RANDOM: WFT's He On About...?

Ok so I'm jobless today...well not quite jobless exactly. I have a post I'm working on but as a stop gap I have a 'lil competition for you. As everyone is doing Independence Bonanzas, giving crazy ass discounts up to 50% sef (like really...discounts? In Naija...if the business owner don't make at least cost price + 10 that discount ain't cutting it) and people are planning on extended weekends (YAY...fucking...NOT...another day wasted due to public holidays...but I digress) I said to myself ...

ME: "Dang baby...why don't you and I...also known as WE *please note this is the royal WE here o* also known as Me do something crafty to bring new users to the fold" (Shamefacedly...I admit...this conversation really did take place...and yes I talk to myself...but...isn't that normal?)

SELF: "Hmmm...sounds like a plan! How we gonna swing that?"

We thought and pondered. Well I thought and pondered, Myself just lounged like a houri in a (شيخ)‎ Shaykh's seraglio sipping Turkish coffee. Me and myself have this interesting dichotomy going on. I...that is Me...am the stronger, more dominant personality, while Myself...hmmm...X_x...*nuff said!* so basically I run the show and she...Myself...tags along for moral support...however she would readily dispute the question of whom wears the pants between us *in reality...she never wears any pants...shhhh! You didn't hear that noggin of information from moi...shhhhhush!*. Confused yet? No? Well here's guessing you're on Team Gemini (Go Gemini *fist pump*) :-D.

Anyways, me and myself and our coz "I", thanks to inspiration from twitter and all the crazies I know there *mad love for y'all...birds of a feather and all that crap* and also from all the Nigerian 'artists' who daily produce "one-" hit (?) wonders of sound that have we the listening public scratching our heads and looking Homer Simpson-ish with a priceless "What the fuck is he on about?" expression tattooed across our faces, came up with the notion to do a "WTF Does That Mean" competition. The offending word for today is 'Utunu'.

Now in my magnanimosity and in the spirit of Nigeria being 50 (and my desire to extend my fan base *devilish smiley* Muahahahahaha! >:-D) I am offering a special anniversaire gift to the reader of this post who comes up with the most interesting, funny and downright kolo definition of the target word.

Rules:

• You must be following me on twitter
• You must be be a follower of my blog *straight face*
• You must include your twitter handle so I know it's you
• You are entitled to submit a maximum of 5 separate entries. (tweets are not inclusive)
• You must be resident in Nigeria
• All entries must be posted as a comment *transparency is our motto*
• Entries after 12 Midnight 30th September 2010 are null, void and the sender shall be shipped of to Tibet and be forced to be sex slave to a Yeti.

The process of selection is open-secret balloting *there's an oxymoronic statement if ever there was one*. There are two rounds. The first round is the initial submission and then shortlisting by a panel of expert judges *namely Me, Myself and I...go figure*.

The best five *IMHO* will then be presented to the public and the best definition as judged by the readers (via polling) shall be declared the undisputed heavyweight champion of Utunu, and will be contacted so that their prize can be sent across! Voting starts 3-Oct and ends 9-Oct. The winner will be announced on the 10th. Sounds good? Good!

Okay so get creative, get mad, get whatever...and maybe you get the "GIFT"! If you haven't heard the song 'Good Lurving' yet...>> Good Lurvin' - Lynxx ft Whiz Kid (mp3).

Now who says I ain't never done nothing for ya!? ;-)

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Randomly Random

Hello all,
Sorry I've been MIA but I've been more or less brain-dead. Nothing and I do mean NOTHING has come to mind to write about. I could claim Writer's block but this one pass that one sef. I'm thinking more like Life Block. My life is totally uninspiring as a source of material. This is therefore a random review of the nothing that has turned to my life.

• Moms has started again. The usual "When are you gonna get married?" discussion don start again. SMMFH. #isthatwhywearehere? Abeg make una help me beg her to free me jare! The joke is no longer funny. Is it by forced sef? I told her straight up I have no plans whatsoever of ever...EVER getting hitched. That shut her up sharpish. I think she has started prayer and fasting on my head. My coz has even started towing the 'when we go wear your ashebi' cart. My sister and her hubby have started sef. Na wa for poor lil me. It isn't that I don't wanna get hitched one day but must I settle?

I've always wondered why they call it settling down sef. To me settle means to manage or make do with...almost as if better no dey. Then to worsen the matter they added the word DOWN to the equation. It's bad enough you're managing the man...now you're moving DOWN into oblivion not UP to a new plateau. This is just me being random.

• I've come to the opinion that I'm just a pushover! Well only where Boyfriend is concerned. We finally broke up. For all of three weeks. Men! I just don't understand them and really I don't think I wanna anymore *there...I've said it! I finally admit defeat* Life was so much easier when I didn't give a hoot! Now I'm a goddamn owl *hoot hoot* RME. Anyways as I was saying we went to Splitsville NY. He broke up with me *or rather I made him call it quits* over a supposed ultimatum I gave him. I said "Cool. Nice knowing you. Adios." Was really patting self on the back for being a real trooper about it. No tears. No hysterics. Almost shook his hand as I walked him to his car. Fast-forward three weeks. In his new apartment *Don't ask me how I got there*

ME: Ok I have to go.
HIM: Okay. We dilly-dally at the door.
ME: Remember you broke up with me o!
HIM: Nah I didn't.
ME: Yeah you did. (*rewind and repeat 10 times*)
HIM: You know I can't do without you *I later read this same line on the TT #liesmentell...nuff said*
ME: (naked in bed) *X_x*.

So we're back on the merry-go-round and nought has changed. Like really FMFL. I'm so dick whipped I'm like a runaway slave that got caught and got splayed. I need deliverance o! This juju wey BF use hold me suppose don reach to expire sef *now calling NAFDAC*. Oh well let the pain (re-)begin.

 • I got a BB at last and I still don't understand the hype. For me it's just a very expensive way to avoid buying airtime to make calls. Well that is IM- not so -HO.

 • I had a dream about one of the peeps I ff on twitter. I shall never be able to look at him without going beetroot purple. Let's just say if it were ever turned to a skin flick they'd have to think of a whole new rating system cos XXX-rated just wouldn't cut it. Now praying I have an opportunity to get him pissed *aka legless aka shit-faced aka wasted ok you get the picture* and try out the scene concerning furry handcuffs, PVC, shower fixtures and ice-cream. However I am worried about the link between Erectile Dysfunction, premature ejaculation and alcohol so I guess I'll just have to talk the pants off of him :-). Ok too much info don't wanna scare him off in case he *by some fluke of technology* gets to read this.
PS: I've just realised that the BB doesn't recognise the words erectile and ejaculation or maybe it was the combination with the words dysfunction and premature. Hmmm!

• My two friends got hitched. I almost *almost mind you* leaked a tear. Met up with some members of my twit-fam and even recognised one of em by their avatar. Why is this surprising? Her avatar is a booty shot. Very compelling ASSets I must say *o ya feel free to groan. Even I groaned while typing that weak ASS pun :-D X_x there I go again*

• Wayne Rooney allegedly paid a hooker £1200 a night *math cap on* that's like N305,000 a session. Now re-evaluating my career choices *osho free don end from henceforth*. And na who be the maga wey talk say ashi no be work? Did I mention she sold her story for a further £400k *do your own mathematics here the zeros are giving me migraine*

• I've decided that I don't like children. Strange considering I have three of them *well my kids are cool* but really kids suck. It's my uncles and aunts that have me on this tip. Gramps died in June and they're there squabbling about a bunch of BS. Meanwhile the man was bedridden for 8 *yes EIGHT* fucking years and they never came to see him. Even till now none of them have even been to the mortuary to confirm that it is really THEIR father there. If this is the reward for giving life and raising children maybe barrenness isn't such a bum deal! Anyway I jump and pass. My children shall never cause me such grief. However...retirement plan will definitely cover such a contingency. Once again I say...kids suck.

• I'm gonna start divorce procedures soon against a lot of my friends. This random post should serve as notice to them and if they fail to receive the notice...well...tough luck cookie! *as good friends they should be stuck on my blog like a stamp to a letter innit?*

Before you complain about this post been bereft of purpose or point I did tell y'all I had nought to write about so I'm just rambling randomly with no rhyme nor rhythm to this post. And that is that.

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)


13th Sept 2010: 
ADDENDUM:
Some people complained about the use of abbreviations in this writeup so here is a brief translation of the lexicon used.


SMMFH: Shaking my muthafucking head
RME: Rolling my eye(ball)s
X_x: Eyes covered (in shame)
BB: Blackberry
TT: Trending topic; a topic of interest on Twitter
FMFL: Fuck my fucking life
BF: Boyfriend 
IMHO: In my humble opinion
NAFDAC: Please google

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Death By Politically Correct Means

Death by Politically Correct Means

“The right of the one ends where that of the other begins”

SCENE 1 ACT 1

JASMINE: Mom, I’d like to introduce you to [INSERT NAME].
JASMINE’S MOM: Hello, young man, how are you?
BOO: I’m fine thank you ma’am.

…

SCENE 1 ACT 2

MOM: So Jasmine who is [INSERT NAME] to you?
JASMINE: Mama, he’s my unpaid sex worker, I hope you liked him?
Mother turns ashen, splutters and faints
…

Setting: Hospital morgue
POLICE OFFICER: So Doctor…can you narrow down the cause of death? We’re trying to rule out murder given the fact Mrs. M had no history of heart disease.
CORONER: Well Detective, I’m sorry to inform you it was murder.
POLICE OFFICER: Doctor…are you certain? You KNOW this is a high profile case in the making?
CORONER: Unfortunately Detective, it can be no other way. All forensic evidence leads us to only one conclusion…
POLICE OFFICER: What?
CORONER: Mrs. M was a victim of…
Police Officer cuts in
POLICE OFFICER: Damnit man…spit it out already!
CORONER: Mrs. M was a victim of…Death by Political Correctness…as is obvious from the shocked look on her face

SCENE 1 ACT 3

Setting funeral.
Enter left stage:
JASMINE: Bye-Bye Mommy (sobbing)
Exit left stage
Curtain falls

I’m kinda tired of bleeding heart liberals…and NO this is not an expression of my political leaning. It is a statement about Political Correctness and its stifling and strangulating grip on freedom of expression. In the course of respecting the rights of others hasn’t the right of self been trampled upon?

I miss the good ol’ days of senseless violence, gratuitous sex and nudity and gruesome decapitations interposed for the shock value and nothing more. I miss the days of self-expressionism and convoluted discordance called art. Now we have censorship of word, deed and thought.

In the bid not to step on anyone’s toes hasn’t the motion of Id and Ego been trampled and regressed by the Collective groupthink syndrome? Point in case, the use of certain words and phrases have been termed offensive, rude, downright spiteful, gender insensitive, etc etc and the use of them frowned upon. The use of everyday words like “chairman” has been substituted with “chairperson” even when it’s quite obvious the person on the dais is of determinable gender. Any word remotely gender bias is taboo, feminism and feminists must be appeased. Use of words like ‘retarded’ (remember the song by B. E. P titled ‘Let’s Get Retarded’ that had to be re-titled ‘Let’s Get it Started’ in a bid to be PC), ‘blind’, ‘deaf’ and co is the quickest route to social suicide, a real social faux pas. The correct words “special”, “visually impaired”, “audio impaired” et al. Now I can understand the need for sensitivity with these but don’t I have the right to be retarded in my speech? And even if I don’t say it out loud does that stop me from thinking it?

As much as regard for the next man…oops sorry…person is essential, my freedom to be un-PC is my God-given right, and even some of the supposedly PC terms are just plain dumb. I was listening to a radio show awhile back and PC was the topic, or rather politically correct phrases for everyday items and situations. I shudder to think how much money the morons, just to tell me that I can’t call a book a book or call my partner “my boyfriend” anymore, spent on research. Nope…no can do anymore, I must now introduce him as my “unpaid sex worker”.

Fuck PC…my boyfriend remains my boyfriend and even if I’m fifty I have no intention of actually letting my Moms know who I’m bedding if it isn’t legal sex…i.e. we aren’t married. And isn’t it even more insulting to call your lover a sex worker…even if they’re unpaid? A sex worker is a hooker plain and simple…whether for a C-note or an I. O. U! Random aside: if a boyfriend or girlfriend is an unpaid sex worker, what’s a wife? According to my Pops she’s a “Home Manager”, according to me she’s a glorified domesticated sex slave…and the bummer is she doesn’t get paid no salary…unless it’s alimony (who’m I kidding alimony and child support do not exist in Naija).

Now the censor is not reserved to just speech, it is extended to all avenues of expression…music…art…film…literature…dress. Every facet of human life has fallen prey to censorship and political correctness. A few months ago the Actors’ Guild of Nigeria’s president was talking about the removal of kissing etc from Nollywood movies and I scratched my head in wonder. Isn’t art also supposed to be a reflection of the prevailing societal reality? If a couple in the throes of new passion are together in a locked room wouldn’t they engage in some heavy petting if not the actual act of getting buck wild? Would their kisses be chaste and bland…or would it conjure up thoughts of fire and yes…raw sexual passion and get one’s blood roaring? Don’t married couples have sex? Don’t people have gratuitous sex and one night stands…without emotional entanglements and sentiment in real life…here in Naija? And who has the right to say what and whatnot I should view?

What about music? How many times have songs been placed on the NBC’s NTBB list for no apparent reason other than the fact that someone in the Commission interpreted a phrase to be suggestive? A case being a song by a Port Harcourt based artist that dealt with childhood, first love and growing up. The use of the word ‘bia-bia’ was thought by the NBC to refer to pubic hair (in their on twisted logic) when it is quite obvious to the listening public (and as explained by the artiste) that the hair referred to was facial hair (i.e. beard or moustache) which pronounces the change from a boy to a man. And what of the song “Big Boy” by El Dee the Don? For the life of me I still can’t understand the reasoning behind that one. Or how about the infamous banning of Femi Kuti’s “Bang, Bang, Bang” which although definitely sexual in nature was not as explicit as the Western music that assaulted and still assaults our ears on the daily with overtly sexual titles and lyrics like “Birthday Sex” by Jeremih and “Re-invented Sex” by Trey Songz are daily on our airwaves.

For children I can understand the need to censor and coddle…their minds are too immature to distinguish between fact and fiction, between right and wrong and shouldn’t be exposed to adult themes, but that’s why a rating system exists n’est pas? But even the prevention of undue exposure is the responsibility of the parent. I mean…really…what’s a ten year old kid doing up by 11pm watching TV?

Censorship takes away my right to decide for myself whether a thing is good for me or not. It removes my right to choice, and actually is a slap on the face because it says I’m too stupid to make a decision. If I wish to watch scenes of violence and deviant sexual acts is it not my right? I don’t really like porn and I think it is exploitative thus I don’t watch it…my right…my choice, but just because I don’t watch it doesn’t mean I’ll say everyone else shouldn’t watch it…their right…their choice. I will not impose my moral codes and beliefs on them, that would make me a dictator!

Worse still, censorship is a form of mind-control, the powers that be wish to determine, create and control the thoughts of the individual. The creation of automatons and “dolls” preconditioned to think, feel and speak no new thoughts, bring no new wisdom and most importantly brook no opposition. The imposition of the collective ideal stems and stifles the growth of radicalism and radical minds. And change is brokered by the radical…and the expressionist freethinker. Those in the position to impose norms and ethical standards are themselves not more ethically minded, or of a superior moral grade than those they would control, but tend to be more debase, but as the Pharisees of old preach the gospel of “do as I say not as I do”.

So I say death to censure, death to censor, death to groupthink that wishes to turn us all to mindless conformist drones, death to stifling repressions of expression, and death to political correctness. Viva la libertie…long live freedom. I know many will disagree with this evaluation…as is their (and your) right, but feel free to add your thoughts on this by leaving a comment.

And my parting shot…If God in His infinite wisdom gave Man the Gift of Freewill…abused as it may be…who is the man that shall dare to take it away?

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Why Do Fools Fall In Love?

“Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” is both the title of a song done in the 60s by a singer called Frankie Liman and a movie done in the 90s about the same singer’s rise, fall and tragic death starring Halle Berry, Vivica Fox et al. it is also a question that has undoubtedly been asked by every poor sap who has ever had the molecularly devastating experience of having fallen in love…particularly with the wrong someone…i.e. 90% of the human race.

But seriously…why do people fall in love? I used to believe it was a matter of choice, we ‘choose’ to love an individual! Plain and simple…no neuroscience involved…simple choice. For reasons best known to the ‘faller’ they fall for the ‘fallee’.

My Dad “the fountain of all relationship wisdom”, has another theory…and I kinda like this one… “Falling in love is a form of psychosis”. Well at least in the early ‘heart racing, dry mouth, tingling nerves’ stage [NB: These symptoms are nearly identical to those experienced during the onset of a stroke, so kindly see a physician before assuming it’s love…you just might save a life…your own! *tongue in cheek* K] A veritable cocktail of mental and physical ailments.

Let’s look at it…what else but love, drugs (on a very bad trip) and mental illness (pregnancy included) can have a person run a gauntlet of extreme emotions in the space of five minutes: euphoria, racing pulse, tears, dryness of throat, palpitations, constricted breathing, sweaty palms, lack of concentration, excessive perspiration, temporary loss of speech, forgetfulness, daydreaming and manic depression. Love is SO good it makes you ill J. Now that, as I said, is Dad’s view *the genesis of my cynical p. o. v with regard to relationship maybe?* and it doesn’t help the case of love that the chemicals released by the body when in love are the exact same ‘feel good’ endorphins generated by something as innocuous as eating great chocolate. If I was running an ad for a choco bar it would read….

“Wanna feel real love? Without the heartbreak? Eat *Insert product name* and NEVER fall out of LOVE”

And an added point in choco’s favour is that dark chocolate is even kind to your heart…unlike love.

Another school of thought believes we love “just because”! Just because it is our nature to love. Those of a religious incline go a step further and say because our cosmic Creator is pure love we in His image are love and gravitate towards love. Nice try…but if I reference and loosely paraphrase the Bible (or even the Q’uran, Torah etc) and use modern day “religion’ as a reference point “Man by nature is bloody EVIL and sits down all day crafting, plotting and planning MASSIVELY GREAT mischief to do” (very, very, very loosely paraphrased but you get the drift, abi?)…and so saith the Lord! Now who am I to contest the word of the Highest Authority? Then again we were made in His image (depends on your religious p. o. v) and as the saying goes in Christendom “God is LOVE” so maybe be we ARE structured emotionally and spiritually to be givers and receptacles of love.

Whatever the reason (chemistry, biology, spirituality etc) LOVE is, has been, and shall ever be the elusive El Dorado that treasure seekers have sought, seek and will continue to seek. So the question still remains…why do fools (*points* YOU…yes you…you follow too) fall in love? If you know please let us know too, thanks…ok bye!

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Komustaka!!!

Komustaka all...my youngest daughter is teaching me Tagalog and that simply means "hello"! I've been M. I. A for ages, so first off..."Bonne Anniversaire" and a very belated "Bon Noel". I'm still suffering from a writer's block, my mind is a blank page and I'm mentally dyslexic...the words all get jumbled up, however I still read. In my Facebook in-box I came across a poem by a young man called Rudboy Adidi c/o a poetry group I'm a member of called "WORDS NOT SWORDS". Please feel free to join if you're a poet (closet and otherwise)

I won't start yapping about what the theme is or what the poem's about...read it for yourself and THINK!!!.

What If I Did?

As I sat there in English class, I stared at the girl next to me.
She was my so-called "best friend". I stared at her long, silky hair.
I wished she were mine,
but she didn't notice me like that.
And I knew it.
After class she walked up to me and asked me for the notes she had missed the day before, and I handed them to her.
She said "thanks" and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I wanted to tell her.
I wanted her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her, but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

11th Grade

The phone rang. It was her on the other end.
She was in tears, mumbling on and on about how her love had broke her heart.
She asked me to come over because she didn't want to be alone,
so I did.
As I sat next to her on the sofa, I stared at her soft eyes,
wishing she was mine.
After 2 hours, a Drew Barrymore movie, and three bags of chips, she decided to
go to sleep.
She looked at me, said "thanks,"
and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her, but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

12th Grade

The day before prom she walked to my locker.
"My date is sick," she said. He's not going to go.
Well, I didn't have a date and in 7th grade we made a promise that if neither of us had dates we would go together just as "best friends."
So we did.

Prom Night

After everything was over I was standing at her front door-step.
I stared at her.
She smiled at me and stared at me with her crystal eyes.
I want her to be mine,
but she doesn't think of me like that,
and I know it.
Then she said, "I had the best time, thanks!"
and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her,
but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

Graduation Day

A day passed.
A week passed.
A month passed.
Before I could blink, it was graduation day.
I watched as her perfect body floated like an angel up on stage to get her diploma.
I wanted her to be mine,
but she didn't notice me like that,
and I knew it.
Before everyone went home,
she came to me in her smock and hat, and she cried as I hugged her.
Then, she lifted her head from my shoulder and said,
"You're my best friend, thanks!"
and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her,
but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why?

A Few Years Later

Now, I sit in the pews of the church.
She is getting married, now.
I watched her say, "I Do" and drive off to her new life,
married to another man.
I wanted her to be mine,
but she didn't see me like that,
and I knew it.
But before she drove away,
she came to me and said,
"You came!" She said, "Thanks!"
and kissed me on the cheek.
I want to tell her.
I want her to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love her,
but I'm just too shy.
And I don't know why...

Funeral

Years passed,
and I looked down at the coffin of the girl who used to be my best friend.
At the service they read a diary entry she had wrote in her high school
years.
This is what it read:
"I stare at him wishing he were mine.
But he doesn't notice me like that,
and I know it.
I want to tell him.
I want him to know that I don't want to be just friends.
I love him, but I'm just too shy,
and I don't know why.
I wish he would tell me he loved me!"

'...I wish I did too!' I thought to myself,
and I cried

By Rudboy Adidi (via WORDS OT SWORDS)

"...and I cried" So what made "YOU" cry?

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Of Tall Buildings and Aeroplanes

Long time no write...well not quite a true statement! I've been writing but everything is pretty much in draft form at the moment, my thought stream is like watching a video stream via YouTube with a GPRS handset on an MTN line at the moment, or sex without climax...hiatus (or coitus) interruptus. Luckily today my brain to blog download was not a victim of network errors (i.e psychosis) and system upgrades (i.e therapy and lil purple pills) we have the new P IX processor running on the motherboard a la Mode9 so we should be good for the rest of the day.

Anyways that aside, here's a piece of trivia about me totally unknown to most mere mortals, I have an acute fear of heights aka ACROPHOBIA ([ak-ruh-foh-bee-uh] noun a pathological fear of heights (alright so I'm showing off...big deal...it's my condition so I can show off it I wanna :P)). And this I tell you either cos we're all friends here or you're a stalker trailing me through my blog (whichever it is you actually take time the to encourage my psychosis by reading my demented musings aka my blog...so I guess we're cool). Yes...I can hear your expressions of shock and disbelief (:-o)(although some people are engaging in a bout of demonic and highly sarcastic laughter, right about now...yes this I also know because...I'm psychic (and I'd be doing the same too) :-))...Ms. "Leap tall buildings in a single bound" Dang is afraid of something.

As a child I learned the wisdom of confronting your fears and tried to confront my fear of heights with mixed results. My fear doesn't impact on my day-to-day life simply because I have no business in tall buildings. However on the few occasions I've had to encounter my phobia I stay well away from windows. I am most definitely not gonna be one of those millionaires (in $, Pounds (sterling) and Deutschemark) that'll be living in a penthouse suite I can assure you of that. Last time I found myself in a hotel room with a view (6th floor no less) I spent most of my time in bed (and no it isn't what you're thinking), any time I stood up I had a case of vertigo. Glass elevators on the side of shopping malls are defo out! Me? Tiny box? Up in the air? LOL...yeah right *sniggering sarcastically*...that is so gonna happen!

Here I share my first attempt to conquer my acrophobia.

• The location: the Giant Slide at the amusement park (can't remember where, but I know it wasn't too far from Manchester).
• Mission: to jump and feel no far.
• Status: Mission accomplished NOT.

Sure I climbed up the stairs to the top of this 20 + metre wonder monstrosity totally (depends on your personal point of view to suicide attempts) on reaching the zenith I would've climbed back down the stairs too if i could but alas they were designed for upward traffic only (sneaky bastards) reminding me of that song by Yazz..."The Only Way is UP!" (by the way does anyone know whatever happened to her?).
OK where was I before Yazz...I remember...I'm at the top (having made the fatal error of looking over the edge and pausing to ponder the zen wisdom of my actions) and I'm thinking to myself as I start to hyperventilate, dizziness taking over and total organ failure eminent..."this is SO...OOOO not gonna happen!" So there I am...stuck, literally rooted to the spot and saying the prayers my Sunday school teacher taught me the prior week and seeing no salvation in sight. Tears stream down silently down my cute (and if I say so myself...heroic) lil' face (Yes I was a cute little girl before I acquired all this hawtness...Thank you very much) and I'm thisclose to wetting myself (before you start the hmmm-ing and ha-ing remember I was about seven or eight years old then so I had the right to poor bladder function...cos I know some of y'all still bed-wet till now *KMT*) I've been up here for close to an hour and hunger is setting in.

What to do? Yes that is the question! So Shakespearean at such a young age...I was a baby Keats so it ain't my fault ;-). Anyway...there I am in a quandary of mammoth proportions, there is only one way out and I'd rather face the bullies at school 24/7 than jump. To the rescue...a bloody sadist!

Yes...I am saved by a wicked yobbo who just pushes me off the damn thing in their mad hurry to commit suicide. My throat tightens, my heart nearly jumps outta my mouth, I taste metal in my mouth care acid reflux, and I scream for dear life for all of the 10 seconds it takes for me to touch terra firma. Then as i stand on solid ground I have a shocking revelation...It was FUN!!! I run back up as fast as my little legs can carry me (which was remarkable fast thanks to all the years of running from bullies during break-time) and repeat the fear cycle again. This I did five more times. From thereon in it became a part of me to always try what scares me...from roller coasters, Log rides to Pirate ships (Alton Towers had my heart), I never lost my fear, but discovered that I kinda like to torture myself! That's the kicker with me and fear...I fear it but I relish the rush that comes from confronting it and dominating it...till the next time around. Masochism at its height! (pun intended)

Now the oddity about this thing with me and my fear of heights is that I...like totally...LOVVVVVVVVVVVEEE to fly! Boeings are nice and all, but I'm talking choppers and propeller planes. I like the feeling of being so high up and seeing the human ants and tonka trucks and cars below. I like seeing  (and reaching out to touch, and for this reason alone choppers are cool) not just the clouds but the infinite wonder of God's creation in a similar way to how I believe He views it from the heavens.

There is a cleansing I feel that I can't put into words that the view from above gives. I even like the turbulence. Smaller crafts (boats too) remind you of the nothingness that is Man. Any second the elements could get the best of you and you have but a few seconds to make peace with God and hope you repented quickly enough before you die a highly elitist death and discover if there truly is a life after death. Macabre I know, but if you didn't know by now that I'm scary, twisted and damaged here's some advice...gratis...STOP READING MY BLOG!!

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Me? Getting Married?...Hell No!

I've noticed that more and more young women seems to be ruling out marriage as an option. I mean totally. Not "I might not" but complete and utter, unequivocably 'never in a month of Sundays' "I will not!"...and the kicker? They're all straight (well almost). I start to ask myself what's gone wrong. Who or what is to blame for the prevailing reluctance to ride all the way to the last bus stop of relationships? Could it simply be a matter of age? There is something known as the audacity of youth, the prevalent belief of the young of age in their invincibility and seemingly demi god-like infallibility, their total faith in no-one else but self. Age and time usually cures one of that folly and when the biological clock and pressure from friends, family and society in general a mad dash ensues to find the ideal (and not so ideal) husband before the last viable egg shrivels up and the words Hot flash, night sweats, oesteoporosis, HRT and vaginal atrophy form the mainstay of your lexicon.
Is it the dearth of suitable companions? Or is it the sour taste of bitter pills swallowed that still linger? Is it the placing the weight of lofty and insurmountable expections on the shoulders of mortal men (expectations of such proportions as to render even Atlas and Hercules combined powerless and doomed to failure) the cause? Do these young women have not so SMART projections and expectations of their imagined spouse. Do they seek fantasy where commonsense should prevail?
Perhaps it is simply lack of faith in the institution of marriage! This seems like a possible answer. Considering that global statistics show that you have more odds of being a divorcee than remaining married, if you don't have the nerves of steel that favor a game of craps or roulette to which skill is not a major consideration but pure sheer dumb luck (or plain old loaded dice), you might be inclined to avoid a foray into the blood drenched battlefield called marriage a.k.a community property. Again it might not be the fear of divorce or failure but the fear of marriage itself. Our parents are to blame in part here. Our parents' or guardians' marriage is the only one we have front row seats for (asides our own...if ever) and more or less makes or breaks our conceptualization of the word marriage. We are our parents' children and they our primary handbook and road map on matters of the ways of the world. Even as we age and mature and break the bounds of parental influence, our actions and decisions are based consciously and unconsciously, directly and indirectly on our level of disdain for our parentage. We either act to be...or be nothing like our parents. That said the quality of the marriages you are privy to information about taint or color your notions on the prospect. Again our culture and its unspoken endorsement of male infidelity does not prevail upon women to be bound so tightly to men, seeing as he has a virtual carte blanche to be of mischievous intent.
But again really what is the need for marriage? Isn't marriage really the deciding of two people to be emotionally connected and showin the world the strength of their conviction in each other? So why the ceremony? Isn't cohabiting much the same thing? Two people deciding to couple their lives and their assets without fanfare? At least abroad I know that cohabiting partners have certain legal protections similar to those enjoyed by legally married partners, and common law espousal is recognized. Is it wrong to seek commitment but not the attendent jewelry? Or is it a case of eating one's cake and still trying to have it?
Or are the only cards in the deck really just marriage or eternal bachelor(ette)?
Please take note that these are mere musings on my part, the musings of a much demented and jaded mind no doubt, that still hasn't made up it's mind on acquiring a Mrs. status, but I'd like to know your take on this muse.

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TMI

We currently live in what is commonly referred to as the Information Age. Constantly we're bombarded by information...from radio, print media, tv, the internet...you name it. We've got information up to our ears.
Daily we're asked information about ourselves and disclose intimate details on questionnaires and such. However my current question is...is there such as thing as Too Much Information (aka TMI)? Is there a line between just the right amount and too much?
I went to the bank last month to open an account and was asked to fill a form. Some of the information was routine, where do you live, where do you work etc, but some of the questions were to put it mildly bloody invasive. How does my martial status (or lack thereof) or religious affiliation determine my ability to run a savings account? Savings! Not even a current account which has a facility for overdraft. Even for a current account, legally, my (imaginary) spouse isn't liable for any debts I as wifey incur (sadly if he runs up a big old debt and skips town I get stuck with all the responsibility). Enough of me and my banking wahala, but seriously when do requests for information become invasion of privacy?
In relationships the oft stated mantra is full disclosure, but when is full disclosure too much? Is it proper to list off the number of men you've slept with since you lost your virginity? How many is too many? 5? 10? 30? Do you need to mention booty calls and one nighters in the list? Should you give him clues to the real number of abortions you've done if the need for that discussion arises? If you run across an old fling and find out he knows your significant other, should you spill the beans or shut the hell up and hope they're not too close?
Is telling him you once dated his Dad (before you all got serious) a good idea? Especially when Daddy's not spilling. Or how about telling him you had sex with his best friend? To do or not to do?
I know honesty is essential to any relationship and I also know the Good Book says "the truth shall set you free"; "My people perish for lack of knowledge" "nothing is hidden under the sun" and all other such goodness, but shouldn't some things stay buried, and isn't ignorance supposed to be bliss? Are there things best left unsaid?
Please feel free to contradict me or add your two cents.

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The One That Got Away!

I believe everyone has that one person in their life who they think of with longing and regret. Regret over wasted time, things left unsaid, things better left unsaid. The one person who got away. The one person who has you saying "coulda, shoulda, woulda" and asking that eternal question "what if?" I have (or should I say had) one person like that in my life. The love of my life. My best friend, the one who got away.
I got a call today, a call I wish had never come, but it did. I was informed that my best friend died two days ago. I'm in a state of limbo and still hoping someone will call and say it was just a mistake. But I know that won't happen, his sister's tears made that clear. I'm writing now because I'd rather write than cry. If I don't do something I'll only weep, and I'm not ready to cry yet. The irony of the whole thing is I'd been ill too and never knew he was ill. My illness started the day his did, same thing sef. Malaria and typhoid. I got better, he didn't. What's even funnier is two days ago I woke up feeling unlike my usual self. I was lethargic and really had no zeal to do anything. I remember telling a friend that I was just feeling generally tired of life and fed up. As it was, that was the day he died, and now I wonder if that was the reason (even though I'm not one to romantize such things).
We had a very strange relationship. Very, very strange. We were friends for nearly 8 years, for 5 of those years we were more than friends. Most people (self included) actually thought we'd get married (his kid sisters still daydream). Things happened, that now when I think about it really made no sense, and even after he married someone else we still kept in touch. Even though he hurt me greatly he was still my best friend, and we could never really leave each other. Don't get me wrong. He was married, thus out of bounds, but on an emotional level we were always joined. We could have an entire conversation without saying a word. He always got me, even when I didn't get me. He was the one I could always count on, as strange as that sounds.
He was that one! Maybe the One. He was the one who'd hold my hair while I'd be puking in the bathroom. He was the one who slept by my hospital bed. He was the one I'd stay awake with all night just talking, and the one who I could just sit with for hours and not feel like I had to say a word.
He was the one I always loved, and he loved me too. I'm not talking about the "tear off your clothes" mad passionate kinda love (though there was a time we had that too), I'm talking of the "I love you as you are" kind. He had issues, I had issues, WE had issues and maybe we'd never have made a marriage between us work, but that aside if I killed someone he'd be the one I'd call and he'd help me bury the body, no questions asked and vice versa. He was my person!
Now he's gone for good. So adieu to the one that got away! Adieu to my best friend.

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From Girl friend to Girlfriend

I'm the perfect girl friend! Seriously, I am! Guys just LOVE me. I'm funny, I'm fun, I'm kinda geeky, I talk football, know what a 4-4-3 formation is and am totally fanatical about my team (for them as don't know...Manchester United is the best team ever to grace the planet), I can drink with the best of 'em (and have put many a man under the table), I'm not prone to girly girl antics (i.e I don't flicker my eyelashes and act dumb or burst into tears when I don't get my way (I have a mean left hook for that :-))). I know the difference between SOAP and soap, and also get that Ruby on Rails isn't the name of a movie, and I keep it light. All my male friends come to seek wisdom from my oracle on dating and female issues (Delphi has nought on me) and I'm more or less one of the boys. Really cool and as an added bonus I can cook (all my male friends are in love with me).
So I should have no problem when it comes to my boyfriends (as in unpaid sex workers not as in guys who are my friends). I wish! It appears I become totally clueless when I'm in relations (or is that relationships...I tend to get confused which is which). All my super cool girl-pal powers evaporate when I become "The" Girlfriend. I'm starting to believe that it is a terrible idea move from friends to "friends". You can be really down to earth with your friends, you can talk shit and not feel self conscious or bad. You can be real and not fear judgement or reproach because your friend gets you, and has no preconceived notions or expectations about you. You can enjoy sitting down at a joint and jointly scope the field, offering friendly suggestions about the correlation between gravity and butt\boob sag (depending on the particular asset of preference of the scoper), and the link between shoes and penis size.
However, the minute the line is crossed, the rules change. Jokes that used to make both of you roll hysterically on the floor with laughter now bring about what I'd like to call the "Boys are not smiling" look. The once easy comradeship that was as natural as the hair on your head (the hair you were born with, not that raggedy ass made in Taiwan weave) disappears once you've seen each other naked a few times. The evenings spent chilling with the boys knocking back the double doubles are now taboo. Your one time best source of relationship info no longer exists, let's face it you can't really ask your bf to give you advice on how to get a guy to give you a lil down town action when he's the man in question. Sure you can ask your girls but again lets face it, guys know guys better!
Many conversational topics vanish from your gist repetoire, no more talk about the fly honey you saw at the club. Or how cute that hunk's tush's looking in those (oh those) jeans. Total no-no!
Another disadvantage is that boyfriend knows you. How's that a problem? Well let's look closely. This is the guy you spent nights with giving the down low on all your underground pimpette player moves. This is the guy that was in the know that time you had a holiday fling...when you had a boyfriend no less! He knows you! Bad, bad, bad...Michael Jackson bad! Seperating your pre-dating persona from your current dating persona is at times a task. And let's face it...you know him too (dawg that he is or is that was? :-D)!
Dating is hard enough with someone you don't know, but it's like paddling a canoe upstream without a paddle when you have history. That said I still think I'd prefer dating the guy who knows I like rice and okro, that I think Danger Mouse is way cooler than Mighty Mouse, that knows I'm a mean bitch till I do my first cup of java and slept by my hospital bed when I went in for surgery just so I wouldn't wake up alone.

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Not Really Poetry

Whispered words, stolen glances, forbidden thoughts, reason nought but endless white noise.
Thoughts left not spoken, tension built, passions aroused, chance encounters designed by choice.
Attraction heightened,
belt buckle, zip, hook, pantyhose down, lips
entwined, parted thighs, all reason confined, wrongdoing denied.
Downcast eyes, regretful sighs.
Dejection, rejection, leading to eventual despise.
(Originally posted: 13 May 09)

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The Other Woman

"Imma tear her eyes out...oh that man grabbing bitch", "Imma beat her down and give her an ass whopping she won't forget no time soon"
I'm sure a lot of us women have made those statements (or something close at least...even if it's just in our heads) about the interloper, the intruder who's had the effront to step to our man and pee on our patch of lawn without as much as a by your leave. We've all rained abuse, drawn rain and invoked fire and damnation on the souls of poor misguided trespassers, even if eventually we apply maturity and handle the real culprit...our men!
However this isn't about the other woman who peed on your patch, this is about when you unwittingly (or deliberately) find yourself wearing the costume of the other woman. I've had this experience a couple of times: once I dated a guy for about 4 months, even spent weekends at his house, all things nice, until one weekend I arrive and see pictures that I'd never seen before, wedding pictures!!! The guy'd been married for about a year plus and his wife was in jand to deliver and was due back on Monday. Well to say I was gobsmacked is putting it lightly. The second time I dated this guy for a couple of months but we never ever seemed to get to his house. Warning bells should've gone off immediately but I was like well by the time we close from work it's kinda late...and if he had a girl he'd tell me. Well he had not just a girl, but a fiancee and they were living together, needless to say that affair died a tragic and very sudden death. The third and I believe (and solemnly hope) last time I got to reprise the role of the other woman was in my very own relationship. I wasn't the intruder here, it was my relationship, groomed, nurtured and invested in religiously over the years, five to be exact. I'd been there when he was down and out. When he'd been out of work I'd contributed my widow's mite, even slept with him on the floor when things got so bad that he had to pack back in with his folks. I did the time. Sure we quarrelled...I mean what couple doesn't occasionally? But I really thought we were good, his family liked me, his sisters are still my peeps (even went out with one of them two weeks ago) and everybody knew us as a couple. He finally got a new job, and the pay was far out! And then he changed, someone I saw on the daily during his time off, now started givin me the "babes...I'll get back to you" speech. He started throwing tizzy fits at the slightest provocation. Looking for fights which I refused to give him. I knew something funny was going on, but I was like...chill...we've been through this before, and we worked it! The next thing I knew my coz brought over an invite for a traditional wedding, my beau and some chick he'd known all of three months! To add insult to injury the chick decided to disrespect me by calling my ass 24/7 with leave my man alone calls. I think I handled the matter quite maturely, I didn't retaliate, I didn't make any noise, I just shed the requisite tears and life went on. I don't know how to keep grudges (well...not really) and believe that all relationships serve as a school to teach you wisdom and prepare you for your eventual life partner, so after enough time and water had passed under the bridge, we became friends again, and started talking again but strictly above board. Then madam started hunting me again. Now I know I should really just cut him off but I hate people forcing my hand, and despite what went down we were friends even before we started dating. So...now once again I am the other woman...even though my hands are clean!
(Originally posted: 14 May 09)

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Bi, Straight or Gay?

Ok I'm back! Been off the note train for a bit but been sorely lacking in inspiration. Not that i'm really inspired right now, but the mind is a muscle and if not exercised it suffers atrophy, and a sick twisted mind like mine is a terrible thing to waste ;-). So to escape the realms of the congenitally brain dead I'll endeavor to write.
Since i've been gone lots has gone down. I'm officially single and got my player jersey back :-) so applications can start coming in now ahead of the earlier announced June 30 open season. I added a year to my age on Wednesday and have my foot a little deeper in the grave. I had a far out trip to Gidi, did the celeb paparazzi thing, got a guy to strip for me (only his tee mind you...I liked the shirt and he obliged).
The trip was great on the networking front but I struck out major league on the macking tip...seriously...strike 1, strike 2, strike 3 and you're out!...I have no game! ROTFL! Not even a booty squeeze! :-(.
However the trip got me starting to wonder if I'm a latent homosexual! Aha...knew that'd grab you by the nuts. I could go all Jamie Foxx and blame it on the alcohol, but doesn't alcohol just lower your inhibitions? Why am I on this train?
Well I went all Katy Perry during my trip and smooched some random chick in a nightclub, unfortunately I was too drunk to remember much about it apart from the fact that she was FINE, and I know I hit on another chick at another club, but she said I wasn't her type. I got hit on by another chick the next day and for a moment seriously considered inviting her to my telly the next day!
Now that has me worried! The first incidents could be blamed on imbibing too much of Russia's finest, but the second? Stone sober?
It could just be a manifestation of my natural curiosity about gettin with a woman. Or it might be the effects of my current sex famine and I'm just horny. LOL. It's not that I haven't thought about it before, but maybe because the opportunity has never really presented itself I've never had reason to seriously contemplated it. Now however, the opportunity presents...so do I act upon it and add it to the list of crazy things I've done in my life or take a chill pill and not start something that I might find I like a whole lot more than the regular? And let's face it...getting head'll never be an issue again. ;-).
Homosexuality is a big ass no-no in our society and most others but people seem far more tolerant of girl on girl action. And I ask why? Same sex is same sex whether male on male or female on female so why the discrimination? A lot of guys I know are hoping to sing Ray Lavender's "My Girl Got a Girlfriend" ditty in hope of a good old fashioned menage a trois but shouldn't what's sauce for the goose be sauce for the gander too? And shouldn't acceptance of one equal acceptance of the other? This is just me thinking out loud while my angel and my devil fight for my eternal soul over my bi-straight-gay musings!
Now I know majority of my male friends'll be like 'Can I watch?' if I ever decide to flip the switch and start tappin instead of gettin tapped (and the answer to that is a very empathic...Hell NO!!!).
(Originally Posted in facebook: 05 June 2009)

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Not Quite Poetry (Love Network)

Message sent

Reply delivered

Tender endearment rendered from frenzied lips
Tongues lock, arms entwined, tangled limbs, discarded linens
Hastily tasting, Madly embracing, reason erasing.

Erection, eruption devoid of protection.
Tender goodbyes, new assignments designed.
Telephone rings Telephone drops

Loving words reconsidered.

Network disconnected

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The Five-Year Plan

I sat down recently and contemplated my existence and as usual it was a depressing event. I checked my prior year and the years before and asked myself what had I done with the time that I'd been granted. For those that are wondering why I waited till now to do this, it's quite elementary Watson (to borrow from the Great Sherlock Holmes)...my "new" year commences on the day of my birth, in this case 3rd June. Anyway that piece of trivia aside, I reviewed my goals and objectives and found I'd consistently fallen short of the mark on all of them, and let out a wail of frustration.
Some of the goals I'd set for myself were very un-SMART (for the non-management degree holders this means Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic and Timed). They lack concrete description, could not be quantified, were highly unattenable and totally unrealistic and had no timeframe attached to them. And pursuit of such goals is the path to the loony bin. Other goals were totally out of my control and depended on others for their fulfilment. More loony fest material. I thus sat with a pen and pad, the requisite cup of java, mobi turned off and a "Do not disturb" sign boldly displayed on my front door, and slowly began the change process.
Change is never totally an external phenomena, it tends more to be an in-out process as opposed to an out-in one. Sure, certain external events can promote change to an extent but fundamentally change occurs when you make the decision to, and my life was definitely due for a change. My external catalyst for change was my "boyfriend" who after 7 eventful years now told me he wasn't likely to get hitched to me (I had to ask! Times a-wasting, my hairs a-grayin). Talk about a kick in the ass! This got me thinking (at last...do I hear you chanting)! What was I waiting for? I have no major commitments, I'm still young, still have all my hair and most of my teeth and I'm still a hottie (yeah, yeah, I know, I know...modesty becomes me)...so why was I putting brakes on my future? Because I was waiting on a proposal that I now know isn't likely to materialize? Good question. I finally realized I was holding on with tenacity so I'd have an excuse if I failed to fulfil my potential.
I drew up a list (surprisingly it was very short) of what was "wrong" with my life, what I needed to do to change the wrong (still working on that one), what I wanted to achieve with my life (even shorter) and then how I intended to get there as well as put a timeframe on each activity.
The first thing I decided that I would do more of was take risks. As the saying goes "nothing ventured, nothing gained" and if I don't take chances I only have myself to blame when I swallow sour grapes. The first risk I took was to submit some of my writing to a magazine. My facebook followers and friends had always told me that I should take the writing gig seriously but I always brushed it aside as friends being friends and blowing smoke up my derriere. I guess fear of flying also played a role in my reluctance, the fear of falling flat on my face and receiving rejection slips. This time I said "f**k it, what's the worst that can happen?" and took a shot by following up on requests for freelance writers for an internationally based magazine. I just submitted my first articles and my by-line could be coming to a vendor near you pretty soon (fingers crossed they publish the drivel I sent).
Number two on my list was to see exactly where this Entertainment gig would take me. I'm now in the process of signing on two new acts (actually three if I count my actress) to my artist management outfit (and registering the same) and am set to audition as the anchor of a new TV show billed to take off next quarter.
I've still not finished drafting my five-year plan, but I think I'm making inroads on breaking the past five years jinx!

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The Journey

It's been a while since i've graced this segment. I apologize for my neglect (and in advance for my subsequent future desertion for alas many more shall come). My muse has redirected my thoughts to other areas, and though I still love to write, it's become a chore, a thankful (not thankless) one, thank the gods, but a chore nonetheless.
What wisdom (or madness dependent on your point of view; always respected by me, but please do extend me the same) to impart upon your minds today, I wonder? A little prose? A little poetry? Whatever it shall metamorph into, it will be a part of me. With every line, with every thought, with every vision expressed, I give to you (lovingly) a piece of my heart, my mind, my essence. My naked self, my true being, my totality and my (mildly skewered and thoroughly screwed) reality.

The Journey
I sat and wondered,
And I solemnly pondered,
On life's meaning and what is truly love, on joy and pain,
On wishful thoughts and hapless hopes, perceived loss and factual gain.
On starts and ends, on laughter and tears.
I look around and tallied my cares, my years and my fears.
I checked my past, my present and my future plains,
I saw the shallow, unmarked graves of dreams I'd unwittingly slain.
I heard the hue and cry, the reasons given why,
Why i should close my eyes to opportunity and growth, to voices within and without,
on why i should stay in this stagnant place.
Why i should be content with present state, and not work toward my stated grace.
I blocked my ears, steeled my arms, armed with just a will to succeed and steadfast heart, clad my feet,
Onward i tread, climbing steady, never lookin as Lot's wife did, upon the ruins of my past, steady climbin away from their predicted defeat.
Lonesome journey, devoid of friend or foe, this is a journey that is but mine alone.
Though the journey may tarry, my legs may become wary, my future lays brightly on the horizon, beckoning, the siren call to my ears.
Bruised, battered and barely whole, i will reach my intended and long sought for goal,
Then like the phoenix of lore, I shall rise, as from the ashes, I shall arise.
Once and for all, master of my art, not a tear shall shed from these eyes.

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My Talk with God

Recently I had a talk with God. It'd been awhile, so long that I'm even ashamed to put a date on it. Anyway...as usual it was a bit of a one-sided conversation with me doing all the talking and getting nothing in way of a reply...not even one of those moments of clarity, or a dream to say 'OK! I hear you already!!!'. Nada! Niente!!!

Notwithstanding I continued on my ethereal 20 Questions and prayed that answers would come somehow in the physical. I said a prayer for my family, even managed a few for my nation and state of birth. I didn't pray for world peace because I'm not so sure of my state of Grace to be so eager for God to come down and Armageddon to begin. Yeah, yeah...selfish I agree, but at least I'm honest about it! I put my friends in the mix, said a prayer for my enemies (again I'm being honest...I have enemies and don't front about it, but I did ask God to give me a renewed heart where they're concerned).

30 hours later I rose from my sanctuary none the wiser, with no enlightenment of any sort but a lightening of my soul all the same from bending God's ear and purging myself of all the thoughts I can't say in public for fear of being locked up in the psycho ward. However I was left with a simple realization. God no longer speaks from Sinai to instruct, He no longer sends manna from the heavens. No, but he gives you a vision in your heart of what is (and could be) in your grasp and has given you all you need to fulfil it.

Not quite the word I wanted, not exactly what I wanted to hear! He left the responsibility for my success or failure squarely with me. So if in life's journey I fail or fall, I can not blame anyone but myself seeing as I refused to do the work (as Paul said faith without work is dead) and closed my eyes to the tools He has given me to fulfil my task and destiny. However, even if I fail and fall a thousand times, the true sin would be to never get up and try again. Or to give up just when the dawn is about to break.

Many of us fall to achieve our true potential, not because of the people in the village or enemies at the gates, but because we either fail to truly harness our gifts or bug out just cause the going gets hard. We instead take the easy route of conformity to Man's rules, eagerly accepting what people say is reality, what is normal, what is achievable. The greats whose words we quote on the daily were in their day nonconformists. They realized what seed was in their hands and against society's expectations and suggestion strove to achieve the impossible and the improbable.

Thomas Edison, Theodore Roosevelt, Johannes Sebastien Bach, Abraham Lincoln, Nelson Mandela to name just a few. Adversity shapes a man and makes him strong. If it came to us easy we'd never truly appreciate our blessings. The only thing that seperates us from those that have succeeded is time and dedication. One year, 5 years, 10 years seems a long time, but on God's calendar it's just a blink of the eyes, and as they say...patience is a virtue!

We all have been given talent, irrespective of our beginnings, irrespective of who our daddies are, irrespective of our gender, disabilities, creed or state of origin. And each talent left to lay fallow, left unharvested and left to rot is an abominable sin. Discover what it is God gave you, groom it, grow it and channel it positively and as He said by the fruits of your labours you shall be made wealthy.

Originally Posted: 13 May 09

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Taken by Force

Yes I know...I'm quite topical. I 'talk' about whatever enters my thoughts at a given time, and the discussions aren't always de riguer or socially polite or acceptable topics, and honestly come to think of it...I'm not so socially appropriate either. I talk about sex a little too much and a little too graphically for the liking of some (and trust me I really, REALLY...do try tone it down). However if all was nice and proper it really wouldn't be me, n'est pas?

Anyway the topic today is one that people rarely talk about and constantly shy away from. Rape! It's a topic that brings with it a lot of stigma and blame directed at the wrong person...the victim.
A victim of rape never really recovers from the attack...her scars may heal, and all physical reminders may disappear, but the emotional scars remain and her precious ability to trust without reservation is crushed. The physical assault is just the crux of the matter, the continued emotional assault is the kicker. Now if you are brave enough to report the rape you are once more raped by those that should aid you. The police (especially in Nigeria) take the line of reasoning that you most probably asked for it and compound your woes by asking you to describe how exactly your attacker did the thing and whether you enjoyed it. Even if you never report the case you become a laughing stock as your rapist gleefully spreads the tale of how he gave it to you and how you begged for more, leaving you tagged for life as easy and down for whatever and the prey for other like minded 'men'. Even confiding your disgrace to your nearest and dearest might not give you the needed solace as they might either blame you for your woes or advice you to forget the ugly incident as if you did something to be ashamed of...and further adding to your victimization.
The sad fact is women aren't safe even from those they know. Statistics show that most cases of rape are perpetuated by those close to the victims...the so-called acquaintance rape accounting for near 60 percent of reported cases. Those that you trust and let your guard down with become the enemy within. Not just friends and colleagues, but uncles, caregivers and fathers. So sad that in no place is a woman truly safe.
However rape is far more than physical violation. Even emotional and verbal assault are rape. Having worked in an all male environment I have been a victim of inappropriate conduct and touches, lewd and decidedly sexual talk and jokes. Put in a position that I feel violated mentally and emotionally but with little or no defence. The word for this is sexual harassment and in no way less than rape.
Wht leads a man to rape? What leads a man to forcibly take what is not given freely...especially when you all know that on a pound for pound, blow for blow basis she's no match for you (weaker vessel and all that). What kind of man derives satisfaction from hearing her screams, fighting, tears and pleading? It really beats me! And that crazy talk about 'I thought she really meant Yes and really wanted it' should be confined to the trash can, where it rightly belongs. Unless she's tearing off your clothes and nearly raping you...don't even go there. Take N. O. to be just that...NO!!!. Even if she's all mellow and drunk out of her wits, don't take advantage of what looks like a golden opportunity. She might not be so pleased with you when she comes to. In my view sex should be consensual...and should be between two consenting adults (emphasis on adult...a twelve year old, no matter how stacked, is not an adult and statutory rape is real believe it, but that a lecture for another day.)
Women are constantly victimized and those brave enough to shout out are further raped by the society that should protect them. In rape trials the victim is questioned about their sexual past, about their relationship with their attacker and their life is put under a microscope and their integrity put on trial. And the man in question only needs to maintain an argument of He said, She said.
Don't get me wrong...some women do play for the gallery and shout rape at the slightest provocation, sometimes as a sympathy ploy, or as a revenge tactic to get even with a man that they feel treated them badly. Even at that, we should not lose track of the fact that real victims exist, and it is our duty as a society to defend to rights of the innocent (and not so innocent).

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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The Reaper

The road long, The journey short
The destination of no consequence of any sort
The fate...the same awaits the coward, the strong, the brave
The eternal rest, the never sated always open grave
Be king, be pauper, be star, be locked in a constant pose to pray
Be saint, be sinner, be rich, be you what you may
When the time arrives, to the hungry earth we will all allegiance pledge
The only democracy where your vote must be counted no party playin for an edge
Where the constitution is but a one liner "You live then you die, so kiss your life goodbye."
No poetry, no prose, no tears, no lie
Money won't save you death don't care to know your name
The Grim Reaper doesn't care if you ruled your game
So wtf you are a celebrity? Or simply one called nondescript
Meet the director, the guy who cut you outta the script!
The race is to none and victory belongs to only one...The Reaper!
The one who makes grown men cry when he comes calling, the one who turns mother to weeper.
Acquire like a magpie, fill your nest with bling, cars, rings,
Buy your mansions, jets and trivial things.
All left behind to slackers to loot, squander and lose the things that became your life blood and steady goal
The things that twisted, eroded and finally enfolded your now condemned soul!
Or maybe we'll dig your grave wide and deep to put you and your mountain of things!

DISCLAIMER: All thoughts and opinions expressed here are all mine (crazy as they might seem). All works here are my original work (unless otherwise stated)

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Robert Lindsey

Ok...I'm relatively easy going and believe in freedom of expression, but where I draw the line is when people expose their colossal ignorance, bigotry and unabated racism and talk utter bullshit from a 'dem say' point of view without having valid first hand knowledge. Today I read one of the most asinine and ignorant pieces I've read in a long while, and the author of this drivel is 'allegedly' a Masters holder (from which University I wonder) and thus should know the importance of adequate unbias research. I also took time to read other blog posts by this same anti-semitic, african hating **** (think colorfully...like a drunk sailor in a bar and fill in the blanks) and have concluded that the man has major MAJOR issues (padded room and straight jacket written in his horoscope...if he doesn't do a 'Columbine' and slaughter a bus load of immigrants first that is!).
For those that wish to read the offensive article that got me spewing expletives before my meditation, the link is Robert "highly racist, anti-semitic bigot" Lindsey.
Now I won't dispute some of the points he raised (even though his statistics were heavily skewered and exceedingly bias) but his manner and tone was beneath civilized, his statements were derogatory and smacked of personal angst. If he had approached the issues from an unbiased view point Nigerians and others would have responded in a more supportive manner, but his aggression started from the title itself and continued throughout his slightly psychotic ravings.
Below is the comment I wrote in response to his inane rantings recorded here in case he decides not to publish it.

Dear Mr. Lindsey,
I was initially ticked off (putting it very very mildly) when I read your blog post, but after taking time to engage in deep breathing techniques my clarity returned and I found myself overcome with great pity for you! What else can I have for someone who wears his prejudices and bigotry so proudly on his chest as if it were a bronze star and exhibits his gross stupidity, myopia, racism and illiteracy (education consists of more than acquiring degrees).
I've been fortunate to have travelled to a few of the places you so caustically disparaged (most recent being Manilla, as well as having the (mis)fortune of a 1st World (says you!) upbringing) and although some issues do exist it is nowhere near as bad as you erroneously claim.
With regard the Nigerian scam artistry issue get your facts right. Nigeria is yet to produce an scammer with as much skill as say umm...America's own Madoff! Neither have we attempted to sell off the London Bridge or the White House as some of your fellow citizens have. And usually people that get scammed are either greedy, naive or just plain dumb. And pleeeeease who is so so lame as to have to resort to internet dating...don't have women in your own country?
We don't have cases of serial killers, or people waking up in the mornin hating self and humanity and going on senseless killing sprees for the heck of it like you crazed and deranged whiteys.
You should speak from experience not hearsay for your rantings to be taken moderately seriously or maybe this is like Candid Camera and we'll find out that you're just jossin with us and this is just a big joke and you really aren't this retarded.

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