Goodbye 2010

Thanks, it's been swell..

In the new year, I might be creating a new blog, and making it public! Aahh, exciting.
This will definitely involved having a shorterrrr URL. Haha peak times.

I think a read back of these blogs could probably sum up my hair cos I was pretty faithful. Keeping up the writing for 2010, and just expectant and excited for bigger and better things.

God's got me, oh yes.

:)

I'm planning on writing a collection of 14 sonnets entitled 'these are a few of my favourite things'.

Exciting.

This Year's Christmas...Sponsored by Nintendo -_-

Christmas Day.

Always a joyous occasion at Casa Foyeh, whichever family's turn it may be.
This year it was our turn so yesterday and today were spent tidying the house and mum went on a lazy tip and got a caterer to deal with the food.

Christmas morning was spent opening presents. Everyone did especially well this time around and it was surprised expressions and positive reactions galore. My vinyl player and LPs got me so super gassed. Enjoyed a 1963 album entitled 'We Shall Not Be Moved'. Ard. One period of political unrest boy, bare propaganda tunes. And then some Vaughan Williams conducted by Andre Previn himself. Glorious.
Things I'd bought for the family were well received and I was glad because I had spent time choosing gifts and it was also not too kind on my pocket. (God loves a cheerful giver.)

Got ready for the arrival of eight extra family members and one family member to be. Family #1 traipsed in, greetings were thrown across the hallway and caught in warm embraces. I was happy to see everyone but I was bitterly disappointed when my cousins, aged 8 and 4, immediately proceeded to whip out their new gifts 'Nintendo DSi's and have a good old play. What happened to quality family time guys?! Haha. I turned into some oldie overnight.
The wii has also been the source of great entertainment. Thanks Nintendo.

After a rant of mine (along the lines off 'guys, why are you all playing your DSs? I've left my blackberry upstairs, what do I mean to you?! ha), we settled down and watched Happy Feet which after some dispute turned into She's the Man.
Rest of the day has been filled with Scrabble, movie making, piano playing, out of tune singing, a drive to look at christmas lights, youtube video watching and eating. Fun.

Really unimpressed that the 14 year old and the 13 year old are currently the same height as me. What manner of nonsense?! -_- ahaha. I come from a family of tallies. It's a beautiful thing :)

Thanking God for everything. I really am so blessed. Today has been filled with food, family and love. Something that I properly take for granted and realise that so many people are without :(

Isaiah 9:6 - the reason for this wonderful day. 'For unto us a child is born...'
God sent his son to be born, to die, so that I could have life and life to the fullest <3>

Sneaky peak preview

Gonna post the beginnings of a poem that I'm currently working on. Just for funsies.
It was really weird actually, the evening when I decided I was gonna write on this concept, I was doing some youtube poetry watching. After watching for like 40 minutes, I clicked on one vid and was like okay, after this one I musttt go and write my poem. And oh the irony, the poem I started watching was based on the same concept as my unborn poem. It was so bizarre.
I went on with the poem anyway, but I'm thinking, unintentionally, it will now have elements of the poem I watched in it. Never mind...
(It's consciously a typical 'im black(and asian) and proud/them and us' kind of poem. My views to an extent but highly exaggerated. Cheeky bit o' feminism in there too)

Boxes.

In some respects, we are nothing but lettering and numbers on various pieces of paper and cards.
From birth certificates to passports to drivers' licenses to the forms we fill in every single time any single things happens.
Same questions.
Name. Date of birth. Gender. Race. Race.
(Although that won't be taken into account at all in the processing of this form)
Please tick the box which applies to you
Tick. The. Box.
Tick. The. Box.
How dare you try to squeeze me and my heritage into one tiny box?
Mixed: white and black.
Mixed: white and asian.
Mixed: other.
Mixed: other. Is that all I can tick to represent what I am?
The rivers that ran riot through the souls of my ancestors cannot and will not be contained by your box
The Gongola river where they washed their clothes and washed their souls and were born anew
Mass gatherings at the Ganges to soak their far from sullenly coloured saris
And give their young freedom to splash and wade as they pleased
Your box cannot and will not define me
The contours of my countries nor those of my corpus do not course in straight, angular lines, they will not fit
In fact, all your boxes fail in their attempts to imprison me within their categories and subcategories
My female form will not be fettered
The ebbs and flos of she, the bump when life begins inside of me are not lines and right angles, they are curvaceous and round
Like the sun and the moon
Naturally in tune with nature and the natural ... TBC.

Ex

Wrote this one about 2 weeks ago. Literally came out of nowhere.

Ex marks the spot where the pain is high
Where the tears of the river in your heart have run dry
Past memories resurfacing
As hard as you try you can't get rid of em
What once was can never be again
Things are different
Bitterness remains
That's why everytime you say his name, it's as if you're spitting out sour grapes
my EX James, John, Tom, Ben, Alex, Matt, Tyrone, Eli, Sam
all of them, the same
Too much work, too much game
All is fair in love and war
You thought you'd won the battle but you were wrong
And now you're back to square one
Ex marks the spot
Locates the source of pain
As though it's a pot of gold
Treasures of old, once enriching your life
Now trying to hold you down
Tryna put back your frown
And this is why you must guard your heart
Recruit the finest soldier
The Prince of Peace
Who'll fight and fought to the death to protect you
He's there for you, and won't ever disrespect you, cheat on you, make you feel nything less than good
Because you are precious to Him
AS a woman of virtue, you're worth more than rubies
And there'll be crooks and creeps
that will attempt to break in and rob you
But know that if you've got Christ within you
He'll unlock your door when the right man is in view
So seek God and find your value in Him
Don't fall for an any guy that buys you nice things,
And in your ear, whispers sweet nothings
Cos they are all that they claim to be, absolutely nothing
And you my dear, deserve more than that.

Winding Down

I can't believe I'm in my 10th and final week of the first term of my first year at university.
It all seems so surreal. How did this happen? When did I start getting old?

It really has been a beautiful 10 weeks. Mainly ups but some inevitable downs.
I've met some sick people, and I've seen some sad characters. I've learnt a lot and I've had fun.
I've had the opportunity to watch some amazing shows, been introduced to some dope music.
I've been the advice giver and the advice receiver. I've become the lazy cook I always knew I'd be, which isn't terrible - I enjoy my food...

Things have happened which I didn't expect. I've been exposed to new outlooks on alot of different situations.
I guess I've also realised who my true true friends from back home are. Although, I think I knew that already.
I've learned things about myself which I don't like, and things which I do.
I've experienced God in a beautiful way and been more appreciative for everything.

It's only Monday and the last week of term has already been so interesting. It's as if the kettle has been boiling for 9 weeks and now suddenly, the steam is rushing out violently and it's a bit overwhelming.
Emotions are running high. Group dynamics are shifting. Relationships are changing.
And I, I'm just sitting back and observing I suppose.

I'm feeling good though. I know for a surefire fact that I'm here for a reason and there's something that I have to do and for whatever it is, I am super excited. I'm grateful for all the people that God has brought into my life and also the people that He has surreptitiously taken out. The way God's got me man. Hey. It's amazing.

Right now, it's a Philippians 1:6 ting. This is just the beginning.

Nostalgia

I've just come back from work.
I didn't really want to see what was showing, but chose to work because they were understaffed and seemed kinda desperate.
It was a 'County Music Spectacular', which on arrival, I learned was all the school orchestras in the county of Warwickshire coming together for a big concert.

At the beginning, I was feeling slightly unenthusiastic. A child had been sick in the audience seating area, so there was a delay in opening the doors. Audience was getting restless and I just felt suffocated amongst bitchy and stressed-out parents, along with the school politics and equally as stressed teachers.

However, when the performance got underway, I couldn't help feeling nostalgic for my musical experience throughout my school life. The orchestras were mainly made up of strings and I, an ex-violinist, used to play in orchestra. The first two groups were not amazing, but they were aged like 6 to maybe 11, so it was forgiveable and quite cute really.
Then came the County Youth Orchestra. The pros. Dressed in their black finery, looking elegant in comparison with the scraggly primary schoolers, lopsided skirts and too-small jumpers galore.
They played extremely well, and I was super impressed by the solo cellist. She looked about 16/17 maybe, and her playing was like stunning, beautiful tone and musicality etc.
I couldn't help but be moved by listening to them playing so well, and seeing the young ones gazing in awe at them from the balcony seats and thinking that it won't be long before they become the gazees.
Time is that fleeting.

The climax of the evening came at the finale however. All the ensembles joining together to play one final piece. After what was more like a stampede in the African plains to get everyone on stage, all the students were ready to begin, instruments at the ready and at the conductor's command, the music commenced.
The different range of ability obviously affected the piece's success but considering, it sounded pretty impressive overall.
Typical of the classical genre, the music ended with multiple perfect cadences, giving a definite, very strong ending. As soon as the conductor dropped his hands, the audience erupted into rapturous applause. And suddenly, I felt myself begin to well up. It was as the audience gave standing ovation in ripples, and I saw the look of sheer joy on parents' faces, the utter relief from all the teachers who were milling around the sidelines, the union of experienced and nouveau musicians and the pleasant memory of performing in such situations and remembering the feelings I felt, and seeing those very feelings manifest in the children.
I didn't cry, but my eyes were certainly watering.
And even though I didn't know any of the kids, I felt proud and looked on as a mother would as they filed out of the concert hall. (Not in a creepy way obvs ha)

:)

Definitely just wrote a sonnet.

I'm really excited about the sonnet I've just written.
Haha.
I think it's just the fact that it is a poem with a form.
I'm such a loser.
Anyway, I called it Sonnetry. (subject to change). And here it is...

We'll make love in verse
Each rhyme, each line better than the first
A bedspread of words, adjectives, nouns. verrbs
Our love will be like a complex sentence, perfectly formed with commas and semicolons as the different parts of us
I'll write you good and you'll write me better
Sealed with a kiss like a soldier's love letter
And whether or not the whole world's watching
We'll scribble our love across the night sky
Just you and me and the Most High
Like ink on paper, it'll be plain and simple, black and white
We'll love each other and we'll do it right
The combined rhythm of our hearts will create the beat to our love poetry
Soft and sultry
It'll be love the way it's supposed to be.

Definitely had to count to make sure it actually had fourteen lines. Ha.
Oh and musn't forget to thank Carol Ann Duffy who influenced this piece.

Wishful Thinking.

I wish I could split myself into numerous different mes. (That's me pluralised)

I'd go to Haiti and help where I can to get them back on their feet.
I'd sit with a homeless person all night and tell them about Love.
I'd build wells in Africa.
Sit with my great-grandmother in Malaysia.
I'd take a nap.
I'd write poetry without ceasing and be able to draw on all the feelings of the other mes.
I'd sing songs on the metro.
I'd cuddle up with my ma and watch American dramas all day.
I'd read all the best novels written.
And watch all the best films.
And all the most interesting documentaries.
And be at the most beautiful spots in all the world so I could catch every sunrise and sunset.
I'd cry. I'd laugh. I'd smile. I'd hurt. All at the same time.

My whole being would not be heading to this grammar lesson right now.

:)

Zoned Out

Sudden mood shift
Can't figure out what it is
That makes me lift
Myself out of certain
Situations
Frustration flutters through every fibre of me
As I sit pensively
And try to work out what this feeling is
That has come over me
It's never supposed to be
It's always uncomfortably discussed
Or fragily addressed
Never coming to a concrete conclusion
Always wanting to unconfuse that confusion
Others attempt to analyse it on my behalf
But I'm often quite unsatisfied,
unconvinced
Or maybe just unimpressed by an identification of a character flaw
That is undesirable
Unfireable
Cos it's there and it comes and goes
As it pleases
And nobody knows
Why or how

Unnamed.

I wrote (well, finished) this on Tuesday. I think it's the most dramatized poem I've written, or one of the most. Proper came to life when I performed it; a lot of dynamic and shading.
Lovely stuff. Well received :)

When you speak,
Your words are like bullets,
shooting holes in my heart.
You wouldn't know
Because the crimson doesn't show until I'm alone
Each unthought about word
Comes flying at me at 76mph
catching my aortic pump every time it beats
and jilting my whole body slightly out of rhythm
precision
If only I told you
or showed you
You might be able to restrain your weapon
By lending it to the cat for a while
Or letting your train of thought go that extra mile
Where you'd see me on the platform
with another hole punctured in my soul
And you'd be able to hold your tongue
Prevent pain on my part
At the small cost of a second later response
Your tongue is your most powerful weapon
So use it wisely
It can wound like a sword or bring hope like the sunrise after a stormy night
So. I guess I'm letting you know now
When you speak,
Your words are like bullets,
Shooting holes in my heart.

Stir-fry Gone Wrong

On the topic of feminism...
It seems that us girls who stand for female empowerment are slightly deluded in our plight to gain male and female equality.

Myself included, we will be first onboard the train that's destination: equal opportunities for both men and women. We're adamant in our view that men and women should have the same pay for the same job, which does make perfect sense.

Yet there are still other traditional male/female differences that we maintain. Traditions that still hold women as 'weaker' or 'lesser' to a certain extent. But we don't dispute them, because they actually work in our favour.

An example, a friend of mine was constantly troubling another friend of mine. In a joky manner obviously, but it was clear to all of us that it was getting on his nerves. The first friend, being a tough, tomboyish type girl who likes to play around, was always hitting him and tripping him up etc. and the second friend, a weedier type boy, had enough, having told her multiple times to stop and being visibly pissed off. And so he gave her a quick, cheeky slap on the face. And immediately we, (4 girls) were outraged. Shouting cusses at him for even daring to think of hitting a girl. Then after all the hype had died down and we were onto a different topic, my mind couldn't help but question whether in our yearn for equality, it was fitting to say that a boy can't hit a girl.
Surely, we should be able to hold our own against a man.
Why should they not hit us? Because we're weaker than them? That's basically what we're admitting with this "rule."

The second example.
There's a boy in our halls who's a swimmer and therefore got a really hot bod which has only been seen by one of us girls. This girl tells us that it is AMAZING and that we all must see it. And so, we decide to straight out ask J to show us his body. He refuses even after continuous pestering. So we give up. But then later, we're sitting in the corridor, talking, and J comes out of his room which is just next to where we're sitting. And immediately, this girl is like, 'ooh J, show us your bod!' followed by the rest of us encouraging him to take it off. He shuts the door. And we continue, chanting now, banging the floor, right outside his door.
This girl stops, and she's like, 'Imagine if we were guys and he was a girl. That would be terrible.' We all enthusiastically agree, because it is so true.
But then we acknowledge that we're girls, so it's okay, and we carry on chanting.

I just found it all so interesting.

He still hasn't shown us his body.
It's only a matter of time...

In love with the boy down the hall

I was so super apprehensive before coming to university it was kind of amusing.
Well not really, but you know.
All that crap about not wanting change. It wasn't crap, but it just seems so silly now.

So silly now that I'm here and having the best time.
There's so much to do, it's a little overwhelming but more really great.

I've got such a lovely view from my room. Every sunset is magical and the autumn leaves are gorgeous. The ducks outside in the little pond actually make my morning every day. They're so amusing. The thought of them is properly making me crack up.

The people are fantastic. Our kitchen is clearly the best kitchen but also clearly the messiest. We got a fine this morning, oops. I've called a meeting however. Whether or not anyone will come, I have no idea.
No-one here is really a bait person of any sort. It's nice, bare variety and that. Lots of surprises.
Only one minor drama so far, but that's over now.
The Erasmus students from Italy. Love them so much. They're so beautiful. Like personality wise and on the outside.
I'd like to marry an Italian person. Or someone who has some italian in them and is very in touch with their italian heritage ie. has a house in italy and speaks italian (Y)
They're teaching me the lingo. Score.

Everything just seems to have fallen into place so, so wonderfully.

And so many things have changed already, things in my surroundings and things about me.
But finally I'm learning to embrace the change.

Sugarless tea drinker.
Pacman addict.
Bold person who volunteers to do anything and everything.
Non-raver.

I always was the latter. But moreso now. Maybe. I don't know.

No image uploads for two hours. Boo.
I was only gonna upload pacman. And maybe my face :)

Time to do my laundry now. Fun.

Song of the moment. 'If the stars were mine - Melody Gardot'/'im sh** - cjhk'
Yum :D

I secretly like being cheesy :/

It's National Poetry Day today, and my sister's birthday.

So to commemorate this oh so special day, here's one I made earlier :)
A very simple one, not my best at all, no word play or fun metaphors or imagery. Mere words. Which is sometimes enough.

My Sister

My sister
She's kind and caring
Creatively minded, good at sharing
She often does my hair and
When I'm going out, helps me pick an out-fit
She tells me honestly if something's not working for me
And her wardrobe plus mine equals perfect choice of clothing
Sometimes though,
As siblings tend to do
She pisses me off
By taking my stuff
Or just being mean
Or making me feel I'm twelve less than eighteen
I'm the butt of her anger
Like she's the butt of mine
But whatever happens
It always works out fine
Cos once she's over her issues
And has had time to unwind
The same for me, once I count eight, nine
Ten
Then we make each other laugh
Up til early hours, just jammin or takin pictures in the bathroom
For years we shared a bedroom
Told secrets and managed to keep shtum
Now we're grown
She's doing what she's doing
And I'm doing me
She already did university
That's what my next step'll be
I learnt from her mistakes
So the same ones I didn't make
Although our paths in life are different
One thing will stay the same
The blood that runs through both our veins
Olowofoyeku-David blood
Unique to her and I
Will keep us close together
Til the day we die

07..10..10 <3

Dog days are over

Rien que nous deux
On y parviendra
Si on l'essaie
Simplement nous deux
Toi et moi

Je vois le goutte cristal qui tombe
Et la beaute du monde
Quand le soleil brille partout
Les arcs en ciel dans mon esprit
Quelquefois quand je te reflechit
J'ai envie de vous

Rien que nous deux
Chateaux crées de mon foi
Simplement nous deux
Toi et moi

On cherche l'amour, pas temps pour larmes
L'eau gachés ne fait Des armes
Et les fleurs ne fleurissaient
On sait que tout vient a point
Mais pas pour gens qui attendent trop tard
Il faut aller pour tout qu'on connait

<3

Perdue (accentless)

Perdue dans mes pensees
Et je ne veux pas être trouvées
C'est comme un reve dans mes pensees
Un reve ou le passé ne jamais se termine
Et le futur est comme le present
Et rien ne change pas
Il y a beaucoup de different sentiments dans mes pensees
Et je ne peux pas identifier chacun
Parce que je ne les connais pas tout
Un mélange des emotions avec qui je ne suis pas si familier
Dans mes pensees tout est possible
Et j'oublie le realite de ma vie courant
Et je suis vraiment perdue
C'est fantastique

Perdues dan mes pensees
Et je ne veux jamais être trouvées

Keep the change

I don't like change.

Not in the slightest. I'm not sure what kind of person that makes me
but once I'm comfortable, I like to stay put.

Everything's changing right now. Or it's changed already.

I remember 7 years ago. Last day of year 6. Emotional times. I have a
photo in my room of me and my 4 bumchums, arms around one another,
faces red and eyes puffy from crying. When it was time to leave Maya and I sat at our desks (those oldschool Victorian ones with inkwells
and lids) and said that we were not ever gonna leave, they'd have to
carry us out. Eventually we left but I remember going home and just
crying. I'm not good with change.

And now here comes another huge step that I don't feel like I'm ready
to take. I know I probably am actually. But maybe I don't wanna be. I
know that a little while down the line I'll be having the time of my
life but right now, I just wanna stay put.

I worry sometimes that I didn't treasure my childhood enough, or
didn't take advantage of all the opportunities I had. I reckon I did.
But even if I hadn't. What can I do now?

I'm excited. But more scared.
Way more scared. I've attempted writing a poem, but I just can't seem
to express exactly how I'm feeling. It's all a bit much.
I'm overwhelmed.

My heart aches for the past. Like literally, it hurts.

I Am My Hair

Inspired by the India Arie song, 'I am not my hair'. Enjoy.

I am me

And in being me

I am everything that defines me

All the different parts of me

I am my Nigerian father

I am my Malaysian mother

I am my British birth

I am my Christian faith

I am my laughter loud

I am my blackness proud

I am my poetry in my motion

I am my song

I am my long

Black, hair

I am my hair

Long because of my mum

Tough thanks to my dad

Wasn't conforming to others' perception of beauty by relaxing it

Simply needed a way to stop them from chopping it

All off

Which is what could've been

Because of the way I used to scream

When aunties combed, pulled,

greased and plaited

Now with the flick of hair

And an eyelash batted

I can exploit my feminine wiles

But I don't

My hair is an extension of me

It is my womanhood

When I take off clothes

And let my hair tumble down

And my soft locks caress my breasts

I feel like a woman

And when I walk down the street

Hair blowing in the breeze

I feel like a woman

And if my tresses were to be trimmed

Drastically

I think I might pull a Samson

And go weak

I don't hide behind my hair

But it's always there

Like some kind of support system

The ways in which I love it

I couldn't list them

"Bad hair days" aren't "bad hair days"

Because they're still "I have hair days"

Yes, I am my hair

Summer

This summer has been like the Summer of Inspiration, no lie.
Everywhere I go, everything I hear or see and everyone I meet is inspiring me, making me think, compelling me to write.

This really is a new phase in my life though.
It's the time I've been waiting for, for a very long time.
A time when all there is, is me and time.
Nothing to work for, just results to wait for.
I can do anything I want.
I'm free. To a certain extent.
Obstructions to my freedom are my job and my mother. Ha.
Two things which I love. Honestly I do.
My field of work is a loving field. When I enter the door I'm greeted with various different voices calling out my name, big hugs, hot-off-the-easel masterpieces and evidence in cuts and bruises of the day's goings on.
Children are delightful.
My mother is a loving mother. Sometimes I think she's doing a terrible job as a mother and I want to throw pillows at her and tell her she's rubbish and highly irritating, but I don't because most of the time she is brilliant. Actually, all of the time she is. Just sometimes, I beg, hands clasped together and on my knees, to differ.
And she's one of those mothers that daily proves the "Mothers know best" theory.

Anyway, I digress. But I won't apologise for my digression. I think that's the beauty and slyly the purpose of blogs. They allow someone like me to literally document the thoughts that go on in my head, as they happen. And what is a thought train without digression.
If one stayed on the same line of thought, one wouldn't get very far.

So yeah, inspiration.

(I've just put my head on my hand, which is fisted and on the table. My knuckle is meeting with the centre of my forehead, and I'm still feeling the bruise which has been there for like two months, no joke. I'm slightly concerned...)

Inspiration is just coming from all directions, yes.
It's only a little bit overwhelming.
But I'm taking it all in my stride, attempting to channel it in intelligent, creative, ground-breaking ways.

I'll be updating the blog with the fruits of this inspiration.
Currently collecting the water to nourish the seeds that have been sown.
I'm very excited.
And I'm hoping that I don't just get carried away soaking up all these new sources of stimulation
but I'm actually do something with it. Otherwise it's a waste. And I'll feel like a waste.

I don't think blogging or writing one's feelings/emotions is a sign of weakness. It takes strength to put pen to paper, or fingers to keys. To take pent up, complex emotions and turn them into something tangible or relateable is strong. To write something, confirms its reality, your acceptance of it, but also your attempt to do something about it. Obviously depends on what it is. But yeah.

Inspire

I don't know what inspires me
Perhaps it's a gust of warm wind tickling the trees
Or the gently trickling freshwater streams
The view from a high tower onto the city below
Waking up in the morning to a fresh blanket of snow
I don't know

It might be the smile of a friend
Or a story of success having dealt with life's obstacles
And not responding with stress
Instead taking it all in your stride
Not puffed up with pride
But confident on the inside
Knowing that after the rain comes sunshine
And the rainbow in the sky is still a sign

The story of a child
Innocence robbed brutally
Broken in pieces
By someone who was meant to be
Trustworthy
Meant to be the only
One who would never let her down
The one who should've upturned her frown
Instead he put it there and made it stay for far too long
But now that pain has made her strong
What he did was wrong
But the outcome is a free bird singing her song
She still longs
To be loved in the normal way
Her view of sex was distorted
As on her back she lay
Helpless
While he had his wicked way
Didn't have to pay
But treated her like a prostitute
Calling on her as he pleased
She didn't understand
Felt like she was diseased
Dirty, unclean
His scent brought unease
The sound of his key in the door
Struck a painful chord
On the strings of heart
She couldn't even remember when it did start
Of her life for so many years it had been a part
Then one day she chose to depart
Packed her bags, shut the door
And never looked back
Carried a cross on her back
And in her just do it rucksack
She held her few possessions
A book of confessions
A bit of change for the concession
Shop
Heads over to the bus stop
And leaves her past behind for good
No longer a girl from the hood
Gonna start all over again
Though it wasn't her fault
She's got to take the strain
Of the rejection, the pain
Doesn't tell anyone from whence she came
Just states her name
Jane
No y, looks like sane
Won't ever take a trip down memory lane
The thought of the first time might drive her insane
A happy disposition she must feign
But it's not long til she begins to feel like this new home is her real home
Around the area she's free to roam
Breathing in the fresh air
Free from his long, greasy hair
That would brush against her skin
As he invited himself in
To her
Now she's moved on
He didn't come after her
She's one of the lucky ones
Lucky enough that she inspires me
To speak for the unheard in my
Poetry
Frankly
Honestly
Whispering their story
With my pen
Then shouting it out loud
Again and again
So everyone can hear
And the madness ends
Pickneys don't have to fend
For themselves
No water or bread
Just a body and a head
A head full of dreams and ambitions
Vivid visions of getting away from the poverty
And possibly
Taking the whole village with them
Daily grind
Not trying to get paper
Literal grind
Grinding the corn to get flour to make the bread to sell so you don't get left for dead
Books left unread
But wise words said
And kept in the head
While the babies get fed
The most striking colour is red
Red blood
Blood red diamond
A product of the mining
The undermining
The beginning of demising
It's not hard to find someone who to confide in
Cos everybody's grindin
These are the people that inspire me to write
Inspire me, with my words, to fight
Fight against the strife
Speaking words of life
There. That's why I pick up the mic.

Pheww. Can somebody say epic?! Lol.
But yeahh, there you go.
All the word sentence cut-offs and stuff are purposeful
Cos that's how I would perform it.
Performance poetry out erree baby yeahhh.

SPOKENWORDPOETRY

is about to take over the world.
Just come back from Manchester where WordCup Final 2010 was being hosted.

http://www.applesandsnakes.org/page/66/Home/214

Wow. Is all I can say.
Kids aged 13-16 getting on stage and performing spoken word poetry to a substantial audience.
Some of the lines they had written...mind blowing.
I was definitely inspired.
The subjects they were dealing with too; politics, injustice. Big stuff for little people. So impressive.
One of my favourite lines - one boy from the west midlands saying how he thought war was pointless.
"Why we usin bullets when we should be usin ink?"
Jeeez. Crowd went MENTAL.

Haha. And it was nice, having performed the night before, just to enjoy the next generation speaking their minds with such eloquence and maturity.
I was just soaking it up I tell ya.

And afterwards I started writing, and I couldn't stop.
Next blogpost - rough draft of my longest poem ever ha.

How Apt

"happy i stopped useless debates that lead no where. silence is often misinterpreted but never misquoted."

Someone on my facebook had this as their status earlier on today.
I think it's maybe the story of my life.
Although, altered slightly, as my silence is sometimes just a word silence because I'm laughing :)

Misinterpreted as rudeness, ignorance, a shallow view on matters or disregard for the topic.
But definitely not any of those things most of the time.
Normally because nothing's really properly sorted out in my head anyway.
Maybe some things are. I can't even sort myself on whether I'm sorted or not. Eesh.

Indecisiveness is a by-product of this unstable mental state, and it just makes me seem like someone who has no clue about anything lol.

I don't really think silence is golden at all,
but at times it does hold great value.

Got my groove back

Last night I realised how much I love soul/funk music.

And I also realised how rubbish the music of today is.

Okay that's like a gross generalisation but I don't think I could ever get down the way I get down to Stevie Wonder and James Brown to like Tinie Tempah or someone.

It just feels like there's no soul behind music anymore, no passion, no driving beat behind the music that compels me to dance. Also live music is just yes.

It don't gotta be soul music, to got soul.

It's like a lot of mainstream musicians make music to make money or be famous, not to share their music. Maybe I lie. A lot of musicians proper love music and you can tell. Like Corinne Bailey Rae - she's sick.

This is just my personal opinion anyway.

And it's probably highly influenced by the fact that I just had a soul-filled Saturday that may have got me gassed. Haha.

Oh well.

I still love it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=inXC_lab-34

J'en ai marre.

Oui, j'en ai marre, mais j'en ai marre de quoi?
Je sais pas. Je sais rien.
Je sais jamais rien. Ce que je sais est que je suis tellement schizo.

Je ne peux pas prendre les critiques et ca ne me plait pas.
Je pense que ça montre un caractère faible.
Mais je ne suis pas faible.
Mon rire est un source d'un grand nombre de critiques.
Mais pourquoi est-ce que ça m'affecte? Ce n'est pas un probleme. Je m'en fous.
J'avais donné à beaucoup beaucoup de personnes les conseils comme, "ohh ignorer les haters, leur opinion ne fait rien."
C'est nul ça. Vraiment nul.

Bien qu'on dise "je m'en fous", tout le monde fait attention à ce que les autres pensent à lui et leurs opinions nous affectent et nous influencent.
C'est la nature humaine je crois.
Que faire?

... Rire

















Mmm, apres tout ca, je me sens bien heureux.
Formidable :)

People Say The Best Things

I always find that whenever I'm feeling a little bit down, someone always comes along, who doesn't know I'm feeling down, and just says something that makes me properr smile. And they never how much their words, though trivial, have affected me.

Goshh that sounds so lame and convoluted. But whatever, it's true.

I hope I've had that effect on someone...

"My test is on the 2nd"

"What time is it?"

"11.11"

"Ooh, thats a good sign! that's very symmetrical

and it looks like 2 people with their hands up going YAY

you and your instructor!"

Brilliant :)

Poetical.

Here's something I wrote a couple of months ago.
Its unnamed. Sighh. Story of my life.

Everyone's a writer,
Everything's a writer.
The sky tells a tale with its rich and breathtaking hues
And a bridge offers a short story with its astounding views
and when we write, we write all the things we can't say out loud,
we whisper them into existence
with the pen as our instrument
and when the words ooze onto the page
they scream our pain
they cry our frustrations
they accompany us down memory lane
They stare back at us
Look us dead in the eye, as if to say,
Yes, I'm what you just scrawled and scribbled
and yes with me you can tweak and twiddle
But I'm here.
Back into the pen I cannot be sucked.
I am words. I am your words.
And when we close the book,
or scrunch up the piece of paper
or tuck it somewhere never to be discovered,
we feel relief because we've got something off our chest
whether good or bad, ground-breaking or insignificant
when the pen gets put down, something is different.
Everyone's a writer, we write to get by.

Corr Blimey

I've been such a drama queen, my goodness.

Anyway, I'm okay now. Yesterday I think I was just dwelling too much, and cos I wasn't doing anything else exceptt think about everything, it all got a bit overwhelming.

Church today - great.

God told me that He loved me. Totally needed to hear that.
There was also talk about the fruits of the spirit.
Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness and Self-Control.
Nine very important things.
Love is the most important. But it's not worldly love - the kind of love that you feel because of what someone has done for you, you love them because they're good to you, because they love you, because they deserve your love.
Unconditional love is the one that I must pursue. A love that does not depend on anything, you just love without any apparent reason. You love to love.
That's the way God loves us. If you've got that kinda love, then all the other stuff will follow.
I've got to start cultivating my fruits.
And stop being so moody ha :)
I've been on a rollercoaster, but the ride has ended now. I'm off, I've collected my hideous, embarrassing photo and will store it in a drawer somewhere, not to be forgotten, but not to be in plain sight as a constant reminder. I'm leaving the theme park now, just gonna go for a stroll down the road.

'I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy,
Down in my heart (where?),
Down in my heart (where?),
Down in my heart.
I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy,
Down in my heart (where?),
Down in my heart to stay' :)

Sighh

So, everything I wrote in that last post was kind of everything I felt I should say.
The truth is: I feel like crap.
Don't wanna do anything, no motivation.
I wish I could sleep my whole life away.
Feeling like this sucks. Sucks major wangg.

I'm sure this will pass but right now. Errgghh.
I mean, it would help if only one thing went wrong but it was a succession of events.
Three to be precise. See, I told you three wasn't a magic number, loser :)

God, help me get outta this funk. Amen.

Wow

By most standards my week has been pretty crap. That itself might even be an understatement.
I'm not even gonna go into the details of the drama, but I brought it all upon myself which I guess makes it slightly better, but not really.
It's like my brain just hasn't been turned on for like the last couple of weeks. Maybe I've been distracted or maybe I just need a break.
I'm seriously considering making the move to a hippy commune in some far away place, changing my name and never coming back.
But I mean, that's just unrealistic so instead I am gonna smile and laugh and be grateful for the things I have.
It has been a rough week but in the grand scheme of things I'm being pretty melodramatic. I actually have nothing to complain about it. Or to worry about - Matthew 6:23. There is food in my fridge, I have clothes to wear, I have money and even if I didn't, I have parents that can provide for me. I am getting a good education, I have a clean water supply, I live in a country where I'm allowed to express myself and I am not oppressed by leaders in whom I meant to trust. I am a young, black woman and on Thursday, I voted. Now that's big. And on top of all that I have a God who loves me so much, I can't even begin to write about Him and His general greatness. I have a fly family and some superfly friends. I am writing this blog from the comfort of my bed on some hitech gadget and my fingers are flying across the screen with ease, my foot is tapping to the beat of my music... I could go on. But yeah, just trying to say that I have so much to be grateful for that the suckish things that happen just seem kinda relevant. I won't completely ignore them though, I'm not like immune to pain and sadness, I'm just trying not to let myself be overcome with those kinda feelings.

I still haven't cried.
I'm not sure when I will.

My notebook is full of poems that have no titles and titles that have no poems.

Another unnamed...

A painting would never deny that it was painted
And a creation should not deny that it was created
But that's what seems to be happening with these evolution theories
Darwin proved that we just came to be
but our first be was ape and over time our backs got straight, we lost a lot of hair and we developed some form of communication
There are still so many things unexplainable
but we choose not to attribute them to a God who's able.
Instead we incessantly deny, deny our creator
But how can you possibly have a painting without a painter?

Heartbreaker, you got the best of me
I am the heartbreaker, I got the best of he
I got the best of we
We were becoming something and I got scared
There was something becoming about him,
perhaps the curl of his hair
It's not fair
Life's not fair
If only I hadn't twiddled my hair or said all those things
or held his arm as we crossed the bridge.
It's all my fault,
I deserve to feel like this
I didn't want it to be this way but life goes on
I must face up to my stupidity and then move on
I am the heartbreaker, I got the best of he
And in heartbreaking I lost a piece of me.

Feelings

Feelings are a funny thing.

I'm feeling really overwhelmed right now.
Kinda grateful. Real grateful in fact.
Loved.
Feeling like a bit of an idiottt.
Super appreciative.
Sorry. In the apologetic sense not the pitiful.
Proper on edge emotionally, like I could cry quite easily I reckon.
Tired.
Drained.
Got a blocked nose which is a little annoying.
Feeling silly.
Relieved.
A bit weak.
Happy but not in the crude meaning of happy. Not sure what the right word is.
And peaceful.

Yeah.
A 'cocktail' of feelings ♥

Snippet

'and they'd stay on the phone for hours not saying a word, just listening to each other breathe.' ♥

I mean...

My last post was April 17th and I was 17.

But noww I am 18. Happy day.

Birthday was really great.
I've got some pretty wonderful friends and a wikicool fam.
Was totally feeling the love.

Haven't really slept that much. So, so tired.

I'm sensing that things are changing. I don't what things, or how or why.
But they definitely are.

Hmm.

There are some key phrases I use all the time that have just GOT to go.
That's fun.
I mean...
What fun.
Pretty great.
Totally.
Definitely.
Wonderful.
That's not cool.

I mean. I say them all the time. Enough is enough.
Some of them are pretty fun. Maybe I'll just try and use them minimally.
Yeah that's what I'll do.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DbaJgSkDVg

This properr makes me laugh.
Really fun film. Maybe that's just cos I totally love Jim Carrey...
Although, I think his time in the movie world is over now? Maybe he could adopt a new role?

Sweet.

And I wrote our names in the sand so that our secret was kept safe,
between you and me and the sea ♥

They're so grown up.
I feel like a silly little girl.

A Photo Of Me Taken Recently

I don't really think that's necessary.
So let's move on to...

Whatever tickles me fancy.

Hmm.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lhysr_aFaD0&feature=fvw

So, so yum.

A Photo Of Me Taken Over Ten Years Ago

So that's any photo of me aged 7 and underr...

Yeahboi :)

A Photo That Makes Me Angry/Sad

This picture makes me sad for a couple of reasons.

It's a picture of my uncle. My mum's little brother.

I guess it makes me sad cos it reminds me of my childhood which is long gone.

He used to live with us and we were real close.

But then there were immigration visa complications and he had to go back to Malaysia.

I was so so upset, and it sucked maajorr wang, cos there are some idiot wasteman illegal immigrants in this country living off benefits and doing stupidnesss meanwhile, my uncle was here contributing to society, he was a solicitor, had bought a house and all that.

But yeah whateverr...

Also since my amachi died, he's like broken.

It's so rubbishh. But he's a trouper, and he still never fails to make me laugh with his wisecracks when we talk on the phone.

He's wicked.

A Photo I Took

I was pretty impressed with this.

Bar the lame loungers bottom left ahahaha.

It probably took me like a million takes though.

I'm a crap photographer as Alex and my sister never fail to tell me (L)

A Photo That Makes Me Happy...

This day was grreaatt.
ThreeKingSinging. Miso's. PETeacherPhotoShoot. General hilarity.
These girls are so the stuff <3

Whatever Tickles My Fancy?

Re-discovered this kid today. He is so great.
I can't even believe he's real. Ahahaa.

Upload is longgg.
Have a link :)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ErMWX--UJZ4

Also...

http://www.soundclick.com/bands/default.cfm?bandID=822775&content=music

just so you know how cool and talented one of my friends is :)


Alvin's in Espagna. And Emm is off to Germany in the morning. (she's got to get up at 4. ha)
Deffo missing them.

My Favourite Quote

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.

- 2 Corinthians 5:17

A lot of others. But at the moment, this one is the solo flyer.

My Favourite Book

The B-I-B-L-E. That's the book for me. I stand alone on The Word of God. The B-I-B-L-E. :)

Quality stuff right there I tell you.
It's pretty much in a different league to all other books.
God wrote this one. It's fiyaahh.

Run, Baby, Run.

Gangs. Hatred. Violence. Sex. --> God. Love. Redemption. New Life.
The story of Nicky Cruz told so eloquently. Set in New York in the 50s. Sick language. It's compelling.

A Sunday At The Pool In Kigali.

This book made me cry. Cry like I was ripping off a whole row of plasters that had been on for a year from my arm.
I don't remember exactly its perspective or the storyline really.
All I remember is that it was set in Rwanda. And basically just told of all the horrors of the genocide and events surrounding it, much like Hotel Rwanda. Juxtaposed with a love story I think. (I'm gonna check) The thing that stuck with me most from the book was the recurrent descriptions of helpless women being raped and innocents being hacked to death. So horrible and so moving.

My Favourite Television Programme

GREY'S ANATOMY.

Hello high-intensity medical drama sprinkled with scandalous sexual shenanigans; heart-wrenching stories; a deep moral lesson or fact of life shared so eloquently by the protagonist with a classic voice-over and review of each character's situation; a genius, non-cheesy script; some gorgeous actors and a whole load of blood and guts every now and then. LAVEITT.

The classic Friends.

Although I know what happens in every episode, it never fails to amuse me. Never.
That's the sign of a good comedy. Timeless.

Desperate Housewives.

I'm not even a proper like devotee. I just love love the way it's done. The structure of each episode. How cleverly everything is linked together. Again, there's a great voice-over. It is just such an enjoyable watch. Wonderful.

My Favourite Movie

I'm gonna go right out there and say it...

Sister Act 2.

I just can't get enough.
Could be because of my love for Lauryn Hill and her insaaaanely gorgeous voice.
Why did she not come up in any of my favourite songs. Uhoh. Definitely contemplated her though :(
It's also really just a great film. Great storyline. Well written.
Just genius. Fun for the whole family. Yeah.

Mulan is also a definite fave. I like the whole tough girl fighter chick. I think Mulan is reeally cool. And also Shang is a hottieee.

She's The Man. Hahahahaha. Such a jokes movie. Amanda Bynes is a funny lady. Wicked storyline too. And I LOVE Channing Tatum.

There are others. Many others. But I will stop there.

My Favourite Song

I think this is the hardest thing one could possibly ask me.

Maybe I could do some sort of categorical answer?

Favourite song to sing: Bow Down and Worship Him

Favourite song to listen to and not sing along to: ... Monti - Czardas ;)

Favourite song to listen to and run all over: Jesus, Lover of my soul and Yahweh or Higher - Mali Music

Favourite song to play: You Don't Know My Name - Alicia Keys and Breathless - Corrine Bailey Rae

Favourite song to get my freak on to: Hey Goldmember - B, Austin Powers OST and

Favourite song to bop my head to in a vehicle: Roxanne - Sting & The Police and Amerie - Take Control

I could go on. But I think I'll stop there :)
And there's totally like a gazillion other songs that I haven't been able to think of right now.
I wish I had just one favourite song, that ticked every box. It would make life so muchh easier...
There's got to be one.
I'll find out what it is, in due course.

Hiyaaa

Cannot believe this blog hasn't seen html coding in over a month.
Sad times.
Month of March, I hope you don't feel upset that you didn't make it. I'm sorry.

It was a good month though.
A real good month.

- I passed my grade 8 piano exam. Definitely did not think I would - Jesus is Lord.
- Did the music festival at school. Fun. Two time ensemble class winners baby. Six <3
- My driving instructor declared his love/lust for me. He's 55. My feminist friends were outraged. As was my father :/ I now have a new instructor. His name is Scott.
- I went clothes shopping for the first time this year, I kid you not. I'm quite possibly the worst shopper in existence. Indecisive should be my middle name.
- I loved certain people more and more as the minutes of March marched on.
- A2 Drama Practical: stressful times. All paid off I think. Love for my drama buds grew. Acting is a funny thing. What are we trying to do by pretending to be someone that we're not.
- I did some things I wasn't proud of. That's definitely not unique to March.
- I learned a lot of things. And ditto.
- Did some writing. Not as much as I would have hoped.
- Got the first paycheque of the new job. New job which I'm totally loving.
- Went to the cinema for £3.95! I love Empire Cinemas. (The film was not the one however)
- Caught up with an old friend.

Yeah. That's pretty much it I think.
Something else will come to me later.

ANYWAY.
Stole this from tumblr.com, but I don't think they'll mind.
I just felt I should blog, but was at a loss of what to say.
So I thought I could do this...

But instead of days, I think I'll just do as many as I can before my bed hollas.

Day 01 — Your favorite song
Day 02 — Your favorite movie
Day 03 — Your favorite television program
Day 04 — Your favorite book
Day 05 — Your favorite quote
Day 06 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 07 — A photo that makes you happy
Day 08 — A photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 09 — A photo you took
Day 10 — A photo of you taken over ten years ago
Day 11 — A photo of you taken recently
Day 12 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 13 — A fictional book
Day 14 — A non-fictional book
Day 15 — A fanfic
Day 16 — A song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 — An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
Day 18 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 19 — A talent of yours
Day 20 — A hobby of yours
Day 21 — A recipe
Day 22 — A website
Day 23 — A YouTube video
Day 24 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 25 — Your day, in great detail
Day 26 — Your week, in great detail
Day 27 — This month, in great detail
Day 28 — This year, in great detail
Day 29 — Hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 — Whatever tickles your fancy

Facelift?

I need to change my default facial expression.
Far too many times I have heard, 'wow, you look like you wanna beat someone up' or 'oh look at your face, you're so moody'. I find it slightly amusing though a bit hurtful. Hmm. Maybe my face is a bit hurtful.
I'm rarely in a huff when a comment is made about my facial expression; I'm usually feeling joyous on the inside. Sometimes I'm just overrlyyythinking about things in life. That could be the cause.
I often acknowledge that my face is screwed up and try to change it, but sometimes I'm just not aware.
Maybe this is petty.
I dunno.
Seems to be a big issue for some people.
I think it makes me look kinda stush/arrogant/uppity. Though I'm really not. I like to think I'm quite down to earth. Perhaps not.

Well whatever. I'm working on it. But I know what's in my mind init so boy.

I think sometimes the things that I do/don't do because of my Christianity are perceived as stush or uppity. And maybe some people think that I think I'm better because of it. Well I don't.

This is what I think.

I'm A Christian

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin'."
I'm whispering "I was lost,
Now I'm found and forgiven.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I don't speak of this with pride.
I'm confessing that I stumble
and need Christ to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not trying to be strong.
I'm professing that I'm weak
And need His strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not bragging of success.
I'm admitting I have failed
And need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not claiming to be perfect,
My flaws are far too visible
But, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I still feel the sting of pain.
I have my share of heartaches
So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"
I'm not holier than thou,
I'm just a simple sinner
Who received God's good grace, somehow!

Maya Angelou

Thank you! Words of this poem are so on point.
When I grow up, I wanna be like Ms Angelou.

FROG

I've come to realise that I can't rely on anyone but God. People are flaky for real.
I think I always knew this, and I've been told it's true by many a-person.
But I like to see the good in people, and I always give everyone the benefit of the doubt. So I've kinda been lying to myself all this time. Making excuses for people and trying hard not to show that they've hurt me.

This post is no way an indirect to anyone. I've just come to a point, where I can see that relying on people - friends and even family isn't gonna get me anywhereee. I don't want people to rely on me either. No matter how reliable I think I am and how reliable I may have proved myself to be up until now, just by being a human, I have imperfections therefore, I'm unreliable too. If someone asks me to do something, no matter how much I wanna do it, and how good my intentions are, there's no guarantee that I'll do it.

Only God has that one on lock. Garshh He's so sick. I wanna tell everybody how heavy He is. But it seems like no-one wants to know. I feel like I have the cure for cancer or sutum, but no-one has clocked on. One day, everyone will be on their knees worshipping Him cos He's so that guy. They won't even know what's hit them. Mmm.

FROG - Fully Rely On God

That's what I'm gonna do :)

V-Day Poetry (wrote this like half a year ago, unfinished, untweaked)

Life without love
Is like a guitar without strings
A piano without keys
It can't function, you see
Love is a word
It's a noun
It's a verb
Love is Him taking me as I am
And knowing how to understand
And loving me

Unconditionally
Undeservedly
Uninhibitedly
Totally and completely captivated by me

The number of hairs on my head
Of which He knows the exact number
As well as the tears that fall from my eyes
Before I drift into slumber
My worst times, my best times
My sad times, my happy times
My simply "don't talk to me or I'll bomb you in your jaw" times
The times when I clock
That He's there for me all the time
The one who loves me

Unconditionally
Undeservedly
Uninhibitedly
Totally and completely captivated by me

He knows my ins, my outs
My ups, my downs
My gentlest whisper and my loudest short
Under His shadow He protects me
And nothing can separate me from the love that He has for me
Not death, nor life
Nor angels, no ruling spirits,
Nothing now, nothing in the future,
No powers,
Nothing above us, nothing below us,
Nor anything else in the whole world
Can separate me from the love that He has for me

Unconditionally
Undeservedly
Uninhibitedly
Totally and completely captivated by me
And I by Him
I hold my breath
And wait for this life to pass me by
Until that moment when in the twinkling of an eye
I'll rise up to the sky... ♥

10 Days Into February (Delayed Post)

I have been such a busy bee these past few days it's insane.

For a while I was past the state of exhaustion, it was straight delirium ha.

18th birthday celebrations have been order of the day. Spent a weekend in Madrid with my wonderful girlies. It seems that I just have bad luck when it comes to travelling. Went to Rome last May(?) and on the last night after a really fabulous holiday, our hire car was broken into by gypsies (who I previously thought were supercool, perhaps I still do) and they took ALL our travel documents which my dad left in like a briefcase kinda wallet type thing under the seat! and it was dark. So the only way they would've known was that they were watching us and probably thought there was money in there :/ OH the drama it caused. My dad was so devastated cos he always carries everythingg around with him everywhere, we often tease him for it, and the one time he leaves it...Ho hum.

Then travelled to Malaysia in December. 60 hours in transit! 60 hours, I hear you cry. Yes! 60 hours, me and my sister. Most of those hours spent stranded in Amsterdam on account of the heavy snowfall. Oh it was a traumatic experience. 6 of those 60 hours were spent in a queue waiting to be put on a flight. We had no euros. We had no laptop or credit to call from Europe. Oh man. It was not cool. But thank God we got to Malaysia in time for Christmas.

And then Madrid. I get pickpocketed when we are travelling to the hotel from the airport via metro. Lost money, cards and new purse :( OH dear. These things happen. My sister sent me a really lovely text to cheer me up though. And I was grateful that we weren't taken advantage of more as tourists. You hear so many stories of rapes and kidnappings and murders, and we can't believe these things happen, but they do. Often. I am so thankful it's never happened to me. Well the latter clearly hasn't. Ha.

I've come to realise some things over these past few days that aren't really too fun however.
I've realised that I really am in this world and not of it. Which is a beautiful thing. But is also quite difficult in daily life. Especially in my life because of what I'm surrounded by.
I've succumbed to a few things that I shouldn't have this year.
I feel like I should stop trying to do what I've been trying to do because it's in vain. I'm a horrible person right now. Everything I've wanted not to be.

Some people need to be cut off. It's gonna be the hardest thing I think I will have ever had to do in my life thus far :(

My head is a mess right now.

Why does being bad always to have to feel so good?

Being A Minority

is not really that much fun.

I feel like I'm always the odd one out.

Oh

It's February.
I didn't even clock.
What fun.

9 days til Alvin's 18 :)
5 days til Madridd.

PS. After my last post, I have Wayne Wonder's 'No Letting Go' stuck in my head. Big smh.

Letting Go.

I'm really bad at letting go.

My inbox on my phone only lets me have like 360 messages! Lame. And so I keep having to delete like one at a time. Everytime I attempt to have a clearout, I can't bring myself to get rid of messages that really should be long gone. They're still there because they just make me smile. Or I think they are important for some reason or another.

3 years ago now, I had this thing with this boy. He told me that he loved me in various different very sweet ways over a number of texts. Me and this boy hardly talk now, he pretty much boyed me off after that we had that thing, and I now know that (although he said to me he was shy and didn't really know how to talk to girls) he's the biggest womanizer on the block. Kmt.
Yet I still have the messages and choose not to delete them when my inbox is full and important messages need to come through. Why? Because I can't let go. What a loser.

Most of my messages are funny sweet ones from a select few people. Or things that just need to be remembered. Maybe I could write them down, but that seems a bit weird.

It's not only texts that I save. I used to save aalll my msn conversations - FB chat has failed me in that sense. If I'm tidying up room and I find something from the past, I won't throw it away. Even if it was something that once made me cry. I dunno, I just think it's important to keep them.

I wish I could save all the conversations I had in real life as well, phone or face to face. If someone could just film my whole life, that would be great.

I don't think it's a bad thing to hold on to parts of your past.
As long as you don't allow those things to hinder your future.

Mrs Mandela

Woah, just finished watching a "fact-based drama" about Mrs Winnie Mandela.
She was so sick.

Strength in the face of adversity. She's admirable.
But then she went on a bit of a mad one at the end. I guess the oppression can drive one crazy.

I don't like to imagine it, but if I often wonder what I'd be like if I lived in South Africa when apartheid was at its peak. I like to think I'd be at the forefront of the resistance. I like to think I'd be like Mrs Mandela. She just waltzed into the liquor store for whites only, casually bought some alcohol; she shouted at the police, shoved them when they were holding rifles ready to shoot; met with fellow activists even when it was illegal. Mmm. But you just can't tell. It angers me so much to think that a group of people could ever think that they have the right to do what they did to the natives of SA though. Erghh, it's actually disgusting. Nonsense. Nonsense and rubbish.

Eesh, I'm so grateful that I do not live in conditions anywhere close to SA's apartheid or segregation in America. Though, the things that arose from it - strength of a people, beautiful music, inspiring literature - are things that are so wonderful because of the struggles.
I sometimes think that I don't have the right to write my kind of poetry. When I write about racism, and minding the gap. Cos I don't know the half of it. I'm so lucky.

I'm a black woman. I can vote (in April), I can go to school - a good school, I can get treated in a hospital, I don't have to settle for crappy cleaning jobs my whole life, I have freedom of speech, I can marry a white man and I could probably be prime minister if I really wanted to :)

70 years back, I probably wouldn't even be able to write this blog.
If not for revolutionaries like Mrs Mandela, Rosa Parks, Maya Angelou (the list goes on), I might not be the person I am today.

I want to be a revolutionary. I want to make a difference. Open doors that are closed to people like me...though thankfully there aren't many, maybe there aren't any.

Hmm. La vie est belle.

Mother Edwards

Today in English, Mother Edwards threw out a really great idea.

We were discussing Shakespeare's Othello, the fact that a contemporary audience would've been on the same wavelength as Brabantio who didn't like the idea of his beautiful daughter Desdemona eloping with The Moor. At the time, foreigners in England, who were not few or far between, were seen as exotic, intriguing and were not in general treated badly. But the thought of a foreigner mixing with an English person - cross-breeding in effect - was something that they were not at all keen on, because there was the whole notion of being pure in one's breeding etc. I don't think white supremacy was in the fore of their minds, but I imagine it was lingering in the background somewhere.

Anyway.

She said that we, the audience of today, can actually still relate to Brabantio. We've moved passed the days, the majority of us, of being afraid of miscegenation because the idea of 'cross-contamination' doesn't make sense anymore. For a lot of people, Mother Edwards and Mando's ma included, caramel-coloured babies are quite appealing. Ha.
Yeah, so she said we can relate because, though it's not a colour thing, there's is still the fear, or slight apprehension, towards other cultures.
I concur.
Her example was if one of her sons was to marry a Muslim woman who wore a burka, she'd be fine with it, but the worry would be the extreme differences between the two cultures.
Like all the different holidays and festivals. The culture of a distant country in which she's been brought up, that dictates the way a child is raised.

The morals and life values that we have are so heavily influenced by our cultural upbringing. It's mental. In Europe, if you beat your kid today, it's frowned upon. In Africa, if you don't beat your kid, it's frowned upon. In Europe, the 'respect your elders' thing is rapidly fading, maybe it's even faded. In Africa, it's essential that you greet your elders whenever you see them with a head nod/bow, and it's the young ones that do all the work. I could go on for days. This kinda stuff bloody fascinates me.

You know what though, written down, this doesn't really seem that interesting or groundbreaking.
But in the lesson, I was like Mmm yeah. That is so true. Wow.

Neverrminndd.

Currently Watching: Corrina, Corrina.

I love it; such a dope film. Shame it's not very well known.
It's set in 1950s America (hardd soundtrack).

This great black lady named Corrina is hired as maid for a man and his daughter. The wife/mother died not too long ago, and the girl hasn't spoken since. Basically, the little girl has such fun with the maid, starts talking again. The dad who was depressed since his wife died, finds joy again in Corrina, who also shares his love of music. (Music is quite prominent in the film. Bare singing) And they fall in love. All this is set on the backdrop of a society where black people and white people didn't do that sort of thing. It is wonderful.

Je veux...

There are so many things that I want, and want to do.
Too many things in fact.
I don't think I'll ever get or achieve them all, which is pretty not cool.
If I really want to...I reckon I'd have to live for about 200 years, and old age would only be able to hit me when I'm about 130. Mmm.

For some reason though, that doesn't really appeal to me :/
I'm looking forward to growing old.
Maybe I'm even looking foward to dying. Maybe.

What I want most right now, however, is this...


Ah, the good old days. I'd like to be a bubba again. Just for one day.

Babies have the best time ever. All the cuchicoos in nursery just chill in their fun baby chairs, or sit on pillows and play with musical, colourful toys, or eat yummy baby food, or get carried around by me or others.

Jeez. It's alright for some init.

Je veux remonter le temps.

Givers and Takers.

In life, there are givers and takers.

Sometimes, actually very rarely, let's try twice in a green moon, twice in a green moon, I feel like I'm the only giver in my world. I feel like everyone is just taking from me. No-one's giving me anything back.
Giving doesn't make me angry, quite the opposite. But then I get angry at myself for being such a cheerful giver. Which I shouldn't be. Shouldn't be angry that is. Mmm.
Doesn't matter anyway, cos this feeling passes like that. And then doesn't rear its ugly head for a while.
I'm so grateful for the people in my life that are givers; I think they're beautiful.
I'm also grateful for the takers though. Not quite sure what about them I'm grateful for, but it's something.
I think I should take note from takers. You gotta have the balance, but for some reason, I don't like it when I realise I'm taking.

I do wish someone would buy me food that they knew I loved and stuff it in my pidgeon hole.
Or that someone would just drop me an unprompted text counting the ways in which they loved me. Or just telling me that they did.
Or that someone would swing by my house just to see how I was doing with some work that was proving to be pretty tricky.
Or that someone would write me a song.
Or just buy me something because they remembered that I needed it.

Now making that list I feel like a terrible ingrate. Because people do wonderful things for me all the time, and I honestly do appreciate them. But maybe I'm blinded by my own constant desire to do things for other people. Or I can't see anything cos I'm too high up on my bloody pedestal of "being a giver in life". That is so rubbish, I don't wanna be.

Uggh, I hate these harsh realisations.

Be more appreciative, Sazza, more appreciative.

Perspective.

I'm watching an episode of Spongebob (it is quality entertainment) where he and Patrick think they're going on a boat, which is like some sort of scout summer camp, when in fact it's a prison ship.
The chief prison guard dude is properr strict and punishes the two of them brutally cos they're (unknowingly) being cheeky to him.
But they just make the most of each punishment inflicted upon them and are enjoying every minute, seeing each thing as a new challenge that they have to overcome and they do.

It just made me think how powerful one's perspective is, or one's attitude to any kind of situation.
The fact that Sponge and Pat thought that they were on a trip which was made for their merriment, made it a merry trip. Maybe I'm reading into it way too much. But it makes sense to me. Haa.
If we look at each situation as something positive, made not to bring us down but to make us stronger. Then there won't be anything to complain about? Yeah. Tidy.

For Alvin.

Sometimes the rain pours and pours

And you think that it won’t stop

That it will cause a flood

And you’ll literally drown in your sorrows

You don’t remember the sunshine

Feeling like you can’t face anymore tomorrows.

The days are rough

Trying to focus your mind on other things

seems like a purposeful disregard

but you’re just trying to stop yourself

from letting it sink in

trying to stop yourself from sinking into

the small river formed by your tears

cos the moment it sinks in

that’s the moment it becomes reality

a reality where sanity is insanity

and what seems to be right is wrong

and the pain lasts for too long.

But I tell you this, beautiful,

The rains must fall

The storms must rage

It’s not your fault

And soon the pain

Will fade away

The same way a windscreen wiper

Gets rid of the rain

You are strong, and the sun soon shine

Keep your head up, oh pretty friend of mine <3

Hmm.

So, I was watching the news and Riz Latif (news reporter) tells me that the man imprisoned for the death of Baby P has been jailed for life for RAPING A 2 YEAR OLD GIRL. Yeah, that shocked me to my core too. Disgusting. How can someone even thinkk of doing that?! Insanity.
Anyway, naturally, me and mums were like "yeahh, damn straight he's in for lifee, crazy hideous mann, you suck etc. etc."

But then. I stopped to think what actually going to prison means.
In Africa, when you commit a crime, you get beats by the police before you go in; you're going into a bare stone floored cell, with one sad looking mattress in the corner, a bucket in the other and no windows.
In Asian and South-American countries, you're looking at pretty much the same conditions. The corrupt and excessively violent policemen are not really the one. But the lack of facilities and hard to live in conditions, are to me what punishment should constitute.

Wikipedia tells me that 'A prison is a place in which people are physically confined and, usually, deprived of a range of personal freedoms.'
and that 'Punishment is the practice of imposing something unpleasant or aversive on a person or animal or property, usually in response to disobedience, defiance, or behavior deemed morally wrong by individual, governmental, or religious principles.'

Wonderful. I think the countries mentioned above conform to these definitions or prison and punishment.
Someone please tell me why then, that in the United Kingdom, that stuuupid man who forcibly sexed a babygirl is going into a prison where he will sleep on a comfortable bed, with a tv in his room (I don't have a TV in my room :|), have access to gym facilities, play on a Wii, get some qualifications and the list goes on..

Now I'm all for giving people a second chance, But I dunno, to me this doesn't seem quite right. Maybe it's just me?

When one is punished in life, be it by parents or teachers, it's something unpleasant, we don't want to be punished and after we've been punished once, we try hard not to get punished again. Or maybe again, it's just me? I know there's a stigma with being an ex-convict an everything, but real talks, prison doesn't seem that bad. Perhaps I'm being really ignorant and even though they have all these opportunities, prison is probably still be swag. I dunno. I'll ask.

I understand that getting the prisoners educated will help them when they come out to get work or do further education and stop them re-offending, but the real world is harrdd, to my mind, they're probably thinking that they have a better life inside pen than outside where it's hard to get work, it's hard to pay for a mortgage etc., and they'll do what is necessary to get back.

Perhaps as a society, we need to have more tolerance for ex-convicts. Giving them more support when they've done their time. It's difficult to know if someone's learned their lesson though. 'Once cheater, always cheater.' That means to say 'Once a criminal, always a criminal.'? Though I don't agree with the former statement anyway.

Oh goshh, this is such a predicament. Maybe people just shouldn't commit crime? Ha. Well that's not gonna happen.

There's a part of me that kinda wants to commit a crime. Only like shoplifting, or making off without payment (Section 3 1978 Theft Act) That is so cheeky though.
What is wrong with me? Just momentary lapses init :)