Happy Sunday!

Don't you just love sundays? You can lie in bed all day, listen to music and just have a cozy time....hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm....my dad was the ultimate master of enjoying sundays...when we were kids we'd wake up to his old turn table blasting some high life or another, acara on the table ( hot and steaming) with newly baked bread ("agege" bread).

He'd have bought newpapers, magazines, etc. Ah! What a cosy time we all used to have. We'd be in our pyjamas all day just watching cartoons ( eh, I mean "variety show" on Delta TV) and munching on something or the other. My poor mum woud be slaving away in the kitchen but in a good way, she also liked seeing us in our sunday attires.....cosy time normally ended when "sunday visitors" starting arriving. You know, how families would go visiting after church those days. I have no idea what families in Nigeria do these days but when I was a kid, my father's friends used to come visiting, all their children in tow...

Ah! I wouldn't trade my childhood for the world. My childhood in Warri beats anybody's hands down..hehehehehehee....

Hugs to everybody who enjoys family time...its the best...

Money is...

... a pain in the ass. This "9 to 5" thing is not working for me....its just too much stress. I need to be on a beach somewhere, drinking rum and cola...all this going to work everyday is just not me. I am not built for hard work. Okay, I am built orginally for farm work, but I mean, my body has since adapted to other kinds of physical activities...like lying on the bed with my lap top.

I work way too hard. My mother thinks hardwork is a source of fulfillment...like the puritans did...

In fact, I am not much cut out to do anything other than reading...that's really all I am good at.

This "9 to 5 thing" is just not me.

Happy weekend my darlings, I always loved the beach in this video...I mean, thats me...that beach...that's more like me...(ignore Bobby Brown, just look at the beach).

Disappear

I walk in my gym shoes. There is still snow outside but I dont't know about that anymore. I am not sure if anything is real anymore. It is cold but my jacket is open. I don't feel anything. I walk briskly. The bus is there. The bus driver says something. I guess he wants to know something about my ticket. I mention a stop. He nods. I still don't know what he said. The bus is empty. I sit down. I get off the bus. There are two people hugging on the platform. They hug. I stop to look. Her face is red. She is cold. He keeps holding her. I turn away. There are stones under my shoes. I lean on something. I don't know what it is. A young man stares at me. I hold his stare. He looks away. The train rolls in. I find a seat. Things roll by. Trees, houses, white land. I don't know what things are anymore. I bite my lips.I feel something. Did I draw blood? Was that real? Me biting my lips? I look around me. There are people everywhere. Are they real? Am I real? I get off the train. I am drifting. Drifting. People all around me but I am drifting. I walk faster and faster, can I stop drifting? I do not stop. I am drifting. I pass by more people. I am going to disappear, I think. I am going to disappear, this very minute. I am going to disappear. I walk into a shop. I ask for a chocolate drink. I am real. I can talk. I am real. They do not have chocolate drink. I look around. I buy an ice cream. I am real. I walk out eating my ice cream. My mouth is moving. I am real. I did not disappear. I see her waving at me from a window. I wave back. I am real.

You don't own me...

If I happen to be in a discussion with you, below are a couple of scenarios that might take place...

1. I might listen attentively and will be satisfied just listening to you without offering any opinion of my own.

2. I might decide to tell you what I think which might be in agreement or be in opposition. Or perhaps it might not be either. It might just be something different.

3. I might not listen to you and drift off into fantasy land, however I shall pretend that I am listening, so as to not hurt your feelings.

4. I might not give a fuck at all and will show that I am not interested and will not even bother hiding it.

But above all, my advice to anybody that is in a discussion with me, is to STAND for your opinions. If you think a certain way, then stand for it, no matter what it is. I hate when people try to hide their opinions in other round about ways. It's like giving you gold covered shit. You just scrape the surface a bit, and the shit is right there.

I always stand for what I think, and believe me, 90% of the time, I feel misunderstood. Is it fun to be misunderstood all the time? No. But I still stand for what I think in life. The only responsibiity I have are my own thoughts and opinions. I can not go in another human beings mind and rearrange stuff in there. That's their burden to carry, not mine.

Yes, I might be wrong, I might change my opinion the next minute, I might learn something new, but if at that particular moment, that is what I feel, then that is what I feel. Finito.

I am not going to apologise because I have strong ideas about certain issues in life. That is my own wahala and not anybody else's.

And if anybody is thinking that they can intimidate me into "thinking" a certain way, then you must be out of your God damn mind.

I am SUPER confident about what life is all about. I have my ideas that have been developed over YEARS...so you can imagine. It is in constant development. I "fine tune" it daily....imagine all the work I have put into it. Life for me, is my favourite "thinking topic". I have been "thinking" about it from the moment I knew how to think. Thats really all I do in life. I think about life.

So you see, its impossibe to make me feel bad about the one topic that I have full control over. My thinking process.

All I can suggest, if you do not agree with me, and feel bad about anything I say, is to do like I do.

Do not give a fuck.

C'est la vie.

Forgive me...Can we just be friends instead?

"Forgive me...Can we just be friends instead? I don't think we understand each other and I don't want to fight all the time. Hugs."

And here, was my reply:

"Everything went wrong for many reasons. I was showing off a little, you were in pain and I was hungry. It was as it was. But. I understand. Take care of yourself. I like you anyway. Of course we can be friends. Hugs."

May I just say, that these texts came in the aftermath of the most disastrous date I have been on in my life. It was just a HUGE catastrophy. I wish I could write more on it but I really do not have the heart. I am still processing the hours, minutes, seconds...

P.S: No, it was not guy from Iran. Which reminds me, I am yet to come up with a story. He has already sent me texts wanting to know how my story is coming along...

Moonlight Lady...

Your paint brush, my laughter, your long hair, my dreams, your dreams....

Do you remember that night when I let you cut my hair?

I know you remember...

I see myself in the colours of your paintings...

You have loved me all these years, and I never knew...

Thank you, for keeping me in your heart and art.

It makes me want to cry...

if I thought you'd ever change your mind...

I would bring you flowers in the morning
Wild roses as the sun begins to shine
Sweet perfume in tiny jeweled caskets
If I thought you'd ever change your mind

I would take you where the music's sweetest
And feed you winter fruits and summer wine
Show you things you've only read in story books
If I thought you'd ever change your mind

I would bring you happiness
Wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow bow
I would bring you summer rain and rainbow skies to make your garden grow
And in the winter snow my songs would keep you from the cold

But what use of flowers in the morning
When the garden they should grow in is not mine
And what use is sunshine if I'm crying
And my falling tears are mingled with the wine

I would bring you happiness
Wrapped up in a box and tied with a yellow bow
I would bring you rainbow skies
And summer rain to make your garden grow
And in the winter snow, my songs would keep you from the cold

I would bring you flowers in the morning
Wild roses when the sun begins to shine
Winter fruits and summer wine
Sweet perfume and columbine
If I thought you'd ever change your mind
If I thought you'd ever change your mind

Enough is Enough...

The Nigerian government sucks. I wish I could write more on the matter but I have written so much over the years, that I really have nothing more to write except this: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

If you live in Abuja, make sure you join the March, tmrw, March 16th. If you can not, write something on your blog, like, GIVE US LIGHT! or, GIVE US SECURITY! or, GIVE US WATER!. You know, the usual basic amenities.

Or, you can just write, the Nigerian government sucks. Like I did.

Solomonsydelle will be writing about the March, here.

I did wrong...

I have had a most interesting evening yesterday. Another great story to my collection. My collection of memories. I have to say, I am a master at finding people with stories behind their eyes. I can look into the eyes of people and know immediately what kind of stories they have. Its mostly fantasy of course, truth my friend, is always stranger than fiction. Thats why no matter what kind of stories I conjure up for the faces I see everyday, they are never as fascinating as the real deal. Anyway, enough of my babbling about my "psychic like" abilities. Here is the story.

It was on the train last week. That day that I was preparing for a wedding. I was hungry and decided to eat an apple which I had in my bag. Unfortunately for me, in the silence of the cabin, this apple seemed to be extra crunchy. Anytime I took a bite, the whole cabin seemed to vibrate with the sound of my teeth against apple. I have to say, it was most embarassing. I felt like everybody's eyes were on me and to say the truth, a few heads did turn anytime I took a bite. It was that loud. After about three bites or so (imagine how I suffered to chew as well), I decided to just hold my extra crunchy apple. The guy opposite me, through it all, had been watching me and smiling as well. It seemed like he was wondering if I would actually be brave enough to keep eating my apple. He kept smiling in encouragement but alas, I was not brave enough.

We both got out of the train at the same time and bursted out laughing. The whole scenario was just hilarous. Me, not daring to eat my apple because of the sound. He asked me if I wanted to get coffee. I said I could not, but perhaps another day? I found it fascinating that he was as easy going as I was. I am the only person I know who talks to strangers as if they were long lost friends....

We exchanged numbers. He did phone sometime during the week and we found out that we live quite close to each other, so we decided to have dinner at a nearby restaurant. Yesterday.

By this time already, I had already made my own story about him. But that is no longer important.

It is his story that is now important.

He is from Iran. He fled Iran. He lived for some years in Turkey, then Greece and now he lives here. In the refugee camp in Greece, he fell in love with a woman from Kenya. She was born in Kenya but her parents are from Somalia. It is strange how they communicated. She could speak a bit of turkish having also been in a camp there, but mostly, they used as many languages as they could, to fill in the gaps. Turkish, Persian, English and when they started understanding Greek, Greek. They were together for many years. At the camp, then outside. Finally she moved here and persuaded him to do so as well. She could not live without him. So he moved here. Then they broke up.

He does not have a religion. He detests religions. He was brought up a Muslim in Iran. He hated the propaganda, the whole media/politics thing. He said he never could understand why he could just not "live" his life. Thats all he wanted to do, live his life. When he first left Iran, he still had a bit of Islam in his head, but then he got to Turkey and he hated it even more.

When he moved to Greece and after the refugee camp, he lived in an apartment right opposite a church. He calls that time "the big catastrophy in Greece".

He says that experience even made him even more intolerant with religion. What a mess! he thought.

His biggest passion in life is wrestling. However, he can not dance. He listens to only Persian music. Mostly political songs.

He misses his family. He had a huge family. They were nine kids in all. His brothers are business men and his sisters, all four of them, are house wives. All his brother's wives are house wives too.

They all practice "haram". (All that not drinking alcohol, not eating certain kinds of food, and much more, can't explain, the link is there).

Buying alcohol in Iran is like buying cocaine in the western world. Very hush hush. Although they always had parties and when the police arrived, they just bribed them with money. Corruption goes hand in hand with Islam and haram, he says.

I ask him why he fled Iran. ( I like using this word, "fled", flee away from something). And he answered me with one sentence, "I did wrong".

I inspected him closely. In his eyes, I could see he was not a killer, thief or activist. He seemed more to be a man ruled by passion and a stubborn drive to live, so I made two guesses...

It had to be a woman or family.

He says both. He did wrong to his family, a woman and a woman's family.

He says the story is too long. Three glasses of beer would not do...

I tell him I already know the story in my head.

He asks me if I would write the story I have for him.

I say yes, I would write it for him. He says if I have guessed right, then he would buy me a present.

In my head, I wonder, what more could it be but a case of a man that has run away from marraige? Perhaps "deflowered" a lady, promised to marry her and then decided he could not live that life? Or, perhaps, he married her, fled to Europe, promised he would bring her here but never did?

Anyway, I have until next saturday, to come up with my story. All suggestions are welcome. I want that present.

P.S: We went to a bar afterwards and spent about two hours watching two old drunk women make a fool of themselves on the dancefloor.

I have made a new friend.

Dance Me to the End of Love...

Saturday. Its 11:55. I am listening to this music and thinking of many things. Water under ice, leaves on trees, red cheeks of babies, hot cocoa, my sister, my mother, teddy bears and all my love...where should I put it?

I've done them all....

I have done so much in my young life already,,,,I strongly feel like I am done with certain parts of my life. I mean, there is not much to be done when you have done it all already.

My friend says I am way too "harsh" when I talk like that, but, come on, what use is it to repeat the same patterns?

I dont want to go down roads that I have marched on a thousand times...if there are no more roads, then I rather just let it be.

Even though I have made that "harsh" decision, I am content. Very content with my life and its missing parts.

Happy weekend guys!

You're making more ordinary...

(That line is from the song "rain" by MIKA that I can't get out of my head...)

Yesterday I was talking to someone and I just kept thinking..."this conversation is making feel below ordinary"...I just could not continue with the conversation. It was just not me. I had nothing to "of me" that I could share...

It really disturbed me. I felt like I was wasting my time. I could be sleeping or reading a book.

The person noticed it in the end. He said, "you sound distracted"

and I said "I rather just sleep"

I wanted to say "talking to you makes me feel so fucking ordinary that I want to puke"...

He sounded disappointed. I did not care. I just wanted out from his ordinary conversation.

I hate ordinary.

Things I just have to do today..

Okay, time is 10:20...lets see if I can get all this done by 21:00 tonight...I shall be back in the night to report progress.

1. Wax eyebrows.

2. Do hair.

3. Buy blouse.

4. Paint nails.

I think thats all. I have a wedding tmrw and I look like hell... Okay, wish me luck!by the way, i do not have appointments, lets see if "drop in" really works...hahahahaha if not, I shall be sleeping with rollers on my hair tonight!

Update: Okay, the time is 7:23 and I am finally home. You can not imagine what a day I have had. You just can't. First of all, I get into the bus. Its one of those racist bus drivers that are just mad at everybody. You know the type. Always frowning. Breaks a bit too hard so that people fall here and there. Checks extra hard at your ticket. Drives off when he sees people are running to catch the bus, etc. That type.

Anyway, so I get in, and first, there is only one lady with her baby and pram(I have to say, I hate seeing prams on the buses cos there is always one drama or the other amongst the mothers or with mama and driver). There is space for three prams on the buses, but you know the prams they make these days...fucking caterpillars.

Anyway, two other mums and babies get onboard. The prams do not fit, one is actually blocking the middle of the aisle, which is not allowed. The driver starts his wahala. None of these women or their husbands speak the language. The driver just keeps announcing stuff and nobody even moves an inch. Trust me, by the third announcement, I was up, shoving, pushing, moving the fucking things. The parents were as passive as...dumb asses. No knowledge of how to make those things shrink...

I got to eye brow lady at 12. Eye brow lady says come back at 2...now, this is the kind of shopping center where they have nothing. And its one of those places that is so far out, that it will be impossible for me to leave, go buy my blouse and get back. It would take me about and hour to get into town and an hour to get back. I would never be able to even get off the train. So, I wasted two precious hours doing nothing. I had lunch and read a newspaper.

Then I went to the ghetto to fix my hair. Its only in the ghetto you never have to book any time, cos even if you did, nobody would really honor such a committment. I got my hair fixed and by 5 I was out of there.

Bought my blouse in the city just before 6.

Decided to get some new buttons for the trousers I was gonna wear...and thats a whole other story, to be continued tomorrow...

Hope you all had a good weekend.

Love,
Waffy

Now that the winter olympics is over...

What will happen to my insomnia? From whence, shall I feed it? During these past two weeks, my nights have been spent crying with losers and rejoicing with winners. It did not matter what country won, my heart was right there...it has been an eventful two weeks. Thank you Vancouver, Thank you Canada. In these nights of snow and fantasy, I have thought about so many things....

1.The number one winter sports would have to be cross country skiing! Oh the drama! What competition from the Norwegians and Swedes! I have had a jolly good time. I watched every single one of the events. I hope to learn how to ski soon enough. I am pumped! Inspired by these men and women. Ah! I can not tell you how many times I saw myself in the TV set, skiing like the devil down a most extraordinay slope, only me...my opponents all crashing down...it has been great! I won gold many times!

2. Considering how much time I spent following my favourite athletes in the cross country, I kinda forgot all about my other love, figure skating. My main guy did not win though...which I think just sucks. He is the king of ice...I love you Evgeni!

3. I got my sister to watch curling with me a couple of times and together, we still could not figure out what was going on. In fact, at the very last game in the women's final, we had no idea when it was all over. I have to hand it to my sister, she did come up with extraordinary ideas about which direction the "stones" should go....amazing...

4. I dont't know why the Americans always have to be so competitive with this snow boarding thingy...its not like they "own" it. I found them all pretty annoying and arrogant. In fact, I was happy for anybody that won. As far as you were not American.

5. The biathlon was pretty interesting as well. I mean, shooting and skiiing? Who comes up with this stuff? Quite mind blowing, I tell you. My favourite thing to do was to shout when they missed their targets...too bad.

6. For some reason, I enjoy watching ski jumping. Don't ask me why. I just enjoy guessing who will jump the farthest and hearing the commentators talk about different techniques when jumping. Anytime I watch it, I wonder why on earth it is a sport? But of course, it all has to do with muscles and technique etc. Meanwhile, how come they do not crash like they do in alpine skiiing? huh? They just land like birds? Just amazing.

7. As for those alpine skiing athletes, Good Lord! All that speed and going this way and that way....Jeez! It looks like such an adrenaline rush! Looks like something you should get some serious drugs for...Lordy.

8. I have to admit, the only reason I watched the speed skating was to see the men in those tight things they wear. Even better than watching men doing hurdles in slow motion! Hahahahahahahaha

Well, well, as you can see, I will miss Vancouver and the marple leaf or whatever they call it.

I guess my nights will be back to watching "Knight Rider" and "Macgyver"...gosh!

P.S: For some reason, I could never finish any of the Ice Hockey games...I even slept off in the big final btw U.S.A and Canada. Anytime Ice Hockey comes on, I fall asleep...I think I feel the same way about it as I do about football. Following balls ( pucks, round objects)around makes me dizzy...I just can't do it. Its boring and takes forever...