Wednesday, 28 November 2012

Enslaved by the Dollar Bill

Allergies have plagued me all of my life. But aside from itchy eyes and a few sneezes here and there, I pretty much never got sick.


Now that I started working full-time every day, however, it seems like sickness just plagues me.

I write to you today with a massive headache, a runny nose, a sore throat and an immune system on the verge of influenza. I also write to you today from my office.

You never really realise how deep you're going in it when it comes to working, until you start working. By this I mean there really aren't many shortcuts or days when you can say eff class, I don't feel good. Or it's raining hard and I don't want to walk on campus. Or I overslept so I may as well just not go.

This is the real world.

You wake up sick, and you better take your sick ass into the shower and get ready for work - just like you do every other day of the week, and every other week of the year for pretty much the rest of your young and healthy life.

With that, I just have one question: whose idea was it to make a work week 5 days and a weekend 2? And WHY!? I mean if you think about it, the way society has it down, we are supposed to spend basically the first 65 years of our lives learning how to work, preparing to work, and then, ultimately, working. Every. Single. Day. Eight hours a day (if you're lucky). Five days a week.

What kind of life is that, exactly? You have to wait 65 years to be able to just wake up in the morning and do nothing but admire the world you've been living in for decades without ever getting a chance to even appreciate? A world that neither you nor your ancestors created by working?

What the hell.

How is anyone genuinely supposed to relish being awakened every day at 6:30 a.m. to leap out of bed, get ready, force feed, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially they make money for somebody else ... And then turn around and be grateful for the opportunity to do so?

Working all your life to afford things you never even get to do or use? Even if you have all the money to do all the wonderful fulfilling things you have always wanted to do, do you even have the time?

Oh wait, I forget. Two weeks vacation out of 52 weeks a year is more than enough to get in everything you missed out on for the other 50 weeks in the year.

That's right.

I say it all the time and I'll say it again; we've got this thing called life all wrong. But we're so caught up in the routine, most of us don't even realise it until it is too late, if at all.

Monday, 19 November 2012

Breaking Point

I've got A LOT on my chest.

So, as a warning, it's quite possible this will be a blog like you have probably never seen on here.

Here goes...

Lately, I have noticed that I have become really lackadaisical and somewhat of a pushover. Granted, I have always been quiet and to myself, however it never meant for a second that I would allow people to push me around or disrespect me. Yet, this is exactly the occurrence that has become frequent as of late.

And now that it has come to my attention, I formally announce that it will happen no longer. If you're confused about what I mean, I can spell it out for you.

I've recently uncovered that there were a bunch of shady people around pretending they were basking in sunshine with me, when really they were hiding in my shadow. I'm quite aware that I may not have a massive group of friends or much of a social life at all for that matter, but by no means does it mean that I want you or your shadiness in my life. By far, I'd rather have ONE good friend than keep around some of you fake motherf_ckers who have been leaching off of me or my family. If you don't really want to be a friend, and deep down you have nothing but bad intentions to go along with your bad behaviour, then take it elsewhere. It's pretty simple really.

My heart is always clean and my intentions, pure. I make no attempts to hide this. So if you find that maybe you don't fit in with that in your life then go find someone else who fits your lifestyle and moral code more closely.

And spare me.

As for people who feel they can pass their slick comments by my ear without me noticing it, in case you have yet to realise, you can't out-swim a fish. Sarcasm was my first language and slickness came along as a bogo. You can't seriously believe that I am not going to know when I am being disrespected slyly. (And let's not even talk about blatantly, although I will say I appreciate those far more.) In the last few years I admit I may not have been as outspoken as I once was, so if maybe by chance you forgot, or simply don't know who I am, allow me to reintroduce myself.

If you're looking for someone to be rude to and get away with it, it won't be me. If you're looking for someone to be shady and fake with, it won't be me. And if you're looking for someone to listen to your incessant pathological lies, it certainly will .. not .. be .. me.

I will call you out with no hesitation.

I've got more than enough positive things going on in my life to not have the need, time, nor space for any negatives. So either you develop that shit into a photograph or get your camera and your film all the way the fuck out of my face.

Oh, and if you feel this is about you then chances are it probably is.


Monday, 12 November 2012

Lesson.. Plans?

I've got a bombshell for you guys.

Are you ready for it?

I think ... I want ... to become a teacher. (Surprise .. !?)

I mean if you think about it, I spend half of my time correcting my peers' grammar and punctuation, and the other half trying to save the world, which I still have yet to realise I cannot do single-handedly. So what better way to put those together than to be in a classroom?

I never really say it, but the first thing I ever wanted to be as a child growing up was a teacher. (After I realised that maybe being a race car driver like Natasha Chang with her Pink Evo wasn't really a job.) And shockingly enough, I wanted to be a math teacher. Mathematics was actually my favourite subject, all the way up until high school when I met my dear friend Algebra 2, who turned me away from being a teacher all together. 

What's more, my mother's mother was a well-respected teacher back in Jamaica, and my mother is on her way to becoming one as well. Funny how I never realised before that maybe being a teacher is just in my blood. Until now.. Maybe..

It's still just a thought. A really recurring thought that is becoming harder and harder to ignore. I have been thinking about it for a little while now, and it's becoming more and more tangible the more I think about it.

I have always felt like there is no job quite as rewarding as being a teacher. Even with my terrible goldfish memory, I can still remember the names and bright  faces of the teachers who really touched my life growing up. When you come across those who just have the passion and the love for being an inspiration to a child ... It touches you. It touched me, at least.

It impacted me every time I went back to my high school to visit my old government, history, Spanish and journalism teachers. How they affected me so much that I actually still go back even after 4 years, and I can still clearly remember the words "NOBODY CARES" being written across the dry-erase board by my government teacher as he tried to teach us to take responsibility for ourselves when we go off to college.

And the other day, when I went with my boyfriend to a middle school to do a presentation, it really came crashing down on me that maybe this is how I am supposed to touch the world. As I sat there and watched them absorb every single word he said, I realised that the impact is real. Those children might forever remember the four guys dressed in suits who came and told them to have confidence in themselves and their abilities, and how be presentable for a job interview. Any one of them could be the next CEO of a big company. And it all started right there in that classroom.

I mean, sure, writing is my talent and my passion. But If I can help be a part of why a whole generation of children live (and write) well and grow to be future doctors and engineers and pilots and writers ... What can possibly be more powerful and beautiful than that. I can single-handedly help reduce the frequency of shoddy grammar on social media in the future. ME. I can make that difference.

I think I may have found my true calling -- and I'm feeling really, really good about it.