My Mother Never Worked

Version: Two

After hearing that my mother had to do undergo surgery on Thursday, I tried to imagine my life without having her around. I tried not to picture her running around, doing endless chores with that small smile on her face. I tried to imagine going home without her standing at the doorway, waiting for me patiently. I tried to forget the feeling of her cool hand on my feverish forehead whenever I was sick, but that seems impossible. My life without her would be empty and miserable.

Yet, it is funny that I usually don't bother to thank her for the delicious meal she has cooked or the kitchen that she has cleaned. I don't bother to ask her if she needs any help or if there is anything wrong in her life. Yes, I know you and I have taken our mothers for granted, and I'm afraid when we finally realize what a treasure they are, it just might have been too late.

People expect too much from housewives: "Be a perfect cook, perfect woman, perfect wife, perfect mother. Be perfect in everything you can think of. It is your duty! You do not have any jobs, what are you doing with your time?" Have you ever heard them complain? Have you ever seen them give up? It is just who they are: Loveable creatures who will love you until the last day of their lives.

No insurance, no payment, no holidays, it sounds insane to me; it is as if they are machines, designed to work and suffer silently; still, I believe the biggest sacrifice they make is giving up on their dreams. Can you imagine yourself doing that, giving up on something you love? But you and I know they do that every day, because to them it is the family that matters the most.

Knowing that women give all they have to make living comfortable for their family without asking anything in return, or even accepting the tragic ending of "My mother never worked" makes me certain that just because we live in the twenty first century does not mean that injustice does not exist anymore.

Nothing is true; everything is permitted.

Nothing is true; everything is permitted.

Mr. Hussein said this sentence in the critical and creative writing class. For some unknown reason, I've been unable to stop thinking about it. It somehow reminds me of Dostoyevsky's famous sentence in brothers Karamazov which was something like: "If God does not exist, everything is permitted."

In my opinion these two sentences are pretty much the same. We can say that God is the ultimate truth, right? Then if we claim that the first sentence is true, could we claim that God does not exist?

Let's forget about Dostoyevsky for a second. Can we say that there is no truth? Mr. Abednia argued that that there is no single truth. Every body sees things differently, ergo nobody can be purely objective.

I do not like this explanation very much.

Let me give you an example: In the class, I said that there is a board on the wall. Mr. Abednia asked me what the color of the board was and I did not answer, because I was aware that each of the students would have a different opinion about the color, which is exactly my point! We have different opinions! Just because I think the board is green and somebody else blue does not mean that there is no board.

I think truth is like water. If we pour it in a glass, it would be in a shape of a glass. If we pour it in a bowl, it would become like the bowl, but that does not mean that water has become something else. Water is water no matter how it looks.

Ok, I don't know what I'm writing anymore.

What is writing and what should it involve?

Version: Two



According to some dictionaries, writing is a method of representing language in visual or tactile form. Writing systems use sets of symbols to represent the sounds of speech, and also have symbols for such things as punctuation and numerals.

Writing, in its textual form, began after accounting, calendaring and trading became too complex, and a need for recording historical events emerged. Throughout history, writing developed from ancient scripts on stone and clay tablets to parchments, to the form which we are familiar with nowadays.

Indeed, the description above seems solid and concrete, but why something seems to be amiss? Is this what writing really is?

If we accept that the definition of literacy, according to National Council of Teachers of English, is the ability to read and write and use numeracy, to handle information, to express opinions, to make decisions and solve problems, as family members, workers, citizens and lifelong learners, then we must also accept that our classification of writing is too limited.

The problem starts with the fact that along with writing, we always imagine pen and paper, and in modern times, computers and text messages, whereas I believe it has a much broader meaning. Billboards, prescriptions, restaurant menus, equations and even road signs can be considered pieces of writing that we fail to notice in our everyday life.

Let's broaden our view even further; have you ever heard people say that their life is written, or do you agree with existentialists on the fact that humans are the authors of their own destiny? Do you think that the notes on a music sheet are a form of writing, or a ballet dancer is writing something with each movement of their body?

Do you think that animals will ever be able to write? For example, do you think that if we teach a monkey the alphabet of a certain language, it would be able to write, or do you believe that writing is exclusively a human ability?

In my point of view, writing is a means of creation, and creation is a unique gift that makes mankind different from any other living thing. Creation is what brings us closer to what our souls seek, and writing is the language that helps us reveal this in different forms, even if it's something as simple as a note on a get-well card.

Considering our second question, do you believe that what we learn is enough to make us good writers? And by good writers, I mean writers that can create something valuable and original that can have an impact, if not on the world, their society or the people they associate with, then at least on themselves to show they indeed want to understand and change. Do you think that learning Grammar, punctuation and understanding what supporting sentences are is enough to make a writer out of us?

The answer is no. Of course, these are some of the tools we need to have, for if we create something that is full of flaws, our efforts would be fruitless and the disadvantages would be much more than the benefits, but by no means are they enough.

In order to be a good writer, first, we need to develop our understanding of the world, our ways of thinking, analysis and criticism, and learn to voice our objections and support them when needed. We need to see and read well, gain knowledge, evaluate the information and finally write something-it doesn't necessarily have to be on a piece of paper-that shows that we indeed want to change the world for better.

I do realize that my definition of a good writer appears idealistic or even impractical, but then again maybe that is why we are here. Perhaps we need to bend some rules, break some others and pay a price to make humans, even if it is just ourselves, into writers they are meant to be.

Alienation and Superstitions

Alienation: Dr. Sharyati has given a fine example of alienation in one of his articles: He mentioned Charlie Chaplin's movie "modern times", in which the tramp changed from a human being who was capable of feeling, expressing emotions and being human to a factory worker whose job was just to screw nuts. In the movie, the tramp lost himself, and that is what alienation means.

Religious alienation: "is nearly the most common of all forms of alienation. For by putting forth clearly defined moral rules that often conflict heavily with natural human instincts, religion tends to guarantee that those who follow their gut instincts become sinners and thus alienated. The majority of people in a religion were socialized as children in it, and this is a clear case of involuntary exclusivity. The socialization process in regards to religion reaches to such a deep extent of the human psyche that years after deviating from the most rational people still feel as though they are sinners, deep down."(Alienation definition by Alexander Chapman and Leoy Chan)

I believe religious alienation is exactly what some of our people are suffering from. This alienation prevents them from seeing the truth, and unfortunately, there are some people who are benefiting from this. Prison does not have to be a confined place. This is a prison in its worst kind." A prison that you cannot smell, taste or touch, a prison for your mind."(The Matrix)

So you see, our problem is much bigger than what it looks like. Is anyone surprised that some people believe in some silly superstitions? As long as this problem exists, not much is going to change.

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AN: This is a reply to Mr. Naghipoor's nice article "more superstitions".

Responsibility

I'm scared these days.

The Election Day is getting closer and closer.

Some are defending the candidates they want to vote for, some others are bashing the other candidates, and there are some who prefer to sit in the back seat and do nothing at all.

I feel like I am stuck in the middle. I try to keep an open mind. I try to consider every aspect before making a decision, but it is easier said than done.

The biggest problem is that I do not know how to get to know the candidates. Frankly, I do not trust what people say. It is worse when it comes to newspapers and the media. I get so frustrated sometimes. Why does politics have to be so complicated?

And I am scared. I am afraid that I might make the wrong choice. I know it sounds silly. It is just one vote after all, but it is all I can do for my country at the moment, and making a wrong choice sounds like betraying my people to me.

Voting is a big responsibility, isn't it?

The Cumulative Sentence

He is a strict man, tall and thin with long hands and legs and a straight back, not much hair, eyebrows that are closer to his eyes than they should be, a large nose, a mustache that has turned gray and a straight line on his face that never bends upwards.

The Freight-train Style

I stand on the edge and I spread my arms and the wind is blowing on my face and the stars are shinning above my head and the cars are passing by beneath my feet and they are whispering my name and the gravity is bringing me down and I know I will be in their hard arms soon.