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.

 

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?

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 !

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.

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.

My Forever

Dear My Forever,

 

How was your day ? A nightmare ? I hope not. Work was fine but thoughts of you crossed my mind . Le Lover , Boo , its taking forever for us to be together and since my first letter to you several experiments have happened. I seem to find bits of you in different men but not all of you. I was with Sammy the other day and I kept thinking how perfect it would be if the both of you knew each other and we could all be friends. I love you and I have since I created the idea of you my love.

I have written poems for you , dreamed of birthing a son and daughter for you. Raising a family with you but you remain in my dreams and are constantly hiding from my reality. Are you ashamed of me ? I’m I not good enough for you ? Are you chasing your own fairytale as I have chased you for years? Do you love me?

I wait for you when I line up at the bank to pay my bills, I look for you when the traffic lights turn red. At the pub the other day I kept starring at the entrance waiting for you to walk into my life. Baby, for real why do you walk so slow?  I stole a hug from Brian he feels warm and comfortable and he makes me laugh with his funny impressions. Are you Brian?

Baby, talk to me , I am tired of waiting for my love life to start . I am bored of kissing frogs to find my prince, I want to wake up next to you every morning and kiss you good night everyday. I want to make love to you with every ounce of my body and love you as though today is my last . Please let me love you. Please come home to me , send me a ping, an email or a text or pick up the phone and say hello.

I love you and I am waiting for our future to begin

 

Love always,

Love