No time to sing the blues

I'm a social butterfly, always have been, always will be. I thrive on nightlife and banter, and I thoroughly enjoy indulging in a full-on chinwag with my girlfriends (and guyfriends. Don't be fooled by the sexist myth; guys love to gossip that touch more than chics do). But my mother, being the African parent that she is, is forever wary that I have too many friends, worrying that not all can be true.

 Blazer : ASOS (Originally, but purchased in 'boutique') | Dress : H&M

Heels : Kurt Geiger

While indulging in a marathon 'The Good Wife' viewing, it became apparent that one too many women suffer from what my mother fears. Spending 1/2 your entire life stacking up friendships, only to be disaapointed when the going gets tough and you're left to solo your way through the struggle. I attended my friend Lolli (from blog, LolliHearts) leaving do to South Korea last friday; she rented out a service apartment in Canary Wharf and invited along a few close friends for a mini-sleepover (cute idea, i know). But the most moving of all gestures, was a male friend who'd travelled by coach all the way from Leicester, JUST to see her off. I mean, me and a few others made no secret of it that if we were in that same situation, she'd better be content with a skype call...LOL

Studs : Primark | Belt : Thrifted (Wales) | Ring : Swarovski | Watch : Michael Kors

Bag : ZARA

That gesture got me thinking about my mother's forewarning and whether it bore any weight. How many friends would cross channels and endure journeys across valleys and whatnot, JUST to see me off? And how many was I willing to return the favour for? Its Lent now, and as a Christian, its a time of reflection. I've noted that through the years, I've spent more than a few wasteful moments banging on about OTHERS not being true friends...what about me? What part am I playing, in ensuring that the union is as genuine as I'd like to believe?

This is the thought I wanted to throw out there, in this post. We spend all our time bitching about friends, but we need to remember that true friends are not just for fun, they are for life. Friendship is like a tug of war, both of you need to be pulling your weight on either side for there to be a balance. When you moan about not speaking to someone in so long, think whether YOU tried communicating? Its time to recognise what friends are more like seasonal leaches and need to be shrugged off as we venture into spring, and which friends are worth the effort on YOUR part, to carry them on to endless seasons in the future.

Onyxsta says...BLEURGH!! Not a time to be sad & blue, but a time to reflect if as a friend, you're loyal & true. Xisses

10 Things You Don't Know About Me

I was tagged by the lovely Andree Marie, a while back, to share 10 Things you guys don't know about me. So I itched my scalp (like the dude in Chainsaw Massacre) and came up with an entertaining list. Also wanted to add some visual aids of fun times that won't end up on a post, so might as well bong them all in here. ENJOY!

1)      I'm a film, music & book fanatic...more obsessed with words than much else. With music, I pay more attention to the lyrics than the melody. Annotate quotes and try to understand the underlying themes, rather than absorb the trivial activities occuring in a play/book. Watch out for buzzwords and legendary quotes, rather than getting carried away with the fickle hoo-ha in TV Shows & movies. I live by moving words & one day, want to compile a book of my favourite, life-changing quotes.

2)      I was born in Nigeria & lived there for 9 years, before moving to the UK with my entire family. Thus making me a 1^st generation migrant, otherwise known to some as a freshie...but shhhh! LOL

3)      I go by the alias of  'Onyxsta' or 'Onyx' on social networking sites and the blog world as I'm trying to carve out a reputable legal career for myself and don't want to merge my creative side, with my professional side.

4)      My five favourite drinks in the WORLD are Diet Coca-Cola with Lime, Strawberry Lemonade, Rubicon Passion Fruit, Fizzy Vimto and Supermalt. I live and die by these.

5)      I'm double-jointed in my fingers, but also SUPER clumsy. Those on my High School's yearbook committee will know how I begged & pleaded with the editor of the 'Most Likely to...' page NOT to include any clumsy references. I've sprained my ankle a million + 1 times, so much so, that I have a recovery-kit with balms and bandages ready-to-go at home for when the need arises.

6)      I'm a fat-kid at heart, and conceal my insatiable appetite before the likes of those judgmental size 0's by calling myself a 'foodie' instead. Although, I'm like Homer from the Simpsons and can tell you what unique ingredients are in a meal, sometimes from the aroma alone

7)      I can cook all things but particular native soups, and because of that, my mother claims I 'can't cook'...keep it movin'! You weren't saying that when you were munching on my baked spicy yams or my jerk chicken...hmmm

8)      My laugh is SO loud, and mostly ill-timed. My mother once called me a “laughing jackass" (whatever THAT means), and I'm known as the 'feel good girl' at work cos I can make anyone feel funny and entertaining cos I just laugh uncontrollably at the silliest things. But don't get it twisted, I don't laugh at ANYTHING. I can't stand slap-stick comedy and begs.

9)      1^st Impressions, people either think I'm a b*tch or shy. I tend to take a minute (in the metaphorical sense) to take in my surroundings and get a sense of people's personalities before I can feel free in my skin. 

10)   I fear the dark, toes, the smell of bananas, raisins, and cum. What? Perhaps I should put a Parental Advisory sticker atop the page...

I tag Lolli, Nicola, Lola+Fikki and Tomi. Can't wait to see what I don't know about you hunnies...so check out their blogs & watch out for their post.

Onyxsta says...BLEURGH!! 10 Things to Love & Hate About Me. Xisses

Part of the List

I'm raw with emotion, and this will probably be my most vulnerable post, but so be it. I indulged in a long latenight skype conversation with one of my closest guy friends lastnight, and not long after, the conversation legged it in the direction of aesthetic appeal and individual taste. For those who are staring blankly at the screen wondering what in the devil's name I could be on about...he brought up the fact that he & some other guy friends of mine, were discussing which one of the girls in Uni they found the hottest...and that alone, was enough to send me on a wild train to Nostalgia-Ville. Trust me, the journey was not one I'd like to relive....but here goes.

 Jacket : Boutique (Croydon) | Gap Shirt & High-waist jeans : Thrift Store (London)

This is the tale of the day that changed my life. There I was, standing in the corridor of my high-school one of many lunchtimes, enduring the mindless banter and snide comments thrown by the popular guys towards undeserving victims. Bored stiff, the guys then cast their attention to the group of girls across the hall from them (of which I was one), who cleverly (or not-so-intelligently, if you ask me) positioned themselves there to catch the guys' attention with an air of possession/  sense of belonging. The guys continued the game that had swept my year by storm, which was to rate the girls. Except, this time, they decided to rate 'us' in order i.e. from first to last, who was wifey-able. The list trailed on and on, as my ears pricked, I bid the powers that be that I fall anywhere but last. As they all struggled to draft the final 5 or 3 (or something low like that), I could feel my ears burning, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling, and my mouth go dry as my name was yet to be called out. I honestly don't know WHY I cared so much, but as a teenager, social acceptance is of paramount importance. So there I stood, and there I waited, as the proud selected girls held their heads up high and carried on with their lives...

 Bag : ZARA | Suede Pumps : H&M | Rings : Bonita's | Fur Headband : Primark

...until I heard one of my closest male friends propose my name "come on man" he bid the others to agree. After much protest, my name was firmly fixed in a spot not too low down the list (and I soon breathed a sigh of relief). Only for my brief moment of pride to come crashing down as I overheard this uber-douche whisper mean words about my looks, and levels of attractiveness, bidding others to just leave me off the list completely.  I spoke vaguely about this in my 'Live Your Life' post a solid year ago (so you guys know how I handled it afterwards), but never reflected on the true magnitude that particular occurrence had on my growth as a woman. There I stood, ashamed of my existence, crying inside, but holding my head up with pride. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder", but wise words fell by the wayside. I still have vulnerable moments and ugly days, but sometimes all it takes is a mental slap to realise that I'm not a 14year-old awkward looking kid anymore. I've grown into my features, and accepted my flaws.

Everyone looks at me now, and teases about how 'confident' and 'self-assured' I am, but I can testify that the journey here has not been easy; I am yet to reach my destination. Tracing back my steps in this post to how I began, I want to remind you that the list-drafting tradition is yet to go extinct among the male species. Funny enough, I was advocated as a prime candidate this time by said party of the opposite sex, except, his proposal was struck down by another with chimes of "Oh come ON!" That hurt, I wont lie, but the difference is, with years comes experience. I'm older now, and wise enough to recognise that his acknowledgment or approval is of no relevance to my life. After all, if I drafted a list of my own, he wouldn't even be in the running, so why sweat it?

Soundtrack of the Minute - Forgiveness : Wretch 32 ft Etta Bond

I received a Facebook 'friend request' today, only to click and see uber-douche himself. As I chuckled at the irony of it all, I was moved to draft this post. Seems lists are all the rage again, as another 'hottie list' was also drafted at work, and Lord knows if my male colleagues find me sexually appealing or not (although I hope not, as we work in a law firm, and I'd probably be prompted by HR to file a suit for sexual harassment), cos I sure as hell aint checkin' for them. LOL!!

Onyxsta says...BLEURGH!! You cannot be to everyone's taste. In looks, there's no One Size Fits All. Xisses

Hunter: Saviour of Snow

Disclaimer: Apologies for throwing you off in this post with the hair I'm rocking, but this is me in present-day, 2 styles ahead...but as promised, I'll catch-up. But just thought to add current pics of me in snow, otherwise I'd be adding this when Spring was in full-bloom knowing me.

OMG! So, if you follow me on Twitter, you'll probably be one-up on the tale of my perilous journey lastnight....Buckle up kids, cos this is a about to be a bumpy ride. So my bestie **Tee invited me out to Imperial's annual cultural show (Afrogala), something out of our comfort zone of clubbing, bars & dinners. At first, I was averse to the idea, then an old pal was in town from Gambia, and we decided to go out and that seemed like the right spot. As they always do, plans fell through, but as Tee had already purchased tickets, we decided to go regardless.

 Me - Shirt : Blanco (Gran Canaria) | Jumper : H&M | High-waist Jodphurs : Thrifted (Wales) Necklace : New Look | Studs : **Gift (Nigeria) | Wellington Boots : Hunter (Office)

Brother - Jumper : **Gift| Scarf : H&M | Jeans : Levi's | Boots : Timbaland

That fateful morning, I woke up with a knot in my throat, and a raving mother at my door pointing dramatically at the clock and informing me of the time. Weirdly enough, I'd slept at a decent hour, but had somehow managed to stand my alarm clock up at wake-up time, and had opted for a lie-in instead. Without plans for the day, and after TfL'ing (for those overseas, that means Transport for London) their journey to a mourning family, I was set on a day of cosying in bed, curled up by Blanche watching my new TV obsession, Revenge (post on that COMING SOON!).

 (Mucking about with my brother in the snow. Mother was the Director of this madness....funny lady)

At about 6 (the time the food was being served before the show, but you black people and timing so...), I'd managed to drag my ailing body out of bed and was getting ready only to get in an odd argument with Tee. Weird, cos as much as we are both budding lawyers-in-the-making, we hardly EVER get into arguments. Ok, thats a lie, but still...this one came out of nowhere. Like, words were uttered, but not with the intention of ever causing a rift. After hanging up, I was like "How am I gonna go to a show with this chic and just be fakey-smiley smiley the whole time?" So I called back and we mended our differences.
I set out, and got that scary phonecall from a mother that doesn't know of your evening's plans. Oh...you don't get those? Well, in my family we live by the principle of what you don't know wont hurt you, so we save all informing until the very last minute. That way, the damage is already done, and you can avoid any cockblocking on a grand scale. So my mother lastnight was no different. She was all "where do you think you're going?", "its snowing", "everyone is making their way in, you're making your way out" and all the 'usual' jazz I thought. So i silenced her worries and assured her all will be well, all the while looking outside the window at my TfL mode of transport, and rolling my eyes at how dramatic she was being...little did I know.

We roll into London and BOOM! People walking in have hair covered in snow, and the roads are ankle-deep in the stuff...I'm like "What The Actual F*ck???" (A GC term) We attend the show, and all is well with the world (post on that coming....MUCH later LOL...still playing catch-up, spare me). We step outside the hall and BAM! WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK?!? The land is littered with snow! Cars are skidding, roads are chucker-block...i'm like, OH SNAP! The bus we're meant to take isn't anywhere in sight, so we decide to take one to a nearby train station and take the Underground to Victoria....if only it were that easy. The lines are all suspended, so after a 30mins wait, a clear contradiction to the darned board listing the waiting time as '9mins', I hop on the jam-packed train where I'm squashed to the point of suffocation and have to howl "I can't breathe, I need air" to get enough attention to allow room for my head to pop up, and then transfer to Victoria from the next station. At Victoria, I run to my platform to a delayed train, little did I know I'd be walking into a marketplace. The platform was filled with over 250 angry passengers, who were left standing on the platform to a train that refused to open its doors cos there was no driver. Train comes in 45mins later and they all run to the next platform like a sea of ants for a cube of sugar.

Running back and forth from platform to platform like a headless chicken, I decide not to be a member of the flock of sheep and approach a conductor to ask "WHAT THE ACTUAL F*CK?" to which he explains that MY train is about to leave from a platform on the other side of the station, but he'll try his best to hold it for me....WTAF?!?! So here I am, in peeptoe wedges, running across the train station for a train thats gonna leave in 2mins, and will take double the time to get there, as it stops in about a million stops beforehand...BLEURGH!! I hop on the train, unprepared for the ride of my life...train's sparking and screeching...dear Lord, never been so scared! Call my regular cab company 3 stops away from home, only to be told that they REFUSE to drive up to my wretched area cos its all uphill and whatnot...damned country Forest village! I resolve to take a black cab, to my brother's protest and he BBM's me other cab numbers to try, which I do, and book one that claims to get me home but at double the price - I agree, at the back of my mind always thinking I'd just walk out and take a black cab from the station. Oh no...not that night. the queue stretched all the way from the station door to the carpark! I join the queue and wait for my cab at the same time, which thankfully turns up 15mins after (10mins earlier than its estimated 25mins waiting time...good sign). I hop on and we set off, he strikes off 1st route, and on our 2nd route we get stuck up a hill to the point I think I'm gonna be sleeping in a stranger's car. He reverses, and we try route 3...we get stuck up that hill too but he's determined to get me home (after several threats that I'd have to be abandoned by the way-side or walk home from the middle of nowhere) and he gets me to the mainroad leading to my area, before I have to get out and walk out in 6-inch deep snow in peeptoe wedges...oh yeah! In total, it takes me 4 stank hours to get home, in what would normally have taken just over an hour *sigh* NEVER AGAIN!

Onyxsta says...BLEURGH!! Always follow your instincts or you might find yourself stuck with a stranger for the night in The Sticks. Xisses

Enugu 2011

It being the first day of the month and all...I thought it best to suck on a lolly of nostalgia for a brief bit. Plus, I'm seriously playing a losing game with time and I'm struggling to post all this stuff so I can finally be in the present...so here goes.

About a fortnight into my new job, I took 10-day holiday to Nigeria for my cousin's wedding in the East...and let me just say, it was BRILL! I made a handful of new friends & met tons of new family members. And not the ones that are tryna scrounge off you for every nickel you've got either, these were people who were lovely, and friendly, and generous from their own pockets. Never spent a dime of my own money on their turf...loved it! I always make a BFF on every trip & this time *points above* the bestie in question was a lovely lass, cousin of a cousin, bearing a fitting name as well, Angel. We were in the wedding train together as the youngest bridesmaids so we had an instant connection. Also, with me being a tomboy at heart, and she being young at heart and eager for male attention, we spent most of our time jammin' in the guys' room together as the sole female pair. We crashed their palm-wine binging sessions (cat out of the bag...yes NeeNee, it was us that downed the good keg on the 1st night *blush*), FIFA tournaments & lads' nights out to the clubs and 'joints' LOL.

We touched down in Lagos, and were warmly welcomed by no electricity, a broken waterpump and delicious homecooked jollof rice by our house help. We only stayed there for 2 days before jetting off to Enugu, but made fun a priority. Everyone that goes 'back home' understands that its never a holiday, but not this time. We made sure to venture out solo (me & my brother *not pictured*) and interact with the locals....twas SO much fun. I was the talk of my estate by Day 3 with my skater skirts & slender legs. Guys in foreign countries are much more forward than what we're used to in the UK. On our flight to the East, I met the comedian Clint the Drunk (pictured above) and Nkem Owoh when we touched down (but my camera cockblocked my claim to fame).

The wedding was the day after we hit town, and as me & Angel had crashed the guys' room under the impression we were going on a mad bender the night before (we were disappointed as nothing really took off that night but drinking and banter, which was still fun), we ended up kipping at 4am, and were groggily woken up at 6AM!!! 2 hours beauty sleep...IMAJ?? The wedding was a beautiful affair, with a gorgeous theme of fuschia, champagne and teal. The bridesmaid's dresses were floor-length teal gowns, and we had our hair professionally tied up and fastened with gold bands; jewellery and makeup were to your discretion. As you can see, I kept it simple with a flush of the themed colours, but nothing too dramatic. The ceremony itself, was held in the city cathedral, and the reception in an immaculately decorated hotel banquet hall not too far away.

We spent the rest of our time in Enugu trippin' from icecream parlours, 'point & kill' joints, to clubbing and just generally chillin'. I realised in my time there, that I'm a hot freakin' commodity, and came back to London with a renewed flair for adventure and life. I was beaming for like 2 weeks straight (and need to go back to that *forcefully grins*) and that bubbly aura was contagious. I was getting approached far more and it was clear that 'cos I'd altered my attitude towards life, ergo my life had altered. Sometimes it takes a step out of your norm, to truly gauge what your ideal is.

Onyxsta says...BLEURGH!! Enugu 2011...Reunion Coming Soon! Xisses

BLEURGHair: The Invisible Side Part

Hola Bleurgher Boos! I'm SERIOUSLY lagging behind but this was the hairstyle I was rocking three hair-do's ago...but I'm working on a catch-up. The style was intended for my cousin's wedding, which was held in Nigeria (post on my Nigerian Experience coming soon...).

I'd been rocking a bob of several variations, for a while and wanted a longer style that was feminine and accentuated my facial features. I've always LOVED side fringes, but have always struggled to find a good-enough hairdresser to get it JUST right. So who better than me? I'm growing my health-risked natural hair underneath, and wanted to still keep it in a protective style, and after MONTHS of Lolli from LolliHearts selling me the pros of 'invisible parting', I decided to give it a go.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with this technique, you basically braid your entire hair in the pattern of your parting, with no leave-outs. Then you sew in 4/5ths of your weave leaving about an inch in front, where you will either sew/glue in tracks, horizontally towards your face. If that made no sense to you whatsoever? Then you're probably sailing in the same boat as my hairdresser, and I will tell you exactly what I told her (or showed her, after instructing her to take out the mess she had sewn on my head...yeah! I'm a difficult client, get over it)...WATCH YOUTUBE!

I left her with a HUGE smile on my face, and went home to curl the hair into a wavy finish, and trim a side-sweep-fringe for myself. I LOVED this hair...it was full, dark and wispy. The perfect combination. What do you darls think? And are any of you invisible-part addicts? LOL

Onyxsta says...BLEURGH!! Sweep the fringe with a hair slide, you still can't spot the tracks on an invisible side. Xisses