This has haunted me since I can remember my first interactions with other kids. "Hey, Kuba!" They'd call me. My last name was Kubeeva and my nickname somehow became the synonym for Cuba. I would look up from whatever it was I was doing and wonder what I missed. Often some mischief would've happen already, like my school bag would be stolen or, in one particular case, a group of girls told me to hide and wait for them, while they took off. I'd be so far gone into my head that to dismay of my petty tormentors I didn't even understand that they were making fun of me or hoped to somehow wreck my day. Which, of course, irritated them even more. Most of my memories consist of bewilderment. Something would happen and I would miss it. Often something important.
I thought now that I'm an adult, I'm over this. Not so.Read More