categorization of the day

what is it with nail polish and men?
why do some of them seem to detest it? is it possible to overgeneralize and divide men into two categories basing how they view nail polish?
group 1 would be natural-beauty lovers. they are the same group of men who are more fond of their women when they wear no make-up with somewhat out-of-the-bed hairdo. they also prefer seldom worn high-heels and dress-ups. they don't really care for exquisite lingerie but they do care for intellectual talks over microwaved food. i'm sure, these men claim to love you simply the way you are.
group 2 would be inner AND outer beauty lovers. image is everything in this world. would they go for stepford wives if they could? these love to pamper their women. they love fine dinners out on the town, with dress-ups, make-ups, and (if bachelors)hook-ups. they prefer to hold manicured hands and rub pedicured feet. they like to please their eyes and women with hot red nail polish do flatter their (and everybody else's) eyes. they would tell you how beautiful you are.
of course, this is rather blather. but, for the sake of the argument..which group does your man belong to?

nightmare of the day..

bones in my body that have been aching for months started protesting at approximately 3:30 am. they were weary of me and i could not pamper them as much as they deserved. while trying to decide whether i was dreaming or not, they, in unison, threatened to abandon me to hang in a bone-less abyss. i thought they were bluffing, as any one in the right mind would do, so i shouted back: "show me what you got!". you silly silly girl! why would you ever talk back to them? they were not bluffing at all. something happened.. that weird, tingly, suffocating, stomach-growling, throbbingly clenching sensation overwhelmed me, as if i was giving birth again. and they were GONE...without another warning. just left..
my body was extremely heavy. i could feel my own weight in full force. even though i was lying in bed the thought of moving my fingertip made me so panicky and desperate that i was already hyperventilating. i tried to calm myself down by intensely staring at the clock. i started to pray, which quickly turned into a list of promises. i took an oath of repentance and piety.
this whole scenario took place in less than a minute. 20-30 seconds maybe. i laid there motionless, panic-stricken. i still don't know whether my eyes were open or not. maybe i tasted death, maybe i was not even close. the last thing i remember is the inevitable fusing of sleep and my relief.

speculation of the day

he, who is not supposed to know me, and she, who is supposed to be my best friend were dating for the last couple of months. i haven't met him yet. i accumulated one-sided information about their relationship and built the full picture from what she did and did not tell me. i know her well enough to understand what is really going on if she unintentionally leaves out a detail.
he was madly in love, while she, as always, put her shield up. within these couple of months, she tried to break up at least 5 times and he handled every one of them so delicately that they were still together.
these two birds' feathers do not flock together at all. you would recognize her at a party for being the chain-smoker in the corner. she does not mingle well nor easily, and does not care to socialize. he, on the other hand, is the party whore, social butterfly, merry go round, or whatever you wanna call. i never came to understand how and why these two came together, but from what she told me it happened at a mall while she was buying shoes. i tend to scratch that and reconstruct my own version where they met at graduate school. she was impressed by his social abilities, he was impressed by her wits. there there, this version suits better. anyhow, why do i think about my so-called best friend's love life? i didn't really..until tonight.
i received an e-mail from him..her him. the last i heard from her, they were so happy, she found the one, they were going to be together forever, etc etc. so, i did not dare to ask any further though i knew something was up for her to be this expressive. he, who i thought did not know me, sent me an e-mail asking for advice. she was locked in herself, and did not let him in. she did not ask for a break up this time, that was what alarmed him. as soon as i read his e-mail, i began dialing the numbers while cursing my luck for being dealt the mediator role, again. her voice was soft yet very confident. i did not even ask about him, because there was no him for her..that i could tell. poor him.
i hung up the phone without asking any details, but talking about life for both of us. she was saddened by how happy i am even though i did not rub it in. i was melancholic because she was living in my city, working in my job, eating at my restaurant, visiting my parents..
i did not write him back yet. but i think what happened was; she was pregnant, did not want a child.. at least not with him. of course, she secretly had an abortion. he was the one who had no clue, and she was the one who left him out once and for all. that or she is deeply in love with someone else.

profession of the day

i am going to find one. a professional masseuse who can create magic in her job. all my bones are aching, especially the ones in my back. if someone can turn me into my old athletic self with one (or better a couple of) session(s), please call me.
i checked wikipedia. there are apparently tens of methods i wasn't aware of. but the things i know that i'm aware of are very little, so that does not even count. ayurvedic, champissage, esalen, hilot, shiatsu, raynor, lomi lomi, visceral manipulation are just a couple of options that my dear masseuse is going to try on me . i have no clue what these mean or what you go through in order to call your friends and brag about your recent and wonderfully delightful lomi lomi. but, sure it sounds great. it's like music to my ears and rhythm through my muscles.

conversation of the day

she thought everything was going to get better..time was supposed to heal all kinds of wounds. desperation that perched in her soul would be wiped by new memories. but, no.

-no no no no (in a mocking voice)
-you liked it?
-well..not really. what do you mean? you are a writer now?
-it's just that i thought if i took notes of sentences that come to my mind (more like rambling)..
-then what? you will have a novel? come on! you are being ridiculous again.
-but.. but.. but... but, didn't you say that everybody has their own way of doing stuff.
-i did not mean writing, my god! you know why this is. you are reading too many love novels. you should stop and focus on something else.
-yeah, maybe :(

she should have known better. time heals all kinds of wounds..

dilemma of the day

have you ever felt ambivalent about a book? the one that is scaringly captivating and pulls you in like a vortex... those are the ones that give you pleasure and pain at the same time. you want to know what is going to happen next, but right now. but, no..you don't wanna hear how the story evolved from someone else. you want to walk through the pages wishing the seconds would go faster and your eyes could see through. thus you will be at the end sooner than you estimated. yet you want to savor the feeling, like reading with your heart in your mouth. the best solution, the one that has worked for you so far, is to throw away the book. hide it under the sofa, go out and put it in the trunk of the car, i don't know..but what i do know is, do it now and you won't be sorry. this way you can imagine seeing all possible endings in your mind. but wait! what if the actual ending of the story was shaped differently by the gifted author than the ones you can possibly come up with? should that matter? you wouldn't know the original ending anyhow, and whenever you need to recount the events, that will be your everchanging unique story.
this is killing me!

thanks of the day

if you ever want to feel incredibly blessed, arrange everything so that you have the house to yourself.. it is, of course, if you have roommates or living with a (your) family and if you just miss being alone and spending time by yourself..think about it. you are going to watch TV, write, read, study, drink, play, eat, etc. whatever it is that you feel like doing. but no, keep in mind that this is not to complain about the people and things that occupy my mind, time, and energy. this is all about me or you, for that matter.
how should i put it? it is this great sense of relief where you have zero responsibilities but at the same time know that they will be back shortly. it is a strange addiction...wanting to be by yourself. ..like diving into the numbingly cold water and not entirely feeling your legs. it is that refreshing and awakening feeling that reminds you where you are, who you are, and within all this busy-ness you are alone in the end. and when your loved ones come back, you not only appreciate them more, but feel more at peace with yourself. it is like fixing the scale and keeping the balance..like self-initiated homeostasis...

justification of the day

i recently attended a conference. one of the seminars was on darwinian themes in contemporary psychology. i will spare you the psych lingo and boring details but give you information about darwin's mate selection strategy. while pondering on whether he should marry emma wedgwood, he noted pros and cons of the situation in handwriting. at the top, he marked "this is the question". he then listed a couple of things supporting his mate. actually, not the mate but any mate. "an object to cuddle with" caught my eye. baffled, the speaker directed us to another sentence: "better than a dog anyhow".
nice going mr. darwin!
given his objectivity and possibly extent of information on the other sex, this is not puzzling. it might come across as demeaning to women and an abhorrent thought after all. on the contrary...
he had paulie, his beloved dog, who died only 3 days after he passed away. darwin, in his writings, based some of his views and explanations to dog behavior (e.g., religion). these suggest that charles and paulie had such deep connection and love for one another. in turn, he did not belittle emma wedgwood but exalted her in the best way he knew how. she was the one to choose. in addition to her promising fertility, which was later supported by 10 children she gave birth to, she was better than paulie.
hip hup hurray for mr. charles darwin!
on a different note, there should be universal ethical laws on not to publish people's, whoever they are, very intimate decision processes.

still, all selected mates living in pet-free houses can now take a deep breath...

phrase of the day

today, i realized that one cannot recall a past action unless it is dusted off well and there is negative correlation between dusting-off and the level of expertise/experience on that specific action. let me clarify that.
when a person frequently practices a motor, emotional, or a mind action it becomes an _almost_ automatic task reaching to the level of unconscious execution. we can say one becomes an expert at it. efficiently speaking a language that is not your mother tongue, riding a bike, swimming, chatting with your best friends, thinking about your own research are only a couple of examples. then a certain amount of time passes during which one ceases to practice the (habitual) act. say, you did not talk about your research in a professional setting for the last 4 months. following this dormant phase, if you are required to carry on with the same action as capable as before...you need to dust-off the smut on those files. and the time it takes you to get back to your old self is negatively correlated with your prior expertise on the subject. in other words, the more you had high self-esteem and the more comfortable you were with the research 4 months ago, it will take less time for you to wrap your head around it and emerge from the dust. depending on how efficient you were with X, the dusting-off period will lie on a continuum from trice to eternity.
to sum up my friends, i hereby, coin a phrase for our community..

advice of the day

go to l.a. burdick if you have a sweet tooth and want to get rid of it (at least for the day). drinking a large cup of milk chocolate (dark and white are also available) is going to leave you with mixed feelings.. you will start with an incredibly deep satisfaction like shivering with the first touch. creamy chocolate with the right amount of sugar will overindulge your taste buds. then towards the middle, for a split second you will doubt whether you would be able to finish it. for the first time in your life, you will doubt this. maybe you won't finish your cup or maybe you should not. by this time, your nasal passage is already acridly sweet. but no, you are not a quitter! your mother didn't raise you to be one, especially when it comes to food. and, the last drops will cry after you, that's common knowledge. yess, one sip and it's over. this is overrrr. and i will never...

this blog is under contemplation..

i still haven't figured out what to write here. since it is called min-a-min should it be an ode to my baby or some sort of diary for everyone to see? it is the latter part i am not so comfortable with. i cannot even scribble down notes during a class without thinking that someone might see. so what do i do? if they speak only and only english, my notes would be in turkish and vice versa. if they can speak both, i either throw in a lot of french words, make up words that i won't even remember what they meant, or write in ottoman turkish, from right to left, and don't even bother decoding it later on . i think this is too much information too soon and i gave it away. we'll see what happens. maybe this would turn into one of those notepads full of stories and poems? maybe i will be so productive that i will have millions of followers (ok, got a little carried away, let's say tens and be more realistic) and then i will be the ice skating champion of the world and get the best mom of all times award.