Wednesday, November 3, 2010

random

Addiction: (Noun)
The state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming

I never fancied myself to have an addict’s psyche, but I guess each one of us has that one thing which we don’t realize that we are obsessively drawn to. I am not even sure if mine is an addiction, but I have discovered something about myself that quite amused me. I am crazy about magazines. Now ordinarily this is a statement which would not raise even a single strand of eyebrow. 90% of the female population likes magazines. But for me, there is something about the smell and feel of a brand new magazine that gives me something akin to euphoria
Euphoria: (noun)
an exaggerated or abnormal sense of physical and emotional well-being not based on reality or truth, disproportionate to its cause,

I am absolutely happy when I open a new magazine and I settle down to its glossy gloriousness, and devour its witty pieces and beautiful pictures. I have certain magazines that I buy every single month, whether or not I have the money. In fact I should just subscribe to them and get it over with. My only challenge is even though the popular adage says opposites attract, I got married to a man with just as much insane love for magazines, the guy kind of course. So now we are faced with the possibility of having to dedicate a whole room as a magazine library. People tell me to give them away, I look at them with daggers in my eyes. I am not selfish but I just like to hold on to my babies, every so often I go back and re-read articles from four years back.
That’s just me, if this deserves a straight-jacket, bring it on!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Assistance required Blogville, please!!!!

I cant believe i am doing this but i am near desperate (lol thats a bit drammatic) but anyway if anyone passes through this page and sees this, please help me. i am looking for a song called RICH- BY BRENT JONES AND THE TP MOBB. please help i have been looking for it for years.

Thursday, September 30, 2010

serious food for thought

A discussion with a friend today got me thinking about a controversial issue. Now if you are African ( at least southern African I am not aware of the cultures in other parts of Africa) you will be aware of the custom of paying the bride price. This is when a man decides he wants to marry a woman and approaches her family with gifts and in modern days hefty amounts of money and cattle as bride price. It is only after paying these that you get your wife and take her home with you. Now some feminists have made so much noise about this practice saying it oppresses women, that men treat women like objects because they say that they “paid “ for them. it’s all good and true in some instances but I would like to offer a different argument to the subject.

I told my friend that if I had known what marriage was like I would have insisted that he charges much more than he did for my bride price and he laughed out loud. Called me crazy but I gave him my reasoning and the conversation went something like this: (p.s my friend is married as well)

Enchante: sha if i knew what marriage was like i would have insisted that my father charges much more!

friend:iwe uri benzi chairo ( you are crazy)

Enchante: say what you want but you guys have it easy

Friend: u figure we have it easy? i might just love this argument

Enchante: yes, and dont give me BS about the expectation to provide for the family, its ancient, women work as hard. in fact we have 3 full time jobs, at work, being a mother, wife to you and a fourth, housekeeping. and all are done simultaneously, everyday, for the rest of our lives

Friend:i think the problem that u are having is that u are suggesting u guys go it all alone and we basically play no part AT ALL

Enchante: i dont know about you sha, but the average african man will get home and either start flipping thru channels or read the paper, you are lucky if he plays with the kids, then expects a hot meal in front of him, doesnt know what happens to the dishes afterwards, goes into the bedroom expects tactics of pornographic film quality and wakes up the next morning asking where the hell his blue shirt is not knowing or caring who washed or ironed it and off to work he goes. am i lying?

Friend:k, b4 i reason out, how would u have that scene played out instead? PS, i laughed!!!!

Enchante: well i would expect that when i get home, he immediately takes the kids so i have time to cook ( or even better once in a while he offers to cook) then after we eat he helps clear out the dishes, i can do the dishes while he puts them away, trust me after that i would be more than will to perform wonders in the bedrum coz i wont be as tired also i would feel appreciated

Friend: k, well, honestly speaking i can tell u men are like kids, they are not born with a nature that is fatherly or husbandly, unlike u our partners u are born with the instinct and it only but grows, u have to educate us on your needs and expectations at times, i have been told once in a while, not saying am good coz at times i just do the dishes wrong but i get to do it coz i have been informed that it helps save energy and allows for some action after hours, lol

Enchante: well you see there are few men (like u perhaps) who after being told that a little help is appreciated, actually go ahead and help. most just nod but never do it. i will tell you that one time my hubby cooked and his son laughed his lungs out and said "daddy havabike" (daddy doesn’t cook) imagine my horror. what kind of a man am i raising, what kind of husband will he be?

so dear readers, and i will insist invite comments on this one, what are your views? should the bride price be scrapped and men and women treat each other with consideration or while men will behave badly anyway they might as well pay for our services?

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

Is forgiving someone a sign of weakness?

Ok I never thought I would go back to this subject but it seems inevitable that I do. Those of you who have been following this blog will know that I had a messy break-up with my bestie and things just got downright ugly. And I told myself I was done with it, done and dusted and moving on. For a while I was, for several months I didn’t think much about it. I would always wonder of course what would happen if we were to meet. But I didn’t dwell much on it. But somewhere along the line I realized that I was no longer holding onto the grudge. Suddenly all the hurtful things that were said didn’t seem to matter anymore and truth is I kinda missed my friend. After all she had been my anchor for all of 9 years. 9 of the most important years of my life so far, when I made that transition from a giggly teen to a woman. Its tough to just throw away that batch of memories.

Anyway we have started talking again, baby steps, nothing too hectic. Now my issue now is my other friends, (we have this whole SATC thingy going on- me being Carrie of course) are giving me grief for forgiving her. They were there for me during the worst part of it, with boxes of Kleenex and supportive words. They took me dancing and got me sloshed and filled all the gaps she left. So maybe I should understand them being territorial about me and not wanting to see me get hurt again. But what I don’t understand is how they decided that my ability to forgive is a sign of weakness! How is that possible? Isn’t forgiveness supposed to be a noble, self-liberating decision? I am confused here, anyone to help me out?

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

$$$ issues

I had kinda gone MIA there simply coz I just didn’t feel like writing, nothing was stimulating me enough to want to get down to a post. And its amazing that what I usually find annoying is what triggered me to finally sit down and write. As a rule I am not a big fan of people sending forwards to my email, I don’t care how funny they are or how tragic and sad they sound, I just don’t like forwards, period. I can count on one hand the number of times that I actually read one before deleting it and even fewer times, me deciding to forward it to someone else. But then this one caught my eye, I don’t know whether it was the title, (which spoke about what women want) or if it was the fact that the first thing I saw when I opened it was the glorious hair and beautiful face that belongs to Robert Patterson (someone help hold down my cougar instincts!) anyway this whole paragraph is irrelevant to my post by the way, I just sort of enjoyed making a grand entrance and doing an intro.

The subject of discussion is one that has been done several times over, even a number of times here on blogville, but what the heck. It concerns the grand issue of men providing for their women. And I shall put a disclaimer here and say this post refers specifically to married men providing for their lawful wives (this rules out small houses for the avoidance of doubt). Now we all know that even the bible has placed men in the unenviable noble task of providing for the family as the head of the house hold, fair and fine. I have no problems with that, hell show me a girl who doesn’t want to be spoilt and pampered and I will show you a blatant outright liar. Where is the problem then you ask? One of my favorite adages is that, culture, and indeed society is dynamic. Therefore one shouldn’t feel obliged to be stuck in the dark ages where a wife’s lifelong ambition was to always thank her hardworking husband for the pair of knickers that he bought her. I think we have reached a stage where any hardworking, professional assertive woman, will graciously accept a gift from her man, but not because she cant afford it herself. I am not by any long shot a feminist ( though I am still trying to figure out why that word always evokes such negative energy from people) but I do subscribe to the motto that what a man can do a woman can do even better. So yes, I will let dear hubby buy me anything, from a pair of diamond earrings, a blackberry, a set of wheels, but not because my fine self cant cough up the dough. Simply because he is my man, and he is allowed to show me how much I mean to him by spending some cash.

P/s I am not saying the world is now rid of the Khanyi Mbau’s and the Anna Nicole Smith, but that’s a topic for another day.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

The elusive "one"

A discussion with my bestie last night planted some thoughts into my head and made me ponder over the remarkable issue of meeting "the one". Of course, watching Eclipse just before bed also made me wake up with all sorts of wonderings about life partners vis the Bella-Edward-Jacob triangle. what i am thinking is, first of all, the age old question, is there a single "one" person, soulmate, love of your life kinda person that you will ever meet in life, or is it possible that you can meet a few people and still love them intensely and whole-heartedly in a lifetime? unfortunately i am not sure i have an answer to that, it still baffles me. but for argument's sake, lets say that there is "the one", how do you know when you meet them?

I am certain its more than just a cliched catching of the eye across a crowded room, it even goes beyond butterflies or heated passion. there has to be a more unfathomable (my thats a big word) connection that is stronger than anything that could break you. you have to be able to be FULLY yourself with that person, no pretense, no trying to impress. you have to understand each other on all levels, the term i used to use when i was younger was "with your hearts beating to one rhythm" well figuratively speaking at least. You have to be able to look at that person and tell them the silliest things that get into your head, your deepest fears, your fantasies, your dreams and everything about you and know that it is safe with them.

before i start sounding like a hallmark card, i just think there is an internal radar that pulls you to that person, sometimes against your will, sometimes when it doesnt make sense. I am not sure in reality it would be the same as sacrificing your soul for that person (Bella) but it has to be somewhere up there.

i am not sure i will ever be able to define "the one" but i am a hopeless romantic, i am pretty certain the concept exists!

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Who am i

I was avidly stalking several blogs last night and if anyone has done that they know that once you start, you cant stop. Each blog links you to another and the cycle goes on and on. Anyway the point is I got exposed to so many people’s thoughts such that I swear by the time I finished I had their voices buzzing in my head, all at the same time. (((creepy))) And in a way it made me start to wonder what my own thoughts were, on several things, life, relationships, fashion, traveling, movies, music, EVERYTHING. But I thought before I overwhelm myself, I decided to take a leaf (or is it an icon) from my girl Kookie’s (page) and write about who I am.

For a while I rode on the waves of what I thought people thought I was (does that make sense?) as in I let people’s expectations of me determine my behavior and my judgment. I was molded on my perceived opinion of people on me. As much as I love my folks, I just think they worked too hard to make me a model child. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful coz it kept me out of a lot of trouble that I am better off without but at the same time, I wish I had made some of my own mistakes. So for the better part of my growing up I lived into that mould, I was always too afraid to step out of the line, I never developed wings for adventure. I had an iron clad conscience that made sure I was never tempted to bend the rules (pathetic I know we are not even taking breaking them here, just bending)

So now I am in my late twenties, and finally it dawns on me that I am my own person. That I can make decision for my own gratification and worry about the consequences later. I have the power to make my own mistakes, and learn from them and move on. I have the ability to know what’s good for me and what is not and still go ahead and do either. I have learnt which relationships are important and which ones to discard and never look back. And all that has made me into a confident, self assured person. It has made me face the world with a headstrong determination that after all is said and done; I can only be who I am and noone else. And most importantly I know better now, I will not bring my son up to be who I grew up as, with the crippling fear of the unknown which resulted me in never learning how to ride a bike, or how to swim. I shall teach him to seize life by the horns, and find who he really is, all on his own.

I can say now at the ripe, mature age of 27, I finally know who I am.

Monday, July 12, 2010

Untitled

So when we meet, pretend you are doing fine
Pretend that your heart is not broken
Smile and hold your head high
And pretend you are not about to crumble
And that your arms are not aching to hold me
Because that’s what I will do.

So when you see me, pretend I am just another girl
A person you are meeting on the street
Say hi and ask how I am doing
But don’t expect me to tell you the truth
Just nod at whatever I tell you
That I am fabulous and doing great
Though we both know that’s far from the truth.

So when we sit together
Pretend my presence doesn’t affect you
And act like you don’t miss kissing me
And that hearing my voice is just one of these things
Act like the moments we shared didn’t mean that much
For my sake, please do that
As that’s the only way we will get through this

Monday, June 28, 2010

short randomness

I just realized that I am reluctant to visit the dentist. Now this ordinarily would not make headline news, but you see my reason for reluctance is not the usual, fear of pain or whatever. But for me the reluctance is akin to the one I have to visit the gynae. There is something about having someone poking in there, judging me about my hygienic tendencies and possibly seeing who what I had done with my mouth. Its just disconcerting that’s all, there I have said it.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Hi name is Enchante, I am mum to a Cbeebaholic

A friend of mine recently asked why I never blog about my baby, and my response was that this blog is really about me and mostly me, so I never get the others roped in. but today I just had to write a post about this incredible, three and a half year old, 95cm tall living organism crammed full of energy who I happened to carry in my womb for all of 38 weeks, amazing. I always marvel at how God chose me to assist Him in bringing forth this amazing little creature. Anyway one of its characteristics is that, at 630 am, before I am even fully awake, it is at my door asking for “something”. Now this is not some code from the planet that they must come from, it is simply a way of telling me that wake up and give me some candy. Now before y’all go off at me about bad parenting, I do not actually give out any candy (most days) but this was just to demonstrate that when you are all waking up busy thinking about your day ahead, my little man just has one thing on his mind, candy.

Now the most interesting characteristic of the marvelous specie is that, at 7pm when you are anxious to watch Prime time News, he has the remote firmly clutched in his hand and declaring that we are all going to watch cartoons. Now if we are all to be honest, there is a little child inside of every one of us which never grew up and secretly enjoys watching Scooby Doo, Looney Toons etc (for old times sake we say), so naturally cartoons at 7pm would not be a catastrophe (most days). In fact I am quite a big fan of Disney Channel and I am not ashamed to say it. However, the challenge we are faced with is my little warrior is particular about the choice of cartoon channel, it has to be the British Children’s channel Cbeebees. Now anyone who has a child, or niece/nephew, cousin or friend’s child, who has had the unfortunate chance to sit through a programme on Cbeebees will know that it is SPECIFICALLY designed for ages 10 and under. In fact it should come with a strong restrictive warning about the age limit. So the little man loves it, singing along to the tunes, jumping up and down and imitating whatever they will be doing. I have to give it some credit though, it has vastly improved his language skills, and its like a revision class for his numbers, shapes, colors etc when he comes from school. However it is absolute torture for any parent to sit through it. so because of all the trauma that parents out there must be going through, I think its only proper that we form a support group and help each other through the worst years.

Hi I am Enchante, I am mum to a Cbeebaholic…….

Sunday, June 6, 2010

somebody is in trouble

Somebody is in trouble

thoughts wander and the heart races.
Excitement, giggles like a 14 year old
Its madness, sheer utter madness.
I wake up excited and look forward to the day starting.
I smile to myself as I count the minutes til I can get to that magical place.
A place where just for that moment I can forget who it is I am,
I can forget what it is I have to account for
I can just be…exist…live…float.
I laugh. I smile; I even get some thrilling shivers once in a while.
Its exciting, exhilarating, rejuvenating.

I speak, I tell, I verbalize, I express.
I hear, I listen, I comprehend and sometimes miscomprehend
its part of the charm, the magic, the enchantment.
Its novel, its new, and it shall soon pass I am sure of it.
Once the euphoria is over what will remain is solid, grounded, meaningful.
But while its here I shall enjoy the foolishness of it.

No I am not newly in love, far from it.
I fell in love a while back and I am still very much in love.
I have just been made to feel 16 again,
when crushes I had but dropped them just as fast.

©Enchante

Random musings

Its been gnawing in my head all day today, incessantly as if taunting me. Until I just had to give in, weak I know but believe me I tried to resist. So I gave in and dug deep into the buried recesses of junk and found it. it was almost like I was possessed because once I made the decision to look for it I got some superhuman strength to lift things and excavate it. I say excavate because I had indeed buried it, away from prying eyes and inquisitive hands. Then there it was… I cannot begin to explain the surge my heart did when I felt its cold cover against my hands. With hands trembling with excitement I opened the yellowed pages and breathed in deeply the musty smell of old pages and ink long dried. For a moment I was transfixed, taken back to a time when I was young and carefree. I sat down and started reading, then I couldn’t stop. I read about the feelings that I had 7 or more years ago. It felt foreign at first as if I was reading about someone else, but the more I read the more the memories came flooding back. And I was there back in the moment and I knew exactly what had been happened. For a moment I felt a stab of guilt at reliving old feelings, as if I am betraying my current trusts. But there has to be a reason why I have held on to an old scrapbook/diary for the last eleven years, when I feel like I am no longer sure of the direction that I am navigating this ship of my life, I always refer back to it for a campus. It helps me keep grounded. It reminds me of whom I set out to be, a fact which sometimes the cares of this world make me forget. Maybe I am just trying to hold on to my past, refusing to grow up. But there are time when what we think is being grown up is actually losing sight of who we are in the first place. So I read and read and I recognized familiar emotions. I got in touch with that girl that I was. In fact it’s the best thing that I have done all weekend, and I am grateful that I have my yellowed, dusty book to take me down memory lane, to things that my natural memory has left fade in the background. I realized, I started blogging long before I knew how to use the internet!

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

betrayal

My heart pounds, like the rhythmic sound of the pestle as it hits the mortar
Blood rushes through my ears, like a burst sewer pipe in the streets of Harare
I lose my balance a bit, my equilibrium is definitely not what is should be
I wait for the anger to kick in, nothing
I wait for the tears to start stinging at my eyelids, nothing
My tear ducts appear to have gone on hiatus on me
All I feel is the dry, numbing, excruciating pain…
I imagine looking into my chest and seeing my heart shatter…
The fragments noiselessly falling to collect at the bottom of my stomach
I need to go; I need to get out,
Out of this body and away from the piercing pain that threatens to suffocate me.
I have to remember how to breathe; 30 seconds have gone past without a grain of air being expelled from my lungs
I need to run, to shake it off.
But my eyes go blank, darkness engulfs me
No I do not swoon, but the eye of my mind shuts down on it own volition
The agony is too much for it to continue watching
I feel my legs giving way, and I stumble to find a place to sit
I have tasted betrayal’s vile, foul-smelling palate in my mouth,
Wake me up when it’s over.

Monday, May 3, 2010

HIFA

This past week has been nothing short of exciting. I always get really excited when one of the biggest shows (at least in my book) comes to town and that is the Harare International Festival of the Arts (HIFA). I was just telling some people the other day that sometimes I think I am more excited about the euphoria, the adrenaline that surrounds this show. But the performances are exhilarating all the same. And this year I have managed to watch more than any other year due to the fact that I was still on that month long leave, what perfect timing.

One of my favourite performances this year, (well so far coz as I write I am yet to watch all the shows that I have earmarked) is an all woman cast performance by some of the finest divas around. It had the soul and grace of a woman. It was a celebration of the essence of a woman, the African woman and as I sat there I couldn’t help but be reminded again of how much I am proud to be an African woman. As I listened to the magical voices of Prudence Katomeni, Dudu Manhenga, Hope Masike, Ruth Mbangwa and the rest, I got transported to a beautiful place. I got to step out of my body and look at myself afresh. I saw the strength, the resilience, the power that lies in me. I saw the love of a mother, the selfish strength of a lover and I saw how all the burdens that a woman carries are balanced because we were built for the rough terrain. I saw the softness and kindness only a woman can possess, and I saw the grace and charm inherent in our DNA. But you see it is not actually me I was looking at, it was the woman I want to be, the woman I always strive to be. I always remind myself that I have to always strive at being a Proverbs 31 woman, and it fills me with ultimate delight when I realize that, all the things described in that beloved scripture, are the perfect description of an African woman, who holds the world in the palm of her hand. Did I tell you how proud I am to be an African woman?

HIFA always rekindles my love for theatre and every time I sit there enthralled by a performance I always get stirrings to find my way back to the stage. You see I used to love theatre, I used to love the stage, the emotions you evoke when you stop being yourself for a moment and become someone else, the warmth the beams set off when the spotlight is on you, and of course the pleasurable thundering beat of your heart when the audience breaks into a loud applause. I always wonder how I lost the passion, or rather how I left it drift to the recesses of my mind and heart such that I only get the stirring only once in a while. But you know what they say, its never too late to follow that dream. But I don’t know, life does have a way of sucking out of you passion for anything that is not directly linked to your livelihood, and it has a way of fooling you to prioritize things in an order you are not entirely happy with all in the name of doing the sensible thing.


P/s well of course I proceeded to finish HIFA before I posted what is above so I might as well make it into one LONG post. The rest of the shows were electric to say the least but I am more interested in what I observed during the festival. This might spark some controversy but I couldn’t help noticing the number of mixed race couples at this event. White woman + black husband or vice versa. And what tickles me is almost always, the black component is spotting dreadlocks. Is this perhaps an expression of their “Africanness” which in turns adds to their appeal in the eyes of the Caucasian partner? Don’t get me wrong I love locks, hell I even have them myself and I absolutely love them. And in a way yes they do make me feel more of an African child than my former straightened hair. However I still don’t get how dreadlocks become the ticket to bag yourself a Vanilla spouse. Yes I said it, shoot me.

And now in other not so exciting news, my month long leave has finally come to an end. People ask me what I did with it, obviously meaning what meaningful thing I did. I never know what that questions requires of me, but what I know is , I rested a lot (read slept), I spent time with my parents, and I discovered that there is hardly a sentence that my three year old son cannot construct by now. I read a lot too, and I watched a fair amount of television, I learnt new recipes and I strengthened a bond with my cousin by spending time with her. In fact I achieved quite a lot in this one month and I am not sure how I feel about going back to work yet but I have feeling I will do a much better job at it than I was doing a few months back. Even though of course the urge to look for another job is definitely still there, but that’s a post for another day!

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Ola!

So I am back, after my sojourn. Let me see if I can remember the highlights of my trip. Oh first of all of course, I have always heard people go on and on about how women are absolutely crazy about men in uniform. And I always used to scrunch my eyebrows at that because honestly speaking, those specimens are lacking in my home country. There is just nothing appealing about the police officers, army officers or whatever officers I have seen here. Until I set foot in Spain ((((whistle)))). I was attending a rather high profile meeting so it meant that we had police escort everywhere we went and oh my goodness, I have never seen so much eye-candy! I mean we all agree that Spanish men are quite a dish with their dark hair and gorgeous accent, just wait till you see how they carry their uniform! Its sad that for security reasons they declined to have a photo taken but I can most assuredly tell you that this was high-ranking amongst my highlights of Spain.

Onto other Spanish related stories, I had quite a bit of a drama when I realized two hours before my flight that I was at the wrong airport altogether and the one I wanted was 70km away! Now I shall forever be grateful for efficient first world public transport, because had I been in sweet mother country I would have kissed my flight goodbye. So anyway in between, very little (read none) Spanish with bus drivers and taxi drivers I managed to get onto that plane even if I was the last person to check in!


By the way, the Canary Islands are absolutely beautiful, save some few quid and head down there because it is absolutely amazing, and the climate is warm too.And for all the ladies who are shoe-and-bag crazy as i am, you definitely need to get your booty over to Tenerife, you will shop your heart out at amazing bargain prices. and i have to say this, Spanish people are quite warm, whether it was because i was in a tourist area and all they saw was ching ching $$$ as they looked at me, i will never know. but all i can say is, the drivers are very courteous to pedestrians ( something refreshing when you come fom Zim), everyone else pretty much greets you with a smile. but then again, as i said before they might have just been smiling at my wallet instead.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Jetsetting

so today i am off to Europe, the weather better be kind to me i am not looking forward to having my nether bits frozen. i am African i dont do snow! he he i want to believe that where i am going the sun will be shining (humming) anyway i hope i will find lots of interesting stories to blog about when i come back, i will try and visit blogville in the two weeks i will be away maybe post too if i am lucky!

Monday, March 22, 2010

The S*** has hit the fan BIG TIME!

I never thought I would blog about the same topic twice but desperate times people desperate times. Now I was all in tears sobbing about the loss of my BFF just last week. And I really was low and in a sad mood. But hey, this ahs turned into a downright nasty encounter. And the sickeningly funny thing is I have not said anything in return, all I have said is that its better we call it quits, to which i got attacked in an avalanche of words that seem to have been plucked out of a particularly best-selling copy of insults. I mean come on, I am in my late twenties, I cant be doing cat-fights ON EMAIL and getting all clawed up over something frankly I have no clue about. In fact if I still had the desire to sit her down properly and ask her what she is stark-raving mad about, I doubt she will have an answer!

That being said since I am over the shock of the attack, I can say that I should have the emails carefully extracted and preserved. They could work very well for someone who is trying to get rid of a boyfriend and ensure that he never again attempts to get in touch. SMH, some people! I am wondering now whether she was always this special brand of Cruella or the truck-loads of money she is making now has gotten to her head. As you can see, from this post, respect for her and loyalty to our years of friendship have totally flown out of the window and I am not in a hurry to scurry after them.

I am done with this, sue me.

Related to that really I wonder what it is about us women that always gets us in this sort of mess. I mean guys can pull punches, put each other in ICU, and yet a short while later they will be buying each other beer against the strict orders of the doctor. Why do we women harbour bitterness and animosity? Why do we always pull out the obvious arsenal PHD (pull her down). I really don’t know, if someone does, kindly shed some light.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Friday Randomness

I just finished reading Steve Harvey's Act like a lady, Think like a man. all i can say is its unputdownable! i am not big on self-help/motivation/relationship advice kinda books, i never get past the first chapter but this, i found truly refreshing. mostly coz i found myself nodding at most of the things he was saying, the things that we women always know at the back of our minds but decide to ignore anyway because we wanna get that man, and keep him against all odds. and it also made me understand some of the things that have made me previously mad at DH for, like i dont care how new-age your man happens to be happen, but he will not cook or do dishes, on an average day, especially after the ring is on your finger. thats just men for you. i wont give away too much in case someone wants to have a look at it, which i strongly advise, its a great read. and if anyone wants a copy i can hook you up with an e-copy, just holla at me.

talking about reading i just realised that i have regained my passion for reading. somehow amidst the court papers to done and redone, toys to pick up after, forcefeeding coaxing a three-year-old to eat, feeding an older three-year-old my husband and finally getting to put my feet up, i find time to pick up a book and flip through several pages. and i have to join a library soon coz at the rate i am going i will run out of money and shelf-space for all the books i am buying. thank goodness for e-books that i occassionally read.

that being said i am looking forward to lazing around on the weekend with my latest stash of books! have a great one!

Friday, March 12, 2010

my best friend is gone....

i lost a friend today, my best friend to be exact. in fact i have posted about her before, my forever constant, my partner in crime. she and i have been friends for all of my adult life, i met her just as i was entering into adulthood. at the time when i was discovering life, discovering myself and i discovered a kindred spirit in her. we shared a great deal first kisses, first heartbreaks you know the works. its like my earth came shattering down on me, my maid of honour is gone.

but before you start really shedding tears for me she didnt die. and even though i woke up today thinking i would write a really nasty post about, i guess the loyalty i have felt over all these years is still in tact. today my friend said hurtful things to me, she said things that i dont even have the courage to say to my enemy. she called me all sorts of things and i am still trying to figure out what i did to deserve all that. i didnt cry, maybe i am still in shock. mayve this is a wound that has been festering bit by bit and i was blissfully unaware of it, or i was bandaging over it. but today the bandage was rudely ripped off, they always say its better without warning. but i wanted to be warned, i wanted to be told that it is going to bleed and be really really painful. until i started writing this post i hadnt shed a tear, but now i can hardly see the screen.

my best friend is gone....and i have never had a best friend before....what am i going to do?

Monday, February 15, 2010

my first love letter

Something triggered an old memory today. I just remembered the first time I became aware of boys as “boys”, in other words my very first crush. I was 8 years old and he was 13. I remember he was light in complexion, very good looking (at least that’s what I thought) and he was an athlete. I remember my heart racing fast, palms sweating and getting all flustered every time he was close by. And I never had the guts to look him straight in the face. And the worst part is, he liked me too! I say the worst because what then happened was he wrote me a letter. I remember reading the first few lines and then throwing it away. My best friend couldn’t as well pass up a really juicy story took it and read it. I refused to let her read it out loud, I don’t even know whether I was angry with him or if I was too embarrassed to receive a letter from a boy. Now 20 years letter I wonder if I shouldn’t have read and memorized my very first love letter.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Social misfit

I am a generally easy going person and I do have friends that I hang out with and I don’t really consider myself “stuck-up”. However I seem to have gotten a reputation for shunning social events hosted by my work colleagues. Here is my take on it, if you have your child’s party and I can make it, I do make every point to make it. But if I am having challenges like I don’t have a car that weekend and getting to your place requires an intricate knowledge of public transport and road maps in your area, then I simply wont go out of my way to try and make it. Unfortunately for me, the latter occasions have happened one too many times. So the result? I am no longer invited to such events, and the last time that I got invited and I actually pitched, I was out rightly told that there had been major betting with some swearing that I wouldn’t pitch up.

Now naturally I wouldn’t let it bother me and most of the time I do succeed in actually ignoring it, but something must have snapped if I am making a post out of it. I don’t know really I am half-bothered and half of me couldn’t care less. I guess the half that’s bothered is the one which keeps telling me that I have worked with some of these people for almost 5 years and I spend 8 hours a day 5 days a week with them, so really should make more effort. But the half that couldn’t care less is busy telling me that I don’t even like some of these people, I work ok with them professionally but I am not sure I like some of their personalities outside work issues.

Anyway since I have made the argument that exonerates me last, I shall sign off feeling good about myself, sue me!

Friday, January 22, 2010

nostalgia


Today I woke up young again. I woke up 16 and I am not sure how it happened, and though my body was evidently of a mature 27-year-old mother, my heart was 16. I woke up in high school today and I heard the familiar sounds and smelt the familiar smells. I felt the same emotions that I felt 11 years ago and I realized the same feelings are still there at in the centre of my 27-year-old heart. I heard Lauryn Hill’s X-factor and Blackstreet’s Don’t leave. They rang so clearly as if they were playing in the room I was in. I heard whispers in the wind and I could clearly understand the whispered words unspoken. Its probably just nostalgia that elusive, heart-breaking emotion. Yes I am sure that what it was, though it felt stronger than that.

I know we grow and we choose different life’s paths but I think the heart remains the same. It gets diverted, it gets heartbroken, disappointed but I believe it never changes the rhythm of its beating. Its still the same, it never changed. And sometimes I find comfort in remembering that fact, because it means I can hold on to the purity and the real deal.

I woke up thinking of a friend today, and I know I have dropped more friends than I have made in my entire life, but there are always some who fall unintentionally and I just cant seem to let go of those.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

2010

Before I go anywhere just wanna say I am so loving Whitney and I am so glad she is back!

Ok now that the randomness is out of the way, hope all of you had a good holiday, I no longer know how I feel about the festive season. At some point the excitement wore off as I progressed into my twenties, but I guess now I thank God for the gift of children coz now my son’s enthusiasm about Christmas is making me start to believe again.

I usually avoid the word resolution like the plague because most (read all) the time I never seem to stick to them so why set myself up for failure right? Besides I always wait until my birthday to go into the whole reflective mode and planning for the future bit. Here is my logic, no point marking the beginning of the year on 1 Jan when I wasn’t even born yet so technically my year hasn’t ended yet. It’s a good thing I was born in January though that means I am not too far behind all y’all. This year however because I spent eons of time at home doing basically nothing I had plenty of time to think and found myself thinking about what I want out of 2010. Actually no ignore that I mean what 2010 is gonna get out of me, its all about me at the end of the day is it not? I decided one thing; in 2010 I wanna live a little! (ok maybe quite a bit!) what I mean is a lot of us (read me) go through life shying away from certain things because we say “oh that’s just not me” or “oh I couldn’t possibly wear that its just not me!” yet we don’t actually have a definition of who “ME” is! I will have you know that I have lost out on some pretty fab fashion simply because I didn’t have the guts to step out of my comfy zone. But no more! And its not just a threat I have already went out and got myself a funky vibrant wardrobe such that the other day my hubby looked at me with a look that said “hey who are you and what have you done with my wife?” the good news though is he is loving it!

So I am now officially getting into my late twenties, next week to be precise. When you are closer to 25 you always console yourself by saying you are in your mid-twenties. However I am finally approaching the stage where “young” will cease to be the pre-fix for lady in reference to me (Thomas Hardy). For a long time I have been scared of turning 30. It sounded so…serious. Like you need to have achieved all your goals by 30, to be exactly where you should be in life, being stable etc. but you know what I am not scared anymore. I am looking forward to mature, sexy 30. 30 is blossoming into a woman, 30 is making decisions for you and not for anyone else, 30 is not about compromising, 30 is self-assured and no nonsense. I can’t wait to be 30!

2010 is the year of Breakthrough! Yeah baby those mountains will certainly move this year, and oceans shall open the way for me. I can already feel it and I have already started experiencing it! Watch this space for more.