects for twenty twenty-five
projects for twenty twenty-four
projects for twenty twenty-three
projects for twenty twenty-two
projects for twenty twenty-one
projects for twenty nineteen
projects for twenty eighteen
projects from twenty seventeen
monthly projects from previous years
some of my previous projects
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