I don't even know where to start from. I usually don't rant on my blog, but right now I just feel like doing that.
I'm tired of everything! I'm tired of being on this roller coaster. I'm tired of oscillating between two extremes every two weeks. I'm tired of putting so much in, and getting so little out. My life has changed dramatically in the last few months, and during times like this I begin to wonder if its worth it. Of course, I know its worth it in the end, but I'm tired of the process with which its happening.
The most annoying thing is that I know I love what I'm doing, but....there's a but. I enjoy it, I'm interested in it, I think its fun but...
For some reason, my heart is pounding, its like a feeling of dread? anxiety? or even fear? I don't know why I put myself through this...
I seriously wish I could undo a lot of things, but I can't. I wish I could forget about a lot of things, but I don't think its possible.
Maybe its because I haven't had a 'proper' sleep in days.
My body is tired
my spirit is down
my soul is ...weak
Monday, February 25, 2008
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Then....Now
they told me all those bullcrap, they told us all as kids. Don't get me wrong, these were serious words of wisdom that have helped shaped my character. One of which I remember:
Always Pick the one in front of you
I'm guessing the morale had something to do with greed or something like that. So when I was younger, going to parties (in our auntie-gimme-cake-I'm-dancing-well dresses) were the rave, and the highlight of the parties was always dance, food, cake and gift bag -not in that particular order. I always looked forward to the cake part, and the way they usually did it was an "aunty" would come by with a tray and you had to pick one. I always picked the one in front of me, just like my mama taught me BUT it was always the smallest piece! or the one with the least icing!! It happened all the time. Then I said to myself, when I grow old (and have money), I would buy a whole cake, put it between my legs, and eat the whole thing!
I never got the chance to do it. I can afford to buy a whole cake, put it between my legs and eat the whole thing BUT now I can't stand more than a slice of cake- or two.
I don't remember eating a lot of plantain as a child. I remember it was a luxury back then. Infact, we used to be excited whenever my mom bought plantain home. We asked her one time why we didn't eat it more often and she said it was because of me! Apparently whenever she made beans and plantain, dear young bumight would pick all the plantain on top and say she's full! So my mom got mad and refused to feed us plantain more often. At one point, I said to mysel, when I grow old (and have money), I would buy a bunch of plantain, fry it, and make a whole meal out of it!
Now: I can't stand that much plantain. After about 5 pieces, I'm done.
Speaking of beans, At some point we used to eat beans every afternoon-as in monday to friday! My mom (who usually cooked in bulk) would make a whole bunch of beans to last the week and put it in the freezer. Every morning before we went to school, she'd bring it out to thaw and that woudl be our lunch. I promised myself that once I made it out of their house, I'm not eating beans ever in my life again!
Now: I cook beans every so often. Infact, I just finished my ewa agoyin (you know the way those women make it?). Beans is one of the few naija foods I still enjoy eating!
Still on this beans issue, Just the way we ate beans every afternoon, we had these neighbors that ate indomie noodles every afternoon. As in, every morning before they went to school, their mom would bring out two packs of noodles for the both of them to eat for lunch. How I so envied them. I would trade my beans for their noodles in a heartbeat! Yet again, I said to myself, when I grow old, I would eat noodles like its going off the market.
Now: I eat noodles, but not like its going off the market. I don't see the biggie in it anymore.
Another food that I ABSOLUTELY hated as a child is Amala. Our relationship has been sour for as long as I remember. My dad told me that he caught me telling my sister when I was very young: "oooo mummy is making that black horrible food again!" Needless to say, he was shocked, I don't remember the incident. All I remember is, we always had to stay in the kitchen with my mom whenever she was making dinner.
Usually she would start by putting water in a pot.
1. If it was rice, she'd wait a few minutes, then wash the rice in. yay!
2. If it was one of the swallowables, she'd wait and wait and wait and wait....
i) if it was Amala, she'd bring out the blue bucket that had the yam flower in it.
Everytime she put water on, I'd be secretly hoping she doesn't wait too long before returning to the kitchen to wash the rice in. I used to be forced to eat amala back then. She would collect my meat and water (the cane was always nearby) till I finished my food. I DETERMINED that I wouldn't eat amala once I got out of their house.
Now: I don't eat that black horrible food, yay! - that is until I went home last december. My mom conned me into eating it: "its not that black, and its very soft. the efo is rich....yada yada". I ate it just to console her, lol! At a stage, I was full, but I was still forcing myself to eat it. Then it just hit me: I'm grown, she can't beat me or force me to eat anymore jo!
I'm still not willingly doing that ish sha.
I used to jump up and down and be visibly excited to eat rice. Whenever my mom went on night duty (she's a nurse and usually does about 4 in a row), we'd eat rice for dinner the entire time she was gone. She usually had days off following every night shift stretch, so on her days off, she would make sure we didn't eat rice those 4 days. I used to fantasize about eating rice EVERYDAY once I started living on my own.
Now: I can't stand white rice! It tastes like wood shavings! I still love jollof-rice and fried rice though.
PS: Thanks to everyone that suggested names for my car. I must admit some of the suggestions were hilarious! I have decided to call her Aduke; AK for short. Aduke means Beloved.
Always Pick the one in front of you
I'm guessing the morale had something to do with greed or something like that. So when I was younger, going to parties (in our auntie-gimme-cake-I'm-dancing-well dresses) were the rave, and the highlight of the parties was always dance, food, cake and gift bag -not in that particular order. I always looked forward to the cake part, and the way they usually did it was an "aunty" would come by with a tray and you had to pick one. I always picked the one in front of me, just like my mama taught me BUT it was always the smallest piece! or the one with the least icing!! It happened all the time. Then I said to myself, when I grow old (and have money), I would buy a whole cake, put it between my legs, and eat the whole thing!
I never got the chance to do it. I can afford to buy a whole cake, put it between my legs and eat the whole thing BUT now I can't stand more than a slice of cake- or two.
I don't remember eating a lot of plantain as a child. I remember it was a luxury back then. Infact, we used to be excited whenever my mom bought plantain home. We asked her one time why we didn't eat it more often and she said it was because of me! Apparently whenever she made beans and plantain, dear young bumight would pick all the plantain on top and say she's full! So my mom got mad and refused to feed us plantain more often. At one point, I said to mysel, when I grow old (and have money), I would buy a bunch of plantain, fry it, and make a whole meal out of it!
Now: I can't stand that much plantain. After about 5 pieces, I'm done.
Speaking of beans, At some point we used to eat beans every afternoon-as in monday to friday! My mom (who usually cooked in bulk) would make a whole bunch of beans to last the week and put it in the freezer. Every morning before we went to school, she'd bring it out to thaw and that woudl be our lunch. I promised myself that once I made it out of their house, I'm not eating beans ever in my life again!
Now: I cook beans every so often. Infact, I just finished my ewa agoyin (you know the way those women make it?). Beans is one of the few naija foods I still enjoy eating!
Still on this beans issue, Just the way we ate beans every afternoon, we had these neighbors that ate indomie noodles every afternoon. As in, every morning before they went to school, their mom would bring out two packs of noodles for the both of them to eat for lunch. How I so envied them. I would trade my beans for their noodles in a heartbeat! Yet again, I said to myself, when I grow old, I would eat noodles like its going off the market.
Now: I eat noodles, but not like its going off the market. I don't see the biggie in it anymore.
Another food that I ABSOLUTELY hated as a child is Amala. Our relationship has been sour for as long as I remember. My dad told me that he caught me telling my sister when I was very young: "oooo mummy is making that black horrible food again!" Needless to say, he was shocked, I don't remember the incident. All I remember is, we always had to stay in the kitchen with my mom whenever she was making dinner.
Usually she would start by putting water in a pot.
1. If it was rice, she'd wait a few minutes, then wash the rice in. yay!
2. If it was one of the swallowables, she'd wait and wait and wait and wait....
i) if it was Amala, she'd bring out the blue bucket that had the yam flower in it.
Everytime she put water on, I'd be secretly hoping she doesn't wait too long before returning to the kitchen to wash the rice in. I used to be forced to eat amala back then. She would collect my meat and water (the cane was always nearby) till I finished my food. I DETERMINED that I wouldn't eat amala once I got out of their house.
Now: I don't eat that black horrible food, yay! - that is until I went home last december. My mom conned me into eating it: "its not that black, and its very soft. the efo is rich....yada yada". I ate it just to console her, lol! At a stage, I was full, but I was still forcing myself to eat it. Then it just hit me: I'm grown, she can't beat me or force me to eat anymore jo!
I'm still not willingly doing that ish sha.
I used to jump up and down and be visibly excited to eat rice. Whenever my mom went on night duty (she's a nurse and usually does about 4 in a row), we'd eat rice for dinner the entire time she was gone. She usually had days off following every night shift stretch, so on her days off, she would make sure we didn't eat rice those 4 days. I used to fantasize about eating rice EVERYDAY once I started living on my own.
Now: I can't stand white rice! It tastes like wood shavings! I still love jollof-rice and fried rice though.
PS: Thanks to everyone that suggested names for my car. I must admit some of the suggestions were hilarious! I have decided to call her Aduke; AK for short. Aduke means Beloved.
Monday, February 11, 2008
What's in a Name?
I remember sitting in class, if I remember clearly it must have been pri 3, I think I was 6 then. There was this popular girl in my class, Doyin, she was also very pretty. I really really wanted her name.
Growing up, I really hated my name. I would sit down and wonder why my parents did not give me any of the really cool names. What could have gone wrong? were all the cool names taken before it was my turn or something?
I think that because I didn't know of any namesakes, that just fuelled my hatred for the name. I couldn't for the life of me come to terms with why my parents decided to do this to me. I looked at all the cute and popular girls in pri school then, and I was sure that their "cute" names added to their appeal.
Why didn't they name me Kunbi? That was the name I wanted for a while. Then I wanted to be called Halima. I wouldn't even have minded Funmi or even Nkechi. Why did it have to be bumight*?
So one day, I mustered enough courage and asked papa bumight for the meaning of my name. He told me the meaning of my name. Then I asked him why he picked that name, and he said God led him to choose that name for me. In my little head, I was wondering why God didn't lead him to choose a cuter name for me.
By the time I got into high school, I was learning to live with my name....finally. I think I got a better appreciation for my name when I started learning my native language at age 11 (story for another blog). By the time I finished high school, I had 2 nameskes in my class alone, and I think that made me realise that my name wasn't that bad afterall.
Now I love love love my name, although sometimes a tiny part of me still wants another name. I even like the funkified version of my name (the way my american friends pronounce it).
I FRIGGING LOVE MY NAME!!!!!!
*not real name
Addendum: So I just bought my car (yay!! no more walking in the cold, no more drive-thru 'toastings', no more of that cat chasing me at night... anyways I digress) and I'm having trouble coming up with a befitting name. Any suggestions?
Growing up, I really hated my name. I would sit down and wonder why my parents did not give me any of the really cool names. What could have gone wrong? were all the cool names taken before it was my turn or something?
I think that because I didn't know of any namesakes, that just fuelled my hatred for the name. I couldn't for the life of me come to terms with why my parents decided to do this to me. I looked at all the cute and popular girls in pri school then, and I was sure that their "cute" names added to their appeal.
Why didn't they name me Kunbi? That was the name I wanted for a while. Then I wanted to be called Halima. I wouldn't even have minded Funmi or even Nkechi. Why did it have to be bumight*?
So one day, I mustered enough courage and asked papa bumight for the meaning of my name. He told me the meaning of my name. Then I asked him why he picked that name, and he said God led him to choose that name for me. In my little head, I was wondering why God didn't lead him to choose a cuter name for me.
By the time I got into high school, I was learning to live with my name....finally. I think I got a better appreciation for my name when I started learning my native language at age 11 (story for another blog). By the time I finished high school, I had 2 nameskes in my class alone, and I think that made me realise that my name wasn't that bad afterall.
Now I love love love my name, although sometimes a tiny part of me still wants another name. I even like the funkified version of my name (the way my american friends pronounce it).
I FRIGGING LOVE MY NAME!!!!!!
*not real name
Addendum: So I just bought my car (yay!! no more walking in the cold, no more drive-thru 'toastings', no more of that cat chasing me at night... anyways I digress) and I'm having trouble coming up with a befitting name. Any suggestions?
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Multiple Choice II
I weighed my options
A. let him fuck me
B. let him finger me
C. let him lick me
A: hell no!
B: isn't that the same thing?
C: why would a guy want to stick his tongue down my u-know-what? disgusting!
I didn't think of the following options
D: knee him in the balls
didn't cross my mind, considering that I'd been kicking and wrestling for the past 10 minutes
E. grab his dick and twist and twist (little miss me)
there's no way I'm touching that ish!
So I just started crying hysterically.
"I thought I told you to stop crying, fine, if you're not going to stop, I'll just continue what i came here to do then"
oh sht! this isn't going as planned
"So u've not had anybody lick you"
"No"
"I promise u'll like it..." *yadi yadi ya, insert some more random bull*
So he spread my legs, and proceeds to stick his tongue down my you-know-what. My legs are shaking seriously (spastic paralysis, lol) almost hitting him in the face. I think he figured out that I was going to pee in his face from fear (lol, sorry for grossing u out).
he stops and says, "you are all sweaty, you need to go and take a shower"
"No, No, I'm fine seriously" So I took the shower (under duress) while he watched. Then I'm finally allowed near my towel. I tell him I want to get dressed, and that he should also get dressed. He says No, we're not getting dressed until I say I've forgiven him.
shuo! it's that easy shey?
A. let him fuck me
B. let him finger me
C. let him lick me
A: hell no!
B: isn't that the same thing?
C: why would a guy want to stick his tongue down my u-know-what? disgusting!
I didn't think of the following options
D: knee him in the balls
didn't cross my mind, considering that I'd been kicking and wrestling for the past 10 minutes
E. grab his dick and twist and twist (little miss me)
there's no way I'm touching that ish!
So I just started crying hysterically.
"I thought I told you to stop crying, fine, if you're not going to stop, I'll just continue what i came here to do then"
oh sht! this isn't going as planned
"So u've not had anybody lick you"
"No"
"I promise u'll like it..." *yadi yadi ya, insert some more random bull*
So he spread my legs, and proceeds to stick his tongue down my you-know-what. My legs are shaking seriously (spastic paralysis, lol) almost hitting him in the face. I think he figured out that I was going to pee in his face from fear (lol, sorry for grossing u out).
he stops and says, "you are all sweaty, you need to go and take a shower"
"No, No, I'm fine seriously" So I took the shower (under duress) while he watched. Then I'm finally allowed near my towel. I tell him I want to get dressed, and that he should also get dressed. He says No, we're not getting dressed until I say I've forgiven him.
shuo! it's that easy shey?
Alright, cool, I've forgiven you. pshew! After like 5 more mins of this drama, I finally get to put on my clothes.
Finally in the security of my clothes, I tell him to start going home, I want to go out. He finally opens the door, and the gate.
why do people do ish like that and expect you to just say "oh, its all fine, I've forgiven you?"
If things had gone any more sour than they did, don't think I would have told anyone, and that bothers me.
The beast (exams) calls, will be MIA for a while... I should have taken flu shots :-(
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