...meant very little to me and it has been this way for several years now. Anything associated with Christianity has become a tolerable existence between myself and my family. My devout Christian mother prays every morning for my salvation and every time I walk past her mumbling her prayers, it worries me. I start to question why I felt it was remotely sensible once upon a time to announce my non-religious beliefs and why I regard the constant invites to church as insults.
The Past 3 Dreams
Orange Paper
The train slowed down and the name of the station was announced. I stood to gather my belongings and staggered to the exit door of the train. Squinting to adjust to the natural light, I held on tightly to a bar as the train halted, soon I was hoisting up my suitcase, clutching on to the straggly tote bag and planted my weighted feet onto the platform.
The train slowed down and the name of the station was announced. I stood to gather my belongings and staggered to the exit door of the train. Squinting to adjust to the natural light, I held on tightly to a bar as the train halted, soon I was hoisting up my suitcase, clutching on to the straggly tote bag and planted my weighted feet onto the platform.
Blockage Beyond Belief
I have nothing valuable to say. My mind is invested in heartbreak. I am trying to use this heartbreak to get out! I need my sanity back, something to talk about. I want to go out. I want the colours to mean something. I want conversations to serve as inspiration. I want the sounds to soothe me.
Everything is clashing. The lights are too bright.
The Sounds are too loud and stressful.
Outside is a struggle.
Everything is clashing. The lights are too bright.
The Sounds are too loud and stressful.
Outside is a struggle.
Solitude
"He who delights in solitude is either a wild beast or a god."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
I agree.
-Friedrich Nietzsche
I agree.
Just Stan
*This is not a review.
Yes! The Yonce is back. Nah...let's stick with Beyonce. The 14 tracked, self-entitled album dropped unexpectedly this week and you noticed. I certainly did. I was honest with myself and I watched all of Blue Ivy's mother's videos and I listened to the entire album twice and found myself repeating "Partition", "Drunk In Love", "Pretty Hurts" and "Flawless" of course. . I was particularly interested on how Beyonce managed to clear a sample from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s “We Should All Be Feminists” TedxEuston Speech. The Queen Mother of Contemporary African Literature agreed for her voice to be used on Beyonce's trackFlawless/Bow Down? It was so deliciously paradoxical.
It was one of the main reasons why I decided to listen to the album. Initially, I thought of it as a marketing ploy, to draw in a new kind of audience. I’ve never known Beyonce to be politically inclined, only in her days of Destiny Child when it was cool to be pro something. To be fair, we did see some humanitarian world effort with “I Was Here” but wasn’t she asked to do it?
The videos and production helped a great deal and encouraged me to listen to the album and I made sure I listened to it without the visuals; I didn’t want to overlook the lyrics. The frivolousness of pop culture has been criticised over and over again, which has caused me to deliberately seek out music that is pleasant to my ears sonically and is somewhat meaningful. We are entering a golden era of music which focuses on the conscious and lyricism. Beyonce never had those two. It’s now a fad to make music that means something in pop besides being gimmicky and sexual and Beyonce did all of the above.
The album had been painted as her most daring album yet, almost revolutionary. I had to find out what the fuss was all about. This was an honest album and we actually got to hear an opinion from beyus, some soul, some heart. I prefer her rachet (the slang term for the American underclass) and beautiful, I couldn’t help but reflect on the lyrics of “Pretty Hurts” “What's in your head it doesn't matter”. This line was meant to challenge society’s obsession with image, particularly with women but in the context of lyricism, I prefer Beyonce just beautiful, her efforts for feminism is commendable but it didn’t do much justice with the simple lyrics. If you’re going to be a feminist, do it right! Who am I to criticise the award winning, chart topping African American female singer? Too much good is going on here for me to criticise and I felt snobbish in that single moment.
We box artists into genres that when they try to evolve, it’s painful for us to accept that change.
I said that like I cared. Absolutely not!
In Beyonce’s case, it’s not only that she was innovative in dropping her album with no middle man involved, out of nowhere and had the number one selling album across the globe on Taylor Swift’s birthday and lives up to her message in empowering herself as a woman (key word being herself, please read on). The only thing evolved about this album, is how it was released and how she managed to bite into every past time artist’s style and get away with it. She carried all her influences and updated them in today’s music using the hit makers such as Pharrell, Timberland, Justin Timberlake, her husband, Hit-boy, literally and as a noun. Note; none were female (excluding the visual cameos). It was still a Beyonce album; only she was more open about her sexual exploits. That was the message; why are you crucifying me for being sexually confident? I am a grown woman, let’s challenge the whole landscape of feminism in this America/World and stop messing with my ‘new’ money. I am happy and I am fucking. All wonderful messages that need to be discussed. No sarcasm intended. I really meant what I wrote.
It's a polarising piece of work and Beyonce Knowles is a polarising artist; you either accept her for the artist she is or completely dislike her (I am trying to avoid the overused word, ‘hate’). I've never met anyone who picked and chose songs on a Beyonce album until now.
I will try not to be classist and like some of her songs and try not to think too much about the lyrics. After all, I understood all she had to say and I was entertained, that's enough right?
Yes! The Yonce is back. Nah...let's stick with Beyonce. The 14 tracked, self-entitled album dropped unexpectedly this week and you noticed. I certainly did. I was honest with myself and I watched all of Blue Ivy's mother's videos and I listened to the entire album twice and found myself repeating "Partition", "Drunk In Love", "Pretty Hurts" and "Flawless" of course. . I was particularly interested on how Beyonce managed to clear a sample from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s “We Should All Be Feminists” TedxEuston Speech. The Queen Mother of Contemporary African Literature agreed for her voice to be used on Beyonce's trackFlawless/Bow Down? It was so deliciously paradoxical.
It was one of the main reasons why I decided to listen to the album. Initially, I thought of it as a marketing ploy, to draw in a new kind of audience. I’ve never known Beyonce to be politically inclined, only in her days of Destiny Child when it was cool to be pro something. To be fair, we did see some humanitarian world effort with “I Was Here” but wasn’t she asked to do it?
The videos and production helped a great deal and encouraged me to listen to the album and I made sure I listened to it without the visuals; I didn’t want to overlook the lyrics. The frivolousness of pop culture has been criticised over and over again, which has caused me to deliberately seek out music that is pleasant to my ears sonically and is somewhat meaningful. We are entering a golden era of music which focuses on the conscious and lyricism. Beyonce never had those two. It’s now a fad to make music that means something in pop besides being gimmicky and sexual and Beyonce did all of the above.
The album had been painted as her most daring album yet, almost revolutionary. I had to find out what the fuss was all about. This was an honest album and we actually got to hear an opinion from beyus, some soul, some heart. I prefer her rachet (the slang term for the American underclass) and beautiful, I couldn’t help but reflect on the lyrics of “Pretty Hurts” “What's in your head it doesn't matter”. This line was meant to challenge society’s obsession with image, particularly with women but in the context of lyricism, I prefer Beyonce just beautiful, her efforts for feminism is commendable but it didn’t do much justice with the simple lyrics. If you’re going to be a feminist, do it right! Who am I to criticise the award winning, chart topping African American female singer? Too much good is going on here for me to criticise and I felt snobbish in that single moment.
We box artists into genres that when they try to evolve, it’s painful for us to accept that change.
I said that like I cared. Absolutely not!
In Beyonce’s case, it’s not only that she was innovative in dropping her album with no middle man involved, out of nowhere and had the number one selling album across the globe on Taylor Swift’s birthday and lives up to her message in empowering herself as a woman (key word being herself, please read on). The only thing evolved about this album, is how it was released and how she managed to bite into every past time artist’s style and get away with it. She carried all her influences and updated them in today’s music using the hit makers such as Pharrell, Timberland, Justin Timberlake, her husband, Hit-boy, literally and as a noun. Note; none were female (excluding the visual cameos). It was still a Beyonce album; only she was more open about her sexual exploits. That was the message; why are you crucifying me for being sexually confident? I am a grown woman, let’s challenge the whole landscape of feminism in this America/World and stop messing with my ‘new’ money. I am happy and I am fucking. All wonderful messages that need to be discussed. No sarcasm intended. I really meant what I wrote.
It's a polarising piece of work and Beyonce Knowles is a polarising artist; you either accept her for the artist she is or completely dislike her (I am trying to avoid the overused word, ‘hate’). I've never met anyone who picked and chose songs on a Beyonce album until now.
I will try not to be classist and like some of her songs and try not to think too much about the lyrics. After all, I understood all she had to say and I was entertained, that's enough right?
The Loot
That's what it feels like.
This desperate scramble for wealth and the 'look at me I've made it' mentality.
And I will admit, I've bought into it, just a tad bit and I don't blame anyone else for doing so, I learnt from my colonial fathers, they taught me best. After all, 'money' makes the world go round (I hope you know it really doesn't).
Living in a country that doesn't have a lot and will do anything in her capacity to hold on to the little power she has left, is pretty much what you have to do to survive in this world. We no longer work together, we compete, the negative kind that is. What is yours is not mine and you'll make me very aware of it the moment I get too comfortable. You will have to do your very best and even if you were good enough, if someone better comes along, please do have a reclined seat somewhere in the back whilst I waltz my way into victory.
No we cannot all get along. I cannot accommodate and tolerate. I'm grown enough to not deal with theatrics of life. What are you doing and where have you been? God forbid, I be myself in an interview. Quiet, demure; I don't give you a lot, just enough to keep you interested and see me work.
After you have gathered your spoils and arranged all the letters besides your name that you are entitled to have, please tell me what is left?
My loot is adventure, occasional comfort and work I WANT to do. I'll show off my work when it is finished and I'll credit whoever needs to be credited...so you can spend your spoils on my spoils.
Delirious Me
A Note to Self:
Lady,
I understand you have experienced a moment of selflessness and you have ravaged in your impulsive habit but today, you will dig out whatever dignity you have left and dust off your mask of pride. Put it on!
You cannot walk in your heels of confidence just yet but the cloak of humility has never looked better.
The next time you ever go back on your word after much thought, coaching and common sense, I will bury you alive.
Retrospect is a gift you have been given, use it to your advantage. I cannot have parts of me in tatters when I have worked so hard to put back together your self esteem. Do not undo my hard work.
I am part of your personality one of the positive characteristics that still exits. Yes, dignity, pride, humility and esteem, we had an emergency meeting in your moment of weakness. The floride in your toothpaste has not slowed you down but it seems to have accentuated the coon or the potential desperate housewife in you.
We have invested in overthinking and the occasional walk on the common to get you out of this emotional downward spiral you are content in dragging yourself into.
Read a book, write again and stop tweeting...but no! You do what you feel. Clearly age does not come with maturity but we are working on it.
We are aware it is winter, wrap up warm and escape into the world of literary devices, possibly relearning grammar and work.
The past is a wonderful illusion that you love to drown yourself in, but you have not utilised these moments in a positive way, rather they seem to have a negative effect on you.
This mirror, called your diary, try reading it. It will help you. This is your most honest place. We'll review your improvement in 3 months time.
Victoria Awosode is synonymous with Seun Amusan.
Let The Games Begin
Stranger: You know I can take you out on a date.
Me: No thanks. I'm happily single.
Stranger: Don't live to regret this!
Me: My last regret was 5 ft 9, do you want me to add you to the list.
Stranger: No maam!
Jogger's Knee
Tensions run high in my house, other than the fact that all four females menstruation cycles are synchronised around the same time, we are very opinionated individuals who require a lot of space.
You need space, the oestrogen level in my house is too much, and there's enough heat to pop any popcorn seed when having a 'discussion', even when discussing medical remedies for one with jogger's knee.
I sit for many hours of the day, working on something...it could be a project, a blog, artwork...everything my mother consider's a hobby and what I refer to as 'self-employment. I have a knee injury in which I am very sure I incurred ever since I decided to jog, as you do when you are less mobile and you start to freak out over weight gain. From previous posts, you will realise I am terrible at jogging, believe it or not you can jog wrongly and I am one of those hopeless joggers. I don't have a trainer so I've resulted in avoiding it all together. So here I am resting my leg and yet I know the muscles in my knee are still inflamed, I've gone to the doctors and I'm told rest and rest some more and hey there are some drugs you can take to help you with the pain.
I personally avoid drugs because I know the food I eat which I have no control over as I am self-employed is poison anyway, if not poison, the combinations and lack of variety can send you to an early grave. Why would I add some more? And that description led to an argument. The old and new collide. Wisdom from an elder is essential in life but sometimes you just have to except, the individuals you live with are stuck in their own ways and whatever new knowledge you have gained doesn't make you an expert, knowledgeable or enlightened, you're just another reading sibling and guess what everyone else reads too.
Daugther of a Migrant
I cannot stress how important it is to instil self confidence into a child, no matter where you are from, what colour you are or faith system you participate in. I am also sick and tired of people telling me to 'move on' or to 'get over' my childhood traumas. Certain problems need to be discussed, that may be the only way I can heal those wounds. I do not know how many times it will take for me to have a good 'ol conversation with my girlfriends...cry myself to sleep or simply be angry at the world before I move on and get over it already!
I also do not want to be ill advised and asked to 'pray' away my problems...avoid being the angry black woman. I get angry sometimes, not because I am black, not because I am not 'lady-like'. Fortunately I do not represent the black community, everyone has different experiences, I happened to have a terrible childhood. People are intelligent enough to know that I am simply a person....that happens to have feelings and it is perfectly normal.
Yes, I get passionate, my voice increases in volume and in pitch when I am discussing a topic close to my heart. One of those topics is the terrible schooling system that I was subjected to, from nursery to secondary school. Traumatised, self-hating, low self-esteemed girls in pubescent stages of their lives , all slammed into one building with equally menopausal crazy mortgage-paying teachers.
That's an entire five years of your life...pretty much defending yourself, physically and emotionally just because you want to learn. I have been upset at my mother for a very long time...trying to get her to understand the difference between raised in a black bubble and waking up to a white-mare. It is difficult. I am beginning to believe I wasn't made for England, I wasn't made for this cold climate and mentally it is driving me crazy. I am constantly deficient of vitamin D and I have never experienced the sun from an African climate.
If I hear one more African, telling me how difficult it would be if I returned to my country of origin, I might just kill a person. Did my parents not live there, Are my relatives not surviving? Did my parents not survive over here? What is so terrible about a country you live in?! It is good enough for you, so why is it not good enough for me?!
Can you believe, I am stuck in the West and I want to get out...whilst people are drowning in the process of getting to the land of 'opportunity'. It is no more the land of opportunity folks. We all want to leave! I want to leave, I'd happily trade places. I have no idea how I'd adapt but I'd like to be given the option.
I had to listen to myself, recall a horrifying story whilst my friends were over this weekend. I remember lying to a teacher in school, how I'd flown to Nigeria in the Summer, rode on an elephant and swam in the 'brown' ocean. As imaginative, a child can be, this is sad one. It is a sad story of a young child playing with stereotypes she has been fed by the media, a white world, a white-mare. This teacher was definitely white and of course loved telling the low-income kids he taught in a school in Jamaica and even attempted an accent. Whilst me, unprivileged child, had to dream and make up stories of a country I have yet to step foot in, the country that my parents came from. I remember that day like yesterday. My father was told the story, normally my over-zealous Christian father would have warned me of the perils of hell fire and lying. Not this time! How shameful. Your child has to make up stories from what she has seen on TV about her heritage.
Self image is important. If you accept yourself, your esteem is built, giving you the confidence required to overcome obstacles you will be faced with in life. Black girls are not beautiful in the UK. That is what we are taught. It is changing, but it would change much quickly, if our meek Christian peace making mothers would teach us about the world we live in and the world we are from.
A Poem From Way Back (God Knows When)
There's no war between us
Because I can't win this fight
I'm on the losing side
A battle of the mind
My heart can't decide
My soul is giving in
There's no war between us
You've disarmed me with your bullet of words
And my heart has no amour any more
I've been warned many times before
Never let your guard down
All those walls, then what is love for?
Little did I know, behind those suitor's eyes
The disillusionment of my own demise
Infatuation can be a strange device
Faltering all the plans I ever had
There are no blue helmet troops
Your defiant ass won't call it truce
My peacemaking efforts are of no use
Now I'm the target of constant abuse
I can't win this war. I plan to lose.
There's no war between us
Because I can't win this fight
I'm on the losing side
A battle of the mind
My heart can't decide
My soul is giving in
There's no war between us
You've disarmed me with your bullet of words
And my heart has no amour any more
I've been warned many times before
Never let your guard down
All those walls, then what is love for?
Little did I know, behind those suitor's eyes
The disillusionment of my own demise
Infatuation can be a strange device
Faltering all the plans I ever had
There are no blue helmet troops
Your defiant ass won't call it truce
My peacemaking efforts are of no use
Now I'm the target of constant abuse
I can't win this war. I plan to lose.
There's no war between us
With Art Comes Some Responsibility - My Unedited Honest Thoughts on 12 Years A Salve Release
I recently got into a Facebook 'tiff' with a friend of mine,
over the 12 Years A Slave Trailer.
I am up for a good ol’ historical based movie but after
watching Quentin Tarantino's ‘Django Unchained‘ and cringing at the trailer of
Lee Daniel's ‘Butler’, I'm fed up. As soon as The Help came out, I was told in
advance that there would be a wave of post civil right movement movies, along with
a slew of slavery movies.
The Civil Right movement and Slavery story is important, it
should be acknowledge and as Steve McQueen stated in the Tiff Press Interview, the
story needs to be told more accurately. How a story is told is often determined
by who is telling the story which will at some point, translate into the film.
I guess he was referring to author of 12 years A Slave, on which the book is
based upon, authored by Solomon Northup, despite the fact the script was
written by John Ridley.
My friend didn’t understand why I had chosen not to watch
the film and challenged my decision by defending Steve McQueen’s work as ‘art’.
I understand that art can be subjective and open to different perspectives and
opinions. I for one believe that we all have a choice to make and with those
choices come consequences. So, if you choose to direct a slavery film and it
happens to be released all in one go, along with other civil right movie films,
you need to question why this is the case, which other observant individuals
like myself did.
The issue isn’t the story so much, it’s rather the attention
it gets. Why is it that when a black character is a slave or struggling to
achieve something post civil rights movement, this is award winning material.
When other stories are told, which explore a variety of black images or roles,
normally positive stories, it is not acknowledged. If Steve McQueen really
wanted to talk about an honest depiction of African culture/history, we have
plenty of material that spans more years than the period Africans were enslaved
for.
I respect McQueen’s craft, I am a huge fan of his work but as
a black British director, I would have thought with all the struggling black
actors out there, out of respect for the craft, you would acknowledge a huge
problem in Hollywood and the British film industry. This problem is the
typecasting of black actors and actresses, the lack of funding for writers and
directors whenever they come up with projects that are far from the usual stereotypes.
It is a difficult task to find a major film project that includes an all-black
cast, without a lead white actor.
No doubt, this is changing. There have been ground breaking YouTube
series, such as ‘Awkward Black Girl’ and the ‘Black and Sexy’ channel and the
recent release of ‘Mother of George’ and ‘Half of a Yellow Sun’, which have
done amazingly well at the Sundance Festival this year and for ’Pariah’, in
2012.
I am beginning to think that if I am going to see more of
myself in film, I need to look for an indie movie, or possibly Nollywood,
Ghollywood and so on. I do not consider slavery as my history. My parents were not
taught about civil rights as they were brought up in Nigeria, whilst their
child was subjected to a half-baked fallacy called ‘Black History Month’ in Eurocentric education system.
Fortunately, my parents were big of education and reading, so I quickly learnt
that ‘Black History Month’ was utter rubbish.
Film is a great way to teach and tell stories and as much as
it’s someone’s art form or a way to a express themselves, the audience is also
important. Who is going to watch these films and what message is it sending?
For the black community, it sends a rather grim message that our stories are
limited and when positive, it doesn’t sell, it’s not important.
My friend also thought of my views as separatist when I
stated, I would support my own when it came to film. I agree, it can come
across as I would rather we were segregated in terms of film. Well, right now, that is what it is come to. And more power to them. I think a lot of people of African descent are tired of being used for a larger political backdrop, tired of pleasing an old white man at the top somewhere. We want to own our own shit. Is that too much to ask?
Orange is the new Black is a perfect example of when all
nationalities are not used as tokenism, but the most recent introduction of OITNB’s
star, Danielle Brooks in American TV series, Girls, is questionable. I’m sure a lot of people like myself
will be on the edge of their seats waiting for something ridiculous to happen when
Girls airs. I for one never campaigned for the characters to be more diverse,
because this is an honest portrayal of Lena Dunham’s experience.
Is it wrong for an all-black cast to release a normal
experience of themselves? No. Does it have to be dubbed as segregation? No.
Have we not been watching all white casts for a lifetime? Yes. So why are my
views so extreme?
The Art of Commenting
Recently, I have become more active on social media, joining
the conversation online. I am active in other things, but literally as a
freelance writer, it is my job to sit behind a laptop and write a bunch of
articles, so why not interact with other readers and writers online? I've
discovered I can go a little overboard, so mentally I've set up a mini
guideline for myself.
We all have opinions and at one point, in our social interaction
life we engage in digital dialogue which includes commentary. To be clear, I am
talking about the comments left underneath article. We enjoy giving our
feedback, criticisms and leaving comments below articles.
It seems that the commentators of these digital
conversations can range from the well informed contributor to the downright
rude and unintelligent mass of cyber bullies. I consider myself, an informed
contributor who is very opinionated but open to conversation but definitely not
a cyber bully.
Think before you write and relax, it's just a comment!
Think before you write and relax, it's just a comment!
However, I am learning not to take my commenting efforts too
seriously. It’s in my nature to be passionate, have an impulsive reaction which
may involve me hurriedly putting together a tirade of words to get my point
across. Avoid this! Commenting requires time and thought. You want a concise,
correctly punctuated comment with facts. There are other readers out there who
are just as knowledgeable and you don’t want to be made a mockery of online.
You can't take back a tweet!
You can't take back a tweet!
More seriously, with the internet, the world is even smaller.
The internet has come a long way since the 90’s, a never ending black hole of
information that is stored away in the secret libraries, amassing a host of classified
information. It is important to choose your words carefully while posting
comments. The grammar police are not the only ones watching out for
illegal activity, they might be concerned about the abusive use of the apostrophe
but you may find yourself in an actual police station, if you are tweeting
inappropriate one liners. It wasn't so long ago when a boy was arrested for
tweeting distasteful remarks on the British
olympic swimmer, Tom Daley's performance.
If you were wrong, there's no point in bickering!
I recently commented on article to do with colorism in
Brazil and a day later I checked to see what the responses were and oh my oh
my, I was accused of ‘white racism’. I’m assuming the individual who replied
was white so I won’t even get into that.
One thing I hate when reading comments, yes, if you engage
in commenting, you have a tendency to read them too. I hate the bickering over
useless arguments. Although useless arguments are subjective, I think the
bickering is a result of becoming even more defensive when you are in the wrong
and someone has called you out on your inaccuracy. As soon as I was accused of white racism, I
simply ignored the individual and continued about my day until this post. I don’t
consider myself a racist, well, I’m sure all racists don’t consider themselves
as racist either but hey! There was no point of replying the enthusiastic commenter;
I doubt we will ever meet. Besides the commentator’s
accusatory statement, he made other observations which were valid. I am not
perfect, I must admit the comment I made was flawed and it could have been
written in a clearer and coherent manner to avoid confusion but it wasn’t and
life goes on.
Now for the comments. J
Truism
I am at that age, where you start to question everything. Back to square one. Again. It doesn't end at nursery level...we continue when our teenage years come to an end and reality kicks in. When we realise we don't know it all, we see our parents as vulnerable, we admit they know something but not everything. You've left uni, you're jobless and you're trying to navigate your way through life and with it comes questions. Philosophical ones, unanswered ones, difficult ones.
One of the questions I ask often, stems from my obsession with identity opening other viaducts of argument and conversation. It's a continuous internal struggle of insecurities that I am constantly trying to pummle into the ground...along with my embarrassing moments. Whatever excuse I try to invent or whatever remedy I try and plaster this gaping internal wound with, I find myself questioning. It's become almost impossible to find a sense of satisfaction in an equally inadequate world. I don't even know who to ask. I haven't attempted God because I am told, there are questions God cannot answer and that maybe I should wait until I get to heaven and all will be revealed then. But how can i even think of a God to question when I'm not even sure I follow a God. Do i believe in Him? Sometimes I think God is a made-up word, a huge mysterious cover up to hide our lack of knowledge. I've gotten to the point where I am grateful for the faith and disgusted by it at the same time (the Christian faith).
Every once in a while, the being, universe, creator, energy or all knowing omnipresent creature matters to me. I ask myself, "Why don't I pray?", "How do I acknowledge Him/It?" It's a tiring task to follow a religion. It's illogical and can only be tapped into or understood when you choose to believe or take on some type of spiritual responsibility. But I am not searching for some greater truth, I am trying to get on with life. Some say, the blueprint to life, desinity and your ultimate purpose lies within this European painted lie they sold to us, written in two books that was shoved down my throat in Sunday school. I listened intentively to this carefully constructed story. Brainwashed into thinking this was all there was and everything else should not be considered just in case my faith was swayed. Well now! I have read some things and my faith has swayed, the inevitable has been set into motion and I am comfortable.
I can't even summon my mother to arrange a marraige for me. How would she describe her daughter? A non-practising Christian, who frequently fornicates and believes in the God before Judaism, Islam and Christianity?
I might aswell form my own religion. That's borderline charismatic!
I am neither an agnostic or an atheist, but somewhere in between with an actual belief in God. Hence, I am not even in-between. Reminds me of a guardian article, written by Andrew Brown, which commented on the different types of atheism. These categories have been recently created to fit in these new forms of atheism. To be honest, I felt the term 'intellectual atheist' was insulting to the other categories. Does it matter what box I fit into? I may not even qualify in any category. I just feel a need to have a description to describe what my faith status is because my very beautiful cultural familia can't seem to accept my views or my belief system. I am discovering it myself, so how could I possibly explain what it is?
I am neither an agnostic or an atheist, but somewhere in between with an actual belief in God. Hence, I am not even in-between. Reminds me of a guardian article, written by Andrew Brown, which commented on the different types of atheism. These categories have been recently created to fit in these new forms of atheism. To be honest, I felt the term 'intellectual atheist' was insulting to the other categories. Does it matter what box I fit into? I may not even qualify in any category. I just feel a need to have a description to describe what my faith status is because my very beautiful cultural familia can't seem to accept my views or my belief system. I am discovering it myself, so how could I possibly explain what it is?
Welcome to the Lab: A Writer's Bluff
garbage_can_with_crumpled_paper_pano_12811.jpg)
Read
Get some experience
Write
Edit
Re-read a day or two later and re-edit
Start a blog
Set up Google Analytics
Post a post
Read the comments
Create a pen name/gimmick/concept
Check for responses
Promote Blog
Learn how to use Photoshop
Buy a camera
Sign up to every conceivable social networking site that exists
Keep posting
Freak out over content
Buy a Key Stage 3 Guide in grammar
Learn how to pronounce those polysyllabic words you keep using
Writer's block
Writer's block
Get some inspiration
"You go to museums now?"
"Yes I do..."
Ask yourself why you post
Compare articles
Check viewership numbers
Enter a writing competition
Start a 'Word of the Day' challenge
Join a writing workshop
Join a writing workshop
Set up another blog
Start a book club
Give a talk
Write
Get published - on Kindle that is
Write some more
Don't stop
Just write
Is it for recognition, for artistic purposes or for the pleasure?
I forgot hash-tag and label
I forgot hash-tag and label
A pile of books
So, my mother was wading through all the junk in storage and amongst the junk, 70 per cent of that junk, consists of endless piles of books. Some of which I have come across and generally seem like a good read, others, not so much.
It's actually quite emotional going through the books as it reminds me of where we were as a family. These books date back to the late 80s (ownership that is not necessarily the publishing date).
Let me 'write' you through a typical find.
Bluff Your Way into Management
The Facts on Holistic Health and the New Medicine - Can You Trust Your Doctor?
Should Christians Drink?
The Ultimate Guide to the Internet for the Christian Family
Quite a find isn't it?
Now, How to Bluff Your Way Into Management was either my father's or one of his many friends he stored a lot of things for. This did have me chuckling for a few seconds. I mean, really? The Bluffer's Guide? And if you look carefully at the picture above, you can tell it's a dated book considering the red brick phone plastered on the front cover. Well, I guess it has a catchy title, it made me want to read it. It turns out The Bluffer's Guide has a collection of books, the equivalent to the 'For Dummies' collection.
The Holistic Health book was probably my mother's, considering she is a trained nurse. Interesting find. I've been hearing the word 'holistic' repeatedly for the past five months. I'll give this book a go...it's a short read, thankfully!
Should Christians Drink?
Well, the tag line is a total give away - 'The Case for Total Abstinence'. This could be either my mother's or father's, considering they were both very active members of the church and we religiously had to attend almost every day of the week. My mother, a children's Sunday school teacher and my father, a minister.
I say drink and be responsible. So much much for church and a book.
Interenet for the Christian Family, this was definitely bought in the early 90s when the internet was introduced to us, ordinary folk. I have come across a few of these internet guides around the house. It was fairly new back then, it sounds hilarious doesn't it - a guide? For the internet? But a Christian Guide??? That just takes the biscuit and it's 401 pages long with a glossary. Ok. I'm done.
Rant
Disclaimer: It’s 6:08 right now in London. If you’ve had a successful run, you are listening to J Cole Born Sinner and generally feeling progressive, successful or just in a good mood…don’t read any further. Judging from the tittle, clearly I am feeling a little defeated.
I must say for the past 2 weeks, I’ve had a fairly regular attempt at jogging. I can’t jog for more than 5 minutes but at least between the stopping and gliding my feet across the concrete paths of The Common, ever so slowly, I just about bagged a mile. How do you sweat from that? LOL Well I managed to…muffin top, love handles and all that lagging behind me.
Halfway through my run. I sat down on a bench and listened to Rich Niggaz by J cole:
Who you had to kill, who you have to rob/Who you had to fuck just to make it to the top dammit.
Head in hands I realised this guy is reminiscing about his past; all he can talk about his experiences, from show to show, hotel to hotel from another first class flight to another. I wondered about my amateurish criticisms about how bad the world is, how difficult the system is, how the government is a dead end solution to the supposed ‘chaos’ of a world we are trying to control in the name of ‘democracy’. If I finally do make it to the ‘top’ (whatever that is?); what will be my response to this post in 10 years’ time?
All these applications, set back upon set back because I’ve bought into a dream. A dream? This is a planned out execution of survival plan C. Revising goals and mapping out my next move so one day I can recite Rich Niggaz and can only relate because the mortgage payment has left me penniless for the rest of the month.
Sometimes you have to ask yourself ‘How bad do you want it?’. What have I done to show that I want to meet this goal? How hard have I worked? I can’t really remember the last time I’ve had to prove that I’m perfect for something. I’m comfortable in my space but then again I am not. I think I’m mentally accepting of my situation because I know whatever progression I make, the fear and anxiety of failure will always be there. It’s a healthy thought; it’s what makes you ambitious. However, it’s also a double edged sword and it’s all down to you. The responsibility is yours and the only person you can answer to is yourself and yet again that same anxious feeling can stop you dead in your tracks.
I guess I’m growing up. Everyday my lines etch into my face, overthinking and less doing. Doing and not thinking enough. I’ve Learnt new lessons because I never paid enough attention to detail. I’m waiting for the day I get it right and my life is balanced out and there are no surprises. I prefer to sit on the edge of my seat because of effort and time; waiting for feedback because I’ve put something out in the universe rather than collecting a week full of wasted days.
This has happened to me. I’ve sat and hours and days have passed and I can’t account for anything. What exactly have I done today? Nothing. That is such a disappointing reply. Fine. You’ve worked all week your tired and you’re taking a break. LOL I’m always taking a break and I promise myself I’ll do better. I’ll do better.
I don’t hope and pray anymore. Only in arguments I sit on the fence. In work there is no neutrality, you either do it or you don’t. I’m not sure where this post is going. But I have found the best way to avoid being bitter and curling up in a pity party is to work! Whatever it is you want to do or you are supposed to do, do it! When you are active in your achievements, you have less time to worry about the unknown. Stay focused.
An Unsuccessful Run
I've bought the gear, the running gear that is. A branded pair of leggings and running trainers and they are used from time to time.
And recently, I plucked up the courage to squeeze myself into those spandex of tights, squeezing my cellulite thighs into them and attempted to run in broad daylight. I must say when I see an overweight individual running alongside the common, I think it is wonderful. I cheer them on in my head but then I see their hanging bellies chugging along and wonder if that is me.
Am I one of those out of breath runners people stare at in pity? I mean last saturday morning I barely ran half a mile. For about 10 minutes, I ran halfway to the common from my house, walked the rest, well into the park, put on my mean mug and jogged, slowly. Is that jogging or walking really fast with a spring to your step? No, it was jogging because I did break into a sweat after a while.
After 3 minutes, I stopped. I couldn't breathe. I really don't know how to breathe when I am running and I did scour the net for techniques beforehand. I typed in the search engine "how to breathe when running"..."breathing + running + stretching + warm up...". Evidently, none of the advice worked and my research later on revealed, I had a headache because my brain was starved of oxygen.
Closing my mouth and breathing through my nose proved challenging, especially when a stitch decided to pierce my side and ran through it. Never mind my knees. I stand at 5 ft 7. Not tall enough but enough to struggle with appropriating a decent stride. How do you do that? How does one jogg effectively, better yet, properly?
I need a trainer.
I have some questions.
How long do you run for when it's your first time?
How do you force yourself to continue?
How do you run without headphones in your ears and stay motivated?
How do you run without thinking of the many passer-bys staring at your wobbly ass? I know they do it because I do it too.
I think most of these questions are self conscious issues and motivational problems I need to tackle and it can only be dealt with when I run.
However, I was proud of my 5 -10 minutue half jog. It's Wednesday. I might even try and jog this evening. As long as it's dog free and it doesn't slobber over my spandex. Yes, that happened!
And recently, I plucked up the courage to squeeze myself into those spandex of tights, squeezing my cellulite thighs into them and attempted to run in broad daylight. I must say when I see an overweight individual running alongside the common, I think it is wonderful. I cheer them on in my head but then I see their hanging bellies chugging along and wonder if that is me.
Am I one of those out of breath runners people stare at in pity? I mean last saturday morning I barely ran half a mile. For about 10 minutes, I ran halfway to the common from my house, walked the rest, well into the park, put on my mean mug and jogged, slowly. Is that jogging or walking really fast with a spring to your step? No, it was jogging because I did break into a sweat after a while.
After 3 minutes, I stopped. I couldn't breathe. I really don't know how to breathe when I am running and I did scour the net for techniques beforehand. I typed in the search engine "how to breathe when running"..."breathing + running + stretching + warm up...". Evidently, none of the advice worked and my research later on revealed, I had a headache because my brain was starved of oxygen.
Closing my mouth and breathing through my nose proved challenging, especially when a stitch decided to pierce my side and ran through it. Never mind my knees. I stand at 5 ft 7. Not tall enough but enough to struggle with appropriating a decent stride. How do you do that? How does one jogg effectively, better yet, properly?
I need a trainer.
I have some questions.
How long do you run for when it's your first time?
How do you force yourself to continue?
How do you run without headphones in your ears and stay motivated?
How do you run without thinking of the many passer-bys staring at your wobbly ass? I know they do it because I do it too.
I think most of these questions are self conscious issues and motivational problems I need to tackle and it can only be dealt with when I run.
However, I was proud of my 5 -10 minutue half jog. It's Wednesday. I might even try and jog this evening. As long as it's dog free and it doesn't slobber over my spandex. Yes, that happened!
Kosi
DISCLAMER:
IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED READING AMERICANNAH BY CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHE. EXIT
THIS PAGE NOW!!!
I
have mourned the ending of Americannah and I have carried the characters with
me. Now I am psychoanalysing my life, relationships and job prospects in the
eyes of Ifemelu, affectionately shortened to Ifem. I remember the calmness of
Obinze in past lovers and ache for a union such as theirs. In fact, I have
almost come to despise the main characters because their love story seemed realistic and somehow they managed to triumph over their obstacles in an inception(al) ending
– get it? (Terrible. I know) This is something I am yet to experience and truthfully I am closest to that of Aunty Uju and Kosi.
Kosi is the nonchalant wife to Obinze in later what can be described as an unhappy marriage. I entitled this piece Kosi because I am all for the underdog. We all root for the
underdog from time to time, the person who has all odds stacked against them
but you are supportive regardless. Think Arsenal fan, you’re out of the premier
league, Chelsea are to play against Queen Park Rangers (QPR); you root for QPR, the underdog.
I am
not a pretentious housewife and I am aware this story
is fictional but I still rooted for Kosi. I deliberately tried to like her and
identify with Kosi. I imposed her story on myself; the housewife who is fully aware she has bought into a dream that her husband never wanted.
Why?
As much as I love to play devil's advocate and run to the defence of others. I
think sometimes we deem ourselves undeserving of fairy-tale endings. We
know we are settling or whatever feelings we have for a certain person may not be
mutual but we stay anyway because it’s the ‘right’ thing to do or we are satisfied with what we have. Kosi likes her
life but is insecure within a limited kind of love (check out James Blake)
and guards her marriage ruthlessly (no single ladies allowed in her house) but
she is hopeful. I do not pity Kosi’s character; I get it. These love stories in
books and in movies are hardly going to translate into reality, so why
bother myself with the complexities of it, isn't life complicated enough
already?
Kosi
may not have been an intellectually inclined ambitious career woman and all she seemed to be was a domestic goddess with
a pretty face and that is enough for some. I believe Adichie was tackling the cultural landscape of Nigeria, which stamps on their women this notion that your ultimate goal in life is marriage and children, to be a helper to your mate; compromising personal gratification for an image. I believe the character Kosi, knew of the other types of women who defy those ideas and fight against those traditional beliefs which she chose not to challenge. Sometimes it is enough to be neutral, to "sit on the
fence" and excuse one for not being opinionated enough. It is also acceptable to hold opposing views. Kosi knows what she wanted, a comfortable life and she got it. Only that her husband expected her to suddenly change from her self-absorbed materialistic self ,after they married and wounded up not unhappy but not entirely sure of his marriage.
I
rooted for Kosi even though I wouldn't necessarily follow her idea of what a marriage or what life in general should be like. For all the Kosi(s) out there…not willing to
politicise everything and would rather stay glamorous and cook, find yourself a
mannish 1950s somebody and runaway from indecisive romantics like Obinze.
There are plenty of men out there who want you to be subdued and mild. But
thank God towards the end, Obinze realised that Kosi wasn’t some empty headed
bimbo, she had some intuition and in fact it takes a certain amount of
intelligence to watch all the bullshit go down and still hold it together. We
said our vows, now let us be miserable together.
I mean…I rooted for Kosi, the wife but mistresses and past lovers be
winning.
Let Hair
Tolani walked up the grey and yellow tinted steps, holding firmly to the bus' bright yellow banister. Despite taking caution, her legs failed her as she smashed into the grey plastic surface behind a seat.
One of those days Tolani thought to herself gritting her teeth, closing her eyes shut and willing the pain to exhume itself from her knee. The bus continued to jerk around as it was met with speed bumps. She didn't bother to pick up her bag. She just watched the worn green handles bounce around in a synchronised fashion, wondering if the left and extremely frayed handle would make it through the day.
"St Matthews Church". The bus announced solemnly. "Late, late again." Tolani murmured to herself.
"My menopausal state and uninspiring first from Newnham College has not prepared me for your perpetual lateness and phenomenal display of disorganisation..." Mrs. C's rants were legendary. Tolani was either going to be her next target or faced with a locked door.
Clambering down the stairs in an attempt to catch her next bus. Pop! Tolani lifted her bag off the ground and held on tightly to it, clenching her underarms in race for the number 2. 10 minutes to the gate she thought as her phone vibrated, indicating her final bar had disappeared and was left with a blinking red outline. Breathing deeply, a Herbal Essence mist wafted past her. A lady had unraveled her bun. She watched as the woman tosseled her hair about and proceeded in styling it back to its original state. Tolani stared therapeutically as she caught all the escaping strands until all she saw was the brown spiral, and then finally a glossy brown patch of colour which soon became a blur.
"Upper Tulse Hill..." the bus cooed mockingly. Tolani squeezed passed the passengers and headed for the gates. She ignored the front desk's glare and walked briskly but had to stop to readjust her bag. Thankfully the classroom door was locked and she headed for the toilets.
"I look so tired..." she whispered, analysing her reflection, clear face, bags, wonky eyeliner and hair, just hair, a lot of it. "Grrr!" Tolani growled. No glossy strands here. Her bun wasn't straight, her hair was a combination of regrowth, riddled with thinning permed split ends. Pulling out her hairband painfully, the elastic etched away by her brittle hair.
POP!
"For fuck sakes!" Tolani exclaimed. Walking over to the radiator, bent over looking for a spare hairband. None today I guess. Only me. Leaning back to stretch as she held on to her hips, making sure she heard at least 3 cracks before she continued to drag her fingers into her thick entangled hair. You know what? I can't be asked. Tolani stormed out of the bathroom and returned shortly after to collect her bag.
"St Matthews Church". The bus announced solemnly. "Late, late again." Tolani murmured to herself.
"My menopausal state and uninspiring first from Newnham College has not prepared me for your perpetual lateness and phenomenal display of disorganisation..." Mrs. C's rants were legendary. Tolani was either going to be her next target or faced with a locked door.
Clambering down the stairs in an attempt to catch her next bus. Pop! Tolani lifted her bag off the ground and held on tightly to it, clenching her underarms in race for the number 2. 10 minutes to the gate she thought as her phone vibrated, indicating her final bar had disappeared and was left with a blinking red outline. Breathing deeply, a Herbal Essence mist wafted past her. A lady had unraveled her bun. She watched as the woman tosseled her hair about and proceeded in styling it back to its original state. Tolani stared therapeutically as she caught all the escaping strands until all she saw was the brown spiral, and then finally a glossy brown patch of colour which soon became a blur.
"Upper Tulse Hill..." the bus cooed mockingly. Tolani squeezed passed the passengers and headed for the gates. She ignored the front desk's glare and walked briskly but had to stop to readjust her bag. Thankfully the classroom door was locked and she headed for the toilets.
"I look so tired..." she whispered, analysing her reflection, clear face, bags, wonky eyeliner and hair, just hair, a lot of it. "Grrr!" Tolani growled. No glossy strands here. Her bun wasn't straight, her hair was a combination of regrowth, riddled with thinning permed split ends. Pulling out her hairband painfully, the elastic etched away by her brittle hair.
POP!
"For fuck sakes!" Tolani exclaimed. Walking over to the radiator, bent over looking for a spare hairband. None today I guess. Only me. Leaning back to stretch as she held on to her hips, making sure she heard at least 3 cracks before she continued to drag her fingers into her thick entangled hair. You know what? I can't be asked. Tolani stormed out of the bathroom and returned shortly after to collect her bag.
A Wedding Song
It's a day before my friend's wedding...I'm not sure whether I'll be called up to sing but this is what I have thus far...
I crossed an ocean, I crossed a river to get to you
It's written in the stars, it was inevitable
The people I meet the paths that I cross
And I still found you...
It's sounds good when sung I guess lol
I crossed an ocean, I crossed a river to get to you
It's written in the stars, it was inevitable
The people I meet the paths that I cross
And I still found you...
It's sounds good when sung I guess lol
The To do List of Life
I guess I've pretty much neglected this blog but I'm back...
I've been writing for Afriversal, a blog about all things African in the UK. Check it out!
But I definitely have a lot more to write about and this is where my new project comes in.
The 'To Do List' of Life is a concept I recently came up with. Yup, I had a light bulb moment and this is normally where my problems begin...I have an idea.
I thing we all have a long list of things we want to do, whether it be a SMART goal, dreams and aspirations we haven't gotten round to yet. My 'To do list' is endless and I guess I overwhelm myself because I want to do everything and I can...but there is a time and a place...
I am creating a subsidiary site dedicated to this project...noting my milestones in completing these tasks.
I'm not talking about taking out the trash or finally getting round to cleaning my room (will never happen...I need mess to work...but I do take out the rubbish). I'm talking major projects like completing one of my short stories, going to the studio and recording a song...learning how to sew a dress out of the material my sister bought from India type of tasks.
As you might have gathered, I am the artsy and creative type and I am bursting with ideas but it takes me a while to get to end product or I get a little frustrated and postpone but not anymore! I plan to be diligent for the rest of the year and actually finish some of these projects.
So follow me on my journey, tweet me...tumble your way into my life...facebook...call...bbm. me...comment and support me on my journey.
More details to come shortly.
Amusan
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