His Old Wicker Chair: A Tribute

Even after the commercials and campaigns, the message only makes sense when the disease hits home, when it knocks on your door and enters without a welcome. When medication pills become an important part of your life.

You see, I’ve been watching him from across the room,everyday, seated in his old wicker chair. His eyes are glassy and wide, it makes me wonder about the thoughts that march past his mind.

I crave noise, any noise, even that of the wind. Anything to listen to because the silence that is now my life is no longer friendly and warm. There is a poisoned silence that floats through the rooms. We no longer have friends; we only have each other and yes...music. I turn on the radio, the music is indifferent but I let myself flow into it. I let it pluck the pains I have been hiding and avoiding.

It’s lunch time; I bring him a bowl of hot mushroom soup. I watch the slow unsteady movement of his scrawny hands and realize his bones are thinning along his skin, his muscles withering away to nothing; this is the only record of his lost past and shortened future. I can’t help but wonder how life would have been. The questions. What if? What if, he was never blind to the journey ahead? What if he lived responsibly, would he still be seated there, would I be here watching him waste away before my eyes like a song fading into silence?


Forget it. It’s too late to ask questions. Even the clock knows its time for him to go. Each sway of its pendulum feels like his being summoned to his grave. He is quiet; a tear travels down his cheek, but he does not wipe it. His empty gaze tells me he is already lost in a world unknown, waiting for the time.

The sun sets again. Days have dressed into weeks and the months have given birth to years and all the while, I have watched his life go down the drain. I look at him and I see a million things I will miss when he leaves; the way we danced to agreeable upbeat classic music and the way his arms made me feel at home.
Sorrow swells in me. I want to cry. Everyday I gather enough courage to let him go but I cannot imagine what I will do when he dies.


There is a light fall drizzle at the window. I can feel the cold outside. I listen to the winds whispering. I bet he is listening to it to. I envelop him in his old quilt, blow out the candle, turn off the lights and leave him to sleep in his old wicker chair.

It’s a new day but doesn’t feel that way. Everyday has been like a play rehearsal; repeating itself, only this is real life and for him everyday gets worse. Today I walk into his room. I shake his cold arm, but he moves not. I knew it would happen but I didn’t think it would be today. Perhaps it was the color in today’s sky, still it is too soon. He is only thirty. It can’t be.

For a minute I look into his eyes to search for that man I fell in love with, the man who was the life of the party, who had strength, but there’s nothing, not even that once boyish twinkle. Now there remains a sudden silence where his voice made noise.

I shut his eyes, tenderly.

It’s been years since he left me and the sun still rises and sets, but in his place lays an aching quietness that not even music can replace. I feel alone. Everything is different. Even the world smells different. Now I sit in his old wicker chair, for I too wait patiently for my story to come to an end. I look at Atieno, she is only Five. Innocent. She has her father’s eyes.


She looks at me from across the room; innocently happy. Her tiny feet dangle mid-air from the chair as she hums a wordless tune that I remember from my childhood. I fear for her; my little girl Atieno. She did not choose this life that she lives. She unknowingly waits for the day that the sand in my hour glass will finally shift to the bottom and I will be no more.

As i look at Atieno, i silently pray she lives to experience her first period and teenage birthdays, her graduation and marriage, and not sit in this old wicker chair where her father and I died.


For for those who's lives were cut short by HIV/AIDS and to us all; Let us choose Life!

Photo by JojoDee

Through The Eyes of a Child

On most Sundays I get a lot of time to relax, relate, reflect and most importantly time to release. I get to notice the silly little things I’m normally too busy to note; like the fact that my neighbour’s one year old baby now walks and tries to call me ‘Tati’.

This past Sunday as I walked home from church, I watched the neighbourhood kids playing in their Sunday best. The girls in their fancy little flowery dresses, jumping ropes and playing hopscotch and the little boys playing with their handmade football wearing over sized bow ties and trying to be men in their tiny suits and not so polished shoes.

I saw something in their eyes, heard something in their hilarity; a certain innocence. There is a way certain songs, smells and even noises can take you back to a specific time and place in your life. Well, seeing those kids rustled in me certain memories of my own childhood. It took me back to the Saturdays my sisters and I spent at Aiken village park sleeping on tyre swings looking up at the sun as the swing circled continuously.

These are warm memories of when life was simple; when the biggest decision I had to make was choosing whether I wanted to wear white socks or pink stockings, drink tea or brown porridge. Many years later; here I am. Leaves of time drop from the branches and before they reach the ground and lie still, I realize so many things have changed. I have changed.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and a stranger looks back at me. I stopped dreaming about touching the skies, now I only think of how I'll work to get the milk and butter. I stopped believing in the strength of effortless prayers made at 4am, the simplicity of faith in things not yet seen. I let the world in and it dictated my innocence, it told me how hard it would be to make it. It imparted fears i never knew of and slowly took away my courage. I packed away all my childhood dreams in that little box that contained simple immature stories written in the playground swings and verses of poems scribbled seated at the back of the bus and stored it away.

When did life get so complicated? When did we stop listening to the sound of music? What happened to the openness and spontaneity? While we were busy scheduling meetings and making conference calls and what not; the world silently robbed us of the joy found in the little things in life, like dancing in the rain.

Now I realize how much I have let adulthood box me in. I want to become a child again; to maintain my maturity but still experience the ease and enthusiasm of a child. I want to put away the apathy and stuffy maturity and cuddle life once more.

I want to believe in the limitless possibilities of faith, to face life with the courage of a child who sees a lion but still wants to go pat its back. I want that innocence of that child who sees evil but knows tomorrow will be better.

I want to be a child again. I want to live life through the eyes of a child.

Art by Edwin Lester

A Note To Him

On Saturday I found myself back to that place where you took me for my birthday; that quaint candy shop and part eatery; eclectic in the right measures. But there was no sign of humanity except for the employees closing up. I stood by the window with my groceries for what seemed like hours, but in actuality it was five passing minutes, reminiscing on that day and how you had given into my childhood addiction of cotton candy and sat through hours watching the inner child in me come to life.

There is something special about you; it is so many things put together; like how you hold my hand in traffic because you know my fear of fast moving cars. It is the way you are not afraid to show affection despite the unwavering stares from strangers. How you pose for my spontaneous photos and listen to my crazy stories even when you don't understand a thing I'm saying. It is the way you act my doctor when I’m unwell and how you believe in my dreams and breathe life into them even before I do.

It is the random calls or texts just to ask if my day is okay and the way I know I can count on you to be on the other end of the telephone after a grueling day or when life sucks. It is the way you know me so well; how you know I love my brawn sandwiches with mustard and my ice cream in chocolate flavor. It is the very way you know every inflection of my voice, every look and read every silent signal.

Other times it is how you make weird things enjoyable; like how you teach me old skool songs and the way you repeatedly name Arsenal players for me when we are watching football.

I like that now I can go for a car show and enjoy every minute of it; you made it so much fun the first time you took me. I can’t forget those times in college we kept each other awake studying for finals and writing those obnoxiously long-winded term papers; we made it!

There are times I’ve secretly enjoyed arguing with you about which radio station to tune to ; Neo-soul or Classic.

It is the prayers we've shared and the quiet breakfast mornings at Maggie’s, the late night conversations in spite of the sleep and the surprise lunches amidst our busy schedules, the midnight calls and morning texts, the little presents for no apparent reason, the ice cream dates and motorcycle rides, the long walks and comforting hugs.

But its more than the good times; the graduations and anniversaries, the birthdays and parties. Even after the irritations and problems, disappointments and past mistakes, silly arguments and angry silences; I have found in you greater virtues of love such as tolerance and patience, forgiveness and loyalty. You have accepted me just the way I am. With you i can be me, weaknesses and all.

India Arie knows exactly what i feel every time i hear her sing 'He heals me' on repeat. You are that man to me. Looking back at all the moments, the memories, the years gone by, I realize I have found in you a wonderful man and a best friend.

Yours Truly.

Artwork by David Garibaldi

Through The Wilderness

There comes a time; a moment in everyone’s life when for a time, we go off course; those very moments when we fail, make mistakes, we are knocked down or loose direction and therefore get lost in the wilderness. It’s at these times; in the wilderness that we respond by retaliating against the world, against those who’ve hurt us, against ourselves and runaway from our problems, weaknesses and mistakes, our failures,hurts and disappointments.

It's at these times that we must choose to fight to get back our lives, to mend the wrongs, to face the choices we have made and return to the right paths.
And its true, we might get back on track and have to start over. Others will have gone further journey, walked a mile ahead, conquered and achieved more, but you are on a different journey; your own personal journey that can never match any one else. Therefore you do not to worry; you are not just a conqueror, but more than a conqueror.

Because you have come from a war alive; with scars and wounds but alive. You got lost in a world unknown to you but you found your way home. You have been tested but you persevered, you have fought the battle and it has made you stronger.

It doesn’t matter what your wilderness is; it might be getting out of a bad relationship, going through pain of loosing someone,recovering from hurt, suffering a breakdown, having made wrong choices or bad mistakes. Whatever it is, it’s there to strengthen you, to help you learn and grow.


For Shanice; because it doesn't matter what you are going through, I will help you breathe. For you have been there for me countless times and because your wilderness is mine.

Photo by : Kevin "WAK" Williams

Have a lovely weekend everyone!

Woman To Woman

I think its time we sat down,
Woman to woman
To compare our notes
And settle the scores.
Let’s skip the introductions
But please take notes
Because this is vital information
I know you are his girlfriend,
But I’m his wife; the mother of his children.
Why do you look shocked?
You thought this was some courtesy call?
I already knew about you
It’s called female intuition, hotel receipts and cheap perfume.

Woman to woman,
This time he truly out did himself.
You look better than I expected,
A lot like me when I was younger
But two sizes smaller.
Don’t be scared.
I won’t hit you.
Not because I can’t
But because I don’t want to resort to violence.
Let me guess,
You must be 26, with a basic university degree,
And here you are creeping with my husband Charles
Just because he gets your rent paid,
Your hair did and he drives a Cadillac.

Pssshhhhht…
Woman please…
Woman to woman
This is an old story
I’ve seen this before.
But I know you’d rather be the one
He cheats with
Than the one he cheats on.
You are no different.
He’ll get you addicted
Then before you know it,
You’ll be just like Beth, Mary and Allison


I know all about the silent arrangements.
You have him on Saturdays
I get him on Sundays,
You get the weekend getaways,
I get the leftover days.
I know on Valentines he gave you expensive jewelry
And I only got the groceries...
But I’m not complaining.
Woman to woman
I just wish he would be precise
When he is getting his conjugal rights,
Coz I’m tired of him calling me Ashley
When I know my name hasn’t changed from Tracey.

So what does he call you?
Baby, Sweetie, Honey
He calls me all that too
Psssthttt…
I know this man like the
Back of my hands
I got ten years of marriage under my belt.
I’ve memorized his tired lines
Tired of looking after his tired arse.
Woman to woman,
I wonder how you put up with him at all
Oh... wait a minute, you still on the honeymoon period.
Then He’ll take up his fishing rod
And look for the next blonde.


Honey,
Take a hard look at me...
Woman to woman,
I have no job with three kids
A big house but no marriage bliss.
So when you’ve looked long enough
I suggest you run for the hills
Coz in a year, maybe two
This will be you,
A stay home wife
Knocked up with his third child.

It was nice having this conversation.
I wanted to make myself clear so
We avoid future confrontations.
And before I forget,
Don’t leave those flirty voice mails on my answering machine
Coz next time you do that,
I promise it will get ugly.
Just so you don’t forget.
You are his good time,
His one, two, maybe three night stand
But I’m his wife, and at the end of the day
He sleeps in my bed.


So woman to woman! I demand some respect!
All Rights Reserved
© 2009 Tricia.M.

I Was Here

There are certain people who come into our lives; some for minutes, others for hours and some it’s a matter of days and before these people leave our lives they make an impact, bring a certain change, shine a definite light; some by their words or their their actions of love and others by the very fact that they cared enough to believe in our dreams no matter how unreachable they seemed.

For some of these people, it's a one day experience; we may never meet them again, others have always been in our lives and even though you don’t talk to them every other day, We know they have touched our lives; they were there and that’s something we carry with us everyday.


For me, it’s so many people wrapped up in one; it’s my elementary school teacher, the one who gave me all that extra work; the many books to read and mandatory reports to write. She helped me find and nurture my true passion. I didn’t understand it then but I do now. I will never forget her because she believed I was special; ‘she was there’.

There was also Shaye; my childhood friend. I will never forget that day we sat on the swings, our tiny legs dangling off the ground. I remember how depressed I felt because the kids in my class kept making fun of the fact that my skin was darker, my hair thicker and kinky and my legs a little longer than theirs. I remember her holding my hand as she told me; 'black was beauty'. And similar to how an asthma patient never forgets their inhaler; I carried those words with me all these years, and even though we haven’t talked in ten years, I can never forget how she helped me rid the misconception of beauty at an early age; 'She was there’ for me.

Life is really about people and the everyday difference we can make their lives. It doesn’t have to be heroic acts; it’s just that little something you can give to someone, the little differences that make up a whole difference to someone, like tiny threads that eventually make up a yarn. So that one day they will look back and say ‘she was here’ or ‘he was here' and be grateful for your having walked into their lives.

I’m intrigued by an anonymous sprayer I’ve never met but who I’ve seen his work. He sprays graffiti on walls around our estate and everywhere he goes, with a key message of keeping peace alive. I once bordered a bus on my way to work and on the seat it was written ‘XXX was here.’ Now every time I think of peace I think of him.

He really got me thinking; how will people know that I once walked through their lives, what will I leave behind after an hour or a day’s experience with them, how will someone remember me…how will they know that ‘I was here?’

How will they know that ‘you were here’?

'My life is my message'~ Mahatma Gandhi

Have a great weekend y'all!

The One About The Weekend and The Ones Who Left Too Soon

It’s rained all weekend. I stayed indoors for the better part of it because of this. There is something amazing about being indoors, a certain coziness to it all, like what you feel when you hang out at a side walk café and you zone out amidst the cacophony of chatter, laughter and the soothing jazz songs. And this gives the perfect opportunity to let your thoughts disappear amid the distant murmur of voices of a crowded world.

This weekend was a concoction of a lot of random things; much more like a cocktail drink, but this one was a little sore, not what I really expected. I indulged in a lot of impulse buying, caught up on episodes of Gossip girl, Grey’s Anatomy and Army Wives, made that long weekend call to mum and was questioned about my diet, current body weight and cooking skills, woke up early to go to church, wrote emotional journal entries and during that unexpected black out with candles; painted my toenails a delicate color of silver.

Everything was fine; I was getting used to the cold rainy morning, up until the time I read that facebook message. In a few words; I found out that you had lost him in a tragic accident, the man you’d hoped someday to spend the rest of your life with. There’s an eerie quietness that I feel now, nothing close to the unimaginable pain you must be going through. To know that you are hurting hurts me too.

And all this reminds me of her and how her death was also sudden. I remember how she used to irritatingly throw strawberries at me on facebook and how her wall posts piled up because I was always too busy to reply. Now she’s gone; not on one of her long travels to a neighbouring country, like I tried to convince myself, but gone forever. Sometimes when life hands me too many lemons and I just need to release; I’m tempted to call her at 2AM and I do; maybe silently hoping that she will pick up my call like old days, only to realize the number is no longer in service.

I remember how she’d force me to pose for her many photography projects; I would do anything to bring back those memories, even pose for a hundred ridiculous photos. I can't forget the countless times we sat down at that café, sharing chocolate Swiss rolls. That very last time, you reminded me to live and laugh and stop stressing over the little things. It was like you knew you’d leave all too soon and I’d have to fair on.

Before you left and many others too; I lived a fairy tale life; in which friends don’t get killed by drunk drivers and die young, but live full lives. For a long time, my life felt stuck like that faulty elevator on the fifth floor of our building. I remember waking up the next day and life seemed to be moving on. I wondered how people around me could still go on with life and how my alarm clock could still wake me up at 6am for work like nothings happened. The swift moving on of the world around me hurt my feelings a little, no, a lot…but I realized, though hard, life must go on...We must live on!

Today morning I found myself in a somewhat angry conversation with God and nothing made sense. I wanted answers. Like how could life be so easily broken without the slightest warning? But He reminded me to live!

Right now I’m seated in the office. It’s raining outside. I have John Legend’s song, ‘Someday’ on repeat.I need to feel the music. All this is clearer now. This post is no longer about my release, its for anyone who’s lost someone or knows someone who’s lost someone.

We may not have the answers to the ‘why’s’ of this life but we have the answer to today; that is to live. We have the now, the people who are still here with us. Loosing someone is really not something we get used to, instead one day we wake up in the morning and its not the first thing that hits you. Lets not get caught up in the why’s and forget what we should really do is live.

Live life and love the people who make your life, love them hard and make everyday matter.

'So many times we take the people in our lives for granted. Beginning today,treat everyone you meet as if they were not going to be alive tomorrow. Extend to them all the care,kindness and understanding you can muster &do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.'~unknown

painting by Michael Wallace

Everyday People

It’s interesting how complete strangers can weave silently into our everyday lives and how their presence is significant in a way that may be hard to explain. I think I feel that way about the elderly woman and the Asian baby who I constantly meet walking down the sidewalk early in the morning, and the point five Indian girl who I mostly find standing right outside the mall by 7:45 AM looking at her watch as if waiting for somebody important.

It’s a surprise how these people have unknowingly been part of my life since I started working. On most mornings, like today, when I’m stuck in traffic for those ten, twenty even thirty minutes and the person seated next to me is either catching up on missed sleep or reading the morning newspaper, I on the other hand, find myself looking outside the window trying to spot either the elderly woman and the young Asian boy or the Indian girl; and when I do, I try to follow them with the slow motion of the moving bus.

But this is more about Mary; the woman who mops the floor in our building and how I’ve gotten used to instinctively timing myself with her daily cleaning routine. Mary has grown on me; if I find her moping on fourth floor, I know I’m early to work and we have time to chat a little about the day, the weather and why she doesn’t wear heels. And on busy Monday mornings when I find her finishing up on 1st floor, I know I’m very late and we can only exchange quick compliments and I’m off to the office.

Sometimes when I make random conversations with Mary, she opens up and tells me about her life and what she is going through. Though at first I didn’t want to get involved, I didn’t want to sit down and listen because that would mean feeling helpless, not knowing how to help. But then I realized, she didn’t need me to solve her problems or give her money,she just needed someone to listen to her story.

I’ve learned a lot from Mary; how through our stories, perfect strangers can be so familiar and how sometimes we can get so involved in ourselves and our lives that we underestimate simple things like the power of a greeting, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment,a helping hand, a random text or call to a long lost friend just to say hello, or the smallest act of care, even to a stranger. These alone can change somebody’s life or their situations; knowing someone cares.

There are billions of people in this world. People from all walks of life, right now some of them are just waking up or eating breakfast and others are now going to bed after a long days work…we may never get to meet all these people, but everyday as we walk the streets of life, we unthinkingly meet a daughter who just wants to be loved, a son trying to stop a habit, someone’s husband whose just trying to make ends meet, someone’s wife whose trying to come out of an abusive relationship....we may bump into these people and assume they are nameless faces in a crowd, yet deep within, they are souls searching and silently screaming to be heard, to be loved, for someone, anyone out there to take the time to show them that they care.

Everyone we meet, is either afraid of something, loves something or has lost something. Whenever you get the chance be kind to the people in our lives because you may not know the battles they are fighting. ~ Jackson Brown

The Journey

Sometimes i look around me, at everyone else and how things unfold and i find myself comparing my life with that of others. I'm constantly reminding myself not to compare myself and my life with others.
I'm learning that everyone is on a personal journey, going through different experiences and living different lives that cannot and will never match anyone else's.
Right now you are where you need to be to get to where you are going. I hope i can remember this. :)

Have a great weekend people!

photocredits from here

Rain, Guilty Pleasures and Gratitude Journal

The cold has just set in and its been raining a lot lately.This weekend I went shopping for closed shoes to replace the signature sandals I love wearing, something about not wanting to slip on mud as I’m going to work, hence being forced me to go back home to look for something else to change into therefore being a potential bad day.
The weekend was great. I absolutely indulged in some shopping, movies and a lot of serious junk food. I feel guilty because i had purposed to eat healthy , now I'm back to square one. Plus, why is it that when I’m broke, I tend to spend more money. Like this weekend. I knew I had close to nothing but that didn’t stop me from buying new shoes and trying out new ice cream and chocolate flavors. You’d think I’d save the last shillings for food or something important like electricity (which reminds me i haven't paid yet) but no, I had to just close my eyes and hang around the candy shop. :(
*sigh*
It’s also this weekend that I learned about being grateful. A lot of times I wake up in the morning and start complaining about this or that, this normally goes on till the end of the day. On Sunday while I was buying groceries, outside the supermarket, was this blind man. He normally stands at the exit with his tin and begs for money. I must admit I have a weak heart coz I never pass him without dropping something. Well it was really raining and there was another crippled man seated on the pavement with a tin too, being rained on and all. I felt sad.Really.

It’s at that point that I thanked God for my life and every good thing He has blessed me with. Sometimes we take it for granted; life, its beauty and the blessings given to us.

I’ve realized it’s so easy to take those things for granted, the small things like having food or shelter. I mean, we wake up in the morning in good health, go to work or do your normal day to day activities ; take three meals during the day and sleep at night and think its normal. Have you ever imagined taking one meal in a day, not because you are on some diet, but because you do not have?

Even with what we have, good health, family and friends, jobs to go to and homes to come back to, we still have something to complain about.
If its not the clothes we have, its annoying bosses or workmates, if not that, it might be our neighbours or something else. And not that we should downplay our problems. Its just that once in awhile, correction..every chance we get, we should be thankful.

Sometimes its when I look outside of my world, when i stop focusing on myself and all things wrong, that I realize I have so much to be thankful for. Its not a must to be healthy and alive, it’s a blessing.Its not that I'm more special than the blind man who stands outside the supermarket begging or that child in the hospital fighting cancer..all these things are blessings.

Anyway, today i decided that I'll be keeping a gratitude journal, or just write a gratitude note listing things I'm grateful for everyday when i wake up. There is a certain humility when we have an attitude of gratitude and we make room for receiving more..
Have a great week everyone :)

To Mama

Ever since I was young, I wanted your God, I prayed that one day I would find your God; that man that had you high on some rare joy. I watched every Sunday afternoon as you indulged in your addiction of baking pumpkin pies and chocolate cakes while you sang along to some old gospel songs. You had so much joy, something that I too wanted. And I remember the countless mornings when you'd wake up, earlier than the rest of us and in my sleep, I could hear you in your room praying. I always knew when you got on your knees, your God was somewhere listening, getting ready to do something big.

It seems like your God was always in the miracle making business, it was beyond healing the coughs and colds or the midnight headaches; He provided when we didn't have plenty, therefore we were never in need. Like that time we didn't know where we were going to get out next plate, you were not worried at all and we never slept hungry.

I miss those Saturday afternoons you used to take us to the park. We'd play on the slides and swings, we were just kids without a care in the world.I secretly watched you sitting silently at a far corner meditating. At the time I didn't know what you were talking to your God about, but now that I'm grown, I find myself doing the same; having silent conversations with God when I feel lost and alone needing answers for my problems.

Mama, I wanted your God, that God that gave you all that peace and joy even when the bills were late and that nasty electricity man was constantly knocking at the door..Still, this did not keep you from going to church every Sunday and dropping the little you had in the offering plate.

I recall the Sunday mornings when you'd sit me down with a hot comb to untangle my kinky hair into a nice straight perm. You'd tell me stories from the Bible; Joseph, David , Abraham and the great things your God did for them in the years past. You loved to help us memorize bible verses and even gave us a few cents to encourage us. Now I know it wasn't really about the money, but so that we'd have something to get us through life with.

Sometimes in church, I'd watch you from the back row as you raised your hand in worship and I'd see you tear up. I was scared that you had so many problems or that we gave you too much work, but then I realized when you cried, those were tears of joy in your eyes.

Mama I love that your God replaced your fear for faith..and He was able to shield us from harm on those fateful days when we were considered the 'wrong tribe' and we were on the move trying to find safety. It was your God that protected us.

I'm older now and I understand what the big fuss was all about. You told me about your God and my life has really changed.Half the times, I don't understand your God's mysterious ways but He remains your God and now He has become my God.



For mum, for giving me something greater than life ;introducing me to her God.

Sticky Notes, India Arie and What not not

Okay maybe not in that order but that's how life has been. October really caught me by surprise.

These days I've become this robot who gets out of the house in the morning, arrives at work and first thing on my list is to create my music play list to get me through the day, and before i know it, its 5pm and all I want is that bus ride sleep on my way home.

I no longer get time to listen to dramatic morning radio shows or take random pictures of the sun set in the evening , instead there's been a lot of never ending meetings (thank God for tic-tac toe), difficult people who make it hard to get through a normal day without revising my anger management notes and sticky reminder notes on my computer screen, my bedroom wall and basically everywhere.

And when the sticky notes failed and they got lost (with important instructions from the boss) somewhere between my bag and desk, i resorted to saving reminders on my phone..now that Gossip Girl theme song * U Know You Love Me* that I use for the reminders , keeps me on my toes.

*long sigh*

My only consolation is when I get to work earlier than the rest, I get to listen to India Arie and Anthony Hamilton. That takes me through the first thirty minutes of the morning in peace, before people start making demands and leave my office without closing the door.

*another long sigh*

Nobody told me juggling two day jobs (which I'm very thankful for) was going to be like this; I dislike routine and I do miss my random ways. Sleep has practically taken over such addictions like hanging around dusty book stands and antic shops and even indulging in some 'in the middle of the week' retail therapy. Even the guy at the video store has noticed I don't swap movies anymore.

So I've decided from now on, its going to be different. I've been working with a 'to-do list' this week and I kinda like it, some order. So I made one for this month;

1.Buy a new book for the month and read a chapter everyday before i sleep
2.Read and meditate on the bible everyday (even if its just a verse)
3.Avoid that take away joint and try to cook some real food.
4.Take a random photo everyday, even if its of my nails in that black nail polish or that of a car in motion.
5.Stop worrying about ever little thing..instead pray.
6.Go to church every Sunday even if I've woken up late and i have laundry waiting.
7.Involve myself in a little impulse buying
8.Get my breasts checked.( never done it before )
9.Go to some random park and enjoy the peace.
10. Write as often as i can and blog every week.

And that takes care of my October, so far so good.

Have a great month y'all.

"20 years from now you will be more disappointed
at the things that you didn't do
than by the ones you did do.
Explore, Dream. Discover. -Twain"

Happy New Year to Me!

It’s Thursday morning. As I walked to work today, everything was unchanged; I saw the same man at the newspaper stand, I met the same people I meet everyday, hurriedly walking to work, I met the janitor who always greets me with a smile and work is still work but there is something different.

It’s not the normal -wake up in the morning look for clothes to wear-Thursday. It’s my birthday Thursday. If feels different, from the new Lauryn Hill music I downloaded to the lovely breeze, It’s different. It’s like how it felt when I sat around with my family and friends last year to toast the birth of a New Year. Everything felt different, the air, the sun, even the people that I met that day; there was something different in theirs faces, a certain hope in their smiles, in what lay ahead.
That’s how I feel right now.
A certain special feel to the day, even though deep down I know it’s just a change of numbers and everything else is still the same.
So now I say goodbye to twenty three. So much has happened. I met some great people and lost some friends. There were lots of tears and heartbreak, laughter and pain. New cravings and addictions. There was graduation, oh graduation; the joy I felt walking up that podium to get my first degree and the fear that I would slip and fall because it was the first time I actually wore six-inch heels.
All in all, I lived and enjoyed.
So I’m growing older but my heart is still young. There things that haven’t changed; like the way I make silly faces at my siblings and randomly stick out my tongue at annoying strangers, my silly journal musings and the music that I sing in the morning. I will forever dance in the rain even if I get sick and socking wet. On most days, I will still rush home from work so I can watch my favourite cartoons. :)
*long sigh*
However, I know a lot of things will change, like the decisions I make and the directions I choose to take. I will embrace these changes with open arms.
I’ve learnt to live this beautiful life and not take it too serious. So when the deadlines are too many and life feels too congested; I will not hesitate to get rid of the uptight conservative office look, let down my hair, put on my dancing shoes and enjoys some random karaoke and even rock music.
I’ve discovered it’s not so much the big things that get to me and make life worth living; it’s all the little tiny threads; the lazy Sunday afternoons and long walks, random conversations with my little niece and office mates, the laughter in the rain and the silences when there is nothing to say.

I'm really thankful for the texts, facebook messages and wall posts, the midnight birthday calls and the surprise presents. I'm still not sure what i want this year, maybe cotton candy or I'll probably get drunk on ice cream (coz on normal days I'm too busy thinking about my bills), or spend the weekend with close friends, but this year I will live, love and laugh some more because He has brought me this far and I’m truly blessed.

Here is to newness.

On Bathrooms, Release & God's faithfulness

...........I know it might not make sense to you but in my world it does.

Relax, Relate, RELEASE!
I always try to remind myself that.Breathe in and out a couple of times and it will be fine.

Remember when i was ranting here about my lack of a job etc. Well on Monday i was having one of those days that required me to relax, relate and release..I woke up late, caught a bus that left us all stranded so i had to walk to work, got to my internship place late, found someone had messed up my work and that i had loads of work waiting for me and there and then,i closed my office door and i wanted to scream, shout, even cry because i felt like everything was falling apart and to make it worse, on a Monday morning! I just told God i needed His favor and left it at that.

I really don't think it was about that irritating bus that left me stranded during the morning rush hour or the fact that i had a deadline by 12pm and countless other things to do..i just needed to RELEASE! I think i wanted to scream because of all the issues i was dealing with and trying to suppress inside of me, not necessarily work.
And........
That's why i love bathrooms. I've loved them since i was a littler (my word). When i was young i loved staying in the bathroom, that's where i would go to cry, talk to Jesus, read magazines and novels and sometimes hide from chores. Its peaceful, i feel at home, i feel i can release, cry , wash my face and once I'm out of the place, I'm okay, nobody would even know something was wrong.
But i haven't had a chance to do that. In a long time. Life has become such a routine. You know, waking up, checking mail, facebook, hustle for a bus, work, work, work, lunch (at 4pm),power nap, dinner, sleep. I hardly get time to read any more leave alone time to just breathe.
Anyway.....
Back to my Monday, i wanted to rush out of work, i cleared everything on time but then just as am about to leave the office my boss calls me.To cut a very long story short, God is faithful. I'm not big on expressions (Jumping up and down and all that) but as i left the office a little later, after a series of events,phone calls,a great email and meeting strangers, i had three job offers. It took me a whole night to actually believe that I'd been offered three jobs and i didn't have to shorten my skirt, unbutton my blouse or pay a bribe.

So today my sister woke up at 6am reminding me I'm not jobless anymore and that i should get on up and start my day!

What can i say, Its God being faithful and putting me at the right place and the right time and divinely connecting me to people that will direct me to my destiny. and an answer to a little prayer.
God is great, that's all i can say! :)
p.s Cheryl, i don't think I'll be coming to China anymore, let me give this place a try.


pICTURE BY fRANK mORRISON.