The Inbetweeners

I have an idea. It's new, at least to me, so I haven't had the time to work out the kinks. But here it is:  If capitalism, inevitably, alienates its workers from themselves, their labour and each other, its antidote is something that draws people closer together. Something that creates, fosters and deepens the bonds we share.  Therefore, what if culture , is the antidote to capitalism?  From here, allow me to present my thoughts in bullet points: Oxford defines 'culture' as "the beliefs that people hold about reality, the norms that guide their behaviour, the values that orient their moral commitments, or the symbols through which these beliefs, norms, and values are communicated." Inherent to this definition is that culture is a shared activity/practice; developed communally and practised collaboratively. This suggests that culture can be, and often is, a binding agent. Even capitalism, if construed as a cultural system, binds humanity together in service to ...

 and I have thoughts... In the moment, I enjoyed the new Ant-Man and the Wasp Movie. It was visually engaging, hilarious and had some cool action scenes. I, particularly, enjoyed the call-back to Ant-Man's line in Civil War and how the film depicted Scott's growing competency as the Ant-Man. I loved the fact that Scotts' journey mirrored Janet's in the quantum realm; both of them chose to save the world at the cost of their families. Put simply, the movie was fun. An interesting juxtaposition to the grief reflected in Wakanda Forever (the last MCU movie of 2022 and Phase 4) that suggested Phase 5 would be different. As a result, I entered the post-credit scenes feeling good about Phase 5 of the MCU and where it was going. I felt vindicated in my willingness to give Marvel the benefit of the doubt as they establish the next 'big-bad' and build the new team of Avengers. But as soon as I left the theatre, two things happened: (1) I began to engage with the movie an...

A couple of weeks ago, I learned about Cargo Movements (aka cargo cults) and I couldn't help but wonder, is Africa in a cargo cult? The term ‘cargo cult’ or ‘movement’ is a term given to a number of religious or political movements that started when indigenous peoples came into contact with Western civilisation and the technology, they brought with them. Items like radios, aeroplanes, ready-made and abundant food etc. These items were called cargo, hence cargo cult or movement. These indigenous groups then attempt to get these goods by replicating the rituals that caused the cargo to land on their soil; building plane towers and runways, and signalling with radio and military marches.  This act of replication is what makes them incredibly fascinating, from the outside looking in. It reminds me of a child playing 'grown-up' - in as much as I know better than to infantilise indigenous communities. Or perhaps, more appropriately, it reminds me of the dynamics of cultural appro...

I began writing this post as a way to kill time; roughly an hour before my next meeting. And I wish I could say that, by this sentence, I was struck by divine revelation. That, by now, I would have plucked a topic out of my tortured mind, the same way American "enhanced interrogators" provide free dental care. But, alas. The mind is blank, and so is this page.  To be honest, I'm not sure which I'm more frustrated at; that I have nothing to say? Or that, because  I have nothing to say, I have only been able to kill a mere 2 minutes of my 60 min downtime. I would argue the latter, given my thoughts on performative productivity and the feeling that laziness is to be dismissed. But, I believe it's the former. I have nothing to say, not because my mind is blank, but because it is too full. I can't pick a single thing to focus on and those that speak to me are far too personal for this medium.  So here I am. Staring at a blank page. Praying that words will fall upon...

I’ve been journaling, in an attempt to respond to my emotions, not merely react to them, and yesterday something weird happened. As I wrote down my prompt for the week - What do you love most about yourself? - I felt anxiety trickle down my spine. I didn’t understand why seven words could trigger fear and apprehension. But as I began to reflect on the question, my response justified itself. I could not think of a single thing I loved about myself. And in my silence, the question stared back at me in silent condemnation and, perhaps more unnervingly, gentle concern.  How could I, a 26-year-old, not know what I love most about myself?  Why could I only cite traits, memories and ambitions that my friends and loved ones loved about me?  Have I really spent that long shitting on myself, that I survive on external validation?  Good GOD, what would happen if that validation were to vanish? If I were to live life in a way those around me deemed unworthy, risky or, otherwise,...

 So I have a dirty little secret; I read Harlequinn Romance novels.  It started when I was 16 and, literally, stumbled upon them in the supermarket. 10 years later, I can hardly say that I stumble upon them anymore. I actively seek them out, looking for a variety of romance novels with different protagonists, inciting incidents (beyond the usual Pregnancy, forced Marriage Contract, Arranged Marriage as part of a Business Merger or classic Revenge), and premises. My favourite, so far, has been After the Billionaire's Wedding Vows by Lucy Monroe where Monroe explores what happens after love, marriage and the baby carriage. But I always wondered why I was drawn to these kinds of novels. Is it because the storytelling is formulaic; hitting the same narrative beats every time? This consistency is why I like, and obsessively rewatch, sitcoms. The formulaic structure of a sitcom allows me to dip in and out of the story while still knowing what's going on overall. Likewise, the formu...

In an attempt to justify, and perhaps excuse, the next 24 hours of non-productivity, I have decided to write a post. Almost in a stream-of-consciousness way. But instead of examining why I feel the need to earn relaxation, today I'm not entirely sure what I want to talk about. I could talk about pride, and how it holds us back. Pride makes us unwilling to ask for help, or admit mistakes. But, I don't want to.  I could talk about how we are the enemies of our own progress.  At some point in the last couple of days, I realised I am not the child I was. As a child, I was fearless. Not because I didn't understand failure, or hurt or pain. But because I decided life was worth living in spite of them. Yet, at some point, I lost this understanding of life and became a coward. At some point, I let someone tell me that life isn't worth the pain. Or perhaps that pain isn't worth life. And the result is present-day me: a woman who will never have it all because she is too ter...