Work

work

Why work? I don’t know why? For some people it is because it defines them, gives them a sense of purpose. I know without it,  we would have an enormous amount of time to spend with those we love:  what if we discover their flaws? .

Work enables us pay bills and become responsible adults (whatever that means). Does work matter ?  should the type of work you do matter?

why work though ? i know it maybe easier for me to con some pot-bellied businessman to take care of me for the rest of my life (lol, those who know me well will laugh while others may say, ” How can a feminist think this? ” ) I wont go into how a housewife can be a feminist: blablabla but it is a conversation for some other time.

If money weren’t a factor what would you do for a living? Most people I ask say writer, artist, musician, and producer etc.. They speak of the arts and for the non-dreamers say they just need work in a structured organization. All work is work. This has taken some time for me to understand. How is a doctor not more important than a gateman?

Imagine getting home and having to open the gate? (Not a nightmare right?) What if it was raining cat and dogs? (It would be nice to have someone open the gate right?).

Lets not neglect the house helps, oh my favourite the handyman who provide a service that most husbands and boyfriends no longer need to do to prove they are the man of the house (I have a handyman that does all my electrical stuff and plumbing and he is always available, I like that he solves these little things for me, so when I date a man I am not worried if he knows how to change a light bulb).

That is why the twitter food debate makes me laugh; if only cooking and cleaning made women suitable wives, i know for a fact that I wont have any single friends. There is always something else which is more important than chores or food  but on social media we can go on and on about stuff . Maybe I will tweet later today (a man who can’t install a ceiling fan is that a man?) (Just for laughs, evil grin emoji).

Summary #Allworkmatters, even if it’s not a job you like.

Why do you work? That’s a deep question? A question I hope this post makes you ask yourself.

 

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Why : sHOES?

Shoes are everything, yes I am not Carrie Bradshaw , but every “sex and the city ” fan knows that without the shoes that movie was just about four women trying to find love in New York.

Flat shoes are very comfortable, round or pointed. Gloss or suede they do the job. It is sister Mary. She’s the catholic girl next door. She’s good but you don’t approach her if you don’t want anything serious.

Boots, these require a certain level of attention, for there are those who buy boots just for winter. There are others who know a well-worn boots under a dress or wrapped around the perfect pair of jeans can make men stare for days.

Strappy sandals, every girl’s best friend she is available for casual Saturdays under the summer dress and she’s available to go for weddings with you. She is your main girl. Lets not forget how she makes you look fragile yet classy for all your important dates.

High heeled Shoes:  Red, pink, blue, bursting summer yellow, grey or gold. There’s an extra to you as a lady once you put on heels. It doesn’t let you slouch or look like you didn’t make an effort. She makes you sexy, she is the mother hen of shoes: peep toes, wedges, and pointy shoes. She is your mum; she commands respect. She grooms you for work, for business casual, for that conference, for church and for life.

So why shoes? I say why not.

Labels and why , oh HI !! …

I always was a sucker for labels. To be identified as good, smart, intelligent, sexy, and witty. The constant need to be the perfect woman and get everyone’s approval. Whew!! It was stressful; the journey of people pleasing is so exhausting. Do you know why? Nothing is ever enough, you are kind and people think your kindness is a scam to manipulate them. You are generous and they may think you are trying to buy their affection .You are happy, you may have a secret lover.

Screw label’s, I am a weirdo. Sometimes, I am overly loud and say and do inappropriate things. Other times, I am the patron saint of love. I am unusually kind, forgiving and amiable.

Who/what makes us care about labels? We are labelled from an early age, in playgroup, that’s the shy kid, that’s the vibrant kid. In high school, the labels are: popular kid, smart kids, loose kids, born again, etc. You are the bully or you are getting bullied. Or God forbid the untouchable cool kids. Those we all want to be but love to hate. They do the most on Instagram (i.e perfect posts by the beach #waves, #summer vibes) .

Please we all drink coffee and I know it’s the Holy Grail to you but a morning run, or any workout gives you the same feeling. You don’t see a lot of #greentea posts without the chill vibes; coffee drinkers will make you believe they are zombies before coffee (I know I will get backlash for this, you guys will be ok). Yes, we tea lovers need to start a movement.

I haven’t written in a while but I am back now. I thought I was hiding behind words and not living but that was the opposite. The keyboard is the truth; I am the most authentic when I write. It doesn’t matter what people label you as; but it’s important to know whom you are and own it. That’s how you become whole.

What’s your label? Embrace, it. Except you are: a F**CK Boy, a Stalker, a con artist etc. . You need to find another label.

For the rest of us weirdos, see you tomorrow. Oh, I’m going to do a why series? Who knows why?

 

 

Jc

It wasn’t a day to find love . The sky wasn’t blue , there were no warm winds , absolutely nothing subtle about this day. Cassie had just gotten off work and her soles hurt from her stiletto heels but as mama says ‘no one marries a woman in flats ‘. Sigh , mama and her old maid tales .  She wore khaki chinos pants and a white see through shirt . Mac lipstick fusion pink . She didn’t want to be bothered as she walked to her car .  Of course it’s a c-class mint black Benz after 8 years in corporate this is the least she could do .

Jc drove into the car park looking for the perfect spot for a quick exit . That’s when he saw her 5ft 11 inches , athletic build , caramel skin and a decent behind (he smiled)  … So he drove right to her and said hello ?

Hmmm … Seriously , she said in her mind . It’s been a while a guy wasn’t subtle in his approach of her . She ignored his hello . He pulled the brakes opened the door and walked to her and smiled . She took a double whiff of his perfume (damn , its been a while she had a man so she smiled back) it helped that he’s at least 6ft 1 , light skinned , chiseled body . His black T-shirt hugged him like it was body armor . He was in the office lot to pick up his friend .

The exchanged numbers and that’s how it all began .. the chronicles of jc and cassie …to be continued

Tales We Tell No One ..( Have you found the dress? )

Yesterday I went to the mall in search of my soul,

I searched the stores endlessly for the dress to express how I felt.

The dress that makes you digress,

Go off the route plan,

Makes you find a man with a life plan.

The dress is neither modest nor sexy,

It’s perfectly in-between.

The dress!!!

I searched for the dress forgot about my budget,

So I tried on the frilly dress and then the satin jumpsuit.

As I walked passed the sales aisle she stared at me,

Miss frumpy blue, she is Navy blue, a little above the knees and she has little embroidery details around the bosom area.

I found her.

To anyone else she was ordinary.

I wore her and I achieved emotional balance.

Miss blue sat perfectly on my slim curves and covered all my flaws.

She was all I needed and I paid for her.

As I walked past Mr nobody, I smiled.

He wouldn’t remember me though I am a beautiful woman with a blue dress on.

I will remember the attention he paid to me a bewildered look

As I had no makeup on but I glided the mall halls like it was a runway,

I found the dress and all was well in the world.

Have you found your dress?

Young happy smiling attractive hugging couple and woman looking

Hey ….

Hey,

Are you ok ? I surf the Internet and see happy faces. I see tales of lives lived and I wonder how my life would have been if I had never met you. You were the guy that the books, movies and friends warned me about.

You sat beside me and you stared into my brown eyes, your sight unwavering. You were distracted by nothing; I alone existed in your mind. I was the center of the universe and you listened. You listened like an apt student. Were you trying to write a thesis? Or was it for the movies? Why were you so attentive?

Did I fall for a con man? A regular playa? You deserve an Oscar if it was a performance baby. I fell for your charm and I lay in your arms.

You kissed me, you taste like sandwich dark chocolate wafers. Your tongue melts into mine, its absurd how it felt so natural. My engine resonates to the sound of your engine. I feel unexplainable happiness when I am within a 5-mile radius of you. On my most angry days, I have hated you yet I longed for your deranged comfort. This must be toxic it can’t be love? How can I love someone who flakes at the day-to-day things? When last did we go to the mall to shop for groceries? How can I love a man who doesn’t like phone calls? Long walks and sad love songs?

It’s cruel to ignite this kind of love in a woman and ask her to be civilized baby. This is animalistic, it is basic and I can’t hide it. .

You know I wasn’t meant to love you right? I have been hurt a couple of times. So why did I feel the need to validate our connection. Why put labels on fun things? Why couldn’t I be her? The carefree, bubbly happy version of me? Why did I have the need to show you my poetry? Or tell you about my scars?

Why didn’t I hide when your eyes undressed my soul? Why did I let you read my poetry? Why did I share my darkness with you? Why did I not dilute me? Why did I think you were the man for the job? Why did I let you meet her? The lady miss pinky strings, she danced to all the tunes you played like she and your guy Johnny bee had played in the same band in a previous life. It felt so right I was sure it wasn’t wrong.

You are not my first rodeo; somehow it hurts that you may not be my last. I watch you from a distance sometimes and I wonder? Have you been fed? Do they make you laugh? Does her lips taste like waffles?

Does anyone tiptoe to kiss you goodbye? Are you happy?

Do you call her daily? Do you hold hands and kiss her like you kissed me? (I am smiling is that even possible)? I am kidding (stop shaking your head, I am not conceited, lol).

I miss the life I imagined for us in my head. I imagined us raising an army of the crazies (beautiful, intelligent and artsy kids). One of each. I imagined road trips and vacations in Italy. I imagined runways and walkways in Egypt. I imagined New Year’s Eve in New York.

Now , I imagine breakfast with scrambled eggs, I imagine him doing crossword puzzles; I imagine a life full of surprises because I learned I can’t plan it all. I haven’t met him yet , but I know he would love my awkward dance and my funny sense of style. Best of all he would love to have babies with me, and never give up on us. I swear to do right by him, if I could love you so fiercely, imagine what I could do with him?

I have held on and warmed the bench in your life for so long. I almost forgot how to play the game. Be happy, my friend may love never leave you alone and may you never need a hand to hold.

Arrivederci

Cassie

Cassie hand’s  were on the steering, she smiled as she looked at her well-manicured nude nails. She had to give it to the manicurist her nails were on fleek. She was heading to the mall to kill some time before her dinner date with Anderson.Anderson was the one who got away, they had bumped into each other during her morning runs, he had moved in to an apartment two streets away from her’s and like her, he was still single.

Andy was a bit bulky nothing like what she’s used-to the stocky, muscular guys with mysterious eyes. He never looked haunted or dressed like an artist. He is a type A husband looking guy. He looked like he would be the president of the PTA and would love taking the kids to the park but when they had met  years ago , she was 26 , skinny and hopeful. Andy seemed like a cliche , a smart decision , nothing extraordinary and definitely the safe choice . There were no butterflies with Andy: he did what he said. He was boring and she had always wanted the spark but four years later and a million sparks away, at 30, Andy seemed like the dream. He didn’t play games, he was sweet, but divorced twice and had 3 kids from two women. He seems like a lot of work,  yet , somehow he was work she seemed willing to do.

Akin hurried into the jersey shop to get his name printed on the back, the boys were going to watch the games together at a bar and it was a jersey and kicks night. He wanted to fit in. As he came out of the Adidas store he saw blonde highlights in contrast to her brown skin and with the lighting at the mall she looked like a screen goddess, the kind that always plays the mistress (Don’t do this Akin, you are not ready to date) he said to himself and waited a whole minute but before long he was at the bottom of the escalator trailing her.

She entered the bookstore and went to the fantasy section (reality sucks and she picked a classic M& B and delved into the pages). “ Hello, I am Akin and you are?” he said this with what his friends call the chick magnet smile. She looked up at this African American man and said to herself (he thinks because we share the same complexion, we are meant to be?) yet, she smiled and said “cassie, hello ”.

He sat down next to her and said “ Alex looks into Mary’s eyes and they both know this is something special, they are meant to be… why do you read this crap?”. She laughed and said, “ Because it has never happened to me, doesn’t make it crap but what do I know? I would rather dream than accept that we are all meant to be unhappy and make smart choices with our partners”.

They chatted for hours before she realized it was 10 mins to 9, Andy time. Would it be Safe Andy or Akin the spark?

A Journey !

talking 2

Andrea, started her tale to me ” This Pain is from ages past, Unresolved grudges, rejection from people unknown, staring at my difference, my shyness and my struggle to stand out, the struggle between been normal, average or extraordinary, to shut out the voices in my head or to listen, the pain is from thinking I wasn’t enough, and maybe if I worked harder, fixed the exterior, and the interior made it acceptable to all maybe I will find someone accepting of me, maybe I would find love.

Yet, I have travelled many places, who can love a chameleon, true to itself yet adapting with every environment? Instead of being a peacock I made myself smaller and bigger as the case required ( it seemed like the smart thing to do) . How could I have been so lost? So hungry for affection to not appreciate this perfect piece of art?

Who heals our soul, when its been grazed? When betrayal and rejection taunts the core? What mends us? When we are so afraid to feel the pain?

The heartache or heartbreak doesn’t ruins us, rather the taste of our lovers past that haunts us and reminds us how penetrable we can be.

We are not as closed off as we think we are. Pain reminds us of our humanity and this breaks us even more. I hoped my walls were made high enough, that all I could manage was an august visitor every now and again but the heart suprises us with its strength, it tempts our humanity and betrays us more than we bargain because some of us are born all heart and no matter how closed off we seem, we long for a more intimate existence one enriched with effort, living not just existing.

How have I been so wrong? Chasing a dream, that anyone can complete me? When I myself i am incomplete? That is wishful thinking, to be a peacock is to be one’s authentic self, unapologetic for your awesomeness. A peacock does what a peacock does, to be the best peacock ever is the dream rather than living a life of a pigeon.

she looked at me and stared, peace strangely came to her, knowledge of her struggles past and she continued ..

Yet, I think I am comfortable with this pain, maybe i even willed it because I somehow refused to see the suffering ahead. Maybe, I needed an out ,an excuse to not try again, to say I have done my bit, in this quest. So, maybe I self sabotaged because fixing and repairing my heart and respecting it to wait for the right one is hard. So I got tired and tried to control the situation. Forcing something that was meant to be intermediate into forever time and time again.

Maybe, this is a reminder that as much as I plan, I can be surprised with unexplained joy & pain from detours. It may not be a straight road to the Promise, maybe I am the promise.  I am learning to enjoy the journey of self-discovery and happiness in one’s individuality and maybe every person we meet experiences a bit of us in their own special way. Maybe, the need to own one special person and to belong to one isn’t for everyone, maybe our purpose or my purpose is one greater than one man can bear.

 The truth, I will always hope for a life partner, a fellow traveler but I won’t be sleeping beauty, Cinderella or snow white, I am and will be me.

If any one decides to join me , he must be worthy of the person i have become and viceversa with a hell lot of explanations for where he’s been but most of all he has to have found his authentic self.

Authenticity sees itself, my soul should mirror his and be proud .For only then will this journey and forever, ever truly begin”.

As i listened and watched her , my dearest friend; i knew that she had begun a journey with a truly amazing end.

Dear Daughter,

Dear Natalie,

This letter should come to you as no surprise, as I hope the years we have spent so far together have been joyful and light-hearted. As you turn 16, I hope we are closer than ever because today though you are unborn I find myself closer to you than ever.

I met your father when I had almost given up on the idea of happily ever after, I am a hopeless romantic and there were nights I prayed to God to change me but in the end I always hope for the kind of love that enriches life and not sucks you dry. We met at a book reading, nothing fancy but he found me pleasant and charming, fun-loving yet stern, my awkwardness, and eeriness he considered creepy yet endearing. He worships the ground I walk on and even till date when I am not looking I catch him staring at me as though he can’t imagine his luck for having found me. As you know your pa was hell-bent on ending up alone but the thought of living life without me made him take the plunge.

I hope you never get to the point of giving up, or settling for less than you deserve because you need a hug. I know today that thought seems ridiculous but believe me it happens to the best of us, I dated lots of great men and boys but my heart never felt such joy as the day I had you ( in my mind you were conceived first), you made me rediscover purpose and you are a result of a mind-blowing love.

Someone asked me what is so bad with my reality that I am stuck on fairy tales; he obviously hasn’t read lots of books. fairy tales teaches us hope despite what life throws at us, the end is always happy. Why should I settle for ordinary when the extraordinary is available?

Who wants a marriage of convenience? My quest for true love was filled with tales of woe and heartaches and pain but it was worth it. I wish I had been smarter with my heart, a little more patient in my decision-making process but I can’t spend eternity dwelling on the past. I loved and lost till I found a love that transcended imperfections and childish connotations, I found a friend and a lover, a champion and a warrior, I found my King and I wish that for you my dear.

When it comes to dealing with people:

Listen to their actions, not words

Never make haste to make a decision

A non decision is a decision

Friends first before lovers

Friendship shows true character and only out of that can you find love

Take your own advice, if your heads says its wrong it probably is

Never regret trying

If you fail, don’t give up, try again

People make time for things they love

If you can’t see their souls they are not worth it

If you won’t do the work don’t start

Never toy with anyone’s feelings

Be honest and brave

Guard your heart and your soul, never lose it no matter how bad the other person treats you, remain you

Never mind the ones who make you feel ordinary. You are a miracle, a result of a love people consider impossible. Everyday, I thank GOD for the privilege of having you, so don’t let a two-piece hack tell you different.

If there ever is a man alive who doesn’t think you are enough; he probably isn’t enough for you either so don’t cry too long. For the right man you will be enough.

Don’t let the clusters of people’s past get you stuck in a nightmare, their history isn’t yours, you are great and are loved. Today and always and if no one tells you in this lifetime, I am your mother and I love you to bits.

Forever,

Mum

My Romantic heart is Dead

This maybe the last piece I will ever write on love; as my quest has been tumultuous and time consuming and has led to no fruition. I achieved nothing in this quest except the bitter truth that love is not enough.

The reality is that love works under certain conditions for it to be true, timing must be appropriate, family has to approve (if not you both feel shunned), history at least for the girl must be the barest minimum, your occupation should be noble and your background should be similar or close enough.

New requirements include social media status, the number of likes on the girls page should be equal to that of her mans, society approval of compatibility is key, don’t forget music lovers must stick together #Artgang

What happened to soul compatibility?

What happened to the honesty of a kiss that’s unadulterated by lust?

What happened to the clear indications of happiness? Talking to that person forever and not noticing time fly by?

What happened to hugs that warm up your heart?

What happened to similar hunger to succeed?

What happened to the quest for knowledge and renewed passion?

What happened to true friendship?

What happened to someone who makes you feel safe by saying hello. What happened to what we feel?

Are we all destined to be cowards? Where are the poets? Who wrote sonnets of unrequited love, what happened to Shakespeare’s tale? Is romance dead with the jet age or are our hearts too weak to fight for what we feel?

Am I the only one clueless on the joke? Is true love dead?   The answer doesn’t matter I am all out of tricks and I am laying my heart to rest for only my unborn will ever reawaken her to the maximum capacity. no man’s words, caresses will ever inspire her resurrection.

I am Florence Warmate and my romantic heart is dead.

Goodnight.