Inadequate

Some times we feel like what we offer is not enough. Offering our love, our time, our loyalty even. It begins to feel like there’s just something extra that should come in from our end, but it’s not there.
I’ve been feeling that way of late about my mum. She will be 50 on the 16th of June, and for the first time, I feel like just loving her sincerely, being her best friend, being a good daughter- making her proud and being an example to my younger sisters- is not enough.

It pains me deeply that she isn’t even thinking of anything spectacular for a spectacular 50! All she wants is to get a new dress to wear to work. But she gave my sisters the money for that when school was about to resumeShe has constantly gone without so we’d be comfortable, and now when it matters most to me, I can’t reciprocate.

I feel like, being the first, I should make something happen, anything at all, no matter how small, on behalf of all the girls in the house, but nothing’s coming. No dinner, no spa treatment, no weekend get-away, just another ‘happy birthday!’ at 12am. That is not enough!

It does not feel good to not be able to  give my mum something different, something extra, for all the days I’ve said ‘I love you, mum’ or for all the sleepless nights we have had because I was crying over the most useless things. I want to say thank you mum and present her with something, just something different from word of mouth. 

I’m scared that I won’t make this one count, and my heart is beating faster at the realization that it’s not looking like I will make it count.

God is in control.
Have a great day.

Much love,

Your Girlfriend.

Romance Novels

I started reading romance novels from junior secondary school. At the time, I read them because it filled my lazy hours, then I read them because there were many of them available and I was a fast reader.

When I got to senior secondary however, I started reading the novels because I wanted what the characters had: the fiery chemistry, the love story, the happily ever after.

Nora Roberts became a fairy god-mother, she could make any story possible: between a warrior and a debutante; between royalty and peasantry; between an idealist and a realist; between two people of totally different worlds. Knights in shiny armours and damsels in distress.

And so I began to dream.

That somehow, I would find a teenager like myself that would sweep me off my feet. As tomboyish as I was, I chose to believe that there was someone who would be interested in me enough to make me want to exchange my bounce for a swirl.

I moved from Nora Roberts to Harlequin to Mills and Boons to every other name possible. I began to look for books by certain people instead of the publishing company. It became a sacred duty to read a romance novel with awe and reverence.

Years after, as I write this, I’m reading a romance Novel by Nora Roberts, one of her ‘two-in-one’s. It strikes me that the stories can be so different, yet so the same: there is always a meeting point, then a conflict, then a resolution. 

I take it upon myself now to wonder if they ever make it to the end or they join the statistics of divorced couples in the world. But of course, I’ll never know.

I don’t know when I lost the reverence for romance novels, maybe it was when I raised my head and decided to write one for myself: one with more realism than dreams.

Or maybe it was when I decided that my Knight had to be excellent for me, and not just one whose character was tailored after a ‘Hunter Brown’ or a ‘Shade Clyde’ or some other name that had no connection with the roots I constantly try to relate to.

I will write my own romance story. After all, I have started writing letters to my future husband.

Stepping Back

I moved away from my wordpress for a while, because I needed to have a clear head.

It’s always easy to want to do something because you love it, like writing, like me, until you get to a block. This block is not so much one of having nothing to write anymore, as to wanting to write it the right way.

It’s the way it is with most of us, in different things. 

A good friend put it this way on instagram: “We might need to take a step back so that we can take great steps forward”. Thank you, TushGeek.

It could be taking a step back from a relationship, or a place of work- (believe me, working for money, instead of fulfilling purpose, is the worst kind of slavery), or even a life changing deal, the list is endless.

It’s a scary, uncertain move, so most times it might feel like the right thing to do is just go ahead with whatever it is, no comma, no question mark, no fullstop: just running and running.

At the end of the day, it’s the choices we make that make us who we are.

I hear


I hear these girls talk about how men should be castrated for beating women, more, the ones who torment their wives: who rape, beat, blackmail their women. I hear them tell stories about men who beat women as a hobby, of women who stay in their marriages not because of the love, but because of shame- because they do not want to be the laughing stock of the society. 

 I hear them suggest punishments- ‘killing the man would not do so much, because he won’t feel any pain’. 

‘it’s better to cut him up all over his body, then add pepper in all the open wounds , then you can kill him afterwards’.

I hear them use famous people with bad marriages as an example, like the lady who showed the world on social media that she had a perfect marriage, until one day when she revealed to the same fooled world how she was a victim of battery and how all she had shown us that her husband had got for her was scripted. She was a good actor, on tv and in real life.

I hear them through my twenty-one year old ears.

I heard punches through my five year old ears- the ones from my dad to my mum. He was a very generous giver, he didn’t hold back. Through my five-year old eyes I saw my dad throw my mum into a gutter, drag her out and slam her against the wall. Yet, she stayed, because of us. 

Some times, she fought back, some times she was too weak to do anything except block her eyes from his hands, so that all she had left that was not broken in her body were her eye balls- to look after us.

You might be wondering how I remember, I wonder too. Somehow, I think I grew up fast, because I already had grey hair in my mind, though I have not seen it on my head yet.

I hear them say these women are fools, and I hiss out loud. Because they are the fools.

new year resolutions 

I think new year resolutions are over rated. 

Why am I writing this after almost three weeks of being a ghost on my own blog? Hardly do I know. 

But here’s what I do know: the ‘new year’ ends after the first month,  after which we all drift back into our circles of passivity and nonchalance towards a once-perceived-as- imperative goal, and the circle continues. 

I learnt something though, to set goals. Realistic goals. And work towards achieving them. And measure my progress every quarter. It makes me not so scared of being a lower when it comes to those resolutions anymore.

So these are my goals:

Read more. Love more. Talk to God more. WordPress on a constant. Be honest more. Take shit from the ones I love more. Be marriable more- serious talk. I’m so individualistic sometimes. I shake my head at myself. I hardly cook stuff to eat.

As I’m typing this, I’m taking a shit, hoping to clear my bowels for the suya I will buy. If you’re new to The Girlfriend Blog you might not get my thing with suya… I haven’t really gotten it either.

So I need to work more on how to live like there’s a second person in my life. Be more detailed,  etc etc.

This promises to be a great year. 

Hey


Merry Christmas,

Happy boxing day, 

Happy New Year

I missed it all, MIA from this blog that started in the middle of the year and became something so serious.

I can’t even ask myself why, but it makes me wonder if I’d just disappear from the radar, once I get into a relationship with someone… 

Happy new year,  WordPress family, I see that more people have joined me on this journey of ‘becoming’ that I’m on. And I’m happy. Welcome to you, newest friend, my name is Amie.

Thank you for not giving up on The Girlfriend Blog. This is my reconciliation post 🙂  it’s great to be back. See you soon my friends.

Much love,

Your girlfriend. 

Not so cliché

In all honesty, i don’t know what this picture is doing on my blog… Except maybe for the fact that i like chicken and just ate suya.

You know how not so cliché it is when you open your WordPress and read your posts, the ones where you drop so much wisdom, and you just could be a 21st century Gandhi?
… You know how not so cliché it is when, inspite of all your Instagram posts showing how in love with the world and inspired by life you are, your world at the moment is slanted at a 270° angle?

…You know how not so cliché it is when you begin to see the good in people, because you just read somewhere that you can change the world a person at a time?

…you know how not so cliché this  ‘not so cliché’ post is, because everybody uses ‘cliché’ these days, even down to a hair dryer: ‘my gawwwd, your hair dryer is soooo cliché!’+ flips hair. ?

…you know how not so cliché it is, when you don’t understand yourself, but you’re asking someone ‘do you understand me?’ And the person says ‘not really’, so you admit you don’t understand yourself either?

…you know how cliché it is that I have used the word cliché so much in this post, the entire post looks cliché to me.

I must add this one: you know how not so cliché it is, when you leave your room for a stroll at night, end up at a suya stand, and have someone buy your suya wrap for you, because you don’t have change? 

Yes, I know, I never have change these days, I just take the piece they give me to taste and swagger back to my dorm.

You Can’t Be Everywhere

We finished a fashion course in my class about a month ago, and our lecturer started a ‘moment of truth’ for everyone. It was interesting. To say the least. Grievances were aired, some were picked. People cried. I laughed. Most of the time I looked. 


Then it was my turn. My classmates told me I liked to be everywhere, do everything, Doyin said she saw me being the Tonto Dike of our generation, because I could do anything to get  anywhere: that said  by a girl who was dripping ‘ass-kisser’ all over.

Some other people, like Abraham and Seyi said I like to pretend and take the glory for something instead of sharing it with the class 😳. Tobi said I was cunning, and Seun stood up to support him, saying that someone said I had stolen her boyfriend at one time. Sade also said I was fake, because I said something and did something else, about someone else. 

 I felt a need to give a reply to all those people, standing to say what it was they said, and tell them why I would do it over and over again, where they were concerned, but wise woman that my lecturer was, she didn’t give room for response.

In summary, nobody said any thing good about me. Not one. They were all concerned with what they needed to tear me apart. At that time, was I hurt? No. I was only surprised.

Why? Because none of my friends stood to say a thing. And I went to ask them why. They said it was because they didn’t agree with all the people were saying, but it was not an avenue for argument.

So many people said so many things, but I went away with one important thing: life is not about proving yourself to people. They will say what they want to say, true or not. You have to live. Learn when you must, but never conform to everyone’s expectations.

And since this blog is not about me being a Disney princess and having everyone fall at my feet and brushing my mane, I can go to sleep soundly, knowing there are people who do not like me, and I am just as human a being as everybody else. I do not try so hard anymore to be ‘liked’.

While I admit that it feels really good to be the Belle at every ball, and have people rooting for me, I have come to the point where I ask myself ‘what if they don’t root for me, will I die? And I feel so great when I shake my head mentally and agree that I’m just okay, whether I’m a favourite or not.

How they sit back and talk

I wrote a post on innocence some time ago, and a friend I made here, who goes by the name of Purple Butterfly made a wise comment…she’s like Grandmother willow in Pocahontas… Sage 😀

She said people easily judge people, and I agreed. I still agree today, I will agree still in the many years to come.

The sad truth is, even I am guilty of hasty conclusions: it’s so easy for me to give someone a once-over (Or is it one-over? Correct me please) and condemn them to a zone or a place in my head.

Some people will class you based on what they see you wear, some do it based on where they see you. Some, because in their own precious world, you are beneath them in every sense of the word beneath.

why?

I have gotten tired of asking questions into space that can not be answered. Instead, I turn the microscope on me, to enlarge my actions on a culture dish and examine myself. It has become a thing for us to just tear someone apart at one glance. 

Another fine lady here, the bosslady of the Lipgloss Mafia gave a serious talk on girl codes and I felt my neck nodding on its own. But apart from girl codes, human codes are needed. It’s not only girl to girl relations, or guy to guy, but everybody to everybody else. Maybe I should draw up a list of that one.

The world would be a much, much better place if we treated each other with as much love and respect as we want to be treated. 

That said. My exams were supposed to end yesterday, but our lecturer didn’t set our questions, *inserts eye roll smiley* so it was pushed to today, and the time isn’t still sure. *inserts another rolling eye smiley* 

Good morning, have a blessed day and make sure to show some love today.

The sooner we realise this, the better for us all

Much love,

Your Girlfriend.