Maybe.

I want to say I feel better, but I think every time I say that something happens. :P

I'm good. Enjoying the company of friends who are checking in a little more often than usual and fronting like they actually want to talk to my boring ass.

Work is hella busy and I'm working on interesting stuff so it's been a blessing. My friends have been kind enough to not leave me alone and drag me around with them, so I think I only feel sad when Pandora or my iPod conspire to remind me that even though love is hard, perseverance exists and you can choose to stick it through and make it work and thats what makes it extra special.

One of my loves gave me something to think about. I think the hardest part for me has been the thought that I had found someone that I was ridiculously compatible with, and in all honesty, I had never met anyone who fit me as well in all my twenty-six years of being and I realize that there are no guarantees that I ever will again. So it hurt that he felt the same way, but was willing to take that chance out of sheer laziness. Also, I know what I want out of a relationship now and, I wont lie, I'm a little scared that I wont ever find someone who finds all my annoyingnesses amusing and loves my uncuteness and finds my knowitallness refreshing.

(Still waiting for what my friend gave me to think about? lol) Aaaaaaanyhooo, I was talking with my friend about this and she said maybe he felt that way about my (perceived) imperfections because he loved me. Not that he loved me because of them. I had to take like 3 days to think about that one.

And maybe she's right.

Maybe someone will fall in love with all the fun energetic life-is-beautiful-first-thing-in-the-morning, ridiculous-amounts-of-useless-information, i'll-try-most-things-once and everything-can-be-laughed-at of me, and because of that still love the I-wear-my-own-hair-and-makeup-is-a-chore-and-my-lips-stay-chapped-ness of me with my i-have-to-have-the-last-word-and-i-am-absolutely-always-right and maybe even not commit suicide at how I have yet to meet my match at stubbornness. And maybe even not care that I don't cook*.

Maybe. :)

*Yes, sharrap, I still maintain that I don't cook. Even if it does seem like every time you call me I'm cooking something new, I am not advertising that, because months hit that I retire from the kitchen.

I don't think I've felt this alone since 9/11.

This too shall pass. It just needs to hurry the fuck up.

I have no idea what to say. I have plenty to say but I just really don't want to say it.

Someone said I look stunning today and it made me sad.

I guess asking for eternal happiness is too much. All our mothers lied to us, because their mothers lied to them. It's all a giant scam being perpetrated over and over again.

Bleh.

In my dreams...

...it really was simpler. *sigh*

My old buddy is back. Hi Soul. I've missed you.

Life is good. I really do want to chop off all my hair.

What the frig is a break? I understand not. Can someone honestly explain to me what they are? In my head "we need a break" = "I want to have sex with someone else, guilt-free". I'm told I'm wrong. I'm yet to get an satisfying explanation.

So things haven't been perfect of recent. I can sense us both mentally checking out. Which would be fine if I wasn't me and so hellbent on ripping off band-aids, even when they aren't necessarily falling off.

I had more to say but exhaustion hit. I'll try again later.

So I bit the bullet

and paid off my car today.

I feel like a weight is off my shoulders.

Now to up my 401 witholding.

The Thickeness..

So all week I've been listening to Robin Thicke ([sarcasm]shocking huh?[/sarcasm]) and I can't help but think how much he must love his wife. I try to remind myself that when people write, it isn't necessarily a reflection of how they feel. Things are inspired by things we see, things we hear about and don't jave to have anything at all to do with what is going on in our lives.

I still can't shake that "Lucky woman to be loved this much" feeling.

Love breaks.

And somehow, every time it happens, we're shocked.

You sit there and you think, this is just a rough patch, we love each other, so obviously its going to work out. Then you remember that conversation with your friend where she told you on the phone tearfully, "I just *knew* I'd found my own. I was settled. Done. And then it fell apart." And you realize that now, 3 years later, it didn't magically fix itself. They were perfect for each other (even in their own eyes), yet they aren't together. So you pause on those drastic measures you had in your head of just leaving him with nothing but a note, as the realization dawns that the thought of him tracking you down and standing out in the rain telling you how you complete him might actually happen, but probably won't end with the kiss that says and forgives and erases everything.

And so you watch it break and you can't do a thing about it, and you're pissed off that, as usual, John Mayer put it perfectly. Slow dancing in a burning room. And then you wonder, wouldn't we all just be FINE in love and not make dumb mistakes if we just took a class on "Continuum"?

Happy Valentines week, y'all.

The Independent Woman ... sorta.

Inspired by Mgbeks.

So I am an independent woman. Sort of. No I didn't have a job till I had been here a year and daddy definitely paid my rent for the first two years, but tuition was paid by my grades. After that, I managed to get a full scholarship that paid room and board also, and a nice cushy campus job for shopping money. Independent-ish, no?

Anyhoo, 5 years post grad (jay-soo, how times flies), I'm definitely on that "car and a crib [err, no crib. Apartment, thank you very much], she bout to pay em both off, and her bills are paid on time" ish. No help from Daddy. In fact, when I went to Naija self, my father quietly reminded him that I owed him $400 for the local flights he helped me book for my trips while I was at home. Omo, the recession was tough on retirees too.

Trust me, I agree with Mgbeks. Bill paying is NOT fun. Every other day, I look at my bills and wonder why I'm not an I-Banker. Just yesterdayI looked at my credit card bills, and after I paid off all my credit cards last month , balance is back up to $3k. All expenses incurred in a week and a half (wisdom tooth extractions plus car wahala = gbese).

So why then did I, as I got out of my nearly paid off car and walked into my office that provided me the freedom to be "fly effortlessly", pray to God that I want to be able to go out clubbing with the girls and BUY MY OWN BOTTLES without worrying about rent or my down-payment savings?

And it has to be before I marry, and before I'm wearing some mans ring. Because I don't want anyone to so much as hint at the money coming from some dude. Everytime I hear "I got Money to Blow" by Young Money I remind God that I NEED to be rich someday soon, while I'm young. There is no sexier image in my head than me in Tribeca or some club, sitting at an all girls table, everyone with a champagne glass and bottles just making their way over. All the dudes looking and wondering "ah ah! who are those babes now?" End of the night, I just hand the bartender my Amex from my well manicured hand without even bothering to look at the "damages".

....Then, some young strapping man can wife me and make me a trophy for all eternity. Amen.

Save Seun Adebiyi!

I ran into this article online today about 26 year old Seun Adebiyi, born in Lagos, moved here when he was 6 and is a Yale Law grad who is trying to be the FIRST EVER Nigerian Winter Olympian.

Except he was diagnosed with cancer.

Leukemia.

He's been through weeks and weeks of chemotherapy, but his doctors say his only chance for survival is a bone marrow transplant.

Sadly, only 8% of bone marrow list registrants are of African descent/African American. And for a match, the person needs to be practically IDENTICAL to you. So his chances of finding a match will be upped dramatically if there are more Nigerians on the list.

I got on the list last year, because a friend was pushing a drive for another friend of hers, a Yale Med student who is biracial (imagine how small HER numbers are) . She passed away last August.

The process is really simple. You go on the website (in this case, for a free kit go to www.dkmsamericas.org) direct link to sign up page is https://www.dkmsamericas.org/bone-marrow-donors/become-marrow-donor

Fill out the questionnaire and they will mail you a kit. All you have to do is use the Qtips to take cheek swabs and mail it back in in the pre-paid envelope.

IF (and this is a huge if) you are selected to be a donor, you go in, do some additional testing, and they use a syringe to take some marrow out of your pelvis (not much tougher than giving blood) and thats it.

I have posted a link to Seun's HuffPo article here

and his blog is at http://nigeria2014.wordpress.com/

Help save this guys life.

Please pass on this information. Even if you are not a match for Seun, you may be able to save someone else's life by signing up.

She watched it die slowly.

Is happiness simply a matter of telling yourself to "be happy"? Is it internal and a choice, and not (solely) a result of external stimulus?

There is a thin line between really unhappy and being depressed, and it's incredibly hard to determine what side of the line you're on after a while.