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87. Trying to Braai My Own Dreams to a Crisp at Twenty-Five
I met a young barista from Khayelitsha whose goal is to one day own his own café. He claims to be passionate about coffee; he claims to treat each customer’s order as the first of his day. He knows it’s challenging. My cynic inside tells me, with bitterness, he will grow out of this practice, that the shift work will…
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86. Trying to Sleep at Twenty-Five
Last night, I evaporated from sleep at what I thought to be half six. I’m a good sleeper, generally, and an even better meaning-maker so, naturally, I had been tapped by one of the Green Point Ghosts I picked up on my Sunday kayaking outing. I pondered the friendly spirit. We had a conversation and She sprung to memory, for…
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80. The Triangle of Purpose (I Stole This)
My first (and I hope, only) visit to Pittsburgh, PA, USA; my park-path crossed that of two white men, one with a clipboard, the other with an at-home-creator tripod in-hand. They were decidedly harmless enough. My best friend and I consented to their interview and understood their creative mission: anchor the education of America’s youth in each child’s unique purpose.…
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78. Trying to Learn Taxes at Twenty-Five
It is not original to moan about the heady frivolity of tertiary education but *disclaimer* I’m about to expose the privilege in my ignorance to tax filing and go on and on about the possibly entirely intentional injustice of their assumption that I magically know what to do with a W-9. It’s also not original to point out that there’s…
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77. Trying to Schedule an Ultrasound at Twenty-Five (it’s impossible)
Today I rose at what felt like the dead of night. A wicked alarm at the foot of my bed came all-too-early: 6 AM to ensure enough time to make room in my bladder for a prescribed 32 ounces of water one hour prior to my ultrasound appointment. I scheduled the appointment for 8 AM on the first Monday of…
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76. Trying To Not Steal at Twenty-Five
On Asteya (non-stealing) On registering desire and attaining the desired through legitimate means Question(s): What am I stealing? What do I want? What drives humans to steal? How can I be of service to you without feeling entitled to your gratitude? Answers?: Greed for money, hunger for attention I hunger to be admired To be the object of your gratitude…
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75. Trying to Tidy a Mess I Did Not Make at Twenty-Five
I used to say that anger didn’t exist in me — I thought I was too good for anger; that it was an emotion reserved for those less evolved than myself and that it was a waste of time I have humbled myself or I myself have been humbled since then I have embarked on a journey into my anger…
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74. Trying to Make Eye Contact at Twenty-Five
Zimbabwe operates on the US dollar but without any coins — this morning, as I strolled across town in a Saturday tardiness, I struggled through my hangover to calculate how much a stop at the seven to eleven convenience store might cost me; here, when I want to buy a plastic bottle of water for 30 cents, I either pay…
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71. Trying to Write at Almost Twenty-Five
I met a man who calls himself Matteo. I met him in the mountains and he went on and on within various topics and his most inspired, to me, became his brazen and enthusiastic claim that not all things are meant for all people that some huts should stay huts, that some huts should stay not four-star accommodations with cable…
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70. Weeks Seven and Eight
All I can see is blessings — like I am wearing blinders to whatever it was that afflicted me before — I felt the fears yesterday — fears of failure and of being held accountable but I think the point is less the fear and more the feeling the fact that I could actually feel the fears. Because fear when…
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Trying To at Twenty-Five: The Blog 