funk

I'm in a funky mood.

Not in a good way.

Not in a migraine skanking kind of way

I'm feeling moody.  The kind of moody that Lindt chocolate usually helps to alleviate.  But I'm avoiding dairy for the month - for various reasons.

I've been a bitch to at least 2 people today and been called cold-hearted by one of them in return. He's irrelevent - and slightly insane, but it's still not nice to hear. I wonder if he'll realise that my heart is a furnace, just the exterior is cold and difficult to crack. 

You know like cadbury's eclairs? LOL yeah I said it.

I'm just in a mood.  Deepest indigo mood.  If there was a candle in my soul it would be a pinprick in a void.  I'm just grouchy.  I always related with oscar the grouch more than elmo.  Oscar lived in a freaking trash can - of course he was miserable - why would you expect him to be otherwise? Idiot.

Love you oscar

Hopefully my mood will lift tomorrow - fingers crossed my loves - I'm going to see the cutie with the dreads in crystal palace, I'm due a retwist.

CORINNE IS BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!

OMG I love this woman.  I love her.  Her eponymously titled first album was the soundtrack to my life for at least a year and it still gets heavy rotation.

I will be on the look out for tickets HARD!  I'm sure she'll be doing some gigs real soon.  Any1 gets any info PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!

As I said on facebook, anyone found to be witholding information will be swiftly disowned

http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/2009/oct/04/corinne-bailey-rae-interview

in other news...

In 2 days it will be 3 months since my locs journey started.  So far I am wishing that I did this YEARS ago. 

It's so easy!

Retwisting myself every couple of weeks.  Going to see Strictly Dreadz in Crystal Palace when I'm feeling lazy.  I think they suit me.  I haven't seen any pics with me and my locs in them yet but the mirror seems happy enough.  I am currently having some moisture issues due to not washing my hair as often as I used to, but I might have to start spritzing - fun fun.

But yes I am a big big fan of this no-nonsense,no-fuss hair.  Long live the dreadz!

(update in 3 months time)

salsa!

I learnt to dance in Cuba. That's the first thing. After 5 weeks of daily lessons 1-on-1 with my cuban teacher (yum!) I was pretty damn good on my feet.

To begin with, my teacher despaired of me because I couldn't be led, I wanted to dance my way and turn my way and screw whatever his body was saying. It was completely unconscious, but I am naturally stubborn and do tend to think that it is 'my way or the A1'. Nowadays I can be led, but only by a strong lead. If your arms are flimsy and weak then don't even bother, I will just dance by myself next to you and save you the trouble. I think that could work out as a strong relationship metaphor (I'll submit to you if I think you are worthy type of thing) but that's another day.

So Wednesday night me, the PhD and the Latina went to bar Salsa! (their exclamation not mine) and oh my word, I didn't realise how much I had missed it. The PhD lacks confidence, a couple years ago we went regularly for a few months but we lapsed so today her and her cousin did the beginners class. Me and the latina did the Improvers class and the rust began to show. The class was a fiasco, I was that hopeless one that no1 wants to dance with.

We had drinks during the second dance classes, treated by a gorgeous short dreadlocked Kenyan guy called Oscar.  He dressed sharp!  However after the latina told him that she was married and that I was some salsa hussy he swiftly disappeared.

(I'm not a salsa hussy btw, but it is not the first time that I have heard it, I just dance with pretty much anyone and make friends quickly.  I feel like in that environment, where its very much geared to guys asking girls to dance - girls need to not be so picky.  Its a dance not marriage!)

So dancewise I wasn't feeling the love on Wednesday (boooo) BUT I did accept a hand from a guy the PhD was refusing hard.  Not pretty at all, BUT MY GOD, the man could dance!  I was getting twirled all over the floor, my skirt was flying high (thank God for tights) and I was keeping up with him!  That dance was worth the whole night, I absolutely felt like I was flying!

More salsa in my life! Check!


Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device

listening

People tend to talk to me.  I don't really invite it, but something about me leads people to believe that I am trustworthy and non-judgemental.  The first is true, the second, if I'm honest, is more dependant on my mood. 

A few months ago, when I went through one of my miserable loner phases I became sick of being everyone's confidante.  I found that those who would bend my ear nightly, were a lot less receptive to hearing my problems.  I clammed up, stopped answering my phone and sent a big middle finger to the world.

I'm over it now, I think

I'm put in a position of trust daily and today is no exception.  And its a special thing, not something I should dismiss lightly. 
Today made me realise that. 

celebrity adoption

Elton John wants a baby

Some of you may already be aware of the low opinion I have of the celebrity 'rent a black foreign baby' fad that is going on.  Madonna has been adopting "orphans" with living parents (it's amazing what doors money can open), and... ermm...

(Angelina and Brad are exempt - beauty opens even more doors than money so with beauty and money, they are pretty much vindicated of any crime!)

Ok so far only Madonna has really vexed me...

ANYWAY

The point was, I was watching that new BBC show, where Ian Wright is flanked by 2 Y-list blondes and they were chatting about Elton John's failed adoption attempt in Ukraine.

Firstly - Breaking news! Celeb finds orphans in Europe!  Soon they may realise that there are even orphans in the UK...

...nah I'm overstretching, my mistake.

Elton John went to perform in the Ukraine at an orphanage for the Elton John Aids Foundation, and fell in love with baby Lev whom he subsequently tried to adopt.  He was shot down because in Ukraine there are 2 adoptions rules

Rule 1:  the age difference between an adoptive parent and a child must be 45 years or less

Rule 2:  foreign citizens who are single have no right to adopt children

Elton John's civil partnership with David somebodyorother is not recognised in the Ukraine.

Discriminatory?  Maybe.  I'm assuming that according to this rule, a male-female couple who were unmarried would also be unable to adopt - which levels the playing field unless gay people aren't afforded the opportunity to get married in Ukraine in which case yes, it is discriminatory. 

But Rule 1 makes perfect sense

I'm not sure how accurate this is because google is not playing the game tonight but allegedly

"If you were born in 1950, your life expectancy at birth was only 68 years"

Elton John is 62.

Admittedly he will benefit from modern advances in healthcare and having the best health insurance money can buy (money, again!  That's some good stuff!), but it's not really looking good.  Seriously, if 60 year olds were supposed to procreate, breasts would win the fight against gravity, there would be no need for any little blue pills and fertility wouldn't decrease with age (or stop altogether as is the case with most women).

Elton, how about instead of the Madonna approach (using your fame and fortune to bypass the rules of a country), you fund the orpanage so that Lev can grow up surrounded by his culture and learn to help himself and other orphans like him. 

How about you give some money to one of those charities that have adverts with music that tugs at your heart strings and lil black and asian kids looking after their 10 siblings as the voiceover tells you that 2p a day could send lil Anita to school.  There is SO MUCH he could do with his power, wealth and influence and if he decides to be unoriginal and flaunt the laws of a country I will be very disappointed.*

*lol at the irrelevance of my disappointment to Elton*

strictly fabulous

 

The black hair salon

The bane of every black woman's existance at least once in their life. For those of us who reject the creamy crack (relaxer) the salon can hold even more horror.

I'v had my share of negative experiences. A few years ago I wantd my hair pressed and was feeling too lazy to contort myself in such away as to be able to do the back of my head properly. So I went to a salon in Lewisham. I won't name and shame, suffice to say that they call themselves a "natural hair" salon. Natural my back foot! My hair and scalp were burnt so badly in the straightening process that my scalp had scabs and my hair broke terribly in the following weeks. Later I learnt that my hair is naturally anti-heat and breaks in response to it, but that was the worst it had ever been.

After I realised that frying my hair wasn't a legitmate styling option unless I wanted to be bald by 30 I went back to braids. When I was younger extensions gave me the l'oreal hair flick I had always desired...

..."I was WORTH it!!"

But this second time around, all the excess hair felt heavy and alien. My scalp rebelled with an army of flakes and although I received compliments I didn't feel that they were my due. This was also when I realised the fragility of my hairline. When I undid the braids after a month (ahem, or more) I noticed a hell of a lot of my hairline being removed along with the Kanekalon. To avoid my hairline following the same fate as that of Stevie Wonder's I implored the hairdressers to "tek time", be gentle, don't pull the hair so tight and don't put so much hair on my head. This was when I learnt that hairdressers suffer with a condition known as selective deafness. The prevailing symptom is when, in a salon atmosphere, basic instructions from a client sound like white noise and are ignored. This experience occured in salons across south-east london.

My response?
To boycott salons completely - anything that I couldnt do myself I'd just have to live without.

When I started my locs I knew how to retwist, but for some reason I couldn't find the time to sit down and do it. My twists were floating on a sea of regrowth and I knew something had to be done.

And here we come to the point of this post. I found a salon the turns stereotype on its head

Strictly Dreadz in Crystal Palace renewed my faith in the black hair salon.

See why after the jump