Dose of Reality: take four times daily.

Eventually we all have to come to a point when we realize that some things are out of our hand, difficult to change (to say the least) and even more difficult to control. For example, I'm never gonna be runway model- my 5"4 frame and typically "Egyptian nose" do not fit this generation's standard of beauty. I'm never gonna be a brain surgeon (at least in this life time)- I'm allergic to mathematics, memorization and being in school for 10 years. I, like so many other Torontonians, am never gonna know the pleasure (?) of going to sleep each and every night underneath glittering stars. And finally, if there's any hope of me making it anywhere, the responsibility, hard work, and determination required to get to that metaphorical somewhere will rest solely on my shoulders.

I've never been handed anything. No one has ever given me a dime I haven't worked for, a good mark I haven't toiled over to earn, or a free ride of any kind. There are those critics (who on a regular basis remind me I must be doing something right) who are quick to say that I may have ridden my good looks and/or exploited my different connections. There are those who say I'm spoiled rotten. Indeed, I have been lucky enough to be well taken care of, maybe even babied, by my doting parents and I would be lying if I said they don't do more than enough for me. But with that same token, they never ceased to remind me the value of hard work and persistence. I've had a job since the ninth grade, and even till now my parents find a deeper moral in choosing not to pay for my schooling. Speaking as someone who immigrated here from Egypt and never quite bought that "melting pot" theory they keep pushing at us, I understand what it is like to literally start from nothing.
I came to Toronto when I was a baby, but growing up my straight-forward, often brutally honest parents never forgot to remind me regularly what it was like immigrating here. My parents, both university graduates and successful in their respective fields, landed at Pearson Airport 20 years ago (almost to the day) with a $50 bill in their pocket. Through humbling jobs that I'm certain they didn't enjoy, persistence, a good work and savings ethic, and most of all HARD WORK, here we are. They can now proudly say they've bought a house and a car, taken an envious amount of vacations, successfully participated in the real estate market by buying and selling various properties in Egypt, and help ensure that both of their kids are healthy, full and busy.

To me, my parents define SUCCESS. I admire them more than they'll ever know and am deeply awed, humbled, and grateful for all the sacrifices I have watched them make. I know I have ragged on them a lot for things they failed to provide to me as a child, and I'll never forgive myself for all those nights I sat comparing our personal possessions to those of my more fortunate friends. It is their personal success story, their ultimate American Canadian Dream narrative and the overall outcome of their choices and sacrifices that will stay behind in my memory when the unforgiving hands of time pull everything else away...

Life isn't about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself...