Tag Archives: The Inkling

The Inklings: Chapter 14

The next three days were the longest in John’s life. Each morning he woke up and remembered that Fanta had his phone number and might call him that day. Then John spent the days waiting for her to call. Finally, each night he went to bed feeling miserable because she hadn’t called. On the third night of this misery, John walked home from the Pizza restaurant without any spring in his step and without even thinking about whistling. Although he knew there was a chance that when he got home he would find a message from Fanta waiting for him on the answering machine John didn’t believe there would be one. He was beginning to think that D’arby was right. Fanta had just taken his number to be polite and had then thrown it in the first rubbish bin she came across.

When John got home he could tell that D’arby hadn’t come home yet because D’arby’s uni bag wasn’t hung up behind the front door and there were no dinner dishes in the sink.

“The perfect end to a perfect day” thought John, when he realized that there was no bread left for him to make toast with. D’arby’s absence meant that there would be no leftovers around for him to eat either. John went to bed hungry and lonely.

In the morning things began to look up for John. He awoke to the smell of coffee and fried eggs. D’arby had been shopping and was making a special breakfast to celebrate because the night before he had finished writing the most difficult chapter of his thesis.

“Have a coffee” said D’arby when he realized that John was sitting up and watching him cook.

John was pleased to see that the coffee D’arby handed him had milk froth on top. That meant D’arby had filled the cups at the nearby café, not made his own. D’arby’s method for making coffee was to boil ground coffee in a saucepan (for a not very carefully measured amount of time) and then slop in some milk. Sometimes he remembered to strain out the coffee grounds and sometimes he didn’t.

“Has she called you yet?” asked D’arby and he turned the frying pan around with one hand while taking a sip of coffee from the cup in his other hand.

“I thought you said she wouldn’t call” said John

“I was just pissed off with you because you woke me up” said D’arby.

“Well, you were right anyway” said John and he stared into his coffee cup.

“Sorry” said D’arby and he also seemed to find his coffee very interesting to look at.

“Yeah, well…” said John

“Have some eggs” said D’arby and tilted the frying pan so that two eggs slid out onto two pieces of toast on a plate next to the stove.

“Thanks” said John as D’arby handed him the plate. He was glad to be able to eat because it gave him an excuse for not talking. The eggs were also very tasty and John was very hungry. He was enjoying his second mouthful when the phone rang. John looked at D’arby to see if he was going to answer the phone but D’arby also had a mouth full of eggs. John chewed a couple of times, swallowed the eggs and then picked up the phone.

“Hhhllllo” said John

“Is John there please?” said a strange voice.

John coughed to clear his throat and then said “This is John. Who is that?”

“Wait…” said the strange voice. There was a clunking sound as the phone was put down on a table and John heard the strange voice say “He’s on the line. Come and talk to him. Come on! Hurry up or he’ll hang up.”

Then John heard some rustling sounds and some angry whispering that prompted some muffled laughter. Finally the phone was picked up again.

“Hello” said another voice. “Sorry about that. My sisters found your number and decided I should call you”

“Oh” said John. “It’s nice to hear from you but I’d rather you were talking to me because YOU wanted to.” He knew that wasn’t a good way to endear Fanta to him, but he was upset.

“It’s not that I didn’t want to call you. I was just scared to” said Fanta

“Scared? Why?” asked John, conveniently forgetting that he still wasn’t the most approachable young man.

“You look sort of rough” said Fanta. “Are you a criminal?”

John didn’t know how to answer. He stood there with his mouth open, thinking, until D’arby started laughing because John looked so stupid.

“Oh, you have someone there. I’ll let you go” said Fanta

“No! Don’t hang up. When can I see you? What are you doing tonight – I mean today – I have to work tonight?” said John, while feeling like a complete loser.

“I’m going to uni” said Fanta

“Oh” said John, feeling like even more of an idiot as he remembered that most people had stuff to do during week days.

“We could meet for lunch though” said Fanta.

When John hung up the phone he started to panic because he had no idea where the place that he’d agreed to meet Fanta at was. Fortunately D’arby was in no hurry to get to uni and agreed to show him where it was. This calmed John down enough for him to be able to decide what to wear. He laid out his outfit on the floor and plugged in the iron.

“Oh no…you aren’t going to make me watch you iron, are you?” complained D’arby

“You don’t have to watch” said John “but you might learn something if you do. I’m a master ironer”

“No, you’re just a neurotic ironer” said D’arby and he decided that next time he was home alone he’d get rid of the iron.

John carefully ironed the clothes he was going to wear (even his socks and undies), despite the withering glare of D’arby who was sitting impatiently, with his arms crossed in front of him. Somehow D’arby managed to control his annoyance as John then had his longest ever shower (shampooing his hair three times). Finally John and D’arby were on their way to the café at uni.

“Do I look rough?” asked John as he and D’arby walked along

“Well, a little bit” answered D’arby

“Why? What makes me look rough?” asked John

“Probably all the wrinkles in the back of your shirt” said D’arby

“What!” said John and tried to twist his shirt around so he could examine it for wrinkles until he realized that D’arby was laughing at him.

John swore at D’arby, but D’arby didn’t care. They were approaching the café and D’arby was looking at the people sitting at the outdoor tables, trying to guess which girl was Fanta.

“Is this it?” asked John

“Yeah” said D’arby. “Can you see her?”

John had a look around. “There she is!” he said and pointed to the furthest away table. “She hasn’t seen us yet. Look! Isn’t she lovely?”

D’arby strained to see Fanta. He had been spending too much time at the computer and couldn’t make out much detail from so far away.

“Come and meet her” said John, and walked over to Fanta without even checking that D’arby was following.

When John got to Fanta’s table she still hadn’t looked up from the book she was reading and it was only when D’arby’s shadow fell across the page that she realized someone was there.

“She is so calm” thought John

“She’s pretty ordinary” thought D’arby. He couldn’t see anything remarkable about this girl.

“Hello” said Fanta, standing up

“Hello” said John “This is my friend D’arby”

“Hello. I just had to help John find his way here, I’ll be off now” said D’arby

“Ok, bye, nice to meet you” said Fanta

“She is so cool” thought John

He sat down at the table with Fanta. She was smiling at him. It seemed to John that Fanta had stopped worrying about him being a dangerous criminal. Maybe it was because he arrived with the nerdy and respectable-looking D’arby or maybe it was just because of his nicely ironed clothes.

John could smell some of the gardenias that grew almost everywhere on the campus. There was a light breeze and the sun was warm. John had a feeling that this might be one of the best moments of his life but was distracted from that thought when he realized that his eyes had been following an old instinct and counting the number of wallets and bags that had been left in easy-to-steal positions. The people in this café were so relaxed that they were being careless. John wondered how he’d never found this place when he needed some cash, until he started to worry that he had been silent too long and didn’t want Fanta to start trying to read his mind.

“It’s lovely here” said John

“Very” said Fanta

 


Give Yourself A Chance, You’re Worth It

My boss called me into his office a couple of days ago and gave me a serious talking to about my behavior.  At the time I felt it was unfair of him to make such a big deal out of me turning up to work a few minutes late, but then he had to bring up the time that I was nearly two hours late and un-contactable because my alarm clock broke and I slept- in with my phone switched off.  It only happened once, and it wasn’t my fault, but he can’t get over it, even though I said I was sorry and bought a new alarm clock so it wouldn’t happen again.  Now he’s also saying that my work is not up to scratch and that he has had to deal with complaints from customers because I’m taking too long finishing off jobs that they are urgently waiting on.  I feel like he’s picking on me and pushing me to do more than I can.  He should know that when you put your workers under pressure and set them unrealistic tasks and deadlines things go wrong.  Like the stuff-up we had last month when we lost an important customer and it ended up costing the company thousands of dollars. 

I nearly told him where to go and was going to quit on the spot, but then he started to look all sad and told me I was a good bloke and he didn’t want to have to let me go.  He said I wasn’t giving him much choice, and unless I can get my act together and get serious about my job I was going to lose it.  The truth is, I don’t want to lose my job. I’ve worked with this company since I was in school and my boss has supported me heaps over the years to get me into the position I hold today.  I love the people I work with and I love what I do.  I’d feel completely lost without my job.    

When I was leaving his office he stopped me and handed me some pamphlets about Alcoholics Anonymous.  I nearly threw them in his face, but something stopped me.  I took them home with me and threw them in the bin. It was bugging me for days, so I fished them out this morning and had a read. I’m wondering now if maybe my boss is right and it scares the shit out of me.  I don’t feel on top of things anymore and most days all that keeps me going is the thought of knock-off time and getting down to the pub for a coldie.  I don’t know if I could live without booze, but I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my job.  I’m 36 and I know I’m too young to give up on life, but I just don’t know what I have left anymore. 

Well, the good news for you is that you still have everything you ever had that was worth having, only now you have the benefit of self reflection to go with it. Nothing has been taken away from you, instead you have been given a gift. Now is an important time for you to be honest with yourself and see this opportunity for what it is. Are you truly happy with yourself the way you are now? Is this the way you want your life to be? Are you giving yourself a fair chance to be the person you have always wanted to be? Have you given up on yourself? Don’t you believe you are worth it?

You have been given an opportunity to get back everything of value that you feel you have lost or are losing.  Now it’s up to you. You can choose to accept it with courage, or push it away in fear.  If you are scared now it is because you need to be, but you don’t need to be scared off.  You can embrace this fear and use it to your advantage.  Your boss is a wise, compassionate man who cares about you, and there are many more people like that who know exactly what you are going through and can help you through it.  If you are scared, seek help.  If you ignore it, it won’t go away.  Give yourself a chance.  You’re worth it.

The Spark.


The Inklings: Chapter 13

Fanta had been forcing herself to study all morning. Her final uni exams started in a week and she really wanted to do well, but she was so tired and distracted that she may as well have spent the morning staring at a wall.

Fanta hadn’t been able to sleep very well the night before. After arriving home she’d put the piece of paper with John’s phone number written on it on her desk. When she got up she looked at it again. She wondered whether she should throw it away immediately in case she was tempted to call him, keep it for a while and think about calling him or just call him. When Fanta remembered what Syafika had said about John she was swayed in the direction of throwing John’s phone number away. Then Fanta remembered how nice it was to talk to John and decided she should give him a chance. Then she thought about her little sisters (who she was the guardian of) and decided that it was better to avoid anyone who might upset their happy home. Then she remembered that she had told John she would call him, which meant she really did have to call him (even if it was just to say she didn’t want to see him). Finally Fanta decided that she didn’t have to decide anything yet because it would be silly to call John so soon anyway. Fanta was just about to start remembering what Syafika had said about John again when the phone rang. It was Syafika.

“Fanta! I’m coming over to your place right now. I need to escape my crazy family” said Syafika.

Syafika arrived not long after and spent the next hour telling Fanta what had been going on at her house that morning.

Festus was still fuming about the damage Amanda had done to the house. Even Rose was angry with Amanda, but that was mostly because the wardrobe had squashed her gardenia bushes. Because Amanda was hiding in her room Festus and Rose couldn’t help directing their anger at Syafika (which Syafika thought was really unfair. She thought her parents ought to be feeling thankful that she was not as naughty as Amanda and be rewarding her comparatively good behaviour with kind words).

Syafika reckoned she could have coped with the bad vibes coming from her parents if her Aunt Binta and Ousman hadn’t also come around with their own problems. They were already yelling at each other when they arrived. Ousman had done something naughty again, only he didn’t seem to think he’d done anything wrong. As Syafika left she’d heard Ousman complaining that there was no point doing well at school if it wouldn’t get him what he really wanted. That sentence had delighted Syafika.

After telling Fanta all about her morning Syafika decided that it was the right day for Fanta to meet Vincent. Syafika and Vincent were going to meet at their favourite café when Vincent finished work and Syafika wanted Fanta to come along.

Fanta was suspicious that the planned introduction to Vincent was just to stop her from being annoyed that Syafika was going to interrupt her plan to study all day.

“So what will we do until it is time to meet Vincent?” Syafika asked, but none of Fanta’s suggestions (clean the house, do the washing, read textbooks) tempted Syafika so Syafika and Fanta ended up making cakes and biscuits and having lots of cups of tea until it was time to go to meet Vincent.

In her head Fanta had a picture of a Vincent who was jumpy, nerdy and weedy (despite Syafika’s description of Vincent contradicting this picture), so when Vincent arrived at the café Fanta was surprised (and a bit sad because she’d grown fond of the imaginary Vincent). Vincent looked strong and had a permanent frown. Fanta imagined that Vincent was the sort of person who would competently take charge in emergency situations. She could see why Syafika liked Vincent but she couldn’t help wondering whether Syafika sometimes annoyed Vincent. He looked like he wouldn’t approve of silliness. Fanta decided that she better try not to giggle too much when Vincent was around.

Vincent and Fanta exchanged meaningless greetings and then Syafika burst in with “How was your day?”

“Busy, but I can’t really talk about it” said Vincent, looking suspiciously at Fanta.

Vincent sat down next to Syafika on the bench and they snuggled up. Fanta was sitting on a chair on the opposite side of the table. She felt like she was intruding. She actually felt even worse than that. Fanta knew that she should be happy for Syafika, and she was happy for her, but she had this other feeling too. It was to do with the change in the way things were. Fanta felt really lonely and decided to leave. She stood up and said something about needing to get home before her sisters made a mess.

Vincent and Syafika acknowledged that Fanta was saying something, but they weren’t really listening. They just said “Bye” and Fanta left.

 

 


September 2011 Challenge

A Week Without Makeup

My challenge began rather accidently and continued mostly out of laziness.  On Monday morning I woke up in bed with a new man and decided to get up before he woke so I could put on a bit of makeup, just enough to not feel overexposed.  I had  showered the previous night just before going to bed, so as yet he hadn’t seen the real me, nor did I have any  intention of letting him do so.  I quietly emptied the contents of my handbag twice looking for my mascara, but eventually had to accept that I must have forgotten to put it in my bag to bring after using it the day before. Shit! So there I was, stranded in this man’s apartment without any makeup on my face, and none to put on, and him about to wake up and catch me like that at any minute!  I considered making a run for it, but then remembered how difficult that could be without a swipe card to get me out of the building. I was trapped.

Okay, all I could do now was to gracefully take it in my stride and not let it bother me. I had to think naturally beautiful thoughts and feel confident in my own skin.  I put on some lip gloss and combed my hair.  My reflection in the mirror, with the pale yellow sunlight of the morning making me look radiant, was friendly. I felt a sudden release, then forgiveness, like I was rediscovering the grown up child within me that I had been ignoring for so long.  Meanwhile, as I sat there basking in my revelation, he gasps suddenly, rolls over, looks at his watch, swears, throws back covers and stumbles into the shower without so much as a glance in my direction.

Over the next few days I felt no need to “dirty” my face with the black stuff which I realized I had been doing to myself daily.  What a treat to skip this tedious morning ritual! Why had I never questioned it before? I felt fresh and honest.  My face could breathe. I saw the vulnerability of my made-up face, which inevitably, as the day progressed, would end up as smudgy shadows, accentuating the bags and sitting stubbornly in the wrinkles under my eyes.  Tinted sunscreen and lip gloss gave me all the “protection” I needed.  Even then I felt a bit like I was cheating.

I attended my appointments confidently, defiantly removing my sunglasses in-doors and looking other made-up faces supremely in the eye.  I felt self righteous in my nakedness.

On Friday my ex-boyfriend called round to say hello.  Apparently he was back in town for a few days to collect some things before moving permanently to another city.  He was clean shaven, with a new hair cut and diamond stud in one ear.  I noticed he was wearing the black jacket I had told him he looked good in and was heavily perfumed.  He smiled broadly when I opened the door, but then his face changed.

“You look different”

“You look different too.”  I replied.

“Have you done something?  I don’t know… Your eyes look kind of swollen, like you’re tired or something.  Did you just wake up?”

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon.

”No.  It’s probably just because you haven’t seen me for a while.  How have you been?”

“Yeah good… You look different.  There’s something different about you.”

“Yeah well, I don’t think we should see each other anymore.  I’m over you and I don’t really want to see you again.  I have a new boyfriend anyway, so…”

“Yeah, I just came over to say hello, that’s all.”

“Okay then,… Hello… and bye.  Take care of yourself.”

Door closes.  Damn!  What’s come over me?  I had never been able to do that before.  Was that because I had always been too obsessed with looking attractive to be really conscious of my true feelings or to be able to express them adequately?  I felt cool, calm, confident, and satisfied.

I broke my no-make- up diet on the following Tuesday night when I went out with a friend to see a movie.  There was a real novelty in dressing up and putting on a bit of “bling” for the occasion.  It felt good to lash-out and wear a bit of make-up and notice the boost it gave me.  I definitely look more attractive with make-up and I don’t think I would ever want to give it up completely. Although it is nice to know that I quite like my face as it is too, and I don’t need to feel ashamed to hide it.


The Inklings: Chapter 12

Feeding an addiction had been hard work. John only realized how hard it had been now that he didn’t need to do it anymore. So, an unexpected bonus of those awful years was that now he was a really hard worker, and not just a hard worker but a determined one. This meant that the rest of his month at the Pizza restaurant went really smoothly. The problems John faced there were nothing compared to those he’d faced in his previous life. He turned out to be a calm and fair manager. The staff loved him and the customers were always satisfied. It was only when it came time for his father to decide whether he could stay on as manager that John felt any stress.

John and D’arby were still busily calculating the profit for the month when John’s father parked his car outside. He’d come an hour early to catch John unawares, and because he was curious to see how things had been going. He walked into the restaurant and saw D’arby and John with a calculator, various pieces of paper and strained expressions.

“Hello” said John’s father. “So what was the profit?”

John was too scared by the unexpected presence of his father to be able to do anything except give him the piece of paper that he and D’arby had been writing on. John wasn’t sure whether the profit was up or down. John’s father looked at the paper briefly and then asked John who D’arby was.

“He’s my friend D’arby. He is better at maths than me” explained John.

“Ok. How’s everything been going then?” said John’s father.

“Ok” said John. He didn’t want to chat. He wanted to know if he’d passed the test. “Well?” he asked

“Mmmm, I suppose you can stay, but don’t get too comfortable. You have to keep this up” said John’s father. Then he looked at D’arby and asked “Has John really been keeping out of trouble?”

“Well, he keeps doing the ironing, but apart from that he’s been very well behaved” answered D’arby.

John’s father didn’t understand this joke and decided it was time to leave. “I’ll leave you to it” he said

“How’s Mum?” asked John

“She’s well” said John’s father, and he left.

D’arby and John discreetly watched John’s father through a gap in the restaurant curtains as he got into his car and drove off. Then they started running around the restaurant laughing, until D’arby tripped on a chair and fell over.

D’arby limped off to uni, leaving John to get ready for the lunchtime shift. John couldn’t wipe the smile off his face and he decided that he would sell his first special pizzas that night.

It was also going to be a special night for Fanta too. She and Syafika had decided to go out for dinner together. Ever since Syafika had met Vincent Fanta hadn’t seen much of Syafika. Fanta had actually been missing Syafika’s company, and she was looking forward to hearing the latest about Vincent.

As Fanta approached Syafika’s place she could see that the front door was open, and Amanda was trying to fit a wardrobe through it. Fanta hardly recognized Amanda, but that was normal. She was always changing the way she looked. This time Amanda was wearing nothing but a short lace nightie that had been dyed purple. Her eye sockets were filled with matching purple eyeshadow and her shoulder length hair was so blonde it was white, apart from some purple streaks. Fanta was wondering how Amanda managed to have such a dark tan when she never went outside during the day, when her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Festus.

Festus slammed the car door angrily and yelled at Amanda “What do you think you are doing!” He was so loud that the neighbours opened their blinds to look out.

Amanda was still busy trying to manoeuvre the wardrobe through the door and didn’t pay any attention to her father so he walked closer and yelled the question again. Amanda had managed to get the wardrobe stuck in the doorway and because of this barrier between her and her father she wasn’t scared and said “Why don’t you help me, you lazy arse”

Festus gave the wardrobe a kick and yelled “Just you wait until I get my hands on you” before heading off towards the back door.

“Thanks Dad” said Amanda as the wardrobe came loose. She gave it one final push and it slid out across the front verandah and onto the front steps before falling sideways onto Rose’s gardenia bushes.

Then Amanda ran upstairs to lock herself in her room before her father got to her, not that he would have done anything except yell some more.

Fanta was wondering whether she should enter the house when there was about to be fireworks, but she didn’t have to make the decision because Syafika came outside in a hurry.

“Let’s go before Dad sees what else Amanda has done” said Syafika. She took Fanta’s arm in hers and they hurried off.

“What was Amanda doing?” asked Fanta

“She decided to throw out all of her furniture” said Syafika. “She moved the wardrobe downstairs by herself and it was so heavy she couldn’t control it. It slipped down the stairs and when it got to the bottom it knocked a hole in the wall between the kitchen and the living room.”

Fanta didn’t bother asking why Amanda would do that. Nobody could give an answer except Amanda, and she never bothered to answer questions.

“Where are we going for dinner?” asked Fanta

“I want pizza” said Syafika. “Let’s try that funny little place with red and white checked table cloths that we saw from the bus on the way to the beach that day”

Fanta remembered the place and said “Ok”. She didn’t really like pizza but she thought she could bear it if that’s what Syafika wanted.

It was a particularly busy night at John’s pizza place, and he was disappointed that he hadn’t been able to use any of the special pizza dough yet. He had left it too late to make it and it hadn’t risen properly yet. “At least it will be ready in the second half of the evening” he thought and scanned the restaurant, trying to work out how many addicts were missing out on their cure that evening. John didn’t only count illicit drug addicts as addicts. That was only a small portion of the addicts in the world. It was the legal drugs that affected the most people. He could see three alcoholics and no doubt there were a few smokers there that evening too. Then there would have been at least one person who was addicted to prescription drugs (and probably didn’t even know it). John was wondering whether the special ingredient would also cure people who were addicted to other things, like shopping, when the restaurant door opened and Fanta and Syafika walked in.

It was fortunate that John wasn’t carrying any plates at that moment.

Fanta and Syafika sat down at one of the small tables near the front window and John hurried over to give them menus. He wanted to say something clever, but couldn’t think of anything and so he came out with the standard “Would you like to order any drinks first?”

Syafika ordered sparkling mineral water for them both while Fanta just stared at John. She remembered him. He was the strange man who had stared at her the other day. Fanta remembered John because people usually didn’t pay her much attention.

When John left the table Fanta asked Syafika “Do you think the waiter is handsome?”

“No way!” said Syafika “But I’m fussy now I have Vincent so maybe you better not listen to my opinion”

Fanta didn’t want to appear too interested in the waiter and so she returned to the topic of Vincent. “So, are you in love with Vincent?”

Syafika needed a few seconds to consider her answer. Fanta didn’t think that meant good things for Vincent.

“If I had written down all the qualities I wanted in a man and had put little check boxes next to each item on the list, then when Vincent came along I’d have been able to tick almost all of the boxes” said Syafika

“Almost all?” asked Fanta

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted a man with a six pack, and Vincent doesn’t have one” said Syafika “Although he does have nice arms and shoulders. He likes exercising, but for some reason he doesn’t spend enough time on his abs”

“What about his personality?” asked Fanta. She didn’t know why Syafika was so worried about a six pack. Couldn’t anyone get one of those if they really wanted?

“Yeah, he looks grumpy but he isn’t. He’s really nice. He tries very hard to make me happy. He gives me presents all the time and calls me at least twice a day” said Syafika

“And?” said Fanta

“And what?” asked Syafika

“Nothing” said Fanta. “I just thought you’d have more to say after having spent all your spare time with Vincent for so many weeks”

Syafika was going to say something about it sounding like Fanta was getting jealous of Vincent, but she stopped because John was back at their table.

“Are you ready to order?” asked John

“Ahhh, sorry. Not yet” said Fanta, realizing that she and Syafika hadn’t even looked at the menu yet.

“Take your time” said John and he left the table, wishing again that he’d been able to think of something clever to say.

“So what do you want?” asked Fanta

“Let’s share pizza number three and a salad” said Syafika. Food made her happy so she forgot she had been about to say something nasty to Fanta.

“Good” said Fanta. She wasn’t even paying attention to what Syafika chose though. Fanta was too busy watching John as he took the order of the people at another table. She could see that he was trying to concentrate on his job while also looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“You like the waiter, don’t you?” said Syafika

“Yeah” replied Fanta

“He looks like a drug addict” said Syafika “He is so jumpy and scrawny. You have bad taste”

“He looks interesting” said Fanta, and then she couldn’t help adding “Which is more than can be said for Vincent, if I can only go on what you have said tonight”

“Well, you don’t know Vincent” said Syafika

“So tell me about him!” said Fanta. “Why are you so reluctant? I thought you’d be hard to stop!”

“Well… I guess it isn’t what I expected. I’ve never felt any heart racing excitement over Vincent. It is just nice to be with him. Maybe this is what love is really like. I just thought it would be so much more like in movies and books. There was no struggle for us to get together. There was no build up of tension. We just met and liked each other and get on well” said Syafika

“Pooh. That does sound boring” said Fanta “It’s like you went straight from being strangers to being a married couple”

“Yeah, well, that is the only thing that might be exciting. I’m wondering if he will propose soon and how he will do it” said Syafika

“So will you say yes if he asks?” asked Fanta

“Of course” said Syafika

Fanta was unhappy. Something wasn’t right. If Syafika was happy, why wasn’t she behaving that way?

“Hey, your favourite waiter is coming back to take the order. Sit up straight and smile” said Syafika

Fanta sat up straight and looked over her shoulder. John was already there. Fanta smiled and John smiled back. He forgot what he was standing there for.

“Can I order yet?” complained Syafika.

“If you could wait another few minutes it would be nice” thought John but Fanta had already looked away.

Syafika smirked as she ordered. Fanta was busy examining her napkin and wondering why she was feeling so nervous. She wasn’t normally like that. Fanta was used to being level headed at all times. She should say something before John left the table, but what could she say? Then she realized that there was something she could say.

“I saw you the other day, didn’t I?” asked Fanta

“Yeah, I saw you too” answered John, with a bigger smile than before and he took their order into the kitchen.

“Where did you see each other?” asked Syafika. “Or was that just your bad attempt at a pick-up line?”

“No!” said Fanta and started laughing. “I just saw him in the street, on my way home from uni”

“Yeah I can imagine him hanging out in the street. I hope he isn’t the one making the pizzas. You don’t know what he might put in them” said Syafika.

Fanta didn’t know if the pizza really was good or if she was just in a good enough mood to enjoy eating anything. When it was time to leave Fanta insisted on paying the bill, and Syafika smirked again as she watched Fanta go over to the cash register, which was conveniently being operated by John.

“Did he ask for your phone number?” said Syafika as soon as she and Fanta were outside.

“Yeah, but I didn’t give it to him” replied Fanta

“What!” said Syafika and she stopped walking to stare at Fanta

“I asked for his instead” said Fanta and she held up a piece of paper with “John” and a phone number written on it.

“You are naughty” said Syafika

“No, I’m just cautious” said Fanta

“What do you mean?” asked Syafika

“Well, you did say he looked a bit dodgy. I want to make sure he is normal before I let him know my phone number or where I live” said Fanta, and although she said it like she was joking, she wasn’t. Fanta had also decided that John had probably had a colourful past and she wouldn’t be letting him meet her sisters or know where she lived until he had told her about it.

It wasn’t until Fanta and Syafika had left the restaurant that John remembered the special pizza dough. He wasn’t sure he should use it anymore, but that was just because he didn’t know if it would be healthy for him to have any more excitement that night. That was only a passing thought though and he went into the kitchen to make sure the special dough was used for the rest of the evening.

There were three people working in the kitchen and they were so busy that evening that they were only just coping. Ellen made the pizzas five nights of the week and she was fussy about the dough. If it wasn’t made properly she was likely to throw it at someone in anger and storm out. When John appeared with some alternative pizza dough that he’d claimed to have made Ellen didn’t hide her disgust. “Do you have to try it out when it is so busy? What if it is crap? We won’t have time to make new pizzas!”

“I’ve already tested it and its great” said John. “Try it! You’ll like it”

“Don’t bother looking for a job in advertising” said Ellen, but she took the pizza dough anyway. Ellen thought that if she did John a favour he might do her one back and she asked “How’s your friend D’arby these days? Is he going to be coming in to the restaurant soon?”

“Probably not. He’s too busy writing up his thesis” said John. “Why?”

“He’s my type. I like a younger man, especially one who looks so serious. Is he single?” asked Ellen

“Yeah, he’s single” said John, and he wondered whether Ellen was D’arby’s type. They hadn’t talked about women much yet. There always seemed to be something more pressing to talk about. Ellen was right though, D’arby really was pretty serious. “I’ll tell him you asked about him” said John with a wink, and then he went back to the dining room.

The rest of the evening was an anticlimax, except that Ellen mentioned to John that his pizza dough was a little bit better than the normal one. The customers all ate their pizzas like there was nothing unusual about them, then they all paid their bills and left. Nobody seemed to have undergone a life-changing event. Perhaps the secret ingredient didn’t work when it was mixed with pizza dough. Or maybe none of the customers in the second half of the evening had been addicted to anything. Or maybe everything had gone to plan but anyone who had been cured had just thought that the relaxing feeling they were experiencing was just because of food and good conversation.

After the restaurant closed John whistled all the way home, and thought about Fanta. He hoped she would call him soon.

John was still whistling when he got home, and continued to whistle while he made some toast. D’arby soon appeared in the kitchen, looking annoyed because John had woken him up.

“Why are you whistling? I’m trying to sleep” said D’arby

“Want some toast?” asked John

“You were trying to wake me up, weren’t you?” said D’arby

“Yep” answered John and crunched into his toast.

“What happened then?” said D’arby and sighed.

“She came to the restaurant” said John

“Is that all?” asked D’arby “Will you let me sleep now?”

“No, it isn’t all. She took my phone number” said John, with a satisfied smile

“Why didn’t you get hers?” asked D’arby

“She didn’t want to give it to me” said John

“That’s not good. She probably only took your number to be polite and then threw it in the bin” said D’arby.

“Oh” said John. D’arby went back to bed.

John unfolded his sofa bed and sat on it, while staring at the floor and trying to work out whether Fanta really had seemed interested in him or was just being polite.


Needing Someone For Emotional Reassurance Can Be Dangerous

I’m going mad!  I need some advice, quick!

I have just started going out with a guy who I’m really into.  I thought he was really into me too, but now he’s stopped sending me messages and I haven’t heard from him in 4 days!!  Our last communication was him asking if I wanted to hang out with him on the weekend.  But because I had already made plans, I replied to him that I couldn’t, but that I would love to see him as soon as I could because I was really missing him.  He never replied, and I haven’t heard from him since.  He hasn’t even been on Facebook much this week.  Usually he updates his status every day.

I can’t shake this feeling that something is wrong.  I’m convinced that he is angry or upset or bored with me, or that he never really cared much for me in the first place, and he has met someone else that he likes better.  I feel like I’ve stuffed it up somehow by turning him down, or that he thinks I’m desperate because I told him I wanted to see him “as soon as I could”.

What can I do?  I desperately need to know what he’s thinking.  I have this uncontrollable urge to call him and explain, but I don’t want to look needy and make it even worse if he is already angry with me. Please help me!

What’s the urgency? Why are you so desperate? What is it that you think you need to do?  Even if you had upset him in some way, how do you expect to fix it? Do you think that by calling him and re-telling him what you have already said, or by gushing at him with an apology, it is going to make it any better? If something so small can cause him to feel any differently about you, then obviously he didn’t really fully appreciate you in the first place.  If this is the case, take it as a blessing in disguise to find this out now, and accept it before you get any more involved with him. No matter what you do, you can’t really make someone like you any more or any less.

It seems more likely to me that he is busy, and waiting for a suitable opportunity to ask you out again.  Very few men like to check-in with females they don’t know very well unless there is some real reason to.  He won’t want to look unsure of himself if he is trying to impress you. It makes more sense for him to be sure of his plan before he presents it to you.

Of course, all men are different when it comes to how frequently they like to keep in touch.  You may be comparing this one to another one who would call you every day just to see how you’re going.  This may be what you need for your own reassurance that he still cares or hasn’t forgotten you.  But just because one man has done this in the past, doesn’t mean that all men will, or that if he doesn’t it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care.   It hasn’t even been a week.  I think that is far too soon for you to be jumping to the sorts of conclusions that you are tormenting yourself with.

Rather than obsessing over his possible reasons for not contacting you, maybe you need to examine your own motives for needing  so desperately to hear from him.  There are no rules about how long to wait.  Everyone and every situation is different, but I strongly recommend that you refrain from contacting him until you are calmer.  It would be foolish to risk creating a tense situation unnecessarily. You could be creating this whole drama out of nothing and your desperation might scare or confuse him.  Remind yourself that there is nothing you can do, and nothing to fix.  Leave it alone and trust in the outcome, whatever that may be.

Better not to contact him until your only reason to contact him is because you enjoy his company.  Needing someone for emotional reassurance can be dangerous.

The Spark.

 

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The Inklings: Chapter 11


Mamadou sat in the sun, watching more people arrive. He wished he’d been able to bring his paints and brushes and some canvas. He wanted to paint the relief he saw on the faces of the new arrivals when they made it to a place which would seem like some kind of hell to anyone who hadn’t just been somewhere worse.

Mamadou wouldn’t have been there at all if he hadn’t climbed the tree to see what was going on in the village. From the tree he saw the village being invaded by a group of ugly young men.

It was well accepted by Mamadou’s ethnic group that they were better looking and cleverer than the other dominant ethnic group in the country and so when he saw that the invaders were all ugly he had an idea of what was going on.

Mamadou expected that the ugly invaders would punch the men of his village a few times (as a demonstration of their superior power) and then leave but what happened was so much worse. Mamadou was shocked at the ferocity of the attack. The village men, then the women and then the children were bashed, whacked and chopped using an assortment of improvised weapons. The only survivors were those who weren’t found – Mamadou because he was up a tree, a teenage boy called Saidou who had been out searching for a lost cow and a woman called Howa with a small baby strapped to her back who had been out collecting medicinal bark. Everyone else had been sticking close to the village, which was what they normally did during the wet season.

The guilt that Mamadou now felt was incredible. Although he knew that if he had tried to help he couldn’t have prevented what had happened, he would rather have been down in the village to be killed with everyone else than be alive, having watched but not done anything. Every might since then he’d had dreams where he’d see injured people still breathing and he’d be walking away, leaving them to die.

After the attack Mamadou had rushed to check everyone, hoping to find signs of life but had found none. It was only the return of Howa and Saidou that kept him from collapsing.

Howa quickly became hysterical when she returned and Mamadou had only just managed to calm her down and begin explaining what he’d seen when Saidou returned with his cow.

Howa had lost her husband and her two eldest children. Her husband’s brothers and their families had also been killed.

Saidou had lost his mother and sisters. His father and two older brothers were fortunately away.

Overall, 45 villagers had been killed. They weren’t Mamadou’s relatives but he considered them to be his family because he was closer to them than he was to his own brothers and sisters, who all lived overseas.

Saidou insisted that they leave the village. He wanted to go and find his father and brothers. Saidou’s distress was showing itself as anger and Mamadou suspected that Saidou was planning for revenge.

Howa didn’t want to leave the bodies of her husband and children. Mamadou didn’t think they should leave either. He felt their duty was to bury the dead in the proper way (although he knew that it was going to be impossible for them on their own).

Saidou eventually managed to convince Mamadou and Howa to leave by pointing out that they needed help and that his father and brothers would be able to organize it.

Secretly they were all also scared of staying.

So, they all set out towards the town where Saidou’s father and brothers were. The walk was many kilometres, but they hoped they would be able to return with help before sunset.

It was now weeks later. They were all in a refugee camp across the border and Mamadou didn’t see how any of them would ever return to their village.

Although Mamadou wished he’d known he should bring his painting supplies with him he was glad that they hadn’t known of the extent of the attacks when they left their village looking for help. He didn’t know how he would have been able to decide what to do if he’d known what was really going on.

It was only when they reached the town that they started to realize that it wasn’t just their village that had been targeted, but their whole ethnic group.

 


Lost In The Zone Of Creative Bliss

My daughter’s piano teacher recently told me that my daughter has talent but won’t reach her potential unless she practices more. When I talked to my daughter about this she said that when she plays well it isn’t really her. She thinks she is visited by some sort of spirit and because she thinks it isn’t really her playing the piano she doesn’t see how practicing will make her any better. What can I do to make her practice?

It sounds very much to me like your daughter has a spark.  By this, I mean that your daughter is not imagining these visits or making up silly stories to get out of practicing the piano, but that she probably really is a spark-receptive human being, and receives visits from one or more sparks who love to play music through her.  No need for alarm.  Musical sparks are usually quite harmless and nice to have around.  The only real danger is when the human ego attempts to own the inspirational energy that the spark transmits.  All sorts of problems arise when the human is seduced by the illusion that they are in fact a genius, when all they are is a receptor of spark energy who through their physical form, allows the spark to manifest a whim.

Your daughter appears to be aware of the true nature of these visits, which is often the case with children who are generally more perceptive of present-moment realities than adults are.

Addressing your question, you and your daughter’s music teacher are probably well aware that practice is an essential part of developing musical technique, as it is with almost any other creative, inventive, analytical or athletic activity. But technique is not everything.  Music, like most creative outlets, requires the performer to have technique, feeling/passion, and inspiration to have much of an impact on the audience.  All 3 elements are necessary and should complement each other.  Too much or too little of any of them is the difference between mere technical capability, mad ravings, a good idea, or creative brilliance which occurs when the balance is right and the elements are working in harmony.

Technique, as you know, is the repetitive, disciplined element which the artist must develop for themselves through practice and finely tuned perception to detail.  This discipline when directed into a creative channel is what gives the artist a perfectionistic edge.  However when this discipline is not employed in a worthwhile passion, it can so easily become wasted on mundane obsessions. Then it becomes a nuisance and is often recognized as a social disorder such as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.  Technique is the language used by artists to communicate with the audience.  The more fluent the artist is technically, the clearer the voice, the better the communication, and the more likely the message is to be understood or to have an impact on more people.

Feeling or Passion is the intensity with which the artist feels what it is they are trying to express.  The ability to feel and to let oneself be affected by pain, joy, fear, excitement etc, is mostly a genetic trait that a human may be born with, and is often considered, in general day to day life, to be a vulnerability which is best kept hidden.  With creative outlets, however, passion communicates on a deeper level where it can reach people’s hidden vulnerabilities, and move an audience by stirring up their emotional (endorphin induced) responses.  Passion, however, without technique, will come across as messy and confusing. Passionate, hypersensitive people are the most receptive to sparks.

Inspiration is the spark.  It is the message, the idea, the concept or the experience planted by the spark into the fertile tissue of the imagination, which the artist then needs to capture.  It is the moment of impact when things ‘click’ and make sense, or it may be a moment that hits deeply and needs to be expressed.  Or it may be more mysterious than that.  Like a vision, melody or poem that materializes out of nowhere.  It could simply be an exclamation of joy at the discovery of something immensely beautiful, fascinating or captivating. It is the message that the artist receives or experiences and the inexplicable energy and momentum that takes over as the artist captures whatever it is that needs to be created.

Oh dear, I’m getting carried away.  Examining the miracle of inspiration is the closest a spark can feel to emotion.  If I had eyes, they would be weeping with joy.

Getting back to your daughter…  I think it would be wise to explain to her the workings of the spark.  Have a read first of Who Is The Spark on this blog’s homepage so you are better able to answer the questions that your daughter is sure to ask.  It’s important that you warn her to keep her discovery quiet, since she can’t expect non spark-receptive humans to understand or believe that she has a spark.  Telling people may cause her to be ridiculed and marginalized, and there is no need for anyone else to know.

Hopefully she has the discipline required to develop her musical voice technically, and you may need to remind her how crucial technique is to effectively communicate music, even if it may seem unimportant and boring when she is lost in the zone of creative bliss.

The Spark.

 

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The Inklings: Chapter 10

John met his father at the pizza place in the morning. John had hoped that his father would quickly show him where things were and leave, so he could call D’arby to come and help, but strangely John’s father seemed to want to give John as much help as he could and by the time John could call D’arby to tell him that the coast was clear, John’s father had already explained everything. There were good systems in place for ordering ingredients, preparing food, cleaning, staffing and even washing the table cloths. John didn’t think there was much for him to do after all. He could hardly believe that things were going so well. The only problem he could see was that the turnover was already so high. John didn’t see how the restaurant had capacity to make and sell any more pizzas.

That night, while John and D’arby watched over the restaurant, John asked D’arby “How are we going to make more money than the restaurant already does?”

D’arby laughed. “Did your Dad say it had to be a statistically significant increase in profits? Did he say that profits had to increase above the average monthly profit, last month’s profit, or the profit for the same month last year? Did he say the profit had to increase through increased sales? As long as we make five cents more than whatever he was expecting then you can say you have met the challenge” answered D’arby. “If we don’t sell more pizza, we can just decrease your salary.”

“Fair enough” said John, while thinking that he’d better ask D’arby to write down what he had just said.

The next day as John walked to the pizza place, something strange happened to him, something that would make him high all night.

When he got back to D’arby’s flat after work John knew that D’arby would be asleep but he didn’t care. He had to tell D’arby what had happened to him that day, so he shook D’arby until he woke up.

“What is it?” said D’arby. He thought that something terrible must have happened. “Have the police come to get you? Did you burn the restaurant down?”

“Ha ha. No! Something WONDERFUL happened. I have to tell you about it” said John and he started to dance around the room with his arms floating up and down.

“What have you taken? Are you drunk?” asked D’arby. He was really disappointed.

“No! I just saw something wonderful on the way to work”

“What?” asked D’arby, although he still didn’t believe that John was sober.

“A beautiful woman” said John

“Haven’t you ever seen one before?” asked D’arby. He was really annoyed, but still not sure what was going on.

“Not like this…but that’s not the important part” said John

“What is the important part then?” asked D’arby, and he sighed.

“She looked at me. She looked at me like I was a normal person, and she smiled!” said John

“Great!” said D’arby sarcastically. “Good for you. Now go to sleep. I’m tired” and he turned off the light.

The next morning John still hadn’t calmed down. When D’arby got up he found that John had cleaned the kitchen and was ironing clothes on the carpet.

“Why are you doing that?” asked D’arby. D’arby had a thing against ironing and he hadn’t even known that there was an iron in the flat.

“You don’t have an ironing board, so I have to use the carpet” said John, but when he saw D’arby’s expression he realized he’d given the wrong answer and quickly added “I’m trying to fill in time until the medical centre opens”

“Why are you going there?” asked D’arby

“I want to check that I haven’t got any STDs before I bump into that woman again” said John. Although John tried to sound casual as he said this, he was very worried. The thought of a relationship with someone had made him consider what he’d been up to while he was an addict.

D’arby knew that this was a very serious topic, but he couldn’t help laughing.

“What?” asked John

“Have you talked to her yet?” asked D’arby

“Not yet” said John, “But I might today if I see her on the way to work again”

“Good luck then, with her and at the medical centre” said D’arby and he left for uni, rolling his eyes.

 


Only you can relieve your own distress

I am worried about my brother.  He is married to a successful business women who has a very demanding career, and who I suspect is an alcoholic.  They have two primary school-aged daughters, that I am also very concerned about.  It has become obvious to me and to others that their relationship has deteriorated significantly over the last year or two, and I would say that my sister-in-law’s drinking plays a major role in their marital problems.

My brother is a very stoic, introverted man who tends not to be very forthright with his feelings or problems, so you can imagine how difficult it would be for him to discuss problems with his marriage or to seek help or support.  I have tried to bring it up with him a few times, indirectly, by asking how everything is going for him now that his wife’s company is expanding and she is under more pressure with work.  Although he always reassures me that everything is fine, I know my brother well enough to see how unhappy he is, and it hurts me to have to watch him suffering with the burden of trying to maintain appearances and hold it all together.  

Every time I see my brother lately he looks more and more withdrawn and tense.  My sister-in-law’s behavior at family get-togethers is becoming appalling.  She is often drunk or has been drinking when she arrives and almost always causes some sort of scene which I’m sure is very distressing and embarrassing to my brother and his daughters.  I feel out of place to intervene and rescue them, but I feel more and more distressed by what I see that I’m finding it impossible to ignore it or to allow it to continue. As a sister and aunt to my nieces, I feel I have a responsibility to care for their well-being.  What would be the most reasonable thing I can do to improve this situation?

Your concern appears to be reasonable, and your intentions are well-meaning.  Your distress is real to you, and you can’t ignore it.  You also have a right to express it.  The important detail here is the “how” you go about dealing with your own distress, because as painful as it is for you to have to witness, you can do nothing to relieve your brother or niece’s distress or unhappiness.  Only they can do that for themselves.  This may seem heartless and cruel, but anything else is delusional.  You cannot save them if they are not willing to be helped, and you cannot convince anybody that they need your help until they acknowledge and accept that they have a problem.

Having said that, I don’t suggest that you turn your back on your brother and let him sort it out for himself.  You have a right to let your brother know how you feel as a sister and an aunt, and to offer your brother a non-judgmental ear that will be them for him whenever he should need it, and leave it at that.  It is important that this offering be laid, humbly at his feet and not forced aggressively into his hands.  Do not give him an extra weight to carry, or attack him with the blame of your own distress.  You are offering him as safe place to seek refuge and support.  You are not offering him solutions, lectures, or favors. Whatever he chooses to do with this offering is not your responsibility, and if he chooses to leave it there for the time being, then respect that.  He will know that it is there and will seek it when he feels able to.

Be as honest and sincere as possible.  Show him your genuine love and concern, don’t tip-toe around sensitive facts, be direct, and most importantly be patient.  Only you can relieve you own distress.

The Spark

 

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