I first experienced this ‘paranoia’ at the gym, since more often than not, no thanks to my lazy friends, I exercise alone. I noticed the first time you use any non-straightforward equipment is a tricky task. There is a time limit associated with your learning ability - let that drain and you must abandon the mission. (more…)

As a child, I attended Iranian elementary school, and anyone familiar with this system would tell you of the million laws of conduct enforced upon the students. I will not get into them here mainly because I could stretch this field into hundreds of more blog entries, but also because only one is relevant to my story.

For some reason, this institution felt that long hair on boys was a sign of rebellion and therefore we were forced to cut our hair short on a regular basis - as early as 6 yrs old. So you can imagine how having gone through this process many times as a kid would have had its toll on me. Either way, the point is that I spent a lot of time at the barber.

As curious as a I was as a child, over time, this procedure became fairly dull and in order to accommodate my boredom, I decided to become the model customer. I wanted to be the barbers star pupil - for him to thank me after the haircut for making his job that much easier. I anticipated every movement of his hand and tried to place my head into the correct position. Unfortunately, at 6 years old, it was very difficult to fully conceive this skillful art and no matter how close I got to completion, I’d eventually get a tap informing me of my failure.

So finally this past visit, after 16 years of unsuccessful attempts, I was determined to mark this one off my list. I showed up early to study my barber, but to my disappointment she was not present this particular day. I was moments away from rescheduling my appointment when I realized that I had waited too long to back out now. I stepped out for some fresh air and then went back in with my game face on. I took notice of this new barber, and studied her scissor etiquette. She was not your ordinary barber. Her style was hard to read and her approach unorganized - but this was all added incentive for me to master this cut.

My time finally arrived and I was exuding with confidence. I sat on the chair as she fastened my cape tight; It was game time. It started off fairly easy with slight tilts left and right, but, like a video game, with each step the process became more and more difficult. Towards the end I was juking rapidly to stay a step above her. She was pulling all kinds of tricks, moving from scissors to machine and back in a fraction of a second. She was good, but I was better. I could see she was getting frustrated as if there was some sort of barber-law I was breaking, but I didn’t care. At this point I was seeing ten moves ahead and welcomed her every challenge.

Twenty or so minutes passed and she finally gave in. She put the scissors down and loosened the cape. I had won the battle. She gave me a vengeful nod but I could see deep inside I had earned her respect. Only issue with my performance was that I allowed her to move my ears. Though, to my defense, I think using my own hands in the middle of her routine would have been highly inappropriate and probably would have required an explanation. Perhaps in another 16 years I’ll reach a level where I can move them hands-free, but until then, I shall remember this historical day as a life lesson. If at first you don’t succeed, you have another 200 tries :).

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.

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.

That is why this Earth Day I’ll be celebrating at a Damien Rice concert with a portion of the proceeds going to uhh the Earth