Book of D: Joshua J. Dominguez, Commencement 2024

Congrats to my great-nephew, Joshua J. Dominguez. Big Spring High School. Class of 2024.

Book of D: Pride Drive, My Nephew Joshua

My Nephew Joshua Dominguez, along with his bandmates, discuss their upcoming trip to Hawaii (live KBST 103.9 on 05/14/24).The Big Spring High School band, a.k.a. Pride Drive will be traveling to Hawaii on May 29th. My nephew is a trombone player and a drum major for the Pride Drive. [Radio public file: KBST FM 95.7 · KBST AM 1490 · KBTS 94.3 FM]

Book of D: A Cacophony of Onomatopoeia

 What, do you probably ask, is a cacophony of onomatopoeia. 

TBC

Book of D: Spill the Feed

Hassan came over again. He was in a good mood - as always. His presence made me happy as well. He was talking about his studies and how he was looking forward to spring break. He also spoke about honoring the fast during Ramadan. In his home country, Ramadan 2024 will start on March 12, 2024 and will end on April 09, 2024. The Ramadan daily fast starts after the sehri or suhur and is broken with the evening meal, iftar. Hassan mentioned how, during Ramadan, his father Amir would remind everyone in the household to wake early for sehri; otherwise, they would have to go without drink and food until iftar. Hassan added that every morning during Ramadan, Amir would get up early to start the day's fire outside in the brazier. The brazier is a square or rectangular metal contraption for creating a fire, usually to keep a tea kettle hot as well as to keep the humans warm whilst outside. Hassan said that his father would make certain to "spill the wheat" for the chickens in the yard. I assumed that "spill the wheat" meant to throw wheat on the ground to feed the chickens. When I asked Hassan to clarify the idiom, he laughed and said that he has gotten a lot of funny feedback from other people, not of middle-Eastern descent, when he used such a term as "spill the wheat." He said this one guy at the university asked him if it meant gossip, which made Hassan laugh so much that his stomach ached. Hassan still laughs at his university mate's interpretation of "spill the wheat," mostly, because why would his dad Amir want to feed the chickens with gossip. When Hassan shared this with me, I laughed really hard, too. I told Hassan that "spill the wheat" would make an excellent code phrase to be used between him and me whenever someone shares gossip or tries to be too nosy and intrusive. 

Book of D: Hassan's Anecdotes

Hassan visited me again today. He was in a great mood. I was also in a good mood, especially because of his visit. He started out by telling me that he had injured his leg the day before during his workout at a local gym. Hassan added that the injury had reminded him of a story-within-a-story that his father Amir would tell. Hassan's anecdote went like this: 

My father used to tell a similar story of an injured leg. In ancient times, when they harvested crops by hand, one of the tribe members would always complain of foot pain and claim he couldn't work. They believed him and tried to treat his foot, but to no avail. He kept insisting his foot wasn't getting better. One night, as he slept, they became suspicious of him. They opened the bandage on the foot he claimed was hurting and tied it to the opposite foot. When he woke up in the morning, they asked him about his foot. He grabbed the foot that had been bound and said it hurt badly. That's when they realized he was lying and gave him a good beating. 

It was a harsh yet funny story that Hassan told. I am so appreciative of the fact that he feels comfortable with me in such a way that he is able to share tales of his childhood and stories that his father would bestow upon them whenever the opportunity gave way. 

Hassan and I ended our visit by drinking black tea. I must say that although it has taken me time to adapt to the bitterness of black tea, I have come to appreciate the health benefits of black tea. Besides, it is not so bad when drinking it with a cube of sugar placed inside the mouth, held between the teeth. This is the customary way of drinking tea in Iran, and although we are in America, I still succomb to the adage of "when in Rome . . ." because it makes for a healthy, safe friendship no matter where or with whom you find yourself.

Book of D: Hassan Questions Idioms

Hassan came by to visit earlier today. He was feeling a little under the weather. Speaking of "under the weather," Hassan told me about the issues he and his family had with idioms, colloquialisms, and homophones when they moved to the United States over 30 years ago. He stated that when he first heard the phrase, "under the weather," he was so confounded by envisioning a person trapped under a cloud of sinister weather; like a boy trapped under a rain cloud unable to escape.

Book of D: My Iranian Friend Hassan

Hassan came over to have tea. That is the highlight of his time with me, with anyone. Hassan loves tea. He taught me how Iranian families drink tea, and ever since that first lesson with the familial details, I was hooked on drinking tea as Hassan and his fellow country people drink it. Hassan told me about his dad, Amir, and how Amir would bestow great Iranian folktales to the family during tea time – actually, the dad would pretty much regale them with a story whenever they were together and had time for such banter. The one story that always fascinated my friend Hassan goes something like this: 

Milad grew up in Iran, near the beautiful mountains that surrounded the town of Langaroud. But, as time went by and Milad's family grew in numbers and in distance, he found himself living in Turkey with his own wife and three sons. As Milad grew older in years, he contemplated moving back to Iran to be near the beautiful mountainous terrain of Langaroud, but he did not want to inconvenience his wife Mahim. After all, Mahim had sacrificed so much in order that the family move to Turkey to start a textile business, so Milad would not ask her to move again and leave their three sons and their respective families. Several more years went by and Milad eventually gave up on his dream of moving back home. After all, Milad's family was healthy and happy, and his business, although it had taken time to grow, it eventually became rather large and enormously successful. Milad retired at an early age and gifted the business to his three sons. Milad's beautiful Mahim passed away a few years later. The dream that had consumed so much of Milad's time as a middle aged man had once again reared its head now that he was elderly. Milad had a family meeting and shared his dream with his sons, and their families, of moving back to Iran. The sons were concerned, but they knew the yearning that Milad had for his home country. Much to Milad's surprise, Mahim had often told their three sons of Milad's wish to move back to Iran. Hearing of this touched Milad and almost brought him to tears. His precious Mahim had been paying attention to his gripes; moreover, she had regularly shared Milad's dreams with their sons. Milad sold everything that had belonged only to him and Mahim and gifted the rest of his personal belongings to his sons and grandchildren. He only needed enough money to travel to Iran and buy some property near the foothills of Langaroud. He would build his own one-room cabin to mimic the very cabin in which he was born and lived until he married Mahim. Such was planned and such was done: Milad moved to Iran. He bought prime land at the foothills as he had envisioned – the land even had a creek running through it. Milad was happy and lived another thirteen years before his tired body had had enough of this earthly realm. Milad's sons were at his bedside when Milad took his final breath – just as they had been when Mahim passed away. The sons opted out of having a "body washer" bathe their deceased father's body. The sons instead took great care to wash their father's body and prepare it for immediate burial as is customary. Milad's body was wrapped in a simple white cloth, placed on a stretcher with his face covered. The men of the mourning party heaved Milad's corpse upon their shoulders, shouting “la ila ilallah,” which means “there is no God but God.” The men walked toward the cemetery in cadence, and the rest of the mourners followed in a long procession. The love story of Milad and Mahim had also been laid to rest. Or was it.

Upon finishing this fascinating – yet poignant story to me for the first time, I asked Hassan why this was his favorite folktale, Hassan just smiled. It took several occasions of drinking tea and sharing stories for Hassan to finally admit that Milad had been his paternal grandfather. Milad passed away right before Hassan was born. The story and telling it was my dear friend Hassan’s way of paying respect to Milad and of keeping the family history "with his heart.” So, the folktale of one Milad was, in fact, a true story – not fiction. Therefore, the love story of Milad and Mahim continues – forever.

Book of D: My BIL Pancreatic Cancer

My dear, sweet sister sent my sisters and me this group text this morning at 11:16 am (Feb. 22, 2024).

"Well it was confirmed Wero had pancreatic cancer considered stage 4 cuz it's already spread to the liver I'll let Sis J explain everything to you later I'm trying to stay positive and not cry and still believe in the power of Gods healing power processing everything right now. Love you so much"

As for me, I am so full of sorrow and heartache. For my sister who has lost way too much during her life as well as for my nieces whom have also lost so much. I feel so many things for my dear sis and my nieces because their lives have been plagued by so much woe, heartache, and needless pain. But, that pain is from events in the past. The past is where my sister and nieces have decided to leave that pain, so I, too, shall muster up courage and love to leave that pain in the past.

Book of D: Defining the New Normal

꧄맏😠Since the fiasco that caused my career at the university to come to an end, I have had trouble sleeping. I have been a content creator and making thumbnails and editing videos for some YouTubers for a while now, and I guess I have taken the adage about "when in Rome" to heart. So . . . I have been staying up late watching YouTube and all its glory. At first, I was mostly watching the influencers that I had subscribed to for a long time; only watching on and off - during the day. But then, I started watching without cause or concern. I was watching incessantly, especially DIY channels. Then one night it hit me and I started wondering about the YT videos that cater to ASMR (autonomous sensory meridian response). As a counselor, I am well acquainted with ASMR, especially because I am an avid fan and believer of methods that deal with tapping and meridian points. I just never bought the idea of videos being able to calm and soothe people. I was wrong. The ASMR videos are awesome. I am following new channels that I might not have tried in the past except for the fact that they are listed on ASMR watch lists. I won't mention the channels, but they have actually somewhat helped me push away from the imposter syndrome and self-fulfilling prophecy theories that have been plaguing me for such a long time. I am replacing negative self-talk with positive self-talk and incorporating more of the self-affirmation theory in my daily life. I am trying to replace the screwed up pathogenic beliefs that were embedded in me from an early age and only grew in proportion to my age because of the people with whom I surrounded myself. I'm not casting aspersions; the ideologies and how I chose to allow to allow in my life during any given zeitgeist and epoch are partly of my own doing. I might not have known about or for sure not how pathogenic beliefs were negatively affecting me, but since majoring in psychology and earning a master's in clinical mental health counseling, I have seen the error of my ways. Sure, I still hold others accountable for any maltreatment of me, but I know I allowed much of it. Just like I gave too much power to my former employer and allowed the admin to walk all over me at times. Just like I gave too much power to my former lovers and allowed them to use and abuse me. Just like I am currently giving too much power to my stress and allowing myself to be depleted of melatonin. I can just see the cortisol levels laughing and doing a little jig as they slam my bloodstream. Okay, circle of control: I cannot control what others do or say, but I can control how I react to it. I just need to turn off all electronics by 9 pm and do my breathing techniques as I lay in bed. My new normal should not consist of negativity or for certain not streaming YouTube at 1 a.m. My new normal should only include positive things and people (that's on me). I need to seriously start studying for the National Counselor Examination (NCE). I'm all over the map, per se, but I'll get myself in line. I always have - I always will.