This, That and the Other.

Makeover.

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 08:19:00 +0000

So, what do you think?

Changelog:

- Most of the people that I used to read are gone. Some of them will be missed.

- The big, scarlet, scripty 'A' that's supposed to be the atheist logo is fucking ugly. I took it off.

- I like this new template. It's clean and effective.

- I've changed locations. I live in Bahrain now (by 'now', I mean as of two years ago).

Testing.

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Mon, 18 Apr 2011 23:29:00 +0000

Hello? *tap* *tap* Is this thing still on?

I wonder if anyone survived the winter.

Blog Action Day, yet again.

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 07:17:00 +0000

The first Blog Action Day in 2007 was about the environment. (my tiny bit)

In 2008, it was about poverty (my other tiny bit).

This year, the issue at hand is climate change.

If you decide to participate, you'll be doing so with names like Google, Greenpeace, The WWF, Avaaz.org, Amnesty International and Care, to name just a few.

Go on, kick up some dust.

Mangoes & Me

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 07:12:00 +0000

It's 3:00 am.

I woke up suddenly about an hour ago. I had been dreaming. Of what, I cannot be certain. A few, fleeting images come to mind.

A beach, very young children, an airplane.

I don't know what to make of them.

But now, as sleep starts to weigh my eyelids down again, my mind is drifting aimlessly.

I'm thinking of mangoes.

Sweet, succulent mangoes.

Of their comfortably familiar taste and smell.

Of how they make me feel like a child again.

Of my grandmother's mango milkshake.

Of how, during summer, my mother used to leave my sister and me in our underclothes and give us one each, and allow us to make absolute messes of ourselves when we were little.

Of how you once tasted of them when I kissed you.

Of feeding them to you with my fingers.

Of the soft slurping sound you'd make as you sucked them into your mouth.

Of the inevitable trickle of juice down your chin.

Yes, I must remember to pick some mangoes up sometime soon.

10 New Commandments Good Ideas To Live And Raise Your Children By

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 09:58:00 +0000

I remember listening as my mother read me the original, biblical 10 commandments when I was a child. My first thought? I'm screwed. I've lied, I've sworn, I've been a brat with my parents and I've had doubts about the bible stories I was told. At about 8 years old, I found myself frantically wondering if I'd committed adultery yet. I was convinced I was going straight to hell.

Now, consider this:

Do not do unto others what you would not want them to do unto you.
In all things, strive to cause no harm.
Treat your fellow human beings, your fellow living things, and the world in general with love, honesty, faithfulness and respect.
Do not overlook evil or shrink from administering justice, but always be ready to forgive wrongdoing freely admitted and honestly regretted.
Live life with a sense of joy and wonder.
Always seek to be learning something new.
Test all things; always check your ideas against the facts, and be ready to discard even a cherished belief if it does not conform to them.
Never seek to censor or cut yourself off from dissent; always respect the right of others to disagree with you.
Form independent opinions on the basis of your own reason and experience; do not allow yourself to be led blindly by others.
Question everything.

These were originally put together on the atheist website http://www.ebonmusings.com. Here's the full article.

Richard Dawkins mentions them in his book "The God Delusion", describes them as "endearing" (I agree) and adds that somewhere in there, he'd like to find room for these:

Enjoy your own sex life (so long as it damages nobody else) and leave others to enjoy theirs in private whatever their inclinations, which are none of your business.
Do not discriminate or oppress on the basis of sex, race or (as far as possible) species.
Do not indoctrinate your children. Teach them how to think for themselves, how to evaluate evidence, and how to disagree with you.
Value the future on a timescale longer than your own.

My point? You do not need religion or the fear of God to be a decent human being.

These rules aren't absolute. Nobody is going to smite you down and damn you to an eternity of being barbecued alive by an evil, winged, goat-demon if you don't follow them.

But doesn't just reading them fill you with a sense of well-being?

Isn't *this* the kind of thing you want to be reading to your children at bedtime?

Of A Boy

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 16:03:00 +0000

I <3

... how I didn't see it coming.

... how I somehow knew.

... how much he laughs.

... how much he makes me laugh.

... how he smells, even after two days in the same shirt.

... how he's slightly shy about us.

... how he shudders in my arms...

... how my body reacts to the sound of his voice even.

... how he sniffs my face and neck like a little puppy dog.

... how he gushes first and then rambles when he's very sleepy.
... making him laugh out loud when he's at work.
... how he's the only person I know that's been bitten by a goat and knows what a computer screen tastes like.
... his 'Pervy Man' face.

... when he scares the living daylights out of me with his slightly insane hand-holding-head-turning-mouth-kissing stunt while riding his bike.
... the holiday we spent in his hometown, every second of it,
from the crazy beer games, to making love by the light of a giant fish tank to 2 am bike rides through the mountains.
... making him sammiches for breakfast
... how much Pop Rocks delight him.
... his man-slut best friend.

... his right pinky finger.
... how he's more ticklish than I am.
... how he always has the patience to explain how stuff works.
... the way he answers the phone when I call.
... refering to him as 'my boyfriend' :D
... being 'in tolerance' with him.
... how I don't care that I'm gushing, I'm fucking happy.

An Ode To Lust

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 07:53:00 +0000

The stillness of the spring night is momentarily disturbed by the light breeze. A breeze so gentle, it doesn’t even awaken the sleeping birds whose feathers it quietly ruffles.

The moon hides among the clouds, cloaking the temple in velveteen darkness, as if it knows. At this, the most ungodly of hours, you can almost hear the temple breathe.

Even the crickets seem reluctant in their night song. Something is different. The air is charged with...expectation.

She enters without a sound, treading lighter than a whispered prayer. And as she does, there is a stirring. Something deep within the temple walls flickers to life.

Her feet caress the warm marble stairs lovingly with every step and she remembers. She has been away for far too long.

The walls reach out to her and she goes to them. She knowingly runs her soft hand over every crack in every sculpture. She murmurs soothingly to the pillars and they almost whisper back in aching response.

She reaches the altar, the sacred inner sanctum, the heart of the temple and lights a candle, revealing her nakedness. The air is suddenly filled with the sweet fragrance of jasmines and she smiles into the night.

She dances among the flickering shadows and her ancient song makes the angels watching, smile down at her with warmth.

The power she wields here is unmistakable.

She loves the temple and it loves her back.

She brings it to life by her mere presence.

The temple, it worships her.

But she is misunderstood, her strength feared. And she is banished from the place she loves, forced to return only when the time is right, under the cover of darkness.

For when the dawn comes, at first light, she must flee. She must disappear into the forest and the temple must remain as it was, before she took hold of it.

Nobody will know she was there, nobody would understand. The walls will fall silent and the marble will turn cold. The eyes of the angels will not twinkle with mischief and their hearts will be pure once more. And the temple will become a place of prayer and devotion as it was meant to be.

But for now, they celebrate the night, the temple and its secret lover.

A Day In The Life Of A Girl

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 14:59:00 +0000

I didn't post yesterday on Blog Action Day.

I don't have an excuse. I don't have a speech. I don't even have my head on straight.

My life's in a bit of mess right now and I'll confess, Blog Action Day wasn't really at the top of my list of priorities.

Maybe 'mess' is a little too strong a word. Upheaval would be more apt. Change is upon me and being as wonderful as I am with change, I'm unraveling quickly.

But then the work day comes to an end and it's time to go home. I sit in the back of the car and curse at how long it takes to reach where I'm going. 20 long minutes later, I'm home. I lay sprawled out, naked, on my queen size bed, let the cold blast from the AC cool me off and wonder about what's for dinner. The lady that cooks for us makes eating a chore.

I can hear my mother watching TV in the living room. I wish she'd turn down the volume. I head to the bathroom, and turn on the shower. The water's warmer than usual. Stupid, fucking summer. What's it going to take to get a cold shower in this country?

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a 7 year old girl is ending her work day too. She's not had a great day either. But that's okay, another hour and half, and she'll be home. She turns around and peers through the darkness to check on her little brother and blind mother that are following her lead. Because they're all walking barefoot, her brother has a bell tied to his ankle so his mother can hear him.

They're finally home. To her grandmother's disappointment, the day the family spent begging in the market wasn't very fruitful. Not unlike most nights, they go to sleep hungry. With any luck, it won't rain tonight. There're holes in the reed roof. If it rains, their little bamboo hut (about the size of a queen size bed), will fill with water.

The little girl spends the next morning collecting firewood and water to drink. The fact that the well is covered in dust and mosquito larvae doesn't seem to bother her. Her infected sore eyes don't seem to be causing too much discomfort either. She carries the 20 kilo (well over half her own body weight) buckets home. A tiny frog crosses her path as she walks. When the dry season comes, she and her older sister will trek into the forest nearby to hunt for these frogs and the little crabs that live under the big rocks. Their one meal for the day.

I get out of the shower and wrap my wet hair in a big towel. As I moisturize my hands and feet, I can hear the stupid TV show my mother is still watching. I've skipped dinner because I don't eat chicken and I can't stand cauliflower. I crawl under my blanket feeling sorry for myself and in 10 minutes I'm asleep.

Tomorrow is another day.

(The Little Girl)

Here We Go Again

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sat, 16 Aug 2008 08:18:00 +0000

Yes, Blog Action Day is coming up again.

Last year, the cause was the environment.

This year, it's poverty.

Which is an ironic subject for me because I live in one of the richest countries in the world, and back home, people are living in poverty so abject, it'll make your stomach tighten and your heart bleed just thinking about it.

And yet, even as we live the comfortable lives we take for granted here in Kuwait, people suffer.

Right under our noses.

They struggle, they get beat down and their spirits are stolen. The injustice and cruelty they have to live through each day will shock you speechless. Or maybe not.

It's easier to just look away and pretend it doesn't exist. Because doing something is just too much of a hassle. We've all got our own problems anyway, yes? And it's not like we can save EVERYONE now, is it?

Well, here's the chance to do something that might actually be worthwhile without having to get our $100-manicured hands dirty.

Can you spare a couple of minutes, at least?

Blog Action Day 2008 Poverty from Blog Action Day on Vimeo.

Silver

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Thu, 07 Aug 2008 14:09:00 +0000

Today, on Thursday, the 7th of August, 2008, at around 8:00 am, as I looked at myself in the mirror, I discovered my first strand of grey hair...

...and I fucking love it.

:D

Awake

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 15:10:00 +0000

I'm watching you sleep.

Not thinking, just watching you.

My mind is still and I am at peace, as are you.

You give me peace.

I'm watching you sleep.

You've left me, you've drifted far away.

You don't even know I'm so close, but I can't get any closer without waking you.

I want so badly to wake you, to bring you back to me, but I don't.

I'm watching you sleep.

And I run my finger lightly along the knuckles of your tightly-balled fist.

How can something this tiny wield so much power?

How does your vulnerability make you so strong?

I'm watching you sleep.

Untouched by the world, momentarily separated from the madness,

By translucent eyelids of gossamer silk.

I'm afraid to even breathe on them.

I'm watching you sleep.

And you are safe, I promise.

I love you with everything I have.

More even, than those to whom you belong.

Warm and fuzzy

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sun, 20 Jul 2008 08:21:00 +0000

Yes, I'm a total sucker for this stuff.

<3

Source: I CAN HAS CHEEZBURGER?

Here goes my tag virginity.

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 10:42:00 +0000

It's true.

It's my first time.

Dyke in Saudi, be gentle with me, please.

*snicker*

I had to think long and hard to come up with my 6 most unspectacularest quirks.

But it turns out I don't know the difference between a quirk that's 'spectacular' and one that's not. So here are mine, one way or the other:

I don't wear jewelry. I hate it with a passion. There're very few things in the world that can make my skin crawl more than the feel of a gold chain. Just writing about it makes me nauseous.
Butterflies are the other thing. They should be eradicated. And then banned from history books. And museums. And ever being mentioned again.
I crack my elbows. They make this reassuring *pop* sound that relaxes me.
I call all dogs 'puppies'. Including police sniffer-dogs that'd make a snack out of me in seconds. (Yes, that nearly happened)
When I'm tired or drunk (or both), a nerve in the middle of my forehead starts to show. Everyone knows about it. It's very annoying.
The second toes on both my feet are eerily long. They look like little penises.

There.

Unlike my other first time, this wasn't so bad :D

I know I'm supposed to tag 6 people, but this is my first tag and I'm not sharing.

SO HA! Bite me.

Mayflower afternoons and starry nights

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 07:14:00 +0000

*stretch*

So, I'm back in Kuwait.

I was away for just twelve days, but it was a much needed break.

This holiday was...full.

They handed me my brand new niece and godchild a few days ago. I remember almost as clearly, the day they handed me her father like that, twenty one years ago.

She has long fingers and pretty feet.

You know how they say that sometimes, you have to jump off a cliff and build your wings on the way down? I jumped. We jumped. We just landed in different places. I still miss the morning crossword, though.

Back where I've returned from, lovely Mayflower trees in full bloom line the streets. Quiet, shaded lanes are carpeted in flowers. Sometimes, when the breeze picks up, the street comes alive in swirls of red and you can't help but smile as a stray raindrop trickles down your nose.

I've woken up in the morning to a cacophony of birdsong and fallen asleep to the sounds of crickets chirping in chorus.

I spent afternoons stretched out in the sunlight, drinking chilled beers in the company of good friends. I spent a quiet night, high above the city, stretched out on a deck chair in the moonlight, having conversations with a girl and blended Scotch whiskey.

I floated around in a pool shaded by a beautiful old tree and watched tiny bats swoop down for a split-second drink of water at dusk.

I ate with my fingers, met good people, smiled at strangers, played with stray dogs, walked in the rain and kissed my grandmother.

Yes, this holiday was full.

Doctor

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Thu, 01 May 2008 08:16:00 +0000

A man went in to see his doctor.

Doctor: You need to stop masturbating.

Man: Why?

Doctor: Because I'm trying to examine you.

Marriage, Life and Song

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Mon, 21 Apr 2008 13:27:00 +0000

I recently met a 21 year old Kuwaiti bride. She wasn't studying, hadn't worked a day in her life and was on top of the world about marrying her nephew who she'd only spoken to twice in person. From what she told me, 'he saw her once and he loved her'. This worried me. I worried for her. I also worry about my friends who worry that, at 25, they aren't engaged to be married. They make me want to grab them by the shoulders and shake them so hard, their brains rattle and their teeth fall out.

MY GOODNESS! It's unfathomable how much there is in life to see, feel, do and experience. I know you can't do it all. But does that mean you shouldn't try and do everything you possibly can? Your youth and the strength that comes with it, those're the two things you'll miss the most when they're gone. There's so much we're capable of. All we have to do is want it bad enough.

Many people will argue that procreation is the natural order of things. Well, guess what. There IS no natural order of things anymore. Not when it comes to human beings at least. WE decide what to do with our lives, our bodies and our genes. That is what sets us apart from less intelligent beings, like monkeys and goats. We can think, reason and make logical choices (most of us, at least). We have, essentially, defied nature with those abilities. In most ways, we're no longer slaves to our baser instincts. We decide whether or not we want to mate, bear children, wander the earth, live or just exist.

Why are we here? We are here to do whatever the fuck we want. That's just how it is.

Richard Dawkins has a more eloquent explanation in his brilliant, exciting and slightly scary Discovery Science documentary 'The Big Question: Why are we here?' (Part 1, Part 2 & Part 3). It's worth the watch.

Okay, I'm done. For now.

Want to hear something pretty?

This is Roy Orbison's original 'Crying'.

And this, *sigh* , is Rebekah Del Rio's hauntingly powerful, Spanish acappella version from the movie 'Mulholland Drive'.

Marina Waves

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 09:12:00 +0000

If there was a hell, every employee of Marina Waves would be burning there, slowly stewing in their own juices, their skins sloughing off their bodies, their innards oozing out of every orifice...you get the idea.

Here's why.

Suggestions

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sat, 12 Apr 2008 08:40:00 +0000

No, this isn't going to be about the storm last night. I wasn't part of it.
I was on a beach far away, where all we felt was a cool breeze. There was some lightning far out over the sea, but that's about it.

Boys, a word to the wise. When you see a girl that you think you might want to get to know (and then some), standing alone at a distance and staring holes into her back isn't going to work. Also, dancing alone close to the bunch of people she's dancing with doesn't exactly make you look like Danny Zuko. That's more Norman Bates' thing.

What you want to do is try and make eye contact a couple of times. Smile at her. Wait till she notices you and then start a conversation with something that'll make her laugh. Trust me, that works. Most of the time at least.

Also, you need to not be drunk off your ass and punctuating your sentences by spitting in her eye.

And lastly, when she's watching men in tiny Speedos playing volleyball, don't block her view.

Dear 'Somebody'

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Mon, 07 Apr 2008 12:58:00 +0000

Last night, I finally told a friend about this here blog.

It's not something I tell people about, but PEOPLE, eventually found out.

And it seemed unfair that she didn't know when THEY all knew.

So, dear 'Somebody', as a token of peace (or something), here's a whole post dedicated to you.

No, I'm not going to go and on about you. This is all you get, Ms. Full-of-Yourself.

Deal with it.

I know what you're wondering and yes, I have mentioned you once. But just in passing *snicker*

And just to show you I mean well...here, your yucky-ass song.

Of Showers And Green Tea

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 22:06:00 +0000

He heard her chuckle under the big, luxuriant towel as he dried her hair with it. Of course, he knew what she was thinking. They'd nearly fallen in the shower. They'd laughed it off, but explaining a dead, naked girl in the shower would've tested his creative genius to its outer limit. What would he tell the police? His parents? His fiancee? This was what she was thinking. He didn't find it that funny.

He sunk down into his couch and turned on the TV. They had another half an hour or so together before she had to leave for work and he had to remove all trace of her from his home. Nobody could know that she'd been there. Soon, he'd never see her again. We have time, he thought, and tried to focus on the TV.
Robotica was on.

She returned from the kitchen with two mugs of piping hot green tea with mint. She was still wearing nothing but his towel around her. She put the mugs on the table, plopped down into his lap and put her arms around his neck. He smiled at her. She noticed he had that look on his face. She loved that look. It was on his face when she ran towards him in the waiting car. It was on his face when they caught each other's gaze sometimes across a crowded room. She asked him once what that look meant. "I don't know" he'd answered.

She took his face in her hands and kissed him softly on the mouth.

By the time they got to the tea, it was cold and undrinkable.

LOLDamnation

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 14:36:00 +0000

I'm sorry. I tried, but I couldn't resist.

Source: http://loltheist.com

Les Poopiz

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sun, 17 Feb 2008 13:16:00 +0000

This post was inspired by L's Brain.

I apologize for the quality of the video and photos, all I had with me at the time was my not-so-fancy mobile phone.

All the animals you are about to see are currently living at the Animal Friends League of Kuwait shelter, awaiting adoption.

This, is true <3.

Fuck Valentine's

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 11:09:00 +0000

People that do Valentine's are idiots.

The whole idea is cheesy and nauseating. How something this tacky didn't get made illegal is beyond me.

If Valentine's Day is a big deal to you, you're a big, ol' sucker. If you're so sick of your money, just give it to charity, or better yet, send it to me, instead of letting card companies, toy shops, flower shops, jewelry stores and chocolate factories make you flush it down the crapper.

If I see another heart, another teddy bear, another red balloon, another red rose or another asshole dressed in red, I'm going to jail for involuntary manslaughter. Please send me toothpaste and intimate wash.

And no, this has nothing to do with the fact that I'm single. I loathed Valentine's even when I wasn't.

Darkness & Light

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Sun, 03 Feb 2008 07:08:00 +0000

Death looked out over the disappearing horizon and rubbed his cold hands together.
The sun had taken with it its light and warmth.
The darkness that enveloped everything seeped into every fibre of his being.
He cursed under his breath and continued to walk.

He had done this. It was the work of his hands.
He had caused the darkness, he knew that.
And he hated it, but there was no other way.
He couldn't stop now, he had to keep walking.

There was more light somewhere and he would find it.

28

noreply@blogger.com (Ri) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 13:26:00 +0000

And so, here I am. Another year older. It doesn't feel like it, though.

It started off interestingly enough.
I've never been blindfolded and kidnapped before.

I have a twisted sister and friends.

But standing there, slightly disoriented from being led around in total darkness, listening to them singing a very off-tune "Happy Birthday", their comfortably familiar, slightly drunk, beaming faces illuminated only by the light from candles on a yummy chocolate-hazelnut cake, I was bursting with love. And gratitude.

I'll miss every one of them sorely when I'm gone.

I got lots of nice, thoughtful things and I didn't have to fake appreciation at all. I love when that happens.

The rest of the day was more or less unremarkable. That's because the real party's a little later. THAT...is going to be something.

La sorella had a rough day though. I just wish it hadn't ended as badly as it did for her. I don't know how much of that was my fault, she won't tell me. Even if she doesn't want to, I just hope she knows how much I want to fix it.