I don't know if it's just me, but the last day of the year always has this surreal air about it. I can only compare it to the dark smell of death. Spooky isn't it?

Year 2010 is passing away today midnight. Just like all the other years before it, it's going to be gone and forgotten. Forever!
It's crazy how my heart gets so heavy on the 31st of December of each year. I feel like am losing something dear and precious...a part of me.
So today at midnight we bury this year we got to know and loved. We bury everything that came along with it. Successes, achievements, failures, tears...etc. It's a shame that the clock never gives anyone, or anything a second chance. We can never rewind or pause it. A second that has passed never returns.
That's just the way it is.
Life must go on.
The beer must be drunk.
The fodya wachikulire must be smoked!


Happy 2011 to you all!!!

"insert dots of ellipsis here"

I am speechless, G.
Muted!
Chelsea's huge humiliation at Emirates last night has maimed my soul so inexplicably I haven't smiled the whole day today.
Gosh...!
*face to face with pain yet again*

They say to be passionate is to risk a heartbreak...and to risk a heartbreak is pluck...
But is passion worth all the pain?
Is my love for Chelsea, Serena Williams and Rafa worth this lifeless-like state I'm in now?
Well, all I know is life would be mediocre without Chelsea, uninteresting without Serena Williams and FLAT without Rafa.
All would be incomplete without my boo-hooing for the aforementioned!
#It'sComplicated!
*KanyeWestShrug*

I hear Elton John is now a father?
Wow, the world gets weirder...

*3 more days b4 year 2010 passes away*

Guess who's back?

This morning, my demonic obsession with the greatest 2pac Amaru Shakur, which has layed dormant for more than a decade rusurrected itself! Without notice, without warning...
Growing up, I had no choice but to love Pac. My whole household was forced to endure the loud unfamiliar ramblings of this new artist my brother was newly obsessed with. At first, we would all go ballistic everytime Craig (My brother) played "Brenda's got a baby" in the house. My mum would actually go nuts threatening to break the HiFi. But slowly, we all fell for Pac's indisputable charm. Even mum! My brother and I would grace her with the most wicked serenade of "Dear Mama" whenever we got a chance. And she loved it.One time she even stood up and gave a little motherly jive. It was hilarious, and memorable at the same time. Though I have no recollection of when exactly I fell for 2pac, he quickly became my latest knight in shining amour. The first rapper to ever woo my soul. It could have been MC Hammer, if it wasn't for his ridiculous fashion sense. To be specific, the unattractive pair of pants he always used to wear. They totally put me off. I even refused to learn how to stomp the way he did because every time I moved my feet, I'd think of those ugly pants and my temper would rise. Snoop Doggie Dogg also failed to win me. I would look at him from the TV screen and thought, "wow, he certainly looks like my dog, Villah". It would have been against the mother of nature to fantasize about him. And trust me, I was never the one for bestiality. My cousin was. Defenseless chickens, ducks etc, would rock his world. One time he got it on with the neighbours duckling and was discovered in the middle of the sick act by the owner of the bird. My poor granny almost got a heart attack!
I really should do something about my bad habit of straying from the main topic. Anyway, I was talking about my love affair with the late 2pac. He had me so wrapped around his hair follicle (forget he was bald) that when he passed on in 1996, my heart broke. I didn't want any reminders so I destroyed every memento I had of him.
And when my mum followed suit beginning of 1997, (by following "suit" I mean dying) I vowed never to have anything to do with Pac ever again as long as I lived. Every time I heard his deep sexy voice, be it a radio or TV, I'd see mum's smiling face. Every time I listened to Dear Mama, I'd see mum dancing. It was like a sword straight to my soul. It hurt so bad!!!
So, that was how the divorce came about, Pac's and mine:)And when my brother passed away two years ago, the divorce was like finalized.

But this morning, for some very weird reason, I knew I had to listen to him just one more time...
And damn, was I blown away! Emotions I never knew I had gushed rapidly from every orifice of my soul. In a very short space of time, I was back in the hood with my bro - Brannah Ice and C Doggie doing it like proper Gs.

Having stayed so long without listening to this legendary rapper has created a certain kind of novelty in me. Suddenly, I'm paying profound attention to every single verb in his lyrics, every emotion he must have felt...
Damn, 2pac was one INFURIATED soul! I wonder what it is that pissed him off so greatly?
But his fury somehow made him the gigantic artist he was.

Every artist tells a story. But what makes them a great artist is the authenticity and originality of the story they are telling. How believable. Even MJ had a story. A freaky one, but a story is a story. Even Lady Gaga has one. If you take a close look at the Poker Faces and Bad Romances, you'd get to learn a lot about the person Stefani Germanotta behind the character Gaga.
In literature, they say music begins where words end. So the death of words, means the birth of lyrics. Suddenly life becomes too much to bear and you need to do more than talking...
Pac story was a true story. And he told it with every bit of emotion he possessed. The guy was so pissed off with fate, for some reason, and had to convey the message through his talent. It was him against the world with music as his only weapon. I tell you, this guy was one Hot Head! His songs were a reflection of his life, and that was what made his performances heartwrenching. The emotions in his songs are so
raw, so real...you couldn't fake it with a million years of practice. That explains the reason why no other rapper has beaten his record yet. There hasn't been any to tell a different story - lack of originality! Shite, but the guy was obsessed with death..!
A lot of comparison has been made between Pac and his rival B.I.G. But I see no point in doing so. Of course B.I.G was one "big" artist, unbelievably talented. And like every other great artist, he had a story of his own to tell, only he lacked Pac's intelligence and authenticity
The world still awaits the day a rap artist will be born - One that's going to level up with Pac. Slim Shady comes close, only he is white(I ain't racist, but rap isn't for our pink skinned friends). And its obvious that most of his work is Pac-influenced. And Snoop-influenced! He's actually very smart, Shady. He's like a sponge. He observes and learns from other artists. Then he puts together his observations, what he's learnt and his own talent to make something unique. He is amazing. Only he is still white. The worst thing since Elvis Presley. And the best!

So yeah, Pac is back in my life. And this time I'm never ever letting him go again! His music brings with it times, places and special people that I'll never know again.

It really smells like christmas out there. Snow is back with more cruelty and I haven't done most of my shopping...
Right now I'm at wit's end figuring out how I'm gonna bribe my brother in law to drive me to town.
But anyway, whatever happens, I'll see ya next year!
You've been a great listener as always...all year. You never even once complained about my neverending complaints.

*I think Hubby stole some of my doobie... they might be a "boxing match" 2nite...

December the 18th.

Today is my brother's birthday. He would have been 31. Knowing me, I'd have given him a hard time for being an old man. I'd have made fun of him finishing "the calendar". In my family once you are 31 or older, you can never get away with any mischief ever again. Basi wakula, wamaliza "kalendala", that's what the old women from Mpemba always say. I wonder if he'd have had a wife and children, my brother... I wonder about so many things... But there is no way I will ever know. For this beloved sibling of mine has been 2 years cold under earth. A life snipped short!

As I torture myself missing my brother, I wonder for the millionth time why people in my family choose to die on each other's birthdays? Like my dad who died on my birthday..., my uncle who died on my aunt's, and my cousin Janet, who took her own life on this same day my brother was born, 20 years ago. Why? Tell me G, when you've had your birthday "funeralised", how do you ever celebrate it again without the sadness, without shedding a tear? How do you ever get wasted again without worrying you are pissing off the ones who are dead?
Really, the "one above" owes me a zillion worth of answers.

*Craig, I hope they celebrate old age wherever u r! Kumaliza kalendala is not a joke... It's actually a very scary nightmare.
Janet, hopefully one day you'll be able to enlighten me on what pushed you to the edge to finally take your own life. RIP

The "Drama" in my life.

Today my older son Orama had his Christmas school play. And as parents, me and this man I married had to go and give him morale. As usual, we overslept. We always do! When the alarm goes, it's the same indignant phrase that comes out of hubby's mouth, "oh just shut it you fool"! Then its my turn to switch it off with suppressed anger of a hungry lioness before sweet sleep resumes. Orama has never been early to school. Ever! And the principal no longer says anything anymore. I think he's completely fed up with our late tendencies. And the worst, and probably most embarrassing thing is that we stay really close to the school. Only about 2 minutes walk...
Well, I blame the tsetsefly that infected me with a sleeping illness for everything that goes wrong in my life. And Eve from the garden of Eden. But hubby on the other hand has no excuse. Only laziness. And if we look in the medical jargon, it isn't a disease...or maybe it is...

*I must have pissed fate off in the most "terriblest" way possible to be blessed with a terribly disorganized husband on top of my own disorganization!*

Ok. We did get to the school. Yes, a few minutes later than the other parents, but we got there. And no one would have guessed that Tich my husband, a 35 year old respectable rasta, had on his 5 year old son's socks! And this was because he was too lazy to find his own. No one would have dreamt that I, a mother of 2 grown boys, hadn't dressed my "inner" executive self.. Ok, I had no knickers on. There! Couldn't find any in better condition. The uninvited visitors in my house, yes, the bloody rodents feasted on all the good ones I had:(
And as if the underwear situation wasn't enough, we had to lose a child. Tj, our 3 year old. Actually Hubby did.
What actually happened was, after the play, I went off to talk to Orama's teacher leaving Hubby with Tj. When I came back about 10 minutes later, Tj had run off and Hubby was going around in circles like a dumb, drunk duck which had lost it's way home. Damn was I so furious! This was actually the second time for this man to have lost the same child. So yeah, there was some bickering. A lot of it. The other parents had another show to watch. So embarrassing!
This episode today really is a testimony that my husband and I ought to grow up and start behaving like proper parents. We can't carry on raising kids in such a mad environment.
And I need to get new knickers. The thieving rats:(!! Its their fault I'm still bare "underneath" and feeling like Paris Hilton.

Anyhow, the play went absolutely grand. There wasn't a dry eye in the hall. Even Tich cried. Though I know he'd deny before Allah and his disciples that he did.
If people could really burst with pride, then the explosion that would have taken place today at the play would have destroyed the whole galaxy.
The children participating were purely amazing. Brilliant! All of them. But there's absolutely no semblance of doubt in my mind that my son Orama, the "Precious one", was the brightest star among all.
And I think I deserve a pat in the back for 5 years of hard labour. Installing humanity in "animals" isnt one plus one.
On that note, do me a favor and forget my underwearlessness!

*I'm going to a fancy party tonight. This dress I'm planning on wearing won't do with no undergarment. So after typing this, I'm off to the mall!

...

Hey G, I know this is a little too early for blogging, but I got to do something to numb this sore soul of mine. I had another disturbing dream. Extremely bittersweet!
Now I've come out of the porridge-like trance and I'm a walking bomb of tears. Any time I'm gonna blast. If that teary flood begins, I don't know how I'm gonna make it stop.
Damn...!!!

I really gotta find some doobie-( I know I gave the stuff up, but these are hard moments...

Emotions, Dreams et Footie.

"ain't it crazy how an email could just flip your mood, and you don't know what to think or feel..., ain't it scary how one person in the entire universe could get obsinately stuck in your thoughts and affect your every heartbeat..."
That's really a wayward paraphrase of JLo's "ain't it funny" lyrics!

I'm a mess, G. Emotionally. And I'm sure you know the root of it all. It ain't no rocket science. *Sigh*
I just hate this helpless feeling of being caught in between wanting to do what's right and what's right for my heart. It exhausts me mentally, and leaves me vulnerable emotionally.
I'm so tired, G. In every sense of the verb.
My soul is aching badly right now, and I feel very disoriented inwardly-<
Well...., *another sigh*
Why?
How?
When I'm like this, even vodka doesn't taste that good!

*Hey Stiletto, my gorgeous pair of heelz, how do you fancy coming to Chile with me and get ourselves trapped in a mine?* This time no rescuers.
That way I can die peacefully and lovingly with you ON - the "sexiest" death of all - so sexy it won't do us part:)
So watcha say, huh?
Not to worry, I'm only dreaming in colour here.
*****************************************************
I missed most of yesterdays game between Arsenal and Man United. Physically, I was there looking at the tv, but my mind was somewhere in Azkaban... or was it afghanistan? Yeah, somewhere between the two lands fighting insanity.
I know Gunners run out of bullets and let Man U do the shooting.
I also know that "the-once-was" Wayne Rooney missed a penalty...and I mean miss as in kicking the ball all the way to Azkaban where my mind was.

Alright G, time to chill in Westeria Lane with my fellow "Desperate Housewives".

HIV AIDS.

It's world AIDS day today.
My plan was to get idiotically drunk since I didn't go to work because of snow, but I remembered the time I was nursing my mum on her death bed some decade and two years ago due to AIDS, and all the alcohol cravings disappeared within an instant.

There is no doubt in everyone's mind that HIV AIDS has caused a million of tears around the world. There isn't a single human being that hasn't been affected. Directly, or indirectly.

The Killer disease is thought to have attacked it's first victim in 1981. I was only a useless foetus then. No one really knows where the deadly virus popped out from. Some say a scientist got it on with a monkey during an experiment and got infected. And some say the whole gay act is what started all the trouble...
There is no proof really where AIDS came from, but the fact is: It is real. And it kills!

I remember the time I was in hospital with my mum back in Malawi, that's when it hit me that AIDS was no ill fantasy. I saw things too terrifying for my fifteen years of age. The number of patients sick with AIDS was unbelievable. The hospitals couldn't cater for them all. In the ward my mum was, there were more than six critically sick patients squashed in. And it was only fit for one. On top of the patients, there would be healthy guardians, like myself. Yes, in the same "tight" space. One guardian for each patient. Some patients would sleep under the beds. And It was freezing, and hampered with anopheles mosquitoes which would suck greedily on their already insufficient red blood cells. But there was just no room. As a guardian, it was our duty to find the most comfortable sleeping spot before the other guardians beat you to it. Mostly I would just sit through the night and listen to the patients' troubled breathing. Some of them would cough their lungs out through out the night. I remembered a certain girl who I had made friends with. She had just gotten married and was pregnant, and sick with TB.
Unlike the rest of the patients, she wasn't skin and bones. She was the healthiest. Everyone thought it was just a matter of time before she would be discharged. Then one day she just coughed out a gut of blood. And that was the end. Her husband was in a state...
I tell you, the scene was too ugly to watch. I'm totally traumatized to this moment.
Apart from the distasteful sleeping conditions in the wards, bathrooms and toilets were another nauseating issue. Gosh! And the chambers patients who couldn't take themselves to the loo would use..., let me not even go there!

Ok, this was a hospital for the poor, but even the rich AIDS patients in rich hospitals with better conditions suffer the same fate; a long painful death!
As long as you are infected with the killer virus, you are toast. And besides being in so much pain, people isolate you in the most cruel way.
It's different when you have cancer, or any other deadly disease...

AIDS has done a lot of damages. There are some people who never even have a voice or choice in the matter. Like the defenseless children who are born infected. Like Nkosi Johnson. Or the husbands, wives, boyfriends and girlfriends with unfaithful partners.
It's heart-wrenching!

I know some people have relaxed with the invention of the ARVs. But that's a big mistake.
A life of pills on daily basis isn't worth living.
AIDS is real! And it has no mercy!
Do not take chances. Five minutes of pleasure isn't worth dying for.
"Wrap up the salami and save lives!"

*talk about AIDS and save lives. It took me a decade to talk about my mum*
*and it still hurts so bad!*

.

Ireland vs Snow.

Thats it! Ireland needs more than a prayer!
As if recession isn't enough, a very unfriendly weather has to ruin everything.
Well, I don't know....

But I must admit, it looks heartbreakingly gorgeous outside. I almost didn't recognize my own neighborhood this morning when I woke up.
If only snow wasn't so cold and "heartless"...!

I'm at home with the kids. The roads are so slippery it's impossible to drive.
It's great to be home, but the temptation to get drunk is getting outta hand...lol

Dignified failure.

"if you find someone to take the blame for all your failures, then at least you can fail with dignity." I don't know whose quote this is, but I'm in love with it.
Eve is the person responsible for all my shortcomings. Yes, Eve Adam. She's the reason my life feels like sandpaper.
Wasn't there a garden boy in the garden of Eden who she could have crept with instead of that Mamba...?
Really, Eve fucked up a lot of shite for us women!
Right now I've chosen to burn my husband's lunch, and Eve's going to take the blame.
Damn, it feels good!

*but here comes a million pound question..*

Why did God, (the almighty, the Mr-know-it-all) put that wicked fruit in the middle of Eden when he knew it was bad? Why did he not just chop it down to save the world from sin?

Khoswe ndi mphemvu.

Do animals ever smack their young one? Like discipline them?
Nanga ndi chifukwa chani khoswe alibe khalidwe?
Makoswe nonse omwe muli ndi ana, chonde yesetsani kupatsa ana anuwo mwambo. Ife anthu tatopa ndi makhalidwe anu oyipa, okuba!
Ena ndi Ana a mphemvu..... Khalidwe labwino linawadutsa.

I wonder what would happen if a mphemvu was to marry a khoswe?
Dziko lingayipe ndithu!

Questions.

Hey G,
I'm gonna have to call you that from now onwards. Graceful takes up too much space on my page. And I need every bit of it for my rage...lol my raging sage, I mean. Besides, G is kinda cute:)
Anyway, my mind is a simmering volcano of questions this morning. I tried to tweet them but you know how economic twitter is with it's characters. Very frustrating! But I'm glad I have you. Unlike twitter, you are generous with your space.

I was thinking about this thing called love when I woke up this morning. That I still haven't reached it's core yet to fully understand it. And its getting really lame. All I know is that at one point in your life, a certain homo sapien comes your way and turns your heart into porridge. That sounds dorky, doesn't it?

But regardless of how stupid love seems and feels, (you know the whole rapid heartbeat thing, the scary feeling of feeling like you might poo in your pants after seeing the one that has your heart, and the whole making a fool of yourself by doing things you never did before just to impress...SUPERLAME!) it still remains a puzzle that needs to be completed. The world mysteriously revolves around love.
But does it truly exist, love, or is it one of those mysteries our minds refuse to give up believing?
I always try to convince people that love is a true fact. That I once came vis-a-vis with it. But did I, really, or was I just under some strange spell?
But what was it that made me want to dance around nude whenever I thought of him?
What was it that made me cry whenever I missed him?
What was it that turned the pit of my stomach into a play ground of butterflies whenever I saw him?
If that wasn't love, as Jennifer Hudson asked in one of her tracks, then what the hell was it?

People say when you love someone deeply enough, you'd never hesitate to move immovable mountains, cross 'uncrossable' oceans and seas..., bring the moon and the stars for them. That, G, is what puts doubts in my mind about whether I truly had a taste of this rarity called love. Every time I try to convince myself that I did, my mind gets back to all mentioned above.
The truth is, I gave up before I even tried to move Everest for the one I loved. Or thought I loved.
But had I dared try, could I have moved it, with my chicken stamina?
Moving on to crossing the Irish sea...., that I failed to do too.
But If I were to put on my sexy swim suit and found my way to the salty Irish waters, would I have made it to the other end without drowning or being feasted by sharks, or both?
And the idea of going all the way to space to extract the moon from it's orbit for my boo sounded a bit like an impossible grade 1 adventure. Plus, it was going to be tough persuading mr moon to come along with me. So I ditched that too.

What do you make out of all the above failures?
What do you think?
That I should have tried harder?
That I should have worn a braver spirit and risked the sharks?
Do you think the reason for me failing to try had something to do with the fact that I didn't love deeply enough?


*ndiye iwe Chelsea uluzenso lero...*

ukapolo wa mpira.

I'm still hearing some idiots making of fun of Chelsea's epic loss to..., what is the name of that team again? Kaya akuti Sunderland..?
That's so last week, man!
Ngati mulibe chokamba sokani pakamwa. Iya!!!

Idioteque

Hey Graceful,
I've got what people call the 'writers block'. But I guess in my case it would make more sense if I called it the 'bloggers block' instead...,right? Since I'm no writer yet....? Is that true, that I'm not a writer? So why do I feel it so frighteningly in my bones and blood cells that I am? And what is it that I'm doing here? I feel like myself and anyone else who's ever been able to put something down on page, whether a its love letter, or a memo, should have freedom to the title "writer". So yes, we are all writers...literally. Who says nyo, John Grisham, anyone?

Ok, let's move on to a more interesting subject... Only I have none. Shame on this blocked mind of mine!
Maybe you want to hear me whine about the dream I had last night that not only made me cry this morning, but also upset my whole 'fecking' day? That I'm ready to do. It seems that's all I'm good at these days. Whining...
Yes, it seems it's always the same story with me. You are probably having piles just reading it. I'm forever on the same page. And it's so getting old...! I have exhausted the "whys" and "hows" and all the possibly sensible answers that never answered enough in the first place. Even my eyes are exhausted of creating new tears. Right now I've attacked the reserve bank. Thats where all the extra tears are kept. If that runs out, I won't be able to cry at kiki's funeral - thats my sister's hamster. It only has about 2 weeks to feast on cheese...

Anyway, after all is said and done, at least now I know that a love that was once felt so strongly lives on! It's angry blazes continue to burn you over the years, probably for the rest of your life, even from a thousand miles away. And believe me, that ain't no child's play!
I'd love to say that I won't make the same mistake again in my next life..., of loving someone so deeply at a very young age, but I'd be lying through my 31 set of teeth (I lost one tooth in some dentistry war, in case you wanna know why I only have 31 if the grinders).
The thing is, no matter how sore my heart gets over what might have been, my soul still smiles broadly that at least "there had been", "there once was". In some weird, sick sense, I enjoy all the bittersweetness of what once was. I enjoy each and every painful moment that occurs after each bittersweet thought, after each sweet-and-sour dream.... After all pain is the only connection I still have with my sweet past. The only link.
In other words, no matter how much I cry and whine about wanting to forget, deep down I know I don't want to. My silly heart doesn't want to let go, EVER!
Maybe I'm just addicted to pain...or I'm just plain cuckoo..., or maybe both...you take your pcik!

Alright, my shameless clinging to the past has become a cliche. I'm sure you are all tired of reading the same kind of senseless shite. I promise to talk about something else next time I'm in this neighbourhood. Something like why Tony Parker and Eva Longoria have already had enough of each other so soon? Or why Hart and Pink have decided to bring a defenseless, talented idiot in their old age? Yes, 32 is very old if you are having your first child.
Ok, as my sons would say after overeating, "ENOUGH mum"! So enough nonsense for today:)
*Feeling better already. Scribbling is better than vodka*

What a big, boring, pointless routine life is!
Weekend is back again, and homo sapiens are going to do the same things over again; finish work, go home, eat, go to the pub and get sloshed, drink-drive back home, sleep and moan endlessly about hangover upon waking the following morning. Yikes!
Nothing ever changes in this life. Except our appearances...

Adult education = Mental illness

I am such an unhappy croc today. And believe me, I have no idea why!
There must be a serious hurricane occuring in my soul... How else do I explain my sombre mood?

Have you ever wondered if animals and plants go through a complex of emotions the way human beings do?
Have you ever sat down and asked yourself if cockroaches fall in love, or have their little hearts broken?
I know this is beyond insanity, but I have an extremely insatiable curiosity. There is so much I want to know, but life only gives me limited access. I want to get inside a frog's mind and feel how it really feels like to have that rough skin...:)
*Ok, enough of the weed-influenced talk*

Well, my intention was to whine seriously about adult education, but just like me, I kind of wandered off the topic. Forgive me!
Yeah, adult schooling...that's one torture I swore on my great grandmother's grave that I was never going to put myself through. But I'm afraid I broke the oath. And I'm sure my great nana is fuming underneath earth..

After a lot of soul-tickling compliments from a lot of people on my writing, I finally made a move to do something about it. To give it a bit of polish..
Big error!!!

I'm doing a degree in English Literature and loathing every ticking minute of it!
Frankly, when I enrolled, I thought it was going to be a smooth cruise in the snow. I thought all I would be required to do to get a distinction was to read a couple of yummy novels...
Little did I know I would come face to face with the ilks of Viktor Shklovsky, Roman jakobson and Boris Eichenbaum who made it their duty
to complicate every thing about Literature. What was the whole point of putting science into an unscientific subject? Was it to make education and life more miserable for us who suck at science? The reason why God created Literature in the first place was because he thought it would be easier for us souls who have no chance with science and its test tubes... But the Shklovskys challenged God and changed all that. Now Literature is more sick than science. More difficult. More challenging...
Ok, I'm disgressing again.
The truth is, I am choking on literary critism, all that formalism, realism, modernism and stuff... I'm so losing my mind! And if you add laundry, a sex-mad husband, a bunch of rascals and a hungry dog to all my literary misery, I'm left with nothing but insanity.

The reason I lose a million sleeps trying to figure out if animals and plants go through the hell human beings go through is because I strongly feel that human beings complicate so much that does not need to be complicated. A human brain is his downfall.
Think of the creation of a bullet..,

Well, I don't know...
But one thing for sure, adult education is not easy. Nor is it necessary when you have a bunch of brats to raise.

So do I quit?
Hell no!
I'm on a mission to prove Shklovsky wrong. I'm on a mission to put back the word "enjoyment" into Literature. Even at the risk of my last shred of sanity.

*Ok guys, I'm just letting you know in advance, the time I finish this degree is also the time I'm gonna get into a mental asylum. Feeding my mind with all those gigantic pages is very detrimental to my mental health*

AMEN !

I really hate it when my heart so wants to scribble and my mind comes up with nothing interesting enough.
My soul is literally disappointed at the moment!

Ok, let's see, has Lindsay Logan got out of prison? How about Paris Hilton, is she still getting stoned out of her brains and forgetting to dress her most private parts?
This is all the writing I can come up with. Can you imagine?
Well....

*My dream of producing a bestseller shelved for now*

I'm now going to concentrate more on the things I'm brilliant at: smoking doobie, neglecting laundry, and fighting with Tich:)

Beyonce not preggers again.

Yoh,, it seems the whole world would give anything to have Queen B (Beyonce) preggers and bear feet in Jay Z's kitchen.
Ever since the sensational pop star got a ring on her finger, everyone has been itching for her to get knocked up.
No chance guys. Beyonce isn't in any hurry to be a mother. And my sister is convinced she is infertile:)

xxxx

I love this time of the year.
It's cold, and I'm broke, but X factor gives me all the reasons to smile.
I got a couple of favorites this year....
But it wouldn't be wise to reveal them yet, only I can assure you that Wagner is in the top 5.
Oh I so love the guy!
Ok, I admit he's got vocal codes of a drunk frog, but he's also got what it takes to make Simon Cowell's life a living hell.
And that absolutely makes me a very happy bunny!!!!

xxxx

The Blue Stallions continue dominating the premier league so impressively. It smells like success for them yet again. Yay!!
Doha WTA championships starts next week, the 25th of October. But minus Serena Williams and her "come ons" due to foot injury. Shame! But I'm still going to watch....

The trapped miners.

Today Chile and the entire world celebrate the lives of the unfortunate miners who got trapped under earth while trying to earn a living.
Imagine two and a half solid months in a dark sweltering dungeon with not enough to eat but plenty to fear?
Imagine not knowing?
And yet I think I have been through hell in my life...?
Well, the trapped miners could teach me a thing of two about real hell!

I love to hate my first Love..

Because after reaching the end of the road, after the tears were cried and dried,
after all was written, said and done,
he still lives inside me.
he still has the firmest grip on my soul.
How that is even possible, I have no clue!

He is the only one in the world I wish I could forget.
And the only one I'd love to always remember forever.
He is the only one I love with a passion so searing,
and the only one I hate with a viciousness so frightening.
Oh how I love him!
And boy how I hate him!

Why did he have to be so damn lovable?
That's a characteristic flaw of unimaginable magnitude..., (being so lovable).
So yeah, I hate him.
Simply because I am unable to erase the times he loved me so unselfishly...
Simply because I'm unable to erase the smiles he put on my face..
Simply because I haven't been able to compare anyone else to him,
simply because he is irreplaceable..
So It's much easier to hate him.
If only it wasn't so difficult...
Cuz even as I hate him with all the viciousness my soul could gather, it hurts so bad to know that my heart will beat for him till I kick that old famous bucket.

*une histoire d'amour et triste*

Conjugal Battles: The conclusion.

Hey all you lovers out there,
I had what I call "mind paralysis" hence my inability to finish the battle I started here.

Yes, conjugal battles. That's the definition of a million marriages around the world.
But why?

Simple.
As men are from mars, and women from Venus, their libido levels are also totally different.
Beasts called men are forever on for a romp. All the time. They always have the urge to go on top no matter the situation. And the majority of the fairer sex is satisfied with a mind-blowing loving only a few days a week.
That's when the wars in between the sheets begin.
The man is not getting enough, and he is furious, and the woman is having way too much. She's actually gagging and choking on it!
So he starts whining, and she starts hating.
And the more he whines, the further away her emotions are pushed, ergo, the lesser the love making.

If you are female there's is a good chance you've questioned your sexual health. You've asked yourself, (or perhaps visited a specialist) if you are the only woman who hates her husband and her bed?
Don't worry, you are not alone. And hating your husband because he wants to be forever on top of you is normal.
What happens is, when a woman gets married, she is advised never to deny her husband in bed. No matter how sick, or tired.
I was told by one of my nosy aunties on my wedding night that, "Hannah my daughter, I know you are a hot head and all, but please when you get married, never ever refuse your husband. Or else he will look somewhere else."
I thought that was utter nonsense!
Let me tell you women, "If a man wants to leave you, not even the greatest sex would make him stay.
And if he loves you, no amount of sex starvation is enough to make him leave. A man only leaves because he wants to leave. Period!
Anyway, after all is said and done, sex is important between couples. Married, or living in sin, (cohabitting) you need the physical bonding.
And to avoid heated conflicts and wars in the bedrooms, I advise couples to try their best and meet each other half way especially sexually.
Communication and compromise. Very important in every relationship.
No man wants his woman to lie there like a deceased log whilst doing her. And no woman wants to be done like a prostitute - no emotion, whatsoever.
Sex has to be enjoyed. It's an act of love. At it's best, it's the sweetest act any two lovers can ever engange in. And at it's worst (when only one person is in the mood) it's the ugliest.
Love is real, and marriage isn't that bad. It can even be close to bliss at times.

So all you couples out there, never let sexual misunderstandings ruin your good relationship.
It can and once that happens, turning back the clock is almost not possible.

The End!

Conjugal Battles...continued..

Heyya'll,

If there is one bleak, depressing thing in life (besides biting the dust, of course, but close) that's waiting. It can do a lot of damage to your happiness.
I hope I didn't make you wait for this next blog for too long.

So, I was on about married couples behind locked bedroom doors and sealed curtains.
What really goes on there?
Trust me, it's not all honey, or sweetness, or fructose, or chocolato.....,or whatever kind of sugar you have in mind.

For me to get safely where I'm going with this, the congugal battle front, I have to get to the root of this whole marriage thing.
Why homo sapiens make a heavy decision to live monotonously ever after, for better or for worse.

SEX.

Even though people marry for different reasons, almost all marriages involve sex. Whether accidental, or arranged.
But here I'll focus more on what happens inside the bedrooms of a "normal marriage". By normal marriage I mean the one that takes place after two people of the opposite sex fall head-overheels in love, they can't picture themselves apart. When the cupid's sharp arrow strikes.
*Yeah, love is real, and sex is sweet...until you make a mistake of tying a knot!*

So Here is how the bedroom battles begin:
Its the same old story, boy meets girl, their central nervous systems take an insane turn. Suddenly, they are on a sugary rollercoaster. Stupidly outwitted by the magic called love.
And the kind of love I'm talking about here is the one that comes with the overpowering desire to take each other's clothes off. Sexual..
The sweetness of this love, or should I say sex, breeds selfishness. Boy and girl now want to be the only souls on earth to feel the way they do. And they want the feeling to last forever.
They want to be able to take each other's clothes off any time they desire, for the rest of their lives. The power of sex. It stops one from thinking straight.

So yeah, boy and girl sign the "till death do us part" contract and settle. They are blissfully basking in marital joy. At "it" like rabbits on heat.
Oh yeah, the honeymoon phase. They have all the time love and energy in the world to lovingly "wrestle" each other. But the heavenly phase, unfortunately, only lasts a while...
*until the wife starts hating her husband and her bed*
catch me in the continuing blog next week:)

Conjugal Battles.

Because individually people marry for different reasons, there are a number of different types of marriages. Some accidental, some default, some arranged... But do you know what all these marriages have in common?
That brings me back to the title of the blog above:

conjugal battles.

Sex the focal point of almost every marriage union in the world, is also the cause of many disagreements, grumpy faces and sometimes black eyes among couples. If you were to secretly sneak in about twenty bedrooms shared by husbands and wives, you'd be surprised what goes on there.
And I'm about to reveal it all. Everything.
Catch me in my next blog :)

Finally there...

This is it. I've officially lost my muse to scribble.
Before I logged on to the page, I had a pretty good idea of what I was going to write. But now that I'm on it, I can't seem to find my vocabulary.

A friend of mine is joining the "Forbetterorforworse" club tomorrow. Lucky her :) The problem is, she is not sure about whether she should still use her parent's family name, or change to her husband's after the whole locking thing. (cold feet..?) So out of all the "go-by-the-book" married women, she comes to me, a wife still madly in love with her dad's name, for advice...

I wanted to give her a good feministic sermon about how this was the 21st century, and not the stone age where women were expected to be their men's doormats and go by their every selfish, chauvinistic rule. But I didn't. The idea of poisoning her mind with even a slight dosage of feminism when she was at her most vulnerable wasn't that ok.
So I told her to carefully listen to her heart instead. If she felt like she wasn't ready to part with her father's name, then it was her choice to keep it.

I've now and again wondered about the idiot that thought of a complication called marriage? The answer is, with not an element of doubt, MAN. Yes, man driven by jealous, selfishness, insecurity and low self-esteem - a big bully.
Do people really need to tie what the world calls a knot and put it in writing to show how much they love each other? Is life not knotted enough without adding yet more knots to it?
But such is a man's nature to own and dominate. And it's exactly that same nature of wanting to be in control that brought the idea of a ring.
It's the same nature that brought the stupid tradition of a woman taking her husband's name after getting married.

But I'm glad the world has metamorphosized for the better especially to the advantage of us women. We have found our place in the male-dominated society.
We have bled and sweated to get where we are now.
Not only can we keep our maiden names after we get married, but we can also do anything that men can do. And to quote Alexandra Burke, "we can do it even better in broken heels."

Unfit parents.

There should be an organization that gives crazy, disorganized parents medals. I'm sure my husband and I would not have to compete to be crowned King and Queen.
Aaah, what can I say? What happened this morning is too embarrassing to even think of.

My oldest son, Orama is back to school after a long, sugary summer holiday. Today was his first day, and trust me, it wasn't without serious drama...

What happened is, me and my hypochondriac better half totally had no idea that the summer vacation for school kids was over. In our heads, Orama still had a day before he was back to school. How dumb!
I left for work at 7.30 am as usual, leaving the boys and their dad snoring and polluting the air in the blankets with smelly gas. Lazy bums, they are!
I had planned to leave work early, get into town for Orama's school bag and socks, then head home to cover his books and iron his uniforms. (I'm a last minute doer. Always have been.)
But I really should have known..
Let's just say my proscrastination paid off today.
An hour into work my sister rings to wish Orama good luck in his new class.
"What, the bloody school starts today?" I asked my sister again and again. Totally in disbelief. Hoping to hear her laugh and say she was messing with me...
But of course, she wasn't. The principal confirmed the not-so-good news a few minutes later over the phone.
"oh yes, Hannah, school starts today."
I had never sweated so profusely!
It was exactly 9am, and I had about 15 minutes to rush home, get Orama ready and bring him to school. My husband could have done that, but the uniforms and books were still in my car boot. So I hit the accelerator with fury. I could have passed as Schumacker's mistress at the speed of 170 miles an hour.
I got home at 9.07am. Amazingly. Tich had showered Orama, so I just had to dress him, give him his breakie, and label his books as fast as I could.
Tich had by then rushed to the shops to get him a new bag.
It was crazy, but we made it!

Avoiding misery..

Well Graceful, the bad news here is, *my husband wants to follow me on Twitter*
My good, gracious, God..., can you imagine a more rotten luck upon your backside?
Really, me and this guy suffocate each other enough everyday at home. And if my mathematics serves me right, we still have about a lifetime left before we each completely run out of breath. Why bring the unhealthy situation to this innocent network- the only place where respiration is possible?
I'm sorry Tich if you are reading this, but I'm gonna have to ignore your request. With love, of course. I'm also gonna block your ass. And again with love. That way you won't stalk me and make both our lives miserable like you did on Facebook. That way china, phones, laptops and anything that's breakable can live longer.
There's no need to bring the boxing ring and gloves on Twitter. The one in the house is enough..

Creatures to avoid being friends with on social networks:

1. Your ex. Especially the one who still makes your head spin..., or you'll be spinning right into some mental instituition.
2. Your ex's new squeeze/hunk. That will only bring you straight into the life of that person you desperately wanna forget. And believe me, the amount of misery you'd be wallowing in once you make that error is indecipherable!
3. Your hubby, wifey, boyfriend and girlfriend. Unless of course, you wanna murder all the plates in the house cuz of jealousy...

Aaah, how I despairingly ache for the dark ages - the stone age. When human beings were happy and fully satisfied with nudity and ignorance.
Modern technology has made the world crazy. We've all been turned into sorry stalkers. Discretion and privacy are two words that no longer exist in today's thesaurus or world.
We certainly need more mental asylums!

The ultimate.

Death.

An unknown mystery that confirms the end of life.
*The most feared*
*The undefeatable*
*The unpredictable*

For homo sapiens, the fear of death, and the need to outwit it begins on the day of conception. A foetus, as undeveloped as it is, knows the smell of death.
The first thing an infant does after exiting the womb is scream for dear life.
But why all the fear?
If death is as natural as birth, if every beginning has to have an ending, why all the tiring fuss to avoid it?

Da X factor.

After a frustratingly eternal count-down, The X factor is finally here. Bigger and better!
I live for music, hence my obsession with the tv British singing competetion.
This year the auditions are being held not only in front of Simon and his mean ilk, but also a full ready-to-boo audience. So you can imagine the nerves among the poor contestants.. It's crazy.
Last night we saw some great acts, and a lot of nutty ones. The judges delivered judgement accordingly.
And talking of judges, we can't deny they add a lot of yumminess to the show. Unfair or not.
Simon Cowell seems to have advanced his bluntness. His comments for the crazy acts last night were just painful. But you can't help falling in love with the guy, nonetheless. He emits pure charisma!
Cheryl Cole, everyone's favourite judge, is more enchanting than ever. Making life as hellish as possible for horny teenage lads around the world. And as usual going easy with the ones with froggy voices.
Danii Minogue is still on maternity leave after pushing out a mini Minogue July this year. But she will be joining the panel later in the show. Can't wait to see what snazzy hair-dos she has this time around.
And, oh gosh, the old grumpy Irish dude also known as Louis Walsh...,he looks even grumpier. Its like nothing pleases him, really. Oh well, I'll just ignore him as always.
I wonder if I'll be able to predict the winner this year. I haven't been wrong for the past 3 shows. Damn, I'm bad!


*premier league began last week. The Blue stallions are on heat. Defending their title more compellingly!
And US open tennis begins next week. Sad Serena won't compete. She's still not well..
Life is delicious!

The nature of friendship.

This morning, I got another email from this buddy of mine that wants to get in my pants. Maybe "ex buddy" would be more appropriate, watcha think?
Title: "wakwiyadi eti"
Body: "ndiye zako izotu ung'omboka ngati ukuganiza kuti ndipepesa. I can never apologize for being truthful about my feelings. That's just the way it is."

Seriously, I have no time for mentally disturbed creatures. Nor have I energy to waste replying to their even crazier emails. As far as I know, me and this guy are no longer friends. I will never talk to him again. Call me childish, but he crossed a dangerously disrespectful line here. How am I supposed to be still friends with him when I know all he wants to do is shove the snake in his pants in my private parts? How can I ever trust him again?
Friendship is one thin thread that can be snipped off in less than a tick of a second.

Ok, now I'm angry.

Some people are just mentally ill!
What would you do if a guy you trusted and treated like a brother almost all your life told you in no uncertain terms that he wanted to fuck you? (Sorry for the lingo, but I'm frothing with fury right now)

Ok, though i'm boiling inside with revolt, I put a friendly mask and try to explain to this guy, whom I told you emailed me yesterday to let me know how he felt, that besides the fact that I'm married, the thought of him and me together isn't at all conceivable simply because I have no romantic feelings for him. I also tell him that he islike a brother to me and an affair or sex with him would be like incest. And I even add the word "yuck" with an exclamation mark to emphasize my disgust. But he still doesn't get it. He still thinks I'm some smart tart aching for him, but playing hard-to-get.
So he gets all crazy and starts giving me examples of other married women who've had solid affairs, and brothers and sisters who've had sexual relations. This is surely a crazy world!
He goes on to say that the reason he refers to me as "mayi a Orama" is not because he's scared of me. My marriage and two kids are not strong enough excuses to stop him from ravishing me. I'll quote; "sukufuna ine ndidzaone ndikuphunzira mmene mkazi okwatira amakhalira kuchipinda, ndipo iye adzaone mmene ine ndimabuulira?" Misala yeniyeni! I almost feel like throwing up writing this filth!
I'm slowly losing my cool. I'm so mad I just wanna tell him to go and wank if he is that horny. But I don't cuz no matter how he's disapointed me as a friend, I still have respect for him as a person. I just dont feel for him what he wants me to feel. And I don't do affairs. Especially with men I don't love. I tell him exactly that and His reply is; "ok, you don't do affairs, I understand, then fuck me once before this life is over. You won't lose anything." Imagine the nerve!

Most guys don't get it. If a woman smiles at them, they think that's an invitation. They think, "oh, she so wants me."
But it doesn't work that way. Get a grip guys!
A woman is a very complicated being when it comes to sex and love. Whilst men are straight forward and can bed anything, even a sick
chicken, as long as their hard-ons give them a go ahead, women only open their legs smilingly and with not a tiny weeny bit of hesitation in response to their hearts. Otherwise they transform into robots, or lie there like a heap of salt waiting for the man pouncing on top of them to
finish and give them whatever payment. Love and sex are one in a woman's mind. They go hand in hand.

I told this guy that am just like any other woman when it comes to love and sex. If my heart doesn't feel it, my loins won't melt.
He still didn't get it. Even after making it clear to him that there was only one man on earth whom I would risk everything for, even my kids
happiness, just to bed once :) and that it certainly wasn't him. He still thought I was kidding.
He laughed in disbelief, and accused me of being angry with him. He told me he didn't care and wasn't
gonna apologize for that was still how he felt.
Really, and truly, this guy is totally bipolar!
I remember when he invited himself in my home 2 years ago, everyone else thought I was mad for letting him visit.
My sister saw through him and warned me the guy was totally obsessed with me but I thought she was the one being crazy.
This guy acted as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He won both my kids' and hubby's affection. What a conniving mamba!
But eeish...! I guess enawa amakhala malodza basi.

Oh, Lord...

Graceful,
Today I learnt one very important lesson and would like to share it with you.
"The only time a man and woman can be friends is when the man is gay." Period!
For many years I've been tight friends with this guy I've known since 3rd grade. Me and him always got along so well and
I thought he was one of my best friends. I even welcomed him in my home once to meet my hubby and kids. But boy was I so naive!
He dropped the bombshell last night through an email, confessing his love. At first I thought he was joking. Then I was convinced he was sniffing glue, and had lost his mind. But this morning, he sent another A4 confession of his strong feelings for me. What do I do? The thing is, he has this wrong impression that I feel the same way for him. Oh I wish I did! He's one of the most incredible guys I've met, but I can't feel what's not there. I love him, yes, but in a brotherly kind of way.
How do I tell him how I truly feel without hurting his feelings, or ruining our friendship?
Boy, this is one awkward situation you wouldn't wanna be caught dead in! *sigh*

Happy Birthday...

It's Tichatonga's birthday today. Yeah, Tich, the bearded, flat-chested, creature I vowed before the law to spend the rest of my life driving crazy:) He's turning into such a wrinkly pringle. Very soon I'll be dealing with the likes of amnesia, dementia, incontinence...and then nappies. Yuck! I better join cougarism and find myself a Ken doll with no brains but fresh enough to eat quick.. Lol.
Anyway, this time I ain't getting Tich a birthday present. And the decision has got nothing to do with recession. I just don't wanna rub it in on his wrinkles and break his heart:)) And besides, he's always asked me for the same pair of shoe for the last six birthdays I've celebrated with him and nothing else. Very odd! But Tich gives a proper definition of odd. This time when I went to the shop that sells the shoe, (the shop assistants know me very well now, even the sound of my footsteps) they told me the person who designs it got really pissed off that I haven't bought anything different in the past six years....just the same pair of shoe. He found that too crazy and was forced to completely stop designing it.:)) Trust Tich when it comes to detesting change!

But he's been such a darling for too long and to compensate for the shoes and all other times I've been a total selfish bitch to him, tonight I'm gonna cook a meal that will make him drool for the rest of his life. And I'm gonna give him the most poisonous of my love - the one that will intoxicate the core of his soul and leave him in a trance of sweetness. I'll make it a birthday he will remember even in his grave! He certainly deserves it!!

Happy Birthday Tich!!!

Hell on earth.

Do our life styles really determine the way we're gonna die?
Like chain smokers, do they all die of lung cancer?
What about "mbiyang'ambes, is it always liver scelorsus that claims their last intake of oxygen?

Lately, my mind has been occupied with thoughts of Paiche Unyolo, the Malawian young lady who was brutally murdered in Co. Kilkenny, Ireland in 2004. Her headless decomposing body wrapped in bin bags was found floating in a river by two women who were leisurely taking a walk.
Six years later, her murderer is still on the loose, and her head is still yet to be found.

I did not know Paiche, nor had I ever heard of her prior to her sad death, but my spine gets serious chills every time I think of what she must have gone through in her last minutes of life.
Whether she was a drug dealer, lap dancer, or a sex seller, she still did not deserve to go that way. Nobody should ever go that way.

I hope Paiche rests in eternal peace!

The Karate Kid.

My 5 year old son has been obsessing about Kung Fu since seeing Jaden Smith kick ass in the new Karate kid. His dad made a mistake of buying him the DVD, and he's hidden the tv remote so he can look at Dre, the new kid in the Chinese block, and Mr Han (Jackie Chan), the kung Fu guru hiding behind maintainance work, for eternity. Even though I'm sick of the movie, and mad for missing a lot of my series because of it, I must admit, it has taught me one very important lesson. That is; "Life will knock us down, but we can choose whether or not to get back up." Mr Han.

Friday.

Hey Graceful,

yours truly is floating in White wine and feels like the moon is shining just for her.
Life can be dangerously sweet at times! Especially when you are living for the moment.
If I were to die tonight, I certainly wouldn't be disappointed.
I've explored all angles of life.
I was fathered by a genius and mothered by the best.
I had the most adorable brother, and have the sister more beautiful than all the supermodels put together.
I've had the most enchanting friends.
I've loved and been loved in return by the most superb guy.
And I've given two little angels the priceless gift of life.
What more do I need to achieve on earth, really?

Ok.

Hey Graceful,
I'm in a pretty good form today.
Of course I still have the impossible task of puncturing a bull's eye from a thousand miles away looming ahead of me, but I've told myself not to lose sleep on it too much. Wallowing in self-pity won't bend fate. So I'm gonna put the tears and fear on stand-by for now, and cherish the oxygen around.

"if I had only 24 hrs left to live, what would be the last thing I'd do?" That's the question bouncing up and down my mind right now. Crazy, huh?
But the heart is unreadable. You never know when it might decide to go on vacation. If you know what I mean...

*Dedicated to Owen Kachiwiya*
Rest in eternal peace bro!

My weary soul.

A certain cousin of mine always advises me never to ever ask for an easy life. He says overcoming the hardships of this world, picking ourselves up after a big fall is what makes being alive interesting and each breath worthy.
But exactly how many hardships do we have to come face to face with and overcome in a lifetime? Is there a fixed figure, or do we have to be always alert in case they strike

This bitter world.

Graceful, I hope the title above doesn't scare you away. I know this blog totally contradicts the one below it, but I'm at my lowest now and no word of wisdom can make me feel better. All I wanna do is curl up into a pringle and cry my problems away. Life is shite! When you think you are done nursing one heartache, another one arrives. Without even giving you a warning.
I certainly am losing the will to fight and win. I have not even a globule of energy left to carry on.
I've lost the zeal to live.
When I look at my beautiful children, my family, the pain is like times a million it's original size. It hurts more than hell to
think that I'm so ready to give up without a fight. To be frank, I don't even wanna try. I'm tired, Graceful. And I know even if I try to equip my
weapons and gather up my courage and get into that war zone, I'm still gonna lose humiliatingly. Hope fractured beyond repair!
If only earth was kind enough to swallow me up right now...

The colour of life.

Hi Graceful,

This is to every one who is crying, or just having a bad day:

No matter how stormy the storm,
no matter how rainy the rain,
and how foggy the fog,
the sun always eventually shines!

No matter how hard you've stumbled and fallen, you shall always rise.
No matter how bad the situation you are in seems, you shall always find your way out of it.

Sometimes I like to close my eyes and imagine life as a bunch of different colours. Some dark and some bright. But each one essential and meaningful in it's own way. Each one contributing to the untouchable beauty of earth.
In my mind, the dark colours are like the emotions we go through in times of sorrow, or any other painful situation. No one wants to cry, or hurt. But we have to inorder to grow. Crying is just as important as laughing. The hardships in life give us steely survival instincts. It makes us stronger and wiser than before.
And the brighter colours are like all the beauty in our lives. Everything that brings a smile on our faces.
So even though the darker colours don't seem so appealing to the eye, they are just as important as the brighter ones. Together they give the world it's magnificent beauty. It's the same with real life. Happiness and sorrow go hand in hand. You can't appreciate joy if you haven't experienced pain.




experienced pain.

Crazy life.

Today, as I was slowly driving to work, it suddenly struck me how strange life is. On an impulse, I pulled over a kerb, got out of the car and just stared in total disbelief at the surrounding beauty. It was as if I was seeing the world for the first time. I weirdly felt like a blind man who had just been given a special gift of sight.
I looked up at the blue sky, dazzling in every sense.
My eyes wandered a bit further across. Everything looked so richly green. The tall trees and grass beautifully danced to the sweet rythm of the breeze.
I went down on my knees to touch the slightly wet soil. It felt so unbelievably soft. Like baby powder.
Somewhere a bird shrieked. It sounded like Alicia Keys singing one of her sweet melodies.
I shook my head in complete awe and headed back to the car.

It was when I started the engine, that I started thinking. Surely all the beauty I'd just seen must have come from somewhere.
Someone with an oversized brain must have created the galaxy.
But who?
And where did he himself come from?

Sunday party.

Last night was fun, fun, fun!
We party'd harder than ever before.
Life is too short to deny oneself alcohol:)
And the exorbitant price of hangover that normally follows is more than worth it.

#sweetlife!

Today sucks!

Sorry Graceful, but I'm having one of those painfully inactive Sundays, and I'm here to rant.
Nothing life-threatening, really, just *Boredom* eating me alive!
And it gets even better, my sister who is my usual entertainer on moody days like this is in one sourish mood herself, she ain't talking to me.
Normally her flactuation of temperaments doesn't worry me, but today is different for the fact that she is suppose to accompany me to a party I'm not so keen on going alone. So I guess am truly fu***d!
As if all that bull is not enough, this naughty roitweiler pup is trying my already weary patience, pooing and peeing on every hidden corner in the house. Jaysus, somebody give me some boxing gloves quick!

Untitled.

I'm not really a Stephen King maniac, but once in a while when the monotony of reality sickens the core of my soul, I allow myself the bliss of getting lost in his surreal world through his books.
There are times when King's unearthly imagination really spooks the wit out of me, but mostly I'm flabbergasted by how he gets to fill up a million blank pages with spine-freezing fantasies every time he holds a pencil.
The guy is a genius, no doubt, but what I love most about his books are the personal notes he normally adds before and after each "horror". They are witty, and funny.

I'm sure you are wondering where am going with this?
Well, nowhere, really. This is an aimless scribble. Meaningless in every senseless sense. Does that make sense? Well, whatever!
King once said, (I think in "Just After Sunset") "writing short stories isn't the same as riding a bicycle, you can forget how."
I wonder if the same applies to blogging.. cuz lately, I seem to have lost the oomph I normally get once I come on this page. I just can't scribble..
Maybe it's because nothing worth scribbling is happening around this world...
Or maybe I've really forgotten how..
Well, I don't know.

Earth, what a boring place to be.!

Kamuzu fathered a child?

When the first ever Malawian president, Hastings Kamuzu Banda kicked the bucket in 1997, I thought, "wow, the dictator has gone without even an offspring to carry his dictating gene on. How sad!".
Now almost 13 years cold in his grave, someone comes from nowhere claiming to be Kamuzu's only heir. What a shock!
According to the gossip column, the guy is around 31 years of age, and has been outside Malawi all his life.
Frankly, I don't believe him!

Anyway, I'll give you an update about the issue as soon as I get more information from my source.

A flat finale..

After 4 tedious years of feverish word cup anticipation, it's now all over.
What a flat finish!
Spain is amid huge celebrations right now. Great for them.

I still think Nigeria should have won!

Till 2014, it's adios from South Africa.

Infinite schooling.

They say the only constant thing about this world is change.
Absolutely true!
Gone are the days when schooling ended in standard 8. Nowadays everyone, regardless of age and marital status, is in class.
Every time I touch base with friends back home, all they do is moan about school. So I ask myself, did we not complete our education a decade ago?
My lucifer, what is it that people want?
Is it money?
Promotions?
Or is it that massively satisfactory feeling of having that degree or diploma on that wall?
I don't know.

Penis Envy??? Nah.

Oh Graceful,

How magnificent it feels to have ears that listen for real!

Today I'm neither going to talk about world cup, nor tennis. The two subjects have become too weary, it's exhausting to even think of them right now.
I'm here to loudly whine about the lazy man I married, and all other ungrateful flat-chested creatures with facial hair.

From a very young age, I noticed how my parents treated my brother differently from my little sister and I. Whilst he was allowed to stay outdoors as late as he prefered to, my poor sister and I would get a good hiding if ever we missed curfew by a few seconds. "munalikuti, simmaona kuti kwada?" the kind of questions girls get bombarded with when they get home late.
My brother was granted permission to be lazy, while us the girls learnt how to cook, clean and wash our undergarments.
For some reason, my sister never seemed to be bothered by the fact that my parents treated my brother like royalty, and us the girls, more like loved slaves. She would unconcernedly do all her chores and came home in time without making any noise.
I, on the other hand, was a harder nut to crack. I never understood why my brother, who was the eldest among us, did not do dishes, or wash his own underwear. Being a girl felt like one gigantic punishment. All I wanted was fair treatment.
Things were worse at school. It was the girls responsibility to have the class tidied before lessons. The boys would just conceitedly strut in like jesuses. Damn, that hurt so bad! And it hurt even more that the girls chose to suffer in silence. I felt so let down.

From dinasour years, the Human female species has always been associated with inferiority. In fact, it has been regarded as inferior. Always been the one to be taken advantage of, abused, looked down upon and made to do all the work men wouldn't do. Why? The human female species
itself is to blame for the male superiority in this world. A man's stinking ego is instilled in him from the day of his conception in the womb. Womens
suffering start in families. Male children are treated differently from females ones all over the world. Africans, Indians and Asians are the
worst when it comes to looking down upon the female sex. Boys are taught the art of laziness, they are never born with it. Their egos are
inflated to a bursting point all their growing lives by their fathers and mothers. And when they become men, they carry the stinky egotistic
attitudes with them wherever they go. Into classes and offices. And when they get married, they expect the same exuberant treatment their quaint parents gave them all their lives from their wives.
If only families would treat their children equally regardless of their sex, if only female kids would stand up to their old fashioned families and society about fair treatment..., really, this world wouldn't at all be called a mans world.
I remember one time my mum asked me to make tea for my dad. I asked why she never asked my brother to do anything and she told me in no uncertain terms that the
reason she always asked me and not my brother was because I was a girl and one day when I got married, I would be making tea for my
hubby. I told my mother point-blank that if that was the case then I would never get married.

Why, why, why?
What's so special about being a man, really? Is it the penis?
I tell you, the whole 13 years I spent with my dad, I never, not even one day, saw him cook or hold a broom to clean the house. He was like a shrine in the house.
He would give problems about his bloody tea, and whether his nsima was well done or not... Such a brat! I loved him to bits, but did not get myself to understand why he couldn't make his own bloody cup of tea.

I don't know if it was the hurt and pain that my parents caused me by giving my brother special treatment because he was a boy, but growing
up, I never gave a second thought about becoming a wife one day. I was forever refusing to be a pretend bride, unlike most young girls who would be on each other's throat for the part. Even when I fell hard in love with this boy in my school, that dream, most girls have, of lavishly walking down the aisle and living "happily ever after" never crossed my mind.
But by default, one Friday noon, I found my feminist ass walking down the same aisle i never dreamt of saying "I do". Unbelievable! I'm sure an earthquake occurred some place..
However, I told myself that an insurmmountable situation might have dragged me into an institution I didn't understand, but I was never going to be any man's doormat. I promised myself I wasn't gonna change even for love. I wasn't gonna be that kind of woman who'd go an extra mile doing things she doesn't believe in just to please a man. I was going to compromise, yes, but no way was I going to lose my feministic principles.
I told myself the man I had chosen to marry was going to be my best friend, my partner and my lover, and not my BOSS! I was going to love, respect and listen to him, but he was also going to do the same for me.
For some reason women lose their identity once they get a ring on their finger. Very sad indeed!

I don't know if it's the feminist in me, but I refuse to cook or do laundry when I'm tired. I refuse to have sex just to please my husband.
And believe me, all this has nothing to do with penis envy.

For me, marriage is a give-n-take game. Both husband and wife should give and take equally - meeting eachother half way.

The Bad that man do...

One thing I've learnt about us homo sapiens is that nothing really pleases us. We never so much appreciate the good stuff, but always remember the bad. We are frighteningly unforgiving. Greed, jealousy, and selfishness consume every molecule of our souls. Nothing satisfies us. That's why we spend eternity searching for happiness.

When Asamoah Gyan, Ghana's striker, impressively struck that first penalty right past Serbia's goalie and straight into the net to put the Black Stars on top of it's group in the first stage of world cup 2010, the whole Africa as a nation rejoiced. When he aptly dribbled past USA tight defence to score the deciding goal that took his team into the quarter final, motherland thunderously roared with pride. Asamoah became Ghana's diamond and Africa's brightest shining star. Within an instant the Black Star's golden striker had stolen more than a zillion hearts around the world. Women would drool all over their tvs whenever Asamoah was on the pitch. My crazy sister even said she would do anything to bed him:)

But on Friday, the 2nd of June, 2010, The same heroic Asamoah missed a penalty that would have taken his team into the world cup semi-finals for the very first time. Africa's heart was despairingly shattered!
In less than an instant Asamoah turned from hero to zero.

Whats wrong with us Human beings?
We seem to have forgotten that even heroes make mistakes. Yes, even Asamoah. He is after all human too.
Of course what happened on Friday was painful, but we can not change it now. And as we furiously pant and rant for the dream lost, we must also consider the fact that Asamoah did not plan to miss that penalty. We have no right, whatsoever to judge or blame him. Instead of focusing on him missing the crucial goal, we should think of how hard he worked to put his team into a place where it's never been before - the quarter final of world cup.
Sometimes things just go wrong and there is no explanation.

Really and truly, why do we forget the good that people do, but clearly remember that bad?

Sunday, 4th of July.

Today is one of those sloshed Sundays. My muscles are aching, my medulla oblangata is on haitus and the world seems to be spinning right in my face.
I'm sorry I can't put anything sensible on this page. My usually creative mind is on strike.
So see you later!

*Serena Williams took home with her her 4th Wimbledon title. Impressive! The world number 1 unsympathetically demolished Vera Zvonoreva in straight sets. The most boring Wimbledon final match ever! Next year give the mighty Miss Williams someone her own size. Yeah, like Justine Henin.
And Raphael Nadal was totally ruthless in his final match today. You just gotta lurvee the Spaniard stud, man! He now has 2 Wimbledon titles. I anticipate 5 more from him. What a great champion he is!

A nightmarish reality.

I'm awake. And Ghana's unfortunate world cup 2010 quarter final loss still feels like a sharp sword deep in my heart. Brutally slashing even the tiniest blood vessel...
Have you ever been in one painfully shite situation you pinched yourselves a couple of times to make sure you were not having a dreadful nightmare? Last night, after Ghana missed that crucial penalty, I went into a pinching fit and almost drew a few pints of raw red blood from my skin. I just couldn't get myself to believe that Gyan, our golden striker, had missed that chance of making history. He will eternally blame himself for denying his country and Africa as a nation a world cup semi final glory. I wonder if he isn't in some secluded graveyard right now, trying to hang himself....lol.
Anyhow, zagwa zatha. Now more than I ever, I firmly believe that Africa is fathomlessly cursed. A doomed nation. We will forever be failures.
Tidzingouluka usiku basi...

I hope Serena pulls it off at Wimbledon this noon. Otherwise ine basi ndingomwa tameki. Lol.

A pulverised dream...

Ghana, Ghana, Ghana..!
What else is there to say?
Really, I'm muted by profound grief.
My soul is so sore I can barely function.

Ghana....
What went wrong???
Victory was right in your grasp.
Because of you, Africa, a world cup starved continent almost touched that succulent dream of being the holder of the world's most sought after trophy for the very first time.
Oh golden Ghana...
Why? Why? Why?
MotherAfrica soaks in a fathomless sea of sorrow for you.

*heavyheart*

....

Argentina, kapena Brazil kungowina world cup this year, ine basi mpira sindidzaonelanso.
I hate the two teams above with....kodi ndigwiritse ntchito chichewa chake chiti kuti zimveke bwino bwino? Ok, I hate Argentina and Brazil with acidic detestation!! And cock head Diego Maradona, aarrrgh, just makes me SICK!

Ghana tiyeni! Chikho chathu chimenechi.
If not you, then Netherlands.

Lero ndiye eeish, tsiku latalika zedi. No footie, ndinangokhala kumamela mizu pampando. Ok, ng'ibukile a bit of men's tennis, but it wasnt that much fun. Roger Federer is out. Unbelievable! I guess this is really the beginning of the end for the 15-times-grandslammer.
Venus the grass queen was also stunned by the number 82nd seed. I wasnt at all impressed.
Komabe its not the end. Serena is still very much in it.
She is on court tomorrow against this new russian babe. Forgot her name, and I'm too lazy to google her. Kaya, she is not even in the top 100 ndiye akagwele!

Basi ndalemba kokwanila. Ndikagone tsopano. Koma eeish, not looking forward to going to bed. There is a new addition in the family, ndiye sikulira kwake. The whole night, kwe, kweee, kweee..kungobadwa ndi ufiti basi.
Zina inu timaziyamba dala..
Will upload photos of this new creature soon.
By the way, its another "HE". Ndiye you can imagine the testosterone in the house..
Ndilithawa banja ine..lol

Annoyed!

Have you ever looked forward to something so eagerly you thought the anticipation would kill you? I have. And it's poisonous to the soul.

You should all know by now that I am a tennis freak. I live for the Williams sisters.
Yeah, it's pathetic I know, living ones life for celebrities who don't even give a flying cow about you, but I can't help it.
Anyway, let me now tell you why I'm annoyed;
I had been looking forward to Serena Williams and Maria Sharapova fourth round Wimbledon battle that took place today since Friday. The way weekend dragged, I thought Monday was never gonna show it's magic face. But it did, and to my magnitude dismay, electricity decided to have one lengthy siesta just as soon as my anticipated match started showing on tv.
Boy was I enraged!

Anyhow, I'm still annoyed, but I hear Serena won the "Sharawill" battle in two sets. That at least brings some light to my foggy mood. The defending champion will meet Na Li (or is it Li Na? Chinese names, crazy!) in the quarters.
Venus also progressed to the last 8, and will have to dispatch kanepi for a place in the semis.
Kim Clijsters felt no mercy for her homegirl, Justine Henin, gifting her a good 6-3, 6-3 to become the victorious Belgian.

Golden Ghana!

I could explode with pride right now...
Wow, I say WOW...!
Living my life as if there is no tomorrow.
World cup, what will become of me when it's all over?

Ghana, the only African team still competing for the world cup, has just pulverised USA to reach the last eight of the gigantic football tournament. How unbelievably amazing is that, huh?
No one, not even ants gave Africa a chance. They all predicted DOOM, saying no African team was good enough to reach the last 16. And look at Ghana now? QUARTER FINAL! Yay!!!
Seeing the way the Americans played their first half, I think, like everybody else, they thought Ghana was going to be a walk over. What a miscalculation!

Well done Ghana!
Hope you go all the way....
Yeah, all the way!

*And at Wimbledon, Serena continues to injure egos..and aggressively. The Wimbledon reigning queen is such in an unforgiving form it's almost impossible to imagine anyone else besting her. Go Serena!
2morrow it's England vs German. I can't wait to see my Chelsea boys, Ashley Cole and John Terry at their defensive best.

Bad History in the Making..

So as the entire planet earth had expected, as soothsayers had foretold, South Africa will for generations and generations to come be remembered for being the first world cup hosts to be knocked out in the first stage. Bad history has been made!
But surprisingly for me, unlike the rest of Africa that's drowning in disappointment, the host's failure to qualify to the next round hasn't at all injured my patriotic spirit. I'm still firmly and proudly behind all my African teams whether they produce a win or not. I will still support them even when they lose humiliatingly.

I was there in Bloemfontein watching Bafana skin France alive, and I must say, never in my entire life had I been more proud of my African heritage than at that particular moment! The tres gorgeous boys played their final match like veritable champions. They might not have qualified to the last 16, but they should still froth with pride for their robust attitude as a team.
Viva Bafana, viva vuvuzela, viva Africa!!!

Motherland's world cup woes.

Hey Graceful,

Hope you are good. I haven't been better, myself.
World cup 2010 progresses beautifully, but I'm afraid Africa's dream for the grand trophy is almost over.
Abysmally disappointing!
Week one of the biggest football tournament being compered in South Africa for the first time has given us a graphic vision of the lack of football tactics among Africans.
Out of the five teams from our beautiful motherland that qualified for the world cup, only one (Ghana) has a chance to get through to the last 16. I tell you, that the saddest news I have had to cope with in a long time.
What is wrong with our nation, really? Are we that bad at everything, or we just don't work hard enough?

Anyhow, South Africa will most likely kiss the championship goodbye this afternoon. It's playing against France, another sinking ship, and the odds aren't in it's favour.

So my fellow Africans, let's work on blinking the tears back and celebrate our shame.
Let's all unite, hold our thick heads the highest and rejoice in the making of bad history..

*Wimbledon is in full swing in Great Britain. Vuvuzela NOT ALLOWED. Ha ha.
Roger Federer dallied with an early exit, but being one great champion, he managed to bend fate. Serena is looking superchic in her little White dress with some pinkish stripe. And she is playing venomous tennis. I haven't seen what her older sister Venus is wearing, but I sincerely hope she has her knickers on this time*
Impressive news: South Africa is leading 1-0 against france in the first half..

"Living with Evil" by Cynthia Owen.

Some things that take place in this life are sometimes too disturbingly pungent a human mind is never sound enough to process and understand them.



After the humiliating defeats African teams have so far faced at the world cup and all the frustrations around, I decided to take solace in a good book. Yeah, reading is always therapeautic. But gosh, what I read implicitly chilled my spine. It actually made me sick!

"Living with Evil", the title of the book, is a shockingly true story of an innocent little girl growing up in a badly disoriented home. Cynthia is her name.
Cynthia's own father rapes and sodomises her every other night from the time she turns eight till she is 15. Her mother is a souless drunk. She brings different men in the house to have their wicked ways with poor Cynthia. She gets her drunk, feeds her drugs and verbally abuses her. Cynthia's witch of a mum also sexually abuses her. There is one time where she commands her to take off her knickers and violently licks her privates.
What kind of sick mother would do that to her own child, her own flesh and blood?
At a tender age of 11 Cynthia falls pregnant. Her father is the father.
Cynthia gives birth to a baby girl who her mother stabs 40 times with a knitting needle. The baby bleeds to death.
23 years later, Cynthia wants justice...

I tell you, I have tried again and again to make sense of parents the likes of Cynthias, that Australian wacko who kept his daughter as a sex slave in a basement for decades.. What exactly goes on through their heads to inflict such cruelty on young innocent souls?
Earth is such a sick place to live in!

Tionele Mpira tsopano.

Bafana's June 16th loss.

Right now, as my blunt fingers highly appreciate the smooth touch of this screen I'm typing on, as my brain struggles to come up with the best vocabulary, every South African out there has emotions skyrocketing.

On the 16th of June 1976, South Africa lost 25 young lives in a dreadfully apartheid-influenced massacre. Now, exactly three decades and four years later, the 2010 world cup host country is bleeding sorrow once again. And this time no life has been lost, only hope. Yes, hope to be the first African country to host and win the mammoth football tournament. *SAD*
South Africa national football team, popularly known as Bafana, which in English means "boys", was in action playing against Uruaguay at world cup today. This was their second match, and a crucial one. The boys needed a win, especially after drawing in the opening match.
But sadly, the host team was gifted not "one", but "3" stinging goals. Now they are right at the edge of being booted out of the championship. It was purely heartwrenching watching the colourful nation have their hope smashed into pieces. Their pride punctured..their dreams in tatters.
I don't think Bafana played as badly as everyone else's saying. I actually think they played a way better than they did in the opening match. Uruguay first goal was a stupid, but at the same time honest error from one of the hosts' defenders. The second one, which was a penalty, was some real stinking luck. In my entire history as a soccer fan, I have never witnessed a goalkeeper being given a red card. *Somebumofaref*
And third goal was....aarrrgh..!! This hurts, boy!
Well..
SOMESMELLYLUCKINDEED!

*my sister, Lisa Simpson, is in bad form at the moment. She had to take sedatives on top of alcohol to go to bed. Ha ha! Before she passed out she asked me how come I wasn't hurting as bad, I told her the good thing about getting your heart broken so many times is that you eventually become immune to pain. Heaven know how many times being Serena's avid fan has almost dragged me to an early grave. God knows how much I have cried over Chelsea...
Pano kupima uku.

C y'all 2morrw.

Viva vuvuzela!

Ha ha, vuvuzela is the hot topic all over earth right now.
The noisy Plastic trumpet which has always been used, especially by South Africans, during celebrations will never be the same after world cup 2010.
Vuvuzelas are being blown 24/7 all over South Africa as part of celebrating the biggest football championship that is on the African soil for the very first time. And the noise these trumpets have created is beyond defeaning.
A lot of people, mostly non-africans, have complained about vuvuzela and asked FiFA to do something about it.
But of course there is nothing anyone can do. Vuvuzela shall continue shattering eardrums and causing migraines till the 11th of July 2010.

I am one of the poor souls badly affected by this endless noise around South Africa. I haven't slept a wink since world cup, and have an eternal splitting headache. But inspite of my condition, I'm one big vuvuzela fan. I'm totally against it being barred.
I believe that every world cup championship should have something unique that will forever linger in people's minds.
And in this world cup case that something unique is "vuvuzela".

Ghana, Africa's creme de la creme.

Tell me of an African soul who isn't over the sun for Ghana's mighty victory at the world cup today. Even I, amidst a tres foggy hangover, am celebrating.
Ghana made Africa proud!
That's all I have to say today.

C y'all 2morrow.

*Mowaulibemb'alewake*

The English Goalie...

What a shame for the English football warriors. Indeed, Some massively rotten luck for the goalkeeper! But on the other hand, a draw isn't that bad. At least it's better than losing..

The problem with England is not with the players, it lies with us the fans. "kusakhutitsidwa" Greed. My drunken sister who up until today knew nada about football is making noise about my praising Wayne Rooney for nothing. She thinks I'm just blowing his vuvuzela when I say he's one of the best strikers in the world simply cuz he didn't score today. Comeee ooon!
And every other England fan online is busy complaining.... Geez, Get a grip guys! The guys sweated blood in that pitch. The did everything they could. Ok, the goalie gaffed big, but who doesn't? "To err is human, and to forgive divine". Let's all forget about him having a "slip" and read in between the quote.

Would you have played better yourself had you been in that pitch, with the weight of world on your ass?
Would you have prevented the hawler had you been in Rob Green's unfortunate position?
I don't think so!
So sew your wide traps with twine and just enjoy the world cup. It's on our African soil, man.
*KENAKO*

As the World cup journey continues...

"oh I wish it could be world cup everyday..."
That's the track in my head right now.

Wow, seriously, world cup should be there all the time. Yours truly is sloshed and having a time of her life!

So 'mnzansi' went against all odds to draw in their opening match. That was a big surprise indeed! Even I expected a loss from them. But I'm glad Africa was saved from a copious humiliation.
The Bafana were more than nervous in the first half of the game, but managed to settle in the second. "bafana bavukile", that's what I said after the first goal from SA.
Substitute Tshabalala outtackled the speedy Mexicans and right into the net went the ball, putting the host team ahead for a few minutes before their opponents equalized.
It was a brilliant play. I still can not believe the chances Mexico missed...

Right now I've just seen the end of Argentina and Nigerian match. That was sugary, man! Even though Nigeria, my favourite in the world cup, lost, they played their damnest best against the South American football beasts.
And Diego Maradona, gosh, what a Jackass!

And congratulations to South Korea who had a slide (2-0) over Greece.

I'm now waiting for England Vs USA.
Oh yeah, behind England I shall be...

*DRUNK*

Wakawaka eeeh eeh

Let's all go and wholeheartedly cheer for our tres handsome "Bafana".

*Vuvuzela*

If there is one thing that will forever remain an irritaing, but also fascinating memory of Fifa world cup 2010 in people's minds, (especially the ones who are in SA right now) that is surely "Vuvuzela".

Ok, so today marks the last day of countdown. Tonight is the night Vuvuzelas shall cause catastrophic damages to many eardrums. Ha!
I'll have to glue cotton wool into my ears and sleep in the basement to escape the sweetly chaotic inevitability..

The best of luck to Bafana tomorrow!


*just so you know, I started practising Buddhaism*

FIFA World cup 2010.

Hello Graceful,

Yours truly has now completed the Sorcery PhD. She is now a qualified lady of the "night". Oh how heavenly it feels to be back!
My fingers badly missed the sweet sensation it normally gets from the keyboard whilst typing. And my brain was in deep depression from lack of activity.
But I'm glad I took the break. Scribbling feels brand new. Being idle for so long has somehow given me this overpowering zeal to write more. It's like falling in love for the first time - the novelty of the first kiss. It's like discovering a new hobby. I feel like am scribbling for the first time and it feels *divine*
My dear Graceful, nothing beats the rich feeling of creating life by merely adding words together. Imagine your whole life story in a couple of pages?

Anyway, the real story all over planet earth is FIFA world cup 2010. The huge quadrennial sporting event is once again on, and this time taking place in Africa - our mother land. How amazing!

FIFA world cup 2010 kicks off on the 11th of June, 48 hours from now, in Egoli, (Johannesburg) South Africa.
You can not begin to comprehend the excitement right now, especially that coming from the city of Gold.
The colours yellow and green have taken over. My good gracious God, South Africa has never looked more golden!

More than a decade ago, I never at all wasted time on FiFA world cup. I thought it pointless to watch or be excited about an event that bore the title "world cup" but only consisted of teams from everywhere else around the world, except Africa. And the reality that our beautiful
continent had never been given the honour to host was like an insult to a critical injury. I considered that racism at it's finest!

But today I'm one of the souls badly hit by world cup pyrexia. Eish, *FEVER* I don't think I can wait any longer. I feel like I'm gonna burst trying to contain all the exhiliration. Oh yeah, the great soccer tournament is finally happening right at home. Every African is allowed to act loco:) it's our continent, our FiFA, our time.
Bafana Bafana, the host team, takes on Mexico on the very first day of this grand event. "kulambula bwalo". The whole world seems to think South Africa will go into a history of host teams that have embarrasses themselves by losing their opening match. But will it defy the odds and survive?
I guess we have to wait for Friday:)
I'm not a Bafana Bafana avid fan, but I wish it the very best comes Friday. It has worked tremendously hard and just like all other teamss competing, it would cherish being champions.
I'm supporting Nigeria this time around. My sister thinks that's crazy... But, eeish, "Makonda-makonda". Coooome on, Nigeria!!!!

Let's enjoy this great quadrennial football event and rejoice. Mbava ndi ena onse okonda chisokonezo musapezelepo mpata...... Let's all unite and make world cup 2010 the more memorable. Let's make South Africa proud!

Till later.

While I'm still making futile attempts to make sense of this life, I've decided to take up art: sorcery :)
I wanna know how it feels like to levitate on brooms and needles.
I wanna experience the magic of being supernaturally above gravity...

So Graceful, yours truly is gonna disconnect from reality for quite a while.
Till later!!!