Our path, thoughts, and beliefs are things that we have created ourselves. We should use them to our advantage in facing challenges because they are our own wealth. We determine the way of life for the next generation. By understanding the new modern world and its challenges, and finding solutions for it, we are the bridge between the last traditional generation and the first modern generation. Like everyone who lived during the first and second world wars. We are the bridge between the last remaining generation from the First World War and the traditional life that was referred to as modern life at that time. We are the sad, excited generation, like every other event that each of us experiences in our lives.
I started the day with a traditional effort to be cheerful, but by the afternoon, I was back home and realized that nothing significant had happened. Logically, something should have. I was sprawled on the couch, checking the world on my laptop to keep up, when a friend texted asking where I was.
I felt that the most exciting part of today could be this very event. Sometimes, you have to create your own excitement.
My transition from Sleep to Standby, Ready, and finally Balanced, and then getting dressed took no more than 30 seconds. The meeting was scheduled for 10 minutes later, and the normal walk to the street to catch a taxi took 10 minutes. Although it wasn’t without errors—I forgot to grab my wallet.
It was worth the challenge. I was at the taxi stand 4 minutes later, waited 3 minutes for a taxi, and was at the meeting spot 3 minutes after that.
Currently listening to the second part of Lorca Garcia Federico’s poems, with translation and voice by Ahmad Shamlou.
Today, as I was heading home, I had a severe neck pain from standing all day. To ease the pain, I involuntarily tilted my head towards the sky and realized how much I missed the stars. How much I longed to watch the sky.
The last vivid image of a starry sky away from the city I have in my mind is from a night when my family and I, along with the late uncle, were near “Qinargeh” in Ardabil. The entire sky was filled with small and large stars, and I also recall a blurry image of the Milky Way.
I miss the simplicity of those days.
Today, after a long time, I spent the entire day with my family. We visited old parts of the city that we hadn’t been to for a while: Maqbarat al-Sho’ara, Shahnaz, the Tabriz Bazaar, and Baghe Golestan. The last one was more nostalgic for my father than for me.
I also tried to mend a fractured relationship. Recently, I’ve become addicted to a kind of semi-sweet treat called “Mikado,” mainly because of its sheer simplicity. You go to the store, buy it, sit in a corner and eat it, and then throw the wrapper in the trash. Pure simplicity.
You don’t think about any complex equations while eating it. Unlike cigarettes.
I will have tough days until the end of December. I need a calmness that can be injected into me, not something I need to discover.
While listening to “Unutdunmu Sevdigini” by Ali Kinik.
Once you start recognizing the signs of ADHD, you begin analyzing everything, and your mind gets used to all the “what-ifs” and “so-whats.” The result is that even moments of solitude and efforts to not think about anything end up being filled with intense overthinking, analyzing the most trivial things to achieve the most insignificant mental goals.
Everybody just wants to be liked and accepted.
Except for Tom
Tom doesn’t give a shit.
The hardest moment of quitting smoking isn’t 23 hours after the last cigarette, but the next day. When you find yourself in the exact same time and place where you had the last smoke. It feels like dragging your hand across a smooth surface only to disrupt the harmony of that surface with a small dent. The feeling it created is gone. It’s as if something is missing that should be there. If someone can get through this phase, it can be said they’ve quit smoking.
A few days ago, the rain fell in an unusual way. It reminded me that the days I’ve lived so far are like those first 23 hours. The 24th hour, the same time and place, will come eventually, and only then will I understand how I fared. The scary part of this is that in those moments, I might not be under my own control. Hard days are ahead.
While listening to Solamanet Tú.
Over twenty years of my not-so-remarkable life have passed, and I’m still left with the regret of not being able to trust someone without ending up disappointed. It’s a painful tragedy.
I have a simple solution: let’s teach The Little Prince from the first grade. Maybe the next generation will turn out better.
If you’ve seen strange tweets from accounts with unusual usernames recently, be aware that Twitter generates these usernames randomly and they include character strings related to the email address. In other words, these individuals’ emails also have random, automated character strings. More specifically, these accounts, which often exhibit humorous behavior, are managed by a single person or group for an unknown purpose. Before mentioning them or making fun of them, think twice.
Light rain is falling. After a night full of stress and a tough morning, I’m lying on my bed. Ali Kınık is singing, “Even the children know that Ali loves Aisha.” It’s been a long time since I’ve had this kind of mental void.
In the midst of this, I’ve realized I need to delete half of my contacts. For the third time in the past two years. Peace is a beautiful thing.
We bought our first car when I was 7 years old—a Peykan 57. Although we had a car for a short time before that, I don’t know why we bought it or why we sold it. I just remember one hot, probably summer day when my father came home with it. I played with the air vent, one of those circular ones divided by a diagonal line. But in my mind, our first car is the one we bought when I was 7.
After that event, our leisure activities shifted from going to parks to going outside the city. Our first trip was a one-day excursion on the Tabriz–Shabestar road, near a river and a lot of buckthorn trees. I still feel the cold of that river water between my toes.
That trip was accompanied by the album Seni Sevmeyen Olsun by Ceylan. One of our acquaintances brought the cassette from Turkey. It was hard to find things like that back then. Those were good days.
While listening to a song from 90s Turkey.
