oh, hi!

That's usually a good way to start; that, or "no, you can't touch my hair."

Anyway, welcome to my little nook; I'm glad you found me. This is my corner where I verbally vomit the goings on of my chaotic world – occasionally making sense – then clean it all up and act like a sane professional again.

When I'm not contributing to "the slovenliness of [the English] language" by  creating my own words, I'm a linguistic miracle worker and confused twenty-something writer who loves to tell stories through pictures, words, and crazy adventures. I also have a knack for saying the things no one else dares to say, correcting people's grammar mid-sentence, and spontaneously picking up and getting on airplanes unannounced. It's a gift.


You'd think a writer would be good at talking about herself, but I'm really not. I would much rather sit down and chat over a cup of tea, where I can ask you deep, personal, potentially uncomfortable questions to get to know you a bit better. Until then, you should probably know that...

I answer to almost any name that starts with m; I also answer to 'Farah'. // I'm constantly trying to capture my displaced sense of home. // I walk around with red balloons in my purse. // I've lived more lives than the average cat. // Summer 2014: I crammed 4 other people and their belongings into my Camry and drove from Toronto to Los Angeles and back. // I'm still trying to figure out what I want to be if/when I grow up. // After 20 years of living in Canada, I picked up my life and moved back to Egypt. // My curls are as crazy as my personality.  // In another life, I wore nothing but black and rocked it out to P!nk and Sean Paul.

Somewhere in the messy confines of my mind are a clusterfuck of musings that only make sense to me once I articulate them in words - this is why I write. I write to maintain my sanity; I write to think out loud; I write to share stories; I write because it's my happy place.

I write because otherwise I send people really long text messages full of unprocessed thoughts that make absolutely no sense. 

"I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say." - Flannery O'Connor

The Girl With the Red Balloon. Photo by Ahmed Najeeb

The Girl With the Red Balloon. Photo by Ahmed Najeeb


That was before I worked as an editor for a publication that's part of a digital media agency – now I use hashtags relentlessly, identify as a bohemian twentysomething digital nomad, and have an ever-growing love affair with the Oxford comma. It's funny how life changes in your twenties.

As someone who both proudly and begrudgingly has taken to calling herself a wordsmith – because nothing else encapsulates writing and editing and proofreading and coaching and brainstorming and encouraging and drafting and blogging and drinking too much tea – I opted to freelance so I can do all things ‘words’ sans limitations. Around here, I call that wordsing.

Where do I want to go with all of this? Sure, I have the romanticized vision of becoming the next Khaled Hosseini or Mitch Albom - a Paulo Coelho or Erwin McManus. But, for now, I have this nearly poetic love for telling stories and helping others not only tell their stories, but discover that their stories are worth telling.

It doesn’t stop at editing articles or writing website copy. I want to invest my energy into doing what makes me want to get out of bed even when the covers are warm and it's cold outside: expressing essence through words and stories. I’m invested in this truth that every person is a culmination of stories, and part of what I do is help them tap into and express that element of who they are through words.