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| Dang! its been a year. almost. today i decided that i am manic depressive. i am in love at the last minute. i love late and i love last. ah pain is love. love is pain. i have moments of highs and lows. what i thought i wanted is no more what i desire. its been not a week. and a week of not having that love is torturous. my hands itch to touch, caress and linger. and my skin, that on my back, on my arms freezes the moment when a light glancing touch slithers in hopes of committing it to everlasting memory as if there is no other such touch. like there is only one. i love the sense of humor exuded, self depreciating sometimes, i love the bounce in the walk, the walk on the tip toes like a boxer or a fighter almost. like a tiger waiting to spring. but so not like a tiger. the love is gentle, considerate, undemanding, atimes like that of a little child so freely given and so unselfishly given. my heart, mind longs for the early days when affection came so easily, when words of endearment and love spilled effortlessly. i long for those days when my body was pursued for love. my body loves whom my heart loves. that phrase oh so simple phrase is my undoing. can i ever go back to how things were? i want to and yet i dont. i dont because my head knows that love once lost cant be regained. the hands of time can not be forced and emotions can not be forcefully engendered, these things must be freely given and i know it but my heart wants to reject it. i love late and i love last. | | |
| I am officially giving up. Ok not just yet. I have been apt hunting and i thought it was going to be fun except NOT! Driving up and down in these day of expensive epo. Man that shege is paining me. I saw one 2 bedroom and went to take a look at it. big mistake. the stench of the hallway was enough to make me pass out. but in an effort to be nice since i had driven all the way bothered the girl who lived there. i was thinking to myself if the hallway stinks this much wonder what the apt is like. Shes like oh sorry i was doing dishes when u called the apt is a lil messy. ok wrong keyword there. it was messy by infinity times a shitload! like oh my God. If i could have puked i would have. they were a bunch of hippish looking peeps. u know those where there hair is like dada and u can lose ur pencil or wristwatch or earring in it. Disgust does not accurately describe what i felt. one would think that if u advertised an apt you would at least clean it up.
but i guess they r college students but still. i am not the neatest person in the world but dang! they make me feel good.
i am tired of driving like 60miles daily or more in traffic sometimes for this apt search. it was supposed to be fun and exciting and the minute i saw the place it would be love @ first sight but so far nothing is grabbing me @ all.
what do u look for when u apt hunt? | | |
| i find the power of objectivity amazing. to be able to look at urself and see who you really are. not the way people see you but the way you see urself after knowing urself from inside. there are sometimes when i have glimpses into myself and i am like "wow u r so cool" or dang u r really mean or nasty or gross or kind-hearted or....and the list goes on.
in no order at all. the powers i would want, the power to blink and be wherever i want to be, the power to read people's minds but not be able to change it through that power but without it.
lately even more so time has been of the essence. people keeping me waiting pisses me off. people not getting back to me on time pisses me off. there's so much to do and so little time. hurry up is the mantra and then i realized that i am getting sucked into capitalism. so i am trying to slow down to any detriment really but to re-orient myself | | |
| I am listening to the cd u made me (esp the part where there is latino music) I really like it. Now though, I recall that I was listening to it on my drive on I-57 to new Orleans passing through mississipi Newton county where olamide’s body was found. Now its weird. It sorta makes me feel sad and wary?
I just thought the association was interesting cos originally it reminded me of when we started dating and us salsaring in ur living room and now though something else has replaced it.
Music and the feeling it engenders and the manner in which our brains makes synaptic connections and memories is amazing. I think I need to make new connections so maybe I will listen to it again when I am doing something uniquely different but pleasant so that I wont think of olamide when I listen to it again.
Its weird cos it makes me want to dance (the music that is) but then it feels sad. Tragic.
So any suggestions as to how I can make new happier memories and/or connections. | | |
| talk about fuckin depressed. like total fuckin depressed like seriously. so i come in to my house and i hear that olamide adeyooye's body was found and i just felt my heart plummet. like oh my God. she could have been my babe sis who is also in college.
what makes her so special? she is young and she is nigerian. it hits too close to home. we hear horror stories everyday but because she is nigerian my heart ached so badly. so young and beautiful and some dickhead asshole killed her and her body was found in a chicken coop in newton county mississipi burnt.
we heard horror stories in nigeria but it was there. u come here thinking u r unique special. u come here for a new improved life to have some lowlife fucking cut it short.
in addition to that my mother was just tellin me that some nigerian taxi driver in chicago is being charged with manslaughter cos he hit someone.
on top of that i heard that a colleague's brother has cancer of the GI tract and its spreading like crazy. the prognosis is bad. chemo, losing teeth and then needing surgery to remove a significant portion of his gi tract. and i am thinking what quality of life his left from this.
to top it all off, the next thing my mother wanted to watch was the news and then its ABC nightline rwanda genocide. there i am seeing dead bodies all over on the streets. all the way back in july 94.
a man who had to pay the soldiers not to machete his wife to death but to instead shoot her. a 75-yr old woman getting raped. a 15yr old woman raped and left with a growing life in her.
i sat there and my heart ached so much and my stomach turned with nothing in it. nothing coming up and i wished that i was oh so powerful and omni----something and i thought this is why some people are atheists. ,
so much hate, anger, evil, strife, prejudice, oh God so much.
i know why i am not an atheist but i also know why some people are. i feel them and understand them.
i had to call my sis and beg her to be safe. to please be safe.
for the first time in a very long time, i felt scared and i havent felt that scared. i feel capable and strong in common sense and my false sense of strength. i felt vulnerable all of a sudden and i realized that this shit can happen to me, my sis, anybody i know because olamide is a nigerian here and we all know someone who knows someone who knows here.
like zero degrees of separation.
i start glued to the horrors that my TV spatted and i stared unable to look away thinking i cant even go upstairs to sleep in my room. so i left to go to my SO's cause i couldnt possibly sleep alone.
and i get outside and there's firecrackers and shit because the sox won the world series like who FUCKING GIVES A SHIT! | | |
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