They say you should never meet your heroes. I think sometimes you should never read about them either because while the message of Shonda Rhimes’ “Year of Yes” was loud and clear, it was a little too loud. She is definitely a TV writer. I could hear the words being screamed off the page. Continue reading “Notes on Yes”
I am the Queen of the side-hustle, but lately I’ve been hankering for something more… stable. It’s a new arena for me. I’m not a big planner. I thrive on procrastination. But it works. I’ve excelled at most of the things I’ve done, albeit the fact that they’ve all been done at the last minute.
But I want change. I want to buy a condo and pay taxes and come home tired and crank open a bottle of wine because I can’t be bothered to cook myself dinner. I want a full-time job. Continue reading “Notes on Self-sabotage”
Peak is a brand of powdered and evaporated milk products, sold in Ghana and other neighboring West African countries. Since the 90s, Peak has used the slogan “It’s in You”.
It’s in You. The milk is in you. I think the intention is to allude to one’s inner beauty, which drinking milk brings out, according to ad experts. Even as a child I didn’t get it. Imagine my surprise to have seen the same slogan being used on an advert this afternoon, plastered boldly on the side of a truck I pray hasn’t been upgraded since 1995. Because it’s bad enough that someone was paid for coming up with the slogan “Peak: It’s in You”, but to have it live on is a legacy the likes of which can only survive in an environment that is already well-accustomed to the reek of mediocrity. Continue reading “Notes on Peak Milk”
I still have chills from a long conversation I had last week with a US-based Ghanaian Trump supporter (they exist). His argument in support basically went like this:
USA is losing global power.
USA must have global power.
Ammunitions are the lifeblood of the US economy
Hence, US needs a President who is willing to go to war. Continue reading “Notes on An American Immigrant”
If this is some weird yet brilliantly connived publicity stunt, I am going to be so pissed. I just spent an hour legit googling Rachel Roy and the trail of honey and lemon peels left in her wake as she run for the highlands. The Bey hive is vicious. But it can’t be a stunt if Becky with the good hair, from what can be gleaned, is now being incessantly bullied, and has probably received a death threat or two. Right? But then again it’s hard enough times in the fashion game that I can see how someone who “lives in the light” would come to the dark side for a few additions 0s. She’ll disappear and in a year, no one will care.
Catching feelings is the worst. But even worse when have fashioned a carefully curated aura of nonchalance. The cool chick. The one you can just chill and kick it with. Ugh. Usually, I can’t decide if I am a flaming erotomaniac or have an immense capacity to attract mindfucks. This is the process:
Boy, you may not even be attracted to, is nice to you. All the time. It’s uncomfortable. But.. nice. He cares. Most of your friends don’t. In fact, the majority of your friendships are predicated on the fact that you are a good listener and your friends like to talk about themselves. But boy is nice and he cares and he wants to know what you think. He engages in long conversations usually over some instant messaging platform because amongst your many quirks, you suspect you may also be agoraphobic. But you’ll break out every once in a while to see him and leave strangely energized. You start to notice how happy you are after every coffee, every shopping trip set to the sound of 90s pop music and 3-5 chin-rub-worthy wardrobe changes in your head. Continue reading “Notes on The Feels”