Im still alive..just still as lazy as fuck to actually use my keyboard. No, im going to post some stuff up in a bit, nothing hella exciting but personal stuff I guess that ya'll should like (I hope).
It feels pretty good writing again (even if someones rolling their eyes at me right now) - see you soon sons.
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
FEELING CAKEY! THAT KIND OF BIRTHDAY CAKEY LOVE
OK, I am going to stop blogging after this because I seriously need to start getting ready to go out for dinner. BUT seriously - CAKES! I really, really, really want a GIGANTIC SLICE OF MOIST, SWEET BIRTHDAY CAKE. Don't you ever have that odd cakey crave that makes your stomach growl and mouth water a little bit??
Well, i'm definetly making a note of that tonight (seriously, i will note in my To Do list on my phone: 'buy slice of birthday cake' it will say, under the Urgent section), even though I'm trying to watch the carbs (if you knew me, this revelation would be of huge shock as I NEVER care what I eat but I've started to..that and becoming addicted to Tae Bo. Billy Banks is a legend..youtube him) so I think I'll go for a chicken salad tonight (without the mayo)..or some ribs and fries and something super sweet and cakey afterwards??
Grrrrrrr, decisions, decisions..Fuck it. I'll just have to work a little harder during cardio time tommorrow (...cue tears and wimpering lips). But it'll be sooo very worth it.
Right, im off now. I have no idea what I'm going to wear but I'll dig something up. White lace top with denim and brown knuckle boots?..We'll see. Might post some pictures up..
Have a great evening guys and to the new followers, big hearty thank you's all round.
Ciaoooo X
Grrrrrrr, decisions, decisions..Fuck it. I'll just have to work a little harder during cardio time tommorrow (...cue tears and wimpering lips). But it'll be sooo very worth it.
Right, im off now. I have no idea what I'm going to wear but I'll dig something up. White lace top with denim and brown knuckle boots?..We'll see. Might post some pictures up..
Have a great evening guys and to the new followers, big hearty thank you's all round.
Ciaoooo X
Bad Karaoke and Chinese buffet = great night out
One of those funny mischievous nights out, and we were celebrating the birthday of a close friend. Chinese food + bad Karaoke + laughter + laughter..+ laughter = a great night, I think.
I wore a pair of old, vintage cropped denims with a cream blouse and black ankle boots. I have big love for each of those garments because their discovery brought great joy in my life haha (I went crazy over that blouse but God knows where it's hanging in my wardrobe right now if you ask me).
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
The Danger of a Single Story
Dear fine people,
Yes, I know the above picture is a bit blurry and my little Arty political experiment didn't quite go to plan. Oh, well. Life's a bitch. I got over the picture thing a few seconds ago, but I love it so its staying. I know it's been a hot while since I've posted a blog and for those of you who are actually following me (like you know actually caring what I have to say, like genuinely interested in the little things I attempt to do and fail to do well), apart from a particular woman who holds my life at the tips of her supernatural fingers (you know who you are), then I solute you.
I'm kind of slouched at the side of my bed, and it's approximately 3.19 in the afternoon and by the time I finish writing (after tons of unneccessary long breaks and phone calls and trillions of bad food), it'll be 4 am or something. But still.
I shall write, because writing is like breathing (cliches..you have to love them)..but it's true.
So anyway, if you have been keeping an open eye then you would've by now probably been thrown off or quite repulsed, or..a little startled by my fascination with the writer Chimamanda Ngozi (if you don't know her, google her. She is A-M-A-ZING with two Z's and G's..ZZINGG). It is her I think I sometimes live and write for.
And of course, it was her who brought up the dangers of a single story in a talk at Oxford. Dangers of a single story = consequences of stereotypes. Now, I know you're probably at this point thinking 'next blog' or even 'urr here we go..a monthly period of big emotions'. NO, fear not - this isn't your typical rant about stereotypes. I'd like to think that I come with a refreshing angle to stereotypes because of course as a writer and I think as human beings in fact, Chimamanda's words are essential.
As a child growing up in Nigeria, she grew reading childrens books by British classics like Rawl Dahl, and only ever wrote about the weather, apples and white people! Funny, I know. Here was this little black girl from Nigeria writing about things she'd never seen but only heard of. But I completely relate to her. When I used to write as a child, the thought of even having characters of the same race as me never once occured. I'd been so washed with this ideology that 'good' books only had white characters..and whoah to talk about Congo (where I come from) in your books? NO WAY.
Like me, all Chimamanda knew of in books as a child was white characters who played in the snow and never said 'Mama' as we sometimes do in Africa. No, they only ever used Mum and Mother (which reminds me I should stop calling my mum - mummy. I'm like nearly 19..YUK). This was of course until she read the book Things Fall Apart by an old Nigerian writer called Chinua Achebe. She cites him as being a huge inspiration, someone who gave her permission to write about Africa.
And we're not talking about the conventional Africa that Western society is used to. Not the Africa that we see on TV, or read about in the newspapers where only war, poverty and those Oxfam adverts consisting of small malnurished children with bloated bellies and flies batting at their eyelids are the only things mentioned. As if there are not other sides to Africa, as if that is only what we have to offer. We're talking about the other sides to it, the sides that does still include the corruption and colonialism but also good food, good people and great minds (whose countries could be the richest, if all the filthy greedy bastards like, King Leopold, didn't steal off our land..)
Because that is a great example of a single story. Knowing only one side to the picture, only one part of the puzzle. You can't put it all together unless you have all the pieces and the scary thing is, we are all and have been at some points subjects of a single story!
Like I'm sure in the past, a person of a different race has looked at me and been surprised that I speak 'good' English, or the fact that I have a septum piercing and like listening to The Maccabees. People seem so suprised which is patronising.
No, I do not dance around my living room like a baboon, and eat off a floor, and poo in a leaf. No, I do not play music by batting my chest and stamping around like a monkey. Yes, I too love eating bangers and mash, fish and chips (now I know, I know there's more to Brits than those stereotypical dishes but you get my drift..) and listening to 'pop' music (well I don't love pop thaat much actually..) and hey, do you know that my parents love Classical music and dance to Shakira (well I just have weird parents..)? And did you know that Africa isn't a country but a continent?
....at this point I think I should breath and calm down. Because I know at one point, I was surprised when my Pakistani friend said she loved Jay Z. What was I thinking? That her parents were capable of killing her if she didn't marry her second cousin and that Jay Z was not 'part of my culture' and ooh my speaking of black boys in her home would get her stoned?
But that's where you can become swamped in this bubble if you go by the single story, if you don't open up your mind and realise that we all have our differences (which is a beautiful thing) but we also have similarities, whether you're black, white, yellow, blue, orange. We all love curries occasionally..(I, myself prefer Chinese..urr I'd love one now actually).
As a writer it's imperative that I don't use single stories in my characters, otherwise it's feeding these false images of fake people. That's where I love Chimamanda. Her characters are real, and her books have an emotional truth to them that many others books lack greatly. I'd like to think that when I do finally finish my novel, all my characters are realistic, but above everything else, contain more than one single story about themselves.
I'm kind of slouched at the side of my bed, and it's approximately 3.19 in the afternoon and by the time I finish writing (after tons of unneccessary long breaks and phone calls and trillions of bad food), it'll be 4 am or something. But still.
I shall write, because writing is like breathing (cliches..you have to love them)..but it's true.
So anyway, if you have been keeping an open eye then you would've by now probably been thrown off or quite repulsed, or..a little startled by my fascination with the writer Chimamanda Ngozi (if you don't know her, google her. She is A-M-A-ZING with two Z's and G's..ZZINGG). It is her I think I sometimes live and write for.
And of course, it was her who brought up the dangers of a single story in a talk at Oxford. Dangers of a single story = consequences of stereotypes. Now, I know you're probably at this point thinking 'next blog' or even 'urr here we go..a monthly period of big emotions'. NO, fear not - this isn't your typical rant about stereotypes. I'd like to think that I come with a refreshing angle to stereotypes because of course as a writer and I think as human beings in fact, Chimamanda's words are essential.
As a child growing up in Nigeria, she grew reading childrens books by British classics like Rawl Dahl, and only ever wrote about the weather, apples and white people! Funny, I know. Here was this little black girl from Nigeria writing about things she'd never seen but only heard of. But I completely relate to her. When I used to write as a child, the thought of even having characters of the same race as me never once occured. I'd been so washed with this ideology that 'good' books only had white characters..and whoah to talk about Congo (where I come from) in your books? NO WAY.
Like me, all Chimamanda knew of in books as a child was white characters who played in the snow and never said 'Mama' as we sometimes do in Africa. No, they only ever used Mum and Mother (which reminds me I should stop calling my mum - mummy. I'm like nearly 19..YUK). This was of course until she read the book Things Fall Apart by an old Nigerian writer called Chinua Achebe. She cites him as being a huge inspiration, someone who gave her permission to write about Africa.
And we're not talking about the conventional Africa that Western society is used to. Not the Africa that we see on TV, or read about in the newspapers where only war, poverty and those Oxfam adverts consisting of small malnurished children with bloated bellies and flies batting at their eyelids are the only things mentioned. As if there are not other sides to Africa, as if that is only what we have to offer. We're talking about the other sides to it, the sides that does still include the corruption and colonialism but also good food, good people and great minds (whose countries could be the richest, if all the filthy greedy bastards like, King Leopold, didn't steal off our land..)
Because that is a great example of a single story. Knowing only one side to the picture, only one part of the puzzle. You can't put it all together unless you have all the pieces and the scary thing is, we are all and have been at some points subjects of a single story!
Like I'm sure in the past, a person of a different race has looked at me and been surprised that I speak 'good' English, or the fact that I have a septum piercing and like listening to The Maccabees. People seem so suprised which is patronising.
No, I do not dance around my living room like a baboon, and eat off a floor, and poo in a leaf. No, I do not play music by batting my chest and stamping around like a monkey. Yes, I too love eating bangers and mash, fish and chips (now I know, I know there's more to Brits than those stereotypical dishes but you get my drift..) and listening to 'pop' music (well I don't love pop thaat much actually..) and hey, do you know that my parents love Classical music and dance to Shakira (well I just have weird parents..)? And did you know that Africa isn't a country but a continent?
....at this point I think I should breath and calm down. Because I know at one point, I was surprised when my Pakistani friend said she loved Jay Z. What was I thinking? That her parents were capable of killing her if she didn't marry her second cousin and that Jay Z was not 'part of my culture' and ooh my speaking of black boys in her home would get her stoned?
But that's where you can become swamped in this bubble if you go by the single story, if you don't open up your mind and realise that we all have our differences (which is a beautiful thing) but we also have similarities, whether you're black, white, yellow, blue, orange. We all love curries occasionally..(I, myself prefer Chinese..urr I'd love one now actually).
As a writer it's imperative that I don't use single stories in my characters, otherwise it's feeding these false images of fake people. That's where I love Chimamanda. Her characters are real, and her books have an emotional truth to them that many others books lack greatly. I'd like to think that when I do finally finish my novel, all my characters are realistic, but above everything else, contain more than one single story about themselves.
Friday, 18 December 2009
MY BOY BUILDS COFFINS
He doesn't build ships, he has no use for sails
He doesn't make tables, dressers or chairs
He can't carve a whistle cause he just doesn't care
My boy builds coffins for the rich and poor
Kings and Queens, them all knocked at his door
Beggars, and liars, gypsies and thieves
They all come to impact, he's so eager to please
Monday, 30 November 2009
Love in a Bucket..
Chimamanda you was behind it all. You are always behind it all.
Below is something I wrote one night for a special someone (not my Chimamanda), at some time past midnight probably, the light from laptop screen burning my eyes but my fingers feeling like electricity - this meant that I had to write this, couldn't have slept if I didn't.
So anyway, this is a little something for you mon amour. Nothing more or less.
Accept.
If my love was water filled in a bucket,
It would be tipping on each side, spilling over the edges of the bucket.
Drops of it going on the floor, unable to stay still and not leave the bucket.
My love overflows. But the bucket never gets empty.
It always stays full.
Below is something I wrote one night for a special someone (not my Chimamanda), at some time past midnight probably, the light from laptop screen burning my eyes but my fingers feeling like electricity - this meant that I had to write this, couldn't have slept if I didn't.
So anyway, this is a little something for you mon amour. Nothing more or less.
Accept.
If my love was water filled in a bucket,
It would be tipping on each side, spilling over the edges of the bucket.
Drops of it going on the floor, unable to stay still and not leave the bucket.
My love overflows. But the bucket never gets empty.
It always stays full.
Friday, 13 November 2009
Feeling Inspirational Chimamanda's words...
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is a legend. At this moment releasing her to you hairy punters feels hard. Very very hard. I am reluctant to tell you about her..and just what a huge inspiration she is to me as an aspiring writer. But fuck it. I sit here with red eyes (half shut by the way, giving the screen a dull look that reads 'hmmm...do I trust you?') and some Haribos on the left hand side of my lap (which I will stop eating because I feel quite sick right now) and now at this very second, I have no intentions of going against my initial intentions (I know, I know, I repeated intentions two times..)..!
I've already spoken about her in my blog before but it was so brief; I posted a few pictures of her however and if you just look a little further down, you'll see a picture of a black woman with braids and a bright intellectual (did I spell that right?) smile.
So Chimamanda grew up in a town far, far away called Nsukka, in southeast Nigeria to a father who was a professor of statistics and a mother who worked as a University registrar. She's come to write two dope novels which I've read like 5 times in total: Purple Hisbiscus (2006), and Half of a Yellow Sun (2007).
For me Adichie is that like Idol you beg to think like, write like..you beg to sort of drink in her words, digest them and then in return let your words pour out on paper. Reading her books feel like a novelty because it's not very often you find an author who can move you, is completly fearless and can write beautifully, yet so simplistically. Her characters are so real, and so vivid that it's rather scary; you find yourself feeling attached to them (which I did in Half of a Yellow Sun with Kainene especially) that by the end of the story, you feel sad; a deep loss that tightens your chest because you've just realised that you'll never hear of them or from them again (at this point I always hate myself for reading the book too fast).
And - and - you always learn with Chimamanda too, like in Half of a Yellow Sun. It was about the Biafran war, and the fight and struggle during the Civil war in Nigeria- who can say they know anything about the Biafran war? About how it could be compared to the genocide in Rwanda, the Holocaust.. ? Of course this opens a bag of worms and a big debate..but let that be.
I think i'll leave it at that for now; I've said too bloody much I think.
Chimamanda recently released her third book in April, titled The Thing Around Your Neck which consists of a collection of beautiful short stories. READ IT!! Read all of her books..
So (please ignore the above threat - at the time it felt like the right thing to do) if you want to check her out, her website is: www.l3.ulg.ac.be/adichie/
ENJOY <3
I've already spoken about her in my blog before but it was so brief; I posted a few pictures of her however and if you just look a little further down, you'll see a picture of a black woman with braids and a bright intellectual (did I spell that right?) smile.
So Chimamanda grew up in a town far, far away called Nsukka, in southeast Nigeria to a father who was a professor of statistics and a mother who worked as a University registrar. She's come to write two dope novels which I've read like 5 times in total: Purple Hisbiscus (2006), and Half of a Yellow Sun (2007).
For me Adichie is that like Idol you beg to think like, write like..you beg to sort of drink in her words, digest them and then in return let your words pour out on paper. Reading her books feel like a novelty because it's not very often you find an author who can move you, is completly fearless and can write beautifully, yet so simplistically. Her characters are so real, and so vivid that it's rather scary; you find yourself feeling attached to them (which I did in Half of a Yellow Sun with Kainene especially) that by the end of the story, you feel sad; a deep loss that tightens your chest because you've just realised that you'll never hear of them or from them again (at this point I always hate myself for reading the book too fast).
And - and - you always learn with Chimamanda too, like in Half of a Yellow Sun. It was about the Biafran war, and the fight and struggle during the Civil war in Nigeria- who can say they know anything about the Biafran war? About how it could be compared to the genocide in Rwanda, the Holocaust.. ? Of course this opens a bag of worms and a big debate..but let that be.
I think i'll leave it at that for now; I've said too bloody much I think.
Chimamanda recently released her third book in April, titled The Thing Around Your Neck which consists of a collection of beautiful short stories. READ IT!! Read all of her books..
So (please ignore the above threat - at the time it felt like the right thing to do) if you want to check her out, her website is: www.l3.ulg.ac.be/adichie/
ENJOY <3
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
. 
Writing is my first love, a place where I can go to alone without anyone else getting through. Usually i'll be up at the craziest hours writing shit loads of stuff (im currently writing a novel that I've been working on for a year now) and for me there's something so liberating about sitting alone writing, stark naked. It does wonders! My favourite author would definetly be Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi who for me is like a living LEGEND; her writing is epic and so significant.
ITALIA VOGUE is a secret haven of mine which I usually consume with a cup of choc and a comfortable sofa but of course rather rarely due to being a student and insufficient funds...you get my drift. But yeah this for me is total RADICAL HAPPINESS.
F**CK BRANDS AND WHO HAS THE LATEST - THRIFT SHOPS ARE MY ADDICTION!! And what I've always loved about them is the authenticity of the clothes AND their CHEAP - need I go further?? And of course every chile has one round the corner. SEXY TIMES
I love bizarre Art pieces/photography because they really spark inspiration. Like this one for example is super cool, and like I know most literal (stupid) people who lack imagination would see this as a girl literally feeling herself up but I looked past that. I really just like how there's an enticing, dark but pure delicate beauty to this.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
