It’s been what? 5 months since I last posted a blog article and I’m sure some of ‘them’ (we all know them) must have been snickering behind my back, educating others on how they (them) always knew I was a fluke. When I set out in January 2011 to really be dedicated to blogging, I never believed the intent behind that decision will be achieved 7 months later neither did I even imagine that the last blog entry will be on the subject it was about.
I didn’t run out of words to put together and give to you in the form of articles. What I’ve always prayed for and got is what has kept me away from hanging out with you via the blog. The last 8months, I’ve been living my dream and except for some minute details I never would have known back when I was dreaming; every other thing has been lovely. I feel blessed to have been able to live a part of the dream and at this rate the dream just keeps being lived, not by a dream snatcher but by the dreamer, myself. So from now, feel free to call me ‘the dreamer’.
I know sometimes when you read my articles, you all wonder why this boy (the Dreamer) always talk like he is an authority on the subject of healthy existential living. I’m not an authority on the subject but I’m an encyclopedia of diverse life experiences which gives me an understanding of a lot of life issues. I’ve come to realize that the wisest men are the most foolish. Ask, ‘why?’ the route they have taken or they take to arrive at the knowledge that makes them wise (am I saying I’m a wise guy?)
So 3 paragraphs on and I’ve still not hinted on what I’ve been doing this whole while that has kept from blogging and at the same time made me feel lucky (by virtue of me living my dream). You won’t believe it but it’s……….work x_x. You know that saying about ‘how God brings some people into your life for a purpose’ and that other one about ‘God sending people and not spirits or angels to your rescue’? I’m a living testament to both these wise cracks. There’s this girl I met sometime in 2006 and we finally really started hanging out in 2009, let’s call her Chigo. She was the bridge that was to transport me from my dream into my reality. It took 2 years for her to actualize this purpose though she didn’t even know what her mission was in my life.
I started hanging out with Chigo in 2009 like I said and some 6 months later, I was in love or so I thought. Whilst I was busy ‘toasting’ and chasing Chigo about thinking she was the angel assigned to make me love again, I totally skipped the detail. It wasn’t my negligence though, I guess the time just wasn’t right. Anyways somehow somehow, Chigo fulfilled her part in the movie called my life and I doubt that she’ll be playing a role anymore, at least not a prominent one. She got me the connect that turned my dreams into reality. The dream; as a result of my passions, music especially and literature to a larger extent, I always looked up to a certain group of people. These guys, I grew up reading about and familiarizing with via their works. I won’t throw names around to impress you but I work for one of them, have met two, no three? Even four of the others through the job sef.
What I just realized whilst writing this is that, had I met this guy earlier than I did, I definitely wouldn’t have been able to hold it down. See I used to be a cocky and heady F’er. A series of experience actually broke me down completely for God to remold. Ask anyone that knows me from back then, I was the ‘mother of motherfuckers’. The first lesson in my remodeling was some school issue, and then in October 1st, 2010 I had an experience I’ve never shared with anyone. I was using myself as a specimen, checking out the reaction of simultaneous application of stimulant (coca cola) and depressant (ganja plus codeine) on my body. 30 minutes later, a mild case of heart attack was the result. The next phase of my remodeling was in January 2011. I traveled out (to Cotonou lol!) and whilst away, I started experimenting with some controlled substance. This fucked my mind up for a while and rendered me timid as I wasn’t sure of myself anymore.
All these experiences catalyzed the change but the crowning moment was October 2011. I had been looking forward to my dad’s return cause I love and missed him but also because he was bringing me a new phone (BB) which I badly needed as the one I had prior to then had packed up. 9 days after he arrived, he died (I know, not again abi?). All of these occurrences have influenced in bits, my new approach to life. Your life (myself included) is not yours to do as you like with, use it well cause when the owner returns, you’ll have to account for every second of it (time is the unit of life right?). God help us all!! ‘What’s reality if you never get to live it?’
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, November 10, 2011
A TRIBUTE TO MY PAPA
Daddy was a miracle, so said the doctors and nurses at the hospital where he had been receiving chemotherapy treatments in Canada, diagnosis revealed that he had leukemia. God finally had mercy on him and called Dad to His place of rest on the 13th of October 2011, a year after he was first diagnosed with the disease. Dad was 51 at the time of his death; he had studied finance at Indiana state university and proceeded to work at some notable establishments including Macy stores, New York. He is survived by his wife, we the kids (3 of us), friends and family, and NO enemy.
Dad was a lover and a fighter. He loved his family and friends so much, he always tried to carry everyone along even when it wasn’t so convenient for him to. Dad had to fight for every good thing he had in life. He always told us that he didn’t want us, his kids to go through the type of suffering he had to withstand. I remember a particular story he told me one time, about how he used to wait back in the university library, to copy complete text books into notebooks because he couldn’t afford to own them outrightly. He recalled the first winter he experienced as a freshman at Indiana state university. How his toes would go numb from chill because his budget made winter boots a luxury he couldn’t afford. Dad fought the disease in his veins with every ounce of strength he had till God decided it was time for him to rest.
Dad was a perfect gentleman. From his grooming, to his manners and disposition, Dad was the poster boy for ‘perfect gentleman’. His lover for so many years, Mum can testify to this. Despite the fact that they have their differences and misunderstandings, he never raised his hands up to abuse her physically. One of his strongest points was his looks and appearance. Always clad in top of the range clothing and accessories, much of my taste for the finer things in life was acquired from Dad. He did most of the shopping for my clothing needs and as such, helped in carving my style. Safe to say that dad made me fly.
Enterprising is one of the stellar traits that set Dad apart from his peers. From teenage, Dad was already on his grind. By the time he turned 21 and gained admission into the university, he had already held down 3 different jobs, one of which was as a staff of the Federal Office of Statistics and another as a sales rep. at Leventis. From very young, he had his hands in a couple of ventures; he owned a small poultry which he managed and operated on his own, he was investing heavily in music records and sound equipments (this led to him picking up the art of DJing since high school). Put Dad in a circle and tell him to find 90 degree angles, he will.
Dad was a disciplinarian. I can’t recall him ever beating me for misbehaving but still, he had a way of instilling fear in me. Whenever he wasn’t around and I err somehow, all Mum had to do to set me straight was to inform me that she already told Dad about my exploits. I heard when he was younger he never shied away from using the rod on his younger ones when they messed up, but as he grew older, he must have found other ways of disciplining. These he applied to full effect in my case and that of my younger ones.
Dad was a trendsetter amongst his peers. I can go on about all the things tat Dad was. We the kids are of a unanimous opinion that Dad is the bestest Dad in the world. He is my motivation. Now I'll try to bring Dad back to life in everything i do. I'm trying on the shoes you left behind, i know someday, they'll fit.
Dad was a lover and a fighter. He loved his family and friends so much, he always tried to carry everyone along even when it wasn’t so convenient for him to. Dad had to fight for every good thing he had in life. He always told us that he didn’t want us, his kids to go through the type of suffering he had to withstand. I remember a particular story he told me one time, about how he used to wait back in the university library, to copy complete text books into notebooks because he couldn’t afford to own them outrightly. He recalled the first winter he experienced as a freshman at Indiana state university. How his toes would go numb from chill because his budget made winter boots a luxury he couldn’t afford. Dad fought the disease in his veins with every ounce of strength he had till God decided it was time for him to rest.
Dad was a perfect gentleman. From his grooming, to his manners and disposition, Dad was the poster boy for ‘perfect gentleman’. His lover for so many years, Mum can testify to this. Despite the fact that they have their differences and misunderstandings, he never raised his hands up to abuse her physically. One of his strongest points was his looks and appearance. Always clad in top of the range clothing and accessories, much of my taste for the finer things in life was acquired from Dad. He did most of the shopping for my clothing needs and as such, helped in carving my style. Safe to say that dad made me fly.
Enterprising is one of the stellar traits that set Dad apart from his peers. From teenage, Dad was already on his grind. By the time he turned 21 and gained admission into the university, he had already held down 3 different jobs, one of which was as a staff of the Federal Office of Statistics and another as a sales rep. at Leventis. From very young, he had his hands in a couple of ventures; he owned a small poultry which he managed and operated on his own, he was investing heavily in music records and sound equipments (this led to him picking up the art of DJing since high school). Put Dad in a circle and tell him to find 90 degree angles, he will.
Dad was a disciplinarian. I can’t recall him ever beating me for misbehaving but still, he had a way of instilling fear in me. Whenever he wasn’t around and I err somehow, all Mum had to do to set me straight was to inform me that she already told Dad about my exploits. I heard when he was younger he never shied away from using the rod on his younger ones when they messed up, but as he grew older, he must have found other ways of disciplining. These he applied to full effect in my case and that of my younger ones.
Dad was a trendsetter amongst his peers. I can go on about all the things tat Dad was. We the kids are of a unanimous opinion that Dad is the bestest Dad in the world. He is my motivation. Now I'll try to bring Dad back to life in everything i do. I'm trying on the shoes you left behind, i know someday, they'll fit.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
IS DRINKING=CHILLING?
For me it started when I was in s.s.s.1. I was a student at a government high school that offered boarding house arrangements for interested students. Being a state government school, the student body comprised kids from diverse background and upbringing, from different works of life. The first time I had to knuckle up in self defense, was whilst I was a student at that school. So also was my first ever school year without finishing in the top 3 tier in class. By the end of junior year I had settled in and made so many friends, some of whom I’ve being able to retain to this present day, others I’ve lost contact with. One of the persons I was friends with is Emmanuel, nick named ‘notorious’ or ‘noto’. He was a year ahead in class but he was years ahead of me in experience. Noto was a habitual offender, always breaking one school rule or the other. Despite this, he was a very sweet person, arguably one of the nicest persons I’ve ever known.
There was this mid-term break we had in my first year in senior high, the break was for a period of 4 days. I decided to stay back in school for some reason. Anyway, to fill the long hours of each day with activities, we sometimes resort to hiking and exploring the surrounding settlements that were primitive. On one of such trips during this break, I left school in the company of Noto who was also staying back in school for the break. Whilst outside, he took charge of navigating us around and he showed a good knowledge of the routes. After hiking for a while, we arrived at a compound where everyone exchanged pleasantries with Noto and addressed him by his moniker. We were offered sits and without prior enquiry, offered cups of palm wine. I was familiar with this substance so I had no qualm with accepting the offering and helping myself to its content. When our supposed host noticed we were done with that, he poured us both a healthy measure of something else that was transparent. I followed Noto’s lead by taking a mouth full but alas! It didn’t taste at all like how I anticipated. In fact, it hurt my mouth and I didn’t want to swallow, Noto noticed my reaction and started laughing. In order to save face, I forced the substance down my throat knowing well from the smell, that what I just had was hard liquor and this was unfamiliar territory for me. In no time the liquor took effect and I started seeing things. I requested that we leave for school immediately and he obliged. That was the longest walk of my life despite the close proximity of where we were to our school premises. On getting to school, I went straight to bed. That was my first time consuming alcohol.
My second experience was during the summer break of that school year. My girl friend at the time, came to my house and requested that I accompany her to her friend’s house at festac. On getting there, our host offered to take us out for refreshments. Whilst the girls ordered food, I ordered for a bottle of ‘small stout’. I guess I was trying to impress the girls by posturing like a grown up. I had to go through the ordeal of swallowing most of the bitter content of the bottle. On our way home, I slept for most of the ride back. By the time I was through with high school, I had become a seasoned casual drinker.
The other day I was on twitter, mr badt guy tweeted a question, ‘Is drinking=chilling?’ He actually drinks too but then, I understood the reason why he must have tweeted that. These days, getting high one way or the other is the most common recreation amongst youths these days. Be it at the beach, in the club, at a local bar, or even at home. You hear boys bragging about how much alcohol they can consume at a sitting. Please don’t get me wrong, I have no qualm with drinking at all, but when drinking becomes the high point of your recreational routine, there is a problem then. Ladies can testify to this. As a lady, have you ever visited a male friend and then he takes you to a bar to entertain you? Especially ladies that don’t drink. The best guys like this can do is, take her to a posh bar and make her sit idly whilst he along with is friends, guzzle bottle after bottle of alcohol and gist noisily. If she’s lucky, she’ll own a BB and use that in whiling away the boring time.
These days, you see boys using pictures with outrageous numbers of bottles of alcohol, as their d.p. on BBm to brag (in their minds, they are chilling). Whatever happened to other forms of recreation like visiting the zoo (Oops! There are none operational), the museum, concerts, entertainment events, the beach (for other fun activities)? etc. For those of us artistically inclined, there are private galleries in operation these days as well as private libraries with multimedia functions to explore. Alcohol shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind when we think relaxation. Let’s try to be creative when drawing up plans for recreation or a date. Trying out other fun stuffs will aid in stimulating our minds, which in turn will enable our creative juices to flow freely. How you relax speak volumes of your level of exposure and style.
Personally, I’ve missed a lot of beautiful Saturday and Sunday mornings because of alcohol laden prior nights. Whilst in search of the ideal relaxation routine, you can like to stop at G12 in Oniru or Eldorado at Elegushi, where you can catch me with my skunk and bottle of absolute vodka, Lol! I’m just kidding o!
There was this mid-term break we had in my first year in senior high, the break was for a period of 4 days. I decided to stay back in school for some reason. Anyway, to fill the long hours of each day with activities, we sometimes resort to hiking and exploring the surrounding settlements that were primitive. On one of such trips during this break, I left school in the company of Noto who was also staying back in school for the break. Whilst outside, he took charge of navigating us around and he showed a good knowledge of the routes. After hiking for a while, we arrived at a compound where everyone exchanged pleasantries with Noto and addressed him by his moniker. We were offered sits and without prior enquiry, offered cups of palm wine. I was familiar with this substance so I had no qualm with accepting the offering and helping myself to its content. When our supposed host noticed we were done with that, he poured us both a healthy measure of something else that was transparent. I followed Noto’s lead by taking a mouth full but alas! It didn’t taste at all like how I anticipated. In fact, it hurt my mouth and I didn’t want to swallow, Noto noticed my reaction and started laughing. In order to save face, I forced the substance down my throat knowing well from the smell, that what I just had was hard liquor and this was unfamiliar territory for me. In no time the liquor took effect and I started seeing things. I requested that we leave for school immediately and he obliged. That was the longest walk of my life despite the close proximity of where we were to our school premises. On getting to school, I went straight to bed. That was my first time consuming alcohol.
My second experience was during the summer break of that school year. My girl friend at the time, came to my house and requested that I accompany her to her friend’s house at festac. On getting there, our host offered to take us out for refreshments. Whilst the girls ordered food, I ordered for a bottle of ‘small stout’. I guess I was trying to impress the girls by posturing like a grown up. I had to go through the ordeal of swallowing most of the bitter content of the bottle. On our way home, I slept for most of the ride back. By the time I was through with high school, I had become a seasoned casual drinker.
The other day I was on twitter, mr badt guy tweeted a question, ‘Is drinking=chilling?’ He actually drinks too but then, I understood the reason why he must have tweeted that. These days, getting high one way or the other is the most common recreation amongst youths these days. Be it at the beach, in the club, at a local bar, or even at home. You hear boys bragging about how much alcohol they can consume at a sitting. Please don’t get me wrong, I have no qualm with drinking at all, but when drinking becomes the high point of your recreational routine, there is a problem then. Ladies can testify to this. As a lady, have you ever visited a male friend and then he takes you to a bar to entertain you? Especially ladies that don’t drink. The best guys like this can do is, take her to a posh bar and make her sit idly whilst he along with is friends, guzzle bottle after bottle of alcohol and gist noisily. If she’s lucky, she’ll own a BB and use that in whiling away the boring time.
These days, you see boys using pictures with outrageous numbers of bottles of alcohol, as their d.p. on BBm to brag (in their minds, they are chilling). Whatever happened to other forms of recreation like visiting the zoo (Oops! There are none operational), the museum, concerts, entertainment events, the beach (for other fun activities)? etc. For those of us artistically inclined, there are private galleries in operation these days as well as private libraries with multimedia functions to explore. Alcohol shouldn’t be the first thing that comes to mind when we think relaxation. Let’s try to be creative when drawing up plans for recreation or a date. Trying out other fun stuffs will aid in stimulating our minds, which in turn will enable our creative juices to flow freely. How you relax speak volumes of your level of exposure and style.
Personally, I’ve missed a lot of beautiful Saturday and Sunday mornings because of alcohol laden prior nights. Whilst in search of the ideal relaxation routine, you can like to stop at G12 in Oniru or Eldorado at Elegushi, where you can catch me with my skunk and bottle of absolute vodka, Lol! I’m just kidding o!
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Writing: What it means to me
It's been a whole month of writers block for me and at some point, I started to feel depression creep in. Throughout the period, I tried to scribble a few lines on more than one occasion only to get stuck after a few lines. It really was frustrating, having ideas and not being able to articulate into a decent write-up. At a point I figured, if I probably write something decent about my writers block, then I would have written something and put an end to the bad run.
During that month (august), I tried to write on a few occasions and the theme of my efforts was ‘Love’. I kept revisiting the issue of love partly because I was in an emotional upheaval as a result of a certain lady I was involved with, not responding positively to our venture together. The other reason why I kept attempting a decent write-up on the subject was the feedback I got from a certain blog article, ‘is love ever enough’. I realized that people find the love related articles more interesting than other subjects I write about on the blog. The failed attempts finally led me to a realization. It was more of a reminder of how and why I really started writing.
I was once involved in a leisurely group conversation with some friends when T-sparx said and I quote here: ‘these days, everybody that puts pen to paper consider themselves to be writers. Most of them make this claim for attention sake and it’s not funny’. When she said that, I wasn’t offended despite the fact that I was the only person in the group having the conversation that was so inclined i.e. that writes. That said, the how, why and when I really started writing involves a ‘situation’ I was faced with. I was going through a lot of internal turmoil in my being. Partly regret and partly comprehension, emotionally I was agonizing about my conducts and how they led to the ‘situation’. I was as close to depressed as one can get without being depressed. Writing provided me with an outlet to express everything I felt during that period. Before then, I had been scribbling down some thoughts and ideas but the outcome of what I wrote during and about that period led to ‘retrospective thoughts of a naughty boy’, this I consider to be my first real write-up.
This realization/reminder led to me understanding the real essence of writing, for me at least. Writing is born out of the conviction an individual has about a message and the need for it to be heard or read, as the case may be. Writing is the product of a critical analytic thought process. It doesn’t end there as how you tell the message is as important as what the message is, hence the need to practice and perfect one’s form and skill. From this understanding, I have formed a philosophy that guides me in my work as a writer, ‘The service required of every good writer is, to make people see through his/her eyes, that which they had previously been unable to see. A writer should make people see what they have not wished to see. Anyone who can achieve this has fulfilled his/he task as a writer’.
When I first wrote on the subject of love, I wanted you all to see what I realized from my personal experience, that love is never enough to sustain a relationship. Subsequent attempts to revisit the topic of love were my own lofty pursuits. My yearnings for critical acclaim over-rode my duties first as a writer. Then comes the question, ‘what is your source of inspiration?’ I’ve heard and read a lot of corny responses to this question. For me, inspiration comes from different sources, all accessible by my sense organs. Thank you for reading this, I am Gigi mosky and I am a writer.
“there is no such thing as an aspiring writer” Bayo Omisore
During that month (august), I tried to write on a few occasions and the theme of my efforts was ‘Love’. I kept revisiting the issue of love partly because I was in an emotional upheaval as a result of a certain lady I was involved with, not responding positively to our venture together. The other reason why I kept attempting a decent write-up on the subject was the feedback I got from a certain blog article, ‘is love ever enough’. I realized that people find the love related articles more interesting than other subjects I write about on the blog. The failed attempts finally led me to a realization. It was more of a reminder of how and why I really started writing.
I was once involved in a leisurely group conversation with some friends when T-sparx said and I quote here: ‘these days, everybody that puts pen to paper consider themselves to be writers. Most of them make this claim for attention sake and it’s not funny’. When she said that, I wasn’t offended despite the fact that I was the only person in the group having the conversation that was so inclined i.e. that writes. That said, the how, why and when I really started writing involves a ‘situation’ I was faced with. I was going through a lot of internal turmoil in my being. Partly regret and partly comprehension, emotionally I was agonizing about my conducts and how they led to the ‘situation’. I was as close to depressed as one can get without being depressed. Writing provided me with an outlet to express everything I felt during that period. Before then, I had been scribbling down some thoughts and ideas but the outcome of what I wrote during and about that period led to ‘retrospective thoughts of a naughty boy’, this I consider to be my first real write-up.
This realization/reminder led to me understanding the real essence of writing, for me at least. Writing is born out of the conviction an individual has about a message and the need for it to be heard or read, as the case may be. Writing is the product of a critical analytic thought process. It doesn’t end there as how you tell the message is as important as what the message is, hence the need to practice and perfect one’s form and skill. From this understanding, I have formed a philosophy that guides me in my work as a writer, ‘The service required of every good writer is, to make people see through his/her eyes, that which they had previously been unable to see. A writer should make people see what they have not wished to see. Anyone who can achieve this has fulfilled his/he task as a writer’.
When I first wrote on the subject of love, I wanted you all to see what I realized from my personal experience, that love is never enough to sustain a relationship. Subsequent attempts to revisit the topic of love were my own lofty pursuits. My yearnings for critical acclaim over-rode my duties first as a writer. Then comes the question, ‘what is your source of inspiration?’ I’ve heard and read a lot of corny responses to this question. For me, inspiration comes from different sources, all accessible by my sense organs. Thank you for reading this, I am Gigi mosky and I am a writer.
“there is no such thing as an aspiring writer” Bayo Omisore
Sunday, July 10, 2011
IS LOVE EVER ENOUGH? Pt. 2
So I cheated on Stella that weekend, with her friend Tracy. Ever since the incident, I had been trying to redeem myself subtly by being extra caring and loving despite the fact that Tracy didn’t tell her. We, me and Stella, had been having a good time since the infidelity incident until December when a late night call from Stella kicked off another bout of drama. What actually happened was that I said some trash about my relationship to the caller (who was actually my girlfriend, Stella). I was sleep talking and didn’t know it was Stella calling. In my own words, here’s what I said; “My relationship with the girl has gone sour.” Stella held on to these words and December was so much hell that year, I wasn’t looking forward to resuming school in January ’07.
January came and we were barely talking. Tracy resumed her role as confidant and companion during this period. I don’t know what they spoke about but she never mentioned our rendezvous to Stella. Somehow, things got better and by February 14th of ’07, we were back together fully and she spoiled me with all sorts of gifts to commemorate not only lovers’ day, but also our anniversary together. Little did I know she had been seeing a dude called Mohammed since January of 2007? Five days after our anniversary, she broke up with me. We were in love but we were separated.
She continued seeing the Mohammed dude and I met a couple of interesting ladies myself, but for the period of 3 months that we were separated, we never stopped loving each other. By the end of May, we got back together. How? I really don’t remember but it was inevitable. Upon getting back together, we confessed each other’s sins. She revealed hers and I revealed mine, holding back the details of that weekend with Tracy. In our bid to try and figure out what went wrong, we decided to take a big step, i.e. we started indulging in sex (she was a virgin all along), thinking a major commitment and compromise such as this would bring us closer than ever. So she gave it up to me and I, in return, loved her more fervently. I confessed everything to her, told her about every girl I’d slept with since I met her, all except Tracy. I mean, you can’t blame me because I knew It would all be over if I told her and I just wasn’t ready to lose her.
Our love had taken a turn for the better at this time. We communicated so well that she knew me inside and out. I knew her, too. Subconsciously, we started a new trend of paying back. I.e. whenever I did something I knew she wouldn’t like, she’d do something she knew I wouldn’t like to pay me back. This pattern continued until summer of 2008. We got into a heated argument that resulted in a serious showdown. I was so angry that had I seen her, I’d have gone animalistic, possibly physical on her. Some days after this showdown, we bumped into each other at an event. I was in the company of Tracy and James (they were dating the whole while) and she was in the company of another one of her sidekicks as well as 2 handsome-looking young men, one of which was an acquaintance of mine. At some point during the course of the how, I couldn’t bear it anymore so I approached her. We kind of apologized to each other. Now I wasn’t about to let my girl go home with another man in my presence so I insisted on taking her home with me. She concurred and requested that I be polite by informing her male company that I’d be taking charge of her welfare from then on. I did as she requested only for me to return to the spot where we’d been standing to find her absent. That night I tried calling her over 30 times but she didn’t pick my calls. I guess she went for the killer blow.
The next morning I called her to confirm that she was alright and nothing was wrong with her. I stayed back an extra day before returning to school, and upon entering the school campus, she was the first person I saw. Immediately after I saw her, she started crying. I was moved by the tears but then I was hurt from her antics the prior night so I ignored her. She spent the whole week trying to make it up to me but when I didn’t budge, she made arrangements for us to leave school at the weekend. Looking back now, I think I took the whole situation too personally and dissed her badly that weekend. We returned to school the same except for the fact that I had clicked on the self-destruct button. Regardless of the fact that I knew I loved her, I broke up with her and we both became emotional wrecks on campus. Everybody in school knew something was up with us. With time we got over each other, or so we thought, because one year later, we got back together for a brief one-month fling. We’ve been very good friends ever since but we try not to hang out because we always get emotionally entangled when we do. Deep within me, I know a part of me still loves her and sometimes when I hear her talk, I feel the feeling is mutual. We’ve been able to avoid getting back together somehow, though.
At some point during the roller coaster ride of our relationship, we had a very deep conversation and the question surfaced, ‘is love ever enough?’ I responded in the negative using our own experience as a point. She agreed with my response stating the fact that she loved me and knew I loved her, too, but still things didn’t work between us, no matter how hard we tried. To my credit, I finally confessed the dark secret about the weekend with Tracy and my Stella forgave me. I wonder if they are still friends. So, what do you think? Is love ever enough? Really…..
January came and we were barely talking. Tracy resumed her role as confidant and companion during this period. I don’t know what they spoke about but she never mentioned our rendezvous to Stella. Somehow, things got better and by February 14th of ’07, we were back together fully and she spoiled me with all sorts of gifts to commemorate not only lovers’ day, but also our anniversary together. Little did I know she had been seeing a dude called Mohammed since January of 2007? Five days after our anniversary, she broke up with me. We were in love but we were separated.
She continued seeing the Mohammed dude and I met a couple of interesting ladies myself, but for the period of 3 months that we were separated, we never stopped loving each other. By the end of May, we got back together. How? I really don’t remember but it was inevitable. Upon getting back together, we confessed each other’s sins. She revealed hers and I revealed mine, holding back the details of that weekend with Tracy. In our bid to try and figure out what went wrong, we decided to take a big step, i.e. we started indulging in sex (she was a virgin all along), thinking a major commitment and compromise such as this would bring us closer than ever. So she gave it up to me and I, in return, loved her more fervently. I confessed everything to her, told her about every girl I’d slept with since I met her, all except Tracy. I mean, you can’t blame me because I knew It would all be over if I told her and I just wasn’t ready to lose her.
Our love had taken a turn for the better at this time. We communicated so well that she knew me inside and out. I knew her, too. Subconsciously, we started a new trend of paying back. I.e. whenever I did something I knew she wouldn’t like, she’d do something she knew I wouldn’t like to pay me back. This pattern continued until summer of 2008. We got into a heated argument that resulted in a serious showdown. I was so angry that had I seen her, I’d have gone animalistic, possibly physical on her. Some days after this showdown, we bumped into each other at an event. I was in the company of Tracy and James (they were dating the whole while) and she was in the company of another one of her sidekicks as well as 2 handsome-looking young men, one of which was an acquaintance of mine. At some point during the course of the how, I couldn’t bear it anymore so I approached her. We kind of apologized to each other. Now I wasn’t about to let my girl go home with another man in my presence so I insisted on taking her home with me. She concurred and requested that I be polite by informing her male company that I’d be taking charge of her welfare from then on. I did as she requested only for me to return to the spot where we’d been standing to find her absent. That night I tried calling her over 30 times but she didn’t pick my calls. I guess she went for the killer blow.
The next morning I called her to confirm that she was alright and nothing was wrong with her. I stayed back an extra day before returning to school, and upon entering the school campus, she was the first person I saw. Immediately after I saw her, she started crying. I was moved by the tears but then I was hurt from her antics the prior night so I ignored her. She spent the whole week trying to make it up to me but when I didn’t budge, she made arrangements for us to leave school at the weekend. Looking back now, I think I took the whole situation too personally and dissed her badly that weekend. We returned to school the same except for the fact that I had clicked on the self-destruct button. Regardless of the fact that I knew I loved her, I broke up with her and we both became emotional wrecks on campus. Everybody in school knew something was up with us. With time we got over each other, or so we thought, because one year later, we got back together for a brief one-month fling. We’ve been very good friends ever since but we try not to hang out because we always get emotionally entangled when we do. Deep within me, I know a part of me still loves her and sometimes when I hear her talk, I feel the feeling is mutual. We’ve been able to avoid getting back together somehow, though.
At some point during the roller coaster ride of our relationship, we had a very deep conversation and the question surfaced, ‘is love ever enough?’ I responded in the negative using our own experience as a point. She agreed with my response stating the fact that she loved me and knew I loved her, too, but still things didn’t work between us, no matter how hard we tried. To my credit, I finally confessed the dark secret about the weekend with Tracy and my Stella forgave me. I wonder if they are still friends. So, what do you think? Is love ever enough? Really…..
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
MY IDEAL MAN
Due to popular demand, i had to get a female point of view of what a decent lady requires of her ideal man. Who's better to ask than my own editor, Jarnli Cheney Granger. You can follow her blog at http://barbieismyspiritguide.blogspot.com enjoy the read
I was asked to compile a list of pre-requisites for my ideal man. I guess my Blogger friend wanted a woman’s point of view on the subject. I can only speak for myself, but I have been married twice and I have about 25 years’ worth of relationship experience to reflect on and I have learned a thing or two about what I do and do not want. Here is what I require:
First of all, we must have the same beliefs about God, life and the reason why we are here. There are just too many instances in life when these beliefs dictate our actions and to disagree on such heavy matters can only cause dissention. From the way one treats his neighbor to the way one decides not to stress about the challenges in life; faith is a determining factor in how we behave.
Second, I prefer someone of a diverse cultural background. The differences are more interesting to me and I find men of color more aesthetically & sexually attractive. I have long given up on analyzing why, it is simply my preference. Besides, my experiences with men of my own race and cultural background have made me grow tired. I want a man who enhances my life, not a man who sucks me dry because he is so empty to begin with.
He must love music and he must have an open mind as well as his own passionate love for what moves him. In this department, the diversity factor is truly engaging for me.
One quality that is a priority to me is intelligence. I hate having to dumb down for a man. I am very socially aware and much keyed in to pop culture. I like to be able to converse about current events without having to explain too much. I especially like to be able to use all of my extensive vocabulary without getting a blank stare because the word I just used was just too big with too many syllables. I want a man who knows who I am referring to when I mention Steinbeck, Maya Angelou, Sinead O’Connor or Lil Wayne.
I don’t care if he loves animals. This is irrelevant to me. Compassion for life is essential, but if he sends 10% of his paycheck to PETA, we are going to have a problem. The same goes for environmentalists. There are people starving and suffering in this world and money spent on saving the trees or the Mexican Gray Wolf is money wasted, in my opinion. I would rather save one baby from starvation than rescue an entire rain forest. If human life is what the Lord laid down his life for, then that is an indication to me that God places a priority on saving his children, so this comes back to item one: Mutual faith in the same God.
He needs to be clean. I’m not obsessive-compulsive about cleanliness, but if I see a man who doesn’t take care of himself, his clothes, his home or his vehicle, I see a man who simply doesn’t know how to take care of things. I like order. It keeps things uncomplicated, it saves money, it’s healthier and quite honestly, it’s sexy. Basically, if you want it to be kissed, wash it. I don’t want to get near it if it smells bad, be it your house, your body or your car. If you want me to be able to live in it, I better be able to walk barefoot through it without hurting myself or grossing out. I have a sign on my refrigerator – the same one my mother had on hers when I was growing up. It reads: MY HOUSE IS CLEAN ENOUGH TO BE HEALTHY, DIRTY ENOUGH TO BE HAPPY. Words to live by.
He’s gotta like kids. Even if he doesn’t want to have any, he’s gotta be impressed by how funny and cute and innocent they are. I think the reason our Maker gave us the power to create life and sustain it is because children are some of the best teachers we will ever have. I never knew my capacity to love until I bore a child. I never knew unconditional love directed at me until I saw the love in the eyes of my baby as he looked at me and smiled while he breast fed, milk-faced and darling. He doesn’t remember loving me then, but he loves me still. And if a man thinks that children have nothing to contribute to his life, there is something cold and dead and damaged inside of him that is going to get in the way eventually.
Last, he must be able to achieve that delicate balance between sensitivity and masculinity. He has to be able to be ‘all man’ while still being comfortable with normal, human qualities like sadness, elation and humility. I don’t ever want to think that if it weren’t for me, my man would simply be unable to manage. Need me, but handle things without me if need be.
So there you have it. These are qualities that a man either has, or he hasn’t. They are part of his DNA or they are alien to him. I do know that if a woman thinks she can teach these qualities, or force them, she is sadly mistaken. Men are who they are.
“The only time a woman really succeeds in changing a man is when he is a baby.” – Natalie Wood
I was asked to compile a list of pre-requisites for my ideal man. I guess my Blogger friend wanted a woman’s point of view on the subject. I can only speak for myself, but I have been married twice and I have about 25 years’ worth of relationship experience to reflect on and I have learned a thing or two about what I do and do not want. Here is what I require:
First of all, we must have the same beliefs about God, life and the reason why we are here. There are just too many instances in life when these beliefs dictate our actions and to disagree on such heavy matters can only cause dissention. From the way one treats his neighbor to the way one decides not to stress about the challenges in life; faith is a determining factor in how we behave.
Second, I prefer someone of a diverse cultural background. The differences are more interesting to me and I find men of color more aesthetically & sexually attractive. I have long given up on analyzing why, it is simply my preference. Besides, my experiences with men of my own race and cultural background have made me grow tired. I want a man who enhances my life, not a man who sucks me dry because he is so empty to begin with.
He must love music and he must have an open mind as well as his own passionate love for what moves him. In this department, the diversity factor is truly engaging for me.
One quality that is a priority to me is intelligence. I hate having to dumb down for a man. I am very socially aware and much keyed in to pop culture. I like to be able to converse about current events without having to explain too much. I especially like to be able to use all of my extensive vocabulary without getting a blank stare because the word I just used was just too big with too many syllables. I want a man who knows who I am referring to when I mention Steinbeck, Maya Angelou, Sinead O’Connor or Lil Wayne.
I don’t care if he loves animals. This is irrelevant to me. Compassion for life is essential, but if he sends 10% of his paycheck to PETA, we are going to have a problem. The same goes for environmentalists. There are people starving and suffering in this world and money spent on saving the trees or the Mexican Gray Wolf is money wasted, in my opinion. I would rather save one baby from starvation than rescue an entire rain forest. If human life is what the Lord laid down his life for, then that is an indication to me that God places a priority on saving his children, so this comes back to item one: Mutual faith in the same God.
He needs to be clean. I’m not obsessive-compulsive about cleanliness, but if I see a man who doesn’t take care of himself, his clothes, his home or his vehicle, I see a man who simply doesn’t know how to take care of things. I like order. It keeps things uncomplicated, it saves money, it’s healthier and quite honestly, it’s sexy. Basically, if you want it to be kissed, wash it. I don’t want to get near it if it smells bad, be it your house, your body or your car. If you want me to be able to live in it, I better be able to walk barefoot through it without hurting myself or grossing out. I have a sign on my refrigerator – the same one my mother had on hers when I was growing up. It reads: MY HOUSE IS CLEAN ENOUGH TO BE HEALTHY, DIRTY ENOUGH TO BE HAPPY. Words to live by.
He’s gotta like kids. Even if he doesn’t want to have any, he’s gotta be impressed by how funny and cute and innocent they are. I think the reason our Maker gave us the power to create life and sustain it is because children are some of the best teachers we will ever have. I never knew my capacity to love until I bore a child. I never knew unconditional love directed at me until I saw the love in the eyes of my baby as he looked at me and smiled while he breast fed, milk-faced and darling. He doesn’t remember loving me then, but he loves me still. And if a man thinks that children have nothing to contribute to his life, there is something cold and dead and damaged inside of him that is going to get in the way eventually.
Last, he must be able to achieve that delicate balance between sensitivity and masculinity. He has to be able to be ‘all man’ while still being comfortable with normal, human qualities like sadness, elation and humility. I don’t ever want to think that if it weren’t for me, my man would simply be unable to manage. Need me, but handle things without me if need be.
So there you have it. These are qualities that a man either has, or he hasn’t. They are part of his DNA or they are alien to him. I do know that if a woman thinks she can teach these qualities, or force them, she is sadly mistaken. Men are who they are.
“The only time a woman really succeeds in changing a man is when he is a baby.” – Natalie Wood
Sunday, July 3, 2011
IS LOVE EVER ENOUGH?
I met Stella 4days after resuming my freshman year of college. The precise date is October 20th of '05. The circumstance that led to our meeting is actually vague in my memory now but i remember her sobbing. We all, i.e. all freshmen had been summoned to the university hall by the authorities for another round of the orientation and induction process. Down the roll i was sitted at, there was this light complexioned, petite, young cutey sobbing. The lecture was boring anyway, so i focused my attention on the lady. All her attempt at keeping her emotional row discreet had succeeded with everyone around except for me. I scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper and had it passed on to her. She looked across and i made an inquiring gesture, she smiled and started to write something on the paper, which she sent back to me. Now that i had gotten her attention, i sent a second note asking her to stay back after the program, so we could get to know each other. She obliged my request by waiting behind after the program and we made each other's acquaintance(she told me later on that she wouldn't have obliged if she had know that i wasn't as good looking up close, as i was from a distance. Imagine!)
We became friends and gradually started getting really close, to the point of spending every minute of the period of interaction with each other. Back then, there was this big dude on her case, but we, me and Stella had an awesome connection that was absolutely spontaneous. We were like ying and yang. The theory of spouses complimenting each other was brought to fulfillment with us. It was like we were connected by brain. The big dude soon diminished to just a part of the background of the picture. By February 14th, vals day of the next year, she said ye and we started dating, officially that is. Everything went on smoothly from then on. We were so caught up in each other's world that the other person was all that mattered. I look back now and wonder how it all went wrong.
I was never in doubt as to whether she loved me, i don't know if she was aware that i loved her like hell, but i did and showed it in every way that i could. The relationship got intense so soon, i guess cause we had it before we knew what it really was about. Anyways we made rules together on how to conduct our thing and once in a while, either or both of us broke these rules. We coped with these short comings until Tracy came into the picture. Tracy was Stella's friend from high school and was about to be admitted into our University. I don't know what their allegiances were to each other, but immediately Tracy stepped on campus, my baby had an alternative plan for every plan we made together. Me and Stella got into bad rows that always left one party so angry, they'ld require leaving school to go and cool off away from the other. On one of these occasions, i was so angry with her, i was about leaving school with my friend James, when i bumped into Tracy and my Stella. In order to avoid awkward moments, i got into petty talk with Tracy, ignoring Stella until i introduced Tracy to James. Later that weekend, both Tracy and Stella left school too and we all hooked up at James' apartment after they had done their thing, and we ours. Things went back to normal for a while, then came matriculation weekend. We had another one of those bad rows so she left school to be with her friends, God knows where. Tracy was in school as she was matriculating, so i decided to take Tracy and her friends out just to spite Stella. Whilst outside school, brief moment of slip up due to alcohol and all i can now remember of that night was me marching on vertically, on top of Tracy(missionary style). How we got into the act, i don't remember. The next day, i was flush with embarrassment as this was Tracy, my girlfriend's friend and confidant. 'This is the end of it', 'now Stella has got a good reason to kick me out of her life', 'how can i have done this to the woman i claim to love?' I kept agonizing in my mind. I really love her but how do i explain sleeping with Tracy? Later that night, i went out with Tracy and we bumped into Stella and her entourage. I still don't know how she didn't figure out something was wrong cause i was totally disoriented, overwhelmed by guilt. We made up on that particular night and things went on normally save for what happened between myself and Tracy. Now the question is, despite loving or claiming to love Stella, why did i sleep with Tracy? Is love not enough? we will find out in the concluding part......
We became friends and gradually started getting really close, to the point of spending every minute of the period of interaction with each other. Back then, there was this big dude on her case, but we, me and Stella had an awesome connection that was absolutely spontaneous. We were like ying and yang. The theory of spouses complimenting each other was brought to fulfillment with us. It was like we were connected by brain. The big dude soon diminished to just a part of the background of the picture. By February 14th, vals day of the next year, she said ye and we started dating, officially that is. Everything went on smoothly from then on. We were so caught up in each other's world that the other person was all that mattered. I look back now and wonder how it all went wrong.
I was never in doubt as to whether she loved me, i don't know if she was aware that i loved her like hell, but i did and showed it in every way that i could. The relationship got intense so soon, i guess cause we had it before we knew what it really was about. Anyways we made rules together on how to conduct our thing and once in a while, either or both of us broke these rules. We coped with these short comings until Tracy came into the picture. Tracy was Stella's friend from high school and was about to be admitted into our University. I don't know what their allegiances were to each other, but immediately Tracy stepped on campus, my baby had an alternative plan for every plan we made together. Me and Stella got into bad rows that always left one party so angry, they'ld require leaving school to go and cool off away from the other. On one of these occasions, i was so angry with her, i was about leaving school with my friend James, when i bumped into Tracy and my Stella. In order to avoid awkward moments, i got into petty talk with Tracy, ignoring Stella until i introduced Tracy to James. Later that weekend, both Tracy and Stella left school too and we all hooked up at James' apartment after they had done their thing, and we ours. Things went back to normal for a while, then came matriculation weekend. We had another one of those bad rows so she left school to be with her friends, God knows where. Tracy was in school as she was matriculating, so i decided to take Tracy and her friends out just to spite Stella. Whilst outside school, brief moment of slip up due to alcohol and all i can now remember of that night was me marching on vertically, on top of Tracy(missionary style). How we got into the act, i don't remember. The next day, i was flush with embarrassment as this was Tracy, my girlfriend's friend and confidant. 'This is the end of it', 'now Stella has got a good reason to kick me out of her life', 'how can i have done this to the woman i claim to love?' I kept agonizing in my mind. I really love her but how do i explain sleeping with Tracy? Later that night, i went out with Tracy and we bumped into Stella and her entourage. I still don't know how she didn't figure out something was wrong cause i was totally disoriented, overwhelmed by guilt. We made up on that particular night and things went on normally save for what happened between myself and Tracy. Now the question is, despite loving or claiming to love Stella, why did i sleep with Tracy? Is love not enough? we will find out in the concluding part......
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