The Expat Files

Hello?

2012-01-23T16:56:00.001-08:00

I miss this thing.

S.

Au Revoir & Bonne Chance

2011-09-21T12:53:00.000-07:00

I feel so...

I can't quite place my finger on it. I don't feel hopeless; actually, I feel the opposite. I've never had this much to look forward to in my entire life and here it is, resting at my heels just waiting for me to rise and claim it as my own.

My fate? My destiny? Who knows what it is.

I think I'm scared.

I haven't felt anything real for so long now, that I've lost any recollections of what it is like, being alive I mean. The fear that counters the joy, the horror that challenges the hope, the misery that swirls around happiness, like cream in your coffee, making it bearable and worthy... etc etc.

I've never had to say a meaningful goodbye, and yet here I am in Kuwait trying to pencil all of them in what was supposed to be my blank page, my fresh start. So, I'm scared and being a coward. I wish I were more capable of love, and less willing to hate. I try to see in myself what so brightly blinds me in others, but it never amounts to anything more than a fleeting glance. For three years, all I had my gaze on was leaving. The departure, the exit, the curtain crashing onto this dusty stage. Now that it has really come to an end, I find myself shocked. Surprised by the ending I'd predicted.

Creative differences is why we're splitting up. It's what I'm telling people anyways.

This is my last offering to you, Kuwait. For a while anyways; you all know how unpredictable I can be.

Wiping them away,

S.

PS - I'm writing this from Abu Dhabi's airport, which is a surprisingly dull place despite alcohol being sold here.

In-N-Out

2011-09-11T18:15:00.000-07:00

I don't have Microsoft Office on my Mac right now.

The geniuses at iCity formatted my Mac and didn't reinstall it with the update. I'm upset. I haven't caught a break all summer. Every single plan I made fell through, and here I was thinking getting this piece of shit laptop fixed would help me make up for lost time, but no. Nothing's changed; I'm as stranded as I was a week ago. It's almost 4 in the morning now, and I'm tired but I can't sleep. I stumbled upon Madonna's 'X-Static Process' a few days ago and so I've been listening to it on repeat for a while now. I'm not going to embed the video because no one reads this thing, and I highly doubt anyone who does actually watches the videos I feature. So, there's that. Honestly, I haven't been this stressed since senior year. Not stressed because I was pushing myself to succeed, but stressed because I was anticipating the shit storm my academic neglect would lead to. This is literally my last shot. If I don't make this happen, I going to find myself on the wrong side of twenty with nothing to show for the past two years.

In the midst of all my self-pity and drawn-out angst, I had a moment of clarity. A profound moment in which a I realized a truth I'd been pondering for a while now.

If I were a boy, it wouldn't be so much that I would have fewer problems than I do as a girl.

I'd simply have more escapes.

On that note, I bid you all a better night than what I'm having.

Goodnight.

Jesus Christ

2011-09-07T13:47:00.000-07:00

"How did it end up like this?"

This is the first post from my Mac, which finally found its way back into my arms after almost two months of not working. Chalk it up to a combination of laziness, unwilling drivers and sleep, but what matters is that I finally fixed it and while my bank account took a hit, things are a bit better now.

I'll be honest, the past two weeks have been nothing short of nerve-fraying. Between the end of Ramadan (don't even get me started on that), Eid (No, seriously, no comment on this either) and finishing up all the paperwork for my transfer, I'm just about done. I've grown tired of all the familiar voices, fuzzy faces and blah blah blah. You guys know how I usually go about complaining; using tired metaphors to express my rapidly decaying angst. You guys are smart, I'm sure you can do a better job than me at this point.

Since I lost everything on my Mac, I spent the day setting it up, customizing it and rebuilding my iTunes library. Now, after a very long day and even longer week, I'm find myself in bed. I'm tucked in, it's dark and I'm pounding away at this keyboard. I haven't done this since February, or March at the latest. I guess it's just amazing and frightening how much life has change in 12 short months. This time last year I was staving of anxiety attacks about KU. Emotionally and mentally, I was somewhere else entirely. I feel as though I've grown a lot, particularly in the last 6 months. That's the strange (even scary) thing; I'm reaching a stage where I have enough stability in my life to be able to look back at the past. I'm not entirely sure how to explain it, but I've just never spent three consecutive years living in the same continent, let alone the same tiny country. It's such a novel experience for me. I've begun to feel out of place among my friends. I have no reason to, and yet I do.

I wish I were leaving Kuwait for better reasons. I wish I didn't despise everything and everyone here. I'm a naive person in the sense I've always believed that no matter what you do, if the intent is good, then it's okay. So, leaving Kuwait and taking a big risk for all the wrong reasons is tainting what should be a joyous occasion for me. Does it make me a bad person? I don't know. Probably. Then I remember how many young women couldn't make it out of this cesspool and I feel even worse. Yes, I'm leaving for peace of mind but I'm also leaving to pursue a career that can help many in the future. Whether it's from the money I make, or the skills I acquire, I chose medical school because I feel as though I owe it to the universe. I'm in a social and financial position to pursue this career, and so I have. Studying English and maybe opening my own publishing house would have made me happy beyond words, but that would have been a selfish move on my part. I'm rambling, but I'm also emotionally drained, so forget eloquence. It just bothers me, the real reason I'm living. I feel like a failure because I couldn't make Kuwait "work" for me. I tried. I tried being open, and honest. I tried being kind and polite. Nothing worked. People here seem to be masochists. They enjoy being disrespected and treated like dirt.

Did I ever mention Jesus was my favorite prophet? Well, he is. I don't buy into any organized religion, but I've always felt he was the most approachable. Anyhow, I had both something else and more to say, but I'm sleepy now and so I'll bid you all a goodnight.

(Disregard how shitty my writing is right now.)

PS - This blog's email has been deleted, in case anyone sends anything. Step 1 of the goodbye.

Napkin Corners

2011-08-22T14:29:00.000-07:00

As that unmentionable time slowly claws its way towards us, the inevitable process of packing and reminiscing has kicked itself into high gear. I'll go ahead and apologize in advance; I'm not feeling all that inspired these days and so my words may fall flat. Not to say that you can't anchor them with your own thoughts and feelings, but my intellectual pool is rather shallow these days. I chalk it up to having far too many rooted-in-reality worries these days. I am, after all, moving to another country entirely. This forgiving limbo between now and then feel like some sort of bizarre suspension for disbelief. I've entered a dimmed movie theater, and for the next little while, I'll play along and pretend that dreams come true, happiness is within reach and maybe I can even be who I am without having to cower behind a cyber cloak of anonymity.

Packing this time around feels different. I'm not moving with my entire family; I'm leaving them behind. I find myself having to weigh my decisions.

Is this necessary?

Will I still want this when I come back?

Does it fit in any aspect of my life?

Will I ever wear this shade of lipstick?

Perhaps I'm high-maintenance or too girly for my own good, but the packing process for a woman seems a tad more complex than it does for the average male. A slave to vanity, but more because I'm self-conscious than vain, there are a lot of things that are simply more accessible in Kuwait than they are abroad. The bi-monthly trips to the salon, the manicures/pedicures, the thoughtless spending... I take this things for granted. In my defense, being of Middle Eastern descent means you have to be a bit more proactive about your personal appearance, but still. Being a woman, there are certain societal expectations I still choose to live up to.

So, as I pack, I try to imagine each item and whether it will serve a purpose in my this new life of mine. Is this the hairband that I'll wear to my first day of school? Will this foundation look good after a few hours a dimly lit movie theater with friends? Are these earrings chic or am I doing the 80s a disservice?

But it always goes back to the lipstick.

As a fairly chipper person, I use my mouth a lot. (Save the dirty puns.) I talk, I tell, I laugh, I gasp, I whisper... The list is endless. Hell, sometimes I even smile. While I'm partial to sunglasses, (because really; how else am I going to express myself at 19?) , they do obscure my eyes. That's why I always have my mouth to express how I feel inside. That last bit probably didn't make sense, but you were warned beforehand about the quality of these words.

Most of my self-expression in Kuwait has been done in silence, namely writing. Sure, sometimes I listen to music while I write and I'm never too far from my iPod, but the melody I cherish the most, that of my thoughts, is silence. It's pure and unfiltered. You can't cut it, and you can't scratch it. There won't be a remix to download and you won't hear an acoustic rendition of it anytime soon.

Why not? Well, because I haven't released this record.

You're probably wondering about everything you've read up until this point. That? That's been a compilation of song covers.

You'll probably find some of my thoughts scribbled on the corner of a napkin in some obnoxious coffee shop in Europe. Don't mind the lipstick stains, though.

It's my way marking my territory.

Zip It

2011-08-18T11:35:00.000-07:00

I'm leaving this all behind in under 4 weeks, and now I'm trying to figure out what to take and who to leave behind.

Packing used to be easier.

I just don't want to make a mess trying to make a clean break out of Kuwait, only to eventually come back here and deal with it all. I suppose I'll miss some of the people and things here. I know I'll miss blogging. I won't miss the stress and the resentment I feel. I hope the people I leave behind don't take it personally. I hope they forgive me. I mean, I always leave. That's the one constant. I've simply never had the option of coming back, so I'm not sure if I will.

Negativity aside, I'm slowly growing more excited. I'm eager to go back to my normalcy.

It's happening.

Anyhow, back to packing.

That's A Wrap

2011-08-11T04:54:00.000-07:00

"Now the time has come to leave you"

My best friend has left the country, but besides that I don't have all that much to say.

I'm rather sad.

Countdown

2011-08-06T15:07:00.000-07:00

"I know it's over still I cling, I don't know where else I can go, Over and over...
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head"

A very good song. Jeff covered it, as it was originally sung by The Smiths. I'm quite partial to sad songs these days. Probably my teen-angst kicking in a bit late... I miss blogging, but it seems as though I've run out f things to say. No more wisdom. No more thought. Just blank ideas.

A few more weeks left in Kuwait. Let's see how fast time flies this year. I feel as though I need to melt back into the world, re-educate myself. Hear some new ideas. Get inspired again. Focus. Strive. I guess it's time to update my software.

It'll soon be time to say goodbye, but not yet.

S.

Grey Scales

2011-07-26T06:19:00.000-07:00

It's been a dense few days; I wouldn't even know where to begin, to be honest.

As most of the world has heard, Amy Winehouse passed away a few days ago. The autopsy results have yet to be released, so we're better off not jumping to conclusions or passing judgement because it is what it is. Obviously, I didn't know Amy personally, but her passing has left a dark void in my life. I first stumbled upon Mark Ronson via some site aimed at young teen girls, and while enjoying his fresh sound, I stumbled upon Amy. 'Rehab' had just been released and was increasing in popularity. It filled the air every time a radio was turned on, and was often revisited on my iPod nano. That summer we moved, and I spent a lot of that next year in hospitals for a rather tame bout with cancer. It wasn't life threatening, but it still was a lot. It was a lot to hear, a lot to go through and even more to think about. As usual, I didn't have many close friends, so I ended up confiding in my math teacher at the time. I never intended to tell anyone about it, but the tears just came out pouring when she sternly asked about my absences. It's so strange how, in my head, I was fine. I was chill. Okay, I had cancer but it wasn't going to kill me. I wasn't going to need chemo. I wasn't going to lose my hair. No biggie.

I was so unbelievably wrong.

I ended up bursting into tear right before math class one Wednesday because I didn't know how to deal with what I was going through. I didn't know how to ask for help. Logically speaking, you won't ask for help when you can't even realize you need it. You'll keep going, coping with whatever mechanisms you choose, until one day it comes down crashing around you.

Then you will hit rock bottom. There is no avoiding this. You will find yourself down there, and it nothing more than a matter of time. Sometimes people will want to help you, other times, they won't. Whether they are scared themselves, or they couldn't see the signs, or maybe you put up too many walls... You'll be alone. Only you can help yourself out of it. Luckily, it doesn't take much. All you have to do is ask.

As a young woman growing up, I identified with a lot with Amy. If you set aside the root, pain is pain. She was in pain, it was very clear from her music. She created something beautiful out of it. I wasn't so crafty. I don't even know why I'm writing this piece. I know that had if I were to read something like this when I was out of it, it wouldn't have changed anything for me. I don't know know if it will change anything for you. No one can help you if you don't let them. It's as simple as that.

Reach out. I did, and it helped.

S.

Update Needed

2011-07-21T03:15:00.000-07:00

While I would never deny that I am a curious creature by nature, I like to think that I've done my best to not become a gossip. Granted, I've had my weak and childish moments, but as of late I've done my best to be a mature and respectful person. I've done and said things in the (relatively recent) past that were not only unnecessary, but also stupid. However, the time I have spent reflecting on these actions and trying to get to the root of why I did them lead me to several conclusions; the motives behind these actions were spurned by childish jealousy or feelings of inadequacy. Their only saving grace, my only saving grace, was that I never partook in such toxic behavior in an attempt to hurt someone. I simply didn't know how to better express myself. I hadn't mastered the art of constructive conversation.

There's that.

Then you come to this new healthy and happy phase in your life. You develop healthy relationships and the 'honeymoon' phase is wonderful. We have so much in common! We can relate to each other! We have the same taste in boys and Starbucks drinks!

WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON.

Then what?

Then you are hit with a wall of growing pains. You have to somehow figure out a way to keep the friendship alive, which is quite difficult if you don't have all that much history together. It's not in my nature to be all that curious about other people's live. Something about how only few care and most are just curious stunted any curiosity in regards to the lives of people around me. Sometimes it's misconstrued as not caring, which is frustrating. It's not that I don't care, it's just that if you wanted to tell me something, you would. Or at least I hope you would. I don't know.

It's minor details like this that, time and time again, slip between my fingertips. I suppose it can be chalked up to never having to deal with any long term relationship of any sort. While the frequent moves as a child were difficult, they did take out a lot of the guess work involved in relationships for me. The guess work and the hard work. Some people say that a relationship shouldn't be hardship or hard work. Well, that may have been true a few decades ago, but distance has become an increasingly present component thanks to our international lifestyles. Born in one place, raised in several, attend university "abroad", make friends in various vacation spots... There's a lot of fertile soil out there, and you'll set down some roots whether you want to or not. Sometimes you may even want to cultivate these relationships. Maybe they add something to you life, or bring you joy or I don't know.

I don't know.

It's just such a mess. Emotions are messy. Relationships are messy. You only have some much control, and the rest depends on the other party. I know most people think I over-think things, and while that's true, it's also how I function. I don't even know what I'm trying to communicate anymore.

Can you tell I'm out of my comfort zone?

Forever a hot mess,

S.

Under Pressure

2011-07-19T09:45:00.000-07:00

"It's these expressions I never give that keep me searching for a heart of gold"

I suppose I've mentioned before that it has become increasingly difficult for me to ~~blog~~ write. It's one of the reasons that I'm giving up blogging.

(I really do hate that term; it's so menial and common.)

It's a myriad of reasons really; people read what I write, people I know read what I write, I no longer exist in a bubble of isolated independence... The list goes on and on. However, that's neither why I'm here nor what I'm trying to talk about today.

The details.

Now that I'm at a point in my life where I am most definitely an adult, securely out of high school and what was a lackluster childhood, I find that it's quite the burden. While the privileges that come with age aren't as apparent, the burden most definitely are. You will be taken seriously for everything (even the not-so-serious bits), people will hold you accountable for what you say (expected although not always appreciated), and people will stop sheltering you. I can live with the former two, but it's the latter that has come as quite the shock to me. In some ways, it's part of the reason why I've grown to be so jaded and indifferent.

No one is going to teach you how to do things. Well, some will but those kind souls are few and far in between. The best you will come across is someone who is either where you are at right now, or someone who is where you once were. Sometimes they will let you help them out, give some guidance, a little advice gained not from wisdom but from experience. Most of the time, they won't. They won't want you to be a therapist, a counselor, a stylist, a spiritual guru or anything of the like. They won't want you to be any of those, and they won't let you.

They will just want you to be a friend. I don't know how to do that.

Liberating her senses,

Sway

2011-07-18T03:28:00.000-07:00

Reality Check: Most of the people that enter your life won't.

When I was a young child in Sweden, I remember that Sundays were relatively dull. In North America, Sundays were set aside for Christians, and so most of the shops and libraries would be closed. While things were similar in Sweden, the truth is that save for a few holidays, the Swedes just aren't all that religious. I'm going off on a tangent here, but what I mean to say is that Sunday was the day most people would do laundry and nurse their red wine hangovers. It was a quiet and calm, if not a bit depressing, day.

After I'd read all I could read, finished all my homework and played outside, I would watch these amazing television shows that would air specifically on Sundays. As a child growing up in the late Nineties and early 2000s, I was fairly sheltered. The resources I had access to was vast thanks to libraries, but it wasn't immediate and in-your-face. However, I digress; back to the topic at hand. Now, these shows were so much fun to watch. Everyone featured was energetic, attractive and full of life. They were amusing, and endearing. The commitment they showed their craft was truly inspiring. I would be entertained for hours on end, and Sunday would slip by unnoticed, leaving room for another exciting week of school and life to take it's place.

Fast forward a few years, and in set cultural preconceptions, the bitter truth and the Internet.

What did I discover?

Those shows that held me captive every Sunday morning and made me laugh and smile were nothing more than cheesy and insincere infomercials. The people featured in them weren't happy; they were tacky and ridiculous. The products were bizarre, the deals a rip-off and the hosts and guests paid actors.

This is what growing up does to you. It strips away the magic and wonder from everything, forcing you to see the world for what it is: a disgusting and cruel place. The harder you try, the more you realize there's no point in trying. There's simply no winning. Everyone opposes you, and those who don't often remain silent, which is just as bad (if not worse) than the former. You put all this (imaginary?) pressure on yourself trying to be a better person, trying to convince those around you to do the same and yet it's a futile effort. A lost war, if you will. The apathetic remain that way, the ignorant loud, and the masses misinformed. You quickly realize you're wasting your life trying to make the world a better place, if only in the tiniest way possible, but you can't even do that. You wake up one day and realize that you have been alive, without living. You give up, and move on.

That, ladies and gentleman, is how you grow to be jaded.

On Y Vas!

2011-07-17T05:06:00.000-07:00

I've been literally brimming with words and phrases, and for some reason, my thoughts refuse to boil over. I like the title I came up with for this piece, but that's about as focused as I've been able to be. It's tortuous. I've never been like this; inspired but inhibited.

It's rather strange. Well, not really, I suppose. Before I began blogging, this is how I would be all the time. Inspired and in awe, but always internally. I would feel the magic, take in all the wonder and glow with the wonder of the world around. As I grew older, I guess the wonder began to fade and I grew tired of withholding all that magic. So I did what any gypsy would do, and I enthralled anyone who gave me the chance to do so.

I've had a good run, I really have.

I've enjoyed writing for you, for myself and writing for the sake of writing. I've lavished in the (moderate) amount of admiration, pondered upon the criticism and been humbled by both. However, I'm drained. Really, I am. I've been anonymously public for so long now that I feel a bit spent. I think it's around time I went back to being publicly private again. It's going to be difficult. Despite the fact I've decided to permanently stop blogging once I leave Kuwait, I still find myself snapping pictures of ridiculous things I see, thinking 'Oh! For the blog." It is going to take some time and conscience effort to rid myself of that mindset, but with time, as they say.

Counting down the days,

S.

Cotton Mouth

2011-07-14T04:13:00.000-07:00

"Heaven help me for the way I am..."

I've found myself going through a very strange spiritual awakening of sorts. Well, that's not necessarily the most accurate way to define it but beggars can't be choosers and my metaphors have been lacking these days. Lack of originaltiy aside, I do find that my existence has been drowning in several things; energy, creativity, thoughts, and so on and so forth.

After suffering through almost 4 months of writer's block, I suppose this influx was expected. While I am enjoying it, I'm also irritated by it. Accepting this reality leads to several realizations; the flimsy nature of my mood, the fact I may never run out of something to ~~declare~~ say, and my infamous ability to be "too much". Of all the various things I dislike about myself, that would have to the top choice. There's an old saying that goes, "Complete abstinence is often simpler than moderation", and my life is (at times) something of a tribute to that adage. Perhaps it's my astrological sign, my love for theatricality, suffering from middle child syndrome depsite being the oldest... Who knows why I am the way I am?

(Okay, well I do, but I'm not going to share that here. Hi, Mom.)

This piece lacks any purpose or message, but I needed a way to get rid of some of this "creativity". So yes, I'm very dramatic and over-the-top. It's part of the reason why I'm always hesitant when it comes to relationships of any sort because I have yet to figure out a way to moderate my magic. Let the record show, that I'm my own worst critic so I suppose I'm not as suffocating as I portray myself to be, or at least not anymore.

The plus side? I have a career in theater should this whole medical school thing not work out.

Breaking down the fourth wall,

S.

PS - What is your least favorite attribute about yourself?
PPS - I just realized I enjoy writing about this topic, so I may discuss it a bit more.

Le Téléphone Arabe

2011-07-08T14:35:00.000-07:00

Excellent song. They just don't make music like this anymore.

Sometimes, I wish we could pass along what we have in life when we no longer want it. If we grow tired of life, we can give our remaining years to someone who truly wants to be here. Someone who has children or loved ones that they want to stick around for. It's like that old saying, "Youth is wasted on the young", in the sense that I've found myself at a point where I no longer want or need anything. Life in Kuwait is what it is, and any change that would make me happy is decades away. Who's to say I'll still want it when that time rolls around? As selfish and as ungrateful as it sounds, I'm pretty much over everything. I've given and done my best, with very little satisfying return. I don't half-ass anything, and I'm no longer interested in living half a life.

I'm going to keep through the motions for the remainder of this summer, but I've decided that I've had my fill of Kuwait. I don't think I'll be blogging after I jet off, and the same goes for all my other social-media platforms. I was never interested in them back home, but it was a lack intellectual sophistication in Kuwait that drove me to pursue things like Blogger and Twitter. Using them, I've discovered that there are many amazing people out there, and I suppose I can now take comfort in the fact that I'm "not alone".

I started this blog to document my freshman year in KU, and to weigh in on all things Kuwait and I did just that. I don't think I caused as many waves as I wanted, but if one person read anything I wrote here and reconsidered any of the various topics I've covered, then I guess it was worth it. I tried with Kuwait, I really tried. As they say, I'm done.

Let's enjoy the remainder of our time together. Let me know if there's any particular topic or promised post you guys want to read and I'll do my best to put something together.

Letting it all go,

S.

PS - I have a second "Snap Snap" post in the works.

PPS - The title of this post is the French name for a game called Chinese Whispers. The game reminds me a lot of how Kuwaiti society functions.

White Witch

2011-07-07T00:22:00.000-07:00

Say what you will, this classic stands the test of time.

There are two type of people in this world. Those will will use all the ice in the freezer without a second thought to other other people in the house, and those who will use it and then promptly refill the icetray.

Which category do you fall under?

Shaking in her boots,

S.

Sin + Mmms

2011-07-01T15:08:00.000-07:00

How do I do it? I don't know, but you can ALWAYS add a bit of Gaga if you try.

Not to sound ungrateful or stuck up, but I rarely ever receive gifts that I like. Not to say that I don't appreciate and cherish the things my friends and family pick out for me, but it's just that generally miss the mark. Sure, earrings or a necklace would make any girl happy, but only if they truly appeal to your aesthetic. Granted, I'm still figuring out my aesthetic but I've made enough progress to know what I don't like and most of the gifts I receive fall under that category.

One recurring theme with these tokens of appreciation has been hearts. Not in the literal sense, though. That would just be creepy. Anyways, whether it's stationary, jewellery, or thematic makeup the concept surrounding these gifts has consistently been cardiac related. At first, I thought it just meant that it should only make sense the people closest to me wouldn't realize that the last thing I'd want is heart-shaped stud earring if I wasn't being my true self around them. In an effort to try and represent myself as someone I'd find interesting, as opposed to as someone who reflected the things she found to be interesting, I had left the masses misinformed.

Now that we have the lengthy and sloppy explanation of this piece out of the way, let me share how I've manipulated (understood?) this recurring theme into something I can mold for my benefit. What I'm saying is that I think life is meaningless, but it doesn't mean that I don't still try to give it some meaning from time to time.

There I go being clever again.

These people I love, despite never having the chance to see the real me, time and time again, give me their hearts. Or, at least sizable pieces of them. They don't realize and I don't always know it, but its true. Disregard the material aspect of gift-giving; any time you reach out to someone else by extending a part of yourself, something that says "Hey, I thought about you" you realize what a truly beautiful and mystifying thing thing love really is.

(I still don't want any of it though.)

Buffing those pearls,

Celebrations

2011-07-01T06:05:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday.

Sparks

2011-06-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

Our song, Kuwait.

"Curiosity is the lust of the mind." - Thomas Hobbes

Like the first world cliché that I am, I've been wallowing in self-pity and despair for quite some time now. I want to say it's a a recent development, but the truth is I've been drowning in this current state of emotional bullshit since about past November. I hadn't noticed it as it began to take root because I spent inordinate amounts of time ensuring I had my hands full; writing for this blog, researching things about Kuwait, consuming KU in all it's cannibalistic glory. What's funny is that I never intended for this blog to be personal in any sense of the word. My original intent was to use it as a creative platform on which I could (objectively) document my year at KU through funny posts, satirical essays and the odd compilation of photos.

Time has (once again) proven that the joke's on me.

After initially signing up for a couple of summer courses at KU, I spent a week trekking back and forth to the campus only to realize that my time there had come to an end. Where I once felt at ease and completely liberated, I found myself fighting off anxiety attacks and swallowing far too many urges to scream. If nothing else, these past few years in Kuwait have taught me to recognize when I'm not wanted. The love affair with KU, however satisfying, had come to an unapologetic end. While I attempted to look the other way and just keep going through the motions, a very integral part of realized that two semesters was all I would get and give to Kuwait University. There was no charm in this third attempt at magic.

Magic... What a captivating notion.

It manifests itself in a myriad of ways. Precious circles pulled out from behind tiny ears, queens and kings manipulated for our gain, doves freed from the most obscure emptiness are all examples of where our thoughts rush to when magic is brought up. We often fail to recognize its manifestation in the details. In our want to be overwhelmed and left gasping in awe, we give away our wonder to the most menial of things, thinking it doesn't get any better than this. Sitting here, I'm slowly accepting that it probably won't. My inexplicable sadness is rooted in the realization that things weren't always this way.

A long time ago, I once felt and saw magic in so many things. One area which, in hindsight, always leaves my mouth slightly open in wonder is how any relationship developed. As has been stressed upon frequently enough, I moved around a lot as a child. Realizing that this pattern would be my life (or at least a sizable part of it) I made it my mission to savor and learn as much as I possibly could from any and every person that entered my life. Mind you, this was before the dawn and eventual take-over of social networking sites, so when it was time for me to move on and leave behind these new people in the past, they stayed there. It wasn't so much a choice as it was due to a lack of options.

Now, I have options and I have no idea what to do. Do I continue trying to find balance and work at maintaining frienships or do I just do what I always do and pack up, leave town and start over? I don't want to, but then again I have been doing this all my life. Anything other than this would be too different. It would propel me out of my safety zone. I don't want to spend difficult moments and lonely nights abroad taking comfort in the fact I have people "back home". I don't know when Kuwait became home. I don't want it to be home. I don't want my peace of mind to depend on other people, if only in the tiniest sense.

Did I mention I'm moving to Ireland in about six weeks?

I probably didn't, did I? You'll have to forgive me, as I've spent copious amounts of time doing the one thing I vowed to never do: I've been looking back on my life these past 12 months and regretting more than I ever thought I would. Perhaps if I had remained out of reach things would be easier for me now. Perhaps if I had just remained content with wondering, as opposed to experiencing, I would still have that lusty mind of mine as a safe-haven. But, my mortality was solidified by the fact my curiosity got the best of me.

I wanted, and so I got and now I have. What do I do with all of it?

Dying to repent,

S.

PS - What's up?

Verity

2011-06-28T12:24:00.000-07:00

The quality of my life would improve if more people dressed like hookers from the Eighties.

In my defense, it has been a busy month.

I know, I know, I know. I promised (like I always do) several posts about all things to do with June: Summer, Pride month, transitions and an update on my life but... Well, I've been busy living that life. Not to say that since I've somehow managed to fall ass backwards into a life, that I've forgotten about you guys... Because I haven't.

Really.

(Side note: Does anyone still read this thing?)

Melodrama and my latent teen-angst aside, let's all take our eyes off my impeccably phrased, albeit half-assed, excuses and cast a quick glance at the title of this post.

No, folks it's not just another one of those obscure words I toss your way in an effort to come across as wiser and wittier than I actually am. It's an old word to for a very new aspect of my life. "Verity" is a synonym for "Truth". (Find a less hormonal explanation/definition here.)

As we all know, June is International Pride Month. What are we celebrating? We are celebrating ourselves. We are celebrating our family, our friends, our lovers, our soul-mates... We are rejoicing in liberty; personal, physical and emotional.

Sadly, we do so quietly in Kuwait. However, for the sake of beautiful news like gay marriage being legalized in New York only a few glorious days ago and the fight against DADT still being fought, we must not focus on the negative. We'll look to the positive and strive for more of that good stuff. Deal? Deal. (Can I just say I love it when you guys agree with me? I do. I really, really do.)

Kuwait is one of those countries where there will be a lot of shame and stigma surrounding you (and your family/loved ones) if you fail to fit into a very narrow mold. Try to spread your wings beyond a cetain set of criteria and you'll have guns aimed at you like it's hunting season and neon is the new black. Things aren't hopeless though; it just takes things longer in some parts of the world. Religion and politics aside, gay rights are human rights. Whether you agree with this or not is entirely up to you. However, ask yourself this question: What makes you so much better than someone who is gay? What gives you an entitlement to more rights, more freedom to express yourself and more liberty?

Exactly.

You don't have to condone, celebrate or promote something you don't "believe in", but you shouldn't condone, celebrate or promote hatred towards anyone or anything either. My strict (but always loving) Scottish God Mother raised me with several old-school sayings, and the one that I still carry around with me is the following:

"If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."

It's that simple.

Dipping her fingers into your true colors,
S.
PS - Gay marriage has been legal in Canada since 2005... Just saying. PPS - Congrats to Beyonce on the release of her album today. It's an excellent piece of work. PPPS - This one was for you.

Stay Tuned

2011-06-25T07:17:00.000-07:00

I've been tripping a lot lately.

Top Hats

2011-06-14T06:56:00.000-07:00

To Women As Far As I'm Concerned

D.H. Lawrence

The feelings I don't have I don't have.
The feeling I don't have, I won't say I have.
The feelings you say you have, you don't have.
The feelings you would like us both to have, we neither of us have.
The feelings people ought to have, they never have.
If people say they've got feelings, you may be pretty sure they haven't got them.
So if you want either of us to feel anything at all
You'd better abandon all ideas of feelings altogether.

This poem is one of my favorites. I decided to share it because, quite frankly, you guys are exposed to enough music and Tumblr-esque photos. Why not allow words to ignite images or set off concerts in your mind? (You're welcome, guys.)

One of the nice things about going through this journey that is life alone is that for a very long time I did not have to answer to anyone. I never had to censor (or even modify) any of my opinions so that I could avoid offending anyone I cared about. I never worried about alienating anyone and ending up on my own because I already was very much alone. Moving, my personality, the general public's lack of intellect were all factors that contributed to this era of my life being spent solo. I didn't mind it, and for better or worse, I enjoyed that freedom. It gave me all the time I needed to craft who I am today. I read books, introduced myself to ideas, slowly began forming opinions... All these event occurred completely unchallenged. The only time a thought or notion would be rejected was if I didn't like it, or more accurately, if its presence in my life (or mind) would interfere with the "image" I wanted to eventually project to the world.

Now... things are different.

Now, I have friends. I have people I love, people I admire, people I hate, people whose funeral I hope to attend, people who I can't go a day without speaking to... You get the picture? Good. (See? I knew encouraging your minds to grow through poetry would pay off.)

However, I digress.

To make a long (and unnecessarily sappy) story short, I let people into my life. I now have to figure out a way to honor my relationships with them all while staying true to who I am.

This blog is a result of my inability to do just that with family and school friends. I'm assuming you can see the dilemma now. What's even more frustrating is that I know people read what I write here and wonder about where it all came from. Why can't I just say these things to them? Well, I never prepared myself for any of this. I assumed I was going to continue to be isolated in this hermeneutic cul-de-sac I had made for myself all those years ago. I don't think I can have other people in here and still be who I am.

I need to find a way to make sure everyone I love is okay, and then I ~~want~~ need to disappear.

I need magic.

Giving you a penny,

S.

PS - What do you do when you realize you don't like who you are, but you decide to keep her around anyways?

Wear It Well

2011-06-10T10:18:00.000-07:00

Gay cupcakes. If this doesn't make sense you, Kuwait, I don't know what will.

Lady Gaga chants - "A king with no crown, king with no crown..."

Nicki Minaj spits - "In this very moment I'm king..."

Beyonce... well, she did this:

June is Pride Month. Here's me kicking it off a few days late, but still! Yes, I know it's based in the US but if we follow their lead in everything from fashion to food, then why not this as well?

Exactly, Kuwait.

Also, the royal theme in today's popular music has been showcased by yours truly to encourage you to challenge gender stereotypes. Although, I want you to always challenge stereotypes, be they gender-oriented or otherwise.

Whether it's for yourself or for someone you love, just keep fighting. I know I always will.

Embracing you all,

PS - I'll obviously be doing a few posts of actual substance in regards to this matter. Watch out for them in the near future.

PPS - I've recently discovered that I'm a terrible hugger. Despite this fact, I still embrace you all.

PPPS - Because I know I'm going to get a flood of emails about this... No, I'm not gay myself. I'm just a kick-ass hag/human rights supporter.

Dynamite

2011-06-10T05:38:00.000-07:00

This one is for the boys in polos... Just kidding! (I hate those douche-bags.)

"Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away
Beating like a drum and it's coming your way
Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, bass
He got that super bass"

Drummers are so badass.

Rhythm & Blues

2011-06-09T05:53:00.000-07:00

You go through life realizing that for better or worse, you're different. You learn to embrace it because it's what seems to attract people to you. You hone the stage production that is you into a spectacular Broadway production. You get fame, attention, praise, criticism, negative reviews, a lag in ticket sales...

You take your show to the streets. You let your performance art roam the alleyways and avenues (NOT the mall). You're an artist. Scratch that, you're the artist. Not confined to any particular form of expression, you settle down. You think you've found peace. Your world is calm and quiet. To remind yourself of who you are, you go back to marching to the beat of your own drum.

You miss a beat. You realize you're not the artist. You're the drum.

You're just the empty drum.

Rinsing echoes out of her mouth,

Concepts & Rules

2011-06-03T05:52:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, you just have to revamp what you already have. This cover is a personal favorite, enjoy!

(It's been a while since I've tuned out the rest of the world and sat down to write, so I'll ask that you bear with. I'm not entirely sure what we'll get out of this post, but it should be fun nonetheless.)

We should get all caught up, right? Let's see... Well, as you can tell I haven't been writing (I really dislike the term blogging) steadily since February. The reasons for this are colorful and varied, but don't worry because I've had a magnificent few months since we last were in touch. What I'm trying to say that, for the most part, I'm doing well and I hope you are all happy and healthy. If you guys are good, I'm good.

Next on the agenda: this domain.

After some pesky family members decided to hunt down my SUPER SECRET blog domain, this thing kind of lost some its luster. While I could care less if anyone from my "real life" reads what I write here, I just really enjoyed the fact I never had to think twice about saying anything here. Here, I don't represent a last name or a family or a religion or even a sect. On my blog, I'm simply me... or at least I was. However, after my initial juvenile rage subsided, I realized that a good deal of my readers know who I am, and my relatives/real life-ers lack the intellectual sophistication to fully grasp what it is I try to say here, so it's all good.

I would move, and I have tried several times, but it seems as though I've grown rather attached to both this domain and the lovely readers who frequent it. Intellectually, and even sometimes emotionally, this has become something of a home for me. Like a childhood home, I skim through my older posts and realize just how much I've grown here. We've (you, the readers, and I) have had some highs and lows, had some laughs and some serious discussions. For those reasons, I can't seem to bring myself to give it up. Add that to the fact I now have TEN people following this blog (Do you know how hard it is to get an audience when you're NOT blogging about brownies and expos?), so it seems we'll be celebrating our one year blog birthday here and soon!

That's all the boring and official stuff out of the way, so I think I'll take a self-indulgent trip down memory lane for you guys.

A couple of nights ago, I found myself at the graduation ceremony for my old high school. I had kindly been invited by a dear friend, and I would have been a fool to say. The girls looked beautiful, the ceremony was (surprisingly) light and it was an enjoyable night overall. I must say, I enjoyed the graduation much more from the audience's vantage point. This time last year, I was a miserable mess. If it hadn't been for the insistence of one particular friend, I wouldn't have gone to my own graduation. Looking back, I'm glad she insisted I show up. Yes, it was horrible and I hated every minute of it, but at least I went. Sure, I could have stayed home and felt bad for myself, but that would have been too easy. Someday in the future, I will be able to tell my cats about how uncomfortable I was during those two hours, and how I felt it was like some sort of reverse celebration of my acheivments. How I felt like my entire fail of a senior year culminated into that one night, with all those pretty lights dangling from the ceiling meant to show me just how little of my potential I had achieved.

I felt horrible for a very long time after that night last year, but you know what I did? I got up, wiped my tears off my face and turned my life around. Here I am exactly one year later, a completely different person with a completely different outlook on life. It's definitely safe to say that this past year has seen me grow up. I'm a different (not necessarily) better person, but that's just how life goes.

Speaking of life, I should wrap up this post before we run out of ours. Apologies for the long-winded comeback post, but I've suffered at the hand of my writer's block for so long, and I've had so much to say, so you can only imagine how happy I am to be back. I have so many projects planned for the blog, I'm really excited to share them with you!

Okay, I'll stop typing.

Pasting together the past,

Moving

2011-05-26T13:36:00.000-07:00

I think I'm almost over this case of writer's block.

Also, life has been very... full lately, so I do have some updates for you guys. However, things are going to change.

While I'll always cherish this domain for everything it has given me, from comments to friendships, I've lost the main reason I loved it so: I'm not as anonymous as I once was.

As you can see, my writing is still atrocious so I'll wrap it up and leave you guys with this:

I'm moving the blog to a more anonymous domain. Please feel free to leave your email in the comments section below or drop me a note at theexpatess@hotmail.com and I'll update your inbox with the new details.

I'll check back in a few weeks and hopefully get back to writing for you guys soon enough.

Calling it quits,

S.

White Towels

2011-04-30T05:59:00.000-07:00

This song pretty much sums it all up.

(I'm officially taking leave.)

S.

Crowning

2011-04-28T11:13:00.000-07:00

"What happened here..."

(No, it's not a question, so I won't punctuate it as such.)

Generally, when I write, I'll set the mood with some music, a thought or an idea. Lately, for some reason or other, nothing has been speaking to me.

My heart is literally breaking with the burden of all these words my mind refuses to release. It's like someone ripped my live, beating heart out of my chest, placed it in my throat and filled my cardiac void with... lead or something. (I'm at a point where I can't even construct an extended metaphor.)

See, how it would work in the past is that I would just be going about my life, doing things. Nothing special. Every now and then, this voice would speak to me. (I'm not crazy, I promise.) It would tell me things, I mull them over, and ta-da! We'd have writing. We'd have humor, wit, sarcasm, thoughtful arguments and the occasional myopic misunderstanding. We'd have a birth of creativity. Together, we would create such fun little packages of words. (What the hell? I don't even know what I just said.)

Not anymore, though. I can't even come up with any decent bullshit.

That got me thinking... What gives? Why now, when I'm finally an adult, financially independent, physically okay and emotionally stable would this choose to happen? I don't know.

Fuck this shit.

I'm over this. Actually, I've been over this for a good month now. Nothing is changing and this situation won't fix itself. I need a (new) muse... Maybe. I don't even know.

Blah, blah, blah.

PS - How have you been?

Jack-El-Ass (Only Arabic Readers Will Get This)

2011-04-26T12:33:00.000-07:00

**I apologize in advance, I know my writing is horrible these days, but just bear with.**

As you all know, I've been in the midst of a bout of writer's block mixed in with a touch of melancholy. I'm either upset, bored or stressed. There's no middle ground, not these days. However, this is isn't going to be another piece that sees me complain about my life when I have far too much to be grateful for... So, we shall move on. Okay? Okay.

After I wrapped up what was another pleasant-enough day at KU, I headed off to one of the buildings while I waite for my driver to show up. I don't remember why I was walking in that general direction, but I think I'm dehydrated right now, so I'm sure my reason at the time was valid. Whatever.

I walk into the building and I see the following:

SCIENCE GOT TALENT!

No, I did not stage this.

I was rather impressed with this booth.

I honestly don't know what they were selling here.

I Instagram-ed this bad boy. Photoshop who?

Business card picked up at the fair, dropped off in grass. #InstagramFTW

As you can see, the Faculty of Science at KU had organized a little fair for this fine Tuesday. The theme was all about showing off local talent.

What's the first thing I do? Take pictures and make fun of it on Twitter.

Had I actually taken a moment and actually opened my eyes, I would have seen what a great job these guys did organizing this event. Here was this beautiful, well done and interesting expo and all I could think of was witty (read: stupid) one-liners.

I have become a bigot.

I don't even know what to say. I've never pretended to be perfect, but for a while there I thought that I had some good values and sound principles. Man, was I in denial.

Anyways, I just wanted to share these pictures and show you that KU can surprise you every now and then.

Oh, and the last typewriter manufacturer closed shop today.

PS - Writing this was painful. My writer's block seems like it's here to stay.

PPS - Suck it Handasa... Science owned your asses with this expo.

Foundations

2011-04-24T09:08:00.000-07:00

"I wouldn't call them dreams, because that's not what they are."

The above quote is the first sentence of a post that I attempted to write yesterday.

That's been happening a lot lately. I'll been wandering the depths of my own mind, only to stumble upon an intriguing thought. I'll try to grab at it, trying to hold onto it, knowing there's something there... but I fail.

I thought about writing a piece detailing my recent inability to write, but I can't even do that.

I'm losing my only talent.

S.

Slice & Dice

2011-04-19T16:56:00.000-07:00

"Playwriting gets into your blood and you can't stop it. At least not until the producers or the public tell you to." - T. S. Eliot

Change playwriting to bitching and suddenly, we're all going through déjà vu.

Right now, I will be honest... I'm slightly embarrassed by my recent behavior on this thing. I've accepted the fact that a few weeks ago, I was in dire need of a reality check. Self-imposed pressure, faltering dreams and self-indulgent moodiness can leave even the most lucid of us disillusioned. Despite what I like to think, it turns out I'm only human.

Outraged with how Kuwait wasn't morphing into Canada, I grew to be bitter and angry. It happened over a very long period of time, so benignly and at such a slow pace that I didn't even realize I was rotting from the inside with resentment and regret. Each time I looked back on my old life, I saw nothing but missed opportunities and chances I didn't take. Rage blinded me to all the smiles I managed to put on people's faces, the laughter that drowned out teachers and all the tears that were hot enough to melt away the 10 months of winter we enjoyed back home. What I'm trying to say is that I faltered by lashing out, but you guys were there to shake some sense back into me. For that, I'll forever be grateful.

The past was good, even better than I remember it to be, but it's the past now. I've made my peace with that fact.

As for you, Kuwait? Well, I'm not very good with apologies, so that's all you're getting out of me.

No, seriously. I'm not one for eating my words, so the last couple of posts still stand.

In the meantime, I want you to know that there's something I'm trying to say, but I can't figure out how to phrase it. I'm telling you all this because it's 2:50 in the morning and I can't come up with a smooth transition for the second half of this piece.

However, I digress...

I'm not entirely sure what it is I'm trying communicate. Not to say that it doesn't exist, because it does. The inevitability of sending this thought out into the world is casting shadows all around me, telling me it's there. I'm not really going to listen to it just yet, but at some point or other light will be found and blogs will be updated.

Speaking of blogs and updates, you've surely noticed that my ~~baby~~ blog has undergone a change of sorts. I've changed the domain name and mission statement. I was rapidly approaching my one year anniversary as "The Expatess" when I realized that's not who I am anymore... So I killed her.

(Look closely; that's her blood behind these words.)

It was quick and painless, but necessary. Her hatred, ignorance and bigotry weren't going anywhere so I took her the a vacant lot in my mind and did away with all that nonsense.

A slightly extreme response, but it was long overdue. Once upon a time, I was she, and she was I. The latter gave way to me realizing that the former no longer stands as truth. I no longer live in this country as an expatriate among my own people, among Kuwaitis. I think it's safe to say I've set roots down in this desert. That said, I don't know how long this ecologically influenced performance art piece will last, but some intrinsic part of me suggests that I'll be around long enough for my lovely readers to see my leaves change color.

Oh, and just in case you've forgotten...

I love you.

PS - I was actually listening to this while I wrote this long-winded piece. Sue me.

ICU

2011-04-18T06:27:00.000-07:00

Kuwait?

I think we need to start over.

S.

So...

2011-04-11T05:03:00.000-07:00

I started this blog back in July for a myriad of reasons, but mainly to document my life in KU. Somewhere along the line, it became a tribute to my miserable existence in Kuwait. I avoided turning it into that for a long time, but it is what it is.

People (Kuwaitis in particular?) seem to forget that before coming to this country, I had a whole other life. Take a moment and steal a glance at my banner.

It says "Born American. Raised Canadian".

I had plans. I was going to go to law school, work my way up the corporate ladder, become partner in some high profile agency by the time I was 30 and then enter the Canadian political scene. I was going to buy a cottage in Peggy's Cove and raise my children in Halifax. I never thought we were going to move to Kuwait. So excuse me if I'm bitter and angry, when every plan I ever had for myself was burnt to ash infront of my very own eyes.

I wasn't supposed to be stuck in the Biology department in KU because neither the university nor the Ministry of Higher Education can calculate a Canadian GPA.

So before you tell me to suck it up, please remember that you don't know me. No one in Kuwait has known me longer than 2 and a half years. Not my best friends, not my loyal blog readers, not even my parents.

So while I feel like I should apologize for my recent tone, I won't. Try having all your dreams taken away from you, then come talk to me.

Oh wait... I forgot we're in Kuwait, the land were no one has any dreams or hopes, just multiple smartphones.

Peace out.

Good God

2011-04-10T13:52:00.000-07:00

Here's the deal: I've hit a dead end.

I walk and talk and chit and chat. I'll read about Communism, go to bed, I get up in the morning. I paint my face, pick out a few accessories. Figure out what pair of shoes to spend the rest of my day wincing through. I sit in class, humor professors. I ignore classmates, shoot dirty looks and avoid eye contact with anything that is not the brainchild of Steve Jobs.

In short? I'm existing. Nothing more, nothing less.

Honestly, I have no business complaining about my life. I have a roof over my head, pretty things to amuse my inner Kuwaitiya, parents who are alive and healthy (if not always available), and access to an education, however mediocre it may be.

I pay several hundred Kuwait Dinars a year to ensure I move around enough (gym), spent inordinate amounts of time making sure I'm not eating too much (diet). I get up in the middle of the night to adjust the temperature of my room. I wear a sleeping mask once the sun rises, because it's too bright and I can indulge and sleep in far after it has shattered the past.

My own privilege has numbed me right up. I feel nothing.

Also, the lack of any real struggle in Kuwait has helped in that respect. Not to say that there aren't people in Kuwait who struggle financially (for sure personally), but the majority live comfortable lives. They don't really understand what it means to struggle... with anything. They don't push themselves. They just sit back and let all of Kuwait's security wash over them. They just sit there and soak in all their dissatisfaction, mediocrity and lack of ambition.

Well, either that or they start selling cupcakes.

(Apologies for the disgustingly long winded tangent. I was going somewhere with this post).

Ah, yes.

On the drive home from the gym today, I saw a huge neon sign somewhere near some highway. The word? Allah (in Arabic though). For a split second, the only image that came to mind was that of Las Vegas.

Sin City. The Devil's Playground. Basically where good people go to do bad things.

The two represent such different ends of the spectrum of choice that is life, but here they were being sold off in the same manner. Big, bright, bold and in your face. Perched atop a building, that neon reminder of some unconfirmed deity just glares at us. It doesn't comfort. It doesn't confirm. It's just condescending.

I want to get out of KU. I want to move the hell out of Kuwait, and not return for a healthy three years. I want to grow up. I want to leave. I want a fresh start.

I had so many of those growing up; we'd move every 12-18 months. Now? Nothing. I've been stagnant for two and a half years.

In short? I'm just angry.

PS - I'm working through a horrid bout of writer's block, so bear with.

PPS - Fahad, you rock.

Nothing

2011-04-09T09:39:00.000-07:00

I don't know what this is, but I have lost all and any lust for life.

S.

Fibers

2011-04-02T16:18:00.000-07:00

It's almost two in the morning right now, and I'm sitting on the floor of my new bedroom, cross-legged with my Mac in my lap. Beside me, I have the following:

A mini white-board
A biology textbook
My iPhone
Various boxes and suitcases

I went to bed a few hours ago, but woke up to get myself a drink of water and decided that since I'm up, I might as well do a bit of review before I doze off. Who are we kidding?

I'm going to blog.

I don't really have much to say. What I initially mistook for some inner sense of peace, some much needed calm, turned out to be something else entirely. Rather than peace, I think I've stumbled upon defeat. As it stands, I have no idea what my future holds. No, this isn't one of those exciting "look-at-all-the-opportunities-that-may-lie-ahead" kind of chaos; it's much, much worse.

I don't know where I'm going to end up. People ask, and I'll confuse them with some cryptic answer involving the Ministry of Higher Education's fuckery, Canadian paperwork and KU but the truth is... maybe I don't want to get my transfer? I've been thinking about this a lot lately. It's no secret that I have little to no sincere desire to pursue medicine. Listening to myself justify this odd career choice to my friends, and you'd almost think I'm trying to convince myself of something.

I dislike science. I hate math. No matter what I do or say, I'll never become half the doctor my father is. I highly doubt I will even graduate from medical school (not a "real" one anyways), if I make it in to one. I can't not at least try, because then I' shall be doing nothing more than proving the naysayers right. My parents will say, "Oh, you're not medschool material anyways." I'll be furious and want to prove everyone wrong, but I can't. I can't right a wrong with another wrong.

I don't even know if I'm good enough to excel at what I want to do (something with English, politics and publishing). So, a crippling fear of failure and a lack of academic confidence seem to have me forever bound to this stupid track. My hands are tied.

Sleepy, depressed, and staving off anxiety attacks.

Wrecking the train,

PS - I'm really sleepy.

Because I Have To

2011-03-28T12:59:00.000-07:00

Who else can make reading philosophy sexy? (To be fair, I already think reading & philosophy are very sexy).

Happy Birthday Lady Gaga!

Whispers

2011-03-27T11:26:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, I had a life in Canada and this song was popular. I miss being ~~naive~~ young.

As it stands, I am six months away from completing my third year in Kuwait. The person I was when I reached this land no longer exists. I don't know where she is, and I haven't heard from her in a while.

I miss her.

In her place, I've found this new S. I've been struggling with her for a while now. She's so rash, so young and overly eager. She hasn't seen a world outside of Kuwait. She's forgotten many things I no longer remember; the sound of snow crunching under her boots, riding the bus, walking to school, doing laundry... Someone else did these things, a long time ago. She's eager, and easily excited. I can't seem to keep her in check. Being so young, she's constantly starving, wanting to devour everything in sight. Every emotion, every sound, every glance... She's on fire and I don't know how to quench her thirst.

Schizophrenia aside, life has been good. I'd almost say too good, but then again I have been sweating blood for almost a year now trying to create the life I've always wanted and so I think I'll just enjoy the payoff without worrying about any future debt.

(The way I see it? If you're not broke, you're not living) (Yeah, I don't know what that means either. Cut me some slack; I haven't written a while).

Writing this, I'm listening to the song I've added above and I'm surrounded by boxes, suitcases and general chaos. No, we're not leaving the country; we're simply moving to a larger home. Why bring this up? Well, this is the most familiar setting I've found myself since moving to this country two and a half years ago. The dull thud of brown boxes hitting marble, the fluid sound of zippers and plastic bags rustling... If I close my eyes, it's almost like I'm in my old life again. It's as though we're back in Canada (my real home), and we're preparing for the next major move. Usually, my nerves would burn with an intoxicating mix of anxiety, anticipation and excitement; just think of all the new people, new teachers, news books!

Not this time. After the last piece of clothing has been hung and the last screw twisted, I'll still be in Kuwait. A new carpet doesn't change that. The most disturbing part? I'm not as upset about this as I'd like to be.

I don't like where we are. I need to move out of Kuwait, soon.

Feeling blissfully spent,

S.

PS - You are the one that lies close to me, Kuwait. (Unfortunately for both of us).

PPS - How fucking excited are we to have the sun back? Spring rocks.

Labor Pains

2011-02-16T05:30:00.000-08:00

I LOVE HER. Also, this photo was simply added for my amusement.

I'm taking a break from writing, blogging and thinking.

I just need some time to clear my head. Nothing dramatic.

Missing you already,

S.

PS - It's my 19th birthday on Saturday.

V Day

2011-02-14T10:29:00.000-08:00

For those who don't know, this is a condom. I understand SexEd isn't big in Kuwait.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone. I know there are a few of you out there who are either:

Lonely
Lonely & Bitter
Lonely & Bitter & Married
Getting some tonight

(If you're one of the people who fall under the fourth point, don't forget to buy flowers on your way home, lest you find yourself in the third circle of despair).

Like a beautiful set of crisp sheets, let's cast humor aside for today. Today... it seems to be hitting a nerve with many people. A day set aside for love, mainly by corporate big-wigs and candy manufacturers who adore a spike in their early first quarter profits. In short? Valentine's day has less to do about the worth of your significant other, and more to do with worthless (not to mention, ultimately meaningless) junk sold at criminally over-priced rates.

BITTER? NOT THIS FEMINIST.

What's even more frustrating and confusing is the social structure in the Middle East. In this region, people live (or at least they try to). Among these "people", you have the youth. Now the youth, being their usual reckless selves, will at some point discover the opposite (or same) sex (this is a gay friendly blog, all love is recognized). Some might even be lucky enough to fall in love. However, love in the Middle East comes with a great deal of fine print. At last check, the following requirments were necessary prerequisites for baby-making:

Mate must be of same religion - This rule is flexible for men, but once again Islam leaves women wanting more.

Same sect is usually a must, however in some cases merely preferable - Even if those crazy kids end up getting hitched, familial tension is sure to ensue.

Mate should be from a good "pure" family whose roots can be traced as far back as needed - Because if they don't know who and what you are, how are her great aunts supposed to accurately gossip about you?!

Same tribe is also appreciated, but again, not entirely necessary - "Tribe" is used for lack of a more modern word, but it still holds true.

Mate should be of similiar, if not the same, nationality - Location, location, location. Kuwaiti marrying a Saudi? Doable. Kuwaiti marrying a Syrian? That's a toughie.

It would also be nice if you actually liked the person - This however, is not necessary in the least.

I know that restrictions and limitations like these aren't strictly exclusive to the Middle East, but it is more complicated here. What with all the religious tension (one of the greatest roadblocks of young love), a very archaic approach to the maintenance of the current class system (however subtle is it), and all the confusion that comes with years of segregation... Well, most of you are screwed.

To say the least.

Wrapping it up for everyone's sake,

S.

PS - What's your take on love, in the Middle East, or otherwise?

Sharing Is Caring

2011-02-12T03:07:00.000-08:00

H did this for an art project!

While sometimes my Mom thinks I spend far too much time and effort on my blog, as opposed to wasting my time working on KU related matters, I would have never discovered this brilliant form of escape if it was for my original partner in crime, H. (She totally took the initial thing from me!)

Close to a year ago, she so kindly invited to be a guest writer on her original blog, Obsessco, and I jumped at the chance. We had a lot of fun and certainly raised a few eyebrows, but as is life we both outgrew that stage of our foray into the blogosphere. After we parted ways, I made this blog, and she's got hoer own offering to give to the cyber community.

You can find her new blog, entitled 'The Hay Road', here.

If you like me or my blog, then you owe his woman a visit. Without her, I wouldn't have ever started this ~~waste of time~~ blog. She's brilliant, has great taste in movies and documentaries, and I'm excited to see what else she has up her sleeve.

VICTORY!

2011-02-11T10:38:00.000-08:00

YOU DID IT EGYPT!

Eighteen days of struggle, but you did it!

Broken Records

2011-02-10T07:37:00.000-08:00

Guess who's getting her bangs trimmed soon?! (I love her hair).

Today was boring, and so left with very few options with which to entertain myself, I decided to watch some TV. I settled on MBC1, my go-to channel (but only because I couldn't find the remote control), and settled down to watch a popular talk show called Kalaam Nawa3im. The title of the program roughly translates to "Speech of The Soft", and it's more or less the Middle Eastern version of The View. I'll give you a moment to take this in.

Done? Good.

Where were we? Ah, yes... Something about women.

Jokes aside, I want to shift gears and go for a more somber tone. Today's episode was about domestic abuse, namely between married couples. The guests were a married couple, a man and woman of Egyptian nationality with two (it might have been three) children. The man openly admitted to physically beating his wife and children, and went on to express his reasons for such behavior. His main argument was that he had been raised in a 'military-like environment, devoid of democracy (in the domestic sense)", and so superior/inferior roles exist within a marriage and within a family. Of all the filth he spewed, the most horrific thing he said was, (I'm paraphrasing AND translating here so don't quote me):

If my daughter commits a fault, I will hit her. If she commits a fault as an adult, I expect her husband to hit her.

I honestly cannot describe how much these words break my heart. I get a lot of shit from people about being a feminist, and sometimes I do get tired of the stigma and ridicule. However, it only takes one second of hearing things like the above quote, and I snap out of it. Since this is the 'Month Of Love', I'll save a better written and researched post about domestic violence in the Middle East for later. However, I do want to emphasize one thing:

It's 2011... If he (or she) hits you, then it's not love. It's not healthy. You owe it to yourself (and to your children of you have any) to leave or demand a change for the better. Ask your partner to seek help, be it from a professional or the local Imam, do whatever you have to. Just don't leave a bad situation as is, hoping it'll mend itself.

Remember that no matter who you are, no matter what you've done in your life, no one should have the right to lay their hand on you. You deserve more, you deserved to be loved, and you deserve to be respected. Never forget that.

Spinning an old tune,

The Good Stuff

2011-02-08T15:59:00.000-08:00

I may or may not have been Joni Mitchell in a previous life.

On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
And your face sketched on it twice

Reincarnation aside, I've often wondered what "home" really means. I was born in the US, raised in Canada, spent some time in Sweden, lived out my summers in Syria and I'm now currently kicking it in Kuwait. What I'm trying to say is that I've never really had a place I call home.

I'm not speaking about "home", as in the house you live in with your parents, roommate, partner etc. I'm talking about home on a much larger scale. It could be an entire country, it could be a single street in the corner of some obscure town (You know, one of those places that still think "Apples" & "BlackBerries" are fruits). Home could also be someone's arms, or a distant memory. I don't really know, the definition of anything differs from one person to the next. I'd like to think we all eventually find our way home.

Me?

I'm still looking for a home.

Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
And still be on my feet

Side note: life is not fair.

Nursing her drink,

PS - The lyrics to this song kill me.

PPS - I have no idea why I'm being such a woman lately. I think it's the 'Month of Love'... it's getting to me.

Gag Me

2011-02-06T12:47:00.000-08:00

The song's name has been changed from 'S&M' to 'Come On' in some regions, namely the UK.

While today's post veers slightly off topic, it's something that's been bothering me for a while now. Add the recent release of the above train-wreck to my simmering frustration, and I've had it.

Seriously.

Before I move on, I'll just take a cyber second to make clear how I feel about love & sex. This isn't to explain myself or my opinions, but rather to put everything into context. After all, what are words without context?

Growing up, we spent a few years in Sweden and this may or may not be common knowledge but the Swedes are high functioning hippies. What does that mean, you wonder? It means that their relaxed approach to human sexuality is what I took away from my time there. Well, I took away a lot from my time spent there, but this is the most relevant for the issue at hand. (I promise to write about my time in Sweden in greater detail sometime soon). So in short, my stance is as follows:

If it's mutual and consensual then it's none of my business.
I'm not a prude, but leaving somethings unsaid and private keeps them special.
That's all.

'S&M'... What a tragedy.

I don't have anything against Rihanna or her music in particular, but 'S&M' is the straw that broke the camel's back (kinky, I know). I'm not going to attempt to explain what S&M actually is, but I'll just say this: Rihanna has no fucking idea what she's doing. My super-human ability to analyze the hell out of anything suggests that she's trying to convey the sometimes sadistic relationship between celebrities and the press/paparazzi. I get it: sex sells. However, I'm just not buying into this constant degradation of something we should be treating with more respect.

While not entirely original, the song is layered. The lyrics are average, the beat catchy and the hook insane. Nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to Pop music. Hell, I've even jogged to this track, and I like the entire album (Loud) for what it is: cookie-cutter Pop. I'm telling you all these things because I want you to understand that I don't have any grievances with RiRi or her sound. I do have a problem with this particular music video.

'S&M' is not the first, nor is it the last, tribute to this irritating trend. Upon closer examination, it's not as ridiculous as I remembered it before I began writing this, but it pays the price for being the most recent misstep. It's just so sad to see people so willingly sell out and turn the extraordinary into something menial, cheap and ordinary because they want record sales. I'm all for free speech, and have been a vehement opposer of censorship since middle school, but this?

It's just lacking, in taste and thought.

Seeking out the sacred,

PS - I gotta say though, RiRi looks damn fine.

Hush

2011-02-05T21:21:00.000-08:00

**Disclaimer: This is my attempt at being "open" and "vulnerable". I'm not very good at it, and I apologize in advance**

Apologies for not posting anything yesterday. While I am trying to post daily for the duration of the 'Month of Love', yesterday something felt off. I was doing that thing where I ignore my feelings, and so I couldn't think. When I can't think, I can't create and so I can't ~~blog~~ write.

That's life for you. It's a vicious cycle, but I'm beginning to talk in circles...

Melancholy aside, I've got a song to share with you today. It falls under the "Bitter Ex-Lover" category of love songs, so you know I was all over it like bees on honey. I'll be honest, apart from this song, I don't really listen to Damien Rice. His style in music is a bit too something for me (I'm not sure what). At this stage in my life, I listen to music to either escape reality/daydream, get pumped up for the gym or both. I'm a very sensitive person (shocker, I know) and so listening to some songs just hurts. If that makes any sense.

'Delicate' is one of those songs.

"So why do you fill my sorrow
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known?"

I preach about love, but I carry around a lot of hate. I am so angry, furious really, over and at so many things, we'd need a couple of lifetimes just to go through that list. It's so hard, being this angry all the time, being so bitter and hateful. I try my best to not inflict it on other people, and so I keep to myself, minding my own business. However, anger being what it is, it needs somewhere to go. Since I refuse to send out that much negative energy out into the world, it lives inside me. It eats away at me. All the time.

I've tried letting go, I've tried turning to God and religion, I've tried forgiveness... but it's useless.

Nothing works.

What I'm trying to say is that my life hangs in a delicate balance. Don't mess it up with your chaos. Don't ask for something I don't have. Don't ask for something I can't give. Don't try and trap me with your words, into your world. Don't make me regret everything that came before you. Lastly, don't make me ruin everything that will come after you.

Love? Love is easy. It's hate that is delicate.

Licking her wounds,

Give & Take

2011-02-04T09:15:00.000-08:00

Found scrawled on a table in KU months ago. I thought it was interesting.

Anyhow, today I've got quite a bit of love to share:

I was interviewed by the amazing Shelly, and you can read the exchange on his blog (which is pretty damn snazzy) here. It's basically the two of us having fun. Oh, and him being super kind and funny, and flattering, and intelligent...

I've received quite a bit of heartwarming feedback in regards to the blog from the best readers a kid can ask for and... Well, see for yourself. (The graph is a screen shot from my 'Stats' page).

You punks did this. Thank you.

Thank you Kuwait. For a lot of things.

Sighing 'til Saturday,

S.

PS - I lack inspiration on Fridays, so hang in there with me.

God Is Love

2011-02-03T11:06:00.000-08:00

In Egypt, Christians protecting Muslims during prayer (Original link here)

This is the most beautiful thing I have seen in my young life.

This is worship. This is humanity. This... gives me hope.

It's my new desktop background.

Easing into the emotion,

S.

PS - Yes, I cried when I first saw it.

Rent

2011-02-02T10:03:00.000-08:00

There are always going to be those people who will forever live in the back of our minds (I'm thinking of charging a certain someone rent!), lurking in the shadows among all those taboo thoughts we keep hidden from the rest of the world. They're the "What ifs?". They remind us of all those times we were too shy to speak up, or too embarrassed to act. They're ships that have long sailed off to other seas, leaving us stranded on little islands of emotion. (Take note: I was never much of a swimmer).

The title of this song translates to 'Did He Mention Me?', and it's sung by the wonderful Egyptian singer, Angham. It was recommended by a friend with exquisite taste, and here I am still listening to it three days later. I'm not sure what it is about this song, but something about it really spoke to me. I suppose it's the way she wonders if he still feels the way he used to. Is it possible to stop feeling for people we loved, just like that? Do we ever really get over people?

Me? I've met my fair share of characters, some memorable, some not so much. I've admired from afar, and charmed up close. Have I ever been in love? Not really.

I still haven't gotten over Kuwait.

Pondering the past,

S.

PS - Is there anyone (or anything) that is always in the back of your mind? Comments are below.

Beats

2011-02-01T10:46:00.000-08:00

Who wants to guess what's on fire?

On this blog, we (my ego and I) preach about love and acceptance. Today is the first day of February, so that being that, I OFFICIALLY declare February to be the 'Month Of Love'. What does this mean, you wonder? Well, it means a lot. It includes, but is not limited to, the following:

Posts discussing the reality of dating (and things of that nature) in the Middle East, Kuwait specifically.
My favorite ~~love~~ songs and why I like them (Yes, feminists have feeling too) (Sometimes).
Love songs I find to be ridiculous and just straight up stupid (Bruno Mars, I'm looking at you).
Patriotism, and what it means (It's a form of love, and Kuwait's national holidays are in February, so I'm still with the theme).
~~Why it is my dream to~~ ~~die alone and husband-less~~
All and any other random philosophical bullshit that I come up with.

Yes folks, I've decided to inject my blog with a healthy dose of tear-inducing estrogen because February is, if nothing else, a month of bullshit and promises. Oh, and love (I always forget that last one). So, I'll do my best to post daily and keep it relevant to Kuwait all while being fun. By fun, I mean ridiculously inappropriate... Or clever... Or both.

Moving onto today's post: The Implications of A Glance

In honor of of all the crazy shit I see on Gulf road and Valentine's day, and being the ~~deluded blogger with a God complex~~ creative genius that I am, I've decided to score the stereotypical Kuwaiti fling using lyrics from various songs I have on my iPod. The themes are love, exchanging numbers, phones, money, driving, highways, stolen glances etc.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you a Kuwaiti love affair from start to finish.

I apologize in advance Enjoy.

The Implications of A Glance

Christina Aguilera - Genie In A Bottle
Hormones racing at the speed of light
But that don't mean it's gotta be tonight
Baby, baby, baby
(Baby, baby, baby)

The Arctic Monkeys - I Bet You Look Good

Stop making the eyes at me, I'll stop making the eyes at u
What it is that surprises me is that I don't really want u to

Timbaland & Katy Perry - If We Ever Meet Again

Ya habeeby Baby tell me what's your story
I ain't shy, don't you worry
I'm flirtin with my eyes, wanna leave with you tonight

Rihanna Feat. Drake - What's My Name
You just waiting on the traffic jam to finish girl
The things that we could do in twenty minutes girl

Beyonce - Yes

Somewhere between hi and goodbye
I felt so comfortable
I felt like we could ~~BBM~~ talk all night
So I gave my number to you

Lady Gaga - Summerboy
Hey there summer boy
Let’s go for a drive
Take me for a ride
Never gonna close our eyes
Hey there summer boy
I’m a busy girl
Don’t have too much time
Hurry up before I change my mind

Pause

Sia - The Co-Dependent
Feels like we are married and I haven't run away, run away, run away
So many years I've carried you in my arms
Yet I stay, yet I stay, yet I stay
And still I come a-running when I hear the telephone,
telephone, telephone

Ace of Base - All That She Wants
The gentle voice that talks to you won't talk forever
It is a night for passion
But the morning means goodbye

No Doubt - It's My Life
And I've asked myself
How much do you
Commit yourself?

Skip

Lady Gaga - Telephone

Stop callin', stop callin',
I don't wanna think anymore!
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor.
Stop callin', stop callin',
I don't wanna talk anymore!

No Doubt - Don't Speak

It's all ending
I gotta stop pretending who we are...
You and me I can see us dying...are we?

Shuffle

Shakira - Don't Bother

So don't bother,
I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine
Promise you won't ever see me cry
And after all I'm glad that I'm not your type, not your type, not your type, not your type
Promise you won't ever see me cry

2Pac - I Ain't Mad At You

And I can't even trip, 'cause I'm just laughin' at cha
You tryin hard to maintain, then go head
'Cause I ain't mad at cha
I ain't mad at cha

Repeat

Shuffling her thoughts,

S.

PS - How did you interpret the story? You know where the comments go.

Vibin'

2011-01-30T09:52:00.000-08:00

It's almost February, and foam is illegal this year. We'll see about that...

As you all know, I'm currently on winter break from KU and so I've been taking it easy for the past few days. You know the drill: eat, sleep, cry about your life, eat some more, go to the gym and repeat. What can I say? I'm a party animal. Also, if Kuwait had clubs, I feel fairly confident in saying they couldn't handle me.

However awesome whatever I just implied may be, I digress...

Let's get down to business, and by business I mean let's pick apart the finer points of our Kuwaiti society. (When I blog about Kuwait in a harsh manner, I include myself in the pronouns used. Genius? Yeah, I'd like to think so. I'm still an outsider though).

Today's target: Wataniya.

Before I move forth with this social crusade, I'd like to make a few things clear:

I am Wataniya customer myself, so I have earned the right to talk smack about them.

I own neither a BB nor an iPhone. My phone is one of those awesome 5KD phones that doubles as a weapon. Blunt force trauma is your friend.

Despite how ridiculous this chat culture has gotten, I neither judge nor condemn those who use it. It is pretty lame if that's how you hook up with people though. Like, whatever happened to Marina mall? Remember that place? Romance is just dead these days...

The other day I was just laying on my bed and in the midst of a fierce staring contest with my ceiling, I was rudely interrupted by my phone. I had just received a ~~sext~~ text. Me, being the social hermit that I am, there were really only two possibilites as to why someone would text me:

Friends want to go out for brunch (RARE).
Wataniya sending me another promo SMS (Not so rare.... All the while reminding me how little of a life I have).

Anyways, I received the following twexts (Twext: When you receive more than 1 text at a time. Think obsessive boyfriend... Or Wataniya. Copyright pending):

First in Arabic (You have no idea how long it took to type this up. The things I do for you punks... Also, it's slightly jumbled because of format, but you get the picture.)

دردش على راحتك و تواصل مع أصدقاء جدد مع WCHAT ارسل "دردش" الى 1666 او اشترك عن طريق الواب من موبايلك. للمزيد اتصل على 122.

Then in English (this is where shit gets good),

Be anyone, and chat with everyone anonymously with WChat! To join now, send "WCHAT" to 1666 or login via WAP from your mobile phone. Call 121 for details.

HOLD THE PHONE KUWAIT.

So, what I am to understand from this is that it's NOT okay to socialize with the opposite sex without social stigma, BUT it's TOTALLY cool if I want to spend an entire night talking to strangers? Oh, talking to strangers ANONYMOUSLY? The fact that the "anonymous" angle is the selling point for Kuwaitis is disgusting. The fact that this company supports this disgusts me. The fact that Kuwait is sold as being an "Islamic Nation", despite the blatant bullshit I see everyday disgusts me.

Seen outside my chemistry class in KU. Ironic? Yes.

Honestly, I don't blame the youth here for being so strange and bizarre. How are they supposed to develop like normal human beings when everything with the opposite sex is stigmatized? (Well, unless it's anonymous and being pushed forth by your phone service provider). I don't give a shit what the Salaf say, interest in the other (or same) sex is normal. What's not normal is oppressing generation after generation of young people, until you're left with nothing but an entire country of sadistic and sexually confused people. All this bullshit, and people wonder why Kuwait's social structure is crumbling underneath its own weight?

Wataniya, keeping you socially connected and emotionally isolated since 1999.

Feeling the frustration,

PS - How do you feel about Kuwait's "conservative" society being so transparent?

Iron Fists

2011-01-23T01:34:00.000-08:00

Today is the first day of my month-long winter break. Several events have happened in the past little while, so let's take a cyber-step back and reminisce. Shall we? (Just kidding, this is my blog. Your opinions are void). The list is as follows:

My first semester as a (read: unwilling) student at Kuwait University has come to an end - If I pass Chemistry, know there is a God (I barely touched my textbook ahead of finals. I'm sorry but I don't care about titration. Not in the least).

Officially entered my last month as foolish 18 year old ~~Canadian~~ ~~Syrian~~ Kuwaiti - My birthday is in a month. Spend that 1000KD wisely kiddos.

That's it - It's sad how little of a life I have. The first half of my E! True Hollywood Story is going to suck.

Speaking of life, I can't help but feel very down in the midst of mine these days. When I was younger, I gladly took all the awkward moments, bad haircuts and social stigma of being me (It happens when you're this brilliant) the universe threw at me, with the understanding that my life would rock when I was older. As a 9 year old, I dreamed of the 19 year old me. I envisioned her as a happy young woman, with a double major in English Literature and Political Science. She'd spend rainy Wednesdays hiding out in European coffee shops, discussing philosophy and all that fun, but meaningless, existentialist bullshit for hours at a time (Yes, in my vision I'm a douche-bag). At the time, I thought it was a simple enough fantasy for myself. I just wanted to be doing something I love, and to be graced with good company and even better conversation.

But no.

I end up in Kuwait.

Readers of this blog know how much effort I put into trying to see the good in Kuwait. I look for redeeming humor at KU. I search street signs for poetry, glance at shadows looking for life and listen for beating hearts in rush hour traffic. All five sense are stretched, and then some, but I'm left in the dark.

My life has become a tunnel, in which I can look neither left nor right. I'm forced to stare at my future, and there's no light at the end if this tunnel. I despise my major, but I only agreed to it in hopes it gets me out of Kuwait. I'll gladly trade the fulfillment and devotion I felt to writing in order to leave this country for a decade. A sad trade off, but I'm left with very few options.

Once a girl who cried during the "Save A Child In Africa" infomercials/documentaries, I have lost the ability to empathize with people. Feelings never factor into my decisions, not even with those closest to me. A mask is what I wear during the day, and it works well enough. People see what I want them to see. They see what they want to see. Sometimes I come across as a mildly interested young woman trying to read the Arabic on posters around KU, other times my face is as blank and as emotionless as a gray wall. My classmates don't like me, and I couldn't care less for them. They are shallow, insignificant and irrelevant women who refuse to challenge themselves. They have neither academic wit not domestic prowess. The few interactions I've had with the boys at KU have been entirely underwhelming, but there's some hope there. The women... They're just hopeless. I can't help but feel as though Feminism is being wasted here. It even seems as though they enjoy being dependent and ultimately subservient.

Honestly, I don't even know what to say anymore. Living in Kuwait is like living with 2 million copies of the exact same ignorant dumbass. The real kicker? The Salaf aren't the worst of the bunch.

Kuwait, where it's not a stereotype... It's a way of life.

I've grown bitter. I'm tired of looking for a silver lining amongst all this golden silence. My mind has grown rusty, and this metaphor has begun to feel cheap (Damn... I've still got it).

Choking on her pride,

PS - Don't diminish the respect I have for you (my readers) by attempting to defend Kuwait. Seriously.

Hey, Big Spender...

2011-01-20T04:24:00.000-08:00

Despite my celibate ways, I often joke that I'm in a deep and committed relationship... With Kuwait.

Kuwait. Where do I start? Is there even an end? Are you still reading this? Good.

This country is what it is. Meanwhile, in another galaxy, I'm me. Unfortunately, neither reality is changing anytime soon. So like oil and water, we're simply not meant to be. Not without a third party anyways (Scientifically speaking, this third party would be an emulsifier. Don't say my blog isn't informative!). While I crave conversation and progressive change, Kuwaitis seem to yearn for something else entirely. That thing varies from person to person, but the one constant that never changes is the ~~need~~ want for money.

Seeing as how I am now Kuwaiti, you would think I'd be pretty excited about the 1000kd gift being granted to each citizen in honor of Kuwait's upcoming milestone anniversaries, right? WRONG. I have no interest in money. I never have and I'll be damned if I ever will. Like I said, I don't care for money. Give me paper and a decent pen, and I'm content. However, I digress. What was I talking about? Oh yes, Kuwait. I'll keep this short. Ready? No? Too bad.

Kuwait, I love you, but things need to change. You know what I'm talking about. As a people, you should be encouraging your government to spend grants/gifts like this one on areas that need the financial support. Your crippled educational system, faulty streets and questionable medical services all spring to mind.

In short: Your government is there for you. Please try to be there for your country.

I remember first hearing this song almost 10 years ago. At the time, I recall thinking that I would someday dedicate this song to whoever I ended up falling in love with (There's still time). Well, here I am today. I love you Kuwait, and I want to see you better. This is my gift to you.

I didn't quite understand the meaning of this song then, but I do today... and so here I am, ten years later, dedicating it to you.

Hoping you'll spend some time,

S.

PS - Like that fateful feline, curiousity is my fault. So tell me, what are you going to do with your 1000kd?

No Sole

2011-01-11T13:25:00.000-08:00

She walks like this cause she can BACK IT UP.

1/11/11.

Also known as January 11, 2011. A momentous day for people who like to add significance to what I'm guessing are their insignificant lives. Oh, the privilege it is of being a member of this dumb ass generation.

(I promise I have some actual politically charged and thought-inducing posts about recent events and topics that relate to Kuwait... However, for the next little while, I'm going to need to vent. Bear with me).

Let's go through a little rundown of how things are going in my life, shall we?

Finals - They start Thursday. I'd ask you to pray for me, but we both know ~~that doesn't actually help matters~~ that we're all busy people, and there are people out there that deserve your prayers more.

Men - Unless they're gay, I honestly can no longer deal with them (Except my Dad, a.k.a Caribou money supplier a.k.a hero). I have neither the time nor energy for their bullshit. Period. (Hormonal pun... intended). ~~That's a lie; putting up with their bullshit is fun and a great way to waste time.~~

Health - When I was 15 years old, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. About a year later I had my thyroid removed and now subsist on a daily dose of Thyroxine. The thyroid controls everything in your body. This includes your mood, sleeping pattern, ability to focus, your skin etc. I haven't been to KU in three days because I haven't been able to get out of bed. I've been sleeping almost 18 hours straight everyday and I have pounding headaches round the hour. It's all good though. Not. (If I die, please tell the world my story. ~~Don't forget to mention I was a good writer.~~ Thank you in advance).

In short, I don't like who I've become. The following is an excerpt from an essay I found in my senior year English binder. The question was "What future career plans do you hold for yourself?". The following was the answer I wrote on October 28, 2009:

"My future career plans are quite ambitious, but I never saw any harm in dreaming. After I complete medical school, I hope to complete my residency in Canada, the US or England. After that is completed, I will partake in a fellowship to be able to specialize even further in an area of my work. I will work, try to open my own private clinic and someday open a hospital with my father, who is also a doctor. However much I dislike living in Kuwait, I can see myself working in the country. Although I would work here, it would not be all year, but rather a couple of months at a time while I split my time between here and North America. Lastly, but certainly not least, I would love to become the Health Minister of Kuwait, which I believe would make me the first female to hold the position if no other woman attains.
Unfortunately, my plans are not as random as I had hoped for years ago, but with a general structure I feel safer and more confident heading into the intimidating world of adulthood."

Looking back, I guess I did have ambition. This new girl I've become is not cool. I ~~hate her fucking ambition-less guts~~ don't like her. Considering how it's me, myself and I at KU, this is proving to be quite the problem.

Oh, and in regards to the title of this post and the photo...

Christian Louboutin was in Kuwait.

Mass hysteria ensued. Apparently.

~~The masses continue to live deluded lives, unaware of what is actually going on in their own country... but~~ Hey, 600kd shoes are a big fucking deal, okay?

Too pissed for a pun,

S.

PS - How are you doing?

PPS - This was supposed to be posted before midnight. I failed, therefore the glitch between the dates. I apologize for my inability to be my usual epic self.

The Meat Grind

2011-01-07T11:59:00.000-08:00

No burgers OR hot dogs. Metaphorically speaking. Yeah.

The first week of the new year is quickly drawing to an end, and here I am... Or should I say, here we are? Yes folks, you read that correctly: The Expat Files now has FIVE followers! Count them and weep! Also, when you're done weeping, get back to reading this post. Please and Thank You in Advance.

(If I ever get ten followers on this thing, I'm starting a religion. Humanity... Consider this your warning).

However, I'm getting off track here. Let's head back to my main point: The new year.

Culturally speaking, a new year generally means a new beginning, right? Seeing as how I successfully killed it with three out of four of my resolutions for 2010 (I still get panicky around Kuwaitis in large numbers), my ego was feeling rather fluffed and so I decided to really challenge (read: willingly make myself miserable) this year, and set out on conquering a few more goals. They are as follows:

Become a vegetarian, and slowly phase into a completely vegan diet - This one of for my health, and because I didn't think I was giving people enough reasons to dislike me. I've been meat-free for almost 10 days now, and I'm feeling good. I'll dedicated a more detailed post to this and the reasons behind sometime

Get out of KU - My entire blog is dedicated to this point. Any further explanation will see me jumping off of Kuwait Towers. Seriously.

That's it - I apologize for not having more of a life.

Bullets aside, I can't deny I've been feeling very disillusioned as of late. My first semester at KU comes to an end next Wednesday, and so you would assume I'd happy. Why would I be happy? Well, let's see:

I should be happy to have made it through the first three months there.
I should be happy to have made it through the first three months there.
I should be happy to have made it through the first three months there.

The only downside to that fact would be the fact that I still have semester 2 and the summer semester to get through... AND SCENE.

I'm done bitching. For now.

This entire charade was just my way of declaring my new meat-less life. Think of it as my way of protesting my time spent at KU, as in I refuse to kill animals to survive if I can't kill the cows I got to school with.

That, and I'm trying to get out of a creative funk.

Basking in the after-taste of inspiration,

S.

Lyric of The Day: "She could kill me, just like she did before..." True Love Way - Kings of Leon

PS - Have you conquered any goals recently? You know where the comments go.

The X To My Why

2011-01-02T09:43:00.000-08:00

(Edit: This was written as a letter sent between two lovers who can never be together. Why? The girl didn't think their astrological signs were a good match. It was my new age take on star-crossed lovers. We were reading Romeo & Juliet at the time. English, grade 9... Good times).

While I'm more of a hard-hitting journalist (read: deluded blogger with 4 followers), I do actually enjoy writing fiction every now and then. Sadly, life has side swept me and I haven't had a whole lot of free time. What with KU, preparing my blog posts and life in general, I'm lucky I have time so sleep. However, I found one of my creative writing pieces from a few years ago. Enjoy.

(It's kind of lame). (You've been warned).

Dear Someone,

It’s on days like this one that I hate you. I really, truly hate you. I was stuck in a miserable loop of heartache and shame when we met, so much so that I never even considered you for a second. I was not remotely impressed, nor did I even give you a second thought. That’s where I messed up; I didn’t see you as the threat you were, and so I didn’t feel it necessary to put up defenses. You were nothing to me, you didn’t mean anything.

Now, you’re not everything, but you’re pretty damn close.

It’s frightening how much you affect my mood. I feel like a small child, clinging onto you, wanting you to be everything to me. That last part is where I begin to freak out. I’m not used to needing people, certainly not to this extent. Glorious as it was, I can’t help but sometimes wish we had never we met. I’m too young to feel this old and heart-broken, and I’m tired of constantly yearning for you. All these emotions make me feel weak; I should be above yearning, above wants and needs, above love.
As far as I can tell, I love you. I don’t think that will ever change. I don’t look forward to the day we’re both older, and we’re married, but not to each other. It’s stupid how far ahead I’m thinking. I told you, you’re aging me at a rapid pace.

It probably won’t ever happen, us I mean. It wouldn’t work out, but I don’t think I’ll ever find another like you. I constantly compare people to you. None of them quite hit the spot. You’re my constant imaginary companion, and we do everything together. Crazy? I believe so.

I miss you so much. I love you even more.

While I’ll never stop loving you, today is just one of those days when I don’t like you.

Today, I hate you.

(Regretfully) Yours,

S.

PS - Any thoughts or comments?

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2010-12-31T13:04:00.000-08:00

The Bullets Are Proof

2010-12-31T08:50:00.000-08:00

A beautiful song. The perfect melody to start off the new year with.

2010. What a year.

Where does one begin? Is there even a beginning, or end for that matter, to all the wonderful and horrible things that have happened this year?

The Good

For the longest time, I truly believed I would never find like-minded people with whom I could identify. I'm not ashamed to say I'm very proud I was wrong. I hope to remain wrong for as long as it feels right. While we should all be able to go it alone, it's healthy to realize that even someone as awesome as The Expatess can get lonely (from time to time). It's not weakness, it's a sign we're alive. Because, you know, heart beats are faulty.

I finally got my act together, taking my medication like clockwork, getting my 2.0L of water a day and feeling better than ever. My illness? High school. Once I graduated, life improved drastically. So if you're reading this and are miserable (and in hell school), let me tell you... It gets better. It'll be over before you know it. Hey, I made it out alive!

Speaking of quality of life, 2010 taught me many things. It crushed my foolish and unnecessary pride, handed me back my dignity and left me with a pretty good head on my shoulders. Traumatic? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely.

Scoring a 6 (OUT OF 7) on my HIGH LEVEL IB English course. I don't generally toot my own horn, but I'm very proud of this acheivement. As one of about 25 (give or take) students who took IB English in ACA, I beat all the girls AND THE BOYS. I got the highest mark! Okay, I'll stop abusing the Caps button.... NOW.

Got my fashion game together. I feel compelled to say it's a little bit military, androgynous, James Dean and a whole lot neutral. What can I say? I dress in shades of gray so my colorful words can really POP!

So, um... Apparently not all straight guys are evil. This? News to me.

I ended up in Kuwait University.

The Bad (Here's where it gets funny)

Working with my PreCal teacher (During high school) in order to pass her class. Which I did, albeit by a measly 1%... Not one of my better accomplishments. Looking back, I think she was more stressed about it than I was. I maintain, to this day, that the numbers were racist against Canadians. You laugh, but you know it's true (Or not). Also, I do not care about Sine/Cosine/Tan waves. Like, at all.

Having no one believe I'm Kuwaiti, so just giving up and telling everyone I'm from Bahrain. I'm kidding. Or am I?

Walking into the boys washroom (BY ACCIDENT!) (Maybe) three times in my first two weeks of school. Thank goodness no one actually uses them. Well, other than to smoke in. And call their girlfriends. Oh, have I said too much?

I'm going to dedicate one simple bullet to the lack of (fashion) inspiration I faced this year. I'll just say that I'm grateful for eyeliner, fashion blogs and my hard-working Father's money... and we'll leave it at that. See, this is what happens when you don't have an older sister and/or a Gay brother. Ugh). Thank goodness I cleaned up my act.

Realizing KU's library doesn't have any interesting books to read. Like, not a single book. One can only look for typos in various volumes of Sharia law books for so long.

On a slightly more somber note, I faced many emotional hurdles this year. I know I'll continue to face many more in the years to come (it's part of this thing called "life"), but with help and hope given to me by a few amazing rocks in my life, I made it through. I still have those pebble-kicking kind of days, but I've got boulders supporting my castles in the sky. For that, I am so unbelievably grateful. (You guys know who you are. I love you all so much).

I ended up in Kuwait University.

Here's to the end of this decade, and to the beginning of everything (and anything) else. Here's to you, to me, to Kuwait, to him, to her and to anyone else with a decent internet connection.

I'll leave you with some words from my boy Billy:

“Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.” - Shakespeare

2010... You made a woman out of me.

Toasting the year in which my only love sprung from my only hate,

PS - Any thoughts or hopes for 2011? Please share, I love reading these types of things.

PPS - Last treat of the year? A Twix bar.

But Do You "Like" Like Me?

2010-12-31T05:04:00.000-08:00

Poked? That's just disgusting. Feel free to lick.. err.. I mean, LIKE me.

This is a momentous day for The Expatess. I almost have more followers than I do fingers (one hand though), and I've decided the branch out and uh.... Join Facebook. Yes, you read that correctly.

I joined Facebook. I went viral. Again. (This blog counts, right?)

LIKE ME!

The Expat Files on that digital book with all the pretty faces. Or, my Facebook Page for short.

Also, a huge THANK YOU goes out to all who helped (Cookie monsters unite!), and this is me spreading the love by sharing some links they feel should get some exposure:

The things I do for you punks. All four of you.

Digging through her old social graveyard,

S.

PS - Like me! (Shameless, I know).

Snap Snap

2010-12-29T13:08:00.000-08:00

This job really doesn't pay well.

The Expatess. Kuwait University. A digital camera. Wit.

No one, and nothing, was safe.

(The following is one of a few photo-heavy posts I've made as an homage to my first semester at Kuwait University. Enjoy, and take it all with a pinch of salt. No Kuwaitis were (permanently) harmed in the making of this series.) (Unfortunately). (Also, I hate disclaimers. Damn my politically-correct Canadian ways).

*Cue Paparazzi by Lady Gaga*

Because nothing makes a house a home like day-glow pistachio green paint. (That was a mouthful to say!). I drive by this... "house" every morning. The words "morning" and "sickness" come to mind... *Rolls down car window*

I christened this thing The Birth Canal. I pass through it every morning, and it's a very painful and very intense experience... EVERY TIME. I've yet to find stretch marks, but it's only a matter of time.

PUSH! Or.. Not.

These flowers were the closest thing to Christmas decorations we had at KU. Well, that and the red Starbucks cups. It's sad on several, albeit refreshing and minty, levels...


Holiday Cheer!

I found my (unauthorized) biography at KU. Contrary to recent reports, I am NOT amused.

You'll be hearing from my lawyers...

Despite what they'll have you think, we do indeed have Gay Pride at KU. It's just that it's slyly encrypted within common, everyday objects. How can you have a campus with that many sequins and homophobia? Answer: You can't. *Cue Cyndi Lauper's True Colors*


FABU-to-the-LOUS.

I found this in the library as well. I'm telling you it doesn't get any more Gay-friendly than KU Khaldiya...

This King is "Queen". Also, this "Queen" is a man.

They had a chocolate expo at KU the other day. The goods sold out before I got a chance to snap any pictures, but there was plenty of eye candy... I know, I'm horrible. Sue me.

Cheap as dirt! (Get it? Because the Geological.. Forget it).

Speaking of shoving things down one's throat... (Again, SUE ME) It's hard for one as receptive as myself to ignore all the religious undertones at KU. The following was found scrawled on a wall in the girl's lounge. I use the word "lounge" loosely.


God needs to get a new advertising agency...

Speaking of God, this sticker mishap proves one exists.

I've been saying this for years now. This is divine proof.

You CAN NOT make this shit up. You can, however, buy it every Wednesday at our cafeteria. Yummy!

Where do I even start?

One of several short-cuts I've found (read: made up) in KU. I've dubbed this bad boy Rape Alley. Also, I once saw a cockroach kill a cat here. I wish I were joking. I might be. Or not.

Sometimes the cockroaches offer me ciggies.

As far as I'm concerned, these neon-orange flowers are the plants that Knafa is made of. Am I right, or am I right?

Stalkers take note: I HATE Knafa.

Because I want to end things on a funny note, here's a picture of the women's prayer hall/cubicle/my occasional nap spot. Yes, I'm aware I'm most likely going to Hell (If one exists). See you there!

It's like sleeping on a cloud. In heaven. Goodnight!

Seriously? No, SERIOUSLY?

2010-12-27T11:40:00.000-08:00

KU is crazy, and not the "good" kind either.

I just got a text from the Elmeeya girls, the political party that runs my campus, (#Represent!) (Don't. Seriously.) informing me about a field trip they're planning to Shaab Park tomorrow. There are several things wrong with this scenario:

It's a field trip. I'm a freshman. In UNIVERSITY.
It's a field trip. To a punk ass amusement park.
It's a field trip.
Shaab Park.
It's a field trip.

This is where they want to take us. Take me. The Expatess. I wish I was joking.

I did my research before I started my first semester at KU, and let me tell you this... KU is NOTHING like what I thought it would be like. The lipstick isn't nearly bright (neon?) enough, the ghutras are nowhere near as starched as I hoped they'd be and don't even get me started on the SEVERE deficit of sequins our student body is facing. Liberace is rolling in his grave as I type this. Of that, I'm sure. (Do KUers even know who Liberace is?)

In case you were wondering while I got sidetracked there, no, I am NOT going on the field trip. I understand the girls are attempting to create some fun for the freshmen, but no, Shaab Park is not the way to do that. It's like they're not even trying to entertain me. Or piss me off. Both would work. I'm not overly picky.

In short? KU is letting me down, and this field trip was just the tip of the sand dune. It's just so... boring. The field trips are boring. The exhibitions are boring. The classes are boring. Dare I say it, the people are pretty boring as well. Yeah, I'm a picky elitist loner, but seriously... SHAAB PARK?

Praying for glitter,

S.

PS - What's your least favorite thing/memory about university?

Acapella... Ella... Ella

2010-12-26T11:45:00.000-08:00

Her voice (acapella or otherwise) is just... perfection.

Guess what? Just try. TRY! No? Fine...

MIDTERMS ARE OVER! (For now anyways).

What does that mean? Why should you care??? Well, for starters:

I now have MORE time to blog (read: bitch) about stuff
I can finally sleep without feeling guilty, thinking "I should/could be studying right now..."
I have time to style my hair to perfection. Bad hair? I'd rather die.
I just have more time, therefore I'm content. Simple pleasures and what not... Meh.

I'll be honest, I winged most of the exams but whatever. I'll just make up the difference come finals, because I'm strategic like that. Or not. We'll see if I'm blogging from Ireland next September. Until then, feel free to hold your breaths, because it WILL happen. If it doesn't... Well, I'm just not going to think about that. Not yet.

However, I digress... (Been doing that a lot lately)

I've got yet another biology assignment to do, but I just thought I'd pop by and inform my lovely (albeit silent) readers about what to expect before the new year is upon us. (I'll try to write them all before then, but no promises). These next few posts are going to be a bit more about "me", and a fraction lighter in regards to material/content. I want to end 2010 with a good, positive vibe and so I'll save some of my rants for next year. Cool? Great.

Here's what's next on the docket:

What went down in 2010, and what this year meant to me (It's been the best/worst year of my life).
The explanation behind my (rekindled) love for Asalah.
My plans/goals for 2011.... JUST KIDDING. I don't make plans, because I'm too busy trying to live life.
Why I suddenly began to think (realize?) Kuwaiti guys are indeed bangin' hot. My take on patriotism, if you will (You should, it's GOOD).
If you're still reading this post, I hope -Dear God do I hope- you've realized this whole thing was yet another royal attempt to procrastinate. Who's a winner? I AM! That's right, say my name...

Craving the sound of your cheers,

S.

PS - What topics would you like to see me blog about?

PPS - If you read my blog, and don't comment, I curse you! I curse you with all my Canadian might... That basically means you get a cookie and a hug. Can't win them all, I guess.

Twas The Night...

2010-12-24T12:24:00.000-08:00

December 24, 2010. Christmas Eve.

This would have been the night when my siblings and I would attempt to go to bed, excitedly aware of the fact we would wake up to a mountain of beautifully wrapped presents, courtesy of our dutiful Scottish Godmother. I miss her. I miss the cheesy Christmas movies, the neighbors' crazy decorations, singing in the school Christmas special (I was in choir), but most of all... I miss my home. Canada may not have my family, or most of the people I've decided are family (a.k.a my amazing friends), but it was, and always will be my home.

Sweet memories aside, I wanted to get into the Christmas spirit myself and what better way to do so than to give gifts to those you love? Lord knows I love all my amazing readers, all 3 of them... And so in the spirit of Christmas, I give you the gift of advice. My words, if you will.

Make today special.
Laugh so hard you cry.
Thank a teacher
Start right now.
Be a hero everyday, minus the dorky cape.
Follow your heart (Pray and hope your "heart" drives a bad ass car).
Do it for love, not profit.
Compliment a stranger (Bonus points if you do it on Gulf Road).
Take all your vacation days (Um, welcome to Kuwait anyone?).
Listen first, talk second. Then, blog about it.

Knockin' it back,

S.

PS - Those lines were stolen (borrowed?) off my Caribou Coffee cup. Merry Christmas!

PPS - Any advice you think is worth sharing with a Canadian stuck in KU? You know where the comments go.

PPPS - Don't buy Starbucks. They're evil. Allegedly.

Under The Mistletoe

2010-12-22T12:07:00.000-08:00

Christmas. My favorite holiday of the year since I was a little girl. Eid was never really for me, and it still isn't, but what are you gonna do? Well, I can't do much other than play Christmas music until the day I get to leave Kuwait and celebrate the best holiday ever somewhere more familiar to me. However, this is meant t be a happy time of year, so I'll cut my whining short for tonight.

To lighten the mood, I'm going to share the best Christmas song I have EVER heard. Why? Because it puts just enough sleaze into Christmas to make it fun. What can I say? I have an acquired taste.

The lyrics speak for themselves. Enjoy!

Hoping she made the 'naughty' list,

S.

PS - What's your favorite holiday and why?

When Two Worlds Collide III

2010-12-19T12:32:00.000-08:00

A bit of a stretch, but I definitely see some resemblance. Plus, they're both pretty wacky in equal, but opposite, ways.

Al Qaddafi. LOL...

Pat Monahan, lead singer of Train. Double LOL...

Thinking she should hit up Hassan's,

S.

Bits and Pieces

2010-12-17T07:29:00.000-08:00

Don't say anything. Just listen.

My original intention for this blog had been to virally document my time in Kuwait (and KU) in a humorous, albiet distanced, manner. I was hoping to touch upon some social issues, garner some laughs and if I could get even one person to rethink their approach to any of the topics I've discussed... Well, that would just be a great bonus to an already fulfilling endeavor. However, in this journey that I set out on (for all the wrong reasons), I've come to realize many things. Truths about myself, Kuwait, the people that make up my life and life in general. Some of the discoveries have been good, others great, while some were altogether heart-breaking. The fact that I'm using the word heart-breaking to describe events in my life shows me that I've grown as a person. Perhaps you, my loyal readers, can sense it too? I don't know, but I'd hope so. This "honest vulnerability" thing is harder than it looks.

In the past, I would write and speak in a manner that was brilliant (or so I was told), but cold. I taught myself to inject passion into my words, rendering them relevant and sincere, without ever actually expressing emotion. At least, none of my own emotions. I spent many years living, speaking and dreaming in an abstract world I had created for my own amusement and, now looking back, protection. However, I think that phase of my life is (if it hasn't already) ending. As I slowly grow more confident with who I am as a person, a woman and a thinker, I feel less of an urge to constantly blur my reality with ambigous words, which I only ever used to protect mysef from my own thoughts. Looks may kill, but thinking can torture. That much, I've learnt from my short time on this planet.

Since this was meant to be an update on my life, I suppose I should add some of that jazz into the mix: life's been very interesting lately. There's been some anger, a few surprises, a couple of comforting revelations and a lot of love. I really like that last part. It's a nice change, to have a heart and mind consumed by insane amounts of love and affection, as opposed to the hatred I'd been used to for so many years. Going back and forth to KU is still a stain upon my life, but it's my job to take advantage of all the resources I'm lucky enough to have (especially as a woman), so I'll just white-knuckle it and do my best. On a brighter note, I hope next fall will see yours truly blogging from Ireland, granted I make it alive and sane through this year. It's going to be interesting to see if that ever actually ends up happening, but time will tell.

To wrap up this sickeningly positive post, I just wanted to let the universe know that I can feel it; I can feel the change, the energy surrounding this next stage of my life. I worked off a heart to get here, but I wouldn't change a thing. Hopefully, this advent of love will make for some interesting reading for the two of you that keep up this thing.

Now if you'll kindly excuse me, I need to go ruin someone's day with a snide remark. I can only be so nice at a time. Baby steps, right?

Feeling half-heartedly whole,

PS - How's your life these days?

PPS - Yes, I listen to a select few Arabic singers (More on them in a later post). Don't give me hell about it, it's bad enough my mother thinks I'm "in love" because of my newfound musical leanings...

Clueless

2010-12-13T18:09:00.000-08:00

A new age, a new way of expressing emotion.

Today was a rather strange day. For the first time in my life, I felt lonely.

When I was growing up, we moved every year, so much so that it was basically like clockwork. In terms of family, I was attached to my mother's hip, but my father worked a lot (He still does). Despite this, they both made their presence felt in my early years. I had two brothers (younger) who were each others confidantes. Sometimes they'd let me join in on the fun and secrets with them, other times they'd cast me and my Barbies (Yes, The Expatess had Barbies. Shocking, I know) aside so they could go back to planning out a war attack in the sandbox. My point? I had a happy family, and I was close with them, so no emotional deficit there. Next up: Friends.

Because my Mother is Syrian, all the kids I met growing up were from that general area in the world. The only reason that made any difference was because Syrians take pride in their beautiful porcelain daughters, and I never quite fit in with my tan(ish) skin and black hair. Physical difference allowed for social gaps to form, and they did. It's always bothered me, and still does, that I don't look like "anything". However, my ethnically ambiguous features can be discussed in another post.

I digress...

Overall, I've always had a spot of troubling fitting in, but that never bothered me. I was lucky enough to have discovered the joy of reading at a very early age, so I had found my salvation, socially speaking. I can recall many hours spent sitting on carpeted floors in libraries, going through book after book, exploring the world with the flip of a page. Through books and reading, I learned so much I wouldn't even know where to begin. The best investment I ever made will always be those rainy days, sunny afternoons and dull weekends I spent in a number of libraries I visited, from all around the world. Good times, but they are long gone. While KU does have an impressive library, all it contains are math and science related books. Not an ounce of fiction (The Afaq doesn't count, right?) in sight. While I do buy books, and I have quite the collection, libraries are just pointless without fiction. So no real library in my current life makes for strike one.

Strike two is all about the lack of companionship I have (or don't have) in that damn place. Honestly? I am picky when it comes to "making friends", but only in the sense that I want to spend time with and speak to interesting people. People who can change the way I see the world, challenge the way I think. People that I used to find in books. Fiction books. Strike two.

Strike three? I'm fucking lonely all day everyday and it's turning me into a bitter, mean and pathetic person. In Canada, if the new school sucked, the kids were cool. If the kids were lame, at least my teachers were fun. Worst case scenario, I always had the library. Nowadays, I have nothing. Nothing but this stupid need (Or want?) for company. I want friends. People I can talk to. People I'm comfortable around (I told you I'm becoming pathetic). These days, I don't even recognize my own voice anymore. Any social interaction I have is a forced, albeit impressively put on, performance. Day to day, I find ways to cope. The internet has provided some relief, with this blog and things of that nature, but it's a cheap imitation of life. At best.

I'm 18. I finally made it to university. My life was supposed to start now, but I'm still waiting. For what? I have no clue.

Walking the walk like only the dead can,

PS - Say something. Anything you want.

She A'aight, Sunn.

2010-12-12T11:31:00.000-08:00

Why not? Exactly.

(I know this isn't a topic that is usually spoken about, at least not publicly, but this is my blog and what I'm writing today is not being written with the intent to hurt, offend or marginalize anyone. I'm trying out this "honest" approach to writing, and if I can educate or help someone out in the process, then cool. If not, I hope we can agree to disagree with respect and peace.)

Recently, I've been at a writing standstill of sorts. What generally happens is that I'll hear or read about something I find to be relevant to Kuwait, and then I'll want to blog about it. Sounds simple, right? WRONG. Every time I try to sit down and come up with something that is cohesive, poignant and informative, I fall terribly short. One of the primary reasons for this goes back to my fluency (or lack thereof) in Arabic. Long story short, I'm lacking in resources that I can actually use, and it's frustrating to say the least.

So, since I can't blog about some of these more "relevant" topics from a purely factual point (to which I would then add my educated opinion on the matter), I've decided I'll try something new, something a bit more... vulnerable? I'm not entirely sure if that last word is an accurate description of this new angle I'm going for, but we'll see. My new approach will see me discussing my interpretation of current topics, how I've come across them and what they are to me. Simple? I hope so.

Today's topic has to do with something I regrettably felt while reading a fellow blogger's post about recent events that occurred in Kuwait. The post was lengthy, but written very well, so I was engrossed, to say the least. Towards the end of the post, there was mention of Shi'ite MPs, and the blogger discussed some of this sect's history and what not. It wasn't a major component of article, but it was there. It was enough, as they say. Enough to... irritate me.

I don't have words that can describe how disgusted I am with myself as I write this... For no apparent reason, and certainly without good cause, I slowly but surely began to feel a small bubble of animosity rise in me as I read the few sentences that mentioned Shi'ites. I was caught off guard; growing up, my parents never instilled any "We are Sunna, they are Shi'ite" mentality in me. In fact, religion was rarely ever brought up, apart from the standard basics: prayer, Ramadan, reading from the Quran on Fridays.... that was pretty much it. Both my parents are medical professionals; neutrality is the name of their game. That got me thinking: if these feelings of hostility weren't got from my background or upbringing, then where did they come from? I just found it so surprising that I, The Expatess, a politically correct Canadian (It's what we're famous for) with agnostic tendencies had these feelings within her. The worst part was that they came up without any real cause. Just the mention of the "other sect" of Islam was enough to stir up these very alarming emotions. I was, and still am, dissappointed in myself for that momentary (albeit subconscious?) loathing. A strong word, but I'm trying to be honest here in hopes I'm raising awareness about prejudice most of us don't realize we have. From the reflection I've done on the matter, I believe that while it's not explicitly said out loud, there is enough of a whisper about Shi'ites in the Sunna communities to be heard. While it won't affect daily interactions or (hopefully) friendships and relationships, I worry about its effect on a macroscopic level. Were I any less of a person, I would have possibly embraced this silly hatred. Then someday, when I've grown up and found myself in a position of power, my subconcious bias WILL affect decisions I make, decisions that could affect many people. Decisions that could harm many people, for no reason other than their beliefs. My subconscious could easily override my conscience, and crimes against humanity could occur. This is how injustice is bred; slowly, surely and quietly.

It's a scary thought.

Wondering if you can hear her now,

PS - The floor is yours, I'd love for some feedback on this from anyone and everyone.

PPS - On a lighter note, my Mom thinks I wrote this post because I have a crush on a Shi'ite guy. Mothers... :p

WE WON!!11!!!Eleven!!!!111

2010-12-05T11:58:00.000-08:00

This would look AWESOME in a dewaniya.

Our boys (Hands off the one in gray).

S.

PS - Number 22, Al Khaldi? Call me.

Sunny Side Up

2010-12-02T11:44:00.000-08:00

He whips it back & forth, real hard.

(I find this article's summary of the game very... humorous.)

While I'm over the moon about tonight's victory, I feel as though I need to point out that it was only the semi-finals. Not that the people outside my window seem to care; from all the honking I hear, Kuwait is definitely counting their chickens a bit early. Oh well. Who am I to begrudge people a little fun? The cops should make a killing with tickets tonight, so I guess there is a silver lining to all this. Hold those street hooligans accountable!

Iraq played well, but our boys definitely turned things up after an hour into the game. That's pretty much all I can say about the game. I'm still new to this watching-sports-willingly thing. I'm surprised to say this, but since catching World Cup fever back in June, I've really taken to watching soccer. Maybe it's because it makes me feel like a part of something., and it's something both my family and I enjoy. Or maybe it's because soccer players are hot. Either or.

Speaking of hot, I want to add that Fahad Al Anizi's hair is awesome. I'm dead serious. I think I'm going to call into Marina FM and dedicate Willow Smith's "Whip My Hair" to him as soon as I'm over this cold. Speaking of which, is not fun. Every 6-8 weeks, I'm hit with a crippling bout of the flu and this round has been particularly horrid. I've even lost my voice, which would have been tragic except for the fact I've also lost my phone, so the universe has taken care of things for me. It's all about the cosmic balance folks...

Iraq, The Expatess' thoughts are with you and your team. Well played and you've done the Middle East proud. Better luck next time mates.

Always and forever kickin' it her way,

S.

PS - Can someone tell me exactly why our national team's color is blue? Seriously confused about this one.

When Two Worlds Collide II

2010-12-01T13:52:00.000-08:00

Remember back in August, when my uncanny ability to tie in my Western upbringing with my Eastern background lead me to this conclusion? Since I've got nothing better to do (Well, that's a lie but I don't feel like doing my biology paper right now), I've found yet another silly overlap. This time it's in the form of two baby-faced crooners from two very different corners of the globe.


American Idol (2008) runner up, David Archuleta


Qusay Hatem Al Iraqi, Hatem Al Iraqi's son

Freaky? You bet. They could almost be brothers.

Upgrading her intellectual iTunes,

S.

PS - What cultural overlaps have you recently come across?

Oh! Canada.. (Really?)

2010-11-21T05:19:00.000-08:00


Forget recycling; this is patriotism folks. THIS.

"إنت و اخوك على على ولد عمك, إنت و ولد عمك على الغريب"

Now, it's no big secret that Canada (and Canadians) are often taken lightly. Our (yes, OUR) culture and identity are frequently mocked, ridiculed and degraded by just about anyone. Today, I found myself in the midst of an all too familiar scenario: Several people talking smack about Canada around me. Me, The Expatess, a fiercely loyal Canadian (if only in spirit these days). Without any substantial argument made, all my Kuwaiti peeps could really do was refer back to how "lame" Canada was. How we are insignificant, lacking in a bloody history of unwarranted wars, how we don't own any weapons of mass destruction, how we pronounce it "Aboot".... All I can say is, REALLY? This is why you don't like Canada? Or maybe, it's just fun to make Canadians fume when you ridicule their country?

I don't mind the jokes and ridicule; Canada's history speaks for itself, and our identity as a fair and just nation is well-known and irrefutable. Therefore, whenever ever people feel the need to wage a war of words against my true love, Canada, I am more than well armed. But the thing is, my problem with this has nothing to do with Canada. Opponents of Canada gain momentum by pointing out the things Canada ISN'T. If I were to point out the things Kuwait IS, I'd be facing a hoard of very angry (and rather hypocritical) Kuwaitis.The same Kuwaitis who mock other Kuwaitis, who mock their own culture, their own youth, their own people. Okay.

Lesson of the day: We'll mock you, but you can't mock us. Unless you're one of us. Preferably a first class citizen. Literally.

Keeping her mouth shut for the sake of maple syrup,

PS - Any thoughts?

Blow 'Em

2010-11-19T10:48:00.000-08:00

That's "Birthday Sheikha" to you.

Today is the 19th day of the 11th month of 2010, the last year of this decade. Coincidentally, it also marks the beginning of a somewhat relevant countdown. In exactly three months time, my next birthday rolls around. Now, there isn't anything particularly relevant about this age; as a matter of fact, it's a rather obscure number, one that is seldom brought up or spoken of. As teens, we look forward to our 18th birthday because it marks our induction into adulthood, the next phase of life. After which, 20 (Or 21, if you're fond of consuming alcohol legally) is usually the next milestone. From there on, it all seems to go downhill, but that's another post for another time when I'm old and no longer have anything to look forward to other than blogging. Wait...
Laughs aside, I am genuinely excited about my upcoming birthday. Last time around, my plans fell through. By "fell through" I mean I missed my own birthday dinner. Relatively speaking, that was a rather tragic event. Moving on, I still don't know what I want to do on the day, if I end up doing anything at all. The reason it carries some slight significance is due to the fact *fingers crossed*, it may (will) be my last birthday as a full-time inhabitant of Kuwait, as a KUer, as someone who can still drive down to her dreaded old high school. Yes folks, The Expatess had a (kind of) horrendous high school experience. However, that's the past and a better Irish future lies ahead, so let's move on. Here's a list (Notice the current trend of list making?) of things I'm looking forward to as I approach my roarin' 20s:

Becoming a woman - Now in the Middle East, that's kind of a catch-22 but I'm working on it. Independence is sometimes a struggle, but one day at a time, right?
Age and its connotations - However juvenile I may sometimes feel, the reality is that the older I become, the less time I have to spend with simple minded teenagers. At 19, I can chill with adults and not have it be creepy. Well, not as creepy.
Le Culture - The closer I get to 20, the closer I am to all the.... let's say "fun", that the 20+ are (in)famous for.
Mannequin Hands - The older I get, the more fashion options I have. Yes, I had the attitude to pull of a studded blazer, but it still looked ridiculous when I was 12. Now, not so much. It's a menial joy, but I love sophistication.
FedEx - Voting, driving, hanging out with whomever we want, going out alone.... Who doesn't love these freedoms we often take for granted?
Rent! - One day closer to a future in which I am living somewhere that is NOT Kuwait (Cuba or Italy or France or.. Okay, I'll stop) and ALONE. Blame the "Oldest Child Syndrome," but I need the next 5 years of my life to be shrouded in silence. Preferably European silence.

Working the exchange rate to her advantage,

S.

PS - How do you feel about birthdays? Let me know in the comments below if you miss anything from your past days, or whether you're looking forward to something in the future.

Just For Kicks

2010-11-18T07:43:00.000-08:00

Because I love my blog, and miss having something cohesive to write, I've decided I shall try to get out of this current funk I'm in by dusting off some obscure blog tag and doing it just for kicks. An added bonus? You might just learn a thing or two about The Expatess in the process.

Enjoy.

Lasts:

Last birthday? February 19th, 2010. I turned 18.
Last meal? Some Syrian dish my Mom made with a salad. (No, NOT tabbouleh).

Last spending splurge? A Julien McDonald dress 3 weeks ago. (I love it).

Last time you cried? Last week.
Last career? Haven't carved one out yet. I'm a student.
Last website visited? cbc.ca
Last person you spoke to? My mother.
Last song you listened to? Bloodstream - Stateless

Last book you read? 1984.
Last TV show watched? 30 Rock.
Last person you texted? One of my best friends, Fatima.
Last word you said? Okay.

I tag: Anyone and everyone. Respond on your blog and link me, or just respond in the comments below. I love hearing from anyone who reads this thing.

3rd Time's The Charm?

2010-11-15T15:19:00.000-08:00

I love you Colin, I swear I love you.

After a stressful fortnight of midterms, anxiety, nightmares and all around depression, Eid break has finally rolled around and graced us all with some much needed rest. Might I add not a moment too soon, because I literally walked out of my last midterm with blurry eyes and a heavy tongue. Blame the toxic fumes of KU textbooks. Or the lack of sleep. Or the constant abuse of caffeine. Who knows?

After spending a lovely Thursday afternoon with my parents (lunch & Avenues), catching up with friends (Skype & Wataniya) and then reading 1984 again (I can't get enough of this book! LOVE) I realized something: I like life. I don't love it, not yet anyways, but I've warmed up to it. Especially since the weather cooled down. Before I move on, let me just say that Kuwait's weather has been nothing short of scenic lately. The Expatess definitely approves. A lot.
Moving on, in between the slumber, lounging around and trips to a secret bookstore, I find myself with very little time to indulge in my favorite past time: Twitter.
Uncharacteristically, I went almost 4 whole days without a single Tweet, or cheat (where you login, but don't Tweet). This is what I did during those four days:

Took my two brothers and the driver on a 95 minute adventure, driving up and down a street, looking for a small independent bookstore I heard about through a friend.
Found the bookstore (which is beyond words) and bought 1984 and The Scarlet Letter. They didn't have One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. A tragedy of the grandest proportions? It is.
Watched The Diary of Bridget Jones in bed (and under the covers!) and sighed over Colin Firth.
Did my nails. Currently sporting "Mannequin Hands" (Inglots color #842).
Spent a combined 5 hours agonizingly building an Asalah Nasri playlist on my iTunes. It's confusing; I blame the Arabic language and lack of willingness to illegally share music in the Middle East. (Don't look at me like that; I'd download a car if I could).
Sat on my bedroom floor, in my pajamas, and just thought about things.
Basically spent an entire day in bed. In my defense, it was Friday,
Won a debate with my Dad about the negative (my stance) impact the Islamic Revolution had on Kuwait. This deserves an "Ayabah" (It's a local Kuwaiti exclamation of victory).
Spent some quality time, alone. Not possible when you have Twitter; I hate being "connected" all the time. I enjoy my solitude. I've missed my own company as of late... I should do something about that. Soon.
Ate badly for a bit, felt a bit guilty and then got over it.
As a result of 10, picked up the gym habit again. The things we do for health...
Tried going back to FaceBook. Never again.
Had a brief "I want to go back to hating everyone and everything FULL TIME" moment, but worked through it. Can I get an "Amen"? A "Praise Jesus"? No? Fine.
Put on a face mask and brushed my hair 100 strokes (each side) with my fancy expensive brush.
Figured out how to make a home-made Frappe. It tasted pretty good, and was guilt-free. Okay, political-guilt-free.
Cleaned out my closet, got rid of a ton of junk, gave away about 70% of my clothes and redecorated.... a bit. Okay, I got a light bulb for my lamp.
Laid in bed for a good hour listening to "Lovefool" by The Cardigans.
Discovered that the battery in my MacBook Air won't charge. A trip to iCity is in my future. Shoot me.
Thought about Tweeting.

All I can conclude from my mini-vacation-within-a-vacation is this: Tweeting proves we exist; not Tweeting proves we are living.

Happy in her bubble for one,

PS - Have you given up anything lately? Give me the What/When/Why/Who and the Where.... but only if it's appropriate. Yes, #lolwut indeed.

Chug This Truth

2010-11-04T06:05:00.000-07:00

Barbican; the drink in question.

HALLAL

HARAM

Hypocrisy at its best.

I can't decide whether these corporate monkeys think we're really that stupid, or whether this is what we want, because apparently beer culture is so popular, that it has taken root in the Middle East. The Islamic Middle East. The same region of the world that still practices honor killings, stoning and polygamy. Yep, that's the one.

To set the record straight, I am very much a member of the "Live & Let Live" party. If you're not doing anything harmful to yourself or anyone else, then the best of luck to you. As people, we're all born with free will and the ability to make choices. The factors that influence those choices is another topic entirely, but at the end of the day, we always have a choice. Not to say it's always an easy choice, or if there even is a "right' choice. However, I digress...
Barbican. I remember this drink from when I was a kid, seeing the adverts on MBC (Back when it was only one channel), and staring in awe at all that testosterone-fueled fun. Now, this is what's up; anyone who knows me from any platform in life knows I like to have a good time. I like to just kick it with friends, do pointless things, if only for the heck of it. A buzz kill I am not. However, why not represent the female youth of the Middle East? Surely, we can find time in between all the laundry and labor to have a fun-filled weekend with the girls, no? Is it too much to ask, to see some equal representation of young women in the Middle East? The most frustrating part is that we are either represented in a terrible light (Headline: Father kills Muslim daughter for running away, etc.) or stuck with no representation at all. This attitude only further fuels the West's negative image of us, and why wouldn't it? It's not like anyone out there is doing anything to prove then wrong. We seem to be oppressed, neglected, and like the masochists we must be... We are enjoying it. All the while, advertising agencies continue to glorify men by serving up what can only be described as beer without the sins. Seriously?
Bottom line: This isn't an attack against men; it's a protest aimed at advertising agencies that uphold tired and drawn-out stereotypes. This is a plea from one Middle Eastern... OK, Canadian/Kind Of Arabic woman, to any woman reading it out there: We need to fight this together. Something needs to change, and it should start with us. Women.

Next week, I'm unzipping Queen Rania's pants. I'm am so over her, you have no idea.

(Here's a video montage of the drink's commercials. Frankly, I'm quite tired of this glorified image of Khaleeji bachlerdom. How about some equality to go with that brew?)

This has been the first installment of "Taking The Pants Off Patriarchy". Hope it was good for you too.

Asking you to line her eyes not poke them out,

S.

PS - Let me know what how you feel about Barbican and what it represents. You know where the comments are.

Scent Of A Woman

2010-11-02T01:35:00.000-07:00

My *favorite* scent for men & women.

I've been on something of a creative-writing kick lately, and so I thought I'd share a piece I drafted in my mind last week during a particularly dull Chemistry class. I haven't done any writing with the intent of serving it up to the masses as ficition for a while, so here goes:

The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above sang the tales of a weekend I would have preferred to forget. Drums pounded in my head, and a symphony of nerves strung away at my heart. I looked like a mess, felt like a mess, even breathed like a mess. Trying my hardest to slowly draw in a a breath of the air around me, without taking in any of the sorrow or worry. Those things made me sick. Their bitter taste would lie in my throat for days, trickling down just a little each day, leaving me constantly on the verge of throwing up.

Today's hangover felt different. It felt necessary; my senses needed to be dulled if I was going to make it through today. Through what was about to happen.

It was the way the dull fluorescent light made it gleam. My heart stopped beating ages ago, but I felt fear slowly walk down my spine. I shifted in my seat, hoping that insignificant movement would fix things, maybe even change what I had just saw, but it didn't. She slowly pulled it out of her handbag. She was armed. This was her defense, how she was going to reel them in. What she didn't realize was that it was going to scare them off; once it hit them, they would run for the hills. BOOM. The first time felt unnatural faulty; she had forgotten what she'd practiced. BOOM. The second time, her hand took to it a little more, the trigger warming to her touch. BOOM.BOOM.BOOM. Her courage was rising, things began to feel familiar, even natural. BOOM. People took notice. BOOM. Her presence was finally felt. BOOM.

Eight spritzes of "Obsession" by Calvin Klein was a bit much, but she hadn't had time to change. She was still in clothes she wore Friday. We were hungover on a Monday morning.

PS - Excuse the grammar, punctuation, flipping back and forth between the tenses and pronoun use... It's a mess, but I had an urge to write some fiction. Enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments below.

Running On Fear

2010-10-30T09:20:00.000-07:00

Once again, marketing makes fools of us all

Today, I woke up to face my first midterm of the year. Honestly? I can't remember being this nervous about anything to do with school or grades in a long time. Once upon a time, The Expatess was a star student. Someone people thought I would end up in Harvard in 10 years, and the White House in 30. (Maybe 25... I've got a way with words). I used to be that annoying kid with the perfect grammar who excelled at almost every subject (struggled with Math), was adored by the teachers and faculty and just all around very easy to hate. Those times are long gone.

The stability I enjoyed early in my childhood years vanished sometime during middle school. I went from country to country, school to school, culture to culture.... After a while those things take a toll on you. The subjects I was naturally good at remained within my grasp, but anything requiring dedication and time (Math) fell right through the cracks of my fragile young sanity. Long story short, my star dimmed after grade seven and I found myself dragging along in both school and life, all at once barely making it and yet somehow remaining distinguished. I hated the latter, because all it ever did was remind me that I was letting myself down. Letting me know every minute of every day that I had more potential than I gave myself credit for. However, I was too caught up in my indifference to care. It's strange how the more you see of the world, the less you're likely to believe in it.

Past chagrin aside, one of the main reasons I was pumped for KU (Well, the only reason really) was that it was undeniably the mark of a fresh start. I got my acceptance, got into the major I need to get to Ireland, I have great professors.... All the pieces, that I tore apart with my own stubborn hate, have begun to fall into place. Don't get me wrong, there's still a lot of confetti to pick up off the floor, but it's a start. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm using my potential. I'm taking life by the horns, and carving out a destiny I want for myself. Amazing, really. To realize that while success does not mean happiness, they are both things you control. I just can't get over how I'm actually spending each day bringing myself closer to the things I want in life. Sure, I'd love to be an English Lit major but I'm not exactly giving up a lot by going to medical school.

The point of this whole lengthy and wishy-washy post is this: When it comes to rock bottom, failure, lost potential etc. there was no one who beat me at that. I was the best at being the worst. But you know what? I got my act together and so can you. One of the few great things about life is that it's not static. Change is inevitable, you have control over your own life, so change it to what you want it to be. Just get up and do it. You have no future, and the past is gone. Seize the day and make it your own. I think I'm starting to understand what if feels like to be happy. Maybe.

By the way, I didn't really come to this conclusion on my own. Someone much ballsier than I am helped me see the light. I owe him a Guinness at some point in the future.

Counting her quids and ready to tip,

PS - I totally rocked the midterm today. Thank you flashcards, diligence and zero social life. Let me know in the comments below something you've recently rocked to the heavens and back.

Foga/Ta7ta/Over It

2010-10-29T06:31:00.000-07:00

Know the type?

In the Middle East, we like to do things if only to irritate certain members of said community. Certain Feminist members. Certain things like glorying the idiocy of male youth. We like to depict their lifestyles as exciting sand-drenched adventures that only add to their boyish appeal. Oh, their reckles ways, with their free days spent jet-skiing with their buddies, and having a barbeque later that night as they all gather round for laughs and good ol' fashioned uber-male talk of how many girls they've "scored". Suffice to say, I'm hardly amused.

MTV Arabia, a branch of the MTV family catered towards the Middle East, constantly glorify the bachelor lifestyle of young Khaleeji men. It disgusts me how they continually portray what is straight-up douchery as "innocent fun", classified under the "Boys will be boys" heading in society's bullshit manifesto. Another major aspect of this biased portrayal ofcan be found within the carbonated beverage industry: Barbican. Oh, yes. My paranoia knows no end.

I'll end this post here, as I've decided to develop this into a series (one of several) aimed at exposing bias that I am sick of. I'll be picking up this one-sided conversation next week, and my first victim shall be the aforementioned beverage.

To quotes my first Pop love, Gwen Stefani, "I'll be happy for you, if you can be happy for me too". If you want to support their lifestyle and choices, fine. The least society could do is even the playing field and grant me the freedom to act like an idiot when I feel like it.

Oh, and the name of this series is "Taking the Pants Off Patriarchy". No, the applause isn't necessary...

Wishing they'd live and let others try,

PS - What part of society do you feel often get off too easily?

Boys Boys Boys

2010-10-24T13:59:00.000-07:00

Embody everything mentioned in this song, and I'll meet you at the aisle...

No lengthy intro today; I read this, found it amusing and then decided that as a Feminist trying to create equality in Kuwait, I should compile my own version of this list. Here goes:

Real Guys: These guys are your buddies; gender does not exist around these guys because they're your friends. Laughs, jokes and advice are the bread and butter of these relationships. They'll always make you smile. I love them like family, and adore them like a schoolgirl.

The Bell Boys: Very sweet, overly kind and considerate. They'll carry your books, pick up pens you've dropped and more. All these things make it even more difficult to let them know there's no future there. Be careful not to use them to simply tend to your ego or boost your own self-esteem. People are not meant to be used like toys. I'm a bad person, and so I try to protect these people from myself, because they don't deserve to deal with my issues.

The Untouchables: These are guys you respect and admire, but there's really nothing like that there. Take in their wisdom, and learn what you can from them. They're something of a one-way road, so don't over think things. These guys confuse me, end of story.

The Smoking Guns: Last but not least, we have them. Oh yes, these guys are dangerous in every sense of the word. They'll change the way you think, the way you see the world. Speaking to them will be a rush, only matched by the intensity in which they keep up intellectually. At first glance, they're not your "type", but they'll make themselves your type. Be wary of them, or they'll wear you down. Also, they are very, very rare so think carefully about where you want to take things with them.

Suffice to say, human relationships both fascinate and confuse me. Also, I love boys. Do you see my dilemma?

Taking aim at her (alleged) intimacy issues,

PS - Comment and below and let me know what you think. Recognize anyone off the list, perhaps yourself?

**Don't take this post too seriously, we still live in Kuwait. If you did, then let me be the first to tell you, you are a douche.**

Last Laughs

2010-10-19T08:57:00.000-07:00

Today is a sad day for comedy, Kuwait and The Expatess. It was reported that Kuwaiti comedian Ghanem Al Saleh passed away early this morning in London after losing his battle to cancer. You can read more about the details in this article here, as it would be dull and redundant for me to merely regurgitate what is already floating around the internet at this point.

I'm not writing this post in a bid to say my few words of Arabic condolences, or to try to submerge myself in what's happening in Kuwaiti culture. I'm writing this post because as a young girl growing up abroad, the only (small) window I had into Kuwait was the television. While we all know that the portrayals of Kuwaitis in the numerous soaps that circulate all the MBCs, ARTs and Orbits are not an accurate reflection of life in Kuwait or its fine folk, it was the only real link I had to my roots while living out a childhood in North America during the Nineties. I'm not going to go into detail as to why I wasn't more "aware" of my Kuwaiti background growing up (That's for another more appropriate time), but I'm thankful Mr. Al Saleh was a part of my life. I'm thankful he made me laugh during many Ramadans. He taught me how to furiously flip a ghutra, how to express outrage in a deliciously melodramatic way only an Arab man can. He showed off the hilarity of Khaleejis in foreign vacation spots, and made us all laugh at own cultural missteps. He founded a theater troupe, was a pioneer of his time, brought joy to many hearts, educated dozens and will be missed greatly.

For all the laughs, all the nasfas and all the memories, I wish you peace and happiness where ever you may now be Ghanem.

Bidding London one last bye bye,

Standing In Lines

2010-10-19T01:32:00.000-07:00

Random update: Currently craving this. Deal with it.

It's about 11:00 a.m. and I'm stuck in KU's library with nothing better to do than attemtp to get some work done/entertain myself with their beyond crippled internet connection. I am so bored right now that I decided I should take this pent-up frustration I have and blog. To add insult to injury, I get to blog about my disdain for KU from the university itself. At this point, it's little victories like this that help me get through each day...Well that and diet coke but that's less to do with my boredom and more to do with my caffiene addiction. *Cue eye twitch*

When I made my blog, I had originally intended to use it to spread a message of sorts, but now after almost three months since I started it I've lost track of what the message was meant to be. I am in the midst of something of an identity crisis at the moment, and it's frustrating trying to distinguish the inner root of my problem from the apparent root, which would seemingly be KU. I say this because I never wanted this blog to be a viral dedication to my life, a digital diary if you will. I wanted to stir up controvery and create social change, a legacy I would leave behind once I got all the credits I need to transfer to Ireland for medical school....I had plans.

These days, I find myself in something of a dilemma. I am able to see a future for myself that extends beyond next month, but day-to-day I have no idea what to do with myself. Whether it's the lack of interest in my subjects, the dullness of KU or the sad reality that their library has not a single work of fiction, I don't know. All I know is that I'm somewhat lost these days.

In other news, Scope TV was under attack a few days ago, and I'm interested to see how things play out and what story the media will come up with to explain away this little "incident".

Killing time in this punk-ass library,

PS - Let me know in the comments below how you've been feeling these days and let's toast to our united disillusionment.

The Good Stuff

2010-10-15T10:47:00.000-07:00

You can do it Kuwait!

Today, October 15th is Blog Action Day. The international community of bloggers will be coming together and participating in this event where they all write about a united topic. This time around the topic is water.

Unfortunately, this has been one hell of a busy week with university and so I didn't have a chance to prepare a lengthy, self-righteous and most-likely obnoxious post in which I would shame you all for choosing to drink Evian and not caring enough about the droughts around the world. 'Tis life, and so all I really have to offer on this day is a bit of insight, some advice and maybe leave you with a few questions you should ask yourself next time you are privileged enough to have a drink of clean water.

Living in Kuwait, most are well aware of how precious clean drinking water is. We are lucky enough to have a government that has access to enough resources to provide us with this elixir that sustains all life. However, many nations are not so fortunate. A myriad of reasons keep water out of hands of those who need it the most, and it often boils down to money and politics. Pun intended.

Our planet being what it is, we should all aim to try our best in putting forth and effort when it comes to preserving the water we do have. Below are some tips you could consider adding to your daily routine:

A "Navy-style" shower: Turning on the water, getting wet, and then turning it off while you scrub down and lather up your hair. Once you're ready to rinse, turn on the water and zoom!!! You'll avoid wasting precious water in those minutes you're not actually using it. Also, try to keep it UNDER 10 minutes in length, and the planet will thank you.
Thoughtful Brushing: Similar to the previous tip, turning off the faucet while you're brushing your teeth. It may not seem like much, but it makes a difference when you consider the fact most people brush their teeth for 3-5 minutes a day, twice a day.
Fancy Pants Water? No thanks! Instead of using up an endless stream of plastic water bottles and harming the environment, consider buying a cute and colorful reusable bottle. It'll brighten up your day, and help you monitor how much of the good stuff you are taking in, so you'll avoid unintentional dehydration and stay on top of your health.

For further inquiries into this matter, look no further than the site itself, which you can visit by clicking here.

For a mind opening article about the devious business behind water companies (written by a modern day Rocker!), click here.
From one of Kuwait's own, an informative set of facts and a deeper look into the political aspect of this topic can be found here.

I hope I've given you something to think about and some useful tips you can implement in your day-to-day life. I know sometimes we, regular people, can feel fairly helpless when it comes to big serious issues like the global demand for water, but any small step taken brings us that much closer to a more just world.
For further reading (and let's be honest, better posts), visit the site which i've linked above and empower yourself to make a difference.

Putting her generation's digital age to use,

S.

Tell me if you participated in the even or your thought about this topic in the comments below. I'd love to hear your opinion.

It's Funny Because It's True. And Sad.

2010-10-10T13:38:00.000-07:00

**Disclaimer: This a REAL conversation that ACTUALLY took place. You can't make this shit up unless you're an Arab version of Tina Fey.***

My Brother: "Where can I buy work-out gloves from? You know for weights and stuff.."

Me: "You should go to that huge sports supply store in Hawalli, what's it called? Oh! Naif's Sport Supply."

Brother: "You mean Nasser's Sport's Supply store?"

Me: "No, you're thinking of Nasser's Chicken. Sheesh, and you call yourself a Kuwaiti..."

Packing my bags as we speak,

PS - I'm sick today, and therefore miserable, so if you read this comment and let me know how your life is worse than mine at the moment. If possible.

A Vote For The Future

2010-10-03T11:04:00.000-07:00

"Scientia potentia est (For also knowledge itself is power)"

Sir Francis Bacon

Today was the first day of the elections at every campus affiliated with Kuwait University. The handasa majors put down the protractors, med-students ditched the cadavers and the ever ubiquitous business majors abandoned their BlackBerries as they stood in line in the sweltering midday heat, waiting for their turn to exercise their right to vote and support the party that fell in line with what they believe KU (and Kuwait) should stand for.
At this point it's no secret that I am a raging Feminist, and believe in a FULL level of equality between men and women. Before I continue, and for the record, my hatred of men has little to do with my Feminist antics and more to do with the assholes who feel the need to smoke inside KU's buildings, despite very clear signs that prohibit such behavior. You are not bad ass. You are an idiot. You are a male.... I digress; so after a bit of cautious poking and prodding, a little investigative work and heaps of simple observation, I voted for the "Istilafya" party. On the ballot, they are categorized under religious/conservative, which has lead to several people cry out against my choice to support this particular party. Apparently, as a Feminist it would have made more sense for me to burn my bras and protest against whatever misogynist occurrence I felt like having a go at for that day (Believe me, there's plenty to choose from in KUckooland).

I never justify the things I do, but I will explain my choice this once because it's rather shocking how narrow minded and short-sighted people can be when it comes to elections and casting your vote. In this case, I spent the majority of my first week doing several things: Walking around and discovering KU's campus, trying to learn about Kuwait's youth culture from observation and last but certainly not least, I observed each party and weighed on the things I saw them doing before my own two eyes. Photocopies of sold-out textbooks, directions, the girls taking you to whatever class you had next....the Istilafiya girls left nothing to be wanted of them, which is a rarity when it comes to school/university politics. They are there for their female colleagues, END OF STORY. What people won't realize is that despite Kuwait's push for women to seek an education, the system still works against them. The minimum GPA's for any major differ between male and female applicants, with the minimum always being higher for females. The lion's share of priority and attention leans in toward the direction of the male student body, with them very much at the forefront of everything. As a Feminist, of course it didn't please me to see the girls running around doing the dirty work while the men buffed their Ray Bans and (further) inflated their egos by shouting fascist propaganda bullshit through megaphones. However, if it takes this Feminist voting for a conservative party to ensure that all her female colleagues needs are met, and that they graduate university with degrees in their hands, so then be it. Feminism is not some stupid romanticized Julia Roberts' movie; it is the fight to ensure women have access to all that men have, and that they are not treated or dismissed as though they are second-rate citizens. It is a fight I will always stand up for, no matter what I have to do.
If you still don't understand why I voted for the party I did, then you know nothing about what Feminism truly is.

Swinging a deal with a devil in a dishdasha,

S.

Countdown To Lockdown

2010-09-25T11:28:00.000-07:00

Get it? I'll be imprisoned by my desire for an education.

Today it all ends, only to begin all over again. In this moment, as I sit here typing this, everything is everything. Tomorrow, everything will become nothing and I'll start over.

Today is officially the last day of Summer 2010. It has been a ridiculously crazy and insane four months. I've learned a lot about myself, life and Kuwait. Well, not really but it sounds nice to pretend I actually did. Jokes aside, I did spend a lot of time just reflecting on who I am, whether she's who I want to be and what I can do to bring the two closer together. I suppose that's the hardest part about this whole transition, trying to reconcile who I am with societal expectations. For some reason, I feel as though I have to make a good impression in Kuwait. Maybe it has something to do with the country being so small, word (good OR bad) traveling so fast or my habit of turning everything into a dirty joke. Maybe it has to do with the fact I don't know anyone, at all (All my classmates are being GUSTed, whatever the hell that means).

Did you buy that? Yeah, neither did I. I mean as someone who attended 11 different schools in several different countries, I'm not really worried.
THAT is what is freaking me out, more than anything else. Well, that and the fact that KU's benches look like a tetanus deathtrap.

Thanking the good Lord for vaccines,

S.

PS - Tell me about your University experiences and/or expectations. Misery loves company.

Sit The Hell Down

2010-09-22T21:14:00.000-07:00

Let's pretend they use these in KU

And listen to my rant. Please & thank you in advance.

Kuwait University opens it's Hell gates in 4 days and counting. Do you see the problem with this? I am not prepared. As I type this, my heart is racing and my head is pounding. I'm playing out several awkward social scenarios in my head on loop, anticipating hellish professors and trying to figure out how far I can make it out of Kuwait before my parents realize that S. isn't home. My guess? Not very far. Kuwait is stupidly small country, with an even stupider and smaller society. Your next door neighbor got a haircut? Check your phone, because I already sent you a text about it yesterday. News spreads that fast in Kuwait. So that means even if I do make it to Bahrain (Which is, let's admit it, an extension of Salmiya), they'll have dragged me back home in time for my first lecture. Great.

Seeing as how I can't escape this social apocalypse, here's my plan for the (HOPEFULLY) one year I will spend as a student at KU. It hurts just typing that last bit.

Speak to no one
Only listen to someone with the power to grade my papers
Play dumb and deaf between classes
Drink 8 glasses of water a day
Get a BlackBerry so I can log onto Twitter in between and after classes. Oh, who am I kidding? During class too.

This system has never failed me. Yet.

Averting her gaze from the almighty coneheads,

S.

Time Flies, Drives, Drinks, and Smokes

2010-09-21T10:57:00.000-07:00

And drag races in the desert.... Wait no, that's just me when I pretend I'm a free bachelor in Kuwait. *Sigh*

Anyways, today (September 21) is my two-year anniversary since moving to Kuwait. Realizing I've actually been here two years started my day off on a depressing note (I miss Canada), but I got over it quickly enough when the housekeeper handed me my freshly ironed clothes for the day. It's the little things in life people, the little things....
Here's a list of things I thought were true when I first came to Kuwait:

**Disclaimer: It gets worse as you go down the list. I was young. Well, younger. **

Any guy who is nice, courteous and well-groomed MUST be gay - There's nothing wrong with being gay, but it's just ignorant to make assumptions.

Favorite show as a kid.

Everyone is related to everyone else - It's still kind of true. Don't deny it.

Kuwaiti families are *slightly* larger.

Nobody buys anything from Kuwait - Anytime I'd ask a girl where she got something (top, purse, etc.), the answer would be "Lundun".*Cue Eye Roll*

These were EVERYWHERE in high school. Ugh.

Everyone is filthy rich - My bad?

Somewhere, in some desert, near some oil-well, this is real.

We're all famous - In one way or another, everyone has an uncle in the National Assembly. Seriously?

Someday....

Marina Prison - I used to think only convicts hung out at Marina. Again, not entirely wrong...

Reminiscing, cringing and regretting a couple of things,

S.

PS - Tell me about anything you once believed was true, only to have time prove you wrong.

The Ugly Truth

2010-09-19T22:43:00.000-07:00

Despite the fact I did my very best to try and deny I was (part) Kuwaiti, it remains that I have always known this truth. While I will forever be Canadian and loyal to the country that gave me more than I could ever give it, I feel that now that they have Justin Beiber I can avert my gaze and focus on trying to shake up things in Kuwait.
My revolutionary plans aside, I've spent some time reflecting upon my childhood and have compiled a list of the clues I so desperately tried to ignore. It seems that you can leave Kuwait, but Kuwait will never leave you. I would know, as I've tried. Ahem.

Top Clues That You're a Kuwaitiya:

My childhood fascination with Cabaret and Drag Queens - A little known fact about me is that I've always been very much into makeup and glamor, and I still am to this day.


Cabaret stage makeup

"Kuwaiti-style" Makeup. Yikes.

The inner Diva in us ALL - I am, and always have been, a very strong woman. My non-Kuwaiti Mother claims I get it from my Dad's side of the family. The Kuwaiti side of the family. Coincidence?

We are all Oprah, and Oprah is us.

The glamor of Chai - The last five years have seen a marked rise in the popularity of a drink I have always been aware existed. Hipster S. was sipping on Chai before it was the "It" thing worldwide.

Use you imagination. Google has its limits.

Peter the Patriot - It's a very Kuwaiti thing to be patriotic, and while I do share your passion, I am unfortunately loyal to Canada. But, hey, let's all hold hands and sing national songs okay?

Can I have both?

Canadian, Kuwaiti and confused,

S.

Let me know in the comments below if you've ever noticed some overlap between Kuwait and any other cultures you've been a part of.

Elitist Ignorance

2010-09-18T22:08:00.000-07:00

Bu Qatada We Bu Nabeel (The Kuwaiti show in question)

The other morning I was hanging out with my mother in the living, just chatting and having coffee. I was getting ready to leave the house, and she had MBC1 on, watching a program that would be akin to the popular morning show on NBC, "The Today Show". MBC1's version was called "Sabah El Khair Ya Arab", which roughly translates to "Good Morning To All The Arabs". Well, I hope that's what it translates to as my Arabic better than I'll admit to, but worse than I care to acknowledge.

As a Canadian/Kuwaiti in denial, I rarely ever watch Arabic programming (Unless it's linked to Naif Al Rashed. Don't Ask.), however a specific news segment caught my attention and for all the wrong reasons. From what I understand, the Moroccan government was expressing outrage at the manner in which Morroccan women were portrayed in several Ramadan programs, including the Kuwaiti "Bu Qatada W Bu Nabeel". As I didn't watch the show while it aired during Ramadan, I can't say much about it from that perspective. However, I realized that within the Middle East there is a rather disgusting elitist mentality in that some Arabic/Muslim nations are better than others. As a funny woman myself, I appreciate and acknowledge comedy. I understand that sometimes regional humor is popular; in Canada some of the best jokes are about life in the Prairies, or The Maritimes, where I hail from.

My issue with this topic isn't that Kuwaiti TV folk were mocking another country and culture, they 've done it enough to a point where no one cares, but rather how the women of an entire country are pigeon-holed and dismissed as being "promiscuous" for the sake of entertainment. It is both irresponsible and disgusting, and the Moroccan government and public have every right to be upset about this. As a Feminist, I understand and realize how difficult it is to promote the advancement of women in this region of the world, as there is a culture and mentality that are very "old-fashioned" and traditional. Funnily enough, the makers of this show never considered writing an episode detailing how young men from the Gulf are well-known to indulge in all the sex tourism this planet has to offer. Once again, patriarchy and male ignorance cast a shadow on us all.

Trying to drink my coffee but repulsed beyond words,

Summer's One Hell Of A Season

2010-09-16T05:45:00.000-07:00

How beautiful and serene.

After much deep contemplation and personal reflection, I have decided to approach life from a new angle.

As the this summer draws to an end, I find myself spending lengthy amounts of time reflecting on everything that has taken place, all the way back from June 2, 2010 up to today, September 16, 2010. I can say with all honesty that this has been the strangest summer of my life. Graduating from high school, starting several long-term projects, beginning drafting a novel that I know will never get published.... The list goes on and on. Having spent so much time repeating the same mundane activities over and over again, I feel like something of a zombie. I look alive, I seem alive, but in actuality I really am quite dead.

Kuwait and it's good folk are notorious for their love of leisure, and the summer breaks here run quite a length of time. As of today, I have been in holiday for about 16 weeks, give or take a few. Math was never my strong point. Overall, 16 weeks translates into about four months, and let me tell you it definitely feels like it's been four months. I suppose it has to do with my childhood and growing up (We moved a lot), but now that I finally feel as though I have some stability in my life, I find myself feeling nothing short of stagnant.

Since I know no other methods, I have decided on doing something of a spiritual withdrawal. I plan on avoiding music, my iPod, television and to limit my internet use for the next month. I began this new plan this morning, and I'm doing superbly as evident from this post. Right.

Before I run off for a quickie bout of peaceful meditation, well as peaceful as it can get living in downtown Kuwait, I want you to tell me what you do when you begin to feel out of place or washed out. Do you pray, turn to music, maybe perhaps plan a weekend getaway? Let me know in the comments below, as I am in dire need of inspiration.

Oohing and aahing whilst stretchming and yawning,

S.

Shaken or Stirred?

2010-09-11T15:58:00.000-07:00

Either way, some things should not mix. Take for example, fire and lighter fluid or how about drinking and driving? Both situations can often lead to grisly outcomes, which takes me to my main point: dubbed TV series and/or movies. You know the ones I'm talking about.

Look, three years ago the whole "Mohaned & Nour" thing was cute and I played along because I thought the craze would fade away on its own. However, like that one really old plant we all have, this movement just won't die. I know this for a fact because I tried shooting it in the face, and...well I'm not allowed to discuss any details ahead of the trial. Yeah...

Laughs and such aside, I'm serious. What happened to books and reading? Reading seems to have been tossed aside, along with manners and grammar. These shows and movies are stupid, low brow and a waste of airtime. As if it wasn't bad enough they were dubbing Turkish shows in a Syrian dialect, they are now making them with Egyptian dialects. That's just cruel.

The worst part of this whole craze is that these shows aren't even popular in their native Turkey. Before I continue, let me just say that I don't think Arabic shows are any better. Unless they're made by Naif Al-Rashed (Don't ask). On the other hand, the Bollywood movies are slightly easier to stomach (Read: Less gag-worthy) because at least they're kitschy. They may lack quality, but the Khaleeji dialect they're dubbed in makes them humorous. Well, more humorous.

If we are to indulge in anything related to Bollywood, I find this to be the only acceptable form.

Dancing around a lone palm tree,

S.

Bad Drivers

2010-09-07T05:37:00.000-07:00

I miss the snow back home.

(I didn't even bother coming up with a catchy or clever title for this post. That's how unamused I am.)

Kuwait, you have some of the worst drivers I have ever seen in my life. For a group of people that live in a country where alcohol is prohibited, it's just inspiring to witness the dedication some people (read: GUYS) have to horrendous driving. Seriously? Six-lane highways and a decent infrastructure should mean driving in Kuwait = EASY and maybe perhaps FUN?

Yeah. Right.

Racing the yellow light and endangering the lives of others,

What is your least favorite thing about the roads and/or driving in "El Deera"?

Fallen Leaves

2010-09-01T00:59:00.000-07:00

It's that time of year again. It's September.

September (October when I was a kid, because it meant Halloween and candy) is my favorite month of the year, hands down. My Julys always play themselves out in colorful ways year after year, but that's a post for another time. Back to my point, I love September. Love it, adore it and eagerly anticipate its arrival every year. This year is particularly indulgent because I graduated from hell school (high school) this past June, and so that unfortunate cloud of gloom that would muddy September's lovely glow is forever gone from my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful I was born into a life that meant I have access to an education, but attending four different high schools does not make an already tumultuous process go by any smoother.

My favorite things about September in Canada are (read: were):

The leaves changing color. Walking to and from school was a visual feast bursting with golds, reds, oranges.....I really miss that.
Getting back to school, and just in time. At this point in the Summer, I've watched all the movies I can, read everything in sight and overstayed my welcome at the YMCA and nearby mall.
The advent of all my favorite TV shows airing again!
September is the ultimate countdown to all the best holidays: Halloween, Christmas, Hanukkah.
Terry Fox day.
It's cooled down enough to enjoy Tim Hortons again. I really miss Timmy Ho's....you can keep your Starbucks and Caribou Coffee.

So, yeah. I've been feeling very nostalgic lately and my enthusiasm for KU fluctuates like the fledgling stock market.....One day I'm pumped, and the next I'm worried. Time will tell how it goes, so I'm just going to file my worries away until September 26, and I'll report back and let the blogosphere know how it went.

What's your favorite month of the year, and why?

Raking the imaginary leaves,

Drowning in Nostalgia

2010-08-31T03:54:00.000-07:00

Some of the best moments of my life were set to the musical stylings of the Backstreet Boys.

Don't knock it, because Pop will never be lowbrow.
Unless you listen to crap, in which case I shall keep you in my prayers.

Takin' em to Church,

S.

PS - Everyone knows the words to at least one Backstreet Boys song, and that's been confirmed by Recent Studies.

Taking The Cake

2010-08-31T02:24:00.000-07:00

I'm not actually going to talk about brownies, or anything to do with baking for that matter. This is just a sneaky ploy attempted at attracting readers' attention.
In my time spent studying Kuwait and it's inhabitants, I've noticed something. Kuwaitis (Read: All Arabs) really, really like to eat. The love they express towards food is almost sacred. I mean, I enjoy eating. I like to look at pretty food. I'm a disaster in the kitchen, but that's alright as I don't really plan on cooking for anyone...anytime soon. I have a career to chase. However, I digress. What really I want to say is that it would be so beautiful if for just one day, one tiny particle in space and time, we were all as sweet to each other as those brownies are. I mean being kind to everyone. To our annoying siblings, our trying company, our tired maids, even to the freaks you go to school with. You never know, maybe that freak will someday grow up and start a blog. I don't know about you, but I'd love an honorable mention. Because I love attention like that.

If you were to be remembered for one thing, what would you want it to be?

Lacing up my metaphorical sneakers,

S.

Shattered Times

2010-08-30T00:35:00.000-07:00

Debbie Harry will always have a place in my heart. Despite her tiny frame, she's always been able to command any given stage with all the gusto of a drill sergeant. Everything about this performance blows me away. The vocals, Debbie's get-up, the lively audience....every second is worth the watch. Further proof I was born in the wrong generation, stick around and here what this majestic blond had to say in regards to the nuclear arms race of former years.

Warming up my icy heart to the sound of disco,

PS - I strongly dislike 90% of the topics/things my generation occupies themselves with. B....B....M....*Grinds teeth*

The Expat Files

Hello?

Au Revoir & Bonne Chance

In-N-Out

Jesus Christ

Napkin Corners

Zip It

That's A Wrap

Countdown

Grey Scales

Update Needed

Under Pressure

Sway

On Y Vas!

Cotton Mouth

Le Téléphone Arabe

White Witch

Sin + Mmms

Celebrations

Sparks

Verity

Dipping her fingers into your true colors,S. PS - Gay marriage has been legal in Canada since 2005... Just saying. PPS - Congrats to Beyonce on the release of her album today. It's an excellent piece of work. PPPS - This one was for you.

Stay Tuned

Top Hats

To Women As Far As I'm Concerned

D.H. Lawrence

PS - What do you do when you realize you don't like who you are, but you decide to keep her around anyways?

Wear It Well

Dynamite

Rhythm & Blues

Concepts & Rules

Moving

White Towels

Crowning

Jack-El-Ass (Only Arabic Readers Will Get This)

Foundations

Slice & Dice

ICU

So...

Good God

Nothing

Fibers

Because I Have To

Whispers

Labor Pains

V Day

Sharing Is Caring

VICTORY!

Broken Records

The Good Stuff

Gag Me

Hush

Give & Take

God Is Love

Rent

Beats

Vibin'

Iron Fists

Hey, Big Spender...

No Sole

The Meat Grind

The X To My Why

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

The Bullets Are Proof

But Do You "Like" Like Me?

Snap Snap

Seriously? No, SERIOUSLY?

Acapella... Ella... Ella

Twas The Night...

Under The Mistletoe

When Two Worlds Collide III

Bits and Pieces

Clueless

She A'aight, Sunn.

WE WON!!11!!!Eleven!!!!111

Sunny Side Up

When Two Worlds Collide II

Oh! Canada.. (Really?)

Blow 'Em

Just For Kicks

Dipping her fingers into your true colors,
S.
PS - Gay marriage has been legal in Canada since 2005... Just saying. PPS - Congrats to Beyonce on the release of her album today. It's an excellent piece of work. PPPS - This one was for you.