Tag Archives: Honesty

The ridiculousness of us all

I get the most bizarre emails and questions every day.  I can either get annoyed, or laugh.  And to be honest, I choose the latter.

For instance, a lady enquired about a course today and I replied by email, giving the details and asking if she wants me to reserve her place.  She replies by telling me:  “No, I will go back home the same day”.

What?  Really?  I have a hotel?

But it has to do with a different frame of reference, a different education and a different culture.  What seems ridiculous to me is a perfectly normal assumption to the other person.  Like when they tell me they are on their way to Hollywood but need to start somewhere.  Or that they are the next big thing on the world’s stage.  Hey!  I hope so too.

I do have days where I get annoyed because it is one ridiculous question or comment after the other.  But luckily most of the time my sense of humour wins the battle and I land up sitting here with tears in my eyes.

 

 

 


On blogging

I am now in my fourth month of blogging and I have decided to capture the experience so far, in the hope that when I look back, perhaps in a year, that I, and the experience, would have matured or altered in some way.

Why did I start in the first place?  For one reason and one reason only, to get back into the habit of writing.  I had stopped for so many years that I just the thought of writing scared me.  I saw blogging as a way to get back into the groove, which meant, writing daily.

Initially I found it difficult to blog every day.  I had a million excuses and fifty other things to do.  I would stare at my blank screen, read my mail, write a sentence, check my Facebook page, etc.  Ad nauseum.  I do still do it but less often.

I have learnt that you can skip a day or so, but missing a week diminishes traffic to such an extent that you almost have to start from scratch.  Or maybe just when You are a new blogger.  Anyway, the discipline that goes with the exercise has been so beneficial.  In the beginning I felt that I had to finish my daily post by a certain time.  Now it doesn’t matter anymore, as long as I write.

With a bit more writing behind me, I have found that the editing time has decreased somewhat.  Initially I would write for thirty minutes and edit for three hours.  Now I am less anal about it and to be honest, I really don’t have that kind of time.  I have eased up on myself, allowing for the fact that nothing in life is perfect.  Anyway, even had I edited one post for twenty hours, I would still not have been satisfied.  At some point one has to let go.  Put the baby in the crib so to speak.  A useful tool that I learnt early on in life is not to start editing until I had finished writing.  Editing while writing takes long and is discouraging.  Writing should not be a chore.

At first I had difficulty coming up with daily ideas and made use of Digg, Plinky and similar websites.  Now, I grab an event or a thought that stood out during the day, and elaborate on it.

Today strangely enough, was different.  I had no clue what to say.  I turned to my son for ideas.

Typically boy, he replied:  “I don’t know Mommy, anything” .

“Please Kyle, just throw words at me, anything that comes into your head”.

“I really can’t think of anything Ma, why don’t you just write about blogging”.

Thank you Kyle.

I have learnt a load of new skills.  From blog building to tagging and publicising on other platforms.  The list is endless.  And as life would have it, no sooner had I learnt a new skill than I needed it for another area in my life.  For once I did not have to waste time asking Google.

I must confess, I do not look for blogs, simply because I don’t have the time.  But, when someone likes one of my posts, or comments on it, I take the time to read their About page as well as their latest post.  If it appeals to me, I follow the blog via email so that I can read it on my phone at night.

As for my own blogging style, it is not topical, nor am I concerned with current events.  I have opened myself up and I blog honestly, about myself.  I do refrain from using names when I write about others because I have no intention of offending or hurting them.

I don’t know if my blog is enjoyable, or whether any of it speaks to anyone.  What I do know is that if only one person learnt something, laughed at something, or thought about something after I had shared of myself, it is a bonus.  Over and above what I had set out to do.

There is a lot I still don’t know about blogging but I know that in time, I will learn.  I don’t know what would be considered a good amount of traffic.  What is a good hit rate after six months, or a year?  But I don’t care about that too much.  Like I said, I blog for no other reason than to write.  I would be lying though if I said I did not like seeing feet through my cyber heart.

In summary I can say that on the whole, blogging has been richly rewarding to me personally.  Not because thousands of people read what I have to say, but because I feel a sense of accomplishment every time I press ‘publish’.  I really do.  And it is because I did what I love.  The reward is even greater on the days that I did not feel like it.

So, as for my blog and I, we shall soldier on.


Relationships have to be Transparent

Most of my relationships are of the honest kind.  Or rather, my most meaningful bonds are built on complete transparency.  With people who have seen my good, bad and ugly, and still want me as a friend.

These friends do not judge.  They might occasionally express concern, or gently point out an ugly, but they love and appreciate all the time.

They are people who do not care to let their hair down in front of me, and who allow me to do the same.  I never have to feel embarrassed about anything I have done, or about a way in which I behaved, because they take me as I come.  And they like me because I am willing to just be me, on display, in front of them, warts and all.

Friendships like these are hard to find, and so worth keeping.  They put together on an understanding of mutual faults, and on the insight that we all carry our own bag full and that it is not for us to question what another has to bear.

I did not know all this until I was older, though I wanted to be that which I saw in my mind’s eye.  I could not ever really feel it because I did not really act it.  Now I do because I understand that what I am is what I am, and that those who do not care for me, can do without me.  And I don’t mind.

I never feel quite comfourtable with non-transparents.  That ‘something’ is always between us.  And I know what it is, even if they don’t.  I have a built-in radar for real and make-believe.  Life is easier when you are unaware of this though.  Relationships seem more rosy and true.  But you are less aware of the importance of guarding your heart, and so you will be injured.

I don’t get hurt that easily anymore though, because someone taught me in the worst possible way.  I won’t cry again over a relationship, unless it is my fault.  Because if you keep your eyes open, you can see most things coming.  It is the University of Life as far as I am concerned, and thank you to everybody involved.  You cured me of my friendship romanticism.

Today, I prefer my friends roasted.  Tested and true.  Genuinely real so that I can make an informed decision about whether I want you in my life or not.   It can never ever though, be based on grudges and there has to be a comprehension that I can be wrong when I think I am right.

Every person that crosses my path in life is important, whether for a season, or a lifetime.  I shall keep an open mind, I shall give you a second, a third, a fourth up to a whatevereth chance.   But if you show that your true colours are grey, I shall not give you my heart.  I’ll keep my innermost thoughts to myself and give you that which floats to the surface.

Because love conquers all.


When is a house a Home?

For me, home means safety and security.  That is what our armed robbery almost destroyed.

It is also a place of love, comfourt, forgiveness and caring.  We should feel safe inside our homes, protected from the outside world.  But we should also feel secure in one other, and protected by one another.

The people in a home should be transparent with each other, yet have enough love to overlook a host of transgressions.  I am reminded of Liz Murray, in her book Breaking Night:  A Memoir of Forgiveness, Survival, and My Journey from Homeless to Harvard of which I wrote in a previous blog.  Her parents were both drug addicts and she was out on the streets early on.  I kept wondering why Liz became the success story that she is in spite of her background and circumstances.  The only answer that presented itself to me was love.  Her parents were honest about what they were, and they loved her.  She never doubted that and it was this love that allowed her to rise above what seemed to be her destiny.

Inside a house there might be much or little, neither which make for a loving home.  Parents who admit their mistakes do.  Children who respect their parents though they might not agree, do.  People who accept one another’s faults, do.

Two, or four, or however many people living together have to be able to give one another space.   My Uncle and Aunt had seven sons, one after the other, nine in one house which was by no means spacious.  They had to learn to cohabit their home in a way that made them one unit, yet where each still had enough space to be an individual.

It is not always easy to share your space with others, especially if your personal bubble is big, and you crave a lot of ‘me time’.  But therein lays the secret.  That which hurts, grows.  That which scrapes and scours, builds.  That is what the people in your home do.  They build character in you, they teach you, and they grow you.

Left to yourself, you would never become what you are ultimately, capable of being.