No More Pinky Promises

Hold my hand, don’t drag me by my sleeve.

Hold my hand, don’t take it to pull me where I don’t want to go.

Hold my hand, don’t fling it away because you have more important things to do.

Hold my hand and say, “We’ll do this together,” not “You’re so stupid! Why can’t you do anything right?”

Hold my hand and guide me to walk strong and tall, not pull yours away and say, “Stand on your two feet, you dirty yellow chicken!”

Hold my hand, tell me I am a good daughter despite my flaws, not tell all the relatives that I am unfilial, unreliable, untrustworthy, worthless, and lacking in grace, manners and civility.

Hold my hand, teach me arts and crafts and life skills, not use your own to slap me, and write lists and essays of how much money I cost you to raise me.

Hold my hand because you are my mother, and I should be by your side for your golden years.

But you know what?

Don’t hold my hand.

I have walked a long road on my own two feet. It has taken a long while but I have found my path. I found my way. And I am letting you go.


RDP ~ HOLD MY HAND

Matcha Plus ~ Act Of Kindness #37

I went to Starbucks in Monday, hell bent on getting a Grande Pure Matcha Latte With Oat Milk And No Sugar.

Why? Because it had been one of those days. Oh, you meant why that drink? Because I had a medical scare last June and have gone cold turkey on coffee since then. I’d been choosing Matchas because they were supposed to be the wonder drink and since oat milk was available, why not? For some reason, almond milk is not offered (scratches head).

But this post is not about my green tea fixation. It’s about this:

When I took out my card to pay, the barista said the customer before me had paid for my drink, so I was to enjoy my beverage and to have a great day.”

Wow. I’d heard of people doing this and kudos to everyone who has. But I’ve never been a recipient and, sadly, it hit me that I’ve never done it for anyone before either.

So I went back to barista and told her I’d do the same for her next customer. Whoever you are, enjoy!

And whoever you are who paid for my drink, a huge thank you. I had a great drink, but your generosity reset the balance for the lousy day that drove me to Starbucks in the first place.


March

March 4th, the only day that is also a sentence.” ~ John Green

And here’s a peek the first March weekly spread in my bullet journal. I can honestly say that journalling has been a huge help in sorting out the bits and pieces of life.

Ahem. Ah Choo.

When Covid-19 hit, there were tales of Asians being insulted, ostracised, spat at, beaten, screeched at to “Get the #@$ out of my country!”

Then came the pictures of shopkeepers who placed posters across their doors, refusing service to “foreigners”.

Now that this virus has spread even further, and the patients are no longer just Asians, is it wrong to take a few moments to snort at the latest online videos?

The classic is the one where an Asian man steps into a restaurant, a lift and a gym, and coughs; the folks flee faster than The Flash. The man is an actor with a message. But behind the snarky storytelling lies a sad reality.

My child called home last week to say an Asian friend was in a fairly crowded train, heading from Oxford to London. He coughed because his throat was ticklish – you know, the sort of ticklish that a sip of water will take care of.

What happened was this: the carriage emptied. Every single person packed his or her things and left. The young Asian didn’t know whether to sob (“It kinda hurt!”) or celebrate (“I got the whole place to myself – beats even First Class.”)

I’d say the virus isn’t what’s viral. How we’re responding is. And while it’s understandable, it’s still sad.

P/S The young Asian is healthy.


RDP ~ VIRAL

He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands …

Can I just say I’ve had days where I’ve wanted to whack a phone zombie on the head just so he would put the phone away, and look up and focus on the world around him?


Is your meal companion not important enough that you need to be communicating with someone else who’s not there? Or engrossed in the latest tweet or post?

Is your life not precious enough that you’re texting or watching something and not looking where you’re stepping?

Is your privacy or your company’s latest figures not confidential enough that you’re babbling away in a packed train for all to hear?

Really, is the world you live in so bad that you prefer the tiny one in your hand? I’m all for theย  convenience, connections and entertainment phone use brings; I’m just worried it may have overtaken the purpose of living.

It is the greatest irony that MacDonald’s attempt to encourageย  phone-free meal times by providing phone lockers ended up a huge failure.






RDP ~ ANNOYING

The Weight Of Waiting

Waiting for the microwave to ding, for the delivery guy, for the bus, for something to go on sale, for your turn at the doctor’s …

These are easy ‘waits’. We know that, eventually, that which we are waiting for will happen. The microwave will ding, the bus will come, and two hours or more later it will be our turn to enter the doctor’s office. The parcel? Well, there could be an inexplicable delay or, like mine did, it could go on an extended holiday in Paris (yep, the one in France) before it found its battered way back and I’d forgotten what was in it.


So then what’s a difficult ‘wait’? It’s waiting for signs that a relationship can be saved if you were more forgiving and tolerant.

It’s waiting for acknowledgement that you have done well.

It’s waiting for others to realise they’d been fed a load of lies and been taken in by someone with a glibber tongue, a wittier story telling style or a more convincing persona.

It’s waiting for the life you were meant to have if you were filial, loyal, kind, honest and hardworking.

It’s waiting for someone to change for the better.

Guess what? I’m done waiting. I will change. I will make my life better because I deserve it. And those people? They can wait in vain for me.”



RDP ~ WAITING