Long time no blog...

I haven't been on here in a span and I don't like that.

I dunno what has happened since I last wrote. Oh yes I do. Him.

Obsessing about boys is just so usless. Such a blinking waste of buggery time you know?

We have been getting a little closer and closer. But I really should go with my initial instincts about things. I am just not that into him. He is just temporarily filling some vacum in me but he isn't for me. He's just gone to Zim for the hols. Thank goodness. I don't think I could have kept up the ficade any longer. Well, actually, that is the problem isn't it? I would probably have kept it going until some valid excuse presented itself. Not very proactive I realize. But whatev.

I think I wanna just be friends. He is not touching me on the inside. My feelings towards him are flat. And it's not fair to keep this going.

Remember a while back I posted on a portion in the book Eleven Nimutes about how the main character met a man and it was like when a rock is thrown into a pond. The ripples extend out and inevitably touch a duck and that symbolizes connections and how some people are placed in our lives to touch us that way? The post was "Once Upon A Girl" and made more sense than this paragraph.

I met a man that looked into me today. I was wondering if this was one of those encounters with angels or something that get you to think about yourself and really look hard into yourself. But last time I checked angels didn't come from Kenya. Lol. No, I don't think he was angelic, but he was a random man who touched my life today.

I was sitting outside on a park bench basking in the sun like a lizard. I was cold and the sun felt so good on my face. I was slumped down on the bench and had my eyes shut. For some reason as he passed me I happened to slit my eyes open and he was staring at me as he walked past me. He stopped and asked me if I was ok. I said yes, I'm fine. He asked if I was Kenyan. Incidentally, two other people have asked me that this week. I suppose I look Kenyan this week or something. I don't mind. Kenyans are beautiful and very much like Zimbabweans. I was happy to be assured that i do indeed look African. I worry that I pass for American what with my accent and all. Nothing wrong with being American but sometimes you want to look like who you are you know? I dunno if that makes any sense. I digress.

I asked him if I looked particularly Kenyan. He said yes but that I could pass for a Zimbabwean. Good to know, lol. And there began a twenty minute conversation unlike any I have had in a while. We talked about relationships. Not in the cliche way everybody does with strangers.

It was very sociological our conversation. Very intellectual. I haven't had that in a while. It inspired some introspection on my part. He got me thinking about the meanings we place on relationships and sex and innocence. He said he could tell I was innocent. I have to admit shamefacedly that i lied a little. I told him i had never had sexual relations. I am still getting used to the fact that that is not true anymore. It's been a year and still it haunts me because it changed me yet I forget all the time until I think about it and it hits me once again. I am no longer innocent. But he said he could tell I was. He said there was a beautiful simplicity about me.

I usually brush off such comments form men but with him ther was no alterior motive. This is not just because he is engaged to be married and clearly smitten with his fiance. It isn't because he is a Christian man from Africa who values love and respects relationships. I just felt secure when he said that to me that he wasn't having me on. He was sincere and I felt it. And it shocked me.

I was flattered but at the same time I am not really innocent. I dunno if his perception of me was really just based on what I told him or if he really saw into me the way his eyes insinuated, I felt very open. And he said that he thought I was intelligent. I was not basking in the compliments, I was looking into me and analyzing my thoughts on the things we spoke of.

He was an interesting man. An African who I instantly connected with, though we had no business ever meeting each other. And the kicker was, I didn't feel the way I feel when I meet other men. I didn't feel the need to impress or flirt or be coy. I didn't feel the need to turn on the attraction feature in my brain. I was at ease. I enjoyed his words, not the possibility of there being somehting there. I wanted to speak to him more so we could be friends. I was intrigued by this individual who touched my life today.

How many times do you meet people with beautiful spirits. You don't know them from Adam but you can see that they have soul. That it will not be a fickle connection but it'll run deep, no matter how long your encounter or friendship lasts. Even if I never see him again, I hope that I am not that easily amused that this meeting is not something I overvalued on a whim. I would like to think I am right about this one. I have been wrong a lot when it comes to people, friends and guys. I have been wrong a whole lot. But can't I be right this time? Can't I connect with another spirit for pure reasons. No strings attached? Is that asking too much?

The world is so busy right now and no one takes the time anymore to value simple encounters and to have no expectations from people. He said that today. He said people are so selfish and so hardened these days. They are. I catch myself being hardened at times myself. I was a little detached before last October. Admittedly I was a little high and mighty and needed to be brought down a notch but I let myself fall a few more rungs down the ladder than was necessary. I dwelled and dwelled and still allow old ghosts to haunt me.

I need to step back and wait for the one. I have lowered my expectations because I thought that is what I needed to do. I thought that was what I deserved. I made mistakes but I don't deserve any less than what was intended for me. I still deserve real love. A real connection. A beautiful spirit to recognize the beauty in my spirit. To soften the bits of me that have been hardened. And realizing that today after talking to a stranger makes me happy. And optimistic.

Am I naive? Do I give life and humans too much credit?

Uh Oh Not bloody again

So Jackson came over last night. We hung out, watched Saturday Night Live reruns and chatted about nothing in particular. It was cool, no big deal right?

With me it's always a bloody big deal. Things got out of control somehow. What happens to me honestly? I mean it's like my brain shuts down and everything I planned not to say or do gets lost in the blooming wind. No I did not sleep with him if that's what you're thinking. Nothing like that. But I was planning on making this a friendship and now I'm scribbled. I don't want this going on and becoming complicated so I am debating on whether I should cut him off or not. That seems to always be my remedy to uncomfortable situations with men. I need to actually come up with a functional strategy and stop running because I'll never learn anything this way.

He phoned me today and he sent me two messages. I ignored him. I didn't pick up my phone and didn't reply him. Bollucks the dozey cow.

I am being completely dizzy about this whole dating thing. It's not working out because I don't know what the fridge I am doing. Ever. I almost slept with him. Almost. Not good. Not good at all. You are flipping celibate remember? Dizzy cow.

I hate this. I can't keep running from relations with men because I keep saying I'm not ready, I'm not mature and I need to grow but then when a man does appear in my life, I do the same blasted things over and over again and lose it and then retreat back into my "I'd rather be single" mode so I can ,live in a relationship-proof cave by myself brooding on my shortcomings as an individual only to emerge from that cave on the arm of whatever new man has flown under the radar and go mad and lose my friggin mind and be lost once again..

Jackson was meant to go away. I know that soudns juvenile but I was kind of hoping to stumble upon a big bag of fairy dust and alaka-zula-mentakabula-bibbity-bobbity shoo him away so I wouldn't have any drama. I figured, he has a horrible name, seems a little non-adventurous for my tastes and is not right for me at all. But then I flirt a lot and men seem confused by this and they assume things which they are corrrect in assuming because there is no method to the madness that is my flirting. And then I get stuffed because I am wandering around in circles and making silly decisions and then kickeng myself in the arse for being so dizzy. Damn it.

Ok. Steady on. I need a grip. Why does this happen to me everytime? EVERYTIME. EVERY BLOODY WANKING TIME DAMN IT! What is wrong with me, why can't I be normal? I don't want Jackson. How do I know? I don't but I don't trust myself around him or any other man. I let things get out of hand and self control goes out the bloody window and consequences are reflected on while they are being suffered instead of before. I shut down and it's almost as if someone else takes over my body and mind and I am just watching, paralyzed and unable to stop myself from saying dumb things and doing dumber things.

I need God. That's really all it boils down to. I need God and I need Him right this minute because this whole life thing is falling apart and my relationship woes are only the manifestation of the state of my entire being right now. I'm a mess. Pure and simple.

Work in Progress.

Weekend updates

I had a date late last night with the guy with the horrid name. He is cute. What's in a name anway right? That is what I trying to convince myself. I am not so shallow that his name is plaguing my dreams, but it is just something I am trying to work around. I have to find a nickname that makes sense to his name. His last name is quite shocking too so that's no good.

I digress. We went to see Borat. It was funny but unexpectedly graphic. It was shocking. He liked it though which is good cuz I picked it. We went to the 11:45 showing. Afterwards we went back to my apartment and watched TV and chatted for a bit. It was bitingly cold last night so his hands were freezing and I took one of his hands as we sat on the couch and put both of mine around his to warm him up. His thumb was stroking my hand. It was endearing. I don't usually like anyone holding my hand. Then he had his arm around my waist and was stroking my side with his thumb.

Then he left and I went to bed.

Idon't know. I hate his name, I hate his shoes and I barely know him. But he's cute and seems really sweet. I dunno. He's also from Zim too. So we have a lot more in common than me and those American boys I experimented with. But that is not to say he is any better than them. I don't know him yet. I dunno how he gets on my nerves yet. I dunno anything about him really. Well, i know a bit, what i weedled out of him through chatting.

Don't think so hard. It was only one date. He called me after he left my place and said he had a really good time and that he liked what he saw. I winced a bit over the phone but took it as his awkward way of complimenting me. I dunno.

But i was fantasizing about D.C. all night. On purpose. So I wouldn't fantasize about him, the new guy. Let's call him Jackson for now. Why Jackson? I don't know I always thought that was a sexy name for some silly reason. So Jackson it is for now.

I didn't want to start going crazy over Jackson before we even become good friends. So I substituted with D.C. Bad idea. It is not a step forward in getting over D.C. Neither is planning on going to D.C. for Thanksgiving and/or Christmas, now that i know I can't go home for Christmas.

It's going to be the first Christmas in almost 23 years that I will not spend with my family. That'll blow. My little sis really wants me to come home for Christmas. She even offered her allowance and forfeiting going to Dubai for our annual Christmas shopping. Sweet. I am sad I will be here for Christmas. Sulking no less. Ok, i know I need to grow up. This whole becoming-an-adult-seperate-from-mum-and-dad thing was inevitable. Time I sucked it up and acted like a grown up for once.

But i want my mum and dad.

Got promoted at the paper a few weeks ago, forgot to mention. It was nice. I dunno if my promotion at my other job ever fell through, I still haven't had my evaluation to increase my pay. I feel wierd reminding them because i dunno if it was official official and don't want to sound greedy. I really need to be more like the Americans. Go-getters and no excuses.

My relationship with God is going through a phase that will not give. I am stuck in a rut where my prayer life and bible studying and church going have stagnated, with random bursts of faith every now and then. I am worried about my spirit because of my spiritual anorexia but i am forcing myself to get it together and slowly, very slowly it is getting better.

Thong guy showed up at my job again yesterday. I think he's harmless, but I have wisened up and didn't let things go out of control again.

Have an Advertising test tomorrow night, a huge feature due for class tomorrow morning and about eight stories due for the paper this week along with my huge feature for the paper. Best get to it then.

That thong, thong-thong-thong-thong

Thought I may have been developing a crush on my photog. Upon closer reflection, I'm not.

I am currently obsessed with the lovely Ms. Billi Holidae's Smoke Gets In Your Eyes and Misty. I have always been a Billie junkie but lately I listen to those two nonstop and it makes me smile. Ironically Billie herself was a junkie for real, if internet resources are to be trusted. Sad really.

So I have not managed to connect with (physically meet) this guy that my friend.... no no aquaintance has tried to set me up with. He works....all the time. ALL THE TIME. I dunno if he's just trying to avoid meeting me. I am not too stressed though. I have no rush to get to know him. Not that he's not a nice boy, I am sure he is but i don't know him and I am just too tired to get worked up over a man these days. I mean, really get worked up not just silly crushes that last for half an hour.

Guess who featured back into my life late last night? Or should I say early this morning? Peanut. or B, whichever nickname you kept up with. Mr. D.C. The one man I almost got lost in. Who never saw me as more than a passing fad. The one man I almost let into my heart but was saved from doing that. He called me last night.

I haven't spoken to him in a long time. And out of the blue he picked up his phone and called me. For no reason.

I can't say it was a very enlightening phone call. But we talked a bit. We reflected on the randomness of how we met and how we've kept in touch for over a year and a half. It's funny, we have nothing at all in common and it was a fluke that our paths crossed at all once. We have no business knowing each other and certainly no business being friends. But we are. And I think I am now in a good place about him.

Of course there is still that dull ache inside when I think of what might have been and what I gave up for him without really thinking or weighing my options. I can see now how totally wrong he was for me but still there is no closure because I never got the satisfaction of knowing he cared for me. Truly. I dunno that I need the closure but I attribute it to the ache I get once in a blue moon.

I was lighthearted and no-strings-attached with him over the phone last night. It was....

I don't really know what it was. Not special. It just was. I hope this means I am dealing with all those old ghosts that flooded my soul when I opened myself up to him. Ok, too deep.

I met a freak today. I don't normally like to use that word but I think he very well fit the description. I was minding my own business at work today when he came into the store to buy a snack. He was kinda cute but didn't make my liver quiver you know?

Anyway, apparently he has pretty eyes because he said they were green (I didn't pick up on that without my glasses) and another girl that came in the store told him he had gorgeous eyes. He was my height and light skinned and broke the ice by telling me over and over and over again how pretty he thought I was. OK, that was a little much.

He began talking about wierd things and somehow he broached the subject of the wildest things he used to want to do. One was bunjee jumping, which he chickened out on at the last minute. The other was licking a woman. That is exactly what he said. He said when he was eighteen he desperately wanted to lick a woman. Lick a woman THERE. Ya, you know where.

Disturbing as the conversation was headed, I indulged him. Simply because Sunday's are slow and strange individuals fascinate me to the utmost. He did just that. He went into depth about things my ears had no business hearing but I indulged him. Then he told me he always wanted to model in his underwear for some lucky girl. Well, technically he said special, not lucky. And he wouldn't stop talking about it. And interjecting every so often how pretty he thought I was.

I was getting off my shift and he wanted to walk me out on his way to the library. I thought it was harmelss enough. When we got outside, he said he wanted to flash me. And he did. He showed me his underwear because he said I looked very curious as to what he looked like in his undies. I would have thought it was just some silly, goofy thing had he been wearing boxers. He was wearing a Joe boxer thong.

I don't recall ever seeing anything quite so disturbing and unappealing in my life.

Moral of the story? Men should never wear thongs. Ever. Boxers should be law. And those who break the law should be hanged by their thongs.

I take it back. He's not gay.

I just facebooked him. He's not. And he doesn't have a girlfriend mentioned or featured in any pics. Damn.

Cute Guy

I just worked up the nerve to interview a guy in the FA library for a story I am doing tomorrow. I thought he was very cute from a distance and when i got up close, i realized he was very cute. But i dunno, I have a feeling he's gay. Well my first feeling was, he has a chick. Then it was he's gay. And if neither of those pan out, then i am convinced i am not on his dating radar at all. But i chatted him up for a bit. Cute guy.

Too bad really. And I don't usually go for light skinned guys. I dunno why when i hate people who aviod dark skinned black people. Hypocrite, I am working to fix that. But i don't usually go for light black dudes. He's cute though. Okay, enough.

I feel sooo much better than i did last time i wrote here. I will go into that more when i have time. I have three stories due tomorrow. Better get on that.

Fun Times.

He's right you know

I have never felt so shattered as I do now. I have realized that my life is worthless right now. I am worhtless. Because I have lost God. I see now how truly hopeless I have been. My life has felt empty for so long and it's because I let go of His hand. And all I can do right now is cry.

Clark's response

Sha the only decent email you've written to me off late (at least in
terms of quantity) and all you are doing is fronting!!! Aaahh, S,
you don't seem to get me at all. Gosh, I was just telling you what I'd
have told anyone else. I have no idea where your relationship with God
is right now, I mean how can I, you've been living away from my life
of late. If there is anyone I think you're moving away from it's me,
not God.

You should understand that I'm human just like you and a lot of the
things I say, I suffer from as well. There's nothing I was trying to
point out about you, it was all just basic advice/suggestions based on
what I'm going through, take it as such and read through the email
then you will realise that it wasn't as personal as you might have
thought. I was just responding to a close friend who's barely hollas
so much that I don't even know where they are in life. Sha how can you
even call that a lecture, you must not know me anymore. And please
don't dishonour God by calling me a priest, I'm far from it.

To respond to what you said in your mail, I think we use the excuse
that we are human to cover up a lot of human. Let me make it clear
firstly that just coz I'm saying this doesn't mean I've got it in
check in my life. But the truth is the truth and even I a sinner can
say it as it is. Oh S, I know you don't like being told much, but
then again if I'd bothered to listen to every utterance that comes
from your mouth then you and I would probably have never been friends.
If I was to judge then I'd be telling things like, S you are such a
mean and horrible person, but I know your potential, that's why back
at school when everyone would be so pissed with you I'd just be
laughing at them.

You know I have so much love for you and I'm always real with you. So
please let me tell it like it is for a moment. Most of us Christians
run our lives the wrong way round, we use our brains and intellect a
too often than required that's why a lot of the things you said in
your email sounds correct but it's wrong. Just coz something makes
sense doesn't make it right. We should be Spirit led, only God knows
how we should react in every position. He knows when we should shout
and when we should speak slowly. If someone loses their virginity like
you said and they come to you, you can use psychology and be all nice
but how do you even know that will work, you don't. Only God does.
Maybe He wants you to scream at that person and kick them out so that
they will learn and be saved, we can only know this by being Spirit
led. Don't forget the existence of demons, only God can reveal to us
the secrets of their realm. We are not taking the Scriptures head on
S because most people don't like what they are saying. I think it's
important I stress I'm with you on the whole Extremist topic but my
point was if you follow the word of God properly then the multitudes
will call you an extremist.

Here is the truth S, neither you or I are saved yet. Yes we've been
called and we know the scriptures but we haven't answered yet, we
haven't allowed for it, have we? Can you honestly tell me that you
have the Holy Spirit within you?? Once we are saved and we cross over
to other side we cease to become human, we stop answering to the calls
of our flesh, yes no more sinning. I know you S and you know me,
we are good people with better morals than most but if the world ends
today we will go to hell with the rest of the world because we don't
have the seal of the Spirit.

Please realise that this isn't a personal attack on you, it's just how
I see things in my life and also yours. I want to change mine and you
are one of the few friends I have that are on the same level as far as
respect for the Almighty's concerned. I don't want to do this alone
and I was hoping you'd join me.

You know a part of your email had offended me then I realised it was
probably the devil trying to destroy one of the few pure relationships
I have. I won't let it happen and neither should you. I will always
tell you the truth as I see it and I don't mind being corrected where
I'm wrong as long as it's all done in the spirit of love.

In my eyes you really brought yourself down. I'd always looked at you
as someone who'd held their own and had remained pure for so long and
I didn't want you to fall down like the rest of us had. I didn't want
you to slip coz you had the potential to make it to the wedding day
without being tainted by any man. I guess I kinda expected too much
from you but you must understand that those expectations weren't
baseless, there's something I saw in you. But I can't judge you
without judging myself first coz whatever you've done I've probably
done as much or even more. I was just hoping you'd do better than me
that's all. My only prayer is that you may realise who you really are
get on that road to Heaven. I'm also trying to do the same thing but
it's so hard sha.

You are one of my most favourite people in the world. Even ask my girl.
I hope all is well with you. God Bless.

Thoughts of the Spirit

My friend Clark and I have been emailing back and forth and I have felt really bad after each email I got from him. He is always talking about God which I would love if I wasn't always feeling like the devil when he spoke to me. I used to be that way as a Chirstian and i wonder of living so long in America has made me so......lax. More than I used to be. I am still very much a Christian and a believer in Christ, but I am not as rigid. Perhaps the reality is I am losing touch with God and becoming more cavalier. Could it be that my fears of dilluting my spiritual walk once I came to the States and started living as relaxed and liberated as Americans do has come to pass? Is that really a bad thing? Does it mean I am further away from God than I once was or am I going through the fire that will purify me ultimately? Would I have benefited by staying home in my spiritual comfort zone or am I really losing touch?

This is the email reply i just sent him. I wonder if he'll be offended or hurt. I hope not.


When i say extremist, I do not mean truly living in the word Clark. I mean being so bogged down with the law, you fail to see the real essence of this belief, which is the salvation through Christ, not through following the law meticulously. I see extremists as people who think they know better than everyone else and even God at times, because they get tied down in the rules. My personal relationship with Christ is ever evolving and is based on a lot of mercy. I am not saying i totally chuck the law out the window, but if i break a rule, my life isn't over.

I am mature enough in my faith to know that I need to work on tapping daily into my spirit so that my spirit can converse with the spirit of God. If i am sitting around worried that "Oh gosh, I did this or i am not living perfectly and must get on that before I can even approach God" I will never truly benefit.

The law is there for our protection, not our blind devotion to it.

"Everything is permissible but not everything is beneficial" says the Lord. My spiritual nourishment is based on daily reflection of biblical precepts but i am not going to live rigidly. Otherwise there is no way I can ever hope to help those who don't know the Lord or actively choose not to know him.

The problem with most Christians, and i sincerely hope that the impression i get from you that you're headed that way is wrong, is that they get very righteous and feel the need to lecture everyone on how to be serious about God. Yes, people need to know God and stop their sinful ways, but just like teens and kids, lecturing and reprimanding will only drive them further away and further into rebellion. You have to have been a sinner yourself to be able to reach sinners. That is how God connected with us. He came down and went through everything we go through so he could truly say he understands. He lived perfectly and showed us the way, yes.

Christians must not forget that they too were once blind. Empathy is the best way to disarm someone. Instead of looking at sinners with disdain and self-righteous conceit and instead of being so worried about the future, focus on trying to expand the kingdom of God now, through the same patience and mercy he shows us everyday.

If a fifteen year old girl comes to you and says she lost her virginity last night, the last thing to do is condemn her or say how disappointed in her you are because you thought she was above that. She's human. She made a mistake. You were once there too. Realize that and tell her it's ok. You understand and God still cares so much for her. Don't beat her over the head with the bible and say she is not as spiritual as you thought she was or that she seems less devoted to God. Despite what she tells you, you will never ever know what is in her heart, be human first. Connect on a human level and then that will soften hearts and make spirits receptive to you to share God's voice with that person.

Being Christian means we are no longer tied to this earth but we are bound for greater things. However, we are still ON this earth and still human. Find the balance, no need for extremism. You can love God extremely and want to do his will extremely and live for him extremely without being an extremist. There is a difference. Too much of one thing is never good. I'm not saying too much of God is not good, I am saying focusing solely on one aspect of God, the law or living righteously, will deter you from the billions of other facets of who He really is.

I was not asking you to censor your emails Clark. You just seem very judgmental of me lately. I am not saying that because I feel guilty about my life. I don't. I know where I am with God and maybe I just share the problems with you and you think I have lost touch with Him completely and I haven't. It's hard for me to really talk to you about me because I am always afraid you are going to tell me how lazy, less spiritual and disappointing I am to you or how i am so busy I am not giving God his due time in my life.. I know that already, I am imperfect and I do slip a lot. I do not need confirmation on that and if it is all you can offer me, don't.

You know me to have always been someone who takes a lot of life seriously so if you were joking I missed that. If not, then spare me the criticism because that is what I am hearing on my end. I know we're friends and you're trying to help. I just need a human friend, not a priest.

I do care a lot about you, one of my closest friends and I hope you won't get mad and think I am pushing you away. I am just trying to let you know how I really feel, something I don't do often enough with anyone.

Flirtaceous

There is this new guy at work. We'll call him Mr. Danger. He is yet another West African. I am just convinced I have a following from West Africa, I swear. Ok, so he's the only black dude at work and you know ow black folk bond when we see another "us" person.

So he's been around a few weeks and though I hardly ever see him because of our different schedules, I have recently started working Sundays all day and he works with me half that time. Just us. So we talk and laugh and joke but the flirting has begun.

I am really not attracted to him, I just think he's silly. But he has been slowly saying things that are like whoa. He'll be like, "You are a good looking girl," in context to us talking about the dangers of me walking home every night alone.

Ok. Today he said my smile was "intoxicating." Intoxicating. You know, like vodka? Oh dear. Then he's inviterd me to a party for his friend's birthday next Friday and was dying to know what I'd wear to it. We had a whole covnersation on what I would wear to the party and he said he wanted us to go to the movies tonight so he could see what my style is like.

Hmmn.

Then our conversations somehow always get inappropriate. We started talking about what I sleepin. I'll admit, I was playing along because apparantly I like to flirt with guys who show some interest in me and tease them. But it has never ended well for me because these guys end up really liking me and wanting to pursue something and I am not really into them, I was just having fun flirting with someone. Oh Dear.

So I hope I can shake him off before i run into that little predicament again. I dunno, he was asking me to "wrap [my] lips around the straw and stare straight at [him]" and to lick my lips and we got into my satin see-thourgh robes and such. I admit, i was having fun being naughty but I will kick myself if I lead him on for real. Right now, he seems just to be having fun playing a game with me. I know I am. I am not into him, I just feel the need to flirt with someone because I haven't done it in such a long time.

Am I wrong for that I wonder?

Oh. I started a facebook group to find me a date. Ya. So one of my friends found me one. He's Zimbabwean and she said he was 6'3 and fine. She told me his name. It is the worst name in the history of all names ever in the world amen. So friggin gwash. I hate it. But I decided to be open minded, give it a chance and try and find a decent nickname to avoid that atrocious name. His parents were just wrong for that.

So we've emailed back and forth. I don't think so. I went to look him up on facebook but he had no pics up. So i went to hi5 and looked him up and found some. I do not pride myself in being shallow but I am sorry. Horrible name and no he is not lose-your-mind-fine. I suppose in person he could be cute. But that name dammit. I'm sorry, shallow as it may be, that name is just eating away at my nerves. Ay! El nombre no es bueno.

Where are all the gorgeous smart men with good names that are interested in me and single? WHERE? I have been looking for him for years now I'm tired! Where is he?

overwhelmed

so much all at once
spreading myself way too thin
busy but not productive
tense and afraid all the time because stuff is due and i don't have it
could work harder but i freeze up
i'm feeling so overwhelmed. And i'm scared.

Thought.

Ok this is all just damn ridiculous now isn't it? I NEED a friggin boyfriend already.

Well, i do. Judge and criticize and advise all you want but i KNOW i NEED a bofriend, like yesterday ago.

I am so friggin lonely it's almost pathetic how pathetic i find myself and my life. I am so tired of this, so friggin tired of all this. Honestly. Bloody tired.

And..... I hate to say it but...

I'm just aching for a shag. I really am you know. And i haven't even had a proper shag ever. EVER.

Honestly here kids, i am not one to be seen as less than perfect but reality has been kicking my arse for far too long now so I'm just giving in. I don't care. I want a shag and i am not really ashamed to admit that. I want a boyf and i don't think that is pathetic of me to want one.

NOW.

So what to do to solve this little dilema of mine? Be proactive. I've been afraid of men almost as much as i am afraid of snakes (can't stand the slimey buggers). I have stayed completely away form any man or tried to woo a man by pretending not to have any slight interest in him. Or i have gone the other extreme and gone out with total losers because i had no other options going at the moment. Ok, that was a little pathetic, i admit, but damn it.

I need a plan. I need a boyf like now and i need a shag.

This really all very disillusioning.

But i don't care.

Wedding bells and rose petals

So i went ot the wedding. I flew to GA on Friday morning at some obscene hour in the morning so i'd be there before the rehearsal dinner and she could pick me up first thing and then get on with the rest of her day. I was not looking forward to it at first. I thought, "I'm the only "us" person there and it's gonna be so country and I haven't seen her in over a year and a half and...." just a bunch of stuff.

I got there and as we drove into south GA from Jacksonville, it all came back to me. I used to live here a year ago. Nothing about it changed really, i just realized how much prettier is it over there than here. And i remembered how our friendship worked. It was nice.

The day before the wedding was crazy busy. I got my nails done. They looked stupid by the way. I wanted french tips 9 i know cliche) but my natural nails don't exactly grow. Ever. So i was gonna get acrylic. I don't like putting that stuff on my nails and asked her how bad it would look with french tips on my own nails and if it was bad, she should just do red polish to match the dress i was wearing. She said french tips would be glorious on my natural nails. Moron. They looked so dumb. But the bride's mum and aunties were all waiting in line behind me so i had to suck it in and smile and sat how i loved it.

Then I met the other bridesmaids. One is legally blind and you can so tell. She was cool though and me and her were making the cd's for the reception. We got a little carried away and it ended up being a very eclectic mix of country, bluegrass (they are country folk afterall), pop, rock, rap, and r&b. It was a crazy mix that included the electric slide (apparently not just a staple at black weddings), man of constant sorrow (from the "oh brother where art thou" soundtrack) and yes, you guessed it......michael jackson's thriller. It was sad. We weren't even drunk either.

The groom got a little upset when we suggested that the exit song for the bridal procession after the ceremony be "Another One Bites The Dust" so we scratched that. We didn't even rbing up the idea of me and the blind bridesmaid doing an interpretive dance at the reception, we didn't think it would go down too well.

One of the other bridesmaids was fun in that ditzy blonde sort of way. I have nothing against blondes and don't usually subscribe to the blonde stereotype but she was ditzy. She was cute though and i was grateful i could talk to those two bridesmaids because i didn't know anyone but the bride. The maid of honor was pretty but i swear she sounds like that blonde guy off of King of the Hill, Boomhouser or whatever his name is with that super country accent. She sounds just like him. She didn't look especially country and there was a disconnect between her appearance and her voice, it just didn't match. I almost felt like she should have been missing some teeth and been wearing overalls and chewing on piece of hay or something. That's terrible, i know. I'll stop.

I met the groom. I really liked him. He was cute, he gave me a hug and was so nice. I was jealous. Not that i wanted him, but i wanted someone who made me feel the way it looked he made her feel. And someone my friends will love too like i love him. I got a good vibe from him and was glad he was the groom.

The rehearsal was informal and haphazard but it worked out. The only thing is i got eaten alive by friggin mozzies and attacked by nats. Ah, Georgia. Home of every friggin bug you can imagine. Outdoor wedding are fun like that. We had lasagna and cheesecake for dinner. Yum. That all i gots ta say.

I caught myself sounding hella country at times. I dunno why i do that! My accent changes to accomodate whoever i'm with and i was sounding hella redneck at some points. I wonder if anyone else noticed. They must have thought "this black girl sho' is countrified! Is Zimbabwe a country in Africa or is it some little town near Wilacoochie?"

Day of the wedding was hectic. I was steaming all the bridesmaids dresses while they were out getting their hair did. I hadn't thought to ask Red (bride) to make me an appointment and so i had to figure out what to do with my mane myself. We had slept over at her gran's house and when i got up i found a curling iron at the vanity table and helped myself. Is that gross? I wiped it down after i was done. I hope it was Red's and not her gran's. She may just have a stroke f she finds a long black hair on it. Ah well. So I curled my own hair and it looked very 1920s and cute. For about three hours. Then it began to collapse. And we had already left gran's and i didn't have an iron with me. Well damn it all to hell.

So we got dressed and went to the park where the wedding was going to be. They did a good job of decorating. The colours were red, pink and white and they had rose petals everywhere. It was cute. All the bridesmaids looked fabulous in our red gowns if i do say so myself and the groomsmen looked very handsome. Well, very put together anyway. It was wierd how two of them were these skinny Jeff Foxworthy looking guys and the other two were stout Garth Brooks types. Uncanny. My escort was skinny. It was funy because walking down the isle we had to loop our arms in theirs and his was so skinny i couldn't find it under his tux jacket so i just held onto the jacket. I wanted to crack up but thought better of it. I was already "that black girl" at the wedding, i didn't want to stand out anymore.

The ceremony was short, thank goodness. The sun was in the bridesmaids faces and we were being attacked by bugs and our heels were sinking into the ground. It was funny but we kept straight faces. I almost fell over one time as i was trying to get my heels out of the ground discreetly and i stumbled backwards a little. i hope the ditzy bridesmaid who was behind me was the only one that noticed. It was also partly the freakish wind that blew into me and nearly knocked me on my ass but i stayed steady. I was a soldier.

The reception was a little awkward because there was no designated seating for the bridal party and everyone else seemed to have family or something there so i was left on my own, but fortunately the blind bridesmaid was sweet and sat with me and the preacher who had one tooth and was surprisingly eating a lot of food i didn't think his tooth would be able to process. He did it somehow though. I'm still curious about that.

I went home with gran again and she drove me to the airport this morning and now i am back in Texas. It was a really sweet wedding and though i don't do tears, i have always always always teared up when i heard "Butterfly Kisses" as corny as that sounds and she danced with her dad to that. I teared up a little. I won't lie.

I though a lot about marriage. I have never really been to a wedding before, certainly never part of one, except my parent's white wedding (they were already married but in our culture it's a little different and i was two or three when they did the white wedding. I was the flower girl or something and had a dress that matched my mum's).

I want to be married, if only for the wedding bit of it. No, i'm kdding. I really do want to get married though. This weekend clarified that. I know i was all nonchalant about marriage and love and all but i really really really want to marry by sweetheart, my best friend, whoever he will end up being. The down side of the weekend is now my thoughts are all about marriage. Damn it all to hell. Be warned, my posts may gravitate more towards marriage and love. And i am seriously prayinng for a husband now. I just read the most fabulous thing on someone's facebook and i think i'll end with it.

"A woman's heart should be so close to God that a man has to seek Him in order to find her."

Beautiful.

Promotion Not

I'll be the first to admit i have half assed this week at the paper. Editors got really really pissed off today at the meeting and i distinctly felt guilty for my part in it. Message recieved.

But what got to me was the fact several reporters got promoted to staff and i am still contributor. I know, i haven't written as many articles as they have and i have been pretty useless but that didn't stop the sinking feeling.

Again with the whole selfish-what-about-me thinking. Could this prove my theory that i am super self centered? I don't even care about promotion or even the paycheck. I barely even notice that i get paid at the paper. I just see it as something i have to do, not really a paid thing, hence my second job. It was just the principle that i didn't excel. I hate being mediocre, even when i deserve to be regarded as such because of my mediocre performance. It's hypocritical, i know. Don't try and find logic in this train of thought, just climb aboard and enjoy the sights.

I am disappointed that i haven't been working hard enough to get the notice of any one of my superiors. I complained and made excuses and half assed and i am pissed to hell. I want to quit but i do not want to give whatever being i am trying to prove myself to the satisfaction of proving me useless and incapable. I am depressed by all this. Every other reporter it seems it a staff writer.

Shite. It is all shite. I don't care. That's my stance now. I don't give a shite.

Passing craze

So i saw the most beautiful boy today.

It starts.

Ok, i saw him officially for the first time last semester, he was Mr. (insert university name here) and on our school website and i saw him in person at a play during Black History month. HOT. So hot. And involved. Hella involved. I was smitten, he is intelligent, beyond fathomable gorgeocity and right there. So close.

But something made me lose interest last semester and i forgot all about him.

Until i saw him a couple of weeks ago. He came into the store to talk to a classmate of mine who was buying something. I was at the till and i caught my breath when i saw and heard him. Sexy mother...

So i was like, ugh!! So cute but it wasn't that bad you know?

Then today. I was waiting to go to a city council meeting with student government and they were meeting outside Starbucks on campus. I had just gotten off work and i was still in uniform. I walked up to my classmate and she and i were talking about a test we'd had in Comm Law last week and who should emerge from behind her somewhere? You guessed it. Mr. Sexy himself. So me and this girl are talking and i am vaguely aware of my voice sounding more and more strained and my chest becoming tighter and i am horrified that i may just pass out when she stops talking and introduces us. OH. MY. GOSH.

Mr. Sexy shook my hand and i thought it would fall right off. He looked at me. In my horrible glasses and uniform and crazy hair. Crap!!

So i think something in the handshake did it again because i haven't stopped thinking of him all day. But i decided to facebook him and see if the reason i lost interest and forgot all about him was because he was already dating some other disgustingly gorgeous creature of perfection with cute work outfits, pretty hair and sexy glasses.

He is. Mr. Sexy is in a very serious relationship with Mrs. Sexy. It all come back to me when i saw his profile. Oh.

The funny thing is, i saw him last week and though i thought how cute he was, i wasn't phased and really forgot about him until today. But she just had to introduce us. Why the hell did she do that. And though i am over it, i can't help but feel a slight twinge of depression. Why couldn't he be my boyfriend?

I have since decided i am in no position for a boyfriend what with my taking more than a full class load, and working two jobs. Plus my head is not right, i am not mature enough to deal with a real relationship right now despite being 22 going on 23. But it saddened me to realize Mr. Sexy was spoken for. Mrs. Sexy is beautiful and just as involved and smart as he is. They are perfect for each other. And i can't help feeling jealous.

My coworker at the paper just started a new relationship with this gorgeous white guy she met in Latin class. She is super pretty and super focused and determined and 4 years younger than me. Four. When she was telling me all about her man, i put on my "i'm-so-excited-for-you-i-could-burst" face. But i was feeling hella jealous.

What is wrong with me? Why can't i be happy for others even if i don't have what they have? That is not very nice. Am i not a nice person? I know everyone is jealous at some point, but am i honestly that self centered? Wow.

I hate that this depressed me. So Mr. Sexy is not mine. Neither is Morris Chestnut. Big whoop.

Big whoop indeed.

Journalism and me today.

This profession and me have a love hate relationship. I hate it a lot of the time, but after all the stress and all the hair pulling, i see my byline in the paper and i am pleased.

I dunno if i am going to do this forever but today i feel i CAN do this. I just flip back and forthon that everyday but today i feel i can be a good journalist and i am motivated.

Tomorrow i am gonna want to quit and go to law school instead. But i will be back here next time one of my stories is published.

I was so upset that one of my stories was assigned to someone else. It was my story, my idea, my beat. International students. The story was international students surviving in this city without cars or public transportation. I had a major Test Tuesday night. They wanted it for Wednesday's paper, due Tuesday at four. I offered to submit it the next day. They gave it to someone else. I was crushed.

That was my baby you know? My beat, international students, is my baby and i nurture it. It is almost like having someone come in and raise your baby. I am passionate about international students and their woes and joys and all. I am one and i love writing about people like me. So when a story that is mine, goes to someone else and has their byline on it and they are covering and looking after my babies (the international students and their offices) i am upset and i feel i let them down.

Is that sad? I am supposed to be the in house expert on my beat. So if i miss something and don't cover it the way i feel it should be covered, it is not good.

Rant over.

Thursday musings

A guy came in to work today to my register and i did what i always do, I smiled big and asked how he was.

He said i had the perfect smile.

Huh.

That was sweet. Haven't had too much of that this semester. Or perhaps i have been too busy working two jobs and taking 15 hours to notice.

Dad sent me $2000 for a car today. I love my dad. I know money is very tight back home. They haven't paid them in months. MONTHS. But he still sent me money though i am old enough to work that out for myself. He says that is what parents are for.

Thank God for parents like mine.

Now i have to figure out if i can buy a used car for less than $2000 and pay insurance and everything for it. Hmmmn.

We'll see.

Tuesday should have been rainy.

She died today. Last year. But today. I can try and force myself to cry but i don't feel like crying. She's not here to take care of me anymore. Or to just be her anymore. She is not here anymore to be my strength here when my own are so far away.

She's not here and though i don't feel like crying, i feel empty inside today.

I wish it were Wednesday. Because Tuesday means she's not here.

I wasn't going to write a memorial like everyone else on the planet, but i did anyway.

I remember watching the coverage on CNN international back in Zimbabwe. The whole country was ablaze with horror and disbelief. My friends and I didn’t really believe it, it was surreal and seemed like some off colour joke. But it was on every news station in the world and everyone was talking about it. I didn’t feel much of anything at the time. I felt so detached. I thought, “I’m not American, this doesn’t really concern me.”

I realize how harsh and maybe even ignorant that sounds coming from a well-traveled member of the proverbial global village but my reasoning was that terrorism was a global plague that had affected just about everyone BUT the United States up until now. And yet, once America got hit, everyone was supposed to fall over themselves in grief. I was angry.

I didn’t understand how when embassies in Kenya and Tanzania were bombed and both Americans and Africans die in the tragedy, no one really spent two minutes on it. When thousands of innocents were being murdered in ethnic cleansing and mass genocide was taking place in poor countries, people tusk tusked but were quick to move on to more important things. But let America the Almighty get hit and the whole world was expected to shatter lest you be regarded a terrorist.

I thought felt the pain that Americans felt. I really did. The attacks were inhumane and evil. But there was a bitterness I felt that though it was a grave tragedy that needed attention and though those were innocent lives lost needlessly, that somehow the world was regarding this tragedy more important than any other tragedy in the world simply because it was America.

I can not say I was justified in my anger, afterall I was bitter. I did not hate America by any means or wish harm to her people. I was just bitter. But it has taken me five years to come to a turning point in my thinking. After watching the fifth anniversary video, I think I momentarily felt the Armageddon-sized horror people in this country felt the day it happened. In my mind the past five years, I have done everything I can possibly do to challenge what I thought was blind allegiance of most of the world to America. I wanted to prove everyone wrong.

I wanted to show that America brought this on itself. Not in any malicious way, but just to bring what I felt was perspective to this event. Why would someone hate a nation so much that they would take their own life, not to mention the lives of many others, to make their voice heard? Could that really be nonchalantly written off as insanity and an evil religion? Or was there one grain of justification to it all?

Was America to blame for this tragedy? Did this government kill in own people in the name of pushing forward its own agenda? I am not a conspiracy theorist by any means, but I wanted people to consider that perhaps these individuals who undertook this mission to destroy and utterly devastate had felt that America had so viciously destroyed and devastated their own hopes and dreams to the point where they wanted to hurt America as badly as they felt they had been hurt, even if it meant them dying in the process.

I was so busy being annoyed at Americans pointing fingers and effectively isolating anyone who wasn’t committed to their cause that I didn’t have time to notice I was becoming the other extreme, pointing my own fingers. I missed the point by a long shot. It wasn’t about whose nation is bigger and gets more coverage. It wasn’t about the sudden bubble of patriotism that sprang up and around the U.S. and inadvertently isolated the rest of us. It was not about deserving or not deserving a taste of your own medicine or even a taste of the medicine many other nations had been force-fed for centuries.

It wasn’t about Americans not wanting to include the rest of us in their grief because they were too worried “we” would attack them once again, the collective rest of the world that is. They fingerprinted and took my picture at the airport. I was randomly searched and interrogated by airport officials who didn’t understand that I was coming out of Iran because my family HAD to live there and that I was just trying to get an education. I don’t blame them, it was a rough time. But my focus was inward, how this is about me and affects me as a non-American. It wasn’t about any of that.

It was about the humanity of life. Children who didn’t even fully understand right from wrong had their lives involuntarily sacrificed to some inhumane god named Terror. Men and women who didn’t get a chance to tell their loved ones “ You know, I really do love you and hope we never fight again,” were cheated out of a second chance. Loved ones waiting at the airport with flowers and big “Welcome Home” balloons were left stunned and deflated. Someone interviewing for a job at the World Trade Center that morning wasn’t even given a chance. A firefighter doing the right thing and trying to help was left wondering why bad things happen to good people as his life dissolved before his weeping eyes.

I can fight and argue with you all day about the unfairness of the hierarchy of world politics and journalism. I can name ten other global terror attacks before Sept. 11 that came and went without the majority of Americans even hearing about them. I can debate with you and debate with you. But is one person’s life more important than another’s just because of where they are from? Did all these people die in vain? I hope to God they didn’t. Sept. 11 is a time to remember life. And truly a time where patriotism has to be a global reaching effort, not isolated to individual nations and regions. We have to be proud of the world we live in because no matter where we are from, we are still citizens of the world.

red.

I have not had a crush in years. I have gone ape over this man. It scares me how much i think of him. I have fallen hard and he doesn't even know i'm alive.

extreme blackness.

Walking through the ancient village of Abianeh in the south of Iran.

Mumsy in Persepolis.

One of the palaces at Persepolis. This was a magnificent empire i tell you!

Look at me!

Shirin and I on a useless hike to some obscure site that was a dump. We could have stabbed these people.

One of the gorgeous pillars that remain in Persepolis. There were over a hundred and now there are less than 25. Sad.

One of the two carvings of the bulls that used to adorn the "Gate of All Nations" of Persepolis.

What is left of the gate to enter the great ancient city of Persepolis after Alexander the great burnt it down. Bastard.

Wall carving in Persepolis.

Palace interior. Which palace you ask? I forgot. I know. Useless.

They were certainly annoyed but the guide said i could take the picture. Bastard.

Famous Iranian poet Hafez's musoleum, the top.

Mum just smiled and nodded. No idea what she was saying to her.

Local vendor woman enjoying our company.

I can't for the life of me figure out what was so intriguing about this wall.

I liked this door for some reason and little sis didn't get all of it.

Enjoying the view in Abianeh

Little sis in the village of Abianeh near Esfahan Iran.

Welcome back to the good old US of A

My trip went straight to hell before it even began.

Tehran, Iran 3:00 a.m.

Got the the airport in due time to check in for my flight to Amsterdam. Joined a relatively short looking queu and waited. And waited. And waited. And bloody waited. So apparently the guy checking us in was really really slow or something beacause by 5 we were still in line. My light was taking off at 5:50. So we finally get to the front of the queu and the guy does my paperwork, checks in my two bags and gives me my boarding pass and is gone before i can even say thank you. I glance at the boarding pass and realize it is not a boarding pass at all but a summary of the itinerary. Bloody hell.

We had to get the manager to fix it which took fifty forevers. Apparently we were not the only victims of the inept travel assistant. So we waited. And waited. And bloody waited. All the while all the airport people are looking for this guy who has just disappeared into thin air and they all had blood in their eyes. So at 5:40 my stuff is processed and it is off to immigration. That took forever. I got through finally, by the sheer grace of God, and had to go through security and catch the shuttle to my plane. Lovely jubbly.

Because of the error, they put me in first class as a courtesy. Yay! First class rocks my bloody socks off! I dunno how the rest of us lay people manage in coach. They offered me freshly squeezed orange juice in a wine glass as soon as i sat down. She just appeared out of nowhere. I don't like fresh orange juice with pulp but i took it anyway. It's first class you see.

By the time everybody boarded, we were already fifteen minutes late. Then we sat on the runway for an added twenty because of some problem with the air traffic controllers. I should have seen this as a sign for things to come, but i was so busy rolling in business class luxury, i didn't think twice about it. Yay first class. They have a menu. A MENU!! None of that "Chicken or pasta" business like in coach. Honestly. The snack was a gourmet pizza and wine. I mean really! Ok, enough. I've exposed my low rank enough and why i should not be allowed in business class any more. Six hour flight to Amsterdam.

Amsterdam, Netherlands 11:00 a.m.

We got to Amsterdam late. I had an hour between flights and nearly missed the blasted thing because they had not given me a boarding pass in Tehran so i had to find a transfer desk and get one and then go to the gate and board. The lady behind the counter at the transfer desk was a bloody cow. I dunno if it is a Dutch thing, but she was evil incarnate. I could not finish a bloody sentence without her rudely interrupting me and acting as if i were some inept child who purposely delayed my flight. Wanking cow! I really hope she chokes on her own evil attitude and dies.

Made it to my gate and was interrogated as usual when flying to the US. Went through security and boarded. My seat was an isle seat back with the masses in coach class. It was not terrible. Just not business class. Shame, really. Ten hour flight to Detroit.

Somewhere above Detroit 2:15 p.m.

We were late. And i had an hour to make my next flight to Dallas. Something was wrong on the ground so we flew over the airport for twenty minutes.

Detroit, USA 2:25 p.m.

Landed. My next flight was supposed to be boarding. I had to go through customs and immigration first.

Line for immigration, 3:30 p.m.

Missed my flight to Dallas because once again i picked a stupid line that did not move. When i finally got to the front, my immigration process began. You know, being a foreigner re-entering the U.S. is not fun. You feel like a bloody criminal. They take your fingerprints, your picture and ask you all sorts of invasive questions. I know it is their job to protect American borders but they could be a bit nicer about it and not suspect you have a bomb strapped to your chest just because your port of origin was somewhere in the middle east.

Finally got through immigration and moved on to customs where they ask you to get your checked luggage and have it examined and rechecked. I went to get my two bags. Waited. Waited. Waited. Got one bag. Waited. Waited. Bloody well waited till the belt stopped and me and a few other passengers were left standing there stunned and annoyed. They lost my bloody luggage. It's not coming out. It's somewhere between Amsterdam and Detroit. Last i saw it was in Tehran where they mucked up my boarding pass. It may still be there for all i know. PANIC!

Internal panic that is. I have already missed my flight to bloody Dallas. Now they've lost the bigger of my two bags and i still have to go through customs. Ok, don't panic, be strong! Be strong.

Join the line for re-routing flights. They tell me i am flying to Cincinatti and then to Dallas later on tonight. I stand there agog. Are you serious? Yes ma'am, that is the only way we can get u to Dallas tonight. I don't even remember what state Cincinatti is in. Ok, fine.

Go through customs, rude ass woman doing the bags. Go to hell is what i would like to tell her but i don't. Now i have to go through security. Brilliant. Just what i need. And of course i have been "randomly" selected to have an extra security search (funny how i am ALWAYS randomly selected isn't it? Always.). They made me walk through this strange metal detector-looking thing that blows air up and down your body. I have had to do it before so it wasn't shock, just amazement. What the fuck is the point of the air thing? No clue. Give me strength Lord Jesus to stop cussing internally and to have peace.

Then they opened all my hand luggage and search it. I am too tired to be upset by this point. I just want to get to a bed.

So i waited for my flight to bloody Ohio. Boarded and everthing seemed fine. Only one more leg to go. One hour flight.

Cincinatti, Ohio 6:30 p.m.

Got to the airport. In Detroit they had not given me a boarding pass to Dallas so i had to look for Delta and get one. Got to the right desk and apparently they had mucked up some Air France flight so about eight thousand people were already in line. Fun times. Finally got to the front of the line only to discover with glee that Detroit had forgotten to even BOOK me on the flight to Dallas. Will this never end? Luckily for me, the flight was not full so they found me a seat. Well three cheers for that.

Dallas, Texas 9:44 p.m.

Landed. Yay. Got my one bag that was checked in Detroit. Yay. Went to Northwest to file a claim for my missing bag. They told me to go back the fifteen thousand miles i had gone to file the claim with Delta because they delivered me to Dallas. Those were her exact words, delivered. She was a cow. She was rude and annoying. Choke on rocks lady. And die slowly.

Went back to Delta and filed the claim with a very nice older gentleman who was so nice, i felt better. Went home, finally. Got in at 11:30. Called mum and dad and told them i was here and about my ordeal. Went to bed. My trip form hell was over. Now all i needed was to wait for my missing bag.

Welcome to bloody America, hope you enjoy your stay, thank you for doing business with us.

View of Esfahan from Ali Qapu Palace rooftop

This is my favourite picture of the Congregational Mosque in Esfahan

Two iranian girls enjoying the view

I thought this was cute

Some of the murals on the walls of Chehel Sotun Palace

Mum looking out from Shahrestan bridge

We were in a traditional Persian teahouse at Chehel Sotun Palace

This was on my favourite bridge in Esfahan

Khaju bridge view

Art majors restoring Chehel Sotun Palace, Esfahan

Abbasi Hotel, Esfahan

Allahverdi Khan bridge at dusk

Handicrafts cloth printer at Naqsh-e Jahan Square in Esfahan

Farai and I on Shahrestan Bridge in Esfahan

Travels nd Breakups: A Brief

We just got back from Esfahan, a city in the south of Iran and i am beyond words. I was beautiful. I wrote my friend Clark about it and figured i'll just cut and paste the description here to give you an idea of what it was like until i write up the article. I'll also post some pictures of it but here is part of my email to Clark:

I just got back today from Isfahan in the south of Iran and it is so incredibly beautiful! Oh my Goodness! I never thought there would be a place in Iran that i would deem a very very romantic place but this city did it for me. It is an old city, former capitol at some point in Iranian history. Anyway, it is this clean, very Middle Eastern city that is alive with this festive atmosphere to it. Tourist attraction definately. The city is built around this huge river and one of the trademarks are the twelve or so bridges on this river, all spectacularly intricate in design. Our hotel was at the mouth of one of these bridges, my favourite bridge of all that we saw. At night it is lit up with these gorgeous orange lights and there are these arches all along it where you can see the river through it. The walkway itself is laid with bricks or cobblestone and is very olden day, reminiscent of the days of monarchies and carriages. Ugh!! I fell in love.

We went to see a bunch of ancient palaces and mosques and the like. Oh my goodness Clark, it was so beautiful and the genius of the designs shamwari! I mean, they had special designs to prevent vibrations from earthquakes from destroying the bulidings and they had these complicated irrigation sysytems and their gardens were mathmetically calculated and all this was in the early 11th-17th centuries. They even have the first human geometrical houses ever bulit. I mean, what the hell were Africans doing back in the 11th century? Why did not we not see the need to preserve out history like these people did? I mean, i know we have a lot to offer, but once you see thier stuff, how old it is and how well preserved, unotonyara. Isusu taitei kho nai? I was mesmerized once again.

I won't talk your ear off (or should i say your eyes off) but i was really impressed. I'll send you some pictures if you like. Loved my trip. Loved it.

The article will be much more in depth and descriptive, i promise.


I just broke it off with Mo. Yes that was his name unfortunately. a nickname in any case, but what he was known by. That should have been my first warning right? I never felt right about it. I was lonely and desperate and agreed to be with him in a moment of rash confusion. I have had a lot of time out here to reflect and i came to a conclusion i seem to stumbled upon fairly often.

I am a deluded moron. I really am. Why on earth would we work? We do not click on a deep level and quite frankly he is a useless individual at the moment. That does not mean he is a bad person or doesn't have potential but do i really have time to make a project of him? Do i really have the desire. No. I don't. Sorry if that makes me a mean cow, but i don't.

So i sent him an email. I know, that is terrible but that is what i did. I figured, why wait till i get to the States right? I told him i thought us dating was a bad idea and that i needed to sort myself out, which is not a lie. I do. And i do not like hanging out with him. I didn't tell him that of course. But if i must really think of it, i was forcing matters with him. I am not into him, i was lonely. Period. That makes me a sad and very daft cow i realize, but i made my decision and sent the email. No turning back yeah?

Oh dear.

Post Op

So i had my surgery yesterday. Doctor said it was successful. Now i am walking around with a bitter taste in my mouth whenever i drink coke and a huge gauze over m right eye taped with scotch tape. And things are itching under there. Annoying meto insanity. Plus i am geting a headache every hour cuzi am strainging m left eye. And the right one feels like smething is leaking. I think it is a combination of tears and blood. Delicious thought in't it? It hurts a litle, especiallinbright lights and i hae this invalid feling. I go back to the the doctos this afernoon to et the bandage remove and the eye checked ou. Ok it is really itching by my eyebrow nnow. I'mgoing insan.

Germany plays Italy today. I bet Germany as my second team after Brazil, thinking Brazil would make it. I am not a huge Germany fan but since they are on home soil, i think they are determinedto make t to the final. He is rooting for Italy. We have a bet on that. I don't eally care aymore.Brazil lost and that did it for me. Anyway, we'll se tonight.

Heartbreak on the football pitch

They lost. They bloody lost. They are on their way home.

I'm speaking of Brasil of course. My team. The team i was sure would be in the final. They lost to the bloody French. There are no South American teams left in the tournament, just Europeans. I am disgusted really. Brasil so disappointed me last night. The game they played was lax.

They played scared. Because France always beats them. Like they did in the finals in 1998. So i think this huge powerhouse team saw France as it's boogeyman. It's cryptonite so to speak. And they played a dismal game. I was in shock throughout. I was appalled. They all played terribly. France had the possession most of the game and whenever Brasil had it, they did not know what to do with themselves. Like they forgot how to bloody play the game. And their formation was off. They should have had Adriano in earlier than they did. Him and Robinho. Ronaldo kept tripping over himself the whole game and Ronaldinho was useless as striker, he should have been midfield. Ugh.

Anyway, i have to support bloody France for the final now because they are likely to play Germany for it. Sad sad day in football.

My surgery was postponed. Apparently the corneas they had in that day were of "poor quality" according to my doctor. That worries me a bit but at least he said so and so i am going back tomorrow and that is when i wil go under the knife. I just want to get it over and done with.

Was in Dubai for the past week with mum, the sibs and D. She wanted to see mum since it has been over ten years and so we went. We stayed at the Hilton on Jumeira beach. Gorgeous. Spent time on the beach, shopping and such. It is hotter than the devil's balls out there, excuse the analogy. It was deathly humid all the time and then freezing inside cuz they had the air conditioners working overtime. But you got used to both actually.

Long story short, it was beautiful and i had a really good time. Also went to the Burj al Arab for drinks the last night. The only supposed seven star hotel in the world. The other two stars are not real, just to hype it up. I have always wanted to go to this hotel but it is super posh and super expensive. You have to pay a cover just to enter the hotel and you have to dress smart casual. No sneakers and such.

Wasn't terribly impressed by the skyview bar where we had drinks. It was on the 27th floor and had a little bit if swank to it's game but the ceiling was incredibly tacky to me and threw the whole thing off for me. It was a bunch of these disco inferno type coloured lights that did not go with the smooth sophistication it should have portrayed. It just hit me the wrong way.

The view of the city was gorgeous though. I loved it. One side of the bar/restaurant was all glass overlooking a sprawling, twinkling city in the Arab desert. The chairs were silly looking with this horrible square bullseye design on the back.

One thing i have to say is the food was great. We had a vegetarian platter. It was delicious. The drinks were a tad overpriced for my liking. Overdone. D had a rose martini. Basically straight vodka with rose petals floating on top. It was.....well not as great as i thought it would be. I had a rude tini. Apple martini with a mint leaf or two in it. It was very very minty. Then we had this New Zealand white wine i think. I forgot the name of it. It was ok. Not a big drinker so i dunno if i would have loved it. Anyway the hotel seems nice but i am still curious as to why the seven stars. D said we are gonna have to come back and actually stay there for a night. Even though it will cost about a million dollars plus.

Anyway, Dubai as usual was fun, a nice escape. Now i am back in Iran. Whoopeee. And Brasil lost. Even better. This week is gonna suck.

Tomorrow

Ok. So it's tomorrow. Dad jut paid for everything and the doctor is expecting me tomorrow for the surgery. Tomorrow. Hmmn.

Mum and the lil sis are in Dubai and if this had been scheduled for later, i had hoped to go for a day and see them, but it's tomorrow.

It's been six years since i had surgery. Since i was put to sleep. It is so much easier when you ar a kid you know? Kid's are resilient creatures. Almost fearless at times compared to grown ups.

Me? No, I'm not worried. No. I'm not.

I'm not.

But my mind, body and soul seem to be. I am having mild heart palpitations which is silly because i know i'll be fine. I'll be fine. Just routine. No biggie. I've done this more than once before.

I'm not worried.

What is going on?

So life back home is three steps away from hell it seems. My Grandfather’s younger sister just died today. But the back story is what really gets me. Apparently she collapsed on Thursday. She was in the rural areas (village, what we call kumusha in my language). She went to the fence between her place and the neighbor’s and called the garden boy so she could borrow matches. He brought them to her and as she was turning around to leave, she collapsed.

They took her to some hospital in the capital and the nurses said there were no doctors available to see her right away so they put her on a stretcher in the hallway. It was around 7 p.m. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Still no doctor had seen her and she was lying in a coma on the stretcher in the hallway

5 a.m. Five in the bloody morning! That is when they saw her. She had been lying in the hall for the night without any attention. A woman in a coma. No doctors they said. Finally they got her a bed

Sunday my grandfather, who is an Anglican priest and her brother, went to see her around ten in the morning. The nurses stopped him at the door and said he could not go in. He was arguing with them, saying that he always goes in to pray with the patients and this was his sister for goodness sakes. The matron came and said no, you cannot come in. They said that there were so many priests these days, they didn’t know who was for real and who wasn’t.

She died today. Two hours ago. Kidney failure they said.

My point? There were no doctors at one of the big hospitals in the capital city of the country. NO DOCTORS. None available.

What has my country come to? This place I was born and raised. This place I think about everyday. That I want to go home to someday. What is there to go home to? Our inflation at the moment is 1140%. Do you even know what that MEANS? I sure as hell didn’t.

That is Z$350,000 to US$1. That means bread is Z$130,000-150,000 per loaf. A chicken is Z$1.7 million. It costs Z$18 million a month to go to the high school I graduated from. Our house is worth billions.

And the disparity between prices and salaries? Well, let us begin at the bottom of the barrel with the maids and garden boys (common in my country, practically everyone has one of each, or at least that is the way it was when I was at home) who make Z$2.7 million a month. That translates to about US$77 a month. School is not free at any level for anyone whatsoever and the government schools (what Americans refer to as public schools) are around Z$5 million per term. So tell me, if you are taking home Z$2.7 million a month and you have children or one child even who needs to go to school and you have to eat and live and wear clothing, what in hell do you do?

My dad and his colleagues have not been paid in months. MONTHS! Because the government “says” it has no funds.

And yet every minister of parliament demands a new car, a Mercedes no less, and they go on holiday out of the country, a luxury normal people cannot even fathom. They go to see the doctor in bloody South Africa! That is why when something like this happens, they don’t care. They do not try and fix the situation at all. They do not try and make sure their doctors are paid and not on strike. Or are just THERE!

How can there be no doctors? DOCTORS? My country was known as the “Breadbasket of Southern Africa” not so long ago. The Z$500 bill was the biggest denomination when I was home three years ago. Now we have a Z$100,000 bill. In three years. We were unsurpassed by everyone except South Africa.

My entire age group, the ones lucky enough to have money for a plane ticket out, is non existent in the country. All the professionals live in Australia, the UK, America, China, South Africa. Our doctors are treating Americans and Europeans. Our businessmen and women are making money for foreign countries. Our lawyers defending western criminals. Our educated elite, cleaning toilets in London for lack of an otion.

And the poor bastards left in the country are dealing with inflation, western sanctions, no doctors and no fuel, which when there, costs an arm, a leg and half your kidney. And let us not forget AIDS which has claimed three lives dangerously close to me.

My country has gone to the dogs, literally and no one is helping. We are drowning right there in front of the world’s eyes and no one is paying attention. They are focused on getting Mugabe (our president) out BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY and are blind to the pain and suffering of the lay people who did nothing to bring this damnation upon our heads.

I am one of the lucky ones. I live in America, going to university with money my parents do not really have. I pine for home every single day, but what would I be going home to? The country I was born and raised in, the country I love more than any other place on earth (and, mind you, I have been to many places) has gone to the dogs.

And I am disgusted.

I think he is wicked sexy! And a great player too. Go Adriano!

Go Brazil!

We're official. I am his girl. He's my baby. We're officially official.

For the most part. It worries me a bit that our officiality happened while we were on two different continents. That was my fault. I think if looked into, it is me wanting as much distance and being comfortable to make such a decision simply because i know i do not have to face it for real everyday. I am far away for a long time. Well, a month and a half now. So i am okay with making that decision. I can be his girl while i am poncing around the middle east and not going to see him for a couple of months right? My counsellor said i do this with every aspect of my life. I am terrified to death of failure and thus the procrastination and the waffling and the perfectionism that goes to the extreme where i want so badly for something to be perfect that i tell myself i can never make it perfect and so i don't even bother with it or i procrastinate about it.

I think my counsellor has been watching Dr. Phil.

Anyway less analysing, more celebrating. I have my first official boyfriend. Yay. I'm sorry, i dunno why i am not more enthused about this. I know it is not a big deal, but to me it should. Or at least i always wanted it to be. Okay, stop stop stop.

I am having surgery on my right eye next week somtime. Again. For the umpteenth time. But hopefully this is the last time. Am i worried? No. Should i be? Perhap. I dunno. We'll have to see about that. Okay i don't feel like blogging today. I'll do this later.

The greatest game on the planet

It is World Cup season finally! There really is no other sport worth watching than football. No wonder it is the number one most popular sport worldwide.

I love watching the game. It is exciting, inspiring, emotional. And the men are drop-dead-shut-your-mouth sexy! Athletic men are so hot to me. Broad shoulders, sexy thick thighs, long hair and all. I love it!!

We are watching Iran v. Mexico right now, and though i am in Iran, i am rooting for Mexico. Sorry, but that is my team in this match. They just tied it 1-1 and it's now halftime. I can just imagine the craziness that will definately ensue IF Iran wins this match. They were already making noise in anticipation this afternoon, driving around blasting music, honking horns and screaming with their flag painted on thier faces.

I have to say I was disappointed that Zim didn't qualify, by a hair. Had we qualified....!!! I can't even begin to imagine the excitement. I would have been crazy, painting my face and all! I so wish i were there man!!

Oooh! They are coming back to the field! second half. Fingers crossed for Mexico!!

Venga Mexico! Viva Mexico!

Pissy the dozey cow

He went out with my ocusins last night (Saturday night). He said it was the last time for a long time because they are a little out of control at times. Whatever, his perogative. They went down to Austin to see my other cousin D. Ok. So what right?

I was talking to him before they got on the road. It was nice and i was missing him and wanting to be with him just then. He said he'd leave me a message, before he started drinking. I flinched a bit. Sure, i mean he can do thatif he likes. At least one sober one before i get crazy drunk messages from him right?

So i check my messages the next day. Nothing. Cool. Whatever. I check a few hours later. Three drunk messages. For some reason that pissed me the hell off. I mean, why is it necessary for him to get smashed off his face at all? What for? I never understand why people willingly get drunk. Now, i am not trying to be judgemental. Americans have a thing about 'don't judge me!" an all that crap! So, it isn't what i am doing. I am simply wondering why that was necessary.

Whatever, i think i am just in another pissy mood and needed something to blame it on.

Just Do It

Nike had it so right.

So i just sent him an email. Right after i got off the phone with him. I was in a bitchy mood and he got on my nerves. Then i felt bad and dropped him an email telling him i wanted to be his and that i was slightly off my head and don't mind my crazy moody moments and that i hated his habit. Apparently brooding does nothing. So i laid it out there for him. Granted it'll be days till he checks his email, but still. I told him. So now we wait.

My family is so freaking messed up. Ok, traditionally when a person dies, it is their children that handle the funeral stuff and the wake and the funeral is held at their oldest child's home (this is Zim we're talking about, not all funerals are at funeral homes) Ok. so my family then. My great grandfather had about eight kids. Miriam died. Betty (my grandmother) is in Germany where she's lived for over thirty years. Robert and Kingston live in America where they have lived over twenty years. Julia is sick. First breast cancer and now AIDS. Nora is mentally unstable. John is a crook but otherwise healthy. Kenneth is the oldest, married to a witch of a woman and useless with a long string of totally useless kids of his own, all of working and marrying ages. Right. According to our tradition, care of the parents falls on the resposibility of the oldest. Kenneth. Living in somewhat poverty with a bunch of unemployed, demented kids who are so freaking useless it makes me weak just thinking about it.

During my great grandparent's old age, not one of their kids stepped up to take care of them. Ok, i take that back. Betty, Miriam and Robert did. Financially. They were out of the country and could only send money and plead with the family to take care of them. Kenneth, the oldest, hardly visited. Due to his wife, the dozey cow! John is a crook. That sums it up really. Nora was mentally unstable, i am not sure what her deal was really. Julia was in the village with them when her life fell apart and her deadbeat husband left but then she started getting sick. Kingston was useless even before he moved to the States. So the old folks were in a bit of a fix.

Lucky for them, and everyone else, my mum loved the old folks because they were the only ones who ever really loved her from the time she was little. Everyone else was appallingly cruel to her, including her own dozey sister who was very cruel growing up. Her uncles were mean to her. Her dad abandoned her. The only man to every love her, and rather celestially at that, was her grandad. She was his favourite and she regarded him as her dad. So when she got married, she took care of him. For the last few years when the old folks have really been ill, she was the one there for them. That is, whenever we were in Zim. But even when we were not, those old folks would have perished had it not been for mum pushing those at home to care for them.

My mother is a remarkable woman. Caring to the brim, but she is the type of woman that commands nothing but the most reverential respect. Perhaps at times to the point of fear. I believe a lot of my family members are scared of her. Quite a number of people are, though she is really sweet, but she don't play.

So now he has died and it's crazy. They are having the funeral thing at my mum's sister's home because she was taking care of the old folks while mum was over in the middle east. No where near as good at it as mu, was. That isn't me saying that either, everyone felt really worried when dad got posted here and mum had to leave care of the old folks to the remaining family members who are about as useful as a chocolate teapot in the desert.

I dunno, it is all very ad. I started this post wanting to delve deep into this issue but all of a sudden i feel bored. This entry is rather useless actually. Hmmn. Well done me.