me, myself and i

Is it weird that I feel like I’d enjoy hanging out with myself? I was thinking the other day what if I could be in a room with many different me’s, but each at a different stage of my life. There would be a 6 year old farid, before he starts elementary school, not a care in the world and probably annoying all the grown-ups around him (most people in that age group are not fun). There would be an 8 year old farid, in 2nd grade, learning the world around him and worried about memorizing persian poetry for school. A 14 year old farid, thinking he’s a man, and knows everything and is smarter than most people around him - what a jerk. The 18 year old, much more mature, thinking about his future, but still having it pretty easy and of course the 22 year old, with a million responsibilities wishing he could be 6 again. Maybe there would be a 2 year old farid, barely talking and pooping his pants, that’d be one I’ve always wanted to see.

If this were at all possible, what would I do, with ‘myselves’? I figure the 6 and 8 year old would just be playing with matchbox cars, occasionally the 22 year old would join in. The 18 year old would be too worried about his appearance and the females. The 14 year old would try to fit in with the older crowd, but he’d probably be made fun of by the 18 and 22 year old for his cockiness (what was I thinking?). Other than that I think I’d get a long with myself. My taste has stayed the same for the most part, except probably in music - having gone from pop to rap to techno to rock. Maybe if there was a 32 year old farid present, he could talk of my latest muse and speak of the horrific burdens my future holds. Grandpa farid would also be amusing, finally at peace and probably bitching about the noise level and bragging about his glorious past. Of course I’m not thinking of the repercussions on the space-time continuum. With this kind of power I could alter the universe - butterfly, flap your wings.

dont be afraid, its going to be ok

So you’re at the supermarket, minding your own business… picking up a few necessary items as well as some of the wants such as chips, salsa, beer and what not. After nearly an hour of wandering around you’ve finally picked up everything you came to purchase even though in reality you just needed some bread.

Eitherway, you’re finally at the counter waiting to pay for your items and get on with your life. Your eyes wander around the area, you look at what others infront/behind you have picked up and think to yourself what meaningless lives they must lead - box of napkins and ice cream, someone’s been dumped. You look at the tabloids mentioning yet another sighting of the three-eyed baby, look back at what you’re buying, basically doing everything possible to avoid the inevitable. Oh but its futile, in the back of your mind you cannot help yourself. So you think, maybe if I play it very cool and casual I can get away with it. You finally muster the courage to look in its direction, the chocolate counter, oh what a sight.

You try and pick up something quick hoping you’re not spotted. No time to decide, these decisions must’ve been finalized much earlier. Little do you know the cashier at this time is thinking “gotcha bitch”. You casually drop it in the middle of all your other items hoping that it will go by unnoticed, but sadly you’re wrong again. As the cashier scans the item, he gives you this look which pretty much says “I know what you’re thinking you fat ass, go on, feed, but know I’ll be judging you” and then he goes on to place the item in the little counter infront of you as to say “I know you cannot wait to have your mouth around this and therefore I’ll save you some bag ripping time later by giving this to you right now”.

There are a lot of fattening foods at the supermarket yet, for some reason, that snickers bar from the chocolate counter is the hardest to justify. Everything else has a legitimate reason, but that chocolate is only feeding your desire for calories. Sometimes you think of all these excuses in case you get caught in the act - “its for my nephew” or “i need it for research purposes”, but nothing flies, they all know.

I guess that is one benefit of being a parent, no one to accuse you of being a sloth. Luckily though most places have self-service counters for those of us with this kind of… eh .. problem.