Month: September 2011

Thank You God For Good Friends!

Hey guys,

I got a lot of feedback from people on topics to write about.  Most by email and a few on bbm from friends. Thank you to those who sent in ideas.

The first topic I’ll tackle is friendship. I don’t know what I did to God but he has blessed me with the most amazing friends. I don’t mean to play ‘my-friends-are-better-than-your-friends’ but really, my friends are better than your friends! Lol. The bible talks about ‘a friend that sticks closer than a brother’ and I can say in all sincerity that that is the calibre of friends that I have. They are like blood…but better because they aren’t obligated by biology to love me…they have chosen to do so of their own free will and that makes it even more special.  *reaches for kleenex*

I’m no expert on friendship so rather than attempt to lecture you, I’ll give you examples of the things I love about friendships, using my friends as examples. Friends, this isn’t a roll call of my favourite friends so if you’re not on here, it doesn’t mean I love you any less. Think of this as a sample. *kisses*

I’ll start with Stinkus. Stinkus is like that pillar in your house the council won’t let you tear down…immovable. We’ve been friends since primary school and she is my oldest friend. I call her ‘the one that gets me.’ We have that old married couple thing going on.  She’s been a part of my journey and if there’s anyone that can tell you about me, it’s her.

Then there’s MoinMoin, the one who time and distance cannot get rid of. I call her the ‘low maintenance one.’ She’s the one I don’t see or speak to often…but it doesn’t change things between us. We just have each other back. It’s very uncomplicated.

Meet MsLuffa. I call her ‘my love at first sight.’ I met her about six years ago and we bonded instantly. She’s the straight talking one, the one that isn’t afraid to tip a bucket of cold water over my head to wake me up to reality. Yet in spite of her plain speaking, she is very sensitive and intuitive.

Then there’s Sparrow, the one I call ‘my lover.’ She is the one that romances me, she is like a toaster. She knows how to woo me.  If she were a guy, she’d be a successful player…’cause she romances plenty others too and yet manages to stay on top of everyone.

Meet CrawCraw, I call her ‘the real one.’ She’s the one I’m most likely to divulge my most shameful secrets to because she has an air of safety about her…and doesn’t play judge. She is also the one who can really relate to my life experiences and gets my life like no one else.  

Then there’s TheMan, the one that lurked, chose and is now stuck with me. I call him ‘the rock’s rock.’ I’m usually the strong one but even the strongest of human beings needs a shoulder to lean on and he is that shoulder for me.

I’m very grateful to have friends (on this list and off) who encourage and support me in every way… spiritually, materially, emotionally… going over and above the call of duty. We disagree and have differences of opinion but we’re incredibly civilised about handling our differences. Sometimes I ask myself if it’s normal that my friendships are 100% drama free. God bless you all for keeping my stress levels down.

Here’s to good friends. Love you all more than I love indomie!!!

xxx

Waila

This & That + Blog Ideas

Last night I caught up with my very dear friend, MsLuffa. I didn’t realise how much I’d missed her till I saw her. She is one of my best friends and I hate that I don’t get to see her as often as I’d like. Anyway, our conversations are always very interesting. We talk about any and everything and we almost always see things differently. I call her my perspective friend because she never fails to show me the flip side of the coin. The bone of contention last night was early marriages…21year olds getting married to be precise. Personally, I would be extremely concerned if my 21 year old child came to me asking for my blessing to get married. MsLuffa on the other hand was very open to the idea. While we both agreed that at 21, some people are potentially mature enough to make such a massive decisions, I couldn’t see past the number 21. At 21 I had just graduated from University. I hadn’t a clue what I wanted to do with my life and after three years of living in a bubble, I was thrust into the big bad world rather unceremoniously. That’s me though; other people’s experiences are undoubtedly different. I know that some people don’t go down the University route and at 21, many have considerable work and life experience and have done some extraordinary things with their lives. That notwithstanding, I still feel there’s no rush. In America, they would only just be legally allowed to consume alcohol! Anyway, I will cross that bridge if I ever come to it.

Have you ever felt like a ‘weist’? Do you currently feel like a ‘weist’? Weist equals waste for those of you not privy to the inside joke. I open the papers and see people my age, worst still, younger, doing extraordinary things with their lives. They are living out their dreams while I lie in bed dreaming. I usually console myself by telling myself everyone’s destiny is different and God will make all things (in my life) beautiful in his time. I sincerely believe that but I also know that there are things I could and perhaps should be doing to get closer to achieving my goals. Faith without works is dead. DEAD! I need to get off my backside and start being proactive about my dreams and visions for my life. I AM NOT GOING TO BE A WEIST!!!

Have I told you how much I despise T-Mobile?! If I haven’t please let me tell you no; I detest T-Mobile with all my heart! It’s been five years since they stepped on my toes and I’m still chewing on that beef. I need deliverance. When I beef a company, I beef hard. Why am I telling you this? So that you can help me warn 02! They are really trying me these days. I haven’t upgraded my phone in over 36months and now that they’ve finally released a phone I want, they won’t give it to me free of charge. A loyal customer like me! When I tried the once foolproof tactic of threatening to cancel my contract, the silly sales rep offered to give me my pac code! She called my bluff!  LMAO! I knew I wasn’t ready to end our turbulent relationship so I hung up before she could generate the code. Warn them, they are testing me!!!

I’m toying with ideas for a new series. Is there anything you would like me to write about? By anything, I mean anything.  I’m ready for a challenge. If there is, just drop a comment on this post and I’ll get cracking on it. I’m seriously lacking inspiration at the moment.

Happy Thursday mes amis!

xxx

Waila

Not So Brief Catch Up

Hello people!

I’m so happy I’m done with the monologue series. I was hit by a severe case of shingalinga after the first instalment and but for some of my faithful readers who bullied, harassed and insulted me, I doubt I would have delivered…so thank you!  Lol.

Work has been really busy the last few months and trying to get time off is a nightmare. I had two holiday requests turned down earlier in the summer so I was relieved when I managed to get the last couple of weeks off. I packed my bags and headed off to Obamaland to rest, have fun and explore some options for the future. It was awesome!  I started off in Chicago and then hopped over to Boston to crash some business school parties. Chicago was all about shopping and doing touristy things but Boston was a refresher of freshers week. My friend Sparrow just started business school at Harvard and walahi, if anyone tells you they went to business school to learn, they are lying! I got dragged to party after dinner after drinks (not that I complained) and I tell you, freshers can’t compete with those guys. I found myself, a responsible adult, in a room full of intelligent high flying learned professionals playing flip cup! I’d never even heard of flip cup before I walked into the room and I am ashamed to tell you that I’m a natural at it. Lol. For those of you who don’t know what flip cup is, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flip_cup . I wasn’t about to punish myself drinking beer so Sparrow and I cheated and substituted beer with sprite. Good times.

Dear Americans, please permit me to give you an unsolicited lecture.  The word gratuity refers to a gift or reward, usually of money, for services rendered; a tip, something given without claim or obligation. As it is a discretionary reward, you should not expect to be tipped for a service you have been paid to provide.  IT IS NOT BY FORCE. I work hard for my money and reserve the right to spend it as I see fit. I resent the tipping culture that has poisoned the American service economy. I hop in a cab and tell the driver where I’m going. He doesn’t say a word to me, not even ‘hello’. The driver spends the entire journey listening to music in his local language, munching on a cheese burger and noisily sipping coke from a disposable cup. I get to my destination, pay him the fare showing on the meter and he has the audacity to demand a tip. For what exactly?  The stench of cheese and grease that infiltrated my nostrils, the sound of him sucking on a straw or his complete lack of manners and cabbie etiquette? I think not.

The whole tipping thing really gets on my nerves. Demanding a tip is in extremely poor taste and such vulgar behavior should not be encouraged. Another cab driver in Boston (who did nothing to earn it) was given a tip he thought was too little and demanded we give him more. I almost convulsed in anger. If you get a tip, be grateful, if you don’t, think about ways you can improve the delivery of your service. I have no problem tipping as long as I feel I’ve been served well. Taking my order and dropping a plate of food in front of me doesn’t automatically earn you a tip. Did you smile at me? Were you pleasant? Did you make me feel welcome? Did you attempt to engage me in conversation, however briefly? Those are some of the things that will earn you my spare cash. I do not tip for tipping sake and I will not be bullied into doing so. If you want a tip, work for it. Lecture over.  

In other news, it has finally rained in the desert that was my love life and I have discovered that my heart isn’t made of cement after all. Phew!

I have some ideas for this blog and I’m still trying to decide if they are good or not. Some of you know that I sing and instead of just singing in the shower, in front of my dressing mirror and at church, I’m toying with the idea of doing covers and originals (I write too) and uploading them on here for you guys to enjoy…or not. I’m just worried that I won’t be consistent and those of you that bully me will have fun harassing me. Lol. I’m also thinking of creating new pages on here and moving my other blog (Waila Waits) so that this blog becomes a one-stop-shop for all things Waila. I hate clutter and information overload though so I’m not sure about that. Good idea or bad idea?

I’ve rambled enough for one post but before I stop, I want to thank you all for reading. I’m amazed that anyone is interested in what I have to say and you’ve really encouraged me and fuelled my dreams. God bless you plenty!  I’d like your opinions as to what you think I should do to make this blog more interesting so pls, comment away!

xxx

Waila

Monologue Series: The Future of My Past

I didn’t care how many guys I’d slept with till I met and married Dele, making him an object of ridicule in all of Lagos. I warned him though, I told him everything. I told him about the many politicians and elite business men that had peeked through my curtains. I told him about the many wealthy bachelors that had bought me cars, designer gear and even a flat in Lekki, in exchange for you know what. I told him about the time the vice-president’s wife sent thugs to beat me up because someone told her they saw me with her husband in the Louboutin store in Paris. I told him everything. Of all the things I said, the only thing that seemed to register was that I’d left that life behind. He didn’t care that I’d sold my body for money, didn’t care that I’d slept with married men. All he cared about was the me I’d become, the now, the future.

I was stunned when he asked me to marry him. I’d made my peace with being unmarried for the rest of my life, I didn’t think any man could, would marry me. His sister was in hysterics when she heard about us. His entire family thought he’d taken leave of his senses. They were convinced he was under a spell, cast by me of course. I resent the way they treat me, like slime from a grotty sewer…but I don’t blame them, I’d never have let my son or brother marry a girl like me. The first time he proposed, I said no and didn’t say yes till he’d asked seven times. That’s my Dele, stubborn as a mule. When he makes his mind up there’s no changing it. That final time, I realised just how resolute his love for me is. I said yes.

I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have married him. I was foolish to think I could get away from my past. Every time we attend a function, it mocks me. The men I’ve sold my body to follow me around like flies following shit. I can’t escape them. How could he not mind knowing that half the room has been serviced by yours truly?! They smile at him knowingly and sneer at me with their upturned noses. The more daring ones verbally taunt him. Trust my Dele not to react. Sometimes I wonder if he’s human. The other day we were having dinner at Four Points when that obnoxious twerp Kola Kuti walked in with his entourage of pot-bellied loafers. I never could stand the guy but while others paid Dollars, he paid Pounds. I put up with his crap long enough to furnish my flat and earn a brand new Range Rover. As soon as he saw us, he came over and winking at Dele said “iyawo e o’dun gan.” I would have slapped him had Dele let go of my arm. I was so mad I could have killed Dele. What kind of man doesn’t react when another tells him his wife is a good lay?! The kind of man that would proudly marry an ex-prostitute I guess.

I screamed at him for the best part of the journey home. How could he let Kunle get away with insulting us both? I called him a coward, a chicken, a spineless excuse for a human being. I regretted the words shortly after they passed through my lips. His eyes glazed over and for the first time since we met, I didn’t feel safe sitting next to him.

“When I decided to marry you Kemi, I knew what I was letting myself in for. The jibes, the sniggers, the looks…I knew they were part of the package. If I decide to beat up everyone that dares insult us, it’s all I’ll be doing for the rest of my life. Besides, I refuse to let them get the better of me, of us. I’m sick of having this conversation. I’m over your past Kemi, when will you be too?”

My guess is never.

Monologue Series: A Slice of Lime

“I think we should break up.”

“Huh? Where did that come from?!”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I don’t think we’re right for each other.”

“Babe, how can you say that? Did I do something wrong? Tell me so I can fix it!”

“Darren, you’ve done nothing wrong. You’re perfect, you’re just not perfect for me.”

“Sorry, what does that mean? Are you saying I’m not good enough for you?!”

“Babe, you’re taking this the wrong way! I’m not saying you’re not good enough for me, all I’m saying is I don’t think we are a good match.”

“Explain it to me Amanda, tell me what’s so imperfect about us!”

“You’re a great guy and I really like you but you don’t, you know, set my heart on fire.”

“Well excuse me for not knowing I was supposed to give you heart burn.”

“Spare me the sarcasm! Look, it’s over, deal with it. I need more than this. I need excitement, someone who will sweep me off my feet, plant butterflies in my stomach. I want the magic Darren and I don’t have it with you.”

He stared at me like I’d sprouted horns. “You’re breaking up with me because you don’t think I’m exciting?! Forgive me for not sweeping you off your feet with fancy holidays, fast cars and champagne fuelled nights out!”

“Now you’re being ridiculous, that’s not what I mean and you know it! All I’m saying is my heart doesn’t skip a beat when I see you, I don’t get goose bumps when you hold me and I don’t feel like my world would crumble if you weren’t in it.”

“You really should stop reading M&Bs.”

Snatching his car keys off the coffee table, he silently made his way out of my flat…and my life. A part of me wanted to call him back, to tell him I was only joking…but I couldn’t. I needed more than he had to offer.  I needed to feel something beyond love and affection. I needed passion.

I have a list, he is the list. Great job, check! Home owner, check! Gentle, check!   Kind and generous, check! Thoughtful, check! Loves me to distraction, check! Romantic, check! Christian, check! He is everything I’ve prayed for. I just didn’t think the man of my dreams would bore me to tears. He is so good, too good. He’s never been drunk, never smoked, never partied, never had a girlfriend, never had sex and wait for it…he doesn’t know who Beyonce is! Come on, even the Pope knows Beyonce! I’m not saying I want a bad boy but he’s too straitlaced. I want someone with experience; been there, done that and had enough but with a little swagger left over. I know he’s a good man and will be a fantastic husband and father but what about passion, doesn’t that count for anything? All I’m asking for is a little something extra…like a glass of water with a slice of lime in it. It’s still water but with an added tang. Is that asking for too much?