rebel.of.honour

About two months ago, a very good friend asked that I become the maid of honour at her wedding. After she said those words to me over the phone, there was a pause and subsequently, 5-10 seconds of laughter. It was a shared joke. She and I have been friends for about 7 years now and having met on the soccer field, she knew what she was asking when she asked it. During that momentary pause in time (all of 2 seconds) I became dizzy with an assortment of thoughts; thoughts of make-up, eyebrow tweezing, high-heeled shoes, dress, nails painting, flowers and all the other out-of-character things I would have to endure. After running back and forth the tracks of this mental "ordeal", the "honour" bit in the title entered my consciousness and the dizzying thoughts settled. So I asked, "Do I have to wear a dress?" and with that she knew that I'd already accepted the position and the rest became a part of history that will never be forgotten.

As a child, due to my very nature, I was never used as a flower girl in any wedding, and as I grew older, I preferred a more background role (taking pictures and making sure everyone followed the day's protocol) avoiding the spotlight as much as possible. So this was the perfect opportunity to prove to the world what I was made up of as I took reigns of a prominent part in a wedding ceremony. To be honest with you I was more "afraid" than anything else. Nevertheless, I took hold of the role gladly and yet, gingerly, uncertain of what to expect, yet hopeful.

[caption id="attachment_204" align="aligncenter" width="516" caption="(from left to right) Naa, Marcy, Karen and the Rebel of Honour"][/caption]

As the days rolled closer to the D-day, it still didn't hit me, not even when I tried on the dress. The very first reaction I got was from my younger brother was summed-up into a simple shriek (better seen than said). Turning aside from that, I showed it to the bride who thought I looked dashing so I ignored my brother.

Then on the day of the event, during my make-up session, it hit me. Real hard this time; with every stroke of the make-up brush. I knew then, that there was no use holding back, and so I let go, ridding my self of almost every Rebel Ryter attachment and allowing the Rebel of Honour spirit to take over. Evidently, after my make-up session, I couldn't recognize myself in the mirror, and as a direct result, the rest of the day was extremely surreal. Thankfully, before I could drift too far off into wonderland, I reminded myself of the very essence of the day's event and that made every tweezed hair totally worth it. The wedding ceremony was perfect and I was proud to have been a part of it, and not just any part, a very essential and crucial part, so crucial the wedding couldn't have gone on without me :-P.

[caption id="attachment_206" align="aligncenter" width="510" caption="The Rebellious Make-Up"][/caption]

Now to Marcelle and Tai, thanks for the wonderful experience, thanks for bringing out the woman in me (despite the fact that it was only for a few hours). All together, it was a great experience, one that I may not want to repeat too often, but would undoubtedly cherish for now and for always.

To all of you who are thinking "This is it. This is what will change Freddy. Now she'll start making her face up to places and throw in some skirts and dresses into her wardrobe." Well ... I hate to disappoint you, but it WON'T! It will take a lot more than one pretty dress and make-up session to convert me. But I'll be happy to do it once or twice a year, only next time I'll charge for my service, simply because I put some umph into the ceremony.

Waiting for the Jump Off

Today there's going to be some serious talk. I'm tearing out a page in my diary and letting you into it. I hope you enjoy the read.

...you see, I don’t see myself as an introverted person. In fact I am extremely extroverted...when I choose to be. Yet for some reason I think I could use a little getting out there...if you get what I mean.

I usually blame it on the fact that I don’t have many outlets of expression and the few are available ones are corrupted by hiplife artists, wannabes and school dropouts. Ergo, I sit in my bed, fiddle with my MacBook Pro and strike great acquaintances with the applications on it, or I check out new gadgets on Engadget dot com and drool over the outrageous contraptions that fall from outer space unto the laps of geeks responsible for bringing us closer to the future - at least that’s what we are suppose to believe. It’s really not that big of a deal. I prefer the comfort of my company rather than being at the peril of undereducated individuals who might potentially downgrade my intelligence.

I am not the kind of person that would shy away from a crowd or be the one at the end of a bad joke. I quite enjoy intelligent banter that requires the usual interjection that we human beings employ to express their emotions. It is more often than not the exchange of pointless information. As you can see from all the evidence stated, I’m better off being by myself in my room.

Occasionally I like to experiment with the human race and see how far the art of socialising has developed over time. So I let go of my inhibitions and convince myself to engage in an outdoor event with a trusted friend. As a rule, I always enquire of the background of the other members of the party I might be unfamiliar with. The trusted friend often responds with “oh Freddy, you’re just crazy!”. But am I? I just can’t stand having "meaningful-less" conversations with people with bad grammar and/or poor sense of humour. The communication cycle simply travels a straight line downwards (at the mercy of gravity). I prefer dialogue of a more astute manner. It's just who I am. Luckily choosing the right type of friends means your friends choose the right type of friends too. The word "usually" being the operative word here.

Enough about my introverted notions about people and places. For most of my life, I believe that in some alternate reality I could become a stand up comedian. When you catch me in the zone and I’m on the roll cracking everyone up, I’m very good at it, I promise. Other times I feel that I could direct some extremely complicated stage show like a musical concert of maybe even an orchestra. But let’s just keep it simple. The thing is, I know that if I tried, I could. I see and feel myself doing and being that person, only I don’t know how I to get there - the realization of all these aspirations and conceptualisations. Trust me, there are many. There’s one little challenge I have identified - they call it "The Push".  For some reason I've been made to believe that it is someone else’s responsibility to push me into living that dream.

Imagine me sitting at the edge of the cliff waiting to be pushed off so I could fly and show off my beautiful wings. It's just silly when you think about it. See, I’m close to 30 and I’m asking myself how much longer am I going to sit at the edge waiting to be pushed off by some imaginary Good Samaritan. If I’ve managed to get to the edge of the cliff myself, I should be able to push myself off. What does it take? Just a simple slip would be good enough to push me over. I’ve been waiting for so long that I’ve made my home at the cliff and given all the rocks at the mountain edge names!

After much deliberation, I’ve come to a very simple solution. I have decided to become my very own Good Samaritan. I shall be the hand that pushes me off the cliff, the boot that propels me over. I will boldly walk off the edge, jump from my securities and fly into my insecurities (yes, I said that right), give myself up and be at the mercy of the wind’s gravity (assuming there’s any such thing), set these wings out to dry and feel fly, be with the birds and see things from their standpoint viewpoint.

For me, I guess the whole point is to rise up above the limitations and the fears and the worries and the hold-ups and just see that there’s so much more ahead. Sure a lot of water has gone under the bridge of life and age, and a lot more will go under, but instead of dwelling on that, perhaps we should look for the waterfall or the spring from whence the water cometh, instead of following the trail of used up water.

So the next time you see me on the street and I have gusto to my gait and a pep to my step, please know that I’ve flown off the edge and I’m turning every moment of my life into a great moment to enjoy. I’m tired of waiting around for someone to kickstart me, I’m kicking myself in the butt and getting out there, taking the territories, jumping the bungees, shaking down mountains, robbing the banks (did I just say that?), whatever, daring to be greater and bigger than I imagine in my dreams. Hoping that by the time I’m 50, I would have crossed at least 100 items off my bucket list.

Watch out people, here comes the next world wonder!!!

Here’s my advice to anyone waiting for a jolt of lightning to do something with themselves, I’ll tell you this now; You are wasting your time. It’s your life, you are the one responsible for living it and nobody else. Mr. Innocent Bystander cannot determine the amount of energy you require for the jump off; nor can he predict what time of the day you need that bolt to run through your system, so you might as well create your own gust of wind and fly off the edge. I’m just saying...

CELEBRI-TREES

So the other day I was talking with my mum (my number 1 inspiration) about Ghana and our so-called celebrities.  We came to the obvious, yet painful conclusion that besides team members of the Black Stars, no one else comes under the celebrity status tag in Ghana.

Think about it, where do Ghanaian celebrities hang out? Where do they go to eat? Where do they shop? Where to the live? Do we have a community that's the preserve of our stars. Say, Trassaco Valley? Wouldn't that be an awesome place for all the hiplife artists? Naa man, even the producers/promoters are all “straiggling”. In Ghana, most artists live in the studios of their producers. Not because they are waiting for a sudden and an unplanned outburst of creativity in the middle of the night, it's simply because they have no where else to be. They only come out during events and shows and try to pretend to be all starry, when we know that they are merely shattered pieces glass that glisten in the sun’s rays. Were we to do the Ghanaian version of MTV Cribs for our stars, excluding our Black Stars, we may not have enough worthy enough homes for 10 episodes.

[caption id="attachment_171" align="aligncenter" width="360" caption="These are some of our "Stars" "][/caption]

One might ask, what about our movie stars? Surely they must have it good, seeing as they act endlessly in 10-part movies. They should be able to afford half a million dollar homes and more. Nay, I tell ya, a big NAY! They are probably the worst of them all. Who is Nadia Buari? Who is Jackie Appiah or Van Vicker? I can assure you that it'll take them twelve lifetimes to reach the star status of Angelina Jolie, Julia Roberts or Denzel Washington. Make-up artists and stage prompters in Hollywood make better money per movie than our highest ranked stars. So don't you go "kyere-ing" your skin on me and telling me that you are a star. Chances are that I make more money than you, I live in a better house and I most likely eat better.  If I go to Aunty Muni, I can bet my last pesewa that I can see at least 3 stars coming in to buy waakye or even sitting down to eat on the benches like the rest of us. Not because they want to mingle with the common folk, it is because they are just a common a folk like every other common folk!

I’ve seen models, tv and radio presenters there on countless occasions. It’s the truth guys. What’s in a star if you’re wherever the common man is? Like the stars up above, there are only 2 ways to get to them; 1. I must become one of them. 2. I must have enough money to go into space and then perhaps I can be within 100 feet or more from one.

So my advice to them, is that until they can pay for the latest Lambourgini in cash, or live in a million dollar home, they should all get off their high horses and get their heads seriously in the game. Until Ghanaians find the need to create a celebrity inspired shopping arcade, or a celebrity inspired hair salon, where it cost $100 and over for a hair cut/do; until there’s a restaurant so pricey that each meal could pay for your rent; until we get paparazzi who follow our camouflaged stars from place to place, then please forget it.

I’m sure Essien and his buddies don’t feel that buzz that comes along with being a celebrity the moment they step through Kotoka International. Ghana has a way of stripping you off your star status. Tell me, which of our stars would you die to have an autograph of? Which of them would you step out in the rain to catch a glimpse of?

Most of the faces on our TVs sit with us in trotros, drive decade old cars and shop from Gap like the rest of us. If Rihanna were to step in one of Accra’s clubs right now, you’ll see the crowd around her. If MzBel stepped right next door in Togo or Burkina Faso, they’ll only take note of her ‘cos she might not be wearing the traditional outfit of the Burkinabes. Apart from that, she’s as common a person as the dirt in the sand to them. While I'm on that topic, please, and I really mean it, please, let's refrain from referring to Ghanaian songstresses as DIVAs.

Definition of DIVA

n., pl., -vas, or -ve (-vā).

1. An operatic prima donna.


2. A very successful singer of nonoperatic music: a jazz diva)

Examples are Anastacia, Whoopi Goldberg, Beyonce, Mary J. Blige, Toni Braxton, Sarah Brightman, Mariah Carey, Belinda Carlisle, Cher, Natalie Cole, Deborah Cox, Céline Dion, Judy Garland, Kathryn Grayson, Kathy Griffin, Deborah Harry, Billie Holiday, Gloria Estefan, Lena Horne, Whitney Houston, Chaka Khan, Gladys Knight, Jennifer Lopez, Patti LuPone, Madonna, Liza Minnelli, Kylie Minogue, Dolly Parton, Diana Ross, Dalida, Donna Summer, Tina Turner, Vanessa Williams, TAFKA Ally and a few others.

[caption id="attachment_169" align="aligncenter" width="400" caption="Patti Labelle, a true diva"][/caption]

According to the above stated definition, the only Ghanaian songstress I know who comes close to Diva is Bibie Brew. I think people like Patti Labelle, Anita Baker, Barbara Streissand, Aaliyah, would have a fit if you put them in the same category as MzBel and Mimi. I'll leave it there for now.

Off the cuff, name any Ghanaian who can step into almost any country and perform in front of a teeming crowd. And I'm not talking about the Ghanaian community in that country.

If you think you are a star and walk around in Ghana acting all star-like, remember that you're simply a well-known, under paid entertainer. Take this from me, if you walk around with a chip on your shoulder because people see you and recognize you, clip off those wings. The journey to a fully fledged entertainment industry is one of a million miles. And we are barely 5 steps into it. I don't care what anyone says, until our artistes wear $20,000 outfits per performance and not repeat Accra shada at shows in Kumasi or Takoradi I still maintain that there are no stars in Ghana, only entertainers. M'aka m'aka!

Ras Winnie

Today, I had a very interesting moment in traffic. It had to do with my hair.

Ever since I started wearing my hair natural, I've had several comments from people: friends and foe alike. For those of you who know me, I have dreads not for any religious reasons or beliefs but simply for the fact that that was the only way I could wear my hair natural without having to wrestle with a hair dryer.

I'm not rastafarian, although my rastafarian friends believe that I possess some "root" characteristics.

Very often I'd have what I term "the nod" from my rastafarian brethren. Some even attempt to speak Patois with me. They only realize halfway that I'm absolutely clueless and then decide to switch to a more comprehensible language. Rastafarians intrigue me. The way they walk, dress, talk. It's the pounded fist greeting (thats the  right hand out streched in salute style only it goes to the heart instead of the side of the head), which I personally think is very hygienic; or the thumping of the chest; perhaps its just that they call their women Empress. Whatever it is, I just think that true Rastas are cool. Just the way they are fascinates me and I don't mind them thinking that I'm worthy of their association/company.

[caption id="attachment_164" align="aligncenter" width="350" caption="i-Man"][/caption]

Because I don't wear make up and sometimes prefer to wear native sandals when I'm out, I usually get mistaken for a Rasta Woman. Most people who don't know me well describe me as the Rasta Woman and that's ok by me. Quite a few of my friends call me Ras Winnie anyways. Frankly over the past 7 years of having dreads, my hair has had more attention than myself. When I started, people would look at my hair rather than my face when they were talking to me. It annoyed me, but soon enough, it became a great icebreaker for many a wholesome conversation. And now, I don't mind the attention.

This afternoon's incident was one of such Ras-moments on the streets of Osu. I was driving towards the stadium and as I cracked my knuckles (a very bad habit) on the steering wheel I accidentally honked my horn, attracting the attention of a rastaman who sold electronics along the Kingdom Books Stationery road. They guy quickly looked up and waved at me. Then he walked up to the car and motioned me to roll down the window and gives me a very big smile. Then the smile goes down just as suddenly as the it came up. He had mistaken me for someone else. Just as he was apologizing for the mishap, he looked at my hair and asked if my hair was "a natural dread" as he put it. I said yes, then the smile got wider. Then the traffic signals hit green so I had to move. Lucky for him, the signal turned red just before I could cross. I looked in my rear view mirror and there was Ras-(I forgot his name) running after the car.

He stopped by the car and asked my name. I said "Yaa" and then he beams through the knotted beard and says "Empress Yaa". That just made my day! I laughed and immediately, he switched to Patois mode. In my head, I'm like "dude, I don't get a word of what you saying"; but on my face, I had a smile. I mumbled something in response and just then the lights turned green for go. He pounded his heart with his fist, smiled under the hot Osu sun and waved goodbye to his newly found Empress...or something like that. It's difficult to make up a fairy tale that involves two rastafarians in the middle of the scorching sun in Osu.

That I believe was the highlight of my day. Yours maybe the coconut seller or even the guy who sells rat poison. Whatever the case, we all have things that intrigue us and things that makes us smile. All I want to say is that, let's enjoy those moments as best as we can. That might just be the highlight of their day too.

One love, peace and Jah Bless.

The Truth About Taxis II !!!

So I’m back, as promised, with my next post on the Truth About Taxis titled ... guess ... guess again ... The Truth About Taxis II!!!

I know, I know, riveting. I can’t wait to see what I write and how you feel after you read it. Just so you know, this has taken years of observation and decades of research; so please, by all means try this at home, or on the street, whichever you prefer.

Now, almost everyone has sat in a taxi or at least seen a taxi either on the street or parked under a tree somewhere. But before I go on, I would like you all to note that this isn't a lecture and this paper is not examinable. I’m simply to share the wisdom that comes ever so freely to me. As such, take this just as a few pointers to keep in mind when dealing with taxis: whether it is taking one or driving around one.

Point One - Always be ready to bargain. When you stop a taxi, describe your destination as well as you can, as fast as you can. This confuses the driver, if he’s wise, he’ll ask you again and then you would have to take it slowly. Thankfully, most taxi drivers will not be smart enough to know what game you are up to. So chances are, they’ll say they know and then quote a ridiculously high price, which you should drop down by at least ¢3. When they refuse, tell them that it is OK and that you’ll wait for another taxi. Step away from the vehicle and proceed to look towards oncoming traffic for another taxi. If you are lucky, he’ll signal you with his hand, flapping it gently towards himself gently, indicating you to hop in.

CAUTION: don’t look too excited by your victory, remain cool and sit in the car. If he drives away, try the same procedure with the next taxi. There’s a 90% chance of you getting away with this.


Point Two - If you have an accent lose it! Be as "local" as possible. Anything that might give you away as sounding, looking or being foreign has to go! If by any chance you are with an “obroni”/”oyibo”, it is best to keep them out of sight until you have bargained with the taxi driver on the fare he wishes to charge you. The slightest hint of “foreign-ticity” will result in a 100% increase in fare charges.

Point Three - Never hire a taxi that’s parked at a taxi rank. Most station based taxi drivers like to argue a lot and are generally “too-known”. They also charge at least 50% more than the usual fare.

Point Four (very important point) - If you have to go to a traffic prone area in a taxi, before you bargain with the taxi driver for a good fare, be emphatic that at that time of the day there’s no traffic. Proceed to indicate what times of the day and for what reasons traffic builds up in those places. Assure him that there will be no traffic at that time and pray that it is as you say. However, when you do meet a traffic jam, act surprised and start looking at your watch every second. Then tell the driver that you are absolutely shocked that there is so much traffic here. Talk endlessly about how it is impossible to predict traffic situations lately and how the government must construct more roads. You can also divert his attention to a policeman standing close by (assuming there is a policeman close by) and say how sad it is that they extort so much money from poor taxi drivers.

A suitable alternative is to talk about politics and how we need a president who will make the lives of every one better by reducing fuel prices. The purpose of this is to endear pity and to make him know that you are suffering in life just as much as he is even if you. He’ll forgive you and forget all about the traffic jam you’ve put him. In effect, sympathize with him. But be careful of those “experienced and hardened drivers” who know all these tricks. With them you may have to make a phone call to a close friend or relative and talk about the pressures of work over the phone. Darn if you don’t have credit on your phone that day!

Point Five - Never take a Tico if you have to go someplace important. Arriving in a Tico strips you of your status. Ticos are not the best choice if you want to make a good impression on people. For some reason, even the newest Tico taxi looks cheap, and as a result, charge cheaper than other taxis. Research into the Tico phenomenon is still ongoing. One thing I know however is that they are the preferred choice in the mountainous regions.

Point Six - Never stop a taxi that’s driving in the opposite direction from where you want to go. More often than not, the taxi drivers will charge you about 40% more than those going in the direction you are headed. I suppose the surcharge comes from turning the vehicle around.

Point Seven - If you are driving behind an empty taxi, chances are that you’ll be driving at no more than 30kmph. Reason is, they are on the look out for passengers and every pedestrian along the road way will receive a hoot and a honk.

Point Eight - For no apparent reason, a taxi driver will take out a duster and wipe his dashboard. Other times, he might simply buy sachet water from the nearest vendor and use it to wipe his windscreen. Don’t ask the obvious question that comes to your mind.




Point Nine - At night be prepared to be blinded by the highlights of the taxi driver. Several Taxi drivers have not firmly grasped the concept of when and how to use their highlights.

Point Ten - Make a taxi driver friend. It is as handy as a hammer in a toolbox. You’ll know when you get there.

There you have it, Ten (10) Truths about Taxis. This should keep you occupied for a while. Below, I have put together a 5 general tips for the inexperienced driver in town.

1. Never drive behind or on the side of a cargo truck. You never know when their brakes will fail or the cargo their carrying will decide to tip over.


2. Before you decide to jump a red light, look left, look right and look before you for any amber clothed individual. There just might be some “baby/zoom lion police” waiting to hop into your car and take your last penny.


3. Watch out for young ladies in posh cars, their driving skills are generally worse than taxi drivers.


4. For reasons I can’t explain on this here blog, just don’t drive at Circle or Kaneshie if you’ve been driving for less than 6 months!


5. Expect to be cut-off by reckless drivers on the road trying to change to the faster lanes. You’ll be lucky to have a wave of the hand or a flash of the hazard light as a way of asking for forgiveness. If you honk your horn at them, you’ll get more than a wave. One of these days, I will dedicate a blog post to the illustrate road-hand-signs they don’t teach you in driving school.

While you guys chew on this, I shall be patiently waiting for the day that we will ride limo-cabs in Ghana and have suited-up chauffeurs for drivers.

THE TRUTH ABOUT TAXIS I

Does anyone know how taxis came to be? And why they are called taxis in the first place? Do we know why they chose to identify taxis with those multicoloured patches instead of going for a monotone? Why do we wait until cars are completely run down before we convert them into taxis and why do they have all these “poetic”, often misspelled and misunderstood writings on them? All these we may never know. However, there are a few things that we do know about taxis and I am here to share them with you.

Let’s start with the word “Taxi” itself: what does it mean? I’ve done some research and it turns out that the word taxi is short for taxicab, which in itself is a contraction of “taximeter cabriolet”. (Cabriolet is a type of a horse-drawn carriage). The word, as the brilliant ones amongst you may have figured out already, is originally French. But I won’t bore you anymore with the etymology of the word taxi.

[caption id="attachment_153" align="aligncenter" width="495" caption="New York Taxi"][/caption]

The use of taxis started way back in Rome, in the 1800s. Then it moved into the US, Canada and it trickled to downtown Ghana, Africa. And that’s where the story gets interesting.

By the way, did you know that the colour yellow is the colour most easily seen from a distance? So says Wikipedia.

Let’s come to Ghana where taxis are coloured in combinations of blue+yellow+black or orange+brown+green and several other intriguing combinations. Besides the colour codes they come in, there is a lot to learn about them.

Take for instance the writings on them. The other day I drove past a parked taxi, which proclaimed in bold lettering; “GOD IS MY SEATBELT”. Frankly, that statement left me dazed for a minute, maybe two. Did it mean that because God was his seatbelt, he wasn’t going to wear any; or was that statement to day that whether or not he wore a seatbelt God would keep him safe from any accidents? What about your passengers? Is God their seatbelt too? There are many ways you can debate on this statement. I could write a whole thesis on this. Trust me. Does anyone know whether these “taxi quotes” are the mantras of the car owners or the philosophies by which taxi drivers live? Imagine being crossed by a taxi with the quote “NO HURRY IN LIFE” written across it. Yeah, I know.

[caption id="attachment_156" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="taxi"][/caption]

There’s a certain culture with taxi drivers.  They spend almost all their time on the road that they believe they live on the road corridor and as such everyone else must bow in their presence and give them way. You know what I mean: zigzagging across lanes, stopping abruptly to pick up passengers, slowing down at junctions to peering down to sight potential passengers…the list could go on.

I sat in a taxi the other day and the driver went no more than 50kmph the whole time. I promise! So I asked him in Twi, “can’t your car go any faster? He replied, saying that if he went any faster, he would burn more fuel. Like hell you will. With that reply, I couldn’t ask any further questions. I didn’t want his car to jerk itself to a stop in the middle of the journey and be stranded along the side of the road.  So I sat in there quietly like a good girl until I got to my destination 20 minutes late for my appointment.



When it comes to taxi traffic talk (language), taxi drivers have a complete set of unique gestures; there’s one for when you don’t give them the chance to cut in front of you in a logjam; there’s one for when you honk at them to drive faster (this is when they are on the prowl for passengers); there’s another one for when they meet a fellow taxi driver; there are also a few gestures that you would rather not have them make at you. I have no doubt that you get this often. They cross you in traffic unexpectedly and when you honk your horn at them, they simply throw their hand out of the window as though you were a fly they were trying to swat. It is, if nothing at all, the most annoying hand movement in traffic.

I pray, I sincerely do pray that the next time a taxi driver throws out his hand out his window after a display of ignorance of traffic rules, oh I pray, that his hand gets chopped off! I’m serious.

The gesture is slightly different with most private car drivers. They simply wave at you as though that is enough to have prevented a near accident.

I will be back with my next post with some more info on a few things to note when dealing with taxis; either as a driver or passenger in a taxi.

RATIONING EMOTIONS

People see emotions as a renewable resource. Mine isn’t. As such I ration my emotions as much as possible. I need to be able to put a stopper to unusual happiness, unscheduled shocks and inconsequential tear shedding. The older I grow, the more I find the need to be able to master my emotions. And the best way to do so, according to my theory, albeit twisted, is to consider your emotions as non-renewable. Like a depleting forest, or the thinning grass or a receeding hair-line, electricity from ECG, water in our pipeline etc. emotions have to be properly allocated. Like fuel in a taxi driver's tank, sometimes I put my emotions in free gear; the only direction is forward. It means that for a period of time, no matter what emotional obstacle I meet, I’m going to respond with the same expression as I had before that period. Allow me to explain.

[caption id="attachment_146" align="aligncenter" width="300" caption="from left to right: Jack of Diamonds, Queen of Spades, Kings of Heart and Ace of Spades"][/caption]

Picture your emotions as a deck of cards. See the Ace of each suit as the highest attainable emotion you could ever achieve – ecstacy, extreme depression, raging anger, uncontrollable joy. The Kings, are reserved for close friends and family, Queen for people you respect i.e your boss, or superior at work; the Jack for your peers and the remaining ones for a few fake moments when you are required to show some form of emotion that doesn’t come naturally. Now you don’t want to run out of emotions before the end of play. It’ll be like pulling out a Joker when you really need a Queen of emotion at that moment. Jokers are used for any of those awkward moments when you’re not sure whether to weep, laugh, or sing for joy. They are very tricky cards to pull and as such can only be used effectively by the very sophisticated or advanced user. The remaining numbered cards are for things like admiration, confusion, dismay and any of those 3^rd grade emotions that don’t require too much energy.

Or you can decide to tag each emotion with a specific suit. Spades for unhappy moments such as anger, frustration, fear, depression, disappointment. Hearts for all happy moments like joy, peace of mind, victory and perhaps love. The suit of Clubs could represent revenge and the Diamond suit could stand for anything to do with money. I will explain this into further details in my book.

I don’t get it when most girls waste tears on needless things like a broken artificial nail; or when guys expend so much energy watching a game of football or soccer. I find it very nonsensical. There are better things to spend your emotions on. So take this as a note of caution: Next time you are tempted to expend your emotions irrationally, remember this post and use it wisely!