Shmexi Haircut

Be there!

I still miss Sou

I feel weird. I haven't eaten anything since the afternoon, like 5 or so hours ago, and I just finished watching Becoming Jane and crying my eyes out. Everything feels misplaced. Oh, and my heart feels misplaced. Chena mukana wayed ghala6 w it's beating all wrong;\

4O minutes later..

I just had a meal with my mom, who is beginning to believe that I am anorexic.. AGAIN! We've been having a few irregular ups and downs lately, but this conversation reminds me why I love her so much. She didn't make the weird feeing go away. Neither did the Chinese food I just ate;\

You know, my grandmother from my mom's side (the one I'm named after but died before I was brought into this cruel world) prayed that each child of hers would have a child who is exactly like their parent. I'm that blessing. I'm my mom. Really.

I look like her. I talk like her (with more gestures). I smile like her. I laugh like her. I play with my hair like her. I steal her stuff like she steals mine (but I don't deny it like she does). I sip tea like her. I even wear my rings on the same fingers she does. It's strange.

But what was my grandmother really thinking? I mean, did she only want us to act the same? Shouldn't she have wanted us to think the same? When it comes to our minds, we're worlds apart. It scares people. It scares us. It scars our relationship. Again, it's strange.

It's a small world. Yesterday, I found out that one of my fellow blogger friends is the cousin of my friend. Today, I hang out with someone who is with H in her department. I don't think I like that it's a small world. Everyone knows everyone. That's boring.

I have homework and a quiz. I don't feel like neither. I want to read, but the book I'm reading now is so slow. I feel like curling my hair, as well. Oh, and I'm cutting my hair after tomorrow.

Ya nass, wain Bulletii? Seriously! Did I miss something?

English Day is coming up. You're all invited;p

I miss Sou

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

The Archer, this one is for you. I couldn't resist;p

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

The concert on Friday was simply amazing! There were singers, pianists, guitarists, flutists (?), a violinist, and a drummer. Although one of my favorite songs was ruined, I liked most of the pieces. My favorite of the night was "Passion", a piece by three guitarists and a flutist (ee kaify, it's a word now). It was SO good. I had to leave 3 pieces before the end of the concert, but I saw what I had to see to know that I would so go again! I might post videos and pictures some time soon.

Oh, and Aj, your fingers make great music;)

---

About the previous post, my best physical feature is definitely my eyes.

---

What's up with the entekhabat? A relative of mine is a candidate, and I couldn't be bothered. I mean, the whole family is working for the sake of this family relation. My mom keeps nagging me about not doing anything to help with the campaign, and I keep telling her that I'm not interested. I know he's a relative. I know he has good ideas. That doesn't mean if I could vote, I would vote for him.

Well, sometimes I go out by myself, and I..

.

[UPDATE] Musical Concert tonight at the Abdulaziz Theatre in Mishref, next to the jam3eya @7.30pm.

.

[UPDATE2] The question is: What do you think is your best physical feature? So, what other people think is not important;p

.

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

Being ravished by a foreign unfamiliarity of emotions..

---

Barkooli: I slept for two and a half hours today! I woke up with a headache, but I don't care! I slept well even if it was a short time!

---

A question for my fellow bloggers and readers:

What do you think is your best physical feature?

PS. You can guess which feature I think is my best if you want:)

Coffee

I had a weird morning and afternoon. I woke up feeling like crap. I wore my emergency outfit. I rushed out the door and headed to school. After my first class, I met up with three friends under the mathalat malout the staff's parking lot, and we listened to good music. That flipped my mood. Even though I suspect that my professor saw us doing subtle dance moves while singing loudly, I didn't care.

Two classes later, my mood is flipped because one of my favorite people is too tired to show up at college, and so, I decided to ditch my usual hang out place and drive around with R. An hour later, Sou joins us, and we head to Coffee Bean. We sang our hearts out in the car. I love you guys. 7adkum you made my day. Until.. blekh! I won't go there.

THEN, I headed to class all distracted. I seriously could not understand anything. There was no point. So, I just sat there texting my mom and the person who decided not to show up who then decided to show up. Another mood flip.

I excused myself 20 minutes into my next class. I had a dose of therapy. I hung out with my friends. After that, I felt empty. I drove home with a blank mind. Seriously, I was thinking of nothing. I wasn't even listening to the music that was playing in the background of the emptiness.

Now, my behind hurts. Ouch. I was going to continue the rest, but mali khelg all of a sudden. I think I need to sleep more than a few hours a day. Oh, and Sou + R, "Stop making a fool out of meeee... Why don't you come on over, Valerie?"

Ladybug or Ladybird?

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

Who the hell do you think you are? What are you doing? You sit and decide who your next target is? And then, what? You go around telling people unspeakable things? I pity you. I look down on you. Really, I do. I didn't really care when you said stuff about me, but saying what you said about one of the people who mean more than a lot to me is where you cross the line. I hope one day you go through what I'm going through now. Maybe then you'd realize how pitiful you are. And maybe, if you have any emotions, you'd realize what wrath is. For now, you're a piece of nothing. You're nothing. I belittle you because you're nothing.

I had to get that out. Otherwise I'd walk up to that person and spit in his/her face.

---

EVENTS:

There's a concert on Friday, in the Abdulaziz Theatre in Mishref, next to the jam3eya @7.30pm. It's by students from the College of Basic Education and Kuwait University. Should be fun.

English Day. The invitation is posted here, and it has all the information.

There's Palestinian Film Week in Khaldeya (KU campus, the Memorial Hall next to Ahli Bank) this week, as well. The movies start at 7pm.

---

I've been too tired to type what I've written. What is it with not being able to eat or sleep? I literally can't force food down my throat at times. Sometimes, it looks revolting. I can't sleep. I close my eyes and clear my head. I can't sleep. Really. I usually give up and read or write, but I still need to sleep. Any remedies besides showering, meditating, lavender, and exhausting myself until I'm too tired to move?

---

Shout outs:

A, you might want to call me back. I have something that would interest you, but let's stay formal.

Aj, cheer up!

Angel + Silver, Happy Birthday;*

HAJS, I miss you, but I love you more;*

R, we're in the same boat. How shitty are you feeling today?;p

Jam3a Buddies, thanks for existing. A7ebkum (Well, most of you, and you know who you are);*

The Archer, thanks for the talk.. Really:)

And you guys, I'm not sorry that my blog hasn't been that exciting lately because it's reflecting me, but things will be different soon. I started with spicing up Poshlust;D

Pygmalion

These past two months have been exhausting. I am done writing a paper on G.B. Shaw's "Life Force", but I can't stop thinking about that theory. I always believed that I should start with myself when it comes to making the world a better place, but now, it seems like I don't even know who I am. My individuality has been shaken. It has eroded gradually these past two months or so.

Our professor sang these lines from a Michael Jackson song a couple of mornings ago:

I'm starting with the man in the mirror

I'm asking him to change his ways

And no message could have been any clearer

If you want to make the world a better place

For the rest of the day, these words ring in my ear. I have thought over and over again, how can I start with myself when I don't know who I am any more? Is what I'm going through an identity crisis? Or is it mere confusion?

I keep looking at myself. I'm still me, but I'm a shaken version of me. My personality is the same. I think. But my beliefs and morals are all chaotic and contradictory. I'm angry at the world. Really. I'm angry at the life that I once loved so dearly. I'm angry at the loved ones that didn't raise me to be strong enough to handle what is being thrown my way. I'm angry at them for letting me venture out into the world a tabula rasa.

Yes, I'm angry at you. I can't even look you in the eye for the fear of being disappointed in your ways. All of you. If you wanted me to become something so bad, why didn't you raise me so that I become it instead of set me free to believe and become what I want to? And after doing that, why are you disappointed with who I've become? You're nonsensical, and it hurts.

I won't apologize for being myself around you. I'm not going to try and fix what has already broken because it can't be repaired. I'm going to make sure I develop myself and set everything straight to be happy like I always have been.

You can stop envisioning my life. I already have it planned. I might not turn into the lady you've always wanted me to be. I might not be able to act like I've spent my life in charm school. I might not marry the "perfect" guy you're looking for. I might not end up anything like you. But will that disappoint you? Will it hurt that I haven't taken your "ideal" version of my life into consideration? It shouldn't. I hope you guys realize that some time soon. Because even if I wanted to, I can't find it in myself to disobey you.

Oh, and since I know that by now, you've all realized who you are, I want you to back off until my life is back on track. And I love you. I don't care how far-fetched it seems right now. I really do love you.

...Drained

Something different for a change...

On Wednesday, Sulayman AlBassam came to give a talk in our department. For those of you who do not recall him. You should know that I am into him because of this and this. Being a genius with good looks adds to the experience of watching his most recent breathtaking play. So, as soon as I found out that he was coming, I had to make sure H and J were coming. Of course, Aj and Sou became the daily unfortunate victims of my excitement;p

I made the effort of looking good that day. I had a presentation which got canceled and two midterms. As soon as I walk into our department after my first midterm, I hear my friends bubbling with excitement. "He's here!" Where? "In Dr. Ebtehal's office!" Great. I was dared by Sou to go into the office and remind him that I ran after him previously, and so, I did. He was very sweet about remembering me. It was good meeting him formally after that incident;p

Soon, we were sitting in rows facing him. And he spoke. He spoke about plays as performances and not literature. He spoke about the journey from text into performance. He spoke about bringing actors of different backgrounds. He spoke about ideological intolerance and the inability to accept the other. He spoke about their aim to correct misapprehensions. He spoke about being careful not to naively provide a feast for ideological enemies. He spoke about forty days in a Jabriya basement to produce a play that will change many people's point of view of the Arab world.

AlBassam explained the difficulty of an Arab director being approached by the Royal Shakespeare Company to produce an adaptation of Richard III. He proceeded to explain that Richard III is seen as a symbol of evil. The character was an epitome of ugliness, but not in his play. He showed us clips of the phenomenal performace along with pictures which were displayed on stage. One of the pictures he perfectly described as a portrayal of "modernity offset by tradition."

He also spoke about the importance of live music in his plays. He explained that the "presence of live music adds to the pleasure of the spectacle", and I find that true. He gave examples of merged musical traditions. There was a lot he said. It was an inspiration, but I choose to keep part of the experience to myself.

Although Richard III: An Arabian Tragedy plays as a Kuwaiti piece, there was a local disappointment in regards to the nights it was played and the audience. There is a thirst for culture and serious drama. I just got back from The Pirates of Penzance, and I only saw thirteen Kuwaitis (yes, I counted). The opera was great. I leave you with pictures.

Uneverything

I sat across from him. I placed my hands on the cool surface of the oak table. He seemed to be miles away. I looked up and realized no matter how close he was, he was always miles away. Funny.

I put my hands around the mug with the flowers. The coffee smelled so good, but I didn't take a sip. I didn't enjoy the time we spent together when he was in his pensive mood. I felt neglected and maybe a little jealous.

I waited for him to talk, but he didn't. We just say there for a while, sharing an immensely comforting silence and stealing glances at each other. We both knew that the other was stealing glances, too. What a way to pass time.

I hesitantly ran my finger up the spine of my book. It wasn't my book, really. A friend lent it to me. I smelled it, and he smiled. He always smiled when I smelled a book, and I never asked why. We both knew why without having to tell each other. Silent conversations? I wouldn't know..

I took a sip of the still steaming coffee and opened the book with the tips of my fingers. I started reading. I lost myself until reality snapped its fingers when my coffee finished.

I looked up at him. He was staring at me. I shrugged and walked off to fill my mug again. I didn't sit down when I got back. I took my book and found a spot under the window. I wondered if I should sit or leave. He told me to sit, and I did.

Again, I waited for him to say something... anything at all, but he didn't. I kept on reading, and he filled my mug whenever it emptied itself. He was staring at me the whole time. I wasn't uncomfortable. I wondered why for the first moments, but then I mentally smirked at myself. I reminded myself that I knew him too well. I knew well enough to know that he was staring for the right reason, whatever it was... if there was one, actually.

I tried to imagine what he was seeing while he stared at me. What did he see? Strands of wavy hazel hair pinned back to reveal a face absorbed with concentration. Brows about to knit. A hand holding the book open. Another hand curling its fingers around the mug. Grey shorts sinfully ending ten centimeters before moisturized knees. A brown tank top hinding under a peach tank top both revealing lazy arms. Legs crossed over each other, the toes of one foot playing with the edge of a gigantic vase. No, he saw something else.

I coudn't put my finger on it. What did he see? Did he see himself forty years ago? Did he see something I didn't see in myself? What was it that kept him staring for hours without making me uncomfortable? Why am I afraid to ask? Would it hurt?

I glanced at him and smiled. I realized that I didn't ask because I wasn't ready for the disappointment my question could bring. I closed my book and walked over to him. I kissed his forehead and put my arms around him. I wondered why I loved him so much.

He asked me if I wanted to eat. That was his hint that the rest of the day would be normal.

---

S, Happy Birthday;*

Aj, you know better:)

All Shook Up

Dear *,

I want it to be tomorrow. I want it to be the day you realize how selfish you are. You know, when that day comes, I will be sure I will have more "times" with you. Hehe, I wonder why we call them "times" ...do you know?

I can remember every moment I spent with you. I can imagine every moment I will spend with you. I cannot entertain the thought that I will be without you one day. Never. I used to be able to, but now, I just cannot. Don't disappoint me.

What I really want is an explanation of why you are being so selfish. I mean, seriously? Do we have to go through the arguments and hurt every time we talk? Do I have to deny that I am crying even with the tears making their way down to my lips? Do I have to blink back how much I love you just so I hurt you enough into doing what you should do?

You keep telling me that I am not as selfish as I think I am, but you know what? You are more selfish than you think you are. How can you not see that this is affecting us all? We go through this together. Fingers crossed, the day will come when you realize that you are not the only person affected by this.

I always think old people are frustratingly nonsensical, but you always make sense to me. That is, you have always made sense to me until now. I do not understand one bit of it.

Please, I want more of the "times" we spend together. I want to carelessly shrug off the cold floor of your library against the flesh of my legs. I want to smell the coffee that I cannot drink and not curse you for drinking it. I want to smile at you knowingly across the table, sharing a moment where we simultaneously found the answer to a mystery that we have questioned millions of times. I want to have silent conversations with you about the cruel ways of the world and how we cannot change them. I want to make sure you understand every moment of silence we have ever had has a screaming significance behind it. I want to be able to tease you when you mix up theories and books and watch you laugh it off like it would stain my image of you. I want to listen to your singing of samris and recital of poetry from the jaheleya just to cheer me up. Please.

Why can't you see that I am not myself with anyone as much as I am myself with you? You are one of the people who make me who I am. Your image in my perspective of life cannot be scarred by anything. You have hurt me before, but this is different. I will not let go of you easily. I can not talk to you for a while, but you know that will not last.

I just want you to know that you are part of my "everything" as you like to call it. Part of me worries, hurts, laughs, pretends, and dies with you. Do this for us if you are not willing to do it for yourself. Do not make me go through this again.

I love you no matter what. I love you beyond words. I love you beyond feelings. I love you more than to just sit and watch.

Your Polyhymnia

(I know you think I forgot, but I did not.)

"Am I?"

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

.

---

.

I look in the mirror. It's just a glance. No. It's a stare, now. It's a gaze. A gaze into the depths of myself. The self that I thought I knew so well. Ha! Funny, isn't it? Who would have thought I'd be standing in front of the mirror questioning my image like a psychotic lady? My critical hazel eyes look me over. Dad is right. My hair is the color of my eyes. He's right.

I look through my eyes into the vapor of my air of personality. I don't see it. Wait, yes, I do. It's in my messy carelessly curled hair. It's in my neatly brushed eyebrows. It's in the nonexistent gaps between my teeth. It's in the raise of my left eyebrow. It's in the necklace hanging around my neck. It's in the earrings I sleep in when I'm lazy. It's in that second pierce that my dad doesn't like. It's in the light hair-like scar to the left of my lips. Imperfections?

I close my eyes. I really think I should get to know me better. How did I let an emotional turmoil rock my solid undeniable knowledge of every aspect of who I am? I let it. That's right. I did. It's me who always wants a new experience even if it hurts. I unmerge my top and bottom lashes only to stare back at myself.

I realize that not everything about how I am is in how I look. I smile. I question my happiness. That's it. I'm not happy anymore. I'm not completely content. This is what I'm so depressed about. I cover my right eye with my hand. That's more like it. I'm only happy with half of the image in front of me, or is it what's behind this image? Is it the abstract personality that I can see in every feature of my form. Strange. What has changed?

Pop Art

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

Aj linked me to this. Watch.

---

When I first started this blog, right after my first post, I promised myself that I would not delete any comments that perhaps might bother me, or posts that might expose me a bit too much after they are posted. It's getting hard. I'm looking back at all the things I've written, and I'm thinking that I really am sentimental. There's nothing wrong with that. I just realized that about myself. I'm overly sensitive and emotional. As soon as I feel something I can write about, I sit, type, and post. I don't think about who might read this and what they might think. I just do it. At times, I think of blocking comments on certain posts, but then, I reconsider because it seems like I'll be taking away your freedom as readers of Poshlust. The reason why I went on a break is that I've been going through a very unpredictable emotional facade. I didn't want to post thoughts that have been altered by emotions. Now, I look back on that, and I think it's silly. This is me. Whether overly sentimental or not, this blog should reflect what I am and what I am going through no matter what. So, this is all there is. Sometimes oppressed feelings come out all wrong. I just hope you guys understand that certain personal things are not easy to post. I admit that at times my lack of anonymity is in the way, but right now, it is mostly the fact that I feel vulnerable. It's new. This is post is a pact from me to myself to remind me that I have promised myself to post regardless of how exposed and fragile the words might make me.

Scary Weather

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

Bkel sara7a.. Sh`hal maskhara eli sayra?! Awalan, deeratna netfa! Kuwait is tiny. Ma tet7amal hal suwalef eli based on crap. The majority thed qanoon elfar3eyat. Ee, they have the right to stop elfar3eyat. We get where you're coming from. BUT.. Elasaleeb elwaskha eli ga3ed et9eer kelish malha da3i! Sheno ya3ni tedkheloun 3aza w bs 3shan 3aza fi e3yal qebayel you demand proof ena it's a 3aza?! Mn sejkum?! 3AZA?! Mashallah, you went to the right place. 3aini 3alaikum bardah. Okay, khalasna mn el3aza, ma etshofoun shar.. Al7een ma etgolounli, sheno eli yathbet ena ay tajamu3 ma3nata ena ga3ed et9eer far3eyat?! Nezal 3alaikum ethbat mn elsema.. Shetsawoon?! Etyeboun lekum helicopters w qanabel museela leldmoo3 w rubber bullets w et6egoun feha e3yal baladna?! Laish ma etnadoun 9a7eb elduwaneya wela eli emnathem hal tajamu3 w et7aqeqoun ma3ah?! Tara ana mu bdeweya, wala I believe in all the 6a2efeya bullshit. Bel nehaya kelna kwaityeen w hathaila eli entharraw e3yal elkwait! Lama etyoun entaw e3yal eldeera w tahjemoun 3ala ekhwankum la w wain?! B byout`hum w duwaweenhum.. Hatha shesamouna?! You're trespassing on private property.. Ana ma artha unexpected people that I know ydeshoun baitna.. Hal door ba3ad yayeen emdar3emeen et6egoun w et7athfoun qanabel w tarmoun b rubber bullets, w tabounhum yasketoun ba3ad?! 7ilfaw bas?! Tara la7ad ygoul hatha elqanoon 3shan amn eldawla, la.. Ma asadeg`ha 3ugb eli shefta ilyoum.. Sa7ee7 ena the people attacked have previously done government officials wrong, bas ma net3amal weya ba3ath bhal 6areeqa.. Ma adkhal 3ala elawadem b byout`hum w a7athefhum wana ma 3endi daleel 3ala ena ohma emkhalfeen qanoon elfar3eyat.. Shay ma 9ar! Hal qanoon ga3ed yu6abaq with the wrong intentions.. Ta6beeq mu le amn eldawla wala shay.. 3adatan, ma7eb atkalam bhal muwathee3 le2ana elsalfa et6oul w kel wa7ed 3abala ena elthani ga3ed yahjem 3alaih.. Kel wa7ed la raya, bas ana hal mawthoo3 ghaseb batkalam fi le2ana deeratna sgheera. Elkhelafat eli ga3ed et9eer bain bado w 7athar w she3a w sena w ghairhum, hathi et`ther the hope for we7da wa6aneya.. Wetha ekbarat hal khelafat tara 3adi deeratna etrou7 feha. W athen ma7ad fena yabi hal shay.. Wela shraykum?! Mas2alat ena I launch a battle of rubber bullets and helicopters against people mn deerti without proof ena ohma emkhalfeen shay hathi mu dasha 3agli abadan.. 3al 3moom, khal kel wa7ed fena y7e6 deerta gabel ma9ala7a elshakhseya eli malha awal wala tali gabel la y9eer fi deeratna shay.. Athen elmafrooth elkwait gabel ay shay 3nd elkwaityeen..

I can feel it in the beat!

I'm back. Not in full force. Spilled coffee is gone. Stains are strictly emotional. The world isn't as flowery with birds chirping in the background as I thought it to be. Whatever, here's the post:

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

And so she danced. With every leg lift, she kicked one of her sorrows out the window. She smiled because none were big or heavy enough to break the glass. And so she danced. Her eyes shut off reality. She absorbed the music and let it float in her mind. Think of nothing, she told herself. She kept reminding herself that it was only her and the music... until her phone rang. She silenced the music with her toe. Hello? Hey! I miss you, too. Everything's been great. What about you? Really? Good different or bad different? Not really, no. I'm fine. Nothing. Ma feni shay. Hehehe.. All's well. Sure. Why wouldn't I? Okay. Bye. She smirked. She never really thought it was that easy to cover things up. And so she danced. She couldn't get the coffee stains out. Again, it's her and the music. She could only wipe the spill off the surface. Let the music fill her mind. She couldn't even set the mug upright. Music. She opened her eyes and stared at a random spot on the wall. She cleared her head of everything but the music. And so she danced. She danced until she couldn't move. Then, she realized how much of a coward she really is.

---

A, I'm sorry. I know. And I'm sorry;*

Bulletii w Outkasty w Ge6awEe;*

Dry

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

---

"It is not a bad idea to get in the habit of writing down one's thoughts. It saves one having to bother anyone else with them."

- Isabel Colegate

You guys choose to be bothered.

However, same goes for feelings. But with certain feelings, I'd rather keep to myself. Since they are blocking my thoughts...

...I'll be back when the spilled coffee is cleared, even if it leaves stains.