The Humble Bumblebee

I’d recently seen the movie ‘Evita’ again for like the third time. While enjoying the show I got stuck at one particular rendition, where Madonna as Eva Peroni is trying to convince everyone around her (including her lover) that someday she’ll make it big. Her song touched me, well actually my misinterpretation of the lyrics “I wanna be, I’ve gotta be a Buenos Aires, Big Apple” sort of left me confused: why would she want so desperately to be a bumblebee? I now realise that the lyrics are not “I wanna be, I’ve gotta be a humble bumblebee”. I mean this is a woman who wanted to be someone, she wasn’t afraid to lead or be showy; in fact I think she thrived on that. It just got me thinking is all...


When in company my grandmother never forfeits the opportunity to mention that she has the most humble grandchildren ever. In doing so she becomes a little less modest, but then again I believe she has earned that right, she is 82 after all. Then I started working through the dots: Are we really humble or just fearful to disappoint? Or am I just the girl selling her soul to climb a ladder in order to be someone? Is this a fear of rejection that now manifests as humility?

So because I never threw my very few achievements in your face, am I humble? Or is it the meaningful ‘Please, Thank you and No thank, I’ve had enough’s that prompt you to believe I have that quality inside of me?

I think the Black Eyed Peas say it best: “I’m a bee, I’m a bee, I’m a humble bumblebee.

My Hand-me-down Life Re-visited

For the longest time (okay almost two weeks) I could not for the life of me understand why all my thoughts were pointing in one oblivious direction (not that I immediately saw that direction).


All the imagery was somewhat tangible (when can you ever see my imagery?). I managed to turn myself into an Ostrich, a most awkward and flightless bird who somehow managed to stick its head in the sand just as a tornado swirled the tiny grains of sand around its head obstructing already poor vision. And just like in those old cartoons where the characters stuck their head in the ground in America it would pop up in China, all my thoughts pointed there too. I myself felt small and the best way to challenge my height was to place me in juxtaposition to a wall that can withstand all that nature has thrown at it.

I blame the Beatles for that post because I started seeing everything with new eyes. I’ve decided to change, I know it’s a constant progression that never stops, but I am trying to see every mistake as a new adventure waiting to lead me to new heights (maybe just maybe I’ll grow, in more ways than one. Not only did I reference the Great Wall and an even greater bird but I even managed to throw in some Terracotta Warriors (just for good measure).

But still I could not fathom my African/ Chinese obsession all of a sudden... then I realised I’d seen pictures of P!atd when they were early this month in China. (These dudes influence me too much for my own good... but I’m not gonna complain).

My Hand-me-down Life

My heads stuck and there’s sand in my eyes and thudding in my ears and a heart racing at a mile a minute.

I’m a creature of habit. There’s truth in what we did... who we became... and how we changed the world for good. The future is just a bunch of hopes and dreams lying in wait to fall through the cracks.

We’re made of brick and stone, to create a wall that can surpass the ages (these walls have ears) infallible like the mascara running up my cheeks, that are rosy and red and cold just like the wall when seen through rose coloured glasses, like the ones that held onto our faces with duct-tape as we raced around the globe in a roller-coaster as our drinks sloshed around like the liquid in my favourite snow-globe; shaken not stirred!

I tug but my heads still stuck. The sand has blown away leaving my vision clearer than it ever was and I see the infinite wall staring back at me in all its greatness and an army before it made of stone unlike me.