Rambling from December '12

12-12-12 is the date today.  Apparently, there’s supposed to be something special about it, what with all those 1s and 2s. If you ask me, the only special thing about it is that I am awake, alive and breathing to see a new dawn, thank you GOD. Sitting at this desk, looking out through the glass door, I notice how our thoughts are influenced by what we see. A man crossing the road, with a baby strapped across his chest; a sick wife perhaps, or just a hands-on dad. I wonder, if I ever do get married, what type of a father my husband will be. Hopefully, he’ll be one who’ll want to play with the kids in the backyard and spend as much time with them as I will.

A young woman walks by, yawning like she’s determined to swallow a fly; how unlady-like. What tells a cultured woman apart from one who isn’t? Is it the way she dresses? The way she walks perhaps? Better yet, could it be the way she carries herself and what she portrays to the world? If you asked me, I’d say it’s a combination of all the above and more. It is not enough to dress appropriately, or walk with an acceptable or elegant gait, one has to live, act and be the part. How you behave when you think no one else is looking is also just as important, after all it is then that your true character shines through. 

A young man walks by, pants hanging low, shirt a few sizes too large and shoes different shades of white. I wonder what makes him tick, what drives him, what image he hopes to portray. Is it choice or circumstance?

It’s raining, raining hard. Been looking forward to such weather, even though I hoped it would get like this over a weekend, when I didn’t need to be at work.

I was hoping to write something deep, that will get me thinking when I read through it later but apparently not, my mind refuses to focus and is dancing all over the place, urging me to just type whatever.

A woman walks by, silver lines were her eyebrows used to be. What is that? Why would you do that? On which planet does that count as ‘beautifying’ yourself?  Orange face (aka bleached face)? What’s the point if the rest of your body is as dark as they come? Not like someone’s only ever going to be looking at your face.  To think even men do that to themselves these days is just such a shame.

Am I a tad bit critical? Maybe. But so is everyone else who has opinions about as many things as I do. One can’t just accept certain things as standards simply because everyone else is doing it or considers it ‘normal’, after all normal is relative. I know I don’t, conforming to standards is not for me.

The feeling you get when you read the last word of the last page of a book, and you have to close the book. Hoping you could read more?  Wishing you hadn’t read it as fast? Or maybe wishing you had read it a little faster.  I find that feeling relates to a lot more practical things. Relationships are one; say friends, family, love interests. I suppose it also applies to phases or time periods. Times you wish you could go back to and re-live, or times you’d rather erase, shove to a dark corner at the back of you brain.

If you could see me now, I wonder if you’d be proud. If you could tell me one more time respect is earned, that humility before hard work gets you places and that most importantly the fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.  I cut my hair, finally. After all the times you tried talking me into it, I finally did it; on my own. Reckon you’d have gone on and on about how alike we look. I know you wouldn’t have been too happy with last year’s grades, but I made it to fourth year. I made it to that final year with a clean slate. We had so many plans; graduation, post grad, n thereafter. I die a thousand deaths every time I think about it; it’s the one gift I so badly wanted to give you. To see the pride on your face, it would have meant the world to me. I still look for your face, in my dreams. Smiling, laughing, seated at the kitchen table having that conversation we had one too many times.

Sometimes, in the heat of everything else, I get excited about the future. I am so excited for what I hope this year will bring and where it will lead me. What I’ll see, where I’ll go, who I’ll meet.  And then in the heart of the excitement, am reminded so many things may go wrong.

Somewhere over the rainbow, what a beautiful song! Gets me all the time. First you think it’s the broken heart, but what’s going to kill you is the second part.

Hey, my name is Dee, am very indecisive (psych).  I used to know exactly what I wanted and when, now I just know what I don’t want, rarely what I want. I get bored quite easily, with things and sometimes people, which is not something am very proud of. I change my hair every other week, something about re-inventing yourself. I always thought or wanted to get married when I was 27; that’s only four years from now. I haven’t met anyone I think I’d like to spend the rest of my life with; the one I thought I would be with for the longest time didn’t stay as long as I hoped. I want to have a girl someday, call her Oswellah, which would be cute. She would have big beautiful eyes, or maybe not, but still beautiful. I don’t know yet what I would like to call him if I had a boy. I always thought I’d want three kids, but now I think 2 will be just fine; granted am blessed enough to have a boy and girl. The thought of child birth however knocks the day lights out of me; yes, it terrifies me that much. The thought of all that pain, and fear of the unknown I suppose, just gives me the creeps. But I keep telling myself I’ll make a sexy pregnant girl (lol), yes, I’ll be that baby mama to be with the hundred and one short dresses.

What’s my type of guy? Hmm, honestly I don’t know. I always thought tall, dark and handsome was my type, but I am yet to date someone who fits that criteria. I want an independent guy, not necessarily financially right now, but someone who intends to be soon enough. I want ambition, drive and cultured persona. I want a decisive guy, no point in both of us being indecisive. I want him to know Christ, take me as I am and make me want to be a better person. I want him firm, but not harsh; attentive but not needy; protective but not possessive.

I am impatient, best believe I have tried countless times to work on it, but patience just seems to elude me.

‘The days I can’t see your eyes, I don’t even want to open mine, Chester See is brilliant.