About five years ago, I started working on, what I called, a Collection of Recollections. I would sit down at my typewriter and write about something from my past. It was usually about people. I had intended to type it up on the computer and compile it into something whole and complete.
(more…)Tag: Autobiography
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How far back in your family tree can you go?
Three of my grandparents died before I was born. I wish I had spent more time getting to know my one grandmother. Since her death, ten years ago, I’ve heard stories about how much she loved me. I don’t know why. I never knew her well enough for her to love me.
I do know that all of my grandparents lived in Tanzania. Whether they were born there or not, I’m not sure. I think so. That part of my past is gone now. I’m lucky enough to have been left with something my parents never had at my age: their own parents.
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Just Write
“Dude, just wake up fifteen minutes earlier.”
“I will.” (more…)
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Running out of time
It must have been a couple of years ago when I decided that I wanted to write a novel by the time I turn 35. I’ve flirted with the idea more seriously since I wrote the reminder on the whiteboard that hangs above my desk. With only 11 months to go, I’m not sure that I’m going to make it. (more…)
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Day 11 of 30
The writing was on the wall, my Facebook wall, and it read, “You should smile more!” Being cautious even at the suggestion provided by stop signs, I was given pause upon reading this. (more…)
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Outting CoR
Writing is incredibly difficult work. It’s not for lack of time or ideas, but for the lack of actual words that I can pour on to a page and still have them make sense once they’ve been neatly arranged to form a coherent sentence. (more…)
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I’ve Always Wanted to be White
My real aim with this post – even though it feels incomplete, and the title seems unnecessarily dramatic – is to personalize a global issue. I’m going to address an issue, however rudimentarily, that I’ve been planning, and have started, an entire book on: exposing my identity. With this post, I want to become part of the conversation about what it is like to be a Canadian who was raised as a Muslim. (more…)
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Where I Live: Mariposa
This is the first story, in a short series of stories, about my experience in Mariposa. So, to kick things off right, I’ll begin with where I live.
From the outset, please be aware that any facts I state, about anything, in this or any of the pieces about Mariposa are all coming straight from my head, and may not be true.
I don’t know whether you know Mariposa. If not, it is of no consequence, for if you know Canada at all, you are probably well acquainted with a dozen towns just like it.
Excerpt From: Stephen Leacock. “Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town.” iBooks. https://itun.es/ca/_ZEZD.l
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My Cat Snores, While I Search for Sleep
Riel has been in my life for just over four years, and we’ve developed a bond. Before I had Riel, I didn’t understand what it meant to have a pet that you really care for. I thought that pets were simply subjects in a one-sided relationship.
Last night, while trying to fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning, it dawned on me, how much I care for this little creature. He’s my buddy. (more…)
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Closing the Book
Mavis Gallant died today, and the news carries a certain import for me. I’m not very well read, or particularly attached to her writing, but her story, and stories, seems to resonate with me. (more…)
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Do You Still Keep the Scars on Your Wrist?
I have seven fading scars on the wrist of my right arm. I put them there, twelve years ago. I used cigarettes. I used to smoke menthols.