tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14852898177394831422024-03-13T18:29:16.829-07:00ImotedaImotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-139744595413202192014-02-04T09:01:00.000-08:002014-02-04T20:43:25.584-08:00Life is already a movie... 10 RomCom staples that have happened to me and probably you<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So today, I was making my daughter lunch and singing along to "Can't remember to forget you" by Rihanna and Shakira. I saw the video the other day and I went full lesbian. It's sooooo sexy. It's not full of nekkidness and raunchy dance moves (okay maybe) but it's sooo sexy still. That's sexy; not twerking and nekkid bodies.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Anyways I sang the line "But when you look at me, the only memory, </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">is us kissing in the moonlight" and I thought to myself "Why have I never kissed in the moonlight? WHy is my own love life just DRY!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then it occurred to me. Wait kissing in the moonlight, that's just kissing at night right? Outside? While the moon is out? Abi am I wrong? If that's the case most of my kissing life has been spent kissing in the moonlight. I mean I lived with my parents when I started dating so kissing was usually done outside and after my summer program. And then I moved to college where I could kiss without hiding but I still had classes and roommates and dates tend to happen at night. So yea, kissing in the moonlight is really not that different or romantic really. It's just what you do.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I guess the major difference is that there is no award winning composer scoring each "kissing in the moonlight moment" with appropriately sappy string music. That would be awesome. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">annoying.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So of-course I got to thinking about my life and RomComs and the similarities. Here's ten things that have happened in movies and in my life that seemed way cuter/funnier/sexier/romantic-er thanks to Hollywood and they've probably happened to you too:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1) <b>The meet cute</b>- I was walking through Walmart buying toiletries, I reached to pick a box of tampons and my cart promptly ran away from me and right into him. I ran over "Oh my God! I am so so so sorry!" He said it was fine, introduced himself and I introduced myself then blushed at the box of tampons I was flourishing at him. Hello meet cute. It so didn't seem movie worthy then but variations of this scenario have been tugging on our heartstrings on the big screens for years!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2) <b>The embarrassing moment in bed</b>- queef/accidentally kicking him in the face/ a line of drool falling from his mouth to your face (this has happened to me...tears)/farting in bed. It has happened to us all. I just really wish there was a laugh track to help us get out of these awkward situations. Sigh</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3) <b>The first kiss in the middle of a sentence</b>. If this hasn't happened to you sorry. The best part of this one is that unlike in the movies, you don't know when it's coming.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">4)<b>The completely embarrassing yourself post breakup attempt to get him back</b>- Remember that scene with Meredith Grey going "Pick Me! Choose Me!" Yea I've done that. Watching it was almost as bad as me repeating it. Sidenote: he did not choose me. Hot ass tears man</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">5) <b>The heated argument that makes you think this is the end</b>- and then it's not. I remember not sleeping the night of my first boyfriend and I's very first major MAJOR fight. I was totally devastated. And then he called the next morning. I really wish I could recapture that feeling because it was AWESOME!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">6) <b>walking down the road holding hands, nudging each other and smiling but not actually talking</b>- This is the moment that get's us in movies isn't it? You may not realize it but you're looking at them going "</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">awww look they don't even have to talk. They're having so much fun shoulder bumping each other!" Yea well you've definitely done it too so chill girl... chill</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">7) <b>The cheesy stolen from a movie/song/video line or action</b>- I told a guy I was "dangerously in love" with him. I actually meant it as a joke but he took it totes seriously and then told me he loved me. Thank you Beyonce!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">8)<b> The good first time</b>- I mean the first time when a guy looks at you like, "Oh Lord! You mean to say I am deserving of this?" The soft romantic first time with a guy (not necessarily the day you lost your virginity) when everything just clicks and you feel beautiful and he looks amazing and it just... works. This moment should always be scored in real life so you always remember it to music.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">9) <b>The moment you realize this person is someone you could be with forever and ever</b>- It doesn't always last but it's always worth it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">10) <b>The remembering and the follow up smile</b>- You're sitting at your desk and you remember the joke that wasn't that funny. Or the kiss. Or the way he looked at you. Or shyly touched your hand. And you smile that secret smile. I've been heartbroken more times than I care to remember but just typing this I remembered a moment and I am smiling right now. These moments are why I continue to try and they are moments that help you hold on, in movies and in life.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I guess the major difference is that all these moments don't happen with the same guy. You might have one of these moments with 10 different guys or 8 with 1 guy but they do happen. And they take a little longer than 1.5 to 2 hours. But whenever you get down and start wishing for your own fairy tale or hollywood, remember that you're probably already living it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Make sure you enjoy it</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Strawberry Kisses & Caviar dreams </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Imoteda</span></div>
Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-13202051429008931232013-11-20T12:34:00.000-08:002013-11-20T12:34:04.249-08:00Lots of lonely in this post lovelies... lotsThere's a reason, despite sometimes uploading only four times a year, I haven't deleted this blog...<br />
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It's like a diary of sorts I suppose. Reminds me of little moments and random insignificant yet exceptionally important thoughts that I have once in a while. I maintain it more for myself than for anyone else which is why things like the number of readers or page views or comments or lack of aforementioned things don't bother me. I do appreciate those of you who continue to read the blog. Thanks all four of you. I often come here and read some of my past entries and laugh or shake my head at my own lameness. The latter happens more often than I care to admit.<br />
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Anyhoos... I'm in my nice air conditioned room, laying across my massive bed (it fits four me sized people comfortably. It is HUGE. I keep planning to get rid of it but Im lazy and It's quite nice to be able to literally roll from side to side without worrying about falling off), hugging a hot cappuccino and thinking about how completely, totally, utterly and miserably LONELY I am.<br />
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Sidenote: I've been watching The Mindy Project and reading vampire romance novels simultaneously. Bad idea people.<br />
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Anyways I sent the message about being tired of the single life and needing a boyfriend to about four friends and only two have answered and their answers as expected were absolutely rubbish. One said "Go get bfrend den'. I kid you not, that is exactly how he typed it. I don't understand why I keep this loser as a friend. His typing makes me want to kill kittens. And the other told me my idea to email random people in the hopes that I find and meet a man who turns out to be the love of my life was "worth a shot" (I am also watching You Got Mail at the moment). I guess she means to be supportive but I'm pretty sure she was being sarcastic.<br />
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So after those ground breaking responses, I thought, I should blog about this. Then I thought "How sad is it that I want to share the sad lonely feelings I have with a nameless, faceless mass of internet people who truly don't care about your feelings one way or the other?"(sorry to the two of you who do care. I love you) Then I realized I really don't care about whether or not it's sad, its what I want to do so I'm doing it. And if you know me, you know I generally do what I want even if it is a mistake.<br />
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Oh by the way, remember the Love of my Life? Yea I'm beginning to realize he is definitely NOT the Love of my Life. Mostly because it is clear that while he will indeed have sex with me if we end up in the same vicinity and make polite conversation over bum occasionally, he has absolutely no actual interest in me anymore. Makes me truly sad but the good thing is that now I can go about finding the real Love of my Life. Actually no, that's not good at all. I was somewhat happy waiting for him to realize we were meant to be. The knowledge that this realization is never going to come to him is actually devastating to me. But such is life and I am nothing if not resilient.<br />
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Another side note: If you're wondering if I will also have sex with him if he is in the vicinity, the answer is yes. That he is not the love of my life doesn't change the fact that we are highly compatible in bed and I hate the thought of having sex with a new person. In fact I haven't had sex with a new person in AGES! I just rotate exes when the need arises (should fix that.) (no not really)<br />
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Gosh my church aunt reads this blog. Forgive me!!!!!<br />
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Back to my point... I am lonely and need a boyfriend. Mostly because I need someone to talk to. Like actually talk to. Someone who cares about my feelings and calls me at night and texts me in the morning etc etc etc... I really miss talking to someone... intimately. Not intimately like dirty talk but just ... if you've ever been in a good relationship with open communication you know what I mean. If you haven't, be glad you don't know what you're missing.<br />
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Alright.. I am done.<br />
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Good night lovelies,<br />
I hope no one reading this is as lonely as I am.<br />
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Strawberry Kisses & Caviar Dreams<br />
Imoteda<br />
xoxoImotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-35018507029455265792013-10-14T04:37:00.001-07:002013-10-14T04:37:02.648-07:00Untitled...<div dir="ltr"> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I think I'm okay with telling you these things.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">Probably because I've decided that I'm okay with these feelings I have.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I recognize that I have loved you for years and that I always will and to be quite honest I enjoy that.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I enjoy loving you. Through the pain and heartache and confusion and tantrums, you made me truly happy and that is something I will never regret.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">Can I ever explain to you how you made me feel? People say when they truly care for somebody they can't breathe. Their chest hurts because they're so full of emotions.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">You help me breathe. I hold you and my soul relaxes. I talk to you and I forget the pain and the stress and the complications and I just remember joy.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I guess that's why my love for you has never died. You are difficult and complicated but you are so simple. Sometimes I wonder if you realize how much you say without saying anything. </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I love loving you because loving you reminds me of the love that I am capable of.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">Loving you relaxes me because I know this isn't all that there is. There is so much joy to be had. There is so much laughter left in me. There is caring and longing and lust… so much unexpressed lust.<span style> </span>Loving you is the greatest reminder that there is good out there. Good that is waiting for me to be ready and reach out for it.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">And how can I not want that good with you, you who taught me how to breathe?</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">You who brought me happiness. </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I want that good with you. But you've taught me that happiness comes when it comes and that I must enjoy it in the moment. </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt"> </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I want that good with you but I don't need it to be with you. I just need to continue loving you.</span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">For as long as I love you, I am reminded that that good is out there waiting for me. </span></p> <p class=""><span style="font-size:12pt">I just have to reach out for it.</span></p> <div>Imoteda<div>Chief Everything Officer</div><div>Suteda Beauty</div><div>08106145335</div><div><br></div></div> </div> Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-20324139939210363152013-09-04T13:50:00.000-07:002013-09-04T13:50:41.160-07:00Tyler Perry just preached to me... well sortaand it was... Weird.<br />
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So I got this awesome new job heading the makeup and hair department of a production company called Afriwood (Owned by MSS or MultiChoice the name most people know). It's awesome. I head a whole department!! Granted aside from myself there are only four other people in the department and my office is tiny and looks like an abandoned warehouse, it's still an awesome gig and I love it!!<br />
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Anyways that being said, I was made aware of a few rumors floating around about me yesterday. I generally exist with my head in the clouds and there's a running joke about whether or not I actually work there because of my tendency to leave early and come in late. I figure as long as my work is always done, it doesn't matter what times I'm actually IN the office. And working on my bed is way more comfortable. Sue me.<br />
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Anyways thanks to my not being present in the office 24/7 and being zoned out even when I'm there, little things like rumors and office gossip tend to pass me by. So when the Art Director kept repeatedly asking me if I was okay and hope I wasn't too upset, I was just like "Homie, I just downloaded Rotate and I want to listen to it on repeat for four hours. Why do you keep asking me if I'm upset?!" Turns out a rumor had gone round that he and I were having an affair (he's married with two kids). This didn't bother me much. In fact it didn't bother me AT ALL. I laughed and said "Well I'm sure all the other men are quite jealous of you, after all I am a sexy beast." He was glad I wasn't bothered and the conversation ended there...<br />
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I'm neeeewww in towwwnnnn. I listened to Wande Coal on repeat for a while then mentioned the rumor to one of my artists who looked uncomfortable for a second before saying that she had indeed heard the rumors and she defended me. At this point I was like "SWERVE!! Did you just say rumors? as in more than this one?" Poor girl looked like she wanted to sink into a large hole. Preferably one filled with lava and lava proof alligators.<br />
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She then informed me that there was another rumor. And this one bothered me. A LOT<br />
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So there are four HOD (head of departments). I am by far the youngest, actually I'm younger than almost everyone on the entire crew. I'm also the least experienced in film and television. In life generally. So I'm not surprised that people will question my title. What I was surprised at was that people would assume that I had gotten the job by sleeping with the Executive Producer. And that so many people would believe it. After working with them for two months I thought we were best buds!!!<br />
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So I spent yesterday and today being super worried about it, second guessing my abilities (because if people only believe I got this job through sex, what is my guarantee for future employment?) And then I started wondering why exactly I was picked over everyone else and this was just a downward spiral that ended in me never making it in life and dying in poverty. Yes that escalated quickly.<br />
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And then i read an article on a blog about Tyler Perry's $1M donations to TD Jakes church and his mini sermon during which he said this:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 20px;">“Sometimes you spend too much time worrying about your haters. You spend too much time worrying about people talking about you. But what you need to understand is that the Bible says in order for you to be blessed, your haters have to be present. The book of Psalms says he prepareth a table for me in the presence of my enemies. So in order for me to eat, they have to be present.”</span><br />
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Well that put my mind right at ease. Why do I care what people say about me in their spare time? Why am I second guessing my ENTIRE LIFE because some people don't have enough to do? Who cares who they think I slept with? Regardless of how I got the job (I got recommended and did two interviews and a demo btw) I have the job and I am doing a pretty good job even if I do say so myself. And more jobs will come nit because people want to sleep with me but because this gig will show my strength and lead to better. So thank you Tyler Perry for that. The Lord speaks in strange ways...<br />
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Xoxo<br />
Imoteda<br />
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Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-75332418562369874132013-08-20T03:34:00.001-07:002013-08-20T03:34:21.862-07:00Unreliable Workers<div dir="ltr"> <p class=""><span style> </span>Nigerian workers are so unreliable it gives me a toothache: in addition to the headache that I already have from managing them. The irony of this statement is that my boss is probably saying the same thing as she sits in her office wondering why it is 11 o'clock and I am yet to arrive in mine.</p> <p class=""> </p> <p class=""><span style> </span>The reason is simple; MY employee has refused to show up for work for a straight week. As such I am forced to be in my studio today, because a new student is starting and she cannot meet the mess left over from my photo shoot on Sunday. SO in addition to making me miss my other job, this missing employee of mine has forced me to do my own cleaning. I could have forgiven her for blowing off work, Lord knows I hate work myself, but for the sin of being negligent enough to cause me to actually have to sweep and mop a floor??? She shall reside in the deepest depths of hell. Everyone knows I hate to do my own cleaning. My bedroom is a testimony to this. It gets a good scrub down once a month and for the rest of the month it looks like a volcano erupted and then the debris was scattered around by a hurricane after which Godzilla came with a horde of her children (she laid eggs in the movie, she's a her) to forage for scraps. It's not pretty and I apologize to my future husband (if you are smart baby boo your proposal will come with a ring and three maids). </p> <p class=""> </p> <p class=""><span style> </span>But back to this missing employee, what bothers me the most though is that I have no clue what happened to her. I have called several times with no response and also texted her a nice "you are fired text" which also raised no dust. She also left two sachets of pure water and her phone charger in the studio. Surely if she was planning to quit with no notice, she would have taken her pure water and if not that her phone charger? Also I have quite a bit of product in the studio. Not a king's ransom but enough for her to sell and make… perhaps N20,000 from. Yes I am indeed worried for her. This is Nigeria and as the whole world can testify, there is no place less safe for a young woman than Nigeria. Her head could be as we speak spouting bundles of dollar bills in some guy called Ola "Blinging Dollar" Adeniyi's bedroom. Or she may have been kidnapped and is being held ransom for 12 MTN recharge cards (this really does happen). How bad would I feel if I find out that while I sat here cursing her and her ancestors, some guy who will proceed to use the money to buy lots of ludicrous gold chains and a hummer that will be crashed in less than a year was using her for money ritual? Or if she has been kidnapped? I really hope the latter isn't the case coz the kidnappers may see my many missed calls and mistaken me for someone who cares enough to pay for her release. I will then have to apologetically inform them that I merely wanted to yell at her for causing me to pick up the broom and wish her the best. At the moment I have N1,500 in my wallet and N1,700 in my most used bank account. They can on get one recharge card, as the N1,700 is the minimum balance on that account. Life is indeed hard for a struggling makeup artist. She may never forgive me.</p> <p class=""> </p> <p class=""><span style> </span>Luckily I doubt either scenario is the case. She has probably gotten a better job and thrown me the proverbial "bird" or she's shacked up with a fellow and doesn't have the common decency to send the following text:</p> <p class=""> </p> <p class="" style="margin-left:72pt">"Madam no vex o. I don carry one bobo. D tin e dey do sweet me pass! I no go come work again. I go just dey come"</p> <p class=""> </p> <p class=""> </p> <p class="">See what I did there? </p> <p class=""> </p> <p class="">When all is said and done, Vivienne, I wish you the best. May the fleas of a thousand camels infest your lady bits for the inconvenience you have put me through and may you not be being used for money ritual at the moment.</p> <p class="">Love,</p> <p class="">Your very frustrated employer.</p> <div>Imoteda<div>Chief Everything Officer</div><div>Suteda Beauty</div><div>08106145335</div><div><a href="http://www.sutedabeauty.com" target="_blank">www.sutedabeauty.com</a></div><div><a href="mailto:info@sutedabeauty.com" target="_blank">info@sutedabeauty.com</a></div> </div> </div> Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-44634828183815639592013-03-09T16:42:00.000-08:002013-03-09T16:42:02.959-08:00Why?
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
*I wrote this way back in 2006. Sometimes I feel like I have come for far forward in my life then I read pieces like this and they remind me that I am pretty much the same person I was back then coz I can stiller elate to this. Oh wells. I have decided to post it as is. I typed like a semi retarded donkey)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why are you here?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It aint supposed to be u here</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How did you get here?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was here a second ago</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was that him or has it always been u?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why do you play these gmes with me?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you even play these games with me?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or do I play them with me?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is this all in my mind or is there some soundless motionless
connection that keeps us in check</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reminding us of the rules and ensuring that neither of us
can forfeit?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When u leave then I cant remember</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When ure not here then I know whats rite</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And then I see you and nothings changed</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You pull me back in but are u pullin or am I moving myself?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Willing but unwillingly to be led back into the game?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You smile and I wonder if I factor in your joy</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You think and I wonder if I am the object or subject or any
part of that thot</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if I am does love factor into that thot?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would it be a noun or a verb or a verb</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OR maybe in our case just for once it could be an adjective</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When it comes to me and him I think it’s a synonym</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are love we never needed an equation to figure that one
out</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But if we are love then why am I here and why are u here and
why isn’t he here?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why am I stuck with images of me and him that are fading
away and being replaced with u?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ur eyes, ur lips, ur hands and ur pleasure?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why can I not remember which of u makes me weak</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And when my hands drift why is it ur name that I speak?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But we are synonymous with love me and him</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he smiles I feel so loved</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But when u smile my heart races and I wanna reach out to u</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why is it that when im with him he is the world to me</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But when u come I want to be able to give the world to u</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why do I care about wat we had wen we had</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why do I wish we still had</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if given I choice would I leave the love he gives?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would I end the game we play and declare u winner and give
all to u</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But if I did that would u have won or would I have won or
would we have won?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or maybe we would all lose</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why am I even thinking this?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do u have the same storm raging in ur head?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are u battling the unseen monster that I battle?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do u play the same game with the unknown opponent that u r
not sure whether u want to win or lose?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And if he knew would he stay to see who won?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would he hope it was him or would he give me up to this
thing I feel for u?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This thing that isn’t love but can only be called love?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Would it matter?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Should it matter?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why are u here?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
U aren’t supposed to be here</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who are u?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Is it you or is it him?</div>
<!--EndFragment-->Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-37132152088894529452013-02-10T08:01:00.000-08:002013-02-10T13:28:40.777-08:00There are Somebodies, There are Nobodies and There are Bodies.*forgive me this is a bit wordy and excessively long*<br />
<br />
No sooner had I finished reading<a href="http://lindaikeji.blogspot.com/2013/02/in-nigeria-youre-either-somebody-or.html" target="_blank"> In Nigeria, you're either somebody or nobody- by Adaobi Nwaubani</a> did my current favorite blogger post this <a href="http://theramblingsofamadman-afam.blogspot.com/2013/02/where-in-world-are-you-not-somebody-or.html" target="_blank">little gem </a>, titled "Where in the world are you not Somebody or Nobody? Are you ever just a body?" Being the genius that I am, I had an "AH HA!" moment. Certainly the article I had just read must have inspired this title. You should try having "AH HA!" moments. Tis quite the glorious feeling.<br />
<br />
As I read, I realized that what we have here is a classic case of what Chimamanda Adichie calls "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9Ihs241zeg" target="_blank">The Danger of The Single Story</a>". Click on the link and watch the video if you haven't. It is quite enlightening.<br />
<br />
Adaobi is a pretty genius writer. No her writing is not the strongest nor is it the wittiest. Actually while reading her book there were a few sentences I was tempted to cross out and rewrite but that's because I judge everyone but myself harshly, however she has an amazing understanding of the inner workings of certain parts of Nigeria and writes in such a way that you completely get what it's like to be in a certain place at a certain time. While reading, I Do Not Come To You By Chance, I felt as though I fully understood what it was to be the Opara (first son) in an Igbo household and the pressure to provide for family. I also related to being related (see what I did there?) to an Uncle Boniface (Cashdaddy) because if you're Nigerian chances are that you have one of these. If you haven't read it, you should, it's entertaining. Her writing makes her seem young, jaded and willing to poison the mouse despite knowing the owl will eat the poisoned mouse and die as well. It is quite refreshing.<br />
<br />
Afam's writing is excellent to me because it is wordy, flowery and rambles. It is also clear that he proofreads, something I almost deliberately never do. He has no book for me to dissect but read the blog. It's worth it. He would definitely not poison the mouse, he lacks that ruthlessness and the ability to see the world only in black and white. This is a good thing as much as it is bad.<br />
<br />
Adaobi's story is one of overbearing parents and untrustworthy maids who wear piles of underwear (why does one steal underwear? Things that those of us not besieged with poverty will never understand) and are forever asking for this that and the other. Of people who lose all respect for you when you show them some and of men for whom "Do you know who I am?!" should be recorded on a portable stereo so they do not lose their voices yelling it every five minutes. That is her story.<br />
<br />
As for Afam's story, it is filled with hardworking parents who literally run a small scale economy. 10 staff members (to be honest this boggled my mind. It's more that most small companies have!) PArents who give their support staff the chance to be educated if they choose. Living in a country where you get decent service if you are a nobody and superior service if you are a somebody. His story is one where handwork and opportunity give you the chance to be somebody. That is his story.<br />
<br />
My story is a combination of both. My parents also worked hard from a tiny one bedroom off Akerele St, Surulere to move up in life to their current home in VGC. We have outside staff but not inside staff. THe idea of inside staff makes me shiver (maids, cook, nannies) because while we had the occasional maid when we were younger my parents didn't like the idea and by the time I turned 10 my mother put her foot down. No more maids. The kids can clean, thanks mum! Despite this we still have a security guy, a pool guy, a gardener, a washman and three drivers. That's 8 staff members. Why exactly was my mind boggled by Afam's 10? Mostly because I don't see our staff members as being connected to me in anyway. I do my own laundry, drive myself, answer the door for my guests and when I do need them to do something (like clean my forever messy car) I pay them out of my pocket. But mostly I just ignore them, they have no consequence to me. If they all disappeared tomorrow I would be mildly annoyed that the pool was dirty but then I'd simply clean it myself. However due to my inquisitive nature and lack of the ability to shut up I do have conversations with them where I inquire about their families their backgrounds and whatnots.<br />
<br />
And the one thing these conversations have cemented in my head is that there are Somebodies, there are Nobodies and then there are Bodies.<br />
<br />
See when I lived in Canada I was a "body", I had my little job that paid most of my bills, took care of my daughter and made sure I didn't starve to death. I voted when elections came around, paid my taxes and lived a nice peaceful existence. I was harassed occasionally by bill collectors due to my irritating habit of forgetting to pay bills but as I wasn't Somebody no one rushed to put my name is the papers with the big red words "CHEAPO" underneath. If I died suddenly, I would make the papers, somewhere on page 12, below the fold. In Canada Stephen Harper is Somebody. He is well known, as is fitting of the Prime Minister, he is a person of consequence. If he dies today he would make the papers, Front page news, above the fold. The homeless man I occasionally give a dollar too on my way to my car, he's a nobody. He dies today and no one but other nobodies care or notice even. Maybe a small independent paper might carry the story. Someone might take up the cry about the lack of proper care for the homeless and his dead image (a tasteful one though) might become the banner for that. Regardless he is still dead and a nobody.<br />
<br />
In Nigeria, by association with my parents I am a Somebody. This is not to say that I have the power to do what they do or that I have earned the recognition I get but the fact remains I am a Somebody and so is Afam and so is Adaobi and so are the thousands of other children lucky enough to have been born into money or into families where the parents worked their way into money. As Adaobi stated:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">"The average Nigerian’s best hope for dignified treatment is to acquire the right props. Flashy cars. Praise singers. Elite group membership. British or American accent. Armed escort. These ensure that you will get efficient service at banks and hospitals. If the props prove insufficient, a properly bellowed “Do you know who I am?” could very well do the trick."</span><br />
I have never needed to walk into a room and yell "Do you know who I am?!" but if I did and got the chance to tell who I was someone in there would accord me respect. Mostly it shows on me that I am the child of somebody, ergo I am somebody. I speak with a Canadian accent (often mistaken for american). I carry my head up high and walk into restaurants expecting service. The fact that I walk into restaurants alone in Nigeria cements this fact. If I die tomorrow, for any reason murder, diabetes, choking on a fly while attempting to board a boat in an airplane hangar, I will make the front page, above the fold and Linda Ikeji and all other popular blogs. There will be tributes and there will be people I never spoke to in life who will help my parents lament my loss. I have seen this play out too often when someone in my age group dies and because they are Somebodies the bodies and nobodies of the world come out to share the grief their parents feel. The Somebodies in Nigeria are the loudest and most known as Somebodies usually are but they are few, so few that it is not surprising that at every event I go to from art exhibition to book launch to business dinner, it is the same crowd I see over and over and over again. People say Lagos is small. With 18 million people how can Lagos be small??? It is small because our circles of Somebodies and Somebodies' children make up less than 1% of Lagos.<br />
<br />
There are Bodies in Nigeria this is true but they are few and far between, perhaps the teller at the bank, the No-level* worker at a Brewery company. Perhaps these Bodies make up 25% of the population of Lagos. I truly believe 25% is high. It's probably more like 17%.<br />
<br />
Then there are Nobodies. From your random shop girls, despite having a job they are still nobodies, to the beggar on the street who sleeps under the bridge at night, Lagos is filled with Nobodies. Every where you look, you glance past Nobodies until your eyes hit the Somebody you were looking for. Your waiter in a restaurant is a Nobody. I never thought about waiters till one night I was leaving Lagoon restaurant pretty late. My date and I practically helped them sweep the floor. On our way out I noticed men putting out mats on the stairs and outside the gate. One of them was the man who served us. I immediately stopped and asked him why he was preparing to sleep outside the restaurant he works at. His first response was that a lot of the waiters sleep there overnight as it is late and they didn't want to travel home late. See most of them live in the less desirable parts of Lagos, deep in the crevices of Ajah, areas with names like Ajangbadi and Okokomaiko. If you live in Ikorodu that's a two hour public transport journey that no sane person will attempt to undertake at 2am. The buses themselves, not the drivers, would mock you. Laughing loudly through their exhaust pipes held on with wires and the gaping hole in their windshields. Because I clearly have a death wish, I generously offered to give our waiter a ride home as I did not want him to sleep on the floor only to hear "Me I don't sleep here because my house is far o. I no even get house sef. I stay here and baff in the bathroom then I go work." You may wonder why he is homeless when he has a job? Turns out his salary is 15K a month. We had just spent about 25K on food and drinks for one night and the guy serving us our 2500 cocktails makes 15K a month. That guy in Nigeria is a nobody. He is part of the Nobodies that make up 75% of the population of Lagos that I constantly overlook while my eyes search for the Somebody in the room.<br />
<br />
See in North America and Europe and other "westernized" countries, you can simply be a Body and exist from day 1 till day 0 of your life. You will die and make the paper, page 12 below the fold. These are choices that you have because there are systems set up to help you be a body, the welfare estate, workplace equity laws and the like. Most people In North are simply Bodies. When Afam walks into a restaurant in London he is not a Nobody, he is a Body.<br />
<br />
In Nigerian you truly are either a Somebody or a Nobody, because Bodies are few and far between. And this is what needs to change. We need more Bodies and less Nobodies.<!--1-->Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-54836953135495160502013-02-04T06:44:00.000-08:002013-02-04T06:44:05.514-08:00Being an entrepreneur as witnessed by Imoteda...I LOVE WORKING FOR MYSELF!!! It offers me a freedom that I will not give up for the world!<br />
<br />
For example, it is 2:58pm on a Monday and I am laying in bed. I haven't showered today and I have a very, very pleasant buzz running through my body that has been created by three rum and juice* cocktails**<br />
<br />
If I had a regular 9-5 I would be in the office right now mentally practicing stabbing my boss. But I am not. I am in bed, kinda sorta maybe a little tipsy***<br />
<br />
Anyways so I got to thinking, being an entrepreneur is great! Then I realized the only reason I can do this on a Monday morning is because I am an entrepreneur with no work to do. My last student ended her studies on friday. And she did so amazing on her final burn project. I shall share it with you right now. Isn't it a beaut? For those of you who don't realize it is a burn.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpvuRbZpKtohIMgQ9hjdvGSlQNJo00daM32vx04PIU9hyVafln8Qo94oVPR_BD_NZtR2CVyUMsO-NMahVysr4fylN9VBV1_1oaxgOEF2uVJsjAzlje8YhMKRJ7w2t8Ptt3ayXshlE-tJ3/s1600/IMG_9818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpvuRbZpKtohIMgQ9hjdvGSlQNJo00daM32vx04PIU9hyVafln8Qo94oVPR_BD_NZtR2CVyUMsO-NMahVysr4fylN9VBV1_1oaxgOEF2uVJsjAzlje8YhMKRJ7w2t8Ptt3ayXshlE-tJ3/s320/IMG_9818.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div>
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<br />
But yes back to my point, with no students to train, my next major gig starting all the way in April and no weddings or anything of the sort booked, I am quite jobless and quite broke. Being an entrepreneur isn't looking too great at the moment.<br />
<br />
Not to worry though, I am still church under secretary, president of the church youth association, an usher**** and a single mother to a five year old daughter. In about 25 minutes my shift as baby momma will start and I will have to walk around pretending I am not drunker than Jack Sparrow after being dumped by the cute lady who's name I always forget.<br />
<br />
Anyways I'm laying here thinking:<br />
<br />
"Here I lay, the consummate entrepreneur. I own my own business, I report to no one but myself. I work when I please and sleep when I choose. I am AWESOME SAUCE! This is the life I choose and no one will take it from me!"<br />
<br />
Then the stupid thought "Crap I need 100K for my new stations and 150K for my new tires and I'm laying here drunk. Ome ale ooshi!" comes in and ruins my highs.<br />
<br />
This I realize is the life of the entrepreneur.<br />
<br />
There are so many ups and downs in working for yourself. You go through periods of absolutely brokeness (like Im going through now) and periods where money flows in (mid last year was awesome for that). Around the times of brokeness you're tempted to give up, settle for a regular paycheck and stuff your dreams into the back of your closet with your camouflage flight suits and weird kitten heels that you thought were oh so cute ten years ago. And you forget that your dream means something<br />
<br />
But then things pick up and everything if great. You're walking on sunshine and your bills are paid plus you have a little extra for shoes. Yes my shoe obsession is still alive. Everything is great. Then the brokeness sets in because if you're like me you choose to expand prematurely. And open a makeup studio you can barely afford.<br />
<br />
This also is part of being an entrepreneur. Looking forward and ignoring small obstacles like money. Simply seeing your dream and the road you need to work down to get to that dream world. Ignoring the many road blocks and simple things like common sense because you are so sure that you are special and out of the many failures in life, you will be the one to succeed because you are The Chosen One.<br />
<br />
Well I, Imoteda, am the chosen one. And I shall succeed. Step One- Open makeup studio. Step 2- RULE THE WORLD!! yes there are only two steps in my business plan. I feel no ways about this because for all that people tell me that I need to have a backup plan and backups to my backups I know that I have only one plan and that is all I need. I will succeed and I will build an amazing school that teaches advanced special effects and is internationally recognized. I will do it because:<br />
<br />
a) I'm good at what I do. Great even<br />
b) Failure is not an option.<br />
<br />
I have faith in me and I am surrounded by people who have faith in me. And even if I could deal with disappointing myself and them, disappointing my daughter is not an option.<br />
<br />
Anyways, if you're in Ikota visit me in my studio, where I shall be sculpting wounds and painting faces. Shop D298, Road 1.<br />
<br />
If you have a passion, go for it. Safety is over rated.<br />
<br />
~*Strawberry kisses & caviar dreams*~<br />
Imoteda<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
* I spelt Juice as Joyce before I went back to proofread. I shudder to think of the many errors I will miss before this is over.<br />
<br />
** I just had to spell "through" three times to get it right. Started with throw & threw till I hit through. Isn't life grand?<br />
<br />
*** VERY tipsy. I can not lie<br />
<br />
**** Yes the church trusts me with all these roles. Partly because my mother is a reverend but mostly because my powers of ass-kissing cannot be rivaled<br />
<br />Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-82238290392150955572013-01-31T03:27:00.004-08:002013-01-31T03:27:13.111-08:00Another rant- Whether YOU date within your race or outside it, YOU will still be an undesirable partner<br />
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*wrote this on Facebook a while ago. But something just happened that reminded me so I figured I'd post here too*</div>
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Time for a rant. You know what's annoying? Hearing people make daft comments like a nigerian boy saying "I don't date Nigerian girls" or a black man saying" I only date non black chicks" or a black woman saying she doesn't date black men. You are all idiots. Just saying. I will happily date anyone from pretty much any race but I think to deliberately set out to NOT date people who are like you or who are from where you are from is the lowest form of self loathing there is. Maybe you should raise your standards and stop dating irresponsible people instead of blaming race, tribe or creed for your bad decisions. </div>
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Seriously this irritates the life out of me. What can you possibly be so ashamed of that you're ready to denounce your people to any Tom, Dick and Jane who walks by.</div>
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You sir. Yes you! The Nigerian man who won't date Nigerian women. Explain your reasoning! Have you dated EVERY SINGLE Nigerian woman and found that they are all idiots? Gold diggers perhaps? Or did they just give collectively bad head? Oh they have too much drama??? Just a little bit of advice. Stop cheating on your girlfriends. Think back. What was the last relationship you had where you didn't creep? You know why Nigerian women give you drama? Coz your penis seems to believe that life is a never ending game of golf with an infinite number of holes. FOUR!!! Wait that's four women this week? All this while your girlfriend is at work. Wow! Here's your prize! Don't open it till you get home though. If it's syphilis I don't want to be anywhere near here.</div>
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Hey lady. Dark skin chick who only dates white men. News flash! White men cheat too! Ashton Kutcher? Jude Law? Ringing any bells in that empty head of yours??? Oh brothers ain't shit??? No hun the brothers you seek out "ain't shit". Why? I don't know love. Maybe something is broken inside you. MAYBE you didn't get hugged enough by your mummy as a child. Or maybe it's because all the men you date seem to think that it's normal to wear their jeans around their knees. Or perhaps you're looking for love inside of Seven or some other club that has a "G-unit, sean jean and air jordans only" dress code. How many educated brothers have you dated? Don't worry I'll wait for the crickets to quiet down. You my dear "sister" are an idiot. (ps. you know majority of serial killers are white right? #justsaying)</div>
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Okay I just threw in that last bit as a joke. Though Criminal Minds says its true and I believe in Shemar Moore and Matthew Gray Gubler!!!</div>
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Sigh. I had to get off my chest. This whole rant actually started because one of my non-black girlfriends just said she's only going to date Latino men from now on.</div>
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So I'm thinking, "huh?!" Did CNN just run a special about the world wide pact that all Latino men just made to be great boyfriends, fathers and husbands? IS this something I should be jumping on???? Coz if all Latino men have sworn to be wonderful I want IN ON THAT!!!!</div>
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Or perhaps some scientist has found a gene in Latino men that actually makes them better than all other men from other races. </div>
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I just think it's stupid to decide not to date people from a particular race or tribe because you've had bad experiences with an individual from that race/tribe. And I'm pretty sure these bad experiences did not just happen while you stood passively watching. You played a part in those relationships too you know. So fix yourself instead of switching to another race. Now you're gonna have all the girls from Guyana swearing off Nigerian men because you've gone and dogged them out. And white boys are gonna be convinced that all black girls are crazy because you've gone and taken your drama over to the other side. </div>
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Abeg no spoil my market for America before I even enter plane reach there o!!!</div>
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I know you've heard it time and time again. The one thing all your relationships have in common in Y-O-U. That's what needs to be fixed.</div>
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I am now getting off my sopabox and backing away slowly.</div>
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Strawberry Kisses and Caviar Dreams</div>
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Imoteda</div>
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xoxo</div>
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(If you feel like there are somethings in this note that are directly aimed at you, you're probably right ☺)</div>
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Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-87282163611353509972013-01-27T15:17:00.004-08:002013-01-27T15:27:19.256-08:00I can do bad all by myself... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;">Transformation to a Lagos Girl progress Bar</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> _</span>----------------------------------------------</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">-----</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">------- </span><br />
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Man. This year is bringing about this change way too quickly. Anyways yet another jump. I drove myself all the way from VGC TO FESTAC!!! Lemme repeat that.<br />
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I DROVE MYSELF ALL THE WAY FROM VGC TO FESTAC. AND BACK. AND DID NOT GET LOST ONCE. Oh yea. I know Lagos now. And today I drove to Ebute Metta and back. And I fully understand why mainland people hate islanders. We have it good. Man those tiny ass Ebute Metta roads make me wanna shoot a duck<br />
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It occurs to me that I should have been keeping track of my progress since I moved back last year. Oh wells. Kinda late for that.<br />
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So i promised my Facebook people that I would have no more depressing posts for a while. But I'm in a bad mood. What to do, what to do???<br />
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Ramble...<br />
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Oh check out this blog. <a href="http://www.theramblingsofamadman-afam.blogspot.com/">www.theramblingsofamadman-afam.blogspot.com</a> Dude is hilarious. read the entire blog in like four days. Gotta love someone who speaks good english (not that I would know about that.)<br />
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Aways back to my ramble...<br />
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I'm in a bad mood because of some bloody douche baby and I'd love to pour out all my bitterness and anger but I can't coz I have no reason to be mad. I opened my very own two eyes and walked into the world's daftest situation. SMH<br />
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There are some dumb ass bullfrogs doing some kinda tribal mating call outside my window. Imma kill em.<br />
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Okay i'm really not in the mood to ramble either so I'll just put up makeup pictures...<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-h-36Z8zB5RAvpAdk_UE3Vjjpkk3eYTN1yocqOnRS0bWseis50-p7iTNIwxs7noj2x-rBSztZmT4z9pmOKQ7IdDingRid_wbL6rYJGb_tFoVO9VxdrNLR7_VvHsfWNGsRRXPN5cHPfBsT/s1600/431x560xSteven-Chee-for-Shop-Til-You-Drop-2.jpg.pagespeed.ic.sYEe4RPpiw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-h-36Z8zB5RAvpAdk_UE3Vjjpkk3eYTN1yocqOnRS0bWseis50-p7iTNIwxs7noj2x-rBSztZmT4z9pmOKQ7IdDingRid_wbL6rYJGb_tFoVO9VxdrNLR7_VvHsfWNGsRRXPN5cHPfBsT/s320/431x560xSteven-Chee-for-Shop-Til-You-Drop-2.jpg.pagespeed.ic.sYEe4RPpiw.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I absolutely love the clean simplicity of this. And the braid is young & elegant at once</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQVjJMQ94fEzcMzh-DOnaE5ivALeCbvic85rdRsku623Xbbjv25-0v7-iwHfu1f0t6uOhVN0r2y-HVwUxYTuuxS09myspM7oszVU2Kp7z-ZFH-6He28bVKl28s1glk9f9wRrq18hR8iU_/s1600/455x607xMaybelline-Calendar-2013-9-Erin-Wasson-Streets-of-NY.jpg.pagespeed.ic.X6zsmcEVrT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCQVjJMQ94fEzcMzh-DOnaE5ivALeCbvic85rdRsku623Xbbjv25-0v7-iwHfu1f0t6uOhVN0r2y-HVwUxYTuuxS09myspM7oszVU2Kp7z-ZFH-6He28bVKl28s1glk9f9wRrq18hR8iU_/s320/455x607xMaybelline-Calendar-2013-9-Erin-Wasson-Streets-of-NY.jpg.pagespeed.ic.X6zsmcEVrT.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the eyebrows but I've always loved bold brows</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZsxM7FBe0d9bTbQZiEH6GNBcuIt5mmjqXzzAW-1NyO8OqHtuabld3GZXTWpfaNuH7fBDCyrW3kwRIHUuAJZWM5jftGkt6-W8Bzu2jMKWffPKroHONMzs9bjktjOs95xbrsulUW64s5I6/s1600/455x608xMaybelline-Calendar-2013-7-Julia-Stegner-Graffiti.jpg.pagespeed.ic.Mi9GlrNruL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZsxM7FBe0d9bTbQZiEH6GNBcuIt5mmjqXzzAW-1NyO8OqHtuabld3GZXTWpfaNuH7fBDCyrW3kwRIHUuAJZWM5jftGkt6-W8Bzu2jMKWffPKroHONMzs9bjktjOs95xbrsulUW64s5I6/s320/455x608xMaybelline-Calendar-2013-7-Julia-Stegner-Graffiti.jpg.pagespeed.ic.Mi9GlrNruL.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is awesome body painting </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqdS9dOu0prR8YqEBgfKu_NhIYEW7NfC0Aoax9QWRPjCZa_BVB8sWaLAIB5CrFLK8WM9s2yCMucUHs3vuxI1o9xomdBTc73Ft65ai9tzaZTXGgQ5Qi7yA00raltikhjOyDUuar78eOQxX/s1600/485x600xjacques-dequeker-beauty.jpg.pagespeed.ic.AHnhlx4Rgu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqdS9dOu0prR8YqEBgfKu_NhIYEW7NfC0Aoax9QWRPjCZa_BVB8sWaLAIB5CrFLK8WM9s2yCMucUHs3vuxI1o9xomdBTc73Ft65ai9tzaZTXGgQ5Qi7yA00raltikhjOyDUuar78eOQxX/s320/485x600xjacques-dequeker-beauty.jpg.pagespeed.ic.AHnhlx4Rgu.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I actually love the hair more than I love the look.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfEVFlDVEUku1PKH4VtVx0yjSiPigYR1-wnpEUzVl_4vGFGHFaiIH-k1u8vQeF6zwVnflLJwbzdGe3d4joK0O4YPJyisZNHOHufLYexEqw65uIuxDbbsFs-U137S5b3vv4ysxZkAyQXbY/s1600/455x640xMaybelline-Calendar-2013-3-Erin-Wasson-Times-Square.jpg.pagespeed.ic.oSn-N4h8v6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgfEVFlDVEUku1PKH4VtVx0yjSiPigYR1-wnpEUzVl_4vGFGHFaiIH-k1u8vQeF6zwVnflLJwbzdGe3d4joK0O4YPJyisZNHOHufLYexEqw65uIuxDbbsFs-U137S5b3vv4ysxZkAyQXbY/s320/455x640xMaybelline-Calendar-2013-3-Erin-Wasson-Times-Square.jpg.pagespeed.ic.oSn-N4h8v6.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The female body is so gorgeous. Check out them curves</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7TbSbfE1hADXs1W9jbaMMq3MoxdEkz9FeGNxAkYtrs1aS31ifUX5zUet2XJoFYt60jmCtuljs_cXqD-G7hdKPYpU6L2_-8stiBtvQM8VcGuDmE3jd7mxZH7YtUbj9WLPuy1xBwscqwGW/s1600/490x630xMaryna-Linchuk-by-Lacey-for-Vogue-Japan-March-2013-7.jpg.pagespeed.ic.uNobD0a1Bw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7TbSbfE1hADXs1W9jbaMMq3MoxdEkz9FeGNxAkYtrs1aS31ifUX5zUet2XJoFYt60jmCtuljs_cXqD-G7hdKPYpU6L2_-8stiBtvQM8VcGuDmE3jd7mxZH7YtUbj9WLPuy1xBwscqwGW/s320/490x630xMaryna-Linchuk-by-Lacey-for-Vogue-Japan-March-2013-7.jpg.pagespeed.ic.uNobD0a1Bw.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I've decided that this is what Im doing for my next self funded shoot.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> Photos thanks to <a href="http://www.eyeshadowlipstick.com/">http://www.eyeshadowlipstick.com/</a></span><br />
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I don't know why people think they need to come into my life and help me mess it up more. Or tell me things like take responsibility for your actions. Fool I know exactly what to do to mess up my life...</div>
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I can do bad all by myself!</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2590648/" style="color: #136cb2;">Jennifer</a></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">: Why are you so nice to us?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0735226/" style="color: #136cb2;">Sandino</a></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">: I don't understand that question.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2590648/" style="color: #136cb2;">Jennifer</a></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">: You nice, why?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0735226/" style="color: #136cb2;">Sandino</a></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">: Why not? You shold expect people to be nice to you. You shouldn't expect people to be mean.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2590648/" style="color: #136cb2;">Jennifer</a></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">: Not in this world.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"> </span></div>
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I'm completely with Jennifer on this. I keep telling myself that people can be nice and good and what not but the fact is most of the time people are just mean and fucked and selfish.</div>
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Till next time</div>
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*Strawberry Kisses & Caviar dreams*</div>
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Imoteda</div>
Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-69277278399727477802013-01-24T14:00:00.000-08:002013-01-24T14:00:10.813-08:00Industry Night as a nearly completed Lagos Girl(my head hurts. Punctuation will be minimal and I do not intend to proofread> Enjoy)<br />
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So in my last post I mentioned that I was transitioning into a Lagos Girl right? I think if I had a progress bar, two days ago it would have looked like this:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Well as of last night it looked more like this:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: black;"> _----------------------------------</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">------------------------ </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">What caused this sudden increase in my metamorphosis you may well ask. What unholy jackpot did I win to do what originallky took me 11 months to do in 1 day?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Ladies and gentlemen, here is your answer.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I, Imoteda, wore... FALSE LASHES. And being the dive right in kinda gal that I am, I didn't go for some soft natural lashes. These lashes were about An inch long (no exaggeration) and thicker than my waist (did I just insult myself?) They would not have looked out of place on a drag queen in Vegas. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">And I realized something. There is a reason women do the things they do, especially Lagos women. We the enlightened, with our natural dos and our unpainted faces and toms, sit in judgement of Lagos girls and turn up our noses at their tight bandage dresses and sky high fake louboutin heels but they have the last laugh. HA HA!!! Because it works dammit!! And this is what I discovered last night. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">You may fault the road but the results cannot be denied. I experienced something last night that to be completely honest I had forgotten ever existed. And it was pretty awesome. (The feminist in me is actually physically attacking me, with every word my headache gets worse and my hands feel the need to type WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE DOESNT MATTER but I will continue to fight her for your entertainment)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">I went out for industry night yesterday and it was AH-MAE-ZING. I had an awesome time. Went to the place first for drinks. Downed Hennessy and Cranberry on a completely empty stomach ( I did not eat all day). This is probably why my night was so great. Then went off to GET Arena where Industry Nite was hosting Vector and GidiCulture. My company did the makeup for the show so I went out to support and it was great. Check out the trailer here. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://gidiculture.blogspot.com/">http://gidiculture.blogspot.com/</a></span><br />
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For one thing it is truly weird for me to have people look at me simply because they consider me beautiful. It's even stranger when I'm with 3 other women of varying hotness (the least attractive was at least a 7.5). Thanks to my lashes, my twenty inch weave with bangs and my seven thousand naira Woolworths dress (yes I shop at Woolworths and love it!) I was described as beautiful countless times. It was truly odd. I felt uncomfortable after the first then I got over it and enjoyed it. Free drinks were thrown my way, random men were pushed out of my way in a certain bouncer's eagerness to ensure that his "beautiful goddess" made it in to the venue while one of the organizers from inside screamed "Let that beautiful angel in right now!" At this point I turned literally around because I was sure he wasn't talking about me. He was and we are going to dinner soonish (which I dread because now I have to win him over with my personality. le sigh). Anyways it was weird and bizarre and great and kinda creepy. Men need to learn that just because a woman looks good doesn't mean she wants you to drape your smelly self over her. back up homie. Anyways, I am done humble bragging not so humbly. I quite enjoyed some of the attention and free drinks and food. However I decided that being beautiful on a regular basis requires way too much work and effort and I am a lazy bagger so I shall return to being regular-old-but-always-fabulous-regardless Imoteda.<br />
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I got quite a few contacts too. One of them I am quite excited about. Convo went like this<br />
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<i>Him: What do you do?</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Moteda: I'm a makeup artist. Bridal, beauty, special effects for film and television you know</i><br />
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<i>Him: looks me up and down critically then barks "How tall are you?"</i><br />
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<i>Moteda: *Pauses* Errr five foot six inches. Why?</i><br />
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<i>Him: Are you camera shy?</i><br />
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<i>Moteda: Not at all</i><br />
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<i>Him: *gives me business card* Make sure you call me, it's important.</i><br />
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<i>Me: *gives him business card* I definitely will</i><br />
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and I did today. He said it was important. We're meeting soon. Let's hope it's something good :D<br />
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The highlight of my evening was that I was sitting next to the one, the only, the splendiferously magnificent, MR. INCREDIBLE!!!<br />
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On the real though M.I has got to be the most chill nigerian celebrity out there. He was awesome and I was impressed by the fact that he didn't punch me in the face. I started by reminding him that in 2008 we had hired him to perform at one of our shows even though I didn't personally speak to him at the show. He took this with grace and said awesome.<br />
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Then I typed on my blackberry "Would it be groupie behavior to ask to take a picture with you?" He laughed and said of course not so I obviously immediately abused the opportunity and took several pictures in increasing degrees of bizarre. All this he also took in stride.<br />
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Later on after watching about four people approach him and basically manhandle him into taking pictures without so much as a "by your leave" I once again engaged him in conversation (in a crowded club it's more like a yelling match)<br />
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<i>Moteda: Does all of this annoy?</i><br />
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<i>MI: Not really. It's cool that they're fans. I just don't like it when they do it that way. I'd like to at least get the chance to say yes first or prepare.</i><br />
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<i>Moteda: Makes sense.</i><br />
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<i>MI: Yea but it's all good. it comes with the territory and I'm getting used to it</i><br />
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<i>Moteda: Hey at least it means you're still relevant</i><br />
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<i>MI: *Laughs* Exactly!</i><br />
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<i>Moteda: You know, you're a pretty chill dude</i><br />
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<i>MI: you are too </i><br />
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<i>Moteda: *in my mind* WAAAAAIIIIIIT. DID MI JUST SAY I AM A PRETTY CHILL DUDE TOO???</i><br />
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Then 20 minutes later after debating the wisdom of this with my cousin and male bff over bbm I typed this and handed it to him<br />
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<b><i>Sorry I keep typing but screaming at you seems rather rude no?</i></b><br />
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<i><b>So I know it's somewhat gauche but I'd still like to give you a couple of business cards.It's cool if you never use them or even trash them but I gotta try right? I'm a makeup artist and I do awesome special effects. Canadian trained and all. Yea I'm kinda like a big deal. Not that a lot of people know it yet. LOL</b></i><br />
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Yes those are the exact words I typed. He read it, laughed and then proceeded to give him all his contacts details, phone number, email AND bb pin. Told me he admired the work ethic and liked people who liked to work. Also said he had some stuff I might be interested in and to contact him later. I was BLOWN AWAY. It was awesome. (yes I'm a complete MI grouped in case you don't know. Once "Money" came out my heart and soul were his)<br />
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So yea that was the absolute highlight of my day. Heck of January so far. MI was gracious, well mannered, sober (a welcome change from the rest of the dudes) and he added me to bb earlier tonight.<br />
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Sigh<br />
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Last night. Last night was good. Last night was really good.<br />
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And now you're all caught up. And I'm going to go catch up on my sleep.<br />
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Night y'all<br />
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*Strawberry kisses & caviar dreams*<br />
xoxo<br />
ImotedaImotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-6461964319489048802013-01-22T16:24:00.002-08:002013-01-22T16:24:43.151-08:00I'm such an effing lady (well I soon will be) I am slowly transitioning into a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">LAGOS GIRL. </span>The best example of this is that I currently have on a 20 inch weave. In a country where the average temperature is about 33 degrees (according to Xena, my trusty little Matrix) this is simply unacceptable. But there you have it. I don't have fake lashes yet nor do I dress up in my shortest and tightest bandage dress to go watch a movie at The Palms ( the fact that I do not call it Shoprite is also a sign that my transition is not yet complete) but I am well on my way. The most upsetting thing is I cannot find it within myself to be upset by this.<br />
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I suppose this is what one calls, adapting to ones environment or going native. I, Imoteda, am slowly going native. And I am okay with this. I think about marriage on average once a day. I'm still not sure if I actually want to be married or whether the deluge of wedding invitations that drown me every Saturday are finally causing me to crack. But regardless I find myself thinking quite often about my future nuptials, to be honest I do somewhat look forward to unlimited* protection free sexytime**<br />
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Speaking on nuptials, I had cause on saturday to be at dinner with my mentor (a darling lady with an ever flowing river of sarcasm), a young(ish) couple she invited, my sister, my cousin and her oldest son (my future husband***. He may not have accepted this but I have and in doing so I have also doomed any future offspring**** to a life of vertical challenges*****). DInner conversation was pretty spirited once everyone got comfortable (by which I mean I had inhaled a couple of glasses of wine). The young man who was the male counterpart in the couple was quite the obnoxious one so I shall call him.... Obnoxious. Quite inspired, yes thank you. I won't bore you with the details so here are bullet points culled from the discussion:<br />
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HIM<br />
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<ul>
<li>Women do not listen</li>
<li>When a man makes a mistake in a relationship or marriage it's simply an oversight</li>
<li>When a woman makes a mistake, it's a mistake, caused by not listening</li>
<li>Women who wear revealing clothing, an excess of jewelry, have tattoos or piercings, talk a lot, smile too much, breathe heavily and do not kneel at the feet of men are whores. </li>
<li>Men know everything and can fix all problems giving enough time and an understanding, silent wife.</li>
<li>Women do not listen and this is the only reason why marriages fail</li>
<li>Women should not have expectations in a relationship but trust that the man knows best.</li>
</ul>
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ME</div>
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<ul>
<li>This guy is a complete buffoon. (A word I only ever hear Nigerians use but was most apt in this situation)</li>
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I actually didn't say that but I thought it. Several times. But instead of doing what Imoteda would usually do and blurt this out with a few f-words thrown in, I laughed in my flimsy blouse with a weird tie up bow thingy in the front (still not sure how I purchased such a girly item) and then proceeded to argue with him all through dinner. Without once raising my voice. </div>
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I realized then that I am officially becoming a Lady.</div>
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I have Lagos to thank for this.</div>
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There you have it.</div>
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Oh and Happy NEW YEAR PEOPLE</div>
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Strawberry kisses & caviar dreams (haven't typed that in ages!)</div>
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Imoteda</div>
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*- provided my tubes have been tied or preferably the entire damn womb removed so I do not have to worry about pregnancies, periods that render my unserviceable for two days out of the month and cramps.</div>
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**- assuming I marry the ONE faithful man in Lagos. I know he exists. Failing this I shall be having condomful sex. Aids is not sexy.</div>
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***- This marriage shall take place so I am the first to wed in our new church building. Also so I can get the 500K that the Methodist church gives to members who wed each other. His mother has approved the union and apologized for what she claims is a difficult man. I've spoken barely 20 words to him so I wouldn't know but I can deal with anything. I once dated He-who-must-not-be-named after all.</div>
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****- If the womb is still in there.</div>
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*****- Said future husband might just be 5'5. I feel like that is optimistic though. But he is awkwardly cute. Seeing as I barely clear 5'6 (how I came from a family of 6 footers I do not know) any future progeny of ours will be lucky to hit 5 feet.</div>
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Notice how I take his acceptance of our marriage for granted. I, Imoteda, am one fabulous young lady and as such I assume all men want the sexiness that is my plus sized glory. </div>
Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-49880889760529870212012-11-04T06:44:00.001-08:002012-11-04T06:44:19.498-08:00On Teaching Women How to NOT be Raped<br />
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Let me preface this by saying I hope to be writing a lot more of little (or not so little) notes like this. I have an endless loop of thoughts going in my head and they tend to be on the same issues. Clearly talking to myself is not a good sign and I doubt I'm gonna get any more clarification from myself than I already have, so I hope by writing these down and encouraging people to comment and discuss I can learn and teach. And if not at least I've got it out there. I also don't edit much so I'm sorry in advance for spelling errors, punctuation errors and the like.</div>
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Alright now that's been said. Be prepared, this is gonna be a bit long.</div>
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A while ago I got into a heated discussion on a friend's post which basically stated that while rape in any form or manner in completely unacceptable, women need to take responsibility for not putting themselves in certain situations. More specifically focused on the manner in which they dress. Not I was with her for the most part, I think women should be aware that there are horrible people among us who think nothing of raping a woman and will use any flimsy excuse as defence. I believe that we should do all we can to remove that excuse whether it be by dressing appropriately or avoiding certain areas after certain times. Please note that I said remove the excuse. I don't think there is ever a situation where a woman can be blamed for getting raped. Once you've put rape in it then clearly she was violated and nothing she could have said, done nor neglected to do could have meant she was asking for it. But I still think there are steps that women can take to protect themselves. Simply put I believe to some extent that we can teach women how to NOT be raped. I didn't really see it that way but regardless of how I put it that is what I'm saying. That if a woman does this, that and the other they can minimize or eliminate their chances of being raped. Or at least being raped in a certain situation.</div>
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Now when I type that out like that the extreme stupidity of the sentence hits me. How the heck can I justify telling a women that she can LEARN HOW NOT TO BE RAPED. The whole premise is flawed. It's not like she's learning how to sew. She's trying to learn how to stop some sick bastard from attacking her. How exactly does one learn that? </div>
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Since the discussion on my friend's post I've actually been thinking about this a lot and of course my thoughts turn to my own situation.</div>
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I've been pretty open most of my adult life about the fact that I was raped. I was raped at 17. By a friend of a friend of a friend of mine. At knife point. In a deserted area off one of the many highway roads surrounding Toronto. I always fancy that it's somewhere near Scarborough coz I feel like I recognize a particular area but the fact is that I have no way of knowing where exactly it happened. It was my first year in Canada and I didn't live in Toronto, I lived in Belleville. I was just in Toronto for a holiday with girlfriends so I really don't couldn't know the area well enough to recognize it years later. Also doesn't help that I avoided Toronto like the plague for months after the event.</div>
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I never reported my rape. I actually didn't tell anyone about it for almost a year after it happened and then I told a very nice woman on a hotline that I really wish I remembered the name of. I was on a bus and saw the number and figured I might as well call. And I'm glad I did. It was the first time I got to just talk about it and I think that conversation was my first step to learning how to be open about what happened and to stop feeling like it was my fault I got raped.</div>
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Like I said I never reported it. There were a million and twelve reasons for this. The first and most important to me at that time was the fact that I was NOT where I had told my school I would be. We had a midterm holiday and I had told my house mother that myself and my friends would be going to Toronto to stay with my aunt and her family. What we actually did was get our twenty year old friend to rent a room downtown and proceed to party the weekend away. I knew that if I called the cops I would have to explain how my 17 year old self managed to get a hotel room and why exactly I was drinking.</div>
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Which leads us to reason number 2. I had been drinking and I had also tried weed for the first time ever in my life. The legal age for drinking in Canada is 19 and weed is illegal. SO I would have had to explain that I was drunk and high when I got raped. And that I had willingly separated from my friends to go off with this individual I barely knew. </div>
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Reason Number 3. I had never met this guy before this night, but he was a friend of a guy my friend was "talking to". So when I got separated from my friends outside the hotel and he told me they had gone off to a house party and he would give me a ride there I didn't even consider saying no. I just hopped into the car excited to be going to a party. He was kind enough to bring me back to the hotel after he was done with me. Upon returning to the hotel I discovered that my friends had been in the room all along, they simply finished their smokes and went up while I was distracted by the pretty lights of Toronto. There was no house party.</div>
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Reason Number 4. On getting back to the hotel room and my friends seeing my messed up appearance they immediately started mocking me for getting it on with the dude, who's name was Dino. It struck me then and still bugs me now, that I was raped by a guy called Dino. Anyways, the assumption that my friends made immediately I walked in stuck with me. I probably didn't think it through then but subconsciously I must have thought "if my friends who know me think I was off having sex with him, what will strangers think?" This is a pretty major one for me coz at 17 I had had sex once about 2 years before and had refused to have sex again. Not even with my boyfriend of the previous summer who was (and sometimes I'm convinced he still is) the one major love of my life. Sex was not something I wanted to really have at that point and if these had really been good friends of mine that I confided in, they would have reached a different conclusion. Not blaming them for that, just pointing out that the people I chose to go off for a weekend with and get drunk and high with were people I didn't know that well and didn't know me that well.</div>
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Reason number 5. I locked myself in the bathroom when their mockery got too much to bear and called aforementioned ex. I had actually just returned from spending two nights with him on his campus. I'm not sure why I called him. I know I wanted to tell him what happened but somehow didn't manage to. It is important to note that I wasn't completely sober at this point. I will always recall telling him "I'm so fucked" repeatedly. Considering the nature of our relationship and my less than sober state he assumed I was being dramatic as per usual and handed me over to a friend of his that I had met that weekend. I hung up. Went to bed. Decided to put it behind me</div>
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A few months later I got into an argument with said ex online. The argument didn't make me do it. But my general state of unhappiness and frustration plus the fact that no one had noticed that I was different when I was fairly certain my every move was screaming "LOOK AT ME. HE RAPED ME" made me decided to down a bottle of tylenol. So I did, and then I sat on my bed and waited patiently to die. For about two minutes. I had no interest in dying and I think I knew it then. I just wanted a solution and suicide for some reason seemed like the best solution. After sitting for two minutes I decided I didn't want to die immobile so I got up and started cleaning. Cleaning turned to crying and I ran down to a friend's room. Like I said, I had no interest in dying. She called for the house mother and they got me off to the hospital. I had my stomach pumped. A billion questions asked and spent a long horrible week in the psych ward with bars on the window and a white guy who hated Caucasians but was infatuated with me and constantly stood as close as he could to me when we were in the dining room together. He had fascinating conversations with his cutlery and always offered me his meat. He was sweet in his own way. My roommate was a french girl who spoke no english, wouldn't shower and often had screaming fits that required her to be restrained. The nurses had no time or patience for a spoiled boarding school girl who clearly simply wanted a diversion from her overly pampered life. I had to spend 30 minutes every day with a Dr who looked bored to be there and asked me stupid questions like "Did you just break up with your boyfriend?" "Where are you going for vacation?" "Are you mad your parents sent you to boarding school?". Needless to say I didn't spend a lot of time talking. Just stared at him till my half hour was up and found my way back to my room.</div>
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Reason No 6. No one ever asked me "Were you raped?" It wasn't something I wanted to say out loud but had I been asked. I'm fairly certain the floodgates would have broken. No one asked. For the rest of the year my parents were heartbroken that a child of theirs would want to take her life and everyone in the school was so used to suicide attempts that when I got back, aside from the usual "Are you okay to write exams?" no one paid any attention. My father asked me about a year and a half later and then I told him what happened. He was heartbroken. And I was heartbroken at his heartbreak. But I was strong by this time so telling him didn't cause the pain I expected.</div>
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Now there is a reason for this long story I just told. If you notice my reasons 1-4 are the EXACT ways they teach women not to be raped. </div>
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1-Always make sure there are people aware of where you are at all times.</div>
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2-Do not go out and get excessively intoxicated or high</div>
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3-Never go off with a stranger</div>
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4-If you must drink or be in strange places make sure you're with good friends who will take care of you</div>
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I did all those things and for those reasons I thought I couldn't report my rape. Coz I had been stupid. Or at least I thought I had been. They weren't the best decisions I'd ever make but I would hesitate to call anyone who came to me with that same situation stupid. I was doing the things 17 year olds do to have fun when they don't have that many options and are out of their parents/guardians protective grips for a short while. </div>
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So when we tell women not to do certain things or not to dress certain ways, are we educating them or shaming them. I have heard countless of rape stories in my life. Mine is actually a bit of an exception. In the sense that maybe 1 out of 20 rapes happen that way. Probably even rarer but I'm going with the ones I have heard personally. Most rapes were by people who knew them, friends and family, in their own homes or places of work. For a stranger to carry you off and rape you, then return you home or to your hotel room. Well, it doesn't seem to happen that often.</div>
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So what are we really teaching women when we try to tell them how not to be raped? If we go by my situation it's more like teaching them how Not to Report their rape.</div>
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Now if I had not done 1-4, maybe my break would have ended differently. On paper it seems like I would never have been raped and my life would have followed a different trajectory.</div>
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Or maybe I would have been sitting alone in the hotel room sober and he would have broken in and raped me anyway. Or I could have gone to my uncle's house and been raped by one of his friends. I will simply never know.</div>
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What I do know is that when we teach women certain things we lure them into a false sense of security. If you do this that and the other you will not be raped. Well,... except if it's by an uncle, a brother, a father, a teacher, someone who breaks through the locks of your safely bolted homes or your boss. We can't teach women how not to be raped. The most we can do is minimize the chances of them being raped in certain situations. </div>
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That being said, I will still teach my daughter to not drink excessively, I will not let her dress provocatively at a young age and I will warn her about going of places she doesn't know well and surrounding herself by strangers. WHy? Because if I can minimize the chances of her being raped like I was I will. I will however also try to teach her that you can be raped by familiar faces. Rapists are not all tall gansta type dudes named Dino who carry knives in their cars. </div>
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And if she questions me, I will show her the scar on my back and tell her I love her too much to see her carry a physical scar in addition to the emotional scars I can't show her.</div>
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What do you guys think? </div>
Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-48857354603043822382012-09-19T02:54:00.001-07:002012-09-19T03:04:23.587-07:00Yes it hurts; Get Over it. Steps 1-5 :) So I'm laying in bed (well I was), cocooned in my duvet, trying to rub some warmth into my annoying frozen and super tight chest. It's been like that since last night. Laying in bed.. somewhere between sleep and hysteria... breathing but unable to get a proper deep breath. I'm just praying for that relief, really any kind of relief. And then it hits me... I've been here before. If this was an apartment then I'm a long term renter.<br />
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I'm so used to being broken hearted and miserable that it doesn't even feel new anymore. The slow drip of tears that refuse to fall steadily... Like you're too hurt to actually indulge in a proper cry. The locked door to keep the rest of the world out. It's too frigging familiar at this point. Am I doomed to be eternally broken hearted? Will I continue to date, love and fuck the devil's offspring???? Though I suppose that last bit is somewhat unfair to the devil. Even he wouldn't approve of some of my choices in men in recent years. Le sigh...<br />
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But then as I lay there trying to prevent myself from inhaling my tears it occurs to me that the last time I was in this situation was as recent as June... and while that is way too close for my peace of mind.. I got over it. Enough that i was able to open up again, to laugh again, to actually enjoy life and build great new memories not to mention have some awesome s... well you know what I mean. So obviously I move past the hurt and tears and misery of my last horrible break up. I'm an expert at moving on. I'm awesome at it! My mom has always told me I'm the most resilient of her kids. Resilience is my freaking super power. I'm RESILIENCE WOMAN! (okay sounded way more awesome in my head.. truly) So with no further ado, I give you my five steps to getting over the hurt... whether relationship, work, friendship, whatever hurts, you can get over it. I do it at least 3 times a year with minimal bitterness left over. Alright...<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #7f6000;">Step 1: WALLOW</span><br />
That's right. Wallow. Lay in bed and cry. Listen to maudlin music. Hug their clothes. Read old bb, facebook, text, whatsapp messages, letters, count the number of times they've ever called you. Pull up all the memories of the awesome things you used to do together and inform yourself that you will never have it that good again. Ignore the world and ask it to ignore you. Don't eat. Don't drink (well drink water we aren't asking you to die). Basically do all the love sick things people who are hurt and love sick do when they want to be miserable.<br />
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This is actually quite important to start getting over it. You can't avoid the hurt. Ignoring it is only asking for it to show up while you're walking through a crowded mall and spot a T-shirt you almost bought him or her for christmas and then you find yourself awkwardly crying and attempting to run to your car while random strangers inquire about who died. DO NOT LET YOUR HURT SNEAK UP ON YOU. DEAL WITH IT IN GOOD TIME.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #bf9000;">Step 2: RANT &RELEASE</span><br />
You need to talk about it. Period. You may not be the type of person to put your business all out there and I applaud you. I need to learn that. But the fact is you need to get it out of you. And not into thing air. To someone or something. So write a journal entry or call up a good buddy. You don't have to share the nitty gritty details but talk to them about your situation and what's going on with you. Not the judgemental friend though and def not the I-told-you-so friend, you need to shoot those two. Talk to someone who won't judge or contradict. Someone who will just let you rant. Call a hotline if you must. Write a blog. I haven't blogged in almost a year but this is my release. Of the feelings bubbling up. See doesn't have to be details of your situation but you need to release emotions somehow. Shoot me an email. I promise not to judge *ehugs*<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #f1c232;">Step 3: MUSIC. LIGHTS. ACTION.</span><br />
Even if you're not big on music (please who isn't?) get big on music for this period. But remember you're done wallowing for now. So no maudlin music. You may want to create a special playlist so not sad love song shows up while you're getting your hype on. I'm currently listening to the best of Beyonce's hits. Get me Bodied? Ladies this is your theme song to get over the hurt. You're not listening to get your self esteem up but you need to remove that aura of sadness floating around your head. So get out of bed and turn on all the lights you can. Open your windows and let the sun in or the stars. doesn't matter, You need the fresh air so let it in. Last. DANCE! Or exercise. Whatever gets you moving DO IT. Dancing releases endorphins and adrenaline which make you happy and provides a high. You need to lift your spirits so get that music bumping and DANCE dammit!!!<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffd966;">Step 4: ACHIEVE</span><br />
While your blood is rushing, your endorphins have been released and you're feeling hyper, this is a good time to achieve something! ANYTHING!! When I get into someone I tend to put off a lot of things to be with the person or think about them. So grab that to do list that you ignored to run off to the beach with them. Go hang out with a friend you've been postponing on. Scrub the bathroom (I'm about to do that once I'm done this). Write a proposal. Just do something that will make you feel accomplished. Remind yourself that you can actually do things without said individual. Or job.. or whatever. Use the hurt and anger if you must to propel you to achieve.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">Step 5: WASH, RINSE, REPEAT</span><br />
Hey breakups are hard. We all know that. They don't always end when we think they should or when we want to. And as great as it is to think you can get over it in a day, it doesn't always happen like that. There's nothing wrong with occasionally running back to Step 1 for a quick drive down memory lane, a little cry here, a snuffle there. Just remember not to stop too long and move on to Step 2. Do it as often as you feel like. Eventually you'll find yourself going back less and less and soon you'll be able to see that shirt in the mall and just go "Nice shirt!".<br />
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I hope this list helps... coz it helps me a lot. Even if it doesn't, it's part of my Step 2. So deal with it !!!<br />
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I miss my bloggers though... :(<br />
I think I should start blogging more often.<br />
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*Strawberry Kisses & Caviar Dreams*<br />
ImotedaImotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-88262586685310046992011-12-30T21:54:00.000-08:002011-12-30T22:32:27.966-08:00Bonus End of Year Post!!! Be appreciative. LOLAlright so it's officially the last day of 2011 and I'm spending my night cleaning my home coz I've decided to up and move back to Nigeria. I also decided this less than a month ago and I plan to move next week. Yea I'm impulsive like that. I'm pretty excited about this move though so...<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not doing any new year's resolutions. It's cliche, it's boring, all resolutions are predictable and rarely last past jan 29th (coincidentally my brother's birthday).</div><div><br /></div><div>But I have decided that in life I will STOP WAITING! I've been waiting for something to happen for such a long time; waited to be done school, waited to get a good job, waited to save enough money to move back home ... blah blah blah. Abeg jare I have waited enough. My new motto FORWARD EVER, STAGNANT NEVER!. (totally stole that from my Jos Man O War camp experience..lol)</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways... I will share some random things I learnt this year. They mostly concern myself and relationships with men and women.</div><div><br /></div><div>1) Sometimes what society tells you to want and what you want are completely different but you can't always tell. Didn't blog about my date with some american dude in September because I figured he may eventually read it but I went on this date and it had some good but mostly bad and it made me realize that at that point I didn't really want to be in any sort of relationship but I felt like I should be because looking for a husband and settling down is what is expected of a single mom. I didn't want that. I just wanted to be by myself for a little bit even though I didn't realize this then. And so psycho Imoteda entered the scene and I literally did all I could to drive him away. It worked. I'm not sad that it did but if I had realized why I had been doing what I was doing there would be one less man who thinks I'm crazy in the world. lol. But I guess it was just as well that I didn't realize it then. I'm not the nicest person when I'm completely uninterested in you. Just ask the producer of my failed radio show. lol</div><div><br /></div><div>2) Speaking of that I embarked on YET ANOTHER journey into celibacy. It's actually funny how that evolved. The producer asked me to "fuck this girl out of my mind." Yes he wanted me to have sex with him so he could forget about his ex. Told him I wasn't anyone's rebound and that didn't work so I told him that I had decided to avoid sex for six months. lol. Don't ask me why I didn't just say no o! Anyways after telling him that I decided that as much as I enjoy sex I really didn't have much interest in having it with just anybody and I figured if I was to meet someone and really try for a relationship (see previous realization for how this went) then I should probably take sex off the table. So I did. Luckily I hadn't done the horizontal tango for a minute before the decision so it was a little easier and I'm still going strong. At least for now,ask me how it's going when I'm in Nigeria surrounded by all those sexy dark chocolate men. </div><div><br /></div><div>3)Sex is great (did I say great?? Mind blowingly amazing I meant) but it really isn't all that. And it really isn't worth a lot of the complications that come with it. Not saying that for everyone but for myself. I'm pretty sure I used to think I could have un-emotional sex but I lied to myself. If I let you in my honey box I am a little bit in love with you and if I wasn't before then I definitely will be after. So yea no wham bamming for you sweetheart (yes I just looked down as I typed that).</div><div><br /></div><div>4) I would like a partner. I just don't want a relationship. Confusing? it is to me too. I know I definitely don't want a relationship but I want someone in my life. Best way to explain it is that I want my life to be a very cheesy romantic comedic. The type that stars Jennifer Aniston as the girl next door and Matthew Gray Gubler as her best friend/neighbour who's there for her all through her life supporting her and leaning on her for strength through thick and thin and then one day while they share a milkshake at McDonalds (or in my case at Chocolate Royale) they look into each other's eyes and realize that they've loved each other since "I just moved in across the street". I want to meet my future husband now and become great friends with him and in a year or two or three realize he's the one and live happily ever after. I didn't say it was realistic. It's just what I want.</div><div><br /></div><div>5) And this is the last and most important to me. I realized that life will happen whether or not I participate so I might as well participate. I'm living and jumping in feet first. I'm gonna socialize, I'm gonna shamelessly promote myself professionally and screw feeling embarrassed about walking up to a woman and saying "Hi I'm Imoteda, professional make up artist, here's my card. Check out the website and don't forget to call me first for all your beauty needs" or something like that. I want to live my life. Not just wait for it to start living itself. Yes I'm a mother but I'm young, semi-beautiful (LOL) and I have a pretty awesome personality even if I do say so myself. It's about time I re-entered the world and let it suffer me a little bit.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So tomorrow is Jan 1st, 2012. God Willing I will be alive to meet it. 2012 will be awesome because I plan to make it so. What about you hombres?</div><div><br /></div><div>*strawberry kisses and caviar dreams*</div><div>Imoteda</div><div><br /></div><div>~See you in the FUTURE~</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-38467948138555429602011-11-29T22:39:00.001-08:002011-11-29T22:53:16.981-08:00I cannot support gay clubs in Catholic Schools<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>1255</o:Words> <o:characters>7154</o:Characters> <o:company>Chams</o:Company> <o:lines>59</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>14</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>8785</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>I got an email from a friend asking to me to help her out with something. She wanted to protest the ban of Gay-Straight Alliance clubs in Ontario Catholic Schools and she wanted my help in organizing and motivating since she knows I generally am all for standing for Human Rights. With this in mind she was quite shocked when I told her that I support her in all she does but I did not want to be involved. Wanting to avoid an argument I simply said I really wasn’t interested in participating. Never tell that to a woman studying women’s studies who’s extremely passionate about everything from her breakfast choices to the politics in Countries she’s never heard about. I got a phone call ten minutes later and spent a good hour trying to explain my point of view to her.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And my point of view is simply this; I do not believe that Catholic Schools should have any LGBTS clubs because in the Bible, homosexuality is a sin. It is as simple as that. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now most people who know me really well know that I am a firm believer in Human Rights and the freedom of expression. I have friends, some close and some not so close, who are gay, lesbian, bisexual and straight. Before I wrote this I worried that I might offend some of my friends who might read. Then I found myself up at 1am and decided I might as well. Those who know me know me well enough to know that my intentions are good.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Lately I find myself thinking more and more that people are becoming extraordinarily narrow minded in their open-mindedness. Bear with me as I try and explain myself here. We believe so strongly in what we believe in that we cannot see why anyone else would not believe in the same. We are so determined not to be deprived of our rights as Human Beings that we begin to deprive others of their rights.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Returning to the issue of Gay clubs in Catholic schools.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">(side note: There are numerous Bible verses I could quote in this article but this is simply an expression of my personal feeling s so I don’t feel the need to produce a bibliography, references and footnotes. All those with questions please see my mother Reverend. Titi Aladekomo. She knows) </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><b>Ahem</b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I grew up in a Christian household. We went to Church every Sunday. Held Bible study and prayers almost every night my father was home and prayed before every meal. For all that I am not a religious person today, I do know my religion thanks to my mother. I believe though I may not be a believer, if this makes sense. So I know that Homosexuality in Christianity is considered a sin. A sin that was so great that two towns were burnt down because of it (well and a whole host of other sins but it was one of them). There is no wording it, no working around it, Homosexuality is a sin to Christians. Now to require that a school that is founded in Christianity allow a club within its premises that caters to member of the community who have chosen to live a sinful lifestyle is an insult to all practicing Christians. Now I’m sure someone will get up and point out that Anglican churches have appointed gay priests and that years have gone by and things should be changed but I do not find those valid points when talking about Christianity. Thou shalt not kill is still as valid a commandment as it was ten years, a hundred years and four thousand years ago. And while the topic of homosexuality did not make it into the Ten Commandments, as far as Christianity goes, it is as much a sin as it was four thousand years ago. Something does not stop becoming a sin simply because society embraces it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I do not as a Christian have to accept homosexuality as a way of life simply because the Government has legalized it and said it was okay. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Some people bring up the fact that Catholic Schools are publicly funded. When the “public” (hey I already said I wasn’t trying to sound smart) agreed to fund Catholic Schools they understood that they were agreeing to fund a school that was built upon a religion. You cannot ask for amendments to a belief system because you’re funding it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Some people say “Well what about the new testament? Jesus washed away old sins and started anew.” To this I respond, “Jesus cleansed the prostitute of her seven demons and gave her life to start anew. He did not build her a brothel and find her clientele.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">One of my more homophobic friends once said to me, “I truly have nothing against gay dudes. I just wish they wouldn’t be so Gay all the time!” As ridiculous as this statement sounds, I actually understand his point. For a straight man growing up in a culture that places extreme emphasis<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>on masculinity, it must have been uncomfortable for him moving Downtown Toronto and seeing men in heels, make up and short shorts. I love it, it makes him squirm, such is life. Not everyone can like everything. To date he hasn’t done anything that could be considered offensive to any member of the gay community. He just chooses to not spend too much time within it. That’s his choice.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But at what point does expressing oneself become an encroachment on the rights of others?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The sad shooting of Lawrence King, a student at the E.O. Green School California, also brings this question to mind. Lawrence was shot by a classmate Brandon who felt he was being harassed. I in no way whatsoever condone the shooting of another person regardless of your comfort or discomfort level but I found myself asking, “Couldn’t the school have prevented this?” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Lawrence was allowed to wear high heels, dresses and make up to school. The school code prevented students from wearing clothing that could be seen as distracting but the school’s assistant principal (who coincidentally was a lesbian) said that it was Lawrence’s right to express himself and as the policy was not against, heels, dresses or make up he was well within his rights to dress that way. I understand not wanting to discriminate against any gender but I do see how a boy dressed in dresses, heels and make up to school could be distracting to other 15 year old boys in the class. Lawrence would also make sexually suggestive comments to Brandon and a day or so before the shooting was apparently seen parading back and forth in front of him. When Brandon appeared visibly upset, the vice principal silently chastised him. Now let us pause here and flip the script.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Imagine Brandon was a girl and Lawrence a male in the school. Had a male made sexually suggestive comments to a female in his class and made her uncomfortable enough to report it, he would have gotten a stern talking to at the lightest or at worst been suspended for sexual harassment. But because Lawrence was a boy and an openly gay boy and Brandon was also a guy, the behavior was left unpunished. Correction, the victim was chastised.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">No one, gay, straight or otherwise deserves to be made uncomfortable in his or her own space. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was on the TTC in 2008, riding to school at 8am, and there was a couple in front of me making out very loudly and amorously (touching each other up right in front of my face). Seeing as I was sitting and they were standing I had a good view of the crotch grabbing going on. After about ten minutes of this, I spoke up and asked if they good please stop. It was not what I wanted to see first thing in the morning. It wasn’t till I looked up that I realized it was a lesbian couple. They both immediately attacked me saying that I was discriminating towards them because they were lesbians. I tried to explain that I wasn’t, I was sick and tired of hearing slurping. The conversation got quite heated and what blew my mind was that neither of them would accept that their PDA was excessive. They were so focused on their sexuality and my obvious lack of acceptance of their status as a lesbian couple. Like I GAF! What was interesting is that I was exhausted because I had spent the last three days at the Gay pride Parade painting rainbows on to little kids faces for free (and tiger and lions and bears and spiders and houses. Kids can be so inconsiderate when making requests.) Clearly I have a real issue with homosexuality. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">These two were right up in my personal space, making me uncomfortable and depriving me of the right to have a hassle free, stress free, fish smell free ride to school in the morning. But it was their rights that were being violated when I asked them to stop.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We have to learn that in our attempts to make ourselves heard, we do not shut others up. I am all for gay rights in the State. I simply do not believe that any religion should be forced to go against its beliefs. Homosexuality is a sin in Christianity and for that reason I cannot ask the Catholic Church to make provisions for gay people. </p> <!--EndFragment-->Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-27801234119455970002011-09-28T12:21:00.000-07:002011-09-28T21:35:23.127-07:00All that is necessary for the triumph of evil.......is for good men to do nothing (Edmund Burke)<div><br /></div><div>Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to the youth of 2011. We have become a society of talkers. Name five youths who you know have taken a stand for anything in the past ten years. Who have tried to make waves and actually change society. </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay name 3....</div><div><br /></div><div>Fine then, 2.....</div><div><br /></div><div>Alright can I get at least 1???</div><div><br /></div><div>I sat here for a while, resisting the urge to google this, and realized that I truly and honestly cannot name a single person who has tried to fight the system. Oh I know several people who tweeted about Troy Davies. I know a lot who facebooked about Casey Anthony. I saw several tumblr posts dedicated to the poor American man who was beaten and then killed with a car but I do not know anyone who has actually done anything to try and make a difference.</div><div><br /></div><div>In 2011 we are all a bunch of social media activists, chasing each new "flash in the sun" (as my father refers to them). With every issue of social injustice there is a wave of anger that lasts anywhere from 2 days to a month and then it's gone. Last week Troy Davies was trending everywhere. Today, nothing. We have lost the zeal that drove MLK to make his famous speech. We do not have the drive to sit at the front of the bus. The founding mothers of feminism will shake their heads about how much we scream of the desecration of the image of the black women in music videos then proceed to purchase/download albums by these same artists we tweeted about last night. I myself must confess that "No hands" stays playing on my computer whenever I feel down.</div><div><br /></div><div>We are trend followers. We tweet about these things because we don't want to be left out of the loop. We are outraged because it is right to be outraged. But we do not feel any true passion for any of these causes which is why they fizzle out so quickly. </div><div><br /></div><div>Troy Davies who?</div><div><br /></div><div>We tattoo MLK on our bodies, wear dashikis and grow afros. We celebrate our blackness with "Black is beautiful" facebook statuses then watch Basketball Wives. We put up tumblr status and .jif pictures with things like "Respect womanhood" "It could be your mother daughter or sister" but then we pay money to watch the Lingerie Football League.</div><div><br /></div><div>We are lost. And it is a damn shame. If MLK knew this was what he fought for I wonder if he would have fought so hard.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then again....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe he would have, because this is exactly what he fought for. For the right to choose what we want. We don't have to fight for freedom because we have it (mostly). We don't have to fight for the right to choose because despite the presence of implicit racism and even explicit racism we can still choose to ignore it and do as we wish. If people aren't suffering directly then what are they fighting. If you cannot see your common enemy then how do you unite to fight it?</div><div><br /></div><div>Will I now become an activist? Probably not. Next week I will be back to blogging about hairstyles and cute guys in the check out line. But for now I care and will do all I can till I stop caring I suppose.</div><div><br /></div><div>All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will try not to add to evils triumph. Maybe my one action will slow it's progress just the teensy tiniest little bit.</div><div><br /></div><div>But till then, I will try not to be a facebook, twitter, blogger,tumblr activist. I will not jump on each new trend. </div><div><br /></div><div>All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do something. No matter how little.</div>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-90003412248753226612011-09-25T23:31:00.000-07:002011-09-25T23:38:28.507-07:00ABSU GAng Rape Victim<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:documentproperties> <o:template>Normal.dotm</o:Template> <o:revision>0</o:Revision> <o:totaltime>0</o:TotalTime> <o:pages>1</o:Pages> <o:words>980</o:Words> <o:characters>5587</o:Characters> <o:company>Chams</o:Company> <o:lines>46</o:Lines> <o:paragraphs>11</o:Paragraphs> <o:characterswithspaces>6861</o:CharactersWithSpaces> <o:version>12.0</o:Version> </o:DocumentProperties> <o:officedocumentsettings> <o:allowpng/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:drawinggridhorizontalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:drawinggridverticalspacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:displayhorizontaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:displayverticaldrawinggridevery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:dontautofitconstrainedtables/> <w:dontvertalignintxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Last week a shocking video started making rounds through the Nigerian blogosphere. A fellow blogger sent me an email that contained two videos and a short write up. Being typically me I skipped her words and went straight to the videos. I started from the shorter video, it was a clip about ten minutes long and the first words I heard as I started listening were “but am I not cooperating?” The video was grainy and not too clear but the scene before me was quite clear and easy to read. There was a girl and she was being raped. I watched exactly 33 seconds of the video before I realized this. In this shocking video, the full version of which is a little over an hour long, we see a girl being raped repeatedly by five different men in a dormitory style room. In the beginning of the video we hear her pleading with her captors to let her go and promising she will not tell anyone or make a fuss. Her captors laugh off her pleas and threaten to keep her captive and rape her for two days if she does not “cooperate” with them. We also gather that the rape is her punishment for allegedly insulting one of the five rapists. The rape was recorded and then passed around to their friends, to other students of the university until finally it made it’s way into the hands of Linda Ikeji who in outrage posted it on her blog asking for justice for this poor girl.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was raped at 17. I have never actually come right out and said it before today to anyone but my closest friends and family but while watching that video, I felt something inside me break. The pain and shame I suffered at the hands of one man seemed to me at the time too unbearable to live with and two months later I tried to take my life. I was unable to watch the entire video because the entire time I kept multiplying what I went through by 5 and then trying to imagine the added humiliation of having an entire campus plus countless of nameless, faceless internet users watch my suffering and despair over and over and over again. I could not. I could only cry and so cry I did. And when I was done crying I realized that I had to do something for this girl that no one did for me. I had to stand up and let my voice be heard. I never reported my rape. In fact, it took me over a year to tell my parents what had prompted me to attempt to take my life that night. My rape occurred seven and a half years ago and I would be lying if I said it did not change my life. Till today I have an extreme fear of being stabbed, having been forced at knifepoint into the bushes. So I decided that this girl would not have to live with the knowledge that her attackers got away with what they did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I decided that somehow I would ensure that, these men faced the consequences of their actions.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Unsure about how to go about ensuring this I did the only thing I could think of, I started a petition on <a href="http://www.change.org/">www.change.org</a>. I put up as many details of the case as I could remember and then emailed it to friends and family, stating in my email that “I am not sure if this will make a difference or not, but I cannot do nothing about this. Not this time.” I was remembering the countless horror stories I had heard and forgotten overtime. I remembered the numerous stories of house owners sleeping with their housemaids and not considering it rape. I remembered my guy friend saying to me that he was sure most women in Nigeria lost their virginity before the age of 13 to a family member or a family friend. I remembered all the injustices women suffered in silence in Nigeria daily and I realized I was tired of being quiet. Tired of accepting things the way they were. I can no longer shrug when I hear these stories and say, “well that’s Nigeria for you.” We live in a rape culture in Nigeria, one that discourages victims from coming forward and positively reinforces in men the idea that women are there to be used. And that if a woman is saying no it’s because you have not yet convinced her to say yes. We tell young girls to respect their elders so much that if an “uncle” comes into her room at night, she cannot tell her parents what he did to her because she is afraid to come off as being rude or lying on an elder. We encourage married men to woo young university girls with gifts and car rides and laugh and pat them on the back when they make their “conquests”. Is it any wonder that this young girl did not come forward to report her rape? Who would have believed her?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I feel so much for this poor girl who has had to go through such an ordeal. This petition was started for her and yet I realized that it is so much bigger than just finding her justice. The Vice Chancellor of Abia State University, Professore Chibuzo Ogbuagu,<span style="font-family:Helvetica;mso-bidi-font-family:Helvetica;color:#6D6D6D;"> </span>declared without any form of investigation that such a rape could not have occurred because it was never reported. The Governor of Abia State, Theodore Orji, was adamant that the whole situation, including the tape, was a ploy by his enemies to ruin his political career. Commentators on blogs and news websites, heaped blame on the girl asking what she was doing there in the first place. As though her leaving her house that day was her way of signing an agreement to being gang raped. One callous person said that the fact that she did not scream in the video meant that she wanted it. Another genius faceless Internet user said it could not have been rape because it happened in broad daylight. Excuse me while I check my watch, clearly the appropriate hours for rape must have been added to watch faces. I just didn’t get the memo. With this sort of backlash who would willingly come forward and face a second rape from society? This time of victim blaming behavior is exactly why in a country of over 150 million people, only 1952 rapes were reported last year. A mathematical impossibility considering the sheer numbers we are working with.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>When I started this petition I was concerned with finding the men who committed this heinous act. Now I realize that the issue is bigger than these five men. We need to work on a better Nigeria. There need to be laws put in place to protect our women. There needs to be a police force that we can trust to take our claims seriously and conduct proper investigations that make us bringing our shame forward worthwhile. We need to have an educated and caring government that bothers to fact check before rashly taking a stand or declaring that despite VIDEO evidence, a rape did not take place. We need to stand up and show policy makers that no longer will we quietly shrug and accept our country and all its inadequacies. It is time to show the government that the citizens do care.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There are National and International eyes watching you now, Nigeria. Will you continue to embarrass us?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">If you haven't already signed the petition please do so. Let your voice be heard. Show that you care!</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div id="change_BottomBar"><span id="change_Powered"><a href="http://www.change.org/" target="_blank">Change.org</a></span><a>|</a><span id="change_Start">Start an <a href="http://www.change.org/petition" target="_blank">Online Petition</a> »</span></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="http://e.change.org:80/flash_petitions_widget.js?width=300&petition_id=70104&color=1A3563"></script><p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-72136319689061492762010-10-19T13:58:00.000-07:002010-10-19T14:01:19.270-07:00Sped datng<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibe3ezoNhDq_81GzONc2cnVpiA5DYUVPSnuAbpc5x2d7qtLYupVJrRx-9YN9XCWk89BIU4QYhPPbbJ-Z-Q9eT4cSsHuh1b1e36H-N_o3nnuMEL3vEwZiiGYFwYCfv99mfbrsihfcqcxKe4/s1600/chickenpiratedate.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 318px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibe3ezoNhDq_81GzONc2cnVpiA5DYUVPSnuAbpc5x2d7qtLYupVJrRx-9YN9XCWk89BIU4QYhPPbbJ-Z-Q9eT4cSsHuh1b1e36H-N_o3nnuMEL3vEwZiiGYFwYCfv99mfbrsihfcqcxKe4/s320/chickenpiratedate.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529865165852250866" /></a><br />Well helloo there.<div><br /></div><div>So I'm going speed dating tonight. Just thought I'd tell you guys.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll let you know how it goes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Ta ta</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-46873378694137081332010-09-24T02:46:00.001-07:002010-09-24T02:46:51.109-07:00Jesus Take The WheelI understand why people so often turn to religion. Mostly it used to confuse me how people could think that saying a few words to an unmet deity could ease all their troubles and fix their problems. But lying in bed tonight, unable to sleep, I think I understand it.<p> When your mind is running 200 miles per second, your chest is tight and your stomach is churning, there is a certain appeal in the idea that there is someone, a God, a super power, out there that can take the burdens of the world out of your hands. I can imagine the relief, when one accepts that they have no power and then they mentally hand over their burdens to one that has the power to fix them. Their breathing becomes more even, their chests relax, the tension in their necks and around their mouths eases and they can get a good night's sleep. It must be bliss to believe so strongly.<p> I suppose my problem is that I still believe I have the power. I accept that any difficulty I'm facing is of my own making and as such I am the one who can and should fix it. This is probably somewhat arrogant of me. The idea that I have absolute and total power over everything that has, is and will happen to me. But then that's me. A leo through and through.<p>Jesus take the wheel. If I take my hands off the wheel and offer Jesus the driver's seat, a miracle could happen. He could literally take the wheel and stop me from crashing. But then I know Jesus does not perform miracles on demand. If he did, so many lives would be very different right now. <p>I'm letting go. Actually I'm not. I can't let go of my troubles. Maybe when it was just me I could, but since my daughter still needs to eat, I have to figure out a way to turn an empty bank account into three square meals, extra curricula activities, a winter wardrobe, gas money and surprise presents. <p> I do wish I could be one of those people who just let go and let God. Sadly I do not believe that strongly and I subscribe to the school of "Heaven helps those who help themselves". <p> So as I lay here in my uber comfortable bed, unable to sleep, my hope is not that an unmet deity come and take my troubles from me. It is that I find the strength within myself to solve all that bothers me. It is that I learn discipline, courage, time and money management, self control, patience, love, self respect and proper parenting skills. It is that I find a way to not fail as a single parent. That I provide the best in quality care, love and support for the child I have been charged to raise. And perhaps most important to me at this moment, that I find someone to share the thoughts in my mind with. I don't need a savior, I need a friend.<p>Strawberry Kisses and Caviar Dreams<br>Xoxo<br>Imoteda
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry device on the Rogers Wireless NetworkImotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-89736043841343138502010-09-22T08:45:00.000-07:002010-09-22T08:56:36.159-07:00Ehn hen. What are you looking at?<div>I do realize that I'm a strange person. Forgive me for that. lolol</div><div><br /></div><div>So here are the websites:</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><a href="http://giveme50nigeria.com/" class="tweet-url web" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: underline; color: rgb(255, 0, 77); ">http://giveme50nigeria.com</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Twitter: @<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 16px; "><a class="tweet-url username" href="http://twitter.com/naijagiveme50" rel="nofollow" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; text-decoration: none; color: rgb(255, 0, 77); ">naijagiveme50</a></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Join the movement. Please and thanks</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yxA4AzPlmF0?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yxA4AzPlmF0?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-37454344340126973892010-08-25T13:44:00.000-07:002010-08-25T14:19:41.757-07:00Here.. Have some sauteed frog legs<div>This will be full of random thoughts (mostly to do with fat chicks)- Deal with it.</div><div><br /></div><div>The thing I don't get and really cannot understand is the whole "one night stand" thing. K I understand if you get drunk in the club and decide to sleep with a guy you don't know and never speak to him again. Fine. But when two people who actually know each other and still see each other have sex and the sex is amazing and you keep in contact where is the sense in not having sex again? It's not about pride. You've already done it. I suppose some people just get bored and decide that was great and move on. But really you might as well just have sex again. You've already crossed that friendship boundary. Things will never be "normal" between you too. The best you can hope for now is that you eventually drift away and then you lose a friend and a few orgasms. Such a shame</div><div><br /></div><div>Over the past week at least three people have told me that the way to happiness is to lose weight. Apparently once I drop the pounds the men will come and I will find my prince. Er yea okay. This explains all the skinny girls in wonderful and happy relationships. I mean everyone knows it's a fact that every female who weighs 140 or less is in a committed relationship with an incredibly handsome man who would never in a million years dream of cheating on her or hitting her or abusing her in any way. The ugly, abusive, std passing men are saved for those of us who send the arm on the scale rocketing past 200 lbs. Bull crap. The way to happiness is more likely to lie in me accepting myself for me and not settling for bullcrap. Pretty much the same road for skinny chicks.</div><div><br /></div><div>I believe it was Juiceegal who tweeted that all girls should go stand naked in front of a mirror one day. Now when i read that particular tweet I was walking around naked in my house. I figured that was pretty much the same thing. I find it fascinating that people think fat people are less likely to love their bodies. If you've ever seen me get dressed up you can pretty much assume that I love this body. No it ain't pretty and yes I definitely look better with clothes on (this is sad but true) but I will still flaunt what I got. I just try and do it tastefully. You will get an eyeful of boobs and probably a whole lotta leg. Sometimes my clothes are fitted but mostly not because I'd rather be comfortable. But I love my wide waist belts. I also love my body. And if you've ever been lucky enough to have sex with me (tee hee hee) you probably realize that I do... plus I'm quite flexible. Oh yea.</div><div><br /></div><div>I find my attention drifts a lot. I can obsess over a guy for two weeks. Think about him non stop day and night and then the week later my mind is on someone totally different. I guess I just need to be constantly stimulated. I am known for forgetting that Im talking to someone and sometimes even dating them if they ignore me for a day or two. Yea I work like that. Though sometimes ignoring me sends me into overdrive. I obsess about what I could have done to drive that person away. But only until the next thing comes and gains my attention.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I've decided to ban myself from buying shoes, clothes or make up until December 15th because I believe I am suffering from Omniomania. In order satisfy my addiction to spending money however I decided to take a trip to Bermuda sometime soon. Perhaps I should just stick to buying clothes. Will be cheaper no?</div><div><br /></div><div>Sometime soon I will do a blog about people and the way they are perceived. Till then I will leave you with this little story...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The other day a friend and I were walking down the river bank. A frog hopped up to me and said "Dear lady. I am an enchanted prince. I was locked in the body of a frog by an evil witch. Kiss me and the spell will be broken. I will be returned to my princely shape and you and I can get married and live happily ever after.' </div><div>I looked at the frog thoughtfully for a little while, smiled and picked him up and put him in my pocket. Said bye bye to my friend and hurried off home. She laughed and said "Well I'll be looking forward to the wedding. I'm so glad you found your prince."</div><div>She came over later that night and said "So where is your prince? Have you picked a date yet?"</div><div>I said to her "I have no idea where my prince is but one day he will come. But for now here... Have some sauteed frog legs"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The end<img src="http://i.telegraph.co.uk/telegraph/multimedia/archive/01243/frogs_legs_1243792c.jpg" id="il_fi" height="288" width="460" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Until next time</div><div>Strawberry Kisses and Caviar Dreams</div><div>xoxo</div><div>Imoteda</div>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-22707205060265536672010-06-23T15:59:00.001-07:002010-06-23T16:01:58.666-07:00I am Not a Proud NigerianSigh got so worked up during this video. My english needs to be edited lol. It was a really long video and I had to cut it so bear with the choppiness and lack of organization. I think I still made the point.<div><br /></div><div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4utJkOzlmwM&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4utJkOzlmwM&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div>Ps. Today is my daughter's birthday!!!! Yay she's threee sooooo excited. Party on Sunday at my house and you are all invited. LOL</div>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-30463809660417728842010-06-18T13:54:00.001-07:002010-06-18T13:55:48.781-07:00Child Support DramaHey y'all another long video to make up for being missing almost or over two months :). Miss you guys :P. I've just been super busy and I haven't had much to blog about. Enjoy<div><br /></div><div><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oOi1-91AisA&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oOi1-91AisA&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Ooh I tried to get a little funky at the beginning. Im still learning how to work this imovie thingy :)<br /><div><br /></div></div>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1485289817739483142.post-27828872696812280982010-04-26T06:45:00.000-07:002010-04-26T06:57:39.977-07:00Ten Things I *HEART*Oya <a href="http://mwajimal.blogspot.com/">Mwajim Al</a> has passed this on to me so let me do this.<div><br /></div><div>I happen to *HEART* a lot of things (I assume *HEART* means love. lol)</div><div><br /></div><div>1) I *HEART* my family- my daughter, my mum, my dad, my older and younger brothers, my sister and my lovely cousins. I think I have the best and funniest family ever. And my daughter is just a lil angel- razz yoruba accent and everything lol</div><div><br /></div><div>2) I *HEART* Make- up and colour. You already know this. But lately I especially love lining my inner lid (rim of my lids? I don't know what to call it) with super black liner. It looks sooo intense lol.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) I *HEART* SHOES!!! Speaking of shoes www.zacklo.com . If you feel like spending $300 on me go ahead. I won't even be mad lol</div><div><br /></div><div>4) I *HEART* my friends. They may be just a handful and I'm no popular jingo (wow I'm razz) but I really appreciate the few I have. Its great to have good friends, no?</div><div><br /></div><div>5) I *HEART* writing. Poetry, essays, random blogspot posts. I really enjoy the ability to express myself through my words. Imagine if writing had never been created. I just enjoy having the ability to turn the thoughts in my head into words or even to just see letters and numbers being formed on a blank piece of paper.</div><div><br /></div><div>6) I *HEART* rings and necklaces. Seriously I do. Especially big statement pieces. </div><div><br /></div><div>7) I *HEART* bright nail polish. Green, purple, pink, yellow, electric blue, silver, gold.. loves it. I like darkcolours too though.</div><div><br /></div><div>8) I *HEART* music. My headphones should just be surgically attached to my head. I listen to music all day everyday. From Celine Dion to Trey Songz to Me'shell Ndegeocello. I need music to get through my day.</div><div><br /></div><div>9) I *HEART* reading. I have slacked off a little lately. Was trying to develop a five book a week habit. DIdn't work out too well but I'll pick it up again.</div><div><br /></div><div>10) I *HEART* YOU BLOGVILLIANS!!!!!!! Best online community EVER!! Thanks for putting up with my narcissism and all the encouragements, discouragements and tidbits. Even the negative comments are for me to learn from so I appreciate your honestly. *KISSES* </div><div><br /></div><div>Okay if you read this then you *HAVE* to do your own ten things I heart. I WILL KNOW IF YOU DON'T!!!</div>Imotedahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13909586014620088225noreply@blogger.com7