I haven’t made it a secret how crazy the past 5 months have been. I finally found time in May to disengage from what’s become the hectic norm of life, take time off, and enjoy the foreign lands– in this particular case, the US! I was actually planning for a New York trip, mostly… Continue reading New York, The Mad
I was not this person. I had spent the last two years and a half trying as hard as I could not to be this person. Trying not to think about [it] at all. Because whenever I did think about [it], I felt this awful mix of rage and confusion and longing and sadness and insecurity burning my stomach. So I had just…put it aside. I’d just not let myself go there. And I’d become so good at it– the not thinking. So good that I’d actually been able to fool the world into believing I was a perfectly normal, well-adjusted, happy human being. I’d even kind of convinced myself.
— He’s So Not Worth It by Kieran Scott (Edits a few parts done by me)
“I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. Just call on your inner vixen.”
“My inner what?”
“Your inner vixen. It’s what I always do when I feel less than confident. I ask what my inner vixen would do. She always gives me the courage to be the strongest woman I can be.”
— Imposter by Jill Hathaway
Disclaimer: I used the word “we” very loosely. I’m aware that not everyone shares my views. Also, I use the word “Westerners” loosely. There are fabulous individuals that not only tolerate, but respect. Sometimes, I feel we, Arabs, are more tolerant than other outsiders give us credit for. Honestly. We’re exposed to a lot of… Continue reading Guess what: Tolerance has a blind spot
I may be late or ahead of time, depending on what date I’m following (which I myself am not sure of), but I figure that this particular dedication to a particular parent is worth a post. I could write sentences about how awesome mothers are– mine in particular. I could write a whole list of… Continue reading #ThankYouMom
Disclaimer: In which I speak about a very obscure generalization of the self. A couple of months ago, I stumbled on this scene in Orhan Pamuk’s book, White Castle. One of the protagonists, an inquisitive Turkish scholar whose quest of knowledge scares his fellow citizens, asks his Christian slave: “Why am I what I am?”… Continue reading Am I Me?