The Re-Pack.

Life is like re-packing my ordered cupboard every so often to place my trusty garments into their rightful places. Even if I packed my cupboard in the neatest, tidiest way, if I am in a rush- it'll be tossed out and shoved back in for crimes it didn't commit. My cupboard then looks like the very mess I started with. Sometimes, a cupboard can resemble life. When all of the clothes are sprawled out on the floor, life is chaotic. When items are placed into shelves they do not belong, it can feel like those awkward moments we wished that we did not stumble into. Then of course: The RE-PACK, because at some point or another- IT HAS TO HAPPEN- we have to put it all back together again.

If life was like a cupboard where one could see one's actions displayed to one, one would be able to lift it up, examine it and then decide whether to toss the experience or not. As one sorts through the mess of bad decisions and unwanted experiences, one is ready to categorise these and put them into their correct shelves. I begin the re-pack with my old clothes that I have to let go of like torn T-shirts, pants (which I have not been able to fit in since high school) and the decoloured T-shirts that have been there since before ancient time. All of these, I would classify as the items in my life which I have outgrown. That time that comes for (hopefully) everyone when one realises that there is something new that awaits one. So, I fold up these items and place it lovingly into a bag to symbolise my growth.

Then the items that I hastily shoved into the incorrect shelves out of being late, a-speed- against- time hurry and out of just pure laziness- these items needed to find their way back to where they belonged. These garments were my jackets, exercise attire, my jeans and my favourite T-shirts. These were the clothes that encapsulated my life and the core of who I am. My jackets protect me from chilly mornings and icy nights. My exercise attire motivates me to stay in what I call a healthy shape. And my faithful jeans and favourite T-shirts give me the lift that I always need to feel like myself. So, why was I forcing them into shelves that they didn’t belong in? Why, when I’m in a speedy rush, did I neglect what was most important to me? These items symbolise those times when I placed myself into experiences where I could have asserted myself more; where I should have placed more effort into looking after values that were worth taking care of. So, I fold up these items and lovingly place them into their correct shelves: The jackets with the jackets, the exercise attire with my awaiting swimwear and jeans and T-shirts with my “just chill” shelf.

My hands rummage through what is left of the chaotic mess and find the new items that remained shyly behind. One-by-one I raised them for inspection. Some of them still had their cheap and expensive price tags attached to their necks and hips. Scanning them I realised that these clothing items still had something to prove: Whether it made me look slim or fat, whether they were comfortable or tight, whether the colour made me feel happy or sad but most importantly- If I still liked them or not. It’s interesting how one can buy clothing items in that glamorous moment and in one’s mind one could picture oneself on that show: America’s Next Top Model and then coming home it looks like an item from a garage sale. It just proves that new experiences can change according to our negative and positive attitudes and perceptions. Sometimes when we step out of the situations, we can have different perspectives. I packed these items in a shelf of their own- whether I liked them or not. When the time comes I am going to take a chance- flash my smile, curve my lower legs and feel comfortable in whatever I choose.

Having placed all the items into where they belonged I reflected on my handiwork. The bag that I was ready to part with represented those outgrown experiences as well as hurtful experiences that I could let go of at any given moment should I choose to. Today is THAT day. Those moments that I hurried into without thought, leaving behind what was important to me I found those trusty jackets, exercise attire and jeans and T-shirts in the shelves where they belonged; in the shelves that I value. And the new clothing items, in their own shelf, symbolises fresh ideas, new challenges and unique experiences up ahead.

So, the re-pack was completed. Everything fit where they belonged. A smile takes to the ends of my lips because I know that I will be re-visiting this cupboard. It might not be right away, but sooner or later my clothes may tossed out in a hurry, shoved into the wrong shelf but I have to make the time to set it right- place it into their rightful place. The re-pack will come again, it has to. Without the re-pack nothing has changed and without change, we haven’t grown.

The Icy Interview.

My palms were sweaty and my belly bounced around as butterflies flapped like crazy inside whilst my breathing was all a "huff-huff". Why? I couldn't figure it out. It was just an interview: a handful of questions about the person I thought I knew, right? Wrong. The Job World. The world that holds our ambitions so tightly in its grip. Some of us needed to take a detour and then re-route just to get to where it is we thought we wanted to be. Nevertheless, whether it's the work place we want to be at or not, we inhale our breaths like air into a balloon (the only difference is- we have to remember not to tie the knot- and exhale) and we put our best heel forward.

I walked with my knees like jelly, like any second they were going to give way so that I could greet the ground. Nervous smiles plastered on my face until eventually I made it into the room. Cold- like all of a sudden winter only existed in that room. A list of do's and don'ts sped speedily through my brain. "So, tell us about yourself?" came the first voice. Like ice, my brain literally froze and I was dumbfounded as to who I was before I entered the cell of a hopeful job. Frozen, everything about myself was chilled in a distant memory that I couldn't reach. Rolling labels off my tongue seemed like the easiest thing to do: "I am friendly, I like writing..."

As I spoke, it seemed as though body language wouldn't play its part. I wondered if my mouth even twitched whilst talking. Did I blink? I couldn't remember. "So, why should you be considered for the job?" came another voice. Why was I here again? Oh yes! Because I am smart, hard-working and driven. The words seemed to solidify as each word froze as it fell off from my tongue like frost bite. Blank stares- like ice holding silence trapped inside its cold icy state.

Sub-zero hit. A silly answer and laughs filled the air like hot steam breathed out on a chilly morning. The steam like smoke seemed to blow it's air into my face and I couldn't breathe. A giggle escaped my throat to hide my already nervous being. "We'll let you know," came the ending to the Ice Age. My hand like snow shook the end of the interview and I could breathe again. I hastily breathed the warm air into my welcoming lungs. "What just happened?" I questioned my busy brain.

When the stars popped out, I resolved myself to change my attitude. Winter doesn't last forever. I have to believe that anything is possible. I have to be like a parrot- if all else fails. When the nerves kick in- all I have to do is confidently remember my lines, smile with courage, and put on a red carpet performance to match my paperwork! After all, I did all of the theory, I just have to prove that I can put it all into practice. Last but definitely not least, I should always stash a little bit of sunshine under my arm.The moment I introduce myself to say: "Hello", I should shine like the star that I am.

Secret veils

Most people classify a veil as a dark material used to cover something that we don't want anyone to see. In some parts of the world, the veil is seen as honoring one's beauty and modesty and protects us from others but, more importantly- ourselves. A veil can hide what we so desperately do not want others to see and yet it can empower one to an extent that one can be blinded by one's own flaws.

Not seeing a person's eyes, nose and mouth along with its natural expressions can cause the one on the receiving end much frustration. To hear a laugh but see no smile; to see the head tilt in thought but see no understanding of the question; to hear a gasp but not witness the surprise, for some people this goes against natural human interaction. Underneath that dark material is someone who listens, sees and observes the majestic world as much as someone whose face feels the wind freely. Under that mysterious layer is someone who dreams, who hopes and who fears; whose childish nature longs to dance in the rain.

Imagine, for a moment, in your world of dreams that those closest to you had their faces veiled. All that mattered was that which your soul wished to express. No one judged your expression whether you were judging them. No one sought to force you to say anything you didn't wish to say, because you wouldn't be able to tell what their expression was trying to tell you. Imagine a time where all a friendship was grounded in was what our faceless personalities revealed and our clothes and status meant absolutely NOTHING. How well will your soul speak for you?

A veil is not only something physical. Those of us who wear our faces for all to see, wear veils too. We disguise ourselves in different situations as what we believe is best suited in that time. We hold back when others walk with the their hard shoes on our fragile feelings. We react, without expression, when we try so hard not to judge another's choices. And we willingly choose not share a lot of things about ourselves in fear that we might be darkly judged.

Our lace cover-up conceals our secrets, our fears and our ambitions. Our hidden thoughts are kept back by our see-through veils as our eyes investigate our surroundings. Some people think that only a physical veil can create a barrier. Whilst some people do not even consider those of us whose veils are the glistening mystery in our eyes. Our veils are a symbol of modesty, of a beauty that, when only the eyes are exposed, we truly recognise within ourselves.

Secrets: Something we fight so dearly to protect. They stick so closely to our hearts, they are those mysterious moments that we would rather it remain unknown. Our dreams: That happy place we snooze into which drives our ambitions. Our dreams: We keep close to our hearts. Our fears: Keeping those dreams like secrets in a pillow to protect it in fear that someone might stumble over it.

Our veils give us courage to believe that we are more than what we appear to be. Our dark veils conceal our happiness, our sadness and our anger. But our high-pitched laughter, the sparkle in our dazzling eyes which creep up without our permission, that is our truth. Who needs to be dolled up? Our natural appearance are who we are and we are bootyliciously beautiful! Let's respect all kinds of veils, yours might be see-through and the girl down the road might have a physical veil. Common ground: WE ALL WEAR ONE. Which one is yours? Lace, satin, bright-coloured flowers or natural see-through?