Deep Questions (Part 2)

1. Is stealing to feed a starving child wrong?

I was actually contemplating a similar situation I’ve seen on TV today in which two brothers stole from illegal gamblers to pay their father’s hospital bill, caliming that it’s alright to steal from bad people.

Even though it’s a good cause, stealing is stealing. *Shrugs*

2. If you had to teach something, what would you teach?

I don’t believe I am knowledgeable enough in any topic that I can confidently say I can teach, but if I had to choose, it would be grammar. I’d just need to brush up a little on it, because I feel that I forgot a lot of the terms and rules because I don’t use them as much now as when I was copyediting. My colleagues at work sometimes ask me questions, which helps me a lot in retaining my knowledge.

3. When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards and just do what you know is right?

When it’s something you’re very passionate about or you really want to do, as long as it’s not dangerous or harmful in any way.

4. Would you break the law to save a loved one?

That’s a very difficult question to ask a law-abiding, obedient, and conscientious citizen. I believe it depends on the seriousness of the crime and whether the person deserves the sacrifice, haha. For example, if it would involve harming an innocent person, I wouldn’t do it, of course. But if it were a misdemeanor, for example, then I might (notice that I still said “I might.” It’s hard to imagine myself shucking off my “perfect citizen” status).

5. When it’s all said and done, will you have said more than you’ve done?

I’m not the type who says things before doing them, except when I want to be discouraged. I believe that if I really want to do something, I should keep it to myself, so that if I changed my mind or realized that I’m incapable of it at least it would be between me and myself and I wouldn’t have to endure shame or mockery from other people. It actually turned out—scientifically—that it’s the right thing to do if you actually want to go through with decisions, because telling people beforehand subconsciously discourages you, and you eventually give up on them, but not in all cases, of course.

6. If you had the opportunity to get a message across to a large group of people, what would your message be?

That they’ll never be able to make everyone happy. So they should do what makes them happy, regardless of what other people think, as long as it’s nothing wrong or dangerous.

7. If the average human lifespan was 40 years, how would you live your life differently?

I would’ve already immigrated to Canada to gotten my dream job and not worried about getting a master’s degree. Life would be too short for that!

8. What do we all have in common besides our genes that makes us human?

Besides our shared lifestyle as well (going to school, getting a job, having a family), we have our empathy and sympathy toward each other. Of course, people have them at varying degrees (and some have none), but it’s the norm that we do.

9. If you could choose one book as a mandatory read for all high school students, which book would you choose?

Notes On a Nervous Planet by Matt Haig, because it’s written for this age. While I was reading it, I felt that it’s a must read for teenagers, because it could be life changing for them. It teaches very important lessons about life and how we should live it to be happy and productive. Teenagers usually focus on the petty aspects of life, because their perspective of it is very narrow, and since they’re at a stage in which their personalities and identities are not yet fully formed, they tend to be easily influenced by social media (which is also addressed in the book).

10. What’s something you know you do differently than most people?

I eat pizza slices backward, because I want to get rid of the boring crust first and then indulge in the flavorful and cheesy tip.

11. Are you more worried about doing things right, or doing the right things?

I’m more worried about doing the right things. What’s the point of doing something wrong the right way?

12. What is the one thing you would most like to change about the world?

I would disband all armies, so countries would resort to non-violent means of resolving disputes.

13. Where do you find inspiration?

I find it in simple acts of kindness and in hard-working people.

14. If we learn from our mistakes, why are we always so afraid to make a mistake?

No one likes to “learn the hard way,” because it would involve either pain or shame, and a mistake is a mistake; it doesn’t matter what we get from it.

15. What is the most defining moment of your life thus far?

Finding out that I suffer from social anxiety, OCD, and inferiority complex. Even though I have them in mild form, learning that I have a problem, that has a name and a cure, changed my life.

Who Put That Wall There?

I was in fourth grade. The bell just rang for recess. I was about to enter a building when I saw a friend coming. Whenever we see each other, we would play tag, so as soon as I saw her, I turned around to run. Forgetting that there was a wall on my right, I bumped into it so hard I fell face down on the ground. I got up with pain in my right temple, so it wasn’t really that bad. I sat up, and a friend sitting nearby gasped. She was gaping at my shirt. I looked down and found it blood soaked! That’s when I started crying.

My friends rushed to help me up and took me to the administration building. I remember I was almost dragged there, with each of my arms around a friend’s shoulder and my head dangling. I must have looked like a horror movie character, being almost dragged that way, wearing a blood-soaked shirt; it was a scene kids shouldn’t see.

When we arrived at the building, one of my friends went to the principal assistance’s office and asked her to come. When she saw me, she said, “Oh, my God, what on earth happened to you?” I don’t remember if I replied or one of my friends did, but then she asked me to go and wash my face in the bathroom. I was still crying when I went there. After I washed my face, I looked at my reflection in the mirror, and oh, I wish I didn’t: two of my front teeth were chipped, and that made me cry even harder.

I went back outside, and this time the principal was there. She said, sympathetically, “Oh, my God! Come here little girl. It’s alright, it’s alright,” and she hugged me (yup, that’s the same principal whose daughter spitted on me), with my blood-soaked shirt and all. The principal’s assistant was worried that I would stain the principal’s clothes with the blood on my shirt while she was hugging me, as if that’s the biggest issue there. She kept murmuring, “your clothes, your clothes. Be careful.”

Then, the principal asked me if I wanted to stay at school or go home, which was rather a ridiculous question, because when I said that I wanted to stay, she pointed at my shirt and said, “aww, how would you stay with your shirt soaked with blood?” The principal’s assistant asked me if there was anyone who could come and pick me up. I told her that my dad is at work and the place is pretty far from school, so she suggested that they drive me home (that’s something I really admire about that school’s staff: how caring they are. The events of the day showed that they actually cared; they didn’t just want to get rid of me). Then I told her that there wouldn’t be anyone home, because my mother used to study Qur’an at a society close to our house, but she said we would go anyway.

A teacher drove us, the principal’s assistant and I, to my house, and, as expected, no one was home, the door was locked, and I had no keys. So we went to the society where mom was. The teacher and principal’s assistant went inside to get my mom, and I waited in the car. About fifteen minutes later, mom rushed out of the building, crying! Oh, my God, what have they told her? Her friend was behind her, and they all got into the car. From what I recall, mom wasn’t relieved to see that I was alright; she was annoyed that she freaked out over nothing. She didn’t give any indication of that, but I realized it because she hadn’t talked to me at all during the ride home. She either misunderstood what they told her, or they misdescribed the situation.

I didn’t tell mom the truth about why I fell in the first place until a few years later, because it sounded ridiculous: falling like that because I misjudged the location of a wall because I was about to play tag? Kids’ lives are full of ridiculous, inexplicable events that adults don’t understand. However, she didn’t believe the true story nor the lie (in which I said that a girl pushed me! I can’t believe how I could blame it one someone else!).

That afternoon my dad took me to a dentist to get my chipped teeth repaired, and the dentist said that I should get dental crowns once I’m thirteen or fourteen, but the filling remained intact for fourteen years! It didn’t even fall off; I just had to get it replaced after I got my braces. That dentist was awesome!

P.S. I still have no idea where the blood came from.

Deep Questions (Part 1)

1. When was the last time you tried something new?

On Wednesday, I made nutella-filled cream puffs for the first time. They were delicious, but they weren’t dry enough. I realized I should’ve kept the oven turned on to dry them instead of just placing them in it while it’s turned off. I’m glad they were overall successful, though. It’s just incredible how they puff up without any raising agents! I wonder what causes it.

2. What gets you excited about life?

My future plans! Nothing gets me more excited about life than working toward achieving my ambitions, and, of course, if I’m about to have a new exciting experience (even if it was as simple as baking something new).

3. What life lesson did you learn the hard way?

That I should just accept people as they are and not try to change them. It’s a fact that nobody’s perfect, and I should live with that. Of course that doesn’t mean I’d accept all kinds of imperfections; I only mean minor ones that can be tolerated. It took me a very long time to realize that. I went through so much mental strain and struggle to try to change my loved ones so they’d become perfect. I took my perfectionism too far that I wanted even the people I care about to be perfect. Wow. I needed a shrink.

4. Do you ask enough questions or do you settle for what you know?

It depends on the situation. Sometimes, it’s better to know everything there is to know about a situation. At others times, what you know is usually enough. For example, I’d ask a lot of questions if I’m about to embark on a risky experience, because I need to know everything beforehand to avoid problems. In other situations, sometimes the less you know the better. Personally, I love a little mystery when it comes to new fun experiences. I like the feeling of not knowing what will come next (but only if there are no risks involved), for example, when discovering a place while traveling. You know it’d be more fun to learn everything about it yourself without asking beforehand.

5. What’s a belief that you hold with which many people disagree?

I believe that one can lead a perfect life while being completely ignorant about politics, because it does not benefit people (who are not involved in it) on a personal level. Most other topics benefit people personally, whether science, health, geography, even sports. What benefit do I derive from learning about relations between countries or their policies? What’s so tricky about politics is that you can never verify the information you receive. It’s mostly learned through media, which is not always a reliable source. You can’t use a map (geography), ask a doctor (health) or a scientist (science), or practice a sport (sports) to verify the information you receive (unless you were involved). Besides, you can never use your political knowledge for a general good. It’s mostly used for discussions, which mostly lead to quarrels and disputes because of differing opinions.

6. What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?

People’s judgement doesn’t affect my behavior. I do what I please as long as it is not a sin and it doesn’t upset my parents.

7. What do you regret not fully doing, being, or having in your life?

I regret wasting years of my life at a career that’s not my dream job. I’m still at it, though, because it’s a stepping stone toward getting my dream job.


8. What is the difference between living and existing?

When you exist, you don’t take part in your life or anyone else’s. You’re just there, not contributing to anything, to the point that it doesn’t matter if you didn’t exist. I also think that if you live without any goals or ambitions, you’re simply existing.
However, when you live, you have goals that you work toward; you know what you’re doing with your life and not just living from day to day. Also, when you live, you add something to someone else’s life, and it matters to them that you’re there.

9. Is it possible to lie without saying a word?

Definitely! You can lie with your eyes and body language. You can also lie by being silent. I’m a bad liar because my eyes always give me away. I can’t make eye contact if I’m lying. I actually can’t make eye contact most of the time. When talking, I’d look everywhere else but at the person’s eyes. I can’t bring myself to do it, for some reason. I wonder if that makes people think I’m lying.

10. If you had a friend who spoke to you in the same way that you sometimes speak to yourself, how long would you allow this person to be your friend?

Wow! That’s a very deep question. Well, I won’t be close friends with her (I can only have female friends), but I’d tolerate her, I suppose. I always encourage myself not to give up when I’m facing a challenge and praise myself when I do good, but, sometimes, I’m harsh to myself when I make a mistake. I’ve had a bad habit of calling myself “stupid” when I do something … stupid, but I’m trying to change that. I’d make excuses for it, saying that I wasn’t focusing or that I was just ignorant about the situation (because that’s different from being stupid). I try to be as positive as possible, even inside my head.

You should give answering these questions a try, too. It’s fun! You can do it privately, down below in the comments, or in your own blog, if you wish. It’s always good to get to know yourself better.

Racism I’ve Experienced

I believe it’s extremely rare for a black person to live in a predominantly white society and not experience racism. I was no exception. I can thankfully say that I’ve only experienced racism as a child, but it was enough to cause an inferiority complex that still persists. 

My first encounter with racism was in second grade. It was my first year of school in Bahrain. I still couldn’t speak in the Bahraini dialect and there was still a lot for me to learn about school life. 

It was recess, and I was walking peacefully toward a building when suddenly, a girl passing me spitted on me; just like that; for the mere fact that I’m black. I was still new, so she doesn’t even know me. I was too shocked because I’ve never experienced such a thing before, but I was old enough to understand how degrading and hurtful it is. It was too humiliating that I was ready to wipe the spit off my face and pretend that it never happened. 

She knew I won’t fight. First, because she knows that black people are usually weak against white people, and second, and most importantly, because she’s the principal’s daughter. The fact that I was older didn’t make a difference. The mortification was amplified because it wasn’t an individual act: her friends cheered her on.

As a child, it was too difficult for me to believe that the principal, who was extremely kind, understanding, and unbiased could raise such a daughter.

I believe the most damaging racist experiences I had were in sixth grade. I moved to a new school, where 90% of the students were Bahraini (my previous school had only 40% of them; the majority were from various Arab and Muslim countries), and I experienced a cultural shock. Most of the students looked neat and had expensive school bags and stationery, and the excellent quality of their uniforms was obvious.

From my first day there, I noticed the racist group distribution in my class: black and fat students were seated together. You can guess where I was seated. 

One day, I was walking to my seat in class and wasn’t paying attention, so I accidentally bumped into a classmate walking in front of me. She started huffing and puffing and was extremely angry and disgusted as if I placed a snail on her shoulder.

In PE, we were arranged in rows. It was the same arrangement of students for the whole year. I was one of the tallest in my class, so I was placed at the back of the row. In order for the distance between students in each row to be equal, we were instructed to place our hands on the shoulders of the classmate in front of us. The classmate in front of me had the same notion of “black means dirty,” so she asked me not to place my hands on her shoulders. 

The idea that I’m considered “dirty” because I’m black was so embedded in my brain that I was constantly surprised when white people touched me and let me touch them as I grew up. It took a very long time for the idea to change. And I believe it formed the basis for my inferiority complex.

The racism I experienced in school didn’t come only from students. During that same year, we went on a school trip to an indoor play area. At the end of the trip before we left, we were given permission to go to a candy store outside the play area. All the students went, except me and another students. We both didn’t go because we didn’t have any money left (my dad gave me money only for the play area and for lunch).

One of the supervisors noticed that we didn’t go to the candy store, so she opened her purse and took out some money amd gave it to the other student. She looked at me and knew that I didn’t go because I didn’t have money, yet she didn’t give me any (and I can assure you that it wasn’t because she didn’t have enough). She pretended that I wasn’t there. I can still remember how much it hurt me. I didn’t care about the money or the candy; I just wanted to be treated equally. I wanted to feel that I deserve it, too. My friends were kinder than her and shared their candy with me.

And, of course, there was the occasional “nigger” shouted by kids on the street (always boys), where they must always be in a position where I can’t get to them, had I decided to, whether by being in a car or too far off, because, apparently, they were cowards.

I was used to it, so it didn’t bother me much. I just didn’t like it when they called me that outside the school where other students were present, because then they would look at me. I keep wondering how they must have felt or thought. I usually pretend not to hear or see if someone was insulted in front of me, so I keep wondering if they felt awkward and embarrassed for me.

I know that what I’ve experienced is very mild compared to what other people around the world must have experienced, but that’s because people in Bahrain are generally nice and not very racist; the proof is that I never experienced racism after school. Actually, I feel that people are being extra nice to me so they wouldn’t be considered racist.

I don’t know if things have changed now. What I feel, though, is that there aren’t enough black people in Bahrain for parents to ensure that their children are unprejudiced. In school, I was one of two or three black students in my class, and during my first two years of college, I was the only black student in every class.

My Worst School Year

My worst school year was ninth grade. I didn’t like most of my classmates, and I’m sure they felt the same way. During that year, I met the students I saw in cartoons and movies and thought don’t exist in Bahrain. There was this girl, let’s call her Maggie. She used to bully me by making fun of me at every opportunity and interpreting everything I do negatively so that all her friends would hate me too. I became close friends with one of the girls of her circle, let’s call her Rachel. Rachel would invite me to hang out with them in school, but her friends didn’t want me to, so Maggie would try to give me a hard time so I’d leave them. Rachel would stand up for me, though, and Maggie would shut up. When we became even closer, I sat next to her in class, which made me part of their class group and that made Maggie even worse. She even tried to persuade Rachel to stop befriending me.

Once day, one of my classmates came to me saying that some girls from the class want to talk to me. A dozen girls were waiting for me at the sports yard. Once I got there, they all began scolding me for something I said during a school trip. We went to the zoo days before, and there was this sign that said, “Sudanese Gazelle.” Maggie’s group saw it and said mockingly, “Sudanese, ha ha!” I turned around and said, ” Sudan is a crown on your head,” which is an expression used in the Gulf region to defend something that has been mocked or demeaned. My classmates were scolding me for degrading them by saying that. Guess how did they even find out? Yup, Maggie! She never missed an opportunity to make everybody hate me. I don’t remember if I defended myself or I was left speechless by the accusations, but I remember that the situation really upset me, and I walked away with a lump in my throat. I was never attacked that way before in my life.

The bullying got really bad that I had to ask my mom to put a stop to it when she came for the parent-teacher conference. Mom talked to her in the nicest way possible, but she cried; she had CRIED and said that she was only “teasing” me. Mom didn’t tell me that she had cried at the time. I only found out a couple of months ago. She only told me what Maggie had said. And again, I would’ve reacted very differently if I knew that she’s that weak and sensitive. I would’ve used it to my advantage.

She still didn’t stop the bullying. After that meeting, whenever she bothered me, she would say, “Now the cry baby would go and tell her momma!” and everyone would laugh (I swear I felt like I was a character in a cartoon or TV show or something; I didn’t know these things actually happen in real life).

I realized much later that she bullied me because she was jealous since I was a better student than she (we were both black). I might have reacted differently if I knew at the time.

After that year, I met her in a school we went to for a lecture, again in college, and at a friend’s wedding and she seemed so innocent, as if she wasn’t ever the reason someone hated a whole school year.

In the same year, I had in my class another one of those never-knew-existed-in-Bahrain students. The stuck-up girl who thinks the world revolves around her and whom no one could stand on her way, including teachers. The funny thing is, she had the same name as Maggie, but I’ll call her Maddie to avoid confusion.

One day, a couple of girls and I were standing on her way, literally, so she said, “Let me pass!” in her spoiled-girl, high-pitched voice. I mumbled something under my breath that translates to “I hope a wall would fall on you.” It’s an expression used around here when someone you hate asks to pass through. I have no idea how I dared to say that. You wouldn’t even dare curse her in your head, let alone say it out loud, but I guess it was a slip representing my inner feelings for her. I was sure no one heard me, but I was still scared after I realized the gravity of what I did. About half an hour later, I saw her coming toward me out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t turn or even look her way when she stopped beside me nor when she talked to me just because I didn’t dare to. She said, “I guess you don’t know me well enough. I am Maddie O_____, remember that name well!” (I’m not sure about the accuracy of the second part but it was something along these lines) and then she walked away. I was so scared but relieved at the same time that it came to that and not something worse! I accused my friend of telling her because she was standing next to me when I said it, but she swore that she didn’t, and to prove it, she went up to Maddie and asked her. It turned out that Maddie’s side-kick heard me and told her.
A year later, Maddie dropped out of school; I forgot the reason, though, and I never saw her again.

I was never bullied before or after that year.

My Favorite Baking Recipes

I thought this is a perfect place to post my favorite baked good recipes, which I have spent years perfecting. Just kidding, that applies to my chocolate chip cookies recipe only. I also had to try 4 brownie recipes to find the perfect one. Most of the rest were first attempts.

I spent years baking chocolate chip cookies, because I was trying to perfect them and because my friends would keep asking me to make them. Eventually, I realized that baking is SO many other things and not just chocolate chip cookies, so I started expanding my baking horizons.

It took me a VERY long time to realize that baking cookies for ten minutes is not a “very short time” and they will not be “raw.” That’s why most of my first attempts were overbaked. I couldn’t believe it until I tried it, and the result shocked me. They were so soft and chewy AND not raw.

My number one problem when it comes to baking is that presentation is not one of my strong points. What I bake would taste fantastic, but it never looks good enough for me to post it on Instagram. This is due to a couple of reasons: I’m extremely impatient during baking, and cooking in general, and presentation is all about patience and meticulousness; I simply don’t care if it doesn’t look good because I know people would eat it anyway; and the obvious reason is that I’m terrible at it. It’s not like I have these amazing decoration skills that I just don’t have time to apply.

I noticed that whenever I save a “recipe,” I save only the ingredients, without the method. And then I realize my mistake, every. single. time. I lost my best chocolate chip cookies recipe for two years and was so sad and heartbroken about it, because it took me years to find the perfect one. Now, it only took typing “cookies” in my email search bar for me to find it. And as I mentioned, it’s only the ingredients. I have a rough idea about the method, so I’d rather provide a trusted one.

2 1/4 cups flour
1 1/4 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1/4 cup icing sugar (I prefer using icing sugar so the texture would be smoother)
1 cup melted butter
1 egg
1 egg yolk
1/2 tbs vanilla
2 cups chocolate chips

For the method, this is a link to Tasty’s Best Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies, because I trust them. You can use their ingredients, too; no hard feelings.

Chocolate Chip Cookies Recipe

I made these chocolate chunk cookies recently, but they weren’t the best (I used a different recipe)

My favorite brownies recipe is Tasty’s Best Fudgy Brownies.

Brownies Recipe

If you follow it to the T, you’d have amazing brownies that would leave everyone who tries them beggining for more.

They’re to die for

Brownies tip: Chocolate brownies are ALWAYS better than cocoa powder brownies. You know what? Don’t ever make cocoa powder brownies, period. W̶e̶l̶l̶,̶ ̶u̶n̶l̶e̶s̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶l̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶s̶ ̶c̶a̶k̶e̶y̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶b̶i̶t̶t̶e̶r̶.

Most of my first attempts are successful, but of course that wasn’t the case when I was just starting, back in 2012. The first chocolate chip cookies I made were so runny, I couldn’t understand why the recipe said I should use an ice cream scoop to drop them on the pan.

This was my first attempt at Stefano Faita’s Kitchen Sink Skillet Cookie back in 2014.

I made blondies only once, but they were delicious.

Blondies Recipe

I thought they were too bare, so I added chocolate chips

I also made shortbread cookies only once, but they were so successful, one of my colleagues at work asked if I could sell him a batch (bragging is the only way I can convey the success of the recipe to you *shrugs*).

Shortbread Cookies Recipe

(It’s obvious how much I love Tasty. And of course I made them without the royal icing; I just wanted a shortbread cookies recipe I can guarantee will be successful.

My most recent first attempt was blueberry muffins. I don’t even know why I made them since I don’t even like blueberries, but they tasted really good! They were so light and fluffy. A friend shared this recipe with me.

Blueberry Muffins Recipe

I know, it looks like mold

Cupcake/muffin tip: They’re ALWAYS better with butter, not oil. Unless you’re an amazingly skillful baker.

My most recent first attempt failure was the Swiss roll. It looked so lovely, you’d think it tastes perfect, too. Ha ha, it was inedible. I used a recipe that said that I should wait a while after I take the sponge out of the oven before I roll it. I’m still not sure if the recipe was wrong or if I did it incorrectly, but it was so rubbery (I’m assuming because I overbeat it?), and the edges became too hard, almost crispy. Besides, I used the wrong pan size. Yeah, it was a messed up attempt.

Books That Changed Me

• Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff and It’s All Small Stuff by Richard Carlson: This book was recommended to me by my sister. She said, “the only thing I learned from this book is that you need to read it.” Now that I did, I can’t agree more.
This book is simply life-changing. I read many self-help books that contributed largely to my personality and behavior, but none were as life-changing. It taught me to become more patient and to accept life as it comes to me.
Basically, when I read this book, nothing bothered me anymore, whether it be people in my life, unexpected turn of events, or misfortunes. I became exactly like old wise people who are always calm and collected and would keep on smiling even if you dump a bucket of water on their heads. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but, seriously, after reading the book, my attitude towards whatever problems life throws at me was a shrug and an “okay.”
Here are a few examples of how the book improved my life:
– I don’t drive too fast anymore (and I still can’t believe that all the stress driving caused me was because of that little detail; I don’t hate driving as much anymore).
– I became more tolerant of the people I don’t like.
– It doesn’t bother me anymore if I didn’t complete my to-do list.
– I don’t get angry or upset as much as I used to.

• Rising Strong by Brené Brown: This book taught me to become kinder and have a more positive perspective on life in general. It helped me deal with my emotions correctly and maintain my relationships with people by being honest without hurting their feelings.
It also helped me understand and know myself better. I had a lot of Oh-my-God-that’s-so-true moments while reading it.

• The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan: After reading this book I completely stopped eating processed food or that containing any substances derived from corn. How can I when processed food is just a means of getting rid of the corn surplus? We are not dumps! And how can I contribute to the profit of companies that don’t actually care about our health (most processed food is unhealthy) and care only about their profit?

• Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway by Susan Jeffers: the only thing I learned from this book was in the title; The whole book just discusses it and gives examples that help convince you further. It’s just one sentence, but it was so powerful. I just needed to know that it was alright to be afraid. Even the most confident and fearless people were afraid at the beginning. They just don’t show it.

• Crucial Conversations by Kerry Patterson: This book had a profound impact on my life. It taught me how to have difficult conversations that would in normal circumstances turn into an argument or a fight. After I learned how to do it, I was never afraid to tell people anything, because I was confident I can do it the right way, leaving no hard feelings.

• How to Talk to Anyone by Leil Lowndes and How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie: these books also taught me important social skills and how to convince people to do what I want without yelling and repeating myself.

Phobias I (mostly) Overcame

I used to have aquaphobia. The idea of being inside any large body of water terrified me. I think it all started from a near-drowning childhood experience I had. I was probably 5 or 6 years old. I was in a pool with my father and brother. I still vividly remember myself sinking in the water and looking at the surface with the sun’s reflection on it and thinking that I was going to die, but then my father or brother snatched me out (I still don’t know to whom I owe my life). I didn’t think much of the incident afterward. It just surprises me how I still have that picture in my head of the water surface and thinking that I was going to die. It took me many years to make a connection between my aquaphobia and that incident. I never thought it traumatized me.

I was terrified of water, but I loved swimming, so much so that I was ready to bottle up my fear to do it. I learned to swim when I was 10. I was at a friend’s house, where they had a pool, and I was swimming in the sun shelf with younger kids. All those my age already knew how to swim and were swimming in the deeper side. The mother of one of my friends told me that I’m too old to swim in the sun shelf, so she decided to teach me how to swim. The whole time I was following her instructions, I was too afraid to let go of the pool coping. She told me that I can’t swim with one hand and that I need to let go of it, so I did. After a while, she pointed out something I hadn’t realized: I made it to the deep water on my own! I couldn’t believe I did it! My friends were delighted with my accomplishment because then I could join them on pool floats and we can have water battles. I haven’t realized floats would be a leap for me until I jumped into one and fell in the water. I was terrified and reached out for my friend to pull me out, but she was too busy laughing at me. I was ready to cry, so she helped me out. I never touched multi-person floats again until many years later.

The next time I went to a pool was exactly a decade later. My friend’s mother taught me how to swim, but she didn’t teach me how to overcome my aquaphobia. So even though I knew how to swim, I was too scared to try and kept wearing my swim ring and holding onto the coping the whole time. It wasn’t until 6 years later that I overcame my aquaphobia, thanks to my friend. She asked me to float in the water, to just let myself go. It just took that for me to realize that I’m not going to drown and that water isn’t as evil as I thought. Once I realized that and swam all over the pool with no swim ring, I almost happy cried. I couldn’t believe I overcame my aquaphobia!

My only problem right now is jumping into the pool. I’ve never been that scared to do something in my life. It literally took me over 10 minutes to do it. Every time I thought I mustered enough courage and ran to jump, I’d stop just as I reached the edge of the pool. It’s too frightening for me! I realized I’m not afraid of drowning when it comes to that, because all my friends would be waiting for me in the water to help me out once I jumped. I’m actually afraid of the impact: the water piercing my nose and ears. I think I won’t be that scared if I was geared up for the impact.

I also used to have telephone phobia. Answering the phone terrified me. I would never pick up if it’s an unknown number. And I would be very awkward while speaking on it, because I’d be nervous I would say the wrong thing or not know how to respond and just mumble something (now I’m worried about giving the wrong response because I can’t hear what the other person is saying).

I don’t remember how it exactly started. I probably answered incorrectly once and said something really embarrassing that I was forever afraid of repeating it. I remember, though, that I didn’t have it before college. I was so normal, I would call back after a missed call!

I couldn’t tell anyone that I was afraid and I’m not sure if they noticed. I myself wasn’t sure why I was afraid, until I looked it up and it turned out to be a thing. Even if I did tell people, I don’t think they would’ve understood. “Telephone phobia? What? Why would you be afraid to speak on the phone?” And then I got older and needed to use the phone more often. Eventually, I realized that there is a pattern to it. Once I learned how to respond to different questions and expressions, it got easier, and I became less afraid.
I also learned how the conversation will go, so I would either practice beforehand or just call and hope for the best.

However (and there’s always a “however”), I’m still afraid of talking to members of my extended family, because I don’t know how the conversation will go, and that makes me very uncomfortable. It’s very difficult for me to hold conversations with people I’m not close with or I don’t know much about, and this would be on the phone, when I’m already nervous and awkward. I don’t want to sound like a kid who only answers questions and doesn’t ask any of her own.

So I can’t say I totally overcame this fear. It’s still there, but it’s not as bad as it used to be.

I also had taste phobia. This was pretty bad. I would never eat anything new. So I never went to restaurants because why would I pay for food I might not like? It wasn’t until my friend forced me, basically, to go to a restaurant that I actually started eating out. It was the same friend who helped me overcome my aquaphobia and a huge part of my OCD. Yeah, I’m forever grateful to her.

She invited me to go to a Chinese restaurant, but I was like, “Are you kidding me? I would never eat Chinese food!” (Now it’s my favorite cuisine) I’m not sure why my idea of Chinese food had to do with frogs. For me, Chinese food was frogs. So I thought, “What’s my friend thinking?” Yeah, I had a lot to learn. I agreed to go eventually, and I loved it! It was like a new door has opened for me. And ever since then I didn’t mind trying food from all over the world, unless it didn’t look appealing. For example, I wouldn’t eat squid or octopus. I even became braver than most people when it comes to trying new restaurants.

But I would be terrified if I had to eat homemade food made by someone I know is a bad cook, because when it comes to food, I really can’t pretend I like it. My face would immediately betray me.

P.S. To give you an idea of how afraid I was, I used “terrified” four times in the post.

A Person I Admire

It took me 26 years to find someone I genuinely admire. It took that long because I never knew someone well enough to admire him or her and because no one met my admiration standards.

I read Malcolm X’s autobiography and fell in love with his character. I was actually obsessed with him and talked non-stop about him the whole time I was reading the book. After I finished the book, I was hungry for more information about him; I wanted to know all that is available about him, even the smallest details. So, I watched the docu-series about his murder that is on Netflix. I wanted to watch the movie as well, but it’s too long and too old (I have this rule that I don’t watch movies that are longer than 2:30 hours and older than 2000).

I realized that most of what I admire about him are characteristics I lack. I admire his eloquence. He had amazing persuasion skills and was an outstanding influencer, even though he never learned to become an orator. He was simply an incredible speaker.

He was intelligent and gave the cleverest comebacks. He would answer provocative questions in such a manner that his questioners would have nothing else to say; they would storm off angrily because they failed to provoke him or would just be in awe of his brilliance.

He was also incredibly brave. He knew his cause would kill him, but that didn’t stop him from striving to achieve his goal. There were multiple attempts on his life, and he received death threats, but he never cowered. He knew he might die at any moment, but he continued on courageously.

He was charismatic. You couldn’t know him (not necessarily personally) and not love him and admire him.

It’s hard to find someone quite like him or who has lived a life like his. It’s so sad that during his time, they didn’t see him for what he was. His intelligence and passion were under-appreciated, if at all. He was quite an angry man, but his anger was understandable.

People with influence are always perceived as dangerous, even if their influence is positive. It only emphasizes humans’ fear of change.

Being Popular Is Dreadful *Eyeroll*

It was my high school senior year, halfway through the second semester, last period, environmental science class. I wasn’t feeling well: I felt so weak and tired that I had to lay my head on the desk. Even though I was sitting in the front row, the teacher didn’t seem to care that I, obviously, wasn’t paying attention, which might have been expected, given that it was last period. When the bell rang, indicating the end of the period, my friend nudged me thinking I fell asleep. When I lifted my head, I had difficulty breathing, and I started panting. My friend freaked out and called for other friends to come and see what’s wrong with me. My body was paralyzed. I couldn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t even speak because I had to keep breathing. The teacher asked my classmates to carry me to the nurse’s room.

When we arrived at the nurse’s room, it was locked; the nurse had left for the day. Awesome, huh? They put me down on a chair outside her room until it was unlocked, and then they carried me inside and put me on the bed. So much has happened then: people talking to me, asking me questions but I can’t respond; people talking on the phone asking what they should do in my case; people praying; friends calling their families telling them they will be late; so many people coming to see me.

It turned out I was in and out of consciousness without me realizing it. So, at one point, I regained consciousness and sat up. Everyone thought that I recovered, and they brought me a wheelchair, but as I was being helped on it, it started all over again: the panting and the paralysis. So they lifted me and put me on it. A classmate called her mother who works in a hospital nearby to come and pick me up, because the principal refused that an ambulance be called. At that point, the classmate’s mother was waiting outside in her car, so they helped me get into it, which required so much effort on my part that I couldn’t even sit upright on the car seat and had to put my head on the classmate’s lap.

When we arrived at the hospital, they brought me a wheelchair and took me inside, where I received medical care immediately. Two nurses worked on me: one measuring my blood pressure, the other testing my blood sugar level. At some point, one of the nurses, thinking I was unconscious, splashed my face with water so hard, I flinched. I was closing my eyes and too tired to move, so she thought I was unconscious. I was then laid down on a hospital bed and hooked to an IV drip. It was either that the IV had a super quick effect or that the pain from the needle being injected into my arm made me recover so quickly that the teacher who came along noticed it and asked me if I was afraid of needles. I wasn’t, so I still don’t know what helped me recover so fast.

Two of my friends, one teacher, and two supervisors came along, and I will forever be grateful for what they did. My parents came when everyone else left, and when the IV had been halfway empty I was dismissed.

This incident caused some trouble, though. A broadcast was circulated accusing the principal of being heartless and “having things to hide” because she had refused to send for an ambulance. It went all around the country, and, to this day, I have no idea who broadcast it.

It was Thursday when it happened and by Sunday the whole school knew about me. My friends all over the school came and asked how I was; teachers came, too. Students from all over the school came to my class and asked, “where is Zainab Saad?” (my name was written in the broadcast); others came up to me after I was described to them and asked for my MSN email (it was 2011), which was weird and creepy. I’ve never felt so loved in my life as much as I did that day, nor so popular. At first, it felt good to be so popular and to have random people in school smiling at you and asking how you’re doing. But after a while, it lost its charm. It was quite annoying to have students coming up to me asking me questions, and my classmates were exasperated by the number of students coming to our class asking about me. It was the time I knew how celebrities feel, though my popularity was nothing compared to theirs.

Some students told me that I shouldn’t let the principal get away with what she did and that I should do something about it, but I really didn’t care. I didn’t think it was a big deal, so I ignored them.

For the next couple of days, the nurse and the supervisors would ask to see me at their offices that as soon as someone would come in with a card of dismissal, my classmates would know it would be for me. The nurse and supervisors would question me on what and why it happened; I was so tired of repeating the story by then. I think I brought candy to my classmates thanking them for what they did. The same incident happened to me again in the same month, but at home. Luckily, my family were familiar with the situation, so they saved the day.

That incident was actually the worst-case scenario of hypoglycemia (non-diabetic in my case), which I learned about much later. Hypoglycemia is basically low blood sugar. If you have the reactive type, you begin developing symptoms when you don’t eat for 4-5 hours, sometimes for a much longer time; it all depends on what and how much you eat. Once I understood the condition, I never experienced the school incident again. I always made sure I have candy with me. I never leave the house without it if I’ll be staying outside for hours. The first symptom I always experience is shakiness. I immediately check if my hand is shaking. If it is, it means I’m about to experience a low blood sugar episode, so I eat candy or drink juice.