From Disney to Hollywood

After careful thinking the autor has decided to give this post a special warning rating of WG, women and only men accompanied by women are able to view the post, as some material might not be suited for them. Some of the material may be seen as offensive to a particular gender and careful explanation of the finer points are needed. The autor has decided in this case, she is not able to delve further into these points for the specifc reason in wanting to retain her sanity.

This post is nothing more than a rant, not a mindless rant mind you. A rant, not specifically aimed at men, or Hollywood, but more pertinent to the importance of outside influences and the way in which they have shaped my current mindset in relation to this topic.

Plus it is early sunday morning and I can't sleep.

I have been an embittered woman for a while now. It didn't happen overnight, I can now tell that the signs were there for a while but it took some time for me to figure it out with the help of some excellent uncredited script writers, a mighty good casting agent, and mostly thanks to Mr. Smith himself. The character Hitch to my detriment managed to raise my expectations of men from here *gestures a point near to her feet* to up here *indicates a point to just above her doorway*.

Disney used to dictate what I looked for in my fella; a young handsome man of few words, fair amount of dough, a good ride, does what he has to do without any prompting from me (glass slipper and all that). That ideal worked for me just fine the past decade just fine, no complex mind games, inner dilemma's and wishful thinking to deal with. Now in my old age, Hollywood has me thinking that somewhere gathered in secluded schools/flocks/herds whatever you want to call it, there are these men. These men dress sharp, are great conversationalists, intellectually engaging, posses superhuman wit, know when to back off, and are mad hot!

Its all very strange how it turned out to be this way. I am a self confessed movie freak, will watch almost anything as long as it isn't a period drama (seriously what is the point of watching the latest Hollywood starlet/ temptress acting coy, wearing stupendous wigs at a less than adequate attempt in being credible all the while engaging in illicit affairs with her male counterpart in between costume changes.)

I am more averse to watching films with substance, that are engaging and force you to think from beginning to end rather than switch off and scoff an entire McD's super sized meal in the first ten minutes. Nevertheless I WANTED to see this film, Will Smith was in it, need I say more.

I wanted to explain how Hitch got his first date with Sarah. For some reason I just couldn't do it. I don't know whether it was due to the sheer emotion experienced when faced with the prospect of having to recount those two magical scenes. Lets just say it involved some good conversation, couple of probing questions, great observation, a courier, and a couple of walkie talkies...


Why don't guys do that in real life?!?!?!? Well maybe they do, maybe I just don't know about this, maybe I attract the lazy sort, or maybe Somali ones just don't like to go through all of that trouble. I will bet my left foot that it definitely is not for lack inventiveness. We know that Somaalida waxa loo yaqaana in ee cayda and bassaboorka u qaataan by the most remarkably dubious and inventive means known to man! So what could it be? I was discussing this with a good friend of mine the other day, just ruminating, and after a while we were none the wiser and we decided to go with her idea a man would size up a woman, and then decide how much trouble they should go through to get what they wanted.

It leaves me thinking how disappointing this whole situation is. Tired chat up lines, nothing sincere leaves their mouth from the moment they decide that you were to become their latest victim.
Some are so abysmal that you are left to wonder how they even managed to mobilise from where they were standing to were you unfortunately were situated, their conversation/babble suggesting that their level of brain function would not even allow them to complete a task so arduous as to walk in a straight line!

The other day working in the recovery area, one of my favourite radiologists (not) decided that he wanted to place bilateral ureteric stents, do a chest and a liver biopsy and perform a uterine artery embolisation all before 4pm, and it was lunchtime. So here I am running around headless chicken style trying to find a radiographer, equipment and able bodied porters who'd fetch me some patients, where from I didn't care, carol singers in the street would have done. Oblivious to my surroundings whilst running past the main X-ray waiting room a gazillion times I have this feeling of eyes burning into my back. Knowing I work in Woolwich and at any time there are about ten dozen Somalis roaming the corridors of the hospital I think nothing of it. When I manage to rope in one of my colleagues to help me find some guide wires, I see this young Somali bloke and a relative. (I guessed dad but it turned out to be a snazzy dressed grandad, Diddy didn't have anything on this awoowe) A while later I left my colleagues chattering amongst themselves and walked over to the porters' station. On my way back the young man who was by now by himself stopped me and said.

"Listen walaal, you work here innit, I mean I seen you walking around and that, you're busy" I stopped him in mid sentence and said, "Asalaamu Alaykum, you know it ain't very nice to stare, it's awkward for me, a bit rude on your part and bewildering to my colleagues instead do the gracious thing and just say hello"

He laughed and said "Yeah sorry walaal, you're right, I'm just so annoyed, I mean I've been waiting here for like an hour and a half for an X-ray and other people keep going in first before me."

I quickly replied seeing where this was going, "I'm sorry man, I can't help you with that I don't work in X-ray"

"Yeah I know, but "

Changing the topic I asked why he was there. Apparently he had sustained a football injury and had come to get his knee X-rayed.
"You know what" I started feeling an angry rant come on "Well, this is the NHS, you're not paying for this X-ray are you?"
"No..." "Well then, don't expect too much, plus they don't send people for X-rays nilly willy, and as you've been here for that long, its shouldn't be much longer now, just take a seat and wait , OK? "
At this point slick grandpa came over, wagging his blinging watch in his grandson's face he yelled "Waryaa, toban minidh kale ayaan ku sugaya markaasna waa tagaya, waan raage ileen!"
The young man replied "Awoowo, isug de, wax badan imii hadhin, imka ayaan soo baxaya!"

Trying to keep my laughter suppressed I watched grandad stalk off swagger and all, turning my attention to his grandson I continued, "you brought this on yourself you see, that's why they're making you wait longer that the confused elderly ladies with fractured hips and young kids in car accidents".

Admitting defeat he decided to change tack. "You've got an older brother haven't you? His name is Abdi and he plays basketball, round from your ends"
Caught off guard by this sudden change of topic I said "What, who? I haven't got any brothers." The young man replied "are you sure? He's very tall, same skin tone like you and he looks a bit like you as well."
Hmmm, now I think about it, a tall Somali guy possibly called Abdi, looks strangely similar to me always clutching what looks like a basketball has been loitering about for the past 20 odd years, Yeah!....
"No walaal, I'm sure that none of my sisters are called Abdi and plays basketball..."
A dopey smile formed on his face, at this point I decided to cut the conversation short and told him to take a seat, rest his knee and have a bit of patience whilst edging backwards slowly, hoping he's taken the hint....

He decided to go in for the kill at this point realising his grip was loosening on his prey.
"Numbarkaaga isii walaal!"
Incredulously I say "Yaaaa?" wondering how we had gone from waiting times, his knees, my non existent brother to my mobile number.
"Come on walaal don't be like that isii numbarkaaga."
"Maya, walaal" I reply, "numbarkayga dadka ma siiyo."
"Oo waayo, walahi I'm not a bad person you know"
"I didn't say you were, but thanks for letting me know, its reassuring"
"Come on then! Maxaad sugaysa"
A flash of silver was being bounced from one hand to another, screen all lit up.
"No, walaal I'm being serious now, and my colleagues are looking I really have to go"
My colleagues were not only looking but also dramatically recreating what looked like a scene from Titanic.
"Oh! I get it" he says now "you're seeing someone ain't ya?"
Deciding he'd just given me a way out without having to slam dunk his ego, I said agreed, probably a bit too quick as he gave a look that said "You better not be lying to me girl, I'm gonna hunt down and make you my woman whether you like it or not"

How self assured must he be though, to think the only reason I'd refuse donating my precious 11 digit number to his little PDA (Yes that's right, he whipped that baby out about 3 seconds into our conversation) would be because a commitment to another man.

Funniest thing is when I finally managed to go for lunch I took the work experience student out with me, and she said some random Somali guy coming for an X-ray to his knee asked her if she could give him my number! Persistant little bugger....

I've probably gone a bit off topic here, but I was just thinking back to this the other day and wondered whether I may have been a little more giving if it wasn't for that blasted film, for some reason, no one liner or conversation will ever be good enough. Thanks to this soulsucking film industry I'll always keep on the lookout for just the one man who manage to get himself separated from his secluded school/flock/herd and will quote Nietzsche at me to get my attention, I'm not even that picky Rudyard Kipling, Herman Hesse, or Dr. Seuss will even do. Till that day my "why are you even bothering your few remaining brain cells, make it easy on yourself and keep on walking" frown will stay etched into this face of mine