where beauty lies...

86400 seconds in a day...

2011-12-08T00:13:00.000-08:00

lately ihave been thinknig alot about life, about the things we take for granted, the way we dont do what we should, the way we misuse our time and efforts and life. and we never know time has slipped by untill we are dying....or worse...(what could be worse) so i ripped this off Paulo Coelho's blog and i am hopping it makes you think as hard as it did me....

The five regrets
by PAULO COELHO

(One of my friends here sent me a link while commenting on “Insult the dead”. I checked it and I stumbled upon a very interesting text by Bonnie Ware. Below a resumée: )

For many years I worked in palliative care. My patients were those who had gone home to die. I was with them for the last three to twelve weeks of their lives.

When questioned about any regrets they had or anything they would do differently, common themes surfaced again and again. Here are the most common five:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

When people realize that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.
From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realize, until they no longer have it.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.

This came from every male patient that I nursed. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

Often they would not truly realize the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

This is a surprisingly common one. Many did not realize until the end that happiness is a choice. They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.

between dreaming and waking

2011-12-01T20:16:00.000-08:00

It’s that witching hour again, that half-light hour when everything creative comes alive before its robbed of life by full light
It’s about 6:12am according to my wrist watch but really actual time is 6.02am and I do get confused about the time and not being sure if my wrist watch or the wall clock is correct…
It’s early and I haven’t been up early in a while just to sit and muse on things. If I am up early its to dash to the bathroom and get reading for something I have to do on telly at 7am or earlier. If I am not early then I am up at 10am or so when the house is alive and buzzing with life and I have no time for me.
Time for me
The right phrase.
It’s been so long since I really did have time for me, time to get up walk out on the front porch ,sit and think or pray inwardly or just recollect and energize myself for the day. It’s been so long
So friggin’ long, it’s only now writing that I can tell …the echo and beckon in my soul for some time…kills me
Just talked to my boyfriend a couple of hours earlier and he was aghast I was still up. (Well watched three movies back to back) and threatened me lovingly to go to bed or else…I was glad he called, earlier than the anticipated time too.
Boyfriend…
Hmmm
Funny I should call him that…when we haven’t yet physically met for 5 months, we both have played detective on each other, fought and cried and almost broke up but had our laughs too. I can’t say if we don’t trust each other for all that distance does to us but one thing we both enjoy is the way we gasp when the phone rings, the way we can’t hang up even after being on the phone for hours, the way we break our promises to not call each other when we think we have had enough of each other and guess what? We are right back at it. The way we tease and laugh at each other and share every moment of each day with each other as if the other was here or there.
Boyfriend
Sounds like a heavy word, one I never use, but to cater for the warmth he brings into my life with all the loopholes we have in this somewhat ‘virtual relationship,’ I am willing to jump ship and go on a mad dive in an ocean filled with sharks and call him ‘boyfriend,’
Speaking of…
The past few months and weeks have been weird…emotionally strung out, spiritually lifted one moment then…all hell seemed to break loose and…
I will confess I haven’t actually been to church in two weeks.
Somehow I wasn’t feeling it. For no apparent reason.
No , not exactly true.
Something happened to me somewhere in those past five months and I seemed to lose direction, seemed to suddenly slip into depression and anxiety and a whole lot more I personally could not explain .waking up was hard…really hard.
Some days all I wanted to do was sleep all day. Literally!
Other days I was moody and out of sorts and couldn’t stand anyone not even myself.
My dreams were muddled and fuzzy. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go on. My jobs, everything I did or tried to do…seemed hopeless and I didn’t want to do it anymore. Slowly a heavy cloud just seemed to hover over me glide down, hang there and…it only rained on me…while everyone else basked in the glorious sunlight of living… I buried myself in something else…
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing
Because suddenly I felt like someone came in and took my everything away, my creativity, my dreams, my heart, my life. I felt immobile, stagnated…useless. My mind could not for the life of me fixate on anything.
So I face-booked and took coffee.
Even on my last dime.
I made my way to a coffee shop for coffee. It seemed to provide some small comfort. And my friends…
I kept away…I don’t know why...but somehow I didn’t feel anyone would truly understand what I was struggling with. The fight to regain me and chase whoever it was that possessed me then.
Then the bad dreams…the heavy feeling, the weird sensations…
And I knew it was beyond me…this was spiritual. I didn’t understand why after so many years this was happening all over again.
Met my cousin on a Sunday after in I missed church and she told me one thing, ‘pray’
I knew what she meant. She was concerned and could tell something was wrong. The realization brought on the full monty. Depression heightened, lost vision increased, tripled in fact, and the lost-for- life’s-luster just catapulted to another level…
All I wanted to do was die. What was life worth for if I couldn’t dream or write or be me? I kept telling myself.
So I tried one more time and talked to God...told him I needed him to help me out because life was passing me by and I hated how I felt….
I woke up yesterday different…it’s actually been getting better since I prayed. I didn’t say much… I simply let Him Know I needed help. I just needed all this to go away and I needed to be me again, focused, pursuing my dreams, writing again, loving my jobs again. I needed to be me again…
And today…I felt alive… I did things I had postponed for two weeks…
And my heart has been craving for a book. I had one actually…I couldn’t make much sense of it before but clearer head now… I want it so bad…
So its Friday already and at the close of the last movie, I picked up a book that I had read along while ago on dreams, following them, being a dream catcher… flipped through, read a bit and the old nostalgia of me sprung up…me that needed time to go away, alone time to think things through, put them into perspective and brew them then spew them out on a blog or my journal…the old familiar feeling that it was going to be okay was back
My mind was rummaging furiously through the rubble that is, my mind, picking here and there…
Conversations,
Feelings,
Reactions,
Struggles,
The battle within…
And something else came to mind…
Questions
About me, life, people
When I battled my phase of indifference and lack of life luster….i knew no one would understand it…I tried.. and realized no one but God could understand it. The advice varied, ‘pray,’ ‘fight on,’ ‘don’t wallow,’ but no one really reached out deep enough to try and understand the mesh I was caught up in. it wasn’t my own doing, I wanted out, I just couldn’t get out.
I couldn’t blame them. It was deeper than understanding understanding (or maybe not). It was my need for a spiritual experience, a deeper connection… a need to meet with someone that understood deeply without so much as a whole narration of my ordeals to simply put a finger to my ranting lips and say, ‘I understand,’ in a profound way.
Just when I figured who that could be… the clouds started to part…
The book gave me insight too, reminded me why I still needed to live. Why I was important and why mistakes were a part of life and why it could not all be perfect.
I am not sure if I was depressed because life seemed so imperfect, and dreams had so many valley points or that pain and twists and turns in the journey could be so unplanned so totally out of my strict schedule or if it was all one big spiritual battle with God telling me he wanted to come through for me…better still both.
But I do know one led to the other. Now I know that. But as I look at this book and flip through. (I intend on reading it again) I know now, it’s all not easy, the things you love and attaining the mountain height. It all comes with a little pain, a little struggle, a little war and even disillusionment but when you have Jesus on your side, he comes through, he always does.
My life lessons in the past few months…people are not perfect, but love is. Be more accepting. Be more forgiving of you mostly…be less rigid…life can be a joke too, depends on how you look at it.
Enjoy the ride, it is actually fun…that way it’s easy to shake off the disappointments and pain…and above all forward movement….
A friend told me something I decided to take on seriously, ‘sometimes when you want something or you are into something, it’s important to first find out how you feel, block off what everyone else thinks or feels and find within you your answer…that’s the most important step,’ I am doing that too.
Is it giving me peace? Yes, and helping me handle my situations better. Less impulsively

qns for heaven

2011-11-26T23:17:00.000-08:00

why is it that when we want something so bad....it just doesnt come like you hopped it would? or do happily ever afters and the best things in life are just fairy tales but i thought fairy tales mirrored our lives? or was i wrong? hmmm still trying to find out for sure.

haitus...reasons

2011-11-18T01:56:00.000-08:00

trust me i have never taken this long a break from blogging...but life was up in the air and my soul parched of anything substantial to write about....life has been a swing, a pendulum widly cast in the wind and for the first time its been hard to say' i am in control' even when i wanted to be.

oh so badly.
my heart and head locked in a vicious battle of control took over ...for months
and i must admit, heart is gaining ground...lets see how it goes the next few weeks or months..

erractic, crazy but i think i want to go this way, this free fall into the unknown depth of heart...scary becoz i kow what its like....but heck why not try it..get in wholly, get hurt wholly(if it happens) or not and live to tell the tale....
dreamy eyed, i tell oyu
now i understand the poem, 'romance'
feels like it...

i could have been more christian ....

2011-09-11T05:05:00.000-07:00

while doing my gospel show today and Sharpe Sewali and I maneauvered the terrain that is all things movies and christianity, i mentioned to him something i stumbled upon while doing my research. now a 2007 survey on christians and their impact on soceity showed that 87% young people btn the ages of 19-29 viewed christians sd judgemental, 85% hypocritical and 78% old fashioned. and Sharpe agreed to that. even as i laughed i couldnt help and acknowledge it was true, most especially the first two, 'old fashioed? welll...relatively, if it has to do with moral values, i would say no, if it has to do with selling of entertainment products like music or other, it holsds abit of truth.

so why am i talking about this/ well because it is at this point that my story comes in... coupled with the scripture corintihans 13:1-13.
its so easy to recite a scripture and yell 'amen!' when the pastor preaches on it, really easy...till it's put to the test in your life...

it was about five years ago. not a good time in my life, hustling, trying to make ends meet, make God ends meet too...and she walked into my life, into my church. a pretty girl with issues galore. somehow she chose me, and told me alot about herself, her life, her struggle, it was a painful story. she was alone, running from fate but her spirit was vibrant and strong and hopeful. it was amazing to see, to expereince. she was so young, only 16 but she knew more than a thirty year old. being around from pub to pub, man to man and one life to the next. despite it all she was hungry for God and a place to live, a place to start over.
in church we all know that whenever we all receieve christ, its not an overnight metamophrosis and alot has to change, in our minds, motives, lifestyles and most of that hadnt changed, coupled with her vivacious loud character. she was a mighty piece of work! i knew the truth, i knew what had to be done but between knownig and doing was a space in me, i didnt know how to do, how to be the christian i should be without encouraging her in the worng direction or being too judgmental.
in the mix of it all , i learn of her relationship with a close friend of mine. in telling me her ordeal with this gentleman, we realsie we know the same man... and i am in shock at what he did to her, chrisitan moreover... and to her, she is threathened i know him and thus comes a competition i am unaware of. i said we were close friends. in trying to defend her, i go out of my way against her wisahes to confront him to take his responsibilty of her, besides she still loves him. he refused, denied, claiming her a liar. she battled with the mixed feelings of love and hate and i tried to protect her, or so i thought i did. i told my church leaders about her and asked them to do something for her, my little shack was not exactly appropriate for us both... i had alot on me, financially, especially.
however it wasn't easy, i watched as we all distanced ourselves from a responsibility that we could have saved for good. everyone had an excuse not to keep her for a bit...'she is slutty,' 'she is too wild,' 'she's just not right'
we did this, i did too. as much as it was hard to let her go on alone rejected by a people she had come to and had shown herlove in the pews... it had ended there. no one wanted to stretch it.
we all had our own problems and believe you me, she was not an easy one. i took her on for a week but... every day of that week , i battled with being chirsitan to her and judging her and looking at her like something the cat dragged in that i didnt want to deal with, fueled on by theories from my christian friends, my own weakness in helping her., her inability to be as completely chrisitan as i hopeed. soon she got on everyone's nerves and i had to rforce my friend, her as if boyfy to take her on..it was a fight that lasted a few days because he was so unwilling.when she left finally... i heard some weeks later the things she told people about me... that i was trying to compete with her for her man, that i was mean to her and that she cant stand christains, she thought they would help her.
i was angry at first after i had fed her, shared my bed with her, opened for her the back door at 4am almost everynight, lent her my clothes and this is what she could tell people? her man?! oh Jesus. but now when i look bakc, i realsie that i was not able to disciple her right, and her motives and expectations were like everyone else who feels christians are superhuman who should , with a flick of their wrists sort your problems, take your crap, fend for you...
as much as we cant be jesus, i think that to genuinely love someone even when you can only help with 500 shillings goes along way in simply doing a duty grudgingly. she moved on, her positive spirit guided her on to a small waitressing job in town. her half hearted boyfy helped out best he could... as far as i could follow up the story.
but after that, i understood what it meant for our love to be in action and not just in words and how the true christian is judged by their action and not their words... i hadnt passed that test well. my heart had grumbled the whole time, my own self righteousness had been exposed as my fellow christians were exposed to me.
the lesson of 1 corinthians 13 is not an easy one grasped in one day, its a daily one and like the bible seems to say is 'our continuing debt will be that of love,' and our constant daily growth meter will be measured on our depth of love, a height we will not fully attain in our earthly suit, but to a certain level of maturity..yes.
so my motto is to be a better christian, a more loving one, a more patient, kind one. one that lives love and not just says it.

a medley

2011-08-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

been listening to a mish-mash of gospel praise, (not my sort of music at all) but Tye Tribbett got me rethinking that and in between listening to all this amazing worship that makes the praise well up in me, i would prop up the headphones and listen in to radio , the rock show on Xfm, 'soft , hard and heavy' and go all bananas... pop a few chocolate bits in my mouth and almost cry...
it is raining...
in that all too slow wash. where the universe feels it should do it slow and deliberately , for the heck of it and more psycedelic accoustic tunes fused with slow melancholic praise wrestle their way into my ears... right down to my heart and making a disturbing lasting impression more especially on the raw, rough edged corners of my soul that cant help but feel both pleasure and pain, nostalgia and relief. a need to pray and a need to cry.
its then that i find deeply buried hurts that... i cant even place a name, time and date to although i know what they are generally...being poked, shoved out of their comfortable hiding place, so much, it hurts pysically.
i try not to cry, and indeed i cant cry but i know i have two choices, to confront the pain the music resonates to the surface or switch it off and cut this whole therapy. i go on... i love the music, the mix, the rain, the chocolate....
maybe its time i let go of the hurt...stop pretending it didnt hurt. be honest about how i feel. stop trying to be nice about it all and for that moment i can be real, be shockingly real about how i feel about it and those that caused my pain and what it is making me do or making me become.

for that moment, that beautiful painful medley has a point to it, to help me face up, heal and forgive.

good christian girl---a really good read!

2011-08-15T05:44:00.001-07:00

Once there was a good Christian girl who dreamed of growing up, getting married, and having children. She read all the right books and did all the right things. She read about how she was a princess in God's sight and how he wanted the very best for her. She committed herself to sexual purity, to high standards, and to waiting for the good Christian man that God was going to bring her.
Just as she was getting old enough to start dating, however, she noticed something. Some of the popular Christian books were talking about not dating at all, and just being friends, until God had made it clear that the guy she liked wasexactly the right one for her. Her Sunday school teachers taught from a very popular book about how dating was unbiblical, and how a truly righteous young Christian man would initiate a courtship with marriage as the goal, working in tandem with the girl's father and the pastor and others in the church body.
The heroine of our story observed that as these things were being taught, the level of romantic involvement among her peers at church, not very high to begin with, shrank to practically nonexistent.
But the knowing ones, the Christians who seemed to have all the answers, told her, "You're young, there's plenty of time, and you need to learn patience." So she concentrated on her education without worrying too much about men. She graduated from college and found a good job, and then she started to look in earnest for the right man. All the guys in her church were apparently still waiting for the divine signal to initiate courtship (an idea that she had never really taken to), but there were dating websites, and there was the occasional colleague or friend of a friend.
So the girl dated around for a while, but nothing seemed to work out. She remembered her high standards and tried her best to be faithful to them. She wasn't going to settle for a young man who wasn't strong in his faith, mature, well-mannered, and kind.
And the knowing ones shook their heads and said, "You're too picky."
So the girl tried harder to make things work. She tried to give every reasonably decent guy every chance she could. She spent as much time as she could with as many Christian guys as she could.
And the knowing ones shook their heads and said, "You're spending too much time just being friends with guys. They need to know you're romantically interested."
The girl worked on learning to show she was romantically interested. She tried to smile and flirt and be nice and dress prettily. And the knowing ones shook their heads and said, "Watch it, you're being too forward. Let the man pursue you. They don't like it when you do the pursuing."
So the girl worked on being passive. She was quiet and meek and let the guys start every conversation. And she got fewer and fewer dates as time went by. She had her 30th birthday, and then another birthday, and then another. And the knowing ones shook their heads and said, "You've spent too much time and energy on school and work. How did any of that teach you to be a good wife and learn to follow a man? You should have married young and had children long ago."
And guys saw that she wasn't dating very often and scoffed, "Look at her—she won't go out with anyone. She's seen too many Disney movies. All she wants is a Prince Charming. Who does she think she is, a princess?'
And the knowing ones heard, and shook their heads, and said, "That Jane Austen craze put ideas in your head. You just want a Mr. Darcy to come sweep you off your feet. Why can't you just marry a nice man whether you love him or not? Who says you have to have feelings for him?"

The girl was given to understand, from various quarters, that it was girls like her, girls who delayed marriage, that were the trouble with her generation, with Christianity, and with the country in general. She was informed that it was her own fault that she didn't have the things that she longed and prayed for. She started to hear words like "spinster" and "bitter" and "self-absorbed" and "career woman" whispered around her.
And the girl grew tired.
She was tired of advice. She was tired of waiting. She was tired of hearing about Prince Charming and Mr. Darcy. Perhaps most of all, she was tired of shaking heads.
So she ran off with the first non-Christian man who showed some interest, asked her out, and treated her with respect. And the knowing ones shook their heads and said, "What happened to her? She used to be a good Christian girl."

Gina R. Dalfonzo is editor of The Point and Dickensblog and a writer for BreakPoint Radio. She has never run off with or dated a non-Christian guy, nor will she ever. But she's not surprised when some Christian girls do.

she needs a job

2011-07-07T22:24:00.001-07:00

It’s been hard waking up lately.
The maid was fired and duties had to be shared. the hardest are the mornings after a long days work, a late news bulletin and only a few hours of shut eye is hard on a girl. Hardest but most interesting part is waking up my 2 and a half year old nephew to get ready for school. In between rousing myself and then nudging him gently (his mother believes he should not be stirred harshly, bad for his day and heart)
6.30am, I should be done with my bath and partly dressed and getting little nephew out of bed. clinging to his thumb as always I am forever bearing the brunt of his 'morning blues' from rolling over and telling me in his baby formed English, he wants to 'shleep' to asking for his mommy and daddy, then kicking me in the face, neck, wherever if I push too hard... to finally getting out of bed, running to his parents room, then coming back after they throw him out to shower to getting into the humongous basin and throughout the showering and dressing moments calling me 'a bad boy,' kicks and at times slaps, clawing added to the list. it is a night mare I tell you but then again, sweet pain. I love the little guy so much.
After that, the battle of shoes. Despite the fact that he has a gazillion shoes, he picks on a particular over-sized pair that he won’t let go of unless the world ends.
It ended today when parental efforts schemed against it and hid the shoes letting him know they were stolen. Poor innocent thing run to the parents to inform them of the unfortunate incident and they were shocked and hurt for his loss. Funny, huh?
Well this is not about my adorable nephew or his family. This post is about that one particular incident two mornings ago that stayed with me for some reason.
sleepy, groggy, I stumbled into the car after a hectic getting -my nephew-ready few hours, i practically dozed in the back seat to town, I had a dialogue workshop thingy to attend and wished i could have said no but went nonetheless. dropped off a few yards from my destination center, the 2 min walk just seemed like an uphill task to the peak of some mountain so I called up the first boda that passed by. in less than a minute I was at the gate of the hotel and as I turned to pay the guy he asks me, 'do you work here?'
I smile 'no i don't?' then curious I ask 'why? Also surprised at how fluent his English was
He tells me, 'my daughter has finished school; she did BA economics from Mukono university and needs a job. She is still at home.'
In that instant a zillion and one things came to me, but they all boiled down to one thing, I wanted to help. If I could.
I asked where she had tried; I even told him the ministry could be a starting place for her.
He thanked me and left but our conversation, his concern, her plight stayed with me.
It suddenly hit me again, not as a new item but the harsh reality Uganda has plunged into, rampant unemployment. A girl with good grades in Econ at that couldn't get a job. My heart melted at the fond concern for a father that was/ is earning a living as a boda boda driver, making ends meet to having taken her to school. Was he a single father? What did the wife do if she was alive? Compassion gripped me and couldn't let go and for the first time in so long...
The news was not just something I read but something I experienced on my way to work.

no say

2011-07-04T11:12:00.000-07:00

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lines on a blank page
of my today..........................
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.............. i filled it
with the sound of silence.

the cleft chin

2011-06-21T07:56:00.000-07:00

she always wanted to date a man with a cleft chin, just like her daddy.
all the men she met were not like her father: tall, built,wore jeans all the time like it was all there was in fashion, kind but firm, intelligent and amazingly funny. the super dad she always believed he was. and that dimple in his chin. the one she played with when she was three, sticking her pudgy fingers into it and giggling, 'daddy has a hole in his chin,' she would blat out with a lot of eloquent effort and he would roar into her neck till she's squealing with hearty laughter.
she hoped for that kind of man twenty seven years later. but good men were hard to find and work proved more predictable and likeable but her friends would hear none of it, forever setting her up for a date or two in a week something she just could not afford what with her 7-7 schedule at work, the bank was no place for fun loving people but Paula wasnt looking for fun now
'yeah you said that when we got to senior one, then to senior 4 then to campus and after campus...girl!!! you are still singing that same old tune/ its grown old already. when do you hope to have fun and meet men and be happy. for all i care it could be in your grave and still you will be waiting for i donno what!,'
Kim one of her friends with the loudest husky voices chimed out, sending the other three girls sprawling over in peals of laughter. Paula was used to this lecture, she
just smiled.
and that smile got her a date sooner than she expected. it wasn't another fix up, it was the guy eating a burger at the next table who happened to know Kim, i mean who didn't know Kim, loud and wild were her middle names and she knew every one in town, more because she did e-business and met the most important people in a girls life, as she stated it. she knew this guy somehow and he seemed to have peaked an interest in Paula who hardly caught his gaze.
but the game was set and unknowingly, she was playing along, meeting him 'accidentally' as was Kim's strategy. going on dates with the girls and him along. meeting him with Kim on the weekends when she would rather stay in bed. to crown it off, him being brought to her house on a day she adamantly refused to go out, too exhausted to think. that was it. three weeks of trying to match them was only getting her nerves up and out of bend. she could tell he was interesting conversational but she just wasn't interested, or was it, she hopped he was like her dad? whatever it was, it wasn't the right time for her. no not yet...
she still needed that position. it was only eight days away and then maybe she could...date whoever but now...she needed to concentrate.
that day, Kim and her had a major quarrel. she had gone too far was all Paula could say. Kim was adamant, she needed a man.
Paula assured her the promotion with a doubled salary and extra allowance was what she needed. they both left off mad and hurt with the other friends picking off the pieces. He who was match-made kept a civil communication line, receiving nothing much from Paula. he didn't insist.
the day of the promotion came and left Paula in a whirlwind of disappointment, her life's work, her dad's words seemed to crumble before her like charred toast crushed
her world was over, the position was passed on...she sat infront of the telly and wept, passed up all her friends phone calls to celebrate. Kim insisted and she only text her to let her know the dream position was not given to her.
fiften minutes later, her doorbell rang and she was sure it was Kim, with all the girls only to see He who was matchmade at her door with a bottle of something that looked like wine and a card. she wanted to slam the door right in his face buut held back the temptation and mastered all the politeness she had learned growing up promising to have him out in fifteen minutes. the fifteen minutes turned to thirty, when she realsied he actually didnt like the match making idea anymore than she did, talking about it lightened the air and they could easily laugh at the way they both felt forced to put up appearances. the card was from the girls saying sorry it didnt work out but other things can...he had not even seen its contents and they lauughed it off, took alittle wine, talked some more and Paula could have sworn he was truly a nice guy. after an hour he got up to leave giving her his hand as the start of a friendship, and she smiled taking it...
it was then that she noticed he had a cleft chin.

blogger?

2011-06-12T23:58:00.000-07:00

hey i shall be on news journal at lunch to talk about the impact of blogging on society, news etc, so can i have a blogger willing to come on board for this, a blogger or two? read up on this!

a day at the beach

2011-05-30T07:59:00.000-07:00

maybe we should just go,
just go, just go away...

lazy sunday afternoon, country music lazily seeped out the car radio enveloping us in the backseat.
i drink it in leisurely, like my soul depends on it and relax. i sit back
watch them pull strands of something out of their hair, not just strands, mounds of sand and pieces of seashells from their shorts and open back tops and swim suits still dump from playing crazily with water and sand. now and again they double up and laugh at the pics they took.their backs against the setting sun as it streams through the half rolled up glass.
Micheal, in the driver's seat goes on and on about something, i cant really hear it, the hum of his deep drawl makes me drowsy and i am staring ahead half shut eyes, lethargic, tired and smelling of sea weed and fish.
i smile as the girls giggle, try outlandish poses, hanging on the window, on each other, front co-driver seat pulled down and right into the front too...'pictures in motion' they call it.
i smile.
too tired to join in, beside i like to watch them be girls and take memorable pics of a day at the beach.
a day they looked forward too all strenuous work month to let down their hair.

they are back!!!!!! in july!

2011-05-24T07:29:00.000-07:00

my musical taste is weird but trust me it is all goooood! i love love this group Burlap to cashmere and the only shreds of for keeps i had of them is an album i shelve from wanton hands and prying eyes in case they steal it and i dont get it back, plus its one of my few originals straight from other countries and it dint come easy. listening to Burlap to cashmere is like watching a musical play performance. the language is poetic and visual, the beats? mediteranean, rokc/folk, totally out of this world. so strange i looked them up and realized why...they have a lot of greek influences fused with world music. i am a lyrics mad person. the beat is just a coupling stead to the lyrics, the stronger and more poetic the lyrics, the better for me, so listening to one of their tracts 'dont forget to write,'and i am thinking, 'gosah,i now remember why i loved this here group in the first place,' the emotive ballades, the poetry, thegreek influences, the merge of what seems mainstream yet christian, i cant class these guys they are a class apart when it comes to music and their stlye, check out the song hope you like it!

check out these lyrics once in 1998 in Eileen's song

You have one wing and I have another
Seeking shelter like sister and brother
Through the winter and through the summer
Like one angel we'll
Fly far away

Hold my hand and we'll make it all right
From this hell that we live in
Cross the road until the light
Comes inside and lives within
It's a long and lonesome ride
When your friends have all gone home
But the roses in your eyes
They pull me in so I don't feel alone

now 12 years later older and deeper and still strutting the same stuff , nostalgic and emotive
their lyrics still move me.
this is from 'dont forget to write' a single from the 2011 release

iam at ease, the ocean's near
the sun is sinking
the moon is tame, the fever is gone
and i feel fine.
oh baby dont forget to write.

que sera sera, i am an orphan
though i see the world as new.
do you remember when the clouds were gold
and love was shining through?

iam at ease the ocean's near
the sun is sinking
i see you smiling.
your eyes redeem my foolish ways and you are mine
oh baby , dont forget to write

the eastern wind reveals your name
across the sky
oh i love you and dont forget to write...

so compare the two!

meanwhile they showed up in 1998, then disappeared with the lead singer doing two solo albums and now...come july, burlap to cashmere bring their mediteranean selves bac ktogether in a self titled album after 12 yrs! i got to go on a missionary trail to convert every blogren member to listen up and love these guys!

sucker punch (ed)

2011-05-19T06:58:00.000-07:00

i was , as usual looking for another movie to review and of course some sort of high to kick me out of my melancholic haze and i was MAD, ABSOTUDLEY MAD!!!!! to pick on sucker punch for that effect! i was sucker punched for real. just so i warn you before hand, dont watch a Zack Snyder movie(300, Watchmen) on an empty stomach or on the brink of suicide you just might do it, (suicide i mean) through out the movie, (i hadn't done my research) i kept thinking, this is so familiar, i have seen this slow-motion/action choreography, the sudden zoom in to detail that is captivating, the grunge/ rock punk music, the amazing visual spectacle, the off-ish colour that makes you feel like you are in a straight jacket locked up in some asylum(yeah, well its the movie plot too)very claustrophobic! half the time i was catching my breathe and yet again wishing i was watching it in 3D (now surely i cant put this movie review in an all female mag, no woman could date Zack Snyder...seems the kind thats fascinated by whips, handcuff and stuff, if you get my drift)

okay before i get into this movie the plot is simple at least according to IMDB: A young girl is institutionalized by her abusive stepfather. Retreating to an alternative reality as a coping strategy, she envisions a plan which will help her escape from the mental facility. NOW THE MOVIE HAS A FEW PEOPLE IN THE CAST I CANT HELP BUT SAY 'WHAAAT????!!!"
our famous hot star of the high school musicals who was ,until two months ago dating Zac Effron , Vanessa Hudgens, is apart of the cast that has Emily Browning (violet in Lemony Snickets a series of unfortunate events. now that's an amazing movie) Abbie Cornish.
now this movie swings as if from 1934 to the year 3000, mostly when we try to cope with this baby doll's imagination...

apart from the fact that we are most times not sure if we are in an asylum, since it has long since become a brothel and the escape from it is an erotic dance performed by this here 'baby doll'to some video game created atomsphere from a World war scene to a feudal Japan, orc infested castle to kill dragons, steam trains racing against time and a bomb...man!!!!
if you are a sucker for kicks and fancy graphics and a lot of fantasy action then you might love this new evolved Snyder. its a hybrid of 300 and Watchmen, just over the top, me thinks!
in a way its also an all girlpower -think charlie's Angel's sort of movie with hot sexy girls dressed like go-go dancers prancing an imagined wild to fight their wildest foes all for the sake of freedom.
i love the merge between fantasy and the real and also the realisation that what happens in the fantasy real is a hyperboled version of what happens in the real world. i cant help but tip my hat to Snyder's out of the box imagination in attaining the effect and message he deos rely in this here movie. the fact that when we are all faced with a really claustophobic life situation , we fight to get out and we use all we have, even our imagination!
its not a movie for everyone, mark you.

now make sure you go on and watch 'Pirates of the Caribean; on stranger tides' supposed to open this Friday before the world ends (you havent heard? that the world is ending on 21st may at 6pm? eh, go eat be merry and have fun!)
jack Sparrow is back! yay!

is love dead?

2011-05-17T09:50:00.000-07:00

been trying to post something for ages and not being able to somehow my insides are all up in knots, tied up in the fate of others, the need to be loving and caring and I am hit with a new revelation, am i just blind? or are we colder and more selfish today than we used to be?
has love become sex and what the other person can do for you? What happened to growing in love and keeping sex for later? what happened to the men? why are they so rash? is it true we don't have enough fathers for the boy child? there are so many lost boys in grown men's skins that couldn't stick out for a woman or their own. i say this here pop culture has a lot to blame for it.
relationships are a lot of hit and run these days and we throw the bomb not really caring who we hurt and how we do it.
but as we grow older, we seem to not know what we want. in the end i think its just as the God Book says, the hearts of many has grown cold... love is dead

am older!oh Gosh!

2011-04-23T16:37:00.000-07:00

its like 2am in the morning and i had a really great scrabble game earlier with a crew of very interesting people...and then had a 'pamper' moment with my really good friends (even though i try not to say they are the people i have grown so close to)and came home to blog. not because it was a bad day but because despite the really great time i had today, something inside hasn't felt very right.
i like to say i am fearless and got no absolute threats but i have realized that even the brave are afraid when faced with the incomprehensible or a seemingly larger than life issue and i am not an exception. the difference between a coward and a brave person is the choice we make to be either cowardly or brave and bravery defies how we feel.
so i am asking myself about maturity and what it really means.
does maturity have a lot to do with not expressing how we feel in order to do what we dim is right?

its 2am,
almost three i need to sleep but somehow need to write, torn between sleeping writing and thinking. my fingers seem to type faster than my thoughts can churn out sense of the web within, maybe i should sleep and it will all be clear tomorrow
the questions, the web. it all...
tomorrow.

a very disappointed fella wrote this....

2011-04-19T22:57:00.000-07:00

And in today's age, we spend between 10% and 20% of our lives watching TV, movies, playing video games or blindly surfing the internet.

We spend about 5% of our lives bathing, grooming and getting dressed.

Another 5% for eating/drinking.

And the average adult spends roughly 30% of their lives working, preparing for work or thinking about work.

So in the end, only 10% of our lives truly can have any real meaning.

The average human lifespan is about 75 years, so 10% is 7.5 years.

How much of that 7-and-a-half years of our entire existence on Planet Earth are we using to truly better ourselves and the world around us?

Something to think about...

dry spell

2011-04-15T12:35:00.000-07:00

dry, gritty, wordless, looks like the drought all over the country
has caught up with me
on the inside.
somehow i have nothing to say
or write anymore
not just on blogger
generally.
someone said i am prolly stressed
but i know i am dried out from giving
and i need to hibernate....

will post when i get to an oasis
love ya

and iam fine

just taking a hiatus to refill, replenish my parched soul

on a grey day

2011-03-30T06:54:00.000-07:00

I am kinda low, its more in my soul( thank God its not gone further) and I want to cry but more to sleep and forget the thing that's caused me sadness. sometimes i wonder how anyone in a bad relationship or marriage can wake up to a repeat of the day before and like me, want to cry but more to sleep and forget the thing that's caused them sadness. it is not the sadness of losing something. its the sadness of not being able to be, not being able to impact, to be appreciated for the beauty within and above all to be understood and known for who I really am. instead robbed of peace of beauty and drained to the core. its that dry crispy sadness that rasps against the spirit in need of replenish of a little understanding. for sanity.
so in my headache filled, soul-exhausted day, i recalled with deep longing to go back there, a poem i loved so much, a poem so melancholic it warmed me in my grayest of days and i am shocked that even as i pieced it up together, i actually still did recall it all. word for word.
so i guess i should keep a copy of this amazing poem on my blog too, not just my heart

Words May Lose Meaning

once, in an hour that i shall not forget,
you took a stick and wrote upon the sand.
the wind was around us and your hair was wet
you held my hand in your other hand.

words may lose meaning though they promise well
and eyes like strangers coldly meet and pass
empty of comfort like a broken shell-
or the wind's errand in the mountain grass

but you have money!

2011-03-23T02:40:00.000-07:00

recently i realized that publicity and working for the media is a lot more demanding than having to look over and above the public's expectation. people also expect you to be their one stop charity center, their know-it -all guru whether you just woke up or you had a really really out of sorts day; they expect a sunny disposition, a larger than life heart and an enormous...no GIGANTIC encyclopedic mind!
the demand is mind blowing...the demand from people for you to be super, forever rich, forever happy, forever everything to everyone, forever utopia...to be the illusion they see on TV.

just the other day, walking off from work, tired, sleepy and in need of good food and hardly enough for what i was particularly craving, i stand by the stage, lost in thoughts of usual calculations of destination, work plan and things to do...when..
'hello madam how are you?' i turn and this very sick girl looks at me, well looks past me and starts to ramble on and on.... i realize i passed her on my way to the stage and in the mob of a crowd of 'standers-by' she wiggled her way through it and came right to me! i smiled, tired to be polite...(i really wanted to be left alone)then she dropped the bomb and told me what was on her mind,
you see i am going to hospital to get ARV'S and would like some money.' my heart fell through... i was just thinking of how to get money for myself. then i wondered why she picked me? was it coz i was in a suite, all made up and looking like the 21st century Jones? or was it coz i smiled at the person that stood next to me and greeted me? or was it coz i seemed approachable? so i asked her those questions. she didnt seem to listen to me and insisted on what she wanted. i had never seen an HIV/AIDS victim up close and badly afflicted. could she be using this to get money out of me? i was torn, how could i say no, so i asked how much....she told me an exorbitant amount that would basically be all i had so i told her i could only give her a certain amount. walked around for change and finally gave it to her, if not for her insistence, it was because i felt so sorry for her state, sorry, shocked, almost traumatized. that moment stayed in my mind for a week or so.

there have been some coming to my work place as well... and lots other places, a more recent one however ....
some days later,i decided to treat myself to fresh juice from Uchumi, figuring i could have it all day, so slopped from work to get some. right at the juice counter , making my fresh cocktail no sugar order and a woman walks up to me, a huge smile on her face. 'are you so and so?'
i frown, wondering if i know her and nod hesitantly,
'ooooh, i watch you on t.v. how is so and so?' referring to my co-anchor and i tell her she is okay, then i turn my attention to the counter as my juice can fills and i am in buying negotiations with the man behind the counter. i partially forget about the woman i have greeted, only to realize as i am leaving that she is still standing there, it doesn't hit me that she is waiting for me and then she tells me a little bit about her affiliation to my workplace years ago and constantly hinting on how she is retired. then drops the bomb as i approach the counter, 'you see i have been sitting here praying that God would send someone to help me. you see i am going to see my daughter at this and this bank but its so far off and i cant walk the whole way.'
'you don't have money,' i ask stupidly, of course she didn't and i knew she wanted something
'no, ' she responds an embarrassed smile crosses her face , 'i saw you and thought you could help me with some transport,'
i couldn't say no, how could i? she was about fifty something or maybe sixty and she was stranded but how could i believe her? was it for real? why me? when she had been sitting here for about half an hour waiting for an angel? and she picked me? because she could come up to me coz i work in the media? is it fair? how many more people think that everyone in the media can be approached and asked for anything and they get it? are media figures richer than everyone else? are media figures deemed as fairy god people? so why us?
anyway i gave her her transport fare, walked out of there dazed. not sure who to blame for all this.

iam selling!!!!!

2011-02-27T21:47:00.000-08:00

while in Rwanda recently i met an artist i fell for instantly...it was either him or his pictures that took my fancy, but whatever it was, the feeling stayed and i want to share it with you all. i urge you to go to his website and in order to do that i am posting some of his pictures here so you can judge the artist he is, he is AMAZING. look at the samples of my rwandan friend's wedding pics in a January entry 'rwandan affair' to get a glimpse, but this is part of his collection on his website.... his name Arnaud Mugisha Gwaga

enjoy the pictorial, by the way, the first picture is one of himself, i still wonder how he did it! so visit his website. he will be in Uganda sometime and i will most def bring him to meet the blogger fraternity and even take pics o you all!

on growing younger.

2011-02-14T01:36:00.000-08:00

listen up.
Ahem!
iam turning 30 soon in 2 month's time. i still need to announce it and say it over and over to myself so i can actually internalize the fact that i am turning 30.
and with this realization, i also discovered how women subtract a helluva decades off their age to be younger in every possible way.
its a woman's best kept secret; that only happens to you when you ( like a light bulb moment) get to an age you feel you need to stop time and live forever young.
i swear, i am tempted to pull that as well but at least the blogren family will know the secret and keep me accountable.
so lately I've been looking back to my twenties and taking inventory of my life at 20-29. and i realized i didn't live at all. i live my teenage years in my twenties!
the 20's signified DRAMA at a dimension only familiar to those that are...in their 20's or less. and i felt that if at this age with what i know and how emotionally mature i feel, i could turn back time, i would live my 20's to the fullest.
maybe you don't get it, here it is
at 20: i wanted to date some swash buckling Don Juan, with shaggy beards and i dreamed of my wedding gown every night.

at 21: i wanted to travel the world the very next day and kept hoping i would nine years later

at 22: i was trying to get anorexic and be the skinniest size zero babe ever!

at23: i was working on my relationship with God and not understanding the dynamics of salvation and why it felt so hard!

at 24: i was soul searching, dysfunctional and looking for true friendships. and that Don Juan never came or i was looking too hard.

at 25: i gave up, after two heart breaks, on the roman-themed wedding and marriage in general. it was the first time i gave up on men....i gave many more times after that...

at 26: i decided to develop my self and be independent and be better than i was...still battling my weight. and then again letting my foolish heart go. lol!

at 27: i knew i wanted to be the next J.K Rowlings. i started working hard at it. then 8-5pms became a mirage. i decided i would never work like that.

at 28: i started to understand the meaning of true independence. living alone, paying bills, etc. it was /is hard, exciting and totally delusional

at 29: decided the fewer the friends the better. love hurts but there is a better deal always. realized its okay to let people go, its okay to be fat, its okay to grow old, to wise. its fine to have a deferring opinion. its not the end of the world to not be loved. its okay not to explain yourself. its okay to be a cat among pigeons. its okay to be beautiful, desirable and desired. its okay to not say hi.that life is short and its better enjoyed spending each moment fulfilling your dreams than living in the past, regrets and pain. that you cant hurry love. take your time, be absolutely sure about what you want, don't settle for less and don't let your true love pass you by. that pain kills you slowly, makes you older. that God will never abandon me and that all i have is Him, when all else is done! above all , knowing me makes me realize the greatest peace comes with being okay to be ME.

SO MY 29 realization has released the elixir of youth and healthy living, because now i am thinking...what the hell was i thinking, mourning, griping, being afraid, fighting for so much when Me was there all along asking to be.
i am so comfortable in my skin now and i know what i want more that i ever did years ago. so in my mind, i am taking this second chance at living with GUSTO...in 2 months time, i will be 20 again living my youth, the way i should have lived it!

happy valentine's day!

its nothing personal, really

2011-02-03T12:17:00.000-08:00

another day gone by.
a few more shillings to earn. at least before i can call it a night.
business has been good. thanks to the heat plaguing Kampalans, no one wants to brave it and my job is then well done. uh huh!
she strolls by, undecided. i can tell. folding her arms over her blue sweater. she glances over at me and i take the bait.
'nyabo, o'genda wa?'
she pauses, looks at me, watches the cars whizzing by and finally makes up her mind. walks up to me.
'Ssebo, Luwafu mekka?' she stumbles over her luganda. i can tell she is one of those high class girls who don't even know what the inside of a taxi looks like. probably a first time.
iam willing to give her a virgin ride for a steeped up fee. really high! i place my stakes.
i do my customary confused act, 'Luwafu, makindye?'
'yes,' she switches languages.
'ok,' i followed suit with the craft i have harnessed for five years. i pull out the dirty over used rag and wiped the seat, 'kale letta ekumi taano,'
'two-five?' she asks unsure about what i have said. i chuckle.
'ah-ah five hundred... i mean five thousand,' i respond brokenly. surely this strange language infuriates me!
'eeeh Ssebo...' and the pleading starts. after a few moments of haphazard negotiations between broken English and Luganda, we agree on the meager fee of 4500. a big steal for me i guess.
she mounts behind me. her faint fruity perfume fills my nose. i wonder if she has been in town all day...the scent is still so fresh.
with the streetlight's pale gaze fixed on her moon face, i was quite glad i would take this pretty thing all the way....
'tuggende,' she instructs when ready
and my day's work ends.
we are flying through traffic, and she is frightened, i feel the tension in her fingers as she digs deep into my heavy jacket and chuckle, i reassure her she will be safe. she begs me to slow down.
but how can i ? i like the way she is slowly snaking her hand round me and leaning close, almost onto me. its the wind in her eyes, the roaring sound of the wind mingled in traffic, the fading heat, dust...
she digs in a little more this time complaining in my ears, the wind carries her voice over my shoulder..the weight of her head on my back... spurs me on... i like this. how can i stop now, i tell her, i want to get her to her destination fast and in one piece for sure....
her vice like grip is taunting...awaking every male instinct in me... surely, for only 4500, it is okay. its really nothing personal.
i am in a new heaven...beyond the 7th. i carry on...
steady speed. enjoy the scent that floats from her hair and body.
the warm weight of her leaning in for protection.
for a few minutes i feel like a hero...a knight!
i just work hard . too hard and taking a beautiful woman to wherever is a small reward for hard labour. its nothing personal, i tell you.
just a small reward.
is it too much to ask? a simple boda guy like me?
its nothing personal, really.

the wedding: a rwandan affair

2011-01-19T07:49:00.000-08:00

so a really good friend of mine got married, she made an amazing bride and i will only sample a few pics wish i could tell the whole story , you know, traveling to Rwanda, getting lost in the town and thinking i would become french barbecue for some thug and partying in their night clubs and thinking how strange, and loving the clean air, nice roads but also ...missing home....i wouldn't blink relocating and marrying some francophone dude 9they be all good looking) but...that's another story, for now...i introduce to you, alpha... my buddy!

having a baby

2011-01-03T06:04:00.000-08:00

so in the recent last year, someone asked me if i was looking to have a baby, a question that set me aback in peals of hearty laughter. A BABY?!What the heck were they smoking?
so we went back and forth on the topic abit and i was pretty much screaming 'HELLLLL NOOOOO!'
and no i am not saying i don't like babies, i really do ...well enough in a healthy way.
anyway on recovery, i really sat back to seriously chew on this allegation/accusation/ whatever it was and in a moment of truth asked myself: would i want a baby? right now?
as much as i wanted to leap off my seat and scream 'yes!'
i had to be honest, everything screamed 'no' with no room for conflict. so i was sorted and even as i screamed NO within the a thousand reasons milled in effortlessly. one: my career is still fledgling, according to me and i have learnt to accept its Vanity potion but also learnt to accept my hunger for more than this, not for Fame more for Success, call it the success Monster and babies will get in the way..at least for now.
two: i have friends with babies and as much as its been a fad for people to have babies for a while the whole single parenthood phenomenon, it never caught on for me... i want the full Monty; daddy, mommy and then the babies (Iam not saying that those that got babies because of an unavoidable circumstance fall in this here niche). fad speaks for itself.
three: babies are a big deal! BIG big DEAL! AND i blame it on my overly perfection tendencies, its got to be right. the right time, right guy, right everything...generally right time to roll in the hay too. i don't feel right, and there is no MR. right and honestly not hopping for one soon. like a friend said 'unlike love, work is easier to deal with it's more decisive, more controllable, makes senses and is straightforward' (i couldn't agree more)
okay back on the big deal about babies. they cost a hefty much, let no body lie to you that they only look and smell good. babies are alot of work, sleepless nights, sickness almost every week, pampers cost a dime a dozen, feeding in itself is another thing, basically, say bye bye to alot of your person freedom when you have a baby because they stay for as long as you are alive and your freedom never returns because they will always be your baby. the point is, you just have to be ready in every way, emotionally and psychologically for that sacrifice. i am honestly not there yet. i can barely take care of myself. i am an insomniac with my writing and have the weirdest work hours and i still dream of doing a lot other things for the sake of success. i would not want any child to have me for a mother now...
four; it is worse if the father of the child is not into you... then you do what/ kill the child? boil them in a pot because you are frustrated
five; what if you can't be a full time stay home mom(which is the case) and maids are a headache trust me! then what? and have to deal with the anxiety of if your kids are in the right hands?
six: it sounds selfish and oh so presumptuous i know, i have been told... but i simply want the best for the kids when they come. more than a the basics, i think the basic is a loving family; i mean mommy, daddy and kids. that's how its got to be for me.

2010

2010-12-28T07:55:00.000-08:00

iam glad its almost over.
its been
pain, pain, pain, pain and more pain alll the way...

but
a lot of growth too.

however i hope next year brings something better
better than this year

i am not making resolutions, wishing on a star or listening to prophecy.
lets see how 2011 will go,
step by step, day by day.

happy nu yr y'all!

FAN MAIL

2010-12-07T05:19:00.000-08:00

DEAR FAN,
i got your text message this morning, right after i shut my laptop and had finished off with your 10th mail today. i have decided to take time off to let you know that...iam as ordinary as they come. your last text made me a tard bit guilty, you have been telling me about your mother and what you are going through and i did not know what to say so i didnt respond and today you wish me a good day and i harness everything in me to let you know your mom will be okay, so will you, it will pass and you let me know almost instantly how wonderful you think i am and what a good person i am and i stop... guilty that i simply responded to be polite because that is what is expected of me.
there is no need for me to be hard on someone that thinks i am all that, someone they feel lives above the rest of the world, in a flowery Utopian world where it's all nice and rosy. i wish i could say that, i wish i could lie to you, tell you that life on the stage is just that: chrysanthemums. but i cry like you, i lose people, i fall sick, i fall in love and i hurt like you all, i get broke, i take boda bodas and no i don't live with a permanent make over. i have bad hair days and mornings where i look fatter than i feel.
i iwish i could lie to you that i am what i am on the set as i am off, that i am always genuinely nice. sometimes i put on show because the industry requires a superficial benevolence to all,yet i would like for my phone not to ring for once or my inbox not be packed with fan mail. sometimes i want to just hide, go away from it all. sometimes i want to scream from the top of mount Everest that i am just a girl with a job that requires that exposure and most definitely has nothing to do with my take-home. that i hustle and i don't eat all my meals at the Serena even though you met me there often. don't think i paid for that 250,000 show. no its my job to cover those events or a simple token of appreciation from the organizers.
yup my heels bend and break on the streets.
yup i sweat
yup i get malaria
yup, i am still an ordinary person when i get with my folks
yup i sleep. yeeeeees! i do!
to wrap it all, iam just doing a job like any other, maybe not as great as others around, but it requires that i am seen more than i would want to be... but like i said
its not all rosy, i am no saint. i am just living my life, like you
thank you for your mail, your text messages, the calls. thank you.
maybe i just might be a better person. maybe i just might become that model fan you see in me.

yours truly......

super TV star

modus operandi

2010-11-03T21:42:00.000-07:00

I used to sit
and watch the rain
clouds thicken-
in haste
dispel, their misery or
joy?
in glassy wet sheets-
Against earth's silent mound
reminding me-
telling me, i'm not who i
used to be-
used to say i was.
since then
Since the clouds cleared
sky came through-
Roses grew, moss enshrouded

my sitting place

1949

2010-10-27T10:09:00.000-07:00

today
i saw that
man.
with a peculiar face
polo pulled up
against curly
wooly big afro
-that
took me back
in time and place-
willow trees bowed low
heavily spent
from carrying the weight of rain
on a cold cold autumn morning
coffee houses
richly scented,
painted brown
with coffee beans, steamed coffee
floating mists
intense conversations.
of a better life and bigger brighter future-
after the sky rained bombs.

BEAUTY AND the beast

2010-10-23T23:46:00.000-07:00

i sat on the tall bar stool thinking of the dream i had had two days ago. the disturbing contents of that dream had thrown me back in my violent throes of the toxic addiction i sure as hell had beat months after... i finally let go of Alyana. how long had it been? ten months, five days and three hours.
i chuckled as i gulped down the last drops of the chilled punched vodka out the glass and felt its poisonous iron cold grip search frantically like many tiny fingers through my chest. my system. my gut and shoot up like a thousand fireworks in my mind. my eyes blared.
'you okay man?' i faintly heard the bar man ask. i looked at him with a silly grin on my face as the tremor died away
'that was a nice one. can you fix me another?'
the bar man, a beefy man with a toothy grin beamed with satisfaction and nodded tossing the wash towel over his shoulder and went right away to get me my drink, 'tongue-twister' that's what he had called it and i did start to feel it, my tongue getting heavy. but i could not stop now, it had been months till today and that dream just brought it all back. hard as i tired to forget what led to our breakup, the dreams did not stop. this one in particular was more real, more disturbing than the rest i had had. i dispassionately looked around me, it was only 8pm and the bar was close to empty.
'why is business slow today,' i asked the bar man as he placed my chilled tongue twister before me on a miniature place mat, handed me some peanuts along with it.
he shrugged, 'some days it gets like this, you know with the recent burglary around here and cars being vandalized, security is so tight....but after ten when the music heats up...they will be here.' he smiled reassuringly.
i shrugged... the dream returned, as clear as it was..Alyana's eyes, big brown and mischievous, yet innocent. i always pointed that out about her. the controversy, the conflict in who she was...sweet and sour, sexy and innocent, fiery and cool, loud yet quiet. a Jekyll and Hyde sort of personality that many times had thrilled me more than scared me and maybe that's what made me love her...no, obsess over her. i never knew what was coming. whether in her moments of rage she would hurl a flat iron at me or whether in a moment of passion curl up and purr her need in my ear...either way, i was drunk in her love, completely bewitched by who she was. the guys thought it was a bit much, they did not understand how she held me captive. i mean 'she's not that pretty! and she scares the hell out of us dude!'
'she is schizo!' they constantly hurled at me and i would smile. living with Alyana was like living on the edge, riding a speed road bike on the edge of the canyon. swerving and hitting curves and cutting through traffic at high speed,a high. she was my drug. yes she wasn't pretty and most definitely not my type of girl but later two years down the road on a roller coaster ride relationship she told me when she first saw me, she made up her mind she had to have me. it was common knowledge on Campus that i had to simply flick my finger to get the girls, or raise my brow ever so slightly and they flocked in like i was piping some enchanted tune. 'pied piper' was my nick name on campus, shortened to 'pip' to this day. and i liked them girls voluptuous, sweet natured and a bit daft. Alyana wasn't daft and then.... a mix of it all. the best cocktail i had ever had in life. i figured i could make one and call it Alyana.
then it ended? i dont recall why we had to let go...aaah yes!
i wanted to settle down. she thought i was mad...
i sighed heavily
was that it? i shook my head , trying to race with the clammy finger of drink at a grasp of my slipping memory.
then i heard the giggles that rose in to a full throaty laugh and sat up watching the group of people walk in, three girls and a gentleman. my breathe caught for a moment watching them and the girl in a red halter dress in particular. it was her,Alyana. everything faded and as if she knew it, her gaze caught mine...but there was no hint of recognition or it was the drink playing on my mind. i got up stupidly from the stool and walked up to them; staggering; 'hey,'
i called out, not caring if i looked like some psycho, i had to speak to her. 'hey, Aly!'
i called. followed them to their table the gentleman with them held me back 'whats up?' he looked just about ready to hit me. 'woh!' i backed up, ' i just want to say hi to Aly' the guy raised his brow 'Aly?'
'yeah!' i nod pointing at the girl in red. the girls giggle.
' i think you have the wrong girl dude, whoever Aly is, she aint here,' the guy tells me.
'no..'
'hey, just go!' he shoves me back.
i glower at him steaming for a fight, 'i just want to say hi to the lady!'
'back off you sod!' the guy pushed me back harder this time and the attention of the customers started to shift to us, with some people calling for a fight, others simply laughing. one of the waiters caught me back and took me to my place.' please sir, not now. the police will close us down. please.' he begged
i sat trying to calm down constantly staring back at the girl who had gotten so self concious knowing i was watching her.
'hey,' a rich silky voice purred close to my left ear as i shook the moss of confusion clouding my judgment,i swerved on my stool and looked at the voice's owner, a pretty petite girl with big mischievous eyes and a sweet smile. 'Alyana?' i frowned, looking back to the girl in red. no , the man was right, it wasn't her, THIS this was Alyana , 'hey,' i eased back enjoying the way the soft glow of red light teased her skin and teeth.
'hey, ' she said again, 'are you okay?' she asked softly
'Alyana ,i...iam okay, how did you find me here?'
she chuckled that naughty sweet laugh 'aww you know me, i am all over the place. so what do you want to do, play boy?' she trailed her finger over my nose.
i shuddered. 'Alyana always did the unfathomable and she was doing it again, from calling me 'tiger' to 'ginger', sometimes 'sly' and now 'playboy'
'anything you want Aly. anything... i've missed you.'
she chuckeld again.
' i like this game,' she purred and took my hand, 'i will be your Aly tonight,' she teased.... she picked at my broken strings and played a mock love song...i danced to it,'come,' she said led me out...

my split personality issues!

2010-10-20T07:44:00.000-07:00

dont we all deal with this...two parts of us?

beautiful people syndrome

2010-10-12T08:49:00.000-07:00

you know last night, going to bed after a really great evening tete-a-teteing with a good friend about life issues, i mentioned the beautiful people syndrome. it just came to me and it fitted into the picture of our conversation then. i mauled over the issue we discussed till now and realized as i looked up this here article i was not way off the mark much...maybe in a different angle.
this is my take on beautiful people. i am kinda lazy writing out a whole gut wrenching regurgitation but i will highlight whats important.
i just realized that many beautiful people have a lot of pitfalls simply because they are...beautiful.
talking to a buddy some night with my same girl friend and this guy said something i felt was totally true about beautiful people, he said many beautiful people rely a lot on their physical appeal, so much they forget to up the game in their little grey cells...so result is pretty face- lousy conversationalist, no people skills, no dealing skills etc and the un-pretty people know they need a bonus in their life test to score the mark with people, in business etc. and a light bulb went off in my head as i said 'yeeeeaaah, you are right.'
then another time, i met a beautiful person who told me, completely confessed that he forgot to pull his swag on when he added assets to his already beautiful self because the girls got wild simply coz he was beautiful and 'modified' at that. then when he decided to be real again...he had to relearn his ABC'S with the women.
truth is...bitter truth is beautiful people get attention, wanted or unwanted. everyone wants to be with a beautiful person, hang around them, hire them, pay for their meals, bills and what have yous. its the burden of beauty that sadly, we , beautiful people forget can be a huge stumbling block if we dont master it.
i met a really beautiful person once, i simply loved being around him coz he was a fresh daisy. he always looked scrubbed, brushed up (even ragged) and he smiled like nothing i have seen on a guy, not forgetting he was sooo/ still is a people person, 'honeying and babeing everyone' finishing it off with a peck on the cheek. AUUUGGGHHHHH! but like i always is, i looked for flaws, (being a beautiful person myself, i know we don't have it all together) so we talked, had dinner a couple of times along with a buddy and realized slowly how unreal and shallow he was. superficial, not all together like he made it out to be. he was struggling, a hustler and gave a good friend of mine a lot of grief coz he was not as mature as he came off.plus the hugest put off was his love for being around beautiful women and just about passing up his really good pals, selling his soul to please a beautiful woman, that's when i put SERIOUS curfew on our friendship. he was too shallow for my liking.
and then again, isnt that just a beautiful people syndrome... the need for perfection, perfect beautiful people in our lives because we feel we are all that, and must be worshiped? so much that a pretty girl or really hot guy will be stunned (brutally) if they are turned away, rejected. i know someone who wailed for weeks in shock at how 'how could he say no... how could i beg?' because she had never know a day when she wasnt complimented, stalked and begged for by a gazillion guys...and this particular guy dint really care who or what she was. a real blow to the 'beauty ego.'
today at breakfast, i sat with a couple of guys at work and naturally the talk was sex and the argument was pretty girls versus un-pretty girls. he said 'its funny, a man will have a really un-pretty woman he can never leave because she knows how to do him right in every way, and he prolly will have left some real hottie coz she just aint all that, a lousy cook, lousy bedmate, everything!'
in the end , beautiful people need to work just as much as the unpretty to gain their status in society. maybe not as much-- but an inner boost on inner beauty on conversational skills, people skills, culinary skills, treat-women-right skills wolud go a looooong way in getting a larger number of them beauties off the singleton shelf. i love beautiful people. heck it, i am a beautiful person and i am just as much fighting off some of my own 'beautiful people syndromes'
because
in the end, no one wants to be a show piece, certain value and worth is worked for to top up the intrinsic beauty on the outside
so
...how beautiful are you on the inside?

currently on Where Beauty Lies....

2010-10-04T10:10:00.001-07:00

....reading the star book by Ben Okri after begging and pleading and cajoling the owner to lend it to me, i am almost bored. he writes like me, goes too deep too mystical that a clattered mind like mine now can't sieve through to drink in the depth and gloat in the vast imagination he opens up for me, so i am settling for some swashbuckling book... don't even recall the name.... i think i should raid my sister's library for the new 'goosebumps' entrants i added to her collection for her kids.

....been listening to a lot of music, music from way back, i mean way way back, Smokie Robinson way back, to a lot of Vanessa Mae, love her pop-orchestra style, to really really new talk group 1 crew new and Trey Songz and a lot of rock in between, thanks to 4shared.com ama download all my dream albums

....been working like a horse..no i lie, been pretend working, not wanting to go home..such that my house looks like it belongs to someone else not me. i don't even recognize it because it is just my bed 'n' breakfast shack.

...been encouraging myself, been asking questions, been healing, been hopping to believe, been closing up, been loving my nephews, been bonding with my boys and loving their diversity and their sincerity and enjoying their friendship. been alone in a crowd not wanting to show the brokenness, the pain, the betrayal, the ugliness of life...the tracks of my tears ( i like that...borrowed :))

....been fighting with my dad. i think this is over with now. we are fair and square. a huge load lifted off me chucking the truth in his face... an excruciatingly painful few days of hard raw bloody exchanges...left me spent...but the lines are finally drawn and i am glad for it.

....been almost indifferent and mostly afraid of reaching out; actually terribly AFRAID, making new friends being misunderstood. that explains, the long hours at work listening to music mostly, reading to better my show and sure as hell loving the silence within.

PS: sorry if i came off cold and aloof... I'm just not making friends now (you know who you are)try again next year, same time.

...still asking God that qn 'what did he mean when he said 'Lucy love, this is your year, you are gonna have a great year,' i am still wondering. did i miss something?

let my words be few

2010-09-20T10:22:00.000-07:00

i swear its not bglocks, but somehow i will only use pics to tell you whats up, lets start...now...
ive been a myriad of things in the past few...
from this here phase

to this here

yes, truly, this has been a constant experience for the last few....uuhhh...well ummm...you get the picture

and finally this!

'nuff said. i need to hit the sack!

once upon a trip 2002

2010-09-02T11:25:00.000-07:00

Like strangers__that we were,
A smile flashed
Few phrases passed
And different paths we took.

We could have been friends__ strangers less.
If we had let it:
But I held back
That burning question
That tore me apart
When you turned to go…

If for my safety__ I did not ask
Or for fear, I let it go
Then I was wise:

Probably once more we shall meet
And more for safety than for fear-
To lose one more soul-
I shall ask that question…
“What is your phone number?”

haiku

2010-08-31T09:56:00.000-07:00

Roses die, one by one
Fade into day as though it were night
Brothers remain__ water and blood.

mashed potatoes

2010-08-26T10:58:00.000-07:00

Sarah(not real name) beamed and glowed with such pleasure, she seemed to melt in the halo of marital bliss. no she wasn't yet married but she could not wait to be finally joined to Ben(not real name)who she had dated for three years. a week to her wedding, her best friend sat her down and inquired in all earnest whether she was sure, and absolutely certain she wanted to 'jump off the bridge' and she was beyond redemption on that front. the wedding was all bliss...three months later, the marriage was in shambles and in another four months... it was over.

Kate knew he was the one even before she met him in person and in 6 months they were married, five years later, she had moved back home and was moving in a totally different direction from him. he? well...i cant say.

Stella met him while she was in school and He was everything she wanted, the absolute prince charming and she..well...damsel in distress. three years and two children later, Mr prince charming wants her gone. you see Stella evolved, like we all do with time and she was now the damsel in control with the money, the means and the position, she needed no Charming and he felt threatened. the war began... and after another year it was over. so what went wrong? why did they get married?

i never want to get there and ask that question every waking moment of the 50 or so years i am married to someone.
at 21, i knew i wanted to be married at 25. i dreamed of the wedding, the dress, the party favours and above all things, the groom. that he would love me to pieces. he would love the things i loved and be upset about the things that upset me and hold me when i needed comfort, and be silly with me and...the Utopian list was endless.
i ever knew that this particular list would entail would entail the difficulties, the heartbreaks, the compromise; the reality that comes with trying to put up with a total stranger.

marriage counseling psychologists have said marriages are usually tested for longevity after they pass the two year mark, if they make it past two years and then five years... they have a 70 percent chance of survival. for many the 'love and goosebumps' diminish after two yrs. so if you based your marriage on the attraction ,you are in for a big shock when the honeymoon ends all too soon.

counselors advise on basing every marriage on friendship. the ability to be completely one's self with the other person since at the end of the day, when the abs and hips are gone, children grown and gone and there is nothing to look to, companionship will reign and you must have built a strong base for it called friendship,.

4 years and two heartbreaks later, i evolved and i did not want to get married so soon...maybe at 28...at 29...mishaps, almost-relationships and outright lustful men after one thing... i gave up...decided the if it happens , it happens and if it doesnt, well and good.
i got independent too and grew in it and found i did not need a man to give me money for anything,i could make my own decisions, i could dream and fulfill my dreams, kill cockroaches and rats. pull a pistol on a robber. carry and fix things in my house and take care of me if i fell sick. i found that i could ably do all the things my dad did for me and it wasn't just a man's work for me.
beside, i discovered that single hood was a state, like transit, that if when left...its an irreversible state,
you cant be single again after you are married or hitched and i embraced it, relished in it, the glow of selfishness , ambition shrouded me. my house, my job, my life, my time in my hands all for me to roam and grow in. i loved this place and i still do. and now and again i ask the question... why did i want to get married so soon?

well,. i was in love with the utopian idea of love and marriage and the need for a strong male anchor, someone to lean on, to be rescued and i wasnt thinknig of the complexities of two different back grounds coming together and trying to find common ground. and the in-laws!
don't forget the in-laws, who still view you as a threat/stranger/gold digger/ name it!and learning the wisdom to deal with it all.
i evolved and realized that after the sex that could take about 10 minutes, then what? what do you have to do for the rest of the 20 or so hours?
i also learned that i needed to be whole, complete not needing another person to complete me, i learned i got a lot more anchorage in God and i got more pluck and strength than a zillion guys (I've seen more cowardly men )
however with independence of my mind and life, marriage became a far cry. the idea of having to build from scratch, a relationship with a stranger, bring them into my life and eventually have them share it...just felt and still feels like a herculean task. a most risky most scary venture.
over a pot of tea, a visiting friend who is finally engaged, indulged me in the experience of meeting, dating, engaging and trying to mesh with someone different from you and trying to break away from the 'independent woman' mentality - not easy!independence opens you to a world of possibilities and hopes and dreams that are boundless and the older and more independent one gets the less appealing marriage becomes (thus the advise to get married young) and yet it aint that bad. with independence comes the ability to make mature calculated decisions based on well thought out choice other than circumstance and the dreamy need to be rescued or have sex or all the other wrong reasons. it becomes a deliberate (and painful) decision to say 'it is time to finally settle down, to stop flying solo and involve someone in my selfish pursuits,'
and no, she is not without fears and to the point of engagement, she is still open to the fact that anything could happen... and apparently it is healthy. it may hurt but if it ended, then we move on and carry the lessons with us.
now that... i cant handle.

her final words of wisdom got me contemplating , a nugget of wisdom she got from a married couple, 'marriage is like bringing two whole potatoes together, you first peel them, boil them, and when they are soft, mash them and in the end you cant tell one whole potato from the other... you just have a delicious serving of mash potatoes.'

its when you get married that who you are, your ideologies, your past, present, future plans are reshaped, broken,and finally merged so you fit in with your partner.

marriage isn't the wedding, it is the journey till death do you part.
and i am bidding my time. i can wait it out.

A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM...WITIHIN a nightmare

2010-08-23T06:10:00.000-07:00

has something ever happened to you, broken you so much, so much so that you feel that you are losing yourself and maybe you are worse than the person that literally drowns their sorrow in drink. you on the other hand do it in your head...but get lost in the winding web of uncertainties and pain, illusions, sudden fears and insecurities, and gaping wounds and scars...
and somehow, you feel totally helpless; as if robbed
as if stabbed
as if...whatever you were building was crushed by a wrecking ball and for some reason, insanity feels like a welcome thought, like a seductive urge, a call to just step into the other place where you are better off... out of the nightmare's grip...
but like i said, it feels like drunken blubber only that its happening in my head. all of it...the urge to cry, the urge to go crazy, the urge to phase out...to understand this...

life on the stage

2010-08-12T06:23:00.000-07:00

"hey jimmy have you heard, a picture paints a thousandwords that photographs dont tell at all." from a song i love

I love interviews. i love the thrill, the cold chill i get; experiencing another human being...they are all a composition of myriads of colours on a dull chroma key; bursting with life, the moments the lights go on and i help paste them there...memorable; forever... with the camera carrying these pieces, excerpts and whole stories told, through time forever and ever and i marvel. i experience them, love them, talk to them, indulge them, see the world through their eyes.

behind the cameras and lights, the papers glare at me. my gazillion instructors Telling me to check my mic, look into the right camera, sit close to the guest...
CLOSER.
closer STILL...
Not too close.
the sweat begins to trickle slowly down my left ear, around my hair line...no matter how cool the AC seems to be, the heat emanating from the studio lights overpower all that.
and i start to ponder what to say,
say hi...
tell the guest to look at me,
take their cards
go over their titles and names again and again...and Again
wait for the coordinator to shout out 'standby!'.
my mind like a whirlwind peruses through, shuffles the notes, the important details in my mind, then i remember something vital, really improtant that i dont have and i open my mouth to shout out 'get me.....!' my editor knows...
she smiles reassuringly, motions with her hand like a maestro bringing the tempo down slow with a motion of their skilled hands; the final piece of the music... i breathe in deep.
the cordinator comes in again to remind me what follows the interview, 'regional news...start with Kenya, then Banks TZ...' his voice fades. i am dazed.
he says it over and over again. i nod mechanically, swallow, breathe!
'standby!' comes my alert. i forgot which camera to look into, i shuffle, re-re shuffle the papers and smile- i am punched on!
i go through this everyday. and after 3yrs, you'd think it gets easier... no it doesn't. i cant afford to get comfortable because i want to be better than i was yesterday. the pressure, the edge,the flutter in my tummy, the ache in my shoulder, the strain in my head, the heat, the sweat on my brow... remind me that its the process I'm on and i 'll kick myself when i read 'it' wrong, pronounce wrong, phrase wrong, forget facts, hold too stiff, become unnatural, uninviting, unpleasant, nervous...or stop connecting with the viewers.
its crazy! after an hour on air, reading, interviewing, talking, connecting, conversating... i am exhausted, drained, spent.
the pressure peels off...
and i wait to be told what i did wrong or right.
three hours later, it starts all over again;
mounting pressure as i read, research, make the calls.
prep for another moment with the world, another humanbeing.

deciphering men...

2010-08-01T03:34:00.000-07:00

now i am no male-understanding -guru... if anything, they speak greek to me and i respond in Latin, so its a bad communication thing going for us...
i came across this article on yahoo and if there are any Latin speaking women that need a hand...i think this is way helpful

Do you understand “guy-talk?” Can you comprehend all the subtle — and not-so-subtle — nuances of his secret language? If you’re a woman, chances are the answer is: sort of, kind of, er, not really. “Men don’t always say what they mean,” says Scott Haltzman, M.D., a clinical assistant professor of psychiatry and human behavior at Brown University and author of The Secrets of Happily Married Men. “And sometimes we say what we mean but women understand it completely differently.” All in all, that means that cracking the code can be difficult — but not impossible. To give you a head start, we talked to relationship experts and real guys to shed some light on some of a guy’s most common lines — and what in the world he really means by them.

What he says: “We should hang out some time.”
What he means: “I don’t want to flat-out ask you on a date and risk rejection, so first I’m going to gauge your interest.”
Why he says it: “This is the safest way to go,” says Ron Karmel. “If she says ‘yeah’ and gives you her number, you know you’re in, but if she just says ‘yeah’ and does nothing — you know it’s a no-go.” And with the male ego the way it is, this is the preferred way for him to find out. Says Haltzman, “It hurts to be rejected, so asking a woman out this way gives her a chance to pull away without the guy being embarrassingly turned down.”
What he says: “I really like your shoes.”
What he means: “I really like you.”
Why he says it: Granted, he could genuinely like your shoes. But if he says this during the early stages of dating, it also likely means he’s physically attracted to you — but doesn’t want to come right out and say it and seem like a dog. Ty Marciniak claims that this is one of the first things he says when he’s into a girl. “It boosts her confidence, but it also shows her I’m fashionable and sweet,” he says. “She’ll notice that I didn’t come right out and compliment her legs or something.” Which is, of course, what he really was complimenting in the first place. Get it?

What he says: “Maybe we should take some time off from each other — you know, take a break.”
What he means: “Maybe I’m better off keeping my options open.”
Why he says it: Seems harsh, but it’s common: “This kind of statement is driven by the man’s fear of hurting the woman or by wanting to have it both ways — having her without committing,” explains Alon Gratch, Ph.D., a clinical psychologist and author of If Men Could Talk. Problem is, women often take “the break” at face value. Trust me, if a guy is crazy about you, he’ll want to spend as much time with you as possible, period.

What he says: “I am listening!”
What he means: “I’m listening, but I really don’t want to get into a long, emotional discussion right now.”
Why he says it: When a guy zones out, women generally interpret that to mean he’s shut her off. More likely he’s just overwhelmed. “Men process verbal information better when it’s direct and to the point,” says Haltzman. Scott Borchert agrees. “When I say this, it usually means I just wish she’d get to the point sooner,” he says. One way around this is to ask him for his advice — guys love to fix problems — or to make sure he’s primed for a marathon talk session. So rather than launching right in, say, “This story’s kind of involved — can you listen now or should we talk later?”

What he says: “You’re just too good for me.”
What he means: “I need out of this relationship.”
Why he says it: “I’ve said that many times, but not once have I meant it,” admits Ron. “What I meant was I needed an out in the relationship, but I wanted to make her feel good about it.” Another popular alternative to this is the, “You deserve someone better than me” line. So why can’t guys just come out and tell you the truth? Unless you’re new to the planet Earth, you may have noticed men aren’t big on having talks — particularly breakup talks. In fact, they’ll say anything to avoid them, such as buttering you up so you don’t chew them out. “Men don’t go to places they’re afraid of,” says Gratch. “We don’t like to go where we might have to open up about feelings.” Did he just say feelings? Blech!

What he says: “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
What he means: “I am this close to saying the L-word, but I can’t bring myself to say it just yet and when I do say it, I want to be sure you’ll say it back.”
Why he says it: Ron calls this an “in-between line” — it’s a warm-up act to “I love you,” and it tests the waters to see if she’s feeling the same way. For women, talking about your emotions and exposing your vulnerabilities is a way to bond with another person, “but men don’t view exposing your vulnerabilities as a positive,” says Haltzman. “They don’t want to appear weak.” That’s why words like “thinking” and “falling” come in very handy — they give him an out. But they also allow him to express something meaningful in a way only he understands. Hopefully, now you will, too.

by jonathan small

memoires of a single lady part 4

2010-07-31T20:36:00.000-07:00

The thing abut being broke when you are single, is you are never completely alone out in the cold, at least not for me since I have a family that wont mind me coming back home for a while. That has proved to be both a blessing and a curse
The curse there in is that I go back to your old room and find that it has been turned into some antique store or my little brother has pimped it up with posters with some bizarre hip-hop artists and football stars with unpronounceable names; In addition to this loud proclamation of new room ownership, the room is wired up with speakers and woofers making the room resonate like some underground discotheque.
The curse runs deeper- my parents and even the good old maid don’t treat me like I am four years older since I left home. Then I figure it’s because somehow I make it a point to visit as regularly as possible.
My stern yet loving father still frowns when I walk in at 9 o’clock and I remember that as a teenager I thought he hated me but 10 years later, I actually realize he loved me and still does. I also notice he catches himself about to scold me for coming home late and I realize I need to adjust so as not to give the old man a heart attack. But what can I do? I am broke with no gas in my car, no money to feed myself well enough, just about an ample amount to get me to work and back home for the next two weeks. Its both a blessing and a curse, I get to be sixteen again with all its pros and cons.
Suddenly there is a list of ‘not to do’s’ while at my parents. I can’t come after 10pm; I can’t bring any male friends’ home, lights out at 10.30pm. No male friends over, note the plural. My parents are very devout Christians that believe a single woman shouldn’t leave home until they are married and they mustn’t engage many male friends but must relate to only one for marriage purposes.
They also believe spirits are brewed in hell for hell dwellers so unless my friends and I can stand non-alcoholic wine, we may go to hell to guzzle our hellish brew from there.
There is also the unwritten law on dressing. It’s a sin to wear certain clothes and strut around the house with it, not that it’s a no-no, but the looks my mother will give me will shrivel the garments off me. Oh there are the movies, nothing over 15 is permissible. For Godssake I am 29, they don’t seem to see that!
But like I said, I’m broke and I must comply with all these rules
Then there is one more ‘curse’ I dreaded- the fact that my older sister got married young and I seem to drag that process- I always expect ‘that’ who are you seeing? Question so I practiced a variety of answers ranging from Jesus Christ to what did you say?
Then there is my little brother who, when we are together, I truly become sixteen, hitting him upside his head for suggesting am feminist or politely putting it, ‘looking at women.’ An abominable utterance in my father’s house! He will be constantly hunkering on about these weird artists and dressing up like a ‘g’ form the ‘hood’, for lack of a better phrasing and warning me not to mess up his room while I take over it. For an hour or two on my arrival, there is a mini quarrel between us over the room issue then comes settling in for the next two weeks and I become the innocent sixteen that has never kissed or dated anyone. It makes me wonder if I’ll never let my kids grow up like my parents have failed to see me as grown up.
Most times they hope I will not go back to the house I rent with a host of excuses like, there is everything here why must you rent? You can always come back home.
And my usual response is, I am old, I can’t live at home. This is replied to with a patronizing look and a ‘hrmp!’ from mum.
What’s wrong with young people these days? In our day…
And it goes on and on everyday.
I am kind of thankful I am here for a short while until my salary comes in and I’m free again.

soul soul melancholic soul!

2010-07-27T08:00:00.001-07:00

been listening to so much soul today, beat, tired and in need of a tall glass of lemon water with an umbrella, a lone island, the sound of the sea crushing up against the shore lulling soul music on its waves...aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

feels as good as ice cold water going down slow a parched throat..

anyway onto soul music,
i plugged into Seal's Soul collection , an 11 track album full of all them old surprises from 'people get read' to the famous James brown's 'Its a man's man's man's world,' i was totally blown away
(of course Carsozy made it a point like he always does to pull at my head phones and call me ancient for listening to such music.
he was totally clueless when i plugged in the Gypsy Kings later, his face was a delight to watch!)
so anyway , in a really soul melancholic mood, i was healed just letting the porous seamless melody rock me to total wholeness.
Seal's soul album is a master piece and he, the skilled craftsman , then i came across this hot bird, her album comes out next month, going to look out for it, besides, she is sooooo hot, couldnt help but post it
here for all the world to oogle upon!

then i listened to 'yesterday' the acapella version by Boys 2 men and a spanish version...i got all wooshy mooshy and nostalgic and decided to keep the lyrics on this here dashboard, just so i can read them again... i miss something in my yesterday but right now, my head is bogged with too much i cant place it...thats why i need that island retreat...to try find it....
for now...heeeerrrrrrreeeee
rock with me!

Yesterday...
All my troubles seem so far away
Now it seems as though their here to stay
Oh I believe in yesterday
Suddenly, I'm not half the man I use to be
There's a shadow hanging over me
Oh yesterday came suddenly
Why she had to go, I don't know
She wouldn't say, she wouldn't say
I said something wrong now I long for yesterday
Yesterday...
Love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh I believe in yesterday
Oh why she had to go I don't know
She would not say
I said something wrong
How I long for yesterday
Yesterday...
Love was such an easy game to play
Now I need a place to hide away
Oh I believe in yesterday
I believe in yester...day

Was so far away
Oh yesterday was far away
And I know I can't turn back
'Cause yesterday is gone

okay i am thankfully for one thing, Carsozy my music genre hater found common ground with me in 'seventh day slumber, ' the gospel rock band... i am so in love with the lead singer, his voice, his weird beard, his whole If!

the dreamer

2010-07-24T22:12:00.000-07:00

'there are two types of dreamers:those that fall asleep in the dead of night , and slip into dreamless sleep and those that rise up to dream of a better place than where they lay their head. i am that last dreamer.'

the dreamer weaves his dream
deftly, carefully...
eyes shut in somnolent concentration
rocking back and forth,
in another world
where he walks on streets of gold
amongst pillars of craven stone
rich colossal heights
and in that place...
the world is his,
he decks the cards,
he wins the bets
he scores on the tiles....

in quiet anticipation
the dreamer weaves his dream
spurred on by the deep desire
the frozen resolve
to escape the midmorning mayhem

the mundane 8 to 5pm.
the hand to mouth appeal
so he dreams..
in somnolent concentration
his fingers flying
across the keyboard,
his heart
steeped deep in
the dream of his soul

close shave

2010-07-16T08:12:00.000-07:00

i cant believe that i was not anywhere in either vicinities Kyadondo rugby club or the Ethiopian restaurant but i have never been as traumatized as i was this week. taking a taxi has not come as naturally without thinking my every move or even thinking 'what if...' and so on...going out....the last ever thought on my mind...i am cutting loose and running for my life as if.
the papers have been filled with stories of the blast. ALL the news from Aljazeera, CNN, Citizen, and our own local stations have aired the bomb blasts for all the world to see. and, i have grieved and cried with those that have lost loved ones, i have imagined what it would have been like had it been different, i have 'what iffed' looked at the before and after pics of the football fans and wished i had some sand of time or some time machine to turn back time and make it different, restore life to those that lost it, bring back those passed on to their loved ones, have life as usual, Kampala as loud and bustling with life as usual...the sad gloom that hung in the air all week was so heavy it was hard to shake off. it was so easy to cry to stare at the pages of the papers and see bodies mangled together in a bloody mess and feel your heart break; mine atleast, or hear of a friend, so young who passed, or sit back and observe the people, sad, withdrawn, heavy.
its been a baaaaaaad week.
its been harder to be at the top of the news, reading the stories, watching them and listening for the next move.where else was a bomb discovered? asking which journalist passed? i had heard from journalism and news gathering training that trauma is something we live with as journalists, i did not think it would hit me this bad...
well, so winding up the week, i thought i would blog about a few stories of people that survived by a breadth...they most probably would have been dead

1. Sam (not real name) had a fiesty moment winding up work and decided to go straight to the rugby club to watch the game. he is the happening type and all roads led to Kyadondo rugby club for him that Sunday night. the grounds were covered for miles with highly excited people waiting to see Paul the Octopus' predictions come to light. while in the fray of the moment, close to end of first half, the nokia 6400 vibrates in his pocket and he walks off to pick it...1,2,3,4,5 seconds...then boom! and Sam was far from the vicinity, far enough to escape the worst...only a few shrapnel in his jacket to show where he had been...to hell and back.

2. Anita (not real name) badly wanted to see this match and along with her girlfriend they made their way to Kyadondo,they bought a couple of drinks and the match seemed to flow as fast as the drinks, so fast, Anita felt the call in her bowels but held on, 'till half time' she kept telling herself..and barely had half time clocked than she walked out to the Ladies to take a short call. it was a tense game neither side had scored, her mind mauled on what next when she heard the faint thud of what sounded like fireworks. shock greeted her as she walked out to her seat only to find everyone around her, her best friend dead.

3. Carl (not real name) won a ticket for the game on a radio show, he had been dreaming of this day, he could not wait and if it meant sneaking at work to listen to radio and calling, he would do it and he did. he hopped his girlfriend could come along too but the card admitted only one person.so he succumbed to it and made haste come sunday to watch the match. since his girlfreind had not been able to make it, he assured her he would pick her up after the first half sothey could watch it together some place else. half time clocked and found Carl on his way out of the rugby club only to be stopped in his tracks by the sound of a loud ...BOOM! but he was well out of danger, far out of its reach.

4. David (not real name) it wasnt the football much that took him to the rugby club, it was a bet to go out and drink a certain number of beers because he had gone on a sabbatical when it came to beer. his friends felt it was an opportunity to get him off his 'fast' again and suggested the Rugby club. he agreed to it and they sat, started on sodas but constantly shoved him beers and finally at close to half time he accepted...it was at this point after his friends had constantly watched him and nudged him to stop keeping his beer on the floor that he finally reached down...bent over to pick his bottle and...the blast went off! BOOM! ...when he sat up beer in hand...everyone around him was dead

do you have a story? do you know anyone who survived? tell me your story.

nice weekend

no words.....

2010-07-12T08:16:00.000-07:00

the bomb blasts.... i wish i could say more... i am still trying to get into the head of the people that did it and i can almost picture the plan up to the attack...and i cant believe how heartless it seems and yet to them, it is a mission, it is something they had to do. when the shock is done, i may write a story on this angle....
but for now Al shabab have owned up to it,
i hope your loved ones are not part of this disaster

lessons from the world cup.

2010-07-05T05:22:00.001-07:00

after the weekend with Ghana losing, i bowed out of the world cup officially, i shall depend on hearsay and resort to all the soaps i missed out on, the movies and late night music shows (straka here i come!) may come back to watch the ads but otherwise its over for me and i have derived a few lessons that i hope by 2014 Africans shall be more 'enlightened' on the pitch

1. put your best foot forward
do you know a left footer scored that penalty shot that took Uruguay to the semi-finals this weeekend. yeeeeessss! so a word to all ye africans, get some left footers and handed people on the team you never know how handy they could come.

2.carry enough kleenex and other tissue
emotions run a mock! i didnt think calm stable unmoved me could get caught up in the euphoria and pain like i did, stumping my feet screaming, and going home tearfully scorned! well i bet Maradonna did more than me, he is the epitome of all emotion on the pitch, if he aint kissing players for a job well done , he is crying for an absurd loss 4-0 eeeeeh! that also shocked me!

3. job security
no, not mine. i just figured that the worst most unfair job to take is a coaching job...Dunga, Brazilian ex-coach will let you know how it goes...okay i cant keep it in...really if this aint the most insecure , most daunting job....plse text me and let me know of others!

4.be prepared
surely africans could have done better than we did, was it a lack of confidence or there was gross unfairness on the pitch? eh/ but what do we call hiring a coach 2 months before the world cup...WORLD CUP! not some grass plucked friendly btn village mates that can kick balls in the back yard ...Cote D'ivoire...it is called un-seriousness!

5. Despite the loss, Ghana was gureeeaaaaat!
they gave these uruguayan chaps a run for the ball...it was bloody out there, tension, red cards elbowing, from 1st half, second half, extra time and then....penalties at least Africa did better than Argentina....that was my consolation, the win was in penalties...so there is hope for us with more organization, boost of esteem i think and 2014 may be different!

despite bowing out, i am still waiting out to see who takes the cup!

beautiful people

2010-06-29T07:44:00.000-07:00

i first saw Travis in an Aids documentary and i kept trying to figure him out, i actually watched the documentary coz of him....i loved his lanky bowed over self, his tattoos, his as if out of this world if, his piercings, his soft 'spokenness,' generally i thought he was beautiful...thought for a moment he was some drug addict telling his story...but he looked musical and all, then it hit me he could be some sort of hiphop star...then i kinda didnt look much but he lingered somewhere in the recesses of my mind, then i watch 'billionaire' his song with another beautiful man, Bruno Mars and i watched it again and a again...(yes the funk, raggae, hiphop fusion is great) but the boys are soooooooo beautiful....i am still trying to acertain whether Bruno is gay or not and i didnt pay him much attention when he did that collabo with B.O.B, in my mind i kept thinking he was Lloyd ( i love Lloyd's as if tenor voice) so i i didnt bother looking it up but... for this week or so....i think these two guys are totally beautiful.... they just look nice... i watch the video more coz i am gawking at them, Lord!

just take a look, a looooongggg look

chasing firelies

2010-06-16T09:20:00.000-07:00

"every person we encounter in our pilgrim walk called life can in the end be anything to us according to our own dealings with them; but the constant fact remains, they will always be strangers less"

she smiles at me, beautiful baby girl balancing on her left slim hip. she looks like one who has fought and weathered the storms of love and come out strong...still fighting/ her dark curly long hair parted at the side and combed out in a huge afro bounces lightly around her head like a halo.her huge eyes regard me...soft, not pleading, almost blank... i can only hear the slight strain in her voice.
her tone.
'cherie, how are you, ' she greets me her accent; a beautiful musical Kiyarwanda-french mix.
i smile and respond slightly, hopping not to disrupt my neighbours heads bowed in obeisance and prayer. i on the other hand, dont really know how to tell God whats on my mind, my heart... i can feel it...26 letters cant decipher it.
i light up.... but i am worried....
she does not hesitate to let it out like she did the time i met her on the way to work and in torrents of pain mingled with faith and strength..she told me of her life, the baby, the negligent boyfriend...the job issues...money problems...life was hard.
life is hard
'cherie, he is in jail....he was with a woman. she died in his bed,'
i gasp
and in my mind memories play a sad little tune...
i see the fireflies... i recall his face...when i knew him seven years ago...when i did not know her....
when he was light carefree, ganja smoking, engaging, warm....drunk and wore his heart on his sleeve, his pain...
i felt sorry for him.
sorry and angry. that was then.
i prayed he would change.
when we watched the fireflies and his childlikeness, warmed, authentic persona shone through, i thought there was hope...
then i met him again

five years later and his girlfriend pregnant.
he came to church. i hugged him, i was glad... i thought he was back...
she stayed...he went back, frolicking chasing fireflies

she smiles faintly, a cold hardness masks the beauty of her soul. strained within by the pain of loving a gypsy and wriggles her soft cold fingers that i had grasped in my shock out of my hand. 'maybe its time for him to come home. i believe so.... let me come back, ' she whispers

i gasp again, sad, pained for her suffering
and there and then, i find direction for my prayer....
for her to see that he will never change... she needs to let him go
let him chase his fireflies

world cup at UBC AND SIGNS OF OLD AGE

2010-06-12T07:50:00.000-07:00

a sneak peak from some of UBC'S personalities
apart from this here ad

susan Namasaba of the news and Good Morning Uganda in her cote d'ivore jersey....

href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a1Z2grxNjNo/TBOhO-SU0JI/AAAAAAAAAW8/vjjT5Dez8-I/s1600/IMAGE_058.jpg">
sports analyst aisha and the rest, our DMD, PATRICK lUWANDAGA, ETC
href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a1Z2grxNjNo/TBOhOsbulAI/AAAAAAAAAW0/KyII8L4o41A/s1600/IMAGE_056.jpg">

i have concluded that old age feels just the way i am feeling right now.world cup started and i was all up in euphoric arms along with the UBC staff inspite of me, though i wasnt whooping and screaming, i was bubbling up with excitement and finally decided to take it out and take pictures.
i surprised myself further by watching the matches and intend to do so the whole season! if that isnt old age someone slap me! i mean i could vividly remeber the low groan and continuous mumblings we forever had coz tv would be prohibited except for the matches when we were growing up. my father just would not compromise on that...and now....i actually anticipated the games.
another sign of my aging phenomenal is the serenity and comfortable state i reign to when i watch the news! i love news! 20 something years later of having to roll my eyes and stomp out of the living room in protest when the news came on...is so 1980 something
oh and i take more tea...
anyhow the highlights of the world cup...at ubc, that morning, yesterday

t

THESE PICS GOT ME FEVER HIGH EXCITED

enjoy the world cup season y'all!

shadowfeet and speed!

2010-06-09T21:06:00.000-07:00

when the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
when the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees
when time and space are through
I'll be found in you (chorus of shadowfeet)

My newest hit list has three artists Brooke Fraser (you need to listen to Shadowfeet and Arithmetic!), Colbie Caillat and Maxwell (black summer night album, the first release)

shadowfeet 's been buzzin in my head for hours now, i play it over and over again on my phone and there is a sudden release of so much feeling i cant possibly begin to describe... i just know this sort of feeling an euphoric sensation of longing for i don't know what but whatever it is makes me nostalgic and i want to cry somewhat....
the bike ride...on Heroes day.
i anticipated the day and the time...my friend, this gentleman, decided to give me something to write home about... he bikes, loves his bike, Says he has such a connection with it, like those Pandora people and their 'USB- connected' relationship with their flying, riding creatures' yeah, like that.
i could feel what he meant by that, knees pressed against the sleek shinny body of that baby.
so he took me home on his bike, upon my request and constantly jested on the paparazzi catching up with me being on a bike.
i could understand why my younger sister said 'yes' to a bike guy she did not like after an euphoric ride on a bike around the bloke(next day she said no, when the dust had settled)
it took so much in me,(plus the bags i was carrying) not to raise my hands way above my head and scream WUUUUHHHHHUUUUU! and he thought i was crazy when i said i wanted to scream.
city lights glared and blurred before my googled eyes and the feel of the wind in my hair, my face felt like a new lease of freedom i had never experienced and i so never wanted it to end.
he artfully and skill fully toured the road, owned the seat, the wheels blue neon lights flickered and lit up the tyres from the back and front. i sat, hunched behind him looking over his helmeted head, grinning stupidly at times or simply breathing in deeply eyes shut....
we talked about bikes above the roaring wind
i tried not to scandalize him with a muffled scream.

and shadowfeet stealthily crept into the spaces of my mind spilling over and right out of my mouth in a loud hum...

Walking,stumbling on these shadowfeet
toward home,a land that i've never seen
I am changing: less and less asleep
made of different stuff than when i began
and i have sensed it all along
fast approaching is the day

and i raised just one arm, held on to his jacket with the other,
got lost in the moment, and listened to his amazed chuckle, almost missed his question above the roaring harmonious blend of the wind and his bike, 'are you sure you are enjoying it,'
'yes!' i sure screamed it.
and we were home
i was both glad for the ride and totally disarmed by his politeness (which i mentioned often) and his generosity to actually take me on the bike when i asked. it was kind.
the speed was incredible!
and when i dismounted he took time to explain the parts of the bike to me and ask again (because i was still so google eyed) 'you really liked this coz i feel... normal' he shrugged
'yes!' i lilted,' its a different feel from taking a boda boda, maybe its psychological but no...that baby was wonderful.

like the guy he was , he brushed up the side a bit, confessed his love for this Bike and how he could never let it go.. i listened mesmerized...feeling their connection. it was beautiful....
shadowfeet played again as i watched him ride away

heres distraction buzzing in my head
saying in the shadows it's easier to stay
but I've heard rumours of true reality
whispers of a well-lit way

when the world has fallen out from under me
I'll be found in you, still standing
when the sky rolls up and mountains fall on their knees
when time and space are through
I'll be found in you

memoirs of a single gal part 3

2010-06-04T05:02:00.000-07:00

My sister and her husband have a ritualistic honeymoon thing every last weekend of the month and at times I offer to look after their dotting naughty handful of babies, Tessa and Levi. however this weekend was one of those code named ‘spoil- me- silly,’ weekends only to have my plans ruined by my sister calling at 4pm Friday afternoon to inform me that they will drop the kids over at mine later in the evening for the weekend because our parents would be unavailable attending to a funeral in the village. That left me; besides, the kids seemed to want to be with me.
I felt my world collapse. Don’t get me wrong, I do love my niece and nephew, rowdy as they are but I just had other plans. All my excuses fell on deaf ears and my sister turned on her magical manipulative phrases, ‘I sacrifice so much for you, cant you do this for me. I will leave you some money too, if you are worried about that….’ That alone always takes me on a guilt trip.
Pouting in anguish, I told her when I got married she’d pay double for my trouble, quintuplets inclusive. She knew this was a grudging ‘yes,’ but a yes all the same. I’m forced to head home early by 6pm because the kids will be dropped within the hour. Too lazy to cook, I had bought pizza and it hit me a 2year old Levi would not manage the tough dough although I knew Tessa loved Pizza in spite of her parent’s disapproval of her eating it. I still groaned within for canceling a movie night out with two of my workmates and even coffee earlier on with a good buddy Alex, from way back. I wanted to throw a tantrum.
Oh well, for family’s sake.
At 6.45 pm, my sister and hubby show up in my living room running me through the usual instructions I get every other month. Tessa was already heading for my dressing table for her favourite lipstick and nail polish, while Levi was climbing all over me like I was some tree in a bid to get some attention. It began to dawn on me how much l love my sister; two little kids is a full time job! It sort of felt nice holding the little bundle of joy in my arms and for a moment my single life felt like a far off dream. I bid the couple farewell and wished them a fabulous ‘honeymoon’.
The weekend turned out to be more hectic than I thought. I turned on plan B and even asked Alex to make it to my place when he could on Saturday afternoon so I could have more than a 'goo-goo gaa-gaa' conversation. My Saturday morning sleep- in, non-existent, no house parties and everything else in-between, I needed to brace myself for this.
Now this was exactly what my weekend turned out to be.
Bathing babies and yelling at them occasionally to stay out of the bathroom and away from water when I was done with them. Begging and pleading with them not to follow me around especially to the kitchen lest they got burned. I dreaded feeding time; especially when Levi got moody and wouldn’t eat for two hours, splashing food all over me, him and anywhere his little legs took him. Meanwhile I ‘d have to develop those ‘mummy eyes’ behind my head to watch out for Tessa who would be fascinated with the fan, the television, my makeup and clothes and even kitchen ware, chattering away in her limited syllables and doom on me if I once did not answer.
Bed time was another task, with trying to get Levi to sleep and bearing him wake up every two or three hours when I would be required to give him his bottle. As if this wasn’t draining enough, having Tessa scream from the room I’ve put her in, too afraid to sleep alone. Suddenly sleep has become a luxurious option because I must watch over two children I am sandwiched between each fighting to snuggle closest to me till I hardly have any arm room. This is to go on for two nights. Remember? Pudgy arms and legs thrown all over my face and chest making me start occasionally and even yelp in pain when my teeth are crashed in by little feet. I pray frantically that they won’t wee. At times I am lucky, most times, not.
The sun woke up with these little angels and they made it a point their dear aunt was up as well, groggy with sleep because they demanded to be fed, cleaned and played with. Something I can’t keep up too well with because I am exhausted wondering if motherhood is this expensive. Alex’s arrival later in the evening helped me escape to my room to catch a few winks. I knew he would manage it till I was awoken with a loud wet kiss planted clumsily on my lips by Levi. His little round face smiling down on me and all my regrets melted into gratitude. It made me realize why I often swore not to take the kids in again till the next month or so when I catch myself saying yes to my sister again!

Friendship True: a toast to you!

2010-05-31T04:31:00.000-07:00

it was the only available plane flying out to London, he told me with a chuckle about the strike and how he would have to take the tube when he got to London to the East side where he lived, 'about an hour's ride,'
and all i could think of was how i would miss him.
i am reading the little book he got me, 'the 14th tale,' i took forever to read it. l loved the birthday card he sent with it, totally artsy, totally me and something he most definitely knew i would like. now that he is leaving, i cant imagine how close we got, and how far the gap between the years seemed filled up in a month's reunion. i am still amazed that he called me his friend, that he honored and considered me a girl among the girls in school back then... the only one that treated him like a someone, not a geek, his soul mate, his friend, his helper, his role model and i am amazed at this revelation. i hardly felt i had done much.
i loved his romanticism, his flair for the arts, his dreamy romeo 'if' and his poetry.....Lord! his poetry.... and when we talk about it over coffee at Javas, he continually says the same thing,' you were a better poet, still are!'
'no you were, ' i jab back and it goes on and on.
it's been about 11 years since we last saw each other and now and again we communicated and he oozed all this poetry saccharine sweet praises like before ... i brushed it off, thinking, oh he is just being his usual self.
i thumb through the hilarious beautifully poetic penned play '14th tale' and laugh recalling him telling me i would enjoy it, i am reading it a second time and my emotions echo his very words, ' i wish you were here watching this with me. i thought you would love the play, so i bought you the book.' and i do, i love it.
i go back and forth over the last 28 days he was around, like a tape played, rolled back, loosened and reeled back to juts and spurts of memorable events.
i always waited for an hour before he showed up at Javas, our meeting place and his bored light agitation for it,'its always Javas! don't you go anywhere else?'.... and we talked about everything, he liked to try tick me off because he complained i never got ticked off. we argue about God, sex ideologies then dabble in the arts and who we really are. essentially finding out that our, 'outside looking in,' personalities are quite similar; black sheep, outside the norm, weird, different; it describes us and i feel safe all over, finding someone that understands how i feel at times.
We talk about music on the way home, he laughs as we swing from Maxwell, his newest album, heartbreaking revelation of his sexual orientation to Baba Maal's great music and Banksy who i google and read about in awe... and says, ' i should marry you!,' i laugh and say the usual thing, the phrase he says he will miss from me, 'don't be stupid, don't say stupid things like that!' then I scowl.
the time i got sick at Javas and he dropped me home...it was sweet.
when i was too lazy to go out to get airtime from work ad asked him to send me some.
the times he could have dropped me off to the park and took me home any how.
the time he picked up the bill when i thought i should have, we had agreed i would , hadn't we?
the times he naughtily tells me to pick up the bill.
and the long chats.. him often talking, i guess its what you get for being a shrink's friend.
the times we argued about his priorities, ideologies and the girl he loved , 'show her more love, dude, be straight, be serious,' i recall loosely telling him.
giving him advise, assuring him of her commitment, listening to his reasons, trying to be the 'doctor love' between them.
i smile, leafing through the pages, a tear strains my cheek,and in a huge way he's been my brother, accidentally stumbling on a truth that set me free...
he listening to me cry on phone over this bloke, this dude i thought liked me...apparently was like all the men, wanted a 'chaw" ( Liz help me out!) and hit the road for not getting it without signing out officially. typical!
i was crying a second time last night when i said bye... i could not help myself....
it was strange too, in only a few weeks i had felt like i had a real chum with all his quacks and our little arguments on love and his girlfriend to his ideologies, in him was a beautiful safe haven we often look for in people: friendship true. His girl was calling me telling me he had left her with something for me... i was touched...hearing him tell me again he had left her with something for me and him saying...' i don't remember half the things i have done when i came to Uganda previously like all the memories stamped in me this month,' i smile through my tears. he tries to tease me out of it, i laugh a bit.
and let him know in my most crucial month, he was there...an unexpected friend when i needed one most, with life's challenges up at me, he listened, advised, counseled and protectively assured me, 'i will call you when i get to London but don't mention that bloke's name again, forget about him...he messed with a good thing,'
and i am glad for his patience, his tireless kindness, his goodness, his congeniality, his warmth, his great personality. i thank him for everything and we go back and forth on it too, him saying no, he owes me more, he thanks me more...
finally, i sigh, glad as he says that its always a fulfilling thing to meet someone that intricately understands you, is like you and goes through the same things you go through. i am totally grateful for a re--ignited friendship.

will miss you much and though you will be back in about three years... i am glad we had a month of reunion that helped me discover true friendship out there is not a fairy tale in my head...it does so exist.

memoirs of a single girl pt 2

2010-05-27T05:14:00.000-07:00

I moved house today…
I hate moving! I lose so much; break half my newly acquired glasses or favourite accessories I got from my graduation party! I can’t even tell my elder sis I lost the silver ware she got for me from the Netherlands, she will go nuts.
Bother shifting!
But that’s not the only problem. I hate to live small, it’s got to be big and beautiful and the good Lord answered my extravagant prayers and gave me ‘big, beautiful and so extremely expensive.’ I’d be living through my teeth every month
So problem number two arises, housemate!
My cousin Anita was bitterly complaining to me about her housemate the other day, a total lounger was what she called her, I feel like I am looking after the house and two grown adults, my total lounger housemate and I! She can’t even take out the trash or buy tea leaves!
The nightmare of incompatible housemates, but then again, how do you know you are compatible?
I decided to take the stray high way and opted for a male house mate; my sister frowned upon it and told me I would evidently be showing some signs of a live-in male mate nine months later…anything can happen!
Loyola, my loyal 22 diva friend told me to opt for a gay house mate to be safe, she’d read it in magazines and thought I was so cool to take up such a wayward stance. I did not see the hustle about it. Nine out of ten of the people I talked to told me it was a tricky thing to do so I took it, I was curious and wanted the challenge. I picked one soon enough through a good friend Ken, he tells me his buddy was looking for a place to stay, he had just come in, been posted to Kampala from Jinja and was looking for a house. I jumped at the opportunity, after all I had accountability spelt ‘KEN.’I got to meet his friend Felix two days later with Ken, we wasted no time with much formalities, went straight to look at the house, he liked it and sizing him up, I figured we would be okay.
I was so wrong.
I did not think that two months later I would be calling Ken to apologize for throwing out his friend coz I realized he partied way too much. Well yes, he paid his part of the bills…but after I had reminded him and the house was a pig sty 247 and the dumb excuse was I am footing half the bill anyway…then the girls and boys! And his girlfriend who was becoming third resident! I could not stand the filth, noise pollution, his sound stereos and the full house every evening I got home from work… I could not stand being a prisoner to my bedroom no more, it had to end, I had to break free!
I told Loyola about it and she thought I needed to just learn to live with him, my other older friends encouraged me to throw him out, my sis gave me an I-warned-you admonition and Ken patted me on the back and told me to let a guy be a guy! Not on my cheque, no!
So on this particular day my PMS was raging high and all my diplomacy flew fresh out of the window, I walked…did I say walked? No, I stormed into his room like a hurricane; I can’t even remember half the stuff I told him, I just know it was overdue pent up exasperation. His room reeked of booze and smelly socks; I wondered how his girlfriend who was doubled up in his duvet thought of it all, but the haze of drunkenness that enveloped them was a mirage the moment I was through. In two hours he was out with his woman. Ken called me later to plead on his behalf. It fell on deaf ears, I simply said he’s stuff should be out in the next 6 hours and that was it… I am eating the humble pie, and considering a smaller place than share again.

memoirs of a single gal part 1

2010-05-23T22:32:00.000-07:00

Its not like me to say this, I usually leave it to my friends but… I think, I met Mr Right today! Cross my heart! I cannot tell yet because; I want to be sure about it all.
His overcoat was drenched in the heavy showers that were flooding the city late in the afternoon and I had my craving for coffee and a fat juicy donut. That doesn’t mean I am off my diet… I had answered to the craving and the Good Lord brought Mr. Right right in front of me. The beauty of coincidences.
He walked into the café shaking the irritating drops off his coat whilst removing it and rolling it easily into a ball. Without the coat, he looked even more every inch Mr. Right to me! He had on a black blazer with a grey hemming draped over a cool white and black checkered shirt, his trousers adored his long athletic limbs and the soft classy leather shoes he was wearing embraced his apparently long feet. I am in a near 8th heaven gawking at this incredibly gorgeous Adonis.
Then he caught my gaze and I involuntarily kicked myself under the table jabbing my calf in the process with my long stiletto pumps. I hated the ghastly shoes but I am glad I wore them today; they give me a rather savvy tasteful look. I checked myself unconsciously, and decided I was seated right; one leg draped over the other, in a very dignified poise, surely it was no surprise he actually looked my way- well, except for the fact that I had been staring and he probably felt watched.
A smile played faintly around his eyes and lips as he weaved his way through the café tables to find himself a seat. I don’t know why I kept staring, but I did; So much that I failed to realize that he was actually making his way to me. It is when he asked good morning, can I share your table, Ms? that I jolt back to reality and realized Adonis was looking right at me and I was melting fast in the pools of his deep brown chocolate gaze.
I frowned within… what in the world had gotten to me, it could be PMS! It had to be something that out-landish, I mean what was I doing?
‘Yes, its okay.’ was my all too eager response.
Now I am in trouble, I thought. He smiled and thanked me enthusiastically telling me how heavy the rain was and tables seemed to be occupied with anyone dying to keep out of it. I had not even realized that the café was full,
What was I thinking?
I jabbed my calf once more and winced.
‘Sorry?’ he looked at me again
I smiled widely…too widely and shook my head. Then the silence settled in and I started to chide myself, say something to him! What?! I felt like a teenage all over again, eying the cutest boy in class from across the room in class. My head swarmed with what to spew out stupidly in an attempt to make conversation, he made his order and easily settled in initiating conversation. For a moment I was not sure who he was talking to till he looked my way and I started formulating a response. He came off as pretty knowledgeable, a terrific conversationalist concentrating fully on the person he is talking to- in this case me- and his smile was simply captivating. We swung from topic to topic and my heart tagged along with it. I could visualize my wedding gown… I wondered if he pictured the suit and the grooms’ men. My reverie was shattered by the ring tone of his phone… he excused himself however, I couldn’t help eavesdropping on every bit of the 30 second conversation,

yes, I am at café Javas Nakumatt’
…. in five?
Okay, love you too.

He then turned to me easily and smiled, an undeniable glint of excitement about him,

'my fiancée she just got back from Canada three days ago…’

Now I am sure!

moving on...

2010-05-14T05:53:00.000-07:00

i just have to do some weeeknsd gossiping because... this tickled the toenails off me!
yesterday was like one of those realy bad days, i was sleepy from 5am when i got up but had alot to do and decided i would get done with the bulletin change location and work some....i was fuooling, i ended up meeting a bunch of people that wanted to talk to me (ahem, no lie, not in the celeb sort of way...just talk, catch up)plus there was no free PC so.... i sat and talked and listened, tried to work...gave up at 6pm decided i needed to go home, sleep was taking its toll pretty fast...7pm, i was leaving to town, had to go pick up something form Javas and was contemplating passing by, ;for the first time i really wanted to go home with no stopovers in mind.... i get there and my pick-up ws pushed to today urgh! wasted trip...so headed out to national theatre, qwas suddenly craving roasties!

the plot thickened right here! i walk in, take my seat, noticing these three guys at a table behind me....watching my every move, if looks could bore large flaming holes into you, i would have been a tourist attraction now!
i ignored them, ate, watched TV, the dudes jammed to be ignored, (no not dudes, iam using it as a phrase to mean men, thats all)and with every attempt to exhibit their presence made sure they passed by my table infront of me every 5 seconds or so... (watch me roll them lovely eyes, oh yeah !)i had to keep uncrossing my legs, turning to this and that side...and there was a whole lotta space behind my table but NOOOOOO! i had to see them!
they whisper at their table, then whern tey move, look me square in the face from a distance....such stuff.
time to go, i check my watch, go to the muchomo lady to pay up and its taking awhile for me to get my change...then the tiniest of the guys comes up to me... i had been sensing this moment, he seemed the most agile, my mind wondered at men all this time btw, their determination despite whatever! so he stands there with me....5seconds, 10seconds, 25seconds...1minute...2 minutes...
i yawn
he grasps the opportunity
"you are tired?'
i freeze
'yeah, you look tired,'
i am motionless
'heading home now?'
not sure what to say, so i nod
'if i knew your place, i would carry you, ' motinos with his hands, his ratlike face, sprung-shock looking eyes oogle at me,
'but i dont know if i can carry you, you see, you are big...'
i roll my eyes..my change has come.
start to walk away....
and walk away!

ive only taken a two minute stroll down parliament avenue and i notice someone else is falling in step with me, breaking my thought pattern, my quiet moment, i get abit agitated...

'hallo,' he says with a bounce...looks at me again and slows down considerably, 'you are still out this late, huh!'
i walk on
'so whats your name?'
he is getting close. i stop in my tracks, agitated, clearly!i want to be alone dude!i almost scream
'eh!' he walks on, i pick my pace,' whats wrong with asking for your name?you know sometimes i prefer to talk to a stranger than someone i know because that is a new freind you are making,'
i walk... i hardly notice he is damaged by my'stopping' till laaaaateeeeer!
'you never know you may need help and i am just ahead, you could get into trouble, fall into this here ditch (that was paraphrased) and you would call out to me,'charles, btw my name is charles,'help me' and i would help you'
i am quiet walking on
'anyway, let me leave you , i hope you will be able to leave those childish behaviours,'
he walks on......

now this fella, i had no words, only thoughts...what if i was a murderer...and i had shut his mouth wit a knife lie they do in the movies....
i marvelled at men, their egos and their inability to be cultured....i ddint want to talk, not a stranger atleast!

old flame

2010-05-10T20:54:00.000-07:00

i did take that much needed leave, as it was a 'much needed' remedy to my ailing soul. i have never felt better in years. i even feel young, very paradoxical considering i celebrated a year more during the leave. this time round leave was leave, no odd jobs , no side deals, no nothing, just leave from everything while i repaired from work stress, people stress and love stress.
i read... a lot more than i ever have, sleep was hard to catch on... then it did finally!and the hanging....Javas ought to gimme a member ship card for being there practically everyday! at the height of it all...reflections into life, focus, what do i really want? its been a road to self discovery and awareness, a beautiful and painful journey. beautiful for all the promises that await me, all them good things, painful for parting, leaving behind what i once held...

then today, just as my leave ends, an old flame walked back into my life. funny; i had just been talking about him... but only as a chapter of my life... a good one. the most sensible chapter, i constantly refer to. and he was as he was before he left the country a year or two back.
still slinging his little tot of gin that i swept out of his hand to the ground in that all too familiar fight we would have about him drinking too much.i always thought i would whoop and scream when i saw him again. i mean we still chatted on facebook, talked alot and he still cared for me, when i got mixed up with a guy who promised to marry me after he left his galfy. he called me up in that time to rain some 'tough love' on me. it hurt but it was true and that was one thing i loved about him, his open handed truth...however i just didn't want to know. we even had a major fight with words, hands furiously typing away, harsh, pouting, pleading at times; his; resolute, solid, painfully true and calm. and in all this he said he was looking out for me, he cared...and i did not want to believe him.
then it all fell apart with the 'man with promises'; he never left, he broke his promise, he really didn't love me and i could not face old flame, i could not respond to his chat messages, on phone i said i was okay because i knew he would say, ' i told you so...'
well, its always been like that; some time after that, he was telling me about his life out of Uganda...the girls he met, the one he was dating and the tables turned, i was lecturing him hard on not treating her right, not caring enough, not being the man i know him to be for her and for weeks he avoided my 'tough love' too till he finally told me why he never really did so much for her... ' he never really loved her, she loved him more...he still thought about me, he still cared too much for me, more than any woman after me...didn't i know that? why was i asking stupid qns?'
i laughed.
we always tittered on the silly-serious edge and that shielded me from believing him even though i knew he was. our relationship never quite hit off when he was around, he was afraid i was too fragile, too naive for him and all he wanted to do was protect me from him and yet again for him. so we lived in an unclear zone thriving on the oh so tangible chemistry and friendship...oh, that friendship!
'the water horse, legend of the deep' will always be that bonding movie, right after he dissed it, he was hooked and we hurdled close together watching... it was beautiful, the most amazing moment... now here i was staring at hi, smiling, hugging him...glad to see him back...but the old feeling...a bit marred, smudged...not really there anymore. we sit in with his pals, chat and it's the usual , him dissing me and provoking me into a mock fight with him... and then i was slightly afraid it was still there; the way he looked at me, 'dinner, Thursday?' he tells me before he leaves.
i reply lightly 'sure!'
'its great to see you, i missed you,' he hugs me, kisses my cheek.. i am not sure what to make of it; his touch speaks volumes, his smile, the glint in his eyes says it all, he DID miss me, 'and oh! the bags with your birthday gift went missing between Amsterdam and Cairo...' he teases, 'but i will go look, i promise!'
its always light teasing and fun with us, it helps ease the atmosphere.
my sister calls... we talk a bit and he talks to her then when i am back on the phone with her she asks, 'i hope you are not fanning the flames.. i hope you are not looking back..'
i laugh because he is grabbing the phone, protesting loudly that he needs my attention, i can talk to my sister later.i just came into the country.
on his way out, his friends filing out first, i am almost afraid of this moment, the moment he looks into my eyes, his lazy smile creases his face, heightens those dimples. 'you're good?' i ignore the concern. he has always been like that, more like a big brother... i loved that too.
'sure' i reply trying to be light. and he hugs me again planting another kiss on my forehead. ' i am so glad to see you...so...Thursday.'
'yeah, Thursday, good to see you too,' i hug him back.
but something has happened to me; the infallible fear -that the old familiar feeling- that i have long since embraced since Love Made a mockery of me months ago holds me back.
i smile, glad he is back but sad that i 'm not the same. the storms of love have bashed me so hard against the rocks of despondency... i am scabbed wrong...i feel like a child abused for so long, they flinch back from an outstretched hand of mercy, hardly able to interpret love and kindness from cruelty.
so i feel myself crawl away, inside, slide back hastily like a snail into the protective observer shell I've created... i love it here... its safe; safe from humanity's inhumanity, its callous carelessness, its trivial regard for love offered...for a heart bared out and i wonder if... in this shell i haven't become as callous... and if i in turn wont drive a stake into a heart bared for me?

break

2010-04-12T09:50:00.001-07:00

i really don't have anything to say, i have been blank like that for days owing to the fact that i am abnormally tired, tired for asking for leave and being told to 'hang in there' but i think all that is coming to an end this week Wednesday.

i am really trying to come up with something but ...i come up empty... its terrible...
i need to rest, sleep, eat, sleep, eat... no TV...no noise, prolly a monastery or something close or a place called SILENCE if it does exist....
sometimes i guess we all come to that place where we feel we have made wrong turns gotten entangled unnecessarily into a whole load of activities and relationships that were a waste of time and energy and now we need to summon all that scattered energy onto the real thing.... a friend of mine calls it 'distraction'. but to human is to err right? even when you know you are walking into that particular pit...we still do right?

well i am glad, i am at the pits' gaping mouth looking ahead at the place called focus and asking what minors and majors are there and getting to the place of re-aligning my plans and life's dreams accordingly...
of course praying that those 'distractions' find me either more alert or less easily persuaded, not after all this....
its not very nice to keep starting all over, getting lost, majoring on minors and doing so little. so thats my resolution for the quarter of this year.

major on the major, focus FOCUS FOCUS and live life to the fullest

later y'all

botched plans and weirder ones

2010-04-06T01:50:00.000-07:00

5.45pm saturday(holy sato? right?)

my good Friday was riddled with work and more work and A HUGE EMPTY POCKET. Inside i was seething with Barclays like i do every month for being so slow at it, again and again...well, so i could not go watch 'Clash of The Titans' or Alice again, or anything for that matter... after the news i found my way home...promising to return next day to work on my botch Friday plans
Saturday was a more promising treat with my pockets not yawning half as much.... at that exact time, i was a whole (xxxx,0000's )richer and decided to spoil my self a bit, called up my buddy, told her we needed to go hang,watch a movie, i would be at Javas waiting.

6.45pm
she tells me she is with our other buddy and bought me a ticket for a show at theater La BONITA ( no , not excruciating conundrums and that stuff), i tell her i just ordered tea, poured myself a cup but let me see if i can make it in 15mins.

6.50pm
A crazy buddy walks in and we share a table, him and his buddy. he waiting for his sisters at a salon so we while the time away and i hook a lift to Theater Labonita well, verbally coz, my pal sends me a message telling me the play was about over, so i say cool let me wait on for you guys, if we cant do a 7pm movie , lets do 9pm.

7.05pm
the waiting begins...for two hours! i get so pissed, i text, call, etc and decide to go on anyhow alone breathing fire , hailstone...brimstone etc...three cups of tea later!

9;15pm
Clash of The Titans starts at 9.30 so my friends catch up with me apologizing frantically about the messed up plans and we vote no movie 5 minutes to checking in... i return my ticket. we head on back to javas

9:45pm
we meet another buddy of ours, he promises to come back and join us after dropping off his date.

10.pm
it really begins, more tea, food galore...2 ladies, 3 guys and then we meeting more people. i decline hanging with another buddy who is holed up with two stone drunk guys... i pass, say i will stay with my sober ones.

11:45pm
no body wants to go home, suggestions thrown in for what to do where to go, movie plot comes up again...nah too late... okay lets go joint hopping... lol, aren't we too old for that? lets just revisit our youth and see places we never really gone to in the dead of night, naturally the vote is no me to pick places. my pals have the uncanny idea that i seem to know all the hottest spots in town and not just them, my family members too, i get calls all the time on christmas easter or such days about .'er, Lucy, you know these spots, where can we go for a family day out, ...or where can we take ourselves out to eat...etc' i dont know where they get it from. so my pals look at me as the most blemished savedee that knows all them nooks and crannies. after all that tea and wraps, i am not thinking much... AFTER THROWING SOME NAMES AROUND WE DECIDE TO DRIVE BY sTEAK OUT. totally yuppy!

12:15pm
Steak out is pakced all the way to the junction. we pass and think harder...FatBOYZ

12;30
FatBoyz IS Blazing...we pull up seats and watch people, a buddy of ours who became our scape goat got it first after staring wide eyed at two people kissing(poor kid does not see these things or hang in places where people do this stuff, we tease him!)...it starts to rain...we kinda pull up further on the veranda away from the rain, after a few round of drinks, we bored we need activity

1:30am
Punchline, next stop
the music is lousy, sounds like the Deejay from FATBOYz followed us...the crowd is younger and wilder, i am sure i have spotted a homosexual couple, the guys were in very compromising positions, the body language was a bit much. again my buddy stares at these half naked babes that walk in like 'Jesus, what the ....!'
we tease him afresh. AFTER aGAME OF pool... and the guys bar the table, we decide to move for more fun...the consensus is , 'we go home, past my bedtime'
but along the way, we decide we not sleepy anymore, lets go on somewhere else, Katch the Sun is dead, another joint i cant remember is dead... i suggest Kololo, the Lawns Or Orleary's

3:07am
we struggling with packing at Kololo. we finally mile out and...Orleary's is closed but KLC isnt! (Kampala Latino Club) the sound system is better, the music not doctored and copied. its drizzling... we go for drinks and more pool. thats where we meet Benjamin Odoki's son and dance all them latino numbers the Dee Jay Sprung up, but boy, did he tire me out...going faster and faster with the steps...
sleep was getting the better of us, our KB was incomprehensibly funny now and the teasing was worse...

4:30am
we decide its time to go home.
we actually closed the bar.
we pile up ont the car and head towards Ntinda to drop first person and my driving buddy assures us he is running out of gas. every gas station is shut, everywhere. so we drop guy off and try head 200yards to the gas station....it is then...thAT THE car comes to a screeching halt.

5am
we out of gas! stuck somewhere in Ntinda. and it starts to rain hard. i suggest story telling and optimism. that is shut down grumpily...so we turn up the volume and listen to music for a while, the rain gets worse. my buddy has to work on sunday at 10am so she curls up to sleep. i cant sleep. Our Saintly friend also goes to sleep. leaves me and my buddy behind the wheel awake

5;20am
... after several attempts to read the paper, he leaves the car with a jerrycan TO GO GET FUEL.

5:45AM
my saintly buddy awakes and we all asking where and when this guy will come back. its raining hard. am dying to pee!

5:53am
dude returns on a boda all the way from town coz there was no fuel anywhere.

6:15pm
on the move again, we pull in more money and buy gas at Nakulabye where we drop off my friend who has to work in 4 hours and head on to drop my saintly pal. its still raining. we ALL asking who will go to church....mumbled responses

7AM
finally i get to be dropped off. peel the wet-ish clothes off and go to sleep...till 3.45pm. waking up occassionally to tell my sister i may, or may not join them for lunch and 'no , i cant think about where a family can go for a day out,'

3:45pm
finally out of bed...thinking of Pork. i need me some pork. decide to watch Man ON fire, showing on TV. my saintly buddy calls asks if i went to church...he cant get a hold of the other two. i tell him i am heading to won so i may see him since he is going bowling.

6PM
lEAVE HOME. go to a joint at my place for pork. they take forever.... i crave a smoothie from Javas. after pork i head to town... i crave the internet and something sweet. i tell my saintly buddy where i will be.plan is finish off an article and read my goosebumps collection.

7pm
plan discarded as we hook up saintly buddy an his all knowledgeable friend.... we talk till 10pm about Cars and sports...it was an experience! i got to know more about cars than i ever would in my whole life... i stared and oogled at cars, commented on their back side like guys would do girls...it was crazy!

11pm
got home tired!still sleepy from the 'overnight' go to sleep at midnight

5:30am Easter Monday!
got to wake up to come to work...well woke up earlier and dozed off again...
i hope today will be different...i am not complaining though, its been fun

racing against time: post #10...before april

2010-03-31T07:58:00.000-07:00

i have been a die hard fan of def jam poetry, those guys really rock when they get to do their thing, i was reading this on Zsamm's joint blog and decided to carry it out here for all to see, if you wannac watch it its here Dana Gilmore
it is here

Wife, WOMAN, fRIEND

Guess I shouldn't be surprised that my beginning was his end.
After all, we were just friends.
Although in my world I was his girl,
so in my mind I would pretend to be his wife.

Saying shit like,
"there's only so many years in a woman's life".
Right,
so I gave him three.

Yet he had the audacity to step to me on this Donnell Jones
"I don't know where I wanna be" type shit.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
He hit me with the forehead kiss.

He told me life was a journey
and he was ready to explore this shit,
and I was pissed.

To me, he was a hypocrite .
Like a fake preacher in a pulpit
and he left me sick.

And no he didn't choose me
and that doesn't make him right nor wrong.
And just because he was the epitome of my life,
that doesn't make me wrong nor right.

Like I said I was his friend
and not his wife.
And I should've acted within that capacity.
And then this breakup would've been "just one of them things".
Instead of a fucking tragedy.

And all the time I spent mad at him,
hell,
I should've been mad at me.

After all I was the one that gave him the key to my house,
Let him hang clothes in my closet just in case we go out.
Washing all his dirty clothes to make a "full load".
And let him finish all the leftovers just so the food don't go old.

For the times that we raw-dogged just cause he "lost all the rubbers".
And though I showed him more support than his father, brother, sister, and mother
and just 'cause those same people dial my number when they're trying to stay in touch.
And he received mail at my address "cause he be here so much".

Got total control of the remote control to the TV, DVD, and radio
And even though his name is not on my lease
got shit in my house that is off limits to me
like his side of my bed and his stash of weed.

But none of this obligates him to me
because not once did we exchange vows.
And If I knew then,
what I know now,
I probably would've listened,
when he said it was some shit that he needed to get out his system.

But I was too busy bitchin',
jumpin' bad like I was gonna hit him.
And in the back of my mind all I could fathom was
how much I was gonna miss him.

And just because I'm cryin' y'all
don't mean I'm the victim,
it's just that I was too scared to let him go
'cause some other chick might get him.

And that was my fault,
it was my decision
I should've never put my heart in my mind's position.

But I couldn't shake him--
he was like a bad habit.
And all this for a nigga that was just average,
doing average nigga shit

Like talking out the side of his neck
and thinking with his dick.

But, I must admit
he's the one I wanted to commit to.
so, either I wasn't living up to my potential,
or I was just the average chick.

But I chose to believe that I was a woman
caught up in a feeling.
Both physical and emotional,
who was way too willing to give her all to a man.

And though it may sound stupid,
guess what,
I would do it all again.

Just next time for my husband
and not that nigga I call my friend.

HAPPY aPRIL, Y'ALL

i wanted to try

2010-03-30T11:39:00.000-07:00

i know i wasn't asked but i got no post and i thought it would be fun assessing me self

1. LUST: Besides your current Significant Other who have you lusted for?

Duran DUran
i was only 5, AND I WAS IN LOVE WITH TOP OF the POPS AND THAT GROUP ESP. the LEAD SINGER... IT WASNT LUST I THINK.

NE-YO
Henry Cele, that guy pulled Shaka Zulu OUT OF HISTORY FOR ME!

JOHNNY 'DEeeeeeepp'(excuse the pun) makes me dream of Underland..take me away!

2. GLUTTONY: What food brings out your inner glutton?
I donoon , i got mood swings
chocolate
a gooooooood Javas Double Mocha
and Fruit, lots of it
oh and water anyday, all day
pastries

3. GREED: What are you greedy for?
wanderlust, travel, thats all i want more of.

4. SLOTH: What is your plan for an ideal day of sloth?

sleep, travel, eat, sleep, travel, eat, without moving a muscle, oh and have money to spend without worry it will be through

5. WRATH: Describe a time that you let out a can of whoop ass on someone.

i dont really do that... i break down cry, keep it in, wish them ill, kill them in my journal and etc but let it out...oh the time i did i let it out on some guy 5 yrs ago, i was mean to him, spewed diplomatic sarcasm LIKE I ONLY CAN on a 12DAY TRIP, ALL THROUGH IT. he mest up my life and was shocked when i let out, he never saw it coming, he kept saying, 'but i thought we were buddies'

6. ENVY: Who or what do you envy? Why?

I guess it comes with why i should envy them...usually i don't...

7. PRIDE: Have you ever had to swallow your pride? What are you proud of?
recently yes,i swallow my pride about not being to proud to beg or tell people i love i love them coz after i have and i've been snubbed, i burn the bridge and never return to humiliate myself.
i'm proud of being someone people find approachable warm and somneone they can talk to, i am proud of being a loner, proud of being a people person, i learn't people don't know how to treat others...they don't care... i know i do!

things i should do before Iam 70 !

2010-03-25T21:11:00.000-07:00

i still lie awake at night.... every other night and dream before i go into actual R.E.M about the things i want to do before i get married, or get too old or hit the ol' final sack or...yeah...

1. have breakfast at 4am or 5am on the pavement of Kampala or jinja road, just the two of us, (someone willing to go along someone as crazy and carefree, someone i can TALK TO)

2. TRAVEL... travel...travel....everywhere and anywhere all my life.

3. own a caravan and be a gypsy for a month...work in a circus shovelling elephant dung and doing tricks

4. wearing a native Indian Attire and falling in love with a native Indian prolly called 'Lion Heart,' or something

5.sleeping rough...under the stars, with the stars for a ceiling

6. going to a synagogue

7. going on a cruise ship for a week... ( i should befriend Oyo Nyimba and he takes me on his new toy from daddy Gadaffi)

8. get kidnapped...

9. not sleep for three days straight and see if i will hear or see things that are not there, like scientists have said.

10. have that dinner on the floating raft on that crater lake in Fort Portal

11. go to the Amazon!

12. Be friends with an orangutan

13. Live in one of the worlds haunted houses and see if its for real.

14. drive all night to nowhere in particular with soda and sandwich stached in the back.

15. milk a cow... i know we have them, i just haven't done it

13

am in love!!!!

2010-03-24T05:39:00.000-07:00

totally, irreversibly, irrevocably in love with Johnny Depp!
see, I've been seeing this guy around, i remember when he was on an emotional sea-saw ish with his drug problem and i though he was the lousiest actor ever.she was my informant back then, carrying to school all these magazinees with stars i cared less about, Johnny Depp most of all! she was crazy about Batman then... totally! oh and she did swoon over Johnny Depp. i pretended to be interested. i was charmed by 'edward Scissor hands' ( if anyone has a copy, plse...pass) then he got quiet and i didnt care, charm wore off...then he was back as Captain Jack Sparrow...(I AM SURE I HAVE SKIPPED QUITE A LOT OF 'FILMONOLOGY') But, he enamoured everyone once more... i still wasnt moved, i thought, yeah yeah, great, you are a great actor, i see that now with my grown up eyes but...that's it...then i fell in love afresh with Tim Burton... and looked out for all his directed movies, Johnny Depp featured way way too much and i looked up 'why'
oh, good pals ..really good pals... and the weird relationship with Helena Bonham Carter (she is Tim Burton's Domestic partner)...back on course...DEPP!
okay then i watched Alice in Wonderland and ashamedly consider myself a late bloomer when it comes to this love thing for a number of actors people fall for way before me... (say Denzel...the whole world was in love with him long before 1995's Man on Fire when it hit me!)
so i watched Alice and was captivated... i was eager to see what he could do, coz Alice in Wonderland is my favouritest childhood books. ive read it in all versions more than four times, from the lady bird to the unabridged, both Alice in W'land and 'through the looking Glass plus watched all the variants of them both...
i needed to see the excelent twist Burton would add to that twisted nonsensical dream. and Johnny Depp as Hatter... only?
i was shocked, coz the mad tea party is a highlight but its only a chapter in the book... i was surprised...pleasantly. Johnny Depp was so affecting... he owned his part so entirely, i was fooled into beleiveing in a wonderland with Him as Hatter for ever...he brought the warmth , he spurred the hope, he took the stage...as THE Mad Hatter,' he was also tweedledum and tweedledee, Mat lukas and...okay spoiler...sorry anyhow, i fell for him and becase of that, i am in cinema this week again just to watch this movie again, to be enamoured, smote, by Johnny Depp's wonderful cast as the HATTER, my goodness, he is an excellent actor... i was suddenly Alice being beckoned from my seat into the cinema sheet thingy into the movie by him...his gapped smile, wide eyes...fizzy red hair, lisp-ish....but above all, the heart he oozed through the camera... brilliantly poignant!

NaIL pAintING

2010-03-22T23:22:00.000-07:00

I hAD A RARE MOMENT.

i have grown up with two sisters but trust me you suffer alone when you have to have your braids removed... my older sister tired quickly, while my younger sister just got distracted, so at the end of the day you must sort yourself out. having nail polish done for you, took an amount of pleading and lecturing on how 'you need to learn to do it yourself' then when finally, you break through... the ordeal is traumatizing
my sis constantly instructing, 'put your hand here!...no, not like thAT! like this!, sit here...! do you want me to do it?! hurry!"at the end of a rather messy ordeal (because your fingers have been smudged at the cuticles and you have been instructed ' when you shower it will chip off from the sides), you don't want to have nail polish put on again.
my situation was worse...
i always got an impulsive desire to wash clothes or clean the bathroom much to my sister's chagrin, it was more than just having it off the cuticles... i just dont know what it was....
i love mysisters beleive me, but when it coMES TO hAVing nails AND hAIR done...PaSS!
fast forward to yesterday.

I've been having the most grueling few months ever, climaxed in the last three weeks or so. i felt like i was going down hill, spiraling for a mighty crash landing and in this time i talked to a friend over phone, and cried, so yesterday she gets a hold of me and instructs me, 'don't go anywhere, till we have talked'
I was guilty for not keeping in touch... i was just being a 'cave man' tryna deal with whatever on my own.
between dashing in and out of Studio, we talked, i talked...she listened....i felt kinda numb already but it was okay, she's as open and honest as NO one i have met before and being open with HER too was a mutual exchange of souls...
half way through the dash ins-outs, we gt out while news was on... and while i tALK , she asks ' can i do your nails,' it felt like therapy.... i was moved... someone wanted to my nails and they were /are not beauticians.
there was something very sisterly about it. so while we talked...sorry, i talked... she carefully let that bright tipped brush create a master piece on my nails....up and down...up and down...
and i talked
and she listened
up and down AND sHe Nodded, UNDERSTANDING....she did make me feel good....and it felt strange not coming from the closest girls in my life, my sisters, IT felt rather New...appArently she is such an expert coz shes grown up with SIX sisters, so somehow girlishness came so easy for her.... i struggled with accepting it at first...it was weird.
then she urged me back in studio...while we waited for the coats on my nails to dry I liked listening to her talk...shes really a natural. sHE WAS ALL nice And supportive, nonjudgmental And very big sisterly. the coat dried and after an hour while she did the talking and i the listening...she took out that magic slender wand with healing on its tips and brushed up and down...up and down with a clear glassy sheen base-coat.... and i listened to everything She saID.
IT wAS a curious feeling... i think i liked it...talKING and Nail painting and healING.

feast of love

2010-03-19T07:35:00.000-07:00

one bored sato evening i scrolled through my movie selection and landed on this one 'feast of love,'
clicked play.... and
the opening narration got me hooked

'there is a story about the greek gods. They were bored, so they invented human beings, but they were still bored, so they invented love. Then they weren't bored any longer, so they decided to try love for themselves. And finally they invented laughter, so they could stand it. '

and i watched it till the end, i was totally enthralled at the different facets of love portrayed and brought to us through the eyes of an old sage dispensing advise to a bunch of 'love-seekers' (morgan freeman plays that part)

anyway so i was scanning my hard disk to see what movies to review for my next Flair issue and i figured, why not?

well if you havent seen the movie ama paste in a few quotes form it, it may inspire you to look for it....well, i also thought it had too much bad manners...but its a lovely movie!

Bradley Thomas: Do you think love is a trick or do you think that it's the only meaning there is to this crazy dream?
Margaret Vekashi: Which do you believe?
Bradley Thomas: The second one.

Bradley Thomas: What's making you smile like that?
Margaret Vekashi: Looking out the window, an unusual man, an innocent man, an open-hearted man. Someone who has given tremendous love, but never had it returned, not in the way he deserves.

Esther Stevenson: How was your walk? Did I miss anything?
Harry Stevenson: A cool breeze, a softball game, and two women falling in love.
Esther Stevenson: With each other?
Harry Stevenson: And one of them is married. The funny thing is, nobody noticed. Not even the husband, two feet away.
Esther Stevenson: [chuckles] I'm sorry I missed that.

[entering the coffee shop]
Chloe Barlow: Hey, you need anybody to work here?
Oscar: [to Bradley] Yes! Yeah. I mean, if that's all right with you.
Bradley Thomas: You... You have any experience with this kind of work?
Chloe Barlow: No.
Oscar: [interrupting] Neither did I when I started.
Bradley Thomas: Do you like coffee?
Chloe Barlow: Not much.
Oscar: [interrupting again] She'll learn to love it.
Chloe Barlow: But why here?
Chloe Barlow: I don't know. I just kind of felt a harmonic convergence in this place.
Oscar: She's right, you know? I felt the same kind of thing.
Bradley Thomas: [looking confused] Ah.
Harry Stevenson: I imagine he will be, too.

[Bradley and Harry are sitting on the bench by the football field reminiscing of the past year and a half]
Harry Stevenson: God is either dead or he despises us.
Bradley Thomas: You don't really believe that.
Harry Stevenson: Maybe. I saw the most remarkable thing just now. I wandered into the stadium, I thought I was alone but down on the 50-yard line there was a couple making love. I watched for longer then I should have. I was envious. And then I felt sorry for them. There's so much they don't know. Heartbreak they can't even imagine.
Bradley Thomas: [sighs] Well, even if they knew, it wouldn't change anything.
Harry Stevenson: How so?
Bradley Thomas: Well, Chloe knew what was gonna happen to Oscar.
Harry Stevenson: What do you mean she knew?
Bradley Thomas: She did. She went to some psychic lady who predicted the whole thing.
Harry Stevenson: She believed her?
Bradley Thomas: Yes, Harry. She did. And she didn't run away. She didn't crawl into a hole. She found them a house, she threw away her birth control, and she married him. God doesn't hate us, Harry. If he did, he wouldn't have made our hearts so brave.

Harry Stevenson: Sometimes you don't know you've crossed a line until you're already on the other side. Of course, by then it's too late.

have a great weekend!

power cut

2010-03-16T02:00:00.000-07:00

here in this darkness
i lie
covered by the assurance
of no invasion
into my thoughts
my aching soul,
to you_

we talk
softly, deliberately
i even laugh
then
the lights come on
intrude my privacy
flood my heart,
lay me bare
and then you see-
the secret within
what i kept from you

...i was crying

and she screams 'fetch!'

2010-03-09T01:50:00.000-08:00

The door open ajar,
The screaming begins
And she knows it wont end soon

She screams ‘fetch’
Bruno bounces off to pick
Yesterdays dry bone
And tears prick her eyes
The screaming began again
She knows it won’t end soon

The back door slams shut
She flinches in her skin
She knows he won’t come back
Not until she begs
She hears her screaming
Its not yet over

She screams ‘fetch’
Bruno looks at her teary eyed
The bone in his mouth drops
At her feet. She sees
She has been crying
Its happening again
Like it always happened

Bruno knows and understands
Every time they play ‘fetch!’

Pssst! over here...we got a new blogger on.... you may be inspired here!

stay awhile...randomly

2010-03-07T03:53:00.000-08:00

i am sleepy as hell and my head lolls from side to side as i write, trying hard to keep it on my tiny neck (never noticed? we all say its the Chihandae family signature neck, no matter how big the head is, well, most are small and medium, the neck shall forever be a tinny wee thing)
i am just trying to keep sane and relive my week, my past month, my life so far.

1. the other day in my mad dash to get to see the Nu Vision's CEO, I kinda passed up some real great heart to heart convo with this magnificent person. for as long as i have known her, when we get to meet there is that out pouring that gash of heart that is so fulfilling and so humanly real... and she taught me something i had failed to grasp properly PTSD ( post traumatic stress disorder) this aint oprah, btw and realized its so real, it happens and we never take it seriously in Africa generally because??? i wish i knew. i mean if getting a cold is dismissed...or a slight fever...how about an emotional illness....a shrink who? you shall be told you are soft and weak and that is a 'white man's disease'...'go to work, get over it or something!' and then you get fired for poor performance and your friends call you a wet rat simply coz you just have all this going on inside and it cant be dealt with coz...of the above reasons...read again. i was comforted that i was not the only one that felt i needed to get away when i got hit with PTSD. listening to her, made me feel normal and helped me understand exactly what i had been going through for sometime now and her saying, 'to get okay, its important to go through the motions,'

2. I haven't been to church in like forever... okay two weeks and today i labored out of bed thirty minutes before the service after slamming my alarm clock an hour earlier... it was my sis waking me up asking me if i was ready to go to church. please! groggy me was stumbling out of bed, water cold, too late to heat it, nothing to wear coz all my clothes are wet.... el nino! got to church thirty minutes later but...it was good to be home! good to be in church, again. to laugh at my pastor's jokes and enjoy his hilarious 'real' down to earth delivered sermon. despite the fatigue... i didnt sleep.

3. the three sisters in church that testified surviving a waterfall accident re ignited my faith that whatever i had going on in my life, stuff i told God every night as a prayer ,'you know whats up, sort me out,' felt like chaff. these gals should have died! not after being dashed against rocks and drowning-ish but they all survived through the power of prayer and listening to God's still voice telling them how to get out and then healing them completely without the aid of surgery! thats My God... it was all familiar again.

4. i was up till 3am... doing what? i know i get busy like that in the night and even sent an idle sms at 2am...really! so MTV wasnt all that this time round and i wasnt planning to do another 24hr Marathon night vigil like last weekend, so i forced myself to go to bed by 3 something...h yeah, i am still admiring my laptop,after it returned from rehab 250GB bigger, windows vista ultimate 2007 complete! but strangely...slowish with a few issues that i will sort soon. so i was trying to burn a disk with a new programme that played me for two hours! then of course working on changing my screen savers and desktop themes and just loving all the new additives...

5. oh! i have acquired as if a housemate for some time...a guy...yes. and i realized its either hard to live with people or with guys but when we chill, we chill... we will sink into the sofa argue about music coz its a biggest thing we have in common and flip channels...and watch movies together into the wee hours of the night and have him doze off which really irks me! then washing dishes... hmmm that's another story but its all good.

6. i finally am coping out of my own PTSD, i can sleep, i can eat... did i say i did not sleep all last weekend coz i could not sleep and could not think or eat or feel or anything... i was as if dead? yeah , it was strange to me to and i wondered what was happening to me and what was going to happen because i wanted to go live on an island for a long long long time. i am taking baby steps... and trying to avoid negative emotions...not easy but...helps with the healing.

7. haven't really had a chocolate fill much, i need to. i need to give Javas a break really. had a birthday cake-tea thing with a friend yesterday and got joined by other friends and it started to rain....much to my delight! it was lovely!

8. i have learned thrice over and over again in this short time, i hope this is the first and last time i take this test...that the most embarrassing thing is to love someone that don't love you and keeps you believing they do for whatever reason. its so heartbreaking, so inhuman and so deeply embarrassing being this sort of laughing stock.... anything else but..this! i am still embarrassed.

9. oh and Having to cry on the phone to someone that loves you and really cares is the most rewarding thing ever. have them call you for hours just to find out if you are okay and nudge you out of your tightly coiled position somewhere..with a joke and memory lane crazy convo.. and having them tell you, 'honey, sometimes you let thing be, questions upon questions may never be answered, let love heal you,' having love passed on this much over every open wound is worth a thousand cups of tea at Javas.( i still love you Javas!)

10. i am sleepy as hell, have an early morning, been battling an allergic reaction to all this erratic weather, had a number of 'hold-on- not-ready' moments this past month but i am looking forward to a great action packed week... i wont buckle under its weight...i'll stay while keep y'all company...have a great week

i want something else....

2010-03-02T03:43:00.000-08:00

The risk of being me, as a writer is wanting to experience what I write because I belief in writing what you know and half everything I have written, in first person or otherwise is something I have been through or experienced by the power of empathy especially if the narrator is great with imagery and emotion. Better still for some I use observation and feel them enough to experience the world they let me in. however there are limitations to this…you see what they want you to see. While experience gives you the breadth, height and width of all you need to know. You just sift and sort and write what you want.
I recall reading one of the most profound books ever, ‘wolf’ in my senior two I guess or was in Senior one….anyway the book was a beautiful chronological telling of a generation of were wolves, their behavior, their lives and their mating habits… the writer spanned the tale so beautifully I was almost swayed into believing they truly exist. Anyway, one part of that book that will forever be etched in my mind is where this journalist who was on the trail of unearthing mysterious murders and linked them to were wolves meets the most dangerous of them some babe can’t remember her name but his obsession with his study led him to imagine that writing a great story would be if he experienced an euphoric sexual moment with a were wolf. He could tell she was one instantly becoz as described in the book, he could sniff them out ;she was pale with wide wild green greens, extraordinary beauty and a pseudo delicacy about her , that was, pseudo, because she was amazingly strong. So over some drinks she tries to talk him out of it telling him she would kill him, you see according to this book, (which is like a guide to werewolves for me to this day) when werewolves mated in human form always, at the peak of it, orgasm, their strength was magnified and they lost control and changed form and tore at each other. But stupid journalist did not wanna know the facts; he had heard about it, he wanted to experience it, so after much dissuasion she finally relented and warned him not to blame her for the consequences, (now remember she was a full were wolf as in totally, in the book there were werewolves that mated with humans so they just carried the gene and were beautiful with extra strong but didn’t change and she was hunting for another wolf that was a result of a werewolf and wolf, that kid was something else, so this babe dint give a hoot if this human wanted to die or not) so they go up to a room, the journalist had downed like 5 glasses of scotch for dutch courage and his eyes blazed with the drink, excitement and desire (the babe was hot and she knew how to swing it) so they start… and he is taking mental notes…amazed at how strong she was too, then she reaches climax and he watches her change, stupid guy was laughing hysterically thinking ‘eureka!,’ and I was thinking, ‘dumb fool!’ so while he is going crazy with the pain and excitement, she changes fully and tears him apart! I was struck!
Now years later, I’ve been writing for a while tittering on the edge of talent and daring to brace out now and again on some ‘writing waters’ and the more I stepped out, the deeper I wanna get. I have become like the journalist maddened by my desire to go where angels don’t tread, excited by the idea of certain risks like…writing espionage and getting into the government secret mix, being tortured, being on the run, witnessing high profile murder, (at least I know how to use a gun, clean it and unload and load, too heavy for me to fire but still waiting to do that…)being a GI Jane in Libya or some far east place…what does it feel like, being married to a mafia or someone that secretly or dangerously connected, traveling to a cursed forbidden place and writing about it, experiencing a volcanic eruption. Somehow I want more, I think there could be more in life to experience that I aint looking out for . I am not the safe type, the wilder the experience, the bigger the challenge, the better my imagination works. I am still looking for that time machine, the white and black magic. I still have to do a begging stunt and taxi touting…wilder, more dangerous, more risky, that’s it for me now…I think like the journalist (unfortunately he died) it makes the story richer, stronger, like good old wine.

unfinished business

2010-02-25T00:57:00.000-08:00

forgive me for my unfinished stories but.... they keep rolling out at breakneck spread i cant stop their train so i shall just write and you can vote which one you like and which you want me to finish first, it will jerk me up outta my randomness and creative spill

snippets of life

The sleek blue-black E3 Mercedes pulled up leisurely in front of the church parking space catching the attention of everyone that stood by the church entrance even with the melancholic somber mood that held the air at ransom to its suffocating effect, the hundreds presents that spilled out of the church doors, all turned to watch the new comer.
A tall upright looking chauffeur stiffly slid out of the comfy plush black leather seat and walked briskly to open the back door.
Everyone waited not so much in anticipation as to see who it was but more in quaint anxiety of all they were aware was stepping out of the car. Guilt weighed heavily on some, while many others had learned to justify their actions and projected the guilt onto anything else but themselves.
The lady stepped out, high heeled black Gucci stilettos graced the slim long legs drapped over to the upper part of her smooth calves in a round satin sheen black high-waist skirt that held back with a big bowed ribbon. The satin expensive looking purple frilled blouse did not do much to hide the high well placed bosom, but more, enhanced it.
She was breathtaking, elegant; her hair parted at the side held back in a conspicuous purple and black hair clip. The elegance and beauty oozed an aloofness that swirled around he like the expensive perfume she wore. Her gaze swept over the crowds that watched her. She knew them all. ‘Aunt Grace, Dan, Ben,’ she sighed ‘ah, Lutta… him too,’ she more whispered it to herself. A cynical smile touched her lips faintly.
‘Peter,’ she sighed tiredly,’ wait here,’ she motioned to the chauffeur who responded with a curt nod. She made her way to the church entrance, aware but undaunted by the eyes that followed her slightest move. At the door, people shuffled out of her way and hushed whispers punctuated the air,
Isn’t that Natasha?’
‘shsssh!’
‘yeah its her, when did she come back?’
‘she’s been around!’ an irritated reply
‘is it really her?’
Natasha strolled in purposefully, the service had not began. She made her way to the front section for close relatives of the departed and sat a few feet away from the last person on the row. She could feel their bewildered gaze, half guilt mingled in it.
The sermon started
Her eyes remained fixed on the silver brown casket that would forever keep her away from her uncle, the man that had been the most influential force in the Mashindi family. The man that had made her who she was today… along with the other few.
She barely heard the sermon. The priest’s voice droned on and on like a broken record, the readings, the testaments. However at the tributes and testimonies from the close family and friends, Natasha sat bolt upright, the slow cynical smile creeping up her full purple glossed lips as one by one every speaker spoke of Uncle Xavier’s greatness, kindness and benevolence.
‘a good man,’ she thought sardonically and the images, the memories she had buried so far slowly forced their way back and flashed before her unhurriedly…..

contemplation

2010-02-22T00:00:00.000-08:00

its been a harrowing month and its 7.49am
i am seated in newsroom watching the rain slide down the window pane. i woke up to rain and wish i didnt have morning news but its a bitter sweet thing really. i get to wake up groggy but enjoy the first light of day.... and jealously horde its memory like i was the first to see it. its even more enviable a sight when it rains and i am longing for a lone walk to Javas for coffee and the smug look on the manager's, face as i slide into the comfy sofa and him saying his hellos and ' i havent seen you in two days,' he really does keep tabs. it makes me realise how often i go to Javas and how compelled i am to go so i dont hear him say, ' you did not show up yesterday,'
i didnt show up on Sunday....i was tired, it was late and my buddy text me to go over... i did not see myself get up from my sluggish position on the couch to go to town, or get dressed appropriately, so i let it slide... now this post is really not for anyone....its for me....some sort of cheery introspective kick-starter....

the night was hot.... i was quite half naked all day, drinking just about all the coldest water in my fridge, thinking of yorghurt i forever was telling myself not to drink as i dropped in and out of sleep. Tv blazing... absently flipping channels and then choking at the dust i could sniff on the sofa... somewhere between my sleepy haze and laziness, i just sprung to my feet made a bee line for the kitchen, picked a cloth and hit the sofa till i could see all the dust particles rise and mingle with the heat...

so its still raining and i need that coffee. i am thinking of all the things that make me happy... like the messages i got last night at 00:53 ' miss u,' and to think i was mopping all day over someone else...more than that...that i was fighting the urge of texting him and texting someone else....
and ' driving around town... where are you?' 1:00am
and i was wide awake, flattered i was being thought about ....but i am cynical too...was it genuine?
and i respond, ' i am home in bed,'
I know the kind of guy he is, i dont have to worry about him pounding down my gate at 2am in the morning. he is a gentle man, understands the boundaries i set.
'okay, goodnight,' he responds
i try to doze off and maul over the text, test my soul, ' do i really like him?'
he has been fighting it for so long, because it is complicated.
ive met many 'complicated guys ' in a span of 9 months and i am not sure i want this baggage.
he is the nicest man i have met in a year, who actually cares about the things i care about, who takes the time to be with me, who i never tire of talking to, who above all things makes me feel secure, who respects and does nt take my efforts of kindness toward him for granted, who genuinely appreciates my presence and is apologetic for when he has been wrong, who honours me and makes me feel like a person deserving of honour, respect and appreciation; who recriprocates my calls, so i dont feel like i am the one constantly giving and trying too hard, whose discipline is so spartan its scary yet deliciously nice, but who i sadly... only like alot and nothing more....

newroom is getting crowded, i loved the solitude.... and i laugh as my friend and i chit chat about men and her confession on loving bad boys.
men you strive so hard to please, to love and care for and... they dont seem to notice.
i feel her.
the heart is wicked above all things for sure. it chooses to love who it wants and drags you down its damned path, dashes you against rocks of regret.
so i sit here and think about him and him
him that i truly love and who my heart has damned by choosing.... and him that i feel could genuinely be the one i should choose except for the hesitation.... its all complicated....

its 8:18am, still raining. i think i should put both of them on a shelf somewhere and forget about them. Life never hands you all you want you know, so i'd rather have nothing

the valentine ghost

2010-02-09T19:53:00.000-08:00

(modified to suite your reading, based on a true story)

Sam shifted uneasily, He was tired of cable... it had been a long sweltering hot day and already he longed for another cold dip in the bath tub but as it is always, the water seemed to have warmed up with the blazing heat that had raged for days. it seemed so far long ago when it used to rain in February, about 5 years ago? now it shone hard almost all year round. he recalled Chester make rowdy rather unbecoming jokes about the weather with his Gothic ideas,' i hear the sun makes the dead turn in their earth beds...makes them uneasy!'
then recalling the accident five years ago on that particular day, Chester cleared his throat and stared at his beer foolishly, 'i just heard that one...sorry man...'
'yeah, Ches, it was five years ago,' Sam tried to brush it off. a little too brusquely though. a moment of silence passed between them.
'hey, we could go get some pizza or something.,' shaking it off, Ches decided he was already tired of being indoors. ,'look, we have been here all day staring at cable flipping channels, and listening to all those mushy love songs, all freaking day! come on...we can still celebrate 'love' like two buddies...who cares for girls anyway?'
Sam smiled a loop-sided smile and took the last mouthful of his beer, swirled it in his mouth and swallowed hard. Ches had never had luck with the girls for as long as he had known him. he wasn't bad looking at all, his manners and attitude were the problem, his mother was the only person Sam knew that could stand his ego and his lousy rowdy annoying jokes. some of the guys couldn't either. But Ches was the most faithful friend he had. He had stood by him through the time Meggie died. the horrid accident that took her life as she rushed to find him at Ban Cafe for their coffee date...it was the meeting point actually. he had wanted to surprise her and take her to the Sheraton and Propose. he recalled that moment like it was yesterday....' darling, i am on my way, just down the road at the mall. will be with you in a moment, you will love the dress! happy valentine darling!,'she had chimed into her little purple Nokia 5300. he had got it for her on her birthday a month earlier.
He sniggered at her badly disguised anxiety and responded, 'take your time i will be waiting,'
it wasn't too long before he heard the commotion and the screams... at first he was not bothered till he heard someone pass by the cafe screaming 'accident!'
his heart had stopped for a moment . he panicked and a feeling of dread crept up his spine. he did not know how he made it out but he wanted to be sure. people were rushing down the road, voices floated past with things like,' a truck and a boda collided,'
'i hear she was smashed... i think!'
'the boda knocked...'
'this is terrible,'
'i think she was off to celebrate valentine, bambi!,'
his pace quickened and in his heart he prayed 'God No, God no, God no, no, no, no, no,'
there was a crowd fast gathering, thickening, broadening almost filling the street and Antonio's grill,'
His palms started to sweat as he pushed through the crowd of disrupted revelers, street bums, pedestrians and traffic officials...to the center of the accident scene.
he recalled the sick feeling of nausea that washed over him when he saw the body trapped between the boda wheel and the truck's backside...the phone still in her hand stained with blood that dripped into her partially open palm, mingled with the blood red polish on her long freshly manicured nails... it was a beautiful dress, a silk chiffon red dress, sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline now ripped by the impact of the accident. Her hair still in ringlets around her face hid from him her wide eyed horror filled death gaze...he couldn't stand the feeling of paralysis that crept up his legs. He buckled against someone who shoved him roughly 'watch it!'
Sam stumbled out from the thickening crowd and reached for his phone, Ches was the only one he could reach for now.... as he did, he noted the time, 11:15PM

That was years ago...five years and it was still fresh, the night mares had subsided only a year ago and he still felt handicapped and unable to date. He saw Meggie in the eyes of the girls Ches tired to hook him up with. no amount of scolding could make him see them and not see Meggie.
tonight, was another night to mourn afresh. he hated valentines, the love songs the love in the air feeling... it all made him sick... with longing and with dread of another death... he was not sure he would not kill another girl...despite Ches telling him it wasn't his fault...he could not help feeling it was...

'dude, lets go!' Ches was impatiently dragging him up his feet., 'lets go, chase the blues...we should be a glowing red!' he beamed
'black maybe,' Sam responded but didn't resist getting up.
'lets drive,' Ches suggested, 'my car, my rules, okay?'
Sam shrugged.
they were cruising into town in no time, the streets were like as Sam remembered that night... not too busy but couples passed by in Valentine colours and roses. the city lights flashed up the huge advert screens and roses draped the ads, love notes, and images galore. Sam winced ..it still hurt.
they talked about work, about Ches's crazy mother and about his dreams of settling down. that was the funniest part. Che's faith was amazing, he always believed there was nothing to it but a woman that loved him enough to take him for who he was....
they got so lost in teasing and jesting that it was Sam who noticed the lady in the red dress.
'Ches, slow down!' he hit his pal's hand on the steering wheel.
'what?' Ches jerked the brake and they slammed forward. 'what! shit man, you scared me!'
Sam wasn't listening
'Ches...Ches... you were going to knock...'
Ches followed his gaze... the lady across the road was on the phone, smiling and she was stepping into the street. her flowing chiffon dress blown by an invisible wind ruffling its pleats around her, giving it a transparent hue...
'Meggie?' they both seemed to mouth...
Sam was out of the car in a flash...'Meggie!,' he screamed,
'Sam!,' it was Ches.. he slammed the gear into start and steered the car to the side, parking by the city square pavement then got out to follow his friend
'Sam!'
Sam run up to the woman as she stepped out into the street to cross the road, a boda boda whizzed past and missed him by a breadth.
'Sam ! do you wanna get killed!,' it was Ches screaming behind him
Sam did not know why he did, why he felt propelled to talk to her. she was smiling looking at the phone, it was the message he had sent...he could remember it off heart...' Hon, you know, anything you want...'
why had he sent it then? when she was crossing,destructing her and she walked into the street. Sam was right in front of her... and the eerie feeling that an invisible glass of time seemed to separate them filled him with regret and dread. suddenly time seemed to stop and their eyes met...hers blurry...she seemed to look through him...not at him and for a moment he felt the need to say something...tell her how he missed her, that he loved her still,wanted to marry her...had wanted to propose that evening...then terror filled her gaze and she seemed to gasp wordlessly...everything else happened in slow motion, the boda rounded the corner at breakneck speed, its headlights glaring...her hand went up to guard her eyes and she tried to step back...then he saw the truck...saw her face one last time as the ghostly truck and boda collided. her hand reached out to him...he tired to catch her, whisk her out of the way...but he reached for nothing...he could only hear the sound of the crash in his head like it was before...the screech of wheels, smell of rubber...the coppery scent of blood mingled in it all...
'Sam! Sam!,'
it was Ches. he then realized he was crying...profusely by the sidewalk of Antonio's grill.
'Ches, she was here!' he sobbed, 'she was here,'
'damn, i saw ...shit! shiit! i don't believe in ghosts, shit!' Sam knew Ches only swore when he was scared out of his wits, 'you could have gotten hit, you know!' he added trying to calm his nerves...
passers by stared at them curiously... two girls passed by and frowned, then continued with their conversation,' anyway...i heard that people still see the ghost of that beautiful babe since she died, every valentine, they see her cross the road...it must be a sad story... i wonder who she was going to meet...,'
the other girl tsked tsked at sad story
both men looked at each other, 'what time is it?' Sam grasped his friend's arm where the wrist watch draped it and sighed in shock,' 11:17pm!'
Ches frowned... what?
'Meggie died at 11.15PM!'

NOW i heard this story but gave it body.... a good friend of my sister told her, her brother or friend or something like that claimed he saw a breathtakingly stunning woman around Antonio's grill on valentine's day in the late night. she was in a hurry to cross the road and as she did, she just disappeared into thin air...i don't know how true it is , i was fascinated by it

the cannibals-part one

2010-02-03T04:17:00.000-08:00

They came to Skaris in the dead of night, through the eastern gate in the Balgoon bus. it was the only bus that brought cargo and human passengers at 9pm into Skaris. it was the carnival week and the streets would be lined with people celebrating till the break of dawn. the 'Eve of Cannibis' as the people called it had a history many knew and none dared to mention. it was believed it was bad luck to call upon the names of the dead on this festivity because it ushered them forth from their slumber into the streets...it was hard to tell at times in the bad light of the fire torches and the moon who was a friend and who was a foe. but many did not care...
the police did
it was known that every year at the 'Eve Of Cannibis,' people disappeared. others were found dead...slashed with what looked like many knives, their throat torn open and parts of their body gnawed away with seeming jagged saws. the people were enshrouded in superstitions of Cannibus, the man who was believed to have caused all this....four hundred years ago. although the people lived in fear of death on this eve, something about the air was intoxicated, filled with a wild desire, an uncontrollable urge to live life and live it large...regrets would be for later. 'we will bury the dead' were the whispered responses everywhere.
the visitors were anxious too...maybe more excited about joining the festival...it had been a long wait and finally it was now...they stared ahead pensively. despite the pitch darkness their predator eyes could piece the terrain like it was day light, just a little fuzzy but absolutely defined. they sat in a group huddled in the foursome seat, the father, the mother, their teenage twins and the little girl. their faces were abnormally flushed and their eyes were circled with a sickly sallow hue of pale yellow. it was easy to tell they were different and it was easy to find them repulsive...but also dangerously alluring. the father, Aklam, was big about 6 foot 3 and startlingly young except for the fact that his hair neatly cropped round his burly forehead was a healthy shock of white. The woman beside him, Eden, equally tall about 6 feet was not too bad, especially when she smiled. her even strong white teeth from a distance looked razor sharp, as if battle hardened. the teenage children, the boy, Doya about 5,feet 9 was a bit pale, he always had a fresh-just showered look and was quite built but awfully lanky for his fifteen years. and the girl, Mya was the most deceptive looking of them all, exact height as the boy, lithe tomboy figure, an open round face and the loveliest hair on a girl long with streaks of white in it.her wide eyes gave off an innocent aura about her...it drew anyone in , especially the boys, who thought they would be her first and brag about it to their friends. she was pretty. the sort of pretty that grew on you, not at first glance but at the third. after she spoke and smiled and talked about things someone way older would know...after she fed you ice cream...after she asked you to visit her family for dinner and the boys followed because she was so 'pure' she did not kiss on the first date...or the last and she loved to just walk to the gravest spots and talk about things ordinary girls dont talk about...watch the moon. her eccentricity allured them.
the little girl Pesha, however was the charm of the group. her innocent eyes, her chubby arms, the way she lisped her 'thank you's' made the people around her glow with affection, want to love and protect her. they were a peculiar family, they seemed close knit quiet and very private. however they carried a stallish meaty scent on them whereever they were...

the bus driver crinkled his nose. he did not remember uploading any meat but the scent sat in the air like a dead reptile and it seemed to gradually get worse. he looked at the family huddled in a corner in the spacious bus with scattered passengers. he could not help feeling they are queer. aloof yet diplomatic...he shrugged the dreaded feeling that crept up his spine. his wife had warned him, he was too suspicious. he sighed, in no time he would be joining the celebrations. his wife would have fixed dinner and his children...ahhhh, the boys! they would be going out with masks. he smiled... the thought made him feel sorry for the family behind him...they looked lost and alone or was he wrong? he brushed it off, the eastern tunnel's wide gaping mouth opened before him, spilling in some moon light.... soon
he would be home. he sighed in relief.

the family of five, like something had been triggered within them, looked at each other silently,knowingly...patiently.

Kimi-ga hoshii.

2010-01-26T20:03:00.000-08:00

Kimi-ga hoshii.
she said, her lips plum red,
pressed together
and i thought
a mannequin had found a voice,
or had a wild thought.

Kimi-ni muchü-nanda.
her lashes fanned her almond eyes
she squinted shyly
against the sun
brushed my gaze aside
i wasn't sure i heard right.

Kimi-no-koto-ga subete shiritai..
she brushed her small porcelain hand
against my own
the tea pot between us
the only barrier
of a mounting connection

Koibito
she cooed
her breathe fanned the smoldering flames
bursting forth
from a cold cold place
throwing me
into confusion anew.

Kimi-ga hoshii.
she said again,
raising the fan to her eyes
the fresh scent of roses
filled my nose...
filled my soul
i was hypnotized

Tsukiao
her dark eyes widened,
misty
Sabishikunaru-yo.
she reached for me
i needed to leave.
and someone laughed
looked at us
told me, 'she loves you,man'

up close... and personal

2010-01-24T20:10:00.000-08:00

its a beautiful year, i know it.

something about crossing over to 2010 was phenomenal. i knew beyond anything this would be my best year ever... i declared my freedom from a number of demons in 2007, i turned 28 in 2009 and realized that i did not give a hoot what anyone thought of me, i was going to live and love my life. it was an amazing feeling of freedom... is it something that comes with age? i donno.

so why is it that i feel like i am dying inside.
its a weird gnawing ache, a resounding emptiness, a forlorn sadness that i seem to wear like a trench coat...
its searing at times,like salt on a wound, sometimes i am reduced to a sobbing heap on the phone with whoever will listen. most times i am running, burying my head in heaps of work sand or some other activity, meeting people, movies... something

but the things i love, have paled... i am meeting more people than i can handle and i am not sure anymore if i am simply pretending or trying too hard to enjoy them. I love people, i genuinely enjoy them in all their forms, broken, complex, whole, funny, boring, nice, 'unnice'...they are people... varying clay pots with a lot of essence and beauty if you dare look deep within.

then i think back; for 5 years now, my end of year-new year has always been a harrowing painful one... with me leaving someone or something...
the tearing is excruciating and i forever wonder why i do this to myself....why i get myself enmeshed in something that now...in 2010, i am afraid to admit, i am past handling... tired of handling. wondering if this truly is my lot.

on Saturday over numerous cups of tea with a buddy...i told him i was tired of being me, tired of caring and loving and being broken and he told me, 'No, its better to love wholly, to give it all you have, because though it is painful and you bare yourself to pain, its the most beautiful most fulfilling thing you will ever feel,'
i knew he was right. i am not afraid to love anymore, like i was. to give all of me unconditionally as a gift to the beloved, to let them know love need not be hampered with strings or misconceptions or anything amiss... i just realized again the lessons i had forgotten in loving... the brokenness of humanity... the inability for us to receive or give love... the polluted ideas of what love is, the ugly truth that its not easy to love the unlovable without being abused or taken for granted or misunderstood...

and though now i pine and weep and moon over losing, over brokenness... i still believe it is a good year... a beautiful year

and i want to be Me again, enjoying everyone, from the street kid to the President, like i did... a part of me does but it is trapped within this scab of pain... like it was last year, the year before, the year before... maybe they are new lessons in loving...

but its going to be a beautiful year...after i am past this dark moment... i will love stronger than i did last year

enjoy your week! mwaaaaah! lotsa love!

u and me against the world

2010-01-20T09:31:00.000-08:00

‘‘do you want some?” Kevin cleared his throat as he asked the question, his legs folded beneath his thighs and he stilled himself against the fading heat of the day, trapped within the rough surface of the roof top of the flat he loved to escape to when he needed to get away from life’s maddening haze. This time he got away with more than he had bargained, a doughnut, which he now passed on to his ‘rooftop’ companion Shenzi.
The little girl with thick overgrown braids reached out gratefully, ‘sure, thanks,’ she took a bite, he could hear her chew delicately, gently like Mama Rose on Block 4 taught them how to, she would slap their lips lightly when they chewed sloppily, ‘ah ah! Not like that, you will not see the queen if you eat like that,’ she continually boasted of how in her day, the white missionaries than run the mission schools taught them how to eat the queens way; elbows off the table, chew slowly, savor every bite, mouth closed, no chomping noise! And on and on it went…thinking of mama rose made him smile, it chased the gloom that loomed over him, on days like this.
‘You told Micha you hit a door,’ Shenzi, the little girl said, softly, she never raised her voice, her voice rose like it was summoned from some far away dark hole. Something about it always calmed him. He picked at the dirt beneath him and sighed, ‘who told you?’
Shenzi was silent for a while; he could feel her shrug and heave out a response, an honest response. She never lied to him or hid anything from him, he could trust her. ‘Micha did, at home time today. I had not seen you all day. He told me you had a swollen lip and you had gone to the sick bay. Was it the boys again?”
Kevin smiled, feeling his perforated smarting lip and left temple throb mildly, the temperature was unequal on either side of his face and his heart surged with anger, frustration and hurt. “No,’ he replied quietly. After a minute, he felt her small hand trace the area that hurt and he wanted to shove it away, wanted to be a man, be firm, not cry. But he let her anyway even though he stilled himself form her touch; he did not want her sympathy. He knew she knew. She knew everything, he told her everything. The cold breeze from the noisy night air seemed trapped between her fingers and his throbbing wounded skin. He bit his lower lip, not to cry as she whispered,’ I am sorry,’
‘it’s okay,’ he tried to sound casual but the morning argument was still as fresh as her touch. Tata Bob was drunk again, he was always drunk and his mom faced the brunt of it all. When he stood in, he got his wrath in full measure, the hateful names, ‘you are stupid! You will never amount to anything! You worm! Stay out of this! Your mother is a fool!’ the words rained down on him like acid rain, cutting deep into his soul, his little heart. He often wondered why Tata Bob had become the beast he was. Was it the war? Was it his job, the business that failed? It was too much for a twelve year old to fathom, but he knew. And tonight he could not get in now, still shaken from the morning beatings. He walked out the moment he heard his father’s old Suzuki cough to a halt outside the window. He was not sure he could handle it; he hated to admit fear gnawed at him, so much he could not summon appetite for the doughnut he picked from Teopista’s tray next door. They were the most delicious doughnuts, he wondered why he could not she could not sell them for some money to pay fees for her boys. All the kids on the block would buy. He would be the first.
‘Tata Bob again,’ Shenzi spoke and he could hear the trace of helpless anger and frustration strain her usually soft whispery voice. It was all he needed to let it out. He told her, bravely at first like he did not care, like it was someone else’s’ story and then he choked and he cleared his throat more often than he should and then he wiped his eyes and tried to laugh and she let him be, lest he got mad that she was feeling sorry for him, she pretended not to see him cry and tried to sound nonchalant in her remarks. When he was done venting. They stared out silently into the night as darkness deepened its course over the horizon, the red embers of daylight faded…with slight hints muddled up with the street lights and lightings form the city beyond. It was the most beautiful sight. It felt like being on top of the world Shenzi had said, with not a care. ‘Like the world is ours,’ and he believed it too. The elated feeling of being his own enveloped him in this place. He needed not be afraid, he needed no one , least of all Tata Bob, his own father…he did not know when he last called him daddy…he took a deep breathe, it washed the pain and came out hot through his nostrils. It felt good. He touched his companion’s hand. She stared ahead knowing the remark would come, ‘I wish I had come up with more doughnuts. You must be starving,’ Shenzi smiled, a tiny nervous chuckle caught in her throat and she shrugged, ‘no, this was okay, thank you.’
Kevin felt sad for his friend, sad he had not even asked her if she wanted something to eat. Sad that he was too angry to bring her more doughnuts in his haste to get out of the house. And now she was starving. A fresh wave of anger built up on the inside of him, how could she! How could she leave her daughter starving all day!
‘Kevin, mom has to work, its okay, I will wait till she is back.’ He did not realize his fists were clenched till she placed her soft palm over his balled fists.
‘but she could have left the key!’ he insisted
‘well she probably forgot, maybe she was in a hurry,’
‘everyday?!” he almost shouted.’ No Shenzi,’ he hit the callous ground with his fist.
‘Kevin, she was in a hurry, you know, she is so forgetful these days, two jobs, little pay, bad Indian bosses… you know how its like”
Kevin wanted to scream to tell her , her mom did not care about her, all she cared about was making money, prostituting herself at the casino, the men she brought to the house that ate everything leaving hardly anything for her, he hated the way they looked at he, she was only eleven and skinny! He wanted to tell her the painful truth that he overheard her mother tell the neighbours, how she was some drunken night mistake with a tycoon who cared less and now she had to deal with his bastard, how she got away because she could not stand her.
Kevin swallowed, he could not tell her this, maybe she knew…
‘Its okay Kevin, she got me a new school bag, ad new crayons. She was really happy today when I left for school but the work is too much. She is so tired,’ she cooed. And his heart broke; he hated her mother for it. So much he dreamed big.
‘Shenzi, you know what, when we are older, I will buy you a car, I will get us a nice house and we can live away, far far away over those hills where rich people live and we can call all our friends over to come and we have lots to eat and people that love us… and we will always be friends and we wont have to cry or …get beaten…or go hungry,’
He could hear her sigh at his passionate outburst.
The wind blew softly around them, healing in its entails. Shenzi swallowed and blinked, her eyes had welled up with tears. She loved it when he talked about that dream and everyday in this world on top of the world, she saw it, her best friend and her cruising in nice cars, being happy, having lots of money. Him protecting her always…
‘Most important is, we will always be friends, right?’ she asked
He put an arm roughly around her; clumsily, ‘of course, you are my best friend. The only one who has seen me cry,’
She giggled, ‘I did not,’
‘Yes, you did,’
‘No, I didn’t,’
‘urggh, of course you did,’
Her laughter rang out into the night air and for a while all was forgotten, it was just them, against the world.

getting to know you

2010-01-18T02:40:00.000-08:00

I soiled the carpet today,
in child's play
you frowned---
i am getting to know you better

coffee was hot,
I spilled it on your paper work
ouch!
am getting to know you alot better

the wind blew in,
blew out the candles
and the rain...
on your nice pressed suites
i am learning about you...
more each day

i cried...
i couldnt do it right..
i messed it up
all the time...i donno if I will know you
better at all

you held out your hand
took me in your arms
you pressed your lips to my ears,
"iam learning to love you, for who you are,"

twilight!

2010-01-17T09:02:00.000-08:00

after reading sleek's thingy on 'winging' i have decided to defend twilight.
i love twilight, maybe i am just emotional, but i think that would mean half the baby boomers in the world are emotional.

in my defense and of those that love the twilight series...

i will say,

1. the writer Stephanie Meyer, may not be a seasonal writer, not the best according to some extremely seasoned,'full of them selves ' writers like Stephen King and the script maybe cheesy with poor dialogue BUT the emotion precedes the dialogue and i think this does a lot of 'showing' as movies should do than 'telling'

2. i read some excerpts of the book and thought... i don't think i can buy these, written by a real woman going over and over and over the motions but.. to think she dreamed this story and a great idea at that.. wrote it, i think she got a good head on her shoulders to write something with a great plot, great story and its been bought by the media.

3. young people for ages have been fascinated by the supernatural, i am one of those of those thats never gotten over gothic stuff and i am still in love with the idea of a vampire being in love with s human, who wouldnt, you just wanna know what happens next. plus, twilight is the sort of things Mills and Boons and sweethearts never wrote about, its taking this teenage romance thing to a whole new level, fascinating..

4. those guys show more love and emotion than i can handle in a seating, the way he looks at her, the raw way i which he tries not to eat her, the way he is so besotted by someone he would kill... its all that that makes it hot

then Moonlight...

hmmm its now up to the audience to decide whether they still love Edward Cullen or Jacob Black

and who seems better for Bella Swan... i made my pic..

its that i am in love with the idea Stephanie Meyer presents, a love so deep, so pure, so enchanting and so giving and yet so forbidden!its the catch!

why i believe in fairy tales

2010-01-10T04:11:00.000-08:00

1. there is a Peter pan in all of us who still believes in , hopes all, dreams all and knows we can make it...he makes us live on.

2. fairies are angels unseen or seen- the people that benevolently light a dark path, clear a ragged road, a beacon of some sort, a rainbow in a dark cloud.

3. goblins, trolls and evil gnomes are demons, Imps if you like that whisper evil thoughts and make us do wrong, they spread seeds of deceit, hate and anarchy.

4. Prince Charming is that one person we dreamed of who knew the password to our heart and when all others failed, he came through and took his own.

5. that that frog you let go was a prince waiting, hopping that you would open your heart and through love's light see the true prince he was.

6. that there is an Aladdin; a diamond in the rough, in every rogue, every wild lost, 'DIY' man that needs to meet a Jasmine; a mirror of his own dreams of perfection to see his flaws and become the polished diamond he should be.

7. deep down within us, when we are lost and hurting, broken, alone, we want, like Dorothy to click the heels of our red slippers and be back in the place of comfort and unconditional love 'home'. (wherever that maybe)

8. because we draw judge a book by the cover and forget like the scarecrow that we are more than meets the eye or like the cold tin woodman that we cry and fall in love in-spite of ourselves, that we, like the lion experience fear to know courage is only our ability to face fear square in the face.

9. the world may need a seeming nobody like us to pull a sword from a stone. and that there is an opportunity for greatness in its time.

10. witches and goblins are only a fraction of the ugly part of life we need to battle with...with the right magical tools.

11. portions, spells , magic words and doors are the many prayers we offer for miracles we experience in our lives.

12.and the dreary castles and fortresses of gloom and doom are only the walls we build when we've despaired from fighting out life.

13. we wear that armor bright and shiny, mount that unicorn called Unforeseen destiny'... follow the voice of the shade... to reach our Eldorado- every single day.

14. Because 'Happily ever afters' do exist but we've grown worn and weary of finding the 'one true love', broken dreams fogging our hopes, we forget without hope- our vision is blared.

15. that every-time we say a wrongly placed word or speak carelessly, break a promise, we break a heart...its like saying 'i don't believe in fairies,' kills one

16. that babies are the gateway of all things pure, all things innocent, all things gracious, that they see God and everything spiritual..their laughter is proof as the fairy reprimand goes, 'when a baby laughs, it splits into a thousand pieces.... and some where a fairy is born'

17. Because death is only time away ticking in the belly of a crocodile and sometimes it won't get you by surprise.

18. because we can want too much and do all we can to get it, but this Midas Touch will in the end only make us miserable.

19. because we have ugly step sisters and mothers all around us crabbing us down or keeping us away from our royal destiny.

20. because life can be one Topsy turvy journey like Alice's Dream.

21.Because pride like an Emperor can make us bare our nakedness through deceitful flattery from people that know our Achilles hills.

22. we make wishes everyday, with or without a magic lamp.

23. opportunities come in two forms, a poisoned apple, a bread house or a bean stalk. we make choices to destroy ourselves or slay our giants and claim our fortune.

i believe in fairy tales... they are not just another silly story - they are our stories

the artist

2010-01-05T01:41:00.001-08:00

He saw her…
He told her she was beautiful,
She smiled,
A cynical curve
His heart fell
She did not believe him

He sat away from her
And drew her with his heart
The furthest tip of his pen
And felt her beauty
With no outward invasion

He touched the tip of her upturned nose
Slightly flat and obnoxiously large
He caressed her high cheek bones
Softly with the felt edge of his heart’s tip
And marveled at their exaggerated height
Overdone width

He sighed as he guided the tip
Along her plump arms
Indented with a birth mark? A scar?
Something…
He lovingly brushed up the shadows in the inner arm
For effect
To show the loveliness of cellulite

He sang a serenade within
As he touched up her bosom
Huge and clumsy, an orchard of melons
Slowly slid down the valley between
To the extra folds of skin
Around her middle
His heart leaped as he tenderly drew
Delicately outlining the curve of her womanliness

He sighed with awe as his pen
Expertly sketched the bumpy area of her behind
Big rounded and low, a misplaced hill
On a clumsy terrain
He felt each smooth curve with his hearts hands
Cupped their spilling fullness
And lavished his admiration

He swooned with relish
Over her legs; stubby and unusual
Her thick short feet, hardly a size four
And blessed them with his pen…
A pair of glass slippers

Then he reached out again
Told her she was beautiful…
This time, offended
She slapped him and walked out.

moral of the poem: beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder...ONLY!

broken halo

2010-01-04T08:11:00.000-08:00

i did not want to get out of bed today.
i woke up with the feeling that everything was back to normal, streets of Kampala will be milling for yards and yards with traffic...a huge wake up call that the city is full ...again urrgggghhhhh!
the festive season began on the 20th for me really. i have been out almost every evening doing just about all i could from watching movies to eating to being by myself to thinking to working...yes working in a graveyard of a town and i could breathe...it felt good to walk down the street and hear my heartbeat and i dreaded the day it would be over... today.
i rolled in bed and it was 10am. i had been on the phone for three hours till i dropped at 2am with my younger sister, huffing and puffing and almost losing it about something she was going through...i felt helpless and horrid that i could not be there for her, hold her and stand up for her...then again maybe its better, maybe its stuff she needs to deal with like she told me ' i will deal with it?'
then it started to drizzle and i zigzagged to the bathroom for a leak... stumbled back into bed and covered my head...my mind fuzzily reeling with what i had to do...its my night shift week for the news...urrrggghhh , i wish it wasn't this week...somewhere within me is a heaviness, a sadness,and it aches visibly from all the trial swimming i was doing the day before.
and i smile faintly...its 12 midday...
the curtains seem to close on yesterday and there is something final about certain things in my life...its as if the holder of my lifeline has decided something's got to end and the pain of tearing away is incapacitating. i wish it would stop...even when i know its for the best... i need a clean slate, a fresh start, a new resolve above all...a communion with hearts that totally understand me, that are interested in me and who i really iam. i try to shut it out in a dream...the scream, the aching voice within that's believes finally...there shall be peace,

1.30pm

i got out of bed
but i still don't want to wake up...
i am uncertain my heart will take on this journey as bravely as the years before...to endure brokenness, deceit, cruelty, selfishness, pain, falsehood, misunderstanding...twisted humanity...their revolting need to take, take and take and never give, their lack of ability to love fully truly honestly or wholly...
its scary to face this world again for another year, to shed a few tears, and to love bravely again...

i need to wake up... i need to be that warrior again

to the nu year!

2009-12-31T20:47:00.000-08:00

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand!

my fave irish quote toast
and another one that makes me giggle

'May your troubles be as few and as far apart as my Grandmothers teeth.'this new year!
okay i have accomplished it... done 10 posts for December.

to mr who?

2009-12-31T20:00:00.000-08:00

Mr who?

if you were a blanket
i would shelve you for myself
uncover you in the cold cold night
and wrap your woolly self around me.

i would curl into you ,
draw you close around every contour
every curve,
every indent and inch
of me
just so you can hear my heartbeat

but
Mr who?
you grace my mantle piece
with your frozen smile
clear penetrating gaze,
your presence

if you were a star
lodged somewhere between heaven and earth
trapped only in the iris of my eyes
or the puddle at my feet
i would wade in it
bare feet
wallow in its cold sharp jabs
in my toes...my heart
and for a moment
pleasure and pain
would have a home

but
Mr who?
you dwell in my dreams
in the recess of my heart
in a fond memory of yesterday
haunting me
in that picture frame
on the mantle piece

and.. i am in love with another song...from Alicia Keyes 2009 4th studio album, 'the element of freedom' i have been drowning in 'trying to sleep with a broken heart' and the quote it starts with.. "There are those among us who are blessed with the power to save what is loved by another. But powerless to use this blessing for love themselves." she is as gorgeous as ever, taking on an 'X-man' sort of character with an ability to heal with her hands but unable to touch her love....and the purple all through...wow!

>p.s: happy nu year

world leaders i would date!

2009-12-30T20:00:00.000-08:00

lemme ramble abit there is this song with timbaland and Nelly furtado and soshy 'morning after dark,' its weird but its grown on me, looks gothic, oba he be wearing contacts...grey at that, really creepy but nice, and then furtado looks like madonna in 'Evita' the makeup and costume...interesting video.

CUT
(zoom in, scene two)

I did not come here to post about that ...it was in passing and i could to let it slip... when i was younger...like 9 years ago or so, my lil sis and i would watch the news to see either 'Koffi Annan', 'Thabo Mbeki' or 'Amama Mbabazi' now if you have seen these three together you will get my drift...the grey streaked hairs that gave them a sage look, classy look (am not to sure about Amama anymore but the grey streaks still sell him)was a Wow factor for us, we would shudder and squeal and think 'OMG!' Well, older now, i still think Thabo Mbeki and Koffi Annan are hoooooottttt. suave, smart, intellectual, classy wise and meticulous and of course powerful. i even imagine the cologne they could wear...something i have yet to sniff out from a designer company outlet itself shipped over to them from God-knows-where. i figure it would be rich exotic and nothing i have ever smelt...like the cologne that Eritrean/rwandese/somali doctor, i met at British council management cocktail wore, i was wowed by his charm, knowledge,his lifestyle and humor and the fact that he was like 65 and still as tall and straight as the youngest man around and very diplomatic... i felt like i had come close enough to actually meeting Kofi Annan or Thabo Mbeki...

GADDAFI
now this guy is as hateable as he is attractive, there is something rather alluring about his hateable qualities. the arrogance, the ' world revolves around me attitude' 'the spoilt leader if, of 'i get what i want,' really attractive but most attractive is his strength, physically and personality wise, it takes a strong man to lead a country that long and make the leaps and strides he has with Libya...now what woman would not want to be with a man that without saying it is saying 'i can be your security, your lion, i will protect you , you don't have to be afraid of anything or need anything when i am here,' Geeez! he oozes all that , no wonder Best... oops did i just say that? not forgetting his wealth...the steel hard strength and corky confidence is frighteningly alluring.

Abdoulaye Wade

i know , he isnt the best looking man on the planet but i think, because i once had a long time crush on Seal, i am not big on striking guys...there has to be a hook... and the hook for me is he is French, you would ask 'okay, there is Sarkozy,' oh Sarkozy is alright, but i think he is quite not as strong as i would want him to be and a bit too play boyish for me to like, so pass but i would not mind being good friends with him...however... Wade is a class apart, his country, french assimilated give them that classy french finesse. as a country and from what i hear it flows down from the head, his wife is a head turner ...completamente francês! anyway the fact that can do chivalrous things like open car doors, kiss a lady's hand, be smart, meticulously too, speak french and be powerful...(sigh)he just seems well bred period!

Ahmadinejad!
that mad man of Iran! even with the thought, i am completely awed by his tyranny, his obstinacy, his fight against conformity to be controversial and headstrong no matter what, plus his passion. for a man to passionately hate or love something...that is alluring enough...he has some fire...something to fight for, believe in. focus, direction...there is a mysterious strength about this rather little man (and i am not big on little men) but any day Ahmedinejad's unbending personality stands taller than him and reaches out to me...and i gape in admiration.

AND OF COURSE... Obama

i dont think i have to say anything about this guy... he combines alot of what the other leaders above could lack... lets start physically: he is hot, tall, has a characteristic bounce(seen him walk up the podium to make a speech?) he played backo... seen him dribble a bit...i think he is attractive...really really. character...a real charmer,you can tell, (Michelle could not resist), he is down to earth, he seems to say 'what you see is what you get, i am not trying to put up appearances) he is strooooonnnnng, he has stood through it all maybe his wife helps him stand but...the guy is attractively manly strong mentally,intelligent,generally he is the full Monty!

now if there is any other leader worth this list, wait for it sometime... but as for now...eeeeehhhhh these men...
happy nu yr!

apart from 'carol of the bells'

2009-12-24T06:48:00.000-08:00

io have been seated at a computer at work listening to all the versions of carol of the bells from 'the version at 'nightmare before christmas,' harry potter's' 'celtic versions, trans-Siberian,sukaris or something like that some japanese cartoon version to the usual ones and instrumental coz apart form 'what kind of child is this' i love this christmas song and the versions, sounds very gothic. okay i took time to to for lunch...
anyhow and now i am listening and watching one of my latest sensational hits by the group 'owl city'
first time i watched it on MTV starter i was blown away... its got an 80's and childlike if to it... reminds me of 'Aha's' 'take on me' but i love it video and all, his voice...beautiful...i'd be pleasaNtly surprised 'hint hint' if anyone got me Owl City's album 'ocean eyes'
anyway lyrics here,

You would not believe your eyes
If ten million fireflies
Lit up the world as I fell asleep

'Cause they'd fill the open air
And leave teardrops everywhere
You'd think me rude
But I would just stand and stare

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay
Awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems

'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs
From ten thousand lightning bugs
As they tried to teach me how to dance

A foxtrot above my head
A sock hop beneath my bed
A disco ball is just hanging by a thread

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay
Awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems
When I fall asleep

Leave my door open just a crack
(Please take me away from here)
'Cause I feel like such an insomniac
(Please take me away from here)
Why do I tire of counting sheep
(Please take me away from here)
When I'm far too tired to fall asleep

To ten million fireflies
I'm weird 'cause I hate goodbyes
I got misty eyes as they said farewell

But I'll know where several are
If my dreams get real bizarre
'Cause I saved a few and I keep them in a jar

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay
Awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems
When I fall asleep

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet Earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay
Awake when I'm asleep
'Cause everything is never as it seems
When I fall asleep

I'd like to make myself believe
That planet earth turns slowly
It's hard to say that I'd rather stay
Awake when I'm asleep
Because my dreams are bursting at the seams

its called Fire flies... tags at the child in me... and reminds me of the time i watched and picked fireflies in the dead of night at a national park with a tour guide i was hopelessly infatuated with. he brought out the child in me alot. we chased fireflies down to my sleeping quarters then sat on the porch and talked about childhood...it was enchanting to get muddy and wet with the dew drops hopelessly grappling for fireflies... then it got too grown up when he asked for a kiss...and the spell broke.

love from unlikely places

2009-12-22T04:36:00.000-08:00

Last year I was doing a show on radio called ‘the bridal breakfast’ , it was a full time job show on its own and it got me to appreciate weddings and the intricacies involved plus I met sooooo many wedding planners, decorators, designers, cake makers etc. it was interesting to hear what these people had to say about the wedding and honeymoon make up anyway… I was touched that most of them would text me back occasionally telling me how well I steered the show and how at home they felt and that was sweet. There was this one particular designer, who, on a day I was particularly sleepy coz the show was from 6am -9am actually texted me for days after telling me how nice a person I was and etc and I was so shocked seeing I had been really sleepy that day and prolly was not as nice as I always was, absentminded trying to keep my facebook open to keep me lively and she thought… I was nice, easy to be around, made her feel confident etc… God!
So anyway from then on, she would see me on air and text me, ask me if I am okay, once when I had a major fight before reading the news and I was sore it showed. I was touched she praised me…I was utterly surprised…taken aback. So anyhow come 22nd December 2008, Christmas blues setting in , like it does every year since 2004, I get a call from a number I don’t know and it’s her, and she asks me where she can drop my Christmas card. I am again disarmed totally, I pause awhile and I am wondering why this person seems to like me this much…so I laugh, more surprised than anything and tell her to drop it at UBC, I would pick it from there.
Well I talked to her again this year sometime and got a few texts from her. I figured well, its all over now…and its 22nd December again, I am fighting the Christmas blues, typing away at my laptop, trying to complete an article I must before Keturah or anyone in the Magazine’s department calls me for it…I have really not felt like writing that’s why…but I can’t say that of course.
Anyway I get a call and this time I have saved the number, I am not sure it is someone I know, it is vague then her girlish laugh rings in her ‘hello’ and I start to recall, and respond, ask her how she has been and that little chitchat and then she asks me ‘where can I drop your Christmas card for you?’ I had not expected it and I laugh totally amazed but this time, slightly warmed up inside, so I tell her UBC again and ask her a little about other things. When we say bye, I am smiling to myself more in total surprise and awe at how a 30 minute or so interview could culminate into this; Christmas card every year from someone I figured would forget that cold morning when I tried to be hyped up yet kept watching the clock for the show to end. And continuously be benevolent toward me without ever getting anything or demanding anything in return.

mambo jambo

2009-12-20T06:58:00.000-08:00

its a weird feeling this one...
wish i could explain it but i cant....

so...next

does anybody have any Christmas cheer to pass around seems like i am short

been on my mind

2009-12-17T03:20:00.000-08:00

you know those days when something is on your mind in forever and you look it up, master it, say it, meditate on it, laugh about it and go over it and the process over and over and over... and you cant get enough of it...well it hit me today, so i am posting it in hope it leaves my mind

The Lion King 1½ (2004) (V)

Shenzi: [Timon is singing] Oh, look, it's dinner and a show!
Banzai: And I thought beans were the only musical food!

Timon: Waaait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second.
Pumbaa: Uh, Timon? What are you doin'?
Timon: Shenzi Marie Predatora Veldetta Jacquelina Hyena... . would you do me the honor of becoming... . my bride?
Shenzi: I don't think so!
Timon: Shenzi Marie, please. I know what you're thinking: "We're too different." "It'll never work." "What will the children look like?"
Shenzi: Ooh, that violates so many laws of nature.
Timon: Listen to me! The problems of a couple of wacky kids like us don't amount to hill of termites in this nutty circle-of-life thing. And so I ask you: If not now, when? If not me, who? I'm lonely.
Pumbaa: Can I be your best man?
Banzai: I say we skip the wedding, and go straight to the buffet!

Shenzi: For your last meal, you're gonna eat those words.

Banzai: Look at them scramble.
Shenzi: That's just how I like them: scrambled, and a little runny.

awww, its still on my mind!

sleepy and nothing

2009-12-14T19:56:00.000-08:00

i write this with my head lolling partially, my neck hinges bent over from fatigue... holding up a head that wont keep straight... very grueling. anyho, it is morning, another week of morning news and i made the mistake of having a 5.30am breakfast, now i am paying for it with a heartburn... i don't understand how i could be so foolish... but anyhow, the deed was done. there is absolutely no sane or poetic lead to this post. i am just writing because i got a free computer for hours on end to ward the sleep off, the TV wont work and i am afraid to proceed with the book i started reading on Saturday lest i sleep... great fantasy book just that its written by a woman... you know us... a full page of description...but
\ fact that she is actually writing about pirates and her protagonist is a man is interesting must be challenging, i am waiting for the 'war' parts coz there has to be war but of course...she does not elude letting us know how hoooooot he is, i imagine if it was a guy writing, we would have felt his 'hotness' nonetheless. he prolly would have talked about his unforgettable sinew muscular body within the rudely torn pirate waist-coat somewhere in relation to him bending oars with herculean strength... i think thats a woman's description...anyhow we would have gotten the point in not too many words....okay i am straying into a lot of irrelevancies and i think i need to turn in...find a comfy nook in this office, curl up and sleep for a while... i am ...so ...sleepy.

leave my crusts!

2009-12-10T02:35:00.000-08:00

there are those days i am in a spoil-my-self-mood. it usually hits me when i have morning news or public holidays and town is quiet with fewer people around, so i stroll down to parliament avenue, to shake the sleep off with a humongous craving for coffee and toast or cake or a croissant...anything doughy really.
cafe pap is usually a good spot, or Nandos, especially when i am in a 'watching' mood, book the window seat and stare out at people coming to work. the distant sound of coffee mags being steamed and the smell of fresh coffee beans and baked rolls making my tummy churn, giving me that release i crave for when i am locked behind a desk with the cameras brimming in my face and the nation waiting for me to tell them what's happening... sometimes i wish i can just scream out 'freak out!' on air and shock my managers but really... i aint no Jim Carey.

so i love my bread at cafe pap, brown toasted with jam and butter, my coffee, usually decaf with honey, John always knows what to bring when he sees me. often times after i am done ordering and now waiting, i keep praying this time round my bread will look different. you see, i grew up on Hotloaf-fresh-from-the-oven-not-yet-sliced-bread and the crusts... the crusts, crunchy and crumbly...were heavenly, it made bread feel complete. i could feed on the crusts only and be in a 'bread heaven,' but Cafe Pap denies me my pleasure trip all the time by bringing me my bread, well toasted...yes... but with the crusts cut off. i have never summoned the courage to tell them to leave the crusts on. i keep musing over the response,' madam, it cant fit in the toaster' 'but madam that is how we do it. 'madam, it looks better' 'madam who cares for crust!'
whaaaaat! i care for crusts...
so i am planning my next trip with a new resolve, i shall boldly ask for my bread...with the crusts on!

story of my life...5 years ago....its real..names changed but it was a typical day back then....

2009-12-06T02:02:00.000-08:00

It is beginning to drizzle and I don’t know what to write…or if I should write. Oh yeah…let me see…hmmm. Okay. Here goes…urrrghhh… I really don’t know what to say. Suddenly my room door flies open and my little sister, Olivia dashes in. I groan. Not that I do not want to see her, but not now when I am thinking and she is excited.
“Guesss what!”
“What?” I feign excitement.
“My gosh, guess who is coming? My gosh! My gosh!” Her fingers are all over the place, on her face, on her hair… and I’m thinking why I don’t get used to this drama everyday.
“Who?” I ask trying to look concerned lest she get hurt that I’m not interested in what interests her because when I do act that way, I sit down to lectures from her about being compassionate, showing love, and her revealing her undying love for me , which must, and I say it again, which must be punctuated at the end with a hug and about ten kisses. Ugh! I wonder where she gets these doses of emotion from. So to avoid the sentimental ceremony, I act interested.
“Uh-huh…my gosh, my gosh! I was jogging with Crista and you remember that boy next door…Ken…oh gosh…we actually got talking…okay…anyway.” She sighs, sits down.
“You won’t believe it…anyways. Remember we went jogging at 5:00 p.m. My trainers were wet…”
Oh no! my sister has got this habit of relating an event detail for detail. It drives everyone nuts, especially my big sister, so she pours it all on me because our older sister just won’t listen. Crista is actually our cousin, a real girl talking herself into believing she is a tomboy, goodness, teenagers!
“You were not listening!” Olivia looks really hurt.
“I was!” I retort “The boy from next door…chewing pancakes…Crista”
“ No!” she is definitely hurt “ the problem with you is that you never listen to me when I speak, yet me, I listen to you.”
I feel guilty, because she is like my secret box, I tell her everything. Oh! Jeez, I feel the lecture coming and I have to stop the flow before it becomes a house issue before a panel of my brothers and sisters to judge the case of Lucy who is forever thinking and writing and does not listen to her “secret box.”
“Sorry, I kinda missed it. What were you saying, I’m really sorry. Please, start over again. This time I promise I’ll be attentive, okay.” I’m crying inside and praying, oh Lord, gimme patience. This is really trying.
She lights up immediately.
“Any way, so, yeah…where did I stop…lemme start again.” I shed a silent tear for myself.
Christa walks in to announce the boy from next door was coming any time as pre arranged and that my phone number, against my will, or my permission had been given to him in case he wanted to talk to either of the girls. Okay…I’m okay with that really, it’s always happening and when I am away from home, it is worse; lots of phone calls from little boys and girls and I keep thinking, why can’t my friends call that often.
Crista seems excited and when she is, she’s got a way of keeping her hands right by her side and moving only her eyes and of course, lips and oh, her voice is deep and loud and punctuated with throaty giggles. As Crista talks, Olivia keeps throwing in her “anyways”, “oh my goshes”, and “for reals” and a whole bunch more that are only in her dictionary.
Then my brother Ivan walks it. When these three are together, you’ve met the link, as they call themselves. He looks very cool, calm and composed as usual. He’s holding a bundle of c.d’s- my c.d’s. he throws them roughly at me onto the bed.
“Easy!” I retort angrily.
“Sorry…I finished listening to them, do you have others.”
Kids, I mumble under my breath, all they want is what they can get from you. I’m sure my parents feel the same way about us. Now I know what it feels like, and I can brace myself for when my kids come.
Before I can reach out for the c.d’s, Olivia and Crista excitedly bubbling about Ken, comfortably plop onto my bed, push away all the papers roughly to one side, throw the pens wherever and I am staring in horror.
“Hey watch, it” I yell, “That’s important stuff.”
“But Lucy, you are always writing, writing…now what’s this?” Comments Ivan as he picks up a paper with one of my stories and starts to read, mimicking my voice, “I walked into the café…” I grab it from him.
“Hey, easy, easy,”
Thankfully my older sister walks in, holding a mingling stick.
“You guys, what do you want for supper, posho and peas or spaghetti?”
“Spaghetti,” everyone shouts.
“Okay,” she walks out.
The conversation resumes; it is Ken this, Ken that, Ken, Ken, Ken! I am trying to disconnect myself from the Ken talk but I find myself writing “Ken”.
“Listen, you girls” says my brother in his usual sarcastic way, “that boy, ah ah, he’s so fake.”

“He’s cool, Lucy isn’t he cool?” the girls protest.
“I guess so” I reply, I actually think he’s a bit proud, but I do not want to dampen their mood and sit for a lecture on not loving people’s passions.
Ivan interjects, “ He’s so tall! He’s thin like a stick! I think he even has grip.”
Grip is apparently slang for pimples, adapted from the feel of a good basketball. If it has got grip, it is a good ball because of the ridges and bumps on it.
My other little brother Benny walks in and has most probably heard the last comment because he is laughing absusrdly. It is the loudest, most annoying, most intimidating and yet funniest laugh you’d ever hear.
“Who has grip? Who has grip?”
The girls know they are in for it when Benny gets involved and when Ivan tells him that Ken who has grip is coming over for tea, he laughs louder and starts to tease, as expected.
“Olivia and Crista love Ken…they are up in a tree k.i.s.s.i.n.g. First comes love, then comes marriage…” I can tell this is the time when tempers start to flare, tears flow and there is laughing and teasing like mad. My room has become an oven of havoc. I do not think I am going to write anything unless I throw these kids out of my room.
“Okay, go quarrel from out there, all of you- go!”
Benny goes out singing “Olivia loves a boy with grip, you’ll marry him and your babies will have grip.” We all burst into laughter at this.
Olivia is mad, “Oh Shut up…” she begins.
I feel kind of bad for her, teasing is not her thing and Crista who is supposed to be her best friend is actually laughing with the rest of us.
“You guys are going to welcome Ken in your jogging clothes!” says Ivan, shaking his head.
“The grip boy?” shouts Benny.
“Ah...go away, go and play with your video games,” says Olivia, hurt and angry.
“Grip boy, grip boy” he runs out singing with Olivia hot on his heels” Stay away, it’s a girl thing anyway.”
“Grip boy, grip boy. Olivia loves a grip boy” Benny continues.
“Oh puhleeze, the line is getting stale,” I hear Olivia say.
Our youngest brother comes in “who has grip?’’ he inquires.
“No one!” Olivia is flustered, “I need to shower, Crista, Let’s go.”
Littlest brother follows, “tell me please, who has grip, I promise I won’t tell.”
And I chuckle… as though it had anything to do with telling or not telling. My room is vacated and quiet now. I sigh. Back to work…
Well… at least for quite some time before the gals comes in asking me for make up and nice tops or a certain pair of shorts or tee- shirt… little girls, I muse… well.. I guess that is what I should write about; little girls and the excitement caused by the opposite sex. I can hear them giggling and talking away about ken and a loud singing of ‘grip boy! Olivia loves grip boy’ punctuating the excitement… then… ‘Shut up! Get lost!..Speak to the hand! Puhleeze!’ spicing the air.

Not forgetting my big sister and Ivan laughing and my littlestest brother asking exasperatedly “who has grip? You people tell me! Ah! I’m going to tell daddy if you don’t”
Okay, I really have a crazy family… and if I don’t get out of here now I won’t write a thing… but I am curiously anticipating the ordeal between Ken, the girls and the rest…hmmm it could be a good story so for now story writing is suspendeds… the drizzle has died out and I think I need to step into this fun, maybe tell my littlest brother about the “grip boy” before he runs for parental enforcement . He does that a lot when we keep secrets from him… maybe laugh along…maybe tease, just maybe.

when they go too soon

2009-11-29T05:11:00.000-08:00

din't think i could let the month go by just like that, with hardly any more than 4 posts, now could i? It's been a hectic month and my mind and fingers along with the pens...key boards have had a hard time coordinating to produce anything magical or worth reading , so my brain has stored all that i hoped to write and i hope that when this season of business in someway becomes manageable (coz i see myself busier) then i guess i shall put something down worth guzzling.)
not forgetting

my Literature teacher passed on..
. i recieved the message with shock and memories of her flashed before my eyes in little snapshots,
snap!
playing scrabble at her home after running out of school to avoid being dragged onto the field for 100metre runs on the shool's sports day with her daughter, who taught me to be a rebel.

snap!

listening to her correct our phonetics and pronunciations first day in the literature class, telling Julian, a gal in my class,that that possibly cant be her name, its a boy's name, she must be 'Juliana' and you would think she was the midwife at birth. oh and telling me my surname is no where on the Native language radar of Uganda. 'Chihandae? where is that from?'
and Jaque that that is incomplete for Jacques a male name..so she better write her name as Jackie or Jacquelin

snap!

asking me to clean her chair and pulling out the largest biggest tissue roll i had ever seen and telling me to keep the rest.

Snap

asking me why i had failed literature paper two (plays and her paper) and giving me the greatest ever motherly advise that took me through that lit class. i remembered feeling elated, feeling i could do this for Her, to make her keep feeling proud of me
and i vowed never to fail that paper again... i didn't. my life was changed by a teacher who believed in me and let me know even when i had failed that i was a champion.

snap!

listening to her talk about her younger days

snap!
i just got nostalgic, thinking about secondary school, my literature class
oh and yeah being the teacher's pet then... of all my literature teachers.
being class prefect of the lit class, being privileged to go to their homes or be sent to their homes and being able to get presents from them, chocolates and etcs

i guess i owe my literature teachers alooooooot for my writing now, they pushed me to realise my potential. cant forget Mr Mugasa encouraging me, one day to the deadline for the writing competition with NABUTO to write... i wrote all night, running on coffee, a dim corridor light to compile my poetry collection.... and finally coming second in secondary level, scooping an award,and a prize....!

may you rest in Peace Mrs Tiromwe

the leak

2009-11-17T04:54:00.000-08:00

(A single from my anthology 'the elegy of love)

The leak in the ceiling had been getting bigger and bigger and when she left, we were both not sure if we had been too blind to see the empty cold clammy fingers of the raindrops that filtered into our lives- our beautiful home.
I am sure I can remember now what I had seen when I had dismissed it two months back as an insignificant dot. It never occurred to me that something so small could be a colossal invasion into a delicate structure put together with so much warmth and care- a year since we moved in. Suddenly the little dot, like a little weed was a leak crumbling the very core of what was¬¬¬¬¬¬¬__ home.
I wish I did not miss her, the way she read the morning paper, the way she laughed when he tickled her, the deft way she poured coffee from the coffee maker for them both and the way her hair gently blew into her narrow face when we walked together. I wished I did not miss them together.
The picture is all different now. Sam lives every day in a bubble, floating in and out of some dream and the puddle forming in our lives on the floor of our boarding has turned into a cold breeding nest for whatever vermin that aims to feed off the rotting tissue.
Once or twice he’s picked up a few boards, a saw and even a hammer and after a few haphazard attempts, we were back to where we were a few days later…awaken in the middle of a storm with the icy cold blob of a leak embracing a bare back or foot. When she saw it she tried to get it fixed, they talked about what was wrong, she did all she could, but I guess it was too late, the leak had eaten into the plaster so fast we had not noticed it was peeling away and yet, he was always tired, too tired to fix the ceiling.
Back then, it was nice to saunter in and sit by the fire, eat meatloaf with baked potatoes and have the usual trend of conversation passed back and forth punctuated with Becky’s loud shrill hearty laughter about the usual things- the zany neighbours and their outlandish kids that seemed to belong to the Addams Family, crazy traffic, work but most of all, the wedding plans. I loved that bit, I knew now we would be a family- a huge step into transforming the warmth engulfed in the house into something more intimate. After the hearty meal, as seemed the tradition cans of Heineken kept us absorbed in our Tuesday night show ‘I love Lucy.’
But since the leak grew, we talked and laughed a lot less and a lot tensed. There hung a cold apprehensive presence in the atmosphere…and when it was all silent, I could hear the faint drip drip drip sound, soft, slow almost impalpable but definitely there. It carried an uncomfortable dump draught with it and very soon a stale odor.
I heard them quarrel for the very first time a month before she left. She complained he was always tired, they never touched. Love that made them and brought them together was a strain tearing them apart and she was not sure he wanted to go on with it. He told her not to be crazy. There was nothing wrong. He wanted to get her pretty things, make money for them both to be happy and comfortable and she told him, for her to be happy, he needed to see the leak and fix it, the house was beginning to rot. They fought more and often; love was dying. She ate dinners alone, the leaks grew as frequent as her own tears widening the chasm within their lives, dampening all our spirits. Till we woke up one day and she was gone. And there was a bigger puddle at our feet. Overnight the leak had eaten into the wall and seeped progressively onto the ground.

Now as we sit back on the couch, two desolate bachelors staring at the bucket fill up with grimy water for the nth time that evening, the rugs stuffed against the weeping wall, Sam will lean back, flap my ears, kiss my shaggy head and sigh.
‘Why didn’t I do it earlier? Why didn’t I see it coming?’
I stare at him knowingly. ‘I didn’t not realize we were growing apart so fast.’ He will run his hand over my tawny tangled hairy back every night now. ‘I thought I was doing it for us; working hard for a life for us.’
I will bury my head between my paws and whimper, my thoughts always the same. We just refused to see the leak.

i dont huv a title... yet

2009-11-03T20:55:00.000-08:00

Revenge is a dish best served cold

Meaning: This saying suggests that if someone does something bad to us, it is better to pay them back later in time, not immediately. Vengeance may be more satisfying if it is not inflicted immediately.

I was watching Kill Bill the other day, actually all weekend, then before that on Friday, i watched Inglorious Basterds... i am so oozing Quentin Tarantino, his gorey yet hilarious way of 'skinning a rat,' makes him a Maestro at his film plots. now next to Mel Gibson, i think this guy is phenomenal . if you haven't watched Inglorious Basterds, i urge you to, i think Quentin outdoes himself in this movie. a must watch... only it has got my thinking twisted. next time i need to carry out some sick revenge
i will brood over it for years, then tell the victim, over a cup of tea or wine what i intend to do. how interesting, i used to think he was one of a kind, now i truly believe Quentin is the future for cinema...

rejection....soulful....

2009-11-01T04:40:00.000-08:00

i am working on my second book. yup second coz i already have my first book published by fountain publishers, 'Brave Kemi,' can you imagine... it was the first coolest shortening of a name that came to me.... hope you don't mind Mrs B2B...
ANYHO , so i am working on my second book, a collection of short stories which i have changed twice coz the computer died and ate the stories so i hat to retrieve some and changed them... still searching for a title coz the first title was ...exact...now... i am still searching for something deeper....i am looking at the heart of the stories. my first rejection came then.
i wanna publish form out there, somewhere. so i sign up to this agent looking for writers to promote and l look at his work contact him...blablabla. anyway so i send him samples of my book
and i get the response after two days. i did not feel so overly turned away when i read his 'sorry, i dont promote this sort of genre but you can try someone else. thank you for keeping in touch.'
ouch!
i recalled so many writers that were bestseller authors after 40 rejections and a twinge of excitement shot through me, i was now one of them... a to-be- bestselling author!
anyway despite that hopeful thought i have been really slow about posting my work to another publishing house that is hounding me down to send in my work ASAP. and i think the first rejection really got to me.

anyho, I've been sleeping at 4am trying to patch up the stories. my only companions, tea and my top three songs,(they are all number ones in my book,) play repeat until i am done

1.Sean Kingston - Face drop
1.Shayne Ward- No, you hung up
1.Simply Red and Michael Bubble's version of - A song for you

oh ho, you need to listen to that song, soulful, melancholic, deep, meaningful(to me at least) this one version is by Donny Hathaway, it was danced to in the 1st season of 'so you think you can dance,' that's when i first fell for it after hearing its remix by Bizzybone

ladies and gentle men, i present y
to you..

a song for you
enjoy

Donny Hathaway - A Song for You

I've been so many places in my life and time
I've sung a lot of songs I've made some bad rhyme
I've acted out my love in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

I know your image of me is what I hope to be
I've treated you unkindly but darlin' can't you see
There's no one more important to me
Darlin' can't you please see through me
Cause we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

LIGHTER SHADE OF PALE

2009-10-26T07:30:00.000-07:00

Just plagiarized that title from ‘love notes’ (which I think is a fresh approach to romantic dramas… after rolling my eyes all through ‘over her dead body'.) it’s not really a hobby- watching movies… especially lame ones to come up with some reviews…it puts food on the table.
Okay watching the movie btn music videos as well and one of my favourites just played, from the Fiction Family, ‘when she’s near,’ so had to pause the movie to watch it. Lovely video; black and white colour setting (l love sepia, black white and whatever else that isn’t colour unless it’s a worthy watch) anyway, with a nostalgic sense of the 60’s. Sounds something of a cross between the Beatles and the Zombies with the artists all in a sixties sorta dress, hairstyle…it makes me happy. I love antiques, old dusty gramophones and such.
Music…the noise without.
Lately it’s been work, work and more work. When I get home, drop dead tired, All I want is my food, the TV, music…and some alone- silence that I never let myself into
Somehow the silence is scary. I am not quite sure I want to know what’s going on within. IT SHOWS ON THE OUTside and I still don’t want to investigate… crying over soapy things even La Tormenta, not wanting company, freaked out stone cold by all the things I loved to watch…horrors and psycho thrillers… I keep the light on in my room or draw the curtains way back for some light from the church beyond my walls to spill its rays right into my room. Then I check the gate, double check the back door, check the rooms and go to bed, listening for a while to the sound without… I fall asleep before I can get to the noise within…
Yesterday, for thirty minutes, the lights went out in the neighborhood. I was dog tired but still stared at my PC , the phone, the TV flipped channels. I know I just need some noise for the sake of it…hiding. Then the lights out, I could not hide anymore. It has been hot, so hot these past days, so I dragged my chair out and slouched innit, sipping on a glass of ice cold sprite that’s been neglected in my fridge since the BBQ. It’s the only cold thing around, so…. And for the first time in three weeks, the noise within grew louder, became clearer. The cool breeze, crescent moon, the dust particles , it was perfect, except the lack of silence without… the noise within grew like a wave crushing on a shore…harder and faster with each thrust and the mud and sea weed that washed up and stayed, I knew I had to face. I could not hide from the pain, the unresolved hollow questions, anger… I tried not to cry. I hated to feel like this; so empty without my work and my noise without… I wanted out but the still small voice told me, I would be okay. But I knew the price… I am not ready to pay… I picked my phone scrolled through for someone to talk to, my sis on my mind…but its late, she’s tired…I tried through to others then sighed. I did not have airtime. Too lazy to grab any. Too glad to not to… then the lights came on again…and I sighed with relief as the TV and Laptop and radio came on… and once again, I was swallowed up by the noise without.

now there is this one too, wait for the one on women!

2009-10-11T08:31:00.000-07:00

For every woman who wants to know what her man is thinking.

Internationally syndicated radio superhost and columnist, controversial psycho-therapist, and author of the break-out New York Times bestsellers How Could You Do That?! and Ten Stupid Things Women Do to Mess Up Their Lives, Dr. Laura Schlessinger is back with Ten Stupid Things Men Do to Mess Up Their Lives. In ten vital, compelling chapters, Dr. Laura speaks her mind on:
Stupid Chivalry
By getting involved with the wrong woman (weak, flaky, damaged, needy, desperate, stupid, untrustworthy, immature, etc.) you think that your love will save/transform her.

Stupid Independence
Unwilling to admit "need" for bonding and intimacy, you hide in excesses of work, play, drink, drugs, porn, and meaningless sex.

Stupid Ambition
Unable to comfortably and proudly accept your inherent importance to society and family as husband and father, you bow to the false idols of money, toys, power, and status.

Stupid Strength
Uncomfortable with feeling weak, vulnerable, useless, powerless, or rejected, you use intimidation, force, or passive-aggressiveness to regain control.

Stupid Sex
Taking an attraction, opportunity, or erection as a "sign," you measure your masculinity and power by sexual conquests, infidelities, and orgasms.

Stupid Matrimony
Lacking a mature sense of the purpose, meaning, or value of marriage, you realize too late you've gone down the aisle with the wrong woman for the wrong reasons and feel helpless to "fix it."

Stupid Husbanding
Thinkingthat marriage is the honorable discharge from loving courtship, you continue to live as though you were single and your "mommy-wife" will take care of everything else.

Stupid Parenting
Believing that only women/mothers nurture children, you withdraw from hands-on parenting to assert your masculine importance, missing out on the true "soul food" of a child's hug.

Stupid Boyishness
Having not yet worked out a comfortable emotional and social understanding with your mother, you form relationships with women that become geared to avenge, resolve, or protect you from your ties to Mommy.

Stupid Machismo
Understanding the true and meaningful difference between being male and a man, you can become a man.

one for the rain

2009-10-08T02:42:00.000-07:00

ONE OF THOSE JOKES THAT MAKES YOUR BOTCH APPOINTMENTS, LUNCHDATES, ETC BEARABLE IN A HEAVY DOWN POUR...LIKE NOW

Bongani grew up in Johannesburg. He went to law school in London after his studies he decided to go back to Johannesburg, because he could be a big powerful man and he opened his new law office.

The first day, he saw a man coming up to his office and decided to make a big impression.

As the man came to the door, Bongani pretended to be on the phone and motioned the man to take a seat.

Bongani spoke into the phone: "No, Absolutely no. You tell those clowns in New York that am not travelling all the way that side to settle the case for less than a million bucks.

"Yes. The Appeals Court has agreed to hear the case next week.
"I'll be handling the primary argument and the other members of my team will provide support.

"Okay. Give the State Prosecutor my regards and ..."

The visitor sat patiently as Bongani rattled instructions.

Finally, Bongani put down the telephone and said: "I'm sorry for the delay, but as you can see, I'm very busy. What can I do for you?"

The man said: "I'm from Telkom... I've come to connect your phone."

self-help

2009-10-04T04:49:00.000-07:00

know thy self- Socrates

from the moment i could say 'MAMA' I havent been too proud to say i am abit dysfunctional and need alot of help like the rest of the world. i believe in counselling not just for traumatized rape victims but for everyday life and i esteem relationships of all sorts further higher up the life ladder than work itself because at the end of ones life, like Rick Warren says (or was it Dale Carnegie) you wont ask for your medals and degrees but for your close friends and loved ones...so my quest in life has been to seek out true love, true beauty, true people.... and they are few. we are so marred, so broken by the imperfect world we live in and we conform to the way that has become...distorted and forget there is a better way, a higher way to live and be and thus we gnash in abject mediocrity which i told myself i would not succumb to.(i am not ashamed to say i am still traditional and believe in sex after marriage, friendship for courtship,and waiting for as long as it takes for a man on the same page as I)
now the highest level of communication between humans lies in the intimate connection between a man and a woman and for a man or woman to live in insecurity of the mate they have chosen goes to show the rocky foundation their relationship is on and maybe in a few years will either straighten out depending on how much they are willing to work at it or...it will end speedily. now instead of wasting alot of time looking through rose coloured glasses hopping the man or woman you think you love will change, yet dealing with insecurity, pain, unnecesssary fights, how about squaring your shoulders hitting the high road and believing for better than this!(a bitter pill to swallow, believe me , i know) our greatest hinderance is fear. Fear that no one will want you, you are getting old, you prolly have kids, your esteem is so low coz of the continual lousy relationships that have disillusioned you to a point that crumbs are worth settling for, the fear of the pain of breaking up, the fear, the fear...its all in the fear and more... i am a self -help junkie and believe you me,all the books ive read, tests, ive done, therapy and counselling sessions and counsellors i have met,has paid off, i understand myself so intricately, i understand people and issues alot better than many people i find (who live on the hindsight of their issues or are just shallow, too macho, too self righteous),within thirty minutes of a converstaion, i can tell whats wrong with their relationship and how they can fix it. just last night i was reading this book i accidentally got from my sis

in the forward of this book, this Doc Laura Schlessingeris a licensed marriage and family therapist, the author of ten New York Times bestsellers, and a regular columnist for NewsMax, a number one female talk-show host and the third-most-listened-to talk-show host in America... talks about how today's 'insta-culture' has separated the beautiful intimate promise of sex to just something you do when you feel the 'rush' plus it not being only okay but necesarry to be sexually experimental including a number of techniques, partners and genders and that 'what women dont allow, men wont and cant do' and the wise advice from a listener to her radio show 'be sure before you say I do , know the man in ALL four seasons (in entirety).
she talks of traditional courtship and what it used to be. i like the way she says it " courtship is gone, "instant"-intimacy is in. 'hooking up' is the catch word of the day. that means having sex beofre you even know the person's middle name. hooking up and shacking up are not about being in love with ideals, goals,and promises historically inherent in such proximity. HOOKING UP AND SHACKING UP are about having but without true giving and when it stops giving, dont worry, just go some place else hook-up and shack up all over again and again and again. hook ups and shack ups have no depth, no promise, no attachment, no contentment, no meaning' they do not demonstrate assumed value of participants. the saddest calls comes from women and men who after years of shacking up(and maybe a baby or two) want to marry only to find that the other person enjoys this perpetual state of uncertainity. the most annoying calls come from men and women who after years of shacking up decide that this really isnt 'the one' and its time to move on"

she clearly defines courtship as a platform that provided an opportunity for men and women to develop a friendship, an understanding, a true knowledge of another. a time of flirtatiousness and chivalry it was also a time to discuss religion,work family,children,homes,philosophy and to see how respective familes could function together. courtship was about taking time to learn about another in depth to decide whether or not to become intimate."

now, this sure does take alot out of the pain when you decide to walk away, dont you think?
Better than having to deal with the pain of betrayal, feeling 'used' , consequences like abortion, unwanted kids,cheating, abuse in all its forms and etc after messing up

now these are the chapter lineups in the book.

1. Stupid Secrets
Withholding important information for fear of rejection

2. Stupid Egotism
Asking not what you can do for the relationship but only what the relationship can do for you

3. Stupid Pettiness
Making a big deal out of the small stuff

4. Stupid Power
Always trying to be in control

5. Stupid Priorities
Consuming all your time and energies with work, hobbies, errands, and chores instead of focusing on your relationship

6. Stupid Happiness
Seeking stimulation and assurance from all the wrong places to satisfy the immature need to feel good

7. Stupid Excuses
Not being accountable for bad behavior. learn to apologise!

8. Stupid Liaisons
Not letting go of negative attachments to friends and relatives who are damaging to your relationship

9. Stupid Mismatch
Seeing the red flags clearly and yet you stay around trying to put a square peg in a round hole. Not knowing when to leave and cut your losses

10. Stupid Breakups
Disconnection for all the wrong reasons

you know what relationships are hard work and alot of commitment,
let me give it to you hard and straight, so unless you are a whole individual (meaning complete in your ownself,knowing who you are not as defined by someone else or circumstance, independent, pursuing your own goals, free of past aches, pains and entanglements, sober, mature and not deperate to be loved, looked after and cared for) give relationships a big break.
dating and marriage should be less about infatuation, lust and its relatives but about the compatability you share... religion, morals,purpose mostly purpose.(when the goosebumps of passion wear out and your relationship was based on that..what next?) you should get married as single whole individuals, that is a healthy relationship ,not because you are looking for the other person to fill the emptiness or sort your dysfunctional life like some God, coz we can all do so much and we all have lives to live with or without a partner...so be Absolutely sure about your mate and if the red flags go up about someone, please dont hesitate. the good and bad news about breaking up is; good news, you are free to make a 'best' choice' a better match. bad news; the pain lasts for a while.

by the way it is possible...dont let this insta-culture decieve you it aint possible!
have a great week!

S.O.S

2009-10-02T09:30:00.001-07:00

hey i am broke. anyone wants to sort a sister out for the weekend atleast.
well, here is my shopping list
1. toilet paper (strictly white)
2. bathing soap (strictly family size dettol gentle or ...the other antiseptic soap)
3. oranges, lemons, water melon and paw paw for juice
4. organic sugar (you need to get in touch with my pastor, hes the only one i know who knows where to get it)
5. pads!!! ( 'feathers' please!'always' is nauseating)
6. toothpaste (the whitening one with granules...closeup i think)
7. plus a tooth brush.. i like new tooth brushes...purple in colour please and twisted all over as if some kids toy...you know those toothbrushes...)
8.deodorant (vanilla fields please)
9. spray (appletinni or some victorai secret spray that is Apple or green tea... or both)
10. please throw in some chocolate
11. i need pork, its only 7500 a kilo
12. rice(organic please)
13. decaffeinated coffee and some skimmed milk
14. irish potatoes. (looove those)
15. crackers
16. tomatoes, carrots (lots of em) green pepper, chillies, avocado, cauliflower and cucumber.(all at the market)
15. and of course some pocket money.
thank you...

i will be waiting on you to call and volunteer.
thanks!

you are allllll far too kind.

week-ends!

2009-09-27T05:27:00.000-07:00

the rule for all my weekends especially Saturday, was stay in all day, clean up and just be lazy all day flipping channels, eating and sleeping. but of late, its been filled with scrabble games, meetings, tea somewhere, dinner, and the latest,an exciting BBQ (last weekend at my place..)it was great hanging with my boys and a few of my gals and getting them to mingle and know each other; and like i hadn't had enough nyama kyoma, i over did myself again on Sunday with my relatives! and this weekend started on a Thursday:
the birde and groom expo dinner was lovely. i am not a sucker for weddings and their nitty gritties but i loved the display and the models!
when i get the pics i will let you in on a model i totally loved. she was the definition of graceful on the catwalk while a number of them fought to sway and look fierce... which just didnt cut it! but her..., her!Lorrrrrd! she floated with ease and elegance and made me want to rewind time back to the day when i effortlessly graced the catwalk in school. she was a goddess, i totally landed for her performance. then there was one i anticipated a fall...and she did stumble. i could imagine how terrible she felt as she went behind stage prolly saying 'oh my God, oh My God! I ALMOST FELL!" She didnt surface again till the last show case from Sylvia Awori.Stella Atal, Brenda Maraka had unique interesting wedding gowns to display, i thought they were gurrreeeeeaaat!
anyway then a sickle-cell fund-raising dinner on Friday that knocked 'Boston Legal' off my 'to do ' lists was lovely too, i had never seen Navio perform till then. and just when i thought i would sleep in Sato, i still had stuff to do, and appointments to keep. the highlight being meeting up a good old friend who came in to the country from the states three weeks ago. it was great catching up over dinner at Centinary Park before he dropped me off home. and today i just want to go home and chill, long week ahead , so much to do and so much to pray over, wisdom to glean and 'to-do-priority' lists to make!
enjoy your week people.
'your life is only as beautiful and fulfilling as you want it to be!'
mwaaah!