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Don't Take That Love Song Literally.

Love songs.   They put us under so much undue pressure, don’t you think?!  Consider these famous song titles.   You To Me Are Everything.   You’re My First, My Last, My Everything.   You Are Everything, And Everything Is You.   No, scratch that last one.   Those are actually lyrics.   But they paint an accurate picture of the song. Who on God’s green earth would want to be everything to anyone?   The air they breathe, the blood rushing through their veins, their happiness, their sadness, their raison d’ĂȘtre ?! I wouldn’t. Let me explain. When we fall in love and get into a relationship, we tend to forget that the reason we were attracted to our person, and they to us, is that we possessed certain qualities that we saw in each other and liked.   Made us think, I want to be around you and bask in your general awesomeness all the time.   It could be the way they talk, their love for animals, their sense of humour.   Hell, it could be the size of their breasts.   Whateve

Don't Take That Love Song Literally.

Love songs.  They put us under so much undue pressure, don’t you think?! Consider these famous song titles.  You To Me Are Everything.  You’re My First, My Last, My Everything.  You Are Everything, And Everything Is You.  No, scratch that last one.  Those are actually lyrics.  But theypaint an accurate picture of the song. Who on God’s green earth would want to be everything to anyone?  The air they breathe, the blood rushing through their veins, their happiness, their sadness, their raison d’ĂȘtre?! I wouldn’t. Let me explain. When we fall in love and get into a relationship, we tend to forget that the reason we were attracted to our person, and they to us, is that we possessed certain qualities that we saw in each other and liked.  Made us think, I want to be around you and bask in your general awesomeness all the time.  It could be the way they talk, their love for animals, their sense of humour.  Hell, it could be the size of their breasts.  Whatever rocks your boat. It could b

Of Unfathomable Mind Blocks

I received a tweet last week that left me crippled with guilt.   A self-proclaimed ‘ardent reader’ declared that I hadn’t updated my blog for ten days (sadly true), that he was ‘down on his knees’ (not sure if he was literally or figuratively speaking), and basically pleaded in the most endearing way that I get my arse in gear and write something (of course he was too much of a gentleman to put it that way, but I think that’s what he meant). Much as things have been stupidly manic at work, I know that is no excuse for not putting down at least 300 words on some topic or other.   There has been A LOT going on:   what with nude pictures and beloved comics accused of sexual assault, not to mention THAT maid video, you’d think I’d have plenty of material at my disposal   to yap about. But I’ve been in the grip of a mind-block so severe it has literally taken my breath away. I’ve tried everything- chilled music, exercise, sitting in silence, reading my favourite books, ever

To Be Tactfully Honest...

Ugandans are known the world-over as friendly, humble people. We welcome you to our homes, we hate to offend, and we are willing to share the little we have. You get the general picture.   We are nice people. I was recently reminded that Ugandans also have a tendency to be somewhat tactless.   Some might argue that they simply aspire to a level of honesty that most people tend to avoid, but I beg to differ. Let me explain. I recently bumped into a distant relative I hadn’t seen for a while.   I was dashing around the supermarket, trying to grab some essential ingredients as I was making a special meal for the boo that evening.   As always, I had my iPod on full blast, so I didn’t notice the lady calling my name across the aisle until she actually came up behind me and tugged on my braids.   (I mean, really? Hair-pulling?   So low).    Now she had my attention, I had to deal with the extended greetings,   questions about my family, the farm, my job and wheth

Coffee and Me- A love affair.

Last week I attempted, rather unsuccessfully, to wean myself off coffee. I do a morning show on radio 6 days a week, so coffee has become an essential part of my life, and my show. But as part of my new health regimen (that’s for another article, so don’t ask) I needed to cut down the number of cups I drink to no more than two standard-sized mugs a day in lieu of the six large-enough-to-drown-a-small-rodent type I tend to favour.   Much as cutting down was a better option than cutting it out altogether, it was extremely difficult because I love coffee. I don’t think you understand. I looooooooooooooooooooove coffee. Black and strong.   Hot.   Delicious.   Just talking about it makes me want some. It tastes good, it makes me feel good.   I swear, I do a better show when I drink coffee. In fact, I would go so far as to say that coffee makes me a better person. And how do I know this? I drastically cut my coffee intake last week, and several unfort

Some Truth About Lies

There’s been a lot of noise made about a certain soda company’s radio advert, where a little girl denies having seen her mother’s soda yet we clearly hear her slurping away at the start of the ad. Some concerned citizens have taken it upon themselves to accuse the company of encouraging our children to lie to their parents.   Some radio stations have taken the moral high-ground and gone so far as to edit the offending part of the ad script out, so that we never hear the little girl’s untruth and in so doing, protect our children from learning how to condemn their souls to hell. (I digress, but how do we know that the little girl really hasn’t seen her mother’s soda and is giggling gleefully at the fact that the responsible adult has misplaced it while the child enjoys her own? We already know the mother is rather feckless because, in all honesty, which African mother knocks on her child’s door before entering?   Some of us got in trouble just for closing the door, never m