AH. FRIENDS.
I'm so bad at keeping in touch. So here's one for Each and Every one of you. There are so many. Dear Malawian ninjas, American ninjas, Relatives and Sensei's.
I'M SO SORRY I AM A SOCIALLY INEPT TWAT.
IT'S NOT THAT I DON'T LOVE YOU.
I LOVE YOU.
I JUST MANAGE TO NOT LIKE TALKING ON THE PHONE, OR MANAGING RELATIONSHIPS PERIOD.
IT'S NOT PERSONAL
I'M JUST LIVE. I WOULD RATHER SEE YOU, SMELL YOU, COOK FOR YOU, EXPERIENCE YOU. FORGIVE ME IF I'VE EVER MADE YOU FEEL LESS THAN 100% INFLUENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE. DON'T BE SO ANGRY WITH ME THAT YOU CANNOT ACCEPT THIS PART OF ME. PUT ME DOWN AS ONE OF THE PEOPLE THAT GIVES A SHIT WHEN SOMETHING HORRIBLE OR SOMETHING TOTALLY AWWWWWWWWWWWESOME HAPPENS. ASK ANYONE, I SWEAR.
I'd just like to give a personal shout out to my Uncle, for whom I am still suffering from guilt for. I am so sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I am so sorry. Somehow I know you might forgive me but I know you will never forget what I did. You might be slightly glad to know that I pay for my shit in small ways everyday, like a daily payment to my overdue bad karma. For instance, I miss my on-time bus almost every morning. It may sound silly to you but in this weather - it's not even cute.
And you know how much I like being cute and shit.
:)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Dear Someone I Wish I Could Meet
Dear Jesus.
Look here - there was no clarification if this person is dead or alive.
Every time I tell people I want to meet you, they think it's uber-christian - until I start naming the reasons why. I go from sweetheart to demon. Chiiiile.
I not only want to know what you look like...
Okay side-note.
I don't want to know what he looks like for "racial" reasons. I won't lie, once upon a time I was curious. But now, I just want to put a face to the legend. It's like hearing about your father and God Forbid, he is dead or just plain old *missing*... You just want to know what the dude looks like.
Okay so back on our scheduled programme, I not only want to know what you look like - I wanna know a thousand things. I don't feel like getting into religious conversations over this blog- so please don't throw shade here. A bish is tryna be REAL. So less be real. I wanna know your story from first person perspective. NO OFFENSE to all the Bible stans, but all of that is just hear-say. Don't shoot verses at me either, I'm a pastor's kid and I'll get it in if I have to, no toothpicks. In fact the bible books that describe you reaffirm my belief in not taking second hand stories seriously. Every body sees everything differently. It's an inside joke at the police force that when you ask all eye witnesses what happened, you'll get different versions of the same stuff. I mean, for someone to give the World an accurate depiction of yours truly, they'd have to scour my diary, my facebook, my twitter, my friends, my lovers, and my family. All we got from you were your disciples hindsight - you can't expect me to believe that you are the guy (100%) that only the bible says you are. Especially since the bible itself has been edited so many times, and continues to be edited. Suspiciously. (ahem, shout out to King James.)
But I don't want to meet you to grill you. I want to have lunch with you and hang out. I wanna talk. I KNOW you know how much I like tawkin'.... (shawty snappin!). I want to know you for real real. Not through third party folk tales.
Consider it.
Yours Truly (okay maybe not "truly", but my heart is in the right place. Might be. Actually... Okay - I'm done!"
I love you.
Look here - there was no clarification if this person is dead or alive.
Every time I tell people I want to meet you, they think it's uber-christian - until I start naming the reasons why. I go from sweetheart to demon. Chiiiile.
I not only want to know what you look like...
Okay side-note.
I don't want to know what he looks like for "racial" reasons. I won't lie, once upon a time I was curious. But now, I just want to put a face to the legend. It's like hearing about your father and God Forbid, he is dead or just plain old *missing*... You just want to know what the dude looks like.
Okay so back on our scheduled programme, I not only want to know what you look like - I wanna know a thousand things. I don't feel like getting into religious conversations over this blog- so please don't throw shade here. A bish is tryna be REAL. So less be real. I wanna know your story from first person perspective. NO OFFENSE to all the Bible stans, but all of that is just hear-say. Don't shoot verses at me either, I'm a pastor's kid and I'll get it in if I have to, no toothpicks. In fact the bible books that describe you reaffirm my belief in not taking second hand stories seriously. Every body sees everything differently. It's an inside joke at the police force that when you ask all eye witnesses what happened, you'll get different versions of the same stuff. I mean, for someone to give the World an accurate depiction of yours truly, they'd have to scour my diary, my facebook, my twitter, my friends, my lovers, and my family. All we got from you were your disciples hindsight - you can't expect me to believe that you are the guy (100%) that only the bible says you are. Especially since the bible itself has been edited so many times, and continues to be edited. Suspiciously. (ahem, shout out to King James.)
But I don't want to meet you to grill you. I want to have lunch with you and hang out. I wanna talk. I KNOW you know how much I like tawkin'.... (shawty snappin!). I want to know you for real real. Not through third party folk tales.
Consider it.
Yours Truly (okay maybe not "truly", but my heart is in the right place. Might be. Actually... Okay - I'm done!"
I love you.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Friday, December 3, 2010
My Relationship with Love
I was sitting in the bus today and thinking. Really thinking.
I found some things out
I'm a control freak. I'll do anything to be in control.
Why?
Because when I'm in control, I can better predict my behavior and set myself up for emotional success. *PING*
What's Love got to do with it?
Love makes me feel crazy. I've always associated Love with mindlessness. It didn't help when the first major relationship I was in was with the King of Asswipes.
Oh, here we go.
When I start liking something, I get over excited and start making all the wrong decisions.
So just do the opposite
Tried that. Useless. *slaps head*
So what are you saying? When you're in a great relationship you're not in love?
No. I am in fond. In deep deeeep Fond.
I found some things out
I'm a control freak. I'll do anything to be in control.
Why?
Because when I'm in control, I can better predict my behavior and set myself up for emotional success. *PING*
What's Love got to do with it?
Love makes me feel crazy. I've always associated Love with mindlessness. It didn't help when the first major relationship I was in was with the King of Asswipes.
Oh, here we go.
When I start liking something, I get over excited and start making all the wrong decisions.
So just do the opposite
Tried that. Useless. *slaps head*
So what are you saying? When you're in a great relationship you're not in love?
No. I am in fond. In deep deeeep Fond.
Dear Ex Beaux
-Intro-
Boy: I don't understand why you couldn't just tell me
Girl: Why would I tell you? What could you have done except make it worse?
Boy: I was confused.
Girl: what do you want from me?
Boy: I'm not sure.
Girl: And that there is the problem, you see? You know why? Because I want your soul. I want your beating heart served on a platter given to me, and then I want you to take it from the platter and put it in the palm of my hand.
So if I had called you to discuss this, what exactly were you going to say to me?
-Exit-
The probability you'll read this? Slim to none.
As I said, I'm beating around the bush here. Where I stand with you is like the merchant who had an appointment in Samarra, which I have copied and pasted below, but the moral of my story with you is as follows;
"Sometimes you meet your destiny on the road you took to avoid it."
Enjoy.
Appointment in Samarrah:
"There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, “Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me.”
The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went.
Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, “Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture”, I said, “it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.”
-End Story-
Girl: Isn't it obvious?
Boy: I don't understand why you couldn't just tell me
Girl: Why would I tell you? What could you have done except make it worse?
Boy: I was confused.
Girl: what do you want from me?
Boy: I'm not sure.
Girl: And that there is the problem, you see? You know why? Because I want your soul. I want your beating heart served on a platter given to me, and then I want you to take it from the platter and put it in the palm of my hand.
So if I had called you to discuss this, what exactly were you going to say to me?
-Exit-
The probability you'll read this? Slim to none.
As I said, I'm beating around the bush here. Where I stand with you is like the merchant who had an appointment in Samarra, which I have copied and pasted below, but the moral of my story with you is as follows;
"Sometimes you meet your destiny on the road you took to avoid it."
Enjoy.
Appointment in Samarrah:
"There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, “Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate. I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me.”
The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went.
Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, “Why did you make a threatening gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture”, I said, “it was only a start of surprise. I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.”
-End Story-
Girl: Isn't it obvious?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Dear Stranger
I like strangers.
I'm glad we got off on the cute foot. *shaking hands*
First off, you will notice that my face is not friendly. Don't fret. I am the pink care-bear trapped in a meanie's facial expressions. Also, I don't judge people from first expressions. I judge them on the third impression. Therefore at least, if one of us initially fucks up - there is a grace window to save face. Stranger, I love home made food and wine drinking. If we meet in these wonderful settings, we'll be friends forever I bet. I'm partial to meeting you in debauchery filled environments, but that doesn't mean I'm an alcoholic :) So I will refuse to this every single weekend. Oh yes, I must mention - if you are an educated, fit, tall and handsome man - then excuse me in advance for my inappropriate behavior. Because I may not be your type - but you're certainly mine.
You have been warned.
Stranger, please know that if you are rude - then you're the exception to the 3rd impression rule. I shall cancel you immediately (without further adieu). I can't stand rude people. While we're on this subject, if you are rude AND ugly, then stop reading this and forget we ever met. But let me leave you with this oh Rude AND Ugly one, choose one God. You can't serve two. So what's it gonna be? Will you be rude? or will you be ugly?
Stranger, I'm a bit of a geek. If you don't want to hear me drone on and on and on about something, don't you dare mention African Politics, The (w)rapper Nelly, Keri Hilson's new video, or Raheem Devaughns (did I spell that right?) video.
If you happen to end up getting a crush on me, then definitely don't ignore my birthday or valentines day. And I'm not just talking about a phone call here Stranger, if you want me to remember you - you have to stand out. I highly recommend sending me flowers, or exotic fruits all year round, and something like a cupcake or lunch date for my birthday/valentines. I'd take this advice while I can Stranger, because if I get rich - that golden piece of advice will be replaced with things like a weekend in Greece. Getting your foot in the door while you can is imperative.
Enough about men. See how easily distracted I get? Well, it's not my fault. No, seriously. It's just that - I am very fond of people. I want to help them, even when they don't want to help themselves. Even when I don't want to help myself. There is fine print with this though... as they say, the Headline giveth, the fine print taketh away. We shall talk more about this. If you read these letters, you'll get an idea.
You'll also find that I love being alone. I can't explain this one. When I was growing up, I was NEVER alone. But now, I don't take the privilege lightly. There's nothing better to me than coming home to myself.
Oh yeah, Stranger, try not to take advantage of me.
I told you we'd be friends ;)
I'm glad we got off on the cute foot. *shaking hands*
First off, you will notice that my face is not friendly. Don't fret. I am the pink care-bear trapped in a meanie's facial expressions. Also, I don't judge people from first expressions. I judge them on the third impression. Therefore at least, if one of us initially fucks up - there is a grace window to save face. Stranger, I love home made food and wine drinking. If we meet in these wonderful settings, we'll be friends forever I bet. I'm partial to meeting you in debauchery filled environments, but that doesn't mean I'm an alcoholic :) So I will refuse to this every single weekend. Oh yes, I must mention - if you are an educated, fit, tall and handsome man - then excuse me in advance for my inappropriate behavior. Because I may not be your type - but you're certainly mine.
You have been warned.
Stranger, please know that if you are rude - then you're the exception to the 3rd impression rule. I shall cancel you immediately (without further adieu). I can't stand rude people. While we're on this subject, if you are rude AND ugly, then stop reading this and forget we ever met. But let me leave you with this oh Rude AND Ugly one, choose one God. You can't serve two. So what's it gonna be? Will you be rude? or will you be ugly?
Stranger, I'm a bit of a geek. If you don't want to hear me drone on and on and on about something, don't you dare mention African Politics, The (w)rapper Nelly, Keri Hilson's new video, or Raheem Devaughns (did I spell that right?) video.
If you happen to end up getting a crush on me, then definitely don't ignore my birthday or valentines day. And I'm not just talking about a phone call here Stranger, if you want me to remember you - you have to stand out. I highly recommend sending me flowers, or exotic fruits all year round, and something like a cupcake or lunch date for my birthday/valentines. I'd take this advice while I can Stranger, because if I get rich - that golden piece of advice will be replaced with things like a weekend in Greece. Getting your foot in the door while you can is imperative.
Enough about men. See how easily distracted I get? Well, it's not my fault. No, seriously. It's just that - I am very fond of people. I want to help them, even when they don't want to help themselves. Even when I don't want to help myself. There is fine print with this though... as they say, the Headline giveth, the fine print taketh away. We shall talk more about this. If you read these letters, you'll get an idea.
You'll also find that I love being alone. I can't explain this one. When I was growing up, I was NEVER alone. But now, I don't take the privilege lightly. There's nothing better to me than coming home to myself.
Oh yeah, Stranger, try not to take advantage of me.
I told you we'd be friends ;)
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Dear Dreams
How do I begin?
I've been waiting so God damn long to meet you, to shake your hand. I've been tirelessly stalking you ever since I was - no lie - like, 5 years old. I see you in my head, I smell you. I can't even dream of you because I can't even imagine what you're like to experience in reality. I see you in my fucking brain, G. I just want to fucking touch you, just to know what it tastes like, to do exactly what I had always wanted to do. To be Fulfilled. You wouldn't believe how many books I've read, how many seminars I've gone to, how much time and energy I have spent trying to live up to what people say are your expectations of me. They better be right because if I end up rudely discovering that NOTHING I wanted came to frutition - I'm killing myself and sending a request to God for a rematch. That's how Real this shit it. Let me tell you...
The day I realize that you are right here. In my bed. Under my thumb (no doubt handcuffed to my head board) You will be my bitch.
Who's your Daddy now?
I've been waiting so God damn long to meet you, to shake your hand. I've been tirelessly stalking you ever since I was - no lie - like, 5 years old. I see you in my head, I smell you. I can't even dream of you because I can't even imagine what you're like to experience in reality. I see you in my fucking brain, G. I just want to fucking touch you, just to know what it tastes like, to do exactly what I had always wanted to do. To be Fulfilled. You wouldn't believe how many books I've read, how many seminars I've gone to, how much time and energy I have spent trying to live up to what people say are your expectations of me. They better be right because if I end up rudely discovering that NOTHING I wanted came to frutition - I'm killing myself and sending a request to God for a rematch. That's how Real this shit it. Let me tell you...
The day I realize that you are right here. In my bed. Under my thumb (no doubt handcuffed to my head board) You will be my bitch.
Who's your Daddy now?
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