9 ways I procrastinated writing today
Because everything is just too much right now
9 things I did today when I was supposed to be writing:
Watched a DIY video on cutting curtain bangs and managed, by the skin of my teeth, to fight the growing, incessant urge to cut my own bangs (again). Settled for trimming my face framing layers with a pair of eyebrow scissors.
Immediately realized I’d made a huge mistake.
Spent an hour deep diving NorCal hair stylists on the internet. Made an appointment for a haircut to fix the damage I’d done.
Cropped and chopped my Los Frikis tee representing my dear friend Tyler Nilson’s film set in 1990s Cuba, based on true events, and now available to stream. You should definitely watch it, but should I really be allowed to use scissors today?
Tried to call my Baba in Iran, again. Wasn’t able to get through, again. I haven’t spoken with him since Friday, and while he is thankfully located in the North, near the Caspian sea, far from the bombings in Tehran, the same cannot be said for the remainder of my extended family.
Watched this video explaining how the false narrative of Iran’s “nuclear program” has been carefully propagandized by Israel for the past three decades. I am so tired of screaming about the ways in which Imperialism and Western greed have manufactured consent to attack and annihilate indigenous middle eastern people, but here I am once again.
Sent silly selfies back and forth with Isaac. Thought about how we’re currently 400 miles away from each other and what would happen if the aggressions in the middle east escalated into domestic air space? How would we close that distance in an emergency? Reminded myself that preparation is not synonymous with paranoia. Interrupted my anxious pattern and resumed the selfie exchange as a much needed means of microdosing joy.
Finally triaged my poor rubber plant whom I’ve ignored for months and has struggled tremendously with her relocation to NorCal. Once a lush and lovely plant with a happy home in a south facing Los Angeles window, she’s since been relegated to minimal west facing light and has withered in protest. I will do what I can to salvage her through propagation, but it’s looking like a terminal diagnosis for this poor babygirl.
Took laundry from four days ago out of the dryer. Perhaps tomorrow I will procrastinate again by folding it. Maybe by Saturday it will have found its way into my closet and drawers.
Gave up and laid in the hammock to read The River Has Roots by Amal El-Mohtar, a queer Canadian Lebanese poet. This is by far one of the most gorgeously written novels I’ve had the pleasure of consuming in quite some time; I have read the first 10 pages at least three times through, not wanting to near the end. Every single page takes my breath away.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll have the bandwidth to write about how it feels to be a diaspora Iranian in today’s sociopolitical climate. Maybe tomorrow I’ll find the words to express the heaviness in my heart while watching my homeland devastated by Israeli bombs, funded by American tax dollars. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up with the energy to tell you about what it was like for me growing up in the United States with a thickly middle eastern name, the ways I ran from my heritage because this country taught me that my people were terrorists, the ways I finally came home to myself by reclaiming it.
Maybe tomorrow, inshallah. Until then, I’ll be in the hammock, cradled by a forest of pined, praying for the Empire to crumble.
A little bit of everything,
Neghar
Sending you love, my friend. Empire must crumble.
Have you read This Is How You Lose The Time War? You would love it. 🩷
It is too much
Love and light