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.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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?
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?
Monday, July 19, 2010
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!
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!
Sunday, July 18, 2010
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!
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.!
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.!
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, July 12, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, July 9, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, July 5, 2010
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?
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, July 4, 2010
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!
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!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, July 2, 2010
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*
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*
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