I feel like I need a mental break on a regular basis, and I’m wondering is it just me or a symptom of my generation? Are we just lazy and weak?
Our parents were the kind that worked 2, 3 even 4 jobs at a time, with years going by without a holiday, yet never complained or took ‘time out’ or ‘sabbaticals’.
In my generation, we have one or two holidays a year and we are being diagnosed with depression, exhaustion, burn out etc in the thousands.
Of course the other element of it is maybe our parents did feel like that and just said nothing.
I don’t know.
It’s been 4 years since I started this blog. Ordinarily that would be a cause for celebration but I just have so many…
When will a black body be equal to a white one?
When will justice deign to include every race and not just one?
When will we be allowed the right to express our fury, anger and frustration without being labelled as the ‘savages’ that they always knew we were?
Why do they always require the expression of our pain to be muted, strangled & DIGNIFIED?
No Time Like The Present
So Pastor has just preached a meaningful and poignant message. My notes are like super hot fire. Arms are waving, bodies upstanding, hands clapping, and the entire congregation has just made the Jericho-wall-tumbling declaration – “God will perfect everything that concerns me!’. Now for the dreaded part – the bit where we have to say it to our neighbour.
I turn to the left, I meet his eye, and say it with as little awkwardness as I can help, and I return my face forwards. Job done. I ignore the snapshot I had of a familiar small smile creeping up the side of his mouth.
I sense movement, and out of the corner of my eye I see a torso lean forward, then to the right.
A Pensive Moment
“I go into the favelas and give them something to lose; electricity, running water, schoolrooms for their kids. And for that taste of a better life….I own them”
A quote by one of the gangsters in Fast Five; I was watching it the other day. It was so deep it made me think a lot about some things, namely Custard Creams. Do you remember when you were small and they were the biscuit of biscuits? If you had them in your lunchbox and shared them, you were the don of the playground. For that taste of a better/supreme biscuit, you owned your playmates. What you said went. You were omnipotent.
A Dog’s Life
A dog starts walking alongside me like it’s my companion.
I stop, look down at it and say ‘What do you want?’
It looks up at me.
I stare down at it.
I narrow my eyes.