Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

               --- Invictus, William Ernest Henley

Invictus. Latin for unconquered.

To conquer. According to the Oxford dictionary, it is a verb that means to “overcome in war or by effort”. Its nearest synonyms are 'to crush' or 'to defeat'.

To conquer the known world. Many great men have such glories under their belts. Sargon. Xerxes. Alexander the Great. Ghengis Khan. Attila the Hun. Caesar Augustus. Napoleon Bonaparte.

They came. They saw. They conquered. Maybe Caesar should have said “I overcame. I oversaw. I conquered.”

Yet, the other side of the coin is to be unconquered. To prevail over adversity. To win. To be a victor. To triumph.

It is that which we all strive to do and to be. To conquer and to be unconquered. To triumph over adversity. To win. To be invictus.

That is what I am. Invictus. No matter what. No matter where or when. No matter how hard the world may press down. I am invictus. Bloody, but unbowed. Soul unconquered. Ever unconquerable.

Hoozaah!

Lovely start to my first draft of the speech I am writing for when I finally achieve world domination, don't you think?

Forgive me. I am trying to keep myself sane by amusing myself with thoughts of strategies for world domination.

While Jack Dawson from Titanic declared that he's “the king of the world” before promptly dying an hour or so later, I do believe I have a better strategy than standing at the prow of an ill-fated ship destined to (literally) go down in history as a symbol of the hubris of man.

Strategy one: Line up all stupid people, then start shooting. Pros: We rid the world of stupid people. Cons: I don't think the International Court of Justice would approve.

Scratch that.

Strategy two: Buy off all those who disagree with you. Pros: We can finally have proof that money can buy happiness. Cons: I will be flat broke, which would effectively bring me back to square one.

Scratch that.

Strategy three: Marry the most powerful man in the world. Pros: It will be an affirmation that behind every powerful man is an even more powerful woman. Cons: Who IS the most powerful man in the world anyway?

Scratch that. Too iffy.

Hmmm... It's becoming clear to me that there is no clear path to world domination. I must go back to my drawing board.

*Muttering to self* You are invictus! You are unconquerable! You must conquer! You must win! You must not give up! You are invictus!

Note to self: Must change medication.

Sticky note to self: This is what happens when you spend too much time staring at numbers.

On a final note to self: Must find Mr. Darcy soon or will run mad.

A - She's Adorable!

“To be loved, be lovable.”

                        --- Ovid, Ars Amatoria

I am in love with this little girl with bright eyes and a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. When I take her in my arms and embrace her, she feels so soft and warm and fragile. She smells like powder and milk and that lovely, undeniably baby smell. She loves to laugh and dance, especially when she hears and sees her favorite cartoon, Backyardigans. And when she cries, my heart breaks easily. Her copious tears stream down her face as she bawls and reaches out to anyone willing to hug her.

She isn’t mine, but she is ours.

At the early age of one and a half years, she has clearly entered somewhat prematurely into her terrible twos period. More precocious and naughty, she recites the alphabet completely and clearly... counts higher than ten... sings Backyardigan songs... recognizes Dora the Explorer... and can name at least ten capitals of the world, including the capital of Finland! (Helsinki, if you don't know it yet.) Her sentences are clear, her memory is excellent, and her sleeping habits are adorably funny.

Because of her, my sister and I find it difficult to even contemplate on leaving the country, whether to work, migrate, or even have an extended vacation, for fear that we would miss out on things she does as she grows up.

Clearly, she's got us wrapped around her dainty little fingers.

I am not one who is overly fond of children. In fact, my tolerance for kids is rather low. I am always relieved to return them to their rightful parents at the end of seemingly interminable three hours. That's my threshold. Three hours. Except for Andie.

With Andie, I can have her with me for as long as she wants. If she never wants to leave my side, I wouldn't mind, but I'm pretty sure my lovely brother and my wonderful sister-in-law would.

People have asked me if I want to have children of my own, and, believe me, I have thought and pondered on this life-altering question quite a bit. Despite the fact that I am probably past my ideal childbearing years (at 35, having your first baby would put you right smack on the endangered list) and the fact that I neither have husband nor boyfriend, having children is not something that I can actually plan for or consider at the moment. Of course, thanks to medical science, it is no longer impossible to have children beyond 35, but the truth is... I don't want one now. And I'm not sure I want one in the future. I'm not saying I'll never want one, but... hey, if Mr. Darcy comes along and sweeps me off my feet... why wouldn't I want his child? As it is... there's no Mr. Darcy for me... yet.

So, happily, I will take on the role of doting aunt to my lovely, wonderful, beautiful, precious niece.

(That word actually brings my dad's joke back into my memory... A woman gave birth to twins. The nurse comes out to inform her anxious husband who arrived late for the delivery. He asks, “What are their names?” The nurse replied, “Oh, your brother named your daughter 'Denise'. The husband was quite relieved, saying, “Whew! I was worried for a while there. My brother has an awful sense of humor. What did he name my son?” And the nurse answered, “Oh, 'Denephew'.”)

I know the joke sucks, but you'll have to forgive me. My brother did name his daughter 'Andrea Denise'.