Short Story 2: The Unexpected Call

With a number of people loving Sound of the Underground which I posted a few weeks ago. I thought I might give another short story a go. I find short stories easier to come by as they hardly ever need to be conclusive and always provide some sort of suspense for both the reader and writer. So I literally wrote this in my sleep several weeks ago and only just stumbled across it when I was searching my scribble pad for a post inspiration....

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Much like every other city sleeper, Jackie knew sleeping was an art not an act. Having moved from the country to the city almost a year ago, she had diligently mastered the art, ensuring her days were kept very busy so she was nothing but exhausted before heading for the boudoir. However, in the weeks following Dotun's brief visit, sleep had become scarce. As she lay in bed subconsciously reciting the speech she had carefully rehearsed for the moment she knew he would pop the question, she tasted the salty wetness of tears as they slowly travelled down her beautifully contoured face, pausing at her model like cheek bones before adopting a roundish bend to roll down the sides of her face, finishing around the corners of her lips and dripping to her Egyptian cotton 1500 thread count sheets. She had spent every other night in this state and as much she hoped for an end to this emptiness, she somehow knew tonight might be different, if only she tried a bit harder to push Dotun's memories out of her mind.

Friends had come with their words of wisdom, encouragement, hope and promises of better days to come. Her mum had offered to ride the train down from Devon, despite her phobia of travelling and her disdain for her African lover. Yet, Jackie remained transfixed by memories of that moment when he walked away with no signs of ever coming back. So she did what she knew in her heart a lot of other women would do but dared not share. She stayed in anticipation of a sign, perhaps an unexpected call, the kind that you hold out for so long you pretend to have forgotten about. That which you hope would come when the night seems a bit too long for your thoughts or dreams and warms you up like a blanket on a cold winter night. As she tried to blink back the tears, her eyes stung and knew it was time to stop. She knew more than ever before that she wanted a sign from her long distance lover but true to form it never came. Partly waiting with abated breath, she used her remaining mental strength to attempt a telepathic message which she knew wouldn't travel past her bedroom door, obviously because what they had was no more. They had lost their spark and connection and like many others had failed to make it to the finishing line, even though they had run a good race. Her skin looked paler than she remembered and her hair felt limp and dry, just the way her world felt whenever she remembered his last words to her. She pulled out her outdated diary and did what she felt was her last shot at regaining her sanity. She wrote. The more the words came, the closer she came to the brink of sleep, till she finally fell into a deep slumber. In the morning, she rose, full of ambition and hope, rushing off to the post office, satisfied but still very much anxious of what was to be of his unexpected call, following her heartfelt letter.

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Youth is wasted on the young

I remember spending countless hours as a young child, peering into what I thought the future would be, flirting majorly with the idea of myself and the world, several years from where ever I stood in time and wishing it all to happen so fast so I could get to where I could only access in my dreams. My favourite game at the time, was "playing grown ups", pretending to be a mother, wife, doctor, journalist, actress and everything else but my youthful self. I certainly enjoyed cooking and sometimes eating make believe "pepper-soup" with sand, water and flowers lol (I guess that was the youth in me). Like a lot of other kids, I couldn't wait to grow up in so many ways and yet in some ways I wasn't prepared to give up my youth. Now the future I dreamt of so many times is finally here, I look back and wish I spent more time being a kid. I can't entirely say my youth was wasted because I did a lot of silly things a young child is expected to do, but I also took myself waaaay too seriously. Especially in secondary school. While most girls wanted to have a reputation for being the "hardest babe" in school or the one who has gone out with the most guys e.t.c., I simply had no interest in such frivolities. I have always been very adept at doing the right thing at the right time, not necessarily thinking the right things at the right time BUT at least I maintained control over my actions and this is something the youth of today lack.

Given the amount of information we are clogged with on any given day, thanks to the internet, I am not surprised that today's youth know a little more than they should or can handle. So the fact they appear to be spiralling out of control shouldn't come as a shock. We have blamed parents, broken homes, weak school systems, the government, God and technology in our bid to justify the disappointment that is today's youth but why aren't we blaming them? We have all been young once upon a time and yes we thought we had seen the worst, but innovation has meant the worst of the worst is yet to come so the problem isn't entirely in the amount of exposure the youth of today have. It is also in their character. The other day, I read about Kimberly Walsh (Girls Aloud), who revealed she had only had two lovers (a.k.a.sexual partners) and immediately rushed to read the comments following her revelation. Judging by the comments, I could sense that a lot of young people do not read the Daily Mail and secondly, a lot of parents were happy to have one positive story out of celebdom, to share with their kids whom I can be certain would mostly reply "So what? She is no Cheryl Cole that would explain the lack of interest from men. Besides how uncool is she......just two boyfriends her entire life. How boring?" Sad but this was the reply I got from a  young person when I shared this piece of information with her. Interestingly, there is a follow up article on Kimberly's story this morning, with the writer putting Kimberly's lack of promiscuity down to her luck, rather than morality. Saying she has been incredibly fortunate to find two good men she has stuck with (personally I disagree with this). Morality is not inherently conditional. Besides if the first man was wholly good, a one-man woman like Kimberly wouldn't have needed a number two (duh!).

Having younger siblings has also been an eye opener. I have heard so many stories that make me worry deeply for my unborn children. Stories of young girls aged 16 to about 21, owning sex toys and declaring it proudly on Twitter, having multiple sexual partners a la Samantha Sex and the City (she is a fictional character for goodness sakes!), holding orgy sessions in 5* hotels, paying younger boys to spend "quality time" with them when their boyfriends are unavailable and all other kinds of craziness that I don't even feel comfortable typing. The guys aren't any better, with boys as young as 8 smoking and binge drinking, walking around with pitbulls (and their signature oversize Adidas tracksuits), beating each other up and innocent passersby for no reason and of course the credit card fraudsters trying to live like the Hip Hop stars they idolise.

I may have been boring for not ever having a boyfriend until I went to uni, for not ever smoking or drinking heavily (or just generally being badly behaved), BUT I'm glad that for all the times I wanted to grow up fast, it was for the right reasons like being accomplished. Thanks to strict parents and being level headed, I enjoyed and am still enjoying my youth!

80's mania!!!

As an extremely proud 80's baby, I've got to say I am enjoying the attention this decade is getting from fashion, food, music and film at the moment. I mean, we've had Karate Kid (1984), The A-team (80's TV show) and Predators (1987) all of which I saw at the time but was certainly too young to understand (bless). Fashion wise, aside from the 20's flapper-esque era and the late 50s / early 60's Jackie O era, I also love the 80's punk fashion scene for their leggings, leg warmers, shoulder pads, pastel colours, Ray Ban sunnies and denim jackets which we all seem to be fiercely rocking this summer. However, my greatest 80's love is the music! Think about it, the decade birthed MTV (1981), which show cased music videos from the likes of Aerosmith, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Prince, Phil Collins, Lionel Richie, Queen, Duran Duran, Bon Jovi and New Kids on the Block to name a few.

Given the great socio-economic similarities between the 80's (a.k.a decade of greed which saw increased spending on luxuries and conveniences) and this current decade, perhaps it isn't a coincidence that we are currently witnessing what I like to call "80's mania". Now for a trip down memory lane, anyone remember this track? (luv it!).

Grrrrrr!

On days like these, I have nothing but admiration for the brave people who go to whatever dark lengths, to secure anything else but the dreaded Nigerian passport! Having just spent the last 2 hours prowling the over 20 pages long Tier 4 Visa application form, I can assure you that the Nigerian passport is a certified pile of shite! Yes, I am angry and frustrated because unlike a lot of other people who would be resuming business school in September, I am stranded in London (I know we are having a peculiarly hot summer but I want a vacation gaddemit!), staycations are soooo summer '09. Worse still, I have to spend my precious time filling in this cursed form that makes stupid demands for things like my blaaady birth certificate (the cheek!).

Aside from better chances of securing a place at a top ranked UK university, thanks to your coveted international fees, I struggle to find any other great joy of having the Nigerian passport. Its dirty green colour certainly borders on offensive, at least in comparison to the British burgundy or American navy blue. The fact you have to apply for a Schengen visa (nightmare!) just to travel within Europe is retarded (someone needs to sort this out). What exactly are the perks of being a Commonwealth nation?

Even though I've never quite had any dramatic experiences with immigration officers, I am not entirely unaware of the one too many questions they tend to ask you because of your questionable nationality. Or the way they make you wait for all the EU/UK/US passport holders to pass through, before attending to you as they do in some Greek and French airports. Yes we don't have it as bad as some other countries like Pakistan, but I really detest my passport sometimes and even though I am a VERY proud Nigerian at heart, I am not such a proud one when it comes to carrying my passport around. I confess, I have several passport covers which I deploy for specific trips; the simple black cover is for business trips, the vibrant orange cover is for group holidays with my girls and the dark brown leather (European Union labelled) cover is for solo trips (a bit extreme I know lol!).

There is also the cost and stress of renewing your million and one visas. Securing a Schengen visa is the definition of cumbersome. Where possible, do yourself a favour, use an agency! Otherwise get organised and plan well ahead of your trip (trust me I learnt the hard way). While US embassy trips are just a right pain in the backside (lets not even get into the over the top security checks.....Americans and their "oversabi"  (translation: know it all). And lets not forget how it stifles your productivity at work, as you can't just up and go on an unexpcted business trip because you need a visa or the one you already have needs renewal grrrr (I almost missed a very important business trip to NY a few years ago thanks to this).

For whatever sins I may have committed in my past life, I have been cursed with a Nigerian passport in this one and I can't wait to get my hands on my British passport (fondly called "the red" by we green passport holders). Yes I said it!

P.S. Anyone want to help me complete my form? I pay good money......

Bag it up!

I love bags almost as much as I love shoes so when my friend showed me her collection of beautifully crafted leather hand bags, I had to buy one and put her on blast, Scribblediva style.

I could only upload a few pictures but she has several more (at very affordable prices ;-)). For more details, hit her up on: olatoun.adeyemo@gmail.com. Happy viewing!

 

 

Love...

Everyone needs to watch Not Easily Broken, at least once or twice (it made more sense the second time). Whenever I do a blog post, I usually start off figuring out the title, then I build up the body of my post from it. But today, I struggled to find an appropriate title for this post as I was torn between Not Easily Broken (the inspiration for this post), Pride comes before a fall or just good ol' Rant. However as the movie came to a beautiful end, I had no doubt in my mind that Love was the way to go. I have no intentions of writing a synopsis of this film because I am trying my best to write shorter posts BUT I do want to pick up on certain aspects of the film. Ever since my post about Stepford Wives and basically what roles society expects women to play in marriages, with a hint of what is expected from men too, some people came back asking for more. Frankly I told them I didn't want to drag the post as I am not well versed in the area (seeing as I ain't married). However, watching this film, I think I have a more informed opinion about the roles of a man and woman in the institution of marriage (or relationships).

Despite the weak reviews, I thoroughly enjoyed this film which had Morris Chestnut and Taraji P. Henson deliver what could possibly be the best performances of their careers. The moment I knew I was going to do a post about this film was when Morris (David) said, "When God made Adam, He instructed Him to do 3 things: work, cultivate and protect. Down through history, men have always been measured by how hard they've worked and cultivated, by how well they've protected their families. In the old days women saw their men as conquerors, providers and heroes but somewhere along the line, something changed and women started to become their own heroes. Maybe it is because men forgot how to be men or maybe because women didn't want to be protected anymore or maybe because of the pain women had to endure in life. But whatever the cause, the world took away a man's reasons for being a man. They told him he wasn't important anymore and when that happened, they turned the whole world upside down."

Hearing this from a man was refreshing, maybe because I've spent considerable amount of time with friends (guys and girls), trying to understand what has gone wrong with the institution of marriage (or relationships even), especially in the black community. In my opinion, it seems along with the equal rights movement, women forgot how to remain loving whilst being ambitious, and men never learnt to adjust and love a woman who could serve more as a partner than a subordinate. In everything he said, it is clear that there has been a serious miscommunication as a result of pride or a lack of love (not entirely sure), but women certainly do not want to be their own heroes (at least not ALL the time); and no matter how great an all girls night out maybe or how satisfying a job is, there is no greater pleasure than that of being with a man (a good man, just the way God intended). Yes feminists (and a well rested me 8 hours from now), will probably shoot me for saying this BUT it is the truth. Of course we don't all sit around bonfires chanting and willing good men into our lives but no straight woman can boldly say men are entirely unimportant. Even though those of us who have men (not necessarily good ones but potentially good), sometimes end up emasculating them with our constant nagging, lack of affection and discouragement because we have bought a bit too much into the Independent Woman hype and think we are better off on our own (not healthy!).

Moving on, later in the film another problem was revealed, men (black men especially), have made us believe every problem in a relationship is 95% physical (perhaps it is easier for most men to admit to being attracted to another woman than to say they are emotionally dependent on her....something about emotions just makes men uneasy). Guys! You need to be able to open up those communication lines no matter how squirmy. Yes it is socially acceptable for women to say "we need to talk" but trust me, we don't particularly enjoy uttering those words. Building up on this, Taraji's mum (brilliantly played by Jenifer Lewis), dropped a profound line "Black women have to be strong". To which Taraji replied: "In all the lessons you taught me about how I need to be strong and independent, you left out one important thing, how to love, forgive and how to really care for somebody else" (deep!). Our men cherish our strength, it is one of the most attractive qualities of a black woman. Sadly, our focus on being strong has distracted us from an even sweeter part of what being a woman means, love and affection. Perhaps our history and culture has meant we struggle with emotions as a race and usually view it as a sign of weakness, BUT love is not an adjective or a noun, it is a verb. I may be clutching at straws here as I haven't done as much research on this as I would've liked to but it is my belief that men like to be needed especially emotionally and physically. If they feel dispensable in these two main areas, anything/anyone that fills that void automatically becomes the object of their affection. All I'm trying to say is if we are to cut divorce rates and broken relationships, men and women need to learn to start loving more, no matter how challenging.  After all, love is long suffering (1 Corinthians 13:1-13). Easier said than done I know, but with God, ALL things are possible (Matthew 19:26). As D'banj famously sang, "love is a beautiful thing"....g'nite London! xx

Bubbly bubbly

There is something very hedonistic but rare (let's be honest), about having a great night out in a swanky club, especially in London or New York. By definition, a swanky club is one that is posh, exclusive and pretentious at best (I just described every club in West London...the horror). In London, swanky clubs may sometimes throw in RnB and HipHop (especially since Funky House took over) as a bonus on Saturday nights in particular (lucky us....not!) and you are required to get a table and spend a certain minimum to endeavour you get in, especially if you are not their average looking clientele (i.e. footballer, investment banker or broker, celebrity or aspiring model). So yes, a lot of us just sit around and wait for the party throwers to hire out these clubs and get their own DJ (almost always Bayo or Xclusive), to give us what we call a good night a.k.a. no fuss entry (of course your standard £20 goes at the door), VIP tables (at none VIP prices), sickkk music all night long (woohoo!), familiar faces (thanks to Facebook) and a possible 4am finish.

As we are all getting a little bit older by the second, going to these predominantly juvie fests is fast becoming a big NO NO so yes nowadays I tend to just hit birthdays and do the odd nights out with friends. Few weeks ago, a very good male friend of mine and I hit Taman Gang on a random Friday night and yes the intention was to get tipsy and pretend the techno tunes were the next best thing since Rude Boy lol. Thankfully, Iyaz (dude behind the hit single Replay) was in the building and my friend has very close relations with the club, so we had one of those rare great London nights of a solid 30 minutes or so of good music and no fuss entry (nice!), oh and of course we got a little help from our nectar friends, downing quite a few Amaretto cocktails. So last night when my friend suggested we hit another swanky club, Merah Club (former Crystal) for a mate's birthday, I wasn't completely dis-interested. Thankfully we had a wild night!

Firstly, you must understand that my love for dancing means I only ever go out to drop it low, so of course, the idea of going to a club to sit still and look pretty is equivalent to watching paint dry. I'd rather stay in with my girlfriends, with a good movie and even better alcohol (yes I drink but only in moderation lol.....yah!). So anyhoo when it comes to clubbing, I tend to avoid the pretentious scene especially as you are almost always guaranteed rhythm-less music, although now the game is slowly but surely changing. So last night was a pleasant surprise especially as I was very sober all night lol (just wasn't up for getting smashed). Merah rocked 'arrrrd for a lot of reasons: 

1. The bubbly flow was tasteful. For obvious reasons, a lot of swanky clubs believe too much in the bubbly phenomenon a.k.a. pop champagne which could sometimes border on tacky especially when you throw in way too many sparklers (okay dripping with Cristal while dancing to "Say Aah" is fun only if it's really your birthday lol). As Aristotle famously said, "seek moderation in all things."

2. The people! Everyone was trendy as expected, verrrry good looking, friendly and up to no good lol. It was a sight to behold. At one point, I actually took an odd moment out to suck it all in. People from all races, ages and walks of life, just having a great time partying. It was awesome and I felt very at home, just my kind of scene. Enough preppy-ness without the aloofness.

3. The music was surprisingly HOT! It started off a bit slow considering we were met by a solid one hour techno session (with a hint of funky house) but then the DJ switched up his game and before I knew it, we were all standing on the sofa (tables for some too), throwing our hands in the air and basically shooting a potential Hip Hop video lol. It was a right laugh and the Russian looking dudes who had their table next to us joined in on the fun (lucky gits). I still have an ice pack on my feet and neck for trying out some dance stunts that seemed like such a good idea at the time lol.

All in all, Merah is a solid 8 out of 10. Next up, Maya in 2 weeks.....should be sore-free by then. I love London! ;-)

Disclaimer: I was bullied into doing this write up *you know who you are*

Four Weddings

Out of sheer boredom, I found myself taking the "Are you a bridezilla?" quiz on Living TV's website (don't ask! and yes at the time, I didn't even know what the term bridezilla meant). My close friends know I'm more of a watch-it-online kinda girl, something to do with the fact that I watched sooooo much telly at uni, my eyeballs literally went square (kidding lol). Truth is, some shows are simply better on telly and Four Weddings is without a doubt, one of them. As a young lady on the slightly darker side of 20 (i.e. over 24), like most other Nigerian girls my age, I've heard my mum and every other aunt or uncle, tell me the same thing for the last decade; "You are ripe for marriage, when are we coming to drink palm wine?" (major cringe!). Being a very odd person (based on what I've been told lol), I have never actually cared much for weddings i.e. the actual "gra gra" (translation: fuss) of the entire ceremony, like having a monthly subscription to bridal magazines with post-its on "potential wedding dresses" like some single women do (why torture yourself so???), or becoming a renowned wedding crasher just to keep abreast of latest wedding developments, such as who the hottest wedding planner or photographer in town is (lolll people actually do this and keep secret journals too). Having said all this, you can imagine my shock, when I realised I had watched SEVERAL episodes of what is fast becoming my TV Achilles, Four Weddings!!! (4W). It got so good I even attempted to watch Bulging Brides, a US reality TV show that tries to get foul eating brides into shape for their big day. I only lasted 5 minutes before I started counting sheep lol. What a pile of horse dung sheesh! Reality TV is generally retarded in my opinion, BUT 4W rocks! (well discounting the odd gay, naked or vampire themed wedding).

Watching the show and having my mum remind me EVERYDAY that she can't wait to dance to "Yori Yori" at my wedding lol (bless her), has definitely tugged at a nerve I didn't realise I had. It also doesn't help that it's wedding season in London and I absolutely love Yori Yori remix (now that is one song I can see myself dancing to at (dear I say it) my wedding.......eeek!). Thanks to my wedding phobia, I haven't actually given much thought to the practical side of things that could go so wrong at a wedding. Like having a guest arrive in a dress similar to yours but much better.....WHY?? Lol! Or What do you do about your friend's child that keeps making way too much noise at the most important parts of the day? (lolll pure evil!). But these are the sort of questions the quiz asked and things you get to see on 4W (luv it!). Apart from the superficial elements of a wedding, like wanting to look like a Barbie bride (still don't get this), having 10 different entertainers at your reception (why share the limelight hello!) and so many other random things that bridezillas insist on having at their weddings, there is a rather beautiful and emotional element of wedding ceremonies, especially the vows which I've sometimes teared up at (shame). The best moments in 4W include: watching the bride walk down the aisle with her father, the couple's first kiss, their first dance, the cultural weddings (so far I've witnessed a Turkish/Russian/Nigerian/Indian/Irish/English wedding) and seeing family and friends celebrating the union. Thanks to 4W, I can bravely say I'm slowly overcoming my phobia and best of all, the test revealed I am NO bridezilla (much to my amazement as bridezillas are blatantly control freaks that obsess about every little detail of their wedding.......sounds a lot like me in my every day life minus the wedding lol). My result said: Sensible and level-headed in adversity. Frankly, the world would be a better place if you were the one being elected Prime Minister next month. Hello Downing Street and umm wedding bells! *shy face*