84 days

I THINK SOMEONE I KNOW FOUND ME.

I'm sure you're all wondering why I changed the link to my blog... yes well, I think somehow someone I knew found me.

Sitemeter showed that someone found my Iran essay interesting enough to post on some london craigslist rants and raves forum. I couldn't find the actual post but regardless... they posted it (update, I found it: clicky). This in turn brought about 400 people to my page, one being from my home town, who view the page for an unnervingly long time, and revisited the page on 3 different occasions. I know you're thinking it's probably a very large town, yadda yadda, NO. We all know each other, it's a tight knit community, and all things point to EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

HOLY SHIT, WAY TOO CLOSE TO HOME.

Now i have to re figure the comments thingie (update: done), and make a new site meter, and DAMMIT! ERRRRRRRG

I have a pathology test tomorrow on lung, head & neck, and breast. The teacher just finished breast today - that's about 200 pages of reading in robbins, plus pictures. SHOOT ME.

I have more to say but thinking of my exam is freaking me out, also... a very annoying mosquito keeps biting me and I'm on high alert so I can kill that sucker. Distractions distractions...

I'm so going to kill it. (update: I still haven't killed it)
(update #2: mission accomplished, mosquito killed 6:00pm - and i think its little sucker is stuck in me, it itches like a bitch!!! - all the micro involved in this is starting to freak me out)
nic out

Believe me now?

You didn't believe me, but how about Ted Koppel?



main thing I didn't like though was how he called the current leader of Iran the "Shah" for the past 25 years.

That fucker isn't the King, our KING is in hiding.

Also - National Geographic listed Iran's independence day right around when the religious extremists took over. The persians in america and going crazy over it... writing petitions and etc. I'll try to go through me e mail and get the full scope.

Till then - watch the video... listen carefully to when he talks about helping overthrow the shah, the support of saddam, and how Iranians must view Americans after all this.

Another war is brewing ladies and gents... brace yourselves.

Mine

It constantly amazes me what catches people's attention on the net. I've been writing this blog consistently for over a year now, even though I started it broken more than 2 years past. I've written about loving, heart breaking, playing, bitching and moaning. I've shown how I've grown from a child with no direction to a medical student finishing her second year of school soon to start her clinicals. I've shown my opinions, things I've found amusing, things that capture my attention. I've shown I'm not perfect, and how I cope with the confusion of being a child in an adult's body...

And what's the one thing that most people are attracted to on my site above all things?

Sex and violence.

My page had over 700 view's from around the world when I stuck up the UCLA taser incident. When I laughed about the "Indian's having small penii" BBC article, again - hits from all over the world. I mention phone sex on MY blog, MY diary - and G who hasn't left a comment in over 3 weeks takes time to make his presence known. "Why would people want to read this?"

But when I write anything about my opinions, my thoughts, anything - no those aren't interesting. Who cares about how I feel about Iran, who cares about what went through my head before I had direction in life?

I don't mean this rant towards those I have somehow "befriended" in the blog world. Those that have a vague feeling of who I am and in some sense understand why I think a freshly dissected heart looks beautiful. It's those that stalk the internet that... skeeve me out.

Why search the net for sex and violence? Why does that attract people so much? Because it's taboo?

Why are these 14 year olds putting pictures of themselves up holding a camera to a foggy bathroom mirror in their bra's and panties on myspace? Why was I able to find over 200 video's of "girl fight" on myspace? Why does it scare the crap out of me that my little sister is now legal, and wants to go clubbing back home without me? -- oh I know, because everyone is only interested in sex and violence, and her innocence can so easily be taken away from her.

At one point in time I kinda cared who read this. I wanted feed back. I wanted people to see my initial hurt 2 years ago when the man I thought I loved broke my heart. I wanted support when I left home and put up my feelings on the internet. But then I realized this blog was more about me. I come on here and try to re-read my blogs, to see how I've changed. It's STILL hard to read how KFP eff'd me up - I honestly can't even read through one WHOLE blog because I feel sick at how stupid I was.

So in response to you G, why would I put this up for people to read?

Because that's what a blog is. A public diary. I choose to keep my identity to myself, but you're right - it would be very easy to figure out who I am.

But then again - this blog doesn't have that much sex OR violence, I'm not too sure many people would care about the actual person that writes it.

89 days

We have hit the 80's. :)

Today my path teacher scared the crap out of us talking about the upcoming world cricket match being held here in good ol' antigua. The government has decided it's going to implement a temporary sales tax of 17% for 3 months. Shocker, that'll be right when all the tourists start coming. They're estimating over 50,000 people planning to attend 8 sets of matches. The population of Antigua is currently 79,000.

I hope the island doesn't sink.

So he advised us to stock up on gas, food, etc etc etc. They're even planning tests around the 10 day period where games are going to be the worst. He advised girls to get guyfriends to sleep over in case there were robbings, and asked us please please please not to go into town.

All that talk freaked me out just a little... but I kinda still want tickets to see the world cricket match.

I'll never have that opportunity again y'know?

94 days

I went to the hospital today, to witness my first autopsy. It's horrible how detached I am from viewing a person as a person once they're opened up. It's also horrible how cool I thought the man looked all fresh vs. the cadavers we initially learned from. Ok ok sorry, let me back up.

47 year old man, sudden death, no history of illness, chronic alcohol abuse, unkempt appearance, drug use suspected. He was found face first in his living room by his niece holding his morning "spirit."

A family witness and police officer sat across from the pathologist who asked them each a series of questions like: how did you find him, any froth around his lips, any vomit noticed, does he have a history of disease, etc.

After questioning they took them into the room to identify the body. The rasta man's niece was surprisingly calm, identifying him and leaving with the rest of the family.

Then they cut off his clothes. I know it's horrible but I looked... the man had a MASSIVE penis. I tried not to stare, I swear. HUGE.

They went through the autopsy while another pathologist grilled us with questions. The I kept getting distracted by the autopsy... I wanted to cut. Is that weird?

She kept showing us body parts and I was giddy. I loved the heart the most, it was beautiful. The muscles and papillary fibers were perfect, a reminder of how fragile we really are. His lungs were horrible. Probably due to smoking and the such. Signs of emphysema were present... what a waste of an amazing organ. I saw his brain, more fluid than our "fixed" brains in anatomy. She cut into it and I saw the grey and white matter, I saw the adrenals, kidney, liver looking like they were covered with gloss... god I'm going crazy thinking about it.

I asked them if I could just come back and sit there while they cut and study - she laughed and said it would be fine. I don't know when I'll be able to do it, I have lab's in the morning when they do these, but dammit if I'm not going to try.

Too bad foreign medical grads have a slim to nothing chance of going into cardiology. That heart was amazing... *breathe*

95 days

2 days ago i had the sudden urge to fix my vonage phone.

A bobby pin, butter knife, nail polish, sweat, strength, rubber band and a hair tie later I fixed it.

YAAAAAAAY ME! (Who needs a man.)

The first person I called was my best friend B around 10:30. Her phone was off. So of course I call her again yesterday to tell her I fixed my phone.

She immediately begins sobbing. I freak out.

"What's wrong, are you ok, what happened?!" etc.

"I left home yesterday, my plane landed here at 11, I got a message saying Dad died and I couldn't stop crying. I finally got myself to stop crying and couldn't start up again. I started having panic attacks so I went to my boyfriend's house to hide. I turned off my phone and turned it on just now and you call. How did you know? I haven't been able to cry till I heard your voice, I miss you."

I can't stop hearing her say these things to me over and over again verbatim.

I guess you can always tell when someone near you needs you. I was in a very weird depressed mood the night B's father died. You can see from my little blog that I had a nice little rant. I felt the need to talk to her - I didn't know why. Now I do.

Again back to the whole weird spirituality thing that I believe in, but God knew she needed attention. She said all of us called her that night because we were thinking about her, and how we've never ALL actually done that on the same night.

I don't know how to give her advice. I made myself shut up and listen to her. I tried to have her talk it out herself like I was taught in my behavioral class - until she yelled at me to stop acting like a doctor and more like a friend. I told her fine - but she needed to promise to see someone. I told her regression causes too many problems for someone as fucked up as her to deal with ;) - and she started laughing. "See, there's my nic"

She went out drinking last night. I sent her about 300 text messages saying I love you so she'd feel supportive. I called my family to support her because hers is across the country, and I blew up her e mail and myspace with all the attention I could muster.

I don't know how to handle this. I want to be strong for her and help her through this, and for once... I have no idea where to begin.

Before you judge a book by it's cover

Internet speculation has started in on rumors that America is about to attack Iran come April. They say we're going to wage war, and many American's are starting to look down on the evil Iranians living in their fair land.

Well here's a head's up.

I was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

I am a first generation Iranian who's parents came here during the revolutionary overtaking of the shah.

My family use to be influential, they never knew hardships before the revolution, but suddenly they were thrown into a country who's language they didn't understand, where racists sneered at them to learn proper english and leave.

My parents attended Oklahoma university where my father played football with people who called him a camel jockey. He made them laugh by calling them buffalo jock's in his thick persian accent. He quit the team when his football mates played a practical joke on my mother's brother and left him stranded in his dorm room with no clothes or phone for an entire weekend. He thought they were insulting him, they didn't realize he'd take it so hard.

My parents would take their textbooks and translate it to farsi, each word at a time, learn it, then translate their answers back to English. They formed a small family huddling together, explaining each paragraph they had deciphered to the group - they made up the top 10% of the class. Obviously this couldn't be right, Iranians beating the smart blond and blue's of OU?! No way. So they were separated and asked questions orally... having to stumble through translating the oral questions and answering back in a language they didn't know. The dean of the school apologized to them all... they all got perfect scores. My mother was so good in her math classes, her professors would excuse her from future lectures and exams because she broke the curve.

I grew up with my father's teachings, telling me to believe in god, to know he was always with me - but firmly told me that he would never choose my religion for me. He told me I could be whatever I wanted as long as I knew god was in my life. My mother always tried to push for me to realize I was a muslim... she'd sneak in little comments "you know we're muslim right? Not like them, but in our own way." - which would anger my father. No, he wasn't going to act like those religious freaks that kicked us out of his country, his daughter was going to be free, in any decision she made in her life.

My father would tell me of where he grew up. "Tehran is beautiful," he would say "you look out the front window and see white mountains, and the back window and see plains."
He would tell me of white beaches made of shells that you "can't walk on without shoes, the shells dig into your toes." My mother would tell me ghost stories from her life growing up in a castle. Tea with her great great great grandmother in a room long abandoned, her grandfather dying and coming back to see her if she didn't pray, sitting with her at night helping her go to sleep. She'd tell me of the castle cat which would sometimes bring her kittens and put them under her blanket for safe keeping while she roamed the house for mice.

I grew up with the picture of the shah sitting on my grandmothers table by the door. A shrine built to the old regime. The triple color flag with a lion, a crown and a sun sat proudly beside her Koran and her king. She played rummy with people I later saw in my college history of Iran course. I could never mention them, they were wanted "criminals" to Iran's new regime. The dreaded "underground" still supportive of the shah. Devils.

I was never allowed to watch what the new regime was doing to our country. My grandmother would sit and scowl by her radio trying to hear news on the one Iranian only radio station America had. She had to pay extra to listen, it was based in California. She'd cry when she'd hear of villages being attacked, more people dying. She wasn't allowed to call home.

I never met my grandparents on my mother's side. Her sisters married into the new regime to protect their family. They cry every time we can get a hold of them on the phone and they hear my voice. I'm told American accents are "hot" to Iranians, they tell me my pictures are beautiful.

When I was learning how to read, my grandfather would try to sit with me and learn. He always told me how bright I was, how I was so much smarter than him - I was always annoyed when he asked me questions and zipped through the answers. He stopped asking, and I had been relieved... He tried to learn again through my little sister's books 6 years later - careful not to ask her too many questions.

Later in life my father would tell me stories. "You know he was the head of the police? I would steal his car, and run around town with the siren on, when the police would catch me they would be so scared of your grandfather they would send me home with a warning. I'd drive away with the siren on laughing." I would stare at my grandfather coming home in his 7-eleven work shirt and try to imagine him as the head of police... I found pictures in my grandmother's closet of their wedding. Her dripping in gold, him standing proud with all his medals and cried at 15 - how could he go from such greatness to 7-eleven?

During the Iran-America soccer game a couple years ago, I rooted for Iran. The stands held an overwhelming number of people carrying the shah's flag. No not the new flag, with their Arab words on it and Muslim symbols, the old flag with it's lion flapping proudly in time to their chants. Showing the Iranian people of America are not the same as those extremists living and censoring in Iran, but but those that believed in the king. Who came here to escape the extremists inhumanity.

So now the time is coming where America is going to attack the regime I've been taught to hate. The one who sent my family here and allowed me to grow up free in a land where I was taught to be myself, and not listen or bow down to anyone else's influence, and what do i see? American's looking down upon the Iranians that live in THEIR fair land, and casting them aside as the same fools that are running the country over the in the middle east.

Well here's a head's up. I am an American, as are my parents. I am an Iranian. I vote and I support my military. I speak English without an accent, but speak farsi with a heavy American twang. I tell people who complain about America to leave, and I long to visit Iran's beautiful lands. I exchange christmas presents with friends, picnic on the fourth of July before watching the fireworks across the street from the monument, and I celebrate Eid every march 21 with my 7 S's.

HOW DARE you look down on people you don't know and try to ASSUME how they act or feel. As far as I'm concerned, if America can fix this mess, the mess THEY started by helping overthrow the shah so many years ago, and allowing his death by refusing him entrance for a medical procedure, I SAY BRING IT.

I want to see the white mountains and plains by my father's old house, I want to see the white sandy beaches that I need shoes to walk on. I want to see the castle that would've been mine had the government not confiscated it and demolished it for warfare training.

I want to see what would have been my home, and thank it for giving me the life I've been lucky enough to receive.

Picture's [Source]

97 days

Spring is in the air, and for some reason I have a big sign on my head saying "TRY TO DATE ME, PLEEEEEEASE!"

An old friend of mine I studied for my LSAT with (who had a crush on me then) apparently still has a crush on me. I filled out one of those stupid myspace survey's while in class while very bored. One of the questions was "have you ever liked a friend?" to which I answered "bad idea"

He write me back pointing the question out, I try not to start that conversation up replying "you crack me up," he wrote back "c'est moi qui craque petite" which roughly means... you're breaking my heart or something along those lines.

...

WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...

me no likey

I hate how anything exciting in my life seem's to be about me hiding from men. But then again, I wouldn't want to put you all to sleep telling you about the cool pharmacological effects of grapefruit juice (cytochrome p450 inhibitor) or the pathology of your blood vessels and heart...

but by all means, if you're interested let me know. I could totally try to do the whole medical blog thingie ;)

Navy has also just gotten orders to DC. That means he'll be living there when I get back (he was only visiting when I met him). oh boy. --- but then again, he said he would teach me how to shoot a gun so i'm kinda excited about that part... but still. oh boy

(i'm lying, no medical blog for me!!!)

98 days

A couple of updates:
- So in regards to needing to call the GM in a timely manner... I decided I would just text message him. I had told him I couldn't give him a definite answer on dinner because I had a quiz in pharm on monday (which I did). So I text him this:
"Did well on my quiz today, how was your day"

Normal text right? Well I don't get a response (thank god)... until I wake up the next morning and saw he'd text me at 2:30AM (ugh) - typo's included verbatim:
"Just thinking :) but u r probably sleepling :) do u get hungry? I know nothing about u but i can still see ur hypnotic eyes drowning me and I wonder if ur as ur intoxicating as ur beautiful eyes... so u eat? How about dinner :)?"

Doesn't that just scream "I WANT TO FUCK YOU!!!"?

No seriously. It totally skeeved me out.

So I waited until yesterday and wrote him back saying something about how I had my friend do my eye makeup har har, and he wrote back something along the lines of, no it was the way you were looking at me blah blah blah.

I haven't written back. He skeeves me out. Fuck school politics... gah!

- Navy got a webcam. He's nice. It's not progressing anywhere. Unfortunately I think he's more into this web chatting thing than I am, which I would be stupid not to think otherwise, so I'm going to have to back off and stop being selfish. Attention from hot boy = yay, hurting hot boy = nay, he really his a nice guy.

This makes me itch

eeeeeeeeee!


Watch this video first



ok ready? Here's the explaination

Now read this

Now I would like to tell you that I saw this and was disgusted and lost my appetite... ok well you got me on the disgusted part... but I actually watched that video and was envious. Is it odd I wish I was the girl that got to pop those suckers out?

... I watched it twice.

I wanna pop out a botfly outta someone!

100 days

Last night... the GM from coast called me and asked me out.

I was shocked.

1. I never gave him my number. He took it upon himself to contact a classmate (the school prez) to "get the AMSA prez's number". Slick one he is... using my position to contact me (dammit).
2. I could barely understand his thick british/venezuelan accent
3. I was mid video cam talk with navy boy

TALK ABOUT TIMING.

So I quickly muted the video cam, and tried to figure out the fasted way off the phone since being rude wouldn't help me in this situation. See, I AM the AMSA prez, which means I have to fundraise, and who do we use for our fundraisers? The restaurant the GM so happens to work for.

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

I guess bribing him to flirt with my friend with attention from me later WASN'T such a good idea.

*groan*

How'm I gonna get myself out of this one? --- i'm supposed to call him tonight.

Damn school, political, fundraising, charity, drunkass me shit.

101 days

only 101 days till I leave the island (including weekends)

life is good.

I stayed up last night until 7:30 AM talking to navy boy. I think I just want attention while I'm here, but I still think he's really hot. Definitely not someone I'm going to get into a relationship with butttttt... he has a hot voice.

Drunk.

Last night my girls got me drunk. ooooooooooo boy.

People at school have never met DC nic. I have many personalities... I guess you can say I blend into the environments I'm in. I'm still myself in a sense but either toned down or up.

At school I'm work oriented. I study, I barely go out, I don't let on anything more than I have to. At home I'm the same, only I have more fun. I'm still the most responsible in our group, but then we have M the partier (she's the one that came to visit with her friend A), B who's the most like me, and another girl H who comes and goes.

So last night M guilt tripped me: "Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiic, I'm came all the way heeeeeeeeeere! This is my last niiiiiiiiiight. Drink with meeeeeeeeeeee."
To which I found myself responding: "Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine"

I gave the alky permission to get me drunk. DC nic came out.

I wore a skimpy top (unheard of here because I hate getting attention). Halter, no bra, with the bottom part being see through lace. Yes you could see my stomache, the belly ring ("YOU have a belly ring?!"), and double stick tape had to be used to make sure my breasts didn't pop out. I wore makeup, did up the eyes like I was going downtown. I wore heels, tight jeans, did my hair, needless to say I cleaned up.

I did shots, drank like I do back home - and basically left most of my classmates with their jaws on the floor asking me what I did with the nic they knew. Of course M was confused and confronted a few of them saying: "what are you talking about, she's always like this."

Main points that happened last night:
- The GM of the store fell in love with me and we had free drinks all night but my friend A thought the GM was hot, so I pulled him aside and asked him to flirt with her. OK OK I was drunk - but I wanted her to have a good time, it was her last night, she just wanted attention - not ass, and I she had already made her intentions known. She's gained a little bit of weight recently. She went from like a size 0 to a size 5, so she's still small, but she feels self conscious. I'm not sure if bribing the GM with attention from me later so she would get attention last night was such a good idea.
- My classmates saw I could dance, and were SHOCKED. "I never thought you could tear up the dance floor like that nic, daaaaaaaamn." Again, M was confused: "Are you kidding me, she shakes her ass like there's no tomorrow."
- A classmate danced with me and tried to make out with me. I pecked him. I think about this today and I want to vomit. Dating within the ranks of our med school is no bueno. I can't stop cringing. EW EW EW GROSS.
- I called TB's school apartment in germany drunk as hell 4:30 am our time, like 9 something AM his time. Drunk dials are no bueno. Thankfully he didn't pick up, but that prompted a girl talk with A (M's friend) which made me cry. Not not little tears, those massive I'm drunk sobs. That was also very embarrassing. but it's ok, cause she cried too.
- One of us broke my toilet seat and I almost fell in. Also no bueno.

regardless, no more drinking for me. Done. People keep sending me messages to go out tonight, but no. I am in hiding. I think I'll just study path.

*cringe*

The final round

I'm back on the island, with only three and a half months until I'm finished. I came with two friends in tow - which has made the transition easier. I'm having fun. I'm enjoying the island, and thankfully nothing scary has happened while my friends have been here. I have realized that I've begun to think of this place as home. I was more comfortable driving here than in america, my room was nice and set up when I came back, and yes, I missed the beach (which I ran to right after registration and drove in) - brrr.

Home was nice, I guess I should update.

My best friend B found a boyfriend, who totally creeps me out. He's a local teacher who another friend of mine heard slept with one of his 18 year old students a year or so ago. But I was sworn not to say anything, so I sit there seeing her falling in love and get skeeved out when I think of the gossip (which may be false btw). She started picking him over us, which hurt. She brought him out everywhere with her, including my birthday dinner - which she dipped out of asap so she could spend the rest of the night with him. That kinda stung - but I was still in anti-emotion antigua mode and thought it bothered me I didn't understand it till about a week later when she kept bringing him along to everything.

Note to women, don't do this. Your friends want to see you, not you making out with your new man every 2 seconds. GAG.

New years came in with a bang. I got my new years kiss from a very attractive man who I found out later is in the navy (ACK!) and 21 (double ACK!). He keeps trying to keep in touch... I still find him attractive, but I need to get away from this military thing dammit. He WAS a good cuddler though... *sigh*

I hooked up with 2 people while at home, and by hooked up I mean kissed and cuddled with. One was hottie navy boy, the other was this israeli guy who not only barely spoke english, but was astounded when he found out I was persian and was actually giving him the time of day. The net day I came upon an article concerning israel planning on bombing iran - i didn't return his phone calls, haha.

The israeli had a really hot accent, and was your basic tall and skinny. The navy boy had a body made of rock, I made him do push ups with me on his back and challenged him to a sock race. (you know, where you wear socks, run real fast, and see who slides the furthest)


I shopped (FINALLY) bought new clothes, jeans, etc. Played with my doggie (who is even more of a little shit) and cried a lot when I had to leave him. I didn't get to see a lot of people or do a lot of things - my first days back were odd. I was... off. Unemotional. I can't really explain it.

It's like I didn't care about anything. Friends came to see me, tried to take me out to do things and I... just didn't care. Like with the B situation - I was sitting in the car on the way back from the bar the night of my birthday thinking... I should care about this. She's ditching me for him, why don't I?

I guess in antigua I built some pretty tough walls. With my girls being here my classmates are seeing another non bitchy side of me. Atleast 10 people have commented on it - telling me I seem happier.

I guess I am. I needed home.

God bless the USA.