Happy New Year! *2012*

It’s a new year after all (in the  *it’s a small world after all* high pitched voice), and even the cool nonchalant coffee drinkers with the designer glasses and dirty jeans who appreciate avant-garde art and shrug at all the things excitable beings “ooh and aah “at have to appreciate the soundness of this! 2012!!!! It’s 2012!!!! The years have flown, and within 2011 the days have flown. It’s shocking and amazing that we are actually on the threshold of a new year. New year’s resolutions are the single most annually bastardized exercise, but with a little (nay, A LOT) of follow through they still have their merit.

Something about the dawn of a new year gives one the courage and confidence to reevaluate – reevaluate where one has been, where one is stuck in a rut, where one is or should be headed. It allows for the freedom of an honest assessment, one which could take place on any other day of the year mind you – but just feels easier and more appropriate as the months, weeks, days and hours wind down and we prepare to start afresh. There is so much knowledge in the world – a lesson which was ironically cemented after university – and as we embark on a journey into a new year let us assess from whence we can gather it and harness it and leverage it and live it…

From the mouth of babes –yes, the goo goos and ga gas (not the Lady) teach us a thing or three about appreciating the small things (literally, these small humans with whom we share our space). I don’t have any who answer my last name, but just across the hallway live 4 precious pumpkins who with just a smile, a hug or a hello invariably turn my frown upside down and give me the strength to toss off my stilettos after a long day at work and go play for a while. It is important to play for a while. Play with your little ones and play with your same sized ones, and play with your bigger ones; but thou shall play! Never ever lose sight of the smiles and the laughs and the guffaws that are intricately laced into a hard or harrowing day. A famous adage warns us not to take life too seriously because we won’t make it out alive anyway, and the pain in my heart over loved ones lost knows this is unfortunately true.

The parents. Yes, the parents. Whether real, adopted, guardians or aunties and uncles twice removed, these older family members and acquaintances can still add value. Even if you can read in 3 languages now, have 4 degrees from 5 different institutions (clearly none in mathematics) they can and will always add value. There are life lessons that simply cannot skip a generation, as the passage of time is the only professor of these truths. So just as you embraced (or “sparknoted” and “googled”) your way through an education from higher institutions of learning, never forget that higher/older learned individuals – (whether literate or illiterate is inconsequential) are at your fingertips and have tips to offer. Your old grandmother who just won’t stop talking (no disrespect) is at your disposal, and whether they are big pearls or little pearls of wisdom, there are lessons to be learned – so gather up the jewels, string yourself a necklace or a Nialaya bracelet and use it to partially illuminate your path. Because these unexpected words of wisdom do glow in the dark, and when NEPA or life takes the light you will begin to see their intrinsic value.

Horrible Bosses! Some say it was one of the most hilarious movie sof the year and I’m inclined to agree. To me it was one hell of a movie – painfully funny and thankfully far far far away from my professional reality. I have an amazing job, an insightful boss and amazing work colleagues and for that I am beyond thankful and blessed. There is no day I go to work that I do not laugh and that I do not learn something. Both are equally enjoyable. The lesson isn’t that you can always learn something at work though, I am hardly that naïve. The lesson is that you can love your job. Probably not your current job, but another job. I am not insinuating that you march into work today (hopefully your office is closed as it’s a Sunday and the 1st day of the year) and slap your quit notice on your boss’s forehead, but I’m just an advocate of loving what you spend most of your week doing. Life is short so why not take the initiative and take a chance? Why not attempt to do something that would actually make you happy for a change? I intend on changing my job too, I love the people and I love the place but ultimately it’s a magnificent laboratory and classroom, and one day I shall hang up my lab coat, put down my notebook, power off my MacBook and pour my passions and aspirations into dreams and desires that cannot be ignored – and I’m proposing that one day (you determine when “then” becomes “now”) you do same! Why? Cuz God has placed desires in our hearts and talents in our treasure chest and by fulfilling our purpose and pursuing our passions we will be happy and ultimately successful (definition subjective).

So the knowledge of the world can be harnessed from individuals; friends, foe, family members and foreigners. And the challenge is not in identifying these assets but actually using them. One of my favourite hobbies is ordinary conversations with extraordinary individuals, because the exchange of those words creates things in otherly dimensions that can then be dragged down to earth and used as the vehicle to transport one’s passions into reality.

So what should we do with all this jargon?

  •  Well, I propose that we love life and make the absolute most of it!
  •  I propose that we identify this extraordinary existing in the mundane!
  •  I propose that we appreciate the different classes and ages of individuals that occupy our space and maximize what they have to offer.
  • I propose that we identify what truly makes us happy, what activities and talents collaborate towards the fulfillment of our purpose – I propose we leverage these things and utilize them to an ideal end.
  • I propose we appreciate being alive in this new year and embrace the amazingness that it surely has to offer.

And lastly but most importantly…

  • I propose that we love each other unconditionally of course! How dare we not?

Many citizens in many-a-country over many-a-century have tried the opposite and that hasn’t gotten us very far. So in 2012 why don’t we attempt to value the exchanges we have with others and use them to make changes. Appreciate the itty-bitty things and adore the bigger ones. Why don’t we be thankful for the life we have been given and strive to make it the one we desire more deeply, rather than complaining and cringing away from challenges that stand between “then” and right now? If you are already doing this you know how rewarding it is, if you aren’t – what are you waiting for? It’s a new year, one in which some movies propose the world is coming to an end, so toss out the Mayan calendar and the surly attitude and live life, love others, maximize moments and realize just how truly blessed we are to be ushering in a new year!

God bless you and yours, and may He leverage your best efforts into things bigger and better than your wildest wishes could ever conceive! ❤

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Trust(ee) in Training

Women are trained to trust! As a gender, women most often get tarred and feathered as being emotional, naïve, and the silly ones in the relationship. There are a higher percentage of women who submit themselves to a life of doormat-ship and allow themselves to be washed, walked on, and eventually dusted off when they become too worn to be wanted anymore.

My theory is women are trained up to trust.

There are so many facets to the modern day woman that must be outsourced that women are simply trained to trust straight up strangers. Follow my train of thought here…

We trust our hairdressers, our nail technicians, our tailors, our friends (to tell us if we can pull off whatever dress/design without looking fat), our market vendors from whom we buy vegetables and meat, our fellow women (think bathroom breaks during sweaty clubbing sessions – “Do I look shiny?” “Is my make-up okay?” “Do you think its okay if I take my shoes off” *quite frankly NO* but I digress..). We trust our beauty supply store clerks to tell us if we can rinse the hair dye directly in or need to base it first. We trust the mirror, the Mac make-up technicians, the midwives, the E! stylists, the calorie counting magazine motivators, our mothers (to teach us how to cook sweet soup and serve it up the right way) and the list goes on.

We trust a plethora of people, most of whom we’ve only met moments before. Therefore is it not logical that we are easily inclined to trust someone that supposedly gives us a reason to? Someone who woos us and washes us with words we want to hear? Indeed! The fairytale framework is already set in place in our minds, so once the character hypothetically rides in on that proverbial white horse, we easily transfer the most important level of trust unto him. This my darlings is where the danger lurks. For this kind of trust can shatter the heart of she who bestows it without a second thought upon said object of interest.

So after being trained up to trust we must teach ourselves to master trust and invite some mistrust into our midst. After all the Miss with the most trust is usually left at a loss for most times blind trust does not pay off.

So hold back emotions, analyze situations critically, let it be earned rather than freely given. If he is sewing on your clothes feel free to let your feelings show, but if his sole goal is to strip them away you better make him wait. Build that relationship, for only transactions should be conducted with quickness, and even those could benefit from some skepticism.

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Photo Source: http://www.wildaboutmovies.com/movies/TheWomen2008Movie-TheWomen2008Trailer-DianeEnglish.php http://hippyofdoom.deviantart.com/art/Lipstick-Kiss-Shoes-77926728

Dear John Break- Up Letter: To the One Who Could Have Made Me Better <3

Dear John,

The truth is its really not you, its me. Well it’s not really me – it’s more like us. Have I literally cheated? No. But I do a little every day in every little way. I lied to you when I gave you the impression that it was just the two of us in this relationships – it’s not!

I must confess that my girlfriends are in this relationship too! I love you. I love you until we have a girls’ night out and they attempt to pawn me off to the businessman celebrating happy hour in an Armani suit and Gucci loafers. I love you, until they begin to water the seeds of doubt about how I should be with someone whose taller, shorter, better looking, less attractive, with a more similar background, with more prospects, whose less in the spotlight, more ambitious, someone with straighter teeth, a smaller nose, a stronger chin, not so sweet, someone less rough around the edges – let me catch my breath. (Inhale. Exhale). Someone whose more self-motivated, someone whose moving up the corporate ladder, an entrepreneur, a… The list goes on. Every different day it’s one thing or another. And you my love never seem to measure up. I do not know what the ever shifting yardstick is though, because you come out a head above their present or absent men, yet they are convinced that convincing me out of love with you is the best option. So – it’s not you, it’s us (me + my gfs).

And dear John, the truth is it’s not just you and I, and my girlfriends; but there is society as well. The way they gawk at us when we are out and about. The disapproving looks we get from various faced races as our skin tones are laid bare and exposed for comparison as we hold hands down the paved streets. Its history that haunts us saying once this was not allowed, and now it is barely permissible. It’s the present as it exists full of people who are contradictions onto themselves. It’s society that screams to me that something isn’t right. Our compatibility isn’t evident, and so they say we must separate.

And dear John, the truth is my dearest it’s not you, but the media. The media that tells me someone who’s a 10 should not be with a mere 6.5. And so I attempt to do the math. Adding and averaging but there simply aren’t enough numbers, and so the probability of our success is skewed on a left-tail test. Some days you take the top score, and other times the scale tips my way. It depends on our Fall wardrobes and our fitness regiment, our regular spa treatments and the size of our 401Ks. It’s the trending topic on Twitter that tells me the next “it couple” has already split. And then my sense of security shatters for they are prettier, richer, and afforded more opportunities, how dare I believe I deserve to keep my man when she can’t keep hers, after all I can barely afford to walk a mile in her Manolos.*

And then it’s my parents, and the rest of my family. Their mixed messages of wait, pause, stop, reboot, play. Everyone wants of me something different. The clarity to make conscious decisions. The freedom to further my career. The maneuverability to make the best of my youth. They think someone younger would be better for me. Someone more mature. Someone with a broader background. Someone less secure. Someone who doesn’t need to tan to attain our complexion. Someone who has already vacationed where we are. Someone with a less controversial family. Someone pre-approved by them. Someone they can take credit for.

So my darling sweet John, it’s not you – it’s us. The girlfriends, the society, the media, la familia, and my own self doubt that lets them occupy a space in my head rent free. That’s really what it is. My self doubt. I doubt what good you can see in myself when I can stoop so low to have thoughts such as these. And after they’ve ripped you apart with their words and punctuations, I pause hand poised above the paper, wondering what to write to you. Wondering what credible reason I can give that is multi-explanatory. Something that will let both of us live with these decisions in a sensible fashion. I wonder where you will wander to next. Beneath my girlfriends’ criticism and constant critique I see signs of attraction, and I hope and pray that you will never succumb to their passion. For then I shall lose not only you my love, but those I sacrificed you for because I was too weak to want what I want and not allow anyone to water down my once concentrated commitment to it. To you.

Society speaks and I am pressured to listen.

Because I believe in Chanel quilted bags and Gucci glasses,
Louboutin pumps and yoga classes,
Smoothies for breakfast, crackers for brunch,
And Evian and cocktail olives for dinner and lunch.

And there’s nothing wrong with these being a few of my favourite things, but somewhere in between, I started to buy into what they really mean. An expensive uniform that inducts one into conformity, and somewhere along the line I lost my uniqueness. My strong mind whittled away by the who’s who and what’s acceptable in the upper tiers. And here I am up here, face awash with tears. For I must give you up, because you don’t quite make the cut. New money, smells funny – they don’t respect ambition. They search for that distinction that comes from a hierarchy, a family tree that you do not have my love, and now that I’ve fallen I must get up. Now that I have you, I must give you up.

Dear John. It’s not you, but all that you are on paper and in print, and all that I’m not in spirit and in strength. My French and Italian paintings will be the only ones to see me cry, as I walk barefoot and downtrodden along the marble floors onto plush Persian rugs in my Penthouse apartment. And every little thing will remind me of what we were, and what we both are not. You are not qualified, and I’m in the deepest sense shallow. After you read this letter I’ll be all alone. For when you read the truths between the lines you’ll realize what I’ve become, and you won’t love me anymore, but I’ll love you always. They’ll say I finally grew up and let the loser go, but I know I’m the one who’s losing out on you. And this regret will make me bitter, and while I’ll call myself a “go getter,” I’ll just be a digger. Digging for someone better by mine and media and society and sorority and family standards. But his better will be worse, for like me he’ll be put together. And the paparazzi will love it, and so will the public, but at home we’ll both loathe it for our expensive mirrors have reflections – and those we’ll abhor. We look stunning together, yet in spirit we are both dirt poor. And I’ll regret this decision, but as far as my brand goes – it’ll be adored.

And so my dearest, we must break up. And the truth is, it’s really not you – it is in fact me. I’m sorry!

Love, Barbie.

Picture Source: http://www.stain-removal-101.com/how-to-remove-lipstick-stains-from-clothes.html

My Tomorrow left Yesterday :(

iCan’t write about you. iCan write about anyone else. Cuz everyone else is here to defend themselves.

iCan’t write about you. Because you are far gone. You’ve been here and done this, and left me to mourn.

 I don’t know what to say. The words just don’t come out right. Forever out of mind. Never out of sight.

 iSee you with my eyes closed. Hear you when iDon’t listen. Feel you when I’m dreaming. Wake up to you missing.

I’m trapped in a prison. My emotions have no release. For while you are the catalyst, you’re also the deceased.

Who do I tell what I’m feeling? It doesn’t matter what iSay. So iWhisper it on the inside. Then I pray and I pray.

What happens to a soul departed after it’s risen up? Does it look down and miss what it’s given up?

Or does it just rejoice in the new, embracing what it could never conjure. Forgetting about the reflection of a life, it was living before.

I want the pain to dissipate. But I know it never will. I take comfort in that fact, for I’m holding on still.

The phone battery is dead, the text messages erased. The voice notes expired. Yet tears still cascade down my face.

It hasn’t been that long. It feels like yesterday. Yet it feels like forever, for the whole future is changed.

Our future a construction site, on which the scaffolding has toppled down. And the foundation crumbled, all is rubble scattered on the ground.

Burying your body, trapping my heart, crushing our construct, as your memory departs.

You cannot be forgotten. I hold on to the pain. And give in to its pull, for then I almost feel sane.

“A penny for my thoughts?” How about a yen? The last place you were spotted. Haven’t seen you since then.

Except for every night. When iDream that you lived. And wake up the next morning, feeling like a kid.

But the pain is my present, and it presents the past. The sleep clears from my eyes, reality sets in fast.

Eyes wide shut I no longer see you. So the pain seeps back into my core. I could have sworn you were right here. I pray I dream again tomorrow.

Why would God let me glimpse you, only to take you back? Why would our souls merge, only to have them retract?

There was a point to our encounters, all pointless now. Was there a point to our encounters? I’ll try figure it out somehow.

The strongest emotions course through my veins, rendering me weakest – my crying is in vain.

I’ve typed and backspaced this many a time, but today I’m not erasing what’s always on my mind.

I don’t know why we met, I don’t know why you left, I don’t know why you slept, but I will never forget.

Your eyes are fading from my mind. I don’t know what hurts most? The fact that I can’t see your face or that I’ll always recognize your ghost. You are embedded in my soul, I feel you in my inhale, gone but not forgotten, the (k)night in my fairytale.

Where everything is bliss, until darkness falls, and everything is perfect, until He calls.

And then you go leaving fingerprints on the doorknob, and the door wide open. Allowing darkness to seep in, and ravage my every emotion.

You make me want to live more, you make me want to feel less, I can’t let go of the “what ifs,” I’m lightweight obsessed.

I’ll wish upon the whole sky, even though iKnow nothing will change, yet still every falling star, will bear mention of your name.

iLoveYou.

iMissYou.

*234 days

Dear Baby Yet Unborn (Volume I)

Dear darling daughter,

What can I warn you about this world you will one day enter? Of this I do not know. It is ever changing and realities are always shifting, yet I will try. I know not what the conditions surrounding your birth will be, yet some constants shall remain ever true:

I can tell you that degrees matter more and less. To be well educated is invaluable, yet real money is less frequently attained through a predictable trajectory, but more so through trial and error, and most often a brilliant idea + a little bit of luck.

I can tell you that people are always changing. Buying new body parts and sometimes snipping off old ones as the definition of “beauty” changes. But this my love, is not what true beauty is.

Beautiful is you! Unborn and untouched, yet known before ever being knit in my womb. I know nothing about you, other than you will be part me. And this – is more than enough. You have no father yet to speak of, and while conception is years away – love is already here to stay.

Beauty is confidence in your talents and acknowlegment of your flaws. One who strives and is not afraid to fall. Beauty is the potential and possibility that is you.

I learned to love by how I was loved, and that love demanded only one thing from me: that I be the absolute best version of myself. That I strive and seek to succeed, never settling or letting fear paralyze my progress towards the path ahead. That I accept a helping hand from the source from which love sprung forth whenever I fell, and allowed myself a dust-off and to be enveloped in warm arms, while I prepared to head back out.

And so my love, my love for you will be thus: Be who YOU want to be. Doctor, carpenter, career services counselor, painter, or poet. Live life on your own terms – determining what income level satisfies you, what continent you will reside on, whether you will travel by yatch or donkey – and whichever, I shall love you both ceaselessly and carelessly.

Strength comes from within, and with the still silent voice within as your guide, and an ample support system outside you shall attain, gain, and maintain *strength.

 
I was never told what I should be. Never advised against pursuing my dreams. Never given a mold of which I had to stretch or fold to fit into. I was simply loved. And I pay that love forward to the next rightful owner in generation next.

As it flows through my veins, it will one day pass through the umbilical cord to the literal center of your little being, and then you will know what I know. That you are loved! Just as I have and continue to be sustained by the love that my mother radiates towards me. Love that is so deeply embedded and so strongly felt that I understand perfectly what was designed in the heavens with regards to pure undiluted and untainted parent-to-child love, and the even greater prototype of how He first loved us. Love deep enough that I am convicted enough to make my musings known to you years in advance.

The task the lays ahead concerning you is daunting, so I prepare now. Studying and working and discerning and hoping and above all – praying, so that years from now your arrival shall be to one where fear of tomorrow shall never wrinkle your delicate little forehead.

Yet here I am getting ahead of myself. I speak as one who is already on the brink of where I’m merely looking out to. But to be forearmed is to be better prepared, so I take my advice and hold on to it, invest it to see if it will bring forth returns. And these assets I shall use to further myself, and this wisdom I shall plant in my heart so that the tree of truth shall grow, and when you too begin to grow years from now – you shall reside in the shade of assurance that in this ever changing universe – heaven, hope, and my heart beat attuned to yours – are ever constant.

My darling daughter – What can I warn you about this world you will one day enter? Of this I do not know. It is ever changing and realities are shifting, yet I will try. I know not what the conditions of 2017 will be, yet some constants shall remain ever true: I will always always love you, and as thus it is critical to prepare now, to be a woman you will be proud of, to live a life whose mistakes you can learn from, to become a mother that you will choose to love back – for who I was, who I am, and who I am yet to become. To be one so full of life that it oozes out of my very pores and pours back into yours (as biologically impossible as that may sound), to be one with the One who first entrusted you to me so that the plans for your life and my role in them may become evident.

I do not know what the future shall hold in exact quantities, but the ingredients for an enriching existence I now seek:

Enough strength of character to be strong when you are not

Enough discernment to discipline you when all I feel is biased love

Enough restraint to save now and build towards a better life for you

Enough worry to keep you safe and say “no” when you should not

Enough love to make the world feel like home

Yet enough truth serum to teach you that it is not

Enough resilience to find the right father

Enough prayers to bind it all together

AND enough love to assure you that you are more than enough.

Ever Yours,

Mommy?