Me? Getting Married?...Hell No!

I've noticed that more and more young women seems to be ruling out marriage as an option. I mean totally. Not "I might not" but complete and utter, unequivocably 'never in a month of Sundays' "I will not!"...and the kicker? They're all straight (well almost). I start to ask myself what's gone wrong. Who or what is to blame for the prevailing reluctance to ride all the way to the last bus stop of relationships? Could it simply be a matter of age? There is something known as the audacity of youth, the prevalent belief of the young of age in their invincibility and seemingly demi god-like infallibility, their total faith in no-one else but self. Age and time usually cures one of that folly and when the biological clock and pressure from friends, family and society in general a mad dash ensues to find the ideal (and not so ideal) husband before the last viable egg shrivels up and the words Hot flash, night sweats, oesteoporosis, HRT and vaginal atrophy form the mainstay of your lexicon.
Is it the dearth of suitable companions? Or is it the sour taste of bitter pills swallowed that still linger? Is it the placing the weight of lofty and insurmountable expections on the shoulders of mortal men (expectations of such proportions as to render even Atlas and Hercules combined powerless and doomed to failure) the cause? Do these young women have not so SMART projections and expectations of their imagined spouse. Do they seek fantasy where commonsense should prevail?
Perhaps it is simply lack of faith in the institution of marriage! This seems like a possible answer. Considering that global statistics show that you have more odds of being a divorcee than remaining married, if you don't have the nerves of steel that favor a game of craps or roulette to which skill is not a major consideration but pure sheer dumb luck (or plain old loaded dice), you might be inclined to avoid a foray into the blood drenched battlefield called marriage a.k.a community property. Again it might not be the fear of divorce or failure but the fear of marriage itself. Our parents are to blame in part here. Our parents' or guardians' marriage is the only one we have front row seats for (asides our own...if ever) and more or less makes or breaks our conceptualization of the word marriage. We are our parents' children and they our primary handbook and road map on matters of the ways of the world. Even as we age and mature and break the bounds of parental influence, our actions and decisions are based consciously and unconsciously, directly and indirectly on our level of disdain for our parentage. We either act to be...or be nothing like our parents. That said the quality of the marriages you are privy to information about taint or color your notions on the prospect. Again our culture and its unspoken endorsement of male infidelity does not prevail upon women to be bound so tightly to men, seeing as he has a virtual carte blanche to be of mischievous intent.
But again really what is the need for marriage? Isn't marriage really the deciding of two people to be emotionally connected and showin the world the strength of their conviction in each other? So why the ceremony? Isn't cohabiting much the same thing? Two people deciding to couple their lives and their assets without fanfare? At least abroad I know that cohabiting partners have certain legal protections similar to those enjoyed by legally married partners, and common law espousal is recognized. Is it wrong to seek commitment but not the attendent jewelry? Or is it a case of eating one's cake and still trying to have it?
Or are the only cards in the deck really just marriage or eternal bachelor(ette)?
Please take note that these are mere musings on my part, the musings of a much demented and jaded mind no doubt, that still hasn't made up it's mind on acquiring a Mrs. status, but I'd like to know your take on this muse.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

The One That Got Away!

I believe everyone has that one person in their life who they think of with longing and regret. Regret over wasted time, things left unsaid, things better left unsaid. The one person who got away. The one person who has you saying "coulda, shoulda, woulda" and asking that eternal question "what if?" I have (or should I say had) one person like that in my life. The love of my life. My best friend, the one who got away.
I got a call today, a call I wish had never come, but it did. I was informed that my best friend died two days ago. I'm in a state of limbo and still hoping someone will call and say it was just a mistake. But I know that won't happen, his sister's tears made that clear. I'm writing now because I'd rather write than cry. If I don't do something I'll only weep, and I'm not ready to cry yet. The irony of the whole thing is I'd been ill too and never knew he was ill. My illness started the day his did, same thing sef. Malaria and typhoid. I got better, he didn't. What's even funnier is two days ago I woke up feeling unlike my usual self. I was lethargic and really had no zeal to do anything. I remember telling a friend that I was just feeling generally tired of life and fed up. As it was, that was the day he died, and now I wonder if that was the reason (even though I'm not one to romantize such things).
We had a very strange relationship. Very, very strange. We were friends for nearly 8 years, for 5 of those years we were more than friends. Most people (self included) actually thought we'd get married (his kid sisters still daydream). Things happened, that now when I think about it really made no sense, and even after he married someone else we still kept in touch. Even though he hurt me greatly he was still my best friend, and we could never really leave each other. Don't get me wrong. He was married, thus out of bounds, but on an emotional level we were always joined. We could have an entire conversation without saying a word. He always got me, even when I didn't get me. He was the one I could always count on, as strange as that sounds.
He was that one! Maybe the One. He was the one who'd hold my hair while I'd be puking in the bathroom. He was the one who slept by my hospital bed. He was the one I'd stay awake with all night just talking, and the one who I could just sit with for hours and not feel like I had to say a word.
He was the one I always loved, and he loved me too. I'm not talking about the "tear off your clothes" mad passionate kinda love (though there was a time we had that too), I'm talking of the "I love you as you are" kind. He had issues, I had issues, WE had issues and maybe we'd never have made a marriage between us work, but that aside if I killed someone he'd be the one I'd call and he'd help me bury the body, no questions asked and vice versa. He was my person!
Now he's gone for good. So adieu to the one that got away! Adieu to my best friend.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

From Girl friend to Girlfriend

I'm the perfect girl friend! Seriously, I am! Guys just LOVE me. I'm funny, I'm fun, I'm kinda geeky, I talk football, know what a 4-4-3 formation is and am totally fanatical about my team (for them as don't know...Manchester United is the best team ever to grace the planet), I can drink with the best of 'em (and have put many a man under the table), I'm not prone to girly girl antics (i.e I don't flicker my eyelashes and act dumb or burst into tears when I don't get my way (I have a mean left hook for that :-))). I know the difference between SOAP and soap, and also get that Ruby on Rails isn't the name of a movie, and I keep it light. All my male friends come to seek wisdom from my oracle on dating and female issues (Delphi has nought on me) and I'm more or less one of the boys. Really cool and as an added bonus I can cook (all my male friends are in love with me).
So I should have no problem when it comes to my boyfriends (as in unpaid sex workers not as in guys who are my friends). I wish! It appears I become totally clueless when I'm in relations (or is that relationships...I tend to get confused which is which). All my super cool girl-pal powers evaporate when I become "The" Girlfriend. I'm starting to believe that it is a terrible idea move from friends to "friends". You can be really down to earth with your friends, you can talk shit and not feel self conscious or bad. You can be real and not fear judgement or reproach because your friend gets you, and has no preconceived notions or expectations about you. You can enjoy sitting down at a joint and jointly scope the field, offering friendly suggestions about the correlation between gravity and butt\boob sag (depending on the particular asset of preference of the scoper), and the link between shoes and penis size.
However, the minute the line is crossed, the rules change. Jokes that used to make both of you roll hysterically on the floor with laughter now bring about what I'd like to call the "Boys are not smiling" look. The once easy comradeship that was as natural as the hair on your head (the hair you were born with, not that raggedy ass made in Taiwan weave) disappears once you've seen each other naked a few times. The evenings spent chilling with the boys knocking back the double doubles are now taboo. Your one time best source of relationship info no longer exists, let's face it you can't really ask your bf to give you advice on how to get a guy to give you a lil down town action when he's the man in question. Sure you can ask your girls but again lets face it, guys know guys better!
Many conversational topics vanish from your gist repetoire, no more talk about the fly honey you saw at the club. Or how cute that hunk's tush's looking in those (oh those) jeans. Total no-no!
Another disadvantage is that boyfriend knows you. How's that a problem? Well let's look closely. This is the guy you spent nights with giving the down low on all your underground pimpette player moves. This is the guy that was in the know that time you had a holiday fling...when you had a boyfriend no less! He knows you! Bad, bad, bad...Michael Jackson bad! Seperating your pre-dating persona from your current dating persona is at times a task. And let's face it...you know him too (dawg that he is or is that was? :-D)!
Dating is hard enough with someone you don't know, but it's like paddling a canoe upstream without a paddle when you have history. That said I still think I'd prefer dating the guy who knows I like rice and okro, that I think Danger Mouse is way cooler than Mighty Mouse, that knows I'm a mean bitch till I do my first cup of java and slept by my hospital bed when I went in for surgery just so I wouldn't wake up alone.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Light Up Nigeria? Pt 2

Break time over and our lesson continues, now where were we? Oh yes...quoting the GDP guy.
Let's take it from the top again so we don't lose the flow!

"…the more the efforts are that have been made in the power sector, the more troubled things seem to become. The more money is spent on the sector, the more epileptic and unreliable the performance of the sector appears to be."

How true the statement! N27billion was allocated to the power sector in the annual budget (asides from its own internal revenue of about N25 billion) yet as I write, workers in the power sector are currently on strike protesting for improved funding, improved wages, actually improved everything. The government clearly has no faith in their investment, especially considering that they also earmarked $2 billion in taxpayer money for provision and maintenance of generators for the Federal Government and its agencies. Hey you…stop rolling on the floor laughing! This is not funny and it’s made more ridiculous by the fact that WE (yes! We!!) supply light to neighboring countries (some of whom have celebrated a decade of uninterrupted power) and we can’t even power the residence of the Presido! Ok…NOW you can roll on the floor! Meanwhile those in charge of the sector gladly boast of increases in revenue generation. It’s quite elementary really…reduce output (thus reducing overhead) and charge more for services not rendered, et voila…instant increased revenues!
Now we’re (sorry Government IS) still bull-horning the “Giant of Africa” slogan for all who care to listen (and to those that don’t i.e. the average Nigerian on the street) but really how giant are we? Now…as I said earlier…power generation is strongly linked to GDP, where do we stand in Africa with regard to energy generation capacity. According to The World Conventional Energy Supply, 2004, Africa's highest supply in descending order of magnitude as follows: South Africa has 30,020MW capacity; Egypt has 14,250MW capacity; Algeria has 6,188MW capacity; Libya has 4,710 MW capacity; Nigeria has 3,960MW capacity and Morocco has 3,592MW capacity etc. i.e. South Africans have 10 times more energy than Nigerians. Population-wise South Africa has approximately 44 million inhabitants, and as I said, Nigeria has approximately 140 million. Is something wrong with this equation? (I’m actually scratching my head here). Ok math time (calculators out children!) Nigerians have roughly 11W per person…and the average light bulb needs 60W to work! Hmmm!!! Again the equation is baffling me! It’s a K. O (not even a technical one, the 1-2 combo very a la Ali) and South Africa takes the belt!
So how can we regain the championship belt? Simple! Provide adequate power! Now to the class work…if the power situation improves, and the $117 billion (N6 trillion) that is spent annually in Nigeria on diesel and generators is invested into the Health or Education sector, or infrastructural development what are the benefits? Let’s see. Firstly cost of living would fall drastically, cottage industries would flourish as the cost of doing business would drop, industries with huge employment and revenue generation potential such as manufacturing and textiles, could effectively and efficiently function (huge overheads having disappeared), and more businesses (and more employees) equal increased tax earnings. Income generation diversification would naturally follow as more export would mean reduced dependence of oil revenue (which as we know is receding rapidly…like Nicholas Cage’s hairline). This means more money in Government’s coffers. Environmental degradation would reduce (no more CO2 emissions from generators), and if gas (of which Nigeria flares 97% of what she produces) is the primary source of fuel for power plants it would further reduce, and conversely save the planet for our generations unborn and generate more money for Government. It’s a win-win situation! The people are happy, the Government makes money (equals happiness)! So for homework, answer this question…why doesn’t the Government just do what it must and #lightupnigeria?

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Light Up Nigeria? Pt 1

On Monday, 14th of July 2009 a revolution occurred. No shots resounded, not AK 47s or mortar bombs in sight. No state of emergency declared, no martial music played on the radio. Nothing! Not an outward sign exists to herald the birth of this coup d’état that started like a whisper and is gradually rising to a roar. This roar will soon become a deafening crescendo if its momentum continues to grow. Several events have taken place during the last few weeks (and months) that I have chosen not to write upon. Primarily because they had been adequately treated by more competent and experienced bloggers, or simply because I had nothing further to add (I’m not the kind to blog just for the sake of reading my own text, that’s what my diary’s for). I was most recently nearly (thisclose) tempted to write after the DRAB vs. 9ja youth debacle (my Twitter and Facebook friends will understand this reference) but Bankole Wellington (aka Banky W) wrote a very eloquent rejoinder in defense of our youth. However, Light Up Nigeria (#lightupnigeria) requires special treatment.
It’s apparent from the first paragraph (for those who do pay attention to my yammering) that once more I have jumped on my tiny little soapbox and started with my ant-like ranting, as is always the case when the words “politics” and Nigeria are mentioned in the same paragraph within earshot of me. What in the name of the gods am I on about this time (and could I get to the point already…yes, yes in my spare time I read minds too!)? I’m talking about a new movement that is gaining ground care of the Nigerian youth movement via the social networking forum Twitter.
The premise behind the movement is to primarily protest the epileptic (and near non-existent) power supply situation in the former Giant of Africa, the much abused and pillaged but still beloved land of my birth (if not my upbringing), Nigeria. The government would have you believe that we are still giants on the continent, but alas WE the people know the truth (and the rest of the World is getting the picture too). The person that started the movement’s momentum is El Dee the Don a popular musician in Nigeria apparently after he almost lost a relation during childbirth, due to…power outage. It isn’t as if that’s a new occurrence, or that power outages are not a permanent fixture in the life of the average Nigerian (actually having power is more or less a special occasion…kinda like birthdays and Christmas), but as the saying goes, a certain time arises in the life of a man where he says enough is enough! And seriously, ENOUGH is ENOUGH. With the aid of his twitter family the movement started. People started attaching the #lightupnigeria hash tag to every tweet and picture, stating their reasons why government should address the perennial power problems, within the space of two days the #lightupnigeria hash tag had reached No. 18 on the worldwide tweet topic list, and more people are joining the train. The stars came out to shine and light up the area, with celebrities such as M. I. (Jude Abaga), Banky W (Bankole Wellington), Tosyn Bucknor, Andre Henshaw, Kel (Kel Ohia) et al joining the movement and soliciting support from their tweet posses.
It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such zeal for anything asides from money among the youth in my country, and it’s always seemed to be a case of “e go better” with everyone sitting put in the typical “siddon look” posture, waiting for a hero to come save them. In all my ‘soapbox’ chronicles, I’ve always advocated taking personal responsibility, being the change rather than waiting for the change to happen. At last, I see it coming to pass in my lifetime.
Now for those of you not in the know you might wonder why the agitation, after all hasn’t this always been the way of the world (in Nigeria that is)? Let me take you to school briefly and give you a history, economics and political science lesson in an abridged form. Don’t get panicky when you see figures like $117 billion (is that nine or twelve zeros at the end of that?) or other such sums you only hear about on TV or see in the papers, why panic? Our government isn’t worried, so why should you be?
Nigeria has a population of approximately 140 million people (hence the Giant of Africa pseudonym (totally on account of population)) and is the 7th largest producer of crude oil in the world. We’re rich right? *buzzer goes off in response to that statement, signifying error, invalid command entered* Well according for those in the know, we are DIRT poor (not just ordinary poor) with between 75 -85% of the population living below the poverty line (personally I figure it’s more like 95%, but what do I know?). Industrial growth is near 0 and the few businesses we have relocating to friendlier hubs such as Ghana. Why? Inadequate power distribution and the high overheads incurred running generators 70% of the day. The energy demands of the country are estimated at 25000MW, the reality…the country’s current output is roughly 3900MW (of which 2400MW are self-generated!) and in the last decade roughly $16 billion (yes dollars, not naira) has been invested in the power sector and nothing has happened. In the words of the author of a study conducted on the correlation between power generation capacity and GDP:
"…the more the efforts are that have been made in the power sector, the more troubled things seem to become. The more money is spent on the sector, the more epileptic and unreliable the performance of the sector appears to ...

Tweet It...You know you wanna

The Five-Year Plan

I sat down recently and contemplated my existence and as usual it was a depressing event. I checked my prior year and the years before and asked myself what had I done with the time that I'd been granted. For those that are wondering why I waited till now to do this, it's quite elementary Watson (to borrow from the Great Sherlock Holmes)...my "new" year commences on the day of my birth, in this case 3rd June. Anyway that piece of trivia aside, I reviewed my goals and objectives and found I'd consistently fallen short of the mark on all of them, and let out a wail of frustration.
Some of the goals I'd set for myself were very un-SMART (for the non-management degree holders this means Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic and Timed). They lack concrete description, could not be quantified, were highly unattenable and totally unrealistic and had no timeframe attached to them. And pursuit of such goals is the path to the loony bin. Other goals were totally out of my control and depended on others for their fulfilment. More loony fest material. I thus sat with a pen and pad, the requisite cup of java, mobi turned off and a "Do not disturb" sign boldly displayed on my front door, and slowly began the change process.
Change is never totally an external phenomena, it tends more to be an in-out process as opposed to an out-in one. Sure, certain external events can promote change to an extent but fundamentally change occurs when you make the decision to, and my life was definitely due for a change. My external catalyst for change was my "boyfriend" who after 7 eventful years now told me he wasn't likely to get hitched to me (I had to ask! Times a-wasting, my hairs a-grayin). Talk about a kick in the ass! This got me thinking (at last...do I hear you chanting)! What was I waiting for? I have no major commitments, I'm still young, still have all my hair and most of my teeth and I'm still a hottie (yeah, yeah, I know, I know...modesty becomes me)...so why was I putting brakes on my future? Because I was waiting on a proposal that I now know isn't likely to materialize? Good question. I finally realized I was holding on with tenacity so I'd have an excuse if I failed to fulfil my potential.
I drew up a list (surprisingly it was very short) of what was "wrong" with my life, what I needed to do to change the wrong (still working on that one), what I wanted to achieve with my life (even shorter) and then how I intended to get there as well as put a timeframe on each activity.
The first thing I decided that I would do more of was take risks. As the saying goes "nothing ventured, nothing gained" and if I don't take chances I only have myself to blame when I swallow sour grapes. The first risk I took was to submit some of my writing to a magazine. My facebook followers and friends had always told me that I should take the writing gig seriously but I always brushed it aside as friends being friends and blowing smoke up my derriere. I guess fear of flying also played a role in my reluctance, the fear of falling flat on my face and receiving rejection slips. This time I said "f**k it, what's the worst that can happen?" and took a shot by following up on requests for freelance writers for an internationally based magazine. I just submitted my first articles and my by-line could be coming to a vendor near you pretty soon (fingers crossed they publish the drivel I sent).
Number two on my list was to see exactly where this Entertainment gig would take me. I'm now in the process of signing on two new acts (actually three if I count my actress) to my artist management outfit (and registering the same) and am set to audition as the anchor of a new TV show billed to take off next quarter.
I've still not finished drafting my five-year plan, but I think I'm making inroads on breaking the past five years jinx!

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Robert Lindsey

Ok...I'm relatively easy going and believe in freedom of expression, but where I draw the line is when people expose their colossal ignorance, bigotry and unabated racism and talk utter bullshit from a 'dem say' point of view without having valid first hand knowledge. Today I read one of the most asinine and ignorant pieces I've read in a long while, and the author of this drivel is 'allegedly' a Masters holder (from which University I wonder) and thus should know the importance of adequate unbias research. I also took time to read other blog posts by this same anti-semitic, african hating **** (think colorfully...like a drunk sailor in a bar and fill in the blanks) and have concluded that the man has major MAJOR issues (padded room and straight jacket written in his horoscope...if he doesn't do a 'Columbine' and slaughter a bus load of immigrants first that is!).
For those that wish to read the offensive article that got me spewing expletives before my meditation, the link is Robert "highly racist, anti-semitic bigot" Lindsey.
Now I won't dispute some of the points he raised (even though his statistics were heavily skewered and exceedingly bias) but his manner and tone was beneath civilized, his statements were derogatory and smacked of personal angst. If he had approached the issues from an unbiased view point Nigerians and others would have responded in a more supportive manner, but his aggression started from the title itself and continued throughout his slightly psychotic ravings.
Below is the comment I wrote in response to his inane rantings recorded here in case he decides not to publish it.

Dear Mr. Lindsey,
I was initially ticked off (putting it very very mildly) when I read your blog post, but after taking time to engage in deep breathing techniques my clarity returned and I found myself overcome with great pity for you! What else can I have for someone who wears his prejudices and bigotry so proudly on his chest as if it were a bronze star and exhibits his gross stupidity, myopia, racism and illiteracy (education consists of more than acquiring degrees).
I've been fortunate to have travelled to a few of the places you so caustically disparaged (most recent being Manilla, as well as having the (mis)fortune of a 1st World (says you!) upbringing) and although some issues do exist it is nowhere near as bad as you erroneously claim.
With regard the Nigerian scam artistry issue get your facts right. Nigeria is yet to produce an scammer with as much skill as say umm...America's own Madoff! Neither have we attempted to sell off the London Bridge or the White House as some of your fellow citizens have. And usually people that get scammed are either greedy, naive or just plain dumb. And pleeeeease who is so so lame as to have to resort to internet dating...don't have women in your own country?
We don't have cases of serial killers, or people waking up in the mornin hating self and humanity and going on senseless killing sprees for the heck of it like you crazed and deranged whiteys.
You should speak from experience not hearsay for your rantings to be taken moderately seriously or maybe this is like Candid Camera and we'll find out that you're just jossin with us and this is just a big joke and you really aren't this retarded.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Who am I?

Strange question to ask, right? But a meaningful one all the same. Who am I? Who are we? What defines a (wo)man, what constitutes their identity? Is it their name? Does your name determine who you are or will be? Does being called John Doe instead of Mark Adams change who you are? Is it gender that makes one who they are? Does being male rather than female affect your basic 'self'?

Does who your daddy is (or isn't ) make you the person you are? Or less than the next man or woman on the street? Is it the color of your skin? Should your heritage or place of origin determine who you are? Maybe yes or maybe it is the collectivity of all these!

We (our true 'self') are not formed or developed by one factor alone. 'No man is an island' as the saying goes and neither do we exist in a vacuum. It is all the factors above and our daily interactions that make us WE.

That said, have you ever stopped to think...how have I impacted on developing someone...good or bad.

Every day, it seems, we are bombarded by stories in the media about people waking up in the morning and deciding life sucks and everybody should be dead. Kids wake up, take a loaded gun, and kill their classmates, teachers and then themselves. Journals and diaries tell a case of bullied, teased and belittled individuals, gradually being to hate. Don't get me wrong...I don't condone the actions of these people,but I do ask this...wasn't there anyone who treated them like people and showed kindness and love? Wasn't there anyone who gave them a reason to love in return?

In your day to day activities you meet people and have an effect on the lives of those you meet. We tend not to think that our actions or inactions toward people profoundly affect their lives and actions. That smile on your face when you say hello, or the simple 'thank you' you utter could be the thing that stops the person thinking of suicide from jumping. That kind deed, done without expectation of thanks or reward, might be the very thing that restores an individual's faith in people. That kind word, that sincere compliment given might be the very thing that lifts the spirit of a downcast individual.

It may seem that you can do nothing about the way of our world today, but our actions help, in part, to make people who they are.

Take time to be kind, to be selfless, to be concerned about your fellow 'man' and you could be the one who changes the future.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Me on Facebook Tweet It...You know you wanna

That Crazy Psycho Bitch!!!

Now I'm one of those people who hate when guys use the words ho, skank, bitch etc to describe women as it's just damn plain disrespectful to the entire female gender. Especially when we remember that all men are of woman born. However no better epitaph than the title given fits this particular classification of woman. I mean let's check it...crazy psycho babe, crazy psycho lady, crazy psycho woman, crazy psycho chick...none of them have quite the same ring as crazy psycho bitch, now do they?

Many of my male friends have lamented their encounters with certain daughters of Eve and have had no better name for their erstwhile love interests then 'that crazy psycho bitch'. Their stories have sent chills down my spine and made me wonder what genetic flaw could make the once loving girlfriend suddenly turn to Freddy Kruger of Nightmare on Elm Street fame. Is there something in the female gene code that triggers psychosis in us? Is there a particular chromosome that turns a relatively (cos truth told most human beings are only about 80% mentally stable on average) stable woman into the Bride of Frankenstein revisited when she enters a relationship? Or is it the men that trigger the response?

In a piece I wrote awhile back (Commitment Pt. 1) I compared a relationship to time in a psychiatric facility...(after all the word commitment could refer to exclusivity in a relationship, dedication to something, or a spell in an asylum!) and I asked whether relationships made people crazy or simply acted as a catalyst and merely triggered a latent congenital precondition. I've seen otherwise sane and intelligent women turn stalker, forgetting their own lives and careers and trailing their men's every movement (or squandering money better spent on Jimmy Choos, paying people to spy on him.)

Technology has also increased the power of the female stalker. Now she spends every available minute tracking his MySpace, DiggIt, Facebook, Twitter etc activities and posting hate-mail to every female on his list. God help him if she gets her hands on his password...she either sends insulting emails to everyone from his boss to his mother, or simply deletes all correspondence and contacts. GSM technology has also changed the path of relationships and brought psychosis to greater heights. Now she steals his phone to check his call log and (either using his phone, her phone or a business center) calls everyone warning them to stay clear. A friend of mine told me of such a case where his (now ex)girlfriend called his sister and warned her to leave her man alone. The SMS in-box and outboxes are not safe either. Messages sent even before they were an item are reacted upon immediately, the same thing as with the call log. As one US rapper lamented to his boo in a rhyme...'it's called an iPhone not a Us-Phone'. Damn girl...the privacy thing goes BOTH ways.

I've been on the receiving end of this, with strange women calling me at 2 or 3 in the morning to tell me to leave 'so and so' alone or else! When I was younger this would have proved sufficient motivation to date the guy even if I initially had no thought of the initially (I hate people threatening me or accusing me of crap I didn't do). Now (older and moderately wiser), I'd laugh, but instead I feel a slight sympathy for the woman, so insecure in her relationship that she has to spend time better spent sleeping or having sex, harassing poor women like me!!

Now...if she's not calling all his ex(?)-girlfriends (real or imagined), she's calling him! Not once in a day mind you, but 15 to 20 times in the space of 3hrs (maybe it's just me, but c'est tres beaucoup EXCESSIVE=CRAZY!!), that aside she still sends 10 or more SMS messages between calls. If, for any reason whatsoever, (none of her business if he's in the middle of a meeting to cement a multi-billion naira deal) he doesn't pick her call he's with another woman! She routinely checks his clothes for makeup smudges and lipstick stains, her nose is always on active duty for strange perfume odors. She goes as far as doing his laundry so she can check for sperm discharges on his boxers! If he's late arriving home he must be coming from his latest catches house (she's timed the journey from his office to house to the nanosecond and recruited his guard or neighbor's child to serve as watchdog). Unfortunately for her, all these actions succeed in only one thing...sending the brother running and screaming for dear life to the hills. Hell, they're not even married yet and have been dating for all of six weeks, she's acting like she owns him and has the C of O in her handbag!

Now I know there are men out there who can actually drive a woman to such madness with their underhand and damned right sneaky behaviour, but most guys are pretty straight up and involved in their relationships (I'm really being very kind with this assumption!). I don't think it's a trust issue either. It's not about whether she trusts the guy, but more about her self-esteem. I mean if you're like me and know you're fly, why would any guy cheat on you? (I know...I'm very modest). OK...so I'm just joking there, but truthfully if you know that you're a good woman and deserving of respect, and you know that you carry yourself as such, even a guy who's an absolute dog'll treat you that way i.e with respect. If he values you he'll put a damper on his gaming or at worst keep it out of your line of sight because he thinks you are special.

When a woman is the type that is independent of her relationship, and can find her happiness outside her man, and seeks her own pleasure, letting him be himself; the man tends to want to spend more time with her. Why? Because she's stress-free. She prioritizes the relationship, sure, but it isn't her only priority. Her life does not revolve around him, she realizes that he is only an addition to and not the whole of her life. And if homeboy doesn't appreciate the fact he's on to a good thing...his loss...not yours

Personally, I have a policy, it's very simple and not mind-blowing, but it's helped me from entering psycho bitch status...I follow the advice of the Three Monkeys, that is Hear no evil, See no evil and Speak no evil and evil shall be far from you. What I don't know won't kill me, and if I don't go looking for trouble I won't find it. I really don't care to know what secrets his email account holds, nor his SMS boxes. Neither do I want to know where he is or who he's with when he isn't with me. I don't want to know who he's calling or who called him. I don't care who he's kissing on the side, cos he ends up in my bed not hers. As Ashante sings in her song..."I've got the good good". And I don't listen to tale bearers, my body dey phone me when wahala dey!

Curiosity slayed the cat and he had nine lives, I only have one and have no intention wasting it worrying about any man even if he's my husband!

PS: I'd like to know for research purposes readers encounters with CPBs (please feel free to change the bitch to bastard if you need to...men are not exempt from the crazy psycho label either). And CPBs are welcome to tell what drives them to it.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Me on Facebook

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Week 58 Wordzzle Challenge

Another challenge is here and I feel good. I've tried to follow up on the story of General Mustard and his household as best I can and might just start a contest to see if you can guess 'whodunnit'. :-)

10 word challenge

Words:Acrobat, grocery store, ceiling fan, dandelion, bumble bee, alabaster, scissors, chartreuse, strenuously, cube.

Amy loved her kitten! It was a beautiful chartreuse given to her by, her now erstwhile French paramour, Antoine. Actually the cat was the only useful thing to come out of the affair, it kept her better company at night that was for sure! Now as much as she loved Kitty, especially when she did her little acrobat routine of chasing bumble bees through the dandelions in the backyard, Kitty could be very unruly (much like Antoine!). Last week she jumped on the sideboard and knocked over the alabaster vase that held Amy's gran's ashes, sending Grams flying in every which direction. Her mother nearly had a fit of apoplexy when she heard the news! Kitty couldn't be trusted on her own for a minute, even a 5 minute trip to the grocery store meant lugging Kitty along to forestall catastrophe. Three days ago Kitty discovered the joy of shredding and reduced Amy's favorite silk blouse to tatters more effectively and efficiently than a pair of maliciously handled scissors. As Amy sat on the veranda of her little cube of a house that the housing agent tried passing off as a charming cottage, while soaking the breeze from the ceiling fan, she calculated the best way to subdue Kitty's natural precociousness during the strenuously tasking 2 day drive she was about to embark on to see her mother!

Mini challenge

Words:iPod, poison ivy, computer, interpreter, optometrist.

"I really need to see an optometrist" wailed Sandy to herself over the music throbbing from her rather battered iPod. Her once loved friend...now nemesis, the computer monitor appeared to wink maliciously at her, as if savoring the pleasure of her dilemma. She'd been in front of the screen 14 long hours trying to put finishing touches to her play titled 'Poison Ivy and the Interpreter' that was to play in 8 weeks, but she found the ending to be too much of an anticlimax.

Mega challenge

Brigadier General Mustard sat in the gazebo now devoid of the shade once provided by his beloved birch trees, the hummingbird family twittering away unseen in an obscure branch in someone else's tree, sipping morosely on a glass of Chartreuse, the ice cube choked lemonade on the raffia table a tad too tame for his palate and thoughts. His attention was divided! He was currently trying to decide whether to focus on the little bumble bee playing acrobat amongst the dandelion clusters in the lawn (Michaels always seemed to overlook the weeds while taking care of the garden), or the simply concentrate on the oscillating ceiling fan in the gazebo that was working strenuously...and fighting a losing battle in the General's opinion... in a valiant attempt to cut the heat to an endurable level. Carrie had gone to the grocery store, or so she said, to stock up for his birthday party scheduled for the next night.

What the General really wanted to do was to take the spare keys from the alabaster vase in his study and check Carrie's room for any clues that might exclude her from the suspect list...or invariably link her to the arson!

He loved his daughter but...she'd always run with a bad crowd and had disappeared from his life for 12 years, before surfacing 6 months ago with brood in tow and very few answers.

He finally gave up the fight, grabbed the keys, and ambled to her room. The room looked very much like it had been hit with a rocket launcher...or a hurricane! Maybe it had been...Hurricane Carrie!!! She was always pristine and well put together, but she was an absolute pig when it came to housekeeping. On the bed he even spied a pair of scissors peeking through the mayhem on the bed.

A cursory recon of the room showed little to pique his curiosity. He walked over to her computer table and noted nothing of interest other than an appointment card for the optometrist and tickets for a play titled 'Poison Ivy and the Interpreter' by a playwright called Sandra Fullerton. He began to feel rather foolish and very guilty for even suspecting Carrie and headed to the door while cursing himself for being a nosey old fuddy duddy, when he noticed an iPod peeking out from under the bed. Now the Brigadier was one of those people who was best described as a gadget freak (for lack of a better word), a throwback from his 10 year stint in counterintelligence no doubt, and knew his way around technology better than the average Joe. He scrolled through the menu and saw a track with no name but the date clearly showed it was recorded the day of the fire! He pressed 'PLAY' and the first voice he heard sent a chill though his spine!

For more about Ms. Raven and instructions on how to do the Wordzzle for yourself, go to Views from Raven's Nest

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Wordzzle Week 54

10-Word Challenge:

Words:
sugar bowl, cotton, wizard, fundraising, Ben Hur, salmonella, luke warm, telescope, bank, walk-a-thon.

Story: Emma hurried out of her office in the Bank in order to get home to change for tonight's benefit. She'd decided to attend the charity fundraising at the Metropolitan Center, in aid of victims of the latest salmonella outbreak, dressed as Cleopatra while Oscar her date was still stuck between going either as Ben Hur, the
Wizard of Oz or a sugar bowl. The evening was a bust, Oscar spent most of the night looking through the Mets' telescope, the wine was luke warm and the mousse tasted like a swab of cotton and Oscar, the silly fool, had registered them for next week's walk-a-thon without even asking her.

Mini Challenge:

Words:
challenge, sparkling cider, melancholy, snail mail, master carpenter.

Story: Jonathan was master carpenter
at CraftsRUs. As he sipped on the glass of sparkling cider his wife had brought into his workshop, he found himself in a state of melancholy as he considered the new challenge that had arrived via snail mail.

Mega Challenge:

Story: The annual Sugar Bowl
was in less than three weeks and Jill was distraught and decidedly melancholy! She'd been given the job of organizing the whole shindig and everything was spiraling madly out of control. The master carpenter was behind schedule with the float, the council was still dilly-dallying over the permit that would allow them close a section of the borough for the fundraising walk-a-thon. The challenge
of getting the state health inspector approval for the food vendors still hadn't been surmounted, especially with the current salmonella outbreak and the snail mail brigade were back on strike again. Moreover, hell of all hells…the cotton candy machine was double booked for that day.

The rest of the Sugar Bowl committee was lukewarm about her ideas on the theme and entertainment for this year's extravaganza. She wanted a Roman or biblical theme with the entertainers dressed up like Cleopatra, Mark Anthony and Ben Hur. The others wanted a cosmic and magical theme with complete with fairies, elves, witches, wizards, and a giant telescope. The Miller people still hadn't fulfilled their pledge of giving them 24 barrels of sparkling cider and the committee's bank account was almost in the red. She was in a total tizzy and was sure that she was doomed to go down in history as the ONE…the one who ruined the Sugar Bowl!

For more about Ms. Raven and instructions on how to do the Wordzzle for yourself, go to Views from Raven's Nest

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Wordzzle Week 57

10-Word Challenge:

Words:
apoplexy, doctor, hummingbird, shallow end of the pool, brigadier general, mustard, greed, parallelogram, slumber party, casual.

Story:
Doctor Stuart in his usual low and monotonous voice educated Brigadier General Mustard on the realities of his current condition.

"Apoplexy is a result of excess pressure on the brain and that explains your bouts of loss of consciousness and voluntary motion. I can assure you that this condition is not one to be taken casually. There is no quick fix here! If you do not listen to my advice, you will find yourself in the deep end of the pool without a lifejacket, if not dead!"

All the while, the brigadier general stared out of the window, focusing past the parallelogram formed by the trees in the arbour to; a cheeky little hummingbird sang in one of the trees, and his granddaughters and their friends, splashed in the shallow end of the pool, before heading out for their planned slumber party. He thought to himself "I once thought that I no longer have the greed for life that makes one care to live, till my daughter, Carrie, and my granddaughters' came back into my life! Now I want to live" and resolved to do whatever the doctor thought was best.

Mini Challenge:

Words:
Mount Olympus, arsonist, portraits, birch trees, "that car needs a new muffler."

Story: Shirley tilted her head to get a better view of the particular picture she was reviewing. It was one of a series of portraits by Michel Von Strauss titled the Arsonist's Revenge, and this one had a smoldering Mount Olympus obscured by a clump of birch trees. The Sunday Review had paid drive to Michigan and her car kept backfiring and contributing in no small measure to Global warming. She made a mental note to tell her mechanic that that car needs a new muffler

Mega Challenge:

Words:
apoplexy¹, doctor, hummingbird, shallow end of the pool, brigadier general, mustard, greed, parallelogram, slumber party, casual, Mount Olympus, arsonist, portraits, birch trees, "that car needs a new muffler."

Story:
Brigadier-General Mustard was having a Mount Olympus sized fit! Carrie tried to calm him, reminding him what his doctor had said about apoplexy. He was livid with rage. An arsonist had set fire to the guesthouse, luckily no one had been in. his granddaughters had gone to a slumber party and would not be back till the next day. The birch trees in the arbor had been obliterated and he feared for the lives of his favorite hummingbird family that usually congregated there. Unusually for her, Carrie was dressed in casual wear, a pair of joggers with a strange parallelogram motif, and she had a grease smudge on her blouse. The brigadier general mused on that before asking her about it. "Oh dear me" she responded, "It must be from that old banger of mine, that car needs a new muffler I think." The General started to get a little suspicious about the identity of the arsonist
when he discovered a grease-stained rag, hidden behind a flowerpot near the
shallow end of the pool. Especially when the insurers began asking about the value of property in the guesthouse and Carrie started to go on about a group of portraits that he was sure had already been sold last year. Could Carrie be the arsonist and was
greed
the motive?

For more about Ms. Raven and instructions on how to do the Wordzzle for yourself, go to Views from Raven's Nest

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Pen and Blank Pad

Over the last couple of weeks I've had sort of a writer's block. It's not that the ideas don't come...it's follow through that's the problem.

1001 bright ideas pop into my head, and a few are kinda great (if I say so myself), I even hear voices in my head spewing forth witty dialogues (and yes...I do know how that comes across!!!) but when it comes to putting pen to paper (or in the 21st century, finger to keyboard, or in my case, to mobile phone keypad) I ram a brick wall. The fountain of words dries up, the voices press mute, and my muse jumps ship.

I think I understand why I'm muse-less! Over-anxiety! I got a lot of props for writing humorous and insightful little pieces, and some actually suggested I should think of writing professionally, either as a columnist or a novelist. Now I don't know about that (although flattery is always appreciated), but now I have expectations to live up to... and they're not my mother's! (whose expectations I've at long last stopped trying to meet. I started disappointing her from when I hit 16 so why should I stop now? :-)).

Competition is also rendering me 'pen' shy. It's not that I'm actively competing with anyone here, but blogspot has provided me an opportunity to see what's available and I'm green with envy. The talent abound, and the sheer artistry of many of the bloggers here has me hyperventilating, panicked and feeling like a fraud (even though I never pretended to be a writer). I need to step my game WAY UP!

The pressure to perform is getting to me, I believe. The sarcastic wittisms that formerly dripped effortlessly from my 'pen' have dried up quicker than a water droplet in the Sahara. The tongue in cheek humor that once graced my posts, now washed up and faded... like a Hollywood starlet gone past 30!

The once fun activity now begins to feel like work (ouch...did I just say that dirty word, the W word). The thing I did purely for pleasure and free psychotherapy is suddenly my own private hell.

I've decided I'm no longer writing for anyone. I'm going to write just for me. Hopefully like Stella, I'll finally get my groove back.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Me on Facebook Tweet It...You know you wanna

Here I Stand!!

"HERE I reflect... looking inward, I believe I speak for most (wo)men when I say that in life, you're tempted to find ways to occupy the emptiness and loneliness you feel with temporary fixes. The more I tried to feed that void, the more I hungered. My search for oneness eluded me because the superficial shrouded me. Being truthful can be hard, but lying to oneself is harder. Sooner or later, you realize there's something missing in life. Something meaningful...something spiritual"

There's a group that I'm digging right now. They're called The Script. I heard a song from them called 'Breakeven' about the realities of ended relationships and I was kinda hooked. Interest piqued I dug further and chanced upon a track called 'Fall for Anything'. The chorus has a line that goes '...stand for something or you'll fall for anything'.

Now the song is actually a cry to women about listening to the same old lines spewed out by men to get a little somethin' somethin' but it got me questioning...'What do I REALLY stand for?'. And I'm sad to say I found I could think of anything.

It was a hard truth to accept! And more questions arose. What is there in my life that I would willingly fight for... die for? Apart from my children, to whom I have a moral obligation, I could think of nothing. What ideals govern my life? I'd like to say I'm incorruptible, morally above board, dedicated to something, but I can't! I realized that I'm just a person who floats on the currents of life's endless sea. Moving from one day to another, or should I say moved by the winds of destiny, towards my imminent demise.

If I were to die today, what legacy would I leave behind? What would I have done of note? What would I be remembered for? How many lives would I have touched? I have only one answer to give...Nothing!!!

I have found on bitter and sober reflection that I, as I stand here, stand for nothing!

"HERE I kneel...bowing my head in prayer. Remembering the times when I grew weary gives me humility. Knowing that change is never easy. I have confronted life's trials with passion, determination, and resilience. God's voice orders my steps. I am not perfect, but I am emboldened by His promise... I pray for the strength to speak up for what I believe in, and most importantly, to stand up for what is right!"

The above quote speaks volumes to my heart and I pray that when the time comes I can say boldly...HERE I STAND!!!

Quotes from Usher Raymond's "Here I Stand" single. Tweet It...You know you wanna

The Wish-list!

Many a night I've lain on my bed and wondered "Why am I alone?". Don't get me wrong! I'm actually one of those weird people that can and does enjoy their own company for days on end, by design! That said I do like 'adult' human companionship from time to time.
I want someone to talk to (it is so...o NOT cool to be talking to yourself in a locked room!), someone to enjoy the silence with, someone to snuggle with Sunday morning when playing hookie from church. Someone to watch really bad Hong Kong movies with while you play critic from opening credits till 'THE END' rolls on screen. Someone who shares my taste in 'weird' music by Nigerian standards and has the commonsense to tell me I look gorgeous when I gain ten pounds. Someone who really gets my dumb jokes and gets it when I have an epiphany. Someone to be my +1 when I get an invite to a gig or party (going stag has its virtues but when everybody else is a pair it can get old). Someone to be there when I cry and someone I can let my guard down with 99.9% of the time.


Now this isn't atypical! I'm sure I'm not the only person with this wish-list, but where the irony is is that I'm in a relationship and have been for 6 years!
Yes...for those of you who think I'm a lesbian...I have a man! But do I really? We've been together for ages (longer than a lot of marriages I might add), but recently I've found myself asking why do I feel so alone! Why am I still living the single life? He's been on transfer for almost a year but this current state of affairs started long before he left.
I was initially content with the status quo...we hook up when we need to, hang out individually, call before we visit (ok...that was my idea...what you don't know about doesn't count) etc. But a six year booty call isn't my idea of a relationship. I love him, and recently he confessed that he loves me too, but I'm not sure I want to continue on this ride anymore.
Maybe turning 30 has something to do with it. I've realized that I want far more. I WANT to get married and have more children (I have 3 daughters from previous encounters) and time's a-wasting...big time!
I've been gentle with him, letting him know I'm there, never pushing him and letting him find his feet in our thing, but I can't allow that anymore. I want all those things on my wish-list! And I want them soon.
At the same time I'm kinda scared of letting go. Me...back on the dating scene! Agh! Frightening thought! Should I be so ready to throw away 6 years filled with some moments of joy or should look for something more? Maybe the question I really need to ask myself here, I guess, is: do I deserve the Status quo or do I deserve the wish list?!

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

Me on Facebook Tweet It...You know you wanna

Wordzzle Week 55

I recently came across a blog (well not really...it was listed on blogspot's blogs of note and i liked the title) and I'm glad I took the time to read it. Now by no means am I a writer, nor (more importantly) do I pretend to be one, but I do enjoy jotting down a tale or two and musing on paper about whatever crosses my mind.

Now Ms. Raven offered me a challenge. She presented me with a series of words and said make of this what you will. So I did...and this is what I came up with.

10 Word Challenge
Words: humanity, shadow, richochet, wrong, pluralism, mathematics, person-hood, printing press, ink spot, choral society.

What has gone wrong with humanity? Why and how have we become a mere shadow of what we once were? Mankind speeds loftily to its end like a fast moving bullet that had richocheted off its due course. We are a generation that calculates strange a mathematics to compute the worth of one's person-hood based on the volume of a bank account or the colour of one's skin. A generation that thrives on isms and schisms. We have forgotten the pluralism that makes life, the duality of actions. Karma no longer exists, only the 'here and now'. Well I say "NO! Stop the printing press a new story will be written today. I refuse to be an ink spot on the pages of history, illegible and nothing more than a blemish. For today my voice shall be the soprano in the choral society for change."

Mini Challenge
Words: kingdom, take names, best seller, three times, inner demons.

The fairy kingdom organised an annual bake-off to celebrate Queen Matilda's birthday. Melvin, a fairy new to the kingdom, came across the palace attendants busy with preparations for the event and asked "What goes on here, pray tell?" Meli the chief palace fairy said "we are here to take names from all the contestants at the bake-off in Queen Matilda's honour, strange fellow."
Now unknown to the attendants Melvin was plagued by inner demons that only cooking alone seemed to cure and as it stood he was three times winner of Martha Stewart's cooking contest and his cream powder puffs were currently a best seller at Walmart's. Boredom and lack of challenge had brought him to Matilda's realm. Needless to say he registered and won!

Mega Challenge:

She watched his shadow fade away as she stood looking on longingly after him. Where was the humanity in the situation? He walked out of her life without a second glance. 6 years of togetherness over just like that. Not even a by your leave. Her womanhood (sorry that's not PC and she always was that...her person-hood) was in tatters. How could he? Leave HER...and for a younger woman no less?

Six weeks on, she finds herself still calculating mathematics of pluralism, the words attendent with coupledom still very much part of her vocabulary. Slowly she begins to understand that there is no more 'US' only 'ME'. She gradually starts the process of recovering her individual identity, although three times in as many days this month she's caught her feet walking by his house by their own volation. She still struggles with the inner demons that tell her she is and will never amount to anything without him.

Three months down the road she finally decides enough is enough. She enters the dating market again and even goes to see "The Lost Kingdom" with the cute guy in the next office. She joins the choral society as an avenue to meet new people.


15 months on, on the road to recovery, she goes to the local printing press to complain about what appears to be an ink spot on the cover of her wedding program. The printer apologises for the error and for the life of him can't understand what went wrong with her order and offers to redo the job for free. Rather pleased with herself for being assertive, she gleefully strides out only to bump into HIM! All the emotions, the rage, the long suppressed hurts richochet out of control...for the briefest moment. She quickly regains her composure and gives him a bright smile and asks after his health. He smiles sheepishly as he replies her. She's happy to see him, not because she missed him, but because she's doing just fine without him, and looks like a movie star; and he very much looks like hell warmed over and visibly blanches when she tells him of her wedding next month to one of the most eligible bachelors in the country. She's done well for herself since he's been gone. Her therapist had advised her to write a journal to help her overcome her grief. An editor friend of hers chanced upon a few pages and offered her a contract. Currently the journal is available as a self-help book called "Take Names" and has been number one on the New York Times best seller list for three months. The rights have been bought by a big Hollywood movie company and Hugh Jackman is pencilled down to star as her love interest. In the acknowledgement section of the book she thanked Tim profusely; as it goes in the book "To Tim: thanks a million for dumping me. Without you going i'd never have amounted to nought!"

For more about Ms. Raven and instructions on how to do the Wordzzle for yourself, go to Views from Raven's Nest

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Wordzzle Week 56 Challenge (I think so!)

10 Word Challenge
Words: partition, imagination, salvation, mirror image, green power, highway, roasting marshmallows, serial killer, autograph, cartography.

Everywhere she turned she was confronted by her mirror image. Going to the world famous "Hall of Mirrors" at the amusement park had been Tony's idea. Dear, darling Tony...once her only true love and salvation...now just another notch on the serial killer belt! She questioned the reality of the situation. "This is just my imagination playing tricks on me...I'll wake up soon...I have to!". Somewhere in the distance the smell of roasting marshmallows could be perceived, so strong she could almost taste them. "I'm close to the exit," she thought to herself with great relief. Suddenly a hand touched her bare shoulder and she screamed.
"Ms. Mackenzie are you okay?" asked the rather shocked young man. "I'm so sorry I startled you, I just wanted your autograph. I just got your book on cartography, 'Mapping Our World' and had wanted you to sign my copy".
Red-faced and embarrassed as hell, Michelle hastily scribbled her name before bolting to the back of the partition that seperated the auditorium from the ante room. Mortified she ran for the exit and jumped into her green powered car and burned rubber all the way to the highway. Suddenly she burst out laughing self-consciously "That'll teach me to watch horror movies alone again!"

Mini Challenge
Words: cell phone, big Mac, panther, legendary, poets corner.

Big Mac, the legendary leader of the Black Panther movement, strolled down to the poets corner for a little coversation and his usual morning latte only to meet the ghost of T. S. Elliot yapping on his cell phone with Marilyn Monroe.

Mega Challenge:

Driving down the highway on the way to a Salvation Minstries retreat behind the wheel of her so-called green power car, Michelle Mackenzie (aka 'Big Mac' or just plain Mac to her friends), wondered, while starting at her mirror image in the rear view mirror, for the umpteenth time why she'd accepted Michael's invitation to the revival, but it provided an opportunity for them to spend some time together.
The breeze from the rolled down windows carried with it the smell of roasting marshmallows and the sound of childrens' laughter, making her smile as she remembered happier, carefree days.
To wile away the time on the seemingly endless drive Mac gave her imagination free reign to conjure up ideas for her new novel about a female serial killer, that would hopefully help her career cross over the invisible partition seperating her from joining the legendary 'Best-sellers' honour roll. The novel's main protagonist was an out of work detective with a degree in cartography...of all things...trying to hunt down a killer called the Panther. Her editor thought it was a lousy idea but Mac was determined to stick to the plot.

Just outside Abuja her cell phone rang. It was Michael asking her to meet him at a cafe called the Poets Corner in Zone 10, and from there they'd head on to the revival. 20 minutes later she arrived at the cafe, took a seat and ordered a latte. 20 minutes more passed by which time Mac had gotten to the hundredth item on her 'foul things to say to Michael for always keeping me waiting' list, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned ready for the 'mother of all wars'. There stood two young girls holding a copy of her last novel, sheepishly asking for her autograph.

For more about Ms. Raven and instructions on how to do the Wordzzle for yourself, go to Views from Raven's Nest

Tweet It...You know you wanna

Hey There!!!

This is officially my first blog space ever! I really don't know what this blog'll be about...a little of this, a little of that, but definitely a whole lot of me! All I can promise is that this will be painfully frank and i'm open to 'constructive' criticism and feedback on anything i put up here.


I'll put up my posts from my facebook account to get the ball rolling and give you a taste of my mildly psychotic humor. Enjoy reading. :-) Tweet It...You know you wanna