On the plus side I don't suffer much menstrual pain, just a vague backache and some ovarian discomfort. On the downside I have horrible PMT. I just want this dark cloud hovering my head to be over. My god, please just start already!
what she was wearing
by Denver Butson
this is my suicide dress
she told him
I only wear it on days
when I'm afraid
I might kill myself
if I don't wear it
you've been wearing it
every day since we met
he said
and these are my arson gloves
so you don't set fire to something?
he asked
exactly
and this is my terrorism lipstick
my assault and battery eyeliner
my armed robbery boots
I'd like to undress you he said
but would that make me an accomplice?
and today she said I'm wearing
my infidelity underwear
so don't get any ideas
and she put on her nervous breakdown hat
and walked out the door
What I'm Listening to Right Now: ماحد كما المولى - عادل الماس
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
Saturday, 25 October 2008
I Need a Fix Cause I'm Going Down
So I took a page out of Unique Stephen's book and decided to hit the beach. My grandfather owns a beach house in the area south of the Sheikh Muhammad Naser al-Ahmad Naval Base, which my family gathers at every weekend. It's a big place, every family has their own apartment, and there's usually a few uncles and cousins around. I'm not much of a photographer, I don't even own a camera, but I felt like documenting the day so I snagged my sister's point and shoot.
A few perfunctory hellos as I walked through the house, and then I hit the sand. The beach isn’t exactly private, but it’s private access for a long stretch and except for people walking by, folks usually keep to the stretches of sand in front of their own property.
I’d barely figured out how to work the camera so that all the shots wouldn’t be completely washed out and was taking my first pictures when I was summoned back into the house.
I was met by excited orders to put on some shoes and come quick and for heaven’s sake to bring my camera, there were kites!
I hopped into my uncle’s car and as we sped to a patch of empty land on the side opposite the water he explained. There were some sort of kite flying hobbyists with giant kites up in the sky and as the sun was starting to set they were probably going to be bringing them down.
Fortunately we caught them before they brought everything down. Unfortunately I didn't manage to capture these ladybugs in flight.
By the time I got back it was getting dark and I was accosted by three little girls demanding a turn at the camera. I had the thing all day and I thought this was only fair. (My sister hearing this line of reasoning later that night was not very amused even though she gives in to them just as easily.) One of them caught me either explaining how we should all go racing toward the camera or performing some sort of tribal dance.
I then caught our talented camerawoman flipping some sand the bird.
Finally, they they went back inside and left me in peace. I messed around with exposure to figure out how to take pictures of a dark beach. I was not entirely unsuccessful.
Spent some time playing with the surf while listening to Arabic music, which fit the night better before going back to the house to hang out with my uncles to talk about the economy and classic Arabian poetry before heading back home. All in all, not a bad way to spend an evening.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: Ashes to Ashes - David Bowie
A few perfunctory hellos as I walked through the house, and then I hit the sand. The beach isn’t exactly private, but it’s private access for a long stretch and except for people walking by, folks usually keep to the stretches of sand in front of their own property.
I’d barely figured out how to work the camera so that all the shots wouldn’t be completely washed out and was taking my first pictures when I was summoned back into the house.
Fortunately we caught them before they brought everything down.
By the time I got back it was getting dark and I was accosted by three little girls demanding a turn at the camera. I had the thing all day and I thought this was only fair. (My sister hearing this line of reasoning later that night was not very amused even though she gives in to them just as easily.) One of them caught me either explaining how we should all go racing toward the camera or performing some sort of tribal dance.
I then caught our talented camerawoman flipping some sand the bird.
Spent some time playing with the surf while listening to Arabic music, which fit the night better before going back to the house to hang out with my uncles to talk about the economy and classic Arabian poetry before heading back home. All in all, not a bad way to spend an evening.What I'm Listening to Right Now: Ashes to Ashes - David Bowie
Thursday, 23 October 2008
I Am An Old Internet Meme
Or this is. It's one or the other. Or possibly both. So Inchy tagged me, and I posted because I'm obedient like that. Also nosy. And the type to overshare. It's win-win!
The rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Write six random things about yourself
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
I don't know how this is any different than my random information dumps but ok.
1. This isn't my only blog. I have another blog that I started around three years ago which I still post on, on and off. A few people that I know on that blog know my real life info, and while I trust them with a lot of stuff, I'm not out to them. Hence this all new 50% gayer blog. So if my writing style seems oddly familiar to couple of people who've come across this blog, that's the reason.
2. I wear a veil/headscarf/hijab/whatever you call it. Not the face covering part, just the thing muslim girls wrap around their heads. I'm not really for or against it, nobody made me wear it. It's a decision I made when I was 14, one I probably wouldn't make it the same way if I knew then what I know now. I don't particularly regret it. My only concern is that it makes me a bit of a hypocrite, hiding who I am behind religious symbolism.
3. My eyeteeth are slightly elongated. My fang like teeth do not make me a vampire. Don't be fooled by the bloodlust.
4. My parents are related. My mother is my paternal grandmother's cousin. So that means that my dad is also my second cousin. Unusual? Not so much in this part of the world where cousins marrying is the case more often than not. Gross? You betcha. I'm inbred!
5. Despite my extreme clumsiness and my being in a spectacular car wreck that involved my car flipping over and over down the highway and me crawling out of the smoking debris (good times), my most serious injury was a cut on my palm that needed a couple of stitches that I got when I fell through a glass door.
6. Sometimes I think I have olfactory hallucinations.
And I just realized that I lead the most boring sheltered life ever.
I tag: Boojam, De Campo BC, Delicately Realistic, Unique Stephen, Kwtia, and F.
Whaddya know. I actually know enough people to do this properly. Sort of. I knew my antisocial tendencies would come back to bite me in the ass one day.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: Valerie - Mark Ronson ft. Amy Winehouse
The rules:
1. Link to the person who tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Write six random things about yourself
4. Tag six people at the end of your post and link to them
5. Let each person know they've been tagged and leave a comment on their blog
6. Let the tagger know when your entry is up.
I don't know how this is any different than my random information dumps but ok.
1. This isn't my only blog. I have another blog that I started around three years ago which I still post on, on and off. A few people that I know on that blog know my real life info, and while I trust them with a lot of stuff, I'm not out to them. Hence this all new 50% gayer blog. So if my writing style seems oddly familiar to couple of people who've come across this blog, that's the reason.
2. I wear a veil/headscarf/hijab/whatever you call it. Not the face covering part, just the thing muslim girls wrap around their heads. I'm not really for or against it, nobody made me wear it. It's a decision I made when I was 14, one I probably wouldn't make it the same way if I knew then what I know now. I don't particularly regret it. My only concern is that it makes me a bit of a hypocrite, hiding who I am behind religious symbolism.
3. My eyeteeth are slightly elongated. My fang like teeth do not make me a vampire. Don't be fooled by the bloodlust.
4. My parents are related. My mother is my paternal grandmother's cousin. So that means that my dad is also my second cousin. Unusual? Not so much in this part of the world where cousins marrying is the case more often than not. Gross? You betcha. I'm inbred!
5. Despite my extreme clumsiness and my being in a spectacular car wreck that involved my car flipping over and over down the highway and me crawling out of the smoking debris (good times), my most serious injury was a cut on my palm that needed a couple of stitches that I got when I fell through a glass door.
6. Sometimes I think I have olfactory hallucinations.
And I just realized that I lead the most boring sheltered life ever.
I tag: Boojam, De Campo BC, Delicately Realistic, Unique Stephen, Kwtia, and F.
Whaddya know. I actually know enough people to do this properly. Sort of. I knew my antisocial tendencies would come back to bite me in the ass one day.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: Valerie - Mark Ronson ft. Amy Winehouse
Tuesday, 21 October 2008
I Miss My Mind The Most
Maybe because these other things I haven't lost. They are merely temporarily misplaced.
Taco/Starla: My best friend. My platonic soul mate. She's like my elbow, under appreciated yet completely necessary. She tolerates my oddness and my attempts at humor, and she doesn’t kill me in my sleep. Also, she is a twelve year old boy and a classically trained mime (no she’s not just quiet don’t believe a word she says). We spend much too much time disappearing on one another.
Cairo: A couple of years ago I got to spend a week at Starla's place there. It was loud, crowded, dirty and I loved every second of it. There are a lot of places that I fell head over heels for, but my favorite is a place called Shadder. Tucked away in a residential area it's the oddest mix of old and new. Traditional low to the ground seats and hookahs. Wirless internet and alternative rock music. Saj bread with Nutella. Cairo needs its own post.
The Meems: The lesbian community support group I met in Lebanon. They're accepting, smart, focused, hardworking and active. They've achieved so much in a short time. I'm proud to claim those women as friends. They're just so warm and inclusive. They also need their own post.
Smoking: I am not a smoker. I 'm always ‘quitting’ smoking. I will have a couple of cigarettes every few months, and then spend every moment thinking about how I’m not smoking. It’s been nearly two months since my last cigarette, but I’ve had a couple of hookahs in the meantime so… one of which like the equivalent of an entire pack? Healthy. I miss the way smoking a cigarette makes me feel, and the ritual of it.
The Gym: I'm too lazy to go to the gym, but I miss the way working out makes me feel. Blood pumping, full of endorphins. Catching the occasional yoga session (I am the least bendy person ever). Spinning class. Swimming.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: Me and Bobby McGee - Janis Joplin
Taco/Starla: My best friend. My platonic soul mate. She's like my elbow, under appreciated yet completely necessary. She tolerates my oddness and my attempts at humor, and she doesn’t kill me in my sleep. Also, she is a twelve year old boy and a classically trained mime (no she’s not just quiet don’t believe a word she says). We spend much too much time disappearing on one another.
Cairo: A couple of years ago I got to spend a week at Starla's place there. It was loud, crowded, dirty and I loved every second of it. There are a lot of places that I fell head over heels for, but my favorite is a place called Shadder. Tucked away in a residential area it's the oddest mix of old and new. Traditional low to the ground seats and hookahs. Wirless internet and alternative rock music. Saj bread with Nutella. Cairo needs its own post.
The Meems: The lesbian community support group I met in Lebanon. They're accepting, smart, focused, hardworking and active. They've achieved so much in a short time. I'm proud to claim those women as friends. They're just so warm and inclusive. They also need their own post.
Smoking: I am not a smoker. I 'm always ‘quitting’ smoking. I will have a couple of cigarettes every few months, and then spend every moment thinking about how I’m not smoking. It’s been nearly two months since my last cigarette, but I’ve had a couple of hookahs in the meantime so… one of which like the equivalent of an entire pack? Healthy. I miss the way smoking a cigarette makes me feel, and the ritual of it.
The Gym: I'm too lazy to go to the gym, but I miss the way working out makes me feel. Blood pumping, full of endorphins. Catching the occasional yoga session (I am the least bendy person ever). Spinning class. Swimming.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: Me and Bobby McGee - Janis Joplin
Friday, 17 October 2008
This Is Not Porn
Complete schmoop. This is as saccharine as I'm liable to get. You really should watch this for it to make sense.
She lets out a sigh as she tilts her head, giving me more access to her neck. We’ve been making out aimlessly for the past half hour, long lazy kisses as we stretched out on the couch. She tightens her legs around my hips, and it seems like things are starting to heat up.
She slips a hand under my shirt, reaches up to unhook my bra. I urge her on, “Yeah, come on baby.”
I freeze, give her my best dear in head lights impression. She looks as surprised as I am. “Am I... Am I overwetting your neck?” A giggle bubbles up and I can’t stop it.
“Oh, fuck off.” She tries to shove me off but I can tell that her annoyance is feigned. Mostly.
“It's the engines Cap'n, they canna take it!” It’s embarrassing how funny I’m finding this.
“You know, just because you’re a dick doesn’t mean you actually have one. I’m pretty sure you can’t use the melty man excuse in a lesbian relationship.”
That just sets me off harder.
She rolls her eyes in tolerant amusement. “You are such a pain in my ass.”
“And what a delectable ass it is.” I pause as I’m crawling off of her to give it an appreciative bite.
“Brat. I’d take you over my knee if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.”
“Sorry!” I’m not even a little repentant. “How about I make it up to you?”
“Explosions?” she asks suspiciously.
I count them off on my fingers. “John McClane going up against helicopters, a massage, and oral sex.”
“Add hot cocoa to the list and I'll ask you to marry me.”
“Not til it’s legal. When I leave you for a hot young coed I'm taking half of everything.”
"Fair enough. Now go to the kitchen and git me some pie, woman."
I cheerfully flip her off as I go on a hunt for tiny marshmallows. I don't think I've ever been this happy.
See? Told ya.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: Are You Gonna Be My Girl - Jet
She lets out a sigh as she tilts her head, giving me more access to her neck. We’ve been making out aimlessly for the past half hour, long lazy kisses as we stretched out on the couch. She tightens her legs around my hips, and it seems like things are starting to heat up.
She slips a hand under my shirt, reaches up to unhook my bra. I urge her on, “Yeah, come on baby.”
I freeze, give her my best dear in head lights impression. She looks as surprised as I am. “Am I... Am I overwetting your neck?” A giggle bubbles up and I can’t stop it.
“Oh, fuck off.” She tries to shove me off but I can tell that her annoyance is feigned. Mostly.
“It's the engines Cap'n, they canna take it!” It’s embarrassing how funny I’m finding this.
“You know, just because you’re a dick doesn’t mean you actually have one. I’m pretty sure you can’t use the melty man excuse in a lesbian relationship.”
That just sets me off harder.
She rolls her eyes in tolerant amusement. “You are such a pain in my ass.”
“And what a delectable ass it is.” I pause as I’m crawling off of her to give it an appreciative bite.
“Brat. I’d take you over my knee if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.”
“Sorry!” I’m not even a little repentant. “How about I make it up to you?”
“Explosions?” she asks suspiciously.
I count them off on my fingers. “John McClane going up against helicopters, a massage, and oral sex.”
“Add hot cocoa to the list and I'll ask you to marry me.”
“Not til it’s legal. When I leave you for a hot young coed I'm taking half of everything.”
"Fair enough. Now go to the kitchen and git me some pie, woman."
I cheerfully flip her off as I go on a hunt for tiny marshmallows. I don't think I've ever been this happy.
See? Told ya.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: Are You Gonna Be My Girl - Jet
Wednesday, 15 October 2008
Good Girls Get Rewards
So much for the thoughtful post on reconciling my religion to my sexuality that I had planned.
*Shoots overly persistent muse a dirty look.*
Disclaimer: More porn.
Crack! The sound of her hand coming down on my ass is louder than I expected. It lingers where it landed, hot like a brand against my skin. I’m lying across her legs, the sheets are cool against my flushed face. It should be awkward and silly, but it’s not.
She pauses, idly tracing patterns on my back. “You’re such an odd creature. Why in the world would you choose this for a reward?”
Nnnrgh. She wants to talk now? Nonono. I squirm in her lap, dizzy with want. Less talking. More spanking.
She chuckles low and dirty as she runs her thumb against my crease. “Such a bossy bottom.”
I said that out loud? Wait. Bottom? I open my mouth to protest but what comes out is a surprised hiss as she lays three sharp smacks on me in quick succession.
She rests her hand on my thigh in gentle apology. “You ok?”
Ok? Is she crazy? My breathing sounds loud and harsh in my ears. “Don’t stop”, I say through gritted teeth. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more turned on.
I don’t know how many slaps come after that, five ten a hundred, hard and fast. My ass is on fire but I don’t care because I can almost come from this alone.
“Turn over.” I can tell from her voice that she's wrecked as I am, but I still hesitate. I don't know why but suddenly I feel overwhelmingly shy. My breath hitches in my chest, but I do it.
She’s on me as soon as I do, kissing me wet and sloppy, downright filthy. Her hands are everywhere and she's just wild which is making me crazy.
I pull her down and roll us over. I get on top and ride her thigh; it slips between my legs hot and slick. I'm wet, so wet. One hand rests on my still hot ass, urging me on, the other slips down and she presses gently on my clit and that’s it, I’m gone.
I open my eyes and am caught by her heated gaze. I crawl down with a smirk and place a kiss on her inner thigh.
“Your turn.”
What I'm Listening To Right Now: Breathe - Tristan Prettyman
PS: If you’re ok with boy on boy then you should definitely give this story a look. It was my inspiration. It’s Wincest so it’s dirtybadwrong by many standards, but it’s possibly the hottest spanking story on the internet.
*Shoots overly persistent muse a dirty look.*
Disclaimer: More porn.
Crack! The sound of her hand coming down on my ass is louder than I expected. It lingers where it landed, hot like a brand against my skin. I’m lying across her legs, the sheets are cool against my flushed face. It should be awkward and silly, but it’s not.
She pauses, idly tracing patterns on my back. “You’re such an odd creature. Why in the world would you choose this for a reward?”
Nnnrgh. She wants to talk now? Nonono. I squirm in her lap, dizzy with want. Less talking. More spanking.
She chuckles low and dirty as she runs her thumb against my crease. “Such a bossy bottom.”
I said that out loud? Wait. Bottom? I open my mouth to protest but what comes out is a surprised hiss as she lays three sharp smacks on me in quick succession.
She rests her hand on my thigh in gentle apology. “You ok?”
Ok? Is she crazy? My breathing sounds loud and harsh in my ears. “Don’t stop”, I say through gritted teeth. I don’t know if I’ve ever been more turned on.
I don’t know how many slaps come after that, five ten a hundred, hard and fast. My ass is on fire but I don’t care because I can almost come from this alone.
“Turn over.” I can tell from her voice that she's wrecked as I am, but I still hesitate. I don't know why but suddenly I feel overwhelmingly shy. My breath hitches in my chest, but I do it.
She’s on me as soon as I do, kissing me wet and sloppy, downright filthy. Her hands are everywhere and she's just wild which is making me crazy.
I pull her down and roll us over. I get on top and ride her thigh; it slips between my legs hot and slick. I'm wet, so wet. One hand rests on my still hot ass, urging me on, the other slips down and she presses gently on my clit and that’s it, I’m gone.
I open my eyes and am caught by her heated gaze. I crawl down with a smirk and place a kiss on her inner thigh.
“Your turn.”
What I'm Listening To Right Now: Breathe - Tristan Prettyman
PS: If you’re ok with boy on boy then you should definitely give this story a look. It was my inspiration. It’s Wincest so it’s dirtybadwrong by many standards, but it’s possibly the hottest spanking story on the internet.
Tuesday, 14 October 2008
She's So Heavy
In the immortal words of Mr. Lennon: I want you so bad it's driving me mad it's driving me mad.
In other words? Porn. Of the female variety. Forewarned and all that.
She likes nothing better than driving me out of my mind. This is just like her, grabbing me before class, yanking me into a bathroom stall, fingering me quick and dirty while my brain flashes red: Danger! Danger! She takes me to the edge before pulling up my jeans, and buttoning them up with a smug smile on her face. A chaste kiss and she walks away with my panties, a scrap of lace in her back pocket.
It’s so hard not to squirm in my seat, unused to the roughness of denim as it rubs up against me. She walks in and starts the lecture, cool and collected, as if she never pressed me to the cool tile whispering dirty nothings into my ear while her fingers were inside me.
Half the guys in the room are at half mast, saluting that hint of cleavage. She's completely indifferent, they don’t have a chance, she’s all mine, the fucking tease.
I press my thighs in together, and try not to moan. My face must show what I’m thinking; her gaze sharpens when I meet her eyes. She pauses. Please please please don’t asking me a question. She does of course. Bitch.
Frantically, I try to piece together what’s been said while I was thinking about the gory of her breasts. I cough; my voice is completely shredded by need. I must have come up with a convincing enough response, because she gives me a curt nod and moves on, her raised brow making me a promise. Good girls get rewards.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: I Want You (She's So Heavy) - The Beatles (what else?)
In other words? Porn. Of the female variety. Forewarned and all that.
She likes nothing better than driving me out of my mind. This is just like her, grabbing me before class, yanking me into a bathroom stall, fingering me quick and dirty while my brain flashes red: Danger! Danger! She takes me to the edge before pulling up my jeans, and buttoning them up with a smug smile on her face. A chaste kiss and she walks away with my panties, a scrap of lace in her back pocket.
It’s so hard not to squirm in my seat, unused to the roughness of denim as it rubs up against me. She walks in and starts the lecture, cool and collected, as if she never pressed me to the cool tile whispering dirty nothings into my ear while her fingers were inside me.
Half the guys in the room are at half mast, saluting that hint of cleavage. She's completely indifferent, they don’t have a chance, she’s all mine, the fucking tease.
I press my thighs in together, and try not to moan. My face must show what I’m thinking; her gaze sharpens when I meet her eyes. She pauses. Please please please don’t asking me a question. She does of course. Bitch.
Frantically, I try to piece together what’s been said while I was thinking about the gory of her breasts. I cough; my voice is completely shredded by need. I must have come up with a convincing enough response, because she gives me a curt nod and moves on, her raised brow making me a promise. Good girls get rewards.
What I'm Listening to Right Now: I Want You (She's So Heavy) - The Beatles (what else?)
Sunday, 12 October 2008
Social Butterfly
The short lifespan part at least.
Growing up I was half in love with Ponyboy from The Outsiders. I also wanted to be him. I thought it was some sort of narcissism.
The only long-term relationship I’ve had in my life is with my best friend. I have trouble maintaining friendships because I panic, feel trapped and obligated, then start to distance myself. My best friend spends most of the year studying abroad and is possibly the world’s least demanding person and one of my favorite people of all time. I’ve known her for nearly ten years. Taco/Starla.
Most of my other friendships either start out very intense, but die out quickly or are on standby year round with occasional short bursts of activity to keep them viable.
I am not a people person.
Nearly a year ago I made new friends. Two guys and a girl. We started off spending nearly every day together. One of the guys drifted off. The remaining guy paired up with the girl. The girl and I remain pretty close. The boyfriend and I are still pretty friendly. Girl and Guy, the Couple.
Of the gay women’s group I hit off pretty well with one girl. We still keep in touch, more or less. She’s smart and funny, and inexplicably fond of my odd thought processes. Jen.
A few years ago I met a fanfiction writer online. I was a fan of her writing, and we started an IM friendship. She was sweet, smart, and funny. Wife to a tattoo artist and mother to a cool kid, and although those things are very much a part of who she is, they don't define her. She’s incredibly talented, and is still online. I stopped talking to her over a year ago. I’d really like to get back that friendship but I don’t know how to start. Tabaqui.
People often underestimate my younger sister. Everyone thinks I’m the smart one because I’m outspoken and she’s pathologically shy. She’s creative, hardworking, and loves to learn. She’s the only person in my family who for the most part accepts me. Violet.
Taco/Starla, Girl!Couple, Boy!Couple, Jen, Tabaqui, and Vi. These are the people I consider friends.
What I'm Listening To Right Now: Grave's Amazing Hands - Dave Barnes
Next Post: Word Porn or Religion. I am yet undecided.
Growing up I was half in love with Ponyboy from The Outsiders. I also wanted to be him. I thought it was some sort of narcissism.
The only long-term relationship I’ve had in my life is with my best friend. I have trouble maintaining friendships because I panic, feel trapped and obligated, then start to distance myself. My best friend spends most of the year studying abroad and is possibly the world’s least demanding person and one of my favorite people of all time. I’ve known her for nearly ten years. Taco/Starla.
Most of my other friendships either start out very intense, but die out quickly or are on standby year round with occasional short bursts of activity to keep them viable.
I am not a people person.
Nearly a year ago I made new friends. Two guys and a girl. We started off spending nearly every day together. One of the guys drifted off. The remaining guy paired up with the girl. The girl and I remain pretty close. The boyfriend and I are still pretty friendly. Girl and Guy, the Couple.
Of the gay women’s group I hit off pretty well with one girl. We still keep in touch, more or less. She’s smart and funny, and inexplicably fond of my odd thought processes. Jen.
A few years ago I met a fanfiction writer online. I was a fan of her writing, and we started an IM friendship. She was sweet, smart, and funny. Wife to a tattoo artist and mother to a cool kid, and although those things are very much a part of who she is, they don't define her. She’s incredibly talented, and is still online. I stopped talking to her over a year ago. I’d really like to get back that friendship but I don’t know how to start. Tabaqui.
People often underestimate my younger sister. Everyone thinks I’m the smart one because I’m outspoken and she’s pathologically shy. She’s creative, hardworking, and loves to learn. She’s the only person in my family who for the most part accepts me. Violet.
Taco/Starla, Girl!Couple, Boy!Couple, Jen, Tabaqui, and Vi. These are the people I consider friends.
What I'm Listening To Right Now: Grave's Amazing Hands - Dave Barnes
Next Post: Word Porn or Religion. I am yet undecided.
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Assholes, Dicks, et al.
MOTHERFUCKER.
For a while now I've been Vice Chair of a certain committee. Due to the time I've taken off, the Chair was someone I had seniority over. I sometimes didn't agree with some of his methods, but fuck it, Pragmatism, whatever, I made not a peep when he was basically running the thing to the ground.
Before he left, he made some noises about me not being the best choice for his replacement. Whatever, asshole, I'm the only choice. So I grit my teeth, smile, make noncommittal noises, whatever, just leave please.
So he leaves he's gone, great. I send him a message with the time and place of the first committee meeting we're having to get reorganized. He doesn't show, fine. His friends decide to leave as well. We meet, make plans, I make a point of referring to myself as 'Acting Chair' lest I offend any sensibilities. We informally agree to meet in a couple of days to check on what progress has been made. I send the people who attended a summary of what happened, including the now vacant positions.
Next meeting, I explain the current distribution of jobs, and what each entails. People protest the vagueness of the situation. I decide to hell with it, and tell them they can decide what on things, offer (insincerely) to step aside for anyone more qualified (I don't believe anyone is). So we talk it out and come to a general consensus.
Lame Duck Dickwad sends me a message demanding to know where I get off making myself Chair and giving out positions without him there. Wait, what? I make the appropriate angry insulted noises. We back and forth for a bit before making fake nice and singing each other's praises. He asks me to take back everything that happened while he was at home with his dick in his hands.
LDD, inconveniencing the world for his ego since 2008. Great start to a glowing post-grad career.
Again, pragmatism. I send out a terse message about disregarding everything that's happened because of decisions made by the previous admin. The person LDD wants for vice chair (incidentally, not who was chosen) calls me all Innocent & Confused. The person chosen as Vice calls me, understandably bewildered. For the sake of conflict avoidance, I claim misunderstanding and departmental red tape. No one else says squat. LDD sends a message magnanimously naming me as Chair and Innocent as Vice.
Please Lord save me from Further Developments.
Also, I would kill to know who LDD's inside source is.
For a while now I've been Vice Chair of a certain committee. Due to the time I've taken off, the Chair was someone I had seniority over. I sometimes didn't agree with some of his methods, but fuck it, Pragmatism, whatever, I made not a peep when he was basically running the thing to the ground.
Before he left, he made some noises about me not being the best choice for his replacement. Whatever, asshole, I'm the only choice. So I grit my teeth, smile, make noncommittal noises, whatever, just leave please.
So he leaves he's gone, great. I send him a message with the time and place of the first committee meeting we're having to get reorganized. He doesn't show, fine. His friends decide to leave as well. We meet, make plans, I make a point of referring to myself as 'Acting Chair' lest I offend any sensibilities. We informally agree to meet in a couple of days to check on what progress has been made. I send the people who attended a summary of what happened, including the now vacant positions.
Next meeting, I explain the current distribution of jobs, and what each entails. People protest the vagueness of the situation. I decide to hell with it, and tell them they can decide what on things, offer (insincerely) to step aside for anyone more qualified (I don't believe anyone is). So we talk it out and come to a general consensus.
Lame Duck Dickwad sends me a message demanding to know where I get off making myself Chair and giving out positions without him there. Wait, what? I make the appropriate angry insulted noises. We back and forth for a bit before making fake nice and singing each other's praises. He asks me to take back everything that happened while he was at home with his dick in his hands.
LDD, inconveniencing the world for his ego since 2008. Great start to a glowing post-grad career.
Again, pragmatism. I send out a terse message about disregarding everything that's happened because of decisions made by the previous admin. The person LDD wants for vice chair (incidentally, not who was chosen) calls me all Innocent & Confused. The person chosen as Vice calls me, understandably bewildered. For the sake of conflict avoidance, I claim misunderstanding and departmental red tape. No one else says squat. LDD sends a message magnanimously naming me as Chair and Innocent as Vice.
Please Lord save me from Further Developments.
Also, I would kill to know who LDD's inside source is.
Wednesday, 8 October 2008
Tuesday's On The Phone To Me
Twice a week, I have a four hour break starting at half past nine. I can’t go home because I have a case of bed related separation anxiety. I’m not agoraphobic, I just hate being outside of my house and around other people. I find prolonged exposure to other human beings emotionally exhausting.
Monday was the first of these empty days. I had no idea what to do with myself. I wasn’t in the mood to read and as usual, I had nothing constructive to do.
In Kuwait, people go to the mall. That’s the only thing we do. If the weather gets cooler I might someplace to walk around outdoors, but this time I went with tradition and headed to the mall. I went to the Avenues, which is Kuwait’s biggest mall, and the closest one to campus. It was pleasantly empty at this time of day, something I haven’t experienced before. I treated myself to chocolate chip pancakes smothered in maple and chocolate syrup/ a heart attack. I had the good fortune to come across the World Press Photo 2008 exhibition.
I spent the better part of an hour wander around admiring the photographs. Some of them were really touching. One of the photos was of a couple who were the victims of anti-gay violence that had broken out at a Pride parade in Hungary. I wonder how it slipped under the morality police’s radar.
Next time a bagel, a fake (read nonalcoholic) Long Island Iced Tea and a book if I can find one that captures my attention.
Monday was the first of these empty days. I had no idea what to do with myself. I wasn’t in the mood to read and as usual, I had nothing constructive to do.
In Kuwait, people go to the mall. That’s the only thing we do. If the weather gets cooler I might someplace to walk around outdoors, but this time I went with tradition and headed to the mall. I went to the Avenues, which is Kuwait’s biggest mall, and the closest one to campus. It was pleasantly empty at this time of day, something I haven’t experienced before. I treated myself to chocolate chip pancakes smothered in maple and chocolate syrup/ a heart attack. I had the good fortune to come across the World Press Photo 2008 exhibition.
I spent the better part of an hour wander around admiring the photographs. Some of them were really touching. One of the photos was of a couple who were the victims of anti-gay violence that had broken out at a Pride parade in Hungary. I wonder how it slipped under the morality police’s radar.
Next time a bagel, a fake (read nonalcoholic) Long Island Iced Tea and a book if I can find one that captures my attention.
Sunday, 5 October 2008
It's Alive
Two days spent groomed, painted, and accessorized to hell and back. Two days serving middle aged women tea and coffee and smiling and blushing when they wish me a nice husband (no thanks). Two days spent tottering around in heels (2 inches are too heels). Escaping on the second night with my nice but boring cousins for dinner and a movie (at least there was sushi).
Three days with my family at a friend’s farm in Abdaly, a rural area in northern Kuwait near the Iraqi border. Mostly made do with a lot of movies and mainlining music. I got to ride a motorcycle, passenger but still. It was pretty and I got to ignore the approaching first day of the school year.
Yesterday was my first day of classes, which for the most part was a whole lot of hurry up and wait. Making sure you get to class on time and then waiting the required fifteen minutes for the professor to show up isn't exactly my idea of a good time.
The only exception was my freshman English class. Why am I taking freshman English? I'm glad you asked. I'm taking it this year because the last three times I've taken it I freaked the hell out halfway the semester and dropped it. Like it was hot even. This class is basically a middle school report writing class that you have to take every. fucking. day. An entire semester of some moron standing over my shoulder telling me how to cite my sources, going over every step of writing a fifteen hundred word paper. Discussing each and every detail for a paper shorter than most homework assignments I've written for my real classes.
Mind crushing boredom terrifies me like nothing else. I get cranky and either get into it with the instructor or just stop showing up. Oh, have I mentioned that you don’t write this ‘paper’ individually? No, it takes teamwork to get through this course.
God help me.
Three days with my family at a friend’s farm in Abdaly, a rural area in northern Kuwait near the Iraqi border. Mostly made do with a lot of movies and mainlining music. I got to ride a motorcycle, passenger but still. It was pretty and I got to ignore the approaching first day of the school year.
Yesterday was my first day of classes, which for the most part was a whole lot of hurry up and wait. Making sure you get to class on time and then waiting the required fifteen minutes for the professor to show up isn't exactly my idea of a good time.
The only exception was my freshman English class. Why am I taking freshman English? I'm glad you asked. I'm taking it this year because the last three times I've taken it I freaked the hell out halfway the semester and dropped it. Like it was hot even. This class is basically a middle school report writing class that you have to take every. fucking. day. An entire semester of some moron standing over my shoulder telling me how to cite my sources, going over every step of writing a fifteen hundred word paper. Discussing each and every detail for a paper shorter than most homework assignments I've written for my real classes.
Mind crushing boredom terrifies me like nothing else. I get cranky and either get into it with the instructor or just stop showing up. Oh, have I mentioned that you don’t write this ‘paper’ individually? No, it takes teamwork to get through this course.
God help me.
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