For a good while now the notion of being an independent woman has been hailed as a great thing, having a good job, nice house and the prospect of as many dates as possible. What happens though when you are bored of being independent and want to regress a little to being something in between a kept woman (or man) and oh so alone.
Don’t get me wrong, having your own job, house, car etc is a great thing to be able to boast, however having these things shouldn’t mean that you are forfeiting a stable relationship while you are there. Society does seem to favour either one or the other, you can either be a good housewife or an independent person / business woman. I like to think that everybody is independent, we all lead our own lives and unless we are in a very restricting situation have our own opinions and rights. Being a housewife, stay at home mum or simply married doesn’t make you any less independent. Does it?
Assuming though that one is of the working kind, minus partner, with own house and or car, there can come the point when you get bored of being independent. You can have as many dates as you want but sometimes not having that special person at home can be one of the loneliest feelings. Just as you can fill you days with as many activities as you want but when they are finished, it’s still just you.
I understand that relationships aren’t for everybody and others (like myself) can struggle to find that right person. Given the choice however, understand you can be partnerpendent!
Wednesday 6 October 2010
Tuesday 5 October 2010
Who do you think you are?
The air around Irene is hot, providing an atmosphere that is stifling. Yet at the same time it has a peculiar feeling of home to it. Although very much an outsider to this world that she has never been to before and with people whom she has never met the majority; she can feel her roots burying deep into the world around her. Sitting on the bus amongst these people who she has just found out to be family, from back home and many of who don’t live more than 10 miles away from her, everything is surreal.
Irene’s grandfather was a Jamaican man; he came over to England many moons ago and set up family in England, where they stayed. Growing up Irene’s family was very nuclear, mum, dad and herself. So when they were contacted by ‘some family from back home’, Irene’s mum dismissed the notion and deemed it a scam. However five years later when the offer had come around again, her mum decided to explore further. Irene herself was going through some life changing emotional turmoil and was coming out the other side. So when her mum offered to fund a once in a lifetime trip to Jamaica she jumped at the chance.
150 people and a bus later, Irene feels full of emotion.
“The idea I had in my head was so different, I pictured a flat island, mostly beach and warmth” She thinks to herself, little did she know that as an island, yes it is warm but it is mountainous too. Going around the quite substantial roads in the most rickety of people carriers, soaking in the views and the sights they all headed towards where Bob Marley used to live. The new family she had inherited, having never met them before were nice enough people, a mix of ages, husbands, wives, kids and grandparents all sharing their wisdom as most had been there before.
“Now, don’t be taking none of the produce from the people at the gate, they may not charge you and you may be offered a tour which provides free marijuana, do not do this” said the tour guide firmly “it is not in your best interest”.
Looking out the window Irene saw some of the biggest supplies of weed that the eye could behold. Every now and then it may be seen that a younger person around London has a little bag, but these were actual branch sized amounts being waved at them. It was when Irene heard sniggering and laughing that she actually focused her eyes to the people who were selling this merchandise.
“My goodness, they’re only children, imagine to be in such a situation”. She mumbled to herself, which was promptly overshadowed by new members of her own family laughing at everything from the looks, to the way the street sellers were acting and everything in between. Disgusted and angered she lashed out. These family members may have been young, but they were no younger than she.
“What is your problem, may I remind you, that if your granddad hadn’t decided to leave this country, that could well be you over there, don’t think you’d be wearing the clothes you are or have your hair pressed to the perfection that it is. You may well be that same person there just trying to make a living, feed your family, furthermore you’d not be in school like they should be”. Her rant went on, stunning these new people into silence, see she may have been the quite type and her family thought this too. When pushed however, Irene would happily speak up.
You see she knew where she came from, the question is do you know where you come from?
Irene’s grandfather was a Jamaican man; he came over to England many moons ago and set up family in England, where they stayed. Growing up Irene’s family was very nuclear, mum, dad and herself. So when they were contacted by ‘some family from back home’, Irene’s mum dismissed the notion and deemed it a scam. However five years later when the offer had come around again, her mum decided to explore further. Irene herself was going through some life changing emotional turmoil and was coming out the other side. So when her mum offered to fund a once in a lifetime trip to Jamaica she jumped at the chance.
150 people and a bus later, Irene feels full of emotion.
“The idea I had in my head was so different, I pictured a flat island, mostly beach and warmth” She thinks to herself, little did she know that as an island, yes it is warm but it is mountainous too. Going around the quite substantial roads in the most rickety of people carriers, soaking in the views and the sights they all headed towards where Bob Marley used to live. The new family she had inherited, having never met them before were nice enough people, a mix of ages, husbands, wives, kids and grandparents all sharing their wisdom as most had been there before.
“Now, don’t be taking none of the produce from the people at the gate, they may not charge you and you may be offered a tour which provides free marijuana, do not do this” said the tour guide firmly “it is not in your best interest”.
Looking out the window Irene saw some of the biggest supplies of weed that the eye could behold. Every now and then it may be seen that a younger person around London has a little bag, but these were actual branch sized amounts being waved at them. It was when Irene heard sniggering and laughing that she actually focused her eyes to the people who were selling this merchandise.
“My goodness, they’re only children, imagine to be in such a situation”. She mumbled to herself, which was promptly overshadowed by new members of her own family laughing at everything from the looks, to the way the street sellers were acting and everything in between. Disgusted and angered she lashed out. These family members may have been young, but they were no younger than she.
“What is your problem, may I remind you, that if your granddad hadn’t decided to leave this country, that could well be you over there, don’t think you’d be wearing the clothes you are or have your hair pressed to the perfection that it is. You may well be that same person there just trying to make a living, feed your family, furthermore you’d not be in school like they should be”. Her rant went on, stunning these new people into silence, see she may have been the quite type and her family thought this too. When pushed however, Irene would happily speak up.
You see she knew where she came from, the question is do you know where you come from?
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