I’m not a big fan of biographies, but when my yoga meditation teacher started quoting Steve Jobs, I figured the book was worth looking into. There’s a section where Elizabeth Holmes talks about him helping her get out of a cult. See, Steve and his friends were all into Zen and Eastern religion and things like that, which is probably why my teacher likes him.

As part of their spiritual exploration, Liz had joined a group that made her cut ties with all her old friends, including her boyfriend, who was Steve’s best friend. To quote the book, Steve ignored the injuction, stormed into the cult house, dragged Liz out, and made her drive him to Portland even though she couldn’t actually drive a stick shift. That’s a manual car, to those of us that don’t live in America.

Apparently, Steve literally scared her straight. He put his head on her lap and went to sleep, even though she swore she couldn’t drive. Sheer terror of killing the sleeping man gave her the courage (and instant driving skills) to get them safely to their destination. Liz says Steve had that way about him. He could make people do things they didn’t believe they could.

The situation got me thinking. According to the book, Steve deeply insulted Liz the first time he met her, but they went on to be great friends. He was like that with a lot of people – abusing and offending them, yet they couldn’t get enough of him. It made me wonder about two things – jerk appeal and the true quality of love.

Lots of guys complain that nice guys finish last. They say the best way to get a girl’s attention is to be mean to her. That’s why so many good guys get stuck in the friend zone while the assholes of the world get all the girls. It seems like a counter-intuitive conclusion, but observation rarely lies, even though stats (and interpretation) often do.

I saw a tweet a few days back – I forget who it was by – that said your asshole of an ex is the most dangerous one, because if he/she ever comes back, you’ll be completely confused. They treated you so badly that when they suddenly want you back, your brain could die from the overload, putting your current (and perfectly healthy) relationship in serious trouble.

I can’t even begin to analyze that (disturbingly true) scenario, so I’ll go with this instead. In the anecdote above, there are two guys. Guy A, the boyfriend. The one who was told to get out of her life, and said okay. He loved her, so when she gave him up for *God* he accepted it. Some people love like that. They’ll give you what you want, even if it kills them to do it.

Then we have Guy B, Steve, the boyfriend’s best friend. He said, “Look, I don’t care what you want. You’re being stupid. That cult is bad for you, and I’m going to drag you out of it, whether you want me to do it or not.” And that’s exactly what he did. He gave her what was best for her, even though she didn’t want him to.

And here’s my question – which of those two men loved her more? The one who gave her what she wanted, or the one who gave her what she needed? And then, did both motivations come from the same place? Did the boyfriend let her go because of love … or (lack of) esteem?

Did he want her to be happy with or without him? Or did he have insecurities deep down about not being good enough for her? After all, you can’t force someone to love you, or to be with you … can you? As for Steve, was it about helping a friend get out of a potentially dangerous situation, or was it simply about manipulating people and getting his own way?

Now, let’s get to a much more basic conundrum. Please note that there is NO LOVE TRIANGLE in this story, but if there was, who would the girl choose? Wouls she pick the guy who insults her and is consistently mean to her, yet came up and saved her life – in a mean, forceful, manipulative way?

Or would she pick the sweet guy who put her desires above his own and was ready to let her go simply because that was what she wanted? Sadly, the answer to that question is painfully obvious, and it says a lot about  relationships today. Jerks rule the world, and nice guys really do finish last. I just hope this is one lesson my baby girl won’t take to heart.

♫ All fall down ♫ OneRepublic ♫

I haven’t had a lot of luck with phones. If I wasn’t figuring them out on Twitter, or trying to disactivate the drunk-dialling button, then the phone itself was stolen, mugged, dropped into water, unwillingly donated … or fake. I was pretty excited when I bought a Nokia Asha 311 this year – it was my fanciest (and priciest) phone yet!

Unfortumately, it didn’t last very long because the volume was too low and it doesn’t have an awful lot of apps. I actually considered writing a post titled ‘Please don’t buy the Nokia Asha 311’ but meh. So … what exactly is wrong with the Asha?

Well, for one thing, she’s blonde. She’s absolutely gorgeous, and I got a lot of compliments as she sat on my desk. Plus, as a touch screen, she’s easier on the fingers as well. Unfortunately, that’s all that can be said for her. I love my Nokia games, and she comes pre-installed with quite a few … which you can play for three minutes before you’re prompted to buy.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with freemium marketing models, but if I have to pay for the game, then why install it on my phone in the first place? I mean it’s either in there or it’s not, right? Also, Asha 311 doesn’t have a torch or a stopwatch or a compass, the very features I’ve always loved in Nokia. It does have Angry Birds though.

There is an ovi store, but it only stocks apps that are specific to S40, and those are alarmingly few. I couldn’t even find a working Twitter App. And please, for the love of all that is holy, do NOT suggest Twitter for Nokia. Just. Don’t.

The phone does have Whatsapp pre-installed, which counts for something. But the keyboard is really tiny, leading to typos notwithstanding the baby-like fingers on these delicate hands. Typing on it got really old really fast, and I often gave up and sent emails or paid texts, because the phone and Gmail keyboards were much bigger.

Why did I buy a Nokia Asha in the first place? Because I’ve always loved the brand. Mostly because you can drop them without breaking them, and I throw my phones around. A lot. All the phones I’ve ever owned except this one have been Nokias. I’ve played with a few others, but I sold them or gave them away, mostly to the boy I was with at the time. He had an unusually high track record of ‘losing phones.’ Maybe that’s where my baby gets it from.

Anyway, I’ve been eye-ing the Nokia 7230 for years, and about three months after I got Blondie (that’s what I named my Nokia Asha), I got a 7230 as a present. Isn’t she beautiful? She also looks a lot more expensive than she is, which is always a good thing in a handset. Unless of course you’re trying not to get robbed, in which case, you’re screwed.

My new Nokia and I have been pretty happy together. But I guess the honeymoon is over, because now the trouble has begun. The phone has this habit of randomly going off. At first I thought it was a battery problem, since it never seemed to charge all the way. I’d leave it plugged in for hours, but whenever I pulled it off, it would say ‘Battery not fully charged’. Sometimes the phone goes off in the middle of a call, or even while it’s plugged in to the charger.

I considered buying a new battery, but was told the battery had already been replaced twice, so that wasn’t the problem. I tried using a different charger, or even charging via USB, but nothing seems to work. It turns out the 7230 is a pretty old model, and that mine was bought online because it wasn’t available in the shops. Oh dear.

I’m currently using a Mulika Mwizi Samsung that has been officially been declared a public embarrassment by the powers that be my pre-teen daughter. Here’s what happened. She wanted to get a phone for her friend’s birthday, since said friend’s phone had ‘problems’. I suggested she give her the Samsung, which was lying around the house anyway. I bought it as a punishment stop-gap measure after she lost yet another phone.

(Incidentally, that makes four lost phones and counting. After she lost the first one at age 5, I told her she wouldn’t get another until she was twelve and responsible. This, however, has not stopped her doting grandma from buying her phone after phone after pricey fancy phone. Le sigh.)

When I asked if we could give the Samsung to her friend, my baby girl gave me the dirtiest look I’d ever seen on her face and said, ‘Sasa mum hiyo itamsaidia na nini?’ *shudder* And that’s the phone I am now lugging around. So I should probably find myself something more decent. My only requirements are that it be pocket-sized, Android, and preferably not Samsung. Or Sony Ericson. Or SQNY. And it would awesome if it looked at least a little bit like this.

My devotion to Nokia is way past dead, and I’m not quite ready for my dream iPhone yet. I don’t need bells and whistles, just  a small phone with a big screen. I’d love for it to cost 15K or less … but I doubt I can get anything better than a Tecno on that budget. Le sigh. So, suggestions?

♫ Hurricane ♫ 30 Seconds to Mars ♫

I’ve been a chocoholic for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I got 1 bob as my break allowance. While my classmates would split the bob between Rings, Patco, and Cool Ice, I would save up three days’ worth so I could get a Mintchoc or a Fudge. I remember wishing I had the stamina to starve for a week so I could afford a 7 bob Dairy Milk. Back then, it was double wrapped in gold-coloured foil and a paper jacket, and unwrapping it was a large part of the pleasure. *happy sigh*

In high school, when Dairy Milks were 40 bob, I’d spoil myself whenever I could, and I distinctly remember wishing I was a grown up. Why? So I could have a job, earn a salary, and buy endless bars of chocolate without thinking about the price. Right now, I eat chocolate almost every day, and at 165/= a piece, it’s my favourite indulgence.

My taste in chocolate has evolved somewhat. I liked the original Fudge, wand wasn’t too keen on Mintchoc. Crunchie was da bomb, but a tad pricey. And on the days I had a taste of heaven via Dairy Milk, it was always the plain bars that I loved. Then I developed a taste for nuts. I was mad about Cadbury Macadamia until they took it off the market. I moved on to Double Nut, and then Whole Nut, before finding giddy pleasure in Cadbury Cashew and Coconut.

It seems I’m getting older now, and the cashews are too rich for my teeth, so I settled back to the sweet, the simple, and the safe. Unfortunately, they changed the packaging recently, and with the new pack came a slight tweak in the recipe. Now Whole Nut not only looks disturbing, but it also has a subtle minty taste that my palate finds quite … off.

I was in the supermarket the other day, staring at the chocolate aisle in frustration as I tried to find a new flavour to binge on. I’ve tried Bubbly, and while the texture is quite pleasing, the taste is nothing special. I suppose I could upgrade to Guylian, Galaxy or Ferrero Rocher, but they’re not pocket-friendly enough for daily use.

I Googled Dairy Milk and found there was a whole new world of flavours to discover. I mean Black Forest Dairy Milk? No, seriously, Black Forest Dairy Milk?!? *swoons* I wonder if they’ll ever get that here. And if it’ll cost less than a kidney. In the meantime, here’s me, all out of chocolate to love and wondering what joy is left in life. Sigh. On the upside, I’ll probably lose a lot of weight this way. Double sigh. Moving on.

I’m not very good at conversation. No, let me rephrase that. I totally suck at small-talk. I’m one of those people that can bore you with philosophy, but I go completely blank regarding topics like weather. For me, conversation serves two distinct purposes – intimate acquaintance, or passing along information. Maybe that’s why small-talk confuses me.

I bumped into one of my favourite people last night. I haven’t seen her in years, and we took a long walk and talked for hours. Instead of catching up on who was working where or what movies we’d seen lately, we immediately launched into our views on child-birth, marriage, and wedding committees. And that, for me, is conversation.

I realize that the average person doesn”t operate like that. The average person can stand on the street and talk for half an hour about hats, and it puzzles me no end. I’ll be standing there nodding, hm-ing, huh-ing, and even dropping in relevant comments, but my mind will be grinding like a clock tower.

What are we doing? Why are we talking about hats? Does he want me to buy one? Did he just invest in a hat shop? Is it because of the weather, or the fashion week, or the … wait … it’s been ten minutes … why are we still talking about hats?!? Now, I know what you’re thinking. If I don’t want to talk about hats, I should change the subject, yes? But you forget, I suck at small talk.

If I was to make a logical diversion in the hat talk, it might be something like, “Why does the hijab cause such a heated debate when it’s essentially a pretty silken hat?” To which my speaking partner would drop their jaw and either (a) back away slowly, (b) stare at me in shock, or (c) suddenly realise their phone was ringing. Because while that’s a perfectly valid conversational tangent in my mind, it breaks three small-talk taboos in one simple sentence – gender, religion, and my disturbing sense of fashion.

I’ve heard it said (and tweeted) that only people with no conversational skills attack small-talk. After all, the point is to not make mortal enemies by pushing people’s buttons five seconds after you’ve met them, yes? I have this one friend who is like the king of small talk. He’s a such a sweet, delightful person, and he will bump into me in the corridor and keep me there for half an hour talking about pencils or water-coolers or the colour blue.

I’ll spend half the time wondering what the point is. Is there are message in here somewhere? Does he have a large stock of Staedtler HB that he’s trying to get rid of? Is he thirsty (for water)? Does he not like the colour of my dress? I’ll spend the rest of the time looking for a polite way to exit the conversation without running off screaming like a banshee, which is not generally an option because I actually like this guy. And don’t say friend zone – the man is married.

Anyway, a few days ago I finally realised that the guy just genuinely enjoys conversation, and can go on and on for hours about anything (or nothing, depending on how you look at it). He must have been a hit at high school functions. So, my two conclusions for the day? I need a new brand of chocolate, and I suck at conversation. Also, if there was a way to burn calories by thinking, I would be one very, very happy woman.

♫ Secret ♫ Madonna ♫