Welcome to the Human Prototype blog, a space where the past and present converge to showcase the evolution of a life in progress. Inspired by my TEDx talk, "I am a Prototype," this blog is part of a broader journey of transformation through journaling, capturing the essence of living as a perpetual prototype. Each week, during 2024, I reviewed my archives from 2016, contrasting journal scans filled with drawings against the backdrop of my current experiences.
Sweetness and Sadness
Then: January 16- 22, 2017
Again, another week of daily meditation—at 6:30 AM!!! Wow, I’m very impressed with myself. I thought I had no discipline, but seeing this consistency, along with my consistency with journaling, encourages me to think that I could apply that same discipline to building my business idea instead of waiting for inspiration to make progress.
I’m also quite proud that I was able to deadlift 10 reps at 105 lbs—I don’t think I’d be able to do that today. I think I’d enjoy going back to some sort of muscle training, ideally with a nice group of people. Let me plant that seed right now and see what emerges. I don’t think I’m ready to commit just yet—I just got back to my Sunday yoga practice after more than a month of inactivity.
Back to 2017. I love seeing all the team meetings, trainings, and dinners in my journal. Now that I work in a global team and mostly from home, I don’t get much face-to-face interaction at work. I’m making an effort to go to the office more often these days.
That week, my friend Emilie told me she was pregnant—now she has two beautiful children. 🙂
On Saturday, I had booked a cleaner. I’ve never really gotten used to having someone clean for me. Just like getting my nails or hair done regularly, it’s not something I’m used to. I’d love to feel more comfortable with these things so that, if I can afford it, I could use that extra time to create more. But to be fair, I do have a lot of time on my hands. Apart from my job and keeping myself alive, I don’t have much on my plate.
On Friday, I went to the Mall of the Emirates and did a lot of shopping. I don’t even do that anymore. These days, I mostly stay home and stare at multiple screens at the same time—a small one, a medium one, and a big one—all doing their best to distract me from actually living my life.
Reconnecting with my life from 2016 and 2017 has been really helpful. My past self has been an inspiration to my current self. We tend to think we grow with time, but there are parts of my life that feel like they went into recession during COVID, especially socially.
This reflection also gave me a deep sense of gratitude for the experiences I’ve had and made me cherish the life I’m living in 2025 more than I probably would have without this exercise. At the time, I remember not enjoying those moments as much as they are depicted in my journal. Funny how that works.
But these days, and for the past few weeks, I go to bed thinking about all the great things I experienced during the day, and wake up deciding to have the best possible day.
One day at a time, I am shaping a positive experience of this life.
It doesn’t stop me from wanting something different, but in the meantime, I’m learning to appreciate the journey more.
Now: January 20-26, 2025
The week started with sweetness, was visited by sadness, and ended with clownness (yes, I know that’s not a word).
On Monday, I had a wonderful day at the office. I went in to meet a colleague visiting from the US and ended up seeing other colleagues who were also visiting from afar. What a joy to take the time to catch up—an impromptu lunch with some, then dinner with others. This happened after a challenging weekend and was very much welcome.
Thursday was a more difficult day. It was my last therapy session, marking the time to fly on my own and strengthen my support network. On my way, I made sure to grab a brown sugar bubble tea, which, in hindsight, was far too sweet for my sadness. Luckily, I had booked a ticket for Ganavya’s concert in an intimate space, giving me the room to pray and be hopeful.
Over the weekend, I took part in a clown healing workshop. It was intriguing to see myself open up and connect with others. That’s not something I’m used to—it feels strange to be seen. I tend to believe I’m invisible, fading into the background or letting a version of me that isn’t really me engage with others. And so, by doing that, I naturally feel disconnected. But I’ve gotten used to it.
Now, when people actually connect with me, it feels unfamiliar—almost scary. But I’m leaning into it, exploring what happens if I say yes to the hand reaching out to me for a dance. Maybe one day, it will feel safe.
In the meantime, I make a good clown. The instructor spoke about “giving the gift of joy”—as if the performance was a generous offering to others. And I like that. I tend to think of performing as a selfish thing because I enjoy it. Surely, if I enjoy something, then it must be wrong.
I learned early on that most of the things I enjoy are apparently not productive enough or won’t help me in life. So it’s better not to do them. Better to do the boring stuff instead. And so every time there’s something fun I want to do, I tell myself it’s a danger zone.
Yes. What a devastating curse.
But I’m working on it.
Listen, I’m not saying I shouldn’t do the boring stuff. But a bit of joy and fun would be welcome. They might not be productive in the capitalistic sense, but they are certainly productive in improving my quality of life. And that, my friend, is fundamental.
—
Do we want to talk about what’s happening in the US, or not?
At work, nobody talks about it—like nothing is happening. Meanwhile, on social media, I read horror stories. It almost feels like the world has gone numb, like what’s happening is too unbelievable to process.
What I see is this: someone is challenging all the shared beliefs we have.
A country exists because we all agree that it does. Just like money. We assign value to pieces of paper, and so they become valuable. We agree on what is lawful, what is right and wrong. And now, some people believe in a different reality. And what they’re doing is so chaotic that our current systems can’t even manage it.
Sometimes I think about the fragility of our systems, how they rely on people’s goodwill to follow the rules. Sometimes I think about how easy it would be to create chaos in my neighborhood—just by snipping the internet cables sprouting from the buildings’ walls. A clean, quick snip. Suddenly, no more TV, no more internet.
You know what? That might actually be a great service.
Maybe all the neighbors would walk outside and talk to each other. Maybe they’d gather at the one house with working WiFi to watch the latest episode of The US: Season 47.
But we don’t do it. Because we’re told not to snip cables.
Meanwhile, people do steal phones and bikes in broad daylight—because they need money. But I don’t need money. I need human connection.
So maybe my subtle, effective gesture would be snip, snip, snip. And I might even order a bunch of pizzas in anticipation of our community gathering.
The gathering of the internet refugees.
Snip, snip, snip.
—
It’s special, really, to live in such a fragile system.
What’s happening right now is an invitation to check in with your own beliefs and revisit what might no longer be true.
You thought global leaders of so-called developed countries would condemn genocide and crimes against humanity. Like decent human beings. But no.
You thought your government would do everything possible to protect its people from poverty, illness and injustice. But no. In fact, it’s designed to perpetuate inequality.
It’s a bizarre way of living. But because everybody agrees to it—or at least, most people do—it persists.
Those who rebel against the violence of the system are called violent.
Those who develop mental health struggles from this system are marginalized and labeled sick.
Maybe when the system started, it came from a good place. But over time—just like in the organization I work for—everybody added their own ideas, layering complexity upon complexity, sometimes even conflicting interests.
“Your mental health matters to us.”
And instead of tackling the root causes of suffering, the responsibility is placed on the individual to “work on themselves.” To take care of their own resilience.
So we’re left with wellness programs that only reinforce self-loathing, convincing people that they are the problem. That they are broken.
—
Anyway.
I’ve digressed.
Time to eat my rescued sandwich from Paul, the French bakery chain.
And my cat is asking for attention.
So there we go. Enough for now.
Keep shining, we need it more than ever. Do what brings you joy, and extend your hand to a stranger for a dance.
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