I mean - What the heck?!
I am sitting in my living room sweating like a pig. I try not to rest my hands on laptop as I type since it is too hot. I try to keep my feet planted on the floor tiles which were cool few hours ago. Now in order to cool my feet I have to move them a bit left and then right once I heat up the spot. Even my head feels hot. I drink ice water with lemon wedges.
However I refuse to put airco on, since it is only March. MARCH. And since it will just make matters worse if I go out for even a sec.
We measured 38C yesterday. In shade. Today is a bit cooler (but house heated up since I figured its going to be cool today and left all doors open all night - HA!!) - 32C. That bloody gibli was blowing yesterday adding more sand into the house. At least I think it was gibli - sure was hot enough.
Its all making me feel like its summer. Only its not. Ah, the beauty of Libya.
If only I had cold beer in the fridge...
Mar 29, 2009
Mar 22, 2009
Libya & Power of Speech
I noticed this pattern in behavior long time ago. And it has been bugging me since. I am referring to comments that Libyans leave on different blogs (mine included). Now, this is about Libyans that leave comments, I am sure that there are plenty out there who think differently but do not bother to comment.
Every time I read about some even slightly sensitive topic (and trust me, ALL topics on Libya are sensitive), there are at least 10 comments telling that person off. And its always the same. Commentator will say something along the lines - you are wrong, its not like that.
Once I stumbled upon a blog entry of local Libyan girl. She was saying that (some) young woman in Libya are not happy with having to wear head cover. She was saying that there is no real choice, because if a girl/woman does not wear it, society (often male part of it) pushes it on her. She wished that Libya is more tolerant and that young woman had more choice in their lives.
The answers were as usual. Several comments just claimed that - Libyan woman like to wear head covering so she is wrong. Several commentators said that that men do not care either way, but woman in Libya are free to do what they want and they ALL want to wear it. Between these 2 types of comments there was a third one - "We love Libya, Libya is beautiful country". I see it often here, this need to proclaim that Libya is best country in the world. Even if it would be, that is not an argument, but mere statement not supported by fact. Anyhow, it was just weird to read.
On blog entries such as that one, poor blogger is going to be attacked from all sides to "show" that it is not like that in Libya.
The whole thing reminds me of sheeps. One goes certain way and all have to follow. "Black" sheep is going to be attacked from all sides and pushed back into the herd. And clubbed over the head for misbehaving. But that is if Libyan says something "wrong".
But if you are a foreigner and you write something Libyans disagree with? The response is swift and to the point - leave Libya! (emphasized by stomping their little leg on the sand road).
I must ask - why is that? Why is it that if I write something you disagree with, your comment is so extreme? Not only I should stop writing it, I should LEAVE Libya completely. Why can you not handle different opinion or point of view?
I have received several comments which end with - Go Home. Some of them are published, some are not. So I ask you - are there only 2 options here - agree with Libyans (that comment) and write only what they "approve of" or Go Home?
Every time I read about some even slightly sensitive topic (and trust me, ALL topics on Libya are sensitive), there are at least 10 comments telling that person off. And its always the same. Commentator will say something along the lines - you are wrong, its not like that.
Once I stumbled upon a blog entry of local Libyan girl. She was saying that (some) young woman in Libya are not happy with having to wear head cover. She was saying that there is no real choice, because if a girl/woman does not wear it, society (often male part of it) pushes it on her. She wished that Libya is more tolerant and that young woman had more choice in their lives.
The answers were as usual. Several comments just claimed that - Libyan woman like to wear head covering so she is wrong. Several commentators said that that men do not care either way, but woman in Libya are free to do what they want and they ALL want to wear it. Between these 2 types of comments there was a third one - "We love Libya, Libya is beautiful country". I see it often here, this need to proclaim that Libya is best country in the world. Even if it would be, that is not an argument, but mere statement not supported by fact. Anyhow, it was just weird to read.
On blog entries such as that one, poor blogger is going to be attacked from all sides to "show" that it is not like that in Libya.
The whole thing reminds me of sheeps. One goes certain way and all have to follow. "Black" sheep is going to be attacked from all sides and pushed back into the herd. And clubbed over the head for misbehaving. But that is if Libyan says something "wrong".
But if you are a foreigner and you write something Libyans disagree with? The response is swift and to the point - leave Libya! (emphasized by stomping their little leg on the sand road).
I must ask - why is that? Why is it that if I write something you disagree with, your comment is so extreme? Not only I should stop writing it, I should LEAVE Libya completely. Why can you not handle different opinion or point of view?
I have received several comments which end with - Go Home. Some of them are published, some are not. So I ask you - are there only 2 options here - agree with Libyans (that comment) and write only what they "approve of" or Go Home?
Mar 10, 2009
Libya & Why Me God?
Ah, there we go. You know how every bad deed goes punished? Or so they try to teach us in primary schools? Well, maybe not any more, but they used to.
Well, I obviously did something wrong. And now the Wrath is upon me. Or it is just a coincidence?
First there was a toilet. Then it broke. And not just broke, no-no, it leaked. Leaked! All over the floor. And does our bathroom have a drain on the floor? Well of course it does. And are the tiles tilted towards it? DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!!!!! Naturally, they tilt toward the bedroom. And did the toilet at least have the decency to leak loudly so I can hear it and start jumping around in a clown manner? (You know, that little frantic dance you do when you are pissed off and no one is watching?) Well, of course it didn't (insert manic laugh here)!! The bastard leaked in silence.
Just when I moped the floor and calmed myself down (long process mainly including fantasizing that I live somewhere else) dishwasher leaked. Luckily for me the dishes inside were not dirty. They were caked-up mushy drippingly dirty. And where is the kitchen floor tilted to? Why yes, towards our new fridge of course. And did that happen loudly? Of course not! I must however, acknowledge the luck I had when I walked in the puddle (it came under the fridge but then apparently decided to invade the center of the kitchen as well) and did not fall on the slippery slope and hit my head in the kitchen counter. If I did, I would surely realize while wiping blood from the cupboards, that the leak was actually in the cupboard and not under the dishwasher. In that case I would not keep squeezing mopped up puddle into the sink....
I must have been watched by the snickering Gods (yes, plural) when the amount of fluid I squeezed in the sink finally decided to overflow from the cupboard on my clean pants. And feet. And the surprise of it made me finally slip and fall.
The End.
Well, I obviously did something wrong. And now the Wrath is upon me. Or it is just a coincidence?
First there was a toilet. Then it broke. And not just broke, no-no, it leaked. Leaked! All over the floor. And does our bathroom have a drain on the floor? Well of course it does. And are the tiles tilted towards it? DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!!!!! Naturally, they tilt toward the bedroom. And did the toilet at least have the decency to leak loudly so I can hear it and start jumping around in a clown manner? (You know, that little frantic dance you do when you are pissed off and no one is watching?) Well, of course it didn't (insert manic laugh here)!! The bastard leaked in silence.
Just when I moped the floor and calmed myself down (long process mainly including fantasizing that I live somewhere else) dishwasher leaked. Luckily for me the dishes inside were not dirty. They were caked-up mushy drippingly dirty. And where is the kitchen floor tilted to? Why yes, towards our new fridge of course. And did that happen loudly? Of course not! I must however, acknowledge the luck I had when I walked in the puddle (it came under the fridge but then apparently decided to invade the center of the kitchen as well) and did not fall on the slippery slope and hit my head in the kitchen counter. If I did, I would surely realize while wiping blood from the cupboards, that the leak was actually in the cupboard and not under the dishwasher. In that case I would not keep squeezing mopped up puddle into the sink....
I must have been watched by the snickering Gods (yes, plural) when the amount of fluid I squeezed in the sink finally decided to overflow from the cupboard on my clean pants. And feet. And the surprise of it made me finally slip and fall.
The End.
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