Letter II

Not-so dear (male) homosexuals,

Wassup? First, let me congratulate you for the emphasis the media has been inforcing in favor of your 'story', for the past decade or so. Now that I think of it, I should be congratulating the media in convincing you that the lie of a story they publicize is true.

I'd like to know, but really I don't, why it is that you faggots take it personally when someone calls you homos? See? See what you made me do? You have me all confused now, you don't want to be called faggots, nor homos.

Anyway that's beside the point. So yeah, no, I don't hate you. No, I'm not homophobic. Yes, I feel sorry for you. I really, really do. You're probably going all sissy on me right now, hands on your waist and whining like a little bitch that you don't need my sympathy. You're right, you don't. You need your own, you need to understand that there's more to life than just attraction and sexual orientation and relationships. Grow up, if there's anything I ask from you homos (nicest way possible), it's that I urge you to grow up. Yeah, you may as well 'be' everywhere. Have the same jobs, drive the same cars, and everything else "we" (I'm not going to suggest that we are 'normal') do. But then again, your whole life revolves around something that is just plain sad. Fuck you and your ambitions, I don't care if you wanna be president; you're still a homo. Yes, I am saying that makes you a lesser person. No, you don't have to take my word for it.

Which brings me to my next point. If I say that I don't like, nor approve, of your ways nor would I accept you for who you are; what has that got to do with you? No really, what? Like, are you suggesting that you need my reassurance that your life is okay, and without it you'd get all worked up? What, you're going to go all 'homo' on me and want to talk about it in a room with only two lit candles?
Why is it that when someone makes it explicit that he or she does not approve of your way of life, you take it as if your world shatters? It doesn't, so just be happy there aren't more crazy mofos out there willing to kill one of you to prove their point. Don't you try, don't you even think about saying I'm okay with murder. Yeah, I know a thing or two about how a homo mind's works.

You see, I really think you're decent human beings. I really do. You're not defected, and you sure as hell ain't retarded. You're just stupid, plain and simple. I think naive is a better word, but yeah, I'll go with stupid. Now you're probably back at doing the hand-on-waist-thing and spitting 30 words a second about how narrow-minded I am and what not. Guess what? I wouldn't even care. Unlike you, I don't need your approval of my way of life, nor my way of thinking. Not even my sexual orientation. If I happen to think that women are beautiful and 'wouldn't mind', ba3ad ethenkom ya3ni, sleeping with them; that doesn't mean I'm objectifying women. You, on the other hand, look at one another and see nothing but an object. Relationships? You wanna be a couple? You wanna dedicate songs on 99.7 and call up Fozeya Ledrai3 telling her how your better-half isn't as tender and loving as when you first met? Well that just proves my point, doesn't it. You're in it for the wrong things, and for that I sympathize. Yes I am implying that the only motivation for any long-term relationship is to live together till death do us part, and I also think that the idea of having kids is also one of the biggest motivations.

Being the homo that you are, let me tell you what you're thinking about right now. You're calling up "your crew", telling them that this world is full of haters and all that homo-talk. Which really is typical since I do insist on your needing one another for support, and reassurance. So anyway, you're thinking "naaaah naah na naaa, what about those who can't have kids, naaaaa na naa naaah'. Or probably something as silly as 'me and my partner can always adopt'. Let me put it this way, all you think you know about yourself, you learned from one another, probably watching movies or something. I don't need to challenge you for it being true, I just need you to STFU if you're really happy about who or what you are.

Now, you haven't 'seen the light', so what is up with all the gay-pride stuff? Oh okay, I get it, you're celebrating "the scientifically proven fact that you are the way you are because of some genes passed along to you". Didn't I tell you that you just NEED, and in dire need, of reassurance to keep convincing you that you are what you really are?

No I'm not pretending to know more about you homos than you do about yourselves; I'm just saying that deep down inside you know it. That's why I feel sorry for you and that's why I don't approve of your life. I am a compassionate guy, you see, I just happen to say it in a different way. You can put that phone down now, and you can go back to seeking attention, and blaming society or genes for all the things that you just couldn't deal with.

I could just see it now. "There were gays all the way back to x century, and there wasn't any mediums you speak of that channel our interests". How would you know what their being gay constituted of? Oh, attraction to the similar sex, you mean? I thought you homos were more, like, had a whole way of life or something. Just STFU. Or you're gonna say something like, "but it was proven scientifically that..." blah blah blah.

I think that's about it. Espicially considering that there is NOTHING to speak about in the first place. As I say, there isn't anything wrong with you or something like that. You're just either way too horny or way too stupid. Your 'ancestors' aren't really your ancestors, so stop saying they are. Unless you want to tell me how you and whoever-it-is-you-say-was-a-homo are related? Yeah, didn't think so heh.
They were just the same as you right now, either too horny or way too stupid. I don't intend for this letter to sound like I'm a "gay basher" (man, the things you come up with), I intend it to be a message for you from all my heart, outside the boundaries of religion and social acceptance. No, not because they don't apply. But, honestly now my not so dear homo un-friend, it's because you're way too stupid to understand what religion or social acceptance would be discussing.


PS: This letter is a spin-off/prequel/sequel from/to Gigi's post.

I had the misfortune to accomodate a comment from a homo on this topic, so I'm dedicating this to all the homos out there as a sign of .. friendship? heh


ليسمح لي الدكتور

I respect Dr Naji Il Zaid. Although sometimes his discussions are a bit .. unworthy of discussion (?), he makes up for it in most of his articles. I am constantly getting the impression that he has studied in the UK, because he constantly refers to Britain and its system/actions/reactions, spoken like someone who knows what's up.

Dr Il Zaid basically condemns the Ministry of Information for its 'banning' of certain books in its book exhibition. He does so because he believes that such an action taken by the Ministry only helps in the spread of the book. A valid point, and a good one at that, since he later goes into showcasing what the internet can do if it were to be utilised in spreading the book or whatever.

Dr Il Zaid draws a comparisson on how the British government has dealt in the past, and is dealing with preventing certain books, or the media from publishing certain news. He praises the government's ways because it 'goes through' the legal system. But then again, the books and news are published.

Now, my unsettlement with this is the fact that Dr Il Zaid acts as if he's dumb, when I know that he's not. The purpose of any 'official' institution to declare opposition towards a certain something, is to jot down in history that it does not approve of such a thing. That, ofcourse, is the case when officials know that other means of access are existant, should 'the people' choose to pursue whatever it is the official institution opposed in the first place.

Also, Dr Il Zaid is "sorry" that this is happening when Dr Anas Il Rshaid is Minister, and explicitly mentions his sorrow is due to the fact that Dr Il Rshaid 'studied Mass Communication in the United States'. What if he studied in Kuwait University? Would that have been okay?
To be 'granted' a Ministry, one does not have to have a background in the Ministry's field. That is simply because a Minister's duties are political, and not "field-oriented".

Dr Il Zaid knows that. He also knows that studying in the US or the UK does not make someone better, or more knowledgeable; therefore stuffing it in has no effect whatsoever. Dr Il Zaid also knows that an official institution's stances are to mark either approval or disapproval towards a certain case. He also knows that everyone knows what the internet can do.

Dr Il Zaid should excuse me for saying: you, sir, have no point and as the British would say, are talking rubbish.


"شالعيشة كل شي ممنوع"

This is going to address most of you. Okay all of few, except a few is much more accurate.

Some things are fixed and some things are not. Therefore when someone refers you back to a fixed thing, he is obviously not making it up; merely telling you about it. He is not held responsible for explaining to you why 'x' is the case. It just is. Come to think of it, you probably know 'x' is the case, but choose to make up an excuse for violating it anyhow.

For example, when I tell you 'listening to songs is forbidden', I don't need to tell you why. I don't need to convince you. I don't need to listen to your excuses. Fuck you and your excuses. All I am doing is telling you how it is, end of story. It's not personal, so just get over it.

Yes, I used to listen to songs. Yes, I know they're 'enjoyable'. And yes, WALLAH YES, I know sometimes 'they tell your story'. I also know that quitting is easy. In addition to knowing that, I happen to know that once you quit, songs just aren't that 'important' anymore. Yeah, I know a lot of things, and that's because I've been there. I really am trying to make it easy on you here.

Sometimes, someone would excuse himself or herself by saying "ee bas ana ma agsid shay lama asma3, o tara il a3mal bel neyaat". To that I say, what the fruit? Mo kelman 7afathlah kelmetain yeg3ad ye3eed o yezeed feha 3aad. I don't see you going around getting drunk and then say "that's just me, man. It's what I am." Note: for those of you who actually do go get drunk and say that, fuck you and who you 'are'. Yeah.
Other times, someone would say "shal 3ogad, laish 7aram? ma nestanes ya3ni? sheno, kel shay mamno3?" To that I say, la bilaah kadaina khair. How fucked up does one have to be for him or her to find entertainment in songs and songs only? More importantly, what kind of a character judges open-mindedness on such a scale?

Then again, who do you think you are going around excusing yourself and shying from responsibility? Responsibility towards yourself, that is. As for myself, this is different. I'm not telling you something which I derived (as you obviously did), I'm just passing along a message. A message set before you and I, and will continue after you and I. So yeah, give me one good reason why you would be worthy of challenging something like that?

When someone says that something is forbidden, a lot of people would argue. And it's a fact of life. Sects within one religion are indeed divided and sure do have their differences. But they never ever contradict in the widely known, let us say, fixed 'laws'. When I 'REPORT' to you that premarital sex is forbidden, just know it. Don't try to convince me otherwise. Not because you should care what I care, but because we both can just go and fuck off since neither you nor I are entitled to an opinion. Even those who have studied religion and its teaching all their life, they don't have a say in stuff like this. They really really don't. So don't try to quote one of them and try to impose it. If you have something to say to something like that, you might as well just forget about it.

As I say, I'm not making this up. I'm just telling you how it is. I don't give a fuck what or why you do so and so, but I do have a duty to 'report' to you if I see you doing so and so.

Songs are forbidden. 'But oh, they're fun!'. Men gas 3alaikom galekom we are here to have fun?

Note: There is a lot of talk and variation about 'classical music' and instrunments and all that stuff, so to play it safe - pun intended, this is mostly in relation to s o n g s. Aghaani. Dagdega. Sabboo7a.



Working out can cause more harm than good for a guy. He senses the attitude towards him even when he's with his family going out. He sees it in the eyes of others when he's standing in row bel jam3eya. If he has one hand on the steering wheel, he turns to meet the stare of those alligned next to him on a red light. When he's being nice, you think he has an agenda. When he's acting normally, you think he's a dick.

No I'm not on steroids, all natural baby, WooHoo. But I know this to be true for two main reasons:
a) It happens all the time when I make the time to go to the gym for 2 weeks straight.
b) It happens almost every time I wear a t-shirt.

Oh yea, you know the t-shirts I'm talking about. The ones you just love to hate. Tight around the arms, fitted to the shoulders. Yeah bitch, I see you lookin'.

For those of you who know me, you know I have it easy since I'm not one of those pumped up on primo and decca and look no where near them. But when I'm out with one of my friends who are, it just gets... insulting (?) I guess.

I mean this one time we were in il Fanar's parking lot in the basement. We walk towards the lift and there's this group of girls, like 17-19 year olds. We walk in, and instantly you could just feel the tension in the air. The looks, the whispers. We're right here, you know?

So anyway the lift opens and they rush in, hands on their bags and give us the 'look'. No, I'm not imagining this and you know it's true. Still quiet, we go in and take the other corner. Shakelna ig6aawa wallah kel wa7ed raasa bel arth. We arrive at the cinema floor and while trying to get the tickets from the damn machine (the one which never works the first time, ely you book online), you see the moms rushing their kids away as if we're going to kidnap them or something. What the fuck, mom?

We make the mistake of our lives and walk in 10 minutes early before the show. The guys with their families in the upper rows keep an eye on us just incase we decide to make a move on one of their sisters or something. Sh teswa 3alaik ten6ag hehe. Chill, mafakah.

Needless to say, we took the stairs back down after the movie.

You probably have this misconception that all guys who look like they work out are gay or something. Well I got news for you, you're gay for thinking that. And yeah, gay is an insult so STFU. As far as steroids are concerned, loads of my friends are on that shit (and yes, one can do without), and loads of them are married. Many are parents for quite some time, while many others continue to have newborns.

Anyway, next time you come across somebody who looks like he works out, remember this post. To the guys, we do have families too, you know. And girls trust me, we wouldn't take notice of all the above if it weren't just so damn obvious on your part. Now STFU before I beat you up.

*This post is brought to you by "I-haven't-had-a-decent-workout-in-three-months".
*You doesn't refer to you. Same goes for STFU, so yeah, STFU.


ناوي على عمري

Inspired by the comments on Om Mejrin's latest topic.

Women are not to be objectified. Yes. Women have rights. True. It is okay for a woman to work. Sure. A woman who is married is no less than the above. Naturally. Now, mothers are not women-full-stop. They are mothers-full-stop. Yeah, true story. 'Mother' is a whole other word with a whole different meaning. Its only relation, if you may, to the word 'woman' is that they are both under the classes 'human' and 'female'.

There are a million factors that come together if and when a mother decides to leave work. And then some. Because I'm not a mother (true story?), you can say I don't know what two of these factors would be. But I could take one wild guess, and still have credit to go on.

Children. Anyone who has spent any time with a child knows that they are a lot of work. They (children) don't just happen to wake-up after 2pm and go back to sleep before 10pm. That means they need supervision around the clock. Here is where the million factors come in. Things like, is a grandparent around? Is an uncle, an aunt, whatever. Maids do not count. I repeat, maids do not count. READ MY LIPS. MAIDS DO NOT COUNT.

In extreme circumstances, one could argue that 'oh, but the mother has to work so she can support her husband in providing for their family'. For that, I honestly have no response. So with this aside, let's continue.

Being a stay-home mother does not make one less of a woman. Personally, I believe it makes her greater. Sure, a stay-home mother may not have a job. She has THE job.

So what about the degrees? The careers? The independence? I say, what about them?

I've always said it, and I'll say it again. Degrees don't mean a thing. They are a waste of time. They do not make you smarter, more knowledgable, nor an asset to society. Sure, you may have a degree, but that does not give you the direct right to a job. This is applicable to single males, as much as it is for married-women-with-children.

As far as the career is concerned, a mother has a job more demanding than if she were to become a "Mrs. President". So pursuing a career would only complicate things for both herself and for her children. It's not like time is magically going to elongate or something.

Independence? What independence? She is married, first. Mother to a child, second. Independence? Nigga, please.

Now ofcourse, couples have their circumstances and have their agreements. So this in NO WAY applies to you, your family, anyone you know, or anyone I know. This has nothing to do with any human being on Earth.

What I'm trying to say is, mothers not only have a lot of things to do. But they're needed far far FAR FAR ................................. far more.

There are women who have had jobs, and raised their children wonderfully. Good for them. But that's not the point. The point is, a mother should feel that her place is with her children. And if you think a stay-home mom does nothing but 'stay at home', then you need to grow up. Fast.



McDreamy Land is a nice place to be when filled with other dreamers. Here is a sample of McDreamy Land citizens.

The 'bad guys' of McDreamy Land are often called the Cynics. You can meet them here, too.

I argue they should be called Realists.

Cynicism has a lot to do with breaking spirits, killing hopes and rude awakenings. Sometimes, it's just annoying.

Realism, on the other hand, concerns itself with the things a dreamer knows to be true; but would rather pretend oblivious towards. Sometimes, dreamers need a slap on the face, a.k.a words from The Realists.

As an example, consider the following:

- When, and if, a Realist says that there is no one, single, perfect match for each and every one of us. He's not being cynical.

- When, and if, a Cynic says that there is no way in hell that an individual would meet a perfect partner. He's being unrealistic.

Now, what does my bringing-up of this topic make me, a Cynic or a Realist?



3ali was merrily walking to the parking lot. He had a lot to be happy about where he's coming from, and a lot of reason to have that ridiculous smirk on his face where he was headed to. He just got back his paper, scoring an 18.5/20. This was the subject which was being taught by a doctor he had his differences with. The most notorious, if you will, doctor in the department. You could say 3ali was now just happy he showed the Dr that not-doing-homework-doesn't-mean-not-knowing-what's-going-on.

In the parking lot now, he met his new car of less than a month with a heart-felt "hala walla". He was also meeting his dad at the gym as was agreed the night before. So all in all, things were looking up.

Approaching the roundabout, he was in the (correct) left lane planning to go 3/4 the way to the street leading to shari3 il7ob to lengthen the route; wasting some time and enjoying the new ride.

Not so fast.

He grabbed the wheel in place as the car swerved, turning to the right-handside mirror since he felt the impact coming from the back, right side of the car.

Welcome to a typical post-school accident.

The whole situation not sinking yet, he pulled over and got out of his car. He noticed the girl sitting in her car quite shocked. He walked over to her as she was rolling down the window. It was obvious that she was nervous.

3ali: 7asal khair kha6ach elso, feech shay?
bnaya: asfa.. tara..
3ali: la 3ady 7asal khair, feech shay enty al7en?
bnaya: la bas tara ma kan gasdi
3ali: ee adri, basee6a.. sayartech ma feha shay tabeen tamsheen tewakelay
bnaya: la baro7 el makhfar
3ali: agolech sayartech ma feha shay, ana ely sayarty et3awarat o ma a7taj ithen taslee7 adaber 3omri.
bnaya: okay bas ham abi aro7 el makhfar
3ali: .............
bnaya: ka el makhfar warana
3ali: adela..
bnaya: .....
3ali: naday okhoch, oboch atfaham ma3ah.. dashetich el makhfar ma laha lazmah, ekhti
bnaya: .....
3ali: 7elween?
bnaya: inshala

He got back into his car, taking it to the parking lot of masafi6 masra7 Kaifan. Got out and re-examined the hit. A bit depressed, he leaned on the fender waiting for the brother/father/husband/boyfriend to show up, all the while thinking whether or not he'll make it to the gym on time to work out with his dad. The girl parked her car nearby in the same parking lot.

Ten minutes go by and a small jeep joins in. A guy clad in dishdasha gets out and heads to the girl. It'll be two minutes before he makes his way towards 3ali.

Him: shsayer?
3ali: shely shsayer, 7adeth ba3ad sheno
him: shloon?
3ali: mo ehni el7achi, ent al7een imsh el makhfar khal ahalek yamshoon .. o 3ala asaas ena ent ely kent tesoog

Give and take for 10 more minutes and they end up in the mo7agig office of Kaifan's police station. To 3ali's surprise, the girl was there too. They waited and waited. Till finally:

mo7agig: kha6akom el so, shsayer?

Before anyone could say anything, the girl jumped, "ohwa 6ala3 3alay mesri3 o ana da3amta mn wara lena ma medaani asawi shay." 3ali turned to the girl with a look of disgust on his face.

The investigator intervened, asking the girl for details on exactly what happened. 3ali sat back and listened to the lies. Then he turned to 3ali saying, "O int? What's your version?". 3ali could see where this was going. He was a guy in a sports car. She was a girl in a saloon. He looked young. She looked young. They were obviously driving down the same path. And he was keeping quiet, she was not.

3ali: "Salamtek, sajelha 3alay khal enkhalis."
mo7agig: "mo le3eb el mas'ala.. nabi ne3arf shely saar"
3ali: "tabeeny achatheb-ha ya3ni wela ablish bent elnaas b loyat mekhaafir wela sheno belthab6"
mo7agig: "afham mn kalamek ena hal 7achi ma saar?"

3ali thought to himself Walaih.. hatha besawi feeha fahaameya o 7aawir zaawir.

3ali: "la saar, ana ghal6aan ya yoba bas khalsona bamshy"
mo7agig: "sabir sabir, enta ga3ed tegol enek ent ghal6aan?"
3ali: "ee.."
mo7agig: "asajelha 3alaik tara.."
3ali: "sajil.."
mo7agig picks up the driving licenses and gives 3ali a look, "Ee 3adel, 3ashan chethy."
3ali kept quiet looking at his watch.
mo7agig: "walla entaw yal shabaab ma menkom fayda .. ma te7isoon ma tegolon mas'oleya.."
3ali: "enzain.."
mo7agig: "wela 7ad yesadeg e3yal nas yesawon chethy? ana ma wedy at7acha wel akh mawjod", he said while pointing at the what-appeared-to-be-brother.
3ali: "ma3ak 7ag 3ami.."

The investigator went on rambling about how guys 3ali's age should really know their limits, and how they should consider girls their peers as sisters and stand up for them. As opposed to "hal kharabee6 ely shaaghla wagtkom", as he eloquently put it.

3ali was thinking to himself, 'Great, khayran taf3al sharan talga.. 3ala akher 3omri yayne ebnal kalb hatha berabeeni.' He could now feel the stare of the brother on him, as if knowing what was going through his head. He turned to face him and looked away thinking to himself 'il7amdelah wel shekir'.

When they were done, il mo7agig gave them the dreaded papers and they walked out of the station. The brother pulled on 3ali's dishdasha saying, "La7tha la7tha wain raye7." Looking down at the guy's hand grabbing him, he thought to himself 'Men seja hatha?'.

He shoved his hands on the brother's chest and pushed him hard enough to make him slam in the station's entrance door. "Nazil eedik la al7een ahefik kaf 3ala wayhek a3meek .. 7ageega nas fathya".

The guy just stood there, apparently stunned at where all that came from. Not that you could blame him. 3ali took it like a bitch back in the investigator's office. To 3ali, he thought he was doing the right thing. '
Mo 7elwa', he told himself, 'ina el bnaya tenyar laih el makhfar o etseer salfa o ta3aal fachich'.

It didn't bother him that the girl was lying and blaming. What did get on his nerve was the way the investigator made sense of it all. 'The nerve on that guy, lecturing me on how to act as if he knows what he's talking about'. As for the brother, well let's just say it was in his best interest not to fuck with a guy who had his new car screwed up.

The girl? 3ali would still tell you, what do you expect from a typical Kuwaiti chick?
The investigator?
What do you expect from a bored man when it comes to thinking all guys are 'the same' just because of the cars they drive or their physical appearance?
The brother? What do you expect from a wimp who feels he has to prove to everyone that he's the shit, when infact he's a pussy?


Demographic Proposal

Hypothesis: In Kuwait, for any sort of agreement and/or succseful communication between any given two individuals to occur, the standard deviation of age in any given case must be <2.

Otherwise, breakdown in communication is guaranteed to ensue.

Note, however, SD of the above hypothesis concerns itself exclusively in an instance of x initiating communication of any given nature with y; IFF:

y = x +/- 2

I.e., if x were to have a value of 20 (yrs), and has an interest in productive communication with y; then value of y must equal either 18 or 22.

Discuss. Taking a firm position of either challenging or supporting the hypothesis.

Note: Extra points are earned for making an argument of whether or not the equation is gender-specific.

Source: Temetwir, immatwir. 2005. Issues in Demography, A Case Study of the Kuwaiti Society. University of Life Press.



Drinking coffee. Smoking cigarettes. Eating chocolate. Getting online. Snorting coke. When it comes to addictions, some people just have it way too easy.

Two types of addictions; first is when you know you are an addict. Wake up bright and early knowing and admitting you are, and you go to sleep at night considering cutting back in the near future. Somehow, it's never tomorrow. It's mostly the case that you swear "I'll start Saturday". Sounds familiar? Well guess what, this type of addiction is gay.

The above makes your body itch. Makes you desire and long for something. Infact, it's just so easy it's damn pathetic.

Ah, the second type is where agony resides. Never knowing you were an addict. One fine morning, you wake up and you're struck with the facts. Deal with it. All you can think about is getting one hit. Oh man, the lengths one would go to get a hit. One sweet fix. No, fuck that: THE sweet fix. The kind that's going to make all things right. The thing that keeps you going.

In comparisson, the first type isn't even worth being called an addiction. It's just a walk in the park. You know where you can get it. You know how you can get it. And you definitely have access. Otherwise, what kind of a sissy are you on a gay addiction, right?

The thing with the second type is that it's, in most cases, all around you. It's there, but you can't get it. You physically can see and touch it. It's just there, no poetic bullshit. It is just .. is.

The blurry vision of what seems to be everything racing towards you. That sweet smell of burning rubber on take-off. That ever so subtle beat your heart skips with every gear change. The faint hint of deadly gases. The threatening snarl of an American 5.7 litre V8. Or the symphonic note of the finest European engineering at its best. The urge to demand more of an urge. The type of addiction where you actually control the dosage. It's not about gay access. It's all about brutal excess. Actually soothing your wants by flooding your system. Your brain can't take it anymore, it transfers it evenly throughout your being. It's never the other way round like with the first. Heartbeat constantly rising. Blood pressure so high you could feel the pump of circulation. In. Every. Damn. Vein. And. Every. Fucking. Artery.

Now that's what I'm talking about. The sweet, everlasting fix. That sweeter release you long for while it's being emitted. The same release you wish would never end; yet never experience since you wouldn't want to put up with the abuse.

When you feel your heart about to explode. That's when you know you exist. No, fuck that. That's when you feel you're reborn. Yeah, that sounds more like it. Yet still, doesn't do it justice.



1. Introduction

My hot Greek Dr is a charming young lady. Not a day over 35, if that, she looks damn fine. As is the case with shallow silly little boys like myself, we tend to like hot, Greek, charming, fine 35-looking-20-year-old-'succesful' women a tad more than, well, the rest (?) I guess. My babe of a Dr assumed I was a "native speaker of Italian" the day we met. When I said "no", she asked "Spanish?". The nice little boy inside of me wanted to scream "native speaker of Arabic you fucking bitch". But ofcourse, as with every hot babe, manners are kept intact.

Courtesy of 4 years attending at KU (WoooHooo - sheghel UCLA), I had no problem at decoding her sound patterns of her accented-English (which, by the way, is similar to Arnold's accent - true story), nor did I have trouble in keeping up with the somewhat boring lectures I attended with the undergraduates.

2. The Assignment

During seminars, I do my best (I am the best - true story) at looking interested and actually know what the fruit is going on. My claim is backed up by the fact that my occasional one sentence contribution sounds (and is) smarter than all what has been discussed in my period of silence (which is quite some while - true story). I know so because I sense excitement in Oh My Dearest Dr's tone of voice when she continues to discuss the articles she has told us to read a week prior. Not because I have any idea whatsoever about what I just said.

Rewind to Tuesday before last, we: myself, Dutch chick, British chick, Chinese chick (if you must know, mo demaayir laken salaa7eyat needo ya3ni - el dektora a7la to put in terms you would understand) were in seminar bright and early; I was excited because it was the day of the announcement of the assignments. Not that I'm excited because of the assignments, rather for the logical reason: the earlier I know about it, the earlier I can be done with it.

It so happens that the deadline for submitting such assignment is the better late half of January.

Ma7footh il salaama 7athrety is done already.

I spent yesterday (Tuesday - a week from being given the topics) typing away; quoting sources here and there (I read some of them this time, honest - true story); making it sound as if I care what I'm writing about and all that nonesense. Not to brag or anything, but it actually does sound like a 'proper' paper. I mean, shit, I know wassup so wassup?

3. Pulp Fiction

To pull-off a Tarantino here, rewind to seminar again. This is how it went down:

(Me tries his best at speaking in a British accent, btw)

Dr: blahblahblahblah..
Me: So yah am thinkin' a'd be finished within a mownth, yaah?
Dr: Well, that is quite ambitious, wouldn't you say?
Me: Ya umm, akchely I would no'.
Dr: Well, I think you should reconsider. I mean when will you be able to gather sources and read?
Me: *telling myself: well iz no' layk amma akchely read the whole bloody bibliography, now iz i' ?* That sho'en be a hassle.
Dr: Do you plan to go back to ...... err .. err .. (bitch, probably thinking of a stupid Italian or Spanish village - 3alabona metmasken 3endaha te7asebni weld fager) .. err ..
Me: Yaah, Kowayt.
Dr: blahblahblah..

4. Back on Track

So anyway, I email her last night. Tell her that "I'll send you a copy of the ESSAY by tomorrow."
She says I should send her a plan/structure. Since I don't really know what the difference between a plan and a structure is (true story), I go ahead and send her the headings of the titles of my ALREADY WRITTEN essay.
She says it's not detailed enough and would like to know sources and what not.

I ignore.

I go to her office 4hrs later, a lot of blahblahblah takes place and she says I should send her a detailed plan/structure.

5. Conclusion

5.1 Letter to the Dr

I still don't know what a plan/structure is. Nor do I want to. What I will send is a summary of what I have already written. Yes, I am that confident. No, I don't care that it may have been done in haste. What the fruit? How would you know the difference between if I wrote it now, and writing it the day before the deadline? Bitch, "I hate you". I always suspected I liked you because you're hot, and now I know. Bitch. You may as well needed 2 bloody months to write 3,500 words when you were my age. And perhaps you "know people who struggle as to what to mention in this limitation". I'm not you, and I'm not people you know, bitch. I did it in one day. That's what I do. Now STFU and give me a 50% so I can pass your gay module and get on with my life.

5.2 FYI

I would even go as far as to challenge all your mofo students as to which is better: an essay done in one day with motivation; as opposed to one written over the period of 2 months with nothing but the feeling of it being a burden.
Oh and I don't think "I'm gonna make it" to seminar the next couple of weeks.

5.3 Die Slow, slash Die in a Fire !!!!11one

See title.

Chairz :)


The Game

The following is a demonstration of true events that took and take and will take place over and over, unless both boys and girls get a dose of reality. Reader discretion advised. Most dialogue is translated and therefore might seem unnatural.

"Incoming", Faisal declared, tilting his head a bit to get the girl who just stepped in the restaurant in his view. M7amad looked over his shoulder, took a glance and shrugged as he turned back to his salad "Al3an abo thogek," he said. Faisal reached for his mobile phone, turned on the bluetooth and started laughing at the nicknames. 3ali was on the phone, discussing a final price for a car. As soon as he got off the phone, Faisal shoved his mobile in 3ali's face and was telling him to take a wild guess which nick belonged to the girl who just walked in.

"Ay bent? Shtabi?" 3ali asked. M7amad looked up, pointed his fork towards Faisal and said "Ya3ni ma tadry ena 3laiwi gaaleb 3alaina shareef Roma? Ma tedor 3enda hal sowalef." 3ali looked over Faisal's shoulder searching for the waiter, "You believe that shit? Motherfucker hasn't refilled me for 10 minutes now.. Fsail shga3ed etkhiz ent?"

Faisal was stretching his neck following the girl as she was looking around, as if searching for a particular table. M7amad mirrored Faisal's eyes and looked in that direction, noticing that the girl was alone, "Daasha bro7ha, wa7da mn thalaath: imwa3da, al7en b teg3ad weya shelat-ha, aw yaaya itethaba6" he concluded. Faisal was wishing that she would come sit across the floor on a table already occupied by a number of 'honey bunnies'. As all useless wishes, it came true.

3ali looked at Faisal, then at M7amad. He started "You know, the funny thing is that you're sitting here fucking in your head a girl that you don't even know who or what she is, how old she is what she does for a living and how many guys other than you are fucking her in their heads as we speak; all the while when she takes her seat and takes a look around checking "il wath3", she's gonna notice a guy who's staring at her, but instead of interpretting the look as degrading, she makes the choice to believe that you're actually interested. She'll feel flattered, she'll smile because she thinks she made the right choice in wearing that skirt along with those shoes. In her head, she's thinking of you as her knight in shining armor who's gonna make all her wishes come true. All because of that disgusting look on your face which she takes as a compliment."

"Aha?" Faisal blurted.

"Meanwhile, one by one, the other guys are going to notice that she's interested in you since she's looking back and they'll watch out for another girl to eye-fuck. And so it goes on and on. By now she's probably told her friends to check you out, ask if anyone of them knows who you are, what your car is, where you work and/or whether you're a regular at this place. Not to mention, she's now asking her friends if she knows myself or 7amood. Answers to those questions do not necessarily affect the conclusion that she will be moaning your name tonight after you sweet-talk her 5 minutes into your first session of phone sex."

"True, true." M7amad nodded.

"Gradually, you're gonna make the impression that you care for her and that you knew she was the one the moment she stepped into this restaurant. Ofcourse, you're gonna either precede or proceed by 'sadgeeni lama agolich' and 'ana ghair 3an il shabaab, ana neyety saafya'. Worst of all, she's gonna fall for it. Why? Because she doesn't have any fucking clue that we're having this conversation, because she doesn't know that while I'm talking to you right now; you can't wait for all the things I'm telling you are about to happen to actually do happen. She's gonna go on, lecturing about how love does exist, and how she was lucky enough to find love. You're gonna convince her to do all the things which deep down inside you know are wrong. And you're gonna feel like you're a man for making her do those things."

"Yeah Fsail, you're gonna believe you've got a 12-inch dick," M7amad nodded, signaling for the waiter.

"Look at her, you can actually see her thinking about how you're interested in her. She actually believes that you're looking at her and seeing the wife you wished for, a mother for your kids. Someone she would count on for the rest of her life, and someone who she would want to realise all her dreams with. You can almost see her thinking about you making sweet love to her with the candles she has prepared all around the room."

"Just like in Desperado man, just like Desperado" M7amad agreed, after taking a sip of his refilled coke. "Tell him about her friends, 3laiwi."

"Man, don't get me started. Her friends would secretly know that she's being played, but because they want to believe in love so hard they're gonna push her to stay with you. After you make her suck your dick in your car and then make up a story about how you regret her doing that because you really respect her and you would never want her to be like one of 'those girls'- but you couldn't fight it because she was just so beautiful. Her friends will tell her it's okay. You two are gonna get married anyway, it'll all be over soon. And it's okay anyway, you two were in love.. so what if you two expressed that love in that manner?"

"Now tell him about his friends, 3laiwi. Tell him about us." M7amad said, reaching for a napkin and wiping his hands.

"We'll be in this place some other time, right on this table, and you're gonna ask us 'hey remember that girl we saw a while ago over here?'. Obviously, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that since between the three of us, we would've shared up to a hundred girls in the past 6 months - telling them all the same stories with slight modifications here and there. And they're all gonna fall for it. So anyway, we all remember her and we say 'yeah, what's up?'. Then you're gonna tell us all about how she isn't as innocent as she looks, and that she's one raunchy bitch when itched the right way. Basically, we're all going to sit here and laugh have a good time while some poor girl's reputation and emotions gets literally fucked. And it's all because you wanted to prove to everybody that you're a player."

Faisal was nodding in agreement, knowing the drill; as he remembered all the times before that such things have happened over and over again between him and his friends. M7amad looked at both of them and said "You're kidding me right, you're leaving out the best part!"

The waiter placed the bill on the table, and 3ali reached out for his wallet "3alay hal mara. So anyway what is it 7amood, what did I miss out?" Faisal leaned in, showing the two of them the girl's number now since they had already exchanged numbers and promised to call once they're out of here. "You didn't tell him about our friends, the guys who aren't here," M7amad announced. 3ali paid the bill, and they were all getting up from their chairs now. Settling their iqtar and nasfaat, they started walking towards the door.

As they approached the table which the party of girls were sitting on, all three of them recognized that smile on the girl's face. The smile of a girl who just met the guy who's gonna fuck up her life; but to her is her 'new love'.

"Oh," 3ali said, "the guys would basically know who she is, where she lives and everything about her. After Fsail is done with her, he's gonna give out her number to the guys 'in dire need', and since she has nothing to lose now; she's gonna get around telling herself that love sure is out there. So what if Faisal was an asshole, I'm sure this way is the best in getting to know guys. She's gonna tell herself that she 'just knows it'"

They were in the parking lot now, and said they'd meet in the shalaih in an hour. Faisal said he would be a bit late, eyeing a girl walking towards her Range Rover. "Might as well double my chances in all you said back there, man" he winked.

"Woa Jee Dah Nee Khankoa Ay"

A few years ago (could be a couple), Sh. Sabah had an official visit to China. A few weeks before that, I read an article about a high percentage of steel production (along with iron ore or something) worldwide going to China. Now, business is all about money, right? To do business you need places to do business, and places to represent business. In other words, if you're in the business of doing business, you need lots and lots of steel. China has lots and lots of steel. Do the maths. Sh. Sabah sure did.

If you know your history, then you probably know that Kuwait 'gets around'. I am not going to hurt anybody's feelings and say that Kuwait is a bitch; although I will say that it's as close as it gets to being one. Not that there's anything wrong with that or anything. Yeah, right.

I, for one, am very 'happy' with the news that KIA is trying to invest (big) in a Chinese industrial bank (or is it 'the'?). As a sign of 'political friendship' 60 years ago, you would 'exchange' embassies, make official visits, take a couple of pictures for the daily newspapers and all that. Now, it's all about: so how much money are we talking about as a sign of our friendship, babe?

As unrealistic as I may be in hoping that news like this, over time, would mean a shift of interest to the East; I do not see it far from happening given our political history. It's all for the best if you ask me.

If only there were officials who knew their cars, this would have started back in the 90s. True story.

PS: Title means "I think you're cute" in Chinese (Mandarian, I hope)


Letter I

Dear scholars,

While I do respect what you have done for the past half century in providing me with loads of material to summarize and paraphrase in my essays; I just can't help but feel that all you uptight motherfuckers need to just chill for a second. Seriously now, who do you think gives two fucks about how or why or when so and so happens.

The things that occupy your time does not and will not help humanity, nor will it aid you in understanding it better. So just go ahead and take a deep breath, go on vacation or something but please oh please shut the fuck up. At first, I thought all y'all bitches stopped fighting and arguing in print as if what you were discussing changes anything back in the good ol' `80s. Apparently, you didn't. If anything, that shows you how much I care; if it weren't for these essays then I probably still wouldn't know shit.

I admit, upon finding out how much you guys are granted in funding, I did take it personally. I mean all you do is use tape-recorders over and over again; jot down what you have recorded in transcription; and try your best at sounding smart by decoding and systemising what you have. Here's a clue: if for fifty years straight you're still undecided: then there's nothing there to systemise nor decode you sorry knit-wits. Just get another job, flip burgers or something for all I care; honestly you might be more useful doing that.

It really does insult my intelligence when you compare a machine that can organize statistical structures with a child's brain, it really does. But then again I understand your confusion. I mean, shit, none of you motherfuckers seem to care what the other sanavabitch has to say do you? You just keep on writing, and writing and writing, referring back and forth to each others papers. Well, I got news for you, you can't challenge a generalisation by merely focusing on a specification. That defies the purpose of argumentation. Yeah that's right, I am challenging all your petty theories.

So you're probably wondering 'then why in the blue fuck would you be reading our papers, writing essays, and studying our field?' I could say it's none of your business, but just to show you my gratitude for actually helping me out with my (stupid) assignments, I'm gonna let you in on a little secret.

You see, the thing is I'm a cocky motherfucker. I really shouldn't be studying your field, I should be in a whole different school - let alone a department. But I figured 'hey, if my employers - who happen to be my sponsors - are stupid, might as well take the opportunity'. I know, I know this doesn't answer your question, so here goes: the field I should be studying will take a lot of my time.

I mean the introductory course I audited in for one session just proves my point. That crazy bitch wanted us to read two articles each week, prepare for discussion, and I don't know what the fuck else she wanted. Needless to say, I dropped out the next morning.

You probably see where I'm going with this now, and that is: your constant arguments in print messes my thoughts, man. I mean come on, hook a brotha up. While you motherfuckers get paid for writing dead-end discussions, I have to go back and delete most of what I wrote and re-decide all over again on how to structure my essay.

I know I should read everything first and then make up my mind, but dude.. that takes time. It's not like I have anything else to do or anything, it's really just that I don't feel like it.

Yes, sir/madam, I am aware of my responsibilities. I just choose to ignore them.

Ever since I got into high-school this was my way of life. I never did study, yet I never got under a B. Okay, maybe once when I failed Biology - but that shit was so boring (my excuse for 'hard') I actually answered essay-questions on the IGCSE finals with "I wish I knew, but something came up last night and I couldn't finish studying". That was a half-lie, and also passed as a silly joke to charm the examiner - the asshole who was marking probably didn't find it funny. I'm sure that was why I failed, I just know it. But anyway I did get into college.

But ofcourse, the same thing happened when I was in college. I never really cared how economies worked in theory, that's because I was smart enough to know that that textbook crap wouldn't last two seconds out in the real world of business. Two seconds. And that's how I ended up in your beloved field: I transferred to your department.

If you're hoping for a happy ending, then I'm sorry, this isn't a fairytale just like in your studies where you just won't accept that there's more to life than silly experiments and flawless results. For three years, I never studied except when I was asked to teach a bunch of friends in the library the night before the finals. Yeah, that's right, me, teaching. And so it happens, I graduated top of my class too so that probably counts for and tells you something about both myself and your field. Biyaaatch.

Finally, allow me to quote somebody who knew exactly what I'm talking about. 'The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education'.

Yours truly,
immatwir, PhD - University of Life


من قال الريال شايل عيبه؟

If it were merely a saying of no real significance but to point out the obvious, or to comment on an event; then perhaps I wouldn't mind, let alone take notice. But that is not its primary function. Rather it is deployed in situations to reason and, slash or forgive actions seemingly unable to escape characterisation outside the border of either, or both being childish/wrong.

Yes, I am suggesting that males consider their actions, speech and gestures without the security of knowing there exists a safety net. This in no way implies that females be given 'more space' or anything of the sort. An understanding of such nature would be just as bad and naive as the belief in the validity of 'il rayal shayil 3aibah'.

Since I strongly believe in religion, I fail to see where it is explained fine that a man do wrong and then be exempt just because of his biological state. On the contrary, punishment is either of the same nature or even exceeds that of a female. This would suggest that 'il rayal shayil 3aibah' is not derived from religion, thus weakening its standing to a high degree.

I also happen to believe in social constraints. To make a long story short, I could think of at least eight different ways how or why males should consider what they say and do to an even higher extent than females when it comes to social factors.

In essence, 'il rayal shayel 3aibah' is nothing but a sad attempt at reasoning wrong-doings based on the misconception of manhood; when infact manhood compels men to take responsibility regardless of exemption.



Something to ease the tension from the past couple of posts.
  1. I'll make him an offer he can't refuse.
  2. There's only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pu .. ssy.
  3. The best teacher anyone can get is the University of Life.
  4. Anybody who tells you that money is the root of all evil, doesn't fucking have any.
  5. It's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything.
  6. There is no spoon.
  7. You're my older brother, and I love you. But don't ever take sides with anyone against the family again. Ever.
  8. Don't let yourself get attached to anything you're not willing to walk out on in thirty seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner.
  9. This whole court is out of order.
  10. I don't know about that, father. Your guy may be bigger than my guy up there, but my guy is bigger than your guy down here.
  11. I lied to you. I did fuck Alice.
  12. A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.
  13. I don't want to talk about it because we've lost a lot of good men out there.
  14. I haven't had a fuck like that since grade school.
  15. It's not about following your heart and it's not about keeping your promises. It's about security.
  16. Please, man. Married life is easy. You only got one woman to satisfy.
  17. You're damned right it's limited. No cup holder, no back seat. Just a shiny dick with two chairs in it.
  18. You do not talk about Fight Club.
  19. It's all about bucks kid. The rest is conversation.
  20. Is my job here to make you a happy, well-adjusted gangster?
  21. I always tell the truth. Even when I lie.
  22. What's so great about the truth? Try lying for a change, it's the currency of the world.
  23. Act as if.
  24. I am Jack's wasted life.
  25. Right motherfucker, now where's my money?
  26. A lot of holes in the desert; and a lot of problems buried in those holes.
  27. From now on, I want you to put an equal amount of blueberries into each muffin. An equal amount of blueberries in each muffin.
  28. How am I funny? Like a clown? What, do I amuse you? What the fuck is so funny about me. Tell me, you tell me.
  29. You ever seen one of these? Have you ever used one? Don't ever.. because, they're very VERY bad. But right now, I need you to aim it at the bad guy who's following us, and shoot him right in the head.
  30. I get paid to be suspicious when there's nothing to be suspicious about.
  31. Mad respect for not giving respect. I feel you.
  32. The saddest thing in life is wasted talent.
  33. A wiseguy is always right. Even when he's wrong, he's right.
  34. You wanna go to jail or you wanna go home?
  35. They build jails because of me.
  36. Yeah? Suck my dick bitch, I know people.
  37. My mama always says life's like a box of chocolates, you never know what you gonn get.
  38. So I went the white boy way of slinging crack-rock.. I became a stock broker.
  39. 1 in every 3 black males is at some point in some phase of the correctional system. Is that a coincidence or do those people have a racial commitment to crime?
  40. I'm gonna teach you a real lesson now mafakah, put yo fuckin' mouth on the curb. NOW.
  41. It was great to be Catholic and go to confession. You could start over every week.
  42. You just hate me 'cause am black.
  43. Show me the money!
  44. Freedom is never having to say you're sorry.
  45. Vanity, definitely my favourite sin.
  46. That's thirty minutes away. I'll be there in ten.
  47. You need people like me so you can point your fingers at and say that's the bad guy. You're never gonna see a bad guy like me.
  48. A simple thank you would've been nice.
  49. Explain this to me like I'm a six year old.
  50. Me? Lawyer fucked me, everybody in here is innocent. Didn't you know that?
  51. First you hate them then you get used to them. Enough time passes and you depend on them, that's institutionalized.
  52. I don't want them bribed. I want this to be legal. I want them bought.
  53. Sun-tzu: If your enemy is superior, evade him. If angry, irritate him. If equally matched, fight, and if not split and reevaluate.
  54. A player. Or nothing.
  55. When I say "This is a friend of mine", that means you're a connected guy. If I said instead, "This is a friend of ours", that would mean you a made guy. Capiche?
  56. Our rules supercede those of the outside world.
  57. Nothing personal. It's just business.
  58. How much money did you give that guy? A wiseguy never pays for his drinks.
  59. On a long enough timeline, everybody's survival rate drops to zero.
  60. Love? Overrated. Biochemically no different than eating large quantities of chocolate.



It is said that motivation plays a huge role in success. True that. But when you really think about it, what really is motivation; in other words, what motivates motivation? Now, everyone leads a life in which 'tomorrow' is (should be) the most important. That's a given. However a distinction can be made between those who actually know and are aware of that fact, from the unfortunate who do not.

Restricting the discussion to those who do know, rises a rather intriguing question. What is it that drives them to think about and consider the shaping of their future? Being the narrow-minded fellow that I am, I could only come up with two options.

First being that what a person has had, what a person was born into, is what determines the things he or she strives for. The second: that which a person did not have and was not born into, is that which drives his or her demands.

Just to make things a tad more clearer - if possible - we ask, is it the case that a person strives for keeping a constant 'level of living' because that is what he or she is accustomed to? Or is it: that which a person was deprived from is that which a person hopes to reach?

Eventually, both would lead to accomplishment. And both, ofcourse, could vary from one individual to another - I would think. But where a person sees himself fitting between the two extremes could very well go to say a lot about character.

Just incase you don't read the comments, you NEED to watch this. Courtesy of dearest mbh.


"والله والنعم"

Family names are the frame in which people shine. One's entity and character are not restricted by the family name, on the contrary, I believe it adds to them. Ofcourse, one's family name should act both as a barrier, as well as a guide; preventing one from doing something while motivating to do another.

Individuality is the balance between one's entity and one's family name. It is the comprehension that there is a burden, not only social but more importantly personal, to be worthy of having that particular name. Not only the understanding ofcourse, but also the actual act of striving for it.

This pride in one's family should not be based on power nor money. It is not in relation to social status. Rather, it has a lot to do with reputation. Differentiating between them (respect for social status and social reputation) is simply done through a measurement of how genuine that respect is. If it is gained, then genuineness of respect decreases. If it is earned, genuineness increases.

How a family earns -as opposed to gaining- respect is a question of how many of its members are willing to prove that they are worthy of bearing their own title.

Hence, we go in a circle.

Point being, if someone is just 'proud' of his family and has nothing to show for it personally; then he might as well go fuck himself. On the other hand, 'pride' in one's self - probably based on accomplishment - with no recognition nor acknowledgement to one's family is just as pathetic.



We all live in physically confined environments. Within these borders, each group (and subgroup) has a norm. This norm does not care about how you feel towards it. This norm surely does not give a fuck about what you think of others who are happy abiding to it. This norm is sick and tired of hearing you bitching and whining about 'other norms' you know of, and how you would love to see some changes in your lifetime 'for the better sake of its people'. Well guess what, you might as well just drop and die right now and save yourself the drama. Or, perhaps you could read on.

Let me reversely exemplify (made-up phrase). While I personally am outside the borders (norm) which I definitely long for and would rather be in; I do not impose anything from my 'presets' on the norm (border) in which I currently am in. I, therefore, exist in a matrix which I am not orginated from.

Why I do not try to impose change is due to a number of reasons. One is ultimate belief that neither myself alone, nor a group of those who share my background, could change the norm we exist in. Therefore, the first paragraph above in this case is applicable to me.

Second, it is because I do not need to change anything about the matrix I exist in now to feel better about myself. In other words, I do not need to reset any variables here or there in order to cope with my existence.

That is due to the fact that one's existence in any matrix is not based solely on the physical aspect. And since you are already lost, here goes nothing: existence in any matrix is only in one's head.

Having said that, any one individual who constantly struggles to cope with his existence (even within the original matrix which he/she originated from and operates according to a certain norm) will always try to change variables here or there. That individual subconsciously projects his/her weakness with the label of change. Namely, in this day and time, calling for things like westernization/'democracy'/modernity.

Reality is not a fixed notion. It does, whether we like it or not, differ from one individual to the next. All is aces up until an individual is physically placed within borders of a domain in which the prevailing notion of reality (or norm) is in complementary distribution with his own interpretation.

Any insistent trial on imposing features of one matrix on another, both:

a) results in disappointment, disapproval and confusion. As well as,

b) to be considered evidence that the imposer is lost and insecure about his own definition of reality - which ironically he insists on; therefore, the individual hangs on the hopes of finding reassurance in the forcing of change projected in certain labels derived from other matrices.

The most valuable asset to have in order to be able to cope and survive within any matrix/norm/border is faith in oneself. Ofcourse, faith in oneself can only be achieved if there is faith in a fixed truth.

Personally, I am aware of my reality. I choose to accept it first, and then enter any modifications which are derived from faith on my understanding, enabling me to physically exist in any matrix but stay in a constant reality within myself.

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