CM

There should be a name. What is the word for all the times your favorite people disappear in odd circumstances? For all the times you say ‘ Ugh, not again” and curse your luck. For the patience you have. For the feeling your heart can’t explain. For the sinking low into another wave of disappointment knowing that it’s gone, they’re gone and things have changed. Like shattering glass, a burnt body. Things will never be the same again. And it happened so suddenly. It took you unawares like it always does. And you cannot help it. You cannot stop it. It always is this way. What is the name? What is it called when you feel this way?

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L.ZA

I don’t necessarily want to call anything growing pains, but I’m starting to hold on to my knowledge that all things are unstable and fleeting in the same way a grudge would be held unto. There’s just so much inconsistency in this whole sow and you will reap philosophy thing at the moment.

Do we realize that when we’re being told we would reap as it says in the Bible, it isn’t specified that we would reap the same kind of material or even from the same soil? You don’t sow chastity to gain a loving husband. You just might never get married. You don’t sow good words to have it said back to you. In fact, be prepared to hear some nasty, reviling shit. Hardwork doesn’t necessarily get you anywhere, at least not as far as luck and being born in the right environment. This is some Ecclesiastes material. And it looks unfair and feels unfair until you decide to not let this depressing truth weigh you down.

The purpose in life is to find one. Find a non sexual thing you can direct your energy towards, while accepting that everything changes and something will change regularly. You’re not going to be the same, you’re not going to feel the same way about the things you deemed to be permanent and unchanging and lots of unpredictable things will happen to you.

It should be obvious that it’s a disastrously unwise thing to assemble all the subjective experiences of people to create one objective system by which we regularly revise our ideas of how the world works. So just because Samantha felt very much in the depth of her being that sex with her husband was the best thing that ever happened because the weight of commitment took away the shame of being seen in all her imperfections, there exists Jane, equally in the same spot and doing all the right things, for whom this very act has made her feel very insecure just because it is her very private experience which has been coloured by a lot of her life’s happenings, mostly negative ones. Good girl Jane. But of course, we have perpetuated one very rigid narrative for the sole purpose of spreading our incomparably false and unverifiable data to promote out stance on issues we feel we’re morally right on, one that states that it’s all good for those who follow the good principles instead of sticking with our good things and bad things happen to every single one of us philosophy and infact, many times, more bad things happen to good people.

This very moment, everything is changing and we should keep questioning ourselves till we only do exactly what we really believe to be right to avoid feeling resentful for all the things we’ve been told we would get if we did certain things. There is a lot of randomness in our lives afterall…

P.s A short post

I’ve finally come to the end of my Bachelor’s program journey which started hundreds of years ago. To think I’d one day be sitting on a hard stool at a university in Ukraine (Kyiv National Linguistic University) in this very even-numbered year…

It did not occur to me after dropping out from studying medicine, neither did it occur to me on the morning I had spent crying on my bed on the day I’d decided to drop out from my psychology program. When you drop out twice, you become more cautious of anything that promises you academic progress of any kind. For anyone curious, I am sitting on a hard stool because my university’s computer system is broken, making it difficult for me to get final signatures from the accountant. But all things work for the best and I can finally sit to write this blog post.

I imagined I’d feel elated. Instead, I am more relieved than filled with the pure joy of glassy-eyed optimistic students whose lives are still very much meshed into the atmosphere of communal student living. I also recently celebrated my twenty fourth birthday making it a transition across two horizons. In which direction do I move towards is the question at hand. What are my new priorities and goals for myself and how best can I be an individual who is self sufficient in a way that is equally welcoming to love and caring gestures from people, because those things surprisingly have a way of being in conflict with each other. These are the questions that plague my mind on a daily now.

Functionality as an annoyance

Picture drawn by me

Not very often do I sit to assist in myself in being an object of interest in a way that blows my mind off it’s path but sometime in the weeks prior to this one, I wondered out loud in the basement of my mind and all it’s belongings that I must have a pet peeve and it must be the fact that I’m on the way to having a highly functioning life. I wasn’t too surprised to replicate a good meaning gasp at this discovery, never mind my statement of this not occuring as often as it might to some people, because because…

I know I pray too often about growing and developing without thinking much about what this presupposes for me. I think about the prerequisites for another person’s life and I am one to regularly tell people the foundational basis for all their expectations,but tell me for instance, that to be good at speaking or teaching, I’ll need to practice this and for a moment I’ll be bewildered at why you would want to punish me like so. No fair mon ami 😮. But this has been a resounding message that I’ve come across in the words of my favorite preachers in the past few months (Sarah Jakes, Micheal Todd and Steven Furtick). They insist rather too regularly to allow me some comfort in my state of passivity that to expect anything, or rather, the act of expectation requires a stepping out in doing. One does not acquire any skills and protection from sitting on a couch asking for protection from a battle that has not even been initiated. You need to take up arms or at the very least be present in whatever situation.

There’s a thought I’ve had to look closely upon concerning how much I try to insist that my life must follow a certain pattern. I think they world has a model on which other generic models are being moulded from. To play it safe in this way is appealing even though sometimes I experience the sensation similar to the one which causes the making of statements such as “he/she was ready to risk it all” found in much more risque situations. What I mean here however is that I’ve wondered about how much I might be suppressing my own unique adventures because a lot of what I consider my life has not followed the pattern of other lives I see around me. I am twenty three and have stopped looking as much at similarities in other lives, but I am yet to fully embrace what comes to me. Some things are easier for me in my life, some harder. There is a tendency to want to apologize for what is easier as I look for the catch because I do not see this happening in other people’s lives. This is something I need to stop.

But of course, I still stress a lot whilst singing “if He did it before, He will do it again” . There are similarities between me and the children of Isreal who complain two seconds after a victory. I still think God favours me while wondering why He is so slow to catch up with my memo and when , if ever things will ever be as I want. I look back however to see if I have been stretched in ways that is transforming me from ‘glory to glory’ as it says in the bible. I notice sometimes that even that is too slow for me and causes me much frustration and a heavy heart. In my fantasy world, all stretching would occur without my participation. I’ve been very present in this world, never escaping beyond the limits of what is available to me in Jesus but sometimes I wish I too could escape for hours apart from sleeping when I am tired.

It is April in the end. A month I’ve been waiting for a long time. So much is happening and will happen this month and I’ve decided to allow the miracle of thankfulness be part of this month in large portions.

That’s all I have to say 😺

Our distinguished tailbone

In the much ado about things era, what really is there to interest us about a tailbone? Five and a half out of five people need to research just what this bone is and where it is located, seeing as it sparks controversial imagery solely at the feet and mercy of what would naturally be imagery of an animal’s tail. How, how… do we have a tailbone when we are made in the image of God and are the head? Strangely, in the world of many wonders, even as you admit that seven would be a number relegated to the minimal number of occurrences, such things exist.

The tailbone is located beneath the spinal cord. That is as far as I would go in biology before being accused of diving into error. What matters most is that pain around the tailbone hurts and like I mentioned recently, on a scale of one to childbirth pain, it exceeds it. I would know this because i happen to be one member of the feminine race who recently had this bestowed upon her. Distinguished sense of feeling, to say the least( wherein I dive into the lol terrain).

As the on-going tradition of writing my examinations for the first semester of a New year has never been broken, even with recurring anxiety and bits and scraps of bronchitis and pneumonia to spice up an already busy couple of weeks, I’d been curiously on the look out to protect myself from anything which would harm me. The winter had been mild for many weeks, I’d been feeling really disgusted with the little effort it put in being vicious, as well as equally satisfied with the way my examinations has been going that I’d scoffed at the dull pain that had begun to pain? on the Saturday before the Wednesday of this week. I took a few pain killers and kept on going to my university with high hopes that it’ll disappear like a pimple, but alas…

A pepper plaster does nothing to take away swelling around your tail bone and if by now, this still reads scientific, I mean it does nothing to take away the pain around your butt. That should clear things up. We proceed. The pain killers helped in making me ignore the swelling enough to write all my papers but one. On the 24th,after an exam, I thought I’d die because I needed to take more pain killers than usual and I could feel a lump that scared the fear of not passing an exam out of me. My thoughts went in the order of ambulance, injection and right now. Surgery at that point had not crossed my mind. I had no idea.

My aunt and her husband picked me up at the bus station and we went to where ambulances usually go to. We were told to see a surgeon since it wasn’t too late in the evening. The painkillers had taken away the pain I should have felt from human touch, so my surgeon(wherein I make excuses for him) said I should rub some balm/mask and take an antibiotic and that if it got worse I should come back in the morning. Night came with a fever of 39.0 and an inability to walk. I took a post operative painkiller and we went to the hospital where I was told it was my tailbone. It was bent and had been for a while and only recently had it decided to collect infected fluid and cause so much pain. That was goodbye to my final paper for the semester.

Surgery was slated for the same day. My aunt says it lasted for forty minutes. I slept in the hospital for two days but now I am home and only go to get cleaned and have new dressings done. The surgeon cut deep, but the pain has reduced considerably; gone infact, though I sit with care and not for long and I still have a constant temperature of 37.2 which I’ve been told are as a result of having a heart that needs proper treatment. I have a new handbag, a new usb cable, a new relationship with my cat, my grandma has a new crystal inserted in her eye after her cataract treatment. I (we all do) have a new experience with living that I have barely exhausted with a post that barely scratches the surface, but I thought I should share a little before I slept today, so there ☺

It was just like yesterday

2017 was just like yesterday. Obviously,I should be forgiven for thinking about this year in past tense already but I have a headache and my photoshop does not have animator so there is nothing to do but read my old 2016 post here

First of all, I am struck  by how I found the number seven to be a novel number. Makes me want to roll my eyes now. what optimism! Such great hopes lol. So not fleshed out in the way it has always appeared in my head. I thought I’d had long term life plans written in that post only to find them sounding commonplace and easily not memorable.

To summarize what I do think about my resolutions post in one line, I’d say it was much ado about nothing. It was not grand enough to  cause a climax even if followed meticulously. It certainly doesn’t feel like a warranted a post of it’s own or maybe I have grown to diminish the importance of what I wrote.

I have lost interest in telling what I want to achieve and am more interested what i have achieved. And the highlight of my year has been rediscovering my drawing talent. I would share them here as I have done already on twitter if I had’t lost the enthusiasm few seconds before typing the last line. Drawing has consumed my mind much more than writing or reading. I fear I might be entering a realm of mish mashy–this is not a word- state of not caring meticulously about the informationizing of myself. It’s been less controlled and restricted, more nuanced as  I go long stretches without touching a link or some book. I recently joined a reading book club so maybe you shouldn’t believe my lack of interest so readily ei. But with that being said, i have to add that I have been thinking in terms of a Wacom graphics tablet and since we’ve all been proclaiming things recently after khalid’s win at the grammy’s,  I say it’ll be nice to have one in addition to my asus tablet for drawing.

What’s been happening lately? Well, I have a month before my exam and before I dye my hair whilst hoping it doesn’t fall out like that news about a white girl who used a relaxer on her hair because sigh, sigh, sigh, what was she thinking?  All that as well as nothing much like me finally getting the basics of html, Css and javascript.

And just because…and in case anyone is wondering what I’ve learnt this year, it is that nothing is definite and we should not make promises of things we cannot control. That and some other things which I have spoken of already on twitter which i’m again, too lazy to recap here.

 

See everyone in the new year or whenever, if God wills .

 

A moment

 

I’ve been bugged, really been bothered, in an absolutely bothersome way to  write today. At any moment, the gates of whatever would have been opened and I would have payed dearly, in ways that I know not of, for not having listened to the call to write,which just goes to prove that the call to write is not really a myth, it is the mantle of Elijah, something that manifests inself into a burden, which in effect leaves me writing. I have been called to write today, is simply how I would paraphrase these lines, but you know that already.

I know my favourite thing to write on earth is about who I have become, like entrails from a deer. Why not a horse? Why entrails? I have absolutely no idea, because, remember again if you will, I have merely been called to write again today, and that is exactly what I am doing; writing as I have always done,in days previous to this one. Similar to it but not quite it. About what then? Well…

On who I have become. Someone out there says we become and never return to what we have evolved from. Someone talks about stages and we know there is no land of return, because a change implicitly leaves us altered and explicitly, yes, truely there are new vocalizations attained, of our temperaments, outlooks on life…I was meant to be talking about myself. I forgot.

I could say I have become(been) blurred(out) like a melted piece of crayon, not chalk. There is the maybe..maybe I should read more , to write more, but this begs the question of what effectiveness there is to having  words written. With eyes that have fasted from paper, from the thriftiness of obsessive expression, an apparel like no other, one that demands in ways that leaves you without understanding as to why…

I have written. I know that it was necessary as the spirit beckoned. It is written