I walk from the train station to the office every morning. It's about ten minutes' walk, so not too far. I walk fairly quickly, mostly because I'm tall but also because I'm usually starving and can't wait to get to work so I can have my porridge.
So I try to make it there as quickly as possible, but I still like to make sure I walk enough of a distance to get the old heart rate pumping. Lately I've noticed this lady has been trying to outwalk me. She takes a different route, but we always converge at a point and walk the last few hundred feet 'together'. When we get off the train, she practically runs to get ahead of me and walks as fast as her little legs will carry her.
I noticed she was a little disappointed last week, when we came back out onto the main road, I was WELL ahead of her. I noticed this because I turned around to have a look. Admittedly, I walked that little bit faster, just because.
This morning, she bloody followed me. She took the route I always take. It vexed me so. I felt like turning around and going "What the fuck are you playing at bitch? You want some of the black girl?"
I don't know why I felt so strongly about it, or why I felt so competitive towards her. But all I knew is that I would have broken out into a sprint, if I felt like she was going to beat me.
I need help.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Wednesday, 4 November 2009
More than a feeling Pt 2
Today was a horrible day, weather wise. It rained this morning on my way to work (I work now. Did I forget to say?) and it rained on my way home. My feet are soaked and my hands are still kind of numb. But I had on my iPod on the train on my way back, and a song came on that made me smile.
Superman Lovers- Starlight
I had heard this song once before I went to France, somewhere in the background somewhere. I liked it but never really thought about it again. But one night everyone decided to go to the opening night of this club. It was me and the Irish and our French friend David. David drove and took me and my Irish dudes Des and Paul. We were going to meet everyone else there. There was this club called 'Pop Plage' that a lot of students went to and it had just been renovated. So as the Irish were students and I worked at a college, we thought it would be very appropriate for us to go there on its opening night. David had a job...a proper job. Not like me who was just a douchebag on placement.
Anyway, we go to Pop Plage, and it is TEEMING with people. I clock quite a few students from the college I worked at...the same students who hated me for being their age, but not having to go to class and having my own office. Plus I was black. Still am. Anyway, they were giving me evils because I rocked up there looking fucking awesome with my Irish posse, looking like I run tings. Obviously. They were playing some generic pop, you know, chart shit, but we danced and danced. And somehow we ended up on the podium.
There was a podium. There was a cage. Me and Des were in the cage. And then this song came on. The one part I remember of that night, is of me sandwiched between Paul and Des, laughing and dancing and grinding and jumping and screaming and just fucking OWNING Pop Plage and basically giving all them girls who were hating on me, the finger. It was awesome. I love the way the verses are lower down on the scale, then in the chorus, he kind of explodes into "Starlight!" It's just a great song.
I don't remember any other part of that night. But whenever I hear that song, I just feel happy and carefree again. And it makes me so very happy.
Superman Lovers- Starlight
I had heard this song once before I went to France, somewhere in the background somewhere. I liked it but never really thought about it again. But one night everyone decided to go to the opening night of this club. It was me and the Irish and our French friend David. David drove and took me and my Irish dudes Des and Paul. We were going to meet everyone else there. There was this club called 'Pop Plage' that a lot of students went to and it had just been renovated. So as the Irish were students and I worked at a college, we thought it would be very appropriate for us to go there on its opening night. David had a job...a proper job. Not like me who was just a douchebag on placement.
Anyway, we go to Pop Plage, and it is TEEMING with people. I clock quite a few students from the college I worked at...the same students who hated me for being their age, but not having to go to class and having my own office. Plus I was black. Still am. Anyway, they were giving me evils because I rocked up there looking fucking awesome with my Irish posse, looking like I run tings. Obviously. They were playing some generic pop, you know, chart shit, but we danced and danced. And somehow we ended up on the podium.
There was a podium. There was a cage. Me and Des were in the cage. And then this song came on. The one part I remember of that night, is of me sandwiched between Paul and Des, laughing and dancing and grinding and jumping and screaming and just fucking OWNING Pop Plage and basically giving all them girls who were hating on me, the finger. It was awesome. I love the way the verses are lower down on the scale, then in the chorus, he kind of explodes into "Starlight!" It's just a great song.
I don't remember any other part of that night. But whenever I hear that song, I just feel happy and carefree again. And it makes me so very happy.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
More than a feeling
I love music. I don't remember if I always loved it, but for at least the past sixteen years, I've LOVED it. I remember hating music when I was forced to take piano lessons and being very happy when I was allowed to quit (a decision I obviously regret now). But I have always enjoyed a nice song and I really enjoy singing.
And I have come to realise just how many of my memories are intrinsically tied in to songs. I hear a certain song, and the period of time in which that song took centre stage comes rushing back to mind. A lot of the time it makes me very happy and very rarely it makes me sad.
Girlfriend by Alicia Keys
When I hear this song, it reminds me of the time I lived in France. It was very early 2002 and I had gone to Annecy in France for the second part of my year abroad. I was living in Centre Residence d'Evires (Evires for short) and working at IPAC (IPAC Annecy, bonjour.) It was a fairly idyllic time. It took me a while to socialise, but eventually I became really good friends with the Irish colony living in my building. They were the only acceptable people to hang out with. All the French people who lived there all appeared to be societal rejects, but that's for another day.
Alicia Keys had just released her first album but I was still immune to her apparently sizeable charms, even though Fallin' had already become the song of choice for talent show auditionees across the world. I myself preferred India.Arie and was loving 'Brown Skin' in a big way. So Paul, one of the Irish, lent me his bootleg version of 'Songs in A minor'. Girlfriend was the first 'proper' song on the album since the first track was an Intro.
I would play this CD a lot, especially on a Saturday morning as I was getting ready to go into town to knock about. So the first piano chords of this song always reminds me of coming in from the shower and picking out my clothes. I'd then sing along while I was getting dressed and feel pretty happy. I liked the way the piano sounded so jazzy, then it suddenly switched to a thumping drum machine and her voice comes in and it sounds slightly out of time "Maybe silly, for me to feel this way about you and her." I loved the lyrics and the backing vocal, and I especially loved chiming in on the chorus "I think I'm jealous of your girlfriend, although she's just a girl that is your friend." I'm sure the girl in the room next to me was dead annoyed but I couldn't help it. The lyrics were simple yet they really made sense and even though I was single and had never before experienced the feelings she was talking about, I was often the girl-friend the girlfriends were jealous about.
I'd then fast forward to Butterflies.
This song has such a 'sing-a-long' quality to it, I simply couldn't resist. Sigh! I loved the simplicity of the production. Just her and the piano. Then the backing track comes in near the end. It's so melodic and so pretty. I hear it, and I'm taken back to night time in Evires. I'd play that song in the evening, mostly because I found it very soothing and I enjoyed hearing it as I lay in bed reading or just staring into space wishing that Cute French Guy (who did indeed give me butterflies) would stop being so nice to me and ravage me behind the ugly building that housed IPAC.
D'Angelo- Playa Playa
This song is from Voodoo, the only D'Angelo album I own but one of my absolute favourites. I also borrowed this from Irish Paul and simply fell in love with it. This is the first song on the album and I love how it starts with the ambient noise. Then the instruments kick in in a sort of disjointed fashion and it all sounds so old school. I loves it! I'd also play this on Saturday mornings, usually just after I woke up and before I went for a shower. I'd do what I imagined to be a super cool dance, looking as 'edgy' and hip as I could. And I just loved singing along to it. I like the way the vocal sounds a bit out of time with the music and the way he pronounces the words, not drawing out the syllables or anything. It just sounded cool. I particularly remember one morning when it was super-cloudy and I was wondering whether I should even bother going into town. I was standing by the window of my room looking out, and singing the song in a somewhat distracted way, when the chorus finally comes and I just about burst into song. Good times.
R. Kelly- Spendin' Money
We used to have parties in the basement of our halls. In my halls there were the Irish, a couple English, an American, two Belgian, an Uruguyan and loads of French. In the other halls up the road (Pre St Jean), there were Irish, other Belgians and other people whose existence I'm not that bothered about at this point. We mostly only socialised with the Irish. So anyway, we'd often organise these parties in our basement and Paul used to DJ. I'd heard this song somewhere before and never knew who sang it. But I knew that I liked it. And then one night, Paul played it and it made me so happy. I was dancing with my friend Des (Irish Justin Timberlake type) and we were just having so much fun and it was one of the best times of my life. I especially love the part near the end when he goes "I need you baby, to share this good life. I need you baby, it's true. All that I do, I do for you." I can't really explain why I love it so much, but of course I borrowed that bad boy from Paul and played that A LOT! My room wasn't massive and once you factored in the bed and the desk it didn't really leave a lot of room for dancing. But I think I made it work. When I hear this song now, it brings a smile to my face and makes me think of a simpler time, when life was super easy and we really didn't have any hassles.
Ah, if only!
And I have come to realise just how many of my memories are intrinsically tied in to songs. I hear a certain song, and the period of time in which that song took centre stage comes rushing back to mind. A lot of the time it makes me very happy and very rarely it makes me sad.
Girlfriend by Alicia Keys
When I hear this song, it reminds me of the time I lived in France. It was very early 2002 and I had gone to Annecy in France for the second part of my year abroad. I was living in Centre Residence d'Evires (Evires for short) and working at IPAC (IPAC Annecy, bonjour.) It was a fairly idyllic time. It took me a while to socialise, but eventually I became really good friends with the Irish colony living in my building. They were the only acceptable people to hang out with. All the French people who lived there all appeared to be societal rejects, but that's for another day.
Alicia Keys had just released her first album but I was still immune to her apparently sizeable charms, even though Fallin' had already become the song of choice for talent show auditionees across the world. I myself preferred India.Arie and was loving 'Brown Skin' in a big way. So Paul, one of the Irish, lent me his bootleg version of 'Songs in A minor'. Girlfriend was the first 'proper' song on the album since the first track was an Intro.
I would play this CD a lot, especially on a Saturday morning as I was getting ready to go into town to knock about. So the first piano chords of this song always reminds me of coming in from the shower and picking out my clothes. I'd then sing along while I was getting dressed and feel pretty happy. I liked the way the piano sounded so jazzy, then it suddenly switched to a thumping drum machine and her voice comes in and it sounds slightly out of time "Maybe silly, for me to feel this way about you and her." I loved the lyrics and the backing vocal, and I especially loved chiming in on the chorus "I think I'm jealous of your girlfriend, although she's just a girl that is your friend." I'm sure the girl in the room next to me was dead annoyed but I couldn't help it. The lyrics were simple yet they really made sense and even though I was single and had never before experienced the feelings she was talking about, I was often the girl-friend the girlfriends were jealous about.
I'd then fast forward to Butterflies.
This song has such a 'sing-a-long' quality to it, I simply couldn't resist. Sigh! I loved the simplicity of the production. Just her and the piano. Then the backing track comes in near the end. It's so melodic and so pretty. I hear it, and I'm taken back to night time in Evires. I'd play that song in the evening, mostly because I found it very soothing and I enjoyed hearing it as I lay in bed reading or just staring into space wishing that Cute French Guy (who did indeed give me butterflies) would stop being so nice to me and ravage me behind the ugly building that housed IPAC.
D'Angelo- Playa Playa
This song is from Voodoo, the only D'Angelo album I own but one of my absolute favourites. I also borrowed this from Irish Paul and simply fell in love with it. This is the first song on the album and I love how it starts with the ambient noise. Then the instruments kick in in a sort of disjointed fashion and it all sounds so old school. I loves it! I'd also play this on Saturday mornings, usually just after I woke up and before I went for a shower. I'd do what I imagined to be a super cool dance, looking as 'edgy' and hip as I could. And I just loved singing along to it. I like the way the vocal sounds a bit out of time with the music and the way he pronounces the words, not drawing out the syllables or anything. It just sounded cool. I particularly remember one morning when it was super-cloudy and I was wondering whether I should even bother going into town. I was standing by the window of my room looking out, and singing the song in a somewhat distracted way, when the chorus finally comes and I just about burst into song. Good times.
R. Kelly- Spendin' Money
We used to have parties in the basement of our halls. In my halls there were the Irish, a couple English, an American, two Belgian, an Uruguyan and loads of French. In the other halls up the road (Pre St Jean), there were Irish, other Belgians and other people whose existence I'm not that bothered about at this point. We mostly only socialised with the Irish. So anyway, we'd often organise these parties in our basement and Paul used to DJ. I'd heard this song somewhere before and never knew who sang it. But I knew that I liked it. And then one night, Paul played it and it made me so happy. I was dancing with my friend Des (Irish Justin Timberlake type) and we were just having so much fun and it was one of the best times of my life. I especially love the part near the end when he goes "I need you baby, to share this good life. I need you baby, it's true. All that I do, I do for you." I can't really explain why I love it so much, but of course I borrowed that bad boy from Paul and played that A LOT! My room wasn't massive and once you factored in the bed and the desk it didn't really leave a lot of room for dancing. But I think I made it work. When I hear this song now, it brings a smile to my face and makes me think of a simpler time, when life was super easy and we really didn't have any hassles.
Ah, if only!
Friday, 25 September 2009
Way too much time on my hands
The Ultimate Handsome Band
The handsome one from Take That
The guitarist from Cold Play
The drummer from Kaiser Chiefs
Chris Brown
Anyone know a handsome bass player???
The handsome one from Take That
The guitarist from Cold Play
The drummer from Kaiser Chiefs
Chris Brown
Anyone know a handsome bass player???
Random Rant no. 5,435,679
Am I the only one who is completely fed up of Jennifer Aniston? I mean, yes it's sad that Brad Pitt left you. Lord knows I'd be bawling my eyes out. BUT it's not as if he left her for someone uglier. I mean, THAT would be depressing. But he left her for Angelina Jolie, and he seems genuinely happy with his ever growing brood.
So why is she STILL talking about it? People get dumped every day. But because she's Jennifer Aniston we're supposed to feel really sorry for her? What-the-fuck-evs Steups.
So why is she STILL talking about it? People get dumped every day. But because she's Jennifer Aniston we're supposed to feel really sorry for her? What-the-fuck-evs Steups.
Monday, 14 September 2009
Random rant
There is a dickhead parked in my spot. He is not a resident, so I am irritated even further.
That is all.
That is all.
Sunday, 13 September 2009
A sense of occasion
I didn't go to mass today, and for that I know I am going to burn in hell. I have my own reasons for not going, but we won't pull at that thread today. But while I was driving to the supermarket to pick up some veg, I was struck by a thought. I was wearing a vest, linen trousers and purple crocs and I could probably tip up in church looking just like that, and no one would bat an eyelid. If I dared do that in Trinidad, not only would I be most likely scorned and whispered about, my mother would give me one of her looks and not speak to me for a considerable length of time.
So obviously this got me thinking about the way people dress over here, and in particular, white people. Now I am by no means making a racist statement. My husband is white, so obviously my extended family is as well. In addition, outside of my circle of black friends (who actually DO all know each other!), all of my friends are white. So I'm just making an observation, and one that has come from, not surprisingly, all of my black friends.
Black people just seem to know how to dress for an occasion. We know when to dress up and when to dress down. Case in point being my little trip to the shops this morning. If I was going to Manchester, I would have put on a decent top and proper shoes. When I'm going to mass, I wear actual trousers and wear lots of v-necked sweaters over polo shirts or long-sleeved shirts. If I'm wearing a skirt, I make sure to wear tights, because even though my gran is dead that doesn't mean I have to bring shame on her by going out bare-legged!
But white people just don't seem to realise that there are some occasions when a tracksuit and a pair of trainers just isn't the accepted dress code. When I graduated from uni, all my black friends looked ace. My friend, The Egan (obviously not her real name) had on this kick-ass red chinese style dress and a pair of gorgeous heels. My mate MJ (actually his real name) wore a suit. I wore a white shirt, black trousers and some black heels. I actually felt as though I'd be underdressed. Um, yeah. Right. When my parents and I got down to the auditorium, I went in to pick up my cap and gown and was just shocked at the mess that greeted me. I saw one girl in jeans and slippers. She was standing with someone I assumed to be a family member, who was wearing a denim mini-skirt and trainers. I saw another girls mother in what I can only describe as hippy/farmer chic, i.e. some sort of flowing gypsy skirt and Birkenstocks.
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine from work had the English reception for his wedding. My first thought was "Need to find the husband's suit and see if it needs dry cleaning." I was discussing it with my mate Skyler (who if you remember, we went to the football with) who was also going to the reception. And he said to me "What? Why're you getting dressed up?" to which I replied "Eh? What're you talking about? What the hell did you plan to wear?" Do you know what this boy had the heart to say to me? "A t-shirt and jeans." Sigh! May the saints in heaven preserve us. I practically had to beg him not to turn up to a wedding reception in the same outfit he planned to wear to the football. It was only when he asked a couple of other guys at the office, that he realised that he'd have to sharpen up his act. Turns out he doesn't even own any nice clothes. So when we went to pick him up, he came downstairs in a shirt I've seen him wear to work many a time. It is his dad's. My victory was sweet while it lasted.
I have luckily been able to beat this aspect of blackness into my husband, however. So at least he knows the drill now, even though he tries to protest. Hopefully, it'll rub off on my in-laws.
Before we got married, my soon to be sister-in-law asked me what she should wear to the wedding. I found this to be a very bizarre question, but I told her "Something dressy would be appropriate." I mean, oh gosh man, yes the wedding was going to be extra small, but you could at least make the effort! My soon to be father-in-law was annoyed that he had to buy new shoes. I found the whole thing baffling. My mother had something specially made and my dad knew he had to wear a suit, but couldn't be arsed to bring one, so I took him to the hire shop we got the groom's and best man's suits from. Odd that my friend who was like my maid of honour, The Princess (this is how she refers to herself. This is just how she is, but we love her anyway. She is Nigerian), never asked me what she should wear and turned up in a wicked bustier and skirt outfit with killer heels...obviously.
Easter Sunday. Big day in the Christian calendar. People get dressed up, churches are filled with heathens and everyone in England stuffs their faces with chocolate. So I put on some of my best and went to church, comme tojours. Imagine my horror, when I had a little look around, and saw someone sat across the aisle, in cargo capri pants and sandals. A lady walked past me in reef sandals and denim three-quarters. A family walked in, with the kids dressed in football shirts and trackie bottoms!! And that really angered me. I mean, you're coming to bloody church, and you can't make a bit of effort?? I understand it was a lovely spring day and you may have plans for after mass, but a little respect...PLEASE!!
Sigh!
Ah well... what can I do? The fact remains that I love getting dressed up. I don't get to do it often enough. Don't get me wrong. I'm no scruff-bag. I own four pairs of jeans, and wear one- one pair doesn't fit, I can't find two and one is dark blue and high-waisted so actually looks like trousers. I don't wear trainers. I like to look 'respectable'. But I LOVE stepping out in my finest. So I guess chances are I'll always be one of the 'fancier' dressed people wherever I go. This is my cross to bear. Oh, it's a hard life.
So obviously this got me thinking about the way people dress over here, and in particular, white people. Now I am by no means making a racist statement. My husband is white, so obviously my extended family is as well. In addition, outside of my circle of black friends (who actually DO all know each other!), all of my friends are white. So I'm just making an observation, and one that has come from, not surprisingly, all of my black friends.
Black people just seem to know how to dress for an occasion. We know when to dress up and when to dress down. Case in point being my little trip to the shops this morning. If I was going to Manchester, I would have put on a decent top and proper shoes. When I'm going to mass, I wear actual trousers and wear lots of v-necked sweaters over polo shirts or long-sleeved shirts. If I'm wearing a skirt, I make sure to wear tights, because even though my gran is dead that doesn't mean I have to bring shame on her by going out bare-legged!
But white people just don't seem to realise that there are some occasions when a tracksuit and a pair of trainers just isn't the accepted dress code. When I graduated from uni, all my black friends looked ace. My friend, The Egan (obviously not her real name) had on this kick-ass red chinese style dress and a pair of gorgeous heels. My mate MJ (actually his real name) wore a suit. I wore a white shirt, black trousers and some black heels. I actually felt as though I'd be underdressed. Um, yeah. Right. When my parents and I got down to the auditorium, I went in to pick up my cap and gown and was just shocked at the mess that greeted me. I saw one girl in jeans and slippers. She was standing with someone I assumed to be a family member, who was wearing a denim mini-skirt and trainers. I saw another girls mother in what I can only describe as hippy/farmer chic, i.e. some sort of flowing gypsy skirt and Birkenstocks.
A few weeks ago, a friend of mine from work had the English reception for his wedding. My first thought was "Need to find the husband's suit and see if it needs dry cleaning." I was discussing it with my mate Skyler (who if you remember, we went to the football with) who was also going to the reception. And he said to me "What? Why're you getting dressed up?" to which I replied "Eh? What're you talking about? What the hell did you plan to wear?" Do you know what this boy had the heart to say to me? "A t-shirt and jeans." Sigh! May the saints in heaven preserve us. I practically had to beg him not to turn up to a wedding reception in the same outfit he planned to wear to the football. It was only when he asked a couple of other guys at the office, that he realised that he'd have to sharpen up his act. Turns out he doesn't even own any nice clothes. So when we went to pick him up, he came downstairs in a shirt I've seen him wear to work many a time. It is his dad's. My victory was sweet while it lasted.
I have luckily been able to beat this aspect of blackness into my husband, however. So at least he knows the drill now, even though he tries to protest. Hopefully, it'll rub off on my in-laws.
Before we got married, my soon to be sister-in-law asked me what she should wear to the wedding. I found this to be a very bizarre question, but I told her "Something dressy would be appropriate." I mean, oh gosh man, yes the wedding was going to be extra small, but you could at least make the effort! My soon to be father-in-law was annoyed that he had to buy new shoes. I found the whole thing baffling. My mother had something specially made and my dad knew he had to wear a suit, but couldn't be arsed to bring one, so I took him to the hire shop we got the groom's and best man's suits from. Odd that my friend who was like my maid of honour, The Princess (this is how she refers to herself. This is just how she is, but we love her anyway. She is Nigerian), never asked me what she should wear and turned up in a wicked bustier and skirt outfit with killer heels...obviously.
Easter Sunday. Big day in the Christian calendar. People get dressed up, churches are filled with heathens and everyone in England stuffs their faces with chocolate. So I put on some of my best and went to church, comme tojours. Imagine my horror, when I had a little look around, and saw someone sat across the aisle, in cargo capri pants and sandals. A lady walked past me in reef sandals and denim three-quarters. A family walked in, with the kids dressed in football shirts and trackie bottoms!! And that really angered me. I mean, you're coming to bloody church, and you can't make a bit of effort?? I understand it was a lovely spring day and you may have plans for after mass, but a little respect...PLEASE!!
Sigh!
Ah well... what can I do? The fact remains that I love getting dressed up. I don't get to do it often enough. Don't get me wrong. I'm no scruff-bag. I own four pairs of jeans, and wear one- one pair doesn't fit, I can't find two and one is dark blue and high-waisted so actually looks like trousers. I don't wear trainers. I like to look 'respectable'. But I LOVE stepping out in my finest. So I guess chances are I'll always be one of the 'fancier' dressed people wherever I go. This is my cross to bear. Oh, it's a hard life.
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