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Tag: Diaries

Happy Nowruz 2023, I promise to watch the sky more

The sunset of the last day of the year and the sunrise of the first day of the new year signify the end of another chapter of life and an excuse to renew everything we have or want to have. It’s like starting from Sunday, but at least it gives us a chance to think about refreshing the worn-out things in life and appreciate them.

As I write this post, I think about the past years. I think about the non-thirties who were almost climbing one of the surrounding mountains every week and looking for an opportunity to be in nature. He loved the mountains and wanted facilities for longer trips and to discover new things.

Now that these facilities are more or less available, I am unfortunately caught up in the routine of daily life and employment. The few remaining hours of the day are spent on relieving tiredness, cleaning, and driving (not walking). Five years ago, everything I have now was a wish for me, and today, the very things I own are the shackles and chains and the cause of my regret for not being able to return to the past [freedom of action]. Even writing this post causes the clamor of the worn-out part of me that has written 120 posts in a year.

It has been a long time since I have deviated from the semi-goals I had, and even if I don’t mention the destructive feeling of FOMO, I still have the feeling of being a soldier who all his peers have been discharged and I am left with months of extra service in an environment where I have the smallest sense of belonging.

Something that is clearly evident is my need for change. Something that is not clear is the power and ability I have to destroy anything I have created so far, and something that is not clear at all is whether it is really worth it or not. Recently, one of my closest friends, who shares a similar mindset to mine, asked me if it is really necessary to destroy everything we create. Is this a form of masochism and an inability to handle peace?

Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not.

However, I still want to be a hunter-gatherer. I still need the ability to stare into human eyes. I still cannot enjoy the habit of looking down. I need a change, and this change starts with a promise. I promise to watch the sky more.

Our way

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.

Working from Home vs. Working at the Office

Someone once said that the reason Steve Jobs didn’t hire me was that my house doesn’t have a garage. He didn’t say it explicitly, but it was somewhat implied. The productivity that exists in a dedicated workspace is not even one percent present at home. At least not for me. And bad habits resulting from that. For example, being able to work in a place where there isn’t a bed or a couch to lie down on when my brain needs a break.

My blood donation story

Following two issues, I decided to donate blood. One was that several people suggested that I undergo cupping therapy for my allergy treatment (which I don’t believe in, so I decided to donate blood, which is almost the same mechanism). The second reason is that life has been tough lately and I want to help those who need it while making myself feel better.

First attempt, December 10, 2014: I planned to go with my friend Vahid. He has been doing this for a long time and it was time for his next donation. This reduced some of my stress. However, after we arrived late, they told us that humanity currently does not deserve to use my blood. They asked us to come back on Sunday when they are open. So, it didn’t happen.

Second attempt, December 14, 2014: Finally, it happened, but not without a story. After Vahid finished his donation, I followed suit, but for a moment, I didn’t realize what was happening and fainted on the bed. Since I was almost unconscious at that moment, Vahid explained what happened:

“Araz said his head was dizzy. I said it was probably just a normal headache. I called the guy to take him to the bed. They took him to the bed and splashed water on his face and told him to cough. Suddenly, he said he couldn’t hear anything. My heart stopped. We splashed water on his face and shook him a few more times until he came back to his senses.”
– Vahid (@vahidrsj)

If you want, you can donate blood too. They are open from 10 am to 6 pm. The blood donation center is located across from the Kaboud Mosque.

Jobs in here and there

I have been involved with international job search websites for a while and I have noticed an interesting issue that I think is better to be said than left unsaid. In most foreign job offers, after announcing the desired field, they state why it is better to choose them and send them their resume. Unlike domestic offers, they do not say that you should have certain conditions to be the best candidate. Their assumption is that the right to choose is with the job seeker, not the company looking for employees.

In addition to that, there is a strong bias towards specialization. The job field is “jQuery expert.” Please note that it is not a JS expert, just jQuery. This means that your job is just and only to use jQuery. In comparison, a front-end developer’s skill set required by the company includes more than 20 different skills. This is not an exaggeration.

Is there anything in the world worth living for?

Can this plan be changed? Or do we have to go back the entire 90-year path and forget everything? At what level of abstraction can we define the right? At what level of abstraction can we define the soil? What is worth dying for? Is there anything in the world that is worth dying for? On the other hand, is there anything in the world worth living for?

About my first school

The writing of Touraj Saberivand about school and his experiences with bullying reminded me of those days too. My mood was affected by those three-person desks. For a long time, I wished that something would happen to the person sitting in the middle, so my friend and I could sit together as a pair. And, of course, my wish came true and they were absent from the first third of the semester. I hate every moment of the bullying I experienced at Ibn-Sina Elementary School. I despise the teacher who hit me in the first-grade classroom. His fingerprints were on my face for a week. Many years have passed, but his face never leaves my mind.

If I was Romain Gary

Roman Gray ended his life with a gunshot on December 2, 1980, a year after his wife’s death in 1979. In a note he left behind, he wrote, “It was really good; thank you and goodbye.” If it were me, instead of “goodbye,” I would say something else. For example, “It was really good. Thank you and f**c you all motherf**cers.”

Job path

When I was in first grade of middle school, I bought my first MP3 player. Its 128 MB memory only allowed me to listen to music for a maximum of one hour, but it was enough to get me through the daily school commotion. One day, during a literature class, the teacher (if I’m not mistaken) appeared in front of me after calling my name several times without me hearing her. I took off my headphones quietly. Although I wasn’t facing a mortal threat with my good grades, her perplexed gaze was intolerable. Apparently, he asked everyone what they wanted to be in the future. Each gave an answer; of course, they all had one common characteristic, being a member of the array of doctor, engineer, or pilot. When he asked me what I wanted to be, I replied, “I don’t know.” he said, “You’re in the worst possible situation among these kids.” I still don’t know what I want to be, but I don’t think any of those kids have become doctors, pilots, or engineers.

PS: Recently, I saw a friend from that time who recognized some of the kids from back then and told me about their not-so-good fate, which prompted me to reminisce and write this piece.

To Vector

When I arrived at the office this morning and sat at my desk, I was shocked. My cactus, Victor, had withered and fallen. I don’t know if it was due to too much or too little water, or the strange weather, but whatever the reason, it caused one of the best gifts I had received from a dear friend to leave our office and stay on an empty desk. I’m distraught. I blame myself somewhat. Victor, please forgive me for not taking care of you. You will always be remembered.