Writers block 

“Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self” Cyril Connelly

Reasons why I write:

  1. As a form of escapism – I write mainly to escape my troubles and woes; I find that when I’m in pain or feeling low; my writing is at its best. Sounds tragic, but sometimes the best works in art comes from channeling some sort of pain. When I pick up a pen I know that magic will happen. I will be whisked away to a far away land where my problems and anxiety will not follow. Yes, they shape what I write at times, but with my pen at my side I become invincible. I am untouchable. My sidekick and I understand each other like Siamese twins joined at the heart.  Writing enables me to go anywhere I want, I can do anything, nothing is impossible. I can shine!
  1. To vent – This goes hand in hand with number one – most of the time I use my writing to vent, I take out all my frustrations on the page until the pen bleeds. It allows me to say the things I wouldn’t dare say out loud for fear of rebuttal or reprisal. I can unleash my wrath for all to see disguised in literary prose and colourful language. It comforts me by giving me a much needed outlet for release. Writing is my opium! My Redbull – giving me wings to soar high above the sky. Why get high when I can pick my pen and fly?
  1. To create – When I look back at some of the pieces that I have written I am in awe. In awe, because I cannot believe that I wrote it – my thoughts and feelings are there in living colour. However insignificant some of my past stories may seem to some, to me they are works of art. I may not be Stephen King or Carol Ann Duffy but you know what, I don’t care. I am a creator; my masterpieces are there for all to see. If you buy it, cool, if not then that’s cool too, they still exist – hanging over my mantelpiece.
  1. Love – I love to write it’s as simple as that. My pen and I are one. To separate one from the other would be catastrophic. Writing lives in me and I live for it. It’s a hobby, my passion, my love.  


*old post taken from my now defunct old blog*

Working 9-5, what a way to make a living!

Everyday between Monday – Friday, my alarm bell screams out rousing me from my sleep, shocking my system into overdrive. I feel a wave of dread overwhelm me as my 9-5 beckons me with open arms. The monster.co.uk ad swiftly begins playing in my head ‘you hate Mondays because you hate your job, and I involuntary shake my head. No! I hate Mondays because I hate jobs. Period.

The daily working grind is not for me. I shudder thinking about sitting behind a desk all day, everyday, working my arse off for someone else to reap the profits of my labour. All the while I get given measly crumbs to tide me over each month and time off for good behaviour by way of annual leave.

The 9-5 life is just so absurd. It baffles me that this is what I have been working so hard to attain for since beginning education. We go from institutions to institutions all to end up in a shiny prison cell. Then we get sucked into the mortgage trap which keeps us shackled to our corporate jail, as leaving means bills go unpaid and life in this capitalist society becomes x10 harder to manage. This cannot be my portion for the next 40 odd years or so. I refuse to carry out this sentencing. Working a 9-5 cannot be the sum of the human experience.

I think  that what I struggle the most with, is the fact that we can’t ever escape paying taxes and bills. The system sets a deadly trap for us that keeps us rooted to the spot and all we can try and do is make a better situation for whatever position we find ourselves in. I’m not ashamed to say that i’m struggling with working 9-5 just to stay alive! word to Beyonce.

I mean we can become our own bosses but that also has its pitfalls. Being a boss isn’t for everyone, or else we would all do it and besides not everyone has equal access to  resources in order to pursue their own thing. The system is built unfairly and there always has to be a top dog. I wish this staus quo could be revamped but alas, life is not fair.

However, personally working for some entity is no longer a viable option for me. I need to own something for myself. I want to dictate my own terms and conditions. I want to be in charge of me. I want to be my own BOSS!

As 2017 looms across the horizon, a new dawn comes calling. Time to set new goals and objectives and dissolving my marriage to my 9-5 is definitely at the top of my wish list.


Working in the City : Redundancy


The dreaded ‘R’ word was thrust upon me a few weeks ago and my world caved in. Fresh from my holiday in Ghana, I walked into the office feeling revitalised and ready to start the working cycle again.

Imagine my complete surprise when I was taken aside and told that my job was at risk of being made redundant.

I never saw it coming!

I knew that redundancies were occurring as I got word whilst on holiday that some of my close peers were being given the boot, but not once did it actually cross my mind that I would be on the chopping block.

My mind started to drown with all the thoughts running through it. My number one concern was how I was going to pay my rent and bills. I mean, I just got back from holiday. I had spent well.

I was distraught.

When I thought of redundancy, I always thought of middle aged colleagues packing the desk away, being escorted out of the building or simply agreeing to take voluntary redundancy. I never thought someone in their late twenties in their 3rd proper professional job would be one of the casualties.

I got told not to take the news personally – they were not trying to get rid of me just the role. But, how could I not take it personally, when ‘I’ was the role?

Colleagues kept trying to pacify me by saying that they (management) really wanted to keep me and that they were sad that I was put in this position but all this did was incense me further. They had put me in this position!

At this point I didn’t really care about their feelings. If they had wanted to keep me, then my role should not have been thrown into the pool.

I understood that business decisions had to be made. I understood that as employees we are in essence, disposable. But what I didn’t understand was the justification behind my role no longer being required. This is what hurt the most.

Over the coming days and weeks, I saw colleagues get the chop and leave without an official goodbye. We were being led like lambs to the slaughter.

However, I decided to safeguard myself financially by applying for the suitable alternative job role that the company had coming up. They dangled the carrot and I took it. I didn’t want it. But I had no choice. I needed a job.

I got it!

Damn, I was stuck.

I should have been happy. I still had a job – albeit a different one, but a job nonetheless. I wasn’t though.

I had to get out. I felt trapped and confused, what would be my next move?

They say when one door closes another one opens.

I threw myself vigorously into applying for another role.

There had to be a greater reason as to why this redundancy came about. Maybe this was the push I needed to leave the company and grow professionally.

I applied and secured some interviews. I went. I conquered. I got it.

Better pay, better benefits, better career prospectus.

Maybe things really do happen for a reason.