Glee, Bible and boob.

I had an amazing Friday night in, greasy pizza, no work, and loads of watchable TV shows on. There was this episode of Glee on that dealt with the kids searching for their spirituality (in loads of overproduced, but supposedly, spontaneous renditions of hymns/pop music). One guy, Finn, found the face of Jesus on a grilled cheese sandwich (you know the ones, usually on the BBC as a story of 'the face of Jesus in the peanut butter jar top etc etc) and fervently prayed to his cheesy Lord that his girlfriend would allow him to touch her boobs. 

This reminded of my recent 'misperformance' in a teaching session. We were all gathered in the lecture theatre, diligently taking notes and pretending to listen to a lecture on Public Health, when I looked down and realised that my left hand was resting, casually (if that is at all possible), on my left boob. Cupping it, in fact. In the middle of a lecture, with 120 other people there. I was feeling my own boob. Who does that?! How does something like that happen?! 

I don't know how it happened, but my immediate problem was how to take said hand away without attracting the attention of everyone else. I slowly bent forward onto the writing desk in front of me, so that just my head was resting on it, and nonchalantly slid my hand off my breast onto the table. Then burst into a fit of giggles. No one else had noticed my little 'self-love' moment so it was all good. I turned around to be sure that none of my friends had noticed, and they hadn't, but I did catch a glimpse of a boy not-so-secretly re-arranging his balls. And I thought to myself: that right there, is the difference between boys and girls summed up. The boobs are mine, but gratuitous groping is frowned upon, and well, girls care about stuff like that. A boy, on the other hand, doesn't see the shame in slipping a hand down the front of his pants, juggling his 'tom-and-jerrys' about, and then carrying on with his lunch.

In other news, I went to church today, for the first time in a long time. I think they should talk more about spirituality and religion on TV, cause clearly Glee had an impact. Either way, church was great. I feel...in equipoise.

Be good people...Jah bless (they didn't say that in church, it just sounded cool in my head).

Who's the idiot? Me. That's who.

It's important to laugh at one's self as often as you can. Of course if you are anything like me, these moments come thick and fast. This next story is excessively embarrassing for me, but even worse, makes me think that I might be a little bit crazy.

So boy #4, still without a name (not really sure what's happening/where it's going, and as per my new year's resolution, I am doing nothing about it), and I have been keeping touch, often via text, the occasional phone call, and more recently on google talk. He does this thing where he retreats into his own little world for a few days and maintains radio silence. This last happened (other than the ongoing episode *sad-ish face*) a couple of weekends ago. I had had a crappy day at work, last heard from him 3 days ago, and sure that I had been the last to text. So the next day, feeling pretty miserable, and a little annoyed, I noticed he was logged on. I sat there for a while, willing him to message me, then decided that actually I might appear a little idle (it doesn't matter if I was or not, it's all about appearances at this stage of...getting acquainted). So I logged off, or rather, put my status on invisible. The only problem was, I was still willing him to message me. I was chatting to my friend at the same time, and she figured something was going on. I explained my situation and she very aptly pointed out that 'he has no idea that you're here, so you're being an idiot'. At which point I was consumed by a little panic and logged back on. As available. Available but ignoring him. The evil angel on my left (is it left?! I can never remember where the evil one sits) shoulder was chanting *you win! you win*.

My friend and I carried on chatting, while I kept an eye out for a notification informing me that he had messaged me. I should point out that his status was busy, probably because he was ACTUALLY busy. But whatever. An hour later, I looked at my list of friends, and guess what, he'd logged off and I had totally missed it happening. I am not sure what I would have done, but I felt that I had actually cheated myself out of a conversation. So I was a little angry at me at this point. I also realised that I had just spent the better part of two hours playing a game with myself, given 4 hadn't ever received the memo that 'this' is what people are doing now (to be honest, even I hadn't received that memo. It was simply a moment of madness).

Anyway, so I was still miserable, missing 4 and now angry at myself. The very next morning, the unthinkable happened. 4 rang me. I danced around my room for a couple of minutes (read seconds) before picking up. I had won. What had I won? Well, he got in touch first. So it's a little victory, even though it clearly proves that when it comes to this boy/man thing that is 4, I have lost my marbles. 

*BWTB shakes her head at herself at this point,  a little embarrassed laugh escapes her lips, and she summarily asks to rejoin the world of sanity*. It's a hard life, this liking a boy thing.

Ninja on a snowboard. Or something.

So I was woken up at about 4 am last night by pounding on the wall and shouts of ‘yeah’. My housemate, we’ll call her Ninja, was having loud sex with her boyfriend of 1 month. Where to begin?

Well, firstly, one should never be woken by loud sex. In fact, I am not so sure one should ever have loud sex. When did exhibitionism become cool? How about we all do our thing in private, and have a glorious glow the next day? That’s all the notice the world needs to know things are going good for you. I always think that perhaps one is trying to hard (see post on ‘Equipoise’) if they can actually concentrate on shouting in the middle of you-know-what. It’s also a shared house, so Ninja could have been a little more considerate: this is the umpteenth time in the last month that this happened. Other people in the house are having sex; they just don’t seem as hell-bent on threatening the building’s structural integrity. I guess Ninja sees things a little differently: I mean how else will we all know she has a boyfriend (Save for the fact that he sneaks into the house, but leaves his shoes by the front door?)?! Anyway, I fell asleep post-rude awakening (pun intended) and had the most awful nightmare. My limbs were cut off by a sword-wielding flying snake (all my little fears in one- nice). I am now recovered of course, but clearly I have an overactive imagination, which is also a little on the warped side. Worrying times.

Anyway so this post was supposed to be about friendship. I had an interesting phone call last night from boy number 3, Snowboard (post: marriage proposals). We talked about our static relationship, and the fact that it would never really come into fruition. This nicely led on to where we are as friends. It was weird but I felt that I had to reassure him that I would always be happy for him, and that as a friend, he would never need to hide anything from me. This got me thinking: is there something wrong with a friendship or relationship, when you have to reassure someone that you have their best interests at heart?

This was a necessary conversation with Snowboard and I. We have never really been friends. We’ve been acquaintances who’ve always wanted to be ‘more than friends’, and it hasn’t worked out. We both needed to point out that we have set our romantic feelings aside, and are now friends, which means being honest, happy for someone and always wanting the best for them (amongst other things, like good birthday presents). As fate would have it, Ninja and I had the same conversation a few weeks ago. Apparently, she was hiding her new boyfriend because she wasn’t sure I’d be happy for her. Now let’s be clear, I have no strong feelings about this boy. In fact, I like that she’s happy. So I was a little confused as to the origin of these sentiments. Ninja claims that my reluctance to ask any probing questions led her to believe that I was not happy for her. Of course, I didn’t ask questions. The minor issue of leading my own life and not being a prying gossip precludes such behaviour. If a friend doesn’t talk about something, it’s usually for a reason (and requires respect. Leave it alone, unless indicated otherwise). I didn’t think she was at risk of death or heartbreak, and there was nothing screaming ‘run’, so I didn’t feel the need to intervene, or reassure her that I wanted the best for her. I thought as ‘best friends’ (her words, not mine), that was self evident.

So now I am a little confused. Am I a bad friend for not prying? I mean I do have a sense of pride, but should I set that aside to make her feel better? Who knows? And what does reassurance do for friendships and acquaintances? The worst thing about this silly ‘are you happy for me’ chat with Ninja is how contrived things are now. We’ve gone from being friends to acquaintances. You know, a little too happy (euphoric, in fact) around each other, but not really open. The converse has happened with Snowboard. It might be too early to say, but I really do believe we may have sorted out our many issues. Funny how life works, isn’t it?!

Je ne sais quoi...Kenyan style.

Kenyans are a very resilient people. Africans in general, in fact, but I can only truly speak for Kenyans having spent so much of my waking life with them. They have a phenomenal capacity to believe, even when the signs are that the cause is not worth fighting for. I think it has something to do with the religious fervour that Africans are known for, because even I sometimes shake my head at myself (you know, out of body experience way?) when I am holding onto something that didn't even make sense in the first place, and it's five years later, but you know, there's always perhaps.

It's like the night watchman (guard, not batsman in test cricket) that chats you up as you walk home from school/work. You are affronted that he thinks you could ever be interested in him, but, spare a thought for that man. He actually believed he had a chance with you; he could see the probabilities, not the impossibilities.

Or the lady that lives in the slum, growing vegetables in a little patch of abandoned land (technically squatting). She has never stopped believing in her dream of a better life, of children that can read and write. My mum works with women in slums and visiting them always warms my heart. They go through every effort to make sure that they cook for you, and have all their sofas covered in beautifully crocheted spreads, with the decorative calendar occupying a place of pride above the wall. It's just like being at home.

I can't decide whether this belief is a good or bad thing. I mean, surely it means we spend far too much time chasing piped dreams: that job that one really can only fantasise about, or that person that you love that really doesn't even know you're alive? Or perhaps, and this is just a thought, we are pretty incredible people :-D There are few people in the world that would still be able to dream, smile, laugh and play, despite all the challenges that life throws at them, including the threat of war, natural disasters and all that badness. The best bit about that is when the stars align and people get what they deserve: like the watchman who eventually gets a girlfriend (and simultaneously discovers soap, water and body lotion), or the lady from a lowly place who takes her child to school, being illiterate herself, and makes sure 'he/she becomes a doctor'. 

I think everyone in the world should have an 'African' upbringing. We have this capacity to deal with the bad things in life, smile at challenges and figure things out for ourselves. When it's really bad, and it does get really bad, we know who to call (not an ode to Ghostbusters, even in the slightest), and they come running (aaah, too many songs on radio influencing this post). Many of my friends would benefit from this: they've been shielded from life's little struggles, which is a parent's prerogative, but they are a little on the weak and needy side. My parents didn't put me through hardship, but they certainly never shielded me from it. So I have a little of that Kenyan 'Je ne sais quoi', that inexplicable belief, and I think I am better for it.

Mecontentement....(2)

Sorry this has taken a while. The world has been kind and I’ve found myself in a Zen-like state, which is not conducive to ranting.

1. Unnecessary competition. It is ok to compete for things in this life; in fact, the rule of nature encourages it. What I find intensely annoying is when people make you their competition though you are unwilling to take part in their game (it being beneath you, and all). For example, the girl that always buys the same pair of shoes as you do, or that loves to take you shopping so you can buy everything in twos, and she’ll ‘wire the money to you later’. Seriously woman, how’s about you find your own identity?! This one’s taken!

2. Needy people. For Pete’s sake (who is this Pete character anyway?!)...grow a pair! There’s always that person that seems unable to find themselves, or handle anything in their life. Instead of ‘leaning on you as friend’, they take the smothering route, dumping even the most trivial problems on you, and even getting a little angry when you fail to acknowledge and resolve their issues. These are the very same people that take the dramatic route in life, looking for any reason to fight because somehow drama makes them seem more interesting. Don’t get me wrong, I like being there for my friends and family, just as they are for me. But when it comes to complaints about ‘this shop’ or ‘that person said’...I really have no time. Please my dear friend, go buy yourself a tougher upbringing and a sense of self worth. And stop watching Days of Our Lives (like sands through the hourglass... he he he, sort of miss the theme tune).

3. Tardiness. Being late is not so much a character trait as it is a flaw. You are allowed to be late if you got hit by a bus, or like Jack Bauer, were busy saving the world and American people from destruction. If you are late because you think it’s cool, or because you were playing computer games, do kindly throw yourself in front of that bus. I am a firm believer in the two minute rule: arrive two minutes early, wait till the scheduled meeting time, and promptly leave two minutes after (idiots don’t get a 5 minute grace period. Only 4). This helps you decide which of your acquaintances are worth the time. If you are going to be late, please let me know. I might be annoyed, but at least I will do something useful with myself (ha ha...get it?!) in that time. And girls, ‘hair emergency’ does not count as a valid excuse. If you’ve got bad hair, start getting ready 2 hours earlier.

4. Automated phone voices. If ever there was an invention to be banned on grounds of causing temporary insanity, it should be the automated woman/thing/person that picks up the phone at call centres. The lady who answers telephone banking calls and gives you your bank balance on demand is ok, but the one who tells you that ‘I’m sorry the phone lines are busy, an operator will be you as soon as one is available’ is just a bitch. Surely the traditional ‘beep beep’ tone means the same thing?! All her voice achieves is making one very angry, especially when the same bad music is played over and over again, so much so that when the operator finally picks up the phone, you find yourself spewing insults and demanding an immediate solution to your problem. Even though you know that the person on the other end is a 16 year old with a sheet of stereotypic answers in front of them.

5. Cold/badly made tea. Yes, I have become English, which means I am exceedingly pretentious about my tea. And wine. So please, refrain from offering either unless you know you’ve got really good wine, or make really good tea. If you must offer a beverage, then please provide hot water, cold milk and tea bags as separate entities (with sugar on the side, though only a true African will have 6 spoonfuls in a tiny cup) and smile politely. You may also feel free to announce: ‘No butlers. Please feel at home and help yourself’. Problem solved.

Oh dear, I feel a can of worms has been opened here, and more and more things are starting to annoy me...so it probably time to stop. But before I do...

6. Phone snobbery. This is particularly annoying, especially because I have become one of those people that I hate. You know the ones who send emails from their phone so it says ‘sent from my iPhone/blackberry/android’. It is all a load of crap. Apparently we could all easily take that signature off our email settings/facebook updates, but choose not to. I mean, how else will everyone know what conformists we are?! 

*shuts her copy of Animal Farm and puts it back on the shelf, chanting, 'four legs good, two legs better' *

Equipoise.

I learnt, or rather was reminded of, a cool word today. Equipoise. I came across it with regards to medical research, but I feel it applies to many other areas of life.

There are a few days where you wake up, and everything is in balance. The job is going well, and you’ve woken up with a stellar idea, that is actually workable. The phone rings and you have a lovely wake up message from the love interest. You look out the window and voila, the weather is exactly how you want it: warm enough for that new dress that’s a little high above the knee, or cold enough for your killer boots and leggings combo that you know works for you. A day of balance. Equipoise.

Then the panic sets in: what is it that you will do that will ruin that moment? Or more appropriately, what must you avoid doing in order to maintain this feeling?

I woke up in one of those moods today. Of course it’s only 11 am, and in my panic and wish to maintain the status quo, I have destroyed it. The scales are tipping, and what’s worst, is I am unsure in what precise direction. It’s the curse of doing a little too much: over-egging every message and phone call; putting on just a little bit more mascara, lipstick and heaven forbid, foundation (plastic fantastic anyone?!); that additional scarf that makes you look as though you ran through your wardrobe and emerged wearing everything you own (yes, you nodding, I know you understand what I mean. Go on, take it off, you didn’t need two vests anyway).

I know its human nature to feel as though we ought to be applying ourselves in some profound way. I am quickly discovering, however, that this might actually be the mother of all cock ups (a position previously held by assumptions). Don’t get me wrong, there are times when action is needed, for example, breathing, or going for a wee (and work like related stuff). But perhaps we should confine our efforts to basic instinctual tasks, because being a try-hard really does nothing for us (well, for me anyway).

So here’s my new year’s resolution, only 11 days’ late: I will try and do more of nothing, less of everything. Let’s see how well this ‘less is more philosophy’ works for my equipoise (I know there is a form of grammatical error in that last bit, just struggling to work out what it is, and guess what, I’m going to do nothing about it!). 

Marriage proposals and other presents...

I spent the weekend with one of my closest friends (you know the one:so similar to you, like a sister, and so you have little else choice but to be friends? Yes, that one). We were having a mammoth catch up session where I filled her in on my boy-related angst, and she said something that struck a chord (in A major, might I say). It appears that throughout my teenage years and early tweenies, I have collected love and lust interests, but completely failed to move on from discarded ones. So I am trying to keep in touch with all the boys, and be nice to all the boys, and well, losing all the boys as well. I really should read my own blog more often- my first post on conversations seems relevant now.

Anyway, so back to my Christmas story, and the reason for that quote.

Boy #1: 458 Italia Ferrari (the one that caught fire every time it got hot).

458 and I have a chequered past. He was my first 'serious' boyfriend in university. I was 18 at the time, and still  idealistic. I had known him for a few years prior to our short-lived relationship, and he ticked all the right boxes, so I shut off the still small voice of reason, convinced all my friends that he was 'a bad boy gone good', and gave us a chance. Unfortunately I forgot to send the same memo to 458 and so he ended up keeping his ex-girlfriend close by- not really his ex at this point. I found this out after a night of cuddles and kisses, when I woke up to find him chatting on msn to said lady. So I left, a little broken and with a dark cynical view of the world. Many moons later, 458 and I repaired our broken friendship by ignoring the reason it broke, and started talking again. This Christmas, he gave me a series of well thought out dates, conversations with his mother, and showed me how well he would get on with my family. He then, as a final gift, asked me to take a chance on him as he has never been more sure of anything in his life as he is about us (I think 458 started watching Days of our Lives at some point). There is a minor issue of 8000km between us, and the fact that I don't trust him, but like any determined man (c.f. Don Draper of Mad Men), he has an answer to every problem. So here I am, trying to move on with my life, but really, all I am doing is repackaging 458 to see how he would look in the future. Yes, yes, I know. It's still bullshit, and will remain so. But it is a 458, aren't these supposed to be classic collectable convertibles, when they're not on fire?!

Boy #2: 1978 Harley -Davidson FXS (first year of full factory made motorcylces. You need bad-ass leather for this one).

Oh Harley, baby. This one is a little complicated. Harley-Davidson (HD), is a good friend of the family. He is also much older than I am, and has the 2 kids from 2 different women to prove it. He is really nice, and knows how to treat a lady. We've have had intermittent romantic inclinations towards each other for a few years, so this summer, I decided to don my helmet, and jump on the proverbial bike. While it was a great experience, it was a bit of a life crisis, as is often the case with motorbikes and old men. So just before the holidays, I decided to end things, sell my bike, and search the market for a more reliable Citroen of VW Golf.

HD was having none of it though. This is the first time that I have had to break up with the same person on two separate occasions without any mixed signals in the interim. My first attempt was met with a rather cold, but final: 'No baby. I don't want to let you go, and I don't know how you don't see a future for us'. The second attempt was more brutal and he 'understood my point of view, but thought we had a beautiful thing going, so if I wanted to ruin that, OK' and then... TOTAL silence. He has completely refused to speak to me, which I guess works well for my earlier problem of not getting rid of the past. It just feels weird. You have a 1978 FXS: it is special. They were only sold in one colour for a whole year!!! You don't throw such away, you keep them to show your kids when they are all grown.

Boy #3: Snowboard (needs something/someone on top of him at all times).

This is another relic of times gone by: we were good together, but it was the wrong time for either of us. Snowboard is lovely: he is a true gentleman (most of the time anyway), he talks about his feelings, and he is seriously good looking. But he has one fatal flaw: he is incredibly needy. I noticed the signs a few months ago, but ignored it, as we were dealing with a friendship situation, and I had probably been a lot less friendly than usual. Things spiralled out of control when he decided that he can fall in love with me but needs to know what I think. It's probably the most odd request for a relationship yet.

Snowboard: Hun, I enjoy talking to you and I miss you a lot. Do you miss me? Huh?

Me: Eh, yes I do.

Snowboard: I could love you hun, cause I think I really like you. What are you feeling?!

I asked for a little time, while I devised a way to let him down gently. He then proceeded to call me when drunk, demanding to see me immediately. He would throw tantrums if ever we were in the same place because I did not drop my friends and family and run into his arms. Heaven forbid if I didn't return a phone call or reply a text message. Phwoar. I took many hasty steps back when the madness began, as it pointed to what one can expect from a relationship. Especially after the 'I need you right now' phone calls (yes, there was more than one). Got to be stepping on the snowboard at all times, or it's just another piece of wood and unfortunately for us both, I can't handle that.

Boy #4: Is it a horse, is it a plane, is it a bike?!

I don't know what to call this one, and I can't really say very much about him, lest I jinx it, but also because it would not be fair on him. He is seriously hot though, Barry White has nothing on his voice, and other than the fact that he is about 14 years older than I am, I am quite smitten. Only time (which he might not have a lot of...Oops), will tell. 

In the words of Buble: It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me....and I'm feeling good.....

Apologies...

I am so sorry that I have neglected thee,
But the Christmas spirit, and new year's eves,
Have been occupied by handsome and not so handsome men.

I promise to update thine beauty, once my life is sorted,
And give you more love this month, till resolutions broken.
So the story soon begins...

Followers, I shall tell the tale of how I have handled, or bungled, 4 offers of marriage.
In one week.

With love,

Yours,

BWTB. x