A Stream of Consciousness

There’s always a time limit on everything.

Gone are those days when I could spend hours sitting in my room doing anything I like without worrying about where’s the food coming from, is it the day to wash my laundry, who is going to clean the house, wash the dishes, or who’s going to clean the cat’s litter box.

Grown ups need to deal with a lot of things. In a few hours that I get for myself, I need to think of making the most of my time by doing something that I absolutely enjoy.

The problem here is that I enjoy doing a lot of things. In one hour, how am I supposed to write, sketch, listen to music, learn a language, or do a course in interior design? When I finally decide what I will be doing or when I am just about to get into that mood to write the story of my life, time’s over. Or oh, last one, I mindlessly spend time doing nothing, totally waste my precious hour, alas time’s up!

It’s either time to go for a walk or time to cook or time to spend time with your partner, or time to study, basically it’s time to get up and do the household chores which do not come under the “me time” category.

The thing is we all put ourselves under unnecessary pressure to be over productive, I don’t know why I do this to myself, why we all do this to ourselves but I guess it helps us to keep going. If there’s no pressure then I will never feel the need to perform.
So, probably pressure is good at times.
Who knows.
My time is up, need to stop writing and attend to other obligations.

Let’s Just Be

Let’s sit somewhere idly and watch the world go by. Let’s wave at the little school girl across the street. Let’s not look at the scary smoking guy wearing an old torn pair of jeans. Let’s smile at the dog near our feet. Let’s point fingers at the tall skyscrapers and at the plants in their balconies. Let’s look up at the sky as a flock of birds return to their home in the trees. Let’s talk about the weather and the chilly evening breeze. Let’s just sit together. Holding hands. Doing absolutely nothing.

What Do the Trees Say?

What would happen if the trees in a forest got into a conversation?
What do you think they would talk about?
Would they compare their heights?
The lusciousness and colors of their leaves..
Talk about the texture of their bark?
Would they discuss in lengthy sways about the weather and the winds?
How hot the summer would be this year..
How the previous winter dried the very roots and shoots of their being,
Almost a near death experience!
When it rains would they get romantic,
Secretly extending their roots to hold hands underneath the soil?
Will one tree get jealous by the blooming blossoms of another?
Or upset that the birds always flock to that one cool tree?
Will they discuss who’s the new kid around the woody block?
On a full moon night would they share stories,
Of how they grew in the shade of their father –
From a little sapling to a mighty tree?
Do they get annoyed with the travelling band of monkeys,
Who seem to tickle them as they go swinging by?
Do they wonder about the creatures of the forest,
Of their quick and meaningless lives?
Do they smile at each other, shake hands, or nod heads?
So, what do you wonder my wondrous trees?
Wish I could sit down and listen to you speak.

In my closet I hide,
Lock the door tight.
Sit down on the carpeted floor,
Holding a pencil to write.
The walls cold as ice,
On this snowy night,
Sneer down upon me.
As I lower my head and close my eyes.
I hum a song to ease the restless mind,
It’s time to get to work tonight.

Women Will Be Women

I am a woman, I am not really sure what to say. I have had ups and downs in my life, I have been asked to sacrifice. Sometimes I do it willing, sometimes forcefully.

I have not been allowed to wear clothes of my choice, I have been asked to dress appropriately for my safety, I obliged. Well, yes I am not physically strong, I cannot fight a gang of morons. So, I covered up and walked with my head down because who wants to be an object of illicit desire.

Growing up, I have been asked to dress well, wear make-up, act like a girl and look pretty to meet the standards of beauty, set by whom? I still wonder. I don’t want my skin to glitter and shine, I want to be in my PJs and read books of my choice.

I care for myself I know how things work in the male-dominated work places. I have a voice which is sometimes heard and often times ignored. But, I am not lame to scream and shout, I am wise I will find better ways to get things done the way I want.

I have been asked to come home early no later than 7 PM because the night is dark and full of terrors. Hungry men lurking around dark alleys ready to pounce on a girl who’s alone, who may or may not be dressed provocatively. I have heard stories, watched the news, I am scared too and so I do as I am asked to do.

Some women ask me, “Do you know how to cook? How will you feed your man?” When I replied no, they laughed at me, so I laughed too. I did learn cooking though, to feed myself and the ones in need. Nobody told me how rewarding and therapeutic cooking could be.

When men made their moves on me and I did not jive to their vibe, they called me names. But, it did not affect me as I knew already that they could never respect my standards and boundaries.

I am in my 30s, I am asked when I am having babies? I understand you are curious and these are questions for my well-being, but reproduction is not a role that every woman needs to play. In a world that’s populated and polluted by human beings, do we really need more babies?

There are some things that sometimes women need to do. Not because somebody has asked us to, but because we are smart enough to understand how the world works.
Sometimes the messages passed on to women are wrong. We have not been treated equally, but we know the right from wrong.
We are patient, we are relentless, we are fighters, we are strong. Living through life like everyone else, we do not ask for more or less, because we know that we are the best.