Something other than jewellery this time// Current Brain thoughts...

 

 

Mawnin'. Lifted a couple of things off the tumblr this fine day to show you wonderful people where my mind is right now. 

1. Being inspired is the first step. But staying inspired is the hardest part of being a creative. Looking forward to finding out what exactly I want to do with my life (and the degree I am about to finish which I have no passion for whatsoever.. *welp*)

2. Travel. Travel. Travel. And travel some more. I envisage myself in a little European house such as that above. I'm a bit obsessed with quaintness, if you haven't figured that out already.

3. Not only do I wanna BE them, I just want to watch more 50s movies. And fashion myself as one of these radiant women. Oh, the life.

4. Just YES. More art, more life. YES.

5. Because I am the world's biggest, most obese time waster. 2013 is a year of change, my fellow citizens of Gotham.

6. *giggles* just for the darned cuteness of it all.

7. And, in conclusion, LIVE happy. THINK happy. BE HAPPY. #lifemantra2013

Ahhh... And I managed to post something other than jewellery! Yesss! Lol... 

Tootraa!

xxx

It's a miracle!...

So... It seems I am back at this blogging thing. One minute my posts are sporadic, next minute, I'm posting, like, daily. Weird stuff.

Anyhoos. As you may/may not be aware, someone/something has sent us Brits some sun, albeit randomly, given that we are supposed to be ushering autumn in and getting ready for winter. But alas, the weather has remained within the 25-28 degrees range. AND I'M LIKE A KID IN A CANDY STORE! Youuuch! I have milked it all in these past few days, so, should our luck change tomorrow, I won't be as grumpy as usual about the gloomy British weather...

Not to mention, my hair just decided to be all fabulous and look all pretty and whatnot. Ahhhh I know some people find taking care of their 'fros so tedious and... well... tedious, but I kinda like it. Never have I taken so much care of my hair before. So I'm lovin' it! (Yup... McDonalds theme tune indeed)


Plus, my hair has groooown! I was playing with it and doing all these updos and whatnot... and my my myyyy am I happy or what!

Daily haircare routine:

Up until recently it was just shea butter, and then a spray bottle containing water and olive oil. But nowww! ohh I have stepped up you know, my spray bottle now contains carrot oil, tea tree oil, and castor oil as well as the olive oil and water. My hair be lookin' all shinyyyy!
Oh, plus I have this coconut and almond leave in conditioner from Boots as well. I feel like a true 'naturalista' now!


Okay... That is all for now I guess.

Shmoodle-oo!

Current Een-spee-ray-shunz.....

Currently inspired by... Well. Life really. Lifestyles, people, individuality, rainbows, sunshine, Old ladies' wardrobes, granny sandals, AFROs (always), music (you knowwww wha'a mean?), wise words, silly faces, happiness... Just everything.Oh, and BLACK LIPSTICK. Yowzzers. I've realised that the world has a lot to offer if you just open your eyes to the various possibilities. 'Tis truly a wonderful experience.

Shmoodle-ooo!

Best Blogger Award? Me? *reddens*...

Haaa, this post is so late. But it has made its way here, so...

Yeahhh... Okay. So the lovely Mbabazi of unsung dots tagged my little ole self in one of these cool award things that only cool bloggers give out to other cool bloggers... (LOL. Me? Blogger? Urm... Well, I do own a blog, so... )

ANYWAYS! Yeah. I got an award. And with it comes the requisition of letting blogsphere know seven things about you... So, here goes. Sorry if you already know this/do not care in the slightest/ get tired of the verbose essay which I am about to unleash upon you...

1. My name is... Okay, no. That just seems stifled and stuffy to start with my name.

1. *Take two* I have always, ALWAYS wanted to be a powerpuff girl. Laugh all you want, but this dream has followed me all the way through my childhood, up until this moment. There was something so magical about Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup that made me constantly yearn to be the fourth member of their group. Had my outfit colour picked out and everything.

2. I have watched the Prince of Egypt SO MANY TIMES, that I even know the musical sequence. It used to be bad enough that I had memorised the whole dialogue, but, upon watching it for the upteenth time sometime ago, I have now realised that I know how the little musical fillers go. Sad, but there you have it. Aaron to Moses when he is being told that he is actually an Israelite: "Go ask the man you call father" . Classic moment.

3. My hormones let me know yesterday that I am quite healthily attracted to Ronald Weasley. You heard it here first, homies. *flutters eyelashes* 

4. I have this dream (Of which, my brain is filled with loads of them) of owning a boulangerie in the South of France or Italy, whilst living in one of those French maisonettes or the brightly painted Italian houses in a neighbourhood steeped in picturesque culture. Oh, and I would have a dog named superwoof. Or something moronic like that. I would live such a happy life, so happy that one day, whilst churning the butter to be used to make my mouth watering, world conquering croissants, I meet the most beautifully sculpted man who will sweep me off my feet right there and then and ask me for my hand in marriage. Yes, the imagery in my dream is THIS VIVID.

5. I am a Christian, in case nobody already figured that out. I try to live by the ethos of the Bible. Sometimes I think, ahhh screw it all, I want to live 'life' and participate in the mind blowing, fun experiences that my generation engage in. My impulses are very short lived, however. Not out of guilt or some latent puritanical streak I possess, merely by thoroughly watching and addressing that which is seemingly FUN and eye catching and realising that such earth shattering experiences are not actually to my taste. For this, I have only the Holy Spirit to thank.

6. Added to the spiritual mumbo jumbo, I would like to think that the only thing unique about me as a person is my dynamic relationship with God. Not that it's ANYWHERE near perfect, but I am trying, nonetheless.

7. Apparently I am a bit of a loner? Oh well. With such a vivid imagination as mine, who needs actual friends? Lawwl. I kid, I joke.

Yeahhh, this has been wayyyy fun, and wayyyy long. Sorry!

Now to tag other people who kick serious blogging ass and whose blogs are seeped in awesomeness...

Well, really, all you loverly blogs I frequently stalk are ALL the best! So please, do this. I love reading blog posts. I reaaaaallly enjoy the reading part, in case I have not mentioned that before.

Toodles!!!

xoxo

Feel Like a Lady, and you my Lady Boy...

Urm... The pictures are rather self explanatory, no?

Okay... Perhaps they might not be. I just wanted to let you seeee my latest ring-session, as I am ringsessed.  And they are all courtesy of Lottie's Attik!!!! Such unique rings ehh? And S for Seyi... Cool, hunnhh? *bats eyelashes*




Annnnd, during my aimless wandering in the town centre, I stumbled upon this gem of a book!!! I love me a good poem. Well... all things in the geeky spectrum. It's got 365 poems in it for everyday. I don't mind!


Well, that seems to be all for now, except I am beginning to get excited for Christmas already. I am a Christmas FIEND. So do not be alarmed that my festive spirit is already dusting off its debris and getting ready to see the light of day...

Urm, okay, I shall be on my way.

Toodles!

*Title from Amy's 'You should be Stronger than Me' 

"I forgot to remember to forget"... Random loose ends in my brain...

Random things floating around my head at the minute. I'm a happy birdie also, BECAUSE I JUST CHECKED AND FOUND OUT I PASSED MY EXAMS! 

Perhaps I should re-iterate. In larger words this time...

I PASSED MY EXAMS! 

It's quite a surreal experience for me, considering I was konked out after both exams from crying so much. Serious storybook moment type tears. One of those days was my birthday. Sad times. However, I have passed! This further proves my belief and utter clarity in the existence of a deity who wants the best for me. That deity, ladies and froggies, is GOD! Thank himmmm on my behalf, if you would please? Thank you.

Well. Now this news has undoubtedly driven me over the edge of happiness/ecstasy/ immense elation, so I decided to blog about it. Because that is what you do, after you've called your parents to scream the exciting news down the phone and they're not picking up. 

Ladies and orangutans, you simply blog about it! It makes you feel like someone cool. Trust me on this one. *winks*

Ooookay. So. Things in my head right now, other than London Fashio... 

- OH WAIT!!! It's Milan Fashion Week now as well!!!! So. As we're rounding up LFW, I shall be embarking upon posts from MFW! How splendid and utterly marvellous!

I simply wanted to come on here to gush about these photographs I've been accumulating from various tumblrs in cyberspace. So let's get to it.

1. June Ambrose and her outrageous turbans... love. 2. Granny glasses. Bold earrings... Gold earrings. Gold everything... pink lipstick. :D  3. GirlCrush! She rocked that hair, can't nobody tell me nothin' different, yo. 4. YaYa - AfroCrush/GirlCrush2/hairspiration. Watch this space for my 'fro journey story soon. 5. Crop tops, skinnies, DMs, mahoosive hair and SUNSHINE. All that's missing is Boris Kodjoe, and this photograph would be complete. 6. DMs have my heart for now. Embarking on having a whole collection of Docs. Sit in anticipation and watch my collection grow. 

I've said enough for now. I really thought this post was going to be me whacking a bunch of pictures on here, saying hello and saying goodbye.

Buuuutttt.... Yeah.

Aloha.

xoxo! 

Autumn, is it? ...

At this precise moment, it is 53days, 13 hours and 16 minutes till Christmas! *insert loudest screams of the loudest wavelength and at a frequency made for only whale's ears*

I really cannot explain to you why December (Well. My Christmas starts from October actually. Sue me. I'm just an excited human, okay?) unleashes my inner kid or inner weird, depending on what manner of person you are. Apart from the fact that it symbolises the time of Jesus's birth, and I'm a Jesus person, which automatically validates my excited, over-exaggerated love showing during this time of the year. YEEESSSS! 

Sidebar: Am I the only one that is wondering how the hell... I mean, heck, we're in December already? It was January like, only yesterday. Hellllllp!*

But yeah. Hello everybody out there. Christmas is coming!! Which means watching Home Alone whilst home, alone (my wit astounds even me, you know!), Love Actually wholly in anticipation of the 'All I want for Christmas' song at the end, This Christmas (I cried the first time I watched that. Why, I cannot tell you) and inhaling cheesy Christmas music. Literally. Cheesy Christmas songs are just heart warming. As is mulled wine, after a hefty Christmas dinner. Oh cheese strings, I cannot wait! 

    What would make Christmas so exciting this year would be my dreams of a White Christmas actually occurring. Last year, it was white, except the white was from two days ago. So the'white' was really, murky browny white...  The year before that, it was a white Boxing Day. Dear God, please let it snow this Christmas when I'm inside and warm in my daddy's wellie thermal socks... and *insert other warm items*.

Whilst looking warm is a priority during winter/Christmas, dressing like a Christmas tree is highly important. At least for me it is. Looking like a Christmas tree is always a good look, for starters. Prancing about in colourful clothing is a definite. Overload of jewellery, yes. And by God, layering is ultimate. Seeing as I am somewhat averse to keeping my coat on, or wearing it, for that matter....

Anyhoozies... Here goes. The Christmas look... Inspired by the cast of Annie, Esmeralda from The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Vintagey wagey clothing (as always), Christmas trees, and Flower power... I'm sure there are other things, but my memory fails me now... Ohhh Ohhh... and the granny look a la Prada 2010 fall/winter something something...

[source]

  ...Because everybody loves Annie.

...Love love love love loooove the jewellery pile on. Smantastically wonderful!

[source]

                

Okay. Um. So byyyyye! Happy new month!!!! I month till Christmasssss!!!!

"...For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given. And the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace." Isaiah 9:6 

Tooooodles!
xoxo

Colour Genius. Fashion Icon. Style diva.

I really, REALLY, do not get why people have failed to grasp the unrefined artistry and creativity with which Betty Suarez puts an outfit together. No one dresses like Betty. I've tried to pull off that Betty 'swag' (for lack of another word to describe her uniqueness), and failed. I'm talking the kind of failure where you get points deducted from your exam paper because you cannot even spell your own name right. I know. So I decided to stop being Betty and start being me.

At least, i'm trying these days not to conform to what is expected of me. And I owe Betty Suarez for helping me come to such a vital, epiphanic realisation about myself. And that epiphany is just well, that I should do me, regardless of the consequences. Unle..ss you know, doing you means becoming a sociopath or whatever. Then please do hesitate, think AND refrain from killing that little doggie that went out to play (This is what happens when you let my imagination do the talking...)

But I digress again. Back to Betty.

[source]

  

How can you slate her? Alright. The Guadalajara poncho thing shall remain unnoticed and unspoken of, because well. I'm guessing she was cold and having a bad day, as we all are prone to having.  Probably due to Henry the big fat octopus. Can I get an amen?

And now the whole world is infatuated with vintage all of a sudden, and charity shops are becoming 'thrift stores', and we're all 'geek chicks' and nerdy bookworms. Isn't that amazing. Hence my main problem with the fashion world, or sect shall we call it, since models are still getting salary raises and designer clothes are still in heavy demand DESPITE our economic recline (hello? Am I missing something here? or is this credit crunch hoo ha just a silly hoax?). These people obviously live somewhere else and have a different bank system operating. Hmmm. And these fashionistas/judge panel feel the need to tell you what to wear, how to wear it, how not to wear purple once summer is here, and how grey lipstick is a must have to be an IT - idiot this season. You can tell this philosophy divides my inner core into little subsections and then proceeds to irritate each subsection. How unfortunate.

Anyhowzers, if you have not thought about how smarmazing (Apologies. I cannot seem to get 'Funny Face' off my head since like, forever... 'Swonderful, Smarvellous'...) Betty is, I suggest you do NOW. And be amazed at her fierce sense of self, and her individualism. That is a serious order.

Thanks for listening, (or perhaps not)

Shoulda woulda coulda gonna trya come  back soon! :)

*Christmastime SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!
xoxo

'It seemed to her such nonsense - inventing differences, when people, heaven knows, were different enough without that. '

So, I have this crazy habit of publishing a post and then viewing it once it has been published on ze blog. And I realised something. This blog is really, going nowhere. It has no beginning, no precise message; sometimes it is about art, other times it is pretty much about nothing. Which is more often than not. And then I start thinking about what exactly the main essence, if you like, this blog of mine is about, who exactly it resonates with, and why the hell... I mean heck, I keep writing on here. 

Sorry for being rude. Hello, happy Sunday everyone. Hope you are feeling fine. I want to make you happy... Sorry, again. Singing a song in writing? Weirdness. 

 Erm. As I was saying in writing, I am still trying to figure out where exactly this blog is going. And considering the fact that I am possibly, the world's worst planner-aheader (sorry. But if Shakespeare could make up words, then so can I), I still cannot tell you where I want this thing to go. Which pretty much sums up my little life. And no, this does not mean that I don't have direction or whatever the Dalai Lama would call my situation. In my case, I think this lack of "direction" stems from being a dabbler. Yes. That is what I would like to think it is. I dabble. A lot.

You see, I am a chronic learner. I want to know it all. But not in an arrogant, I-have-to-know-everything-so-I-can-show-you-how-much-better-I-am-than-you kind of quest for knowledge, more like, my mind just yearns for constant information (At least I hope I am not arrogant. If I seem that way, then please, do forgive me). I want to see things like the Ancient Roman Ruins and Michelangelo's 'David', and stand there for ages taking awful tourist-y pictures and appreciate Michelangelo's bravery, for hacking off the part of his sculpture that drew the most attention. I want to walk along a Parisian side walk and buy pain au chocolat from a real French boulangerie; speak the little French I can remember and have the locals make awful fun of me. I want to go to Italy, and marvel at the sheer sophistication of Italian ladies and eat real pesto. And learn how to sew properly, and possibly, how to work a camera. And soak in as much of Gaudi and Salvador Dali as my brain would let me in Spain. And meet Miuiccia Prada and Anna Dello Russo, because I still haven't met a woman who has leopard print wallpaper in her home, and wears a daring lacy number like she did and still be on my 'Women That I Respect list'. Miuiccia, because, despite my vehement dislike of her fall 2010 shoes, I can understand it from an 'artistic' perspective. But her quirk works for me, so much so that I would not mind if my wedding dress were covered in a million nude women. LOL. My mother would hyperventilate of humiliation, were that to happen.

Erm. Cobra shoes? I think i'll pass. They'd look nice to hang my jewellery on however. (MiuMiu, fall 2010; style.com)

There are, obviously, countless other things I want. Flimsy little things like owning a puppy named Daffodil, a little kitten (Still unsure of what I would call it), as well as living in Peru whilst tending to dolphins. Oh, and a couple of goldfish as well. Quite a couple, actually. Goldfish make me happy. However, these things do not technically, fit the stereotypical characteristics of a person who is at university studying Pharmacy, do they? No, they do not. My university friends look at me surprisingly and annoyingly when I have my momentous outbursts about supposedly flimsy topics, or when I sit for hours reading out '1920s: A complete account of the Jazz Age' aloud whilst we're trying to study genetics. Even my mother and brother look at me with bewilderment most of the time. And, although I have come to the conclusion that I am a bit on the weird side, I cannot help but wonder why it is that I feel so passionate about things that others do not care the slightest bit about, or why others seem to assume that the reason behind one's "difference" if I may call it so, is simply a questfor attention.

Altogether, I guess what the main point of yet another pointless rant is that no one is as we expect them to be. No one is everybody, if that makes sense. It made more sense in my head than written down. What I mean, is that ultimately, there are no two people on earth who are alike in every way possible anyway, not even identical twins. Difference is an inherent trait in humans, so much so that we cannot comprehend who we ourselves are really, yet try to understand others and explain who THEY are. I do not know what exactly it is that has caused such heavy sentiment on my part; maybe because I have lived a big chunk of my life trying to be someone I am not in the hopes that I please everyone. Maybe it is because I am so scared that the path of life is not straightforward and this lack of direction terrifies the hell.. I mean heck out of me. Or maybe I am, like every other twenteen (nineteen and eight months, to be precise) year old teenage-adult out there in the world, coming to the realisation that life is one mystical bubble of mixed experiences. I really do not know what it is. But what I do know is this: I am glad that I am finding out, slowly but surely where I fit into in this world.

...I guess this is another lesson this long, sometimes hot summer has taught me also. That I am the only ME, there is. Or something.

Oh, and, once I have figured out where this blog is going, I shall be excited to tell you. But right now, it's going with the wind. Do bear with me.

Laterwafer!

xoxo

* Title- excerpt from Virginia Woolf; 'To the Lighthouse'. 

'What's wrong? Is it your dysmenorrhea? It's your dysmenorrhea right? '...

Erm (with stressed emphasis on the r'...). Hi.


It is probable that whoever stumbles upon this blog/ masterpiece of articulated nothings will think of me as none other than neurotic. Thank you, if that's what you think! You have officially, made my day.


Unless you know, you really do think I have brain problems, a la the real meaning of the word neurotic. Of which I don't. And thanks for listening to that unnecessary prologue to this post.


Anyhows. I shall begin by (kindly) telling you what 'dysmenorrhea' means. It is the lady's monthly friend, that three - to- five days inconvenience  (yet vitally important for ze baby making) known as our PERIOD. 'Dysmenorrhea', is simply the scientists' way of making 'artistic' people (that is, all people who are not excited about DNA and electromagneticism. Yes, all you hardworking lawyers and the like are artists) feel inferior at our ability to use such irrelevant words on a daily basis when words such as 'period' would suffice. Unfortunate, isn't it? 


What is even more unfortunate is that after hearing your professor use the word 'dysmenorrhea' infinity times during one lecture (whilst making a litany of grammatical errors), you find yourself telling jokes that include the word. And it saddens me that this is what my life is to become in the years to come.

At least this time, the dysmenorrhea joke wasn't mine! No, it was my friend's attempt at making me smile on my 'this is not a good day, why-is-life-so-skittles-and-how-come-no-leprechauns-can-give-me-lucky-gold' day. And did I LOL! So much, because i'm sure he was semi-serious when he asked, more so because a) he   most likely did not want to know about my 'dysmenorrhea' related problems and b) he's just nice and caring like that and was willing to factor my feminine cycle into my unhappiness. And the whole thing got me thinking about the good ol' days when all life was about was;

Playing outdoors half-naked, smothered in Dusting Powder with the neighbours. There were no baby - snatchers or child fondlers to watch out for (Thank God for that... what with me naked and all!)

Waiting for The Flintstones to be on at 7pm and hoping to sneak in two more cartoons before bedtime.

Playing shopkeeper with empty tins and biscuit boxes AND old magazines and newspapers right down to making the damn money to buy our 'goods' with. *Gosh that shop had it all... Hot chocolate, Coffee, Milk... you name it... So who cares if it was in my mother's well kept sitting room? *

Teaching my teddies and dolls how to spell and write their numbers... And beating the crap out of them when they weren't listening *Do NOT even attempt to judge*

Deciding what colour hair bubbles were going to beautify my afro puffs for Sunday School...


Watching Tom&Jerry with such avid concentration for HOURS(I can't watch it for more than ten minutes these days), and wanting to go to Looniversity. Yes.

Well... Enough of the nostalgia. Just writing this is reminding me of the immense, childlike happiness I felt back when there were no 'I wonder if he knows I even exist/why do I like him so much' thoughts on my mind, or 'why the heck am I not in Peru fulfilling my life long dream of grooming dolphins and studying to become a boring 9-5ing pharmacist?'. Or even freaking 'dysmenorrhea'  problems. 

Ugh.

The other day, I spent the better part of two hours talking with a six year old about her favourite things in life (said kid happens to be dysmenorrhea- joker's sister, btw), which includes everything Disney Channel has to offer, and then some. So, the conversation, as you've guessed was of the 'Troy - Gabriella' persuasion... And she told me every. single. detail. about the movies, all three of them, right down to the part where Troy's stuck in a tree talking to Gabriella. And that happiness I'm going on about was so very evident in her voice, that I wanted to be that little kid again, who watched too many cartoons and begged her mother to buy her Oliver Twist when she was seven.  I miss that aspect of my life!

So now, i'm determined to get back to that happy place. Enough of the wallowing, of the feeling sorry for myself and those poor dolphins who could be getting some of my lovin', and all the crap life has to offer in SPADES. Starting from today, hopefully. Yours truly shall get back into society, and actually talk to real people, not just talking to myself on Twitter. 

Amen. Thus, from this, I have decided that i'm going to paint pictures from my happy happy times... Like Tom  & Jerry and all my other favourite cartoon characters for my room at university! So that whenever I feel crappy, I have Wilma's face staring down at me... Or Blossom... Or Shaggy!

I guess the point of 'THIS' is to encourage you to find your happy place as well... or something... Okay? Look for it and have fun with it! Because life is way too short to wallow. Trust me.

Yeah. I should get going now. Too much talkations... Not good eh? Sorry.

Bisous and escargots!

xoxo

white power... black power?

(I feel I should apologise for the lame title... So, sorry.)

It actually does correlate to the post itself this time, however. So perhaps my apology is unnecessary...

Well... Before I forget the purpose of this cheese-fest of a title, I shall get into it. Pleasantries!

Awhile back (well, just at the beginning of summer really. How is it that we are almost in autumn AND it is already almost time to go back to university?), I did something I rarely ever do since joining the social networking site that is facebook and started receiving messages from international psycho-freaks about their intentions to make me their (fourth) wife.

I checked my facebook inbox. And this is monumental for me, as I don't do too well with cyber - freaks and their possible polygamous tendencies, and so I almost never check it Except of course, on this particular day.

And I got this controversy of a message on interracial relationships.

Dear Jamie: I'm sorry but I would like to challenge some of your Black male readers

I am a White female who is engaged to a Black male-good-looking, Educated and loving. I just don't understand a lot of Black females attitudes about our relationship.

My man decided he wanted me because the pickings amongst Black women were slim to none. As he said they were too fat, too loud, too mean, too argumentative, too needy, too materialistic or carrying too much excess baggage.

Before I became engaged, whenever I went out I was constantly approached by Black men, willing to wine and dine me and give me the world. If Black women are so up in arms about us being with their men, why don't they look at themselves and make some changes.

I am tired of the dirty looks I get and snide remarks when we're out in public.. I would like to hear from some Black men about why we are so appealing and coveted by them.

Bryant Gumbel left his wife of 26 years for one of us. Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, the model Tyson Beckford, Montell Williams, Quincy Jones, James Earl Jones, Harry Belafonte, Sydney Poitier, Kofi Anan, Cuba Gooding Jr., Don Cornelius, Berry Gordy, Billy Blanks, Larry Fishburne, Wesley Snipes...

I could go on and on. But, right now, I'm a little angry and that is why I wrote this so hurriedly. Don't be mad with us White women because so many of your men want us. Get your acts together and learn from us and we may lead you to treat your men better. If I'm wrong, Black men, let me know.

Disgusted White Girl, Somewhere in VA

RESPONSE

Dear Jamie: I would like to respond to the letter written by A Disgusted White Girl.

Let me start by saying that I am a 28-year old black man. I graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in Atlanta, Georgia with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Business Management. I have a good job at a major corporation and have recently purchased a house. So, I consider myself to be among the ranks of successful black men.

I will not use my precious time to slander white people. I just want to set the record straight of why black men date white women. Back in the day, one of the biggest reasons why black men dated white women was because they were considered easy.

The black girls in my neighborhood were raised in the church. They were very strict about when they lost their virginity and who they lost it to. Because of our impatience to wait, brothers would look for someone who would give it up easy without too much hassle. So, they turned to the white girls. Nowadays, in my opinion, a lot of brothers date white women because they are docile and easy to control. A lot of black men, because of insecurities, fears, and overall weaknesses, have be come intimidated by the strength of our black women. We are afraid that our woman will be more successful than us, make more money than us, drive nicer cars and own bigger houses. Because of this fear, many black men look for a more docile woman. Someone we can control. I have talked to numerous black men and they continuously comment on how easy it is to control and walk over their white women. I just want to set the record straight. I want A Disgusted White Girl to know that not all successful black men date white women.

Brothers like Ahmad Rashad, Denzel Washington, Michael Jordan, Morris Chestnut, Will Smith, Blair Underwood, Kenneth 'Babyface' Edmonds, Samuel L. Jackson, and Chris Rock all married strong black women And, to flip the script, there are numerous white men, in and out of the spotlight, who openly or secretly desire black women over white women. Ted Danson, Robert DeNiro, and David Bowie and Robin Thicke, to name a few..


I just don't want a disgusted white girl to be misinformed Stop thinking that because you are white that you are some type of goddess.

Remember, when black Egyptian Queens like Hatsepshut and Nitorcris were ruling Dynasties and armies of men in Egypt, you were over in the caves of Europe eating raw meat and beating each other over the head with clubs. Read your history!

It was the black woman that taught you how to cook and season your food. It was the black woman that taught you how to raise your children. It was black women who were breast feeding and raising your babies during slavery.

It is the black woman that had to endure watching their fathers, husbands, and children beaten, killed, and thrown in jail. Black women were born with two strikes against them; being black and being a woman. And, through all this, Still They Rise!

It is because of the black women's strength, elegance, power, love and beauty that I could never date anyone except my black Queen. It is not just the outer beauty that captivates and draws me to them. It is not the fact that they come in all shapes, sizes, colors and shades that I love them.

Their inner beauty is what I find most appealing about black women. Their strong spirit, loving and nurturing souls, their integrity, their ability to overcome great obstacles, their willingness to stand for what they believe in, and their determination to succeed and reach their highest potential while enduring great pain and suffering is why I have fallen in love with black women. I honestly believe that your anger is geared more toward jealousy and envy more so than snotty looks. If this were not so, then why do you continuously go to tanning salons to darken your skin? If you are so proud to be white, then why don't you just be happy with your pale skin? Why do you continue to inject your lips, hips, and breasts with unnatural and dangerous substances so you can look fuller and more voluptuous?

I think that your anger is really a result of you wanting to have what the black woman has.

BOTTOM LINE: If I were looking for a docile woman, someone I can walk over and control, I would give you a call. But, unfortunately, I am looking for a Virtuous Woman. Someone that can be a good wife and mother to my children. Someone who can be my best friend and understands my struggles. I am looking for a soul mate. I am looking for a sister and; unfortunately, you do not and CANNOT fit the bill.

No offense taken, none given. Signed, Black Royalty

This is none other than shambolic. Yes, shambolic. We profess that as humans, we are superior to animals given our heightened intellect and our abilities to THINK rationally, and yet, we get into squabbles such as this? In the twentieth century?


What is most unfortunate about these letters is that, despite relationships being the focus of the argument, there is no mention of LOVE.


You know, the supposed reason why relationships exist? Yes, I say supposed, because due to our primitive way of thinking, we have conjured up this notion that love is confined to the colour of our skin or the pre-imposed stereotypes,and that people are different, MERELY because one's skin is darker or more freckled than the other?


Shambolic.


This is not to say I think I live in a world where unicorns exist and pigs fly and I have a pet tyrannosaurus, and therefore think that the world is beautiful and racism does not exist, because it does. In all kinds of ways; black on white, white on black. It does. Unfortunate as it may be. But racism being interjected into LOVE is terrifying, and wrong on so many different levels. 


So please, cyber world, when an opportunity comes to slate interracial relationships on the BIASED basis that we are culturally different, refer back to the existential purpose of REAL relationships in the first place; an arena for love to be expressed. (note the 'real' there. I'm am leaving room for those who have other... ahem... reasons for being in relationships).


You can tell this whole shenanigan irks my system. Why, you ask? Because! I am a firm believer in the institutional mystery of LOVE! Yes. Call me mushy or whatever, but trying to control love based on flimsy excuses such as skin colour is STUPIDITY. More unfortunate is that people who are deemed 'intelligent' usually fall short of this vital intellectual clarity. 


Added to that is the fact that I am head over heels in love with Chad Michael Murray (Well... Lucas Scott, really) and Ian Somerhalder. At least for now... Ooohhh... And Boris Kodjoe... And Taye Diggs... Um... I'll leave you now...






"There is only one race. And that is the HUMAN race"




*sorry for the longevity of this post, by the way... Ummph*






Well. I have vented, my diatribe is over. It seems I have to go look for something to eat. Like nutella on toast. Yum.


Bye Bye!

xoxo

Umm... Yeah.

Found this on some... Well, this website, and it made me "chock" as my dear twin (You know, the one I keep telling you, whoever reads this, to check her blog? Well her) has succeeded in making the simple, mundane word "chuckle" into something the youth of today like MY cool self can 'be down with'. *shrugs*

I know i'm a geek. No need for the re-iteration, gracias.

Anyhow. I guess the photograph says it all. Except for the fact that it says 'A ice tea'. Adds to the humour, I presume... Or whatever. Feel free to laugh (or not, if you cannot appreciate such comic genuis *makes face*)

Okay. Goodbye. Till later.
Or tomorrow.
Or... something.

xoxo!

Um...skittles...!

So. First day off in forever, thank God! Except. I had to make a very useless journey to go sign my house contract and blah di dah... All that exciting, mature stuff. *okay the journey wasn't useless, seeing as it ensures I have a roof over my head and whatnot. But yeaaah... *

Anywayssss... I was being silly in the changing rooms and decided to take pictures of my goofy self. Sorry for the skittles quality though! Blame ze phone on ze camera! 

Plus I didn't really think I was gonna be posting this on here... But that's just how things have transpired.. :S

Look, its my version of this whole harem pants thing! Not that they look like harems, but you get the picture. (Sort of, i'm hoping). And it has several pleats and these little buttons on the side! 

The amazing part? I got it for 50p. Yes, 50whole pence. Feel free to be shocked on my behalf. I got it from this charity shop (of which my town is filled with), as well as other pretty stuff! Yaaaaay to the cheap clothes!!!!

Okay. I'm off for now!

Love and cheap stuff (lol),

xoxo

'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways'...

The intricacies of Mucha's art is beyond compare....!

And on that note,shall I take my leave.

This poem has become my favourite since last week. Elizabeth Browning either a) Had a serious crush on someone (The kind that elicits sleepless nights and hyperactive imaginations ...)

or b) Was very much in love/tuned in to the heart of this fellow she was writing about. 

I haven't even BEGUN talking about/ ripping this poem to shreds trying to find out EXACTLY what she meant and how possible it is to find such heart gripping, real love... 

But yeah. Enough for now. Potato Wedges are summoning... Not McDonald's unfortunately, since the suckers decided to whet my appetite with it and then proceed to DISCONTINUE it. Rubbish.

So. 

Asta La Vista.

xoxo