Just Thinking

Perfect. However you slice or dice it, the concept of perfection is relative. I doubt that many people share my idea of what perfection is or anyone’s idea of what perfection is for that matter but on some level, we all yearn for perfection - an ideal place or set of events or circumstances. We yearn, work, strive, grow and stretch to get some piece of that ideal for ourselves and the ones we love. Sometimes it appears we succeed, sometimes not. Yet we keep working, striving and stretching in the famed “rat race”. Today it occurred to me. What if perfection is elusive by design? What if this life, this world, this planet was designed to remain fraught with imperfection on purpose so that we hope and strive always for a more eternal ideal? Beauty. Is universal or maybe it is in the eyes of the beholder. This as well, all is relative. I could, for example, write a laundry list of the things that are wrong with my face, body, the length of my legs, the width of my hip

I am going to start this post with an announcement. I have a stalker! 😕😕 I guess that means I am officially a celebrity right? Who knows, there may be paparazzi outside by bedroom window hoping to catch a glimpse of my fair face as I type this post. While we are on the subject,  what do you do when you have a stalker? Call the Police? Call your Pastor? O r go and wash your head at some shrine? Pray tell, as a part of me is panicking. Now unto the post itself. This post has been long in the making. I have been thinking a lot about authenticity as a trait and pathway to success.  You see, success in my opinion, is an ephemeral concept which does not always justify the effort which goes into its attainment. My personal pursuit of success has led to get two degrees ( I'm working on the third ), countless certifications and short courses (I'm a fan of LinkedIn Learning), roles across different industries and companies - 5 different companies in 12 years - and life choices

I was lost. I knew I was lost. The darkness around me felt like a physical presence wrapping itself around me, enveloping me and pulling me downwards. My body seemed to melt into it. I tentatively reached out my hands hoping to connect with a surface or an object.. anything really but there was nothing and nothingness. I felt like I was falling but not quite. My head felt fuzzy, my legs felt like air and I could not feel myself breathe. I tried to cast my mind back, to try to mentally retrace my steps, how did I get here? What happened? Was I dead? Is this what death felt like? Should I be "walking into the light?" or worse still, why was there no light? Was I in hell or on my way to hell? I was not quite sure, the darkness made it difficult to think, to focus on one thought long enough to make sense of it or to remember anything before. My thoughts seemed to float in and out of my mind like children playing tag. I let myself slide and stopped trying to prevent th

Yea, I said it! I am asking all workaholics to come out of the closet!! If you read the title of this post and immediately thought, I am not a workaholic, then you most probably are so please read on. I have designed a five question survey using my patented, very unscientific process to prove to you and everyone who reads this post that we are all indeed workaholics.   If you answer yes to more than one of the questions below then no doubt you are most definitely a workaholic. Do you constantly feel sleep deprived? Or worse, believe 4 hours of sleep per night is normal? Do you have one or two recovery strategies for sleep deprivation (coffee, tea, coca cola, yoga or a cold shower)? Do you randomly remember things you need to do for work when eating, sleeping, hanging out with friends or getting laid? Do you get pissed off when you don't finish your to do list? Are you laughing and nodding right now? Yup! Its confirmed, you are indeed a workaholic. Congratulations! You w

Last night while "admiring" the spots on my face, I was struck with how impatience teaches us patience. Let me explain. I am light skinned and from time to time because of junk food, stress or hormonal changes, I break out (i.e. I get Pimples). Now, I absolutely hate those tiny imperfections on my otherwise gorgeous face but I know that picking at them will leave a little red blotch which will turn to a dark spot and then take forever to fade. But what do I do? I pick at them anyway, till they are bleeding and sore. After a day or so, I notice the dark spot and begin sending up silent prayers before my vanity mirror for the spots to fade. With a little patience, the pimple typically, would have dried up and disappeared on its own but impatience leaves me with spots and scars. Scars are mementos that hasty decisions leave on our lives.  We could glance at our lives and send up silent prayers wishing them away but we usually have a long wait ahead of us until they

All my life, I have always thought more about being a woman than I thought about being Black/African. Up until not very long ago, when I thought about discrimination, gender, not race, came to mind. This is not to say I did not watch Roots as a child, but race issues previously felt distant and foreign. Before I go further, let me clarify, I am African, born and raised on the continent. Some people would call my complexion honey brown, but I am black by the general definition . The problem, however, is that when I considered equality, I did not consider the color of my skin as much of a problem as my possession of a uterus. I was used to being the only female or one of the few. 10% of my computer science class were females, in all the roles I held I was the only or first female on the team and so on. All this changed a couple of months ago when I had an interesting conversation with an Australian colleague.  We were at a work function doing one of those ice breaker exercises, bef