femi lives: my life, on internet paper

2011-08-29T02:33:00.001+01:00

*** THIS BLOG IS NOW ARCHIVED ***

[all views/opinions on this blog were held in may 2010 or before.

some are still held, but only the awesome ones.]

www.thisdidnthappen.com

one.hundred.sixty

2010-05-16T20:26:00.000+01:00

well, i guess i don't have anything to say.

or rather, i guess the internet is not where i like to speak these days.

no twitter, facebook, or myspace in my life. and although this blog is sitting here, i don't use it. even writing this entry feels strange. who am i talking to? i feel a tad crazy.

i've had some amazing things happen to me since i stopped posting my thoughts and feelings online. i've had great days, and evenings, with friends; i've started some new hobbies; my health has improved significantly; i've received hand-made gifts from friends overseas; i've read some incredible books; i've reclaimed lost memories; i've reclaimed lost art; i've met someone...someone very special.

and yet i haven't posted about any of it. i haven't wanted to. i haven't even thought to. if the brilliant things that i've experienced haven't resulted in a blog post, then i have to accept that nothing will. when i shut my social networking pages down i wondered why this blog survived, and what i would do with it, but i haven't really done anything. [again, who am i talking to? this feels so narcissistic and weird.]

ah well, public internet expression served me for 6 1/2 years. it started with black planet [i know], and it ends here.

time to take a bow.

exit stage left.

say goodbye to whoever i'm talking to.

buh-bye.

one.hundred.fifty.nine

2010-04-19T12:56:00.002+01:00

oh, hello blog.

how have you been?

it's been so long.

do you still wear your hair the same way?

do you still love views and comments?

do you still have something to say?

i guess we'll see.

one.hundred.fifty.eight

2010-02-23T01:51:00.001Z

am i supposed to pretend that whitney's still got it?

am i not allowed to say that she looks a mess?

am i not allowed to point out that she sounds like

she is smuggling gravel in her throat?

oh. i didn't get that memo.

she can't blame this on bobby.

one.hundred.fifty.seven

2010-02-21T14:41:00.001Z

as the years pass, and everything continues to change, i am becoming more opposed to defining my life in terms of what i do. i have been many things in my 28 years [cashier, receptionist, administrator, management information assistant, service development officer, manager, publicist, journalist...], and i have wanted to be many more things.

that's life. it moves, it breathes, things are born and they die, be they professions or dreams. and so this question, "what do you do?", is outdated to me. it doesn't necessarily tell us anything about someone that points to who they are, or who they will be in the future. i know that i'm a writer, and that i'd like to be able to feed myself from my talent, but when i'm asked what i want to do with my life i don't see myself in front of a computer, or with pen and pad in hand. i see myself in the sunshine, running on a beach, laughing with friends, and lots of other hedonistic things.

i'm know i'm over-thinking this. i know that when people ask "what do you do?" they are not asking you to sum up your existence for all eternity, but still, the romantic in me wishes the only valid answer to this question was "live."

one.hundred.fifty.six

2010-02-21T11:05:00.000Z

you know a song is special when you've had it in your itunes for two weeks and it is already #10 on your most played list.

allow me to share it with you. eternal thanks to the friend who shared it with me.

one.hundred.fifty.five

2010-02-20T19:55:00.000Z

rapture

one.hundred.fifty.four

2010-02-12T01:20:00.001Z

you know what's worse than not having a valentine? having an unwanted valentine.

you know what's worse than having an unwanted valentine? having more than one unwanted valentine.

yeah.

*insert violin playing here*

one.hundred.fifty.three

2010-02-12T00:26:00.000Z

this is very random, and most likely immature,

but these smileys really make me lol.

^ do it with him for maximum effect.

^ it's a banana!

and i think this is officially known as the paula-abdul-american-idol clap.

one.hundred.fifty.two

2010-02-03T02:49:00.000Z

www.thisdidnthappen.com

free fiction you'll surely love, or your money back.

one.hundred.fifty.one

2010-02-03T02:43:00.000Z

there's a saying that goes something like: "show me your friends and i'll tell you who you are."

if that saying is true then i must be quite wonderful. i have some amazing friends, wonderful, fantastic friends. the best part is that they are friends that know how very flawed i am. friends that ask "how are you?" and get the reply "i feel like shit." i do not have any friends with whom i am politely perfect. so understand that when i say i have great friends i mean i have at least ten people in my life with whom i can be 'naked'. who love me when i'm not so loveable. whose kindness makes me feel somewhat guilty and wholly overwhelmed.

there are times when i don't feel like god's fortune is smiling on me. i had one of those moments today. but as i sat there and thought about all the people i could call, and all the shoulders i could lean on, i had to accept that i am constantly surrounded by a divine energy [no boho].

i guess this is one of those posts that doesn't do much for the reader; but i wanted to record this thought and this feeling, if only for myself in those not so blissful moments.

---

"What is a Friend? I’ll tell you. It is a person with whom you dare to be yourself. Your soul can go naked with him. He seems to ask you to put on nothing, only to be what you really are.

When you are with him, you do not have to be on your guard. You can say what you think, so long as it is genuinely you.

He understands those contradictions in your nature that cause others to misjudge you. With him you breathe freely – you can avow your little vanities and envies and absurdities, and in opening them up to him they are dissolved on the white ocean of his loyalty.

He understands. – You can weep with him, laugh with him, pray with him – through and underneath it all he sees, knows and loves you."

- Anonymous

one.hundred.fifty

2010-02-01T05:50:00.001Z

i'm always so humbled when anyone sends me a message or e-mail full of positive energy. i have my moments where i feel like i'm the shit [as we all should], but if anybody ever tells me that they feel i'm good at what i do then it knocks the silence into my mouth at once.

so imagine how speechless and unworthy i felt this morning when i received this link from the lovely rebekah, telling me that i am the first person to feature in her 'isn't she fly' series on her blog. and as if being featured wasn't enough, she wrote these words about me:

"...She was definitely one of the first bloggers that inspired me to create my own...I was moving which caused me to lose most of my pens and throw away most of my paper. I stopped writing for such a long time where I didn't have much inspiration. I lost the drive, based on change of location I pretty much forgot about writing. I was focused on so many other things I could care less about writing anything down. But when I discovered Femi's blog I was in awe with everything she had to say, I fell in love with her words and anything that had to do with her thoughts..."

as a writer who writes just to save my own life, i am truly honoured that my words would encourage someone to pick up a pen. rebekah, you have made my day. sending big love your way :)

rebekah

one.hundred.forty.nine

2010-02-01T05:27:00.003Z

they say ignorance is bliss; i say there's a lot of truth in that.

real ignorance is a lack of knowledge and information. it's not knowing, and not knowing that you don't know. it's the freedom to do wrong, be wrong and love wrong, without knowing that you are doing so.

when you gain knowledge and do what you did before you knew, that is not ignorance, that is stupidity.

this blog is sponsored by my disappointment. by my gaining knowledge about people i respected, and knowing that it would be foolish to continue to do so. this blog is sponsored by my loss of ignorance, and my secretly wishing i was stupid.

but i'm not.

one.hundred.forty.eight

2010-01-28T04:26:00.001Z

did i mention that my face is on the cover of the latest ep from a race of angels?

when i was asked if my picture could be used as the cover, i did not fully understand what it meant. my big old grill is on amazon, itunes and last.fm.

more important than my face is the music though. so please visit cdbaby, purchase the ep for only $2.99, and support some beautiful music from a beautiful heart, and one of my favourite people on this blue earth.

one.hundred.forty.seven

2010-01-28T02:00:00.002Z

i have acquired an understanding of addiction over the past few years. through my health problems, which affected my ability to eat, i have grown an incredible amount of compassion for people we label as 'addicts'.

on days when i couldn't eat i could think of nothing else but eating. if i tried to eat and couldn't keep it down then there were days i would get trapped into a cycle of eating and throwing up. some days it was very hard to stop. the worst thing was that it wasn't the food i wanted, it wasn't the food i was determined to eat. it was that the food began to represent my pain. my determination was really a desire to conquer my health problem, and at that time i was trying to achieve that through food, because that was how my health issues had manifested. somebody suggested i was bulimic. i wasn't. but i appreciated how thin the line was, no pun intended.

last year i read an incredible article by adam phillips entitled insatiable creatures.

"...our excessive behaviour shows us how obscure we are to ourselves or how we obscure ourselves; how our frustrations, odd as this may seem, are excessively difficult to locate, to formulate. Wherever and whenever we are excessive in our lives it is the sign of an as yet unknown deprivation. Our excesses are the best clue we have to our own poverty, and our best way of concealing it from ourselves."

whether through a bottle, a pill, a needle, sex, food or cutting; those who display excessive behaviour are in search of something. it is something these things can never satisfy. they are trying to catch a ride to freedom in a vehicle that can not take them there. i feel nothing but compassion for people battling addiction. we all display addictive behaviour and traits to some extent. we are no different to 'addicts', we are just resting in a different place on the continuum.

do you remember city high?

toby, claudette & robby

a couple of days ago, robby was featured on the a&e television series intervention. he has been an alcoholic for 10 years. he is a man with a big heart, that has suffered some big breaks. by the end of the show i was crying like a baby. this was such powerful television. i highly recommend you set 40 mins aside to watch it. if you are in the US then you can watch the full episode on the a&e website. if not, then you can watch it here.

i felt so thankful after watching this. the universe somehow managed to keep me on the right side of love. tonight i'll be saying a prayer for those one step away from that line and much less fortunate than me.

one.hundred.forty.six

2010-01-19T16:40:00.001Z

it's a real shame when two people love each other, but can't function happily in the same space.

one.hundred.forty.five

2010-01-17T01:27:00.002Z

a friend of mine asked me a question yesterday that i am still carrying in my pocket:

"do you trust your emotions?"

the three second silence which preceded my response said more than the answer i gave. the answer can only be no. i haven't always been happy with what i do with my emotions, but it seems that making positive steps to change how i react to, express and demonstrate my emotions has caused me to dissect and subsequently doubt the emotions themselves. this defeats the purpose of my pursuit. not good. especially not good because passion can not share a house with doubt.

i have always been a passionate person. i have often kept it silenced in a corner, and perhaps that is why i have nearly always exploded into romantic relationships [where passion is required] with pent-up fervor not always belonging to the man i attached it to. well something has to give, because the only person i'm loving right now is me; and i deserve all the heat and light the fire in my belly has to offer.

how do you rehabilitate a passionate person living with an addiction to reflexivity that once helped and is now harming?

i know how, and here is what i'm going to do.

i'm going to don my 'fuck it' cape.

i'm gonna feel every dirty scrap of emotion that i collect from the streets of my life experiences, and if they make me want to scream then i'm going to holler at the highest frequency my voicebox will allow. life is a messy, overlapped, colour outside the lines, bleed through the page to the page underneath kind of game. i want to play for real.

so seriously: fuck it.

not because i don't care.

but because i really do.

one.hundred.forty.four

2010-01-17T01:03:00.000Z

to be your woman

i’d run on glass

barefoot and proud

i’d eat fire

laced with chillies picked from my garden

where the flowers grow wild

in homage to the freedom love provides

i’d destroy brick walls

with only my will

to demonstrate my staying power

then build them ten storeys higher than they stood

to demonstrate my commitment

to being better

to be your woman

i’d cry all the tears you gave me

save them in a glass jar

blown by an old man in china

that has been around the world as many times as i have dreamt

how your lips must taste

and keep that jar in a safe

under your side of the bed you do not sleep in

but will once you discover

that i have made a space

in my everything

for you to call home

and placed the key

on the soft side of the moon

for you to collect

in exchange for your fear and caution

as soon as you can

please run through our front door

rest your cheek on my breast

carry me to our garden

lay me down on the wild flowers

as your woman

and provide the freedom

i know

is found

only

your love

one.hundred.forty.three

2010-01-06T00:41:00.002Z

i've started writing so many blogs and have then deleted them for one of, or a combination of, the following reasons:

a. it'll take too long to write
b. it would sound better if you heard it, as opposed to read it
c. i don't think anyone will care about the content
d. it's too private to share

what kind of blogger does that make me? yes. a crap one.

perhaps my blogging days are behind me :-/

nah.

i gotta figure this shit out!

one.hundred.forty.two

2010-01-06T00:39:00.001Z

have you checked out www.thisdidnthappen.com yet?

it's really good!

and if you have been there, and liked what you read, have you told someone about it?

you really should!

one.hundred.forty.one

2010-01-05T23:37:00.003Z

outrageous nipple hair :(

one.hundred.forty

2010-01-03T01:58:00.001Z

do not make a new year's resolution.

endeavour to be your resolution.

one.hundred.thirty.nine

2009-12-31T13:19:00.002Z

here it is!

my short story website is up and ready to launch tomorrow [01.01.10].

when you have a moment, please visit www.thisdidnthappen.com for daily short and tiny stories from yours truly.

feel free to shout about it :)

2009 has been an amazing year, and i wish everyone the best for 2010.

one.hundred.thirty.eight

2009-12-21T19:54:00.002Z

food from mickey d's has always made me feel a little nauseous, but after watching the video below i am definitely never walking through the golden arches again.

this woman has a 4 yr old happy meal [the irony!] that looks like she bought it yesterday. yesterday! it hasn't rotted. it has no mould. the bread doesn't even have mould. the bread!

how is this legal?

sssssssssssssmh.

one.hundred.thirty.seven

2009-12-21T19:39:00.006Z

every year my dad calls me a day early to wish me a happy birthday.

every year i tell him that it's his sister's birthday, and that mine is the next day.

every year.

when he called today i bust out laughing. it's just so ridiculous. surely by now he'd stop and remember what happened when he called the year before. something should make him second-guess himself and cause him to pull his hand away from the phone and have a good think. but no. his confidence remains untouched, and so every year he calls with an assurance that i just can't fathom.

my favourite year was the one where he argued with me for 2 minutes about whether or not he'd got it wrong. "it IS your birthday today!" like i don't know when my own damn birthday is. after i finished laughing at him this morning he told me [like he does every year] that he'll call me tomorrow.

but sometimes he forgets.

this guy is a trip and a half!

one.hundred.thirty.six

2009-12-18T21:51:00.002Z

elin and tiger woods

i know that everybody is talking about tiger woods, his 15+ mistresses and his possible lovechild, but i want to talk about his wife, elin.

see, women have this thing called intuition. every woman reading this has had that pang in the guts when something doesn't feel right. we notice things, and more than that, we feel things. things not seeming right logically is one thing, but if things don't feel right then we don't care if it's logical or not.

a wife having no clue that her husband is cheating on her with another woman is one thing; but 15 women? this woman's guts didn't pang, her left knee didn't hurt, her nose didn't itch over none of these 15 women? she must have known on some level. as all of the drama unfolds we see that tiger is not that slick (no one is), and left far too much of a trail for him not to be caught. that's if she wanted to catch him, and i don't think she did. perhaps she knew and never said anything to him. perhaps he knew she knew, but they had an agreement that he would be discreet. but my guts are panging about this story because something doesn't feel right to me.

i believe that the physical abuse elin dished out to tiger (which i don't co-sign) and her filing for divorce are related to her embarrassment because now everyone knows. it's either that or she is the most naive, disconnected from self, woman that ever walked the planet.

so get your money girl, but please get your gut good too.

one.hundred.thirty.five

2009-12-16T23:16:00.002Z

01.01.10

mark your calendars for a very special launch on new year's day. my short story website is up, designed and ready to go.

i have a very strong impatient streak, and that part is itching to at least share the name...but good things come to those who wait, and the wait will be over on january 1st.

sooooooooooooooooooo excited!

one.hundred.thirty.four

2009-12-16T23:00:00.002Z

my birthday is in 6 days and so i have begun the personal gift-giving.

first on the hitlist are these two lovely watches that i bought from octopus.

less than 20 quid for both!

one.hundred.thirty.three

2009-12-12T01:52:00.002Z

new. nuevo. nouveau.

as i approach my 28th birthday [dec 22nd people; feel free to fed-ex me diamonds so i can pawn them and buy lots of chocolate] i am beginning to see a new horizon. i can look at events in my life and conclude that it makes sense that right now there is transition, but this feels trite. for when is there not transition in life? transition is the heartbeat of this earth. temporariness and change, movement and growth, progression and elevation. it demands our flexibility, and when we yield to this force we find ourselves discovering new horizons often. so is it really worth shouting about them? yes. say what you see. acknowledge what is there.

so here is my new-horizon-yell in my shoutiest voice: i see modelling work! i see singing! i see fiction writing! the pictures and sounds will arrive later, but my new blog, dedicated to my fiction work, will be launching in the next two weeks.

that's my horizon. feel free to shout about what you see on yours.

one.hundred.thirty.two

2009-12-12T01:50:00.001Z

i've been thinking:

my number one job right now is to be my most fabulous self.

that's your job too, btw.

no slacking!

one.hundred.thirty.one

2009-12-09T00:05:00.004Z

recently, i've been thinking about lines. lines and boundaries, territory and trespass.

at what point does it become necessary to not do what you would naturally do? if you are someone that likes to give gifts, do you give and give and give to people that never give to you? if you are a hard worker who responds well to a structured work environment, do you bust your balls all day long even though there is no reward? if you are a friend that remembers birthdays, do you make arrangements for your friends' birthdays even though they never remember yours?

at what point does being who you are begin to resemble being taken advantage of? when do you stop doing what is second-nature to you? should you? does stopping mean that you are giving people the power to change you? does expecting something in return make your initial demonstration hollow or selfish?

yes, i've been thinking about lines. maths was one of my favourite subjects at school, geometry and algebra being my two favourite topics. thinking about lines has brought me right back to geometry and thinking about the motivation behind being or not being who you are has brought me right back to algebra.

if giving + a lack of appreciation / x = the perfect balance, then: what the hell is x?

one.hundred.thirty

2009-12-08T23:46:00.005Z

have you ever had someone hit on you with such deficient game that you didn't realise you were being hit on? or rather: you couldn't believe that was their attempt at hitting on you?

i was helping a customer pick out some jeans yesterday when he touched my elbow and said "what's your story?"

um.....

Aargh sound bite Tim Allen sound bites

i was confused, but always one to give the benefit of the doubt i thought that he might be a writer. nope. he was a lawyer. cue more awkward customer service from me and off-putting, far-too-intense-considering-i-don't-know-you glances from him. then he asked me my name, and i told him. of course i wouldn't have if we were anywhere else, but you can't exactly withhold your name from a customer. so he asks me if i'm nigerian. nope. i tell him that, although my name is nigerian, my parents are from the caribbean. he then exclaims "see! you DO have a story!"

What What What sound bite Chappelle's Show sound bites

we didn't have the jeans he wanted in his size, so he told me [whilst giving me the eye-strangle] that he'd be back on wednesday or thursday. i suppose i was supposed to confirm that i'd be working those days. nope. i just said "ok." cue the most disturbing three-second linger from him, searching my eyes, looking for a sign that i too was feeling some kind of connection...

nope!

and if he walks into my store tomorrow i will play the most gangsta game of one-player hide and seek that you have ever seen in yo' life.

that's my story.

one.hundred.twenty.nine

2009-12-08T23:17:00.002Z

sean connery is a woman-beater.

funny that his career hasn't been affected by this. and when i say 'funny', i mean 'not funny at all'.

one.hundred.twenty.eight

2009-12-02T00:42:00.000Z

i'm too honest on this blog. i really am.

one.hundred.twenty.seven

2009-12-01T23:53:00.004Z

after a year of being single, with no pressing desire to mingle, i am ready to date. for the first time in years, my singledom was not a result of having to get over my ex, that was tied up some time ago, this time it was just about looking after and enjoying me. but in the past week or so i have noticed that something has awoken in me, a flutter of desire, i'm ready for some male company.

i'm not looking for anything heavy. if marriage is a plate of steak with all the trimmings then i'm looking for a caesar salad. if marriage is a main course that comes with two sides then i'm looking for a starter, or maybe an aperitif. i think i'll leave the metaphors there, because i'm sure you get my drift. i want some fun and some kissy-kissy, but no bridey-bridey.

now, i'm not tooting my own horn, but i do get a decent amount of male attention on a daily basis. it could be because i'm attractive, or i could be a serial booger-smuggler with no awareness of the hefty stalactites on show to all others with two functioning eyes. my ego begs that i go with the former [and carry tissues with me at all times]. so: add to my ability to get some flirty attention to the fact that i a) work in an area with lots of foot traffic b) work in a store with lots of male customers [cute ones too] and c) have a social life back in full effect and on paper it looks like i should have no trouble finding a lovely man to share some time with. well, let's rip that paper up shall we? because there is a very real issue in the way of my date-dom that dawned on me in the late hours of last night...

i don't know how to do this!

i won't count the number of years, for even i may faint at the sight, but it has been a very long time since the internet has not played some kind of role in my dating life. how sad is that? [that's rhetorical!] whether i have met a man online or needed the internet to support a long-distance relationship, i am quite used to e-mails and instant messages being a major communicative tool in my love adventures. the disconnection i was beginning to feel in my friendships, and even within myself, contributed to my retreat from social networking sites [see below post]; but i never really considered how this would now alter the dynamics of my romantic relationships.

i'm not worried about the relationship itself, once it is in full swing then i'm fine. no help needed. it's the beginning that is a mystery to me. the first hello. the flirting [i'm a great flirt, but only when i don't like someone]. the exchange of phone numbers. the who calls who. the what to say. the first date. the first kiss.

hmm...that actually sounds like fun! if there is risk there is reward and i'm about to walk the high wire with no safety [inter]net. i honestly have no idea how i'm going to turn this flutter into a fella, but maybe, just maybe, i'll find my feet as quickly as i used to find the friend request button.

one.hundred.twenty.six

2009-11-28T23:10:00.010Z

my twitter is dead. my myspace is terminally ill. my facebook is fake. after 10+ years of being a social networking glutton: i am full. i can't eat another bite.

it's the end of an era for me. the internet provided me with a non-physical space to express myself and experience a camaraderie with my contemporaries that was lacking in my life in my teens and early twenties. myspace changed my life in so many ways; i discovered there were many kindred spirits all over the world that thought, dressed and felt like me, i found music that i never would have heard on the radio, i made friends online that became friends offline, i found love.

but now this social networking lark feels too fragmented. now it feels too time-consuming. now it feels too demanding to ensure my online representation is in alignment with who i am, or how i'm feeling, or what i'm doing 'right now'. now lol's and omg's feel empty. it's not fun anymore. there was a time when three days without the internet would have had me feeling lost, my life was on there you see; but when i shut my computer down...i effectively shut my life down. i didn't have the social life i felt i had; what i did have was an incredibly powerful illusion of a social life which i clung to with steadfast might. but even air can begin to feel heavy in a tightly clenched fist.

this is not about anybody else, just me. i have no position on what internet usage says about you and your life, i can't possibly know. i'm sharing this partly because people have asked me why i shut my twitter down, and partly because this unpacking of my thoughts is cathartic. be clear though, i do not hate the internet, far from it. i don't know who i'd be or who i'd know if i wasn't given the gift of dial up at 16 yrs old. i'm indebted to those that laid the tarmac on this information super-highway that has been so good to me for so long. but today, 'right now', i don't feel compelled to drive on it like i used to.

i work with people that i adore, that i laugh with all day long. i talk to new people every day, communicating with eye contact and facial expressions instead of emoticons. i call my friends on the phone and meet them for dinner and a movie instead of seeing them in my buddy list every day but not seeing them for months. i no longer want to create pages about who i am that force me to consider how i look to an imagined audience, i just live for me.

so this is now my only internet home. i am in the process of setting up a tumblr for my fiction work [i'm soooooooo excited!], but this is the only place i will use to share my thoughts. i'm still not sure why this blog has survived my internet shutdown spree, but i am sure it will be revealed to me in time.

so it turns out that the internet was unable to give me what i really wanted, and that what i have now is more than i secretly believed possible. consequently, you can no longer find me in the tweets, because i'm in the london streets [corniness intact]. my posts may be sparse, but my life is plentiful. it's kind of weird. i guess a broken compass will still guide you somewhere: and i guess i am here.

farewell social networking, i won't brb :)

one.hundred.twenty.five

2009-11-28T22:59:00.002Z

"...a gift that cannot be given away ceases to be a gift. the spirit of a gift is kept alive by its constant donation."

- lewis hyde on creative talent from 'the gift: how the creative spirit transforms the world'

one.hundred.twenty.four

2009-11-28T22:12:00.008Z

today, i have fallen in love with a woman. her name is mary martin.

above is a tiny selection of her wonderful relief sculptures. there are others on display at the tate britain. that is where i first laid eyes on her. her art struck me as bold and futuristic, perhaps a commentary on the failings of modern freedom which has ironically manifested as refined bondage. how very millennium i thought. imagine my surprise when i learned that mary passed away in 1969.

she is my new crush. i want to see everything she has made. i want to sit in front of her work with a pen and pad; absorb her concepts and translate them into my own language before channeling the transmuted energy into my literary creations. yes. i am in love.

"the end is always to achieve simplicity but the means and processes are often complex because one is not repeating a performance of something that has gone before."
- mary martin

one.hundred.twenty.three

2009-11-07T01:09:00.006Z

my mother told me

when flame meets skin

and flame wins

its heat-light burning through

vaseline won’t do

“use honey”

and she was right

the sweet, sticky medicine made shapes on my pores

before spreading out to give my skin room to

breathe

and in two days you couldn’t even see

a mark

when i heard the unthinkable news

my beating heart got hot

it scalded my lungs

set my gasps on fire

and left my chest plate charred

i had nothing

then in the broken silence i heard the words

“use honey”

and so here i lay

gold smeared on convex breasts

trying to reclaim my breath

hoping that in two days

i will not feel

your mark

one.hundred.twenty.two

2009-10-16T00:34:00.002+01:00

i've been travelling: via feet, heart and spirit.

my fingertips begun to itch today.

soon come.

one.hundred.twenty.one

2009-08-30T23:17:00.002+01:00

holy burger, batman!

some people are up in arms about this vid [this is cooning! why are they singing about mickey d's when obesity is such an issue in our community?! how dare they sing about a multi-billion dollar corporation in a gospel stylee!].

really, people, it's not that deep. it looks like a bunch of sanging-ass friends were messing around and someone starting filming on their phone. i doubt the singer is seriously testifying about a cheeseburger and sweet tea; but his voice?

#bah dah bap bah baaaah: i'm loving it!#

one.hundred.twenty

2009-08-30T17:22:00.002+01:00

if a way to a man's heart is through his stomach then a way to a femi's heart is through her nose. my nose.

i think i was a sniffer-dog in a previous life. there is not much that i hold in my hands [and definitely nothing that goes into my mouth] that i do not feel compelled to smell. it looks nice, but does it taste nice? well first let's see if it smells nice. not just in the privacy of my own home, no no no, i will inhale aromas at your house, at the restaurant, and even at the supermarket. yes, i willingly engage in social faux-pas-dom because my need for nasal confirmation of delightfulness is just that strong. i have been known to try to pick up the scent of products in tightly-sealed jars and vacuum packed plastic. and i also rub my nostril hairs on carrots.

but it's not just food that my snout is obsessed with; it's smell itself. if someone farts then i am that person that will take a sneaky short, sharp sniff to see if i can pick it up. if it is stinky then i will frown, but i will smell again. i am that person that will smell something foul [perhaps rotten food or a b.o. infested item of clothing], exclaim at how horrible it is and then ask that you smell it too. a friend of mine met such a request with the words "for the record: i never want to smell anything that stinks." i thought him quite strange.

however more than food, it is people that i love to smell the most. i don't run up on folks unannounced, but if we have an embrace then you can be sure that i am inhaling your fragrance. i have dated men that i knew i had no future with based on their scent. men who smelled like they were covered in a cologne named four months pour homme. something in me believes i can smell a friend, and i can smell a foe. that by the whiff emanating from the pores of another, i can locate our future journey. it's almost spiritual.

i wish i could inhale you all.

one.hundred.nineteen

2009-08-29T21:36:00.002+01:00

sometimes men are like buses. you wait and wait for one and then...

too bad you already made the decision to...

even worse if they make the decision to...

:-/

one.hundred.eighteen

2009-08-29T21:21:00.003+01:00

nina simone

song lyrics : i shall be released

they say everything can be replaced
they say every distance is not near
so i remember every face
of every man who put me here

i see my light come shining
from the west down to the east
any day now, any day now
i shall be released

they say every man needs protection
they say every man must fall
so i swear i see my reflection
somewhere inside these walls

i see my light come shining
from the west unto the east
any day now, any day now
i shall be released

yonder stands a man in this lonely crowd
man who swears he's not to blame
all day long i hear him hollering so loud
just crying out that he's not to blame

i see my light come shining
from the west down to the east
any day now, any day now
i shall be released

sometimes other people's words can speak for you as well as your own.

soon.

one.hundred.seventeen

2009-08-20T12:23:00.002+01:00

are you like me? do you also think that something about kanye west and amber rose just doesn't ring true?

well it might have escaped your attention, but kanye has in fact spoken out about his budding relationship. not in an interview, no, he doesn't do those anymore. kanye put the details in a song, people. yes he did. allow me to direct your attention to the chart-topping single stronger.

"'cause it's louis vuitton don night/
so we gon' do everything that kan' like/
heard they do anything for a klondike/
well, i'd do anything for a blonde dyke/

and she'll do anything for the limelight/

and we'll do anything when the time's right/

uh, baby, you're makin' it/
harder, better, faster, stronger/

...don't act like i never told ya!"

of course! the best place to hide something is in plain sight. we've been trying to figure out the west-rose union when the answer was already in the ether. the answer was on our itunes. the answer was playing on mtv. we already knew. mmmhmmm...fakery!

one.hundred.sixteen

2009-08-20T11:27:00.002+01:00

so i've been on twitter for a couple of weeks now. my jury is still out on the site as a whole, but i have noticed something that worries me. i know the twitter update box asks 'what are you doing?', but some people use the site to the extent that their page resembles a stream of consciousness.

i think this ties into something that is much bigger than twitter. we children of generation I [for internet] seem to have crossed the line from demonstration into proof. we used to upload pictures to show people what we did, and now it seems we need a picture to show people that we really did do it.

the sad motto for generation I is: if it's not online, it didn't happen.

and for some people on twitter, that seems to go for their thoughts too.

we gon' need rehab, y'all.

one.hundred.fifteen

2009-08-20T10:07:00.002+01:00

being a child of the diaspora, the debate about my identity can rage on indefinitely. how african am i if i've never even been to africa? can i claim to be caribbean just because my parents are from there? do i want to be seen as british when i face racism here?

in 2005 i came up with the nifty idea that i am from the atlantic ocean. the trade triangle sums me up quite well, so why not just drop me in the middle of it? the idea for an oceanic identity came to me while i was in NY and going to a lot of slam-esque poetry readings [you. know. the. kiiiiiiiiiiiind ofpoetryi'mtalkingboooooooooooout]. many of the poets i saw told stories about their experience as black americans. it hit me then, and perhaps as a recent anthropology graduate it hit me harder than it might've otherwise done, that the black american and black british experiences are similar in some ways, and oh so different in others. just like when i'm in the caribbean, i felt quite british. still, i didn't choose to proclaim my britishness, it didn't say enough, and so the atlantic ocean thing just kinda stuck.

to this day i get annoyed when people ask me if i'm english. the answer to that question is no. surprisingly, the answer to that question is out of my little black hands. according to the powers that be, english is an ethnicity, not a nationality. so you can only be english if you are white, and if you are black then you can only be british [check the census forms, me no lie]. again, i'm in no hurry to claim a country that does not want me to and so i invariably check the 'black caribbean' box. although the signs hung in english windows in the 50s read "no blacks, no irish, no dogs", the descendants of those irish immigrants can now tick the 'english' box on the census form with no questions asked. and so they should: hardly anyone from england is english through and through. this country is a nation full of 4th, 5th and 6th generation scottish, irish and welsh immigrants.

during a heated debate in one of my anthropology lectures, our teacher explained to the class that we have the power to self-identify, and it is our definition that counts. it reminded me of a moment during one of my geography classes in high school where two girls, that i would have identified as south asian, spoke about themselves. one girl's family was from guyana, and she identified as black caribbean. one girl's family was from kenya, and she identified as indian. who was right? they both were. the truth is that identity is, and always has been, more patchwork quilt than blanket. it is inherently messy, and it is only getting messier. this suits me just fine.

so i will continue to claim my britishness when i'm not on british soil; cheer england on during the rugby and football, but not the cricket; balk at the very idea of englishness; eat fish and chips; drink vitamalt and listen to a smattering of hip-hop. being british is no longer something i feel the need to reject, and it would be silly to. besides, whatever i might say, my sense of humour [which is connected to the truth] always betrays the part of my quilt that is unmistakably shepherd's pie. i never feel more british than when i'm laughing.

on that note, i leave you with the wonderful we are klang, and a song about racial identity. hilarious.

one.hundred.fourteen

2009-08-05T18:40:00.003+01:00

so paula abdul has decided to leave american idol. damn. who's gonna tell the contestants that they look nice?

one.hundred.thirteen

2009-08-04T17:59:00.003+01:00

the blue bird finally got me.

me: the book is done. now i have to publicise it. i'm terrible at such things, this isn't the funnest part.
friend: have you at least told your regular blog readers about it?
me: yeah. it was done in a half-arsed fashion though. i actually have a few things to tweak before i can push it properly. but i'm not 100% sure how to make it twork after i've tweaked.
friend: well where are you gonna post about it?
me: i would say that i'll start with myspace, but posting anything on there is like talking in a cave these days. nuff echo. where the hell is everyone?
friend: twitter.
me: :-(
friend: you really should get on twitter. stop being stubborn and just move with the times.
me: sigh. i know.

www.twitter.com/femiwrites

*hangs head in shame*

*cries*

*snot bubbles*

one.hundred.twelve

2009-08-04T17:45:00.004+01:00

i am very much a fan of google. be it blogspot, e-mail, calendar, maps or their sexy analytics, i rep google to the def. and while others are happy to use yahoo or ask, i will only use the google search engine.

no others, no way.

hoooooooooowever: can i talk about the lovely search engine found at www.addictomatic.com?

type in your choice of words and this internet hoover will return links from youtube, twitter, digg, delicious, and much more; including the google, yahoo and ask.com search engines. and it doesn't just throw them in some kind of css heap on your internet floor. oh no. addictomatic places them in orderly sections and lays them at your happy, toe-tapping feet.

so now i use two search engines.

one other, yes way.

one.hundred.eleven

2009-08-04T17:37:00.003+01:00

the evolution of a great song:

1

2

3

parts 1 through 3 are good with me.

one.hundred.ten

2009-08-04T16:35:00.003+01:00

the yellow wallpaper

by
charlotte perkins gilman

"the yellow wallpaper tells the story of a nameless woman driven mad by enforced confinement after the birth of her child. forced to live in an attic where the walls are covered in a sickly yellow wallpaper, she does what she has to do, she writes. slowly but surely the tortuous pattern of the paper weaves itself into her mind."
- amazon

i read this book when i was 17 years old. it's a short story for real, no more than 20 pages, and i can remember the visual feast when i consumed it all in one greedy go. the woman in this story is mentally unstable, but now i'm thinking that she's just a regular old writer. how many writers go a little crazy?

plus i don't think computers help. creativity is to be expressed, and the feeling of putting pen to paper brings forth a feeling that fingertips tapping away on a keyboard can't touch. the more i write on a computer, the more mental my process becomes, and the more mental i'm sure i become.

anywhens: i've found the book online here and so, in only 12 pages of well spaced html, you too can experience the pleasure and the pain of the unnamed female protagonist in the yellow wallpaper. i affectionately refer to her as eve.

one.hundred.nine

2009-08-04T16:00:00.002+01:00

"black dudes with dirty sneakers scare the f*cking shit outta me"

*tears*

one.hundred.eight

2009-07-29T09:12:00.006+01:00

my book is complete.

[i'll update this entry some more when i've had some sleep!]

love love love

one.hundred.seven

2009-07-23T01:54:00.005+01:00

so, here it is: the cover.

*the crowd ooohs and aaahs*

this process has been one beautiful headache; and it's not over yet. i always thought writing the book would be tough, but it does not compare to the editing process. lawd, i am not qualified for this! still, when it's published on july 29th, i'ma be like: damn. i really did this. and then the world is in trouble, cos i'll be wanting to do more.

due to my employment status [the status being that i have no employment], i can't lay out the money required to get the book printed. a couple of weeks ago i was close to giving up on publishing it at all, and then [after an emotional experience that i've detailed in the book] i decided to publish as an ebook instead. you gotta roll with the punches right? i'm trying to make lemonade up in here!

publishing this book is a big step for me. i don't think i've ever been so honest about myself or my life, perhaps not even to myself. old foes will be able to read this book and take pleasure in some of the things they read, that's how open i am in these pages. but i'm fearless in general these days. fearless and imperfect, and this time next week i'll never again be able to pretend that i am anything different. how liberating.

i know that everyone that says they are going to buy the book won't do so. that's ok; the well-wishes mean a lot to me. in some ways i don't care if i sell one copy; the riches ultimately come from what i've put into, and not just what i get out of this text. but, to memorialise the kindness of those that do take the extra step and part with their money, i have decided that the first 9 people to purchase the book will be listed in the acknowledgements when the book is printed. and not just the first edition, but any that are to follow.

if you began reading my blogs on this blogspot a few months ago, have been reading my blogs for the past few years on myspace, or if you just stumbled across my page today and like the way i put these words together:

july 29th 2009.

all is well.

[love]

one.hundred.six

2009-07-22T13:07:00.005+01:00

we all like to complain from time to time; exaggerate our problems and make momentary mountains out of molehills. a ten-minute whinefest with a good friend can be fun and quite hilarious. i've certainly enjoyed my fair share.

but people who make drama a way of life, some kind of pseudo career, are really not welcome in my space [pause] anymore. people who turn every situation into a code red, turn every event into a crisis, and make every problem appear unsolvable [just so they can complain about it indefinitely] can exit stage right. hell, they can exit stage wrong, just vacate the damn premises.

the irony is that the only people that have time to make drama out of nothing, are people that have no drama. this is the main reason why it annoys me so much. i really don't need to have intense conversations about shit that you and i both know is a pretend-problem. it's just...well...boring. why waste time complaining when you can be basking in the glow of your good fortune?

the past two years have taught me that perspective is everything. i'll be sharing more about my trials and tribulations in my book, but i'll say now that as someone who has been unable to freely eat and drink for two years, i have had to make a serious decision about the way in which i want to live my life. when you feel like you are staring death in the face you have to either check-in or check-out.

i checked in. i'm tryna see the silver-lining; so if you're constantly looking for the clouds, you're gonna have to rain on another person's parade.

all is full of love. always. and if it isn't, then i'm all about trying to get it there. life is too short for idle griping. i'd rather laugh til i pee on myself.

happy solar eclipse!

one.hundred.five

2009-07-21T01:36:00.002+01:00

maxwell and i have been married for 14 years. he doesn't know anything about it, but i'm happy to report that it's been the most successful relationship i've ever had. we don't talk [because he doesn't know that i exist], and so we don't fight. it's a peaceful, loving [one-sided, but no less potent] relationship. heaven.

embrya, his least popular album, is my favourite. it's one of my favourite albums full stop. i like, totally get it. and i guess i thought this meant that i understood him, that if he was standing in front of me i'd do the fingerpoint to eyes gesture signalling that we're >here<

i really wanted to like this new album. i liked the cover and i really wanted to love the music too. i really did. god knows i attacked all of my friends that spoke ill of what i was sure would be a masterpiece. because um, it's maxwell, people! even if it doesn't blow you away, it's still maxwell and it will still be hot and definitely worthy of heavy itunes rotation. i was certain.

but um...

no.

one.hundred.four

2009-07-21T00:47:00.002+01:00

do you dream when you sleep?

i used to be someone that had dreams every night. when i found out that other people didn't always dream at night i was really surprised. i thought dreaming was a mandatory part of sleeping. the concept of dreamless sleep was something that i found it hard to wrap my head around; and i even felt sorry for these poor non-dreamers.

then about a year ago i stopped dreaming every night, and then i pretty much stopped dreaming altogether. i don't know why this happened, but i thought it may have been my body's reaction to my ill health. i used to love waking up from a full night's dreaming, but it really did tire me out. i'd often wake up ready to go straight back to sleep to recover from the sleep i just had. as i was functioning on very little energy at the time, i think my dreams were kind enough to give me a break.

but this past week i've begun dreaming again. gosh, i forgot how twisted my subconscious is! last night i dreamt [is this a real word? i hate the word dreamed, but dreamt doesn't look right.] that i was in love with usher. usher! ew. my brother took me to usher's house, who was aware of my imminent arrival and feelings for him. people in the house were smiling and excited, no doubt about the fact that they were soon to witness a fairytale moment where usher and i would fall into each other's arms and smooch it up. except this didn't happen. he walked down the stairs, wrapped in a duvet, saw me, and was completely underwhelmed by my presence. he was sucking his thumb [i still suck my thumb, so there's nothing wrong with this. it's genetic, i swear, my grandmother sucked her thumb til the day she died. don't judge me!] and he signalled for me to follow him to his bedroom. no, not to do the nasty, but to sit on his bed, in the dark, while he slept. and then i got bitten by a mosquito.

i woke up tired and confused. what does this dream meeeeeean? nothing probably. i find those dream interpretation books quite pointless; they're like the horoscopes in the newspaper. sooo hit and miss. how about my horoscope yesterday was giving me advice on how to handle people at my job. i'm unemployed! in yo' face random astrologer that only uses sun signs when i am so much more a product of my venus and moon!

anywhens: having these dreams back is turning into quite the bittersweet experience. on the one hand i am excited that they have returned and take it as a sign that i'm getting stronger. on the other i am worried about where my deviant subconscious will take me next.

to be continued, i'm sure...

one.hundred.three

2009-07-19T16:04:00.004+01:00

narcissistic webcam fun.

and now back to designing my book cover...

one.hundred.two

2009-07-17T14:19:00.004+01:00

tell me this ain't gangsta!

forget the angry, threatening songs; this woman is singing to her rival with a smile on her face.

a smile!

which probably means that she's batshit crazy, and would break her rival's neck in a heartbeat.

i also imagine that this song was originally 2 seconds longer: the ending was her hollering bitch!

that's how i sing it anyway.

one.hundred.one

2009-07-17T00:45:00.004+01:00

i've decided that i'm busy is no longer a reasonable excuse for...anything.

it's not a good enough reason for lovers not returning calls.

it's not a good enough reason for friends not being able to hang out.

it's not a good enough explanation for a dirty house.

it's not a good enough excuse for ignoring unexciting, but important tasks.

it's just not.

when we say that we are busy, or too busy, what we are really talking about out are our priorities. it's not that we are too busy, it's that the thing that we are too busy for is not as important as what we have chosen to do instead. i'm not using value judgements; when i say important i simply mean that which is higher up on our list, more pressing. choosing to work instead of go to a party doesn't mean you love working more than being with your friends; but it does mean that you have deemed working to be more important on that particular day.

i've dated guys that were too busy to spend time with me, or return my calls. hearing this faux justification used to annoy the hell out of me, and i would let them know how i felt. then as time went on, and i became more zen, i decided that it was my ego, my imbalance, my resistance that was creating a problem. but then i became a woman with my own incredibly busy periods and i became annoyed again. i became annoyed because i realised that they really weren't too busy to see me: i just wasn't a priority of theirs. i wasn't high up on their list.

i don't want any boyfriend of mine telling me he's too busy for me. if oprah can hold down a relationship with stedman [and possibly gail too], then the average joe can find 5 mins in his day to give me a call. are there exceptions? of course. i know that things can be hectic, and there are all kinds of variables that mean it might not be possible on a given day. but if someone is telling me it's hard to find a moment for me every day? um...no. please don't date me. at some point you have to be honest about what you choose to make time for. this is why i'm not interested in a relationship right now. if i had a man then i'd be the one on the phone saying i'm too busy. truth is that a relationship is just not a priority of mine right now. and if someone did come along that made me reevaluate this then i would have to jiggle my list around, not just plonk them at the bottom of it.

the truth is that if we want to make time for something/someone then we do. i'm busy right now with various journalism projects, my book, website launches, portfolios and looking for a regular job but here i am blogging this entry. i also managed to find time to watch judge judy and big brother today, although i was too busy to call my bank and talk to them about my overdraft. see what i mean?

now, i'm not suggesting that we all start telling our friends that we can't meet for coffee because they're not a priority. i'm busy is the appropriate reason in most circumstances when we're dealing with others. for the sake of polite social interaction, please do not abandon the b-word.

so why do i say it's not a reasonable excuse? because even though it is the best thing to say to others, it is an unnecessary and potentially harmful thing to say to ourselves. it's dangerous because it's believable and it encourages avoidance. we become inept at effectively tackling those things/people that are the least desirable. it can take us weeks, months, even years to eradicate uncomfortable tasks from our lists and stressful people from our lives. this does not bode well for our holistic health.

so, i think it's time for some housekeeping. stop for a moment and think about the people, things and tasks you regularly tell yourself you are too busy for. really just pause for a moment and think.

who and/or what is clinging to the bottom of your list?

why?

now: clear those cobwebs.

one.hundred

2009-07-17T00:40:00.002+01:00

all is well

this is the title of my book.

it will be published on july 29th 2009.

i can't wait to share it.

ninety.nine

2009-07-16T16:22:00.004+01:00

the first time i saw this movie was a complete accident. i was at home, bored and channel surfing when i stumbled across it. i think i stopped flicking and decided to watch it, not just because i was interested, but because i was too lazy to keep flicking.

i could not have predicted that this movie, released in 1945, would touch me the way it did; and that it would leave me with some wholewheat multigrain food for thought. i knew immediately that it was a movie i wanted to own and so i began searching for it everywhere, but to no avail. it's not one of those old classics that you can find in your local video store, so i turned to the interwebs hoping to find a copy. i did find it, but the people selling it on amazon and ebay wanted hundreds of beans for it [how about no?]. after more than a year of intermittent searches i accepted defeat and told myself that this movie would have to find me instead...and it did!

some lovely person has uploaded the whole movie to youtube, along with a heap of other old movies that i look forward to getting into when i find the time. i curled up on my sofa and watched the enchanted cottage one afternoon last week and fell in love with it all over again.

it's hard to explain why i love this movie so much without giving the entire plot [and the special, beautiful, magic moment] away. so i will just say this: what we think and believe about ourselves is what ultimately shapes our experience in and of this world.

to reference my myspace page: think peace, hold hope, speak love.

click here to watch the movie

ninety.eight

2009-07-14T23:27:00.003+01:00

i was making my signature mango & strawberry smoothie this morning when i found this very special specimen at the bottom of the punnet...

as i'm sure you can imagine: my smoothie tasted love-ly.

ninety.seven

2009-07-14T22:07:00.003+01:00

i was on my way home from a very productive meeting this evening and thought i'd get some food from a thai place i haven't tried before.

it's a little family-run spot, and the smell of lemongrass that caressed my nostrils as i walked in made me feel right at home. after ordering my food i was presented with complementary jasmine tea by the momma bear because it was getting cold outside. so sweet. she sat with me and we chatted about the ups and downs of the restaurant until my food was ready. i left, food in hand, and practically skipped all the way home. i couldn't wait to tuck into my treat of chicken and prawn on toast, followed by prawns and vegetables in red curry paste.

sounds delicious right?

well, when she was taking my order, momma bear asked me how hot i wanted my food and i requested it not too spicy; which means mild. but it seems that somewhere between my lips and her ears the words not too spicy transmuted into something along the lines of ON FIRE. after three mouthfuls, and an equal amount of swallows, it began to feel like satan was grilling volcano steaks on a bbq in my guts. if that was mild then i don't even wanna know what hot is like. good gawd. this was the kinda meal that is sure to burn twice. drop by the crib tomorrow and i'll surely have a bag of frozen peas stuffed down my drawers.

huh?

what's that you said?

why did i eat it all?

cos i was hungry!

and aside from the flames of death that were blazing in my mouth and down my gullet: it tasted pretty good!

ninety.six

2009-07-14T10:57:00.003+01:00

i don't mind the pms, cramps and headaches; because one day i'm gonna get to feel this:

being a woman totally rocks.

ninety.five

2009-07-12T00:31:00.003+01:00

when i was 18 i made the decision to 'fix myself'. i can't remember any particular event that precipitated this, and so can only assume that my desire to work out all of my issues, banishing them to my past, was the result of a culmination of experiences. with a dr phil book in hand, i began to explore my demons, determined to discover and destroy them all during an extended family holiday in the caribbean.

looking back, i think i was very brave, but i was also very naive. although looking at wounds can help them heal, they do often leave scars. the deeper the wound, the bigger the scar; and whilst i most certainly caught a glimpse of previously unacknowledged wounds, i was misguided in my attempt to transform known scars into nothingness. scars can and do fade, but the deeper the wound, the less likely this is to happen. for some of our hurts, scars are the final destination.

and this rule rings true not just for my hurts, but for some of my least desirable traits and idiosyncrasies. for whatever reason, i'm someone that internalises...um...almost everything. i get caught up in my head far too much, to the extent that i can think my days away. i weigh up every option for so long that i don't get anything done. i dream so much that i get attached to them and get nervous about my ability to make them a reality.

this is my scar. my scar that i have seen a million times. my scar that i have accepted will not fade. it's one of the reasons why my achievements might seem bigger to me than they do to others, and also why i find it hard to bask in them for very long.

so, almost 10 years since that first dr phil book, i'm embarking on a new mission. not to erase my scars, but to consistenly be more than just the sum of them. to turn my burdens into quirks. to learn how to carry on regardless with a much quicker turnaround. to turn the noise down in my head and make more noise with my mouth. to take less mental steps and walk more miles with my feet. to use my fingertips not just to press against my temples in despair, but to write the beautiful stories of my heart that are far more persistent than i deserve.

i'm fixed on this.

ninety.four

2009-07-11T23:31:00.003+01:00

[july 11th 2009]

radiohead - nude

i'll keep this brief: this is some sexy-ass music. in rainbows is such a work of art. delicious.

honourable mentions:
brutha - she's gone
roisin murphy - footprints

ninety.three

2009-07-11T23:12:00.003+01:00

"soul receives from soul that knowledge, therefore not by book nor from tongue.

if knowledge of mysteries come after emptiness of mind, that is illumination of heart."

- rumi

ninety.two

2009-06-29T13:38:00.003+01:00

# 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

2009-06-25T00:26:00.006+01:00

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.

2009-06-25T00:21:00.004+01:00

i can't stop singing this today.

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

word up.

eighty.nine

2009-06-23T14:07:00.010+01:00

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

2009-06-23T13:33:00.002+01:00

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

2009-06-23T11:40:00.003+01:00

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

2009-06-21T12:14:00.003+01:00

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

2009-06-20T13:18:00.002+01:00

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

2009-06-18T21:50:00.004+01:00

best sesame street songs EVER.

rah!

eighty.three

2009-06-18T18:52:00.006+01:00

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

2009-06-16T20:46:00.006+01:00

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

2009-06-15T00:52:00.012+01:00

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.

2009-06-15T00:06:00.002+01:00

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

2009-06-12T17:24:00.005+01:00

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

2009-06-12T17:20:00.002+01:00

perhaps my favourite ever line from family guy:

for the record guys: it totally is.

seventy.seven

2009-06-12T16:20:00.007+01:00

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

2009-06-09T14:09:00.005+01:00

*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

2009-06-09T01:18:00.004+01:00

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

2009-06-08T00:05:00.004+01:00

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

2009-06-07T17:41:00.002+01:00

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

2009-06-06T17:45:00.002+01:00

funniest entrance into the big brother house EVER.

aaaaaaaarrrrrrgh!

seventy.one

2009-06-06T12:20:00.007+01:00

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.

2009-06-06T12:06:00.003+01:00

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

2009-06-04T01:38:00.001+01:00

this is post 69.

69.

*giggle*

^ this was my shiiiat ^

sixty.eight

2009-06-04T01:14:00.003+01:00

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

2009-06-03T02:28:00.007+01:00

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

2009-06-02T23:47:00.002+01:00

omg.

why won't he stop?

sixty.five

2009-06-02T23:37:00.006+01:00

.summertime in the city.

sixty.four

2009-06-01T13:08:00.003+01:00

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

2009-06-01T13:01:00.002+01:00

lol @ bill o'fooly.

po' lil ole white man.

when he gon' get his free?

sixty.two

2009-06-01T12:21:00.005+01:00

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.