Sway

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.

Good God

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.

S. 

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

PPS - Fahad, you rock.

Vibin'

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,

S.

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

Acapella... Ella... Ella

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...

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. 

1. Make today special.
2. Laugh so hard you cry.
3. Thank a teacher
4. Start right now.
5. Be a hero everyday, minus the dorky cape. 
6. Follow your heart (Pray and hope your "heart" drives a bad ass car).
7. Do it for love, not profit. 
8. Compliment a stranger (Bonus points if you do it on Gulf Road). 
9. Take all your vacation days (Um, welcome to Kuwait anyone?). 
10. 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

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

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.

When Two Worlds Collide II

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?)

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,

S.

PS - Any thoughts?

Foga/Ta7ta/Over It

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,

S. 

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

Boys Boys Boys

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,

S.

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

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. 

Bad Drivers

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,

S. 

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

Bros & Cons

Someday, I hope to see a world where we are all equal, regardless of gender. That can't always be said in Kuwait, but no worries because S. is here. I'm young, and painfully naive, but I've got big plans for us Kuwait.

Until then, I shall share with you a little story that I find amusing. Despite the painfully patriarchal set-up we have in Kuwait, there is a silver lining to being a woman here. At times. Case in point: It was a hot, sticky day in August of this year. I had to go to KU's Shuwaikh campus to register for my classes. At one end of the hall you have the women's entrance and at the other is the men's. In addition to picking my classes, I had some other paperwork to deal with and so I was taken to see someone who could help me...at the other end of the hall. The men's end of the hall. I know.
I'm just pulling your tails, it was fine and there was hardly a difference...except that I was hit with a sudden headache due to the excess amount of cologne I had just inhaled. (Some of the Kuwaiti youth really need to familiarize themselves with the concept "Less is more"). After I had finished everything I needed to do, I decided it was time for me to get myself back home. Being my rebellious and occasionally lazy self, I decided to exit from the men's door. My Dad was walking in front of me, and led the way. When we reached the actual doors, he stopped because the area was congested with Kuwaiti guys eager to pick their classes and get out of there. I waited for about two minutes, produced a delicate little cough and watched as those dishdashas parted like the Red Sea to let me (and my Father) through. I was Moses. I was the chosen one. I was on my way home in five seconds flat.

Tell me if you have ever used/manipulated cultural aspects in regards to gender to get what you want. I won't judge you. I promise.

Pawning the silver lining,

S.

Mechanical Hearts

(I am really loving this song right now. So should you. Enjoy.)

You're very cute Kuwait. I like you, I think. I can't help myself. *Blushes*

When I first set foot in Kuwait's airport two years ago, the first thought that sprang into my head (Well, the second. The first was "Oh, they have a Cartier store here? How nice!") was "Two years, and then I'm outta here. Two years and then I'm back home!"
That was all fine and dandy until I woke up one day and realized that I was happy. Here. Yes, you read that correctly. Don't get me wrong, the bad often outweighs the good in Kuwait. The weight is evenly distributed between neon makeup and Bedazzled Hummers. The traffic is atrocious. Hawalli is an eyesore. There isn't always much to do, other than go out to a restaurant or bum it out with friends in a mall.
However, and I highly stress this point, there are some magnificent people in Kuwait. I've met some of the kindest, funniest, most outrageous people here. I'm lucky enough to call them friends, and even luckier that I decided to defrost my attitude enough to allow friendship to take root. Plus, the fact that having been raised in Canada has given me something of an "exotic" edge it just truly ironic. Canada is many things. Exotic is most definitely not one of them.

To wrap up this post, I want you to tell me about a spot in the world you've visited that turned out to be different than you imagined. I remember driving around Parisians suburbs and thinking that this was the farthest thing from glamorous. It was too much for me, and we hurriedly zoomed back to our hotel. Much glamorous fun was had that vacation.

Sighing somewhere in a galaxy far,

S.

Fun Times

In my regular McChicken fashion, I am going to wish everyone Ramadan mubarak! (That's how we say it in Canada). This is my *FIRST* Ramadan in Kuwait, and my first one with all the lovely people I've met over the past two years and so naturally I am very excited. Another added bonus is I'm working on getting my driver's license, so that's another highlight to look forward to this month.

Without rambling on forever, I once again wish everyone a fabulous and righteous month. Spread the joy, share the love and pass the laban!

Trying to fix this case cotton mouth by drooling at the thought of Eid cash,

S.

It's Not Just About Shoulder Pads

One notion that I've never been fully able to grasp is the concept of "Good Families". What I mean by this, is often times when someone's character is called into question the first manner in which such claims will be shrugged off is a quickie reply of "No, but he/she is from a good family..."
Don't get me wrong, I am well aware that Kuwait is home to many influential and revered families, but if you have respectable families, doesn't that also mean you must also have unrespectable families? What criteria would qualify someone to fall under the latter group?

I'm not really trying to make a point here, just thinking out loud on a Saturday morning with a hot cup of tea.

Sipping cautiously,

S.

I've Got A (Sick?) Obsession

(Go ahead, drum your fingers along to this song...you know you love it.)

To quote Ke$ha, "I've got a sick obsession...". No, I'm not addicted to drawing on my face like the Pop princess. If I have markers in my hand, we all lose. What I mean to say is that these past two years have found me becoming obsessed with all things Kuwait. From the fashions, to the vernacular to the social "rituals" (Starbucks mating game...yeah, I know about that), Kuwait has me held captive with its buzzing fluorescent culture. The cherry on top of this situation must be how seamlessly the Kuwaiti youth have incorporated stereotypically North American tokens of Pop Culture and reinvented them as their own. Sheik Ray Ban anyone?
Myself, I'm a very dramatic figure, which is perhaps why I find myself fascinated with the overly trendy culture the general Kuwaiti youth identify with. With the neon accessories and matte phones, I find myself left with plenty to look at and analyze.

Buffing my Ray Bans to a royal shine,
S.

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.