They apologised for my existence, convinced I was a mistake.
There were tears, prayers and more tears.
I heard their cries; I tried my best to open my eyes.
It’s only been six weeks and they now apologise for my passing away.
It’s been a while – a very very long while – since I last posted on this blog. So much has happened.. so much good and only good. I fell in love and am in a (very) happy relationship with the nicest and most supportive human being I’ve known, I met my closest friend after ages, I moved to England to do my Master’s.. I can go on.
I’ve always felt that I was (am) a very negative person, mostly because I worry too much. I create all this drama in my head when I think about challenging situations and in doing so, I only expect the worst. So, for the past two years, I’ve actively tried to overcome these anxious and negative feelings and I may not be over these feelings completely, but I do notice sometimes, how far I’ve come with the way I handle situations positively. That makes me feel good.
Of course, there’s always times where I relapse into negative thinking and dramadramadrama. So, I constantly try to look for ways – often by reading helpful articles written by others – that will help me be happier and stay positive.
One approach I’ve begun recently, is to directly tell people what I admire about them. Sometimes, I think I sound silly like I’m cheering a 7-year-old on – my voice gets all high-pitched -, but I’ve been doing it anyway. It’s also getting easier for me to compliment people, which sounds very normal and is something people do everyday. But is it?
I think, with all the negativity in this world right now, we all need a bit of positivity and encouragement from time to time. Letting people know that I appreciate and notice that they’ve done something nice or even offering a simple compliment makes me happy. Even smiling at a stranger (who smiles back, of course) has the ability to make my day!
So, try it.
Spread some love and positivity in the smallest way you can – it is more powerful than you think it is.
“Ooga-chaka ooga ooga, ooga-chaka ooga ooga”
This song’s been stuck in my head since I watched Guardians of the Galaxy AND one of my favourite Tarantino’s, Reservoir Dogs, both in the same week. Now I’m hooked on Hooked on a Feeling.
Although I’d much prefer the song without the chant, which was how it was originally recorded by B.J. Thomas in the 60s, I can’t help admitting it is such an earworm, and I often march around the house “ooga-chaka”-ing to my family and most of the time, to myself. (Yes, my second name is Weirdo.)
I’m starting a new series called the Bun-Butter-Jam It Up, where I’ll post my favourite song of the week.
Who better than to give the honour of my first post to…. Kwabs!
Kwabs, short for Kwabena Adjepong, is a young and upcoming British singer with the voice of an angel. Listening to him makes me feel like I live in a world with dragonfly bunnies. What a world that would be. Sigh!
Have a listen to his latest single and my first Bun-Butter-Jam It Up track, Walk. A bit ‘poppier’ than his usual RnB/soul style (oh yes, this brother’s got soul!), but as beautiful. Enjoy!
If you likey, check out his incredible acoustic sessions. Yumm!
I’ve made it one of my missions this year to read a book a month, since I’ve been such a measly reader in the past few years.
So far so good…
It’s July and I finished reading my sixth book and the first of my Murakami adventures, Kafka on the Shore, earlier this month. The future looks bright! Safe to say, this is the beginning of a long magical Murakami journey for me.
I don’t think I’m in a position to call Murakami my favourite author just yet, but Kafka on the Shore had me hooked from the beginning to the end. I found myself reading the novel during my 5 minute wait for the bus, 15 minute bus ride to work and back, even while shopping with my cousin (shhh…) and whenever and wherever else I could – something I haven’t done before.
A lot of people feel that Murakami’s novels are pretentious. I agree that many are probably not suited to his kind of surreal storytelling, but one way I would describe Kafka on the Shore is therapeutic. It was to me, at least.
I encourage you to read the novel if things like an old man being able to talk to cats and make fish rain from the sky, and a plot that is as confusing as Jamie Oliver’s kids’ names (Poppy Honey, Daisy Boo and Petal Blossom Rainbow… really??), interest you. Not to mention, unexplained endings and well, no ending really. Um, and the really slow plot. Hey, don’t say I didn’t warn you!
On that note, I’ll leave you with one of my favourite extracts from the novel:
“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”
― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore
I graduated with a degree in Journalism, Literature and Psychology. Since graduating, I’ve only worked in Events and PR. Now, I’ve decided to switch to Education. Not because I don’t like what I’m doing, but only because I want to work with children. And I don’t even love children all that much!
My life’s about to change.
This is something I’ve wanted for the past two years – to work with kids -, and more so in the last few months. The new job will make me a certified Cognitive Trainer. Sounds fancy, right? It is! I get to help kids improve their cognitive skills, which will consequently improve important brain functions such as their attention and memory, and help them to do better academically and in other non-academic areas like sports. It means having to also work with children who have learning difficulties, which can get hard and challenging.
It’ll be hard and challenging to work with children of all kinds, especially since I haven’t ever done anything like this before.
And that isn’t even the confusing part.
I’m quitting my full-time fairly-well paying PR job, which I actually like, and possibly making the worst move for my career in Communications, for…… a part-time job to…. work with children for…… less than half the pay.
What am I even doing? Does this even make sense?
I haven’t even worked with children before. I don’t even know whether I’m good at this. I’m not even a patient person by nature. Just what am I doing?
I’m grateful for having supportive parents.
I’m grateful for all the super jobs and opportunities I’ve had that have made me who I am today.
My life’s about to change!
All this week, I’ve been in training for the teaching job, and have had to observe other trainers in action. And it’s only made me more eager to do this.
It may not have been the best decision for my career, but it’s probably the best decision I’ve taken for, and in, my life so far.
This is my small way of making a difference in the world – by making a difference to these little kids’ lives. Call me naïve, call me confused, but I’ll still say what I need to say.