tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50653312674526042942024-03-05T10:02:13.694+00:00Altius TendoThe ruminations, discoveries, rantings, and loves of a lost soul just trying to find her way in the worldSankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-56069959575037722011-02-02T17:18:00.000+00:002011-02-02T17:18:53.016+00:00Bleurgh!I feel as though I have so much to say and it's (figuratively) bursting at the seams. Strangely, I don't feel like sharing for a while yet. I'm trying very hard not to let this blog be a place of doom and gloom so I'll be back when I'm happier. I've been miserable for the last two months or so and I'm tired of pretending to be happy so I'm actively working on making myself happy at the moment. My darling Adele's been keeping me company. She's totally like a friend (in my head :-D) Here's one of my favourite tracks (along with 'Turning Tables') called 'Someone Like You' from her new album '21'. Hope you enjoy and keep me in your prayers. I'll bounce back, I just know it.<br />
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I'm adding 'Hometown Glory' as a bonus. This was the very first song she ever wrote at the age of 16 and if you've never heard this sublime ode to London, you're welcome!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="youtube-player" frameborder="0" height="510" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/07_K_RTGxjU" title="YouTube video player" type="text/html" width="640"></iframe>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-7169203124489610072010-12-04T15:57:00.000+00:002010-12-04T15:57:07.031+00:00When they crawl out of the woodworkWhy is it that every time you decide to just focus on the rest of your life and give love a rest that old faces come crawling out of the woodwork?<br />
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I went out on a few dates while I was living in Ghana and I was actually in a relationship with somebody for a few months but I didn't blog about it for some reason. I can be very protective of my relationships and I think I still live in perpetual fear that somebody I'd rather stay away will stumble on this blog sooner or later. Oh well, let's embrace the fear. Let's call this one <b style="color: #38761d;">Koforidua Boy</b>. I first went to Koforidua with my parents when I first arrived in Ghana in October and only really saw my grandparents whom I hadn't seen in over 15 years. I didn't see many of my cousins as they were in various places and I was only there for the one night. Fast forward a couple of months to Christmas eve '09 and my Dad calls me from Atlanta:<br />
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<b>Dad: </b>Are you going to Koforidua for Christmas?<br />
<b>Me:</b> Erm I wasn't planning on it....<br />
<b>Dad: </b>Well do you know your cousin is getting married and I think it would be <i>really </i>good if you went. It starts at 7 a.m. the day after Christmas. (His way of telling me I have no choice in the matter)<br />
<b>Me: </b>I guess I can cancel all my other plans and make the likely to be 2hr trek at 5a.m. on Boxing Day to go to the wedding of a cousin I barely remember. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see a cousin she hasn't seen since she was about 7 on her special day when all the attention should be on her. (KMT)<br />
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Obvious sarcasm aside, I made the trek to Koforidua after only having about 6 hours combined sleep in the two days prior and I was happily treated like a museum display object when I arrived. As hard as it it to believe, I can be painfully shy especially around people I don't really know. I know that I was amongst my family but I didn't really feel like I <i>knew</i> them at the time. After hearing various re-tellings of the "funny" things I used to do as a child and how much I'd 'changed' (i.e. how did you get so fat?) the midday sun started to make me faint and I was ordered inside to rest. It seems I'd allowed the air-conditioning I was used to in Accra to make me soft- how embarrassing.<br />
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After my "rest", which had turned into a two-hour nap, I came downstairs to catch the engagement in full flow. My cousin's only a couple of years younger than me and her husband's my age so there were loads of people my age who had traveled from far and wide to make it to my cousin's big day. I soon as I stepped outside I saw him. He was 6"3, athletic build, beautiful eyes etc. etc. The works. I couldn't take my eyes off him and this horrified me! I'm usually the queen of playing it cool but I know he caught me staring at him at least twice. The next day, wedding festivities finally over, we were invited for luck at my cousin's new in-laws house and this somehow led to a game of musical chairs. To cut a long story short, <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Koforidua Boy</span></b> and I ended up being the last people standing and in our mad rush for the last chair, I ended up falling right on top of him. Humiliation aside, it was all in good fun and served the purpose of breaking the ice between us. The "grown-ups" amongst us decided to continue our party at a local bar and after several Alvaros, Stars, akonfem and kebabs, <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Koforidua Boy</span> </b>asked me when I was going back to Accra. I told him I was leaving the next day and we exchanged numbers. I was playing Miss. Cool but I felt like jumping up and down in excitement. I went back to Accra for a few days and came back to Koforidua for New Year's Eve. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Koforida Boy</span></b> and I had been talking to each other every day and he'd made no secret of the fact that he wanted to date me properly. He'd already asked me twice but I'd said "no" partly out of a fear of dating after <b><a href="http://altiustendo.blogspot.com/2009/09/musician.html">The Musician</a></b> and partly out of pure 'shakara'. Anyway by New Year's Eve I thought "new year, new beginnings' so I finally said yes.<br />
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As usual everything was wonderful at first until they spectacularly fell apart a couple of months later. The reasons are far too convoluted to go into detail here but they boiled down to these:<br />
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<b>Her: </b>He still had some growing up to do and was far too sensitive. He'd go on like I had drowned his puppy if I ever told him something he didn't want to hear. I was a straightforward person when he met me so why would I change now? I felt he was used to girls falling all over him and girls willing to do whatever he wanted just because he was good looking (those Central University girls know who they are...). I also felt that he didn't make enough time for me. He lived /went to uni in Tema while I lived right at the end of the Tema/ Accra motorway so I didn't accept distance as an excuse.<br />
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<b>Him</b>: He said I was too harsh at times and that I "nagged".<br />
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Anyway, I broke up with him, which went down like a lead balloon. His first utterance was "nobody's ever broken up with me before" to which I answered "there's a first time for everything" and we decided to go our separate ways. After this everybody and their mother decided to get involved and we went from a semi-amicable split to outright acrimony. We continued in this vein and I started dating somebody else. We had no contact until the day before I left Ghana. He randomly called me to "check on me" and I informed him I was leaving Ghana the following day. He claimed he was hurt that I hadn't called to tell him I was leaving earlier and he'd wanted to give our relationship another chance etc. etc.<br />
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Needless to say, I moved back to London and we had intermittent contact until a few days ago. <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Koforidua Boy</span></b> has now decided we're destined to be together and we should be dating. I know my description of him doesn't sound like it but I genuinely like this guy. Apart from the things that bug me about him, he's a lovely person who's extremely intelligent, focused, ambitious and very good-looking to boot. He basically ticks all my boxes. However, how are you going to tell me you're ready to be in a relationship with me again when we're 3,000 odd miles away from each other? I can't do long-distance relationships although I have nothing but admiration for those who can.<br />
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I went to Atlanta two months ago and I saw my ex-boyfriend whom I dated for years (and who broke my heart) and he was hinting at the two of us rekindling our relationship. I also seem to have semi-rekindled my <b><a href="http://altiustendo.blogspot.com/2009/09/musician.html">Musician</a></b> habit so this whole <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">Koforidua Boy</span></b> debacle is in addition to all of this. I guess men really are like buses- you wait ages for one and then three come along at once.<br />
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Is there some kind of secret law that means men come crawling our of the woodwork just when you decide to focus on yourself? Forget all of these exes, why can't I just meet someone new?!<br />
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<b>Currently listening to: <i>All of the lights</i>- Kanye West (The whole of <i>My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy</i> is excellent)</b>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-71826344369972196382010-11-11T23:27:00.000+00:002010-11-11T23:27:39.985+00:00I'm still hereI apologise profusely for abandoning my blog in such a shameful manner. When I first moved back to London from Ghana, I wasn't really in the mood to write as I was too busy moping around and missing Ghana. Once I finally got my blogging mojo back, I was just starting a new Masters degree in International Relations and I just didn't seem to have the time. Well I still don't seem to have the time but I'm tired of thinking to myself "I must blog about this" and so here I am. I have a lot to say (as usual) and it will all come out in due time.<br />
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Thank you to all the followers who haven't abandoned me and I'm looking forward to interacting with the blogosphere once more. I'll leave you with this great rendition of the one and only <b>Nina Simone</b>'s "Four Women" by Kelly Price, Marsha Ambrosius (formerly of Floetry), Jilly from Philly (Jill Scott) and my girl Ledisi (get her album STAT!).<br />
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<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pQBpYwiD11A?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pQBpYwiD11A?fs=1&hl=en_US&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-22689591981333909632010-06-21T10:24:00.000+01:002010-06-21T10:24:20.807+01:00Cape Coasting ByI finally managed to find some time this past weekend to go to Cape Coast. I haven't been to too many places since I came to Ghana as work usually left me far too shattered to do anything else. My frequents trips to Koforidua aside, I think my fleeting trip to Kumasi is the only one I've undertaken. Another deterrent to these trips was not having anybody to go with. After last weekend, I really regret using this as an excuse. Next time I want to go somewhere, I'm just gonna do it. Screw waiting for other people to help me fulfill me heart's desires!<br />
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Anyway, back to Cape Coast. I was talking to a colleague who's doing a summer programme at the University of Cape Coast (UCC) and I mentioned to him that it was a shame I'd never made it there. He suggested that I should come to visit and after "hmmming" and "erming" for a while (he fancies me) I jumped on an STC for an overnight visit. I was pleasantly surprised by the STC buses. They were air-conditioned, not too confining, and you could entertain yourself with a shit Nigerian film should you so desire. I didn't.<br />
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The trip took about two and a half hours as the bus was quite slow and I saw many of the famed Cape Coast boardings schools along the the way. The UCC campus is nothing like the Legon campus which is all white buildings and red clay. UCC seemed more green and "foresty" for a lack of a better word. Didn't do much that day as I arrived around 5:30 and all I wanted to do was watch the England match (colossal waste of time there!). So Saturday morning my colleague gave me a quick tour of the campus and we headed to Cape Coast castle for what I knew would be a depressing tour. Our tour guide, Oscar, was great with the seven people in our group and he was extremely patient and knowledgeable in answering any questions we threw at him. My colleague and I were the only Ghanaians in a group of Black Americans and strangely their reaction to the things we saw made me sadder to the things themselves. Does that make sense? I mean it was horrible seeing the conditions the slaves were held in but one of the American women completely lost her shit when we were shown a cell for dissenting slaves who were condemned to die. There were still marks on the floor and walls where the slaves had tried to scratch their way our with their shackles but the teeth marks where desperation had made them tried to gnaw their way out did it for me (and her). She sat on the floor and caressed the marks whilst sobbing uncontrollably. Man that was enough for me and I was glad when the tour ended soon after. Stupid me forgot to bring a camera so the camera on my phone had to do. I snapped some pics as best as I could.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZDZ5kMIoFLXBmuGZFSV4gXhLKscy_EPjHhjkiYPhThRZ8hcIZMb4m23noDXXvCvFDgYlYOll52sBE9CEEBZSTn4mAenFYYy0A8OqZk-LYCxpPAkk_Yb51bU8curyIuWGqYN-oNDCUp8/s1600/Image0152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZDZ5kMIoFLXBmuGZFSV4gXhLKscy_EPjHhjkiYPhThRZ8hcIZMb4m23noDXXvCvFDgYlYOll52sBE9CEEBZSTn4mAenFYYy0A8OqZk-LYCxpPAkk_Yb51bU8curyIuWGqYN-oNDCUp8/s320/Image0152.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
The <b>Door of No Return</b> where slaves passed before they went on the ships.<br />
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The floor of the cell scratched my condemned slaves. The tiny window-less room<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0ZIT8P24mCN7A9eD8Ba1GKQ6P82CYCnzNMuX4YZ-u3d1GKmt5C4K6idKBUjyzxf2LgF_7-P51T2KAUwdacVpjXNgISNQMvRaF8vzEXl_LwVUfw7-9Vn6tQASwPp6W6jMvU2TfRtAtWQ/s1600/Image0159.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0ZIT8P24mCN7A9eD8Ba1GKQ6P82CYCnzNMuX4YZ-u3d1GKmt5C4K6idKBUjyzxf2LgF_7-P51T2KAUwdacVpjXNgISNQMvRaF8vzEXl_LwVUfw7-9Vn6tQASwPp6W6jMvU2TfRtAtWQ/s320/Image0159.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>often had about eighty men stuffed into it, who were left to die. The slave masters didn't bother removing the dead bodies until the last slave had died.<br />
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I acted like a typical tourist and bought some cool paintings before I had lunch at the <b>Castle Restaurant</b> which is right next to the castle. Their seafood was amazing and coupled with an ice-cold Star beer and the amazing view, it was hard to think of anyplace I'd have rather been. The beach at Cape Coast was gorgeous and nothing like the filthy messes masquerading as beaches in Accra. Cape Coast is very much a fishing town and people were friendly in general. However, people trying to force you to part with your money is as common there as it is in Accra. Why are people always flipping begging for money, especially from the people they can single out as non-locals? I had to <i>tell</i> one man about himself after he spent 20 minutes pestering me to buy a Ghana hat I neither needed nor wanted. KMBT.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29Uw3Zyf6ND70zh4kya383-LtfGmIBtJ3atf5p14AtLuenQy5ksNiUTWHcZooulSRGigp9sOzOXS9eVcEo8vROvYvNbfOki1Tq6XLVtauF5D8ue1qz_O-zta-VXYwKFrP95dCU0XClMk/s1600/Image0161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29Uw3Zyf6ND70zh4kya383-LtfGmIBtJ3atf5p14AtLuenQy5ksNiUTWHcZooulSRGigp9sOzOXS9eVcEo8vROvYvNbfOki1Tq6XLVtauF5D8ue1qz_O-zta-VXYwKFrP95dCU0XClMk/s320/Image0161.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Anyway, I'm rambling now in what was intended to be a short post. I'll just add that I've never felt more peace in my life as I did sitting on that beach, staring at the sea. There's something about the sea that always calms me for some reason. It makes me realise just how amazing God is and also makes me kind of small (but in a good way). My planned to trip to Elmina Castle and Kakum National Park, just a few kilometres away from Cape Coast didn't happen as I wanted to catch the Ghana match and I had had enough depressing tours for the day. I know I'll definitely be back though so I'll do all the other touristy things then.<br />
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Here are the paintings I picked up after haggling for about half an hour.They were ridiculously cheap though and I love them so no complaints here!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpc7Dc-hJOcqd_UrbfHKkcfRFnvrVyv1kel6NBPyMAi4AgIuxiiBiPSrolgqUhY4VlVkP-M1JQVSphIqrKWzVIfPuxoEhJYDQk5gNc0VU2GEL6vbB3N4G0NogcXt6h401LcpNJr_JaMY/s1600/Image0181.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpc7Dc-hJOcqd_UrbfHKkcfRFnvrVyv1kel6NBPyMAi4AgIuxiiBiPSrolgqUhY4VlVkP-M1JQVSphIqrKWzVIfPuxoEhJYDQk5gNc0VU2GEL6vbB3N4G0NogcXt6h401LcpNJr_JaMY/s320/Image0181.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlRAHTODb0u3_aVrvs_-dHSoF-NSzFpgp_wvJ7HF2dPVmYaAzxthFsAtaaEHQOHfGR8Z7zau5h2hhupUHPoxoq0TnSAABrEuntWqazP2T3fdwXXVk3viG1SmcDgLJ0zX2M7U_uoVM75s/s1600/Image0178.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdlRAHTODb0u3_aVrvs_-dHSoF-NSzFpgp_wvJ7HF2dPVmYaAzxthFsAtaaEHQOHfGR8Z7zau5h2hhupUHPoxoq0TnSAABrEuntWqazP2T3fdwXXVk3viG1SmcDgLJ0zX2M7U_uoVM75s/s320/Image0178.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhapA3We_F-JRLrmmBYeGgnV6xS0DcZwxoa1MGFZemjj517QYKRHZ2coTEkMaSzZ5GK1yus7qr_VyQZltZNMacmzbSz5xiBSnTG7V_c0-b-GbZRrsUCM9MuFcbVCUIH29wQJZWFwT9fOts/s1600/Image0179.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhapA3We_F-JRLrmmBYeGgnV6xS0DcZwxoa1MGFZemjj517QYKRHZ2coTEkMaSzZ5GK1yus7qr_VyQZltZNMacmzbSz5xiBSnTG7V_c0-b-GbZRrsUCM9MuFcbVCUIH29wQJZWFwT9fOts/s320/Image0179.jpg" /></a></div>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-58164400954946461562010-06-18T02:22:00.000+01:002010-06-18T02:22:23.010+01:00Girlfriend's BoyfriendThe song "Girfriend's Boyfriend" by Gwen McRae just popped up on my iPod and it brought back memories bwoy! This was my anthem for Michaelmas and Lent terms 96-97 at my boarding school in Sussex.<br />
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Have you ever had the misfortune of having a <i>serious</i> crush on a friend's man? If not then count your lucky stars! The lucky fella was <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">J.E.</span></b>- a pimply-faced, hair-in-curtains having, feet- dragging, thirteen-year old who was in a relationship with my good Serbian friend <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">M.J.</span> </b>Now, typically for me at the time, I revelled in the whole unrequited love angst at the time. I used to listen to sad songs like <b>"Nobody Knows"</b> by the Tony Rich Project and devoted pages upon tear-soaked pages to this saddo in my diary. To make things worse, M.J. was a complete sweetheart so I couldn't even hate her to make myself feel better. I was also really good "friends" with J.E. and acted as their mediator whenever they had one of their (frequent) fights or break-ups.<br />
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Now in the Lent term of '96 I was enjoying some "wallow in your own self-pity" time in my dorm, chilling on the bottom bunk, writing in my diary all on some "I LOVE J.E" nonsense. "Pure Swing IV" (I can't be the only one who remembers these music compilations!) had just come out and the song<b> "Girlfriend's Boyfriend"</b> was on it. I was listening to the CD on my DISCMAN (remember those?!) and I couldn't believe my ears. Who was this person and why were they singing about my 13 yr-old life?! I listened to the song on repeat for damn near an hour and I was so engrossed that I didn't even notice that M.J, who slept in the top bunk above mine, was leaning over and reading everything I had just written on the page. Yes, the very same page I'd just scrawled <b>"I LOVE J.E"</b> all over. When I finally realised, "mortified" is not even the word to describe how I felt. To compound matters, M.J. was so damn nice about it! Patronising as hell, to be sure, but she kindly pretended that my crush didn't exist. She told me to forget about it and just kept it moving. In hindsight that kind of maturity in a mere 13 yr old is damn rare in some full-grown <i>adults</i> these days. Maybe it's because she had come from a war-torn Yugoslavia so everything else was a cakewalk to her....<br />
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My crush quickly died a deserved death after that and M.J. and J.E. broke up two weeks later but it left a real impression on me. I've been so damn paranoid of getting too close to any friend's man since. I'm one of those people that if I like you, I <i>really</i> like you so I just like to keep them "hello and goodbye" kind of relationships with my friends' boyfriends as much as I can to avoid any kind of potential drama. So as I leave you with the dulcet tones of Gwen McRae (I originally thought it was a man singing this song. A man who had fallen in love with his "Girlfriend's boyfriend" O_O), have you ever been in hers or my position?<br />
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<blockquote><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">"What would she do if she knew that I'm crazy in love with you?"</span></b></blockquote>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-11211179825596962302010-06-10T11:15:00.000+01:002010-06-10T11:15:24.192+01:00Things I'm not proud of<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Do you ever get one of those moments when you remember something you once did and just think "I can't believe I did that!"? Well i just had one of those moments.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">It was a few years ago and I'd just moved back from the ATL to the LDN. I was happily minding my own business on the bus after an afternoon of retail therapy (shopping was all I did that summer) when I felt somebody staring at me. I turned to see an insanely hot, tall guy smiling at me. I quickly put my screwface on (it's automatic) and stared out of the window. I got off at my stop and coincidentally (or not...) so did the guy. He does the whole "you look familiar, have we met before?" spiel and I roll my eyes and keep it moving. We're just making small talk in the middle of the street and I notice with increasing horror that this man has a <i>mean</i> lisp. This was compounded by the fact that his name was bloody <b>SYLVESTER</b>! He couldn't even escape the "s"s in his own blimming name. I immediately felt ashamed at myself for being so incredibly superficial and the guilt compelled me to accept when he asked to take my number so we could do dinner sometime. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">The next day, I left my phone at home while I took a <b>short</b> walk with my friend <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b><a href="http://lifenlivingit.blogspot.com/">Friday's Afro</a>. </b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">When he got back to the house I had <b>17</b> missed calls from the guy in the space of fifteen minutes! I called him back and the man had the cheek to be all "Why are you ignoring my calls?" on me. Mscheeeeew! To make matters worse, even though I was well aware that his name was Sylvester I kept calling him "Sebastian" for some reason. The more we spoke, the more his suspect English was exposed. I've never seen hotness die so fast in my life. It also didn't help that Friday's Afro insisted on yelling "Thlyyyyy" at me whenever I was on the phone with him.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"></span></span>Anyway, I fulfilled my part of the deal and allowed this man to take me to dinner, which ended up being at some uber-swanky restaurant in Blackfriars. After washing down my succulent, crisp-skinned belly of pork with some excellent white wine I realised I couldn't stand to spend another moment in his company. His lisp defeated me. I rarely listened to anything he had to say as his lisp was sooooo distracting. On the rare instances I did, his English dealt the other blow. I just couldn't take it anymore you hear?! He was all "where do you want to go now?" and I just blurted out "home!" I told him I was sorry but I could tell he liked me more than I liked him and we should do ourselves a favour and just stay "friends" for now. I've never seen a guy look so crushed. This all went down before the bill (for 200 smackers) arrived those few minutes spent waiting were awkward to say the least. He refused to say another word to me and only told me to call him when I got home as I could always change my mind.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Needless to say, I deleted his number on the way home and wept for the level of my superficiality. However, by the time I got home, I was over it already. I still cringe when I think of poor Sly but let's hope he's found somebody far more deserving....</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-8078723003992317582010-05-09T21:48:00.000+01:002010-05-09T21:48:55.450+01:00My MotherI have a strange relationship with my mother. Up until this evening, I hadn't spoken to her in three months. I love my mother dearly but we've always had problems seeing eye to eye. A large part of this is due to the fact that I didn't really start building a relationship with her until I was seven or so, when I first came to London. I remember spending time with my father when I was still in Koforidua vividly but I remember nothing about my mother, save for a tall, slim woman who would whisk off to the bank every morning. She seemed unapproachable, and in some ways she still does.<br />
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These three months in which we hadn't spoken was the longest yet. I usually speak to her as least once a week but we had a silly argument and I just couldn't be bothered anymore. If today wasn't Mothers' Day, I wonder how long I would have held off calling her. She didn't call me either.... When I spoke to her today, she told me she loved me. I was so surprised, then I felt like crying. She's not a very open person and I've always taken all my joys/ problems to my Dad, knowing that he'll tell her anything she needs to know.<br />
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I've always felt like a bit of a disappointment to her. I'm not skinny and I know she blames me for my younger sister's weight problems too. Something about setting a "bad example" for her to follow. I don't have an MBA (which she inexplicably keeps pushing this English and Linguistics graduate to do) nor do I have a rich, successful husband (yet!). She gets along far better with her sons than she does with her daughters and she has a whole host of "substitute daughters" to make her happy. These "substitute daughters" feel no way in talking to her about anything under the sun- something I could only dream of doing.<br />
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Despite all of these things, I have an incredible amount of respect for my mother. She is both hard-working and graceful in the challenging role of a pastor's wife. My father wouldn't be a fraction of the man he is without her by his side for all of these years. She has shown me what a good wife should be. She's not shy and submissive yet she she doesn't emasculate her husband in any way, shape, or form. She may not be the affectionate type (neither am I), but she shows her love for her children in myriad ways. I thank God for her life and wish her a truly wonderful Mother's Day.Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-85969970500226177912010-04-25T23:35:00.001+01:002010-04-25T23:35:00.711+01:00Picture post<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9hU4aD7SeuTD-cAp5ErrAdeW4XFJtKAV8mEvuQYarc01QF5SvtIzColFRLbyv4IGjZfInR7hnMwdISlo_Tfj5-MnTC4-Pt89uUvb0zdEXSfhEdUUh_4747l4KR5EB0jC0EaHKTO6jx8/s1600/Image0077%5B1%5D" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9hU4aD7SeuTD-cAp5ErrAdeW4XFJtKAV8mEvuQYarc01QF5SvtIzColFRLbyv4IGjZfInR7hnMwdISlo_Tfj5-MnTC4-Pt89uUvb0zdEXSfhEdUUh_4747l4KR5EB0jC0EaHKTO6jx8/s320/Image0077%5B1%5D" /></a>Everybody who knows me knows of my penchant for taking random pictures of people and things. Living in London enabled me to hone my stealth photography skills in order to avoid getting my ass kicked. However, this is not "Caught Slippin'" (does anybody remember that facebook group? Jokes for daaaaaays!) so here are just a few of the random pics I've taken in the past few<br />
months here:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>The Cape Coast Mysterious Dwarfs F.C.</b></span><br />
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I snapped this whilst stuck in some stupid traffic on the Accra-Tema motorway. Who knew Cape Coast had a football team called the "Mysterious Dwarfs" [sic]? Shouldn't they be <i>dwarves</i>? What's so mysterious about them? This is still the best football club name I've heard yet though.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKotOzNbDBxwWjGimDSgtJLfco6sl2TSpA49rxmfcWaUc4SHa4MBL9p4z4-CWqpQ4NS_VwEu2fEXus0jw7qvKb2Al6Kul4tX95cLRxvy6nltS1hAEkD2wYMtNt1aM8kCPrOHrFhWeMwA/s1600/Image0043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiKotOzNbDBxwWjGimDSgtJLfco6sl2TSpA49rxmfcWaUc4SHa4MBL9p4z4-CWqpQ4NS_VwEu2fEXus0jw7qvKb2Al6Kul4tX95cLRxvy6nltS1hAEkD2wYMtNt1aM8kCPrOHrFhWeMwA/s320/Image0043.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Taxi hazards</b></span><br />
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So I hailed a taxi from my house to Dzorwulu one sunny afternoon and tired of the wind effing up my hair because of the open window, I asked the taxi driver to please raise up the window for me. He directed me to "touch the green wires together". He then happily told me to touch the EXPOSED orange wires together to lower the window again! I was actually dumbfounded. Only in Ghana indeed....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmONLyogpVlmytjyD8kPG6l6158kqkBzNoSf-EOa1FmapCd186NwFzxGdi0G0FEBV27658cMr_736CPj-6mn5qWm5DntQKAX-zUH7FNbETY2aEdoVpczXnw46OuXlqO3rVmi-msP5X6Uo/s1600/Image0075.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmONLyogpVlmytjyD8kPG6l6158kqkBzNoSf-EOa1FmapCd186NwFzxGdi0G0FEBV27658cMr_736CPj-6mn5qWm5DntQKAX-zUH7FNbETY2aEdoVpczXnw46OuXlqO3rVmi-msP5X6Uo/s320/Image0075.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>"Oh Edem!"</b></span><br />
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I have no idea who Edem is, or what he did, but it was clearly serious enough to warrant the offended party complaining about his crimes all over Accra. I thought this was hilarious. Not unlike our next picture...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLOOFEfaiUqt0UDRVBD4p5xvqH7KPZ6vIESHgoFcLoUGOg0iPhcqw-Du3o8wp89AKtq-Y05iUhWUrarg2Te4QvsPw7ek_hRAl-wpaC1lu0YKR0T10QpjHtiE17tn28__gievqYjPGbwE/s1600/Image0051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrLOOFEfaiUqt0UDRVBD4p5xvqH7KPZ6vIESHgoFcLoUGOg0iPhcqw-Du3o8wp89AKtq-Y05iUhWUrarg2Te4QvsPw7ek_hRAl-wpaC1lu0YKR0T10QpjHtiE17tn28__gievqYjPGbwE/s320/Image0051.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>Hilarious Services (Osu)</b></span><br />
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Spotted this gem on Oxford St. in Osu. Mate, you offer clerical and photography services. What the hell is 'hilarious" about that?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLXKR-wGmIrtz_dCjsEiOYk0Ce8D-g5uR9tp-8w98tyL8YKnUO_Ejk8vwZ9gZPLZpmULxlzm7sSPWavseHWUCOZrn-d9mlusrQVb0n-DG8TBhXCLofMwknbmfG4_77G7cjLifR5swgtw/s1600/Image0039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLXKR-wGmIrtz_dCjsEiOYk0Ce8D-g5uR9tp-8w98tyL8YKnUO_Ejk8vwZ9gZPLZpmULxlzm7sSPWavseHWUCOZrn-d9mlusrQVb0n-DG8TBhXCLofMwknbmfG4_77G7cjLifR5swgtw/s320/Image0039.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>"My Lord is my Shepped"</b></span><br />
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Yep. "Shepped". What made this worse was that I took this picture at the Accra Polo Club as it was reversing <i>into</i> the white picket fence of the supporters enclosure. Clearly the Lord was slipping on his shepherding skills that evening....<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnEnA1lh04rabmpYWfD91tcga0EqmexhvJfMnwrHIIu7fAC330taxkpb2ih1e87rQVexk2Wyka2ukmjnJXX8pyQJ3WZz68SRFovWDONZiK049zziLTdWEgxucV_doqg5a999Ro6ophhs/s1600/Image0078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOnEnA1lh04rabmpYWfD91tcga0EqmexhvJfMnwrHIIu7fAC330taxkpb2ih1e87rQVexk2Wyka2ukmjnJXX8pyQJ3WZz68SRFovWDONZiK049zziLTdWEgxucV_doqg5a999Ro6ophhs/s320/Image0078.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>"My Brain"</b></span><br />
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A couple of months ago, I was trying to stress to my grade 8 students the importance of acknowledging their sources before they turned in their projects. It's never too early to learn about plagiarism right? This was the bibliography page of one of my students. Is this a reflection on me or her? Either way, let's bow our heads in prayer for the children of the future....Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-12465046110150818082010-04-23T15:10:00.000+01:002010-04-23T15:10:49.434+01:00That damn Ms. Harris....I finally got round to watching Ciara's new video for "Ride". I'm actually speechless. I wanted to hate it but damn if this woman ain't WERKING it! I'm off to take notes....<br />
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<object height="374" width="448"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.worldstarhiphop.com/videos/e/16711680/wshhgJzHI6QtBqpc26yu" /> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true" /><param name="quality" value="high" /> <embed src="http://www.worldstarhiphop.com/videos/e/16711680/wshhgJzHI6QtBqpc26yu" quality="high" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowFullscreen="true" width="448" height="374"></embed> </object>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-30077080998665244012010-04-22T23:31:00.000+01:002010-04-22T23:31:12.584+01:00Money is better than poverty, if only for financial reasonsI've noticed myself doing a funny thing since I moved to Ghana- I try to avoid telling people where I live. Weird huh? Maybe you think me so weird after hearing me out:<br />
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So I live in some <i>extremely</i> plush accommodation in an extremely posh area of Accra. "Nothing wrong with that" you say. Indeed there isn't. I love where I live and I actually think I'd have already run back to London if I didn't live where I live. I haven't really experienced the chronic water shortage that seems to have befallen Accra and her neighbouring cities lately. Lights off problems also go largely unnoticed and there's really no logistical way armed-robbers could make it into here. Buuuuuuuut<br />
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1. This is not my yard; it belongs to a family friend. Like I have $500,000 plus to drop on an appartment in Accra.<br />
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2. When some people find out where I live, I get accused of being a "dadaba" (spoilt Daddy's girl) and they mysteriously stop offering to pay for/ split things.... I kept where I lived from my co-workers for as long as possible but I noticed that as soon as word got out, things like taking it in turns to buy everybody snacks mysteriously fell more frequently on me. My mama didn't raise no fool. If you ain't buying, then we ALL ain't eating.<br />
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3. Some people ask "what is it like living there" and that's ALL they want to talk about. Seriously.<br />
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4. Taxi drivers use this as yet another excuse to bump me. I've now resorted to NEVER telling them outright where I'm going. I'll vaguely mutter something about going "somewhere around The African Regent Hotel", throw the agreed fee at them and wait until we arrive at said hotel before directing them to the opposite direction. Hey it's been working so far!<br />
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One of the things that most irritates me about Accra is the sheer number of posers in this city. I see people who pretend to be "bigger" than they are constantly and it's a fear of being perceived to be one of them that makes me reluctant to share where I live with people.<br />
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Bitch I'm broke! I have two sets of student loans to pay off and my credit rating must be down the toilet by now since I haven't been in the UK to pay O2's phone bills nor Egg's credit card bills. Why on earth should I pretend otherwise? I'd love to have a Sugar Daddy/ Santa Claus to act as my Fairy Godmother but until then, <a href="http://www.lastbornchild.com/">Last Born Child</a> is my inspiration. People like myself is the reason I never make assumptions about anybody's financial status. I may be broke right now but I sure as hell don't advertise it. In the same vein, don't jealous the chick with the freshest Malaysian weave, the flyest Bvlgari shades, the latest Bottega Veneta handbag and pushing the latest whip. You don't know where or how she got that ish. I try to be myself as much as I can so that's why I either won't tell you where I live, or I'll quickly append a "but it's not my house" when you comment on how nice it is. Funny thing is, I've noticed that money attracts money. Seriously. When people perceive you to be in a certain "class" you find yourself meeting more and more of them. Kind of makes sense now why the posers bother so much....<br />
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So do you make assumptions about how much money you think people have and how/ why?<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">Random thoughts:</span></b><br />
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1. Why did I just see <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnRvsvLlrZA">Wanlov the Kubolor</a> wandering through the streets of Dzorwulu in torrential rain?<br />
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2. Why is the size 18/20 Sankofa flirting with a fine-ass <b><i>personal trainer</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">. The irony doesn't escape me either. Maybe he'll help me get my bikini bod fine-tuned....</span></b><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">3. I've had a craving for </span>apapransa </b>for the last two weeks. I'm too lazy and inept to attempt to make some. Where can I buy some?<br />
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I'll leave you with this vintage eargasm courtesy of <b>Maxwell</b>. He's always a good choice before bedtime.<br />
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<object height="405" width="500"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PzVwJQwYoqw&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PzVwJQwYoqw&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-6291142492662067572010-04-19T17:19:00.001+01:002010-04-19T17:22:52.049+01:00London on my mind...My job is seriously effing up my blogging life, my social life, in fact my life full stop. I ran away to London for our ONE WEEK Easter break. Yes- one week. Man I didn't realise just how much I'd missed that city so here is a list of some things I missed (and didn't miss) about my beloved London town (despite it giving me a horrible cold):<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>1. People walking quickly</b></span><br />
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Let me not go on too much about how refreshing it was to have people walk like they actually had somewhere to go. People in Accra are always telling me to slow down because "it's too hot to be rushing". I look at them like "fool why exactly do you think I'm walking so fast? All the faster to get out of this bloody sun!"<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>2. Public transport</b></span><br />
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Yes there were still flippin engineering works on the Jubilee Line but I was getting over-excited hopping from trains, to the DLR, to tube, to bus. Any Londoners out there- I'm telling you don't know how good you have it until you have to deal with smelly tro-tro mates or psychotic taxi drivers. These are basically your only options when you don't have a car in Accra.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>3. A general lack of flying insects</b></span><br />
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Flies are the bane of my existence in Ghana. I detest them with the intensity of a thousand suns. Their buzzing drives me mental and I'm constantly swatting the air whenever I'm eating. I once got up and left Bush Canteen in East Legon in a huff because I was being attacked by flies. Having a fly-free week was blissful.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>4. Fashion and shopping</b></span><br />
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I'd always get into arguments with my American friends when we talked about fashion. I don't care but Londoners always win hands down. I've always said that everybody else does "sexy" whilst Londoners do "trendy". Londoners can take the most truly hideous pieces of clothing I've ever seen and somehow throw them together and make me wish I'd thought of it first. It's a true skill.<br />
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Shopping-wise, even though I was as broke as a church mouse, Primark sorted me out with some flip-flops boy! This reminds me of the woman in a "boutique" in Dzorwulu who tried to charge me GHC 60 (just over 30 quid) for some 4 pound Primark skirt from 3 years ago!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>5. <a href="http://altiustendo.blogspot.com/2009/07/why.html">The Musician</a> (and my friends)</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
Look at me putting my friends in brackets! But they understand.... It was great seeing the ones I actually managed to get a hold of. Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I've got some truly great friends. I'm so lucky to have friends that generally share my strange (and sometimes mean) sense of humour. You can never underestimate the benefits of people who can laugh at the same things you do. So here's to <b>Friday's Afro, Afrocentric, Nsoromma, East London Boy, Lawyer Girl, Twister, N8, Wina, </b>and my million and one surrogate parents. I couldn't see all of you but it was good to at least chat a little.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><a href="http://altiustendo.blogspot.com/2009/10/music-as-ultimate-painkiller.html">The Musician</a>: </span>I'm partly blushing and partly feeling embarrassed. I still think it's completely mental that this man is still in my life, but like a moth to a flame there I was. I've seriously never been with any man who makes me feel as happy as he can but I still have a vague feeling that he's an addiction I need to kick. I was a very naughty girl and now I feel like an a victim of abuse who keeps going back to her abuser. Eek! O_O But I had the best time with him so is being happy a crime?<br />
<br />
There were loads of things I <b>hadn't</b> missed about LDN but let's be positive today ;-)<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Currently listening to: <i>I hate seagulls- </i>Kate Nash</b><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><br />
</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b><br />
</b></span>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-53382093489256576802010-03-29T04:51:00.000+01:002010-03-29T04:51:36.937+01:00(Mis)Education<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.gallery.ca/images/crayons_Education_72ppi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://www.gallery.ca/images/crayons_Education_72ppi.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I feel like ranting this morning so bear with me. So after months of searching and dealing with idiots asking me "are you sure you can live in Ghana?" I finally managed to get a job here in GH at the end of January. I don't think I've ever been so depressed about getting a job before and I couldn't even moan about it to anybody because they wouldn't get it. I know you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but the job I got was as a flippin' <i>teacher</i>. "What's wrong with being a teacher?" I hear you say. Well, nothing; but if I had to make a list of all the jobs I would like to do, teaching would be languishing somewhere near the very bottom. I have the utmost respect for teachers but since I swing back and forth between loving kids and hating them, I didn't really think that would be the job for me.<br />
<br />
Anyway, after endless amounts of bullshitting, I managed to snag a job as a teacher at a swanky International school here in GH. So I basically have no clue what I'm doing and since they apparently don't believe in the concept of <i>orientation</i> I was basically thrown to the dogs. It's hard enough being in a school where some of the pupils are just seven years older than me but I may have um <i>embellished</i> my experience a tad . Some of the teachers have been pretty helpful and understanding but they've got their own crap to deal with so the help has been understandably limited. The pay is apparently "good for Ghana" but well, you could have fooled me. I definitely have fewer outgoings than I did in London but I'm trynna save up for a masters and it's not looking too good.<br />
<br />
Surprisingly, this is the first time in my life that I don't generally have a feeling of doom and gloom as I head to work but I can't say I <i>love</i> this job either. It's a weird feeling to have. The kids are <i>interesting</i>. I think that initially they were awed by the sight of a teacher who didn't look "teacher-ish" and they were pretty well-behaved but they're sure showing they're true colours now. I love my grade 7s because, as cheesy as it sounds, you actively feel as though you're teaching them something. The grade 9s are another matter because they're at that "I think I'm so cool because I'm about to turn all of 16" stage. I have a group of about 5 boys I actively feel like punching because they insist on flirting with the females in the class (moi included!) instead of concentrating on the beautiful poetry of Lord Byron. I mean really. Who could ignore Lord Byron? Lol. As for my grade 8s? Well they sure are <i>special</i>. They are known for being the noisiest class in the school and they do their best to live up to their reputation.<br />
<br />
What really pisses me off about this place though is the lack of any kind of punishment system here. If a student does something wrong you can make them clear the teacher's table at lunch or make them stand on stage and apologise to the whole school. O_O<br />
<br />
Mate, that's not a punishment. That's a slight inconvenience. They don't even have detention for Pete's sake! When I was in boarding school, we had Saturday night detention (usually to coincide with a school dance or some other cool ish you wanted to go to) and that was only a medium punishment. KMBT. No wonder these kids walk around with a swagger in their step. They know you basically can't do jack to them. Where's the famous Ghanaian sense of discipline and respect? A lot of the other teachers seem to think it's because they're all so rich. I've been around rich people for a good chunk of my life and no offense but the way white people with money act and the way black people with money act is on a whole 'nother level. Don't blame the money. Just act right.<br />
<br />
These kids give me joke though. I made a reference to Jodeci or a band like that the other day and they all had the blank stare going on strong. Excellent way to make you feel really old. But then some of them go "but Miss have you heard of Chipmunk? Tinie Tempah? D'banj?" I had to let them KNOW! About have I heard of Chipmunk and Tinie Tempah? Where were they when we jamming to "Wifey" and "Fire Alie"?<br />
<br />
In all seriousness, this job is interesting and no matter what happens I think I'll be glad for this experience but <i>mehn</i> my journey to my masters degree needs to speed up!<br />
<br />
<i>Edited to add: I saw the Vice Principal yesterday and she said the school board are extremely happy with the job I'm doing and the kids seem to like me. Well that's a shock. I guess my bullshitting skills aren't so bad after all. </i><br />
<br />
<b>Currently listening to:</b><i><b>Brazen</b></i><b></b><b>-Skunk Anansie</b>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-67303639747875987362010-03-15T10:35:00.001+00:002010-03-15T11:42:06.710+00:00100 truths about me<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">I stole this from <a href="http://rantingsofamanhater.blogspot.com/">Love Was the Egg</a> and <a href="http://diaryofanambitiousblackwoman.blogspot.com/">L Hash Jay</a>. So out of sheer boredom and as a procrastination tool to avoid my mountain of marking, here goes:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #fa63b9; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #fa63b9; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;">1. Last drink→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Pineapple juice w/ a hint of ginger (<a href="http://www.bsholdings.com/">Blue Skies</a> baaaaaby!)</span><br />
<br />
2. Last phone call→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The Musician (completely unexpected)</span><br />
<br />
3. Last text message→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">My friend's mother thanking me for my mothers' day text</span><br />
<br />
4. Last song you listened to→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><i>Melt my heart to stone</i>- Adele</span><br />
<br />
5. Last time you cried→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Last week at work. Reeeeeally embarassing.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> SIX HAVE YOU EVER:</span><br />
<br />
6. Dated someone twice → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Haha yes.</span><br />
<br />
7. Been cheated on?→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Hell yes. See <b>The Musician</b>.</span><br />
<br />
8. Kissed someone?→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Is this a trick question?</span><br />
<br />
9. Lost someone special?→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes. Unfortunately more than once.</span><br />
<br />
10. Been depressed?→<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes, particularly for the majority of 2004 and 2009. 2010 will <b>not</b> follow these God-forsaken years!</span></span><br />
<br />
11. Been drunk and threw up? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> LIST FOUR FAVORITE COLOURS:</span><br />
<br />
12. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #38761d;">green</span><br />
<br />
13. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">mustard </span><br />
<br />
14. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">purple</span><br />
<br />
15. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;">black</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> HAVE YOU:</span><br />
<br />
16. Made new friends → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Many different times</span><br />
<br />
17. Fallen out of love → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
18. Laughed until you cried → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Once or twice</span><br />
<br />
19. Met someone who changed you → <span style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span> </span><br />
<br />
20. Found out who your true friends were → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Still finding out....</span><br />
<br />
21. Found out someone was talking about you → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes and I've also heard them doing it when they thought I was asleep. Oh the joys of boarding school/ university.</span><br />
<br />
22. Kissed anyone on your friend's list → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">No!</span><br />
<br />
23. How many people on your friends list do you know in real life →<span style="color: red;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Six</span><br />
<br />
25. Do you have any pets →<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Nope</span></span><br />
<br />
26. Do you want to change your name→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I did when I was about 10 but I love <i>all</i> my names now.</span><br />
<br />
27. What did you do for your last birthday → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Absolutely nothing but <b>Friday's Afro, Afrocentric, and Nsoromma</b> all took me out for dinner at various times during the week.</span><br />
<br />
28. What time did you wake up today → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">5:10 a.m</span><br />
<br />
29. What were you doing at midnight last night → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Watching old episodes of <i>The Office </i>(US Version)</span><br />
<br />
30. Name something you CANNOT wait for → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">2nd April. Yes just that date. I don't have to say why do I? :-p</span><br />
<br />
31. Last time you saw your mother→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">November but I saw my Daddy last week.</span><br />
<br />
32. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life →<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I can't limit it to one.</span><br />
<br />
33. What are you listening to right now → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><i>Waving Flag</i> byK'naan</span><br />
<br />
34. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yep. Went to school with quite a number of them.</span><br />
<br />
35. What's getting on your nerves right now? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Smelly people who feel no way in assaulting you with their B.O. at 6 in the morning. They should be arrested under a bio-hazard act imho.</span><br />
<br />
36. Most visited webpage → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Google Reader and BBC</span><br />
<br />
37. What's your name→<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Sankofa. The real one will <i>not</i> be revealed on these nets :-p</span></span><br />
<br />
38. Nicknames→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Domzy, Nanz</span><br />
<br />
39. Relationship Status → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Single (again)</span><br />
<br />
40. Zodiac Sign ---<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Libra</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">41. Male or female or transgendered</span><span style="color: black;">→</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Female</span></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">42. Primary</span><span style="color: black;">-----</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">St. James'</span></span><br />
<br />
43. Middle School →<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I'm not a Yank</span></span><br />
<br />
44. High school → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Again, I'm not a Yank but my <i>secondary</i> school was Ardingly College</span><br />
<br />
45. Hair color → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Brownish blackish</span><br />
<br />
46. Long/medium/short →<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Medium</span></span><br />
<br />
47. Height → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">5"6/ 5"7 I swear it alternates between these every time I get measured</span><br />
<br />
48. Do you have a crush on someone? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Not a soul at the mo. It might liven things up a bit though...</span><br />
<br />
49: What do you like about yourself? →<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">My lips I guess</span></span><br />
<br />
50. Piercings → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Many</span><br />
<br />
51. Tattoos → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">One</span><br />
<br />
52. Righty or lefty → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I'm so right-handed it's not funny. I feel for my left hand sometimes.</span><span style="color: red;"><br />
</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> FIRSTS :</span><br />
<br />
53. First surgery --- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Last year's <a href="http://altiustendo.blogspot.com/2009/10/music-as-ultimate-painkiller.html">oral surgery</a></span><br />
<br />
54. First piercing → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">ears</span><br />
<br />
55. First best friend → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Henrietta from Madonna Primary School</span><br />
<br />
56. First sport you joined → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Netball</span><br />
<br />
57. First pet → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">have never had one</span><br />
<br />
58. First vacation→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">does moving countries count? If it doesn't then I guess it would be Dusseldorf, Germany</span><br />
<br />
59. First concert → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Brighton's <i>Party in the Park </i>with the likes of 911, Craig David, Jamelia, Westlife (when they were called Westside) etc. Oh the days of Southern fm</span><br />
<br />
60. First crush → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Nathan from Isleworth</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> RIGHT NOW:</span><br />
<br />
61. Eating → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Waakye</span><br />
<br />
62. Drinking..... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Water</span><br />
<br />
63. Already missing→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">London shopping and cooler weather. Yes, really.</span><br />
<br />
64. I'm about to → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Start marking</span><br />
<br />
65. Listening to →<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">singers on <i>American Idol</i></span></span><br />
<br />
66. Thinking about → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">How I really need to start my marking and how I've wasted my weekend once again</span><br />
<br />
67. Waiting for →<span style="color: red;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Godot</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> YOUR FUTURE :</span><br />
<br />
68. Want kids? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Sometimes it's yes, sometimes it's no. I think I want at least one though. I think...</span><br />
<br />
69. Want to get married? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Definitely</span><br />
<br />
70. Careers in mind → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Publishing, literary agent</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> WHICH IS BETTER WITH THE OPPOSITE SEX?</span><br />
<br />
71. Lips or eyes → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Lips</span><br />
<br />
72. Hugs or kisses →<span style="color: red;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Kisses all the way. I'm not too big on hugging</span><br />
<br />
73. Shorter or taller → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The taller the better. Ideally 6"3/ 6"4</span><br />
<br />
74. Older or Younger → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Older</span><br />
<br />
75. Romantic or spontaneous → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Can't I have both? I guess romance lasts longer but I get bored easily...</span><br />
<br />
76. Nice stomach or nice arms →<span style="color: red;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Stomach</span><br />
<br />
77. Sensitive or loud → </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">After <b>Koforidua Boy</b> allow sensitive men, so I guess loud wins by default</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #fa63b9; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><br />
</span> 78. Hook-up or relationship → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The original anti-relationship girl is growing up so definitely relationships here.</span><br />
<br />
79. Trouble maker or hesitant→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Trouble maker</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> HAVE YOU EVER :</span><br />
<br />
81. Drank hard liquor → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">yep</span><br />
<br />
82. Lost glasses/contacts → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">More than I can even count</span><br />
<br />
83. kissed on 1st date – <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">yes</span><br />
<br />
84. Broken someone's heart → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">So they claim</span><br />
<br />
85. Had your own heart broken → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Severely bruised</span><br />
<br />
86. Been arrested →<span style="color: red;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yep. The days of doing stupid things out of sheer boredom are now over (I hope)</span><br />
<br />
87. Turned someone down → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes, yes, and yes. Usually every time I had to venture out to Woolwich a.k.a "Little Lagos"</span><br />
<br />
88. Cried when someone died → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">No</span><br />
<br />
89. Liked a friend that of the same sex? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Not in <i>that</i> way</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> DO YOU BELIEVE IN:</span><br />
<br />
90. Yourself → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
91. Miracles → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes but not those ones at church when the pastor is screaming prayers at you, bathing you in his spittle whilst simultaneously pushing you to fall down so you can prove you "caught" the Holy Ghost. [[[side eye]]]</span><br />
<br />
92. Love at first sight → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Hell no</span><br />
<br />
93. Heaven → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
94. Santa Clause → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I din't even believe in him when I was 7. Like my parents are going to allow a fat, old, white man to take the credit for their presents. KMT</span><br />
<br />
95. Kiss on the first date? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
96. Angels → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"> ANSWER TRUTHFULLY:</span><br />
<br />
97. Is there one person you want to be with right now? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
98. Had more than one boyfriend/girlfriend at one time? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Nope. If you actually get me to commit, I'm a one-man woman. If there's no explicit commitment however, well then....</span><br />
<br />
99. Wish you could change things in your past?→ <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Yes</span><br />
<br />
100. Are you posting this as 100 Truths? → <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">I guess so</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #fa63b9; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px;"><b>Currently listening to:</b> <i><b>Death</b>- </i><b>Nneka</b></span></span>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-60539517274089692882010-03-13T22:12:00.000+00:002010-03-13T22:12:30.013+00:00Anybody out there?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I feel like hanging my head in shame. I don't know what happened but I guess I lost my urge to blog for a while there so um Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and Happy Ghana Independence to everybody out there! Not that there hasn't been anything to blog about. Far from it. I finally managed to get a job here which I like and hate alternatively (but more on that later). I fell in like and had a brief relationship with a man who was ultimately yet another disappointment (more on that later too). So my first foray into dating after <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">The Musician</span></b> was ultimately a failure but at least it wasn't too damaging.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My apathy towards blogging seemed to extend to commenting on my favourite blogs but reading them kept me going and I'm now ready to rejoin the blogosphere. The writer of my new favourite blog <b><a href="http://rantingsofamanhater.blogspot.com/">Rantings of a Man-hater</a></b> has unfortunately decided to abandon me but the old faves like <b><a href="http://chardonas.blogspot.com/">Ramblings of a Procrastinator</a>, <a href="http://maameous.blogspot.com/">Wo Se Ekyir</a>, <a href="http://adventuresfrom.com/">Adventures from the Bedrooms of African Women</a>, <a href="http://mightyafrican.blogspot.com/">MighTy African</a>, </b>and of course, <b><a href="http://lifenlivingit.blogspot.com/">Life... and Living It</a></b> held me down.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My own brand of twi (the most widely-spoken Ghanaian language) that I like to call <b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">"twinglish" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">has improved immeasurably so yay for me! I'll end here and I'll be back with tales of men and (mis)education but not before I leave you an image of the sun as it was seen in Ghana a few days ago. Isn't it luvvverly? Don't know much about the science behind it and I don't much care I just liked the pretty.</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://news.myjoyonline.com/photos/news/Sun_rainbow2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://news.myjoyonline.com/photos/news/Sun_rainbow2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's Chris Daughtry of <i>American Idol</i> fame smashing Gaga's <i>Poker Face</i> to sing us out!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bqT4VnnEU0M&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bqT4VnnEU0M&hl=en_US&fs=1&rel=0&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Currently listening to:</b> <i>Africa</i>- <b>Amadou and Mariam ft. K'naan </b>(chooooooon!)</div>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-59005632116282112792009-12-10T14:26:00.000+00:002009-12-10T14:26:45.974+00:00Not waving but drowning...<div style="color: purple; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding: 10px 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">Nobody heard him, the dead man,</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">But still he lay moaning:</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">I was much further out than you thought</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">And not waving but drowning.</span></span></span></b><br />
</div><div style="color: purple; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding: 10px 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">Poor chap, he always loved larking</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">And now he's dead</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">It must have been too cold for him his heart</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">gave way,</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">They said.</span></span></span></b><br />
</div><div style="color: purple; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding: 10px 0px; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">Oh, no no no, it was too cold always</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">(Still the dead one lay moaning)</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">I was much too far out all my life</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 15px; text-align: left;">And not waving but drowning.</span></span></span></b><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Ever feel like you're just going through the motions? This Stevie Smith poem has always been one of my all-time favourites because it speaks to me on a different level. Sometimes I feel as though my life is one big show. "<a class="zem_slink" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_the_world%27s_a_stage" rel="wikipedia" title="All the world's a stage">All the world's a stage</a>" and all that. But lately I find myself wondering just how much longer this can all go on? I act like I'm fine because that's what I'm <i>supposed</i> to do. I'm over <b>The Musician</b> because I'm <i>supposed</i> to be by now. Do my masters in IR next because I'm <i>supposed</i> to. Looking to get married because I'm <i>supposed</i> to. You get the picture. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">From a distance it's easy to see the fun-loving girl who's perhaps a little too prone to moodswings, however I feel like I'm drowning, not waving. There seems to be no focus in my life at all and I'm pretty much clueless as to what I'm doing. I've been waiting for my one great passion to hit me for years and I'm pretty much fed up of waiting. Is there such thing as a "one great passion" anyway? I feel as though I'm interested in too many disparate things and this has led to some kind of fragmentation and a general lack of concentration. Since I loved books, I figured I'd look for a career involving books, hence my interest in publishing. But it gets pretty damn frustrating when people keep saying you need experience, yet nobody wants to be the one to give it to you. It may be completely irrational but I feel as though I have a ticking clock as a constant companion. Time to get it all together. <i><span style="color: blue;">Tick, tock, tick, tock</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;">. </span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I honestly don't know what to do anymore. I feel as though I'm wasting the vestiges of my youth by being too wishy-washy in my outlook on life. What sucks is that I <b>know</b> I'm capable of great things. I just don't know how to get started. The one person I really want to talk to about this (my father) doesn't seem to be talking to me because of an issue of entirely my own doing. These are the things I <b>do</b> know:</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> 1. I want to do a masters because I love to learn. That's the only reason. However, I'm thinking of applying for IR purely out of duty. In my perfect world, I'd be doing the Race, Ethnicity and Postcolonial Studies MSc at the LSE.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">2. I want my Daddy. Maybe I need to quit whining about this one and just sort it out....</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">3. At this point in time, I'll take any reasonably paid job and take it from there.<br />
</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="border-collapse: separate; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="color: #414850; font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: verdana,helvetica,arial,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">You know the feeling where you're surrounded by a million people yet feel so alone? Yours truly is slap bang in the middle of that. I feel as though I'm in the murky sea and I'm trying to avoid being dragged down by the undertow. I'm not waving but slowly drowning.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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</script></span></div>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-31087244495003903782009-12-09T11:13:00.001+00:002009-12-09T12:32:44.549+00:00I'm baaaaaaaaaack!Wow it's been a minute hasn't it? I don't even have a good excuse for this prolonged absence. I've just been blogging more over on <a href="http://lifenlivingit.blogspot.com/">Life... And Living It</a>. Do you ever feel you have so much to write about but then end up writing nothing at all? That's been my dilemma. I've also found myself self-censoring on this blog, which is in direct opposition of the reason I started this blog to begin with so I'm going to do my level best to combat this.<br />
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So on the life front: I'm still looking for a job. It's just getting annoying now especially now that funds are almost non-existent. I'm slowly making friends and I've met a bunch of really cool people from the Ghana blogosphere. I've been dating here and there, which has been wonderful in my quest to erase <b><span style="color: #cc0000;">The Musician</span></b> from my mind. I'm still loving Ghana, which is surprising for somebody who so easily gets bored. I've also been contemplating postponing my Masters for another year but nothing's been decided yet. So that's it in a nutshell!<br />
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I'll blog about the dating escapades a little later. I've just realised that a lot of Ghanaian men are <i>special</i>.<br />
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So, as usual, here's some things I've been thinking about lately:<br />
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1. Tiger, Tiger, Tiger. This guy is an <b><span style="color: #0b5394;">I.D.I.O.T. </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">I'm not even talking about the cheating part. The cynic in me refuses to act like this is shocking. </span>However</b>, the man is too damn rich to get busted like that. Dude, you're a flippin <i>billionaire</i> how do you not have people to handle your shit for you? Especially if it's up to 10 women like they say. Shoot, if I was that rich, you'd never be able to trace anything back to me. Leaving voicemails? Are you dumb? Having them in your house? Not using protection with two of them? If you're gonna have side-chicks, at least make sure they can keep their mouths shut to the press. He deserves every ounce of this crap based on stupidity alone. SMDH. (But who knew boring, staid, Tiger was a freak like <i>that</i>? Lol)<br />
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2. Here in Ghana, if somebody calls you and you don't pick up, 9 out of 10 times they will <i>keep</i> calling you until you do. I had 8 missed calls in 15 minutes from an individual who just wanted to say "hi". Again, SMDH.<br />
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3. I used to love snails when I was a little girl in Kof-Town. I've now discovered they generally make me want to throw up....<br />
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4. Is the Ghanaian currency represented as GHC or GHS? They seem to be interchangeable and I don't understand why.<br />
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5. I've felt a distinct lack of Christmas spirit in Accra apart from a few sad Christmas lights here and there. However, my aunt and I decided to "Christmas-fy" our apartment yesterday and we didn't do too badly if I may say so myself!:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5b5rtnVyGZNfWfzHraDaCHtokgilPGRH9Hl31ka9hGbojQ8r6hblQl0dLLvvbqxsa8xicd07ZB84p5Q5ReaF2dS2GOz-M9wGa_BphyphenhyphentXjSQXwnn3nerrQxFojoekwaTxvyv-mEB7s7I/s1600-h/Xmas+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB5b5rtnVyGZNfWfzHraDaCHtokgilPGRH9Hl31ka9hGbojQ8r6hblQl0dLLvvbqxsa8xicd07ZB84p5Q5ReaF2dS2GOz-M9wGa_BphyphenhyphentXjSQXwnn3nerrQxFojoekwaTxvyv-mEB7s7I/s400/Xmas+tree.jpg" /></a><br />
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I love our little black Angel. I've decided to name her "Ama". She looks like an "Ama":<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeKE1d0uVAtMV95bZ622nLcefTTaWljw1W9l6Fhdflp1GCchmG3JwSNEEzwd6UA-4036TS2drJEXazTRRhUWniITjNzQeastmMgnvQzIm8tkbvEDRbLmn1OSnuZ6bWXR5g4Bn9tZawOc/s1600-h/Angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeKE1d0uVAtMV95bZ622nLcefTTaWljw1W9l6Fhdflp1GCchmG3JwSNEEzwd6UA-4036TS2drJEXazTRRhUWniITjNzQeastmMgnvQzIm8tkbvEDRbLmn1OSnuZ6bWXR5g4Bn9tZawOc/s320/Angel.jpg" /></a><br />
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<i>Currently listening to: </i><b>Cool Temper- </b><i>J. Martins</i>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-19493732870720411362009-10-31T01:32:00.002+00:002009-10-31T01:37:14.281+00:00Music as the ultimate painkiller?Songs are the most powerful memory triggers for me and the song "Ex" by little-known UK artist Dele just came on my iPod shuffle. It's slightly spooky because it's almost a year to the day I first heard this song and I will forever associate it with the <a href="http://altiustendo.blogspot.com/2009/09/musician.html">Musician</a>.<br />
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Turn the clock back one year and it's about 3 o'clock in the morning. I'm lying on my bed in floods of tears contemplating whether it'll be stupid to take myself to the hospital. I don't want to call any of my friends because I know they're all fast asleep by now. The toothache I've been ignoring for the last week is now making me feel like jumping out of my (1st floor) window. The trip to the emergency dentist I took earlier that day is looking pointless right about now. All the stupid woman did was tut about how she understood I must be in great pain but I should just take these antibiotics and a couple of ibuprofen and I should be okay in a couple of days. I can't remember the last time I cried because of physical pain and I've reached the end of my tether. I suddenly remember that the guy I met on the bus only 3 weeks before, and who I've been consequently "talking" to, is working late today so maybe he'll still be awake. He lives in the flat next to mine and without any regard for him thinking I'm weird, I call him and he picks up before the 3rd ring. All my efforts to mask the fact that I've been crying are in vain as I break down as soon as he asks me "what's wrong?" I tell him I haven't slept for the last two days because the pain keeps me awake. I've taken so many painkillers that I'm afraid I might need to get my stomach pumped.<br />
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A few minutes later, with me still sobbing on the phone, he tells me to come downstairs because he's standing outside my flat. He gives me a hug and a packet of industrial-strength painkillers he has left over from an operation he had last year. At this point, I'm beyond caring about what I'm ingesting into my body. I'm at the stage where all I want to do is not feel. Blissfully, I manage to sleep for 3 hours before the pain announces itself again. At the break of dawn, I get a call from him telling me to get dressed because he's driving me to A&E. As we make our way to King's College Hospital, he's trying to cheer me up by playing music he knows I like. He lies through his teeth that my face isn't <i>that</i> swollen but I saw him visibly flinch when I first entered his car. Still, I appreciate the sentiment.<br />
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Two hours later, I've been given some codeine and other unpronounceable painkillers while I wait so I no longer feel like slamming my hand in a door in order for <i>that </i>pain to distract me from the pain in my tooth. He, of the notoriously short attention span, is getting fidgety but still he waits with me. He gives me his iPod to listen to and says I should listen to this song because the guy is Nigerian and it's rare to find male R&B singers nowadays with some bass in their voice. As the music flows from the earphones, everything suddenly seems just that little bit better.<br />
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I have no idea why this song came up on my shuffle today but it made me realise just how easy it is for <b>one</b> terrible act to wipe out dozens of goods. I usually love this song but tonight, it's just succeeded in making me feel sad.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(I ended up having 4 teeth taken out under anaesthetic and stitches put in my mouth, so I wasn't playing about the pain...)</span>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-63865984563390959692009-10-30T00:33:00.001+00:002009-10-30T01:16:28.319+00:00Of myths and legendsThere's a junction in the "37" area of Accra where I heard the most god-awful unholy sound a couple of days ago. I was chilling in the car, craning my neck to catch the faintest whiff of a breeze when I heard a sound like cats being drowned mixed with that horrible "crying" sound London foxes make at night. My head snapped back so quick and when I made the mistake of looking up, I saw horrible, black, winged creatures swooping in and out of some large trees. Bats creep me the hell out. I find them as truly disgusting creatures. A lot of people know that I'm generally not a fan of things that fly but when you add teeth, claws, and fur to winged creatures, you have a living embodiment of my worst nightmare.<br />
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While hastily rolling up my window, the woman driving me told me that there are also a lot of bats in Kwahu and according to legend, a Kwahu chief became sick one day and had to be transported to the military hospital in "37". The bats accompanied him on his journey to Accra where he unfortunately died. However, since the bats never saw him leave, still they remain waiting to accompany the chief back to Kwahu. Apparently everything has been done in an attempt to get these bats to leave but alas, to no avail.<br />
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I happily believed this until I tried to google some more info on this supposed "fact". I saw that fellow bloggers <a href="http://chardonas.blogspot.com/2008/11/invasion-of-bats-culinary-delights-part.html">Abena</a> and <a href="http://hollisramblings.blogspot.com/2008/06/mysterious-bats-of-accra.html">Holli</a> had also blogged on this topic substituting the Kwahu chief with chiefs from other regions! Nevertheless, it's a good myth and one I thought I'd share.<br />
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Now a few things I've been ruminating about in the last few days:<br />
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1. Why is "37" called "37"? I must have asked about 7 people and nobody's been able to give me an answer. Not even a guess. So can anybody help satisfy my curious mind?<br />
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2. I think I've seen enough penises this week to last a lifetime. Seriously the amount of men I've seen flapping in the wind as they relieve their bladders beggars belief. Not everybody will do you the favour of facing a wall even. Oh no. "Check me out!" they seem to scream as you're visually assaulted by tubes of flesh<br />
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3. Judging by the strange consistency it seems to be turning, I don't think you're supposed to put milk into Hausa koko....<br />
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<i>Currently listening to: </i><b>Sweet thing-</b> <i>Rufus and Chaka Khan</i>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-45550589014728372142009-10-25T19:15:00.059+00:002009-10-25T21:39:12.478+00:00Random musings<b>1.</b> How does one react to unwanted advances from the opposite sex? Seriously this one has been taxing me for the last few days. When I was younger (around 13/14) my friends and I would always do the really cruel <span style="color: blue;">"um I don't think so"</span> with the requisite disgusted look spiel. This all changed one summer afternoon outside Peckham library (under the umbrella- you <i>know</i> that was the spot!) when I messed with the wrong guy. I was chilling with my freshly gelled-down hair and baubles when a tall Jamaican dude asks me for my number in a rather forceful and disrespectful manner. Out came the faux-ghetto London slang: <span style="color: blue;">"Do I know you doe? Why do you think you can stalk me doe? Do you know how old I am? Watch I don't get my man and his bredren dem to come box you!"</span> Everyone knows Peckham boys are no joke and this one was no exception. I was quick to change my tune when old boy pulls out a knife! I felt like I had been touched by holy ghost fire and within seconds I was scrambling for a pen to write down whatever number he wanted! Although that experience is funny to me now, it made me re-evaluate the way I responded to men trying to approach me. I went far into the opposite direction and tried to be as nice as I possibly could when I said "no". However, this would often lead to stalkers who refused to take no for an answer. Say what you like about London men but they are <b><i>persistent</i><span style="font-weight: normal;">! I soon adopted the truthful approach as in <span style="color: blue;">"sure you can have my number but I probably won't pick up when you call."</span> This has been working for me but I think it sometimes comes across as mean when that isn't my intention. So again back to the question- how does one react to unwanted advances from the opposite sex?</span></b><br />
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<b>2</b>. This week, when I've been asked what my name is, at least 3 people have asked me what my "other" name is. Initially I was like "huh"? They would then elaborate that they wished to know what my English name was. Am I missing something here? Is is mandatory for a <b>Ghanaian </b>to have an English name? I'm not English so I don't understand why it's so strange not to have an English name. I'm not throwing any shade at those Ghanaians who do have English names but I'm proud of my name. So there!<br />
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<b>3.</b> I went to the hairdresser a few days ago and as the lady was washing my hair, I heard her telling a colleague to look at my ears. (She clearly didn't realise I understood twi and I wasn't inclined to correct her lol!) I have quite a lot of piercings in my ears and now I'm wondering whether piercings in Ghana are a big deal. I wanted to tell her that I've even done well by removing 3 of my 10 piercings.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBaQWrVgK96x6ZoH4NIYOLrR4KlHDPvorvbFNDV7d4piqB9o_5oSxDogzl9wh-aSGwcU66rSNh33c9pVtmzwHr9z8vUTaLIGYoKmcSgZkZGSe_fFRfsxP-RUu6E-AFhNUvjWtUr9LRPc/s1600-h/piercings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiBaQWrVgK96x6ZoH4NIYOLrR4KlHDPvorvbFNDV7d4piqB9o_5oSxDogzl9wh-aSGwcU66rSNh33c9pVtmzwHr9z8vUTaLIGYoKmcSgZkZGSe_fFRfsxP-RUu6E-AFhNUvjWtUr9LRPc/s200/piercings.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>I have 4 of the ones pictured above, and no, I'm not a punk! Lol!<br />
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<b>4. </b>Is it just me or do Ghanaians have no regard for personal space? I've been touched more times than I care to remember this week by complete strangers. For somebody who is the antithesis of a "touchy-feely" person, this is going to take some getting used to....<br />
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<span style="color: purple;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(I have to give some love to my Liverpool boys. 2-0 to the Liverpool! You'll never walk alone indeed! Sorry to all the Man. U fans out there. Or not! OK, I'm done now lol)</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Also, my friend <b>Nsoromma</b> joined the personal blogging brigade so show her some love over at <a href="http://baringtestament.blogspot.com/">"Baring Testament"</a></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://ear-piercings.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/different-ear-piercings.jpg">Image source</a></span><br />
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<b>Currently listening to: <i>The Seed (2.0)</i>- Cody Chesnutt ft. The Roots</b>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-36880407867246131032009-10-22T10:35:00.000+01:002009-10-22T10:35:21.894+01:00Some first impressionsI'm staying in Airport, a mere stone's throw away from the famous Accra Mall so that's where I decided to venture. Man, I thought I was a pro at crossing the road <i>basa basa </i>but Accra roads have put the fear of God in my heart! I swear I saw cars going in different directions on the <i>same</i> half of the road. I don't think I've quite recovered yet...<br />
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As for Accra Mall? It's cool I guess but I really hated feeling like I was on a catwalk due to all the stares up and down I received as I meandered my way around the shops. I really hate being stared at so I don't know how I'm going to cope. I wasn't dressed up or anything, especially compared to all the girls I saw in their raving gear and weavalicious glory, so why the staring? This staring not be small either. Thorough appraisal is the order of the day. From the soles of your feet to the tips of your hair and back again. I felt like asking one woman if I had passed her test! The prices are a serious piss-take though. I saw the newest Dan Brown book in a bookstore there for 50GHC. Are you having a laugh? I really hope there's a cheaper place to buy books somewhere in Accra (somebody help a sister out). My brain must be prevented from turning into mush. I had a pure geeky moment though when I saw my Dad's books and excitedly called to tell him. He was underwhelmed, to say the least :-p<br />
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I must also have a <b>FRESH MEAT</b> sign lit up in neon colours over my head because talk about being a target for the con artists extraordinaire. I may not yet know the ins and outs of Accra but one thing I absolutely detest is being ripped off and for that reason alone, the (little) money I have is staying firmly in my pocket.<br />
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It's strange hardly knowing anybody my age)here and oddly ironic since I usually spend my time hiding from people I know (no offence!). I hope to attend my very first <a href="http://www.ghanablogging.com/">Ghana Blogging</a> meeting next week so I'll hopefully begin to remedy this situation. All in all, I've had absolutely no worries so far, although I'm sure that will change, and I'm enjoying my joblessness for the meantime. I'm eager to see the "real" Accra (if there's any such thing) because I'm well aware that I'm being extremely pampered where I am. Not that I mind....<br />
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<i>Currently listening to</i>: <b>In the morning</b><i>- Ledisi</i>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-24700315863860512642009-10-21T13:36:00.000+01:002009-10-21T13:36:04.194+01:00Welcome to Accra!Wow I guess I can no longer complain when my friends refer to me as "lastminute.com". I bought a ticket to Accra only 5 days ago and this morning I finally landed at Kotoka International! I've been talking for a good 5 years about how I need to go back to Ghana and since it's been over 10 years since I last set foot on our lovely shores, I think it's long overdue. I left London like a ninja so apologies to all the people I couldn't say a proper goodbye to but you'll see me soon enough. I'm here for at least 3 months and I hope to extend this if I can find a job. I was too busy to be excited in the days leading up to this trip but as soon as I landed this morning, I could barely contain myself. I'm equal parts scared shitless and excited for the possibilities. I'm not 100% sure on what exactly I aim to achieve on this trip but I'm excited to find out.<br />
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I don't miss London quite yet but I'm sure it's only a matter of time. I'm itching to go and explore my little corner of Accra on foot, but I'm not sure how wise that is. Oh screw it, I guess there's only one way to find out! Will write a proper post later about first impressions if I make it back in one piece lol.Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-69611342328030510902009-10-12T12:58:00.000+01:002009-10-12T12:58:26.443+01:00Happy birthday to me!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyuW5cwIpcHM6ELejPcKq9492iBqUyzkNFCTOwzG0D06q_sGwIECHm0TXj9oW9qKERggn1ymkGzjCAnk3u18HibdBVDyKqC9tsOU2ObyosT7c9R2PJfatvFYPH0ejD7xB9uBlD8ly_vU/s1600-h/birthday.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQyuW5cwIpcHM6ELejPcKq9492iBqUyzkNFCTOwzG0D06q_sGwIECHm0TXj9oW9qKERggn1ymkGzjCAnk3u18HibdBVDyKqC9tsOU2ObyosT7c9R2PJfatvFYPH0ejD7xB9uBlD8ly_vU/s320/birthday.jpg" /></a><br />
</div>Another year older today and I feel good! I usually have pretty crappy birthdays due to too much self-reflection and general "verklempt-ness" but forget that this year. Some people went to bed last night and never woke up again so I'm going to cherish every moment of this day. I also refuse to feel scared about growing older because as my Dad says "If you don't grow older, you die!" I'm happy to be alive and I thank the Almighty God for reaching another milestone. This past year may have had more downs than ups but I look to the future today. So here's to many more years for me!<br />
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<i><b>Currently listening to</b></i><b>: Temperature Rising- </b><i><b>Les Nubians</b></i>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-60378672228288479932009-10-06T15:12:00.000+01:002009-10-06T15:12:53.333+01:00No sex please, we're Ghanaian!I was reading fellow blogger Esi's post on <a href="http://maameous.blogspot.com/2009/01/calling-them-out-why-do-ghanaian-men.html">'Why do Ghanaian men lie about sex?'</a> and it got me thinking about the lies we tell about sex in general. I've been exposed to distinctly different groups of people in my lifetime and everybody, apart from Ghanaians, seems to be relatively open about sex. Fair enough you have the people who insist on over-sharing all the minutiae of their sex lives with you, leading you to wish you could clean out your ears with some strong bleach, but this is most definitely not the case in Ghanaian circles. I feel that although Ghanaians outside Ghana claim to be a little more liberal, we're still very much bound by our "<span style="color: #38761d;">Ghanaianess</span>" when it comes to sex. So why do we make it so difficult to talk about sex?<br />
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For me, I think this all stems from <b>religion</b>. Ghanaians, in general, are a pretty religious bunch and our good Lord tells us that sex before marriage is wrong. I'm not disputing this but why pretend that we all follow this rule? People will happily put up their hands and admit to other sins but as for sex? We've become amazingly adept at adopting the "What you talking 'bout Willis?" stance whenever the topic comes up.<br />
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If it's to be believed, Ghana is the only country that can claim that all her unmarried women are virgins! A "<span style="color: red;">fallen woman</span>" <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(haaaaaaate that term)</span> is apparently not far removed from robbers, rapists, and others making up the dregs of society. However, is it too much to accept being religious without being a complete hypocrite? We're expected to sit at weddings where everybody (including the pastor) will pretend that he is marrying two virgins who will now go forth and multiply (in a sanctified manner of course!). Everybody can happily know about the time the couple broke up because the groom slept with her (now former) best friend, about the time she got drunk and kissed his brother, etc. etc. but we will still expect her to don the whitest of white gowns and everybody will happily go along with the charade. Now I ask you, what kind of fuckeries is that?!<br />
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Aside from the people straight up lying that they're virgins, you get the "everything but" people. These are the ones that will still claim they're virgins when they've done everything in each and every way aside from actual vaginal penetration. Now does that truly qualify one to claim the "virgin" tag? And it always seems to be these very same people that will jump up and claim that so and so has has slept with this and that person. These same ones that judge other people about what they like to pretend they're not doing.<br />
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Now I'm a firm believer in the whole "what you do is your business" spiel but why lie about sex and then proceed to judge other people for it? I felt this keenly when reading Nana Darkoa's blog <a href="http://adventuresfrom.com/">Adventures from the Bedrooms of African Women</a>. African (particularly Ghanaian) women are just as interested in sex as anybody else but why don't we seem to talk about it beyond the relative anonymity of the computer screen. I think I can be somewhat guilty of this because even though I can be pretty open with certain friends about sex, I have other close friendships that happily perpetuate the pretense of <b><span style="color: purple;">"No sex please, we're Ghanaian"</span></b>! Whether or not we're having sex, the topic will be happily glossed over and everybody remains content in the belief that as long as we don't talk about it, we can pretend it doesn't exist. However, this could all just be in my experience but I strongly suspect that this is not the case. So what say you? Why do Ghanaian women pretend that they're not having sex? And if they are, they damn well better not be enjoying it too! The cheek....<br />
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<a href="http://cheezburger.com/view.aspx?ciid=3187393">Image source</a>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-36807596175891620702009-10-03T04:27:00.000+01:002009-10-03T04:27:29.653+01:00The NOISEttesI feel like I've been missing in action for a little bit but will remedy that soon, I promise! In the meantime I thought I'd share some music by The Noisettes. They're an English band headed by my secret girl-crush Shingai Shoniwa (I think I would be willing to consider murder for her hair...). Great singer and equally fantastic bass player. Hope you enjoy!<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre;"><object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bC5g9pBhang&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bC5g9pBhang&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object></span>Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5065331267452604294.post-41474259729524297462009-09-22T02:34:00.000+01:002009-09-22T02:34:29.876+01:00The MusicianSo I called the "ex" today. (He will henceforth be known as "the musician ex" to distinguish him from anyone else.) I don't know why I did but I woke up this morning thinking of him as usual and just decided to call him. Didn't think twice, just did it. I hadn't spoken to him since I found out about his child and it was strange, to say the least. He was surprised to hear from me and he apologised again for the way I found out, the way he treated me, etc. I think I actually believed him this time.<br />
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The worst part was hearing his voice because it felt like coming home. Frankly, I was horrified. This is somebody I'm supposedly getting over and the sound of his voice alone made me <i>happy</i>. Keep in mind I hadn't even escaped fully from his voice because I kept hearing his song everywhere I went. Barbecue? They'd play his damn song. On the bus? Some obnoxious teenager would be blasting it through her mobile speakers. Walking down the road? I'd hear somebody playing it in their car. You get the picture. This damn song that decided to blow up all of a sudden just to punish me!<br />
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I think part of me decided to call him because I'd rather have him in my life and have it take longer to get over him, than not have him in my life (even though it shortens the mourning period). I don't know if I'm making any kind of sense. I mean I'm willing to put up with the punishment of being around him even though I'm not with him than be apart from him completely. He was my friend and I don't want to lose that friend along with the person I was dating (I refuse to use the word <i>boyfriend</i>). I know people insist that you can't be friends with your ex but I've managed to stay cool with every man I've dated before (although some took a <b><i>lot</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"> longer than others).</span></b><br />
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I've missed him immensely and now he wants to see me. I don't know if I'm ready for that quite yet. We'll see. I'm scared to set myself up for another fall. I guess we'll see how this "friendship" thing goes. I guess I really am a glutton for punishment. Pray for me!Sankofahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15747229111296889760noreply@blogger.com3