Hollywood Escapism

Wouldn't I love to attend a posh Hollywood Soiree...imagine if it would be fun. And then people would ask, "Oh what did you do this weekend?" Instead of the usual answer, "Nothing much, hang around and listened to music as I surfed the web." I would say, "Oh, did you know that Bruce Willis had a little shindig over at his Hollywood mansion. Nothing fancy, just a few close friends and family, we kept it tight, you know. Oh but, he handed out D&G diamond encrusted bracelets as parting gifts for us guests." while I flash mine adorning my wrist.

Oh Wowie! someone once said be careful what you wish for I wonder if what I just said qualifies as one of those things.

I haven't gone to see Keanu's new movie yet...Hardball. And I call myself a fan. It's 3 weeks old at the theater now.

I slept for 3 hours this afternoon. I don't know what is exhausting me these days but I am always weak. Weak. Hours after I wake up, then I slowly fall into some demise of tiredness and hopeless yawning. Maybe it's my brain telling me its bored and unsatitsfied with the lacklustre life I am living.

"Do something, I don't care what you do, just do something girl. I am fucking BORED in here."---my brain screaming to me just before I launch into a loud tear dropping yawn.

I am so bored I contemplated reading some of my old entries, and my fanfiction especially the ones about Keanu just to set me in a nice romantic atmosphere, imagining I am there with him as the stories unfold, or just to bring a coy smile to my face. Sad isn't it. I am thinking of writing a sequel. When they finally fall in love, take their undercover emotions to a higher level, but I am hoping someone will help me, maybe co-write it with me. I am tried of waiting for HBO to take me up on the offer to produce it into a sitcom. And No they do not know anything about it. I just want them to, possibly miraculously come across my site and read the story and love it---like I do. But I'ma still write the sequel though. For my self.

I have thought about...we are truly writing some of these stories for our selves. No one else will feel as content as you would whenever you read up on your old thoughts on paper.

I had some stuff on my wishlist I was actually expecting some people, mysterious people to buy for me. eg. Men Before 10am Too by Veronique Vial. I don't know why I keep living on miracles.

Now, everyone go buy the India. Arie CD---Acoustic Soul. It rocks out man. It does.

"Every time you come around something magnetic pulls me and I can't get out. So captivating I can't tell my up from down / all I know is that I wanna lay down."

Today the 28th of September made it the 2nd year since I officially got sworn in as a Solicitor and Advocate of the Nigerian Bar.

It feels good just to say that. But not as good as it felt really that day when I heard my name called and I walked up the podium to accept my certificate. It was wonderful. Far better than any rush of adrenaline fire power known to man. Better than alcohol, jumping off a building, better than sex. Yes, it was. I just felt so free, and relaxed like the tense air I had been breathing for the past 6 or more years of my educational life had been cleansed and eased off, being blown with a cleansing breeze, and the dust allowed to fall off onto the floor for me to trample on with my high-heel shoes and black suit---which were the outfits we were ordered to wear for the ceremony.

Has my life changed since then...hell yeah. But not so much for the better. And in some ways more of a learning and growing experience much more than a good experience. I haven't had any children or added any other degree to my accolade which are the attributes now of all the people I went to school with. I have just grown and fattened in my state of despair. I now know that you have to enjoy that last day of schoool and stretch the excitement and elation as far as it would go for all its worth because after then, the real world comes in. And then, if you do not make the right decision somewhere along the line it might just be downhill. Like I somehow suspect it was for me.

I got fatter: The dress I wore that day, the jacket and even the shoes no longer fit me. Am I happy about it? NO. But can I do something about it. I hope so. But...I'll leave that to my psyche.

I have a deeper appreciation for myself: For who I am as a woman, and what I want. And I know better than to pursue a course of study just because it sounds prestigious and not because it has potential or I enjoy it. That was my main reason for wanting to be a lawyer. I was smart so everyone figured, "Hey! you're smart, you should do something with your brain" And so I did. I am not too sure it was the best thing I could do with my brain. I did pass my Bar exams with Honors but everything else from there...I didn't pass. I was too disatisfied to care.

I now know more about love and about life, and I have broadened my area of study. Back then, I knew diddly squat about computers, WWW, building webpages, HTML, powerpoint, Word and about anything else. All I wanted was to have a cool boyfriend who would fall hopelessly in love with me. We would go to clubs and do stuff during the weekend and then we would grow to become a "couple."

Such low ambitions I had. Then, being a feminist was just a word that I heard in movies, I never figured I would be living and loving to live as one. But that's life, we bite the fingers that had one day slapped us.

I remember then, I was hopelessly pursuing this guy Kevin. He wasn't all that. But did I think so at the time. Nope. He had broken up with me but we still used to hook up once inawhile. And then that weekend of my graduation, he vanished. He didn't wwant to take my calls, or see me. I called his friends incessantly to try to get a message to him. But he still pretended like he didn't know me. I remember driving up to his house which was in some god-awful neighbourhood, and seeing him drive out, smirking to himself with surprise, suprise, his girlfriend in the car with him. He had the decency (because he knew i came from very far) to stop and peak to me, but he refused to let me inside the house for fears the girl might "beat" me down or something. Then, I asked him, nicely, "Would you come to my graduation with me?'

To which he replied, "Why would I want to do a thing like that?" His face straught dripping with arrogance.
I don't think I have ever felt as much chill run through me from discontenet as I felt right then and there. It wwas all too much to handle in just one afternoon.

Thank God I was slim back then, can you imagine if it had happened now that I am overweight. I wouldn't have had an ounce of self-confidence to find my way home. But I did. And I moved on, and moved out. And I went on to discover myself...which really isn't too bad.

So here's to me and becoming me...and to becoming what I truly want to be...special.

Stuff of Friendships

My friend wrote this to me yesterday. 

It was OGO actually whose birthday was on Monday. She acknowledged the fact that we have both become closer to God, (what you do when you are in a predicament) and she said she's coming down here soon and then:

thanks friend. we are both closer to our god now. take care and god blesss and looking forward to seeing you.

Sometimes it makes you feel good to hear that, "friend" and "look forward to seeing you" and it's been so long since I had someone to share girl talk with...asides from my journal.

I'll fill you in when she does come in.

As I wrote down the entries in my diary I thought aloud to myself:

"No one's ever gonna fucking understand your psyche, what the fuck you're talking about, or why you talk about irrelevant stuff all the time?"

But I didn't care. Because this is a diary...about me. Mine. It is where I am free to be me...and I should always have at the back of my mind that I am writing it for me, for reference to me, so that in the times when I am down, I can refer to it and put my self in that place where I was at the time I wrote it. You see in the midst of all this online/world wide web diary idea we sort of lost the intial reasoning behind a journal. It is for us. If it were written on pen and paper in a little decorative notebook somewhere, you think we would want anyone to read it. Nope. So why do we want people to read it now...and like it or understand it, or anything that bizarre.


Now, that I have said my peace, I feel better. So I am free to talk about my crush, or my sexual fantasies--since I haven't had sex in so long---or talk about anything the heck I want to, and I really don't want to be worried if I am popular or not.

I find very few journals fascinating because they write down their thoughts as well, that's always more intriguing than: "I went to buy a dress, a long dress, a blue dress, I went to lunch ate fish and tofu...blah, blah, blah..."

I read up on Kurt Cobain on last month's issue of Spin. The headline read:


"You gotta read Kurt's journals. He wrote obsessively and there were literally hundreds of unsent letters...No one else had read them except for Kurt and Courtney. They (the journals) reveal him to be both very disturbed and brilliant."


A journal is supposed to say a lot about a person...and in some ways privacy means a lot too. That's what I want mine to be...about me, represent the thoughts I keep locked up inside, I wish I could tell someone knowing no one would understand, and still I urge to release out of me. Just something that represents me.


I don't want to be popular...I just want to have a reference of what the other side of me looks like...ugly, clear, precise, childish, playful, petty, misunderstood, horny or whatever indication it may represent.

It should just be me...anita.

He walks in while I sit by the window in my huge arm chair staring at the twinkling stars of the glowing moonlight so I don't even hear his faint footsteps as he inches his way towards me.

But then something, maybe the smell of him or his nearness a few feet from me, makes me turn round, and I see him, there, right there, facing me, looking at me with those kind, careful eyes. He is afraid of my reaction that he is here, that he has come to invade me, my demise into abandonment, my sought peace, my privacy after running away from him. He continues to stare solidly afraid that my next words might not be so kind.

I swallow deeply and feel my legs congeal as I get up slowly to move towards him, just as he simultaneously walks to me. Our footsteps barely touch the wooden slabs of the cabin, as we make our way to each other. They are so gentle that I can hear him breath, pant and force the air out of his nostrils, and I can hear mine make an equally obstructive noise in comparison to the composed rhythm of his.

"I'm sorry," he begins with a chilly voice I recognize as his, just before I can catch my breath from his proximity. "I'm sorry for not loving you when you wanted to love me, I am sorry for ever considering I could choose another over you, I am sorry that...I had to let you leave just so I could come find you."

"How did you know where I was?" I ask the stupid question. Stupid because I had been leaving clues all over town with his friends and acquaintances so much that the only thing left for me to do was put an ad in the paper.

He stops to digest my "stupid" question and I beg him silently not to give me an equally stupid answer that would ridicule me. As he thinks of what to answer I stare into those smoldering dark eyes, that have retreated into their holes from unhappiness, loneliness, anxiety, and everything losing me may have caused, and ask myself if I really meant that much to him.

He takes out a long deep breath that lets me feel the warmth of hot air flush upon my skin and cause goosebumps on it like a rash...and then says, "I followed the smell of you, I guess...and it led me straight to you."

Then, I heave a sigh of relief and astonish how I could have possibly made it through one month without some one as loving, and kind and beautiful hearted as he. How could I?

He comes to me and takes me in his strong comforting arms and whispers in my ears. "It is right, and I know it, and I feel it. But you are gonna have to feel it with me...does it feel right to you?" He asks, just as he pleasures my mouth with the softness of his. His tongue far-reaches into my tingling insides, harassing mine, and tickling it that it sends hormones surging to my brians. I am in a daze lost in the reality of my darydream brought to life. My eyes spin slightly but his strong hold on me keeps me standing unless, I would drop to the ground from faintedness.

So this is what kissing him feels like, this is what his tongue, his mouth, him feels like, and this is what I have been missing for the past 3 years. I push back my chuckle and concentrate on the events at hand, the man in my arms, and the warm lips on mine.

He brings up his mouth, and asks again, "Does, it feel right to you?"

I am panting, sweating, bursting with incombustible heat that is stemming all the way down to the insides of my thighs, moistening up in between my legs, and throbbing my womanhood to pay attention and take notice.

I hold his hair, no, I clutch his uncooperative shock of black hair, squeezing it in between my fingers, and then I push his mouth against mine. As I force my tongue into his to hear the pounding of his heart next to mine, I barely manage to whisper, "Yes, yes, yes, it feels good," in a muffled, choked up voice that sounded like my squeaky own.

He pulls away his mouth from mine, holds my face and looks me square in the eye, forcing my clasped eyes to open and stare into his.

"I love you, Shelia," he says with such certainty and sincerity. Those words have never made so much meaning until you have heard and longed for them from a man you've secretly loved for 3 years. I swallow hard, the spit landing in my panting lungs. He continues, "I know I do."
And I...

as you can see I have lost my mind. This is my dream about my one and only true love, whom I may never meet and may never get to act out my fantasies, but I will always happen to love...K. Thank you.

the prologue of this story is contained at: Simple Kind of Life... Story of perfect protracted friendship between a man and a woman.

With the disappointing month I have been having someone had the guts to put this message through one of my lists:

Is there any task in life that you do regularly (such as writing) that you
once enjoyed but now it feels like work to you- an obligation? Why do you think
that you lost the joy that used to accompany that task? Is there anything
you can do to regain the pleasure that you first felt when doing that
activity?

Well, let's see how this answer goes:

I used to enjoy writing, being by myself, having or savoring sexual thoughts about men I may never meet.

I used to enjoy eating with the hopes that an ounce of fat would not be left to accumulate in my body or that I would have ample time or a busy schedule lined ahead that would enable me ot work it off.

I used to enjoy going to the movies and watching a double feature of R rated movies or any movies at all without worrying if there would be any bad language spoken or violence that is not children friendly in it. I used to enjoy long walks and watching, waiting at cafes for the nice gentleman in the corner with his stale cup of coffee to come chat me up.

I used to enjoy writing what I visualize exactly as I have envisioned them without worrying if this may really be what the reader gets to see when they read it, or hoping they do get to see it exactly as I envisioned and happy that my little visionary has helped them see the light in themselves.

I could go on and on and on...the things I enjoy none of them makes sense to me anymore...something in me numbed out enjoyment and in its stead put in gore, regret, pain, and bitterness.

I am just a clover leaf afloat on life's merry wind chimes waiting for the storm to brew and toss me into a garbage where I once came, where it feels comfortably like home.

What if you were suddenly faced with the sad painful realization that:

You might not get that fancy job that pays 6 (or 7) figures that you dreamed of.

You might not get that condo with wooden floors in the upper side of town and little or no boring walls to interrupt your view or some cultural district where you can eat lunches at the park and vist musuems during the winter and,

You may not be able to give mind-numbing amounts of money to charirty or afford to dedicate an ounce of your time to any charitable organization why? because your presence at any of their functions is not worth anything.

You may not be able to fly to Europe spontaneously for vacations in the summer.

You may never be able to afford to go to a fancy, FANCY real expensive restaurant and order for yourself and some people in your party with the faithful assurance that you could pay the bill.

You may not be able to go to a designer boutique knowing that you came to buy. To Buy and Not to Look.

You may not be able to thank your family financially and otherwise for their kindess and your upbringing, and

You may never be able to meet that one guy who makes you smile and happy from the inside out, and makes your heart want to jump out and say thank you at every quiet moment you two spend together, and

You may never be able to find the inner peace that your restless, torn apart heart has always craved.

Well, this sadly is the story of my life.

Every time I find a cause to hope and dream and swim in these unattainable dreams I harbor something causes me to think aloud, and ask, "So what if you don't get these things in your lifetime? So what?"

I know what? My life will never be the same, and my soul will continue to roam even when I am gone knowing that these were the things I set out as my purpose and they were somehow stripped from me.

Have I ever considered the thought that they may never happen? Yes. Sometimes. In fact every time...in between my brief moments of living in someone else's life and as an alter ego, I have brief spasms of the horror that is who I really am and I live in that horror for only a millisecond before I revert to the overjoyous, amusing, cynical alter ego...who has peace living and breathing in someone else's shoes. Do I want to come back to who I am? Yes. Surely I do. I just can't. I feel like I am trapped in this path and begging to be let loose. I want to think, to breathe, to have normal 27 year old problems not to think 'what next after college, what next? or who is cuter than who or who sings better than who...not now not at this age not with the level of achievement I have undergone. Not me. I was handed the short stick and that stick is beating me and pounding me to death and I have no one to talk to about it. And no one can help me. This alter ego is the only way I have of staying sane, sober, and ALIVE.

This is me from a week ago begging to be let back to ME. And sadly, this is still the mindset of me, NOW.

Have you ever had a problem that has lasted so long that you suddenly think that frustrated is not a good enough word to kindly encapsulate the generality and futility of its resolution?

I have that same problem staring at me close at hand and it has lasted so long, that sometimes I think I lived life as another being, in another person, as some body else when I didn't have that problem hovering over me, and that this new person has forver been burdened with this to last all their life.

Frustration is not what I call it. It is more of futile and in some ways life-theatening so much that my sanity seems to be dangling by a thread.

I read someone's journal today, actually, Kalemachka, where she said that the terrorists that attacked the WTC and etc might not have HATED US (as we thought was the case) but where possibly, instead FRUSTRATED. They might have felt like a frustrated little ant trying to get their points of life and co-habitation across to the big being known as MAN, and trying to resolve possible ways at both of them having a fair share of life without running into each other or being bullied by Big Man.

I can relate to that. Why? Because believe it or not...this problem of mine does involve some measure of frustration at its evasive resolution, and it also involves some amount of bullying, pressuring, trampling and dwindling hope of co-habitation with me and the ideals in me. Because the problem is trampling on my existence, on my sanity on my life as God must have somehow thought it out to be; and no matter how I try to exhale in the choking whirlwind of its compressure, I can't breathe well, I still seem to be choking with every conflicting angle that rears its head.

I DO NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.

This song is one of the main reasons why I love my Alicia Keys CD to death.

The lyrics always make me feel like she is talking about me in my moment of troubles, and how much I have to hold on just in case everything somehow magically works out for me eventually. I thank God that successful artists like her could have felt this way at some time, it reassures you that if they could make it, after the tough times and the down times, and the moments when you ask yourself incessantly, "why me?", if they could go through all that and come out on top, then maybe, just maybe, so can you.

If your troubled, you just gotta let it go
If your worried baby, you just gotta let it go
All your hustlins ain't for nothing, you just gotta take it slow
When you need me baby, all you do is let me know

Why does it feel that my mind is constantly trying to pull me down
I can't seem to get away
Continuous mistakes I know I made before
How long will I feel so out of place

If your troubled, you just gotta let it go
If your worried baby, you just gotta let it go
All your hustlings ain't for nothing, you just gotta take it slow
When you need me baby, all you do is let me know


Happy Birthday to Ogo and Jumoke.
Hip, hip hooray. sorry I forgot your birthdays, but if you are reading this, I haven' t forgotten our friendship. I think that's what's more important.

Keanu in Hardball

I was watching this interview with Keanu Reeves talking about Hardball on Starz One on One.

He looked good. I shall stop, so as not to sound like I drool continously over him. even though I do

But the part that got me---apart from his shaggy hair which he kept fidgeting with in this godly romantic way, flapping and scattering it all over his face in a reckless sexy fashion---is the part with the director, Brian Robbins. They asked him why he chose Keanu for the part.

And he replied that even though Keanu was not his first choice (why?) that after meeting with him he felt that there was so much of a similarity with Keanu and the character, Connor O'Neil in the movie. He said "something about their continuous searching for something, for something in life, that was somewhat similar."

And he was right. Keanu does look like he is searching, for something, like his mind is not settled, like it's elsewhere and where it is, nobody knows really. Every time you see him, his eyes are roving, wandering, with a smile that doesn't cut so deep, and a melancholic charm that begs you to comfort him or just do something crazy just to make him burst out in hysterical laughter..or something.

I foolishly said a silent prayer that he was searching for his lady---and that lady was me.

Cheesy, I know. Today is Sunday, isn't it? Official day for prayer and begging for miracles time.

My advice to anyone reading this--who might be older than 16--please never go websurfing on diaryland, because, I don't know, maybe I am just unlucky but the vast majority of them, either don't bother doing up their pages, and then you have to read these awful web templates all the time or the rest of them are teens going through their punk/rock disdainful phase or a bad break-up.
Gosh! Glad I'm glad I got that off my chest.

I joined some Yahoo clubs, that's another thing that can be tricky, joining clubs on Yahoo, I can't begin to tell you the number of people who have randonmly IM'ed me from getting my IM off the Yahoo interest list. I don't know why...cos' we never seem to have the same interests.

But I joined some clubs that might deoict that kind of "people/hunks/men/male specimen" I am interested in. I was afraid to join an Angelina Jolie Club (even though I adore her) so it wouldn't send off the wrong vibe, you know.

This is the official list:

1)RHCP, well, just Anthony clubs. tiff.
2) BSB...always, always, especially tons of Nicky clubs
3) Keanu Reeves clubs...though not as many as i was in the last time. I cut down when I realized his fans were a little obsessed in the head.
4) Vin Diesel: I am attaching the first message I got once I joined this club, it made me think, why didn't I join these guys before. Shit!
Has anyone heard that the adorable Vin is supposed to be taking off all his clothes in Trippple XXX, and he says that he would enjoy shedding them, isnt that wonderful. I know I am going to like it.
Note: I have a half-nude pic of him in the shower from INSTYLE photo spread. Gosh! the guy has sexy arms.
5) Edward Norton. He is not super handsome but helluva brilliant actor.
6) Mark Wahlberg...he has that sweet, sweet midnight voice contrasting with his hard face...what's not to like?

That is it for now. I think.

Someone sent me these pictures today...I think they are trying to encourage my Anthony addiction...not bad though. This is my first official post of pictures here. I am so happy that I got this weblog thing working..

So here's to many more posts, and finally being content with the look (at least for now) of the main page.

It's the multiple tattoos on this guy that makes me so attracted to him. I have an affinity for bad boys.

I am so bummed out, and totally xhausted. In between building this webpage all weekend, and skipping for about 10 minutes day I can't tell what exactly it is that has me feeling like a I ran a marathon. I am home alone--finally. But not for long so I better hurry up and do what it was I really had a knack for doing, viewing pictures and other things on the web.

I will write something more inspirational, I promise, but my damn head feels like a truck ran over it. Gosh! what's the best way to combact this kind of mental and physical tiredness...what do you think?

Yesterday...actually today is my niece's birthday but we celebrated it yesterday.

First thing we did was go to church, and need I say how packed full it was. Geez, the pastor said he hasn't seen these many people in church for about 50 years. He asked, "Why is it that people run to God when they are in distress but run from him when something sweet happens to them?" And he also said something that made me ponder, "Why do people ask God 'why?' when something bad happens but never ask him, 'why?' when something good does?"
I felt like saying good point there mister.

We, as humans are a selfish kind, we want God only when it is neccessary and convenient in our lives. Then, only then do we acknowledge that there is a supreme being who is in charge of our lives and watches over us for whom we are subservient to, but when we are riding on our coattails of life we feel that, "Yay, there is no other who is above me, all are subject to me, and I am the owner of my destiny." Too bad.

But, I think everyone sort of got the message, and decided it was time to put last weeks happenings in God's graceful hands.

Then, after the powerful submission in church that left everyone except my family speechless, (my bro-in-law found it a little too hard to swallow but then again he finds everything so) we took my niece to brunch, a buffet type of brunch at some mexican place. If I was good with restaurant names I would remember, or if I was the one paying the bill I would remember the name but I can't. She enjoyed it I am sure, especially the part where they gave her icecream and the staff sang Happy Birthday to her. She laughed so hard.

Kids...if only we could see life through their eyes, you would know there is so much peace, love and happiness inside it. They are so easy to please and so easily amused by everything.

Moving on, we went home, and rested to set off again. I put her hair in curlers and did her up nicely because that was my birthday promise to her as her aunt (as you can see I am not a very forthcoming auntie but I try in my own little way) Then, we went into town, saw the rich man's area of town, went to their malls priced some overly expensive goods which we knew we couldn't afford or which we knew we had seen at our malls for half the price. That lasted for about 30 minutes, going to posh areas can be a tad bit uncomfortable and it leaves you with an uncomfortable feeling of inadequacy. (more on that later)

Last place was to Shuki's (I think, as I said, I wasn't paying so I didn't feel at liberty to learn the name of the restaurants) it was a Japanese place where you watch them make everything infront of you---it is my niece's favourite restaurant. The meal didn't last long as we were all famished so we ate voraciously.

Then, we went and had a little party at home, cut the cake, danced around it, took some pictures, she opened her present, we wore our party hats, (yes, even my bro-in-law wore one) and danced to Stevie Wonder's Happy Birthday song. We worked off a good deal of the food and slept late. I was too tired to put in an entry, I am still tired now. an I am sure i left out some juicy detaikls which I will fill you in on later but I am not used to detailing the pace of my life in my journal, I prefer my thoughts and ponders and musings, it's more inspiring.

it is not much but I did something with it. My HTML seems to be getting worse day after day.

Love Rain Down on Me

Nothing to add from the mindset of Aphie. Yesterday's last post was not very encouraging to her readers, and recent readers, so she intended to disssuade you all from thinking that she is often this distraught, upset and emotional. It has just been an emotional week for everyone lately.


What with the country's call to war, the recent demise of the economy, her pending feminity dripping, and her brother's departure back home leaving her home a hollow soft breath without the clanging of his pitch fork on the plate as he eats breakfast, and the irrespressible problem of hers that looms over her, she has had quite a tough time getting a grip of her mind.


And let us not forget her new crush. Somehow, it keeps her alive, I guess...this crush. It keeps your blood flowing when you suddenly find yourself attracted to somebody, like something to do, something to think about that isn't unhealthy, it's like your heart blooms along with the crush. It makes the world a better place.


But she did put down these words, and asked that they be passed on:


"Kissing, holding, snuggling, snuggling up to someone, feeling their morning breath graze the goosebumps on your pale shoulder, smiling at the freckles rise up on your hands, and nudging them to stop snoring to caress your sensitive organ. I long for that so much. At times I put his face on that body when I daydream about these things, at times, I put no one's face, one face is constant, but sometimes depending on who I am crushing on, one person sometimes takes precendence over his. Its all a big bubble, and I am swirling in it, longing to love, longing for love and comfort to rain down on me in torrential showers. How else should I feel when I woke up listening to this song and fell asleep murmuring words from my psycho super sexy...how else should my body react?"


The song: Jill Scott

love rain down on me,on me, down on me



"...at night we would watch

the stars and he would physically give

me each and every one I felt like

cayenne pepper. Red hot spicy.

I felt dizzy and sonya heaven and miles

between my thighs; better than love

we made delicious

he had me tongue tied

I could hear his rhythm in my thoughts

I was his sharp his horn section his

boom and his dip

and he was my love."

When I started this Journalling it was reasonably like a breath of fresh air to me bcause then I had all these feelings, and thoughts, and rabid hatred and angst that I needed to let out to just anyone. I thought I could do so freely with some communities (egroups/mailing lists) that I had joined, but that only made it worse. I got to see a different side to people online and the side I wanted which was a friend was the side least given to me. Then, I felt my sanity crumbling until I came across someone's journal on diaryland, and it opened up my eyes and mind to a venue where one's thoughts are not judged or criticized but open and free and let out, without choking up inside them.


Now that I have it I can say that the measure of my dwindling sanity at the time has been somewhat reduced by at least 20% since I got it. (it would be better if I had more friends, better hits or someone on my notify list but I am not complaining. we do not have diaries to be popular or competitive, we have them to resolve the issues inside us on the web)


But this problem of mine...still remains. Diary/journal or not.