The resistance inside...
I have always felt like the black sheep.
Born to a Moroccan father, raised in a Caucasian family, insanely shy as a child, yet passionately loud when intervening family fights. I could never quite figure out who I was, or who I was meant to be.
It wasn't until the roots of wisdom grew deep within that I one day . . .
Stoking the internal fire
I hated history class as a kid!
Whenever possible I avoided watching period pieces like the plague. I couldn't relate. But as I've gotten older my outlook on history has changed, especially as it links to my fascination for time and moments. It gauges growth and change, and I respect it now as a valuable learning tool.. . .
Posted in: life muses
The beauty in death
I had the strangest reaction to the final episode of 'The Big C'... a television show about a woman dying of cancer.
Besides being a teary eyed mess by the end of the episode, I woke up the next morning still crying!! The thought of her being gone. Leaving behind her teenage son. Her husband. Her brother. Family and loved . . .
The day I crashed my own party!
It fascinates me how one innocent moment in my life. A moment that should have been fun, carefree and joyous, can turn into such a pivotal moment of regret for the rest of my life.
It all started with a simple decision.
A choice that I made when I was maybe 8 or 9 years old, that has clung to my memory like a parasite . . .
We all live it. Breathe it. Endure it. But do we ever accept it?
For me, it all started when I was 30. Until then it never crossed my mind. I think in some unrealistic, fantastical part of my brain I actually thought I was going to escape the process.
I was an anomaly. An exception to the rule. Aging didn't . . .
Posted in: about me
Searching for life's purpose
At the time it seemed like such a ludicrous question.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I scrunched up my nose and frowned. How could I possibly know the answer to that question? I hadn't even finished High School.
I looked at my dad and shrugged my shoulders, replying indignantly.. . .
Posted in: about me
The strength of a mother
I have always questioned life, my existence, and why I'm here.
Perhaps because I never knew my biological father, that I was a 60s baby born out of wedlock, that my mother's decision to keep me was not her first thought. That even though not yet fully formed I withstood her anguish, desperate actions, and held on.. . .