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.

Cotton Mouth

"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.

Sin + Mmms

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, 

 

 

S.      

Dynamite

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.

Rent

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.

The Bullets Are Proof

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,

S.

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.

Clueless

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,

S. 

PS - Say something. Anything you want.