Tuesday, August 25, 2009

It's 1:24am and no stratagem to kick off this weeks post but from my daily sermon, I preach to myself; You will not get anything done unless you get off your butt. I definitely had decided one of my many unending stories to tell you but my left rotator cuff will not let me do it and now I can't remember which of the stories I had decided on, except try to figure out how I hurt myself.

Well, it's not just my shoulder injured but my memory too. I can blame it on being busy, God knows with what. Anyways, take good care of yourselves my friends because we get so busy and forget the little things that keep us fit and healthy, like a hearty healthy breakfast, a very good night rest. Oh I feel like indulging. I'll set an example now, go to sleep and I'll tell you all about it here in a few. Later my friends.

Sunday, August 9, 2009

I heard of a story where a father asked his children what they wanted to be when they grew up, one of the them wanted to be a bus conductor because they always have a lot of money in their hands (ofcoarse not in some countries where money is deposited in a machine or passengers carry prepaid cards and passes), another wanted to be a house maid because she believed that they get to eat all the food they want since they fix the meals. I guess I had a better choice. Around my teen years I thought it would be cool to be a receptionist because they looked very nice wearing their smiles , many of those I envied were always in heels and every sound they made with a step shouted confidence, they sat in rotating chairs with wheels and swung in them with skill. Oh I envied them. In my small head, beautiful, exciting, fun, awesome, anything good about a job equaled a receptionist. The center of attraction, I thought they knew everyone and everyone knew them because they greeted everybody in a familiar way. Hmm, at some point in life I became one and I could write a book about being a receptionist if I knew how but I’ll spare you the whole drama and tell you a glimpse of it. This is a drop in the ocean.
Thank you for calling …..Medical center, this is T, how may I help you? 100 times a day and the answers were pretty much the same. This one time it was a young man and he wanted an appointment. Another client had cancelled so I asked him to come in a couple hours later. Nothing like the celebrity in my previous post, but he was good looking, about 6’1 with a great physic, in a dressy blue shirt, tacked in nicely and he looked very responsible, I could score him at 99%, I think I told myself that the days of petitioning God for his will were over and I needed to start thanking him for the creation standing right in front of me, because it fit so well. Long story short, several months later he asked me to dinner at his house with his other friends and I said amen, let it be. I appeared at my best. When I got to the address, I was a little confused because it didn’t at all look like a neighborhood he would be living in. I double checked and sure enough it was. I entered the house, it looked alright inside and a dozen of eyes welcomed in. At this point I had reduced my score to 65%. Everything was going on well until the last guests appeared, I had excused myself to the bathroom and I can’t tell how it started but when I returned, my good looking young man was on top of his guest punching him so hard, a lot of curse words in the air and when he finally let go of him, the guest asked my host how his new nigger girlfriend would think of what he’d just done. Everyone was silent.I don’t know what disappointed me most, being called a nigger, my “perfect” violent young man, being a receptionist or Skipping swimming to watch a fight? I don't know which one but I know his score dropped to 0%. And being a receptionist, isn't as fancy as I thought.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

My mind is like a sea of thoughts, I couldn't wait till morning to share my long awaited oppurtunity that finally knocked on my door. Why I have to waste my precious sleep amusing myself writing to the annonymous, I can't comprehend but it's sure better than lying on my supine , turning lateral, prone, supine again itching to tell any ear that cares to listen. Ok, I won't waste any more of your time, I'm so itching to tell.
It's finally end of school year and even if I was sad to leave my friends that I had tried so hard to make, I was also excited to have free time to do fun things like watching as many movies as I could get my hands on. For all the years I've watched movies, it was not until recently that I could tell Beyonce from Jennifer Lopez, so it was not unusual that I didn't recognise this rare, wonderfully and fearfully made actor that appeared in a couple of them that I watched. A very fine man I must say and a good actor too. Preety soon I was watching his movies everyday. I spread the gospel of this cute guy to all my girlfriends.
I silently fantasised meeting him in person. Just like ever meeting Barak. Can you imagine entering a room and meeting with Barak? I wonder what I would do. Well, I finally met this fair skin , muscular, tall , neat actor , I was stuck to my chair. My chin dropped, my mouth gaped, and my extremities were cyanosed and numb. I couldn't feel a thing, I frooze. He was on the phone all this while, my guess is , it must have been good news because his smile lit up the whole space as he walked towards me. I jumped up from my seat like there were pins and needles and wondering what to do next, he saved me the trouble and stretched out his hand . I was thrilled, excited , overjoyed, name it and I walked closer for a hand shake and damn it, my alarm clock went off. I was dreaming.
My passion to get things done always drives me like automatons , but passion alone wasn't helping in getting this post started. I finally had to burst my bubble, I'm not a writer but what a heck? I don't have to be a professional writer to tell a story, do I?
It was a very hot Thursday evening as I rushed out of the lecture room after a long boring class of Ethnomusicology, all I wished for was a very rich man friend with a car to be waiting outside my class to chauffeur me home, or better yet to a beach somewhere with the cool breeze. Well, I already had a boyfriend and the old school me was not about to hook myself another. I jumped on the next "boda boda" (a motorcycle for hire) to my boyfriend's house. As most of the men in this part of the world, he was waiting for me to fix dinner for his several visitors from Europe. At this point of my life I did not only suck at writing but also at cooking, but heh, I could die for this guy so I always gave my best to anything for him. I'm a natural multi tasker, at least that's what I thought, so I peeled the plantain put it to boil, set another pan of stew on the stove and since we had only two burners, I put the pan with rice on the charcoal stove and run to the dinning room and set the table. You know , with the glasses on the right side and silver to the left like I'd always seen in the fancy restaurants. I went back to the kitchen, started dishing out the stew and my boyfriend stormed in and started complaining of how I'd put the forks on the wrong side , I apologised, of coarse with a grin , I was already bursting myself. I opened the pan of rice and hmm, it was so soggy , you would think it was porridge. I threw it in the trash can and run to the restaurant across the street and bought cooked rice, what I should have done from the start. I took it straight to the table. I took the water jar next and had the platter of plantain in my hands when my dear boyfriend forcefully spat on the floor. My hands let go and the plantain was on the floor. All I had left to serve was the bought rice and the water. The stew had too much salt and this time not my fault because I don't eat meat so I couldn't test the stew. What an excuse? Well , he dumped me one year later. I don't know why he did though. If it was the cooking, he missed my awesome cooking that has improved over the years.