I have two sides to myself.
One is the stoner life of the party and one is the designated sober driver.
I used to think that leading a “correct” life means leading the boring ascetic life of the designated driver. Of leaving all the ways of the world, losing one’s excesses, wearing hemp and singing kumbaya and telling people “don’t do drugs”.
I think this artificial sainthood void of authentic laughter with hallow repetitions of 108 “Oms” and 25 “Hail Mary”s (done it) is no better than unfettered hedonism or military discipline.
And that life of the party, like ego, the insecure self important drama queen, the catty and confused indecisive bitch, inspite of its many faults – can never be accused of being boring. And no matter how we try, the ego is here to stay.
So, instead of being a self righteous goody two shoes, I make friends with my inner bad girl. I acknowledge that it is there and yes, i have great fun with the troubles it gets me into
But like a wiser and older drunk, I now acknowledge my limit.
If I go beyond 2 puffs of spliff, I aint leaving the house to party.
And 3 times beyond the coughing limit, i will go transcendental.
So yes, I will not ask us ladies to deny ourselves of sic clothes, foodfests or your drug of choice.
But, for the love of drugs, let us know our limits.
Because at the rate that we have gone, that party ho has put all the kids on a school bus, set it on fire and is driving it off the cliff. It is time to heed our inner designated sober driver, sit Ms Stoner Partypants down and tell her-
“bitch- you gotta know your limit”
And this blog will discuss our limit on how we can have fun without setting the bus on fire.
Let’s do this.
What brought me here?
If you will read the archives of my blog, you will see that this journey of mine is not void of the insecurity of my ego. Of showing off how fucking awesome I am yadda yadda yadda.
Though I have kept the archives as they are for you to criticise and make fun of, I now come back with a selfish/selfless intention with well set boundaries.
This is what I believe in:
That we women are not helpless in this dire situation we find ourselves in. And by owning up to our past ignorance in the face of the decisions we have made, making peace with ourselves and others, we can do something about it.
And I believe that what truly is good for you, the individual (not what is dictated by the beauty industry) is also good for the whole planet.
And this belief of harmonious happiness for all is what brought me here.
For I know I cannot be happy at the expense of other’s unhappiness. A world is possible where everyone wins, in fact, it is the only situation that can guarantee our survival as a race and the planet we inhabit.
Mind you though that this is not a foolish altruistic act…
In my life, I always try to find a way of helping people, sometimes even veering away from my own “agenda” just to be of help. And I have to admit, oftentimes i find myself in trouble for doing so.
Now, I admit that this is not the way to do it, this is not the proper way to be kind.
Kindness begins with ourselves.
On When To Help
Very recently, I learned a big life lesson from someone I wanted so much to help but cant. And from that experience, I have learned about the meaning of real kindness.
To treat everyone without prejudice and respect their own journey. That I can only really help those who take responsibility for their own situation. And taking responsibility is a decision that only oneself can decide on her own.
And for people who don’t take responsibility and give other people blame?
I leave these people alone. Because this is a part of their journey which I have to respect.
And this, is real kindness.
Giving peace of mind to myself, respecting others’ journey and being of help the right way when it really can solve problems from the root and make a difference.
Rowena is an engineer who has done intensive criticism in her past as a manager of a global makeup brand.
Honed to find fault in the most beautiful of supermodels, put a marketing spin to the most mundane of products and making scandalous amounts of money along the way – she now enjoys life stylishly vagabonding and designing luxilitarian products.
Her first published literature was as a groupie, titled “How to have your toyboy, and eat it too.” Her most remembered piece of literature is her goodbye email to the corporate world- the type that you will only write if you have won the lottery.
She once had aspirations of being a rockstar and was the vocalist to an all-female male bashing band called “My Black Bra”. The band didn’t see the light of day as 3 of her bandmates got pregnant.
She can derive the engine efficiency of an otto cycle and can say “I can’t, I have my period”, in 32 languages, which, she suspects, is the reason why she is still single.