MADNESS

Craziest week EVER.

Still making bad decisions, but fortunatley they cant bite me in the ass

Graduation on Saturday/Sunday.

On my way out (again) but I will come and update you on the madness that is.

Happiness isn't

If only we'd stop trying to be happy we could have a pretty good time. - Edith Wharton

Bipolar

He was extremely sweet over lunch. Which was hilarious because I was expecting him to grab my plate and throw it in my face just to keep it going with the recent manic-lunatic shit he pulled yesterday.

*shrug*

I saved the conversations, just in case I forget what kind of asshole he is. I'm not mad. I don't hate him, I just know we really aren't friends.

I really should invest in that body pillow.

Hmm.

Apparently, he's sorry. Lunch tomorrow.

Done.

Niggas and flies
I do despise
But the more I see niggas,
The more I like flies.

I'm done. You really are an asshole in every sense of the word.

IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU

LORD, I HATE DRAMA.

Stupid me went to go and do good samaritan and people started disrespecting a negro for no reason. Abi gini?

So its [ivy leagues excuse for crazy homecoming type event when football team sucks] and everyone is out and about.

We are all acting a fool when we run into this girl I know. Warm body spots her and decides he is in love. No biggie. Life is great.

Except SHE ISN'T FEELING HIM. End of story. Still no big deal right?

Nooooooo, your girl Tori, savior of the universe decides to help a sista out. So my girl B calls me aside to say she thinks Warm body is nice and all, but she is feeling my sweetheart, my honey bunches of oats, the one and only chivalrous male at [school].

YAAAAAY. My baby is about to get some play! (Not that I'm saying he doesn't get play, o. But he isn't a man-whore like the rest of them)

SCREEEEECH. Brakes. Warm body won't leave her side. So I decide to play good samaritan and I tell my sweetheart what the deal is, so he can move in, but apparently, its against the Man Code. His friend got there first and so he cannot holla till his friend, of his own volition, leaves the babe alone.

Ah well. Except STOOOPID Jamaica ( im tired of wasting endearments jo, lets call him jamaica) tells Mr. Nigeria wassup, and Mr. Nigeria decides to tell warm body to back off. Mr. Nigeria SOBER isn't the most tactful SOB in the world ( I love him anyway) but he's been drinking. I have no clue how he told ol boy, but warm body backs off, but gets all salty. Rejection is a bitch, what can I say.

Except he fucking goes to talk to his boy, the other Goo.nie and next thing I know the idiot is not speaking to me.

WTF?

No be you the girl reject ooo, na you boy, that is why when I'm addressing you and asking you if you can help me find my phone, you COMPLETELY IGNORE me when we are the only people in the room?

Its all good. Na me cause am. Because I dey follow you shine teeth like say na my teeth dey cause sunlight and sunset, that be why you think say you fit dey do me anyhow.

I'm not even mad at warmbody self for whatever he said. Hell, if na me self, I go think say the girl I'm messing with dey block. I would be sorely dissapointed sha, because he clearly doesn't understand the nature of our relationship. I am purely objectifying him. I don't like to sleep alone, so you are just a warm animate object beside me. I DON'T WANT YOU LIKE THAT. Just in case youre reading this, when she asked me about you I PUT IN A FUCKING GOOD WORD. *rollseyes*

Me sef, I suppose leave all this one behind. What is that new T.I. song that isnt even out that he performed at the concert today? "Big shit poppin, l'il shit stoppin". My brain don fry.

Popcorn and Headers

There are Very Few Times I Want a Man.

Tonight is one of them.

I would love for someone to have (actually, present tense, to) worry about me. I want someone to randomly show up in the lab with a cup of coffee and a sandwich for me. Or just now, when I was hiding tears of sheer frustration, I want someone to notice and hug me into silence and tell me its okay.

Instead I have stolen popcorn

How you Put Yourself out there is How you will be percieved

In summary: If you booty-IM (calling is soooo 2005) people, there is a good chance they will offer to pour liquor on you "like in big -pimpin" (which was quite possibly the most demeaning use of alcohol I've ever seen). Nothing spoil sha. I can't even be insulted. Na me cause am.

In other news, I'm going insane with work. I would like nothing other than to have someone wrap their arms around me while I grab my 3 hours of sleep a night, but apparently that person doesn't exist. Its fooling around or nothing. *smh*

I guess I'll take nothing.

Also, you have too many friends on facebook if you continually have "who the eff is that?" moments when people update pictures.

I miss U.go. Mostly because there are 800 million pictures of him on facebook having a blast without me. Hair appointment in the morning. Alleluia.

I wonder if warm body still reads this. I don't think I care. I want to get a little more explicit (by explicit I mean detailed, you filthy minds) but I have no clue how many people actually know me. I ain't trynna do a Ms.Annabella repeat.

Damn. I just put myself out there.

If I Should Die

please play this at my funeral

And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and ev'ry highway
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way

Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
and saw it through without exemption
I planned each charted course,
each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way

Yes, there were times,
I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
and did it my way

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
"Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way"

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels
and not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
and did it my way!

Waiting on the World to Change

Man is a credulous animal, and must believe something; in the absence of good grounds for belief, he will be satisfied with bad ones. - Bertrand Russell

If Sleep is the Cousin of Death

what does that make me?

I'm exhausted and I got the most sleep Ive had all week last night. I should go nap for an hour before I have to go to the NSBE thing at the Statler.

School is much more insane than usual.

I have loads more to say but I'm far too sleepy to type.

Be back. Lots of procrastinating to do this week.

You Always Want What You Haven't Got

So I'm walking home from class to get my cellphone that I forgot at home earlier today, when my mind went back to my ...umm... encounter over the weekend.

Its the perfect situation. We're cool. He doesn't call me to ask what I meant. I don't wander around thinking about what he said or what he did or whether or not he likes me or whether or not I stuck my foot in my mouth as usual and said something to make him hate me and all the other usual crap I obsess about when I'm in like or crush or whatever else I'm usually in.

That is exactly the problem. Im not in....anything. I'm totally emotionally detached. And it bothers me. All of a sudden I want to be that girl who obsesses....I just feel very....weird. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to go delude myself into believing that I want to have this mans babies or anything equally dumb, I'm just uncomfortable with how okay with this I am.
Or was.

I have no idea what I want. I know I don't want emotional entanglement. I'm too busy with work and life to be having stupid "we need to talk" conversations with anyone about "the state of the union".

But then, I'm shocked at how I don't feel remotely guilty. Outside of the daft smile I always wear the next day when I whine about how tired I am and the quick text message to Ineka, I could care less.

I can't organize my thoughts to make a proper post and explain what Im thinking.
Hell, this post probably isn't about what you think it is. I might be Freying. Or my brain might be on strike.

People are Assholes

And I hate this school.

Half the reason for this, of course, is that I left my cellphone at home so I have to go alllll the way home to get it and come allll the way back which will take me forever ( and, by forever, I mean 40 minutes) which is tres annoying. All this is, quite obviously, the schools fault.

In other news, people are still assholes and politicians are still corrupt.

Gossip

Amuses me. I like the idea of turning my life into a game of chinese whispers-let people make up stories and see how they come back to me. I found myself, today, asking a friend not to tell people a particular truth about me because it would negate a whole bunch of current rumors and that would be tres boring.

In other news, my primary school friend has dissapeared....haven't eard from her at all. As far as I know, she's alive. Maybe she saw the blog and got offended.

King of Sorrow

This Woman is the epitome of Sade's Song.

2007 Pulitzer Prize winner for photography.

I got accepted to Virginia Tech last year. Why do I feel guilty for being grateful I changed my mind about going there and came here?

Pregnant?

I can't focus.
I can't stop eating.
I'm sleeping like its about to be outlawed.
I can't focus.
I am winded every 5 footsteps.
I can't focus.

shit.



Oh, yeah, you need to have sex to get pregnant right? My bad. Disregard post.

Nothing to Say

I'll be around.

I Called

She didn't pick up.

Ah well.

Because I'm trying to perfect the art of overanalysis

Do you ever get the feeling that something simply wasn't meant to be? That you've put so much effort into something that ought to be easy, yet it is still is too hard to make it work

There is this friend I've had forever, I've known her since primary school. Of course, the older I get, the more my brain rewrites history ( as can be seen from my last post) and nothing seems to make sense ( I swear, I won't be surprised to find out tomorrow that we did not, in fact, go to the same primary school. Anywho, I digress [I love that phrase, but I digress yet again *wink*])We went to primary school together and we were essentially in the same circles ( I remember her a bit less than I remember Tope Om.ole, my then best friend who is (and, as I understand, has always been) her best friend (so I guess my mind doesn't deceive me when I say we were pretty damn cool in primary school) . Like 50% of the Nigerian populace, I skipped primary 6 ans went to secondary school, while all my buddies stayed and finished. As fate would have it, she ended up at my secondary school and, but you know how we naija's are, she was a year my junior, so no beef, but time and circumstance turned us into "hi/hello" friends. We went in such divergent directions that I only found out a year or 2 ago that she left at the end of ss1 ( I graduated 7 years ago).

Well, life happens and we wind up in the same state in college. We keep bumping into each other and swearing to call each other, but never get around to it. A couple years ago she cussed me out at one of out annual "bumpings" and and I guess we both decided to be real with it and call each other and hang out.

Fast forward another 3 years and I'm just exhausted. I love her and I'm sure she loves me too but phone tag is a bitch. She had some personal drama and and would randomly have her phone not accept calls (which drove me insane). I'd call and not be able to leave a message , but it would seem like I never called since her phone wouldn't take any calls anyway. Or there is her uncanny ability to call me when I can't talk (isn't it cute how I'm painting this to be all her fault??) . About once every 2 months, one of us gets hold of the other and starts an accusation or apology, then we try to catch up, but its so disjointed, so detail free because there is no continuous time we experience together for life to happen and for us to narrate to each other as it happens.

She sent me a facebook message the other day and I just hmmphed with annoyance and closed the page, then I thought about it. Hell, I hadn't made a huge effort either. So I hit reply and and said "glad you're alive". I was tempted to add "this is too hard. I promise I wont hate you if you stopped trying", but that would be a lie. I'd be hurt.

I thought friendship was supposed to be effortless. you think of difficult friendships and you think of those wrought with arguments. This is falling apart from neglect. And don't get me wrong, I think she is an amazing woman, that is why I've struggled for so long, but I have no clue what to do to make it easier. Maybe it will simplify itself when I graduate and our schedules become simpler. I should call her today.

But watch me get the message "at the subscribers request, this number is not taking any calls."

Eyes Wide Shut

I feel the need to preface this with a disclaimer, because, even to my eyes, it seems very "in love/like". It isn't. It is a slightly poetic description of a flawed friendship, complicated by something that happened that felt so nice that I'm having difficulty reminding myself that having this person as a friend is more important than "just one more time" that will probably eliminate any leftover shards of the easy (or was it?) camaraderie that once existed. The problem is that my head is slowly altering the memories so that I come to a point where I think "fuck it, we weren't really friends anyway, and in 5 weeks, I'll never see him again", or " I like you better when we're making out anyway". On the other hand , I truly think I miss him, but I'm wondering if all the whining about missing my buddy and mourning the loss of a great friendship is a figment of my imagination too. I might be creating false memories of a close connection to give myself and excuse to want to escape the awkwardness, when in reality, its just my hormones speaking.

Keeping my Eyes Closed
I don't know what I want.
I look at you and wonder
How did it feel so good?
Skinny lips, chipped tooth,
But when my eyes are closed
And I cant see who I'm with
I'm with you, with
a perfect mouth, perfect words
Laughter that makes me pause and absorb. The Timbre
of your voice that makes me exclaim out loud to myself how much
I like your voice. I open my eyes and you
make very little sense.
You say stupid things that make me wonder what I'm thinking. You call me "silly girl" and I feel like you ran your nails across a chalkboard.
You see my imperfections and I am ashamed. No, not ashamed, angry. Angry, not because I didn't know they were there. Angry because you see them and too tactless to ignore them.
My eyes are open and I am annoyed by you, for always having to dismiss me. Annoyed at your way of saynig the last word and running away before I can counter. Annoyed because you know I like to be the dismisser, and you have robbed me of my little selfish, childish joy.
Then I close my eyes again and you make me laugh over and over. You remind me of what being carefree was about. You make me giggle and blush with the unorthodox things about me that impress you because you are able to be impressed without using those condescending words. My eyes are closed as you sing my praises to everyone who will sit still long enough to listen. And while my eyes are closed, I enjoy you more. I enjoy your silliness, your random weirdnesses. While my eyes are closed, I revel in your youth, your dreams for who you want to be, your creativity, the ardor with which you want to fly.
And so I keep my eyes closed so I can blot out the pranks, the WTF moments, the I-want-to-punch-you moments, the moments I want to slap myself for allowing the "disrespect", the dismissals.

My eyes are open now, but I long to shut them again, so I can pretend the world only exists in darkened dormrooms with butterfly kisses that make you ask me what I'm looking at.