Due to popular demand, I have decided to come back. Okay so I am stretching the public demand bit. Only Cheri wanted me back, but I am here anyway. I have been away because I was dealing with emotional trauma.
Last week Sunday
Lawn mower guy comes home pops his machine to life and before long, grass blades are meeting their demise. Nice enough. We do not have to live in constant danger of being bitten by snakes. Not so nice is that the noise from his outdated lawn mower has just interrupted my Sunday afternoon TV routine. Yes. On Sundays, I watch TV like it is going out of fashion. So I fought with my conscience about shouting at the guy about the possibility of muting his damn thing. Reason won. I figured, he couldn’t possibly know that the machine was making noise. You see, lawn mower guy is deaf. Besides, I have the plight of the physically disabled persons at heart.
Sometime last month
This genius idea came to me. It was so brilliant I sat back and hugged myself right after it had occurred to me. So I thought I would contribute to family welfare by increasing food production. I sorted through the onions at home and came up with perfect candidates for planting. Five of them were quickly lowered into the earth and I sat back and waited for harvest time. Everyday I checked on the onions, pruned, weeded and caressed. They were the best looking onions I had ever seen. They were so hot in fact, I could not wait to see how favorably they would compete with the boiling cooking oil once they had been harvested. In short, I was proud of these onions and even more proud of my handiwork. They were germinating well and I was pleased
Last week Sunday
In the evening, I went for my daily routine of checking on my onion garden. There were none. They had been leveled to the ground! They were the level of the freshly mowed grass. I knew immediately who had done it. I had let him off the hook earlier about the noise because he was deaf, but what excuse did he have now? Clearly his sight was excellent otherwise he would not have gone into the grass cutting business! How could he have not seen those onions? How could he have missed them standing there in their glorious splendor? How could he have mangled my babies so? So anyway, I am sorry, but I am going to have to shout at a handicapped person. So all this time when I have been away, I was composing a hate speech
Update
My onions once proud and glorious now sit in withering cowardice. The once healthy well fed glorious healthy looking leaves have become all skinny as they attempt to grow back. I miss my healthy babies
Fact
Yes I planted onions in a grass compound!
Showing posts with label things that hurt so bad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label things that hurt so bad. Show all posts
the date...
...well, i had gone all out on this one. I knew he was a tall bloke so i had pulled a pair of heels out the back of my closet. or out of a box somewhere. So anyway, feeling tall, stomach safely tucked in, all dolled up, I waked over towards where he was seated. I must have not seen the waiter standing in the way, becuase the next thing i know,i had knocked the tray out of his hand and I was falling, falling, falling...
The next time I looked up, my date was gone...
The next time I looked up, my date was gone...
What have I become?
Yesterday I witnessed an accident. It was fatal. That was not the shocker. Infact there was nothing shocking about it all until much later as I lay in my bed pondering the day’s events. I remembered what the cup (giant size) of coffee I’d had that morning had tasted like. How I’d almost gotten up from my desk to add a little bit more sugar, but how I’d gotten lazy and decided to have it bitter. How I’d gotten to the end and realized I had forgotten to stir the coffee and the sugar had settled at the bottom of the cup.
I thought how happy I had been when my friend had walked in the office, and how in just a few moments we had gone from being friends for ever to having one of those thoughtless fights that only people who cared about each other had. How I had snatched the movies that she had just taken out of my bag back to spite her. And even then, I thought about how it was not all my fault.
I fast-forwarded to the end of the day when I had met this guy and we had laughed and joked and teased and got happy. I remembered walking out of his office with him to take a stroll along Kampala road towards the park, still teasing, laughing and having a grand old time. I remembered when we saw it. A man lying in the street, motionless, blood oozing from his head, his walking stick, that he had all his life laboriously used to get from one place to another a few meters away, out of his reach even if he could stretch his arms and grab it. He looked dead. The car that had hit him, not in sight.
I remember feeling no emotion. Not anger, not pity, not compassion, empathy, fear, or even happiness. There was nothing in my heart. I remember people gathering around, trying not to miss out on the scandal. Some even prodding and tossing him sideways to see whether he was still breathing. He was, but barely and in a few minutes, it would not be for long. None of them doing much else to help him. Me, rushing the few meters left to join these people, all the while still teasing, joking and smiling about life. A life that this man no longer had. A crowd had gathered, I could no longer get a clear view.
I reach under the pillow and retrieve a handkerchief to blow my nose, now coming back to and realizing that my nose has been running unchecked from the cold that has plagued me for days now. I wipe the snot in a trance and my mind wanders back to the day’s events.
I remember inching closer, trying to make my way through the crowd, reaching for my phone- no, not to call the police, or for an ambulance or ask for any kind of help. I am reaching for my phone and trying to get a strategic place where I could get a clear picture. All the while this guy and I joking about whether my phone had good enough zoom for me to take the picture from wherever I was standing. I remember being frustrated that motorists had ignored the incidence and kept going by and yet I wanted to take a picture. I remember putting my phone back in the pocked and walking away unfazed, just disappointed that I had not gotten the story. Especially the picture to tell it all. So I walked on, him, and me still joking, teasing and laughing. We went to the post office, laughed at a funny postcard, took pictures of it before mailing it and walked on still laughing, our jokes endless.
I remember bidding him farewell, getting in a taxi, getting home, and eventually to where I was then. Warm in the comfort of my bed, a dead man already forgotten. But not for long. Somehow he had come to bed with me. Forcing me to think about him. To think about why I had not felt anything for him. Why I had stood there and not tried to help. Forcing me to examine who I had become, why I had become this way. A cold, heartless, cynical bitch.
I threw back the covers and reached for the mirror that sat on my dresser. I stared long and hard and did not like what was looking back at me. Blank emotionless eyes looked back, mouth set in a stubborn resolve as if to say, “don’t you dare judge me.” I quickly drew the mirror back. I could not take the disgrace of looking at myself anymore. That is when I knelt down and prayed. For someone, anyone that was listening to make me better. I did not want to be that person anymore. I was tired of this whole tough girl act I’d been putting up. Then the tears began to fall. And for the first time in a long while, I felt like a person. It felt good.
I thought how happy I had been when my friend had walked in the office, and how in just a few moments we had gone from being friends for ever to having one of those thoughtless fights that only people who cared about each other had. How I had snatched the movies that she had just taken out of my bag back to spite her. And even then, I thought about how it was not all my fault.
I fast-forwarded to the end of the day when I had met this guy and we had laughed and joked and teased and got happy. I remembered walking out of his office with him to take a stroll along Kampala road towards the park, still teasing, laughing and having a grand old time. I remembered when we saw it. A man lying in the street, motionless, blood oozing from his head, his walking stick, that he had all his life laboriously used to get from one place to another a few meters away, out of his reach even if he could stretch his arms and grab it. He looked dead. The car that had hit him, not in sight.
I remember feeling no emotion. Not anger, not pity, not compassion, empathy, fear, or even happiness. There was nothing in my heart. I remember people gathering around, trying not to miss out on the scandal. Some even prodding and tossing him sideways to see whether he was still breathing. He was, but barely and in a few minutes, it would not be for long. None of them doing much else to help him. Me, rushing the few meters left to join these people, all the while still teasing, joking and smiling about life. A life that this man no longer had. A crowd had gathered, I could no longer get a clear view.
I reach under the pillow and retrieve a handkerchief to blow my nose, now coming back to and realizing that my nose has been running unchecked from the cold that has plagued me for days now. I wipe the snot in a trance and my mind wanders back to the day’s events.
I remember inching closer, trying to make my way through the crowd, reaching for my phone- no, not to call the police, or for an ambulance or ask for any kind of help. I am reaching for my phone and trying to get a strategic place where I could get a clear picture. All the while this guy and I joking about whether my phone had good enough zoom for me to take the picture from wherever I was standing. I remember being frustrated that motorists had ignored the incidence and kept going by and yet I wanted to take a picture. I remember putting my phone back in the pocked and walking away unfazed, just disappointed that I had not gotten the story. Especially the picture to tell it all. So I walked on, him, and me still joking, teasing and laughing. We went to the post office, laughed at a funny postcard, took pictures of it before mailing it and walked on still laughing, our jokes endless.
I remember bidding him farewell, getting in a taxi, getting home, and eventually to where I was then. Warm in the comfort of my bed, a dead man already forgotten. But not for long. Somehow he had come to bed with me. Forcing me to think about him. To think about why I had not felt anything for him. Why I had stood there and not tried to help. Forcing me to examine who I had become, why I had become this way. A cold, heartless, cynical bitch.
I threw back the covers and reached for the mirror that sat on my dresser. I stared long and hard and did not like what was looking back at me. Blank emotionless eyes looked back, mouth set in a stubborn resolve as if to say, “don’t you dare judge me.” I quickly drew the mirror back. I could not take the disgrace of looking at myself anymore. That is when I knelt down and prayed. For someone, anyone that was listening to make me better. I did not want to be that person anymore. I was tired of this whole tough girl act I’d been putting up. Then the tears began to fall. And for the first time in a long while, I felt like a person. It felt good.
when loyalty saved the day
It didnt. It didnt come running with arms wide open, to thank me for a job well done. And it was. instead it looked me in the eye and told me i had not given my all. That i needed to put in more time. To invest some more in it, loyalty. to give and give and give. And if i had no more to give, loyalty said, it could easily find another sycophant. Yes, jack was going to find another jill to go up the hill with.
Loyalty had left me for dead. I turned one cheek and it asked me to turn the other. Yes,the day i waited for loyalty to put food on my table, i went hungry. To put clothes on my back, i went topless. To put shoes on my feet, i got blisters. Loyalty didnt have cash. It didnt have food stamps, Didnt have any old clothes to give, no crumbs fell from its table. It had promises. And i was getting weary. Screw loyalty. I want to live.
Loyalty had left me for dead. I turned one cheek and it asked me to turn the other. Yes,the day i waited for loyalty to put food on my table, i went hungry. To put clothes on my back, i went topless. To put shoes on my feet, i got blisters. Loyalty didnt have cash. It didnt have food stamps, Didnt have any old clothes to give, no crumbs fell from its table. It had promises. And i was getting weary. Screw loyalty. I want to live.
AIDS is real
so there was a heavy downpour the day K-CI and jojo were supposed to perform, so they have not performed yet. i hear they are performing today. i say they should just pack up they bags and go home. just to save them the embarassment of getting on stage and there are no revellers, coz lets face it, they are way past their sale-by date. plus, they had like what two hits? or was it one? anyway, so they are going to perform tonite on a wednesday, just before the end of the month... i am telling you i have bad vibes about this show.
i did head this post AIDS is real so i guess i owe y'all an explanation. yesterday, a work mate came with this wild(what i thought at first)tale about having seen a list of people living with HIV in this town. i hear she got it from a very reliable source bla bla bla. anyway, some of the names on that list were all too farmiliar-not because i have slept with any of those people- but because some of those people have slept with peope i have been very close to. this revelation shook me so bad i rushe to the loos to get sick. turns out, this very pretty 20 something hot babe, got enticed by this night club mogul(married), who got her a house, furnished it, gives her an enormous monthly allowance, but also gave the HIV(for good measure?). i know this gal.
anyway, why it hit home so much is because she is so hot, every guy i knew wanted to go to bed with her. so imagine the average guy dates her, goes to bed with her, things dont work out, average guy meets average girl(me?), she goes to bed with him...you see the cycle? that right there is what got me shook pretty bad.
anyway, later in the afternoon i got news that some guy that once dated my cousin had passed on from AIDS. he was only 27!!! dont you just hate it when a person that young dies?
so be careful y'all. this is for real. AIDS KILLS!!!!
i did head this post AIDS is real so i guess i owe y'all an explanation. yesterday, a work mate came with this wild(what i thought at first)tale about having seen a list of people living with HIV in this town. i hear she got it from a very reliable source bla bla bla. anyway, some of the names on that list were all too farmiliar-not because i have slept with any of those people- but because some of those people have slept with peope i have been very close to. this revelation shook me so bad i rushe to the loos to get sick. turns out, this very pretty 20 something hot babe, got enticed by this night club mogul(married), who got her a house, furnished it, gives her an enormous monthly allowance, but also gave the HIV(for good measure?). i know this gal.
anyway, why it hit home so much is because she is so hot, every guy i knew wanted to go to bed with her. so imagine the average guy dates her, goes to bed with her, things dont work out, average guy meets average girl(me?), she goes to bed with him...you see the cycle? that right there is what got me shook pretty bad.
anyway, later in the afternoon i got news that some guy that once dated my cousin had passed on from AIDS. he was only 27!!! dont you just hate it when a person that young dies?
so be careful y'all. this is for real. AIDS KILLS!!!!