Tag: winnie the pooh

What to do when you can’t do much – Dad edition

Part of being a fulltime work-at-home father and taking care of your baby daughter all day, while your partner is off to university, is to be ok with not being able to do anything at all.

Pose me with this problem, a few years back, I would have probably gone crazy. Thankfully, 12 years of university experience came through and gave me an indispensable ability to adapt to fast-changing environments, or in other words, my daughter.

Now, children come in all forms and fortunately, my daughter is an absolute angel. Of course, this offer doesn’t discount its fair share of troubles, but as long as we are able to maintain a consistent routine of dad doing absolutely nothing but procrastinate all day with his daughter, then we are talking business.

At first, the transition was very difficult. It was frustrating that I couldn’t do my hobbies or work on my own terms. Schedules weren’t schedules anymore. Rather, my planner became the equivalent of a versatile Power Morpher, morphing into different Rangers that I had to contend with every day.

But, as the months passed by, I realized that there was a lot more to the chaos than I gave credit for.

Don’t underestimate the value of doing nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear, and not bothering.

Winnie the Pooh

Pooh was right. Spending time with my daughter and just absorbing what she had to offer while committing to this daily ritual of procrastination really opened my eyes to all the valuable little details of my life.

In every moment that I got to share with my daughter, I found an entire life’s worth of inspiration, joy, and comfort. I learned to listen more than I have ever before, experiencing a great boost in my mental state, and an explosion of energy when it came to my creative pursuits. In my daughter’s company, I was seeing life through her eyes and experiencing the wonder of many firsts to come.

So, in due time, I was able to turn the tables and figure out four important things that I can do when I can’t do much in the first place:

1. It’s all about perspective.

Children are great at making you reconsider your perspective on just about anything. I used this to great benefit when it came down to tackling work and learning to reframe my mindset when confronted by new challenges.

2. Developing a mental diary/sketchbook

I didn’t have much time to do writing during the day, so how could I still get work done, when I’m not sitting in front of a computer? Carrying a mental diary/sketchbook of sorts is perfect for this. I capitalized on this during my daughter’s naptime and quiet playtime, creating mental charts on my graphic novel plots, sketchbook ideas, science articles to write, and developing a mental monologue on my professional work and creative hobbies. Once my partner came home, thanks to all the mental preparation, I would get all my day’s work done in the span of an hour or two. Productivity + Efficiency = Success!

3. Lots of Reading

You can find no better reading partner than your own child. My daughter loves books and she loves going through them by herself. Dad has a long reading list of his own, spanning all the stuff he wants to learn when it comes to writing novels, art, and fun. It is about time that he works through that list. So, what do we do? We read together. My daughter loves it when I can get involved in what she does by doing something similar. This leaves me with the opportunity of learning something new and improving my skills while teaching some to my daughter as well. Also, this works especially well during naptime!

4. Seeing the bigger picture and the value of time

Every good thing comes to an end. Children grow up REALLY fast. My daughter is an extreme case of that but I’m happy with it. She has taught me the value of time and how important it is to enjoy every moment we have with our loved ones, whenever and wherever possible. Indeed, these moments are precious memories we can revisit for many more years to come.

With all that said, rather than fight to work against my daughter’s flow, I made my routine a part of her own, enhancing my own productivity as a result. Most importantly, I have fully embraced the fact that there is nothing wrong in taking a step back and doing absolutely nothing for part of the day. After all, when it comes to children, there is always a happy surprise waiting to inspire you, around every corner.

Moving on…

I started writing a journal right around the time of my grandfather’s passing. I believe my decision to do so was in an effort to confront a loved one’s death and a reaction to what was a coming-of-age experience. I’ve kept up with my journal to this day, and it now serves as a treasure trove of memories.

Memories are a powerful emotion. My writing has largely been inspired by the experiences I have had over the course of my life. Along the way, I have gradually collected a library of the same, in my journal, that I’ve come to value dearly.

A few months ago, I posted a review on Will Eisner’s graphic novels. Among the ones I read, The Building left a long-lasting impression. Its premise focused on a building that served as the setting for the drama that brought together the story’s cast of characters. With the passing of time, the building’s subsequent aging and the corresponding circumstances reflect pivotal moments in each character’s life and their attachment to a building that has become synonymous with their life’s travails.

When my grandfather passed away, the decision was made for renovations to be done and for his home to be rented out to another family. I, on the other hand, was adamant that the house and its contents be left as they were, serving as a memorial in remembrance of the wonderful moments my family and I had shared with my grandfather in its quarters. In retrospect, I believe my frustrations were born of my unwillingness to let go but in due time I would do exactly that, leaning instead towards the descriptive passages of my journal to remember the irreplaceable memories of my grandfather and his home where I had spent much of my childhood. That was more than a decade ago.

Now, 29 years old, I found myself doing the same on the occasion of the passing of a close friend and mentor. Here too there was a venue, another building to remember. Gathering my accessories I traveled back in time to revisit it, allowing those memorable moments I had shared with my mentor to wash over the closeted corners of my mind. At times, a part of me wondered if my efforts were futile in nature and  no different than the actions of my younger counterpart, in my inability to let go.

An answer initially felt out of reach but looking back at Eisner’s The Building I was able to string together a response. I realized that my struggle wasn’t about an inability to let go but a work in progress to accept a natural ritual of life we all experience at some point in our lives. It is in many ways similar to writing a story, and one that allows us to cherish the past while continuing our individual journey in the present.

It is a story that offers the bittersweet truth that time will always continue to flow forward. Often, this reality leaves us restless. It drives us to reach out to our memories, snapshots that somehow provide a semblance of permanence and peace, against the inevitable tempest of change.

At the same time, understanding this has also helped me realize how important it is to cherish the present, and to learn to live in the moment. What better can we do in memory of our loved ones than by living those moments that made us together, and sharing them with those who make our present in an eternal tribute.

TIMELESS

I awoke this morning, my dry eyes struggling to gain clarity amidst my groggy state.  Walking over to the kitchen, I would return and fall back onto my bed, draping a wet compress over my face, sighing in relief as my eyes welcomed the residual moisture.

Taking a moment to clear my mind, I spent the next few minutes recalling the memories of the past year before closing the door upon the roller coaster journey that was 2017. Sitting back against the wall, I looked out the window, only to meet a white landscape. It penetrated the stillness of my surroundings, inciting memories of my crash-landing at the planet Abafar, a few years back, in the company of my good friend R2D2 while ardently binge-watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars.

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Our motley crew at Abafar discussing the specs of the planet. Awesome show, for all Star Wars fans out there. 

My month long absence has seen me confront the end of a semester of work, and an intense study schedule for final exams. The stress that ensued from said experiences retreated following the two weeks of Christmas break during which I relaxed as I saw fit, by doing absolutely nothing.

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A large part of this nothing involved catching up on the sleep I had missed out on over the school year. Christmas Eve was inspired by the excitement that I crafted for my loved ones. The desolate cold of winter, and I mean the -40 degrees Celsius that we Edmontonians love, was supplanted by the nostalgic memories and rituals of time past with my family and friends that I seem to periodically recollect upon this festive occasion.

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Winter is a complicated affair for those who live in Edmonton…

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but we can always find a way to cozy up. 

Time waits for no one but in it’s passing we find life’s wonderful gifts, memories that forever resonate eternal in our hearts. To embrace and cherish the memories of my past, to live the present, and to happily anticipate the future. This is my mantra. Alighting  upon a new year, these words echoed resoundingly in my mind.

Often, we can’t see the forest for the trees. New Years is precisely such an occasion. Growing up, New Years was an opportunity to look back upon my mistakes, and resolve my lingering doubts in empty resolutions and promises that never saw the light of day.

Not anymore!

A new year, a new beginning, but not because I’m tying up loose ends of my past while forging ahead toward the future. Rather, it is about embracing and paying due respects to the past, those multitude of experiences, those lost instances that have led me all the way to where I am now.

In that vein, I’m thankful for everything that has happened over the past year. All the ups and downs, as well as the lingering staleness of an uneasy equilibrium between the two, all of it…it was just perfect. Why so? In my opinion, because life has to be so, in order to provide some sort of personal incentive and impetus. I found both on a number of unforgettable occasions that will forever tickle the strings of my heart.

Above all, I learned the importance to stay true to myself, to believe in myself, to fall and learn to get back up on to my feet, to fail so that I may succeed, to never give up, to love and to express said love to those who I considered important. More so, I learned to enjoy life and be thankful for all that I have. Making the best of the present, I found fulfillment in the individual that I am and the one I hope to be a few years down the road.

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The past is a reflection of the present, and the present is a gateway to the future in the never-ending journey that is life.

What we consider the present may be nothing more than a temporary and transient construct of time. In a split second, the now may become a window to the past, an instant that is seemingly lost to us, but we always have the choice to make that instant, a timeless memory…

With that said, Happy New Year everyone!

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Nostalgia – A Celebration Of The Past

Listening to music is a favorite pastime of mine when it comes to sitting in front of my computer and writing away my thoughts be it my journal, my novels, or just plain old school work. I don’t necessarily identify with any particular genre of music (vocal and instrumental alike), and as such go with any piece that suits my mood further aligning with the fact that my selections vary wildly from artist to artist.

Over the last few weeks, my efforts have predominantly revolved around the completion of a literature review about my PhD research. I completed the draft just a few days back. Relishing in the bout of relief that ensued, I lounged back into my chair while listening to a randomized instrumental playlist on YouTube. I would soon alight upon a particular piece that would kindle the memories of my past, drawing my eyes back to the screen of my laptop, where I was welcomed by the opening to a show I had watched in my childhood.

It didn’t take long for my bout of relief to transform into one of nostalgia. Indulging in the bittersweet bliss of the feeling, I sank into the warm and fuzzy emotions of fond memories from my past, subsequently delving into the late hours of the night on a marathon of memories that took me over. This particular scenario was most apt, relating to my earliest inspirations that engaged my creative skills and fueled my love for writing and music, namely, Cartoons from the 1990s. In that vein, I could relate, or for lack of a better word, restrain myself to a few cartoons that struck my nostalgic chords the most all the way back to my childhood, long before anime ruled the roost of my creativity.

It all began on a sunny day jog back home from school to meet my two friends, Christopher Robin and Winnie-The-Pooh. 

This would officially be the first of the may cartoons I ever watched as a kid, taking me back to my days in my hometown in Madurai, running home from school, only to sit down in front of the TV and share in the whimsical adventures of my two friends Christopher Robin and Winnie-The-Pooh.

We would also be joined by two other friends from the distant lands of Arabia: Aladdin and Genie.

With no idea of how vast the world was at such a young age, these four would be a large part of my childhood where I learned to

and when it came to being a mischievous kid  that

all in the time-span of an hour’s limited streaming of cartoons on the single channel that ran on the T.V.

Soon, I would be lucky enough to have my chance to explore the world when my family first moved to Egypt. This time there were two T.V.s in the house though the cartoons were still a limited treasure to come by.

The cartoons would usually broadcast around a three hour session early every Saturday morning when my baby sister (half-asleep most of the time, if I may add) and I would sneak over to the T.V. room while our parents were fast asleep. This time my adventures would alternate between outer-space and our planet as I accompanied Flash Gordon and his crew (the animated feature of 1996) hovering over to futuristic and past timelines with good family friends in the Flintstones (celebrating Christmas before the birth of Jesus Christ), the Jetsons (who would be the preface to my own experience of the technology boom that followed the late ’90s), and a pinch of freakishness to add to the concoction in the Addams Family.

Along with a whole host of other characters each with their singular adventures, I would find myself surrounded by an ever growing family of friends who served as my inspirations in the Cartoons I watched as a kid.

You had the anthropomorphic cats T-Bone and Razor from Swat Kats, who were my first taste of being a legitimate bad-ass, to the incredibly fun Mystery Inc. gang and their impressively subtle mysteries, as well as a slew of others from the manly Centurions, the infuriating Dee-Dee from Dexter’s Laboratory, and the Elvis Presley of Cartoon characters, Johnny Bravo, of whom my mother wasn’t necessarily a fan (in retrospect, I could see why), and his far more adventurous and wiser cousin in Johnny Quest.

But everything that has a beginning has an end, and so as the years passed I would soon find other interests that would catch my attention.

Diverting as I did from the cartoons of the yester-years, I would delve into anime and other forms of entertainment in a world that gradually evolved into a social media frenzy. But that transition is indeed what makes those very memories so nostalgic.

Funnily enough, I’m now at a stage in my life where as I ponder about the future, I only seem to find more pit-stops where I visit and relish the company of the friends of my past. I would have never known then as a kid that one day I would aspire to become a writer/artist, and here I am following in the footsteps of my dreams propelled by those very same inspirations of the past.

Though life is an adventure filled with beginnings and separations, nothing can deny the eternity of memories, and in that sense, this bout of nostalgia was in essence a celebration of the past, and a merry precursor to the good weekend’s rest that has followed!