Monthly Archives: March 2015

My Little “I Have A Dream” Moment.

Do you ever just think? Or better yet, daydream?

I spend a lot of time on public transport, you know this. If I don’t have a book in my hands, it’s because I think it’s time to do some mind wandering. This is the book I’m reading right now.

Excuse the condition of the book. I do this to a lot of my books, especially if it's taking forever to finish. I feel the books, get all cosy with it, it's bound to suffer in the process.

Excuse the condition of the book. I do this to a lot of my books, especially if it’s taking forever to finish. I feel the book, get all cosy with it, it’s bound to suffer in the process.

It’s about four people, in Paris, in the seventies, all entwined by knowing one or the other, all affected by the “breakout” of homosexuality and AIDS in France. I picked it up in Waterstones for £2, I think. It’s heavily philosophical but slow and steady wins the race. Just trying something new.

Anywho, when I daydream, I daydream hard. Things that haven’t happened yet, things that might never happen, things that I hope to happen: I am a self-proclaimed dreamer. Your imagination is the only happy thing, really. It is what you make it and I try to make it… exciting. I conjure up things that are supposed to be the Universe’s surprises to me, the turtle out of the sky but no, I foreshadow so much, it’s very unlikely that anything will ever be able to surprise me because, I’m simply on it. (Note, this is untrue. I’ve tried to imagine what meeting Beyoncé would be like but never did I imagine what meeting Danny Dyer, best known for his portrayal as Mick Carter in EastEnders, would be like. My hand was quaking, I think I experienced hyperventilation for the first time but boy, did that man smell good. Damn.)

I think about who I could be, think about where my life is going and what it holds, whether the morals I have laid out for myself still hold true and whether they can still hold.

I think about how my academic life took the biggest U-turn ever and I wonder what I’m actually doing. But, a memory crops up. I remember saying I wouldn’t want to be a dentist forever, I’d much rather go into research and be the brains behind something innovative. Well, look at me now. I’m doing a degree that is almost entirely based on research and who knows, I could be the one. I don’t know what for but it could be me.

Some days, I think about what it’s like to be that girl who can tweet her opinion on an album and not sound like a total fake, I know half of you are like what is she talking about, can she even understand what rap is? I want to have a gazillion followers who retweet whatever I come up with because it’s utter genius.

I think about sex, as you do. I think about what it’s been like so far, why it’s such a big deal, how necessary it is, how it hurt, how it’s the best thing you and another human being, that you love, can physically do together. Stop squirming, it’ll happen to you soon enough.

I think about how odd different cultures are, how unwilling people are to break free from their groups and integrate. I crave knowledge, it is the very thing that keeps me going. Every day I learn something new, I want to grow mentally and that involves mixing. Why stagnate and continuously stick to the plain old, same old that will eventually, turn your brain to mush? My best friend is an Indian Muslim. I have friends who are Sikhs, Hindus, Christians, atheists, barely there Christians, from all four corners of this globe. The other day, I was thinking about the number of languages I can say hello in: 10 and counting. I am a citizen of the world, why wouldn’t I want to be connected to it in every way possible?

I think about my own faith and how I’ve barely scratched the surface in my journey with God. I think of all the questions I have and how, one day, I will be satisfied. I think about how people see the God in me and whether I am utilising the talents given to me to His standard, I suppose. Even though I don’t use this blog to shove Christianity down your throats, I think I’m doing something positive. All I’ve ever wanted to do, for as long as I can remember, is to impact a life, in any way. Be it significant, insignificant, monumentally, for a millisecond or for eternity, I want to be the cause behind an emotional response in a person. I want to be the catalyst to something in someone and I honestly think God put this blog upon my heart to help me fulfil this nugget that seems to be the driving force behind every little thing I do.

I think about the day when every negative –ism of this world will not exist, when people will open their eyes and realise how stupid it is to have a hatred towards another human being. I mean, we are all human beings, aren’t we? Jeez.

I’m turning into Martin Luther King Jr. I guess we all have a little MLK in us all.

Mini Rant of the Week

There’s been this Instagram screenshot of a woman breastfeeding her child circulating on Twitter that, obviously, has people talking but they are, obviously, talking for all the wrong reasons. Why is nudity such a big deal to people when it’s not directly benefiting them? If it was porn, God knows this wouldn’t be an issue but the second a woman captures a moment that is as natural and as necessary as the air we breathe, it’s the biggest sin. I have seen opinions like “was that really necessary?” or “so is this ok now?” and “why would she share that?” and I’m just over here wondering what demon has descended upon all these useless people. It is a woman. Feeding her child. Why the fuck is this something that people even care about? You were all BREASTFED. What do you think breasts are for? To be stared at? For decoration? To be fondled at night during foreplay? They are fundamental biological tools given to women to provide all the necessary nutritional building blocks to babies. If people find a woman feeding her child insulting, God help us all. It’s things like this that make me want to give up on humanity, honestly.

Quote of the Week

"Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life." - Omar Khayyam

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” – Omar Khayyam

Song of the Week

Haven’t listened to anything else but To Pimp A Butterfly so…

Georgina ❤


Sigh (verb) – A long, deep audible exhalation expressing sadness, relief, tiredness, or similar*.

To sigh is a release. I’m always sighing, it’s a fundamental method of me showing emotion. This is what makes me sigh.

Going into Superdrug knowing you only need pads but then you see your deodorant is suddenly half price and and there’s a brand new Impulse body spray on display and your purse is 10,000 km deep in your backpack so you involuntarily start playing Jenga with all the crap in your arms. You lose the game, obviously.

Walking into one of your lecture theatres and being whacked in the face by the realisation that 90% of the people in there don’t want to be your friend, they want to crush you academically. Oh, and the simply repulsive scent of sweat. Jeez.

Good sex. Like, duh.

Bad sex.

No sex at all.

Sex, generally. Just leads to so much unnecessary strain on the mind, let alone the body.

Being single but good things come to those who wait.

One of your earphones stop working and you’ve got two train journeys to endure. Lopsided audio stimulation is not fun.

When he/she looks like a solid 7.5 but he/she opens their mouth and you wonder why you’re still in his/her presence at all. I could squeeze more intellect out of a rock.

When he’s almost, marginally, nearly incomprehensibly ideal but he’s too much and too little in every single department and there’s no amount of refinery that could change any of it.

Looking at your phone after 5 hours of not touching it only to confirm what you already knew: no one thought about you for a whole 5 hours.

Smelling something or hearing something that mentally sends you back to a place that meant everything once before but does nothing but irritate/sadden you when you’re stimulated by it.

Realising this is your last week of university before the ‘incessant studying, late nights in the library, crying over exams’ games begin.

Having so many things that you want to do whilst having so many things that you have to do and just taking a second to realise that all these things are under your control yet you still feel as if you have no say over any of it. If that doesn’t kickstart an existential crisis within you, I don’t know what will.

Wondering why everything you want and actually need is so damn expensive.

Ordering something off the Internet, having this moment of childish excitement as it finally arrives at your doorstep, only for it to look nothing as you envisioned.

People not getting who/what you’re talking about when you’re explaining it in the simplest way you could possibly muster.

Truly appreciating how earth-shatteringly necessary your mum is; acknowledging harder than ever how amazing she is and how life simply wouldn’t be without her.

Spending hours cooking all by yourself and seeing it all on the dining room table, looking totally edible and smelling too good to be true.

Becoming slightly frustrated in your inability to convey the same amount of sass that outpours in your blog posts into 140 characters on Twitter.

Sighing doesn’t always have to be sad. You just haven’t sighed in a good way yet if you think it’s only an outward expression of fedupness. It’s magical, I know this. Trust me on this. You haven’t lived until you’ve had that good sigh.

Quote of the Week

"Most people are searching for happiness outside of themselves. That's a fundamental mistake. Happiness is something you are, and it comes from the way you think."

“Most people are searching for happiness outside of themselves. That’s a fundamental mistake. Happiness is something you are, and it comes from the way you think.”

Songs of the Week

Sam Smith – Like I Can (Artful Remix) ~

(Throwback because I miss this guy, he needs to come back to me) Frank Ocean – Whip Appeal


Kendrick Lamar just blew my mind with To Pimp A Butterfly, it needs to blow yours too ~

Have an amazeballs week & experience the awesomeness of an amazeballs sigh.

Oh, guys, if you haven’t already, you can subscribe to this blog so you get emails whenever I post something. I think it’s a good idea if you’re not on twitter as often as I am. Please and thank you. Just put your email in the box at the top right of this web page.

Georgina ❤



My Many Questions on Womanhood

This is pretty long, just thought I’d warn you. It’s almost like an essay. Just my inner humanities student popping out, as you’ll be able to tell soon enough. Get comfy, get a cup of tea and try to understand what I’m trying to talking about. 

Being on the internet at around 1 AM has never been a good idea, especially if you’re half asleep but too lazy to transfer yourself to bed but nonetheless, everything happens for a reason. I was half-heartedly scrolling through my tumblr dashboard when I came across this gif photoset. It was then that I realised the Universe was trying to get me to talk about something in particular instead of what I had originally planned to write about this week. I want to talk (or more appropriately, ask) about why life is so seemingly hard for a woman, anywhere and it seems, at any given time.

Friday: I was on the train home, reading the Evening Standard (it’s a newspaper) and there were these horrific pictures of these women who had been facially deformed by acid attacks, tucked away in the middle section of the paper next to an advert for something meaningless. There was a less than 200-word article attached to the pictures, explaining how a former-NHS doctor had gathered £50,000 to travel to Pakistan and perform facial reconstruction on these women out of the goodness of his heart. The article went on to explain how sulphuric acid is as cheap as 15p in Pakistan and why the women were attacked: out of jealousy; out of spite for rejecting a marriage proposal. I was mortified to say the least.

Saturday: I found out that one of the girls I went to primary school with got married. There’s something about marrying young that unnerves me nowadays. At one point, it was all I could think about: I would daydream and wish I could get married that very second because marriage seemed to be the solution to everything. But now, I think, I’m only now just truly beginning to understand who I am and creating, or better yet, discovering my identity. If I were to get married, how would I know who I really am? How could anybody really know who they are if they get married at such a young age? Do you understand my logic or am I just being difficult?

Anyway, I was showing my mum the pictures of the wedding and from there, we started talking about marriage itself. You always hear a lot of wives saying “marriage isn’t easy, it takes a lot of work, it’s all about compromise, you have to keep your husband happy and interested” and I’m sure most of you have seen how your mothers are with your fathers. Well, I started to ask my mum what it was really all about. I asked her if I would have to change or conform my personality, my being, in order to live a happily married life and she told me “No way. You have to hold on to your identity, you cannot become someone else, how could you expect to last long if you had to play a different person every single day?”

And naturally, I started thinking. It wasn’t until I saw that photoset that my thoughts really began to accumulate. Maybe this is just an African thing, no, a Nigerian thing, but wives are expected to:

  • Know how to cook.
  • Know how to clean.
  • Pop them babies on demand but finding out you’re pregnant when it wasn’t planned is entirely your fault.
  • A career? What the hell is a career?
  • Cater to her husband in every way possible. Keep him happy. Keep him satisfied. Keep him interested. If he wanders, it has to be your fault.
  • Keep yourself together, you are someone’s permanent arm candy now.

It’s just how we’re raised, it’s what we see and what we hear, it’s what is expected.

But, I must ask, why is this expected of me? Why should I have to be the chef, the maid, the baby boomer, the housewife, the walking beauty salon just to keep a marriage functioning? Why should I have to alter my body’s hormonal chemistry to ensure the sex feels “good” as opposed to a man simply putting on a damn piece of rubber? Why should I have to be physically destroyed all because I won’t marry you? Why does my life have to be so hard just to keep a man happy? Who comes up with these things? It’s all down to something we know as gender roles.

It baffles me how unjust the little things of this world are, even on a social, day-to-day level. A boy can bang all the girls from here to China because “boys will be boys” but a girl can lose her virginity and be diminished in an instant. A girl could choose to not have sex until she’s married or until she’s 100% sure she knows what she’s doing but she can be called a prude and uptight for something that has absolutely nothing to do with anyone else but herself. Girls are expected to be homely and want to stay at home so it’s almost a natural response to see a woman who has never been married, never had any kids but has an amazing career and a beautiful legacy and call her selfish or to say she doesn’t have her priorities straight but if a man does it, it’s totally fine. Do you see what I mean though? Even on a musical level, Beyoncé addresses her sexuality on her self-titled album and all hell broke loose but these useless men can scream about bad bitches and f*cking women on a daily and be praised for it and have the balls to call that trash music? Why does having a penis ensure such an easy ride in life when a vagina is what brought you here in the first place?

You might argue and say it is fundamentally so, women just have to be that way, women have to serve, they have to be submissive, that is what they’re there for. You could say our bodies are biologically designed to be nurturing and delicate so we must depend on another man to exist. It’s fine if you want to live your life that way but all I’m asking is, why is this so in the first place and why is it such a bad thing if a woman doesn’t want to be all these things?

I guess this is why I’d make a good scientist, I like to ask questions, as you can see. And maybe in 10 years’ time, when I’m blissfully married and my husband irons our clothes whilst I cook our dinner; runs errands whilst I look through this blog, I can answer all these questions because somehow and some miraculous way, all will be right with the world and women will finally be given the absolute respect and reverence and undiminished equality that we so absolutely deserve.

Even I don’t know why I feel so strongly when it comes to things like marriage because, hey, I’m still young and I do want to get married, it is an ambition of mine, it’s not what I live for but it is something I want. As long as it’s a partnership not a domination. I’m pretty sure I’ve scared off a reasonable chunk of potential suitors because what boy doesn’t get scared shitless when marriage is mentioned let alone by someone who is as strongly-voiced as I seem to be?

Regardless, I will get married in the fairly distant future to someone who will see the world through the same kaleidoscope glasses as I. I’m only being enthusiastically observant and sharing my question-fuelled, highly confused perspective.

A note to my future husband: you’ll never be bored, let me just leave it as that.

If I could come back to this world, knowing and not knowing what I do now, and have a choice of being a man or a woman, I would be a woman every single time. Without women, the world wouldn’t turn, simple as that.

Did anyone notice that I managed to talk about all of this without mentioning the single word that makes everyone run for the hills? I’m talking about the ultimate f bomb – feminism.

Song of the Week

Quote of the Week


Until we meet again…

Georgina ❤

Uh, There’s A Walker At The Window

Firstly, sorry for any confusion earlier today with the release of the blog post. I accidentally published it when I meant to schedule it so some of you may have gotten an email earlier than planned, clicked on the link and been shown “Page Not Found”. My apologies, technology can be a goat sometimes.

Anyway. back to our regular scheduled programme.

If you didn’t already know, I have developed an intense infatuation with The Walking Dead. It is a television series about zombies, basically. Trust me, I never saw myself enjoying it half as much as I have grown to, despite how gory half the episodes are. Anywho, my friend and I were watching it during one of our free time chunks (it’s a chunk because it was a 3-hour gap) in university and randomly, she asks me “what would you do if you were in class one day and you saw a Walker (that’s what the zombies are called) at the window?” and she gave me the idea for this blog post. I should start paying her for all the bombs of inspiration she always yet unknowingly drops on me. Thank you, A, I know you’re reading this on your train ride home.

This is a Walker. It’s ugly as FUCK, right?! Imagine that tapping on your window. Wouldn’t you just pass out before anything else comes to mind? Image Source:

I literally couldn’t answer her question coherently. At first I said I would run but that’s not wise, if I ran, chances are there are more than just one Walker outside and they would chomp me up in no time. I can’t even run in the first place. I couldn’t stay inside either because God knows they would smash through the window in a matter of time and I would still end up as nothing but a pile of blood, bone and mush. I guess I would have to warn the others, create some form of pandemonium, let them become Walker dinner whilst I sneak away, clutching some form of a weapon (maybe a leg from one of the tables?)

But, since the chances of us seeing a zombie apocalypse actually happen are pretty low (unless the Government know something we don’t?!), I figured I should come up with solutions to actual scenarios that I might actually go through one day. Some of them have happened to me already. Sounds good?

Q: A couple who are holding hands is walking straight towards you and there’s a hoard of people on your left and absolutely no route on your right. What do you do?

A: Walk straight through them. I’m sorry but the entrance to a train station after a train has just deposited at least 100 people on a Wednesday morning is no place to be doing all your lovey-dovey business. I’ve done it before. There was a couple, I had to keep walking or risk being trampled and they had to break their chain. God knows I would have still walked straight through if they didn’t see sense and had kept holding hands anyway.

Q: You see someone you know reasonably well, they are short, remarkably shorter than you and you have to greet them. What is your greeting of choice?

A: They’re not getting a hug. They are getting a wave, a very enthusiastic one. I give bear hugs, instinctively so if I gave a short person a hug, their face will be absolutely smushed against my chesticles and I just cannot. It’s not happening. Side hugs are nothing but condescending but I feel like a wave is a universal sign for “hey, you’re short, I don’t want to suffocate you.” It has almost happened before. There’s this guy on my course, we call him Wolverine because of his haircut and the permanent scowl on his face. He’s a pretty short guy but he smells good, always. So, we had a lab session and I spun around to get something and he was somehow right behind me and his face was right in my bosom. Unpleasant for me, mortifying (or pleasurable, who the hell knows) for him.

Q: The bus you’re on is packed and you have a 10 second window to get off via the entrance door instead of the back door. You manage to squeeze past this old woman and you don’t shove her, you barely touch her but she starts yelling at you. What would you do?

A: This has actually happened to me, word for word. I told the woman to shut up. When your mouth is running 100 mph ahead of your brain as you’re just so pent up and not equipped to deal with anyone’s bullshit, things slip out and you’re mentally slapped in the face by a lead wall of remorse milliseconds later. I could have been patient and gone through the back, blah blah blah but I didn’t and God knows I said excuse me in my nicest, most eloquent tone and all I hear is this woman screeching “TRY THE BACK DOOR” and before you know, I hear myself telling her to “shut up”. If she, by some miracle, or any of her kids or grandkids are reading this, I’m sorry but your grandma needs to cool it.

In all honesty, this is what life is about: you having to come up with solutions to whatever is presented to you within seconds. How our bodies manages to handle this every single day just astounds me. Do you ever have those existential moments when you’re looking at your reflection and you think “wow, is that me? Is that actually me, in that body?” I have that whenever I make a decision or say something that sounds reasonably smart to my own ears. I always think is it really me saying that, doing that, not doing that or is it something else? It’s all very spooky.

Song of the Week: Kaytranda – Drive Me Crazy (feat. Vic Mensa)

If you’ve been observant, you would have noticed the new tab thing at the top of the blog page. If you hadn’t noticed it, firstly, rub your eyes then scroll back up and click on it. It’s magical, trust me.

Quote of the Week:


Totally necessary for me right now.

Georgina ❤