Tuesday, April 13, 2010
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…
Sunday, December 20, 2009
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!
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Going Blond? (and no i'm not bitching again)
I think I have a condition...ike that dude in the movie The curious case of Benjamin Button…although the difference is that although I may think like a 80 year old woman, I don’t look like one…lol. Seriously, I have had several remarks form various un-connected sources how I’m too old for my age.
I was watching old reruns of the Simpsons and they happened to show that episode where flanders realizes he is 60 something but hasn’t lived a day in his life, then they go to Vegas…(for you losers who don’t watch Simpsons or if you forgot or if you haven’t realized the importance of me landing on this particular episode! CLICK HERE BEFORE YOU READ ANYMORE)…to make it worse Everybody loves Raymond came on next and it was the episode when he goes through his mid life crisis…!!! (I felt like i was turning into a flounders of sorts :-S )
It felt like a sign.
You know, like when everything around you seems to be directly referring to a situation your currently going through?
I’m a sensitive person, I pick up on things happening around me, I deep think. I think I think too much, and that’s part of the problem! At my age I should technically be going wild: eighteen, apartment, university, not in the same country with relatives…yet I’m just going through the motions of life, cautiously…like a freaking 59 year old in the ending phase of their career.
Oxytim warned me about this. How I used to tell him all the crazy things I want to do when I leave home, and he would always say that I would be surprised that I wasn’t going to do even half the things he mentioned…I think I now see his point. Its hard to shake off old habits and behaviors you pick up when living at home. Like not getting too drunk because you know you’re going to face your mother at the end of the night, of getting nervous when it gets past midnight when you go out or looking around for that odd relative who may happen to see you and tell your mother. Now theres no mother in the picture anymore, but I still haven’t shaken off these habits…its strangling me!
Naturally I have a very bohemian spirit, I have impulses, but I act too much with head and not my heart…I partly blame the subjects I was so into during school: history, psychology and literature have made me too analytical! But mostly I blame this on upbringing. I used to rebel against what they wanted to mold me into back home, not because I’m big headed (okay maybe I am) but because I realized early that people always try to project their unfulfilled dreams onto you, then claim they want the best for you, which is a lie, the want you to be what they could not or want to be but aren’t quite close, hence really its not about what’s best for you, its about whats best for them, but since they cant do/have it they project it on a loved one or someone they think deserve it. Although most times its not really whats best for you.
My mother used to by me dresses when I was young and I would refuse to wear them, even on Sunday mornings, because frankly they were itchy, stiff and just didn’t feel right. And thus began my obsession with pants/trousers and shorts…and fear of dresses too! LoL! I’ve always been strong willed, but recently I think I was beginning to fold under my mothers will. You know how bakiga women are. They tough, and to make it worse, she’s a single parent too!
Cant believe I actually agreed to go to a Christian camp, for like a whole freaking week! And never used it as an opportunity to spend a week away from home doing some serious partying! That’s what I would have done like 2 years ago. Its amazing how much someone can change in just a year!
I might as well mention now that the being saved thing has officially gone out the window. The church thing only works when there is reinforcement from a pressure group, eg, like the fellowship I had began to attend. I really did try though…
I’ve gone from attending fellowship twice a week to living in an apartment with stoners…one is bound to drop and pick up habits.
Anyways, I think the universe has been trying to tell me something…I’m too old for my age. Its beyond being mature, its now being just plain senile! I don’t want to hit like 40 something and realize I missed out on my childhood!! If I’m already getting my mid life crisis now, what about when I turn 40?
Its like as if I’m married with my bu rings and long distance boyfriend, dress like I’ve lost my figure, don’t let go and do impulsive things like as if I may dislocate my hip or have med’s to take in the morning…Maybe I’m just deep thinking again, but I think I’ve struck a nerve. I don’t want to miss out on my “childhood”.
Forget next years resolution, as of now I’m going to go “blond”! Be stupidly impulsive, get high like I don’t have anything to do tomorrow (even if its just a Thursday night)…leave the house semi naked, it gets damn hot here anyways…speak my mind and say inappropriate stuff, I’m used to awkward moments anyways…wear heals and do the make-up thing (okay think I’ve taken it too far there, lol, Hell nooo!...maybe just a little….noooo….yesss???)…try a chemically based drug like cocaine, E, LSD, acid…have these blood pumping experience in shady areas, (like in sex on fire-Kings of Leon) one night stands I think they call them…lol. (I know my boyfriend may well possibly read this so just joking about the last comment there…but seriously, I wonder what they are like…). I’m going to get that tattoo I’ve been talking about, and piercings as well, and a sisha bong…
I have this urge to write a bucket list of sorts. If I was to die today it would be a damn shame because I basically haven’t done shit in life. Just think about shit mob!
I live in Babylon, was born and raised in Babylon, its about time I got to know the place, get one of those “I heart Babylon” tourist T-shirts. See, taste, experience Sodom, before all goes to hell…then maybe I can walk away from it all together without turning back one last time…see I think that dude had unfinished business there, that’s why he turned back and was turned to salt…(what part of the bible is that btw?, I should look it up before I start making up stuff! lol). I don’t want to get old and feel like I have unfinished business as well…
I think it’s time I got a life(outside my head). Moving out of the analytical thinking part of my brain and going to dwell more on the animalistic impulsive part.
As long as it feels good...
I’m tired of the restricted life. I’m pulling an Anikin Skywalker and moving to the darkside…hope I don’t emerge as a darth vader though… :-S
I was watching old reruns of the Simpsons and they happened to show that episode where flanders realizes he is 60 something but hasn’t lived a day in his life, then they go to Vegas…(for you losers who don’t watch Simpsons or if you forgot or if you haven’t realized the importance of me landing on this particular episode! CLICK HERE BEFORE YOU READ ANYMORE)…to make it worse Everybody loves Raymond came on next and it was the episode when he goes through his mid life crisis…!!! (I felt like i was turning into a flounders of sorts :-S )
It felt like a sign.
You know, like when everything around you seems to be directly referring to a situation your currently going through?
I’m a sensitive person, I pick up on things happening around me, I deep think. I think I think too much, and that’s part of the problem! At my age I should technically be going wild: eighteen, apartment, university, not in the same country with relatives…yet I’m just going through the motions of life, cautiously…like a freaking 59 year old in the ending phase of their career.
Oxytim warned me about this. How I used to tell him all the crazy things I want to do when I leave home, and he would always say that I would be surprised that I wasn’t going to do even half the things he mentioned…I think I now see his point. Its hard to shake off old habits and behaviors you pick up when living at home. Like not getting too drunk because you know you’re going to face your mother at the end of the night, of getting nervous when it gets past midnight when you go out or looking around for that odd relative who may happen to see you and tell your mother. Now theres no mother in the picture anymore, but I still haven’t shaken off these habits…its strangling me!
Naturally I have a very bohemian spirit, I have impulses, but I act too much with head and not my heart…I partly blame the subjects I was so into during school: history, psychology and literature have made me too analytical! But mostly I blame this on upbringing. I used to rebel against what they wanted to mold me into back home, not because I’m big headed (okay maybe I am) but because I realized early that people always try to project their unfulfilled dreams onto you, then claim they want the best for you, which is a lie, the want you to be what they could not or want to be but aren’t quite close, hence really its not about what’s best for you, its about whats best for them, but since they cant do/have it they project it on a loved one or someone they think deserve it. Although most times its not really whats best for you.
My mother used to by me dresses when I was young and I would refuse to wear them, even on Sunday mornings, because frankly they were itchy, stiff and just didn’t feel right. And thus began my obsession with pants/trousers and shorts…and fear of dresses too! LoL! I’ve always been strong willed, but recently I think I was beginning to fold under my mothers will. You know how bakiga women are. They tough, and to make it worse, she’s a single parent too!
Cant believe I actually agreed to go to a Christian camp, for like a whole freaking week! And never used it as an opportunity to spend a week away from home doing some serious partying! That’s what I would have done like 2 years ago. Its amazing how much someone can change in just a year!
I might as well mention now that the being saved thing has officially gone out the window. The church thing only works when there is reinforcement from a pressure group, eg, like the fellowship I had began to attend. I really did try though…
I’ve gone from attending fellowship twice a week to living in an apartment with stoners…one is bound to drop and pick up habits.
Anyways, I think the universe has been trying to tell me something…I’m too old for my age. Its beyond being mature, its now being just plain senile! I don’t want to hit like 40 something and realize I missed out on my childhood!! If I’m already getting my mid life crisis now, what about when I turn 40?
Its like as if I’m married with my bu rings and long distance boyfriend, dress like I’ve lost my figure, don’t let go and do impulsive things like as if I may dislocate my hip or have med’s to take in the morning…Maybe I’m just deep thinking again, but I think I’ve struck a nerve. I don’t want to miss out on my “childhood”.
Forget next years resolution, as of now I’m going to go “blond”! Be stupidly impulsive, get high like I don’t have anything to do tomorrow (even if its just a Thursday night)…leave the house semi naked, it gets damn hot here anyways…speak my mind and say inappropriate stuff, I’m used to awkward moments anyways…wear heals and do the make-up thing (okay think I’ve taken it too far there, lol, Hell nooo!...maybe just a little….noooo….yesss???)…try a chemically based drug like cocaine, E, LSD, acid…have these blood pumping experience in shady areas, (like in sex on fire-Kings of Leon) one night stands I think they call them…lol. (I know my boyfriend may well possibly read this so just joking about the last comment there…but seriously, I wonder what they are like…). I’m going to get that tattoo I’ve been talking about, and piercings as well, and a sisha bong…
I have this urge to write a bucket list of sorts. If I was to die today it would be a damn shame because I basically haven’t done shit in life. Just think about shit mob!
I live in Babylon, was born and raised in Babylon, its about time I got to know the place, get one of those “I heart Babylon” tourist T-shirts. See, taste, experience Sodom, before all goes to hell…then maybe I can walk away from it all together without turning back one last time…see I think that dude had unfinished business there, that’s why he turned back and was turned to salt…(what part of the bible is that btw?, I should look it up before I start making up stuff! lol). I don’t want to get old and feel like I have unfinished business as well…
I think it’s time I got a life(outside my head). Moving out of the analytical thinking part of my brain and going to dwell more on the animalistic impulsive part.
As long as it feels good...
I’m tired of the restricted life. I’m pulling an Anikin Skywalker and moving to the darkside…hope I don’t emerge as a darth vader though… :-S
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Having a Dead Prez moment over independence day...
Uganda Oye?!?!
What a joke, the majority of Ugandans I know aren’t even patriotic but were only psyched up about independence day because of opportunity to booze!
Shows you how strongly we feel about our country, it kinda pissed me off, because no one wanted to talk politics that day.
No one wanted to discuss why we don’t have one main language in Uganda, I googled it and it said it was English, what bullshit! Do you know how hard it is to explain that to fellow Africans from more progressive African nations, that I can not communicate to someone from the north or east of my own country?!
That people still die from diseases that are curable?!
That part of the country is in famine yet there is more than enough food?!
That our leader encourages and makes more opportunities for foreigners to invest in our country but not for local Ugandans. ?!
That our bank systems are scams.?!
Last night would have been the perfect night to talk about this shit, but people would rather go clubbing. So what could I do? I cant discuss this shit by myself. So I pushed it to the back of my mind and went out “celebrate ” independence in KL (Kuala Lumpur)
The celebrations were being held at a Nigerian place called “Goody Foody”…I know…Sounds like a fucking supermarket or food court at some dingy mall! LoL, anyways, despite the wack name people turned up in numbers! What sucked most was that they all knew each other, and were all on about their own shit, and I just kinda sat there…
The people I came with were like “just come, meet fellow Ugandans”…I did I guess, first stared, said hi, shouted some inaudible words over booming music, then they asked to dance looking all druged up and like their hands were gonna go all over the wrong places…I wasn’t in the mood for that shit so I said no….went out after a while to get some fresh air and then just stayed there…I don’t count having sex with clothes on with a guy whose name you’re going to forget in the morning “meeting fellow Ugandans”.
It’s not that I’m not a wet blanket or stuck up but I really do find that shit weak, it doesn’t stir even a bit of excitement in me so why pretend that it does just for social approval. Fuck that. Call me stuck up if you want. Its just not me…plus niggas weren’t even fly or nothing…lol.
I meet some ladies too, but with them it never went past the hello…somehow I don’t really connect with fellow Ugandan women…okay not all but most.
I don’t know why either…for instance, I think I was the only chick in sandals that night. LoL. Okay I know, who wear slippers to a damn club but why the hell do women wear stupidly uncomfortable heels to club? That night I saw like several pairs of heels of under the table and a bunch of barefoot ladies….only if they knew how dirty the floors are! LoL. Its hypocritical if you ask me…you were heels just so that when you walk your ass moves in an appeasing way for men to later take them off when you get too high to walk let alone dance because your feet are killing you. I don’t know about y’all but I love my feet, and hate uncomfortable shoes with a passion…
I still wonder though why I don’t easily connect with my people?! The new person I meet yesterday and actually connected with was a 17 year old Korean girl. (at campus though, not at the club) That’s kinda fucked up huh? At least to them I’m black no doubt…you have no idea how annoying it is to be called a “white” when I’m clearly not.
Only if I knew what people define as “black”, maybe I could work on it…but the thing is there is no definite definition, and the most commonly agreed upon, or stereotypes of what a black woman should be is damn degradable.
If being a black young woman today means wearing fake European hair, uncomfortable shoes, having sex with clothes on with strangers in clubs, being loud rude and gossipy, listening to bad yet popular music, being materialistic and manipulative…if that’s what is considered a fine young black woman I don’t think i want to be one.
I believe that its the cultures we adopt that shall blind us, its the choices we make that shall guide us. I want to be who i am because of the choices i made, not because of the cultures I've adopted because no offence but some cultural customs are ridiculous....especially African ones.
This post would have been so much better if I had stayed home with a couple of brilliant minds, smoked some thought provoking herb, put on some beats, and talked politics…in my PJ’z…
What a joke, the majority of Ugandans I know aren’t even patriotic but were only psyched up about independence day because of opportunity to booze!
Shows you how strongly we feel about our country, it kinda pissed me off, because no one wanted to talk politics that day.
No one wanted to discuss why we don’t have one main language in Uganda, I googled it and it said it was English, what bullshit! Do you know how hard it is to explain that to fellow Africans from more progressive African nations, that I can not communicate to someone from the north or east of my own country?!
That people still die from diseases that are curable?!
That part of the country is in famine yet there is more than enough food?!
That our leader encourages and makes more opportunities for foreigners to invest in our country but not for local Ugandans. ?!
That our bank systems are scams.?!
Last night would have been the perfect night to talk about this shit, but people would rather go clubbing. So what could I do? I cant discuss this shit by myself. So I pushed it to the back of my mind and went out “celebrate ” independence in KL (Kuala Lumpur)
The celebrations were being held at a Nigerian place called “Goody Foody”…I know…Sounds like a fucking supermarket or food court at some dingy mall! LoL, anyways, despite the wack name people turned up in numbers! What sucked most was that they all knew each other, and were all on about their own shit, and I just kinda sat there…
The people I came with were like “just come, meet fellow Ugandans”…I did I guess, first stared, said hi, shouted some inaudible words over booming music, then they asked to dance looking all druged up and like their hands were gonna go all over the wrong places…I wasn’t in the mood for that shit so I said no….went out after a while to get some fresh air and then just stayed there…I don’t count having sex with clothes on with a guy whose name you’re going to forget in the morning “meeting fellow Ugandans”.
It’s not that I’m not a wet blanket or stuck up but I really do find that shit weak, it doesn’t stir even a bit of excitement in me so why pretend that it does just for social approval. Fuck that. Call me stuck up if you want. Its just not me…plus niggas weren’t even fly or nothing…lol.
I meet some ladies too, but with them it never went past the hello…somehow I don’t really connect with fellow Ugandan women…okay not all but most.
I don’t know why either…for instance, I think I was the only chick in sandals that night. LoL. Okay I know, who wear slippers to a damn club but why the hell do women wear stupidly uncomfortable heels to club? That night I saw like several pairs of heels of under the table and a bunch of barefoot ladies….only if they knew how dirty the floors are! LoL. Its hypocritical if you ask me…you were heels just so that when you walk your ass moves in an appeasing way for men to later take them off when you get too high to walk let alone dance because your feet are killing you. I don’t know about y’all but I love my feet, and hate uncomfortable shoes with a passion…
I still wonder though why I don’t easily connect with my people?! The new person I meet yesterday and actually connected with was a 17 year old Korean girl. (at campus though, not at the club) That’s kinda fucked up huh? At least to them I’m black no doubt…you have no idea how annoying it is to be called a “white” when I’m clearly not.
Only if I knew what people define as “black”, maybe I could work on it…but the thing is there is no definite definition, and the most commonly agreed upon, or stereotypes of what a black woman should be is damn degradable.
If being a black young woman today means wearing fake European hair, uncomfortable shoes, having sex with clothes on with strangers in clubs, being loud rude and gossipy, listening to bad yet popular music, being materialistic and manipulative…if that’s what is considered a fine young black woman I don’t think i want to be one.
I believe that its the cultures we adopt that shall blind us, its the choices we make that shall guide us. I want to be who i am because of the choices i made, not because of the cultures I've adopted because no offence but some cultural customs are ridiculous....especially African ones.
This post would have been so much better if I had stayed home with a couple of brilliant minds, smoked some thought provoking herb, put on some beats, and talked politics…in my PJ’z…
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
People say...
Since I’ve got here, I’ve heard alot about the groups of people here, from a lot of various people, Okay, these could all just be stereotypical but there is no smoke without fire, right?
...things like:
Nigerian men are rich, but really arrogant and violent. If there’s a bar fight somewhere, it must be a Nigerian, if someone felt like buying drinks for the whole club, must be Nigerian…
People from Botswana (what do you call a person from Botswana???) are fast, sex is easy come easy go with them, and so apparently are STD’s….
Don’t fuck with 9ja boys, or Chinese women, most have Chinese guys or guys-who-wanna-be-their-guys, and they have connections with the yakuza mafia, and they can really fuck you up just for looking at one in the wrong way!
Malays are lazy people, they run on African time too! LoL!
Ugandan girls give good head/blowjobs/fellatio …. ?!?!
damn, now i have a reputation to up hold...lol.
P.S. Finally set up my private blog Eizzy Uncensored, y'all are welcome to read it but on condition that:
> i dont know you in real life and if i do i wont proberbly ever see you in real life again
>No family or people connected to any family member in anyway, that especially excludes people who work in new vision or the ugandan press and the tourisim industry
>No boyfriends or before mentiond "him"s
>no people from my church back home (watoto former KPC)
>people i know on facebook.
I think that about covers it!
seriously though, its just easier to share stuff with people i dont really know...or know very well. Inbetween means uncertianty, possible friend or foe and hence not to be trusted. I'll keep this blog up and running though, though may change the focus of the content to more genral reader friendly things...
Thursday, October 1, 2009
RaNdOm musings, Decisions and Things...
Have you ever had the urge to just walk up to some random but seemingly cool person and just spill the beans, pour your heart out, tell them all, the hilarious random thoughts, strange realizations, deep secrets, childhood memories, family drama…just blurt it out, unwound and boundless from social constraints and norms of proper conversation making…regardless to the fact that they wont even know what your talking about or frankly care…?
Yeah, in that unpunctuated fashion too.
I guess that’s why we blog (those of us who fill our blogs with personal/fantasy content that is). Our blogs don’t give us the that WTF look, and aren’t inconvenienced by us in any way either! That’s partly the reason I think the service industry would be so much better if it was run entirely by robots. From the immigration and URA offices to Dominos pizzeria and supermarket stores. I mean no one really WaNtS to do those kind of jobs anyway, I mean if a dude didn’t have the option to do melancholy jobs like being a janitor, imagine what he would be doing? (well, that and if we lived in a society where we succeeded in life not on the connections and money we had but on merit, passion and hard work…) …in a parallel universe maybe.
If you can follow my train of thought here, and understand what I’m saying….drop me a comment. LoL
And no that’s not a cheap endorsement to get you to comment on my blog. (Its actually a clever jedi trick but if I explained it it wouldn’t work)
As you can probably already tell, my current state of mind is heavily concentrated.
I need a place to pour it out without any sieve diluting its…its…I dunno what it is, but till I figure it out, I wanna keep it the way it is!
I’ve decided.
This lil’platform I got here shall undergo a makeover…less personal blah more citizen journalistic material….
Thought it would be appropriate to end this era of my blog with the first topic I ever posted about: BlooD.
I’ve always thought theres a certain beauty about periods. Perhaps its because my first experience with the menstrual cycle was not a terrifying, omg-I think-I’m-dying-moment…I knew exactly what I was happening. Early sex education really is helpful you know, but it sure does take out the fun of the whole experience.
Well around the same time a year later, I still find periods beautiful. Still not pregnant either, but maybe that’s just because I just haven’t been having sex this time round.
^_^
Yeah, in that unpunctuated fashion too.
I guess that’s why we blog (those of us who fill our blogs with personal/fantasy content that is). Our blogs don’t give us the that WTF look, and aren’t inconvenienced by us in any way either! That’s partly the reason I think the service industry would be so much better if it was run entirely by robots. From the immigration and URA offices to Dominos pizzeria and supermarket stores. I mean no one really WaNtS to do those kind of jobs anyway, I mean if a dude didn’t have the option to do melancholy jobs like being a janitor, imagine what he would be doing? (well, that and if we lived in a society where we succeeded in life not on the connections and money we had but on merit, passion and hard work…) …in a parallel universe maybe.
If you can follow my train of thought here, and understand what I’m saying….drop me a comment. LoL
And no that’s not a cheap endorsement to get you to comment on my blog. (Its actually a clever jedi trick but if I explained it it wouldn’t work)
As you can probably already tell, my current state of mind is heavily concentrated.
I need a place to pour it out without any sieve diluting its…its…I dunno what it is, but till I figure it out, I wanna keep it the way it is!
I’ve decided.
This lil’platform I got here shall undergo a makeover…less personal blah more citizen journalistic material….
Thought it would be appropriate to end this era of my blog with the first topic I ever posted about: BlooD.
I’ve always thought theres a certain beauty about periods. Perhaps its because my first experience with the menstrual cycle was not a terrifying, omg-I think-I’m-dying-moment…I knew exactly what I was happening. Early sex education really is helpful you know, but it sure does take out the fun of the whole experience.
Well around the same time a year later, I still find periods beautiful. Still not pregnant either, but maybe that’s just because I just haven’t been having sex this time round.
^_^
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