I believe that music is an important part of the human experience. I have very specific memories associated with certain songs. They each represent something different in my life; these songs either have deep and significant meanings or have been important to me at one point or another.
- Agnes Obel – Riverside.
- Ed Sheeran – I See Fire.
- Joseph Attieh – Helwa.
- Sweedish House Mafia – Don’t You Worry Child.
- Tove Lo – Imaginary Friend.
- Sara Bareilles – King of Anything.
- Kelly Clarkson – People Like Us.
- B.o.B ft. Hayley Williams- Airplanes.
- Gym Class Heroes ft. Adam Levine – Stereo Hearts.
- Glenn Morrison – Goodbye.
I’ve been in a really ‘blah’ mood today and instead of writing something geared towards how I’m feeling I wanted to write about things I’m grateful for.
- Waking up to a brand new day.
- Having a car that gets me from point A to point B easily.
- Drinking tea, because it is soothing for the soul.
- Having food on the table.
- Having a job, even if I don’t want to be there half the time.
- Mom’s cooking.
- Having the access to internet.
- Running water.
- Owning skin care and makeup products (because sometimes looking good and having good skin days makes be feel really good).
- Having family and friends that genuinely care about how I’m feeling/doing.
These are things I wish I could to each of you, but can’t.
- You’ve made me smile each and every time you’ve called me ‘beautiful’.
- Is that one Katy Perry song about you? One minute you’re flirty, the next you’re closed off.
- I really wish things had gone a different way between us.
- What is your problem? What crawled and died up your ass?
- I intimidate you because your masculinity is too fragile.
- I asked for your number not because I was into you; but because I was making connections.
- Stop asking me why I’m wearing makeup and who I’m trying to impress.
- Why did you distance yourself from me?
- I ignore you because sometimes, my mental health can’t handle you.
- Thank you for being such an amazing role model.
Something I miss
I have all the feels about his particular post.
Three years ago (2015) I spent most of my summer in Lebanon visiting family and friends. It still makes me smile when I mention my visit to anyone. I consider it to be the trip of a life time and I can’t wait to go back.
One of my fondest memories from my visit is the time when my cousins and I drove across the country to walk through the Cedars of Lebanon.
As I close my eyes, I can feel the cool, crisp air. The memory of climbing over large rocks and tree roots as I walk down the winding path, brings me joy. The patches of sun beating down on my shoulders and the warmth it brings my body is exhilarating. I can reach out and touch the leaves between my fingers; their texture is soft yet rough. I am at ease with the people I am with.
Family and friends.
The late nights sharing drinks and anecdotes.
The hot days of Beirut.
The family lunches and dinners.
Being called ‘my cousin from Canada’.
Hiking in the mountains.
Swimming in the ocean.
Driving down winding roads to new adventures.
Being teased about my Arabic pronunciation.
Teasing them about their English.
Playing bubble soccer.
Sitting on the beach.
The promises made and kept.
Bar hoping and day drinking.
Dancing in the car.
The shenanigans, pranks, and silly stunts.
The way my aunt and mom used to dance when they were happy.
My uncle’s dad jokes.
‘Kiss me again’ as a recurring curse.
… so, so much more.
But mostly, I miss the experience, and the cherished the memories.
What would happen if you were locked in a room with your greatest fear?
The answer seems relatively simple; keep your distance from said fear and find a way to get the heck out of there. Sometimes it’s not that easy. Our fears aren’t always physical. Sometimes our fears cloud our judgement; and sometimes, our fears are so visceral that they take over us completely.
So, what am I afraid of?
I find questions about love, fear, death and life quite difficult to answer. Death has always been difficult for me. I’ve lost a few people I’ve loved over the years but I was always too young to understand what it really meant. I’ve never been properly equipped to deal with it.
Nor do I think I’m capable of dealing with it now.
When someone I know has a family member or friend that passed away, I do this thing where I try not to let it get to me. I feel like all I can do is offer a hug and my condolences without really understanding what the death of this person meant to them. I tell them that they are in a better place, that they’re happier in heaven, that I’ll say a prayer for them that… I understand how they must feel.
But I don’t.
I’m not afraid to die.
I’m afraid to love.
I’m afraid to lose someone I love.
Dear Role Model,
You were my teacher before I even went to school. You lived with us for ten years before you left the country to chase your dreams and follow your calling. You were my uncle, a father figure, a teacher, and my friend all at the same time.
When I was little, you taught me how to ride a bike, how to use the computer for educative purposes, and how to follow my own dreams. You used to share your wisdom and life experiences with me. You spoke to me like I was not just your niece but an equal. I remember how you used to tell me that if there is something in this world that can never be taken from me, it is the education that I will receive.
You always encouraged me to go to school and get a higher education. You used to always tell me that money and material objects have no real meaning in life: they come and go. Education however, and the knowledge I will gain from life, stay with me to the very end. You used to tell me that I can lose everything but my knowledge.
I plan on carrying your words with me and passing it on to those I have the privilege of meeting.
If it weren’t for you, I don’t where I would be or if I would be the same person I am today. I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for being there, for encouraging me, and for advising me every step of the way.
Day 11: Most Proud Moment-many days late.
This took me a long time to really think of. I didn’t know where to start or how to really express myself when it comes to being proud of someone or myself.
I was on a train leaving Rome with family when I received the email. I had found out that I was admitted into graduate school to complete my Masters. I felt so much joy and so much turmoil all at once.
I was excited to be continuing my education and pursuing my dream to teach at a college or university level. Yet in that same exact moment, I felt like I didn’t deserve to be there. The impostor syndrome started kicking in before I even began.
I was told to be proud of myself but I wasn’t and ti sat with me for while.
A few days later, I attended my uncle’s PhD. thesis defense.He had spoken a lot about his work and his research and what he hoped to achieve in the future.In many ways, he is my role model, the person who encourages me the most, who still does. It was not until a room full of people clapped and cheered for him when he received his doctorate that it dawned on me.
I didn’t feel proud of myself because I was too busy being proud of him.
My most proud moment is not my own, not yet. But it will be.