There’s just something about getting on the train in the morning, getting (as one woman put it) your morning hug from a whole carriage full of other commuters.

Sometimes I read a book, sometimes I people watch and at other times I look out the window at the world passing by.

And then the train slowly (sometimes too slowly) makes its way into Cape Town station.  If it’s possible I try to catch a glimpse of Lion’s Head and then the Good Hope Centre comes into view and then bits of Strand Street flashes by.  We’re nearly there! 

Some days I get something from the shop or a coffee from McDonald’s inside the station and then make way to the office, about 5 minutes walk away.

Most days the station is filled with other people making their way to where ever they’re going and then one day out of the blue someone catches your eye.

They are either screaming at the top of their lungs at no one in particular or doing something out of the ordinary that separates them from ‘normal’ commuters.

There are the con artists with ruck sacks on their backs, trying to look like tourists asking for money to get them to their hotels.  I’ve never seen anyone give anything. And drug addicts trying to convince you to give them money for a train ticket or someone trying to sell you a story.

Along my route I often come across a man who looks like he might be homeless.  He always looks a bit scruffy, is barefooted and wears a red jumpsuit.  One day I may see him in the station sitting in the middle of the floor, on another day I might find him somewhere along my route, talking to himself.  Sometimes he takes an afternoon nap outside our building and other times I see him around the Civic Centre.

He always looks oblivious to the world around him.

And then yesterday evening as I was making my way back to the station, I caught a glimpse of a red jump suit through the corner of my eye. I was in a hurry to get the 16.43 train, but I turned my head towards him only to find him looking at me as he walked in the opposite direction.

I’m not sure if I was imagining it or projecting onto him, but he was looking at me with curiosity.  As if he wondered what my story was in much the same way as that I wondered about his story. I felt like the tables were being turned.

I wished I knew what he was thinking. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all.

I nodded slightly and continued my rush to catch the train home.

Another day in the city.

I actually go to work so that I can go on lunch

But as usual when things don’t go as planned, it all turned out perfectly…

See, my colleague walked into the office with a plate of Mac & Cheese from the canteen.  It looked so good that I suggested to another colleague that we get the same and take it home for supper.

So for the first time ever, I went to the canteen to get a meal.

We took the lift to the second floor and walked down the now very familiar corridor where I used to get lost during the first few weeks at the job.

As we walked back to the lift with our meals, I realised that she was going up towards the office, while I had to take the lift down to go outside for my lunch time.

I stood there wondering what to do when she said: “take that stairs to your right and you will be outside.”

What??? I walked passed that little stairway many times, without even wondering what was beyond it.

I looked at her suspiciously, wondering what fate awaited me. She waved me on while I walked up the stairs.

The stairway consisted of no more than 5 steps and then a door.

And then I entered a large room with ceiling to floor glass windows and deep red carpeting.  It looked like a ballroom! I must have looked like Alice in Wonderland because everyone I came across smiled at me and then directed me along winding stairs and towards another large glass door.

And then a few more stairs outside on the most beautiful autumn day imaginable!

I love that place! I had no idea that working in a building that housed one of Cape Town’s premier theatres would be a dream come true.  A dream that I never even knew I had!

I work in a modern office building with motion detector lights and finger print access. But what I love most is when I take a lift to another floor where it looks as if time stood still and where a phantom could be hiding.

The timing was perfect though.

When I accepted my current position at work, it was because I couldn’t face working out a 3 month notice period at my previous employers.  I told them about my reluctance to take a full time position so soon after being retrenched and they seemed to understand. Or at least I think they hoped that I would change my mind and fall in love with the new job.

I told them that I would wait until the end of my 3 month probation period before finally making a decision.

In many ways I did fall in love with the place. And with many of the people.

So this past week I was off work two days studying and writing exams.  I had previously bounced some of my thoughts off three people – two of them colleagues and the third one a friend.  But time was running out.  My probation period was fast coming to and end.

Firstly I needed to be certain of my choices and of the consequences, because at the end of it all, I could be without a job.

That was the least of my concerns though.

I needed to communicate my decision.

And then I walked into the office on Tuesday with the the unexpected news that “it was a disaster here without you.” And some of my colleagues looked relieved and others happy to see me.

Exactly as it used to be at my old employers.

I hadn’t seen that coming at all!

I saw this as the final confirmation of what needed to be done.  I liked working there, but I couldn’t sacrifice my own career for another organisation.  Never again!

So Tuesday I did it! I asked – in writing – to have my working hours reduced by between 8 and 10 hours a week so that I would have time to pursue my studies and other career opportunities.  I implied that I wouldn’t accept a full time position and I meant it.

And having thought about it in the last few days, I realised that if I don’t put a price on my own worth, no one else would.

Funny enough former colleagues who I’ve been in contact with over the last three months told me that what they miss about me isn’t my technical skills as much as my attitude and willingness to help wherever needed.

From being retrenched four months ago to now I’ve learnt to be a lot less unassuming about my technical abilities and personal attributes.  I add something to this organisation as I did at my previous employers over the years. When it’s time to move on, I will take my attitude, abilities and attributes to the next place.

In the last four months I’ve held up a mirror to myself and like what I see. I like the new strength which has flowed through to my entire life.  It’s a soft, underlying strength. A calmness, a certainty that I’m good enough as a person… as a daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend,citizen, neighbour, colleague…

I realised if one person or organisation can’t see my value, someone else will! And I realised that when you recognise your own value, you feel okay to ask for what you want.

I have learnt a few things in my life though…

1. That you teach people how to treat you.  I saw that on Oprah one day and it stuck with me.  So if someone consistently treats us badly, it’s because we allow it.
2. The decisions we make are almost always the right ones.   It’s what happens afterwards that matters.
3. Once you actually make a decision, circumstances/the universe/God meets you along the way to make it happen.
4. If something doesn’t work out, you can always change your mind!  Sometimes that’s the whole point.
5. Being in love is great, but loving someone is a million times better.  Falling in love is easy – it’s nature’s way of getting us knocked up, but loving someone (even when you don’t particularly like them all the time) is a choice.
6. We can’t tell someone how to feel or spare their feelings.  It’s arrogant to think we actually have that power.  We should always treat people the way we would like  to be treated. With honesty.
7. Being nice costs nothing.
8. Being nice and tipping well will get you good service most of the time.
9. Having a sense of curiosity about people, things and life  is what keeps us looking and feeling young.  Education doesn’t always have to be of a formal nature.
10. But a formal  tertiary qualification opens more doors, more often than a high school education.
11. How we look outside matters somewhat, but what we are like inside is what matters most.
12. When we think or say bad things about other people, is when we are feeling bad about ourselves. The reverse applies too.  When someone speaks badly of you, it’s about them, not you.
13. Having good friends makes all the difference, especially on your best and worst days.
14. Meditating,praying or just being still for 15 minutes each day helps keep the stress away. It puts everything into perspective.
15. I think the biggest lesson I’ve learnt is that we always have a choice. We are not always in a position to choose our circumstances, but we can choose our attitude and response.
16. Never say never, unless you want to be tested.  The universe seem to love these kinds of tests.
17. It helps to know where your boundaries are. Sometimes we need to shift some boundaries to grow.
18. Exercise is great!
19. Running is better!
20. This moment is the only one we are guaranteed.

Take for instance Friday morning…I was making coffee at the office, waiting for the urn to boil.

To my right was a magnificent view of the harbour, with the sun reflecting off the water.  From my left emanated the sound of beautiful piano music. I just stood there taking it all in for a minute or two.

Kind of reminds me of  lines from one of my favourite poems, The Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I gazed and gazed with little thought,

what wealth this show to me had brought…

And then I go into the office where things are a lot more complicated in ways I can’t explain.

While I’ve taken to some of my new colleagues immediately, there are some challenges that I have not experienced in my working life.

Most days I wonder what I’m doing there…and then it’s lunch time and I’m walking in the middle of the city, as happy as a clam!

So the environment outside the job is great, but the job itself hasn’t really clicked for me yet.  Everyone tells me to relax, it’s only been two months.

My first goal is the 3 month mark, so there’s still another month to go.

Then there’s my old job.

I’ve been in almost daily contact with one or more former colleagues. And talking to them has made the transition a lot easier.

Although knowing that leaving wasn’t completely my choice makes it easier too.  To not hold onto the past – to not long for something that is no longer there.

I don’t miss my old job and old routine, but I do miss a few people. Some more than others.

The other day a few of my former colleagues phoned me a few days after my birthday and I was okay speaking to them, until I got to the last one.  My eyes out of nowhere, filled with tears.

I hadn’t realised how much I missed her.

Fortunately I’m the kind of person who moves forward, while appreciating the past for what it was.

I have the best of both worlds.

Awesome memories and a few amazing friends from my old job and a new adventure at my new job.

]]> http://glasspearl.co.za/blog/2013/04/14/something-old-something-new-2/feed/ 0 http://glasspearl.co.za/blog/2013/04/01/two-oceans-marathon-journey/ http://glasspearl.co.za/blog/2013/04/01/two-oceans-marathon-journey/#comments Mon, 01 Apr 2013 15:17:48 +0000 Glass Pearl http://glasspearl.co.za/blog/?p=5810 If I just woke up, I must have been asleep right?  That’s what I told myself at 4.30 am on Saturday morning after a restless night.

Whether I slept or not, it was time to get up and get ready for the 44th annual Two Oceans Marathon.  Although I was only doing the half marathon which is a lot younger than 44 years old.  Somewhere around 16, I think.

I tried to remember the routine I had been following for 5 and a half months before a morning run, but things were not running according to plan.

The exercise pants I was going to run in was nowhere to be found and my race number was pinned all wrong on my t-shirt.

There wasn’t enough time to eat anything other than a banana and drink a few sips of coffee.  But, I thought, come what may, I’m leaving at 5.15 am.

And then my lift called from the gate – 10 minutes earlier than planned.

Hello! I’m a finely tuned running machine here.  I can’t just throw all carefully laid plans out the window just like that!

I had to respond to a few well wishes that was coming in (my Blackberry was not part of my race plans), because  ever the optimist I thought “Who knows if/when I’ll be coming back in one piece.”

After a few deep breaths, I did eventually make it out the door on time and fully dressed.

Arriving at Newlands baths where the race was set to start from was like deja vu.  Everything looked the same like four years ago.  People walking around relaxed like only Capetonians know how to walk – especially in shopping malls.  Without a care in the world.

The road were cordoned off and blue traffic lights gave the place a surreal feeling.  Am I dreaming this, I wondered.

But it was real enough once we stood at the starting line.  Well, the starting line was somewhere up ahead.  As the announcer said, we – the group E runners – were there to have fun.

Uhm, no! I was there for a bronze medal and wasn’t going home with anything less!

That sense of deja vu disappeared once the race started and the route had an unfamiliar look about it.  Where am I? This isn’t where I ran 4 years ago!

This is unexpected, I thought.

But I kept running with all the other thousands of runners.

Wait! Why are we running uphill for so long, my right knee started protesting.  With uphill comes downhill and for a freaky knee that didn’t sound like much fun.  I tried to keep to the middle of the road where there was less pressure on my knee. And tried to remain hydrated and positive.

And I kept reminding myself to remain mindful, to stay in the moment and enjoy the race.  My fellow runners and the spectators along the way made sure of that.  Throwing out funny comments and encouragement.

“Go Abby” I heard.  ”Don’t stop now, Abigail” and “You’re almost there!” when I wondered if my knee would be able to take another uphill, much less a downhill.  There were jokes about beer and braais and Forries.

And then I heard someone say “3 more kilometres to go!”  Oh no, that’s too much.  Far too far! And there’s not much time left!

You’re not leaving that stadium without a medal, I told myself.

Fortunately most of the last 2km was neither up nor down hill, so I was able to make up some time and finish with three and a half minutes to go.

I crossed the line in 2.56.31, in 12 950th place  - not what I had hoped for when I started, but I had what I had come for.  My second Two Oceans Half Marathon medal.

And I had done the best I could.

Afterwards when I got home, my friend joked about her colleague who finished just after me.  I told her that the Two Oceans is a personal journey – everyone has their own goals and story.

And mine…I wouldn’t trade for anyone else’s.

An unexpected journey in some ways.

For instance, no one told me that I would be working with with so many gay people.  In the performing arts industry!

Yeah, I know a surprise, hey!

As I told a colleague …it’s not that it matters to me.  (Here I feel I should be saying that I like gay people, like a racist would say they don’t hate black people.)

It’s just that I haven’t been exposed to so many openly gay people at the same time.

To be fair, my world is unfortunately pretty small. If there are gay people in my circles of family and friends, they’re keeping their cards close to their chests.

Mind you, before my previous job, I had very little exposure to people from other races and certainly had no friends who were not coloured.

And yet for the most part I enjoy spending time with people from other cultures and religions, or maybe I just enjoy spending time with people who interest me.

I’m not sure what gift is bestowed on one after working for a month at a place, but my gift from my new colleague was a lesson on the sexual orientation of the rest of our colleagues.

Another first for me!

“He’s in a relationship with another man,” she said of one of our colleagues, “but he intends marrying a woman some day.”

“Uhmmm” I replied.

She mentioned two female colleagues who are dating and told of another who’s also dating a woman.

And on and on she went.

I’ve never really cared about anyone’s sexual orientation, any more than I cared about someone’s hair or eye colour.  It’s what you’re born with.

But now that I’m in an office where someone is checking out my body, and it’s a female, that is something I’ve not really experienced before.

So I have to tell myself that some of the men are doing the same thing – something I’m a bit more used to. And to be honest I would rebuff anyone who I work with since I don’t date colleagues. And certainly not women.

We are in an industry though where people are a lot more free about dating the person, rather than their gender.

No one told me any of this in my job interview.  Not that it matters

I don’t usually try to make conversation at any time, much less in a lift, with a stranger. To be honest, silence doesn’t scare me.

But there we were.

Next thing you know, I ask him his name. And tell him mine.

After the lift stopped on the ground floor, we still walked together to the exit. And then I said goodbye and went on my merry way.

An hour or two later I was engrossed in some work at my desk when I felt someone looking at me. I looked up and there he was again, at the other side of the glass door.

He waved and mouthed – “I just wanted to say hello.”

And then he was gone again.

In the meantime, my heart skipped a beat.

A few days later I was talking to my new colleague when she out of no where started speaking of him. “He’s fucked up.” she said.

Uhm, who asked, I kind of irritatedly thought. Having had him on my mind quite a bit since that day when we first met.

But it all started to make sense. He’s sort of good-looking – the type of guy that makes you at least look twice. The James Dean, Rebel Without a Cause kind. You know, Dylan of the original Beverley Hills 90210 or Chuck of Gossip Girl.

The attraction was almost immediately.

With good reason!

If I’m going to fall for someone, it will be Mr Wrong.

And when my new colleague described the girl he was with before, she could’ve been describing me. Quiet, kind of unconventional- although she in a more artistic way.

Why wasn’t I surprised?

Because that is my pattern and obviously his too. We fall for people who fill a need within us. And my need is to fix things and apparently men too.

The attraction remains, although I’ve avoided him as much as possible since I also know that fixing things is considerably easier than fixing men.

And anyway, I made some promises to myself to choose better relationships in the future and falling for Mr Wrong just delays the day when Mr Right and I find our way to each other.

I had actually seen the news on Twitter, just minutes before.

My initial reaction was: “Burglar my arse!”

That man shot at his girlfriend, knowing full well it wasn’t a burglar.

Because as I put the case to my sister:

1. He wears prosthesis on both legs and had to put them on. What burglar would wait for him to do so?

2. How did he not notice that his girlfriend was not next to him in bed?

3. After the first shot, why did she not start shouting her lungs out? And if she did, why did he continue shooting?

4. Why did he not first call the security at his complex?

Now I’ve watched plenty of episodes of all the CSI’s, Law and Order and Medical Detectives and nothing about the initial reports made me believe that Oscar Pistorius had not known who he was shooting at.  He knew Reeva Steenkamp was in the bathroom when he began shooting.

Maybe he acted out of anger and didn’t think of the consequences.  Maybe he had no clear intention of killing her.  They fought, he got angry, she ran into the bathroom and he shot at the door. Some of us might have thrown a shoe or vase or something against the door in the heat of the moment.

So why not just take responsibility for what he did?  Why tell this lie that even with the ‘best’ defence advocate in the country defending him, will not hold out in court.

Despite some bad police work by the investigating officer, Hilton Botha.  (Did he not learn stuff in police training or at least watch police and forensic procedural dramas?)

We don’t have a jury system where Oscar Pistorius’ celebrity and his story about his athletic abilities despite his disability, can sway the decision of the court.

And even if a judge was to give his very unlikely story the benefit of the doubt, how would he get away with shooting another person, even a burglar through a closed door 5 times? And not be found guilty of murder?

What pisses me off most of all though is that this is becoming our national sport – people are taking sides, forgetting that so far we’ve not been told that anyone other than Oscar Pistorius had killed Reeva Steenkamp.  Despite the call for prayers for Reeva and Oscar’s families – from the man and his family and supporters, it won’t change the fact that he took her life.

And as an observer, I’m beyond angry.  I can’t even imagine what Reeva Steenkamp’s family must feel about this coward who stole their daughter’s future.

Not financially, mind you.

But then something happened…something about a kettle. Something that made me think I should at least give this a fair shot instead of living off the state for 8 months.

Right in the middle of my first morning I heard someone accuse a bunch of actors of “stealing our kettle”.  Actually that’s not all they said.  They said one of those white actors across the hallway “stole our kettle”. 

I listened to the story with only mild interest since there was quite enough happening for my little introvert self to absorb.

People were coming and going, introducing themselves.  Faces and names all blurred into nothingness.  I may even have forgotten the names I knew when I started that day.

Somewhere along the line, my job was once again explained to me and then I was left to my own devices.  Thrown in at the deep, deep end!

I felt overwhelmed!

In between all the madness around me, I saw someone knock on the glass door.  A man with a kettle in hand.

“I believe this is your kettle.” he said to one of my new colleagues.

He went into some or other dialogue about finding their’s in a box, apologised, without really seeming all that apologetic and then left.

“At least he apologised,” I heard someone say.

“Yeah,” another commented, “I’m not surprised.”

“First they stole our land, and now it’s our kettles.”

Maybe, I thought, taking a step backwards is the right thing for me at this point in my life.  I needed to broaden my world and meet new people and do different things.

And the kettle story didn’t hurt.