Heed this raw lesson,

Dagga brilliance

I cannot help but feel compelled to jot down a word or two. Well, I think it would be cruel and irresponsible of me to not share this. We have just received free will to smoke our lungs out, get high with pleasure as we please.

Some of us have been at it and know that, now that people will not go to jail anymore for smoking marijuana, we might find ourselves faced with weed casualties soon. Unless of course, the connoisseurs shed a light on how this ish rolls.

Neh!

Firstly, you smoke your own stash. Period.

Or else you will go crazy. Or get hooked on drugs you don’t want.

You don’t know who smokes what. And to be honest, unless you have been studying marijuna strains for a while, everything is good shit if you don’t know shit.

Remember that this lesson is first hand experiences. As you know, life is a terrible teacher because the lesson comes after the experience.

If you didn’t grow it

or buy it yourself,

are not rolling it yourself,

you probably shouldn’t be smoking it!

 

And that’s the end of it.

THEE Mini Country”Wo”Man Moment

Everyone that has conversations with me for more than 30 minutes eventually gets to know about that dream car of mine. Yes, the Mini CountryMan. It was love at first sight, upon stumbling into a pic purely out of utter coincidence. im not car crazy, have never been, so I never even bother with car mags. Somehow it landed up in my hands, with the Cooper as a “to be realeased” car of the future.

THEE Mini CountryMan

I made a promise to myself that it will be my next car when I get rid of my beloved car. The moment came, I sold my car, and I was ready for my Mini. Until I fell in love with a beautiful house, and the Mini took the back seat, For now. Till I get used to the hefty bond. Only in a few months time.

A few months have turned into forever, they are fast becoming a year or two. I’m shocked, happy, anxious, disappointed all at once. I’m living in my dream house, but my mini just seems to be further in the future.
To point that now, there is the latest kind of country.

The one that involves deliberating before taking each and every journey, the logistics have to be carefully planned. Ima be taking a “TAXI”. Yes, I take taxis now, and it never crossed my mind that after 6 years of owning a car, acquired in one single payment, I would land up here again.

I’m writing this, standing outside McDonald’s waiting for a friend, but now I can’t exactly just stand here and type away.
ː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖NomnaMː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖
I’m compelled to grab a bite/drink close-by so I can be comfortable while waiting. This has become a trend and I seem to find coffee shops in weirdest corners in this town. There are plenty of bars too but I’m not in habit of being a “DRUNK PEDESTRIAN”, not that I promoting drunk driving either. The coffee shops are safe.

The strangest of all is, I usually never have money this time of the month, let alone that it’s January!! Guess what, when you ride taxis, you HAVE to have cash. More than your taxi fare even. The unexpected always happens, like when I realised the other day, on my way to work, that I took the wrong taxis and landed up on the opposite directions of where I was going. Or the following day when it started raining just when I was beginning my journey, and knew that it would take a miracle to have a direct taxi on time and the best action plan was to divert the route to the one going faster before I got soaking wet. And the last thing you want to be is a 31-year-old, dressed to the nines, begging for taxi fare home!!

So, there’s always cash. You know what, somehow I’m enjoying life in its purest ordinary form. my body is recuperating from binge drinking, and my wallet has taken a breather from all those Thursday night outings with the girls. I’m learning, and compelled to find entertainment in ways I even forgot existed.

You know what this is what I realise, I am in a Mini Country “Wo”Man moment. I mean, look at me, and see what I mean.

ː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖NomnaM2ː̗̀☀̤̣̈̇ː̖

I’m dressed like I just jumped out of the eighties. The junk sale bag to match. I’m wearing flip-flops because its enough to walk in heels to work and back, I am not cruel enough to punish my feet further. I’m without makeup, face it, makeup and endless walks in the sun do not mix. The face is greasy, I am yet to find sunscreen that doesn’t grease up my face.

WHAT COULD BE MORE COUNTRY THAN THIS?

AND GUESS WHAT, I’m loving every minute of it! My view is broader, and somehow, the most important factors are even better than before.

So, this is MY mini country”wo”man moment, and guess what, I will ride it all the way to the sunset with a smile and a cheerful heart!!!

The packaging is different, but it still is.

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS, you make lemonade, and sell it at a profit!!!

Chronicles of a super tall woman

I like him, he’s cool. I wanna talk to him, pick his mind, talk about life. if only he can come closer, say hi, give me an awkward “strangers” hug. Poor guy eventually catches on and walks over then oh-ooh, I can see the top of his head!!!!

Where are all the tall men out there?

I wanna cuddle up in bed next to him and feel like a tiny, protected, fragile me and disappear in his arms. Instead of trying to bend my legs so they don’t stick out in bed, and curl up behind him so he doesn’t realise my legs can go as far as his waist.

I want to be lifted off my feet and spun around like a 5-year-old. And kissed all the way to the bedroom in his arms.

Instead of walking all the way there with my head hanging low because, poor guy thought he had muscle enough to carry all 171cm of me.

And rather found himself bruised all round balancing with everything in sight before finally, with the last breath remaining in him, throws in the towel and admits defeat.

Unlike most women I know, shoe shopping becomes the worst pain of them all, not because my feet are so big they only fit in the men’s section.

To the contrary, they are a perfect 4, but every pair I fall in love with means that I bow down at every door and everyone talking to you starts suffering from neck strains looking up at you.

Thank Gawd the “turned-up” pants and jeans have become the trend, saving you from being embarrassed about your pants and jeans that never quite touch the ankle (qatha out)… lol.

Hair up-dos have become a no-no, you are already taller than everyone else in the club, men women combined, you don’t wanna make matters worse extending the inches!!!

The store version of a micro mini skirt is enough to cover your waist, or perhaps be creative and make it a boob tube, otherwise stick to the normal ones that serve to cover everyone else’s legs but yours.

 You see the runway called life?

Walk tall, Tallie.

Giraffes get to taste the freshest, ripest fruits without much effort.

Isn’t that awesome?

So can you,

Enjoy the ripest fruits of life.

Be You!

The lowdown on ‘HAIR’piness

pexels-photo-794064.jpegMorning blog

I’m home on a Thursday evening watching my favourite TV program, America’s Next Top Model, one of the few that can make me turn down a night out in town with girlfriends, there are very few of those because I’m not a TV person, more of a pen and paper book crazy. And I watch this very pretty freckle faced woman cry her eye balls out, because the theme for the day was, “I will make you a model” makeover for all contestants, and her makeover included cutting her very long hair crop short. Personally I had never even noticed her out of the 12 girls until her hair was cut short. All of a sudden I could see the deep blue eyes and the beautiful freckles sprinkled all over her rosy cheeks. And she really just stood out from all the contestants, she was beautiful, the kind of beauty that you find yourself thinking, “The universe must have really paused and watched her being created, perfection to the T”. It had all been disguised by the long hair.

So the poor girl is crying hysterically the entire night, and at the photo shoot, and during the feedback sessions that they have with Tyra. She is convinced that she is the ugliest woman on earth now that her hair has been cut short. She looks at the mirror and howls; she doesn’t see all that beauty she possesses, because her hair is gone. This got me thinking, to what extend does a woman’s hair define her beauty and her worth?

At that moment it crosses my mind that, I have been informed many times that women with short or no hair are not appealing to men. They feel threatened by her, that she is not feminine enough, and rather appears rough on the edges. This comes from many others, men and women, that have been quizzed on this topic, and also a dear friend who loves them weaves and I must say, she looks really good in them. She is very pretty, has explored dreadlocks, short hair etc, and she looks really good in weaves. I, on the other hand, have always preferred to go natural and short. At some stage I even grew locks, mainly because I thought they would give me options to do all the beautiful styles that I see fellow sisters rocking, without actually buying 100% HUMAN hair!!

It is not that I have anything against weaves per se; it has more to do with the fact that I personally look best in my short almost no hair, or so I thought. And I have been told many times. See, my high school was very strict with all students having short, untreated black hair. I got used to that look and wouldn’t even bother to do anything different even during holidays because I’d have to cut it again when schools open. And even when I proceeded to tertiary and the workplace that became my trademark. I have always loved my natural look, and not even dreadlocks can match up to how I feel when I have no hair whatsoever. Or so I thought, until I was compelled to put a weave on.

You might think why do I feel I was compelled? Well, I was single, and there was a funeral in the family, the deceased happened to be a male cousin who had plenty of gorgeous friends that came now and again for condolences. And obviously they would all be at the funeral, and did I mention they were gorgeous? And I had been single for months and craving a little bit of attention? I had cut my locks because it was in summer and hot, me not used to so much hair on my head they drove me crazy. I kept them, so I can re-attach them again at a later stage. So I decided to explore the weave options, because they would serve both purposes, my hair will grow longer so I can reattach my locks, and hopefully I will look good enough to attract a few suitors at the funeral.

The weave worked, everyone noticed, at work, at play, I had never ever had that much attention from people about my hair before. I looked gorgeous! Yet I was feeling lost, in a foreign world and very irritated by the weave. I felt like I was betraying me, by succumbing to what didn’t come naturally to me, and I really couldn’t embrace it. Eventually I removed it and went back to what I’m comfortable in, my locks, but the question still remained at the back of my mind,

TO WHAT EXTENT DOES A WOMAN’S HAIR DEFINE HER BEAUTY AND HER WORTH? And so I ask….

I do, or do I?? the single 30 something dilemma

## 1

How likely is it that when one says they just want time to be with themselves and nurture that and not get into a relationship, ever just about that? And it’s not the fact that we might just be trying to find a way to cope with being on our own and maximise the time constructively. Not that if “prince charming” (the dream guy) cropped up and had everything in your list, you would turn them down based on “I’m still attending me” line.

Or maybe just the fear of repeating history you don’t wanna relive is hindering you to be open to the idea that having hope and putting yourself out there is not so bad either.

##2pexels-photo-892093.jpeg

This is my observation.

The older the potential bride, the less reluctant and likely they are to get married.

The thing is, at age 30 and above you have set goals for yourself. You know exactly what you want and most times it becomes impossible to neither change nor adjust those to accommodate someone else’s.

Marriage by nature was made such that the man practically figures himself out and the woman fits into that configuration that has been designed and set by the man.

When you as a woman, a fully grown woman who has managed to figure things out for yourself without a man, have to now squeeze into the man’s configuration, it gets challenging and most times leaves you with a hundred ex’s.

A woman that marries young figures herself out within the marriage and plans her life around the configuration. Their set values and principles are moulded around and by the commitment they have made to each other.

So what happens to the older potential bride?

Do you give up your own dreams and plans and values for the sake of having someone and reconfigure yourself into the man’s plan?

Or do you stick to your own and spend the rest of your life in the dating scene, trying to find the one guy who is willing to take you as you are with all that you have and hope for, and make it work?

Or, do you build yourself a mansion, fill it up with all things beautiful God and man made, fulfil your wildest dreams and desires and live your life happily single ever after?

Or, do you become a nun and forget about ever touching a human being other than their hand?

mmhhhhmmmmmmm….

I would love to hear some views on this one.

Penny for your thoughts?