My obsession with certain songs is nothing new. And I’ve always known my princess was good at music. But I didn’t know how sensitive she was to the nuances of music, the real spirit behind each song. Every once in a while, she will ask me to change a song because it’s sad and is upsetting her. Since I have gothic tendencies, a lot of the music I enjoy is dark and raw and angry. I’ve never given it much thought, so when she says to change the song, I argue based on the lyrics. She responds, ‘It’s not the words. The tune is sad. Please change it.’
At first I ignored the concept (even though I did change the song). But then this weekend, I was sitting with Mr. 3CB and a song came on that he loves. At first, I broke into a fit of giggles because the song sooooo unlike him. Then I asked him what he likes about the song. He said it’s happy.
I then enunciated every single lyric in the song, to prove to him just how un-happy it was. Because I’m mean like that I was genuinely curious. How could anyone describe that particular song as ‘happy’? When I was done with my vocal rendition, (yes, I can sing!) he paused for a beat, looked me right in the eye, and said, ‘Wow. You just ruined my childhood.’ Turns out he had never actually listened to the lyrics. He just liked that it was catchy and reminded him of a happy time in his life. Sigh.
And before you ask, yes, I did make up for ruining his childhood. Several times.
Anyway, one of my favourite songs is I’ll be by Ediwn McCain. I always assumed I’d heard the lyrics wrong, because they seemed deep to the point of gibberish. Recently, I looked them up and found they were just as accurate and puzzling as I imagined. For instance, what exactly does it mean to be love’s suicide? You will make her love kill itself? Meaning you will make her hate you? How interesting. I admit though, the sound of the song is sad, and yes, I did have to change it.
Which brings me to this song, She’s so high by Tal Bachman. I first heard the song on Rick Dees. He said the lead singer/songwriter was now happily married, and that the song was about a girl in high school that he was too chicken to ask out. I wondered how his wife felt about this hit. She’s obviously way more secure than I am, coz I would have a major problem with my man pining over a woman all those years later.
Same concept, different artist. Sk8er Boy by Avril Lavigne. This time, the hazing is from the girlfriend of the boy whose worth you didn’t see. Except how does she – his girl – feel about this song? She obviously has heard the story, which is why she has the material for the song. Maybe I’m just more jealous than the average bear.
All said and done, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. Which, I suppose, is why I like ♫ Sura Yako ♫. For a long time, all this song signified was Spellcast. I hadn’t even listened to the whole thing. But today, I bumped into this video and I’ve had the song on replay since. It has a happy sound, a catchy beat, and soulful lyrics. For that, I forgive it for being written by Sautisol.
I’ve dealt with depression for as long as I can remember. I probably dealt with it long before that, but back then, I didn’t have a name for it. I’m not sure when I learnt what this sensation was called. I just know that some people around me interpret it as tantrums and laziness. In the African setting, we don’t see it as a real disease. But then again, not many Africans acknowledged PMS either. They just made the girl sit in a hole and went to amuse themselves with other daughters and wives. Moodiness, ADD, obesity, and hormonal conditions are considered as ‘western problems.’
I don’t know how women in the past dealt with PMS and menopause and stuff like that. It doesn’t exactly show up in folk tales and bedtime stories. It’s possible indigenous diets had supplements that made the problems easier to deal with, I don’t know. But speaking for myself, I deal with mood swings a lot, and it’s always really scary for me.
Whenever I tell my friend about it, he suggests I distract myself and find something active to do. That response always bugs me. I don’t want to ignore the problem. It’s not like that will make it go away. I want to sit and talk and analyse and find out what caused the depression. That way, I can find a way to fix it.
But depression doesn’t work like that. It’s a sickness just like headaches or stomachaches or cancer. Finding out the source of cancer is work for researchers and scientists. The work of a patient is to take medicine and get better. So as a depressive person, I should focus on simply finding ways to get better.
Depression is mental, so it helps to change the way I think – or better yet – to just stop thinking. That sounds really silly to me, but it works. Sometimes when I’m terribly down, I distract myself with housework. I tell myself it will keep my mind occupied, and that I’ll be able to think clearer once the dishes are done. Instead, what happens is that two hours pass, I have no clue what I was thinking, and my house looks better. It’s like for the duration of the housework, my brain switched off!
Of course once I’m self aware again, the depression comes back, so meh.
I tried to think about my life is TZ. I tried to recall whether I was ever as depressed while I was there. My conclusion was that I didn’t have time to be depressed. I was like a robot on autopilot. Wake up, office, get home, black out. I was always so exhausted after work that if I found my little girl awake, all I could do was give her a hug and a kiss then black out until the next morning – literally. I think that’s why manual workers don’t seem to get depressed. They simply don’t have the time or energy for it.
So I suppose that instead of trying to decipher why I feel this way, I should just fill my days with so much action and trivia that I simply don’t have time to feel sad. It feels like a cop out to me, but maybe that’s exactly what I need – to cop out and shift focus. Plus, as a freelancer, being down means not working, which means not eating.
It’s hard for most people to understand depression. To them life is a fun, exciting adventure. They’re always looking out for something new and interesting to do, or for someone funky to hang out with. me, I don’t want innovation. I want to sit here and live life and do my thing. It’s hard for me to do that when I can’t see what my purpose is.
I’m a writer, and I feel most fulfilled when I do that. I’m a mother, and most of what I do is for her. I’m a daughter, and I know that someday, I’ll have to look after my parents. I’m a sister, and I try to set a good example. I’m a woman, and I try to be happy for my man.
But for the most part, I can’t see my overall function in life. There are days when I wake up and wonder what the point is. I wonder what good I’m doing in the world. I ask myself why I should get out of bed, and what I can possibly achieve this new day. I wish I had just died in my sleep.
While I was in TZ, my driving force was to get back home. Now that I’m home, there’s lot of stuff I want to do. I want to raise my baby right, to buy the penthouse next door, to write my next great novel, to provide for my family. But lately, I see no way to do that, and I wonder if there’s any point in trying. I feel lost, and I feel stuck.
I feel you bro
In June 2011, I was setting the clock on my computer and I realized that half the year was gone and I had nothing to show for it. I felt like I had wasted the past six months, and I saw no signs that I wouldn’t waste the next six. It’s thoughts like that which end with people hanging from a tree. In the past, I’d have dwelt on those thoughts to find the cause and fix it. Instead, I chose to shift focus. I didn’t want to go back down that road. I’d been there before, and it didn’t go anywhere good.
Religious people are lucky. Their purpose in life is to please their God and build a good afterlife. They have directions and goals. Me, well, I guess my life is made up of moments. There are lots of little things that I do every day. I helped a friend write a report that landed them a big client. I made a watchman smile by being nice to him. I cracked a joke that cheered up the victim of a stroke. I made a salesman’s day by simply hearing him out.
Maybe my purpose in life isn’t to save the world or cure HIV or become a president. Maybe my purpose is to keep doing these little things. Maybe every smile that I produce creates a ripple effect, and maybe that’s all that’s required of me. Maybe all I need to convince myself to get out of bed is to make one person smile.
Of course there’s a risk in that. It means I end up living for other people, and that’s never a good idea. But I do need to feel like I’m doing something big and worthwhile with my life, and at the time, I didn’t feel like I was. Still, I read a tweet that said forever is about millions of moments, so if I can just live for the moments and enjoy them, then it’s never a waste. I wish I knew how. It’s so easy for me to come up with these theories and proclamations, but I never know how to do just do them.
In 2010 and part of 2011, I was running my own freelance outfit, but I wasn’t doing it well, and I didn’t think I’d ever get better at it. So I went back into employment. It was cool, because the salary came in more or less every month, even though it was sometimes partial or late. I made my way up the ladder and had my starting salary quadrupled in as many years. Right now, I’m in a good space financially. I’m making long term plans and sensible investments. My baby girl is healthy and happy, if tumultuous. I’ve found a boy that likes me, and I like him back. A lot.
I still long to be chilling in a penthouse, surrounded by pretty things, cradling a Mac on my laps, typing out my next great novel. Instead, I’m sitting at my desk on a Friday afternoon, headphones on, nibbling some baileys-flavoured ice cream, typing the last words of this post. And I have to admit, it’s not a terrible place to be.
February means one thing to me: Superbowl ads! I work in advertising, which means I should be immune to most things. But I’m still a big sofite at heart, and I look forward to the biggest half time of the year. Well, I look forward to the morning after the biggest half time of the year, because that’s when someone gathers all the half-time ads and puts them on the net.
The last thing said net needs is another dissection of Superbowl Ads, especially one done by an ‘insider’. But for some reason, this year’s ads solicited such an opinion that I really can’t help but babble. Let’s start with the good. Doritos ads, as usual, made me happy. Especially When Pigs Fly. That just gave me all kinds of fuzzies. Yay for the nerds! Their Middle Seat as was pretty funny too. I don’t know what Doritos are, but between the goat, the tea, and the dog, I’d buy them for ads alone.
Mercedes did some word play on the tortoise and the hare that made me far happier than their previous attempts *shudder*. Fiat Viagra had me feeling very very happy. So clever, so simple. That’s how you use old people in ads. I definitely approve. And they didn’t use hot girls in the GoDaddy ad this year, which is … puzzling. I’m not saying that they should use hot girls. Just that it’s puzzling they didn’t. Also, I admit the Snickers Brady Bunch ad made me smile.
Of course there had to be some cheap shots. Liam in Revenge, Kate on War Game, Snoop in Hangry, Pierce in Kia, Mindy and Matt, Kim in whatever-that-was-she-was-in, that guy in Nascar, everyone in Wisdom … no dice. Nothing but not so cheap publicity and lazy writing. And Skittles? For some reason, it made me think of this. Because … you know … that’s how my mind works. *Omar Whistle*
Then there are thesetwo ads. Both are targeted at young(?) virile males, so the cliches are perfectly effective. I prefer the Budweiser because the copy is clever. It’s literal to the target and tongue-in-cheek to everyone else, kind of like Big Bang Theory. I would totally buy a Bud after this. Especially after the rather embarrassing wine-tasting session I recently attended with my primary school crush.
As for the Carl’s Organic ad, well, we can complain as much as we like, but fact is most burgers are bought by virile men, which means this ad will sell burgers, and that’s kind of the whole point. Annoying the feminists and vegans was probably a bonus. #ControversySells. On the upside, it shows a very curvy girl emjoying a very tasty burger, so that does count for something. Few things are as annoying as watching a svelte, sexy girl dig into a burger on TV when there isn’t an ounce of excess fat on body. Le sigh. Anyway, here’s an ad I really liked. Even if I am going to hell for laughing at it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuVsf_hE7gM
Okay. Now, I’m not a fan of Coca Cola. But I do agree the net can be toxic, so this ad hit my fuzzy spot. No, not that fuzzy spot, and no, it wasn’t enough to make me buy a coke, but I’ll admit their marketing team knows how to #MakeItHappy. It’s funny how human beings operate, hurting others to mask our own pain. It’s the #MeanGirlSyndrome and we all have it. Some just use it more than others. So I do salute Coca Cola for 60 seconds of diffusing the hate.
Now. Let’s talk about what Greg and Walter White have in common. They’re both over 50 years old. They both used to own a Pontiac Aztec, and they both have a lot of experience with drugs. This ad? I love this ad. I didn’t get past episode 5 of season 1 of Breaking Bad, but I love this ad. That is all.
And can I just say how cool it was to see so. many. dad. ads? I know we mostly target commercials to young, active mums who have all the spending power. And that we use women in ads because, ‘Men love women looking at women and women don’t mind looking at women’ (and also, sex sells), even though I’d much rather be staring at good fathers and nice abs. So this year, I got more than my fair share of daddy candy (yes, I know how horrible that sounds). I hope the trend continues.
Now, some ads, I just didn’t get. The avocados? Mountain Dew? Sprint Apology? Turbo Tax? WeatherTech? Jurassic World? Jurassic World? Yes, I typed it twice. Because … how are they making another Jurassic movie? #RantForAnotherDay. Also, Michael Hill is jewellery. I Googled it.
Anyway, the real reason for this post is Chevrolet. Or rather, this Chevrolet ad. The premise is that random people were shown two photos of the same man. In one picture, he was standing in front of a Prius (or some such car). In the second, he was in front of a red ‘truck’. The two pictures are up there *pointing*. The people were then asked which guy was more sexy. I gave the same answer they all did. And it made me wonder.
What is it about pick-up that are sexy? It’s just a car after all. Is it because cowboys, rugged types and box-cut male characters always drive them? If I saw some typically rural guy in a Hilux full of bananas, would I find him as sexy as the guy up there *still pointing*? Or have we just watched to many ads and movie clips that say ‘sexy men drive trucks’? Is this association between testosterone and horsepower an invention of the media? And if it is, then why am I – a smart, intelligent feminist that works in advertising – not immune to it?
