Colouring in.

So I sat with my son determined to draw and colour and collage. I long for more uninterrupted moments like these where I can cultivate quiet in my mind long enough to sit close to him and breathe in his concentration and curiosity. I had to almost physically hold myself down from doing my usual 'picking things up around the house' dance, a habit I do often as it seems to be the easiest way to distract myself from sad thoughts. I'd like that habit to be replaced by making things with my hands, sitting at our dining table with a whole bunch of pens and paints and brushes and crayons, absorbed in a drawing as my son, sitting next to me, chooses which colour to use next. And in the end, i would hope that my habit for more colouring in time with my son wouldn't just be for the purpose of distracting myself,like so many of the things I do these days are. In the end, It would just be a very normal natural thing to do. I wouldn't be trying to run away from something that feels much bigger than I can handle.

Let me in.

What am I feeling right now? Ennui, a sense of being irreconceivably alone, feeble, useless, hapless, drawn to just sitting motionless, stare at the T.V, wondering, once snappping out of it, how to pulll away and come back to that joyful snese of consciouness where I can hear and see and taste and breathe. Where I can be mercifully lost in a state of normality and thrive there with the delicious presence of my children and there unrepentent love for what is real. The world, the lights, the sounds, the textures, filling themselves up with all of it. Let me in. I hate it when I'm locked out so many times,and like a punishment I can go back in out of choice just as I've been convinced that I have no choice. It's as simple as that. I don't have to be here, sitting silent and motionless, gripped by a heaviness that I can't explain, made heavier still because I can't explain it. And yet. I can just get up, take in a big deep breath of my life as I wish it could be, but is screaming back at me, it already is, it already is,it already is It already is as it should be, thriving beautiful and extraordinary in all its glorious normality. Let me in. Let me stay there.

Hey you world.

I have been away for an extremely long time, and I am not just talking about the blog. With some little steps, I hope I can come back to writing here again, because once upon a time, I really liked it. It has been a tough year, a tough few years, but I am determined to see myself through it and come out the other end. Blogging is my way of sharing it with you, the world.

Wandered off

but I am still here. I had a much needed vacation, spending time with my family, well rounded from all the lovely food cooked for me. Boy did I make the most of it or what.

Isaac can say lots of little phrases in English. He's picked up so many words during the week he spent with his cousins it's astonishing really.

Remember the oil pastel workshop I mentioned earlier in the month? Well, it was great! Just sitting amongst a group of 15 students around a huge table, drawing with such concentration. There were so many differences in confidence, some were very comfortable, others were petrified, but in the end everybody let loose there creative voice and Im so proud to have been a part of that.

The exercise itself wasn't exactly a lesson on oil pastel skills. They had to work in pairs, with one half of each pair describing a famous painting in order for the other pair to draw it, swapping roles half way through the class. In the end they got a chance to see the painting and compare with their interpretation. Many chuckles throughout.
I am after all, an English teacher, and this exercise seemed to be the best way to get them practicing their language skills, whilst doing something fun and relaxing at the same time.

Makes me wish I could start a creative workshop studio someday, but with the economy in such a dire state, Portugals not the ideal place to start such an idea.

One can only dream.

A charmed life

There are so many things I am grateful for. My family, my home, my friends, the food in my fridge, my health. So many things that so many people would love to have and don't. I've always felt over the last few years, that something beyond my control, lent itself towards helping me along, what it is, I dont know. Luck? A guardian angel? whatever it is, it has always had to come up against my worries and fears-and we're talking fear of gigantic proportions (even if I didn't have anything to fear, my internal bully would think up a reason for me to be scared witless anyway)

The voice of Mr Fear tends to be at its loudest in the following situations.

1. Painting. There are people way better than you at doing it
2. Blogging. Nobody wants to read what you have to say. Stop being so selfish.
3. Expressing an opinion. Stop thinking you know everything. Nobody wants to hear it.
4. Being a mother. You can't do it alone. You're weak. Quit complaining.
5. Dreaming of being an artist. Don't even get me started on this one.

There you have it. That is the voice of Mr Fear and I have had to listen to its vitriol for years. and I mean years. It reached its peak during my first year of motherhood. That was a really tough time for me, because it distorted my own strengths, my perception of the world around me. It covered my real needs and the ability to articulate those needs, with a thick layer of vile neediness. No amount of tea and heart to hearts could have got me out of that. I ran to others with the mess of my emotions, followed by the mess of trying to fix myself better again, fix relationships that I knew deep down could never be fixed again. All the while Mr Fear chuckles at my feeble attempts to rise above it all. For the 6809845th time. It did it's job of creating an almighty mess. It did it's job very well.
Hey, Fear, Are you done with me now???

Deep breath. That was not easy to write. But I wrote it.
Hey I actually wrote it.
Was that Miss Long-Haired Book Reading Goddess whispering to me just then??
I wish her voice could be louder, stronger. Kick Mr Fear in the balls!

I think she wants to tell me something. I can't hear her very well. What was that?


Paint.
Blog.
Express those opinions.
Be the best mother.
Dream.

Don't stop. Don't be afraid. Do it.

Mr fear has outstayed its welcome in this little charmed life of mine.

Oil Pastel therapy

to get myself back in the creative groove again.
I'm planning a mixed media workshop event at the school where I teach. It's the first time I'm doing it, which is shocking really since I've been working there for almost 7 years now. But I've finally plucked up the courage to do it. I'm a little nervous but I'm going to see it as a valuable learning experience. Will let you know how I get on!

xxx
Khairun

crocheted stone

I have been wanting to try this for so long, in addition to a zillion other things. I haven't been crocheting for a while after attempting to construct a blanket out of several granny squares. Never doing that again. It took far too long to finish and I made the wrong choice of colours too. But having a look at the truly amazing work of this lady I got bitten once again, with the crochet bug.

So this was my first attempt. Really bad stitches here and there but overall I'm quite pleased with it. Definately going to do more.

life update

That boy of mine just won't stop growing. 20 months old and counting... He knows how to hold a spoon, dances to the tune of Thomas the Tank Engine, does a fake laugh when he sees us laughing, and is devoted to strawberries.

I'll be solo parenting next week because hubby is off on a business trip to China. Yikes!!!

Still going strong with the pilates. Wanna kill the instructor when doing it, but end up forgiving her afterwards.

One of my younger students said to me 'I don't know what it is about you Khairun, but people fall in love with you'.

Wowza. Speechless. To think that a young person, feels that way when I teach them. Just makes me feel like everything I do, the effort involved, the hesitation and self doubt, it's so worth continuing. Because its way more than an ego massage. Perhaps there was a time when it would have been just that, and It would have lifted me up when nothing else was would. Its more than that. I feel as though Im living from bottom to top, internal to external. And having a 15 year old girl with all the insecurities of the world on her shoulders, look at me with a huge smile on her face, is both product and reward of this.

Passiflora

A cherry blossom for a friend.

The long-haired book-reading goddess

Last year it was crochet, papier mache, dolls and wanting to meet more mamas. The year before that it was writing, poetry, and learning to be more sociable.

This year it's all about instilling healthier habits into my life. Habits that make sense for me. Ideas that don't make me feel crap, instead, they make me feel like I'm fulfilling a more authentic version of me.
Introducing the long haired book reading goddess! Well,my new name is open to modification. But for now, this fits me just fine.

So this year, I have managed to stick to a fewer number of projects, let go of some unhealthy thoughts and feelings, and learnt to really enjoy what's RIGHT for me because the real failure for me is holding on to things without doing anything to make it better. More constructive to let another person do a better job of it.
What I've stuck to
Pilates. I am feeling the burn and the burn feels goooood.
Blogging. Just have to tell myself to keep at it.
Reading. Exchanging books with friends, and ordered a few from Amazon.
Painting. Just completed a small watercolour as a gift for a friend.
Self work. I know it sounds cheesy, but through one of my closest friends, I've done a lot of soul searching and worked my way to a better understanding of how I relate to others.
Waking up Early. The ONLY way I can do most of the above. Or I sleep and do none of it. I think I made the right choice.

And heres what I've said farewell to
Crochet. Lost that cozy feeling. It went as soon as I realised how insanely old it made me feel.
Short hair. I had this sudden urge earlier in the year to go for the chop. I thought it would somehow bring out a more refined sophisticated, up to date version of me. But now I know,that would have been a version of somebody else. Not me. I was born to be a completely unsophisticated goddess with crazy long hair.
Being so damn introverted. I love this side of myself because I think my quiet natured self allows me to be more thoughtful, creative, and sensitive to beauty, love, happy things. But I've also realised that there is a side to it that just doesn't help me at all. And I don't want to identify with that anymore. It has made me make very bad decisions, lose friendships, and increase self loathing. The worst thing about it though is that it's prevented me from having more love for myself and for others. Not a good thing, no matter who you are.

There you go. lots of deep and meaningful stuff here. But that's who I am.
I'm a deep and meaningful goddess.
Long haired to boot.

Tough geeks rule

About three weeks ago I decided to do a pilates workout three times a week at home. I have no idea what inspired me to do it, and equally disturbing to me (in a good way) how I'm still keeping it up. All I do know is that its made me feel pretty superduper. I am naturally slim, and I say this in a totally unsmug way because I've been likened to an Eritrean long distance runner coming last in the Olympics, rather than Giselle Bunchen not a sultry slim, a very awkward geeky slim, so there is absolutely nothing to be smug about here. I never felt I needed to exercise because i didn't want to lose more weight, and because I didn't think i had an molecule of muscle power to do it anyway. But holy moses, how wrong I was. I had no idea just how much good it would do me in terms of building my toughness, well not building it, since I had zero toughness to begin with, but introducing me to a tough centred stronger me.
-Hello tougher centred stronger Khairun.
-Hello who the hell are you?
. I may be slim, but I am weak. I'm weak in so many areas of my life. The worst being in taking initiatives, standing up for myself, having a firm voice. My voice is not a voice. It's a squeak. When i get into any lengthy conversation, i jump from one idea to the next, I can never get the right word to express something, even when that very word is on the tip of my tongue. I have no sense of centre. Add all this to my Eritrean roots, and what do you have? a long distance runner who doesn't believe her skinny legs can take her anywhere. I've noticed something in myself that needs to be fixed, and it makes total sense to fix it. and all the strange pilates positions and stretches, have given my weakness a proper thrashing. I have no idea whats happening, but I feel like the geek in me doesn't slouch anymore, her back's straight and she can look at the world directly.
She's still a geek. But shes a tough geek!

A little piece of lemon..

I'm in awe of how easy it was to make this and how yummy it turned out.
This will be on the list of things to bake for my husbands birthday next month.

Lemon Meringue Tart

Base

A packet of rich tea biscuits (or Donna Maria if you're in Portugal)
125g unsalted butter

Filling

A tin of condensed milk
125ml lemon juice (about 3 lemons)
3 egg yolks

Meringue topping

3 egg whites
125g caster sugar

Preheat oven to 180 degrees


1.Crush the biscuits. You can wrap them in a tea towel and release your new found passion for baking with a rolling pin.
2. Add melted butter and mix. Press into a pre greased tart tin or dish.
3. Put it in the fridge so that it can set.
4. Mix the condensed milk, lemon juice and egg yolks in a bowl.
5. With the remaining egg whites, beat and gradually add the sugar until white satin peaks form. You can also add a spoon of cornstarch to thicken it.
6. Start assembling! Take the base out of the fridge. Spread the filling first and spoon the meringue on top. You can use a pipe bag if you happen to have one. It would certainly make it look a lot prettier than mine.
7. Pop it in the oven for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the meringue is browned lightly.
8. Once done, allow to cool and eat it on the same day or pop it in the fridge and eat it the following day. But trust me, you won't wait that long.

Is it really possible?

Could anything be more divine, more beautiful, more heavenly, than this baby of ours?

He is the reason why I do what I do, why I keep wanting my life to be better. Because he's in it. He came into my unprepared, naive, hesitant life, making the mess that was me suddenly feel beautiful and joyful and full of possibilities.

Sunny day

It would be a shame to waste it!

Blossom

This is a watercolour drawing for a friend. Not quite finished though. I'd like to add some white lines to the leaves but I need to get a better brush.

Homemade play dough

To make it you need

1 cup of water
1 cup of salt
2 tablespoons of vegetable oil
flour
cornstarch
food colouring or tempera paint

Mix the water, salt oil and paint together. Use as much paint or food colouring as you think you'll need in order to get the right vibrancy in colour. Then all you need to do is add flour and cornstarch to the paste until it gets nice and thick. Knead it like you would with dough until most of the moisture has been absorbed.

To store it, keep in any airtight container. If it gets a little sweaty, just add flour to it.

He loved it. Until he realised it didn't taste very good. Then he just poked at it with a crayon like it was some kind of hideous washed up jelly fish.

There comes a time to start

Starting things is what I do best. Knowing the best time to start is what I do worst. Like getting enthusiastic about Pilates a week before discovering I was pregnant, buying art materials whilst moving into and renovating a house, painting a mural in Isaacs old bedroom, only to move out and painting over it, six months later.
The bad timing worked in our favour when we moved out. It looked terrible; me returning to my full time schedule at work, all three of us sleeping on a mattress, on the floor of Antonios old bedroom whilst waiting for our house to be ready. We ended up staying six weeks rather than the very optimistic five days.
But in the end, we couldn't have done it at a better time. And we are happier for taking that risk, of not waiting for the right time, as so many people often do.
I've learnt that there is a time, and there just isn't a time, there are things that need careful planning and things that don't, and it's taken me a while to discover what goes in what.

The Go Slowly List

1. Pilates.
I've started doing pilates three times a week. It's not to lose weight in mind, as I am already skinny. I just want to work on my strength and general well being.

2. Portuguese
I came up with a great way to practice. I speak a little everyday with one of my colleagues at work. It is tricky getting some Portuguese in, considering I am an English teacher in a school where speaking Portuguese is severely restricted, but I try to keep it discreet. I'm also doing the same with my husband, speaking to him when Isaac isn't around as I want to make sure my son only hears me speaking in English.
I feel like an Portuguese secret agent!

3. Minimalist skin and haircare routine

I've gone back to the joys of growing my hair long and strong again. That means fewer times using shampoo, lots of coconut oil to keep it in good condition and waiting very patiently to get it looking like it used to, LONG! Ive been using coconut oil for my skin moisturiser too. No more Clinique products. My skin has been a lot better since doing this

4. No T.V

Now that the weathers getting better, I feel I'm less tempted to switch on the T.V to keep Isaac occupied for short periods at a time. Instead, I've been listening to podcasts with him or going out into the garden. I rarely watch the box these days which I'm really happy about. There is just nothing more frustrating to me than to sit in front of it whilst thinking about all the better things I could be doing.

5. Drawing

Last night I had a look at some art blogs from my favourites and the fire in my heart just lit up again. I got all my art materials out and began drawing again. No objectives, no pressure. Just enjoying the return of this feeling which I haven't had in a long time. Hurrahh!! I have finally started!

Sifting through past blog posts like old photos

I forget how much I shared on this blog and how much of it is not as bad as I was telling myself.
I initially went into the archives to purge them of awful memories, bad writing, strange art work and odd Youtube videos. I was set on this mission but as I started reading my verbal attempts to understand the world around me and my feeble place in it, I started having a change of heart.
I actually don't think any of it is that bad. I don't know why I slam my efforts sometimes, maybe its just years of brainwashing myself into thinking I could not be very good at much. But there is a lot of good I did and a lot of good I would still love to continue doing. I know I just need to reestablish that personal drive again, to write here, because I do still want to keep writing. I guess i need to exorcise myself of the fear to return here because there is a fear. The fear of hurting somebody, the fear of looking like a know-it-all, the fear of being ridiculed, the fear of loneliness, because blogging, just like painting, is a very lonely experience for me and I've avoided these two activities because they embody moments and memories of loneliness at their peak.
But I'm pretty sure, in fact I'm positive, that all this fear I'm carrying around, is a figment of my rather wandering imagination. I'm afraid of myself. Maybe I'm afraid of what I can truly be capable of. Maybe I'm afraid of what I know I could lose by following my dreams.
This is a start though.

My favourite poem

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.


Mary Oliver