Let´s Go Fishing

This week’s quote was: “A wise master doesn't educate his student by giving him the answers; a wise master is the one who teaches his student to find the answers within himself.

All too often we give people the answers and the information they need just to find that even so, they don't manage to survive on their own. My father used to tell me that if you want to ensure survival, you can't keep giving a person fish. Instead you give them a rod and send them off to go fishing for themselves.

Every week I'm challenged with the task of teaching and training a group of people in working with their tools of the trade. New options, new services, new applications or simply a refresh of the ones we already have; the idea is to train them to become more efficient at their jobs.
To get information through, as clearly and completely as possible without having a room full of bored or sleeping souls is the weekly mission; and so one learns techniques to keep them interested. This takes inventing and reinventing teaching methods.

This week however, the lesson was given in a completely different way. So different that instead of teaching of the services, the students were given half an hour to research, prepare and teach the lesson to rest of the class. Divided into three groups, each was given a certain aspect of the service to research. Thirty minutes, Online Manual and a box full of paper, pens, glue and assorted stationary… I appealed to their research and to their creativity.

Give a person a pole and tell them to go fish; their next reaction tells you a lot about who they are and what they're capable of….

There were those that merely stared at me in shock; those that dove into the information highway and then there were those that headed straight for the goodies box…
Upon given a task where do you start on your plan of attack?

Having being divided, most members of each group knew little or nothing about each other. There was little time however to build team spirit. I was surprised to see some groups come together by throwing themselves into the challenge… others had to be pushed and nudged into working together.

As the teacher or the trainer, this had to be the most rewarding of classes I'd ever given. Each group needed different kind of support. Some lacked in information, some in creativity and other in just general motivation. Some however needed only more time to put their ideas to flight… these were the groups that inspired me the most even though my true challenge was those that had little or no sense of direction.

Giving the very last lesson of the week, the box of goodies was slightly slimmer and in lacking compared to the first lesson in the beginning of the week and there were those that excused their lack of imagination on lack of utensils.
What is one man's garbage is another man's treasure…
The very last group to present their presentation was without a doubt the most creative of all the groups throughout the week.
They used a piece of cardboard that no other group would touch and made a big cardboard cellphone. Cutting out a screen, they made square screens with the answers to the questions there were given to research. Two members held the cellphone and removed the paper on its screen to reveal the answers. Another member read the questions whilst another read the answers out loud and there was even one more member to go “beep” each time the answer was revealed.
The presentation was a laughing success and had I been grading such kind of effort I'd give the group an eleven out of ten points due to their correct answers, creativity, simplicity and amazing performance of team spirit.

Not only was it a great exercise to stimulate ideas, I'd say I had just as much fun as the students who thoroughly enjoyed the lesson. It got me reflecting a bit more on the subject of teamwork.
Who am I in the team?
Am I the information seeker?
The creative one?
The one who speaks for the group?
The one who encourages the team?
What is my role?
With the 360 degree evaluation coming up, I felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders as I am to evaluate my own work and the work of my colleagues.

One can take so many conclusions on answering these questions. What I do know for sure is that each week, each time I'm given a group of people to inform, teach or train; I have an opportunity to hand out fishing rods and make a difference. I look forward to the feedback of those who work with me for a better positioning of my place in the team.

Let it Rain...

Drenched!!! From head to toe, my umbrella did nothing to protect me from the sheets of water thrown down from the clouds above me.
All the angels and saints in heaven must be on strike because they've all left their taps running. Instead of dodging puddles, I found myself unsuccessfully looking for any indication of solid surface under the pools of water flowing over Lisbon’s streets and sidewalks.
At first I hurried as fast as I could to avoid getting too wet, but I realized that the battle had been lost when I felt that squishy feeling inside my boots. From that moment on, I slowed my pace to a pleasant walk where I imagined Sinatra proudly clapping at my version of “Singing in the rain”.
The great thing about singing in the rain… is the fact that there isn't a soul around to hear you!
I managed to avoid unwanted spray showers from passing cars by sticking close to the walls, my efforts however, proved very poor as not even my underwear managed to arrive home dry.
It would've been nice to arrive home to a towel and a warm smile that followed with “baby let's dry you up…” but I'm in the least grateful for not being greeted with something like “where the hell have you been”.
I've been spending more time than I should at work. I could blame old obstacles and new challenges or the fact that someone is on holiday but the truth is that I'm there later because I want to be, because there's nothing to come home to.
Watching tiny rivers stream down my window, I contemplated the advice I gave a friend earlier.
Find someone to love and hold on to that person.
Did I really say that? That sounds like something a really old person who’d forgotten what love is all about would say to someone like me.
I know for sure I wasn't trying to blow him off with some general, unfelt and unthought-of answer; so what was I thinking?
Either I'm getting old, or maybe old bags really have something when they say it's as simple as finding someone to love and then holding on…
People invest so little these days… or too much… but mostly too little.
Listening to drip drop song on my window sill, I sit in the darkness drying my hair with a towel and reveling in the warm feeling of dry pyjamas…
Right now, I don't think I'd rather be anywhere else in the world than right here… sitting on my bed, listening to the heavens hum the age old lullaby that guarantees me a peaceful sleep tonight. Perhaps I'll be blessed with sweet dreams… the kind that you wake up from with a stretch and a smile. Either way, I know I'm going to sleep nice.
I don't feel alone even though I'm the only person in the room…
Lately things seem so clear, even when they don't make any sense.
Somewhere along the line I gave up trying to make sense…
I fear it's a phase, though I'm not quite sure I want to climb out of it.
These days, I've given less thought about the things I can't resolve immediately.
I'm not sure if that's a good thing, but it leaves me feeling good about fate and gives me peace of mind…
Like the rain… I love it when it rains, just listen and not think of anything but the falling of the rain… Nothing in the world leaves me feeling more centered or secure.
Let it rain,
Let it fall,
Let it pour cats and dogs and may no spot be left dry as God washes the world with his tears… tears of joy, of sadness and of pure emotion…
Let it Rain.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Not only is this my movie suggestion of the month but it's also the kind of movie that will make you stop and reflect a little about the kind of decisions you'd make should they be possible.

I always said that I'd be a happier person if I could dictate to my heart how it should feel; the way I see it, I'd save myself a hell of a lot of trouble…
I'd never considered though the possibility of forced Amnesia…
Or better yet… Erasure…
The possibility of erasing something or someone from your mind.
Imagine it…
You're happily living the relationship of your dreams when one fine day you accidentally catch your reason for living, screwing your best friend's brains out, a sport he's been entertaining for a while…
It's the kind of knowledge that tears a person a part, drives one to drink and causes the suicides of people who can no longer take the slow procedure of going insane.
Go ahead, picture it and feel it if you can…
The psychological torture.
No matter how long you imagined it; it felt a second too long didn't it?
And yet, this poor sod, who's one in many would have to live with this kind of anguish for days… weeks… months… until finally restoring his mind to some sane shadow of what he normally was before the incident.
But what if you could save yourself from it… forget you ever met that person.
If you could completely erase everything and every memory about them…
If you could… would you?

This question bothered me for the simple reason that it would eliminate the whole concept of “everything happens for a reason” and it would change my whole course of life, how would I learn my lessons if I can't remember them?
Who would I be if I hadn't gone through what I did?... or in this case, remember what I went through?
And then the question that bothered me the most is… if I could wipe my slate clean from only once incident or one person… what or who would I want to forget?

I pondered this for a while and came up with no concrete answers… In my mind I remembered times I wanted to erase and then moments later I'd want to unerase the very same ones.
Maybe I should start with the school bully, or that first boyfriend that went wrong, perhaps I should focus on the ex… or that one heartbreak that shook the very essence of me…
But all those I've already come through and survived to the point where they don't bother me anymore and in realizing that, I came to the conclusion that the person to wipe out should be the one presently taunting my dreams.
He invades my thoughts, steals my concentration and shakes my self-confidence.
A nuisance that neither fulfills destiny nor fades away and when I'm meant to be focused on more important things, I find myself wondering what he'd think about them…
Salvation!!!! Bring on the zapper… the dude in my dreams has got to go!

And yet…
I hesitated when I realized that I'd no longer wake up with that sensation that he's by my side, the smile on awakening from a dream with him and the warm feeling I get inside each time our eyes meet…
When we look at each other that way, I wonder if he's feeling what I'm feeling…
But the phone never rang, the sms didn't come and the e-mail wasn't replied to…
That's the kind of torture I'm talking about! The kind of distraction I don't want or need in my life and the weakness I had to get rid of eventually… so why not straight away?!
I looked for every piece of evidence that linked me to him, every written letter, every photograph and every memory I had of him ready to be lost and disposed of…
I hadn't even realized that I'd collected so much…
Looking myself in the mirror, I smiled with a certain amount of relief that finally all of him would be gone and I'd move on with someone else.
I couldn't help notice however, how calm my heart was taking the whole situation.
Well that's a change! For a stubborn heart you sure aren't putting up much of a fight right now!
My heart however, calmly told me why it had already won the fight.
“You can wipe away the memories; you can take every special moment and destroy it so that it never happened and you can forget that you ever felt attracted to the man…
But I won't forget, I'll never forget the timber of his voice and the depths of his eyes and when you see him for the first time, it will all just start over again because you can't and you won't escape the fate that was written for you”

And with that… I put away foolish thoughts and resigned myself to the fact that I can't control what I feel or go through and it's up to me to choose what I do with whoever and whatever happens in my life.

My heart is right, if the magnetic pull that attracts (or repels) me to a person could be explained then it could also be dealt with… but it can't and it's the emotion that needs to be lived to be understood. If there is such thing as reincarnation then it could explain why two people feel like they know each other forever upon their first encounter.
It's odd to think that I could've lived a thousand different stories with one person and even stranger that I can't remember what they are but I can inexplicably sense that I like/dislike, trust/distrust the person in front of me from the beginning. Is it extrasensory instinct or is my heart remembering a story my mind erased?

Watching this movie, I perfectly understood why God would choose amnesia each time a person reincarnated. How else would they overcome the eggs that can't be unscrambled?
A new beginning? Another chance? Do people keep coming back together until they've fulfilled their destiny and if so… why?
Have you ever watched someone walk away and felt totally at ease? I've been told that one tends to feel an overwhelming sense of relief at that moment, like an invisible chain is broken… karma they call it, the death of karma.
And then there are those who take your heart with as they leave and you know, that even though you may never see them again, the resolve is far from over.

I'm glad that Erasure as I've baptized it; isn't possible.
It would be a very tempting option to have to deny.
I believe in climbing over my obstacles instead of under them even if it takes longer than I'd like… as the song from the movie itself suggests;
“Everybody’s gotta learn sometime…”

What would you want to erase?
Would you ever erase me?

Hook Got Your Tongue?!

Have you ever listened to someone that spoke to you with an admirable passion just to realize that it's all bullshit?!
Your first reaction is to think that they’d make a great politicians considering that it's all talk and very little or no action. The blame is always elsewhere and although they know all the solutions, they advance with none.
Their eyes water, their lips twitch and all through their criticizing, you stare at them incredulously and pray to all the saints in the heavens that they would just stop and listen to themselves!

There are people so self-centered in the world that they simply can't see past their own belly buttons. They can't fathom why the world can't see their suffering due to the fact that things don't go their way and for some unquestionable reason, the world is to behave as they see fit and owe them the living they imagine themselves worthy of having.

I recently read a piece where the writer sordidly criticized the behaviour of another person for being childish. The person was accused of being immature, defensive and intently decided on “not growing up”. There were no examples given of the person's behaviour to justify such classification and the writer somehow still revealed that when asked why he had given the person a nickname with an immature connotation, the writer “cleverly managed to not answer the question”.
Gee that shows a hell of a lot of maturity!
In order to guard the identity and integrity of the writer at cause, I've decided not to point out the facts which indicate why he should be the last person to label anyone immature.
However, I would like to share my general point of view directed at anyone who thinks they're good enough to judge another person…

There's an old Portuguese saying that says: May he with the house of glass throw the first stone. Considering the basic concept that no one is perfect, what gives you the right to label someone for their faults?
People are not objects that can be label and catalogued!
If a person has a reading disorder it doesn't necessarily mean that they're retarded.
If a person has had bad luck with the partners they’ve chosen doesn't necessarily mean that they're “A sucker for punishment”
If a person believes in their dreams, it doesn't particularly mean that they haven't grown up!

In my opinion, a person who judges, labels and catalogues is a person with no perspective or consideration for his fellow man.
Just because you don't agree with a person's behaviour doesn't give you the right to classify them for it.
Its one thing to criticize behaviour and another to label the person for it; and in order to correctly criticize a person's behaviour, it helps to know all the facts and reasons behind it… otherwise it's nothing more than hot air.

Do people not look themselves in the mirror anymore? Gee whiz! It's already such a bloody mission keeping track of what to better in ourselves to go around playing Judge and Jury!

The way I see it, courage is a sign of maturity. When a person comes up to you and directly asks you why you've given them a particular nickname it's because they're interested in the reasons and intend on reflecting on them.
Cowardice is a sign of immaturity, to dodge a question as not to have to answer truthfully is clear indication of a person who doesn't have the courage of his convictions.

If you talk the talk then you better bloody well walk the walk!
I read somewhere recently that a true master first does what he believes in before preaching it. So if you can't take responsibility for the things you say, be wise enough not to say or in this case… write them.

Infuriated…
That some people get away with playing eternal victims and then still have the cheek to point fingers at other people who are doing the best they can.

A critic is a legless man that teaches running.

My advice to Peter Pan is not to worry about her reputation. Worry instead about your character because your reputation is only who other people think you are whilst your character is who you truly are.

Lost and Found

Photo Source: Unknown

I left my heart in South Africa, I lost my strength in Paris and my mind is wandering somewhere in Portugal… where exactly I'm not sure, but I'm guessing that it's between work and university.
Where is my soul… shhhh!!!!
Don't call her… she doesn't want to be found.
She’s lost and doesn't know where she is,
She doesn't know where she wants to go…
And in this doubt, she’s in bliss.
Eternally divided between desires, dreams, wishes and responsibilities.
She doesn't feel like deciding right now.
Ahead of her is Love, Hurt and Struggle… none of which she’s ready to embrace.
She hasn't decided whether she’ll smile or cry first…
Let her be.
She’ll sit on her bum and watch the world go past whilst building the strength to pick herself up again.
She doesn't need your help, she just needs time.

Forgive me my friends for not writing sooner… I promise to make up for lost time the minute it becomes mine again.

Song Suggestion – Lost (Anouk)

Sunshine´s Six

Picture: www.tamzins-gallery.co.uk

Sunshine has been put to the challenge and those who know me; know all too well that I've never been one to back down from one… And the challenge is:
6 words that describe the author of this column… me.
As my challenger himself had said… it's not an easy task, for who could sum up a person or a lifetime in only 6 words? For someone who lives for the mere experience of living… this definitely wasn't an easy one… however, here goes my answer to the challenge and a thank-you to the person who put me up to it; it certainly reminded me of who I am and how far I've come:

Sunshine
It's not only a nickname but my way of being. I was given the nickname because my spirit is radiant. I infect the people around me with good humour and good vibes. I make it my sole mission to get people to smile deep enough to reach their hearts. You might not see me on a dark night… but I'm the star waiting to bring in the morning, to warm up souls and dry the tears.

Ocean
Majestic, powerful and comforting… I love the sea. This is where I go to recharge my batteries, to heal my hurts or just to be. I love water, I love being near water and in water. When happy I splash it with joy, when I'm sad it collects my tears… when I'm angry it lets me work my frustrations until I've vented them all out in each stroke that I swim.

Music & Dance
My remedy, my saviour, my soul… I can't live without music. It's the first thing I put on in the morning and the last thing I switch off at night. To feel the music soothe, move your body, take over your soul and speak to your heart. I consider dancing and music as one because I believe they go hand in hand – you shouldn't have one without the other.

Truth
Because there's no justification in a lie… because the truth always surfaces and because a lie destroys lives and people. Hypocrisy, manipulation… it's all different forms of lying. Why can't people just tell the truth or keep quiet, it's a hell of a lot easier, it keeps you honest and gives you dignity.

Faith
If you believe… then anything is possible. Believe in yourself, believe in your work, and believe that whatever happens, it happens for a reason. Greater than courage, stronger than determination and wiser than perseverance is the hope and the faith that a person invests in everything they do. I'm a believer.

Love
There's not a soul on this planet that can live without it. What good is any life if you don't have someone to share it with? Someone to bare witness? Someone that you can turn to and say “Did you see that?!”. Over the years I've met a lot of people, made amazing friends and had the time of my life at family events. I've loved and been loved in return and I live in the belief that all you need in life is love to be a happy person. I am.

Moments
I live by the moment, for the moment. Every moment is to be appreciated and recorded to be played back on rainy days or reunions. To make the moment count – to live it to it's fullest. To laugh, to cry, to sing, love and rejoice… the moments of life are like the paragraphs in a book, the scenes in the plays or the chorus of a song, either or you make something of it or it passes you by.

Yikes… and that's it folks. I do believe I stood well up to my challenge… as for the words that are missing… let's just say that there's a piece of me in everything I do. Candles, Smiles, Angels, Laughter, Independence, Friendship… there are so many more, you can find them in all my other posts.

AF992

Photo: Sunshine

I love flying… it's like living another life all on its own. I could live my life from a suitcase, zooming in and out airports. It occurred to me at Charles de Gaulle that the airport is the one place in the world where I feel whole… perhaps it's the illusion that I'm going somewhere… in transit. Gone but not there…
Sitting on the plane, I took a look around at my companions for the next ten hours… whatever happened on this plane… we'd experience it together.
Under the seat in front of me was the soul of the plane… the black box, here’s where the truth of the trip is recorded. My neighbours next to me saw it as well and to break the ice I winked at the cute blonde and told him that we were sitting in the safe aisle
“They'll be looking for us first!”
Amused he laughed in a typically South African tone that made me feel like I was almost there… come on big birdie… take mamma home!
Due to technical problems, the flight was delayed for an hour… For over three months I've been counting down the days, during the last four days I'd been counting down the hours, and a delay for someone who's counting down the minutes is nothing short than torture…
Although, I can't say that I was stressed or nervous… if I had it my way, I'd make a plane my permanent home… alright, so I guess I'd get sick of it eventually… but while I don't… I'll enjoy the fact that while up in the air I'm free… free from my past and not yet bound to my future… until I reach my destination, I'm whoever and whatever I want to be… just a face in the crowd, someone to sit next to.
Why would anyone want to disappear like that?
I call it the much needed and desired pause in life… up in the air, time stops. I can think without having to, just set my mind and thoughts free with no influence.
I thought myself silly as I explained to myself this concept, but then I saw a trolley with Haagan Dazs and it all made sense.
I'm NEVER flying TAP ever again! Air France has a private TV on each seat allowing me to pick my channel and movie… 20 movies to choose from, each starting every fifteen minutes. Then it has games… Tetris, Soduku, Solitaire and my personal all time favourite: Mahjong. The air hostesses are nice and first class is without a doubt first class... I thought those fold out chairs that turn into a bed was only on American planes for the rich but they really do stretch out into miniature beds!
I'm writing this with the knowledge that I have nothing to say, nothing poetic and nothing worth mentioning. I might not even post this one...
Yet in the darkness of this plane, I feel the need to talk… And as fate would have it… I'm talking to my computer screen!
The couple next to me are in their early sixties and they hold hands every now and again, just to comfort each other, just to let one another know that they're there.
I've always wished someone special would sit next to me, that we'd be flying somewhere together… maybe I'd be taking him to meet some place I once knew, maybe he’ll be taking me to some place I haven't met yet.
I’d have someone’s shoulder to lay my head on, there would be a heavy hand that occasionally rested on my thigh and after some strategic caresses, hopefully he'd be the first to say:
“You keep that up and I won't be held responsible for my actions!”
I'd give him my most innocent look and make him promise to make it up to me at our destination.
Adventure! With someone instead of always facing it alone… Diving with the sharks probably isn't as much fun on your own… Who will witness your experience?
There's but a stranger sitting beside me… and I'm flying solo.
I remind myself of the joy that awaits me when I land… the two men that I love most in the world are picking me up at the airport… and yet, at this precise moment, that knowledge does little to warm my heart.
Deciding the chill I felt was due to the temperature, I fished out my jersey and paid my first visit to the lavatory… I took off my blouse and put on my jersey, pausing only to note that I should’ve gotten more sun this summer, no one was going to believe I came from one of Portugal’s hottest summers… oh well, I guess I'll first right in along with all the other South Africans pale from the winter. Snow White… it's either that or lobster.
Taking a better look into the mirror, it also occurred to me that although the cubicle was rather small… two people could still squeeze in and make for a rather interesting flight.
I laughed at myself as I imagined different positions, all of which would make for an interesting memory in old age. I stopped laughing however when I looked in the mirror and realized that the only person laughing was me... I was alone.
I'm tired… my battery is low and I'm out of inspiration. I have so much to look forward to and yet, if I could, instead of a ten hour flight… I'd make it eternity… after I'm there, time will fly, it will pass and all that there’ll be left for me is my flight back home…
Home…
I don't know what or where that is… Resilient, I adapt to almost any nook and cranny and yet if you ask me where I feel most at home, my answer would be: “at the airport, on a plane”… how sad, that what I most seek to build is what constantly eludes my hands.
By saying this I can picture one my colleagues giving me her most serious expression and telling me that when I least expect it, I'll have it all.
I wonder if she tells me these things just to comfort me, but then she looks at me with so much conviction that my heart wills her to be right even when it has given up hope of it being so.
Depressed me? Heavens no… Just thinking about the stuff I constantly tell myself not to think about. Up here I've allowed myself to think about these things…
I've allowed myself to feel fragile, lonely and scared… at least for the remainder of my ten hour flight…
What else am I thinking about?... wouldn't you like to know! I'd tell you about it but I don't believe that my laptop will last past the next five minutes…
Maybe another time… on another flight.

When I´m Gone...

Picture by Brian Blaine Reynolds

What if my plane crashed down…
If on the road, I got pulled under a truck…
What If I fell asleep never to open my eyes again?

Death is something we don't think about much, or when we do… we always associate it to someone else. And then someone is taken from us… and our world comes tumbling down.

Getting killed isn't exactly the most intelligent topic to consider 24 hours before getting on a plane… but I found myself wondering; what if?

My first reflection was on my own life: have I lived a life worth dying for? Am I proud of who I am and what I've done with my twenty four years on earth? Could I have done more? Did I do enough? Simple questions with complicated answers. I didn't hesitate though, mostly because I don't regret the mistakes I've made along time… they’ve determined how far I've come and looking back objectively, there's very little I would change, I daresay, nothing at all… I am who and what I am because of the choices I've made and frankly, I like who I've become.
Regrets?
There would be three: The university degree that has evaded me, the man I want to love and make happy and the family I want to build and raise.
Death would be cruel to rob me of those three goals… the one's I've living for.
Other than those… I have no regrets, none that would haunt me in the afterlife.

So let's pretend that I'm at the finish line… now what? What would be of my memory? Most people reply: “What do I care after I'm gone! I won't know anyway”
And although this may or may not be true… I'm not of the same opinion.
I care about the legacy I leave behind, I care about the memory of me in each and every heart that I've lived to touch.
And how would I like to be remembered?
How else?!! As Sunshine… the girl that believed in being happy is more than a state of mind, it's a choice of spirit. The person that believed in love, even when blinded by tears of disappointment;
The friend that could be counted on;
The colleague that gave her best;
The daughter that accepted and understood;
The sister that loved truly, deeply and unconditionally;
The girl that believed…
The woman that survived, lived and rescued.
The ex-girlfriend that taught that love is an undying emotion, that gave her whole heart, that made all the difference…

I'd like to remembered for my spirit, my inner light, my courage, determination, inspiration and above all… for my belief in the good in people and all things.
I'd like to remembered for my smile… with a smile, even if accompanied with a tear.
For my adventurous spirit and initiative… for the all the times I was unpredictable, for each time I was present, for the courage of my convictions.
I've been happiest when I dance, when I sing, when I laugh so hard that my stomach hurts, when I work, when I play… all of which was made possible by those that fill my heart with joy: my family, my friends… and yes, my colleagues as well.
Leaving them behind is the only unbearable consequence of death… if there is life on the other side of life; I can't imagine it without all these people.
It hurts me even more to think of the pain my absence would cause them; it's incredibly selfish and stupid to ask someone you love not to cry for you when you're gone… wouldn't you cry for them?! Who am I to ask them to be robbed of their release…
Yet my only wish is that after the tears have dried up, that they're left with the happy memories of me. I'd like to die knowing that I've left something positive with each person I've met, that at some point in their lives they'll remember me with a smile saying “I remember a ray of Sunshine…”

I tried picturing my funeral… I avoided imagining my parent’s expressions; my little brother’s look most of all… Instead I saw my coffin and an ocean of faces that I'd met along the way trying to remember how they met me and the good times… if there were a song playing it would be Lighthouse’s: “Ain´t no sunshine when she’s gone”.
It's not the original version but it's my favourite version of the song… I know one or two souls that already associate this music to me and probably would be singing it to themselves in the back of their minds…
Wait a minute! I'm not meant to be in a coffin!! Who determined that I should be food for the worms?... Get me out of there! Rather turn my remains to ashes and set them free where my essence will forever remain.
So let's think about where I want to be scattered…
Not all at one place… that would be forgetting my entire history. I hope my parents have the sense to divide me in three and take me to three places I've so far called home. At the end of an afternoon when the sun is setting and the waves are calm… I'd like to be scattered over the oceans from South Africa, Madeira and Lisbon.
Those who know me well… know that no other place would make sense.

How morbid! To think of letting this life go… I've still got so much to do that I can't think of my time ending already… I guess I should feel privileged to already have come this far, I can't imagine being anywhere else. I believe I’ve lived the most honest life that I could… or at least I've tried my best to… so I hope God makes me an angel so that I'm allowed to come down and check up on the people I love and occasionally whisper in their ears. With a bit of luck, I'll be allowed to be a part of the small miracles in their lives… the kind that will make them wake up in the morning feeling happy to be alive.
There are things I'd like to say to every individual in my life but overall I feel that I haven't left anything to be said… I mean what I say and say what I mean therefore people have no reason to doubt the relationship I’ve had with them.
Okay so there may be one or two people I'd like to say a few extra words to (I guess there's always someone…) but if life didn't give me that chance to say what I havn't said until now, I'll trust that someone else will, or that their hearts will tell them what deep down they already know.

Are there people waiting for me on the other side? My two grandfathers’, will they fetch me when I take my last breath? Fatima… I hope she’s there with her eternal smile upon her face and her little Bambi on her shoulder. Will Dyna and Pitó be there as well? Do dogs go to heaven when they die?... I hope so, otherwise I want to go wherever they went.

What will I miss most about life?
Ice-cream! A vanilla corneto if you please!... Water, the luxurious feeling of feeling wet and of diving into a watery world. Walks on the beach, that incredible feeling of sand and the water that kisses your feet… the salty smell of the ocean, the heat in a kiss from the sun on your skin. Snow… lots of it! White, pure and thick, the product of winter’s magic! Autumn’s leaves!... Green, orange and brown that collect at my feet when the wind blows. The wind in my hair and taking deep breaths of life… Flowers! The colours, the scent… the beauty, that feeling in your stomach when someone gives you a rose. Butterflies in my stomach, when I'm ecstatically happy, when I'm in love, when I laugh so hard that it hurts… laughter, smile – happy ones, naughty ones, all of them naturally made from the soul.
Fireworks on New Years day, grandma’s pudding at Christmas, singing in the shower, dancing in my socks… Hugs and Kisses! KISSING!!! - Deeply, profoundly, intensely, lovingly…
Life is so much fun; I hope I get to stay long.

What started off as a gloomy post has resulted in my appreciation of life. We all know that life should be lived by the moment and to the maximum but most of the time we're distracted and the moment passes us by.
I don't believe that I'm anywhere near the end of my life although I'm aware that death is fate’s choice and not my own. And yet, today… the day that marks 5 years since I've left South Africa and faced life on my own, it occurs to me how responsible we really are for the way our lives turn out.
We're pawns of fate but only victims of destiny if we choose to be… destiny is our choice and even when we don't make one, that in itself is a decision made.
Evaluating the last five years, I'm satisfied with my choices – no regrets. I hope that five years from now on looking back, I'll feel this proud of my life's course.
I hope I'm old before I die… I hope I'll have lots more memories to look back on, I want the opportunity to make more people smile.

Life is a stage that permits no rehearsals therefore sing, dance, laugh and love intensely until the curtain closes without applause – William Shakespeare.

Kind Appeal

Photo Source: Unknown

There are days on which I feel like slapping you silly; times on which I'd love to punch your daylights out, and moments that I'd give anything to knock some sense into you!
What is it?!
What is your exact problem?
Why do you look everywhere else but at my face when you're talking to me?
I hate this feeling like we're walking around eggshells around each other.
What are you expecting me to say?
What are you avoiding?!
What is there to be afraid of?!
How long will we keep avoiding each other?

I'm a dancer not a fighter.
If you take a step towards me, I’ll take another step towards you.
But if you're waiting for something more…
Don't bother…
I only take the initiative; a second attempt would be insisting…
I don't and I won't.
Nobody likes a nag now do they?

Let's avoid the earths natural gravitational pull…
You go your way and I'll go mine and occasionally we'll touch base.
I don't feel guilty about stepping over life’s signs for the simple reason that it takes two to Tango; if that were case, I would've already dived in and take my chances with the sharks…
Play it however you want, the ball is on your court in any case…
Don't do me any favours, I don't need them and we already discussed the fact that you don't like demands or being told what to do… so consider this a reasonable request:
On the times that our paths cross and there something to be said:
Look at me while I'm talking to you.

Appreciation

In our department, we believe in the sandwich theory. The way it works is that each time you're going to give feedback to a colleague or operator, the idea is first to point out their strong points, then point out those that they need to work on and then end off by once again commending them on their good points.
Can you see the sandwich?
With one week to go before I go on vacation: Three colleagues on leave, another colleague absent, exchange program in vigor, training sessions to prepare and give to the advanced operators along with the monthly audits and the lose ends all to be managed in one week. Let’s not forget the occasional system errors, unforeseen cases and the respective phonecalls that go with them.
So it's been a tough week and time management was crucial in order to get things done. I'd say that I felt my share of stress but not to any alarming level…. I can't say that I did anything extraordinary beside manage my time and lose ends effectively – something I already strive to do daily.

I recall that sinking feeling I'd feel back at school if ever called up to the headmaster’s office and although I'm a big girl now and the only office I get called to is my managers; I always get that cold chill down my spine in fear that the motive was originated from something I did wrong.
I'm an Aries – I hate making mistakes (and profoundly loathe making the same mistake twice.)

So when I was called into my manager’s office when I have no pending cases, butterflies began flying in my stomach especially after being told that it wouldn't take long and that I should sit.
My manager looked me straight in the eye and told me that it has been a pleasure working with me and that he considers me a competent professional. He thanked me for the effort I'd been putting in and noted it more for being under difficult circumstances.
As I heard me compliment me on my good humour and attitude, my mind began searching for the meat inside that sandwich…
I thought about all the situations in which I could’ve botched and mentally double checked all my pending cases but nothing occurred to me, stressing me out even more due to the fact that if I wasn't aware of the problem, then it must be really bad…

My jaw dropped and I stared at my boss…

As it turns out there was no meat: no sandwich! Just the compliments.
That's it? No cheese and ham in the middle? No problem? Nothing that needs polishing? No ulterior motive…
Just the good stuff.

Dumbfounded and caught off guard, I was clueless at how to reply… my expression must’ve clearly demonstrated my confusion and the only reaction that occurred to me was to thank him. So I thanked my manager and went back to the nosegrind trying to recover from the shock.

I've never been very good with compliments. My face changes colour and I never do quite know how to respond. Perhaps because I don't find anything extraordinary in being and investing yourself in what you do – isn't that after all what I'm paid to do?!
Then there's the fact that all my colleagues have putting an extra amount of effort into these last few days and so I didn't do any different than anyone else has.
Not that my manager didn't notice, we all received an e-mail complimenting us on our teamwork in this particular week.
I believe in the momentary praise; complimenting a colleague for the great work once he's presented it or letting a person know how much you enjoy working with them after you've done something particularly fun or credible together.
However, a manager going out of his way to let you know that he's noticed and appreciates your work and effort… that's new to me.

The importance of taking note and appreciating another person's work?
Let's just say that if my destiny wasn't South Africa, I'd be tempted to cancel my vacation in order to stay and work.
Motivation… it develops your desire do to more and better.

He's not giving me a raise,
I'm not up for a promotion,
There isn't going to be material gain
And yet, the few words of recognition were of the utmost value.
To know that my effort was noticed.
To know that my work is valued.
To know that I that I'm valued… valuable to the company.
That knowledge in itself can't be put a price tag on.

I woke up this morning with the distinct desire to tell each and every one of my colleagues how much I enjoy working with them. Some would without a doubt deserve more praise than others but in all, I can't say that there's a soul in my department that makes my life difficult… if anything, I've felt a helping hand from them all at some point or other. Nowadays I heartily feel more a part of a team than I did a year ago.
To avoid risking being put in an insane asylum or told to get off the Xanax… I decided to save my words for the right moment… not because I need one but simply because I want to say it not only from the heart but from the soul as well.

There's always that someone that makes our life's a little easier, be sure to thank them every now and again.

Crossroads

Two women stared at each other in silent comprehension.
Advice was futile, especially when considering that there are no guarantees. All and any advice given was at the subjectivity of personal experience and therefore when there are no formulas or certainties, all a friend can really do for another friend is listen.
When there are decisions to be made with no right or wrong answers, all one can do to help is try to understand and empathize.
I watched her, scared and insecure, standing at the crossroads.
Anyone who's ever found themselves in a no-win situation knows that your sole prayer is that the decision you make will be the best for all in the long run – the one that causes the least pain to all involved.
My heart broke as she told me in how many pieces hers has been torn in and I longed to comfort her and tell her that everything would be alright – we both knew that in the short run, that wasn't a probability.
Instead, all I could do was listen and hope that venting would release some of the stress and weight upon her shoulders
Fierce frustration! When you watch some one you care about suffer for the one thing that should make them happy – love.

Why does it have to be as complicated with something as simple as falling in love?
I've heard of few, if any, love stories that didn't have a twist to it… The human being somehow insists on putting love to the test. Why deny the soul its very reason for existence? It seems that we all run from the thing we were born to find.
We think up excuses not to listen to our hearts and then tell ourselves that our heads know best, and then we wonder why we're not happy.
We define our personalities by what is politically correct or seen as acceptable by a group of minds and forget that our hearts and souls are what define our individuality. To be an individual, one must follow a path that no one else can draw a map for.
An original life is uncharted territory due to the fact that the heart defines the direction in which an individual should go and grow.
And yet we fight this, telling ourselves that we want to be different when all we're doing is allowing ourselves to be the same as the image we create drawn from some or other philosophy.

Truly there is but one key to salvation: communication.
You can't make a good and worthy decision without knowing all the facts, and when dealing with the heart and the object of your affections, you're dependant on their thoughts, feelings and sincerity.
Not a comforting thought when you're not guaranteed the whole truth.
People tend to omit information, to hide from feelings and avoid defining themselves… because they're scared or because they speak from their logic instead of their hearts.
And yet we need to know, need their perspective otherwise we make decisions on hunches or guesses and as any wise person will tell you:
Assumption is the mother of all fuck-ups!

If you're lucky enough to get the other party to talk – your next impossible mission will be to get them to define what they want and develop a plan of action.
In other words: what are we going to do about it?

What leaves me angry and bitter is the fact that people take so little responsibility for their feelings. We've been taught to take up huge amounts of responsibility in our lives for the actions and decisions we make and yet we aren't taught to deal with the emotions developed.
And so we run from them, hide from them and hope that somehow they'll sort themselves out. Some believe that they can reprogram their hearts to synchronize with their minds; others prefer to ignore their hearts completely and hope that one day they won't even remember what it once desired.
We simply don't trust that our hearts know what makes us happy… perhaps because the risks past taken have caused tears. What we forget is that pain is inevitable, suffering is optional and telling yourself to feel what your heart doesn't is delusional and impossible.

My experience with men is that they believe that if they don't voice it, then it'll eventually go away… God forbid they'll ever have to commit to a feeling! To do so would be to be imprisoned by the sentiment felt towards that person… and these days nobody wants to be tied down.
I wonder how they would react to the philosophy that the most freedom a man can hope for is to be able to choose the prison he lives in.
As morbid as that may seem, the way I see it is that love was never meant to be a prison or an institution you commit yourself to. It's an involuntary emotion that develops and ties you to a person in ways you can never free yourself from.
A relationship is what you build from that emotion.
There's a scary word… relationship. People forget that with everyone we know, we have some or other kind of relationship and how we feel towards them is what determines its nature. How free or tied up a person is in a relationship depends solely on how free or tight the person allows the relationship to develop into.
You know you're in love when you feel free, not at a point where you feel limited.
I thought back at all the men I know that avoid and run from commitment, that live afraid of being tied down… I then realized that I knew very few that didn't.

The worst crime a man can commit is to touch a woman's heart without the intention of loving her; not committing to the love he may feel for her and yet never letting her free to go.

He was intent on living a free life of experience. Intensely, he'd experience every woman that he brought into his web. But the moment that the passion developed into something real, he'd end it quicker than you can say run. Because the only thing he planned to build on was on himself and his career and because he didn't want anybody depending on him or his time. He thrived on the superficial intensity of the moment and then one morning he woke up and looked into the mirror wondering why he wasn't happy.
If he can get any woman he wants, lose himself in the arms and company of one beautiful woman after another, what more should he want for?
Often we forget that love isn't something we're given in order to be happy, it's something we feel that brings happiness into everything we live. And yet we look for it inside the perfect package we imagine it to look like.

To know he's there even with your eyes closed, to feel the magic and have your heart tell you that you're not imagining it… and then to not be able to do anything with it.
That's a tragedy!
When the other person won't own up to his feelings or define any direction, you find yourself wanting to be bet on the safe side… to let go.
And this is how a soul wastes a reincarnation and accumulates karma, by surviving instead of living his life.

Emotional Intelligence – We could all do with some it, considering that people have forgotten what it is to listen to their souls.
If I only I could change the way the world works!
I'd give people strength of spirit, to believe in themselves and follow their dreams. Most importantly… to invest in love, wholly… blindly… completely.
To take away the fear of getting hurt and knowing that it doesn't destroy one's capacity to love.
The world would without a doubt be a happier place.

Looking the other woman in the eyes, I knew what we both knew: deep down she'd already made a decision and now she needed to come to terms with it. Because all feelings need to run their course until reaching their destined purpose. And that it's no use telling yourself your decision, it's something that needs to seep through your veins and into your soul before you heart accepts that the love it feels isn't the love that it's meant to beat for in this lifetime.
I shivered as I recalled the torturous time that it took to cleanse my soul of the poison contaminating my heart of love for the man I wasn't destined to be with.
At some point, I'd say at the very edge of madness, I found the strength to turn my back and let go… to lose the good along with the bad that he was in my life. To rebuild, redefine my life…and even risk caring about someone new.
But that’s me, and I don't recommend my road to anyone if for the simple fact that I believe that everyone needs to discover what’s best for them.
Not that she wanted advice, or seeked it. She merely needed someone to listen, someone how had been down that road before and had felt anything similar to what she was feeling.
Helpless to do or say anything constructive, I hoped my eyes communicated the comfort my words couldn't.
I smiled and told her to hang in there.

Dance With Me?

I looked out the window and they were dancing…
Oblivious to my gaze, they let themselves get swept away by the heat of the moment and I…
I watched… and my body ached for something only my heart remembers.
To dance.
With myself…
With the music...
With the rhythm…

To dance with him…
Was to erase all the world but for the music and the dance floor…
Just us… me and him… and the music.

We'd gently get close at first.
I'd feel his body and he'd feel mine…
We'd learn each others movements and adapt them to our own… and then the more daring steps would begin.
I recall his tight grip…
The strength of his arm around my waist…
One look into the hunger in his eyes and I dared to be move, to take defying steps…
To let him turn me, twist me, dip me and sway me around the dance floor as if it were all ours and no one else's.
The sweet scent of his sweaty neck, the heat that his breath burned upon my own…
His hands were liquid volcano each time he touched my bare skin and I felt his heart racing each time I beckoned him closer…
Closer…
As if our bodies couldn't reach close enough.
Dancing is the vertical expression of a horizontal desire…
We'd lock eyes and we'd hold each other, as being in each other's arms was our sole purpose for living.
Each time I pulled away, it was if my heart was being torn from my chest…
Then he’d pull me back as if he’d make love to me right there on the dance floor.
My every muscle and nerve answered to his touch, to his demand.
Slaves to the music…
Fast and intense…
Slow and torturous…
And when the music stopped…
I’d hang on to him for as long as I could, I'd gasped for air and know that I was ruined for life.

Oh to dance with him…
To feel alive.
Like a woman…
With taboo's and no restrictions.
The dance floor is my chosen prison.
My church…
the place where I heal my hurts…
Where I feel whole.

Anyone who dances will tell you… the music ends too soon.
Just when you're enjoying it the most, just as you've gotten the hang of it; the music stops and it's over.
You can start over, switch partners and wait for the next song but it will never be the same dance you began with.
Because they're all different… unique…
Each dance holds its own steps, its own story, its own memory.

They danced as if no one were watching; I suspect that even if they knew that I was… they wouldn't have cared.
Closing my eyes, I danced with him along with them on the pavement.
We moved in close, danced… and smiled at each other.
All was forgiven, words ceased to have importance.
All that mattered was that he dances with me and I danced with him.
I miss him sometimes.

Tragedy isn't when the music comes to an end…
It's when the music ends and you realized that lost the opportunity to dance.
It's the regret no one should have.

To dance,
To speak your soul’s language with your body.
To gesticulate your desires with each movement.
To Trust.
To be trusted.
And to know that whatever happens, all that matters is that you enjoy yourself.

Dance.
Every chance you get…
With whomever destiny picks as your partner…
As if no one were looking…
Because life is short and you never know if you'll get a chance to dance.

Blogoworld

Picture taken from: www.imaginethatstudios.com/writing/index.html

Once in every while, perhaps twice a week; I take time off to do precisely what you're doing right now… to read someone else’s thoughts.
If there's one thing I love about the Internet and blogs in specific, is the freedom of expression… to write and express thoughts and emotions.
My favourite blogs are on the links to your right… feel free to visit those that inspire me.
Some are written like diaries…
Others are homes to images and photographs…
Then there's the poetry…
I especially love the poems; they seem to touch the bottom of my soul and remind me of a time when I felt the world was one big prose.
Then there are the stories…
The facts…
The fiction…
All opinions…
All perspectives of the form of expression.
And I lose myself… in the world of those who write them. Because somewhere in them is a reality known to me, in a twisted sense that only I and the writer would understand.
I don't particularly like giving my blog´s link to someone I know…
It's like giving them the key to your treasure chest…
The power to attack your Achilles heel…
It has very little to do with fear of criticism (I welcome all and any!)
And more with the fear that the reader won't understand…
Will misinterpret…
For a writer is far more than all the pieces of literature that he (in this case she) could write altogether.
Every sentence is a mere window to the writer’s soul… but not the full picture.
Strangers seem to understand this concept better.

There are people I avoid mentioning my blog to, for the simple reasons that there are sides to me they need not know.
Against my better judgment, I recently gave one of those someone’s the link to my blog… but I've quit fearing the consequences, in fact, it scares me that I'm scared of so little these days… fear is what makes us human… to have no fear is to have lost the blood within your veins to feel.

But returning to the words of those that inspire me…
I went through a blog of someone who began writing in order to relieve her soul… it's been a year and with it, she’s managed to map out her progress and the change brought about in that period of time.
http://thmys.blogspot.com/2006/08/one-year-old.html
She reminds me of someone who began writing for the same reasons, and then stopped… for the exact reason she began writing in the first place.
I miss her writing that always began and ended with sensuality.
Then there the spaghetti blog… the one that has no set schedule and that most of the time, I struggle to make sense out of. I realize though… that each entry is a piece, a fragment of a thought or a moment that the writer needed to get out his system.
Thoughts… opinions… some merely tell a story.
And who doesn't love a good story… I certainly do…
To be taken to the place that others create and lose myself within the tale.
You'd be surprised at the good literature put out there by simple people… people that during the week have jobs and families. That person could be occupying the chair in the cubicle next to you and you'd never know how deep that person's soul goes if you didn't know their thoughts, expressed in the form that only writing can take.

I read a piece that left me melancholy… I've met people who’ve lost their essence and choose to remain empty… a condition so sad and desolate that it makes my soul grieve for their death. This piece perfectly described these living zombies, stealing my breath and extracting a tear from my eye:
http://ascoresdemadalena.blogspot.com/2006/08/12-o-mundo-uma-casa-que-no-minha.html
I'd felt a similar emotion upon reading the following:
http://fantasyadream.blogspot.com/2006/08/poeira-do-tempo.html
But it was in the first poem that I read an opinion that peaked my curiosity. Strong and sincere, I was curious to its owner so I clicked on the commenter´s name and before I knew it, I found myself within another blog. Most of the most interesting blogs I know, I've found through this method but as I explored more… my heart skipped a beat.

Do you believe in signs?
I don't mean coincidences – God and Destiny are too great for those to exist.
I mean signs… like the kind that remind you that you're on the right track.
Or worse… the kind that bring up the thoughts you avoid in your head.
Like the smell of a certain perfume when a stranger walks by you…
Or that song playing on the radio…
A saying that was elsewhere once repeated…
Simple things, little things, which your brain immediately connects to a memory or a thought that’s filed in the back of your brain.
That feeling of deja-vu or that constant reminder.
Sometimes, it's the work of an angel that reminds me to pick up the phone and call one of my friends that either also thought of me all day or needed that particular contact.
Other times it feels like confirmation… as if I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to.
And there are times when it's the annoying insistence of a thought that won't get out my head… and that's what the new found blog was.
Another reminder.

A lot of people ask me about my expectations of my up and coming trip.
Am I excited? (Dumb question!)
Am I planning to see all the faces I once knew? (Dumb but reasonable question… yes I plan on touching base with all my old friends)
Do I plan on exploring? Tourist or Inhabitant? What are the changes I'm meant to find? (Now there's the tricky question!)
What are my true expectations?
I don't know…
I picture myself getting off the plane, walking out with my luggage and then putting my arms around the people I love!
After that… I'm on God’s good graces.
No emotion that I’ll feel afterwards seems greater than that moment…
The moment where I breathe Johannesburg’s polluted air; take a deep breath and feeling that sweet surrender we all feel on arriving home…
Home… is that truly home? It once was… what does it feel like now?
I don't know – so quit asking me!
I suddenly remembered the reasons why I'm counting down… because more than a holiday, I'm returning to the place where I can hear myself think, lower my defenses and listen to my heart.
To breathe and feel… that's what I most look forward to in 21 days…

Sometimes I wonder why I still write… I wonder if what I'm writing is still making a difference to those who read it. I know the opinion of most of my readers… even those that don't leave written comments. And even so I question of investment of time and effort… perhaps because after three years of writing, there are things that are often repeated even if not said in the same way. But as I commented on a friend’s blog, I wrote to her what I write to you know: Never write for others for your writing will feel fake and forced. After all… after all these centuries, I'm pretty sure everything that could be said; has been said before and the difference lies… in who says it and where it comes from. In other words, write from your heart; say it from your soul and your writing will always be an original.

Assessing the Balance

Photo source: unknown

I found an old friend that I hadn't seen or spoken to in thirteen years and suddenly my life was put in reverse and slow motion where I was allowed to savour all my nostalgic memories one by one.
Most were happy, I relived the best years of my life but there were one or two moments that made me flinch or laugh out loud at myself.
One of those memories was Mr. Timetable.
Oh yeah! - Trust me to fall in love with the one guy in school that went out with almost every girl in the playground.
Ten years old and I drooled over a sports fanatic with an ego the size of the planet and the vocabulary the size of the cricket ball he seemed to be fascinated with.
And what pray tell attracted me to this creature?
Well he did have a pair of the bluest eyes I'd ever seen (don't trust blue eyes ladies, the label on those two suckers says: “manipulator” and if you got them at a bargain they'll come as: “shameless liar” as well!)
But his eyes weren't really what attracted me to him; I have to confess that my downfall was the fact that he was the junior photocopy of Patrick Swayze. And at a time where Dirty Dancing was the movie watched at least twice a day, silly me couldn't help but associate the brace face jock to the God of dance himself.
And would you believe that this fascination lasted most of my primary school years?!
Here I was madly in love with something that looked like something I longed for and in the meantime he couldn't have been more the opposite of what I wanted! With an attention span of a locust and a soul about as deep as my bathroom sink, I'd say I was pretty much off the mark!
I'm happy to report that the choices that followed had a hell of a lot more to do with me than the guy, but at least with this one I actually managed a spot in his “new-month-different-girl” calendar.

When contemplating such wrong moves, we tend to ask ourselves what went wrong right after we scream out “What the hell was I thinking!”
After analyzing my last attraction, I decided that the reasons hadn't changed much over the years. So what is it that women see in losers?
Potential.
We’re like the artists that look at a rock of marble and sees something beyond the rough edges, yearning to sculpt out the image we see in our minds. There are those that like clay have the potential to be mould into whatever they think they want to be and then there are those that have drawn the blueprints of a building in their heads and only have yet to construct…
But as wonderful as this sounds, a dream only becomes reality when you make it happen. “Almost” is just a politically and nice way of saying; It didn't happen.
Behind every great man is a great woman and most woman seek to be the jewel that crowns her man as king.
As noble as this seems, it implies going a lot misfits before you find your man and a hell of a lot of disappointment when you realize that most of them never achieve even half of their true potential.

Returning to my latest eye catcher, I got myself wondering what it was about this one that captivated me. It didn't take long to find the answers:
Potential – no doubt, he definitely promised to be more than he seemed.
Depth – Or am I standing at the shallow end of the pool?
Intelligence – Perhaps what I'm hearing is sharp wit caught on a crash course of “What women want to hear - charm and impress”
Once again, it can be concluded that I've read too much into the young man's potential and while this is considered a female weakness. I consider is a regretful consequence of a woman’s tendency to look for the best and the good in everything she sees and does… including men. We’re suckers for the weaker sex.

Fortunately, wisdom and maturity teaches a woman when to let go of a lost cause…
I'd like to think I've gotten better at it over the years though I confess that I've never been one to lose the faith easily.
How to get loose?
As one of my bosses would say: “compare figures”
Remember that when you add a whole bunch of potentials, all you really have is nothing. Go on solids, count only the certainties. And once that inventory is taken; look yourself in the mirror and ask if the effort is worth the investment.
If you're honest with yourself, you'll be pretty surprised with the answers that add up.
Talk is cheap – anyone can feed you words; if they don't come from the heart then they're as good as noise.
That look in his eye could be an allergic reaction; the sweet smile was actually meant for the secretary and he invited you for coffee because he needed you to brief him on the latest information he missed out.

Don’t bother asking your heart; filled with hope it will only misguide you and help you to read between the lines that weren’t printed in the first place.
I've learnt that when a man likes you, nothing can keep him away and therefore, if he doesn't put in the effort, then neither should you.
(Even if I'm wrong, who would want a coward by their side!)

Re-evaluating the most recent of my interests, I decided that it really makes no sense to want to get to know someone that isn't interested in getting to know me.
Why want him to know what he missed out on?
Ignorance is bliss and if destiny is cruel, he’ll find out eventually at a point where it no longer makes a difference.
Women look and see too deep… men look and see no further than the surface.
And this is the screwed up difference in the perspective of the sexes.

The last I heard, my first crush was still single, still arrogant, still good-looking and still losing friends over women that he doesn't date for very long.
As for the recent crush; I was hoping to find out more but to try and get to know someone who barely registers your existence is about as productive as a fan that reads up on her favourite celebrity: useless information that has been stretched and adapted to impress and distract the reader from reality.
My first crush also happened to be my first kiss… behind a building so no one could see. I remember my palms going sweaty and my body going numb. My cheeks wanted to burst and I couldn't remember what I was supposed to do! He leaned it and touched lips with mine and before I could even feel their warmth… it was over.
That was it?!
No rush to the head, no fireworks?
Hell there was more emotion in the anticipation then in the whole process itself. I guess that's life's cruel way of preparing you for the reality that awaits you… And men still wonder why we women value foreplay!
As for the current – let's just say that excess anticipation is torture to the female brain!

Do we really know better with the passing of time? Does growing older guarantee better knowledge? Most people don't identify with children because they forgot what it's like to be one or feel like one… is it all that different?
After reminiscing down memory lane with my youth fresh in my mind, I looked in the mirror to look for the differences developed in the last thirteen years.
My face matured but I still looked the same… same nose, same lips, and even the same expressions although somewhat more controlled.
The biggest difference was found in my eyes, not in so much in colour and mostly in depth. The windows to my soul.
Is that maturity I see? Or is that the organization and insecurity portrayed by life's experiences?
The way I see it, deep down we're still our former childish selves thinking we know more simply because we’re bigger and so we call ourselves adults.
Because I'm older do I necessarily understand the world better?
I recall working the remote control better as a kid than now as an adult, perhaps the same goes for love…?
Have remote controls really become more complicated?
Does the intensity of feelings truly differ so much with the years or do we just find more ways to analyze and describe them?
We fool ourselves into believing that if the description is different and the conditions were different then so were the sentiments.
Does it hurt less? Does it hurt more or is it just what we tell ourselves or order to make it feel different… mature.

Time passes and I grow, I learn and I polish my perspectives but something inside me stays the same… is it the heart? Is it the soul? Or is it my inner child?
Life is bleak if you can't see it through the eyes of a child… where’s the intelligence in taking things for granted? Where the pleasure of tomorrow if you can't see it as an adventure?
Failure is when you forget that fun was the reason you started it all in the first place! Happiness… Love… Smiles…
That's what we’re all in it for!

Looking back, I came to only two conclusions:
You can only sincerely evaluate a certain period of your life once it's over, so why over analyze the present?!
And I don't regret any of the mistakes I made; only the ones I didn't attempt.

Life is short – dance naked.

S.O.S

Let me in…
Allow me to see you, to look in your eyes and see your soul.
I want to learn how your heart works.
To know the warmth of your smile…
Consent to my touch…
To discover every contour of your face…
I'd like to know your every angle by heart…
To know your thoughts is to risk falling in love…
I'll take my chances.
No Fear… give me permission into your forbidden world.
Show me what lies beneath the surface
I want to drown in the emotion that lies within the depths of your being.
To surrender to madness
And find that everything makes sense.
Oh bittersweet frustration to have you close…
To feel you far…
To want you near… to want you gone.
Let's do something insane!
The truth lies in a kiss, how will we know if we don't…
Pride.
I won't beg… but I suffer
With your indifference
With the desire to rip apart your defenses
Withholding nothing back…
I can't make you see beyond what you think you see
I can't force you to feel
I'm only as close as you let me…
Let's stop standing in the doorway
Slam the door or pull me in
Don't look at me that way and expect me to turn away.
Explain what my eyes can't tell my heart
Who are you?
What moves you?
Are there any answers to my questions?
Is what I see an illusion or only the surface to your ocean?
I want to swim into your depths
Am I permitted to see?
Let me in.

You won't regret it.

City Talk

There's nothing that pisses me off more than when people say the exact opposite of what they mean to say. You can't argue that they're lying because objectively they're not… however, when analyzing their words you find that the meaning doesn't correspond to the intention. It's clever and to those who use this type of language… diplomatic or friendly. It's a way of making you seem nice when you really don't give a shit.
It's annoying and it irritates the living daylights out of me!
It's a language most used in the big cities and although you don't pick it up right away, after a while you learn to decipher the hidden meaning behind the “good intention”.
Having heard enough bullshit to make me sick, there are certain phrases that are certain like for instance:

“Here’s my number, if you ever n want to go our or do something you just give me a call.”

Translation:
This number is meant for emergencies only. I don't really ever expect you to call unless you want to invite me to some amazing party everyone is going to or unless you're the bearer of the kind of good news the benefits me.

“If you need anything, just give me a call”

Translation:
If you're dying, I’ll probably take some time to come put a band aid on so that I can tell everyone how I'm your hero.

Here’s one of the top ten!:

“Damn! I was just about to call you!”

Translation:
I forgot your existence so it's good that you called otherwise I'd probably end up erasing your number from my phone list.

Bullshit!
It's the nice things people say to hide their true intentions and it's probably what I hate most about the big city.
Be rough… be cruel… be harsh… but be straight forward.
Say what you mean and mean what you say!
Is it really that hard?

Here’s my utmost favourite:

“That sounds great; we really need to do that one of these days…”

Translation:
…in perhaps two or three lifetimes from now.

I've learnt not to take this kind of talk personally and as they say in my “third world country” When shit talks and bullshit walks… smile!
Am I really the one missing out or is this kind of rejection no more than a mixed blessing?
I’d rather be quiet than dishonest and although I'm a bitch, I'm straightforward and those around me know what they can count on.
People live their lives complaining about the opportunities they miss out on and then they wonder why.
It takes two to tango and only one to dance alone.

Searching for Experience

She complained about the relationship that had stood the test of time. Together since they were fifteen years old, she lamented the fact that she hadn't experienced other men, other relationships…

She needed a wake up call!!!!!

If a woman experiences one relationship instead of ten, it's less nine times that she got her heart broken.
Less nine times she got betrayed.
Less nine time that she lost her faith and trust in love.
Less nine times that she had to pull herself up from the darkness.
Less nine bags of trash she needed to clean out before entering in a new relationship…

If a woman has the luck of having one long term and wakes up to the same face each morning then…
She has the privilege of experiencing all first hand moments with the same face…
The privilege of recalling those moments with the same face…
The privileges of recognizing every angle and every change on that face…
The privilege of finding that face with her eyes closed
The privilege of that face knowing and loving hers for who and what she is.

If a woman is in a relationship based on trust that allows her the freedom to have a big group of both female and male friends then…
She learns the bad experiences from others rather than hurting herself…
She gets to know her male friends at their most intimate without having to involve herself in a relationship with them…
She can relate at different levels with her different friends.
She get enough life experience from those around her to appreciate her man.

Love,
Trust,
Not to be taken lightly nor found at every corner nor built within mere days. What she has most women never find. That is experience!

My friend sat on a wall with me clearly free from doubt and the desire to embrace and appreciate her man clearly shone on her face.

First hand experience is overrated… because doing it all doesn't necessarily mean that you feel it all, live it all and figure it all out.
It's important to try new things, but it's even more important to know what you got and know what it is that you should hold on to.

Porto

When I was young, I recall looking out of my bedroom window and wishing to see further than my eye already knew. I wanted to travel and my heart yearned to pack a bag and adventure out to places that I'd only heard of.
People often make the mistake of associating distance to traveling; it is wrongly thought that the further you go, the more you know.
The way I see it, it's not how far you go or what you see but what you experience that defines your journey and traveling expertise.
This time, my trip wasn't all that far. Three hours on the Alpha Pendulum; that’s how long it took me to arrive in Porto and visit the city known for wine and good disposition.
I was told that Dom Pedro fell in love with Porto's charms, I have no difficulty in understanding this; before arriving, I could tell from the architecture and the green surrounding it that the city was built on charm and enchantment.
Perhaps it was the air that was lighter, maybe it was the fact that the traffic was calmer but without a doubt the inhabitants had a light hearted attitude that allowed one to relax and feel welcome.
Closing my eyes, I felt myself being transported back a couple of centuries where ladies and gents hustled and bustled about in the city. Businesses were specified and were built up by reputation. Fishing was making a living instead of a sport and those looking for a coin, shined shoes and carried shopping bags rather than indicate parking spaces.
Change is the only guarantee the future gives you.
And yet, Porto seems to be one of those cities that developed maintaining its roots.
One has merely to look at architecture… The city boasts the Crystal Palace and the Music House: The one has stood the test of time; the other seems to exemplify the future.
Sitting on the margins of the river in Gaia, I considered the one thing that time hasn't touched… Love.
Couples sitting on the margins of the river exchanged looks of tenderness and whispered sweet nothings in each other's ears. No matter how far back I try to imagine, I can still see them playing the same games of love with one another.
Love is a universal language and the culture that stands the test of time.

But my reasons for visiting had little to do with tourism and more to do with an exchange program set up by my company in order to give me the opportunity to get to know another department's ins and outs and obtain a better know how of another piece of the engine that makes our company function.
And although the trip to Porto was the perk of the experience, the truth is that I got more the exchange than I'd expected.
Aside the professional points that are more specific and technically directed to my working interests, what most impressed me has more to do with the people and working environment.
After working in Lisbon for ten months, I'd grown used to the individualistic ambition that comes with living in a big city. At first one's spirits are dampened but after a while, you learn to accept the environment for what it is as one would when integrating in another culture. You adapt. You blend and eventually you forget what it's like to be a part of a different reality.
In our call centre in Porto, I was reminded of the positive side of human nature, achieved when ego is set aside to work for a common purpose.
Teamwork.
Respect.
Comradeship.
People with different perspectives and ideas, interacting with the intent of working as a unit with a common purpose and goal.
Work and play sit on an even scale.
They work hard, but they play with the same zest.
I finally felt what has been missing in the last ten months and I felt like somehow I'd arrived home.
At first we were a bit shy and awkward but after the first jokes were shared, it felt as if I'd known them for years.
There was the calm colleague that reminded me of my yoga teacher, the energetic one with all the cool ideas, there was the jester and joker, the fashion fanatic, the sweet one, the girl next door, the smiley one and the one that ate yoghurt with a Chinese chopstick.

I loved their good humour, their jokes, their accent and the way the men always let the ladies go first… now that’s the kind of good manners that missing in modern days!
I loved their river with it's seven bridges, their clean beaches with ample boardwalk on the side for bikers and joggers and children and people that just wanted to enjoy the scenery,
I enjoyed a francesinha and promised to try the tripas next time I came around.
I love Porto!

A strange wave of melancholy washed over me as I said my goodbyes and sat in the charming train station of Gaia where the floors were still made of wood and the lamp posts of steel and if you ignored modern robes and the vending machine, you could swear you were in another century.
I didn't buy a souvenir; I didn't feel like I had to.
Porto gave me enough of itself to take in my heart with me home.
On the way home we passed Coimbra and I decided that Coimbra is definitely another place on the Portuguese map I'd like to see before adventuring out.

Life is about the journey rather than the destination.

The Odds

What I most love about talking to strangers in the exchange of perspectives and ideas that cultivate understanding or shapes your own.
In a discussion between three colleagues, we debated a theory that I rarely give much thought to.
Homosexuality.
I know what it is, I respect if for what it is and it makes little or no difference to my reality due to the fact that a person's sexual orientation has never affected my relationships.
I've been lucky enough so far to never have fallen in love with a man that's attracted to men. Although in my opinion, the motive of the rejection doesn’t make much difference in its weight.
If anything, I'd say that homosexuality is an easier reason to digest than any other.
In my female perspective, I reckon I'd feel less crushed when told that I wasn't desired due to my sex which I can do little or nothing about rather than the reasons that have the ability to cause doubts and insecurities about myself.

All of this I already considered with the exception of the very point we were debating. In one person’s opinion, it is probably easier for two gay men to attract one another and maintain a relationship than it is for two women. The arguments were:
1. Men have similar interests whilst women's interests are more varied. Two men would have few qualms in watching the same kind of movies or taking up the same sport. Most women can't even agree on the clothes they wear.
2. Men rationalize in a basic and objective way and therefore they don't vary much in opinions permitting an easier flow of communication. Whist women are very individualistic and strong defenders of their ideas.

We discussed more reasons in fine details however they all ended up falling under these two points.
Great!
As if men aren't scarce enough as is those that do exist have a tendency to choose each other. I recalled a documentary on the discovery channel that explained how there's a higher probability of a man being born with homosexual tendencies than a woman.
More bad news! That just narrows down the odds even more!

Facing all this information, a woman might as well fall into desperation if hoping to find a mate (welcome to the modern age crisis!)
At first I thought this was an exaggeration but at this point I'm one of those that have lost hope on finding a decent, single, secure, heterosexual man with similar interests that I'm able to feel the magic with.
Mission Impossible… there are better chances of winning the lottery!
It's searching for the extinct or praying for a miracle.

What does a man really offer more than a woman (forgetting of course the additional physical member which nowadays can be replaced with something that runs on batteries)
Nowadays women are handy with a screwdriver and what we can't do ourselves, we pay someone that can.
Our poor geographic orientation instincts are solved with maps or GPS.
Electric can openers, portable mini drills and instruction manuals… there's a replacement for every male utility you can think of!

Almost…
What I most value from the opposite sex begins with a man's touch, that masculine touch and texture that has no substitution. It can be argued though that a woman has more sensibility and knowledge of the female body to better pleasure another woman. But I wouldn't trade the caress of a man for the caress of a woman in any circuimstance.
Then there's that male scent that no fragrance can imitate. Male perfumes can be sprayed on anyone or anything but there's a scent that is found on a man's neck, between his ear and his hairline that simply can't be fabricated!
And then there's a man's embrace…
No woman, friend or teddy bear can possibly replicated the comfort and security found in the arms of the man you're in love with.
It's heaven on earth when a woman let's go of all her defenses to surrender to the safety and the strength of her man's embrace.
I can't think of a moment when I feel more of a woman that in my man's arms.

But as a colleague of mine one argued: it's an emotional illusion! Like chocolate or ice cream. Everything in enjoying one feels right and healthy but just as men… their destination is your hips!
Is the momentary satisfaction worth the long term delusion?

I wonder…
The more that times passes, the more of certain of life's aspects such as love and healthy relationships seem to sound like fairytales or dinosaurs on the brink of extinction. Hope begins to fade even to those that believe… few people still do.
I've taken use of a colleague of mine’s words when speaking about a decent mate:
“… they exist, I just haven't met one.”

In a crowded restaurant, I dine alone and catch the glances of some good looking men. I sorely notice that Porto woman are more advantaged in relation to good looking men than the Lisbon women.
However, I wonder about how many of men in the restaurant are valid potentials.
Perhaps it's easier and even wiser to turn gay…

However the odds that weigh against or in favour of finding that special person, the way I see it, it's all question of fate and luck rather than of numbers or of scientific explanations.
It's a question of meeting the right kind of person at the right place, at the right time. And that is subjective to every individual regardless of their sexual orientation.
If you've found your partner and you're happy, raise your hands to the sky and consider yourself blessed…
If you haven’t then live your life as best your can on your own and good luck on finding that someone special.

Beach Blues

There are places… corners of heaven on earth where one is meant to feel at peace.
It's these places that people go when they seek out their solace and equilibrium.
For some it's the mountains, other's it's the sea…
Your bedroom, a rooftop, a meadow…
Places you go to listen to your soul.

The ocean…
Powerful… Majestic…
Yet made by single drops of water…
It soothes… It surrounds…
It demands both admiration and respect
And when I feel like my soul is in turmoil;
The waves wash away the noise, calming my heart into hearing its own voice.

Stretching out a towel on the warm sand, I was grateful for the sun's embrace and wondered where my mind was when I considered trading in the warm sunshine for the artificial light of office lamps…
Spreading cream on snow white skin, I prayed for some colour despite the sunscreen I was defending myself with.
I usually only vary between two tones: White and Lobster.
Taking in my surroundings, I smiled at the two girls competing for mum's approval, showing off their cartwheels for anyone that would look.
There were two surfers in the distance waiting for the perfect wave that probably would never come in the stillness that the ocean was in.
There was a man with a heavy duffel bag selling potatoe chips and two towels to my right was a woman with baked brown skin that looked like she camped out on the beach for a living.

With little or no patience to attack the book I was reading, I took deep breaths of the salty air and beseeched my body to relax…
Any minute now…
My muscles would give in to the zen of the atmosphere, melting into the towel below me…
Right about now…
I should feel my body surrender to relaxation...
Sitting upstraight, irritation has the opposite effect
Why can't I relax?!

Opening my eyes, I'm suffocated with the image my eyes soak up…
Blue…
Bright Blue…
Deep Blue…
Infinite Blue…
The ocean, the sky… Blue.
And inside my chest, my heart chokes and drowns in blue.
A tear runs down my right cheek and I get the sensation that had I looked in the mirror, it too would've looked blue.
From the corner of my eye, I spot a plane in the distance with a blue tail.
Air France.
The sight of it should make me happy… and yet…
I felt blue.

Do you believe that when you ignore your heart's will, your soul becomes disturbed?

Mind over matter!
If you focus on what you're trying to avoid, you'll only make it stronger!
Ignoring the accusing cry of a seagull taking flight, I grabbed my book from my duffel bag and lost myself in words and sentences and paragraphs and pages…

Sunset
The final burst of heat and colour before succumbing to darkness.
The end of a day…
Too late for those that didn't grab the opportunity to feel it's warmth…
To early for those that prey off the shadows of the late hour.
One big star gives way to all the little ones…
An ocean of blue gives way to tones of pink, purple, orange and gold….
In moments… all will be dark.
For some it's the end, for other's a beginning.

As the sun went down on my day, I sighed in resolution that all was as it was meant to be.
I wasn't alone… but most importantly, I didn't feel alone.

Inner peace isn't found in the places where God poured out his imagination… the tranquility that one seeks comes within.
You can run in a million directions, arrive at a million destinations and still feel that you haven’t gone far enough…
Because you can't escape what you can't control and the taming of the beast within requires no more than the strength of spirit.

What have you done lately to put your soul at ease?
I'd stay and share my experience… but I'm late for a date with myself on the beach…