Retromus-ik

Green Smoothie

2011-12-26T18:58:00.000-08:00

My friend told me about the 30-day green smoothie challenge, which consists of drinking a green smoothie once a day, and I decided to partake in it since it is said to help clear skin. A green smoothie is basically a concoction of fruits of your choice and some spinach, avocado, celery, kale or other greens. It doesn't look good, but depending on your recipe, it's actually quite tasty.

1 banana

2 mango slices

A handful of spinach

Approximately 1/3 cup of water

That's what I had for supper; after all the food I ate yesterday for Christmas, my stomach was very grateful! Next, I'll try avocado, banana, spinach and vanilla soy milk.

Q: Have you ever tried a green smoothie? If not, do you want to do the challenge with me?

I hope you are all enjoying the Holidays! Blessings.

Long Time no See

2011-12-13T06:37:00.000-08:00

I recently started selling Mary Kay so I got my friend to take pictures of me for my website. That same day, I had a show at the Balattou Club on St-Laurent. It was awesome:) I hadn't been on stage in months, and I was starting to doubt if singing was something I still wanted to pursue. But, I fell in love with performing once more and the crowd really enjoyed it: they were dancing, bobbing their heads, snapping their fingers , clapping and screaming. I went home happy.

Sometimes, I get a little disoriented because I'm involved in so many activities: I make music, I'm working on 3 novels, I translate, I sell Mary Kay, I train at the gym and on the track. All these activities require my attention throughout the week.

I do not want to be a dabbler of all, master of none.

Q: How do you stay on top of things?

Weird eater

2011-12-08T10:59:00.000-08:00

Taste of home

I went to a friend's house yesterday and she had prepared chicken fingers and special ginger tea made with milk and white sugar for me. I do not drink milk anymore and I don't eat breaded fried stuff. "Here, I prepared all this for you," she said, handing me a plate full of chicken fingers. I appreciated her effort. She did spend her time over a frying pan for me. But, I had to say no. She thought I was really weird. The tea, that I accepted, since I didn't want to refuse everything she offered me.

I don't really eat junk food anymore, and if I do, its on the weekend. Do your eating habits have you feeling self-conscious sometimes? Do the folks around you find you bizarre?

It's Big Sister Appreciation Day!

2011-11-27T22:02:00.000-08:00

Well, actually it isn't. But, I just wanted to say that I really love my sister. She's always been there for me, and today, as I was doing a presentation on Mary Kay products for her and her friend, all I could read on her face was pride. She's always thought so much of me, even when, oftentimes, I do not see what she sees. I am really blessed and lucky to have her.

Leave a comment and show some love for your sister(s)

Bye Bye

2011-11-18T06:45:00.000-08:00

My girl J accused me of holding out on her since I had not yet written the post on indefinitely shutting your ex into a box which you no longer desired to open, not because somewhere deep down you didn't want to, but because you knew it was best not to. So, here it goes.

Now, this is just my experience; it has not been backed up by any psychological tests.

Let it all out. Tell your closest, trustworthy pals about the bad and the ugly. Keep the good to yourself and reminisce about it if need be until you don't need to anymore.

Do you find yourself, after a bad break-up, withholding certain information from your friends because you're clinging to hope that they'd be a reconciliation and you know that, if it ever happened, given the events that transpired, your girls would think you're crazy for allowing such treatment back into your life? I say let your girls know, and allow them to serve as an additional conscience. Sometimes our memory can be a real comedian and takes pleasure in storing certain details at the back of our minds when they really should be at the forefront. That is why it's important to have some good friends around you to be the voice of reason.

There is, however, no guarantee that you'll actually listen to that voice of reason. In the end, we make our own decisions and we are responsible for their outcome.

I'm not saying to present unfair, unbalanced information. People can be good on an individual basis, but when paired up, all hell breaks loose. Furthermore, as imperfect beings, there is bound to be something you both could have done better.

This advice may only apply to drama-filled and messy breakups. People who are torn apart by circumstances, that's a whole other ball game. Focusing on the cons (and sharing them) really helped me. Just think and write down of all the reasons why you're better off without him/her in the long run. In this process, your friends serve as a reminder. Once you let go, a whole new world of opportunity opens up before you. This, I believe wholeheartedly.

At the end of the day, time will heal all wounds. I just think there are ways to speed up the process.

P.S. If you do chose to let a select group of friends in on your business, do develop a thick skin. Take in the advice they give, sleep on it and dissect the overly-judgmental (if applicable) from the productive. The best confidants, in my opinion, are trustworthy, straightforward and nonjudgmental.

PPS. My next post will not broach the subject of love or breakups. I am no expert;) I love you guys! Thanks for reading me even though my posts have been few and far between lately.

Reader Question: Heartbreak Hotel

2011-10-17T17:34:00.000-07:00

How do you know when you're truly over an ex?

-G.

In my opinion, you know when you are completely over someone when you are convinced and certain that even if they wanted to give your duo another try, you would respond to their request with an hearty no.

If you are battling with your emotions and not too sure if you can envision a future without them, then no, you are not completely over said person. This by no means makes you weak; getting over an ex is no easy feat. I knew I was over my ex when I walked outside one afternoon as spring was rearing its pretty head. I was delighted to feel the sun rays and to see nature coming back to life. I was happy and I realized then and there that I no longer gave a damn.

Sidenote: According to various sources, getting over a breakup is harder in the winter. My hairdresser was talking about her boyfriend-whom-she-didn't-love-anymore to one of her other clients, and she received as an advice to hold onto him at least until the summer or to find someone else in the meanwhile. The reason? It's cold and boring in the winter; it's always good to have a companion when your extremities are frozen.

Healing can take 4 months, just like it can take 2 years. I have a trick to write someone off as -never again-, I just might go into it in my next post.

Now, I'll turn G's question over to you. How do you know when you're truly over an ex?

Separate the Act from the Person

2011-09-29T19:40:00.000-07:00

I feel the need to tell you that you are amazing! I think we should say those same words when we look at ourselves in the mirror and when we're on the bus, lost in our thoughts, and even when we're in line at the grocery store. A thought just hit me. Is everyone amazing? What about people who kill or commit acts of rape? Do they have the right to an occasional confidence boost? Of course they do. But, it is indeed harder to say so when you are directly affected by their actions. We should separate the act from the person, right? As in, they're not a murderer nor a rapist, they're just people just like us who did the wrong thing at some point in their lives... because of a certain reason.

When I was around 5, one of my mother's friend's stepson would always pounce on me to kiss me. Whenever we were alone in the basement to play, he would slobber all over me, I'd push him away and then he would cry and complain that I didn't want to "take a shower with him". He definitely had a problem, and for some reason, I was ashamed to tell any of my siblings or my mother that this child was harassing me. He finally left me alone when I slapped him really hard in the face...and then he cried. From what I hear, once he hit adulthood, he ended up in jail for a reason that now escapes me. He is, I am sure, a product of whatever childhood he had.

It's hard to judge people because when you look at their backstory, oftentimes you end up feeling sorry for them. We all make choices at the end of the day, but there is a reason for everything.

Can people change?

I think people can change. You forgive, but human nature does not allow you to forget, not completely anyway. Is that not the same instinct for self-preservation that prevented us from touching that burning hot object again when we were but tots?

On that note, I invite you all to read my friend Jen's recent blog post. I trust you will find it to be an interesting read.

Do you believe that complete and utter forgiveness is possible?

Greed

2011-09-14T17:22:00.000-07:00

He'd make his way to the kitchen in the middle of the night and stuff his face with whatever was in sight: sliced cheese, yogurt, cookies and spoonfuls of sugar. He wasn't in search of a midnight snack; he wanted to get to the good stuff before any of us could. He did so until this once healthy boy grew up to be a diabetic adult.

This greed, this never-ending desire to have more, to taste more, to eat more, to earn more than everyone around him, materialized into something different recently. And, I must say that I saw it coming.

I think greed sprouts from feeling cheated and thinking that, since no one will give you what you want, you have to get it [and as much of it] yourself. Grow extra arms if you have to, grow extra nostrils to take in more air if you will.

We're all a little selfish. But tell me, is there a cure for Greed?

The Taste of Freedom

2011-08-25T16:04:00.000-07:00

If freedom had a taste what would it be? Would it be that sweet yet tart mango, juices of which drip unabashedly, staining the entirety of your outfit as you plump down on your couch, your tongue darting every which way like metal to magnet to capture every bit of its sweetness? And if it had smell? Gasoline perhaps? As you drive and drive and drive away from the city and settle in a pile of grass and just think.

My boss told me, the other day, that the definition of a salary goes as follows: that which is enough to sustain you for a week, but that will run out just in time for you to be back to work first thing Monday morning. Dismal? Not quite the image of freedom?

Boss-employee relationships are oftentimes strained or phony. However, bosses aren't always the bad guys working you to death and offering not enough compensation. And employees, employees aren't sneaky individuals who stuff office supplies into pockets, purses and pants unbeknownst to the boss/manager.

To all employees, I say:

Maintain your freedom even though you have a boss.

A boss is not a ball and chain.

A boss is there to guide you, not control you.

Your boss needs you.

You are the boss of your work.

Don't let he or she walk all over you. No insults. No abasement. No.

My boss’ image of freedom is a money tree that replenishes itself every time you yank out a leaf. At the age of 50+, grey hair, wrinkles and all, and three condos and innumerable companies later, my boss told me that his goal in life is to make a lot of money.

Freedom for me is definitely being self-employed, and I’m working on it. But, I am looking for my purpose in life and how it may possibly mesh up with a profession. Translation and journalism is great (which is what I'm doing now), but it's empty work because I'm not really helping anyone except for my boss.

Have you found your purpose? And, does it make you free?

Retail Assistance

2011-08-15T17:43:00.000-07:00

Credit: Nastygal.com

At first, I'm excited, and then that excitement quickly turns into discouragement, which more often than not results in me leaving the store empty handed.

I love clothes, but shopping, that's an entirely different story. I just don't have the patience to keep trying on piece after piece. Therefore, I'm enlisting the help of two friends to help resurrect my dead wardrobe. I bought a few items a few days ago, and I love them. It's actually a form of therapy when you find the right pieces. H&M is my best friend right about now. I totally forgot how affordable and nice their clothes are. Once my bank account gets a bit more stable, I will start (occasionally) shopping at Nastygal.com.

Q: What are the things you dislike the most about shopping (by your lonesome or with friends)? Any shopping horror stories? Do share.

Addiction.

2011-07-29T17:26:00.000-07:00

As most of you know, Amy Winehouse died last week. Soon after, your Facebook feeds were undoubtedly flooded by her music videos and comments about how she should have gone to rehab, just like mine was. Some people complained about how irrelevant her death was in the grand scope of things. I know that when a celebrity dies, the press coverage can get annoying (to some) because their death is treated as if they were more important than regular folks. I mean, they are treated like semi-gods while alive; in death, it shall be no different. Such is the world. Even though, the cause of her death has not yet been confirmed*or maybe, it has. I haven't checked*, I see her premature death as a result of a serious disease: addiction. And, that's pretty dismal.

My friend battled with alcoholism for a long time until her liver became irreparably damaged. Quite often, I think about what could drive a person to drink and drink and drink even though doctors are warning them that they are on their last legs. Most people don't understand. When she died, I didn't go into detail about the cause of death for fear that people would judge her, that they would think of her death as unimportant because they would think she brought it on herself.

Or maybe, I was being paranoid?

Q: How do you or how do you think people usually react to drug-related deaths?

I'm Back.

2011-07-24T12:32:00.000-07:00

So. This is the longest break I've ever taken from blogging in the 2 1/2 years that I've been at it.

Updates:

I moved and I'm in the process of decorating and making this place my home.
I finally got a job in my field. I'm a translator and I work for two companies (one full-time, the other part-time)

Do tell, what's new with you? I just recently got internet at home. So, I really missed out on all of your lives!:)

Meet: Popple

2011-06-22T19:49:00.000-07:00

Popple

It's crazy how one single item can be loaded with so many memories. Elkie gave Popple to my siblings and I around 15 years ago. Now, she's missing an ear because my dog Lucky possibly assumed it was a rare piece of steak. Elkie passed away last year and my dog did 10-11 years ago. As my family and I prepare to go our separate ways, my house is looking more and more like a disorganized warehouse. My brother retrieved Popple amidst the chaos and I slept with her that night, clutching her tightly against my chest even though she was most likely covered in dry, invisible dog drool. Tis the official end of my childhood.

Q: Do you have a toy/accessory etc. that takes you back to simpler times?

A Pep Talk To Myself and Maybe You Too

2011-06-11T20:25:00.000-07:00

I choked on several occasions when I was a young tot. One time, I shoved a tasty piece of pork fat, otherwise know as bacon, down my throat, and it got tangled betwixt my tonsils...well more so my trachea, but I'm sure the little devil grazed them on its way down. My eyes got teary and I couldn't speak. I panicked. Quickly, my sister performed the Heimlich maneuver and saved my life. Since then, I maintain a healthy distance away from bacon, chicken skin, peanut butter and all the other items that went down the wrong pipe at one point in my life.

What is the stifling element in your life? Is there something that is hindering your personal growth, your freedom to breathe untethered? Has it wrapped itself around your existence like the thick, tangled roots of a tree? Although it may seem hard, rip it off like a band-aid, quick and effectively. It may hurt at first, but you will soon notice that color has returned to your face and you can express yourself with confidence. Get to the bottom of your unhappiness, remove that stubborn piece of pork fat and breathe. Granted, not all situations can be dealt with in a quick manner. But, I will say that the simple fact that you are working toward your happiness will fill your life with even more.

A good friend of mine told me last week that Joy is a statement. We should all make it ours.

Seduction

2011-05-29T18:37:00.000-07:00

I became privy to the art of Seduction in a dimly lit cafeteria with a crowd of students dancing to reggae. The spirit of Seduction fluttered across the room, making sporadic hoops in the air. For one friend, Seduction was a lavishly adorned butterfly who enticed her to (try to) kiss a girl that night, at all cost. Given her state of inebriation, the butterfly became frightened and tickled someone else's ear instead. Seduction greeted my timid friend, much to her surprise. She grabbed her hips and swayed them side to side and around and around. I was an observer; as some men smiled from ear to ear as they watched the women who tantalized their senses from a far, I realized that all that She requires of us is authenticity. She wants us to walk with Her, hand in hand, into job interviews. She wants a marriage in the sense that our being would be inextricable from hers.

Essentially, She is confidence and a continuum of attraction. Seduction isn't necessarily sexual. Flexing your sculpted biceps or showing a little leg can seduce, but unveiling your spirituality to an other or discussing your favorite book can surely do the same.

Q: What has been your relationship with seduction?

*I merely feminized Seduction since I wrote about women in this post.

Technology

2011-05-27T07:05:00.000-07:00

I've always prided myself in not getting swept up into the latest technologies. My cell phone is a prime example; it's always been clunky, paint peeling off and basic. In other words, it was the type of phone that when you lose, you get back. As of late last year, I've upgraded to an Iphone (courtesy of my family), and now I have been utterly wooed by Instagr.am. I want to buy a professional camera and explore photography since I have always had an eye for composition. In the meanwhile, once I get my new place, I will buy some canvases, paint and create some abstract art.

Q: What is your attitude toward technology (as in gadgets)? Has it changed throughout the years?

Wood

2011-05-24T19:40:00.000-07:00

I love Summer. I feel as if I come alive during this season, and so does everyone around me. Flowers are once more visited by bees, people go out more all the while running away from those pesky creatures...it's beautiful. As I dragged myself to the back porch-I injured my Achilles tendon-, I was welcomed by sun rays and soon immersed into a pensive state. I don't want to live here all my life. I love Montreal; I grew up here. But I am comatose until Summer, which truly only lasts 2-3 months in our parts. I want to travel the world and settle in a place of perpetual non-humid (for the sake of my curls) heat. But. Perhaps if I did, after a while, I wouldn't appreciate just how great it feels to defrost.

The Graduation Package

2011-05-21T19:37:00.000-07:00

Credit: FunkyTunky.com

Looking at the recent University graduates in my life-myself included-, it is quite obvious that there needs to be a graduation package to render the transition between sleepless nights, term papers and finals and the "real world" all the more seamless. There seems to be a trend; we all question our path of study since the quest toward a job in our field is not one without peril and a lingering feeling of hopelessness.

Here is what I would include in the package:

5,000$
Inspirational quotes
Placebos
Telephone numbers of important people in the graduate's respective field

Of course, I could add plane tickets and fairy dust, but I was trying to remain realistic.

What would you have in yours?

Cheapy Thursdays: Nails Done

2011-05-05T07:27:00.000-07:00

After church last Saturday, I went to a fair lady's house for lunch, and one of her daughters randomly decided to paint my nails after we had unabashedly stuffed our faces with baked chicken, homemade bread, seasoned rice and fish. While she decorated my nails, I felt an odd, cold feeling on my left leg. I disregarded it. After three minutes or so, my boyfriend, discomposed, let out an "OH!" We all followed his gaze and were greeted by white nail polish dripping down the opaque black of my pantyhose. The first thought that crossed my mind was that my sister wouldn't be too pleased. Earlier, when I said my pantyhose, I really meant that of my sister. My manicurist, who had inadvertently held the bottle sideways over my leg, quickly attempted to eradicate the stain using nail polish remover, led me to a secluded area-her bedroom- and removed the soiled material, but not before saying: "viewer discretion is advised." She then took out a brand new pair and slid them on me since my nails were still wet.

Why not simulate a beauty parlor with the gals by doing each other's nails? It's cheap and provides the perfect setting for gabber and/or heart to hearts. Just don't wear pantyhose...you never know.

Of Freaks, Whores and Dogs

2011-04-29T07:33:00.000-07:00

Freak:

any abnormal phenomenon or product or unusual object;anomaly; aberration.

In college, due to my calm demeanor, many people imagined me to be a closeted freak. My girlfriends had collectively invented a scenario in which I lived a secret life in Atlanta since I would frequently go there to visit my father. Stepping out of the plane, I'd shake my hair loose and let out a boisterous "It's on"; they would call me "ATL hoe" in jest so you can pretty much decipher what exactly was to be "on". Many others seriously figured that there had to be something more beneath the "good girl" image I unwillingly projected. That something more, that freakyness, in their humble opinions, was a pulsing sex life which I kept on the hush.

The "lady in the streets and a freak in the sheets" split persona is a common motif in hiphop culture and in Western society at large. In this context, a freak is a woman who loves sex and who isn't afraid of trying new things in the bedroom. We all know this, a women can't have too many sexual partners or be overt in her fondness of porn or self-love or she is labelled a whore and/or strange. What is the difference between a whore and a freak? I must say that a freak has a better connotation. Men supposedly love freaks. I mean who wouldn't want a gal who adored habitual trips to sex shops and perhaps even whips and chains. More importantly, while she is an aficionada of all things sex-related, her good reputation remains intact. As for a "whore", the more people know her secret, the more the title is fitting. Freak seems to be the more flattering alternative. However, by calling her a freak, you are implying that she deviates from the norm. She isn't a regular woman who lets cramps or headaches get in the way of a good romp with her beau. In a way, you are saying that a woman's sexuality should only lie in giving a man pleasure. Granted men can be called freaks as well, but this term is mostly associated with women.

It goes without saying that women love sex too; there isn't anything freaky about it. Trying new positions, adding props, getting to know yourself sexually and wanting to rumple some sheets every night does not deviate from the norm as there is none. Sex varies from one person to the next, and even within one person, may lie several sexual identities.

How about men? Well, men who love to have sex with women and who do so on the regular are also called dogs. They are animals. In other words, their sexual appetite is completly normal; it's biologal while women in the same position are freaks.

I say, regardless of sexual orientation or sex, we are all freaks in the sense that we do not fit a mold.

Q: How do you see the word "freak"?

Childhood Revisited

2011-04-27T08:11:00.000-07:00

Totally unrelated to the topic- I want this shirt

As I sat down preparing to birth an idea, the heater gently toasting my back, with my lap top, well...on my lap, I saw my sister plug in the kettle. After the water had boiled, she brought it into the living room. All I heard next was her boyfriend crying in agony. It's not what you think. He was experiencing some scalp irritation and my sister was attempting to help. I don't have all the details as I didn't venture away from my spot to add a visual image of pain to the auditory one I was already witnessing loud and clear. I did however google what exactly could be his problem and less painful ways to help him while offering my advice from a distance.

My sister has always been keen on wearing the doctor hat. When I was around 5 years old, one of my earrings disappeared. My family and I had figured that it had simply fallen out, and we scanned the floors for it to no avail. One day, the search proved to be fruitful as my sister felt my ear and noticed something hard therein. Indeed, my earring had lodged itself in one of my earlobes. My sister (12) and older brother (8) then decided to prep me for surgery as they were to take out the earring themselves. They heated up a pin on the stove while I sat on the bed in quiet fear. The surgery, although painful, was a success; they managed to rid my ear of the unwelcome guest. Evidently, if my mother had known, she wouldn't have let my well-meaning siblings dissect my ear with a pin. They did disinfect it with alcohol and it never got infected. Med school, Schmed school. I kid.

Q: What are some of the craziest things you and/or your siblings have done unbeknown to your parents?

No Shame.

2011-04-22T10:19:00.000-07:00

Before I begin, I would just like to clarify that my last post was not about my boyfriend, Joel. Yes, he has his flaws but he could care less about what people think. When we first met, he would sing loudly on the streets and get approving stares from onlookers as I shook my head in disbelief.

Credit: Daniel Gordis

I have always been a shy person, only revealing my inner madness to family and a select few. I remember having a crush on this guy in college, and as we were going home together one night, I continually avoided his gaze. His eyes peered into me like a laser which melted every ounce of coherency I had within me. I went home slapping my forehead over the way I had portrayed myself -the things I had said and should have said instead. How lame was that? Now, now I am comfortable with myself and no longer feel shy around a (gasp!) cute boy. With time, I realized that it was a waste of who I was not to show it fully to the people around me, whether they be close or acquaintances. It's great not over-thinking my jokes and spewing out whatever crosses my mind.

Of all the things you could be ashamed of, the essence of who you are should never be in the number. We all have elements of our pasts of which we are not too proud. Although shy, as a child, I had a sharp tongue when pushed. When I think about it, I am still saddened by one mean thing in particular I said to my little brother. As my older brother would say at the time, "I could make a grown man cry." However, my past irritable nature does not define who I am now. We need to shed some skin and look at our true selves in the mirror. For a moment, we need to crop out our academic/career failures, crappy tastes in significant others, past mistakes and everything else that could make us walk out in the rain and take the bus instead of passing in front of people we know who happen to be on the path toward the metro as I did on Thursday. We should go about our lives with no shame. We need not dwell on mistakes, but rather use them as propellers.

Learning from the past.

2011-04-20T13:48:00.000-07:00

He* told me that he was embarrassed to be seen with me. I've only told this story to a handful of people, and every time, I conveniently left this part out. I was wearing a black over-sized sweater, shorts, a huge white purse and flats. I also had an allergic reaction on my lips that rendered them black. To him, I looked gothic and he felt the need to tell me that women were giving me bad looks and that he felt uncomfortable being associated with me. What did I do? I bade him goodnight and asked myself why I had chosen a weirdo for a boyfriend. I was angry. Of course, he apologized and promised to try to be less shallow. I forgave him, but evidently it was never forgotten.

Lessons:

There will always be someone who will try to bring you down due to a jealousy otherwise kept on the hush, or they may see a weakness in you and pounce on it.
We are incredibly flawed, but we do try. Something that to you is as easy as boiling an egg could feel more so like birthing an 11 pound baby to another.

What can you do? Forgive, yes. But there are some issues that cannot be cured overnight. It is up to you to determine whether or not you want to stick around and wait for this change to occur.

*Edit: "He" refers to my ex and not my current boyfriend :p

Rape.

2011-04-17T12:22:00.000-07:00

In an environment where the grim reaper and his shiny ax loom over your existence, it is difficult to know who to trust. They said they would protect her from the killings. But they sucked the breath out of her in their own special way. Their stiff swords entered her innermost parts piercing through carefully erected walls of pride and honor and dripped of red as if they had emerged from a pond of ripe berries. Two days with one, a week with the other. Her name is Francine and she is a survivor.

San Francisco Women Against Rape: Walk Against Rape from Monica Jensen on Vimeo.

I am always afraid when I come home late night, unaccompanied by a friend/family member/boyfriend. Scenarios of rape and kidnappings always cross my mind. In highschool, once I exited the bus at night, I would run home just to have a leg up on anyone who would set their sights on attacking me. "At least, I would already be running," I thought. After the shooting that occurred at my college in 2006, my father bought me this special device that when pulled rang REALLY loudly to scare off potential offenders. Not that it would protect me from gun shots in a closed environment such as a school, but it would serve its purpose on the streets. That day, my family and I were reminded that life can get pretty ugly without any warning signs. I think everyone, as men get attacked as well, should carry pepper spray on them.

According to the Canadian Women's Foundation, "every minute of every day, a Canadian woman or child is being sexually assaulted." I don't however think it is safe to live in fear. The end of rape, I think, would represent a shift in mentality. To this day, some men and women alike think that there are certain circumstances in which it would be acceptable to force a woman to have sex.

As many offenses go unreported, I shall leave you all with the "Welcome to Barbados" website, in which people share their experiences with rape.

Q: What are the precautions you take to stay safe?

Are you afraid of the dark?

2011-04-15T08:19:00.000-07:00

I was. My childhood was overwhelmed by Nigeria-based stories of witchcraft. Through my mother, I was acquainted with tales on children getting transformed into goats, wandering spirits searching for their family members on the streets and untrustworthy people from your own blood line trying to sell your soul to the devil. These stories were honey to my ears upon hearing them; my three siblings and I gathered around the kitchen table and ate up every word our story-teller said like it were candy or my personal favorite, chin-chin. Now, when it was time to hit the sheets, things quickly turned sour. The journey from the light switch to my bed felt like an eternity; I walked calmly hoping that I wouldn't feel a hand on my leg or a hair-raising, yet subtle breath on my neck. I always slept with the sheets gripped tightly over my head until I feel asleep.

One fateful night, my older siblings were convinced that they had seen a flying saucer. Come to think of it, I vaguely remember seeing it too, or rather, their reaction to the supposed unidentified flying object. I was so afraid of those big-headed beings that I slept with the lights on so that I would see them coming if they even dared attempt to abduct me. My mother convinced me that aliens saw better in the light, therefore it would be far wiser to keep those switches shut. I heeded her advice without a second thought.

Laying in bed, I prayed for protection-when I tell you I was scared as hell, I was-, and this feeling of reassurance suddenly swept over me. My fear was instantly cured, and I have continued watching scary movies/shows ever since.

This episode freaked me out as a child. Now, not so much.

Q: Which scary TV shows or movies did you watch as a kid that have a similar affect on you now?

Awkward

2011-04-08T00:02:00.000-07:00

This week , I've been pushing out articles like a mother would a baby who had set up a fort in her womb for 10 months. This incessant researching, typing, pressing on the delete key and researching and writing some more was induced by the need for money that hits me over the head like a ton of bricks every time I leave the house. Speaking of bricks, glass bottles of olive oil fell on a woman at the grocery store today. She had been trying to grab one from the pyramidal stack of oily goodness in order to, judging from her proximity to the meat section, cook up a mean pot of spaghetti.

No bottles had shattered, so you can imagine how hard they must have felt against her limbs. In other words, I'm quite sure it hurt like a female dog. No to mention, her "ouch!" and one-legged hops betrayed her. I prevented more bottles from falling on her by taking the unsteady ones down. I asked her if she was okay and she winced. All I could do was apologize for her pain, pick up the bottles that were on the ground and stand there in [my] silence as she filled the air with more "ohs". I could have checked out her feet, but I had no idea what to look for. It was an awkward situation to say the least. While I waited, I pondered on whether there had been a way for me to prevent this from happening i.e. jump in the way Superman style or push her to the side (not before screaming a thunderous "NO!") as heroes who are devoid of other-worldly strength do. In all honesty, I didn't see it coming. When she finally stopped jumping, she looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and went my way.

Cheapy Thursdays: Be kind

2011-03-31T18:57:00.000-07:00

Galvao, a band that performed at Knowledge is Sexy

Credit: Laurian Ene

It always pays to be kind. Now, one shouldn't be kind expecting any other prize than the gleeful feeling you get when you make an other happy. Essentially, I believe everything happens for a reason, and if you're in a position to help someone then it would be beneficial for both parties to lend a hand.You never know who you may be assisting. Perhaps the old man struggling across the street is truly a grey-haired billionaire equipped with a grubby stick as a makeshift cane who had vowed to give a lump sum to a stranger demonstrating good demeanor.You never know;)

And so, thanks to Joel's good deed I shall be getting a massage, which definitely wouldn't have been in my budget otherwise. Details below.

Magda Ayuk

Ask and ye shall receive: In the metro with neck pain, I saw a spa ad and said to myself: "I really need a massage." Meanwhile, my bf was in LaSalle helping a woman who had a flat tire. This woman turned out to be a masseuse, and so to thank him she offered him a free massage at her spa, which he in turn gave to me. So tomorrow morning, I shall be getting what I asked for. Good looking out God;)

Dear skin

2011-03-29T19:25:00.000-07:00

An HIV/AIDS ad that caught my eye in the metro

I love you. I truly do. I figured I should start off with something positive, but really I can't stand you sometimes. I eat well, am mindful of the amount of water I drink, and this is the thanks I get? Every morning and night, I give you a nice massage with freshly-washed hands and soothe you with steam. But no. You've settled on being an ingrate and allowing little bumps to congregate on my face. Now, now I have to go back on accutane. Well, I don't have to. But sadly, a lot of my self-esteem is tied into how flawless you look. I hate looking in the mirror while all I can concentrate on is clogged pores. I want to focus on my almond-shaped eyes, long eyelashes and full lips, thank you very much. Well you've made your decision, and I've made mine with the full support of my dermatologist. This time it'll last 6 weeks, and you better straighten yourself out.

Although I firmly stand by the fact that you deserve a spanking, I have bigger fish to fry and refuse to let you ruin my days with your impossible behavior.

Magda

Dissing over the net: when web debates turn sour

2011-03-28T08:14:00.000-07:00

He said my comment was stupid and ignorant. Sitting in front of my computer screen, my eyes bulged out of their sockets and all I could do was chuckle. It was my first time. In my two years of actively reading blogs and maintaining my own site, I had never been insulted by a stranger. All I had written was that naturals who decide to flat iron their hair on occasion do not unwaveringly fit into the "whitewashed" category as he was implying. However, my words obviously rubbed him the wrong way as he believed he had much more insight into the situation than a woman who had ditched the perm herself and who indeed straightens her hair the odd 3 times a year.

Ever since my father bought our first computer in my teenage years, I have been intrigued by the level of disrespect on the web. If this conversation had been carried out in person, I'm pretty sure that he wouldn't have insulted me or my opinions in such a way. We can argue points diplomatically without resorting to name-calling. What you have to say should be strong enough on it's own without having to vomit over my opinion, so to speak. Tell me you don't understand my point-of-view, ask me to rephrase it, remark that there are discrepancies, but do not call it stupid; it only bespeaks of a flaw in your debating skills. In this particular situation, the other commenter didn't attack me personally, but more so what I said. It was nonetheless rude, however I have seen much worse.

I've noticed this bashing behaviour on many of my favourite sites. I'm always turned off when I see someone comment on a video saying that they hate so and so artist. Why are you watching their video then? It's certainly not by force; just skip to the next one. And then, the artist's supporters chime in in an equally rude manner to defend the attacked craft. On some of my favorite online magazines, the comments section of the more controversial posts is oftentimes riddled with negativity. I've seen the words "stupid", "naive" and even allusions to promiscuity. Do we feel empowered as we're hiding behind a laptop, Mac or smartphone? Do we chuckle when we make claims as to another's IQ and let out a feverish "burn" a la Micheal Kelso? I don't get it.

A few weeks ago, as I sat in the styling chair getting my hair yanked and stretched every which way, I mean straightened, my two hairdressers, one Morrocan, the other Rwandese, got into a bit of a disagreement. What spurred this debate, you may ask? I had simply expressed my desire to try braid extensions. The Morrocan woman, for these purposes, we'll call her Anna, said that with beautiful hair like mine I shouldn't even think of covering them up. The one from Rwanda, Rachel, retorted that weaves and braids aren't solely reserved for people who hate their tresses due to an inability to retain length, and that donning false hair was majoritarily about switching your look. Anna replied: "Come on, how many Black women do you see with [long] hair like hers? It's special. Black women wear extensions to hide their hair." Rachel then made known her disappointment that, as a hairstylist, Anna would think so black-and-white. She also clarified that, although she occasionally wore extensions, she loved her hair and its versatility. The whole back-and-forth lasted approximately 3 minutes, but it felt like I was trapped in an eternal Black hair vortex in which both women were now authorities on Black self-image. Having two people disagree over such a sensitive issue, over your head no less, isn't particularly comfortable especially when you're in physical pain (I'm tender-headed). Anna's opinion surprised me [since many view Black hair in a similar fashion, maybe I was more so surprised that she straight out said it]. I will say though that I was pleasantly surprised that both ladies just agreed to disagree and bounced unto the next subject as if nothing had happened. Needless to say, if this verbal sparring had occurred over the internet, it would have taken a much uglier dimension.

I think our internet relations are just as telling as those in our real lives. If you would not hurl insults at the person with whom you disagree in a face-to-face setting, the following question is well worthy of exploration: "Are you respectful only because people are watching and you fear the repercussions?" This virtual name game phenomena testifies to the current state of our society. We are far removed from the Middle Ages of curtsies and chivalry although we still care about how we are perceived by others. We are stressed with morgages, rent, crappy jobs or pesky children, all that in an individualistic society. Perchance, the internet allots us the freedom that we are yearning for in the real world. As in, there are too many codes of conduct. On the internet, we can let our hair down and just be. You could be having a terrible day, and it may feel like a release to treat an other brashly without having to deal with their sad/angry facial expressions, possible physical retaliations (which is another problem in our society) etc. Perhaps, it's all in good fun. Perhaps.

I did not write this piece in the hopes of a kumbaya moment in which we all throw down our visceral pens, but rather, I hope we can take a second to ponder as to why we choose to respond in rude manners to one another over the net.

Q: If you are an aficionado of throwing verbal punches on blogs, youtube and other websites, why do you do so? On the flip side, am I picking at straws here? Does this trend enable us to develop a thicker skin in preparation for face-to-face offenses? Does it strengthen the age-old adage: "Use your words, not your hands?"

I dare you

2011-03-24T08:05:00.000-07:00

Addendum: Be kind and always strive to be the best "you"*

I dare you to be yourself. Sing and dance on the streets while listening to your favorite tunes. Say whatever crosses your mind [while remaining respectful] without fearing judgement.

This week, I did all three.

There is a lot we could learn from those we call eccentrics [who have all their faculties intact]. They just don't give a damn. Yes, that girl who busts sporadic moves in the gym, wears odd-patterned tights and walks around the changing rooms nude has a thing or two to teach us. She isn't bothering anyone, but she intrigues because she loves who she is. She isn't flashy. She just is.

If we truly understand and live by the fact that we're all equals, much of our lives would run more smoothly. We wouldn't let our nerves get the best of us during an interview. If you know your true worth and your ability to improve your weaker areas, you should find no problem in showcasing your skills in front of another being irregardless of social status.

*I've been watching far too many crime shows lately, and I just had to add in the notion of being kind to one another.

Reflections

2011-03-21T22:27:00.000-07:00

Many seek to enrich their lives first and foremost even though their actions aren't always morally correct and may infringe upon your rights. I'm learning this more and more everyday. I'm left puzzled and entrenched in thoughts on what I would have done if the tables had been reversed. I deserve better. And, it's not up to anyone to give it to me. It's all within my reach. Being underestimated is actually a blessing; it forces you to shine like the star God created you to be. You do so not to prove them wrong, but rather to prove yourself wrong because for a split second you doubted yourself. That moment of "what if?", however minute, needs to be rectified. As for me, it already has.

On being lovely and other interesting facts

2011-03-20T09:19:00.000-07:00

Last week, both KitKat's Tales and CurlyChellez bestowed upon me the "One Lovely Blog" accolade. I'm required to pass this on to 15 bloggers, but I really hate choosing. I'm quite sure that if I'm ever to get engaged, choosing my bridesmaids would be a laborious affair. So, anyone reading this, you sure are lovely.

7 facts:

I've had a headache all day. Tell-tale signs of another cold are kicking my ass. I always get sick before something important! Knowledge is Sexy is a week away, and I have flyers to pass around, posters to stick about the city, band practices and a performance. It seems that my immune system is on a long vacation, and I'm pretty sure it has to do with my ongoing stomach problems. On the brightside, I'm getting another test done next week!
My younger brother has disowned me, but that's a story for another day. There's this little guy at church that looks like he did when he was a toddler. Oh teenagers! I'm not looking forward to having kids due to this cantankerous stage.
I have an interview on Tuesday to be an event coordinator
I started this post last night-my head is feeling much better
As most Black women do, I sleep with a scarf to protect my do. My mom painted this one.

I'm working on some articles to make extra money
I'm on a road to being a vegetarian. I didn't eat meat this week, and I intend on continuing. Besides, I never used to eat meat all that often. Right now, I'm curious to explore everything I can cook and eat that tastes amazing without meat. I told myself that I'd only stray from vegetarianism on Saturdays to enjoy the feast of goat and chicken (among other things) after church.

On a different note, I would love to hear your opinions on the post "Mom Confession: I think I love my son just a little bit more". A lot of dissension arose, and I find that it's an interesting topic that is usually kept on the hush. I love to see honest writers; that's what this art form is about.

Cheapy Thursdays: Freebies

2011-03-17T21:18:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in my "Lucky girl" post, I used to win any and every draw/bingo game/contest when I was in elementary school. It was almost unreal. And, if I really think about it, my "luck" hasn't totally run its course. In my two years of blogging, I've won 6 prizes though blog giveaways: 2 books, a jar of henna, a silk pillowcase and some Eryn Brinie jewelry.

I love entering contests. I actually Google the word "win" accompanied by any item that comes to mind to see if there are any legitimate contests open, and then I fill in the required information in order to recapture the days of old.

For my Canadian readers who fancy fiber, go over to the Kellogg's Fibre Plus website and win a free box of this morning treat. The only catch is that it will reach your doorstep in 4 to 6 weeks.

Receiving a package in the mail is always exciting. Now when it's free, the excitement level quadruples. What's there to lose? I say, enter a fellow blogger's giveaway and believe in magic once more. Acquaint yourself with your dashboard tonight and see just what you may find.

I will burn in Hell?

2011-03-15T20:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after a good romp at the gym, my friend asked me to meet with her as there was some kind of event involving free food on the 7th floor of the university. So, along with Jeanne and Heidy, I went upstairs to see what it was all about. The event turned out to be an Islam awareness day or something along those lines. I saw bananas and other types of fruit, so needless to say, I was pretty happy as it saved me a trip to the grocery store nearby. I saw my friend and joined her at this particular booth. She and the young man behind it were talking about Islam, truth and something else I don't quite remember. Once I greeted my friend, he asked me if I was Christian. I said yes and all hell broke loose. My friend gladly left the premises (shakes fists into the air).

He proceeded to tell me that my belief in a God in three persons was illogical and that even a child wouldn't believe it. I told him why, to me, this concept (of Jesus being God) makes sense while highlighting the book of Isaiah and other verses in the New Testament. I didn't want him nor did I expect him to believe it himself. Rather, I wanted him to respect my opinion and bluntly put, shut the hell up because the debate was pointless and he was quite disrespectful (tone of voice, choice of words etc.). He was not curious; he just wanted to discredit not only the core of my beliefs, but my ability to use reason. I even told him that it was awesome if he didn't subscribe to the same thought as I did, that we could agree to disagree. But, he maintained that there was one truth [and that it was his duty to show it to me, I guess]. This idea of spreading the Word is also present in Christianity, but I believe that actions speak louder than words. The fact that I didn't punch him out when he said I'd burn in hell speaks volumes. I kid.

Essentially, the Concordia student who will remain nameless said that I will burn in hell because of what he called to be my polytheistic beliefs. He said that when I meet my Maker at the pearly gates, I'll ask for Jesus to intercede for me and my so called savior will remain silent. Result? Into the fiery pits I'd go. He said that it was clearly stated in the Koran, and thus he was fully equipped with a bag full of stones to condemn me*. I just told him that I didn't believe in his scripture for so and so reasons, and that that particular verse was therefore meaningless to me. I also pointed out a few passages in the Koran that do not sit well with me to demonstrate that even if he bashes Jesus' divinity to a pulp, I will not jump into Islam. He didn't like that very much. I am not against Islam nor its followers and I'm always open to learn something new about any religion-my Judaism class, studies on Hinduism and Sikhism are clear testimonies of that. However, my faith is firmly rooted. Religious debates such as these are pointless. Islam awareness day wasn't about my faith, but about his, so I'm at a loss as to why he made mine the focus.

I suggested that, for future references, since he so earnestly wants to convert the masses, he should start by extolling his faith and reading a few verses of the Koran with them instead of telling them that they are an illogical unbeliever and are going to be roommates with Satan. What a day! It's all water under the bridge now as he apologized (he also took down my number to continue the discussion. It's horrible of me, but I will be dodging that call like a bullet).

Evidently, his attitude is not singular to the Islamic faith; there are pushy Christians who adopt the same attitude in regards to people of different beliefs. Pushy atheists exist as well. There are pushy people period, and if that trait is ingrained into your character than regardless of what you call yourself, you'll be of the pushy variety. I'm a firm believer in the adage: "ask and you shall receive." If anyone is interested in knowing about Jesus from me, they could just ask and I'd be happy to answer any questions to the best of my capability.

Lesson of the day: If anyone tells me that my sense of logic is inferior to that of a child and my faith is pointless, I will smile, nod and go my merry way.

*I was offended and amused all at once. I just can't imagine ever telling someone such a thing!

Cheapy Thursdays

2011-03-09T22:53:00.000-08:00

I went to buy my bus pass this month and as I took out my debit card to pay for it, I had a moment of hesitation since I did not remember my password. That never happens. It then dawned on me that it had been a good minute since I used my debit card. I'm great at penny-pinching and I only spend when truly necessary. I've been unemployed since September, and before I said goodbye to the coffee shop, my beloved coworkers and tips, I saved my dimes. Of course, it helps that I live with my mother. That sense of security will soon come to an end as I will move out come July. I do pay all my bills; I am the furthest thing from pampered. Graduate studies will cost me 3,000$+ per semester come Fall. But, no stress. I know people may find me insane for quitting a job without having another one lined up. I was honestly thinking about my state of mind; working there caused me to hate my truly blessed life on many occasions. And, that is no exaggeration.

I won this fabulous book called "The Frugalista Files" via QuixoticOnline. Written by Nathalie McNeal in the first person, it explores how she killed her 20,000$ debt within two years' time while still maintaining her swagger. I haven't yet finished the book. So far, I agree with her philosophy and I realized that I also had a thing or two to say on the subject.

As previously mentioned, I do not have to trouble myself with rent for now (Thank you, Jesus!). However, as my mother doesn't cook that often and I am a grown woman after all, my tummy is my own responsibility. The tips below could also apply to the following profile: rent-payer, unemployed, saved money before quitting tiresome job all in the hopes of putting a bit of fire under their ass to rush the job finding process. If you were fired or laid off, and the news of it came as a surprise, some of these tips may still be of help at least where your stomach is concerned.

I have a key to Joel's place so sometimes when I'm not quite sure if there is food in my own home, I go over to his apartment and raid his fridge as he lives 10 minutes away. Raid actually is a strong word, I would say sample. Visit a friend who enjoys good food (and who enjoys your company) as often as would be acceptable and non-creepy. Do bring a little something something. Being a mooch is never cool. Split costs. On the other hand, if said person is a mother/father figure, chill and open your mouth real wide (I 'm presuming that would be the necessary course of action. But, it always depends). In fact, I'm being treated to a meal at a restaurant this Sunday for the simple fact that the person in question knew me since I was a tot. #Winning!
Have celebratory potlucks for the simplest of occasions. For example, if you've aced an exam, a celebratory potluck is in order. Check out your grocery store flyers, buy some vegetables, cook some pasta, throw in some diced tomatoes, cheese, black pepper, olive oil and salt. I'm salivating already. *I totally just made up that recipe on the spot, but you get my drift. Don't forget to invite your friends.
Do not be too shy to take home leftovers. On Saturdays, after church, there is always a lunch at someone's house. Rest assured that I do not leave empty-handed.
Bake bread instead of buying ready-sliced loaves at the store. One loaf of homemade bread lasted me a week. A bag of flour costs approximately 3$; the whole bag wasn't even used and three were baked. I'm using the passive voice because I didn't want to give away the fact that no, I didn't bake them myself. That, my friends, is called a lie by omission as I learned on Dr.Phil this evening. Did anyone catch on to it before I made my shocking revelation?
It may be tempting, but enjoy those free Mcdonalds deals sparingly. A friend of mine felt compelled to buy a soda in order to look less cheap while claiming that free breakfast.
The dollar store is your friend; non-perishables are your ally. Granted, they aren't as good as fresh veggies and beans, but there is a convenience factor that is so tempting.
Water is your best friend.

It goes without saying that if you're jobless, you probably shouldn't be eating out (as frequently as you used to). Groceries stores are the way to go! I shop there as need be. Basically, this is how I've been surviving in the food department since September. Also, it was my birthday in January, so I received a few free meals to celebrate! Quitting your job shouldn't be taken lightly. Plan ahead, preferably around your birthday. I kid.

PS. Although the post is marked as Wednesday, it's well after 12am my time. I've already welcomed Thursday with open arms;)

Feel free to give me some tips. A penny-pincher would love to know;)

Red Hot Passion

2011-03-08T23:25:00.000-08:00

Empire Isis is taking time out of her busy schedule (she tours all over the world) to host this year's Knowledge is Sexy (KIS). For those of you who are new to my blog, I, along with a friend, organize a benefit concert for HIV/AIDS organizations annually. Well, this is our second year in "business". We shall raise funds for SOS Children's Villages and the Native Friendship Center. KIS also aims to raise awareness about the pandemic because so many people are of the opinion that it's only a third-world country issue or that of the promiscuous or drug-addicted.

In primary school, I would read my mother's discarded magazines. Fashion was my passion and I also enjoyed reading the articles therein. One day, I stumbled upon a story about a woman who had a positive HIV status and who unknowingly had transmitted the virus to her daughter at birth. I remember being so afraid of contracting the virus. My fear was hyperbolic, but if you've read the post on my strange phobia, it should come as no surprise. I knew sex and drugs were not in my present, but I grew afraid of a future me, of the decisions I would make as an adult. Blood transfusions and tattoos didn't even cross my mind then.

Subsequent to reading said piece, I projected myself into a future and imagined the regret I would feel over who I had had unprotected sex with and I also envisioned an opiate laden path to infection (I have a hefty imagination). Besides that, I would lay down on my bed at nighttime and attempt to come up with a cure. I was quite the ~~weird~~ ambitious one. I, as a tween, attempted to resolve what scientists have yet to do. I thought along the lines of constantly replenishing the patient's white blood cells. I know, groundbreaking wasn't it?

In the midst of it all (fear + imagining a cure), I had an epiphany. The stigma attached to the virus could be of equal severity as the virus itself. Don't get me wrong, AIDS is deadly. I think of HIV as a crafty weapon as it disables your system from protecting itself from all things foreign and harmful. Now imagine an army attacking the opposing force in such a manner. First, army#1 takes away all of army#2's weapons and then brings in a horde of enemies to annihilate them. The job gets done, but their hands remain devoid of blood. Technically, no one dies of AIDS, they succumb to ensuing complications i.e. tuberculosis, pneumonia, Kaposi's sarcoma etc. It's safe to say that no one really wants the virus even though there is treatment-which comes with it's own set of side-effects and no cure-. However, another reason why people wouldn't want to be infected would be due to the rejection and unfounded fear the virus may arise in their peers. Once that realization hit me, I knew that it wasn't death that I was initially worried about. At that age, I more so thought about the rejection and people possibly avoiding me like the plague. Many researches have proven that anxiety and depression are more common in people with HIV than the general population. Suicide then becomes a very probable outcome. Coping with one's mortality is not the only culprit; the reason for their distress could also be a friend who refuses to share a glass with them, being disowned by their parents and discrimination at the work place.

Through Knowledge is Sexy, I really want to strip all the unnecessary baggage away from the virus and look at it as is. This way, we'd see HIV in a similar manner that we see cancer. Yes, there still may be pity involved, but it's far better than alienation for fear of contagion and discrimination. Even the term "HIV positive" slightly irks me because it turns the virus into an identity. As human beings, we judge identities all the time. Gay, Straight, Christian, Muslim, Black, White, Trans, Rich, Poor etc. are all subject to our collective judgmental gaze. If you see HIV as an identity then you might be tempted to ask: "Who is HIV?". HIV is not gay, promiscuous, African or on drugs. HIV is a virus, as we all know, that lives in semen, breast milk, blood and vaginal fluids. No identity required. What is required, however, is for everyone to know how to adequately protect themselves. Knowledge is sexy.

How to: dissipate anger

2011-03-03T21:53:00.000-08:00

I have this strange tendency of smiling when I see Joel after an argument whilst the issue still looms between us. As I see him from afar, I have to chant at the cadence of my footsteps "Don't smile" to control the corners of my mouth from turning upward. And then, he looks my way and I crack a smile reducing my clever ploy of broadcasting the sternest countenance into sheer ruins.

Now when he's frustrated with me and I'm not particularly offended, I find humor in the situation because he looks like a baby when he sulks. The picture below was taken [by me] as he concentrated on his Iphone, totally ignoring me, angry. Once he noticed that I had been taking pictures of him, he got even more upset, which made me ~~smile~~ laugh even more. I sound evil right about now, but he does the same to me. He tickles me until he fears that the noise of my screams would bother his neighbors. Of course, after the laughter dies down, we tackle the problem once more with much more understanding and in better spirits.

PS. I am no relationship expert, and this method was not developed purposefully. We're just too wacky spirits who took the adage "laughter heals the soul" to new heights. I'm pretty sure that rendering your partner into a puddle of chuckles in the midst of a squabble would not go over too well for everyone;)

The "I'm not dark" syndrome

2011-02-27T23:47:00.000-08:00

In a previous post "One drop of Black Blood", I explored the topic of colorism. Much can be said about this "ism" that plagues so many different communities. From the African to Asian diasporas, women and men alike can be found layering bleaching creams unto their skin and avoiding the sun. While listening to a song by Lil Wayne, which to my defense, has a dope beat, the lyrics "Beautiful black woman, I bet that b*itch look better red" jumped out at me. I'm not surprised that such ignorance came out of Wayne's cough-syrup-downing mouth, but it did cause me to reflect on the mentality that I have encountered in a couple of dark-skinned individuals in my vicinity.

Person #1. Over the phone, the lad in question informed me that cornrows looked great on light-skinned men. Thus, he figured that the style would compliment him as well.

My reaction:

Credit: Homeopathic Lice Treatment

I asked him to repeat that statement, since I couldn't believe my ears. I wasn't shocked because he thought that the color of one's skin took precedence over head shape and facial structure in this case, but I was surprised that someone close to my complexion could see himself as light-skinned. Upon hearing him say it again, I didn't hesitate to say: "You're not light-skinned." He didn't want to be described as having dark skin; in my opinion, his self-imposed dissociation stems from the negative connotations attached to dark-skinned persons. I told him that there was nothing wrong with having dark skin and that he should embrace it. I'm not particularly fond of labels, but let's call a spade or spade or not call it anything at all. If you are to subscribe to such definitions as light/dark-skinned, then it is only fitting to categorize yourself appropriately in my opinion. Also, I didn't want him to say such ludicrous statements to other people and have them find him odd.

Person #2. Upon returning from Ghana, the lady in question said that the little girls in her neighborhood had found her really pretty. However, she was troubled because she wasn't sure if they appreciated her beauty solely due to her light-skin.

My reaction:

Credit: Lostpedia

Now, I didn't know her well enough to contradict her in her own self-perception, however distorted. Actually, people can call themselves green if they so chose, but it troubles me since their reluctance to describe their skin as dark testifies to a negative and false perception of being chocolate-hued or even close to ebony.

Dark-skinned persons have been seen as inferior for so long, and I get that those ideas are hard to shake. Have you ever noticed the words "light-skinned" in descriptions on social media websites? I have on many occasions. Although the person in question's page is already bustling with clear pictures of themselves, he/she still found the need to write "light-skinned" in the general description section. Usually, in that area, I specify that I'm a singer/writer, but some people prefer other things as their badge of honor. Sad and strange truly.

Q: Should more be done within our communities to address this issue? What concrete steps should be taken?

Fluidity

2011-02-21T23:10:00.000-08:00

T-shirt: Nouveau Riche Colors

Pictures taken by: Malay

As a child, my narrow definition of a lesbian was that of a woman who slept with women. As such, I declared to my mother that I was a lesbian since my sister and I shared a bed. She promptly corrected me and expounded on what exactly is meant when the word "lesbian" is employed. To this day, she recounts the story without a single chuckle spared.

A month or so ago, I saw an episode of the Oprah Winfrey Show which explored queer issues. One interview in particular blew the audience away. The woman in question had been happily married with children before she met the actual love of her life at a retreat. She was blind-sighted by this infatuation and butterflies overwhelmed her gut. It was love, and she had never felt this way before--especially not toward a woman. But there it was; the feelings hit her like a ton of bricks. Once she returned home to her family, she told her husband that she had fallen in love with a woman during her brief getaway. Not to worry, he was quite happy that she had come to him with such news as he himself was curious about men.

I told a friend that my sexuality was fixed in that I was attracted to men, but she replied: "Maybe you just haven't met the right woman yet." I think some people's sexuality's are fluid, but I don't think it's a golden rule that applies to every single human being on this globe. Granted, we're all on a road to self-discovery, and like Justin Beiber would say, we must never say never. But, I know for me, although I do appreciate female beauty, that I am not attracted to the female body nor do I think about women as anything more than a friend. My sexual immutability is not due to social implications nor out of fear of the lesbian label. I simply am attracted to muscles. Now, once my husband starts to age and loses his definition, there may be a problem there. I just may have to toss him to the wind and get my groove back just like Stella did except my beau's sexuality would have to be a bit more rock-steady than her now ex-husband's turned out to be. I kid. People who identify as heterosexual have the privilege of not having to explain the reasons why they love the opposite sex nor do they have to identify the moment when they were attuned to their desires.

I think we can be progressive without adhering to every idea that is branded as such. Am I to be seen as repressed because my sexuality happens to conform to society's norms (well, at the least in terms of my heterosexuality) and I have absolutely no curiosity for the other side so to speak?

Q: Do you think sexuality is fluid for everyone?

Germaphobe

2011-02-18T21:06:00.000-08:00

Def.An abnormal fear of dirt or contamination.

Credit: David Bunnell's eclectic world

Well I've been absent for a good minute. Perhaps, I was mustering the courage to reveal a side of me that once was, a side that I had all too conveniently forgotten. Dramatic intro aside, really this week was merely too hectic. After reading this and/or throughout, you may laugh; the only condition is that you do so with me as opposed to thinking that I should be part of a case study. Here it goes. In primary school, I refused to touch door knobs without the protective shield of my t-shirt sleeve. I also brought this behavior into my own home. After watching "What about Bob?", I had figured that the main character's trick of using a handkerchief as a barrier between his person and any foreign microscopic being could be a viable and very smart option for me. I don't know how I got over it, but I did in a matter of weeks. I think I grew tired of hiding the fact that I opened doors in such a way. I would go from the main floor to the basement only when there was no one in sight; make my way to the washroom only when the coast was clear; and open the door that lead outside only when my baby brother wasn't tailing behind. Even at that age, there wasn't an ounce of a doubt that I was flirting between two words: that of sanity and nonsensicality. In this epic battle, the former eventually won.

But, then I started flushing the toilet with my foot since I figured that the handle was covered with billions of germs. One day, my mother caught me doing so and said: "This isn't a public bathroom; you don't have to do that." And that was all needed to hear. As a child, my mother could rid me of all fear. When my older brother caught the chicken pox, I was petrified of him. He found the whole thing pretty funny, but he respected my wishes that he stay away from me. I remember the relief I felt when my mother would come home from work (to save me from my germ infested sibling--whom I did love, might I add). I eventually came down with this brand of pox as well. As I noticed those unwanted bumps which had parked themselves on my stomach, I believed that my life had come to an end.

Things have changed. Now, I don't run away from sick people. In fact, Joel has a cold, on his birthday, mind you. Although I did tell him to keep his germs to himself (with love, of course) since I'm performing on Saturday, I didn't hesitate to hug him on countless occasions as we watched television on the couch.

I am quite certain that my germaphobia is cured. In some people, the sight of the unclean arouses nausea, dizziness and a raised heart rate. I never got to that point; I'm glad I kicked this obsession to the curb.

Q: Did you/Do you have any strange phobias?

How to: start a business with a friend

2011-02-09T20:13:00.000-08:00

1. Don't.

Credit: Techweez

Pardon my slight pessimism mixed in with a good dose of humor. If any of you have success stories, feel free to share:) I'm not totally opposed to the idea.

How to: get back the spark

2011-02-06T08:58:00.000-08:00

My dad's romantic gesture to my mom photographed by yours truly.

There is so much written content dedicated to maintaining a romantic relationship. We are told to be spontaneous, break out of the usual quality time in front of a television screen and spruce things up with a movie night, sporadic mountain climbing adventure or a supper at a fancy restaurant. It goes without saying that a relationship needs work.

Friendships, on the other hand, are not given as much thought. We go days, sometimes even months, without talking to or seeing a friend, which is natural since life oftentimes pulls us in different directions. Luckily, when we do make time for one another, things could be just the way they had always been: natural and effortlessly so. In the adverse case, when after x amount of years of friendship, the habitual nonsensical banter, laughter and shoulder-to-lean-on dynamics are replaced by an ice-cold awkward silence, we more easily nix that bond without as much ado than if it had been a boy/girlfriend who had inexplicably become distant. How many of us actually make enough effort to get to the bottom of this newfound distance before calling it quits and chanting the adage: "Some people are here for a reason, some for a season and some for a lifetime"?

You just may inquire about what could be troubling your pal, but the effort remains unrequited. You find yourself always calling the person in question, and for a reason unknown to you, the person neglects to reciprocate although he or she did promise to "call you back". You may be considerate and give them space, but once this consideration wanes, resentment and hurt on your end builds up. Are there steps to take to rekindle the spark of a friendship gone astray? There is nothing really you can do if your friend is experiencing a low moment in which she or he feels that they cannot talk to anyone. Patience truly is a virtue.

It could be that your friend is bottling up anger towards you and isn't the type to share, or maybe you both are not taking that extra step since you now live in different countries. Regardless of why a good positive friendship is slipping away, here are a few things to bear in mind:

1. In any form of human interaction, we must communicate our needs/wants and dislikes. If not, you'd have your boyfriend constantly tickling you as he finds it humorous to see you squirm, while you, on the other hand, utterly loathe having your arm pits fondled. Talk, talk and more talking is in order. As for a long-distance situation, Skype was invented with this in mind. Now, if you're both just ridiculously busy, the same effort has to be made. Even a text message once a week could keep that ball rolling.

2.You will have to make time to visit your friend as they must do for you. I have two friends who moved to Ottawa and their main complaint is that their friends have never once come to visit even though they live a mere two hours away. This tip also applies to longer distances. Despite the higher costs and time away from home such a trip may incur, it is still a viable option; where there is a will there is a way. You could agree to meet each other half-way when time permits.

3. Send them special somethings. Whether it may be an e-card, a bouquet of flowers or a book, these little gestures can really turn a sour day into a great one. Thank you, Jen. We must realize that the task of showing someone they are special does not solely lie in their beaux; we must uplift our friends and of course, our family.

4. Turn "we should grab a coffee sometime" into a concrete date. Remember that certain someone from elementary school with whom you use to share lunches, laughs and birthday invitation cards? Why don't you reach out to said person as you both had determined when you first became friends on Facebook? We get quite comfortable with the people in our immediate circle; it's never a band thing to branch out.

I am in no way the perfect friend. Actually, a few friends and I used to liken ourselves to the foursome in Girlfriends. Now, now we hardly see each other, and two aren't even on speaking terms. The love is still there, but the meet-ups are few and far in between. I believe we could have maintained some form of constancy if we had really made the effort to do so.

Perhaps we feel that since romance requires a lot, we are seeking something carefree with our friends.

Q: Should friendship require "work"?

A "Shake my head" moment

2011-02-01T22:52:00.000-08:00

Thoughts that came to mind:

1. These comedians DO NOT know how to imitate a Jamaican accent
2. Why? Why is this happening?
3. This video does not portray Jamaicans and/or Black people in a very positive light
4. As Chimamanda Adichie says, "the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete"

This video had me giggling up a storm. Blame it on my penchant for slapstick comedy.

Rebirth

2011-01-27T21:49:00.000-08:00

Credit: Neslockheart

Somehow, I feel like the person in this image. He is falling to pieces, but it's beautiful. You can interpret a same subject in adverse ways. He's dying. He's being set free. As I looked at my face, eyelashes wet from distress, I thought to myself: "This is beautiful." With tears comes renewal.

Mama and her son

2011-01-24T21:28:00.000-08:00

I was introduced to this song today. I love it; it's especially good when listened at the highest volume and you're in an open space wherein you can jump up and down and dance as fits your fancy. But do tell, In a video clip praising mothers, why is there a half-naked woman on a bed with money being thrown at her as if she were a stripper or the best dancer at a Cameroonian get-together*?

A man's relationship with his mother is said to be telling: he learns about the female gender from his mother's actions and/or opinions on the selfsame topic. There is nothing new under the sun. Shakespeare's character Hamlet harbors anger towards his mother since she marries her late husband's brother Claudius shortly after his passing. Hamlet feels betrayed and becomes suspicious of women since, according to him, a woman's love is fleeting. The poor Ophelia, his potential wife, is consequently subject to his ludicrous and disrespectful behavior. Whilst in confrontation with his mother, Hamlet kills Polonius (Claudia's father) by mistake as he was hiding behind the curtains. Ophelia goes mad, and it's safe to say, commits suicide.

Now, not to fret. A man's dysfunctional relationship with his mother does not necessarily translate into his partner's demise. A strained relationship could be due to a number of circumstances and even the mother's own bad character and/or issues. The abrasive nature of their [lack of a] bond does not have to be a correlation with the man in question's overall bad demeanor. As for me, I find it endearing when a man is close to his mother. Based on the common presumption, a man who maintains best friend status with his mother without the latter being overbearing, treats his love interests just as well. But it's not always the case. I don't have any concrete examples in my life, but I'm sure that there are some merciless serial cheaters** out there who have a I <3 Mommy tattoo somewhere on their body.

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*We throw money and/or place it on the foreheads of people who dance. It's part of our culture.

**Mistakes happen. I am referring to people who really don't care and cheat on the same person relentlessly because they know that he or she will never leave them.

This is my confession

2011-01-20T21:49:00.000-08:00

The fact hit me like a ton of bricks. Standing in front of the stove, wooden spatula in hand, I tasted a spoonful of my concoction, and it slid down my throat and quickly transformed itself into regret. I shouldn't have added ginger to the sauce. The chickpea pancakes were falling apart in the frying pan until I threw in some wheat flour to salvage the rest of the batter. I'm not a cook. I'm more of a snack person. Give me a dozen bananas, a bag of peanuts, some cheese, grapes and popcorn, and I'll love you forever.

PS. My older brother once purposely seasoned eggs with sugar. I feel somewhat better.

What is your greatest cooking fail?

How to: successfully get back with a fresh ex

2011-01-18T19:45:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: This is not a post about how to get back with someone who doesn't want you, but rather 5 things to consider when both parties want to rekindle their love in a smooth manner and are hoping to prevent continuous breakups in the future.

Credit: The Breakup Blog

Upon hearing that I was seeing someone in May, a good number of my friends asked me if I had gotten back together with my ex. I told them no,which cause them to laugh and say something along the lines of: "well you know how us women are, we're forgiving." I am not purporting to be an expert on the infamous back and forth, but I will say that there has to be a proper way to go about things, an unsaid code, if you will.

1. Clearly determine why you split up in the first place and talk about it. Take a piece of paper, or plop yourselves in front of a computer screen and carefully jot down the reason(s) why one or both of you decided your paths should cross no more. I find it would be helpful to keep "minutes" during these heart-to-hearts. Was it a spur of the moment "I hate your guts, we're over" because one of you had left a sock lying in the middle of the room and the other is a neat-freak? Or a colossal, I slept with someone else while you were home sick with the flu kind of ending? In any case, if you throw yourself right back into the relationship without much thought, such action is basically the equivalent of hurling yourself unto a moving truck, bar of course, the blood and broken bones.

2. Take it slow. Assuming everything is peachy after a day isn't too safe for your human heart, which is pretty vulnerable considering that without one, you perish. Do not take off your bullet proof vest right of the bat. Baby steps will take you far, and in those steps includes a lot of communication.

3. Be mindful of what you say to your friends and family. You may be more inclined to forgive and work things out than they are. If you feel the need to share, filter out the exaggerations and colorful names such as "asshole, idiot, jerk etc.", and just rely on the facts. It's normal that they'd feel protective over your happiness, and seeing you in distress would make them reluctant to accept your decision to return to the source of your pain. Listen to their opinions, and ultimately listen to yourself.

4. Ask your significant other if he or she was sexually active during your time off. If the answer is negative, determine whether or not to trust their word, and if you don't, get them retested (assuming that you've both been tested at the start of your relationship). If the answer is yes, I would propose a retest. If you do decide against a test, let it be because you genuinely trust in the fact that they were safe and not because you do not want to inconvenience said person. Blood and urine tests aren't pleasant, and I can relate since I've been through more than enough in a short period of time as of late due to my cantankerous stomach. If a person who loathes needles like me can do it, anyone can. As for the urethra and cervical swabs, one of my tests also included having a long tube violently shoved up my you know what. Enough said.

5. Refrain from announcing it on Facebook until you are 100% certain it is done, and I mean so done you'd be inclined to call it Cajun. I know if it ended badly, there probably would be a race to see who severs the ties online first, but try not to think about that. Having people "like" and comment on the demise of your relationship is awkward to say the least. Once you two lovebirds actually decide to get back together, and declare it on Facebook once again, alas you have just invited your collective network of hundreds/thousands of people into the drama of your relationship.

I am sure there is more that could be said. What do you think are proper steps to take?

Pjs, hair tied, chillin' with no makeup on

2011-01-15T19:32:00.000-08:00

I've discovered that a sure way to drive Joel out of my house is to force him to take pictures of me. I bid him farewell at the door with a piece of baked chicken, his well-merited compensation, which was, might I add, seasoned to perfection. The arm poses are his idea; in his opinion, they are the way they are because of his stellar training skills. As for my hair, I've been wearing it in a messy bun these days simply because it's easy to do.

Random Q: Are most of your friends pretty/handsome? One of my good friends told me that, unpurposely, all her friends are lookers. I remember seeing a televised study wherein a bunch of kindergardeners were asked to select one of the two women presented before them on the basis of who would be the nicer teacher. Woman #1 was young and pretty and woman #2 was slightly older, and it's safe to say, not someone who turns heads as she walks down the street nor who gets instant admiration as she enters a party. The students determined the prettier one to be the nicest based solely on her good looks. In grade 5, I took on the responsibility of walking a class of little ones into school after recess. One of the students looked at me one day and told me that she didn't like my face. Apparently, it was too round for her taste. Lesson: whether it be in the selection of friends, boyfriends, teachers or employees, looks are a major factor.

All things natural: vegan challenge

2011-01-10T20:53:00.000-08:00

Chickpea burger

As I mentioned before, I'm a bit of a health nut. I've been thinking about doing a month-long vegan (food wise) challenge to start off the new year. However, sabbath lunch comprised of turkey, chicken, baked fish, boileen and various homemade baked goods is my Achilles heel.

Nonetheless, it would be awesome to try a new vegan recipe each day and share with you all the recipe alongside pictures. I will say though that I am no fan of measurements as it pertains to cooking. When I cook, I throw in random amounts of ingredients and hope for the best. My lack of discipline in this area at the least has proven to be rather interesting, and not at all sickness-inducing thus far. So if I do decide to embark on this journey, I may or may not include the quantity required. I may instead break down my scrumptious meals in such manner: "pour in enough water to render the mix a mud-like consistency...not that parched mud, but that fresh-rain-inducing-juicy-worms-out-of-the-earth-to mate mud".

Eliminating meat isn't that much of a problem for me, but cheese, cheese is one of my favorite snacks. The sweetness of grapes cut by the tartness of cheese is one of those things that are so good, as my father says, that it would drive you into a whimsical state wherein you would waltz over to the house nearest to you and slap your neighbor.

Speaking of ~~cheese~~ ~~worms~~ ~~violence against neighbors~~ health, I try to use natural hair products as well. Right now, I'm using Shea moisture's curl enhancing smoothie, Yes to Carrots, which is 99% made from natural ingredients, and a blend of different oils. My hair is noticeably softer. I can't believe I would sometimes only use gel on my hair as a "moisturizer", which produced unhappy ends.

Two weeks ago, while I was in Atlanta, I put expired mayonnaise on my hair as a makeshift conditioner. Yes, expired. I was desperate and out of conditioner. Having researched homemade conditioners, I found that the only ingredients that I had at home were olive oil, expired mayonnaise and honey. I'll spare you the slippery details, but let's just say that I'm more skilled at putting together delicious platters (at least to my palate) than concocting anything that has to do with hair.

Hoodwinked

2011-01-07T20:47:00.000-08:00

I wish what happened was even remotely this funny

I'm much more outspoken than I used to be in my younger years, so when I ordered a banana-strawberry smoothie and the waitress brought me a banana-strawberry flavored icy beverage, I spoke my mind.

Upon first glance, it looked like spewed-out peptol bismol with a few droplets of blood red food coloring. Bravely, I took a sip and was met with what tasted like a mixture of ice and sugar. I try to eat as natural as possible; I've eliminated condiments, read the labels on packages and I'm mindful of what I order at restaurants. So, I made it a point to ask the waitress what was in the drink before I ordered it.

Upon telling her that she had made a mistake, she began to argue with me and lie that she had told me beforehand that it wasn't made with real fruits. I was calm and collected and told her that on the menu, there was no mention of flavoring and that she had clearly told me that the drink only contained bananas, strawberries and milk. She responded: "That'll be 3,92$". Basically, I had to pay for it even though I didn't drink it. Since I didn't want to further entertain the other clients and perpetuate the stereotype of the mad Black woman, I paid her the amount withholding the tip, of course. She was nevertheless trying to prove her nonsensical point, babbling on and on. I told her that she had gotten what she'd wanted, as in money, so she should drop the issue. I left the cafe, and she left as well to have a smoke. I guess I had stressed her out.

Even though it was just roughly four dollars, I was boiling. I hate being bamboozled.

Q: Should I have refused to pay or did I do the right thing? What would you have done?

I'm a bad mother [shut your mouth]

2011-01-05T19:02:00.000-08:00

I've come to the realization that more people than I had previously thought read my blog. Every time someone utters the words "I love your blog", I am floored. Even if the person in question were to have told me in the past that they read it, I would be pleasantly surprised a week or two later to hear that they still checked up on this corner. Does this perpetual eye-ball-out-of-my sockets like experience testify to a lack of confidence on my part?

I'm pretty sure I don't see myself the way others do. I have a tendency to judge myself rather harshly at times, and sadly, more often than not, I walk around wearing an invisible "mediocre" chain blinged out with doubt and a violin. It wasn't always this way. See, in elementary I was the girl who didn't speak an ounce of French and yet who managed to be the top of her class in all subjects except gym. I was also the girl who shied away from asking her mother to pay for her school outings, because she knew that with that same 10$, her mother could feed her household on a bag of rice for at least a month. I felt wise, and although I didn't feel particularly pretty, I knew I was blessed and lucky. High-school, or more so, adolescence came and swept that blessed assurance away.

Praise God that awkward phase is over, but the need to constantly second-guess myself remained. This afternoon, I had a meeting with one of my old professors concerning my grad school application. She told me: "You think in ways that other students don't, but you need to use that to the fullest and be more disciplined". She is definitely right about my slight lack of discipline as I take on so many projects at once and oftentimes find it hard not to leave certain things to the last minute. Regardless, the first half of her assessment had me smizing à la Tyra Banks. I smiled. She smiled. The moment was magical. She then flirted with the idea of, if funding permits, having me as her research assistant. At this point, I felt as if I were in the twilight zone.

I am familiar with my current strong points: music, writing, observing and analyzing. From this point onward, I will further explore these areas and see just how well I do them and can excel at them with a little more confidence and drive.

The true essence of humility is knowing that you are great, yet also recognizing the greatness in others.

Q: What makes you great?

The ugly virgin

2010-12-29T12:22:00.001-08:00

Google male virgin and you'll find many pictures like this

Credit: Escapistmagazine.com

There is a misconception that the only men (18+) who are still virgins are those who have yet to receive the mainstream stamp of approval that they are indeed "attractive". Or. There must be something intrinsically and seriously wrong with them if they haven't yet made the Shakespearian beast with two backs.

Needless to say, I am not a male virgin. But, I find this stereotype quite alarming. Why is it that a man, as soon as he hits puberty, has to jump into the nearest vagina to prove his normalcy/manhood? This is nothing new. What has struck me as of late is the fact that good-looking guys are expected to have an incontrollable penis; it does not have a curfew; it goes where it pleases and with who it pleases regardless of previous engagements. Some women have a fear of dating a man who is desired by many women for the mere possibility that he may be unfaithful.

What happens to a "good-looking" male virgin? 1. People think he's weird 2. People think he's lying 3.People think he's weird for lying about such a thing

Q: What if someone tells you that he or she knows a man who hasn't yet lost his virginity? Who would you expect to be the mystery guy? Someone attractive or not?

Below is a clip from the show "Girlfriends". Lynn's boyfriend of 9 months Sivad is celibate, and she thinks there has to be something wrong with him. She and her friend Mia then turn his apartment upside down in order to find out what the thing is. In this clip, you will also encounter Joan, an attorney who is cheating on her actor boyfriend with his agent.

I cheated

2010-12-28T10:28:00.000-08:00

...on you blogger. I've embarked into a relationship with tumblr and I am not ashamed. I even sort of kind of...like it better. Maybe, I am simply enthralled by it's novelty and format. In any case, I am still keeping blogger because, as a young man explained to me about loving two women at the same time, it's like loving cheesecake and ice-cream. The fact that I find one delicious doesn't take away from the other's sweet savor.

Check it out: http://magdaayuk.tumblr.com/

PS. I plan on giving this spot a face lift in the near future.

Challenge

2010-12-25T19:03:00.001-08:00

The idea came to me to do a picture review of my 2010 with the photos I have saved on my cellphone.

Butterflies are self propelled flowers. ~R.H. Heinlein

The sadness I felt from the breakup is so foreign to me at this point. It is as if it happened to a different person. I cannot imagine ever again being so distraught over another's disrespect towards me.

I refuse to see death as the end of all things. Death is simply existing in another form, in another place. Although the thought of her passing still saddens me, I have now accepted it with the calm assurance that all is well.

I was on fire: partying, feeling like a "femme fatale" and loving not being tied to one person. I even saved money from not going to the movies as often as I did when I was with ex.

I graduated and co-founded Knowledge is sexy. The former leaves me feeling indifferent at the moment. I feel absolutely no sense of pride, but I'm guessing it is due to the fact that I am jobless. As for the latter, is it just me are is it extremely hard to get people to open their eyes to the fact that HIV is right next door and not just in "third-world" countries?

I met a man with whom I can make silly faces, dance like a maniac and show my truest colors, and within [less than] a week's time, we were inseparable. His Vincentian accent still hasn't lost its novelty; I love imitating him, and that of course, to his face.

His apartment then became my second [Montreal] home.

I began searching for a job in my field: editing, writing, copy-editing, proofreading. At the moment, I freelance for Demand Studios, M.I.S.S. and the Examiner.

To be continued...

A piece of me

2010-12-23T18:36:00.000-08:00

I am wearing a traditional Cameroonian dress (akabar) with combat boots. Why, you ask? It's the only shoes besides my sneakers that I brought with me to Atlanta. This dress is actually a gift from my aunt to my mother, and it's meant to be loose-fitting and donned on those days were you don't want to be bothered with clothing.

Touch my mouth with your hands

2010-12-22T12:10:00.000-08:00

This song almost brought me to tears, and I've had it on repeat on and off for more than an hour. "You inspire me to be the higher me. You make my desire pure [...] All that I've known is gone, all I was building on. I don't want to walk with you. How do I talk to you? Touch my mouth with your hands." Lately, when I talk to God, all I find myself saying is a list of complaints. When I realize my ingratitude, I cut the prayer short and call it a night.

That said, Lauryn Hill is the best female artist our generation has seen in my opinion. She inspires me.

The beauty in nudity

2010-12-10T21:02:00.000-08:00

Photo credit: Oilpaintingframes.com

As I think about the way many people relate to their naked bodies, I realize that my views are quite opposite, and perchance more in line with nudists [without the added need for public display]. I find we all look better naked. As I look in the mirror before taking a shower, I like what I see. I do not look at my reflection and pinpoint the things that need to change. For me, it's not about being a certain size as I find that women who society would deem overly plump [without being morbidly obese], are beautiful without clothing. Not to say that people who are obese have ugly bodies, but health at any size is important. As for clothes, if not chosen properly, they can cling to the wrong parts and make you look plain wrong, and this is coming from a lover of fashion.

I find the female body more beautiful than a man's body generally speaking. Sadly, my definition of beauty is somewhat more restrictive when it comes to men. Of course, their faces can be cute regardless of ethnic background, age and acne. However, for their bodies to be considered works of art in my opinion, they need to look as if they were actually sculpted in marble. I'm not saying that I won't date a man who doesn't look like this, as personality and love can certainly overpower one's sense of aesthetic, and rightfully so. However, in order for me to swoon and label said person as a magnificent[-looking] creature crafted by God himself and not by the simple copulation act of his parents, they need to look strong, straight in posture with defined muscles all over without looking like the Hulk, as in not green and not scary.

A study conducted by UCLA professors Frederic and Haselton "Why is muscularity sexy" show that women (ages 18-25) rate men who are built and toned as more sexually-desirable, attractive and physically dominant while viewing chubby men as most-inclined to stay committed. The slender men got voted the most volatile. In essence, women view built men as potential mates since they could pass on their good genes to their children.

Chubby men and chubby women are viewed in similar fashions in society. Women, however, are increasingly being told to love their curves. The Dove campaign and the movie "Real women have curves" both show that women come in all shapes and sizes, and that all should be celebrated. On the other hand, slender and chubby men are never given much appreciation in the media. Then again, would these men want campaigns telling them that they are beautiful regardless of their love handles or protruding collar bones? Perhaps. Men's insecurities aren't given much attention since they are to be strong and should handle their issues on their own. Men have body issues too. They may long to be chiseled, tall, perchance even with less chest hair.

To these men, I say although I regrettably [somehow I feel bad] share the mainstream taste for the sculpted man, you too are beautiful because you are you and you are unique.

Dishing to your hairdresser

2010-12-10T13:07:00.000-08:00

Photo credit:Timesunion.com

I'm not exactly sure how it is with other cultures, but I do know that a Black woman's relationship with her hairdresser can be one filled with gossip, peeks into your personal life and even secrets that you may not have told anyone else. You have a certain level of faith in her ability to stay mum because you know she doesn't know anyone in your circle and for the simple fact that if you can trust her with your cherished locks, you probably can trust her with everything else [to a certain degree, of course].

I got my hair braided again to keep it protected during the winter season, and for three hours, my hairdresser and I had a great time talking about failed relationships, interracial relationships, natural and permed hair, religion, spirituality and everything in between. We laughed; I even almost shed a tear, but that was due to the pain associated with hair braiding. All jokes aside, she did a great job, and I will definitely use of her services in the near future.

In other news, I think I'm becoming slightly hair-obsessed. I was a little too excited to find Yes to carrots conditionner at Pharmaprix.

Q: What is your relationship with your hairdresser? Men, feel free to chime in!

Cultural appropriation

2010-12-05T13:20:00.000-08:00

photo credit: TheFrisky.com

Cultural appropriation:"the adoption of some specific elements of one culture by a different cultural group."

Katia of Monochromaticstyle asked me what I thought about cultural appropriation, and randomly, I stumbled upon this picture. These two people are sporting what is called a reverse perm or colloquially, the Asian Afro. Apparently, this style is quite popular amongst Korean and Japanese young adults.

My thoughts:

First of all, I hope their hairstylist told them that tightly coiled hair requires moisture since, due to the spirals, sebum does not travel easily through the hair shaft. Secondly, I believe it is no different than Black women wearing straight blond weaves. Thirdly, I do think that it is perceived differently since it is an aspect of a minority group's culture that is being appropriated.

In other news, here is an unclear picture of me yesterday at 3:45am after I undid my braids. Yes, there is a golfing bear on my sweater. Their hair is noticeably more fro-ed out than mine is!

What are your thoughts on the Asian 'Fro?

Cravings and funny stories

2010-11-29T20:18:00.001-08:00

Photo taken at the Chinese lantern exposition. Here's to trying new things:)

PS: It has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but it's oh so pretty.

It's odd how when you know you can't have something that's exactly what you want. For supper, I ate a consistent bowl of boileen, a stew with huge chunks of dumplings, drumsticks, potatoes and lentils. I was satisfied. But now shortly after, I am quite hungry. I am sure it is so because I have to fast for 12 hours for my blood tests tomorrow, and my body is craving what it knows I cannot give her. I've postponed these tests because I've simply been too lazy to wake up early in the morning to go out of my way and wait in my least favorite of places (i.e a hospital). I've procrastinated because this stomach ordeal is turning into a never ending saga, and I've come to the pessimistic [perhaps overly dramatic] realization that my doctors really don't care about my health. At the risk of ranting, I won't elaborate.

Here are two funny stories that have me chuckling to myself at the mere recollection of them.

First of all, I take my dreams into reality. As in, when I'm dreaming that I'm hitting someone, I actually wake up flinging my arms in the air and more often than not hitting the person beside me.

Story 1. Two summers ago, I had a dream that my mom was attacking me [I often have dreams that the people I love attack me]. She was scratching my hand, so I pulled it away violently. I woke up to my aunt, who was reading beside me, screaming since I had whacked her quite hard on the bottom. We had many giggles over this later.

Story 2. Recently, I had a dream that Wanda Sykes, the comedian/actress, lunged at me to bite my hand. So I bit her back. The pain evidently woke me up. I opened my eyes and still had my hand locked between my teeth. It hurt like hell, and I had the bite marks to prove it.

One drop of Black blood

2010-11-23T07:58:00.000-08:00

I've just finished reading Isabel Allende's "Island Beneath the Sea", and it was breathtaking. As you flip through the pages, you are immersed into Santo-Domingo, now Haiti, and feel the scarce moments of joy the slaves felt as they danced to the sound of drums with their babies tied to their backs; you can almost feel the sweat dropping off their brow as they fearfully waited for their kin to be sold and separated from them; and you might even get angry as a planter mistreated their unpaid employees with whips, chains and other harmful objects.This novel also explores how the masters would rape their female servants and engender biracial offspring whom could later be scorned by the rapist's wife.

This culture of rape [the White masters found the Black women extra alluring due to their curves and the fact that they wouldn't need to show them an ounce of respect] created shade levels in the Black community. The ones they called "mulatto" of a White father and a Black mother were considered better than the darker skinned workers; the "quadroons" of a "mulatta" mother and a White father, in other words, 1/4 Black, were far better than the other Negroes. However, whether "quadroon" or "mulatto", you were still inferior to Caucasians and could be used as a slave.

Many quadroons do not have [stereo]typical African features: kinky hair, full lips, varying shades of brown to blueish black skin. Many of them, upon seeing them, do not hint at any African ancestry.

Eartha Kitt, of Native-American and Black ancestry, and her daughter (right) and grand-daughter(left)

However, the laws that governed the Blacks were also applicable to them. For example, they could not wear elaborate clothes or fancy jewelery-they could be whipped for said transgression. Many quadroon women, when emancipated, would choose to be placed under the protection of a White man, placage they would call it. As in, she would be kind of like his mistress while he could marry. He would place her in a beautiful house, take care of her expenses and they'd have more kids in order to assure that the quadroon in question keeps her social standing by having White and/or White looking children. Quadroons were the envy of White women. Although many could pass as Caucasian [if they had curly hair,they would straighten it, and oftentimes bleach their skin], they possessed, according to Caucasian men, the curves, the seductiveness of Negro women and were a constant reminder to the White women of the weakness their husband's could have for such inferior beings. It is obvious that quadroons have more White ancestry, but that one drop rule rendered them Black.

If someone who is 1/4 Black were to tell me that he or she feels closer to their Black roots, I do not see a problem with that. Race is afterall a social construct; it is their prerogative to associate themselves to the ethnic group of their choice. Growing up, I had a neighbor/best friend with long wavy red hair and freckles. Actually, she looked Irish, but her mother was biracial (Black and White). Back then, I referred to her as Black regardless of the color of her skin since the smell of ox-tail lingered in her kitchen, she would get spanked when she misbehaved and all of her relatives that I met were Black. Yes, in my childhood mind, that was all it took to liken her to myself. In the 19th century, however, many quadroons, although they may secretly have been proud of all of their roots, chose to cling to their Whiteness since their social and economical well-being depended on it.

Genetics are really tricky. Any of us could have a White or Black ancestor somewhere along the line without us even knowing it. I know my great-grand father may have been part German due to the effects of colonization (it was all kept on the hush-hush since it is more likely than not a result of rape).

I leave you all with this youtube video.

Mini vacay!

2010-11-13T17:39:00.000-08:00

Vince Camuto shoes (I love these guys despite the pain they cause to my ankles); H&M Pants; Knowledge is sexy t-shirt (Montrealers do contact me if you want to purchase a t-shirt and support HIV/AIDS organizations); cardigan from I don't know where

Those of you who are familiar with my humble abode probably recognize this backdrop! Indeed, I am in Atlanta visiting my dad and getting some much needed hair products.

In other news, I discovered the MopTop Maven blog, and I must say I am hooked. Inspired by this belle's skin care regimen, I've decided to try out the oil method since I am not fully satisfied with my post-accutane face. I just may become a product junkie when it comes to my hair, so I've decided to keep my skin care quite simple [and cheap].

I leave ATL on monday, and it was a short and sweet getaway from frosty weather, penny pinching and public transportation. I really love Atlanta; the weather alone is such a breath of fresh air-I roamed about town in the outfit above without the need of a jacket. I love Montreal, but I'm not quite sure if I will make my life here as our winters are excruciatingly long. Only God knows where life will take me, but I intend on doing a lot of travelling in the near future.

P.S. I really want to redesign my blog, and I've been looking to pay someone to do so. If any of you know anyone that is up for it, do tell!

Blessings,

Mama.

all the bad names people may call you are lies.

2010-11-05T08:56:00.000-07:00

As many focus groups and organizations regroup to sensitize teachers to and prevent bullying, I am left to ponder and analyze [as I normally do] the people around me who were bullied in their high school years.

As I think about both women, one in the online world, and one who practically was my neighbor, their overt "I don't give a fuck about what other's think about me" and overly defensive attitude stand out like a sore thumb. Now, the former is much more healthy than the latter, but a synergy of the two is irksome to say the least. At the slight criticism or even when they are met with a difference of opinion, these women [whom might I add are otherwise very creative and intelligent human beings]blow up, gnaw and nibble at your head and spit out whichever chunks they were able to tear off for everyone in the room's viewing pleasure. I was once on the receiving end of this ludicrously explosive show of anger. I stood there incredulous at first, wondering why this so called friend of mine was acting like such a moron. Moments later, I stooped to her level and matched her screeching with the power of my musically trained lungs.

Bullying is wrong; that goes without saying. It leads to depression, suicide, cutting, shootings, and could potentially transform once calm-spirited individuals into ticking time bombs. Granted and thankfully so, many people come out from being bullied and become well-rounded people. I could be wrong, but I think being pushed around in their younger years has made aforementioned women develop a defense-mechanism in order to stave off being stomped on . As in once, they feel threatened, they respond by making more noise than their supposed threatener and pushing said perpetrator into a corner. It is human nature, after all.

In elementary school, I befriended two boys and a girl who were picked on by practically every one in our class. One boy was slightly annoying I'll admit to that, but one day he came into class and was met by an explosion of laughter as peers pointed and moked his new hair cut. I stood up and told every one to leave him alone [my nickname"defender of the universe" did not sprout from the abyss]. I remember, the round face jet-black haired boy in my class, whom every one disliked for reasons I do not even know. I played with him once at recess. At that point, I didn't have many friends myself since I was the new [black] girl in my class. But no one picked on me, they just didn't talk to me as of yet. I contemplated bringing him my football so we could play together [or maybe I did bring it, memory fails me]. Either way, it didn't matter because I found out that he had changed schools. In the 4th grade, I had a crush on some guy with blond hair, an unhealthy-looking bony face and a terrible attitude [I guess I've always had questionable taste up until now, of course]. He told the first person who talked to me in class-a an already sickly girl who adored reading- that he wished that she would die of HIV, cancer and a bunch of other diseases. Needless to say, I completely loathed him at the moment he uttered those words. I despised him even more when she indeed came down with cancer. A part of me believed that his negative energy caused a large lump to form in her throat- she had showed it to me in class before her diagnosis. As I ran my fingers on every crevice that made up the irregular formation, I hadn't a clue that it could actually kill her. Thankfully, after having lost all her hair, which she dyed in rainbow colors before they came out in chunks, she survived.

I have now lost contact with her, along with the two other guys in my class. I am not too sure if they have now embodied a whole "dog eat dog" view of the world. But, I certainly hope not. As I write this, I realize how lucky I am. Sure, I was made fun of. In fact, a whole table in one of my classes in highschool, flipped through pages in some magazine and kindly pointed out every monkey I supposedly looked like, and laughed on as if I wasn't in the room. But, I had many friends, and although I felt ugly for perhaps the whole night, I woke up the next morning knowing they were assholes, and not I. People can be so damn awful to one another, and I cannot play saint because I would practically run away from this one girl in elementary school who I found to be clingy and annoying. I regret it to this day; I did not treat her as she deserved.

Now to completely switch the tone of this post, I will start an "I am not a monkey" campaign using these mirror self-portraits, which scream [outside from the faint aroma of vanity it clearly exudes and my poor photography skills] that all the terrible names people hurl at you are lies.

NB. Pose # 2 is definitively more high-fashion [don't be fooled by the cell phone blocking my mouth] than it is monkey.

Our princess boy: on bending gender roles

2010-10-26T21:27:00.000-07:00

Last night, I had the privilege of viewing a clip about a 5 year-old boy named Dustin who loves to dress up in princess garb. First of all, Dustin is adorable; not only does his voice exude innocence, he is creative, and he just might become a stylist or a designer when he grows up. As I watched the video, the term “gender identity disorder” popped into my mind. Why is that? Why can’t a boy adorn himself in lavish jewels, flower scented perfume and pretty apparel without being linked to the feminine gender?

We have been conditioned to view all things as being categorizable into two oftentimes mutually exclusive binaries: the masculine and the feminine. I remember loving pink when I was younger. Then, I decided that pink was far too girly for a tough chick like me. I climbed fences; played with my brothers; in the final years of elementary school, mostly wore jeans paired with my favorite green vest; and in the safe confines of my home, belched very loudly more so than my sister, who liked to keep matters of gas a private affair, ever did. Thus, black was in and pink was out. However, once I realized that black isn’t considered to be a color, but rather the absence of the latter, I had to reassess my taste. Baby blue was now the shade my heart longed for. To this day, I do not know where my apprehension for being seen as a girl-girl stemmed from, but it definitely was not for want of being a boy.

In my humble opinion, I do not think that Dustin wants to be a girl. Would he not have been as vocal about his true self as he was about his preference in clothing and accessories? It could also be that he has not yet come to that realization. However, I think he simply is drawn to all things glittery and pretty similar to how I would prefer bananas to a chocolate bar any day. It is my preference. Granted, society has a lot more to say about bending gender norms, then preferring healthier food to those heavy-laden with saturated fats and unnatural ingredients.

Some people may assume that this young boy is showing tell-tale signs of homosexual orientation by preferring dresses to ninja costumes. I disagree. What the general public would describe as feminine when personified in a male person does not necessarily come with same-sex desire. There are many heterosexual cross-dressers. Dustin may like to drape his body in gorgeous materials now, but like me, his taste may shift as time goes by. Even if it isn't a temporary preference, he has a great family that will help him deal with all the obstacles that he may encounter in life. I am really proud of his family for embracing who he is. I do not think concepts of “race” lace every issue, but I think in this case it is worth mentioning that the father is a Black man, and he sees no problem with the way his son dresses--commendable. Generally speaking, Black communities worldwide are yet to embrace homosexuals and men who do not fit the mold of strong Black masculinity.

Although I am a bit uncomfortable Dustin being talked about as if he weren't there, I am glad I stumbled upon this video.

What are your thoughts on the issue?

Life can be bright if you ignore the clouds

2010-10-24T20:11:00.000-07:00

People's liberation cardigan, (bows her head in shame) Ardene top, Vince Camuto shoes, Forever 21 leggings

Photo by Camille Nerant

A sure remedy to conquer unemployment woes (I quit my job 3 weeks ago) is to put more effort in your dress. This past week I put an extra thought in styling my hair; went to the gym wearing 4 inch wedges and adorned my lips with my favorite shade of red. As ludicrous as that may sound-to dress up only to run around like a chicken with no head about the gym dragging two 45 pound plates (I get trained by my slave driver of a boyfriend), I took pleasure in looking like I had somewhere important to go.

The job search is still on, and although I could bore you with a rant on how I miss writing academic essays, I’ve decided to see my unemployment as a blessing in disguise. For one, not waking up before the crack of dawn and having to sleep at the same time as would an 8 year-old has given me more time to concentrate on my writing. I have delved back into my book, and have once again fallen in love with the characters I have carefully sculpted into existence if only in print. I can also concentrate on my health, which much to my dismay involved far too many trips to hospitals and clinics, uncomfortable exams, one of which involved a long plastic instrument violating my tender behind-the worst physical pain I am yet to experience, and lying in bed praying I’d wake up to see the next day. I took the decision not to be afraid. So I won’t. I much rather spend that extra time screen shopping on Nastygal.

P.S. I will be sure to keep you posted on my progress.

Black Marriage Negotiations

2010-10-17T09:09:00.000-07:00

What do you think about this video?

Why are 70% of Black women in America single?

Why is their singlehood such a big issue?

Spanking

2010-10-13T15:39:00.000-07:00

I wrote a post for M.I.S.S. about corporal punishment in regards to its portrayal in the TV show “Good Times”. I do not think spanking your child is morally wrong, nor does it consist in a form of sexual abuse. However, there are limits that parents must not cross; you cannot leave bruises and welts on your child. Having your child covered in marks should make any parent feel uncomfortable.

Last Saturday, a 13 year-old girl was slapped by her 71 year-old father in Longueil, and succumbed to her injuries. Witnesses have said that the father regularly hit his children. One witness even said that as the policemen were leading him out of the house in handcuffs, he flahsed his pearly whites as if he had won a grand prize when really he had lost the flesh of his flesh. I’m not placing too much weight on that particular comment, because in times of great stress people oftentimes unwillingly exaggerate the truth. I remember in 2006, during the shooting in my school, rumor had it that there were at least 3 gunmen, while there was really just one.

What the father admitted to inflicting upon his daughter does not constitute spanking. The ratonale behind spanking is for the child to associate physical pain to the actions he or she is not supposed to do, or instill in them the notion of cause and effect. It is easy for me to judge behind this screen, but should hitting your child due to her reluctance to pray teach your daughter that pain follows when you refuse to bow down? I highly doubt that this supposed slap (Does anyone else find it weird that a child without any preexistent conditions should die from just one slap?) was meant to shape her character into a God-fearing young women. More so, I think he hit his child as a result of an argument, in which he could not or chose not to control his temper. Religion and its practice should be a personal decision. I would assume that it is frustrating when your child or even your spouse does not nurture their spirituality as you feel somewhat responsible for them. However, killing your child as a result of her not wanting to follow her religion wholeheartedly (they are a Muslim family) actually disservices the God that you claim to worship. Granted my mother would sometimes get upset at my little brother when he would tie his face when it came time to go to church. However, to my recollection, he was never punished for it.

A child’s life is seen in too many cultures as expendable. I read a feature in a magazine about unwanted Chinese baby girls who were thrown into the streets; in several parts in Africa, children are given away to be raised by distant relatives or even acquaintances who oftentimes treat those said children as maids/servants; child soldiers are given as first task to kill their relatives; and far too many children are abused in day care. The abuse needs to stop. But will it?

In keeping with the theme of protecting and appreciating our children, please visit Jessica’s Treasure’s in order to send her your good thoughts and prayers for her son who has been diagnosed with a fatal disease.

The social experiment

2010-10-10T18:19:00.000-07:00

I've learned that I would make a very poor scientist. I did the hair treatment, and although it left my hair noticeably softer and my curls more defined, it also left coconut flakes in my hair. I didn’t melt the coconut cream properly, hence the tropical smelling snow flakes in my hair. I haven’t worn my hair curly in possibly a year, and this simple act of not submitting my hair to heat brought back some realities to my attention. For one, a lot of Black women [in Montreal] do not like my hair this way. The majority of the comments I get from them concerning my coils is on how nice my hair would look if I straightened them out. A cashier today looked at my hair and asked, "do you put a relaxer in sometimes?" Another women last year said my hair was nice, then whispered to her friends, "if I did something to it, id be nicer" Then came the giggles. Today, my doctor who was White looked at my hair and told me how much he liked it, which left me to wonder: "Do only White Montrealers like the natural look?" Obviously not. But, it is in my experience that they look at my hair with intrigue rather than with an eye of critique.

The culture here differs from the one in the States. For one, Black women do not have as many options as their sisters in the States concerning their hair. As in, we don’t have as many hair salons that can do "Black" hair and we have access to far less products. We have to order our Carol’s Daughter online, google search for good products, and when we are finally fed up of spending a pretty penny on shampoos that dry out our hair and conditioners that leave our hair in knots, we resort to putting yogurt in our hair or other such natural concoctions, which as it turns out, isn't a bad thing at all.

I've realized that all my hair really needs is moisture; I'm considering never perming it again. During the winter, I'll braid my hair and let it grow. I have come to the realization that when I was younger and my mom would only put heat in my hair once a month or every two months, my hair grew like weeds. So, my plan is to skip the flat iron and experiment with braid hairstyles to protect them from the harsh weather. I'm excited.

My hairstory

2010-10-02T17:11:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, I absolutely hated my hair. I didn’t care that it was long and thick; all I cared about was the fact that it hurt when my mother styled it, to the point where she had to give me with candy so my tongue would be too distracted by the sweetness to allow me to scream. I remember she would tell me to hold heart, and I would hold my fists together and hope that the pain would be over soon. My mom first chemically treated my hair when I was 8 years old. She didn’t put my entire head under the creamy crack regime; she only treated the roots for the minimum time to make it a bit easier to comb. I’ve never had my hair completely relaxed, and I only do it once or twice a year, which is why I can still sport my curly hair, and is also the reason why I believe it has remained healthy over the years.

In high school, I would always tie my hair in a bun because to me, my hair was too puffy and had much too many products in it to be left to its own devices. One day, in gym class, I let my hair out to restyle it in a bun- at that time, I think it reached down to where my buttocks began- and I heard some girls say, "wow, you’re hair is really nice; you should always wear it like that." So, I did for maybe a couple of days, and then I went back to the bun. It was my comfort zone, although my hair was too thick for it to actually look nice styled like that, I just accepted the fact that I’d never have pretty hair. Prom day, I went to the salon for the first time, had my hair straightened, and I loved it. When my friends saw me they were surprised to say the least, and a guy who up to that point had always picked fights with me, gasped and said, "You’re pretty". I remember thinking, "yeah….now you think I’m pretty…douche."

I kept wearing it straight. I loved curls on other people, but to me my hair wasn’t curly; it was a hot mess of frizz. On day, tired of the pain associated with straightening my hair and encouraged by my mother, I decided to embrace my hair the way my genetic makeup had intended it to be. I washed it; put conditioner; braided it wet; and went to bed. I woke up and unraveled my experiment and my hair was huge. I was excited. No more pain, no more coping with intense heat—freedom. I wore it so, without perming it for around a year. But then, I got bored. So, I went back to straightening my hair with a flat iron, and going to the salon. Being slapped back into the reality of the world of pain I had left behind, I decided to perm my roots again just so it wouldn’t tangle as easily. Mind you, perming my hair used to be quite an experience when I was younger. As my mother, separated section by section, I would wince, and when it came time to wash out the perm in the shower, I would close my eyes super tight and pray to God that I’d be able to see when it was over. Then, I would thank God and be so happy when I would open my eyes and still be able to see as relaxer contains chemicals that can blind you if they enter the eye. I’d tell myself that the worst part was over.

Now, I’m rocking some cornrows, and although I love my hair in its natural state, I’m looking for something that will make it easier to comb. Unfortunately, sometimes my hair is my own along with every hairdresser I’ve ever met’s worst nightmare. My hair tangles easily, but it goes without saying that now, I love it despite its flaws. I’m not a big fan of the perm, so I think once I take out my braids I’ll do the caramel treatment. I’ll be sure to post pictures of this experiment.

Regret

2010-09-14T19:03:00.000-07:00

I googled "regret" and found this beautiful painting on a blog called Fengshuilogy

They say one should never have any regrets. But, in this life, it is inevitable. To every action, there is a consequence, and sometimes those consequences are undesirable, unforseen and can leave irreparable damages or at the least a sour taste in your mouth. The general “they” also say that everything happens for a reason, but some situations sprout from ill-judgment, and you simply learn not to dip your hand in boiling water ever again. But then you tell yourself, “There are other ways I could have learned that hot water burns; I didn’t have to go through the pain and the blisters.” That is the way I feel about a couple of things in my life.

School

I am saddened that I took a year off school thinking/hoping I would find a job in my field, work full-time and gain experience. I still haven’t found one yet, and it’s not for lack of trying. I have sent innumerable resumes, yet I am still at that wretched job that I hate. To put this as dramatically as possible, every morning at 5:10 am sharp, as I wake up to head to work, a little bit of my spirit disintegrates and plummets into an abyss where idle minds go to die. Having a crappy job in addition with not being in school is a recipe for dejection. Instead of appreciating the fact that I’ve completed my undergrad, I’m stuck onthe fact that every morning I put on a hat and an apron and make someone else richer, someone who doesn’t even remember my name.

Relationship

I regret dating him (I’m not talking about Joel;). I regret the fact, that although I found out that he had embarked on the relationship harboring a lie, I still decided to give him a chance on account of his “late” honesty. He ended the relationship telling me that the difference between us, the huge part of himself that he had hid from me in the first place, was part of the reason we did not work. I resent that in the end, he couldn’t be frank enough simply to say the uncomfortable words: “no, I don’t love you”. Instead he gave me some modern day “it’s not me, it’s you” as if I were still a suckling at my mother’s breast. He believes that I bought all his nonsense without any change to spare, whereas I know better. He lied to me about so many things, which he thoughtfully revealed to me in an email. The whole break-up, mind you, took place over the phone and via the internet. All the love I thought I had for him melted away once the fact that he viewed me as being of much lesser value than his comfort crystallized.

I could consider this experience as a reference point. With Joel, it’s different. We fight; I tell him when he pisses me off. I never fought with ex. I was upset about a few things, and so was he, but we both kept it to ourselves. I chose to get over it on my own, whereas he bottled up his grapes and turned them into bitter wine. I learned that love, the real thing, should never be assumed, but words should be coupled with action. I learned that love does not make excuses and is not jealous; that I should choose my battles and voice my discontent. I now have a concrete understanding that I deserve and now have better; that I can deal with unrequited love, but not so much with deception; that every one has issues, some are more conflicted by them than others; that I am not a psychologist and therefore, it’s not my responsibility, nor am I qualified to make excuses and attempt to justify another’s behavior. Compassion is a must; ignorance is defined as a lack of knowledge. Knowledge is sexy, and I don’t wear that adage across my chest to be described as anything but. All jokes aside, there are no worries; I don’t think about this past situation all the time. However, due to my current job-related unhappiness, I, as I normally do when an aspect of my life is in disorder, think about everything else that has irked me.

My stomach's woes

2010-09-06T11:51:00.000-07:00

Credit: Winterwheat
Yumm...smoothies. Today's supper.

My stomach is in pain. I have a certain intolerance to something that I have yet to pin-point. According to my mother, wheat is the culprit. It might also be complex-carbohydrates, in other words, all my favorite foods. I will go see a doctor to be sure, but for today, I havent a clue what to eat. I think ill make myself another banana soy milk/tropical juice smoothie. You guys should try it. Just throw a banana into a blender, add in some soy milk and tropical passion juice by Oasis and VOILA! I cannot give you the exact measurements since I cook by experimentation. I buy whichever ingredients strikes my fancy, google search to see whether there are recipes in existence combining those same ones, and just throw them all together, add some spices here and there and gobble up the end result.

But back to my stomach discomfort, it's been going on for almost a year. Bloating and other unmentionables...the reason why I haven't seeked help is because I would fluctuate from bad to good then back to bad, and I was so occupied that I didn't make anything of it. I'm afraid I will have to say goodbye to peanuts, because this, I am sure, upsets my stomach like no woman or man's business. Chickpeas and other beans, bread, pasta are all on the blacklist for now. I'm keeping a food diary so I can see what is making my stomach, and me by association, so unhappy. Today, I had spaghetti and meat sauce, my delectable smoothie, bananas-I grabbed a handful of peanuts, but then put it back into the bag as I'm supposed to know better- and an avocado. My stomach threw a fit upon the ingestion of the pasta; I've learned a valuable lesson.

Here's to hoping the rest of my day runs a bit more smoothly.

The Kalahari

2010-08-29T17:54:00.000-07:00

Characters in the God's Must Be Crazy II

Beauty is often equated to looking like the furthest thing from "too african" according to the media. Too african would mean large nose, dark skin and uncombable hair. Fanon was of the opinion that the Black individual measures himself according to his proximity to Caucasians, which is why, as he would have called it, we have many socially/mentally challenged individuals in the Black community who disdain their African heritage. In Black Skins, White Masks, he writes that in Casablanca "Antillean soldiers wore a distinguished beret in the hope of being treated better than the despised African soldiers [...] The Antilleans found that, without their berets, they were treated as wild savages, and with them, as domesticated servants (p.27). Antilleans were seen as superior; the erasure, except for traces in patois and creole, of African languages, among other things, gave them that "edge" over their African counterparts.

The actors I used to illustrate the post live/lived in the deep dessert of the Kalahari, in southern regions of Africa. Many people call them "bushmen" as they live in the bush away from modern technology, are attuned with nature and hunt and gather food for sustenance. I've heard from several mouths that people from the deep bush [due tot their "lack" of White influence] could obviously not be beautiful in the least. I'll let the picture speak for itself; this particular scene had me in tears (of joy, of course).

Question: Would you rather live as you are now with all the technology you can afford, or without any of it? You would have no knowledge that it even exists, hunt and plant food and live a true "simple life".

The dream

2010-08-23T08:09:00.000-07:00

Sea of Dreams by Kevin Thom

Months ago, I had this “dream”; I use quotation marks because it was so vivid that the thought of it still puzzles me to this day. However, I have come to see it as a sign as it was with Joseph in biblical times. I think God was sending me a message laden with the potency of an ox.

The "dream":

I had just woken up, and I was still lying on my bed. Suddenly I began to hear Joel’s voice loud and clear. I could also discern the sounds of an upcoming train. At this point, my eyes were open and I heard him say: “Talk to your mother”. He kept on repeating it as I got frightened that I was hearing voices since I knew that I was not asleep. I reached for my cell phone to see if he was on the line, and thus explain the voice, but my cell phone was closed. I prayed, “God, don’t tell me I’m going crazy”. And his voice stopped. Needless to say, I was really disturbed. However, I mustered enough composure to get up and check up on my mother. I figured maybe the dream was telling me that something was wrong with her. She was sound asleep, so I woke her up just to make sure she was alive and just sleeping…and not another dreaded state.

My mother and I were never close. Well, we were in my childhood; I have the distinct memory of my germophobe self being afraid of my older brother who had chicken pox and sighing of relief when my mother had come home from work [of course, she would protect me]. As a teenager, we would fight sometimes, since I was a bit absent-minded and while cooking rice, for example, I would forget it on the stove, thus rendering all the pots in the house black-bottomed. As an adult, we don’t fight, but we were/are not as close as her and my sister are. They go out together, watch TV together, spend hours talking whereas our relationship had not reached that friendship level. During the holidays, after the whole breakup situation, I realized how great and non-judgmental my mother is. But the determining factor that made me want to make an effort to cultivate a better relationship with her was her meeting Joel.

Joel and my mother clicked instantly upon meeting eachother. He calls her to see how she’s doing, they speak about God and the Bible, he stops by randomly before going to work to say hello and she sees him as another son. One day, he told me, “You really need to talk to your mother more, because she has a lot to say” [just like he did in the “dream”]. He also continued to tell me that mothers are important and that he's learning so much from her. My mom and I are still not at the BFF stage, but we do talk a lot more. Seeing her through his eyes was not hard at all once I got over the notion that "we will never be close." My mother is very knowledgeable about a myriad of topics. I owe my faith to her; we share that in common. As she’s studying to become a rabbi, she gives Joel and I quizzes on the Old Testament. Now, I love being at home, simply because I know she's there, even when she's in her room and I'm busy on the computer in another.

I'm just really glad that I appreciate her much more now. Life is so unpredictable, we must keep our loved ones close at all times.

they are swept under the rug

2010-08-09T18:19:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, a man approached me in the metro proclaiming what he thought to be my beauty. In the middle of my “thank you”, he added that he wanted to lick my nipples and that I would like it very much. His disgusting remark made me turn away as rapidly as I possibly could. A few weeks before that, waiting for the bus, an older man approached me and said I was pretty while also licking his lips like a possessed reptile and staring at my chest. It’s easy for me to brand these men as perverts, but the thing is I am certain that sanity is definitely more than an arm-stretch away. I cannot therefore fault them for something they have no control over, right?

That’s the conundrum; we all are threaded together by a history packed with variant degrees of happiness, sorrow, disappointments and sickness. The cow of a boss you have might have been molested as a child and thus angry at the seeming unfairness of the world, your nagging mother may be bitter that she didn’t have as many opportunities as you do and therefore expects so much more out of your life and that guy across the street that always stares at you may have a mental illness that makes his obsession for you totally normal in his eye.

Mental illnesses/disorders are scantily grasped by the general population. Many of our homeless in Montreal are in fact suffering from a mental incapacity that has left them without family and on the street. The light-skinned man with kinky hair smoking crack out of an empty pen you see in the metro, you make a mental note not to give him any money. You hurry quickly past him because his instability frightens you; you fear he may push you in front of an upcoming train. The man yelling at the top of his lungs as he walks from one end to the other of the pathway, you shake your head and hurry home. The older man with jet black curls that bounce up and down as he laughs for an unknown reason somehow irks you because his nails are covered in soot and his odor is unbearable. You sigh at the sight of the skin & bones man with one arm who never wears shirts and who sees you eating a banana one day and calls you a monkey. The next day, as he sees you buying more bananas, he calls you by the same name. These are all things I’ve experienced. It is so easy to see them as the enemy because indeed they may hurt you. Their concept of right and wrong has been turned upside-down like the newborn baby of yesteryear on the brink of being slapped. Granted, some people have substance addiction, which could also affect their sanity. However, according to the National Mental Health Information Center, 39% of homeless people report some form of mental health problem, while 20-25% are considered to have serious mental illness.

I cannot even fathom what it must be like to be born without any mental deficiencies, and then find yourself slowly slipping into a state where things do not make as much sense anymore. I know someone who is bipolar, and I remember her showing my family and I all the different medications she has to take. Sometimes, she is more functional than others. She was a teacher and made a good income. Now, she isn’t working and her sons act as if she were a giant cold sore. Although they are, in my opinion, acting as ungrateful sons (they are all successful and benefitted from the best education courtesy of their mother), they manage her money, and she lives quite comfortably (not with any of them, of course). Not to mention, she is Jewish; from what I can tell, Jewish people support one another, so she never goes without. People who do not have that sense of support, more often than not end up on the street. Maybe they’ll pick up an addiction to drown the voices they may hear or simply to forget that they are indeed alone.

Through this post, I am trying to sympathize with people who oftentimes scare the living daylights out of me with their rude comments, inappropriate looks and screeches. No, knowing they have a problem, doesn't make the harassment acceptable, but we can understand where it's coming from, I guess. And again, we all have a story, afterall.

*P.S. I am not saying that everyone suffering from a mental illness is aggressive and rude, I am just reporting my experiences thus far.

The importance of soap and water

2010-07-18T23:18:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: This is a graphic account on how my bowel movements led me to think about much bigger issues.

Source: DGDweller

Yesterday, I spent the day in Browns Bay, Thousand Island. When Joel told me about the Vincentian homecoming I had figured it would be near a mall of some sort; it really didn’t click in my mind that it was an outdoors festival. As I neared the large park, I was swept away by a sense of fear as there was a rock in my stomach that needed to be expelled.

Fear became reality when I saw the out-houses and the hoard of people waiting in front of them. I knew my day would be miserable if I didn’t use the toilet, so I stood in line. People came out of the bathroom and ran out with their faces contorted due to the putrid stench emanating from the accumulated waste. I took a deep breathe and dove in while giving myself a good prep talk. “Just do it, Mama, just do it” was my Nike inspired mantra, but it did not help. Once I looked down and saw a red substance in the hole, I quickly ran out.

I am no princess and I wasn’t born with any silver cutlery in my mouth, but there are certain fundamental necessities that I cannot go without: soap and water. Luckily, in that out-house, there was a single bottle of soap (but no water), so I took a few pumps before I left. Joel then poured some water on my hands, so I could wash them clean. I told him, “I couldn’t use that washroom…I couldn’t.” He shook his head at me and told me I was torturing myself. My response/monologue was: “You don’t understand! The hole wasn’t deep enough; I could see everything. I didn’t want anything to fly up on me as I squatted. Do you have any idea what diseases lie in fecal matter…plus there was blood.”

I spent the whole day needing to do #2, and soon my bladder became full as well. In the bus, on our way home, as in 9 hours later, I gave in and used the washroom, which translates into stepping into a pool of pee as I tried [and failed] at not touching the four corners of the small room, dealing with the light switch that sporadically switched on & off leaving me in utter darkness, and having no soap nor water.

This [goose bump inducing] experience made me think about the 3 billion plus people who live on less than 2.50$ a day and who evidently do not have access to clean water no less soap. 1.8 billion people in this world, who at least have access to a water source within 1 km away from home, consume around 20 liters per day, whereas in the U.K, 50 liters a day per person goes towards flushing toilets. Close to half of all people in “developing countries” incur a health problem caused by water and sanitation deficits. As for children, 1.4 million die each year because potable water is scarce and sanitation is amiss. (Global Issues)

My discomfort only lasted a day; I cannot even imagine living under such conditions on a regular basis, and more importantly not benefitting from adequate health services. Did you know that 706 million people in South Asia and 547 million in Sub-Saharan Africa live without electricity?

I do not just want to throw stats your way for us to realize how truly fortunate we all are even to have the use of the internet, which connects us all. Rather, this blog post should serve as an invitation to meditate on how exactly we could improve the water and health services deficit many poor countries face. Africa is suffering from brain drain, as in, many Africans study abroad and do not return with their professional skills to contribute to the furthering of their country. Furthermore, African Universities are training 1/3 students to work abroad. I cannot look at them as “sell-outs” as they would get paid more overseas, and it’s pretty discouraging to know that foreigners working in Africa are paid more than Africans themselves to do the same type work.

I did not study health, science or economy, so I would not be of aid in those sectors, but I could use my writing to expound on certain issues in mainstream media. I would extol the colors and life that exists in that vast continent and also bring to the forefront untold stories or simply stories that are not told enough. We could donate, but that could feel like an empty act, as we donate and can easily go on about our daily lives. “Knowledge is sexy” is an attempt to help trustworthy organizations in the HIV/AIDS field and create an awareness in Montreal. So far, many have purchased the T-shirts, and I truly hope that every time they wear it, their brain waves become tuned to safe sex & HIV/AIDS in their home and abroad. The teaching position in Africa, I did not get it unfortunately, but I am sure there are many more ways I could be of service. Africa has the means to help itself, I just think we are dealing with a case of mismanagement [as in greedy politicians pocketing the money that should be used on the people, selling their land to other countries], poor distribution of wealth, and the impact of colonialism that still remains (etc.)

And that is how an outing in a park made me think about health and sanitation issues in poorer countries.

Good times

2010-07-03T23:06:00.000-07:00

Church apparel

The weather today was splendid. I walked around town, watched a movie and now I'm comfortable in my pjs preparing for bed. As that burning sensation in my eye balls is creeping in like a herd of ants on a piece of sugar, I bid you all a good night.

I would like to share this picture with you all since, amidst the stream of non-photogenic[ness] portrayed in an arm full of photos, this one stood out of the pack.

Yours truly,
Mama.

Culture shock

2010-06-27T22:49:00.000-07:00

Oversized shirt: Little brother
Shorts: Sirens
Sandals: either Marshalls or TJ Maxx
Guy in red: the boyfriend

I was never an aficionada of shorts; as a child I hated my bow-legged chubby legs. My older brother would call me jiggly cuisse as a constant reminder that my legs were not up to par. Recently, I looked at myself in the mirror and had an epiphany that my legs were not that bad at all. I too could wear shorts carefree [except for the extra creepy male attention that irrevocably makes me cringe] as other women in Montreal do.

To my boyfriend, who recently immigrated from St-Vincent, showing that extra skin functions as a citizen card to hoeville or more so the appearance that you are among said group. He never calls me out of my name, but he did voice his concern while I was showing a lil’ shoulder that my choice of apparel was not decent to wear in public & that it was just his opinion, so obviously I could do as I pleased.

Silly me, I sculpted images in my mind of his home as a beautiful island filled with a plethora of different fruit trees, kids playing on the street & of course, women wearing bright bikini tops and shorts due to the tremendous heat. However, even in the humid Montreal summer heat, I still find Joel wearing long sleeves and pants, and the women back home are no different. The women that do show that extra skin are usually the "looser" women or rather those who don't keep their looseness under concealer. This dress code is not plastered in cement; during Carnival. many women adorn themselves in intricate costumes that usual show-off their stomach and legs regardless of their size.

I'm sure Joel will adapt to the way women dress here the same way I soak up images he paints for me of dark skies with visible stars, banana play fights, black sand & 50 pound weights which his cousin made out of brick. I point out women who are wearing those short shorts that ride uncomfortably under their rear and compare it to my mid-thigh shorts proudly and say, “see, I’m not that bad”. Always, he agrees & slowly but surely he’s getting used to the Montreal culture of less is more [it is afterall his first summer in the country]. Although, I am no patriot in regards to that way of dressing, I’m accepting my legs more and more and don’t mind them seeing a lil' sun and catching up to the deeper brown of my face.

Yours truly,
Mama.

Never again

2010-06-13T18:55:00.000-07:00

This is what my friend Leslie wore to a party last Saturday night. I, on the other hand , was dressed like a bum.

I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.

~Booker T. Washington

Black men are oftentimes profiled as thieves and no-good no bodies, and regretfully so. Those words in themselves are charged with centuries of hatred. To that list, you can throw in that they undoubtedly have more than one baby mama, “illegitimate” children as well as a criminal record. They are seen as smooth lovers with big d*icks to match, matcho, strong, but like a 10 inch pizza cannot feed a family. Do I really need to say that black men are not made in a factory with one common & broken mold?

Many [and I say many because I’ve heard this from various women] black women and women of other ethnicities date one black man or two, maybe even three and think they have a clear idea of what it means and represents to be a black man. It is understandable that after a traumatic experience, such as rape, the victim could possible develop fear towards men of the attacker’s race. But, I think that if a woman is getting one black man who falls under the category of a “no good nobody” after another, then there is probably something a bit off about her taste or the energy she is spouting out into the universe as opposed to the whole Black male population. If you unwaveringly go after the same type of [black] man, ultimately, you’ll be left with the same results: jaded and most definitely fired up with a lot of hate.

Granted, there are certain cultural constructions of which to bear in mind such as that of hyper-masculinity present in many African cultures and the diasporas as well as intense homophobia, which leads to men with same sex desire to engage in sexual acts with other men on the down-low while also having a wife/girlfriend.

James Louis "J.L." King, a national HIV/STD prevention educator who also once identified himself as being on the down low says,

“Men on the down low usually don’t use a condom, because it makes them stop and think of what they are doing. Many DL men don’t want to face the fact that they want to have sex with men. And most do it when they can get it. Many don’t carry condoms on them, especially if they are married."

Now, let's take a look at these facts:

AIDS is the no. 1 killer of black women between ages 24-35

Two-thirds (66%) of all new HIV infections are among African American Women
HIV/AIDS is the fourth leading cause of death for African American Women between 45-54
HIV/AIDS is at a crisis level in black communities in Canada
HIV.AIDS, while on the decline in white populations, is on the rise in Aboriginal and Black populations

These stats give a seemingly dismal view on Black male/female relationships in North-America. Do these numbers mean that if you date a Black man, you will undoubtedly get infected with HIV? These stats highlight important issues in our communities accross the Americas such as stigma, infidelity and poverty. What if someone gives me these statistics to prove to me that Black men are the source of all sorrow? What can I say, since these stats stem from real people, real issues? Although I believe that we are products of our environments, we can [and do] break free [hard, but possible] from the ideas that were spoon fed to us from childhood and the economic situation in which we may have been born into that may also restrict access to proper information.

My grandfather felt as if losing his job meant he was less than a man; he felt threatened that my grandmother was the one bringing in the money, thus wearing the proverbial pants. Consequently, his children [all girls] were neglected and abased because of their gender. Essentially, we all come with a story, and, needless to say, there is no inherently bad ethnic group. We are people, each with his or her whimsically drawn out [by fate, if you’d like] load to bear. My grandfather’s story doesn’t spell out to me “black men do not take care of their family”; rather it bespeaks a threatened masculinity that could exist in any paternalistic society.

The intent of this piece was surely not to excuse the behavior of black men who adhere to such stereotypes of leeches, but to highlight the fact that while everyone comes with a story, certain characteristics should not be overlooked and should be seen as bright red flags. Here are a few stereotypes associated with Black men that I think are indicators to give the man in question, regardless of his ethnic background, the boot.

Baby mama drama

Yes, his child is absolutely adorable, but the little also comes with a crazy mother who sees you as the threat to her already broken home. Now, there is nothing wrong with dating a man with kids, but if, before even being committed, you find out he has a crazy ex that also happened to bear his seed, do not take it as a challenge, get out of that situation immediately.

If he hasn't any goals

Some women will not date a man who hasn’t a College or University degree, and to each his or her own. To me, what's important is that a man has a plan and works towards it.

If he has been to prison [for serious charges] rape, murder, robbing a bank etc.

You decide if you can let jail time for unpaid parking tickets slide. I am definitely all for second chances, but don't think you can ever change another human being.

If he guilts you into sex without a condom

Hits you

I’ll leave this one at that, I’m no domestic abuse specialist, but from what I’ve witnessed, if he hits you once, he’ll hit you again.

Do not think that you are going to change any man. If you date someone that shows any of these signs, and it ends in heartbreak, please don’t form negative views on the whole population [I'm guessing that's easier said than done]. That’s actually racist and ill-founded, because I’m sure you haven’t dated all the black men in the world. If you find yourself attracted to any of these characteristics, you need to do some serious self-analysis. And, I mean this with love, because we all have issues and need some self-analysis every now and again.

I am no relationships guru; I’ve only had two. I will admit that after guy#1, I had a split second of saying I would never date an African. But, I quickly realized that whatever went wrong between us wasn't due to where he came from but rather a lack of communication. I guess it's a reflex to reject that which hurt you as you would do with a hot plate of food even though the contents of it are quite tasty, and you know this; the scent of it just sent your nostrils in a olfactory orgasm. But, I notice this trend only with visible minorities; I never hear a White woman date a White guy who turned out to be a jerk say she would never date of her own. But, I have heard such a statement of "never again" also coming from Asians and Indians.

Closet

2010-06-07T19:30:00.000-07:00

It has been a while...and I loathe when I do this. This being not updating; I thought about doing so every day. But then I'd get tired and head to bed, either falling into a deep slumber as I said my prayers or with his deep & groggy voice in my ear. As I stare at this blank page aside from the lines I have just written, I wonder: "what should I blog about?" These sort of things should never be forced; it should come from the soul. More so, it should be native to your soul's secret closet. The one in which you store all the things the people in your real life would never be privy to otherwise. The closet betwixt exhibitionism and meekness since you are, still, hiding behind a screen. I want you to know the real me. Who am I? I am changing and I am in a good place. I write & I write & I'm getting paid to do so, spending time with my family is essential for my week to be deemed as "good" and I've gone back to church. I do not recognize the person I was 5 months ago. I remember I would look in the mirror and just see darkness, and I'm not referring to my choco colored skin that I enjoy to tan whenever the weather permits. The kind of darkness you find in a closet. The one in which your parents keep your baby clothes: stained by time with a lingering scent of baby powder coupled with a more overpowering scent of havent been worn in a good while. Now, I don't even have to look in the mirror to see the effect life has on me. I feel it in my marrow; God is a never ending fountain and the water always tastes pure. No metallic taste nor that of wet dog-I don't know if it's just me, but I recognize that taste- the water is pure, and all are welcome. No, not everything is perfect; there are agitations at my left and at my right. But, my center remains unshakeable. I pray for the peace to remain; I pray the same for all of you.

Yours truly,
Mama.

going with the flow

2010-05-09T13:54:00.001-07:00

a happy customer, my girl Vicky

I've been blogging a lot about love lately, and I think that it has run its course. I want to buy a good camera and take pictures of stylish people I see on the street and go back to taking pictures of my outfits once I get more money of course and splurge a lil' as a graduation gift to myself. The last thing in a good while that I'll say on the subject is that Joel is my boyfriend. A day short of a week after meeting him, we've put the official stamp on it. I've spoken to his brother who lives in New Zealand & have been introduced to a woman he considers to be a second mom. It has been an intense week of me seeing him everyday and talking on the phone throughout the day. He even has me in mind when he does his groceries;) I feel absolutely insane because when I'm with him,"it's all only been a week" is on constant reply in my mind; we shouldn't feel this way so soon. It seems too good to be true, but I'm going with the flow and thanking God as I go.

Yours truly,
Mama.

My baby

2010-04-27T20:22:00.001-07:00

Knowledge is sexy tshirts for 20$

This is the style for men--I'll get lil' bro to model it for me;)

Remember, I told you guys about the H.I.V awareness night I was planning along with two of my classmates? Well, it happened on March 26th after many sleepless nights and unforeseen events (too many to even begin to list). "Knowledge is sexy" is what the night was called, and it featured rappers, singers, bands & poets. We also had a lingerie fashion show (by French designer Johanna) to start the night off with a bang and I managed to book a woman to give a testimony about living with H.I.V. There was also an HIV trivia segment much appreciated by the crowd. Much to my delight, a cameraman from CTV was also present, and footage from the night passed on T.V.

Organizing this event was the most stressful and rewarding thing I've ever done. We collected funds for TASO, an HIV organization based in Uganda which gives out free antiretroviral treatment to people who cannot afford it along with the myriad of other services they provide. The fact that this show even took place with zero funding is a miracle in itself! "Knowledge is sexy" is my baby;) and I plan on making this happen annually.

As we speak, the fundraising efforts are continuing; we've decided to sell tshirts! Until June, the money we collect through the sales will go towards TASO. Afterward, the money raised will be put in the bank for the next show. Maybe I'm a lil' crazy, but the feeling I got after receiving the t-shirts and several orders was tantamount to being in love. I was overwhelmed, happy and just wanted to tell the world about it! I was restless and had no idea what to do with myself.

So, this is what has been occupying my thoughts and my time & I love every second of it.

Yours truly,
Mama.

Ignorance is bliss

2010-04-24T18:55:00.000-07:00

It’s sunny outside, and although I’m cooped up at home studying, I feel great. Summer is a time of endless possibility. Yes, my throat feels raw from the past month of incessant coughing (I’ll see a doctor about that), no I haven’t found a new job yet and no, I’m not yet sure if I was chosen for the teaching position in Africa (Ghana or Botswana), but I’m happy. Not knowing what’s to come means that there is a possibility for great surprises. I chose optimism, and I think that there is a whole lot of sunshine coming my way.

My must haves for the summer are:

Some cropped tops and rad pants like these

These flats

and tattoos...although it will have to be in late august/september, I need to wait until accutane is completely out of my system before I get tatted up;) I have 4 more in mind and then I'm done...I think!

Yours truly,
Mama.

The gym.

2010-04-18T15:02:00.000-07:00

Why defile such a magical place with hormones?

I joined the gym in January to distract myself from the break-up, and it worked. I’m really into fitness, pushing my limits and seeing results. The topic that I pondered on during the weekend is: should people use the gym as a spot to meet a significant other or potential hookup?

There are some pros.
1. You don’t necessarily look your best as you’re working up a storm & probably grunting and if he or she is attracted to you regardless that’s a good sign right?
2. You have a common interest i.e the gym

Now the downside would be, depending on the size of the gym, if you get rejected by one person, the next person you go after might know that first rejecter and then you’ll come across as someone who keeps on asking people out with the hope that someone miraculously says yes.

OR

You come across as the gym serial dater. “Yeah that girl dated Bob last week, now she’s going out with Jim…”

Earlier on this semester, there was a guy who gave me his number on a piece of paper and wrote his number along with the suggestion: “Call me :)” [he acutally put a smiley]. No, I didn’t call him, and we don’t say hi to each other anymore either. 1. Because at first when I would see him after that first encounter, I wasn’t sure if it was him. 2. Later I did realize it was him, but I figured it would be easier to continue on this way…

The next guy to hit on me was a personal trainer who worked at the Gym; this particular situation happened last Wednesday. There I was minding my own business lifting some weights and concentrating on my biceps, when this personal trainer, let’s call him Cute, approaches me and asks if I needed a spotter. I figured, “why not?” From that point on, he spent the next 3 hours+ with me, suggesting exercises I could do to work my biceps, helping me do pull-ups, really pushing me to my breaking point…all the while saying how cute and beautiful he found me and us talking about our lives. I was having a great time; when I would cry out, “I can’t do it”, he’d say, “yes you can. It’s mind over matter.” This service would normally cost someone 25 dollars an hour, but he gave it to me for free.

As we sat on the mats and stretched, he asked me if I came to the gym with my boyfriend usually *hint *hint. I told him, I didn’t have one…and so we began talking about k. He actually looked sad for me, and then he said, “Do you want me to show you?” Simultaneously confused and amused, I asked, “What?” to which he replied, “What the other guy couldn’t.” Although that line was quite cheesy, I thought, “This guy seems a little too good to be true.” Here’s how he looks like on paper: Christian, Funny, Good conversationalist, Hot, Caring, Great cook and Mature. Still unsure, I told him that he could try. Then, he proceeded to say that we could take it slow, talk and just get to know each other and see what happens. His proposition sounded pretty good to me.

Later, he took his break from “working” and we went and ate in the employee lounge. I tasted his chicken fettuccini, which he fed to me as he described the view he had in his apartment in Vancouver. It was actually quite romantic. And then, he said, “I really want to kiss you, but I don’t think you want to.” I said, “No”. My body probably wanted some kisses, but I had just met him; something inside me, let’s call it the Holy Spirit, just knew not to. To say goodbye, we hugged twice, and I’ll go on record and say that they were great hugs; he has strong arms, yet was so comfortable. I think he figured I was a tease since I did have a good moment of hesitation where I let my nose rest against his….and then rushed out of the office saying my goodbyes.

5-10 minutes after I had left him, he called me. Now here’s where things turn sour. So, he calls me and asks if I wanted to come back for a kiss. I thought to myself, “He really sees life as a movie; he expects me to run back, knock on the door and jump into his arms”. Needless to say, I said no. So, he asked when he could see me again. I gave him a chance despite his overeagerness to kiss me; we made a date for the next day before his work shift. When that day came, he cancelled for whichever reason and I lost a substantial amount of interest. That same day, my friend went to the gym to workout [and also see if he hits on other girls as well], and he ended up asking her for her number. When she told me, I must say I was a little surprised but not hurt in the least. If you’re going to play games, why do it with people that have a high likelihood of knowing each other since it’s the University gym? The next day, he calls me during his break and tells me that he wants to see me, and asks if we could chill. I really don’t know what’s up with this guy, but it’s long over on my side. I thought I was off the hook when he cancelled the date and approached my friend. But no, I guess I’m still on his mind as some type of option. Obviously, he doesn’t owe me anything, since we were not official [and will never be], but I think if you’re going to tell a girl that you want to build on something with her, then don’t go chasing after others especially in the same small vicinity. I don’t want to be a notch on his belt. I’ll pass.

I learned

1. A player does not necessarily lose his or her player cloak as he/she gets older. (The man is 29 years old)

2. Follow your instinct

3. No more trainers…no matter how cute they are; that’s a breach of professionalism…Plus, you’re going to see them every time you go to the gym; it’s their source of income. Now, I have to see him and explain to him why I’m no longer interested.

4. When a guy says he will treat you better than your ex before even the first date, then know that he’s saying this solely based on your looks. Well, I knew he wanted to get to know me because he found me cute. But then again, I found him attractive as well. Actually, this is something that bothers me. When I am not interested in a nice guy, I ask myself: “if I were physically attracted would I be?” I don’t want to be a shallow person.

5. I’m going to let God lead the way. I know I’m not actively chasing after such situations, but maybe I am subconsciously…

6. So many new exercises! :) Thanks personal trainer a.k.a Cute; our encounter and your attempt to play me was not in vain!

Yours truly,
Mama.

The institution of marriage

2010-04-10T16:47:00.001-07:00

pictures taken by Adrienne Surprenant

Some pictures from my (final) creative project for my year-long course on HIV. I loved
my experience; it's one of those classes that mark you for life in the greatest possible way. Oh, and disregard my crappy photoshop skills; luckily my teacher is grading me on the vision behind the image rather than my aptitude in removing all the white around a red ribbon and fake looking plus and minus signs!

I wrote this post awhile ago; since it seems that everyone around me is getting engaged or talking marriage, (I exaggerate only slightly) I figured it was quite a propos. I actually wrote it the day the ex broke up with me; although I wrote it before the actual act. Rereading it now, I wonder if I edited it after the event. ~~Some of the things I mention really pertain to that situation or maybe I’m just a darn good psychic. I should charge.~~ Actually, I can't predict the future; my memory fails me on occasion is all. I just remembered, I did edit it shortly afterwards afterall!

I wrote…

“The institution of marriage. I hadn’t heard anyone refer to it as such in a while, but my classmate/drinking [he drank, I chatted] buddy schooled me on the significance of such a powerful act. “You get married before your Church [or not] and your community; it’s not just two individuals coming together as one; they can seek help from the people around them.” My addendum: as long as your entourage knows which lines not to cross, then it’s all gravy. The whole gang then delved into issues of trust, having your own bank account and the likes.

I’ve seen men linked to my family and out decide to leave their femmes without looking back. This pattern has left me reluctant to ever trust any relationship fully. “Why are you basing your life on other people; you’re basically expecting that type of life for yourself,” he said. I wouldn’t say I expect it per say, but I haven’t crossed it off as an impossibility either. What makes my discernment any better than all the women and men that have gotten screwed over intentionally or not by their “significant” other? How can I fully trust my husband knowing that so many women catch H.I.V from their spouses? I’m paranoid, I know. We can never really be certain of what another human being is capable of, what they really think and feel about you. I’m afraid of being lied to again about something so vulnerable as feelings. Asking yourself the question “What would be the point of him or her lying?” doesn’t always ward off deception. Sometimes people have unfathomable reasons to make you believe that they have a future with you or they care. Whether it is to have company, have open access to your body or just for experience…so many possibilities.”

Nevertheless, I refuse to approach life with fear,
Mama.

public display of affection

2010-03-20T21:43:00.000-07:00

I saw him from a far, and I ran towards him. The last time we saw each other did not transpire under the best circumstances, and from then until now I had literally disappeared from his life. I’ll be a bit less vague and say that a group of guys ambushed the two of us one night when we were walking through the park, and he couldn’t protect me. Although I had always attributed superhuman strength to his person, he could not save me. I can’t even tell you what one of them did to me; I blocked it all out. Maybe I resented him for that. I resented the fact that I do remember him being restrained by 2-3 guys, and thus incapable of warding off that one boy’s hand on my body. But, my memory stops there; all I see now is his skin, ghostly white, and the contrast it made with his pomegranate red lips. I kept running, and when I finally reached him, we both giggled like children in a playground. And then he kissed me. And although a faint smell of body odor lingered on his grey tshirt, I was intensely attracted to him. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and thought to myself that this was some major PDA, but I didn’t care because he loves me, and I really love him too. So. We continued in such an obnoxious manner in front of school in broad daylight for everyone to see.

And then I woke up thinking, “Why did I just dream of Edward Cullen; I don’t even find him attractive. I must really miss “love” or rather, the illusion of it.” And then a guy texted me, and for the first time in the month since I met him, I contemplated actually giving him a chance.

The end,
Mama.

Trouble

2010-02-20T18:46:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: I hope this post does not come across as "cocky", because I would say I am pretty far from saying, "I'm the baddest b*tch, the mistress, I'm the baddest b*tch I'm the baddest b*tch, Tri-Tri-Trick please, I'm the baddest b*tch." I quote Niki Minaj to emphasize the point that rather this is a post about a change of perspective, exploration and moving on.

As I think about the past week, I must say that this picture describes it best: unsymetry and surprise

Trouble. That is the term a guy I danced with at Wednesday night’s party used to describe me. Might I mention that I had been seeing this guy around for weeks at school, but we never spoke. I had just always thought that he was really cute and that he looked like an R &B singer, which also implied that he looked like he ate women for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I digress. I felt like a femme fatale that night; I danced with 7-8 guys (yes, I counted because this is so unusual for me, maybe because I was never a party animal). I felt unlike the innocent girl in appearance who had always ignored men and who had felt uncomfortable under any male gaze that suggested attraction. I relished in being fully in control and unattached. & that’s a great feeling especially after you’ve been dumped. Being dumped [seemingly] out of the blue [for the first time] certainly rattles up your self-esteem; you question what you did wrong, what was inherently wrong with you, what was special about you in the first place. But all those feelings flew out the door as I played the role of a super confident woman and simultaneously became her: a woman who saw a guy she wanted (R&B singer), somehow enticed him into a dance, all the while attracting several other guys in the process. So when mister man called me trouble, although it’s probably a line he’s tried on other girls, I felt like saying “yeah, I am”.

Besides that, at the beginning of the party, this beautiful girl approached me and told me that she reads my blog and that she loves it! I was so surprised and happy. My friends said I looked as if I had won an award. Wow, someone from [real] life recognized me. But back to the event, for 5 dollars, it was all you can eat Jamaican patties and all you can drink rhum. Needless to say, it all got a bit heated. I was sober [because of accutane], so I had a clear enough mind to see some of my friends under the influence doing unquestionably funny things which they now regret. A few examples would be: asking a girl to dance repeatedly even after she’d said no, dancing with another guy in front of her boyfriend and other such things. But all is gravy; we had a debriefing the following day and discussed thoroughly what each of us had done wrong and so on. The general consensus was that I was the player of the night, and they were really proud of me for surprising them like that. The only person that was missing was Nana; she would have been, alongside myself, the voice of reason.

D. aka Phasy at the single's auction

Naya and I

I went out again on Friday to a single’s auction, which was less "crunk" than Wednesday, but offered many opportunities to laugh nonetheless. When one girl went up to be bought, the DJ played the song "Dirty whine" so she could show just how well she can “bend backwards and lift her leg up”. Then, some drunken guy from the crowd ran up and tried to dance with her, but she obviously didn’t want to. They then embarked in a semi-fight. His efforts were incessant; he grabbed her head to make her bend over. They span around in circles because she was trying to escape from his grip. Then the DJ stopped the music. My boy D point-blankly said that that man was a servant of Lust, which made me laugh even more. My friends and I couldn’t help laughing, I even cried. The sight of it was hilarious, that girl could have seriously taken him down had not the DJ put the man out of his misery.

Another testimony of the difference a lil confidence can make is found in a friend of a friend of mine. Well, since he and I met, we’ve solely been on the hi/ bye/ how are you doing basis. But that night, before I left he hugged me and complained that I hadn’t even danced with him yet. Surprised, I was. My friend joined us and he hugged her goodbye. Then, he hugged me again, which turned into him whining on me, and I reciprocated. My friend was on the sidelines saying you guys are “enragé”, which roughly translates into “what the hell are you guys doing?!” He looked like he wanted to kiss me, but I averted his stare even though I find him cute. Maybe I did so, because my friend was looking at us incredulously from a very close distance[and did not approve], maybe because I wasn’t sure if he was still with his girlfriend. Then we stopped dancing, and continued again a bit later as I was closer to exiting the dance floor. Yes, he's cute, but he seems like “a pimp by blood”, in other words a Don Juan. But then again, I’m being quick to judge. Later, I tell my friend, “your friend is interesting” I meant that in a “it’s weird for him to take a sudden interest in me” way. But she thought, I meant that I was smitten, to which she replied: “No, Maggie, No…No!”

By the way, the ex was at the party. It’s strange to have been so close once upon a time [well in my mind we were]; the concrete reality is that we are strangers. Of course, we chatted a bit about things you talk to acquaintances about. I noticed him wearing a shirt and tie that I had never seen before. I quickly wondered if he had bought it just for the event, or if he had always had it stowed away in the depths of his closet. When I got home, I told my sister that I hoped this was the last break-up I ever endure. I don’t want to have to cover love with foreign material again & again; to stow memories of me and whichever guy watching movies, cuddling and talking on the phone for hours so far back in mind that I sometimes question if they ever happened in the first place. Seriously, the relationship seems to have been a dream.

I’m feeling these Laroux lyrics

I’m having fun don’t put me down,
I’ll never let you sweep me off my feet,

This time baby,
I’ll be
Bulletproof x2

Yours truly,

Mama.

nothing.

2010-02-16T18:24:00.000-08:00

Photo taken by Nana's baby

I haven't had anything to blog about lately. Nothing; my mind is at a blank as to what to fill this page with. Well, I write. I've been writing down the things that cross my mind when I'm suddenly seized with an urge to have it in print. Then, I can look at it, and understand it better; organize it and add some reason to it. They simply stay private, because it all just seems irrelevant in the end. I feel like a different person, and I also feel bloated because I've just finished cracking a bunch of peanuts and stuffing them into my mouth. Cracking nuts is a soothing activity for me; although I'm then surrounded by a sea of brown flakes, I would say it's well worth the 2 minutes of sweeping that comes afterwards.

Elkie

2010-01-31T21:59:00.000-08:00

Last Monday, I received the confirmation through facebook that my friend Elkie Baltram had died. I emailed the guy that wrote RIP on her page, and he told me that it was true, she had passed in December. Since we had moved and her uncle didn’t have our number, he could not contact us and let us know. Actually, from the looks of her facebook page none of her friends knew. I read the message in disbelief, and then I had to figure out a way to tell my family. My mother screamed and cried, my brother cried and left the house in the middle of night to take a walk, my sister couldn’t believe it, and I slumped down to the ground.

We’ve known Elkie for 18 years. She considered my mom to be her “Montreal mother” as her mother lives in Toronto, and my mother considered her as another daughter. When I was younger my mother and her father were really good friends. Elkie would babysit us, sometimes bringing her friend Jessica , and we’d watch T.V as we dipped chocolate chip cookies into our glasses of milk. The highschool she attended and my primary school were separated by a fence. I remember her school band came to my school to perform for us, and I remember feeling proud that I knew her. She used to call my little brother “a little munchichi” because that was what he looked like at the time. I remember her bringing us a box of donuts one night. A more recent memory would be of trying to convince her to try threading instead of waxing her eyebrows. She explained to me that she had had it done once before, and had stopped at just one eyebrow because the pain was too intense.

At some point, she moved to Toronto to live with her mom, and we would see her every now and again. The last time I saw her was 11 months ago, when her father had died. We went to the funeral and then she spent the weekend at our house. Elkie and her father had a tight bond and obviously she didn’t take his passing very well. We facebook chatted during the summer, and I would say she was doing, at that time, so so. I wrote to her during the holidays, but she had already passed by then. I didn’t know.

I thought of her little brother, who had lost his father almost a year ago and then 11 months later, lost her too. I thought of her mother and her uncle who loved her to pieces. The next day for me was horrible; I felt empty. I went to buy milk for my mom (it was by then dark outside), and felt overwhelmed and afraid. I felt as if something bad could happen at anytime; I felt like the end of the world was dawning; I felt out of my mind. I didn’t want her to die at 32 or ever even though that’s impossible. I wanted more for her life.

I really love Elkie; she was a beautiful, kind and funny person. She was much closer to my mom than she was to me, but she’s family, and she will be missed.

Rough start

2010-01-24T22:13:00.000-08:00

As I contemplate on everything that is going on in the world, this break-up reveals itself to be rather insignificant. To have someone decide that their life is far better without you in it isn’t by any means tragic. At least, I have breath in my lungs, my heart is still beating, I can walk outside freely as the weather has been rather kind these days, and most of all my family and friends are alive and well. I found out today that my brother’s friend's mother died December 30th 2009. She didn’t make it to the New Year, and her kids, who aren’t really kids anymore, would have to cope with that. Whereas, on my side, I had cried shortly after the countdown over something that really wasn’t anything at all. I cannot imagine how her two children felt/feel, since the New Year symbolized a life to come without her and her great cooking and her lectures that they probably found annoying at the time, but that once they sat down and the frustration faded, they would see the logic in her statements... I pray for them.

My childhood friend and former babysitter has been incognito for a while; her facebook page is never updated and she doesn’t respond to neither mine or my mom’s messages. Today, we saw on her FB that someone had written “R.I.P” next to her name. I’m really hoping it’s a joke, through which he’s merely commenting on her facebook inactivity. Please think good thoughts for her, she’s been going through a rough time.

Yours truly,
Mama.

Humble living

2010-01-16T21:39:00.000-08:00

Not much to show, I havent shopped in months;)

I've never been a big spender, because I've never had much to spend. Allowance when I was younger was few and far in between. At 17, I got my first job, and I remember the first thing I bought with my hard earned money working at the Kentucky Fried Chicken call center: a tank top, which had the words "army brat" written across the chest area.

I spend or more like don't spend as if my account balance were always at 0. Since my fast last summer, I realized how much cheaper living off of fruits is, so that's basically what I do. I eat meals at home; when I'm on the go, I shop at the nearest grocery store and stock up on bananas, pears, plantain chips and whichever fruit is on sale. I always have second-thoughts about buying something for myself, which I guess could be a bad thing as well. I find it easier to splurge on others, than I do for myself. But, this doesn't make me a saint. More so, my cheap tendencies make me seem quite annoying, since when asked to go out, my refusals are usually founded on the excuses: "I have to study" or "I'm broke". Although on the odd occasion, I do get the spontaneous idea to buy tickets to see Kid Cudi, which results in the man spraying champagne on my hair...and also me getting pushed around by wild male and female groupies...another story entirely.

Later on, once I've published a couple of books, released a few CDs and written a bunch of articles, I can splurge a little on myself. Actually, even before then since I plan on getting my first real job (as in one that relates to my field of study) during the summer or fall. I'm graduating this semester, and I feel a sense of accomplishment. So, I'll treat myself to something special when this dream of mine materializes (i.e. the real job). I'm not praying for excessive wealth, but I do hope I can live comfortably and be able to help those around and beyond my circle financially.

On the subject of humble living, I am really happy that so many people are willing to help out Haitians, who have already lost so much. All these acts are testimonies to the kindness we are all capable of demonstrating as human beings. On Tuesday, I'm going to drop of some baked goods towards a team effort to raise money for Haiti. Anyone has any ideas as to what I should cook up? I'm thinking something a little out of the ordinary that would make people say, "Dayuuuuum" and take out their wallets!

Yours truly,

Mama.

One a day

2010-01-09T22:12:00.002-08:00

I finally figured out what my plan for the New Year will be: one selfless act a day. I felt overwhelmed today by all the nice things my friends were doing for me. I went to get a manicure and pedicure with Nana and we also went to Starbucks. As we were parting ways, she said to me, “Whenever you feel sad, look at your toes”. Then, I came home and chatted with three of my friends about the birthday party they’re planning for me in Ottawa. We’re going to stay at our friend’s place for a weekend and RAGE:P. House party, lounge, breakfast, chilling; they said they’d cook me a meal and dessert of my choice, and I wouldn’t have to lift a finger. I’m really excited, and wondered why they would go through all this trouble for me. Not to mention, my family, with their "random" calls and text messages, are pretty sweet. At the moment, I’m really happy, and I want to enable others to feel the same. That’s how the one a day plan came about Also, I had given someone the same advice a few days before and decided to practice what I preached.

The people around me truly are blessings; I look at my nails and feel so spoiled.

Yours truly,

Mama.

La vie ne perd jamais ses roues

2010-01-06T17:29:00.000-08:00

I would like to thank all of you for the advice on my last post. I'm way better than I was on the 29th. I'm transitioning from believing I had found something special to realizing it was nothing at all. I feel foolish, but everything happens for a reason as I've been told repeatedly. So, in whatever way I've enriched his life, I'll try and be content with that. But, I do feel, for me, we were a mistake. I feel like I don't know him and never did, which sucks. I considered him to be one of my best friends. It's just the sudden blow of it all that really hurts; I wasnt expecting this over the holidays. However, I will say that he isn't an evil person; although throughout my walk home, curse words would sporadically escape from my mouth (I made sure no one was around... I guess it wasn't so sporadic after all;)).

I hung out with my friend D today. He really cheered me up, and also got me a fruit parfait. We traded jokes; I let him know about my negative theories about men and he told me about the first girl that screwed him over. A woman sitting next to us rolled her eyes at our conversation as if we had asked for her two cents. Where is the love, nowadays? As I told him every crazy thing that popped into my head, I felt happy. Or rather, happy-ish; a dark cloud was and is still hanging over my shoulder. But, time heals all wounds. So, as I discussed it with D., all I can do right now to get over K. is talk to God, surround myself with positive people (I'm getting my first manicure and pedicure with Nana on Saturday and I'll be hitting the gym with Naya and D. throughout the semester) and remain focused. Other popular options, although they've crossed my mind, are not quite to my taste since:

1. I can't drink since I'm on accutane

2. I don't smoke weed or do other drugs

3. I'm not a fan of random make-out sessions with random people because:

a) I don't want to get Mono

b) I don't want to get H1N1

c) I don't want to get any of the above plus a plethora of other germs boys can give me :P

4. I don't want to go to a strip club and see men wiggling their special part in my face

5. Not necessarily a popular option, but I thought about it. I don't know where to find a hot, fit football player who has good morals like the Derwin character in the Game...Although he did cheat on his girl once...and then he got another woman pregnant while they were on a break...

6. I don't want a rebound because:

a) It wouldn't be fair to the guy

b) I really would take out all my anger out on him, I really would

c) A lot of the guys at my school used to go to my other school and there was something wrong with those guys...

d) Being single has always been my comfort zone. I love myself, I trust myself and I don't lie to myself; I'm the best boyfriend.

I'm glad all my peeps have my back. Nana, I appreciate you. Chinwe, thank you so much for the emails:) All of you, I love you.

And so, to translate the title of this post: Life never loses it wheels, which means that life goes on. And it does.

Yours truly,

Mama.

one big block of deceit

2009-12-29T12:50:00.000-08:00

I wish we lived in a world where no one lied just to make their lives simpler. A world where “I care” actually meant that the person did care as opposed to them feigning feelings of affection and putting on a charade in front of you and your family. Love is very important to me, and I can recognize it. It’s there when you wipe the snot and the tears, definitely not an attractive sight, off of someone who is experiencing a pain she’s never felt before. It’s there when you buy your girl a new dress or a slice of cheese cake when her man forgets her birthday. It’s there when you give someone hope that tomorrow will be a lot more promising than today. Love also is present in sacrifice; in crying along with someone while wetting your weave to do so; in supporting another’s dreams and decisions when their parents do not trust them as of yet. All these, I have been for someone or someone has been for me. But, love is void when it is not reciprocated. I am not yet enlightened enough to be at ease with loving someone who doesn’t give two pennies about me, not even on a human to human basis. So, I’m tossing those “the beauty of being with one person forever” ideas into a garbage bag, leaving it unsealed and throwing it in the nearby dump, so all the memories of deceit will mingle with soiled needles, half-eaten junk food and other things that no one else wants.

Diamond in the rough

2009-12-27T12:45:00.000-08:00

oversized cardigan, leggings and boots=my combination of choice these days

Diamond in the rough: Someone that has hidden exceptional characteristics and/or future potential, but currently lacks the final touches that would make them truly stand out from the crowd.

I want to shine in every project that I devote my time to. I want to be a better person, singer, writer, student...I believe I can achieve my goals, so 2010 will be the start of removing the dust from this diamond that is me. I will silence feelings of mediocrity with extra hard work, a positive outlook all the while keeping my eyes on what truly matters.

Merry [belated] Christmas and have a blessed New Year!

Yours truly,
Mama.

Accutane

2009-12-16T18:00:00.000-08:00

I started taking accutane on Oct.27. That morning, I poured myself a bowl of cereal and stared at the orange pill that would be part of my daily regiment for the next 4-6 months. Although some of my friends think I’m crazy for undergoing such a treatment which may cause liver damage, depression, suicidal thoughts, hair loss, joint pains among many other things, thus far, I have no regrets.

I used to be afraid every morning at 9:45 am, my scheduled time to take my pill. I felt as if I was ingesting poison. Now, I’m accustomed to its slightly sweet taste as it slides down my throat, and envision it rather as going into my bloodstream to spread its acne fighting goodness. As of my last visit, my dermatologist has increased my dosage. Now, every other day, I take two pills, which amount to 80mg on that particular day. Why am I doing this? Ever since I was 10-11, I’ve had acne. In high school, the situation wasn't pretty; in college and university it got better, but I still wasn’t happy with the disfigured state of my skin (here I use exaggeration in order to make this post the furthest thing from a “woe is me” appeal for pity)
It’s a bit of a pain, because every month I have to take a blood test to make sure that my cholesterol and sugar levels are intact, as well as my liver enzymes. Last blood check, they poked me five or six times on both arms because my veins are apparently too small…whereas the doctor had easily found them the month before. Oh, and I also can’t drink alcohol during my treatment…which means I have to explain to buddies the reason behind my unusual decline for free beer when I go out. I say, “I’m on medication”. Then I have to specify which kind when they give me a look of confusion and restrained fear.

My auntie in Holland is actually undergoing the treatment at the same time as I am. So far, the results have not disappointed.

P.S. I handed in my last essay today! God is good; vacation is now within reach!

In the midst of a facial improvement,
Mama.

Our H.I.V booth scared people

2009-12-06T14:58:00.000-08:00

On Friday, other interns and I held a H.I.V/AIDS booth for AIDS awareness week at school. We had a truth or dare game, in which we could either ask the participant questions about HIV/AIDS or dare them to put on a condom correctly on a wooden penis. I passed around flyers delivering the short speech: “H.I.V/AIDS trivia game, we have condoms, lollipops and coffee!” Once they heard the word “H.I.V”, many declined my cordial and dynamic invitations. One of my friends said that he wouldn’t come and support my efforts (yes, I'm taking this personally:P) because he wasn’t concerned with the issue.

Needless to say, a lot more people picked truth instead of dare. There was only one guy who answered all his questions correctly...then again, he also thought that us getting 6 credits for an H.I.V/AIDS class to be a very comical affair, so my amazement quickly turned into an urge to throw some lollipops thinking, "may they land as they may". Those who picked the wooden penis, all except one, missed a step or two or three on how to correctly put on a condom. One guy played the game, left and got two of his buddies to partake in the grand event. They arrived saying, “I heard you guys are giving out free coffee”. It’s funny how that’s what interested them the most...or maybe they wanted to mask their excitement towards displaying their prowess in the condom arena.

I spent 11 am until 3:30 at that booth, and surprisingly it passed fast. I chatted and ate with the 3 other interns, and they laughed at my love for bananas. They laughed even more when K showed up with more bananas and fruits for me. Besides that, I came to the conclusion that we would have to get a mascot to attract people to our upcoming activities(I type this while shaking my head). From far, I guess, people just saw a big H.I.V sign with red lights and turned the other direction. I hope our next events have a bigger turnout and also, raise more money. All these events are part of a whole campaign to raise awareness at school and partly, also to finance our larger fundraiser idea, which is the AIDS awareness night. We have a lot to think about…I wonder if a wooden vagina would have the same effect as a wooden penis?

Yours truly,

Mama.

Native

2009-11-26T21:44:00.000-08:00

I saw a woman with short jet black hair that framed her face, the skin of which had either been burnt by the sun or overexposed to frost. Like a marshmallow left to long over the flames, still plump for the picking, she had turned red thus heterogeneous where the marshmallow would have been covered in tarred scabs. Nature had turned her into an enemy, or maybe one bad choice made her so. Maybe she had had bad friends who led her down the path trodden by far too many.
A choice. A drug. An addiction. Eviction. Alien.
Is it because her childhood transgressed the norms of a traditional family? No daddy. No mother packing lunches with broccoli, which you hated, milk made bearable with cocoa and carrot sticks. An outsider. Could it be that she found a kindred spirit in every bottle she downed?
Feel sorry for her. Spare change. Keep walking.
What is for sure is that as I saw her staggering towards me with an absent look in her eyes, her skin either burnt by the sun or overexposed to frost, I felt fear.

Yours truly,
Mama.

This post is all over the place

2009-10-24T09:56:00.000-07:00

Hello blogosphere! It's been awhile, and I can honestly say I miss you guys. Did I tell you, I'm looking into graduate programs? I want to study Africana studies, and I finally found a school in Canada that offers it: York University. I applied this afternoon; now, I need to write a 1000 word thesis proposal, send in my academic transcripts and three references. So much to do, so little time.

Oh, the very talented and artistic ladies, Essense Vibez and Passion Fruit, both left me awards on their blog! Many thanks once again; I shall pass them on in my next post!

Anywho, all that school stuff aside, I spent a good day with K on friday. We watched Kirikou, an African movie; it's really good and loaded with morals. Kirikou is one of the cutest cartoon kids I've seen. It's in French, but there are subtitles, if you want to check it out!

In other news, in my H.I.V course, I was informed about Uganda's anti-homosexuality bill of which draft was passed on Oct.14. One can be sentenced to life imprisonment for being gay, and you can also be imprisoned if you know that someone is homosexual and chose not to report them to the authorities. There are so many good things about Africa as a whole, but these days, I hear disappointing news everyday. Here's to change!

One last thing, I need your help! As I wrote a few posts ago, I'm organising an Aids awareness night. In order for Naya and I to determine how to deliver and construct the information for that night, we need your much appreciated input. As a coworker of mine pointed out to me yesterday, we learn about H.I.V and other STDs in school--I'm speaking from a Montreal /Canadian context. Yet, despite the information available, H.I.V is still being spread. Why is that? How do I get the message across in a way that our Sex.Ed classes didn't? What would you like to know about H.I.V/Aids? In your opinion, are there risk groups? i.e people more at risk to get infected? Any help is appreciated; if you don't want to post your comments here, you can certainly send me an email at magdalene_a@hotmail.com. Thanks a lot!

Yours truly,
Mama.

All in black

2009-10-11T15:51:00.001-07:00

I messed around with these pics with some editing program ;)

Harem jumpsuit: I forgot, my bad
Boots: my sister
Photographer: my big bro

A pinch in the dark
by Yours truly;) Check it out!
Mama.

A pinch in the dark

2009-10-11T13:38:00.000-07:00

Very short post to direct you all to a new short story I wrote for the short story section of Writer's cafe. Please tell me what you think!

A pinch in the dark

To all the Canadians out there, Happy Thanksgiving!

Yours truly,
Mama.