Because I Have To

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

 Happy Birthday Lady Gaga! 

Whispers

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

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

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:

1. Lonely 
2. Lonely & Bitter
3. Lonely & Bitter & Married
4. 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

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.

S.

VICTORY!

YOU DID IT EGYPT! 

Eighteen days of struggle, but you did it!

S.

Broken Records

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,

S.