emotionless - okay i don't know what to say about that so. just read on.

My head is banging so hard I am sure my brains would split and leak out my ears.

Okay I wrote the above sentence simply because my life has been drama free for the past few weeks and I wanted a minor reminder of a dramatic life.

I don’t want the reminder. I feel so good. And bad. Life without drama has not been peaceful. It has just been… emotionless. I used to be hurt, angry, tearful, vengeful sometimes, happy, ecstatic, wild, and prayerful almost all at once. And the result led to chaos. A chaotic and complicated series of events.

Banging head thanks to shisha.

Raging mind thanks to Bio’s incomprehensible tests. Tests that I banged. Consecutively. Not that I don’t care. I just don’t understand.

A scarred plus scared heart. A heart scared to love again. For fear of being shut out and crushed in the blistering cold.

A broken heart. Okay I’m lying. I’m not heartbroken. My heart is just twisted. And confused. Baffled really. I expressed myself, got positive results and then got unfathomable results from the dude that I, the not so courageous Chiquita managed to blurt out occasional te quiero’s, or je t’adore’s. and my friend called me a “giver upper”. I give up easily, yes. But at least I tried for this. I gave it my all. But that’s that and nothing can change this. And no I’m not giving up on lost like. (daman it was never love from both sides) I am facing reality.

Let’s see what happened.

I lived, I laughed, I kinected with good friends, I snuggled in kilishi with someone whose name, presence and memory ‘s engraved in me in gold and blue. I know why it’s blue (favourite color) gold, I dnno why. I clubbed till like 6 a.m. heck I danced all night long I needed to get pulled out of the floor. I aced my tests without having to jack like crazy. (ok it’s cmd 100, ba laifi)

I watched inspirational movies, fantasized, windecked to windeck, wept at save me, made hoops with hookah, smiled at private entertainer, traveled, peed in the middle of nowhere (haha gombe en route adamawa) swam to the deep side of the pool (and made it back alive and), flirted, gazed into those eyes, prayed devotedly, guilt tripped myself, made new friends, walked to the AUn gate twice in one night – Camby, Mcube we should do that again!, woke up at six … to work out! Binged on five chocolate cakes in three months… and counting!  I lived, really.

I did more things, but honestly speaking I’m as emotionless as an ex bipolar girl could be. I can NOT feel. And when I do feel, I can’t even express myself.

All I know now is I am sick. I’ve got malaria. And I managed to get two injections. One in each butt cheek. Yes, my bottom is swollen up and I am in pain. (I dislike drugs, you would prescribe them to me but I wouldn’t swallow them to save my life.) my eyes hurt. Dunno why but it sucks. But on the upside I don’t have bags under my tiny eyes so yayyy, I’m happy about that.

I watch southpark. A lot. I love the cartoon. It has almost the same effect as a beats by dre headphone. My problems fly away and I just need to concentrate on fantasy, rather than reality.

Expressionless, I rest this post’s case as it is because I truly canNOT contribute to anything further. Plus I told my newest friend I’d blog so here it is, Camby :P 

small gallie

sometimes,
you just have to grow up and solve your own problems. you can vent all you want to your friends, and they will have their shoulders all opened up for you to weep on. but then manning up is left to you. or in this case, womaning up.
avoid anything that won't turn that frown upside down, and cheer up.
you know what, imma do it like a dooooooddde (dude) or once again, like a doooodette !!

 sonrie chica!

Put some beats in it.

i feel. overwhelmed. *inhale* *exhale* *inhale* *exhale* (kush song... hehe, love the video.)
but no on a serious note. i'm very very overwhelmed.

and the crowd went OOOOHHHHH .

Sex makes the crowd go wild.

Sex sells. We know. For the fact that someone from a conservative family knows that, everyone else knows it too. I think it is shameful and pathetic.

Last night, there was a Wizkid “concert” at the community hall. A bunch o people went. Maybe a bout fifty people were present a hundred?. Arriving fashionably late, and even later than that to an extent paid off after all. The show was a waste of time and effort. Aun students were running the show. Whizkid was nowhere to be found, only his musical yet premature voice reverberated round the more than loud booming speakers in the hall. Students with talent, that is. Performers performed, singers sang, dancers danced and fashion designers walked the runway with lit lighters above their artificial hair. Where’s the irony in that, you ask me?

The dancing part was the one that got to me. I enjoyed it, personally. I enjoy watching people flop their routine, go a bit off point, or coordinate their disco ordination so perfectly your jaws cannot help but fall off. Literally. Just kidding.

The horrible dancing is not why I am writing this. As a self conceited writer, writing this is important. So I shall diverge no more. There this Chiquita was, dancing around like some short Ciara. She even “whined” like the professional singer/ dancer. So the normal breaking started and people were all “yeah”, hands clapping. Then her waists started working. Twist twist, shake it to the left, shake it to the right and “if you wind for me, kas…” her body stopped functioning but her waist, hips and bum. And the crowd went “ROOOAARRRRR, YEAAAAAAA, AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”” my ears might have fallen off. But I suppose I would not have felt it because they were numb with all that noise and cold AC blowing at them poor softies.

Okay. Guys are fuckers. They go nuts for these things. But then the girls too? I think maybe the next survey making courses (cc CMD !!) should take an interest on the level of lisbianity. Lesbianism? on campus.

Then whizkid (FINALLY) came. Urgh.  Rephrase. Then whizkid “FINALLY” appeared. And the corwd went yeaaaa, then he stood up in front of this mami and also did his dude version of winding. YEAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, maybe some girls died. For some ordinary Nigerian who made you pay 3 – 10 grand for a fifteen minute show. A show that started late. A show that was supposed to be hours long of whizkid but ended up to be fifteen minutes of his short scrawny self (I do not stereotype, I do not judge, but I dislike short celebs. Sorry it’s this thing in my head. if you’re successful, be tall mana. But then hey, it’s the genes.). Fifteen minutes of him stressing the obvious fact that he lacked a daily supplement of tom tom or lemon plus: his voice went off point quite a lot of times. I suppose we could excuse him for being fashionably late, or even more than that because that’s what he did. I suppose we could forgive him for making us wait for an end result of fifteen minutes of him running round the hall, and also for deafening us with a croaky yet childish voice (how did he do that shit?). but he is a nice singer. I do love his song tease me, and I occasionally shake my dead to don’t dull. I do praise him for not lip syncing, like all the other pathetic singers do during “concerts” I do appreciate his picture taking wiv fans at the clubhouse. Oh well. Twas another normal night. Fun funny, then boring, and tiring. 

OOH THE TERROR... "I"m... cringing like i'm about to get a seizure."

I have been scarred forever. My sense of sight, touch, sound and taste have been damaged. They didn’t deteriorate, they’ve just seized working, possibly for good. At the expense of what… Experience? Boredom? Why am I even in school? I should just drop out and die. For all anyone cares. Okay a lot of people would care. But why did I do that? I not only will get a seizure right now. I’ll just cut myself up just like in all those disturbing scenes from black swan. And this room is cold. Brr. Goosebumps. In all the wrong areas.  Oh yes, I NEED A DOCTOR.  February was a disastrous month.

Cc @iodised_moi_moi and @megaphile_pedophile 

Her- I need hair pins!... Me- I need Grizzly Bear.

It is so weird how I got betrayed by two of the four men I love the most. On the same day. This is not the first time it is happening to me. This is, in fact, the second. Sometimes I ask myself why I blog about these things. Sometimes I think if I need to vent, I can do it indirectly. Directly, via a diary. But the consequences have been experienced. ‘So your diary entry on so so day was so funny. Didn’t think you were pissed about that…’ yes, embarrassing much? So I’m thinking, why give people permission to read it. It’s not like it’s private. Okay no. It is private. But I just don’t like holding these things to myself. I’ll just self destruct. So read my pain, and suffer it! You opened the page, you decided to peruse this. So SUFFER AT YOUR OWN WILL.

Anyway. I do not like lying. I am honest. I have been raised like that. That is one quality of mine that I shall never lose. I lie, of course. I’m human. But not big lies. Honesty… That is one thing I know I cannot ever change. And I am proud. Believe you me. You raised me to be honest. But for you to use that quality of mine to hurt me…, that does not really say good about you. My hand smells like chicken. BRB.

Ahh. Fresh much. Yes, I’m keen like that.

Adamant. Yes, when you said that my anger for you got devoured. Could you please speak to me forever?

ANYWAY.

I told you the truth, and now you are going to use it against me. For all I’ve learned now I should just start lying to you. If that is what you want, fine. Leadership by example.

I have cried for you three times in just four days. Pourquoi moi? Porque tenias que ser irrestableh!

Cigarettes are for nervous people, ... Hookah is for the Sensually Apt

"Cigarettes are for nervous people, competitive people, people on the run [�] When you smoke a narghile, you have time to think. It teaches you patience and tolerance, and gives you an appreciation of good company. Narghile smokers have a much more balanced approach to life than cigarette smokers." (Ismet Ertep, 71 years Turkey)

I got a hold of that sentence when I googled up the history of hookah. I was so sure it was invented in the Middle East. However, because of my trust issues, I still googled it up: hookah is made in India. MY India. J

I am not saying shisha is the love of my life. Frankly smoking gives me headaches. But in the end, it still calms me down. When I take hekka, I have this feeling that all my problems float away along with the smoke. Shisha is beautiful. It is an artistic way of expressing oneself. Faster way to die, so the rumors have it, but it still counts as beauty to me. I love taking it with my legs crossed, on the floor. That gives my spine the chance to be upright cause when I cross my legs my back is straight. I close my eyes when I take it; I close my eyes at sensual things. The only hard part: trust me this is not hard, I like to think it is; is the inhaling part. I like blowing out loads of smoke, so I have to inhale a lot. I am still not good at making visible shapes like rings ad stuff, but I am very good at getting my face covered up. Hehe. Basic. Basic is the best. Sometimes.

I simply cannot even describe how shisha makes me feel. All I can say is that it is the newest artistic thing in my life. I know I should stop taking it. Frankly I barely ever take it. But when I do take it, I just can’t get enough of it…

I want shisha to be a part of my life. Shisha music and horses…