Heads-up: Heart on Sleeve

All my synapses have been firing since last night. Felt like I needed a block o' ice on my brain! And, yes, it was all because of a TT that @MizDurie started: #PSMBookTitles.  Funny stuff. Sad commentary on governance in Jamaica.

But, I'm here now. My lil corner of cyberspace. Ahhhhh. I've been thinking about the content for today's post for some time. As they say in the making of movies, "Let's cut to the chase."

I heard somewhere sometime ago that when it comes to new relationships, the older you get, the faster you know. It didn't take me long to realize what was meant by that. For, truly, somewhere near or after I reached Forty, it was like I was seeing and experiencing human interactions for the first time, clothed with a keen sense of the foolishness up with which I would not put.

And, of course, that applied to the men I met.

I have to say here: No one will ever get me to speak bad about "men in general." I have a beautiful example of a man man; a wonderful gentleman - my father. And, in my now extended family, there are really nice men - my Brothers-in-Law. I'm pretty sure I've said it here before: People are people wherever you go. And, someone who has been unkind or hurtful is just that - someone who was unkind or hurtful. I don't "fry other people in one person's fat" as the saying goes.

But, there is such a thing as wisdom. And, it is not wise to have learned a lesson, only to repeat the same mistake two, three or more times. They say by the time you're Forty, you would likely have met all the types of people you're ever going to meet. Pretty cool, huh? The new people you now meet remind you of someone else you've met...

Over the years, I've met a few very nice men. Others were not so nice - in the end. Dated outside of my race. Always dated older. Along the way, I've picked up a few lessons in gems. They are my gems. If you learn something from them, fine. If not, that's fine, too. I just know that, as that saying goes, we "learn from the mistakes of others. We can't live long enough to make them all ourselves." Now, what may drive one woman crazy, I may probably be like, pshhh! And, what may get on my last nerve would probably not faze another woman in the least. My point, know yourself and come clean from the start. Btw,  the "he" is used in a deliberately abstract way - not referring to all of them but may draw on traits common to more than one of them.

Keeping his word

This is important to me. A man keeps his word. But, he repeatedly broke his word. Even a small commitment seemed like an onerous task. Always said he was gonna be there, but, 8 times out of 10, didn't show. Nor did he call, or text, before, during, or after the disappointment. This was very early on and I slowly acknowledged that he was just not into me. I imagine that if things had gone on, he would've been the kind of person to leave me standing at the altar. I summed it up as a "cycle of disappointment" and, although it was hard at first, it came to pass that we settled into something along the lines of acquaintances.

The way he speaks

I had the pleasure of listening to Lorna Goodison, a Jamaican poet (now residing in Canada) as she read from one of her books years ago. I was in my late teens and had, by then, got drawn into poetry. I don't recall the title of the poem (and I'm not going to Google it. Google and I aren't speaking right now.) But, the part that got me was: He wooed her with words and he won her / He had nothing but words to woo her.  (It was about her father and mother.)

Another point before I make the point. My mother told me long ago - perhaps mid-teens - that "women fall in love through their ears; men fall in love through their eyes." Ever since then, something trips in when I hear a man speak to me in that certain way. It's like...like my pulse reaction is on a 2-second delay or something. Y'know? Like the TV coverage of Nik Wallenda crossing over Little Canyon the other day - just in case tragedy struck? Yeah. Kinda like that.

Now, when he wrote to me, it did not pass Go. The words were immediately emblazoned upon my brain where they will spend the rest of my life. Ok. A bit of an exaggeration, but, you catch my drift. Words on paper  - like, real real letter! - or on a screen, that I'll have to look over and over and over again, caress my senses and invite me in to come, stay a while. That makes my heart glad.

Raising his voice

He raised his voice at me and started to belittle me; tried to tear me down in his insecurity. Something said, "Wake up. This is verbal abuse. A two-fer, really - verbal and emotional and, well a three-fer - psychological as well. And, this is ugly." It made my heart sad.

None ever raised his hand at me. But, I would not have needed to be told twice to get out of that "friendship." Now.

Terms of endearment

The friendship seemed to be on his terms. He reached out only when he wanted something like dinner or so. He lost interest mid-way after he'd had his fill of conversation or dinner or so. It is never nice to feel that you are being taken for granted or so.

Priorities priorities
He placed me on the back-burner. And, I could never be in the right as far as he was concerned. What's the saying? Don't let someone be your number one if they treat you like you're number two? Or, don't let someone be your priority when you're only an option?

  

The NABA Zone

In the beginning, he made me laugh with gladness. Then, as things progressed, more and more I cried in sadness. As I've written in this blog before, no loneliness feels as bad as being miserable hurts. At times the behaviour was like someone just "hanging on 'til the right one comes along." I call that the NABA Zone - Not Available But Available. Who wants, when they're asked, "Are you seeing someone?" to find themselves going, "Well, not really. No." You're not really seeing someone? Then what are you really doing? That situation can't be fair - for either of you. You can do better. And, sometimes, doing better means doing without.

Self-explanatory
He cheated on me. No pain so great. No second chance.

God is holding my heart

Now, the heart and soul of the one for me may be in a tall white bald guy or a short white bald guy or a tall black bald guy or a short black bald guy...You see where I'm going with this, yes? And, it may be that the Lord would have me wait a bit longer or a little longer than a bit longer for that one who is right for me. What I do know is this. God loves me. And, if I knew nothing else, that would be enough. But, I also know that He is holding my heart. And, He is teaching me how to love, in spite of imperfections - not to be confused with ugly. He knows how persnickety and what not I get. How? Exhibit A: After tweeting whole night on the topic, I sent emails of book titles tweets to myself at three o'clock this morning because my synapses were firing. That how. I trust Him to bless me with someone who will get me and "love me anyway" - and who would come check on me to see whether I'm okay why I'm still not in bed at three o'clock. Although, I dunno. It's likely that if he were here already, the tweets would have had to wait. Zi mi. ;-)

He is holding my heart. "Sit still, my daughter, until thou know how the matter will fall." Ruth 3:18

Claudia 

www.cyopro.com

www.twitter.com/cyopro

A Rescuer of Things

There's a quote I came across last October. It goes:

“You know what getting married is? It's agreeing to taking this person who right now is at the top of his form, full of hopes and ideas, feeling good, looking good, wildly interested in you because you're the same way, and sticking by him while he slowly disintegrates. And he does the same for you. You're his responsibility now and he's yours. If no one else will take care of him, you will. If everyone else rejects you, he won't. What do you think love is? Going to bed all the time?”
- Jane Smiley

I loved it the moment I read it. Shared it in a few consecutive tweets, too. When I got to the end, I kinda wanted to answer, "So, ummm, wait...what?" Lol! As a friend of mine said to me sometime last year, love alone isn't enough [for marriage]. And, whaddya know? Turns out that the make-up of the love itself might be different than what you had long envisioned.

All these things. (As a sis would say.) My thoughts turned to "these things" as I pored over almost two decades of writing the other night. Like, seriously. I'm gonna have to stop writing! ....... Hahahahahahahaha! I crack me up! Too funny! Okay. By that I mean... Actually, nothing comes to mind. Here's the thing. Perhaps I could just keep doing what I'm doing and, after a while, see what needs to go. Fast. And, unceremoniously. Because, well, I tend to keep it all. I'm gonna resist the temptation to list some of the things I've kept since nineteen long time.

I'm not a hoarder, per se. Hmm. Reminds me of a preview of "Hoarders" that was being shown repeatedly in the run-up to the broadcast date. As the woman in the clip cast a glance at the mountain of stuff in her house, she summed up her life's philosophy in this memorable piece: "I wouldn't say I'm a hoarder. I'm a rescuer of things."  Uh-huh.

My defence? I hold on to, and take care of, the things that mean a lot to me. Those "things" would include the pages and pages of thoughts on my friendships and relationships and interactions and passing fancies... When I came across the ones spanning about four months in 1996, I just knew that their retention period was up. And, it's not as if I had ever planned to have a retention period for these reams and wads and stacks of paper and books. I just figured I'd keep writing until I could no longer hold a pen or pencil to paper (including napkins, restaurant receipts...). What would family I'd have left behind do with the lot? No idea. I imagine, my life being spared, that it might be a good idea to put some instructions down somewhere. I mean, I still dream of becoming a world-renowned writer. In years to come, perhaps long after I'm gone, those pieces may very well become highly sought-after relics.

So, what caused me to ditch that batch? Quite simply, it was ugly. I felt like I was fingering a scar that I had somehow discovered a new fascination for. And, as I passed my finger over it, I couldn't resist picking at it then digging away at it. Like I was trying to figure out why and how I got that mark in the first place. And, for those twenty or so minutes that I dug and read - after a while I skimmed - I began to feel sickish. I no longer held it dear and it meant nothing to me now. There was no answer coming to complete the "I need to hold on to this because...". I did have a very ready answer for why it needed to go. There was no longer a place for such ugly in the beauty of the now.

There were no second thoughts. It was one of those things that, when you're doing it, or about to do it, you just know it's right. It's even beyond the realm of knowing to just being right. No long prayer, just time to act. So, I rolled up the papers, put 'em in my bag and took them to my workplace the following day. (Felt I needed to use the shredder that minces paper.) And, quite unceremoniously, I pulverized them!

After all, there are new things that are springing forth; new things for me to hold dear and take care of.  The beauty of the now shall be clutter-free. I gotta make room for the new things to grow. For, apparently, love is more than "going to bed all the time."


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Beyond Extraordinary

As we take a look around us, tune in (even when we don't) to media of all shapes, sizes, colours, bytes and networks, we are bound to see someone who is trying to be extraordinary - and freakishly so.  What is just as certain, is that there will also be someone who is trying to go beyond extraordinary - and freakishly so.

Of course, a few persons come to  mind: Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta aka Lady Gaga; Adidja Palmer aka Vybz Kartel (or should that be "Vybz "Michael 'Cakesoap' Jackson" Kartel" - yes, a couple aliases layered inside a primary alias. Whatever! ) And, not too long out of the gate, with 2.2M+  followers behind him in under a week, Carlos Irwin Estevez aka Charlie Sheen aka Warlock (acclaimed "Winner!", drinker of "Tiger Blood" and spewer of other claims and utterances that are sure signs of an implosion happening in T minus ???)  Just hope somebody knocks him over the head and drags him into a space where he can really get the help he doesn't realize he needs; where the media can stop milking his rants for ratings.

It kinda reminds me of the line from The Incredibles:  "When everyone is special, no one is special."

So, why the push to be extraordinary?  Why the mad race to go beyond extraordinary?  What's the alternative?

The answer surely isn't "Be yourself", for those who fall in either category will be quick to tell you that that's exactly what they're doing.  They're being their own unique selves.  And others who are apparently, by comparison, bordering on "ambitionless"?  Is it that we lack the brand of fire to desire to stand out?  To stand out "that much"? To stand out "so"?

For, I imagine, that the crux of the matter might just lie therein.  The terror of becoming satisfied with being "just part of the crowd"; of being "a nobody".

Well, does the fact that "the world" - definition: YouTwitFace (as Conan puts it) - doesn't know about you, make you less than extraordinary? Keep you, and what you do, from being "beyond extraordinary"?

Says who?  Who's in charge of putting value on you, your vocation, talent, contribution...?

Yet, it's so easy to get deeply immersed in what is being fed to us through every orifice, it seems.  So easy to get and remain distracted for an inordinately long time by the self-acclaimed "value adders"; those with the "value stamp of approval"; those who, in the long run - in this long race - build the "value metre", measure us, find us wanting or not; lift us up or tear us down and so on and so forth.


Do those who strive to be extraordinary in these freakish, "celebritized" ways not soon become creatures - although, to be honest, I'm thinking more puppets - of the "value adders" et al on whose approval they feed?  Do they not constantly try to outdo their last doing, to keep energizing the masses who, in turn, keep them elevated (we bow at your feet, your extraordinariness).

Maybe it's a symbiotic relationship, after all -  i.e., if we could loosely apply the term "relationship".  

And, maybe, we're near the tipping point where they're all beyond extraordinary so none of them is beyond extraordinary.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

The Day She Shout Out Loud

She convinced herself that there wasn't anything wrong in doing this.  There's a community for it, why not give it a GO?  (If you knew her routine, you'd get it.)  After all, one never knows, does one?

So, she submitted her Shout Out to the (perceived) widely popular evening newspaper:

OK. It's now or never.  I've mustered up the appropriate amount of courage and the butterflies are flying in V-formation.  LSW; originally from Jamaica; [inserted age] SBF; MA degree; great job w/govt (& love what I do); closely-knitted family (we actually like each other); never married; hope to be; no children; want children; Christian; love to journal/write/blog/tweet; baggage? outdated carry-on; laugh a lot; happy; gym 2-3x/wk; romantic; movies at home; like cooking n dancing n bowling n Monk; hate doing laundry (just sayin'.)  Ready to love (n be loved by) Mr. Right-for-me.  “Opposites attract but likes stay together.”  Could you see us getting and staying together? And, most important, do you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?  There.  I said it.  (Shout) Out loud. Tee hee.  S.O. folks, if you want a wedding invitation, you’d better post this! *crosses fingers* - Monk Fan [inserted email address]

Three days later, they published her ad, with edits.  The kind that were agreeable.  She wrote and told them so - as well as thanks for publishing it, of course.  After all, one should be thankful for free (personal) ad space, mustn't one?

OK. It's now or never.  I've mustered up the appropriate amount of courage and the butterflies are flying in V-formation.  LSW; originally from Jamaica; [inserted age] SBF; MA degree; great job w/govt; closely-knitted family; never married, hope to be; no children, want children; Christian; love to journal/write/blog/tweet; baggage? outdated carry-on; laugh a lot; happy; gym 2-3x/wk; romantic; movies at home; like cooking n dancing n bowling n Monk; Ready to love (n be loved by) Mr. Right-for-me.  Opposites attract but likes stay together.  Could you see us getting and staying together?  S.O. folks, if you want a wedding invitation, you’d better post this! *crosses fingers* - Monk Fan [inserted email address]

Then, she waited.  A pastime that had become familiar...

Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Wrote a novel in 25 days

Purposely omitted the exclamation sign in the title. For, by now, it's not about an announcement, per se. (OK.  One more peek at my Winner badge...)

It really is more like a quiet and sobering realization. Imagine taking up the challenge to write a novel of at least 50,000 words in 30 days, on the 5th day in! At the start, I was behind, but knew I wanted to do it anyway. I went at it with the appropriate number if butterflies in my stomach.

The organizers (NaNoWriMo)knew what they were talking about wrt the reliable muse of public humiliation. That helped. But, in the end, what did I learn? About writing? About my ability? About relationships?


ABOUT WRITING
Writing a novel is hard. It is like ... well, it's UNlike anything else I've ever done. (I hear it's like giving birth, but I don't have first hand experience of that yet.) First, you wonder, why did I set out to do this again? And, after you've convinced yourself that it makes sense to do it, (for whatever your reason), you find that it's harder than you imagined. You then pause, having begun, (and knowing that others are watching you try to accomplish the feat), to ask yourself whether you really like writing or whether you like the IDEA of writing or being a writer. (Gotta say, it's a lovely idea.)

Once you've convinced yourself that you are indeed a writer and you don't just like the idea of writing or being a writer, you proceed. And, at some point, it hits you, you are not alone in whatever state you may find yourself. Even the best of the best; the New York Times-bestselling authors; the Scotiabank Giller prize winners; former WriMos et al, have gone through similar gut-wrenching, daunting, black-hole-engulfing feelings. It's a myriad questions and anxieties and what not. And you still have to keep at it, even when you feel you're making 10 steps backward for every one page finished; disliking the very story you're writing...


ABOUT MY ABILITY
I was careful not to write "about self-discovery" - with good reason. This, however, deals with discovering - and not in a Chris Columbus kind of way - that I do in fact have that thing in me to complete a book. Well, it's not one thing, (although there is one thing that is essential without which I couldn't do it), but a number of things working in tandem. Having believed for a looong time that I am a writer - so many people have told me, they couldn't all be wrong; I began to embrace the evidence myself a while back, too - I knew I could achieve that feat in one fell swoop. So, it was a personal challenge; an extraordinary 'note-to-self'. And, in the end, it was done. I discovered the ability to do something I had never done before.

What does that mean? For one, I now feel way more confident in helping my dad write his book. That one has been a long time coming. Two, I am confident that I can write another novel and another. Having opened my eyes and mind to the lessons and tips along the way, I have even begun to think that perhaps a collection of short stories is (finally) in order. The moral of the story? They're all within reach. Just need to extend my hand - even if it means a bit o' tip toe effort - and grab 'em!

I recently changed my @cyopro Twitter profile text (Yes. Again.) to read something along the lines of 'only you will ever be you and let's use our talent to the last drop.' I think it's important - and possibly, life saving - to resolve and take the necessary steps not to die with it inside. So, even before all this when I was encouraging people to be the best they can; say what they have to; breathe... and all that, it was against the backdrop of leading by example. Not just talking the talk. To roll the sleeves up and do it can be so inspiring to others. Now, I smile when I realize that I've done that. And, sometimes, we just need to be inspired.


ABOUT RELATIONSHIPS
Ummm...these don't end just because you're writing. Relationships, like life, continue irrespective of whether you are writing, thinking about writing or thinking about what to write. The quality of them might change just a tad. By that I mean frequency of calls and get-together (and knowing that the people from the gym might call, again, 'cause long-time-no-see!) and such. But, the ones that really matter? The relationships with your mom, your dad, your siblings, your tightest friends (not the 500+ on fb - not knocking it, just sayin'), remain solid. 'Cause they know you. Well. They understand that your 'free' time is devoted to writing and schedules are made around the writing. They occasionally enquire on how it's going but not so often you feel annoyed, especially when you haven't met your word-count for the day. They are supportive and helpful and are your biggest cheerleaders and critics - sometimes embodied in the same person. (Right @MizDurie?)

In short. They get it. They get you. And there is glorious comfort in that.


SHOW UP; LISTEN UP; BRUSH UP
So, I've tweeted about my little challenge for December - to read one novel per week for the month. The idea is to tap into the beautiful works of my fav authors and see where and how mine falls short.  I'm on it. Now reading Robin Cook's "Vital Signs".


The idea of my novel stemmed from my idea for a play. So, there are three things I'm working on now, as I seek to use my God-given talent well - the novel, the play and the book of short stories. This doesn't mean other projects are excluded. Nope. Like I said, "to the last drop."

And, as has long been my main concern about that to which I put my hands: "Do I make Him proud?"


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
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Here's to you, Mommy and Daddy

Okay. Here’s the thing: I’d like to continue writing on the 8s, but, my Internet connection at home has gone funky. And it’s not like me to have an entry-in-waiting. I prefer to write on d-day.

So, the deal is that I shall still try to honour the commitment to the 8s. But, if I miss by a day or two – depending on whether it falls on a Sat. or Sun. – I’ll make every effort to make up for it on the earliest work day after that.

Yesterday (Nov.) was an absolutely lovely day weather wise and otherwise. My youngest sis and me had an impromptu dinner and a (home) movie. It was a sunny 16C and I enjoyed every minute of it. Well, except for the part where I had to do laundry – I hate doing the laundry, man! At the end, though, it felt good to have it all done and be stacked with clean clothes again. 

Last week, a number of milestone events happened. I got the first draft of the Statement of Intent done and sent it off for review by a couple of my former professors. That was a big deal for me – one of the few pieces of academic writing since I completed my Masters, but the one with the most weight, to date.

Also, (drum rrrrooooollll), my parents celebrated their 40th wedding anniversary on the 5th. Zowie! No big mystery to the longevity of their marriage, though. I’m incredibly happy for and proud of them. God has really blessed them with everything needed to make theirs a long, lesson-filled, strong and good relationship and they’ve used it. They’re friends. And they’ve raised us within that circle of love and trust. They’re our friends and we are theirs, too.

Here’s to you, Mommy and Daddy, with lots of love!


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

Deconstructing the deletion: In defense of the decison to discontinue the inadvertent "stalking"

So, I’ve been doing the Facebook thing for about 2-3 years – it’s all a blur. I think it was in about April or May this year that I posted a message on my wall, stteo: I’ll be taking a break from fb, until I appoint my FAM (facebook Account Manager). I’ve popped in a couple times - doing nothing to write home about, really.

At some point, I began receiving messages in my Hotmail account from friends wanting me to send a friend request. Of course, I didn’t remember that I’d adjusted my settings to remove the FR link. But, that’s beside the point. It took me a while to respond to one of them – that of a very dear friend – ‘cause, well, our friendship exists outside of fb! Come Labour Day, with a bit more time on my hands, by the time I was to respond to her, I saw another request from someone else. It’s been years upon years that that person and I have had dialogue, but, I decided to send the FR anyway. In both instances, I let them know that I don’t use fb often and, in the event they don’t see me on it after a while, no worries. They have my contact info.

As a matter of fact, being now in ‘da mood’, I decided to take stock. Whom did I have on the Friends list that, well, hmmm …you know? I mean, since accepting the friend request 2 or more years ago, we hadn’t even exchanged a hello. So, after posting to my wall, stteo: I’ll be deleting a few contacts from my list ‘cause we don’t talk, really, and when I do pop in to fb, I feel like I’m stalking you… I went ahead and did just that.

My sis called to let me know that one of those who’d remained responded to my message. Something about the possibility of those affected not liking it. Oh well. As my other sis said, at least I gave a heads-up. Others simply go right ahead and delete – no compunction, no angst – just delete.

And it’s not that I think fb is evil or anything. I just don’t see the sense in looking at and absorbing what’s happening in the lives of others. It’s like watching a long-running (so-called) reality TV show. While they’re living their commercial-ridden lives, you’re spending yours watching them living their lives.

The point of the class reunion now would be what, exactly? Oh! Fewer pics that would make for a less bulky wallet and, of course, you get to see your friends ‘live’.

While having a truly enjoyable time at my lil sis’ place over the long weekend, she showed me a particularly funny youtube vid about the possible effect of fb on relationships. Apparently, there are those who regard fb to be more than a social networking site and whatever happens on fb, doesn’t stay on fb, but impacts (heavily) on the real-world relationships.

As we say in our family sometimes, “This isn’t funny ‘ha ha’; it’s funny ‘peculiar’.”

Who knows? A few of those I’d let remain might decide to remove me as a friend.

Oh well.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro