Beautiful Creation of The Lord.

Haiii there,
Well I don’t even know if there’s a “there” to hey, I don’t think anyone reads this blog but, aduncurr. I know this isn’t my first post, but it is my first post in over 8 months and I’m just realizing that the name I used for this blog is totally useless. I’m in no way a fascist but, I am however misguided. Today’s post is two sided. You can totally ignore the next paragraph and start with the last one okays?
Who am I ? well, if I knew the answer that question I would not be running a blog. What I do know about myself is that, I am an 18 year old Disney fanatic who enjoys watching cartoons, anime, old classic movies, and other stuff. I also listen to a variety of music including jazz and Raggae. Oh and I draw and play a lot of video games. I go to the University of Waterloo and my majors are business and digital arts with a minor in studio art but I am meaning to transfer to Architecture and have that and studio arts as majors with a minor in business admin (over achiever? yep, that’s me). The thing is, I’ve always felt that I am a genius cos, I’ve always excelled at whatever I’ve tried to do but, I’d rather be designing stuff for a living than going into an office every day, staring at notes and a computer and having to do the same thing over and over such a monotonous life, like Nigerian Music. Well, with that statement, I’d also like to state that I am Nigerian (half btw). Oh and an important fact, I am a Christian not just by the name, but I actually decided to live my life according to God’s principles this year. That doesn’t mean I am less of a teenager or I’m a party pooper. I’m still an 18 year old girl after all. I like to enjoy myself, I just don’t go over the edge. Personally, I don’t really like parties or alcohol, I just feel they are overrated and all the same but, I will go for a party with my franns.

Let there be dreadlocks, and there was a beautiful creature.
Last week was Midterm week at school and for UWaterloo students, that’s death week. Basically, last week I was a dead person, cut off from the world literally. I didn’t reply anyone (well, I usually don’t reply people anyways). So, the story is about this one night, I was in the library I had a midterm the next day. It was a Psych midterm and I had 8more chapters (out of 22) to study. (My psych prof is funny little guy that thinks he has little green people in his head who tell him what to do. Funny homie but a bitch with exams). Anyways, I was sitting on one of those tables with five chairs and there was no one sitting on the table with me. So, here I am studying like the good hard working student I am and I get a whiff of something that smells so wonderful at 10pm. I look up naturally and standing right there was some beautiful work of God with long-ass dread locks. This beautiful creature was standing with his back to me so, I couldn’t really tell if he was wonderfully made or not but, in movies, boys with dreads tend to be beautiful and he smelled so nice. I’m staring at his black bag and his locks hoping and praying that he would turn so I could take in his face. As if on cue, Mr. Locks turns and I see him. Chai he was a beaut. I started thanking God for creating such then it hit me – I looked as ratchet as lil’ kim on the red carpet. Fam, I know God said we are all wonderfully and fearfully made but, I was just fearfully made at that point. I stopped staring immediately and faced my books. This creature decided that my table was the best place to sit at. Well, apparently, it was the only available table as uwaterloo students are animals with the library as their zoo. I felt so embarrassed that when he said, “hey can I sit here”, I just nodded and kept on staring at my books. I couldn’t concentrate again fam. It took me like 30 minutes to finish reading one page and I am a slow reader when it comes to textbooks. For like a hour, I was disoriented not because the boy was fine but because it was Waterloo and you don’t see a beautiful male specie too often and also because I looked frightful. To cut the long story short, some other guy (not as beautiful) came to sit with us, apparently him and this other nigga “knew” each other. Fam they “knew”each other. Let me explain; My pencil fell and I bent under the table to go get it and what I saw next made me face my books faster than I picked up the pencil. These boys were holding hands and caressing each others hands. I hit my head against the table while getting up. It was so funny. WHY DO THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME. so anyway guys, the moral of this story is to always appreciate the beauty of God’s creations. Goodbye people.

Different Sides

Things are never what they seem.

Things are not what they appear. 

Sweet but yet, so sour

Good but yet, so bad

Humble but yet, so vain

Like eve, we are deceived by the beauty, the greatness of what might await us,

Like Adam we have fallen temptation’s prey

Like Israel, we are and still will beg for redemption. 

Truth.

I can feel myself, slowly, desperately wheeling back into that pool of depression. I thought you had cured it, or that you would cure it. I guess, some things aren’t just meant to go away. There are some things that we can’t just run from. Its time I accept that, time I stop trying to change what might or could happen. No, rather what should happen. You cannot change what is going be, what is. You can only hope that things will go your way. But, the human race is so selfish. Everyone always wants things to go their way. But if everyone wants things to go their way, then nothing would go the way it was planned. Everything has been planned, orchestrated, to go in a particular manner. We can’t all be pleased, that is the saddest part. We just have to suck it up, and know that sometimes, things won’t go the way we want them to. That should not stop us from being who we want to. 

Thoughts.

This is not the continuation of the first story, This is however, just thoughts that have been on my mind lately. 

Do you believe that people where put in your life for a reason? Well, I do, or at least I thought I did. One thing however I know is, if someone is not meant to be in your life, the person will be removed and never come back. If someone is meant to be in your life, no matter how many fall outs you have with the person, he/she will always, always find his/her way back into you life. There is no such thing as “true friends” I believe. We are all humans and obviously are bound to disappoint someone at least once or twice in life. So, don’t blame someone for not being as perfect as you want them to be. No one is perfect, we all strive for perfection but, we have not attained it yet. But, we keep striving towards it, in hopes that one day, we would attain this perfection. I know I do. 

No title yet, I just let my hands and mind take me.

      The Apparent Present.

There are sometimes when I feel totally and utterly alone, alone in this world, alone to face my problems by myself. At such times, I usually just sit on my bed and stare. I don’t stare at anything in particular. I just stare, into the abyss. No thoughts run through my mind as I stare, it’s like I’m barely alive. In some ways it actually feels kind of good, peaceful you know, because I don’t get to worry about anything, I don’t get to think about anything, I just stare. Then I feel something pull me back to the real world, the world of worries and problems, it’s funny, because for some minutes, I get to feel as if nothing matters. But things do matter. I am reminded of that as I am gradually pulled back to reality by that stabbing pain just beneath my collar bone, in my chest, that feeling I believe is called loneliness. I am reminded of how worthless I am. But the truth is I am not really worthless am I? Of course not. No one is ever truly worthless. We all have a purpose for living, a purpose for being alive. No one is insignificant. We are here for a reason. I think on all these, and suddenly, I feel something wet trickle down my face, a tear. I say out loud, “why am I crying?” I ask the question like I’m talking to someone. The silence that follows reminds me that I’m still here, and I’m still alone. How could I have thought I would get an answer, after all, I’m alone, unwanted, not needed. I begin to doubt myself. Maybe I lied. Maybe people could be not needed. Maybe one person couldn’t make a difference after all. At this point, I can’t control those tiny salty wet things anymore. What was just like the flow of a small lake became like the rush of a great river, an ocean even. I drag myself to the table, to the chair. I bring out this dusty notebook, a book I haven’t opened in years, and I begin to write. I do not know where the words come from. All I know is that I write. The tears show no mercy as they begin to pour out even more. But still, I write. I have always buried my sorrows in my writing. It brings me hope, brings me satisfaction. But dare I feel hopeful at this time? Hope has eluded me. There was no hope for me, I didn’t deserve it. But what if I do deserve hope? After all it is hope, it is meant for everybody right? Well maybe for everybody, but not just for me. I drop the pen slowly, meticulously, like it’s some sort of ritual. I look up to find someone that looked like me stare at me from the mirror. Who was this person? I didn’t recognize her. Was she the all loving girl, the one who cared about everyone, the one who was loved by all, the less lonely one? No. This wasn’t her. This isn’t her. This girl is washed up and alone. All alone, with no redemption.

Then I think to myself again. What did I actually do to think of myself in this way? What was so bad that I had no redemption from? Was this all in my head? Was I imagining all these thoughts? Was I imagining everything that I had done or that I thought I had done? Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I wasn’t washed up as I thought I was. But what did I know? I was just a tiny, little girl, who could barely lift a finger. But I was more than that. Wasn’t I? Something strikes me, an old memory I hear a woman saying ‘you are more than this. You are great and so much more.’ Or maybe I was still imagining that too. I wasn’t sure anymore. In fact, I couldn’t even remember a time when I was sure I was sure of anything. But deep down inside me, I know I remembered the truth. That small sentence, or rather sentences. Someone had actually said that to me. It wasn’t just some twisted idea or notion I had in my head. Sometime, in another life if not this, I meant something to someone. I was relevant. I was needed. Maybe I wasn’t always alone. Maybe I am not alone at this very moment. Maybe I imagined all of it, the loneliness, the pain, the tears, the writing, all of it. Or maybe I was imagining myself imagining that I was needed. Maybe it was still all a lie I made up to feel good about myself.  Maybe. I hated that word.