28 December 2016

How will I know when it’s come time to move on with things?

What if I’ve already stayed for too long?

In the days before, someone generally came and told me. Like no Naz, you’re not going to that school anymore but rather to this other one over here. Or those shoes are not right for a girl your age, Naz. Or now comes the part where you learn to drive, Naz.

You know. That sort of thing.

But no one does that for me now.

The problem is I am fine with how things are for me. Fine. I believe I have always been fine. Satisfied. Not unsatisfied.

Maybe I’m happy.

290,091,200,500,000,000 oscillations of the cesium atom

It’s all to come out as stories, then, is it? I would have expected pictures – selfies, perhaps, or bits from childhood – or else religion or politics or musics. It has been a year now, however, unless someone has gone and bungled my posting dates, and stories are all I see.

So stories it is.

I do have my favorites. I am neither neutral nor disinterested when it comes to my stories.

Below you will find my favorites from my first year of blogging. In case you missed them first go-around.

1.         The magic snake. 19 January 2016

 After posting this one, I started having readers.

2.         Sleeptalker / Vegetable man. 30 January 2016

 Living with my sister, in two parts. The story is in two parts, I mean to say. My sister remains in one.

3.         Pomegranates! 27 August 2016

 There are elephants here. And dancing slave girls. But never pomegranates.

4.         Swap. 24 July 2016

 A bit like the magic snake, only better.

5.         Open windows. 2 January 2016

            This is a happy little story. We all need more happy little stories.

That is all there is. Year 2 will be better. I promise.

The chairs of Abbu

As a child, I was told by my brother that our father had invented chairs, and I believed it.

Not a chair – not some specialized chair, something like might be trademarked and profited from – but rather chairs as in the entire notion of chairs. As in there had been no chairs, not anywhere, none at all, and then Abbu came along and invented one and now there were chairs.

Do not think me a fool. I was skeptical at first and I challenged my brother on his claim.

What Amy knew

My sister is a student at a school of medicine. This means that she knows how to perform terrible – or, I suppose conceivably, wonderful – procedures upon me, only she’s not legally permitted to do so.

As of yet, as of yet.

This in turn means – although it would not necessarily follow for anyone other than my sister – that it is to her professors she turns in officially diagnosing me with various ailments and subjecting me to frequent and outlandish medical tests.

After my recent migraine blog post, she’s gone and done it again. Here it is in the form A VERY SHORT PLAY:

A strange start, perhaps

I am going to tell you now about something strange that’s happened to me, a something which, to be perfectly honest, is in the process of still happening to me even as I write these words.

I don’t know how many posts this story might require. Perhaps I will go on to other things and then return periodically to it, as the something strange continues to develop.

Probably I will.

Ammi

Mother we call Ammi and she winces every time there’s a curse word on the t.v. Winces, like a you-walk-up-and-pretend-to-throw-something-at-her-head wince.

It’s visceral. 

She is not faking this.

Strange that a woman so smart so strong can be all but taken out by a single “damn”.

Once, in their home, I saw Abbu watching “Die Hard”. Ammi appeared nearly epileptic. And on Thanksgiving this year, Abbu flipping through channels on the t.v. said, “Hey, look: ‘Django Unchained’!” but we all talked him down from it, barely.

We laughed and laughed about it, too, but wow: How I wish the power of words could set off physical reactions in me.