Despite the number of entries (minimal at best), this felt like a very long year. I can barely remember two-thousand and seven and for what it’s worth — that’s probably for the best (hint: it wasn’t a good year). I averaged less than a single entry per month so I will fill in some of the details that weren’t captured in rounding out the year. Two-thousand and eight started off with me switching roles at work. The sort of strategic career move that I hope to look back on fondly and without regrets. I never discussed the transition publically. I assume this is because I never wanted anyone to know there was a transition. It’s funny how a single letter can change your attitude about your work.

In February, we gathered in Toronto for my cousin’s one-year memorial. I wrote and presented a speech on the topic. It’s both one of my favorite and most despised entries to date. The sort of duality that only comes from a hallowing experience or an emotional tragedy. March entailed a new relationship that brought much needed stability and sanity into my life. The type of relationship that, quite literally, makes you a better person. I am thankful for that every day.

Fall came along and nearly destroyed my self-confidence in the form of an annual review. Maybe it was a much needed reality check. Maybe it was just the type of challenge I needed. It was difficult to accept but ultimately has changed my outlook on the measure of success and personal satisfaction. Let me make sure that point got across: it was very difficult to accept. I spent the better half of three years engrossed in my career. I felt obliterated and cheated. But good things come to those who wait; and work hard. Some lessons are best learned quietly in your room… punching a pillow.

I spent a lot of time this year also working on school. I’m starting to get into the thick of the Masters program and it shows. I have always known it was going to be challenging juggling my career aspirations with my academic goals but it is something that I am passionate about pursuing for my own personal enrichment. I’m not always sure how I manage but this year hallmarked the successful completion of my fourth course in the program. That means I’m almost half-way done. It’s certainly not a quick pace but progress is progress and I hope to continue pushing forward in the coming year.

It was a good year for extracurricular activities too. I joined a bowling league and have high hopes for my amateur career (besting my personal best with a game high of 224!). And not to be outdone with billiards, I won a local 8-ball qualifier and even moved up a skill level (still abysmally low but progress is progress). I think watching those Dr. Cue YouTube videos really did help. I play in a regional qualifier in March — how well or poorly I did will probably be discussed in next year’s synopsis. This was also a year of concerts including but not limited to Death Cab, Brett Dennen, Killers, Oasis, Augustana, Maroon 5, Radiohead (2x), Counting Crows, Kiosk, and many more.

A month before the election, I wrote about the State of Democracy and why I am generally against it. And at 8pm on November 4th, I instantly went from left-wing liberal to patriot. Obama’s victory helped me reclaim much of the faith I had lost in humanity in the eight years prior. But I hope the next four years will prove to be worthwhile. I prayed far too much to a non-existent God for it all to end up a sham. Seriously.

And the eve of winter turned me twenty-five for the first and last time. As always, I wish you all the best in 2009. May you all have health, happiness and love.

Adieu. Navid.

I turned 25 this year. The automorphic age. It was actually last week. I’m late with this entry but I don’t blame myself entirely. I just didn’t have the will to write it. There is so little to say. Or maybe there’s too much to say and I just don’t know where to begin.

I was dreading this birthday. Not because I am afraid of getting older but because they say that anyone that ever achieved anything in their life: achieved it before they were twenty-five. I just wasn’t ready to accept that I had conceited to a life of mediocrity. I really thought I could have done better. Maybe I still have a chance. After all, if 40 is the new 20, then I have another twenty to go. Right? Is that how it works? I’m not sure. I am not really sure of anything anymore. But I am happy. And that’s what getting older is all about.

Adieu. Navid.

The entire experience – the diagnosis, the hospital, the funeral, and everything in between – left me hollow and deeply conflicted on the subject of nature, justice and mortality. They say that everything happens for a reason but that’s no reason not to ask myself why. I’ve thought about this for quite sometime – why do bad things happen to good people – and I, unfortunately, am no closer to a satisfactory answer than before I began my search. I truly wish I did have a good answer. I wish I could present all of you my findings and assure you that not Nima – and not anyone else for that matter – has passed away in vain. I regretfully cannot bring you that kind of closure. I can, however, share some personal anecdotes and thoughts about this passing year. I can share how Nima’s life, and death, has helped shape my own.

It’s been a year, they tell me. Exactly one year. It doesn’t feel like a year. It feels like mere moments. Yet it feels like centuries. I am not sure how long it takes to make everything “feel alright” but I can officially report, “a year is not enough.” How long does it take? Two? Five? Maybe ten years? Maybe it will never “feel alright.” But that doesn’t mean people cannot, should not and will not move on. Each and every single one of us has to move on. But what exactly does moving on entail?

I distinctly recall the first time I laughed – and I mean really laughed – after Nima’s passing. It caught me by surprise. It caught me by surprise partly because I hadn’t laughed out loud in quite some time. But it also caught me by surprise because I felt that the memories of the funeral were still too fresh in my mind. I felt guilty. I felt ashamed. I felt, and strongly believed, that my great sorrow could never again be overshadowed through the dullness created by the routine of my daily life. After all, who was I to be laughing?

But the truth is: we’ve all laughed, we’ve all cried, we’ve all loved and we’ve all lived. And we will continue to laugh, cry, love and live. If the untimely, the unjust and the incomprehensible tragedies could not be overcome by mankind – then laughing would have disappeared, gone by the wayside, and been extinct millions and millions of years ago. But it hasn’t.

You see, I was wrong. To laugh, to celebrate, and to simply live even after the losing of loved ones is not shameful. It is necessary. By continuing to live we are not diluting, nor devaluing, nor forgetting our departed loved ones. It is, in fact, quite the contrary. It is imperative, at least for our own sake and sanity, to show the world that we can endure and we can continue; even in the face, of what we may believe to be, our strongest hardships, saddest moments and most difficult of times. It is life’s great sorrows, untimely tragedies and series of unfortunate events which help forge everlasting moments and our most cherished of memories. For that, I am eternally grateful to Nima.

I realize, having said and thought about all this now, it doesn’t make the pain any easier to swallow or accept. It doesn’t mean I miss Nima any less. But it’s all about perspective in the end. And Nima has helped put a lot of things into perspective for me – both directly (be it through his attitude and personal philosophy) and indirectly (through his untimely passing). The most insurmountable problems seem like no problem at all. The most arduous tasks seem effortless. For that, I am eternally grateful to Nima. But most importantly, I’ve learned that life’s always too short.

I strongly urge everyone who has yet to join the bone marrow registry to sign up and encourage your friends and family to do the same. There are hundred, if not thousands, of other people that could be saved. It’s simple to get tested, and if you’re someone’s match – you could potentially not only save their life but their family’s too. Please, I can’t stress this enough: don’t make my mistake, don’t wait until your own personal tragedy to help.

Navid

Each and every year for the past couple of years, I’ve done a little year in review. I generally use prior entries to hallmark each and every milestone. It’s a great way for me to go back, re-read some of my older entries and see how far I’ve come along and how terrible my writing has become. I can say with great confidence that the culmination of this entire year can be summarized into a single learning:

The problem will be solved when I accept that happiness is a present attitude, not a future condition.

This is much, much harder than it sounds especially when things don’t go as smoothly as you’d hoped or expected. In January, I started graduate school at Columbia University en route to a hopeful Masters degree by 2010. Taking only one class per semester while working full-time is a lot more work than I originally anticipated. However, it’s something that I am determined and committed to following through.

February started off with the untimely passing of my nineteen year old cousin; despite our best efforts to save him. The event left me hollow and deeply conflicted on the subject of nature, justice and mortality. I shut the world out until I eventually started writing again a few months later; primarily about relationships, Facebook and Facebook relationships. The dark dictation and solemn outlook were only fed further as my last remaining grandmother passed away before the blasted year dwindled away. I turned 24 with a sense of tiresome optimism that I am hoping to carry right on through the new year.

I wish you all the best in 2008. May you all have health, happiness and love.

Adieu. Navid.

I turned 24 today. As a kid, that was the oldest I could ever imagine myself. 24. It’s not even prime. It’s a semi-perfect number. It’s the lowest number that has exactly eight divisors. It’s a highly totient number and also represents the number of hours in a single day. But to me, 24 represents the end of a personal timeline. I fondly reminisce about the days where I would sit and just daydream about how my life would be more than a decade later (what seemed to me, at the time, eternity). I had it all, more or less, quite figured out: I knew what I wanted to study (Computer Science). I knew where I wanted to work (Microsoft). I just knew the man guy I wanted to be. But I never really thought much about life after 24.

And yet here I am. Just like that — entering an uncharted and unplanned time of my life.

I’m jazzed about the future. But I’m happy with where I am. And I’m thankful for everything I have.

Adieu. Navid.

Adieu. Navid.

The past year brought some happiness and much sadness. I survived quite a few bad storms, met some great friends, attended my cousin’s lovely wedding and even switched teams at work. However, it was rather uneventful compared to last year… but they do say that no news is good news. As far as this blog was concerned, it also helped me realize the power of living such a public life. It was sometime earlier this year when I became the number one Navid according to Google… and that helped bring many more voyeurs to read over my carefully crafted words. As a result, it has made me think twice about what words I chose because you never know who could be reading. It has also inspired me to be a much stronger advocate for things which have become increasingly important to me — most notably global health and education.

However, New Years is just as much about tomorrow as it is a personal reflection of yesterday. This is why people make resolutions to begin with. They evaluate (or rather, should evaluate) their last year and vow (promise is too strong of a word here) to do better next year.

Resolutions are less signficant for me than it is for others probably because I already have a life list. Regardless, I wouldn’t want to be left out of this hopeless tradition… so without further adieu I present you my goals for two-thousand and seven:

1. Knock at least two items off my 50 Things To Accomplish Before I Die list. 
2. Pay-off all those parking tickets I have accumulated outside of Farid’s apartment. Damn you, City of Bellevue.
3. Read at least one novel a month.
4. Conquer Whistler with my snowboard.
5. Become actively involved with volunteering opportunities in my community.
6. Obligatory “go to the gym” at least four days a week.
7. Attend a Seahawks and Supersonics game.

I wish you all the best in 2007… may you and everyone you love be happy, healthy and hopeful. 

Adieu. Navid.

I kicked off the New Year with a soft bang. I am now finally running on Windows Vista (Beta 2, Build 5270). It was quite the battle and I am still ironing out the kinks but expect a more thorough report in time. I also installed Office 12 and upgraded to WordPress 2.0. It seems that the new year has brought a world of new software for me to play with. But really, only 3% of my six readers give a damn about technology and software. In fact, in a recent study, most of my readers reported that they read my site because (a) I am deathly good looking, (b) I am engorgingly smart and brilliant with my words, or (c) I pay them by the comment.

Anyway, I digress, back to my stupid resolutions for 2006:

• Read 40 Books by the end of the year.
• Release v2.0 of my much anticipated WP List Manager plugin.
• Get to work consistantly before 10-11am.
• Expand my vocabulary by at least 24 good words.
• Learn to manage my time better.
• Take at least one real vacation.

Those are mine so far. I’ll add more if I come across anything else that is worthwhile or mildly witty. So, what are your resolutions? (Edit: These are unpaid comments.)

Adieu. Navid.