گلهاى سرخ ما

بهار ها حياط خونه ما ميشد بهشت، ارديبهشت خود بهشت بود. چند تا بوته گل سرخ در باغچمون داشتيم. بوته كه چه عرض كنم، درخت هاى بزرگى شده بودند. بابا مرتب روى همه ميز ها، توى همه اتاق ها گلهاى خوش بو رو ميذاشت. هر چى به در و همسايه و فاميل ميداديم هم اين گل ها تموم نميشد. يادمه روز معلم هم كه 12 ارديبهشت بود براى معلم ها دسته هاى پر گل رز قرمز ميبردم. گلهاى سرخ ما معروف بودند، پر رنگ، خوشبو، با حال و زنده. انقدر خوشگل بودند كه يه بار وقتى يكيشون رو چيده بودم، ميخواستم همش باهام باشه. اون موقع ها كه بچه بودم بعداز ظهرها بعد ناهار ميخوابيدم. دلم نيومد گل رو بذارم كنار. روى بالش كنار خودم گذاشته بودم، خوابيده بودم. مامانم اومده بود چكم كنه وقتى خواب بودم، انقدر تحت تاثير قرار گرفته بود، كه با يك ماچ و صداى "قربون اين روح لطيفت برم كه با گل روى بالشت خوابيدى" بيدار شدم.

امروز دلم براى گلهاى سرخ خونمون، براى بهار خونمون تنگ شد. رفتم براى خودم گل خريدم. نه بو دارند، نه رنگ درست حسابى، نه اون خارهاى تيز. به عبارتى بى حال و بى بخارند. يه چايى مشتى هم ريختم با شكلات صفا ميكنم، بلكه دل خودم و خوش كنم.

تقصير تو نيست

تقصير تو نيست، تقصير روياهاى من است.
كه زيباترين ها را خيال ميكند،
در ذهنش به تصوير ميكشد،
و انقدر ميكشد و ميكشد،
كه باورش ميشود واقعيت است.

تقصير تو نيست، تقصير باورهاى من است،
كه به خوبى هاى تو اطمينان دارد،
و به قابليت هايت،
و باورنميكند هر كه اين ادعا را نقض كند،
حتى خودت.

People Who Keep Me Going 1: Dear Barb

Barb is a colleague of mine, rather a friend of mine I should say. I did not used to think of her as a close friend, or even one who paid attention to me, what I do, and how I am doing it. I first met her when I was having my on-site job interview over 9 years ago. She was one of the branch heads in the division at the time. I did not end up being hired into her branch. My rocket scientist supervisor announced in front of Barb and others: "I won you". I felt like a foster child being picked by her new mom. That is how strange they were all to me.

So, I started my first assignment as part of my official professional training. After six months I had to deliver my first project, present it in front of managers, demonstrate it, document it, and defend it like a thesis. Barb showed up at my presentation. I did not think much of her presence. I did not know any better.

During the same time I was admitted to a PhD program. I was sure of one thing: I wanted to go back to school. I was not sure how I was supposed to keep my job, do my course work and PhD research, and manage my finances. Go to school full time, work part time, or go to school part time and work full time. Should I quite my job? No ... no...no. Should I forget about PhD? No...no...no.

All of a sudden, I received an email from Barb. One I would have never dreamed of receiving. First, she congratulated me for passing the exam, my first professional training milestone and presentation. She had written "You know what was my favorite part of your presentation? When Mr. x asked something to the effect of is your software operational and you said Yes with such confidence! I am not sure if you have the same confidence in yourself as you do in your work but you should ..." The carefully written email, so thoughtful, and so personal. How had she figured me out so well? I did not even think she noticed me all this time. Then, after 2-3 paragraphs, the compelling reason for her writing to me showed up: "So, what is it now I hear about you going to graduate school and leaving us? ....your code can take us to Mars....", I could not believe my eyes. I was speechless. What had I done that she believed so much in me? I reassured her in my response that I was not leaving my chosen home, that I may just have to take some leave of absence when doing my course work.

That passed and our paths separated. I never really worked with or for her. She moved from our division to another to manage a satellite and I did not see much of her. Till she surprised me again when I emailed some friends and colleagues telling them I will be walking one and a half marathon to raise awareness for the fight against breast cancer and I needed their support with fund raising. She was among the first to donate, and later when I shared the link on my facebook page, I see her supporting me by sharing it with her friends with this message: "Friends, if Dr. Nargess says she's going to walk 36 miles (or whatever it is exactly) i KNOW that's exactly what she's going to do! Please help me get her to the starting line." Once again she did it! Appearing out of the blue just to support me; encourage me; believe in me beyond belief; give me confidence; and make me push the boundaries of my capabilities!

Barb is still a mystery to me. I do not recall even having a long conversation with her. I have very few memories of meeting with her, three of which are marked by memories of how she surprised me by her kind thoughtful remarks. Yet, she puts so much trust in me and gives so much positive energy, without me having given her much of my time or energy; well, nothing really compared to the time and energy I spend with many friends and family members. Her passion, belief, and energy makes everything look possible because you never ever want to disappoint her, to shatter her beautiful image of you in her mind.

Thank you Barb! Your thoughtful words time and again, exactly when I needed to hear them, have kept me going and going and going ...

A. W. Williams

It is a four level u-shape building. Computer engineering, electrical engineering, and computer science graduate students, faculty, staff, and post-docs live there. If you ask the PhD students, they will say it is dark, depressing, dirty, and smelly, not to mention the air is stuffed and does not flow well. If you ask the faculty it has spacious offices, with good view, specially the corner offices. I think they all agree it is colorless and dull. I think gray is the word. Yes, it is gray. I always associated A. V. Williams with gray. Its view even though the bricks try to distract you from the gray sides, its dirty carpets inside, the depression and pressures floating around, it is gray all over.

There has been many efforts to change this grayness throughout the years. Fancy coffee lounges were opened on first and forth floor. A place for students and faculty to escape their cubicles, chat over a cup of tea or coffee, and maybe play some Foosball to release some stress. Some more improvements occurred after my time there. They painted the walls of the first floor red and yellow, for the school colors. They have put fancy monitors showing the directory of the building. They have tried so hard to add color and excitement to this gray building. Somehow, I think it still lacks life, it misses natural light, natural air, and natural happiness despite all their efforts.

You see, every inch of this building is holding so many memories and sacrifices of so many people over the years that no amount of paint can cover. Many came through the doors of this building for the first time after a very long journey, from far places like China, India, Iran, Germany, Turkey, Korea, Greece, Albania, Bulgaria, ... . In fact I knew someone who flew for the first time in his life, crossing the oceans just to get there. They came with such high hopes, leaving behind their loved ones, everything they knew, risking it all for a better life, education, and knowledge.

It was not long before this building betrayed them. It became a prison separating them from the life that was continuing happily behind its walls. It separated them from their loved ones. It deprived them of everything as vital and necessary as light and air. Then, little by little they started adapting, defining, and forming their own lives there. They fell in love there. God knows how many girls appeared behind an office door just to exchange greetings with that guy as he was done with his office hours or coming out of a lecture. How many guys went in and out of the lounge in a short period of time over and over, every time with a different excuse, just to grab a chance to talk to that girl who was taking a break over a cup of tea with her friends or was trying hard to work on a homework problem with her classmates, only if he could let her to. How many times he checked her through the half-closed door of her office to see if she is still there or not, who she is talking to, when will she leave so that he accidentally bumps into her. How many times he audited a class just so that he could borrow her notes, discuss homework and projects with her. How many notes, little chocolates, and candies were left on the keyboards to pleasantly surprise that cute girl or guy. You see, everyone was going crazy in that building. Such a small area, so much young, fresh, intelligent passionate energy. In fact, one student almost had a heart attack when unlocking her office door only to find her lab mate making out.

The hopeless romantics that they were, they were soon heartbroken in the same building. It would not take long for him to see her going home with another and ignoring him. In fact, he could see flowers she received on Valentine's Day strategically placed on a table in front of the door. Oh, and how many shed tears in the bathrooms, behind the monitors in their very own cubicles, their precious territory as little as it was, when they sensed the look they were looking forward to had died; or when a mother had sent her baby away with the grandparents for a few months back home just so that she could finish that dissertation. She could not stop crying in the office; cursing and blaming herself for what she did. Or when he heard his father was in bad condition and he better get home soon if he wanted to see him one last time. People's hearts were constantly broken, and those walls, those dirty couches, those nasty carpets witnessed everything.

Love, hate, jealousy, sadness were not the only emotions that people felt and lived through there. One of the big ones was Fear. Hundreds have been questioned and answered behind closed doors of each of the meeting and conference rooms there. They were not defending just a thesis there. They were defending and claiming years of their lives, the sacrifices they made, losses they had endured, justifying the pain they went through. What if it all was not worth it? What if they do not find it worthy? Fear of rejection, from love, from all those things you gave up to be accepted at this last critical point, from passing through this final destination.

There was another worldly type of fear too. When you are coding away and working hard and you receive an email saying there is a gunman in the building, asking you to close the office doors and not get out until the next email. A gunman who could not tolerate all the grayness anymore; who blamed the professors and was angry at every authority in that building. When a sniper is loose in the area and you are afraid to move to/from that nasty building. The fear of thieves stealing a laptop that cost God knows how many weeks of your salary. Fear of not being able to afford the school, to graduate, fear of being trapped in that gray building forever.

A. V. Williams; you can check in, but you can never check out. Many ghosts, fairy tales, horror and success stories float there.

My Life as a Female Engineer 1

It is often not what someone says or does, rather a look you receive, a feeling in the span of a few seconds, that will be not respectful. When the young hopeful and arrogant undergraduate summer intern, originally from a country where majority of women are still submissive and second class citizens, from a prestigious school arrives and is introduced to you, a young petite female with a weird name, as his mentor and supervisor, and you see a disappointing look; one that does not trust your knowledge, capabilities, or that you could teach him anything. When day after day, you give him guidance on his assignment, check on him if he has any questions, and you get a simple nod that everything is ok, with a face that says "how could you help anyways". You give him some time to adjust and explore the problem. You are aware that he is not making any progress, and you know he has too much pride to come to you. Yet, you give him the chance by showing up at his desk every few days, to give him the opportunity, "Do you have any questions?", "How did you handle such and such part?", "Here are some good references by the way on this problem". Nods, oks, do not bother me and take my time looks are all you receive.

Till one fine day, he comes to you with a desperate look "there is a bug I have not been able to fix", and you know he has been struggling with it for a long time and has not been able to make any progress, and he had no other choice but to let you know. You go, take a look at his code, locate the lines the compiler is complaing about, and in a minute you see the problem. "You see this line where you declared ... how do you think the compiler interprets this?",..., pause, thinking, responses from him, " and you see how you are using it later here?", a light bulb turns on in his brain and you see his whole face shining. "Did you mean that?", I ask him. No, we both know. He fixes that line, compiles, runs, get the desired outcome, and for the first time you hear him say "Thank you", a heart felt one too, and the look on his face when looking at you is never like before anymore.

You keep going, one day at a time, one brain at a time. So many things have to be earned.