The Deception of Success

I don't consider myself successful. Not in an overtly ambitious, scaling the heights of the steep career wall aggressively, sense anyway. I don't consider myself a failure either. I am content. I am happy with where I am and what I have achieved.  Mostly because I am not gripped by career fever and I have other things in life that drive me. I am also modest and aware.

Many on the other hand are not. Modesty is one thing but awareness is something else altogether.

There is a disease that I have witnessed first hand grip colleagues and friends, and it has to do with success. I could go into the subjective psychological and philosophical layers underlying what success means to you or me or the average person trying to make a mark out there. I won't. The concept is much simpler than that. It is about reaching unprecedented levels of achievement before your very own eyes, that it almost becomes intoxicating. One achievement drives another and another until one loses track of the means and reason. When that happens, there is no control over sinking deeper into a dementia of ambition. The result? Being totally and utterly consumed by one's own success that there is absolutely no awareness of all the compromises made.

It can happen to anyone. Success can give such a feeling of elation, a sense of achievement and a power that one perhaps didn't realise existed. A hunger for more is born. Success becomes a drug that is needed to feed that power within and it grows exponentially. When one is not aware and one is not modest, it turns into a disease. What would it take to taste one more bitter sweet success story? Forego humaneness, good manners or decency. In very mild forms, that's always how it begins. The ends justify the means. It becomes ok to be a little less polite, a little more aggressive, a little less humane, a little more robotic or as the corporate world might describe it more "business-like". Business is business after all, whatever that means. A whirpool that consumes mind and soul because, what after all these successes? It is all temporary. What remains is how you are able to (or unable to) face yourself and those who matter because life is short and we all die.

So stop.

Modesty and awareness are the controllers of success. They pace us. They make us evaluate our approach and get us in tune with our value system. They are the checks and balances of our achievements and they ground us so that we don't end up living in the castles that we build in our minds. Success can be a good thing, just not when we are deceived by it.

When it feels personal...

Martin Place.
The amphitheatre. The benches near the stall with all the flowers. The Law Society and Supreme Court just around the corner. The buildings. The businesses. The library. Elizabeth Street. The steps down to the train station. Snapshots. Continual poses frozen in my mind. I am stuck in my head. Clouded with emotion and shock.

Lindt cafe.
My favourite cafe in Sydney. I was there just last year. We were all there one Friday morning on a summer's day. All the other times I went there. Pancakes with my sister. Sitting by the windows. The tastes, senses and vibes from the chocolate. The type of people who would stop by, or linger. Chocolate to go. Delectable tastes and memories in my head. In my heart.

Katrina Dawson.
A tribute. A name. A face. A person. A college resident. A fleeting memory. A brave soul. Discrete moments captured and linked together to arrive at an unimaginable ending.

They say when something tragic happens to you, you need to give yourself time to grieve. Allow yourself to acknowledge the emotions. What happens when you are not directly affected but instead, a spectator from afar. Are you still entitled to grieve? I feel entitled to grieve and mourn the reckless murder of innocence. The violation of my personal memories. The loss of lives.

We make memories. We experience moments that leave a mark on us. We go through motions not knowing their effect or how they might influence others now or in the future. We leave pieces of our hearts in the things we love and do, sincerely but possibly superfluously, only to recall them at times like this. Time and circumstances work together to filter through the past and make important that which was once a single chain in a long series of moments.

When I first heard about the Sydney siege, I was in shock, just like millions of others. Maybe if it had occurred somewhere else, it wouldn't have shook me that way. But this is my hometown. This is Martin Place. A place I know. A place I walked through, lingered on in and reflected by many times. Time is testimony to moments I spent there. How can that same place be host and witness to an event so gruesome. How can a lunatic give himself the right to intrude on that space.

And this is Lindt cafe. My favourite chocolate cafe, in fact my favourite cafe in Sydney. A warm and delightful place. Chocolate attracts happiness and innocence. It also attracts children. A non-coffee drinker, Lindt was my solace and my answer. A delectable, stylish, classy and simple venue in the midst of a seriously busy city hub. Now the innocence of the place has been violated and destroyed. Guns, fear, threats, death... how can that be forever linked to the homecoming and welcoming feeling of chocolate.

Then there are the victims. I could've been one of them. Any one of my family or friends could've been one of them. It would not be uncommon for us to stop by the cafe for a hot chocolate or a special treat. Whenever I think back to the horror that the victims and their families must've experienced, I feel sick to the bone. It is not hard to replace their images with myself or any one of my family or friends.

Katrina Dawson. What a brave soul. Ever since I saw her picture or heard her name, I felt a sense of connection. At first I thought I was empathising with her but there was another nagging yet distant feeling. And then I realised why as the cobwebs of the past cleared and I found myself facing an explosion of memories. Our connection is Womens College. The halls of residence I lived in for three years while I studied at the University of Sydney many many years ago, while approaching the end of my teens. A place where she and I lived and shared for one of my three years. A place that shaped my personality. There is no denying it. My initial university years, my college years were the most influential years in my life. Living with other women, day in and day out, sharing meals, sharing activities and events. The formal dinners. The guest speakers. The food. The random wanderings... We were influenced by the same things. For a year, we took in the same experiences. Did I know her personally? No. But I could've passed her by walking down one of the corridors. I could've smiled at her. Could she have been just a few doors away from me? Did I ever imagine that someone I used to live with but had no direct connection with would suddenly make me want to grieve for her? How is this possible?

Perhaps it is still the shock of it all that is preventing me from understanding my emotions. I am saddended. I am mourning silently in my heart a fellow college resident. I am mourning the cafe manager. Brave, brave soul. I am silently holding a vigil and a prayer in my heart for them and for their families. And I cry untold tears for my religion that gets blasphemed by lunatics time and time again for no reason. Lunatics who know nothing of its tenderness.

I cry silent tears for the #illridewithyou hashtag that touched so many of us. This is what humanity is about. I cry silent tears for the hope of humanity left in many and I cry bitter tears for those whose hearts have hardened in its face.

I long to lay flowers on the ground at the site and to write sincere words in the notebooks lying there now. I long to join in and show my little bit of humanity. But I am afar so I grieve alone. May they rest in peace and may the justice system learn a hard hard lesson, never to be repeated ever again.

The End or the Beginning?

I'm about to start the last week of my seven year journey. A career change I embarked on when everyone around me thought I had lost the plot on life. A journey that was filled with hardships and challenges and many lessons learnt. Now, it's come down to the final week. The stakes are high and the challenges during this week are the toughest yet. Just one week more. Survive this and it's all over. It hit me a few days ago but I brushed it aside. It was only this morning that the realisation dawned on me. And with it came a sea of emotions, confusing me, tugging at me here and there. And with it came the stress.

Seven years ago I took a leap of faith and took my first baby steps into an unknown world. It was a journey I started not knowing where it would take me. I changed paths many times. I had to stop and recalibrate my proverbial compass when things weren't working. It was a journey marred by extreme uncertainty but also blessed with luck and elements of success that kept me going. And I soldiered on during those times when I was close to giving up.

Seven years of my life. The same questions that haunted me at various points on my way are nagging at me now. Was it worth it? Or have I just wasted a precious seven years of my life. The best years of my life to reach an endpoint that might be synonymous to an anti-climax.

Recalibration of the mind...

This is not the end of a seven year journey. This is a means to a new beginning.

The value is not in reaching the endpoint - although one of the goals that keep you moving - but in learning lessons and becoming a richer person. I am not the same person I was seven years ago by far. I think back to my life at the start and imagine what it would've been like had I not made this change. I shake my head and think: No. Things are exactly the way they are meant to be. 

I was meant to take this journey. I was meant to endure, fight and rise above. I was meant to become the person I am today and it's all for the purpose of preparing me for something bigger and better. So it's not about the endpoint. It's much deeper and all-encompassing than that.

I am about to start the last week of a seven year journey that will catapult me into the life I am meant to live. Be the person I am meant to be and fulfill my destiny. It's about shaping who I am. It was about healing my wounds and sealing my scars and making me stronger. 

And now, as I take it one day at a time during these final challenges, I will rest assured, looking forward to the fresh start that is awaiting me.

Life is composed of a series of fresh starts, though we might not know it. I'm about to start mine..

Our Disassociated Selves

The world is suffering from a lost innocence, manifested in our hardened souls. 

This blog post is nothing more than an inner conversation my conscience has with me, frequently. A circular conversation that starts where it ends, every single time. It starts like this.

When was the last time you cried over something that had absolutely nothing to do with you?

When was the last time you empathized with someone else's adversity?

When was the last time you actually tried to do something about it?

Maybe we claim we do. Perhaps we shrug our shoulders and think in silence that it is wrong, that it is unfair but that there is nothing we can do about it. We shift the responsibility over to someone else, not knowing who that someone is. A proverbial savior of all things who is anyone but us. And we distract ourselves and go on with our daily lives, just like those who struggle for their daily lives go on too.

I am guilty of being in a state of disassociation. I look for a scapegoat. It could be anything. The media, the news, governments, politicians, people in power not doing enough, people on the ground not going about it the right way. Fact is, we're all in the same boat, just looking at things from a different angle. There's a huger sense of cause and effect that governs our lives. There's a unique sense of balance that may seem skewed and unnatural. An oxymoron I know, but somehow it makes sense. And again I digress and find that this is just another means for me to philosophise our human condition; our dissociative selves.

I watch the news and the constant bombardment of atrocities has made it the norm to expect to see and hear these advertises on a daily basis. So I instantly shut it out. Dissociate myself from it. Out of sight out of mind. A safety latch that I hold on to, allowing me to function in a world gone mad. There are many like me. In fact I have stopped watching the news.

I occupy myself with my goals and hobbies and doing my bit of good in this world. But it's never enough because my conscience pokes at me again and asks me...

When was the last time you truly, sincerely empathized with someone else's adversity?

And the bully of a conscience replies to the silence it is faced with: you're just like everyone else, lost in your disassociated self.

And I sigh and think yes and the world is suffering from a lost innocence, an innocence that at least I still possess and see reflected in children under five years old. And my soul is not so hard after all.

Why I Love October - just for fun!

It's October! A month that brings me joy. Come October, I feel my spirits high, carefree, in perfect balance and serenity.

In a true light-hearted and corny sense, today being the 5th of October, I decided to write my all time top 5 favourite reasons why I love the month of October.

1) October means Spring (southern hemisphere) or Autumn (northern hemisphere). Both seasons are full of personality and change. Effervescent flowers or crunchy leaves, they're opposite seasons of each other. Spring being the start of life and Autumn being the gradual end to it. October carries both meanings gracefully.

2) October defies the norm. You'd think that the 'octo' in October would make it the eighth month of the year from a semantically Latin point of view. Yet it falls within a perfect ten. It challenges norms with strength and confidence.

3) It invites an exploration of the outdoors. There's a pleasant balance of sun and breeze. A comfortable temperature level. A beckoning of the outdoors to discover.

4) October talks of rain. A blessing of droplets from the sky that tease and play with the sun's rays and we get to see rainbows.

5) October is the month I was born in along with many other lovely Librans.

Another year passes,

another is due to begin.

Of all challenges of the year,

we'll face another with a grin.

Happy October to everyone and especially to those other lovelies born this month.

How Confident Are You, Really...

Picture this.

You're in a car park and you've finally found a parking spot. You decide you're going to reverse park into it this time. But just when you're about to do the maneuver, another car turns the corner and waits. Obviously you're in its way and it waits. You feel the headlights on you. You feel the driver's restless eyes on you. You feel the other car's engine revving up as it watches you and waits for you to get on with it. What do you do?

You might find yourself cursing silently. Feel a few sweat beads run down your forehead. You might actually try to park the car but then the pressure just gets too much and you drive off in a huff in search for another parking spot. You catch a glimpse in the rear view mirror of the other car, the one that was waiting for you, gracefully back into your spot in reverse. And you curse again.

Or you might persist, against all odds, come what may, you will park in that spot if it's the last thing you ever do. You're not about to back out now. True, your skills are not up to scratch. Despite this you ignore the piercing or glaring eyes of the driver and make excuses for the numerous maneuvers that you are having to make before you finally park the darn thing. You even ignore the immediate aftermath: the screeching of the tyres of an angry and restless driver whose time you managed to waste. Inconsiderate, you think. After all, you would've waited all the same.

Or you might absolutely relish the challenge that you're being presented with. The opportunity to show off your perfect driving skills. Watch and learn, you think to yourself, as you gracefully reverse perfectly into the spot. In fact, the trickier the spot the better the challenge. You think of how you can smoothly reverse with the least number of maneuvers and the whole experience becomes all the more pleasant for you. Nevermind the screeching tyres of the other car in the aftermath. That's just plain rude, you think to yourself, drive off with envy, oh yeah!

Analogously, we tend to react to the challenges presented to us in a similar manner. I found myself in the latter category of drivers this morning, relishing the chance to show off my driving skills in the parking lot. Years of experience gave me the confidence and allowed me to excel in that specific skill. I knew I could do it and I even enjoyed doing it. I wasn't contemplating it or even waiting for it. But when the situation presented itself to me all of a sudden, I could do it subconsciously. In my mind's eye I was already a winner, always alert and always prepared to use a skill that has become second nature to me.

Yet I must admit that when faced with other challenges on a daily basis, I tend to fall into the second, if not the first category. So why is that, I asked myself. Is it because I am faced with something new? Is because I haven't built the confidence yet, still unsure of whether I could do it or not? Is because I am unprepared? It might be a combination of factors but it made me consider what is it that makes us excel in certain situations but not others.

I contemplated the ways we tend to react to the challenges of life. A source of brief enlightenment, I realise that this could be a means for me to work towards and strive to be that confident driver in the third category in other aspects of life. Maybe by trying to attain that level of confidence, I can then become the competent driver of my own life.

Girls : To Propose or Not to

I read a very interesting blog entry today (http://the-spit-bucket.blogspot.com/2012/09/why-cant-girl-propose.html) about a conversation on why a girl should be able to propose to a guy. It provoked a stream of thoughts and brought to the fore a series of memories. It was like a film reel of a portion of my life and I watched it and recalled it from afar. It also made me rethink and consider whether my views have changed.

Ten years ago I would've totally agreed with the view that a girl should be able to propose to a guy. Using tact and style I believed that a woman should be empowered enough to take charge of her relationships. After all, as strong independent women we take charge of our careers, our decisions, our finances, we should also be able to take charge of who we believe we want to spend the rest of our lives with. I used to find it ironic that society gives us the freedom to pursue our desires in other arenas yet conditions us into submission by waiting for the guy to take that step. It just didn't fit in with the persona of a modern day woman. I looked up at the role model of Lady Khadijah, our prophet Muhammad's (peace be upon him) first wife. A strong independent woman, she had proposed to him in a tactful and respectful way and their marriage was the happiest and greatest love story in history. I believed I could follow in her footsteps but I was wrong. Those were ideal people and whereas that had happened during an era when life was simpler, today such ideals are a rarity.

Fast forward ten years later. Yes I still believe a woman should be empowered enough to pursue her interests, goals and dreams when it comes to all aspects of her life. But I halt when it comes to applying that to that special person. It might be the dreamer and the little girl in me who still believes in the fairy tale that most girls grow up with. Prince Charming who will come and sweep us off our feet and take the step for us (to propose) and live happily ever after. Prince Charming may or may not exist but that's not the issue here.

I was one of those girls who did propose to my ex-husband. I did it with tact and style. We had known each other for two years and, being the type of person with strong faith and beliefs, I thought that the natural progression for our relationship would be marriage as I never believed in a girlfriend-boyfriend type of relationship and I was and still am religious. Two years had been enough time for us to get to know each other's personalities and I believed we were both ready to start a life together. So I broached the subject and suggested that we get married and make our relationship complete. It took a few months of consideration before we did. Two years later I was divorced. The reasons are not important but something I was told by him gave me a shocking lightbulb moment. When we got married, he had liked me but hadn't loved me. He had been under pressure at the time to get married and he decided to go ahead with it with me being available and after he had been presented with such an opportunity. He added that after marriage, he did gradually start to fall in love with me. The whole conversation was shocking to say the least. Had I misread the signs? Had my intuition and feelings been wrong all along? Needless to say that I realised that I had wronged myself and sold myself short.

Guys, when presented with an opportunity will jump at it. After my experience I was totally against the idea of a girl proposing to a guy. Perhaps it is wrong to generalise from one failed experience. There are probably many successful marriages out there as a result of the girl proposing. It all comes down to the background of the girl and the guy. It relates to upbringing and expectations and the level of open mindedness and maturity. It has to do with the seriousness of the relationship and the stage it is at. But again I will say that guys, when presented with an opportunity will jump at it. Even if the guy is open minded and mature enough, a guy who finds a girl hinting or offering herself in marriage to him will seriously consider it an opportunity. If he does go through with it, there will always be a lingering expectation that other things will be initiated by the girl too.

Girls like to feel cherished, appreciated and adored by the man they love. Girls who propose miss out on fulfilling that need. They miss out on the feeling that their man had the courage to take the step to declare their love to them, to have chosen them amongst all others. They miss out on the chance to know that their man has thought things through and decided that this is the person whom they want to spend the rest of their life with. The proposal is by far the most romantic and important step for any girl in a relationship because it's a declaration. The first true declaration of how special she is to him.

Women by their very nature are givers and nurturers. We are made that way to contain the people we love. We have this innate tendency within us to care and nourish souls. It is natural for a woman to feel the need to want to care for and nurture the guy she loves. But girls who propose miss out on that form of appreciation of that feminine aspect of themselves. Instead they choose to frog leap and place themselves in a position where they will always be expected to forever be in a form of caring and nurturing. And even after successfully proposing and a happy marriage, there will always be those moments, wondering, during those grey moments when things are not as rosy as they seem, whether he would've even taken that step at all.

Today my view is that if I feel a certain way about someone I express it to them and make it known. But I leave the proposing to him to do. If he feels the same way too he would be miles ahead taking all steps to make it happen because guys are pursuers.

In a sense it is waiting for one's destiny to be fulfilled. As the age old adage says: all in good time and whatever is meant to be will be.

Time

I caught myself day dreaming today and scribbling the names of the months ahead down. There was April, then May and June and slowly, I found myself thinking of the months in a curve. It was as if the year was a circle and in my mind's eye I was walking down time lane. It was curving. I caught myself in a curve and halted then wrote this...


I see time ahead of me.
Curving into weeks, months and quarters,
forming a full circle,
making a complete year.
Then spiralling into the decades
that make up my life.

Pick any point in time,
a fleeting second or a moment, and
it's a pixel
in a continuously spiralling canvas,
hovering in mid space.

The starting point was a dot,
the tip of the spiral of a cone,
the moment I was created and told to be.

Our end may not be as harshly finite and defined.
A gentle wisp
like the edge of a ripple,
left to ponder on the time before its time,
and what we made of it and how it came to be.

I see time in a bright shade of grey,
or perhaps violet
and blue
combined,
in moderation to the eye.

I see it in different shades,
in different shapes,
for each one of us
blended
merged to our own form.

I need a doctor; Flight and Routine

Here are three writing prompts over the last week...

The first was from a random song picked from a random online radio station. The song that I came across was Dr Dre - I need a doctor. I took the first line and rolled with it...

The second is entitled Flight and the third Routine. Enjoy!

Dr Dre - I need a doctor

I'm about to lose my mind. The drip drop sound from the leaking tap down the corridor echoed like the dull slam of a drum. A constant expectation that my senses now waited for in dread. Sure enough, two seconds later the reverberation eases its way through my skull. Painstaking.

I've lost track of time, save for the count of the endless drops of water, acting like a clock in an infinite void. I don't know how long I've been lying here in the dark.

I try to roll over to will myself away, in a far away place, deep in the crevices of my mind. But I cannot move. My drugged body has disassociated itself from me. I can't feel my limbs so I lie still and wait. I take a deep breath and imagine a safe place. I find an early memory of myself laughing, at ease, not a care in the world. But the images fade almost instantly and disintegrate with the sound of a renewed drop of water, continuing to alert me. Bringing me back to the here and now and my sad state of affairs.

They wanted me to speak and tell them about the serum. Well I'm ready now, to tell them all. Just make that sound stop. Just bring the life back to my body and let me be again.

And I hear a creaking door open. I squint at the neon and the other outside sounds invading my subdued cell. A figure looms in the doorway. I struggle against a parched throat, "I'm ready to tell you. Please, I need a doctor."

Flight

"Can I bring you a drink and welcome snack?" beamed the air hostess as she handed me a shiny cosmetics bag, along with a pair of pyjamas before leaning over to lay a fresh duvet, a fluffy pillow and soft slippers on what looked like a bed nearby.

I stared at the items in my lap, looked up at her then down at the bed to my side, suddenly not knowing whether I was coming or going.

"Er... uhhh... wa-water please? yeah... yes thank you," I questioned more than answered and I could hear the air hostess giggle all the way down the aisle.

I eyed the others around me and saw that they were already settling into their cosy armchairs; it seems that first class was just the cure I had always needed for my fear of flying.

Routine


"Can you do something for me?" asked Linda in a panic.

Shona stopped typing and uttered an aknowledging mmmhmmm to her nearby supervisor. She thought she could guess what she was going to be given. Another exciting research task. Another phonecall to an important official perhaps. Or even better, another meeting she would have to attend.

A huge stack of documents suddenly brought her to attention as they landed, or rather were slammed down on her desk. Shona looked up with raised eyebrows from her behind her glasses.

"I need all these scanned in and sent off to the client in an hour. Can you do that? Can you get it all done by then? Make sure they're all in date order too." Linda said it all in one breath as she smoothly made her way back to her chair and started hammering away on her keyboard again, now in complete oblivion, relieved that she had she offloaded the most boring task in the world to someone else.

Great, thought Shona to herself, another hour of good old-fashioned routine. And she reached for her stress ball and chewing gum.

Insight in a Time of Illness...

I'm tucked in bed, box of tissues on my right, mounting pile of used tissues in the bin down on the floor on my left.  Water bottle, book and of course my laptop within easy reach. I'm sick with the flu and off work. I look out of the window and wish away these germs. Wishing I were healthy and on the go again. But these moments do have some value. And I contemplate and think.

How easy it would be just to have the simple ambitions of finish school, uni, get married, have a couple of kids and live life. Instead I choose the unconventional. The unordinary. And I put up with the mundane and the very ordinary day in day out to get to my goal. So I sit and wonder. Will it all be worth it? The hardships and challenges that I encounter. The seemingly dead ends and trying to channel a new way through the brick walls. Will they be worth it?

I don't have the answers. It's times like these where I only ask the questions and wonder. But then I pick myself up and continue where I left off. Some times God sends me a sign (I have learnt to look out for signs) to tell me to carry on and so I do. Other times I'm left to my own devices and have to find the faith within me to believe that what I'm doing is what I'm meant to be doing. But am I doing it the right way? Is there a right way?

Everyone has weaknesses and whereas I think I know mine, I don't seem to learn to stop being accommodating. At the risk of sounding very idealistic, naive and cheesy, I have been encountering more and more people who will stop at nothing to step on others to elevate themselves. Mostly it is an ego boost for themselves in an atmosphere that stops at nothing to undermine. But I am not made that way. I cannot undermine and I cannot use people as stepping stones. The problem is when people choose you as a stepping stone. A diplomat at heart, I find ways to circumvent it. Although in such situations, it requires direct confrontation and a little bit of lingo below the belt. I have never been able to adopt that attitude. So I come across as accommodating. 

I have been told that I can intimidate those in front of me when I choose to. So I guess I do have it in me. I just don't like doing it and I brush aside these ego boosting charades of the other as immaturity. I can see right through them and I can choose to stop them any time that I want to. So is this a weakness?

I go back to thinking about the simple ambitions and how everyone is just out for themselves. Trying to achieve whatever it is they seek. Even those with the not so simple ambitions. They're all the same. What a selfish selfish world we live in. And I think back to myself and wonder. Will all that I'm doing be worth it? Is there an unselfish aspect to what I want? Or am I just kidding myself.

Movie Week - Writing Prompts (Day 5&7) Downfall & Confessions

This continues from Days 1-3 and Day 4 of the movie week theme story. I had to miss out on Day 6's prompt but this hasn't affected the story much (as far as a week long unedited story goes!)

Downfall

A knock on wood,

followed a midnight call.

Time froze, we stood,

witnessing their downfall.

Confessions

It had been six years since that encounter in the desert. What prompted that scene to suddenly replay in her mind, Jenna wondered. Then she remembered the letter. 

She looked down at the package resting on her lap. The letter that she had been holding in her hand was flapping in the breeze. So this was it. Finally, the truth was out in the open. She wondered whether Sarah would ever had told her had she not known that she was dying. It's amazing how sobering death can be, how it can reveal secrets that a lifetime can often protect. She eyed the necklace lying in the box with a distant eye. It was a look of disdain. Friends forever. She sneered at it and stuffed the letter in the box, pushed it aside, holding on to the edge of the bench firmly for dear life. 

"Tom, it's all over," she stated in a matter of fact voice, void of emotion, tired of all that life had to give her by way of disappointments.

Tom reached for the letter but instinctively, Jenna stopped him before he could find out. Their eyes met and he looked at her, questioningly, eyes searching and asking a hundred questions.

She couldn't believe how she had been deceived. 

"Why won't you let me read it, Jen?" he asked with hesitation, almost knowing that he wouldn't like what he would read.

"I know enough. For both of us. For the three of us. You, me and our son. This letter was addressed to me," she paused, fumbling for the right words. "I know that you and Sarah were neighbours, growing up together. I know about her parents..." Her voice trailed off. 

Despite everything, she didn't want Tom to get hurt.

Sarah had known all about the rift between Tom and Jenna's families. It had taken quite a bit of plotting and planning but she had managed to work her magic by first, befriending Jenna and what seemed like a chance encounter between Tom and Jenna had in fact been part of her ploy all along. Of course, Tom had known about the rift too and that had never stopped him from marrying her. But there was more to it for Sarah. Revenge, Sarah had said in her letter. She wanted revenge from both families for destroying her life. For taking her parents away from her. Jenna had always known that Sarah had lost her parents at a young age but Sarah never did talk about it. And Jenna had always respected her privacy. What Tom hadn't known was that his family had been responsible for Sarah's parents death. 

She wasn't about to reveal that to him now, or ever. Some secrets were meant to remain just that. She looked out to the horizon and watched the sun about to bid goodbye. And she thought of the years she had shared with Tom, of the encounter in the desert. Perhaps Sarah's confession was timely. A means for her to rebuild her life, to disassociate herself from a family rift that she had no hand or use for. A chance for their son to grow up learning about love and forgiveness. There might be some good in this tangle after all.

Movie Week - Writing Prompts (Day 4) Unforgiven

Continuing from the first three days, the writing prompt for today was:

Unforgiven

It was one of those starry and subdued summer nights in the depths of the desert. Cocooned in the enclave of a sand dune, a group of friends gathered around a fire, toasting chestnuts while sipping heart-warming cups of chilli cocoa. The night games had taken an interesting turn with a fresh round of truth or dare. Jenna decided to withdraw from the group and listen to Tom’s strumming on his guitar instead. He was playing an old familiar tune. Soon enough, Jenna was humming to the tune until her voice could sustain itself no longer and she broke into song. With her eyes closed, she gave it her all until she slowly realised that the music had stopped. Flicking her eyes open, she caught Tom looking at her, watching her. There was this awkward moment and Jenna just didn’t know what to do with herself. Hesitating, she smiled and dug her feet in the sand, bringing herself up. But as she took a couple of steps away, she felt a squeeze on her shoulder, bringing her to a stop.

“Jen, let’s go for a walk.”

Jenna shifted her weight to the other foot and avoided looking at him. She shook the sand from her hands, “I… I think I should call it a night, mmmm, where’s Sarah? I need to find, Sarah. Just got this awesome design…”

“Wait. There’s something I need to tell you.”

Jenna blinked nervously as she found herself being led away. She knew what Tom had to say to her but she would have none of it. He was with Sarah now. Yes, they had been married once. Yes, they shared a son. In fact, they had so much in common that it had kept their friendship alive even after the separation and the divorce. Despite all the bitterness and the pain that they had experienced, she could forgive him all that, or so she thought. She had moved on and found new avenues for herself. So when he had hooked up with Sarah a couple of years after it was all final, she had no qualms. But infidelity was not something she could accept or even conceive in her mind. It was a concept alien to her but she wasn’t so sure about him. Tom was fickle and temperamental.

“Look, Tom, this is not going to work.”

“I’m still in love with you.”

“No, stop it! You’re not! You’re with Sarah now. You’re happy together. I won’t have any of this.”

Tom kicked the sand with his feet and made a fist before looking at her in the eye.

“When will you ever let go of it. You never will, will you! After all these years, you just won’t forgive me that one indiscretion. I did it for us, Jen. Why won’t you see that?”

Jenna pursed her lips and tried to stop herself from saying anything that she would later regret. It was of no use now. His lies were in the past and bringing them up now would do neither of them any good. Yet, she couldn’t help the heaviness in her chest, thinking about how he had lied to her about his family. About his history and lineage and how he had known that it would make it impossible for them to ever marry. About the fact that he had allowed her to break the vow that she had been made to take as a young girl. All the daughters of her family had been made to take. He knew it all and he had ignored it all, belittled it, brushed it aside as irrelevant. It made an unfurling sense of indignation rise within her. She picked up a handful of sand and threw it as far as she could. But the cold desert wind, dispersed it, carrying the specks over to the flames nearby. Tom watched as Jenna stormed off, her incensed feet stumbling against the softness of the sand. It was only then that he truly realised that what he had done would be forever unforgiven.

Movie Week - Writing Prompts

This is a story that spans 7 days around the theme of movie titles as writing prompts everyday. Here are the first three with the rest to follow as separate posts. Enjoy and let me know what you think. All comments welcome!

The Usual Suspects

When things go wrong, I

blame the usual six so

round of applause please.

***

Time, melancholy,

ambition and lethargy,

luck and the weather. 

The Departed

Those six have an uncanny way of creeping up on you when you're busy playing life. Allow me to name the names of those I blame: time, melancholy, ambition, lethargy, luck and the weather. They're like a dance ensemble moving in unison, shifting in and out of space, blending in form then separating to show their true shape. Each has its own unique way of romancing you until your consciousness is captured. You become beyond your own reach. Then by some knee-jerking event that shakes you back to your senses, you realise that you were incognito and that it’s too late.

This is what happened. Jenna had been trying to reach Sarah on her mobile all day. She had tried the night before too. And when Sarah hadn’t answered the call, she had brushed it aside, convinced that it had just been too late into the night. The sms and the missed call recorded on Sarah’s phone would suffice and soon enough, Sarah would be calling her back. But Sarah never did call her. She hadn’t even responded to her message. It was so unlike the close friend that she was.

Jenna slumped in the nearest armchair, curling up with phone in hand, rubbing her fingers in her furrowed forehead, anxiously trying to dig out an explanation. A flashback scurried past through her mind as she recalled their last meeting almost a year ago. Has it been that long, she mumbled to herself. Everyone knew of Jenna’s erratic and busy lifestyle. They also knew of her absent-mindedness and her tendency to forget, moan about the weather and fret. Those who knew Jenna well accepted that she was just the Jen she would always be. Jenna had managed to squeeze in an hour to meet up with Sarah and Tom whom she hadn’t seen in months. As she would only be in town for a few days, she had much to do before her subsequent flight. Sarah had arrived a little late, as usual, and in between the chatter and catch-up banter, Jenna had kept a timely check on her schedule. She had to be out of the café and in a taxi at exactly 12pm if she were to make it to her dentist’s appointment. The scene froze before her in her mind’s eye; that moment when Sarah had looked up at her just when Jenna had been saying her usual see-you-laters. Sarah had held on to her for the longest moment, her eyes wide and affixed on her face, searching, almost hoping for more time. It was a look that was yearning for lost moments and unsaid words, for things to be different and for a childhood that they had once shared. It was a look filled with the memories of the years that they had spent together and of the time they had known each other. It was Sarah’s moment of saying goodbye, although Jenna didn’t realise it at the time, nor did Sarah for that matter. But that scene that Jenna suddenly recalled now, as she sat there fiddling with the phone in her hands, filled her with a cold sweat. A rising panic threatened to engulf her as she sprang from the chair, banging her bare feet on the cold laminate flooring. She paced back and forth trying to think of a way to reach Sarah. And then the phone rang.

“Sarah?”

She hadn’t even given it time to ring. There was a long pause on the other end and the seconds ticked by filling Jenna with every passing moment with the growing assertion that her fears would soon be realised.

“Jen, it’s Tom.”

Jenna nodded to herself in slow motion, waiting to hear more. She opened her mouth to speak but her mouth had gone dry.

“Jen. I don’t know how to say this.” 

Jenna’s heart sank to the depths of the earth and all she could feel were the tears streaming down her face as her knees gave way. Sarah was gone. 

Memento

It had arrived in the post shortly after that tragic call. But Jenna only found it several months later, sitting on her coffee table, gathering dust. The original address on the package had been crossed out and numerous other forwarding addresses had been substituted. The sender’s address was old and faded. It was from Sarah.

An afternoon breeze gathered momentum and threatened to carry her away. Jenna sat on the bench, hands cradling the package, her gaze lost at the ocean’s horizon.

“Aren’t you gonna open it?”

Jenna flinched and brushed her hands against the roughened edges of the cardboard. She flicked a glance at a restless Tom who was sitting next to her and squeezed a soft smile. He had darkened circles under his eyes. Clearly he hadn’t been sleeping either. Was it guilt that he felt or was it an old longing? Either way, Sarah’s loss had left a void in both of their lives.

Jenna reached for the dried out strip of masking tape and tugged at it with one swift move. It didn’t require much effort as the cover gave way. There in the box lay a letter, a stack of photographs and the string of beads that they had spent many a summer designing together. She picked up the raspberry coloured necklace and turned the silver-plated pendant over. Friends forever, it said. She ran her thumb over the engraving that her young hands had carved many years ago and recalled their carefree days. 

After life, Simple, Controls, Tumbling - Writing Prompts

Here is what I wrote over the last week in terms of writing prompts :) Stay tuned for next week when I'll be posting the movie theme week series of prompts comprising one story that spans 7 days.

After life


Tiny fingers instinctively wrapped itself around her thumb. The new born was cradled in her arms, its tiny chest rising and falling, seemingly trying to get used to breathing in their new life. A soft caress on the face of the one who could make her believe in a life after a life. It was possible; she knew it now, to start over.

Simple


She looked rather simple,
from hair down to toes,
but her smile showed her dimple,
shaped just like a rose!

Controls

It was one of those moments in a prelude to a thriller. The lift jolted to a halt. The almost unacknowledged background hum of the air conditioner suddenly left an audible void. There was a flickering of the light bulbs above, the sudden consciousness of strangers within a confined space, accentuated breathing and exclamations from those around.

“You.have.got.to.be.kidding.me.” It was the man standing next to me, mumbling under his breath. Tall and overarching to say the least, he was already fidgeting with a rolled up newspaper. It almost seemed like he was about to whack the nearest person with it. I settled deeper into my corner and waited.

This wasn’t the first time today that the lift had broken down. Maintenance, was what the building management had said, a faulty set of controls that needed to be fixed. They also told us that we were not allowed to use the lifts during the day. But who would listen to a bunch of lift experts. Our managers on the other hand were the self-proclaimed experts. It was just like them to make us sit through fire drills, unmoved, undeterred, nonchalantly waving away the minutes. A slight technicality of lift maintenance was not about to stop us from getting to our offices. Come what may, it was our duty to see to it that we gave our full nine hours of work to the firm on a daily basis. At least that was what our managers had explained to us in exceptionally clear language. So here we were stuck in a box hanging between the sixth and seventh floors, waiting for the reassuring cranking sound that signalled that we were on the move again.

Ten minutes later

“I don’t care if you were caught in the middle of an avalanche, that report was due in an hour ago!”

“Yes but with all due respect, we were both stuck in that same blasted elevator.”

“I’m just about reaching the end of my tether with you…”

Luckily, that was all that my slave driver of a boss could manage as a precursor to a sacking. We conveniently got distracted by a power cut. A raging managing partner stormed out of the office, hurling abuse at a forlorn assistant nearby, leaving me with a smirk spreading slowly across my face.

“Alright, what have you done now?” I sighed shaking my head with relief, waiting for Sam to emerge.
A smug and confident Sam strode into the room. He never seemed to be far away when trouble was brewing in my work life.

“Let’s just say that the lift maintenance has now extended itself to the central nervous system of the building.”

“Sam, what have you done,” calm was the only way to deal with this impish character but I could barely hide my excitement to hear of yet another of his crazy endeavours.

“I switched the controls. It’ll take them days to find out the problem. We might as well all pack up and go home now."


Tumbling

A series of emotions
Leaves me fumbling for more
Tumbling through memories
Hitting right to the core. 

Fast

Here is part of my writing prompt for today: Fast


I think this might be the start of a really fun adventure story! So watch this space as I might be adding on to it.

Fast

I never had been a believer in those game-themed parties. What a waste of time and energy bringing a group of friends together, who hadn’t seen each other in years, just to set them off against each other. This one particular game, Fast, had become so popular that it was varied every year. Initially, it was a matter of how fast one could eat, or run, or get from Kurnell to Kempsie. Then it progressed to a bit more sophistication with the creative objective of how fast one could make-believe kill everyone else in the group whilst travelling across town in search of so-called treasure. It had caught on and had become so popular that very soon there was a Fast themed game in every town. For my sorry bunch of friends, it was one way of my making memories, I suppose, but mainly it was my only chance to see Lance, of course. So I would go along. And I would participate in these mundane and useless charades. If I could edge a word or two in, while everyone was busy trying to win a hopeless race, then to me that had to be victory even though it meant that I would always lose out on the prize. Neither had I known nor cared for some crummy prize. If I could get Lance to actually look at me and respond to a question or two, then I would later be driving back home feeling like the queen of the world. And if he dared smile at me, it would make my heart cartwheel for days and days after. Lance was a huge fan of Fast and had even become a member of the Fast fan group on Facebook. Of course, I had to become a member too. So whilst I despised and secretly ridiculed these games, the stalker in me had actively been seeking them out. These annual come quarterly get-togethers were something I had a love-hate relationship with. Something I would both wish for and dread at the same time. And then by some strange sequence of events, that were absolutely uncalled for and definitely unplanned, I won. Things took quite a different turn in my life since that day.

Ode to 'Wisdoms' Gone By

O Wisdom, your name!
You send notions of splendour,
with due respect and fame,
rarely met with real candour.

Four corners you strain,
at the point of a finger,
and a thought so lame,
"Why am I borne?" you wonder.

Your short lived acclaim,
stays through your peers - much grander,
but never the same
will your end be any kinder.

An end with no maim,
a mouth no less slender,
an end with no shame,
not even of murder.

Once thought of as game
to dispose of, like a vendor
who calls to proclaim,
invitation to tender.

O Wisdom, you came,
cutting through from way way under,
your words far from tame,
far from idle, far from banter.

Now you're just a frame,
can't lean on - you've gone tender,
a real tooth (exclaim!)
you're found in any gender.

The dentist proclaimed today that the best solution for the deep cavity lying beneath an already partially cemented and fairly subdued existence of a wisdom tooth was extraction. The words sent shudders through my root canal. 

My wisdom teeth have had their share of varied opinions from the haves and have-nots of extraction. There were those who saw it as affording itself the right to exist just by having gone through the effort of breaking through my gum surface and sitting in an egalitarian sense beside a 'regular' tooth, ready to observe its dental duties just like any other tooth. There were others who just saw it as another nuisance of a wisdom tooth that had to be destroyed forever more lest it should do future harm to the teeth nearby. In the end my gentler notions gave in, mostly due to my fear of dentists, injections and anything related. And over the years I never ever thought of these four 'pearlies' as my wisdom teeth. They were just like any other. When someone would speak about their wisdom tooth needing extraction, I would smile smugly and say that I still have mine and it was a case of till death do us part. There were occasions when I did have to visit the dentist for a sanity check - my teeth's that is. But so far it had always been more than one lucky fluke for these wisdom teeth of mine. No dentist had uttered the words extraction since my teens and the dentists I saw went about their tasks of cementing and filling in cavities that they were meant to bear. Of course, until today. 

It seems that everything does have to come to an end. My love affair with my wisdoms was under cut-throat-knife threat. The dentist stood there and bluntly gave me my two options. Root canal, treatment then crown if there is anything left of the tooth by then (he said casually) or extract it and forget about it forever (again casually). Shamelessly and without a shred of hesitation it was the instant judgement of: death of a tooth. And almost immediately, I felt its traits come alive. Don't call me tooth. Call me by my name. I'm nothing but a wisdom, shunned and unloved destined to an end, sometimes even before its begun. Momentary guilt pangs were no sooner than washed away. 

Finally, I can say that I am removing my wisdoms! And while the other three remaining wisdoms will mourn its loss in 2 weeks time when I am due to visit my evil dentist, I am sure that the only thing that will remind me of the missing wisdom is the post-mortem pain from the surgery. Perhaps a roaming, wandering tongue too...

Be Who You Want to Be

There comes a time when all you want to do is just find a way to realise the person within you. A nagging sensation that pokes at the corners of your mind will not relent until you do. Distractions are just that and you look at them as time wasting exercises. And anything else that you find yourself engaged in only weighs your heart down further. When that happens there really is only one thing to do. There really is only one way out of this because ignoring it will do nothing more than to exacerbate it further. You need to follow that unadulterated notion and set it free.

The cynics out there might frown and wag their fingers. Impulse can be risky business but so can an unfulfilled life; living to be only half the person that you are.

A job can be one of two extremes - no in-between - it is that dramatic. At one end, a job can be nothing more than the ordinary meaning of the word and a means of gaining one's livelihood. It is that circle of comfort that is stretched every now and then to expand your skills and knowledge but, always, remaining within the confines of that circle. That is what we were taught growing up - get a good job and enjoy the comforts of life. Most jobs falls into this category, even those jobs that feign promises of career glory and progression. I have seen it happen over again, the bright spark wanes and you find yourself settling into your circle. That is usually the reason why most people move on.

At the other end of the scale, a job can be the means to make you explore never-ending avenues of innovation within yourself, as a person and as an individual. The job stops being just a job and instead metamorphosises into a personal goal to allow you to give it all that you can. It is all about personal ownership, being the best that you can and making your job the best that there is. When that happens, know that you have crossed the fine line of being, breathing and feeling entrepreneurship.

Entrepreneurship does not have to be viewed in the black or white sense of starting your own business. Instead, it is a concept and a way of approaching your life and career goals. Ones which you can realise in any sort of environment that you find yourself in. When creativity and ideas, bursting at the seams, yearn to be brought to life, you know that there is no better time. Just be who you want to be; who you need to be. If the circle that you find yourself in becomes nothing more than a limitation, expand and distort it to allow it to fulfill your ideals. And failing that, channel your own path. Here or elsewhere.

I will caveat all this and say that the life of an entrepreneur is not meant to be easy. There will be challenges and brick walls that slam you in the face but think of the alternative. Once you have set foot on that path there truly is no turning back to a life half fulfilled. The setbacks and challenges that you will encounter will multiply your resolve and provide you with energy to encourage you to persist beyond your expectations. That is what realising dreams is all about. It becomes a  matter of survival to be the person whom you were always meant to be.

The Day After...

I woke up in a panic this morning. I woke up wondering what day it was. It was only just a few hours after the darkest hour of the night. And whereas I'd gone to bed in pitch darkness, amidst an unbroken stillness, I woke up now to a room filled with daylight. I was momentarily confused and disoriented.

It is the day after the Night of Determination. The Night of Power. A night when one's fate is written for the next year. A festival of the heavens and earth that occurs only but once a year. A night where angels descend from the heavens to witness the millions and millions of worshippers standing before the Creator. 

I spent the better part of the night under my living room lamp, reading Quran and praying. I prayed long and hard but I must admit my efforts were humbled compared to previous years. No matter how hard I tried to elevate myself and pray, to reach that level of awareness that transcends all that is worldly, I could not. I sighed and realised that I am human after all. The pressures and stresses that this year has put on me has limited my resources, physically and mentally. I persisted anyway with every sincere ounce I had in me until the early hours of the morning, just before the dawn prayer.

"Peace it is, until the break of dawn" I kept reciting the verse that refers to that Night of Determination from the Quran. All I needed to do was to be sincere in my prayers and to ask of God all of that which I wanted to achieve for the coming year. After all, this was "a night that was better than a thousand months".

I recalled the previous years when I had spent this time in the company of others in a nearby mosque. Praying together always added to the spiritual element and just knowing that we all stood before the Almighty's Grandeur in equal submission would add to my heart's elation. And of course there were the angels that would treat this night as a festival, descending on our worldly skies to witness such an annual event. I would always feel humbled by the sobriety of this.

So I woke up this morning trying to sense a difference within me. I wondered whether my prayers would be answered, whether I had in fact witnessed the Night of Determination with all its blessings. I wondered what fate was written for me for the coming year. I woke up in a panic wondering whether I had done enough. It never is enough. But still, enough to a degree.

And when I couldn't get any answers, I tried to brush aside the worry and confusion, forcing a smile within my heart. God is the Kindest, Most Generous and will never let me down. So it was time to rejoice, believe and trust in the knowledge that change is coming and it will all be for the best. 

Breathless

It has been ages. I return to my cosy blog feeling like a stranger who has been away for too long, waiting for familiarity and with it, comfort, to set in. I look back and my life a few months ago was very different than it is today. Happy or sad is not the issue, it's not the question. Time doesn't allow for any of those sensibilities. Today, it's all about a robotic sense of soldiering on to make it through to the destination. I feel like I'm embarking on a never ending journey, being swept along just to get to the end. No time to breathe. No time to stop. No time to reflect or do any of the things like make me feel like a basic human.

I miss photography and writing and all the other things that I used to enjoy doing. The things that I would find myself through them, that would unleash my creative force. 

But there's no time for even that. It's all about soldiering on and all that I pray for is that when I do reach my destination in the end, that I will be satisfied and happy and content. A shadow of doubt casts itself. I fear that all that I will find in the end is a transformed shadow of a person and nothing but eternal loneliness.

Good Fortune

I feel blessed these days. Actually, that sounds a bit arrogant. I should feel blessed every single day for the things I have which I take for granted. But I suppose what I mean is that I feel blessed in an overt fashion. When you feel kindness descend on you and touch you gently and lovingly, that is when you feel blessed. The feeling of being blessed and cherished is special.

I thought I should title this posting good fortune because that feeling - of being blessed - is a blessing in itself. Good fortune is subjective. Today it manifests itself in that blessing for me. That small window that allows you to view a unique and special scene, even if it's temporary and you know that you only have a moment to enjoy it. That moment is the blessing of being able to experience something only you can experience. That is good fortune. 

The little things we go through on a daily basis that allow us to become who we are, are symbols of good fortune. The little things that make us smile. These are symbols of good fortune. And most of all, the people in our lives are symbols of good fortune.