Dina's Non-Fic Writing Blog

Humor me for a moment and imagine along with me: you’ve just finished your research paper due tomorrow. After hours of tireless work, fingers slaving away at your keyboard at your desk, and multiple mind-numbing rounds of proofreading to check for a typo your teacher is sure to catch, you finally lean back in your chair at your desk at home, taking a sigh of relief. You deserve a break. After hours of work, you can afford a quick scroll through social media before you hit “submit.” Or maybe a little time spent on your hobby before you start your next assignment. You pick up your phone when - BANG - your door flies open and you hear the distinct voice of your mother “why are you on your phone?” I’m not too sure of your experiences, but I can’t even begin to think of counting how many times this scenario, or something very similar, has happened to me. I swear, my mom has a 6th sense where she knows when I’m not being productive.  Even though the general population of parents doesn’t ...

  Ever since I could walk, my family dubbed me the adventurous one in the family. My sister was the perfect representation of a poised and responsible daughter, ever since her toddler years. On the other hand, I was quite the “wild child.” Not in the sense that I would be disobedient, but in the aspect that I would let my curiosity get the best of me, sometimes finding myself in sticky situations because of it. For example, I would run outside without any shoes on no matter what the surface I was sprinting onto was made of, and go up to random adults, tugging on their shirt to answer a random question that had materialized in my brain only seconds earlier. Thankfully none of these adults thought to kidnap me at the time. However, my outdoor barefoot adventures had a different outcome, as one day I stepped on an upward facing nail that had started to show signs of rust. Even then I didn’t learn my lesson, wanting to head right back outside shoeless once my foot was somewhat acceptab...

  Although letter mail might be something ordinary for older generations, I feel that for someone of our generation, it can be quite special. We grew up in a world where someone on the complete opposite side of the planet could be contacted a push of a button, and wait weeks for mail to get to other countries, not even sure if the mail was lost along the way.  When I was younger, I would participate in mailing out some items, such as the annual New Year letter that my family would put together. My sister and I would stand side-by-side as we placed stamps on the top right corner of the envelopes and dabbed water on the adhesive portion of the envelope flap. We left the address writing to my mom at the time because our handwriting back then wasn’t exactly what you would consider “legible”. But ever since we started sending emails instead of physical letters, I haven't had an occasion where I would need to send out physical mail for about 10 years. So the day I started trading ca...

A closet full of matchstick boxes, books filled with stamps, and shelves loaded with K-pop albums and photocards. Yep, I’m confused too. Even though you might see these three items as completely unrelated, each belongs as a prized possession to a generation of the Hashash family. The first time I visited my grandparents in Lebanon, you can imagine my bewilderment when my grandfather immediately dragged me to a dusty old spare room in an apartment building instead of a landmark to do some sightseeing. Before swinging open the door, he puffed out his chest and told me that this would all become mine one day. As the door complained loudly on its hinges, which looked like they’d turn to dust any moment, a view rival to the Room of Hidden Things from Harry Potter was revealed. The room was the size of the first-floor hall with every nook and cranny filled with miscellaneous items I couldn’t quite make out from where I was standing. I was uninterested at first, but before I knew it, 3 hours ...

  You could interpret this question however you want -- does it imply that you would be changing some chosen event from your past, or that you would simply stand by and spectate it? Or is it implying that you’d be able to turn back time, taking yourself to that exact moment, being the same you with your current knowledge and life experience, simply transported into the body of your past self? Let’s take a look through each interpretation. If I were only able to return to a moment in my past to spectate, much like watching a sports game on the sidelines, I don’t think I would particularly wish to do so. The moment I, or most people would return to would probably be something of meaning or impact. Generalizing these two categories, the moments would probably be sorted into (1) returning to the past to see something I enjoyed or (2) returning to a point of regret to see what I could’ve done differently. Even though option 1 might seem like a good idea at first, because I’d be returnin...