Moments and memories

Have you ever had one of those days where one thing goes unexpectantly wrong and that’s it, you feel the rest of your day going down in crumbs?

That’s what happened to one very stressed out bride; my friend. Her wedding day – the day that will change the rest of her life – started, as expected, extremely early. I showed up early to take her to her appointment and as we were coming close to the beauticians place, she received a message that no, we were an hour too early for her appointment.

Now, if you’ve met a bride, or been a bride, and just moments before the big day you find your plans not going as expected, will send any girl into a frenzy; bridezilla or not. But my friend, as it turns out, was very calm – in a sense. She kept apologising for wasting my time; obviously she felt like she was burdening me.

– side note here: most brides always expect everyone – family and friends- to go out of their way for them because they are ‘the bride’. So it felt really good to be in the presence of a bride that didn’t think only of herself and her endless dramas, and cared more about inconveniencing a friend.

So back to the point, we figured there was no point in going back home; being a Friday, and with the crazy traffic expected at 12 pm. So instead we decided to go and enjoy a yummy dessert of pancakes and icecream.

So, what could have been a downer on one of the most important days of my friends life, was turned around and spun into a lovely dessert. I figured why waste time waiting idly, when you can turn those endless minutes into a moment for life. And now my friend will remember her wedding day as not being too early for her appointment but going out for dessert and having a breather from the minuscule details that bring a wedding together.

We made the most of the moment. And that is how life should be. We need to stop looking at the glass of milk as being half empty or half full; instead look at it as a glass that belongs to us, and that we can do anything we want with it. That is life. It gives us moments but it is up to us to make the most of those moments and turn them into memories we can hold onto for the rest of our lives.

Have any of you experienced anything similar?

If yes, then good on you for taking a moment and turning it into a memory, one you will cherish for the rest of your life.


Poetry Coursework 

-Side note: the poems written in blue font are links to the poems, should you wish to read them first before reading my analysis of them when I was 16. – 
Women are commonly referred to as extremely ‘emotional creatures’. This stereotypical name tag given to women in general may not always be true. Some women do not express their emotions at all, whilst others are attention seeking-drama queens. However, a woman does have emotions; we all do (yes, even the men), and thus their display of emotion, or lack thereof, cannot and should not be held against them. Hence, I have chosen to base the choice of my poems on this particular theme; the ways in which a woman expresses her feelings.
These are not only romantic sentiments as found in the poem Remember by Christina Risotti and in Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, but actually the passion of a mother in A Mother In A Refugee Camp by Chinua Achebe, the admiration of a daughter Poem at Thirty-Nine by Alice Walker, and even the zeal of a woman speaking of herself as simply a woman as found in the poem Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. In order to show the contrast in the approach to emotions in the use of poetry of the male and female species I will explore Sonnet 130 by William Shakespeare . This is so I can have a solid argument on the theme I have chosen; the emotions of a woman.

To begin with I would like to express my views on Remember by Christina Rossetti. This poem is spun by the hands of a woman in love. At this time in her life, Rossetti learned she was dying and therefore, it is believed by many critics, this is the reason for this heartfelt declare of her love for the one man who she could not have. Rossetti has made clear her undying love as well as her impending death clear to the reader, from the very first line. She expresses her wishes as though in a love letter to the beloved and through this we see that her love has been immortalized by the exploit of poetry. This love and desire of hers can be seen when Rossetti asks her lover, in the first line, to ‘remember’ her when she has gone ‘far away’. Her farewell note comes in the last line when she asks her love to not ‘be sad’ when he remembers her. This shows that her love runs deep enough that she prefers to not be remembered rather than have the love of her life to be distressed in any way. This true love is also seen in Browning’s Sonnet 43.
Sonnets, particularly, are categorized as declarations of love in the form of poetry. Sonnets are an old and popular form of poetry. One usually links sonnets to William Shakespeare; who wrote over 150 sonnets. Sonnet 43 is a statement of Browning’s love as she compares it to the most basic human needs; – the sun, thus emphasizing her strong, deep love. Through personification of the words Being and Grace, Browning expresses her passion for this person in her life and this affects the reader as these are complex characteristics found in humans, yet are thought to be simple and not given much attention to. When Browning devotedly proclaims that she ‘shall love thee better after death’ she, consequently, proves her love to hold such ‘depth’ that even after death she will not only love her man, but love him ‘better’.
Nonetheless, sonnets are not always written as a proclamation of love, as in the case of Sonnet 130. It is a popular belief in the literary world that William Shakespeare wrote poems about a beautiful damsel, who he loved; many have asked to whom they are dedicated to, due to the compassion portrayed in his poetry. However, this certain sonnet ‘breaks tradition’. The style and language of the poem is the same yet the meaning behind the carefully chosen words of each stanza hold a diverse meaning once looked at closely. To use an example, ‘roses damasked, red and white, but no such see I in her cheeks’, to compare the unusual comparisons to Shakespeare’s other work. The roses are possibly an allusion to the rose known as the York and Lancaster rose. Reference to this rose was made in The Taming of the Shrew where Shakespeare declares, ‘Such war of white and red within her cheeks’. This, furthermore, emphasizes the change in Shakespeare’s writing. Sonnet 130 is Shakespeare’s pragmatic tribute to his uncomely mistress, commonly referred to as the dark lady because of her ‘dun’ complexion. In my opinion, this is the first poem in which a man’s true love is portrayed. This statement of mine may be questioned yet it will be agreed that most poems follow the norm and talk about beauty and base their love on this beauty. These words of

Shakespeare betray us; he talks of revulsion towards this ‘hags’ appearance yet to end his proclamation, Shakespeare informs us of his love for his woman with ‘ eyes nothing like the sun’. The ordinary beauty and humanity of his lover are important to Shakespeare in this sonnet, and he deliberately uses typical love poetry metaphors against themselves. It is for this that I chose to use this poem to apply emphasis on the fact that emotions may also be shown by men, even they show them in a miscellaneous, completely different way.
There are countless other poems of love in the world yet the one type of love only women can experience is that of a mother. This type of love is unique and those who have felt it consider themselves to be special for just bestowing love unto their child. The love for a child from the mother is undoubtedly highlighted in the poem A Mother in a Refugee Camp where Chinua

Achebe talks about the feelings of a mother watching her child, her own blood, dying and not being able to do anything about it. Achebe describes the love in such detail that even those readers who have not experienced motherhood receive a taste of what it is. I say this due to the details of the mother immaculately grooming her child who is undernourished, and yet continues to do so when she does not even know if her child will live to see another day. It is this love that moves the reader, especially when Achebe concludes by stating in the form of a simile that this act of love is ‘like putting flowers on a tiny grave’. The mother’s actions, in another scenario, would be considered simple yet at this particular time holds a great significance to the mother; it could be the last time she is with her child. The fact that even though she knows her child is dying, the mother still hopes and stays strong by performing the everyday ritual of grooming her child is brought to the reader’s attention and confirms that the mother has love in her heart, a love that goes so deep that she does not even show her fear of the inevitable death of her child.
This parent-child connection is also seen in Poem at Thirty-Nine. However, this time with the voice of a daughter, grown up, yet still possessing the ever burning love and respect for her father. We see this respect when Walker describes her father’s attributes and how she ‘misses’ him. We experience a sense of nostalgia coming from the poet; she is remembering her father and how she misses the time they spent together. We see that she is passionate about the same things as her father who she considers as her teacher; her mentor, when she says ‘Now I look and cook just like him’. It is also made clear to the reader that the poet is saying that what she is, who she is, is because of her father. This confirms to the reader that Walker has a sense of reverence towards her father and highlights her love for her father which reaches to him even in death.
My final poem Still I Rise, is a well-known poem. This poem could be interpreted in a number of ways; racially, politically, and even socially. Maya Angelou describes herself as a ‘black ocean’ expressing her race proudly. She also conveys her femininity using phrases like ‘…. I’ve got diamonds at the meeting of my thighs?’ This is a very different view of a woman; Angelou is expressing her sexuality and proves that women are also proud of their ‘sexiness’ as Angelou puts it. This shows that woman may be considered as fickle but are strong, independent humans who can sustain themselves.

It is said that ‘woman, without her man is nothing’ yet this could also be said as ‘woman, without her, man is nothing’. These poems prove that a woman feels a number of various emotions; different types of love seen in both Sonnet 43 and Remember, a passionate anger as seen in Still I Rise, the eternal love in Mother in a Refugee Camp and the portrayal of respect and awe in Poem at Thirty-Nine. The emotions of a woman may be looked to as a weakness but they are actually her strength; these emotions are what make a woman the person she is; a cherished mother, a prized daughter, and an irreplaceable companion to man. 

The love of a woman 

Recently, I came across my year 11 poetry coursework. We were given the task of choosing 6 poems and linking them with a theme. I chose poems that all came under the theme of ‘Emotions of a woman’.

Poetry Coursework  – click on link to view.

I found that much of what I had written on these poems, I still agreed with. Women love with all that they are. There is no such thing as a halfway love. One of the ways that a woman loves; which I did not mention in my work, was the love a woman had for her friend. That love is pure and eclipses all. How, you ask? How can the love of a friend eclipse all other forms love? What about the love of her mother for her child? Or the love a woman gives a man?
See, all these are bound by some blood relation or expectation. But friendship, now that is a relationship – a love – that a woman chooses simply for her own happiness. When a woman chooses to befriend another, it is for the sole reason that she finds happiness in the other persons presence. I do not speak of the superfluous friendships that last little over an hour, but of those that last a lifetime. And the beauty of friendship is that it is a gift that can be handed to anyone with no restrictions at all. A daughter can be more than a daughter to her mother. She can be her friend. Sisters do not only need to be bonded by blood but by genuine friendship. The old can befriend the young; the sick can befriend the healthy. 
And on that note, I leave you with Sonnet 104 by William Shakespeare


Fake. Or genuine?

This is gonna be another one of my ‘disappointed with world’ rants. Bare with me.

For a week now, my closest friend – let’s call her Purple (her favourite colour) – has been on the receiving side of so much damn drama. I just don’t get it. She is one of the sweetest girls I know and always, I mean always, tries to avoid confrontations. So for someone who shies away from massive drama; for someone who apologises even when she’s not in the wrong, to be going through such petty issues, is quite big.

I was shocked when she reached out to me. She was accused of not being a good enough friend. Like what? My reaction exactly.

Friendship is not about damn expectations. It’s not about not doing ‘enough’. That is not what the word means. Friendship is love and happiness. Friendship is understanding and bloody well accepting every little flaw and quirk in your friend. For all you know, the things that come so easy to you, could be equivalent to moving mountains for your friend.

I swear, these days friendship is taken too lightly. It’s so disappointing that if a ‘friend’ does something for you its out of some duty and with reluctance, using the term ‘I have to’. NO! You don’t bloody have to! That. Is. Not. The. Point.

Purple and I always have this talk about doing things out of pleasure instead of duty. Making sure that our intentions are pure before we do anything for anyone. She gets it. It’s not that hard.

But that’s the world now. So damn fake. For so long, I just stayed away from people, for the exact reason of lack of genuinity. I was tired of the competition girls think they have to have in their lives. I was mentally exhaust of all the fake smiles and the superficial air kisses.

Recently, I started going out more, if only to get myself out of the depressed funk I found myself falling in. I though I had found genuine people. People I could relate to. But yet again, I was unpleasantly surprised by the ugliness behind what seemed like true, honest people.

I just don’t get it. I don’t get the whole ‘I did this for her, so she should do this for me’. Like why? Do you only give to get? Yes, every action does have a reaction. And yes, you do get what you give. So just imagine, the same person who you expected to return the favour does for you with the same intentions, like oh I don’t know, invite you to her party just because you invited her to yours and not because she genuinely wanted you to be there, how would you feel?

So, if you are reading this, and you find yourself doing things out of duty instead of merely for the receiving persons happiness then stop right there! Purify your intentions. It won’t make a difference to the other person; they have no idea what you’re thinking. But you do. And once you do something simply to put a smile on another persons face, trust me, you are going to feel a thousand times better about yourself. So be genuine. Simply for yourself.

The little things


Do we ever stop to appreciate the little things? Actually, do we ever stop to do a little thing. A small smile here, a nod of understanding there, even a small gesture as comfort. Do we ever stop from our ever busy lives to just look around us, and try and see the people and the plants and the animals around us? Really see them. Do we ever try to understand the people around us?

I feel as though we live in a world full of judgement, of trying to work up to being people we actually wouldn’t even like if we met them. This is the world; where girls spend hours in front of their biggest enemy, trying to perfect themselves for the world that puts so many expectations on them to be the expected image, the image the world tells them is acceptable. This is the world; where boys have so much pressure on them to do the right thing and make the right decision with very little guidance from the people they should turn to; their parents. This is the world; where parents are trying so hard to give their children a ‘life they never had’ only to miss giving their children the life they actually did have; a life of happiness and love and the little things, where they would ride their bikes to the ice cream store and buy an ice cream for 5p or MK50, and they would enjoy that ice cream. they would not sit and stare and try to picturise it from countless of different angles for so long that by the time they are satisfied with their ‘masterpiece’, their ice cream has already melted.

The little things that seemed to be little things at that time, seem like big things now. The small moments that the older generation took as part of their lifestyles are now cherished by the generations now whose souls are thirsty for more than the urban life; the online life. Life should not be about your next instagram post, or your next facebook status. To those who are reading this, if there is anyone that is reading this, I beg of you, please look for those little things that are actually the big things. Life is all about living through the little things, experiencing them with your eyes; not behind the screen of you iPhones.

What are the little moments you enjoy?
One of my favourite is that first sip of coffee in the morning.
The warmth that comes from the mediocrity of
everyday rituals that aren’t very mediocre at all.

Back on the bloggers wagon

I haven’t blogged in well over a year. I can make many superficial excuses of being busy with this, that or the other, but in reality I just didn’t know what to write about.

Should I write about my everyday job; although being extremely rewarding, it did not satisfy me in the least? Should I write about my lack of interaction? Should I write about my lack of social life? Should I write about my significant other being thousands of miles away or should I write about something as simple as the food I eat?

That’s the thing. I lost the will to write. For someone, who has lived writing every day of her life, to think ‘oh what’s the point’, is quite unsettling. I felt depressed by my aversion to putting words on a paper. I don’t know exactly what pushed me to that, maybe the feeling of being inadequate, of being a failure whilst all my friends were off becoming someone and doing something. Lord only knows.

But here I am. Back on the wagon, so to speak.

Putting words on a paper seems easy. Only words are not simply words. They are feelings. Emotions. And most of all, something real. To all of you that read this, I beg you to not put yourself through what I did. To deny yourself the simple things you take pleasure from. Because life is simple and life is short and you never know when it could all just end and you’d never get a chance to bask in those little things again. So have that cheat day and enjoy that bath. Live it up, simply.

50 shades of understanding

I read books. All kinds of books. Books I love and books I hate. 50 shades was part of both these categories for me. Now don’t judge me. Not yet.

Disguised as a love story, 50 shades was actually about a young girl who wasn’t sure about pretty much anything in life. It was about a girl who wasn’t comfortable with herself; a girl who didn’t know herself. I have a simple question. If Ana had no doubts about her personality, her looks, and maybe even her existence, would she have ever made a good submissive? Would she have even caught Christians sick attention? No.

This book highlights the need for girls who are on the verge of womanhood to stand up for themselves; to accept exactly who they are and to start making decisions based on their needs, not the needs of a man. The book itself was revolting, but the unexpected lesson it taught many of the girls, and women, who actually read the books with their minds and not their hearts, was priceless. There is no one; no man or woman; no father; no effed up boyfriend, who can make your decisions for you.

Ana actually taught us that by giving in to another’s will, all we would get in return is pain. Ana also taught us that not everyone would accept our choices and respect our decisions. And that’s okay. Christian taught us that there are some men out there who are psychologically affected but may not seem to be. Christian taught us to never judge a book by it’s cover or, in his case, a man by his success. Christian taught us that when men mess up all they’d have to do is throw shiny things at their women and their hearts would melt. That is not okay.

Being a girl is not the easiest thing in the world. There’s always someone who is making the decisions for you; there’s always someone calling the shots. If not your father, then your mother. If not your boyfriend, then your husband. And that is something else that is not okay. A woman has been given the right to make her own choices; make her own mistakes; find her own path. To take that away would be taking away a woman’s rights.

These days all around us we see women fighting for each other’s rights; they call themselves feminists. The most disappointing thought is that the majority of these feminists who have read the books, have absolutely loved them. And not for the reasons I did. They believe that the books portrayed a love story; a story of differences, between two polar opposites, which were bridged by this thing called love. These women believed that Ana’s ‘love’ was shown by giving in to torture, both physically and mentally, just to please Christian. And that’s the biggest fault in this book. It has caused strong women, with minds of their own, to start believing in pleasure within pain. This book has given another meaning to domestic violence, and that is not okay. There are many things that are wrong with this book, but the main problem was the message behind it.

I just pray for those women who believe that they enjoy being beaten by their spouses because their spouses find pleasure in it. I pray for those women who fight for the rights of others but manage to forget themselves on the way. I pray for those women who are too terrified to speak against the violence that occurs within the walls of their ‘homes’. I pray for the sick world around us; the world that believes in Christian’s and Ana’s ‘love story’.