I seem to have wasted valuable time questioning myself, going through the unoriginal mid -(I’m not giving in quite yet to the word “late”…wait until July) 20s vicious cycle of who am I and who do I want to be, and after visiting Gran and Grandpa it came to me. Forget all those classes about the destruction of cultures and ecology by those dastardly British conquering the world, I am who I am, and the only thing a girl with a grandmother born in British Guiana can be…I’m a colonialist.
Now there’s no way I want England to take control of China and a few other small countries, or any way I want to excuse years of chaos caused by ruling thousands of folks who’d managed to rule themselves quite well for centuries before we brought “order” to them, but the colonialist mentality sure explains a lot.
I don’t need to choose between wanting to travel the word in search of adventure with being perfectly content staying at home to try out a new recipe. For generations family members have set off to live, work, and travel through exotic lands, and have still made it home in time for tea or pre-dinner drinks. After all, what’s a dinner party without a story or two about encounters with a lion or plans for the next adventure?
So I gladly surrender myself to my family’s past, it is genetics and who can argue with science? (Ok, point taken, science it practically all about debate but that’s beside the point.) The next time I sit on the banks of the Chobe, or start filling my notebook with family recipes, or spend the morning learning some bizarre new international dance I’ve taken a fancy to before having friends over for dinner I won’t need to justify it to myself or feel like I need to focus on one over the other. I am who I am, and this is who I want to be (for now).
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Analytical or Artsy
My fondest memory of my Auntie Eli was driving through the countryside as she grilled me to find out what I thought made a good friend. I think after going round and round about for a couple of hours (mainly in conversation, but maybe a little bit with navigation) we’d finally sorted it out, and I’d started to understand how I have such a diverse group of people I care about. After a certain stage a lot of it just comes down to the caring.
But what drew us together in the first place? I realized recently that I’ve gone through a stage of spending a lot of time with engineers and hadn’t even noticed it since we aren’t talking about engineering when we spend time together. (I like renaissance engineers. Engineers by day… rock climbers, theater buffs, painters, salsa dancers…by night/weekend.) So why do I feel so at ease in the crowd? My immediate response was that they were analytical, but what kind of a response is that? Am I attracted to people who like to question and try to find reason out of chaos or once you get to a certain level of analysis, create chaos out of reason?
But lots of my closest friends are artsy and guided more by their hearts than their heads. Maybe the recent trend towards scientific minds has been because I’ve just been run down lately and look for comfort in the known and similar?
Does it just reflect who I am? Someone who struggles to balance the security of a bullet pointed plan and goals with the need to throw caution to the wind to tackle mountains and search for sea turtles?
But what drew us together in the first place? I realized recently that I’ve gone through a stage of spending a lot of time with engineers and hadn’t even noticed it since we aren’t talking about engineering when we spend time together. (I like renaissance engineers. Engineers by day… rock climbers, theater buffs, painters, salsa dancers…by night/weekend.) So why do I feel so at ease in the crowd? My immediate response was that they were analytical, but what kind of a response is that? Am I attracted to people who like to question and try to find reason out of chaos or once you get to a certain level of analysis, create chaos out of reason?
But lots of my closest friends are artsy and guided more by their hearts than their heads. Maybe the recent trend towards scientific minds has been because I’ve just been run down lately and look for comfort in the known and similar?
Does it just reflect who I am? Someone who struggles to balance the security of a bullet pointed plan and goals with the need to throw caution to the wind to tackle mountains and search for sea turtles?
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Control
Some days are just crap. People are mean, they say hurtful things, work’s overwhelming, personal life’s overwhelming, sometimes, and it is just too much. But how much control do we have over stopping the spiral or even preventing it from starting? Can we put the troubles of the day (or past month…as the case may be) on hold, just simply press pause, and decide to create a wonderful day?
To say the past month has been a challenge would be an understatement. Back to back weeks of overtime, finding out Grandpa has advanced cancer, Gran going into hospital, Laura undergoing yet another treatment in the hopes that one of these days something will work, pulling back/neck muscles, not being able to play tennis/do yoga/load my bike onto my car, postponing the trip to Kilimanjaro…I’ve felt a little drained.
So I said enough. Enough of feeling the weight on my shoulders, what I need are bubbles...lots and lots of bubbles, and let’s throw in some weightlessness for good measure. So on Sunday I woke up, got out of bed, drug a comb across my head, bum, bum (man I’m easily side tracked these days).
Anyway…I woke up with the sun, put on my new running shoes, and went for a long jog around the lake. There’s something extra special about Sunday morning jogs around Lady Bird Lake. It’s so quiet, and the only other folks out and about are other long distance runners who respectfully acknowledge each other in passing, always with a smile and often a friendly “good morning”. During the workweek you always see folks who seem to be there to show off for each other like some bower bird mating ritual but on Sunday it’s just those of us who run for ourselves. I ended my eight miles (which I would have been happy to stretch even further) by bounding up the stairs to Congress Ave two at a time, just me, my breath, and swinging arms to give me that added umph.
After a bit of post-running r&r I pulled out my camping propane stove to roast red peppers in my apartment. Camping stoves are cool regardless of the situation, but try balancing three red peppers on one in an apartment in the middle of the city and challenge yourself not to smile. That’s got to be damn near impossible. Soon my place smelled like a real kitchen and I spent an hour or so coaxing a few ingredients into becoming a creamy roasted red pepper risotto. It was my first time to attempt risotto, so I was pretty careful about sticking close to the recipe but couldn’t resist throwing in some sherry to round it out and to transport myself to Gran’s kitchen in Childswickham where a touch more brandy, wine, or sherry seems to enhance every dish.
Not having anyone to answer to and my appointment with bubbles hours away I lazed around napping and chatted on the phone with Angela.
Bubbles time! Yup, I’d made myself an appointment for a scuba refresher course. I fully believe in scent being the most powerful link to memory because as soon as I walked in the dive shop I felt like I was in 5th grade again running around Diver’s Depot after school, picking out anklets, eating junk food by the pool, swimming, talking about boys... I made it through dive tables and such without much problem, and then got to get back in the water. It’s been about 10 years since I’ve been diving. When did time start moving so quickly and how could I have lost so much time that I could have been underwater? I knew the course was a great use of time, when the instructor needed to grab some stuff and told me just to hang out and blow bubbles, how great of an assignment is that?! We whizzed through clearing mask, retrieving regulator, removing bcd & weight belt, buddy breathing, emergency ascent, and it all came back so easily. Finally when we’d finished running the drills he said I could go, but I didn’t think I should be penalized for being a good student so I asked if I could just play around in the pool until my time was up. I got to spend the rest of the time throwing an underwater football, blowing bubble rings, and my personal favorite just floating upside down to get a different perspective on the world. I left the dive shop with an oh-so-sexy mask mark on my forehead, blood shot eyes (man they’d gone overboard on the chlorine), chemically overloaded hair, and a huge relaxed grin.
Then it was off to lay out on a pic-nic blanket in Zilker Park with friends and let my self get lulled into the rhythm of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. A friend summed it up, “Sunday night is a reason why Austin is such an incredible place to live… a warm night, Shakespeare, plus great food & company!” There really is something fulfilling about sharing things you love with other people. I’m a pretty independent person and would have been content enjoying the weather, play, and risotto by myself…but to be able to share it with others who might have otherwise just taken care of grown-up errands or watched tv on their Sunday night is indescribable. Sharing food and laughter has got to be one of the keys to happiness.
See what happens when you take control? And, who could ask for anything more?
To say the past month has been a challenge would be an understatement. Back to back weeks of overtime, finding out Grandpa has advanced cancer, Gran going into hospital, Laura undergoing yet another treatment in the hopes that one of these days something will work, pulling back/neck muscles, not being able to play tennis/do yoga/load my bike onto my car, postponing the trip to Kilimanjaro…I’ve felt a little drained.
So I said enough. Enough of feeling the weight on my shoulders, what I need are bubbles...lots and lots of bubbles, and let’s throw in some weightlessness for good measure. So on Sunday I woke up, got out of bed, drug a comb across my head, bum, bum (man I’m easily side tracked these days).
Anyway…I woke up with the sun, put on my new running shoes, and went for a long jog around the lake. There’s something extra special about Sunday morning jogs around Lady Bird Lake. It’s so quiet, and the only other folks out and about are other long distance runners who respectfully acknowledge each other in passing, always with a smile and often a friendly “good morning”. During the workweek you always see folks who seem to be there to show off for each other like some bower bird mating ritual but on Sunday it’s just those of us who run for ourselves. I ended my eight miles (which I would have been happy to stretch even further) by bounding up the stairs to Congress Ave two at a time, just me, my breath, and swinging arms to give me that added umph.
After a bit of post-running r&r I pulled out my camping propane stove to roast red peppers in my apartment. Camping stoves are cool regardless of the situation, but try balancing three red peppers on one in an apartment in the middle of the city and challenge yourself not to smile. That’s got to be damn near impossible. Soon my place smelled like a real kitchen and I spent an hour or so coaxing a few ingredients into becoming a creamy roasted red pepper risotto. It was my first time to attempt risotto, so I was pretty careful about sticking close to the recipe but couldn’t resist throwing in some sherry to round it out and to transport myself to Gran’s kitchen in Childswickham where a touch more brandy, wine, or sherry seems to enhance every dish.
Not having anyone to answer to and my appointment with bubbles hours away I lazed around napping and chatted on the phone with Angela.
Bubbles time! Yup, I’d made myself an appointment for a scuba refresher course. I fully believe in scent being the most powerful link to memory because as soon as I walked in the dive shop I felt like I was in 5th grade again running around Diver’s Depot after school, picking out anklets, eating junk food by the pool, swimming, talking about boys... I made it through dive tables and such without much problem, and then got to get back in the water. It’s been about 10 years since I’ve been diving. When did time start moving so quickly and how could I have lost so much time that I could have been underwater? I knew the course was a great use of time, when the instructor needed to grab some stuff and told me just to hang out and blow bubbles, how great of an assignment is that?! We whizzed through clearing mask, retrieving regulator, removing bcd & weight belt, buddy breathing, emergency ascent, and it all came back so easily. Finally when we’d finished running the drills he said I could go, but I didn’t think I should be penalized for being a good student so I asked if I could just play around in the pool until my time was up. I got to spend the rest of the time throwing an underwater football, blowing bubble rings, and my personal favorite just floating upside down to get a different perspective on the world. I left the dive shop with an oh-so-sexy mask mark on my forehead, blood shot eyes (man they’d gone overboard on the chlorine), chemically overloaded hair, and a huge relaxed grin.
Then it was off to lay out on a pic-nic blanket in Zilker Park with friends and let my self get lulled into the rhythm of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. A friend summed it up, “Sunday night is a reason why Austin is such an incredible place to live… a warm night, Shakespeare, plus great food & company!” There really is something fulfilling about sharing things you love with other people. I’m a pretty independent person and would have been content enjoying the weather, play, and risotto by myself…but to be able to share it with others who might have otherwise just taken care of grown-up errands or watched tv on their Sunday night is indescribable. Sharing food and laughter has got to be one of the keys to happiness.
See what happens when you take control? And, who could ask for anything more?
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