Distracted in the UWS

I should be writing for my class, but I've got Deadmau5 on the brain, and now I just want to dance. I might scare my roommates by doing that, so I'll stick to writing.

I moved in to a new apartment in the Upper West Side. Love the apartment, love the neighborhood.
You don't even have to leave the apartment for a little entertainment. There's at least two pigeons a day that fly into one of the many windows surrounding the apartment. I don't know if they're on a suicide mission, or if pigeons just have really bad eyesight, but those birds flew straight out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Don't worry, PETA lovers, they're all alive as far as I can tell. They just scare the hell out of me.

One of my neighbors is apparently an aspiring Broadway star. I hear him belting out tunes at all hours of the day and night, most recently at 7 this morning. I can never quite put my finger on what song he's singing. This morning I awoke to something along the lines of "I'm up! Yeaaahhhh where's the toothbrush? Time for a showerrrrrr, to start off the hour!" I can't get mad because I'm too busy laughing. I think it's safe to say he's penning his own lyrics.

Another one of my neighbors is apparently part grizzly bear because he/she doesn't seem to be able to walk across the apartment without causing my dresser to shake. That, or, his/her feet are made out of cast iron. It sounds as though the person gets a sudden to urge to run a hundred yard dash, but then thinks twice about it. Bizarre. Maybe the pigeon flew into their apartment?

No building would be complete without the one apartment that has a certain scent wafting out from under its door. No, not curry, or garlic. It's a skunky smell. It's pretty much there at all hours of the day. My morning coffee run? Skunk. My nighttime arrival? Still skunk. There's never any noise coming from that apartment, though. They seem pretty chill :)

All in all, I Heart NY.

One Love.
Nazanin

Miss you, boobooface.

The Elusive Iranian Mom - Part One

We all love them. It doesn't matter if you're not Iranian, you love Iranian moms. They welcome you into their homes with open arms, lots of delicious food, an endless supply of cut fruit, and a ton of advice that you never asked for. Just make sure to take your shoes off before walking on the carpet.

The Iranian mom is a complex individual. She will do anything for her child. She is selfless to a fault. I love her. She is also one funny woman! My own mother has supplied me with an endless amount of comedy as a result of everything from her destruction of American sayings, her attitude towards keeping a clean home, and her ideas on how I should carry myself as a woman.

Let's start with the slight butchering of those American sayings and/or phrases. 'ThankS God' is my favorite. You know your mom has said it. Maybe it was your aunt, but someone has uttered this phrase on a consistent basis for the entirety of your life. No matter how many times you correct them, they will never change the way they say it. The phrase takes on some variety, too. Tanks God, Tank Gods, but never the correct 'Thank God.'

Another recent favorite was my mom's attempt to tell my sister and I how tired she was at the end of her work day. "Nazanin" she said, "I am a dead beat!" Um, mom, unless you have an illegitimate child that we are unaware of, and you are behind on your child support, you are not a dead beat, you are DEAD TIRED.
How about when she called me one day to tell me that my sister, Niloofar, wasn't in the best of moods. My mom says to me, "She really chewed me!" I'm sorry, what? Ohhh, you must mean she chewed you OUT!
And lastly, this gem of a phrase was spoken to my sister when she was 12 years old. After telling a family friend of ours that she was ready to go bra shopping, but was too embarassed to bring it up to our mom first, our family friend said (in Farsi) "Are dige, pervert shodi!" Which translates to, "Yes, you are now a pervert." We later figured out that she was referring to my sister hitting puberty, not pervertedness!

This is in no way meant to make fun of my mom, or yours.  God knows how many Persian words I've butchered in conversations. My family in Iran are always quick to point them out, and we always get a good laugh out of it. There are simply a lot of observations that I've made over the course of my life. They make our moms endearing, loveable, and human. I hope you can relate to some of the things I've observed, or, at the very least, get a good laugh :)

Stay tuned for Part 2 of The Elusive Iranian Mom.  ThankS God for them!

Please feel free to leave your own comments about your funny mom moments.

Much Love.
Nazanin

It gets better. Really it does.

I recently saw a video on YouTube, originally posted by a friend of mine on Facebook, showing a kid getting taunted and punched by a group of kids.  Casey, the young boy being bullied, just stood there, taking it all from the jeering kids, not reacting at all. Apparently, this kid had been getting bullied repeatedly, and had done nothing to defend himself thus far. Finally, at the end of the clip, Casey picked up his - much smaller- foe, and body slammed him onto the concrete ground. Casey was subsequently suspended from school. Nothing happened to the boy who had led the campaign of ugliness towards him. This got to me thinking about the issue of bullying, which has gained a lot of momentum in the press in the last couple of years. Bullying has become the hot button topic as of late. It's become the cause du jour, but the reality is that this "new phenomenon" is far from new, and has been around for ages. I used to get bullied in school. A lot. I was teased for a myriad of different things, 90% of the time at the hands of boys. According to them, my nose was too big, my freckles were ugly, my chest was too flat, and my name was weird. Interestingly enough, I shortened my name from Nazanin to Nazi to make the pronunciation easier for my classmates, but this got them to call me NAZI, as in a soldier from Hitler's Third Reich. Great. It didn't help that I was raised by fairly strict Iranian parents, which meant I never went to any parties, didn't date any boys, and didn't know what half of the sexual and/or drug related references they were talking about even were. Oh yeah, this also earned me the label of 'lesbian'. I have zero issue with being gay, so it didn't matter that I actually wasn't, so I never really let that one bother me. There were a lot of instances that I look back on and think, wow, how did people treat another kid so badly? I wasn't being mean to these kids. Why were they being so mean to me? I never did anything about it, I guess I was too scared then, and hadn't found my voice yet. I was also a year or so younger than just about everyone in my grade, so I guess I was still intimidated. Also, the couple of times I tried to talk back and defend myself, the boys in reference would get in my face, or say something really embarassing (like point out that I wasn't allowed to shave yet. Thanks, Mom!) so needless to say, the fear of their retaliation shut me up! They plain scared me. I still get a little anxiety when even talking about it, because it brings back those feelings of embarassment, not fitting in, fear, and just being different. It took me until my college years to really start blossoming into a young woman, finding my voice, celebrating my own uniqueness, and not allowing anyone to talk to me in a demeaning manner any longer. Funny thing is, I would tend to defend others who I saw being treated unfairly, but it took me a while to do the same for myself. It's sad to see that the same issues continue on in schools across the globe. I definitely believe it all starts with parenting, and a childs family life. I am not a parent, therefore I cannot speak to the difficulty and stresses of raising a child. However, I really hope that parents will take a better look at themselves, and what they are teaching, or not teaching, their children about how to treat other human beings. We, as adults, must also be mindful of what we are teaching our younger siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews, etc. Cruel behaviors should not be laughed at, or encouraged, but taken as opportunities to show younger kids, and teenagers, and sometimes adults, that treating others with kindness and respect is what is expected of them as human beings. Kindness and respect shouldn't be the exception, it should be the norm.   I still remember the names of just about everyone who had made my life miserable. I ran into some of them at my high school reunion a couple of years ago. It was interesting to me that after all of these years, my feelings regarding them as people hadn't changed. Basically I still felt like they sucked as human beings. Words are powerful, and can leave an indelible mark on a person. That's what happens when you aren't kind to people, you are never forgotten, and it's not in a positive way.   With all of that said, my experiences shaped me as a person. They helped me learn to stand up for myself, and become the take-no-bullshit woman that I am today. To all of the kids, teens, and even adults that get bullied, and teased, find your voice and stand up for youself, too. If you see someone else being knocked down, literally or figuratively, help them find their voice, as well. I promise you, it gets better. Really it does :)   One Love.

 Nazanin

P.S. Middle School and High School are nothing in comparison to the grand scheme of things. If those were the best days of your life, then you're doing something wrong.

Free Cupcake?!

There I was, minding my own business while sitting in Starbucks, working on my sketch for my writing class, when a big guy with a beard plopped down next to me, and stared directly over my shoulder at my notebook. The foul odor permeating from his body let me know instantly that this was bound to be an "interesting" little episode.  I ignored him, but then he caught sight of my syllabus and said, "Comedy, huh? There's a shit ton of money in that! You must be rolling in dough." Yeah, maybe if I were writing for a hit sitcom, not so much when I'm writing for a class, that I paid for. I continued to ignore him, but then I felt a little bad, and turned to look at him.  Before I could say anything he said, "Look, I was at a raging party and I lost my wallet. It had all of money in it, and now I have no way to get back home. I only need like $3 to get back home." "Sorry," I said, "I don't have any cash."  "Oh that's ok, I can come with you to the ATM." "Um, thanks for the offer, but no." He then looks at my mini cupcake, which I received for free with my latte purchase (score!) and yells, "Where'd you get the cupcake from? And why does everyone have one?!" "Well," I began, "It's a promotion they're doing. You get one for free if you buy a drink." "Man, I've bought three drinks today and I didn't get anything!" "I bet you did, buddy. I bet you did." 

I Love New York.

Woke up today to everything gray

The title's a line from a song by a band called Guster, and it applies to my morning perfectly. Add to that the wail of sirens, furious honking by passing cabbies, and calls for help from the resident homeless lady parked under my bedroom window (literally parked, she's in a motorized wheelchair), and there you have my typical wake-up call.  It's my own personal alarm clock that I have no control over, but who needs an actual alarm clock when you live 2 blocks away from a hospital?

So, I woke up this morning to my own personal alarm at 6:42 and hit the snooze button. The snooze button in this case is my robe, and I use it to cover my head and face in the hopes that I can trick my brain into thinking it's still dark, and to please let me fall back asleep. It worked, until 9:23, at which point I realized I needed to get out of bed and start my day.

And so, 'A Freckled Life' was created. A way for me to share with you my musings over everything from my adventures in NYC pursuing acting professionally (AKA broke and constantly rejected), to some of my other passions: pop culture, world affairs, travel, politics, and everything in between. A Freckled Life isn't just a reference to the freckles on my face, I'm slightly more creative than that (slightly). It's more of a way of life,  or a way to look at life. Freckles are defined as dark brown spots on your skin, mostly found on your face. They are different in everything from shape, size, and color.
From as little as a few feet away, the majority of people can't even see them (unless, of course, you are a superhero with uncanny powers of sight). Upon closer inspection, the freckles become more apparent, more real, and more vivid. Such is life, really. Dotted with experiences that are always different, but that shape who you are, majority of the times different from the next person.

I hope that you can enjoy my blogs and relate, contemplate, and generally enjoy yourself. A laugh or two here and there would be nice, as well.

Let's enjoy lifes freckles together!

One Love.
Nazanin :)