Getting to know you, getting to know all about you...

I was internet surfing and I came across US Weekly's '25 things you don't know about' series. It was quite interesting so I thought I would do one for me. Now these are a mix of character traits, info on memorable events in my life and my likes and dislikes. Hope you enjoy reading. I have tried to be as honest and informative as possible -

1. I am shy. I hate being the centre of attention and I hate big public gatherings. But when I am in a setting in which I am comfortable I have the tendency to get loud and talk too much...I don't really like that about myself.
2. I hate shopping. The noise, the crowds, the decision making...hate hate hate.
3. I think I am very easy going. You may disagree but of course you will be wrong.
4. I am a people pleaser. I hate when anyone around me is uneasy or unhappy. Which means I also used to be a peace maker. I say used to be because I am consciously training myself to not give a damn.
5. My folks think I am harsh and unbending when it comes to family matters. I prefer to think of it as me being realistic and them as being soft easy touches. It is and has been my life-long mission to harden them. I am not succeeding.
6. I am cynical about most things and always expect to be disappointed especially by fellow human beings...they are fallible and most times stupid. I include myself in this observation. I have to my distress disappointed others. But I have grown up...I hope.
7. I hate stress in any form. Apart from it possibly causing a sickle crisis, I just hate being under any kind of pressure or strain. As a result I am extremely laid-back. It can be annoyingly translated by people to mean lazy. I hate this...but yes sometimes I am being lazy.
8. I hate honey, the smell and the taste. Stems from childhood trauma which involved using honey as a herbal cure for a persistent cough. Surprisingly I do not hate palm oil or sugar...which were also tried as a cure for the said cough. That was a rough couple of months...also led to a hatred of ginger ale which KK in his infinite 12 year old wisdom thought would eliminate the taste of the honey/palm oil and sugar.
9. I tire of things easily and need to switch it up constantly to keep interested. These include books (genres), tv shows, food, music and people.
10. I do not and have never understood the male psyche...despite mainly growing up amongst boys. What do women want...no my friend it should be WTF do men want??!? Forgive my language.
11. My favourite takeaway is chinese. Second is pizza. But I am not fond of cheese. This as you can imagine causes problems. 
12. I do not find it easy to make friends but I do find it easier to keep friends...that I choose to keep or that choose to be kept.
13. There is only one person in this entire world that I intensely dislike...note the use of the word intensely as there are a few that I merely dislike...I intensely dislike bffl's aunt, intensely.
14. I am spoilt...but not as spoilt as most people think...I hope
15. I absolutely positively dislike cooking, especially Nigerian food. I consider it to be punishment comparable with being on death row. I exaggerate slightly.
16. My favourite colour is blue, the turquoise shade of blue...But people think it's red because I like to wear red, I do this unintentionally. I am subconsciously drawn to red clothing, bright red. I will not accept responsibility for this, it is my subconscious.
17. I am a chronic list maker. It is a constant source of amusement for Mama and KK. I am bereft without my lists and I do not understand how people can function without lists. It is unnatural and in my opinion the main cause of all the chaos that exists in the world.
18. I like my own company. To be honest I enjoy it more than most others. This is a constant source of frustration for Mama and Ramsy. I am not anti-social, it is a family trait, we three get it from Big V.
19. I can be rude and bitchy. I am working on eliminating this part of my character...unless of course the situation calls for me to be rude and bitchy. I intend to use my discretion to make judgement calls.
20. I wanted to be a doctor when I was young...till an older family acquaintance laughed in my face when I mentioned it, I was about 7 years old. I decided then to be a caterer like Mama...till I watched Perry Mason and realised I was meant to be a lawyer...till I practised law and realised no I really don't.
21. As a child I had quite a temper...it is under control now. I also hated KK quite a bit...a lot actually and when the temper took over I chased him a few times with a knife...the bread knife I think. I am still unsure as to whether I really meant to stab him or I just wanted to scare him. Luckily he could run faster than I could so I never ever caught up with him. I usually just got tired of chasing and went to put the knife back...see 9 above. I should also mention that once I almost shot him with Big V's revolver. Luckily, for him, Mama was there and grabbed it from my hands. In my defence though this episode was not because of my childhood dislike of him but because we were playing cops and robbers (or for my Nigerian readers, police and thief) and I thought Big V's gun was KK's toy gun. Adults should really not leave dangerous things where children can reach!!! Also KK will state that this particular event happened the other way around i.e he pointed the gun at me...he will be lying.
22. My favourite childhood book was Journey to America by Sonia Levitin about a Jewish family's courageous and oft times dangerous journey from Nazi Germany to America told through the eyes of one of the young daughters. It was the book that helped me to understand that era of history and appreciate the freedom (somewhat) in the land I lived.  
23. I do not sing in public...ever!! I made a personal decision at the age of 9 for the good of the public. I wish my nuclear family would make similar decisions...except Lil V, his voice is passable.
24. My brain finds it hard to compute mathematical problems. It immediately shuts down at the sight of numbers, especially when mixed with letters. Consequently I do not know the difference between algebra and geometry and any other branch of maths....I am content not knowing.
25. I am not as grumpy as you may conclude after reading this. I am a pocketful of sunshine...I truly am...most days :-)

Title's from The King & I...not a movie I really liked to be honest.


Happy holidays xx

Some people are settling down, some people are settling, and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies...

I am a single thirtysomething year old female of Nigerian heritage.

If you are Nigerian or you have knowledge of the African culture then you know that my clan are way past the 'waiting and hoping' stage and are now at the 'fasting/praying/casting out the demon' stage with respect to my singledom...I jest I jest...well a little :)

But it is quite difficult for them to understand why I am still single, they just can't get it. I mean lets examine me for a second. I have faults like everyone else, such as my vocal distaste and reluctance to personally embark on any and all culinary endeavours, my continuous search for that seemingly elusive maternal instinct...but I am -

• reasonably pretty (a few aesthetic flaws but this is neither the time nor the place), 
• educated, 
• able to hold down a job, 
• able to participate in most discussions (just make sure sports, science and art are not part of those discussions), 
• yet to be convicted of any crime (haha), and 
• most days quite kind, generous, compassionate and loving. 

So what's the problem. If you ask me, absolutely nothing...apart from the men out there being idiots and not recognising the treasure, absolute treasure, that is URO!!! 

But jokes aside, I really don't see the problem except maybe that I don't want to be rushed and locked down into something that may quite possibly make me unhappy for life. Not that I think all marriages are unhappy, I mean Mama and Big V are clocking 42 years next year. But, it's that deciding to be with this one person forever....forever...that's like forever!!!

Anyone who know's me knows that I am absolutely crap at making decisions. I remember crying on the phone, hysterically I might add, to bffl at the start of my masters because I just couldn't make the decision between company law, corporate tax, and I forget the last module.*** Poor girl is so used to my quirks that she just patiently listened, threw in a couple of dear dears and waited me out. 

So how does one expect me to make such a monumental life decision like who to marry???

(I say this like I have 10 dudes right now anxiously waiting on an answer...haa! Don't even have one teehee)

But back to my clan. They do not believe in my inability to make decisions as the cause of this state of singledom, but rather in what they seem to think is my desire to wait for 'Mr Perfect'. I don't know how many times I've been told by well meaning clan members to lower my standards as Mr Perfect does not exist, and besides it's not like I am perfect (say what? That is quite frankly debatable...in my opinion).

Truth be told I didn't even know I had specific standards, well apart from the normal standards everyone else has...responsible, able to hold a job, carry a conversation, can be taken out in public without me having to wear a balaclava etc etc etc...but specific standards that are peculiar to me, nope didn't realise I had them...well erm *cough* wait just one minute...erm, does wanting to be attracted to and have chemistry with the person count as a standard specific to me? I mean I know I don't have a very very strong maternal instinct but I would like to be fruitful and multiply at least once so attraction counts, yes?

Hmmmm, maybe that's where the standards come in, maybe according to my clan, attraction is a 'meh' requirement. I know the mention of butterflies and love may, and has resulted in a 'stupid girl who knows nothing' glare. What could I possibly know about love right? What's love got to do with it? What's love but a good old fashioned notion? What's love but a second hand emotion (seriously Ms Turner, what does that mean?). 

You know who I blame...the west, that darned western education! Seriously did Ovlaria have butterflies for Chief Zebrudaya? Were any of Okonkwo's three wives in love with him? No and No/No/No!!

Disney's hands are also very dirty regarding this matter of love and butterflies. Beauty, Snow and most especially Cinderella need to take some of the blame. That whole Prince Charming lark. Prince Charming does not exist. Prince Charming does not exist. Prince Charming does not exist. Prince Charming does not exist. Prince Charming does not exist.

But wouldn't it be absolutely fantastic if he did, like really fantastic *sigh*

I kid I kid. 

I honestly believe marriage is a compromise between love, friendship and common goals and beliefs. 

Disclaimer - I may be wrong as I am not in the institution and I am constantly being smugly told by married friends, yes smugly and condescendingly for that matter, that you don't know what it's like till you get married. 

But from an outside observers point of view, here's my take. I don't think love/attraction/butterflies is enough to sustain a marriage because at some point those butterflies settle down and that I think is where friendship comes in because friendship entails qualities like respect, compassion, interest etc...add common goals and beliefs to that, i.e the idea you choose someone who wants the same things you do and will work hard with you to get them, then maybe just maybe it'll work.

If I find someone (or someone finds me) that I think I can have that with, then I'll 'settle down'...and finally allow my clan to get off their knees and go eat something already...and if I don't find or I'm not found, well then...c'est la vie.

***If you are curious, the module I ended up choosing was Alternative Dispute Resolution, which I then dropped after two weeks for Commercial Arbitration :)

Quote's from Sex & The City...Carrie Bradshaw.

Phyllodes - to wallow or not to wallow?

I got some news about a health setback yesterday. And that led me to thinking about how we deal with upsetting news. Is there a set procedure for how one is meant to deal with it? I ask because I have realised in the last day that I'm not sure how to deal with it, I'm actually not sure if I have ever known how to deal with it. A part of me would like to wallow but then there's the practical side of me that knows it's just a setback, not life threatening, not the end of the world so why the heck am I wallowing, after all "there are people going through worse in the world". I like to call that latter side of me the 'Big V' effect, he of the "don't you think you have taken enough painkillers" mind over matter statements when I'm slapbang in the middle of a crisis....I'm sure every sickler would agree with me, there is no such thing as enough painkillers when you're having a crisis, in fact we tend to become our own pharmacists as experience has taught us what to take, when, how often and what to mix with what...please don't try this at home, it takes at least 20 years of pain to become this skilled :)

But I digress, dealing with upsetting news is the topic at hand. So I informed 2 people yesterday about the upcoming surgery, Mama and bffl. And it was interesting to see how they dealt with it. Mama of course engaged her direct lines, one to God to 'handle the situation', the other to Cuz S to 'handle me'. Unfortunately I was at a Christmas Carol Service in the eve (St Martin in the Fields, go next year if you can...so good) so I missed the call that would have 'handled me'. I await it as I'm curious to see how she does it, I predict the practical approach. But she did pass the news on to KK who sent a text (cheapo) telling me to not worry, God is in control etc etc etc, you know those kind of messages. Now bffl on the other hand wanted to know 'how I was doing', gotta love my bestie, I feel like she hated asking the question but felt she had to as my bestie and the keeper of the knowledge of my emotions. Trust me if Cuz S doesn't handle me to Mama's satisfaction, her 3rd call will be to bffl so the poor girl is just getting herself ready.

So how am I doing? I haven't the foggiest idea, I know I'm upset at the frustrating nature of the setback and the uncertainty of the ailment and the inability of the medical professionals to give any guarantees, I have been here before...twice...and according to them they can't guarantee I won't be back here again. That.is.annoying!!!! And the fact that surgery for me as a sickler is a whole tedious process of exchange transfusions which I absolutely positively detest.

But like I said, in the greater scheme of life it's not the end of the world. So if I have to pick one, I'll go with I'm doing good for now, it is after all the Christmas season.

Well hello there Mister...

I fell in love last night. Deeply, completely, absolutely in love...with the bass.

Yes with the bass.

As you can probably tell by now I like music but I'm not a connoisseur. I'll listen to absolutely anything at least once and if I like it I like it. Most times, the lyrics are the deciding factor for me so it stands to reason that I'm not too keen on genre's like Classical or Jazz, though through osmosis I have listened to and liked a few jazz songs (thanks Big V and KK).  Which is why I was open to a friend's suggestion that we go to Ronnie Scotts last night...it's a jazz club in Soho.

That is where I fell in love...with the bass...or as he is known to me now, Mr Bass. That deep throbbing sound that you feel more than hear beneath the music, very smooth, very steady, very understated. I think in music we are so focused on the guitar, the piano, the drums, we tend to ignore Mr Bass, oh we hear him but we don't really pay attention to him. Like my Nigerian people will say, we are focused on the effizy (the glitter, the sparkle) we ignore the heart. And that's what I feel Mr Bass is, the heart of the music, the foundation. He's not worried about being ignored, he's secure in his importance in the music, he knows he's the pulse, he's the base for the others, he's pulling them together. I think we also tend to ignore him because when we do hear him, he sounds like he's saying the same thing over and over again but the thing is, if we paid attention to him, we'd realise that he does this for our pleasure and to aid his fellow instruments and that every once in a while he has the ability to go off track and surprise us.

Mr Bass has given me a new appreciation for music, a new way to listen to music. Though I am discovering, in the short few hours since last night, that he sounds a bit different when he is electric. I think for now I prefer him as the double bass and especially in Jazz music. And as what I feel for him is deep, the everlasting kind of love, it seems my education in Jazz music has begun.

Here are two clips that highlight my new friend. The first is an instrumental of Cry Me a River (I like the Julie London version if you want to hear a non-instrumental version), the piano is fantastic I know but you can hear Ray Brown on the bass and he is good...

The next clip is Curtis Mayfield's Pusherman, now I'm not generally a fan of Funk but I have always liked this song because it just makes me want to get up and move. Listening to it again, I realised part of the reason I'm compelled to move is Mr Bass, he's there right from the start of the song...enjoy.

 

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back so shake him off...

Just a quick drive by to highlight my current overplayed song of the moment (thanks to Mr OD)... Florence & The Machine's Shake it Out. The lyrics are just amazing, from start to finish. I will admit that on first listen I didn't like the song but when I listened to the lyrics, it was love at second listen :)

All the words just really connect with me. If ever there was a song for this blog this would be it. For me it's about having had enough, letting go no matter what it takes, hoping, facing the future...love it!!!

Lyrics like - Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground...I am done with my graceless heart so tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart...And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope...It's always darkest before dawn...And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back so shake him off - I especially love that last line. Anyway here's a link, enjoy.

P.S - Someone recently noted that this blog makes me seem like I'm all about the music and not about the books. Unfortunately the only reason that I haven't highlighted any books is because it's been a while since I read a really great book. I think the last book I read that made me happy...weird word to use I know but good reads make me happy even if the book is not a happy book per se...anyway the last book was Jennifer Donnelly's The Wild Rose and that was in March/April. But though the book took me to my happy place it's not of universal appeal as it's a romance saga. Unfortunately I'm still searching for another White Tiger or Count of Monte Cristo, my all time top two. When I find it I'll be sure to share the joy. Until then, enjoy the music :)

Tales by Moonlight

There was this boy from my neighbourhood, he was training to become a medical doctor. Brilliant boy, from a good home, had everything going for him. 'Bright Star' they called people like him, lord knows we didn't have too many of them in the neighbourhood back then.

But what's that they say about bright stars? They burn out fast. You could say that happened to Dr J. That's what we called him, Dr J, on account of him wanting to be a doctor. Well Dr J burnt out, can't really say it was his fault, but then again can't really say it wasn't.

You see what had happened was Dr J got in with the fast crowd, the 'bright young things'. I'm sure you know some of them, everyone does. They are those young folks with too much money and not enough common sense. Oh don't get me wrong, quite a few of them are educated but what's education got to do with common sense? You either have it or you don't.

Well Dr J apparently had none. He ran with the bright young things, drinking, drugging, gambling...and the seven sins too. Then one day he got into a conflict with one of the other bright young things. Don't know the why's or the wherefore's but rumour says it was over a business deal gone wrong....business deal, ha!

So Dr J says Mr Bright Young Thing has stiffed him over a deal and he wants his money now. Well Mr Bright Young Thing disagrees. He disagrees so much, he sends some boys to teach Dr J a lesson. Not sure what kind of lesson you learn from being knifed to death but Dr J sure learnt that lesson well....and that right there was how my neighbourhoods bright star burnt out.

Such a damn shame. But that's young folks for you. They think they know it all, the world is a personal gift to them and they have all the time to enjoy it. Damn damn shame!!


For the non-Nigerians, the title 'Tales by Moonlight' refers to a sunday evening programme on national tv in Nigeria in the 1980s for children. Fictional stories were told by an adult to groups of children sitting around and each tale unfailingly had a moral lesson. Sunday evening was not complete for KK and I if we did not watch Tales by Moonlight. Amongst other lessons, we learnt (mostly from tales involving the tortoise) not to be greedy or disobedient, to be truthful always and to share....I believe the day the tale on sharing was told, KK was out playing footie....I kid I kid :)


The reason I titled this highly fictionalised story Tales by Moonlight is because it was inspired by a song Mama and Cuz S were singing this eve, the song was apparently taught to them by my Grandma and was based on real events that happened in the family's neighbourhood in Lagos, in Lafiaji, during my Grandma's time. The lyrics of the song are...


dokita to binu sinwo 
dokita to binu sinwo 
boyze won binu yo obe
 ye
 e wa wo eje ni Lafiaji...


Loosely and literally translated it means a doctor angrily asked for money he was owed, in return the boys he was asking angrily brought out knives and subsequently blood flowed in Lafiaji. According to Mama and Cuz S, my Grandma knew/knew of the doctor, he was from a prominent family and he was killed in the incident. Though either Grandma didn't give Mama and Cuz S the nitty gritty of the unfortunate incident or they just can't remember...I would make jokes about age and memory here but they can still kick my butt!! 


For my Nigerian readers and Fela fans, the tune of the song is the same tune of 'Oni Dodo Oni Moin-Moin' , the lyrics of which end with 'e wa wo ija ni Lafiaji'. So food for thought, as I believe Fela would have been a young 'un at the time of the events in my Grandma's Lafiaji, would I be right in saying the eje  came before the ija in Lafiaji :)


Hope you all enjoyed the fictional story and the little bit of my family folklore. 


Oh and the Yoruba peeps, please kindly forgive my yoruba, I'm only half :)

I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up! Not me!

This morning, like the good Christian child I was raised to be (and I mostly am...YES I AM) I picked up the Word for Today to see what today's reading and devotional was about. Here's a quote from it, "we spend most of our twenties discovering all of the hundreds of things we can be. But as we mature into our thirties, we begin to discover all of the things we will never be. The challenge for us is to reach our forties and beyond and put it all together."

I promptly sent the quote to bffl via bb, because that's how we roll :-)

And to quote her, "what kind of hopeless message is this?" Lmao...But as someone like her in her early thirties, I feel her. So what? We've got a few years of disappointment as a grown up left??? There we were in our twenties thinking that by our thirties we'd have our sh*t together.

And there we were thinking we were doing a pretty good job of getting it together too. Forging ahead nicely as a grown up. Granted certain expectations not met yet...but why make the thirties sound so depressing?

Well...Time to get crackin' and find those things I'll never be.

P.S - title is quote from Peter Pan.


And before I go I thought I'd put a link to the song I am currently enamoured with...James Morrison's Better Man...enjoy (can you tell there's a romantic living somewhere in me with the lyrics of the songs I like)

What if?

I absolutely detest what if's, I find them to be time wasting and unproductive. I like living in the present, after all I can't change the past, what's done is done and can't be undone etc etc etc....and yet like most humans I can't help but embark on the what if journey every once in a while. Today's journey was brought to you courtesy of last night's dream of a past love...or should that be a nightmare? Anyway I have spent a significant part of my day wondering what brought on the dream, why I had the dream, whether the dream meant something and worst of all what if things had turned out differently.

I figure the dream happened because I'm back in Lagos bumping into old friends and being constantly reminded of a past life. And maybe because in that past life I truly thought my future life was with this dude...ha, little did I know! I would be lying if I said I don't have regrets but I am practical enough to realise that sh*t happens and life goes on. Living or wallowing in the past doesn't help especially when the other party has moved on and for all intents and purposes is living a very happy and settled life.

So I choose not to continue on this particular journey...boy am I glad there's only 8 mins left to the day. Here's hoping new day, new thoughts, living in the present.

And on that note I am mentally preparing myself for my literal journey back to the UK next week...to the cold, to Nisa, to Livability, and to my male Shatu who I have missed :)

It's been wonderful being in Lagos, seeing friends and family. Didn't get to see everyone...then again I guess I saw the people that wanted to see me and I had a blast with them. I'm a bit iffy on the 'seeing people on holiday' etiquette...see when people come to the UK I go to see them or meet them, I come to Lagos and I am supposed to get up to come see you in Lagos too...mehn the crack you smoke is the good stuff!!!

Do you see the truth through all those lies...

Last night was aaaaaaargh....and so I am making a conscious choice not to let anyone frustrate me or cause me endless worry, stress or sleepless nights.

I am only responsible for myself.

I cannot change anyone, fix anyone but me, and unlike Coldplay I am not even going to attempt to try. I am too busy battling with myself and dealing with my own demons and flaws to try and attack yours.

With adulthood comes freedom and with freedom comes responsibility. I have learnt that just because you can say or do something doesn't mean you should. I let common sense guide me, unlike knowledge, it's free and available for all. And if you possess none (which I hate to say it clearly seems you don't) that's what family, friends, community, church are there for....guidance, listen and learn. But that's all they can do...guide, not change. That's a DIY job.

I have also learnt to let compassion flow and dictate my actions towards others. And I try very hard not to judge. Trust me, you aren't all that either, and you've made mistakes as well.

I know who I was, who I am, and who I want to be. I am in constant conflict with myself, some days are good, I improve...other days I regress but always I know who I want to be. How about you?


For the curious this is not directed towards anyone in particular but to the general community I reside in :)


Title is a play on the lyrics of Cry by James Blunt.

..You're breaking my heart...I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please to come home...

Its amazing how something so minor when considered in the greater scheme of life can still manage to piss you off, make you lose your appetite and mess up the rest of your day.

This morning I left my house with an earring in each lobe, this evening I came back with one bare lobe. Somewhere between Old Street and Welwyn lies one expensive silver mesh hoop. I just couldn't have worn the cheap ass accessorize or topshop earrings could I, nope, had to wear the one my Mama gave me....aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!

Woosah...

So my relatively okay day ended on a low point and to drown my sorrows I decided to dive into a golden myriad mix of music via good old youtube... Chaka Khan's 'Through the Fire', Earth Wind & Fire's 'After the Love has Gone', Joni Mitchell's 'Both Sides Now', Billy Joel's 'Just the Way You Are' and 'Piano Man', Simon & Garfunkel's 'Cecilia' which led to Neil Diamonds 'Sweet Caroline'....which I used to loooooove so I'm in a better mood now and can happily go off to bed.

Title is from Cecilia.

I was going to put a link for Sweet Caroline, simply because it's the last song I listened to but decided to put Chaka Khan as I've been overplaying that song for over a week now....through the fire, to the limit, to the wall...through the fire, through whatever come what may...right down to the wire, even through the fire...loves it, enjoy!!!!

You know you've gotta have hope...

Have you ever looked back and tried to pinpoint that exact moment when things changed in your life, when you moved from one stage into the next. Sometimes it’s easy because some of those moments have markers that are celebrated - graduation, wedding day, birth of a child etc. Other times it’s much harder to pinpoint because the change was subtle, gradual, you wake up one morning and suddenly realise things have changed.

A few times you are lucky and you feel the change happening, maybe you foresee something, or the air around you feels different even though there’s no obvious change in your life, in your daily routine.

That’s where I am at. I woke up on Friday and everything felt different, felt hopeful, like something was about to happen, something great. Today is Tuesday and nothing has changed, nothing has happened, no phone call relaying wonderful news, no gorgeous stranger crossing my path, no numbers coming in on the lottery… but I’m still excited because everything still feels different.

Anyway it’s 7.11am and I need to get a move on unless I’ll miss the 7.25am bus to St. Albans. That’s the thing about living in the boonies, there’s a bus once every lifetime.

I grab my keys and head out the door. As I lock it behind me, like clockwork 99’s dog begins barking his little insane cujo head off, and like clockwork as I begin my power walk down the road I send a little mental curse…maybe today will be the day he meets a bat and greets his owner with a love bite…hey don’t judge, you try sleeping next door to a dog that never stops barking, it's a foolproof recipe for unending tiredness.

I resolve not to let Cujo or his owner spoil my mood and my day continues as normal, idiot boss, semi-idiot colleague, kfc for dinner, eastenders…time for bed….still hopeful.

I wake up Wednesday still hopeful, yep, change is coming. I can feel it!!

I grab my keys and head out the door and nothing, complete silence. Weird I’m thinking as I power walk to the bus stop, I can’t remember Cujo barking all night, in fact last time I heard him was yesterday morning. I wonder what happened to the little monster, maybe he's finally being treated right, I'm positive all that barking is a cry for help.

Great, neighbour 97 is at the bus stop, means the bus is yet to come. I slow down to a stroll, catch my breath, I’m going to need it. 97 is the Dot Cotton of the neighbourhood, knows where all the bodies are buried and will not hesitate to tell everyone’s business.  I barely get a ‘Good morning’ out before 97 launches into what I like to call my morning nutshell version of daily neighbourhood events.

I proceed to mentally spend my lottery winnings, it is Wednesday after all and I can feel change coming. I am just about to board my Gulfstream G550 when I realise 97 is looking at me expectantly. Shit! He asked me a question didn’t he?

‘Pardon’, I say, smiling as pleasantly as I can,

‘Hey, don’t worry’ he says, winking,

Ok, why would I be worried?  And why the hell is he winking at me? Thankfully the bus pulls to a stop in front of us and I make my way to the back seat, leaving 97 to his usual front row seat.

Later that evening, as I walk towards my house, I see 99 sitting on his front stoop. I send a neighbourly wave in his direction and he stands up and walks towards me.

‘You heard about Davey?’ he asks,

Davey, Davey, oh Cujo…‘No’, I reply, ‘is he ok, I didn’t hear him at all last night or this morning.’

‘They took him away’, he cries, ‘the RSPCA took him away.’

I make appropriate sympathy noises and escape into my house, to my kfc, corrie and bed.

I am currently lying in bed thinking about change, I am still feeling hopeful, it’s coming I know. I lie here contemplating in the stillness and quietness of the night. As my eyes sleepily close I realise my change has come, it’s in the stillness, in the quiet night, the peaceful night. No noise, no insane barking, no Cujo. That's my change, the end of Cujo and the beginning of restful nights. 

As I drift off to lala land I make a mental note...don't forget to thank semi-idiot colleague for calling the RSPCA.

Title - Gabrielle's Dreams 

P.S - Cujo is very much alive, at home and barking as I type, poor dog, but a girl can dream :)

Fear can hold you prisoner. Hope can set you free.

Title is the tagline from the film The Shawshank Redemption, one of my favourite films.

It's a pretty simple concept, fear crippling you, hope shoring you up...

There are two quotes on hope in the film that resonate with me. Towards the end the protagonist states that 'Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things...', a complete opposite of what was stated to him earlier that 'Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane'.

People who know me well would probably guess that I identify more with the latter quote. A lot of the time life is about hoping, advertently or inadvertently, we are constantly hoping. In all situations, that things turn out for the best, that a positive outcome is realised. Sometimes hope is abstract, oft times it's specific to a particular matter. At all times it has the ability to drive a person insane.

It's that idea of hoping for the best, constantly hoping for the best and having to adapt/adjust when it doesn't pan out. And what's crazy is we keep hoping, even when everything points to things not working out, we keep hoping till the very last minute. It's like cold comfort, and when things constantly don't work out, that's when insanity may set in.

But despite it's ability to drive you insane, I don't knock hope because it literally keeps you alive, keeps you going, especially in dark and difficult times.

Hope and faith (if you are fortunate enough to believe) shore you up and sometimes if you are lucky and the gods are with you, it does pan out, a'la Andy Dufresne in Shawshank, and then you can look back and see hope as the best of things.

If I can help somebody while I travel along...with a word or song...Lord my living shall not be in vain...

I went for the funeral service of an elderly acquaintance of mine today. His name was Derek and we went to the same church. He was in his mid-eighties and was truly one of the nicest, warmest people I've come across in my life. He gave the biggest hugs and he had this huge smile that lit up his face. Every Sunday I was guaranteed at least a minimum of 2 hugs and lots of smiles.

As I sat in church today listening to people's memories about him, my emotions as could be expected veered between sadness and laughter, but I also felt regret. Regret for not taking the opportunity to get to know him better because he took the time out every sunday to seek me out and say hello, to ask after my health, my family and life in general. I regret not making more of an effort to seek him out especially this last year when he was poorly, to let him know I appreciated his kindness, his warmth and his endeavours to always make me feel welcome and comfortable. I especially regret missing the last church lunch he invited me to as his date. One of the last times I saw him was on a tuesday outside the supermarket across the road from church and Derek spied me, came over and asked that I follow him to the church coffee morning he was on his way to...unfortunately I couldn't go because I had pilates and we laughed about that, I promised to attend the next coffee morning but of course I didn't.

Derek wasn't just kind to me, he was kind to everybody. My mama got a hug as well but mine he laughingly always made sure was always more special. If she got a handshake, I got a hug. If she got a hug, I got a hug and a peck on the cheek. That's just how he was, charming and funny, with everybody. The memories in church today were poignant but beautiful. They spoke about a man who lived his faith, he selflessly gave of himself time and time again, visiting the sick, volunteering his time and car as transportation etc. They spoke of a man I would love to know, to learn from; a man I could have known and learnt from if only I had seen beyond my self and my world.

I am glad and thankful that I met him and knew him, even if only as an acquaintance, even if only a little, because that little was enough in it's own way.

Seeing him always put a smile on my face and as I remember you today Derek, I remember you with a smile on my face. I will miss your hugs and I pray that your soul may rest in perfect peace.


P.S - My title is from an old Mahalia Jackson gospel song. Words are simple and to the point. If you've never checked out Mahalia Jackson, please do so, especially if you like gospel music...traditional gospel. I love her rendition of the hymn 'It is well with my soul', hauntingly beautiful. Her voice is amazing.

Ridin' through this world...

I'm not a tv person, I'd rather read a good book. But every once in a while I discover a tv series I like and as I usually discover them after they have been on for years I have a lot of catching up to do. So as one with a borderline addictive insular personality I will focus completely on that series to the exclusion of all else in my life.

I have just watched the last episode of season 3 of a show called Son's of Anarchy. I have spent the last week or so watching all episodes of the 3 seasons.

SOA is a US drama series that premiered in 2008. It's about SAMCROW, an outlaw motorcycle club...think Hell's Angels.

The story-telling is fantastic. There's a Hamlet theme going on mixed in with a mafia mob like element that surrounds the club and then of course there's the drama of the complexity of human relationships, all set in what seems to be a small town in California. Even the violence shown, and quite a lot is shown, hasn't put me off the show. And to top it all off, there are a few funny lines thrown in.

Lastly SOA has hands down the best ever soundtrack I have ever heard on any tv program. Every single song played complements the scene(s) it accompanies and the lyrics...wow, just wow.

I'm just going to end by saying SOA rocks and season four can't get here too soon for me.

Title - it's from the theme song of SOA This Life.

P.S - third or fourth post in a week....hmmm...is the drought over?

I believe the children are the future...

Kids...lets talk kids.

There's this rumour going round I don't like kids, the human variety not the animal...though some of the human ones I've come across are no better in behaviour than the animal ones.

But seriously I don't not like kids. I just lack the patience that's required to deal with them.

I need to put a caveat here now, the fact that my niece and nephew are around at the moment has absolutely no bearing whatsoever on my decision to write this post :)

I love Osqd and thankfully they know the aunt they've got and accept me and my rules and quirks. I love them even more now they are getting older and I can relate to them on a level that makes sense. Also they are my family, it's kind of a requirement that I love them.

I will confess though that I barely had interest in them as babies. I mean I loved them in that abstract way you love family members but they were babies and I don't do babies. I can't relate to them. They don't talk, they can't talk...so what do you do with them, how do you know what they want...and they cry all the damn time...for everything...you know..because they can't talk!!!!

But I don't hate babies, I just don't get them. Call me when they turn between 2-4 and start to speak a language I can decipher, I'd much rather 6-8 though when they start to reason properly and understand that tantrums don't work with me....Osqd are such a joy to be with now :).

Also what's with the need of parents to inform you on every single perceived milestone their baby reaches. OMG he/she smiled, they send a picture via bb. OMG he/she sat up, sending a picture. OMG he/she looks so cute in this outfit you got him/her, here's a picture. OMG he/she...he/she...erm he/she...whatever...he/she's alive...did you get the picture?

And then of course I feel pressured to reply to the bbm's, thank God for smileys.

I will take this time to apologise to my friends and family for not enquiring frequently about their kids...it's just well...erm...yeah...I got the pictures though.

Anyway I just thought I'd put it out there once and for all. I don't hate kids. I would like to have kids at some point and BGG I will. And I promise to inform all and sundry about his/her every detail...yep get ready folks cos it'll be payback time :)

Ground control to Major Tom....can you hear me Major Tom?

Is anyone out there? Is there anyone actually reading this blog?

I know a few people have checked it out and a couple of people drop by often, but it's hard to know if there are any regular followers as people absolutely refuse to comment or give feedback. Here I am valiantly overcoming my shy introvert personality and putting my innermost thoughts...well almost innermost :)...on the world wide web and no comments...seriously no comments....note - the SC post doesn't count!!!

How am I supposed to know if my writing (fiction and non-fiction) is good if I don't get feedback. Constructive criticism is always appreciated especially with the fiction posts....please no smart alec pointing out the obvious re the scarcity of fiction posts.

P.S - The lyrics of the David Bowie song in my title doesn't/don't/whateveritslatemygrammarsshot really relate to this post but when I was thinking about a title for the post this song popped into my head. Interprete as you please :)

Also someone suggested I stop with the musical titles. Haven't decided if I will or won't as I didn't intend it to be a pattern but my heads full of music most of the time so that's what comes up when I'm thinking title's. I guess I'll see how it goes.                                                      

Sometimes I get nervous when I see an open door...

It's been a while since I've been here.

A lot of reasons why...been busy, family's around, not been inspired & truthfully just been lazy. But today I was listening to the song Human by The Killers and the line - 'sometimes I get nervous when I see an open door' - struck a chord within.

I hate change, I always have. I get a sick feeling in my stomach when I start anything new - school, work, friendship, relationship etc. I may not like where I am at but for me it's better the devil you know. I hate stress, I like being comfortable and if I'm nervous I'm far from comfortable.

I am also sadly a control freak. I like things just so and if they aren't just so, it feels like my world is off kilter and I hate that. As you can imagine when it's something new it's not just so, it takes a while for you to get your bearings and figure things out. I don't like that, I like being comfortable all the damn time!!!

So how do you live in a world that's in a constant state of change. According to The Killers you 'close your eyes, clear your heart, cut the cord'...me, I prefer thinking worst case scenario and then doing what needs to be done. If worst case scenario doesn't occur, then it's all good and at some point I find my bearings and institute control over my new state of affairs.

My So Called Sickle Cell Disordered life

Today, June 19, is World Sickle Cell day. A day that's meant to be used to raise awareness of the disease. So this is me, a sickler (a person who has sickle cell disorder), doing my bit for SC day.

I am not going to go into the medical definition of SCD, I'm going to assume that if you are savvy enough to get onto this blog then you are savvy enough to google SCD. What I am going to do is give an insight into how SCD has impacted my life or rather what it's like living with SCD.

It's not something I'm used to talking about unless asked so here's hoping this post makes sense.

The main symptom of SCD for me has been pain, from mild aches to excruciating 'kill me now please' pain. And it can strike anywhere, I've experienced joint pain (all joints), back pain, chest pain, head pain, tail-bone (the absolute worst hands down), pelvic (gives tail bone a good run for its money) and collarbone (right up there with pelvic and tail bone in terms of discomfort and intensity).

I'm going to pause here and go a bit medical, the reason for the pain is that my red blood cells have gone into a sickle shape as opposed to the normal disc shape red blood cells usually are. Why do they go into a sickle shape? Google.

So the red blood cells go sickle shape and this causes an episode of pain which in the SCD world is referred to as a 'crisis'. Now most medical personnel I have come across in my thirtysomething odd years tend to term all episodes of pain as crisis. I don't do that, and I don't think many sicklers do. For me a crisis is when the pain is more than a mild ache and over the counter drugs (paracetamol, ibuprofen etc) don't do shit.

Please note, a crisis does not always mean I will be hospitalised. I have dealt with plenty of crisis's at home, as long as I had prescription only pain killers, some form of heat compress, lots of drinking water, and most importantly my Mama.

However, for me and I'm guessing most sicklers, there's a point of no return, when you realise that you are only going to get relief if you get to a hospital asap. A good hospital I should state here, unfortunately with SCD, only experience will teach you which hospitals to avoid like the plague, *coughqe2cough*.

Now friends, families & well-wishers who are around when the sickler has reached the point of no return...there's one simple rule you need to obey....do not ask how the pain is, infact I personally would prefer it if you don't speak at all. If I voluntarily ask to go to the hospital (usually at about 4 or 5am for some unfathomable reason) common sense ought to tell you the pain is effing bad. Also medical personnel at A&E, why do you persist in asking me what number the pain is on a scale of 1-10, if I'm in A&E at 4 or 5am, the pain is a flippin 15...off the damn scale so just give me the morphine, hook up the fluids, get me a bed and shut up.

P.S - I would prefer you also hook up a PCA (patient-controlled analgesia) so I don't have to look for a nurse who'll have to look for the registrar on night duty who is usually far far away somewhere before I can get another shot of the good stuff.

Now the reason I would prefer that people not speak to me when I'm having a crisis especially a 'kill me now please' crisis is simple. The pain is bad, really bad. It hurts to speak, it hurts to think. I am in a bubble of pain and all I want is to get out of it, I will even settle for just taking the edge off the pain, which is what that first shot of morphine in A&E usually does... if you're lucky (unfortunately I have been unlucky many times...once KK joked that the morphine in one hospital must have been fake because they gave me a lot of shots and that bubble stayed intact... *coughqe2cough*).

It should be noted that episodes of crisis is not the only impact SCD can have on your life. It can also cause many other complications. One of which for me, has been AVN (avascular necrosis)....google it. I'm not going to go into this suffice to say I've had to have a hip replacement and I'm probably looking at a shoulder replacement. On the plus side though I've saved a LOT of money on handbags as I prefer not to put weight on my shoulder so I rarely carry them.

You would think that crisis and avn are the worst things for me when it comes to SCD. But they are not, the absolute worst is the mental effect it has had. SCD has the ability to destroy plans and disrupt your life and because of this you live in a state of fear. For example, a crisis can strike at anytime without any warning, so you are constantly on edge, aware of any and every twinge that occurs in your body...it's exhausting. If you pay attention as a sickler, you discover your triggers (what is likely to bring on a crisis), for me it's - stress, sudden change of weather (hot to cold, cold to hot, anything), menstrual pain, and infection. So I am on the constant watch out, unfortunately the damn thing could still strike anyway no matter how careful I've been.

So over the years you deal with...missed school, missed work (or powering through the pain because you don't want to miss an exam or the first day of work, Aelex); missed aeroplane flights therefore missed holidays (or you take the flight anyway because the pain struck on the day you are flying so you cry and pray your way through the flight); missed weddings and parties (or attending the wedding anyway because you are the Chief Bridesmaid, luckily Ookc was a star and didn't mind having a completely useless CB); missed being part of the carnival in primary 2, missed playing with the abacus in nursery 1 (and they wonder why I'm bad at maths???).

**Please note exceptions above can only happen when the pain is less than 'kill me now please', at that stage you can barely function, just breathing is an achievement!!!

But it hasn't been all bad. I've been lucky with my family, friends & well-wishers who are an amazing bunch. Especially Big V & Mama who never ever let me feel like I was less than anyone else, anything KK could do I was allowed to do....well except rough play. I remember missing most of Form 5 in secondary school and Big V being told by the school that I would have to repeat the form, he assured them (without consulting me) that I would keep up, that they either put me in Form 6 or I would be leaving the school, repeating was not an option. I kept up.

This post is now getting too damn long and though there are loads more issues I should mention (e.g being constantly tired because sicklers have low haemoglobin levels), I am getting tired talking SCD.

So I'm going to end by saying that my life as a sickler has been pretty damn good despite the crisis and the avn and other stuff. I wouldn't change it at all.

Also last year I decided to go on this wonderful drug called Hydroxyurea which is meant to reduce the intensity and number of crisis episodes... today is 361 days crisis free :)

P.S- Every sickler is different therefore every sickler's experience with SCD is different, as such though I'm reacting positively to Hydroxyurea it doesn't work for everyone. Also I still get achey but no crisis so I'm a happy camper.

Outside I'm masquerading...

They see the smile on my face,
They assume there's strength within.

'It's not strength' I want to tell them, 'It's surviving',
The world didn't give me a choice but to survive.

I'm screaming within, weeping, crying out,
Hear me, See me, Feel me, HELP ME!!!

But they see the smile on my face,
They assume there's strength within.


Title - The Tracks Of My Tears by Smokey Robinson

He who has begun has half done...

I don't write poetry, I don't want to write poetry, I don't think I can write poetry and I'm most especially not a big fan of conventional poetry. I had enough of that in school. 

Over the last few days I've read a couple of books that have dealt with the themes of hope, struggle, and the general purpose of life especially a life beset by struggles...(if anyone has an answer to life's purpose I'd be happy to hear it).

Anyway these books awakened a little bit of creativity in me (probably because I identify with the themes) and I started writing dialogue which I hope will be incorporated into a story I've been mulling on, but I thought in the meantime I'd post it here. I've pretty much shortened the dialogue into a form of prose...I hesitate to say poetry because like I said, I don't write poetry.

Title - I'm taking a step away from music with this one, title's from a quote by Horace.

That's right, I'm on my own, I'll call my own shots, thank you...

I haven't said one word to anyone today, not one word. For the first time since last year I'm on my own...Big V's left, Aunt J's left, Mama, Lil V and lastly Cuz B, all gone back to Gidi. So I'm on my own...and I'm loving it.

I'm loving being in control of my environment, and just to ensure I'm in complete control, I've blitzed the house. Gone from room to room cleaning with a frenzy, stripped beds, made beds (hate bare mattresses), swept...yes swept with good old fashioned Naija igbale, dusted, mopped, washed and tidied, all on a cloudy rainy sunday when most sane people are in bed.

I clearly accept that there may be a slight touch of insanity going on with me especially as now my shoulders are on fire, my chest aches and I am tired....but hey I'm happy. I walk into each room and look around and I'm happy...yes Dr Lil & Cuz S I agree that I am most likely stupid and irresponsible for embarking on such a mission as recently I've been complaining about being tired. I fully expect your phone calls or bbm's insulting me.

It was worth it though because it's nice knowing everything is in place where I left it. Control freak much? Most def and it seems it's only getting worse as I get older.

Anyway I'm off to get ready for evening service...apparently its going to be a Celtic style service, sounds interesting :)

Title - Control by Janet Jackson.

Its only words, and words are all I have...

Music isn't my first love, heck for the longest time it wasn't even a love. So it's really weird, to me at least, that I seem to have this musical love affair going on in my life at the moment...perfect example, my post titles.

I'm a book person, always have been, hopefully always will be. I have been known to throw tantrums if I find myself without reading material. As a child I fought wars with KK over who got to read a book first. Once I even got my poor mama to phone around late at night looking for a book for me to read...she found me one because she knew no one was sleeping that night if she failed.

Then Steve Jobs came along with the damn Ipod and made it easy for me not only to access music but to carry it around with me. Also I could download a song without buying the whole album...damn him!!! So now I find myself cheating on books with music. And what's worse is that I'm listening to all kinds of music, I'm giving all and sundry a try. I never did that with books....Stephen King books...over my dead cold body will you catch me reading one, and never ever again will I pick up a Danielle Steele. As for James Patterson....hmmph he's on my ish list with his damn Alex Cross (seriously I refuse to believe that dude is black!!!!) and lets not even mention the one where Alex Cross goes to Nigeria.

But music...look at me buying Vivaldi's Four Season's (Spring rocks!) in one moment and then Artful Dodger in the next (re-e-wind, let the crowd say bo...lovely memories). So I'm definitely not a music snob though I stopped short at getting Whigfield's Saturday Night, even though I really wanted to.

However, the songs I like the best are the ones that like I've mentioned before 'speak to me'. Where the words in a line or a verse just strikes a chord within. I remember reading a quote somewhere once that said something like - a song will always outlive a sermon in your memory. 

So I guess that's where my love for books and my love for music connect...words. 

That's it. I'm in love with words.

What a post. Maybe Mr OD is right, I may not be sober tonight :)

Title - Words by Bee Gees.

Regrets and mistakes, they're memories made...

Title is from Adele's song Someone Like You. I've got her album 21 on constant replay at the moment, which is probably a huge mistake as a couple of songs on there are thought provoking...but I'm loving the album too much to stop.

Anyway this particular lyric struck a chord. 'Memories made' to me implies you can think of them with something akin to acceptance or resignment. I'd love to think of my regrets and mistakes like that instead of them being past moments/events which sometimes when remembered still cause deep distress....note slight exaggeration going on here, some of them when remembered just cause deep embarrassment and shall never be spoken of.

But then I'm a believer in fate, whatever things I did or didn't do/paths I took or didn't take, distressing/embarrassing, led me to the life I have now. It's not perfect by any means but it's pretty okay. So I'll be alright with my regrets and mistakes being memories made but being the person I am, I'm sure sometimes they'll still cause distress and most definitely embarrassment.

And to totally digress but inform....writer's block still very much ongoing unfortunately. I have the story ideas, it's stringing the words together coherently that eludes me, very frustrating.

And another digression but one related to original topic....Lady Antebellum's Need You Now just came on Ipod, that line...said I wouldn't call but I lost all control...bad bad seriously bad embarrassing memories!!!

The Sound of Silence

Thanks to a friend I've had this Simon & Garfunkel song stuck in my head for a few days now.

I've always found  it to be quite a depressing song, maybe depressing isn't the right word, but it's one of those songs that makes me think. There are a couple of lines from the song that have always stuck with me - Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk to you again...and...People talking without speaking, people hearing without listening. 

What I love about songs is that like poetry they can be interpreted in a myriad of ways. I always like it better when I don't know what the author intended his words to mean. It's fun letting the music speak to me. This particular song always makes me think of a lonely world. The idea of darkness being an old friend, of having conversations where nothing meaningful is communicated or where the message gets lost because the recipient hears what they want to hear, where silence grows and seems to reign supreme.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in such a world. I find myself guilty of not saying what's really in my mind, of talking without speaking. I'm uncomfortable letting most people know how I really feel. For example when it comes to my health I'll most likely tell you what I think you want to hear, e.g, 'its no big deal, been through it before, its not the end of the world'. I do this for a number of reasons, to make whomever I'm talking to not worry, because I'm not comfortable talking about how I feel, I think how I feel is silly, or I really don't think its the person's business.

This means that whilst I can talk to you for hours, you'll sometimes find I've probably not said anything deep. There are maybe 3 people I feel absolutely comfortable talking to on that level, bffl, KK & Mr OD, and even they have to catch me in the right mood. It's a flaw I'm trying to change because I've got quite a few wonderful people who have my back so to speak.

And now I find myself wondering why I typed this post and wanting to delete it but I made myself a promise when I started the blog, if I type directly onto the blog I must not delete. So it stays. Which is crazy because Sound of Silence was meant to inspire a short story....sorry Mr SD, maybe it still may as thanks to you, flippin song is stuck in my head.

Can I blame this post on post-op drugs or on my lovely FDs bbm asking for posts:)

A man walks down the street, it's a street in a strange world...

‘Yeah we live outside Houston; we’ve got a farm out there. It’s quite a way outside of the city so my dad’s going to come get me from the airport. It’s going to be quite a big change of pace from the hustle and bustle of New York but you know what ma’am, I must say I can’t wait to get back, felt lost in New York, the Big Apple they call it. Ever wondered why they call it the Big Apple? Seems a weird name for a city but to be honest, everything over there felt weird, people not too friendly over there, not like in Texas. You’ll see when you get there ma’am. So what’s it like in London, y’all have got the Queen over there right? Wow a Queen and all, and that Prince Charles fellow with the big ears, funny looking fellow ain’t he, he’s the Queen’s son right, heir to the throne. That mean he’s going to be King of London yeah? He was the one that married that Diana lady wasn’t he? Poor lady, dying like that and leaving them two little boys, so damn sad. And they say it’s the Queen that did it. Any truth in that? Kinda like JFK ain’t it? The conspiracy theories, that’s what they call them conspiracy theories, not like I believe in such, they get so out there, them theories, makes you wonder the kind of minds that come up with such. But I guess human beings gotta come up with something to explain what they can’t explain. So many things that can’t be explained you see and it makes us feel better when we can explain things so we make things up. It’s like them people that say there’s no God, that the rest of us make God up to make ourselves feel better. I can’t take such people seriously see ‘cause of course I believe in God. Don’t know how someone can not believe in God, I mean it’s easy to see he exists and all. You just gotta look out in the world, everywhere you see proof he exists. I mean them that don’t believe will tell you different, they’ll argue about the bad things going on in the world and ask what kinda God will let bad happen, but that’s human beings doing that ain’t it, not God. It’s human beings doing all them bad to each other. Don’t know how people say there ain’t no God, makes no sense for there not to be God. But well there’re so many crazy damn people in the world ain’t there. One’s gotta be careful nowadays with all that goes on, you switch on the news and its one bad thing after another, makes me not want to watch tv anymore. Yep I’ll be glad to get back to the farm, its quiet out there, not too much bad going on there, it makes sense out there on the farm. So you say you’re from London yeah? Here for a wedding you say? Your brother’s wedding? So why’s it in Houston?’ he asked, 

As I open my mouth to finally contribute to the conversation I hear,

            ‘Will passengers please fasten their seatbelts, we are about to begin making our descent into Houston.’

Title - You Can Call Me Al by Paul Simon

We gotta make a decision, we leave tonight or live and die this way...

So there I am listening to music and inspiration strikes whilst listening to Sarah McLachlan's Answer and I find myself reaching for my laptop and clicking on Word Doc....alas after the first few lines are written and deleted I realise it was a fluke.


But then I get a bbm from my bffl who read my blog and liked the stories but hated the non-fiction post i.e the first post and asked that I come out of the dark place...exaggerate much my love? Anyway I decide that just in case she's right and I am in a dark place which is preventing me from being productive it's time to snap out of it.


So I grab my laptop again and force myself to write...and the result, my next short piece. Caveat, its not fiction, its semi-fiction, Now Rome was not built in a day was it? Hopefully proper fiction writing will commence soon enough. It's about a very interesting man I met on a plane ride when I was in America in 2008.


Another caveat, its a very very short piece that has been through very little editing. I am posting it as I wrote it.


Title - Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

One moment in time

Today…

Her eyes are closed to the glare of the dying sun. She is lying back in the boat, humming a song; her arms are stretched over its sides, her fingers are trailing lazily in the water. I lie across from her, our legs intertwining. I can’t stop myself staring at her, from periodically caressing her legs.

I am reassuring myself that she is here, for today she is here. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow but today at least she is here, she is still with me. I wish I’d brought the camera; I want to capture this moment, freeze it in time. I find myself wanting to do that a lot, freeze time. Stop it completely so we’ll always be together. I find myself also wanting to delete time, erase certain moments, those unpleasant moments in life that seem to happen in a second but affect you forever. I would erase such moments; make it so they never occurred.

For instance I would like to erase that awful day. The day the doctor told us that she had glioblastoma multiforme, an aggressive form of brain cancer. I remember sitting in Dr Roberts office, listening to him tell us that the tests had shown that Lisa had a brain tumour, and that it was an inoperable brain tumour. I remember it like it was yesterday, not like the 7 months ago that it really was.

7 months ago…

The doctor’s office is like most other doctor’s offices. Off-white walls with soothing pictures of flowers and streams hung up next to the medical certificate that assures us that he is qualified to give the diagnosis he is currently giving. I want to interrupt, halt him in mid-flow and shout at him like a child to take it back. But I know he is right. We both do, Lisa and I. We have known for a while that something wasn’t right, the headaches that are increasing in frequency, the blurred vision, the dizziness and nausea. This is one time however that I will gladly accept being proven wrong.

            “Do you understand the options I have given you?” the doctor asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I realise that he and Lisa have gone past the diagnosis and are discussing treatment options. Lisa assures him that she does understand and she will get back to him as soon as we have discussed the options further at home. She seems quite calm which is a far cry from what I am feeling. I have hardly said a word since the diagnosis was given and I don’t say much on the car ride home nor for the rest of the evening. I want to say something, I want to reassure my wife that all will be well but I am finding it hard to process anything, I don’t know what to say and so after a quiet supper we go to bed.

It’s 4 am and I am tossing and turning in bed. This has been the norm for me since we got the diagnosis 3 days ago. Giving up on sleep, I decide to get out of bed and head downstairs to the kitchen. I know Lisa is finding it hard to sleep as well but I feel like I need solitude to get myself together before facing her. I am ashamed of myself, of my behaviour for the last few days. I haven’t been there for her, I know I have been in shock but I don’t think that is a good enough excuse for not being there for her. After all she is the one with the tumour and if I am feeling this way, scared, knotted up, confused and angry inside, God only knows how she must be feeling. We both heard the statistics from Dr Roberts, the average life expectancy for Lisa’s tumour is less than a year. The treatment options, the radiotherapy and the chemotherapy, give us maybe, maybe an extra month or two.

For the last few days I have been veering between laughter and tears. Right now I don’t know whether to scream at the gods or throw myself at their feet and plead for mercy. I settle for switching on the percolator and I sit at the island in quiet contemplation. I find I am pleading in the quietness of my heart, asking God to change things somehow, anyhow. A phone call from Dr Roberts saying there had been a mix up with the tests results; a realisation that it’s all a bad dream and I am going to wake up any second and find Lisa sleeping peacefully next to me; anything at all to change things, make this awful nightmare disappear.

I look up as Lisa walks into the room; she pauses at the door and looks at me with a question in her eyes. I hold out my hand to her in silent answer and she steps into my arms. As always I am astounded by the depth of my love for this woman. She is the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and it’s not just her outward beauty, though that’s impressive on its own. Her dark brown hair that falls thick and heavy to her shoulders like a silky curtain, her brown eyes that glow amber whenever she becomes animated, her lips which always seem to be quirked in a half smile like she knows this wonderful joyous secret.

 I fell in lust with her looks but I fell in love with her personality, her character, her essence. Lisa is one of those people who are eternally optimistic; her cup is always half-full. She sees the best in people and the sun is always shining in her world. I’m the opposite, my glass is half-empty and I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop, looking for the pitfalls in every situation and the flaw in every person. She balances me, makes me see that the world is not so dark and I cannot imagine my life without her. I make her sound like she’s perfect but believe me she’s not. She has the fieriest temper this side of the Atlantic, lord knows I’ve been on the receiving end of it many times. And when she lets it loose, it’s a struggle for her to rein it in.

I wish she would unleash that temper now, rage at the injustice of it all. But she’s quiet, standing very still in my embrace. We stay like this for a long time. Eventually she stirs and asks me if we can talk about the treatment options Dr Roberts gave us, so we sit down with our coffee and discuss it.

“Jason…” she says, her voice faltering “I don’t want to have any treatment”.

I stare at her in disbelief.

“What do you mean no treatment?” I ask.

She tells me she’s been thinking about it since the doctor’s office and she feels that since neither the radiation nor the chemotherapy is going to remove the cancer and cure her, she would rather not have them and save herself suffering through the horrible side-effects caused by both.

I want to change her mind, remind her that the doctor said the treatments could add a couple of months to the survival rate but I know it’s futile.  She has that look she gets when she has made up her mind about something, her eyes are fixed squarely on mine and her chin is jutting out slightly.

Inside I am shaking and scared but I smile and tell her I love her and will support her through whatever decisions she makes. She visibly relaxes and asks me with a smile whether I feel like pancakes for breakfast. I am not hungry but I say yes, I can tell she wants some normalcy after the awful few days we have had.

Today…

The sun is shining in the beautiful blue cloudless sky. It’s a glorious day and Lisa wants to take the boat out onto the lake so I am packing a picnic basket.

The tumour has taken its toll on Lisa. She has lost a lot of weight and her creamy coffee complexion has a permanent sallow hue. Her face always has a strained look to it because she gets these agonising headaches. The changes in Lisa are not only physical but mental and emotional as well. She suffers from memory loss and is constantly frustrated when she can’t remember what she’s doing or when words fail her. She’s not as sunny as she used to be so I try as much as possible to be sunny and chirpy for both of us but I am having a hard enough time with it myself, it’s hard watching my wife die slowly before my eyes.

But it’s a beautiful sunny day so we go out on the lake.

I lie across from her in the boat; she looks so peaceful, lying there humming. I feel a little at peace myself, in this boat on the lake. I’ll take whatever crumbs the gods toss my way so I’m grateful for today, for today she is still with me. I only wish I’d brought the camera.

Title- Whitney Houston

The name of the game

The pot was on the cooker, the water was boiling but Etta took no notice. She sat on the stool in the kitchen, lost in thought, staring at the book she held. At first glance she looked like she always did, tired and wrung out. Her head was bent downwards, her shoulders sagged. Her brown plaits were messy, the hands clutching the book were callused with short jagged nails. Her blue checked uniform was rumpled and stained. Today’s stain was courtesy of the palm oil splashes from cooking that morning’s breakfast. But if you looked closely you could see there was something different about her. She seemed to be glowing. Her skin was flushed and her brown eyes were sparkling as she sat remembering that morning’s events.

Early that morning, she had rushed from the parlour where she had been dusting to quickly answer the door as Uncle got annoyed if the doorbell rang for too long. She opened the door, greeted and curtsied like she usually did, her eyes cast downwards, not really taking any notice of who was standing there, waiting to hear whoever it was enquire after whomever they had come to see. But there was no response, so she looked up. It was him and he was staring at her again, looking at her as if he could see her, see Etta. But he didn’t see her she thought resignedly, they never do, so she waited for him to speak. He asked for Uncle so she took him to Uncle’s study to wait but as she turned away to go and resume her duties he called out to her.

‘I have something for you,’ he said opening the bag he was carrying.

He brought out a book, Wole Soyinka’s ‘The Trials of Brother Jero’, the book Aunty had seized from her the other day. She stood still, bewildered, staring at the hand holding the book out to her not quite sure what was happening or what to do.

‘Here,’ he said ‘Take it, I got it for you, I know how much you loved the other one.’

She took it, nodded towards him shyly and ran out of the room.

The water in the pot was hissing loudly, but Etta sat, very still, staring at the book in her hand; a smile playing on her face, wanting to settle but not knowing how. She let her fingers flip through the pages, seeing the words inside race by. She closed it and held it to her chest, her first ever gift, she thought to herself. She didn’t know how he knew about the book or why he had decided to get it for her. All she cared about was that someone had given her something, he had given her something. It was something for her, a gift for her. Someone had noticed her; someone had seen her, seen Etta!


Title - ABBA 

I need some distraction, oh beautiful release...

Today has been one of those days where I just want to be left alone. No questions, no company. I don’t want to laugh, I don’t want to chat, I just want to be. The only problem is that I also don’t want to think and being left alone means I run the risk of doing nothing but thinking.

I really just want to escape from it all, my life, my thoughts, from me.

Unfortunately I don’t have any vice that would permit me to embark on such an escape, I don’t drink and I don’t do drugs. Having said that I find I am developing a friendly relationship with Lexotan and Tylenol PM. It’s a good thing I don’t have an addictive personality and that I am also of a cautious fearful nature.

I wish I could lose myself in my writing but I am in the throes of writers block and absolute disinterest in everything. I find inspiration in nothing and lose concentration too easily.

I really just want to escape for a while. I’ve given up on the idea of change, at some point one just has to accept shit for what it is and deal. However it would be nice to escape. Just for a little while.

Where are the abducting aliens when you need them?


So in the absence of alcohol/drugs/aliens I decided I would get a jump on this blog thingy which a friend convinced me to try...thanks Segs.

Not sure I have that much to blog about or that I really understand the concept of blogging so in the absence of joining twitter welcome to my diary of thoughts/views/rants/short stories.

I am going to apologise in advance for irregular postings unless of course I become addicted to the concept...ha ha look at me assuming anybody is going to see or read my blog.

Anyway so...well I started writing short fiction properly last year and have written a few stories which I'll post here. Unfortunately as stated above I am suffering from writers block at the moment and as its been going on for about 3 months now, I'm not sure when I'll get to writing fiction again. Which after reading my stories people may decide might be a good thing after all.


P.S - title of my posts are songs or lyrics from songs, this one is from Angel by Sarah McLachlan.