Finding happiness right under your nose.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Another tune for the weekend.
(Every so often, I hear a song that just won't leave my head. Mostly they are extremely bad songs and I spend hours of distress wondering why it chose my head to do its camping. But occasionally it is something really nice. And a nice tune in my head is an all round good day!! So, I dedicate this particular tune to all my peoples on my "Wanted" list. If you don't know yourselves. It's alright. I know you)
THE MAN WHO CAN'T BE MOVED
Going back to the corner where I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move
Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand
Saying if you see this girl can you tell her where I am
Some try to hand me money, they don't understand
I'm not broke I'm just a broken hearted man
I know it makes no sense, but what else can I do
How can I move on when I've been in love with you
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
And you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
So I'm not moving
I'm not moving
Policeman says son you can't stay here
I said there's someone I'm waiting for if it's a day, a month, a year
Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows
If she changes her mind this is the first place she will go
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
And you see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
So I'm not moving
I'm not moving
I'm not moving
I'm not moving
People talk about the guy
Who's waiting on a girl, oh whoa
There are no holes in his shoes
But a big hole in his world
Maybe I'll get famous as the man who can't be moved
And maybe you won't mean to but you'll see me on the news
And you'll come running to the corner
'Cause you'll know it's just for you
I'm the man who can't be moved
I'm the man who can't be moved
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we meet
Oh, you see me waiting for you on a corner of the street
So I'm not moving
('Cause if one day you wake up, find that you're missing me)
I'm not moving
(And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be)
I'm not moving
(Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet)
I'm not moving
(Oh, you see me waiting for you on a corner of the street)
Going back to the corner where I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move
THE MAN WHO CAN'T BE MOVED
Going back to the corner where I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move
Got some words on cardboard, got your picture in my hand
Saying if you see this girl can you tell her where I am
Some try to hand me money, they don't understand
I'm not broke I'm just a broken hearted man
I know it makes no sense, but what else can I do
How can I move on when I've been in love with you
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
And you'd see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
So I'm not moving
I'm not moving
Policeman says son you can't stay here
I said there's someone I'm waiting for if it's a day, a month, a year
Gotta stand my ground even if it rains or snows
If she changes her mind this is the first place she will go
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
And you see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
So I'm not moving
I'm not moving
I'm not moving
I'm not moving
People talk about the guy
Who's waiting on a girl, oh whoa
There are no holes in his shoes
But a big hole in his world
Maybe I'll get famous as the man who can't be moved
And maybe you won't mean to but you'll see me on the news
And you'll come running to the corner
'Cause you'll know it's just for you
I'm the man who can't be moved
I'm the man who can't be moved
'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be
Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we meet
Oh, you see me waiting for you on a corner of the street
So I'm not moving
('Cause if one day you wake up, find that you're missing me)
I'm not moving
(And your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be)
I'm not moving
(Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet)
I'm not moving
(Oh, you see me waiting for you on a corner of the street)
Going back to the corner where I first saw you
Gonna camp in my sleeping bag, I'm not gonna move
Monday, October 25, 2010
My healthy fear of grasshopper
I never thought I'd make a good mother. Or even make a mother at all. I always pictured myself having a brood of children but in my dysfunctional mind, that never translated to motherhood. It always felt like it would be like raising other people's kids during the evening and then give them back to their true owners on weekends.
You can tell women who don't think much about the joys of mother hood. They don't fascinate over pregnant women, they hold babies at a respectable distance and try to talk to them like adults (and then wonder why they are not getting a response), they don't understand diapers and sometimes eat the baby's food. AND have a healthy and shameless fear of anyone under 4 feet.
I was that woman until 1 year, 5 months and 21 days ago, to the date, my brother thrust into our lives a small bundle of joy and then some (grasshopper!). He is definitely a bundle of laughs and we celebrate every new achievement like he just reinvented the wheel. Like yesterday, he climbed the stairs all by himself and we discussed it for 45 good minutes. Picture 5 grown individuals standing around the staircase talking and clapping to a 2 feet tall child. Embarrassing. But we were so proud.
So, anyway, after a rather busy Sato running around town, I came home to find grasshopper by himself (ok! my mother was doing something or other and my father was napping on the couch)There began the true test of my maternal instincts and clearly I was not ready for the challenge. It was cute when he reached for my hand the minute I walked in and had to go with him to my room so that I could change. What was not so cute was when he followed me to the bathroom to watch me change.
We watched a bit of TV while he went ahead to destroy and re-arrange my room. Everything that was within reach was moved to its "proper" place. After a few minutes of this behavior, he decided it was time to eat. It was like feeding a moving target. No. Let me rephrase. I was feeding a moving target. Grasshopper just started walking stably recently and so his most exciting activity is to walk really fast everywhere. He's also a very curious little person so he enters everything, sits on everything and then 2 seconds later dashes off to discover something else to enter and sit on. At one point, I was feeding him inside the fireplace where he was humming and swinging his legs. It's not so uncomfortable.....if you are anything under 3 feet tall.
Then came the fun part. Cooking. No one ever mentions cooking with a child is such a challenging experience. Since he couldn't reach the table, he decided to get me my "supplies". He brought me at least 15 tomatoes, a bunch of onions which he fist played football with (Go Sofapaka!!!!) and a truck load of potatoes. Unfortunately, since they are all round, some of them were thrown at me like balls and ended up bruising my sides but on his calmer moments, he placed them gently on the table and went to fetch more. Every so often he waited quietly waited to be told "good boy" before he went off for the next one. At some point, he did throw my onions in the dustbin and I ended up rummaging through the bin like a hobo. It was probably the best meal I have ever made. But also the most tiring.
After that, was the most distressing part of my evening. Changing of the diaper. Did I mention, grasshopper is a moving target? So he was not going to sit still while I discovered this un-chattered territory. I have never in my life changed a diaper so after pegging my nose sufficiently, I removed his dirty poopy diaper and then stared strangely at the brand new clean one. Now, cleaning a dirty bum is a very, very strange affair. (They should really teach some of these things in school.) All the while, I was holding him down so that he doesn't run out to my father naked.
After a not-so-disastrous change, we decided to eat again (kids eat ALOT!). It was another session of target practice and eating inside cupboards and on staircase steps and by the dustbin (he liked the dustbin area. I don't know why!!). An hour later, the food was done and he was seated on the kitchen floor drinking his milk (the only thing he sits down for). That gave us all enough time to eat like adults. I was pale and tattered and smelled like him. So much for perfume and body spray. Now I understood why all mothers smell of cerelac and milk.
Eventually, I decided for him, it was time for sleep and made an attempt of changing him into his sleeping one-sies. (I should get a pair.They look so comfortable). You would be amazed how many layers of clothes children have on. After like 15 layers of clothes, I finally got him to the bare minimum, dressed him up in what looked like his warmest clothes he had and put him into bed. I thought he'd stare at the ceiling for a few minutes like a normal person and then drift off in deep thought. Well, grasshopper is not a normal person, he is a child. He waved goodbye to me, told me ok!(one of the few words that we both understand) and then calmly closed his eyes. Two minutes into washing dishes, he was trying to squeeze himself in between my legs in the kitchen. So much for waving goodbye. When that became abit impossible, he moved on to rearranging the tomatoes and inspecting the dustbin.
Motherhood is hard. I only did it for 6 hours (yes, I counted. I was soooo tired, I had to count) but I had a renewed respect for every woman out there with the guts to bring a grasshopper into this world.
You want to know the highlight of my adventure though? It was when he hit his finger on a drawer and screamt like a banshee. Of course, Aunthy Mimo to the rescue. A few seconds later, he calmed down and then rubbed my shoulder soothingly and told me "shhhhh!shhhhhh!". It was such a precious moment.
I still have a relatively difficult time relating to people who don't understand English and can fit into kitchen cupboards and car dashboards but I am now confident, I'll love my own kids and should motherhood come knocking upon my scared womb, I'll just make sure I earn to hire someone to do the diaper change. I think I can squeeze myself into the fireplace if need be.
You can tell women who don't think much about the joys of mother hood. They don't fascinate over pregnant women, they hold babies at a respectable distance and try to talk to them like adults (and then wonder why they are not getting a response), they don't understand diapers and sometimes eat the baby's food. AND have a healthy and shameless fear of anyone under 4 feet.
I was that woman until 1 year, 5 months and 21 days ago, to the date, my brother thrust into our lives a small bundle of joy and then some (grasshopper!). He is definitely a bundle of laughs and we celebrate every new achievement like he just reinvented the wheel. Like yesterday, he climbed the stairs all by himself and we discussed it for 45 good minutes. Picture 5 grown individuals standing around the staircase talking and clapping to a 2 feet tall child. Embarrassing. But we were so proud.
So, anyway, after a rather busy Sato running around town, I came home to find grasshopper by himself (ok! my mother was doing something or other and my father was napping on the couch)There began the true test of my maternal instincts and clearly I was not ready for the challenge. It was cute when he reached for my hand the minute I walked in and had to go with him to my room so that I could change. What was not so cute was when he followed me to the bathroom to watch me change.
We watched a bit of TV while he went ahead to destroy and re-arrange my room. Everything that was within reach was moved to its "proper" place. After a few minutes of this behavior, he decided it was time to eat. It was like feeding a moving target. No. Let me rephrase. I was feeding a moving target. Grasshopper just started walking stably recently and so his most exciting activity is to walk really fast everywhere. He's also a very curious little person so he enters everything, sits on everything and then 2 seconds later dashes off to discover something else to enter and sit on. At one point, I was feeding him inside the fireplace where he was humming and swinging his legs. It's not so uncomfortable.....if you are anything under 3 feet tall.
Then came the fun part. Cooking. No one ever mentions cooking with a child is such a challenging experience. Since he couldn't reach the table, he decided to get me my "supplies". He brought me at least 15 tomatoes, a bunch of onions which he fist played football with (Go Sofapaka!!!!) and a truck load of potatoes. Unfortunately, since they are all round, some of them were thrown at me like balls and ended up bruising my sides but on his calmer moments, he placed them gently on the table and went to fetch more. Every so often he waited quietly waited to be told "good boy" before he went off for the next one. At some point, he did throw my onions in the dustbin and I ended up rummaging through the bin like a hobo. It was probably the best meal I have ever made. But also the most tiring.
After that, was the most distressing part of my evening. Changing of the diaper. Did I mention, grasshopper is a moving target? So he was not going to sit still while I discovered this un-chattered territory. I have never in my life changed a diaper so after pegging my nose sufficiently, I removed his dirty poopy diaper and then stared strangely at the brand new clean one. Now, cleaning a dirty bum is a very, very strange affair. (They should really teach some of these things in school.) All the while, I was holding him down so that he doesn't run out to my father naked.
After a not-so-disastrous change, we decided to eat again (kids eat ALOT!). It was another session of target practice and eating inside cupboards and on staircase steps and by the dustbin (he liked the dustbin area. I don't know why!!). An hour later, the food was done and he was seated on the kitchen floor drinking his milk (the only thing he sits down for). That gave us all enough time to eat like adults. I was pale and tattered and smelled like him. So much for perfume and body spray. Now I understood why all mothers smell of cerelac and milk.
Eventually, I decided for him, it was time for sleep and made an attempt of changing him into his sleeping one-sies. (I should get a pair.They look so comfortable). You would be amazed how many layers of clothes children have on. After like 15 layers of clothes, I finally got him to the bare minimum, dressed him up in what looked like his warmest clothes he had and put him into bed. I thought he'd stare at the ceiling for a few minutes like a normal person and then drift off in deep thought. Well, grasshopper is not a normal person, he is a child. He waved goodbye to me, told me ok!(one of the few words that we both understand) and then calmly closed his eyes. Two minutes into washing dishes, he was trying to squeeze himself in between my legs in the kitchen. So much for waving goodbye. When that became abit impossible, he moved on to rearranging the tomatoes and inspecting the dustbin.
Motherhood is hard. I only did it for 6 hours (yes, I counted. I was soooo tired, I had to count) but I had a renewed respect for every woman out there with the guts to bring a grasshopper into this world.
You want to know the highlight of my adventure though? It was when he hit his finger on a drawer and screamt like a banshee. Of course, Aunthy Mimo to the rescue. A few seconds later, he calmed down and then rubbed my shoulder soothingly and told me "shhhhh!shhhhhh!". It was such a precious moment.
I still have a relatively difficult time relating to people who don't understand English and can fit into kitchen cupboards and car dashboards but I am now confident, I'll love my own kids and should motherhood come knocking upon my scared womb, I'll just make sure I earn to hire someone to do the diaper change. I think I can squeeze myself into the fireplace if need be.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Memories and new beginnings.
I was asked what I would save if my house ever burnt down.
That is a very loaded question because for me and my family, it is not just a tragic possibility, it was an actual tragedy. We were barely tots, cubs, kids. If you saw us now, you'd never think we were once a bunch of happy, dirty children with no inclination to vodka and "soft" drugs. (Vodka is a family inclination. We don't fight it. In fact we embrace it a bit too enthusiastically. We are closet Russians) That was when our house was razed to the ground by electricity. Before we were damaged by the world. That is why I don't habour kind feeling towards our national power providers.
So when the question came up, I had absolutely no idea what to say. I wasn't bitter or sad or even anything. The memory was like it happened to someone else a million years ago. Almost like something I watched on TV. I shrugged. We tried to save everything we could. We tried to save anything we could. You realise that some things do tend to change you for life. We don't talk about it. It never comes up in any kind of conversation. Some things are just never interesting anecdotes or ice breakers. When we talk about the past, we talk of everything else but that.
The changes were much deeper than I realised. I hardly ever leave lights on, any kind of spark sends me into a panic, I notice electricity meters inside people's houses and if I hear there's a fire that's broken out at the transformer, I hover out doors until I am sure the problem has been fixed. But not once do I carry anything out with me. Probably my phone and a book but never photos and shoes or my bed.
Strangely enough, when the house burnt down, we saved most of the photos, the curtains and my kid brother(our most important family belonging). Thanks to friendly neighbours. But something was lost in all of us that day. Life as we knew it changed. The fact that we don't talk about it at all. That changed. You can see a distinct difference between the "before" and "after" photos. The smiles were fewer. The dirt was less. Even the photos were fewer. Everything changed. And yet nothing changed. The world continued rotating around its axis. Everyone else was doing what they always did.
There are events that define your true friends. That define your true self. This, was one of those events in my parents' lives. We were too young to lose any friends. Children are resilient like that but for adults, things are a bit more complicated. When someone goes through tragedy, you generally sit around tweedling your thumbs because you have no idea what to do or say to make it better. That's how you lose friends. That's how they lost friends. But the ones that stayed, seem to have stayed forever.
That day is vivid in my mind like it happened yesterday. Unfortunately when I remember my childhood, that is what I remember. I remember the porridge, the construction workers, the clothes on the line, the clothes on my body, the weather, what time everyone reached.Amazingly I remember even specific times. Of course being the dramatic person I am, my memory is always in slow motion with background music, which made the memory more bearable with time.
But I guess if there is anything I learnt from that,it is that if I was to save anything, it's not the photos or the books or the curtains. I'd save the memories. Nothing but the memories. We can always recover the rest of the stuff. But once a memory is gone, nothing could ever bring it back. I never knew that then making that my earliest childhood memory.
But life has to move on and it did. We rebuilt, we rediscovered, we recovered, we hid and we came back. And life beyond the fence didn't stop moving.People still went to work and to school and to church. We still had to go to school and to work and to church. We still had to say hi and bye. We still had to eat, breath and sleep. Life was a new beginning every day. Regardless of the circumstances. Regardless of the tragedy. Dwelling on the past might have just hindered great things ahead.
The fire almost crushed my parents. There was a lot else going on and the fire wasn't out there making life easier. But from where I sit now; Maybe that fire was just out to make way for bigger and better things. I don't know, but I have to believe that fire had a purpose. I have to. The fire of new beginnings and old endings.
That is a very loaded question because for me and my family, it is not just a tragic possibility, it was an actual tragedy. We were barely tots, cubs, kids. If you saw us now, you'd never think we were once a bunch of happy, dirty children with no inclination to vodka and "soft" drugs. (Vodka is a family inclination. We don't fight it. In fact we embrace it a bit too enthusiastically. We are closet Russians) That was when our house was razed to the ground by electricity. Before we were damaged by the world. That is why I don't habour kind feeling towards our national power providers.
So when the question came up, I had absolutely no idea what to say. I wasn't bitter or sad or even anything. The memory was like it happened to someone else a million years ago. Almost like something I watched on TV. I shrugged. We tried to save everything we could. We tried to save anything we could. You realise that some things do tend to change you for life. We don't talk about it. It never comes up in any kind of conversation. Some things are just never interesting anecdotes or ice breakers. When we talk about the past, we talk of everything else but that.
The changes were much deeper than I realised. I hardly ever leave lights on, any kind of spark sends me into a panic, I notice electricity meters inside people's houses and if I hear there's a fire that's broken out at the transformer, I hover out doors until I am sure the problem has been fixed. But not once do I carry anything out with me. Probably my phone and a book but never photos and shoes or my bed.
Strangely enough, when the house burnt down, we saved most of the photos, the curtains and my kid brother(our most important family belonging). Thanks to friendly neighbours. But something was lost in all of us that day. Life as we knew it changed. The fact that we don't talk about it at all. That changed. You can see a distinct difference between the "before" and "after" photos. The smiles were fewer. The dirt was less. Even the photos were fewer. Everything changed. And yet nothing changed. The world continued rotating around its axis. Everyone else was doing what they always did.
There are events that define your true friends. That define your true self. This, was one of those events in my parents' lives. We were too young to lose any friends. Children are resilient like that but for adults, things are a bit more complicated. When someone goes through tragedy, you generally sit around tweedling your thumbs because you have no idea what to do or say to make it better. That's how you lose friends. That's how they lost friends. But the ones that stayed, seem to have stayed forever.
That day is vivid in my mind like it happened yesterday. Unfortunately when I remember my childhood, that is what I remember. I remember the porridge, the construction workers, the clothes on the line, the clothes on my body, the weather, what time everyone reached.Amazingly I remember even specific times. Of course being the dramatic person I am, my memory is always in slow motion with background music, which made the memory more bearable with time.
But I guess if there is anything I learnt from that,it is that if I was to save anything, it's not the photos or the books or the curtains. I'd save the memories. Nothing but the memories. We can always recover the rest of the stuff. But once a memory is gone, nothing could ever bring it back. I never knew that then making that my earliest childhood memory.
But life has to move on and it did. We rebuilt, we rediscovered, we recovered, we hid and we came back. And life beyond the fence didn't stop moving.People still went to work and to school and to church. We still had to go to school and to work and to church. We still had to say hi and bye. We still had to eat, breath and sleep. Life was a new beginning every day. Regardless of the circumstances. Regardless of the tragedy. Dwelling on the past might have just hindered great things ahead.
The fire almost crushed my parents. There was a lot else going on and the fire wasn't out there making life easier. But from where I sit now; Maybe that fire was just out to make way for bigger and better things. I don't know, but I have to believe that fire had a purpose. I have to. The fire of new beginnings and old endings.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
You're all I want................
That was what I was thinking all through church on Sunday.
Ladies don't get too excited....It's not a man. And men, well, get excited if you want but no, it is not a woman. It was just a thought that lingered for longer than normal. Important thoughts should linger for a long time so when it lingered for more than its 12 required seconds, I knew that this was probably a thought worth dwelling on.
I am a picky person. I usually know exactly what I'm looking for and if I can't find it, I'd prefer to stay without it. I'm not unreasonable or unmoving, I'm just picky. I'm picky on everything from house to car to clothes to people to job. Everything, even the small spoon I stir my tea with. The only thing I'm not picky about is the clothes I wear to the office. I think I pay more attention to the clothes I wear in the house on a lose Saturday than what I wear to the office on a daily basis (especially on days before public holidays and any other day I'm not meeting up with a client).
I decided to do a simple exercise on Sunday. I didn't end up doing it. A long Saturday poured into a longer Sunday and life overtook my good intentions. I was going to take a piece of paper and a pen (I suggest you try it. I think it would be very refreshing),with tea on one side, fries on the other and soft rock playing in the background. I had decided to write of all the things and people that I want. All.And yes, people. Everything I'd still want if all is said and done and all that was left was just me and that piece of paper. If I went to jail forever or got lost in a desert, what would I want to have achieved or gotten or eaten.Who would I have I have wanted to meet or just literally rub shoulders with? You'd be amazed how many hidden desires you have that you never gave the time of day.
So after writing down all the things, I was going to divide them to the things that I really need and desire on my want list. Nothing to be ashamed about. If it's a soda and bread at Uhuru Park that I need for myself then so be it. Out of that, I was going to shortlist it to time-lines and achievability. I may need to discover the cure for Ebola but it is a bit ambitious of me. Don't you think? And there will lie my present day "bucket list". Specific, precise and realistic. Easier said than done my good people. Easier said than done.
I already have parts of the list in my head with general time lines. The whens and wheres are more or less set in my mind. Whether I think I will achieve them or not is a tale for another day. The reason I haven't sat down and written it yet however is quite simple. The people. I had the main people already set.The close family and friends who've shaped my everyday life. The ones who will never leave. Mainly because the world will frown upon them for moral reasons. But there are the minor people I would never admit I need. It is even harder to admit to a piece of paper that may some day fall into the wrong hands and cause me endless embarrassment. People who've impacted me so much, I am shocked I don't have a physical dent to show for it. People who will never and should probably never know.
I know when I start writing it down (I'll probably do it deep into the night just to make absolutely sure I am alone) there'll be no turning back. This is pretty much laying myself bare......to myself. I have been amazed even as I slowly build up the list in my mind, how much I fear my own desires. After I get over the obvious things. The cars, the lands, the jobs....I'll have little choice but to write of the things that really matter. The people, the emotions and the desires. The ones that I will probably fail. The people I am most likely to disappoint and lose. The dreams that may probably crush me. Those things that will leave me so vulnerable, it'll be do or die.
When all is said I think it is important for me to know what I truly want. Mostly because I do not want to shock myself with my own revelations during a moment of delirium from a bad flu. Or when we are up on that mountain and I have been hit by a bout of Altitude Sickness.
Although right now what I really really want is a big breakfast. I love breakfast food. I would eat it 3 times a day if it wasn't so damn expensive. BEST (For the layman, Bacon, Eggs, Sausages and Toast), Pancakes with Syrup, Orange Juice and a Mocha or Yorghurt. Probably throw in some mashed potatoes with cream for the bacon. Don't judge me. It's because I haven't had breakfast in so long, I'm beginning to forget what it feels like to eat before noon. (I told you, the things that I truly desire will shock me)
Ladies don't get too excited....It's not a man. And men, well, get excited if you want but no, it is not a woman. It was just a thought that lingered for longer than normal. Important thoughts should linger for a long time so when it lingered for more than its 12 required seconds, I knew that this was probably a thought worth dwelling on.
I am a picky person. I usually know exactly what I'm looking for and if I can't find it, I'd prefer to stay without it. I'm not unreasonable or unmoving, I'm just picky. I'm picky on everything from house to car to clothes to people to job. Everything, even the small spoon I stir my tea with. The only thing I'm not picky about is the clothes I wear to the office. I think I pay more attention to the clothes I wear in the house on a lose Saturday than what I wear to the office on a daily basis (especially on days before public holidays and any other day I'm not meeting up with a client).
I decided to do a simple exercise on Sunday. I didn't end up doing it. A long Saturday poured into a longer Sunday and life overtook my good intentions. I was going to take a piece of paper and a pen (I suggest you try it. I think it would be very refreshing),with tea on one side, fries on the other and soft rock playing in the background. I had decided to write of all the things and people that I want. All.And yes, people. Everything I'd still want if all is said and done and all that was left was just me and that piece of paper. If I went to jail forever or got lost in a desert, what would I want to have achieved or gotten or eaten.Who would I have I have wanted to meet or just literally rub shoulders with? You'd be amazed how many hidden desires you have that you never gave the time of day.
So after writing down all the things, I was going to divide them to the things that I really need and desire on my want list. Nothing to be ashamed about. If it's a soda and bread at Uhuru Park that I need for myself then so be it. Out of that, I was going to shortlist it to time-lines and achievability. I may need to discover the cure for Ebola but it is a bit ambitious of me. Don't you think? And there will lie my present day "bucket list". Specific, precise and realistic. Easier said than done my good people. Easier said than done.
I already have parts of the list in my head with general time lines. The whens and wheres are more or less set in my mind. Whether I think I will achieve them or not is a tale for another day. The reason I haven't sat down and written it yet however is quite simple. The people. I had the main people already set.The close family and friends who've shaped my everyday life. The ones who will never leave. Mainly because the world will frown upon them for moral reasons. But there are the minor people I would never admit I need. It is even harder to admit to a piece of paper that may some day fall into the wrong hands and cause me endless embarrassment. People who've impacted me so much, I am shocked I don't have a physical dent to show for it. People who will never and should probably never know.
I know when I start writing it down (I'll probably do it deep into the night just to make absolutely sure I am alone) there'll be no turning back. This is pretty much laying myself bare......to myself. I have been amazed even as I slowly build up the list in my mind, how much I fear my own desires. After I get over the obvious things. The cars, the lands, the jobs....I'll have little choice but to write of the things that really matter. The people, the emotions and the desires. The ones that I will probably fail. The people I am most likely to disappoint and lose. The dreams that may probably crush me. Those things that will leave me so vulnerable, it'll be do or die.
When all is said I think it is important for me to know what I truly want. Mostly because I do not want to shock myself with my own revelations during a moment of delirium from a bad flu. Or when we are up on that mountain and I have been hit by a bout of Altitude Sickness.
Although right now what I really really want is a big breakfast. I love breakfast food. I would eat it 3 times a day if it wasn't so damn expensive. BEST (For the layman, Bacon, Eggs, Sausages and Toast), Pancakes with Syrup, Orange Juice and a Mocha or Yorghurt. Probably throw in some mashed potatoes with cream for the bacon. Don't judge me. It's because I haven't had breakfast in so long, I'm beginning to forget what it feels like to eat before noon. (I told you, the things that I truly desire will shock me)
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
A day of LOL's and purple couples
It started of as a decent enough Sunday. If I have never said I like my Sundays I am saying it now. I don't know why I had to accept a lunch date. I prefer all my activity squeezed in Monday to Saturday. Sunday is a day to contemplate, praise the Lord and nap but I hadn't been on a date with a person I didn't know in a such a long time. If I told you in how long it had been, there would be an intervention of sorts from close family and friends.
So I was curious. I wanted to know what has changed since I had been away from the "dating scene". I wasn't particularly excited. In fact I wasn't excited at all. You see when this particular person first texted me, he wrote(and I kid you not!) "LOL :)". Now, I have a hard time understanding those things on chat. To see them on my phone felt like a personal assault. So personal that I showed my brother and we had a good chuckle about it. I am not a mean person but I couldn't understand a grown person writing that without feeling slightly embarrassed.
So eventually after weeks of dodging LOL, we decided a Sunday was a good day to meet. My sacred Sunday. I was going to meet him during my nap time. Which is usually the time between church and an early supper. I didn't dress like I was going on a date. Nowadays every time my mother sees me in a dress, I get the feeling she holds herself back from following me and forcing me into marriage. I get why she worries so I'm trying not to put her hopes up. So off I went to meet this person who wrote acronyms in his text.
I was late. No fault of mine. I am generally always late for a lot of things. He looked pissed. I didn't care too much for his attitude. People who don't use vowels in their texts don't get to have a say in my life. I am a grown woman people. I don't like encrypting texts anymore. There were no hugs at the beginning, no signature "heeeeeeyyyy" when I walked in. I smiled and sat and waited for fate to take over.
We stared at the menu for what looked like 20 days give or take a few minutes. He didn't say a single word. Not about the food, not about the weather or the strange woman with the strange pink hair seated on the next table. Finally LOL asked about what I do. I told him and asked what he did. That was the last that I spoke. He talked about his job. He talked about his campus life, he talked about everything and I felt like every time I said something, he never heard me. He just continued on about whatever he was saying. Like my voice was too low. I wanted to shout so that I could be heard. I think I'm somewhat of an interesting person. At least I always thought so.
Somewhere in between listening to rendering cartoons and the pool game in which LOL won 4000 bob (that was an interesting story by the way), I saw them. The purple couple. She had a purple dress on and he had a matching purple shirt. He was pushing the shopping cart and she was talking animatedly and pointing. On any other day, I would have giggled and wondered what manner of cheesy people they were. I knew them so I knew what manner of cheesy people they were (they were very cheesy people.The kind that make you think dressing alike was cool). On Sunday, I wanted to be the purple couple. I wanted to run home and tell someone about this ridiculous date I was on and laugh at the cartoons LOL drew and take my long awaited nap. I wanted my own purple dress with a purple shirt to match.
I had been in relationships before but I don't think I had ever been a real part of a couple before. My relationships tended to end the way they began. Like we were at a bus station just bidding our time until one of us left on the next bus. I really did not want LOL to be at my bus stop. I wanted him to leave me alone with my book and my milk shake and my chicken strips. I wanted him to go to the next table and tell the girl with the pink hair his stories. As I watched the purple couple load up their car, suddenly, wearing matching clothes made sense and shopping as a Sunday afternoon activity stopped being so random in my head.
The purple couple drove off. I finished eating. He's a tipper, that was a good sign. I waved goodbye and went home. I can't tell you much about my Sunday afternoon date. He did text later with more LOL's and I made an effort to wake up and watch his show (the cartoon he draws!) but all I could remember was the purple couple. Like I was in a black and white movie and they were the only ones in colour.
That evening I thought about my transition from LOL to matching purple outfits. So maybe I have changed in the time I have been away. Maybe I don't think that not making my bed and napping all of Sunday is a superb way to spend my Sunday any more. So maybe its time I got back on the dating bandwagon and see whether eventually I will transition to those ridiculous matching outfits. Then I can tell my purple shirt about the ridiculous date I just had with a cartoonist.
So I was curious. I wanted to know what has changed since I had been away from the "dating scene". I wasn't particularly excited. In fact I wasn't excited at all. You see when this particular person first texted me, he wrote(and I kid you not!) "LOL :)". Now, I have a hard time understanding those things on chat. To see them on my phone felt like a personal assault. So personal that I showed my brother and we had a good chuckle about it. I am not a mean person but I couldn't understand a grown person writing that without feeling slightly embarrassed.
So eventually after weeks of dodging LOL, we decided a Sunday was a good day to meet. My sacred Sunday. I was going to meet him during my nap time. Which is usually the time between church and an early supper. I didn't dress like I was going on a date. Nowadays every time my mother sees me in a dress, I get the feeling she holds herself back from following me and forcing me into marriage. I get why she worries so I'm trying not to put her hopes up. So off I went to meet this person who wrote acronyms in his text.
I was late. No fault of mine. I am generally always late for a lot of things. He looked pissed. I didn't care too much for his attitude. People who don't use vowels in their texts don't get to have a say in my life. I am a grown woman people. I don't like encrypting texts anymore. There were no hugs at the beginning, no signature "heeeeeeyyyy" when I walked in. I smiled and sat and waited for fate to take over.
We stared at the menu for what looked like 20 days give or take a few minutes. He didn't say a single word. Not about the food, not about the weather or the strange woman with the strange pink hair seated on the next table. Finally LOL asked about what I do. I told him and asked what he did. That was the last that I spoke. He talked about his job. He talked about his campus life, he talked about everything and I felt like every time I said something, he never heard me. He just continued on about whatever he was saying. Like my voice was too low. I wanted to shout so that I could be heard. I think I'm somewhat of an interesting person. At least I always thought so.
Somewhere in between listening to rendering cartoons and the pool game in which LOL won 4000 bob (that was an interesting story by the way), I saw them. The purple couple. She had a purple dress on and he had a matching purple shirt. He was pushing the shopping cart and she was talking animatedly and pointing. On any other day, I would have giggled and wondered what manner of cheesy people they were. I knew them so I knew what manner of cheesy people they were (they were very cheesy people.The kind that make you think dressing alike was cool). On Sunday, I wanted to be the purple couple. I wanted to run home and tell someone about this ridiculous date I was on and laugh at the cartoons LOL drew and take my long awaited nap. I wanted my own purple dress with a purple shirt to match.
I had been in relationships before but I don't think I had ever been a real part of a couple before. My relationships tended to end the way they began. Like we were at a bus station just bidding our time until one of us left on the next bus. I really did not want LOL to be at my bus stop. I wanted him to leave me alone with my book and my milk shake and my chicken strips. I wanted him to go to the next table and tell the girl with the pink hair his stories. As I watched the purple couple load up their car, suddenly, wearing matching clothes made sense and shopping as a Sunday afternoon activity stopped being so random in my head.
The purple couple drove off. I finished eating. He's a tipper, that was a good sign. I waved goodbye and went home. I can't tell you much about my Sunday afternoon date. He did text later with more LOL's and I made an effort to wake up and watch his show (the cartoon he draws!) but all I could remember was the purple couple. Like I was in a black and white movie and they were the only ones in colour.
That evening I thought about my transition from LOL to matching purple outfits. So maybe I have changed in the time I have been away. Maybe I don't think that not making my bed and napping all of Sunday is a superb way to spend my Sunday any more. So maybe its time I got back on the dating bandwagon and see whether eventually I will transition to those ridiculous matching outfits. Then I can tell my purple shirt about the ridiculous date I just had with a cartoonist.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Friday, October 8, 2010
Hope for the Hopeless
Have you ever met someone who made you feel insignificant? Not in the kind of way that makes you wish them dead but in the way that makes you wonder "And what great thing have I done lately?"
I met a couple yesterday evening. When I decided to meet them I was quite skeptical. I had a rough idea as to what they wanted from me. After all, when we exchanged cards I knew exactly what I was offering and ho it connected with what they were asking for. When I first decided to meet them, it was more for the feel good feeling. Personally, I thought we'd exchange cards, get a pat on the back for making a first step and then never see them again. They called the very next day.
So after a few false starts towards a meeting, yesterday we finally arranged a first meeting. I just wanted to get a feel of what they do and what they were about. My understanding of NGO's, the UN included is an organisation that collects 100% of the money needed, spends 20% on the cause they are fighting for and accounts 80% to expenses. To say I have little regard for NGOs is to say too much.
So off on my high house I went and what I found out touched me unexpectedly.
This couple's overall vision is to re-connect street children back to their families and to counsel them to a point where the child is stable enough. They have been taking in children into their own home, rehabilitating them, tracing down their families, reconnecting them, following them up after the re-union for the past 11 years or so. What amazed me was the commitment and passion they have for these children. They did not start a home or a foundation or a world wide initiative. They just opened up their home, took in children and re-united them to their families and got them back to school.
So far, they have rehabilitated over 300 children in this way and have a full time staff of 15 or so people. Their out reach has gone as far as Western Kenya. They have in the process of their work, got other couples and families to take in children for a time and stabilize them to a point they can return back to their homes. They have gotten people to sponsor poor children through school to a point they can take care of themselves.
At any one time they have 2 children at their home and depending on the state of the children, they live with them for up to 2 years as their own. They are in no way adopting these children. In fact they told me they had never adopted a child. They already have 4 kids of their own and grandkids. So their calling to the world, is to get family units for the children they find. To give them hope and to show them that there is a future beyond the streets and crime.
Eventually through well-wishers and word of mouth, they have now been able to work with kids in government half way houses where they go counsel and do home schooling and help track down families and even just pray with them. The emotional strength of these people is unbelievable, their passion unquestionable and their desire to help....well, I have never seen it before.
After I met them, I actually felt irrelevant. Like I don't do enough. I don't put myself out there to help those around me. These 2 people left their careers and lives behind to touch children who thought they'd have careers or lives. They showed me for a glimpse of a moment that I have nothing to lose by letting go of myself. What have I done lately to change my community?
Nobel Prizes are being given out this week. But there are so many people out there who in their own small way are changing lives. Who are transforming society and communities. This couple hasn't just touched 300 children, it has touched 300 families and in turn, 300 communities. Not to mention, the rest of us random people who are watching from the sidelines.
From now on, I won't walk around judging NGO's harshly.At least not all of them. Well, some still need to be harshly rebuked but they are a few out there that are actually out to help those around them and achieving much more than we can believe or imagine.
If you would like to help or read more about them. Offer yourself in terms of skills, prayers, money, etc etc.,please visit their website:
http://www.kenyachildrenofhope.org/index.php
I met a couple yesterday evening. When I decided to meet them I was quite skeptical. I had a rough idea as to what they wanted from me. After all, when we exchanged cards I knew exactly what I was offering and ho it connected with what they were asking for. When I first decided to meet them, it was more for the feel good feeling. Personally, I thought we'd exchange cards, get a pat on the back for making a first step and then never see them again. They called the very next day.
So after a few false starts towards a meeting, yesterday we finally arranged a first meeting. I just wanted to get a feel of what they do and what they were about. My understanding of NGO's, the UN included is an organisation that collects 100% of the money needed, spends 20% on the cause they are fighting for and accounts 80% to expenses. To say I have little regard for NGOs is to say too much.
So off on my high house I went and what I found out touched me unexpectedly.
This couple's overall vision is to re-connect street children back to their families and to counsel them to a point where the child is stable enough. They have been taking in children into their own home, rehabilitating them, tracing down their families, reconnecting them, following them up after the re-union for the past 11 years or so. What amazed me was the commitment and passion they have for these children. They did not start a home or a foundation or a world wide initiative. They just opened up their home, took in children and re-united them to their families and got them back to school.
So far, they have rehabilitated over 300 children in this way and have a full time staff of 15 or so people. Their out reach has gone as far as Western Kenya. They have in the process of their work, got other couples and families to take in children for a time and stabilize them to a point they can return back to their homes. They have gotten people to sponsor poor children through school to a point they can take care of themselves.
At any one time they have 2 children at their home and depending on the state of the children, they live with them for up to 2 years as their own. They are in no way adopting these children. In fact they told me they had never adopted a child. They already have 4 kids of their own and grandkids. So their calling to the world, is to get family units for the children they find. To give them hope and to show them that there is a future beyond the streets and crime.
Eventually through well-wishers and word of mouth, they have now been able to work with kids in government half way houses where they go counsel and do home schooling and help track down families and even just pray with them. The emotional strength of these people is unbelievable, their passion unquestionable and their desire to help....well, I have never seen it before.
After I met them, I actually felt irrelevant. Like I don't do enough. I don't put myself out there to help those around me. These 2 people left their careers and lives behind to touch children who thought they'd have careers or lives. They showed me for a glimpse of a moment that I have nothing to lose by letting go of myself. What have I done lately to change my community?
Nobel Prizes are being given out this week. But there are so many people out there who in their own small way are changing lives. Who are transforming society and communities. This couple hasn't just touched 300 children, it has touched 300 families and in turn, 300 communities. Not to mention, the rest of us random people who are watching from the sidelines.
From now on, I won't walk around judging NGO's harshly.At least not all of them. Well, some still need to be harshly rebuked but they are a few out there that are actually out to help those around them and achieving much more than we can believe or imagine.
If you would like to help or read more about them. Offer yourself in terms of skills, prayers, money, etc etc.,please visit their website:
http://www.kenyachildrenofhope.org/index.php
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
The whys and wherefores of good girl-friending.
I hate feeling helpless but coming from the female gender kinda makes it inevitable. I guess the helplessness is what ultimately attracts men to us. The desire to protect and defend the hapless human who has the upper body strength of a twig in the desert. It's nice though. At least I can occasionally pick up the phone put on my sweetest voice and get something done or at least almost done to my liking. I prefer not to though.
Anyway, I have friends(female) who have the rare power of making men want to be better people. I call it a power because I don't have that rare ability. Almost like bending metal with just your mind. One moment a dude is running rogue and declaring eternal independence and 3 minutes after meeting, they are opening doors and arranging surprise birthday parties and organising trips for 2 to the coast. I think they are the female equivalent to Moses. Lead the enslaved male soul to Canaan where there'll be manna, sweet waters from a rock and succulent slabs of meat at your beck and call.
I did try to learn the tricks of this mysterious trade but I think I am to set in my ways to change now. Plus, you actually have to care to learn and when I start caring, I have a feeling I will eat my words in shame. I never used to understand how a woman could get a man to cook for her and drag his jalopy 100kms out of his way to pick her up because she is wearing heels. So I decided to do a silent study of my amazing friends to find out what they do right.
1)Miss Independent:
I have a strong independent streak as do all the women I know but what they have over me is they prefer to tone it down a notch. They don't change tyres, they let him drive them around, they pick up his dry cleaning and thought they are alpha dogs in the office, he straddles along and suddenly the bull dog turns into a chihuahua with a pink bow. Short of death, I really prefer him not to solve my problems for me.I don't like having to disturb a soccer game because the heels I knew were going to hurt my feet in the first place are hurting my feet. It makes me look needy and I'd rather not do needy. If you don't offer, I will not ask. When I ask for anything, I sound like I'm on the verge of begging and crying so far be it from me to beg.
2)I cook,clean and bend over:
With age I am starting to pick up on this concept.The cooking and cleaning one, not the bend over one. I am not the domesticated type. When I enter a house and find people in the kitchen, my first instinct is usually to sit down and put my feet up.I don't dislike cooking or cleaning but do I have to do it every day? I wish I could learn how to do this as much as I want learn how to ride a dirt bike. Some girls do this in their sleep and boy do I admire them. To naturally want to cook and look good while doing it....someday, my friends, someday!*sigh!
3)Princesses giggle, Pirates and retards guffaw:
I don't know whether it is just me or it is us girls who have been brought up with packs of boys, but giggling just does not come naturally to me. Girls giggle at jokes and cover their mouths and have little pretty laughs. I do not laugh much but when I do it is loud and bar-like. At least that's what I think it sounds like. Now the giggle is supposed to sound sexy and like everything he says is interesting. I cannot fake interest so I usually have this blank, annoyed look that just screams "go away before I hang you on a stake". I am learning the delicate art of giggling. Soon, I'll be a top notch giggler.
4)I will take care of you forever:
In my many years of hanging about the male gender, I have discovered that men take disease way way too seriously. e.g, every time my boss gets a cold, he comes dressed like he shall die and might want to be buried in the North Pole shortly there after. He lights his heater to full, shuts all his windows, calls for a humidifier and then orders chicken soup with every meal. And that is just the common cold. I don't want to belittle the misery and suffering that men experience but for a gender that thrives on contact sports, leaving you behind when you have the sniffles is not because I want to torture you. Another concept I find hard to understand....but like I said, this is a learning experience for me.
5)Of many skirts and trousers:
Girls wear skirts and boys wear trousers. I know the thighs look flattering, they define the figure, they make a girl look feminine and sexy and as a dude once put it very crudely to me one night "they make it easy to reach the ATM". Enter the tomboy and my list of excuses why I shall not wear that garment. Skirts are hard to walk around in, prove to be dangerous and difficult to use public transport and by no means make it easy to dance. Not to mention skirts call for accessorizing. I would honestly wear a skirt if I was given sufficient reason and occasionally I do throw on a pretty dress but that shall quickly be countered by months of jeans and work pants. Infact, a dude knows he has a tomboy under his spell if she willingly wears a dress when there's no occasion calling for it.
6)Just like my mama does it:
It is a well known fact that men eventually marry their mothers. My thinking:because of all the women in their lives, she is the one who stood by their nonsense, crap and misdemeanors. From jail break to making your favorite meal when you are sick with alcohol poisoning. So it is only natural to find someone who will put up with nonsense upon nonsense upon more nonsense. Well, since I like to think of myself as a rare and precious creature there can (at most) be only one,and I repeat,ONE other woman like me so her son has to really really look very hard for me.Sadly, I don't think he's looking in the right places. Oh, well. When you see him, give him my number.
7)Pride and prejudice:
I am proud and I judge. That is my biggest folly. Yes, I know my many faults but I shall only scare you with these two and I call the "follies" because they are cute instead of annoying. With my follies comes the stubbornness and stupidity of a mule. I am not proud of it, I'm just saying. Real women know how to put their pride aside for their men. A man is a proud creature and between him and his woman, it is easier for the woman to put her prejudices aside. It is a hard lesson to learn and every so often I learn it the hard and cruel way, promise to change and then go back to my deviant ways. This is perhaps the hardest lesson of all and that is why this is the first lesson I will learn.
Anyway, I have friends(female) who have the rare power of making men want to be better people. I call it a power because I don't have that rare ability. Almost like bending metal with just your mind. One moment a dude is running rogue and declaring eternal independence and 3 minutes after meeting, they are opening doors and arranging surprise birthday parties and organising trips for 2 to the coast. I think they are the female equivalent to Moses. Lead the enslaved male soul to Canaan where there'll be manna, sweet waters from a rock and succulent slabs of meat at your beck and call.
I did try to learn the tricks of this mysterious trade but I think I am to set in my ways to change now. Plus, you actually have to care to learn and when I start caring, I have a feeling I will eat my words in shame. I never used to understand how a woman could get a man to cook for her and drag his jalopy 100kms out of his way to pick her up because she is wearing heels. So I decided to do a silent study of my amazing friends to find out what they do right.
1)Miss Independent:
I have a strong independent streak as do all the women I know but what they have over me is they prefer to tone it down a notch. They don't change tyres, they let him drive them around, they pick up his dry cleaning and thought they are alpha dogs in the office, he straddles along and suddenly the bull dog turns into a chihuahua with a pink bow. Short of death, I really prefer him not to solve my problems for me.I don't like having to disturb a soccer game because the heels I knew were going to hurt my feet in the first place are hurting my feet. It makes me look needy and I'd rather not do needy. If you don't offer, I will not ask. When I ask for anything, I sound like I'm on the verge of begging and crying so far be it from me to beg.
2)I cook,clean and bend over:
With age I am starting to pick up on this concept.The cooking and cleaning one, not the bend over one. I am not the domesticated type. When I enter a house and find people in the kitchen, my first instinct is usually to sit down and put my feet up.I don't dislike cooking or cleaning but do I have to do it every day? I wish I could learn how to do this as much as I want learn how to ride a dirt bike. Some girls do this in their sleep and boy do I admire them. To naturally want to cook and look good while doing it....someday, my friends, someday!*sigh!
3)Princesses giggle, Pirates and retards guffaw:
I don't know whether it is just me or it is us girls who have been brought up with packs of boys, but giggling just does not come naturally to me. Girls giggle at jokes and cover their mouths and have little pretty laughs. I do not laugh much but when I do it is loud and bar-like. At least that's what I think it sounds like. Now the giggle is supposed to sound sexy and like everything he says is interesting. I cannot fake interest so I usually have this blank, annoyed look that just screams "go away before I hang you on a stake". I am learning the delicate art of giggling. Soon, I'll be a top notch giggler.
4)I will take care of you forever:
In my many years of hanging about the male gender, I have discovered that men take disease way way too seriously. e.g, every time my boss gets a cold, he comes dressed like he shall die and might want to be buried in the North Pole shortly there after. He lights his heater to full, shuts all his windows, calls for a humidifier and then orders chicken soup with every meal. And that is just the common cold. I don't want to belittle the misery and suffering that men experience but for a gender that thrives on contact sports, leaving you behind when you have the sniffles is not because I want to torture you. Another concept I find hard to understand....but like I said, this is a learning experience for me.
5)Of many skirts and trousers:
Girls wear skirts and boys wear trousers. I know the thighs look flattering, they define the figure, they make a girl look feminine and sexy and as a dude once put it very crudely to me one night "they make it easy to reach the ATM". Enter the tomboy and my list of excuses why I shall not wear that garment. Skirts are hard to walk around in, prove to be dangerous and difficult to use public transport and by no means make it easy to dance. Not to mention skirts call for accessorizing. I would honestly wear a skirt if I was given sufficient reason and occasionally I do throw on a pretty dress but that shall quickly be countered by months of jeans and work pants. Infact, a dude knows he has a tomboy under his spell if she willingly wears a dress when there's no occasion calling for it.
6)Just like my mama does it:
It is a well known fact that men eventually marry their mothers. My thinking:because of all the women in their lives, she is the one who stood by their nonsense, crap and misdemeanors. From jail break to making your favorite meal when you are sick with alcohol poisoning. So it is only natural to find someone who will put up with nonsense upon nonsense upon more nonsense. Well, since I like to think of myself as a rare and precious creature there can (at most) be only one,and I repeat,ONE other woman like me so her son has to really really look very hard for me.Sadly, I don't think he's looking in the right places. Oh, well. When you see him, give him my number.
7)Pride and prejudice:
I am proud and I judge. That is my biggest folly. Yes, I know my many faults but I shall only scare you with these two and I call the "follies" because they are cute instead of annoying. With my follies comes the stubbornness and stupidity of a mule. I am not proud of it, I'm just saying. Real women know how to put their pride aside for their men. A man is a proud creature and between him and his woman, it is easier for the woman to put her prejudices aside. It is a hard lesson to learn and every so often I learn it the hard and cruel way, promise to change and then go back to my deviant ways. This is perhaps the hardest lesson of all and that is why this is the first lesson I will learn.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
My broken moral compass
There's no good without bad, no light without darkness, no definition of right without a definition of wrong. The moral compass in every human being is more or less set at birth or so I think. You know if you play with fire, you get burnt and if you swim in ice, well you will most probably die of hypothermia. It's a basic lesson.
As we grow older, the lines between right and wrong start to become fuzzy and fade into a blur. Soon we want to see what would happen if we hopped from one side to the other. We wonder how much it would burn if we put our hands over a flame. If you are fortunate, the first pain is enough to deter you from personal distraction but not most of us are that fortunate. First you put the hand, get used to the pain, the you put the whole arm and before you know it, your whole body is tied to a skewer and rotating around a bonfire.
The fact that I go to church doesn't abdicate me from a life of crime and debauchery. In fact far from it. Sometimes I even think it fuels it. Testing to see how far you can go before God gets pissed enough to smite me. So what happens when the morals that your parents tried for decades to instill in you get crashed by a bus and are left for dead? Walking down K-Street looking down my nose at all those naked girls doesn't make me any better than them. I mean, hell isn't divided in chambers for those who sinned more than the others.
When I sat for my KCSE, they tortured our young minds with a poem called "The Road Less Travelled". Something about a yellow roa in the woods. The questions made absolutely no sense. Morality is definitely a road less travelled. At least not in this day and age. I don't know about days and ages before, I wasn't alive then. But it is a hardly walked on road. I don't even have to go very far to find out, all I have to do is look at the mirror to realise that my morality has been flushed down the toilet and taken my conscience right down with it.
Our morality sometimes gets lost in the on-goings of life. You keep thinking if you do something enough times and in so many different ways that what you once thought was wrong will becomes right. What you once thought was a black and white situation turns into a pale grey. Every time you do or say something ludicrous becomes the last time until it just doesn't. I guess we can blame it on society and its pressures and stresses but does society have to define who we are? Just because the sun is scorching hot doesn't make it right to walk around the CBD with nothing on but the love of Christ. It makes it understandable; but never ever right.
Of course with time the world has made some things more bearable to go around. Some of what we thought was unthinkable when we were a young and naive pentecostal followers in high school becomes the norm. Eventually we forget what defined us then and start being defined by new ideals (if you can even call them ideals) Responsibilities or lack thereof start making up what we believe and understand. Doing what is right becomes a far,far cry at the back of our minds. There is a new North and it has no morals people.
I have been trying to fight to get back my moral North for a while now and failing miserably.I guess this road is less traveled than most so it is a bit harder to come by once you lose it and every day is a battle to hold on to something that is good instead of something that feels good. Of course dunia ni ile ile, so this battle will not be an easy one to win but I can always hope. It is definitely time to buy a new compass and find that road. At least before its too late.
As we grow older, the lines between right and wrong start to become fuzzy and fade into a blur. Soon we want to see what would happen if we hopped from one side to the other. We wonder how much it would burn if we put our hands over a flame. If you are fortunate, the first pain is enough to deter you from personal distraction but not most of us are that fortunate. First you put the hand, get used to the pain, the you put the whole arm and before you know it, your whole body is tied to a skewer and rotating around a bonfire.
The fact that I go to church doesn't abdicate me from a life of crime and debauchery. In fact far from it. Sometimes I even think it fuels it. Testing to see how far you can go before God gets pissed enough to smite me. So what happens when the morals that your parents tried for decades to instill in you get crashed by a bus and are left for dead? Walking down K-Street looking down my nose at all those naked girls doesn't make me any better than them. I mean, hell isn't divided in chambers for those who sinned more than the others.
When I sat for my KCSE, they tortured our young minds with a poem called "The Road Less Travelled". Something about a yellow roa in the woods. The questions made absolutely no sense. Morality is definitely a road less travelled. At least not in this day and age. I don't know about days and ages before, I wasn't alive then. But it is a hardly walked on road. I don't even have to go very far to find out, all I have to do is look at the mirror to realise that my morality has been flushed down the toilet and taken my conscience right down with it.
Our morality sometimes gets lost in the on-goings of life. You keep thinking if you do something enough times and in so many different ways that what you once thought was wrong will becomes right. What you once thought was a black and white situation turns into a pale grey. Every time you do or say something ludicrous becomes the last time until it just doesn't. I guess we can blame it on society and its pressures and stresses but does society have to define who we are? Just because the sun is scorching hot doesn't make it right to walk around the CBD with nothing on but the love of Christ. It makes it understandable; but never ever right.
Of course with time the world has made some things more bearable to go around. Some of what we thought was unthinkable when we were a young and naive pentecostal followers in high school becomes the norm. Eventually we forget what defined us then and start being defined by new ideals (if you can even call them ideals) Responsibilities or lack thereof start making up what we believe and understand. Doing what is right becomes a far,far cry at the back of our minds. There is a new North and it has no morals people.
I have been trying to fight to get back my moral North for a while now and failing miserably.I guess this road is less traveled than most so it is a bit harder to come by once you lose it and every day is a battle to hold on to something that is good instead of something that feels good. Of course dunia ni ile ile, so this battle will not be an easy one to win but I can always hope. It is definitely time to buy a new compass and find that road. At least before its too late.
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