Complex Simpliciti

A Night With Anthony Anaxagorou

2011-08-31T22:15:00.003+01:00

Last week, after a somewhat busy day at work, ambient lighting met infectious, dulcet tones, married captivating words and gave birth to an evening of entertainment that made me want to go home and write down every and any emotion I'd felt in the last 24 years, talk less of 24 hours. Where was I, I hear you ask? A quaint establishment in Bethnal Green, called The Gallery Cafe, which happened to be the setting for 'Anthony Anaxagorou Live'.

Early arrival meant that I got a choice seat but unexpected wait as proceedings did not start on time. I usually abhor waiting unknown stretches for most things but I didn't mind so much that evening. Maybe it was a combination of the mesmerising fairy lights contrasting the darkness of the outside world serving as a rather fitting backdrop, or possibly the anticipation of the great poets I was about to watch? Either way, I was content.

Unlike events I'd been to previously, the evening began with the open mic section. I'd signed myself up and was surprisingly called to the stage first. The slightly nerve-wracking regurgitation of my poem was well received and followed by a few other open mic recitations by others before one of London's admired spoken word artists, Raymond Antrobus took to the stage.

Accessible and clever. That's how I'd describe Ray's spoken word. While he performed light-hearted crowd pleasers that made us all smile or laugh at varying intervals, the poem that struck me, happened to be the most serious: 'The Hit Me Poem'. I'd heard it before and actually have it on my iPod but discovered a new found love for the piece after listening to it live for the first time.

His telling of an unfortunate and highly charged sequence of events with a former girlfriend was so simple and so effective that I felt as though I was in the room watching the scene unfold. I liked that Ray didn't sugar coat the sad truth nor try to paint himself or his then girlfriend in a better light. Raw and real; sort of like Anthony but on a less intense scale.

Photograph Anthony Anaxagorou with the band by Gareth-James

After Ray's performance ended, a brief interval ensued which was followed by the main event. When the band (comprised of a drummer, electric guitarist and bass guitarist) began to play their blend of fittingly melancholic yet far from depressing beats, my enjoyment of accomplished live music meant I could quite happily have listened to them play all night.

The seemingly loud volume but crisp sound quality being what it was, I initially thought that the band would drown out the spoken word. I was wrong. Anthony's vocal projection was as clear as his passion for poetry. Beginning with a rousing rendition of 'This Is Us', a unifying piece and therefore apt opener (that he has previously performed on Choice FM), the show had begun in earnest.

The diligent rehearsals I presume took place prior to the event paid off as the synchronicity between poet and band was clear for all to see and hear. None of the usual, consistent, rude murmurings attributed to such shows could be heard as practically everyone stayed silent to take in what was being said. For added effect, a crescendo met a pause in the music, a technique used in other subsequent pieces, while Anthony continued accapella before being joined by the band again.

Next came a piece in which the truth is likened to a single egg called ‘Broken Shells’. An interesting choice of simile which was successfully incorporated throughout the poem. My favourite aspect of it was the narrative switch at the end which had the potential to have sounded contrived but was well executed.

The instrumental for ‘Returning Jessica’, a poem about child abuse of a sexual nature, had a Red Hot Chilli Pepper’s vibe about it. The inclusion of a singer worked but made it seem a lot more like a song than spoken word due to the ‘chorus’ of sorts. Considering the story is told in first person from the point of view of a young woman, it amazed me that Anthony managed to tell the tale so well.

The recital of the controversial and fact heavy ‘If I Told You’ was performed without the band which in my opinion, was a good choice as it allowed the crowd to fully take in the beauty of Anthony’s words without distraction. Lines such as “what if I told you that music is not popular but universal; intelligent noise resonating from the soul of the universe”, “… that love is forgiveness breathing” or “what if I told you the first time I kissed a girl an earthquake found my legs and each time I get my heart broken I become a better poet”. The last line I quoted really resonated with me because each time I get my heart broken I really do become a better poet/writer.

‘Burma Makes Me Bad’ saw the welcome of another guest singer and it was nice to observe that he (‘Rastaman’) was as ardent about the words he was singing as Anthony was about the words being spoken – the enthusiasm was infectious. The poem, in fact the whole evening, reminded me that Anthony is a wonderful storyteller. Whereas most only manage to write about that which they have experienced firsthand (myself included), he can take others story and tell it for them without losing the emotion. It’s a gift.

Irrespective of the instrumental, the powerful words of a talented poet were able to be heard, which quite frankly was necessary as a lot of Anthony’s subject matter is so deep and requires close attention to be paid. While his words may not be accessible to all as Anthony touches on things others would rather forget or ignore, I’m glad that I was there.

I am glad that I can call someone who inspires, moves and motivates me a friend. And for those who feel I may be biased, I don’t think he’s talented because he is my friend, his body of work speaks for itself. He can do with words what many can only dream of. That is why he is talented. If you’ve never heard one of his poems I urge you to listen on YouTube and if you can, order one of his books. Some of the poems are easier to read than others but stick with it and uncover layers of meaning.

If you do manage to check Anthony, Ray or any other spoken word artists and poets out, I’d love to know what you think so feel free to share.

Photograph of Anthony by Gareth-James

Nouveaux Commencement

2011-07-29T07:00:00.004+01:00

**The following post may seem a little disjointed. Stick with it as there is a running theme - if in doubt, consult the title or image above**

I am a believer that people come into our lives for reasons, seasons and more often than not, a combination of both. Of late, I have been more aware of the friends whose season has or is coming to an end while finally realising the reason for their presence - if nothing else, l learnt a number of lessons and had some good times. But on to something hopefully more than seasonal...

I have a new blog. Now before I hear a unified cry of descent, the new residence for my thoughts is by no means a replacement for Complex-Simpliciti. On the contrary. Think of it as more of a holiday home for my musings that are of a significantly shorter length than anything posted here.

Due to my increasingly busy lifestyle, I don't always have the time to write posts of the sort of calibre I deem acceptable for this blog and rather than leave my readers with nothing (because my mind is constantly composing), I thought I'd create somewhere else for you to go in addition to showcasing the less ~~severe~~ serious part of my personality.

One of my readers said he felt as though I was "depriving readers of three course dining and serving up takeaway" - a smilie I was simultaneously offended by yet impressed with. I don't want it to seem as though I'm short-changing you with my new blog but I hope that the combination of the two makes you feel like you're getting a little extra pocket money so to speak. My new blog (which I'll link to at the end) has only been in existence for four full days and yet I already have eight posts. For those of you who don't know, I write poetry and will be sharing more on both blogs.

Back to 'new beginnings'...two of my ~~colleagues~~ friends left a few weeks ago. It was hard because they didn't just move, they emigrated. They were both such a big part of my day so I found it difficult to adjust initially. After thinking about and dealing with the way I was feeling, I decided to take the positive from the seemingly negative situation.

Just because they moved doesn't stop us being friends - we didn't break up! Having said that, even break ups are excellent opportunities to capitalise on a new beginning, that is, once you've overcome the pain. This led me to think about a poem I wrote which was cathartic and necessary. For people who have ever felt the way I am about to share, I hope you take away as much from reading it as I did writing it.

So until the next time, let me introduce you to Love and Life Lessons (L&LL). Let me know what you think of it, share it and if you're comfortable divulging, I'd love to know about new beginnings you're experiencing or have embarked on lately.

Catch Me

It’s been over two and a half years since you
kicked me from the crashing plane
of our relationship and I’m still falling,
Hurtling towards the ground at 120mph - chuteless

You could have wing-walked your way to save me
Free fallen in tandem with me but
You embraced our love like you would a leper,
suicide bomber or SARS infected lady
trying to give you a hug.

I’ve never been afraid of flying
but right now I miss the stable ground
The wind rushing past my ears, deafens
yet I still hear the sound of your voice
clear as hearing aided conversation.

Clear as those cloudless, summer mornings when I’d
make you brunch and we’d get out the Scrabble board
because the best accompaniments for words
is always a little Munch.

So right now I see fragmented plastic pieces,
little letters explicating the worst
like almost won spelling tests and
badly translated, hostile Boarder Agency signs.

The day you jettisoned my cargo
the once approving elements and I combined
with the sky and wept torrential tears
that soaked soul deep

my water-wingless spiritual core
needed saving from the rising damp
causing me to wonder if I’d ever
rid myself of the melancholy of you.

Home is where a bloodied platelet pushing
vital organ is, where you fashioned
a me-shaped hollow in yours
to resemble my favourite comfortable spot

so that I might settle and never leave
allow synapsis to harvest the apples from your eyes
to bring imagined offshoots to fruition
and start our own family tree.

But the sapling withered and died,
as salty tears weren’t enough to hydrate it,
The medicine man conveniently lied
because I still stand in spite of my missing heartbeat.

It’s been almost three years since you
kicked me from the crashing plane
of our relationship and I’m still falling,
Hurtling towards the ground at 120mph - chuteless

You could have wing-walked your way to save me
Free fallen in tandem with me but
you held on to our love like you would a rabid dog,
yet all I want to do is give you one last hug.

But I think I just hit the ground.

Tyrannical Times

2011-07-07T23:28:00.000+01:00

I’ve had a strange and somewhat frustrating few weeks. There are times where I’ve wanted to blog about it but the clandestine hermit in me wouldn’t allow it. My wish in life has always been to touch people with my words and writing my emotional outlet. In as much as I know that there are people in the world that can probably indentify with how I’ve been feeling, I hoard most of my emotions.

As annoying and repetitive as it is being asked if you’re okay, I understand it must be difficult for the people doing the asking, especially when they get little response, but considering I find it difficult to have a conversation about my feeling with my closest friends, it didn’t make sense to put it on my blog for the world to see?

I haven’t been sleeping well of late. When I’m up at that eerily peaceful time of night, after the midnight marauders have had their fun but just before the sun comes up, I think, or I write. Oftentimes, I don’t physically put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard (laziness doesn’t permit me to rise from my comfortable bed), but I mentally compose all sorts of pieces from stories to poems and occasionally I watch things online.

The other day I stumbled on Shirley Eniang’s YouTube vlog on bulling (please watch if you have time when you’ve finish reading this). Just to make it clear, I’m not being bullied ~~at present~~. But I was. At University. While I met some really nice people, I also came across some who wanted nothing more than to cause me angst and pain. For a time it worked. I became really reclusive and was a shadow of my former self. I toned down my personality because I figured that if I acted unlike myself, maybe they would hate me less? Silly I know, but it made sense to me at the time.

I don’t think I ever once referred to it as bullying while it was happening to me but on reflection months down the line after I’d finished and moved back home and started clawing back my confidence, I realised that bullying was what it was. Anyone who has enough time to create an email address or buy a sim card solely for the purpose of sending me malicious messages in addition to keying and breaking into my car, is a bully – and a twisted, felonious one at that.

I used to feel cheated by my Uni experience because almost everyone else I spoke to loved their time and cite it as some of the best years of their life. While a lot of my friends know that I seriously disliked Uni, they don’t know exactly why. Now they will (if they read this). If not for my then boyfriend and one of my best friends calling and visiting me because she was so worried, I’m not sure what I would have done.

Let me reiterate that I did meet some amazing people at University who I’m still friends with till today, but I used to wonder what life would have been like had I gone somewhere else. I don’t dwell on that anymore though because all of my experiences have made me who I am today. While I hate that I had to go through what I did, it made me stronger and less naïve about the nature of man. Just because you’re nice to people, doesn’t always mean that they’ll be nice to you. You should never be persecuted for being who you are [provided you aren’t hurting anyone].

If you were bullied in the past then I hope that you’ve managed to let it go, learn and move on. Easier said than done I know, but settling in a state of unhappiness and paranoia only hampers your present and future while allowing the bullies to achieve their goal. To anyone who is currently being bullied, I agree with Shirley when she said please tell someone. It definitely isn’t something you should go through alone. I didn’t talk about it for a while and it just ate away at me.

I believe that you should never allow another [wo]man’s negative opinion of you to supersede or obscure your view of yourself. All of us have flaws and are in no position to play God so should allow individuals to live their lives as they see fit and concentrate on your own. Another good thing that came from the experience is what I’m now calling my ‘signature poem’. Next time I have a performance I’ll let you guys know so hopefully you can come and here it.

Have a good weekend.

[If you want to share you bullying experiences or generally just to message about something and nothing then feel free to email me atcomplex.simpliciti@gmail.com]

Excuses

2011-06-07T22:45:00.000+01:00

first saw the picture above in a fellow blogger and writer (Christiana's) album on Facebook and it struck a chord with me. Not just because I'd been getting so many ridiculous excuses from people of late but also because I'd started giving them too.

While my exonerating statements paled in comparison to those I heard from the people who owe me money or commit to do things, they still perturbed me and left me in a really strange head space.

I think many excuses are given out of laziness and a complete lack of respect for the other party, their time and their feelings. My excuses on the other hand were/are borne from my inability to say no. Oftentimes I find it really difficult to decline when asked to do something for others (to my own detriment) so end up in situations I could have avoided but didn't just to please people.

Lately I've been trying to break the cycle. Admittedly, it's been very difficult - I'm not sure if it's been harder for me or those who have met my newly found forthrightness but its been a severe learning curve. The friends who have stuck with me through this transitionary period I value even more and the ones that haven't, I'm appreciative of what we had but thankful for ridding myself of the excess baggage along the journey that is my life.

"Excuses are the nails used to build a house of failure."

Failure is something no one enjoys but it can be beneficial as you learn from it. One of my biggest fears growing up was failure and it was really unhealthy. In the words of Frederick Smith "fear of failure must never be a reason not to try something", otherwise how can you celebrate if you succeed or learn if you lose?

I want the proverbial house that is my life (in addition to my tangible future house) to be built of strong stuff, thus, the excuses have to stop. I can't say that I'll never give another excuse in my life, afterall I'm only human. But I'm far more aware of them now that they temporarily pervaded my discourse and so I'm making an attempt to stop.

I'll leave you with a quote that I really like and ask...do you make a lot of excuses and if so, why/under what circumstances?

There are no secrets to success. It is the result of preparation, hard work, and learning from failure."

- Colin Powell

[Note: the quote in the picture above is said to be by Don Wilder and Bill Rechin]

My Best Friends Wedding

2011-05-08T17:58:00.000+01:00

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about one of my best friends' impending nuptials (for all those who missed it, click here). Its been a while since I've blogged (apologies) so as you've probably guessed, the wedding has come and gone.

Unforgettable.

That's the word that springs to mind when I attempt to think of a sufficient adjective to describe the day. While I believe those five syllables do little or no justice to it, I hope it conjures up grand but sentimental images in your head because that is precisely how it was. Grand yet touching and lacking in the tasteless overkill and tack that some weddings often tend to fall prey to.

As her maid of honour I was with the bride from the early hours of the morning right until the end of the day. I watched as she had her make-up and hair done then laced her up in her dress before letting her float (it literally did look like she was floating) down the stairs of her parents house, leaving her surname and singledom behind, to have more pictures taken and then eventually to be wed.

In our 10 years of friendship, never have I seen her look more beautiful or happy. And her dress, while totally different to what I'd want for my own wedding should I decide to one day two-step down the aisle, looked amazing on her and accentuated her curves perfectly. It's almost as if God smiled on them that day as the sun shone throughout. Everything from the ceremony (my first Jewish wedding actually), to the venue, decor, food and uber entertaining band ensured that it superseded every other wedding I've ever been to. Hands down.

Its very much the sort of day I'd love. Everyone was happy, most notably the bride and groom - I've seen weddings were the bride looks as though she's on the verge of tears (and I don't mean in a good way), while the groom appears to be a combination of disinterested, bored and like his life is flashing before his eyes! Their happiness was evident and ~~melted~~ thawed my jaded heart...just a little.

Being at the wedding made me think about the emphasis placed on marriage versus the apathy a lot of people have towards it nowadays. When I was younger I genuinely thought I'd be married at my present age because in my head, it was just the thing to do but reality got in the way.

In 'I Do', I lamented on the fact that I was worried that post marriage, our friendship would change. It hasn't. Granted it's only been a few weeks but we still speak as much as we used to and on her return from honeymoon, I was treated to lunch by my best friend and her new husband. Instead of loosing a friend, I actually gained one (her husband) and for that I feel so lucky.

I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few weeks and she really is one of the best friends anyone could wish for. With the exception of two other people I know, she is the only person (family excluded) who would hunt me down and find me if I disappeared for a little while. The only person who, no matter how far away I move, would still come and visit me or would call regularly to ensure I'm alive and well. For that I love her more than she'll ever know.

Anyway...before this gets way more sentimental than intended. I wish her and her husband every happiness and look forward to spending more time with the newest Mr and Mrs! Before I forget...have any of your friends or family gotten married lately, if so, how did you find the day? Or is the marriage boom just happening in my circle?

"I Do"

2011-04-08T16:13:00.001+01:00

In a few days time – on Sunday to be specific, one of my closest friends is getting married. To say that I am ecstatic for her would be an understatement BUT I’d be lying if I said a small, selfish part of me wasn’t a little sad. Before you condemn me for being a bad or ~~jealous~~ resentful friend, it isn’t that at all – okay, well…maybe a little bit. My real issue is the fact that I don’t know what her impending nuptials will mean for our close to 10 year friendship as soon as her prefix evolves from Miss to Mrs and she gains a totally new surname altogether.

I’d been keeping these thoughts in my head for quite some time and only told her the other day. The bride-to-be, being the wonderful person that she is, reassured me that becoming a wife wouldn’t change anything and quite frankly, I applaud her conviction in what she was saying. However she isn’t the problem. I am. When women get married they (understandably) tend to do ‘couply’ things with other smug ‘marrieds’ and those in long-term relationships and as I fall in neither of those categories, I’ve been considering if we’ll still be able to relate?

I won’t have the same comments or complaints about a husband (or boyfriend) who knows me almost as well as I know myself, nor will I be able to talk of future plans with me and . Her excitement is infectious and I’m happy that she is finally marrying the man that she loves, nevertheless her wedding, and the weddings and engagements of those around me that have either recently passed or are fast approaching, are an unwelcomed reminder that I have reached the age where my age-mates are going to start dropping like flies and I will evade aunties and uncles at parties in order to avoid that awkward moment when they ask “so, when are you getting married?”

I hate feeling like I’m supposed to be married off in the next 12 months and then begin breeding almost instantly or forever risk being left on the shelf. I’m not saying a whirlwind romance couldn’t happen, but it is highly unlikely at the present time and I’m actually enjoying living life, building a career and meeting new people, but I digress.

After careful consideration of my friendship dilemma, I came to the conclusion that stressing about a situation that may not even escalate to the extreme that I’d imaged was futile. I am thankful that my friend is blessed enough to have found someone that she wants to spend the rest of her life with and I look forward to hanging out with her and her husband – whether on my own or with a significant other should I finally meet someone I like enough who likes me back.

And I know that three is a crowd, but luckily her husband is aware that I come as part of the package so really my friend and I should be fine! I know their wedding is going to be amazing, and I really like my bridesmaid dress so I’m looking forward to it.

As indulgent as this post may seem, there is a wider point that I’m trying to get across here. Worrying over something that hasn’t and may never happen is useless and serves no purpose. I am by no means advocating throwing complete caution to the wind and foregoing all planning. That would just be stupid and irresponsible of me – fail to plan and you could plan to fail etc etc.

I am currently of the mindset that tormenting yourself over something that you have little or no control over will ultimately do you damage. And things you do have control over (e.g. the way you conduct yourself in your friendships, relationships, job or whatever it may be), do so to the best of your ability. At least that way you’re less likely to experience regret and know that you tried your best should it fail.

Don't Get Mad

2011-03-14T23:22:00.000Z

"Don't get mad, get successful. Success is the best revenge"

A few weeks ago I got so angry I physically started to shake. My heart raced so fast I felt like Usain Bolt stole my Mulberry and I was trying to catch him! Why I hear you ask? Because someone who had been pressing my buttons for a long time, told me to shut up - publicly. Now I'm not a violent person but at that very moment I wanted to exercise what I'm told looks like a mean right hook. Luckily I didn't.

I didn't even argue back. Oh I replied, but I didn't argue. Over the years, much to certain people's annoyance, I have come to understand the futility of arguing (particularly with very stubborn people). Instead I fained composure and calm, put my objection across and went for a walk whilst fighting back those tears you get when you're about to loose control. I came back when I could pick up a pen without looking like I had Parkinson's.

On further reflection of the situation, it amazed me what could bring outsuch emotion in me. For a couple of months a person I know has messed with my money and my mind yet I haven't had the same reaction. To explain why would require far more detail than I feel comfortable giving, have the time to write or you to read so we'll leave it at that. But my unpleasant experiences of the past few months have caused me to look at myself and my reactions to certain situations to ascertain whether they were appropriate, over or underwhelming.

I'm pretty good at masking how I really feel or think when I want to but one thing that is bound to evoke visible emotion in me is when people unjustly persecute or upset those close to me. I've watched one of my friends hold on to the love she has for the boy she thought she'd marry, for two years. Irrespective of what friends or family suggest, she hasn't moved on. Quite recently the best friend of said boy assured her that he still loves her which sparked renewed hope. But, hope is both a powerful and destructive emotion to have because it made the pain more acute when said object of her affection looked her in the eyes and said, "I feel no way about you".

Had I put her head in a bowl and left her for a few hours she may well have drowned in her own tears. It broke me heart. I didn't patronise her and tell her to get over it, nor did I say it would be OK because I couldn't promise that. I did tell her that I would be there for her and while I could not be to her what she wanted him to be, I would do everything in my power to make it better.

The final nail in the coffin came when he mentioned the new girl he was seeing (who he still claims is not his gf). I think she was about ready to kill him or herself, but as I reminded her, he wasn't worth the jail time or worth putting her family and friends through that sort of heartache. I shared with her what my father had told me years ago when I was pining for a lost love - "you weren't born with the person so not matter how much of an extension of you, you believe them to be, you can and will survive without them. It just takes time."

Anyway, back to my original point, I am all too aware that a number of things (and people) will try your patience and seek to upset your sense of calm. In some respects I actually think it's healthy because such tests are character building. However, unnecessarily flying off the handle when faced with silly people isnt't beneficial to anyone, least of all yourself. Similarly, I think we often fail to realise the impact of our words and actions on others.

The person who annoyed me eventually started to interact normally with me again (without making a formal apology might I add) and whilst I'm civil and even friendly at times, things will never be the same. Not because I hold on to malice, but because forgetting when you forgive leaves you susceptible to end up in the same situation. Thus, I have forgiven, but I haven't forgotten.

When was the last time you lost your cool? Or comforted someone who was falling apart?

P.S. To those of you who enjoyed the extract from my Thai journal that a shared a few posts ago, I guest blogged on The Thailand Life (a cool blog about the real side of Thailand people often don't tell you about) so please read it here and share with friends, family and anyone else you care to.

Guess What?

2011-02-14T23:17:00.001Z

It's that day again...Monday.

Okay so it's Valentine's Day too. Unless you're living under a rock, a rural village in a third world country or caught in the middle of a political uprising (a la Egypt), then there's little or no way that you can't fail to spot the pink/red themed shop displays or increase in the price of roses/chocolates/balloons/restaurants/hotel stays etc...

Whilst my friends gushed about the gifts and surprises their "boo's", "husband's", "boyfriend's", "buddy's" or had gotten or done for them, I was at work. Now I don't begrude anyone a little happiness on this overrated day of unnecessary expenditure, I do however, sometimes wonder if a little restraint would be in order? But hey, it boosts the economy and puts smiles on people's faces so who am I to complain?

To be honest I don't have much to say at the present time as I'm exhausted but I'm mindful of the fact that it's been a while since I've blogged so I thought that today would be as good a day as any to put fingers to keyboard and get back into the swing of things.

I used to be a closet hopeless romantic but life and experience has left me somewhat jaded and cynical - but I'm working on rectifying that. All I'd say is for those of you who are in relationships, don't take one another for granted. Those who are yet to find that special someone, stay hopeful but be happy with yourself. And to those who think they have found someone but aren't sure what to do...tell them. What's the worst that can happen? At least if they don't like you back you can move on and live life knowing you tried.

With the aforementioned in mind, I suggest you listen to Lauryn Hill's Tell Him. I love that song. Always have. Always will. It's the song in my head and my heart right now. I look forward to the day when I can "tell him". Before I go, I'll share a classic love poem with you that I've adored since I was in my early teens. Certain poems will always set my soul ablaze and remind me exactly why I love words so much. This, is one of them. It's called How Do I Love Thee by Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

Happy Valentine's Day.

P.S. I was secretly hoping that someone would send me flowers (or at the very least a card). It didn't happen (not sure how I was expecting it to without making my address public knowledge but wishful thinking eh?). Maybe next year?

Blood Brothers

2011-01-30T23:07:00.001Z

I saw Blood Brothers [again] a few nights ago.

I loved it.

I say again because the first time I saw it I was thirteen years old and on a school trip. Over ten years later and though the cast has changed many times over, the timeless, hard hitting, emotional storyline still impacted as it did back then - if not moreso given my additional experience of the world and thus, further understanding of more of the play's themes.

The musical is in its 23rd year after having first opened its doors to the public back in 1988. The fact that it is still going strong after all these years is a testament to its greatness. How the protagonists manage to summon emotion like that on a regular/nightly basis amazes me. I suppose given the charged nature of the script, it's unlikely that emotion would need to be faked and if it was, they did a damn fine job of it!

The themes (mainly the class divide) is something that I think will always be pertinent - no matter how forward thinking and seemingly integrated the world has become. I think prejudice (albeit [un]intentional) is innate. There's no running from it. Sad, but true. Once it's accepted that we all have some degree of prejudice because we're easily sussceptible to our surroundings - particularly in our formative years, maybe we can set about trying to make positive changes?

I was having a conversation with some colleagues the other day about the opinions of others and whilst we may not always agree, I respect what others have to say and a pertinent quote from Voltaire spraing to mind:

"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it"

I agree with that quote provided what is being said isn't being forced on/to the detriment of others a la Hitler. That, I cannot condone. (I actually discovered that although attriubuted to Voltaire, that quote was in fact first used by Evelyn Beatrice Hall but I've already deviated from the point of this post enough so moving on!)

Back to Blood Brothers... casting Stephen Palfreman as 'Micky' was nothing short of genius because he played the role brilliantly. Although everyone performed well, he stood out and definitely embodied his character. He captured the pathos of every situation effortlessly, so much so that whenever he was on the stage, I found that most of my attention was focused on him, even if the scene wasn't mainly about his character.

The staging was fitting and well constructed. It wasn't the largest of spaces but I'd say that the best use was made of it. Considering this musical has now been put on in a few other countries (including Japan!) I'd love to know if their staging stays true to our original or if they've amended it?

Either way, anyone in need of a good play to go to, I'd highly recommend this one. Even if you're not a fan of musicals, don't be swayed by sterotypes as this is a one of the best musicals I've seen. I'd refer to it as a unisex musical too so its one you could watch with your beloved or the boys/girls/entourage.

If anyone has seen Blood Brothers, what did you think of it?

P.S. I'm aware that I didn't write about Kissing Sid James. That's because I didn't see it! I did go to the 'theatre' but the less said about that fiasco the better.

Have a great week!

Fela!

2011-01-24T22:58:00.001Z

Saturday, was a good day.

Not only did I get to spend time with my father (regular readers will know about my relationship with him and those that don't can read about it here), but I also got to see FELA!

I really like going to the theatre and when a friend of mine told me last summer that Fela! the musical would be coming to the UK, I was pretty excited to experience a re-enactment of what would have been pertinent during my parents youth. The fact that I'd heard my Dad (and a good majority of the Nigerian elders I'd encountered over the years) mention Fela and his music, sparked my interest even more.

My Dad and I frequently spend time together in the house and often have deep and meaningful's as well as trivial conversations, but it was nice to be out and about with him - and on public transport no less! When we're going somewhere it usually always involves a car so it was something completely different and I loved it. The fact that people did double takes at times probably wondering if he was my 'sugar-daddy' as opposed to my actual daddy made me giggle but it only added further interest to the day.

I'm not entirely sure what I was expecting of the play but I was pleasantly surprised when we took our seats. I always try to have a look around at the staging before the show starts and I tip my hat to the stage director/designer because it was very well executed. From the paintings to the lighting, it all added as opposed to detracting from the production.

The actors/actresses/dancers/singers did a fantastic job and aside from the dodgy 'Nigerian' (or should I say Ghanian mixed with South African accent) of the lead and questionable, un-Fela-like singing at times, it was a great show! The energy exuding from the dancers alone made me wish I could seemingly detach my waist from my body and do a little shimmy - not in public of course!

All in all it was a lovely day out. I got to learn a lot more about Fela (the weed smoking, lady loving activist) in a far more interesting way than reading a textbook whilst spending time with one of my favourite people. What more could I ask?

I'm going to the theatre again tomorrow (Tuesday) and the day after (Wednesday) so will try to blog about both before returning to my usual random musings. If any of you saw Fela I'd like to know what you thought about it? And also, how often do you spend time with your parents - if ever?

Life

2011-01-16T23:20:00.001Z

While I get my act together and ~~start~~ finish writing my next post I thought I would share something with you. It was first brought to my attention by Christiana Mbakwe.

I love it. It's very apt. And I have printed a copy and stuck it above my desk to reinforce the statements so that I don't forget to live it.

Let me know what you think.

Have a great week.

P.S. I think the picture came from here.

The Scent of Life

2011-01-11T00:00:00.001Z

Cherry Drops

Diesel

Acid Rain

Damp Bark/Woodchip

Moth Balls

PVA Glue

Green Tea

Salt Water

It never ceases to amaze me that even a slight whiff of a particular smell can transport me to a moment in time that may well have long since began to gather dust in the recesses of my mind. The list above are just a few that stood out.

Cherry Drops – I went to two primary schools as a child and cherry drops always remind me of my first (and favourite) one: St Dominic’s. We used to buy them from the sweet shop next door to school called Mary’s run by, (believe it or not) a woman a woman named Mary who should have long since retired and had a particular smell of her own. Cherry drops always remind me of a happy time – when penny sweets actually cost a penny and life was uncomplicated save for working out who I’d like to run around with in the playground.

Diesel – I had a somewhat irrational fear of trains as a child. Not the underground, but actual trains. I say somewhat irrational because I’d never physically had a bad experience with them, but I did however, have a recurring dream that I’d fall between the gap and be crushed by a train as my family and other travellers looked on! I was 6 years old and had a very active/morbidly graphic/unusual imagination (I still do) – strange I know. But this went on for two years. Then one day I stopped being scared. I decided that if I did fall then so be it. That was the day I learnt to control my fear in all aspects of my life.

Acid Rain – Playing football in the rain aged 8. I don’t mean drizzle. Torrential rain. I was absolutely soaked. We all were. But, it was one of the most liberating experiences of my life. For those of you who aren’t in the know, you should ~~seldom~~ never wet a black girl’s hair! Which is why it was such a big deal for me to be out in the rain without a care in the world. It also helped that I scored the winning (and only goal) of the match and that feeling was the catalyst for one of my first poems: ‘Scoring Happiness’.

Damp Bark/Woodchip – I went to an after school club and summer camp that had bark/woodchip everywhere. Management were under the impression that it would cushion our falls. They were wrong – well, to an extent. Dry bark is prickly and could cause injury depending on how you landed on it, but wet bark was strange and made the place smell as though we were out in the countryside. Wet woodchip/bark is a pungent stench that will always transport me to that time in my life. It's because of that smell that I often long for the countryside.

Moth Balls – They remind me of my Grandma Tilly (may her soul RIP). She was such a lovely lady and although people used to find it strange that I had 3 Grandma’s – especially with the 3^rd being a sweet old woman of the Caucasian persuasion (who I was in fact related to for the record but don’t feel it necessary to explain how at present) - I was very grateful to have her. She passed away before I hit my teens and I miss her.

PVA Glue – This takes me back to my love of making things when I was little (I still do now just have less time). PVA (Polyvinyl Acetate) glue was the magic ingredient to construct all arts and crafts projects and hold them together. It had such a distinct smell – one that made the lie I was told about it being made of whale and dolphin bones far more plausible. Because of that lie, I boycotted PVA for what seemed like a whole summer but was in actual fact, 2 weeks. Pritt Stick just didn’t have the same adhesive properties so I said a prayer for the slaughtered sea creatures and went back to using it for the good of my cards and posters.

Green Tea – My trip to Thailand – also known as the most peaceful I’d been in a long time and a turning point in my life. Whilst there I learnt to let go of things that weren't in my control, cease stressing about other people’s happiness and try to concentrate on my own. Not everyone will like you. What’s important is that YOU like YOU.

Salt Water – For reasons to obvious to mention and painful to want to explore, salt water will forever remind me of tears.

I managed to write a whole list of smells that remind me of poignant moments in my life but the few above are the ones that I felt like sharing. Whenever I hear people talk about smells nowadays it’s usually to condemn or compliment but rarely to reminisce. Whilst an unpleasant bodily odor in a confined space such as public transport can be a chore (particularly for me as my 5”2 frame means I am at optimum level to get a face-full of armpit), there are so many pleasing and memorable smells in the world that few people really take note of or attach solid memories too.

When was the last time you really associated a smell with a memory?

Silence

2011-01-04T21:05:00.001Z

This evening I walked into my room, turned off almost anything emitting light, lay down on the carpet beside my bed with my arms by my side and head looking up at the ceiling and listened...

...'modern' silence ensued.

I think that true silence of yesteryear only exists in a vacuum now because the trappings of modern society - cars, computers, radio's, phones and anything else likely to hum unless switched off from the mains, permeates real silence and taints it. That is why I call it 'modern silence'.

As I listened to cars occasionally pass by and stared out into the darkness, I wondered what it would be like to be somewhere totally devoid of noise? Even in the most remote locations, if there are animals nearby - including the smallest of creatures such as insects, it's difficult to escape sound.

I've always been quite comfortable in silence, much to some people's discomfort but after a while I started to get fidgety and got up to type this. There will forever be some sort of background noise that I affectionately refer to as ~~distractions~~ 'the soundtrack to my existence'.

Whether it's the tapping of my keyboard as I eagerly type away, the clicking of my Blackberry keypad whilst replying to messages, listening to music to compliment my mood, watching TV or a movie as a form of escapism, turning pages of a book to feed my imagination and even my car engine when I'm on my latest excursion...

I realised that my life is peppered with few moments of stillness - in the literal sense.

But I like it.

As much as I love real silence (or as close to it as I can get), it can sometimes be quite deafening. Yes, I am aware that 'deafening silence' is an oxymoron but then so is 'complex simplicity' and ultimately so am I. It is what it is.

So now I'm wondering, when was the last time any of you sat in silence and how did it make you feel - if anything?

[comments welcomed and appreciated]

New Year, New Heights

2011-01-01T19:06:00.000Z

"Why only reach for the stars when there's a whole galaxy to explore?"

- A. Ozua

Have you ever woken up so content and at peace that the walls could be tumbling down around you whilst every known predator to man (beast, disease, fellow man, overzealous barbers/hairdressers and taxes) stare ravenously at you awaiting their chance to bring about your demise, and yet you keep smiling and remain unaffected? Yes? Me too. I did not, however, wake up in that frame of mind today.

Whilst I was happy and feeling rather loved on account of all of the personalised New Years texts and Blackberry Messenger messages that awaited me (don’t you just love messages addressed to you as opposed to generic forwards), I wasn’t deliriously happy which quite frankly, I think is great!

I don’t begrudge anyone who chooses to begin their year bubbling over with glee and naive optimism, but the ‘optimistic realist’ in me knows how much work is needed to put in to achieve half of what I want so starting it on such a high could only lead to a nasty shock if I should come across a stumbling block – which in life is always inevitable.

I don’t want to use clichéd statements and tell you that 2011 will be “the year for me” or “the best year I’ve ever had” because, apart from finding such generalisations so passé and believing that actions speak louder than words, I plan to accomplish quite a lot in my lifetime and unless I fall prey to a premature death, 2011 will be one of many good years for me – I hope. Morbidity aside, I will simply say that the mere thought of the next 12 months both excite and scare me in equal measure.

Admittedly 2010 wasn’t quite the year I wanted nor expected but it was certainly what I needed. I learnt a lot and rediscovered myself as well as making myself proud with the handling of a few unpleasant situations that arose. I finished my masters on a subject matter I enjoyed, thereby closing (at least for now), one chapter of my life and met or got closer to some pretty extraordinary people. All in all, I gained far more than I lost.

On Christmas day (a belated Merry Christmas by the way), I sold out and joined Twitter! I know I know, I didn’t think I ever would either but so many writers/creatives I meet always wonder why I’m not on it and I got tired of trying to justify my aversion so I figured I’d finally give it a try. I still haven’t gotten the hang of tweeting yet but over the next few weeks I’ll be making more of an effort so please feel free to follow me @assumpta13.

I don’t tend to make New Years resolutions but I have a mental list of things I want to accomplish and writing more regular blog posts is one of them. As I stated in my pervious offering, they won’t be as long as they used to be (unless a topic really moves me) but they will be more frequent.

So, until then, I’d like to thank you for reading and sticking with me – both old and new readers and would like to wish you all a very Happy New Year! Those of you who haven’t started work/studying again then enjoy the rest of your holidays and get as much rest as possible - I know I will be before work next week!

"To accomplish something you've never done before you have to go to places you've never been. So don't be afraid and take a leap of faith. "

Decidedly Absent

2010-12-18T17:16:00.000Z

I have been decidedly absent from this space for quite some time now – it’s probably one of the longest periods of time I’ve gone without writing on my blog but I won’t apologise. Why? Because I’m not sorry and I think the word is far too overused so make a conscious effort to only say it when I mean it. I’m not sorry that I took a little step back to regroup and have some ‘me time’ so to speak, but I am sorry that I did so without warning. It isn’t fair to my regular readers, and to the new ones – I’m sure you had enough of my previous posts to keep you entertained if you so wished.

Writing has always been a coping mechanism for me. I found it difficult to talk to friends about things going on in my head when I was little because I didn’t think like most children my own age so I would either write it down in the form of a journal entry or a poem. And that is how my love affair with words began. In the past few weeks a lot has happened; mostly good, great and amazing things interspersed with a little bad. I’ve met some wonderful new people, gotten involved in some exciting projects, learnt a little more about myself and the nature of man, started a new job (which I really enjoy) and lost two family members.

When there’s a lot going on in my world, I tend to produce my best work in terms of poetry and yet in the past few months I’ve managed to write one poem and one poetic ramble. I call it a poetic ramble because it was more a purge of emotion that I wrote in 10 minutes that just happened to be quite rhythmical plaintive prose when I read it back. I’m told that emotional times are when I should be writing on my blog because whether it’s a good or bad emotion I’m feeling, others will be able to relate to it and would probably be quite happy if I shared. As much as I’d love to, I am not that type of blogger.

I love reading about things others have been through as I can often relate but any time I get tempted to share much more of myself with you, the part of me that cherishes privacy takes over and I stop. I found that my decision to start a blog came with a certain degree of pressure to make my life an open book. I’ve never wanted it to be and hope it never becomes one. I think people live/share far too much of their private life in the public domain and may one day live to regret it. But, having said that I am open to being a little more open with you guys (within reason) so stick with me and we’ll see where 2011 takes us!

My posts won’t be as long as they once were but it means I’ll be able to write more frequently without feeling as though my inability to reach my imaginary word limit renders it unworthy. Although I haven’t been writing on here, I have been writing elsewhere, namely: The Tip Online. So, if you haven’t heard about the e-zine already, click and read when you get the chance. I have quite a few features on there now so that should keep you busy for a little while. Before I forget, if you’d like to get in touch with me, you can email me at: complex.simpliciti@googlemail.com

The (suposed) Great Depression

2010-10-22T16:48:00.000+01:00

Apologies for my aloofness of late. I haven't taken another unannounced sabbatical - it's simply a case of me being off in my own world mixed with laziness and procrastination. I'd actually written a post on my Blackberry that I've been meaning to upload since last week but never quite managed to. The following is not that post. Instead I thought it better to talk about how I've been feeling of late - for my benefit more than yours. If you get something out of it then great. If not, all I can offer you is a wave goodbye.

A couple of weeks ago I went to the cinema four times in the space of six days. Excessive maybe but there were a number of films I wanted to see that had been out a while and I didn't want to miss them so went in quick succession. Someone I know began asking me what was wrong and if I was depressed when I informed them that I'd mostly been going alone.

I may not have gotten the memo but since when did going to the cinema alone mean that I'd soon be needing a prescription for Prozac?! As difficult as it may be for some to fathom, I actually enjoy my own company! At times, I like hanging out by myself and feel the need to do it in a setting other than my bedroom. It disturbed me that the person automatically thought that there must be a problem. I think it's comments like that that make people so quick to self-diagnose and exacerbate issues that may otherwise be an off day or sort themselves out.

Since I returned from Thailand at the beginning of September I've been pretty happy. Consistently happier than I have been in a long time anyway and everyone around me has noticed the difference.Even when things haven't gone to plan I've maintained a relatively positive outlook. Sadly that wavered for the first time one day this week. For some reason I was really down because I wasn't accomplishing what I needed and wanted to. That day my wish to return to Thailand was insatiable. But, instead of allowing the feeling to consume me, I took the day out to do nothing but reminisce, appreciate life and then got back to doing what I needed to 24 hours later.

Allowing yourself to feel negative emotions isn't necessarily a bad thing provided you don't allow the feeling to consume you. I've got a lot of things going on at the moment so I'm just trying not to overwhelm myself. I'm excited about the future though and I'm not afraid to fail because I know each failure will just be new lessons learnt and preparation for when I get to where I want to be.

Anyway, all of that aside, I kept a journal when I was in Thailand (which I'm considering turning into a novel) and thought I'd share the first part of what would be the first chapter with you. Comments would be greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy:

Day 1 - Riding Around On Bikes With Boys

I arrived in Bangkok after an eleven and a half hour flight sandwiched between two strangers. On my left, sitting by the window was what some could describe as one of three archetypal visitors to Thailand; a lone-travelling, middle-aged man who looked like he was roving for pleasure as opposed to business – the other two archetypes being backpackers and free spirits escaping the constraints and rigidity of capitalist civilisation in the western world, but that’s just my humble opinion. To my right sitting in the aisle, was a relatively young, nonconformist looking man with an amiable face and shaved head, showing off the fist-sized, presumably religious tattoo etched above the small tuft of hair that he saw fit for the clippers to spare. I must have seemed quite the anomaly to the flight attendants as I sat in a plane full of stereotypes, honeymooners and those returning home or going to visit family. But I secretly enjoyed feeling as though people were stealing glances at me and trying to work out the reason for my travel.
The middle aged man stood up to use the toilet once throughout the entire flight and the only things that passed his lips were water and wine. He ate nothing, which I found quite odd but didn’t question as I was grateful that I didn’t have to get up numerous times to let him out. The young man and I exchanged smiles but no words, except for five when he saw me struggling to stow my hand luggage in the overhead locker before we set off. His blue eyes looked at me through the simple frames of his glasses and he asked “would you like some help?” I replied “yes” and that was as far as our dialogue went. Those five words informed me that he wasn’t English but they weren’t enough for me to firmly place his accent. I probably should have guessed that he wasn’t a native of the UK by the way he was dressed because there was nothing English-looking about his shorts, t-shirt and oversized jumper. But, considering how expressive people have become with fashion nowadays, I’ve found that it’s never wise to make such generalisations and quickly jump to conclusions.
Eleven and a half hours was my longest flight to date and thus, the furthest I had been from home. It honestly wasn’t that bad. Leading up to my trip I wondered what I’d do for almost half a day spent in the air. I assumed that I would eat, sleep, watch movies, read and write. The time passed surprisingly quickly because as predicted, I ate, slept, read a little bit and slept some more. To be honest, I think the best way to cope with a long haul flight is to leave at night so you can fall asleep easily. That way it’s a far less tedious journey. I didn’t manage to write and only watched one film. I’m unsure what it was called because I missed the beginning, but it starred Queen Latifah and the rapper Common and could best be described as an African-American romantic comedy with less emphasis on the comedy and more on the romance – not to mention a nice moral thrown in for good measure. I hadn’t anticipated there only being one giant screen as opposed to having your own personal one. I thought such cost saving measures were a thing of the past and having to share a communal screen was not something I was used to and did not like, hence my lack of viewing. On the up side, The Thai Airways staff had the most beautiful hostess uniforms I’ve seen. When I spotted the singular giant TV screen, I then rationalised its existence by convincing myself that the airline had blown their budget on the nice uniforms. Using Thai silk to make work-wear could be considered as excessive and made me wonder if their priorities were skewed, but at least their staff looked good. On reflection, Thai silk bought in Thailand can’t be that expensive but my explanation was better than admitting that the airline’s technology is dated or they’re simply being cheap.
Although the single screen was disappointing, I found the in-flight menu’s we were given to be delightful. It was unusual because I’d never been given a menu on a flight before. It was helpful to see the options written down with exactly what each meal comprised of. Usually flight attendants simply gave you your two options when they came around and if you are unlucky (or lucky as the case may be) enough to be a vegetarian, you typically don’t get a choice. I’m not sure whether vegetarianism is common in Thailand but, the cabin crew has forgotten to make provisions for them and some girls sitting a few rows behind me were up in arms. I felt sorry for them initially but after a while their complaining and rudeness got irritating. I chose the Thai green curry for dinner to get into the spirit of my holiday early. I can’t remember what I chose for breakfast but both meals were satisfying which was remarkable for aeroplane food. My experience with Thai Airways as a whole was pleasant and when I landed in Bangkok, I had no complaints.
Because my flight to Chiang Mai wasn’t booked with an affiliate of Thai Airways, my luggage couldn’t be checked in all the way to my final destination from London. Bangkok airport was huge, modern and clean. I had more than enough time to catch my next flight so I walked around it in wonder. Although Heathrow airport is sizeable, Bangkok airport felt less claustrophobic, but that could be due to the exceedingly high ceilings and copious amounts of glass letting natural light in at every angle. I paid more attention to the decor, people around me and the fact that I was the only black (or brown) face in the entire airport instead of the signs directing me to where I was meant to be and pretty soon I ended up in a long immigration line with no one I recognised from my flight. I waited patiently in the queue but patience eventually turned to panic when I feared that the pace was moving too slowly. Once customs was cleared I realised I’d somehow managed to walk to the opposite side of the airport which was quite a distance from the turnstile that would spew out my bag. I knew I’d taken too long when I found my suitcase sitting with those of a few other late comers.
Once I’d checked in for my internal flight, the wait wasn’t too long before I could board the plane. I was surprisingly alert given the hours of travelling but I put that down to the adrenalin rush I was getting thinking about my forthcoming adventure. Even if nothing else exciting happened during my whole trip, I’d travelled half way across the world alone and that in itself was a big feat me. Being on the Air Asia flight to Chiang Mai reminded me of Easy Jet, Ryan Air, or any of those other low budget airlines in the UK because you could sit anywhere and refreshments were served at a cost. I noted the fact that the seatbelts buckled left to right instead of right to left like most of the flights I’ve been on and it made me smile. Those are the types of details I observe that make people think I’m weird. But I wouldn’t have it any other way I suppose.

P.S. To understand the title of Day 1 you'll need to read the rest. x

The Social Network

2010-10-13T09:16:00.000+01:00

Last night I got to see a preview of the movie The Social Network. Prior to going, every time I mentioned the film to anyone, it wasn’t met with much enthusiasm. Unperturbed, I was still looking forward to watching it.

For those who don’t know, The Social Network is a film about the founder/founding of Facebook. It stars Jesse Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerberg (the creator) and Andrew Garfield as Eduardo Saverin (Zukerberg’s best friend at college). The most notable cast member however is Justin Timberlake – for obvious reasons. Timberlake isn’t actually central to the film although adverts would have to believe he plays a bigger role than he actually does.

Snooze fest I hear you cry! Why would you want to sit through two hours of this? Well, simple; to have a little light shed on how the site that once had many of us hooked came into being. Yes people are still joining the site daily but I’d say that the novelty of Facebook has and is wearing off. At least for myself and people that I know.

The Social Network is quite a dark movie and by dark I mean the colour palette as opposed to it being macabre. Very few scenes are shot in bright light and even those that are, are made darker by the wardrobe of the cast members. I highlight this as a positive not a negative because shot any other way would not be in keeping with the story line.

The film was shot with no input from Mark Zuckerberg or the Facebook staff or employees but the screenplay was adapted from Ben Mezrich’s 2009 notification book The Accidental Billionaries. Eduardo Saverin was a consultant for Mezrich’s story which is what leads me to believe that it is probably an accurate re-telling sexed up slightly to pull in ratings.

The cast is brilliantly convincing so I tip my hat to the casting director. For a musician (usually they excel in one craft and not the other), Justin Timberlake did a great job. However, given that I am a Timberlake admirer of yesteryear, I was more than slightly distracted in many of his scenes by how much he’s aged! He certainly looked all of his 29 years, if not more but it worked and was probably intentional for the appearance of the character he was playing; Chris Parker – better known as the founder of Napster.

I disagree with James King of Radio 1 when he described The Social Network as “One of the best films of the year…” Yes the tale is told quite masterfully, it is at times emotionally wrenching, well constructed, and witty and every so often requires you to use your brain in order to keep up with the technical jargon. But it is far from an iconic film.

It is a must see from the point of view that I think people should have a deeper understand of the origins of a social networking site that many of us use on a daily or weekly basis. Also, ultimately it is a morality tale – one that reiterated certain belief’s I have regarding friendships and left me seriously disliking Mark Zuckerberg and feeling like he’s a complete and utter ~~douche bag~~ pain!

Having said that, I don’t know him personally and his temperament may have been exaggerated for the big screen so it’s unfair of me to completely character assassinate him after seeing one film. But, it is what it is and that’s the lasting impression that I got. Eduardo Saverin on the other hand is a likable character and I feel the movie is quite sympathetic to him but that probably has a lot to do with the fact that he had some sort of input in Mezrich’s book.

Yes I enjoyed The Social Network and recommend you watch it too but it’s not imperative that you do so immediately. You could wait until it comes out on DVD or does the rounds on Sky movies and not particularly feel out of the loop. For those of you who do see it any time soon and those who are on the fence about going;

Would you want to see it? / What did you think of it?

The Kindness of Strangers

2010-10-08T19:33:00.000+01:00

I went back to my old Secondary School with a friend yesterday. It was quite surreal being there but I'm so glad I went with her. As soon as I parked my car and stood scanning the buildings and fields, so many memories came rushing back. The lawns were still nicely manicured and the main building as imposing as ever.

Being there took me back to a time when I had to wear a garish bottle green uniform (which if I'm honest I didn't mind so much - I just hated the grey tights with black shoes!). I eventually graduated to wearing a suit (for 6th form), which was also a pain as I would question which one to wear every morning and longed to have my uniform back!

I remembered going to lessons, looking forward to PE, going on school trips, the times I was a boarder, meeting friends on the weekend, day dreaming about the future... To say I was having a nostalgic moment would be an understatement! I thought about my younger self and all of the things I would tell her if I could go back in time like;

"there is life outside these walls but it won't be what you're expecting so cherish this time".

[There's quite a lot I'd tell my younger self but I'll reserve that post for another day]

I got to see a few of my old teachers - the one's that were left anyway as so many had retired or moved on. They were happy to see me and eager to hear what I was up to nowadays. My favourite teacher was still there and it was great catching up with her. One of my old English teachers said something so lovely to me, and to her class about me that I almost teared up - and I don't cry randomly!

Her words gave me such a rush. They reiterated my belief that writing is what I am meant to be doing and left me safe in the knowledge that turning down my training contract (it's a legal thing) wasn't as crazy as others might think. Writing is what I'm passionate about and what makes me happy. It's not always possible for you to love what you do whilst others derive pleasure from it so for that I'm really thankful.

But back to the point of this post. While my friend and I walked around school, we were looking for a particular teacher and asked some students. They were really kind and pointed us in her direction. They walked there with us and made conversation which they really didn't have to do considering we were strangers to them.

It reminded me of another 'stranger' I got talking to earlier in the week when I went to the cinema. I'll generally talk to anyone and I find that when I'm alone, people have a tendancy to get chatting to me as I'm always smiling. To cut a long story short, the 'stranger' is no longer a stranger to me and has helped me more in the space of 4 days then people I've known for years.

Ever since I took my mood and therefore my life into my own hands and made a decision to be happy, I find that I've been meeting people who are ready and willing to help me along my journey. People who contribute to as opposed to dimish or take, take, take, take from my life. It's part of the reason I continue to smile - afterall, what real reason do I have not to?

I'm not sure if I'd call the helpful stranger a 'friend' in the real sense of the word quite yet, but I really appreciate them and would definitely advise giving people a chance. Not every random ~~weirdo~~ person who strikes up a conversation with you, wants something from you. You never know, they might just give you the energy boost you've been needing.

But...not wanting any harm to come to my readers, I suggest you exercise caution by not giving away personal information. If the ~~weirdo~~ person does exhibit 'crazy' tendancies, stop talking and run (or briskly walk) for the hills!

"Strangers are friends you have yet to meet!"

Met any interesting strangers lately?

Great Expectations

2010-10-04T01:18:00.001+01:00

I wrote the piece in the picture above whilst thinking about what to write for this post. Lately, the question I seem to be asked the most frequently, apart from "why don't you have a boyfriend/fiance" or "when are you getting married", is "what do you plan to do with you life now?" Err...what?! I find this question utterly frustrating and often feel like replying with: "why don't you just wait and see!"

The quickest way to kill a dream or ensure that it may well never come to pass is to tell someone about it. Granted, this isn't always true and often, sharing our goals or future plans with someone may well spurn you to get the job done even when you feel like quitting because I noticed that our fear of others perceiving us as a failure, is greater than that of viewing ourselves as such. Strange but understandable.

I'm tired of being asked about my future plans because quite frankly, I DON'T KNOW. That isn't to say that I have no idea what I want - that isn't the case. I do know and I'm just in the process of formulating a plan of action to implement to get me there - wherever there is. The funny thing is, I'm never asked this question by anyone close to me. It's always posed by ~~nosey~~ concerned distant relatives/family friends or here-today-gone-tomorrow 'friends' who, by the very nature of asking me such a question, prove that they don't know me well at all!

What I do know is that I will succeed. Full stop. No if, buts or maybes. I'm very driven and when I set my mind to something, it usually comes to pass. If it doesn't then I take what I can from the situation in the way of life lessons and move on. "Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it." And one of the things I cannot abide is time wasting because it's something that cannot be replaced. People shouldn't waste my (or their time) time asking pointless questions.

As annoyed as I get when asked the aforementioned, I try to remain (outwardly) calm and reel off the generic answer I formulated in order to keep inquisitive minds satisfied. There are so many things that I want to do in my life that aren't limited to being married off and then finally putting my womb to use! Yes a family of my own is up there on my goal list, but prior to that, I will accomplish a lot.

From a very young age there have been a number of expectations of me. Failure isn't an option in my family because I have seen first hand what it means to work hard and succeed against all odds whilst laughing in the face of adversity. For a long time I was striving to live up to these expectations for all of the wrong reasons i.e. to make family happy or simply to conform. But, as soon as I stopped having that mentality, and started living for me, I became a lot happier.

Some of my friends find my recently acquired sunny disposition a little unsettling. But those who have known me pre ~~The Lost Years~~ University, know that the shift in my attitude is merely a return to what was once the norm. I smile all the time and 'smiling sweetly' has been my mantra for quite some time. When I'm angry, I smile (well...not all the time but most of the time). When someone p*sses me off, I smile. When I'm nervous, I smile. And when I'm happy, I smile. Why? Because frowning will do nothing but give me premature worry lines and by smiling, eventually my internal mood adjusts to suit my face.

So, to those who are concerned for my well being, I appreciate it greatly but instead of asking for updates, why not just watch this space? I don't usually tend to volunteer information (except on this blog) so when asked awkward questions they're usually met with cagey responses. The next time you get the urge to interrogate someone about their relationship status, future plans etc, stop and think how it has or would make you feel if asked the same when you haven't reached your destination. Or maybe I'm just being hyper-sensitive?

How does it make you feel?

P.S. Although it was a few days ago, I want to wish Nigeria a happy 50th Independence. Yes we've come a long way, but we still have an incredible distance to travel. I'm not sure if we'll get there in my lifetime, but I sincerely hope so.

Also, October is Black History Month. As nice as it is that we have a month dedicated to black history, it saddens me that so many of us (not just limited to black people) know little or nothing about the real history of our people - myself included - as opposed to what's fed to us by the media. I hope to change that by reading more about it and hope others do the same. I reiterate: "Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it."

Does The Truth Really Set You Free?

2010-09-21T23:13:00.000+01:00

Apologies for the time between this blog and the last. I haven't disappeared again. I've just been really very ill for the last four days so this post has been sitting unfinished in my drafts. I finally started to feel better today so dragged myself to the computer to finish it. Explanation over. Let the blogging begin.

Just over a week ago, in keeping with my endeavour to constantly step out of my comfort zone and try new things (within reason), I spoke my mind and was really honest with someone, instead of keeping it to myself as I usually would. I now wish I hadn't. I've heard numerous times that honesty is always the best policy and that "the truth will set you free" but I beg to differ with the "always".

Although I think constant unequivocal honesty is unnecessary, that does not mean that I am an advocate for lying. Maybe just omissions? For you to get a better idea of what I'm talking about, I'll share with you my rather embarrassing moment. Details aside, I told someone I've known for a very very long time that I found them attractive. Why? Because I was feeling impulsive and suddenly taken with the premise that the information was better out than in. Oh how wrong I was.

[Note: I find people attractive on a weekly basis. I have eyes and I'm human! Doesn't mean I act on it though]

An awkward silence ensued and I'm sure I saw a tumble weed blow past - okay I didn't but you get the picture. My friend misunderstood my comment and when he eventually processed the information and found his voice again, he gave me reasons as to why I "shouldn't get involved with him". [Cue that screeching tyre noise you often hear in movies!] At no point did I mention the word "date" or "relationship".

I can be quite troublesome at times so proceeded to why he thought I shouldn't get involved with him as I was curious. The response was understandable yet somewhat amusing. Needless to say, things were a little strange with us for a few days (to be honest I still don't think it's normal now? I could be wrong), but I made it clear that our friendship was always going to take precedence over any supposed "invovlement". I'm not sure if he believed me because women have a tendency to say things they don't actually mean e.g.:

Boy: "Are you okay?"
Girl: "Yes"

Really the girl wants to say no but for some reasons expects the boy to use his powers of telepathy to discern what she really meant. This wasn't one of those moments. I genuinely meant what I said. Had I kept the somewhat pointless information to myself, my friend and I wouldn't have ended up in the uncomfortable situation we found ourselves in and thus, the truth set nothing but awkwardness free!

A few months ago, one of my friends told me that the boyfriend of someone I was relatively close to (but she didn't know) had cheated on her [cue my puzzled face]. I wasn't particularly shocked but I was a little annoyed because I didn't know what my friend expected me to do with the information. Luckily, I wasn't high on any sort of truth serum that day and chose not to tell my friend.

Before you're quick to berate me, not telling her doesn't make me a bad person (I think), I just choose my battles wisely. In my opinion, people will always shoot the messenger. Period. I learnt a long time ago from seeing other people foolishly jump in, not to meddle in other people's relationships - especially when you know the girl isn't going to leave the guy for his indiscretions. Telling her is a quick way to label yourself a troublemaker or that other overused word, a "hater".

I don't consider myself to be either and there are only a handful of friends I would take that bullet for and expose such a revelation to because we have that kind of blunt, tell all relationship. Lies ruin relationships, but I think so can truths. Maybe it's best to keep certain things to yourself? Or do you tell the truth without fail and suffer the consequences because that way you know your conscious is always clear?

What say you good people of the cyber world?

My Heart Bleeds

2010-09-20T23:03:00.000+01:00

For a brief period, whenever someone would tell me something about another person or themselves in a bid to court sympathy, I cultivated the habit of saying:

"awww...my heart bleeds. Oh wait, it does that anyway".

(cue sarcastic or straight face)

Quite harsh I know, especially given that I use the idiom in a manner contrary to that of which it was intended. But sometimes, people need a little tough love. Molly-coddling is not always the answer and can encourage weakness and unhealthy dependency.

A few days ago, I was discussing the fact that I had 666 Facebook friends. The purpose of mentioning it was obviously because of the sinister significance of the number. As a joke I said I needed to add or delete someone in order to change it.

By the end of the day, I had 665.

Strangely enough it wasn't my own doing. Someone on my friends list had deleted me. Considering I know 95% of all of my Facebook 'friends' (I went to a lot of schools!), it was a little odd. Within seconds I hazarded a guess as to who would have deleted me and low and behold I was right. At which point I began to laugh - actually it was more a smirk and then a giggle but I'm just being pedantic now.

No more than two days after I got back from Thailand, I was transported back to the days of my youth/the playground by so called 'friends', in a game of 'chinese whispers' and 'he-said, she-said' which is why it was rather unsurprising now that one of the people involved had deleted me and their partner in crime followed suit. Once upon a time, I'd probably have been quite upset because those that I'm close to are important to me.

However, while I was in Thailand, I gained a lot of perspective. I came back really happy so it was going to take a lot more than a little slander and the loss of some 'friends' that barely spoke to me any more anyway to upset my equilibrium and get me down. Drama is best left for the stage and the classroom and it has no place in my life. I hated acting at school and that hasn't changed years on.

Gone are the days when I could keep malice. I don't have time for that now and its only you that suffers in the end. Remembering to ignore someone and/or frowning can be hard work and much of the time, it doesn't have the desired affect on the other party. Well...not unless you're malicious enough to try to make life a living hell for them - but that takes a special kind of crazy that I do not and have never ascribed to! Also, premature worry lines, although useful for making me look less like a teenager and more my age, are not attractive!

Over the years I've made numerous acquaintances and people always make the mistake of saying that I have a lot of friends. I know a lot of people but my true friends can be counted using my two hands and I think that's the way it should be. Not everyone is going to like you. And as I wrote in my Birthday post here:

"Those who genuinely love you will reveal themselves to you in various ways. Don’t take them for granted."

The rest will inevitably fall by the wayside. Although you could try to hold on and salvage the friendship, only do so if you think it's worth fighting for. Otherwise, simply let go and let life run its natural course. Certain people are only meant to be with you for a reason and season. Once both have come and gone, so must the person. So...

When was the last time you 'lost' friend[s]? And how did you feel about it?

My Five Year Love Affair

2010-09-19T03:19:00.000+01:00

This summer marked the 5th anniversary of Blade and I. Quite honestly, I cannot believe that we've been together this long! He's been there through the good and the bad times, caused me a ridiculous amount of heartache, headache and expenditure! But on the flip side, he's stood the test of time and whilst other friends fell by the wayside, Blade has been a permanent fixture since the first day that I brought him home.

Because of him, I found myself in places I might not otherwise have been able to frequent and possibly shouldn't have even ventured too. He's met practically all of my friends and our numerous adventures, whether fun or disastrous, have added colour and texture to the rich tapestry that is my life. I love him dearly but have grown weary at the sight of him and I've had enough.

No doubt you're wondering who Blade is and how I can speak so candidly (and publicly) about our relationship. Well...'Blade' is my car. Yes I am one of those people who name their vehicles - having said that, I rarely actually call my car by his name as that would just be creepy. I am aware that by naming my car I have personified it but I thought it fair that I name him considering I'd named my first car (R.I.P. Ebony wherever you may be!)

Anyway, there is a point to this over-share; past that of revealing my slightly eccentric nature. I'm tired of people being shocked that Blade is still in my life! It's usually people I haven't seen in a while that somehow manage to weave a particularly irksome question into our dialogue and the exchange usually goes a little something like this:

Random: "So what care do you drive now?"
Me: "Oh I still have the same one"
Random: <laughs> "Seriously? You mean YOU. Still. Drive. The. Same. Car?!" (usually said with a subtle hint of disgust, confusion or both)
Me: "Yes, I. Still. Have. The. Same. Car"
Random: "Wow..." <silence>
Me: <cue feelings of inadequacy coupled with a sudden need to explain myself> "I can't afford a new car"
Random: "Why don't you just ask your Dad to buy you one?!" <said with a serious face>

This is the point where I usually stop talking. Initially when I got these annoying comments I would ask the person why they thought it was so simple for me to request that my father buy me a new car and he would purchase one without question? Their answer was always the same: "Because you're a Daddy's girl" and/or "Because your father is rich". I would then argue that being a Daddy's girl does not mean that you get cars on request and that my father isn't rich. But no amount of protests from me will change someone's mind if they believe what they've heard to be true.

Now I've learnt from experience and try my best to avoid the whole scenario if at all possible. When anyone asks about my car, I inform them that Blade and I are still together and when they express their bemusement, I say nothing. Of course I want a new car! And I probably would have had one last year when I was still working full time. But my decision to indulge my passion/further my education and begin my masters thwarted those plans and quite frankly, I don't regret it!

At my age, asking "Daddy" for a car seems ridiculous in my opinion given that my peers are getting married, having children, owning properties, excelling in their careers etc. I'm striving to acquire things on my own. I'm grateful that my parents bought Blade for me in the first place and considering he was practically brand new when I got him, I really can't complain as others aren't so fortunate. Yes I feel like I've outgrown him and that it's time for us to part company but until I finish my masters (in two weeks! Yay me!) and start making real money again, we're stuck together for a little longer.

What is the purpose of this post? To highlight the impact that seemingly benign comments can have on another person's psyche. I used to feel really down and inadequate every time someone berated me for still driving the same car and if I'm honest, the feeling only went away recently - i.e. a few days ago when someone asked yet again and I finally put things into perspective.

I have a great car that gets me from A to B and beyond. No he isn't the Mercedes, BMW, Audi, Mini or VW that people expect me to be driving. But I'm not living to satisfy other people's expectations of me (except maybe my parents) - I'm living to satisfy my own. My Dad always tells me that "it isn't about where you start, it's about where you finish". I started with Ebony, then moved on to Blade and it remains to be seen who I'll finish with, but I'm not worried, so no one else should be. You may have nothing now, but that isn't a permanent state of affairs if you don't want it to be and you're willing to work hard.

I wish more people would think before they speak.

Have you ever been asked any questions that made you feel bad?

I'm Back! (sort of)

2010-09-17T21:03:00.000+01:00

It's been a while since my last post...a very long while. I'd love to tell you that there is an Earth shattering, life changing reason for my hiatus, but there isn't. Admittedly, I have been going through a transition over the past few months, but given everything I've been through this year and still managed to blog, what I've been through of late should have been (and actually was) a walk in the park.

I'm sorry.

I deactivated my blog temporarily believing that people had stopped reading due to my sporadic posts and long absence. There is enough pointless drivel put uploaded in cyber space daily and I didn't want to contribute to the pollution. Imagine my surprise when I began receiving messages inquiring as to where my blog had gone. To those people that questioned and kicked me back into gear - I thank and appreciate you.

When I started my Complex Simpliciti, it was just meant to be an outlet for me as well as a space indulge my passion. The more people actually began reading, enjoying and following my random musings, the more excited I got and more readers I wanted to attract. This is the point where the problems began.

My posts became more erratic because I no longer wrote for myself but for other people. I would agonize over what to blog about and whether it would be something that people would want to read and hold their interest. The standards I set for myself were so high that when I finally got around to putting fingers to keyboard, I'd label my effort as sub-par and rather have no post than a rubbish one.

But who cares?! It would be nice if my readers loved everything I wrote but I live in the real world and 'yes men' don't do it for me. I actually like people who have varying opinions so we can get a good debate going and hopefully learn from one another.

This blog isn't topic specific and is literally about whatever I happen to be experiencing, doing or thinking about at any given time. If only one person out of everyone that stops by takes away something positive or useful from my rambling then great! This post is generally to apologise for my absence, let you know that I'll try to be a little more consistent. If my posts all seem a bit random, well I can be a pretty random person at the best of time and have eclectic taste to say the least!

So! Whether you're an old reader or a new one, stick with me as it's going to be an interesting ride :) My last post was on my birthday and what I failed to mention (as I didn't feel like sharing at the time) was that I flew out to Thailand that evening!

I was there for three weeks and it was one of the most amazing experiences ever! It allowed me loads of time to think and I was able to put things in perspective. Ever since I got home I've been ridiculously happy. Why I hear you ask? Simply because I made a decision to be and its actually working wonders - but more about that later. I love travelling and really want to go away again before the years over (finances permitting).

Where's the best place you've been too? (UK destinations count too!)

P.S. Elephant's ROCK!

10 Lessons in 12 Months

2010-08-13T00:35:00.000+01:00

There's nothing like the impending day on which you celebrate your birth to get you thinking. Said day for me is this very one.

Gone are the days when I used to count down the months, weeks or even seconds until my birthday. In recent years I've actually come to dread it slightly. Why? I hear you ask. It’s simple really.

Apart from the expectations friends (and acquaintances) have of some sort of celebration to occur, as a result of the high (and sometimes unrealistic) standards that I set for myself, I often feel as though I have fallen woefully short of these goals and my birthday is a reminder of the fact that I have not yet reached where I thought I'd be at .

A few days ago I was indulging in a little self-pity and lamenting on the things I have yet to accomplish whilst chatting to a friend on Skype. Somewhat annoyingly, or should I say luckily, they promptly reminded me of some positives and the things that I have achieved. **FITAFE!** (private acronym so don’t worry if you don’t get it).

I have been called a pessimist by some and an optimist by others and it never ceases to amaze me how I seamlessly manage to exhibit different aspect of my personality in different circumstances (NOTE: the fundamentals remain the same - otherwise I'd lose myself - but back to the point!). I prefer to regard myself as an optimistic realist.

I am optimistic about the future (most of the time) but I am realistic enough to know that very little in life – particularly that which we want - is easy or handed to you on a plate. The past year has been such a learning curve and the way today will be spent is a far cry from how my birthday was marked a year ago. But my excitement is palpable.

It’s a bubbling-from-deep-within-your-epicenter-whilst-experiencing-your-first-roller-coaster-ride sort of feeling. You know...nervous excitement. Not at the fact that I'm getting older but because I know that my best is yet to come and quite frankly I can't wait! I've made a number of subconscious changes over the past few months as a result of what I have learnt, as well as some daring choices in recent weeks! But ever since I did, things have worked in my favour and I have been on what I can only describe as a natural high, and felt pretty liberated.

So, what words of wisdom do I have to impart on my birthday, given my philosophical and introspective thought pattern of late? Well...none. Because I don't think my words are particularly that wise. But I can share with you what I have learnt or re-affirmed over the past 12 months. If you benefit from just one of these then that would make my day so let me know if you do:

10 Lessons in 12 Months

1. Never lose sight of who you are or what you stand for – “if you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything”. FACT.

2. If someone tells you something about themselves you may not want to hear, listen to what they are saying. They're usually telling the truth. No amount of hoping, wishing or praying will change a person who doesn't want to change themselves.

3. Not everyone who says they love or care about you does. There are some who will secretly harbour malicious intent and be covertly or openly selfish. Willful blindness isn't wise and will inevitably lead to disappointment at a later date.

4. Those who genuinely love you will reveal themselves to you in various ways. Don’t take them for granted.

5. Love yourself. Be your own greatest supporter but remember, there is a fine line between self appreciation/confidence and conceit. Try to find a balance.

6. Surround yourself with positive people. Such people have been one of my greatest assets during this period of transition. They may not understand or agree with your decisions, but they're supportive nonetheless. People like this = Priceless.

7. Every so often, do something that scares you. I don't mean something illegal or reckless! Just step out of your comfort zone. So many great things have happened to me as a result of doing this. Try it.

8. Don’t be afraid - of others, of the future and most importantly yourself. Have faith in your abilities. “If you think you can, you can. If you think you can't you're probably right.”

9. Don’t be afraid to follow your dreams. If you’re passionate about something, go for it. Work tirelessly until you achieve it and if/when you get knocked back, dust yourself off and start again. “Those who have never failed have usually never tried.”

10. Smile. Even when you’d rather frown, try to smile. You’d be surprised how far you can get with a nice, welcoming smile.

Feel free to add to the list and I hope you enjoy my Birthday. Eat some cake and have a drink for me!

xXx

My Backbone

2010-08-04T00:25:00.000+01:00

My last post was well over a month ago - those of you who read regularly already know this so to you I apologise. To people reading for the first time, I say welcome.

I've been stuck in limbo re-evaluating and sorting what I know from what I don't know as well as what I want from what I don't want, only to find that really I know little and want a lot. Confused? So was/am I.

"A little knowledge that acts is worth infinitely more than much knowledge that is idle."

That quote came from Khalil Gibran and it spoke volumes to me when I read it. I haven't been able to write a post for so long because I wasn't particularly sure what to write and I didn't want to further pollute the already relatively rancid community that we call cyber space with my mindless drivel.

Don't get me wrong, I 'blog'/write internally, everywhere and anywhere. I just don't always document my musings and share them with the world or keep them for my own records - but I'm hoping to change this. I finally decided that it was time to end this hiatus and write something so here it is.

I am all to aware that the knowledge I possess is akin to that of a drop in the Ocean and thus, minuscule in the grand scheme of things. But I shall use this little knowledge to act now and write about something, (or rather someone) I know well.

My Father.

Not enough people know, appreciate or understand their Fathers in my opinion, but mine, as I have come to describe him in recent years, is my backbone and I love him dearly. What has he got to do with anything and what is the point of this post I hear you ask? Well what's the point of knowing Beyonce's eating habits, about Orlando Bloom's secret wedding or Jordon's latest surgery? There isn't one...but for some it makes for entertaining reading and so I continue.

I love my Father (and Mother) far more than I can articulate. He is the one constant that has always been there to restore my faith in the Martians we call men as well as impart pearls of wisdom and amusing anecdotes. Some of my fondest memories are of times spent with my Father. He is the ultimate optimistic realist and someone I know I will forever get a straight answer from.

Our relationship hasn't always been as close as it is now but I wouldn't have had it any other way. His words of encouragement, sporadic hugs and reminders that he loves me have been invaluable over the past few years. He has listened to my tales of woe/joy and offered sound, although sometimes shocking and slightly controversial advice. I find his frankness refreshing and love the fact that I don't have to hide things from him as many people do with their parents (especially if they have African one's!)

I can't imagine not having him in my life but know that there will come a day when this will be a reality. Until that time, I'll continue to cherish the man that he is, has been and will be. The support of my parents during this period of transition means more to me than they'll ever know.

Admittedly I'm still roaming around in limbo a bit, but now I simply visit as opposed to being a permanent resident and that's largely down to my Dad and a few very intelligent, positive and helpful friends. I love you all.

I'll leave you with another quote from the great Khalil Gibran:

"Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection. Advance and do not fear the thorns in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood."

I have finished halting and hindering my advancement. The question is have you?

The Cut

2010-06-28T20:32:00.000+01:00

Last week, I sensibly, or hastilty depending on your stance, decided that I would forego going to my hairdressers so much and tend to my hair myself! *gasps* I made this decision because my hairdresser recently refurbished her salon and decided to 'refurbish' her prices right along with it. I have no problem with paying a marginal premium to do my hair but it was just getting ridiculous!

Now this might sound trivial to some (especially the guys) but I've been going to the hairdressers since I was really young which means that I pretty much grew up hardly ever washing my hair myself, knowing how to cornrow and do other supposedly 'simple' things, much to some poeple's shock and disgust.

[NOTE: In my defence, it wasn't my decision, just how I happened to grow up. Plus it's served me well because I supposedly have 'good hair' but I digress...]

In light of my decision to wash, steam and treat my hair at home (only these things because there's no way I shall be relaxing - i.e. chemically straightening for the non Afro-Caribbeans amongst us - my hair myself! I'll be back to my hairdressers for that no matter what the cost, until I'm brave/strong enough to go natural), I went on a hair-care shopping spree on Saturday and bought a 'salon hood dryer', searched high and low for the right rollers and also purchased a number of products I thought would be useful.

After all of that running around I was too tired to wash my hair on Saturday night so embarked on the ardous task I awoke on Sunday morning. Two washes, a shampoo and steam later, everything appeared to be going quite well until I attempted to put the rollers in to set my hair. (stick with me guys, there is a method to my madness and it is a relevant story).

Getting the rollers in was a bit of a fiasco if I'm honest but I put it down to it being my 1st time. As I sat under the hairdyer waiting for it to dry, the dryer suddenly cut off. Within seconds, every electrical item in my room had shut down! The house alarm started going so I walked over to it, punched in the code to shut it off then ran outside (with my head full of rollers looking like a crazy woman!) to the check the fuse box in the garage.

Low and behold, our electric garage door wouldn't open. I had to find the key and do it manually. When I managed to get it open, the fuse box was fine. And then came the sudden realisation that there was a power outage on the street. My suspicions were confirmed when my Dad rang our neighbour across the street and he said he was experiencing the same as us.

Forget the food in the fridges and freezers (yes they're intentional pluralised) and the fact that we were now trapped in the house because of our electric gate, all I could think of was the fact that my hair would now have to air dry! As I sat in my room, lamenting on the fact that I would be sporting somewhat volumious hair, I realised how dependant on technology we are in my house and in the world generally.

Almost everything I wanted to do, I couldn't. I didn't feel like reading so thought about going online to kill time, but the wireless router was obviously unplugged. I thought about listening to music but my iPod needed charging. I was going to work on a story on my laptop but decided against it to conserve battery. I couldn't even eat because the microwave wasn't working and I didn't feel like getting pots and pans out so restricted myself to some cereal.

After the cereal, I gave up on my hair, took the rollers out to reveal what I had feared, wrapped it up in a scarf and went back to bed. At least sleeping didn't require any digital appliance. (Luckily for me - unlike my parents and brother, I can sleep in the heat and don't require the use of air-conditioning.)

So, the moral of this little anecdote...well there isn't one really, I just thought I would share and give you a laugh. I guess I could say I need to be less reliant on all of my gadgets and maybe consider going back to my hairdresser? Also, having electric gates is all well and good until there's a power cut!*

On a more serious note, I'll try to stick with the whole washing my hair myself thing and hopefully I'll improve over time and get the hang of the rollers but with regards to technology, how reliant are you on it? Good people of the cyber world I'd like to know...if nothing else it would be nice to feel like I'm not the only one who'd suffer during a power cut.

What electrical thing can't you do without?
(keep it clean! lol)

*There is, albeit rather inconveniencing, a contingency for such an event with regards to our gate. There's a way to unlock it manually but it requires a lot of strength and two people so if you're trapped in the house alone you'll be up the proverbial creep without a paddle!

"The Collector"

2010-06-19T23:05:00.000+01:00

As I stated in my previous post, I went from watching Indomeno at the English National Opera to a preview of The Collector at the Empire cinema in Leicester Square. Not that it needs saying, but the contrast between the two was VAST! Indomeno, although tragic in parts, was ultimately quite beautiful whereas The Collector was dark and pretty horrifying.

Before giving my opinion on this latest horror brought to us by the twisted - sorry, gifted -writers of some of the Saw saga, it's probably best that I share a brief synopsis with you:

"Desperate to repay his debt to his ex-wife, an ex-con plots a heist at his new employer's country home, unaware that a second criminal has also targeted the property, and rigged it with a series of deadly traps."

Now that that's out of the way, where to even begin?! Probably by saying that I like watching horror movies but they generally don't tend to have the sort of effect on me that they should. Gone at the days where I used to close my eyes, visibly flinch or hide behind cushions when watching something scary. Now (and for many years), I've been able to watch the most twisted of scenes without batting and eyelid - which probably says a lot about my mental state but isn't what this post is about.

The cinematography was good but nothing to shout from the rooftops about. I liked the contrast between the light of day when all was right with the world, and the dismal night scenes when all manner of hell was unleashed. As I mentioned before, horror movies generally have little or no effect on me but The Collector almost had me averting my gaze...almost.

Gone are the days of movies that have a cathartic dénouement. Instead they have been replaced with increasingly gruesome pseudo-flicks that are probably more interested in shocking and disgusting the audience whilst ensuring that a few sequels can be spun from it as opposed to actually telling a complete story in one sitting.

I enjoyed The Collector from the stance of it being a mindless, meaningless horror but there was nothing profound about it. I left having learnt nothing except for the fact that buying a house in the middle of nowhere without a panic room or on-site security is not for me!

Another thought I had was where the writers for such films get their inspiration from and if they see a psychiatrist regularly? If not, they might need to. I know there are a lot of sick, twisted people in the world who unrepentantly commit crimes against their fellow man but making/watching such things could lead to copy-catting and give psychos weird new ways to hurt people that they'd previously never even considered? [Just a thought]

In summary, if you like horror movies and feel like being freaked out then this is definitely one for you. However, if you're squeamish, you might want to sit this one out or wait until it's out on DVD so you can pause for breath at appropriate moments and then resume when ready.

The Collector is out on the 25th June 2010 across the UK. If you do manage to see it then let me know what you think.

My Night At The Opera

2010-06-19T21:48:00.000+01:00

When I was a lot younger, my Father (I love him more than words can express) took my brother and I to the Opera to see Carmen. I don't remember a great deal of it but I do remember being captivated by the drama of it all and hearing songs sung like I'd never heard them sung before.

Yesterday (Friday night), my brother kindly took me to the English National Opera (ENO) to watch Indomeno [for my Nigerian/African readers, there is no link between Indomeno and the creator of Indomie noodles].

Indomeno was composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and was his first mature masterpiece. The ENO website describes it as taking:

"..a stock mythological plot and transformed it into a life-and-death drama of real characters confronted by the personal and political consequences of choices made in a time of war."

The director, Katie Mitchell, is said to have a "unique directorial style" and unique is quite the understatement. If I'm honest, I'm not particularly sure that I liked the staging of the whole show.

Given that it was based on a mythological plot, I didn't feel as though the modern wardrobe of the cast, nor the show-home like staging meshed well together. I've never seen a production with more scene changes than this and as a result, it meant on occasion dropping the curtain to re-arrange things.

Although the staging was beautifully detailed and you could see that a lot of time and money had been spent crafting it, I don't think that it worked. Feeling as though I was looking through a high-end furniture catalogue at one stage, was presumably not the directors desired effect.

Notwithstanding the points raised above, the show was still filled with virtuosic solo vocal performances and rousing choruses. The interaction between protagonists was often highly emotive and one solo performed by the singer playing Idamante (son of King Idomeno) was worthy of a standing ovation. His vocal control was second to none and genuinely moved me.

My brother said that Indomeno wasn't as good as an Opera he'd seen the week before so I'm hoping to see that one as well in order to draw my own conclusions. I realise that it isn't for everyone but I'd urge you to give it a try at least once in your life. You never know...you just might like it?

**After watching Indomeno I then went to a movie preview in Leicester Square which contrasted greatly from the Opera but more about that in my next post**

The Lost Definition of Hope

2010-06-16T15:11:00.000+01:00

Those of you who read my blog regularly will know that I not only write but enjoying reading poetry. Anthony Anaxagorou is a poet and writer from North London who already has two books under his belt. In 2009 he published his first book Card Not Accepted which was later followed by Poems to Maya - I own both and would highly recommend either.

The detachment from various societal ideals coupled with the spiritual search for inner peace are the main focus of his work. His sincere and gripping style written from his own personal experience is what has won him the affection and respect of many. MOBO award winning hip hop artist Akala, who wrote the Foreward for Card Not Accepted, wrote that:

"Anthony's work speaks, like all genuine works of art, of what it is to be human."

And I must say that I am inclined to agree with him.

This month saw the release of his latest publication, a digital ebook called The Lost Definition of Hope. It features a number of poems written over the course of four months and a portion of the books price is being given to Medecins Sans Frontieres - an independent organisation who deal with getting aid out to countries caught in heavy conflict.

I am well aware that poetry isn't for everyone as many people find it far too abstract or believe that it delves deeper into the meanings or description of things than they are willing to go. But, for anyone who holds this view, I urge you give it another chance. The Lost Definition of Hope would be a great place to start because the clever selection of powerful poetry means that there is something everyone.

The book opens with the chapter 'Hope in Society'. From this section the poem This Is Us cleverly encapsulates our civilisation using brilliant wordplay and London's Dead, although melancholic in tone, is a gritty and accurate depiction of our capital city. In Three Minutes is a sad but necessary reminder of mortality and the beautifully steady tone of Someone Somewhere left me with an inexplicable yet pensive smile on my face when I reached its end.

From the chapter 'Hope Within', Slow Boat Ride metaphorically carried me "over an ocean of frosted glass" as a result of its dream-like quality and The Future succinctly summarised how I (and I'm sure a number of people), have at some stage or another felt about the future.

The chapter 'Hope in Love' houses my favourite poem of all; Loves Epitaph. I find it difficult to believe that anyone could read it and feel nothing. Loves Epitaph faultlessly depicts the pitfalls of love whilst evoking painful feelings of loss and finality in a way that is surprisingly not depressing.

All I Can Write perfectly describes my feelings about my own writing and I almost wish it was written for me while Song Of Loss is a painfully honest account of what it is to miss someone that was so much a part of your life.

The poems I have mentioned are just the few that particularly struck a cord with me, but The Lost Definition of Hope has a lot more to offer. I'm not going to lie to you and say that because I like poetry, I understand what all poets are trying to say all the time. I don't. But perseverance with complex language or metaphors will inevitably lead to a deeper understanding so I say stick with it.

At the measly sum of just £1 ($1.45), you stand to gain far more than you would loose by purchasing this ebook, even if you only like one from the whole collection. Plus, you have the added factor that 25% of the purchase price will be going to a good cause.

If you put it in context, you'd pay a pound for a bottle of water whilst out, for one track on iTunes or . So why not for an ebook that you can keep forever? For those of you who are interested, you can purchase it here: http://anthonyanaxagorou.com/. If you do, please let me know as I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. And for the rest of you, a parting question...

Is poetry pointless?

Is Fake The New Real?

2010-06-12T08:46:00.000+01:00

Last week I got a hair cut. Yes, a haircut. (And I don't mean one of those 'trendy', lets-all-jump-on-the-bandwagon-and-shave-one-side-of-my-head haircuts that only suit a few people! e.g. my friend Amara and the singer Monica). I got a relatively 'normal' (whatever that means) haircut.

Those of you who know me or have seen my natural hair will understand the gravity of my actions for the following reasons:

Like many women, beginning in my formative years, I have been conditioned into thinking by all and sundry, that a woman's hair is her beauty - especially a black woman, and thus, the longer it is, the more enhanced your beauty.
My hair gets and is....sorry was, pretty long*.
Afro hair takes a WHILE to grow and generally won't grow past a certain length if not properly taken care of or if it has reached its peak.

In order to give you a visual, and for the purpose of this post, below are some pictures of my hair pre-chop. They aren't that recent so it may have grown since they were taken. [I didn't take a picture before I got the haircut because my friend had my camera. These will have to do]:

For those of you who are wondering, there aren't any additional tracks. That's just my hair.

Now that you've seen what it was, here's a picture of how it is:

Maybe not so drastic to some but considering I lost a few inches and can just about tie it up in a ponytail, it's a noticeable change. What is the reason for this post I hear you say? Well, sharing my hair tales with you was prompted by a post I read this morning called 'Fake Is The New Real'. In said post, the author (a man) advocates the use of fake hair, fake nails and fake eyelashes, much to my surprise and states that:

"if you have weave in your hair or you wear fake nails, fake eyelashes or whatever, [he's] behind you 100%. We all want to modify ourselves in different ways, be it fake or not. And just when you think that you’re being too fake, remember it’s better to be “fake” and realize you are being fake, then to be real and regard it for more than it really is."

I agree when he says that we all want to modify ourselves in different ways and it probably is better to be 'fake' and aware of it than 'real' and feel superior. But has this all just gotten out of hand? I got my first weave when I was in my late teens and it was for a special occasion. Unlike many girls, I wasn't hooked after that first one even though it did give me a more 'European' look with instant 'growth' that was easier to comb and maintain. Nowadays I see primary school children with weaves and wonder if the world has gone mad!

I've always been quite happy braiding my hair and only felt the pressure to weave it when I was at University to get a more 'mature' look and because that's just what most girls did. I'm quite unfortunate/fortunate - dependant on your stance - in the fact that I look considerably younger if my hair is braided and I'm wearing flat shoes. Although that isn't a problem, it can be quite annoying at times - especially now that I'm in my 20's.

Given that my hair is supposedly 'nice', I'm always being asked why I don't forsake extensions, braids, weaves etc and leave it out all the time. The simple answer to that is, apart from the fact that my hair is so coarse, when it grows and I attempt to comb it, it induces tears, I also like change. I like the fact that Afro-Caribbean hair is so versatile and I generally don't tend to keep one hairstyle longer than 2 months!

Another reason I don't leave it out is because it would mean frequently relaxing (i.e. chemically straightening) it in order for me to manage my hair and the thought of putting chemicals in my locks all the time isn't too appealing. I've even considered going completely natural - yes! cutting off the chemically treated ends and going back to basics but I'm not sure whether I'm brave enough for that yet.

I've tried fake hair, fake eyelashes and fake nails (for a day!) and none of them feel as good as the real thing. Don't get me wrong, I love long hair so sewing a few tracks in rather than waiting for my hair to grow to a length it will never reach is an easy fix. Similarly with fake eyelashes, I have really short curly eyelashes so it was nice to have long one's for a day - but it did feel really unnatural and they irritated me after about 15 minutes so the novelty quickly wore off!

The fake nails, for me, were the worst of them all. My nails are naturally long and healthy but fake ones keep acrylic patterns and nail varnish on them longer so I thought I'd try. HUGE MISTAKE. I kept them for less than 24 hours and returned to the shop the next day to have them removed. Never again.

In conclusion, I plan on keeping my hair out all summer to give it a rest from the braids and weaves etc. I won't be getting any fake eyelashes (for now) and I certainly won't be having my nails done again. But I'm glad that I've experienced all of these things to know what I do and don't like. I'm happy that I am now comfortable enough with myself to walk around minus all the enhancements. Weave or no weave, I am who I am.

I don't begrudge anyone who is partial to any of the above, because when used responsibly, additional embellishments can highlight certain aspects of your beauty, but it can also mask it. Some of my friends recently had a huge debate at my house about the pros and cons of natural vs. chemically processed hair and weaves.

Is 'fake the new real'? Read that guy's article (if you can) and share your views as I'd love to know.

In the mean time, I'll leave you with a poem I wrote last year about my (and other people's) feelings towards my hair:

Am NOT.

My hair.

It does not define me.

And therefore you should not confine or pigeon hole me

Into that 'good hair' category.

Because this hair that you see,

The millions of dark brown strands

That adorn my slightly off centred head,

Affectionately and appropriately known as

My crowning glory.

Is NOT all that makes me ME.

Yes my hair IS a blessing

And I may be wrong but I am guessing

That you admire the fact that it can (and does)

Get somewhat long.

And it IS pretty thick, even though

I have been relaxing it since I was a child.

But if I did not, my hair would be more than visibly wild

And it would therefore be a misrepresentation of my personality.

Because if you look a little deeper you will surely see,

That there is more to me than

Just

Hair.

This hair that has often been the bain of my life,

That has caused me an unbelievable amount of pain and strife,

Really..

You would not believe the lengths gone too

Simply to make it look presentable,

And at times I really do resent it ALL!

Especially when I make known my intentions

To part ways with my relatively lengthy locks,

The way people protest makes you think

I had asked them to go for the chop!

But the sooner they realise that my hair is not me,

That it does not define, nor should it confine me to just 1 category,

The sooner strangers and hair haters might see ME in my entirety

*My use of the term is relative to that of Afro-Caribbean hair.

Enron

2010-06-07T20:43:00.000+01:00

"Oh, the jealousy, the greed is the unraveling. It's the unraveling and it undoes all the joy that could be."

- Joni Mitchell

I like going to the theatre but in recent years I haven't gotten the chance to go as much as I'd like to. However, last week, after getting a heads up from one of my colleagues, I got free tickets to see ENRON at the Noel Coward Theatre. Some of you might have just read the name 'Enron' and been reminded of the scandal a few years ago but for those of you who don't know, the following is a succinct summary from our dear friends at Wikipedia on the debacle:

"Enron Corporation (former NYSE ticker symbol ENE) was an American energy company based in the Enron Complex in Downtown Houston, Texas. Before its bankruptcy in late 2001, Enron employed approximately 22,000^[1] staff and was one of the world's leading electricity, natural gas, communications and pulp and paper companies, with claimed revenues of nearly $101 billion in 2000.^[2] Fortune named Enron "America's Most Innovative Company" for six consecutive years. At the end of 2001 it was revealed that its reported financial condition was sustained substantially by institutionalized, systematic, and creatively planned accounting fraud, known as the "Enron scandal". Enron has since become a popular symbol of willful corporate fraud and corruption. The scandal also brought into question the accounting practices of many corporations throughout the United States and was a factor in the creation of the Sarbanes–Oxley Act of 2002. The scandal also affected the wider business world by causing the dissolution of the Arthur Andersen accounting firm.^[3]

Enron filed for bankruptcy protection in the Southern District of New York in late 2001 and selected Weil, Gotshal & Manges as its bankruptcy counsel. It emerged from bankruptcy in November 2004, pursuant to a court-approved plan of reorganization, after one of the biggest and most complex bankruptcy cases in U.S. history. A new board of directors changed the name of Enron to Enron Creditors Recovery Corp., and focused on reorganizing and liquidating certain operations and assets of the pre-bankruptcy Enron."

[Hopefully it's all coming back to you now, and if it isn't then never mind but keep reading anyway as there's a wider lesson to be learnt.]

ENRON is a 2009 play by Lucy Prebble (an English playwright) based on the Enron scandal and directed by Rupert Goold. Admittedly, I didn't remember the ins and outs of it before going to see the play, save to say that it was always on the news when I was younger, left scores of people out of pocket and was one of the most notorious scandals in financial history! I purposely chose not to read about it prior to seeing the production because I wanted to determine whether Prebble and Goold would successfully manage to convey the story to people who weren't familiar with the details of its origin.

They succeeded.

Although the syntax was peppered with profanity and as a result, probably should have come with a warning - I say this because there was a man sitting next to my friend and I with his daughter who looked about 5 years old! Rather unsurprisingly, they left at the intermission and did not return...but I digress. Aside from the frequent expletives and at times questionable American accents, it was a very enjoyable show.

The creative use of light and the cleverly interwoven satire helped to make a somewhat complex story easy viewing and effortlessly digestible - provided you kept up with the dialogue (which wasn't too difficult to do). The cast of eighteen (at least there were 18 according to my count), did a great job of conveying the tragedy and comedy of this story.

On reflection there is little to find amusing about what happened, particularly when you think about the 22,000 employees who not only lost their jobs but their savings as well - because they were, at a stage, paid in stock and encouraged to invest all they had in the company to make the employees feel as though they had a vested interest.

It's one thing to laugh along at Lucy Prebble's re-telling because that is how she intended it to be. But when I considered the story in real terms and thought about the lives that the Enron scandal left in tatters, it made me reflect on my own life and how the selfish actions of a few can have such large consequences for others around them.

I'm not saying that you should always put the needs of others before yourself, because if you aren't mindful about your own well being then who will be? But I do believe that it is ignorant and slightly selfish/arrogant to think that your actions affect no one but yourself, or to care little as to the repercussions of said actions.

According to Horace; "He who is greedy is always in want". Striving for greatness is a wonderful and commendable attribute and as you can see here, I'm a great believer in it, but not at the detriment of my fellow man or my goodness. Having a goal and knowing when to stop is paramount. The question is...

Do you?

Sex And The City 2

2010-05-31T09:17:00.000+01:00

As with most women across the globe will be doing now and over the coming weeks, I watched Sex And The City 2 on Saturday night. Hmm... what to say? I'm a fan of the series and the movie's predecessor was what got me hooked in the first place [I didn't watch SATC when it aired initially because I didn't think it was age appropriate at the time - I was right], but I feel as though the writers have lost their way with this one.

Now my lack of enthusiasm is probably a reflection of my present state of mind as opposed to a problem with the film itself because it pretty much did what it said on the tin and what one would expect from SATC. In this sequel, there was sex, in various cities and more wardrobe changes than Lady Gaga at one of her pantomime's she calls a concert.

[Note: I don't really have a problem with Lady Gaga, I just feel she's more about the outrageous outfits and shock factor than the music, which to me is a sad state of affairs and detracts from the essence of being a musician. But she's doing well so good for her.]

However, considering the highly impressionable, clone-prone society we seem to be living in, are four highly sexed, clothes horses really the best role models for us all - particularly given the current economic climate? I can guarantee that within a few weeks, (as with the last film), ASOS will be stocking their versions of the outfits worn in SATC 2. But I don't even think that most of the outfits worn in the movie were seriously wearable for special occasions let alone day to day!

Any one that knows me personally will know that I love clothes, shoes, bags etc... I have my own personal style and like fashion but would not describe myself as fashionable because I pretty much wear whatever I like regardless of whether it's 'on trend' or not. Contrary to the popular belief (that some of my friends hold), I know little about fashion - high fashion anyway. And I can't say I'm too bothered about it.

In recent months my 'love' of fashion has turned into more of a 'like' because there are a number of far more important things in the world. I feel like I'm standing on a precipice and could free-fall into 'truth' and enlightenment if only I'm brave enough to take the first step. You're probably wondering what on Earth I'm talking about and think that's a pretty extreme metaphor but I know what I mean - hopefully you get it? (if not, feel free to email me)

I'm still a fan of the series because I think it was somewhat revolutionary for its time and serves as a good reference point of the changing tide - but that time has been and gone. I'm no feminist and won't ever profess to be. Women, although still at a slight disadvantage to their male counterparts aren't the prissy housewives they once were. Samantha (arguably the most bolshy of the four) is older than my mother for goodness sake and watching the exploits of her character makes me cringe as opposed to cheer. Thus, in my opinion it's probably time to stop.

I have a feeling that many women will get themselves into debt trying to copy the lifestyle of these fictional characters which means good news for credit card companies and bad news for these people's credit ratings. And as Christiana once wrote (I'm paraphrasing here): 'Living a champagne lifestyle on a lemonade budget makes little or no sense'!

So, to those of you who have watched it (this includes men), what say you on the Sex And The City epidemic?

Priorities

2010-05-28T19:19:00.000+01:00

"Never make someone a priority when all you are to them is an option"

I had that quote as my Facebook status just over two weeks ago and it was so pertinent to my life at the time and has been for a long while. I just haven't been able to...or rather chose not to, write about it. I suppose the only reason why I'm writing about it now is because it is said that the first step on the road to recovery is acceptance, and I came to the conclusion that by accepting that I, more often than not, make people priorities to whom I am only an option, the sooner I can rectify the problem and move on.

I have and will continue to maintain that my gift and my curse is that I care too much about people. Ever since I became somewhat self reliant and mobile (i.e. when I got my car/licence), it exacerbated the problem because it meant that I could go further afield and do more than I did previously.

A perfect example of this was while I was at University (in the MIDLANDS) and one of my friends called lamenting on the fact that someone had ploughed into their car and destroyed it. So I, being the stupid....sorry, caring person that I am, drove to LONDON at 1am (after work) only to get there and realise that it was simply their (electronic) side mirror that had been hit. [insert various expletives here]

You'd think I'd have learnt my lesson back then? But four years on and I'm still pretty similar. I'm far more jaded than I was then and will question my actions a lot more before carrying them out but ultimately, I don't often put myself before my friends and this needs to stop.

I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into a selfish b-with-an-itch, as it's just not in my nature. But I'm definitely making myself less available to a number of people. Previously I would answer my phone and reply to texts, emails, Facebook messages etc religiously. Now I do so if/when I can and if I happen to forget it's okay because the world will continue to turn as it has done for time immemorial.

If not for my newly acquired state of mind, a situation...actually, more like a messy, surreptitious saga, that I found myself somehow unknowingly connected to, may have been the breaking of me. But instead I smiled, pitied the lying perpetrators of the whole debacle and carried on with my day - much to the surprise of a select few.

[Note: I probably shouldn't say 'lying' as I don't want to be accused of slander because one of the people in question claims they didn't lie whilst others say they did. To be honest, I could care less but just thought I'd get that disclaimer in!]

I was able to smile and carry on because I had gotten back some of my inner peace a few weeks previously. For months it had eluded me but I remember the specific moment that it returned and I wasn't going to let something so trivial take it away from me again. I always knew, but in that instance was actively reminded of the fact that stressing over something you have little or no control over will only be detrimental to your health - not that of the person annoying/upsetting you.

If you're anything like me, then while you're loosing sleep (and I hardly sleep enough as it is so to loose sleep for me isn't good!), the other person is snoring comfortably in their bed unaware of your torment. Or worse still, they know what you're going through and it doesn't affect them anyway. No one has the right to anger you unless you let them. Easier said than done I know, but it's true.

Now you know a fraction of the reason for my inconsistent blogging of late. I'm not going to make excuses, I'll just do better. I'm going to try harder from now on to prioritise my life and more importantly my time better.

The question is, will you?

Smile

2010-05-18T17:07:00.000+01:00

A proper post is coming soon. In the mean time, check out my poem 'Smile' here on Anthony Anaxagorou's site. Make sure you read more than just my poem because he has a lot of interesting things to say as a result of his enlightened view on life.

'The pain of not doing something, is greater than the pain of doing something.'

- William Dennis Miner

The Sound of Music

2010-05-12T17:46:00.000+01:00

My mind is alive.

With the sound

Of music.

My music.

Not hers,

Yours,

His.

My music.

That brings tears

To my ears.

Not my eyes.

My ears.

They leak

Liquids of

Love.

My love.

For self.

Forsaking

All else.

My heart.

Beat driven

By desperate

Decibels.

My feet.

Dance to,

Their own

Tune.

My hands.

Hold me

Down.

Not you.

My lips.

Speak truth.

Denounce

Your lies.

My mind.

Now at rest.

With the

Sound of

My music

In my chest.

Assumpta. O

May 2010

Lately...

2010-05-11T10:57:00.001+01:00

Lately I've been feeling somewhat despondent and forlorn - much to the utter dismay of those closest to me who have been able (or cared enough) to detect the change. I had a conversation with a friend of mine last week and got the best advice I have had in a while. I've been making a lot of bizarre choices or worse still, not making any decisions at all. And after some other words of wisdom he said:

"Be your own best friend"

After he said that I replied that I already am my own best friend because I am the only person who, in all honesty and practicality, will never leave me. But that is part of my problem, because I have a tendency to live in my own head and become temporarily reclusive. He then said:

"Be a good friend to yourself"

And then he went on to advise me to take a step back when I'm about to do something and advise myself as I would a good friend. Simple, and common sense I hear you say - and I concede that it is. But common sense is not very common and sometimes what you need is someone to state the obvious in order for you to see the wood from the trees and past your present situation or circumstance.

Yesterday I had the strangest day. Had it happened two weeks ago, I can honestly say that the outcome would have been very different and for want of a better phrase, I probably would have been a hot mess! But everything that happened, I took in my stride and chose not to allow the actions of one deceitful person affect my life any further.

The phrase: 'No one has the power to make you feel inferior without your consent' sprang to mind. It's true and applies to a lot more than inferiority. People will forever do stupid things that annoy you - whether intentionally or unintentionally. You have no control over their actions but you do control your own. Easier said than done I know but it worked for me yesterday. I kept being asked if I was "ok"? And I was, because I chose to be.

As I told a friend who was also involved in the strangeness of yesterday, holding on to anger towards insignificant people only distresses you. The person or people you are angry with will no doubt sleep soundly in their beds at night while you slowly destroy yourself. What's the point? They're not going to pay for your therapy or the plastic surgery/botox you'll need to need to eradicate the premature worry lines!

My life is a canvass and although I've been stagnant and stood staring at it for a while, I'm reading to pick up the brush and keep painting. People will always try to ruin your life's work - trust me, I know. But if you had just an inkling of what I am capable of, then you would know that for me to fall short of my goals or rest on my laurels would be a tragedy. Just watch me create my masterpiece, because the best is yet to come.

Better yet...care to join me?

4am: Twisted

2010-05-05T19:06:00.000+01:00

Twisted sheets reflect the
Twisted hearts that lie beneath.
Reminiscent of rope.
Intertwined.
Inseparable.
He sleeps deep,
Whilst she looks upon
The world,

Shrouded in dark shadows
Varying in shades of black and grey.
Just like their union.

Twisted sheets reflect the
Twisted speech and the lies
She thinks but need not speak.
Because he does not ask
Just simply sleeps.
Soundly.
Softly.
He sojourns in the land of nod
Whilst she fights
Unimaginable evil
In her nightmares.

Twisted sheets reflect the
Twisted feats he performs
In order to keep her near.
Tiny boxes
Housing coveted delights.
Like invisible shackles
Around her neck, wrist and ears.
Emotional blackmail
On a shiny, sweet smelling,
Or semi-precious metal scale.
But alas
His inconsistent silence

Still deafens her.

Assumpta.O

May 2010

In Loving Memory..

2010-04-29T12:14:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, a very special person was laid to rest.
Gil Albin passed away late Thursday/early Friday morning on the 22 April 2010.

He was only 19 years old.

I found out on Sunday evening when I landed at Heathrow airport and turned my phone on. One of my friends told me on Blackberry messenger. I stood dumbfounded in front of the luggage carousel re-reading every word in disbelief. Once my mind finally registered what was going on, I called my Mum to tell her and she too was saddened by the news.

The last time I saw Gil, he was a funny, cheeky, happy child. Many years passed and he matured into a man, and although I never knew him as a young adult, the impression he made on me as a child, was enough to leave me visibly disturbed from that moment at the airport until now.

Those of you who read my blog regularly will know that over the past few months a number of people in my life have passed away. But Gil is the youngest of them all, and possible the most full of promise with so much still to give.

It was a beautiful service made even more touching by the fact that the Rabi knew Gil and his family well. The same words that the Rabi had read to Gil at his Bar Mitzvah, he read again at his funeral and they summed him up perfectly. The number of people who turned up from far and wide to pay their last respects and say a final farewell is a testament to how truly loved he is and loosing him will leave a gaping hole in the lives of those who knew him.

Death, sadly is a part of life but we must take solace in that fact that (dependant on what you believe in) the souls of the faithfully departed are now at peace. Gil will live forever in the hearts and minds of his friends and loved ones.

To his family...one of the nicest and friendliest families I've met in fact:

Aba, Annette, Susie, Ben, Nadav and Maya...I wish you all long life.

May he rest in perfect Shalom; Peace.

To live in hearts we leave behind

Is not to die.

- Thomas Campbell

How Far?

2010-04-26T11:03:00.000+01:00

I remember the first time someone asked me “how far?” I was 13/14 years old and my answer was, (somewhat understandably), “how far is what?” Immediately following my response, everyone within earshot began to laugh at me. Needless to say, this was not an experience I recall fondly.

‘How far’ is a way of saying ‘how are you?’ or ‘what’s up?’ in Nigerian Pidgin English. Clearly I did not know this at the time, hence my reply. It’s amazing how a word or phrase can have so many different meanings and connotations depending on which country you happen to be in or language you happen to be speaking.

In case it wasn’t obvious, I’m still away (in Nigeria) and last week I got into a conversation with my cousin and his friends about approaching girls. The difference in technique amused me so I decided to share a little anecdote with them.

I told them that at one stage in my life (for reasons still unbeknown to me) I used to have guys stop me in the street and say: “wagwan Princess, ya looking buff still. Can I get ya number?” The first time this happened I was bemused, but as time went on, I’d politely decline and continue along my merry little way. My cousin and his friends found this approach baffling yet hilarious.

[*Bear with me, there is a link between my initial point and this story*]

One night when we were driving back from a party, one of my cousins friends (who’d had one too many drinks might I add), wound down his window and shouted: “watagwan buff-dy. Can I get a blowj*b!”

[Note: we were driving through the red light district so asking a scantily clad woman standing on the curb in the early hours of the morning for a sexual favour wasn’t so out of the ordinary. But I digress]

The guy’s drunken, crass, misinterpretation of the phrase I had relayed earlier made me laugh so much that I almost cried. Everyone else found it amusing to and now referring to a good looking girl as ‘buffdy’ has sort of stuck and I have subsequently kept hearing them all using it. I suppose that’s how new slang is made? Someone has an eureka moment or slip of the tongue and it either catches on or it doesn’t.

There is no real point to this post except to share some of the observations I have made on my trip. There are a number but my access to the internet is limited and I have so many things to do online and little time to complete it all in.

If anyone has any similar words or phrases that can be easily misinterpreted or misunderstood as soon as you stray from home then please feel free to share!

**I actually just got back but wrote this last week and wasn't able to upload it. I'd still like to know your examples though!**

The Flight

2010-04-22T08:21:00.000+01:00

Yesterday my Facebook status read as follows:

Assumpta Just had what some (i.e. her fellow passengers) would call a near death experience, but she refers to as severe weather/turbulence. Definitely a blog worthy experience!

It was basically a reflection of what had happened to me earlier that day. I boarded a plane for a domestic flight that was only meant to take 50mintues. However, the trip was not as straight forward as everyone had anticipated.

Just over half way through the journey, we flew straight into the path of a thunderstorm which caused the plane to drop a few feet. It scared the be-Jesus out of most of my fellow passengers and those who had somehow managed to nod off in the uncomfortable seats were woken up with a jolt.

As soon as the plane began to tremble, every would-be Pastor on board began uttering prayers that ranged from a mummer to a stadium filling shout. Those people who weren’t scared initially definitely would have been after hearing a woman screaming “the blood of Jesus, the blood of Jesus, THE BLOOD OF JESUS!’ and praying that the Lord “spare us”.

The lady next to her started covering herself in holy water (who carries holy water around in their purse by the way?) and all of this was accompanied by another woman at the back of the plane speaking in tongues.

What was my reaction to all of this I hear you ask? Well, I laughed. Strange I know but I found the whole scenario highly amusing and I had to fight back tears as the people around me wondered what I found so funny. (luckily, my amusement rubbed off on the man next to me and he laughed too).

While people gripped armrests for dear life and prepared to meet their maker, I eventually composed myself and then continued to read my book. My cousin (who was sitting in front of me) turned to ask if I was okay. I calmly looked at him and said: “I’m fine because I know that I’m not going to die today.”

I know that that’s a pretty strange thing to say considering no one really knows when or how they’re going to die but something came over me and I was perfectly fine. Call it blind faith or call it ignorance but either way it paid off. I arrived at my destination safely and all was well.

As with most Nigerian flights, as soon as the plane landed the passengers clapped. But, this time the clapping when on for longer than usual and people actually started to sing! The woman who shouted “the blood of Jesus” and scared the living daylights out of everyone with her shouting, then made an announcement.

She suggested that we should all donate some money to a charity (as a thank you for our lives being spared) and that a woman who had volunteered to collect said money could be found at the front. Now I’m all for giving to charity and I’m thankful for the gift of life but come on!

If we were to work to her logic then we should be giving to charity everyday because each morning that we wake up is a blessing and thus we should be grateful. My cousin agreed with me and suggested that I should go and share my thoughts with the lady. I chickened out and refrained because she was rather stern looking and very big and looked like she could sit on me and crush me so I kept quiet.

Anyway, the experience was a real eye opener in terms of seeing how people deal with fear. Blind panic is really not the way forward and only scares others around you – but I suppose such people have little control over their emotions in certain situations.

What would you do?

'Home'

2010-04-12T11:01:00.000+01:00

Hey there!!

I'm not in the UK so there's no picture for once! That's the problem with being in a different country to that which you're used to - internet services are never the same! The prospect of trying to find and then upload one is not appealing to me right now and my time is running out on a very slow computer so I may as well get on with it.

Anyway...in case you hadn't guessed form the title, I'm 'home'! I say 'home' but I mean home in terms of my heritage as opposed to the UK where I live. I haven't been here long but it's already been an interesting trip - slow moving at times (or rather, easy going) but cool nonetheless.

I landed and it was 26 degrees outside and yet the airport had no (functional) air-conditioning - just some aging, useless fans. First thing that sprang to mind? T.I.A. Also known as: This Is Africa. I think that's going to be my phrase for the holiday because every time something happens, that's what I say with a smile.

It never ceases to amaze me how non-African people I speak to view the Continent. They either see it in one of two ways: 1. As a beautiful country steeped in rich culture, food, music, history etc etc, or 2. A corrupt, poverty stricken, God forsaken, disease riddled place.

Now I'm no fantasist. I am all to aware that Africa is all of these things in varying degrees depending on which country you are in and which part of said country (north, south, east or west). However, something that many people fail to realise (that REALLY irks me) is the fact that 'Africa' is a CONTINENT and NOT a country. So when I hear/read people say "I'm going to Africa", I make a point of asking where specifically - because we can't all be lumped into one place.

Such statements to me are lazy and/or ignorant. But sadly, I fear I was guilty of a similar ignorance yesterday evening. I went to the cinema with my cousin and his friends and when we walked into the shopping center I was wowing at every turn simply because I was shocked to see that it had a KFC and a Nando's! [I'm talking about Nigeria by the way].

I was so shocked that I borrowed one of my friends phones to put it as my Facebook status and unsurprisingly many of my friends comments and echoed my surprise. However, the friends that I was with did not share my excitement. They probably thought I was being pretty ridiculous and on reflection I suppose I was. People have many misconceptions about the different countries in Africa and on reflection, I suppose I jumped on that badwagon.

I'll be the first to let you know that I come from a pretty corrupt country, but I can't help but love it. So next time you think about 'Africa'...please think past the clips of starving children you see on TV. There's so much more to it than meets the eye!

Until my next post.

T.I.A!!

Na By Force? It Seems So!

2010-04-06T14:03:00.000+01:00

!!NEWS FLASH!!

I know I only posted 'Na By Force' earlier today but this had to be written whilst fresh in my mind! This is an update from 'Love Is'. To fully understand what I'm talking about in this post, I suggest reading it here if you haven't already.

True to her word, Friend 2 flew back to America to see her 'boyfriend'! I say boyfriend but in all fairness he's her ex but she's still clinging on for dear life. Am I the only one who'd like to know if this guys kisses have cocaine-like qualities?! Does she need a GP to prescribe a course of methadone because I know some GP's and Pharmacists who will happily oblige!

Those of you who were rooting for her will be sad to know that said girl did not manage to stay in the house of her imaginary boyfriend and I assume that she is staying in a hotel alone. It's bad enough that he doesn't answer her phone calls from the UK but she's probably only a short drive away and yet he still chooses to ignore her. What does the guy need to do?! Tattoo the words "I don't want you" to his forehead, or better still, hers! Insanity.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, Friend 2 somehow discovered that her ex is now living with his girlfriend! Yes, he has a new woman. Instead of her to take the hint and leave well alone, she telephoned my friend to ask what to do because she wanted to march up to his house and let him know exactly how she feels .

[Note: I have to give this girl props for persistence! Can you imagine someone loving you enough to go through all of this madness? But back to the point...]

My friends advice was that American women can be crazy so knocking on his door probably wasn't the best idea. Heck, most (NOT ALL) women can be crazy so forget what country you're in, just don't do it! Apart from the inevitable humiliation she could suffer, I think it best to avoid all scenario's that may potentially lead to a beat down, stint in a cell for harassment or creating/adding to your criminal record! But maybe that's just me?

This imagined relationship is like a parking meter. Friend 2 has sadly invested what she believes to be all of her change in the meter and now the money is spent and time is up, she isn't ready to drive on and has no idea what to do? FYI: If she doesn't put her car (heart) into gear, a parking attendant (outside of this analogy, the police) will gladly tow her car away (aka haul her ass to jail for stalking) and if they don't get her, vandals (aka his new and quite possibly crazy girlfriend) will give her car the ass whopping or tongue lashing of its life!

My suggestion: 'cry me a river, build me a bridge and GET OVER IT!'. Slightly callous I know and easier said than done but her behaviour is ridiculous and borderline stalkerish! If I was the new girlfriend, I wouldn't appreciate my man's ex girlfriend coming to knock on our door and confess her undying love long after they broke up. This is not the movies and sadly life does not always imitate art. This is not the latest RomCom and thus her situation is not bound to end happily ever after - at least not with this man.

Good people of the cyber world, what say you on this scenario? Are her actions sweet and worthy of approval or should her friends steal her passport and hide it until she gets over this mess?

[I know which one I'm leaning towards! I eagerly await your comments.]

'Na By Force?

2010-04-06T10:18:00.001+01:00

The Nigerian in me took over when it came to composing a title for this piece so apologies to my non-Nigerian readers! Such a statement ('na by force') is usually made when referring to someone who is trying really hard, almost forcibly and disproportionately to the persuasion needed, to get you to do something. Thus making you wonder if it's really appropriate? Using a sledge hammer to crack a nut is wholly unnecessary and would warrent the use of 'na by force'.

[NOTE: It has varying contextual uses...this is just one example.]

The phrase sprang to mind after leaving a tutorial with my classmate and remembering the time we got lost in our building looking for our class. I say lost - we weren't lost - the class had moved rooms and due to an over-zealous man trying to repatriate us (yes REPATRIATE), we didn't see where they went when they left our present room!

The whole situation was so surreal. I walked up to my friend as we waited outside of our lecture room and found her talking to a fellow postgrad student - although he was a lot older than both of us. He looked at me, and instead of saying hello as one would usually do when you meet someone new, he said, somewhat accusatorially "I bet she's Nigerian too. You are aren't you?". A little stunned I said hello and then replied that I was. He was able to tell me the exact state that I'm from (how, I have no idea because people never get it right as it's not one of the more common one's) but nonetheless, he managed it.

[Sidebar: To the Nigerian/African readers: is it me or can elders from your Country always correctly guess where you're from. I don't know whether it's a 6th sense or juju? Either way it's intriguing!]

Back to the point. I wondered what type of conversation I had stumbled on and wished I hadn't stopped. I almost walked away but the pleading glances from my friend kept me there as I didn't want to leave her alone with this man. He proceeded in giving us a rather forceful lecture about why we should go 'home' when we've finished studying and help in re-building it and restoring it to its former glory.

The way this man spoke to us agitated me enormously and under usual circumstances I would have let him say is piece and walked away but I replied to his comments. Knowing the reaction I would get, I informed him that I was 'home' and had no intention of returning to Nigeria on a permanent basis unless I was doing so to live in Abuja! [aka the nicest/most modern part of the country]

This riled the guy up and he launched into a mind-numbing soliloquy saying we knew nothing about our country and that it was perfectly safe. Safe?! I love Nigeria and my heritage but we all watch the news and I'm aware of what goes on there from my cousins and friends in the country! (Holiday's are fine but living there is another story entirely). Feeling like fanning the flames further I asked him why he was here if our country was so 'safe' and I honestly think he wanted to lynch me! To cut a long story short...we had to agree to disagree and my friend and I eventually left to find our class.

Recalling that story made me think of all of the things people try to force others into; friendships, relationships, charity work fighting for a 'good' cause, helping your people out back 'home' etc... (I always thought home was where the heart is but maybe I was wrong?) At the end of the day, you can lead a horse to water but you cannot make it drink! There are a number of things I want to do with my life - making a difference and helping people is one of them. But NOT when I'm being coaxed into it. I will do so of my own accord.

The same thing applies to friendships and relationships. You can't force someone to be your friend or to be in a relationship with you - trust me I know. Regardless of their words, their actions should speak - no, scream louder. So if someone's telling you they care but don't answer your calls or texts - in most circumstances I'd say take the hint because they were lying. And if they weren't then they're selfish which is just as bad I suppose?

So I put it to you, because I'd like to know your thoughts on the subject:

'Na by force?

Gold Digger

2010-04-04T04:11:00.000+01:00

GOLD DIGGER:

"When I was younger I believed in unconditional love. I dated guys with empty pockets, stingy dudes who would rather pretend to be broke than loan their mother 10 bucks. But it didn’t matter to me. Everything I have ever wanted, I have bought with my own money. So whether a guy spent money on me or not, had a good car or not, or lived with his parents at the age of 30, I wasn’t bothered. Instead I believed in ‘building with my man’. The naïve little girl in me actually believed that ‘if you are with a man when he has nothing, he will always remember you when he has something’. (HOW WRONG I WAS)

Fast forward a couple of years and throw in the speed bumps and punches of life, and I am a completely different person. Well maybe not totally different, just wiser and smarter and I am not ashamed to say so. Nowadays before I date a guy he must pass the financial acid test. Good job, good car, nice flat, generous with dollops of ambition and drive! Gone are the days were I was fasting and praying for a man to buy his first car only for him to put another woman in the front seat, or help him get a house only for another to occupy his bed, Ah ah, my mother didn’t raise no fool!

I will fast and pray with you for that promotion, while the AC of your current car is blowing me in the face. I will get up and seek the Lord early in the morning for his salary increase when I have recovered from our romantic getaway in Dubai or Obudu cattle ranch. I will cook the best tasting Egusi soup known to man while I am in his fully fitted kitchen and furnished home. I will hold his hand through all of life’s ups and downs while he treats me like the princess I deserve to be. And if all this makes me a gold digger, then I’ll say it loud and hard, I am digging for gold and I’m proud."

Okay so I didn’t write the piece above as I'm sure you probably guessed. It was sent to me on Blackberry messenger a few weeks ago and it really got me thinking because it is so true and oh so relevant to my life! Well, for the most part.

I remember being that naïve when I was younger and I used to say all the time that "anything I wanted I could get for myself". But this mentality is what resulted in me forking out vast sums of money for a boy who only went and became the person he should have been for me, for someone else.

Now I’m all for equal opportunity when dating but I can't understand why people [I say people because I mean both women and men] aren't more selective when choosing someone? I'm not sure I would go as far as the financial litmus test that the author of the piece above is suggesting, but there are certain standards that we must all set for ourselves and stick to.

For example, I plan to get somewhere in life and am pretty ambitious, so being with a man whose sole ambition in life is to get to the next level of whatever computer game takes his fancy at that particular moment would not be for me. Simple.

I had lunch with one of my friends a week ago and she was telling me about one of her friends who has a good job, her own car and lives alone. Basically, she’s independent and doing well for herself. Her boyfriend on the other hand does nothing. Yes you read correctly. Nothing at all. He still lives at home with his mother and expects her to come and stay at his mothers house all the time rather than going to her's.

I'm not sure about you but this whole scenario baffled me?! Thankfully most of the guys I know have more respect for themselves than that - as do the women but I would really love to know what attracts someone [male or female] to another person who clearly isn't what you want, but you're happy to carry on anyway? Call it love, lust or just plain stupidity but if anyone has the answer to this then I'd really love to know.

In the mean time, do you agree with what the person above said? Whether you're male or female, is it acceptable and does it make sense to be a gold digger in the sense that she means?

P.S. Happy Easter! x

Poetry Performance

2010-03-22T18:48:00.000Z

For those of you who have been following my blog for a while, you'll already know that I'm a big fan of poetry. Not just reading and listening to it, but writing my own and now (slowly but surely) performing it! I've been writing poems since I was little but was always too shy to perform. But I made a decision that 2010 would be the time for me to step out of my comfort zone and share my words with the world!

My first 'performance', if you can indeed call it that, took place at an open mic night in January -you can watch here. I finally had my second performance last week for at the BL ACS variety show fundraiser for Haiti. It went quite well and I got a lot of positive feedback so thank you to everyone who said nice/constructive thing.

I'm pretty critical of myself so on my way home from the event I watched the recording in order to see where I could make improvements for the next time! Although I was pretty nervous, I'm glad I was able to perform almost exactly as I wanted to. The highlight of the experience for me was when I uploaded the video to Facebook and my Dad watched it and clicked "like" (yes my Father is one of my Facebook friends! lol). I wrote on his wall and thanked him and he said that I did a good job and he's really proud of me. Considering the somewhat crappy year I've had so far, that brief moment was by far the best feeling of 2010.

So...without further ado...he's my performance. Whether you like or dislike it, let me know what you think. The three poems I performed (in order) are called: 'To you, For you, With you', 'The Music And You' and finally 'Try Your Luck'. Enjoy!

Movie Madness

2010-03-11T17:25:00.000Z

Hello All!

I apologise for the hiatus. It's been a strange couple of weeks to say the least. Partial explanation can be seen at the end of my previous post here. As a result of my lack of new blogs, you may just get an influx over the next week but we'll see how I get on.

Okay so I usually only write about my opinions and my everyday life/experiences but seeing as writing is my passion, and I love movies, I figured I may as well write reviews on things I watch. If it really doesn't go that well that I won't subject you to more and this shall be my first and last! But we'll see.

A couple of weeks ago I went to the cinema to see Precious. But this was no ordinary cinema trip for me because *drum roll please* I went ALONE! Yes...alone. Now some of you are probably gasping whilst the rest of you are thinking "err...right? Big deal!". I know one or two people who like going alone (all men might I add), but I've never been and I got tired of waiting on friends to be ready to see stuff with me or having to travel to a central point so figured I'd go alone.

It was a really strange yet peaceful and calming experience. I can't say that the film I chose to watch was all that calming - in fact it was pretty harrowing but more about that later. As I said before, a lot of my male friends already go to the cinema alone but I'd just like to say for the women who are considering going it alone, in the words of Nike "Just Do It!". I'd highly recommend it. Throw caution to the wind, ignore the pitying side glances and spend a little time with you, yourself and you!

Back to the matter at hand, as I stated above, I saw the movie Precious. It's set in Harlem and is about an overweight teenage girl who is pregnant with her second child. She gets invited to join an alternative school in a bid to turn her life around. This movie offers a candid insight into just how dysfunctional/harsh/soul destroying/evil that some people's upbringings can be. After watching it, my problems (the one's I had escaped to the cinema to get away from) seemed to pale in comparison to wider world issues.

As I walked back to my car and eventually drove home, I couldn't stop thinking about all of the issues in the world (of varying degrees of seriousness) that people have to deal with alone. You will never really know what lies behind someone's smile - I know a lot of people have no idea what goes on in my head half the time but that's really out of choice. But suffering in silence is not fun.

I know you can't force someone to tell you what's on their mind, but its always good to make yourself approachable so that they know when they're ready to speak about what's in their heart or on their mind, they have someone to go to.

I once had a friend whose change in behaviour started to worry me so I called her frequently just to let her know that I cared and was there. It wasn't until a couple of years later that she told me she'd intended on killing herself. She said my calls and texts stopped her. Never underestimate the value of sharing a little bit of your time with others. It may mean little or nothing to you, but the world to them.

For those of you who haven't seen it, I suggest going to watch Precious. I plan on reading the book PUSH (that's what the movie was based on). Maybe I'll let you know what I think of it if you're interested? Enjoy the rest of your week.

Life is hard. Life is short. Life is painful. Life is rich. Life is....Precious.

Misunderstood

2010-03-09T07:39:00.001Z

A few days ago I was told by an annoying blast from the past that I’m “not a straightforward person”. It sort of made me laugh because a lot of my friends think I can be pretty direct (I’d say my blog is a good example this). Also, I know that at certain times (usually when people are being ignorant or annoying), I can be pretty frank. So what isn’t straight forward about that?

The whole situation got my thinking how amazing it is that people who made incorrect generalisations about you at a time when they were part of your life (‘were’ being the operative word), hold on to them and still believe the same premise to be correct years later.

Wrong.

Although some ill-fated people stay the same with the passing of time and perform the same tasks in the vain hope of getting different results or worse still, give up altogether. I am not one of those people.

Is their belief arrogance or sheer stupidity? I’m inclined to say both. I really cannot stand people with an over-inflated sense of self importance. I don’t blame this person though. They’ve had a number of people brown-nosing for a very long time and sadly believe their own misrepresented hype. I think it starts with big fish little pond syndrome – but that’s another post entirely!

I’m all for striving for greatness (as you can see here) but those who came from nothing and are in the process of making something of their lives (as per the aforementioned blast from the past), but lose their humility along the way, lose with it my respect.

Consistently berating me for an erroneous (back-dated) assumption is a sure fire way to bring out the not-so-nice side of me. I don’t feel the need to remind this person of their previous shortcomings and their earlier lack of faith in themselves, correct etiquette, social graces, academic [not worldly] intellect, sense of style, cleanliness (at times)...the list goes on.

This could quickly and easily turn into a character assassination but it would just be a waste of my words, not to mention being childish. Instead I shall try to find the lesson in the ignorance. What prompted the statement was my suggestion at a business venture. The egotism displayed by some when you’re simply trying to suggest something that would benefit you both is unreal – but I’m sure we have all experienced this at some point, and if you haven’t, you surely will.

But alas, apart from our ages and personal circumstances, not much has changed in the way of this person’s thinking (particularly towards me). Hence their insinuation that a business relationship would be difficult because relations between us have been strained for a number of years.

I say that it’s time to grow up. I think I entertained this person’s conceitedness for the last time and will no longer outstretch my hand as a peace offering. I’ve had one too many fingers bitten off by them and I must say that I’m quite partial to my pinky! Also, I gave up stupidity for lent (see here), so why I engaged in conversation in the first place is beyond me!

I’ve noticed that the pursuit of money (legally or otherwise) has become so many people’s singular focus because they are under the impression that financial autonomy will absolve them of their past sins and give them the right to feel superior to others. Well, for the record, it doesn’t necessarily work that way. Such people should know that you can buy stuff, but you cannot buy class.

***************************************************

At this point I took a break from writing this post and intended to return to wrap it up and end with a question as I usually do. However, I found out that one of my friends died. Aged 23. Prior to her death a family member died a week and a half ago and in the time it finally took me to finish this, my great-uncle died yesterday – which also happened to be my father’s birthday.

As you can imagine, the trivialities of my life suddenly paled in comparison. 3 weeks, 3 deaths. 5 months, 5 deaths. What do you say to that? Nothing I suppose. Only things one can do in such situations are pray, grieve and console. Not sure I’ve done much of either three but we’ll see as time goes on.

As annoying as the person that inspired this post is, my annoyance was short lived because they mean little or nothing to me or my life. In the grand scheme of things, petty situations mean little or nothing. Keeping malice and bearing grudges usually affects you more than the person you dislike so why bother?

Next time someone annoys you, albeit intentionally or otherwise, breath, stretch, shake and let it go. Life’s too short.

R.I.P TO MY LOVED ONES

Love -- is anterior to Life –
Posterior -- to Death –
Initial of Creation, and
The Exponent of Earth –
- Emily Dickinson

Life

2010-03-04T10:02:00.001Z

"Life is like a box of chocolates... you never know what you're gonna get"

- Forrest Gump (Tom Hanks) 1994

I was 8 years old when Forrest Gump was first released in 1994. However, I didn't actually get to see it (for obvious reasons), until a few years later when I was a little older. I remember watching it with my Dad on one of our movie days.

[Aside: Saturday’s spent choosing and then watching films with my father are some of the fondest memories from my childhood]

Apart from squirming and feeling visibly uncomfortable during the awkward sex scenes, I enjoyed the film as a whole. The thing that stood out in my mind (apart from Bubba's list of the different types of shrimp dishes that he knew/could make), was the quote above.

I remember thinking that the line was pretty profound but in my mind it was fatally flawed. You see the word precocious was probably a good way of describing me as a child - or so I'm told. Unlike most, I often didn't take the world at face value and accept it for what it was.

My little mind went into overdrive and my response to the line was:

"If life really is like a box of chocolates then you do know what you're gonna get because chocolate boxes come with the little cards that tell you what each one is. Like Quality Street."

All of this followed by a pensive yet confused expression from my father, which I in turn mirrored. My Dad, knowing better than to entertain my questioning, simply smiled and commended me on such a clever observation. And then he walked away (to deal with more important things I suppose) leaving me with this thought.

Likening life to a box of chocolates is both apt yet defective. On one hand, our daily experiences are often a mix of colours (racial diversity), flavours (food and drink), textures (sensory and emotional experiences) etc etc. All of which we encounter somewhat randomly. Some are agreeable experiences and to our liking. Others can leave a sour taste in your mouth and make you feel as though you never want to try that particular 'chocolate' again.

On the other hand, you can exercise caution and choose what colours, flavours and textures to let into your life by consulting the chocolate index card. Certain 'chocolates' that you know (or think) that you will not like, you can stay away from. And thus a crisis can be averted. Yes this could be considered a boring and uneventful way to live but it keeps one from limiting or avoiding nasty surprises.

Now that I've grown up (clearly not physically as my height is akin that of a hobbit), I've been thinking about life a lot more in recent years - even more so in recent weeks and days. I have come to the conclusion (at least for now) that:

"life is indeed like a box of chocolates...because you never know what you're gonna get, and even when you do, it may not always be to your taste but you just have to make a choice."

You can either choose to stick with it, savour the taste/chew quickly and swallow anyway. Or spit and give up without trying.

According to the writers of The X-Files:

"Life... is like a box of chocolates - a cheap, thoughtless, perfunctory gift that no one ever asks for, un-returnable because all you get back is another box of chocolates. So, you're stuck with mostly un-definable whipped mint crap, mindlessly wolfed down when there's nothing else to eat while you're watching the game. Sure, once is a while you get a peanut butter cup or an English toffee but it's gone too fast and the taste is fleeting. In the end, you are left with nothing but broken bits filled with hardened jelly and teeth-shattering nuts, which, if you are desperate enough to eat, leaves nothing but an empty box of useless brown paper."

Although I found this to be quite a pessimistic view, it made me smile and some might agree with it, therefore I decided to share.

I'd really like to know though, (if in fact you agree with this analogy) how you want to treat the box of chocolates that is your life.

Are you going to stick or spit?

Love is...

2010-02-25T11:09:00.000Z

Given that it’s February is supposedly the most romantic month of the year, I figured I’d stick the subject of love.

As mentioned in my previous post, love is a word that is as intrinsic and overused in the vocabulary of society as leggings incorrectly being worn as trousers. Following ‘That Thing Called Love’, I had a conversation with one of my friends (Miss Understood) where she proceeded to tell me about two of her friends.

Miss Understoods friends tell her that she doesn’t know the meaning of the word love or what it is to be in love. No doubt you like me, were wondering why they would make such a sweeping statement? Well...they say this simply because Miss Understood does not approve of the relationships that they are in.

Now I’m well aware that no one needs approval from anyone when entering into a relationship (except maybe from their parents and whichever higher being or religious deity that they happen to subscribe to). But as a society increasingly driven by and constantly seeking the approval of our peers, her opinion matters enough for them to lash out with that scathing comment.

[Some of you will be quick to say that Miss M is simply ‘hating’ because she’s single and her friends are in relationships but trust me this is far from the case.]

Friend 1 is in a relationship with a man who cheated on her (supposedly once) and impregnated the other woman! Friend 1 is content to stay with this man and says she doesn’t mind raising another woman’s child because (you guessed it) “she loves him!”

Oh but the plot thickens. Her boyfriend is now living with his baby-mama because their child is a month old and the afore mentioned baby-mama “can’t cope on her own”. Oh and the piste de résistance: cast your minds back to Valentine’s day, Friend 1 was presented with an engagement ring by her boyfriend. She accepted it. *sigh*

Friend 2 is in a ‘relationship’ (and I use the term very loosely) with a man who won’t return her calls and only speaks to her when he feels like it. Confused? I was! The pair dated for 2 years but when her boyfriend was offered a job in America, he upped sticks, broke up with her and went to build a new life for himself.

Friend 2 is still holding on to a ‘relationship’ that has clearly ended. The few times that her ‘boyfriend’ has failed to check the caller ID and unwittingly answered the phone when she calls, her hope is renewed and she becomes convinced that he loves her and the spark is still there. She even flew to the States to see him at the beginning of the year but he made little or no time to see her. She wants to go back again in March! Why you ask, (yes you guessed it) because “she loves him”. But if the last trip wasn’t hint enough that he doesn’t love her then I don't know what is?

A man will always find a way to call or get in contact with you IF HE WANTS TO. No matter what lies he spins you or excuses he gives e.g. “I left my phone at home/Tim's house and conveniently lost the use of my arms so couldn’t email or Facebook you”. If he doesn't want to speak to you, he won’t. Simple. Trust me…I know.

Call me crazy but I’m inclined to join Miss Understood and jump on the bandwagon of disapproval. No situation or person is perfect but it saddens me that these women ‘love’ these men more than they love themselves. I love cake – actually carbs in general, but I love not being overweight more and thus I exercise restraint! To continue in a situation where you’re humiliated and constantly left feeling second best when you don’t have to (because neither of them is married) is ridiculous and crazy!

I guess they’ve just decided to be like Tiger’s wife Elin Nordegren and ‘Stand By Their Man’ as opposed to Cheryl Cole who decided that to ‘Fight For This Love’ may be a futile exercise. Secretly I think Cheryl Cole (who now wants to return to her toilet-attendant-assulting maiden name Tweedy) would like to stay with (supposedly) adulterous-Ash, but she loves her career and credibility more. And I think Elin wised up to the fact that if she sticks with Tiger a few more years and then divorces his serial-cheating-ass, she’ll get more in her divorce settlement. Cynical? Maybe. But that’s life.

Irrespective of feminism and the independent woman movement, I've realised that the things women continue to put up with will never cease to amaze me. Maybe it is love that keeps women in such dysfunctional relationships but I have a feeling it also has a lot to do with people’s fear of ending up alone coupled with being too lazy to find someone new and start again. Better the devil you know eh?

Women: What would you put up with?

Men: Would you respect or want to stay with a girl who let's you get away with shocking behaviour?

Lent

2010-02-18T09:55:00.000Z

Religion isn’t something that you’ll often (if ever) read about on my blog for numerous reasons that I feel no inclination to divulge at present. BUT self-righteous, condescending ‘Christians’ who are quick to forget what it was like to be ‘of the world’ do my head in.

You’re probably wondering where that revelation came from? No doubt some part of me that I have been repressing, or silencing in order to avoid a religious debate. That and the fact that there seem to be so many of this kind of ‘Christian’ around now - like it’s the latest fad or something? And, given this period of Holy time that the Christian calendar is about to enter into, and having been raised as a Christian, I thought it was as good a time as any to share.

The 16th of February was Shrove Tuesday, (Pancake Day to the masses) and it reminded me of my childhood and of the fact that Lent is fast approaching. When I was younger I used to give up trivial things such as sweets and chocolate for Lent.

As I got older, I remember it being an absolute revelation to me when the Priest (during his homily at Mass) said that we could give up actions or endeavour to do something more instead of simply giving up treats. If I recall correctly, that year I decided to try to pray more in conjunction with forgoing my excessive intake of E-numbers.

A few days ago one of my friends asked me what I was giving up for lent. It really got me thinking. I haven’t given up or tried to do anything for lent in over two years. As I sat pondering on what I could give up/do, it came to me...

Stupidity! I am giving up stupidity for lent.

I have a feeling a few of you may have laughed at my idea but I’m being serious. I am going to endeavour to give up tolerating stupid behaviour from those around me and more importantly from myself. I kid you not, when you sit and think about a lot of the ridiculous things that you’re subjected to or surrounded by on a weekly basis you’ll agree with me (and if you don’t, that’s okay).

Other people aside, my real focus is introspective. If I cease accepting stupidity from others then why tolerate or permit it from myself? Silly decisions that I make and realise are stupid at conception or fulfilment need to be eradicated - or cut down at the very least. Stupidly putting myself in the same situation and expecting different results is futile and only leads to frustration and disappointment. Especially when it involves another person because you can alter your actions but you have no control over theirs.

Now before you misunderstand me, I’m avoiding stupidity, not encouraging intolerance or ignorance. Someone may say something that you deem to be stupid but there is no need for rudeness and it’s always best to try to understand the logic behind other people’s comments. You wouldn’t like it if someone rubbished your ideas which is why I’ll be bearing that in mind. And if you find someone’s behaviour/words/actions that intolerable, just politely excuse yourself and remove yourself from a potentially volatile situation.

So...now that I’ve stepped off my soap box, those of you who partake:

What are you giving up and/or doing for lent?