Me-dulation : (Me Modulation) 

I’m reinventing myself.

That’s what I said to myself on the day after my birthday.

New Year, New Me. Time to make some  changes. I’m reinventing myself.

As if I have any idea who I am,  to attempt to create a new version of myself that is different from original me.

I think I am not the same person I used to be.

That the me of today is not the same me that I was a few years ago. That too much has changed for me to go by the same name.

Sometimes. I feel that I am a different person on different days to different people and this is all a game of illusion.  

That I am not two sides of the same coin, but instead two different coins stuck together by soluble glue parading as one. That just a splash of water will reveal my facade.

Even if it takes the work of nail polish remover to expose my insides, will I pass? 

I stand on the highest rooftop on the highest mountain and shout as loud as I can for everyone who cares to hear.

I AM ME! I AM ME!

but

Who is this Me I claim to be? Is there a way to define who I am for even myself to understand and agree?  Is there a word, a sentence, a page, a book, a movie, that covers the expanse of my life description? 

Would I recognize it if I saw it?

Sometimes, I agree that I will never be the same person I used to be. That I have breathed in the dust of a silver jubilee and it has wrecked my insides forever unclean. I am not the child of my mother. I am not my brother’s little sister. I am not your friend. I am not the writer I used to be.

I am not me. 

And I accept this.

This acceptance even, may change me. 

We’ll see.

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For my daughter.

She is six and I have her seated on the floor between my legs as I try to tame her unruly curls into a braid suitable for school. She winces as I tug and I give her a book to read. To take her mind off the pain.

She is ten. Boys are mean and pull her hair. I am her best friend and her other best friend lives in Rio. They write long letters with pink gel pens and decorate them with a million stickers.

She is sitting on my bed trying on jewelry. At fourteen, boys are interesting and the books and movies have taught her everything she needs to know about life. I am still her best friend but I sense that it is changing.

She slams the door shut on her way out. She says she hates me and will never talk to me again. I sigh gently, she used to be my best friend. She has a boyfriend. He wears black all the time and holds her hand. I pray at night that it is all he holds. She is sixteen.

She is crying into my arms. I tell her heartbreak won’t kill her. That it will make her stronger. Teach her more about life. About herself. That it is good to cry. She Says she will never love again. I smile as I remember where my heart was at eighteen.

She has a fierce love for God. I am jealous of it sometimes and other times I am just so happy it hurts my cheeks. She reads all the time and she sends me funny voice notes at odd times of the day. She has a friend she wants me to meet. She tells me I will like him. I remind her that she promised me she will never love again. She laughs. She remembers. She is twenty-three.

She is the most beautiful woman in the world today. I am so proud. In the church, I whisper a prayer of thanks to God for the gift of my baby. She smiles at me as he walks her down the aisle. There are tears in her eyes. “I love you” is what I whisper to her when I hug her outside. She hugs me back tightly. I will miss her so much. Twenty-five is too young.

She calls me at 3 am. I am going to be a grandmother. I feel so old. She is excited. She can’t stop giggling. I put the phone on the table and go back to bed. Through the veil of sleep I can hear them at the other end of the phone. Making plans.

I pray for her every night. I pray that she is strong. I ask God to keep her safe. To help her be more than I could ever be. I talk to her all the time. She is no longer my baby.

I pray for her all the time.
She will always be my baby.

She gives me a card on her fiftieth birthday. In it there is an old photograph: I am sitting on a chair on the front porch. She is on the floor between my legs. There is a book lying open in front of her. She is half-turned looking up at me. I have a comb in my right hand. I am looking down at her.

We are laughing.

In Retrospect…

In retrospect, I was never a writer, really.

I just loved to see my words formed on paper. And sometimes I was good at it but not because I had any extraordinary talent, no.

I was good at it because I worked hard at it. Because I practiced. Just like everything else that I’m good at.

I realized pretty early in my life that I wasn’t good at school work. I never got any prizes, I was never in the top 10 or top 20 or anything.

But it was when I finished my second year of Uni that I finally realized why I wasn’t good in academics.

I was just too lazy.

 

I only worked hard at the things I was interested in like English and RME and Pre Tech.

And in SHS, Literature, CRS and History. Everything else was just compulsory.

So I just survived school, barely passing most of my courses.

 

Like coding… I did MIS because programming seemed like something interesting… and because I was coding constantly in my first two years in Ashesi, it was pretty easy for me to do.

Then I had a whole summer break without coding and I got rusty at it. Now it’s not so much fun anymore. L

 

Okay so back to me being a writer. Yeah I haven’t written in a while. Since May actually, and now, when I try to write, I kind of suck at it.

I haven’t liked anything I’ve written in 3 months.

*sigh*

So I’m just posting this so you guys know I haven’t abandoned my blog. Just going through a rough patch. Hopefully, I get over it soon.

Maybe I need some inspiration. I should probably watch some spoken word videos and listen to good music.

Any suggestions?

 

Rowie

 

Sunday Musings: Getting God

Hey guys! It’s Rowie here again! of course, who else? Lol
Today’s Sunday Musings post is about “getting God” or “getting religion”.
So our finals week just ended and as usual these last two Sundays saw the highest rise of church attendees
apart from Christmas and Easter.
People who haven’t been to church this whole semester went to pray for the A’s they want in their exams.
God doesn’t play chaskele. or maybe he does but it definitely hasn’t affected his judgement.
Just saying…
going to church on Sunday will not change your B to an A
Studying will and of course having a good relationship with God might boost your grades
but not if you’re lazy.

Peace Out.

Rowie

Sunday Musings: Necessity vs Pleasure

This morning, my mother put a bowl of oats in front of me. For breakfast, she said. Plain, original quaker oats.. no fruits, honey, nothing. I proceeded to give her a short lecture/lesson about food. And as usual, it got me thinking and like always, I brought my thoughts here to you guys. So… what I told my mum was there are two reasons why people eat. Cause it’s necessary or cause the chow dey pap. As far as I’m concerned (and this is my opinion, so don’t beat me just leave YOUR opinion in the comments section), Oats is prison food. Prison or war or secondary school. We eat oats cos it’s healthy not cos it’s nice. In prisons and in secondary schools, we are forced to eat oats! Forced! No choice! Because then our wardens don’t have to be overly concerned about our health or whatever. Those nurses kept saying it’s healthy. So since I have been blessed enough to not have to eat oats why would I want to eat it? I am blessed enough that I can eat for pleasure and so I have choices. Not many but still I have choices. I won’t eat oats. And then a thought popped into my head. A question really…. “do we follow God for necessity or pleasure?” Think about it. Do you go to church every Sunday because it’s required of a Christian or because you want to? Are you excited each Sunday as you dress up for church the way you are excited when you’re going out with your friends?? Is church becoming more and more like school for you? You have begun to lie to yourself that you want to be here even though you know it’s only cos school is a means to an end…. has going to church and doing good become a means to an end? A way to get to heaven?? Get things straight. Serve God because you love Him. Not because he asked you to. Go to church because you want to spend time with people who love God like you do not cause your parents forced you to go as a child and right now it’s kind of like a habit. If on one Sunday you don’t want to meet with other Christians, don’t go. Stay home and talk to God alone. God is not only in the church. He’s in your heart too. You can stay home and talk to Him. Just saying….

Amowi.

btw, happy Sunday guys! Have a blessed week!

Thoughts of an ‘old’ girl.

Haven’t posted in a while. Someone just reminded me on twitter that I have a blog. *sigh* I’m sorry. I’ve been so caught up in school stuff that I haven’t had time to even go on twitter as much.

So… Wasup?

Some of you may already know this but for those that don’t know I’ll make the announcement. I’m finally 21. Yaaay! *bored voice*

I’m so OLD now… It’s terrible. I’ve grown more in the past couple of years than in my first 19 years.
I’ve grown up, and I’ve realized things about myself that I didn’t know before. I’ve learnt things about people and about human nature and about Life. And about everything, and about nothing.

I learnt how to smile in the last couple of years. Before, it came so naturally and unconsciously, like breathing, but now I know how to make myself smile.

I’ve learned that my parents will always be there. No matter how much I fuck up or how many times I mess up. Family is important.

That a hug means more than I ever imagined… When used as a tool/weapon. When refused…. When given…. As an incentive…. As a reward……

That I will probably never learn to read an analog clock. I’ve accepted my fate and in the future I will be investing in digital watches.

I’ve learned that when you surround yourself with the right people, when you make the right networks and connections, it pays off. That people can be amazing. Friends will carry you when you can’t walk. That laughing with friends feels so much better than laughing alone.

*sigh*

Sadly, I’ve also learned that the same people that are capable of great acts of kindness are also capable of the darkest evil. That human beings are a strange species. That you cannot predict people. You may think you know them but they will surprise you.

That boys boys never be family.

I’ve learned soo much in the past couple of years. I think the 20’s are the age to think. To second-guess yourself. I over think these days. I analyze people’s actions and reactions. I think too much.

I feel old.

I’m sorry if I sound depressing. In fact, no. I’m not sorry.
But life is hard when you’re 21. I thought life was hard as a teenager but I didn’t know how good i had it. I wish I was 16 again. I wish I could undo some shit I’ve done in my life. I wish I could do some shit I was too scared to do when I was younger. I wish I could redo some crazy fun stuff. I wish I could reset the clock.

If you’re 24 or older tell me, how did you do it??
And if you’re 16 or 18 enjoy it. Do crazy stuff you can regret when you’re older.

Rowie.

fear.

“Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our greatest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brillant, talented, fabulous?”  Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us, it’s in ALL of us.  As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.  As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”–Marianne Williamson from A Return to Love (made famous by Nelson Mandela in his 1994 Inaugural Address)

Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our greatest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

i think the above is a lie. i don’t care who said it or who has endorsed it.

i fear myself. i fear my potential. it scares me but not that i am too good, it scares me that i may not be as good as i want to be or as good as people want me to be. it scares me sometimes, that I’ll disappoint my heart. that I’ll fail my dreams. I run away from competition. literally. i don’t want to be put against the light. i don’t want to be measured against the standard. what if I’m too short? or too slow? or too fast? or too tall? what if I’m not right? and I’d rather not ask the questions, I’d rather remain in the dark about some of these things than put them out there and find that I’m lacking.

it’s like when there’s a glass vase sitting in the darkness, it’s perfect. because you can’t see any flaws. and you can laud it and praise it’s beauty but when you bring it into the light, you realize there is a crack on the bottom. wouldn’t you rather push it back into the darkness so it’s still perfect? why would you want to bring it out into the light?

i think i may fear myself. is that normal?

I’m terribly scared of what i may or may not turn out to be….

maybe, it’s holding me back but i may never really know…

Rowie