where beauty lies...

love from unlikely places

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Tue, 22 Dec 2009 12:36:00 +0000

Last year I was doing a show on radio called ‘the bridal breakfast’ , it was a full time job show on its own and it got me to appreciate weddings and the intricacies involved plus I met sooooo many wedding planners, decorators, designers, cake makers etc. it was interesting to hear what these people had to say about the wedding and honeymoon make up anyway… I was touched that most of them would text me back occasionally telling me how well I steered the show and how at home they felt and that was sweet. There was this one particular designer, who, on a day I was particularly sleepy coz the show was from 6am -9am actually texted me for days after telling me how nice a person I was and etc and I was so shocked seeing I had been really sleepy that day and prolly was not as nice as I always was, absentminded trying to keep my facebook open to keep me lively and she thought… I was nice, easy to be around, made her feel confident etc… God!
So anyway from then on, she would see me on air and text me, ask me if I am okay, once when I had a major fight before reading the news and I was sore it showed. I was touched she praised me…I was utterly surprised…taken aback. So anyhow come 22nd December 2008, Christmas blues setting in , like it does every year since 2004, I get a call from a number I don’t know and it’s her, and she asks me where she can drop my Christmas card. I am again disarmed totally, I pause awhile and I am wondering why this person seems to like me this much…so I laugh, more surprised than anything and tell her to drop it at UBC, I would pick it from there.
Well I talked to her again this year sometime and got a few texts from her. I figured well, its all over now…and its 22nd December again, I am fighting the Christmas blues, typing away at my laptop, trying to complete an article I must before Keturah or anyone in the Magazine’s department calls me for it…I have really not felt like writing that’s why…but I can’t say that of course.
Anyway I get a call and this time I have saved the number, I am not sure it is someone I know, it is vague then her girlish laugh rings in her ‘hello’ and I start to recall, and respond, ask her how she has been and that little chitchat and then she asks me ‘where can I drop your Christmas card for you?’ I had not expected it and I laugh totally amazed but this time, slightly warmed up inside, so I tell her UBC again and ask her a little about other things. When we say bye, I am smiling to myself more in total surprise and awe at how a 30 minute or so interview could culminate into this; Christmas card every year from someone I figured would forget that cold morning when I tried to be hyped up yet kept watching the clock for the show to end. And continuously be benevolent toward me without ever getting anything or demanding anything in return.

mambo jambo

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 20 Dec 2009 14:58:00 +0000

its a weird feeling this one...
wish i could explain it but i cant....

so...next

does anybody have any Christmas cheer to pass around seems like i am short

been on my mind

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 11:20:00 +0000

you know those days when something is on your mind in forever and you look it up, master it, say it, meditate on it, laugh about it and go over it and the process over and over and over... and you cant get enough of it...well it hit me today, so i am posting it in hope it leaves my mind

The Lion King 1½ (2004) (V)

Shenzi: [Timon is singing] Oh, look, it's dinner and a show!
Banzai: And I thought beans were the only musical food!

Timon: Waaait, wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second.
Pumbaa: Uh, Timon? What are you doin'?
Timon: Shenzi Marie Predatora Veldetta Jacquelina Hyena... . would you do me the honor of becoming... . my bride?
Shenzi: I don't think so!
Timon: Shenzi Marie, please. I know what you're thinking: "We're too different." "It'll never work." "What will the children look like?"
Shenzi: Ooh, that violates so many laws of nature.
Timon: Listen to me! The problems of a couple of wacky kids like us don't amount to hill of termites in this nutty circle-of-life thing. And so I ask you: If not now, when? If not me, who? I'm lonely.
Pumbaa: Can I be your best man?
Banzai: I say we skip the wedding, and go straight to the buffet!

Shenzi: For your last meal, you're gonna eat those words.

Banzai: Look at them scramble.
Shenzi: That's just how I like them: scrambled, and a little runny.

awww, its still on my mind!

sleepy and nothing

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 03:56:00 +0000

i write this with my head lolling partially, my neck hinges bent over from fatigue... holding up a head that wont keep straight... very grueling. anyho, it is morning, another week of morning news and i made the mistake of having a 5.30am breakfast, now i am paying for it with a heartburn... i don't understand how i could be so foolish... but anyhow, the deed was done. there is absolutely no sane or poetic lead to this post. i am just writing because i got a free computer for hours on end to ward the sleep off, the TV wont work and i am afraid to proceed with the book i started reading on Saturday lest i sleep... great fantasy book just that its written by a woman... you know us... a full page of description...but
\ fact that she is actually writing about pirates and her protagonist is a man is interesting must be challenging, i am waiting for the 'war' parts coz there has to be war but of course...she does not elude letting us know how hoooooot he is, i imagine if it was a guy writing, we would have felt his 'hotness' nonetheless. he prolly would have talked about his unforgettable sinew muscular body within the rudely torn pirate waist-coat somewhere in relation to him bending oars with herculean strength... i think thats a woman's description...anyhow we would have gotten the point in not too many words....okay i am straying into a lot of irrelevancies and i think i need to turn in...find a comfy nook in this office, curl up and sleep for a while... i am ...so ...sleepy.

leave my crusts!

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:35:00 +0000

there are those days i am in a spoil-my-self-mood. it usually hits me when i have morning news or public holidays and town is quiet with fewer people around, so i stroll down to parliament avenue, to shake the sleep off with a humongous craving for coffee and toast or cake or a croissant...anything doughy really.
cafe pap is usually a good spot, or Nandos, especially when i am in a 'watching' mood, book the window seat and stare out at people coming to work. the distant sound of coffee mags being steamed and the smell of fresh coffee beans and baked rolls making my tummy churn, giving me that release i crave for when i am locked behind a desk with the cameras brimming in my face and the nation waiting for me to tell them what's happening... sometimes i wish i can just scream out 'freak out!' on air and shock my managers but really... i aint no Jim Carey.

so i love my bread at cafe pap, brown toasted with jam and butter, my coffee, usually decaf with honey, John always knows what to bring when he sees me. often times after i am done ordering and now waiting, i keep praying this time round my bread will look different. you see, i grew up on Hotloaf-fresh-from-the-oven-not-yet-sliced-bread and the crusts... the crusts, crunchy and crumbly...were heavenly, it made bread feel complete. i could feed on the crusts only and be in a 'bread heaven,' but Cafe Pap denies me my pleasure trip all the time by bringing me my bread, well toasted...yes... but with the crusts cut off. i have never summoned the courage to tell them to leave the crusts on. i keep musing over the response,' madam, it cant fit in the toaster' 'but madam that is how we do it. 'madam, it looks better' 'madam who cares for crust!'
whaaaaat! i care for crusts...
so i am planning my next trip with a new resolve, i shall boldly ask for my bread...with the crusts on!

story of my life...5 years ago....its real..names changed but it was a typical day back then....

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 06 Dec 2009 10:02:00 +0000

It is beginning to drizzle and I don’t know what to write…or if I should write. Oh yeah…let me see…hmmm. Okay. Here goes…urrrghhh… I really don’t know what to say. Suddenly my room door flies open and my little sister, Olivia dashes in. I groan. Not that I do not want to see her, but not now when I am thinking and she is excited.
“Guesss what!”
“What?” I feign excitement.
“My gosh, guess who is coming? My gosh! My gosh!” Her fingers are all over the place, on her face, on her hair… and I’m thinking why I don’t get used to this drama everyday.
“Who?” I ask trying to look concerned lest she get hurt that I’m not interested in what interests her because when I do act that way, I sit down to lectures from her about being compassionate, showing love, and her revealing her undying love for me , which must, and I say it again, which must be punctuated at the end with a hug and about ten kisses. Ugh! I wonder where she gets these doses of emotion from. So to avoid the sentimental ceremony, I act interested.
“Uh-huh…my gosh, my gosh! I was jogging with Crista and you remember that boy next door…Ken…oh gosh…we actually got talking…okay…anyway.” She sighs, sits down.
“You won’t believe it…anyways. Remember we went jogging at 5:00 p.m. My trainers were wet…”
Oh no! my sister has got this habit of relating an event detail for detail. It drives everyone nuts, especially my big sister, so she pours it all on me because our older sister just won’t listen. Crista is actually our cousin, a real girl talking herself into believing she is a tomboy, goodness, teenagers!
“You were not listening!” Olivia looks really hurt.
“I was!” I retort “The boy from next door…chewing pancakes…Crista”
“ No!” she is definitely hurt “ the problem with you is that you never listen to me when I speak, yet me, I listen to you.”
I feel guilty, because she is like my secret box, I tell her everything. Oh! Jeez, I feel the lecture coming and I have to stop the flow before it becomes a house issue before a panel of my brothers and sisters to judge the case of Lucy who is forever thinking and writing and does not listen to her “secret box.”
“Sorry, I kinda missed it. What were you saying, I’m really sorry. Please, start over again. This time I promise I’ll be attentive, okay.” I’m crying inside and praying, oh Lord, gimme patience. This is really trying.
She lights up immediately.
“Any way, so, yeah…where did I stop…lemme start again.” I shed a silent tear for myself.
Christa walks in to announce the boy from next door was coming any time as pre arranged and that my phone number, against my will, or my permission had been given to him in case he wanted to talk to either of the girls. Okay…I’m okay with that really, it’s always happening and when I am away from home, it is worse; lots of phone calls from little boys and girls and I keep thinking, why can’t my friends call that often.
Crista seems excited and when she is, she’s got a way of keeping her hands right by her side and moving only her eyes and of course, lips and oh, her voice is deep and loud and punctuated with throaty giggles. As Crista talks, Olivia keeps throwing in her “anyways”, “oh my goshes”, and “for reals” and a whole bunch more that are only in her dictionary.
Then my brother Ivan walks it. When these three are together, you’ve met the link, as they call themselves. He looks very cool, calm and composed as usual. He’s holding a bundle of c.d’s- my c.d’s. he throws them roughly at me onto the bed.
“Easy!” I retort angrily.
“Sorry…I finished listening to them, do you have others.”
Kids, I mumble under my breath, all they want is what they can get from you. I’m sure my parents feel the same way about us. Now I know what it feels like, and I can brace myself for when my kids come.
Before I can reach out for the c.d’s, Olivia and Crista excitedly bubbling about Ken, comfortably plop onto my bed, push away all the papers roughly to one side, throw the pens wherever and I am staring in horror.
“Hey watch, it” I yell, “That’s important stuff.”
“But Lucy, you are always writing, writing…now what’s this?” Comments Ivan as he picks up a paper with one of my stories and starts to read, mimicking my voice, “I walked into the café…” I grab it from him.
“Hey, easy, easy,”
Thankfully my older sister walks in, holding a mingling stick.
“You guys, what do you want for supper, posho and peas or spaghetti?”
“Spaghetti,” everyone shouts.
“Okay,” she walks out.
The conversation resumes; it is Ken this, Ken that, Ken, Ken, Ken! I am trying to disconnect myself from the Ken talk but I find myself writing “Ken”.
“Listen, you girls” says my brother in his usual sarcastic way, “that boy, ah ah, he’s so fake.”

“He’s cool, Lucy isn’t he cool?” the girls protest.
“I guess so” I reply, I actually think he’s a bit proud, but I do not want to dampen their mood and sit for a lecture on not loving people’s passions.
Ivan interjects, “ He’s so tall! He’s thin like a stick! I think he even has grip.”
Grip is apparently slang for pimples, adapted from the feel of a good basketball. If it has got grip, it is a good ball because of the ridges and bumps on it.
My other little brother Benny walks in and has most probably heard the last comment because he is laughing absusrdly. It is the loudest, most annoying, most intimidating and yet funniest laugh you’d ever hear.
“Who has grip? Who has grip?”
The girls know they are in for it when Benny gets involved and when Ivan tells him that Ken who has grip is coming over for tea, he laughs louder and starts to tease, as expected.
“Olivia and Crista love Ken…they are up in a tree k.i.s.s.i.n.g. First comes love, then comes marriage…” I can tell this is the time when tempers start to flare, tears flow and there is laughing and teasing like mad. My room has become an oven of havoc. I do not think I am going to write anything unless I throw these kids out of my room.
“Okay, go quarrel from out there, all of you- go!”
Benny goes out singing “Olivia loves a boy with grip, you’ll marry him and your babies will have grip.” We all burst into laughter at this.
Olivia is mad, “Oh Shut up…” she begins.
I feel kind of bad for her, teasing is not her thing and Crista who is supposed to be her best friend is actually laughing with the rest of us.
“You guys are going to welcome Ken in your jogging clothes!” says Ivan, shaking his head.
“The grip boy?” shouts Benny.
“Ah...go away, go and play with your video games,” says Olivia, hurt and angry.
“Grip boy, grip boy” he runs out singing with Olivia hot on his heels” Stay away, it’s a girl thing anyway.”
“Grip boy, grip boy. Olivia loves a grip boy” Benny continues.
“Oh puhleeze, the line is getting stale,” I hear Olivia say.
Our youngest brother comes in “who has grip?’’ he inquires.
“No one!” Olivia is flustered, “I need to shower, Crista, Let’s go.”
Littlest brother follows, “tell me please, who has grip, I promise I won’t tell.”
And I chuckle… as though it had anything to do with telling or not telling. My room is vacated and quiet now. I sigh. Back to work…
Well… at least for quite some time before the gals comes in asking me for make up and nice tops or a certain pair of shorts or tee- shirt… little girls, I muse… well.. I guess that is what I should write about; little girls and the excitement caused by the opposite sex. I can hear them giggling and talking away about ken and a loud singing of ‘grip boy! Olivia loves grip boy’ punctuating the excitement… then… ‘Shut up! Get lost!..Speak to the hand! Puhleeze!’ spicing the air.

Not forgetting my big sister and Ivan laughing and my littlestest brother asking exasperatedly “who has grip? You people tell me! Ah! I’m going to tell daddy if you don’t”
Okay, I really have a crazy family… and if I don’t get out of here now I won’t write a thing… but I am curiously anticipating the ordeal between Ken, the girls and the rest…hmmm it could be a good story so for now story writing is suspendeds… the drizzle has died out and I think I need to step into this fun, maybe tell my littlest brother about the “grip boy” before he runs for parental enforcement . He does that a lot when we keep secrets from him… maybe laugh along…maybe tease, just maybe.

when they go too soon

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 13:11:00 +0000

din't think i could let the month go by just like that, with hardly any more than 4 posts, now could i? It's been a hectic month and my mind and fingers along with the pens...key boards have had a hard time coordinating to produce anything magical or worth reading , so my brain has stored all that i hoped to write and i hope that when this season of business in someway becomes manageable (coz i see myself busier) then i guess i shall put something down worth guzzling.)
not forgetting

my Literature teacher passed on..
. i recieved the message with shock and memories of her flashed before my eyes in little snapshots,
snap!
playing scrabble at her home after running out of school to avoid being dragged onto the field for 100metre runs on the shool's sports day with her daughter, who taught me to be a rebel.

snap!

listening to her correct our phonetics and pronunciations first day in the literature class, telling Julian, a gal in my class,that that possibly cant be her name, its a boy's name, she must be 'Juliana' and you would think she was the midwife at birth. oh and telling me my surname is no where on the Native language radar of Uganda. 'Chihandae? where is that from?'
and Jaque that that is incomplete for Jacques a male name..so she better write her name as Jackie or Jacquelin

snap!

asking me to clean her chair and pulling out the largest biggest tissue roll i had ever seen and telling me to keep the rest.

Snap

asking me why i had failed literature paper two (plays and her paper) and giving me the greatest ever motherly advise that took me through that lit class. i remembered feeling elated, feeling i could do this for Her, to make her keep feeling proud of me
and i vowed never to fail that paper again... i didn't. my life was changed by a teacher who believed in me and let me know even when i had failed that i was a champion.

snap!

listening to her talk about her younger days

snap!
i just got nostalgic, thinking about secondary school, my literature class
oh and yeah being the teacher's pet then... of all my literature teachers.
being class prefect of the lit class, being privileged to go to their homes or be sent to their homes and being able to get presents from them, chocolates and etcs

i guess i owe my literature teachers alooooooot for my writing now, they pushed me to realise my potential. cant forget Mr Mugasa encouraging me, one day to the deadline for the writing competition with NABUTO to write... i wrote all night, running on coffee, a dim corridor light to compile my poetry collection.... and finally coming second in secondary level, scooping an award,and a prize....!

may you rest in Peace Mrs Tiromwe

the leak

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 12:54:00 +0000

(A single from my anthology 'the elegy of love)

The leak in the ceiling had been getting bigger and bigger and when she left, we were both not sure if we had been too blind to see the empty cold clammy fingers of the raindrops that filtered into our lives- our beautiful home.
I am sure I can remember now what I had seen when I had dismissed it two months back as an insignificant dot. It never occurred to me that something so small could be a colossal invasion into a delicate structure put together with so much warmth and care- a year since we moved in. Suddenly the little dot, like a little weed was a leak crumbling the very core of what was¬¬¬¬¬¬¬__ home.
I wish I did not miss her, the way she read the morning paper, the way she laughed when he tickled her, the deft way she poured coffee from the coffee maker for them both and the way her hair gently blew into her narrow face when we walked together. I wished I did not miss them together.
The picture is all different now. Sam lives every day in a bubble, floating in and out of some dream and the puddle forming in our lives on the floor of our boarding has turned into a cold breeding nest for whatever vermin that aims to feed off the rotting tissue.
Once or twice he’s picked up a few boards, a saw and even a hammer and after a few haphazard attempts, we were back to where we were a few days later…awaken in the middle of a storm with the icy cold blob of a leak embracing a bare back or foot. When she saw it she tried to get it fixed, they talked about what was wrong, she did all she could, but I guess it was too late, the leak had eaten into the plaster so fast we had not noticed it was peeling away and yet, he was always tired, too tired to fix the ceiling.
Back then, it was nice to saunter in and sit by the fire, eat meatloaf with baked potatoes and have the usual trend of conversation passed back and forth punctuated with Becky’s loud shrill hearty laughter about the usual things- the zany neighbours and their outlandish kids that seemed to belong to the Addams Family, crazy traffic, work but most of all, the wedding plans. I loved that bit, I knew now we would be a family- a huge step into transforming the warmth engulfed in the house into something more intimate. After the hearty meal, as seemed the tradition cans of Heineken kept us absorbed in our Tuesday night show ‘I love Lucy.’
But since the leak grew, we talked and laughed a lot less and a lot tensed. There hung a cold apprehensive presence in the atmosphere…and when it was all silent, I could hear the faint drip drip drip sound, soft, slow almost impalpable but definitely there. It carried an uncomfortable dump draught with it and very soon a stale odor.
I heard them quarrel for the very first time a month before she left. She complained he was always tired, they never touched. Love that made them and brought them together was a strain tearing them apart and she was not sure he wanted to go on with it. He told her not to be crazy. There was nothing wrong. He wanted to get her pretty things, make money for them both to be happy and comfortable and she told him, for her to be happy, he needed to see the leak and fix it, the house was beginning to rot. They fought more and often; love was dying. She ate dinners alone, the leaks grew as frequent as her own tears widening the chasm within their lives, dampening all our spirits. Till we woke up one day and she was gone. And there was a bigger puddle at our feet. Overnight the leak had eaten into the wall and seeped progressively onto the ground.

Now as we sit back on the couch, two desolate bachelors staring at the bucket fill up with grimy water for the nth time that evening, the rugs stuffed against the weeping wall, Sam will lean back, flap my ears, kiss my shaggy head and sigh.
‘Why didn’t I do it earlier? Why didn’t I see it coming?’
I stare at him knowingly. ‘I didn’t not realize we were growing apart so fast.’ He will run his hand over my tawny tangled hairy back every night now. ‘I thought I was doing it for us; working hard for a life for us.’
I will bury my head between my paws and whimper, my thoughts always the same. We just refused to see the leak.

i dont huv a title... yet

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 04:55:00 +0000

Revenge is a dish best served cold

Meaning: This saying suggests that if someone does something bad to us, it is better to pay them back later in time, not immediately. Vengeance may be more satisfying if it is not inflicted immediately.

I was watching Kill Bill the other day, actually all weekend, then before that on Friday, i watched Inglorious Basterds... i am so oozing Quentin Tarantino, his gorey yet hilarious way of 'skinning a rat,' makes him a Maestro at his film plots. now next to Mel Gibson, i think this guy is phenomenal . if you haven't watched Inglorious Basterds, i urge you to, i think Quentin outdoes himself in this movie. a must watch... only it has got my thinking twisted. next time i need to carry out some sick revenge
i will brood over it for years, then tell the victim, over a cup of tea or wine what i intend to do. how interesting, i used to think he was one of a kind, now i truly believe Quentin is the future for cinema...

rejection....soulful....

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 01 Nov 2009 12:40:00 +0000

i am working on my second book. yup second coz i already have my first book published by fountain publishers, 'Brave Kemi,' can you imagine... it was the first coolest shortening of a name that came to me.... hope you don't mind Mrs B2B...
ANYHO , so i am working on my second book, a collection of short stories which i have changed twice coz the computer died and ate the stories so i hat to retrieve some and changed them... still searching for a title coz the first title was ...exact...now... i am still searching for something deeper....i am looking at the heart of the stories. my first rejection came then.
i wanna publish form out there, somewhere. so i sign up to this agent looking for writers to promote and l look at his work contact him...blablabla. anyway so i send him samples of my book
and i get the response after two days. i did not feel so overly turned away when i read his 'sorry, i dont promote this sort of genre but you can try someone else. thank you for keeping in touch.'
ouch!
i recalled so many writers that were bestseller authors after 40 rejections and a twinge of excitement shot through me, i was now one of them... a to-be- bestselling author!
anyway despite that hopeful thought i have been really slow about posting my work to another publishing house that is hounding me down to send in my work ASAP. and i think the first rejection really got to me.

anyho, I've been sleeping at 4am trying to patch up the stories. my only companions, tea and my top three songs,(they are all number ones in my book,) play repeat until i am done

1.Sean Kingston - Face drop
1.Shayne Ward- No, you hung up
1.Simply Red and Michael Bubble's version of - A song for you

oh ho, you need to listen to that song, soulful, melancholic, deep, meaningful(to me at least) this one version is by Donny Hathaway, it was danced to in the 1st season of 'so you think you can dance,' that's when i first fell for it after hearing its remix by Bizzybone

ladies and gentle men, i present y
to you..

a song for you
enjoy

Donny Hathaway - A Song for You

I've been so many places in my life and time
I've sung a lot of songs I've made some bad rhyme
I've acted out my love in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

I know your image of me is what I hope to be
I've treated you unkindly but darlin' can't you see
There's no one more important to me
Darlin' can't you please see through me
Cause we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

LIGHTER SHADE OF PALE

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 14:30:00 +0000

Just plagiarized that title from ‘love notes’ (which I think is a fresh approach to romantic dramas… after rolling my eyes all through ‘over her dead body'.) it’s not really a hobby- watching movies… especially lame ones to come up with some reviews…it puts food on the table.
Okay watching the movie btn music videos as well and one of my favourites just played, from the Fiction Family, ‘when she’s near,’ so had to pause the movie to watch it. Lovely video; black and white colour setting (l love sepia, black white and whatever else that isn’t colour unless it’s a worthy watch) anyway, with a nostalgic sense of the 60’s. Sounds something of a cross between the Beatles and the Zombies with the artists all in a sixties sorta dress, hairstyle…it makes me happy. I love antiques, old dusty gramophones and such.
Music…the noise without.
Lately it’s been work, work and more work. When I get home, drop dead tired, All I want is my food, the TV, music…and some alone- silence that I never let myself into
Somehow the silence is scary. I am not quite sure I want to know what’s going on within. IT SHOWS ON THE OUTside and I still don’t want to investigate… crying over soapy things even La Tormenta, not wanting company, freaked out stone cold by all the things I loved to watch…horrors and psycho thrillers… I keep the light on in my room or draw the curtains way back for some light from the church beyond my walls to spill its rays right into my room. Then I check the gate, double check the back door, check the rooms and go to bed, listening for a while to the sound without… I fall asleep before I can get to the noise within…
Yesterday, for thirty minutes, the lights went out in the neighborhood. I was dog tired but still stared at my PC , the phone, the TV flipped channels. I know I just need some noise for the sake of it…hiding. Then the lights out, I could not hide anymore. It has been hot, so hot these past days, so I dragged my chair out and slouched innit, sipping on a glass of ice cold sprite that’s been neglected in my fridge since the BBQ. It’s the only cold thing around, so…. And for the first time in three weeks, the noise within grew louder, became clearer. The cool breeze, crescent moon, the dust particles , it was perfect, except the lack of silence without… the noise within grew like a wave crushing on a shore…harder and faster with each thrust and the mud and sea weed that washed up and stayed, I knew I had to face. I could not hide from the pain, the unresolved hollow questions, anger… I tried not to cry. I hated to feel like this; so empty without my work and my noise without… I wanted out but the still small voice told me, I would be okay. But I knew the price… I am not ready to pay… I picked my phone scrolled through for someone to talk to, my sis on my mind…but its late, she’s tired…I tried through to others then sighed. I did not have airtime. Too lazy to grab any. Too glad to not to… then the lights came on again…and I sighed with relief as the TV and Laptop and radio came on… and once again, I was swallowed up by the noise without.

now there is this one too, wait for the one on women!

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 11 Oct 2009 15:31:00 +0000

For every woman who wants to know what her man is thinking.

Internationally syndicated radio superhost and columnist, controversial psycho-therapist, and author of the break-out New York Times bestsellers How Could You Do That?! and Ten Stupid Things Women Do to Mess Up Their Lives, Dr. Laura Schlessinger is back with Ten Stupid Things Men Do to Mess Up Their Lives. In ten vital, compelling chapters, Dr. Laura speaks her mind on:
Stupid Chivalry
By getting involved with the wrong woman (weak, flaky, damaged, needy, desperate, stupid, untrustworthy, immature, etc.) you think that your love will save/transform her.

Stupid Independence
Unwilling to admit "need" for bonding and intimacy, you hide in excesses of work, play, drink, drugs, porn, and meaningless sex.

Stupid Ambition
Unable to comfortably and proudly accept your inherent importance to society and family as husband and father, you bow to the false idols of money, toys, power, and status.

Stupid Strength
Uncomfortable with feeling weak, vulnerable, useless, powerless, or rejected, you use intimidation, force, or passive-aggressiveness to regain control.

Stupid Sex
Taking an attraction, opportunity, or erection as a "sign," you measure your masculinity and power by sexual conquests, infidelities, and orgasms.

Stupid Matrimony
Lacking a mature sense of the purpose, meaning, or value of marriage, you realize too late you've gone down the aisle with the wrong woman for the wrong reasons and feel helpless to "fix it."

Stupid Husbanding
Thinkingthat marriage is the honorable discharge from loving courtship, you continue to live as though you were single and your "mommy-wife" will take care of everything else.

Stupid Parenting
Believing that only women/mothers nurture children, you withdraw from hands-on parenting to assert your masculine importance, missing out on the true "soul food" of a child's hug.

Stupid Boyishness
Having not yet worked out a comfortable emotional and social understanding with your mother, you form relationships with women that become geared to avenge, resolve, or protect you from your ties to Mommy.

Stupid Machismo
Understanding the true and meaningful difference between being male and a man, you can become a man.

one for the rain

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 09:42:00 +0000

ONE OF THOSE JOKES THAT MAKES YOUR BOTCH APPOINTMENTS, LUNCHDATES, ETC BEARABLE IN A HEAVY DOWN POUR...LIKE NOW

Bongani grew up in Johannesburg. He went to law school in London after his studies he decided to go back to Johannesburg, because he could be a big powerful man and he opened his new law office.

The first day, he saw a man coming up to his office and decided to make a big impression.

As the man came to the door, Bongani pretended to be on the phone and motioned the man to take a seat.

Bongani spoke into the phone: "No, Absolutely no. You tell those clowns in New York that am not travelling all the way that side to settle the case for less than a million bucks.

"Yes. The Appeals Court has agreed to hear the case next week.
"I'll be handling the primary argument and the other members of my team will provide support.

"Okay. Give the State Prosecutor my regards and ..."

The visitor sat patiently as Bongani rattled instructions.

Finally, Bongani put down the telephone and said: "I'm sorry for the delay, but as you can see, I'm very busy. What can I do for you?"

The man said: "I'm from Telkom... I've come to connect your phone."

self-help

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 11:49:00 +0000

know thy self- Socrates

from the moment i could say 'MAMA' I havent been too proud to say i am abit dysfunctional and need alot of help like the rest of the world. i believe in counselling not just for traumatized rape victims but for everyday life and i esteem relationships of all sorts further higher up the life ladder than work itself because at the end of ones life, like Rick Warren says (or was it Dale Carnegie) you wont ask for your medals and degrees but for your close friends and loved ones...so my quest in life has been to seek out true love, true beauty, true people.... and they are few. we are so marred, so broken by the imperfect world we live in and we conform to the way that has become...distorted and forget there is a better way, a higher way to live and be and thus we gnash in abject mediocrity which i told myself i would not succumb to.(i am not ashamed to say i am still traditional and believe in sex after marriage, friendship for courtship,and waiting for as long as it takes for a man on the same page as I)
now the highest level of communication between humans lies in the intimate connection between a man and a woman and for a man or woman to live in insecurity of the mate they have chosen goes to show the rocky foundation their relationship is on and maybe in a few years will either straighten out depending on how much they are willing to work at it or...it will end speedily. now instead of wasting alot of time looking through rose coloured glasses hopping the man or woman you think you love will change, yet dealing with insecurity, pain, unnecesssary fights, how about squaring your shoulders hitting the high road and believing for better than this!(a bitter pill to swallow, believe me , i know) our greatest hinderance is fear. Fear that no one will want you, you are getting old, you prolly have kids, your esteem is so low coz of the continual lousy relationships that have disillusioned you to a point that crumbs are worth settling for, the fear of the pain of breaking up, the fear, the fear...its all in the fear and more... i am a self -help junkie and believe you me,all the books ive read, tests, ive done, therapy and counselling sessions and counsellors i have met,has paid off, i understand myself so intricately, i understand people and issues alot better than many people i find (who live on the hindsight of their issues or are just shallow, too macho, too self righteous),within thirty minutes of a converstaion, i can tell whats wrong with their relationship and how they can fix it. just last night i was reading this book i accidentally got from my sis

in the forward of this book, this Doc Laura Schlessingeris a licensed marriage and family therapist, the author of ten New York Times bestsellers, and a regular columnist for NewsMax, a number one female talk-show host and the third-most-listened-to talk-show host in America... talks about how today's 'insta-culture' has separated the beautiful intimate promise of sex to just something you do when you feel the 'rush' plus it not being only okay but necesarry to be sexually experimental including a number of techniques, partners and genders and that 'what women dont allow, men wont and cant do' and the wise advice from a listener to her radio show 'be sure before you say I do , know the man in ALL four seasons (in entirety).
she talks of traditional courtship and what it used to be. i like the way she says it " courtship is gone, "instant"-intimacy is in. 'hooking up' is the catch word of the day. that means having sex beofre you even know the person's middle name. hooking up and shacking up are not about being in love with ideals, goals,and promises historically inherent in such proximity. HOOKING UP AND SHACKING UP are about having but without true giving and when it stops giving, dont worry, just go some place else hook-up and shack up all over again and again and again. hook ups and shack ups have no depth, no promise, no attachment, no contentment, no meaning' they do not demonstrate assumed value of participants. the saddest calls comes from women and men who after years of shacking up(and maybe a baby or two) want to marry only to find that the other person enjoys this perpetual state of uncertainity. the most annoying calls come from men and women who after years of shacking up decide that this really isnt 'the one' and its time to move on"

she clearly defines courtship as a platform that provided an opportunity for men and women to develop a friendship, an understanding, a true knowledge of another. a time of flirtatiousness and chivalry it was also a time to discuss religion,work family,children,homes,philosophy and to see how respective familes could function together. courtship was about taking time to learn about another in depth to decide whether or not to become intimate."

now, this sure does take alot out of the pain when you decide to walk away, dont you think?
Better than having to deal with the pain of betrayal, feeling 'used' , consequences like abortion, unwanted kids,cheating, abuse in all its forms and etc after messing up

now these are the chapter lineups in the book.

1. Stupid Secrets
Withholding important information for fear of rejection

2. Stupid Egotism
Asking not what you can do for the relationship but only what the relationship can do for you

3. Stupid Pettiness
Making a big deal out of the small stuff

4. Stupid Power
Always trying to be in control

5. Stupid Priorities
Consuming all your time and energies with work, hobbies, errands, and chores instead of focusing on your relationship

6. Stupid Happiness
Seeking stimulation and assurance from all the wrong places to satisfy the immature need to feel good

7. Stupid Excuses
Not being accountable for bad behavior. learn to apologise!

8. Stupid Liaisons
Not letting go of negative attachments to friends and relatives who are damaging to your relationship

9. Stupid Mismatch
Seeing the red flags clearly and yet you stay around trying to put a square peg in a round hole. Not knowing when to leave and cut your losses

10. Stupid Breakups
Disconnection for all the wrong reasons

you know what relationships are hard work and alot of commitment,
let me give it to you hard and straight, so unless you are a whole individual (meaning complete in your ownself,knowing who you are not as defined by someone else or circumstance, independent, pursuing your own goals, free of past aches, pains and entanglements, sober, mature and not deperate to be loved, looked after and cared for) give relationships a big break.
dating and marriage should be less about infatuation, lust and its relatives but about the compatability you share... religion, morals,purpose mostly purpose.(when the goosebumps of passion wear out and your relationship was based on that..what next?) you should get married as single whole individuals, that is a healthy relationship ,not because you are looking for the other person to fill the emptiness or sort your dysfunctional life like some God, coz we can all do so much and we all have lives to live with or without a partner...so be Absolutely sure about your mate and if the red flags go up about someone, please dont hesitate. the good and bad news about breaking up is; good news, you are free to make a 'best' choice' a better match. bad news; the pain lasts for a while.

by the way it is possible...dont let this insta-culture decieve you it aint possible!
have a great week!

S.O.S

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 16:30:00 +0000

hey i am broke. anyone wants to sort a sister out for the weekend atleast.
well, here is my shopping list
1. toilet paper (strictly white)
2. bathing soap (strictly family size dettol gentle or ...the other antiseptic soap)
3. oranges, lemons, water melon and paw paw for juice
4. organic sugar (you need to get in touch with my pastor, hes the only one i know who knows where to get it)
5. pads!!! ( 'feathers' please!'always' is nauseating)
6. toothpaste (the whitening one with granules...closeup i think)
7. plus a tooth brush.. i like new tooth brushes...purple in colour please and twisted all over as if some kids toy...you know those toothbrushes...)
8.deodorant (vanilla fields please)
9. spray (appletinni or some victorai secret spray that is Apple or green tea... or both)
10. please throw in some chocolate
11. i need pork, its only 7500 a kilo
12. rice(organic please)
13. decaffeinated coffee and some skimmed milk
14. irish potatoes. (looove those)
15. crackers
16. tomatoes, carrots (lots of em) green pepper, chillies, avocado, cauliflower and cucumber.(all at the market)
15. and of course some pocket money.
thank you...

i will be waiting on you to call and volunteer.
thanks!

you are allllll far too kind.

week-ends!

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 12:27:00 +0000

the rule for all my weekends especially Saturday, was stay in all day, clean up and just be lazy all day flipping channels, eating and sleeping. but of late, its been filled with scrabble games, meetings, tea somewhere, dinner, and the latest,an exciting BBQ (last weekend at my place..)it was great hanging with my boys and a few of my gals and getting them to mingle and know each other; and like i hadn't had enough nyama kyoma, i over did myself again on Sunday with my relatives! and this weekend started on a Thursday:
the birde and groom expo dinner was lovely. i am not a sucker for weddings and their nitty gritties but i loved the display and the models!
when i get the pics i will let you in on a model i totally loved. she was the definition of graceful on the catwalk while a number of them fought to sway and look fierce... which just didnt cut it! but her..., her!Lorrrrrd! she floated with ease and elegance and made me want to rewind time back to the day when i effortlessly graced the catwalk in school. she was a goddess, i totally landed for her performance. then there was one i anticipated a fall...and she did stumble. i could imagine how terrible she felt as she went behind stage prolly saying 'oh my God, oh My God! I ALMOST FELL!" She didnt surface again till the last show case from Sylvia Awori.Stella Atal, Brenda Maraka had unique interesting wedding gowns to display, i thought they were gurrreeeeeaaat!
anyway then a sickle-cell fund-raising dinner on Friday that knocked 'Boston Legal' off my 'to do ' lists was lovely too, i had never seen Navio perform till then. and just when i thought i would sleep in Sato, i still had stuff to do, and appointments to keep. the highlight being meeting up a good old friend who came in to the country from the states three weeks ago. it was great catching up over dinner at Centinary Park before he dropped me off home. and today i just want to go home and chill, long week ahead , so much to do and so much to pray over, wisdom to glean and 'to-do-priority' lists to make!
enjoy your week people.
'your life is only as beautiful and fulfilling as you want it to be!'
mwaaah!

Hey Jimmy have you heard....A thousand words

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 15:52:00 +0000

There was this particular folk-acoustic song that used to send chills down my spine, goose bumps up my arm and thaw my heart into a messy puddle of molten butter at my feet. It was called, ‘nothing to say ‘by an Andrew Peterson (or was it Peter Anderson?). Goooossh that song! Well there was the verse always started with ‘hey jimmy,’ (it’s as though he is having a light yet thoughtful conversation with a friend or cabman called ‘jimmy,’ about what he sees through the window, as they drive by) and the second verse was

‘Hey jimmy,
Have you heard?
A picture paints a thousand words
That photographs don’t tell at all’

I took that as gospel truth for sometime till I saw photography that rendered Andrew Peterson’s (or Peter Anderson’s) lyrics null and void.
While my sisters and step mom answered to the call of estrogen by responding to my pap’s ‘Santa Claus’ statements, of what-can-I –get- u- this- holiday-when –I- am- in-town.’ With cheery answers of ‘perfume, gold jewelry, shoes, etc,’
Mine, (I always viewed myself as some future travelling photographer) was-most times when I could decide- ‘a camera, a lap top, driving lessons. Okay a car! (Lol, I never got there.)
Anyway so my very first camera (that I still own) was my best kept possession, my sis used to laugh and tease me on how I had everything in my room and life so disorganized except that camera. My love for art and forever dabbling in pieces, sketching people in my class, at restaurants, in taxis…was a passion; still is…propelled me to that point where I believed I could defy Andrew Peterson(Peter Anderson)… And have my photos say a thousand things. Besides, I had been totally smitten by a book on campus on award winning photos in Reuters and various journalists of the year for pictures that to me spoke volumes! I got obsessed with sepia and black and white forms of picture but I had to deal with the limitations of my own camera and make the best of it.
I took pictures of landscapes wherever I went. There was one I thought I liked; while taking my usual evening strolls in the neighbourhood, I came to this flat grassy ‘scape that usually fascinated me with the serenity it emanated. And within its silent peaceful moment, a beautiful exotic cat strayed right to the middle of the field. Along with the breeze that caressed the grass as in humble obeisance willing to be swept away- the cat, seemingly sensing the air, sat back on its hunches taking it all in. And we all as one drunk in the only thing that that moment communicated. PEACE.
And CLICK went my camera, capturing and saving an unforgettable period.
But not long after I found another captivating picture.
My tourism class traveled every semester break and this particular time we were heading to Queen Elizabeth National Park. We stopped in kasese, it was terribly hot and we were all dying to step out for a leak, stretch, some food, water, or just to stop. I always sat at the front next to the window and I kept in, staring at the buildings, dilapidated, old colonial structures lay scattered about. I can’t remember what exact town it was, but it was easy to tell that a large population was Indian. I was enamored by the dirty poles once white, the dome shaped roofs and archways, the wind and dust as they swirled against the heat and the feet of the residents. It was all too picturesque. But what totally took my breath away and truly redefined that ‘a picture says a thousand words …’ phrase was a few feet from me… a huge once white pole stood some way off from the bus. It was still jagged with orient designs that disappeared into its pealing plaster but quite visible and two children played round it, trying to catch each other as they raced round and round that pole; a 7 or 8 year old Indian girl and boy both about the same age, prolly her friend kept abreast with her in their little game of ‘chase’. She soon grew weary and leaned back against the pole her shoulder length dark disheveled hair blown haphazardly by the wind, her little worn orange floral dress in curious orange hues, clung loosely to her little frame and her black eyes gazed far far out like in some blank reverie; oblivious to us, foreigners and everyone else. The little boy hardly tired out, came up behind the pole and started pulling lightly, teasingly at her windblown strands, tapping her playfully on the arm, nudging a bit roughly and she wakes from her daydream and returns his pokes but unenthusiastically before returning to her position and almost in a non irritated way shoving her head away occasionally as he played with her strands, leaning out onto one side of the pole. Then he stopped bored I guess, or sensing his playmate’s mood and stared out as she did, leaning out to her against the pole behind her.
Click!
The story in that was volumes for me and I needed it on camera, I saw ‘innocence,’ friendship beyond colour and culture,’ and well, at a an advance level, ‘a love story in 10 years,’
I never kept the film, I procrastinated developing it and watched in horror as it got destroyed by some leakage on to it…that killed me!
But I hope my words described my most captivating moments of camera ever.

the week that has been AND the inside story

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 07:00:00 +0000

'government must be afraid of her people, not people of her government." V for Vendetta

and Museveni asks Kabaka 'why havent you been picking up my calls in the last two years?" in a public address yeeyee!?

MONDAY
the Buganda saga begins, rather mildly though, all i know is the Kabaka is to visit bugerere and kayunga, etc and the UPDF insist they must be deployed to guard the dude but Buganda PM Segona could have eaten dirt before Kulaigye brought his green armed men. in other devastating news, probably a lovers tiff resulting in death on 8th floor worker's house. shudder. shudder.
My morning news week plus doubling over with articles to write and hand in for FLAIR and an interesting interview with Sarah Zawedde over lunch and then meet up with a pal over nitty gritties till late. my phone reminds me about my younger sister's bday. start making plans

TUESDAY
Buganda saga continues but i am really not following, i am doing some story on EAC and Education for my producer, Bitamazire stands me up for an interview. i decide not to call Karooro Okurut either for an already scheduled interview. hand in articles. make appointments to do proof reading of the Mag raw on Thursday. call up lil sis and tell her i wanna take her out for a movie or pizza. (meanwhile its a day too early for her Bday, my phone makes the reminder like two days earlier). take her for pizza anyway. Get dropped home by a buddy.I have no power.

WEDNESDAY
still no power! meanwhile another death at Workers house; 14th floor this time.murder? suicide? not known but the pictures were horrific, his brains practically gashed out of his split head! someone teases me that any day i wanna die i should go to worker's house!
The Buganda youth are beginning to boil, there is tear gas in Kayunga.
I MISSED 'Iam Arl,' BECAUSE there was no power. wished my sis happy birthday again.
went home early, too sleepy to think.watched twilight again. got scared. no power you know.

THURSDAY
Buganda saga rages on.done with news and a late lunch... the scuffle starts. i head to vision to do proofreading...and i am there till 9.15pm. cant go anywhere. my elder sis is calling like every five minutes till i get home at 9.50pm; where are you? are you safe? come home if you cant go to your place. will you get a taxi? no, don't risk your life. i have a bed at home. tomorrow will sort itself out. no, come home!every five minutes. i am so touched by her concern. Another buddy in wandegs calls asking if i am Kawa. time flies so fast all i can see is the pandemonium in town from NBS, Big Brother Forgotten completely as everyone starts calling home to find out how the kids, the hubby is etc. 8.30pm, another buddy calls asks where i am. i say work. he asks if i will get a taxi home. i say i am kawa, i can even do a boda from industrial area, he is utterly shocked and offers to pick me up and take me home if i fail to get a taxi, strongly urging me not to use a boda. i get home by Taxi anyway... in like 15mins all together (we should have riots everyday. clear streets!) he calls again, i say i am safe, young sis texts to find out if i am okay, older sis calls. i am fine and got a lotta more proof reading to do tomorrow.

FRIDAY
September 11th and we just had our September 10th! yesto...
dreading to be up at 4.45. wish i can call the driver and tell him not to come.i wake up in stages. totally exhausted! the news all over the televisions even in outside countries is about yesterday's chaos!. i quarrel with the watch man about the newsroom keys. meanwhile as i type, i haven't had news this morning, no one has come, no camera person. the streets are almost deserted. yesterday, Nateete police station was set ablaze, strangely only police and foreigners were attacked. in Kayunga, it was tight, radios CBS broadcast the riots live! the control person came in late complaining of transport and Baganda (she is a Muganda). the whole news room is so not around... not a very usual sight on a Friday. so anyway in a moment, i will fix me tea, and continue reading Archer's 'A Twist In The Tale' then go on to proof read at 2pm till late....the only highlight for this adrenaline-rush-packed week is good food, Boston Legal and a much anticipated sleep-in!
so how's been you're week?

so
UBC was the only TV that didnt run the riot story on any bulletin. it was number one
story everywhere else...but it being a government institute, panic run amock when the story run in swahili, the powers above were sending messages at record speed to newsroom, not to run the stories. i never saw the admin so involved. anyway...await sackings and whatnots from the preferred network.

tHE CoNTRoVErsIAL 'v'' song

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 12:38:00 +0000

i missed the phat fest and i sooooo wanted to go, i actually would have been able to watch Emmanuel Jal, i think he is a great aRTIST, HIS RAP STYLE IS TOOO WOH! I first heard his song Bakiwala on Power Fm it was on the count down then my utmost fave has been 'shirts too short,' lol the tune, is just groovy, his rap style is across btn P-diddy ( in the days he used to rap) and something else i cant yet place my fingers on...but hes really good and he is soooooo real... when he talks about his life as a child soldier and how his life was saved more than once by God alone, it is remarkable. he is a born again christian too.
any way,he performed as late as midnight on the phat fest, on friday and (i heard) christians were sorely traumatized by his song 'vagina" ( i was sooo amused!) he made it worse by telling guys to sing along to the song. i pitied the christians who were not used to certain body parts being audaciously sang especially form a gospel artist....it sounds like blasphemy... however the message was what mattered to me, as graphic and candid as the language used... that was the idea..to get the message across

part of the interview with emmanuel jaal

B.E.: It takes a few years. And then there's this incredible song “Vagina.” Amazing lyrics. [“To Mr. Oil, Diamond, and Gold miner, stop treating Mama Africa like a vagina. She's not your whore, not anymore. You take the riches and you leave the people poor.”] Tell me about that.

E.J.: Well “Vagina” was inspired by Blood Diamond. And also the issues in Africa, what is killing us. Gold. Diamonds. Oil. Those are the things. It's a message for both the companies and the leaders of Africa, the presidents. Because a lot of people don't know what is really going on in Africa. They don't know what is crippling Africa. So because I'm from there, I know what's going on. And this is a song that tells you the real truth. And people have to judge for themselves.
so what you think? i thought it was okay!

you can read the whole interview here

a breather

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 09:00:00 +0000

It’s well past midnight and I should be in bed, I told myself today I would turn in early, not after writng right into the wee hours of the morning yester night and suddenly don’t want to stop writing. Its rather serene and the words seem to be at the tip of my brain rolling off along to the freshly ground album I am so wholesomely listening to. It’s for a review, actually I have three albums lined up for a review and I need to listen to them tonight, at least… so it prolly means no turning in real soon, even though a part of my brain tells me I need to…stop.
I just tried…
Took a gulp of ice cold water and retraced my steps to my room , leaving the lap top on… big mistake, somehow everything I wanted to say kept wriggling out the cage I had built within to keep them in. but I know the sad tales of keeping in what I want to write…morning light comes and like little vampires, every word, every expression dies at the light of dawn. I don’t understand the relationship my imagination and writing posses with the night and the dark. Sometimes I will turn over in bed and scribble it in my journal or poetry book or whatever papers at my bed side I long since learned to keep stationary close by to prevent rapid extinction of my lipsticks and eye pencil that I would grope for from my shelf in the dark along with sheets of rudely torn paper from anything that was a book.
I got smarter.
So I am rambling, just about anything and everything.

Scent

The music makes me think of scent

Barbecuing steak over a hot charcoal stove on a hot hot urban Saturday afternoon on the rooftop of a beautiful flat roofed double storey house... .The delicious scent of half charred, almost ready marinated meat, potatoes and pepper, mingled with the slight dry breeze that swirls around the barbeque guy, sweaty, strong masculine body odor , not necessarily repulsive…more meaty, manly… weird.
And there is light lovers rock wafting teasingly from the amplified player through the wide open doors and windows of the apartment meshed and merged with giggling, loud jesting and off key singing…
The scene changes but it’s always hot…

Something about Freshly Ground is the image of sultry heat it paints,
And with it blithe, adventurous colours of a sunburned afternoon, straw hats, sandy beaches, barefeet, loose see-through clothing and gaudy sarongs, tough cowhide sandals, flashy beaded bracelets.
I breathe…
Hot arid air, the temperature is only helped by the wind, dry monsoon winds that swirl and twist the sand...Into your eyes… sun glasses, huge and sundry… and all the while, sweat dampened sticky bodies, aching for a dip in the cool beckoning sea water…
And the barbeque guy..
Oh yea…
In rudely shredded khaki shorts, bare chest, constantly wiping the sweat off his brow, as his long fork prods into the pieces of meat turning them over, aware of the wanton eyes of the holiday makers, he can hear their stomachs growl, the juices flow fast as they lick their dry lips. He smiles…
The music plays on… ‘Freshly Ground’
The young merry makers laugh, pretend to mime...dance clumsily… a young man steals stealthy glances...Side long glances at a girl that pretends not to notice. She knows. Her friend already told her he was crunching on her.

I breathe…
Hot arid, sea salt air…
It’s all in the music...

scar tissue.

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 17:38:00 +0000

i met up with a long time friend this weekend, we kinda bumped into each other and the only image that came to my mind when i saw her was her eyes briming over with tears as she flashed the simple gold band with a single diamond stud on it, telling me excitedly about Nick's proposal....,i was soooo excited, this girl had kissed too many frogs and we all decided it was good for her to finally find a prince...
but as i scanned her in the pretty floral dress and scarf... i noticed the taletale signs of a ring...not there anymore. as we talked i could not help but notice Nick did not punctuate our conversation so i braved and asked, suspecting the worst..' hows Nick'
she frowned leaned forward and asked 'who?'
i did not pursue it any further... the blank icy pain in her eyes could not have disguised themselves no matter what.

the blues

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 20:57:00 +0000

somebody told me once that love was my strongest point, something she marveled about me, the strength to whole heartedly give of myself and my time for those i loved. friends, family, a beau... and she told me, 'love is you, when you decide to distance yourself from it... you lose who you really are.

well life has its cruel twists like barbs cutting deep into the very heart of my strength, as if trying to test my resilience, my endurance, as if mocking, 'can you take this too? and that? is love really it? is it strength or weakness."
and like a weary warrior i trudge on encouraging those fallen by the way side that 'love is worth it, it is what makes you beautiful within and without,'
but
after being hit with the blows and barbs of excruciating pains and aches in form of people that claim love or that somehow with 'strength' you choose to love, hurt, betray, forget who you are... then i ask the same questions those i encouraged asked...
'is love strength?"

'why must i be vulnerable only to get crushed?'
'i begin to understand the boy that could not be helped, who told me stonily, 'why must i bare myself to endure an ungracious cold human being. no i don't love no more and that's how i will stay,' and i thought him lost and alone.
but i find myself asking the same question.

i find myself on the inside of my own depression looking out at the world rosy and alive while i die on the inside, groping to join beauty because i know it is where i belong but i find myself wanting...scarred, touched up, scarred and touched up again, so much i am losing who i am and why love is important when all its handed me is barbs, strong thick and sharp.
and i am lost..
i know my greatest strength is what i need but i dont know how to make it to the otherside because i want to leave it behind.
step out of my broken disillusioned self, weep for it, sing a dirge, morn, bury me and live like those dead to love

dead to love....

it feels safer this way.

oba me?

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 04:30:00 +0000

1. What time did you get up this morning?
4.45am
2. How do you like your steak?
very very well done.
3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Public Enemies
4. What is your favorite TV show?
i donno...ummmm....criminal minds.no! ghost whisperer.
5. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?
Oh God IN A LOG CABIN SOMEWHERE FAR FAR AWAY FORM THE MADDING CROWD!
6. What did you have for breakfast?
nothing, i am not a breakfast person.
7. What is your favorite cuisine?
as long as it has irish potatoes i am good to go.
8. What foods do you dislike?
fried eggs.
9. Favorite Place to Eat?
anywhere artsy and alfresco style, closed places make me feel claustrophobic
10. Favorite dressing?
gypsy,linen, loose clothing, short short skirts and short dresses and jeans!
11.What kind of vehicle do you drive?
feetlings
12. What are your favorite clothes?
eh? is it me? or did i not answer that one?
14. Cup 1/2 empty or 1/2 full?
well some days....its either, or
15. Where would you want to retire?
ummmm...Greece?
16. Favorite time of day?
twilight, and dawn
17. Where were you born?
UG
18. What is your favorite sport to watch?
basketball.
19. Who do you think will not tag you back?
i am not thinking, not caring
20. Person you expect to tag you back first?
not thinking banange!
21. Who are you most curious about their responses to this?
ummmmmm, Sleek, Streetsider, Rhino, Sam, the weak dudes!
22. Bird watcher?
Not really
23. Are you a morning person or a night person?
night person
24. Do you have any pets?
used to.
25. Any new and exciting news you’d like to share?
well, lets see... i am excited about the future...
26. What did you want to be when you were little?
oh a tourist forever , can you imagine?
27. What is your best childhood memory?
watching horror movies
28. Are you a cat or dog person?
dog person!
29. Are you married?
nope
30. Always wear your seat belt?
nope
31. Been in a car accident?
Nope
32. Any pet peeves?
inconsiderate selfish people
33. Favorite Pizza Toppings?
ground beef
34. Favorite Flower?
ummm not a flower person
35. Favorite ice cream?
rum and raisin
36. Favorite fast food restaurant?
not so into fast foods
37. How many times did you fail your driver’s test?
haven't done any
38. From whom did you get your last email?
can't remember
39. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card?
i am not a shopping person
40. Do anything spontaneous lately?
yup, was tired of living frugally, i closed my eyes and ordered me a big chicken meal at nandos
41. Like your job?
which one?
42. Broccoli?
collie flower, plse.
43. What was your favorite vacation?
Egypt and the pyramids, Ramadan, ice-cream on cold nights and cute Arab boys
44. Last person(s) you went out to dinner with?
Elvis...tea, lunch then dinner
45. What are you listening to right now?
eh its noise here, a little radio, telly with some stand-up guy
46. What is your favorite color?
ummmm maroon? purple? i donno
47. How many tattoos do you have?
gwash!
48. How many are you tagging for this quiz?
as many as possible
49. What time did you finish this quiz?
8.20am
50. Coffee Drinker?
oh yeah!

just saying...

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 04:42:00 +0000

Ive listened to this song twice or thrice, Te Amo by Rihanna; Her latest hit. i think it is enchanting. her voice is so fluid, crystal clear and strong against the spanish strings and percussions infused as an integral part of the song. now i love music but not just beats, i listen to lyrics for a start and i thought, hey, Rihanna is taking on a male persona in this song, i mean with lyrics like

'She says to me, I hear the pain in her voice
Then we danced underneath the candelabra she takes the lead
Thats when i saw it in her eyes its over '

'Then she says te amo then she put her hand around me waist
I told her no,
She cries Te amo i told her im not gonna run away but let me go
My soul is crying, without asking why
I said te amo, wouldnt somebody tell me what she said
Dont it mean I love you
Think it means I love you
Dont it mean I love you'

so am thinking, really artsy, really nice...if, IF she is actually going this way. then i googled the song and there was this as if one sentence review

"Rihanna might be stirring up a controversy or might be looking at a hit with her latest song “Te Amo” written by James Fauntleroy in which another woman falls in love with her.It is brave of Rihanna to mingle with lesbianism on her tracks."

SO I AM THINKING AGAIN... however i still think its a beautiful song!

mushiness

noreply@blogger.com (lulu) — Sun, 23 Aug 2009 12:50:00 +0000

i watched The Hangover,and thought it was refreshingly hilarious, zack Galifianakis just took the cake for his part.
summary: what do you call a group of guys going absolutely crazy at a bachelor party far far from home, and in the process losing the groom and the morning after,experiencing a disturbing bout of amnesia of the previous night events....BIG TROUBLE!
you need to watch it

then last night i reluctantly started to watch 'Twilight' the teen romance-vampire movie of Bella, new-quickly-gaining-popularity-girl-in-town, falling for Edward a vampire;it grew on me in a few minutes. it is wholesomely worth it watching a movie where the passion and chemistry between two actors actually radiates off the screen and makes you want to fall in love.

what makes this movie nice for me are:

its not the usual vampire movie with blood suckers sulking in the dark, its so 21st century, as if vampires have evolved as well, with supersonic speed and strength,( i knew that for were wolves) the graphics and effects do alot for that, especially parts where he takes her to a mountain like 10,000 feet, whilst running up it and that family baseball game...geeez! their cold intoxicating beauty (so werewolfy too), a deep need for human blood that can actually be repressed then the fact that the typical highschool was giving a horror twist that doesn't involve axe murderers
and, the romance is tangible, its so deep ...it made me mushy. the way he watches her sleep coz he cant sleep. the way he looks at her, soooooo badly wanting to suck her blood but to love her too, at the scene where he comes to her room and tries to kiss her but he throws himself back off her with such force it scares her, and he says with tangible pain...(you guys i could feel it!) "i cant lose control with you,'
then the part Bella says ,' i know who he is but i am not afraid... i am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him," awwww

i wanted to be in love...still do. it felt so forbiddenly and dangerously beautiful.
i am waiting to watch its saga, 'new moon,' already out. i need to buy the books!

anyway critics didnt think it was all that but its kawa, after they applauded 'No country for old men,' i go ahead and watch whatever anyway, to agree or disagree.

then, i got really teary eyed today after playing this song twice, on air, i have listened to it before but it struck me different today

if you never listened to it, gosh you need to,

Artist: The Game
(Feat. Chris Brown, Polow Da Don, Diddy, Usher, Mario Winans, Boys 2 Men)
Song: Better On The Other Side (Michael Jackson Tribute)

the chorus especially; you can get the whole song if you want

'This the type of song that make the angels cry,
I look up in the sky and I wonder why?
why you had to go, go
I know it's better on the other side,
you were chosen from the start
never gon let you go,'

'This the kind of song that make the angels cry,
look up in the sky and ask God, why o why why
Do we live and let die
This the kind of song that make the angels cry,
look up in the sky and ask God, why o why why
Do we live and let, live and let die.'
'
its a beautiful tribute to MJ

okay lemme go watch TinTin, i am losing it here getting all gooey mushy.okay good headstart for the week. see you innit