Meaning someone with multiple potentials. Multi- talented. Interested in many things. Good at many things. May not be a specialist in one thing but multiple. Passionate about one thing to the exclusion of others for a while and then, bored, moves on to the next thing.
This is not a bad thing. Listening to Emilie Wapnick’s 2015 talk on why some of us don’t have one true calling, I realised she was describing me perfectly. To a TEE. We are not anomalies to be prodded and nagged into focusing all our attention on ONE thing and sticking with it.
My background and interests are as varied as the fishes in the sea. In my career, I’ve been a Typist, Sales person, Store manager, Analyst, IT trainer, and Middle school teacher. Some of my interests have included: Running, Quilting, Painting/Art, Jewellery making, and Writing. When i’m interested in something, I pursue it. Then when I’m done, it’s over and I move on to the next thing. Writing is about the only constant thing since childhood. Although learning about something new excites me, I’ve never felt truly passionate about something enough to the exclusion of other things.
Now that would be boring and who wants a boring life?
Why is it when you mention that you’re African someone will invariably tell you they travelled to somewhere in Africa and then try to speak some words in the language to you even after you’ve told them the country you’re from and that you don’t speak whatever it is they’re trying to speak to you?
Take a deep breath girl. Whoosaiiii!
Case in point. I meet someone and we start to chat. Where are you from they say. I mention my country in West Africa.
Stranger: Oh i went to Tanzania once and lived there for a year.
Me: oh wow, awesome. How did you like it.
Stranger: blah blah blah I learnt a bit of Swahili (mumbles some words to me).
Me: *laughing* Oh no i don’t speak Swahili. That’s a language common in the Eastern, Southerly parts of Africa not in my country or West Africa.
Stranger: (a bit incredulously) oh really? I thought everyone in Africa spoke a little Swahili at least.
Me: Nope, not a word.
Guy then proceeds to try to say a few more words to test that I really did not speak it. This went on for some time and me now tiring of the entire conversation, tries to end it.
Me: Okay nice talking to you, gotta go now.
Stranger: Oh how do you say goodbye in Swahili I’ve forgotten.
Me: *coldly* I don’t speak Swahili.
Stranger: (completely ignoring my statement) oh yeah i think it’s *insert probably wrong Swahili word he thinks is goodbye*
Me: Sure i wouldn’t know but have a nice life *eye roll*
1 day late
Sore and itchy.
Bloated, irritated, tired, zombie
2 days late
Long glances in the mirror
Eagle eyes eager to detect
Tummy patting, headaches
4 days late
Dry, parched, constipated
Cramps. Always cramps
Thinks of balloons
Stirrings of excitement.
5 days late
Whispering in bed
Late night discussions. Excitement.
We must get a test
What time are you going to the pharmacy dear?
7 days late
Early morning trickle
Washes, gets dressed, coat on
He kisses me
Hope is like a welcomed guest that must not leave
Front door. Oops gotta visit the throne first
Sits down, wipes
I can’t swallow. Raging, tears, deep breath
Opens door.Why are you here?