Moved

for those who still care...http://mizzeizzy.tumblr.com/

;-)

so on and on i'll go

So i'm back.

Every time i try to delete this blog, or parts of it, the title of my blog mocks me, so i though fuck it. It is what it is. Like a note of money, whether dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, its value remains the same...It is what it is, right?

Excuse my previous bitter rant, but this blog holds some of the good, funny, depressin and down right ugly moments, and that my friend was part of the ugly.

Anyways i'm finally done with my sem and will be heading back home on the 5th. Although i claim i dont miss home because the freedom here trumps all, i secretly do, especially the people...my brother most of all. There just some things only he'll get or find funny...i miss our inside jokes.

Cyberjaya is pretty boring actually. Never thought i'd ever find fast unlimited internet boring! tired of downloading movies and music, tired of art and drawing and making things, tired of drunken nights and smokey bars, tired of spicy food, tired of it alllllll damn it.

I want to go back home.

Raw Inspiration

The reason i decided to blog today, although its neither of substance or profound, or even that much! But more importantly the reason i shall continue to write despite my current mental dehydration :- raw inspiration

Ugandans are...

Ever since i got here i've come to the conclusion that;- Ugandans are generally bitch ass niggas! Now i can actually say it out like that because yes i am Ugandan, (but not what you would term as...uhm whats the word...'typical')...but its a bit like 'the-nigga-thing' (how its okay to use the term if your black)...

Its not that i'm hating or trying to deny where i'm from but ever since i got here, i've found i tend to avoid my "fellow country mates" and keep them at a distance. The only good aspect about them is that they are generally party people (although i wouldn't invite any of them to my house party or plan to go out with them, but they are good people to fill up clubs and stuff because the add the hype element )...but it doesn't get any deeper than that. don't make the most reliable friends, not people you want to keep close, not only according to my experience but most of my friends who have gotten to know them agree with me on this.

Perhaps its just Ugandans in this part of the world?

Or are most Ugandans living/studying/working abroad the biggest gossipers and rumor instigators, manipulative, over materialistic, shallow, generic, selfish, drama magnets who have a thing for dating obnoxious Nigerians (who are equally if not even more notorious)? Or is it just the ones i've met so far?

If so, they totally misrepresent people back home...

:-S

(disclaimer : I'm not saying ALL but hell, the majority!)

Sad but true...

Although i don't like to admit it, i think i don't like being alone. (see how i avoid saying it out straight - i cant stand being alone!?!)

The moment i stopped having best friends i started having boyfriends. I tend to jump in and out of relationships pretty fast, theres not that much in-between-single-time. Hate sitting alone at lunch break aswell, even if i don't have much to contribute the group conversation, i like to be there. Then I'm always wondering if i'm too clingy...I hate the feeling of losing good friends but love the feeling of being wanted.

I secretly act like i dont care if my blog is unpopular or if my posts go unread for months but i do.

Sad but true.

words cannot describe what its like...

Its like; tugging a shoelace knot, tight and contort, and unraveling it; a sense of release, intense with each surge, leaving you with an urge for more as it draws away, like the lapping of ocean waves. Persistently nudging yet not quite reaching there, mounting knowledge that its coming, its coming, its coming. Pressing like a full bladder, gasps as it seeps through, uncontrollable like shaking thighs, flowing like a young stream down a rocky mountain side, playful, rushing, splashing, sparkling like beads of sweat dotted on concave foreheads, clinging like a child’s hand on the hem of their mother dress, clinging like they never want to let go. Let go, and emptiness rushes to fill your place like a vacuum, devote of your noise, sight, taste, touch and smell, i can not breath until you plunge back through, like a diver piercing the freavolent surface of the sea, deep dark and blue, breath held, swimming…pushing through…like a volcanic eruption spitting fire, lust, love, steam, leaving smudged hand-prints and kisses on foggy windowsills. fingers woven like fine fabric, like that which lines your pillow that gently cresses your cheek as you fall into sweet satisfied slumber, in an intimate hold, from which fantasies unfold…