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Traaaiiinnn…Uptraaaiiinn

I know  a lot has changed in my life since I stopped doodling in this blog, however, I am starting to share something from our new life again (at least, I will try!). I am saying “our”, because it is not just me anymore. It is me, my Georgian husband and our lovely son.

We moved to Edinburgh almost three weeks ago. There is a lot to share if I weren’t this much exhausted at the moment. But I wanted to start my blog with “traaaiiinn” and “uptraiiin”. “Train” you know, and “uptrain” is plane in our son’s vocabulary. Here in Edinburgh, life is one day going like a train and another day like an  “uptrain”.  It is constantly fast. We are hoping and trying to make it go to the right direction. I can’t say it now clearly, but I can say one thing clearly that we are enjoying very much seeing our son learn some new word and something new in this city.

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Who cares huh?!

It is one thing being hurt, and it is a whole different thing seeing your loved one having a similar wound. It hurts too, but in a different way. Mostly, because you don’t have much to offer to heal that pain. There is nothing left except for being strong and asking the same thing from your loved one. There are moments in life you feel the pain in your left side. Don’t show that pain to anyone, they say. Well, they are wrong.

There are times when you wanna freak out, and you do freak out, and you love freaking out, because apparently, freaking out at that very awkward moment seems the only insanely sane thing to do.

Who cares huh?!

Love is Love

Taxis here are not as cheap as they are in Ruse; so I have to take bus to work and back home in Baku. My bus rides open me a variety of opportunities to observe fellow citizens of mine. Well, what I mostly see in those bus rides is negative people who are ready to kill or knock out one another with one simple punch; I understand people being cranky after tiresome and long work day, but I can’t get why they are being so aggressive in the mornings. There are so many stories I have heard, and observations I have made during my bus rides; just another book idea for my future self.

I have always liked to ask ‘Why’ questions most. In my curious mind, and also during our discussions with friends, I end up with several explanations for inexplicable behaviors we see in the streets or buses. Yet, I still believe it is all due to lack of love. And it is any sort of love; love to oneself, to life, to people etc.

People don’t love, but they pretend to do so just to show off. People don’t live for themselves, but they live for others. They don’t go after their own happiness, but they try to imitate others’. People do or don’t do so many things for others. If you ask who those others are. Those others change from loved ones to neighbors and sometimes strangers. The latter case happens quite often, and for me, it is the worst one.

I had started to write this post long long ago. It goes back to when Isa Shahmarli, an activist fighting for LGBT rights in Azerbaijan, committed suicide leaving a note behind saying we, every one of us is guilty in his death. Well, I felt ashamed myself for being a cause in somebody’s life, and sorry for his young life, dreams, and the future that was ahead of him whatever color it was.

I will tell you about my classmate at school back in Ganja. All the time he used to tell everybody “What do you care? or Mind your own business”. I used to fight with him a lot for that, because for me it was so inappropriate back then. Now, I see, in this society, you will have to tell people hundred times to mind their own business and sometimes thousand times. If only everybody minded their own business….

Now, here, there are hundreds of campaigns pro or against, the Eurovision winner, Conchita. Let him or her, whoever that person chooses to be, be and rise. Let Conchita have a beard and hair. Let that person wear, dress or I don’t know do whatever they want. If you think it spoils your upbringing style, c’mon there are worse things being advertised in the music world. And you call them normal and others abnormal. I so strongly believe there is no such thing called normal or abnormal. It is all so relative. One thing accepted as normal here can be abnormal somewhere else. We all know that.

So I wish Isa didn’t commit suicide. Or Europe didn’t feel the need to rise Conchita like a phoenix and shove into people’s faces. I really don’t know where the world is going. I don’t think I need to know at this point, because I am busy with my own life. If everybody stops checking other’s business then nobody would take their own lives, or nobody would have to show their differences in a different way to the world.

The campaign called “Love is Love” brought hundred people from all over the world to say Love is Love. Truly, love is love. My love is this way and yours is that way. What is the problem here?! It is not that difficult to accept it, just mind your own business and move on with your life. Continue reading

Have you watched Fraiser?

Have you watched Frasier? There Roz leaves her ten-year job, following the emotional talk with her boss and friend Fraiser. Then she realizes it wasn’t a good idea at all. She asks Nile to help her to get back her job. He advises her jokingly to go back to the office as usual and start working. And she does.

And here I am! I missed writing. I missed dressing up my sensible and sensitive thoughts!

Sunset in my watch: Last post

Today I bought a watch-

it is what I want

it shows so many details of time-

the notion – once I used to think – doesn’t exist at all

Friday-

one of ordinary days- I think of you

yet one of those many

those that have kept a relevant place on my mind

24th…

what did it remind you of?

for me, 24th is a reminder of so many things, events and people..

9.18 p.m – shows my watch right now

what about there?

what is the time over there?

or you don’t need time at all

you must ignore time there

I miss you infinitely at unknown time, date and day

and

this time I mourn not for me who has to spend all her lifetime without you,

in need of you,

but for you who had lost all the time here

I don’t really know the reason of my doodling

maybe the whole idea was

to find a correlation

between your absence and my watch

the truth is –

my watch reminds me of your watch,

of all the affects of your absence,

of the time spent with and without you

P.S. The Sun is setting down here like my temporary happiness over the new watch…

24/May/2013

My sensitive and sensible self wanted to close up my blog with this doodling on this date. Two – year adventure is over;  a new one is on the way, I want to believe. Thanks to all of you who kept reading my scribbles.

The road not taken

 

Today I read, once more, this poem posted by a very good reader of my blog Steve Hollier (RIP)  in a comment section of the post –choosing one path means abandoning the other. While coming to the end of the path then I took and choosing a new one I thought it’d be worth to post it separately. Enjoy! And enjoy every path you take as I enjoy going through my less traveled paths.

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Stop soldier death


Last year, at one point I stopped reading Azerbaijani news. It was because almost every day there was news about soldier deaths and suicides coming from the army. When I read last, I remember clearly there were more than thirty soldiers died in the army. They all had the same reasons; for suicide- psychological problems, for death- misuse of guns.  In a book by O.Pamuk ‘Snow’’ Ka goes back to a small Turkish city where plenty of young school girls commit suicide. One of his intentions to report on the suicides of young religious girls forbidden to wear head-scarves. I think we needed somebody like him to go to the army and investigate the reason, the real reason behind the deaths and suicides. But there was not anybody and we all waited till the death of Jeyhun Gubatov, because this time they failed to say it was misuse of gun or suicide.  ( Although, in the paper sent to the mother from the officials it says the reason of his death was connected to the heart problem .)

He is one of those young kids coming from poor  and one-parent family, which is why he was sent to one of the rural regions in the army. (Like unwritten rules in my culture which is called ‘mentalitet’ there are unwritten rules in the army service too.)  In the third month of his service he was killed. Don’t you think by an Armenian in the front line. He was killed by other Azerbaijani soldiers with whom he was serving. Yes, 19-year-old Jeyhun, the only son of a mother who had to raise him all alone was beaten up  to death by his fellow soldiers in the army. That is what, finally, awaken us-Azerbaijanis.

Today, in Baku, there will be a protest, hopefully! I have never been any part of any protest. However, I want to join my fellow citizens who are protesting against soldier deaths in the army. This protest is not simply against the soldiers who killed Jeyhun or the government officials who let such kind of terrible things happen. I think we are protesting against us too. No matter how ugly it sounds, but it is true the doers of this terrible thing are Azerbaijani soldiers, so we are protesting against our friends, neighbors, brothers, partners, fellow citizens- male Azerbaijanis. We are telling them don’t beat each other! Don’t insult!! Don’t kill! You are in the army to protect one  another too not just your country.

We need to change things!

P.S. Before we all the Azerbaijanis have heard lots of stories from army: how stronger, richer, more educated, more experienced soldiers beat weaker ones. My friends know that I have a term for a group of boys in Azerbaijan, I call them ‘special guys’. They are the guys who chase girls in the streets, who say stupid words to them, thinking they are cool, in short, boys who think they are better than girls by just being a boy and have all kind of rights to insult girls they don’t  even know.  We can’t really find reasons to their ‘special’ behavior, but taking into consideration the army situation they must be those who have been beaten and insulted in the army, so that when they are back they do beat and insult their women to feed their ego, with an attempt to provide themselves with the self-confidence they never possessed. Quick note here, in Azerbaijan there are decent boys too that don’t deserve to be called ‘special guy’ at all.