Drawing on my phone using MyPaint for Meamo OS (Nokia n900). I am quite happy with my second attempt  to draw something. It’s a simple painting, but has character.

One early morning, I am waiting for the hypermarket to open so I can buy a set of alphabet cookies cutters. It’s not that I am very desperate to bake cookies. You see, the easiest way to customize the hardcover of your moleskine notebook, is to buy alphabet cookie cutters and then hammer the letters onto the hardcover.  I call it the “poor mans engraving technique”. I want to put titles on my notebooks so that I can easier distinguish between them. While waiting at a café, I make another attempt to use my phone for creative work (drawing in this case) with a horrible outcome. 

Since I finally gave into getting my own super-smartphone, I have been experimenting with different creative tools and quite impressed with what I have found so far. But this is not the setting where I normally find myself writing. I get inspired in moments like this, where you are relaxed and can gather your thoughts, but for me personally, it does not mount to more a thought or maybe a doodle in my notebook. I write in distraction-free surroundings. I cannot handle people talking around me. I cannot help but to listen to their conversation.

On the other hand, I feel disgusted by the boiling hot weather and the sand in my ears. I am writing on a tiny keyboard on my phone, looking at a small screen in mid-day sunlight. And it does not help that Ms. Chang is giving me the looks. She probably thinks I am chatting with someone and not paying attention to her.

Im wondering if I can ever find the same comfort as if I was writing at home. Sitting in front of my laptop in my air-conditioned flat, while sipping on my cup of coffee and listening to Mark Knopfler. Then I think, I should stop complaining about not being in the zone – I always have excuses not to write. Writing something is better than not writing anything, right?

“You realize that in [this country] the government is doing its job… no one is disappearing… only traitors that wanted to overthrow the government are being captured and questioned… anyone that minds his own business is safe!”

The above quote had made me so sad.  My friend had said this in response to the situation happening in a country that is far far away from Canada.

Oh friend, while I understand your desire for peace and stability, for you and your child, how much freedom would you forsake?  Wouldn’t you rather live in a country where people can call their prime minister an asshole?  This is your country, not mine.  This is not my battle and at the end of the day, I can leave the country and have nothing to do with it.  However, this is your country.  How are you going to help restore peace and stability?  The whole experience here has been so disheartening.  The traitors you speak of are your fellow countrymen.  Your government hates them so much because they are undermining and threatening its authority.  And its authority are not given to it by its people… it was handed down to them by British colonialism.  You can put it however way you want- but people who are speaking against the government, whether they are trying to overthrow the government or trying to speak out for democracy and human rights- are being detained and their fate is uncertain.

In a proper democracy, there is a dialogue between the government and its people.  Unfortunately in this country, there is none and I am utterly disappointed.  I thought this country had more sense and are more liberal than its neighbours.  I guess I thought wrong.

“Stephen Harper is an asshole…” This is my Facebook status.  I can call my prime minister in my own country an asshole.  However, my friends in this country dare not to say anything negative about their prime minister or those in charge… because the ones who dared to speak up are already in custody.  Would they ever come back to their family and loved ones alive and well?

The Canadian federal election is going to take place on May 2nd, 2011.  I have been thinking about what this means to me, living where I am.   The right to vote is so precious.  I wonder how many people in Canada actually realize this and not take this right for granted.  We are an apathetic bunch.  Many of us can’t be bothered to vote (“There is no point to vote.  We can’t change.  We are voting for the same capitalistic system no matter who you vote for”).  This kind of attitude had fucked Canadians- this is why we have a douche bag like Stephen Harper being our Prime Minster for as long as he has.  This kind of attitude pisses me off.  We have the fucking right to choose our government (if you don’t believe me, come to my part of the world and you will see that indeed we have some control over who governs the country, whether we like it or not).  So please, for fuck’s sake, vote if you are lucky enough to have the right given to you.  I’ve applied for my special ballot.  I am praying in my godless way for the postal systems both in this country and in Canada to deliver my ballot to me in time so I have enough time to DHL it back to Ottawa.  If I am putting in all this effort to vote while I am on the opposite end of the world, you (if you are in Canada or somewhere closer than where I am) have no excuse.  Perform your civic duty and make a difference.  It’s not a right that is given to everybody in this world.

And dear friend in this country I live in: I  can’t change what you think and I don’t want to.  Whatever it is you believe is happening in your country, is irrelevant to me.  Just like you, I want peace and stability for this country and its people. May peace be upon you and your family.  And please pray for me (and Canada) that Stephen Harper does not win this election.

I can’t name the country I refer to- the last thing I need is for some foreign military or cops to break through my door and haul me away for something… for something I believe is right and true- people’s right to speak their minds!  Sure they might not say things I like to hear, but people in Canada still have the same right as me to speak for the everything I don’t believe in.   Alas, I live in a country where people don’t have this right… so I am self-censoring for my own safety.  Thank you for understanding.

Ever since the Canadian government in Ottawa refused additional landing rights to Emirates and Etihad, the national air carriers of the U.A.E, the Emaratis seem to have been pissed-off at us.  To show their wrath, they’ve revoked the Canadians’ privilege to receive free one-month tourist visa upon arrival.

This really wouldn’t have affected me at all as I had already moved away from Dubai and currently live in Bahrain.  I do not have to worry about my family or friends unable to visit me due to the stiff visa fees that are imposed on Canadians.  In fact, I laughed when I heard the news and thought the whole thing was so ridiculous, and then I didn’t actually care.  Actually, I had wanted Ottawa to open up to Emirates and Etihad.  Maybe if they had, I could get a direct flight from Dubai to go home… and maybe then, Air Canada will actually need to get their shit together in order to stay competitive.  I was hoping that one day Air Canada will be a good airline that has such terrible service and so stingy with their booze.

None of this visa issue was relevant to me until one day, I was talked into visiting Dubai for a celebration brunch.

I didn’t originally want to go- I didn’t want to deal with the hassel.  I read that a 30-day visa could cost $250 and I just really didn’t feel like paying that.  Why would I want to pay to go to a place I didn’t really like in the first place?  Then, I found out that since I have a GCC residency visa from Bahrain, I should be able to go to the U.A.E without having to pay a large sum of money.  So, I decided, (with the help of Mr. Polat) that I shall go to Dubai for the weekend.

On the day of my travel, while at work, I was told by a friend that I should double check to make sure that I can indeed enter the country.  I called the U.A.E. Embassy in Bahrain, and they told me that even though I have a GCC residency visa, I would still need a sponsor to go to the U.A.E.  I was also told by various travel agencies that I should be able to pay for a visa upon arrival.  I also read that  as a GCC resident, I can get a visa upon arrival (and pay nothing).  All very conflicting, confusing and not at all helpful.

I decided to try my luck anyway.  At this point, I really wanted to go to Dubai.  I figure if they don’t let me in, I will use the “cry tactic” as it is typically effective for a girl to get her way while dealing with Arab men in public places (I should have figured this out when I first moved to Dubai, rather than during my last day there, when I broke down to tears after the young government dude said ‘tomorrow, in shallah’ after I asked him for a piece of paper I needed so I could leave the country with my bonus.  Oh, and that was my third day in a row asking the same dude for the same thing).  If the ‘cry tactic’ doesn’t work, I will then make a big fuss, get drunk in the terminal and then hop back on the plane to Bahrain.  Luckily, I didn’t have to do either of those things…

Once landed in Dubai International Airport, terminal 3, all I had to do was (1) fill out one form that’s actually not that long, (2) chase after the duty officer, who wears a green military-looking uniform and could be anywhere around the passport control area, and 3) fork over 185 AED (roughly 18.5 BD or rough 50 CAD).   All in all, I only had to stand in three different queues and was out of the airport within an hour after landing.  I do miss those days when I could come and go at the Dubai International Airport!  None of this paying and queuing -three- times business!

I guess I will put up with feeling like a second-class citizen again just for more moments like these!

I guess my orderal wasn’t too terrible.  After all, the U.A.E visa is still cheaper than the Turkish visa (45 Euros- I wonder what we did to them).  Although Turkey is a far cooler place to visit and would be my top place for vacation, Dubai is indeed much closer and cheaper.

Seriously though, if it wasn’t for my friends in Dubai, I wouldn’t even have bothered to go back… and now that I have gone back, I realize that I did miss the stupid, crappy country!  I reckon I will go back there again, feeling like a second-class citizen in order to hang out with some of the most fabulous people I know!   Maybe next time, I will actually have time to go to IKEA.

5:20 am.  It’s still pitch black outside as I make my way out of the door to the park.  I like running in the dark because I can’t see other people and they can’t see me.  I can ignore the world and run, run, run!  By 5:55 am, I can see the day break.  Everything has a soft halo surrounding it, the trees, the little rest area buildings, the people.  I can see the street cat darting through the jogging path, trying to catch mice.  This is also the time former shadows start to emerge and become people.   There are a handful of women who are walking in pairs.  However, at this hour, most of the people out and about are men trying to get their daily exercise before starting a day of work, like me.  There are also labourers wearing blue jump suits, flowering the plants, picking up the trash.  This is also the time when the stare awakens.  As soon as it’s light outside, every time I casually glance over someone, I am met with unmoving, unapologetic and hungry stare.

After all this time, I still don’t know how to deal with this.   Some days I am really pissed off.  I will go out of my way to glare back.  Unmoving and hostile, turning my head and keep staring as they pass me.  I do not flinch, I am completely shameless.  Sometimes he looks away momentarily and then stare back again, as if surprised that I have the nerve to stare back.

Somedays I am in a good mood and may feel like being friendly.  When my glance is met with a stare, sometimes I smile back and say hi.  Sometimes my good intention is misinterpreted as some sort of invitation to solicit additional attention.  It’s like they think I might stop, or maybe take off my clothes.  Sometimes even after I smile and say hi, they stare at me just the same, as if I haven’t spoken a word.  One time, I smiled and said hi to a guy who was staring at me.  He smiled back broadly, showing me his pearly whites.   It’s amazing with a smile does to a person- all of the sudden, he seems like a real human being, rather than a deprived animal who hasn’t seen a woman in flesh in eons.

Lately I’ve been tired and weary.  I don’t have the energy to be pissed off or to be friendly, so I just ignore everybody.  I usually smile back to a guy with the broad pearly-white smile, but I do not glance at anyone anymore.  Until one day, I notice a guy wearing a dishdisha  hanging out by a bench near the jogging path.  Even without me glancing his way, I know he is staring at me.  I run past him without acknowledging his existence.    I run past him a handful of times, until at one point, he come closer, to the middle of the path and mentioned for me to wait.  I did not.  I nodded to him and kept running.  This asshole does not have any good intentions.   He probably thinks I am a whore.  Or maybe he wants an Asian girlfriend.  Either way, what person tries to make someone stop jogging for him so he can talk to her?   Arugh!  I hate his staring.  I hate all their staring because no good feeling comes out of it, no matter how angry or friendly I am, or how hard I try to ignore them.

Sigh.  I used to believe that people had good intentions.  Living in this part of the world is making me lose that belief.  I used to stop and chat with people.  Not anymore.   99 out of 100, when men stop me on the street or when people stare, they have nothing but bad intentions- they either want to fuck me, or they are judging me.  It’s all very depressing to think about.  And all of this started with a stare, and constantly being stared at.  I have to deal with it though- my only options are to stay home and never go out or cover up by wearing an abaiya all the time.  God, can you imagine jogging in an abaiya or wearing long sleeve shirts and long pants?  I’d die.  It’s impossible for me to stay home all the time and it’s just impossible for me to wear any more clothes than I already do (which is a lot more than I did when I was home in Canada).   I keep doing what I do, jogging at 5:20 am each morning and being stripped naked in someone’s mind 347 times.

I absolutely hated my time in library school and mostly had a terrible time.  The worst class looking back is my first year foundation library class.  It was awful.  My professor hated me, thought I was a terrible writer, thought I wasn’t good enough, thought I would be a terrible librarian.  I was loud and obnoxious- but not loud and obnoxious like her.  God, I hated that class and I hated her.

I am the hot librarian baby.

The thing is, she was probably right.   I don’t always take my role as a librarian very seriously.  You probably often hear me  joke about my profession.   I play up the typical stereotypical librarian role (I can be the sexy vixen librarian when they let me wear what I want to work.   I can also easily be the old, cranky spinster type when I haven’t had my morning coffee and in a foul mood-   It really depends on my day).  You probably even have heard my speech about how I don’t want to be a librarian for the rest of my life, and that this is just an means to an end,  my bread and butter for now.  I assure you, this is just temporarily thing, blah blah blah.  Yes, I am a bibliophile and a lover of information, technologies and social media.  But that’s not the definition of librarianship.

The end of the day though, as much as I hate to admit it, I am a librarian.  This come out evidently when someone tries to fuck with one of the values of librarianship.  One of the very few things I took away from my detested library foundation class was the core values of librarianship.  According to the American Library Association (ALA):

“We uphold the principles of intellectual freedom and resist all efforts to censor library resources.”

I hold this value close and dear to my heart.

On my second day of my new job in Bahrain, one of the ladies working there had been showing me around the ropes of my new workplace.   As an after thought, she said, ‘oh, by the way, this book needs to be coloured in.’  It was one of those classic literature that has been adapted into a graphic novel, which proved to be extremely popular with our students.  Of course there are some naughty things in there every so often, like a boob here, a cock there, that type of thing.

I looked at her dumbly.  On the surface, I didn’t know how to react.  Meanwhile, my head was exploding inside, ‘did she just tell a librarian to colour in a book?  Is she out of her fucking mind?!?!’

She goes on explaining that if the book is not coloured in, it will not be allowed on the shelf and students won’t be able to read it.  Therefore, it is necessary to do this as it is the lesser evil.

‘I guess so’, I said.  I didn’t want to make a scene with my new colleague.  I just got to this country three days ago for god’s sake.  I barely knew where I lived, I didn’t feel it’s the right time to make an enemy.  I smiled stiffly, took the book and the marker from her while my head is ringing, ‘Censorship, censorship CENSORSHIP!’ and “How fucking dare you!?!  Who the hell do you think you are to tell them what they can and cannot read?!?!”

Oh Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas (the civilized bits of the world) any more.

Oh, please free me from this censorship bondage! Let them see my naked pain goddamn it!

This is the difference between a librarian and a non-librarian working in the library.  I usually hate making this distinction- it’s snobbish, arbitrary  and unproductive- but it is justified in this case.  When you are not trained as a librarian, you don’t have the same love for information, the righteousness for intellectual freedom and equal access.  In library land, censorship is probably one of the worst things on the face of the planet.  There is really nothing worst than that, except okay, depriving someone of information, or not having a library at all is probably just as awful.  But you get my point here.

The graphic novel is collected for the library for a reason.  Before August of this year, this institution did not have a librarian on staff.  I am the only other librarian right now- the first one being the library manager.  But this book was probably collected for a reason- someone thought that it would be good for the students to read some classical literature in a more accessible format (I can’t remember the title of the book- I was too distraught by the prospect of having to colour it in).  Someone probably thought it would be a good idea to encourage students’ reading habits and promote literacy within the school.  And collecting this particular item meets the mission of the library (the mission which I had just written in a collection development policy recently).  So, the question is why should it be censored?

I know where I am.  I know that I am in Bahrain, which is a Gulf Country Council (GCC) state located in the Persian (Arabian) Gulf, in the Middle East, sandwiched between Iran and Saudi Arabia.  The majority of the population is Shia Muslim and conservative.  I know people get offended when they see scantily clad women (what am I doing in this country again?).  Get this:  they don’t get squeamish when they see brains blown up into bits.  They are not offended at all.  My understanding is that extreme violence okay.  Even racism is still better than sex and boobs.  Or the word vagina.  That’s the dirtiest word of them all.

My logic is that no matter where you are in this world, if you don’t like something, don’t look at it.   However, you do not have the right to tell other person not to look at it.  It’s their god given right to pursue the information they choose.  Of course there are things I believe that have no place in any library (or anywhere for that matter) - child pornography.  It’s wrong on every level and should be actively banned.  I think this should be one of the morally wrong things in this world and everyone should agree with me.  However, there are other controverail materials out there that I don’t like that I think may have a place in the library- hate speech publications, propaganda material, books on how to make bombs and create a chemical warfare, books about the wonderfulness of George W. Bush and the war on drugs (I am sure a book like that exists).   I am not saying to collect things thoughtlessly- there has to be good reasons to collect all materials, everything purchased and put on the shelf should have been evaluated critically.  If the material meets the needs of the library and there will be a demand for it, by all means, collect it.  A military library is probably going to have books on making bombs.  Do I like them?   No.  Do I have to go and look at them?  No.  What’s the problem?  So you don’t like boobs?  Don’t look at them.  Put the book back on the shelf and pick a different one.  What’s the problem?

I want to cultivate an environment of critical thinking.  I don’t want the Bahraini students of my school to be the moral defender after they graduate and enter the workforce.  I don’t want them to be the types of people who think they know better than everybody else and should have the right to tell people what they can and cannot access.  I hope they have better things to do, better ways to contribute and make a difference in their society than telling someone what they shouldn’t do, wear or read.  I want the students to be educated and open- minded.  I want them to ask tough questions, evaluate both sides of the coin and create positive changes in their country.  I want them to be good people, to be fair and tolerant.   I want them to finish school knowing well that have the power to change their society and to uphold intellectual freedom for their country!

I am a librarian.  I am a defender of intellectual freedom.  I am a fighter against censorship.   So, if I get fired from my job in the next while, you will know why.  I hope you will have a couch for me and Mr. Polat to crash.