Tuesday 29 September 2009

Tough Love Rule #73: Don't try to out-think love



You can tell I live in the UK, because it's only in September 2009 that VH1's Tough Love reality show has hit our screens. I love it!

You really learn something new every night (11pm), or rather- you hear something you've heard a million times before but never bothered to consider it actually might be of some use if you're a singleton subjecting yourself to dates in the name of finding love. The shows ballsy matchmaker and host, Steve Ward, tries to get a bunch of women to see dating from the male POV.

There's no sugar-coating those myths and delusions that the women claim are the reasons behind them being single; in fact, I definitely see myself in the well-intentioned but very confused behaviour on display in the house. The girls all have nicknames reflecting their key dating flaws. The one I most resemble? Miss Picky, without a doubt! I'm not yet at the tiara wearing stage or trusting a pet to pick my dates, as poor Abiola does, but I have my fair share of crazy. One of which: if you're not an astrological fit, we have issues...or is that, I have issues? Hmn...

Anyway, I sit there laughing, ohhing and O.M.G!! mouthing along with the resident drama queen, Taylor (Miss Gold Digger), but what stays with me by the end of each funny episode will be one of Steve's top 100 dating rules. Tonight's top tip for me? Rule#73: Don't try to out-think love. Love is emotional, not cerebral. Sometimes you can be so smart it makes you stupid. Find out if he's on your level.

So very true, for all Miss Picky Overthinkers out there. Can't wait to see what tomorrow's penultimate episode brings, though I can guess: more cat fights, another Ariane or Jody meltdown, possibly some more confrontation between Steve (hot, in a jock kind of way) and hard-to-read Jessa, aka Ms "I don't like you".

Tuesday 22 September 2009

Are You Ok? I Don't Think So



At what point do you have to stop running along a path, and admit it's a blind alley, admit you're lost? For the past two months, I've gone from a walk into a sprint since my uncle died and only now, when the world expects me to 'be ok', do I have to acknowledge that I'm not.

I'm still in mourning. It's the same for my mum and brother. Before there was a benchmark to aim for, prompting you to keep going: a church and priest to find, a funeral to arrange, tables and chairs for the wake who-know-how many will attend, his apartment to clean, his estate to sort out, his life's possessions and all the things connecting him to the system, as a citizen. Cancelled, like debt. What's left after the public displays of mourning, reminiscence and physical goodbyes, is just you. Friends text to see how I am, some haven't even bothered, most assume the worst is behind me. They're wrong. When you lose a loved one, the worst is ahead of you. The intensity cools down a little, that much I know. It's been two months and the soothing effect of time is already noticeable. I can think of him without the fear of immediate tears flowing. Instead, what happens is I cry at unpredictable, intermittent moments. Little things lie in wait to set me off like boobie traps. Watching a TV or movie death scene provokes tears of emotion rawer than the script surely had intended. I find myself relating to characters on duff daytime soaps, and think maybe that writer incorporated a little bit of their knowledge and experience into this.

"What they don't tell you when someone dies is that it sucks. People talk about time being a healer, but right now it just really sucks" a character called Aiden on Home & Away said at his young wife's funeral. And he's right.

Well meaning people, some are friends, some acquaintances, giving me their cliched bile, telling me what they 'know'. You don't know unless you've been here, I don't care how intuitive you think you are.

In a hospital scene in Neighbours waiting to see if young mum Bridgette will be ok, her husband Declan snapped at his teenage friends "If you can't be positive, then just go home". His impatience at their inability to offer understanding of his all-consuming panic hastily spilled over. I feel like if these people haven't got anything useful to say, just say nothing. Don't try and feel your way through, because it's too soon and it doesn't help. Far from it, it actually angers me. These people, stumbling through the emotional carnage of a broken down 'me' with the casualness that only comes from never having experienced this kind of loss. Maybe they're underestimating the uncle-niece relationship? Maybe they don't have a strong bond there to relate to. Some family relationships on paper strike a stronger, universal resonance- Dad/Mum-daughter, I get it. Brother-sister, ah, that's a terrible loss. The assumption that they can speak to me as if time should have done it's healing by now, and everything should be alright? It galls me.

Hey chick, how's things? what's up?

Awful, that's how it is. I feel like I've been unplugged from the Matrix and for the time being, I've got gloupy porridge on the horizon and no tender, juicy steaks and fine red wines in sight. There's no other way to cut this, so I'm going to come straight out with it. What you now know, what is tangeable, real and unavoidable, is the realisation that the end is always around the corner. Not the knowing death is guaranteed to us all. I'm talking about feeling death everywhere. Take the 'knowledge' and follow that thought through to its conclusion- you live, you die and there's no timeline, only hope. People talk about the young dying being unfair, because that's how it feels- a sense of injustice, like they've had no time. When the old die, we say 'they had a good, long life'. These are all platitudes. There IS no guarantee. The young dying is just the young dying- a shame, but unavoidable. I read these emails from people, going about their business as a good drone does, as I used to, with my plans and dreams and my bullshit. I got a throbbing headache last night, I've been feeling a little fluey, so tried to put it down to that. But all I could think after downing glasses of water and taking aspirin, as I felt a vein along the front of my head throb, was how this could be it for me. I could die of an embolism right now! The stock response is, 'you're being paranoid' and the answer is 'yeah, I am' but the truth? I could die of that embolism, it could be my time right now. 29 years was what I got.

My uncle passed and not one of us has experienced a dream, vision or feeling where his spirit has been back. Might sound crazy to some, but I believe in a soul, and that this isn't the end. Anyone who's confronted the absolute stillness of a corpse believes in something beyond this. But I have no answers as to where or how or anything. Heaven as a construct sounds beautiful, a place of pure love. But this is a world that hasn't prepared us for that, so it's a stretch in imagination or faith to say the least. I believe he's someplace better, and it's always easier to say that about others and to others. Not surprisingly, I feel better believing he is safe and protected and not in the pain he would have been in by the end. But when I think about where I will go, how does that work? I'm logical and the leaps of faith aren't something I can grasp while I'm still so seated within my body, if not a little unsettled with my place in the world right now.

I don't feel ok with the insecurity of not having the time to get adjusted to my eventual death. I don't think 'being dead' is something any of us should individually worry about because by then it's fact and the loss effects those left behind more than the person gone. My worry is the actual part of dying, of slipping away, and of finding solace and peace when the time comes. I want to know I'll be able to accept what's happening, once I 'know'. If I accomplish anything in life, I need to evolve enough to believe that. And yet, here I am alive and well (God willing), dwelling on the end.

I'm Sorry For Your Loss...

Are you? Or is it just a nice thing to say to someone whose doing that thing you've seen others experience. Yes, grieving. I underestimated how much it would absorb you, or could do. Different strokes for different folks, I guess. I underestimated how finite that line is drawn between the 'before death' and 'after'. May as well be night and day.

When I think about it, of course it hurts. It should hurt if the person meant anything to you. If you love, then you guarantee yourself loss at some point. If you live, then you must face the reality of death- as a spectator of the end or participant whose time it is to meet their own.

I wrote this all because I realise how difficult it is to deal with a grieving friend- what do I say? what should I do? I wrote this to work out why it was that I find myself getting as angered by the peppy tone in well-meaning emails as I am annoyed by the total avoidance of the subject by others. I'm riled because life carries on, but is never the same as it was before that day, before 7 August 2009 when we found out. I'm riled because whether it's 8 weeks since or 2 weeks, nobody but those who have been through it know how difficult this is. Arranging a funeral is like throwing a big party in a country where you don't speak the language and have no guestlist. It's the hardest job I've ever done in the most alien of circumstances, yet people ask me 'How comes it takes so long?' with a straight face. You remove your loved one, a part of you, from the world
and people just expect you to move on. Just like that? I'm riled because when I say what happened and say I've been busy, it should not follow to ask 'can't wait to hear all you've been up to!'. Did you not hear what I said?

So in answer to the question, am I ok? No I'm not. I can't tell you when I ever will be, but given there are only two ends of the spectrum- life and death- I know at some point I'll move back along the line and rejoin the Matrix, that middle ground. I'll let time take away the burn of this loss, take away the endless questions about how he died or speculation 'was it swine flu?' by my loved ones, make feeling at a loss for what to do with myself and re-assessing my priorities and goals in life redundant. One day, I'll be alright, but that time is not now, dear friends. Patience helps and the distraction of sports chatter (see previous blog entries- thanks US Open) and a surprise trip to Vegas (eternally thankful, Mo Mo) and The Osmonds. But more than anything, please accept that when I say I'm not ok, you don't have to do or say anything. Understanding as best you can is enough.

Sunday 20 September 2009

Dave Chappelle: COME BACK. PURLEEEEEZ!!


It was a repeat showing of Dave Chappelle's Washington DC gig, Killing Me Softly' (HBO) which set off my night of nostalgia for the comic stylings of Sir Chappelle. A quick scan through TV listings at 12.30am on Paramount UK, and there she was- a rare juicy morsel of Chappelle humour, which I didn't have to download, stream, listen on audio or pull out on DVD. Success!

I love Dave, and a quick google or youtube search will show I'm not alone. Even on twitter, one chap @Dave_Chapelle is keeping the spirit alive by tweeting vid clips (bless his cotton socks).

This led to spontaneous laughter at my recollection of favourite skits steeped in Chappelle-esque humour, from the culturally and socially astute, to the sublimely ridiculous (Tupac skit 'I wrote this song a long time ago, a real long time ago; way before Slim Shady was in demand, way before we dropped buloni on Afghanistan; I wrote this song in '94'; the blind White supremacist Clayton Bigsby (whose Black) and questionable teachings on Sesame Street 'Get it together Grouch!').

Chappelle is a veritable comedic legend to anyone who appreciates comedy, let alone African-Americans. I'm a Black Briton, and he's a legend to me. To my brother, too. Chappelle humour is outlandish and equally recognisable because of his humane approach and intimate delivery- you laugh through the revelation of what Dave's saying, and double over at the truth suddenly seen within it.

A Huffington Post piece I just read summed it up: "I find myself every now and then longing for at least 5 or 6 minutes a week I would receive a good laugh at life's absurdities. Damn, I miss Dave Chappelle".

His 2004 Charlie Rose- a Conversation with Dave Chappelle interview, which I recommend along with his appearance on Oprah, will help to understand the man and his comedy a little better too.

Go on. Get your 5 minute fill of Dave Chappelle. You'll feel better for it.

Monday 14 September 2009

Clijsters Gets it Done: US Open Womens Final 2009


This match was far more topsy turvey than you'd think from the outset. While 19-year old Dane Caroline Wozniacki battled hard and got some fab break point opportunities, ultimately experience told. Clijsters held the edge with solid baseline ground strokes, mixing pace, and pressing at the net when needed.

Bloggers, twitterers and commentators talked about a subdued atmosphere on Arthur Ashe. Psh, I didn't see that! The New York crowd seemed a little stunned to even get a match, even if hope of it going the distance faded fast once Clijsters took the first (a little fortuitously) 7-5. Her victory on the horizon, though certainly not sealed, that left space to admire some fantastic long rallies, the wonderful enthusiasm of Wozniacki (who I envied for enjoying the moment whilst battling at the same time -not easy to do!) and the fierceness of Kim Clijsters to finish off a tense final game.

The winner is famously a lovely person, in addition to her competitiveness, and all in all this was a surprisingly refreshing final. Both tried hard, the winner deserved it, no one choked- nothing but celebratory clapping, baby mamma cliche remarks in the trophy ceremony (Mary Jo Fernandez shamelessly trying to provoke more 'I did it for the kid' sooundbites from Clijsters), adorable daughter Jada Lynch pointing excitedly whenever she saw herself on the big screen (move over Shiloh Jolie Pitt, there's a younger blonde moppett in town) and happy tears (not grief stricken what-the-hell-happened-out-there stares into the distance. Sorry Dinara, that'd be you).

I also liked that Caroline speaks fluent Danish and Polish and chose to hijack the airwaves demonstrating this with a lengthy shout out in native tongues to her peeps- go girl, keep on talking, let the music play before you hand over the mike...

For someone who expected to be underwhelmed by the womens final, this kept me on my toes enough. Welcome back Kim!

Sunday 13 September 2009

Foot in Mouth? In Defense of Serena Williams

I'm a big tennis fan, and nothing pleased me more than the recent good headlines coming from the womens game at the US Open: Cinderella Oudin, The Return of Mighty Mamma Clijsters, The Tenacious Euro Teens Reaching Semi Debut.
Much better than the usual complaints and argument about rankings. But what went on at the end of a scintillating second set in the Williams-Clijsters match up has gone on to ruin that.

Quite frankly, I feel pretty flat about the finals coming up tonight- and it has nicht to do with the worthy and deserving competitors who'll play, Kim Clijsters and Caroline Wozniaki.

I'm miffed because of the unequivocal and pious bashing Serena William's is taking for the default point on match point. Let us get this straight: at 3-5 (Clijsters), in the second set, on 15-30 with Williams on her second serve, the lines woman called a foot fault. To clarify, a foot fault occurs when a player touches the baseline or the court with either foot. This decision, with its subsequent point penalty, brought the game to match point. Now, who really thinks this is a good decision to call such a minor infraction at THAT time? I feel like Chandler from Friends asking, Can there BE a worse time?


Remember, this is the marque match. For all intents and purposes, this is the US Open Womens Final with the defending champion facing off with the comeback kid. In non-headline terms, a match with Serena engaged and dominated by the only player in the womens draw, not called Williams, able to truly threaten the 11-time Grand Slam winner at a Grand Slam.

The answer is no: there really couldn't be a worse time. From this erroneous decision, one that on replay looks dubious to boot, followed a sorry chain of events which leaves neither player nor tournament looking especially good. Serena Williams did unleash her fury on the lines woman, yes. Everyone saw how vexed she was, and everyone probably hoped she wouldn't edge back over the fateful second time having walked back to her service position. But she did. And it led to the Code Violation point deduction and match over.

I am not arguing the right and wrong of what Serena did- she had a choice, although her frustration at the time was wholly understandable. But just as Serena had a choice, so too did the lines woman. She had the choice to call that fault or not, to evaluate the degree of the infraction against the moment of play.

Veteran USTA tennis official Carol Cox, who evaluates the lines men and referees, said in an excellent article on the NYTimes Straight Sets blog that there are two schools of thought on making a foot fault call at a critical juncture : "call it when you see it; or don't make a call that can decide a match unless it's flagrant". No 'in other words' needed here- unless the player has systematically made these faults through the match or puts their size 10's some meters in court, you don't have to make the call! That is their 'get out of jail' card, allowing the lines man more margin for interpretation than most of the paid pundits or armchair critics care to recognise.

I haven't trawled through all the papers and blogs out there (by choice), but it doesn't take long to see the easy route most people are choosing: to blame Williams for unsportsman like behaviour, rather than or in addition to acknowledging the howler of a mistake that this line woman made with her suspect fault call. Filip Bondy's NY Daily article was equally appalled by the way broadcast commentators rounded on Serena so vehemently, as if shouting at the refs and lines men was something new, even if never right.

I say call it as it is. It takes two to tango, but only one whose name we all know.

US Open: It Must Be Madness

That entry is for insane scheduling.

Every sports section of NY-LON news outlets acknowledge the same thing- US Open scheduling sucks. Notably, The Times online suggests the US Open 'get [their] act together', while Jim Courier even posted a tweet referring followers to the NY Times explanation of this notoriously tricky process of any sports tournament. ESPN have been conveniently quiet, but then, given the not-so-content reviews of their tennis coverage at times, I'm not surprised they favour commenting from the sidelines (Times Online has nada to lose; they've got viewers and renewal rights to think of).

We all know the demands of TV and her alluring kerching play a major factor in scheduling matches, but surely we have to draw the line when such scheduling puts a possible strain on the players who we all tune in/pay to see in the first place? Is it fair that some players are expected to play a semi and final back to back, or indeed a quarter, semi and a final? The USTA would seem to think so. Of course sportsmen have to deal with the circumstances and conditions they find themselves in (who's going to care or remember, if they go on to win the tournament?).

I just think making the battlefield a level one from the outset should be the priority- if a win is earned by testing mental, physical, emotional and technical ability, then the control over the conditions set by the organisers ought to be equal. For everyone.

That way, when my boy Rafa Nadal gets the better of Roger Federer, I can happily gloat; or if Rogie finesses past Rafa, I take it on the chin while simultaneously avoiding the gloating calls from my Fed Friends in our ongoing rivalry (check the oh-so-true 'You're Either For Federer or Nadal- Not Both' article)

*Footnote- as it happens, Rafa was solidly beaten by an inspired Juan Martin Del Potro (aka Gentle Giant) 6-2, 6-2, 6-2. No reminiscent update of the rivalry this year. After Rogers defeat of Djokovic and that utterly SICK penultimate between the legs shot, have to say El Fed is looking very sharp. We'll see who takes it! (updated Monday, 14/9/09 at 03:24 while watching the Womens Final. Wozniacki should have won the 1st set already. Will she be made to rue those lost chances??)

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