Imaginations...

In another world I could be different people.

One would be a Bible totting, praise-singing preacher with a megaphone standing by your window and bellowing on you to accept Christ or burn in everlasting hell while picking her way through the condoms littered on the street.

Now that I mention it, I have actually done that before as a kid. It was called ‘Morning Cry’ back in my days. Everyone in my neighbourhood knew I was the ‘Morning Cry’ girl and boys stayed away because I was often armed with one Scripture Union leaflet or the other to start my preaching. Made my parents comfortable and lessened the pressure of having ‘the talk’.

The irony of this all was I liked reading as a kid so I read everything from Lady Bug books through Sweet Valley High series straight up to James Hardley Chase and the Complete Works of Shakespeare.  The day I went looking for more reading materials, I discovered Ikebe Super then I got hooked and henceforth rearranged my finances to include a weekly purchase of Ikebe Super, Hints, Hearts and Better Lovers. Safe to say I ‘backslided’ in the things of the Lord.

That brings me to who I could have been in another world. I could have been ‘Ona’ the goddess with the olive black skin holding a Burlesque performance in the showy Parlours of Vegas or New York. It’s so serious that I chose a name sef…

I could have also been ‘Angelique’ a sleek curvy multi-lingual Escort who is actually a government spy. She has her ways with men in authority and milks their secrets and their money while at it.

My imaginations will fill a 100-page book. I’ve got two more weeks of boredom. I should totally pen down my random thoughts on Christian Grey, Sex and BDSM.

From the Archives...

I wrote this on 26th June, 2010. I can't believe I don't drink anymore

It's Mental Health Month, the 'MAYbe it would get better' month. Corny huh? Anyway, I went searching for my archives. I was encouraged to write everything in my head back then while dealing with Depression. I probably won't write like this now though. I always loved ellipsis but never got got it right...lol

The Crazy Shoes of of a...Drunk Gal

Sometimes, I wanna jump up and down my bed with my dress flapping around me and not minding if people are in the room or if am as naked as daylight....

Sometimes I just want to sit, chuck in my thumb in my mouth and suck away like I have no cares in the world....

Sometimes, I just wanna be catered for, boss everyone around and scream when I don’t get what I want, cry so I can be consoled....

Sometimes, I just wanna play in the mud, on the sand...kick balls around with the boys and not caring if my outfit looks nice nor if my make-up will be ruined

I wanna wake up one day and not think of how to survive and just let the day play out...

I want to wake up one day to a world that thinks biscuits and chocolates are worth more than money.

I wanna wake up to a day where I'll still believe my dad and mum don’t poo!

I still wanna think lies make you grow a long nose....

Sometimes, I wanna be cradled....

Sometimes, I wanna wake up thinking Milo's the greatest of God's creations

Am still grateful that I get a chance to do all these...........of course when a gal's drunk, not only the thinking cap is on but them crazy shoes are worn

Nostalgia

My work tour has come to an end. I miss home no doubt. I am however a little bit sad leaving good old England and wish I had more time in Dubai.

I have learned a lot from my interactions with people over the weeks. I have also earned the art of speaking out.  Saying it as it is. I am not sure it works all the time though but it has a cleansing effect…lol.

It is going to be tough living outside Nigeria permanently because as I am typing this, I am thinking of Banga soup from Niger-Delta Kitchen, Ewa agoyin and ata din din from 805 in Wuse 2, Iya Oyo’s Amala, Ewedu with Ponmo, fish and Ogufe, Akpuruakpu mbam from my Mother’s kitchen (I should go spend a weekend with my mum by month end), Nkwobi from that nice Owerri joint near my house. Open grill roasted catfish and pepper sauce from 2^nd Avenue in Gwarinpa.

I miss my house, my bed, the heat, the lack of electricity and the dusty air. I’ll probably grab a bowl of bitterleaf soup from Niger-Delta Kitchen with Eba and a book to join the longest fuel queue I can find as soon as I get home. I hear it’s the new chill.

I miss my office, my colleagues, the banter, the smiles, the frowns and the claps of accomplishment. 

I miss Uju, my friends...family (That's what they are).

Home is where the heart is...I can stretch out naked, sit on the rug in full nudity, eat Eba with my hands while watching comedy on my laptop. 

I am heading home😊

Emotional...

One day I shall blog about me without the masks. I shall tell of my successes and my failures.

One day I shall let myself be frail, willing to be dragged, helped, lifted and comforted.

This is not the time…

There are things I cannot change in life but there are things I can salvage. My default mode to suffering is salvage, rescue and abort mission. I never respond well to subtle threats.

Make me outright threats or promises and make sure you damn well keep them. The cowardice of it all is annoying. Are you afraid I’ll take it serious or are you so fearful that you’re looking for an escape route in case I call you out on your threat? Like why do people hint things they know are wrong to say outright? Subtle threats get me upset. 

These days when I get upset my stomach heaves, there’s so much body ache and then I start breathing exercises…LOL! (I learnt that in exercise class)

I’m going back to walking. It’s the best way to burn anger and being horny. Having my shoes pound the pavement, counting every step and thinking back on things I could have done better or knives I should have pushed further before twisting for the kill or freaky opportunities missed & how I'll make love to myself if I was a man. Walking is my emotional saviour. I go through recent sex scenes & I fight with anyone I am upset with while walking. I imagine responses and by the time the trip is done, I am fine. My mum jokes that one-day I’ll get upset with the ground and she’ll see what I’ll walk on. If you see me walking & smiling or frowning, you can bet what I'm doing.

I’ve been too angry lately. I need sex. Mind-blowing-toe-curling-sex. Breathless freaky sex. Sex cures a lot of things for me. Almost everything except being broke…LOL!

Now imagine sex on 100-thread count cotton sheets with fluffy pillows somewhere in the Maldives or Bora Bora with someone waiting on me hand and foot and fresh spicy food…

…Bottom-line, I need sex.

TRAPPED...

Sometimes,

I wish I had the chance to start over.

I want a new life.

I hate the life I’m living.

I feel I’m living in a box, trapped and counting down to a disaster.

I am an expressive person but my passions die slowly every other day. I dream of a beautiful day, of cherries, of flowers and a smiling sun…

…Then I wake up and I’m still here.

I wish I had more to write, more to say but all I can think of is how much more time do I have till I implode?