Hypocrisy and the Nine Bunnies

Thats what one of Grimms fairy tales should have been named. And the moral should have been that the more overtly a hypocrite you are, your decapitated head will roll no matter how cute.

I'm sure thats one of our fascinating humanly natured traits where we just cant get through the day without saying one thing and doing the other. Its amazing how many things it can apply to. Its also amazing how I tend to always catch these dualities so clearly and then they feel like the itch on the part of your back you cant reach. I didnt say I aint a hypocrite, its just that I havent caught myself being one.

Life ought to come with a voice recorder and a red basket of chocolate brownies. The latter just a bonus since we were prolly created for the amusement of some higher species.

Life's Lessons

....Well its funny how the darn phone only rings when you dont carry it with you to the loo. And I pretty much always do. Then you begin to wonder is it your ex? Or the guy you had a fling with two months ago? Or your client who's supplies you never delivered? Or the supplier who you forgot to take the goods from to deliver to your clients? It could prolly be accounts wondering where the darn money went...

And then you wander out of the shower mid soaped because the suspense begins to kill you even though you stepped into the shower and demanded yourself to not be affected.

This all probably is a useful metaphor that could look really profound in comparison to the crap life dishes out, but I'm not getting it.

Rascist Bastards

Nothing irks me more than the fact that they get paid more because of the color of their skin. I do know there's so much more to it, but since when did anyone who seeks justice forgive the fact that the spoon you were born with in your mouth matters.

I hate the fact that some nationalities get paid more here in Kuwait, and thus are given just that much. While importing fucking whites (nothing personal of course) costs just about double, and while some do half the work the coloreds do, or half as well as the coloreds do it even, they'll still get paid more. Bull fucking shit, man. Maybe that's why I support inter racial marriages. It brings the world together, like a wise shworma guy once told me.

Or maybe some day, it'll change. The way dusky skin came into vogue. Maybe black gold will be worth its weight in gold even.

Yet another January

Resolutions are cliched, but then again so is everything else that our brain restricts itself to. It's infuriating to think that our minds were meant to be powerful tools, but as a general mass we have been brainwashed to think between the two lines drawn crookedly by media. Thats too interesting a point to discuss with you so I'll saunter back to telling you about the resolutions I'm making up for the fun of it.

Its January, and we're programmed to think that this month of the year will incite us to actually act on the impulse of starting over. (which really is not an impulse but a robotic reaction perfected over the years- you resolve in january, amend for your convenience in February, neglect inApril, forget about it for 7 months and then regretfully feel guilty suddenly in December. I might have even forgotten a month there)

I've resolved learn a dash of the guitar, practice the lil of the foreign languages I've now forgotten, pierce my eyebrow :-), read a book a month, start up my business, start sketching again, travel to two different places, have a random fling (I'm running out of things to do), expand the business clientele, nourish this blog, watch alot of old movies in monotones; and since this list has been undergoing editing for the whole of this month, I'll have to come up with one less thing to do apparently.

I just hope this isnt the year I say fuck this shit and just abandon it all and go hitchhike around the world. Its a bitch that all these books/ movies make that route seem so damn bloody worth it.

Dusk in Kuwait

The picture posted above is a very good example of why I should keep this blog very anonymous. Anyway, thought this picture beat the gold in the picture of the sunset I clicked on the Marina Promenade. That was what I initially intended to preoccupy myself with until better things happened. I didnt say I didnt suck at photography.

Making up for Whats not There

I always wear make up to work, as my line involves sucking up, kissing ass, batting mascara saturated eyelashes, smiling alot and looking interested- marketing and sales really. I re-assigned my meetings to other people today so I could fiddle with this brand new shiny blog and stick some chimes or eye hurting bling in it. Wound up not wearing any make up, coz I wasnt going to unglue my ass from my seat.

And then, a nightmare. Colleagues glanced at me with ghastly expressions as they walked in, did a double take and looked away. Then they looked at me again, and said gravely, "Did you catch it on your holiday at the islands?"; Someone else was more audaciously forthright when she asked me with grave disgust," Hun, I told you not to pet stray dogs. Now, is it contagious?"

I was furious. I mean, I know I look better with make up but did they psychologically embed that plastic doll look into their heads that they couldnt accept the (a little more than) half-prettier-than-usual me? And then I snuck a peek into the mirror. UGH! I looked like something a stray cat just spat out, and though I realised it was a combination look of hungover-just woke up-cold struck- I only began to wonder how made up was I, literally and metaphorically.

Make up is a powerful weapon, but like a weapon - you cant do much with a 98k Mauser Carbine if you dont know how to use it. Make up is like a mask, it hides, it empowers, but like with any weapon you're up in arms and untouchable by anyone, and unreachable.

I wonder if the more make up you wear, the less atractive you become (to others and to yourself) without it. And the fact that you think you are less attractive, you might just get more unattractive due to psychosomatic suggestions? Its a long shot, but make up is beginning to seem more a fall from grace and a substitution for substance than fulfilling the purpose it should have been which would be accentuating something already there.

Note: When I begin to start psychobabble please pelt me with mangoes, tomatoes and such. Just make sure I'm not wearing white okay?

First Post-- Ohmigod Oooh Aaaah What do I Write About and All That Crap.

This is absolutely ridiculous. I cant believe I actually had to wonder throughout today about what might the mighty first post be. Do you care? Would you take the trouble to hit my archives all the way and figure out how or why this began? Well if you are reading this I guess you did. Wellll. Uh.... What were you expecting anyway, an introduction?

I hope coz I dont think thats more than you're gonna get. I live in Kuwait, I'm in my early 20's and I only yesterday banned myself from listening to music. Thats a long story, but its still another story that might require me to draw a parallel of music and drugs; and I might even throw in a handful on addiction. Especially since it is the essence of my forbidding me to listen to it. Another story I said already dammit.

Why the blog? Well, I had another one and I impulsively tore it down two days ago as it was moulding itself rather graciously into everything it wasnt supposed to be. Then, a friend calls claiming he's found my blog finally- the one I denied having all along. And I check it only to find that there's this chic who's living the duplicity of my life and doing a better job at it. Actually see, thats the thing; she wasnt. But, she was writing about it so much better than I could and that was severely pissing off. I've wanted to be a bloody writer all my life and even graduated in literature. That didnt shake off the Writers Block, it just twisted on the couch its got in my head and changed the channel on the TV it also seems to have in there and continued watching whatever the hell channel it gets in there. I've lived with writers block for so long I should give the little bastard a name.

Whats the secret of writing well? Don't read your posts until you conclude it so your thoughts flow and you can later shape it? Do you read books of the style you like to write in to evoke inspiration? Or do you not read them. Or do you not read at all; because somewhere I once read - " You either live life or you write about it" From which I conveniently (and perhaps wrongly fashioned) "You either read about life or write about it" (Lets leave that as logical deductions)
Perhaps you simply fry your brain cells with some Vodka to get them running around in circles and churn out a good piece of work. Keats, Shelley and those boys stoned themselves out a story....

Maybe........... Maybe its simply that you write when you are not expecting anyone to read it. Maybe thats when you write without inhibitions, without fear of judgement, unaltered thoughts streaming and strutting out on their own terms unabashed. Maybe its when you decide to give up writing thats when it will come to you. I mean, thats how the world works most of the time, havent you noticed- they even made up the word irony for it. Anyways I wound up with marketing and business and crap, so writing shouldnt be too perturbed.

Maybe I dont need to name the little bastard yet after all.


Coming Up Next: The uglier you are, the easier it is to find love.