20041220
homebound
Like many before me, I became obsessed with the idea of home once it was taken away from me. At the age of 13, I suddenly realized that the unique blue of the sky, the particular slant of the light on the snow-capped mountains and trees, the colors of earth and sky at different seasons and different times of the day, certain smells and, most important, the language called Persian, so evasive and yet so intimate made up that vague yet cherished entity I called home. All this was taken away from me when I was sent to a town in England named Lancaster, with its grey skies and constant rain, without mountains and without sun. That was when I realized how close and yet how elusive home is, and how easily lost. All that I had left of home were my memories and the language, the portable world I could carry. ...
The second time I lost my home was when I returned to it after the Islamic revolution in 1979. I knew it as soon as I landed in the Tehran airport. I always try to remember the great critic Theodor Adorno's claim that the highest form of morality is to not feel at home in one's own home." That, of course, is what great works of imagination do for us: They make us a little restless, destabilize us, question our preconceived notions and formulas. I have to be grateful, then, to the Islamic Republic of Iran for making me pose myself as a question mark, for not making home feel like home. - From "The Republic of the Imagination: In which the author of Reading Lolita in Tehran dreams of a better world through literature," by Azar Nafisi. The Washington Post, Dec. 5, 2004. Page BW10. [ full text ]
when a new supervisor from new york city took the cubicle across from me, i immediately changed most of my attitudes at work - dressed more in black, less in khakis, picked up assignments sharper. everyone in the office perked up when she was around - more ties, more heels, more yelling and trading information more efficiently.
like most offices whose headquarters are in new york city, we mark the nyc office, note the fun ones, avoid the strange ones, and harbor grudges against the entire nyc staff, down to the technicians. in my office, at least, the center of the midwest, i have tenderer feelings for the technicians in good ol' kansas city, missouri, than the frazzled-sounding goofy graphics designers two floors down ap editorial hq. you always hold on to the things that you know, and the nyc office, especially since they've uprooted from 50 rock(efeller center) to some 32nd street or other and had softened to their colleagues elsewhere in the world, still deserve some level of "eh? what do you want now?"
after about three months, the new supervisor finally relaxed, looked up from her workstation, and noticed humans all about her. she marked my phone quirks and cracked blanket jokes, "are you all snappy coz you're wearing black? people in new york are like that." ah, the new person with the high rank is settling in.
maybe the difference between imagined nyc mystique and chicago cheerfulness isn't so different to them, because they've lived in this country all their lives. for most immigrants, the change is so drastic that sometimes they never recover. i know when i return home, quezon city's moved so far along ahead of me, i'll have to play catch up. it's a viscious unfairness that the city will have to keep on asserting, because she knows i left a waiting life in chicago, and i won't be staying for long.
ehehehe. fun. :wink: ¶ 12/20/2004 03:30:00 PM
The second time I lost my home was when I returned to it after the Islamic revolution in 1979. I knew it as soon as I landed in the Tehran airport. I always try to remember the great critic Theodor Adorno's claim that the highest form of morality is to not feel at home in one's own home." That, of course, is what great works of imagination do for us: They make us a little restless, destabilize us, question our preconceived notions and formulas. I have to be grateful, then, to the Islamic Republic of Iran for making me pose myself as a question mark, for not making home feel like home. - From "The Republic of the Imagination: In which the author of Reading Lolita in Tehran dreams of a better world through literature," by Azar Nafisi. The Washington Post, Dec. 5, 2004. Page BW10. [ full text ]
when a new supervisor from new york city took the cubicle across from me, i immediately changed most of my attitudes at work - dressed more in black, less in khakis, picked up assignments sharper. everyone in the office perked up when she was around - more ties, more heels, more yelling and trading information more efficiently.
like most offices whose headquarters are in new york city, we mark the nyc office, note the fun ones, avoid the strange ones, and harbor grudges against the entire nyc staff, down to the technicians. in my office, at least, the center of the midwest, i have tenderer feelings for the technicians in good ol' kansas city, missouri, than the frazzled-sounding goofy graphics designers two floors down ap editorial hq. you always hold on to the things that you know, and the nyc office, especially since they've uprooted from 50 rock(efeller center) to some 32nd street or other and had softened to their colleagues elsewhere in the world, still deserve some level of "eh? what do you want now?"
after about three months, the new supervisor finally relaxed, looked up from her workstation, and noticed humans all about her. she marked my phone quirks and cracked blanket jokes, "are you all snappy coz you're wearing black? people in new york are like that." ah, the new person with the high rank is settling in.
maybe the difference between imagined nyc mystique and chicago cheerfulness isn't so different to them, because they've lived in this country all their lives. for most immigrants, the change is so drastic that sometimes they never recover. i know when i return home, quezon city's moved so far along ahead of me, i'll have to play catch up. it's a viscious unfairness that the city will have to keep on asserting, because she knows i left a waiting life in chicago, and i won't be staying for long.
ehehehe. fun. :wink: ¶ 12/20/2004 03:30:00 PM
