Half and Half

Beginnings and Endings...

2011-12-31T23:45:00.003Z

Hi Guys,

F here... For the last time. It's the first day of a new year- perfect time to embrace the new and let go of the old. Blogging was a great thing for me to do at a certain stage of my life but I'm afraid I'm just over it now. I do not, in any way, mean to patronise others who still wish to blog. it's just not for me anymore. At first, I thought it was writer's block but even when I am inspired to write, I just don't have the desire to share it online anymore. This chapter was fun, interesting and quite informative. I've read challenging, annoying and just plain hilarious pieces and comments on this blog and others. It just happens that this chapter is over. For me. I keep telling M that this doesn't necessarily mean that M has to stop too but she's pretty adamant. CONVINCE HER!

Have a fruitful new year, guys.

Kisses,

...

Yo Mensss... M in the Hizhouse!!!!

Lol!! (i'm seriously going to miss doing that)
So its a new year, Happy new year peoples!!!

So as F has said we are quitting the blog, I am seriously going to miss blogging, it has been an AHMAZING (amazing) experience, I have had soo much fun blogging but Half and Half is a two people blog and to be truthful I think that I am a little over blogging... I mean i love to blog, but somehow I just don't think that I have the time to blog anymore, after all I am a masters student, i mean, I should be focusing on school. But no worries I"ll always be around, dropping a comment here and there..

I am going to miss you guys.. but most of all I am going to miss Hibari chan ==> Our blog mascot!! (Chai I want to cry a little now)

Have an Amazing year guys..

Nigerian Anti-Gay law.. Carry go JARE

2011-12-01T20:49:00.007Z

Gosh, I was not planning to blog at all today but after doing my daily blog check… I felt that I had to say my piece concerning the Anti-Gay law.

Nigeria has so much to worry about right now; Boko Haram, the fuel subsidy, poverty, eliminating corruption etc. (come on guys we know that this list can go on forever). But the Nigerian Government has decided to pass this Anti gay law, which punishes anyone who is gay or anyone who aids and abets gay marriage in Nigeria.

I mean SERIOUSLY we have so much to worry about at the moment and this is the item that is on the top of the senate’s priority list it just shows how warped the government is. That they would rather focus on this issue as opposed to the plethora of problems facing us as a nation…

I don’t want to discuss the morality of Homosexuality because at the end of the day I am somewhat prejudiced because I am a Christian and it is clearly stated in the bible that it is wrong. But one thing I always say is that the Bible commands us to love your neighbor as yourself and I apply this to things and people that I do not understand. Just love the people around you, if they are gay or not how does it affect you? The way that Nigerians talk about this issue it’s as though the gay people are raping all of them at the same time. Please abeg carry yourselves and sit down somewhere, eat a banana and think about your lives.

If someone is gay fine, its their life to live and they should be allowed to live it in anyway that they want because at the end of the day on the day of judgment it is going to be you and God, Its not going to be you, God and a random amebor..

Plus I should mention, that I was, am and will forever be disgusted by how rude and ignorant Nigerians are. I was on Linda Ikeji’s blog and I read the article she culled from the CNN by Chude Jideonwo I scrolled down to read the comments (even though I promised myself that I would never read the comments after the whole rape incident) and I was completely disgusted by the level of stupidity and childishness for lack of a better word. The commenters called this dude gay (I don’t know if he is or not) insulted his life all because he did not agree with them.

**SIGH** If you people want you can join me on the cloud of love, love everybody without focusing on our differences (e.g. religion, sexuality, length of Peruvian weave). Trust me Nigeria and the world at large would be so much better of everyone did this…

One of my friends made an awesome comment on twitter a few days ago, She said “God sees no difference between u telling that white lie or calling someone a 'mumu' n a homosexual 'ACT'. All na sin.” So my Nigerian Brothers and Sisters, please Oh, Remove the trailer of firewood in your eyes before you deal with another person’s wahala.

That’s it for me dudes

*** Drops Mic****

Classic F & M...

2011-09-23T22:55:00.000+01:00

Hey guys,

Here we are... Giving you some good old F & M argument... Just like we did when we started this blog... This time, the subject is a two-word phrase- "You're mine". The whole issue got brought up by our previous post... Towards the end of the guy's part, he says

"... I realized that our friendship wasn’t enough. I wanted you, all of you. I wanted you to myself. Whether you know it or not, you’re mine. I would love for you to act according to such but as I haven’t mustered the effrontery to let you know how I feel, I can’t put reins on you."

Now, this part was the bit that resonated most with M... It just made her crazy. ""You're mine" was her favourite line... She kept saying it over and over again. I still have the ringing in my ears from our skype conversation we had about the piece... M- grown woman, Masters student- squealing... LOL... It was hilarious. I want to maintain, however, that this post has nothing to do with the actual piece... I referred to it to explain how this conversation started. I don't think the character in that post is the kind of guy I'm talking about... Moving on sha...

Now, I've always known that M has a bit of a thing for "bad boys"... The ones that blow hot and cold... "Take control"... The "alpha male", basically... And there's no problem with that. Everyone is entitled to his/her opinion. The problem arises when this same person tries to maintain the idea of an independent quasi-feminist who is completely self assured and detests any attempt to control her. This right here, I think doesn't add up. More than just not adding up, I think it is a key inconsistency that most women seem to wear with pride... "I'm strong and independent... But... I still want a man to take control and save me and do this and do that..." The kind of guy that M describes is simply someone you CANNOT have a mature relationship with. Someone who blows hot and cold is not exciting... He is undependable. You cannot plan when you don't know if the guy you're with is suddenly going to decide tomorrow that he wants to screw around on you- then realise his mistake in two weeks. The kind of guy who puts no definition on a relationship but still seeks some kind of ownership... That is not sexy. Not stimulating. It's selfish.

With that being said, I will be the last girl to go down the "I don't need a man" path. I think it's bullshit. Everyone wants someone to get them- a real companion. BUT... I cannot accept that we can be completely independent creatures with our own identities, dreams and fears... Yet, all this goes out of the window when your knees weaken at the prospect of being "claimed". I do not buy the "It's not the words... It's the sentiment behind them..." argument. Surely, if a guy is not being serious in a relationship but is claiming you are his and can't date anyone else, the sentiment is clear. He wants control without giving much back. Either you go down the independent woman path, or jump on the "I need a man to take control" bandwagon... You cannot ride on the latter and stay on the former at the same time... It just makes sense.

I think the problem is that we feel this pressure to be militant feminists sometimes. If you like the kind of guy that sweeps you off your feet and takes control of shit, then go for it. Just don't talk out of both sides of your mouth and claim that you don't take nonsense. After all, he's not your father. You can't like a man saying and acting like he owns you and then claiming you cannot stand that very behaviour. It's confusing at best and hypocritical at worst.

F

M's corner

Ok F and I have had this conversation too many times and F has forced me to put this post up. Ok so for this post I am taking off all my feminist regalia and I am just going to put this out there, so to all the feminists who read this PLEASE OH! Don’t come and shoot me! (LOL)

Ok I’ve always had a thing for very enigmatic men, you know the type of guys that you never know what they’re thinking, what their doing when they are not with you, the type that’s hot and cold – one minute he can not live without me and the next I don’t hear from them in like 2 months. I think it was because I could play their games extremely well and I knew not to get very attached to them. The thing about the game is that each player needs to stake a claim on the other person, it can be done in many ways for some its sex, for others it may be done through material things and lastly through emotional manipulation. In the game the loser is the one that falls deeply for the other player, once that happens the game falls apart and then you reach the point that you have to confront each other about ‘feelings’ if you both feel the same way then the game evolves into a relationship but it you don’t the looser walks away crushed.

Now this is when the you are mine thing comes in; I am not a strong believer in love, love is too abstract a concept for me to grasp, love is something that I feel only towards my family and one or two other friends. Even though I don’t know what love is, it does not mean that I’m not open to it (but that’s a blog post on its own). F finds it weird that I think it’s hot when a guy tells me you are mine, but I feel it is imperative to paint the scene

In my first year of University there was this guy that I was super into but it was just one of those games, he was a lot older than me as he was a masters student but it was all in good fun. We hardly saw each other even though he lived really close by and went to the same school, when we saw each other in public there was never any contact because at that particular point the other didn’t exist however behind closed doors everything was great. But I ended up really liking this guy and when that happened everything unraveled I found out that he was dating this other girl so I had to one up him. I started seeing this other guy (who was his friend) very publicly to ensure that the news got back to him. Eventually one day he cornered me and forced me up into his room and finally we had a very heated conversation about the whole situation. When I asked what this is? (the relationship) he replied, “ You know what this is, it’s you and me and we are US” when I asked about the other girl he was seeing, he said “this has nothing to do with her” and I retorted that my relationship with the other guy had nothing to do with him either. And then he uttered those two words that literally shook me to the bone ‘You’re Mine’and my mind went blank. I think it was because of the honesty in the situation, it wasn’t calculated there were no lies, no promises of love or to leave the other girl. It was just real; we both didn’t know what we wanted from each other

Now when people hear ‘You’re Mine’ they take it as some form of ownership that the guy owns me; my body, my mind and soul. No oh its not that deep no man owns me I am a child of God so there we go. But for me it’s that those two words can convey so much and it has such a deep meaning; I want you, don’t leave me, don’t be with anyone else, I don’t know how I feel about us right now but let me figure it out.

But I should mention that nothing ever came out of the whole thing but it just stayed with me. It was the closest thing to an “I LOVE YOU” that I’ve ever been able to appreciate, understand and reciprocate.It might have been selfish for him to say that but for that moment he was mine, mine to hold with no promises of love or forever but at that moment it was everything he needed to say and all I needed to hear.

I know it seems like I am contradicting myself I mean as a feminist if I was to read about this on anyone else’s blog I would go crazy in the comments but this is where I’m at. To be truthful I’m not the kind of girl that likes men to be all Alpha male and in control in relationships but I like a man who can take control (does that make sense?).

Anyway the situation outlined was a once in a lifetime thing, my taste in men has changed (Thank God) and I’m a lot more mature than I was at the time so may be if i hear it now it’ll be different!

Does anyone understand what I’m getting at or does it sound more like the Masochistic ramblings of a pseudo- feminist psycho?

Let me know in the comments below xxx

NIGERIA I AM ASHAMED….

2011-09-18T19:22:00.005+01:00

DEAR BLOGWORLD AND NIGERIAN BLOGGERS

I am ashamed, I am saddened and I am in fear for our future. Late last night/this morning I came across the information that a woman was gang raped by 5 men and that there was a video going around. People that I know have watched the video ( I personally do not have the link and I do not want to watch the video) but I am sad, this is what Nigeria has come to, Is our Generation going to be known for the death of common decency?

Why would people film such as act, share it with their friends and why is nobody doing anything about it. Out of all the people who watched the damn video can't somebody recognize them and turn them in to the police or something! This BOTHERS ME GREATLY… It bothers me a lot... it deeply burns my heart to see or hear about things like this and know that we Nigerians are keeping quiet about acts like this and/or laughing about them behind closed doors

I am deeply saddened by the level of ignorance that I have seen and heard/seen concerning this issue people are saying the girl deserved it or she didn’t struggle so its not rape or that rape is surprise sex… WHAT!!! What does that even mean? I have heard a lot nonsense like every woman who is raped deserves to be raped, its all the woman’s fault: “she dressed provocatively”, “why did she walk down that road at night” or even in this case that she provoked it by insulting the men that raped her. No matter what happened, no woman, no man, no child deserves to be raped. It goes against our basic human rights. It appalls me to find that my fellow Nigerians can justify a rape. Would they feel the same if it was their daughter, sister, cousin, friend or neighbor? The Nigerian culture subjugates women, Women have less rights than men, our culture and our religion teaches us that the men are our head and we must bow to them. The children learn by watching how adults interact and they themselves don’t understand why it is so but take at face value i.e. a man is stronger and therefore better than a woman and also a woman’s place is in the home and it is the duty of the man to go out and work therefore a man is better than a woman. This is the message that we teach our children; it sneaks into our collective consciousness and becomes the norm. If Nigerian children were taught that we are all equal and nobody is better than the other and everybody has equal rights would the ignorance surrounding this issue lessen? Definitely, in my household we were taught that in regards to my siblings, there is no man or woman, there is a first-born and a last-born and that is what has stayed with me all my life.

Another issue that I feel the need to address is the Voyeuristic AMEBORISH culture that we have in Nigeria. I have always hated it, Nigerians feel the need to know everybody’s business not in order to help them but just to judge them and have something to talk about when they meet up with friends.

Every Tom, Dick and Biliki has watched that video in question but I don’t see anybody doing anything about it, no mention of sending it to the police but its just so that they can say ‘Yes oh I watched the video’. I went on Linda Ikeji’s blog and I read her post and I then scoured the comments and saw people asking for the link... HOW BARBARIC IS THAT I mean its not like they are going to use it for good… and send it to the right people. NOOO they are going to sit there and watch somebody else anguish may be with a few EYAHs and AWWW's. How is that going to help the situation on ground? PEOPLE in general and NIGERIANS specifically make me sick…this AMEBORish attitude that we have is disgusting we make Voyeurism a lifestyle and we see nothing wrong with that.

I am not at all politically minded, if anybody was to ask me about Nigerian politics all I know is that our president is Goodluck Jonathan and the governor of Lagos state is Fashola. But I know that it is our duty as the enlightened youth to make a stand and fight against the death of decency in Nigeria, the death of freedom of speech, the elimination of our right to just be who we are without fear; without fear of being physically abused and the fear of being judged by others. It is our job to uphold decency and morality and prevent the ignorance of others from harming the innocent.

Please join Sugabelly’s Man Hunt to find these people and make them accountable for their crime… so that the victim can have peace that justice is served. And so that we as Nigerians can hold our heads up high and know that we have done something to help, for the sake of our future.

Inumidun

AKA

By the way see the post before this to hear F's opinion on the issue and PLEASE if anybody has any information about the people involved get in touch with sugabelly or Linda Ikeji

The Trouble with Technology

2011-09-18T03:05:00.001+01:00

We are a generation of voyeurs; peeping Toms trying to keep up with the Joneses. Sex tapes no longer make headlines. Everyone and their dog has a reality show. The fashion blogger inundates us with the groundbreaking manner in which she... Covers her nakedness. The self-obsessed glamour model tweets about her awesome day making more money than a doctor with less than one per cent of his IQ. These are the joys of the jet age.

I am not pulling a Reuben Abati on you. I refuse to degenerate into a rant about the evils of modern day life and how things were amazing back in the good old days. Being barely twenty years of age, the good old days to me are the nineties. You can see why I cannot claim such a moral high ground in this matter. I understand that technology has given us almost miraculous opportunities. More than half of the people I know are on a different continent most of the year and I have had the chance to see places I only saw on TV thanks to the wonders of modernity. Yet, is the proliferation of technology eroding something which can not be digitised? Is it taking away what it means to be human?

Forgive the melodrama. The drama queen in me tends to do the typing when I am upset. This post was actually spurred by a story I came across on Linda Ikeji's blog. It was about a female student who was gang-raped by five men. As heart-wrenching as the thought of such an atrocity is, what really infuriates me is the fact that this horrific act was filmed. And shared. And watched. By people other than the sick bastards who perpetrated the said act. WHY... I repeat... WHY would you see or hear that there is a video of a girl being repeatedly raped AND DECIDE TO WATCH IT? As much as I share Linda's disgust but WHY does this have to be buttressed by the actual footage? I would like to stress that she did not post the video on her blog. Instead, she offered to send it to women's rights organisations interested in taking up the case and defending the victim. Is it not enough to know that this has happened? Why do we need this sick "show and tell" to accompany it? Is simple empathy not enough anymore? Or does everything now require video evidence?

This post, like I said was spurred on, by this story. It is not an attack on Linda. She claims to have contacted the Abia state government on the issue which is more than I can do to help this girl in any tangible way. Still, I believe that this case shows, again, something which has been worrying me lately. There is something wrong with us. This need to film, tweet and share everything... At the end of the day, what is left? Linda herself admitted to having the full one hour video of the brutal attack on her laptop while keeping only a ten minute clip on her phone. Thankfully, she only posted a screen shot on her blog. This same sort of thing happened in the shamelessness that was the twitter fight between has-been rapper Joe Budden and his video girl ex Esther Baxter. Those who follow this blog might recall that I wrote a rant about this. To refresh your memories, this woman- in order to prove that Mr Budden beat her into miscarrying his baby- put up pictures of her dead foetus. The obvious thing to do when you lose your baby in the bathroom. Take pictures of it. And then share them on twitter at a later date. I can't even begin to understand this thought pattern.

We all know people who "overshare". Those who intimate their facebook friends with every fight and reconciliation in their relationships, those who post videos of otherwise private events, those who tweet everytime they take a shit. Yet, I ask, in this hyper-connected world, are we really closer? In this day and age of thousands of facebook friends and followers, do we really have confidantes? You have thirty-eight "likes" on your facebook status, but does anyone really value your opinion? Do you even care? Or would you rather go back to pouting for that picture you want to upload?

Right now, I'm wondering what the world is coming to. My mind is not wandering in a hopeful direction.

P.S. To get the Reuben Abati reference and for more info about the post on Linda Ikeji's blog, click here or here and here respectively.

The Reality of Self Discovery...

2011-09-12T02:47:00.002+01:00

You know those little insecurities and insanities that make you more of a stalker than a girlfriend? Or the excruciating inadequacy that has plagued you and pushes you to hate or judge other attractive or successful females for next to no reason? What about the one centimetre of fat on your stomach that keeps you from wearing that dress you love? You’ve always wanted to get rid of all these things, haven’t you? Well, friends, I have the answer. It’s called self discovery. Yes. All along, it really has been you. Your boyfriend is not screwing around, that girl is actually nice, and that layer of fat is not hiding; it simply does not exist. There you go. Problem solved. Delve into the intricacies of your soul and discover the beauty within. Therein you will find gardens and orchards populated with unicorns, pink ponies and fluttering butterflies. Look inside yourself. There, my friend, you will find the answer.

This infomercial has been brought to you by the Meaningless Cliche Association of Life. Remember, if you buy one dose of “self discovery”, you get an extra helping of high self esteem free. Go forth and flourish.

***

Now, that was a little self-indulgent, wasn’t it? If sarcasm was the proverbial dead horse, I have probably flogged, murdered and decapitated it by now. Still, these crimes have been committed for a good cause. There is a point to all this.

Anyone who has ever watched a tv show, read a magazine, or breathed has heard any or all of these cliches. Be yourself. Look inside. Discover this. Explore that. Inner beauty. I could go on for days but these few cliches are already killing me so I’ll spare you. Yet, have we asked ourselves what these actually mean? How do you come to this place of inner peace and self acceptance? Do you lock yourself in a dark room until a lightbulb comes on in your head? Or do you retreat to some desolate mountain until you hear the winds whisper the secret of life to you? This pseudo-philosophical “You hold the key” crap is, to me, just that. Crap.

Don’t misunderstand me. I am not about to descend self absorbed defence of nihilism. I am not criticising this quasi-spiritual self-searching because I think that there is no spiritual consciousness to aspire to. I am simply tired of the meaninglessness of most of these cliches... They are empty. Seriously. What does it actually mean to find your inner beauty? You look into your heart and see a Page Six Model or her spiritual/intellectual/emotional counterpart? I don’t think so. No number of self help books, motivational speakers or tapes can teach you how to live a better life. At least, they cannot teach any of us what we do not already know. I’m not even going to go into how they all say the same shit. Let’s just leave it at this. There is nothing new to learn from all this pretentious self-righteousness, however well-meaning. It’s all the same shit. Be yourself. Find your bliss. Fuck off.

If so-called self discovery was an Olympic sport, I would be a celebrated world class athlete by now. Gold medal winning shit. The last few months, I have been at home back in Nigeria after two years of wandering. I was all over the UK, then I went to Hong Kong, went to China, went to Vietnam, passed through Qatar and ended up back in Lagos. Since then, I have been catching up on two years worth of growing up. Getting to know my parents better, actually understanding them as people and not just bosses... Catching up with old friends... Just growing up. Learning. And what have I learned?

That we should have real conversations with our parents. Our uncles, aunties... Speak with our elders. They had lives before we came along. Lives that a lot of them have given up because of the very developments that brought us to life. That we should be genuinely interested in people. Not as voyeurs or gossips. But as people. As students of life. We should be inquisitive. Not about others’ business. But about life. Travel. Live. The things we learn from doing all these cannot be contained in any 5-point action plan; neither can they be contained in this self indulgent rant. It would be arrogant at best and plain stupid of me at worst to claim to have discovered the meaning of life before I have spent two decades living it. All I have to offer is my limited knowledge and experience- both of which have led me to this conclusion. The only way you can find yourself is to search others. And when you look, you may not always find roses, rainbows and bright lights. Sometimes you find darkness, decay and dirt. You find issues. Self discovery is not paradise. It’s hardwork. If you’re thinking about it, at least know what you’re getting yourself into. It’s illuminating. It’s fulfilling. It’s freeing. But it’s not pretty.

...

You thought the last post was long didn't you? Writer's block is gone o... Only God can save you all now... :)

Guest Blogger.... :)

2011-09-09T04:08:00.002+01:00

Hey guys,

Some time ago, I wrote something short for a Broken heart blogfest... Someone with itchy fingers read it and just had to write a response from a male perspective. That someone happens to be behind Clearly Vague- the breath of fresh air I mentioned in my previous post... To refresh your memories, I'll put up my piece again and then you can read "his side of the story".

***

She says...

My heart is broken. I know exactly when it happened. It was this morning right after my lecture- the one I loved because we both made fun of that quirky lecturer and his bad jokes. I had noticed that you weren't in class but I figured you were sleeping in again. You were never a morning person. Maybe you were even a little lazy but I loved it because it meant that you spent more time in my bed. Having you next to me was enough, even when you were asleep. And the longer you stayed that way, the longer my sheets smelled like you after you were gone. You assaulted my senses even in your absence. I was smelling, feeling, tasting you... And you probably never even thought about me. We were just friends. Nothing was defined. And it was enough. Until I saw you with her, holding hands in public like you said you hated and sharing one of those cups of coffee you called pretentious and overpriced. You're not even a morning person. Why did you look so alive, so content, so happy? Now it hits me. With her, you're in love. With me, you're having fun. It's funny how leaving something undefined leaves only one of the "friends" with all the "benefits". I don't even feel sad. That might come later. Right now, I feel sick. I feel faint. I want to crawl into a hole and just hide. The problem is this. When I feel like this, I usually want you to hold me. Since you are slightly preoccupied right now, I'm making do with him. The one whose hands are under my shirt. I'm touching him but feeling you; I'm kissing him but tasting you; I'm fucking him but wanting you. Fingernails dig deeeper, tongues explore further, bodies collide- all in a bed whose sheets still smell like you.

...

He says...

I hate myself right now. I am here writing in my journal when all I want to do is wrap you around my arms and kiss you so passionately you’d raise your left leg in the air…

But it’s entirely my fault, I’m a coward. I kid myself by saying I don’t want to spoil what we already have. But I know this is a huge lie, I simply lack the balls to let you know how I feel and I definitely lack the chutzpah to face your response.

Alyssa is pretty, she’s got that set of azure eyes, long blond hair and a beautiful tan that I like, but you’ve got that …you that I love. She satisfies my body, but leaves my soul wanting. She doesn’t even know me; she hasn’t seen the other sides of me. The sides that I exhibit when I delve into philosophical quandary and I find it hard to think of anything else, she hasn’t experienced when I’m consumed by the dialectics of religion or mathematics and when I wrestle with myself and others. To her it’s all fun and games. Anytime I try to reveal these sides of me to her, she immediately thinks she can help me and salvage me from myself. She tries to make me into someone I’m not. The other day, she made me go to Starbucks to drink their overpriced coffee. She forced me to share a straw with her. She doesn’t know how much I hate the capitalistic nature of that establishment. Plus like I told you, they have overrated coffee. But I had to go through that shit, so I could satisfy my nightly lust. Remember what I told you last week, everybody pays a price for sex whether directly or indirectly. Yeah, that was mine.

Agreed, she’s fun to hang out with, but the most fun we have is when we get to talk about our friends and your name gets brought up. You see on Tuesday when you saw us holding hands, I hated every moment of that PDA shit, but we were talking about you and I couldn’t just help but put aside my dislike for the public display of “affection” and revel in the very thought of you, I couldn’t wait to come snuggle with you as we did. I love the smell your body leaves on my shirt. It appeases my senses and gives me a gentle reminder that I’m not alone.

The truth is this; I love myself when I’m with you. I find it difficult to do that when you’re not here. In your absence, I am haunted by a plethora of my imperfections, and how inadequate I am. I hate my flat nose, but when you’re here I forget about it. I hate the fact I am born deformed in my left hand, but when you’re here, it’s all good. I hate a lot of shit about my life, but when I’m near you, all these vanish. I love you. But I can’t let you know that. I don’t know how you feel about me, and I don’t know if I’m ready to confront that. So I always made myself think that our friendship was enough. Until last night.

Last night, those bastards were praising him. They all rejoiced in the fact that you finally cracked and slept with one of them. It made me sad, that was the moment I realized that our friendship wasn’t enough. I wanted you, all of you. I wanted you to myself. Whether you know it or not, you’re mine. I would love for you to act according to such but as I haven’t mustered the effrontery to let you know how I feel, I can’t put reins on you.

(This is still incomplete)

N.B I love you.

***

My people!!!

2011-09-08T02:21:00.004+01:00

Yes o... It is F... Your eyes are NOT deceiving you... I have not been abducted by aliens or sold into slavery... Neither have I suffered severe amnesia and completely lost my conversance with technology... I can still type... I can still use the internet... What can I say? Refer to the second untitled post after this one for an explanation.

I'm now home in Nigeria after a 2 year absence... Been home since May. It's been great. I've seen; I've laughed; I've learned... I've grown. Unfortunately, I haven't written... At least I hadn't until tonight... And this changed thanks to the mind behind the deliciously stimulating Clearly Vague... It's funny how you think something isn't going to happen until you get a little nudge...

So the next two posts after this are the fruits of this brief release from the clutches of writer's block. Let's hope her claws don't dig in again anytime soon. I'll try to write something longer now...

Kisses... :)

...untitled...

2011-09-08T02:14:00.003+01:00

Don’t touch me. Just speak. Shower me with your intellect. Clothe me in your experience. Tell me about yourself.

Don’t speak. Just stare. Transform me with your gaze. Immerse me in your eyes. If they are windows to your soul, I might want to burgle your being... Rip it to shreds... Decimate you like you've annihilated me... And put you back together again...

Time folds in on itself; we get lost in the creases... It stretches again and we glide across its length... Hours collapse into hours when you’re here... Seconds torture as they pass when you’re not... Your absence leaves my soul hungry... My mind cannibalises on itself, consuming the little sanity I have left. Thoughts of you with someone else replace memories of our nights together... Paralysing terror... Fiery anger... They eat me alive...

Then the phone rings... And your voice injects fire in my veins and lava in my heart... Lust envelopes me and it’s contagious... What I’m wearing, what you want to do to me... Your voice is the vehicle that carries these desires across the miles that separate us... Time collapses and you’re here. Our clothes are there. When I said “Don’t touch me”, I guess I lied.

I know this isn’t normal. Normal is good. This is euphoric. Screaming... Scratching... Imploding... Then it’s done. And you’re gone.

I need a drink.

... untitled...

2011-09-08T01:34:00.000+01:00

I run my fingers across the warm plastic. Across the flatness… Across the ridges… Letters, numbers, symbols… Literally at my finger tips. Yet, I lift my eyes and I am confronted with blank whiteness. It mocks me. It’s been thirty minutes.

A wise person once said “Life is a bitch”. If that is the case, then writer’s block is Eve, Jezebel and Cleopatra rolled up in one. She is the totality of all femme fatales who have ever lived, and she strikes with a vengeance. When she comes, she comes to stay. As I speak, we have been roommates for months now. I don’t think she’s moving out anytime soon.

You see, writing is the only thing I know how to do. I mean, really know how to do. The only thing I do effortlessly… The only thing I have that is remotely close to a hobby or, dare I say, talent. I don’t play any instruments, I sing like a tone-deaf maniac and a relay team consisting of a snail, a slug, a sloth and a centipede would beat me hands down in any sprint. Extra-curricular activities have never been my thing- except of course, they involved writing. Essay competition? I’m there. Inter-house sports day? Hell no. I even tried to join the debating team in secondary school. I hated it. Nothing else interested me. Writing it was, then.

The thing about writing, though, is that it is the worst of rollercoaster rides. The kind that suddenly picks you up in the middle of the night and leaves dozens of stories, poems and essays in its wake. Then it drops. And you’re sitting at your laptop running your fingers over warm, flat plastic for thirty minutes. This thirty minutes of course, is a continuation of roughly six months of stagnation. Purgatory of the pen. Or in this case, the keyboard. It sucks.

Thus ends my cautionary tale. What is the moral of the story, you may ask? Here it is. Do not, under any circumstances, fall in love with writing. You want a hobby? Watch TV. Smoke. Knit. DO NOT try to write. It’s great at first. The honeymoon period is awesome. All you can do is write. In class, on the bus, in your room… And then, you can’t. Because she moves in. And, in my case, writer’s block doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere anytime soon. Until she decides to leave, I guess we’re just going to sit here and watch Yoruba movies like one big happy family. Thank God for Africa Magic.

-F

xxx

Mob Wives + Stuff

2011-07-04T10:50:00.002+01:00

Ok I’m not sure anyone is on here anymore… I know we’ve been silent it’s mainly because F is on holiday and I have been facing lots of challenges but that’s gist for another day.

Anyways during a twelve hour Skype date with one of my old friends from Adesoye I happened to stumble upon the AWESOMENESS that is MOB WIVES. It has all the Cursing and Hair Pulling and all that good stuff! As soon as I was 10 minutes in the 1^st episode I knew I was hooked.

Since I was about 12 I have been very into the Mob and Mob culture I watched a lot of the movies and I often had fantasies in fact it was closer to crystal clear visions as to what my life would be like as part of the Mafia not really for the killing and the blood which are awesome but mainly for the lifestyle and the moral code. As I’m sure you know the Mafia have a strict moral code which places emphasis on Respect, fierce loyalty and Blind obedience. I know that the Mob is about more than that the killing, the drugs and Illegal arms smuggling , I’m not in to that but let’s not go there.

Over the last couple of months I have and too much time of my hands and thus I have been very introspective and evaluated many of my relationships and friendships.

I think that friendships should have some kind of moral code which herald Loyalty to your friends, Respect for your friends (Not really respect but recognise them as you would want them to recognise you i.e. as equals with love) and also do unto them as you want them to do unto you (Somehow I feel that the last two points are similar *oh well*).

I have learnt a few hard lessons this year with my friends and I think I shall develop a list of friendship rules and a friendship contract before I become friends with them. Because even though I am hesitant to get into a relationship with friends I fall hard and fast and there is nothing I can do about it and they almost always let me down.

Oh and I have bad news, the only man in my life Ahoushi Byakuran sama (my laptop) is dying! But the good news I’m getting a Mac!!

See life is not all Doom and Gloom!

Women and Stupidity...

2011-05-12T15:33:00.000+01:00

**WARNING** RANT!!!

I vented my irritation over this issue as a status on facebook, but somehow two phrases don't suffice. In case you guys don't know what follishness I'm referring to, it's "Buddengate". Yep. You heard me. Buddengate. I coined this term based on the popular use of the suffix "-gate" to describe fiascos, catastrophes and all-round cluster-fucks. In this case, the disaster is rapper Joe Budden, who appears to be a one-man woman-wrecking machine. The current season of this disgraceful drama began with a battle on Twitter- you know, the avenue through which mature men deal with their relationship issues. Speaking to one another in person is so last year, let's discuss the violence, infidelity and dysfunction of our relationship before loads of faceless strangers with the @ symbol attached to sometimes dodgy nicknames. You heard me, people. This man took to twitter to "expose" his recent ex- video ho, I mean "vixen"/"model"/"dancer"/"professional"/HO- Esther Baxter.

Apparently she cheated on him with some ball player while she was pregnant for him, had lost a shitload of babies (let's forget these pregnancies were actually human beings) and was basically a bitch/slut/ho who deserved to burn in the hottest part of hell. And just like this life-changing information wasn't enough for the public, Joe kindly included a link to a song which chronicled the relationship he had just described in tweets- but this time, in mediocre rap form. Our lives are now complete. Black, male, rap version of Mother Theresa right there... Next step = Sainthood. The story is enough of a parade of idiocy at this stage but you know what they say, never underestimate people. It has now degenerated into accusations and counter-accusations of domestic violence, PICTURES OF A DEAD FOETUS TO PROVE THIS and just general fuckery. If in doubt, google is your friend.

My point here is this. Don't get me wrong; I love black blogs and the stupid people they feature. We don't want to watch HardTalk, read boooks and build up our brain cells everyday. Jeremy Kyle, trashy tv and slutty idiots are essential for well-rounded entertainment too. The question I have is this. With all the dumb ass madness that is featured on these rags (both in print, on tv and online), WHERE DO THEY STILL FIND THESE PEOPLE? I swear the single-digit IQ population of the world should have been exhausted by now- between the Maurys and the Springers and the Flavour of Loves of the world. I mean, REALLY.

The reason I titled this post "WOMEN and Stupidity" is because I sort of expect more from them. Lol. Sue me. This Joe Budden guy, for instance, has had his recent past uncovered by our little Sherlock Holmeses running around posting blogs. Dude has fucking raged out on every single girlfriend he has had in the past few years- beat the shit out of the last one and is said to have a history of being generally violent. Oh, and he lovingly refers to all his women as "bitches" and "hos" as well. This isn't even Chris Brown syndrome- one costly mistake that has dogged dude for ever. NO. Joe Budden has video blogs on youtube where he just rants at the chick he most recently broke up with, cursing like a rabid alcoholic and exhibitting other gentlemanly behaviour. Why would you, Oh Miss Baxter, see this kind of man and try to date him? MOVE IN WITH HIM, EVEN. The guy obviously has a pattern- only dates video girls (Tahiry, Somaya Reece and the most recent Madam Baxter) to name a few, totally disrespects them and tends to express this in form of physical violence. Yet, you somehow thought you would be different. You are paid to shake your ass and be nearly naked in videos, how the fuck is dude supposed to respect you? I'm in no way excusing his behaviour- the guy is fucking crazy but this is already someone who has a sick view of women... You think the fact that he met you with your ass hanging out somehow sets you apart from the others? Now, you're crying all over the internet talking about "I never thought this would happen to me"... *Sigh* Sometimes with women, I just can't... I don't... *Sigh*

It really saddens me that in this day and age, women still fall for this bad-boy/"gangsta" bullshit... Then get surprised when the guy exhibits bad-boy/gangsta traits... Like the age-old saying from the great Yoruba people of Nigeria goes, "O je ya ara e ni brain..."

Kisses,

F.

M's Classic Quotes are Back!

2011-04-24T15:34:00.001+01:00

"I like pepper soup... 'Cause it's peppery, and it's soup"...

*blank stare*

Lost and Found Blogfest...

2011-03-31T10:54:00.003+01:00

Hi guys, This post is for the lost and found blogfest hosted by the world-famous Myne Whitman. The aim is to write about something you've lost and rediscovered (as the title suggests). Instinctively, I thought of writing about... well, my writing. I've been stuck in the disgusting funk of writer's block for a while. It's a dark, dark place people. Recently, though, I just spontaneously wrote a poem (of all things- I never write poetry). It was a bit melodramatic but cathartic at the same time. I guess now that I've got the crap out of my system, I can get over myself and just write. That was the plan. To tell you guys about that. Until I saw this. Pardon my language guys. I've tried to clean up my speech for a few years now but that endeavour hasn't been too successful so until then, I have to say WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? I can't even repeat the words of the chorus for fear of decorating my laptop with vomit. Seriously, I know a lot of music is shit nowadays but this is a new base level of shit. It's like the last straw, especially since we have been blessed with the following musical gems in such recent times. I feel like these people don't even respect their fans anymore. It's like they are so confident of their god-like status that they know people will eat up whatever crap they produce even if the song sounds like it was penned by a songwriter whose IQ reads in single digits. Trust me, I'm not a musical purist. I do agree that some songs are just there to make you dance and not every piece of music has to be stimulating, emotional or deep. But there's fun. And there's dumb. Feel free to google the words "Friday Rebecca Black" if you seek a more visual explanation of this concept. So, I guess the thing that I have lost is my respect for and interest in pop music. It just seems to be getting worse and worse. I mean, a whole J-LO men... As long as she's been in the game- let's ignore that fact that she is no Aretha Franklin- she comes back after such a long hiatus and THAT is what she gives her fans? It's disrespectful. Or should we talk about the fact that someone who literally road her own coattails to fame considering she is only remotely significant in pop culture because of her ass can suddenly embark on a music career... The whole situation of pop music today perplexes, it really does. The saddest part though, isn't the waning quality of music. It's the fact that J-LOs song has over 63 million hits on youtube. It's the fact that Rebecca Black has already sold millions of copies of that abomination of a song while talented people are singing in train stations and can't get a break. Demand and supply, people. If noone bought this shit, noone would sell it. There it is. I've lost faith in mainstream music. I'm not sure if I'll find it again, though... :/ -F

Hey guys... :)

2011-03-27T03:07:00.002+01:00

I'm on Naija Stories... AGAIN! I love that website... Myne is awesome for creating it and encouraging many like myself to write and have fun with it. Well, ocassionally, it's not just about fun and constructive criticism. It's about cash. :D I entered the most recent competition whose theme is that of voting or making choices (in line with the current election season in Nigeria). My entry is about a woman trying to decide whether or not to let someone into her life... Check it out here... I need to get my views up to stay in the game so abeg now... Go and read the thing. :) Tennnnzzz....

Kisses,

Something that came to me...

2011-03-18T13:18:00.003Z

I’m falling

Deeper and deeper

Faster than ever before

I know where this is going

Yet I fight

I fight because I am scared

Scared that this perfect image of you is just an illusion

One I created for myself

A safe haven

Because you are not "The One"

But I need you to be

So I project

My desire for love

My hunger for touch

Delirium

Elation

You pervade my senses

I’m hearing your sweetness

Seeing your voice

Tasting your light

Maybe I do love you

The perfect “you” I choose to see

The one who finishes my sentences

And holds me close

The one who takes the pain away

Maybe I do love you

Or maybe

I just need to love myself.

Broken Heart Blogfest

2011-03-14T08:11:00.003Z

So here I am... Battling writer's block... Struggling to find enthusiasm for pretty much anything. School isn't doing it, gist isn't either and the one thing I do with ease- write- seems far away from me right now. Then I stumble upon the heartbreak blogfest on Myne Whitman's blog. The idea for the blogfest was originally brought up by Dawn of In the Book. Myne and Dawn might just have cured me of my writer's block because I literally saw thew idea and started writing. Forgive any errors or lack of polish- I saw and I wrote. Thanks to you guys for the idea. Hope you and others who check this out like it. Again, feel free to comment and/or critique. Like Sugabelly rightfully says, reviews are fuel.

New Things

2011-02-25T21:03:00.008Z

M in the Hiz House!

Dear Blogworld in an attempt to resurrect the blog I’m going to do something a bit different… the blog is very topical so sometimes I wonder if it’s appropriate to post some extremely random stuff, but then I remembered the blog is supposed to be a reflection of F and I and we are both very weird and quirky … so I was like OK I’ll go for it and see what happens…

(this is where subliminal messaging comes in … please like it please like it please like it please like it please like it!!)

OK have had a rather eventful week after five years of looking I currently hold my first job in the UK lol (YAY ME) its temporary and it involves talking (which is my hobby).. On Sunday I had a terrible fight with one of my friends which at the end of the day resulted in the end of a turbulent but epic friendship. I’m sure you think it’s sad but it’s not really, I left the friendship with some truly fascinating stories to tell my children about my university days.

And soon after that I caught the flu so I have not been able to go to school or anything.. L But I’m feeling loads better now i am just left with a cold J.

As a joke I thought of my most five hilarious reasons it sucks to be overweight. All of these are of equal importance and are mostly in reference to Media Culture and out of my own experience

1. In all epic thriller/horror movies fat people always die because they cannot escape the crazed serial killer.

2. Fat people never get carried across the threshold on their wedding day rather they do the carrying

3. The story of Cinderella has been interpreted in many ways but think about it Cinderella was never fat… ok so I’ll put it like this

Imagine Cinderella was fat and the fairy god mother make her slim for a night and the prince falls in love after the 1^st dance and a night of intense romance ensues at midnight she feels her bustier growing tighter and she realises that she has to go. When the prince finally finds her and sees that she is overweight he will probably opt for one of the evil step-sisters.

4. Overweight people are us portrayed to be evil... e.g. Ursula in the little mermaid.

5. And finally Fat people are always automatically moved to best friend not really because they are really good friends but

a. Pretty girls keep them by their side to remind them how pretty they are

b. Most guys keep them around because they know that the fat girl has a crush on them so they can use her whenever they want and in a lot of cases the guy pretends to like her when her really likes her other friend

c. Gay guys need Hags

SO in order to lose weight I’m hitting the gym a lot now and I even have a personal trainer AND HE IS AWESOME I have only done one session but I was sore for 4 days.

I hope you guys are all AWESOME

xo x

The Story Continues...

2011-02-09T04:07:00.003Z

Hey guys,

It's the prodigal blogger here... Phylix, one of the amazing bloggers over at Dancing Silhouettes (I love that name and it's such a cool blog) sent me his take on the next instalment of the story I've been trying to continue on the blog here. In case y'all missed it, here it is so far...

CHAPTER ONE: When Words Fail You...

The pain. The searing pain. As she feels it cutting across her lower back and piercing her abdomen, Ada knows what it means. Now, of all times, when Ifeanyi is out of the country... Hopelessness and unimaginable sorrow overwhelm her. The blood follows soon after.

***

Ada is staring aimlessly out of the window. Mama softly places a rosary in her palm. If humans cannot comfort her, maybe faith can. Within moments, the delicate beads are scattered across the floor of the hospital ward. Ada has flung them across the room with all the venom she can muster before returning to the foetal position that has become her only source of solace. Attributing her bereavement to the mysterious plan of a benevolent God is not going to work this time.This is the final straw for Mama Ifeanyi. Fuming under her breath, she glares at the witch who has eaten four of her son’s unborn children. Letting out a long and loud hiss, Ada’s mother-in-law spits at her and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The few friends who stay behind are fidgeting, growing restless. The awkward silence is stifling.Ada remains mute. She still hasn’t called Ifeanyi. She can’t.

***

The visitors have gone. One by one, with a knowing nod directed at Mama, they crept out of the ward. Now, Mama is sobbing quietly. She reaches for her daughter’s hand but Ada recoils sharply as if her mother’s touch could scald her. With reluctant resignation, Mama sighs and leaves the room to get some air.***The door creaks open. She doesn’t bother to turn around to face whoever it is. They will leave eventually, anyway. Suddenly, she is enveloped in the familiar warmth of her husband’s arms. Mama must have called him. Her whole world now lies in this cramped hospital bed. Ifeanyi kisses her neck and pulls her closer. Ada bursts into tears.

CHAPTER TWO: The Fall Out

Before the pain... Before the blood... They were "just friends". Dates disguised as study sessions... Study sessions by the beach... Her pathetic attempts to lure the hottest guy on campus... The desperation with which she wanted him then now amused her. She was amused in the way only a thoroughly devastated soul could be- totally used up, like her little chuckles at her former self were her last defence against circumstances battling her for her sanity. God... I wanted him...

And she still did... A part of her... The part that wasn't too tired or broken to feel anything. It wasn't always easy to find, though...

Suddenly, she couldn't stand his touch. The warmth that she had sunk into now seemed stifling. Ada jumped out of the bed before she did or said something she would have regretted. She felt like no one understood, even though sadly, the man she left in bed did. She felt like she was going mad but Ifeanyi felt something even worse; that his wife was unravelling and there was nothing he could do about it.

Ada was standing by the window, staring out of it with the same aimlessness she felt typified her existence. Ifeanyi thought he had reached her finally, but she was gone again. Even Mama thought his arrival was the cure for Ada's silence. Yet, even the person she loved most in the world could not drag her from the depths of the consuming darkness she felt herself plunging into. Four times... Four times...

"Baby..."

She didn't answer. Not because she was avoiding him, but because she didn't feel like she was that person anymore. The very word irritated her. Like the love she felt. Or used to feel. I don't know anymore...

"Ada... Please talk to me..." Ifeanyi sighed so deeply and sadly that Ada felt for one second that he might understand what she was feeling. He embodied the hopelessness she felt. One second. Then the darkness sucked her back in.

"Mama told me Mama Ifeanyi was here..."

Ada used to find it funny when Ifeanyi called his own mother that. If only she saw that it was a cruel joke fate would come to play on them. Mama had turned out to be more of a pillar of support to them than his own mother. In fact, to stretch the metaphor, his mother actively took a sledge hammer to that pillar at the slightest provocation. Ada pictured Mama Ifeanyi hammering away at a pillar. It cracked her up.

Ifeanyi didn't know whether to be relieved that his wife was laughing for the first time in a long while or to be afraid that her mind was leaving her. Ada threw her head back as she laughed so bitterly that something broke inside Ifeanyi. The joy that drew him to her wasn't there anymore. And he wasn't a good enough reason to restore it. Not this time.

"She made quite the dramatic exit. Spitting and all. Her aim was quite off sha..."

She had locked herself away again. In her sarcasm. And her coldness. Ifeanyi felt helpless.

"Baby... I'm sorry... Just, PLEASE... Talk to me... Look..." Ifeanyi sighed as he stood to meet his wife by the window. "I need you to know that I am here... You are not doing this by yourself."

"Well, I would hope not. Killing four children is a huge responsibility to shoulder alone." She didn't even look at him as she spoke, focusing on the mother hen outside the window leading her chicks across the grass. She was going to count them but stopped. If there were four of them, she might have screamed.

"Ada, why are you being like this? You know she is just saying her own... It has nothing to do with us. Just forget her... Don't..."

"WHAT?" Ada spun sharply to face Ifeanyi as she directed all the anger she felt at the one person she still cared for. She wanted to stop but the words poured out of her like rain. The clouds had been too dark and too heavy for too long to hold back this down pour. It was too much for her.

"Don't what? Question this miraculous plan of the Good Lord to take four of my children before I even know them? Or accept the fact that your family blames me for it... God... I don't even know which is worse... My mother wants me to pray, your mother wants me to leave, you want me to talk..." Tears welled up in her eyes and in one flash Ifeanyi could see the internal struggle they hid. "Well, maybe I just want to die."

"Baby... Don't..."

And in another flash, she honesty and vulnerability he thought he saw were gone. "DON'T CALL ME THAT. Your baby... Your babies are DEAD."

Anger flooded Ifeanyi's veins. He glared at the woman he married and turned to leave the room. Ada wanted to make him stay, to tell him she loved him and she was sorry... To tell him she just wanted him to hold her... Instead, she watched the space between them widen until her husband slammed the door.

==================================

And here is the next part... Enjoy...

==================================

CHAPTER THREE: The First Time

All alone in the ward, Ada tried to remember what it felt like to not be anrgy. To not resent her husband. To feel absolute happiness and unconditional love. She remembered the first time...

***

"Oh my God! Honey look! LOOK!!"

The excitement that rushed through Ada's veins could only be equaled to when she knew she was going to win his heart, when others were frivolously trying to get it. In a frenzy, Ifeanyi ran to the bathroom, fearing the worst was happening to Ada at that moment. Bursting through the door with all his might, Ifeanyi scanned the bathroom to find his wife holding something in her hand and jumping up and down while having this teenage girl look on her face; like she just got the most expensive jewelry set any one in her set had ever acquired.

"Look!! It's positive! It's POSITIVE!!!"
"What is?"
"THIS!!!"

Ada handed Ifeanyi what she was holding and, at that moment, he completely understood what the excitement was for. He was going to be a father soon. Oh what joy this shall bring him. The joy of having a child to call his own. Not that he had been waiting for a long time, but the anticipation nevertheless got him good. Things couldn't get any better.

The hours rolled into days, which in turn rolled into months. From the first trimester to the second and everything seemed quite alright. In fact, no problems at all had surfaced up to that point, and the gynaecologist had given the couple the affirmative report that everything was alright and they should be looking forward to a healthy and relatively easy third trimester.

Everything was looking good... Everything except Ada's intuition. No matter how hard she tried to shake it, she couldn't help feeling the presence of a dark cloud. She had tried sharing it with Ifeanyi but it ended up with him teasing her over the fact that it's a first. "No. That's not it. It's more..." She had tried explaining to Ifeanyi but he waved it aside, advising that she not give into her fear of something going wrong.She decided to go along with what Ifeanyi said. She thought he was probably right. She eventually dismissed it and continued to go on happy and healthy. Yet, as the third trimester came closer, Ada, unconscious of the fact, beagn to shudder uncontrollably from time to time because the feeling came back stronger than before...

===================================

I feel like this is adding a supernatural element to the story but it's up to the next contributor to decide where this is going... Whoever feels like writing should drop me a line or leave a comment and we'll work it out. As always, comments and criticism are appreciated. Writers need this more than you know.

Kisses,

F.

Life......

2011-02-01T02:57:00.001Z

THE BLOG IS NOT DEAD!!

I REPEAT THE BLOG IS NOT DEAD just comatose

F and I have just been busy… I must make a confession I lost the will to Blog… *Quelle horreur* *Sacré bleu* and finally *LE GASP*

2011 has been the most stressful year of my life so far and it has barely begun ok so where do I start. Ok so remember I said that I am graduating from university this year. So now I am faced with the ALMIGHTY JOB HUNT firstly I must state that Job applications are a BITCH!! I have gotten my CV and Cover letter looked at like 20 times in the last 4 months. And I must say that in this county it is almost impossible to get a job ok I take that back the probability of getting a job before graduation or even within three months after graduation is very close to 30%. Like seriously so my dad paid £27,000 pounds for my education and I am not even guaranteed a job.

Oh and as a graduate another thing I have to contend with is gender inequality in pay. So on average a man earns 14% more than a woman for the same Job, and it only gets worse as I get older.

I MUST SAY

When everyone was shouting Conservatives last year, I WARNED THEM... now No jobs, rubbish healthcare and LOW PAY…

OK so on a lighter note I have decided to name our blog mascot -à

Hibari chan (who I should mention I think is a tranny... just because I think she is too womanly to be a woman… DON’T QUESTION MY REASONING)

I hope 2011 is better for you guys…

And I think that *LE GASP* is here to stay

People how far now?

2011-01-26T14:22:00.002Z

That was both a question and an attack... lol... How far as in how una dey? We know we've been lazy with the posting as usual... This is what happens when both bloggers are on separate continents, time zones and work schedules. So happy new year guys... At least it's still January, lol. It could be worse... :)

Now for the second how far... Seriously now, how far? What happened to the story idea? People seemed quite enthusiastic about it but I've got zero contributions to show for it... Abeg now, if you guys like the idea, send me something so we can get this thing going... I'm really looking forward to hearing from those who are interested... Refer to previous posts to check out the story so far...

Hope you guys have been good sha... M is working on something so the blog will be updated sooner rather than later...

Kisses,

"Sexual Liberation"

2010-12-07T05:17:00.004Z

Thanks to everyone who showed interest in the story... The next instalment is coming soon... (I feel like a Nollywood director, smh). In the meantime, I thought I would share some random thoughts based on stuff I've seen recently.

Oh, the wonders of the internet. What a fascinating web we weave... (Hahaha, that was funny wasn't it? *crickets* No? *sad face*) Moving on... I came across Keri Hilson's latest video for her song "The way you love me" on La Pimpette's blog. In case, you haven't seen it, here it is.

Now, I was pretty damn shocked. I mean, it has "Cassie Syndrome" written all over it. It reeked of desperation. Or so I thought. This is what Keri had to say about the controversy (people throw that word around so lightly these days) surrounding her video.

OK... I have to admit she has a point... :D Still, when did it become okay for people to proudly announce their desire to be fucked in front of the whole world. That really isn't an exaggeration- I saw all this from the comfort of my room in Hong Kong thanks to the amebo that is the internet so this is even beyond screaming from the rooftops. Like this wasn't enough, I came across this post. It's something I have never really understood since my train of thought goes thus. "Umm... MY DADDY IS AT HOME. Who do you think you are?" The guys goes on to talk about some next shit like peeing on his woman because he loves her and all this... The posts themselves are not even as interesting as the comments. All this "as long as they are two consenting adults" crap. So just because they consent to it, it's okay to pee on one another? REALLY?

Now, I totally get that Keri's comments, calling your man "daddy" (LMAO... I still can't get over that) and peeing on your partner all fall on different levels of the scale (if there is one anymore). I'm not equating Keri's video to the pervy suggestion of urinating on your partner. It all just seems to contribute to a similar picture of society. We have become a race selfishly obsessed with sexual gratification even when it humiliates another human being. Keri is all about "me, me, me..." (You should hear how many times she says that in this video), the guy in the post wants to dominate his woman by making her call him this and that and then- the icing on the cake- he wants to urinate all over her. I'm sorry, in spite of all this talk of being liberated and empowered, I highly doubt that having a man empty his bladder all over you causes your self-esteem to skyrocket. It appears that society has increasingly become okay with sex becoming an entirely selfish act- do whatever turns you on. YOU. You want to recreate that porn video you saw? Go for it. Forget the fact that it is completely realistic and does not reflect any modicum of love and/or respect for your partner... Just smack that shit. Yeah.

*blank stare*

All the movements, all the effort. Now we are "liberated". Now we are "empowered". Free to ask to be fucked. Free to be peed on. Words cannot express the gratitude I feel.

-Confused F

Another Update...

2010-12-01T10:29:00.003Z

Hey guys... This is just to sort out who is writing and when they will be contributing... Interested writers should feel free to contact us through the form on the right. The contact form isn't just for writers o... Any comments or suggestions are also welcome. Ok... The plan is to have one chapter per week so here's what we've got so far.

Fabulola of Me and then Some

Kanmi of Konfirmed.com

Leggy of Confessions of a Confused Teenager

2cute4u of Free Answers to Your Questions

Jaycee of Light-A-Lamp

Depending on writers' convenience we could swap turns or include others who show interest- this is by no means final; it's just something to work with for the moment. Expect the first instalment soon... :)

-F

Update... :)

2010-11-29T15:36:00.002Z

Hey guys... The story idea seems to have been well received (YAY!) so we'll be posting different writers' contributions periodically. Up first is Fabulola whose "Woes of a Crusher" might as well have been coming from some of us... SMH... Let's just say F doesn't like boys right now... :(

A contact form has been put on the side bar for others interested in contributing... Just drop us a line and we'll sort out what chapter you'll be writing. Writers who do contribute should feel free to post their own instalments on their blogs but please please link us in the post so readers can get a feel of the background of the story if they want to.

Oya now... Lesgodia....

Idea... :)

2010-11-26T17:04:00.005Z

Hey guys... I have an idea for an upcoming feature on the blog... It's concerning a story I started but haven't been able to finish because writer's block is a bitch. I know the story needs to go somewhere- the question is figuring out where. So here's the plan. They say there is love in sharing so I am throwing the story open to Blogville. I have already contacted some bloggers who have shown amazing talent and enthusiasm for writing and if anyone is interested in continuing the story, PLEASE feel free to drop a comment or email me so we know how to proceed. This should be fun. :)

About the story itself... It started as a contribution to a Body Language Blogfest- the task was to convey a story with no dialogue whatsoever, yet the characters had to be communicating in some way, shape or form. As is usually the case with feedback I get concerning stuff I write, many people expected that there should be a continuation (I swear the stories seem finished to me, but people no gree o!) Anyway, I wrote a second chapter, if you will... I've never been able to write an extended piece... It never goes beyond a short story or two (as seen in this case) and this was an attempt to challenge myself. Now, here we are. You can probably tell whether I have risen to this challenge or not. :(

I've put up the two sections individually on NigerianFiction, NaijaStories and this blog too but for newer readers and those who can't be bothered to remember some girl's attempt at writing, here goes...

========================================

CHAPTER ONE: When Words Fail You...

The pain. The searing pain. As she feels it cutting across her lower back and piercing her abdomen, Ada knows what it means. Now, of all times, when Ifeanyi is out of the country... Hopelessness and unimaginable sorrow overwhelm her. The blood follows soon after.

***

Ada is staring aimlessly out of the window. Mama softly places a rosary in her palm. If humans cannot comfort her, maybe faith can. Within moments, the delicate beads are scattered across the floor of the hospital ward. Ada has flung them across the room with all the venom she can muster before returning to the foetal position that has become her only source of solace. Attributing her bereavement to the mysterious plan of a benevolent God is not going to work this time.

This is the final straw for Mama Ifeanyi. Fuming under her breath, she glares at the witch who has eaten four of her son’s unborn children. Letting out a long and loud hiss, Ada’s mother-in-law spits at her and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. The few friends who stay behind are fidgeting, growing restless. The awkward silence is stifling.
Ada remains mute. She still hasn’t called Ifeanyi. She can’t.

***

The visitors have gone. One by one, with a knowing nod directed at Mama, they crept out of the ward. Now, Mama is sobbing quietly. She reaches for her daughter’s hand but Ada recoils sharply as if her mother’s touch could scald her. With reluctant resignation, Mama sighs and leaves the room to get some air.

***

The door creaks open. She doesn’t bother to turn around to face whoever it is. They will leave eventually, anyway. Suddenly, she is enveloped in the familiar warmth of her husband’s arms. Mama must have called him. Her whole world now lies in this cramped hospital bed. Ifeanyi kisses her neck and pulls her closer. Ada bursts into tears.

CHAPTER TWO: The Fall Out

Before the pain... Before the blood... They were "just friends". Dates disguised as study sessions... Study sessions by the beach... Her pathetic attempts to lure the hottest guy on campus... The desperation with which she wanted him then now amused her. She was amused in the way only a thoroughly devastated soul could be- totally used up, like her little chuckles at her former self were her last defence against circumstances battling her for her sanity. God... I wanted him...

And she still did... A part of her... The part that wasn't too tired or broken to feel anything. It wasn't always easy to find, though...

Suddenly, she couldn't stand his touch. The warmth that she had sunk into now seemed stifling. Ada jumped out of the bed before she did or said something she would have regretted. She felt like no one understood, even though sadly, the man she left in bed did. She felt like she was going mad but Ifeanyi felt something even worse; that his wife was unravelling and there was nothing he could do about it.

Ada was standing by the window, staring out of it with the same aimlessness she felt typified her existence. Ifeanyi thought he had reached her finally, but she was gone again. Even Mama thought his arrival was the cure for Ada's silence. Yet, even the person she loved most in the world could not drag her from the depths of the consuming darkness she felt herself plunging into. Four times... Four times...

"Baby..."

She didn't answer. Not because she was avoiding him, but because she didn't feel like she was that person anymore. The very word irritated her. Like the love she felt. Or used to feel. I don't know anymore...

"Ada... Please talk to me..." Ifeanyi sighed so deeply and sadly that Ada felt for one second that he might understand what she was feeling. He embodied the hopelessness she felt. One second. Then the darkness sucked her back in.

"Mama told me Mama Ifeanyi was here..."

Ada used to find it funny when Ifeanyi called his own mother that. If only she saw that it was a cruel joke fate would come to play on them. Mama had turned out to be more of a pillar of support to them than his own mother. In fact, to stretch the metaphor, his mother actively took a sledge hammer to that pillar at the slightest provocation. Ada pictured Mama Ifeanyi hammering away at a pillar. It cracked her up.

Ifeanyi didn't know whether to be relieved that his wife was laughing for the first time in a long while or to be afraid that her mind was leaving her. Ada threw her head back as she laughed so bitterly that something broke inside Ifeanyi. The joy that drew him to her wasn't there anymore. And he wasn't a good enough reason to restore it. Not this time.

"She made quite the dramatic exit. Spitting and all. Her aim was quite off sha..."

She had locked herself away again. In her sarcasm. And her coldness. Ifeanyi felt helpless.

"Baby... I'm sorry... Just, PLEASE... Talk to me... Look..." Ifeanyi sighed as he stood to meet his wife by the window. "I need you to know that I am here... You are not doing this by yourself."

"Well, I would hope not. Killing four children is a huge responsibility to shoulder alone." She didn't even look at him as she spoke, focusing on the mother hen outside the window leading her chicks across the grass. She was going to count them but stopped. If there were four of them, she might have screamed.

"Ada, why are you being like this? You know she is just saying her own... It has nothing to do with us. Just forget her... Don't..."

"WHAT?" Ada spun sharply to face Ifeanyi as she directed all the anger she felt at the one person she still cared for. She wanted to stop but the words poured out of her like rain. The clouds had been too dark and too heavy for too long to hold back this down pour. It was too much for her.

"Don't what? Question this miraculous plan of the Good Lord to take four of my children before I even know them? Or accept the fact that your family blames me for it... God... I don't even know which is worse... My mother wants me to pray, your mother wants me to leave, you want me to talk..." Tears welled up in her eyes and in one flash Ifeanyi could see the internal struggle they hid. "Well, maybe I just want to die."

"Baby... Don't..."

And in another flash, she honesty and vulnerability he thought he saw were gone. "DON'T CALL ME THAT. Your baby... Your babies are DEAD."

Anger flooded Ifeanyi's veins. He glared at the woman he married and turned to leave the room. Ada wanted to make him stay, to tell him she loved him and she was sorry... To tell him she just wanted him to hold her... Instead, she watched the space between them widen until her husband slammed the door.

======================================

Yep. There is it is... Let me know what you think of the story so far and if you would be interested in continuing it. :)

P.S. M is refusing to contribute because she thinks she can't write so I would appreciate a petition of some sort to force her out of this oniwahala stance that she is adopting. :D

-F

Am I Exotic Enough For You?

2010-11-14T11:38:00.004Z

Hey guys... Guys??? Is anyone there??? *Crickets*

OK... I abandoned the blog. You would too if you were in Hong Kong. Okaaaaaay? Don't hate. APPRECIATE! LOL... OK NOW... No vex. It's all my fault. M has had loads of ideas and has been on my ass to blog but I had little time and inspiration with which to do so. So sorry M, sorry blogville. You still dey vex? AHN AHN CHILL NOW! LOL

Well, as usual, M and I each have our take on this issue so here goes.... I apologise in advance cos this is kinda long. It's not punishment sha- cos if I say so myself we don't write too badly at all. :D

So here we go ...

*** M here

My hair doesn’t brush my back?
My lips aren’t naturally strawberry pink,
My eyes aren’t blue or hazel
I don’t have some Mega Ultra Brazilian Bum
I’m not petite
I’ve got dark hair

So then, am I Exotic enough for you?
When F suggested this topic, it was like she was reading my mind or something… Guys now at days are only interested in Girls that look like they are some Brazilian half cast Mulatto babe exotic. So what that means in essence is that for those of us who don’t fit the bill, we are left with the scraps off the table, you know the guys who aren’t as cool or SWAGY as the others. FYI I don’t believe this statement is true. I don’t even understand where this comes from, even one has their individual taste in men, for example I like tall men with nice asses. So it could be fair to say that I have no racial preference. NO wait actually I do, this may come as a surprise but I do not find black men physically attractive. What that means is that when I see a black guy I don’t go all ‘gen gen’ rapist mode, it’s when I get to know them that I start to think... ‘Oh you know this guy is not half bad’ and they start to become physically appealing.

I’ve gone off on a tangent, now back to the topic at hand, I feel no way about this personally,(I mean you can’t tell Men to change their preferences ) but it’s still a very alarming and disturbing trend, not because it affects me personally but because of how girls/women reacted to this. As a result women bleach, Spend their hard earned money on all these exotic weaves, Modify their bodies (have friends that have gone under the knife to remove and add things), and wear contacts not regarding where it comes from (I have seen people borrow contacts BTW) just to suit some stupid stereotype that, looking like an AF BIMBO is hot.

I mean there is nothing wrong in doing these because you want to, I wear contacts and I weave up. But doing it to conform to the taste of some small boy with poorly working apparatus is foolish.

So I’ve got short black hair,
I wear lipstick (occasionally)
I wear glasses (Prada ones though)
I don’t have a porn star Bum
I’m tall

I’m not very exotic but neither are you.

************************************************************

*** F Here

Slavery isn’t a crime perpetuated by one race against another. At least not anymore… It’s now a state of mind- an inferiority complex inflicted on one’s own race by oneself. I’ve come to this realisation because of the comments, preferences and trends I have observed within this race we call “black”. A Naija guy (born and bred) tweeting that naija girls are not fine… An African woman obsessed with sewing an oblivious South-American or Asian woman’s hair onto her head… An entire race striving to be what it is not.

Sugabelly once blogged about that resonated with me. The reason we have these ferocious “black is beautiful” campaigns and affirmations is because we need them. We NEED to hear that we are these things because noone says it otherwise. White doesn’t have to be reminded that it is beautiful… European hair does not need a natural hair movement to spread the word about the beauty of its long, silky locks… SHE KNOWS. The voluptuous, full-lipped, dark-skinned, nappy-headed girl on the other hand needs to be drilled… Infused… Inundated with these affirmations because sadly, in most cases, she will never get such admiration otherwise. Even black people ourselves idolise the fairer ones with slender features- characteristics atypical of our bodies- at the expense of those who through no fault of theirs look “too African” or are just “plain ugly”. What does “ugly” even mean, anyway? That my lips aren’t thin enough or my nose is too flat? Or that I’m just not worthy of your attention?

It sickens me that this mental slavery is reinforced each and every day by the very people it holds in captivity. Reading any black entertainment blog and the hateful comments on others’ appearance will show this. The fact that women spend inordinate amounts of money (sometimes instalmentally) on other women’s God-given hair without a credible and sustainable stream of income proves this. And the kinds of girls that our men tend to lust after further etches it in stone. The quintessential black sex goddess (read sarcasm) has an Indian woman’s hair, a Brazillian woman’s complexion and is dressed like an American video ho. Seriously. Seriously?

I cannot count how many times a guy has asked my what the fuck I did to my hair (and I quote). “I prefer you with your longer hair”, they say. You mean you prefer me with some other woman’s longer hair. I even got told that I am becoming more Nigerian, just cos said person heard me speaking Yoruba… You could all but see the negative connotations that weighed on the word “Nigerian” in that sentence. It’s like my British education is supposed to have washed away the undesirable African in me and replaced it with a more European-friendly Funmi (weave-included at a slight extra cost). I would be the first person to admit that everyone is entitled to their tastes, preferences and opinions. But something is wrong when the men whose companions we are supposed to be want to model us after something else. AND WE LET THEM. More than that, we go a step further and actively encourage them by putting down others who do not conform to the trend. My idea of the creation story was that making Eve from Adam’s rib symbolised the complementary functions that men and women have to play viz-a-viz one another. Where they falter, we should support and when we are weak, they should be strong. God knows a woman’s weakness- let alone a black woman- lies considerably in the image she has of herself. Do we really need our men and fellow women chipping away at this even more?

I am in no way arguing that everyone should claim to be pretty or expect to be regarded as such. Beauty is defined as such for the very reason that it excludes. We have the idea of beauty or attractiveness because there are things which we do not find physically beautiful or attractive. The problem I have is when this physical appearance is all a woman is judged on. Women who inspire me- Michelle Obama, Funmi Iyanda, Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison- aren’t exactly Page Six Models. But I don’t give a shit. Neither should anyone with an IQ higher than 5. Their character, their achievements… WHO THEY ARE… Those things count for way more than some myopic notion of what is exotic or not. The very idea that beauty has to be exotic in itself is stupid. It reeks of inadequacy and self-loathing. You are not whole or worthy of anything as you are. you need more Brazillian in you. Sew it in here, inject it there. Voila. Damn, you’s a sexy bitch.

-F

Let me introduce myself

2010-10-03T09:05:00.001+01:00

For the past few days I’ve been on some self-reflecting P and I’ve discovered some things about myself that didn’t know and some things that I have always suspected to be true. So I thought that I might as well share them.

I am a Liar: Well I know what you are thinking, aren’t we all? But truthfully I lie all the time… I lie to my mother when I say I’m fine, when truthfully I’m at biting back tears. I lie to my friends when they ask me why I won’t go out with them. I lie to strangers with my smile, I look like I’m truly happy, I even have this condescending glint in my eyes when on the inside the my little green monster is tap dancing on my ego (to make myself seem better I should clarify I’m hardly jealous about material things though does that make me seem better?)

I am Selfish: I am truly selfish I wonder why my friends say that I’m selfless. I was in a situation back in the day. I really liked this guy in fact at the time I thought I was in love with him. We spoke to each other every day, one day I introduced him to one of my friends, Seun* In fact on that day I called him the love of my life, I still remember smiling as I said it. I left Nigeria to come here for A levels we did the long distance thing. One day Seun called me out of the blue she said she was in London that should i come and see her. We met up in a McDonalds a few days later, I was so happy to see my good friend after a few months apart. In the middle of my McFlurry she told me that she had something to tell me, she went on to tell me that she and the guy in question had been seeing each other for a while and they were pretty serious, she loved him and he loved her. I was just looking at her in shock She went on to say that He said that he didn’t want to hurt me so he waited for her to come and tell me. She said she was my friend and that if I didn’t approve that she would end things with him she even said that He was also adamant that if I was not fine with it they will break it off and I knew he was saying the truth he was that kind of person. I couldn’t look at her, My mind was reeling, looking at my McFlurry I smiled and said it was fine, I couldn’t bear to break up two people in love.

When I narrate this story to people they think I am some kind of saint, but they don’t realise that I did that for myself. For some reason I wanted to save myself from the pain and relish the memories I had from the short time that we were together. I wanted to selfishly savour the memories that I had and the pain of them being together would further brand it in my brain.

I am an Addict: I am a JUNKIE… although I am not addicted to drugs or anything Illegal (just to let you know). I am addicted to anything that makes me feel good. Ok so I should ridicule you with some examples, I am addicted to many silly things like the sound of my mums voice (I speak to her every day without fail), I am addicted to food, I am addicted to the only man in my life AHOUSHI BYAKURAN SAMA (My laptop) and many more.. If I don’t have my fix I feel terrible. They say that the first stage of recovery is acknowledging that you have a problem, so does this mean that I am actively trying to get better? No definitely not, I am a hedonist by nature; I act in line with what feels the best. I am truly the worst type of person when I do a good deed I relish is the way I feel afterwards.

I am A fighter NOT a Lover (I think?): I like to think that I am a fighter, fighting Myself for myself, and I do. I believe that if something I want is within my grasp, why not go for it. I would rather get shot down or end up disappointed than regretting things later on. The one thing I would regret in my life when I am on my death bed would be having regrets. So I’d better work hard not to have many regrets.

I am a Hypocrite: Dear God, I am the most pretentious person I know. I talk the talk I may even walk the walk but truly I know that I don’t mean half the things I say or do. For some reason I try hard to walk on the Straight and narrow not for myself but to show people (my friends) what they should be doing. I mean I try to do it for myself of course but at some point I find myself keeping up appearances.

I am a Stalker: Well this is less drastic than the ones I have mentioned earlier, but truthfully I do stalk people and I can’t help it. I have to know where people are at all times if not I believe that they are lost or dead.. F can testify to this… If I don’t hear from her in like 3 days I am convinced that she is lost somewhere..

I am not funny: when I talk to my friends they always end up laughing, WHY? They say I’m funny but to be truthful I’m not funny. My LIFE IS a never ending JOKE! Some of the funny stories I tell can never happen to anyone else because they will not allow themselves to be put in that situation

* let me stop there before you know me better than I know myself

Thanks for reading my Psychobabble

Musings of a Nomad...

2010-09-25T06:52:00.000+01:00

I left Nigeria three years ago. First it was for England, now it is for Hong Kong. I have been given an opportunity to receive a world-class education and an amazing cultural experience. Many of my peers back at home in Nigeria either think I am immensely fortunate or completely insane. Yet, the grass is always greener on the other side. They tell me I am having a once-in-a-lifetime experience which will open doors for me in future. I cannot disagree with this in a show of false modesty. This really is a chance that few people get in life. Still, it does not change one fundamental fact.

I am homeless.

I have a house. I have “places to crash“. Yet, I have no home. I lost the only home I have ever known three years ago when I left in pursuit of an impressive degree. When I go back, not much has changed. My parents still live there; the same neighbours still crack jokes about how tall I have grown. But I no longer belong. Abroad, I cannot fit into my new surroundings- my dad says it is culture shock. At home, I have nothing in common with my childhood friends- new ones say we have grown apart. What any of this means is unclear to me. All I feel is that I have been uprooted from all I have always known and now, I am drifting.

This isn’t a search for pity. Making a case that my exposure to these new experiences and opportunities was inflicted on me would be ungrateful at best or even stupid. I am merely collecting my thoughts: I am coming to the realisation that in order to gain these, I traded my sense of shelter- one of the most natural instincts that a human being has. There is a reason why animals of all shapes, sizes and species return to their burrows, caves or nests. All God’s creatures desire warmth: we all seek to return to that place of safety- the place in which we feel most like our true selves. For the last three years, all I have had are residences. Spaces in which I bided time as I studied and explored my different environments. This is not going to change anytime soon. Only in the penultimate year of my undergraduate degree, I still have a long way to go.

This conclusion is one which I struggle with constantly. The fact that one of the few things I truly value is out of my reach is not easy to cope with. Yet, sometimes, before sliding into unproductive spells of self-pity, I think of my mother. The strongest woman I know has traversed different countries and cities, all in the search for a better life for her family. Many times, she embarked on exhausting business trips to remote places and even left the home and job she was accustomed to in order to marry my father and care for her children. Yet, she remains the source of warmth and strength that she has always been. Wherever she is, she is the help that those who rely on her depend on. Now, I wonder? What really is home? Is it a place from which you derive succour? Or is it more abstract?

I now think “home” can only be found in those whom you love. All these years I thought I missed the little area of Ibadan in which I grew up. In hindsight, I see that what I missed were the connections I made while I was there- connections which have waned over time. What I truly mourn is the loss of these relationships and my inability to form others as meaningful over the course of my study abroad. My mother and her sacrifice, my father and his wisdom, my true friends and their comfort, and maybe one day, a good man and his love… These constitute what I call home. My home is not as complete as I would like it to be right now but it is said that good things are worth waiting for.

So I wait.

Summer, weight and Blind dates

2010-09-20T03:43:00.002+01:00

Dear BLOGWORLD...

I am here to Beg and plead for your forgiveness, I promised to blog a lot this summer but this summer was CRAZY (not in a good way as in nothing went according to plan at all). Let me gist you guys a bit about my summer – 1^st of all I was forced to stay in the UK for an extra month to wait for my brother and then finally I went to Nigeria I spent two weeks in peace AND THEN I had to be rushed to London because my Aunt was involved in an accident and I had to take care of her kids (She’s ok now though). Thus my summer was cut short after 2 weeks of babysitting my cousins who are Darlings in small doses but when exposed to them for long periods of time let’s just say that Children are not on the top of my list. My flight back to Nigeria was Traumatic my plane was delayed in Heathrow then when I got to Spain (I flew Iberia) I missed my flight to Nigeria … ERGH It was disgusting. Yeah I think that’s about it there were loads of other things but seeing that it is 3 am I can’t remember them right now.

Oh I should mention one good thing happened to me this summer, I met this Awesome Japanese Guy while sauntering around Camden town with F. He was so awesome, while I was in London I stalked him ehn lol. He ran a stall and sold traditional Japanese food, I spoke a little Japanese to him and he was impressed and now I have my first Japanese friend. Oh and every day he always gave me free Takoyaki . Oh and one day he brought Omurice from home for me.. t’was wonderful

ANYWAYS I hope everyone’s summer was better than mine? (I’m sure it was)

Another thing I wanted to talk about is my weight, I have been struggling with my weight for years and right now I feel like a failure. I know all the rules of dieting I’ve done it all but I just can’t lose weight. I’ve just turned 21 and I thought at least by now there would be some progress but Alas NOTHING… This weight is killing me literally and it just makes life difficult, anyways I’m graduating at the end of this academic year so I intend to lose some weight before then (pray for me xx)

And lastly before I return into the arms of the only men that keep my company at night (fictional characters ) I just think that I should broach this topic once and for all I might do a long arse post on it eventually. I have been officially single for three and a half years now. A lot of people I know think it’s really sad they go >> ‘aww M what did he do to hurt you? Not all guys are like that’ ok so I won’t lie that I have been hurt along the line and very badly so but that’s not the reason I decided to be on my own for so long. I was going down a very dark road. I realised that no one is going to help me get through it. No one is going to love me or treat me right if I don't love myself. it was hard but i had to cut out all the toxins from my life> I simply wanted to give myself time to heal... Now everyone I know is trying to fix me up with their slightly mental friends and deliciously devilish cousins>> and they all know my taste damn!!! I had a few forced blind dates recently and I was impressed but I need to be strong... LOL

Over and Out

M for Misunderstood

Why I Love Blogs

2010-09-07T16:07:00.003+01:00

Lately, I seem to have fallen into a lull... Lost the "blogging mojo" like most who have gone before me have claimed. I saw this as just an excuse until Mr Mojo carry him bag and baggage waka commot o! But he seems to be making a strong comeback... And this is why...

1. Blogs make me angry

Sometimes freedom of expression leads to expression of stupidity. Linda Ikeji wrote a heartfelt post about witnessing two boys eating from a refuse dump in Oyingbo, Lagos. This made her question the validity of so-called "men of God" who accrue stupidly excessive amounts of wealth for the "spread of the Gospel" which, interestingly enough, seems to only be possible through the acquisition of private jets and the provision of expensive university education. The woman was perfectly justified and I agreed with her completely- no sane person can read that post without seeing where she was coming from. Yet I seem to have overestimated how many sane Nigerians we have surfing the internet. To avoid re-igniting the anger I felt when I read some of the ignorant results of brainwashing which were left on her post as comments, I will recall only one. For your reading pleasure...

1. You should have just mentioned issues without putting one man's picture. You are wrong to have done that.

2. You mentioned that you saw 2 boys picking things on refusing dump in oyingbo.... you are also someone child, why are u not picking things on the refuse dumps?

3. You have a car don't U? & if you don't, use your money to send these people to school & feed them instead of buying or riding a car.

4. I really don't want to discuss this issue because it is really not worth it. But I used to have very deep respect for U until i read this from you.

5. If U have issues with these men, as a journalist or whatever U call yourself, U owe it the right to investigate their lives very well b4 U just bust out with this.

6. Obviously, you are not a christian & u can be excused for your ignorance. Finally, you are in no way different from these men. If you are in their shoes, U will do worse.

It is people like you who go about sowing seeds of disobedience in the minds of the innocents. If you have no clue about these men. SHUT UP & FACE YOUR BUSINESS.

There are too many things wrong with this comment. REALLY. For the purpose of this post and to hold myself back from a typing frenzy, I will focus on one point in this argument, if you can call it that. NUMBER 6. NOW. Does it take adherence to a particular faith to recognise injustice? Does the fact that Linda might be more of a dick if she was a man of God herself excuse what is happening? WHY is this person justifying their actions on these grounds? So because power and wealth corrupts, noone is allowed to criticise corruption? I need to stop.

2. Blogs give insight.

Solomon Sydelle put up a review of some sorts about a fascinating article on another blog regarding the Northern Elite in Nigeria. The situation of the country and the fact that it has been ruled by the North for most, if not in actual fact all of its existence as a self-determining nation is one which is not lost on any Nigerian. Most would even argue that both issues are linked- but this is not the point of this post. What struck me was the fact that I never considered the underdeveloopment in the northern region itself. I am Yoruba and have never been anywhere outside of the southern parts of Nigeria which is significantly more developed than the north. Yet, due to the vastness of our country, many never venture far enough to see this. All I knew was that our leaders have mismanaged our country and things all across the nation are going to shit. I never considered that so many people in positions of power actually come from the more deprived part of the nation. This amplifies the tragedy, in my opinion. It is bad enough that you are embezzling this money but EVEN YOUR OWN PEOPLE ARE NOT GAINING FROM IT. These posts gave me a whole new perspective on how bad things really are in the country we call home.

3. Blogs tell the truth.

Maybe it is the anonymity of the internet or the opportunity to just sit in front of a screen and vent, sharing your opinions with people across the world... Whatever it is, I love the honesty and clarity with which many blogs address issues. I read a post on Golden Mind today called "Our Generation is in Big Trouble". It seemed to sum up different vices I had observed in society, but never put together in one coherent train of thought. There are so many things which she pointed out that are so true that I will have to refrain from repeating them here. The word "PREACH" comes to mind. The question remains... What are we going to do about this?

***

So there you have it. In the past few days, these three blogs have reminded me of why I became interested in blogsville in the first place. The summary is that blogs are challenging. They make you angry, give you issues to reflect on and open your eyes to the realities of those who write them- realities which you begin to see as your own as well. I really think you guys should check them out.

-Prodigal F

:)

Girl WITH THE FAKE BOOTY SAY WHAT

2010-07-22T11:37:00.003+01:00

I was walking around town yesterday, lugging around a mini Ghana-Must-Go full of all the things I brought for my naij people. Why must they send me everywhere... Even one of my friends who I am not particularly close to asked me to buy her blackberry she even specified the model she wanted I think it was Blackberry curve 9700 or so. When I asked why she wanted one she said that it was for her boyfriend. SEE ME SEE TROUBLE, I have turned into a millionaire abi

Anyways McDonalds and I had been playing some kind of depraved game of hide and seek, No matter what I did whenever I looked up I found myself in front of the Haven of awesome ICECREAM or I saw somebody having ice-cream. (BTW I have an unhealthy addiction to Mc Flurrys I used to have them during winter, but it's getting better). Whilst in McDonalds ordering my ice cream I ran into a group of Nigerian girls that attend my university and they are the typical Nigerian girls you know weaved up with some Brazilian, short shorts, bangles and annoyingly loud. Amongst them is this girl whom I shall call Biliki who we all know has had some work done: nose job, boob job, lipo and maybe even a Nikki Minaj (Bum implants). These girls started talking to me I was reasonably pleasant mainly because of the ice-cream.

They were talking about self respect and asked of my opinion and I said that I don't feel pressured to do things to change myself if people like me they should like me for who I am.. Biliki agreed with me and uttered the following statement…

'Self respect is really important (ok so far) … Girls are really fickle changing themselves just so that they are more attractive to guys (isn't that what you did? But it's still ok) Like me I had my boob's done to improve my balance' ................ Just to clarify a breast enhancement to improve balance…

(At this point I can say no more)

Begging for Votes :)

2010-07-20T01:22:00.002+01:00

OK guys... Those of you who have read previous posts on this tiny blog we have here will know that I am trying to improve on my writing. The folks at Naija Stories are really helping writers like myself because they provide an avenue to develop our skills. I try to enter as many competitions as I can find so the Best Nigerian book contest is my latest attempt. Kindly go over to my entry and rate it in order to vote. All votes from one to ten stars are appreciated, depending on how generous you are feeling. lol. THANKS!

-F

F&M's COOKING SPREE

2010-07-18T22:53:00.007+01:00

F came to visit.. and As per usual we created culinary awesomeness.. But this time we decided to document it.. :-) ... F is going away for a year on placement So we decided to cook a years worth of food in four days.. But that didn't work out .. I guess Quality is better than Quantity..

Our Visit ENDED with fireworks

LASAGNA

We Know this looks BAD

Inter-woven BACON YUM

Homemade Burgers.. WE ROCK

THE FINISHED RESULT.. Oh and by the way those are sweet potato fries

More of the Finished Product...

(Oh and by the way The Latter meal is the Bacon Jack Burger By Man-meals Check out some more of their stuff on youtube http://www.youtube.com/user/manmeals1).. What can I say we eat like MEN..

I know it's been a while but...

2010-07-08T22:13:00.001+01:00

"It was so painful... It was like a slap to my ovaries..."

:)

Miscellaneous

2010-07-08T16:47:00.004+01:00

The first question to ask is, has anybody watched the first ever incarnation of the Addams family (it was done in the 1960's and in black and white)? If you haven't you should, ITS AWESOME… It's not as stupid and full of gore as the others. When I inform people of my love for the Addams family, they immediately look at me like some kind of freak like I have a massive mole growing out of my face with worms coming out of it (eww I just grossed myself out a bit) No offence to anyone who is afflicted with A mole as big as half your face with worms though. But yeah that's the look.

If you haven't watched it, you should! again I say IT'S AWESOME! The original story is mainly about miscommunication, misunderstanding, tolerance/patience, non-conformism and so on. The Addams family although they are weird they mean well, they are willing to help anyone who is in need and they think the best of everyone else. But just because they are a different they are shunned from society. SHAME ON YOU SOCIETY lol

*OH I should mention, I've been obsessed with them for a while, BUT F got me the DVD box set for my 21^st birthday. So lots of love to F is a microscopic bit of homo intended LOL.

ANYWAY...

The purpose of me writing this was that some weeks ago I heard that there's an Addams family musical, and being myself I was crazy excited and I went and started doing research on the cast, the crew and so on. Two hours into my research I was slapped in the face with a concrete brick when I found out that it was only showing in America (I know I should have been the 1^st thing I checked). I called F (in tears) who promptly laughed at me and reassured me that in a few YEARS it should come to the UK. At first I was temporarily satisfied but after a few hours I realized it was not enough thus I am Heartbroken (speaking of heartbroken why does that word exist, the heart can tear or even be pierced but broken, really!!). But as they say Delayed Gratification is best right so I shall be anxiously waiting and probably waiting in vain for them to come to the UK. ****Extreme SADFACE****

*Oh and someday soon compile my list of ppl who have changed my life.. (just a warning but some of them are not real.. but we'll cross that bridge when we get there) LOL

She don Kolo

2010-06-25T21:10:00.004+01:00

Yo Blogitos and Blogitas,

Hisashiburi ne (LONG TIME)... My summer Holiday is well and truly underway, all I've been doing is knitting, playing my Wii, going to the gym (painful, in fact it is like a daily dose of torture), Reading, waiting my exam results to come out, Learning a new language (Japanese), watching anime and lazing about.

My 1^st love Naruto

(Erm I can't remember where I got it from tho. See Google images)

Brain touch, Kolo, madness and a lot of longass English words that mean mentally unstable… I have used many of those words to describe myself all through the 21 years of my life. Because I'm a little bit different, I'm awkward, I laugh for no reason, and my life has always been a series of highs and lows. There are times I've felt so unbelievably sad and I would be depressed for weeks and there are times I'm as happy as a butterfly and nothing can touch me! And it's been hard to get people to understand me properly, I've had and I have friends that just don't get me and thus this has been a source of numerous fights.

People who go through life with such problems often find it hard, I did and still do… everyday situations are more complex, emotions cloud your every thought and action and every decision is not rational they just tend to happen and I just live with the consequences.

Anyways the point of saying all this is being a bit different has taught me to fight, Fight myself for myself. I've accepted my KOLO in that I would not let It define me, I own it… abi is it not my own. I know that in life there are things I can change and things I can't. For the things that cannot be changed I accept them but for the things I can change I will fight till the end.

So whatever you are having trouble with, whether its Family, Friends, Relationships or maybe even your madness… Fight for yourself and do your best fighting!

Sorry I didn't mean to go all preachy...

xxx

Miss M for Madness

Our Nigeria and Youth Culture

2010-06-03T17:08:00.002+01:00

The rise of youth culture in recent years is one that has been hard to miss. The peculiarity of this rise in the Nigerian case is that this culture is so decidedly African. The explosion of the Nigerian music industry is the most obvious example of this. Speaking pidgin has become the norm, artistes want to slot in indigenous languages in their songs and wearing Ankara is no longer just a punishment meted out to you for your grandmother's burial. Youths seem to be embracing their roots, particularly those furthest from the mother land. Students abroad tend to be more obsessed with Naija music than those at home, for instance. Naija music and entertainment blogs like NotJustOK and Bella Naija draw their subscribers mostly from outside the shores of Africa, though they tend to be of Nigerian origin. Is this really a renaissance or just over-compensation?

Yes, it could be argued that this movement is a positive thing. People want to wear T-shirts that say "Proudly Naija" or "Never Forming", proudly proclaiming their Nigerianness. (So I made my own word, deal with it. :p) We want to dance to our people's music. We want to sew cute Ankara styles. We want to speak in our mother tongue. Yet, one "commot" or "how u dey" from time to time does not a Nigerian make. How many of these people who "claim their roots" can genuinely relate with those roots? You claim to be "proudly naija", yet the first thing that comes out of your mouth when you hear Da Grin rapping in Yoruba is "God, he's razz." Let's admit that the wave of admonition he has received is greatly influenced by his untimely death, but I digress. You blow pidgin with your guys and slot in a few Yoruba words here and there to feel down-to-earth but at the slight glance of a white guy, your accent miraculously becomes British. Or American. Or confused. Depending on how well practised you are... :p

How could I go on without mentioning "conspicuous consumption", as my father calls it? A significant part of our modern Naija youth culture is this selfish spirit of excess. You watch tv, see Trey Songz singing next to this insipid looking pink bottle... (p.s. I swear that Nuvo of a drink looks like Pink Lady... Who remembers that weird "non-alcoholic wine"?) So what do you do? You spend your father's hard earned money to buy such a frivolous thing, only to "pop" shit all over the floor of some dingy club. Really? I have no problem with enjoying life. The point is that you should have earned it. Our parents have payed their dues and can decide to buy the finest wines if they want, because they have earned it. Quite frankly, I have no idea what a lowly student is thinking trying to wear Louboutins and pop champagne. Which money did you make that justifies such extravagant tastes? By force sha, you want Brazillian hair... You better sit your ass down with your Expressions extensions, New Look shoes and Vodka and Coke. Longthroat. *Hiss*

I guess the point of my rant is that there is something wrong with us. It's not just a black thing, either. Those in other countries could feel free to enlighten me but I swear the pretentiousness and excess appears to be a Naija thing in this England. Yes, the apparent move towards our culture is a good thing- but if it has no real impact on who we are, what is the point?

Our Nigeria: An Introduction...

2010-05-25T06:22:00.003+01:00

The point of this blog was to put our discussions in writing. From the perception of rape to the quality of naija films (LOL) to the meaning of our faith, M and I have always had really meaningful gist sessions that ended up with her Royal Highness saying "You know we should start a blog?" (Followed by me thinking she was insane... :D) Most of our talks come back to the Nigerian slant on many of these matters. The good, the bad and the ugly. So we have decided to do a series of posts about OUR Nigeria- the way we see her and the way her people think and act. The topics we have so far are:

Youth culture
"Am I your mate?" :)
Politics
Religion
"The Virtuous Woman"
And the big one... Sex AND/OR Marriage.

This is a tentative list... More topics might be added as time goes on... Once the debate starts, it may rage on until we shut down this blog. Be afraid, be very afraid!

Ello Ello

2010-05-22T16:04:00.001+01:00

Hey everyone,

I have not Abandoned the blog I've just been really busy with exams, coursework, and possibly a mid life crisis… But I'm happy to say that I'M DONE WITH EXAMS and back to being a full time blogger! F's plan to take over the blog has been thwarted by the university semester dates (basically I'm done with Uni for the year while she is stuck in Uni until July).

I must say I missed blogging; sometimes I had to physically stop myself from doing it. SUMMARY: Blogging is addictive…

Anyways F and I have so many topics to BLOG about and I am so excited... The first on the list is a series called OUR NIGERIA and some interesting personal topics... SO STAY TUNED...

Lots of LOVE

Bad Girl BlogFest :)

2010-05-07T21:29:00.003+01:00

Iapetus999, The Write Runner is hosting the Bad Girl blogfest... Great idea... Except I have no idea what a bad girl is or how she thinks... YEP! Certified good girl right here... *wink wink* J Oh well, here goes...

She made her way from nothing... Can't fault her for wanting something...

The Dream's voice wafted through the air waves as Aisha danced slowly, surely and seductively. This was her song. She slipped off her bra as she turned to look into his eyes. Those eyes that drove him crazy. She smiled mischievously as she looked at Ayo. I've just started; he doesn't know what has hit him...

He was wild. He grabbed her with all the urgency in him. He couldn't take it anymore.

Neither could Alhaji yesterday. Nor Segun the day before... Aisha had this down to a science. The fools...

By morning, Aisha was N50,000 richer. The insult! She cursed Ayo in her mind while smiling sweetly as she kissed him goodbye. Alhaji was taking her to Paris and this idiot was giving her a few coins here and there... She knew this kiss would be their last. What a shame, she mused as she looked into his eyes for the final time. This one was cute.

Back home in the apartment Segun had rented for her, Aisha got a text. Oh God... That Nedu boy again! The poor guy was smitten. He had been assaulting her phone for weeks. I didn't even put it on him LIKE THAT and he's confused... What if he got the full dose, fa? She laughed and hissed out loud as she ignored the alert on her Blackberry that another message had come through... That reminded her, Alhaji needed to replace this phone... Too many people had it. Stupid pure water.

***

They were having a blast. Aisha and her "closest friends"- all hundred of them- were living it up at the birthday party the Senator was throwing for her. This was a suitable replacement for Alhaji, she thought contentedly to herself... The moron's wives were giving her hell. After Paris, she had cut him loose. He was still begging. It cracked Aisha up.

"I don't know what his problem is o.", she complained absent-mindedly to Nnenna, her best friend, as they moved away from the crowd. Now, they were on the balcony enjoying a scenic view of the city at night. Bright lights littered with spots of darkness... A bit like all of us, Aisha thought to herself before gathering her thoughts to chase the introspection away. Too much of that was never good. "I gave him enough sex to last him ten lifetimes; not one of his wives can even try it sef! The man is just greedy!" She burst out laughing to liven up the mood and realised she was alone.

"Haba, Nnenna, what's eating you? Or... who isn't?" She laughed again, after stroking Nnenna's arm in a show of mock concern. As she had another sip of champagne, she carried on. "I told you to gree for that banker boy... Noone wants to listen to Aisha... She is a bad girl... Maybe if you did, you wouldn't be so uptight now."

"Aisha, you need to stop this."

Aisha paused. She turned to glare at Nnenna. Intense rage began to boil her blood.

"Nnenna PLEASE."

"Aisha..."

"Don't even start." She hissed through her teeth, seething. "It's my birthday. We are at the nicest bar in this Lagos. All these bitches are jealous of me. And you want me stop? Stop what? Enjoying my life?"

Now, it was Nnenna's turn to laugh. "Who do you think you are talking to? I know you... You don't care about the champagne, the labels, the lifestyle... It's the sex. Aisha... I love you... I love you like my own sister so I have to tell you the truth. You can fuck all the men in this town..." Nnenna pointed out of the balcony to prove her point. "All of them, Aisha!" She sighed and her voice softened and looked into her friends eyes as her heart broke for the vacuum she had become. "It still won't take that loneliness away..."

"SHUT UP! Which stupid loneliness? I don't have time for this... When you are bored, you will leave the same way you came." She turned away from her friend as she leaned on the balcony, forcing herself to disregard all Nnenna had said.

Nnenna shook her head and smiled sadly. "You still love him. It's killing you already; you might as well admit it." With that, she walked out. Aisha wished the darkness below would swallow her whole.

Last Line BlogFest

2010-05-01T01:18:00.008+01:00

OK... This is the height of writer's block. Lilah Pierce , the Good Grief Writer, is hosting the Last Line BlogFest. I couldn't think of anything so I reposted an excerpt from a story I wrote called "Born to Die" (the final bit, of course). I'll try harder next time... :s

Background info for non-Nigerians/non-Africans... An abiku is a child in yoruba culture who is believed to be cursed and/or evil as he/she is believed to torment the parents by dying at a young age and being reincarnated only to leave his/her parents bereaved all over again. The title of the story is the direct translation of the word "abiku". It's sad cos all it is is a horrible coincidence of parents losing their children during infancy but well... There are aspects of every culture that can be found wanting.

The MC is believed to be an abiku in her home town so she runs to the city to start afresh... Yet, she hasn't escaped her demons... Enjoy (or not)...

I sliced. The pain welcomed me with the familiarity of an old friend. Where people had failed to, my pain had always been there to embrace me. It had been my life-long companion and would be with me till the end. I watched my veins gently whisper my scarlet secrets to the earth. It was the dead of night. The market had been deserted. Here I was, in a makeshift stall, with neither friends nor family and nothing but a shoplifted razor to my name, but I felt more powerful than I ever had. I took ownership of that death sentence and decided it was time for it to be fulfilled. My whole life, I had waited for help, understanding and love from others. Finally, I took control. I hated my life so I did something about it.

Yet, I failed at even that. Now I am staring outside the window of a general ward at the University College Hospital. Some misguided Samaritan must have found me. If only they knew the importance of what they had interrupted… Another bitter laugh wells up inside me as I inspect the bandages placed on my wrists. It is another excruciating irony that these fabrics intended to save my life are the very obstacles to my salvation. I want to bleed away my frustrations, bleed away my loneliness, bleed away my pain. I need to. I will.

In the village, they were waiting for me to die. It‘s only a matter of time. I am determined. After all, abiku is my name. Death is my purpose.

Body language BlogFest

2010-04-24T13:09:00.004+01:00

And the blogfests keep on coming... :D Harley D. Palmer of Labotomy of a Writer came up with a body language blogfest... The idea was to write a story with no dialogue whatsoever... The characters are supposed to communicate somehow without speaking... Awesome but scary idea! Anyway, here goes... :s

Ada remains mute. She still hasn’t called Ifeanyi. She can’t.

***

The visitors have gone. One by one, with a knowing nod directed at Mama, they crept out of the ward. Now, Mama is sobbing quietly. She reaches for her daughter’s hand but Ada recoils sharply as if her mother’s touch could scald her. With reluctant resignation, Mama sighs and leaves the room to get some air.

***

The door creaks open. She doesn’t bother to turn around to face whoever it is. They will leave eventually, anyway. Suddenly, she is enveloped in the familiar warmth of her husband’s arms. Mama must have called him. Her whole world now lies in this cramped hospital bed. Ifeanyi kisses her neck and pulls her closer. Ada bursts into tears.

10 Things We Love...

2010-04-14T02:15:00.006+01:00

Sugabelly tagged us after receiving her 101 Award from Eccentric Yoruba (kick-ass name, by the way)... So we attempted to find ten things we both love... :S Fear not, folks. WW3 was averted. We came to an agreement but decided not to rank them after the first two cos, well... it might have been WW3... :)

1) Our mothers. Yes, we are cheesy like that. :D :D The unwavering sacrificial love of the African mother is mind-boggling to say the least. Think of the men they tolerate... SMH.

2) Church. The things it does for your mood and spirit. Enough said.

The rest...

3) Damaged and emotionally distant men. I.e. SEXY men. LOL... Think Chuck Bass, House (only M finds him sexy, just thought to STRESS THAT.) and some anime characters F knows nothing about since M is the afficionado (Gaara, Sasuke, L, Kira and Byakuya). Cos we all know we can "fix" them, right??? LOL

4) Skype. As we are currently in a long-distance relationship (No homo... well maybe a little homo is intended on M's part... But still no homo), skype is essential to keeping in touch. Plus, we get to talk for free. AWESOME! YES. WE ARE CHEAP. :P

5) Experimental cooking. It has become a kind of ritual due to the long-distance nature of our friendship to create culinary awesomeness whenever we meet up. Proceed to marvel at our products on the right... :) OK... They are from Google images. BUT... We actually made every single one of those things. AND WELL, MIGHT WE ADD.

6) Creating new words. Who needs dictionaries when you have friends? We are not sure where this ritual started (probably M's fault as the eternal source of all weirdness). Yet, we seem to find ourselves adding "-ment" to everything. So, Jersey Shore is sheer stupidment, for instance. :) Other words include "streeling" (strong + feeling, as M is love-phobic and cannot say the word).

7) CSI. This is a sore spot as F used to LOVE CSI until M ruined it by pointing out the blatant cheesiness of many of Grissom's and Horatio Caine's lines... So now we watch it together with said culinary masterpieces and laugh our asses off at the sheer amount of cheese. :D

8) Philosophy/Theology/Mythology. Now, this may appear to be cheating (three-in-one, lol) BUT it's all about the arguments/discussions we have. We are constantly analysing one issue or the other. Which is why we started this blog.

9) GLEE/SUE SYLVESTER. YES. The caps are not an accident. Think Kanye rant. We cannot decide on one so for the sake of our friendship we'll just leave this point at that. M wants to be like Sue when she grows up which F cannot understand. The woman is entertaining but surely she is miserable and lonely, hence the bitter sarcastic evil vibes she sends to our lovely Mr Schu... SMH. As said earlier, let's leave it at that. Avoid WW3, remember?

10) Nigerian movies. The poor acting, diabolical diction and shoddy direction are integral aspects of the sheer entertainment beauty that is a Naija film.

So yes... There they are. Ten things we love... We tag Kechy, Blowing Blessings Your Way (Omo your name long o!), Myne Whitman, Sosexy, RoByn LaTice, Le Dynamique Proffessor, Patrina and Gidiasianbabe.

:)

Bar Scene :)

2010-04-11T21:11:00.006+01:00

OK... So Tara over at Secret Story (gorgeous name, by the way) came up with the awesome idea of a bar scene blogfest. Shout out to Myne; I found out about this from her post. If you have the time, go for it. I think she's checking them from Monday evening onward...

Anyway, here goes... I think I might put this on Naija Stories as well... :S

*** *** *** ***

Another one.

His throat burned as he drowned his sorrows in another shot of liquid courage. He was going to need a lot of that tonight. As the loud country music he despised filled the room, he cursed the day of his birth and the joy that came with it. Ignorant joy, he thought bitterly. They call the damn thing bliss for a reason. He could imagine his mother, overwhelmed with joy from the new life she had just brought into the world. He was supposed to be the silver lining to her cloud of disappointment- his father had disappeared once he heard the word “pregnant”. For once in his life, he was glad cancer had taken the woman. At least, she did not have to see the reincarnation of her lover’s abandonment in her son. He would never have been able to leave his mother. Now he didn’t have to make that decision.

Another one.

The bartender was starting to worry. He had seen a lot in his time. All sixty years of it. The alcoholics, the cheating spouses, the dumped boyfriends and the precocious teenagers... Yet, this one was something else. He wasn’t a regular but he sure drank more than the best of them. He was asking for his twenty-fifth shot and showed no signs of slowing down, remaining as silent as the grave. Little did he know that that very thought was an omen of things to come.

“Hey, buddy, don’t you think you need to... uh... take it slow?” He knocked back an imaginary drink as he spoke in a hopelessly inadequate attempt to lighten the mood of a man who had death on his mind.

Our lonesome stranger laughed bitterly. If only the fool understood, he thought. He had “taken it slow” all his life. He had been the perfect gentleman- never one to rush a thing. He never rushed her into sex. Patiently, he waited, starving himself of his most primal need until their wedding night. He never rushed her into having children. Gently, he accepted her plans of scaling the corporate ladder first. He remembered one time he had tried to bring the issue up...

“But I just got this job! My dream job... baby...” Her voice softened. “I need time...” She smiled innocently as she always did when she wanted something. “You understand, don’t you?” Now she had upped the ante, stroking him in places he hadn’t even discovered in all his years of pubescent exploration. “Say you understand... Please, baby... “ He had nodded mutely in response as she bribed him with her body after their “discussion”. It had taken him more than a decade but now he truly understood. More than he had throughout the entire marriage. He had been duped.

The hag next to the pool table was winking at him. Not even a million shots could take him down that road, he swore under his breath. Women! With all his might, he fought back tears as he looked across the bar. They were capable of the most horrific evil imaginable, all under the well-maintained guise of being “the weaker sex.” They could singlehandedly ruin everything you had ever worked for... Thanks to two of them, his marriage, livelihood and joy had been decimated in one day, leaving carcasses in their wake. A lifeless house. A crumbling empire. A broken man.

“You can start over...”

But he couldn’t. The cancer that took his mother so cruelly had eventually come for him. Although it had bowed out of the fight after many bouts, it always had the last laugh. The very process of fighting it had left him with no future. Children were supposed to be his future. A future he had postponed for her until it was too late.

“You’re a great guy... There is someone out there for you! And it was just money, you can make it back...The most important thing is that you are still here.”

The line between intended sympathy and perceived condescension is a thin one. Hearing that the love and companionship he had given selflessly for years were actually meant for “someone” else had filled him with unimaginable rage. He had wanted to strangle them for even mentioning the money. He snapped.

She was his someone. He wasn’t still here. His someone had left and taken his soul with her.

So he had risen from the couch he had called home for the month since he found them in his bed. Their bed. He was armed with a purpose. Where he was going, he wouldn’t need this home anymore. He had ignored the calls of his patronising pity party and walked straight out the door. He kept going for miles until he came to the bar he was seated in at the moment. Yet, he did none of this until he had stalked upstairs to retrieve his only friend from his bedside table. This, unlike her, would not fail him.

It was time. He had been watching them for the past two hours. She was happier than he had ever seen her. Like her name demanded, Ewaola radiated beauty. She was the centre of attention, oozing confidence as different men tried their luck, refusing to get the obvious message that sat right next to her. The idiots laughed at his wife’s jokes and marvelled at her lover’s anecdotes. Those two really did light up the room. But they built that light by extinguishing his. And he had to return the favour.

They had been so engrossed in each other that they hadn’t noticed the loner at the far end of the bar. If they did, they would have realised he was far from a stranger. He knew them intimately, literally. Now, he was taking the last strides he would ever take towards them. He liberated his cold metal ally from its hiding place.

“DAYO!!!”

That was the last word she ever said. Or screamed. He preferred the latter. Her whore hadn’t even tried to save her, he thought, smiling contentedly. As he was led into the squad car past the bodies of his victims, Dayo remembered warning Ewa that her addiction to Friday Nights at Ronnie’s would be the death of her. For once in his life, he had been right.

*** *** *** ***

OK... I do apologise. A bar scene is supposed to be a merry one, I know. I would have thought so myself but then I started writing and it came out like this. Blame the keyboard! OK, fine! Na my fault, haba why the judgement! LOL... OK, seriously sha, I have noticed that everything I write has a dark, melancholic or twisted tone.... Maybe I need therapy. Or Barney. Or PowerPuff girls. Wait that one has evil villains in it bent on destroying the universe... :S

Anyway, feel free to critique... One major problem I have is with description... I go way into the minds of the characters and everything becomes so insular- just not that connected to their surroundings... I need help from the writers out there. How do you do it, O Great Ones??? Lol... Oh, and tenses as well... I wasn't too confident on when to use past perfect (if I remember pry 4 english correctly- you know, the one that goes "had swept", "had eaten" etc) or simple past tense... So yeah, thoughts?

Scary Foray into Writing...

2010-04-10T21:54:00.006+01:00

Hey guys... F here...

It would be safe to assume that most people blog because they have some interest in writing or another. I'm sure a lot of you know about the new initiative Naija Stories- a website for Nigerian writers to share their work, network, critique... you name it... I've always had it in me to write so I reluctantly put in a few entries over there, and even entered one for the website launch contest which fortunately got shortlisted. Did I mention I was scared out of my mind and DID NOT want to do this? Writing is the easy part, showing it to people is TERRIFYING.

Anyway, I would appreciate if you could check them out here, leave comments, criticism and even vote for my entry in the competition if you like it. If you choose to vote, you apparently need to specify that your comment is intended for consideration in the contest, but if not, any helpful hints on how to improve on the pieces would be great. Constructive criticism would mean a lot as I intend to get better at this writing thing... :)

Thanks!

If Ain't Broke, Don't Fix it... Or Do You?

2010-04-05T22:35:00.002+01:00

My mind is all over the place right now so I'm not sure where this is going. F here, by the way...

Sorry we disappeared for a while. M had coursework and I, well, had writer's block. Yet, something came up recently that got me thinking...

Where does one draw the line on body modification? Piercings, tattoos, Surgery? Sublimefemme pointed me to an enlightening article in her comment on the Weave post. The guy's argument was basically that all forms of body modification are fundamentally the same thing. You choose to relax your hair, your neighbour chooses to have cosmetic surgery, your mail man chooses to drench himself in tattoos- it's all the same. You are all changing your appearance in some way or another. Therefore, he argued that some forms of modifications should not be despised simply because society agrees more with others. For instance, wearing make-up or piercing one's ears is perfectly normal and accepted by society. Gender reassignment surgery, on the other hand, may not be viewed so simply but this is merely because society frowns upon it. The guy who wrote it argued that our aversion to some kinds of modification doesn't make much sense considering majority of our appearance has undergone some form of alteration or the other.

Now, the guy has a point... Like many argued in the weave post, hair is just hair. If we all wanted to be 100% natural so desperately, make-up, high heels, corsets (and the endless list of all that good "girly" stuff) would not exist. Yet, there must be a reason why some are taken more seriously than others. For instance, I came across a story about these twins who voluntarily underwent amputation surgery so as to swap limbs. I kid you not, people. One twin had his brother's arm attached to his chest, while the latter got the first twin's finger attached to his. Simply put, one twin now has three arms and nine fingers, while the other has one arm and one extra long finger among his ten. I would hope that at least 99.999999999% (allowing for an insane minority- after all, this IS the internet) would agree that these guys are either deeply disturbed, demon-possessed or both. Yet, why is this?

Take the issue of weight loss surgery, for instance. I accept that sometimes it is absolutely necessary as there are many people with life-threatening conditions that can only be remedied by a rapid loss of weight. Yet, the fact that someone came up with the idea of cutting people's stomachs to reduce their food intake sounds drastic to me when I think about it. Maybe the immediacy of the problem of obesity in many cases necessitated such measures. Yet, doesn't the fact that modification has reached these extremes show that there is something inherent in humans that requires them to see how "changeable" we really are? It's the same thing with cloning, for instance... Maybe this is an extreme example, but what were they doing cloning Dolly in the first place? It wasn't like they were sitting around bored, angry that there was nothing on TV and then decided to clone a living thing for entertainment. It's about pushing boundaries. Even with drugs, animal testing is followed by controlled human trials. Noone is stupid enough to put that money down just to explore the possibilities of cloning without meaning to take it further. But where exactly is "too far"?

So that's the question, guys. Where is too far? And why do you think x or y is too far? If it's about modification only being ethical when it is necessary for health reasons, like plastic surgery for burn victims, then what about activities like make-up, piercings or tattoos? In contrast, if it is only limited to aesthetic purposes, where should the line be drawn. We all know people for whom make-up is a compulsion rather than a hobby and we have all seen stars like Joan Rivers and Heidi Montag in their incessant quest for beauty and perfection (which eludes some still). Does the fact that "it is their life" make it okay? Should individual rights allow people like those twins to turn their bodies into living jigsaw puzzles to be dismantled and rearranged at will?

Over to you...

Silly rant

2010-03-12T13:21:00.002Z

M here

It's M here the quieter member of F&M. I really want to thank everyone for reading our blog. Ok so there's something bothering me! And I thought where else can air my thoughts... And the ANSWER was you guys!!

Ok so I was with my friends yesterday I don't see them a lot, university gets in the way of having a life. You know what they say about reunion sex right... not as good as make up sex but it's damn great! LOL. There was so much to say and so little time to say them in. So there we are talking and having fun when I sink into one of my contemplative moods.

One of my friends (let's call her Bisi) has vowed off men, and I don't blame her. Since we started university she has been in the centre of controversy. The Nigerian community in my university is very small. I mean really small like, if someone shook hands (in the literal sense) with someone else we all know it. OK so what triggered this mood was a statement. 'When guys do it, it's ok. But when we girls do, we're sluts and whores.' I know it's the norm, But why do we still allow it??? My friends are now afraid to be seen with anyone. They've basically been forced in to isolation, and then are being forced to do things on the extreme DL. (They were all discussing getting battery operated gadgets to replace men permanently). WHY IS IT OK FOR MEN TO SLEEP WITH A DIFFERENT WOMAN EVERY NIGHT? If he does he is a Baller, when a girl does it she gets labeled… A whore!

Why is this ok? Is it some form of gender inequality programmed deep within our psyche?

F asked me a question once that has basically tormented me for a while (mainly because I don't have an answer… I always have an answer to everything). Ok the question is … what's the difference between a whore and a sexually liberated person?

So BLOGWORLD what's your take on this??

Love Languages

2010-03-04T02:13:00.006Z

Hey… F here…

I was reading a post on Myne Whitman's blog which struck a cord with me. It was based on the idea of love languages and the possible conflicts that could arise as a result. As an avid watcher of Saturday/Sunday morning TBN while at home in Naija (thanks mum), I was reminded of this seemingly plausible argument. For those who are unfamiliar. The idea goes thus:

There are five love languages.

Gifts
Touch
Acts of Service
Quality Time
Words of Affirmation

Everyone has their own love language. The key to a successful relationship is understanding your partner's. For instance, if your love language is gifts, no matter how many times your man showers you with adoring words of affirmation, you will remain discontented. Vice versa, if yours is words of affirmation, no matter how much the poor guy sends you flowers and all that romantic crap (I do apologise, this is obviously not my love language :P), there will be a void in your relationship.

I guess at face value, this makes sense. How many times have we heard our girlfriends complain that a guy is not doing a specific thing, in spite of the fact that we wise outsiders can see so many other things he is actually getting right. Like with Myne's example, the guy in question is not a serial killer, has a good job and takes care of things at home. Fatal flaw? He is not vocal about his emotions. Big fucking deal, some would say. At least he's not a deadbeat baby daddy. Actions speak louder than words. No fucking way, others would argue. If he really loves her, why does he have such a hard time saying it? Thus, if love languages differ, does everyone of us have to be some kind of emotional translator to make things work with those we love?

Looking at it more analytically, though, the argument is far from watertight. If we are all supposed to have one predominant love language, does that mean we do not care about the other things? Take a "words of affirmation" kinda gal, for instance. Would a broke ass bum be the man of her dreams as long as he was poetic with the flow and drenched her in the sappy shit she knows and loves? If yours is "touch" (I wonder whose isn't ;) ), would a… errrm… "skilled" man be perfectly acceptable even if he was out of your sheets quicker than Britney divorced that first guy? Would touch be a suitable substitute for quality time here? Brings me back to spooning argument… I'll stop before M tears me to shreds…

Apart from the basic flaw of assuming that people have one attribute they search for in the opposite sex, there is the underlying premise that partners must change for one another. Yes, it seems like a message of tolerance. Understand your partner's love language. How nice… So what happens when you see that they speak Greek while you are Hausa, through and through? Do you have to become a Greek-speaking Hausa man? Some people would say both people bending to suit the other would be key to the survival of the relationship. Yet, we should ask where compromise crosses the line and becomes sacrifice. A relationship consists of two individuals- separate individuals- each with his/her own baggage etc. I have my reasons for not being vocal. I HATE saying "I love you". Not because I don't feel it. Just because I can't say it. If the guy I was with happened to be a "words of affirmation" freak, do I have to suck up my issues no matter how deep and painful just to please his ears? If you don't believe in something, why do you have to do it? Surely deciding to be with someone requires a significant degree of acceptance. YOU KNEW I wasn't the gifting/lovey dovey (insert quality here) type. WHY are you trying to change me?

I guess my point is, these love languages are not supposed to be distinct from one another. Instead, they should be dialects of the same tongue, if you will… Different variations contributing to the richness of the language- the single language- of love. I would like a guy who did basic acts of service like taking out the garbage occasionally so I didn't have to; a good kisser; someone who can take time out to be with me (without the pursuit of an orgasm being involved)… All these things would make me what? Love multi-lingual? That sounds quite similar to bullshit to me.

M's in the building...

F brought this up and at first I didn't know what to make of it. The way we show the people we love, that we love them. I would like to first of all state that I do not believe in love. I have a big problem accepting that this all-encompassing, earth-shattering, life changing emotion... My question is can something that HUGE exist some people think they cannot live without it, they drift from man to man from one relationship to another looking for love, some people even kill themselves because the person whom they love does not return the feeling ... (I guess I should save this for another time because I can go on and on). For this blog post let's assume I believe in love.

Ok so what are the love languages? They are words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service and physical touch, they seem quite plausible right? I mean everyone desires a partner (whether of the male of female persuasion) that does some or all of these things. Au contraire my darlings, this is some very, very smart mans way of earning some quick money. I personally give him props he basically preyed on the desires on a test group of lonely spinsters and is making a killing in the bank.

From barely looking at the five types of love languages, it's what we all what in our partner, and its true to some extent I mean some guys just sit their asses down and play X-box or Play station all day but remember to rush out a mumbled 'I love you' this is often coupled with 'can you bring me a beer' or better yet 'can you go to the store and get me a beer' (Words of affirmation). Or what about this guy (of the workaholic type) earns loads of money… he works all day and after work all he wants is a quickie but every month on payday, he remembers to buy you some diamond earrings (gifts)…

Ok RIGHT HERE I CALL BULLSHIT… so gift guy is allowed to ignore me every other day of the week and its ok for Game freak to just tell me he loves me and not do anything else all day. So it basically gives faulting partners an excuse 'you know that I show you that I love you by - - - -' ERM ... BULLSHIT!

I think that the key to any relationship is balance; I personally, think that a boyfriend should exhibit all of this things.

A kiss for no reason … Taking time out of his day to see me … A Rose just because … making dinner once in a while … telling me why he's with me

… That's my Love language

(Just to remind you I don't believe in love.. and I'm not very romantic either but I'm guessing that this is what we all want right?)

xxx

Real Versus Fake contd.: On Make-Up

2010-02-22T14:57:00.002Z

Keeping in line with the weave argument (interesting one, to say the least), we have consulted a member of the weaker sex for his views on make-up. Yes, I said "weaker", y'all know WE are the strong ones... ;) By consulted, we of course mean kidnapped and threatened at gun point to contribute to a girls' blog... God knows what M had on him... I'm guessing embarrassing nude pictures... Or worse... Evidence that he secretly watches Hannah Montana! Anyway, here's O's take on the matter. Enjoy...

-F

This is “THE!” phenomenon. As a guy, I know it is - because we (guys) kind of see it in the same light. Almost all the guys I’ve met, including myself, love girls with the natural do or without the make up (regardless of what they look like but that can‘t be true hehehe!). Maybe it’s just the excitement/horror you get from seeing a girl with it at first, then you suddenly notice there’s something different about her the next time you meet - and that difference is somewhat appealing? I don‘t know. The truth is that most guys really don’t care what girls do with their face or hair, (we’re pretty much stuck on 2 physical attributes when we meet a girl lol). But if I have to be subjective about it: I like it all natural.

There’s nothing wrong with using make up to cover up a few bumps and bruises here and there, but when a girl looks like she fell face first into a bowl of flour? Or her eye brows look like Arabian scimitars!? Or she has the equivalent of a mop stick on her head!? I kind of get freaked out. That experience actually lets me appreciate it when she doesn’t have it on, I can roll with that. Now from a girl’s perspective (and I can only guess since none of you have ever given me a straight answer about it lol) - I believe they do it for themselves. Now as a person, only YOU can know what flaws your body has. It doesn’t bother me much, but I KNOW girls really care about how the outside world perceives them (and any girl that doesn’t must be an antisocial goddess or something along those lines). And they most likely don’t do it for their guys lol, if anything they actually do it to attract other guys. But I repeat, most of us are pretty much stuck on 2 physical attributes so you ALREADY KNOW what’s up! Everything else kind of follows through. I guess the only rational explanation would be that it just gives y’all a strong sense of confidence like “nothing can go wrong if I use make up” and with respect to that, you’re actually right. We’d probably go GAGA if it turns out alright, or get creeped out and wonder what you’d look like without it.

I can honestly say now, that maybe the natural look should be shared privately anyways - It might not work for everybody (not all girls are naturally pretty), but it just feels pure and true. However if you’re going to use make up or try out a new weave: keep it natural and try NOT to over do it please - just to be safe. But if you’re talking about dress sense - that’s a WHOLE new ball game. Alas! I can only speak for myself lol.

- “O”

To Weave Or Not to Weave

2010-02-07T00:24:00.004Z

In order to facilitate this debate, some background facts are important.

1) M is a pathological weavaholic. She smells, feels, stalks weave. I do mean this in the figurative sense that she loves weave… But I also mean it literally. She smells it for the scent, feels it for the texture and stalks it online (Babes gots to find human hair sales).

2) F is sick of weave and relaxer and is therefore going natural.

Now… on to the debate.

F here...

I strongly believe that there a perception ingrained into us all (yes, even our Caucasian sisters) that straight hair = beautiful hair. I will not start the whole "Black girls want to look white" debate because it is bullshit. Majority of the white girls we see with sleek, straight locks do not wake up like that. They spray, perm and/or burn (straighten) their hair into shape every other morning. Many people of European descent actually have frizzy hair, though not in the kinky Afro sense of we dudus.

With that being said, we are all prisoners of this ideology. The view that we must do anything to straighten our hair. This is why we put chemicals in our children's hair under the guise of "texturising" or "relaxing" their hair. Children as young as three years old have this horrible thing put into their hair before they can decide for themselves. Even the ones old enough to choose can't wait to relax because they want their hair to be straight like their friends. My cousins have been berating their mothers to "get the relaxer like (insert name of classmate) since they were five or six. I myself pined for the accurately named creamy crack for ages until my mum agreed after I turned sixteen. Of course, after relaxer comes the next frontier of sewing or gluing "extra help" onto our hair. This practice even has different levels:

=> razz = synthetic (a.k.a. plastic)

=> alright = protein (synthetically manufactured, but with feel of human hair... think Pro 10)

=> wa sere = correct babe; human hair and most importantly...

=> BIGZZZ GEHLZZZZ = Remy/Brazillian hair. You are a bad bitch if you have this.

Now, I totally understand people who would call me a paranoid, exaggerating fool because weave/relaxer etc. is no more than a style. "We know we are not white and are not trying to go Michael Jackson on you, CALM DOWN! We just like the look, the style, the (whatever else… you get the point)." I also understand the versatility that weaves bring to the table. Being able to go from curly to straight or short to long without constantly assaulting your real hair is convenient and quite fun. I GET THAT.

However, this argument can only work if different "styles" are equally valid. Note that I said valid, not preferred. Someone else's dreadlocks are just as valid as the next guy's afro even if I prefer to have dreads. The real problem is the belief that hair MUST be straight, and nappy and natural is COMPLETELY out of the question. This is why I am strongly against relaxers. Sewing some extensions in or even heat-straightening your hair is QUITE DIFFERENT from chemically (and permanently) altering its compostion to achieve some form of cosmetic enhancement. Most black girls would not bleach their skin and actively tease or even ridicule those who do. Yet, many consistently do this to their hair. Forgive me for thinking there is something wrong with that.

God made us with kinky hair. In the same way, we were not born with painted faces. We can choose to take the initiative to wear extensions and/or make-up but there is a significant problem if we become totally dependent on these "additions". If you cannot do without weave or cannot leave your house without wearing make-up, something is wrong. Check yourself.

M says:

AHHH I've been dreading this argument.... I am a self confessed weavaholic, I spend a lot of my time reading, studying about weaves and their maintenance obsessing about what weave to do next etc [if I spent that much studying I would be an A+ student (sigh) ]. In summary I am WEAVE OBSESSED.

There is an argument floating somewhere in the universe about us black people trying to be white by straightening our hair… OK going be a little bit of a Geek about this I went to study the debate basically this originated with the emancipated slaves they left that to be considered as Equals they must be as similar to their Caucasian captors. F has spoken out this so I'm not going to go that much into it. OK maybe in the case of the slaves they must have had some kind need to conform. But now at days IT'S NOT TRUE. When I buy my weaves I'm not thinking "Ah this is going to make me look WHITER or it seems like a good day to conform to the White man's conformist universalistic agenda." REALLY PEOPLE it's not that bad... We live in an Individualistic society- where the aim is to be unique and our hair is a means of expression, so if I shave my hair or place another person's Hair still with the cuticles attached it's my prerogative.

Some people are blessed with the gift of long fast growing hair while some of us are left with brittle slow growing hair while some women are cursed with alopecia (baldness) now I want all those people who think that we are all CAUCASIAN WANNABE's justify that… (Insert resounding silence). Because honestly you can't, you can't give certain people a pass at being "fake" and chastise the rest of us…

Our hair is an extension of who we are and we can and should use it as we see fit. The concept of real or fake; natural or relaxed; Cornrows or weave... It's all the same; As long as it's done for the right reasons, you know 2 make you feel better, change your look, look nicer. And if it's not well …………….

ITS ALL GOOD ANYWAYS!!

Now, with all this being said... TO WEAVE OR NOT TO WEAVE?

M's Pearls of Wisdom

2010-01-24T19:25:00.002Z

F&M here... Yes, guys... M is finally back! Her exams are over and the rest is left to God (and hopefully a merciful examiner...) We are thinking of starting a new segment of posts due to the classic quotes that M comes up with on a daily basis :)

Pearl of wisdom for today is:

"That's not gossip; that's constructive criticism behind the person's back."

LOL

Chipped Nail Polish

2010-01-20T06:23:00.004Z

F here...

As the Nigerian parents in Nollywood movies say, "Show me your friends and I'll tell you who you are." For this reason, M has been like a virus in my life... Infecting me with annoying catchphrases like "Skeen", "Skeenage" and introducing me to the beauty that is Mutemath (they are a group in case you were wondering...). One thing which she did which sticks out for me, though, is a love for chipped nail polish. I am not kidding. We paint our nails just to watch them chip... It is quite a curious thing... This is quite a huge step for me considering I hated chipped polish with a passion and would take the whole damn thing off at the slightest sign of a chip... M must stand for miracle worker...

However, this whole idea got me thinking. Are we all too obsessed with perfection in today's society? Recently (as an avid stalker of the gift to humanity that is theybf.com) I came across a picture of US singer Fantasia Barrino on holiday.

http://theybf.com/index.php/2010/01/10/caught-fantasia-her-married-boyfriend-hit-the-beaches-of-barbados/ (if you care)

This woman has had two kids, I think, and was on holiday with her man. On the beach. In a bikini. With a gut. The woman has had children and has a gut. SHOCKER. If she can't wear whatever she wants while on holiday with her man, when can she? One person even had the audacity to say this:

"fantasia only needs to tone it up and STOP RELEASING PHOTOS that are not airbrushed, AND SHE’LL BE THE SEXIEST WOMAN IN HOLLYWOOD."

Really? REALLY? Enough said...

I am not by any means standing on a pedestal to preach to others about inner beauty. Outer beauty is the shit. Society cannot be worshipping it for no reason. Having others look at you admiringly, lustfully or even enviously (Ladies, we all know we love it) does wonders for your ego. Forget E, that is one hell of a high... But then, isn't it becoming a problem that this outer beauty is becoming relegated to the realms of lace fronts, double D's and flat stomachs? What happens to the other 90% of women on the surface of the earth? (Hey, I'm not a scientist so go easy on my statistics) Do we just fuck off and hope Karma deals us better cards in the next life? Does nail polish have to be immaculate to be gorgeous? How about a little chip here and there?

Going back to the quotes factory that is M, I would end on her insistent refrain... "Beauty is overrated." I find this particularly the case if we all have to look like Beyonce to be considered beautiful. Don't get me wrong, the babe is FIERCE but come on now, some of us have work and exams and studies and LIVES that do not involve hectic dance regimes and fitness plans that keep the flab in check. People say the devil is in the details but maybe true beauty resides therein as well. A stubborn mole, a crooked nose or a misguided dimple may be that cute little thing that (sorry to use the awful phrase) "adds character" which our loved ones cherish the most. I doubt that we really want these "flaws" should to become an endangered species, so to speak, such that the world becomes a clone factory full of Yaki-wearing bootylicious Beyoncelets. (Any men reading this should kindly work with me here and resist the natural instinct to fast and pray for that last line to become a reality). That would be boring. And boring sucks.

Beauty is overrated.

Perfection is overrated.

We like chipped nail polish.

Attempt to ressurect blog... :)

2010-01-10T19:33:00.000Z

F here...

Sorry we've been away... Family/Friends/Studying for exams... Choose any excuse that would be most acceptable to you... :) We hope you haven't deserted us so early on in our blog journey...

Moving on, though... After the fun and possibly excessive consumption of the Christmas/Kwanzaa (Insert desired name) holidays, it is the season of frugality and repentance, i.e. New Year's Resolutions. Personally, I do not believe in these jokes but I seem to be the minority in this case so I might stand corrected. How many people make resolutions each year to quit smoking or read their Bibles more? The whole thing is a joke... If you want to achieve something, the date does not have to be January 1st before ur determination and discipline can spring into action.

However, M happens to disagree. Her entire resolution for the year is summarised in the two words "Go hard"... And to quell any suspicions of pervy persuasions, M is not a man, so we son't mean it in THAT way... :) She wants to apply this philosohphy of focus and hardwork in all aspects of her life so I guess I'll let her off the hook for joining the resolution band wagon. If I was ever going to have a new year's resolution, I might just borrow that one ;) Hey, don't judge me... She hasn't taken out a copyright so it's not her sole intellectual property yet...

With all that being said, what do you guys think? Do you have New Year's resolutions? Do you believe that they work? Do you think F is being a cynical bitch? All opinions are welcome.

Why Should I Get Married?

2009-12-12T23:25:00.001Z

F Says:

As this title might suggest if you have seen the film, this post is somewhat inspired by the movie "Why did I get married?". For the benefit of those who haven't seen or heard of it, the movie is a Tyler Perry Production (if you don't know Tyler Perry, kindly proceed to hang yourself for poor general knowledge :P ). It focuses on a group of friends consisting of couples who go on holiday together, only to face several challenges that expose the weaknesses in their relationships. This isn't a review... More like a result of contemplation... If those involved in the real thing are still questioning, "Why did I get married?", why are most of us being pushed into it?

As an African, one would be forgiven for thinking that once a girl enters her teenage years, she begins "wife-training". This process has become a part of our consciousness, with mothers frequently heard to exclaim "Is this what you will do in your husband's house???!!!" I do not deny that the institution of marriage is one that is sacred and should be held in high esteem but should this be the measure of a successful life? A main role model of mine- Miss Funmi Iyanda- has influenced many lives and achieved more than many of her male counterparts in the broadcasting field. Yet, she herself has spoken of the insignificance of such success in the eyes of aunties who "know a pastor somewhere" who can "pray her out of her predicament". Is being self-sufficient and having a successful career such a horrible predicament which requires divine intervention?

This leads me back to the title of this post... Why should we get married? To give ourselves meaning? Or to crown our achievements? Either way, the case for marriage definitely loses meaning. If I need a man to define me, then I was nothing to begin with- something I cannot live with. If I need a man to crown my achievements and make them worthy of consideration, then society insults me on a level that I cannot accept. If it is about finding happinness, we do not need to be reminded of countless tales of domestic violence, infidelity and so on to realise that the recipe for a wedding cake does not also double as one for a joyful heart. So, I ask once again... Why should we get married?

M Says:

This is a play on the Tyler Perry movie, why did I get married? Ok guys don't tell F but I just watched the movie yesterday!! I am a Tyler Perry fan (don't get me wrong) but I was not able to watch this movie because when my mum was giving me the marriage speech she just happened to mention it and that just completely turned me off. She was saying how I have to learn to be diligent wife. I must cook and clean for my husband, tolerate his bullshit, if not he is going to look for someone else to replace me (refer to Sheila [Jill Scott] and Mike… you know the fuller figured woman and the douche bag from hell). Up until now I'm not sure if meant that my husband may leave me because I'm big or if I don't cater to him.

Dating in Nigeria is really weird. In my house my parents sat down and made a list of rules. We are not allowed to date until we turn twenty. What If we actually did that? Generally we won't know what's out there, as us girls may be disillusioned by the idea of the perfect man! Then all we'll be thinking about is getting married as soon as possible so as to keep up with every woman's nightmare THE Biological clock. Nigerian society has put too much pressure on us girls to marry, I consider myself a rebel, and I will NEVER conform to societal norms. I like to believe that I am responsible for making my own decisions.

I'm a Christian and I grew up in a heavily religious home. There's been a particular scripture that I have never been able to understand which is "Wives submit to your husbands" (Ephesians 5:22) I've asked so many people what this means and they answers are always so unsatisfactory. Why is Nigerian culture so contradictory, my parents raised me to be a strong independent woman, instilled values of self sufficiency and encourage to shy away from the status quo. The question is why do they teach you these things they do it to prepare you for marriage can't they just be taught just because they want the best or you.

I wonder why our parents got married Is it because they really loved each other or because they were expected to? (Food for thought)

Why should I get married? Or why I will not get married? I will not get married because it's what everyone expects from me. I will not get married to preserve my honour, I will not get married just because I'm in love... (Love is another topic that we'll have to revisit another time.)

XXX
F & M

M is ill!!! :(

2009-12-12T00:04:00.000Z

Half of "Half and Half" (ok, that doesn't sound very eloquent, but then again, does "half and half"?) is ill... Well, either that or she's just being a lazy ass. I would rather believe the former, although what kind of friend I am for preferring her in a sick state will probably be up for debate after this. Get well soon, luv... In fact, fuck soon... Get well now!!! x

F

Ideas... :)

2009-12-11T05:54:00.000Z

F here... if anyone thinks the "spooning" topic is too frivolous or just what we should be talking about, hit us up at neurotic4eva@gmail.com. Any ideas, suggestions etc. are welcome... We are working on a new post so stay tuned... x

SPOONING- M vs. F

2009-12-04T00:36:00.002Z

M: ARRRGGHHH. It really drives me insane. I get loads of my girlfriends telling me how awesome it is to spoon. In fact I recall a particularly awkward conversation with a friend of mine she said that the only reason why she even gets intimate with a guy is just because of the spooning afterwards. This got me thinking what's the big deal with spooning? I concluded that spooning is a pathetic attempt to prolong intimacy. Ok I know I'm being a bit harsh, when you share a bed with someone you automatically move towards the warmth on the bed (the other person). I think this is how the concept of spooning came about but giving it a name and making it appear to be intimate it's just a bit too much... I'm of the belief that When you're done you get up and move out!

F: Okay, so M is freaking out a bit… Why is spooning sooooo bad??? Maybe it is a bit overrated… I mean there are few things more annoying than listening to tales of a romantic epiphany where "I knew he was the one when he held me in his arms…" blah blah blah…. But something being overrated doesn't mean it is completely bad to begin with. It's a bit harsh to just push someone away after being intimate with them, plus is holding someone close sooo abominable??? I really think M needs to calm down…

DISCLAIMER: Both F& M would love to stress, by the way, that all theories concerning spooning fly out of the bloody window when the sexiness that is Taylor Lautner is concerned… If you are of the female gender and do not know what we are talking about, refer to the movie "New Moon"… That boy is beyond fine… More like raw sexual energy… lmao… Team Jacob, ANY DAY!!!! Sorry Edward, Beauty is overrated… it's all about lust baby!!!