Sustanance, Laughter, Movement

I’ll be honest with you, recently I’ve been struggling with what to say on this blog. At times, even the words that I hear come from my own mouth sound jumbled up. To put it plainly, as a writer I just haven’t been feeling like me.


To some extend even writing this post was a struggle and I didn’t want to do the clichéd thing of writing blog posts about Christmas and New Year just for the sake of it. I wanted what I write to have meaning behind it and not just be mere words. Yet at this hour I can’t get back to sleep. And when I wake up in the middle of the night with episodes like this- I find myself switching on my laptop and typing away.

I don’t even know how this particular blog will turn out all I know is that there will be a beginning and and an end and something in between. So forgive me now if I end up rambling.

It is inevitable in this last week of 2011 not to think back at the rest of the year. It really has been a ‘blink and you miss it’ 12 months. And I have been pondering the one word that really rings out to me is ‘Sustenance’ Psalm 3:5 “I lay down and sleep and I awake for the Lord sustains me”. I cannot sustain myself. It is not me who is responsible for waking up the last three hundred and sixty something days. It’s been God. The revelation of that has only just hit me, That God would be so gracious enough to spare my life every day this year even with all my multiple flaws and mistakes. Grace and Mercy have never meant more.

As with any new year I see it as a fresh start. A chance to grow from the mistakes and make changes for the better. Yet there are two things that I’m aiming for in 2012-

Laughter

I vow to laugh more in 2012. Not just a chuckle or ‘ha ha he he’ I’m talking ‘bottom of your belly’/’tears rolling down your face’ laughter. I can count on one hand how many times I laughed so hard I almost released my bladder contents in 2011. At what point did I become so serious that I forgot to laugh. And the thing is that I see myself as a relatively easy going person but the funny seems to have been sucked out of me. It needs to be re-injected in 2012, no two ways about it.

Movement

When I was a couple of years younger and in school, I was so unaware of the fact that my friends and I as we were wouldn’t all be together at one time and place but this thing called ‘life’ happens. We go our separate ways, start careers, relationships and change. Some for the better others for the worst. But ultimately we grow. I believe that any growth is better than no growth. It’s better that a plant grows, albeit in the wrong direction, because at least you can nurture it and a guide it to grow straight if it has a tendency to lean to the side. Things can get in the way. Work, Jobs. People. And sometimes we cannot see it because we’ve grown so accustomed to things being that way we’ve adjusted around it- like the ivy plant. I realise now that in order for me to have movement and growth in 2012, some people had to go.

Sometimes people have to be moved because their aura was stunting our growth but often we cannot see it. Revelation 5:2 “Behold I am doing something new.” That is exactly what is happening. Something new is taking place.
As always,

I came. I saw. I blog.


Ruthie x

The Black List

 Like any other teenager - I suffered with spots.  Pimples. Zits.  Call them what you wish. They arrived on my face unannounced one day and I was determined to exterminate them one by one.

So, I picked them- because I believed that it would make them disappear. I  refused to heed advice from the women in the family, with their glowing complexions and wrinkle free skin, to leave my face alone.  I disobeyed.  As a consequence, I ended up with scars.  Or to be scientifically correct- hyperpigmentation.
As if the hormones in my body were not raging and colliding enough already- now I became even more self conscious that dark marks were now permanently etched on my cheeks, forehead and chin- and the world could see them as well. 

I began to hide.  Behind the loose powder and foundation- that was sitting on my mothers dressing table.  I became introduced to Iman, Fashion Fair and MAC at an age far too innocent for such things.The powder only worked for so long- and usually by the time I had returned from school and looked in the mirror it had dissipated- leaving my skin bare, as if I had never put any on to begin with. So I sought for something stronger.  Seek and ye shall find.  Welcome to the world of bleaching creams.

My history with such creams was not an abusive one.  I was strictly a beginner in all this.  My sole purpose was to regain back the complexion that I once had- I would merely dab on the strong smelling ointment to black pits on my face- rubbing and wishing them to fade.  And some of them did.  Other marks were more stubborn and to this day have refused to depart from me.

I had no desire to completely alter my complexion and become two or three shades lighter.  It didn’t even cross my mind- and I would laugh to myself as I walked past the women who had the fair skinned faces but ashy black knuckles, knees and toes.

 Skin bleaching ultimately is the ‘black’ parallel to using fake tan and being left with orange hands. Bleaching is to the black community- what tanning is to the white community.  Opposite effects but one common denominator. 

In my mind this was always a female dominated arena. Men seemed to be the minimalistic grooming type. With routines consisting of, soap,  water, razor, aftershave, fin. But the expansion of the male cosmetic market is vast. And we’ve all seen the adverts for the major companies using the faces of handsome sport stars to boost their products selling ability and the amount of men I’ve queued up behind in Boots re- buying their usual facial scrubs and moisturisers is testament to that. 
A recent conversation with a young black male, left me contemplating as he expressed that getting darker whilst on holiday was not desirable and he would attempt to try and do whatever it took to prevent it from happening.  I was a little alarmed that a guy so young would be consumed with image and how ‘dark’ he can appear.  As if his ‘blackness’ was an offence to some.  But with men such as Vybz Kartel becoming an ‘unofficial’ advocate for skin bleaching ( and even going as far as attempting to bring to the market his own male range of bleaching creams) it really is no surprise that bleaching abuse is crossing over gender boundaries.

 

                          Before                                After

The whole light/dark debate has been a big deal in the US concerning black women especially and their varying shades.  Its a debate that I’d rather not get involved in.  I’ll leave the Americans to get on and do what they do best.  I hope that the documentary gives the exposure/ closure that some women need in relation to the issues they have with their skin- but personally I doubt it will.

Alright, so some people have a preference.  Do I think it’s right to be discriminated upon because of the shade of your skin? Definitely not.  But when you allow peoples’ perceptions to define who you are- you’ve missed the boat.  I know of men who don’t find darker skinned women attractive as attractive as a lighter skin counterpart. Big deal.  But on the contrary I also know guys who find darker skinned women more appealing.  Every one is entitled to an opinion or preference- (however shallow or  condescending)- its an opinion none the less.  But it’s important that regardless of shade you appreciate the amount of melanin you have in your body.

At this present moment in time- I wouldn’t go back to bleaching.  However, I wouldn’t want to be judged if I did. I believe that I can control myself and not go to the extreme like Mr Kartel himself.  I’m aware of the implications and having tried milder fade creams they did 70% of the job for me. For now I’m happy, but there really is no telling what tomorrow may bring- I may wake up in the morning and decide I want to become Beyoncé's twin.  (I joke! I kid!) .

I came.  I saw.  I blog. 
Ruthie

Just Surrender.

I have no words to say. Oprah just said it all. Be encouraged.

I came.  I saw.  I blogged.

Ruthie

Becoming Woman

        

                                                                                   
                                                                        [Source]

On the afternoon of my 22nd birthday, I received a text message from a close friend wishing me a happy birthday.  I just happened to be in an important lecture where playing with phones/ sending text messages was forbidden but with my overall giddiness of my special day, I rebelled and kept on reading.  Besides wishing all the happiness in the world and giving me advice to make sure that I enjoyed the day, she also told me that at 22 I would begin to feel more like a woman. I laughed when I read that.  And I told her in the response to her text that her words had made me chuckle. Especially all that silly talk about becoming a woman. 

Womanhood is marked by different events and ages depending on your culture.  If you’re Jewish it may be the verified by a bar mitzvah or for some the moment that you turn eighteen or begin your menstrual cycle you have unknowingly stepped into womanhood.  I can say that I have always felt and acted feminine.  I like girly things like trinkets, cute babies, rom-com movies and although it is not my favourite colour in the world I’m not anti- colour pink.  But after being posed with this idea that at 22 I would begin to feel more like a woman I asked myself if I was still a girl or had I transitioned into womanhood without even noticing?  For I didn’t feel like a girl.  I no longer wore ribbons in my hair or played with dolls yet I’m not the CEO of a multimillion pound company (yet!)  or a housewife baking cookies in the kitchen.  So I must be lying somewhere in the in-between. 

In this year just gone by, I have learnt more about myself that in the last 20 plus years of my life thus far.  Because of the unexpected events and changes that have taken place beyond my control.  Although not out of choice, I have been thrust into different settings and surroundings where I had to learn to adjust, something that I really did not believe would be an major issue.

I’ve also learnt that although I like a cherish my own space- I’m not terribly fond of being alone.  Something I would have never have known had it not been for this year.  I like having people around me.  Whether they be sitting next to me on the train or being present in the adjacent room- I like to know that they are near.  They don’t have to say a word to me but their presence is enough for comfort. I’d never been able to answer the question of how many children I would like to have in the future but now knowing and understanding how I am, I can now conclusively say at the very least I want three- because I like the having people around me. 

I don’t really eat bread or drink milk.  It’s random- I know.  But if we are honest these two items are the two staples that you are guaranteed to find in any home.  I , however, after living away from home and doing my own grocery shopping noticed that for all the loaves of bread and pints of milk I was buying- I was never consuming them at a quick enough rate.  They would just sit in the fridge growing mould or becoming curdled. I was a creature of habit.

I love culture:  Something I guess I’d always known but have just received even more confirmation of.  I like to know how tradition and ways of live differ between races and people.  And in doing so I’m becoming less  consumed with just my own method of living, with my list of places to visit expanding rapidly. 

I wouldn’t have said that before turning twenty- two that I was immature and irresponsible, however, as much I probably hate to admit it I was still pretty much cushioned and rapped up in cotton wool that those around me had lovingly kept me in to try and keep out the perils of this world.  But at some point  you have to let go and begin to make decisions for yourself regardless of what anybody else says or thinks.  If  we don’t- then how will we ever learn? 

I don’t believe that there is a direct time in which we advance in to woman. Womanhood to me is a mind-set where you come to the full realisation that you’re mature enough to make decisions on your own accord and face up to the consequences of those decisions.  Some become women at thirteen, albeit reluctantly.  Others are well into their thirties and trying to maintain that party girl lifestyle- with a defiant refusal to grown up (So aptly described by Ms Amy Winehouse in her song F Me Pumps.)

But ultimately, womanhood is what you make it- depending on whether or not you choose to accept it. 

I came. I saw.  I blog. 

Ruthie x

Make mine a Cosmopolitan.

     I rarely drink.  Purely because I fail to see the obsession our society has with alcohol.   However, if it became a law that everyone should have a signature drink mine would surely be a Cosmopolitan.  Let me explain.  

When we were young we made friends with almost anybody.  Human, animal, insect, imaginary friend- children have a way of growing attached to just about anything.  Friendships were what we lived for, it was primarily the reason we went to school- to see and be with our friends.  For some there was that one special friend who just ‘got you’.  They were there when the class bully poured sand from the sand pit down your pants and they were the one who was there to console you when you peed yourself publically in the school assembly.  If that friend still happens to be in your life now, then you are fortunate. Extremely fortunate.  Because if we’re honest, the friendships we had when we were five and six years old are – worlds apart from the social circles we find ourselves in today. 

And I will try to fix you...

If you’re familiar with Coldplay, then you’ll recognize that the title of this blog comes from one of their songs.   The song lyrics actually have nothing to do with the topic of this blog- but are yet so fitting.

Hopefully you would have read my previous blog post titled: relationship 101: The art of pursuit (If you haven’t I highly recommend that you do.  It will change your life.  Ok, maybe not but it’s still worth reading.) Some people shudder at the thought of singleness, but it is a topic that always shows it’s face. And for anyone who has been single for a period of time and is now seeing their friends get married, talk about mortgage payments, and decide what colour they should paint the nursery, it can make you feel like the world is spinning around you while you’re standing still.

QOTD: A Fine Balance

“You see, you cannot draw lines and compartments, and refuse to budge beyond them.  Sometimes you have to use your failures as stepping-stones to success.  You have to maintain a fine balance between hope and despair.”

Quote from A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry

The 27 club

Date of birth. Pin codes. Post codes. Mobile phones. Historical events. Door numbers. Sort codes.  Account numbers. National insurance. Security codes. Passwords.  The change in your purse. Your car number plate.  The football score.  Minutes on a clock. Prime. Odd. Even. Square root.  Fibonacci.  Lottery numbers.  Number of songs on your iPod.     

The teachers at school weren’t playing when they said that maths was important. 

Year of 4

 

1999 was an iconic year for me.  It was the year that I purchased the first album I ever owned - The writings on the wall by Destiny's Child. 

Like most girls around that time I was boy band and girl group crazy.  The pop culture had submerged me in the sounds of the Backstreet boys, *NSYNC, Boyzone, Westlife, Eternal, TLC, All saints and lest we forget the Spice girls.  My bedroom was full of the faces of celebrities that I pulled out from Mizz Magazine and Smash Hits.  In my head I was married to all the members of backstreet boys (except Howie - I never really connected with Howie) and I genuinely believed I was the lead singer of a successful girl band who were yet to be discovered.

Girl Fights & Gossip Wagons.

Someone once tried to label me as being “Anti-female”.  But, I can assure you, as a member of the female species that I am definitely not.  However, what I will stand up and declare is that I’m convinced that too many girls spoil the broth. Let me explain.

As the saying goes allegedly it’s too many cooks that spoil the broth. Metaphorical in every sense and pretty self explanatory – simply stating that when you have one too many people putting their two pennies into the mixing pot it will usually equate for a recipe of disaster.   So the boundary supposedly lies within the notion that two heads are better than one, but ask one too many sous chefs for opinions on the best approach to make chicken soup and you are fighting a loosing battle.

For whatever reason- as women we have come to believe that it is our prerogative to ‘talk’ about each other behind turned backs, to the point that we no longer think - we just do.  We’ve now become our own audience.  So accustomed to the slander that flows from our lips we don’t even realise that it is slander – it has become as easy as counting to ten or riding a bike.

You can’t kid a kidder and you can’t hustle a hustler. A true gossiper knows every tactic in the book.

These individuals I call the plain clothed gossipers.  They know the tricks and schemes to acquire every piece of information like they’re squeezing cranberries for juice. They know how to ask those leading questions that can cause you to innocently spill all the information you have.  And yet their greatest line will be “You didn’t hear it from me.”  They will make you believe you have their trust and then the moment you walk away your information is being spread around like butter on toast.

In no way am I trying to make myself superior in the hierarchy of my own species.   There have been moments that I’ve had to drag my mouth in the pit stop like an F1 racing car and really had to check myself.  To my disgust I realised that I had adopted some of the characteristics of a plain clothed gossiper.  I would tell myself that there is no harm in knowing what girl X said about girl Y because I’m not verbally spreading it out of my own free will- it’s totally different if someone were to ask me.  So, what would I do? Bring my newly found information up into conversation, ever so subtle and casually, with the hope that someone in the circle will  advance the topic and then I’d be free to add my two bits worth- without feeling bad. Because in defence I could say- “You didn’t hear it from me.”

Needless to say, this approach turned around and bit me on the derrière.  Because for all the times I succumbed to gossip I felt so empty by the end of it.  I’ll admit- it felt good in the heat of the moment, sharing secrets that didn’t belong to me, but when the heat died out what had I fulfilled?.  The answer- absolutely nothing. 

 For the record: this is not to say that men don’t gossip - men gossip but they just don’t gossip loudly.(And between you and me- I’ve heard some men, who will remain nameless, run their mouths worst than some women I know) But I’ve come to realise that even as I’m getting older gossip doesn’t have an age limit- you don’t hit the menopause and then gossip no longer. Gossip is not only confined to the girls in the playground who wear their hair in pigtails.  Neither is gossip alien in the work place of the corporate world.  Gossip is the vehicle that needs fuel to move. And choosing to keep filling Gossip up at the gas station will only keep the engine running.


I’m not going to bother trying to tackle the psychological reasons of why we gossip- that is totally out of my expertise- but we do it- men and women- and its destructive.  It takes someone brave to step out of the gossip wagon and say- I’d rather walk than hitch a ride from Gossip. 

What will your choice be?

I came. I saw.  I blog.

Ruthie x
 

For Richer, for poorer.

[Source]

If you happen live in England, Scotland or Wales then the 29th April is a day of rest.  It may not be the Sabbath, but an opportunity to enjoy and celebrate the royal wedding between prince William and Kate Middleton.  I love weddings. Especially summer weddings.  Not because you get to look beautiful in your attire, there is free food and drink flowing and you can party the night away but more because of the public commitment being made between two individuals.    

Weddings and their meaning have changed in recent years, the bride does not necessarily have to wear white as a symbol of her virginal status- dresses can range in colour from black to red to just about any other colour of the rainbow.  All because it is the special couples day.  If you want fire breathers and stilt walkers to greet your guests at the wedding reception or choose to walk down the aisle to ABBA’s waterloo then there is nothing holding you back- because modern weddings reflect the couples personality in every which way.

Westminster Abbey is one of the most well known cathedrals in the world and next week it will be centre of attention as Will and Kate tie the knot. Hats will be worn, tears will be shed and vows will be made.  As I was browsing the internet I came across an article [click here for the link] stating that Kate Middleton will be omitting the word “obey” from her vows. Marriage is meant as a reflection of Christ’s relationship with the church (i.e.: his people) but has now been adapted by those who like the idea of marriage and quite fancy getting hitched in a church but are not willing to comply with the requirements and standards that God has put in place.  How any respectful leader of the Christian flock ( i.e. priest/vicar/ pastor/ minister etc.)  can allow rule bending in terms of vows is concerning- but I’ll save that for another blog :o) .    

Although I speak from the point of view as a believer of the Bible and Jesus Christ - I’m perplexed that anyone would think it’s okay to be married in a church- making a commitment before God (and man) and not choose to stick to the vows derived from the Bible.  Okay, so Kate and William may not believe in the Omniscient presence of God and the death and resurrection of his son Jesus Christ- so I cannot hold this decision against them - but like Myles Munroe once said- You can’t choose to be married before God and then get divorced in front of a lawyer or a Judge. Because those vows were not initially made in the courthouse but a church in front of friends, family and in some cases the rest of the world watching through their television sets. 

Definition - Vow: A solemn promise.

Vows are binding. We live in a ‘cop out’ world- where we weave our way out of situations.  For everything there is a plan B.  People no longer choose to love and obey on their wedding day.  They don’t stick with each other for richer, for poorer- in sickness in health.  Now we choose to love our spouse for ever ( and although there is nothing wrong with that- love and expressions of love mean different things to different people.)  Every married couple I know will tell me that marriage is hard work and there will be times when you want to pack it all in and run back to your single life- but the vows made are binding- till death do us part.  And you have to stick by it. 

Miss Middleton's’  apparent omission to say “obey” in her vows reminds me of Queen Vashti and King Xerxes from the book of Esther.  Queen Vashti’s refusal to obey her husband got her demoted from her position as Queen and consequently led Esther to be put in her place.  But the main reason why King Xeres got rid of Vashti was because of the advisories around him who suggested that if the rest of the wives of that day and age got hold of what the queen had done – there would be a female revolt in the land. 

Now, I’m not suggesting that this could happen to the future monarch however by omitting the vow to obey- nobody can get upset if it obidience doesn't happen.  Because it was never promised initially. 
Submission in a relationship happens out love for one another and God. If a man is reflecting Godly characteristics obeying/submitting will not be a chore for the woman.  Submission is not in place to supress women - it is an outward reflection of our walk with Christ.  

 

Ephesians 5:21-33 (The Message)

Relationships

²¹Out of respect for Christ, be courteously reverent to one another.

^22-24Wives, understand and support your husbands in ways that show your support for Christ. The husband provides leadership to his wife the way Christ does to his church, not by domineering but by cherishing. So just as the church submits to Christ as he exercises such leadership, wives should likewise submit to their husbands.

^25-28Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church—a love marked by giving, not getting. Christ's love makes the church whole. His words evoke her beauty. Everything he does and says is designed to bring the best out of her, dressing her in dazzling white silk, radiant with holiness. And that is how husbands ought to love their wives. They're really doing themselves a favour—since they're already "one" in marriage.

^29-33No one abuses his own body, does he? No, he feeds and pampers it. That's how Christ treats us, the church, since we are part of his body. And this is why a man leaves father and mother and cherishes his wife. No longer two, they become "one flesh." This is a huge mystery, and I don't pretend to understand it all. What is clearest to me is the way Christ treats the church. And this provides a good picture of how each husband is to treat his wife, loving himself in loving her, and how each wife is to honour her husband.

Source The Message Bible- from Biblegateway.com

I came.  I saw.  I blog.

Ruthie x

One born every minute

It seems as if this time of year is ominous with bringing children into the world- and the number of babies and expectant mothers around would only confirm this. The maternity wards across the globe must be booming if one child is being born every minute.  It’s a quite a humbling thought that of all the 24 hours that we’re given - 1440 new individuals just entered the world.

[Source]

Birth is never an easy topic to discuss if you're squeamish and the linings your stomach weaken at the very thought of blood.  But birth, is the one resounding similarity that everyone of us- dead or alive – has. We have all been born and our stamp of entry are the birth dates we possess.  Yet, there is one more unanimous similarity concerning birth. We are born and we belong. 

The image of the nuclear family has disintegrated with the western worlds’ view of what “The family” looks like.   Today, reflections of family life include images of the blended and single parent families.  We no longer feel alien at the thought of two individuals now coming together in union, both with children from previous marriages. 

Pressure exists when it comes to ‘the best’ times that women should start putting their fallopian tubes to good use.  Sometimes the sound of the ticking biological clock can be so loud - it causes some women willing try to get pregnant- knowing that their current relationship may never be longstanding. The responsibility of raising the child by themselves is not an issue that fills them with fright if they are financial secure and stable - it’s the realisation that without that sperm an egg is just an egg.

In a worldly sense, being born out of wedlock is no longer taboo.  Gone are the days where expectant unmarried females would hang their head in shame and have to suffer the brunt of the neighbours gossiping over the garden fence - nowadays we don’t blink twice. Yet, it goes without thought that the expectant mother would be fully accepting of the responsibility now being thrust upon her and the duty of care of for the seed that’s within her.  Still, as much as birth and belonging go hand in hand. You can be born- but not belong. 

The story of Gary Gatwick was unknown to me until recently.  His journey began just a couple of years before I was born and as cryptic as his name may sound it is a major clue about the location in which he was found – the female toilets of Gatwick airport.  One of the busiest international airports in the world and some unknown individual left him in a carrier bag in the south terminal toilets. It doesn’t even bare thinking what kind of turmoil the mother (or father) of the child was in and who’s to say that it was the mother or father who left the Gary in the toilets?  It could have been a relative, close family friend trying to cover up the shame and stigma attached to the newly born child. Maybe the financial strain of a child was too much to bare on the shoulders of the abandoner?

Who is to know? The possibilities could endure for days- usually scenes like this are seen in episodes of CSI or Without a trace- but even then there is always a happy ending.   But for Gary, (now known as Stephan, the name given to him by adopted parents) the mystery of who his mother may be continues, having tried to find her to much avail but currently not having no success.  While watching his documentary I was actually touched that a man, who is now a father himself and understands what it means to love and nurture a child, held no grudges against his biological mother for what she’d done.  He just wanted answers.

I heard some one describe forgiveness as giving up your right for resentment or anger towards a person who is fully liable for it.  And I had never considered thinking about it that mind-set. Verbally saying “I forgive you” is easy. They are just words but we can often still be harbouring anger like an anchor at sea.  When an anchor is thrown overboard- it keeps that ship rooted so it won’t move.  Unforgiveness prevents us from moving on.  We know the looks we give that individual that wronged us, even though we told them we’ve forgiven them. The negative thoughts we think about them inside our heads that we’d never openly admit and the remarks we make about them behind their backs.  That is not total forgiveness.

Currently, the UK has no baby hatches where abandoned babies can be placed safely and then moved on to foster care or adoption.  In comparison to countries such as Germany that has 96 and Czech Republic that has 40.  And in 2010, the issue of abandoned babies in Malaysia was so severe that the number of hatches available had to be increased*.  There is a void that attaches itself to those who discover they were not wanted at birth. Whether that be through abandonment, foster care or adoption, it is a hole too big to think about. And having not endured it myself, I cannot fathom to consider how I would feel knowing that I at some stage in my life I wasn’t wanted.

As an avid reader, I regularly pick up Pride magazine.  Without fail, every month it contains advertisements and supplements encouraging it’s readers to consider adoption and fostering.  Whether or not any of the children on those pages have been abandoned is neither here nor there- however there is a gap that needs to be filled before forgiveness sets in like the anchor.  One of my favourite movies is Antwone Fisher.  Based on a true story of a young man struggling with abandonment, when the point comes to meet the woman who gave him up, all he has to say to her are the following words…

Antwone Meets His Mother
Antwone Fisherat MOVIECLIPS.com

[Source]

I came. I saw.  I blog.

Ruthie x

Food for thought: Forgiveness is never easy and if you’re reading this and you are battling with forgiveness - I have but three words for you. Let it go. “Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies.”- Nelson Mandela

Feel free to leave comments below.

It's not you- It's me

[Sourced from Google]

In an aim to live up the title of this blog I’m forcing myself to write about things within life that build me up/ break me down and change me from the inside out. Situations may come and go, but I’m learning that it’s how we deal with them that really matters. We can spend so much time feeling frustrated about a issue that we fail to get the core of the matter. And, eventually when we stop throwing our toys out the pram and take a moment to evaluate the scenario, it can be horrifying and often off putting to realise that there is a rather large slice of humble pie we need to swallow.

There used to be a programme I watched as a kid called Bernard's watch. Basically, a boy called Bernard had a magic watch that could pause time at any moment. So whatever the situation he could deal with it by using the clock and ultimately buy himself free time. I know that I was not the only child who would watch that programme and wish I had access to that watch. There were many of us who would have given our dinner money, Pokémon cards and then some just to have Bernard's watch. But I grew older. And then I realised that the programme was just a method of trying to engulf me as a child and make use (and money off) of my child like imagination. Yet, life has taught me that time is not my own. I cannot control it no matter how much I try. Realising that hurt me, like a harsh slap right across the face.

I cannot fast forward. rewind or pause time. I don’t have Bernard’s watch. I just have to wait. Patiently. The highest order of discipline is patience. Although things may not be following the path and route that I would hope for it doesn’t mean that just because it hasn’t happened yet that it won’t eventually.

“For the vision is yet for an appointed time and it hastens to the end [fulfilment]; it will not deceive or disappoint. Though it tarry, wait [earnestly] for it, because it will surely come; it will not be behindhand on its appointed day.”

Habakkuk 2:3 (Amplified Bible)

Believe me, the above are the last words that I wish to hear right now because in the words of Sunshine Anderson, “I’ve heard it all before”. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. But sometimes, we need to hear these words again and again just so it can be re-enforced before we put ourselves back to square one.

So, even though there is a mountain of snotty nosed and tear stained tissues beside me as I write this, my beautiful struggle is teaching me on this sun shining morning, that whatever the situation- God’s timing is always perfect. Not a minute more, not a minute later. I just need to keep my eyes on the vision- because I know that one day I’ll look back and read this blog again and be able to replace my tears of frustration for tears of joy.

Be encouraged.

I came. I saw. I blog.

Ruthie x

White men can't jump - Black men can't swim

Whenever someone starts a sentence with the words, “I’m not being racist”, it sends a shudder down my vertebrae because I fear what's coming next.

For as long as I can remember, I have always been the ‘minority’- whether it be in school, where I grew up, and even university and shockingly for a lot of people I had the pleasure of rubbing shoulders with during the years, I was the first ‘official’ black person they had ever met or formed a friendship with. Besides the obvious high flyers they knew from television and film which primarily was either Will Smith and or Whoopi Goldberg (Throwback moment: I will never forget the time that some sad soul announced quite publicly in the school playground that I resembled Whoopi and my brother Will Smith. Will Smith is quite a catch and being compared to him is honourable- but Whoopi Goldberg!? (much respect for her acting skills) but my braids could not have been that nappy to mistake them for Whoopi’s dreads) many were totally unaware of other successful black celebrities besides Whoopi and Will. Yet, alongside all that for some reason there is this belief that as we become more and more P.C the use of the “I’m not being racist” tag is merely a mechanism of safety just in case we become accused of an offense that we genuinely did not intend.
Contrary to that, there are some who use the term to actually cover up their underlying feelings of a particular race and in actual fact the P.C rules become their saving grace because now they can probably get away with voicing things after using the prefix of “I’m not being racist” - just like the guys trying to hide their emotions with the “No- homo” saying that is floating around.

Woody Harrelson & Wesley Snipes in the 1992 movie, “White Men Can’t Jump”

[picture sourced from google]

Some people are uncomfortable when things don’t fit the norm, especially in a social/ racial setting. It’s that awkward moment when you find out that the Asian guy in your halls is studying for his PhD in English Literature and American studies, (not maths or science) and that his parents are estate agents (not shopkeepers) who were born in Kenya (not Pakistan). Or even more so, when you find out that the guy in the office who resembles Rodney from Only fools and horses and looks a bit like a geezer reveals to you that he is actually quite fond the theatre and then gives you his thoughts on the last book he read - Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart. Some of us, if faced with these situations, would not know what to do with ourselves, for a while we’d look a little shifty, unsure of how to stand and where to direct our eyes and all because our ideology of a particular race has been squashed flat.

Scientific studies have shown that the black race has a greater bone density than the white community,and thus, is one of the reasons behind why many black people do not take to water as would a fish. It’s also known that a majority of black people are more likely to be lactose intolerant because of the decline of the enzyme lactase (that is responsible for the breakdown of dairy products) throughout childhood . Does that mean we should all boycott buying milk? When Justin Timberlake broke solo from N*Sync and released his debut everyone was in shock and awe when they saw a white boy dance like black man- but he is living proof that white boys can dance (well some of them anyway :o)

The root of the swimming issue is a generational defect. In order to save themselves and in some cases to cover up their own inability to swim many black elders would warn their children never to go to the river or lake unless they intended on drowning because they knew that if they ever did they were not within a position to save them. So this fear has been passed down from generation to generation to the point where black people will quite willingly declare, “ Black people and water don’t mix”. But the more we repeat this, the more we believe it and we’re only teaching people how we should be treated. However, had swimming become part of our recreational culture alongside, dance and music- maybe the starting blocks at national swimming galas would have a couple more black faces peering into the blue water.

This is not just a black thing, it’s not just a white thing and it’s not just an Asian thing- its a people thing. And if we don’t seek to rectify the misconceptions that people may have of our races then we are only fuelling their belief of a bunch of lies that will only starve them from the truth that is out there. Rather, what we need to question is whether people see us and then associate all the restrictions of things that we cannot do based on our race: or do people see us and then see everything that we could possibly become?

Whoever coined the term, ‘White men can’t jump’ definitely had their tongue firmly placed in their cheek- but I believe the meaning behind it is deeper than just the superficial. For every race there are unchartered territories that communities are yet to leave their footprint on and the main reason why it hasn’t happened already is because they are under the notion they can’t. When in reality all we really need is someone to lead the way so the rest can follow suit.

[picture sourced from google]

(Cullen Jones: American freestyle sprint swimmer and Olympic gold medallist teaching children how to swim)

I came. I saw. I blog.

Ruthie x

A poem about weed

*** WARNING! What you are about to hear will blow your mind ! You have been warned in advance ***

If you haven’t heard about P4CM –what are you waiting for? Click the link- there is no time like the present. http://www.p4cm.com/

QOTD: Who ate all the pies?

I’ve just finished reading The other hand by an author called Chris cleave. This Nigerian proverb stood alone on one of the final pages of the novel. It’s food for thought- so I’ll leave you to chew over this one.

“If your face is swollen from the severe beatings of life, smile and pretend to be a fat man.”

Nigerian Proverb

Relationship 101: The art of pursuit.

Picture the scene. You’re alone in a dry desolate place. For this purpose, lets call it the desert. There is nothing but you and the sand dusting up your shoes. A tumbleweed just rolls pass- pushed along by some ghost like figure called The wind. You look to your right and then you look to your left. There is no visible life, but desert land for miles and miles in each direction. You need a sign, some sort of indication to let you know where you are. But hold on a minute, what’s that you can see in the distance? You squint. Your left eye a little more closed than the right. In the distance you can make out a signpost further up, about 250 yards away. You begin to walk up to it until your heart drops as you internally mull over the words on the metal frame.

“Welcome to Singleness- a place everyone will visit at some point- but only the fortunate ones survive and live to tell the tale. How long you stay is entirely up to you. Population number: You, yourself and errm you!”

In ode to Valentines Day being eminently just around the corner again, for some of us, its just another day that we will fulfil our duties of going to work/ school/ college etc and walk straight past the gimmicks of love hearts and teddy bears totally unaffected by yet another ploy to separate us from our hard earned cash. Yet somewhere out there, there is someone screaming out from the Single town asking when will it be my turn. Lest we forget that at times, it can feel and appear that we are the only ones without a ‘boo’-and are aptly trapped in the wilderness with lack of choice and options in the relationship department.

Now I’ve hit my twenties and can no longer comfortably tick the 18-21 box, age is more of an issue- a clear sign that I’m getting old(er). Meaning that goals and aspirations I may have set in my teens are now under serious evaluation than ever before, checking to see if I’m any closer than I was in the beginning. Every where I go, regardless the circle of friends there seems to be the same rolling topic in conversation which usually begins with, “So, how’s your love life.” If not directed at myself, then it usually serves the purpose of a topic shifter at the dinner table or whatever the social setting. For whatever reason a large majority of us twenty something's believe that time is ticking and for the females the biological clock even more so. We’re being made to think if we’re not dating someone now, then we won’t be engaged by 24, married by 25 and pushing out the first baby by 27.

But, what happens if you don’t particularly want to slow down. If you want the girl/ guy of your dreams and you want them now- what then do you do? You take advice from the best there is. The people who made the rules to the game. No longer is dating as easy as boy meets girl, fall in love, meet the parents, walk down the aisle. Today we psychoanalyze if he really is that into you and people like Alex “Hitch” Hitchens actually exist. Appearing in the flesh as people such as Paul Carrick Brunson and Rachel Greenwald. Help is available to those who may never have had a shot with the man/ woman of their dreams just by placing them in the right situations at the right time or saying the right words when the moment strikes. The plethora of relationship aids out there are available for the single person today are numerous. And a lot of , if not all of how to snag that man/woman is all to do with the mind. In a recent discussion I had with some friends, my naive self was exposed to the games that men and women play to set up the trap- that ultimately leads their ideal spouse into their arms.

• Understand that Ignorance in bliss. What they don’t know, can’t hurt them. You can’t predict what is going to happen next- but you can always be one step ahead, so you play things out one step at a time.
• Aloofness: One of the biggest principles displayed. Add some mystery. You could be the biggest simpleton on the earth- but by conjuring up some mystery about yourself you can become intriguing. Don’t give too much of yourself away at the beginning of the game. Remember that it is all about the subtlety.
• It’s all in the little things. The places they go, the friends they have etc. Without having stalker tendencies and risk being slapped with a restraining order, in the early stages we should be doing our homework- making sure that we can woo and woo well.
• Who or what is their rock? Their go-to when times get tough? Well if it isn’t you then it needs to be, Make them feel that they are completely dependant on you. Because then most of the hard work would have been done. You’ll have them where you wanted, and don’t forget the fact that you should always give importance to what is important to that person. Even if it’s their child from a previous relationship or a pet hamster.

So, although the above is just a snippet of the many games/rules available let’s say you follow the rules and you finally have the man/ woman of your dreams. On the exterior you look hot together- a real power couple possibly rivalling Beyoncé and Jay-Z/ Michelle and Barak/ Will and Jada. Everything is going swell, you’ve met the parents and things seem great. The engagement ring is sitting on the finger and one of you is about to change your last name. You’ve clinched the target. The game is over now -mission accomplished. Right?

With all this talk about how to get the one you want, there seems to be a void concerning staying with the one you're with and maintaining satisfaction in the relationship.The world has not mastered that yet and the divorce rates in society are a prime example of such evidence. So, what are we really pursuing? We place all this time and energy into reading the signs, reading in-between the lines, around the lines, behind the lines that we have ceased to step back and actually look at the sentence as a whole. Were really after their heart or just after their hand? The games we play are fun, its a challenge to see if we really can get the person we have always dreamed of but what’s the success rate behind it actually lasting? It seems now that we’re more inclined with the actual thrill of “the initial pursuit” than we are with maintaining the standards we set to achieve the guy/ girl . Boredom or “irreconcilable differences” as stated on many divorce certificates would prove to suggest that the challenge we once looked at with eager eyes doesn’t seem so stimulating anymore- the fun of the pursuit has ended. So, as a result we deviate from everything we worked so hard to get initially.

It’s beyond me that guys/ girls who have some of the worlds most beautiful women/ men on their am will willing cheat with people who are a meagre fraction of those they married. But after thinking about why cheating occurs in relationship pursuit is the key reason. It’s a hurdle that couples are faltering at- because there are new challenges and distractions elsewhere. Wedding pictures look good, but in five years down the line is the marriage a mirror image of how good the couple looked in the picture? Those in relationships (men and women) need to think about whether we are willing to keep pursuing the heart of the one we love when the wedding day is over and the marriage begins. There are too many easy options i.e. divorce/ separation/ friends with benefits but it’s not tackling the issue real issue that giving in and giving up is a cop out and only highlights the issue that very few are willing to pursue and stand by the vows they make. Both the man and the woman need to make sure they do their best to keep their other half satisfied emotionally, spiritually and physically. If pursuit ends when the rings on the finger than the battle’s lost- no matter how hard you had to fight in the beginning.

“Eagerly pursue and seek to acquire this love [make it your aim your great quest]”

1st Corinthians 14:1

I came. I saw. I blog.

Ruthie x

PS: If you like, then share. Facebook/ Twitter/ Carrier pigeon -take your pick!

QOTD: Optimism Vs. Pessimism

“Two men looked out from Prison bars. One saw mud- the other saw stars.”

Anon

Which direction are you looking?

I came. I saw. I blog.

Ruthie x

All good things come from Essex.

Q: What do you call an Essex girl with half a brain ?

A: Gifted!

Even besides the bad jokes I stand unashamed of my Essex roots. I may not be called Sharon, Tracy or Chardonnay. Neither am I partial to donning a pair of white stiletto heels on a rare night out at the Sugar Hut Village. And contrary to popular belief I have more than two brain cells to rub together (and I have the degree certificate to prove it.) Yet I stand absolutely firm in my stance that all the best things come from Essex. Okay, so maybe I’m fabricating my facts a little, but- I can certainly say that the next biggest thing is from Essex and her name is simply

Jessie J.

I must confess that my discovery of Jessie J happened last year while I was surfing YouTube listening to music, when instead I should have been finishing off my dissertation. I found this girl sitting in her bathroom singing about how ‘Mama knows best’ in a Prince t-shirt and multi-coloured pyjama pants and I was blown away. Literally. The voice that came out of the person trapped in the computer screen was enough to have me hooked. I couldn’t keep my discovery to myself and I found myself sharing Jessie’s wondrous voice with my fellow friends (Any distraction from our dissertation was welcomed with open arms). In awe we decided to look at other videos she had uploaded and the mouse beneath my hand clicked on one video with a title of ‘Big White Room.’

Words Fail me. Often times, its’ hard to come across a song that can mean so much to so many people. But, at that moment when my friends and I shared a dodgy set of headphones in our university computer room trying to listen to Jessie belt out ‘Big White Room’- we all knew that her lyrics had touched us but all on different levels. What ‘Big White Room’ meant to me- was completely different to what it meant to my friends but undeniably we were instantly connected to Jessie's voice and honest lyrics.

So now Jessie J is on the cusp of blowing up after putting in her ten thousand hours of writing over a hundred songs and not only for herself but the likes of Chris Brown, Britney and Miley Cyrus (Remember Party in the USA- that was Jessie J!) With a Brit award soon to be resting on her mantelpiece and the album Who You Are released later on this year- in my opinion the best thing about her besides her voice is that she hails from Essex. No longer will myself and fellow Essex natives be the brunt of dead end jokes or misleading reality TV programmes that give a dishonest image of what it means to come from and live in Essex. Soon and very soon we are going to have more accolades attached to our county and I’m sure Jessie J is going to have a lot to do with it. Lets just hope that what Elvis did for Graceland and MJ did for Little Gary, Indiana- Jessie J can do for Essex. Because let’s face it, after watching The Only Way is Essex, we’re in need of redemption.

I came. I saw. I blog.

Ruthie x

PS: Please share with your friends via email/ twitter/ Facebook and let’s help Jessie J’s album get to number 1 when it’s released. Thanks : )

The Help

I devour books. It’s a habit and not one that I’m looking to break anytime soon. I have to thank my mother for telling about this book- as it had not been for her, I probably would not have heard anything until the movie release this coming August. She, (my mother- not the cat’s mother) picked up this book after the cover caught her eye in a book shop. It was marked half price- so she though. So when the sales assistant told her that it had been put back to its original price and was the offer was no longer available, she decided to leave it- she was in a rush with the demands of being a wife and mother too great for her to stand there debating with a 17 year old assistant. Even though it was well within my mothers statutory rights to have the book at the marked price.

So, like the geek that I am, I found out a little more about the book. I read the blurb and some reviews and then decided to part with 799 pennies and purchase a copy. And I can say, my hands have been glued to it since page 1.

The story is told in the voice of three main characters, Aibleen, Minny and Skeeter. Two of which are maids for affluent rich white women in the heart of Mississippi and the latter a white female who falls into the “rich white woman” category purely because of her race. However, It is Skeeters’ determination for change that stirs up the passion with these women merely known as ‘The Help’ to challenge the system that has held the suppressed for so long. And through it all a beautiful friendship is formed with the most unlikely people. The era is the 1960 and the scene is Jackson, The South. A place now racially integrated but has had it’s longstanding troubles with issues of race. ‘The Help’ challenges the stereotypes that were in place at that time and the irony that these hired black women raised the children of the wealthy white community but were not trusted not to steal the silver.

After I finished reading the book I had to find out more about the author Kathryn Stockett. She has been know to say in interviews that the real reason for writing ‘The Help’ was to cure her homesickness as she was a girl from the South now living in the Big Apple. The enormity of what it must of cost her own childhood Help, Demetrie, growing up had now been more apparent to her and the hidden voice of all these women who raised babies completely different races to themselves when many of them had either numerous kids of their own they were struggling to feed or had lost children through misfortunate events and stillbirths. Yet they cared. Yet they nurtured.

Although I don’t think of myself as a softie there was a part of the book that made me weep- The account of Callie talking to Skeeter, relaying past experiences as being household help, (page 260)

“When Miss Margaret die of the lady problems thirty years later, I go to the funeral. Her husband hug me, cry on my shoulder. When it’s over, he give me an envelope. Inside a letter from Miss Margaret reading ‘Thank you. For making my baby stop hurting. I never forgot it.’ Callie takes off her black-rimmed glasses, wipes her eyes. If any white lady reads my story, that’s what I want them to know. Saying thank you, when you really means it, when you remember what someone done for you” She shakes her head, stares down at the scratched table- it’s so good.”

Kathryn captures so beautifully that amidst all the guilt some readers may feel about having domestic help from another race and the segregation between two communities- saying thank you is of human understanding regardless of colour of creed. And it is clear to understand that this is her thank you to ‘the help’ that raised her. It was not every white household who treated ‘the help’ roughly- and this is noted throughout. Kathryn Stockett also highlights that as ‘the help’ became established within the family the more needed they were- life could not function without them, for who would cook? Clean? Play with the children? Feed them, bathe them? Do all the ironing, washing? And still use the coloured bathroom out in the garage, sit alone at lunchtime- just to make the segregation even more distinct and then either walk miles to get home on blistered feet only to wake up the next morning and do it again.

This is not a book of guilt- Stockett, I believe, is not playing a guilt trip to anyone from the south who had a black maid but rather it is a novel circulating the love and belief that justice prevails and for women to realise, “We are just two people. Not that much separtes us. Not nearly as much as I thought” Quote from Skeeter.

I read somewhere recently, that you as a writer you should never write about a topic because its in fashion but rather write about the thing that irritates you or is pressing hard on your heart because then you can help people see your view even more so when your passion is running through it. I may not know Kathryn Stockett personally but 444 pages had lead me to believe that she is a woman so fuelled by the silence of these women and the contrast of her life to theirs as she grew up that she decided to step into their world and help tell their story.

Analytically, from knowing a little more about the author it is clear to see that certain elements of particular characters within the book ,such as Skeeter and Mae Mobley reflect little parts of Kathryn and by reading it you can see that Stocketts’ heart and soul has gone into this novel. That even if she never writes another novel- I hope this book helps to validate her career as an author and do for her what ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ did for Harper Lee.

The movie, with the same title is out August 2011- let’s support it because I have no doubt that it will be end up in the classics category with Gone with the wind and The Shawshank Redemption. But before you settle down with your popcorn- buy the book and read it, because you know that after the release of the movie sales will be rocketing and at least you can be one of the few who would have read the book even before the trailer ends up on our screens.

Rating: 5/5

Some stills from the upcoming movie:

QOTD: Silencing the doubters

“Silence anyone who ever tries to doubt you.”

Mos Def, from the song Brown Sugar.

Power

I am LOVIN' this song and I have had this song on repeat all week (no exaggeration). It may be Kanye West's beat but the lyrics are POWERFUL- aptly so, because this song is called POWER. I had heard of Etizz and seen him minister a couple of times so when I heard about his FREE (YES FREE!!!) mix tape I had to download it asap. This is just one of the tracks from the mix tape but every song is of full quality with uplifting lyrics. Be encouraged and recognise that the God of heaven above has supreme power.

Power: E Tizz feat True to da name

As always,

I came. I saw. I blog.

Ruthie x

PS: Make sure you download it, here( below) is the link: http://etizz.bandcamp.com/album/we-in-the-building-vol-1

It's free!

It's free!

It's free!

Expiry Date

“Why do all good things come to an end?”

The smell of anything that has reached its’ expiry date is never pleasant. Whether it be milk, bread, eggs or left over tuna, we never hesitate to throw that item straight in the bin. Why? Because we know that if we eat it, it will surely be of no nutritional benefit to us.

Over time, there is a lot more than just the contents of our fridge that can turn sour. The reason that manufacturers put a sell by date, use by date and expiry date on items we purchase it to protect us as consumers and them and providers-so we don’t end up taking them to court and suing them due to their lack of care. If we choose to drink milk that should have been thrown out 2 months ago, then we are risking our health at a very high stake, because according to the manufacturers guidelines, we’ve already been warned- via the expiration date. Yet- at times, and I think we are all guilty to this, we fall short of not reading the small print, because we believe that we’re invincible to certain areas in our life turning bad.

Think back to when you were in school. Are the people who were you closest friends still your closest friends today? Are the clothes that you paraded around in and saved up months to purchased the same clothes that you wear with pride now? I’m pretty sure that the answer would predominately be no. Not because, those options aren’t any good, it’s just that you’ve changed. Your needs have changed and as a result certain things that we thought would last forever haven’t because they can’t.

We never look at a situation and gage when this will have to be tossed out, because the expiry date is due, but naturally we move on. Acknowledging that there are better choices, opportunities people etc. for us but if our hands are still clinging on to the last of the expired milk and eggs we cannot embrace the fresh produce available to us.

“To everything there is a season, and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven.”

Ecclesiastes 3:1

Change is good, its progressive and natural- we just have to embrace it. I used to wonder why companies would bring out newer models of things that we already have. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it right? But, then I realised that certain things in life are made obsolete. Because the major companies need to keep one step ahead of the game and keep us as the consumer needing, and in some cases, wanting more. So, they give their products a shelf life. That’s why you iPod, laptop. TV (insert any device/ item you're attached to here) always breaks down right at the moment that the newer version is being launched.

Conspiracy? Nah. Co-incidence? Nope. Bad luck? Pshh! Doing us a favour? I think so. Some would just put this down to good ol’ marketing strategies, however, as much as marketing can and does mess with us psychologically, they are also helping us progress. Or else, we’d all still be sitting in awe gazing at an 8 inch black and white TV- thinking that we’ve reached the pinnacle of technology. Thanks to expiry dates on certain advancements in life we no longer find ourselves tediously rewinding back cassette tapes and videos. But now we have DVD’s, blue ray, HDTV and even 3D television. And in years to come, the latter will have reached their expiry dates and we will have moved on to something greater. Usually it’s only the ‘weirdo in the corner’ who choose to stay stuck in the past. The person who refuses to acknowledge that you don’t need to send messages via donkey or carrier pigeon, when you can send a text/ email or use Skype.

Although preservation helps us remember where we came from, there is no point in holding onto the eggs you bought a month a go, because sooner or later, they are going to go off and leave a terrible stench. And, we all know, that it’s not wise to put all your eggs in one basket anyway. So, lets be aware that there is an expiry date, whatever it may be, jobs, commitments, habits, even if it’s a bad relationship or friendship that has turned sour over time. Maybe it’s time to open the lid and pour the contents of that carton down the sink and reach out for that fresh carton/ packet of whatever until the time comes to move on again.

I came. I saw. I blog.

Ruthie x

QOTD: Resentment

"Resentment is like drinking poison and then hoping it will kill your enemies"

Nelson Mandela