Do You Believe...?

You wake up one Sunday (or Saturday) morning after a night of partying and you don't feel tired at all. Unlike a normal weekend where you would have spent half the day in bed and the other half lazing around the house, you feel strangely energized and a sudden urge overcomes you. Somehow, you feel that you have to go to church. After all, it's only 9:00 in the morning and you haven't been to church in a few weeks. The longer you sit there debating it, the guiltier you feel about missing church all those weeks, and the stronger the urge to do something different for a change.

So you jump in the shower, pull out that modest dress you keep at the back of your closet for this occassion, go online and google a church. There are lots of churches that jump out at you and you randomly choose one, not because it's the nearest one, but because it's on a road you've heard of. By 10:30, you're ready to head out and hoping to make it to the 11:00 service.

You get to church fifteen minutes late and try to find a seat at the back, near the aisle, so you can slip out when the preacher starts getting boring. At least you'll still feel nice that you made it to church, even if it was only for an hour. Unfortunately for you, all the aisle seats are taken so you squeeze in between old ladies, miffed that you can't easily escape. You resolve to simply daydream when you get bored and suffer through the entire service. After all, it's only two hours.

Soon, the familiar ritual starts: announcements, song, prayer, song, offerings & tithes, song...right about now, you start thinking about what to do in the afternoon. You're only five minutes away from the mall, so you could go shopping right after service and call one of your friends to join you. Just as you're picturing that sexy pair of jeans you were gonna buy from Express, you hear someone sniffling.

You look up to find the choir leader in the process of introducing the song they're about to sing and all of a sudden she's overcome by bouts of crying...something about her best friend hurting her deeply. You roll your eyes and wonder why people always tell their life stories, especially when service is already running late. You look at the time: 12:45. Damn! The preaching hasn't even started. You're about to continue your shopping spree in your head when all of a sudden, some elderly lady takes the pulpit and proclaims, "The Holy Spirit is present here today".

Oh! Crap! You look around and everyone is either sniffling or their eyes are shining. You start wondering whether now would be a good time to make that escape, but then you realize you're stuck in the middle of the pew and can't exactly slip out unnoticed. You silently curse and try your hardest to block out what's happening. You've never been a big fan of stuff like this and you simply don't function very well in an emotionally charged environment, be it due to the "Holy Spirit", at a funeral, or whatever.

There's an eerie silence in the church. Even the piano is no longer playing in the background. That same old lady looks right at you and says, "The Holy Spirit impressed upon me to come up here and deliver a message from God..." You start freaking out because you realize that the lady still has her eyes fixed on you. "...there's a young lady here today who underwent some childhood trauma and has been struggling all her life..." By this time you are completely hyperventilating. "....and God wants you to know that...." The old lady's eyes are still trained on you and you feel blood rushing to your head and you're about to pass out. You tell yourself to stop being silly and try to prevent yourself from fainting, because you most certainly will. By the time that feeling passes, you realize that the lady has gotten off the podium. Worse yet, you didn't hear that last part of her message. You convince yourself that she was crazy, and even if she weren't, she was totally talking about someone else. I mean, how many young ladies are there in that whole church?

You spend the next hour trying to block out what you heard, but the voice in your head keeps nudging you to...do what? Find the lady and ask her what on earth she was talking about? As soon as service is over, you walk out, trying to make yourself invisible and head straight to your car. You forget all about the mall, head straight home, and vow never to go back to that church again. In a few days, you'll have convinced yourself that nothing ever happened.

Too Much Hype

Have you ever waited so long to try out something because it seemed like the rest of the world had already tried it out and loved it and you were the only one left out? Have you ever gone to a super hyped up movie expecting the world to explode into fireworks, only to come out disappointed and wondering why you even bothered?

Well, that was me today. It had nothing to do with a movie though. I was talking to Steve on the phone and by the time I hang up, I was so horny I could have simply creamed myself without trying. I was lying in bed, sexually frustrated, when I suddenly remembered that somewhere deep in my yet to be unpacked suitcase lay a vibrator that Steve had gotten me as a going away present. I have never in my life used one, although I know plenty of chicks who have. I'm not sure why I've never owned one myself, but from all the hype surrounding the little toy, I've always wondered if it really is as good as it sounds.

I looked around my apartment, only to realize that I didn't have batteries. I was too horny to give up so I decided to go to the gas station across the street and get some. As I put the batteries in, my heartrate increased ten fold and I could barely contain my excitement. Finally, I was holding a vibrator in my hand and I was about to experience an earth shattering orgasm. Perhaps I could even have multiple orgasms for the first time in my life! A fleeting thought crossed my mind: what if I become addicted? What if it's so good that I never wanna have normal intercourse again? As I adjusted the speed on that vibrator, all thoughts evaporated and the only thing I wanted to do was close my eyes and prepare myself to go to heaven.

Ok, I realize this blog is rated G so let me skip the details. But, I have never been so disappointed in my life. First of all, the so called vibrations feel as though someone has a stick in there and is shaking it up and down, only there's not enough room to shake the stick. And the orgasm is no different than normal masturbation...nothing like the real deal. So how anyone can even become addicted to a vibrator is beyond me. I had to call Steve and let him know that I still prefer the real thing. All he could do was laugh, I'm not sure if it was out of pure amusement or relief that his girlfriend would still be horny when he came to visit.

So, if you're one of those chicks that's never used a vibrator and have always wondered what it feels like, believe me, there's nothing you're missing. And for the guys that are even remotely concerned about their chicks using a vibrator, really, there's no competition there.

I had forgotten just how much I hate moving until I had to this past weekend, and it has been hell. The damn landlord was supposed to change the carpet and re-do the tiles and get me a new fridge before I moved in on Monday, but none of that happened. In fact, I ended up moving into my apartment on Tuesday, only to discover that not only did I not have my new fridge and floor, but the apartment had not been cleaned. I had to spend the night at a friend's house and I started orientation classes today. I came in to dump all my stuff in my apartment and I can't unpack until I scrub it spotless (I am borderline OCD so the clutter is driving me nuts).

On the other hand, the city ain't so bad. I haven't had much time to explore, but I like the atmosphere. Everyone in my program is really nice and I even bumped into a med student I did research with three years ago and he made my day. Steve and I are handling the separation really well, all things considered (but of course it's only been a few days). He's shopping for a ticket to come visit at the end of the month and I hope things work out with both our schedules.

It's so weird to be sitting back in a classroom. In fact, those guys are so cruel, they gave us a biochem test on our first day. It made me remember just how much I hated sitting still and listening to someone drone on and on, but at the same time, I remembered how much I'd missed the student lifestyle. I'm so glad I decided to defer my med school admission for a year so I could do this postbac program. For sure, I would have had a rough time adjusting to the fast pace of med school after working full time for so long. Now, it would be nice if I bumped into a few Kenyans on campus, hoping they don't turn out to be of dubious character.

Top Three Ways...

Another dreary, foggy day. I guess that means summer's over. I'm moving in ten days and I still haven't done jack as far as packing goes, and I'm running around having coffee/lunch/dinner dates with everyone in my life except the one that counts the most: Steve. You'd think I'd be spending every waking minute with him, but it turns out I've only seen him once this whole week (keep in mind we used to see each other everyday). I must be weaning myself off him already.

This will be my first time ever being in a long distance relationship, and I thought it might be fun to hear from the veterans what their opinion is about:

a) Top three ways to make a long distance relationship work

b) Top three ways to ensure a long distance relationship doesn't last

Be creative, honest, funny...

Moving On

Do you ever look back and pinpoint a single moment in your life when you knew nothing was ever going to be the same again? When your perspective of the world around you changed and you looked at yourself in the mirror and wondered who that stranger staring back at you was?

Since my last post, a lot has changed in my life. It's been a summer of major growing up and major changes. I finally got the opportunity of a lifetime and I'm about to embark on an incredible journey to build the career I always dreamed about, and to that end, I'm moving to a new city in two weeks. I've never been one to live in one city for too long, and after six years here, I'm ready for the change and looking forward to making new friends and exploring a new environment.

My view of love, friendship, family...life... has changed dramatically. And yes, those of you that were following the mini soap opera of my drama-filled relationship with Steve are probably wondering how that whole situation played out. It makes me wanna laugh out loud saying this, but...we're still together, somehow. Now we just have to see how the long distance pans out (I do know that LDRs don't work 99.9% of the time but really, after all the shit we put each other through, we might as well try it). Someday, I'm sure I'll continue where I left off and blog about how on earth I ever forgave him. Maybe I'm crazier than I think.

So, I hope you'll continue reading about the mundane happenings of my life as I read about yours. After all, what's the fun in living if you can't share your experiences (or lack of) with others, huh?

After the storm...

Hello fellow bloggers, after a very long, much needed hiatus, I'm back. I missed you people's blogs and I look forward to reading your funny, serious, crazy, and sometimes meaningless blogs. This time, I'll hopefully have less drama to write about. My life has changed...really :)

Bad Jokes

Here's a really bad joke Steve once sent me. Obviously, I don't have photographic memory so I'll paraphrase it and it probably won't come out right, but here goes. There was this blonde bimbo who went to visit the doctor and said, "doctor, I think my breasts are made of water". Puzzled, the doctor was silent for a few moments before asking, "what makes you think that"? The blonde bimbo, pleased with herself replied, "because everytime my boyfriend touches my nipples I get wet"....

Here's another really bad joke. Steve wants to get back with me. Here's the hard part. He enlisted the help of his dad to talk to me. You know, I've come to the conclusion that a lot of men are idiots. Steve insists that he never cheated on me with his ex, and in fact, he hadn't seen her in over a year. Apparently, she started calling him earlier this year and he started reminiscing about the relationship they had. He was still looking for closure because the chick had just walked out on him without an explanation why. His phone calls and emails had gone unreplied and finally he gave up. But, that never stopped him from wondering all the "what ifs" because they had been pretty serious (to the point where he almost proposed). Her latest reason for walking out? She was too busy with school and couldn't handle being in a relationship.

So what does the clever guy do when the chick starts calling him and claiming that she still loves him? He starts fantasizing about what could have been. He feels like he's torn between me and his ex. So he runs to daddy for advice. By the time I was reading that email, he hadn't resolved his feelings. After I asked him about it, he of course told me everything (the fool has always been honest) and I was super mad and just couldn't think straight for a few days. Since then, he's obviously had a chance to see the ex and he realizes that he was simply elevating her onto a pedestal and she's nothing like what he remembered. Hence the reason for his coming back to ask me to give him a second chance. Yes, and his dad agrees with him, perhaps because he adores me and has this image of "the perfect daughter-in-law to be".

Now, guys, please explain this phenomenon to me cuz I simply don't get it. How many times have I heard stories that closely resemble this? How in the world can he even justify us getting back together? He's quick to point out that he knows it'll take time to re-build the trust and all that BS, but seriously!! This is a no-brainer. Of course I need to look him in the eye and tell him to "fuck off" so I can move on with my life. Except....

There is that little matter of love. What a strong emotion that is! Sometimes, I even allow myself to entertain the idea that somehow, I can find it in me to ignore this minor "irritation" that is his ex and try to re-build the relationship. That's when I quickly pick up the phone and call my fav cousin for a pep talk. You know, the kind that goes like, "You are so beautiful, smart, with the personality of an angel. You can have any guy in the world". Or, "There are so many Steves out there, move on already". Or, "You are too young to even be in this situation. Let it go". Or my favorite, "Good heavens! You're starting to sound like those desperate chicks we hate."

Yeah, that does snap me back to my senses, until I go to sleep and lay in bed thinking about Steve. Wondering what he's doing, if he's also thinking about me. And then he'll send a text to say good night, and I know without a doubt that he is thinking about me. I'm seriously tripping, and I really should know better. I SHOULD.

It is Good to Snoop!

My first few posts on this blog detailed my very first snooping experience where I actually stole Steve's phone, bought a charger, and read his texts. I felt pretty psychotic back then, but that didn't stop me from snooping around a second time. Actually, this time was pure luck. I've been so caught up in my emotional problems for the past few months mpaka all I could see was the total support that Steve has afforded me, totally ignoring anything that he might have said or done to raise an eyebrow.

Last week, we happened to be at my fav coffeeshop just chilling when he asked to use my laptop to check his email. He did and when he was done, I shut the computer off and we left for dinner. I didn't touch my computer again until last night. I got off work late and just needed to go sit at a coffeeshop and de-stress before heading home for the night. I got to the coffeeshop and took out my laptop to check emails. As soon as I clicked on Yahoo! mail, I found myself in Steve's inbox. "What the hell?!" I thought. Usually, once you close the window, Yahoo! automatically logs you out. I was about to sign out of his account and into mine when a thought occured to me. When on earth will I ever find myself logged onto Steve's email account with him nowhere in sight? This was too good of a temptation and even an angel couldn't have resisted.

So I started going through his mails, most of them junk and uninteresting. There was the occasional email from an ex who was now married, but there was nothing surprising there since he'd already told me most of the stuff I read. His inbox was cluttered with useless junk mails and I was bored. I almost logged out when I thought to check his sent mails. I mean, there's no junk in the "sent" folder, right? I saw a couple of emails he'd sent me, friends and then one lone name caught my eye. His last ex before he and I started dating. We've had a fight over this ex once before and the last I heard, they weren't even talking. Then here was this one email he'd sent with this line,

"You know I hate it when you start acting like that. It's been over 24 hours since you called me and I'm tempted to text you but I know I can't and it's driving me crazy. There, are you happy now? I'm going crazy..."

Yes, I have those lines burned into my skull. I was so furious! This was sent on Feb 10 of this year. The weekend when he told me that he needed some time alone to think. At the time, I thought my emotional issues were overwhelming him and he needed his space. Kumbe! I picked up the phone and called him. Nothing. He finally called me at 10:00 p.m. sounding all tired. I was so mad I could barely talk. But, I did manage to ask him if he was "talking" to someone else. He got really defensive and that only served to make me more suspicious.

So, in a few minutes, his ass is gonna show up here and he's going to explain what the hell he thinks he's doing. And, no, I'm not jumping the gun here. The circumstances leading to his break-up with this chick were fishy to begin with. For crying out loud, he'd even proposed to her (I gathered this piece of info from the texts I'd read back in the day, a fact he denied and somehow talked his way out of).

I hadn't thought about this ex-chic of his for months. Infact, trust was no longer an issue and we were both getting pretty serious with this relationship, to the point where our families are involved. The thing that sucks even more is that today is actually our anniversary, what a bummer. I'm gonna have to ask for his phone and see the kind of texts he's been exchanging with this chick. I'm so mad right now. We're definitely headed down the break-up lane.

While my reading that message was totally accidental, this time around I don't feel guilty for finding myself thumping through his inbox. It's gonna save me a lot of trouble. To think we were even considering ways to make the relationship work when I move out of state in fall...bullshit! So for all you in relationships, don't have qualms about occassionally peaking at your significant other's phone/email. I don't see it as a matter of trust or whatever. If I don't have anything to hide, I'd care less whether or not my guy reads my texts/emails. Shit, here he comes.....

How Much Lower Can One Sink?

You know, I used to be one of those people (read Kenyans) who would marvel at all the seemingly endless mental illnesses that Americans seemed to suffer from. The concept of "mental illness" was as foreign as frappucinos when I was growing up. When you mention the name "mathare", a string of negative connotations and images come flooding to mind. I remember having this study partner when I was a freshman in college. Her parents were divorced, she had been diagnosed with both depression and borderline personality disorder and had been on antidepressants for most of her life. On a good day, she was a fun, smart friend to hang with. When her "craziness" took over, however, it was like staring at an alien. Her constant suicidal tendencies used to scare the shit out of me and her prolonged use of medications had finally started to wear her out. She was an honor student, but by the end of sophomore year, she had dropped out of school and moved in with some random guy she didn't know and her life pretty much went downhill from there. I always thought she was weird and interesting. So fascinated was I with her that I minored in Psychology so I could explore these strange illnesses that I never even knew existed. Little did I know that this would be my chance to start understanding my life.

Flashforward to 2007. I had been sitting at a coffeeshop staring at the same page of my book for hours when a thought entered my head, "you're fucked up". That thought was so clear, I actually thought someone had sneaked in behind me and whispered it in my ear. I shook myself up from the daze and realized that I had no idea what I'd been doing for the past 4 hours of my day. This didn't surprise me one bit. I am used to having blackouts where I'll forget entire parts of my day. I can sit in one spot for 5 hours and not even notice it. When I glance around 5 hours later, it'll feel like waking up from a dream and I'll remember nothing. I used to think this was a normal occurence until I mentioned it to my best friend one time and she gave me a strange look that told me there was definitely something wrong with me. Freudians have a name for this.

Lately, I've been thinking about my life, where I've been, where I am, and where the hell it is I'm headed. Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. Those are the times I try to stay away from my own company. I'll call some friends up and hit the clubs, or lose myself in the art of lovemaking (I really don't know what Steve's thinking still dating me). Some days, however, dragging myself out of bed is an impossible feat. Then there are days when I tell myself that I should use my past as a motivator for becoming a better person and it works for a few months. Those are the times I'll lose myself in volunteer activities, one after the other, until I burn out. Then there are those days when I just need to admit that sure, I've lived a pretty messed up life, but there are others who're more fucked up than I can ever be. Such is the fun of reading books like "Running with Scissors", where rather than sympathize with the character, I laugh out loud and pat myself on the back for managing to escape such a vicious childhood.

So, where was I going with this post? Nowhere, really. Just exploring the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it's time I took my mental health seriously and made that phone call. I have the number saved on my cell, just in case. Yet, it never feels like it's the right time. But really, is there such a thing as "the right time" to come face to face with your demons? My year started off with me drenched in tears. Those tears have turned out to be more prophetic than I could ever have imagined. It's gotten harder and harder to simply "forget", block disturbing images and memories from my mind. It's becoming impossible to feign happiness. More importantly, I'm getting really tired of being enslaved to my past. Yet...

Loss of My Fave Author

First thing I do every morning when I wake up (no matter how late I'm running) is log onto CNN and at least glance at the headlines. This morning was no different, but I was dissapointed to read this story. I remember the first time I picked up a book by Sidney Sheldon. I was in class seven. I'd read all the Sweet Valley High and Sweet Valley Universitys that I could handle and I was getting bored with the same old predictable story line and like any series running too long, the authors were starting to run out of ideas. The result was that Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield were becoming more and more alien (werewolves? For crying out loud!) In my quest to find a different kind of author, my friends introduced me to Mills & Boon books and Danielle Steele. Needless to say, I wasn't impressed.

Then one day, I happened to pick up a book titled "Stars Fall Down" by Sidney Sheldon. There was no ounce of romance in that book and it was so captivating, I stayed up all night reading it. That weekend, I went to some bookstore in city center (centre?) and bought my very first copy of a Sidney Sheldon book: "Nothing Lasts Forever". That's how I became hooked. Over the years, I made it my mission to read every single book he ever wrote, and to that end, I think I succeeded. He was such an awesome writer, always keeping you in suspense until the very end. While most mystery/thrillers usually become predictable by the time you get to the middle of the book, Sheldon did a pretty good job of keeping you clueless until the last few pages, and that's not an easy feat.

And so today, I take the opportunity to acknowledge the great contribution Sheldon made to my literary life. I'm sure I'm not alone out there when I say that on many days, I killed my boredom by burying myself in one of his books. As a result, my imagination grew and I sure put it to good use. Yes, I won an award for creative writing in my senior year of high school. Rest In Peace Sidney Sheldon. I will miss you as one of my favorite authors of all time.

I'm Bored

Have you ever found yourself in a relationship in which you were simply going through the motions of being a girlfriend (or boyfriend)? You know...call everyday to see how the day's going and say goodnight, go on a date and end up in bed having sex (it's still good), and right afterward be in a hurry to leave rather than let that feeling linger? The I-love-you's have dwindled and now you're lucky if you even hear those three words within the month.

At first, I thought that maybe the opposite schedules were working against us. We were both busy and stressed out from work. However, now that I've switched my schedule and synchronized it with his, nothing's changed. If anything, I'm spending all my free evenings hanging out with my friends or family. Sometimes, we'll both be at home, bored, but neither of us wants to drive to see the other. I'm not as eager for the phone calls, in fact, I find myself increasingly screening his calls and intentionally not calling back for a day. I've stopped suggesting coffee/dinner/dancing/movie dates, and so has he. I actually find myself feeling very bored when I'm at his house and we're not being intimate. While he's still thinking we have a future together, I'm increasingly starting to see that what we both want is too different for this relationship to ever work, let alone lead to marriage. I intend to move out of state and start school in fall and I just don't see us surviving the long distance (I don't wanna be a prisoner) and I don't see him moving with me (again, I don't wanna be a prisoner).

Despite all this, he still manages to make my heart skip a beat, and our conversations are great when we're both not too tired to talk. I went out of town this past weekend. The night before I left, we were cuddling in bed when I brought up the topic of the current status of our relationship. He gave me a puzzled look, acting all surprised. According to him, everything's perfect, and his only worry is what's gonna happen when I move. Needless to say, I haven't seen him since then (almost a week now) and he hasn't even called to ask me how my weekend went (in detail). If everything's ok in his book, how does he explain the lack of touching and kissing (unless it'll lead to sex) and the non-existent I-love-you? Sometimes, I feel like we're simply good friends. Sure, it's expected after you've been in a relationship for awhile, but I'm not ok with the status quo. Maybe it's just been too long since we had drama. I can't cook up any drama right now if I tried. Maybe that's the problem. Our relationship is a little too perfect, hence too boring....

What's Your Recommendation?

A few weeks ago, two different people recommended a book for me to read. The first person is a friend from church, and the other is a workmate. I don't recall exactly how the conversations led to the book recommendations, but hearing the same book title from two different people piqued my curiosity. I am usually very particular about the kind of books I read, and take the subject matter very seriously. But, in the spirit of my 2006 resolution of trying new things, I went to Barnes & Noble and bought a book - blindly. I had no idea what the book was about and I intended to keep it that way to prevent myself from judging it too fast. The cover was pretty. That's lame, but for me, it was a good sign. The title made no sense to me, but that didn't matter. As I sipped my grande chai latte, I tentatively opened the first page and started reading.

The book was centered on the brutal rape and murder of a fourteen-year-old girl and her account of events following her murder, as she observes from heaven. One thing stood out for me: the fact that the description of the rape and subsequent murder and dismemberment of her body was not as detailed and gruesome as you would expect. In fact, the tone of that book is so light that at some time, I had to stop and wonder why exactly these two people had recommended the book to me. It was the kind of book you read just because. But, in the end, it did make me think how horrible it would be if people really died and went to heaven and watched the world from heaven (this is a theological theory I don't buy into. From my own understanding of the Bible, death is like sleep, and people don't die and immediately go to heaven or hell). In the end, I still didn't understand what the title "The Lovely Bones" means.

Since this was a new writer previously unknown to me, I did what I do with every writer. I dug around for reviews of her other books. It turned out that Alice Sebold had a memoir on top of the fictional "Lovely Bones". I am going through a memoir-phase right now, and I decided to go out and buy that book, especially since I found out that she is a "rape victim". I am always interested in learning how other people have coped with trauma in their lives and figured I had nothing to lose. So I went out and bought "Lucky". In contrast to her fictional work, Alice Sebold started the first five pages of this book with a detailed, gruesome account of how she was attacked and raped in a park in the middle of the night when she was an eighteen-year-old college freshman. Perhaps it was the shock of the account, or the matter-of-fact way in which she wrote about it. Whatever it was, I was hooked and ended up reading the entire book in a day. The last few pages were so surprising and dismaying that when I was done reading, I felt like I had lost something. Not sure what that "something" is, exactly.

So, that's how I started my new year. Reading about rape. And crying. Lots of crying. I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity for a few hours. After all, it's my first holiday without my kid bro, we had a winter storm that ensured there would be no new year's eve parties (I wasn't about to be the dumbass being rescued by the National Guard simply cuz I had the urge to drive to a party in the middle of a winter storm). My parents had already called and wished me happy new year at 9:00 p.m, they had no intention of staying up late for no reason. Lilly is gone. And Steve. Steve had gone to St. Louis to visit his grandma and his flight back was cancelled. Plans to spend new year's eve together went out the window then. In bed and alone, I had plenty of time to feel lonely and miss all the people I loved. Hopefully, that's not indicative of how the rest of my year will pan out.

Of course, I'm digressing. Now the point of this post. I want to indulge this memoir craving I'm having. Have any of you fellow bloggers read a mind-blowing memoir that made you cry, laugh, paranoid, or simply go "wow"? One that touched you in some way, perhaps because you could relate? Please make a recommendation, and say why you recommend the book. Thanks, and happy new year. Hope your year started off on a more upbeat note than mine did!

A New Beginning

First of all, I would like to thank everyone of you bloggers that has in some way cared enough to leave me comments of encouragement and also the really thoughtful emails I've received. I never imagined that faceless, nameless strangers online would care that much, and you've all made me glad I joined KBW. Thanks for all the moral support.

So, it's that time of year again. The time when many people reflect back to the previous year and count their blessings (or lack of), time to make those useless resolutions you know you're gonna break by day two of the new year. I used to be the kind to make lots of resolutions. So many in fact, that I would write them down on a list and save that list until the end of the year. On New Year's Eve, I would take out that list and count how many resolutions I had kept. Not surprisingly, the figure was always none. To me, this was just another one of those stupid traditions I kept simply cuz they existed. And so when I went off to college, I abandoned the tradition altogether, seeing it as a waste of time.

Last year though, something changed. Lilly and I were having one of our usual "arguments" and she was accusing me of being too "set in my ways". I had no spontaneous bone in me back then and if something was not on my agenda, then I wasn't gonna do it. As a challenge, she made a bet with me and as a result of that bet, I made my one and only new year's resolution: to be a little more open-minded and try new things. This time, I had to actually try and keep the resolution or else I would cough $1000 at the end of the year. And so my year started with a skiing trip, a skill I still don't have, and one I'll probably never muster. Why in the world anyone would go freeze their butt for hours on a mountain is beyond me. But, I had lots of fun and kept up the spirit all year. As a result, I had the most wonderful year I have ever had in my entire life. I did not let the fear of the unknown stop me from accepting a challenge and I made it a point to go out of my way to try and do things that would ordinarily make me uncomfortable. This was the best new year's resolution I ever made, and it's the only one I've ever kept.

In the spirit of trying new things, I've decided to make another resolution for next year. One I'm tempted to say "no thanks" to, but I'll accept as a personal challenge. Steve (God bless this man. Maybe I should start taking his marriage talk seriously) asked me what my new year's resolutions were gonna be for next year. I hadn't really thought that far ahead and I really wasn't planning on making any. One of his resolutions is to read the entire Bible and he asked me to embark on the journey with him. It's been a couple of years since I last opened my Bible on my own outside of church. I thought back to the days in high school when I truly believed in God and put God first in everything I did. Back then, I used to read my Bible everyday and would even buy those small devotional books (remember "Daily Bread" anyone?) I'm not sure at what point in my life exactly I became disillusioned, but it happened all the same. And so with very little resistance, I accepted that as my one resolution for 2007. To read the Bible. I don't know where that's gonna lead, but I do know that a year is a very long time for your life to turn completely around. I only have to read my diary from a year ago and compare it with my diary entries from this week to know how true this is.

And so with the new year, I'm ready for a new beginning. I feel like I'm on the verge of something big happening in my life, and whatever direction my life takes, I hope I can look back a year from today and be grateful for the change. Happy New Year KBW!

The Aftermath

It's been almost three weeks now since my best friend decided to end her life in a most tragic way. Seems like the longest three weeks of my life. I've been floating around, barely conscious of myself or anything else around me. Yesterday, the police officially closed her file. Conclusion? It was a suicide. Duh! Like we didn't already know that? They kept insisting that they wanted to make sure there was no foul play involved before they could definitely rule it as a suicide. This is not some CSI shit...that's all I wanted to scream so they could leave me the hell alone. I have never felt my privacy so violated, I have never in my life been so scrutinized before. After all, she was my best friend and I should have known if something was amiss, right? Goddamit! I didn't even know she was gonna kill herself! There was no note left behind, no explanation, no last words.

So many emotions and thoughts running amok in my mind. At first I was angry that she would be so selfish and leave her family and friends forever wondering "what if..." Then the guilt set in. How can I be angry at a dead person? Perhaps I should have seen it coming, paid attention to all the little clues she kept giving me. Like the time she asked the rhetorical question: "If you had a choice on how you die, what would choose?" I never thought anything of it, just her being silly as usual. So we discussed death that day, both of us deciding that being shot, drowning and burning to death had to be the most painful ways to die. I should have wondered why she brought up the topic, but I didn't.

And so I've spent the last three weeks crying, getting angry, feeling guilty, and eventually just accepting reality. She's gone. That simple fact struck me only yesterday when I reached for my phone. It had been ringing off the hook and by thanksgiving I was so irritated I switched it off. So I turned it on and I had 103 voicemails, none of which I intend to listen to. My fingers automatically went to speed dial my gal's number, and then I stopped myself. I will never again hear her voice. She was so full of energy and always brought a smile to my face when she said "hello". Even if she was bored to death or had just woken up, she somehow managed to sound like she was in the middle of a very exciting activity. Cheerfulness, the one self defense mechanism she taught me. "If people always think you're happy, they'll never have a reason to ask you what's wrong" is the logic she used. And she put it to practice. But never around me. I was perhaps the only person she ever gave the opportunity to ask her if something was wrong. And I always knew when she was lying and needed a little cajoling to come out with it.

Now, I have no one to talk to about the most mundane things. And the not so mundane things. My relationship with Steve is strained and I need advice on how to handle it. I need someone to go with me to the most boring baby shower that was ever had, and I know she's the only person that would have agreed, without whining even once. I keep remembering the first day we met in class 6. I was a new student at the school and I was shy as hell, going through that awkward stage where making new friends is an ordeal. But she walked up to me during break and offered me a Marie biscuit with the words "Stop looking so sad, you'll not be new forever". Somehow, she understood me before she even knew me. Ours wasn't a perfect relationship. No, we had quite a few fights over the years. But never a fight that was too big for us to work things out. But now she's gone. Forever.

And so to my friend Lilly, I say to you. Thank you for being the sister I never had. Thank you for making my life so full of joy and hope. When I was at the lowest point in my life, you somehow made me see that there was a reason to keep going. You saved my life. I wish you hadn't left the way you did, but now that you are gone, I'll try to understand why you did it. I will forever keep your memory alive. Remember that scholarship fund we often talked about starting at our alma mater and always thought it was corny to name it after ourselves since we would be alive? Well, it will be under your name, and for generations everyone at that campus will know what an awesome individual you were. Thank you for teaching me the meaning of love and true friendship. My life will never be the same without you, but I will try to live up to your favorite quote: "Life goes on regardless". R.I.P. my angel.
************************************************************************************
To all KBW members who left me a message, thanks for your thoughtfulness. It's only the web, but it still means a lot to me.

What's There to be Thankful for?

It seems like the whole world is full of thanksgiving praises today. Everyone is meaninglessly uttering the words "happy thanksgiving" without giving it much thought. But I can't help but wonder what there is to be thankful for. Sure, many people will point at a zillion things that I could be thankful for today, but none of them seem to matter. I just want my best friend back and I know nothing I do or say will change the fact that she's gone. Forever.

How was I to know that she was already dead inside?
How was I to know when she called me early that morning to thank me for being such a great friend that that would be the last time I heard her voice?
How was I to know when she told me she was sad she wasn't just talking about the usual emotional rollercoaster we all seem to ride at some point?
How was I to know that my best friend was gonna take her own life?

I should have sensed it.
She was my best friend.
She called me to say she missed me and wanted to get together for lunch last week.
But I was too busy.

I was too busy to sit down with my best friend for a lunch that could possibly have saved her life. Her family claims that she was happy and no one could have seen it coming. Everyone's still in shock and the constant police presence, probing questions, and the damn reporters are getting on my nerves.

I knew she was dealing with a lot of things.
I just didn't think it would go that far.
I tried to seek help for her.
I didn't try hard enough.
She didn't even say goodbye.
She didn't leave a note.
I don't know what her last thought was.

I am so overwhelmed right now, I can't think straight. This is the worst week of my life. If one more person sends some stupid text message wishing me a "happy thanksgiving", I'm gonna scream.

I am not happy.
And I am definitely not thankful.
No. Not today.

All I wanna do is curl up in a corner and cry forever.
Cry for my friend and all the pain she endured.
So many things I could have done differently.
But it's too late now.
It's simply too late.

I am having one of "those days". I assume at this point, every female knows exactly what I mean by that statement (sorry for the guys, no way to elaborate further).

A very unfortunate thing happened to one of my friends this past weekend. The kind of thing that makes you wanna scream something like "ALL MEN ARE ASSHOLES", but of course that's absurd, cuz not all men are jerks (this piece of wisdom comes from the fact that I'm in a good relationship. If I were single, it would be a very different statement). Been wanting to blog about it, but it'll probably have several parts to it and I need to embark on the writing when I'm not so mad and incoherent. Instead, I'll write random statements that have nothing to do with anything.
***********************************************************************************
Baby Oil. Who would have thought magic can be found in baby oil? That it can be used to take you to heaven and back? Maybe I'm the only person on the planet that didn't already know this. But now I do. Since I was 18, full body massages from my boyfriends were never delivered without massage oil. I used to have a fetish for massage oil, and if you can name it, I've probably tried it. Everyone I knew who was in a relationship received massage oil for their birthday because I believed they deserved it. The thought of trying something different never even crossed my mind until Steve came up with this silly fantasy: he wanted to see me covered in baby oil cuz he thought it would be sexy (someone's been watching too many music videos). I tried not to poke fun at this and went along with it. Nothing to lose after all. So what started off as slithering baby oil all over my body turned into a full-blown massage, and it was by far the best massage I ever received. Not to mention the fact that it can do a whole lot of other naughty things....I haven't so much as thought of buying massage oil in four months.
***********************************************************************************
This is dumb, but what is the equivalent of a wet dream for females? If I remember my class 6 science (or was it class 5) correctly, males have wet dreams when they have erotic dreams and orgasm in their sleep. Nobody mentioned anything about females experiencing the same thing, and I've never really heard about it. But, I have had orgasms in my sleep (and after a lot of prodding, I've finally gotten some of my friends to admit they have too), and I've never figured out whether this has a name or not. So if you just happen to possess that knowledge, wanna share?

Strange Dream

If dreams are a manifestation of your subconscious thoughts, then mine must be pretty messed up. I just had the strangest dream ever and it's actually quite disturbing. There were a whole bunch of people at a party, none of whom I recognized, but had an intuition that I somehow knew them.

I arrive at the party, which is being held in some kind of park. There are people chattering away all over the place. Someone pulls me over and says that they have the best barbecue ready to eat. They open a life-size oven and pull out the meat and lay it on the grass. Only problem is, the meat turns out to be my younger bro, barbecued from the neck down. He's well done, but his head is intact and he starts talking to me. I stare at him and at the person that pulled him out the oven. The person hands me a hack saw and asks me to start cutting up the "meat". Pretty soon, there's a crowd of people gathered around holding plates, waiting for the meat to be served.

I look at my bro's face and he smiles and nods. I start hacking away at his knee and I suddenly start crying, imagining the pain he must be experiencing. The people around me are cheering, my brother's trying to comfort me, and I'm sawing off his legs and thigh, pulling at the "meat" and crying myself senseless. Then I wake up in a cold sweat.

Tree Climbing

I was reading Jadekitten's post where part of it described the scars she got from her days as a tomboy, and that brought back a painful, albeit funny, memory from my childhood that I had long relegated to the recesses of my subconscious.

I was one of those kids whose parents flew to stato when I was a kid, therefore my bro and I ended up being nomads, moving from one family member to another (don't do this to your children people!!) Technically, my bro and I were raised by my grandma, but she was always sick and hospitalized, making it necessary for miscellaneous aunts and uncles to take us in. I think I've always had that rebellious, non-comforming bone in me, and it was no different when I was a kid.

If you were raised in shags, then you know all the bullshit that went along with gender roles. All the "girls are not supposed to wear pants" and "girls should always sit properly so you don't show men your underwear and seduce them" and "girls are supposed to do this and that". Well, I wasn't having any of it, and I often followed my bro and the "shamba boy" to take the cattle grazing, climb trees to get "maperas" and all that kind of stuff that would send my grandma screaming her head off.

This particular morning, I had done the usual chores around the house; washed dishes, swept the house (where were all the child labor laws? Seriously, I was six years old). While my grandma sat on the mat talking to the neighborhood women, I sneaked out and went to the shamba as usual. There was one particular tree I had been trying to climb all week but I didn't seem to get too far and I was getting tired of my bro laughing at me for being a "girl". I was determined to show him that I was no punk and if he could climb the damn tree, so could I.

So there I was, making good progress. My hands were holding onto a branch as I tried to lift my weight off the ground. One branch, two branches, up and up I went. Then...Shit! I was halfway up the tree when my hand slipped and I started my free fall. Lucky for me, there was a branch in my way that stopped me dead, almost literally. My heart was pounding wildly and the adrenaline rush almost masked the pain that was shooting up my spine, coming from my vagina. Great, just great. My bro started laughing, and like a defeated dog, I carefully got down and limped all the way back to the house.

Something was definitely wrong "down there" and the pain got worse and worse. I knew for a fact that I was in trouble, especially if my grandma found out I was climbing trees. A million different excuses ran through my mind, but none of them seemed good enough, even in my juvenile mind. So I slowly sneaked into the house and went to bed, knowing very well that my grandma would have a heart attack at my blatant display of laziness (a girl's not supposed to sleep during the day when there's work to be done, you know).

Eventually, there was no running from it cuz for one, I couldn't walk properly to save my life. My grandma ended up examining my vagina, and deciding that my injuries were serious enough, took me to her elder sister who practiced herbal medicine. The herbs I had to stick up that hole for a few weeks were enough to repel me from herbs for life. And my grandma made sure I put the herbs where they were supposed to go, going so far as to supervise my pee sessions. I guess there is no privacy where children are concerned.

Jade, thanks for that memory. I smiled all day, and for sure I'm calling my grandma this weekend to remind her how "evil" she used to be...LOL.

Decode This for Me

Ok, it's getting a little too serious with all this religion talk. Good topic F.D, it's been awhile since I seriously thought about religion, but I think I'm so done with that for awhile.

Now, back to Steve. He turned 29 a week ago, and he's one of those "I wanna get married and start a family" type guy (can't exactly blame him, he's probably on freak out mode seeing the big "three-oh" is around the corner). Honestly, when we first started dating, I thought it would be another short fling that would definitely be over after a month cuz I thought he would turn out to be like every other guy I'd dated and start trying to talk me into having sex with him. I usually don't become attached emotionally to guys, and can easily walk away unscathed.

The month came and went. I started experiencing emotions I'd never felt before. Somehow, none of my low expectations of him as a guy panned out. Instead, he turned out to be the kind of guy you wish you'd meet, but don't dare hope for. And so we kept dating. After a few months, he made it clear that he was done being in relationships for a joyride and he was looking for something serious. Ok, that's fine honey, except that I'm not looking for anything serious, let alone marriage, kids, etc at this point in my life. So after weeks and weeks of discussing this, we both decided that we should break up before things got too complicated. God knows how short that break up was. So everytime this topic came up, it ended with the line "we should just break up".

Eventually, we decided that it was useless to even try. Whenever I used to think about my future, I imagined myself as this successful career woman trotting around the globe. Marriage and kids never even crossed my mind. Yet, lately I find myself wondering what marriage would be like. Whether or not I can balance a career and a family successfully without going down the "mommy track" or being a horrible mother to my children. Why on earth am I thinking about this? Steve must be brainwashing me with all this bullshit talk.

Ok, so we're in love, but after next summer, we honestly don't know what direction our relationship will take. For some reason, we both seem to think we'll last that long. For now, we're "just dating" for the heck of it as we wait for our fate, the most depressing one being the possibility that I might move to another state so I can pursue a higher degree. That and the fact that we've both decided we want different things out of this relationship and none of us is willing to compromise, which means we have no future together.

So the other night we were just laying in bed talking about a lot of random stuff, when out of nowhere, Steve asked me this question: "What would you do if I got really serious and asked you to move in with me?" I don't know how I got out of this one, but I somehow ended up dodging the question. Now I need someone to decode the question for me. Is he testing me to see how I feel, or was he joking just to get me all hot and bothered, or was he serious? I do realize this is a dumb question to ask, especially since none of you know Steve, but maybe there's a certain guy code that I don't know about. Fire away!

The Future Diplomat...The Response

Wow, I knew I should have checked this page over the weekend, but was having too much fun to dare go near a computer. Advice of the day: Don't EVER arrange for a 6:00 a.m departure flight, with 50 minutes to connect to the next flight, AND expect to somehow make it to work for a 10 - 14 hour shift of gruelling brain activity three hours later. Chances are, you'll wake up late, nearly miss your departure flight, get a one hour flight delay in Chicago due to weather, miss your connecting flight, and arrive at your destination 2 hours later with only an hour to spare before you start work. All that means you'll have to call in at work and tell them you can only work a half day, no point in even trying to lie that you're sick.

Interesting comments on previous post. I can definitely see F.D and Joe rub each other the wrong way (no pun intended BTW). I will have to say that Joe has a point about going to church and finding sinners (you really didn't need to quote all those verses to make your point, but it's well taken). Only problem is, people act as though it's a crime to be a sinner in church, and you'd think some sins are worse than others when clearly, a white lie is as bad as murder; the perpetrators suffer the same fate. So this business of attacking others is truly pointless cuz I can assure you that all the mud slingers are not entirely blameless, just don't walk around thinking you're better off than the next person.

I will be the first to admit that church and christianity as a whole have had a positive influence on my life, just like Kenyangal and plenty of others, I suspect. If I hadn't had that influence, I don't know where my life would be right now, but I do know that it wouldn't be great. At one point in my life, I actually did believe in God, "felt" his presence, prayed for everything, read my bible everyday, and to epitomize it all, I got baptized. However, whatever it was I was searching for, I never found it in God, and I soon realized that to ME, it made no difference whether I prayed, read the bible, etc or not. Things happened anyway. I stopped going to church for a very short period of time, then realized that I'd never really skipped church and my week was never complete if I didn't take that break. So I kept going. And I still go. It's a comfort thing. Not the kind of comfort that makes me think I'm any less of a sinner cuz I go to church, but the kind of comfort I get when I eat I big fatty rich piece of German chocolate cake. And sometimes when I get sick of the "booty this, booty that" songs on radio, I simply switch to the gospel channel. The music is as relaxing as the R & B I adore.

Q, I admire your courage to step outside of christianity and explore other religions. In the end, sounds like you came right back to christianity, perhaps with a better appreciation for it than you did before. At the back of my mind, I don't question God, the existence of God, or any of the other questions many people struggle with. What I do question is His character. Weird? No, I don't know what kind of loving, caring God sits by and watches his people suffer, yet he does nothing about it when they cry out to him for help. That, right there, is my problem. Quite frankly, I don't care much for what other people in the church are doing. I don't care that Ted Haggard had gay sex, bought meth or did whatever, yet continued to preach. Nobody should let other people's hypocrisy affect their faith; after all, you're not worshipping church pastors, other church members or whatever. You're worshipping God.

Having said all that, I still hate hypocrisy, and that's why I refuse to become one of them. My spiritual life is as messy as my emotional one, yet I can't abandon it all together. Maybe someday God will touch me in that special way that others seem to be touched. In the meantime, I will continue being me with a clean healthy conscious. I will never use religion as an excuse for not doing something. Many people prove over and over that's not very effective and only end up living with guilt. Like Legal Kenya pointed out, this is a topic we can discuss till we drop dead, and nothing will have changed.

Religion and Politics. Everyone has their beliefs and nothing you say or do will change those beliefs. So to each his own. All the same, if you're in the U.S. and can legally vote, go out and exercise this freedom. Let your voice be heard and if you don't, then you have no right to bitch about things later. You have your chance, use it. Steve and I are voting tonight after he gets off work.

Ps. As requested, I'll stick to black font. I'm a colorful individual and the different colors do reflect my mood for the day, but I don't want anyone being blinded, so I oblige. Black only for now, until I can't stand it anymore :)