My whole will change again…

In two weeks.

I’m tired. Really fucking tired of it all.

Can’t help but wonder if these are the thoughts suicidal people think for time before they finally blow their own fucking heads off. Then I get paranoid. I’ve been thinking these things for years. How much time do I have before I sincerely do become suicidal?

I’m not suicidal. Why do think about it at all?

Change Ignoring Your Past

I’m pretty young. In my past, I’ve messed up pretty bad and chances are I’ll mess up again, even worse in my future.

Recently, I’ve noticed a bunch of change in a bunch of people, including myself. I know why I’ve changed. I also know, I’ll always be changing, no matter what. I’ve always changed at the blink of an eye. But then, I also know what the specific events were that made me stop in my tracks and look at myself this time around.

My change wasn’t inspired by what people thought of me, or how I thought the world perceived me. I still couldn’t give a rat’s-ass about other people’s opinions, both in blogsphere or in real life. I know who I am to those that matter and that’s all that matters to me. My change was inspired by the effects I was having on me.

But there are a few other people whose change must be inspired by other’s opinions of them; they’ve telling signs in the language they use. Sentences like, “Learn from me” or “I did it, so can you” say to me that they’re aiming to be a role model for some. True, some may be inspired by the stories and others may take your lead and follow your advice, and some may find reason to admire you but there will always be the few who still know you as the despicable human being you once were, and they’ll know this simply because of your past treatment of them. Without you taking a step to heal wounds you caused, this will never change.

When you realize this, you have two choices. You can attempt to ignore it (and you’ll never, ever be able to fully do this, as regret and guilt have a way of eating a person alive), or you can take the necessary steps to correct it and actually work to make your changes a little deeper than a surface show with temporary effects. It’s guaranteed though, that those you hurt in the past will never forget and will never change their opinions of you based on second-hand knowledge of what you’ve done recently, or how well you’re currently behaving towards others. Until you take the step to repair hurts you’ve caused, they’ll always be remembered and you’ll always be despicable in someone else’s eye. I do hope you remember that.

Stateless UAE Nationals, the UAE Government & the United Nations

At a time when the United Arab Emirates is asking for international acceptance, it’s incredible that basic human rights are denied to even the most patriotic citizens. I’m engaged to be married. Only, that marriage may never materialize because my fiancé, like 15,000 others in the UAE, has been made stateless by the UAE government. This is an issue that has been present for decades. And one that multiple promises for solutions have been made, and yet none of those promises have fallen into effect.

According to the United Nations Site http://www.unhcr.org/basics/ a stateless citizen is someone who is without nationality. In the UAE stateless citizens are denied rights such as documentation, medical, education, banking abilities, traveling and even marriage. Without valid identification it is impossible to do literally anything, officially.

A person becomes stateless here for reasons that apply internationally, like parents failing to register their children; or more-or-less locally, like the father’s racial background, regardless of the mother’s nationality. My fiancés mother is a UAE national. His father is Omani. Based on this fact alone, he was ripped of his UAE citizenship.

Legally, there is a 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights that states, “Everyone has the right to a nationality” and should not be arbitrarily deprived of nationality. My fiancé was once recognized as a UAE national. He carried a passport and a valid driving license. Recently, the government of Sharjah decided to withdraw these rights for all children born to non-local fathers. Upon expiry of such documents, he officially became stateless.

The UAE shames countries like Israel for breaking UN resolutions and committing war crimes against Palestine and Lebanon. The UAE puclically states their mission to the United Nations on this government site, http://www.un.int/uae/. The UAE is in such dire need for nationals in the population ratio that they’re considering nationalizing a slate of people from vastly different cultures, so long as they’ve resided in the UAE for an extended period of time. The UAE claims they want to preserve their culture. The UAE boasts equal rights between men and women. The UAE is fighting to correct all human rights violations for international recognition; the child camel jockeys have been rightfully sent home, the well-known laborer disputes are being highlighted and regulations are being put in place to rectify them. The UAE has given Stateless Citizens like my fiancé, the same promise they’ve been repeating for years, “This year this problem will be solved.”

How hard can it be to grant a person his human rights? How hard can it be to give a national mother the same rights as a national father and thus grant her children UAE nationality? How much culture does a non-national father take from their children even when the mother is national, and the family has resided their entire lives in the Emirates? How hard can it be to reinstate the thousands of unmarried men, women and children in my fiancés shoes their nationality? I can only assume it’s as hard as it was to take it away.

My fiancé and his father have attempting to get these rights back for years now. My fiancés father handed over his Omani nationality years ago in accordance with the UAE law which does not allow dual nationality, in order to receive UAE citizenship which he was granted. He is now stateless as well. My fiancés father has been to some of the highest rulers, and has been given written authority from the ruler’s office that he and his children should be granted nationality. These papers have been forwarded to the Municipality where they’ve been left stagnant for so long they’ve most likely been forgotten.

There are many options for stateless people. One of the biggest obstacles is pure patriotism, and blind faith in a government who has already taken everything away. UAE nationals who still have culture have tight ties with the ruling families and either do not wish to or do not know they can apply for citizenship with other countries, like Canada and the US. They still have faith in the repetitive promises. But soon enough that faith will run out and the UAE will lose more of its culture and gain more international disrespect.

Stateless people can contact http://www.unhcr.org/ whose mission is, “In accordance with article II of the 1961 Convention of Reduction of Statelessness, UNHR provides assistance to helping individuals by helping them resolve their legal problems, obtain relevant documents and eventually restart their lives.” You can get information or declare your case from the UNHCR through email at hqpioo@unhcr.org.

As a Canadian citizen, I fully intend to contact UNHCR and see what can be done for my fiancé and I as years of his family attempting to make way through the local authorities have gotten him nowhere. Should we marry symbolically or religiously without proper registration, his children and grandchildren will still be stateless and without the ability to travel or register anything officially. They will be deemed futureless prior to them even being born. Something has to change and these rights must be reimbursed as quickly as they were taken away.

Should you or someone you know be in a similar situation, I highly suggest you do the same thing. One of the major reasons why other human rights violations in the UAE have been corrected or are in the process of being corrected is thanks to mass international media attention. For the sake of my fiancé, my personal future and others like me, I’m asking you to take a step and do anything you can to give attention to this issue.

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they must stop, and look at themselves and ask, “Are they the problem or am I?”

I’ve made a lot of enemies; many of them through blogging and many prior to blogging. I’ve burned a lot of bridges that I regret deeply but am too proud to even attempt to repair.

I learned one thing though, and I learned it at a very young age. Hate, it only manifests itself deep in the holder and rarely affects the one who’s hated by you. Unless of course, you’re a revengeful fuck, but even then it’ll come back around a kick you in the ass eventually.

The above link to Balushi’s blog is perfect example of someone I feel for. I suppose they want to me to feel shitty about myself because they simply despise me and everything about me. But I don’t. I don’t feel as though I’m less of a human being because I’m hated by them. I don’t feel as though I should curl up and cry or commit suicide. What I do feel is sorry for this anonymous guy/girl.

You see… I’m a perfect candidate to fester hate. I have a psycho ex-husband who made my life hell for a year and half and kept my child away from me. I have a former assassin who threatened my life for 3 years and dragged me through the trenches of the UAE courts including the Bedouin RAK ones, where my hand was literally up for grabs. I have the former drug-dealer who pretty much held me captive while I was between the ages of 14 & 17 with the threat of the lives of my family should I leave him. And I have so many more, all in my past. I don’t believe I hate a single one of them at this moment. And you know why? Because they’re no longer making my life hell. Why should I create my own hell by allowing myself to manifest hate over things that are in the past?

No. I will not. I have a friend who betrayed me so much so, more than a year ago that it still hurts to think about. Maybe, I still hate her to some extent. But I’m sure that when the pain subsides so will this evil feeling.

Hate is an ugly thing. More so for the holder than the hated. It will lead to depression, especially if you're missing out on the things you love because of it. If you’re holding it, perhaps it’s time for you to ask yourself whether the real problem is with you or with them.

They fired her.

I called the school this morning to tell them that my son wouldn’t be there for a few days because of this stomach bug. I also apologized for overreacting at which the administration told me I didn’t, and most parents would have come in screaming at the receptionist and everyone else in the school, should this have happened to them.

I’m proud of myself. I’m learning to control my temper.

She told me that yesterday, after I left, my son’s issue turned into an issue of his teacher being late. Which she wasn’t. If you read well what I wrote, she appeared slightly before class started. And that wasn’t even the point I was trying to make. They were denying that my son ever had a chance to be alone with another child. I was rebutting that argument with this reality. Nonetheless, they sacked her.

I feel horrible about it. My son loves her. And I’ve seen her teach him. She’s really very good when it comes to dealing with children. And she’s been hired to teach. Other people have been hired to watch the children while they’re at play or while they’re on breaks.

Does this mean that CEO doesn’t know how to deal with the problem?

I’m not supposed to know about this. But as soon as I get the letter that I’ve requested detailing the repercussions of this complaint, I’ll be sure to go in and try to rectify this. I may not be impressed with how she responded to me, but I’m sure that her fear of getting fired was the very reason she got so upset. And clearly it was a valid fear.

Who would of thought school could be hell for parents just as it is for children?

I tore the shit out of the school today. My son’s kg1 teacher is a bitch in denial, and honestly I thought someone educated to teach kg students in Britain would have better ethics. Maybe she’s not even educated for the position; which wouldn’t be a surprise in this country! The cunt denied that there was any possibility that my son was ever alone with another boy, as ‘they’re always being watched’. And she had a fucking smirk on her face when I explained to her what my son showed and told me!

I myself have witnessed children playing alone, during Ramadan while waiting for the teachers to arrive. I myself have been waiting inside the classroom with my son, when this cunt decided to appear 3 minutes before class is supposed to start. My ex husband claims he’s experienced the same thing with her in the past. And the ‘caretaker’ the woman who’s meant to help the kids in the bathroom etc. admitted that she’s not always there as sometimes she leaves for the bus!

Anyway, with her calling me a liar to my face, things got pretty ugly. She was asked to leave the room by the CEO – only a money-making-private school has a CEO instead of a Principal I’m sure! Anyway, he agreed with me that something was fucked up and that he’d look into it. He sympathized and expressed sincere regret over the incident explaining, the kg section has strict guidelines that obviously aren’t being implemented and he would be sure to ‘punish’ the administration that should be taking care of it. He promised me this incident wouldn’t go ignored and assured me that my son will not be left alone with any other child again. I did not insist on the other child’s parents being there as I was already so angry I’d have probably hurt them physically at the first sense of denial from them.

I have requested they give me an incident report as well as all information about what measures they’re taking to insure this doesn’t happen again. I’ve also asked for it to be put in writing that my son doesn’t get mistreated by any of the administration (including his cunt teacher) because of my reporting this. They have assured me of the same. This way, if anything happens in the future I WILL have something solid to take not only to the ministry of education, but also my lawyers.

I can not blame the child who did this to my son. But I’ve asked them to take very special care when dealing with him and also mention this incident to his parents so that they’re aware he’s got a problem. For all I know… Maybe this kid was molested by another kid at school and taught my son later?!

My son understands now that it was wrong but he and this child aren’t to be blamed for anything. He’s been taught that it’s ok for him to play with his parts when he’s alone, but not ok to do in public or when anyone is around.

He isn’t suffering by any sense of the word at school as he drifted through today like nothing happened, and this little boy and him are still getting along well. If, on the other hand something like this happens again… Or if my son shows the slightest sign of not wanting to be in school because of this… He’s gone. I’ll home-school him for all I care. He won’t be back there.

And he gets tomorrow off anyway. The poor kid has a stomach bug on top of everything.

My four-year-old-son was sexually molested by another four-year-old-boy at school today.

Tomorrow, I’m going to destroy that fucking place and that child’s parents.

No! It’s NOT propaganda! It’s a correction!

((And I must be a terrorist…))

More Potential Goes to Waste?

Or could I, should I actually make something of it?

I went into the head office of my old company today. The doctor & CEO of the company and I had a long assed talk which ended in him pretty much making me an offer no sane person would refuse.

’We’ll be partners. You don’t have to put any capital in it. You will work side-by-side with me. And you will have to work. You are so talented, but you don’t focus your talent. You don’t communicate well with people you dislike. Someone like you needs to work for yourself and not under someone else. When you’re ready to go out on your own, you will hopefully be set for life.’

To which I replied, “Alright, give me the product information I need. Tell me what you want from me exactly and I will think it over.”

’No. I will not give you a thing. You will go home, sleep on it and think about it. If you decide that you’re ready to work for yourself, then I’ll give you all the information. You can do so much and you’ve got all the right contacts here. You just need to decide that you want to do it for yourself first. You need to want to work.'

I sipped on my coffee wondering why this conversation seemed to be going in circles before I said, “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

’Do you understand what I’m saying, here? I know you. I know you’re multi-talented and that’s such a gift from God. But you waste it. You waste it by refusing to deal with people you don’t like; by communicating only with people you care about. If you didn’t like me, you wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly; that hot cappuccino you’re drinking would be out of your hand and in my face.’

I couldn’t help but laugh because he was right on two accounts; 1) the cappuccino was way too hot and; 2) it probably would have been all over him.

He gave me a few new collagen products to try, asked me if I was taking my vitamins because I look pretty worn and sent me on my way, before saying, “I’ll be expecting you’re call. And I mean it. Tomorrow, a week from now, a year from now, when you’re ready and you let me know that you’re ready, this offer will always be valid.”

Now I’m a bit of a skeptic when it comes to something like this. It seems so easy, so perfect. I know him and I know he’s not thinking anything nasty. I know the products, well most of them since they’ve added a few since I resigned. I worked under him for 6 months before I left to take over the Abu Dhabi office – with the owner from hell. I believe in the products and he’s promised me far more than what’s just listed with the main company. He’s promised me a place in his personal company. It seems like it’s all up to me. All I have to do is decide. Do I want this?

What exactly is it, though? Are the details of this proposal clear to you? It kind of feels to me like I need to decide that I want to be his business partner before I learn what the details of my position will actually imply.

On a similar note, I haven’t touched the editing I’m supposed to be working on, for a few days now. It almost feels like I’m letting another opportunity slip away from my hands. Can we count how many I’ve let slip in this lifetime? Do I dare even attempt?

I can’t help but think about murdering her. I hate the cunt. I really… Truly… Hate the fat fucking cunt. It’d almost be worth the punishment.

If I didn’t fear God, she’d be dead.

God, spare me these thoughts.

American’s are Rude!

I found something online and I wanted to order the same. Their site mentioned that they do entertain international orders and shipping amounts vary. They would contact me with the approximate amount. Instead of wasting time (because I hate wasting time when I want something), I decided to call them. Here’s how the conversation went:

USA: Thank you for calling blah, blah, blah… How can I help you?

Me: Good morning! How are you?

USA: (shock, horror, dismay – someone’s being polite?) long pause, Umm I’m good, thanks? Yes, it was a question!

Me: Good to know! I found something on your site and I’m interested in purchasing it, but I’ve got a few questions about payment and shipping. I’d like to know what the shipping costs with be approximately and whether or not I can give you my credit-card details and order by phone?

USA: You’re calling from the Middle East? Where in the Middle East?

Me: The United Arab Emirates.

USA: Where?

Me: The United Arab Emirates, Dubai?

USA: Silence

Me: You know, Dubai. The Burj Al Arab – the world’s most famous hotel?

USA: Where? She’s almost sounding obnoxious.

Me: You must know Dubai, in the United Arab Emirates! It’s always on American news!

USA: I can’t understand YOU!

’What language am I speaking bitch?’ At least that’s what I was thinking.

Me: Uniiitted A-rab Emiiirates, Duuubaaay.

USA: Anyway, you’ll have to pay by money order and in advance. We don’t accept credit cards from the Middle East. And the shipping cost is half the value of your purchase.

Me: But your site says Paypal, Credit Card or COD.

USA: We only accept money orders in advance from the Middle East.

Me: I’m looking at something that costs $100, shipping will cost $50?

USA: Yes. You have to make a money order out to us and send it in advance.

Me: And how do you ship your products?

USA: Airmail.

Me: Your site says FedEx is also an option. I don’t trust the local post office much. Is it possible?

USA: No. To the Middle East we only send by US Airmail.

Me: Your mailing address isn’t on your site.

USA: It’s P.O. box blah, blah, blah…

Me: So, I send a money order out to your company with a printed form stating what I want and that’s it?

USA: Yes.

Me: What’s my guarantee?

USA: You don’t have one.

Me: Thank you very much, bub-bye.

I’m pretty darn certain, I won’t be ordering from this place. I won’t be ordering from any place that pretty obviously discriminates against the Middle East and is down-right-out RUDE to their customers.

I have wasted another day. The most I’ve done is gone out to buy smokes and water. I didn’t touch the book I’m supposed to be editing. I didn’t even read the papers. I spent the entire day doing fuck all. I’ve barely even watched the television that’s been playing the background since I woke up. I did skim a couple of blogs and I did reply to a few emails.

I find it amusing how many bloggers think they’re brilliant for figuring out who ‘potential waste’ is. Fucking Einstein’s! The lot of them! Each and every one of you deserves a fucking cookie, now. For future reference, if you’d asked in private, you’d have probably been given the answer plus a detailed explanation as to why.

I never figured myself for hiding. I never even attempted to put on a fake persona for the sake of veiling the inevitable. I didn’t even fail to disclose the telling details about who I am in my profile.

Brilliant people, I tell you.

No. I’m still me and no matter what name I choose to use in blogger, it seems I’ve got that damn personality that sticks out. Good to know, I guess. I’m original, and you’re not. Bite me.

He said he wasn’t feeling well. He said he was a little depressed; a little nervous. I suggested two things;

1) Go to Deirah and hit on all the pretty women, so long as he doesn’t give them any real contact details or take any of them home. That’ll defiantly make him feel better!

Or…

2) We’ll both go to some trashy part of town where I’ll hide in the back-seat, behind the tinted windows and he’ll hit on all the ugly girls, giving them one of his friend’s phone number and insisting they call. Not only will he laugh tonight because he’s doing something evil … But he’ll laugh when his friend starts bragging about all the women calling, because he already knows they’re disgusting women.

He refused both. I don’t think he was lying when he said he was depressed.

I decided that if my writing was going to get me in trouble, I might as well make royalties from it.

I’ve had a couple of online journals, now. One them goes back as long as five or six years. It’s on an American based site, in a tight-knit online community. That journal has followed me through some of the most chaotic times in my life. Upon learning about my autobiography being confiscated, I logged into that site with the intentions of deleting everything. I couldn’t do it.

There were a couple of emails from a small publishing house based in New Zealand, inviting me to publish my journals. They’d already invited me in the past, at which time I blatantly accused them of being a fraud. Something didn’t match up to me. Upon reading their latest emails and their rationalization of seemingly unprofessional ways I decided to give it a go.

I started taking the entries off-line, copying and pasting them one by one into a word document, and editing for any spelling or typing errors. I’m still in the process of doing this. Reading those old journal entries made me realize a number of things. A lot of it made me feel sick to stomach and a lot of it has forced memories to flash back. Most of it has made me question myself, ’who the fuck did I think I was kidding?’

Either I was lying to myself and the rest of the world, or a hell of a lot has changed and I’ve done a hell of a lot of growing. Or, I’m purely psychotic suffering multiple personalities and I don’t even know it.

Drama follows me. Or I create it subconsciously. I don’t know, but it’s almost always there.

And I thrive off of it.

I just killed a face. But she’s not dead. She was real, but not the real I care to emphasize anymore. I wasn’t sure if that’s what I was going to do; kill her. But drama showed her ugly face and I was left without a choice, really. I’m trying to prevent it this time. My efforts will do me no good, thanks to Google cached, and the fact that all my details are already in the hands of the wrong person, should they decide to pursue it.

I write. And I write a lot. I’ve always kept journals, blogs, and the like. I write fiction and reality, I write poetry and stories. I started writing an autobiography. I never completed it because I realized the consequences of publishing that book would be far too big for me to deal with. The uncompleted version was left in the hands of an aspiring, American author, wishing to write about the relationships between Westerners and Arabs in the United Arab Emirates. The authorities caught up with him. They confiscated all his files before requesting he leave the Emirates and never return. He’s gone now. But my writings, contact details, name and everything else is now with them.

But I can’t stop writing. So here I start again.

This time there are no comments. This time, I don’t want your rash thoughts or opinions. This time, if you have something to say to me, concerning something I’ve written, you can email me. Maybe this time, before your words reach me, you’ll have the chance to think about what you want to say.

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