No fun at all.

I'm scheduled to go back home on the 24th of December. That's Christmas Eve.

I'm taking a flight all the way to Qatar, from New York. Even though my destination is Riyadh in Saudi Arabia, which I'll be flying over to get to Qatar for a 4 hour transit stay at the airport. After that, I'll fly back in the opposite direction from which I came, and reach where I originally wanted to be.

Yay. So the 12 hour flights back home that I hated with a passion not only got longer, but now there's a 4 hour stay in Qatar.

Isn't that great? It's absolutely fantastic. I can't believe my good fortune.

I could've picked a much more comfortable route for much more cheaper, and have transit at a country like France or even England. But much thanks to my Pakistani passport, and ''my fellow country-men's'' willingness to cause violence - not a lot of countries around the world like us.

And not a lot of countries like me. Just because of my passport, that is correct. Note that I don't blame them. I'm just commenting on my good fortune.

I'm also a little cynical and whiny because I'm depressed about going back home. Does that sound a little odd? I'm sure it does.

I'm actually looking forward to seeing my family. I actually miss them, and don't really get to talk to them while I'm here. I hate conversations on the phone, and I made a point not to spend too much time on the internet... which didn't help of course.

It's leaving behind life here which is depressing me. You've probably heard me say this before, but I hate this feeling of leading two lives that I've had to deal with for the past 2 years... It's like I don't really have a home anymore. I don't really know much about what's going on back home in the middle east, and my parent's don't really know much about here. Other than the fact that I'm going to college and what not, but isn't that about 20% of your life?

I don't know any of my sibling's interests anymore, for instance. They've always grown so fast that I'm surprised and shocked every time I go back home, every 6 months. I don't know what they're ''into'' or what they've been doing in the not so distant past.

In short, I don't really communicate a lot with people 'back home.' Unfortunately... but can I be blamed for trying to pay more attention to life in the country I am currently residing in?

I can either live life and indulge in it's abstractness that can't be verbalized. Or I can pass by it, jotting notes down, trying to keep track and narrate it to an audience that doesn't really exist?

Besides, audiences are like the Gods we create and place on high chairs. Then they fall one day, and we're just like, "aww man." Bummer.

I'm depressed because... I like it here. And I wish my family could come to me so they could see what I've fallen in love with, instead of me having to go there and trying to verbalize it.

It's depressing... I think I've already mentioned that. Maybe I just felt like it needed more emphasis.

It's no fun being depressed, is what I think I'm trying to say here...

No fun at all.