YOU WHO FOCUS ON FIFTEEN-SIXTEENTHS OF A MAN.

So, it is no secret I love comedy series. There is this comedy TV series titled “Happy Endings.” I think I mostly like it because it is such a simple show. You know, you don’t have to think when watching it. It is not like The Big Bang Theory where they are always talking about a scientific concept, or Two and a Half Men where everything had sexual innuendo. Don’t get me wrong, I love Chuck Lorre. He is a comedic genius. But if you ever need to just sit, stare at your screen and get entertained, Happy Endings is the series to watch. So one of the characters, Dave, in this series discovers he is one-sixteenth Navajo (a Native American tribe). in one episode, the characters are having an all American thanksgiving. So Dave decides to integrate the Navajo culture to this thanksgiving. How? By adding clams to the menu. So he sets to go get clams but he is a very gullible person so he ends up losing his car and all his money before he even gets to the store. So when he finally gets to the store, seeing as he has no conventional form of currency, he has to appeal to the store keeper’s emotions by getting into how his people (the Navajos) had to endure all types of tribulations just to get to the first thanksgiving. But the storekeeper is really confused, like, “You’re white.” To which Dave replies, “you who focus on fifteen-sixteenths of a man.” I don’t know why, but that statement has stuck with me.

So I have been a little ticked off lately. Why? First, I am suffering from an acute shortage of hard copy material to read. Because yeah, I am one of those people who still prefer physical books. There is something about turning actual, tangible pages that is just immensely therapeutic. I like to think of it as a metaphor of sorts. A sense of closure, if you may. Plus I also feel like downloading books in a sense just compromises the material, not to mention illegal most of the time. Second, I have been forced to rely on blogs and Instagram captions for my reading material. I mean I love reading people’s blogs. I have to, especially since I need you guys to love reading my blog. But I just miss books. Plus, I feel like the universe has been aligning a series of slightly annoying posts for me to find. Get this, over the last few days, I have run into a lot of pasts and articles referencing Jhene Aiko’s line in Post To be, “you gotta eat the booty like groceries.” What annoys me about this is most of this people probably haven’t listened to any other of Jhene Aiko’s songs. Because if they have, they would know there is a lot more to her music than “eating the booty like groceries.” And I guess it just bugs me that she has been singing about peace and love and souls and weed for years only for her most famous line to be “you gotta eat the booty like groceries.” Because if you ask me, she is the very definition of soul. And I realize Adele just made the world emotionally unstable. But I also know it is one thing to appeal to people’s emotions and another to appeal to someone’s individuality, their spirituality, who they are as a person. And I feel like Jhene Aiko does that. She is like a singing Kendrick Lamar.

So why am I bringing this up now? It is the holidays and a lot of us are home. And maybe it is just me, but home is a little boxing. Sure, for the first few days it is fun and nostalgic and comfortable. But after a few days, you have done all the catching up you needed to do and all the excitement sort of just dies down. It is especially harder for me because I grew up a quiet withdrawn kid. And overtime, I think my family mistook that for a shy, weak personality. And maybe I was. But I have grown up and I think I can say I am very opinionated and I feel very strongly about things. I am not particularly shy, I just like keeping to myself. I don’t have a weak personality. If you ask me, I have a strong personality in my own way, it is just not loud and in your face. So every time I come home, I feel like my family expects me to fit into this image they have of me in their head. I think they expect me to be the person they think they know. And that is mind-numbingly exasperating and somewhat hurtful. And so my point is, human beings are complex and layered. There is so much to people that what we used to know about them. And I think the world, or at least this coming year, would be slightly better if we understood that. If we made an active effort to understand people, not as what we want them to be, but as who they really are, who they are becoming.

why i love this phase of my life

if you are anything like me, then you’ll know the excitement and anticipation that came with your eighteenth birthday. you know all that i-am-going-to-be-an-adult-and-i-can-do-whatever-i-please kind of thought. and if your life is anything like mine, you must have come to a rude awakening when you realized growing up and being adult is the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone. the only part about being an adult i love is that everyday, i am getting closer to moving out of my parents house. the rest just sucks. suddenly, i am supposed to manage my finances and have a concrete plan for my life. why cant i just cry and have people struggle to understand what is bothering me, and make sure i get it? who said i have to grow up?? but all the whining aside, i think i am at a fabulous stage of my life. and i am going ahead to tell you why i intend to live like tomorrow doesn’t exist.

first, it is that phase where i can comfortably tell anyone my age. i am told women have complications with such issues. i am only nineteen, i am not at home eighty percent of the time. what i do with my time, is therefore mostly up to me. its like i have the freedom to be an adult, without being all grown up. i should make mature decisions but it is also okay to make mistakes. actually, i am expected to make gruesomely stupid mistakes. i can eat junk food, and sleep the whole day away. i can make bad decisions and date jerks and pretend to regret it a few weeks down the line. i can promise myself to be better, yet do nothing to better myself. i can. why is that? i have my whole life ahead of me to get my act together.

second, every tear and heartbreak no matter how stupid, deserves to be mopped around over. it is that age where i can like guys who would never notice me.i have a right to feel bad about it, and not want to eat anything or see anyone for days. or get dumped a million times and each time is going to feel as heart-wrenching as if it was the first time. and then i can call my girlfriends and hate on this cheating, immature brute who just  wont appreciate the beauty that i am. it is okay to listen to soppy love songs, and finish a box of tissues wiping my tears. it is okay to feel like my life is over and that i am never going to love anyone as much as i loved him. i can write a million Taylor swift- like poems and replay the times we shared in my head for as long as i want to. and it is okay to delete his pictures, chat history and contact information then move on to my next heart break.

third, it is okay to fall in love. or at least what i think is love. it is okay to wait by the phone  for him to call or text me, then take a few minutes to reply just so it doesn’t seem like i was waiting. it is okay to miss him even when he is seated right next to me. it is okay to love hugging him and never want to let go. it is okay to catch myself smiling sheepishly and realize i was thinking of him. it is okay to send each other fun little texts and pledge our eternal love. it is okay to be us against the world. it is okay to go on cheap dates and nervous walks. it is okay to not know where this relationship is headed. why? because someday, i am going to be married and it will be wrong to think Tony’s dad next door is cute.

fourth, it is okay not to be a perfect student. i can miss class, not do my assignment and flunk cats. it is okay to get supplementaries and not tell my parents about it. it is okay not to know what my career trajectory is. it is okay to be unsure if i want to stop at my first degree or go ahead to become a doctor of philosophy. it is okay to feel like you are taking the wrong course in school. it is okay to bring poor grades home and watch your parents slowly lower the expectations they have for you. it is okay to want to study but that movie  just won’t let you. it is okay to procrastinate and waste time. it is okay to think that you are a Steve Jobs of sorts. you know, the kind of people who just don’t need school to succeed. why? someday,i am going to have a masters degree, bored out of my skin, thinking, “what next?”

most importantly,  this is, as its been tritely referred to, the formative stage of my life. it is when i can choose who to become, what to believe in. i can choose to work hard in school, eat healthy, aim for the stars. i can choose to be in a healthy, mutually beneficial relationship. i can choose to have fun and develop myself. i can develop my talent, learn a new skill or start saving up for  that business idea. i can choose to be as adult as mature as it gets, and yet have the freedom to be a baby with some things. i can knock on doors and ask for help. i can meet people and establish useful connections. it is that stage of my life when i could always take a few steps back just to see how far I’ve come.

i am blissfully ignorant. and that’s the best part 

BRAZIL Vs. GERMANY; THE GAME IT WASN’T; THE MEMORIES IT TRIGGERED….

Now, i am not much of a football fan. Admittedly, i know more than the average girl knows about football. But when it comes to the World Cup, i am with the other girls, it just doesn’t tickle my fancy. I can hardly wait for this madness to be over. and yes, i said madness. that’s me cluing in to one game. if the game between Brazil and Germany wasn’t madness, i don’t know what is. but it was entertaining. my only regret was someone should have given me a heads up about the humiliation i was going to witness when i let some people talk me into watching  that game. 

truth be told, i was indifferent. okay, that’s a total lie. i wanted Brazil to lose. nothing football related though. when i think of Brazil, i see brats who are used to having their way. i wanted someone to teach them a lesson. that doesn’t mean i like Germany. i hate Germany. point of correction, I hate Adolf Hitler.i hate his mustache, and maybe it was the history books in my high school library, but he had a horrible sense of style. and that guy was merciless. a trait some eleven players seem to have inherited with unmatched precision. but i digress, my point is i am not a fan of Germany either.so technically,( we could argue about the correctness of that word in this context, but i have a point to make) i was  indifferent.

that game got my mind reeling to a time in high school. a history lesson learning about the Battle of Adowa. how Ethiopians with just their bows and arrows managed to defeat a whole army of equipped Italian soldiers. obviously, i do not know the specifics of that battle. i can only speculate. i have managed to convince myself that the only way the Ethiopians won that battle is by ensuring the Italians were thoroughly traumatized. would you imagine how depressing dark Africans adorned in hides and skins only in specific places, chanting frightening war songs as they wage their bows and arrows at unexposed Italian soldiers can be? and to top it all, leading the pack was one Menelik the second who as much as try, i cant picture as a handsome fellow. the Italians must have felt overwhelmed and scampered for dear lives. traumatized. which is what i think is how Brazilians are still feeling. i wouldn’t say i understand what they are going through, but i know very few things bruise a man’s ego more than defeat in your territory. but if it’s any consolation, at least they do not have to purchase tickets back home. oh God, that is not comforting. in my head it did sound comforting though.

another thing i was reminded of was a very cruel chemistry exam we sat for. most of our scores as we liked to say could not afford us a hot dog in the school tuck shop. and that’s code for we scored less than thirty percent. what followed was intensive chemistry lessons and practicals. as exhausting as those were, they paid off. most of us aced our final examinations. so this is to Brazil, the world cup comes once in four years. that’s four years left to you guys to win the next world cup. i am sure if you will be as good as ever come 2018. but who am i kidding, i still see you guys as spoiled kids who need to be taught a lesson.

so maybe Brazil and I will never stand on common ground. but i respect them. they are a good team. which is what i could say about Germany, but thanks to one Adolf Hitler, that ship already sailed.