First of all, I know what you’re thinking: why doesn’t Navid have a bookmark or favorites link to his own website if he frequents it so much? Or, why isn’t his blog his browser’s home page if that’s important to him? The truth is I really enjoy typing my name and having a shortcut to my website would truly defeat the purpose. In any regard, baffled with this mystical error, I logged into host’s control panel to see whether there was an outage reported. Nothing. The status reported that all sites were operational. I figured then, if those reports are to be trusted, the problem lay within my own site. I decided to open a ticket with the support personnel.

Now I think we’ve all heard and even have our own share of horrible customer support stories: rude operators, technicians without a clue, support engineers that just read troubleshooting manuals verbatim, and what not. To be fair though, there have been some stories about customer service going shockingly right but those few and far between. In fact, it’s so rare — that the linked article went to number one on both Digg and Reddit!

I submitted my trouble ticket and within 15 minutes, I got a reply. Not just an automated reply that my ticket was important and being worked on… but rather by a real life person. To truly understand the awesomeness of what occurred, I’ll include their reply:

The errors in your website were being caused because someone maliciously editing and appended to the .htaccess file in your account. This was possible because this file, along with many of the other files in your account, was world-writable. I have adjusted the permissions of all of the files in your account to remove this world-writable setting to ensure the security of your files. I have also removed the offending line from your .htaccess file which has rectified the errors you were experiencing with your web page. If you have any other questions please let us know.

Thank you.

David Runion
HostRocket Support

Let’s reiterate what just happened. They located the problem. They fixed the problem. They located the root cause. They fixed the root cause. All in 15 minutes! Now I don’t have to explain why I’ve been with HostRocket for more than six years. In fact, I’ve always been impressed with their customer support. But this, to me, was well beyond what I could and would have ever expected from a web hosting company. Things did go wrong (as they often do) — and here it was even my fault — but they addressed and resolved the issue apologetically. They were courteous, informative and prompt. There is nothing more I could have asked to make this situation any more pleasant. It goes without mention that I strongly recommend HostRocket for their support personnel alone. There are a hundreds of other hosts that beat HostRocket on prices and maybe even features. But this type of service commands the utmost customer loyalty. As long as I have a personal blog, I’ll be with HostRocket: thank you!

Adieu. Navid.

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.

But I’m skeptical. Who exactly are these people — who need to be encouraged by MTV and YouTube — voting for? On what basis are they actually making their decisions? Does it even matter? I suppose some could argue that it’s your right, and that’s all there is to it. But I am afraid that an uninformed vote is more dangerous than no vote at all. I remember back when I was taking US History in high school; one of the big controversies at the time was the discussion around providing the option to vote for “None of the above” on the election ballot. I always thought and still believe it would be a GREAT idea. This would at least allow people who have no idea who to vote for, and have no real business in helping shape our future, go out and make their contribution to society without dangerously impairing it.

I am being dead serious. This is akin to having a leak in your house and instead of asking a series of experts; collectively prodding your neighbors to suggest what to do. Sure this may not be an entirely bad idea. Your neighbor might be a plumber or Bob Vila. Or maybe they had the same problem not too long ago and could share their experiences. But what if your questions are much more important? Say you’re remodeling and you need to know whether the structural beam in your living room could support that new game room you’ve always dreamed of upstairs? What if you get sick? Do you want expert medical advice? Or do you just want to Twitter about it and see what the masses say?

This is why the political landscape of the United States is a glorified marketing campaign. Nobody really cares about issues or ideologies. It’s just a popularity contest at this point. People who are still swayed between Obama/Biden vs. McCain/Palin probably shouldn’t even be voting. These are radically different platforms with radically different agendas. You can’t just watch some debates and decide who you are going to vote for. That’s nonsensical. In fact, these people aren’t even watching the debates. They’re reading US Weekly and listening to Fox News to tell them how to think. It’s a sad state of affairs.

If you’ve read this far then maybe there’s hope after all. I’ll leave some parting remarks. In essence, Obama is probably one of the best Presidential candidates that the United States has seen since JFK. We are in an era where we need Obama. As much as I would have loved to see a woman in the oval office (it’s about damn time, no?); the past eight years have brought more shame, embarrassment and general malaise to the United States of America than anyone could have imagined back in 2000. Electing Obama would be the most redeeming action that we could portray to the rest of the world. It would be one big, subtle yet effective apology. In fact, simply electing Obama will do more good for the United States than any policy McCain and his imbecile hand puppet could ever come up with in the next four years.

So go out there and vote. I predict a turn out of about 57%. Everyone will be so proud of the improvement. We’ll give each other a big pat on the back and smile because we’ll just know it was our social network marketing that helped make it all a reality. And those celebrations will hopefully numb us just enough to forget about the 100,000 Iraqi civilians whom have been killed since 2003 or the thousands more in Afghanistan, Pakistan, Israel or Kenya. But who cares. Those places aren’t here, right? And who cares about welfare? I make good money. National healthcare? Fuck it, I’m young. I just don’t want to pay more taxes. Potential medical breakthroughs? Not if it’s killing an embryo! Or against my faith. Forget the fact that I happen to sin, steal and squander in every other facet of my life. But if it’s other people’s lives? Nope, they can’t get married. It hurts my belief system. Some people have got it all figured out, I guess.

I guess what I am trying to say is that if you are going to vote for Obama: thank you. If not, I’d love to know why. Not that I could, want or even care to persuade you otherwise but, you know, for shits and giggles.

Adieu. Navid.

To date, my only major gripe with the iPhone was its uncanny ability to drop calls consistently. I was tolerating the issue though since I knew that an update was imminent. So you can imagine my excitement when Ars Technica reported a positive experience after upgrading their iPhone to v2.1. The glowing review gave me the confidence to go through with the update. It was around 11pm and I figured I didn’t need my mobile for the time being.

I fired up my Vista desktop and plugged in my iPhone. I clicked the button to upgrade but was presented by a dialog informing me that I must first upgrade to iTunes 8.0 before I can upgrade my iPhone. I need to upgrade to upgrade? Reads like an old Microsoft joke. In any regard, I moved forward and after waiting more than an hour for it to complete — I was on my way to upgrading the iPhone.

Eventually the upgrade and verification steps were completed and my iPhone was back in my arms. I unhinged the USB cable and decided to take my new shiny firmware upgrade for a spin. The first thing I did was try to go to Settings > General > About to ensure that my firmware was indeed upgraded. I could not imagine it doing anything else for the past hour or so, but wanted to see the clean and crisp “v2.1″ for myself.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t even open the Settings application. I would push the icon. And nothing would happen. Never having this problem in the past, I decided to try other applications: Facebook, Yelp or even Shazam. Nope. They all refused to open. Except these third-party applications would launch — then a black screen would appear then the desktop would represent itself again. Totally unashamed. I tried to restart my iPhone a couple of times but alas to no avail. At least rebooting your Windows Mobile phone always fixed the problem. Then it dawned on me: I just upgraded to the latest and greatest — and it was a major step back. I longed for the days of iPhone v2.0.2 where my applications would launch and my phone was, you know, generally operable.

I decided it was a lost cause and would tackle the problem again in the morning. And here I am: sitting, waiting, wishing. I’m in the process of restoring my iPhone since the firmware obviously broke something. I just hope the backup and restore processes are in fine shape since I really do not want to go through and configure everything again. I still lost about 7gb of music that I need to transfer over again. On the bright side, it did give me the time to compose this post, read the news, take a shower and respond to some e-mails. Now I just have to figure out which novel to finish while waiting for the music to sync.

Adieu. Navid.

The Internet however has managed to become the Great Equalizer™. In many ways, it is, at least pragmatically speaking, exactly what Lenin and Marx had envisioned. In the era of the Information Age, power is increasingly a function of information — not physical strength. To fortify this argument, peruse even the most mildly active forums to see that the most vocal, most respected and often times most domineering figures are nothing more than pipsqueaks with idle keyboards. This is a great thing. The balance of power has shifted from the pugnacious to the articulate. I can get behind that.

The unimaginable phenomena however is that the same paradigm shift is occurring off the Internet. People are reading, learning and educating themselves through a myriad of articles written by mere commoners. I call these people Wikipedia Scholars™. They can be spotted at any social function drinking a dirty martini (shaken, not stirred). They wear earth tones. They probably own an iPhone. They are obsessed with truth, politics and the Brady Bunch. They have a natural affinity for playing the devil’s advocate and a seemingly unrelenting supply of bad puns.

This appearance of intellectual superiority is not only clever but seemingly necessary in today’s socially connected world. These enterprising individuals have fully embraced social networking. They are on Facebook. They update their status. They even write clever photo captions. These people are you and I. You better not fall behind. Why not read something new and tell me what you learned?

Adieu. Navid.

For example, I recently stopped going to the salon to get my haircut for two reasons: (a) paying $90+ every four weeks was driving me to financial peril and (b) I wanted to get it cut finger-length short — and there’s no need for a full-fledged salon visit if I am not trying to upkeep my curl and shine. Therefore, I ventured to the local barbershop which will remain nameless.

I was told that this particular establishment procures a lot of attractive employees. And after my first visit, I can confirm this to be true. Now you might think that getting your haircut by attractive people is a great thing but let me tell you: it is not. Why? Because now I have to get ready before I go get a haircut. My routine consists of showering, getting dressed, driving to the barbershop, getting my haircut, coming back home, and then showering yet again. It’s ridiculous. The vicious cycle cannot be broken. I either have to find another barbershop where sub-optimal looks are standard, continue the tedious upkeep or simply grow out my hair. What a tough life. Now you tell me about other circumstances in your life where interacting with attractive people is more stressful than it really ought to be.

Adieu. Navid.

Now, this may be of no significance to you. But remember I randomly ran into this little gem while perusing the Interweb for something completely unrelated.

The reason this is important is because, in 1988, I made an acoustic cover of this song. I’m not even joking. It’s in Italian and you can listen to my version in all its glory here (DRM-free)!

Adieu. Navid.

I want an Ivy League educated accountant that I can call at three in the morning from a Vegas casino and slur a plea for him to transfer some funds over to an undisclosed checking account. I want him to be well fed and wear glasses. He needs to drink scotch in the afternoons and play golf on the weekends. While he’s thinking deeply, I want him to take off his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose. He must have brilliant epiphanies and political connections.

I want him to grow frustrated at the lack of my apparent effort to keep my nose clean and out of trouble; always reminding me that I can do better. I want him to have a beautiful wife. He must drive a German car that’s perpetually in the shop. I want him to be a good family friend that knows all my dirty laundry. I want him to always know a guy that knows a guy. Experience dealing with international extortion laws is also a big plus.

Besides that, though, I have no other requirements.

Adieu. Navid.

I’ve been hacked! I am not sure what the world has come to but, as most of my faithful readers should have noticed almost instantly, my notoriously witty and self-deprecating blog has been down for the past couple of days. The cause, my friends, was a hacker whom shall go unnamed because I fear the reprimand of a cyber retaliation by highly-skilled computer hackers on the interweb. Even if the hacker is only a fourteen year old Russian Serbian idiot savant from Kosovo. The world is changing. These intangible tubes that carry oogles and googles of electrons are giving way to a new generation of criminals that prey on innocent and charming bloggers like myself.

I knew I should have gone with a Windows host. Linux is like totally unsafe. I spent a couple of hours just cleaning up the thousands of junk phishing files which were uploaded to my web server and then changed my root password. I’m safe as a button again. Or so I think. dum dum dum.

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.

It’s one of the most versatile hobbies. I can watch people anywhere; be it strolling down a bustling street, at a busy mall or simply waiting for a flight at the airport. I see couples: some in love, others not so much. I see the homeless: their weathered faces, their dirty hands. I see mothers, children: her strength, their resilience. I see corporate tycoons: on the phone, in a rush. I see rebellious teenagers: conforming. I see the elderly: their hands, their history. I see tourists: their optimism, their confusion. I see the happy. I see the sad. I see the leisurely. I see the weary. I see the lonely. I see. I see.

But most of all, I see a little bit of me in everyone I see.

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.

No one is wrong. At most someone is uninformed. If I think an individual is wrong, either I am unaware of something, or the other person is.

How then do I go about figuring out who is more uninformed? I generally tend to take away from the conversation the parts I don’t yet understand. I then internalize, compartmentalize and ultimately organize my thoughts into neat, processed and packaged ideas. I do this when I am alone.

I need solitude like I need food and rest, and like eating and resting, solitude is most satisfying when it fits the rhythm of my needs. A rigidly scheduled aloneness does not nourish me.

Solitude is nearly a misnomer. To me, being alone means togetherness - the re-coming together of me and nature, of me and being; the reuniting of me with all. For me, solitude especially means putting the parts of me back together - the unifying of myself whereby I see once again that the little things are little and the big things are big.

This process of breaking things down and putting them back together is as much a part of healing as it is growing.

Adieu. Navid.

I didn’t recognize the number — except for the fact that it was prime — but I answered it almost immediately anyway. There was a silence. I said, “Hello?” with the type of sheer confidence you gain only after treading water in the Nile for three days in a row. After a momentary pause, I heard a young girl — of about 25 with the most exotic and gorgeous eyes I could ever imagine, long beautiful silky black hair, and a white cardigan top — say “Hi.. is Mandy there?” The voice was sweet, honest and apologetic. I thought for a moment on how to reply. I was in love with this girl. I wanted to tell her but there was no chance of that without sounding over-bearing and slightly creepy. Instead, I opted for this classic line: “Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong number.” She was confused. It was absolutely adorable. She bit her lip and inquisitively asked, “Wait, is this 949-xxx-xxxx?” I told her it was and has been for many years. In fact, I was surprised she hadn’t called sooner. She nodded and accepted her folly.

Her face was flushed with a rosey red glow. The shade and hue of red you get only after you’ve mistakenly called a handsome boy on a Sunday afternoon looking for a make-believe Mandy. She apologized again and I wished her good luck in her search. She let out an giggle of Angelic proportions. And just as quickly as it all began, it ended. It was me and the dial tone once more alone.

Adieu. Navid.

I’m Persian. My wardrobe predominately consists of black. I have eleven seemingly identical black t-shirts. However, I have a favorite and, yes I can tell them all apart. I have more than ten brands of cologne. My scent precedes me into any room. I only drink Vodka at the bar but I’d really just prefer some hot tea. I’m also quick to point out anyone who is even remotely Persian — be it famous or otherwise (like Andre Agassi, or say, Freddie Mercury).

There are, of course, cultural gluttons that I consciously attempt not to partake in. For example, driving a black BMW or Mercedes, spiking my hair, oversized Omega or TAG watches, owning three pairs of designer sunglasses, wearing anything gold, and last but certainly least, abrasively loud techno music. Nevertheless, I’ve come to love and accept who I am… so much so in fact, I believe I’ve been able to categorize all the Persian people I know into four distinct but equally fantastical categories:

Category Zero (or more affectionately known as FOBs): These are the Persians who have virtually zero non-Persian friends, who might speak unbelievably broken English and are so immersed in Persian culture they don’t even know the difference between irony and Irooni. Their favorite artists may include Shahram Shabpareh, Vigen and Reza Sadeghi. You can generally spot these Persians by their attempts to haggle prices at the local Safeway or Macy’s. In many ways, category zero Persians’ have never attempted to assimilate into Western culture… even after living in North America for 15+ years. They are always a great source of information about Iranian football, community gossip and upcoming local Persian concerts. They almost exclusively shop at Nordstrom and Express.

Category One: This category of Persians encompasses the half-assimilated. These Persians still predominately hang out with other Iranians, however, have some of their personality influenced and shaped by Western pop culture and media. They’re favorite artists might include The Fray, Benyamin, Mansour, and Maroon 5. They speak English without grammatical errors but are still more comfortable with Farsi. They almost exclusively shop at Nordstrom and Express.

Category Two: These Persians are very similar to category one Persians, however, most of their personality is influenced and shaped by Western culture. They probably have a 50/50 mix of Persian and non-Persian friends. Their favorite artists may include Radiohead, Goldfrapp, Googoosh, and Damien Rice. They are often more comfortable thinking and speaking in English but firmly hold on to, and are proud of, their Persian heritage. They participate in all cultural festivities and holidays even though they sometimes don’t really understand most of the traditions. They almost exclusively shop at Nordstrom and Express.

Category Three: It’s unfortunate to say but there is an increasing number of category three Persians. These are the people whom, if asked where they are from, will typical say “Toronto”, “LA” or just “England”. This lack of cultural identity can generally be attributed to two leading causes: (1) the political climate of Iran [today] is one where many try to cut ties instead of create them or, (2) they are second generation (or interracial) Persians who were either born outside of the motherland or simply moved here before their formative years without any cultural infusion. They almost exclusively shop at Hollister and Abercrombie & Fitch.

There are many people who will vehemently argue and dispute my taxonomy, be offended by my sweeping generalizations or simply grow depressed because they’ll realize they, too, are not that special. However, having said that, I am open and willing to listen to any feedback to adjust or refine my categories accordingly.

Adieu. Navid.

Adieu. Navid.

There are few things in life which make me happier than realizing one of my friends has changed their relationship status. I personally prefer breakups — not just because I am an asshole — but because they are generally bittersweet. You have to understand that changing one’s relationship status on Facebook is almost like etching the fate of two star-crossed lovers in molten lava. It’s the next step of breakup. There’s the breakup, and then there’s the official Facebook breakup. I like to call it Breakup 2.0.

I am particularly fond of Facebook breakups because it gives relationship voyeurs like myself the chance to peg each couple’s demise down to a specific time. This was never possible in Breakup 1.0 unless you were fortunate enough to be present or be listening on the phone. I usually — correction — incessantly refresh the page to catch the “single-ization” of one’s profile. You know, they usually start off by changing their profile picture and slowly un-tagging themselves out of those once cute happy couple portraits. If they were ever really in love, they even remove one another from their “Interests” section. But what does a Facebook relationship (or lack thereof) mean anyway?

Relationships, like any other social aspect of human behavior, are complex and difficult to define. It has taken sociologists, psychologists and women decades to analyze, understand and even accept paradigms for discussing and comparing relationships. However, the Facebook Gods took it upon themselves to define all relationships into six distinct categories. Your options only include: Single, In A Relationship, Engaged, Married, In An Open Relationship, and It’s Complicated. Oh, and lest we not forget the ever nebulous “NO SELECTION” which simply hides the criteria from your profile… though often times giving more away than you probably had anticipated.

Open Relationship? What does that even mean? The relationship is open to interpretation? The relationship is open for a third party? The relationship is open for destruction? The relationship is open under creative licenses? In fact, it doesn’t even matter. The only people whom are listed in open relationships are female friends who think it’s cute and endearing. I never really understood its charm. If you find yourself in love with a girl who is listed as in an open relationship with another female, cut your losses and move on. This one is trouble and chances are she’s trying to avoid the entire commitment thing altogether.

Then again, what do I know?

Adieu. Navid.

Any resemblance between my views and those of my employer, my terminal, or the view out my window are purely coincidental. Any resemblance between the above and my own views is non-deterministic. The question of the existence of views in the absence of anyone to hold them is left as an exercise for the reader. The question of the existence of the reader is left as an exercise for the second god coefficient (the discussion of non-orthogonal, non-integral polytheism is beyond the scope of this discussion).

Now, with the legalese and disclaimer out of the way, I can finally start rambling. As I was saying earlier, there is a cute distinction between cheating and having an affair which you should be privy to. You see, cheating is more of a lustful activity which generally occurs between the hours of 1am and 4am (inclusively). It usually starts with a late night text message or an afternoon rendezvous. It involves one or more parties whom are breaking the social contract of exclusivity. The probability of getting pregnant while cheating is asymptotic to zero. Ultimately, cheating destroys families and ruins relationships but nothing you should be too distressed about. People will get over it. It’s just business.

On the other hand, affairs have a touch of romance and spice that is to be adorned and envied by all. An affair generally consists of dinners, movies and passionate love-making. You can easily detect an affair as most dialogue consists of: “This is wrong, we shouldn’t be doing this”, or “I love you” and, my personal favorite, “When did you say your divorce was going to be final?” The probability of getting pregnant while having an affair is directly proportional to the improbability of having an abortion. That is, the more difficult and complicated the situation may become with the introduction of a potential child — the higher chance that child will be conceived.

All affairs end the same way: one party wants the other to leave their relationship but it’s not so easy for the counterpart and ultimately matters become complicated because she’s pregnant. She’s killed by the man or the wife/girlfriend of the man. It’s justified because he was only cheating after all. If the woman was the one having the affair, she simply informs her significant other that she’s pregnant and it is his child. They live happily ever after. If the relationship was homogenous, then obviously it’s neither cheating nor an affair — it’s just a regular weekend.

In short, I hope I have illuminated the key differences between cheating and having an affair. And I hope you’ll be better equipped to identify your circumstance next time you find yourself infidel. If you have trouble remembering the differences, just commit to memory: cheating is the backseat, while having an affair is the frontseat.

Adieu. Navid.

Adieu. Navid.

I know what you’re probably thinking: “hey, those are some great ideas! I’d definitely pay for that!” — And that’s the problem. I don’t think Facebook should take its social responsibility lightly. We have entrusted it with the most intimate of details and status updates. We have uploaded the most compromising of photos. We’ve rallied behind unpopular political groups, followed embarrassing trends and memes, drunk-poked ugly people and even donated to a number of cancer drives. At its epitome of success, for Facebook to turn its back on us now would be a devastating blow to the reproductive culture of our generation and the social fabric by which we all live.

For these reasons and more, I urge the United States Government to intervene before it is too late. Facebook should be government regulated to ensure that no single corporation (let alone privately held company) have this much power over the youth of today. If you think my proposal is over-the-top, just imagine how many lives Facebook will destroy if it suddenly decides to close operations and shutdown. Couples would break up, infidelity would reach epidemic levels and no one would know what their friends were up to.

Adieu. Navid.

You better create or update yours today.

Adieu. Navid.

Adieu. Navid.