Writing

Each man must look to himself to teach him the meaning of life. It is not something discover; it is something moulded. ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I experimented with a mixed bag of projects last year. There had been no shortage of ideas and parties who initially shared the enthusiasm, but soon diverged as our values clashed. After dismal attempts at partnership, I realize this is not my optimum work mode. In this muddled phase of everything is working but not working either, I have a major identity crisis. What am I doing?

I still believe in my pet projects but the one that manages to win out is writing. I have been writing weekly articles for a travel website. Since the deadlines are really tight I have to prioritize and adjust some facets of my daily schedule to meet them. However, the many abrupt changes recently have upended everything and I decide it's high time to take a sabbatical to reorganize and recharge. While reworking the schedule for the articles, the editor tells me he is leaving for Burma in mid-January and since there is little Internet access, he tells me to write on areas I haven't covered. The usual practice is getting a nod from him before proceeding with a new topic. With five articles and a month's work in my repertoire, he says he is confident and assured with whatever I come up with. Wow.

I think this is the biggest acknowledgement I have received in my life. I am finally doing what I love and getting recognized by a professional writer. It seems like a cloud has lifted and I can see my way. I don't have a muddled identity anymore. I write.

p.s. My professor has been right all along. It will be a long road with many twists and turns and there will be bouts of losing myself and doubting my sanity, but have faith.

(photo www.artsjournal.com)

Indignation

Bouquet of Anger

A good indignation brings out all one's power ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

As I was searching for a picture of anger, I came across the photo above, named a bouquet of anger. On a closer look, I think it's aptly named because of the wild arrangement of prickly and thorny foliage.

After Merlyn left, I had two part times who alternately helped me around the house. On Christmas Day, of all days, one decided to switch with the other. To be honest, I didn't expect them to show up at all on Christmas. To make a long story short, the one who's supposed to come didn't call me till 5pm, said she was sick. The other one said she was already out doing choir practice. Fine.

The thing that got me fuming was both claimed the other had asked for the switch. It smelled fishy. One thing I looked for in any working relationship was reliability and trust. When the weekday one showed up yesterday, she could not look me in the eye. No remorse, no apology.

The result? I fired her on the spot.

I thought I would panic without help, but the overwhelming feeling was that of empowerment. I wasn't 100 % pleased with their work, but I really didn't want to mop the floor either. I gritted my teeth and did all the housework I abhor on Boxing Day. It wasn't that bad.

Actually this episode was a well learnt lesson on conditioning. I was conditioned to rely on someone else to do "whatever"for me. The conditioning went beyond hired help to working partners gone MIA. I thought there was only one person who was capable, but billions of people in this world had the caliber, if not more, to perform the same work. It might not be a bad thing when one ended, perhaps there were undercurrents I had not noticed all along.

I also kept forgetting there's always this one person I could rely on, Me. A well learnt lesson in 2009. Looking forward, exercising my muscle in self reliance would be foremost on my New Year's resolution list. It ain't all bad in the end.

(photo http://www.static.dezeen.com/)

Gratefulness

White Azaleas

I had a wonderful professor in college who was also the Dean of English and she played a pivotal role in my decision to major in English literature. On the first day of our Medieval English class she read us a poem in old English. The spelling and pronunciation of the words were totally foreign to me but I was mesmerized by her melodic voice. Her wealth of knowledge was like a magnet drawing me to take as many of her classes as possible.

One day, she told me to see her after class. I didn't give it much thought as she liked to see students individually about their essays. I was so surprised when she said she wanted to recommend me for a summer exchange program to study Shakespeare at Cambridge University. I was dumb struck and very flattered. The decision to go was made then and there.

We actually lived on the campus, in Trinity college and our meals were served by students volunteering for the summer. The mess hall was exactly like Hogwart's. We had classes in the morning and after lunch. By four o' clock, tea would be served in the courtyard. After that we were free to roam about. I was drawn to the cluster of book shops selling old books and maps. I loved the musty air and the dust that trailed the book from the moment you took it off the shelf to the final puff swirling in the afternoon light when you opened the creaking pages.

The program included excursions to Stratford to see the place where the bard had lived and to London to watch a play by the Royal Shakespeare Company. We saw the comedy "Much Ado about Nothing". The highlight though was attending class every day where quite a few of us had a crush on our professor. Mind you, our class was supposed to be an intensive study of Romeo and Juliet. Our professor was a born story teller and would venture off with stories in the middle of discussing a thematic scheme of the play. We implored him to read us something in old English every day and he accepted with a broad grin.

This was many years ago, but to this day, I continue to feel blessed and grateful for having the Dean as my mentor. She was one harsh grader and she would always say to us, "critique your work as if I was grading it". Her training was military but appreciated in afterthought. I have been contributing articles to a tourism website recently. One prerequisite is an excellent command of the English language. As I write, a familiar voice from the distant past materialize to guide me through, "Is this a run on sentence, is this redundant, is this metaphor balanced or is this pun intended?"

Her parting words when I left school was a quote from Emerson. I finally knew what it meant.
~Most of the shadows of this life are caused by standing in our own sunshine.

Some Pig!

Santa Porky

The weather has turned much cooler, which is wonderful relief to a person who dreads the heat and humidity, c'est moi. Since I have two cats, I can't open the windows as wide as I'd like for fear they will jump out, but I do open the ten windows at my place about two inches wide each to air the house.

Out of stupidity and forgetfulness one night, I forgot to close the window nearest to the head board of my bed. When I woke up to feed Dayee in the morning, I had a full blown headache. Oh, Dayee has a daylight savings setting. She wakes up at 7am instead of 6am now. After popping two painkillers, I waddled back to the bedroom.

I could feel a draft sitting on the bed arranging the covers and it checked out to be from "the" opened window. I was muttering to myself that I fully deserved the head cold. I wanted something warm but I didn't want to go through the kitchen drawers to find the hot water bottle and worse, wait for the water to boil. I gave my pig a sly look.

Mr. Porky does not like to sleep on the bed. The thing is he cannot climb up nor jump down. I didn't care, my head was throbbing. I grabbed my pig and put him beside me. His warmth spread through the blankets and I felt so blissful I fell into a four hour coma. When I woke up, the headache was gone and I felt warm all over, not only because of Porky's hot bod, but the fact he stayed with me the whole time without struggling to go down the bed.

When he saw me stir, he climbed up to my belly and looked at me with the big question, "Can I go down now?" After I put him down, I saw him rushing to his cage to do his thing. He was so relieved he had a big grin after and I knew he felt so proud. Of course such a good boy deserved a cookie and a big hug.

Some pig!!