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.

 

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?

 

 

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?

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

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

Why do we get married ?

Why do people get married ?  sally asked barbara as they sipped martinis . i smiled i am so over Mr. Blue with his mixed signal after the horrible double date with the marleys i swear being single isn’t that bad.

 

Yesterday , i went to a pool party and met samson, emmanuel, joel , jerry and steve , three out of five of them were married. They carried on like they had no cares in the world . As the games began ( the drinking games ) i saw them ogle like teenagers after their first wet dream.  it raised the question why do we get married?

Jerry 45 , hot dude , four and  a half packs, a middle management executive in a government a parastatal with 2 kids and 1 in the oven.. , Joey 36 , married last year came with his young mistress who is 21 years old, no kids,  emmanuel , 40 , 4 kids married 8 years . 

SaLLY Johnson , food of the Gods , we ogled her : men , women, girls , boys and cats etc. the random passersby only hoped to catch a glimpse of this miracle. she stood before me in her blue and white bikini . Her curves seem like they were carved in marble , fine and smooth as she just came out of the pool , water  dripping from her to her backside i smile as she says scoot . I squint ,  I don’t want water on my denim. 

 

SaLLY gets chatty over a glass of scotch and before long she tells me about brian her childhood lover who she married after high school but they were currently separated and she was dating his friend chris who is married to cassandra( kardashians can you keep up with my gal SaLLY?).

 

Brain was 36 when he met SaLLY who was barely 16 but with raging hormones and he was nice and matured . Different from the high school boys  , her parents were against the romance but with a lot of wooing of her parents they were married in 16 weeks. three years down the road all brain wanted was kids , kids , kids and work. After a couple of work trips and late nights . she started calling chris to complain and one day she made out with him on the couch. That was the beginning of the end . Brain found out and kicked her out but she was back on her feet. Chris set up an apartment for her with a monthly allowance . I smiled and looked at my wristwatch when will this tale end( i get it , you’re hot and men want to take care of you …duh!!!!) she holds my hands and says  ” i want to get married again”

 

Why do we get Married