The Fairy & The Troll
There once was a troll who lived under the bridge in the dark land of Brock Lea. He was quite happy under his bridge, drinking rum with the other trolls and scaring the daylights out of anyone who got too close to disturbing his self-made equilibrium.
Up on the hill, in the sunny land of the Green Witch there lived a happy little fairy girl. I wouldn't say she was a good fairy, because she was given to fits of rage every now and then that caused her to turn people into stone the minute they annoyed her... but most days she was just happy to skip along, swinging a basket of flowers and listening to soca on her ipod.
One day, while passing through dark Brock Lea, the happy little fairy girl spotted the troll under the bridge. She thought that he was rather handsome for a troll and thought such rugged good looks were wasted in the dark. Perhaps he was really a handsome prince in disguise. Being a bit nosy and fond of making trouble, she snapped a branch from a nearby tree and decided to do a little stirring.
Wearing her loudest shoes she stomped back and forth across the bridge - taking sweet pleasure in the mixture of fear and satisfaction that came while running for the hills every time the troll came roaring out in anger!
Every day she continued to tease the troll. The torment continued for several months until one day she stamped across the bridge but the troll didn't chase her. Worried, the fairy girl took her trusty stick and climbed under the bridge to poke around. She poked the troll so hard that he sprang out, snatched the stick from her hand and whacked her over the head with it!
A raging battle ensued: a cacophony of jibes, pranks and quick witted come-backs peppered the afternoon - until exhausted silence enveloped the pair: each too tired to continue but too stubborn to admit defeat. The troll had met someone he could not scare away, who fought as hard as he did, and the fairy had met someone she could not turn into stone.
So began the most unusual romance in the land of the Green Witch. The troll learned to like flowers and skipping across bridges; the fairy learned to stop scowling and to be tolerant of others - even if they were annoying.
One day, after Thanksgiving, the King of land decided to make a new law that said that the sunny people could no longer chill out with the people of the dark place. The borders were being closed, because storybook creatures were under attack. This was terrible news for the troll and the fairy girl - it meant that they would not be allowed to see each other ever again! The pair were devastated.
The fairy girl couldn't imagine living without the stabilising and organised influence of the troll; and the troll couldn't imagine living without the uplifting if somewhat chaotic influence of the fairy!
So after thinking it through, the troll asked the Fairy if he could stay with her forever.
This was a big deal for him, because it would mean leaving his cave under the bridge to live in the world of men, he'd have to step out of his comfort zone and live somewhere where the world did not revolve around trolls but he felt this a small price to pay in order to keep his ray of sunshine.
It was also a big deal for the fairy girl: she'd have to give up her wings so that she couldn't run away at the first sign of trouble: and with that would go all her magical powers: she would be human. But when faced with the prospect of being able to fly but not having her companion anymore, she too decided humanity was a small price to pay - so she said 'yes'.
so the Troll became a man and the fairy lost her wings but they each gained the strength and beauty of the other and so they had no regrets at all.
And they moved to a Castle at the top of a hill and lived happily ever after.
Friday, 24 August 2007
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
Tuesday, 7 August 2007
End of The Road?
Many have asked why one wouldn't get up again after being knocked down, and whether it depends on who or what is knocking one down.
We've been taught to let nothing stand in our way - to get back up again and never ever let them keep you down! To fight for what you believe in, to fight for what we know to be right... to understand that nothing is freely given, everything you need, every dream you wish to see fulfilled - you must get off your own backside and make it happen!
But... what if your precepts are wrong? What if you aren't meant to win THIS particular battle - this thing that keeps knocking you down - no matter how far you get - it pushes you back and necessitates that you start again...
What if you are only meant to learn the lesson - and the same situation will repeat itself until you learn whatever it is you're meant to learn not until you have won.
Regarding my current situation, I have always thought that it was 'winnable' - I just had to keep fighting for what I believed in... and by being rock solid, the situation (and its associated players) would learn to bend around me and accommodate me - I would win. (After all Dr King made it didnt he?)
But (and I know it's terrible to start a sentence with a but) but lately, I am starting to think that maybe I am wrong - maybe I am NOT meant to be fighting and pushing forward- maybe I should recognise the wall for what it is: a wall - that I am not meant to break through - but that signals this is the end of this road indicating that I should choose another path.
Forbidden
Many years ago I stood at a crossroad and made a choice between two partners. One represented raw passion, ego trips and little else, the other stood for security, partnership, companionship, family and a much smaller measure of passion.
I said goodbye to the sex bomb, and it's a good thing that I don't have his number anymore.
The temptation to run to him when things at home are sour is often overwhelming. And that's weird because there is no evidence that life with him would have been sweeter...
Maybe it's the not knowing that makes it seem all the more real.
All the more tempting... more delicious...
Or maybe it's the simple and undeniable fact that he ALWAYS made me feel wanted.
I knew without a doubt that I was wanted; and that someone found me desirable.
What confidence that imparts; what strength it provides: the courage to drag oneself up and run that comb through one's hair one more time or to add that last touch of gloss before stepping through the door: because u never know who's watching, whose fantasy u might be feeding. To know that you are HOTT.
Even when ur beat down and broken inside u live inside his mind as a goddess:
The temptation to run to him when things at home are sour is often overwhelming. And that's weird because there is no evidence that life with him would have been sweeter...
Maybe it's the not knowing that makes it seem all the more real.All the more tempting... more delicious...
Or maybe it's the simple and undeniable fact that he ALWAYS made me feel wanted.
I knew without a doubt that I was wanted; and that someone found me desirable.
What confidence that imparts; what strength it provides: the courage to drag oneself up and run that comb through one's hair one more time or to add that last touch of gloss before stepping through the door: because u never know who's watching, whose fantasy u might be feeding. To know that you are HOTT.
Even when ur beat down and broken inside u live inside his mind as a goddess:
beautiful,
untouchable
and timeless
forever.
I do not consider myself needy, or defined by the opinions of others - however, the self-affirmation attached to such simple sentences as :
"Honey, you look wonderful tonight" or
"Baby, I can't keep my hands off you" or
"Did you notice everyone's eyes were on you?"
can be so edifying... so richly empowering that the absence of such over an extended period of time can start to sow doubts and make one feel dowdy, frumpy or invisible.
I hurt so much.
Yet solace is nowhere to be found.
Yet solace is nowhere to be found.
I made my choice so I will stay true to my promise
no matter how bitter the pill.
Wednesday, 18 July 2007
Lemme Upgrade You
[verse 1:]
I hear you be the block but I'm the lights that keep the streets on
Notice you the type that like to keep them on a leash though
I'm known to walk alone, but I'm alone for a reason
Sending me a drink ain't appeasing
Believe me, Come harder this wont be easy
Don't doubt yourself; trust me YOU need ME
This ain't a shoulder with a chip or an ego
But what you think they all mad at me for?
[bridge:]
You need a real woman in your life (That's a good look)
Taking care of home and still fly (That's a good look)
I'm a help you build up your account (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Ladies thats a good look
When you're in them big meetings for the mills (Thats a good look)
You take me just to compliment the deal (Thats a good look)
And anything you cop I'll split the bill (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Believe me, Ladies thats a good look
[chorus:]
Partner Let me upgrade you, Audemars Piguet you
Switch your neck ties to purple labels, Upgrade you...
...
Partner let me upgrade you, flip a new page
Introduce you to some new things & upgrade you
[verse 2:]
I can do for you what Martin did for the people
Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo
It's very seldom that you're blessed to find your equal
so I'll play my part and let you take the lead role
Believe me, I'll follow, this could be easy
I'll be your help, whenever you need me
I see you hustle, with MY hustle
I can keep you focused on your focus
I can feed you
[bridge:]
You need a real woman in your life (That's a good look)
Taking care of home and still fly (That's a good look)
I'm a help you build up your account (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Ladies thats a good look
When you're in them big meetings for the mills (Thats a good look)
You take me just to compliment the deal (Thats a good look)
Anything you cop I'll split the bill (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Believe me, Ladies thats a good look
[chorus:]
Partner Let me upgrade you, Audemars Piguet you
Switch your neck ties to purple labels, Upgrade you
...
Partner let me upgrade you, Flip a new page
Introduce you to some new things & Upgrade you
[Jay-Z:]
(Uh HOV, Uh, HOV, uh huh huh!)
I B the d-boy who infiltrated all the corporate dudes
They call shots, I call audibles
Jacob the jeweler, baubles, Lauraine Schwartz
sorta dudeIt's big balling baby when I'm courting you
I'm talking spy bags and fly pads and rooms at the Bloomberg
And rumors you on the verge of a new merger
Cause that rock on ya finger is like a tumor
You can't fit ya hand in ya new purse
It's humorous to me - they watching
We just yachting, island hopping off
Amalfi coast Mafioso, oh baby you ever seen satin
No, not the car
but everywhere we are
You sure to see stars.
This is high level not eye level,
My bezzle courtesy of Audemars
I order yours tomorrow
now look how much I saved you
Mama let me upgrade you
[hook:]
Just when you think we had it all
Big ends, condos, collecting cars
Picture your life elevating with me
Make you my 'project celebrity'
I keep your name hot in them streets
That little glimpse of light
that makes that diamond really shine
And you already is a star
but unless you're flawless
Then your dynasty ain't complete without a chief like me
[Outro:]
Audemars Piguet watch
Dimples in ya necktie
Hermes briefcase
Cartier top clips
Silk lined blazers
Diamond creamed facials
Vi Vi X cuff links
6 star pent suites
Copyright - Beyonce & Jay-Z
Now let's really break this one down, cos I KNOW a whole lotta my degree educated female friends embrace this concept.. but what these lyrics are saying is "you gotta get it right".
I ain't saying that relationships between college girls and plumbers can't and won't work out -what I AM saying is: Don't get into that relationship thinking you can or should "bring him up to your level" - cos if he don't want to be there - he will resent you and you will be spending all your time trying to refine him and shape and mould him into the man you wanted him to be - that he becomes more of a 'project' and much much less of a 'partner'.
Note - the lyrics say : you already is a star (let's ingore the grammar),... but unless you're flawless; your dynasty ain't complete without a chief like me.
So you gotta pick the partner who is already a star - as much as you are (whether that's in property development, building services, plumbing, law, catering, investment banking etc. etc. I dont care) - and you BOTH need to be complementing and upgrading eachother.
You gotta be the person that takes HIS empire to the next level - and in so doing - take your OWN empire to the next level.
Holler if you feel me.
I hear you be the block but I'm the lights that keep the streets on
Notice you the type that like to keep them on a leash though
I'm known to walk alone, but I'm alone for a reason
Sending me a drink ain't appeasing
Believe me, Come harder this wont be easy
Don't doubt yourself; trust me YOU need ME
This ain't a shoulder with a chip or an ego
But what you think they all mad at me for?
[bridge:]
You need a real woman in your life (That's a good look)
Taking care of home and still fly (That's a good look)
I'm a help you build up your account (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Ladies thats a good look
When you're in them big meetings for the mills (Thats a good look)
You take me just to compliment the deal (Thats a good look)
And anything you cop I'll split the bill (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Believe me, Ladies thats a good look
[chorus:]
Partner Let me upgrade you, Audemars Piguet you
Switch your neck ties to purple labels, Upgrade you...
...
Partner let me upgrade you, flip a new page
Introduce you to some new things & upgrade you
[verse 2:]
I can do for you what Martin did for the people
Ran by the men but the women keep the tempo
It's very seldom that you're blessed to find your equal
so I'll play my part and let you take the lead role
Believe me, I'll follow, this could be easy
I'll be your help, whenever you need me
I see you hustle, with MY hustle
I can keep you focused on your focus
I can feed you
[bridge:]
You need a real woman in your life (That's a good look)
Taking care of home and still fly (That's a good look)
I'm a help you build up your account (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Ladies thats a good look
When you're in them big meetings for the mills (Thats a good look)
You take me just to compliment the deal (Thats a good look)
Anything you cop I'll split the bill (Thats a good look)
Better yet a hood look, Believe me, Ladies thats a good look
[chorus:]
Partner Let me upgrade you, Audemars Piguet you
Switch your neck ties to purple labels, Upgrade you
...
Partner let me upgrade you, Flip a new page
Introduce you to some new things & Upgrade you
[Jay-Z:]
(Uh HOV, Uh, HOV, uh huh huh!)
I B the d-boy who infiltrated all the corporate dudes
They call shots, I call audibles
Jacob the jeweler, baubles, Lauraine Schwartz
sorta dudeIt's big balling baby when I'm courting you
I'm talking spy bags and fly pads and rooms at the Bloomberg
And rumors you on the verge of a new merger
Cause that rock on ya finger is like a tumor
You can't fit ya hand in ya new purse
It's humorous to me - they watching
We just yachting, island hopping off
Amalfi coast Mafioso, oh baby you ever seen satin
No, not the car
but everywhere we are
You sure to see stars.
This is high level not eye level,
My bezzle courtesy of Audemars
I order yours tomorrow
now look how much I saved you
Mama let me upgrade you
[hook:]
Just when you think we had it all
Big ends, condos, collecting cars
Picture your life elevating with me
Make you my 'project celebrity'
I keep your name hot in them streets
That little glimpse of light
that makes that diamond really shine
And you already is a star
but unless you're flawless
Then your dynasty ain't complete without a chief like me
[Outro:]
Audemars Piguet watch
Dimples in ya necktie
Hermes briefcase
Cartier top clips
Silk lined blazers
Diamond creamed facials
Vi Vi X cuff links
6 star pent suites
Copyright - Beyonce & Jay-Z
Now let's really break this one down, cos I KNOW a whole lotta my degree educated female friends embrace this concept.. but what these lyrics are saying is "you gotta get it right".
I ain't saying that relationships between college girls and plumbers can't and won't work out -what I AM saying is: Don't get into that relationship thinking you can or should "bring him up to your level" - cos if he don't want to be there - he will resent you and you will be spending all your time trying to refine him and shape and mould him into the man you wanted him to be - that he becomes more of a 'project' and much much less of a 'partner'.
Note - the lyrics say : you already is a star (let's ingore the grammar),... but unless you're flawless; your dynasty ain't complete without a chief like me.
So you gotta pick the partner who is already a star - as much as you are (whether that's in property development, building services, plumbing, law, catering, investment banking etc. etc. I dont care) - and you BOTH need to be complementing and upgrading eachother.
You gotta be the person that takes HIS empire to the next level - and in so doing - take your OWN empire to the next level.
Holler if you feel me.
GOLD
Some people never recognise it
Though it's right before their eyes and shines in all its glory... They never ever see
They choose something that looks just like it
And it may glitter for a time, But gold, it'll never be
I guess you never held on to quality
Or you woulda recognised by now
Something so special, so true
When it's standing right in front of you
Im gold babe
Catch me in the slipstream, passing by the fools who just dont know
Pure gold babe
You're looking at the real thing: If you knew my worth you wouldn't let go...
Gold lies in rivers, undiscovered
Hidden from the sight of those who dont know what to look for... They never gonna find it
Sometimes the value is uncovered;
Other times it's cast aside by those who are just unsure
I guess you never held on to quality or you woulda recognised by now
Something so special so true, when I'm standing right in front of you!
Im gold babe, catch me in the slipstream, passing by the fools who just dont know
Pure gold babe, You're looking at the real thingIf you knew my worth you wouldnt let go
Cos all the things you fail to see
Separated you from me
I decide who wins my time and who comes inside
Cos what is true and what is real
Finds some way of being revealed
Im gold babe, catch me in the slipstream, passing by the fools who just dont know
Pure gold babe, You're looking at the real thingIf you knew my worth you wouldnt let go
Pure gold babe, You're looking at the real thingIf you knew my worth you wouldnt let go
- copyright Beverly Knight
Why have I posted this? Because it helped me remember who I am, what I was worth and prompted me to get the hell out of a really bad relationship.
How many of us forget what we are worth, how many of us forget that we are diamonds and settle for being treated like cubic zirconium? Why do we do that - and try to hang on to the fools who don't respect us, don't treat us like creatures of value - but refer to us as their 'f**k buddies, flams, jump-offs, baby girl, side piece etc etc" instead of their equal counterpart, partner for life, and dare I say it : wife?
Tuesday, 17 July 2007
The Concept of Personal Space
My desk is on the 8th floor. The other day I was heading down, happy to be going home after another slog on the corporate treadmill.
I stepped into the elevator (as you do) and hit the 'G' key. As we descended, I started to exhale.. and de-stress a little... only a few more floors and this day will be over - I haven't thumped or cussed anybody, so maybe this day wouldnt end too badly after all.
But - it was not meant to be. The lift jarred to a halt at the 6th... and a gentleman.. actually no - a person of the male persuasion (POMP) clambered in.
Now tell me something, if there is one person in the lift, and you are getting in (meaning you will be person number 2) - where do you stand? Next to them? Opposite them? As far away from them as possible?
POMP decided to stand where? In front of me. That's right, he was so close to me that if I had tried to look down at my feet - my forehead would have butted his back... and yes, I know my forehead is big - but come on!
Talk about all up in my space? Now can anyone tell me why on earth he had to stand so close to me? Was my perfume so alluring? Or did my aura draw him in? Did I have some trade secret he wanted to suck out of me through osmosis? What was he thinking?
People, I was vexed... my temper was rising like mercury in a thermometer. I couldn't inhale without fibres from his suit wafting up my nostrils. I wanted to scream at him:
WHY ARE YOU ALL UP IN MY SPACE?
Now some of you may be asking yourself - "Why didn't YOU just step back?"
Come now, you must know how stubborn I am. Stepping back would have been a sign of weakness, letting him know that it was ok for him to take my spot... He was not black, I was, he was not female, I was. Any giving in on my part would have made feminists and equal rights activists everywhere turn in their graces/hand their heads in shame!
I was standing where I was standing because I wanted to, there was noone else in that spot when I got in - therefore it was my spot.. just like it is my seat on the train if I sit in it. If someone sat on your half of the seat - while you were still sitting in it - would you get up? No, I didn't think so - you would tell dem to 'scotch' round or ask dem if dey backside too big fuh dey side of the seat!
Anyway - why did he think that he could claim my spot in the lift, just because what? cos he was a man? cos he was taller? cos he may have been more senior? I don't think so bro, I don't care who you are - but I got in this lift first, so I am staying right where I am and YOU need to move.
So, I did NOT step back... I stayed put, my feet firmly planted on the ground and I folded my arms... if anything, I even inched a bit closer so that HE would feel as uncomfortable as I did ... and then I fumed.
We stayed like that all the way down.
Noone else got in - they must have sensed the radioactive tension emanating through the doors and decided to get the next one.
At the ground floor, my horns retracted and fire ceased to flare from my nostrils.. my pupils even lost their red hue... I smiled at the security guards and walked away... but as I walked I wondered about what had happened.
Somewhere along the way - we learn to respect other people's personal space. We don't normally stand close to people unless we know them, and if there a3 strangers in a large moving 'thing' (train, bus, elevator..) - they don't normally flock together... more likely, they'll stand at ends with their coffees and papers and busy themselves until they can get off/out. So why not this man?
Was he one of those people Don Cheadle spoke about in 'Crash'? People who are so starved for affection/social contact that they crash into others?
Or did his parents just not teach him any manners?
More worryingly, why did his behaviour elicit such a strong reaction in ME?
Friday, 27 April 2007
A Really Good Date Pt 2 (June 2004)
Ok, so as you know we went to the BBQ - at the house of the friend who used to be a Calvin Klein underwear and jeans model. And Franc wasn't sleazy at all... ignored me sometimes.. maybe he was nervous or trying to play it cool or maybe he just didn't wanna pay 2 much attention to me cos he was with his mates? I dunno...
So apart from shivering and munching, I spent a lot of time looking at fish in the pond while they nattered away in French. Every now and then they would catch themselves and one of them would say: "hey boys speak English". I absolutely LOVED listening to their accents ... anyway.. turns out Franc is a bit of a clown (which is fine) but he did wind me up a few times and he needs to swear less... (a lot less)... maybe he was swore so frequently because he was inebriated - (see prev email : they knocked back 3 or 4 bottles of red wine... I drank water)
After BBQ I was like - ok I am going home now and they were like - no no come out with us - and I was like - dude I'm wearing a white vest and jeans - I'm not dressed for evening functions... I was told I was beautiful and
dragged along anyway... I went to places in London I'd never been before! They thought it was funny that I didn't know where anything was: they were like - "do you actually LIVE in London?" I hang my head in shame :S
First stop was a bar called Bedouin, then another one called Vibe (???)... all I know is it was noisy and cold and I'd been wearing 6 inch heels for over 7 hours... (Although I was enjoying being pampered and wrapped in a guy's jacket, and plied with lots of free drinks!) And the conversation - when in English - was pretty stimulating.. felt like champagne bubbles on your tongue.. (what possessed me to say that?)
Anyway, it got to be after 9 so I was like "ok, can u give me a lift to the station (any station)" -
they were like "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO come on! you don't have to work 2moro - stay out and play with us!"
then they asked me if I knew any bashment /rnb places... so being the inherently wicked chick I am ... I directed them to BRIXTON hahhah
Needless to say they looked incredibly uncomfortable for a while... amazing how different black ppl can be from eachother, I enjoyed watching to see whether they could adapt... they gained some balls when they drank more alcohol, funny that.
I suppose I can understand their discomfort; these guys are like models; investment bankers and IT consultants - well educated, high earning men, most ppl in Brixton clubs I took them to - are ... well how should I put it... NOT
We all know the Brix crew are more likely to be low to moderate income earners with lots of gold jewellery and smoking weed and carrying weapons, the French guys were like - "Lord, please don't let me step on anyone's foot! I don't wanna get shot!"
So the Brixton crowd is all baggy jeans or large shirts.. (designer wear by evisu, moschino, rocawear, fubu etc), and these 3 Frenchies ... well they probably dress like well.. degree educated GQ type men... I mean Franc and Herve were wearing fitted shirts to show off their buff bodies :
HOWEVER!!!! as we all know... in BRIXTON: tight shirts = gay man
and some ppl in Brixton can be pretty homophobic and mean, so I was a bit worried that ppl might make nasty comments or be mean to them thinking they were gay (not that I wud care if they WERE gay - just I was worried about their safety)...so I just had to make sure I danced with all 3 of them you know so ppl wudnt be mean to them? and boy can they dance! woohoo!
Now THAT was a pleasant surprise - cos usually educated black men cant dance to save their lives... hahaha
so I had lots of fun... the thing that was new for me was they kept paying for everything (maybe my frenz need to get jobs man! ahem ahem ) they paid for all my drinks, and my club entry and so on... noone has ever done that for me before- I either pay for myself or for myself and my frenz - so nice not to be the banker this evening - I was just the same as everyone else -
Except I was treated like a princess.. by ALL THREE OF THEM
Franc's a big kid... we kept fighting in the back of the car.. like he hit me, I hit him back (for 10 mins) or I wud call him a name like 'whinge bag' or 'skinny punk'... and he would tickle me as punishment or until I apologised! man - I was out of breath from laughing so much! He was winning as well, til I pinched him and he yelped like a girl (very satisfying that was ha-ha)
After about a solid half hour of me hollering and whelping in the back - the others separated us - they said: "u kids don't know how to play nice!" so Herve sat in the back with me instead and Franc went to the front.
That was probably for the best because DANG! it was HARD to keep my hands off him! I'm like - "hmmm Lord.. it is men like this that cause Christian women to sin!" Shivers of electricity up my spine - the way he held my hand, or my waist (or my arms when trying to twist them roughing me up in quite a tender way lol) - too much man-attention for my starved-for-affection self! Talk about sensual overload... and Andrea - you have GOT to see his lips... purpose by design - u KNOW what I am talking about. (Note - at this point I had been single and celibate for almost 2 years).
Hey - u know that song by Mario - "You should let me love you"....? well, girls, we danced to that - I felt like I was gonna swoon, he held me so tight , we were barely moving at all... and he's like got NO fat on his body (fitness geek) and I was like - "aagh" cursing my love handles!!.. but he just held me and rested his chin on the top of my head (well he's almost 6 foot!) and it was so nice! (I've always wanted a pointy chin man to put his chin on my head!) I could go on and on about that boy's body... but for the sake of dry clothing I wont - if you know what I'm saying! *wink*
I felt so secure and wanted and safe.. and its been ages since I've felt that way.. ok I lie.. I have NEVER felt that way... I felt like someone's sweetie *swoon*... like someone was actually and genuinely happy to be right where he was right then... sharing that moment with ME! no strings attached or conditions and prerequisites.. just easy like Sunday morning.
AND unlike last week's date with a certain door man... not only did I get a lift to my door but NOONE complained AND I got 3 sets of goodnight besos.
Beat that Marilyn!
It was after 5 am when I crept into my bed... feet balled up like fists in spasms of pain! Of course I couldn't walk the next day... and had to sleep with my feet slathered in baby oil and wrapped in hot towels.. but hey - small price to pay for the most amazing date ever!
ps - 2 days left on the 7 day tip.. care to place bets?
Every day I am one blessed step closer to who I will be, one grateful step further from who I used to be, and still I revel in every minute that I am who I am.
So apart from shivering and munching, I spent a lot of time looking at fish in the pond while they nattered away in French. Every now and then they would catch themselves and one of them would say: "hey boys speak English". I absolutely LOVED listening to their accents ... anyway.. turns out Franc is a bit of a clown (which is fine) but he did wind me up a few times and he needs to swear less... (a lot less)... maybe he was swore so frequently because he was inebriated - (see prev email : they knocked back 3 or 4 bottles of red wine... I drank water)
After BBQ I was like - ok I am going home now and they were like - no no come out with us - and I was like - dude I'm wearing a white vest and jeans - I'm not dressed for evening functions... I was told I was beautiful and
dragged along anyway... I went to places in London I'd never been before! They thought it was funny that I didn't know where anything was: they were like - "do you actually LIVE in London?" I hang my head in shame :S
First stop was a bar called Bedouin, then another one called Vibe (???)... all I know is it was noisy and cold and I'd been wearing 6 inch heels for over 7 hours... (Although I was enjoying being pampered and wrapped in a guy's jacket, and plied with lots of free drinks!) And the conversation - when in English - was pretty stimulating.. felt like champagne bubbles on your tongue.. (what possessed me to say that?)
Anyway, it got to be after 9 so I was like "ok, can u give me a lift to the station (any station)" -
they were like "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO come on! you don't have to work 2moro - stay out and play with us!"
then they asked me if I knew any bashment /rnb places... so being the inherently wicked chick I am ... I directed them to BRIXTON hahhah
Needless to say they looked incredibly uncomfortable for a while... amazing how different black ppl can be from eachother, I enjoyed watching to see whether they could adapt... they gained some balls when they drank more alcohol, funny that.
I suppose I can understand their discomfort; these guys are like models; investment bankers and IT consultants - well educated, high earning men, most ppl in Brixton clubs I took them to - are ... well how should I put it... NOT
We all know the Brix crew are more likely to be low to moderate income earners with lots of gold jewellery and smoking weed and carrying weapons, the French guys were like - "Lord, please don't let me step on anyone's foot! I don't wanna get shot!"
So the Brixton crowd is all baggy jeans or large shirts.. (designer wear by evisu, moschino, rocawear, fubu etc), and these 3 Frenchies ... well they probably dress like well.. degree educated GQ type men... I mean Franc and Herve were wearing fitted shirts to show off their buff bodies :
HOWEVER!!!! as we all know... in BRIXTON: tight shirts = gay man
and some ppl in Brixton can be pretty homophobic and mean, so I was a bit worried that ppl might make nasty comments or be mean to them thinking they were gay (not that I wud care if they WERE gay - just I was worried about their safety)...so I just had to make sure I danced with all 3 of them you know so ppl wudnt be mean to them? and boy can they dance! woohoo!
Now THAT was a pleasant surprise - cos usually educated black men cant dance to save their lives... hahaha
so I had lots of fun... the thing that was new for me was they kept paying for everything (maybe my frenz need to get jobs man! ahem ahem ) they paid for all my drinks, and my club entry and so on... noone has ever done that for me before- I either pay for myself or for myself and my frenz - so nice not to be the banker this evening - I was just the same as everyone else -
Except I was treated like a princess.. by ALL THREE OF THEM
Franc's a big kid... we kept fighting in the back of the car.. like he hit me, I hit him back (for 10 mins) or I wud call him a name like 'whinge bag' or 'skinny punk'... and he would tickle me as punishment or until I apologised! man - I was out of breath from laughing so much! He was winning as well, til I pinched him and he yelped like a girl (very satisfying that was ha-ha)
After about a solid half hour of me hollering and whelping in the back - the others separated us - they said: "u kids don't know how to play nice!" so Herve sat in the back with me instead and Franc went to the front.
That was probably for the best because DANG! it was HARD to keep my hands off him! I'm like - "hmmm Lord.. it is men like this that cause Christian women to sin!" Shivers of electricity up my spine - the way he held my hand, or my waist (or my arms when trying to twist them roughing me up in quite a tender way lol) - too much man-attention for my starved-for-affection self! Talk about sensual overload... and Andrea - you have GOT to see his lips... purpose by design - u KNOW what I am talking about. (Note - at this point I had been single and celibate for almost 2 years).
Hey - u know that song by Mario - "You should let me love you"....? well, girls, we danced to that - I felt like I was gonna swoon, he held me so tight , we were barely moving at all... and he's like got NO fat on his body (fitness geek) and I was like - "aagh" cursing my love handles!!.. but he just held me and rested his chin on the top of my head (well he's almost 6 foot!) and it was so nice! (I've always wanted a pointy chin man to put his chin on my head!) I could go on and on about that boy's body... but for the sake of dry clothing I wont - if you know what I'm saying! *wink*
I felt so secure and wanted and safe.. and its been ages since I've felt that way.. ok I lie.. I have NEVER felt that way... I felt like someone's sweetie *swoon*... like someone was actually and genuinely happy to be right where he was right then... sharing that moment with ME! no strings attached or conditions and prerequisites.. just easy like Sunday morning.
AND unlike last week's date with a certain door man... not only did I get a lift to my door but NOONE complained AND I got 3 sets of goodnight besos.
Beat that Marilyn!
It was after 5 am when I crept into my bed... feet balled up like fists in spasms of pain! Of course I couldn't walk the next day... and had to sleep with my feet slathered in baby oil and wrapped in hot towels.. but hey - small price to pay for the most amazing date ever!
ps - 2 days left on the 7 day tip.. care to place bets?
Every day I am one blessed step closer to who I will be, one grateful step further from who I used to be, and still I revel in every minute that I am who I am.
A Really Good Date (June 2004)
Man I don't know where to begin
1. He was so HOT...
2. He was so FINE...
3. He was so HOT!
lol ok on a serious note - we've been talking a couple times a day since I dunno wed or thurs or whenever it was I told you I'd met him.
We really seemed to get on and I was looking forward to meeting him - especially because unlike Donovan - this dude was calling/messaging everyday!
So after being completely knackered from sat night and my efforts to get home on time so I could row... I was pretty nervous about meeting Franck... it just didn't seem real that you could meet someone online and him be normal... or as good looking as his photos. I figured he must be toothless, cos he never smiled in his pics... or maybe those weren't his pics at all... maybe I was about to be murdered by a psychopathic serial killer! so I had just about talked myself out of going, when he range and said he was gonna be about 20 mins late... I was like... wow! No-one's ever called to let me know before... they just keep me waiting... so I figured I at least owed it to him to show up, even if it was to say - see ya!
I threw on (and I mean literally threw on) the first thing I could find: a white vest and some jeans (so much for planning a perfect entrance - see how convinced I was that he was gonna be rubbish? I didn't even think it was gonna be worth the effort!) Boy was I in for a surprise... and oh how I would curse the moment I decided to wear 5 inch wedges!
So... I arrived 45 mins late, not intentionally of course - but as I said - I had talked myself into believing he was gonna be a right dog. So literally dragging my heels I sauntered up to the park in the roundabout (canary wharf) and lo and behold he was still there... sitting patiently... looking all endearing all alone on the bench.
Introduced myself and apologised for being late. He said: ‘did I mention it?' and I said no, and he said: ‘well then.' and shrugged it off. I was flabbergasted (my ex would have started yelling at how I was wasting his time and he could have been doing important things instead of waiting around in a park!)
we chatted for a while, I was starving, he invited me to his best friend's BBQ - I was a bit reluctant because I am shy and don't like going places when I don't know anyone - but then I took a look at his body and thought - well.. I can go home and watch TV... or spend the afternoon looking at THAT! No contest really!
So off we went...
He annoyed me a bit on the bus (there was a baby crying and he kept whinging about it, my friend says I am too picky - he was probably just nervous having to sit next to me... or slightly immature ROFL). Otherwise he was good company and made me laugh quite a bit - which was nice. Very good sense of humour. Reminds me so much of myself at times! After a rather interesting bus journey (hahaha) and after him guessing several times which bus stop it was (apparently the last time he visited his friend from canary wharf angle he got off 2 stops early and spent ages walking!) Luckily for me (and for his hide) he got it right this time. His best friend lives in an amazing place (I really like living spaces). Herve (the best friend) lives in a gated mews: you go through the gates across an industrial looking courtyard (t'was an old factory), then through reception (complete with concierge) onto another courtyard, the centrepiece of which is an amazing pond, with white lilies on dark, blue-green water and black fish swimming up and down its length and breadth. The thing looked the width of TWO swimming pools and just as long... even had its own pontoon with decking and pathway lights. Herve was busy on the BBQ. His flat is pretty cool too... smallish but well laid out with very high ceilings! Franck introduced me as ‘bajanlily’ - saving both of us from the embarrassment of having to explain how we really met (eek)! There was one other friend there: Laurent. So there was little me with three native French speakers... smiling and nodding cos half the time I didn't understand. I used to be fairly fluent in French but that was almost 13 years ago - rusty as an old tin can now I am! it was alright when they slowed down... after about an hour of this (with me munching quietly in the background while they nattered away, shivering slightly in the cold...) they'd consumed enough red wine to marinate their livers - and realised that they should probably speak English... which started a debate on whether they should speak English or I should learn to speak French... at which point Franck opted to speak Portuguese... and seeing as how my Spanish is better than his - that was just fine with me HAH! I felt pretty smug when they all gave in and reverted to English. Turns out Herve is a former Calvin Klein model (that would explain SO much!!) *drool...* Franck seems to be a bit of a clown - but I like that - cos I know I was like that growing up... only thing is that might annoy me in 7 days eh? :P hahaha Almost collapsed with desire when he touched me - who said he could touch me? He decided to tickle me because I wouldn't tell him what derogatory comment I'd made to Herve (about Franck). I like that boyish side of him. Or at least I do for now. Got a nice hug too - and he gave me his jacket when I said I was cold... what? Do fellas like that still exist? I was shocked! Anyway - around half 7, I was like ok - time to go now (date number 2 and all that), and Franck was like: I thought you were coming with us to (can’t remember the name of the bar) in Farringdon? I was like... “Er nah... I've gotta go home...” he just smiled. 'And I am not dressed for going out' I protested.
He just smiled: "u look beautiful"
A few minutes later, there was me standing outside the bar with three French guys I'd only just met -7 hours ago - having the time of my life!
1. He was so HOT...
2. He was so FINE...
3. He was so HOT!
lol ok on a serious note - we've been talking a couple times a day since I dunno wed or thurs or whenever it was I told you I'd met him.
We really seemed to get on and I was looking forward to meeting him - especially because unlike Donovan - this dude was calling/messaging everyday!
So after being completely knackered from sat night and my efforts to get home on time so I could row... I was pretty nervous about meeting Franck... it just didn't seem real that you could meet someone online and him be normal... or as good looking as his photos. I figured he must be toothless, cos he never smiled in his pics... or maybe those weren't his pics at all... maybe I was about to be murdered by a psychopathic serial killer! so I had just about talked myself out of going, when he range and said he was gonna be about 20 mins late... I was like... wow! No-one's ever called to let me know before... they just keep me waiting... so I figured I at least owed it to him to show up, even if it was to say - see ya!
I threw on (and I mean literally threw on) the first thing I could find: a white vest and some jeans (so much for planning a perfect entrance - see how convinced I was that he was gonna be rubbish? I didn't even think it was gonna be worth the effort!) Boy was I in for a surprise... and oh how I would curse the moment I decided to wear 5 inch wedges!
So... I arrived 45 mins late, not intentionally of course - but as I said - I had talked myself into believing he was gonna be a right dog. So literally dragging my heels I sauntered up to the park in the roundabout (canary wharf) and lo and behold he was still there... sitting patiently... looking all endearing all alone on the bench.
Introduced myself and apologised for being late. He said: ‘did I mention it?' and I said no, and he said: ‘well then.' and shrugged it off. I was flabbergasted (my ex would have started yelling at how I was wasting his time and he could have been doing important things instead of waiting around in a park!)
we chatted for a while, I was starving, he invited me to his best friend's BBQ - I was a bit reluctant because I am shy and don't like going places when I don't know anyone - but then I took a look at his body and thought - well.. I can go home and watch TV... or spend the afternoon looking at THAT! No contest really!
So off we went...
He annoyed me a bit on the bus (there was a baby crying and he kept whinging about it, my friend says I am too picky - he was probably just nervous having to sit next to me... or slightly immature ROFL). Otherwise he was good company and made me laugh quite a bit - which was nice. Very good sense of humour. Reminds me so much of myself at times! After a rather interesting bus journey (hahaha) and after him guessing several times which bus stop it was (apparently the last time he visited his friend from canary wharf angle he got off 2 stops early and spent ages walking!) Luckily for me (and for his hide) he got it right this time. His best friend lives in an amazing place (I really like living spaces). Herve (the best friend) lives in a gated mews: you go through the gates across an industrial looking courtyard (t'was an old factory), then through reception (complete with concierge) onto another courtyard, the centrepiece of which is an amazing pond, with white lilies on dark, blue-green water and black fish swimming up and down its length and breadth. The thing looked the width of TWO swimming pools and just as long... even had its own pontoon with decking and pathway lights. Herve was busy on the BBQ. His flat is pretty cool too... smallish but well laid out with very high ceilings! Franck introduced me as ‘bajanlily’ - saving both of us from the embarrassment of having to explain how we really met (eek)! There was one other friend there: Laurent. So there was little me with three native French speakers... smiling and nodding cos half the time I didn't understand. I used to be fairly fluent in French but that was almost 13 years ago - rusty as an old tin can now I am! it was alright when they slowed down... after about an hour of this (with me munching quietly in the background while they nattered away, shivering slightly in the cold...) they'd consumed enough red wine to marinate their livers - and realised that they should probably speak English... which started a debate on whether they should speak English or I should learn to speak French... at which point Franck opted to speak Portuguese... and seeing as how my Spanish is better than his - that was just fine with me HAH! I felt pretty smug when they all gave in and reverted to English. Turns out Herve is a former Calvin Klein model (that would explain SO much!!) *drool...* Franck seems to be a bit of a clown - but I like that - cos I know I was like that growing up... only thing is that might annoy me in 7 days eh? :P hahaha Almost collapsed with desire when he touched me - who said he could touch me? He decided to tickle me because I wouldn't tell him what derogatory comment I'd made to Herve (about Franck). I like that boyish side of him. Or at least I do for now. Got a nice hug too - and he gave me his jacket when I said I was cold... what? Do fellas like that still exist? I was shocked! Anyway - around half 7, I was like ok - time to go now (date number 2 and all that), and Franck was like: I thought you were coming with us to (can’t remember the name of the bar) in Farringdon? I was like... “Er nah... I've gotta go home...” he just smiled. 'And I am not dressed for going out' I protested.
He just smiled: "u look beautiful"
A few minutes later, there was me standing outside the bar with three French guys I'd only just met -7 hours ago - having the time of my life!
Mystic Michael (The perils of online dating) 2004
So, after a smattering of emails and a handful of phone calls, I decided to meet up with our Michael... Candidate number 43. He seemed nice enough and his photo looked fairly appealing and after the previous week's fun with Franc I was feeling pretty positive about the whole dating thing.
I suggested traipsing through Greenwich park that Saturday afternoon - nice open public space, and near my own backyard should I need to escape. As usual, I texted a friend with as many of his personal details as I had to hand and off I went to wait outside some shops a short distance from my house.
I figured I'd better not make the same mistake twice a la not bothering to make myself look good when I met Franc et al... so THIS time I made sure everything was looking crisp before stepping out my house.
So there I was chilling by the curb, stifling a yawn and daydreaming when my phone rang: mr Michael was parked a short distance away. I started walking towards where he was -expecting him to be seated in one of the beat up cars.. but no - lo and behold he was in the '05 reg New shape Astra... hmmmm... I started to wonder what man who makes 25k p.a. can afford a brand new astra... but then maybe he's not paying rent now that he's moved back in with his mum?
I hover by the door expecting him to get out so we can go to the park. Nothing doing. He smiles and explains that he has to 'drop his mum somewhere' do I mind? with my finger on my rape alarm I hop in... Oh what a shock!
Once inside the vehicle the full deceit hits me... surely this cannot be the man in the photo? I want to burst out laughing; this geezer LOOKS a good ten years older than the guy in the photo and at least 15 years older than me. He smiles again and says something that I do not hear because the stench of his breath filling the car makes me feel quite faint. I ask whether he can roll down my window - seeing as how its all electric - and I keep my face pointed THAT way for the rest of the 10 min journey.
So besides his breath and the fact that he misses several green lights because he seems to be daydreaming instead of driving aaagh! - he was alright to talk to. Told me I was even prettier in person blah blah blah and all the while I kept thinking: ‘it’s a shame I can’t say the same about you'.
He asked me what I thought and not one to be rude - I simply said: ‘well you're bigger than your picture' - it was obvious he didn't know whether I simply meant that he was bigger than a 200 * 200 pixel image or whether I was saying he was fat. Oh didn't I mention that? He was fat. Skinny man in photo - fat man in front of me.
His mother was a lovely woman, eyeing my up with blatant curiosity - probably wondering what her son had done to get so lucky - HAH! After dropping her off at a local shop - he took me to Chumert Grove... and I was wondering what happened to my walk through Greenwich Park! Slightly disgruntled I followed silently as we walked to a small coffee shop. I wanted to laugh again as we passed a parade of trendy looking bars and restaurants... only to stop at the cheapest looking one on the end. This date was worth staying on if only for comic relief purposes man!
He asked what I wanted - I declined anything, he ordered a hot chocolate. My mirth increased as I watched him pick out change from his pocket, making wonder what would have happened had I asked for a meal! Trying not to act or feel like a snob, I tried to smile and be friendly as we sat down outside...
"I bet you haven’t seen this side of Peckham before' he boasted proudly, while I thought to myself: ‘No, nor did I particularly want to'. Instead of replying I stifled a yawn.
While he made small talk and slurped his hot chocolate (on this hot day), I found myself wondering how anyone could let their lips get so dry and crispy. Peeling bits all along the edges. A little lip balm from the Body Shop or the Nivea for Men range would go a long way here. Even a generous dollop of good old fashioned Vaseline would sort that out - I read a lot from the state of those lips. I mean, people see your lips everyday - if you can’t even be bothered to keep them looking healthy... I shuddered to think what the rest of him looked like... and man, there was so much of him to think about!
I sat there feeling very much like Thumbelina sat across from the old mole. "Find a happy place, Annette, find a happy place"
Alexander rang several times during my repose, a welcome respite from the sitcom unfolding before me.
Just when I thought it couldn't get much worse, he mentioned that my foot had touched his leg a few moments before. I hadn't noticed - and apologised.
He said “no, don't apologise... I liked it...”
I gave him one look and felt like a morsel about to be swallowed up by the ravenous wolf.
"find a happy place girl, find a happy place". I tucked my feet under my chair.
"So how do you feel about me?” he asked,
"I don't know" I replied
"You must know something" he pushed,
"I'm still assessing" I countered
"Don’t you have enough to go on?” he persisted,
"I don't like making snap decisions" I deflected.
"Well, I'm sure you have to make fast decisions everyday - you work in Derivatives don't you?"
"Yes,” I try not to roll my eyes - he obviously hasn't got a clue about what I do, "but when I make decisions I have all the information I need about the pros and cons of that decision before I make it.
"I find that hard to believe, you must use your instincts sometimes, what about when a stock is...”
I interrupt him: “As I told you before, I'm not a trader and I will never be - because I don't make decisions on gut instinct."
"Do you like men?" He asks.
I blink several times and resist the urge to claw his eyes out.
"Excuse me?" I ask.
"Do you like men?"
"As opposed to what: Liking women?" I ask incredulously.
This then leads to some form of psycho-analytic conversation where he posits that the reason I am single and have been single for so long is because subconsciously I don't really like men, and if so why am I even bothering to try to be in a long-term relationship with one? I blink rapidly, hoping that if I blink fast enough - I can wipe this mirage from my eyes…No such luck - this Michael is for real and dead serious about what he's saying.
I start to explain that his question is flawed because it calls for a generalisation i.e. if someone asked me if liked left handed people - my answer will obviously reflect my terms of reference - so if all the left handed people I met gave me money - I would say ‘yes’. Doesn't mean that ALL left handed people are nice and generous... and so on. Anyway - stopped after a while cos I knew he didn't understand. I yawned and he suggested we leave. Yay!
He kept staring at me in the car, telling me how great I was and how taken with me he was. I just kept thinking - how did his head is so big, the folds of fat envelope his ears and bulge down the back of his neck... Luckily for me- my friend rang as if on cue - yelling and screaming down the phone in crisis mode and he offered to take me home immediately so I could help her.
I practically leapt from the car as he pulled up alongside the shops. "Call me later?" he smiled. I pretended not to hear.
I called my mate and we had a good giggle over the whole affair, little did we know it was not yet over.
I'd told Mr Michael, that I was meeting Alexander later that evening but was going back to bed first because I hadn't slept the night before.
Imagine my surprise when my phone rang at 10 p.m. that same day. Was this pay back for Alex calling during my time with Michael? I was NOT impressed. As it so happened, I hadn't met up with Alex after all because we'd both worked straight through Friday night and needed to catch up on some sleep. After muttering something hopefully incoherent, I explained to Michael that I was sleeping.
"So what are you dreaming about?" he asked, "something nice... like me?"
I almost hurled the phone across the room. "I'm sleeping" I said and hung up.
I checked my phone just before heading off for rowing the next morning; he'd called again at 2:40 am and 3 times between 8 and 8:30 am. I shook my head and laughed. After rowing - around a quarter to 1 - I noticed I had about a zillion missed calls, a couple from Alex asking whether we were still meeting that day, but tons from Michael - finally ending with him asking whether I was avoiding him.
Brutha please! Give me room to BREATHE! He wanted me to accompany him to some festival in Greenwich Park later that day - I declined. When I wanted to go to the Park you took me to a coffee shop. no thanks. Besides - I'd already told him I was meeting friends, so why was he trying it?
Went out and had an awesome afternoon/evening/night with Shaherah and Herve... with my phone switched OFF. Next day the following convo occurred by text:
"Good evening. I need some frank feedback. Are u still interested? If so, could you ever put a man as the most important thing in your life?"
I swear blood vessels were popping in my head... a man as THE most important thing in MY Life??? This dude was making develop a nervous tic... what about my kid, what about my faith? What about my career and my family? A MAN? stupse... I bit back my fire and replied with grace and poise after all it wouldn't be very nice if I replied and said: “I am not interested because you are fat and ugly and your breath stinks and your lips are like crackling"
"I'm still at work but will give you a quick answer since you NEED one. I did a lot of thinking after our conversation on Saturday and you were right - I don't really like men and given this point in my career I am unable or unwilling to put anyone other than my daughter first so it would be better for me to stay single. Perhaps given time my answer would be different but right here and now this is how I feel"
Even as I hit send I groaned, wishing I had deleted the perhaps if given time sentence... but hoping he wouldn't do what I thought he might... and indeed he did.
"Ok hun, take your time to answer, I'm in no rush to receive an answer on this. Do you feel that on the basis of what you've seen so far you could learn to love me?"
More popping of my veins, more rapid blinking. This guy is persistent! Or deaf...
"I'm sorry but unfortunately not. No. Like I just said I don't currently feel capable of loving any man at this point in my life so I'm not even gonna pretend. good luck with your search". There I thought. I've said NO. That's it now.
But no...
"Girl, I'm here if you ever want to talk. This is so frustrating. I'm a decent looking brother. Why can't I find anyone, he said?" (Yes he did write ‘he said’ in there) .
At this point I am thinking to myself 'dude, you're asking the WRONG person - I can’t even find anyone... how can I answer why YOU can’t find anyone?'
So I just tell him "your time will come" and get on with my reports for work. Next thing I know I get ANOTHER, yes, ONE MORE text:
"Good luck girl. Don't give up on men. Your future partner is in the Caribbean, He's a humble man living a humble life but he loves you and you him"
I almost fall of my chair... "What?" My partner what? When did you become Mystic Meg? And if there's one thing this whole thing has taught me - it’s that my partner will NOT be a man of humble means cos ain’t nobody dragging me down to the ghetto to count change for a coffee again. EVER.
So, out of the 49 responses I received for my profile - that leaves Alexander left as a prospective, and Chris1, Chris2, Clinton, Herve (via Franc) and Paul as mates.
Online dating - not as bad as it could be. Michael was the weirdest of the lot so that's 1/48 (excluding the freak who was looking for an exotic love tryst hahaha). The rest of them were pretty genuine normal (fairly) people. Not bad.
Anyway - my profile cometh down this weekend, which is also when Alexander and I will be going to an exhibition and for a walk along the Thames. *chuckle*
Stay tuned :)
Every day I am one blessed step closer to who I will be, one grateful step further from who I used to be, and still I revel in every minute that I am who I am.
Tuesday, 10 April 2007
Wash Away The Pain (Aug 2004)
They didn't stand a chance.
Poor unfortunate souls...
Let me explain...
Since my return from the tropics, I have only been doing a cursory clean of my flat.. you know... sweep here and a wipe there but nothing on the scale of which I am known for... (for those of you who know I am a bit of an Obsessive Compulsive lass). So, with my recent childless state and sudden influx of dinner invitations and nightclub dates, my once pristine flat progressively transformed itself into a quagmire, clothing-carpeted floors that were once laminated, murky tiles and sofas buried under by piles of clean laundry, begging to be ironed or folded away!
I tried to ignore it, to deny that urge to attack it with zest, but when I started losing things, I could take it no more! And so, I cleared my diary and booked in two days of 'me' time.
I opened my cleaning cupboard, that hallowed place the uninitiated are forbidden to enter... my eyes wandered over the Anti-bacterials, and the Eco-friendlies, the piles of special cloths and sponges... but I could not find what I really wanted! A trip to the supermarket was in order.
I cannot describe the thrill I felt walking towards that aisle... my pulse started racing, the excitement welled up in my chest... I understood how shooters feel when buying their hand guns, how Nadine feels about Jimmy Choos, how Marie feels about Gucci and Prada; how my daughter feels in the Barbie aisle!
Lesser products tried to seize my attention, products with exotic sounding names, fruity fragrances or fancy colours, but I was not to be swayed. There was only one product for me... and I wasn't leaving without it. He called out to me as I stepped up to the shelf, standing proud and regal, a head above his competitors. My breath caught in my throat as I passed my fingers over his packaging... oh yeah .. this was the one. I couldn't wait to get him home.
So there I was, all gloved up and rearing to go, duster on one hip, sponge on the other, and in my palm, my weapon on choice: the Spray Bleach. With careful aim, I tackled it all, the skirting, the doors, the taps, the sinks, toilet, bathtub, worktops, fridge, cupboards... you name it - I bleached it. Inside and Out. This house is only big enough for so many microscopic organisms, ultimately there can be only one ... ME.
I did everything the old fashioned way, remember the way your mother taught you (well mine did), before there were all these fancy cleaners like Flash and Mr Muscle - there was bleach. "Kills Germs Dead" (lol). They did not stand a chance. I looked at the mop and looked at my sponge - I wanted to do it the old way... I got down on my hands and knees and started scrubbing. Felt like a soldier - but I just didn't trust the mop to make my tiles shine the way my elbow grease can! Yes, there were times I felt giddy headed from the fumes - but hey - no pain no gain! Sweat poured from my brow and I felt as though I was doing the equivalent of a proper aerobics session! I was stepping and lunging and doing arm lifts and all kinds of crazy stuff. I reorganised every cupboard in my kitchen... the stainless steel cooker is almost painful to look at... my windows are spotless.
On my knees I got to thinking, and I had a moment. One of those moments, where, for no reason at all - you change, just like that. As I sprayed and scrubbed and sprayed and wiped, and washed and put things away, I felt as though I was cleaning up my life.
Every movement became symbolic, I wiped away the grief of that terrible night in 1997 when my child was conceived; I scrubbed away the pain, anger, turmoil and anguish of the past 3 years; washed away the memories of so-called friends who betrayed me; people who lied to me; abusive partners who humiliated and denigrated me; smoothed out the wrinkles that my illness has etched in my soul; and put away the things that make me bitter and resentful.
I turned the corner.
And just as the grime washed away from tiles, so the scales and thorns fell away from my soul, the shell cracked... and I , for the first time in 6 years, ventured out of my psychosis, ready to take on the world again... to recover what was lost, and to complete this journey of healing that I have struggled through for so long.
Hey, I'm alive.
Ok so enough of the deep stuff... after 8 hours of elbow grease, love and attention, my flat smells like a hospital, but it is absolutely gleaming! And if this Investment Banking thing doesn't work out - I can always go work with Jeyes or Domestos right?
The Queen is Back
(Queen of Clean that is)
Poor unfortunate souls...
Let me explain...
Since my return from the tropics, I have only been doing a cursory clean of my flat.. you know... sweep here and a wipe there but nothing on the scale of which I am known for... (for those of you who know I am a bit of an Obsessive Compulsive lass). So, with my recent childless state and sudden influx of dinner invitations and nightclub dates, my once pristine flat progressively transformed itself into a quagmire, clothing-carpeted floors that were once laminated, murky tiles and sofas buried under by piles of clean laundry, begging to be ironed or folded away!
I tried to ignore it, to deny that urge to attack it with zest, but when I started losing things, I could take it no more! And so, I cleared my diary and booked in two days of 'me' time.
I opened my cleaning cupboard, that hallowed place the uninitiated are forbidden to enter... my eyes wandered over the Anti-bacterials, and the Eco-friendlies, the piles of special cloths and sponges... but I could not find what I really wanted! A trip to the supermarket was in order.
I cannot describe the thrill I felt walking towards that aisle... my pulse started racing, the excitement welled up in my chest... I understood how shooters feel when buying their hand guns, how Nadine feels about Jimmy Choos, how Marie feels about Gucci and Prada; how my daughter feels in the Barbie aisle!
Lesser products tried to seize my attention, products with exotic sounding names, fruity fragrances or fancy colours, but I was not to be swayed. There was only one product for me... and I wasn't leaving without it. He called out to me as I stepped up to the shelf, standing proud and regal, a head above his competitors. My breath caught in my throat as I passed my fingers over his packaging... oh yeah .. this was the one. I couldn't wait to get him home.
So there I was, all gloved up and rearing to go, duster on one hip, sponge on the other, and in my palm, my weapon on choice: the Spray Bleach. With careful aim, I tackled it all, the skirting, the doors, the taps, the sinks, toilet, bathtub, worktops, fridge, cupboards... you name it - I bleached it. Inside and Out. This house is only big enough for so many microscopic organisms, ultimately there can be only one ... ME.
I did everything the old fashioned way, remember the way your mother taught you (well mine did), before there were all these fancy cleaners like Flash and Mr Muscle - there was bleach. "Kills Germs Dead" (lol). They did not stand a chance. I looked at the mop and looked at my sponge - I wanted to do it the old way... I got down on my hands and knees and started scrubbing. Felt like a soldier - but I just didn't trust the mop to make my tiles shine the way my elbow grease can! Yes, there were times I felt giddy headed from the fumes - but hey - no pain no gain! Sweat poured from my brow and I felt as though I was doing the equivalent of a proper aerobics session! I was stepping and lunging and doing arm lifts and all kinds of crazy stuff. I reorganised every cupboard in my kitchen... the stainless steel cooker is almost painful to look at... my windows are spotless.
On my knees I got to thinking, and I had a moment. One of those moments, where, for no reason at all - you change, just like that. As I sprayed and scrubbed and sprayed and wiped, and washed and put things away, I felt as though I was cleaning up my life.
Every movement became symbolic, I wiped away the grief of that terrible night in 1997 when my child was conceived; I scrubbed away the pain, anger, turmoil and anguish of the past 3 years; washed away the memories of so-called friends who betrayed me; people who lied to me; abusive partners who humiliated and denigrated me; smoothed out the wrinkles that my illness has etched in my soul; and put away the things that make me bitter and resentful.
I turned the corner.
And just as the grime washed away from tiles, so the scales and thorns fell away from my soul, the shell cracked... and I , for the first time in 6 years, ventured out of my psychosis, ready to take on the world again... to recover what was lost, and to complete this journey of healing that I have struggled through for so long.
Hey, I'm alive.
Ok so enough of the deep stuff... after 8 hours of elbow grease, love and attention, my flat smells like a hospital, but it is absolutely gleaming! And if this Investment Banking thing doesn't work out - I can always go work with Jeyes or Domestos right?
The Queen is Back
(Queen of Clean that is)
Supermarket Sweetheart (Nov 2004)
So there I was looking for this wine... had to ask the Tesco's man to help - he showed me three with 'pinot grigio' in title.. didn't know which to pick - so chose the number 2 rated (fruity) which turned out to be £3.50 more than the other one (d'oh)... here's to me being totally unable to sustain a relationship longer than 7 days. *bottoms up!!*
While there I also saw a special offer on some DVDs I had always wanted - so got suckered into a purchase *must stop these impulse buys - or will not be able to pay for scuba dive exam in Barbados! aaagh! *
So, while I'm in the checkout line, this guy comes and takes one of the bottles from my hand and says
'excuse me can I see that?'
and then
'are you allowed to drink these in the office?'
So I turned round to cuss him and hit him with the other bottle for being so fast... but find myself in a giggle and batting my eyelids... I am ONLY looking at THE most gorgeous red man ever! Correction - the SECOND most gorgeous red man ever - cos he stepped aside to show the bottle to his mate.. and THAT red man has green eyes! Can you say Light-skinned LEMAR!!! Y'all know how I feel about LEMAR!! knees buckle.
Anyway - struck up nice conversation with BOTH - couldn't decide which to look at more - on the way to the checkout. Told them I needed the alcohol cos me and flat mate were having a girls night in - what self respecting girl is gonna tell a stranger we're celebrating getting dumped?
One guy says 'Ladies Night is Wednesday, Thursday nights is gentleman's night'. (pfft woteva!)
So I asked where they were going - seeing as how they were buying apple juice and a microwaveable meal *snigger*
Turns out they are staying in - yeah exactly! cha! About gentleman's night. stupse!
Green eyes says he more interested in his belly than alcohol. Hmmm - he's obviously looking for a wife. hahaha. And then he asks
'So when are we (meaning me AND my girl and the 2 of them) gonna meet up?'
So I call his bluff and say - next Friday (cudn't think of anything else) but they called my bluff and said:
'okay - how will we know where to meet you?
soI gave them my girl's number (ha-ha) cos the 1st reddie started moaning about how he cant give me his number cos I'm a stranger (punk!) Mr green eyes rolled them eyes and sighed and said -
here, give me then.
They're from Namibia. You ever meet anyone from Namibia? New part of Africa I haven't messed up before lol. Anyway between now and Friday is approx. 7 days - that's long enough to feed my seven day happy fetish. (If you dont know don't ask)
Highlight of the conversation:
1. ' you have this small cute face so I thought you were Namibian' - ignore the bit about them thinking only cute small faces come from Namibia and feel flattered by the cute small face bit.
2. 'Barbados? you from Barbados? I like the way you said that 'Barbados', it rolls off your tongue like your mouth was made to say that word:' Barbados''
ROFL The sun is shining outside.. I am so easily amused.
While there I also saw a special offer on some DVDs I had always wanted - so got suckered into a purchase *must stop these impulse buys - or will not be able to pay for scuba dive exam in Barbados! aaagh! *
So, while I'm in the checkout line, this guy comes and takes one of the bottles from my hand and says
'excuse me can I see that?'
and then
'are you allowed to drink these in the office?'
So I turned round to cuss him and hit him with the other bottle for being so fast... but find myself in a giggle and batting my eyelids... I am ONLY looking at THE most gorgeous red man ever! Correction - the SECOND most gorgeous red man ever - cos he stepped aside to show the bottle to his mate.. and THAT red man has green eyes! Can you say Light-skinned LEMAR!!! Y'all know how I feel about LEMAR!! knees buckle.
Anyway - struck up nice conversation with BOTH - couldn't decide which to look at more - on the way to the checkout. Told them I needed the alcohol cos me and flat mate were having a girls night in - what self respecting girl is gonna tell a stranger we're celebrating getting dumped?
One guy says 'Ladies Night is Wednesday, Thursday nights is gentleman's night'. (pfft woteva!)
So I asked where they were going - seeing as how they were buying apple juice and a microwaveable meal *snigger*
Turns out they are staying in - yeah exactly! cha! About gentleman's night. stupse!
Green eyes says he more interested in his belly than alcohol. Hmmm - he's obviously looking for a wife. hahaha. And then he asks
'So when are we (meaning me AND my girl and the 2 of them) gonna meet up?'
So I call his bluff and say - next Friday (cudn't think of anything else) but they called my bluff and said:
'okay - how will we know where to meet you?
soI gave them my girl's number (ha-ha) cos the 1st reddie started moaning about how he cant give me his number cos I'm a stranger (punk!) Mr green eyes rolled them eyes and sighed and said -
here, give me then.
They're from Namibia. You ever meet anyone from Namibia? New part of Africa I haven't messed up before lol. Anyway between now and Friday is approx. 7 days - that's long enough to feed my seven day happy fetish. (If you dont know don't ask)
Highlight of the conversation:
1. ' you have this small cute face so I thought you were Namibian' - ignore the bit about them thinking only cute small faces come from Namibia and feel flattered by the cute small face bit.
2. 'Barbados? you from Barbados? I like the way you said that 'Barbados', it rolls off your tongue like your mouth was made to say that word:' Barbados''
ROFL The sun is shining outside.. I am so easily amused.
Canaries in The Midst ( July 2004)
life this week: well today I had free krispy Kreme donuts (4) and am feeling pretty sick at the moment - but they just kept pushing them at me? Who am I do refuse? Ese would be jealous. She gave me lots of free cake on her birthday though - that was nice.
She is trying to get me to drink 8 glasses of water a day - which apparently is equivalent to 4 Evian bottles. I am laughing at her - what does she think my bladder is? I can barely manage ONE Evian bottle a day... and even with that I have to run to the ladies every 30 mins! Sheesh! How does she get her work done?
Earlier this week, I went to collect something from the bike shop so picked up a kfc salad on the way back - you can't imagine how much I was looking forward to it! I rode back here like a speeding bullet, I couldn't even lock and chain my moped properly my hands were so weak... I ran all the way from the car park to the building feeling as if I was faint, I sighed a sigh of relief as I tumbled through the door and strolled briskly towards the lifts, at that choice moment ... the bag burst! New meaning to the words: 'tossed salad' *wail*; veg, crutons and chicken all over the floor. I could have cried.. how embarrassing and what a waste of food... and I was still hungry!
What gets me most is that all 3 of the receptionists had a good laugh (2 behind their monitors, the 3rd didn't care that I could see her - either way I could HEAR them), AND the 2 security guards *sigh*.. AND the man behind me (who kicked cherry tomatoes out of his way as he headed for the lifts... AND the 3 suits in front who looked back and gaped as though they were thinking: 'how dare she bring fast food into our establishment!'
After that - I saw this really tall bandy legged skinny guy with a huge misshapen afro - he reminded me of a dandelion - that sure cheered me up.
Oh and on Monday I went to the GP for a routine check up: first thing he said to me was:
'oh,you must be feeling better - you've put on weight!'
*cough cough* Ahem,
so after I finished work I went straight to the gym. Haven't been able to walk or laugh since!
She is trying to get me to drink 8 glasses of water a day - which apparently is equivalent to 4 Evian bottles. I am laughing at her - what does she think my bladder is? I can barely manage ONE Evian bottle a day... and even with that I have to run to the ladies every 30 mins! Sheesh! How does she get her work done?
Earlier this week, I went to collect something from the bike shop so picked up a kfc salad on the way back - you can't imagine how much I was looking forward to it! I rode back here like a speeding bullet, I couldn't even lock and chain my moped properly my hands were so weak... I ran all the way from the car park to the building feeling as if I was faint, I sighed a sigh of relief as I tumbled through the door and strolled briskly towards the lifts, at that choice moment ... the bag burst! New meaning to the words: 'tossed salad' *wail*; veg, crutons and chicken all over the floor. I could have cried.. how embarrassing and what a waste of food... and I was still hungry!
What gets me most is that all 3 of the receptionists had a good laugh (2 behind their monitors, the 3rd didn't care that I could see her - either way I could HEAR them), AND the 2 security guards *sigh*.. AND the man behind me (who kicked cherry tomatoes out of his way as he headed for the lifts... AND the 3 suits in front who looked back and gaped as though they were thinking: 'how dare she bring fast food into our establishment!'
After that - I saw this really tall bandy legged skinny guy with a huge misshapen afro - he reminded me of a dandelion - that sure cheered me up.
Oh and on Monday I went to the GP for a routine check up: first thing he said to me was:
'oh,you must be feeling better - you've put on weight!'
*cough cough* Ahem,
so after I finished work I went straight to the gym. Haven't been able to walk or laugh since!
Thursday, 5 April 2007
Bed Bugs
Man, it's s true - you never miss something until you no longer have it! I long to be able to walk without pain... to run again, to be able to dance, play with my kid, just do normal stuff again!
I have been bed bound for almost 7 weeks now... which has translated to me being housebound - because really one has to get out of bed every now and then for biological and hygiene functions no?
I woke up one morning in excruciating pain.. I was in AGONY. I am telling you - it took me 29 hours to push my cub into this world and this hurt MORE than that did!
I tried the out of hours GP service, they recommended I wait 2 hours til my Docter's Surgery opened at 08:30 (lazy sods). So I waited and waited - couldn't get an 'emergency' appointment until just after midday - how is it that these people were faster on the dial than I was? Anyway - I hated my surgery for that - they won't give you appointments in advance, you have to call on the day you think you need to see the doctor... and then, well you're in the telephone lottery as to whether your call gets through between 08:30 and 09:00.. if not - well try again tomorrow! Anyway I am digressing...
So I take a taxi to the doc's and he examines me, looks appalled and sends me straight to A&E (ER) at the local hospital.. gout? fracture? trapped nerve? He doesn't know... and neither did they really - all they could say is:
"You have metatarsalgia, stay in bed for the next 10 days and take these super strong pain killers and these anti-inflammatory drugs.. be warned, they'll make you drowsy..."
Now, if you google metarsalgia - you'll realise it's not a diagnosis, more like someone just stating the obvious: 'hey, your foot hurts right there'. Which I already knew, remember I went to them? So, I told my GP and he signed me off work for 2 weeks. Two weeks in bed on drugs. And so the saga began.
At first the office was supportive, then they became demanding, then HR stepped in and they became supportive again.. now they are just annoying me and I have downed tools.
I think my mistake was in trying to be helpful: I knew we had deadlines and our project was high profile... and I knew my milestones were key to the overall delivery... my injury couldn't have happened at a worse time. I felt I had so much riding on this - career wise... I mean this was my big break - how could I afford to be sick now? So.... I made my second mistake (the first was going to the National Health Service for treatment): I offered to work from home while I was signed off as my brain still worked even if I couldnt move.
They, of course, thought it was raining diamonds... so there I was, and here I have been for the past 2 months, propped up in bed with my laptop ... logging on to the company network, drafting reports, completing documents, hosting conference calls and pretty much being a right yuppie... except, it wasn't so much an inflated ego - as a sense of obligation. I knew noone else could cover for me (we were understaffed as it was) and I knew that at the end of the day, if my deliverables didn't get met - noone would take the blame but me (who cares if youre sick!)
I hate the NHS. And today I hate my job too... they've gotten so caught up in me getting the job done (which to date I have and quite effectively too - there was a whole bunch of praise emailed around for some coup de grace I pulled off) -- they've forgotten that I am NOT WELL! I can't work 12 hour days, I get cranky and tired because I am in PAIN and on drugs which alter my disposition...
I feel let down. I feel let down by these big shots I work for... but then why I expect sympathy or understanding from Mr Corporate Giant - I have no idea.... after all, I spent years campaigning against unchecked capitalism and the associated underdevelopment and exploitation. The corporation is the epitome of callousness... it doesn't care or feel.. it just wants to meet its objective, its raison d'etre which is simply to make profit. It doesnt care if I die in the process...
So anyway, I feel let down by the NHS (God only knows why I expected better treatment from them either - they aint got no money and are only interested in keeping their stats low - which means getting patients in and out the door as fast as possible, case closed... regardless of whether the patient is healed or not.
8 weeks I've been in pain... and all I've been given is a pair of crutches (which I had to BEG for after I asked them how the hell I was gonna get to the bathroom since I couldn't walk) and a repeat prescription for heavy duty painkillers. Nice... that's really gonna fix me up innit?
I finally paid my own money and saw a podiatrist - he said they needed to determine the underlying cause of my pain (no kidding!) - it wasn't until he wrote them a letter that my GP decided to refer me to a specialist... and then - even though i told them I had private medical insurance - they insisted on referring me to an NHS Consultant.. here we go again!
After 6 weeks of pain - I went to see Dr Incompetent.. sorry, he didnt even have an MD, he was Mr Incompetent. They took x-rays, couldnt find anything, examined the wrong foot, told me I had plantar fasciitis, advised me to do stretching exercises and sent me home. I was furious!
Metarsalgia (which 4 doctors agreed I have) - is pain in the ball of the foot, more specifically my pain was located between the 3rd and 4th toes... google that and what you get is 'suspected morton's neuroma' which means you got a trapped nerve in the top of your foot. He was meant to check up on that...
Plantar Fasciitis - that means pain in the HEEL of your foot. Anyone see anything strange here? How am I gonna do heel stretching exercises (involving standing with one's foot pressed against the ground) when I cannot walk? I can't bear weight on my right foot? Hello? Anybody home?
At this point, HR decided to check up on me and insisted I use my private medical cover to get a second opinion - which I was going to do anyway... they also decided I should see the company's own specialists to determine if and when I shall be fit to return to work and whether I will need any special care - like taxis to and from work (hmmm...) They also told me that technically, I am sick ie if my doctor has signed me off sick - I shouldn't be working from home.. so if I don't feel up to it...
That's probably why I have downed tools. My appointment with the private consultant is on Tuesday... if he can't find out what the cause was... and I return to work as expected on the 17th April - well my days at home are numbered... might as well enjoy what little time I have left. The only person looking out for me is me... so lemme do some looking out.
As much as I don't want to lose my job... I have no desire to sacrifice my well-being for my job. I'm as stressed right now as if I had been in the office all week... and I guess I have.. I have the same workload even though I work reduced hours, I am expected to meet the same deadlines even though I am in drugged out haze for the entire afternoon (and therefore pretty ineffective at anything other than Solitaire). I get no slack cut for me... so I'm taking out my own cutlass and carving me a fat slice of ME time.
The NHS sucks... if you get sick - go private asap! Don't wait for them to send you to Mr Incompetent.
If you die, the company will replace you within 4-8 weeks. Your family however, will never be the same: to them you are irreplacable.
On that note - I'm off to lay my head down.. the drugs are starting to kick in. (Apologies to all for the disjointedness of this post)
I have been bed bound for almost 7 weeks now... which has translated to me being housebound - because really one has to get out of bed every now and then for biological and hygiene functions no?
I woke up one morning in excruciating pain.. I was in AGONY. I am telling you - it took me 29 hours to push my cub into this world and this hurt MORE than that did!
I tried the out of hours GP service, they recommended I wait 2 hours til my Docter's Surgery opened at 08:30 (lazy sods). So I waited and waited - couldn't get an 'emergency' appointment until just after midday - how is it that these people were faster on the dial than I was? Anyway - I hated my surgery for that - they won't give you appointments in advance, you have to call on the day you think you need to see the doctor... and then, well you're in the telephone lottery as to whether your call gets through between 08:30 and 09:00.. if not - well try again tomorrow! Anyway I am digressing...
So I take a taxi to the doc's and he examines me, looks appalled and sends me straight to A&E (ER) at the local hospital.. gout? fracture? trapped nerve? He doesn't know... and neither did they really - all they could say is:
"You have metatarsalgia, stay in bed for the next 10 days and take these super strong pain killers and these anti-inflammatory drugs.. be warned, they'll make you drowsy..."
Now, if you google metarsalgia - you'll realise it's not a diagnosis, more like someone just stating the obvious: 'hey, your foot hurts right there'. Which I already knew, remember I went to them? So, I told my GP and he signed me off work for 2 weeks. Two weeks in bed on drugs. And so the saga began.
At first the office was supportive, then they became demanding, then HR stepped in and they became supportive again.. now they are just annoying me and I have downed tools.
I think my mistake was in trying to be helpful: I knew we had deadlines and our project was high profile... and I knew my milestones were key to the overall delivery... my injury couldn't have happened at a worse time. I felt I had so much riding on this - career wise... I mean this was my big break - how could I afford to be sick now? So.... I made my second mistake (the first was going to the National Health Service for treatment): I offered to work from home while I was signed off as my brain still worked even if I couldnt move.
They, of course, thought it was raining diamonds... so there I was, and here I have been for the past 2 months, propped up in bed with my laptop ... logging on to the company network, drafting reports, completing documents, hosting conference calls and pretty much being a right yuppie... except, it wasn't so much an inflated ego - as a sense of obligation. I knew noone else could cover for me (we were understaffed as it was) and I knew that at the end of the day, if my deliverables didn't get met - noone would take the blame but me (who cares if youre sick!)
I hate the NHS. And today I hate my job too... they've gotten so caught up in me getting the job done (which to date I have and quite effectively too - there was a whole bunch of praise emailed around for some coup de grace I pulled off) -- they've forgotten that I am NOT WELL! I can't work 12 hour days, I get cranky and tired because I am in PAIN and on drugs which alter my disposition...
I feel let down. I feel let down by these big shots I work for... but then why I expect sympathy or understanding from Mr Corporate Giant - I have no idea.... after all, I spent years campaigning against unchecked capitalism and the associated underdevelopment and exploitation. The corporation is the epitome of callousness... it doesn't care or feel.. it just wants to meet its objective, its raison d'etre which is simply to make profit. It doesnt care if I die in the process...
So anyway, I feel let down by the NHS (God only knows why I expected better treatment from them either - they aint got no money and are only interested in keeping their stats low - which means getting patients in and out the door as fast as possible, case closed... regardless of whether the patient is healed or not.
8 weeks I've been in pain... and all I've been given is a pair of crutches (which I had to BEG for after I asked them how the hell I was gonna get to the bathroom since I couldn't walk) and a repeat prescription for heavy duty painkillers. Nice... that's really gonna fix me up innit?
I finally paid my own money and saw a podiatrist - he said they needed to determine the underlying cause of my pain (no kidding!) - it wasn't until he wrote them a letter that my GP decided to refer me to a specialist... and then - even though i told them I had private medical insurance - they insisted on referring me to an NHS Consultant.. here we go again!
After 6 weeks of pain - I went to see Dr Incompetent.. sorry, he didnt even have an MD, he was Mr Incompetent. They took x-rays, couldnt find anything, examined the wrong foot, told me I had plantar fasciitis, advised me to do stretching exercises and sent me home. I was furious!
Metarsalgia (which 4 doctors agreed I have) - is pain in the ball of the foot, more specifically my pain was located between the 3rd and 4th toes... google that and what you get is 'suspected morton's neuroma' which means you got a trapped nerve in the top of your foot. He was meant to check up on that...
Plantar Fasciitis - that means pain in the HEEL of your foot. Anyone see anything strange here? How am I gonna do heel stretching exercises (involving standing with one's foot pressed against the ground) when I cannot walk? I can't bear weight on my right foot? Hello? Anybody home?
At this point, HR decided to check up on me and insisted I use my private medical cover to get a second opinion - which I was going to do anyway... they also decided I should see the company's own specialists to determine if and when I shall be fit to return to work and whether I will need any special care - like taxis to and from work (hmmm...) They also told me that technically, I am sick ie if my doctor has signed me off sick - I shouldn't be working from home.. so if I don't feel up to it...
That's probably why I have downed tools. My appointment with the private consultant is on Tuesday... if he can't find out what the cause was... and I return to work as expected on the 17th April - well my days at home are numbered... might as well enjoy what little time I have left. The only person looking out for me is me... so lemme do some looking out.
As much as I don't want to lose my job... I have no desire to sacrifice my well-being for my job. I'm as stressed right now as if I had been in the office all week... and I guess I have.. I have the same workload even though I work reduced hours, I am expected to meet the same deadlines even though I am in drugged out haze for the entire afternoon (and therefore pretty ineffective at anything other than Solitaire). I get no slack cut for me... so I'm taking out my own cutlass and carving me a fat slice of ME time.
The NHS sucks... if you get sick - go private asap! Don't wait for them to send you to Mr Incompetent.
If you die, the company will replace you within 4-8 weeks. Your family however, will never be the same: to them you are irreplacable.
On that note - I'm off to lay my head down.. the drugs are starting to kick in. (Apologies to all for the disjointedness of this post)
A Place To Be Me
After reading my sister's blogs, I've finally decided to give up on my personal websites and just use blogging spot. Ready-made, "here's- one- I- made- earlier"... no more worrying about annual hosting fees and domain name renewals... just me and the text that my fingers and brain come up with.
I realised, reading through her posts, that so much in me had changed. Where I'd once been so strong and opininated - loud and expressive, I've become introverted, quiet.. afraid to speak my mind. I feel stunted and oppressed... and before today I would hardly have admitted it.
But I am admitting it now (yes I know u shouldn't start a sentence with 'but'). I admit that corporate life.... and trying to fit in so I can keep my job and pay the bills has become a higher priority than being me. I'm dying to get so many things off my chest - like I'm about to explode!
So I'm gonna let it all out, everything... and maybe someone will read this - maybe not.. but at least it won't be inside me turning me crazy.
I can be like Clark Kent, mild mannered investment banker by day - a loud mouthed superhero by night... ok, ok, so maybe I can't fly and all that... but at least I can find a place to be me.
I realised, reading through her posts, that so much in me had changed. Where I'd once been so strong and opininated - loud and expressive, I've become introverted, quiet.. afraid to speak my mind. I feel stunted and oppressed... and before today I would hardly have admitted it.
But I am admitting it now (yes I know u shouldn't start a sentence with 'but'). I admit that corporate life.... and trying to fit in so I can keep my job and pay the bills has become a higher priority than being me. I'm dying to get so many things off my chest - like I'm about to explode!
So I'm gonna let it all out, everything... and maybe someone will read this - maybe not.. but at least it won't be inside me turning me crazy.
I can be like Clark Kent, mild mannered investment banker by day - a loud mouthed superhero by night... ok, ok, so maybe I can't fly and all that... but at least I can find a place to be me.
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