Awkward: Just Be-ing Iranian

It normally doesn't take more than a couple of lines before I feel a couple of light-years away from my so called elected president, Ahmadinejad. And it doesn't take me long - no more than a couple of minutes, normally - to find myself another couple of light-years away from that other so called elected president, Bush. In fact, being an ordinary sane Iranian, it is becoming increasingly difficult to situate yourself in the universe. You couldn't possibly ghrrrch your Pringles and watch buildings in Bushehr burn; nor could you easily indulge in the possibilities of a nuclear Islamic Republic. And yet, just as you ponder, you know the with-me-or-against-me bullies, both, are running towards eachother, head on, and heads down. You see them get close, and it leavs you in one of those awkward positions where you can't watch, and you can't turn away; when you can't stop them, but you cant let them be. And it really is an awkward position: just to be an Iranian..ordinary.. and sane.

Intro: These Paragraphs

For a long time now, whenever I take a look at The Guardian or the NY Times, whenever I read the Independent or the Washington Post, and whenever I punish my eyes with the endless columns of the so called leading analysts and academics of sorts, every day and every night, I wonder why on earth am I not commenting on everything? (And is it not so that 'comments' better not be if they're not on everything.) I reckon, however, that my comments would mostly be on issues somewhat related to me. That is to say, Iran, its politics, and its global image; films, football -and Barcelona for that matter; history, mountains -and geology for that matter; music, mechatronics, and their love affair; or it can be Tehran, London, and the world I live in, but not necessarily belong to... Hence, cometh hereafter these paragrphs.