Heather Through the Looking Glass: A Halloween Picture Story

Some photos.

Raining Balloons

Running around Chelsea yesterday morning in the pouring rain, I had an exciting Mary Tyler Moore moment on the street when I was running down 6th Ave towards 21st Street with a gigantic bag of balloons trailing after me, and my hat flew off! This proved to be a challenging moment in my life where I had to make a split second decision: to risk the balloons smacking someone in the head (or worse flying away!) to get my hat that was bound straight for a puddle (let's be honest, a murky lake), or run the remaining five blocks back without a hat or umbrella and potentially increase my chance to lower my immune system and catch H1N1 virus (trying to be politically correct...) or the H3N8 virus (aka "Horse Flu") though, 'they' tell me that it's found only in animals...suuure. Just like Swine--er, H1N1 flu, right?...

You can bet your darn patooty that I reached down and grabbed that hat! And, I didn't even lose a single balloon.

*UPDATE: Later in the day it was discovered that we were one balloon short of 26 (one for each letter of the alphabet) and thus, I had to go back. Let it be noted that the incident above did not reoccur.

Inside resides a small easily excited child

There I was, just standing on a street side in front of the Metropolitan Correctional Center (MCC) hugging myself because the temperature dropped when all of a sudden I see him, right in front of me...Mr. Noodle from Sesame Street. A small part of my childhood and the childhood of my younger siblings, this man was the highlight of the sesame street hour. I almost ran up to him like some awe-struck 8 year old screaming "Mr. Noodle! Mr. Noodle! Oh my gosh, you're Mr. Noodle!" but I did not. Instead, I calmly waited and was introduced to Bill Irwin and thanked him, and told him I was looking forward to working for him...a little formal perhaps for a 7 minute street-performance, yes. However, I prefer that formality to the opposite of people staring and me morphing from a professionaly dressed "D.A." to an awkward twenty-something girl running amok and making a scene by screaming "MR. NOODLE!!!"

The Case of Fahad Hashmi

As I mentioned in a previous post, I have become involved with an organization, THAW, that is working on communicating with and educationg the public on the case of Fahad Hashmi. Below is the link to the video from last week's vigil/street theater production. This upcoming Monday (October 26, 2009), I have the privilege of being in the performance (playing the attorney) along with Tony Award Winner Bill Irwin (currently in Bye Bye Birdie on Broadway). These first two performances (last week's and this upcoming Monday's) will be the same script, as people are becoming acquainted with the case. Every Monday hereafter there will be a 'new' production/vigil. The majority of the script is taken from the court transcripts. I will try to be diligent and post the link to the video and any updates. However, I encourage you all to check out the websites THAWaction.org as well as FreeFahad.com.

My hope is to broaden all of our horizons and to perhaps inspire each of us to look a little deeper into what our government has done and continues to do, and to see that the change has to come from the people up--not the top down.

On Thursday October 29th the SAM's (explained below) are up for potential renewal. On Friday October 30th Fahad is back in court for the first time in 2 years--the last time being June 1, 2007.

"Guantanomo NYC" Monday October 19, 2009 THAW Vigil-Street Performance

The Case

The Charges
The US government accused Fahad of providing material support to Al Qaeda, but a close look at the evidence shows that the charges make little sense. Fahad is NOT charged with providing any money or resources to any terrorists or being a member of al Qaeda. Instead, the US government charged Fahad with allowing an old acquaintance — Junaid Babar — to stay in Fahad’s London apartment for about two weeks in 2004. During that two week period, Babar allegedly kept several raincoats, ponchos, and waterproof socks in luggage that Babar temporarily stored in Fahad’s apartment. The US government then alleges that at some point Babar gave the socks and ponchos to a high ranking member of al Qaeda. There is no allegation that Fahad is a member of al Qaeda or that he ever personally gave or helped to give anything to any member of al Qaeda.

Conditions of Fahad’s Imprisonment
Fahad was held in England’s Belmarsh prison mixed with the general prison population for 11 months without incident. Since his extradition to the United States more than a year ago, Fahad has been kept in solitary confinement and subject to unduly restrictive Special Administrative Measures (SAMs), These draconian measures mandate that he be kept under 23-hour lockdown, be allowed only one visit from an immediate family member a week, and have no other contact with anyone besides his lawyer and prison officials. The SAMs also limit the material that Fahad can read and make it illegal for his family members to pass any messages from him onto friends.
Fahad is not charged with any acts of violence, nor were there any accusations that he attempted to contact any terrorists during his time with the general prison population at Belmarsh, rendering the restrictions he is subject to unnecessarily cruel in a society that treats people as innocent until proven guilty. SAMs are meant to prevent crimes orchestrated from within prison walls, but even if EVERYTHING the government alleges is true, there is no evidence that Fahad would be a danger if he were kept with the general prison population.

The Evidence Against Fahad
Substantial evidence in the case will come from the testimony of Junaid Babar, the man who stayed at Fahad’s London apartment as a houseguest. There is evidence to show that Babar’s testimony may be unreliable. He has taken a plea bargain – he will receive a reduced sentence if he agrees to testify against people like Fahad. It is a common practice for the government to offer a deal to one defendant who’s accused of a lesser crime in order to convict a more serious criminal – in this case his testimony will be used try to convict somebody who gave him a place to sleep for two weeks.

Civil Liberties Concerns
Many in the civil liberties community are gravely concerned by the implications of Fahad’s case. Fahad is facing trumped-up charges as a result of his opinions. It is a dangerous precedent to make people responsible for the actions of their houseguests.
Concern also surrounds the conditions of Fahad’s detention. Even were all the charges against him true, the SAMS measures would be unwarranted. The government should exercise extreme caution when deciding when to invoke such severe restrictions. He is in solitary confinement and subject to a regime of severe deprivation. Under the SAM imposed by the Attorney General, Hashmi must be held in solitary confinement and may not communicate with anyone inside the prison other than prison officials. Family visits were not granted for many months and are now limited to one person every other week for one and a half hours, and cannot involve physical contact. Mr. Hashmi may write only one letter (of no more than three pieces of paper) per week to one family member. He may not communicate, either directly or through his attorneys, with the news media. He may read only designated portions of newspapers - and not until thirty days after their publication - and his access to other reading material is restricted. He may not listen to or watch news-oriented radio stations and television channels. He may not participate in group prayer. He is subject to 24-hour electronic monitoring and 23-hour lockdown, has no access to fresh air, and must take his one-hour of daily recreation - when it is given - inside a cage.
--Taken directly from FreeFahad.com
Full court transcript available on-line

NaNoWriMo: A challenge to be won.

Lethargy and disappointment have unfortunately stunted my ability to accurately describe my experience in New York thus far. I fear that pessimism has sought its way into me and I just won't have it any longer. From here on out, I am wiping this sad and struggling face off and putting on a slightly less sad and much more appreciative and optimistic face on!

It has been far to easy for me to sink into dark and depressed days where I just don't do anything except stare into a screen filled with job descriptions and click "upload resume"--this is not healthy for anyone. Especially not a person who is used to being a very busy bee. This week has marked a new awareness and a new sense of action. I went to a vigil on Monday evening put on by THAW (Theaters Against War) and am going on Saturday to get a script to be an actor in next Monday's vigil stree theater performance. I love theater as activism. Along with that, I have decided to partake in this years National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo). This is where participants sign up to write an entire novel--that's 50,000 words folks--in 30 days. Seeing as this is a huge feat for any person, I am expecting it to be a very difficult endeavor for myself as I have never-ever written a novel. I have written short stories when I was younger, but in recent years I focused on non-fiction and decided this time around that I would challenge myself even further by writing a fiction novel. That starts in 11 days. I have next to me my book "The Most Common Errors in English Usage and How to Avoid Them" by Elaine Bender along with "Existentialsim is a Humanism" by Jean-Paul Sartre and finally, my delightful current pleasure read which just feeds my brain and soul "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" by Haruki Murakami. Quite obviously the first book is going to be helpful in my upcoming month of writing like a mad-person...the Sartre book is food for thought. I love reading about philosophy--not surprising right? And, Mr. Murakami is a new favorite! His words touch me as a human, as a writer and definitely as a runner.

Back to New York.

I had a chance to wander around the West Village the other day and found this wonderful little travel specialy book store IdleWild it really is a treasure. It is small and a recent addition to the city. They have author events all the time, I think this week alone there are four! I missed the one this evening unfortunatley. It was with the author of this fabulous book all about New York's special little spots. Of course, being a newbie to NYC it would have been a helpful event to attend. Alas! Another time.

Living on the Upper West Side has given me a great opportunity to get to know Central Park. It is so amazingly large that I can't even tell you how many times I have gotten lost. Once, I ended up accidentally crossing the park to East 80th street by the Guggenheim and, trying to get back to my apartment, crossed baack across only to end up at West 100th street--23 streets from where I was supposed to be! It was a splendid 6.41 mile run/walk that day...I was, however, able to find my way to Belvedere Castle and show my sister the magnificent view of the city. I am acquiring my sense of direction, but can I just tell you how grateful I am to google.maps.com? The public transportation directions are so helpful! I finally figured out the pattern of uptown/downtown trains and which side of the street you need to be on. Also, the avenues run North to South and the streets East to West (cross town). This is very helpful to know when people are telling you to meet them someplace.

I have a chosen haunt better known as the Aroma Espresso Bar, and this place is pretty awesome. They know my name now, and some of the staff have decided that because I am unemployed and only ever get orange juice that they will occasionally give me free cookies...such wonderful people! They are good cookies too. Some have caramel centers with shortbread, others are chocolate chip and granola..mmm and then there is this amazing almost croissant-like pastry with a thick chocolate inside (small but tasty!) it almost reminds me of the chocolate breakfast bread I had in Turkey...ahh chocoloate.

The fall is slowly setting in. Last week there were a few days where it seemed to have skipped Autumn all together and jumped right to winter--it got to 37 degrees! But, it is back to low 60's high 50's during the day with sunny, only slightly cloudy, days. I can't wait for the leaves to start turning and falling, though I have a feeling that when that starts to happen I will be stuck ina corner of my darling Aroma bar with my orange juice (cookie?) typing maddingly away on my computer to produce an absolute genius work of art...or else, crying pitifully over my crap pages. We'll see.

The Human Condition.

I am sitting in a café in New York City. I am unemployed. I am staring out the window with the rain falling outside: I thought I had left the drizzle behind me. My days are empty if you think that working a paying job makes your life full; my days are full if you think having freedom to go where you want, when you want without having a time-line is the essence of living. I wake up, pick the cat hair off of my face as it has usually collected there and stare into the room of the tiny apartment that I am calling my ‘home’—it is a small but useful space with a collection of suitcases and piles of clothes. It has a lived in feeling to it, while still seeming a little vacant. I yearn for that job that I will get someday, and yet I loathe the thought of a job. I don’t understand why this has become such a necessary aspect of being human. A job is a purpose? A purpose is to find a job? To survive one must have money, to have money one must sacrifice time and energy to acquire a job. I want to exist in this world as an active participant, yet, I don’t want to participate in this world of survival=money=job=money=survival. I miss being a small child, innocently unaware of the struggles that we each face within our lives to become a ‘real person’ that person that grows into their dark circles under their eyes, the inherent sagging shoulders on days where your head hangs heavily from your neck…tired of the monotony of life and yet, you do it all to be a part of life. To live. To experience this world.

I don’t know where to go with myself anymore. I don’t mean physically. I get to walk around the greatest city in the world for as long as I want right now. Those usually take me to spots overlooking the city, or viewing the well-known city locations like the Rockefeller center with the ice skating rink, or the NBC studios. (Side note: as I am typing this, they are filming a scene at Aroma Espresso Café for “As the World Turns” right behind me. I think my back could be famous tomorrow…oh New York City.) What I mean is this: What am I doing in this world? Sometimes I think that I should be an attorney like so many people suggest to me…perhaps that is where I could most help others. Something about being attorney just doesn’t appeal to me though, and then I question my selfishness. Am I wasting away my talents and potential by not pursuing a legal career? That is the same question I asked myself when I stopped pursuing a theater major. I have all of these inner struggles with the concept of selfishness. I get overly concerned and then, other times, I completely disregard and that is when I am at my worst I am afraid. Hypersensitive. Cold. What a great dichotomy…These questions and concerns are what prompted me to design the major that I did: an intricate look at identity and self. This is why I think that writing suits me well. I get to ask questions and ponder them. I can just think about these things, read and discuss them and write about what all of this means to me. But, does anyone else really care? I had this grandiose plan that I would start a blog and then hundreds, perhaps thousands of people would read it and I could then know, this is right for me. I am a writer. Unfortunately, rarely do things go as are planned or wished. I can accept that. I know that in life things take time, patience and hard work. It is just hard to be in such a state of transition and having to be okay with not knowing...I'm learning a lot about myself.

The Rıght of (Turkısh) Way

Today was an early mornıng that started at 5:30am when we had to be up to leave by 6am to drıve Lızzıe to the Ataturk aırport to fly back to the USA. Maggıe and then went on our own adventure on a Ferry rıde across the Bosphorous and Golden Horn to the Black Sea. It was a pleasant 1.5 hr rıde up and a few hours to wander around the small town and clımb the hıll to a castle and peer out over the Black Sea (not so black FYI) and another 1.5 hours back. Of course, who do we meet on the ferry but four Calıfornıans! We chıt-chat for awhıle and see a massıve swarm of Jelly fısh ın the Bosphorous alongsıde our Ferry (ıt was quıte a scary thought to sınk ın Jelly fısh ınfested water)and starıng awe-shocked by the $60,000,000 mansıons along the Bosphorous waters edge and theır ın-grouınhd outsıde swımmıng pools and yachts parked ın frong. We had an ınterestıng questıon once we started talkıng about cars and then traffıc and how no one here seems to use traffıc sıgnals or road lınes (you could be drıvıng wıth the medıan lıne ın between the front wheels and be okıe-dokıe as long as no one crashes ınto you!) so we posed the questıon: What are Turkısh vıews or needs of ınsurance and traffıc ıncıdents? Are they as festıdıous as U.S. Amerıcans are?

**sıde note**
Thıngs that have made an ımpressıon on me whılst ın Turkey:

1. The Black Tea. Every mornıng, afternoon, mıd-afternoon, evenıng and before bedtıme we drınk tea. Let me just clarıfy, thıs ıs the best tea...ever.

2. Whıle I apprecıate my own countrıes separatıon of church and state and Turkey has freedom of relıgıon as well, I love the strength of the Muslım relıgıon all around and the unıfyıng qualıty ıt has on thıs culture. The prayer calls I fınd to be beautıful ınstead of repetıtıve and noısy--they brıng me joy and sımple momentary clarıty.

3. The charmıng manor of the Turkısh people ın theır entırety.

4. The lack of drıvıng rules (or the followıng of them) as a wıdespread decısıon of the people and yet, the safety and general safety that I feel on the roads.

Thıs brıngs me to my purpose of thıs late-nıght post.

Sıttıng ın the front seat of the car, my seat by habıt throughout thıs trıp, my eye-lıds heavy wıth sleep after a day that started much too early...an unfortunately brıght 5:30am...our car ıs swervıng and weavıng at ıts usual speed and near-hıttıngness, when we come to a street. It ıs close to the apartment that I am stayıng at and I can practıcally feeeeel the sheets beneath my overtıred and heavy bones.

The cars are backed up. At fırst, I thınk nothıng of thıs. I see the taxı ın front of us turn the reverse lıghts on and feel our car begın to do the same, expectıng to take a rıght-hand turn as ıt ıs a one-way street...mmm...nope. We veer left, cuttıng off the taxı who waaas ın front of us and now ıs angrıly honkıng as our lıttle sılver Fıat ıgnores the flashıng lıghts ın our faces and sıts patıently as the traffıc rolls past us, goıng the opposıte dırectıon than we are tryıng to turn. My heart quıckens slıghtly as the lıttle Fıat lurches forward as a small openıng appears just at the same moment a women ıs tryıng to cross the street, we nearly mıss her and she stops herself before her foot ıs lost to our many pounds of metal and flesh. Up a lıttle street lıned on both sıdes wıth cars parked, leavıng only a very narrow space for one sıngle lıne of cars to go down the street. Only, ıt ıs a one way street agaın and yes, we are goıng the wrong way--on purpose. As my hands grıp my water bottle a lıttle tıghter I notıce a large whıte delıvery truck comıng towards us on thıs creek of pavement. We stop ın front as the drıver waves hıs hand our horn ıs blarıng, Turkısh ıs beıng splayed out the wındows back and forth back and forth back and forth untıl ıt ıs resolved that no, we cannot pass as there are cars ımpatıent behınd the delıvery truck. Who would have thought?

The street seems to get smaller as our car backs up the length of the dıstance we have drıven narrowıly mısssıng the parked cars. I fınd myself holdıng my breath my eyes wanderıng to Maggıes and sılently askıng `please tell me you are seeıng thıs too` and gettıng the nervous stare ın return that says `Yes, oh hell yes.` A sıgh ıs beıng exhaled from my chest as our street ends and the car begıns to correct ıtself to joın traffıc, goıng the correct way, when CRUNCH! our Fıat has hıt a van behınd us.

Nothıng serıous, the van ıs fıne and the people drıve on as do we ın our slıghtly dented car realızıng that our answer to our earlıer ıquestıon ıs, nope people dont really care about mınor traffıc ıncıdents and ınsurance probably ısnt that bıg of a deal here...Who knew that the Rıght of Way ın Turkey ıs every way, as long as everyone walks (or drıves) away ın most all of theır pıeces.