I try to be as professional and calm as humanly possible. Decorum is underrated. Respect should be earned.
I couldn’t keep up the facade on this one particular afternoon. I decided to lose it. Enough is enough.
I threw up both hands and uttered, “whatever.”
As if I was 16. But it was the most appropriate thing to say. The recalcitrant individual walked away.
Good riddance.
Lose your shit. Sometimes it is the only thing that works.
The windows roll down as we speed down the road. Flowers getting ready to bloom fills the early evening air. Intoxicated with the promise of more evenings such as tonight, we stop holding our breaths. We exhale. We inhale. Ah, the sweet smell of life!
The more YouTube videos I watch, the more I want to binge. It keeps suggesting more relevant content to suck me in. Great life advices are given and I love the short clips.
They all add up and I am hooked again!
Then I go cold turkey again. No more YouTube. No more Netflix
Why am I so much happier? Because I am busy living.
I unfurl my limbs, like the tiny shoot sprouting after a long and uneventful winter. Pushing the tough shell to kiss the sweet air filled with promise of a new life.
I look around to see contentment. People coming together to enjoy nothing other than each other.
It is a great evening to be alive and well.
My team of 4 sits in the corner but there is a seat in between them.
Two days ago, I asked them to sit next to one another on a 2×2 grid.
I created two rows of separation between me and the team to give then space to work among themselves.
Already, I see them talking more and working better together.
Lately, I have been binging on Netflix series and feeling like a zombie. Not ideal and completely nonproductive. Addiction of this nature is a symptom of unresolved internal issues.
I haven’t been able to do much writing, and it’s impossible to do so while driving. I deleted the wretched app from my phone and got some well received rest last night.
To make the best use of my drive to work, I decided to say out loud the things usually captured in black and white. I talked out loud, highlighting recent events that magnetized fears boiling to the surface.
Appreciating the people and the things in my life. Celebrating accomplishments. Lamenting on failures.
Recapping the dreams and hopes that have mostly come true.
Conclusion? Growth and development is important to me. It makes me happy to push against the boundaries. I had been holding myself back for foolish reasons, and despite my efforts to grow, I had been too accustomed to shrinking and hiding away from the world. Like a baby elephant tied to a pole and growing big and powerful, yet not knowing it is free to go as it wishes.
No longer small and powerless.
It takes a long time to change our behavior. Habit, they call it.
What must I do to change my ways from the old to the desired new state.
Don’t handle the same thing twice. Touch it once. Do it right first time. Reduce switching costs. Have difficult discussions as soon as possible.
It was good to vent to myself this morning. Overdue catharsis.
The television was on even when it was time to sleep. Especially when peace and quiet was the the flavor of the night.
A thin blanket covers the linoleum floor. The two of us share a blanket atop. She holds my hand. She touches my head. Personal space, grandma? She calls me baby. She just wants to be close. She would look at my face as if trying to remember me for all the times she would miss me.
She and I fall asleep. I conclude my visit. I move on. Time fills the gap. I forget about the times we shared.
I reach out for his hand as I fall asleep. I reach for his hands to caress and slot my hand inside his.
I look into his eyes. His face. Trying to savor every detail. Every textured surface. As if I am her. Old and forgotten, living on her own, away from her children and their children. The TV keeps her company when she is alone. Always alone. Too quiet.
I am not she. I am not old. I am not alone. I am not lonely.
I am me but I think of her often. Thoughts of her brings me joy and tears, all at once. I am not just a sum of my own life, but a collection of my ancestors even if I have no recollection of their lives.
I wonder, did I do enough? Was I too harsh? Was I kind? Was I around? Was I enough? Never enough. Always too much. Many regrets.
I reach for his hand. I imagine how she must have felt when she held mine in her wrinkly hands. To be able to hold the hand of someone you love is a privilege. A moment to be treasured and appreciated right now.
And spending money for others can be uncannily satisfying. Imagining how happy they will be when the package arrives.
Why do we still see skinny models everywhere? Why aren’t there people who look more like the rest of us representedon ads?
This thought is sparked my a conversation I had with a lady in her 40s who is 178cm or about 5’11”. I joked she should be a run way model and she said no way. Why not, I asked. There are more women who look like her, than the super skinny lady I saw at the gym with a nice boob job.
Especially in Africa? People here have different body types.
Why aren’t people of color featured more here or elsewhere, for that matter?
We have no choice but to die. We don’t know when. We don’t know how. But this is a fact.
We have a choice to live or simply exist. We know this must be done now. We should know how. This is also a fact.
Yet, we fret about death.
Yet, we do nothing do fill our precious days.
Why do we waste our time worrying about the things we have no control over?
Why do we not do the things within our control?
Why?