{Imaginary} Sunday Tea

 Cozy Up!
Cozy Up!

So…

Welcome to my weekly segment: Imaginary Tea on Sunday.

This Sunday slot is reserved for my observation on something that happened online and usually will be brief and “light”.

These posts will either have a video,music or alternative “visual” inspiration from elsewhere on the internet and not my own head.

First post coming up shortly.

Over and Out!

Surviving Marriage with a Chance of a Happy Ending

 

 Love!
Love!

 

So…

The part of the world I am from family is a big deal and I mean knowing your cousin’s cousins and their neighbour’s nephews, which wouldn’t be a problem if there weren’t so many siblings to begin with. For example, my Dad is the middle child of five children and my Mum is the eldest of eight, most of their siblings married at least once and had children… I tried to make a family tree when I was about twelve but ran out of motivation when I realised I didn’t actually know as many members of my family as I thought I did and asking my grandmother for information filled me with fear.

I am 28 years old, not married and don’t have any children. My parents line has no fresh blood in it and my Dad is getting antsy for some young ‘uns to fold into the Muchindu fabric. Being the oldest child alive it is up to me set an example (not sure I want or need to be setting examples on making babies but let’s not dwell on that). My older sister died a few years ago without any children of her own. None of my younger siblings have children and aren’t rushing towards the altar.

During my last visit to my parents farm, the subject of marriage came up (as it is prone to when your parents think you are wilting your eggs on purpose to spurn them their rightfully earned joy), and I got to really thinking about what marriage means for me. I know what I would like it to be: a partnership, a team moving in one direction towards a common goal (whatever that is, is up to the two people in the relationship because people get married for different reasons and it isn’t our place to judge them, even though judgements are a reflex reaction and will happen anyway). But I digress… Very rarely do I see examples of couples getting married because they are on the same page on what they want out of their future together. Sidenote: I attended a lovely wedding this past weekend with a bride who actually cried with joy and I have never seen that before but the couple seemed united before the wedding day and the wedding day itself didnt seem like the end of grueling planning but rather a beginning of a life together which is what I think weddings should be.I would like to wish them a long and full life ahead together.

Marriage usually happens because it is “the right time” more often than not. Either through a child that wasn’t entirely planned or the couple have been dating so long they may as well be married and decide to officiate it. Both of those scenarios don’t often have happy endings.

I realise my definition isnt romantic and makes marriage sound like work but the truth is, it is, work. It is work you choose to get into with a tag team partner you will be “stuck with” for the rest of your life, and sadly we are so focused on the wedding day we forget about what happens afterwards.  The problem with that is on a balance of equations there are too many unhappily married people giving the institution of marriage a terrible name. Random question of the day: Why do women in the movies when proposed to not react until they have seen the ring? There is rarely any evidence that the poor fellow proposing gets on his knees (in public) yet there will be zero “joy” till that box opens or is produced.

One day, I hope to get married and build plans around and with another person (as different as his opinions of those plans sometimes are), I believe in the weight of vows and the promise of eternal fidelity but its become almost “too easy” to leave a marriage than to work at making it what you want it to be.What I disagree with is the expectation that who I am needs to change because I am now a wife. I fight with that idea very strongly. Pretending to be something else shouldn’t happen with your life partner because they have more of you than anyone else. Its easy to pretend with parents because you need to keep them proud of you, or with your siblings because you want them happy or with colleagues because you dont want to get fired but with the person you want to spend forever with? Everyone else has a shift schedule with you, they really don’t.

I hate confrontation and will avoid it like its an STD infested keyboard (let that fester a minute) but when you share your life with someone, confrontation is bound to happen. Apparently, the trick is not to let it evolve into something else. Let the conversation about discarded socks in the kitchen floor be about that and ONLY THAT not about his desire to spend less time with you or his new “odd” bedroom requests (although I can see how one thing could lead to the other). You need to “nip things in the bud”, is what I am constantly advised but sadly its easy to let little things slide, because why should you sweat the small stuff or worse, nag? Unfortunately, if you wait till patterns have developed, switching out of those patterns appears like a rejection of the person you are with.

What I hope to remember the day after my wedding is, I picked the person I am now waking up next to and as wonderful as he is most of the time, there will be moments I would prefer to club him on the back of his head than talk. That’s not a problem, it makes me normal, I should just talk to him about it and not actually club him, no matter how tempting that would be. Maybe that will be my chance of a happy ending, I will still be me, he will still be him and we will now just live together and make babies.

Over and Out!

Killing My Hang Ups

Gorgeous lady but not me
Simply Cyn captures my mood in this shot and looks GORGEOUS doing it

So…

When I started this blog, I had a schedule laid out of what I would post and how regularly I would put my overflowing ideas into the world and boy do I have ideas… If I could mine them I would be A LOT better off than I am now (because I am certain that they are valuable ideas… I may suffer from delusions of grandeur).

But then ‘Life’ got in the way (as it normally does when you are “playing” above your station), and then I started making excuses… many excuses. At first they were logical… then creative… “I can’t type right now because I am researching self publishing on amazon (by buying books)”, or “my hair is more important right now so I think I’ll embark on mini twists instead of getting another story down, besides it will allow me to think.”.

Truth is, I got scared. I put a blog out and it started getting some hits (more than three is some!), and there wasn’t any hate, a significant amount of spam but no hate, and people other than family and friends were starting to look at it. Enter Stage Fright. I was now publicly attempting to bring my dreams to life. This would mean I would now no longer have any excuse on why I wasn’t where I thought I should be. Bringing me to my hang ups… or rather the one major one.

But before that, I am not deluded to think everyone who reads what I write will like what they find, I want to be a writer but I need to do a lot of work because I am not dedicating enough time to my art and I should. This I know (“It is known”, hee hee). Its like having exams coming and not prepping but literally praying it will work out. If you don’t put in the work, how can you expect it to?

So, my major hang up. I would rather be an ace at something I hate doing than fail at something I want to be doing. This is a little crazy and counter intuitive because it leads to me cementing myself in things I don’t actually want to do. Like stay in a relationship longer than I should or study a course I didn’t really have any love for at the time (that did eventually change) and host of other oddities that I could have saved myself from that led me to being dissatisfied with what and who I am.

Failing at a desire seemed a lot less desirable than succeeding at a chore. Because you chose it as opposed to “dealing” with what was thrust upon you.

Which points out that my main fear is failure. I fear that I am ordinary. That I do not have nearly as much exposure to interesting things to make me interesting (because interesting is like a bug, you catch it and pass it along). That my life has been too comfortable to damage me into being great. I fear being mundane or *the horror*, forgettable. I want to be remembered. I want to be interesting. This in my mind would mean I matter (see above for possible delusions of grandeur).

So how do I get over my hangups and fears? I haven’t the foggiest idea. Late last year I felt the walls of boredom and inadequacy closing in so I decided I needed to make at least one dream come true. “See Japan. No excuses”. I had been thinking about it for years and every time I saved enough money something “practical” came up and it would be gone, plus I never could get enough time off work. But I got a crazy buzzing in my head that I was running out of time. I spoke to a friend and she decided to join me in my mad quest and we somehow planned a two week trip to a country we had never been to and didn’t speak the language of. And it was WONDERFUL. I would gladly go back for another trip if only to sit on benches and watch people. So next time I get a crazy desire to travel, may it be summer!

The way I am hoping to get rid of my hang ups is to voice them and then bludgeon them. It seems to be the only way. Simply refuse to be mundane and don’t forget.

This is not a particularly helpful article if you were looking for a how to but its my story. Maybe it will help you. Make one dream happen (at a time). Even if it is something as simple as saving a certain amount of money between now and the end of the year, growing a certain plant or smiling more. Its your dream. Stop with the excuses.

Bludgeon the hang ups.

Over and Out!

 

Love and Doing Nothing

sisters

So…

I live with two of my sisters and I love them dearly. I am trying to figure out the best way to describe them but the only thing that comes to mind is if we were a litter of puppies, we’d all be the runt. Which defeats the purpose of a runt like description… we’re all round pegs trying to force our way into square holes. I have a brother too but seeing as he’s the wrong kind of peg for this story I need to omit him for the time being, don’t worry brother. I’ll have a post up just for you!

We suffer through each others joys, groaning on the inside because we know the value of spending time together. For example, the youngest and myself LOVE Asian pop, the middle one groans every time we squeal about a new video (right now I cant wait to share EXO’s “Wolf” video, if you haven’t seen it and Kpop is your thing, check it out). The youngest loves soppy romantic stories and vampires. The middle one and myself groan through such movies, while the youngest and I lament every time the middle one gets excited about a new fitness regime or extremely loud pants… seriously, if she could, you would HEAR her pants, but I digress (and I am not always the most common denominator).

You can “easily” lavish money on people but time, that’s a different playing field and even if the time is so miserable all you want to do is bash each other’s heads in, it still trumps not spending time together. Well, for me anyway, they may probably want to slink away but as the oldest I get commanding rights which they cannot escape {insert evil laugh}.

Its not always laughs and yoga poses in the kitchen though (that actually did happen). I have (once or twice) pretended to be asleep just so I can have a few moments of peace or pretended not to hear a call so I can have some quiet. This does not mean I love them any less but we’re not the same kind of round and sometimes that means we each need our own times and methods of re-booting.

The point of this ramble is basically to remind them and anyone reading this that simply “buying” something isn’t always enough, you need to “know” the person you live or just deal with. We are always so busy “proving” our affections with things that we don’t share ourselves. I am not a mother yet but I remember hating having to share my bedroom with my sisters. My parents forced us to share not only our bedroom but communal time as well. All I wanted was my own space, and because I am a selfish human being I still do on occasion, but being forced to smell each others morning breath and argue over underwear space I know their cries even when they aren’t being vocal about it and I also know when I am the wrong person to address their problems but knowing that you aren’t the right person doesn’t mean “do nothing”. It means find a way to help that doesn’t involve your own hand making movements, it means finding a voice to say the things you wish your voice could, it means pointing them in a direction that may be the complete opposite of yours. Love is never doing nothing, love is never being OK with a state less than contentment.

Do something.

 

Always.

 

Over and Out!

Memory Lane isn’t Yellow Brick

{Memory Lane isn’t Yellow Brick by Claudie Muchindu}

So…

I recently had a conversation with my mum over love of stories in general (I told her I was reading A Song of Ice and Fire and she refused to see the enjoyment in reading “the same story” that spans seven books).  I asked when I started to read, she said “early”. When I was five, apparently I was happiest with a book on my lap figuring out the world that lay in front of me tucked within crisp pages, she said we’d share books together sometimes. I have no recollection of this though. I don’t have many childhood memories and not because of any trauma (unless I have forgotten that too), I just don’t remember any strong emotions and that’s what makes a story live. For me anyway.

Some memories I do have though are of lying. In fact I may have led myself to believe I was some kind of demon child because my lying knew no bounds and people seemed to believe me, no matter how grand said lies were. For example: I have some scars on my back from a wonky infection (that story shall be told on another day), and when one girl at a new school asked me about it (we must have been in grade four or five), I told her it was where kidnappers had hidden emeralds in my back when they held me hostage. Her eyes bulged as I narrated this horror story to her and I have no idea if she believed me or not but we became fast friends, until as most girls do, we grew apart and in different directions. The point is I knew very early on that I could weave a tale that caught other people. I knew that telling stories was what I wanted to do with my life when I discovered that other people had “real” stories that I could re-tell and adapt, I was in heaven. While other girls played with dolls I perched in trees and dreamed of far off lands with warrior princesses and talking animals.

Unfortunately real life got in the way and being a writer just wasn’t practical in my environment so I shelved my ambitions and pursued an economics degree because “you can do anything with it” and eventually got a “proper” job that helped finance the last stages of my degree. I was decent enough to get a few promotions but while my head was entirely dedicated, my heart just wasn’t, still isnt. I had dabbled with the idea of teaching, but wasn’t sure I had enough patience to be a good one and I needed to be good at whatever I was doing. Its not enough to just “do”, you know? Then I thought maybe a psychologist because you can “what if” the hell out of other people issues but dropped that because I didn’t think I’d be able to separate their problems from my own. Studying languages also wasn’t feasible because there was no “career path” and I was “talented” in math so it was considered a “waste” to pursue words, especially when you couldn’t find a job in them. I still dreamed of seeing my name on covers and I have spent an obscene amount of money on new books so I can smell the new pages as I dive into new worlds.

This brings us to what this blog is all about. This is my little patch to showcase my work. I dabble in poetry, short stories and various opinions I may have. I am not genre specific, I am after stories that have some kind of journey and evoke some kind of emotion. My attempt at a novel sits obstinately in a corner and snarls and pouts in alternative measures when I approach. Not entirely certain when I shall tame that beast but in the meantime I am simply seeking the joy in stories, mine and those I find trawling the web.

Over and Out!

It’s Alive!

Hello World!

My name is mwiings and I claim this patch of the interwebs as my own.

As dramatic as that sounds (in my head), I thought I would hear epic angelic music and harpstrings but all I hear is the thrum of my fingernails hitting the desk as I wonder “WHAT HAVE I DONE?”.

So world, I am here and I look forward to a long, “wordy” future.

Over and Out!