Life – Page 15 – Anélemc's Writing

Posted on March 25, 2013March 25, 2013 by Anelemc

The Christian thing to do…

At one time, I thought being a part of a church would lead to spiritual growth.

At one time, I thought parishioners cared about the health and well-being of one another.

At one time, I thought attending services would lead to understanding and deeper appreciation of the Holy Scriptures.

I thought wrong.

Just because one is, a Christian does not automatically make them one and then again, my definition on what a Christian should be is just that, my definition. My Christianity or what I believe defines me as one, are based on my own experiences and interactions within the church. No two experiences are similar, nor are scripture interpretations, prayers said, if at all, after communion, or what hat is appropriate for Easter. Christianity is a self-thing not communal as I once thought, which, proved to be wrong as well.

The Ten Commandments are a Christians’ guide to living life, but what one perceives as coveted could be another’s’ striving to attain the American dream. (Although the six room mansion with an indoor pool and marble bathroom is a bit much). If we truly loved one another, we would put forth the love we’d like to receive and not bear false witness with gossiping, lying, and acting incredibly cruel because we can. We would not cheat, murder (squashing an idea before it has roots is murder of the mind kind), or say, “OMG” at the slightest impulse or adulation of whatever.

Lessons I rather not learn are learnt.

Christians or parishioners are not the apostles, nor is the preacher, Jesus or God.

At one time, I thought, at least at my church, we, the parishioners were to mimic the apostles in spreading the good word and treating each other with love and kindness, as Jesus taught.

At one time, I thought the priest, preacher, rector or whatever the correct pc title is, were the instruments of God and through Jesus’ life and preaching would lead by example.

I thought wrong.

What I find are parishioners who are mean, afraid and quite frankly, lost. What I find is conflict and abusiveness with the leadership. What I find is a person, me, who once so adored her church, torn with a lack of trust in what is said and done. Well, what is said and not done or what should be said and done or not doing or saying anything at all.

I don’t know if I am the Christian I would like to be. It is hard to tear away the layers and see the truth that maybe in some way I am like those whom I criticize. Worse, is seeing the truth and not knowing what to do with it.

Transitions continue, welcomed or not, bearing good news or showing up the ugly truths.

Instead of participating in this Lenten season, I find quietness, comfort and solace within my Forward Movement, at home with a bag of Frito lays.

Posted on February 27, 2013March 26, 2013 by Anelemc

Compassion…

Compassion is that which makes the heart of the good move at the pain of others. It crushes and destroys the pain of others; thus, it is called compassion. It is called compassion because it shelters and embraces the distressed. – The Buddha.

Practicing compassion on a daily basis is not easy and at times I wonder if it will ever be. I would like the practice of compassion to be infused within my being so it becomes like breathing -done without much thought, except when I inhale someone’s disgusting cigarette smoke.

But, every day experiences or situations where compassion is most needed, at times, is almost impossible to produce.

Situations like:

1. Dealing with emotional bats, otherwise known as emotional vampires-those lovely people who literally suck the marrow outta ya then fill the crevices with their overbearing problems. I prefer to use the term emotional leeches for literary visual impact. Bats are pretty cute while leeches, (those crafty blood suckers) are flat-out UGLY!

2. Viewing yet another rape crime on the media and plotting with friends on how to introduce legislation that allows male castration as a form of punishment or better yet castration with a dose of Frank’s hot sauce after the procedure. Yes, compassion is not available at this time, only revenge on the p***s kind…now, what if the perp is a woman…?

Yes, the examples are not nice but that’s the irony of compassion-it’s not meant to be utilized solely for the feely good things, the charities, the Hurricane survivors, the down on their luck person, etc.

For me, compassion does come easy when the situations or events fall under the feely good things. It flows endlessly, no questions pondered or second thoughts. But, place in front of me a complainer, an agitator, a supervisor who uses me to do his work while he sits in his office and watches movies on his NOOK, neglected animals at the hands of neglected humans, verbal bullies who hurt emotionally with words…this can go, but it stops here, and my compassion which normally resides in mi alma has conveniently moved to my foot.

Yes, the complainer may have painful things going on inside, the agitator may be acting from pain, the supervisor…well…the supervisor may feel his work is inferior and therefore engages in movie viewing on the job (while raking in a big salary) to pacify his deflated ego and now my compassion has moved from my foot to my stomach.

My meditation practice of Tibetan Buddhism centers on compassion, which is essential towards enlightenment. In order to put forth compassion unto others, I must first have compassion towards myself. There are a few things about me that do not permit my compassion. I can be a complainer, an agitator but not one who watches movies at work or neglects animals or bullies with words. If I disdain those traits in others, how do I deal with them within myself?

Right now, I read, I try to practice and hopefully in due time a teacher will find me and gently lead me on the correct path towards compassion.

**photos taken off the internet

Posted on February 12, 2013February 12, 2013 by Anelemc

Those who are full of themselves…

Full of themselves-to be full of oneself or one’s own importance-Word Reference

Those who are full of Themselves:

-are downright annoying if you are stuck in the company of one

– will make you meditate to Buddha for loving/kindness and throw in a prayer to the One and only if you are stuck in the company of two or more!

-are self-righteous and love to sit on imaginary pedestals of grandeur as the ‘ordinaries’ muddle about at their feet

– are the cause of severe trauma to the mind and ears for the mind will strain to dissect through the verbal bull and the ears will develop extra wax to block out the irritating shrill of their voice (this has yet to happen to me, but I thought I’d put it out there)

Those who are Full of themselves:

-believe they are the only ones who have talent of any kind

-believe the world centers on and revolves around their schedules, thoughts, needs, wants…

-believe their way is the way, the only way and the ONE’s way needs major adjusting

-believe they are the cream of nectar, do not smell and can wear the same underwear for days on end (not necessarily true, but who cares?)

Those who are full of them Selves:

-may lack self worth

-may be insecure in the most unhealthy way

-may be full of them selves due to the fullness of past abuse endured

-may NEED the most compassion, understanding and patience from a person who is not full of them selves can give

Posted on January 31, 2013December 31, 2013 by Anelemc · 4 Comments

At this moment…

January 30, 2013

At this moment, I find myself in the midst of transitions of the most unexpected and most gentle kind.

At this moment, I overheard mom talking to her half-sister over the phone. Another McCalla, Victor McCalla, my mother’s brother died. Death is usually the only reason a McCalla would contact another McCalla. The drama of he said, she said and there will be no burial, cremation, and the ashes will sit on the living room shelf until someone goes to Honduras mantra starts after the death announcement.

If I remained a Walsh, my reaction to this news, the mantra not the death, would be comic relief but since I became a McCalla my reaction to the mantra remains, trying not to react. I always cry at the news of death.

Mom’s side of the family is dysfunctional and I believe Webster honoured them with the definition. Mom’s family is also large. Out of ten children, only four are presently alive and only two communicate maybe once a year. Two are on the east coast, two on the west and east does not speak to west.

All the McCalla’s (except me…sigh) were born in Honduras, when Belize was British Honduras. Some were born in Tela, others in Roatan while La Ceiba claimed another. Some were born with Indian hair soft as silk, while others had coarse wavy hair that refused taming with VO5, while yet others had the kinky cotton kind of hair which only a lye relaxer could control. The relaxer ruined the hair passed down from their ancestors. The hair from Africa by way of Akan, Bantu, Igbo, Fon or possibly Yoruba, way before Scotland via Jamaica than onto Honduras and mixed with a bit of India saturated the blood.

Mi Tío could not stand his African hair. He could not stand his last name either and changed it to Mangroo. It sounded more Indian, which he longed to look like but did not.

His kidneys could not stand his body for they failed. His weekly battle with the dialysis machine was just that, man against machine and of course, the machine was in control. As the machine cleansed his blood of waste, it also cleansed his alma (soul) leaving it bitter and in disarray.

Was I close to my uncle?

No.

I did not like him. He favoured my light-skinned sisters with Spanish lessons and his version of Indian history. He was mean to me and spoke harshly to me and about me. He once accused my mom of jealousy towards her sister’s kids, for they were born with the wavy hair that refused taming with VO5. I was born with the kinky cotton kind of hair which mom coated with lye relaxer to control.

I hope my uncle, mi tío, is in a better place now. A place where there are no dialysis machines, where he does not have to endure living in his house with an ex-wife and her boyfriend because he refuses to sell and pay off the ex, where skin colour has no meaning and speaking Spanish is irrelevant. I hope the angels are soothing his soul or that karma will take pity on him when he returns.

Once, I could not stand my African hair and yearned to look Indian like my mother with her Indian features and Indian hair, soft as silk. But, God gave me what I was born with for a reason and I am grateful for his gentle everyday reminder of who I am and where I come from.

Posted on January 29, 2013January 29, 2013 by Anelemc

Transitions

Transition-The process or a period of changing from one state or condition to another

I am currently in the forever process of searching for a new job.

Forever, because it is going on two years now and I remain employed at a MICA (Mentally Ill Chemical Abusers) shelter run by a non-profit of the most horrific kind. Shelter culture is not a nice culture to be a part of for both residents and staff. The stress of emotional pain and anger encountered Monday through Friday, eight hours a day, mixed in with drug addiction is taxing on the body (residents) and grinds down the part of the heart, which once held compassion (staff). Needless to say, in response to my frayed nerves and too many glasses of wine after work, countless resumes flow through my email account on a daily basis to prospective employers.

Of course, I receive countless replies in the form of- NO RESPONSE.

Although, hopeful at first, I no longer anticipate an invite for an interview but, my finger continues to tap the ‘send’ button’ with resume attachment in tow.

But one day

A reply came in…

The position was for an administrative assistant at the Brooklyn museum. The museum of my childhood! Excellent location, near the library and Prospect Park and I could walk to work and run home for lunch. The duties entailed bookkeeping, basic office manager with a great starting salary.

The interview

The interview took place over the phone but headed towards the resume dumped in the trash bin direction, once I opened my mouth. The director of the department hiring began the interview with the generic asinine, “Why is the position of interest to you?”, question which I find insulting to any person with a functioning brain.

My response, “Because of the growth opportunities”.

“What do you mean by growth? Are you using this position to get your foot in the door then transfer to another department?”

“Um no”.

“This is an administrative job with the same duties performed on a daily basis. There is no growth. Let me look at your resume.”

As I heard her flipping through pages, I thought, ‘Didn’t the idiot read my resume before calling?’

The director returned to the phone.

“You’re over qualified for this position. You will be bored.”

Needless to say, the conversation went no further.

“Thanks for the interview”, I said and quietly hung up the phone receiver.

Bored?

Did she just say bored?

This phrase ruminated throughout my brain for the next two days as well as every feminine curse word aimed at this faceless director who had allot of nerve assuming I’d be bored with a dumb administrative assistant position at an over caddy presumptuous Brooklyn museum.

She was right.

For the past fourteen years, I have worked as an administrative assistant, with a three year hiatus as a NYC public school special education teacher, and to be honest, found admin work, BORING- usually after a month on the job.

This interviewer, whom I perceived as harsh, was in fact insightful. The message delivered in a non-pleasing way delivered and thankfully, after the steam stopped seeping from my angry brain, I was able to see truth through the
vapours.

I am presently researching prospects and no longer send out resumes for administrative work. I am now in the midst of a transition.

Posted on January 15, 2013 by Anelemc

Stuck in a Rut

If I had control of my own universe, of course with the blessings and guidance of the ONE and only, I’d:

-Go back to school and become a Vet Tech.

-Quit my day job and stay at home writing in my office or in the neighbourhood Starbucks

-Drink endless amounts of coffee and mocha thingys while writing at Starbucks

-Hit the local library to write with water bottle in tow when the money runs low or I develop heart palpitations from the coffee (which ever comes first).

-Practice four to six hours on my spinet then relax in smug satisfaction knowing, come Sunday my teacher would not have one word of criticism.

-Sip Cabernet while munching on Weight Watchers cheese after lessons on Sunday in celebration of my teacher’s endless praise.

-Read the entire New York Times weekender and the advertisements and clip out the coupons.

-Become a coupon fanatic and turn fifty dollars of groceries into twenty from all the coupon savings and the two for one’rs.

-Attempt to braid my hair and paint my toenails hot pink and not necessarily in that order.

-Give up Facebook…well…

-Spend less time on Facebook.

-Experiment with cooking.

-Experiment with cooking using the twenty dollars’ worth of groceries from my savings.

-Attend all the freebee things in Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens and the Bronx. Not Staten Island, too far a drive.

-Daydream with no time limit, sleep all day and party like a rock star at night as long as I’m in bed by nine and up at five.

-Groom the boys the old fashion way.

-Learn to bandage the bites from the boys received during grooming.

This is what runs through my brain when I’m stuck in a rut.

Posted on January 11, 2013January 12, 2013 by Anelemc · 2 Comments

2013

2013 arrived and was not greeted with the usual resolutions such as those made in 2012:

Lose weight

Limit alcohol intake

Penguin run – frequently and on a schedule

Living situation-Move out

Change job or get a better job with better location and better pay

The resolutions of 2012 are now discarded. The New Year of 2013 came at midnight when the clock struck twelve and casted the resolutions of the old into an ‘unresolved’ imaginary bin stored in the back of my brain.

But, the consequence of making those resolutions in 2012 were severe:

Instead of losing weight I gained ten more pounds

Alcohol –a lil bit more instead of a lil bit less

Penguin run-what is that again?

Living situation-the move out turned into the barely living, drowning in frustration at my financial inability to move out

Same job and definitely no better location and no raise let alone a Christmas bonus

This year, with the new, New Year approaching, instead of the usual in my bed by 10pm sleep induced reception, I was awake. And no, I did not watch the dreadful ball drop on TV for it triggers memories of a New Year’s past in which my butt was fondled and molested in the melee of a crowd gone wild while watching the old ball (sans the 2,688 Waterford crystal triangles) drop live and in person in the pre-Giuliani Times Square.

But, this year there are no resolutions.

Attempting to construct resolutions for 2013 may be good in keeping with the spirit of the New Year thingy but if 2012’s resolution results are an indication of what will come, I think I’ll pass this year. There’s no need to go through the ‘unresolved’ feelings of disappointment at not meeting impossible expectations. No point in shoving the disappointment into my brain where it will stagnate and fester turning into the unrequited resolve of the resolutions. And no, the toxicity of that mess will not migrate to mi alma (my soul) for clutter and suffocation are not allowed to reside there, only torment, bliss and friction of every emotional kind.

Instead of resolutions, I welcome subtle and easy changes towards achieving goals. Subtle, like breathing in and out and so easy as in not having to think too much about the process itself.

The subtle and easy changes require a difference each day in the way I think and do things. All things, from putting on my socks (left first instead of right) to the amount of pep milk (a little one day, a lot the next) in my coffee. I will take a slightly different route while walking the street, like walking on the opposite side of the streets I walk down.

My subtle and easy approach towards tackling larger goals will bring results.

Some of the goals I’ve set in motion involve learning and practicing meditation, consuming less meat and enrolling in a running program. Subtle and easy. Attending meditative classes, abstaining from meat until the weekends, running with a group instead of alone-just doing those little things which are subtle and so easy will lead me to obtainable goals.

Posted on December 31, 2012 by Anelemc

2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,200 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 5 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

Posted on December 10, 2012December 10, 2012 by Anelemc

What’s a girl to do while her writing mojo’s on sabbatical…?

PROCRASTINATE

Surf on the net-gangland style with no direction or time limit or until eyes glaze over

Score and reach higher levels in Angry Birds

Chew my nails then wonder why they won’t grow

Stare into space

Pretend to meditate as I stare into space

Catch up on educational reading…People Magazine, AARP, Geico Newsletter, AAA magazines, ehow.com

Commit to doing 100 sit-ups, lie on a mat on the floor, then fall asleep before the 1^st sit up is completed

Watch six hours of a Law and Order SVU marathon

Continue to watch an extra six hours of a Law and Order Criminal Intent marathon discovered on another network while channel grazing

Eat a bag of Lay’s potato chips

Eat the second bag of Lay’s potato chips bought to go with tomorrow’s lunch

Eat sunflower seeds, endlessly, consume the sunflower seeds

Asia

Attempt to read every book written by James Clavell

Tibetan Buddhism

Attempt to read every book written by the Dalai Lama

Daydreaming, daydreaming, afternoon dreaming, night dreaming…

Anxiously await Monday

Anxiously await Monday and go to work

Stay late at work

Seriously consider psychotherapy, maybe electroshock or scream therapy…

PROCRASTINATE some more

Posted on November 25, 2012November 26, 2012 by Anelemc

Dreaming is not always free…

The symbols for various dynamic markings (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I began piano lessons four years ago and bought my first piano, a $500 digital weighted keyboard which endured and occasionally continues to endure the wrath of my practicing. Alas, infatuation with the digital, but not the lessons, evaporated as my skills increased. A digital keyboard sound is electronic, a reproduction of a pre-recorded acoustic piano sound. A digital piano with its lack of hammers and strings does not produce the tonality, forte and passimo as well as sustain or fading notes found on an acoustic.

I moved on up…piano wise.

The acoustic spinet, once neglected but now attention riddled was my next purchase. Bought in a dilapidated piano warehouse in Brooklyn, the spinet was chosen from among the endless rows of others in various stages of disrepair-some physically pronounced. My piano teacher at the time approved her worthiness and $1,800.00 (including delivery) of blood, sweat and tears money earned went into the dealer’s pocket.

Baldwin Acrosonic was her name and out of tune, she would remain, until two weeks later, in my living room, now situated, now regulated.

For three years, we carried on in ignorant bliss. My pounding forte fingers, her gentle response, my fingers running scales and chords with crescendos, her gentle response, my delicate pianissimo fingers, and her nothingness response. Our relationship, strong at the beginning, now schlepped along, dwindling, unfolding into nothingness, like a rolling ball of yarn.

I, long to move on up…piano wise.

It’s not possible nor is it happening anytime soon. Finances and space prevent the headfirst dive into the world of the “GRAND PIANO”. The elusive Estonia my fingers want to touch, the dreaded and over rated Steinway, the Bosendorfer, Grotrian-there must be German in my blood, and the low tier Hailun which should be affordable but not affordable for me are visions of love and lust resting in a dreams of hope.

The hope of one day acquiring the chosen “grand” to sit in my living room, moving in as the neglected spinet moves out, is a costly dream.