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…

Verbal constipation...brace yourself!

My mental pathways have been clogged with thoughts, emotions, memories, half digested experiences, a little bit of THC and alcohol for a while now. It’s starting to ache, and as painfully awkward as it may be blogging again, it needs to be done.

So excuse me as I bang and scratch at the cubical walls of my blog, pant, rant, moan and groan, I really need to take a dump, off my mind, and let it swirl on the page half submerged so I can look at it. Smell my own shit, acknowledge it, detox and move on.

That’s what blogs are for after all. Your own personal cubical where you can scratch things into the wall and fill it with your shit, just more hygienic…but as therapeutic as taking a daily dump.

P.S. We all go through that crude phase when poop never ceases to amuse, don't act like you don't know what i'm on about. Enjoying good poop jokes n metaphors requires an rare sense of humor, one that is imaginatively comic yet twisted. I don’t blame if most of you are slightly cringing right now...Last time I checked I was the youngest blogger here, at least in this part of the blogsville, so let the child play damn it. ^_^

PART ONE: THE FART…a long and whiny one at that…

Although I’ve retaind my highschool poop jokes, I’m all grown up. Well, in the process. Just finished my first semester, it wasn’t as hard as I thought but the work load was crazy! I thought the whole point I decided to step back and do a foundation year was to buy time to chill out, especially since I didn’t get my gap year and my senior break that’s supposed to be at least half a year was cut short! Its ironic now that since I’m starting my degree for real now next year in mid February, my foundation class is signed up for an exchange program to go finish sem2 in the UK! WTF! Now I feel like blowing off my degree just to go party, ahem study ahem, in the UK with friends for a month! But when weighed against finishing school quickly and having a month of fun in the UK, I would chose finishing school quickly! Having a taste of living on my own on my own turns with my own atm card and shit has given me more motivation to start my own life and cut my parental strings completely!

They say the freedom was better than breathing. They were right. Its…exhilarating, even when your broke and stuck at home, the fact that I’m free to roam, just pick up and walk out, or bring in whoever I please is exhilarating! Still I’m not yet completely free…the bars have been lifted but I’m still shackled to my mother, and of recent after the skype incident, shes made her chain awfully short.

Most parents are meant to wash their hands of their children when they turn eighteen and move away for university. Not mine. I still go through that afterschool conversation. “How was school. Fine. Anything new? No. Have you finished your homework?. Yes. Good.” Just this time its not over the dining table (Ha more like dinner on the couch infront of the TV as she sits at the table) and she doesn’t becon me to her room to talk, but instead calls every single fucking day! Everyday, I still have nothing new to say…even if I did, I wouldn’t tell her. I wish I could, but I’ve tried and it upset her, so I just tell her what she wants to hear, keep her blood pressure regular. I’m still operating undercover, just that since I’m over seas, its less extreme, but I’m not free from the fascist dictatorship yet.

Infact her Excellency is planning a months vist here. A MONTH! Couldn’t have picked a worse time, especially with Christmas and new years, instead of having crazy fun for once on new years, I shall most likely be in bed at home, because my mother will be around and disapproves of seasonal jolly making, especially when it involved boys and intoxicants. I could scream! Well, in order not to lose my mind, I’ve devised a plan to take her touring around Malaysia. Perhaps the change of scenery will help fight off the sinking depression of having my mother and celibate “you-know-you-can-get-cancer-from-that” aunty here for Christmas. AND new years.

After that, infact the day they leave I’ll pack up and go on a road trip, go live at a surfer town, was thinking particularly of desaru, I hear they have amazing coast line. Since when did I surf? Well apparently I coast (on a skateboard) like a surfer, someone recommended I try it out, I may be a natural. ;-) plus I LOVE ocean. When I get back, plan to be off for even more coastline when my friends get back and go to the infamous party island of langkawi where alcohol is cheaper than water. Can u sense the big grin creeping up my face just thinking about that? It still sucks that my holiday will but cut a month short. (The time my mother is here does not count as holiday). Note to all potential or young parents who may just happen to be browsing through, leave your kids the fuck alone when they go to university, okay?!?

sheeesh!