Selah

“The sabbath was made for man, and not man for the sabbath.”
The Bible Mark 2:27

Selah is a biblical word that means; REST, SILENCE, PAUSE, END, BREAK, HALT, INTERLUDE, INTERMISSION, LULL, RESPITE, STILLNESS or TIME OUT.

The Sabbath is the day Jews and Christians celebrate Selah. A day of stillness and contemplation.

“Six days you shall work but the seventh day you shall rest.” Exodus 34:21

This is a good reminder to us that there are more important things than making money or completing everything on our ”To Do” lists. The Sabbath is symbolic of a day or time where we free ourselves from mindless, robotic tasks and pressures and pause to reflect on life’s mysteries. It is also a time to acknowledge and be grateful for the blessings in our world. Life is demanding. Our lives can become so congested and our schedules so crammed that sacred moments are lost. Is it any wonder why, at times, we feel so empty and overwhelmed? A day of rest is an opportunity to refuel and refocus.

“Even an artist cannot continuously wield his brush. He must stop at times to freshen his vision.” Living is also an art. The Sabbath represents those moments when we pause to renew our vision.

YOUR SELAH CHALLENGE

Your Selah day, or your Sabbath, does not have to be on a Sunday. Nowadays many people are forced to work on Sundays. Regardless of the day or time you choose, be sure to schedule a break into your week. Make it a day, or even half day, of rest.

A time to REFOCUS! A time to REFUEL! A time to REIGNITE!

Life is short. Make sure you stop and smell the roses.
Plan what you are going to do with your time off. Plan to go for a walk along the beach or in the park. Find a quiet spot to write in your journal. Give yourself time to reflect, relax and recharge for the coming week.

WRITE FIVE THINGS YOU WILL DO ON YOUR NEXT “SELAH” DAY (WHICH HOPEFULLY, SHOULD BE LESS THAN SEVEN DAYS AWAY!)

You will be amazed how much more energy and focus you have at work, at home and in school if you give your mind and your body a chance to rest.

At church tonight we looked at Nehemiah 6-8.  During the message we enjoyed cheesecake and hot cocoa.  But not just to enjoy some yummy treats as a snack.  It was intentional.

In chapter 8 we see Ezra reading the laws and the people are listening and begin to weep and mourn.  Then, Nehemiah, in 8:10-12, tells the people to stop weeping.  This isn’t a time to mourn, this is a time to celebrate with decadent food and sweet drinks!

All of us had a piece of cheesecake and a cup of cocoa.  Each time we read a portion of scripture we would take a bite and a sip.  We wanted to make the connection between God’s Word and the sweetness in our mouths.

It got me thinking about this concept of God’s Word being sweet goodness.  Sometimes God’s Word stings, it can cut deep.  It is supposed to sometimes.  There are things in our life that need to be refined, re-prioritized, and sometimes removed.

But this is only because God, our Heavenly Father, loves us and wants what is best for us.  I know that can sound so trite, but the more I am challenged by God and stretched, the more I see that.  God’s “laws” are put in place to give us freedom and life.  When God tells us to not get drunk, our human flesh hears a law, a boundary, a no.  But, God tells us not to get drunk because bad things can happen when we are drunk!  We can get in a car accident, make very bad decisions, do things with people we wouldn’t normally do that with, say things we regret, etc.  God’s “law” of don’t get drunk is to protect us and give us freedom to live a life free of the things mentioned above.

This is how I want to read the Bible.  I want to remember that God’s commands, His stories, His Word is like sweet decadent food and sweet drinks.

How do you view the Bible?  What do you associate with what God tells us to do?

Inevitably, I will touch my toes between 3-5 times on average per week. This act of dexterity doesn’t happen at Vinyasa Yoga or at any sort of sporting event. It usually takes place between 11pm-3am at a local pub, club, house party, tailgate or any other purely social gathering.

It wasn’t always this way. A year ago, the only thing my fingers grazed the ground for while out with friends, was to pick up my cell phone or credit card or a small wad of cash, which would consistently tumble out of my hastily organized clutch with pristine accurary, as if my level of inebriation was being tested while I attempted to shuffle along to another generic Top 40 hit.

And it is exactly what it sounds like. Let me paint a picture. I’m standing in a crowded room with friends, nursing a vodka soda. We are shouting at each other over the music. We are talking about our next drink, while still consuming the present one. We are talking about sex sparing no detail when it comes to size, dirty talk, hair, positions, orgasm faces, getting or giving the shocker, moaning vs. groaning, and morning after awkwardness. Its at no particular time that I feel the familiar compulsion come over me. The inexplicable need to TOUCH MY TOES. Handing a friend my drink or settling it down on any hard surface I can spot, I deftly perform the act and go back to my conversation. The entire thing lasts between 15-25 seconds.

In the beginning, there were complications that would often impede the process. Puzzled looks, eyebrows furrowed, questions asked, comments made, answers demanded. “If you think that attractive or cute, its not,” declared one friend. “Your ass keeps knocking over people’s drinks, and its mortifying,” fired another. But mostly people wanted to know WHY. It was weird. Stupid. Creepy even.

It’s not exactly a mating call, conversation starter or really even an attention grabbing move (though if any of the aforementioned came out of it, its not unwelcome). Its just something I do for me. It doesn’t make sense. I know this. In fact, for a long time, I didn’t even know why I was doing it.

I was mid-touch one night when I realized that it JUST FELT GOOD. And that was it. And for some odd reason it made the night a little bit better.

As for my friends. They get it and they don’t get it. They accept it. They don’t accept it. I still do it.

The little picadillos we all have that make us so uniquely and tragically human, define who we are. It’s completely cheesy, cliche, commonplace, hackneyed and trite to say but it really is the little things. It’s the tiny, insignificant things that we remember and we grow to like ourselves more when accept them.

Its the same reason I have been avoiding writing this blog for so many reasons. Scared that I wouldn’t have anything to say,  or too much to say, or that people wouldn’t like what I did have to say. Scared of others opinions being forced or me, or scared that no one will even be reading. And aren’t we all scared of honesty? Being vulnerable gives me adrenaline and makes me sick at the same time.

Anyway, here it is. I’m a girl, I’m in my 20’s. It’s life in DC. And these are my stories.

Fear has a way of creeping up inside of us and taking a stronghold, whether or not we’re aware it’s there.

I can think of a million times in my life where fear has interfered with me going after what I wanted.  But since I overcame my biggest fear – going it alone – back when I got divorced,  I’ve taken a new approach toward fear: I tell it to go suck an egg.  I have taken my life into my own hands and I go after my dreams, whatever they may be.  Sure, there are obstacles to overcome in every situation.  There are challenges and set backs, but I’ve come to find that in the defeat of the worst enemy, fear, anything is possible.

Fear is something that must be overcome in each individual situation; it presents itself as a challenge – a challenge to eliminate it and break free from its restraints.  Only by overcoming fear, can we benefit from its absence.  When fear is not present as I embark upon a challenge, it is for one of two reasons: 1.  I’ve been there/done that and am confident in my ability to do it again.  2. It doesn’t matter enough to me to allow the fear to manifest.  Therefore, my biggest achievements and moments of most personal growth are the result of overcoming fear, not just the absence of fear.

When fear is present, I turn it into a catapult.  Rather than allowing it to hold me back, I use it to launch me forward.  It is amazing what you can do in the face of fear if you view it that way!  I’ve left an unhappy marriage to build a life I desire, I’ve landed a job with more responsibility and pay than I’ve ever had, I’ve sung karaoke in public, I’ve walked 40 miles to advance breast cancer research and treatment, I’ve started this blog to pursue a writing career.  All of these accomplishments are things that I would not be nearly as proud of if they hadn’t been reached in the face of fear.

I have come to welcome fear, because it feels so good to kick it’s ass!

What have you accomplished in the face of fear?

Related posts on MLI:

My Journey of Self Repair and Renewal

Old Lauren

Change Motivation

The good collegiate greek makes the organization more-so than the organization making them.

Ok before I go into my greek spill, I’m going to set the parameters and let you know a little a bit about myself.

I’m a proud member of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. Hailing from the ‘GQ’ Zeta Mu chapter. Spring 2009 initiate. This ‘Go-In’ will be about NPHC greek life in general.

Double/Triple Nalia
Well the deal with this is, too much nalia is just a bad look. You ever seen somebody with a full Sean Jean out fit with the hat and the shoes to match (does he have shoes?) With a SJ watch with the cologne and the SJ headband…ENOUGH! lol Well, I have been a victim to the Double Nalia rule and some say that it’s because I’m a neo, but real talk, I could care less about having my frat on a wristband and the chain to go with it. If anyone from the greek fashion police wants to come fine me, then come write the ticket and stick it in ya wind pipes.

But what I will say is that there is such thing as doing too much. Like having your jacket, tiki, and wristbands may be too much. Straight to the point tho…it doesn’t really matter! Do what you feel but realize that you will be amongst those that will pick on you, should you decide to come out of the house looking like Zeus’ Closet…lol!

I’m an Interest! Help!
Well this is a touchy topic so I won’t speak for every fraternity or sorority, but I will say this. Discretion is key! I cannot tell you how it makes me feel when someone tells all their friends what they want to be. Going into a fraternity or sorority, at least for the NPHC, we want to be able to help mold young scholars and have you be appreciated for the choosing of your fraternity/sorority when/if that time comes up.

Be professional about things. If you’re going to get to know people, get to know them for non-superficial reasons. I don’t feel like talking about Alpha all the time because every waking moment of my being isn’t focused on Alpha!

Everyone makes mistakes, but this is the thing…it’s about your reactions and sincerity.
That’s all I want to talk about on that issue.

The Lost Purpose…
Ok, so here’s the thing, we’re not black folks being sprayed with water hoses or having our houses being burned down or even those that are being spit on in these day and ages (well not as much as in past years). We have progressed, but yet our cause is different now, and it is up to the fraternities and sororities, who I believe to be head of the black community to set the example and notice this shift in causes.

When those that came before me were amongst the ranks of my fellow brother Martin Luther King in his stand to fight against injustices against our people, we stood strong. We had a commonality that did not stand on individuality, but a group-mentality (poet). We must find that same passion to stick together in our uplift. It doesn’t matter about the Black and Golds, the Crimson and Creams, the Whites and Blues, Gold and Browns, Yellows and Blues, etc. it matters more specifically the brown-skinned that are the same regardless of any process or matriculation through college and more generally, the people who have been oppressed in a society that is slowly assimilating to this euro centric behavior of ‘ME-ME-ME’.

The issue today I believe that we as greeks can stand firm on and grow on is a strong building of morals and instructions that we can agree on. Morals and instructions that we can give to the up and coming generations that have lost the connection to their roots as black people. Right now, there are more “good” women in college than “good” men. The ratio is horrible and we have done nothing to help that ratio balance out by challenging these young men to be better. It’s on both fraternities and sororities b/c the men perpetuate the ratio by not teaching, and the sororities for accepting the stigma of more good women than good men.

We set the example. We need to find a way to respect each other’s differences in that we are different fraternities and sororities but accept the fact that common ground of love and determination on these causes must be pushed for or the generation will come up confused and wonder, “What is the purpose of Greek Life?” – and then there will BE no more Greek Life…

Greek Unity

Why do greeks stay broke?!
This question was brought up by two friends of mine. The answer simply is that when you become greek, you tend to be in the spotlight more, so there for you may want to spend more money on clothes, outings, and other frivolities that constitute  a life of perceived “fame and fortune” lol Or just maybe that person has more responsibilities such as rent, insurance, school, outings with the organization, phone bills, etc. Or all of this combined. Greek life can get crazy especially when you travel a lot, so it tends to expunge a bank account lol. #peerpressure times 10!

Being Greek and in a Relationship
“When he crossed, he got real distant….and when she crossed, she started acting brand new…” – anonymous
So the infamous relationship issues involving greek members is simply this: People change to find themselves or try new things. You can either accept it or deny it and hurt yourself more. Feelings will be hurt and there is nothing you can do to soften the blow of a breakup directly related to going greek. Often times people don’t understand the time commitment, the new relationships with people, or even the change in morals. Remember to always place yourself in someone elses shoes (that goes for both people) Communication is the key! Be real, be honest, and be swift – no need to drag out feelings, it’s ruthless.

The End
There are plenty more topics of Greek life that I would like to talk about but honestly I have not the time to talk about it. But feel free to ask me my opinion and I will gladly give it to you!

Follow me… @sorandom3

Now don’t worry folks, I don’t mean I am taking singing lessons. That would be a nightmare since I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
I was driving to Bowling Green the other night and Meatloaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” came on and I was singing it as loud as I could, because of course my mother force-fed me Meatloaf since I was old enough to appreciate him as 1. an amazing talent, 2. the bus driver in Spice World, 3. Eddie from Rocky Horror Picture Show, 4. the ugliest man of my dreams ever, when it hit me. What the hell was I doing singing this song when I was in elementary school?

Think about it. The song is a documentation of two people doing it in a car when they are 16. The girl is hesitant, and he is just about to slide into home base when she says STOP RIGHT THERE (dun dun dun) and she has to know if he will love her forever. He says let me sleep on it (baby, baby) and she is pressuring him to make the promise. He says he’ll love her until the end of time, and then the end of the song says “SO now I’m praying for the end of time … so I can end my time with you.” WHAT?!

My mother made me listen to this song when I was young, most likely at a time when I am most easily influenced. Meatloaf taught me lessons that kids should never be taught.

The list
1. Have sex in a car. Because clearly it’s classy and let’s face it, car sex and high school go hand in hand for some people like Sierra Mist and dancing men in lime green jumpsuits.
2. Have car sex, just before you’re 17 when you are still young and can pop the top of the sexual Pringles can early.
3. Always compare sex to baseball, and when you are doing it, make sure you have an announcer in the background doing a play-by-play.
4. Make false promises to score. Like never regretting it, or the whole being together til the end of time thing.
5. Still sleep with the guy, even after when you ask him if he will love you until the end of time, he says “let me sleep on it.” Because his hesitation to spending the rest of his life with someone is hot and a guaranteed panty dropper.

Luckily, other songs have taught me values which cancel out this songs. But really, mom, you let me listen to this song when I was how old? It’s like watching a movie when you’re a kid and then re-watching it when you are older and you think to yourself “how could my parents ever let me watch this?!”

Stars Are Made:

What I’m beginning to realize is that we really have to stop caring what everyone else thinks.  People are fucked up.  The only reason people are given the title of Star or Professional is because someone decided to say they were.  How did someone get this right?  Did they deserve it?  What Did they do to deserve it?

What I like about the plot of 2081 is that it shows the majority’s dictation of acceptable is terribly skewed.  The exceptional are disabled.

I like to think about two different Ideas:  What would my handicaps be?  Which Character do I recognize as myself:

What Would My Handicaps Be?:

This question makes you focus on all the things that make you amazing.  Things that you can do slightly better than other people because handicaps are given at varying degrees you can focus on even the most minuet example of being extraordinary.

Which Character Do I recognize as Myself:

The Father- given up on the battle for being extraordinary

Harrison- never giving up

The Ballerina- waiting for someone to come along and help you

Please notice I only look at the characters who are exceptional.  We are all exceptional in some aspect.

Lately:

I’ve been struggling with feelings of solitude and isolation.  I feel disconnected from other individuals.  For some reason I am still internalizing romantic ideas about finding the perfect someone.

I want to hear you say
Who I am is quite enough
Just want to be worthy of love
And beautiful

For some reason I am always attempting to get obtain my self-worth from other people.  This is probably the main reason that I hate people: I am unable to get them to keep their attention.  After a while it is time for them to move on and find something better.

For those of you who follow my life, meaning my blog, twitter, or facebook.  I am constantly asking questions about what real is and purposes in life.

Perfect: I Want To Be Quite Enough

Perfection is a big deal in my life.  I am constantly trying to be perfect at things.  Why bother working on something if you can’t create a final, ideal product?  Being perfect is obviously ridiculous ideal to attempt to obtain.  It obviously drives me crazy because I am waiting for completion of the activity.

But in today’s society it is what we strive for.  We are a culture which strives on competition.  To out compete the best we are going to have to be perfect.  The perfect grades, the perfect body, the perfect idea..

Public Sphere:

I was instilled with this idea of obtaining the highest grades by my parents.  I was once told that if I got a C I would be grounded, even though a C was average, because “You are not average,” said my Mother.

Which, I guess, is good to instill in your children.  That they are some exceptional being able to achieve anything they set out to do.  However, this was later followed by stern suggestions to go into a practical career.  I once wanted to be a musician, when I was 6 I wanted to do gymnastics, I wanted to be an artist.  Those things, inevitably, got pushed to the side; they are only accepted as a hobby.

I have to be intelligent enough to get into a good school.  So I can get a good job.  So I can buy everything I need.  So I can have the resources to do the things I love.

Most of the time when I’m at work we decide what time we want to get out.  I feel that when a superior says a certain time I am not able to utilize resources and time as they expect me too; making me feel inadequate in my thinking and ability.  I never make their time.

If not achieved I feel like a let down to the people.  You can only say something is perfect if someone acknowledges it.  Based off the idea of the Looking Glass Self: We present ourselves, others give feed back, and we alter the negatives.  As a social organism we can not really separate ourselves from the outside lens.

Physical: We Can Beat Genetics Adopting New Aesthetics For Beautiful Bodies, Figures Ever So Slender

For some reason I internalized this idea that I had to be physically perfect.  But what does physically perfect mean.  One time I got told my testicles are perfect.  I don’t know what that means actually, but I do know that it is the only time that I have ever been perfect.  But my testicles are less than perfect:

Team Fierce-  Chris and Christian were once placed on a team during an episode of one of the seasons of Project Runway.  These are also the names of my testicles because obviously perfect= fierce.  Christian is my left testicle even though my left testicle is the biggest.  Christian makes the most commotion out of the two.  And Chris is just the accessory to Christians dominance.

Anyways, I was once chubby.  I was too slow at tag that I always had to be it at recess because I couldn’t catch anyone else.  Let’s also admit that physical attractiveness is huge in the gay culture.  And if I wanted to be attractive I would need to be physically attractive.  But attractiveness is very complex ie the study that resulted in the significant findings that you are attracted to people at your attractiveness level.

I’m obviously terribly confused then.  Because I want what I can’t have.  But how was I supposed to love myself if I can’t find myself attractive.  It is a vicious cycle.  I spent years trying to find what made me attractive to others; I wanted to see it, but that only made me focus on what is wrong with myself.  So I focused on things that didn’t make me happy.

Talent:  I Cannot Keep Their Attention

The perfect idea, to be creative, to be gifted, the ultimate in perfection.  To be completely something that no one else can be: unique and perfect.  I’m so attracted to talent that it kills me.  It is probably the most narcissistic thing about me, that I believe I can be with someone who is exceptional. But that’s odd, I automatically assume that they are out of my reach and unattainable by someone like myself because I am less than perfect.  The reason why he is the person I wish I could go after.

Intimidation is a big deal.  It is all about fear.

Happy

Perfect is not who anyone is.  Remember what it felt like?  To be happy to be real?  It was when I was cleaning my room.  No one is watching.  No one is coming over.  It was for myself.  That I was paying attention to my own needs.

Remember when you were improving and you smiled.  It was so self-indulgent so real.  Your movement was on your own accord.  Your eyes were shut and no one else was in the room.  It didn’t matter if it was beautiful to anyone else in the room.

-EPF

[yes, the title is a quote from Beyonce's song, but it's been stuck in my head for months and I'm eternally grateful to Aparna for finding it for me]

At periodic intervals, the Universe seems inclined to play a practical joke on me that highlights just how much of an idiot I can be at living in the real world. First, Soumya and I put off applying for an Irish visa till the last possible moment and now our fantastic, wild and utterly enjoyable two-week winter vacation in the land of the most attractive accent in the world might just not happen.

In order to bypass this awful eventuality, we pulled our socks up and got all our documentation together this Thursday, and told ourselves we’d post our packages of love to the Embassy in London on Friday, latest. In pursuit of this laudable goal, I walked over to my bank to make a bank draft for the ridiculous amount of 53 pounds towards my visa fees. Confronted by a cute bank clerk, I did a number of stupid things like drop my card into the wrong slot, ask if I could make a postal order at the bank (he ironically pointed out that no, postal orders are usually made-insert patronising smile-at the post office) and giggle a lot every time he said something, instead of making a comment worthy of my razor wit.

After that, I rushed off to pick up my letter from the University guaranteeing my return to the UK to finish my course (for some reason, Irish Immigration Services seem to think that anyone travelling to Ireland would not wish to return to the outside world), and then walked to the dodgy street where the nearest Post Office was situated. While at the post office, I asked the postcard/gift shop counter lady where I could buy a special delivery envelope, and wanted to smack myself when she (also ironically) told me to go to the Post Office counter. Once there, I paid for the envelopes, and walked over to the table to address them, went back to the counter to give them to the lady, and walked out of the door feeling very adult for having done all of this without a single mishap.

Until, ten steps down the street, I realised my bag was suspiciously light, and realised I was missing my rather large wallet. I went back, hoping I’d find it magically waiting on the table at the Post Office, but no, my guardian angel seemed to have deserted me and I was forced to come to the conclusion that someone had taken advantage of my trusting simplicity (in leaving the damn thing on the table) and swiped it.

The irony of this is that in 20 years, I’ve never had anything stolen in India, that bastion of pickpockets and thieves – according to the guidebooks anyway.

On the way home, I texted and called the various people I could count on for comfort, cancelled my credit and debit cards, and rejoiced at the realization that my wallet had no money in it anyway, so take that bastard!

I am now wallet-less, but the bank people kindly ordered me a new debit card and drew 30 pounds from my account to tide me over, despite the fact that the only id I had was that the cute bank teller recognised me (probably as the idiotic Indian girl), and I had a brand new new University id card in twenty minutes, albeit leaving me 6 pounds poorer.

Meh!

I was appalled when I learned that the number of “presidentiables” or those who filed their CoCs to run for the next president of the country totaled 99! My reaction was really “OMG”. Ganito ka-desperate ang mga Filipinos to replace Gloria that a lot of people are presenting themselves to be chosen as the next president. Most of these are obviously just nuisance candidates since a lot of them were even unheard of. Not that I am discriminating against those who are not popular but its really funny to have a lot (even too much, grabe 99!) of choices for one single position. I think its a first in the history of the world to have a lot of candidates for a single position..parang comedy..haha ^_^

But kidding aside, I realized that a lot of people in this country really still care for the nation. In the internet there are a lot of forums pushing for the candidates that they want to win. Even in Facebook, the famous social networking site, a lot of my online friends are posting stuff about their candidate. I respect them a lot, at least they’re not being apathetic.

But I also realized one thing, we must harness our energies on the right cause, in the right direction, that is, we should support the best and nothing less than the best. Somebody posted on a forum that we should vote for this one particular candidate because he is a good leader. but I had only one answer, I WOULD NEVER SETTLE FOR THE GOOD. I love my country and I only want the BEST for my country.

The enemy of the best is not the bad, but the good. I believe that Bro. Eddie Villanueva is the BEST person to lead our country in this time of our nation’s history. No matter what the critics say or all the other people say, I am a Filipino who would only choose the best. And that is Brother Eddie.

First, before I get started, I just want to say how absolutely thrilled I am to be home!! Sleeping in my own bed last night was just like Heaven! Now moving on.

Remember that one time when I first started my blog? Yeah, way back when after I wrote a post entitled Cancer does not know deserving? I had told you that while no one listed in that particular post actually deserved to get cancer itself, they most certainly deserved a life altering experience because their past (and current) behaviors at that time were in need of a good shaking up. They were in desperate need of a personality make-over because the people they present themselves as are, well for lack of a better term, they’re assholes.

I will admit however, that as of now one of those people has been showing a lot of behaviors that move towards a more mature, and selfless mind (I can guarantee you though that it isn’t Julie).

Last night on the BlogCatalog.com discussion groups, I had this genius of a guy (note: emphasize the sarcasm on genius) named Drjay1966 insult me in a forum. Now typically, just because you insult me in some online forum, doesn’t mean I’m going to put you on public blast in a blog post. Chances are, if I actually take the time call you out (no matter what the reason), you either said or did something seriously rude to me. I mean really, really rude.

Like Drjay1966 for example! There was a post in one of the discussions regarding suicide (Suicide: Bravery or Cowardly?), and I left my thoughts on there (to sum it up, I wrote that I thought suicide is selfish because the person committing suicide doesn’t realize that there’s always someone out there who has it worse off). After everything I’ve been through, I know this all too well, so that was my heartfelt take on it.

So this genius responds with (and I quote): “Are those the only choices? How about a reaction to unbearable pain?”

My response: “A reaction to unbearable pain? So are you telling me I should’ve considered suicide as an option when I was diagnosed at stage 4 cancer? Wow, that sure is optimistic of you to think that way. Not….”

Then the douchebag has the nerve to say (and I quote, as in I copied and pasted): “No, I’m not saying anybody should do anything. I’m saying people do consider it, and do it, because they feel unbearable pain, which, apparently, you didn’t. We all experience things in different ways. And you might try experiencing a little compassion.”

Holy shit I almost hit the roof! The nerve this sniveling little prick has to 1) assume I have not once been in unbearable emotional and physical pain from my ordeal since May (not to mention having to watch my family and friends’ hearts break over this) and 2) that he assumes I have absolutely no compassion whatsoever.

Needless to say, I said a few choice words to put that asshole in his place! Hopefully the naive little shitbag will now crawl away into some blog hole somewhere and disappear so no other people who have experienced real pain have to worry about his ignorance ever again. This is officially one more person who I think could use a life-altering change, whether it be cancer or whatever else may bring you face to face with your mortality in order to make you a better person.

With all that aside, I fully plan on spending my first full day home from the hospital today relaxing and taking it easy. Maybe I’ll also go for a quick bike ride. Hopefully I’ll get my scan results by tomorrow (I’m starting to worry a little as to why I haven’t been updated on them yet).

Waking up in the morning, looking out side to find snow falling. It’s a good feeling. Then you walk downstairs make yourself a cup of hot coco with extra whip cream. Those are the things you do in winter.

Now winter…that’s the season where you feel like you want romance in your life. Winter is a time for couples to snuggle together and hold each other to keep warm. But that’s a stereotype. And stereotypes are wrong!

Winter is a time where you can go out with your friends and chat over coffee. Either a frappachino or something cold. Just kidding~ Any drinks from lattes to wine. You can also spend close quality family time. If not. Take some time for yourself. Get a good book. Rent a good movie. Do what makes you happy. Watch the snow fall and melt on the ground. Don’t pout if it doesn’t stick. It’ll pile up…hopefully…For you who have lovers. Good for you! ^-^

So why am I saying this? Because I need to vent. Convince myself otherwise because I do not need a man to keep me company. Not even my semi-ex-boyfriend. Ugh. Now he’s a long story (pst. if he’s reading this. then my bad~). Aight well anyway. Happy winter. Keep in touch. ;]

Now…my attempt to edit breathtaking or gagging photos. ;]

As many of you know, I’ve always wanted an MBA.

Ever since.

It’s been my dream ever since I was in college, but I figured that I had to work 2 years or so to be eligible for the program.

However, things happen as they always do.

I was transferred to Taiwan to study Mandarin. Figured I was already in Taiwan with no work experience, and though my tenure was simply a year, extended for another half and tried to find a job.

Got my first job at a leading Taiwanese PC company. It was a stable 9am to 5pm job where I learned that I LOVED traveling. It was kinda boring but paid for the bills more than whatever I’ll get from the Philippines. Hello, financial freedom!

I developed an organization from boredom but blossomed from a regular attendance of 20 people to 80 at its peak. We did around 80 projects or so before I “retired,” which kept me busy for a year and a half.

Worked on my second job, at a bank. Sheesh, how ironic can life be? Worked my ass off.

Transferred to Hong Kong when I was becoming bored and was placed in the peak of the recession where everyone was afraid for their jobs. My own line manager got fired a week after I arrived. Sad.

I was one of those that figured, “Hey, if they fired me but gave me a nice golden severance package, I can apply for business school. If I applied for enough business schools, despite the competition, one of them would want me.”

But they kept me on, and on December 8, I’ll be celebrating my first year anniversary in Hong Kong.

Good and bad, whatever way you look at it.

However, my job in Hong Kong was similar to what I did in Taiwan. And though the scope was slightly different given that it was a more regional undertaking and I found myself helping a lot more of my compadres around Asia, it wasn’t as intellectual stimulating as I wish it would be.

Hence, I am as always, very appreciative of my current employer. The energy is electrifying in the office and admittedly, there are many research reports and technical click-click resources for me to learn from.  Nonetheless, given just how busy I am at work since everyone’s problem becomes my problem, I don’t really have the time to read them!

When I got together with Trader, I still envisioned my MBA dream.

However, when I shared him about my current dream to get an MBA in one of the stellar schools, namely Wharton, NYU, Columbia or LBS, his eyes teared up. “Many couples try their best to be closer together, so why are you trying to move even further?”

So yes, despite his many good qualities, my lovely boyfriend disapproved of my dream.

His intuition tells him that the moment I move away for an MBA, the risks of us breaking up substantially increases.

This meant us being apart in most likely two different time zones. Us living different lives and growing apart. And lastly, knowing me, I’d successfully finding a job at a region where I took an MBA and basically, never go back to Asia where he is contently residing.

Note that we are currently in a serious  long distance relationship with him in Singapore and myself in Hong Kong.

“But it’s MY DREAM!” I wanted to scream. Of course, given that I’ve harboured this dream for a long time, it was a really big sacrifice for me to give up my dream.

Of course, I talked to the sage about it. Sage being my traditional mom.

She said that life was unfair and was about choices. For women, we have an expiry date, and basically, if I chose an MBA, I was choosing my career instead of a chance of a family. “If you already have a decent man who loves you, why risk that?”

My mom seriously believes that if I moved to the US or London for an MBA, Trader and I would break apart.

Just to clarify, my mom was in no way against having an MBA. However, I am already 29 she said and given my 8 years of fun and freedom, needed to settle down.

I disagree with her with the expiry date. In Taiwan, it was quite common to see unmarried 30 year olds and usually it was unthinkable to marry too early unless you didn’t really have too much options or you had an accident. Divorces were quite high there too at a wowsa rate of 50%. So I didn’t really felt threatened about the age factor.

What I did agree with was the fact that an MBA would change me.

In many ways dear readers, your author is a chameleon.

My accent is heavily influenced with my current residence. In Taiwan, it subconsciously morphed into a weird yet charming Japanese/American accent that made me stand out from most Filipino-Chinese, even my own family members.

I love changes and don’t really mind not holding onto friends. Having lived in Taiwan and Hong Kong where most people never stayed for 2 years, life taught me to expect changes and be fine with it. “Friends come and go,” I thought.

It was a very lonely way to live because there’s no sense of permanence in one’s life. Everyone was a variable. People left, changed and yes, that was fine. It was funny that on my annual birthdays, my guest list were almost always different, and most really don’t even know about each other.

“You don’t have a barkada (steady group of friends you always hang out with), huh?” Trader asked me last week. “I just noticed it how your friends always change.”

It wasn’t the greatest secret in the world and yet he took 6 months plus to notice it. Ha, the bliss of being in a relationship – that sense of constant discovery.

“Yes, and I don’t mind,” I replied.

For me, friends are great to the phase of life that you’re in, and much time and energy are spent nurturing these friendships. But, some of them will leave, and though it’s sad to see them leave, it’s fine. Them moving onto another phase of their lives (which usually happens when they move, get married or have babies) may change the intensity of your friendships (e.g., you’ll not be too close), it won’t change the fact that you’re friends.

Hence, you’ll still be friends but not as great a friends as before, but that’s okay.

And though it may take some time, you’ll find new ones.

Meanwhile, Trader has kept his own steady set of friends for years. His friends back home originate from his high school years. He has maintained the same set of friends in Singapore and the Philippines and does everything with them.

Also, he embraces stability. Trader can eat the same dish for weeks at a time, or stay home and read a book or do his chores every day without complain.

Your author on the other hand embraces change.

“Let me guess, you’re doing something this weekend, right?” Trader asked me this Friday. He was spending this weekend in the Philippines visiting family.

“How can you say that?!” I said. “That’s just presumptuous that I’d be out and about instead of staying at home and reading a book!”

“But that’s who you are,” he explained. “You’re the woman who just can’t stay put.”

He’s right of course, but I have a tendency to be stubborn and not really agree on the get go. Not a positive feature, am sure.

So now that my MBA (not my body) clock is ticking, I am placed at the crossroads. Should I follow my dream, or should I listen to my mom and Trader?

I think maybe there’s a win-win situation. If you rack your head and be open-minded enough, there are usually other options out there. Which brings us to what I did yesterday.

I went to HKUST to inquire about their MBA program.

It was pretty good — an introduction to their program in the morning followed by a campus tour, then lunch and a free sample class from one of their better teachers.

The campus was also quite nice. The university combines both the undergraduate and MBA programs so the energy was quite dynamic. The location was at Clearwater Bay which made the environment quite serene to be in:

Maybe I can still follow my dream though changing it a little bit to calm my parents and my boyfriend’s nerves. If I did it in Asia, I’ll be able to still pursue my dream yet be close enough and more accesible to them for them not to worry.

Takeaways from yesterday’s visit, HKUST program seems to be quite good. They have a stronger finance bias, which was exactly what I wanted, and would give me the chance to do an exchange with NYU, LBS or Columbia, schools that I’m also interested in. This would give me the chance to study abroad as well though in a shorter period.

The application period is a bit too tight given that it comes in two weeks, but I may give the second round a shot. If so, that’s a very good win-win situation.

I’m quite excited. Maybe my MBA dreams still do have a chance in coming true!

We’ll keep you posted. Hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend!

To get the title, you have to know what happened to me and some friends this past weekend. I mentioned in a previous post that we were going to a mall to hand out some Gospels I ordered from the Pocket Testament League. Well, it turns out you have to be careful because the mall is private property and you aren’t supposed to “solicit”. I didn’t see any signs that said “no soliciting”, but I knew there was a chance we’d be asked to leave. We all went in not knowing what to do (this was our first time doing something like this). One of my friends went right into a barbershop and started handing them out there and I went out in the open and handed out one.

Now, I was nervous, but excited too. I was not thinking, I was just handing out the Gospels to anyone I saw. Up came a security guard and it was his lucky turn, however, I didn’t realize what I was doing until I handed the tract to him. By then it was too late and he told me I can’t hand them out. I was mad. I was dissapointed, but I didn’t press the matter any further. However, I do want to raise the point that I don’t believe what we we’re doing was any form of solicitation. I was handing out the Gospels for free, I wasn’t bothering anyone, I wasn’t loud, obnoxious, or rude, I wasn’t doing it for any promotion, and I wasn’t making any money off of it (in fact, I lost money in the deal). So, I really don’t see how I was soliciting or even being a nuisance. But I wonder…would they have let me go if I was handing out fliers that said we needed to be tolerant towards Muslims.

So, my advice is if you are going to a mall to hand out tracts, don’t give one to a security guard…well, you could and you should, but you probably will be asked to leave/stop/get out. Where’s the tolerance in that?

As parents we can only point our children in the right direction and trust they find happiness, love, and faith in what every they choose to do. We can only pray that they will become productive and compassionate in today’s world. There are so many outside forces that can lead them astray.

I can safely say, without hesitation, that the next generation of our family has learned lessons in life by examples. This morning MacGyver went up to our local town’s café for a pancake. He watched from the window of the café, a stranger and his dog who stopped several people leaving the café. MacGyver finished his pancake and left the café and was also approached by this stranger who asked him if he would be kind enough to jump start his van.

You see this man apparently had asked several people for help in starting his van but was denied. For MacGyver or his two brothers, it is a naturally thing to help a stranger, friend or family. They were raised by example, and they have raised their four children the same way.

We have set the course of directions for them all, and if they teach those lessons to their children our job, here was not in vain.

If I had a son or daughter I would like them to do well in life.  While scholarly instruction is a time-tested means of teaching and learning information, I’ve come to believe that there is no substitute for real-life experience, i.e. action and self-discovery.  But action and self-discovery need to be tempered with good judgment.  With that in mind, when my child reached a certain age of understanding, I would like to make a gift of ten books that I believe would help develop skills and understandings that years of traditional curriculum might likely fail to deliver.  These books touch on fundamental life concepts of action, empathy, being genuine, decision-making, communication, persuasion, rapport, and avoiding mistakes.  In no particular order, here they are, with room for one to make a rounded ten:

  The Snowball – Warren Buffett and the Business of Life by Alice Schroeder;

  Influence: The Psychology of Persuasion and Influence: Science and Practice, both by Robert Cialdini, PhD;

  The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins;

  Acting In by Adam Blatner, MD;

  Emotional Intelligence and Social Intelligence, both by Daniel Goleman;

  How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie;

  The Inner Game of Tennis by W. Timothy Gallwey.

There are no books here on spiritual matters.  That’s because the subject is huge and hugely personal.  I’d want my child to make those discoveries for him or herself.   Still, if there is something you recommend to fill that tenth spot then please share.  Also, please feel free to comment and suggest any of your own favorites on any topic, fiction or non-fiction.

Or is it?

When I was a kid, all the way through high school, I had teachers in different classes do projects and tell the class that we need to conserve water.

I remember my German language teacher in high school, Frau Brown, said “If you take a shower that’s longer than five minutes, you’re wasting water.”

In elementary school, it was even worse (or better?).  This was in 1978, just asfter the gas crisis, just after the hippie revolution.  Earth Day was started as an annual event just 8 years before.  Everyone was very Earth-conscious.

We had projects on how to read electric meters, and what kWh meant.  We were told to turn off the water while brushing our teeth, and to turn off lights when leaving a room.

All of that still remains with me.  I still go around my apartment turning off lights in areas where no one needs them on (my roommates leave their lights on sometimes).  It borders on compulsive.

The other day, I worked out really really hard.  I was beat.  I got home and thought “a nice hot shower will help me.”  So I took one.  And it went on for more than five minutes.

It dawned on me suddenly, as I was standing under the hot water, feeling my muscles relax.  I became a little anxious.  What was I doing, wasting all of this water?!!!

Then another thought popped into my head.

I’m not the only consumer of water, I mused.  In fact, individuals probably aren’t even the biggest consumers of water.

What about all of those factories out there?  So I started to dig around a bit.

To quote one article:

“USGS hydrologist Molly Maupin says, “We know that petroleum refineries and paper and pulp mills, as well as steel manufacturing facilities, are known to use an awful lot of water.” But even more significant, in many cases, is the effect on underground aquifers, lakes, or rivers that aren’t directly used in the manufacturing. Effluent and wastewater discharged from industries and mining operations — or leaking from inadequate waste and industrial storage facilities — can contaminate large amounts of groundwater or surface water.”

Basically, was I destroying the planet, and its fresh water stores, with my longer-than-five-minutes bath, or was there a bigger picture to consider?

Once I began to read more about this issue, it became very clear that our Subject/Object worldview had struck again.  The message of water conservation had naturally become neatly packaged into a “personal responsibility” issue – as all issues do in our culture.

Take, for instance, the recent change from corporate-funded retirement programs to “individually-funded” programs like 401k.  Now it is the individual’s responsibility to prepare for their future.

Or, we can begin a similar debate about oil/fuel consumption – are private individuals really the biggest consumers of oil/fuel?  I don’t think so:

“Yes, the US military is completely addicted to oil. Unsurprisingly, its oil consumption for aircraft, ships, ground vehicles and facilities makes the Pentagon the single largest oil consumer in the world. By the way, according to the 2006 CIA World Factbook rankings there are only 35 countries (out of 210) in the world that consume more oil per day than the Pentagon.” (for this great article, click here).

To use an old idiom – our society is talking out of both sides of its mouth.

Telling the consumer that they need to purchase hybrid vehicles, when the factories that produce those vehicles run on and use petroleum and petroleum-based products is ludicrous.

Telling people that we need to go to the Middle East to “defend freedom” and secure the world’s oil supply for the good of all men, women, and children, is similarly ridiculous.

Telling individuals that they need to conserve water, while factories churn through it at rates far exceeding that of any individual or group of individuals is in this same category.

Not to mention the types of compounds that are being flushed out as waste from factories, versus from private dwellings.  The only thing going down my drain is soap and dirt.  What’s coming out of the effluent pipes on a factory?

Now, this is not to say that the individual “consumer” doesn’t have an impact on water usage.  For one, you shouldn’t use or take more than you need.  It just doesn’t make sense, for you or for the entire world of which you are a small, continuous, part.  For another, you decide consumption of things by your choices…or “buy” your choices…you decide how many factories continue to run on a daily basis.

All of this goes back to culture, though.

The accepted mode is to buy things.  I’ve been stunned going into local stores (even the grocery store) in the past week.  They’re all packed.  At first, I didn’t know what was going on.  I thought maybe there was some sort of emergency I hadn’t heard about.  Then someone told me they were going “Christmas shopping” and I realized what was up.

The thrust of our society is a Production/Consumption cycle.  This production/consumption cycle is built over an underlying dichotomy of Self/Other, or Subject/Object.  We base everything of “value” on this framework, and within that context, over the framework.  If something doesn’t fit into this, it is rejected outright.

And the Vox Popularis always wins.

But what about fitness, isn’t this a fitness blog?!

Well, ok, if I must.  But if you haven’t realized it by now, the definition of “fitness” as something separate from the environment you live in – the context or habitat you inhabit, as separate from the Earth, the Land, and the rest of the beings on it – is something I’m trying to explicate on this blog.

Fitness is similarly subject to this dialectic – Self/Other, Produce/Consume.  Fitness in our culture is about oneself.  About the way one looks, or how much one can bench press – as compared to an (idealized) external Other.

It leads to bizarre notions of “fitness,” and more bizarre products and practices that create a rift between individuals, and between those individuals and their environment.

Put yourself back into context – back into the cycle of things.  You were never separate from it, you just had blinders on.

Life Is Like a Cup of Coffee

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life.

Offering his guests coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups – porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal, some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite – telling them to help themselves to the coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: “If you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups have been taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.

Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the best cups… And then you began eyeing each other’s cups.

Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we live.

Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee. Savor the coffee, not the cups! The happiest people don’t have the best of everything. They just make the best of everything. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly.

–author unknown
http://www.spiritualshortstories.com

What do you think? Do you think the jobs, money, and position in society are just tools to contain life and don’t define, nor change the quality of life we live?

At the end of the day and without calling it the ‘Kenya we want,’ these formless conversations are articulating the illusions of the Kenya we have been living in.  Our hope is to finally break away from rhetoric that tells us we will one day get to cloud nine and yet we don’t have even a ladder today. There are many one liners that are products of these conversations but which we laugh off as witty remarks while failing to appreciate their true meaning. Such lines as “navumilia kuwa Mkenya”, “najihurumia kuwa Mkenya”, “naumia kuwa Mkenya”, are honest opinions of those who utter them and should carry with them the weight that led to their very expression. The emerging one liners that run parallel to new rhetoric such as “Vision 2030 Mission 2012”, “Vision 3020” should not be treated as jokes to be laughed at but as realities to be dealt with. The fact of the matter is that those of us that are proud to be Kenyan are proud in spite of as opposed to because. This means even though tunaumia, tunajihurumia, tunavumilia, bado tunajivunia. To be proud to be Kenyan is not mutually exclusive because it does not negate the fact that we are paying a heavy price for that pride.

Reality check is one of the terms and conditions attached to our pride and we are making that known. The Kenya we want has to deal with the reality of the Kenya we live first and similarly, living Kenyans need to deal with the illusions of the Kenya we have been living in.

For a tethered goat to enjoy the nourishment of new pasture, it must break the rope tied around its neck. As a kid who always invoked his father’s name at the slightest sign of trouble, I was scared to get out his shadow because I feared I would get my ass whopped. But when I emerged from his shadow albeit reluctantly, I realized as someone once wrote that it was my own shadow that was standing in my way. The moment I stepped out on my own was like a new breath of life to me. Earlier, I would only play around the house so that he could hear me when I called for help. But when I learned to fend for myself, suddenly I could go to far away places that I would never have ventured out of fear. And we all got stronger after we learned to stand on our own. And the same goes for Kenya, unless we break from the generation giving us these visions, we will only go as far the outline of their shadows. And given what they have done with this country since independence vis-à-vis other countries, they are a generation of dwarfs and so we only have so far to tether around. Around our necks are ropes that read corruption, tribalism, pillage, our turn to eat, and that is the menu of dwarfs that can only lead to stunted growth. If only we dare cut loose these ropes, we will realize that there is a whole world of opportunities for each of us to exploit. By finally letting our creative juices ooze freely, we will do by 2012 their vision of 2030. If we let the ropes stay, our kids will have to wait until 3020 to see 2030.

But our author moderator whose name I still haven’t recalled was not convinced. He said that death alone should not automatically warrant one a hero status. He asked to be told what people did that they deserved to be remembered for after their deaths. He said that JM had nothing for the people he professed to be speaking for yet he had been in government and was rich enough to make a substantial enough change for his people. He termed JM a populist who just fed people hollow words. But this guy who had arrived a bit late into the tent and sat next to me was not prepared to let that go unchallenged. He interjected and said he was from Nyanza and to establish credibility introduced himself as a grandson of one of those gentlemen who were in the loop back then. He gave us “witness accounts” of what happened behind the scenes on so many things and eventually got around to JM. He said that JM was indeed wealthy and in an effort to further humiliate the government which he had increasingly condemned over the years for creating “10 millionaires and 10 million beggars”, he was planning to give away his tracts of land to squatters. Having got wind of this plan and understanding the precarious position that it would have put the government in, Kenyatta and his henchmen had JM assassinated.

This little piece of information silenced our author friend for a while. But in following with his antihero mentality, I questioned our ability in choosing leaders not only in Kenya but across the continent. Over the years, most people who rose to be presidents of African countries were those perceived to have suffered the most, case in point being ex prisoners like Mandela and Kenyatta. This might as well have been the birth place of sympathy votes. In the end, the majority of such leaders became neocolonialists with colonial mentalities that were upheld by colonial constitutions. Going further, I expressed with contempt my disgust for the founding president, Kenyatta, who at one point referred to the Mau Mau as a disease. What followed shocked me and further entrenched my conviction that a potent question always trumps present understanding. Without asking, my off cuff remark about the founding president had put across a perception that needed clarification. The power of conversations is in their raw, informal, amorphous, unrepentant, uninhibited frameworks which mean no holds barred. There was no holding back what needed to be said in this tent.

My disgust at Kenyatta’s insult directed at the MauMau was met by the same answer from several people almost in unison. They all said “Kenyatta was never Mau Mau!” Who knew? I had on numerous occasions seen him on TV with his unkempt hair and beard proudly proclaiming “Mzungu aende Ulaya, Mwafrika apate Uhuru” and to me that qualified him as party to the Mau Mau rebellion. I even thought that this was the reason he was jailed for the 10 or so years. Though I was yet to read a book that said he was Mau Mau, nothing I had read said he wasn’t Mau Mau including all those history lessons in school. One of those who said Kenyatta was never Mau Mau was this short lady who had all through been quietly listening from the second row. Just to make sure we heard her right, this short, elderly, unassuming, impressively eloquent lady went ahead to tell us that Kenyatta himself was viewed suspiciously by the Mau Mau. She said that he was in fact never privy to what they did or planned to do. I remember people bursting out in laughter when she said that if we had followed Kenyatta’s roadmap for independence, we would still be a British colony. To her, Kenyatta was an opportunist, just a politician who was placed at the helm by elders because the true rebellion leaders were too illiterate to lead the country. She considered him a moderate and just stopped short of calling him a British stooge though she might as well have.

Kantai interjected at this point probably because he felt compelled to give us the bigger picture. He said that before we go ahead with the rebellion theory, we should keep in mind that the much hailed Mau Mau rebellion killed only 32 people during that whole independence struggle. If I had a detachable jaw, instead of it dropping I would have thrown it away. That is how shocked I was. They say that every rumour usually has some truth to it and this is a sacred statement to skeptics like me. Even skeptics usually hope that there is truth to most of what they interrogate and this one of those things I never thought I would hear. Here I was thinking that we fought tooth and nail, through blood sweat and tears like the Vietnamese did against America, and had the British running out of this place in an embarrassing defeat. Apparently not; there was no white flag and running scared and instead, the settlers who left only left after they were paid by a loan that we took as a country from the British Government to buy them out. I do not know about you but if I am fighting with somebody on whom I barely land a punch, and then I take a loan to pay him to leave me alone, I am the coward of the century. And I wouldn’t tell either because that is nothing to write home about. And since few people know about the 32 people casualty or the loan that we are still paying, the government did a pretty good job covering it up. Most people still believe that we valiantly ran the British out.

While I was caught up in the above thoughts, our elderly lady continued speaking. She had the same serious intonation in her voice and was speaking on a more personal level now, like a mother. She told us that she is from Central province and that she had seen all these before. By all these she meant the tribal bickering, the endless arguments about who killed who, and the entrapment of people in cycles that led them nowhere. She said that it was a pity that in 2009, we would still be discussing the very things that her generation wasted decades on. And extrapolating how these four decades were wasted, it was easy to see how Vision 2030 would end up becoming Vision 3020. She ended with a plea that was so forceful it came out like an order.  She told us to just stop with all this nonsense of who killed who and for what reasons and instead focus our energies on more productive things. And with that, the conversation effectively came to an end with Parselelo confessing that he wanted to clap for her. The next minutes were spent on closing remarks in which nothing new was said.

This is just one conversation and such are the intricacies of most conversations and the weight they often carry. We each left that tent as I have left many other discussions, informed, curious, and eager to share the knowledge. For me, what lay ahead was crystal clear. First I would write a post about it in my blog, which would be followed by sending links of it to both my twitter and facebook accounts and I would then engage those who would care to reply to the blog post. That is my way of keeping the conversation going. Looking at Kantai, I wondered whether what was discussed would influence his perception as he drafts his upcoming book on Tom Mboya. Watching Alkags, I also wondered whether he would do another compilation of short stories because the astoundingly compelling case our elderly lady friend had just made gave credence to importance of hearing out such unheard voices. Glancing over at our author guy whose name I have given up on, I smiled as I speculated whether in light the temporary reprieve that JM had been given in the tent, he would be less critical of the man either in subsequent forums or in his writing. I hoped that everybody who was present at that tent would tell their friends and colleagues the bits of information that they found most intriguing on their end. It would be their way of keeping the conversation going.

But even as I go out of my way to either initiate or join ongoing conversations about this potentially great nation of ours, it is not lost to me that people wake up differently. This evokes memories of our younger days when we had to contend with the fact that our fathers were mere mortals. There were those of us who took it in our stride and then there were those who needed to cry a river first before embracing the harsh reality. In between the two, there were many more categories which stemmed from the ease or difficulty that people have waking up from deep slumber. For instance, there are those like me who are light sleepers (mild insomniacs) and hence do not need the huge cathedral bells to wake us up. Just a whisper and we are wide awake ready to take on the world. By virtue of being light sleepers, we are woken up by the sounds of politicians sneaking around at night plotting with fellow thugs about the next big catch at our expense. Our duty then has become that of watchmen, keeping vigil and raising alarm at any sign of trouble be it a typing error, an off cuff remark, or unholy alliances. Though we all eventually sleep, it is never too deep or for very long because our biology and psychology does not allow us.

But there are more: there are the insomniacs who are keeping eternal vigil. There are those who set alarms to wake them up; that alarm rang loudly when the country approached the precipice in the post election debacle and now they are wide awake. There are also those who set alarms only to throw them in water because the reality of waking up and smelling the coffee is too great to bear. They are a challenge. There are those who sleep until they can sleep no more; like an ostrich that puts its head in the sand, they think they will avert the worst if they just ignore it. There are those who can only be woken up by nightmares and only by drawing them a picture that this country is a nightmare waiting to happen will they wake up. Then there are those who sleep walk; they honestly think that since they are walking they must be awake. This is a hypnotic trance that needs to be broken for them to be of any help to the rest of us. Lastly there are those who wake up but not fully. My friend Dallas for instance, on waking up, he stays in this stupor as he simultaneously scratches his stomach and crotch. That tells me that he fully wakes up when his food and posterity come under threat. There are others who need hot coffee, or jogging to be fully awake. Such is the challenge facing this amorphous revolution that began in whispers. The whispers have become conversations which may now have to change into shouts of dissent if we are to wake up everybody to the reality that is with us today.

the final part coming soon…

Current mood:  overwhelmed
Category: Romance and Relationships

I’ve got a new theory on dating and relationships. Have you seen Afro Samurai? Well, it’s based upon that idea, the headband idea. Only I’m replacing it with a collar, a sexy Story of O collar. Google the Story of O if you are confused. See, it works this way,  Number 1= girlfriend, Number 2= gurl, Number 3 is just… Number 3. They should then battle to see who wears the number 1 collar! Everybody wins.

That’s IT!
Anthony Dominguez
comedian.writer.lover…

I’m not religious, but recently, I have had to look for some spiritual guidance.

Thanks to having to deal with someone less than impressive, I got a great lesson out of it. I feel so much more grounded, and much more accepting of things in life that I cannot change or control.

Here are a few things I learned.

1. When things are very hot, leave it to cool over-night and check back – in life, we will come across frustrating events, people, situations. Especially when dealing with people, I think it’s very easy to get worked up and say or write things we may regret the next morning. There’s no ‘morning after’ pills for spilled words. There’s no ‘undo’ in life. There’s also no ESC button in life! It might feel like losing at first, for not saying everything that’s going through our heads, but once you step back, cool down, and re-think, most things are not even deserving of so much negative energy.

2. It’s always a power struggle – My theory on insecurity – that we often do/say things to compensate for our insecurities is related to this lesson. We’re always in a power struggle. What was the last thing that you were offended about? Think deep about why you would’ve been offended. It’s probably because the other person has said/did something to lower your self-worth. We are mad because the other person is undermining you. Perhaps this is where having a strong network of family and friends becomes the most powerful weapon of all. When we are surrounded by people who love us, who respect us and believe in us, we don’t need other people’s approval. We already know we’re important. We don’t need to fight this particular person, or for something external to make us feel important. Same thing with volunteering/serving/helping others. When we are needed, we have a place to go to know we are a somebody to someone special.

3. Jesus (here we go, religious reference) offered to wash the feet of his disciples. If JESUS could do that, why can’t we? What makes us think we are so important?

4. Love the person you hate – This is an odd concept, but an epiphany I had that dramatically changed my approach to dealing with a difficult person and helping myself more than anything. We’re all human beings. We are not perfect. We can’t expect others to be perfect. Other people also come with their own mt.everest to climb. they could be suffering in some way, making them be more sharp/sensitive than you. So LOVE them. Those who are so defensive/offensive could be the person who needs the most love, who needs the most help. No matter who they are, no matter what they did, if you look at them with a loving, open heart, it’s easier on you to let go of whatever issue you’re dealing with, and see them as another person like yourself who is not perfect. Loving the person you hate, doesn’t change much, but at least let’s you see the bigger picture, and be less upset about what’s going on.

5. Some people could not be helped – I think like the serenity prayer, there are things/people we cannot change. Some people, no matter what you do will not be open-minded. In this case, I think it’s best to leave them alone and not get involved… depending on the situation.

Now that it’s becoming more noticeable that I’m losing weight, a lot (and I mean a LOT) of people ask me (yes, all 270.5 pounds of me) for dieting advice.

Sidebar: for the record, I do not consider what I’m doing a diet.  A diet implies temporary changes.  My changes are lifelong.  I’m a recovering fat girl who is relearning how to eat, drink and deal with stress.  Losing weight really does come from some serious looking inward.  There is ALWAYS a reason (most of the time emotional) why you are overweight.  You have to find that core reason and change that before you can change anything else with any sort of permanence.

So, back to dieting advice.  I get asked for it way more than you’d think.  And by people WAY more normal-sized than me.  It blows my mind, really.  So here’s what I do and why I do it:

I have always been aware of my weight.  You didn’t have to tell me I was fat because I truly already knew it.  Even when I was nothing more than a bit pudgy, I have thought of myself as rotund.  And that has been the hardest thing to change so far: my self-image.  Yes, I’m down 3 (almost 4!) pant sizes, but I do not see changes in my body.  I stand in front of the mirror constantly to see if I can notice anything.  I can’t.  So I beg my husband to tell me when he notices things changing.  One of the best moments was when he realized he can once again put his arms all the way around my waist from behind.  It’s now one of his favorite things to do.

Another tiny sidebar: I lost about 50 pounds in 2001, and gained it all back plus some when my life TOTALLY changed in 2003.

Focus, Ms. ADHD.

What spurred me to start losing weight?  Well, I knew that I wanted to because I was unhappy with myself.  I realized one day that I wasn’t letting people take photos of me anymore.  And sometimes, when I walked, I could FEEL the fat jiggle on my face.  It disgusted me.  And if I were disgusted with me, I could just imagine what I was doing to my poor husband.  When my size 28 jeans started getting tight, I knew I really had to do something.

And just when I had that realization, I was fired from the only job I’d ever really and truly loved.  It was a job I pictured myself retiring from.  I was fired 2 months after I was given an “Extra Effort Award” in front of the whole company.  And I was fired unfairly.  My whole world caved.

Then two months later, just when things were getting to the point of us picking out a nice cardboard box to live in, I got another job.  And this one blows my old one out of the water!  I’ve mentioned before, though, how what I do keeps me around college-sized girls (SERIOUSLY! Tonight, on the way out, we walked by a girl who appeared to have Twizzler-sized legs!  It was outrageous!), and made me even more aware of my size.  I was browsing the daily news blurb that gets sent to all employees and saw that they were putting together a Weight Watchers group on campus.  PERFECT!  So I emailed my interest, and I had no idea what a change that email would bring to my life.

I saw myself quietly slipping away once a week to the meetings just down the hall, and silently watching what I was eating without anyone else knowing.  In my head, I saw this as a very personal journey that I did NOT want others to know (and judge) about.  I was doing this for me and only two people were going to know what was going on: my husband and my sister.  It wasn’t anyone else’s business.

Except when I was supposed to give the first check for the meetings, I couldn’t get to the meeting because we were busy.  And the lady who I had originally contacted then came to the bookstore while I was running around and said (OH so loudly), “If you want to join WEIGHT WATCHERS, you have to give me the check today!” in front of every co-worker I have.  I wanted to die.  I wanted to forget Weight Watchers existed and I wanted to go eat a candy bar.  In front of this lady who just spewed MY secret to everyone!

Instead, in my self-loathing shame, I figured I deserved that, so I wrote the check.  And the next week I went to the first meeting.  I went to about a total of 4 or 5 meetings before I realized they were SO not what I needed.  The first meeting, it was clear I was the heaviest person in the group.  Our leader was some chick who lost 70 pounds 20 years ago and was so rail-thin that it was ridiculous.  She never did anything on a personal level beyond asking my name.  She didn’t even go over the basics of the plan with me.  However, I was determined, and I learned it all on my own.  I use the website like it was a religion, and I did my own research.  Instead of this woman talking for 30 minutes about the wonderment that is the sweet potato (which is a lecture I would LOVE to sit in on!) she would talk about how to cheat and get away with it.  The last meeting I went to, she asked what everyone’s trigger foods were.  When she got to me, I said that I’d rather not go there because I was currently in a zone where the temptations weren’t getting into my brain and I rather liked it that way.  She implored that I think about it for a few minutes and let her know exactly what it was that I craved and knew that if I took even one bite, I’d lose all willpower and overeat.  I thought of nothing but Chinese take-out for the next week.  That was it for me.  The in-person meetings were not the way to go.

But I followed the guidelines of Weight Watchers online, and used the mobile site on my Blackberry, and did my own research on what foods I should eat and what recipes I should try.  I read every article on WeightWatchers.com and decided that I was not going to live a life of learning how to cheat.  I was going to learn how to eat the right way so that someday I’d have a chance to live in a world where I didn’t have to write down every morsel of food I put into my mouth.

And most importantly, I found a core group of friends (most of whom were very unexpected) who supported me more than any in-person group ever could.  I decided that I would make my journey as public as possible without caring what other people thought about me.  I write on my Facebook about it constantly.  I talk about food with anyone who will listen.  I am living these changes as loudly as I possibly can because I’m doing it for me and no one else.

So…if you want some advice, just send me a note.  You are welcome in my world any time.

Being in a waiting room one has time to think, worry, ponder, get frustrated . . .. One can waste time in the waiting room or one can make it profitable. Karrah and I have been spending a lot of time in prayer seeking God’s will on our lives. We find and are willing to be in all types of ministries. Just the other day we heard a missionary presentation on Honduras and we thought it would be great to go help them.

One thing that has kept us still seeking God’s direction in the matter of a mission field is that we have not found peace. God is the God of peace and not confusion. We have felt a need in the different countries but not a peace. We have been very interested in Spain and we have felt peace about it. We talked with our pastor and he seems excited about it too. Now we will continue to pray about it and if the Lord continues to give peace we will present it to the church.

What are you doing in the waiting room? Are getting frustrated, mad, not understanding why God has not put you in the place that you want to be? Or are you seeking His face, looking for His will, His peace?

Hi my name is Wil Rickards and this is the first blog in a series which I hope will be filled with ideas and activities that you will find useful on the journey of reaching your true potential and maybe finding a job.

Today I am going to introduce myself by explaining where most of my real learning has come from. Author Robert Fulghum wrote a popular book called, All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten; all I can say is that I must have been a late bloomer because I did not figure life out quite so early. Yet, if I examine my own experiences, I believe what I found out for myself, often the hard way has stood me in the greatest stead.

My most effective classrooms were the mountains, rivers and seas of my teens and early twenties, here every action and reaction was relevant and feedback was usually instant.

• If I forgot my rain gear or spare layers I was left cold or wet
• If I could not be bothered to prepare for lunch I went hungry
• The less I had the more resourceful I became and the easier it was to move
• Hard work was often rewarded; I am left with lots of mental images of stunning views
• The people I shared most trust with are the ones I am still good friends with decades on down the road
• I learned trust by putting myself in situations where I had to trust and I gained a great deal from doing it
• The hardest objectives needed to be prepared and trained for the most and are the ones I still remember
• The more committing and dangerous an adventure the more carefully I chose a partner
• Enjoyment stemmed not only from the activity but in a large part from the company I kept and yet doing something alone was often more emotionally challenging and provided a different benefit
• Being part of a tribe gave me cultural identity, role models, mentors (both savant and otherwise) and quelled some of my impetuosity while still being a nursery for my confident aspirations
• I dreamed most peacefully when, I slept the sleep of the warrior, my arms still aching from the travail and my mind spent from the exertions of maintaining optimism and focus in the face of fear and adversity
• My performance improved most significantly when I set concrete, positive goals and shared the journey with a partner who wanted the same thing and was happy to help me push when life became difficult
• Being self aware and training my weaknesses while playing to my strengths paid the most dividends
• The meditation of being thoroughly in the moment brought the most development. This was most easily obtained when I had to focus and the consequences were real
• Mimicking natural processes was often the most efficient path to follow
• There was no point in getting upset with a situation, it just needed to be dealt with and it was especially rare that I could blame someone else while maintaining integrity; even if I wanted to

Surrounding myself in nature has provided me with these examples and the added benefit of grounding. Standing on top of a precipitous mountain, feeling the surge of a river dropping over a rapid or sitting amidst a vast ocean in a small boat has helped me to know how significant I really am. It has also filled me with joy and allowed me to recognize the value of my choices and the control I have over them.

So that is a little about me. Have you recognized I like transferable learning? Here are a few questions for you. How do you know what you know? Are you like me and need gentle reminders of your own truth? Does taking time out to think about the lessons you have learned in your past give you insight into how to deal with your today? Please do comment, I love reading people’s thoughts and ideas and next time I will share a gem for staying upbeat when life is wearing you down.

Also published in www.denver.jobing.com

An old man lived alone in the country. He wanted to dig his potato garden but it was very hard work as the ground was hard. His only son who used to help him was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.

Dear Son,
I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I won’t be able to plant my potato garden this year. I’m just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be over, I know you would dig the plot for me.
Love,
Dad

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Dad,
For heaven’s sake, don’t dig up that garden! That’s where I buried the GUNS!
Love,
Son

At 4am the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any guns. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Dad,
Go ahead and plant the potatoes now. That’s the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love,
Son