Iran

http://idiomagic.livejournal.com/144770.html

An email from an Iranian woman named Fayah about her plans for Thursday's protests:

"I love life. I love to laugh and be with my friends. There are so many books I want to read, movies I want to see, people I want to meet. I want to marry, to be a good wife and mother. I want to grow old with the people I love, to feel the sun on my face, to see the ocean, to travel.

My country is in a terrible state. People have no jobs. There is no money. People have no freedom. Women must hide themselves from the world, and we have no choices.

Our people--we are not terrorists. We hate terrorists. And that is what our government has become. They kill our people for no reason. They torture us in their prisons because we want freedom. They make our country look evil, they make our religion look evil.

We are fighting for our freedom, for our religion, for our country. If we do nothing while injustice abounds, we become unjust. We turn into the ones we hate.

I have to fight. I have to go back on the streets. I will make them kill me. I will join Neda, with my friends, and then maybe the world will hear us.

I never thought I would become a martyr, but it is needed. The more of us they kill, the smaller they become, the more strength the people will have. Maybe my death will mean nothing, but maybe it will buy my country freedom.

I am very sad that I will never be a mother, that I will never do the things I love, but I would rather die than do nothing and know that I am to blame for the tortures, the murder, the hatred.

Please tell the world how much we love life. That we are not terrorists. We just want to be free."

summer summer

Despite the heat, summer is my favorite time of year. It's unrelentingly bright. Many of my best memories take place in summer. I can't ever hear U2 without thinking of Christian and his acoustic guitar, the spicy sweet green scent of linden trees makes me think of Prague and the world before 9/11, the combination of hot concrete and cold water, the heat radiating from the ground, staying up night after long night, swimming pools during the day, Sonic cherry limeades and onion rings. In summer time I went to concerts, lived whole other lives, escaped adult supervision.

Recovering from surgery sucks. I can't stand this feeling of weakness, getting worn out from the most basic things. Anything that involves bending at the waist is nigh impossible. The healing stitches upset me because they itch and hurt and look grotesque. Plus this whole not being able to sleep in any sort of comfortable position makes me cranky. I haven't been able to sleep in my bed for more than a week. Tonight I'm going to try by piling sofa cushions and pillows into a giant nest.

Mike bought me hair dye and sushi today. So I can finally fix my hair that has turned blond with some faint bluish highlights by going back to black.

The robot is mopping the kitchen. Yay for robots.