Starting this week, I am combining this blog with my other one, 'Africa to America' into a new Blog called 'Pieces of me'. You can find this at: http://mymouth-togodsears.blogspot.com/
I am going to try and make regular weekly updates. The content will remain along the same lines but hopefully will cover more ground.
I hope you enjoy it. As before, all your comments and suggestions are welcome.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Monday, December 18, 2006
A witness to our lives.
I am having boyfriend trouble again. This is so annoying. I don’t understand what the hell is going on. Why can’t he just get over it and forgive me? Why can’t he just call me and yell at me and get it all out of his system. This is just killing me. It really is. I think I am annoyed that I miss him almost as much as I actually miss him, does that make any sense? I am simply feeling lonesome. Having no one to talk to, you see? I need to vent and yell and need someone to grunt and ‘uh-huh’ to my ranting. I know I have been getting sick of him and some secret part of me has known and been pushing for this breakup. We are so wrong for each other. I can not be what he needs and he sure as hell isn’t what I can take home to my mother. See? Doomed. But I had gotten comfortable with him. I need someone to grunt to my venting!!
This is probably why I am going to get married. Because I don’t want to be alone, with no one to ‘uh-huh’ my soliloquies. I mean, as much as I love my solitude, once in a while, I need to know that my existence matters to someone other than my family, who live off my labor. I read somewhere that people marry to have a witness to their lives. A spouse is nothing but a witness to your life. I mean, my current situation just goes to show that friends are way too fickle. They can’t be trusted to stick around through it all. A spouse is supposed to do that. Be there. Till death do us part. At least that’s the theory. Of course I realize marriage is not forever any more, but I’d like to think, going in, that this is it. I am off the market for good. I have found my witness. My scribe. I can now relax and just live. There has got to be some comfort in that. But perhaps that’s why marriage nowadays has lost such appeal. Even legal documentation can’t keep a person by your side. Affection, we’ve already seen, is fickle, at best. One day we are buddies, another day, you don’t like me as much and are free to move on, drift apart and away. Marriage is supposed to be legally binding friendship. No drifting and parting allowed. At least in theory. But now, even the guarantee of marriage has been destroyed. No one will stay with you for ever. Even your children will dump you in an old people’s home as soon as they can. You are on your own buster. On your own.
I love my own company. I adore it. I have a tendency to sometimes get impatient with people. I like myself best. My own company over a party any day. But it’s back to the witness thing. I want someone to acknowledge my existence. To say, good job, when I do something great, someone to share a joke with, someone to distract me when I’m stressed, and someone to fuss over me, just as I fuss over them.
Damn. Looks like I’m going to have to get married after all.
This is probably why I am going to get married. Because I don’t want to be alone, with no one to ‘uh-huh’ my soliloquies. I mean, as much as I love my solitude, once in a while, I need to know that my existence matters to someone other than my family, who live off my labor. I read somewhere that people marry to have a witness to their lives. A spouse is nothing but a witness to your life. I mean, my current situation just goes to show that friends are way too fickle. They can’t be trusted to stick around through it all. A spouse is supposed to do that. Be there. Till death do us part. At least that’s the theory. Of course I realize marriage is not forever any more, but I’d like to think, going in, that this is it. I am off the market for good. I have found my witness. My scribe. I can now relax and just live. There has got to be some comfort in that. But perhaps that’s why marriage nowadays has lost such appeal. Even legal documentation can’t keep a person by your side. Affection, we’ve already seen, is fickle, at best. One day we are buddies, another day, you don’t like me as much and are free to move on, drift apart and away. Marriage is supposed to be legally binding friendship. No drifting and parting allowed. At least in theory. But now, even the guarantee of marriage has been destroyed. No one will stay with you for ever. Even your children will dump you in an old people’s home as soon as they can. You are on your own buster. On your own.
I love my own company. I adore it. I have a tendency to sometimes get impatient with people. I like myself best. My own company over a party any day. But it’s back to the witness thing. I want someone to acknowledge my existence. To say, good job, when I do something great, someone to share a joke with, someone to distract me when I’m stressed, and someone to fuss over me, just as I fuss over them.
Damn. Looks like I’m going to have to get married after all.
Saturday, December 9, 2006
So what do you do?
My father used to tell me that I could be anything I wanted to be. Unfortunately for him and my mother, I believed him and took him literally. I wanted to be a doctor, a lawyer, and astronaut, a pilot, a youth pastor, a movie director, an author and a chef. Unfortunately for reality, I still believe that I can do and be all those things. That’s probably why, at thirty, I still can’t pick and career and decide what I want to study in college. I know if I put my mind to it, I can be good at anything. I think that may be the problem. The fact that I can be good and excel at anything I put my mind to. If I were limited in my scope of interest, if one subject was harder than the other, then I’d be better able to know which direction I should take, which path I’m destined to travel. As of right now, all I know is that I probably can’t be a doctor because low and behold, I’m squeamish about blood. *sigh*
The scary thing about choosing a career is that it defines you. It shouldn’t – of course, but it does. It would be nice to think that it is the other way round. Well, sometimes it is. Some people are doctors because they genuinely love helping people and can’t imagine doing anything else. These are those special people who have always known what they want to do. For them, it was written, not in the stars, but on their forehead. I am not that lucky. What I am going to be was written in the stars, far, far out of my reach and way beyond my understanding. I will have to stumble through false starts, maybe babies and hopeful pitfalls before I find my one true calling – If I do have a one true calling. But what if I don’t? Have that one true calling, I mean.
The only thing that I’ve always wanted to do, throughout every phase of my life, was to write. I’ve been through a lot of phases. My life is all about phases. Everyone has them when they are younger – the ‘I want to be a fireman’ phase, then the ‘I want to be a pilot’ phase. Don’t forget the ‘I want to be a race car driver’ phase, followed by the ‘I want to be a zoologist’ phase. While we’re eventually supposed to find a phase that fits, a phase that we settle in and that becomes our lives, some of us just keep wondering through phases. After years of panicking about not finding my niche, I am finally getting comfortable with not having a niche. I think I may be coming to terms with the fact that my life may always be simply about phases. One new phase after another. While this may mean constant instability, it also means constant adventure. My life will never be boring, never be stagnant. I’ll never have to worry about getting into a rut. Instead, I can look forward to learning everything about everything. Not a bad idea for a girl who has always said she knows everything, huh? ;-))
The scary thing about choosing a career is that it defines you. It shouldn’t – of course, but it does. It would be nice to think that it is the other way round. Well, sometimes it is. Some people are doctors because they genuinely love helping people and can’t imagine doing anything else. These are those special people who have always known what they want to do. For them, it was written, not in the stars, but on their forehead. I am not that lucky. What I am going to be was written in the stars, far, far out of my reach and way beyond my understanding. I will have to stumble through false starts, maybe babies and hopeful pitfalls before I find my one true calling – If I do have a one true calling. But what if I don’t? Have that one true calling, I mean.
The only thing that I’ve always wanted to do, throughout every phase of my life, was to write. I’ve been through a lot of phases. My life is all about phases. Everyone has them when they are younger – the ‘I want to be a fireman’ phase, then the ‘I want to be a pilot’ phase. Don’t forget the ‘I want to be a race car driver’ phase, followed by the ‘I want to be a zoologist’ phase. While we’re eventually supposed to find a phase that fits, a phase that we settle in and that becomes our lives, some of us just keep wondering through phases. After years of panicking about not finding my niche, I am finally getting comfortable with not having a niche. I think I may be coming to terms with the fact that my life may always be simply about phases. One new phase after another. While this may mean constant instability, it also means constant adventure. My life will never be boring, never be stagnant. I’ll never have to worry about getting into a rut. Instead, I can look forward to learning everything about everything. Not a bad idea for a girl who has always said she knows everything, huh? ;-))
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
The Angelica Factor
.jpg)
I am the oldest of five. I am the ultimate big sister. Anyone who spends more than thirty minutes in my company can tell you that. I know how to marshal people into doing something even if they don’t want to. I know how to change their opinion so that they think my idea is their own. Some might say I am a bully, but I am nice about it, and I always know best. Even if I change sides in an argument, I’m still right.My siblings call it the Angelica factor – from Angelica from the Rugrats. I am the consummate leader of the pack. People follow me, willingly or by force, although I refuse to be classified as anything as uncouth as a bully. I am not a bully. I simply know what’s best for everyone. That doesn’t mean I don’t listen to oppositions. I do. I think it’s important that everyone has an opinion and that every opinion be heard and respected. My opinions are simply superior. As my younger brother likes to say, I run a democracy as a dictatorship. I disagree. Freedom of speech is allowed – nay, encouraged. If I decide that we do one thing, I am welcome to alternative plans. We can argue and debate the whole issue. In fact, I insist that everyone voice their opinion. But at the end of it all, I know best. ;-))
Sunday, November 19, 2006
We give Thanks
It's the beginning of Thanksgiving week. A holiday I don't really understand, because all people really do is sit around and eat, just like every other day. Except that they do it with family, and eat food they actually cook - no take out. More than anything, Thanksgiving is about cooking the food, and then eating the food. I think it's the only time Americans actually pray before a meal.
I like to joke to my mum (although, truth be told, I'm not really kidding) that there is no God in America. People here toot his principles and call on the Ten Commandments (frequently called the Ten Suggestions), but no one really reads the bible. Other than believing that God exists on a distant, universal plane somewhere, no one really cares much about him. He is certainly not a part of the every day life. I must clarify though, that I am talking primarily about the New York area. We are a long way from the great American Bible Belt. Here, my radio alarm clock catches hundreds of radio stations, but not a single one is Christian. I have Comcast Cable that boasts 360 channels - none of them are Chriatian. (The one channel with 24/7 talk shows with catholic priests and nuns doesn't count in my book.)
While many of us - or is it just me? - link Thanksgiving to Christianity, I guess the holiday is not really a religious one. (Although one wonders if not to God, who are we giving thanks to...?) It's an American one. Note I didn't say universal, beacuse while giving thanks is a universal habit, celebrating it and doing it only once a year is American. I like the holiday. I like the idea behind it. I like that it brings families together, I love the smell of food - even though I personally HATE turkey and cranberry sauce). I love the idea of getting together to do nothing but eat and catch up on each other.
Despite the fact that I usually work through the holiday, the spirit of it still touches my heart. Thanksgiving is all about stopping to remember what we have and being grateful for it. It also heralds the christmas season, the season of joy and goodwill. I love thanksgiving, not for the food, (the whole menu needs to be revised, if you ask me!), not for the family togetherness (it's a 22/hr flight to get home) but because of how decent it makes us. And for that, I give thanks.
I like to joke to my mum (although, truth be told, I'm not really kidding) that there is no God in America. People here toot his principles and call on the Ten Commandments (frequently called the Ten Suggestions), but no one really reads the bible. Other than believing that God exists on a distant, universal plane somewhere, no one really cares much about him. He is certainly not a part of the every day life. I must clarify though, that I am talking primarily about the New York area. We are a long way from the great American Bible Belt. Here, my radio alarm clock catches hundreds of radio stations, but not a single one is Christian. I have Comcast Cable that boasts 360 channels - none of them are Chriatian. (The one channel with 24/7 talk shows with catholic priests and nuns doesn't count in my book.)
While many of us - or is it just me? - link Thanksgiving to Christianity, I guess the holiday is not really a religious one. (Although one wonders if not to God, who are we giving thanks to...?) It's an American one. Note I didn't say universal, beacuse while giving thanks is a universal habit, celebrating it and doing it only once a year is American. I like the holiday. I like the idea behind it. I like that it brings families together, I love the smell of food - even though I personally HATE turkey and cranberry sauce). I love the idea of getting together to do nothing but eat and catch up on each other.
Despite the fact that I usually work through the holiday, the spirit of it still touches my heart. Thanksgiving is all about stopping to remember what we have and being grateful for it. It also heralds the christmas season, the season of joy and goodwill. I love thanksgiving, not for the food, (the whole menu needs to be revised, if you ask me!), not for the family togetherness (it's a 22/hr flight to get home) but because of how decent it makes us. And for that, I give thanks.
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Marks of time
"Let me know my end and the extent of my days, that I may know how transient I am." Psalms 39 Vs 4
A wise man knows to mark his time,
To watch the passing of each day, each hour
To count each moment of living,
To scar it and brand it and claim it.
Too often we forget
Lulled by the consistency of seconds ticking by
we become content, compliant
Careless, useless, senseless
Like pearls thrown before a swine
time ticks by
Seconds, minutes, hours, days
it marches on.
In a blur, in a mist
like a shadow, like a phantom
time ticks on
noticed or not, respected or not,
honored or not, celebrated or not,
Time moves on.
And like the flowers that bloom in the wild,
for a time we are here
And then gone.
And time remembers us no more.
A wise man knows to mark his time,
To watch the passing of each day, each hour
To count each moment of living,
To scar it and brand it and claim it.
Too often we forget
Lulled by the consistency of seconds ticking by
we become content, compliant
Careless, useless, senseless
Like pearls thrown before a swine
time ticks by
Seconds, minutes, hours, days
it marches on.
In a blur, in a mist
like a shadow, like a phantom
time ticks on
noticed or not, respected or not,
honored or not, celebrated or not,
Time moves on.
And like the flowers that bloom in the wild,
for a time we are here
And then gone.
And time remembers us no more.
My life so far
My one fear in life, the one thing I fear above all else is that I will lead an ordinary life. That when all is said and done, I'll just be ordinary and be content with that. That's probably why I've always changed jobs so much, and have avoided getting married with such a vengeance. I yearn for adventure, for the unexpected. The new, the exciting, the spectacular.
But if coming to America has taught me anything, it's that there are different degrees of ordinary and extraordinary. Here, where everything has been already done, the boundaries of extraordinary are raised and pushed on a daily basis. It's pretty hard to be extraordinary in a place where 15-year-olds can be millionaires and a guy can make a comfortable living wondering the streets in nothing but underwear, a hat, boots and a guitar.
What I need to do is decide what exactly I want from my life. What I want written on my epitaph. What do I want them to say about me? What do I want to be remembered for? Do I want them to say that I was too restless to stay still and smell the flowers, or that I was always excited about life and eager to explore all its nooks and crannies. Will they say that I was scared of commitment or that I was such a free spirit that nothing could contain me. Will they say that I was a contrary enigma or that I was constantly fascinating? Will they remember me at all?
I am not sure what I want to do with my life. I don't know where I want to go or what I want to be. I just know that I want to have fun and be successful. Of course, we need to figure out what exactly I mean by success. But I want to be happy. I want to go to my grave with a smile on my face. I know I will make a lot of mistakes, but still have no regrets. As much as the destination of my life's journey matters, I want my life to also be about the roads I take. Sometimes the highways, and sometimes the scenic routes. Some smart person once said that life is not about the destination but about the journey. As I'm not so sure about my exact destination, I might as well enjoy the scenery.
But if coming to America has taught me anything, it's that there are different degrees of ordinary and extraordinary. Here, where everything has been already done, the boundaries of extraordinary are raised and pushed on a daily basis. It's pretty hard to be extraordinary in a place where 15-year-olds can be millionaires and a guy can make a comfortable living wondering the streets in nothing but underwear, a hat, boots and a guitar.
What I need to do is decide what exactly I want from my life. What I want written on my epitaph. What do I want them to say about me? What do I want to be remembered for? Do I want them to say that I was too restless to stay still and smell the flowers, or that I was always excited about life and eager to explore all its nooks and crannies. Will they say that I was scared of commitment or that I was such a free spirit that nothing could contain me. Will they say that I was a contrary enigma or that I was constantly fascinating? Will they remember me at all?
I am not sure what I want to do with my life. I don't know where I want to go or what I want to be. I just know that I want to have fun and be successful. Of course, we need to figure out what exactly I mean by success. But I want to be happy. I want to go to my grave with a smile on my face. I know I will make a lot of mistakes, but still have no regrets. As much as the destination of my life's journey matters, I want my life to also be about the roads I take. Sometimes the highways, and sometimes the scenic routes. Some smart person once said that life is not about the destination but about the journey. As I'm not so sure about my exact destination, I might as well enjoy the scenery.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
.0.jpg){kind=link}
.jpg){kind=link}