Okay so I love my new city! Toronto Rocks, ‘coz in Summer they have free concerts down by the Harbour Front and last night was Femi Kuti, son of the world renowned Fela Kuti. I was out with my great friends F, V and T, and then we ran into other friends C, T and B! And for at least two hours last night we literally became Nigerian. From Lagos specifically! Femi taught us expressions like “reverse back very well” and reminded us of things we can’t possibly miss about the Motherland like lack of electricity and abundance of mosquitoes.
I couldn’t believe how much fun we were having!
It was like we were high on something!
Perhaps it was the warm sunny weather,
Perhaps it was the company of awesome friends,
Perhaps it was the fact that the concert was free,
Or perhaps it was the second-hand smoke from the guy-in-the-eighth-spot-of-the-twenty-seventh-row-near-the-third-aisle’s potent spliff! I’m telling you that joint was enough to bring Bob Marley back to life!
It didn’t take me long to realize that we were mainly high on the music. Even though we couldn’t hear or understand most of the words, the beat is a universal language. It transcends not just economic and social boundaries, but also time, moods and feelings.
We ate good greasy food and washed it down with equally high-calorie summer cocktails and then we jived until said calories melted into forgotten pools on the concrete below.
Femi finished the concert with a bang! Literally his song Bang Bang Bang, and a quick lesson on the art of making love – see title.
And we all danced home shouting: Ala la la la! Alo lo lo lo!
And from me to you:
“When you get the chance to sit it out or dance,”
Shake your booty!!
Monday, July 6, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Energy Transferred
I watched a movie today, which said ‘romantics are addicts.’ Well I’ve quit. Cold Turkey. I refuse to rely on the presence of romance for my happiness! Shoes will suffice! And sunshine, and music, and art, and food, and anything that spontaneously exhilarates me! Anything that ignites a passion in me.
I have many memories of when I thought I was in love, and they evoke that passion…even though it was long ago, and I never could understand why the memories meant so much; because I knew I had changed, and I knew I didn’t want to be back there.
And I realized that as I grow, as I evolve, passion remains a constant, it is merely transferred from one entity to the next.
Once I was passionate about boy bands and sitcoms.
Yesterday I was passionate about yams and real estate.
Today I am passionate about the Grimsby sun on my brown skin and Afro kink.
Tomorrow and beyond, I do not know – the only thing certain is that there will be Passion.
I have many memories of when I thought I was in love, and they evoke that passion…even though it was long ago, and I never could understand why the memories meant so much; because I knew I had changed, and I knew I didn’t want to be back there.
And I realized that as I grow, as I evolve, passion remains a constant, it is merely transferred from one entity to the next.
Once I was passionate about boy bands and sitcoms.
Yesterday I was passionate about yams and real estate.
Today I am passionate about the Grimsby sun on my brown skin and Afro kink.
Tomorrow and beyond, I do not know – the only thing certain is that there will be Passion.
Friday, May 22, 2009
The Zygote Diaries – Trey
Every time I feel old, I think of how long my parents have been married, and I realize I am not that old! I think to myself, I don’t even know myself as well as my parents know each other, because I have only known myself for about 28 years! The crazy thing is that I can’t imagine knowing anyone for that long! And then living with them, and then making things and building things with them, until you know them better than you knew yourself before they were around!
It’s been a crazy week – with me trying to figure out exactly what it is that appeals to me in the context of a romantic, life-partner type of situation. If you know me, then you know that the energy it takes to fuel this kind of topic in my brain would put the atomic bomb to shame! But after I have taken the roller coaster ride in my head, checked virtual lists and had schizophrenic debates with me, myself and I; and I’ve gone from one extreme to another and back again…about 18 times, as usual, my source grounds me.
They were married 32 years ago today, and as my source, they are the epitome of trust, confidence, certainty and love to me.
And on the ground, I realize that this kind of thing needs energy.
But if there is any doubt about whether you want to put all your energy into it or not…it probably isn’t worth it.
So, the zygote says, Happy Anniversary Baz and Phil, and in the meantime, I will happily continue preparing scrumptious dinners for one!
It’s been a crazy week – with me trying to figure out exactly what it is that appeals to me in the context of a romantic, life-partner type of situation. If you know me, then you know that the energy it takes to fuel this kind of topic in my brain would put the atomic bomb to shame! But after I have taken the roller coaster ride in my head, checked virtual lists and had schizophrenic debates with me, myself and I; and I’ve gone from one extreme to another and back again…about 18 times, as usual, my source grounds me.
They were married 32 years ago today, and as my source, they are the epitome of trust, confidence, certainty and love to me.
And on the ground, I realize that this kind of thing needs energy.
But if there is any doubt about whether you want to put all your energy into it or not…it probably isn’t worth it.
So, the zygote says, Happy Anniversary Baz and Phil, and in the meantime, I will happily continue preparing scrumptious dinners for one!
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Para Una por favor!
I never realized just how Tex-Mexican I am until today.
I woke up with the excitement of celebration. It was like a Mariachi band awakened me from my slumber and followed me around all day reminding me that sometime soon, my tongue would experience the fiery vociferous flavor of jalapeño, flirting with the breezy bashful taste of cilantro in a salsa dance that would make “the stars” on that dancing show drool. I could hardly keep still going about my Tuesday activities, shimmying on the bus, swishing my hips on the train.
Toronto must have thought I was crazy! If only they knew, that no matter where she goes, she takes the craving for fajitas and margaritas on Cinco de Mayo, with her!
I woke up with the excitement of celebration. It was like a Mariachi band awakened me from my slumber and followed me around all day reminding me that sometime soon, my tongue would experience the fiery vociferous flavor of jalapeño, flirting with the breezy bashful taste of cilantro in a salsa dance that would make “the stars” on that dancing show drool. I could hardly keep still going about my Tuesday activities, shimmying on the bus, swishing my hips on the train.
Toronto must have thought I was crazy! If only they knew, that no matter where she goes, she takes the craving for fajitas and margaritas on Cinco de Mayo, with her!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
The Break-up.
I decided to break up with the loves of my life. Yes, I meant it to be plural…I have been carrying on several simultaneous affairs over the past ten years. It was a very difficult thing for me to face the reality that these guys really were not adding to my life at all, but more importantly, they were taking away from it. I was spending way too much money and time on them, trying to uphold a lifestyle that was pretty much ruining my health. The crazy thing is that I have always known that they were no good for me, I just wanted to have a little more fun for a little longer. What can I say? I guess I fell for bad guys.
I couldn’t bear the thought of repeating my story to each one of them and breaking my heart each time, so I decided to employ the band-aid tactic, and tell them all at once. After considering many different locations for a meeting place, I decided the best location was right here in my apartment. A place which I had shared with each of them to the point that they all felt at home here, but a place which was free of any other distractions that might make the breakup any harder than it already was.
Since none of the guys drive, I told them I would pick them all up after work on a Friday. I really felt like I was in control of the situation. I knew each of their little tactics. I had literally meditated on them the night before, so I wouldn’t be caught off guard if any of the guys tried to appeal to my emotions.
There was Jose, whose very name made me weak in the knees, Johnny, who I had only really had a one night stand with, but whom I constantly flirted with, because that one night was so hot. It would seem like I was only attracted to the guys with names beginning with J, but there was the ultimate gentleman, so cool that he went by the initials C.R. like he was the lead role in an eighties soap opera; and then of course my first love, first heartbreak, first everything was Jack.
The guys were silent as I drove back to my apartment. No doubt they were uncomfortable. Over the years I had been very careful not to mix their schedules up so that for the most part they never ran into each other. It was a complex, but necessary juggling act so I could keep my sanity, and of course, to avoid a major brawl which would certainly have made me, as the instigator, very sick.
I sat them all around my coffee table and laid my heart in front of them. I told them that I had had a wonderful ride this past decade, sharing memories, visiting various cities or just relaxing at home. Jose, the most light-hearted of all sat there with a wry grin, taking in my every word. His sheer zest for life made him confident that someone else would snatch him up in no time. My heart ached as I realized how much I would miss dancing with him.
Johnny was apathetic, barely holding my gaze as I spoke. If it wasn’t for his tall lean structure, we might not have noticed he was present. I shook off the creeping feelings of hurt. It was, after all, just one night. C.R. seemed like he was ready for a change of scene. Always dressed sharp in purple, to define his broad shoulders, he always attracted, with the smoothest sexiness. He had never been rough with me, just super smooth and satisfying. Those qualities I would definitely miss.
As I turned to look at Jack, something caught my eye in the corner. It was Martin. I gave a little yelp. He was looking at me in the most accusing manner, because I hadn’t invited him. For the life of me I didn’t know how he had gotten in. Martin and I had had such a bad falling out many years ago, that I had resorted to calling him by his last name in an effort to place as much distance as possible between us.
I decided to ignore his leer and focus my attention on the one that truly mattered…Jack.
Jack had not moved or spoken since we had come to the apartment. He had been staring at the same invisible spot on my coffee table from the moment I had started talking. I yearned to know what was going through his mind. Jack had been there from the beginning. We had shared everything. He had stood by me and helped me grow from a girl into a woman and I really couldn’t imagine what life would be like without him. Of all the guys, my relationship with Jack had been the most passionate. He had taken me to highs I had never dreamed possible and had brought me to depths that I thought would literally suffocate me. I knew my parameters of strength and weakness because of him.
“Jack,” I choked. “Please say something.”
I felt my heart shatter to pieces as his gaze pierced mine.
He stood up.
His square physique enveloped in a black tee.
Then suddenly, his face crumpled into many different emotions as he bellowed,
“What I want to know is, if this is a break-up party, where the fuck is Hennessy?!”
I couldn’t bear the thought of repeating my story to each one of them and breaking my heart each time, so I decided to employ the band-aid tactic, and tell them all at once. After considering many different locations for a meeting place, I decided the best location was right here in my apartment. A place which I had shared with each of them to the point that they all felt at home here, but a place which was free of any other distractions that might make the breakup any harder than it already was.
Since none of the guys drive, I told them I would pick them all up after work on a Friday. I really felt like I was in control of the situation. I knew each of their little tactics. I had literally meditated on them the night before, so I wouldn’t be caught off guard if any of the guys tried to appeal to my emotions.
There was Jose, whose very name made me weak in the knees, Johnny, who I had only really had a one night stand with, but whom I constantly flirted with, because that one night was so hot. It would seem like I was only attracted to the guys with names beginning with J, but there was the ultimate gentleman, so cool that he went by the initials C.R. like he was the lead role in an eighties soap opera; and then of course my first love, first heartbreak, first everything was Jack.
The guys were silent as I drove back to my apartment. No doubt they were uncomfortable. Over the years I had been very careful not to mix their schedules up so that for the most part they never ran into each other. It was a complex, but necessary juggling act so I could keep my sanity, and of course, to avoid a major brawl which would certainly have made me, as the instigator, very sick.
I sat them all around my coffee table and laid my heart in front of them. I told them that I had had a wonderful ride this past decade, sharing memories, visiting various cities or just relaxing at home. Jose, the most light-hearted of all sat there with a wry grin, taking in my every word. His sheer zest for life made him confident that someone else would snatch him up in no time. My heart ached as I realized how much I would miss dancing with him.
Johnny was apathetic, barely holding my gaze as I spoke. If it wasn’t for his tall lean structure, we might not have noticed he was present. I shook off the creeping feelings of hurt. It was, after all, just one night. C.R. seemed like he was ready for a change of scene. Always dressed sharp in purple, to define his broad shoulders, he always attracted, with the smoothest sexiness. He had never been rough with me, just super smooth and satisfying. Those qualities I would definitely miss.
As I turned to look at Jack, something caught my eye in the corner. It was Martin. I gave a little yelp. He was looking at me in the most accusing manner, because I hadn’t invited him. For the life of me I didn’t know how he had gotten in. Martin and I had had such a bad falling out many years ago, that I had resorted to calling him by his last name in an effort to place as much distance as possible between us.
I decided to ignore his leer and focus my attention on the one that truly mattered…Jack.
Jack had not moved or spoken since we had come to the apartment. He had been staring at the same invisible spot on my coffee table from the moment I had started talking. I yearned to know what was going through his mind. Jack had been there from the beginning. We had shared everything. He had stood by me and helped me grow from a girl into a woman and I really couldn’t imagine what life would be like without him. Of all the guys, my relationship with Jack had been the most passionate. He had taken me to highs I had never dreamed possible and had brought me to depths that I thought would literally suffocate me. I knew my parameters of strength and weakness because of him.
“Jack,” I choked. “Please say something.”
I felt my heart shatter to pieces as his gaze pierced mine.
He stood up.
His square physique enveloped in a black tee.
Then suddenly, his face crumpled into many different emotions as he bellowed,
“What I want to know is, if this is a break-up party, where the fuck is Hennessy?!”
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Project Runway Junkie
I am a Project Runway Junkie. It doesn’t work for me to watch it each week though, I can’t handle it, so I wait until the season is over and then I sit down, ignore all calls and watch back to back episodes of it. And I won’t stop, until I have watched all twelve or so episodes and my eyes are blood shot and all I have eaten is cereal and yogurt for three days and I have 38 emails to reply and 14 calls to return…okay, so my time is not as coveted by other people as all that, but if it was, I really wouldn’t be accessible!
It is such sweet torture to listen to Iman try and articulate instructions, praises, opinions and criticisms to the designers and judges. I know she is multilingual, but somehow when she speaks English, even though she has been married to a British guy for a while now, it sounds like five people from different countries did simultaneous voice over work and all their accents come through! I have so much respect for Iman, who she is, what she has done, and continues to do, as a humanitarian and a fierce African woman, but I seriously burn about 80 calories a minute trying to decipher her words! Maybe if I keep watching, I will soon fit into the little dolls’ dresses the designers make! Well, maybe if I don’t snack while I watch:).
It is such sweet torture to listen to Iman try and articulate instructions, praises, opinions and criticisms to the designers and judges. I know she is multilingual, but somehow when she speaks English, even though she has been married to a British guy for a while now, it sounds like five people from different countries did simultaneous voice over work and all their accents come through! I have so much respect for Iman, who she is, what she has done, and continues to do, as a humanitarian and a fierce African woman, but I seriously burn about 80 calories a minute trying to decipher her words! Maybe if I keep watching, I will soon fit into the little dolls’ dresses the designers make! Well, maybe if I don’t snack while I watch:).
Thursday, March 19, 2009
TIDD
People should not be allowed to drunken dial on their birthday!...or ever! It may be fun when you are doing it, but it is not fun for the recipient, especially if they are not equally intoxicated. It is mighty stressful! The other day my friend, we’ll affectionately call him The Idiot Drunken Dialer aka TIDD, decides to call me at around 3am after a night out celebrating his arrival on planet Earth. The first five minutes of the conversation are much like most of our conversations, but suddenly he throws in a “What would you say if I asked you to be my girlfriend right now?”
Excuse me? Where is all this coming from?! TIDD reassuringly tells me to go ahead and be honest, because he can take it. On my part, I know the answer, but hesitate to give it on the night of his birthday in case it becomes a bad memory for birthdays to come! I am highly stressed. “What brought this on?” I ask. TIDD says he has always felt it, but has never really known how to approach me…apparently half a dozen glass mugs of bubbly, amber liquid did the trick! But for those of you who might be planning on approaching me or most gals, let me tell you, in this situation, THE BEER IS NOT YOUR FRIEND! THE BEER GIVES YOU FALSE ENCOURAGEMENT! THE BEER IS OUT TO MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE A FOOL! If you can’t remember anything else, try your hardest to remember this fact before you scroll down your contact list and make that call!
TIDD challenges me, “Go ahead and tell me I’m like a brother to you,” and then he proceeds to map out the journey of our friendship and all the corners and turns and forks that meant more to him than I ever imagined, including various indicators to show that we were meant to be. I make a mental note never to answer calls at 3am again, take a deep breath and begin my spiel.
I tell TIDD that I love our friendship the way it is and that I wouldn’t like to change it at the risk of messing it up. I tell him too, that my heart is really not available right now, because I am focusing on me, and I choose my words carefully to make sure he understands that it is not him, but it’s me, and I love him so much as a friend!
And the phone is silent.
And I say his name…
TIDD?
…there is no answer.
TIDD is this a joke?
…still no answer.
I hang up the phone and call back…
…straight to his voice mail.
The next day I ask him what happened. His response: “Oh, the sleeping pill I had taken, must have kicked in and I fell asleep.”
And we never talk about it again.
Excuse me? Where is all this coming from?! TIDD reassuringly tells me to go ahead and be honest, because he can take it. On my part, I know the answer, but hesitate to give it on the night of his birthday in case it becomes a bad memory for birthdays to come! I am highly stressed. “What brought this on?” I ask. TIDD says he has always felt it, but has never really known how to approach me…apparently half a dozen glass mugs of bubbly, amber liquid did the trick! But for those of you who might be planning on approaching me or most gals, let me tell you, in this situation, THE BEER IS NOT YOUR FRIEND! THE BEER GIVES YOU FALSE ENCOURAGEMENT! THE BEER IS OUT TO MAKE YOU LOOK LIKE A FOOL! If you can’t remember anything else, try your hardest to remember this fact before you scroll down your contact list and make that call!
TIDD challenges me, “Go ahead and tell me I’m like a brother to you,” and then he proceeds to map out the journey of our friendship and all the corners and turns and forks that meant more to him than I ever imagined, including various indicators to show that we were meant to be. I make a mental note never to answer calls at 3am again, take a deep breath and begin my spiel.
I tell TIDD that I love our friendship the way it is and that I wouldn’t like to change it at the risk of messing it up. I tell him too, that my heart is really not available right now, because I am focusing on me, and I choose my words carefully to make sure he understands that it is not him, but it’s me, and I love him so much as a friend!
And the phone is silent.
And I say his name…
TIDD?
…there is no answer.
TIDD is this a joke?
…still no answer.
I hang up the phone and call back…
…straight to his voice mail.
The next day I ask him what happened. His response: “Oh, the sleeping pill I had taken, must have kicked in and I fell asleep.”
And we never talk about it again.
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