ninety.two

# what happened to the wonderful thing we had? /
it seems like you're missing in action #
- jilly from philly

oy vey!

feels like i haven't blogged in ages. the reason for my absence is wholly justifiable though: i'm putting the finishing touches to my book.

:)

i'll be back after these messages...

ninety.one

this post is dedicated to those that are unable to take a hint.

i was at home this afternoon when a friend of my mother's came by to surprise her. my mum was out, so unfortunately the joy ended up being all mine. i'm pretty sure my first words to her were "himymumisn'there", but she strong-armed her way into the crib anyway, saying she didn't have my mum's mobile number [that's not an accident, lady!].

my mum has been trying to shake this woman for yeeeeeeears. she sat in my kitchen today and told me that she's been trying to get in touch with my mother, unsuccessfully, for months [hint hint!]. then she brought up those couple times she's seen me in the street but i didn't have my mother's number in my phone [who doesn't have their mother's number? hint hint!]. and she decided to come over unannounced because she thought that would be her best shot at catching my mother [um..take your own hint hints!].

the thing is that she isn't a horrible person. she's a tad 'touched', but she has a good heart. the problem is that she wants more from my mum than she's able and willing to give. i had to call my mother after the lady left my house to warn her about any calls from a number she doesn't recognise; and please believe me when i tell you that if she got such a call today: that ish went to voicemail. but how long are they gonna play cat and mouse for?

this whole fiasco today got me thinking about persistent people in general. we all know someone that we don't really want to talk to anymore, but we don't know how to tell them. they haven't done anything to us, they're not bad people, we don't hate them. we just...well...we're just...well...not feeling them. so we click the x on their IM conversations [and block them in our more heartless moments. then we unblock them cos we feel bad. we're so weak!]. and we don't answer their calls, or respond to their e-mails/texts. and we cross our fingers, toes and ribs and just HOPE that they'll get the message. that they'll slink away quietly, reciting that reason, season, lifetime poem to themselves, and both of us will be able to move on with our karma in tact.

except some people just will not give up. your silence means nothing to them. how do you make silence speak loudly to a deaf person? well, you can't. but then, how productive is it to shout at a deaf person? um...it isn't. so what do you do?

maybe i'm the problem. perhaps i'm too sensitive. maybe i am a quitter. maybe i've been living my life wrong all these years. perhaps three unreturned e-mails do not equal a request for space. perhaps the right thing to do is to hound someone. perhaps that's how you show them you care. what's the worst that can happen? they either break, and end up responding, or they file a skraining order on your ass. either way you've been acknowledged right?

cos this lady today, boy...she's like a dog with a bone. matter fact: she on that herpes, son!

"don't ever: everevereverevereverever come by here, ok?"

classic.

ninety.

i can't stop singing this today.

#come on, come on, come on: love's the greatest thing#

word up.

eighty.nine

when i was a teenager i was told that i have a baby face. i was also told that one day i'd appreciate looking younger than i actually am.

i went to buy a lotto ticket a couple of days ago [funny how i'm more optimistic about the odds when i'm broke]. i'm a pretty good lip-reader so if i'm in a shop and carrying out a simple transaction i often leave my headphones in my ears and my music playing. as i handed my lotto tickets to the guy behind the counter he seemed to be asking me how i was. so i told him i was fine, and i even threw in the obligatory 'you?' but he asked me again, and so i took out my left earbud and asked him to repeat himself.

man: how old are you?
me: how old am i? i'm 27!
man: oh. sorry. i wasn't sure if you were old enough to play lotto.
me: how old do you have to be to play?
man: 16.
me: so i look 15?
man: you could pass.

so um...when does this become flattering? i mean, it's already hilarious, but when will it feel like a compliment? when will i respond to erroneous guesses at my age with a fluttering of my eyelashes and a coy 'oh, stop!'?

the older i get, the more i realise that i actually love being the age i am. i always feel like i've earned the next year i step into. the first few weeks might feel a little weird, and as time goes by it can sometimes take me that extra second to remember my age, but when i do remember it i always feel snug and comfy and warm. it always feels right. because of this, i have a sense that i'm gonna feel 60 at 60, and love 70 at 70. i get that it's supposed to be a positive thing that people think i look younger than i am, but i actually prefer it when someone gets it right. that's when the eyelashes flutter. that's when i get coy.

there's a lot of life, love, loss and joy in this 27 year old face. i like it to be seen.

eighty.eight

chester gregory - breakbeat karaoke

you must go to chester gregory's website right now and download this free mixtape.

you must.

you must.

you must.

eighty.seven

ladies, i need your help!

how do you sneeze without slobbering on yourself?

i don't think i've always had this problem. i seem to remember a time when my sneezes were cute and feminine. little achoos that would garner 'aaaaws' from those around.

but now?

now i sneeze into my hands and pause, hoping that people don't see, knowing that i'm gonna have to wipe my palms on something [sometimes my clothes. i know! it's nasty].

how do i get back to the dainty ones? the ones where people ask if i sneezed at all? the ones i can do in public? the ones i can do on a date?

sure i could do one of those 'hold it in' sneezes, but i heard they're bad for you. i heard they can burst your eardrums. i heard that a sneeze contains waste matter and you must allow your body to dispel the toxins.

sure i could sneeze into a tissue, but you don't always have time! sometimes a sneeze jumps you from behind; it hijacks your nose and liberates your nostrils before you even know what hit you.

what will i do if i'm sitting across the table from a lovely man that wants to get to know me better? what will i do if i sneeze into my hands and am left with moisture to mop? how do i attend to my oral casualty in such a way that won't lead him to ask for the bill?

help me!

my unborn children need you!

eighty.six

i called my dad to wish him a happy father's day and we ended up having an argument.

i'm beginning to think he likes them.

if so, i got him the perfect gift.

*crosses fingers*

eighty.five

the final curve
by langston hughes

when you turn the corner
and you run into yourself
then you know that you have turned
all the corners that are left

eighty.four

best sesame street songs EVER.

rah!

eighty.three

there's something so delightful about butterflies. not the insects [although they are lovely too], but the ones that flutter in your tummy when your mind runs on that special someone. it's a split-second of emotional freefall. a feeling similar to that moment when you hit the ground floor in a lift [that's an elevator, for you yankee doodle dandies].

although i am a strong believer in love, i don't believe in being "in love". well, it's not that i don't believe in it, it's that i don't understand the need for the distinction. one reason for my stance is that i feel the separation of love vs. in love sets up a shitty dynamic whereby we begin to file all the beautiful things about a relationship under being in love, and that in turn gives us license to file a whole bunch of crap under love. so him giving you butterflies? that's cos you're in love with him. the reason you stay after he's cheated on you? that's cos you love him. womp womp. [i will definitely blog about this love vs. in love problem more at a later date, cos i have a lot to say on the matter, but that's not what this blog is about.]

so back to the butterflies: i don't believe they should be reserved for dating, or for the early stages of a relationship. i want to feel them after 50 years of marriage when all my teeth have fallen out and i can tie my breasts in a knot. i want to lay eyes on my wrinkly husband, smell his musty pee-peppered scent, and feel those butterflies [probably more like moths at this stage] like i did when we were on our first date. yes, i believe that butterflies are forever, just like diamonds and herpes.

and of all the signs that confirm that i like someone, none is harder for me to ignore than butterflies. even when i don't want a relationship, even when it doesn't make sense, even when it's not the right time, even when i'm not trying to see him that way, even when i have no plans to follow through...as soon as i feel those wings fluttering in my gut, i know it's a wrap. and just like i wonder about the lift falling through the shaft when it hits the ground floor, i ponder if i too am about to fall.

not fall in love, you understand, but into it.

eighty.two

song lyrics : aural epiphanies pt.2

i like washing dishes. i think it's one of the most pleasant of all household chores. this doesn't mean i wash every plate, cup and spoon immediately after use though. oh no. in fact to do so would be counterproductive to the cause. so please don't be alarmed if you happen to wander into my kitchen and find dishes piled so high that they resemble some kind of post modern art interpretation of mount kilimanjaro.

why do i enjoy washing dishes? because it's guilt-free brain time. i use the moments spent making dirty things clean to think about the ways i need to imitate this process in other areas of my life, or i meditate, or i write a mental grocery list, or i just daydream. lovely. and sometimes i don't want to think and so i hit play on my itunes and enjoy my music library.

yesterday was an itunes day, an etta james day. she's my favourite female singer of all time, and please believe that i know every ad lib [even the moans] to almost every one of her songs. a song that i don't know so well though is all the way down, and this is mainly because the beat is do damn funky that i find myself getting into the toe-tapping, as opposed to listening to the lyrics. but yesterday it was as if the lyrics jumped out of the song and punched me in my eardrums on some you need to hear this! steez. and as soon as i begun listening, i heard these words:

#benny the albino / says don't be a wino / try these here flakes / they've got what it takes / to make you a star / and change who you are /all the way down#

i'm sorry....Hwhat?

first i started trippin' on the strange narcotic theme. i know etta used to take them, but why is she singing to me about drugs? then i realised that the whole song is about drugs. oh lawd, how did i not spot this before?

but after a few seconds something else became much more pressing. who the hell is benny? is he real? he must be real. i mean, who sings about an imaginary albino? who sits in a songwriting session, looking for a rhyme with wino and proclaims "albino!"? no one! so benny must exist. benny is real, and he's an albino, and he was pushing them kellogg's and selling false hopes and fake dreams to the chirruns circa 1960.

where are you now, benny? by golly, i'd love to meet you.

eighty.one

oompa loompas

hello. i possess a burning love and affection for the vertically-challenged man. short men. little men. not oompa loompa little; but those 5'9" and under that inspire snarls and upturned noses from all of my female friends. am i the only woman that likes a pocket-sized fellow?

i'm 5'6" and i haven't dated a guy over 5'8" for seven years. a couple of years ago a friend of mine accused me of preferring short men and i quickly denied it. i wasn't lying, at the time it was just a coincidence that the last couple of men i'd dated could comfortably wear my coats. but since then i do sense a trend, and now i can confidently declare that i like them a little, well, little.

most women believe that a taller man and shorter woman look better as a couple. and, as superficial as this is, it's the only reason for choosing ballers over smallers that i accept and respect. i understand that my girls wanna be able to rock their four inch heels and still have to look up at their men. i struggle in kitten heels, so this is not a problem for me. in fact, my mate can act as the perfect cover for my inability to walk in heels without looking like some kind of injured chicken. but, aside from the aesthetics, my friends' reasoning behind a preference for a man with at least six inches on them is rooted in myth.

they say things like: "i just feel safer with a tall man" or "i need to know he can look after me if we get into trouble". ha! i'm not saying that all the short men i've dated would have fought to protect my honour, but i know that a couple of the tall ones would have most definitely left me to duke it out alone. sure, it would have taken them less strides to run to the payphone and call the ammalance to come get me, but we'd still have needed to have a serious talk on the ride to the hospital.

and my friends say things like: "i don't want to have short sons". ha! i've seen plenty of families where sons tower over their fathers. this is because boys get their height from their mother's side too. the men in my dad's family range from 6' to 6'6", so my babies might could still be long-legged. of course the odds for a tall son are improved if his daddy is tall, but know that you height nazis might still mess around and give birth to your very own gary coleman [sans ashy hands, i hope].

but be clear: i'm not on some kind of moral soapbox. i wouldn't dare mount said box because all of my reasons for liking short men are incredibly shallow. they have nothing to do with the heart of a man, and everything to do with what is good [and convenient] for me.

short men rock because:
1. when we're walking and talking i can turn to give him immediate eye contact.
2. i can snatch kisses from his lips without permission, and without having to go on my tippy toes.
3. when we hug i get to press close to his whole body. [i love those chest-to-chest hugs when my heart can feel his heart beating; AND i can throw in a neck nuzzle!]
4. if tiredness ever strikes unannounced i can always rest my head on his shoulder.

small men are accessible! and accessories! ok, not accessories, but they are accessible. tall men are just so far away. what are you talking about up there? i can barely hear you with your 5'10" head in the sky. meanwhile me and my 5'8" lover are standing in the park, his arms around my waist, mine around his neck, eyes locked, having one of our many moments.

so yes, i like them short. short and scrumptious and lovely and small. if you're 5'7"-5'9" and wouldn't mind going out with a neurotic brit with a mean costume jewellery fetish then feel free to holler at me. not if you're 5'5" though. i mean. that's just sick.

eighty.

something i still haven't mastered in my 27 years is the ability to leave things alone.

i am that woman that calls someone when i know they're not talking to me, because i wanna work it out nooooooooow.

i am that woman that decides to change the shape of her eyebrows and plucks one hair too many..and then keeps plucking to even it up, meaning i look like i'm asking a permanent question. [hmm?]

i am that woman that tastes her food, thinks it needs a little bit of salt, then adds a little bit more, and a little bit more; until my meal tastes like salt with a side of food.

and this less-than-desirable trait of mine [of which i have many, people] is why the clip below, from the movie swingers, will always make me laugh my metaphorical arse off.

that is so me!

pray for your girl, to whichever god you believe in.

seventy.nine

i'm gonna need you to hear me out on this one. just give me a chance to explain and plead my case before you write it off. agreed? ok.

i would like to talk to you about my respect for herpes.

[lol @ some of you thinking i was about to announce that i have herpes. shame on you.]

no, i do not have the herp-biscuits, and that's a good thing. i know having herpes isn't pleasant for anyone, but this post is not about the humans that are affected by the herpes simplex virus, it is about the virus itself. see, when it comes to stds, there is no greater example of courage and persistence than herpes. and i think its sheer determination and never-say-die attitude should be acknowledged.

chlamydia? she all quiet. she got you, but she ain't letting you know. she be whispering all over your genitals but she don't never show her face. in short? she's a punk.

crabs? they be crawling all over you, scratching, scratching, scratching away at your ting-tings. they can be defeated with just one medicated shampoo, but not before they've got the whole office talking about how you couldn't sit still all day. you ain't getting no play at the christmas party now. in short? they're cock blockers.

but herpes? he be like BOOM. "i'm here. you see me. what?" then you hit him with the meds. y'all tussle. you win. he's gone. but while he's leaving he shoots you a look over his shoulder and says "i'll be back, foo. please believe it." and he's right. sure as the valtrex is blue, that dude returns like a trusty boomerang, again and again and again. he's like bad boy circa 1996, he can't stop, won't stop.

can't we all learn something from him?

so here's what i suggest. let's take a word, laden with negative connotations, and make it positive. let's start using the word herpes in relation to our perseverance, to our commitment. here are some ways you can use the new herpes in a sentence:

"paula be blocking my calls, so i'ma go to her house instead. i want her back. i won't give up. i'm on that herpes, son."

"this is the third declined application i've got from a job this week; but i gotta keep going so i can feed these kids. i'm grinding like herpes, son."

"you see how the lakers were down in game four, but they came back hard in the third quarter? fisher was on that herpes, son!"

what do you think???

what's that you said? it's not possible? of course it is! it's totally possible to seamlessly redefine a word, shedding it of its negative history. i mean we did it for the n-word right?

right?

i mean, barack is president!

yes we can!

no?

fine. i'll be back with this again though. please believe it. i stay on that herpes, son.

seventy.eight

perhaps my favourite ever line from family guy:



for the record guys: it totally is.

seventy.seven

naturally 7

well...i kind of did.

it just so happens that train drivers decided to go on strike the day of the show. my friend, rah, and i set off just after 6pm needing to take only two buses to get to the venue, and to do so by 8:15pm. this journey would normally take just under an hour on the train, so two hours on the bus seemed reasonable. right? um...wrong.

we spent two hours on the first bus and travelled only four miles of our 10 mile journey. two hours. by the time we got to the bus stop to take the second bus, we were aware that the show had started. should we still make the journey or turn around and go home? we kept changing our minds, but our animal instinct took over at the sight of the second bus, and so we jumped on. we finally arrived at the venue as naturally 7 were singing their final song. of course they were so dope that everybody screamed for an encore, and so we got to experience that too. i sat there and wondered if it would have been better to miss the show altogether instead of get a glimpse of what i'd missed. i was so bummed.

after the show, we both went home, which took me another two hours. all-in-all i spent over six hours getting to, watching, and getting back from the naturally 7 show. and less than one of those hours was spent seeing them perform. if any train drivers are reading this then i want them to know that i hope they get run over by a crazed bicyclist and then trampled on by a million pedestrains wearing stilettos. ok, maybe just twenty pedestrians.

the crazy thing is that i still had dumb fun. why? because if i'm gonna miss a show with anybody, then rah is the person to do it with. [hold on a second...this is the 3rd time this has happened to us. we got to the roots show just before the end, we missed little dragon when they opened for q-tip, and now this. coincidence?]

but as i was saying: we had fun. the night went in three phases. first, we were both optimistic. second, rah got angry when we realised we wouldn't make the show [and i found her ire HILARIOUS]. third, we get to the show and it's so good that i get angry that we missed the first part [rah finds this HILARIOUS]. anybody that saw us that evening must have thought we were either gonna fight each other, or fight them. neither of us are a treat when we're mad, but we understand each other, and it's all in the name of love.

my highlight of the night was when, standing at the second bus stop, i sent her a gchat message from my phone to her blackberry that simply said:

we're not gonna make it :(

her response was um...rated r. i laughed super hard.

but she was certain that we would make it. even when i was sure all hope was lost, and was taking the journey for the hell of it, rah was positive that we'd catch something. we WERE going to make it, damnit.

and as we stumbled into the show at the tail-end i couldn't help but love her a llittle more. because she was right. we did make it.

and most importantly: we made it together.

see you next time, guys.

seventy.six

*begin rant*

what the cuff is up with people washing disposable plates, cups and cutlery?

they're disposable!

designed and in existence to be used once and thrown away.

you're supposed to buy them safe in the knowledge that you don't have to wash them.

i mean:

if you're gonna wash them anyway then use a real damn plate!

there is nothing more pitiful than witnessing someone washing a polystyrene cup.

..someone scrubbing gravy off a plastic plate whilst trying not to bend it.

..someone meticulously cleaning between the prongs of a plastic fork only for them to snap under the pressure.

please.please.please

just stop!

*end rant*

seventy.five

my name is femi, and i'm a talkaholic.

no, i'm not talking about the need for incessant chatter. i'm talking about the need to talk things out with those i love. we have a problem? let's talk about it. i don't mind if the conversation runs for 3 hours, i'm all about crossing that finish line together and feeling like winners.

but, being the woman that i am [that would be one of extremes], there are also times when i avoid those talk sessions with unparalleled commitment. times when i declare that we don't need to talk about it; let's just leave it 'lone and it will right itself. let's just leave it 'lone and move on.

sometimes i avoid those conversations because they're uncomfortable. as open as i am, the potential for getting upset either because i'm in pain, or i caused someone i care about some pain, is high [my moon is in scorpio so i feel things deep]. and shit, sometimes i just don't wanna feel bad. so i run away.

but sometimes i avoid those conversations because i have a sense that there will be no resolution. it's so demoralising to sit down with someone you love, talk for hours, and end the discussion not because you've resolved the issue, but because you've been talking for hours and you're not getting anywhere. it's demoralising because a conversation that should bring you closer together through mutual respect and elevated understanding, actually results in the creation of distance. distance because by addressing the issue, all you've done is highlight the chasm that exists between you.

if this happens with your partner you can end up reflecting on the viability of your whole relationship. if this happens with a friend you can end up demoting them to acquaintance. if it happens with a family member you can find yourself reflecting on your history. either way, you're stuck in shittyville.

damn. maybe i should've run.

seventy.four

i'm four poems away from completing my book.

four poems. [who-ray!]

today i begun playing around with the layout of the book and got really excited.

then it hit me:

i'm really doing this.

damn.

the amount of things i start and don't finish...

the trail of half-completed tasks behind me...

but this:

i will do.


---
[edit]

i posted this and then realised that i'd written it in my poem style. see how engrossed i am in this project? i impress myself. i really do.

*self group hug*

seventy.three

oooh this looks like it might actually be good!

gabourey sidibe [precious] is obviously the star, but mariah and mo'nique look hella believable.

i'm definitely seeing this when it comes out.

seventy.two

funniest entrance into the big brother house EVER.



aaaaaaaarrrrrrgh!

seventy.one

i upgraded to the nokia e71 a couple days ago. it's been out for a while, but it's new to me, so forgive me for feeling all hip and cool.

thanks to the nokia e-mail service, i now get buzzed everytime i receive a new e-mail [a la the blackberry] which i find uber convenient.

hoooowever:

i have two gmail accounts that i've had synched up for a while. this meant that e-mails sent to both addresses landed in the inbox of the account i used more regularly. however i decided that the account i rarely log into is the one i should probably hook up to my phone as it has the more professional address. this means that i've had to synch up my e-mails from both accounts to the less-used one too, to ensure that i still receive the e-mails people send to the other one. you with me? good.

unfortunately, gmail has started bugging out and is e-mailing me ALLLLL old e-mails, pre mutual synchronisation, to both accounts. they're not coming through to my phone [thank god], but everytime i log in on the comp i'm met with at least 30, and sometimes 150, e-mails i have to delete.

it would be fine if i could always tell which ones were old, and therefore didn't have to open them, but they appear as new, as they've hit the inbox on that day.

so:

here i am being forced to open e-mails from 2-3 years ago and relive my past. e-mails telling friends about the things i planned on doing, that i never actually did. e-mails telling friends about boyfriends being 'the one', when they weren't. e-mails to friends asking for advice when i was going through tough times. e-mails to friends that are no longer friends; some i miss, some i don't. it's like some effed-up version of that tv show, this is your life.

it's so annoying!

[in fact, i think i should add this to the list of reasons for my shitty mood today (please see post below)]

but back to the original point i was making: i have a lovely new phone.

hurrah!

seventy.

you ever wake up in a bad mood?

today i feel shitty. not just shitty, but actually pretty angry. like it wouldn't take much for me to snap at you today, and you probably wouldn't deserve it. like i don't feel like being nice to anyone today. it's so weird.

maybe it's because i slept in a room so messy that it looks like it belongs to someone with serious mental health issues. maybe i have serious mental health issues. maybe it's because i had a dream that an ex was cheating on me [me, him and the other woman were on a bus. he was sat between us. i pretended to nap. he promptly rested his hand on her leg. when i 'woke up' he kissed me and told me how much he loved me. ugh.] maybe it's because i'm so behind with the work i have to do, and so broke while i'm doing it.

maybe, maybe, maybe.

i try not to be a whiner, whinger, moaner: but today?

*whine whinge moan whine whinge moan cry whine whinge moan*

*sigh*

PLUS it's raining today.

*wail*

sixty.nine

this is post 69.

69.

*giggle*

^ this was my shiiiat ^

sixty.eight

spam myspace messages annoy me. they annoy me so much that i can't leave them in my inbox; i must delete them. i then get even more annoyed because i have to put in the extra effort to delete them.

but every now and then i get a message that makes me laugh. every now and then i get a message that makes me think that some spam is worth receiving. here's one i got today:

"Hello Dear, and how are you? just going through your profile which looks very intresting and suites me as a man who deeaserves to be loved by a woman like you. My dear as you know what it takes to see and believe the write up of a woman that says she is looking to someone whom is honest, at this time i am and realy await to get you, and need to get close to you so as to know eachother too well.
I will be of a great man if chances can be giving out to me to make you happy and aswell complete the responsibility of a life time in this world. you are just 2good, 2be, 4gotten, and left behind. Baby, i will be glad to hear from you soon."

how's that free online translator working for you?

i'm assuming they wouldn't write these messages if they had a 0% response rate; so who is encouraging these folks? when you think about it, the crazies that reply are the real criminals. there's no supply without demand, my friend. i just can't imagine opening a message like the one above and hitting the reply button. then again, maybe i should! maybe i should write him and say something like:

"hello darling, i just want to gratitude your words for the laugh to my life. you pebbles my earth with your grandma. baby, i will be glad to hear from you soon."

but, i digress:

the best spam e-mail i've ever read has to be the one below that a colleague received at work. i liked it so much that i saved it and would read it on those stressful 9-5 days. it always gets a giggle out of me.

"Greetings the Friend!!!
I liked your structure on one of places for acquaintances, and I have made a decision to write to yours. Wash name Natalya. In me 28 years. I wish to speak at once to you, that I search for serious communications. I wish to find the one who wished to experience a long and happy life. I very cheerful and at me am a good comic genre. I wish to find much unique love and the true partner in life.

I wait that you will answer me, I ask you to write to this direction: Natmyswet09@gmail.com

I am applied my photo and with pleasure I shall answer you if you will write to me. I shall wait your answer with impatience and I wait that you to not neglect my letter. It is thankful in advance, Natalya."

*tears*

sixty.seven

whose bright idea was it to create the word tomorrow?

the person that made up this scurrilous vocabulary demon is responsible for so much of my procrastination and subsequent unfinished tasks. 'three days from now', or '12 days from now', isn't as catchy as 'tomorrow'. in fact: "i'll do it one day from now" doesn't sound so hot either.

but tomorrow?

tomorrow is so seductive. when i say i'll do something tomorrow i really believe i will. i believe i will, even if i've put it off for four consecutive days. i believe i will, even though my very declaration of intention is also me reneging on the promise i made to get it done whilst in yesterday's tomorrow [otherwise known as today].

but today...it's not so appealing.

today is like tomorrow's less attractive friend that has a major crush on you. you dodge its advances as best you can. you're um...in a relationship see...you've um...made a commitment see...to who? um...tomorrow!

sorry, today.

you lose.

and tomorrow wins.

tomorrow wins because it has jedi mind tricked me into feeling comfortable about how inefficient i can be.

actually: if tomorrow were ever to roll around, it would be the longest day of my life. do you know how many things i have scheduled for tomorrow? my to do list would make oprah's cry.

seriously: i have so much to do one day from now.

but for now, i must sleep.

sixty.six

omg.



why won't he stop?

sixty.five

.summertime in the city.

sixty.four

his name is:

andrew lowe

please remember it. remember it, tell someone else about it and then gloat when you see it splashed over posters in your town. i was put onto andrew via a soul culture e-mail, so thanks to ms. marsha for the heads-up.

but back to andrew.

he's a singer, a singer with a song. some voices tell stories not just through their words, but through their tone, through the subtle inflections they possess. andrew has one of those voices. he's unsigned, and he doesn't have a million myspace friends, but when his voice first bounces off your eardrums you know he's got it. he hails from newcastle, and looks set to join the current swarm of british singers taking over radio stations, stages and charts around the world. i could compare him to some artists you already know, but i think that might detract you from that which he owns uniquely.

so: visit his page and listen to his tunes; get mellow with the fellow.

i dare ya.

sixty.three

lol @ bill o'fooly.

po' lil ole white man.

when he gon' get his free?

sixty.two

i have a new hobby.

i would say that both of my parents hold leftist politics. the university i went to was populated with students that were predominantly left-wing, housing its fair share of socialists and even anarchists. i'm not sure when i became aware of the conflict between israel and palestine, but the side i chose was a no-brainer. palestine all the way, baby! free palestine! i mean, everyone around me took this stance, people i respected and trusted, and that was the only reference point i needed. but if you took me to one side and asked me to explain my position...i wouldn't have known what to tell you except for a few soundbites. i mean, i could reference things i had seen in the news with my own eyes, but with a conflict so rooted in a complicated history, the news today surely needs that historical context to be properly understood.

so the other day i began trawling the web for a history of the israel/palestine conflict [whatever happened to going to the library?]. being that it is such a charged topic, it was very hard to find an impartial article. but then, nothing is impartial, so in the end i plumped for this one. it appears to have more israeli affiliations than palestinian ones, but there's not too much spin on the information it provides.

you should have seen my face as i read this. i got more animated than when i was watching the play-off games. there were dropped jaws, screams and gtfoh's aplenty. this story took soooooo many twists and turns, subtle twists and turns that you can't pick up from a report on the bbc news today. what an amazing read.

so, after all these years, has my opinion changed? no. what has changed is that i can honestly say it is indeed now my opinion. why palestine? well, my short answer would be that the ever-changing population of the area was historically decided by/down to wars and migration. the creation of israel was through ideology [without war], and this is a different beast.

anyways, this has set in motion a new, slightly depressing, hobby. i'm on the hunt for the back-stories of wars, genocides and dictators alike.

next stop: robert mugabe.