Seven things I plan to do before I die:
Make my parents proud; I haven’t figured out how, yet.
Fall in love.
Learn to play the piano really well.
Live in a foreign country.
Be content with my everlasting existential angst.
Date a guy so good looking that he would make me want to vomit.
Learn to cook really well.
Seven things I can do:
Cook.
Play the piano.
Waste time.
Read till I feel like I can’t feel my eyes or brains.
Enjoy life regardless of existential angst.
Be straight with people.
Always wear really unique shoes. And I don’t mean that in a euphemistic way.
Seven things I can’t do:
Fall in love or feel anything even remotely close to it.
Not offend people. For me it comes naturally.
Have a day go by without obsessing over the state of my skin. I never should of bought the magnifying mirror in the first place!
Not be appalled by the “typical” Persian girl or guy.
Understand conservative or religious people.
Remember to take my medication on time. Ha ha. No I’m not crazy.
Balance.
Seven things that attract me to the opposite sex:
Intelligence.
Dark skin and facial hair.
Strength. Yes, both physical and emotional.
Generosity. I know I’m a feminist but sometimes I could really throw up on the stooges who take advantage of my self-proclamation.
Denial of social norms and conventions. Meaning: I would never be attracted to a doctor, lawyer, or engineer.
Willingness to explore new things. New things could mean a myriad of things.
Respect for family members.
Seven things I say most:
Fuck.
Ciao.
Boos Farsi for kiss.
Becholi. I have no idea what that would be in English, sometimes I doubt I even know what it means in Farsi.
I really need to get laid.
I’m bored.
Why am I here?
Seven celebrity crushes:
Ivo Pogorelich. If you consider a Serbian pianist to be a celebrity.
Seymour Hersh. I know that at this point if your still reading you think that I’m crazy.
Jon Stewart.
Bill Maher. I know that that is sick.
Jack Nicholson.
Nicholas Cage minus the Elvis mania.