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?

 

 

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?