Wednesday, March 27, 2013

That's What He Said

"Ask"
So I did;
Give me
Wants, Whims,
Good, Bad,
Greed, Needs.
You withheld.
Only in Your time.

"Ask"
Again I did;
Show me
And in my wait time,
Comes growing faith
And building trust.
I learn patience.

"Ask"
As always, I do;
Prune me
You always give what I need.
Let me have it
But only when You've made it beautiful,
Like You do with all things
In Your Time.



Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Only In America - Punxsutawney Phil


I could not believe what I heard on the news today, actually caught on the Wall Street Journal. A prosecutor filed a criminal indictment against a groundhog, who happens to go by the name Punxsutawney Phil. Phil’s crime? It predicted an early spring which turned out to be fraudulent. And this so happened to make headlines, that the rodent was to be pardoned and the blame would be transferred to the Phil’s handler.

*Punxsutawney Phil - a groundhog, resident of Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. On February 2 (Groundhog Day) of each year, the town of Punxsutawney celebrates the beloved groundhog with a festive atmosphere of music and food. During the ceremony, Phil emerges from his temporary home on Gobbler's Knob, located in a rural area about 2 miles (3.2 km) east of town. According to the tradition, if Phil sees his shadow and returns to his hole, he has predicted six more weeks of winter-like weather. If Phil does not see his shadow, he has predicted an "early spring." The date of Phil's prognostication is known as Groundhog Day in the United States and Canada. He is considered to be the world's most famous prognosticating rodent. During the rest of the year, Phil lives in the town library with his "wife" Phyllis.

I'd rather you tagged me (or my ignorance) un-American, but I must say I am amazed at the ridiculousness of this whole scenario. What?! It's really tempting to insert a clip from Sweet Brown, who woke up to go get a cold pop, and then thought somebody was barbequeing. "I said, 'Oh, Lord Jesus, it's a fire!' Then I ran out. I didn't grab no shoes or nothing, Jesus, I ran for my life. And then the smoke got me, I got bronchitis! ...'" AIN'T NOBODY GAT TIME FOR DAT!

I guess it is safe to conclude that when such trivialities make headlines, it implies all is well in the land. After all, I have seen gas prices drop these past couple weeks from $3.89 per gallon to $3.45, employment in Georgia is presently seeing some economic victory with companies like Caterpillar erecting a $200 million factory and employing people in thousands, and General Motors making a comeback in Metro Atlanta this year, also recruiting, expanding and building new facilities. There's a lot of ongoing reconstruction and expansion on the GA state route 316. And just the other day on CNN's Piers Morgan Live, there was some rather dense talk about the TSA allowing knives back on airplanes, a policy that will take effect on April 25 this year, since terrorist groups reportedly know not to take a plane with a knife. So I guess, while Erin Burnett reports it's been 600 days since 'we' lost AAA, it's all peaches in the Peach state, and peaceful in Uncle Sam's land at the moment. 
Hey, what was I ranting about again? Nothing. Other than the fact that this year's spring is fraudulently cold, nothing.





Photo credits: Google Images


Thursday, March 21, 2013

World Poetry Day: For When He Held My Face


Shall it go down in history that I knew it was poetry day and failed to acknowledge it? Nope! And on this note, before the clock strikes 12, I present this painted soulful expression written by Ajike. Enjoy!


A little more gloss.
Smack.
More smack.
More gloss.
This mirror. Or my eyes. Which?
What did it matter?
I was going to be with the one I believed loved me.
They said he'd like flowery,
He'd call me beautiful.

Tug, tug, pull, pull
The flowery dress did fit right
Except for the chest area
There was the jacket to take care of that.

Little flower blooming, if only you knew.
If only you knew to take a walk instead on lying cuddling up to him,
Like the many times you imagined him while you chatted.
He had nothing to entertain you with; thoughtless.
Do you not prepare to make someone you care about comfortable in your own home?
No, don't make mountains out of mole hills.
Sit pretty and enjoy his company.

He was back with something for you to drink.
What happens after is a blur but he holds your face and blurts out,
"You are not fine jor."

You still say it sometimes, not missing the last word.
Get that voice out of your head, darling.
That sinking feeling when he said,
"I do not see you in my waking and sleeping ..."
That, you appreciated; the honesty.
You would not have it any other way.

That feeling resurfaced, when he left you for another.
It was final and you knew to be wise,
To walk away from his offer of 'love.'
Love is not a decision you make without those feelings.
Men are crazy; crazy in love.
If he's not crazy, crazy for you at first,
He'll never grow crazy in love with you, ever.

But you know now to love yourself first.
What does it matter that you failed, that you made a mistake?
You learned to be vulnerable, to be human, to hope, to take a leap, 
To not wait to be perfect to love and be loved.
You are strange, and beautiful, and kind and special,
Something not everyone knows how to love.
Including you.

To growth and loving yourself first, Ajike.
Shine brighter!


For When He Held My Face by Ajike A., 2013.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Point of Return

These are the most profound lines I have read in a newspaper article. While reading the New York Times, the words from this paragraph resonated with me.




Deep calleth unto deep ...
Safe to say the novel Home hit home. I trash my old papers, but wouldn't throw this one out for almost a year; I had kept it from May last year until last weekend. I finally took a picture of the excerpt so I could posterise it, see it over and over again and stretch those words in my mind. 

Sunday Book Review, New York Times (by Leah Hager Cohen, May 20, 2012, Page BR1). Reviewing Toni Morrison’s novel, Home.

Monday, March 18, 2013

Everyone's Irish on March 17


This year, I had the funnest St. Patrick's day ever. I mean, how Irish can Lagos really get? I'll admit I did celebrate the day back home with a pint of Guinness; even a renounced Catholic like me knows to pay respects with the rest of the world. However, with that being said, there is absolutely no hedonic thrill in beer for me, which proves the good Sire Arthur Guinness had me in mind when he put his name on the malt bottles too. I therefore drink my beer un-fermented.

Well, St.Patrick's this year was different in more ways than one. With my soul uncontrolled by geography, I was miles and cultures away from Lagos, and I went celebrating with friends; a relatively diverse group of Africans, Asian and Americans of Irish descent.
With the winter cold giving way to the pleasant spring, the weather was warm and beautiful and were we glad to chuck our coats and boots for the skimpies; shorts, dresses, sandals. It was barely 2 p.m. and our host was mixing and serving up alcoholic drinks. Board games, Pizza boxes, crates of Blue Moons, Ginger Ale and Gin cocktails later, we were headed Downtown Athens.

Downtown, at the rooftop of the Georgia theatre, we had walked in on some guy's surprise birthday party. It was a party, I wanted cake and I didn't know the celebrant but I managed a hug from the birthday boy and a hat which had 'Happy Birthday 30' written on it. We made our way to a Vietnamese restaurant, and as we walked in, the waiter wished me a happy birthday. "She's 30 today," my crew cheered. By the time we were done with our meal, someone dimmed the lights and the restaurant staff actually came singing a birthday song and served me cake. So there I was celebrating my thirtieth birthday, only 3 and a quarter years early. Woozy and giggly, I was loving every moment.

There was a hookah bar, a taco shop and a Starbucks somewhere in the itinerary and our drinks were seemingly bottomless everywhere. The entire day was dictated by spontaneity, and in the spur of the moment, one of us wanted to go dancing and so we wound up at a club on Broad Street. Series of mojitos and other beverages later, we were on a stage doing the Harlem Shake (the Baauer one).

"Con Los Terroristas!" A member of our party starts staggering and that's our cue to exit. The guys are wasted, the girls are relatively sober, which meant we practically carried men to the car. Getting home and getting them out of the car was as dramatic as it was hilarious, but we made it. It so happened that all of our cellphones went dead right before the action, so we missed an excellent opportunity to make videos or even take pictures for future taunting. Talk about luck o' the Irish.



Photo credits: Google Images