A Fruit Picker, A Missing Cat and Money in A Ditch

I was scrolling through www.MSNBC.msn.com and came across some wierd news I thought was worhty of sharing:

*Woman mistaken for monkey, gets shot.
Apparantly she was trying to pick fruit from her neighbours tree and, hearing rustling in his yard, the neighbour shot at her thinking she was a monkey. She was hospitalized and suffered a wound to the abdomen but is now stable. This took place in Malaysia by the way.

*Sofa Surprise: Cat found inside $27 used couch.
Watching a baseball match in Washington, a man felt something move inside his newly bought used couch. Upon closer inspection he found that a cat had managed to climb in through a tiny whole underneath and gotten stuck. This explained the previously unexplained meowing his wife kept hearing, ever since they had bought the used couch from a nearby store. After some media exposure, a man came forth and claimed his cat Callie, who had gone missing at about the same time he donated his couch to the store. Poor thing.

*Teen gives away thousands in cash he found.
Ater finding a stash of cash in a ditch by the road, a 16 year old boy gave away $11,000 of the original $18,000 to fellow students and school aide. When questioned, he at first said the money was out of his allowance, but later confessed to police that he had found it in a ditch along with marijuana and a set of scales. The money was collected back from the students but the boy did not face charges. The police called him "a good kid" trying to help those in need. With a drug junkie's cash.

Experience Is Vital

Becoming Jane. An autobiographical film that depicts the budding romance between not-yet-famous writer Jane Austen and a young Irishman Tom Lefroy.

Tom has a reputation. Let us just say that when a man has a reputation in late 18th century England, it is generally speaking not considered as being a compliment to his character. Barely staying awake during a reading performance by Jane soon after they are introduced, the two are off to a bad start. Tom later explains why Jane's writing failed to amuse him and gives her and the viewers his take on women and fiction.

If you wish to practice the art of fiction, to be considered the equal of a masculine author, experience is vital.

Tom here is referring to the kind of experience which has earned him his renowned "reputation". He suggests that in order for a female to be able to rise to the level of expertise that males have reached in the art of fiction, she has to forget all types of manners, all notions of propriety and decorum so she can gain the sort of experience needed, and considered absolutely necessary by Tom, in order to be able to write fiction that is worth reading.

Experience is, undoubtfully, crucial. But what type of experience are we really talking about? What are the modes through which a female is to aquire this experience? Most importantly, how has an unmarried English country girl, whose financial and social conditions were not of a high status, been able to produce 6 of English literature's most renowned novels? Surely, a female that falls under the labels listed above, can never be capable of doing, seeing, hearing anything, or capable of going anywhere that would finally render her "experienced".

Was Tom wrong in his presumption? Or was Jane Austen an exception to the rule? Or could it be, that Tom (along with the rest of the world) was blind to Jane's unruly ways, and that she indeed was, though in total secrecy, as experienced as any man in England?

Your thoughts please. Chop chop!

Dream Car

When one turns eighteen here, there is an inevitable question that has to be asked and duly answered.That question is: What is your dream car? (Or some other variation of it)Generally speaking, the Kuwaiti youth would already have prepared an answer to the aforementioned question. A Range Rover Sport was my sister's answer. A pepsi blue Wolks-Vagen Touareg, a Jaguar and a Mercedez-Benz jeep were among my other sister's choices.They don't necessarily get those dream cars, but it seems to be absolutely essential that a decision be made as to what dream car you dream of getting once you're eighteen.But when eighteen hit me, so did the horror of not having an answer to that seemingly divine question. What car do you want to drive? To be honest, I gave the matter some serious thought. I said to myself, let's see...I hadn't come up with anything (I couldn't have, really, I only thought for about a millisecond) when my sister interupted with quite an angry remark: "How difficult can this be? What car have you dreamt about driving all these years?!"And then it dawned on me...I didn't have a dream car. So that's what I said, I said: I...I guess I don't have one...I really haven't ever thought about driving, and dream cars, and other things of that sort."My sister's reaction? Well, what seemed like an angry remark only seconds earlier, was topped by a furious statement: Stop trying to be different all the time! (But that's a whole other different story I'll have to tell you about later.)

I learnt how to drive though. I didn't buy a car (nobody bought me one either) but indeed, I learnt to drive soon after turning eighteen and have been driving ever since. I drive my mother's old car, which isn't really old, but it's not new either. It functions alright, you know, it moves. Some light signals work of their own accord, the A/C has proved to be of a faultering nature and the seat covers are splattered with permenant diet Coke stains, but it gets you to places and back. And that's what cars are supposed to do, right? That should be enough. And it was. It is. And I'm not complaining. Not about the car, that is. Driving and it's pleasures, after two humble years of experience however, have proven to be, at least to me, extremely over-rated. I've met a fair amount of people who have described to me the high they get when they grab the steering wheel, and push their foot on the gas pedal, to the max, and see that highway disappear into the horizon in their rear view mirror. I've heard them talk about how the most relaxing thing they can ever imagine is a slow drive in the rain. Driving seemed to be the best thing ever. Not to me it didn't. And I'll tell you why not.

There are so many things that can go wrong when you're in a car, or on the road. Traffic, for one, would drive anyone insane! You try to deal with it, put up with it, work your way around it, but having to deal with it day after day after day...it's just, too much. Plus, no one (I must not generalize) most drivers ignore all driving rules known to mankind which is plain frustrating. Also, when you are under the mercy of a vehicle, a moving man-made automobile, that might decide to stop moving in the middle of the road, or that might choose not to work the brake pedal...it's plain scary. What about the little things that happen oh-so-often when you drive a car? The thought of the trouble that a flat tire, or a leak might bring along increases stress levels to unprecidented hights. And I haven't mentioned accidents yet.

Today, when the family was discussing the dream car issue again, on my cousin's eighteenth birthday, it couldn't be easier making up my mind as to the answer to the question this time. I would rather walk!