Is being guarded so wrong?

Even though you may want to move forward in life, you may have one foot on the brakes. In order to be free, we must learn how to let go. Release the hurt. Release the fear. Refuse to entertain your old pain. The energy it takes to hang onto the past is holding you back from a new life.  

~Mary Manin Morrisey~

There are some days that I am quite sure that I give too much, open up my heart too easily and let people mean a lot to me entirely too quickly. Then there are others when I say to myself if you don’t give a little and have a little faith you will never experience the joys of friendship, love, companionship or affection. More and more often now though I wonder if the pain of being let down by the people you give a little to isn’t a lot more impactful that the joys.

I love people. I love watching them, observing their interactions; I love laughing with them, chatting with them, teaching them and just being quiet with them. I think that it is clear that I enjoy these activities more and more with people that mean something to me.  But does that love make me too vulnerable? What comes to mind as I have this debate with myself is that cartoon where the girl keeps her heart in a box to protect herself. How many times has that cartoon passed your newsfeed and you thought, I know how she feels, I know why she did it and I admire the courage she has to open the box and try again.

But is it really courage? Or is it just wishful thinking? Is being guarded with your heart and your emotions so wrong? It gets so frustrating to make the decision to be more open, give someone that little bit more of your time and your heart and then they let you down. It is not only frustrating, it hurts! It makes you lose faith in yourself and what you have to offer in a relationship or to anyone that you want to value you. I can hear all the women who love me yelling at me and saying “Tara, honey, how many times do we have to say it is not your fault; you did your best and you cannot always blame yourself”. I agree with them in my mind, I do, I really do … but my heart and my spirit wonders; is it so obvious that there is something wrong with me? Don’t I have enough? Am I not enough? Is there something else I could have done? Should I just not bother because it will never work out how I want it to anyway?

Sigh … I don’t know if there is a lot more that I can say here … maybe what I am looking for is more of a conversation … what do you think? Is being guarded so wrong?

Truth is everybody is going to hurt you: you just gotta find the ones worth suffering for 

Bob Marley

you can find the complete comic I have referred to here: http://www.spiritscienceandmetaphysics.com/this-comic-about-love-will-touch-your-heart/

A Fog of Euphoria

Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. 

~Plato~ 

There are so few words that can describe how I felt after watching Wicked at the Edinburgh Playhouse. Why do we always say that? There are sooo many words I can use to express and describe how I felt before, during and after watching Wicked at the Edinburgh Playhouse; the problem is I am not sure that all of those words will be able to convey exactly how I felt.

In earlier blogs I talked about how much music means to me, but I do not think I talked about when I discovered Andrew Lloyd Webber and musical theatre pieces. My first exposure to this music was when I started vocal training in Barbados. I felt like something wild and exciting had been opened up to me. Later, a friend at school (I haven’t forgotten Janelle) lent me a CD which I never returned (shame). I couldn’t return it because I listened to it at home, and in mummy’s car and everywhere else I could and I think I hurt it … it never played the same after the overuse. In simple terms I fell in love. My brother was not amused, but for me it was a natural extension from my staple movie diet of Disney movies, Annie, The Wizard of Oz and The Sound of Music. Yet again, I digress. Although, I think what I wanted to say was that at home there were so few opportunities to experience this type of thing.

I remember when Broadway to Barbados first came to the Frank Collymore Hall, Barbados … I wanted to go so badly I could taste it. My mother gifted me the ticket if I remember correctly and I was on cloud nine for days after the show. I felt so fortunate, blessed and wonderful to be able to have seen it. Now this show is not a full production; on the contrary, various ex-cast members perform some of the signature pieces of the Broadway shows that they have done. If I felt this way about going to that can you even imagine how I felt to be gifted a ticket to Wicked and be walking into the Edinburgh Playhouse? I was on cloud nine before I took my seat; I felt grateful, privileged and full of anticipation.

From note one, I was blown away; at the end of the first half I was enthralled, in awe of the orchestra, singing, dancing, talent, costumes, staging, dragon :)  and by the end of the show I was simply overwhelmed. If you had to ask me to do anything for the next few hours I would have gladly done it for you, I was in what could be termed a ‘fog of euphoria’. The rack of baby back ribs afterwards was just icing on the cake (trust me, the only thing that tops an amazing experience is great food after or during that experience). I am too inexperienced to give you a critical review of the show. I also do not want to give away the plot to anyone who has not had the opportunity to see it. But that experience was for me, emotional, mind-blowing, overwhelming and humbling, in short, a dream come true. 

I know what I want to write ... BUT!!!

My writing process isn't a very organized thing~Chuck Palahniuck~

 There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewrite and bleed 

~Ernest Hemingway~

I cannot count the number of times I have sat in front of this computer's keyboard, with a number of academic papers scattered next to me, in folders, across the desk and on the floor with various notes in the margins; papers attached with further notes and a lot of thoughts swimming around in my mind and said … I know what I want to say BUT … ARGH!!!!

But wait Tara … Haven’t you done everything? Laid out a structure for the chapter, done all the reading, know what the major points are, who said them, who reiterated them, who disagreed with them, and what it is that needs to be said, what the story of your chapter is? So why in goodness name is nothing moving from your mind to the damn screen? I hate staring at a screen with no words on it… JUST WRITE!!! How many times have I heard that? … come on Tara you know what  you want… you KNOW IT … you have READ IT… you know your perspective, that is in your notes … SO WRITE THE DAMN THING!!! ARGH!!!! What’s the holdup … honestly?

There are some days that knowing the deadline you are working towards and the number of words you need to write per day to meet that deadline just do not help when nothing moves from mind to paper. This being a prime example, rather than writing my chapter, I had to take a few moments out to just get all of this negative energy and stuff that is stopping me … out!! But what exactly is it? I feel like I am fighting through a mire of my own making… It is just fear, I know that; I do not want to acknowledge it, but the overwhelming fear of not meeting the deadline, not writing what is important and missing something significant or just being substandard can be immobilizing. Sometimes even knowing what routine works for me and applying and/or just trying something different to see if that sparks anything are just not enough to get past the fear.

Well here I go again … off to the literature review (a couple thousand words yuh know) that scares the living daylights out of me. Let’s see if something that makes sense comes out this time. 

P.S... I don't drink coffee but everything else about this comic is pretty accurate. Yes I know ... how is it that I don't drink coffee?

A different point of view ... 11th July 2014

Foreword: I figured it was time you heard a different perspective. So ... today's guest blogger is Abigail, a wonderful young woman who I met through the Cavite Chorale (The UWI - Cave Hill Campus choral group) in Barbados who recently completed her MSc. Marketing Management and Strategy at the Plymouth University who I asked to give her perspective on studying in the UK. 

"FERNWEH" (n.) An ache for distant places; the craving for travel

11th July, 2014. That was the day. After immense contemplation and deliberation, I had finally decided. That was the day I would pick up my life to begin my adventure – my year-long European journey before heading back to Barbados. You see, I absolutely LOVE England and I was willing to do whatever it took to postpone my return to Barbados. I had convinced myself that the more I postponed my departure from England, the easier the trek home would be, the less I would miss England, the faster I would re-adjust to my not-so-missed island lifestyle. Most of all, I truly believed that in the time that I waited (lagged and delayed) I would receive a clear sign as to what my future had in store for me.

Apparently, international students usually have a love-hate relationship with England. Mine though, was a love-love-more-love relationship from the very start! Within weeks of applying to Plymouth University, I was accepted for my programme. I was awarded a part scholarship from the University towards my tuition fees. I was afforded the opportunity to work with the University's accommodation team and thus earned myself free accommodation and monthly pay. Thus, I required and was quickly able to secure minimal funding for the rest of my trip within a few weeks of my acceptance. Just like that - I had it in the bag.

Plymouth is about a 5 hour drive away from London - which was the only bummer. However, it truly is a self-sufficient little city, and I rarely ever needed to make the trek to London. I really liked my programme; my flat was beyond decent and my flatmates were God sent. I didn't have many friends, but a solid few were all I needed. It was cold and rainy most days (cold and slightly sunny on others) but I adjusted quickly, grabbing the opportunity to embrace as many fancy coats and knee high boots as I could lay my hands on. This cold, grey country sucked me in and seduced me all at once.

I often indulged in long walks along the waterfront, and I stared at the gorgeous old buildings for hours. Late night movies and a bottle of wine with my flatmates were a monthly must. All-you-can-eat Chinese buffets were sinfully delicious and ridiculously affordable, not to mention the corner kebab shops especially when I had the midnight munchies. Old castles, theatre shows, the malls, the sales…the sales … the sales! The pubs (OMG ... the pubs!!), live music, summer barbeques, restaurants, clubs, parties, pre-drink before the parties…and more parties. UGH… I did not want to leave!

It was 11th July, and I waited for my flight alone at the airport. I just had to accept that I had travelled to England on a mission which I had accomplished to the best of my ability. It was time to return home. "At least you'll have the beach…", I thought to myself, wiping away the last of my tears. I just had to believe there was something bigger and better in store for me… and truly, there was. Within the first week of my return to Barbados, I was interviewed by one of the largest distribution firms on the island and shortly after was hired as a Brand Manager for a major account. A little intimidating, I'll admit, but more than enough Band-Aid for my British blues!

I miss the cold days. I've never been happier or felt more liberated than on days that I walked home by myself. Nowhere to be, no one to answer to, just me walking home alone. A chunk of my heart will forever remain in England, but I think that's a fair price to pay for that 'once in a lifetime' kinda experience. 

A PhD… Seriously …Whose idea was this anyway?

If we knew what it was we were doing, it would not be research would it?

~Albert Einstien~

It still amazes me how exhausted I am after a meeting with my supervisor.  At the end of one of these meetings, even if they were not to go over my writing, I feel like a deflated balloon. I wonder sometimes if it is only because I work myself up into a good little lather before the meeting actually happens. No matter how much preparation I put in, or how much Soca I listen to before to relax, or the number of attempts I make to get a good night’s sleep, I still end up in the office before 8 looking over one more thing, a little nervous as I walk through the door (with numerous papers and sometime a diagram or two) and I most likely leave with a tension headache.

Now please don’t get it in your head that my supervisor is a bad sort; he is a kind, knowledgeable person and offers a sympathetic even empathetic ear always… BUT!!! I want to feel more sure when I step in and out of his office. Since the change in my topic (even before that but since then it is so much worse) I have felt like I am floundering. The proposal I wrote was so clear, and it was so well-defined to me then: what I wanted to examine, what questions I wanted to answer and there was even some clarity on the methods I would use to answer those questions. I was comfortable with the literature and had a clear structure in my mind that would lead me where I was going. Now with this new topic, I am not as familiar with the literature and just not as sure where I am going. I have a vague plan but I will not be more certain, confident or comfortable (look at that 3Cs) until I am more familiar with the literature, know what has already been done and where my work will fit into the larger scheme of things. There are some days that that task seems so overwhelming and those days seem to culminate or begin with that meeting with my supervisor.

Although I always leave with a clearer direction and another few questions answered, I also feel an overwhelming urge to curl up in the foetal position or just lie down and relax… I am not telling the full truth; I leave with an overwhelming urge to have chips with lots of ketchup and salt, good chicken wings or a well prepared steak and a very yummy dessert (tiramisu or chocolate cake top that list) and then curl up in the foetal position or lie down. So now that I am trying hard not to overindulge and the deadlines I have set for myself are right around the corner I need to roll out of this post meeting misery a little faster.

I have heard and I believe that at the end of the literature review, I will be in a much better position. I will be more sure (please note not absolutely certain) of what my new research questions are, and with those, hopefully, a lot more will fall into place like my new research methods, the types of companies that fit my research criteria and the best way to tackle the next chapter.

A PhD… Seriously …Whose idea was this anyway?

Difficult Questions...

Your writing voice is the deepest possible reflection of who you are. The job of your voice is not to seduce or flatter or make well-shaped sentences. In your voice, your readers should be able to hear the contents of your mind, your heart, your soul.

~Meg Rosoff~

Thanks to Ian for asking these questions on Facebook some time ago … I have no idea where they came from but they did seem to spark a lot of thought for me. So I am going to share those thoughts with you.

The questions:

If your younger self had to see you today, what would they see? Exactly who you wanted to be, someone different who had to adapt...maybe the exact person you despised? Would you be happy with whom you became?

The Answer? My thoughts? Sigh …

OMG!!! Younger me had so much to learn … and life seemed so much simpler the younger I was. I have often said that I would love to go back to those days - maybe the age of 8 - where I never had to worry about how I would pay the bills, wasn’t yet too concerned about my common entrance examination (which dictates what secondary school you attend in the Caribbean school system and is completed at 11), hadn’t started puberty and thought that life was easy. I vaguely remember a stage where my greatest aspiration was to have at least 11 kids and be a good mommy. HAHAHA!!! Boy has that changed! I remember another age where I wanted to be an accountant, largely because it was all I was good at in school and it came so easily to me and my mommy was an accountant. I remember the age where I was terrified to stand up in Sunday School and sing or say anything. I remember when I first got the balls to say what I wanted to do with my hair (you know how big a deal that is ladies); I remember the age where I was learning to drive and going out with friends who had not first met my parents. What would that girl at any of those ages think of me now?

God Tara … you are OLD!!! LOL… being anywhere near thirty was ancient to any of those girls and having achieved what I have and had the experiences I did, I am glad; no, glad is not the right word, because there are some experiences you never want people to have but without those experiences I wouldn’t be the woman that I am now. I wouldn’t be looking forward to new experiences, love to travel and experience new cultures and meet new people; I certainly would not have the balls to up and leave home and pursue a PhD; I wouldn’t be the woman I am. But am I what I wanted to be?

Damn it! I am happy with who I am now. It has taken a long time to get here. I am still not and doubt I will ever be perfect and goodness knows I have a lot more to learn, but I am looking forward to doing it. I am some of the things I didn’t like when I was younger, but I have grown to realise that some things are necessary, like being there for people who mean a lot to you and that there is no easy way to do some things like end a relationship or discipline someone you love. Nothing in life is as easy or as simple as you thought when you were younger but then some things are.

Life is and my feelings about it and who I am are a kaleidoscope of conflicting, clashing and beautiful colours, emotions, memories, images, music, people, sounds…

Tara now, is happy with whom she is becoming … and Tara then, through her very simple and small lens, may not be totally happy but I forgive her for that. 

Back to the Grind

Never make your home in a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You'll find what you need to furnish it - memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey. 

~Tad Williams~

I was more scared to come back to Glasgow this time... isn’t that weird? Last time I didn’t know where I was going to live, if I had enough money, wasn’t quite sure where anything was in relation to where I would settle or how I would eat… but it was an adventure. I was anxious but not as scared as I was when I recently came back. This time I do know where I am living, I do know where everything is and I have a kind of routine that should comfort me coming back…then why was I so scared?

I guess I should have started with the fact that I went home to Barbados for a LONG while and now I am back in Glasgow and my mind is again filled with ALL the work that I have to do to complete this PhD programme. I feel like I was on vacation for only three weeks though, as I spent the first three weeks of my return; working, teaching, preparing for my annual review via Skype (let us not even talk about that this toss), preparing my examination and being caught up in UWI. But boy did I pack in some action in those three weeks that I was mentally on break!!! AHHHH!!!!

I went to Pink Star with the girls (no livers for me though), Cooler Vibes with my crew (put yah hands on your knees and push it back), Scrawl up (twice) with both the girls and the crew and made new friends (destroyed my knee), Champers with the crew (had to wear my nice dress and tall shoes at least once). I visited Farley Hill (it never feels like I was home unless I do), Folkestone Marine & Heritage Park (they fixed the fence), Miami Beach (had lemonade at Mr. Delicious’ Snack Bar), Oistins (I had excellent fish at Fred’s Bar but I never got my fried pork chop), Carib Beach Bar (which closed while I was there; excellent calamari!!… sigh…). I didn’t make it to Bathsheba or a number of other places that I normally would have though.

I enjoyed the heat, the rain, the vibes, the music, the company, the sea breeze, the sea, the beaches, the food… I enjoyed being home. I think that is why I felt like crying on my way back. I wasn’t going to go to Cheffete Warrens (to eat what Tara?) and bump into several people I know and have nice catch up conversations. I wasn’t going to be able to pick up my beach chair and set it up at Folkestone and lie under a tree and read. I wasn’t going to be able to pick up my goddaughter and take her out to the park to colour in the sun or have a little picnic. Nah! Those days were over.

I was headed back to days of reading academic articles and trying to make enough sense of them that I could write my literature review. Honestly, I think I needed the break, I think I feel more ready and certainly more determined to do well… BUT!!! I am going to miss home.