moradi 10-16

MORADI | One Fish, Two Fish, White-ish, Brown-ish

There’s an old Middle Eastern-American proverb that — roughly translated — goes something like, “I’m actually technically white according to the Census.”

This proverb, with its awkward adverbs and desperate lust for ethos, has dribbled out of my mouth more times than I am proud to admit. I am, after all, the product of two white American frontiers: the sweetly benevolent whiteness of Treasure Valley and the abstruse, nebulous whiteness of the Virginia piedmont. As would most little girls with black frizzy hair and a funny name in towns 92 percent white, I fell to official racial classifications when I had nothing else that could back up my claim to sameness. I’m not white. Sorry, U.S. Census, CommonApp and my loyal following over at the neo-eugenicist website (that once republished one of my columns) Prometheism.net!

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MORADI | In Response to Your Inquiry on How I’m Doing

Well, I just stress ate a good third of my friend’s leftover birthday cake. I haven’t gone on my daily run in several days, and my period is a good four days early. I’m not pregnant, but what if I wanted to be? Gah! I haven’t finished updating my resume from this summer.

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TEST SPIN | Macklemore — GEMINI

To be a Macklemore fan nowadays is to beget ruthless harassment. Ruthless, but honestly much deserved. With his gauche dad-like demeanor, often bluntly unaware lyrics and ostensibly supra-woke politics, Macklemore is undoubtedly the most uncool artist to have ever graced the Billboard Top 100. Maybe it’s because of my proclivity for irony turning into genuine interest, or maybe it’s because of Macklemore’s charming awkwardness, but I’ve stayed a fan since that fateful day that someone sent me the YouTube link to “Thrift Shop.”

Yeah, I said it. I like Macklemore.

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MORADI | How Do You Like Them Apples?

I recently bought an iPhone after having a Samsung Galaxy for almost five years. I had lamented the lack of iMessage, the terrifyingly janky emojis (Why does the screaming-in-fear emoji have a GHOST coming out of its mouth?) and the front camera that made me look like a cloudy mirage. Tired of being The Girl with the Green Texts, I switched. The iPhone isn’t a good smartphone. It’s not a humane smartphone.

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MORADI | For Happiness, Stop Romanticizing

A couple of weeks ago, I was gazing out at Washington, D.C. from the roof of my friend’s apartment. A few friends and I had spontaneously decided to venture up the many flights of stairs to watch the sun set over the Potomac, the light ever so slightly powdering Georgetown with a touch of rouge. We leaned precariously over the edge, our arms dangling down and the wind whipping our hair in our faces. The air was heavy with humidity. We smelled rain.

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MORADI | Fail Hard

It’s the paradox of writing, or the paradox of adolescence, or the paradox of social media or American east-coast elitist culture or something, I think. Your expressions should be sincere but not saccharine, naked so long as you don’t reveal your hedonism or deep (deep) fears or your interests that have crossed the threshold from quirky to strange. Append an all-lowercase “lol” to all your texts.

moradi 4-24

MORADI | Automation Nation

I am of the opinion that widespread automation in sectors traditionally thought to be “white collar” or non-automatable is coming faster than we’d expect, thanks to the buzziest buzzwords in computing, like machine/deep learning and big data. The robots are coming, rapidly and surely, and we need to be prepared. Automation means quick and concentrated unemployment but also the creation of massive amounts of capital. The talk of the town in Silicon Valley is that public policy needs to catch up to the tech sector by considering universal basic income in order to avoid Great Recession-era levels of unemployment. By “taxing the robots,” we can lift the burden from the working class and instead make long-term investments in education and healthcare that raise quality of life for all. Ultimately, we create more interesting and fulfilling roles for human beings.

MORADI 4-10

MORADI | Halfway House

The house on the highway had always been here longer than I had. Probably longer than I had been on Earth. It’s seen a hospital erected just across the street and a controversial Walmart built just down the freeway. The house has seen the roads expand so much that it could nibble on the highway asphalt. It’s old. Old, absurd and memorable.

moradi 3-20

MORADI | Phony in Farsi

I only recently turned around and noticed the contrast between myself and the Iran I was thrown against. Somehow, when I was younger my legs were longer, or the middle space between the two circles of the venn diagram was smaller, and I managed to barely stretch across the pervasive gap. Now, I struggle to engage intellectually and socially with Iran — the actual one, not my own construction — because I’m left grasping at language and culture from which I’ve fallen behind.

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MORADI | Tables of Zeus: A Discourse

I’m boycotting Klarman hall, or so I tell people angrily whenever people mention Klarman in conversation. I understand this statement is (A) ridiculous considering my presence at Klarman is effectively meaningless, and (B) barely even true because I refuse to miss cauliflower curry day. Alas, I’m supposedly boycotting Klarman. I have some sort of good reasons: The entire “I’m so, uhh weird … I’m interested in, uhh, art” aesthetic feels utterly disingenuous, and the fact that so many people are wearing the same glasses  is creepy.