This is a love song...

I like meditation

And pools and beaches

And making things from scratch

I love friendship

And her best friend, loyalty

And her favourite sister, Love

I'm in love with words

Whether poetry or a good story

And massages - it's always a happy ending.

I can't live without music

Or dancing like no one's watching 

Or traveling like my life depends on miles covered

This is a love song.

On equality...

Bills, bills, bills...

The clock on the mantelshelf says it's 7.17am. A cursory glance at the calendar reveals what I already suspected: it's March 7, 2016.

It's a Monday. 

There are shitloads of things to do. I should've worked on these things at the weekend. I should've sorted them out in my head. I needed to sort them out in my head...you know, lay out the plans...But no. This was one of those weekends. Whereby I shut off social media, reduce human contact to church alone, empty my head of all things resembling sense and reason and just aim to BE. 

So now I sit here, watching the bloody pendulum on that clock go left right left right...inching closer to Catatonia. 

Left, right, left, right...

Then the bills I have to pay proceeded to rouse me in the noisiest way they could muster. 

Bills. 

Bills. 

Is that what we're here for? 

To pay bills and die? 

When we speak of the inevitability of getting older, is this what we mean? You know, how it's inevitable to think of bills first...before job satisfaction? Before happiness??

I know. Why right? Well, I hear bits of it these days. Things that sound like it, look like it etc.

"I have bills to pay, A. My wife is almost due to pop." 

"Chick, I have I two children. I'm not going to leave a job because I'm unhappy. My kids will be unhappy if I can't feed them."

"I've got to bring home the bacon...you know how my wife can be when there's no money...I can't leave. I'd rather be unhappy than stupid."

Is that the end game?

Bills?

Bits of meat????

xx

Work...

Doodling...

#1

                  View from my bed

I'm lying in my bed this beautiful, beautiful Sunday morning.

I'm mentally preparing for worship aka church while marveling at God's sense of humour. 

God has a weirdly beautiful sense of humour and it's no secret I have a thing for a good sense of humour...and a smattering of mischief 😊😊😊

I love that we can talk. 

I love that he listens when I speak. 

I love that I try my darndest to listen when he speaks.

I love that he honours our many deals. 

lol

We actually make deals.

Seriously.

Last night, we made one of such deals.

I was going bonkers looking for a nanoSIM that I was sure I'd kept on my bed. Believe me when I say I spent about two hours looking for this SIM. I even checked the 'fridge! 

Just when I was going to check outside the house, (even though I'd been holed up in my cave all day 😏) He whispered in my ear.

Lol

I was supposed to exhume a body I'd mentally buried last week. 

Okay, Lord. 

I will do it ASAP.

Just gimme my SIM. 

After the exchange, I went around the house one more time, came back to sit on the edge of my bed, resigned to my fate (etisalat's horrible customer service) I was about to turn on the TV and then on a whim, I turned around, there was my nanoSIM. Best believe I'd turned that mattress on its top a few times that evening. I howled and howled lol

God has a sense of humour. 

I've kept my own end of the deal. 

All is well with the world again.

SMHLU.

xx

spiritual connections.

Have you ever met someone and came to the realization that the "relationship must remain a "spiritual union" or a "mystical marriage" or an "astral connection"...an "amitié amoureuse"

Something that mustn't be corrupted by...by...anything at all?

I read WB Yeats and Maud Gonne's 'love story' this a.m. and it reminded me of a relationship I know quite intimately. Even though the story was about why Gonne refused Yeats 5 or more proposals and how she declared "...poets must never marry." (and I agree...except they marry their kind...aaaaand that's a story for another post) I took something else out of the experience.

There are some things you just leave alone because you realize it's just too beautiful and you don't want to taint it...

Oh well...happy hump day!

Enjoy the rest of your week.

xx

On men and relationships...

                          *cackles*

So on Facebook this morning, Friend posted: 

"You know what men do when they are thinking about having a relationship with you? When they’re open to the option?  NOTHING. They do NOTHING. They keep their mouths shut, they scope out the situation, and they let the chips fall where they may. They watch as things are progressing, and if something blooms within their hearts, they come to you with an offer. THAT’S what men do(...)

At some point, very long ago, before all of us were alive, men and women entered into a tacit agreement, whereby men were only responsible for their words. We were to take a man “at his word,” and punish him only when his actions belied those words; when he acted in opposition of them; when he failed to make them true(...)

And these behaviors are what lead us to believe that change is possible; that they are warming to the idea of being with us. They’re not, though. They’re enjoying the moment. They’re enjoying the benefits of the boyfriend experience while remaining indemnified against poor-boyfriend liability.

Me in the comment section: 

"Sometimes, they come to you with an offer and then suddenly realize they were only 998% certain about the offer...(or the moment even...) at that point, they don't mind being called a liar and/or a thief. The moment is gone. And them with it."

I remember the first time we met like it was yesterday...

I remember that smile that never left your face...

I remember how you'd belly your many client induced frustrations in that your trademark half smile...

I remember the day I heard you'd passed...

I remember the tightening in my chest...the one that I feel every time your name pops up in a conversation...or when I come across your number on my phone (I still have that...I know. But you already know how weird I can be)

I remember you, Tosan. 

I remember you. 

I think of you. 

I think of you. 

I know you're well. 

I hope I can some day, think about you without pain...without wondering how such a beautiful soul can be plucked off without notice. 

Facebook just reminded me to wish you a happy birthday and I wanted to hit something so bad. It would've been your 32nd...Sigh. 

Rest in peace, my friend. 

Till we meet.

xx

I should just rant about how I was alive and well all day long and how I'm suddenly feverish and how my temperature is rising by the second and how I feel like diarhea crap and how I think I should just shut down and sleep it off...or how I'd rather watch a movie than do the wise thing which is take some paracetamol and pray the fever doesn't persist...

Sigh

Dear Muse...

You see, we thought we knew the answer to this question (I know "Assumption is the mother of all f&%kups." and shit like that.) and we've mulled over those 2 days...Perhaps, I was overly excited to have you around and I let some things slide by me? (Perhaps? Perhaps? Perhaps??)

You see, darling muse, from a niggle of doubt we've reached full paranoia. We've debated with better judgement for the better part of 4 hours. All possibilities imaginable. Name it. We went through it.

We won. 

(Because "Only the paranoid survive." according to a former friend.) 

Now I have a few questions but the main one (...one that I should've asked eons ago but decided not to because well, I didn't want to sound desperate...) is: Why did you come to see after such a long time? Why tease me like that? 

I'm confused.

Tuesday. 

Was great. 

After all, you were here. 

I thought we finally crossed a major hurdle in our "situationship".

Then Wednesday came. 

And you went cold.

Gave me a perfunctory forehead kiss and ran off in the opposite direction of our plans. 

 

What happened? 

Did I say something/Do something/Not do something that had you clamming up and running off like you had 12 Devils on your heels? 

I know I'm a dick sometimes but it's usually calculated. To be a dick unknowingly...new frontiers I'm not in a hurry to conquer.

You see, I like you. 

I really like you. 

I like the things you make me do...that's why it was really easy to invite you into my head. So, if the experience was that unbearable, so much so that I can barely get more than a few words from you these days, then i'd love to know and I'd love a chance to apologize. (Seriously, less than a thousand words the last time. Jerk...Sorry I didn't mean that. Really.)

I'd hate to live with the knowledge that I made you uncomfortable in any way.

If I'm being paranoid, just pretend this epistle never happened. We'll blame it on my over-active imagination and my extremely sensitive side. Then I'll just go right ahead and mind my business...I'm just sick of you teasing me and I really have to ask:

Are we? 

Or are we not?

What the hell are you doing to me???

Sincerely, 

X.

I couldn't decide if j wanted Jam or Peanut burra or Nutella. 

This is how you know you have trust issues.

Wistful sigh. 

Hashtag: Ponderisms.

There's this sense of calm I get from walking these blogville streets...reading all those blogs I've come to love...walking the streets of these minds I may never put a body or face to...its pure bliss, I tell you. 

Takes me on a journey...back to a place when I was a mishmash of emotions. When we'd make/read absolutely sublime post or just some bullkakery that refused to be silenced. 

The people I read on here...nothing stoked my fire more than remembering those days of rage and zwodder. Some of those people have since melted into the wood works, never to be heard from again in the anon capacity. Some have passed (God rest their souls and help us heal...) Some have stopped writing altogether, sadly...while a curious few have continued writing...for a different audience who maybe have the same ambition: The need to just BE. Or perhaps, priorities have evolved? I don't know...all I know is I love this place to bits.

This place that became my escape for a period of my life when I needed several seats on the the escape train...when Lenny Kravitz's "Get away" was the soundtrack of my existence...this place that allowed me post my "psycho-brabble" without judgement. This place that loved me. 

I really should go back to sounding off here 😊😊

xx

Randomery...

Life without medication.

Not drugs

Not the Internet

Not retail therapy

Not Music therapy

Just life, you 

and silence