Rain

When shit starts hitting the fan, people react differently.  Some people scream and shout. Some put their head in the ground.  I put my head down and work.  I work because there is always something that needs to be done: whether it is organising home care for a sick relative or writing 70 scripts for the new channel.  I work.

I don’t mind it, it makes me feel a little bit more in control of something that I know is actually nowhere close to in my control. 

But today, I was overwhelmed, and my sense to start working never kicked in.  I felt like staring into the nothingness for a really long time, hoping that the answers to life's questions will magically fly into my head. 

I’m worried about my mum – nothing major, but she is growing old, and she is all I have.  I like her, she cant go anywhere.  Not yet anyways. 

I’m worried about my decisions, its big and important ones and have the potential for greatness but it also has the potential for pure, frikin disaster.  I’m worried about the words coming out of my mouth – I’ve been so angry the last couple of weeks, I’ll fight with anybody who looks at me the wrong way. 

And probably the most menial of the lot, Im worried about my car… Its broken down two months in a row, after I got it serviced.  Being dependent on my car, I really really don’t need it.

Somewhere in the afternoon, I sat myself down and started.  I started on the tons of work that’s staring at me. 

My nature eventually kicked in, and three hours later I look up.  I looked into a dark blue sky of thunder and rain.  I felt better.

Not because I eventually made a dent in the work, but because to me, rain heals my soul.  Its God way of telling me that He still is in control.  And I like that.  I work hard, but I’m not necessarily good with this grown up stuff.

Bitterness

Today I am bitter. Very bitter.  Its was a whole sequence of events that led to me feeling like this – feeling like I want to give up on people, hate them forever and wanting to go live on a very secluded island.

I hate that my skills and my knowledge have become invaluable.  That I’m only judges on the colour of my skin. I hate that people first fight, before asking both sides of the story.  I hate that I can work hard for whatever I want, but others have a sense of entitlement.  I hate that it’s because I work hard, people walk all over me.

I hate that I’ve never in my life felt like this, but now it consumes me.

It’s this feeling of not wanting to believe in people – even though most of the time I’d like to see the magic.  It’s finding that your half full glass is actually half empty because of the colour of your skin.  Its feeling like whatever I’ve put in, up to this point isn’t good enough because I’m not the right colour. 

It’s watching a project going wrong, knowing what needs to be done and not being able to do it.  It’s getting the phone call, saying please help, when the project has finally hit the fan. 

My mentor, a guy with more patience that I’ve ever seen, will tell me – if it wasn’t for other people’s screw ups, we wouldn’t have a job.

Fair enough. 

I can crises manage, and have managed several projects back to normal after the fan-episode.  But I’m tired of not being ‘good’ enough to manage the project from the start, but to only help save it.

Hopefully, in heaven, we won’t see colour, but we’ll celebrate the magic that happens when wanting, willingness and skills combine.  Because, as far as people go, yep – I hate them for now, but they do come with a certain bit of magic. 

But for now, I like animals better. They don’t talk back.