Ever since my dad admitted how his mother died, I have been a bit haunted and consumed with an agitated energy. I can't explain it except to say that I feel stressed out. I feel like I have to go to Iran and get to the bottom of this because nobody else will and soon all the witnesses will be dead. The thought of going to Iran and what I imagine will be emotionally-intensive interviews (even harder than the ones I did last time I was there) weighs on me, but I know it has to be done. I think it helps me to stress out about the logistical things that have to be accomplished because emotionally, I feel very flat and disassociated.

At this point, my creative life and my social life have somewhat melded, so I guess I'm just looking forward to seeing my dude tonight and reveling in the great fact that I could fuck him or dump him and I am my paternal grandmother's granddaughter, and there is no way in hell anyone could have even begun to imagine that when they held her head under water until she stopped kicking and breathing. You cannot stop the inertia of what is going to happen anyway.