In Time

Do you ever wish you could go back in time and knew what you knew now then? Of course you did! What person on earth does not wish that?! We all wish we knew then what we know now. We would have made better decisions, would have known what to do, blah blah blah. But then what would we have learned? Nothing. What would we have gained? Nothing. Probably would have only gained a big head thinking we are so good in this game we call life. Truth of the matter is, I think it is a secret, we are not supposed to know what to do. But can we have a few notes? Some guidelines perhaps? 

Sure! If there is a cliffs notes for Hamlet, I think we can have one for life as well. Now, funny thing about these guidelines; they are not books, rather they are living human beings. Wonderful and exciting human beings. Ever heard of “don’t judge a book by its cover?”

Well, don’t judge your elders based on their appearance. Yeah they may walk a little slower and you may need to repeat a few things to them every now and then, but what? That does not mean they have not led extraordinary lives and do not have any rich memories/life lessons to bestow upon us–no. Talk to them, listen to them, breathe in their words. Listen to the powerful words they unleash. It is so beautiful when they speak, you almost want to cry tears of happiness. It is as if they take all your stress and worries, and send them away.

Spending time with our elders reminds us to be thankful that we are living, breathing, healthy, and happy; happy to be a part of this world and a part of our loving, warm family. They teach you things you can not learn in school or from books, they teach you to let go. Why are their words so powerful, you wonder? Well, simply because they are living breathing proof. They have played the game, now they are on the sidelines smiling and cheering you on. Be happy.


Peace & love,



Did anyone listen to Miley?

Remember in high school when we had those papers where we were supposed to analyze a story? Write an analysis of a quote from Romeo and Juliet? A critical lens comparing two pieces of literature? Yeah? Shuddering at the mere mention of it? Well, I for one LOVED it. I could not have been happier; I remember I used to get so excited I simply could not decide which quote or picture to use. It was the equivalent of choosing an outfit for an important event–you want it to be your best. I don’t know, I have always liked symbolism, interpreting quotes and seeking the hidden message. I think it is so cool for the author to make it a mystery and not be too blatant by giving clues. It is alluring. So where am I going with this?

About two months ago, I heard Miley’s song on the radio–from start to the last tragic musical note. For those 3 minutes and 42 seconds, I felt like Miley took me on her sad journey. I felt betrayed, sad, disappointed; there was so much passion in that voice. I saw the video and it all made sense.  

She is wearing white to show her innocence, her purity. I am not calling her a virgin nor am I calling her a slut. She wanted love, she got caught up in it, she was that eager person waiting in line for the new roller coaster ride only to find out the ride made her sick to her stomach.

She is on the swinging wrecking ball to show that yeah she does ‘own’ it and ‘controls’ it by sitting on top of it but notice, it is the swinging ball that controls her, that moves her. Her feet are not touching the ground, she can not stop. Once it swings and if it hits a brick wall her only options are to jump and get hurt or close her eyes and get hurt. Only difference is when she jumps the anticipation of how much it will hurt will build up, with her eyes closed she is tense and clenched because she does not know how that pain is supposed to feel.

The hammer, metal cold, what does it do? It slams a fragile small pin in its place, keeps it there. Miley was hit, she was stuck. She made love to a cold hard hammer that left noting but a bitter aftertaste in her mouth

She lays there stripped of her clothes because she is stripped of who she is, who or what she is supposed to be. 

Her bare body on that cold metal wrecking ball shows the heartless cold relationship she was in, laying in that raggedy sharp bed of rocks shows she was never comfortable.

Starting off she is in white to show the innocence she had going in the relationship, ending it off bare shows how she was striped of everything she was. It is not to say she has no identity, but everything she believed in or thought she knew, has been demolished.

Also, I do not feel like she is trying to be a role model or set a standard for young girls. From the start of the video, seeing how minimal her makeup was, it just says, “hey..listen to me, can someone please just listen?” it is as if she is asking for help but more so of just asking for a shoulder to cry on, an ear to hear her, and a heart or warm soul to feel what she has been going through. After watching the video, I felt bad, like I wanted to give her a hug. 


She is human, just like the rest of us. She is new to becoming an adult, how old is she? Like 20? 21 I believe? At least she has the audacity to capture her sadness instead of faking a smile, putting a filter on it, and “hashtaging” it.

As always,


peace & love,



Happy Halloween

Come Fall, after the buzz of the first weeks of school follows the excitement of what character you are going to be for Halloween. It’s a fun, festive holiday that allows you to unleash your creative brain outside of its daily cubicle. This year, this oh-so-fun (kind of slutty) holiday conveniently fell in the middle of the week–hence my costume was: a tired as @!#$ student health professional. Hair in a bun, glasses, sweats, semester’s worth of papers in my bag and a packet of notes in my hand– if you’re not studying or reading drug related material, you are wasting your time. 

Growing up, Halloween was such an awesome time because it was like the whole world playing dress-up– it wasn’t just you on a Saturday afternoon wearing your mothers entire makeup collection on your face and dangly pearls. 


My grandma, on the other hand, was not too keen on this holiday. We wouldn’t dress up as zombies or ghosts or anything; we were always princesses or cute witches. But still, she would disagree mainly because the holiday is viewed as kind of making fun of the deceased. During the month of October where we celebrate our second Eid (not the one where we fast), we make this desert called saamanak. It’s basically from wheat grass and the process is quite tedious. When this desert is made, it isn’t your normal 4-6 people serving, you typically make so much that you give some to your neighbors, relatives and friends, AND have left some for your own family.

I thought it was interesting when someone brought it up and asked me, “Hey, do Muslims celebrate Halloween? Like are you allowed to? I mean, it’s just candy.” I mean, yes we can go trick or treating and give out candy to trick-or-treaters but we have to be respectful of the dead. It’s not about the candy, it’s more about not frolicking and partying in costumes that represent the dead and instead praying for them. 

Since I’m older now I see what my grandma was talking about. By dressing up in costumes of ghosts, ghouls and masks with bloody or scarred faces it is like we are making fun of them and as Muslims we should be praying for them instead of partaking in what my grandma calls it “horse-play”. 

 Anyways, it’s not like people dress up as witches and zombies anymore these days, it’s more like dressing up as celebrities and an excuse to dress more towards the wild side. 

So there ya go, a little tid-bit/fun fact of Muslim’s and Halloween. Hope you guys are having fun and are safe on this Hallow’s Eve!


Peace & Love,



There Are Parents, And Then There Are GRANDparents

Grandparents…grraaand…parents. They are grand, they are superior than your parents. What makes them grand? The way they greet you when you walk in the room, the way they look at you- with pride on their smiley lips like they could not contain themselves. It is cute, it is wonderful, it is sweet. September 8th was the day where you baked or cooked something for your Grandma or Grandpa, it was indeed Grandparent’s Day. 

My grandma once told me that the relationship of a grandmother to her grandchild is a sweet one, sweeter than with her own child.

“Okay, so imagine I am the peach, the peach pit is your mother, and that sweet little nut inside the know once you crack it open? That sweet, precious little thing? That’s you.”

I wanted to cry a little when she said that. ‘Oh my gosh..that’s like the cutest thing to say’, I thought. Heh…I’m kinda tearing up now as I’m typing this.

They can’t get mad at you; at least, not for long. They get over it and are just plain happy that you remembered to call them and ask how they were doing or something. I feel like every Sunday should be Grandparent’s Day. It’s not enough to just have it once in an entire year. Especially considering how lonely they get at their age? Most likely they are retired, bored, mostly sitting at home with nothing to do. And by just stopping by or calling in to say ‘hi’ I can make her day? Put a smile on her face that easily? Well, that’s nothing! Considering she was there to talk to me and cheer me up when I got in trouble, or when she would get on my side of the argument and told my mom to let me get that toy– arguing ‘she’s only 8 once!”.  

Grandparents give us special treatment all the time, let us return the favor..not only on that one September sunday, but all the Sundays to come. 


^taken on Grandma’s Day 

Peace & Love,


Four Seasons


ImageI never really liked when someone asked me what my favorite season was. I had always felt inclined to answer the season in which I was born in, but winter was not my favorite. Then I began to think and thought summer for sure– but wait! It gets too hot, and oy the mosquitos! Okay no…spring! Ah yes! But wait..oy the rain and cold/hot weather changes, nah…okay, fall? Kinda gets a little gloomy during that time. So that’s it? Nah..there has got to be a middle. And so I pondered on this thought and came up with this: as corny, cheesy, and cliched this my sound–every season has its beauty and part of the adventure is finding tranquility and finding yourself in each season. I believe we learn from our mistakes and part of this process is fixing our mistakes, therefore, we find ourselves changing, growing, and molding our personalities. Knowing who you are is a beautiful thing, because you realize your potential, your uniqueness, and how special you are. Summer. Despite the loud and bright images that usually come to mind at the thought of summer, I often associate it with deep thinking, tranquillity, and a time to reflect. I mean think about it, if you are a teen and you have just graduated, you are probably spending your last moments with your high school buddies before college begins and you drift off. You begin to realize how time has a way of escaping so fast you did not even see it. People go on vacations, some pick up more hours because they no longer have school, people get busier–with life, family, work, themselves, and then you reflect–think about yourself, what YOU have done so far. Think about the crazy year you have had and come to the realization that damn it! you need a vacation too! As you drift off to paradise, you relax, unwind, and rewire your brain, you breathe as if you are an advanced yoga instructor. You foreshadow the year ahead and what you liked or did not like about it and how you will go about to change it. You make dreams, you make plans, you get carried away from the hype of all the excitement around you. Barbeques are happening, people sipping a little too much of that “happy” drink and you all dream, which can be a beautiful beautiful thing. But then instead of tears of joy you might cry the other tears once summer comes to an end because you failed to fulfill your dreams or worse–you did not even get close…they were just dreams and no action. BUT reflect and DO. Do dream because THAT is your VISION, and do DO because that is your destiny, that is your life. See the beauty of summer and you will see the beauty in you.



Peace & Love,


Afghan New Year

Hello! It has been so long since I have written a blog post and I almost forgot how to begin. A month ago, I finished taking my last few finals. I was so thrilled to have finished the semester but did not feel the weight off my shoulders entirely because I needed to know my grades! After I found out my grades, it still took a few days for me to realize..I’m free?… It just had not hit me yet, I guess. But now…I’m BAAAACKKK!!!

And I want to make a fresh start…literally. With the start of a new season (no not Summer…yet!), especially Spring, one often imagines telling themselves, “new season, new me, spring cleaning, the flowers are in full bloom and I too shall bloom and blossom into something new and wonderful.” Well, new season, new wardrobe, new…year? Yup! The first day of Spring, March 20th not only marked the start of a beautiful new season but also a healthy and prosperous New Year for Afghans. My mother would always tell me how the start of the New Year in Afghanistan was often symbolized by the blooming of the arghawan tree.

Arghawan Tree

Similarly to how there is a Chinese New Year, an Afghan New Year also exists. Not to mention, there are several other countries who celebrate the New Year such as Iran, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and some other Central Asian countries. Note: not all Persians/Iranians, Turkish people, etc. celebrate the New Year, only because it is mostly a Muslim thing and not all Iranians are Muslims, Judaism also exists. Similarly in Turkey, there are Christians who don’t celebrate or recognize the start of Spring as the New Year–only the Muslims in Turkey.


The evening before the first day of Spring, we prepare the haft mewa –which literally translates to seven fruits. We take dry fruits such as green and red raisins, almonds, pistachio, walnuts, dried apricots, and Russian olives (the fruit/nut from the oleaster tree) and we soak it in a bowl filled with filtered water and leave it in the refrigerator.

The next day which is the first day of Spring, as you awake to the birds chirping and the morning dew or shabnam on the grass, the first thing you have is some haft mewa to start off the New Year on a fresh and sweet note.

Haft Mewa

My mother always says during Naw Roz to have some haft mewa to energize your brain and soul. Come to think of it…she spoke the truth. I like to think of the fruits symbolizing special meanings. For instance, the almonds and walnuts sharpens one’s mind making it fresh and energized for the New Year; the raisins provide antioxidants thereby providing strength and immunity, start the New Year off with a smile–let the sweet taste of dried apricots remind you about the sweet times in life, and the pistachios are like sparkling gems sprinkled in to foreshadow prosperity for the upcoming New Year.

haft mewa

Peace & Love,


My Very First Blog Award, Thank You!

When I first began blogging, I recall scrolling through countless of blogs and seeing many of them with these amazing awards! 


“Wow, what an accomplishment, must be nice to have that”, I would wonder.

And now, I have one myself! Thank you all for your support and kind words, and thank you Ruby ( for awarding me with the Versatile Blog Award. If you have not received this award already I would have definitely awarded you with this award.

Here are the rules for accepting the award:

  • Display the awards certificate on your website
  • Announce your win with a post and include a link to the kind person who presented you with the award
  •  Present up to 15 awards to deserving bloggers
  •  Create a post linking to them & drop them a comment letting them know!
  •  Post 7 interesting facts about yourself!

The awards go to *drumroll*


And now 7 random facts about myself:

  1. I speak Farsi fluently
  2. I dyed my hair only once
  3. I am IN LOVE with Hello Kitty
  4. I do not like working out in the gym
  5. I like watching old movies
  6. Cupcakes…‘nuff said
  7. I like the royal gowns the Queens used to wear centuries ago

Have a wonderful weekend!!


Peace & Love,


Pretty Pink Pout


MAC- Pink Nouveau

I bought a pretty bright pink lipstick that I absolutely love

But I’m not going to wear it now, I have a few things I need to take care of

Before I wear it I need to get my braces taken off

Before I wear it I need to get a pink lip pencil, not purple or mauve

Before I wear it I need to get the perfect pink lipgloss to match

And I’ll also wait until there’s a good lip balm I can catch


Well, the only thing you will catch are cobwebs, because if you wait until you are ready, you will forever wait.

There will always be “if’s” and “but’s” in life. Life is an obstacle and you have to look pretty while jumping the hoops. I realized I can not keep telling myself I will do something if x or y happens because then I will lose that moment. If you love something or want to do something, just do it! Because in the grand scheme of things, you will be glad you did.

Plus, we have one life to live, do not live it with regret. I understand it is easier said than done, but realizing to seize the moment even with something as small as wearing your pink lipstick, can help you realize bigger and more exciting plans! So carpe diem!

I’m not going to wait around until I have flawless skin or higher cheekbones to sport my bright pink pout, because let’s face it…I will grow older and it may not suit me later on and it might be out of style ;)


Peace & Love,


Why Do Afghan Men Wear “Eyeliner”?

When I tell people where my parents are from I always get the same response: “Oh, but you don’t look Afghan”, and then I just smile awkwardly and nod like “yup, that is my ethnicity…no, no I am not joking.”

This makes me curious as to how others expect Afghans to look like and the image they have in their minds. So I pretended that I wanted to know a little more about Afghans and a little more about their culture–I went to Google. As I started my search, one of the suggestions in the dropbox stated “why do Afghan men wear eyeliner?”. To be honest when I read that suggestion, I chuckled a little.

What? Haha, eyeliner?! 

I imagined a young teenage girl having seen Afghan men on the news with eyes smokier than hers and wondered “why do they wear makeup?”. Well my dear, do not fret, he did not copy your Covergirl look.

You see, it is not eyeliner…it is surma, pronounced suur-mah. It is like this coal/rich-black color powder that you apply, with the stick provided, inside your eye. It sounds complicated but it really is not. It is made from special rocks and minerals which are believed to improve vision (there is also a religious component to surma). Surma has been used for centuries and is found in many Central Asian and Middle-Eastern countries.


Many mothers apply surma to their newborns so that they have strong vision and because religiously it is good, many young preteen/teen girls apply it to look pretty since it so closely resembles eyeliner, and then there is the men. The majority of males who you see wearing surma tend to be from the village area; you would not see men from the city or urban areas wearing surma. The only reasons men from the villages wear it is in order to have strong/good vision and because religiously, it is considered good. Which is why if you see Afghan people on the news, for instance, not a lot of them are wearing glasses. This natural product has been used for centuries and has minerals that improve eyesight.

Along with health benefits, there is also a religious aspect attached to wearing surma. It is known to be religiously beneficial when worn on Friday night. Similar to how Sunday is the Holy Day for Catholics, Friday is to Muslims. On Fridays, it is believed that if you wear perfume and surma then God will be watching you. Not that the Afghan people do not wear perfume regularly, but on Friday’s it is considered to be more significant, religiously.

So to sum up on this surma “timeline”, almost everyone in Afghanistan wears surma because of the health and religious benefits, BUT at around age six or seven the males who live in the city stop wearing surma. On the other hand, the men who live off in far away villages continue to wear it.

So before you call child protective services on these people on how they put eyeliner on their young children, remember, it is not eyeliner; on the contrary, it is part of our culture.

Here I am as a baby wearing surma:


I do not know why I look so surprised, guess I was channeling the Gerber baby ;)


Peace & Love,


The Royal..erm.. Afghan Treatment


Just three days ago it was International Women’s Day. I was looking forward to this day since last year! I told myself that I would do something big next year, but alas, things happen over time, and we forget. I almost forgot it was our big day until a witty young lady in my class told the professor, “I think all the women in the room should be given an extra five points since we just spent our time taking an exam during our special day…”. International Women’s Day is a wonderful holiday since, unlike Mother’s Day, it celebrates all women! It is a day to acknowledge the power and strength of women. 

This day reminded me of a little story I wanted to share with you guys. 

There were these two men–an Englishman and an Afghan man. The Englishman visited the Afghan man’s house one day and realized that his wife didn’t shake his hand or welcome the Englishman with a kiss on the cheek, but rather, said hello with a nod and a smile. He was always curious as to why Afghan women dressed modestly and were so conservative. This finally prompted him to ask the Afghan man, “How come your women cover themselves up?” The Afghan man smiled and took two pieces of chocolate. He unwrapped one and left the other wrapped and threw them on the plate in front of him.

“Which would you prefer?” 

“The wrapped one, of course!” 

“Okay then,” the Afghan man replied, “that is why our women dress modestly”

“Alright, so then answer me this, how come they don’t greet and shake hands with other men?”

“Well, do you shake the Queen’s hand?”

“No! She is the Queen of England”

“So then? Same applies for our women– we treat them like Queens; they don’t shake hands with just anyone.”

Afghan or not, all women are special, all are powerful, all are Queens at heart.

And no, unfortunately, we did not get those extra five points.


Peace & love,