About Me — Ali Saleh
Toronto Poet that firmly believes in the power of the pen
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Writing is hard. Everyone that’s ever taken this craft seriously knows that. Still, it’s cheaper than therapy. And, it’s a skill that rewards those who cultivate it.
I write for three reasons:
- to clear up the clutter in my mind
- to express ideas that I can never seem to fully explore in conversation
- to remind myself who I am and what I stand for
Writing forces you to slow down and carefully consider the ideas you aim to express. I’ve learned that quality writing emanates from clear thinking and, likewise, writing helps clear up the clutter in your mind. What’s not to love about that?
Coming of Age
I’ve always had a deep passion for words. When I was 12, I would crouch near my window sill to distill whatever moonlight I could find so I could read to my heart’s content.
I was enamoured by each thriller series I came across; Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Catcher in the Rye, you name it. Fantasy novels were like crack cocaine. I couldn’t get enough.
In school, when I had time to spare, I would comb through my thesaurus and record new words into my notebook to incorporate them into my lexicon. I would also spend copious hours in my local library absorbing all sorts of fantasy genres: manga, mystery, true crime, psychological thrillers. Anything I could get my hands on. I was obsessed.
There is no drug as potent as the imagination. I remember fantasizing about Tarzan while riding the bus on the way to school. The scene was so vivid in my mind’s eye. I was Tarzan, effortlessly launching myself across the canopy from one vine to the next. I could travel anywhere I wanted on a moment’s notice. Danger never even entered my mind. Responsibility? Who has time for that?
As a kid, I deeply admired Tarzan’s solitude, freedom and adventure. My mind was hooked on the fantasy of escaping into the wilderness.
The truth is, I admired Tarzan because I felt trapped. My surroundings suffocated me. I harboured a deep seated resentment, a hollow emptiness and a strong urge to regain control over my life. I just wanted to grow up already.
That day finally came. I turned 18 and the plan was simple: enrol in university, move out and travel. But, life has a funny way of teaching you lessons. I learned most of mine the hard way.
I didn’t get into the Schulich School of business, so I enrolled at the Ted Rogers School of Management. Since housing in downtown Toronto is ridiculously expensive, and the commute was only about half an hour, moving out didn’t make any sense. Additionally, I wasn’t able to secure a part time job in time. So, my finances were in shambles. And, given how limited my experience was with money, the little money I did salvage from grants and bursaries depleted very quickly.
My plan was to finish my undergrad program, attend law school, start a business and settle down in New York. But, I never really pieced everything together. Granted, I was young. Still, I should have known better.
My plans should have been more concrete. In hindsight, it was clear that they were nothing but wishful thinking. I never took the time to build the right habits to reach the finish line. I would just revisit it through short busts of impassioned activity, then recline back into my habitual laziness.
As I grew older, my plans would reappear in my mind with varying degrees of conviction. However, the idea of moving out increasingly grew unrealistic. I continued to struggle with my finances. Eventually, stress from all corners of my life accumulated; work, family, school, “friends”. I felt overwhelmed, like I was always behind, drowning in a sea of regrets and disappointment.
I started smoking cigarettes, staying out late, and pulling all nighters to keep my grades up. My grades did not stay up and my university placed me on probation. That was my first year of university in a nutshell. Everything went to shit and my life fell apart.
I knew that I needed to maintain a high GPA to get into law school. Yet, here I was on the verge of getting kicked out of my program. My failure took a serious toll on my mental health and my life took a disastrous turn for the worst. I fought with family, fell out with “friends”, and spent a copious amount of time alone suffering in silence. I was miserable. It seemed like no one understood and really cared to understand what I was going through. Even after having turned things around and removing probation from my record, I dropped out.
At some point, I just couldn’t take the pressure anymore. I lost interest in everything. I gave up. Nothing mattered anymore. I hit rock bottom.
If you expected some sort of heroic comeback story, you’d be sorely mistaken. I started getting my shit together once my mother berated me about being an unemployed bum. Sure, she was harsh. However, she was right and her timing could not have been better. At times, you need someone to spark a fire under your ass and remind you to stop playing with your life and take it seriously. There’s no one more equipped for that job than your mother.
I started off slow. First, I found a job at a call centre; a very humbling experience considering the salary was below average. Who cares. I had a reason to get up early in the morning, go outside, earn some money and give my mother less reasons to stress. Later, I found a higher paying job at Rogers. From there, I was able to save a little bit of money and start sketching out plans to return back to school.
I decided to enrol at the University of Toronto to study Political Science. After turning 22, I knew most of my peers were either graduating or launching their full time careers. Still, I wasn’t deterred. I found my spark in life again and I was determined to see it through. After years of despair and anguish, I finally felt a deeper sense of fulfilment. Happiness was around the corner.
I’m 26 now. It’s been a long journey, with all sorts of unexpected twists and turns. After years of sacrifice and dedication, I graduated from my program with high distinction. Just recently, I sacrificed my entire summer to prepare for my LSAT. After taking it in September, I was able to score in the top 15th percentile. I broke the news to my mother and she was happy for me. So, yes, I finally can say that I’m proud of myself.
Now, with a fresh outlook on life, I’m reembarking on my law school journey and hoping for the best. More importantly, I’m taking active measures to execute on my plans. I’m also in the best shape that I’ve been in years. Self discipline is incredibly rewarding and the payoff is priceless.
I’m very grateful to be in a stage in life where I’m healthier, sharper, more focused and driven than ever. I’m still nowhere near where I expected to be in at this state of life. Nevertheless, I’m at peace with with it.
The greatest lesson I ever learned is to never run from your problems. They will only grow and get worse. You have to face the music. Embrace the struggle, pain, misery, heartbreak and despair that life has to offer you. There are timeless lessons that can be drawn from it.
Here’s my lovely cat. His name is Yasha. Yes, cats are better than dogs. Sorry, not sorry.
