The Neighbour & The Pilau

This week went by so fast, it was a blur. It was such a blur that I don’t think I registered most of the things that went down during the week. The days flew by, leaving me exhausted and unmotivated to do anything other than sit in my underwear, eat pizza, and binge-watch bizarre documentaries about Hitler and other historical antagonists.

Lecturers are still on strike; the loudest and most extravagant reminder that nothing ever seems to work in this country.

I am writing this on a Saturday night. A night that seems to have swallowed everyone else whole. Everyone has gone out to indulge in all manner of frivolity; the compound is eerily quiet, all my neighbours’ lights are off, and yet it’s only 7 p.m. Somehow, that quiet makes my own lethargy feel louder. I can barely summon the energy to write anything, just as I couldn’t summon it all week. Argh, even thinking about completing another paragraph exhausts me.

I should be out with the love of my life, swinging to slow jazz and sipping ridiculously overpriced wine. Not sitting here hunched over my keyboard. I mean, nobody ever died from skipping a newsletter article. But the gods of consistency must be appeased, or else I’ll never hear the end of it. The gods must be very petty people—what do you mean you’ll get mad if I don’t share my libation with you?

Also, why do all my fantasies of a good time involve wine when I don’t even drink?

My sister texted me this morning to ask if I’ve watched Designated Survivor. I haven’t. I told her I’m more inclined toward British films these days. Or, to be blunt, anything that isn’t American. I’ve said this here before: Americans always need to end up as the heroes. British movies, though, have more depth. They mirror society’s real struggles and its raw truths. No one’s crowned a hero; the movie itself becomes the hero.

But I understood what my sister was really asking for: the desire to finish a movie and have someone to dissect it with. Someone sharp, funny, and curious enough to discuss its layers and themes. That’s only possible, though, with movies/series that actually deserve an hour-long conversation afterward. For me, those tend to be the underrated ones, not the blockbuster hits that everyone’s already tweeted about. If I discuss a movie everyone’s seen, my thoughts will inevitably be influenced by online reviews, celebrity takes, and the avalanche of opinions on social media. I still fall prey to that online peer pressure.

To me, an authentic review requires two things: first, a genuine emotional connection—whether love or hate—for the movie; and second, a sincere curiosity about the craft behind it. Not just watching because you’re bored on a Sunday afternoon. The same goes for books and art. If you’re not passionate about them, you’ll never truly grasp the point of art galleries, music, orchestras, history articles, or even art dates.

Take Marvel, for instance. I’m deeply fascinated by the pre-Endgame era of the MCU. Those films felt raw, powerful, and authentic; they told stories that resonated. Nowadays, the sequels feel like money-grabs. The storylines are overcooked. Worse still, MCU and DC seem to be copying each other. It’s boring, and kind of tragic, especially now that my older sister is just getting into Marvel movies. Still, I find myself rewatching the older ones: at 2 a.m. in bed, or whenever a friend mentions them, or simply when I want to hunt for another hidden Easter egg.

A neighbour just dropped by and completely derailed my train of thought. But you already know how I feel about movies. I write about them all the time so I’m sure you get it. Like my sister, once you find someone to talk movies with, everything changes. You enjoy them more, and you’ll never even have to go to the cinema alone again.

Anyway, about that neighbor. She’s not exactly a current neighbor. More of a former one, from the apartments we used to live in before. We didn’t move far, so she knew where to find us. She came over to say hi and brought pilau. This was her first visit since we moved last year. 

Back when we lived next to her, she was always so kind; helpful, welcoming, and genuinely good-hearted. Not the snoopy kind of neighbor you might be imagining, just a truly thoughtful one. She helped us settle in and, despite having several kids, always ensured they didn’t bother us. My sister doesn’t like kids in the house. I don’t mind them. But the neighbour made sure her children stayed respectful and well-behaved.

Today, she brought pilau from an event at her house. How thoughtful is that? As a comrade I am thrilled to receive a food gift.

You know what, I am grabbing a soda from the fridge and digging in with gratitude. None of this writing stuff for now.

Would you look at that… paragraphs.

✍🏽Reagan.