"I am a mechanical engineer with a master degree from University of Toronto and a graduate certificate from Stanford University. I was wondering if indeed you have not listed Iran as a country people can graduate from with a degree as I couldn't find it listed and your search could not find my undergraduate university. My undergraduate degree is from Isfahan University of Technology in Iran. Please let me know how you can fix the pull-down menu so I can choose my school and continue with my registration. For your information I am already pursuing my MBA at Golden Gate University but preferred to transfer to San Jose State University which is closer to my work place and home. Please advise!"
This is what I posted on mba.com last night when I wanted to register for an official GMAT exam. I knew there was a way to go around this. After all so many of my friends and acquaintances have taken this exam around the world. I was just looking for an answer on why Iran was not even listed.
The brief response just indicates that I can leave the undergrad school blank.
What if I didn't have a graduate degree? I wonder, is this a punishment mba.com is imposing the Iranians? I wonder if people can be so resentful that they cannot comprehend the individuality of people, the brains, the souls. After all, don't you guys see there is a huge gap between people and governments particularly in that part of the world? Can't you realize the individuality of people beyond the location of birth? What do you know about Iran? What is the meaning of a country to you? Any one else born in any other country is assumed more worthy so their country will be listed?
I wonder, do I want to take the GMAT exam anymore? Can I talk to SJSU business school to provide me with an alternative? I can even stay in GGU where they elected to wave the requirement for GMAT score from me because of my strong technical background.
Ah! Healing Love. That's what we need.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Simply Living
It was a sunny but cold Sunday morning.
Despite the empty parking spots I parked far away from the store and walked for a while under the sun to warm up a bit. I grabbed a shopping basket and headed right to the isle I knew I could find what I was looking for. I noticed older couples shopping together. There were noticeably more bouquets of flowers. Roses were the norm for valentine; hence, I would buy daises I thought.
I imagined my dish. Looked good. I was certain I had gotten what I needed.
Walked toward the cashiers when I got invited to the just emptied one right at the very end. There was a blond guy there greeting me. I didn't notice his eyes. What color were they I thought later but didn't remember. He asked if I needed a flower bag for my flowers. Took me a few seconds to say "yes please; I just had my car washed". He laughed while obediently putting the flowers in the bag explaining he had also washed his car when he took his dog for a walk by a brook and only remembered it after the dog had jumped on the back sit after the walk. I said "too late" sarcastically. He asked "do you speak Farsi?" to which I responded positively. He said "I thought so". Oh! How? Interesting! He handed me my bag and said "rooz bekheir" with a nicely pronounced "kh" I was impressed. But I said "same to you, have a nice day" and left the store thinking why I didn't say it back in Farsi. Or why I hardly looked into his eyes to remember what color they were. I concluded I didn't feel like so, I rather just vanished away.
Remembered A.Z. and her description of complimenting strangers post a Starbucks stop we had a couple weeks ago. I smiled to myself.
Walking back to my far away parked car I thought I needed an antique flower pot with miniature roses for the window sill above my kitchen sink.
Despite the empty parking spots I parked far away from the store and walked for a while under the sun to warm up a bit. I grabbed a shopping basket and headed right to the isle I knew I could find what I was looking for. I noticed older couples shopping together. There were noticeably more bouquets of flowers. Roses were the norm for valentine; hence, I would buy daises I thought.
I imagined my dish. Looked good. I was certain I had gotten what I needed.
Walked toward the cashiers when I got invited to the just emptied one right at the very end. There was a blond guy there greeting me. I didn't notice his eyes. What color were they I thought later but didn't remember. He asked if I needed a flower bag for my flowers. Took me a few seconds to say "yes please; I just had my car washed". He laughed while obediently putting the flowers in the bag explaining he had also washed his car when he took his dog for a walk by a brook and only remembered it after the dog had jumped on the back sit after the walk. I said "too late" sarcastically. He asked "do you speak Farsi?" to which I responded positively. He said "I thought so". Oh! How? Interesting! He handed me my bag and said "rooz bekheir" with a nicely pronounced "kh" I was impressed. But I said "same to you, have a nice day" and left the store thinking why I didn't say it back in Farsi. Or why I hardly looked into his eyes to remember what color they were. I concluded I didn't feel like so, I rather just vanished away.
Remembered A.Z. and her description of complimenting strangers post a Starbucks stop we had a couple weeks ago. I smiled to myself.
Walking back to my far away parked car I thought I needed an antique flower pot with miniature roses for the window sill above my kitchen sink.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Earthly Love
It can be a browny. A rich chocolaty munch that leaves sticky residue on your fingers, even on your teeth.
It can be a mocha made for the love of it. Carefully melted chocolate in perfectly brewed coffee.
It can be a strangely delicious ice-cream. Bought in a local creamery, made with the passion of being other than ordinary.
It can be a dish of Pra Ram Thai cooked artistically in the kitchen of a small Thai place in the middle of nowhere.
It can be a home made pizza with added love of artichoke hearts, the fruit of love.
Or a traditionally made fessenjoon cooked in aunt Sh.'s kitchen with just the right amount of sour and right amount of sweet and the prefect burgundy color shining beneath the sparkling walnut oil.
It can be a green salad made with local organic greens and fresh figs from the backyard of the house of a beloved friend to be shared at a pot luck early evening dinner party.
...
There indeed is joy in earthly loves!
It can be a mocha made for the love of it. Carefully melted chocolate in perfectly brewed coffee.
It can be a strangely delicious ice-cream. Bought in a local creamery, made with the passion of being other than ordinary.
It can be a dish of Pra Ram Thai cooked artistically in the kitchen of a small Thai place in the middle of nowhere.
It can be a home made pizza with added love of artichoke hearts, the fruit of love.
Or a traditionally made fessenjoon cooked in aunt Sh.'s kitchen with just the right amount of sour and right amount of sweet and the prefect burgundy color shining beneath the sparkling walnut oil.
It can be a green salad made with local organic greens and fresh figs from the backyard of the house of a beloved friend to be shared at a pot luck early evening dinner party.
...
There indeed is joy in earthly loves!
School Overwhelmed
We got to visit the school today for an hour accompanied by the school principle. She seemed like a very nice lady principle. Th school facilities looked appealing. The library and all-apple pc lab really fascinated us. And the fact that kids of same ages only shared playgrounds. There were essentially three playgrounds. There seemed lots of emphasis on writing and reading. A browsed a couple writings in grade three class and got really fascinated by the level of imaginations. Finally, visiting grade five class was totally s shock! Kids were studying Latin. Gosh I don't know any thing about Latin vocabo! I felt totally overwhelmed by that. M thinks we can and will study with A when the time comes. I like the idea but I wish I already knew what he will study! Grade fours were taking a test. God knows I don't want to be them again. Yes i know I am studying still but grad school is totally different than elementary. Ah!
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Wishing For the Cliff
It was a gloomy and chilli winter afternoon. It was going to get dark soon. She looked at herself in the mirror as she zipped her jacket up slowly toward her neck. Her eyes had dark shadows around them, her cheek bones more pronounced. She didn't smile at the picture in the mirror. Just looked at her blankly. The zipper was all the way up. She just turned away from the picture, opened the door, and stepped out to the gray late afternoon.
It was the most boring drive to the coast. She couldn't listen to music, nothing fancy her desires. News and talk shows sounded even more boring. She just concentrated on her drive, and the pinkish gray sky. The sun was setting behind the hills.
The waves were crashing to the cliffs. The sun was kissing the ocean goodnight. She thought the sun always looked sad leaving, as if it was not sure it will be dawning again the next morning. As if it was the last sunset.
She sat on a cliff and hugged her elbows hunching down sniffing her running nose up. She wished for a shawl or a blanket. He would never forget one.
She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them now, just watched the setting sun and the sky with varying colors. It was a melancholy moment. She wished for God.
She felt a tightness in her chest and tried to inhale more forcefully but it didn't help.
The sound of the crashing waves appeared louder and louder as it got darker and darker. She bent her head on her knees and cried. No force to let them out of her tightened chest, no force to keep them up. She just cried.
It was completely dark now. Only the light of the nearby street was faintly reflecting on the border between the land and the waves.
She wished for a cup of steaming hot tea.
He threw a blanket on her shoulders, hugging her from behind helping to warm her up with the heat of his manly body. "I knew I could find you here" he whispered in her ear.
The crashing sound of the waves continued through the cold winter night.
It was the most boring drive to the coast. She couldn't listen to music, nothing fancy her desires. News and talk shows sounded even more boring. She just concentrated on her drive, and the pinkish gray sky. The sun was setting behind the hills.
The waves were crashing to the cliffs. The sun was kissing the ocean goodnight. She thought the sun always looked sad leaving, as if it was not sure it will be dawning again the next morning. As if it was the last sunset.
She sat on a cliff and hugged her elbows hunching down sniffing her running nose up. She wished for a shawl or a blanket. He would never forget one.
She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them now, just watched the setting sun and the sky with varying colors. It was a melancholy moment. She wished for God.
She felt a tightness in her chest and tried to inhale more forcefully but it didn't help.
The sound of the crashing waves appeared louder and louder as it got darker and darker. She bent her head on her knees and cried. No force to let them out of her tightened chest, no force to keep them up. She just cried.
It was completely dark now. Only the light of the nearby street was faintly reflecting on the border between the land and the waves.
She wished for a cup of steaming hot tea.
He threw a blanket on her shoulders, hugging her from behind helping to warm her up with the heat of his manly body. "I knew I could find you here" he whispered in her ear.
The crashing sound of the waves continued through the cold winter night.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
A little too womanly
The color NUDE
That's what I fancy in make up lately. Got myself a nude lipstick late last year. I was shopping for a few other ladies picking burgundy and pink and red for them. Until I spot this "perfectly nude" one. I always wanted to try nude on me. As I would never try lipstick in the drugstores and department stores I had to buy it. I brought it home and carefully opened the seal and then the cap. Looks good. I tried it on ... hmmm ... too pale? too different? too unlike my other make up colors? ... I thought I wont use it again; it was too colorless. It was too daring. You always want more color on your lips and it is totally out of ordinary to make your lips less colorful than they are!
Some how though as I tried it here and there again and mixed it with other make ups it appeared very harmonious with my complexion I thought. So I kept it and kept using it. I realized the other day that it's being consumed way faster than all other colors I had, even my orange one! I must say though I love the orange so much I don't want to run out of it. So I'm being frugal with its consumption.
Last week I bought a cinnamon nude nail polish. Ah love its color!
That's what I fancy in make up lately. Got myself a nude lipstick late last year. I was shopping for a few other ladies picking burgundy and pink and red for them. Until I spot this "perfectly nude" one. I always wanted to try nude on me. As I would never try lipstick in the drugstores and department stores I had to buy it. I brought it home and carefully opened the seal and then the cap. Looks good. I tried it on ... hmmm ... too pale? too different? too unlike my other make up colors? ... I thought I wont use it again; it was too colorless. It was too daring. You always want more color on your lips and it is totally out of ordinary to make your lips less colorful than they are!
Some how though as I tried it here and there again and mixed it with other make ups it appeared very harmonious with my complexion I thought. So I kept it and kept using it. I realized the other day that it's being consumed way faster than all other colors I had, even my orange one! I must say though I love the orange so much I don't want to run out of it. So I'm being frugal with its consumption.
Last week I bought a cinnamon nude nail polish. Ah love its color!
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About Me
- midnight/...
- An emigrant from an ancient civilization to North America, an engineer in marketing and management, a mom of working kind, who thinks when she talks, and who likes to write. I, L.B., own the copyright to the content.