last words

Without any doubt, my heart is yours.

Without a question of why..my commitment has been to you. When I understood that I loved you, I understood that I would fight for you. I would honour, I would cherish you.

I understood it would never be perfect, life doesn't afford us such favours…but I knew what I had found was a friend, a complement to myself, a source of strength and support, and a source I would be the same to.

My joy has been in loving you. In helping you, in being the one who held your hand, rubbed your shoulder and said it will be alright.

I’ve seen you grow. I’ve watched you blossom from someone struggling to understand his prupose, to someone who sets his goals and reaches out to them, who goes after his dreams and builds, who can control his life.

Our time together has been special. I have been blessed with laughter, with joy, happiness and strength..and I thank you for being with me, and sharing in my pleasures.

Without a doubt, I question what the best path for me to follow. I question it, yet I know.

I know that this heart I have opened up, I have given to you unreservedly, needs to be taken care of. I know that this spirit I have shared with you, needs to be healed. I know that although I still long for you, and long to love you, I cannot be loved by you. I know that I need to be loved in more than a word. I need to be loved in action.

I have respected the person you were, the person you became. I cannot hurt you. Yet I fear this life we have made for ourselves is bound to keep hurting.

I have honoured you and given of myself more than I would have thought possible. Yet, it has not been enough. It has not been what you need.

I hope, with all the love than remains in me, that you find happiness.
That you find a love which fills you, builds you and gives you strength to fly.

I deserve to find that person who can love me in such a way..promise to care for me, to support me, to honour and respect me.

I have faith that I will be led to a place of peace, of fulfilment. I pray that you will find the same.

Love,
Me

on the mixed race thing

I never gave much thought to being mixed race. Infact, I’ve always just considered myself to be ‘Caribbean’, or just quite plainly ‘Black’. Maybe a simplistic view I know..but then my mixed ethnicity hasn't been much of an issue while growing up.

A very good friend and I had a discussion along the bi racial lines quite unintentionally, a few weeks ago. He has a mixed race daughter, and feels so strongly about the tradition of labelling anyone who has a ‘drop’ of black in their ethnicity, as being black. He pointed out that a cup of coffee with milk added isn't still a black coffee, or if mixing red and white paint…which colour would you label the end result as; white or red? Similarly, it can’t work that way with people. I wasn’t too sure how to respond to that. I was a bit guilty of the conditioning which he was trying to flame.

There has never been a need for me to ‘identify’ with one race or another. My heritage is such a rich one; I wouldn’t know where to start. I’m mixed white/west Indian/black. Just about a typical Caribbean mix. As children, my sister and I were always the ones with ‘nice’ (meaning light brown) skin, and ‘nice’ (meaning long curly) hair. I made friends quickly; I had all the girls wanting to play with me, and the boys wanting my attention. Still, I attributed it to being pretty (and a very nice person *wink*), and not race. Because quite obviously I was black – I was growing up in a predominantly black country.

I only became acutely aware of the mixed race discussion when I first travelled to London a few years back, and again, it’s still evident now. When people ask, ‘what are you?’… ‘black’, no longer seemed sufficient. Black girls/guys here aren’t exactly fighting over themselves to embrace me as one of their own, and I’ve given up on the Indians (known here as Asians) welcoming me with open arms (afterall I am West Indian – not East Indian, and don’t look anything like them)– infact my experiences with them have been along the lines of racial rebuff. So in the end...I’m not quite black enough, and not quite anything-else enough.

What of being mixed race is so controversial? Where I come from, the age-old proclivity of being drawn to lighter skinned people or those with straighter longer hair still exists. There is still evidence of whites being regarded as superior. Up until a few years ago, some companies - mostly banks- would noticeable employ only lighter skinned people.

I’ve seen it with my parents, I’ve seen it with many people in their generation. It has something to do with them being raised by parents, who were direct descendants of slaves. And so that conditioning of the white man being ‘massa’ and superior (although subconscious- no one would ever admit that they think it) is one which remains. Good to know that with each new generation it’s something which is slowly being overwritten by the acceptance that we are all created equal.

Inequality, superiority as labelled by race are notions of the past- in these current times, what makes a man is his character.

Is that the reality though?
It’s quite obvious that the race issue is one which is being debated with increased popularity. A quick search on ‘mixed race’, ‘bi racial’ will bring up loads of articles and now even more popular, dedicated blogs on the subject. The high profile entry of Obama to the world stage seems to have raised the ‘yess!! One of ours!’ flags all round.

The common feeling about being mixed race seems to be the identity aspect of it. ‘Where do I fit in?’ In sometimes racially divisive communities, am I Black, White, Chinese? Who, apart from my parents, will embrace me as their own. People experience, as I have, a feeling of displacement.

When I think like this, I immediately feel a bit foolish and quickly put an end to it. To begin with, I’m not even sure that identifying myself as being ‘mixed race’ is legitimate…back home, I’m just another form of black…and here, I’m just the girl with curly hair. I’ve been (all but) told by an east European friend to get over myself – nobody looks at skin colour, she said. Nobody judges based on that.

Then why do I feel that it is a bit of an issue. And why do I feel that it somehow impedes my efforts of ‘integrating’ and fitting in, in this place.

Having said that, I never fail to remind myself that I am my own. That we belong to ourselves and should hold true to ourselves and embrace that we are each so individual and beautiful. This debate will someday end, and when we look out into the world, all the colours before us will add to the significance and enjoyment as we pass through life.

getting a foot in..

cont'd from previous post..

In reading profiles of some 'powerful women' (according to a few business magazines)...I decided to dig a bit more into Dina Powell, well..just surface digging actually...which turned up a profile of hers on a business networking site. I took a chance, and sent her an email.. never imagining that she would actually read it (sometimes PA's do that sort of thing right? and do away with the 'trash')..

She read it..
Not only that, she forwarded it someone within Goldman Sachs, who emailed me..inviting me to send in my CV to him..and he'd be happy to answer all my questions...

??..the shock of it?..yeah.. I was blown away.. I headed right back to some more articles on Ms. Powell.. and sure enough, was blown away further...I now have a better idea of the person who actually read, and passed on an odd email, from a nobody student..

She is the former Assistant Secretary of State for Educational and Cultural Affairs in the United States governament. She was Assistant to the President for Presidential Personnel...among her list of achievments

Got that?...I sent an email, to someone who rubbed shoulders with the President, Condoleeza Rice and influential people of all sorts. She's now the "Managing Director and Global Head, Office of Corporate Engagement The Goldman Sachs Group, Inc."
..and she read it
..and passed it on
..and someone responded to it

And now I'm about to start playing the game of 'getting a foot in'..or at least try..

Update:
I didn't get a foot in :(
But I did get a good rush from thinking I would :)

but I digress..alot

I'm preparing for an interview today with River Island. Two things about this;

a) I've already gotten a job offer from Monsoon, but I'm a bit disgruntled since they refused to let me start until I have my school schedule so they know whether it's going to work for them or not (umm..yeah, it's the most sensible thing a business could do..but I'm within my rights to be privately disgruntled regardless), and

b) I don't really want to be in retail (it's a sales assistant position), I'd much rather be doing something in finance, which contributes to what I want to do after uni (more on that later)..but people aren't really hiring part time for those sorts of jobs. Soooo...my choice to stick it out in retail is purely for the discount. Yep..staff discount..cuz I'm no longer in denial..I'm now comfortable to admit I LOVE TO SHOP!

That's right..I'm one of 'those' women who may not walk past a pretty store window, without going in to have a peek. Seeing as I'm often constrained by The Student Budget...it hardly goes beyond a peek. And so, I fully blame my current financial situation, for my stunted fashion development (no, it's not my lack of creativity, or lack of following the 'in' things, or even remembering the 'latest trends'- except that they're always in your face).

Blah..this tea is horrible

So back to my interview. With such short notice..I got the call last night, and interview is today..I'm certain I have nothing appropriate to wear. I know I put alot about their fashion being edgy and fresh, yada yada on my app..so more than likely, I’m expected to look the same...yikes. But that's small fries anyway..

The Big thing that happened to me yesterday was..I somehow decided that I want to work in finance- Investment Banking..the Corporate world..all that demand and discipline and power and well..power that comes with it. I'm not talking about sitting at a desk shuffling through excel spreadsheets all day..that's where we all start.. but I’m talking about the big guys..Dina Powell, Amy Woods Brinkley, Lisa Caputo. I'm talking about the impossible stuff..what you only dream about, and never achieve...that's what i'm aiming at (to achieve it ofcourse!).

As usual with me..when I hit on an idea, or get started with something, I get passionate, excited..a bit obssessed. I've always had a 'feeling' about Goldman Sachs.

Years ago, I stumbled on their website while looking for good examples of business mission statements..and they appealed to me, somehow i've kept going back to their website just to browse...even when I only dreamed of heading in that direction..when I had practically accepted that my life was going to follow a familiar path: get my degree, head back home, start up a business or keep working at the business my ex-partner and I had already started. But yesterday, when I had my sudden epiphany..I thought.. Goldman Sachs..why the hell not.

Yes it's competitive and practically impossible to get in to...

Yes top grades are a major plus/requirement (and my 1st year grades although indicating a 2:1, I still consider to be shite. I sense a digression coming on..)

...1st year I prepared not-at-all for exams..seeing as I was going through that drama period in my life, the worst yet most strengthening experience thus far;

a) excitedly planning my wedding for june 2008,

b) finding out in march 2008 that my fiance (first boyfriend and only partner for 8 years..since I was 18) was having an affair,

c) having to cope with losing my mind..on my own, with no family, no friends (i'm in London on my own, all family is..are? back 'home'),

d) having to come to grips with the new reality that...all I had worked for, and built for the past 8 years had suddenly evaporated..the business I built with him, the property we purchased to build our home, dreams of our first Christmas as a 'family', the rest of my wonderful life (fraught with the usual problems of a relationship- bring em on), promise of sitting on rocking chairs in our old age having a scotch and feeling content with all we had accomplished..all vanished

e) having to call off my wedding - cancel my beeeeeautiful Pronovias wedding dress, throw all ready-for-dispatch, partly-DIY invitations in the trash, cancel perfectly co-ordinated bridesmaids dresses...you get the idea,

f) having to consider preparing for exams when all I could think was my heart has been shattered into a million pieces and I may not survive the next few days,

g) having to sit exams after being malnourished (yea, I stopped eating), unfocused, and unprepared.

But I digress..

Back to Goldman Sachs... should this be two posts..?

the curls got me

I'm on a budget..the tightest one possible - The Student Budget.

You know..the kind that lets you know you're broke, but then everyone else thinks you're the richest around. I don't know..i've heard it said many times before..'students are the richest around'...maybe just a phrase where I grew up?

While walking through the mall a few days ago..I was stopped by a girl working at a kiosk..I swear, I never ever stop at kiosks..those ubiquitous ones that look like they sprung up overnight, and might disappear just as quickly..with dodgy looking sales reps..hmm

What caught my attention was her hair.. the curls were very similar to mine, but longer..much much longer.. like how my hair might have been if I would only stop chopping it. She must have seen my slight look of interest as I tried to rush past, my eyes suddenly downcast.
These girls are good.

She picked up on my vulnerability immediately. And by vulnerability, any curly haired girl would know what I mean...I'm going through that phase these days.. You know.. the one where I can't figure out what my hair wants..

So she drew me in..with the hair..she said, I promise you, you will thank me. Sat me down..did a demonstration. In five minutes, my normally stubborn curls were perfectly defined, bouncy..just perfect. I was sold.

I knew I couldn't afford it. I knew that I should be saving that money for a new winter coat... or for those new boots I don't need, but want..

I bought my new hair curler, alot more expensive than I should have..to define my natural curls..beautiful as they may be..they could do with some coaxing on stubborn days..

Less than two hours later..I realised my mistake..oh the shame of it.. and the scam! My 'curls' were now ironed, faux maybe-curls-maybe-straight, gone with the wind, now completely unsure of what they were meant to be.
I headed straight back to the counter, with my hair now in a bun...it was that bad.

I was refused a refund. Can you believe it.

My broke, student status..suddenly more dire than it seemed while I was happy with my purchase...was now a matter of survive or starve (I can be that dramatic)..

Anyway..it didn't play out as a return normally would with little fuss, no stress. I'm in a limbo right now..speaking with a US company who sells the product, because the kiosk where I bought it assures me that's who I need to contact...and UK consumer affairs people, informing me of my rights in this matter.. because at the moment, they're all denying responsibility for refunding me..

How do I end up in these messes..
I'll tell you..impromptu purchases..not sticking to the well planned student budget...or in this case stopping at a dodgy fly-by-night kiosk

life is not about finding yourself

...it's about creating yourself

Boy am I having a hell of a time creating me.

I had this great idea for a very philosophical attempt at blogging about that quote "life is not about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself". Ofcourse, now i'm blank.

I'm suffering from a serious case of the 'shut-in'. I spend all my time, by myself. This should somehow help in the whole finding myself journey right? All this time spent, indoors, reflecting on why i've made certain decisions, why i've ended up here. Why i've had a decidedly shite year. But I come up somewhat empty.

I actually enjoy spending time by myself. During my teens, my only sibling left to study abroad. After that, I found myself learning to enjoy being with me. I spent loads of time on the internet, reading, taking drives to the beach with my dog. Had very philosophical moments with my friends, seeing as that time coincided with my first experiences with marijuana...you know what happens.

But anyway, I fail to answer all those questions of why why why. And in truth, it seems to be bordering on the obsessive, or on my reliving the past. A shite year so far, maybe I need to focus on having a brilliant rest of the year.

I'm a procrastinator. I leave things until the last minute, current offenders:
- my visa extension, which I should have been working on from the start of summer,
- revision of last year's accounting course - my memory is shite, and i've forgotten everything..everything..good grief don't ask about financial or management accounting..umm what is that?
- replacing that oversized three-legged table which is taking up most of the space in my tiny studio. Hey, in my defense, i've already ordered a work desk..right in time for the new semester..waiting on it to get delivered now.
-figuring out what I want to do with my life. This one is by far the worst, and recurring. I've gotten to the point where I get nervous thinking about it. What now what now what now! I'm nearing 30 dammit.

Right! So i'm trying to establish the best ways of 'integrating'. Making friends, being more approachable, having the faintest idea of how to hold a conversation with a stranger. It's like I was never properly socialised! which is a lie ofcourse...I used to be the life of a room, the funniest person around, I used to enjoy meeting and being around people. That changed somehow...I changed, during this relationship. I became more settled, and more comfortable being the other person's half, that I forgot me. And so, thrown back into the real world now...i'm having to readjust to 8 years of bad habits, being the other half.

Back to integrating.. my latest attempt. I've applied to volunteer in a youth program..to become an EYE, Envision Youth Educator. It's a bold step for me..i'm going to be working with 16-19 yr olds, a very intimidating group. I'm also considering salsa..thats right..dancing..i've never done salsa before..so again, another bold move. I've also, sort of, showed interest in volunteering with the International Student Society at my uni. I have a few more thoughts running through my head..I just have to be careful that i'm not stretched too thin (yah). The idea is to get me out of my comfort zone..

ehem
I promised myself i'd write, and not review..not stop to make sure everything was phrased perfectly..not even to make sure that there's a flow in my thoughts..
I know there isn't!..i started with a quote about creating my life..and i've finished..hmm.. not even sure with what..

dear bonny

I love you. I'm sure of it. Serene twisted and you grow toward the sky, yes. Don't stay the same. You have forced me to care for you.

A dear old friend, determined to 'fix' me has bought me a Bonsai. To replace my unfortunate previous bit of greenery who succumbed to water deprivation- leaving a plant unattended for 2 months (unplanned) can do that.

In true testament to my real life..we died together.

Bonny I call you. And a symbol of very good things to come. He adorns my window and transforms the dreary sky to something more spiritual. We accompany eachother now.

Sad, maybe, but after the year I've had. It's great.

Small steps people.

the story of our love

I came across this beautiful piece in the Times a few months back. I cried when I read in the cafe. It's the thoughts and love of André Gorz, a French philosopher, who committed suicide with his beloved wife Dorine, before she succumbed to cancer.

There isn't much to be said. I can't think of many things that have compelled me, as this piece did when I read. I wonder, does love exist like this anymore. Do we still give so much of ourselves for each other. I pinned up a clipping to a board in my room as a reminder that there is still beauty to be found..this is what I'm after.

"I have to record the story of our love piece by piece to appreciate its full meaning. It’s allowed us to become who we are now, living side by side and only for each other. I’m writing this to you to try to understand my life, to understand our life together.

Our story began marvelously – love at first sight, more or less. The day we met, you were surrounded by three men trying to teach you poker. You had just arrived from England and the men, each of whom had just a basic grasp of English, were trying to impress you. When our eyes met, I thought, “I have absolutely no chance with her.”

I bumped into you a month later in the street . . . I ran to catch up with you. You were walking quickly. It had been snowing. Your hair was curly from the drizzle. Off the top of my head, I asked if you’d like to go dancing. “Sure, why not,” you said. That’s all. It was October 23, 1947 . . .

I took a photo of you from behind. You’re paddling at La Jolla beach. You are 52 years old. You’re wonderful. It’s one of my favourite pictures of you.

I gazed at that photo for a long time after we came home, when you told me that you thought you might have cancer. You had been thinking this even before we left for the United States, but hadn’t wanted to tell me. Why not? “If I must die,” you told me calmly, “I wanted to see California first.”

You’ve just turned 82. You’re still beautiful, graceful and desirable. We’ve been living together for 58 years now and I love you more than ever. I’ve recently fallen in love with you all over again, and I carry within me once more a gnawing emptiness that ceases only when your body is pressed up against mine.

I sometimes dream of a man, a figure on an empty road in a deserted landscape, walking behind a hearse. I am that man. It’s you the hearse is taking away. I don’t want to be there at your cremation; I don’t want to be handed an urn with your ashes. I hear the voice of Kathleen Ferrier singing “Die Welt ist leer, Ich will nicht
leben mehr”* and I awake.

I check to see if you’re breathing, my hand brushes over you. Neither of us wants to outlive the other. We always used to say that if, by some miracle, we were to have a second life, we’d like to spend it together. *The world is empty, I don’t want to live any more."

André Gorz
Translated by Francesca Steele