I passed

I was sick as a dog with worry over my grades this semester. It has been a crap semester and i let myself go in the academics department. I mean, i totally let myself go. I was struggling in Intro to Broadcast (yeah i know it's my major and i am appalled by my performance in that class) and in History of the U.S. and i honest to God thought i was going to get an F and a D for the two.

I finally checked my grades today. They've been out for about four days now, for the first two i was in Dubai and then the student data site is only available at certain times in the U.S. and i had to work out the time diff and log on at the right time and i finally got it today. I passed. Everything.

I've never gotten a C before but this time i got two. Not brilliant, i know. I'm gonna have to do far better than this, those are not good marks, but i was so grateful i didn't fail, i really didn't care about the C's. I got two A's and a B for the rest of my classes. All in all my GPA is 3.0 Distgusting performance, but at least i can pull it back up to something decent. I want to graduate magna cum laude or however you spell those. So i have four more semesters to get my stuff together. But thank you God i passed. I'm sorry i am not praising you enough for allowing me to pass though i know i ddin't deserve it. Thank you so very much Jesus, i really really am humbled by this and i do appreciate it. Magna Cum Laude or not, thanks for having my backside always. I'm not worried anymore.

Dubai

So we just got back from Dubai, my favourite place right now. I had to go renew my vusa to the states so they would let me back into their stupid country. Anyway, we spent the week in Dubai and it was three kinds of amazing.

We got there on Monday morning and had a time trying to find a National Bank of Abu Dhabi because for my interview at the American Consulate in Dubai, i have to show up with a bunch of documents, and one of them was a receipt showing i have paid the fee and it had to be that specific bank. So we landed around half past noon and by the time we got out of passport control, baggae claim and got a cab, it was around one fifteen. So we are looking for this bank yeah, and the driver takes us to the Abu Dhabi Coomercial Bank. We realize we are in the wrong place and go around looking for the bank. Which is closed. They close at one thirty. Ok, so we make a plan to go early the next monring though my interview is at seven thirty in the morning.

We found a hotel, the Hallmark Hotel. It was...quaint. Clean. They had cable. What else do you need really? Then we went to our usual haunt, City Center Mall. So that only confirmed how much i hate malls and the people who go to them, they do not know how to bloody walk. The kids are demented or something and just charge at you or run right in front of your trolley and scream bloody murder when you run their ignorant asses over. And people are like sheep, stupid stupid creatures with no sense of direction or consideration. I hate malls.

The week was great, i loved being back in Dubai, ther whether was fabulous, like summer in a regular climate. Their winter is everyone else's summer weather and their summer is the stomach of hell. A few funny things happened. We switched rooms, on day because my brother and dad hadn't arrived in Dubai yet cuz Farai was writing exams. Anyway, we moved to the same room, one floor lower. So one day mum forgot and she went to the second floor and unlocked the door and walked in on these arab guys sitting there in shock. It was the funniest thing ever. Then on our last night there, we were going to buy something and our cab driver had some sort of gastro-intestinal issues and kept farting out loud. I mean like, long, high pitched farts. Every few seconds. ANd we were caught in traffic. So we had to endure such for like half an hour. He was shameless, and we could not laugh cuz it was silent (between farts that is) cuz he had the radio off. It was a nightmare but so incredibly funny at the same time.

Ok, i really am not in the mood to blog today. I'm gonna stop now.

Heroine Addicts

I just saw a piece on how Afghanistan has become the largest cultivator, producer and distrubutor of heroine in the world producing over 87% of the world's heroine. That is so shocking.

There was a man passed out in front of our apartment building here in Iran the other day. He looked half dead, blood coming out of his nose and just lying there in fron of the building. My family, oblivious to the goings on, were concerned, trying to get someone to call the police. Every Iranian that passed by was ignoring and walking past with disgusted looks on their faces. There is a boy up on the fourth floor who speaks English and he must have been embarrassed on the count of our family being foreign, but he was trying to get us to just leave it. My mother being the persistent woman she is, she kept pressing the matter. He could have died right there on the front steps and that would have been gross and really disconcerting. So finally the guy from the fourth floor's mum yells out the window and tells us he is a druggie. But still, it's not right just to leave the man dying in his own filth is it? It was sad.

I saw a piece earlier this morning called "Who's Afraid of AIDS?" about young kids in Latin America struggling with HIV and TB and Aids. It was sad but looking at the women (and it usually is women, men are uncaring idiots) teaching them and caring for them was really thought provoking. I mean these women devote their lives to these kids and the kids really love these women. It is a very fulfilling livelihood. Is journalism fulfilling? I suppose if you are reporting news overseas ( i don't find anything American worthwhile really. My prejudice i suppose) about worthwhile things or if your report can bring chnage and help people. Humanitarian news. That sort of thing. Hmmn. I dunno. You have to have a passion for it to the extent that you do not even realize that you are working or that you are overworking. How do you know you have a passion for something? Is it something you inherently know? DO you figure it out after five years of hating your job? Or do you realize in school? When and how do you know what your real passion is and that you are not just settling for safe and practical and something you think you may be halfway good at?

I hate the twenties. It's only been 2 years but i don't think i am doing them right yet. How do you get through the twenties and love them?

The happenings

So. Life is fun again isn't it? Bloody wicked it is.

I think i want to be a dancer. Ok, so there is another one of my mental masterbations, but still, it's a pleasant thought isn't it. Seriously though, i do want to take a ballroom class finally. I have always waned to but this time i think i will. ANd i am going to work out this coming semester. So i can not look so scrawny nd at least get some muscles to compensate. Look like a dancer perhaps. We'll see. Plus that Nigerian guy i met in the library that night said he'll be my trainer. Ha. We'll about that too ey?

So there is no one i miss. That is pathetic isn't it? I mean, i didn't have any friends in Texas and though me and my relatives there get on, it's not that sort of "oh my gosh i miss you like London misses the sun" type deal. That is horrid. I am a horrid person. Ah well, i'm with my family and i appreciate the fact that though people have been coming and going in my life, i can say they are always here. as annoying as they can sometimes get. They're constant. Enough about that.

Iranian guys are such pervy loons. They can't get enough of staring and following and all that jazz. I am easily irritable. The poor bloke today didn't realize this. He was being an obnoxious jerk, staring at me and following me and saying "Hallo!" he only bloody English word the annoying sod knew. I was good, i ignored the bastard until he decided to get in my bloody way and tried to touch my face. Crazy lunatic. I slapped his hand away and called him a retarded little shit. Don't think he quite understood, but he got the message and i was in a sour mood the rest of the way to the Kodak place. Bloody poncers.

The pollution here has gotten so bad. I mean really bad you know? I could actually see it, i'm not kidding. And you can't even see the mountains on the horizon anymore. The mountains are about a fifteen minute drive away. What is that? It is all those bloody cars on the roads. Iran is your typical Middle Eastern country with horrid traffic, about five billion cars on the roads at all hours of the day and.... oh it's just a mess here, an absolute mess. The driving is horrid, my rents will not drive here and we've been in so many near death experiences, i don't even flinch anymore when the cab diver drives onto the curb or on the wrong side of the street on a highway, dodging on coming traffic. They are used to it and it doesn't faze them and i have become that way too. Denise would pass out, she freaks at the tiniest thing i do when driving. Let her bloody come here and see this.

Anyway i think i'm gonna go to bed now. It was mum's birthday today. We went out to dinner and had the whole cake thing and then we did the presents bit. It was nice. I think she enjoyed it as much as mum really enjoys her birthday these days...well years in fact.

Laters.

Home for Christmas

I am here. I got here around 1 in the a.m. on Tuesday. My parents were there and mum had a bouquet of flowers for me and hugged me forever. It was nice, really nice. I was home again.

The trip was....disconcerting. I flew from Dallas to Frankfurt, about nine and a half hours. I flew Lufthansa, the German airline. I have decided that Germans are evil. OK, perhaps not all Germans, but they are not the nicest people on the planet. Especially the air hostesses. Evil, evil women they were. This one stewardess, this freakishly tall, blonde, mannish looking thing, was so mean to me. There i was minding my own business trying to put up my heavy carry on suitcase into the top compartment which was about fifty feet from the ground. Ok, so not all of us are freakishly tall and this cabin was higher than most. I was struggling, i admit but i would have eventually got it. She sighs in an exaggerrated way and grabs it from me exclaiming how she iddn't understand why passenger packed bags they could not handle and that i should not pack like this. I was looking at her like she has turned five different shades of insane right in front of me. WHat? Did i ask for your help? No, i was perfectly fine without you chum. Evil cow.

Then i get the Frankfurt and am trying to meet up with my gran. Of coarse they won't let you out, even just for a second, past security (even if you are going to remain in the airport) without a visa. I knew that, i was just asking to see if i could get somehting to my gran or something. Pah. Ok, they are so inept, i dunno why they call themselves the informtion desk. I asked them where the Flyers Bar was, my gran had told e she was able to go there and i should meet her there. They had no clue what a flyers bar was. So i walked around for two hours and finally gave up. I did however find a Haagen Daaz. Ah Haagen Daaz. The one thing the Germans did right. I had my classice rasberry sorbet and was in a happy place again. Then i had t resolve myself to the idea of waiting anouther eight hours for my next fllight. See, this is the trouble with cheap tickets. Bad seats and long layovers.

I made though. I got onto my five hour flight to Iran and got here safe and sound, life was peachy. I missed my family. I missed the way we do stuff. Together. We actually set the table every night, say grace and have a proper supper. I haven't done that since the last time i was here. We even prayed together after dinner, like proper prayer session and all. And the laughing. I never laugh as much as when i am home. Mum and dad are so kooky and Farai and Stephanie are such little idiots. There is always a story here. It's great.

They got a fishtank. Somehow that seemed important just then. And i'm back to watching four different INTERNATIONAL news stations with CNN International, EuroNews, BBC World, and Sky News. It's brilliant. Oooh. Mum was wearing a black leather jacket when they got me from the airport. Yup, identical to the one i just brought her from the States for Christmas. Damn. Well that is going to be fun. I might get a chance to buy her something else in Dubai.

Farai is writing board exams. His last one is on the 21st. We were all supposed to go to Dubai on the 19th or something. Now it looks like only me, mum and stef will go. That sucks. Unless we go after Christmas. But then that would mean postponing the whole gifts thing and Stef just will not hear of it. Speaking of the little bugger, she's almost as tall as me now. And she just turned 13. She might be another Aunty Debra. Really really tall. Mum is also quite tall actually. I dunno why the first borns never get the tall gene. I could be a model by now. Well...in theory.

I woke up this morning at seven and cried for an hour. I am really happy to be home and all, it's nothing of the sort. I just realized that what i am running away from is not geographically confined to any one place. It is haunting me wherever i go. I thought i could come home, leave it behind an move on with my life. But like a ghost that haunts you, you never really get rid of it, it just has to decide to stop plaguing you with despair and fear. Or you get so used to it that you forget it is there with only occasional reminders every now and then. Lingering in the past, i've learned, is the best way to accumulate these ghosts. I need to focus ahead. Just thought i'd throw that in there.

What are the blooming odds china?

Ok. So. I was at the mall. i hate that place with a renewed passion but for a car-less individual such as myself, i can only really go where the bus goes so....went to the Parks Mall. So last time i was there there was this amazingly gorgeous bloke. He was tall, light brown (back to the brothas) and hot to death. He had the most lucid green eyes i'd ever seen, so incredibly sexy, like emeralds. His name is Bryan or Brian or however you spell it and he was trying to sell me a phone. He's with Cingular or something. I acted as if i were interested (after all i am looking for a phone for when my line expires in March) and i let him pitch it to me. I was enamored with the man. But alas, i walked away with no phone and no cute phone guy. So i know where his kiosk is in the mall. And today i made a point of passing by to see if he was there and if he would remember me. I walked past and he was talking to some customers. So i went down the escalator which is right by his kiosk and then, to my absolute horror, his co-worker starts signaling to me like i had done something or he knew me or something. I would have ignored, but going back up meant getting closer to Bryan and hopefully he would see me.

So i go up and this.....this guy says i looked like someone he used to date. What? how lame. and then he goes on about how you're-just-so-beautiful-and-your-eyes-are-so-sexy-bullshit-bullshit-bullshit. So i humour him, keeping my eye on Bryan. And bryan finally sees me. Talking to his friend. damn it all to hell. So bryan is detached and is on his way for a break and i look up at him as he passes by me in one last act of desperation. And he puts his arm around me and gives me a hug!! I nearly did a backflip but i had to contain my joy because i would have fallen off the ledge and landed in fast-fix jewelry repair. not cute. So i smiled up at him and asked if he remembered me and he said yes. he remembers all faces. right. damn. well. ok then.

he walked off and left me with this tsaga (shona word meaning a ghetto thug-like.... bug-a-boo....i dunno how to translate it, just know he is not my type). so i had to continue humouring him and gave him my number. because i am mentally handicapped. ugh! Bryan!! Why? So i am bummed and his friend, whose name i don't even remember, has called me already (ya like a few hours later. blooming wanker!) and he sounds just awful....like someone i really don't want to associate with the way he wants us to "associate." While i was talking to him he noted my many shopping bags (not one of them for me, Christmas shopping is a cow!) and after he had so tactfully ascertained that i did not in fact have a boyfriend, proceeded to say that one day he hoped to add a Victoria's Secret bag to my collection and that hopefully i would wear it for him. How bloody crass. What is with all these.....these....tsagas and Vicky's? They are so ruining my fav store for me, i am going to be so creeped out by it now. But i am so upset that Bryan doesn't want me but his friend does but i want Bryan.

I think i might be slightly boy crazy actually. It just struck me. Like lightening. Or a really sexy man with dazzling green eyes. Oh my gosh. I am boycrazy! Eeek!

i think i might tell him, this tsaga, next time he rings, that i am actually infatuated with his friend Bryan and could he perhaps set us up or something. No. That would rather mean wouldn't it? Yes. I think it would. Blast. But i am never mean to random guys that stroke my ego. I should have a chance to be. And i really fancy Bryan. He has this ridiculously sexy deep voice and those eyes! Those jewels! Ay, muy caliente! But a hot number like him obviously has a girlfriend. Or fiance. Or wife. (tramp). Or he's gay. The sexy ones always are bloody gay! Damn you gays! Damn you.

Right. I'm telling him that i fancy Bryan and asking if he has a girl or boy friend. What do i have to lose, except this wierdo's number. And perhaps Bryan's respect once he hears that i was such a cow to his co worker and was audacious enough to believe i had a chance with him. Bugger. Ok, ok. Here's what i'll do. I'll ask, very casually, if Bryan and tsaga are close. If they are good friends. Then i'll pretend i am being the classic insecure female fishing for compliments and ask if Bryan thought i was cute, you know, so it's not just in tsaga's head, my alledged beauty (wink wink). Yes! Brilliant! Then, judging on those answers, i'll try and talk about Bryan as much as possible without actually seeming like it and then i'll go by there again next weekend, and time it so Bryan is free and his friend isn't. It'd be brilliant if he friend got transferred. Like, to Madagascar or somewhere. How mean. But it still would be brill. So then i'll make sure i look cute and flirt with Bryan and see..........

Oh this is just ridiculous. I need a grip. I need to let Bryan go. But my goodness those eyes, you don't understand. I have never seen eyes that pretty in my entire life. So bloody gorgeous. And green. How erotic. Ok, i'm not sure how green is erotic but with his eyes it bloody well is. And it has been bugging me all day but his face looks sooo familiar, like smeone i know or have seen a long time ago. I dunno, but he's hot and is going to be the subject of my daydreams and...other dreams...ahem.....from now on. Until the next one comes along. But there won't be one with eyes as pretty as his. Too sexy Dammit!

we be burnin'

i am in the middle of studying. I spoke to the smelly kid today. He's out of his head. He read a profile of me a while back and where i was asked what my fav stores were i put down Vicky's (Victoria Secret) and another store. So he asked what i want for xmas. I said a gift card to Vicky's, because i really do want one. So how about this crazy fool bought me a $50 gift card to Vicky's? What? I dnt want him and i didn't plan to get him anything, simply cuz i cant afford to be buying stuff for random people, even if they are my friends. So he claims he got it for me. How creepy. I meant i wanted a gift card from someone i was expecting gifts from. Now the boy walked into a lingerie boutique with me on his mind and may have imagined what i would get with it and what i would look like in it. Oh my goodness. That's creepy. Why me? I am just over here living, minding my own business not trying to attract anyone....well not really succeeding in attracting anyone i am attracted to. But in any event that is a little wierd, no?

I did this phone chatline thing last night. I know, i know but i was ridiculously bored and curious and the damn tv kept showing the damn commercial so my curiosity got the better of me and i called. i got about fifty messages. There are a lot of desperate men in Dallas yo. But i spoke to this one guy. He gave me his number and i called him (blocked my phone naturally. i dunno what brand of crazy he could have turned out to be). His name is....well we'll call him T. He's white, is part owner of a family business and 28 years old. I know, i know but i liked talking to him, he seemed interesting. And sounded sexy. He really did. But the whole chat phone thing is so wierd. But i can say i tried it out. And i dunno if i should call T again. Something about him was really sexy. Ok stop. I need a grip so...not calling him. I had my fun.

OK, final weekend. my head hurts just thinking of it. Damn it, i hate finals!! I am dreading my History and Broadcast finals. Not a big fan of those classes. But i'll be fine. I will. Ok, the right side of my face is beginning to twitch.

L8er.

Again

He's here. In the Library. Again. The guy i was stunned by last night, the hottie in the green sweater. And he's at the group of computers i was at yesterday. My usual group. But they are all occupied so i am at the next station behind him. With my back to him. Dammit! But he is still gorgeous and i just had to stop my paper once more and make note of it. He's so cute. Ok back to my research paper. Dammit he's fwine. Ok, stop.

One Week

I go home for five weeks in about a week. Granted between me and then are horrid horrid finals...but after that i get to get away.

Lenny Kravitz is a sex bomb. Love the video with him and Diddy and Pharell. He's so hot. Random thought.

Being A Black Woman

It seems that an article was written to Sister 2 Sister magazine by a Caucasian woman who requested a response from black men. I'm so glad she got what she asked for (and more) !!!

Dear Jamie:

I'm sorry but I would like to challenge some of your Black male readers. I am a White female who is engaged to a Black male-good-looking, educated and loving. I just don't understand a lot of Black female's attitudes about our relationship. My man decided he wanted me because the pickings amongst Black women were slim to none. As he said they were either too fat, too loud, too mean, too argumentative, too needy, too materialistic or carrying too much excess baggage.

Before I became engaged, whenever I went out I was constantly approached by Black men, willing to wine and dine me and give me the world. If Black women are so up in arms about us being with their men, why don't they look at themselves and make some changes. I am tired of the dirty looks I get and snide remarks when we're out in public. I would like to hear from some Black men about why we are so appealing and coveted by them. Bryant Gumbel just left his wife of 26 years for one of us Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, the model Tyson Beckford, Montell Williams, Quincy Jones, James Earl Jones, Harry Belafonte, Sydney Poitier, Kofi Anan, Cuba Gooding Jr., Don Cornelius, Berry Gordy, Billy Blanks, Larry Fishburne, Wesley Snipes... I could go on and on. But, right now, I'm a little angry and that is why I wrote this so hurriedly. Don't be mad with us White women because so many of your men want us. Get your acts together and learn from us and we may lead you to treat your men better. If I'm wrong, Black men, let me know.

Disgusted White Girl, Somewhere in VA

RESPONSE

Dear Jamie:

I would like to respond to the letter written by A Disgusted White Girl. Let me start by saying that I am a 28-year old black man. I graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in Atlanta, Georgia with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Business Management. I have a good job at a major corporation and have recently purchased a house. So, I consider myself to be among the ranks of successful black men.

I will not use my precious time to slander white people. I just want to set the record straight of why black men date white women. Back in the day, one of the biggest reasons why black men dated white women was because they were considered easy. The black girls in my neighborhood were raised in the church. They were very strict about when they lost their virginity and who they lost it to. Because of our impatience to wait, brothers would look for someone who would give it up easy without too much hassle. So, they turned to the white girls.

Nowadays, in my opinion, a lot of brothers date white women because they are docile and easy to control. A lot of black men, because of insecurities, fears, and overall weaknesses, have become intimidated by the strength of our black women. We are afraid that our woman will be more successful than us, make more money than us, drive nicer cars and own bigger houses. Because of this fear, many black men look for a more docile woman. Someone we can control. I have talked to numerous black men and they continuously comment on how easy it is to control and walk over their white women. I just want to set the record straight. I want A Disgusted White Girl to know that not all successful black men date white women. Brothers like Ahmad Rashad, Denzel Washington, Michael Jordan, Morris Chestnut, Will Smith, Blair Underwood, Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds, Samuel L. Jackson, and Chris Rock all married strong black women And, to flip the script, there are numerous white men, in and out of the spot light, who openly or secretly desire black women over white women. Ted Danson, Robert DeNiro, and David Bowie to name a few.

I just don't want a disgusted white girl to be misinformed Stop thinking that because you are white that you are some type of goddess. Remember, when black Egyptian Queens like Hatsepshut and Nitorcris were ruling Dynasties and armies of men in Egypt, you were over in the caves of Europe eating raw meat and beating each other over the head with clubs. Read your history! It was the black woman that taught you how to cook and season your food. It was the black woman that taught you how to raise your children. It was black women who were breast feeding and raising your babies during slavery. It is the black woman that had to endure watching their fathers, husbands, and children beaten, killed, and thrown in jail.

Black women were born with two strikes against them: being black and being a woman. And, through all this, Still They Rise! It is because of the black women's strength, elegance, power, love and beauty that I could> never> date anyone except my black Queen. It is not just the outer beauty that captivates and draws me to them. It is not the fact that they come in all shapes, sizes, colors and shades that I love them. Their inner beauty is what I find most appealing about black women. Their strong spirit, loving and nurturing souls, their integrity, their ability to overcome great obstacles, their willingness to stand for what they believe in, and their determination to succeed and reach their highest potential while enduring great pain and suffering is why I have fallen in love with black women.

I honestly believe that your anger is geared more toward jealousy and envy more so than snotty looks. If this were not so, then why do you continuously go to tanning salons to darken your skin? If you are so proud to be white, then why don't you just be happy with your pale skin? Why do you continue to inject your lips, hips, and breasts with unnatural and dangerous substances so you can look fuller and more voluptuous? I think that your anger is really a result of you wanting to have what the black woman has. BOTTOM LINE: If I were looking for a docile woman, someone I can walk over and control, I would give you a call. But, unfortunately, I am looking for a Virtuous Woman. Someone that can be a good wife and mother to my children. Someone who can be my best friend and understands my struggles. I am looking for a soul mate. I am looking for a sister and; unfortunately, you do not and CANNOT fit the bill. No offense taken, none given.

Signed, Black Royalty

sugar day dreams

I just saw the most beautiful black man i have come across here in Texas. I had started giving up on Texas but i was walking back from the printer station in the library to my computer when i looked up and at a computer maybe a hundred feet from mine is this gorgeous creature. He looked up at me as i passed by and i nearly fell over. He had papers in his mouth and only glanced up probably because he felt my eyes on him.

He is wearing a green and grey or something (i wasn't reeibly concerned with the exact colours of his clothes when i saw him) turtleneck sweater, looks tall and is a few shades lighter than me. Pretty eyes. I am back at my computer (duh. obviously i can't be writing this telepathically from my head. i'm so redundant.) I can see his back if i lean far to the right. He is so fine. So fine infact that i felt i had to stop writing my paper and dedicate an entire post to this beautiful boy.

How much do i wish that beautiful boy was my beautiful boy? Or at least would talk to me? A lot. That's how much. Alas. Let me get back to my studies. There is a group of men around me (God knows what they're doing huddled back there speaking in some foreign tongue) and i think one or two of them may be smelling of an overpowering....well it's making me lightheaded in any case. Ok, back to work. Oh that boy is yummy! Ok stop.

Gay is the new Diamond

They say a gay man is a girl's best friend. Bump the diamonds! Actually....actually leave the diamonds and just add the gay guy and you have a happy girl.

I was just chatting to my roommate about my gay boy toy. Otherwise known to the masses as the Whore of Babylon. It's funny, i'm not white and yet he's still my gay boy toy. How odd.

Yes i have very conflicting views on gay....dom. What's the proper word? Homosexuality? That is such a dorky word, come up with a new one girls. Anyway. I decided that the emphasis stressed on gaydom (it's a word now dammit!) in some of my blog entries highlights it above every other so-called sin and that is so not my stance. At least not right now. I have learned a lot recently. And one of the lessons is that everything that everyone does is relative. Everything is permissable but not everything is beneficial according to the bible. Why spend so much time and energy judging others when your own morality is reeking with the funk of hypocrisy? Why not accept that we are all screwed up and living life the way we know how and no one is really any different than anyone else, and no one really knows any better? Am i wrong for thinking that way? I love Mary. I have never judged him because to me he's my Mary. I dunno why i have taken to calling him Mary but i have. It'll fade.

I realized after talking to my roommate about him.......gushing really........ that i appreciate him in my life more than i know how to put into words. Huh. How funny.

I need some money yo

HELP!! I have enough in my bank account to buy half of the dollar menu. I need some money yall! I have to resort to country-isms like 'yall' because i am in dire straits. I dunno how i am gonna make it. HELP ME SOMEONE, I NEED MONEY YO!

E-x-p-l-i-c-i-t

F*ck!!! F*ck it all!! F*ckety F*ck F*cking F*CK! I hate this. i HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS!!!

Why the F*CK would i be given these feelings if i am going to be hurt all the F*CKING TIME? I hate it. F*ck it all to f*cking HELL!

F*ck me. It's my own fault. I couldn't stop it and now the discomfort is so frustrating. I am torn between smashing my head against a wall and crying my eyes out. I hate me because both are so stupid. All of this is so F*CKING STUPID!!

why do you do this to me? You're meant to protect me, you didn't. God, you didn't. I don't want to learn this lesson, why can't you just tell me the lesson? why must i have to go through it? You didn't go through exactly this did you? Did you? I don't know. Help me please!!!!! HELP ME PLEASE! Why do i have to feel so bad?!!! WHY?

Tell me how to fix it. I am desperate to fix it. I want these feelings to go away. You see my tears, you know my heart. Why didn't you prevent this from happening? Why did you have to give me free will? I don't understand you. I want to, but i don't. I DO NOT GET YOU!!!!!! Help me understand. Help me get past this. Help me. please.

Where I want to be

I went to D.C. this weekend. On a whim. He'd been bugging me all week to come since he had Monday off for Columbus day. I refused. Then Friday at 2 p.m. I decided to go. I jumped on a 4:15 p.m. flight and I was off.

8 p.m. I arrived, he was on his way to get me. Half an hour later we were standing by his car hugging like long lost relatives or something. I was glad I had gone. I was like a kid looking out the window at what was once so familiar to me. I was enamored with my former home. I have missed D.C. more than I could have thought. This weekend proved it again. It had bee at least five or six years since I was there. And it all came flooding back to me and the nostalgia was overwhelming.

I do not like the South. I thought maybe it was the fact that I was in rural GA and then rushed to Arlington and did not have enough time to adjust. No, it is the atmosphere. I can not handle the South, it is so out of my element. I need to be up north. The pace of life is where I need it to be. The vibe is what makes me feel alive. I have felt dead the past two or so years. I felt alive again this weekend. I felt a connection. The South has really sweet people but the pace of life is far too slow. My sense of adventure seems retarded by the pace. Everything is so spaced out, no one really just does stuff. Everything is planned, you have to drive everywhere, there isn't that ambiance that comes with a pedestrian trafficked society. The feel of a real city.

D.C. opened up my eyes. I want to move back. I am going to discuss continuing my education up there with my parents. I need to be there for my well being. I can't take life down here anymore.

It was almost the perfect weekend. He picked me up. He took me to his place. I love it. Townhouse, like a real house. Nice and bachelor like. His room was a study in all things disorganized. It was a disaster zone. I had to clean it, it was pretty bad, he was a bit embarrassed that he hadn't had time to clean up before I came but I told him it was ok, my brother lives like that so it isn't something I have not seen before. It wasn't like he had rats the size of guinea pigs lounging on his bed and feeding on mold, just a bunch of clothes strewn everywhere.

He was wearing his glasses as he drove. You know how sexy Malcolm X looked in glasses? Well, he did. Anyway, he looked that sexy to me. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself as he drove.

It was a little late when I got there. He made me a quick dinner, Stoeffer's I think. I hadn't eaten since Thursday so mud would have been gourmet for me. We ate and just chilled. We went to his room and watched a movie and fell asleep together.

Of coarse he's a med student. He has a gazillion things to study all the time. So Saturday morning he studied and I did some work on my laptop. We were in the lounge. He was on the floor sitting at his coffee table, studying notes off his super cool laptop, I am too jealous I need a new one now. His is touchscreen, he can write on the screen and swivel the monitor and stuff. Super cool. I was sitting on the couch directly behind him, working on my Dell which looks a bit silly now compared to his. He would periodically turn around, lean up, grab my chin and kiss me and then get back to his work. We worked until about two in the afternoon.

We went up to his room to get ready to go out. We were planning on going to the Spy Museum (his idea, I was excited though it seemed really cool) and I was going to take him sightseeing, he doesn't have time and since I used to live there I knew all the places to go, and then we were going to have some dinner, go watch a movie and possibly go out later that night too. We meant to just get ready when we went upstairs at 2.

So we left the house at 5 p.m. Drove around lost for a bit, I really had no clue where the Spy Museum was, never been there before. We asked around, and got there around 6p.m. In D.C. you park somewhere and walk a ways to your destination. But it was the coolest thing ever. It was drizzling, so it was overcast and the city lights glittered around us. D.C. architecture is absolutely phenomenal. The buildings downtown, and all around town are so pretty. They are classic movies scenes. There are Starbuck's in these old looking buildings with apartments above them, the streets are sort of narrow, the road system is frustrating to the driver but so 'busy-city' like. I love it.

We looked like we were in a movie. With a light drizzle and wind. Me in my favourite boots and a chic leather jacket with black turtleneck, him in a gorgeous button down orange-brown shirt with his sexy glasses on top of his head. We walked with my arm looped in his really muscular arm. Up and down streets, stopping at red lights and laughing and joking. We were the classic sophisticated black couple to the outside eye, if I do brag on myself. It was out of this world. We passed by little cafes, restaurants with interesting names, art galleries and theatres.

We made it to the Spy Museum only to find out they were sold out because it was a holiday weekend. Columbus Day. I was upset, I am sure he really was cuz he had been so excited. It looked so cool but we couldn't go. So we walked up and down the streets looking for somewhere to have dinner. We tried Hard Rock but it was booked for a private party. We tried The Blue Banana, and several other classy looking places. Apparently Paul McCartney was giving a concert in town that night so everyone was out and most of the places we went to said it would be at least a half hour wait. We went to about a dozen or more restaurants, having fun the entire time, laughing and joking in the streets. I am sure people worried for us.

Finally we saw a Subway around the block. We just looked at each other, and walked in and had dinner there. It was relatively quiet, so we had that intimacy factor. Over sandwiches. It couldn't have been better.

I told him I was going to take him to an art gallery and make him appreciate art. He resisted but I persisted and we went to a small gallery on Pennsylvania Avenue. We walked around looking at art and sculptures. He decided maybe it was cool afterall. Ha.

Then I suggested we go to see the Capitol and the Washington Monument and the mall area in between them. He thought I meant a shopping mall, I meant the grassy nole, or park between the Monument and the Capitol. I remembered my family used to go there all the time and it was one of my favourite places. And it looked especially beautiful at night. So we went and parked a few blocks from the Capitol and walked for about eight blocks to the mall. There was a free concert going on, a Christian band, I am pretty sure it was TobyMac. We saw the Capitol in it's beauty and took pictures and stayed at the concert for a little bit. Then we walked the length of the mall, which is pretty long.

There were puddles and it was chilly but the atmosphere could not have been better. I still had my arm in his. We got to the Monument and took a picture, I'll post that when I get it developed. It was windy and with all the American flags surrounding the Monument it looked awesome. You gt a virtual view of D.C. from there. In the entire circle of the Monument you see the Lincoln Memorial lit up, you see gorgeous views of the city and the Capitol. It was all so breathtaking. I had a great time. He loved it and said he had never thought to go there. I was proud of myself.

From there we walked back, my feet were killing me, them damn boots look good but are not for long treks so I was feeling the hurt. I could tell he was cold Yet it was still really nice. We drove over to the MCI center and caught a late movie "Two for the Money" the new Al Pacino, Matthew McConohay (yeah no clue how to spell his name so this is a lesson in phonics) flick. It's about gambling, it's really good and he really liked it. At one point, after we bought our tickets I was not paying attention, just following him and reading a poster and I dunno where his mind was but we tried to go up the down escalator. It was the most demented sight. I fell over laughing, we looked like such bloody tossers!

After the movie he got me a Haagen Daaz Rasberry sorbet. OK, we need a moment of silence for that one. It is the most orgasmic ice cream flavour to me on the planet. He knew this. I told him I was not in the mood for ice cream but he got it anyway. It was so delish! Yummy! Yeah I ate it. He hated it, but I love it! I was having my moment with my ice cream yo. So good.

We decided against going out, I had an early flight back the next morning. I was sad to leave. I had had the perfect weekend. We got back to his place and changed for bed and turned on the TV. Ya. We spooned and just lay there, with his arms around my body and him kissing my shoulder and telling me how delicious I smelled. It felt so comfortable. He thought I was sleeping and was sort of dozing himself, but not quite.

It's funny how life works.

He drove me to the airport the next day. He thanked me for coming down. Said he hadn't had such a good weekend since he'd moved to D.C. That he really appreciated me being with him and that he wanted to be friends for always. He hugged me for about ten minutes, literally. We kissed. Classic movie moment. Then I got on my plane and went back to Dallas.

Disillusioned.

Me and aunty M

During the last months

She was so beautiful

Uncle Robert presiding over his little sister's funeral.

the boys. that's one good looking family.

pall bearers

The three siblings, Mbuya (grandmother), Uncle Kingston and Uncle Robert

me and my adorable mbuya

me and daniel at the public viewing

my mbuya at her sister's grave

limo ride

Pippa and me in the Limo to the gravesite.

Pain.

the family.

.

Dreams in a Pale Blue

I have to move on. My hurt from my aunt is deep, relentless. But I can not retreat from the world long. And in essence I have manage to continue with life, it didn't end although I believe it is in it's last stages.

I have been watching the world events with a wary eye. Natural disasters? No. Supernatural disasters. All documented in biblical texts. It's happening. As much as we might want to ignore or pretend that it is crazy talk, somewhere deep down everyone is watching the world and their spirits are squirming because we can feel it. It's happening in our lifetime. It's about to get serious, where is our faith?

I am scared. I do not want to be left behind. I do not want to have to suffer through what I know will come. I am not right with God. I have fallen away. I have lost touch with my soul's only love in the name of feeling human love which I know is so inferior but my body won over my spirit. I let it happen and now I am scrambling to get back on track and I am worried.

A friend of mine once said he liked that my faith in God was not overt, but a gentle backdrop in my life. I was so disappointed by that. I can not have God anywhere in the backdrop, that is where I belong. I need to sound like a madwoman, like I am sure I do now. I need to do all I can to tell people what I have been told. To let them know that it is not a joke, not negotiable and that you can no longer put it off because it is sneaking up on you.

I have justified fornication, homosexuality, religious laxness, a woman's place, God's importance and neglect of your spirit. I have changed so much in the last two or three years, and for the worst. Yes I love my family, my friends, myself. But just because I love all those people, I have to be brutally honest. Fornication is not ok. Forgivable, yes but it sets you back ten years. Homosexuality is wrong. Forgivable, definately, but not right. God did not make you that way, somewhere down the line His purpose got twisted. You can not go through life dabbling in other people's religions because they are just pulling you away from the truth. Islam, Buddhism, Taoism, self worship, kabballa (however you spell that) and all these other religions are all twisted lies.

I dunno why I am off on this tangent, but I see myself as being so unprepared and I dunno what to do to keep from panicking. I love my God. I live to serve him but for a long time these have just been words. People hide behind their refusal to sacrifice themselves wholly for Him and justify their actions and claim they can not change the way they are. They simply choose not to. God demands all of you. That means dying to yourself. Everything that you think is ok with you, everything that you think is inherently a part of you that you believe you cannot change or that your think is too late to change.....It is possible. Die completely and do things that go against the very nature of your body and soul and only then will your spirit be able to commune with the Spirit of God.

I am not attacking, although to the average person who does not want to hear the truth that is what it sounds like. I am no spiritual guru, I do not presume to know God in His fullness or claim to live right. I am just a student. I am trying to figure out my God, because from this end He seems so confusing, but only because I have been looking through my eyes and not His. It sounds nuts, I know but I love God and I want all my loved ones to love Him too. I see my aunt's life and I see her dedication and that her life, at the end of it all seemed to have it's purpose. And I realize that sooner than not I am going to be alone with Him and all the excuses I have been feeding my mind will not work anymore.

So. I guess I am trying to say that I have reached yet another crossroads and I may have just chosen the hard path that will ostracize my friends, some family and the parts of me I have gotten so used to. But I am willing to sacrifice it all for Him. I am convicted. Hmmn. How very random. But it makes sense to me.

gone

my aunt is gone. She passed away last night and i don't know what to do. don't worry about me, this too will pass. i just wish the world could stop for a minute so i could process all of this. And i wish i could shatter into a million pieces so i could feel. But the world goes on like nothing happened. people still have the nerve to live and smile and laugh like jackasses and go to school and work and on dates and get excited and live. and live. why won't the world hang on a minute and realize she isn't a part of it anymore? i dunno why i expected a cataclysmic natural disaster to take place. it would make things a lot more real right now. but i am floating around in detatched limbo waiting for something to give. something's got to give right?

In a word......blah.

Happiness has been that ever-elusive figment of my imagination that i have tried more than desperately to chase down, wrestle into submission and conquer for......always.

Just a thought.

I got hit on by yet ANOTHER old guy today. I dunno what it is man. Why i attract the almost deceased. I mean he looked about forty something. I realize forty is not old, but in regards to love, sex and all things good in that vien, forty is no longer appealing to the twenty-something yr old.

On a lighter note, yesterday's old guy was white. So apparently i have to look good for white guys now too. I always thought i was invisible, deaf and dumb to them. Shocking really. I suppose i will stop looking so frightful when they are around. Who knows? Attraction might manifest itself mutually.

Today was high stress because i had a deadline due. I have another tomorrow and i hate my beat. I hate my reporting job. I really want to quit and become a business major. I already live in heightened states of anxiety anyways and now it is worse. Physically i am always feeling as jittery as one who is terrified. My heartbeat is way too fast all the time, i shiver a lot and i never have peace.

Perhaps it is just the laziness factor. I have no motivation to do anything but i do everything anyway and end up feeling sick. I feel sick. Not pessimism. I really do think something is horribly wrong. I feel as though i might have a heart attack one fine day. Scary thought actually. Hypochondriac.

I watched on of my favourite episodes of Friends this afternoon while having my dinner. The one where Monica gets a horrible review in the paper and Joey and her join a beginner's cooking class. And Ross and Rachel go baby shopping and Ross picks up the saleslady. And Phoebe tells Chandler he is horrible at first impressions. It was funny. I am dying for close relationships like that. Perhaps i should take into consideration that those friendships were idealistically constructed by writers and life is not as funny. But despite all that, your friends are meant to be your lifelines, the ones who make everything ok.

Week three and i still have no friends. Granted i have no time and i haven't come across anyone i connect with or that really gets me.

It is destructive to try and have other humans validate you and it is the mark of the classic insecure person. But knowing this doesn't take away that basic human desire does it?

Thinking

Thinking
It's never really good when i do, but alas, i have been provoked. I just watched the movie "THE SISTERHOOD OF THE TRAVELLING PANTS" and i loved it and once again a movie set in motion the wheels of thought in my head and spawned forth yet another one of my confusing introspections. Ya Ya.

It disturbs me a little that fiction is the one outlet i have in my life that frees me to feel connected to reality. But in all honesty it isn't really reality i am connecting with, i connect with fiction. How i wish there were some deep, dark ghost in my past that is the stem of all my inner malfunctions. There is nothing wrong with me. Yet i find life so difficult to cope with. So difficult, in fact, that i run away from anything real and try and hide in a world my mind creates. I try so hard to create the illusion of complication to keep me busy enough to ignore the monstrous boredom and frivolity that is my life.

I fancy myself having a scripted life because as we all know, scripted is so much better and smoother and wittier and funnier and more ironic and interesting and engaging than impromptu. What's ironic is that impromptu gets to a point where it begins repeating itself and almost becomes mundane and predictable, whereas with a script, one is free to create new situations, with new lines and new dilemmas and one can avoid repetition because one knows what has come before and avoids using it again.

I hate reality TV. It is all so boring and silly to me really. I am not a fan of boring non-fiction, in fact the only non-fiction i like to read include biographies, autobiographies and general stories about peoples lives....interesting stories....that almost seem fictional. Where am i going with all this? i dunno. I suppose that the reason i drown myself in fiction and thought and such related things is because i am searching for reality. Real reality. Somewhere buried in all this fiction, there has got to be something real for me. The real me. The happier me. The me i can't seem to tap into.I feel numb. Not physically, I'm not sure numb how. I feel like i need to find perfect love or perfect pain or something hard and tangible in order to feel. i feel like i don't feel. I feel numb. It is the most restless, disturbing feeling in the world.

Not to feel.

To have no impact whatsoever on the world. To feel as if your very existence is meaningless and does not shake anyone else's world even just a little. To feel forgotten even before you have left this world. But what are you looking for?

Love. I am looking for love. They say love is that thing that happens to you when you open up your soul to someone else and they complete you. They replace loneliness with companionship. They replace anger with happiness. They replace emptiness with fulfillment. They make you feel. They awaken the inner being in you and converse with your very spirit. You no longer have to do things to get applause or attention because you hold every minute of their attention, whether they realize it or not. And yet at the same time, you must also know that they hold your destruction in the very palm of their hands. Just as they can make you feel complete, they can break you into a million pieces and proceed to walk all over the broken bits of you until they grind you into dust and oblivion. That's the scary part of trusting someone with your heart. It is a very fragile thing and if you entrust the wrong person with it.....

Despite this knowledge, the desire remains so strong. I want a best friend. If i have to be honest with myself, i have never really had one. Ever. Friendship for me has always been fleeting and i suppose that is why i feel so alone, i have no one i can say anchors me. My idealistic image of love is of a best friend. Someone i can lay down with and melt into and hide in. Who won't ask any questions or accuse. Who won't......who just....won't.It's late and i have no idea what any of this means

Everything that is wrong with this week....

That is a terrible way to start off, but i promise i tried, i tried really hard to find a way to start on a positive note. But you know me!

Ok, so i had the day from hell's dumpster today. I hate school. I have decided. I do not like school at all. Not even a little bit. And what is funny is that my profession is going to be like being in school forever what with all the researching and writing and dealines and stuff. Dammit!! I totally missed the seminar on how much being a Journalist sucks.

I had a hard new piece due today. Ok, so i had a week, but it is hard finding news, i mean hard news and writing hard news. I hate hard news. Flipping hell, i hate hard news. Anyway i spent yesterday harrassing the Arlington PD trying to get get a story. At one point in the day i was waiting for the light to change so i could cross the intersection, because yes i still walk everywhere. There was this older man next to me, God only knows why this man was walking in this ridiculous heat, i am one story but normal people do not walk here. No one does actually. Their pedestrian population is one. Yes, the stupid African girl who would rather walk two miles then get a lift from anyone. You cannot possibly understand that mentality till you have walked (ha!) in my shoes! And considering all the walking i do them be some pretty funky shoes yo! Anyway i digress. So this man was next to me and this truck was coming down, fast. Texans do not know how to bloody drive yo! Anyway i honestly was so hard up for a story i contemplated pushing Grandfather Christmas off the curb so i would have something to report. How psycho is that mess?

So yesterday was fruitless and i tried campus police today (the pretend cops! kidding, actually here they are like real cops yo. shocking) and i found a story! After walking in 256 degrees to the far end of Japan with a broken knee. Ya. So i get there, go through the logs and find the story i want to write about and try to get an interview with the investigating officer. Apparenty you have to go through the Chief of Police for further info. Ok, no problem, i asked to see him. The lady at the desk gave me a number and told me i had to call in an appointment. It was 10:30 and my dealine was 1 p.m. The man was in his office, about three feet away. But i had to go and call him. WHat the hell is that? OK, so i figured, i'll go outside and call him on my cell. My cell is a rotten bastard. Decided she was going to do that thing she does, give me the silent treatment. Thank you very bloody much!! So i had to go use my dorm phone. Which was back in my dorm. Eight thousand leagues away. I hadn't eaten all day and these days i notice these things earlier on.

As i strapped back to my room, i swear i could not get that song that goes "And i would walk 500 miles...." out of my head. It felt like i was dying. The sun decided to be my spotlight and followed me with surgical precision. Bloody tosser. I get to my room, call Chief Hayes who says, sure come in right now. Right now. So i went back. I practically ran back and almost collapsed and fell into a pond. I did. Why the hell do they put flipping ponds everywhere dammit?

Had my interview and was happy i had my story and a pretty good one i might add. So i went to the library and walked around on first, second, third, fourth and fifth floor looking for a computer because it is easier to submit stuff to webct from campus PC's. Ya, so the entire campus was in the library at noon. I mean i couldn't even get onto the elevator because it was packed and there was a mob waiting to jostle their way onto one and most of these bastards were going up one floor. Lazy tossers!

I rushed back to my room (and my dorm is the furthest away from all human life. why does that alwasy happen to me?) and typed up my story at 12:30, submitted it at 12:45 and rushed to class. I still hadn't eaten anything except a Minute Maid Lemonade and half a vile peanut butter cookie. Never get those from a vending machine, they are a study in all things gross. So i get to class and we had a press conference with a department head and a story due next week. Ok, class is over, i had to go to payroll and see of they processed all my paperwork to clear me for payment for my job at the paper. Ha! Payment. They are bastards for calling it that, it might as well be volunteer work, i get paid a dollar an inch. No comment.

Payroll finally had my stuff, i went to the Student Publications office to fill out my encyclopedia of paperwork. She goes, ok i am going to need your passport. She hadn't told me to bring anything. My passport was in my room. Yep, you guessed it, i went back to my room and on the way i swear to you i saw imprints of my feet in the sidewalk! I aint even playin yo!

Went back, delirious with hunger and from heat and this weather makes me look disgusting. I am shining for all of Africa and i hate my hair right now even though my roomate is doing it for free, it looks like a horse gave birth on my head. But i had to get everything out of the way. Got paper work done after half an hour and went for a mini orientation from the advisor and met the assistant editor because the news editor i was working with was in a meeting. Ok, so she went over the beat list and i picked housing. Because i am a jackass. But it was better than Alumni affairs or something. International student affairs was already taken. By a buggery American tosser! Ugh! So i thought, ok, i can go. No, she led me to my desk and told me to research housing. Ya, so there is nothing to research when you are dog tired and irratable. So i ponced around on the Mac (i have to get used to a mac) for an hour and when i thought i would black out from sheer boredom and hunger, i left. I made a mad dash for the Connection Cafe and got a to-go plate.

I swear the guys serving the food must have thought i was a Katrina victim and hadn't eaten in days cuz i got so much food and kept telling them to add more rice and more broccoli and more meat and pasta and spinach and meatballs, fish, corn and ground beef. Yes, i had all that. Yo, i was honestly like third world hungry and needed to eat in bulk.

Went to my room, ate like a madwoman and fast too. So by the time it settled........... i swear i literally drugged myself with too much food, I couldn't even roll over and i thought i had broken my stomach. Thank goodness i opted to eat in my room yo. I was knocked out. It was 5 something and i slept till like eight. Got up for a dorm meeting that i didn't really have to attend but did out of curiosity and because my beat is housing so....ya duh.

And now i am in the library at 11 p.m. ( and i gotta walk back home. fun times). Oh!! I forgot to mention. Ok, so last Friday i wore this African print head wrap yeah? I love it but i am sure everyone else thought i looked like a right loser. So i was walking back to my room and out of no where this wierd guy like emerges from the abyss and was obviously African. Ok, i can handle Southern Africans, and perhaps the odd Kenyan here and there but anyone else, it takes a lot. I am an African snob because i come from the most educated African peoples. It's true, even despite the shameless bragging. ANyway so he introduced himself. I so forgot his name even before he finished saying it. He asked where i was from and i (in my ever-morphing accent) said Zimbabwe. He is from Liberia and English is not his bosom buddy. I could barely understand him but pretended i did in the name is African comraderie. So he asked for my number. Uck. I can't say no, i feel so bad. And i want him like i want a hole in my ass. Well....another one anyway. The point is i don't want him. At all. But i gave him my room number, i didn't want to bump into him one day and have to explain why some Asian named Mui answered the phone.

So he had asked if i lived there, we were standing right infront of my dorm when he magically appeared from behind me somewhere. So i said yes, thinking he might live there too, it's coed. After we finished talking and he said he'd call, he turned and walked off, Away from the dorm. Like i mentioned before, nothing is close to my dorm, you do not go there unless you live there or know someone there. He did not. What the hell was he doing there, behind me no less? Did he follow me? WHo does that? Then the fool calls me Sunday. I had been getting happy since he said he'd call Saturday to "hang out" (yeah right) and he hadn't so i figured he'd gotten my telepathic message for him to realize he was gay or something and had fogotten all about not answering my dorm phone and just screening.

My roomate was doing my hair and her friend was there. What kind is that? My hair was sticking up in forty five different directions and she invites this guy over. Ugh! And when Nigerians get together!! Oh my gosh! Let me not hate. Ok, so the phone rings and i am prepared to ignore but my roommate's friend hands me the phone (thank you bloody much. wanker.) I pick up and am accosted by this voice. I almost dropped the phone. I was irratable already and did not try and disguise that but the presistant bastard said ok, you're busy i'll call you tomorrow.

He called me today, thank goodness i was in a meeting and just got his message and i was happy cuz i could avoid him. Ya, not so much. So i listen to the message and got my stuff and headed here to do some....ahem...work. So i get here and go to 2nd floor and walk around looking for a computer and guess who i stumble (literally mind you) upon. Thats is correct!! Nia, or however you spell the man's name. If i believed in karma i would be cussing it out right about now. flipping hell. So i looked distracted but this boy is not to be deterred. I dunno, i think this boy is going to force me to be mean. I don't want to but i might just have to lie and tell hi i am a lesbian or something.

speaking of which, there is this girl in my world lit class. She is tall, light skinned (black) and has a british accent. Absolutely gorgeous and has this sophisticated sense of style. I feel sooo ugly around her but i ran into her today and she was just strolling all cool, calm and gorgeous and i was taking these feverish, small strides, trying to rush somewhere or another and she goes "whatsup" and i said hey in some horridly awkward way, looking a total retard. Anyway i think she is sooo gorgeous. Seriously, if i were a guy i would want to be with her. As a girl, i want to be her, but nature thought otherwise. Does that make me a lesbian? No don't be silly, it makes me a girl. all girls think that at one point, i promise you. It's just many lie about it. But i am so envious of her ambiance, she is soooo gorgeous. Man that girl is gorgeous.

Ok, so this is really really long yeah? And that is only what happened today. This weekend was a different but maybe i will go into it some other time. No i wont. But i spent it hanging out with my cousins who i learned are all alcoholics. Pippa came down, i was really glad she could, i like hanging out with Pippa. And Daniel was here. It was cool, i apparently am a bad drinker. I had two bottles of Smirnoff the entire night. Everybody else had that in about a half hour. And they all bloody smoke. So Jonathan got smashed and eventually Pippa did too cuz she was saying some funky things in her sleep and Daniel and i were laughing our bums off, it was funny.

Ya, so i think it is time to stop. I still hate school and am wondering if i really can handle being a journalist. At the moment i do not think i have what it takes to cut it and that terrifies me. I am so scared at failing at this, everybody is expecting me to do so well. I think i might be doing really badly in my classes. I hate school. Period.

smelling the solitary rose in the dumpster

That is what everything feels like right now. I feel as though i am trying to focus on the sweet aroma of the single rose trapped under mountains of garbage in the dumpster. My aunt's back in the hospital. She thinks she's dying, i mean for real this time. I dunno what to do. My head hurts. My heart aches.

I have been trying so desperately to change the way people look at me. I am regarded as cold, blue blooded and whatever else CLOSE friends have described me as. Migs said my perspective on life was a bit cold. T downright called me the wicked witch of the west. I do not want to be that person. I want to be.....

Anyway, i am trying hard to look at life differently and project happiness, even though the last thing i want to do is smile. But i have to. It is part of my quest to improve who i am and have people gravitate towards me.

So i am straining for the scent of that rose. It is so hard but so necessary. I suppose once you begin focusing on the beauty and goodness around you, you no longer see misery. Life is only beautiful if you let it be so. So i am trying now.

I have decided i need to balance out my thoughts to maintain a healthy mind. Negative, discouraging thoughts must be countered by happy, encouraging ones. My happy thought of the day? I had a dream. About my significant other. I am not terribly sure who he is yet, but i know i love him already. I know that he likes to watch me sleep when he knows i am about to wake up, simply because he knows i hate it when he does that. I know he not only makes me laugh but thinks i am hilarious and the only one who can cheer him up when he's in a funky mood. I know that he loves to squeeze me and tell me how i need to gain weight but secretly doesn't really care. I know i love to rub his back and kiss his neck. I know he gets me. Intellectually he gets me, even when i don't get me.

I know he gets on my last blinking nerve to the point where i hate him more than i could hate anyone else but that that is only because i love him more than i love anyone else and the two extreme emotions go hand in hand and neutralise each other so to speak. I know my mood swings irritate him to no end even though he lies to me and tells me nothing i do could annoy him.

I dreamt that he was here with me. While all this bad stuff was falling all around me and i felt trapped in it all. He came and his broad chest was my refuge. His strong arms fenced me in my sanity. He came and took me away with him. Told me i was beautiful and strong and would get through this. With his help. Listened to how i ' didn't want to talk about it' for about two hours. Let me rub his back for my own gratification. Kissed every inch of me and filled me with his love. All. Night. Long. Until he 'loved' all the pain away and filled me with himself. Mind, body and soul. And i forgot all about the hole in me. I forgot the stress and my migraines disappeared. He made the sun shine in my heart.

Perhaps i am idealistic. But it sure beats being cynical about life. I believe in love. It can complete you and it can break you. But i am not afraid of it anymore. In fact i dare it. I dare you to come knocking at my door. It's already slightly cracked.

Prometheus

I don't subscribe to Greek mythology or any for that matter but there is some literary significance to my referrence of the rebel, tormented god of Greek mythology. Can you imagine what it must feel like to be chained constantly to a rock on some remote mountain and have your liver pecked at by some hellish bird only to have your flesh heal and your liver grow back so it can all happen again day after merciless day? Torture is putting it very mildly. I don't presume to know much about psycho-analysis or terminology and diagnosese ( i am sure i spelled that horridly wrong), but i think that in many of our lives we go through a Prometheus period or stage where it seems life's circumstances keep ripping us open and pecking away at us day after day with no mercy. I do believe that to be true.

I spent the night at the hospital. She was admitted again a few days ago for a procedure and they kept her in there to watch over her. My aunt. I brought lotion and massaged her mangled, almost dead looking feet. I thought it might bring relief to the pain and make her feel better if the dead skin was exfoliated and criculation encouraged. Why must she go through this? It is not fair. Death is a cruel tease. Sometimes it leads one to turn their back on their faith and ultimately succumb to its seductively disguised evil. Death has been teasing her. Playing hard to get. No one wants her to die and most of us are in denial about it because our faith in God refuses to let reason prevail. Yet, how long will she be tormented like this?

I am burdened by her condition as well as my school condition. I went to class today, finally. And i think i have finished with my registration stuff. What a nightmare it has been. Now i am undergoing more of a nightmare. I am wracked with guilt. My parents must be stressed about where they will get the money to pay for it all. I am so discouraged. My fees are out of our limits. And i am no help at all. I should be working three jobs and getting enough money and relieving my parents who have given of themselves since i was born for me. I felt horrid when i was twelve and had all my eye problems, my surgeries and such. It was so expensive and so taxing. They managed but it was such a burden. And then i was still young, and covered by the embassy. I was a kid. I am an adult now, yet i am dependant on my parents for everything and that is not the way it should be. Mom said the other day how proud she was of the person i have become. How can she be though? I am not proud of me. I am viewed as a child by all my famliy. They all talk to and treat me as if i were five. I hate it. Not being taken seriously. I hate feeling useless and being the cause of added stress and worry. I am so distressed, i don't know what to do. I am at my wit's end. I am beginning to consider the unthinkable, just so i can make it. I have to sacrifice everything now. No matter what, i am not going to be a burden any longer. I need to start taking care of me.

In the story, Zues was punishing Prometheus for rebelling and disobeying him. If i am to use that fairytale as an example.....what is my Aunt being punished for? My parents? Me? I don't seem to understand the crimes committed though it feels as though the punishment has ben doled out.

UTA

I go to UT tomorrow. I am so scared. I went to see the school today with my aunt and uncle. It is bigger than Georgia. I have no car. I am so scared. I called Peanut when i got back. I needed comfort and he gave that to me. Shallow as it may seem to the average cynic but he called me beautiful when he picked up and said i belonged at UT and that i was going to be fine. And that made me feel a little better. I miss him immensely. Just talking to him every night. Dare i say it.....i need him to belong to me. I want to fall into him and not have to ever get up. But i know this is crazy talk. "So complicated are the ways of Kismet."

Fuzz Buckets

So i'm here. In Texas. Got here yesterday after having the trip from hell and beyond. I have never had such a.....well....such an experience. I am easily irritated and this trip was just taunting me into insanity. So we were meant to leave Friday at noon. So, we just started loading the UHAUL at noon. Ya. And my goodness, i was soooo irritated. Ok, my uncle is cool and all but one of the most annoying people on the planet sometimes. He is a control freak and a perfectionist and stubborn. And a know it all. He is really clever and all, but it is just too much sometimes. The diplomacy and modesty can be lacking. So i had to deal with that all the time. I couldn't do anything myself without getting criticism from him.....'no you're doing it worng' even when i wasn't. Just cause he didn't do it or tell me to do it. and then he spends time elling me obvious things and i am impatient..............in a nutshell, i didn't say anything but i was very very irritated.

When we finally got on the road it was nine at night. We drove like two hours to Tifton and spent the night at the Holiday Inn. Oh, i forgot to mention Tom. He is the older librarian from next door who agreed to drive the minivan since Uncle D was driving the Uhaul and towing the maroon car. Yeah so Tom is..............limited. So bloody corny and whiney and,......he's like an elderly kid. But not an incredibly bright kid you know? He is nice enough but....i dunno, maybe it's just me. But him and my uncle just kept getting into it. Bickering nonstop. And the thing is, neither one was ever listening to the other and tensions were already high and my uncle with his need to always be right and always have the last word came off overbearing and unreasonable and Tom, with his soft spoken, whiney, 'i'm going to tell mommy' disposition came off slightly challenged. It was so annoying it was laughable really. But i did not laugh. I am getting mad all over again so i would rather not go on about the stupid trip. I do have to mention we had car trouble and spent the night Friday in some butthole town Mississippi and got into Dallas at four Saturday afternoon. Crap in a bloody bucket.


Then i saw my aunt. It's been eight months since i last saw her and she looked horrible then. She looks devastating now. There is no other word for it. Devastating. I broke in half when i saw her. Didn't show it, but i did. She is thinner than i am.....by far. Her shoulders are like hangers. Her face is gaunt and sunken and pained. Her legs and thighs painfully swollen and so heavy for her disintegrated form to lift. She walks slowly. She has trouble getting in and out of the car. She has to go vomit all the time. She is not my Aunty Miriam. I don't know who that ghost is, but she is not my aunt. My aunt was healthy, sprite....i had to run to catch up with her sometimes.....but this woman is not. I am so shattered by the look of her. Her eyes are yellow. She told me today that that was the last stage of pancreatic cancer which the doctors have changed their minds about again for the umpteenth time and said that is what she has, along with the parasites. She is convinced she's dying, even though she doesn't say so. I can tell. I don't know what i am going to do. I can't talk about this anymore.

Jesus, i need you more than i have ever needed anything. More than i need my next breath. Please God. Please God.Please help. Oh Jesus. Oh God. I need you.

OH. MY. GOD.

I have been researching childbirth. Reading essays, stories, looking at diagrams and pictures. Talking to doctors left and right. Watching videos of women giving birth. Oh. My. God. I am petrified. So far beyond conventional fear, i don't know what to do to keep from going hysterical.

The majority of women poop during delivery. Yes, you read right, they poop. The pressure down there makes them poo and/or fart like crazy. And those who opt for the epidural are so numb from the waist down, they can't control it and they don't know they are doing so unless they see the horrified expressions of their husbands and boyfriends or hear and smell themselves. Could you get any more degrading than that right there? Taking a dump in front of a bunch of strangers and the man you are supposed to be a sex goddess for. Let me assure you, i may not have gone through it all yet, but there is nothing remotely sexy about having kids. I don't care what TV says, pregnancy is not sexy yo. And having to face your OBGYN after taking a dump in his face, what is that?

I am shy to so much as blow my nose in front of people i know. I know they say all inhibitions and modesty fly out the window when you feel like you are being ripped open with a blunt pair of rusty scissors, but I think i would just collapse and die. I would be so far past mortified, Webster's would have to come up with a better word to describe it all.

Let's not even talk about having to sit there with your legs in stirrups, open sesame for the world to see for hours on end, feeling like Gibralter is trying to pass through the equivalent of your nostril. And all the pain after the big pain. Going to the loo will be painful for a while afterwards because you're all stitched up. Hell, i think i am going to be terrified to walk or so much as move a muscle down there for fear or ripping open and bleeding to death. I probably will not want to eat at all.

How are we expected to go back to normal after such? How will i be able to look him in the eye after he has witnessed a gross, bloody, squirmy, slimy baby squeezing through door number one and out of door number two......well...number two? Ew. He is not going to be there. i can't take it. Mom might be, but i do not want him near that. I do not want him to see me like that. It's bad enough he has to see me going through nine months of rancid puking, funky sweating and God knows what else is to come. I think i am going to hurl at the anxiety of it all.

Oh. My. God.

Overdramatic

I really believe i have issues yo. Is is possible i may need to see a shrink for real? How friggin' ironic would that mess be? I mean damn.

Hurting

I don't mean to sound so negative all the time. I really don't. I hate that i am perpetually like this, but this is my journal. It's not intended for entertainment or public consumption, it is me. My thoughts and my feelings and i can not help the way i sound.

I am hurting right now. Hurting, not in a sharp, obvious way. My pain is a numb, dull ache. And those are much more frustrating. I can't keep doing this. I am so tired. So drained from it all. I feel like the girl who's been window-flirting with her neighbor across the way. I got terribly excited when he first waved to me and i shyly waved back, a little surprised. Then it was every night he was waving at me and i got bolder and started waving back more confidently. Then one day i bumped into him by accident and my heart fluttered. I boldly approached him and introduced myself only to find out that all this time he had been waving to the girl who lived right above me. He didn't want to hurt my feelings, so he just thought i would magically disappear one day. And my wounded self folded back into herself, refusing to come out and face the humiliation.

I feel hurt. That is the emotion i am experiencing right now and it is overshadowing everything. I got ten minutes. I had the initiative and did what i said i would not do, and i was given ten minutes. There was something far more important than me. A book to be precise. A book. Given the option, he preferred the book. And that stung just the slightest bit. I have been trying so hard, despite the guise of nonchalance i perpertrate. I have been a liar and a fool. I have availed myself to the utmost. Given all i could, more than i ever should and i have gotten nothing. And i am hurt right now. I want to talk to someone, but i don't. I do not want to have the same conversation over and over again with my friends. I get tired of listening to me. I just want to die right now. Or cry. I never cry. I always say i will, but i never do. But i want to cry right now. I am feeling so bad. I just wish i didn't feel so bad.

The Game of Love

When you are a little kid, life is summed up in three basic actions. Eating. Sleeping. And playing games. Why do we as adults assume we grow out of the latter when we never grow out of the two former actions? I think that playing games as children is sort of a prep or a practice run for adulthood. Because once we cross the threshold into adult land, isn't it all about playing by the rules or breaking the rules or making your own rules up? Rules to what? Life. Love. Relationships. What we as adults live for. To me, it seems that love is all a big game we play. Many of us go through it losing a lot at first because there is no official rulebook one is allowed to look through and find the answers in. You have to get to a certain level before you are allowed insight on how the game is played. And some win. Many lose.

I haven't really been in the game long enough to make any educated statements on the mechanics of the game, but i have sat in, watching others play and have subsequently learned a lot. I have learned one of the most important rules of the game. You can never have partners. It's a game of solitaire. Sure you would think that love is a game you play together with different (wrong) partners until you find the one right partner who will cross the finish line with you. No. From what my young and inexperienced mind had gathered so far, love is a brutal and cruel game that never ends. And you play it alone. Others may be in it with you at any given time but, essentially they are looking out for their own and trying to win. The competition is fierce.

Where am i going with this? I was just thinking about the mind games adults play. The calculations and the strategies. You can't even plan a simple date without drawing up a gameplan and reviewing it about a thousand and three times. And when something unexpected happens to throw off your game you panic and freak out. And for what? Why is there so much pressure? Who's rules are we all playing by? And if these rules are so effective, then why do we keep losing the game?

I was told i was a very calculating individual. I can't say i was thrilled, but i can't pretend i was shocked either. I am calculating. And though i run the risk of conforming to the stereotypical female role, i must admit that i have an agenda. I play mind games. With everyone. I relish in creating mazes and watching the people i interact with trying to get to the center, or the prizeroom. It tickles me when they think they are on the right path and they get excited, only to hit another wall. And yet, quite hypocritically, i despise games.I loath being toyed with, the very thing that i do to people, especially men. But i realised that we are all always playing games with each other. All the time. It never ends. We have been preconditioned as children to approach life that way. And whether it's in our careers, our friendships, challenges or whatever the case is...we apply games to them in order to win. And the many games of love are no different.

I wonder if we play with love in order to make it seem less intense, take some of the pressure off. Because if we regard love as a game, it is much easier to deal with losing at it. And the mind games protect us from revealing too much of ourselves and exposing our nakedness, thus making it easier to bruise. But it begs the question: what would happen if one day we decided to call it quits? Stop playing the game. If love was less calculated and strategized, and it wasn't a matter of losing or winning......would we be happier? Or would we end up more depressed?

The Dukes of Sexy!!!

Just came back from watching the Dukes of Hazzard. Thought it would be a really stupid, crap movie but it was one of the best i have seen in a while. i loved it. And Johnny Knoxville is soooo sexy. I know i am really late with that discovery but he is too sexy. I love bad boys. Theoretically. They are a lot of fun, seemingly. Just not when you're involved with them. But then again how the hell would i know?

I have decided to go buck wild in Texas. I know, my word choice is impeccably appropriate isn't it? Seriously though. Safe is boring and having too much free time on my hands makes me think too damn much and that is my biggest problem right now. Thinking too damn much. Ok, so maybe buck wild is not exactly right. I just want to live it up for once in my life. Before i have to officially be a grown up. So Texas is going to be my playing field. Yeeeee-haaaaaw!!! Ok. So i am still in post movie mode. I was inspired to go crazy.

I am not bothered about my love life right now. I am excited. I am not looking for anything serious. Now, i am not going to be stupid and say i am going to be single and happy forever. But just cuz you're single doesn't mean life has to be completely shit now does it, excuse my language. No. Knowing me and my inability to play nice with other boys and girls, i need to be footloose and fancy free. Raise hell. Be someone completely opposite from me. For kicks and giggles. It is really bad when a Christian girl discovers the liberation in making mistakes and living in the moment instead of hiding behind the bible she's pretending to read. I am totally devoted to God, no doubt. I stand by all my beliefs, i may falter every once in a while but i am grounded in Christ at the end of the day. But i was put on earth to live life. Not simulate living life while analysing and studying it alone in my room. There's got to be more to life than going to church and reading the word and preaching on top of your soapbox to the lost sinners of the world. And there's got to be more to life than hanging out, going crazy and completely ignoring the fact that you know deep down inside you there most certainly is a God and no matter how smart or rebellious you imagine yourself to be, you can't fool yourself into believing He doesn't exist or hiding behind your ignorance and lack of initiative to get to know Him because other human being put you off Him. There is a healthy balance and it has become my quest to find it and live it.

So Texas means a new start, shedding inhibitions and letting loose and rediscovering my faith in Jesus. It means not obsessing over love. Not worrying about being pretty. Not stressing over having little to no money. And not depressing over friendships or lack there of. It's about me finding out who the fuck I is. Should be simple enough.

I want to be a model

But i am too much of a realist. Pah. OK, i was awestruck by watching all of 2003's America's Next Top Model episodes on a VH1 marathon today. I was packing and home alone and i needed some noise in the background and that was it. Needless to say, no packing was done. I do not like reality TV shows. I hate watching other people do nothing really important and pass it off as entertainment (especially famous people. i really don't like celebs....or rather the stigma around celebs and everyone's fascination with their every action.....but i digress) but for some inexplicable reason, i was sucked into this show today and lo and behold......i was....... riveted. The women are stunning. They have presence. They have soul. They have hair and make-up people. I believe if i had beautiful skin (which i soooooo don't. I think that is heaven's ongoing joke.) and was at least three inches taller....i would seriously want to be a model. I hate people who stereotype them. They are not bubbleheaded idiots. They are very impressive women, some of them. And perhaps if my outer beauty was a thing brooded over and recognised, i wouldn't have to do all the brooding and self degredation and i would have enough incentive to work on the inner moi. Probably not, but modelling looks bloody fun. And every girl wants to feel beautiful sometimes.

I had a talk with the Whore of Babylon today. You know who you are. Anyway, we had a very interesting conversation where we went around in complete circles. I was talking him up to himself and trying to make him see that he is the bling in the object of his interest's eyes. And then i chucked everything i told him to do out the window when the convo unfortunately turned it's lights on naked, unprepared me. And i played the role of bumbling hypocrite with an elegance and grace that i'm even apalled at. Seriously. i had an ultimatum. Talk to Peanut. I honestly did try. I had a prelim talk, just barely broaching the subject of definition with Peanut. And i realised that he was not going to take me seriously. So i am not talking to him. Period. I am not having the dreaded "CONVERSATION" with him. I am going to let sleeping dogs lie. And cry myself to sleep. Not over Peanut. But over.......i don't quite know right now.

I have to go. I can't see the computer clearly anymore, my vision has become blurred.

Lookey....

I took a test (i was bored) to see why i was still single and virtually figure out what's wrong with me. Bloody interesting results i think.


Why Are You Still Single?
mannie, you're single because you don't want to slow down

Whether you're working all hours, busy with school, or planning a cross-country move, it sounds like you just don't have time for anyone else in your life...right now, that is. Your timing may be off in other aspects, too. Chances are, you've met that perfect person who just so happens to be married or planning their own cross-country move. So take a step back for a moment. Is there something underlying this? Could it be you're afraid to get involved for some reason or another, and are therefore attracted to people who are simply unavailable?Whether you're secretly sabotaging yourself or not, try a little exercise. Open your mind to those who are around you (and available!) right now. Then let up on your schedule to let that someone in. That is, unless you want to get married to your goals, and not Mr. Right.

Once upon a girl

I'm reading a book about a prostitute. Maria. Written by a man. A very insightful man i believe is making love to my mind through his words. So poetic. And so invasive. He has essentially written a book about me, or what i imagine that is. No, that is not correct. He has written a book i imagine i would have written. So beautiful. And yet so true. I've been swept away by the tornado he has created through his thoughts, projected onto a fictional woman who happens to be a prostitute. Aptly entitled "Eleven Minutes," (pertaining to the length of the duration of a sexual encounter). There is nothing cliche about the story as one would expect a story about a misguided prostitute to be. Instead the confusion that surrounds love. Loneliness. Acceptance. Denial. All marvellously explored in a way that can not help but invade the impressionable soul. And i have been sucked in. All my worst fears about people.... men.... love....me as a woman.... confirmed and then immediately contested. It's deliciously intriguing. Usually when reading a book, the reader indulges the author or the narrator. Instead here, Paulo Coelho has indulged me. I feel as if i am the one telling the story and he is indulging my innermost me. It's fabulous.

Here's one of my favourite parts:

"Today while we were walking around the lake, along that strange road to Santiago, the man who was with me- a painter, with a life entirely different from mine- threw a pebble into the water. Small circles appeared where the pebble fell, which grew and grew until they touched a duck that happened to be passing and which had nothing to do with the pebble. Instead of being afraid of that unexpected wave, he decided to play with it.
Some hours before that scene, i went into a cafe, heard a voice, and it was as if God had thrown a pebble into that place. The waves of energy touched both me and a man sitting in a corner painting a portrait. He felt the vibrations of that pebble, and so did i. So what now?
The painter knows when he has found a model. The musician knows when his instrument is well tuned. Here, in my diary, I am aware that there are certain phrases which are not written by me, but by a woman full of 'light'; i am that woman though i refuse to accept it.
I could carry on like this, but i could also, like the duck on the lake, have fun and take pleasure in that sudden ripple that set the water rocking."