This isn't a story. And it's not easy for me to tell. This is something I carry with me. It wasn't easy to write because it was pretty personal. I would send it to the person herself but.. if someone reads this and it helps them realize how hurtful they can be, then I'll be glad. It's so easy to be cruel when you're part of a group. But that doesn't make it any more acceptable.
Apology
Here's the thing. I was bullied as a child. But that's not the story. That story is too easy to tell. Covered in a patina of humor and nostalgia, that story is kind of a fun story. It's a story I pull out and tell during lulls in dinner conversation.
The story is that I was a bully.
I never spent very long at a school. Grade school wasn't particularly special. It flew by in a haze of jump rope, school yard taunts, oddball teachers, and kool-aide. At the beginning of middle school, my parents, in their infinite wisdom decided to move me somewhere new. Awkward and new, I didn't fit in very well. I never managed to make any real friends and I disliked most of the kids around me. Not to be outdone, most of them disliked me too. I was subjected to some impersonal bullying and petty little taunts. I had some people I was friendly with, I had some people I was unfriendly with... it wasn't really a big deal. Then I moved again.
I moved to smaller school where everyone seemed to be the same. Determined that I wouldn't repeat my last experience I decided to be friends with *everybody*. Except this one girl. Because there's always a girl in these stories. If I wasn't that girl, then someone had to be, right?
The girl wasn't our friend. The girl wasn't *any body's* friend. She was different you see. She didn't understand us and we didn't understand her. If I was a better person, I would have felt a sense of kinship for this girl who could not manage to belong. That wasn't the case.
I hated this girl. The girl who did nothing but be herself. This girl had so much pressure bearing down on her. Daughter of a teacher, new to the school, different, afraid.. we could have been friends I think, if I was a better person. But you see everyone else hated her too. So why should I be different?
I wasn't. Except sometimes I think I was more cruel than anyone. I tortured this girl. I snubbed her, I mocked her, I called her names.. one time I even raised my hand to her in anger. I wish I could say I felt but about it but.. the more horrible I was to her, the better I felt. You see, I said to myself, she deserves it. She's too strange, too different, she doesn't belong with us. After all, everyone else was doing it.
The only person I know who was smart enough and brave enough to say no was my friend, M. She refused to judge the girl for being something other. She was kind to her. Often she would tell us to lay off the girl. M couldn't stop us though, no one could. I wish someone had.
I will always regret my cruelty to that girl. Who was brave enough to keep being herself through three years of torture. Who tried her hardest not to let us break her. I hope we didn't break her.
The story could end here, with me carrying these regrets, wondering what happened to the girl I bullied. But we live in a digital age. We live in the era of facebook and twitter. Every life you touched will find a way back to you.
The girl, she got back in touch with me a while back. She was friendly and sweet to me. She's happily married with kids. She seems well adjusted. We've never really spoken of those years we spent in the same school. I've never asked her to forgive me. I don't think I have the right. But I will apologize.
A? I'm sorry. I hope you don't carry any pain from those years. I hope you know that I regret every horrible thing I said or did to you. I hope you're happy, I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.
Showing posts with label my life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label my life. Show all posts
Saturday, 20 November 2010
Saturday, 18 April 2009
Though I Have No Camera
My day consists of a few dozen photographs. Sometimes I feel like an uninvested observer, fascinated by the boring details of my life, taking snapshots to document the ordinary. A pair of pale gold ballerina flats carelessly abandoned in the middle of my bedroom floor. Click. The casual intimacy of my unmade bed telling a story far more interesting than the truth of my restless sleep. Click. The view from my windshield of the cars gently gleaming before me as I idle at a traffic light. Click.
Most days, The City (it’s the only city we have) comes up like a revelation as I make my way back home from Shuwiakh on the road that takes you to the Sheraton Roundabout. The City usually breaks up from the flatness of the skyline like a tiny copse of trees and grows larger until it swallows me up. But some days the sky has other ideas. Some days it is The City that is swallowed by the sky, heavy with yellow dust.
Dusty days usually cause me a lot of grief, but on one particular day I lay safe in the arms of the antihistamines I rarely remember to take. On that particular day, free of stuffiness and itchiness and other things best left unmentioned, I noticed that the desert had swallowed up my metropolitan oasis of metal and steel.
Instead of the old familiar face greeting me at our usual place, I was by met emptiness beckoning me closer, and so I drove on. As I approached, buildings began to loom out one by one, shrouded in an unfamiliar cloak of gritty mystery. Instead of the usual merry group, each was a hulking monolith of individuality.
Odd, how an ordinary turn of weather had changed the friendly face of my city into something alien. It seemed everything was muffled, darker. It seemed to me like every structure carried a sort of dull post-apocalyptic sheen, left all alone and condemned to a destiny of solitude. It reminded of a short burst of fiction I once wrote in my original blog.
Some bits and pieces of that recently remembered something...
"We built the world, height upon height, we rose up reaching for the sky. We thought we could leave the mess, the grit and dirt of humanity behind. Reaching out to the clean expanse of sky, dirtying it as we reached... Then they left us here, living in the shadows of what they have wrought, mere skeletons now. Left us with hollow husks, laying under this blotted out sun. What a legacy they’ve left us, cadavers, monoliths, useless, a tribute to a pointless race whose outcome has been lost to time."
As I often do, I wished the I did in fact have a camera.
Er… perhaps I was feeling particularly lonely that day?
What I'm Listening To Right Now: Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say) - Lady Gaga
Most days, The City (it’s the only city we have) comes up like a revelation as I make my way back home from Shuwiakh on the road that takes you to the Sheraton Roundabout. The City usually breaks up from the flatness of the skyline like a tiny copse of trees and grows larger until it swallows me up. But some days the sky has other ideas. Some days it is The City that is swallowed by the sky, heavy with yellow dust.
Dusty days usually cause me a lot of grief, but on one particular day I lay safe in the arms of the antihistamines I rarely remember to take. On that particular day, free of stuffiness and itchiness and other things best left unmentioned, I noticed that the desert had swallowed up my metropolitan oasis of metal and steel.
Instead of the old familiar face greeting me at our usual place, I was by met emptiness beckoning me closer, and so I drove on. As I approached, buildings began to loom out one by one, shrouded in an unfamiliar cloak of gritty mystery. Instead of the usual merry group, each was a hulking monolith of individuality.
Odd, how an ordinary turn of weather had changed the friendly face of my city into something alien. It seemed everything was muffled, darker. It seemed to me like every structure carried a sort of dull post-apocalyptic sheen, left all alone and condemned to a destiny of solitude. It reminded of a short burst of fiction I once wrote in my original blog.
Some bits and pieces of that recently remembered something...
"We built the world, height upon height, we rose up reaching for the sky. We thought we could leave the mess, the grit and dirt of humanity behind. Reaching out to the clean expanse of sky, dirtying it as we reached... Then they left us here, living in the shadows of what they have wrought, mere skeletons now. Left us with hollow husks, laying under this blotted out sun. What a legacy they’ve left us, cadavers, monoliths, useless, a tribute to a pointless race whose outcome has been lost to time."
As I often do, I wished the I did in fact have a camera.
Er… perhaps I was feeling particularly lonely that day?
What I'm Listening To Right Now: Eh Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say) - Lady Gaga
Saturday, 22 November 2008
Mamas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys
Or extroverted antisocial half-assed lesbians with delusions of literary grandeur either.
Most of my days are like chalk sketches on a busy sidewalk, insignificant and worn away by the tread of many feet. I live a decent enough life, but not much happens that is of great value to me. I sleep I wake I laugh I cry, over and over, until it all blurs together, after all it’s only life. Then comes a piece of time that I can snatch out of the jaws of inconsequence. A moment, an hour, a day, an afternoon. An otherwise insignificant singularity that means something to me.
Last night I was with my family at the beach house as usual. They decided to opt out of the ocean view and instead sat out facing the road and the setting sun. A couple of hours into the evening I decided to sneak off for a smoke break. As a friend would say, open scene.
The beach was dark; the surrounding houses oddly abandoned for the weekend. The wind kept tugging on me insistently and the waves were making their presence felt, dashing themselves on the sand with wild abandon. Not the most idyllic setting but lovely nonetheless. Still I could see why people wanting a more… tranquil weekend would choose to be elsewhere. I walked past a couple of properties before finding an alcove in one property’s unforgiving wall, some concrete steps leading from the sand to the gate. I laid back onto the damp chill stone as the water churned before me. Jeff Buckley crooned his sorrow into my ear as I held the cigarette to my lips and drew my first smoke-filled breath of the evening. Bliss.
In other news, does anyone else want to edit artistically shot dimly lit non-porn sex scenes to certain songs? I was listening to Esthero’s I Drive Alone in the car and I just couldn’t. Get. It. Out. Of. My head. Face to face, mouths parted lips nearly touching but not quite there. Cut. Mouth skimming across jaw line, down neck, resting on collarbone. Cut. Hand making its way down inner thigh. Cut. Head tilted back neck arched as mouth is put to breast. Slow, fast, then slow again. Hands, jaws, mostly profiles, always coming back to the mouth. So. Just me then?
Soon, a morning on beach cleanup duty and an afternoon reconnecting with a friend while constantly forgetting to use my indoor voice.
What I’m Listening to Right Now: Ravel’s Bolero – Herbert Von Karajan at the Berliner Philharmonie
Most of my days are like chalk sketches on a busy sidewalk, insignificant and worn away by the tread of many feet. I live a decent enough life, but not much happens that is of great value to me. I sleep I wake I laugh I cry, over and over, until it all blurs together, after all it’s only life. Then comes a piece of time that I can snatch out of the jaws of inconsequence. A moment, an hour, a day, an afternoon. An otherwise insignificant singularity that means something to me.
Last night I was with my family at the beach house as usual. They decided to opt out of the ocean view and instead sat out facing the road and the setting sun. A couple of hours into the evening I decided to sneak off for a smoke break. As a friend would say, open scene.
The beach was dark; the surrounding houses oddly abandoned for the weekend. The wind kept tugging on me insistently and the waves were making their presence felt, dashing themselves on the sand with wild abandon. Not the most idyllic setting but lovely nonetheless. Still I could see why people wanting a more… tranquil weekend would choose to be elsewhere. I walked past a couple of properties before finding an alcove in one property’s unforgiving wall, some concrete steps leading from the sand to the gate. I laid back onto the damp chill stone as the water churned before me. Jeff Buckley crooned his sorrow into my ear as I held the cigarette to my lips and drew my first smoke-filled breath of the evening. Bliss.
In other news, does anyone else want to edit artistically shot dimly lit non-porn sex scenes to certain songs? I was listening to Esthero’s I Drive Alone in the car and I just couldn’t. Get. It. Out. Of. My head. Face to face, mouths parted lips nearly touching but not quite there. Cut. Mouth skimming across jaw line, down neck, resting on collarbone. Cut. Hand making its way down inner thigh. Cut. Head tilted back neck arched as mouth is put to breast. Slow, fast, then slow again. Hands, jaws, mostly profiles, always coming back to the mouth. So. Just me then?
Soon, a morning on beach cleanup duty and an afternoon reconnecting with a friend while constantly forgetting to use my indoor voice.
What I’m Listening to Right Now: Ravel’s Bolero – Herbert Von Karajan at the Berliner Philharmonie
Saturday, 15 November 2008
Flies in Your Eyes
I think I would work much better as a character in a satirical work of literature bordering on the ridiculous, someone thought up on the toilet to fill up the empty spaces between plot development.
I have so much love for Never Mind the Buzzcocks, even if it's not as funny this year. There's nothing quite like mean spirited humor to put a smile on my face.
James Lance played gay sexaholic recovering addict morally ambiguous Spaniard superhero Timebomb on the British comedy series No Heroics. What's not to like about that?
I don't think I'll ever stop loving The Daily Show even if it does get on my nerves sometimes. Mostly an episode can get at least one giggle out of me.
Also, I love Eddie Izzard's standup.
There's something very peaceful about reading mildly depressing gay erotic fiction while you're smoking in your underwear in an empty bathtub.
God, I have such a long week ahead of me. I'm going to have to wake up, get out of bed, show up and do things. This week I can't just faff around pretending to be functional. I find this worrying and somewhat overwhelming.
For the first time since the weather turned, I haven't gone to my grandad's beach house for the weekend, which is a pity since it was a a full moon. Last time my astronomy hobbyist uncle brought out his telescope and we saw Jupiter and the Galilean moons which was pretty cool (and how come there's not a band called that?).
What I'm Listening to Right Now: You Were The Last High - The Dandy Warhols
I have so much love for Never Mind the Buzzcocks, even if it's not as funny this year. There's nothing quite like mean spirited humor to put a smile on my face.
James Lance played gay sexaholic recovering addict morally ambiguous Spaniard superhero Timebomb on the British comedy series No Heroics. What's not to like about that?
I don't think I'll ever stop loving The Daily Show even if it does get on my nerves sometimes. Mostly an episode can get at least one giggle out of me.
Also, I love Eddie Izzard's standup.
There's something very peaceful about reading mildly depressing gay erotic fiction while you're smoking in your underwear in an empty bathtub.
God, I have such a long week ahead of me. I'm going to have to wake up, get out of bed, show up and do things. This week I can't just faff around pretending to be functional. I find this worrying and somewhat overwhelming.
For the first time since the weather turned, I haven't gone to my grandad's beach house for the weekend, which is a pity since it was a a full moon. Last time my astronomy hobbyist uncle brought out his telescope and we saw Jupiter and the Galilean moons which was pretty cool (and how come there's not a band called that?).
What I'm Listening to Right Now: You Were The Last High - The Dandy Warhols
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
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.
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