You know I signed up for you sometimes
…Without realizing
It was the simplest thing to do
Forget Facebook, forget instagram
They encroach on the space you give them
I signed up for you
Bane of my being
How hard can it be for this encroach-ers
to give me MySpace
Let me be
I need MY SPACE!
If the woods could speak
They’d tell us stories
If walls could speak
They’d be dumb right back
But God you know all
You see all, you hear all
You’re never overwhelmed
You never go out of capacity
TENEBROUS:
(adj.) dark and gloomy; “a tenebrous cave”; tenebrific; tenebrious;
OSCITANT :
(adj.) showing lack of attention or boredom; drowsy; yawning;
CELESTIAL :
(adj.) 1. of heaven or the spirit; “celestial peace”; ethereal; supernal; 2. relating to or inhabiting a divine heaven; “celestial beings”; heavenly; 3. of or relating to the sky; “celestial map”; heavenly;(n.) [ce-les”tial] 1. An inhabitant of heaven. 2. A native of China; a Chinaman; a Chinese.
PRESAGE :
(n.) 1. a sign of something about to happen; omen; portent; prognostic; prognostication; prodigy; 2. a foreboding about what is about to happen;(v.) indicate, as with a sign or an omen; bode; portend; auspicate; prognosticate; omen; betoken; foreshadow; augur; foretell;
CANTANKEROUS:
(adj.) 1. having a difficult and contrary disposition; “a cantankerous and venomous-tongued old lady”- Dorothy Sayers; crotchety; ornery; 2. stubbornly obstructive and unwilling to cooperate; bloody-minded;
FANFORADE :
(n.) [fan-far`on-ade”] A swaggering; vain boasting; ostentation; a bluster. ]
HOBNOB :
(v.) rub elbows with; “He hobnobs with the best of society”;(adv.) [hob”nob`] 1. Have or have not; — a familiar invitation to reciprocal drinking. 2. At random; hit or miss. (Obs [AS. habban to have + habban to have not; ne not + habban to have. See Have, and cf. Habnab](n.) [hob”nob`] Familiar, social intercourse.
This is my first book review. Yaay. This has been lying low in draft for months. Not that anything I post doesn’t wait either. Well, I review:
The genre is Chicklit.
It’s in the 1st person pov
The author’s style is informal. The book is written in form of a bridesmaid journal entry.
It’s about a lady, Maddie, and the manner in which she jostles life events. She is a klutz, who works as an event planner. Its disastrous how that turns out for people’s events.
This book deals with the maintainance of relationships – with family( however difficult this may be), with friends, with ex-es, with co-workers.
The language is clear and easy to follow.
The events are quite dramatic for a person’s life but still very believable.
Themes covered include friendship, family, loyalty, marriage, and maintaining balance in life overload.
The author’s concluding chapter is convincing and perhaps my most favourite aspect of the book. I particularly liked her style of conveying what happened afterwards without the use of narration.
When I completed my reading I didn’t think anything was lacking except information on one character. I haven’t read other books by Lindsey Kelk so I can’t make a comparison but with this that i’ve read I’m interested in reading her other books. Next I want to read is “what a girl wants”.
I can’t relate on a personal level with the characters but they are people who exist in my head, they felt real.
I like the book. However the story didn’t keep me guessing, not much suspense. My favourite part of the book turns out to be the anti-climax which I daren’t tell you. In all, it is a very witty and humorous book
I recommend this book for young readers, those looking for comedy and in general chicklit genre fans . I rate it a 4 out of 5 stars. I have quotes for you:
On being a bridesmaid:
“you might be surprised to learn what an accomplished and powerful and wonderful young woman you already are. remember there is a reason your bride chose you”
On getting over grief:
”’these things happen’ he rationalized wiping out three months of my being played for a fool with three words”
Useful tips like:
”never try to smother a laugh if there’s a risk of it coming out of your nose. Cackling is more attractive than snorting”
”I didn’t even ask him a question! How is he supposed to reply if I didn’t ask him a question? That’s messaging 101”
And others:
”it’s so strange how something can affect someone in such a huge way and only have a rippling effect on others”
”Exciting? I asked. I know they say the pen is mightier than the sword but what I wouldn’t have given for a machete at that exact moment”
”wedding dress salons are such strange places. Blindingly white, eye-wateringly expensive and full of women screaming. I wondered if the government had ever considered bringing terrorists here for questioning.”
”don’t overreach Maddie. when you shoot for the moon, you end up with your face In the mud”
”I looked at my best friend, it was a startling thing when someone you thought you knew inside out could still shock you. And not just because I realized her hair was in a chignon instead of a topknot”
She shut the door behind her and stared at the room. It was a regular style four-corner bedroom, a few meters on each side.
Back at home she never spoke of such topics or named problems but Peace had always suspected she had a case of claustrophobia. Her eyes darted to the two windows in the room. Even if they were big enough to let in air sufficient for breathing, there couldn’t be ventilation with the wardrobe which stood in the middle of the room. It faced the bed in the middle, the one the land lord has said was hers. She drew herself to the bed. The mattress had brown map stains all over it, she held it gingerly, swapping it for one that seemed slightly better. She was used to this. Boarding school life; it entailed quickly changing all bad things allotted to you before your roommates resumed. She remembered her graduation morning when all of them had stayed up still giddy. Neither of her friends had slept at night. They had had conversations of everything under the sun. they had drank lacasara to toast to never living in boarding school again.
Now, Peace looked around her, at the two other beds in the little room and pictured just how much more it could look like a boarding house. Perhaps if the beds were bunk.
She wondered what kind of houses her friends back then were now living in, those same ones who had drank Lacasera with her. she wondered what kind of jobs her classmates from university had taken up. Even for her, computer science was the magnet.
As the familiar thoughts swirled in her head, drawing her into a pond of despondency, she knelt by the bed which smelt of dust and staleness, careful that her elbows would not touch a dead fly smashed to the bed, she prayed. She thanked God for her life, for her fiancé’s, for the opportunity to serve, and wondered about other causes to give thanks. She sanctified the land with the blood of Jesus. When her thoughts started to run in the place of prayer again, she stood up and slapped away the dust from her knees.
Getting to work, she dusted her mattress, sprinkled the floor with water from a bottle in her bag and swept. She left the door ajar for air to come in. she mentally noted fan to be one of the priorities under luxury. There was no way she could handle the heat and stuffiness here, she eyed the windows distastefully. Peace sighed and proceeded to open the wardrobe door which creaked, letting some part of the wood chirp off. Dear lord!
By the time she was remotely satisfied, having dusted the cobwebs, she squatted, still unread to sit on the mattress until it was laid with a sheet. Perhaps she would get a chair too. She checked her bag for her phone, wishing to call Tomiwa. Three missed calls from him already. She dialled his number repeatedly, and listened to the dial tone endlessly.
She glanced around the room wondering how long she could stay before resting her back after the day’s job. Hissing, she got up quickly. Lord, don’t let me grow biter. Grant me the grace to work She left for his apartment in the other part of town. There was the offer of a room like hers but he had chosen one with four housemates. Truthfully, Peace wondered how he would have his privacy to pray, study the Bible. She wondered how several things would work. She took note of various spots along the way; the woman with the grinding machine three houses down, the brightly painted yet masquerade looking house at the end of the street with taps in front of it where she would have to fetch water from. The abandoned land where everyone dumped refuse, the mosques at short intervals, built finer than the houses of those who worshipped there. By the time she got to Tomiwa’s apartment, she was winded. He wasn’t in. Instead she met a bitter looking man who barely allowed her inside before banging the door after her. He remained sullen in his own part of the room. When Tomiwa came back, he came bearing his bag and hers.
”oh, you’re already here. I called you” he said edging his way through the door with the bags.
”and I called you too. Have you seen it?” she asked before he fished his phone out of his bag.
”ehh. It was in silent mode. Sorry. So you’ve walked down on your own.”
”the town was worth seeing. I see our bags have arrived” she gave a small smile
”yes the bus driver called me. Other things we packed at home, Jare would bring it for us himself”
”he still drives that his toyota?”
” yes he hasn’t found a buyer yet” he sat with her on the bed. ”you’re hungry? I saw one buka on the way”
Peace’s stomach coiled at the thought. Yes, she was hungry. No, she didn’t want to eat from an unhygienic canteen. This would definitely be worse than any other canteen she had ever eaten in. She couldn’t wait to start cooking her own food here. Somehow she hadn’t considered her options if she didn’t cook in this village. She knew better than to complain yet she did
”but Tomiwa, how long will this last? How long?”
His composure changed, putting on the face he used to deal with what he termed her childishness” when will we stop going over this, P? when?”
”okay I know. I know.” she sighed ” goodnight” she walked out with her own travel bag before he could say anything past the feelings wanting to choke him. Soon she doubted he even wanted to say anything as she walked alone to her apartment.
what a short visit.
Wishing her house mates will never come and she would dwell in her misery alone, she laid her bed sheet on the mattress. She drifted to sleep hours later quietly muttering God, help me support him, help me.
Nail polishes are such eye-watering temptations. They are the very thing you continue to get a promotion in. when in secondary school and failing economics, you searched the web for good cortex. When you spent one year at home because your parents wouldn’t lobby anyone for admission you made a nail planner and you ran through every possible neon colour.
To paint your nails, you sit indian style, balance your elbows on your thighs, it helps if you think of it as a tripod. You need them to be as balanced as possible -sudden dislodges are fatal. Never get angry when your mum calls you from the kitchen. You can get angry after applying the coats. It disrupts the process.
Do it yourself. No matter the colour of your skin, you can always have fabulous looking nails. Look for mantras. There is a future to nails. Maybe economics was a bad course to study anyway. When in university, never fix arbitrarily. Only go to a stable salon where your manicurist has studied the art to your fingers. To maintain it during the week, do moisturize the cuticle area so peeling doesn’t hurt the matrix, change nail file often to prevent bacteria, go medical; never use nail polish that contains formaldehyde or toluene. Go to your manicurist when you are emotionally imbalanced. The colour lush will relieve your hiccups. Will widen the tightening space in your throat.
It is what you do every time your husband fights with you over money. It is what you do when your memory betrays you and brings up flashes of that day you had gone to get your nails done, thinking your exam was by 4pm, it was for 3pm. You were late. It was statistics exam. Your result was bad. Your nails attracted your husband. You didn’t need economics after all. Do the nails.