Hello?

I miss this thing.

S.

Au Revoir & Bonne Chance

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

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

"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.

S.

 

(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

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

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

"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. 

S.