Under Pressure

 "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,

S.

Running On Fear

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,

S.

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.  

Last Laughs

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,

S. 

The Ugly Truth

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.

Fallen Leaves

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):

1. The leaves changing color. Walking to and from school was a visual feast bursting with golds, reds, oranges.....I really miss that. 
2. 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.
3. The advent of all my favorite TV shows airing again! 
4. September is the ultimate countdown to all the best holidays: Halloween, Christmas, Hanukkah.
5. Terry Fox day.
6. 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,

S.

Drowning in Nostalgia

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.

I've Got A Bun In The Oven!

KIDDING!

I could however explain to you in (utterly boring) detail the process with which bread is made. See, it's quite simple really, it's all about the fermentation process. The fluffy, light texture you're likely to associate with bread is directly linked to the production of carbon dioxide as the heat from an oven activates the yeast that is vital to this process...Bored yet?
I'll fill you in on a slice of my life before you throw me in an oven; today I got news that I have been accepted in KU into the Biology program! Really...the applause isn't necessary.
To make a long story short, I'm going to be attending KU for the next year, and if everything goes well, I'll be jetting off to Ireland next year to learn the art of healing. Expect many posts, pictures (with inappropriate captions, of course) and funny tales from what I hope is going to be an amazing, educational and all out fun year.

Sharpening my wit and dulling my senses,

S.

PS - If you hear angry villagers, and see smoke and pitch-forks come September 26, don't worry...it'll just be my first day.

What's In A Name?

If you cast a quick glance at the address bar on the top of your browser (I'm a Safari girl myself), you'll see I've chosen "The Expatess" as the moniker under which my blog will exist. The genesis for this name is either dull or interesting, depending on your taste. In any case, I'll elaborate and allow you to play judge to my crime in taste.

One aspect of Kuwaiti culture I've always been well acquainted with is the ritual-like consumption of tea. As a child, I recall my Father drinking tea (mixed with condensed milk) at breakfast every morning. I would vigorously lie to myself , and pretend that his preferred morning beverage was an emulation of the Brits' affinity for tea. Sadly, time passed and fantasies faded; I realized that my Dad wasn't merely being posh, he was also being his Kuwaiti self.
Before I continue to digress all the way into oblivion, I'll explain the name. As a kid with skinned knees, I recall many stormy nights spent watching The X-Files, completely enthralled with the eerie adventures of Mulder and Scully (Fact: I will always love David Duchovny). Recently teased as being an "expatriate" in my own country, I lopped off the latter half of the word, added the female suffix of "-ess" and here we are today. Seeing as how I plan on filing all my otherworldly university experience in this virtual cabinet, I thought my little play on words was appropriate. That explains the name of the blog. What it doesn't explain is why I don't have an estikana in my hand.

Running to the sound of the kettle screeching,

S.

Formal Introductions

In a few months time, September to be accurate, I will begin my life as a student at Kuwait University. Before I begin my high-brow ramblings (an effort to document my freshman year), allow me to introduce the legend that will be.

Overtly opinionated, old enough to vote in any North American country and living my life in utter submission to the work of Larry David. That's me in a nutshell.
Raised by an amazing Kuwaiti father and a loving Syrian mother, Canada was where I spent my sunny childhood outdoors, unaware that I was, or rather am, a Kuwaiti. My family and I moved back to the old country around two years ago, and it's been quite the ride ever since.

The concept of this virtual diary is not to spend immense amounts of time critiquing Kuwait and it's culture, but rather to try and find a way of reconciling my Canadian upbringing, mindset and tendencies with a culture that is an inevitable part of who I am.

Heading out to pick up a tube of neon pink lipstick that seems to be all the rage round these parts,

S.