Victim Mentality

Today I came into work and as usual logged onto face book while i enjoyed my morning coffee. As i clicked on the home icon on face book, i saw something that very much startled me. A friend, of mine had written a note on face book, where she essentially wrote about, "not knowing who her true friends where, until she had her automobile accident". Apparently according to her after her accident, she discovered that the friend she thought would be there for her, wasn't there at all and that it was the one that she had not spoken to a while that came to her aid. See that's all well and good, except that is complete and utter rubbish. Of course as always i am respectful of peoples rights to thier own feelings but in this case i will have to be excused for my dissension on this issue. i am the friend which she claims did not come to her aid.

I write this not out of guilt but out of anger. Out of rage. Out of disappointment. Out of hurt. How long should someone keep dancing to the tune of their own music? How long before she gets tired, and looks around?

I loved this girl with all my heart. In some ways i was closer to her than my own sister. For years, she was my life, my hope. We went everywhere together. Were was i without her? And she without me? I drew courage from her strength as a woman and from her courage as a person. But all is never as it seems.

Before her accident, we had drifted apart. I cant say why for her, but for me the drifting was done rather consciously. I realised that my friendship with her was becoming mentally exhausting. In fact spiritually exhausting if there is such a thing as that. Ever since she had moved to Town, i had always been there for her. More than her own family. I had many times sacrificed my own needs for her, never for once angry about it. In fact, when she was angry i was angry. I carried her emotions as though they were mine. I carried her pain as though they were mine. I would never smile as she hurt. It was the only kind of friendship i knew. The only one i know now. It is the only sort of friendship i am capable of. I don't know how to give halfway. But it seems she was very much an expert. She would give, as long as it was not of great exertion to her. But even as i write this it would be wrong not to recognize that she was there for me. When my family was evicted, she had opened her home. She taught me many things. When i had no job, she would sit on the computer helping me search for jobs. And she could not have bestowed those graces, on a more grateful individual.

But you see there were differences in "our being there for each other". I was her rock. The one person she always turned to. The one person she knew, would travel above and beyond for her. The one person she could entrust with her son. I loved her son. And i still love her son. And her son knows this. On Saturday, he called me. "Aunty, how come i don't see you anymore?" "How come we don't talk anymore". How broken hearted i felt. I asked him to ask his mom, if he can come over one weekend. I would hate to loose him. To loose that innocent banter we had just because ....


But i realise that my own needs and wants cannot always be relegated to the back seat. Sometimes it needs to be heard. I don't know whose fault that was. Perhaps the primary blame lies with me. Indeed it should. But i saw it only after it had happened. I saw how i remained stagnant, while i helped her to soar. I saw how i helped her achieve, while achieving nothing. While i struggled to stand, i was helping her to do some heavy lifting. But even as i realised all these things. I remained in the friendship. She was my everything. Closer to me than family. I knew not how to let go. Last August, i finally did. Not really out of my volition, but out of a few events that forced me to scrutinize her ever so closely. So disappointed was i in her very character. Perhaps those events were just a catalyst to the true emotions that had remained hidden in my heart for so long. An excuse if you please. Somehow i found the strength to withdraw, to take a step back. Today people ask me a lot of questions like why? After many years of friendship, why? But no one except myself can comprehend how liberated my soul has been for the past month. How whole i feel. How free i feel. I no longer have to ask, is this what she feels or these really my true emotions. Would that they were me just for a second, to experience this.

But even as i reflected, i never thought to end my friendship with her. I just simply needed some time. But i erred in some ways. Firstly i never called her to tell her my feelings. How can one defend against something that they do not know. Secondly i ignore her. However to my surprise she never called and so i presumed that we were both struggling with the same issue.

Then she had her accident. I broke my silence, and tried to call her. She didn't pick up. I resorted to emailing her to wish her a speedy recovery and inquire after her son. We emailed back and forth for a while, until we ran out of things to say and stopped.

I am so angry right now because how simply she has reduced it all. How dare she describe me as the friend that never was? How dare she say that i was never true. Was it her friend, "that she had not spoken to in a while" that lay beside her on the bed all those nights she cried. That reassured her, that encouraged her? That laid her heart bare for her. That grew depressed, when she was. Was it her other friend, that loved her all those years. That loved her son like he was her own. Was it her friend that put her life on her hold for her. Did this friend, always put her first?

I am so glad that she has finally gained some insight on the true "meaning of friendship". I hope for her sake, it is the right meaning.

The White Dress And The Mad Man

Must make mental note never to wear white to an occasion again. I love white, but the shit gives me acute paranoia. This constant need to check myself to make sure that all is well, which involves frequenting the bath room. which in turn gives the impression that i must be suffering from diarrhea. This time around i was positive that my period would somehow disregard its regular cycle to attack me such that i would be covered with blood. But how could i pass on that dress. Having stolen it from my sister, i had been desperately looking for a place to wear it to, and yesterday's event was perfect. The compliments that i received, almost erases the mental torture...almost.. but not quite.
But one would think that the beautiful white dress with all its self inflicting nightmares was the signficant point of the evening. Between my regular visits to the washroom, another story was developed.
As i once again drew my now, tired friend outside, to air the white dress which had once again clung to my body due to heavy dancing, we were approached by a stranger.
A gentleman, who i swear must have been positively over the age of 50 (while i have a tendency to over exaggerate, i promise you that in this case i am in all earnest) approached my friend.
In fact Gentleman is too kind a term, .... perhaps madman is more suitable???....Indeed i shall call him madman!
Madman to friend, thick Nigerian accent and all "what is your name"
Friend "Olive"
At this point, i almost died of laughter. Of all the names she could have come up with.. OLIVE!!!!
madman to friend, "ok O-Leaf" he was of course oblivious that the joke was currently on him.
"O-Leaf, my dear i like you, and i want to get to know you. Give me ehhhhh.. your number"
At this point i had to interrupt him.
Me, "what's your name"
he replied "madman"
"madman", i said to him, "you should know that any self respecting man of your age, should talk to women within a specific age bracket. "O....leaf" is only 21 years of age, which by my calculations makes you old enough to be her father. Isnt that rather ridiculous."
madman was stunned.
i am positive he was thinking, who does this girl think she is.
He tried to rationalise with me. "if she is over 18 years of age, she is old enough"
Me, "for what, exactly? "
I could see the rage in madman's face. "This is the highest ..... eh... chei. Insult i have.... received in this Canada, and.. and ... and....by this little girl" . He sputtered. Visibly upset.
Interesting to note, that we were all of a sudden "little girls".
Anyways, the madman fled, but not before he announced to everyone and anyone who would hear him, that he had been really insulted.
friend to me, "am really glad i came with you, i wouldn't have known what to say to him. I usually just smile and ignore them"
Me to friend, "my dear, so did i but in a community as small as this, 2 minutes of your time, where they are seen talking to you is all they need to spread malicious gossip. I have decided that it is better to be misconstrued as rude than to have them claim sexual liaisons with me."
friend to me, "true"
we decided that we were going to have to sit this party out.

Nigeria: Not The Giant Of Africa!

Today, Nigeria celebrates its 46th year of independence.. from colonial rule that is. I suppose that is indeed an achievement. But you will excuse me if i am not exactly jumping up and down in jubilation. In places around the world, events are to be held to commemorate this important milestone. But i remain confused as to exactly what i am supposed to be cheering about. My sense of forboding is further illustrated by Nigeria's 37th position in the new Ibrahim African Governance Index, which ranks 48 African countries from best to worst. That leaves us with little with which to congratulate ourselves on. Its often been said, that a true patriot is one who loves her country even as she is critical of it. I will not be part of any celebration this weekend, because we cannot continue to celebrate our independence from colonial rule without nothing to show for it. Its almost akin to the peoples of the American South, who rejoice in the American Ideal, all the while ignorant of its numerous failings. We must concern ourselves, with how to better our federation. We must want more for ourselves. When Corruption, greed, and meagre human rights ceases to be the staple of the Nigerian federation, only then will the labours of our heroes past, not be in vain. Only then can we proudly salute. A half-hearted "happy Independence day" to my Compatriots.

Randomania

This post is aptly titled Radomania because it is just that.. Random..
A few things that i must get off my chest, so that this week might progress accordingly.

Firstly
Is the Good Cameroonian, who i MUST now call the fucked Cameroonian. I find that despite having quite an agreeable dick, he in in fact suffering from acute mental retardation. How mutually exclusive those two are! I mean seriously, how can a 30 year old man lack so much tact? Eh! I mean the shit that he spews. I suppose, the highest was when the ignoramus asked that i lend him $500. The asshole must have thought, that his dick had impeded my rationale. Oh the look on his face, he was so sure I'd come through. But even i can see through my rants to ask the truly important question. How the fuck did i give this fucking imbecile the guts and the nerve to behave as such. Eh? I mean there must be something about my relations with him, that afforded him the confidence to approach me with that. There is absolutely nothing wrong in asking for money. It was just his arrogant confidence. Did he think he would dick his way into my bank account??? He was so surprised how quickly i recovered from my orgasm. He needs to fuck off. And find another bitch to stick his dick inside. Unlike Beyonce, i aint ready to be no Suga Mama.

Secondly
I have these two bitches at work, who for the past month have simply gone out of thier way to make my life miserable. At first, i was quite the coward. Smiling in the face of their overt insults and false gestures. But then Kiera snapped me out of it. "why do you take that shit from them'??? That was the sound slap i needed. Cause you best believe i woke up from that reverie of mine. I kinda like the response i got, when one of them called me to lecture me on some work that was never my responsibility to begin with. Quite bluntly i said, " If you will not communicate with me with respect, then i cannot talk with you." Kpom.. I hung up the phone. It was kind of scary but uplifting. Throughout, the day she could not look me in the eye. They must wonder, about my new found confidence. I try as much as possible to avoid unnecessary confrontation and to avoid their paths, but should the occasion arise I am so happy to know, that i can and definitely will bitch slap them to reality. Good riddance Heffers!

Thirdly
During a trip outta town i met this really hot guy called, Teric. Problem numero uno, he cannot string a cohesive English sentence. Which wouldn't be a problem. If i could string a cohesive french sentence. So i am back in town. And our phone conversation ranges from. "How you" Ca va? Are you good? good.....good.. soooooooo.. and you goood? OK! How work?.. The other day, we managed to expand the scope of our conversation, (much to my childish glee) to talk about his being the only child, and his negative opinion of marriage and the like. Being that his upbringing wasn't of the traditional kind, he is very much in opposition to the institution of marriage. Which quite frankly i cannot blame him.Another obstacle is that Teric comes after my experience with the Fucked Cameroonian, and the danger is that i might just be jumping from one sinking ship to another. But indeed There is something about Teric that i quite fancy. This quiet, unassuming confidence that he has, that strikes a chord within me. Ironically the language barrier may be working to his advantage, because i haven't had to endure the typical shenanigans that people spew when getting to know one another. Few days ago, he spoke about his desire to learn English so that he may know me better. I realise that this man may turn out to be the very devil incarnate, but i cherish those words for all they are worth (which is currently little). The simplicty of it charms me.. I do wish that we could communicate beyond the basics. I hope i am not shooting blanks here, but In my next life i must remember to pay attention during French Class. Until then i will have to settle with our limited talk. No matter how hollow and confining they may be:(

What is this i feel?

Hate
this vile unrepentant energy
that courses through my veins
Anguish
this nefarious understanding that i cannot have
what belongs to another
this realisation that i may only want it
because i can never have it
pain
this settling of despondency
in my heart
that threatens to rule me
hope
this awareness
that i know
thus i can change

Who Is Fucking Who?

yesternight, as i emerged from orgasmic bliss
in the arms of the good Cameroonian
a certain, emptiness surfaced
one which i rejected
my lust for the good Cameroonian dick
withers
me thinks its the repetitious fucking with no emotional connect
but i would loathe to admit such to myself
I realise that i could fuck him indefinitely
but something grows amiss.

Mr. Burly

My Dear Reflexxxions

How do you do? Oh my dear, i do hope that your stars are in alignment. Its been days since i have had the occasion to write to you. I am quite contrite and hope very much that all is well with you. Oh where to start! My current state of affairs leaves me with so much to narrate. Had it not been for my rather skewed relationship with God, i would have found more solace in meditation. But as such is the condition which i find myself, i must make do with writing this composition. First on my mind, is my recent dismissal of a certain burly man who had hitherto occupied the much "sought after" position of suitor or as i much prefer "wooer". my timely dismissal of Mr Burly was to have rid me of the rather undue stress that is caused when someone enters into an unjustifiable state of infatuation. Indeed i could hardly contain my annoyance when he went on a tirade about how i had without scruples destroyed his heart and existence. To hear him put it, he can never go on , as i was his "life". I wonder that Mr Burly should have allowed me such dominion over his person in just a matter of weeks. Indeed i find it rather ridiculous that a man of his age and status should expose himself so freely to another without caution. Nevertheless, to him i was perfect, and possessing of all the qualities that any reasonable man would desire. I blush to imagine myself to be of any perfection, especially being so cognitive of my numerous failings. But of course in the beginning i was much enamoured with Mr Burly as he seemed obsessively bent on securing my present and future happiness. He was quite unselfish in his efforts. I was congratulated by all the world at how prosperous i was in securing such a gentleman. Oh to remember how foolishly gleeful i had been. However with the passage of weeks, i was to be rather rattled at the severity of his likeness. Indeed it was no ordinary "like". He pronounced his undying love and affection for me. And i ridiculously succumbed to pressure and announced my own love, though i could not comprehend the significance of my words. That did not deter Mr Burly from premature elation at my pronouncement, i don't believe he cared very much for my meaning. It seemed that to have heard the words uttered to him was enough. My irritation with him was to be further increased when he insisted that he must know of my every whereabouts and that he must communicate with me at every hour except at my sleeping hours. Our relationship was perhaps more burdened by the distance as he lived 9 hrs away. While i consider myself to be of a compromising nature, i must say that i loathe any attempt by any to reign superior over me. It is important to note that Mr Burly who had been so possessing of numerous good traits and fundamental good spirits, became so bothersome to my very tranquility that i inwardly decided upon his immediate removal from his position of "suitor". To put my plans in motion was of great emotional exertion. I managed to do so, but not before i was subjected to a series of castigation's and cries. I was accused of unpardonable evil. Indeed he hoped that in future i was to experience the same pain i had so unrepentantly put him through. Had i any remaining misgivings in my heart about ending our relations, Mr Burly was to erase them completely with his condemnation of my character and his bad wishes . Indeed he made it so much easier for myself. Presently Mr Burly is no longer a part of my life. I still think him to be fundamentally of good repute and character. But his personality was so unbecoming to me. It is not enough for someone to be good , they must also be good for you. And you must fit each other. Regrettably such was not the case for Mr Burly and myself. Happy i am to report that Mr Burly, despite his conviction at the time of our demise that death was around the corner for him, is very much alive. Indeed i wonder why people make such ridiculous declarations. Do they hope to cause you enough guilt so that you may reconsider. I am as always so filled with questions. And to be sure they are such few real answers. Mon Dieu!!! My dear reflexxxions, it is quarter past the hour. I had not intended to write for this long. I am pleased to have forewarned you of the long narration. Indeed i must return to my work. I shall write again in due time. Do take care sweets.

Your's Truly
Oui C'est Moi

MY GOOD CAMERONIAN DICK

A sunday prayer to this good Cameroonian dick

that maketh my cup to runneth over.

It is true that one canst find all in one dick

but in this dick i find great endless pleasure

the gates of hell open each time he thursts into me,

for i shall not hold the HEAVENS responsible for the unatural grunts

that emanates from within my being

everytime he fucketh me

"Fuck Me"

And he does

ferociously

hitting it

he anticipates the rise and fall of my lithe body

he allows me to fuck him

to gyrate against him

and i do

with recckless eagerness

with wanton abandon

an OVATION to this good Cameroonian dick

it pains me so that i canst makes thy dick permanent

for it is not my pussy that posesses thee

elsewhere you belong

though time runneth against us

i shall fuck on

till we bid adieu

mon dieu!

My Good Cameroonian Dick.

Deluded innocence

a delusion so flowery in youth
enamored by a social implanted consciousness of "innocence "
i fancied myself a waif, a wreath without thorns
if you would please
and when that innocence was taken from whence it came,
i reacted as i was fashioned to,
with cries and imaginings of lost glory and such
self imposed trauma (that i was supposed to feel).
no longer whole (because i wasn't supposed to be)
he had taken something from me (as if he really had that power)
shame on me, for i had lost that Magical shit that
made me.. defined me once my mother was told i was me.
me being female and weak, an inanimate earthly entity of sorts
Would that i knew then what i know now
blind i was to the true reality
that, the shit was not me
I am me
I would have gladly skipped the woeful self pitying of deluded innocence lost