tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50803962259203017092024-02-21T02:25:25.110+01:00Trying to liveMy thoughts.......Exactlynonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-38723325228086431822012-01-21T11:48:00.001+01:002012-01-21T11:48:49.217+01:00One on One<div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She floats into the room. A little limp but her movement is graceful. It’s cold outside but the warmth of the room embraces her. She reciprocates the embrace and unbuttons her jacket. Her face is unsmiling. It seems like she’s been crying. I watch from my corner in the room. I bear no aid to this vision. There’s music coming from the ground. Its vibrations move through my body but I cannot move. She doesn’t see me and I hope to keep it this way. She moves. Not her, her legs. It starts as a little tap and now i can see her sway. The movement is almost non-existent, I’m tempted to lean forward. To see her better. I want to smell her. Connect to her.</span></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://temmyno1.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/flying-woman-in-girdle-releasing-dove.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-medium wp-image-604" height="207" src="http://temmyno1.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/flying-woman-in-girdle-releasing-dove.jpg?w=300&h=207" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-style: none; border-color: initial; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-style: initial; border-top-style: none; border-width: initial; clear: both; display: block; height: auto; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; width: auto;" title="flying-woman-in-girdle-releasing-dove" width="300" /></span></a></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She swirls. My breath catches for a moment. The noise screams in my head. Surely i have given myself up. I am wrong. She continues to dance. Awkward motion looks so beautiful. Perfection in her flaws. Wrong but right. She moves. She moves. My head yearns for more. My heart yearns for more. I seek a link. I’ve been hidden in this corner for so long I fear my legs have forgotten. I inch back into the dark. Watching her is all I can have. My head has won a battle. My heart prepares for another fight.</span></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">She leaves the floor. Bad take-off. She crashes down with a thud and my heart aches. Will she crawl into a corner like me. I pray she crawls into mine. I seek connection. She pushes off the floor again. Harder. I see pleasure in her pain. Love in her hard work. Another thud. I can’t bear to look. I want to call out to her. Tell her to stop and crawl into the darkness. She pushes again. harder, harder. She’s off the floor. Flying, soaring. The beauty swallows me whole. I’m drawn but I fight. I have nothing in common with this creature.</span></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-image: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: black; color: white;">I have given up. One last glance at the creature and I am entranced. I cannot look away. She flies lower. She sees me. I see the smile build up on her face. On my face. I fly even lower and reach to pull me out of the darkness.</span></div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-16309130353644552272011-07-28T11:26:00.000+01:002011-07-28T11:26:24.745+01:00An Irritated Damsel<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px;"></span><br />
<header class="entry-header" style="color: #dddddd; display: block;"><h1 class="entry-title hitchcock" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 35px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-transform: uppercase; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://temmyno1.wordpress.com/2011/03/02/an-irritated-damsel/" rel="bookmark" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #ee3322; font-size: 35px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;" title="Permalink to An irritated Damsel"><cufon alt="irritated Damsel" class="cufon cufon-canvas" style="display: inline-block !important; font-size: 1px !important; height: 24px; line-height: 1px !important; position: relative !important; text-indent: 0px !important; vertical-align: middle !important; width: 308px;"><cufontext style="display: inline-block !important; height: 0px !important; overflow-x: hidden !important; overflow-y: hidden !important; text-indent: -10000in !important; width: 0px !important;"></cufontext></cufon></a></h1></header><div class="entry-content clear-fix" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.54em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="" class="alignnone" height="115" src="http://www.graphicsfactory.com/clip-art/image_files/tn_image/8/782208-tn_Car0038.gif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" width="120" /> Two years ago i wrote a post about my encounter with a cab driver who did not know how to handle his car. However, there was nothing i could do because it was his car, he had a say in how it was handled.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;"><br />
</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">Last week, one of my radiator fans decided to go on strike while i was on my way home. This would have been all dandy because my office is a 15 minute drive from my house. However, that particular day, every Tom, Dick and Harry was on the road. Result? Traffic Jam of the century. I ended up spending 2 hours on the road.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">The temperature measure on my dashboard was blinking red. Honestly, a part of me thought my car would explode stuck between a beetle and a golf. A beetle…I would have preferred a Porsche and a Lamborghini, i would have died happy.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">I had to battle my way out and unto an empty street. All i had to do was wait for the radiator to cool down, put some water in and drive home. Simple right? Wrong.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">After i opened my bonnet, I waited under a tree. Four cars stopped to ask if i needed help, i told them i had it under control. Out of nowhere, this man appeared. “Oh, i see you have some problem, let me help”</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">“No thank you sir, i have it under control” i replied</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">“No! i insist, let me help you” he cut me short</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">I told him i was waiting for the radiator to cool down so i could pour water. I hoped this would let him know he wasn’t needed. I was wrong. He went on to tell me i did not know what i was doing. Said all i had to do was fix the fan. He then proceeded to fiddle around my engine. All i could think of was that this weirdo was going to spoil my engine and then kill me. I looked around for help but there was no one in sight. I begged him to leave my car and three times he hushed me.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">When i felt the car was cool enough, i tried to pour water in the radiator but he promptly seized the bottle and proceeded to open the part that held the hydrolic fluid.</div></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #777777; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;"><b><br />
</b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #dddddd; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px;"><div class="entry-content clear-fix" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: #bbbbbb; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.54em; margin-bottom: 20px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-indent: 2.5em; vertical-align: baseline;">I screamed and seized my bottle, poured it into the correct place and closed my bonnet. “You are spoiling your car” he complained as i was pouring the water. I ignored him, got in my car and drove off. I attract the weirdest people.</div><div class="snap_nopreview sharing robots-nocontent" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; clear: both; color: #777777; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><ul style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: left; font-size: 1em; list-style-image: none !important; list-style-position: outside !important; list-style-type: none !important; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; text-indent: 0px !important; vertical-align: baseline;"><li class="share-press-this share-regular" style="background-attachment: initial !important; background-clip: initial !important; background-color: initial !important; background-image: none !important; background-origin: initial !important; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; display: list-item !important; float: left; font-size: 1em; line-height: 1.54em; list-style-image: none !important; list-style-position: outside !important; list-style-type: none !important; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 10px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 10px !important; vertical-align: baseline;"><div><br />
</div></li>
<li class="share-end" style="background-attachment: initial !important; background-clip: initial !important; background-color: initial !important; background-image: none !important; background-origin: initial !important; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; clear: both; display: list-item !important; float: none; font-size: 1em; height: 0px; line-height: 1.54em; list-style-image: none !important; list-style-position: outside !important; list-style-type: none !important; margin-bottom: 0px !important; margin-left: 0px !important; margin-right: 0px !important; margin-top: 0px !important; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important; vertical-align: baseline; visibility: hidden; width: 0px;"></li>
</ul><div class="sharing-clear" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; clear: left; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.54em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></div></div></div></span>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-51056533232849456672011-01-09T22:03:00.000+01:002011-01-09T22:03:59.834+01:00Moving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="241" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/TSoiDjIsFvI/AAAAAAAAAJk/8BMV8qV0vm8/s320/164-innocentII.jpg" width="320" /></div>Due to complaints of difficulty to read and update my blog from my mobile phone, i have decided to move. The new address is <a href="http://temmyno1.wordpress.com/">temmyno1.wordpress.com</a><br />
<br />
So, if you enjoyed me, please, check out the new place. :Dnonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-50015072717650647132011-01-08T18:27:00.001+01:002011-01-08T18:34:25.924+01:00Afraid of the dark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll81/myopenstudio/0PP/terror-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll81/myopenstudio/0PP/terror-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was 2am and the house was quiet. Ironically, the wind outside my window fought to come in. The whistling sound it made seeped through and engulfed me where i lay on my bed. I was too old to be scared of the dark but too young to be unafraid. The power was out again. My room was getting hotter by the second. Opening my window would bring the Sahara dessert floating into my room. My only option was to go downstairs and turn on the generator. </span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I contemplated braving the heat and falling asleep. Discomfort wouldn't let me. As thoughts of walking through the darkness swept through my head, my door crashed open. Silent screams are the loudest. Logic said there was an open window in the house. My eyes disagreed. I had seen the shadow run across the hallway. "Nonso, you're too old for this" i told myself repeatedly. I got up and walked slowly towards my room door, there was a crash.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The door had shut with as much force as it had opened. I jumped back. Living alone had enabled me learn every noise familiar with my house. Tonight, i heard none of those noises. My neighbor's floodlight cast light on my bed. The rest of my room was dark. The rechargeable lamp was downstairs, my phone battery had died an hour ago. i had to feel my way to my room door. I finally felt it and flinched as i grabbed the cold metal handle. I opened the door and walked into the hallway. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I had barely taken two steps when i heard something fall at the end of the hallway. That was the direction of the stairs. It sounded heavy. I took a reflex step back towards my room. That was my safe point. Everything beyond my doorway seemed unknown. I did the sign of the cross and walked forward. The closer i got to the stairs, the faster my heart beat. At this rate i would surely die from a heart attack before i reached the stairs. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I felt my way in the dark like a blind man and finally felt the stair railing. I wrapped both palms around it and i had already taken my first step down before i screamed...</span></div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-72108962459964500992011-01-08T17:56:00.000+01:002011-01-08T17:56:13.881+01:00The Zodiac side of thingsI was born a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Virgo</span>. To most people, this is just a Sign for people born between <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">August 23rd and September 22nd</span>. To me, this is my character. I can watch a person, how they interact with other people, listen to what they say and come up with their Zodiac sign. Its really easy actually. Each Zodiac has certain characteristics peculiar to them. Whenever i come in contact with someone, i can learn to handle them better based on their Zodiac.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://images.quickblogcast.com/100352-93055/Virgo_Sexy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="313" src="http://images.quickblogcast.com/100352-93055/Virgo_Sexy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Virgos are<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #134f5c;"> fussy</span>. We are the ones adjusting the masterpiece even after its put on display. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Criticism</span> is our way of correcting the faults in the world. Give a Virgo perfection and they will find a flaw. To outsiders, this is irritating. To us, everything can be better. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #073763;">Obsessive Compulsive behavior</span>. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Shrewd </span>Virgo is always worrying about everything. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">Spontaneity</span> is our kryptonite. We love to plan ahead...every single detail. However, a Virgo is very <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">reliable</span>. They may hate handling leadership positions because as a subordinate, they work amazingly well. Imagine having a Virgo as a secretary. Incredible. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Wit</span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Sarcasm</span> are free services we offer.<br />
<br />
Two signs that seem to fit perfectly with us are <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04;">Capricorn</span> and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;">Taurus</span>.<br />
<br />
You want to have us in the palm of your hands?<br />
1) Leave everything neat and tidy<br />
2) Throw us practical problems and we'll solve them like a calculator<br />
3) Avoid emotional problems. You will get no remorse here but only a practical solution.<br />
4) We may be very negative but please don't bring your negativity around us.<br />
5) Be in control....do not command ....be in control.nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-20366472030734580142010-12-19T15:15:00.000+01:002010-12-19T15:15:26.295+01:00Thoughts of you<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: left;">Its 6am and I can't sleep. I can hear raindrops just outside my bedroom window. Slow but determined. If i did want to go back to sleep, i could count them instead of sheep. Everywhere else is quiet. Except for the occasional passing car. Its times like this i can actually say there is nothing on my mind. So i lay back and let my mind drift to the past. The past always holds hidden treasures. The past also holds hidden pain.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.shaktimhi.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/the-pain-of-being-in-love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="http://www.shaktimhi.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/02/the-pain-of-being-in-love.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">When i think of you, my heart aches.</div><div style="text-align: center;">It aches from memories and pain</div><div style="text-align: center;">a little thought is all it takes</div><div style="text-align: center;">and i can feel all my strength drain</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The ache begins as a little tingle</div><div style="text-align: center;">an indication of sorrow to come</div><div style="text-align: center;">and i know these memories will linger</div><div style="text-align: center;">even after all the tears have gone</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I wouldn't take anything back</div><div style="text-align: center;">the pain has helped me grow</div><div style="text-align: center;">but late at night, in the dark</div><div style="text-align: center;">when i have those thoughts of you,</div><div style="text-align: center;">my heart aches from memories and pain.</div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-78342042303533749692010-10-25T11:08:00.002+01:002011-01-08T19:12:32.178+01:00Counting sheep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sleep is not overrated. You can never have enough sleep. You appreciate this even more when insomnia strikes. Lately, sleep and i have been fighting alot. He doesn't love me anymore. Laying in the dark, listening to the silence. It can make a person go insane. I count sheep but they too are asleep and refuse to jump over fences. When i do sleep, its for minutes and i have the most vivid dreams. Sometimes they scare me so much that when i wake up, i'm too scared to go back to sleep. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black; border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I dreamed I was crossing a rope bridge<br />
like the one in camp.<br />
Underneath this rickety structure<br />
was a wide swamp.<br />
It didn't just stretch in length<br />
I knew it was deep too<br />
For when I bent<br />
I cudnt see the bottom of the pool</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span">I walked calmly to the end<br />
but there was a step missing.<br />
In trying so hard not to bend<br />
I sent the ropes a'twisting.<br />
I held on tight<br />
trying not to let go.<br />
No one saw my plight<br />
now I was tied like a bow.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #6aa84f;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Round and round in the air<br />
After a while I had no care<br />
But just as I let go of the rope<br />
From this horrible dream I awoke</span></span></span></div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-60367608533502758092010-10-25T10:43:00.000+01:002010-10-25T10:43:59.335+01:00Breaking up with the family.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sofalabs.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/breakup-heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://sofalabs.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/breakup-heart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The thought of getting serious may have crossed my mind once or twice but it wasn't something i really wanted. I enjoyed the freedom. Relationships are limiting and half the fights are about crossing these limits. I enjoyed what we had. It was un-serious and open. He was free to do whatever he wanted and he returned the favor. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The beauty of our arrangement was that when my bad habit of getting bored kicked in, i could move on without hurting anyone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We were perfect. What happened? My mum happened. She accidentally met him and she fell in love. She wanted more, for him and me. The more she pushed, the more i wanted to get away. I wanted to be alone. Her approval increased my disapproval and i knew she was driving me away from him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">How do i end things with someone that my mother is in love with? </div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-85904741576520243102010-10-14T10:38:00.000+01:002010-10-14T10:38:55.736+01:00Nine to FiveThere's a clock ticking in the distance. The rhythmic tick tock enunciates the tenseness in the room. Fingers go at keyboards and phones ring. Sometimes it is the classic ring of the land-line and sometimes it is a popular song. We are young at heart but we must conform to the wishes of the older ones. A conversation drifts in from the room next door. Someone is unhappy, raised voices. The door opens and this symphony is paused as the visitor is surveyed. A quick walk to the laminating machine. He poses no threat. The symphony is resumed.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS1B2lAqlGBZaE14S2xtCAIY60VSynnozUXpROQ8_j0M4t3n3A&t=1&h=183&w=203&usg=__0wMyZV5Sg9uCBGZ9uNCMz9zW-9s=" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcS1B2lAqlGBZaE14S2xtCAIY60VSynnozUXpROQ8_j0M4t3n3A&t=1&h=183&w=203&usg=__0wMyZV5Sg9uCBGZ9uNCMz9zW-9s=" /></a></div>A low laugh, a private joke. There is whispering and a second laugh. Now everyone wants a piece of the joke. The comedian shares the joke and we all laugh. It is a beautiful sound. We may be prisoners of a capitalist market but our hearts are free. The routine has been halted as we enjoy the joke. It is a good joke that will be relayed after work in bars and homes. The clock continues to tick. It is a sound that has become a part of us, like the beating of our hearts. It is a consoling sound and we almost miss it when we leave. We almost miss it. nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-66272106331579176202010-10-03T08:42:00.002+01:002010-10-03T08:46:18.539+01:00Nocturnal AwakeningsI woke up at 2:35am. My two hour sleep cut short by the power coming back on.<br />
I hadn't turned of the ac so I got up to shut my windows. There was a bird on my windowsill. It wasn't one of the pigeons I fed rice to during the day. It had a<br />
long beak and a head that looked like it could barely carry the beak.<br />
<br />
<br />
A voice in my head told me to shut the window and go back to bed. I ignored this voice.<br />
I hadn't been sleeping well for the past four months. I had gone nights witout a <br />
Wink of sleep. When sleep finally came, it was barely up to 2 hours.<br />
Three months ago I had googled my symptoms and come up with my disease. Nocturnal<br />
Awakenings. My weak brain took on this bird head on. Curiosity flooded my system <br />
And pumped through my veins.<br />
<br />
<br />
I put out my right hand, to feel this weird creature. It wasn't supposed to be up at<br />
this time. I felt we were similar, both hit by insomnia. It wouldn't even look at me.<br />
I expected it to fly away from the threat I posed. It attacked. <br />
I saw the blood before I felt the pain. The huge gash in my index finger poured blood.<br />
Something pushed me to try again but I pulled back and looked for something to hold against it.<br />
<br />
<br />
There was some gin in the fridge downstairs, I walked down the stairs. <br />
I could not wait to return to my new found treasure. <br />
I opened the fridge and reached towards the gin. Something hit me from behind and pushed me into<br />
the fridge. I bumped my head hard but when I turned, there was nothing there.<br />
<br />
The bleeding had stopped, so I abandoned the gin and went back upstairs. <br />
As I walked, I heard a foreign noise. Living alone had let me get accustomed to the various<br />
noises my house made. This sounded different, like breathing. <br />
I ran to my room and locked the door. My friend was no longer outside my window.<br />
My windows were open. Had I closed them? During the night, my phone had fallen <br />
under my bed. As I bent to reach it, I heard footsteps just outside my door. There was a knock...nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-30616006873902259512010-06-05T09:36:00.001+01:002010-06-05T09:36:53.823+01:00Radio crushI have over 7000 songs in my itunes library. However I only<br />
listen to twenty songs at a time. Sometimes I select shuffle<br />
and I hear a song I had no idea I had. <br />
<br />
I get a certain joy from hearing a song I like on my list.<br />
This joy is nothing compared to when I'm driving and a favorite<br />
song comes up on the radio. I just want to blow off the top of<br />
my roof with my horrible singing. Now, wande cole's kiss your<br />
hand is playing ...allow me to kiss your hand.nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-81249338176637549422010-06-04T08:56:00.001+01:002010-06-04T08:56:23.601+01:00the first day of the rest of my lifeLoyal followers will know that my mum and I are like salt and sugar.<br />
We don't mix most of the time.(I think I'm the sugar) hehe.<br />
Anyways, I have a one month break before I start work so I<br />
decided to spend it bonding with my mother. Did I mention that<br />
we are like salt and sugar?<br />
<br />
<br />
My mum is of the view that she is always right while I am of<br />
the view that she is always wrong. This may cause a tiny hitch in<br />
my bonding plans. However, I come up with a brilliant plan: I am<br />
going to do whatever she says. In fact, from now on, she's always<br />
right.<br />
<br />
<br />
Our dogs hate their dog house so most of the time they stay in<br />
the garage. Now we park the cars outside. My mum wants the garage<br />
sealed for a while to discourage them from staying there.<br />
All we have to do is seal the hole they come in from.<br />
I personally think this can be accomplished with some hard board.<br />
My mum orders me to use some paper. She's always right.<br />
<br />
<br />
I use the paper and ofcourse the dogs chew right through.<br />
Having exhausted her idea, I think this would be a good time<br />
to introduce mine. So I tell her what happens and she replies:<br />
"How can you do something that foolish? One would expect you would<br />
have used something harder" sigh..one day down, twenty nine more to go....nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-54134649205457460812010-04-16T16:50:00.005+01:002010-04-17T17:49:19.133+01:00Positivity for the pessimistMy watch says its 5:16pm. My laptop says my watch is 9 minutes too fast. It's hot outside. The air conditioner is working overtime. Every time the toilet door is opened, a wave of heat passes over the room. It's a little uncomfortable but it's worse outside. The sun shows no sign of setting anytime soon. The roads are deserted, the heat wave is making people remain indoors.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S8iHJVMDRlI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/JeCTOaEG_Gs/s1600/optimism-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S8iHJVMDRlI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/JeCTOaEG_Gs/s320/optimism-1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
In the background, Damien Marley's <i>Road to Zion</i> plays really low. The song completes the sorrowful mood that has settled over my room. This is my time. I'm half sitting on my bed as i begin to go through things that have happened this last week. I catch a stray tear as it races down my cheek. I'm too close to giving up. I just want it to rain so i can stand in it and cry my fears away. The grab bag of ideas that usually go through my head have given way to one consistent thought: I want out of this mental cage i am in.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">There's nothing special about me</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">at least as far as i can see.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">Sometimes i think the winds will come blow me away</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">and there'll be no proof i was once here.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">I try to think about things to make me stray</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #b6d7a8;">but thoughts of disappointing people i cannot bear.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">I wonder how it would feel to let go,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">to be free from all responsibility.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">No matter how tempting, it can never be so,</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I have to wipe out all negativity.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">There's nothing special about me</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">I just want to be free.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-89449531024466895902010-04-06T01:25:00.000+01:002010-04-06T01:25:10.918+01:00My Easter Basket of EggsAh, the Easter season. For some of us, it was a holiday. A chance to go home and catch up on lost time with the family. I spent mine with my mum. Hilarious choice. My mum is an acquired taste. You have to understand her to understand her. Sometimes we don't. However, we understand. Are you with me so far?<br />
<br />
She picked me from the airport and spent the one hour drive home talking to me about school and asking me about my boyfriend. Harmless huh? that's what i thought until we got to a wedding the next day and she was analyzing if i could get married to him.<br />
<br />
My mum has an MSc in law. Good for her. Bad for us. Everything we say, can and will probably be used against us in the nearest future. Plus she never accepts when she is wrong. Arguing with her is like trying to tell a raging bull to stop; you will get run down.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S7p_NKgfORI/AAAAAAAAAJI/l0PqInbKxDI/s1600/mum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S7p_NKgfORI/AAAAAAAAAJI/l0PqInbKxDI/s320/mum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Anyways, back home, im enjoying the food. My mum thinks im skinny so i have been asked to eat a lot. I obey this without any hesitation. I'm stuffing on chicken and turkey like it was thanksgiving.<br />
Then she starts complaining that im at home too much. She wants me to go out. A friend of mine is having a house party. My mum says 'NO' I go out too much. Then she tells me i eat too much.<br />
<br />
I'm counting down the hours until i leave. One hour to my departure time, we are having an argument over where the departure terminal is located. I win this, but she finds a way to turn it around.<br />
<br />
I hug her and wave goodbye as i get checked-in. 'I'm going to miss my mum' i think as i compose a text to my dad. I'm definitely spending my next holiday with him.nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-89318772372063934312010-04-01T21:34:00.000+01:002010-04-01T21:34:16.715+01:00What can i be but a friend?I remember when the right phrase used to cause a rush of thoughts through my head. I heard something today and i knew it was the right inspiration but i could not find the right words to express myself. Is this how writer's block feels?<div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S7UBm4v4TkI/AAAAAAAAAJA/7-zq926ZRqg/s1600/imgres.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S7UBm4v4TkI/AAAAAAAAAJA/7-zq926ZRqg/s320/imgres.jpeg" /></a></div><div>I'm still looking for the perfect cure for a broken heart. No, not my heart. I've learnt the hard way that life is not all about the good. The truth is, until i find that perfect cure for her, i cannot be anything but a friend. </div><div>The feeling you get when someone you are crazy about says you're a good friend, is that equivalent to when a lover ends the relationship? </div><div>A friend of mine once wished for a blue pill. Yes, just like the matrix. What if there was a pill that could erase all the feelings we had for a particular person?</div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>P.s I think i should have titled this post unanswered questions but i like this title.hehe</div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-19274600255364523262010-03-30T17:30:00.001+01:002010-03-30T17:33:09.967+01:00A remedy for a broken heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>There's a subtle flutter that goes through my tummy when i hear his voice. It's like a soft breeze. Yet, it envelopes me like a warm blanket. I get a strong urge to smile and most times i give in and let this urge engulf me. I am a pro at removing non related thoughts so i can work. However, i find myself drifting to thoughts of him. The urge to smile has come again. Unconsciously, i wait for that special call. I do not know i am doing this until my phone rings and it is not him. I am overwhelmed by my disappointment. He knows i have missed him. Sometimes i try to feign anger because it has been so long since we have spoken. He quenches my charade with a few words. I countdown the hours, minutes, seconds until i am in his arms.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S7Ii4j1bJtI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PbhkIgKGPhg/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S7Ii4j1bJtI/AAAAAAAAAI4/PbhkIgKGPhg/s320/images.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The hairs on the back of her neck stand whenever he is near. Memories of his fingers brushing her neck sadden her. She moves to make a quick exit. Seeing him will break her resolve. She tries to work to forget his voice. Thoughts of him run through her head. She has to call someone, a friend, to make her smile. What would she do if he called? The urge to breakdown and confess her sorrow overwhelms her. She fights with all her might and proceeds with a facade that she has moved on. She hopes he does not realize the cracks in her composure. She wishes for a moment in future when all feelings will melt to indifference. What is the cure for a broken heart?nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-19068060497141692582010-03-21T15:35:00.000+01:002010-03-21T15:35:23.172+01:00When an egg floats<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
There's dust everywhere. We try to keep the dust out but it gets back in. Its in our shoes, on our beds and in the bathtub. The air-conditioner has packed up. its cooler outside than in my room. I can't function properly under these circumstances. So i'm writing this on the roof of the cafeteria building. There's a little breeze tickling my cheeks. I know my face is white because i forgot to bring along a scarf. However, the thoughts i can feel rushing through my head make this worth it.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S6YuhQ2ht9I/AAAAAAAAAIw/UnnCVtdyKxk/s1600-h/egg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S6YuhQ2ht9I/AAAAAAAAAIw/UnnCVtdyKxk/s320/egg.jpg" /></a></div><div><br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Some days back, Eno was boiling some eggs. I watched her scoop one out and proceed to throw it out. I asked her and she replied "it was floating, its obviously bad". I felt this was wrong. Even humans are treated this way. Does being different make us bad? </div><div><br />
</div><div>I saved that egg because i thought i could relate to it. I used a felt tip pen to write 'I am special' on it. Yesterday, i was in the bathroom when i heard my roommate ask "what is this?' this was followed by a splat. Yes, she threw it away. </div><div><br />
</div><div>P.s. I googled it and apparently, when an egg floats, its actually bad, but thats beside the point.</div></div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-64048533304984199772010-03-03T13:25:00.003+01:002010-03-03T13:41:05.479+01:00A few steps to hell and backI am writing this post with tears in my eyes. I cannot say for sure<br />
if they are tears of happiness or sorrow. What I do know for sure<br />
is that they sting. I can taste their saltiness as they run past <br />
my mouth and I wonder if my eyes are red yet. I am waiting for news.<br />
News that will change my life. <br />
<br />
The past few weeks have revealed a lot to me about myself.<br />
I used to be scared of being alone, so I surrounded myself with<br />
people that ended up hurting me. I used to base my decisions<br />
on how other people would feel. Now, I've learnt that the best <br />
decision is the one where you choose to do good. Not everyone will<br />
like this. Some may even hate you for this. But in the end, <br />
you'll be happy. I know I sound like this is my will,<br />
but you'll soon understand.<br />
<br />
December 2009, my doctor 'proposed' that I had a form of cancer<br />
known as Choriocarcinoma. People who know me always jokingly <br />
ask "what disease have you not gotten?" This is because I usually<br />
fall ill. Even though, this news made me cry. I told my sister.<br />
Only my sister. Two weeks ago, I finally gathered the courage<br />
to get a test done. This time, I told no one. I did not want<br />
to put anyone through the suspense. So I went through it alone. <br />
<br />
I'm presently waiting for the results of my test.<br />
I hate hospitals. The smell drives me crazy. I watch people <br />
setting appointments and wonder what ailments they have. <br />
<br />
The lab technician walks out of the lab. I can see he's holding<br />
my file. He walks towards my doctor's office and returns empty <br />
handed. I count to ten and a nurse asks me to go into his office.<br />
<br />
Now he's reading the file. He doesn't complain about my phone. <br />
I wonder what he sees. He's looking at me and saying nothing.<br />
I have to drop my phone.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
It's negative.nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-65804529723134420092010-01-31T12:13:00.000+01:002010-01-31T12:13:57.402+01:00Contentment in a foreign yearIve been away for quite a while. Blogging is like driving a car. If you don't drive for a while, you will always remember how it's done but you'll forget those little tips and tricks. Anyway, i'm back and that's all that matters.<br />
2009 was so last year but it was an awesome year. I laughed and i cried. This year, i started with a new year's resolution just like everyone else. I cannot even remember what my resolution was. oh, yeah, i remember now. I decided to stop planning before i did everything. I planned to be more spontaneous if that makes sense. The truth is, i am who i am. I cannot stop planning. I love planning.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S2VVKgnnG7I/AAAAAAAAAIk/WsZ24e9yGQk/s1600-h/Contented+Dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/S2VVKgnnG7I/AAAAAAAAAIk/WsZ24e9yGQk/s320/Contented+Dog.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
So far so good. However, i think i do have a new year resolution i'm gonna stick with. I plan to enjoy myself no matter what. I'm gonna have fun this year. i'm not talking about putting myself in situations just because someone else says it will be fun. i'm talking about doing those things that make me happy. This includes snuggling under my duvet wit a warm cup of tea and reading a Steven King novel ;). What makes you happy?nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-86706583341939224882009-12-16T08:28:00.003+01:002009-12-16T10:02:33.891+01:00Expectations and the weak willed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>I apologize for the long silence. I'm not dead though, I just went on a little break while I tried to make decisions about my future.<br />
<br />
Yesterday night, I let my mother talk me into trying this new diet drink she got. Tasted good but this morning, I had a terrible tummy ache. I'm sure if I gave you three guesses, you would figure out where I was typing this post on the second guess.<br />
<br />
For as long as I can remember, I had an impression of what I wanted to do in future. This dream is not something I mention to a lot of people. Even my mum had no idea. It however involved reaching the highest peak of study and teaching in a prestigious university.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/gwh/lowres/gwhn5l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/gwh/lowres/gwhn5l.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
</div>When I told my mum, she freaked out. She said I would live comfortably and not filthy rich. I still have my mind made up.<br />
<br />
I have parents that excelled in their chosen fields and this makes them believe they know what's best for me. Maybe they do. However, they do not know what will make me happy, I do. The only problem is that I cannot stand up to my parents.<br />
<br />
It funny how in every exam I take, I am not trying to keep up with my peers. I am busy trying to keep up with my parents.<br />
<br />
When I have kids, I'm going to tell them to set a bar for themselves because trying to reach the bar my parents set for me might just kill me.nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-80290467829262628622009-10-24T08:48:00.000+01:002009-10-24T08:48:51.764+01:00Public speaking for the troubled mind I am what i like to call a stage manager. I set up the stage so the actors get their 15 minutes of fame. But i'm not in film school, I'm a telecommunications major. So, the other day, i wrote a paper on a topic i won't bore you with. I was supposed to write this with my 'group members' but they did not do their part. I was ok with doing the whole project because we struck a deal; i write the paper, someone else presents. This is what i do. However, the day of the presentation came close and none of my group members could read up in time to present. Final vote, i had to present the paper.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/SuKxS0zEFpI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0rq5mTp8Vo0/s1600-h/panik" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/SuKxS0zEFpI/AAAAAAAAAIc/0rq5mTp8Vo0/s320/panik" /></a><br />
</div> I hate public speaking. Everyone is looking at you and i cannot stand the sweaty palms. Anyway, i battle with the shaky voice and almost wet my pants but finally present my paper to my dean and four other students. I almost die from the encounter but he likes it. He likes it so much that i'm presenting it at a national conference, to over 400 people. Panic attack anyone?nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-68752874225109772462009-10-09T12:19:00.001+01:002009-10-09T12:24:56.594+01:00Bug..... Bug.... BUGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/Ss3ZRlYv8OI/AAAAAAAAAH8/pzVl-a0ykAo/s1600-h/medium.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/Ss3ZRlYv8OI/AAAAAAAAAH8/pzVl-a0ykAo/s320/medium.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> I used to think roaches were the most annoying insects on earth. Boy was i wrong. Crickets and grasshoppers beat them hands down. My room keeps on getting infested with these pests. The other morning, i woke up with a cricket on my left arm. I've heard of parrots on your arm but crickets? I screamed and jumped about like a mad person for about 5 minutes. The amazing thing is that my roommate remained asleep all through this. I could no longer sleep on my bed and only got the courage, the next morning, to finish a can of insecticide underneath my bed. The second night, i woke up with a cricket on my right arm. "Oh, now we interchanging?" sigh. There goes another can of insecticide. I hate crickets. <br />
</div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/Ss3ehovOG7I/AAAAAAAAAIU/ICPY-H5mNjs/s1600-h/cricket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/Ss3ehovOG7I/AAAAAAAAAIU/ICPY-H5mNjs/s320/cricket.jpg" /></a><br />
So i am complaining to my roommate about how these insects are BUGGING me. I ask her why she's always asleep. She does not reply. That night, a grasshopper and a cricket were playing tag beside my bed. While i was jumping about and screaming like i do best, my roommate jumps up and swats both of them in one take. WOW. Who needs insecticide when you have my roommate. HE he he henonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-48992865354911302252009-10-02T21:23:00.002+01:002009-10-02T21:33:17.912+01:00Pump the throttle!!! Fool I am one of those breeds of girls that have accepted the fact that they are dependent. I like the Destiny's Child song 'Independent Women", but thats as close to independent as i get. To top it all up, i tend not only to be accident prone, but to have a tendency to get in trouble. However, i am blessed, my friends are cut out to handle me and various my situations.<br />
<br />
<br />
Today was one of those days when i wish i had rabbit feet. I called a cab to take me to the market. Everything was all peachy until the car stalled. Experienced drivers (like myself) know that when a manual geared car stalls, you turn the keys and pump the throttle. However, i was lucky enough to end up with a driver who did not know this. He kept on turning the key in the ignition without throttling. I wonder how he started the car in the first place. Anyhoo, the dude pops the hood and starts messing with his engine then comes back and repeats his miserable attempt at starting the car.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/SsZiD27kCRI/AAAAAAAAAH0/OAKSJBFPLHA/s1600-h/efin387l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/SsZiD27kCRI/AAAAAAAAAH0/OAKSJBFPLHA/s320/efin387l.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<br />
You are probably wondering why i dint tell the dude how to do it. I did, but he wudn't listen. He actually said "Let me handle this, i know what to do". then he calls a mechanic and next thing the engine is on the floor. At this point, i called my best friend and all he said was "where are you?". I was picked up and safely in the car before my two bffs started laughing.<br />
Sigh. What would i do without them? probably still be there with Mr. I don't Know How to Drive. Hisssssnonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-25981052226255894052009-09-30T21:34:00.001+01:002009-09-30T21:36:27.951+01:00Inside a lover's mindI have a major flaw, i love to criticize. I do it unconsciously and now i think when i die i may be remembered as someone who never had anything good to say about anyone. Sigh! 2010 resolution..... compliment people before you criticize them. Listening to John Stuart Mills' view of morality and this popped up in my head:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/SsO_ZjAAvsI/AAAAAAAAAHs/EpyQin2SJfo/s1600-h/KR-Connect-LOVE-HATE-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_fmY2DN2j8uE/SsO_ZjAAvsI/AAAAAAAAAHs/EpyQin2SJfo/s320/KR-Connect-LOVE-HATE-3.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I miss you when you're away,<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">my heart aches in ways i cannot explain.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">But when i get you by my side<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i wish you would just die<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You kiss me, so sweetly<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i want your lips to wither away<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">You touch me, such tenderness<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">i hope your hands shrivel up<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I can hear your heart beat<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">as you whisper sweet nothings<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing, is what i want to hear<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Yes, i wish you would just die<br />
</div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5080396225920301709.post-41952306256749387772009-09-28T15:40:00.002+01:002009-09-28T19:32:46.166+01:00Random thoughts of a psychoI have been staring at my computer screen for over an hour. At the back of my mind, ideas were floating. Most of my ideas do that and sometimes its pretty hard catching them. Anyways, i finally got a hold of this idea but it came up with a million others and i thought this was hilarious. You may not, but i'm crazy like that. The result was a cocktail of thought, a bit sour but it'll grow on you.<br />
<br />
<div style="color: #f6b26b; text-align: center;">To crave happiness, that feeling of ecstasy<br />
</div><div style="color: #f6b26b; text-align: center;">To want what others have<br />
</div><div style="color: #f6b26b; text-align: center;">because ours never seems enough<br />
</div><div style="color: #f6b26b; text-align: center;">Human nature is curious nature<br />
</div><div style="color: #f6b26b; text-align: center;">curious because we are<br />
</div><div style="color: #f6b26b; text-align: center;">and curious because i ask<br />
</div><div style="color: #f6b26b; text-align: center;">what drives us to do what we do<br />
</div><div style="color: #783f04; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #6fa8dc; text-align: center;">I have lost fights i thought winning was my destiny,<br />
waited for fate to block all but one on crossroads.<br />
Fairy tales exist but their truths are brutal,<br />
reading between the lines is instant death.<br />
Uncovering secrets and wishing them dead.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;"> Ignorance is bliss for the stupid<br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;">then call me dense <br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;">cos i derive ecstacy from not knowing<br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;">Its so much easier that way<br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;">The irony of my situation<br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;">is the downfall of my character<br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;">For where i pay the least attention<br />
</div><div style="color: #c27ba0; text-align: center;">i remember the most<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>nonnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13038840241257720686noreply@blogger.com7