<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:07:40.890-06:00</updated><category term='food for thots'/><title type='text'>JOURNEY THRU TIME</title><subtitle type='html'>A chronicle of my life as revealed to me</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>27</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-7517693004723677299</id><published>2010-06-07T15:01:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T15:09:37.216-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I am back</title><content type='html'>It has been a while since I posted on here.&lt;br /&gt;A lot has happened in that period and I don't even know where to begin. My people who constantly check on me, I thank you...&lt;br /&gt;It is by the Grace of God, and knowing you care that I am able to put pen to paper ( no pun) again.&lt;br /&gt;I have had an amazing couple of yrs, even though I have had challenges as well. I am beginning to understand myself and what I am about. I am developing a better appreciation for who I've become, and the people wh keep me grounded. I am weeding the pests and the weeds (oxymoron?) who pretend to be flowers out of my life.&lt;br /&gt;I am finally realizing that I am the apple of my Father's eye and that He watches over me even when  I don't know. I know that, armed with this knowlegde, I can face anything that life throws my way, and that I am a survivor.&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to refamiliarizing myself with my blog fam once again. And to all I deserted I hope my heartfelt apology is the beginning of a rekindled relationship&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-7517693004723677299?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/7517693004723677299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=7517693004723677299&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/7517693004723677299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/7517693004723677299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2010/06/i-am-back.html' title='I am back'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-5138448619940068265</id><published>2007-12-11T06:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T07:47:09.597-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I swear...</title><content type='html'>If I so much as hear a peep about marriage, I am going to burst!&lt;br /&gt;Is it the new thing of 2007 that people have to talk about damn marriages? hell, don't get me wrong, if marriage is ur thing, then kudos but i don't want to spend my whole day talking about it with u. And yea, this first five times u showed me ur engagement ring, I thot it was really cute, but every other time after that, it has taken patience i wasn't aware I had to keep me from shoving the ring down ya throat, and that is me being honest...&lt;br /&gt;I am not tying to hate on anyone, but ladies, because u have been proposed to and are getting married doesn't mean I have to jump on the bandwagon right now as well. I mean, I always imagined I'd get married, but i thot I would be close to thirty, and would have sown my oats first.&lt;br /&gt;This venting has been a long time coming. It started when I graduated from college some years back. After the ceremeony, we were taking pictures when people started making cracks about me getting married as the next step to graduating. well excuse the fuck outta me, i thot i was going back to school, get a job and find myself in the process, but shit if u guys want me married, then I suppose I can drop everything I'd planned and just jump on ur train.&lt;br /&gt;Fastforward to thanksgiving...&lt;br /&gt;My mom had come to town for the holidays and we had a jolly old time. popsie didn't show but we made the most of the time we had. couple of hours before i'm due to drop her off at the train station, she calls me into my room, sat me on the bed and&lt;br /&gt;mom: so, bawoni (whatz going on)?&lt;br /&gt;moi: bawo ni kini?&lt;br /&gt;mom: ehn, so about ur husband to be, when are we going to meet him?&lt;br /&gt;moi: oh, thatz easy! u'll meet him after i do, and when we've decided we are going to get married of course.&lt;br /&gt;Mom: ok, if you say so, but are there any possibilities right now.&lt;br /&gt;moi: (getting flustered) no, but i'll let you know ( n thinking i will when people start shitting monkeys).&lt;br /&gt;mom: why are there no possibilities?&lt;br /&gt;moi: I don't know. But I am waiting on God. ( and of course, I'm thinking it might be because I opted for the license-plate placard as opposed to one announcing my singlehood and desperate need for a husband).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose after i'd told her I was waiting on God, she was persuaded. This wasn't untrue, but at the time, I was not worried about being married. Matter of fact, I considered myself way too young for that institution. I would get little comments about it every once in a while, and I always managed to brush it off. Living in different cities helped as well, as they couldn't get on my case everyday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came the 21questions from extended families! Haba, these are people who made no impact whatsoever in my life o. I hadn't even heard of most of them until I came to live in the states, and all of a sudden, they deemed themselves authority figures on me living my life. Shio. I for cuss people out if I wasn't worried about giving my mom a heart attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and did I mention the family friends? And by these I mean my parentz friends. awon gboran mi deleru, adani duro de oni gbese eni (busybodies for short). again, these are all poeple i met when I came to live in the states, even though i'd heard about some from naija.&lt;br /&gt;One of them in particualr actually sat me down when I was just 21 and said, i can do more than one thing at a time, meaning school and of course marriage. It all sounded so techincal and I couldn't help but be disgusted even though I know she probably said it cos she cares.&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I come in contact with or talk to these people, I am subjected to the same convo, to the point where I would get on the defensive before they can even start, and I started to avoid them altogether. Sad! I know!&lt;br /&gt;I happened to run into one of such women not too long ago and she accused me of not calling her. I wish I would have been able to tell her the reason, but as always, I kept it to myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately though, my dad's been the one on the marriage trip. hell, it's not like i'm shrivelling like some old prune, but pops been on the marriage bandwagon lately, and its knocking on my last nerve. I was home for a couple of weeks last month when he started asking questions. Funny enough, my mom is now of the mind that it will happen when it happens, and she usually is the one who bugs about things like that.&lt;br /&gt;After i'd fended off different ways the question could be asked, he came home one day all excited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;pops: hey, i've got great news! ur friend in nigeria got married!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;moi: I had tons of friends in naija, and some I still keep in touch with, but seeing as how he knows about the wedding and I didn't, whoever it was couldn't have been that close a friend.&lt;br /&gt;pops: well, i suppose he wasn't much ur friend. well, actually, he's ur cousin on ur mom's side of the family thru so n so ( n he launched into my pedigree, most of which i still don't have a clue about).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;moi: I still don't know him...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pops: well, he went to school with ur younger brother, so he's ways younger than you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I am feigning a yawn, cause there is no way I am sitting through a discussion where the main focus is where a 22yr old guy (give or take one year) just got married and my ass is still single.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward to last nite. I get another call, and it's my pops again. we chatted about random things and out of nowhere he said to me, "igbawo ni o ma mu oko e wa ko wa mowa o?" (when are we going to meet your intended...&lt;br /&gt;I'm so stunned by the sudden change in convo, that all I can manage are a couple of ems. And pops, bless his heart, thinking i hadn't heard the question, repeated himself. I got myself out of my reverie to mumble a when I know, you'll find out. Thankfully he got off the phone, but not before reminding me that time waits for no man.&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I was already seething. I don't know what I'm s'posed to do. In case people are not getting the memo, I like my life the way it is now. Single befits me, and I am happy! isn't that what should matter?&lt;br /&gt;Hell, even if I wanted to get married three years ago and it didn't happen, would it kill people to not talka bout it all the time. I feel like I had to defend and explain my singlehood to everyone, and frankly, I'm shot of the idea...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the next person to ask me why i'm still single better pray, because i am jsut ready to get physical!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-5138448619940068265?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/5138448619940068265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=5138448619940068265&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/5138448619940068265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/5138448619940068265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/12/i-swear.html' title='I swear...'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-6615698553074000027</id><published>2007-12-09T12:42:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T14:56:07.542-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Hero Becomes the "Heree."</title><content type='html'>Dec 8t&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;h&lt;/span&gt;, 2007...   the hour is 1930&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started pacing the kitchen, frantically searching drawers and cupboards, while racking my brain with thoughts of what to feed my empty stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had opened up the refrigerator so many times already that the temperature inside it was close to the room temperature, and as stocked as the refrgerator seemed, there was nothing inside it that was even mildly appealing at the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was still trying to figure out how to quell the hunger in my stomach, in walks my brother, grumbling about how hungry for Chinese food he was and how he needed the number to the panda express two blocks over...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I wasn't really in the mood for Chinese food, I convinced him to order instead from Banana Leaf, (an Asian-Thai restaurant) and to pick me up a serving of their pineapple fried rice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A half-hour later, I went into the living room only to find my brother watching some kinda sports show on Tele, and on inquiring, found that he had not even placed the order with the restaurant. He had instead been so engrossed with wuteva sports was he was watching that he had simply forgotten about the hunger in his stomach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was "seeing red" at this point, and hungry beyond comprehension, so I thought I'd just give in and eat noodles instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had just poured the noodles into the boiling water on the stove while talking on the phone to my older sister when I heard the back door of the house slammed close and a very loud thud reverberating through the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked in the direction the sound came from and saw my brother curled on the ground, apparently hurt from a major fall. ( did i mentioned that it had snowed the previous day and even though the the snow had been shovelled off the grounds, the subsequent rain and the almost zero temp had made for nice sleet formation and the salt we'd poured on the grounds did not seem to have any effect. But I digress...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The maternal (albeit latent) instinct in me kicked in as I hurriedly got my sister off the phone so I could go and help my brother up.&lt;br /&gt;On openeing the door, however, I managed to slip on the ice as soon as I stepped outside and before you could say "hell-on-ice," I found myself taking a seemingly unstoppable tumble like Jill from the famous classic "Jack and Jill."&lt;br /&gt;I hit my head hard on the first stoop, but just kept sliding down, and hurting my neck and back the whole way down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally managed to stop just before hitting my brother who was still hurt from the fall and lay curled up on the ground still. It was then that I realized there was no way I could have gotten out of falling, because in my hurry to help out my brother, I had completely forgotten to wear shoes, and there was absolutely no friction between the soles of my feet and the gadem ice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both managed to get up fianlly and I was able to get out a weak &lt;em&gt;are you ok? &lt;/em&gt;to him.&lt;br /&gt;Holding on to the door, we made our way back into the house whereupon I started to nurse my head, while he tried cleaning the ginormous bruise he'd sustained on his arm.&lt;br /&gt; Then, as if on cue, we both looked at each other, and bursted out laughing amidst fits of painful groans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As, I finally popped a couple of caplets of aleve in my mouth, I was able to reflect on what should have been me heroic moment, u know when I gallantly rescue my brother from his fall, in a shining armor no less... and instead,  I ended up needing to be rescued me damn self, and I was only able to conclude that that sucks&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-6615698553074000027?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/6615698553074000027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=6615698553074000027&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6615698553074000027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6615698553074000027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/12/hero-becomes-heree.html' title='The Hero Becomes the &quot;Heree.&quot;'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-3268948931987680867</id><published>2007-12-09T11:33:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-12-09T12:10:59.570-06:00</updated><title type='text'>December '07</title><content type='html'>Welcome to the last month of this calendar year!&lt;br /&gt;This here is praying unsurmounted blessings and divine annointing for everyone during this special time...&lt;br /&gt;This is the month that the Lord hath made, so let us rejoice and be glad in it.&lt;br /&gt;As the special day that is christmas draws nearer, remember in prayer those dearest to you and those less fortunate than yourselves.&lt;br /&gt;Spread the tidings of great joy, enjoy your gifts, count your blessings, and like someone said to me in an email, remember that Christ is the reason for the season...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-3268948931987680867?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/3268948931987680867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=3268948931987680867&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/3268948931987680867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/3268948931987680867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/12/december-07.html' title='December &apos;07'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-674421952784502623</id><published>2007-11-16T08:21:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T08:48:18.319-06:00</updated><title type='text'>MC cont'd</title><content type='html'>After the wedding, i kept in touch with MC, we would talked on the phone almost everyday, and everything seemed marvelous. it felt as though all was finally right with the world. A couple of months after I'd first laid eyes on him, I got the opportunity to see him when he came back to the city I'd met him at. i of course made like I was sick at work and took the day off, so i could drive the three hours it would take me to get to him.&lt;br /&gt;When I saw him again, it was as though he'd been there all along and no time had passed since the last time I saw him. we reminisced and had a nice long laugh. everything was just as it should have been .&lt;br /&gt;I left the next day to go to work as the people I work with would've just let the work pile on, and I would have had to do it in the end.&lt;br /&gt;we kept in touch after that and made plans to meet up again. in the midst of that i made a trip back to London (will be posted later), and got back, and all of a sudden mister was no where to be found.&lt;br /&gt;While I was in London, i had spoken to him on a Friday, i think it was and he'd told me he was at a wedding rehearsal. Now, this coming from someone who shared a lot of things about himself when I'd first met him, and who'd talk about any and everything whenever we talked on the phone, it was very surprising that he hadn't mentioned the fact that he was going to a wedding or that he was in the wedding. ( abi! u sha have to be in a wedding to go to the rehearsal. unless u r the chauffeur or the planner, and ol boi was neither).&lt;br /&gt;anyway, so as to not disrupt the process, he asked that I call him back within the hour and when I did, some other guy picked up the phone and started acting like an idiot, so I hung up.&lt;br /&gt;I did not try calling him that saturday, and actually waited till monday to give him a call, cos i figured he would have been well rested. When I called, he didn't pick up his phone, and normally he would have called back right away or at least the same day, but this time i did not even hear from him for over a week, and even then, the flow of the conversation wasn't quite right. it also seemed like he couldn't wait to get off the phone, so obviously i wasn't able to tell him, how i felt.&lt;br /&gt;it wasn't too long after that when I started thinking back and thought, maybe he was the groom at the wedding rehearsal he went to, and maybe he was at his honeymoon the whole time I couldn't get a hold of him.&lt;br /&gt;I mentioned this to a couple of my friends and they of course want me to call him anyways and leave a nasty message on his voice mail  if he doesn't pick up, or email him some words that would make him lie awake night after night and ponder on better ways to act.&lt;br /&gt;see as how I can't seem to bring myself to do any of that, i haven't been able to talk to him. I don't even believe in confrontation over the phone. I like to be able to see the person i am confronting before I get on their case about anything, so i wait for the day when that would happen. until then... I have his number deleted off my phone since i'm of the mind that everything is kind of good...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-674421952784502623?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/674421952784502623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=674421952784502623&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/674421952784502623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/674421952784502623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/11/mc-contd.html' title='MC cont&apos;d'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-9206672487759549901</id><published>2007-10-20T16:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-20T17:43:30.147-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>i met the cutest guy a couple of months ago. I was slated to be at a wedding outside of town...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;seeing as how it was also some sort of family affair, a bunch of cuzinz had come from all ova and we were celebrating the engagement nite and a sorta family reunion thingy....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As some nigerians are wont to do, an idiot decided to walk headlong into me and couldn't even come of with the littlest of excuzes, rather, she started going off about how I was supposed to have moved when I saw her coming and how she needed to get thru to some corner....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well ezcuse the f..k outta me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;there were people standing all over the place tryna catch a glimpse of wutz going on wif the celebrants, it was gonna take more n a miracle to get thru the crowd, n miss idiot knowing that that the right course of action was to walk into me n see if I disappear... or so it seemed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say, I was seething at this point, but I managed to keep my cool, cuz I wasn't going to start a row n ruin my cuzin'z ish...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so i calmly said to her that her rudeness was unnecessary n walked outta the hall to get some fresh air....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well, mr cute witnessed the whole thng and apparently saw the expression of my face afterwards....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day was the wedding and that was the first time I had seen mr cute ( henceforth refered to as mc). I had invited a frind to the wedding and for some reson he couldn't stay long, so I had gone to see him off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was walking back to the reception from the parking lot when somene said "excuse me" from behind. I turned around and met with the cutest, most alluring eyes I had ever seen that side of the united states. He was on the phone, and as soon as I turned around, muttered a quick goodbye to whomeva he was talking to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then walked up to me, held out his hand, smiled n told me his name was "mc." I almost lost myself right then, and could not remember my name for a minute. n lemme tell you, it has been a while since anyone made me forget my name is fiaca...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept my gaze on him, and just wanted to lose myself in his smile, but then I finally realized I was supposed to get back to the party, n chill with my cousins. so I told him so, and he said he'd walk with me if I did not mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we started talking and he mentioned that I had caught his eye at the engagement party the previous day and that he was walking up to me when he saw the expression on my face n thot I looked like I was about to hit someone... so he figured he'd gove me time to cool off, but then he'd had to leave...&lt;br /&gt;we talked some more, but for the most part, I was just mesmerized by his being. soundz cheesy, i know, but i hadn't met anyone in a while who made me feel as though he was my oxygen supply, n I was going to run out of it as soon as he walks away from me.&lt;br /&gt;we exchanged numbers with promises to keep in touch. he lives in a totally different state so I knew it would be a while before I saw him again, so that put a damper on things a bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back into the party n it wasn't even five minutes when I was calling him, because I wanted to talk some more. ordinarily, I would have thot this behavior absolutely unsoundly, but I  did not care. he got on the phone and said he'd meet me out front, so went outside again, met with him and we talked some more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;at the end of the nite, we said our goodbyes and said we;d come up with a way to see each other as soon as possible&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-9206672487759549901?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/9206672487759549901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=9206672487759549901&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/9206672487759549901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/9206672487759549901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-met-cutest-guy-couple-of-months-ago.html' title=''/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-6804867791594392676</id><published>2007-05-01T02:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-05-01T03:07:08.898-05:00</updated><title type='text'>MY BLOG PEEPS!</title><content type='html'>I know sorry doesn't quite cover why I've gone awol these past weeks. I'm going to say it nontheless. I am sorry for seemingly ignoring y'all. It wasn't intentional. Life just got crazy there for a moment, tho everything is back on track now.&lt;br /&gt;I know I have missed a lot. I haven't even been able to browse my favorite blogs. Again, all I can say is sorry. E ma binu simi...&lt;br /&gt;So, I mentioned earlier about some news I thot might be 2 early to share. Waffy, if u r reading this, it should put the preggy thots to rest.&lt;br /&gt;I'd been having some issues with my landlord. Or should I say the management of the apartment comeplex I reside in. Wuteva the hell they call themselves. I can't even be bothered anymore. At first, it wasn't more than the usual tenant landord palava, u know. I think I'm a fairly reasonable tenant if I do say so myself, and I had been contemplating just vamoosing from this city, so I was gonna stick with them.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, from the onset of 2007, it seemed they made a resolution to ignore issues that tenants have ( I mean me). Instead of them to fix things they know need fixing, the maintenance guy drops by, makes a hella ruckus, and 3hrs later, he tells u he's done checking it out, and someone will be out to fix it. Excuse the hell outta me, but I thot the maintenance guy is the fix it guy! Anyways, the fix it guy shows up a couple of days later, and after he's done, he tells you he would get someone to fix it.&lt;br /&gt;There was also the issue of the roof that needed fixing from the tornado damage. You would think this idiots will give a notice telling me, I would be sleep deprived due to all the pounding they're doing on my roof. Na lie! They just do wuteva!.&lt;br /&gt;The final straw was when I called to remind them to fix my screen door they'd been promising to work on for a coupla years. Those idioit had the nerves to tell me that it would take a while as they had to order the netting in bulk. Wut the hell do I care about that. I'd barely hung up the phone when I heard the rustling of paper at my door. I opened the thing, and they had stuck a lease renewal notice to the door. To add insult to injury, they were raing my rent, more than the standard.&lt;br /&gt;So I ran the notice to their office, stuck up my middle finger and told them to kick rocks. I'd had enuff.!!! I need a roof outside of this complex, and come rain or high water, I was going to get it.&lt;br /&gt;I started searching for apartments immediately, and on impulse I thot, wouldn't it be cool to buy a house. Ok, it wasn't totally impulse, I'd thot about it every once in a while, but i neva did anything about it. ANyways, once I got the thot rolling I have to do something about it.&lt;br /&gt;It came to be that I found one sha, but I had to to close on it and be outta my apartment within 3 wks.&lt;br /&gt;I just finally moved in, and my whole body is still sore from the experience, but I'm trying to live it up sha.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I'm gonna jet as I still need to catch up on zzzs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-6804867791594392676?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/6804867791594392676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=6804867791594392676&amp;isPopup=true' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6804867791594392676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6804867791594392676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/05/my-blog-peeps.html' title='MY BLOG PEEPS!'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-6643316845822932102</id><published>2007-04-12T12:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T12:53:17.118-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random</title><content type='html'>English language is not as easy as we think,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A prefect was asked by the principal of a high school to remind the rest of the students that they were to meet in the chapel.&lt;br /&gt;Running from classroom to classroom, he kept shouting, "Al of you, went to the chapel. Others are wenting there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was reading the reader's digest and came across somethng I thought was hilarious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am neither an atheist,&lt;br /&gt;nor an agnostic, claims a man.&lt;br /&gt;I am an acrostic.&lt;br /&gt;It is all a puzzle to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-6643316845822932102?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/6643316845822932102/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=6643316845822932102&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6643316845822932102'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6643316845822932102'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/04/random.html' title='Random'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-2442433021245445670</id><published>2007-04-04T18:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-05T10:05:18.261-05:00</updated><title type='text'>my 2nd boifriend</title><content type='html'>was an ass. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;OK&lt;/span&gt;, so I embellished a little, sue me. Alright, so he wasn't quite an ass, he was a horse's ass. yep, that's what I said, a big horse's behind!&lt;br /&gt;Now, that's out of the way, I have to admit there were a lot of great moments when we dated. Yea, I remember having the best times with him when he wasn't being a horse's behind. I am going to be in so much trouble when he gets a load of this, but who gives a rat's ass, right? Right!!!&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I met Horse's Ass (henceforth referred to as HA) the summer of my sophomore year in college. I had gone to apply for some odd job with a couple of my cousins when HA rolled in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;building&lt;/span&gt; with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;a couple&lt;/span&gt; of his friends. The attraction was instant even though I ignored him and just chilled. When we were done filling out all the forms, his friends started &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;macking&lt;/span&gt; my cousins...well, at least they tried, while HA tried putting his smooth ( or so he &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;thot&lt;/span&gt;) moves on me. I wasn't to be persuaded tho, so he went on home, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;disappointed&lt;/span&gt;. As soon as I was rid of him, I couldn't help but think about him tho. The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;broda&lt;/span&gt; was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;foine&lt;/span&gt;. Anyways, there was nothing I could do. I was already dating someone, and that was tasking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;enuff&lt;/span&gt; that I couldn't fathom myself juggling HA with the current beau.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, we all got the job, trust me, you don't want to know what it was. Just know it was a lot of hard work, and I pretty much spent the whole summer juggling &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;school&lt;/span&gt;, work and beau. It was an endless cycle, and I don;t think I could survive it if I had to go &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;thru&lt;/span&gt; that again. After work each day, HA would trying some of his moves but it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;neva&lt;/span&gt; worked. I finally quite the damn job about two months later. Trust, that was more than I could take of it. After I left the job, I lost contact with HA. By the end of the summer tho, the relationship &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;btw&lt;/span&gt; beau and I had fizzled due to some other &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;shait&lt;/span&gt;. Oh well, I said. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I had the few weeks before school resumed to hang out and just chill, and not worry about anyone but me.&lt;br /&gt;It was the middle of the fall semester when I ran into HA again. He had gotten so much more handsome. He had his hair braided in a form of cornrow that made him look even more distinguished. It wasn't the sort of braids that made guys look sort of riff-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;raffy&lt;/span&gt;. On him, it just made one want to gobble him up...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;Anyways&lt;/span&gt;, we got to talking and before you could say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;supercalifragerlisticespiaodocious&lt;/span&gt;, we were an item. The first couple of months were just blissful. A lot of walks in the park, not minding the weather, eateries, sight seeing, and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;I'll&lt;/span&gt; let you fill in the blanks. Then I started noticing some changes in him. One of the things that was particularly mind boggling was his always referencing some &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18"&gt;brodas&lt;/span&gt; in the south side, and the ways he would say it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19"&gt;mehn&lt;/span&gt;! OK, in case you are wondering, if you &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20"&gt;eva&lt;/span&gt; knew what city I lived in, you would understand that, but for the sake of argument, lets just say that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21"&gt;wasn'&lt;/span&gt;t exactly a good thing.&lt;br /&gt;Another thing was the smoking issue. I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22"&gt;neva&lt;/span&gt; smoked in my life and I honestly don't see the appeal in it. I mean, just the smell of the damn thing is &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23"&gt;enuff&lt;/span&gt; to make me wanna throw my guts, not to talk about the dangers of it. Having said that, that is not to say I don't have friends who smoke. I do, and we have an understanding. They don't smoke around me, and they definitely don't smoke in my house. When they start craving their ciggy, then it's time to up and leave. I would imagine that this is the way it &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24"&gt;would&lt;/span&gt; be with other non-smokers with relations with people who smoke.&lt;br /&gt;Back to my story &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25"&gt;jare&lt;/span&gt;. I had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"&gt;neva&lt;/span&gt; seen HA light up before, and after the second or so month we were dating, his jacket ( it was winter ) would smell of smoke. When I confronted him about this fact, he was always quick to say it was his friends who came to his house and smoke, and that was why all his clothes smelled like cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;As much as I detest the smell of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27"&gt;ciggy&lt;/span&gt;, I wasn't one to go tell people on the streets that they needn't be smoking, but I see HA do it all the time, and make faces about why he couldn't understand it and all that other BS. So you understand my confusion as to why he would have a problem with strangers smoking in public, but not be fazed with friends doing the same thing in his house. I have had crazy friends in my time, and some of my friends would say I was a bit crazy too. But I have &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28"&gt;neva&lt;/span&gt; had the urge to disrespect &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29"&gt;any one's&lt;/span&gt; house, neither would I let someone disrespect mine, regardless of our relationship. If one of my friends had lit up in my house, it would have been the last time s/he stepped foot in my house, but not before paying to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30"&gt;have&lt;/span&gt; the stench removed. Yep, I can get irritable like that.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I don't know what the hell I was thinking, but I let the smoking issue go. As the month wore on, I noticed more and more odd habits from HA. I would be at school, and he would suddenly show up, and want to go somewhere, or do something, and the same thing at work. I get his not being in his class and all, but I needed at least a 3.0 G.P.A to keep &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31"&gt;fafsa&lt;/span&gt; happy, and to maintain my job. I couldn't very well tutor people if I was flunking my classes, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32"&gt;abi&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I was able to shake him off that habit, but it took more time and energy than I thought possible. Before I realized, HA was spending evenings in the lobby of my apartment complex, and professing his undying love. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33"&gt;Puh&lt;/span&gt;-lease, If anything, I became even more weary. I had strong feelings for him, but I don't know if I would've called it love. As time went by, I noticed HA &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34"&gt;being&lt;/span&gt; more and more dependent. He would call every five &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35"&gt;minutes&lt;/span&gt; and talk about how much he missed me, and he would be surprised I did not feel the same way. I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36"&gt;finally&lt;/span&gt; had to explain the concept to him, u know, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37"&gt;ther&lt;/span&gt; was no way I was going to miss him when he did not give me the chance to. I saw him almost every hour, and when I didn't see him, he was on the phone trying to get his 2cents in.&lt;br /&gt;About 5 months after I'd been dating him, I caught him smoking &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38"&gt;cigar&lt;/span&gt;-weed with a bunch of his friends. We had gone to my cousin's &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39"&gt;BBQ&lt;/span&gt; and he'd stepped out to hang with some of his friends. I walked outside, and there he was holding the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40"&gt;cigar&lt;/span&gt;-weed. Yea, I don't mean cigarettes, I meant &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41"&gt;cigar&lt;/span&gt;-weed. Knowing me, I asked him what he was doing with it, and he said to me, "I wa&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_42"&gt;s &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_43"&gt;holding&lt;/span&gt; it for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_44"&gt;lagbaja&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;That was just it for me. I detest people playing on my intelligence. I can;t stand people who lie. I mean we don't always do the right thing, but cop to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_45"&gt;wuteva&lt;/span&gt; yo&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_46"&gt;u've&lt;/span&gt; done and move on. That's my philosophy. I think less of people who lie about their shit. To me, it says, u knew it was wrong, but u did it anyways, and instead of fixing it, you're lying to cover it up.&lt;br /&gt;I hitched a ride home with one of my other cousins that night, and I kept thinking to myself that who knew what else he was capable of doing...&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, to cut a long story short, I finished my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_47"&gt;sophomore&lt;/span&gt; year and moved to a different city for the fall of my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_48"&gt;junior&lt;/span&gt; year in college. Through the summer, I would run into HA on &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_49"&gt;occasion&lt;/span&gt;, and each time, he wanted to get back together, but I was just done with him.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't long after I started my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_50"&gt;junior&lt;/span&gt; year when my phone rang. It was one of my friends who was just calling to see how I was. Apparently, she missed me. Anyhow, in the course of our conversation, she mention HA was now spending time in Jail. Yea, he was in possession of some coke, I think it was, so he was nabbed by the police and he was doing time for his crime.&lt;br /&gt;That was when all his casually referencing his &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_51"&gt;brodas&lt;/span&gt; in the south side clicked. They were the ones supplying him.&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I said out loud when I heard was,"&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_52"&gt;oniranu&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_53"&gt;alakoba&lt;/span&gt;!" Imagine if I would've still been with his arse when he got nabbed, I would have been in a lot of hot water me damn self not knowing I have no clue what the first thing was about that sorta thing. Anyways, I thought, good riddance to bad rubbish!&lt;br /&gt;It's been ova five years, and even though I go back to that city, I have neither seen nor heard from him, and I am just perfect with that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-2442433021245445670?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/2442433021245445670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=2442433021245445670&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/2442433021245445670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/2442433021245445670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/04/my-2nd-boifriend.html' title='my 2nd boifriend'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-4842162030741090380</id><published>2007-03-29T03:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T03:16:41.750-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>You are unknown to me&lt;br /&gt;I know not who you are&lt;br /&gt;I know nothing of the pain you went through&lt;br /&gt;Neither do I know what your family is going through&lt;br /&gt;I keep seeing the image of you in my head&lt;br /&gt;And tried as I have, I can't get it out&lt;br /&gt;I see your face inbetween everything I do&lt;br /&gt;Which in turn makes me wonder what you're doing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way you laid on your side&lt;br /&gt;Your arms curled around you&lt;br /&gt;As though you were cold, or perhaps afraid&lt;br /&gt;Afraid of love unknown&lt;br /&gt;Or maybe you were sad&lt;br /&gt;Sad about the life unspent, things not done&lt;br /&gt;Maybe you were angry, and rightly so&lt;br /&gt;Angry for the chance you never got&lt;br /&gt;To make your mark in this here cruel world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know not who you are&lt;br /&gt;And yet, I feel connected to you...&lt;br /&gt;May you rest with the Lord.&lt;br /&gt;Amen&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-4842162030741090380?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/4842162030741090380/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=4842162030741090380&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/4842162030741090380'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/4842162030741090380'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/you-are-unknown-to-me-i-know-not-who.html' title=''/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-6247058028298810016</id><published>2007-03-26T08:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-26T08:17:09.449-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>it feels as though I have not been here in ages. my darling blogpage, I was not trying to abandon you, but you know how it is! I had to see about my survival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much to blog about but so lil time. I have the best of news, although it may be a lil bit premature on the sharing....&lt;br /&gt;Hmm, I find myself slapping myself (lol). I'm being too vague, and I need to quit it.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, the week has been hectic and I forsee the next couple of weeks will be as well. My days are packed full and there is not enuff hours in the day to do the things I need done. I tried borrowing minutes from tomorrow, but realized that leaves me short on tomorrow's minutes to begin with. It's an endless cycle&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyways, before i leave, check out this really  cool site. &lt;a href="http://www.jimiart.com"&gt;www.jimiart.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-6247058028298810016?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/6247058028298810016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=6247058028298810016&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6247058028298810016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/6247058028298810016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/it-feels-as-though-i-have-not-been-here.html' title=''/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-7471097861826635575</id><published>2007-03-18T12:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-18T12:47:54.845-05:00</updated><title type='text'>moving on</title><content type='html'>Everyone, at some point, has been thru things you wish to God you could just forget. Things that for the most part, you can't really believe happened to you, and you wouldn't wish on anyone. I have had my share of experiences like that and as bothered as I would get, I always found solace in the phrase, "MIND OVA MATTA."&lt;br /&gt;Shait happens. We wish it wouldn't, but it does. I find things bother me mostly because I let it, and so, when shait happens, I think on it for a lil while, figure out what I could have done differently (sometimes, i could have done things differently, other times, it was just some inevitable shait that was bound to happen anyways).&lt;br /&gt;So, when you feel bothered by shait you can't control, feel free to cop the saying&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MIND OVA MATTA&lt;br /&gt;I NO LONGER MIND, BECOS IT NO LONGER MATTAZ&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-7471097861826635575?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/7471097861826635575/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=7471097861826635575&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/7471097861826635575'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/7471097861826635575'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/moving-on.html' title='moving on'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-3627891165352869458</id><published>2007-03-18T12:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-29T13:42:48.899-05:00</updated><title type='text'>stop whining! just count your blessings</title><content type='html'>haba, i have 2 lil of this, and i need a lil bit more of that!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find myself thinking these thoughts more often than not. A lot of days are filled with thoughts of what I want and what I need instead of just thanking the Lord for what I've got...&lt;br /&gt;I find myself praying in the morning thanking God for His blessings, but that gets interupted with thoughts of "Lord, I know You have done so much for me, but can You please make it just a lil bit more." Now, I am not saying that is a bad thing, but will I ever learn to just be thankful in one prayer, without whining about what else needs topped?&lt;br /&gt;Ask, and it shall be given unto you! Yea, I know the script, but so does everyone else, and instead of whining about what all is missing, I need, well we need, to start thanking God for what is present in our lives. Things like family, friends, love, you know the priceless things we take for granted.&lt;br /&gt;OK, I am about to do it again. I know I am not exactly where I want to be yet, but I love where I am, and I pray I have the years on my side so I can get to where I need to be. But really,I find myself taking into account what I have been through the past years, and what I have already achieved this year, and I know I AM BLESSED.&lt;br /&gt;When you feel the need to whine, please remember the people who are less fortunate than yourself, and who would give up their right arm to be exactly where you are. When you have them envisioned, I hope that You realize that you, my friend, are favored by the Lord, and learn to count your blessings...&lt;br /&gt;Peace&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-3627891165352869458?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/3627891165352869458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=3627891165352869458&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/3627891165352869458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/3627891165352869458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/stop-whining-just-count-your-blessings.html' title='stop whining! just count your blessings'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-4352196271663671195</id><published>2007-03-10T18:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-11T09:44:55.175-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ok, i got this off omosewa</title><content type='html'>New Meme&lt;br /&gt;1. WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? Same thing I always wear when I am lounging.&lt;br /&gt;2. WHAT KINDA UNDERWEAR ARE YOU WEARING? Lacy, kind of racy.&lt;br /&gt;3. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Sounds of the freaking freight train.&lt;br /&gt;4. CAN YOU JUGGLE? Neva even tried.&lt;br /&gt;5. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Mini bagels. The cinnamon kind.&lt;br /&gt;6. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOUR WOULD YOU BE? blue&lt;br /&gt;7. HOW IS THE WEATHER RIGHT NOW? Perfect. It’s been long coming.&lt;br /&gt;8. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? pale&lt;br /&gt;9. FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT THE OPPOSITE SEX? His shlong. Ok I lied, His eyes.&lt;br /&gt;10. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Probably not.&lt;br /&gt;11. HOW ARE YOU TODAY? Lovely. Just got back from a party. Getting ready to go to anoda one&lt;br /&gt;12. WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND? Baba God, u.&lt;br /&gt;13. FAVOURITE DRINK? Tangerine flavored iced tea.&lt;br /&gt;14. FAVOURITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK? Vodka n cranberry juice.&lt;br /&gt;15. FAVOURITE LUNCH MEAL? Coconut rice.&lt;br /&gt;16. FAVOURITE SPORTS? Dance.&lt;br /&gt;17. HAIR COLOUR? Depends on the season, tends to go from black to red, permed to natural&lt;br /&gt;18. EYE COLOUR? brown babe&lt;br /&gt;19. TATTOOS OR PIERCING? Definitely piercing, and only on the ears.&lt;br /&gt;20. FAVOURITE MONTH? Every month is my favorite.&lt;br /&gt;21. FAVOURITE FOOD? Amala and ewedu. And only cos I have not had it in a while&lt;br /&gt;22. FAVOURITE DAY OF THE YEAR? Which year?&lt;br /&gt;23. ARE YOU TOO SHY TO ASK SOMEONE OUT? Depends on the level of attraction, and how long the bobo is dragging. U can only wait so long before ur hair turns gray&lt;br /&gt;24. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS. It depends on the mood I am in at the time the movie is showing&lt;br /&gt;25. SUMMER OR WINTER? I plead the spring&lt;br /&gt;26. HUGS OR KISSES? kisses.&lt;br /&gt;27. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE NIGHT STANDS? Relationships, but who knows, u know?&lt;br /&gt;28. CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA? Vanilla, if I only had the 2 choices. Not a big fan of either.&lt;br /&gt;29. DO YOU WANT YOUR FRIENDS TO WRITE BACK? Don’t make no difference, we’re gonna talk about it anyways.&lt;br /&gt;30. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? Whoeva is the most bored at the time they read this.&lt;br /&gt;31. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING NOW? Juggling my text book with this jack reacher thriller.&lt;br /&gt;32. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? A mouse, ok that was a joke.&lt;br /&gt;33. FAVOURITE BOARD GAME? monopoly.&lt;br /&gt;34. WHAT DID YOU DO LAST NIGHT? Watched all 3 episodes of star wars.&lt;br /&gt;35. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? Turn, stretch, Thank God, then think, same shit, different day&lt;br /&gt;36. WHICH DO YOU BELIEVE, EVOLUTION OR CREATION? Crolution. The combo of the two is wut’ll save the world&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-4352196271663671195?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/4352196271663671195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=4352196271663671195&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/4352196271663671195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/4352196271663671195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/new-meme-1.html' title='ok, i got this off omosewa'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-4973923942345061543</id><published>2007-03-07T07:11:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T07:13:42.307-06:00</updated><title type='text'>happy b'day to me</title><content type='html'>hip hurrah&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-4973923942345061543?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/4973923942345061543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=4973923942345061543&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/4973923942345061543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/4973923942345061543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/happy-bday-to-me.html' title='happy b&apos;day to me'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-1906599035284718623</id><published>2007-03-06T13:46:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-07T07:14:52.717-06:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='food for thots'/><title type='text'>hmmm</title><content type='html'>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I HATE MY JOB!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of two-faced &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;moda&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;effers&lt;/span&gt; stepping to me like the got &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;somn&lt;/span&gt; to say.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of lazy bums who do nothing but gossip all day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of people assuming I want the details on their lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of them thinking I'm &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;s'posed&lt;/span&gt; to share details about mine just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;becos&lt;/span&gt; theirs is an open book for Tom, Dick and Harry's perusal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of working with idiots who think they are smart.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of working with assholes who think they are just honest.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of working with rude and inhumane jackasses who think they're blunt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of people &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;assuming&lt;/span&gt; I have nothing to say &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;becos&lt;/span&gt; I don't talk when I just cant be bothered.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of people yakking without really saying anything&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of working with people who portray about as much professional decorum as rats. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;oga&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;patapatas&lt;/span&gt; talking about prioritizing this and that shit when their ability to prioritize is, at best, questionable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of feeling like I'm stuck in this situation &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;becos&lt;/span&gt; the idiots known as &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;oga&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;patapatas&lt;/span&gt; have lost their damn minds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of the stupid new rules they just imposed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;And I'm tired of pretending to follow the damn rules.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of people kissing asses to get somewhere.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;ogas&lt;/span&gt; who let their asses be kissed .&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of the whole &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13"&gt;democracy&lt;/span&gt;... we all know it's just crazy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired of letting my mind go to waste &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14"&gt;becos&lt;/span&gt; I have to work with this idiots.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired about the level of stimulation...about as strong as pinching your palm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#993300;"&gt;I'm tired I'm still here...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#00cccc;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I love my job&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love being up when most people aren't.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love the level of diversity in what I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15"&gt;working&lt;/span&gt; with the computers and the different analyzers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love figuring out what's wrong when they are broken.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love both &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16"&gt;pre&lt;/span&gt; and post analytical phases of my job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love analysing different samples.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love figuring out what the results mean for each sample tested.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love the complexity of my job.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love the danger factor that compels you to be extremely careful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I love going to work without a clue as to what I'm going to do once I get there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Mostly, I love the fact that when I'm done for the day, I can smile knowing I've made a difference in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17"&gt;someone's&lt;/span&gt; life, somewhere...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-1906599035284718623?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/1906599035284718623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=1906599035284718623&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/1906599035284718623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/1906599035284718623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/hmmm.html' title='hmmm'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-8108652401769671263</id><published>2007-03-01T15:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T16:27:09.022-06:00</updated><title type='text'>DV CONT'D</title><content type='html'>Ok, so i'd been meaning to blog about the convo I had with DV since I got back from the other land that's supposedly flowing with milk and honey (no be me, na our pple talk am).&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, after I'd spoken with KF who informed me that DV had been calling her n all, I gave him a call. After the usual pleasantries, I asked after opeke and casually mentioned that I hope he didn't boil too badly, u know, from all the hot water he woulda found himself in with opeke now.&lt;br /&gt;Omo, words plenty for inside kobo book. Before I know it, DV had started recounting how he met opeke and for how long he's known her. Apparently, he'd only just met her a couple of weeks prior to our chanced meeting. She sorta just started working at his job and since they had an office event that day, she'd asked him to escort her, and he obliged. I no know which one concern my own agbero with ovaload. Anyways, to cut long story short, from what he told me, to say opeke was mad woulda been the understatement of the millenium. So he tells me that when opke got done running her mouth {his words, not mine}, he told her that the only reason he did not heave her at the bus stop was so he would not seem rude, and all that shait about not knowing her long enuff for her to be trying to lay claim to him. Since I wasn't there when all this went down, i can only take his words for it, even though I wondered why I need to know this info. I did not have long to wait before DV started on how he's always thot he was going to be married to me, still feels the same way and how our meeting was divine. Up until he said that, I thot it was becos MT and myself couldn't make up our minds for shait and ended up travelling the length of ox4d street.&lt;br /&gt;Since I had'nt seen or spoken to the boy in about 8yrs, to say I was not surprised about the whole marriage thing would be a lie, so without seeming rude, I said to him that I am obviously a changed person from the last time he saw me and he's probably changed too. Moreova, I know as much about him now as he knows about me, which isn't saying much.&lt;br /&gt;ANyways, at the end of the convo, I'd manage to rustle me a ticket back to London for in a couple of month's time, and I guess there will be more talks about the whole marriage thingy tho I don't see myself dating intercontinentally.&lt;br /&gt;Ok, I have to admit that when I was in naija, i thought he was appealing, but I was kinda put off by the age difference, and when I saw him, I thot he was still very cute, but o boy is geographically undesirable. Hmm, I wonder if he'll think about relocating...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-8108652401769671263?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/8108652401769671263/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=8108652401769671263&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/8108652401769671263'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/8108652401769671263'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/03/dv-contd.html' title='DV CONT&apos;D'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-561205663275457867</id><published>2007-02-22T14:23:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-22T15:10:43.373-06:00</updated><title type='text'>tres shots a la caffeine on the rocks, por favor</title><content type='html'>Last saturday started out like every other saturdays, with the exception of the much anticipated annual office party. I'd planned on getting at least 8 hours of sleep {which almost neva happens} before prepping for the party, after which i'd have to report for work...pesin come land of milk and honey, na soso to dey work, chei!&lt;br /&gt;As usual, i wait until the last minute before laying down to sleep, at which point i am just counting down the hours instead of actually sleeping. Come time to get up and ready for the party, and I am as tired as ech hee double hockey sticks. I get up anyways, and jump in the shower. Then comes the deliberation of what to wear. I tell ya, for office parties, suits or anything professional is ovarated. Since I wasn't going to wear jeans, I slipped on my baby-lace kaba that momc made for me.&lt;br /&gt;I got to the party a lil later than I was supposed to, u know, I had to make sure all heads would turn when I show up in my native attire, and I was not disappointed. it was the talk of the nite... well, u know, when we weren't talking about other things. The party was nice, we ate, and drank and danced. Come see oyinbo ppl dey move body for dance floor. The sight is to die for. {hmm, I think that was a rhyme}. U should'a seen me gyrating, and partaking in the country line dance. U woulda thot I'd been doin it my 'ol life.&lt;br /&gt;Trust my dbn (dudu by nature) ppl to request the cha cha slide after the oyinbo ppl requested their country dance. Personally, I was fine with wuteva. I only have to hear some beats, and i can't stop my legs from moving and the rest of my body from gyrating.&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, after much merrymaking, it was time to press on to work. That was when the lack of sleep started to catch up with me o. And there was no excuse. I could not call off of work as my oga had seen me gyrating earlier on. So, I went to work anyways, but i was so tired and drowsy, I had to make a pot of coffee within the first hour. Every so often, I would feel myself drift, and would need anoda cup of coffee just to make it thru the hour. I suppose that's what I get for not sleeping and using up my energy reserve dancing.&lt;br /&gt;By the time I got off work sunday morning, I was totally pooped, and as soon as I made it home, I just crashed. The whole of sunday was a blur, and the only important thing I did, other than speaking with AZ, MT and cuz Bk, was catch up on zzzs.&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of zzzs, i needsta get goin if i'm gointa make itta work in one piece today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-561205663275457867?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/561205663275457867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=561205663275457867&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/561205663275457867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/561205663275457867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/02/tres-shots-la-caffeine-on-rocks-por.html' title='tres shots a la caffeine on the rocks, por favor'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-8986522479293410859</id><published>2007-02-17T16:47:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T16:53:26.879-06:00</updated><title type='text'>wora hell is this?</title><content type='html'>Anoda day of work. I find myself cursing under my breath. This is just 2 dam much. I want to go home. Yea, I said it! I want to go back to naija. OK, anywhere I don't have the responsibility of driving in blizzard conditions to get to work will do it for me right now.&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't going to happen though. I needed to be at work and I knew it. Where is absolute vodka when u need it... Sometimes, I wonder why I chose the medical profession. Ok, well, it's becos nothing else does it for me. Hmm, I start work at 10pm, 15minutes from now, and my legs are just rooted to a spot in my closet. My broda is not home, so I have to scrape the snow from my car. I find mysef appreciating him for the little things he does (most of which I take for granted).&lt;br /&gt;Realizing it's too late to call in, I called anyways and told them i'd be late. There is this nonsense going on at work now about random drug testing on employees. I s'pose a couple of pple got caught with their pants down. I get downstairs, and out the door, and thought, DAMN, I NEED A GARAGE...&lt;br /&gt;I am scraping snow off my car and freezing, and thinking about the BELVEDERE VODKA in my frrezer. I hate orange juice with a passion, but i find myself thinking I wouldn't mind the combo right this minute. But with my luck, tonite will probably be the nite i'm randomly picked to be tested. Still freezing, wishing my broda wasn't outta town, I make a mental note to pick him up something nice next time I go to the mall.&lt;br /&gt;ffwrd an hour and I am finally at work...&lt;br /&gt;Imagine my surprise when i realize I was the only one who made it in?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-8986522479293410859?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/8986522479293410859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=8986522479293410859&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/8986522479293410859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/8986522479293410859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/02/wora-hell-is-this.html' title='wora hell is this?'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-117096575471464041</id><published>2007-02-08T13:53:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-02-09T16:27:25.923-06:00</updated><title type='text'>ASK, N U SHALL RISIV</title><content type='html'>my ppl in blogland, i am back!!!&lt;br /&gt;I hope u all missed me as much as I did u? I also bet u r wondering as to the hidden meaning behind the title blog today. Well, it's just madam Teva verbalized and I thot in keeping with the believe (if u believe me), I better update like she asked.&lt;br /&gt;Like I said before, I am back. I find it relatively hard for the most part to write that, becos it siginifies the return to life of work, and responsibilities for the most part... Man I wish I could eternally be on vacation. Oh, well.. I guess I better yank my head outta dem clouds before i go 2 far.&lt;br /&gt;London was so much fun. I had the best time just catching up with my peeps ova dia. it's been 2 long since the last time i was there. &lt;br /&gt;Before I begin recounting my experiences, why do some people choose the most public places to pass gas? I am not trying to gross anyone out, and neither am I trying to be grossed out walking down the street, so if u r one of those people who pass gas any and everywhere, please reconsider.&lt;br /&gt;I bet by now you are wondering what brought that about. Well, I boarded the AA with my travel mate and sista (AZ) on the way to London Heathrow jeje, and as soon as I got to my seat, the first thing we were welcomed with was the smell of somebody's rotten insides. I won't even go into details, but suffice it to say that the smell of ammonia would have been preferable to what I got.&lt;br /&gt;We settled in and seeing as how i hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in about 30hrs, and had to drive 3hrs right after work to meet up with AZ before heading to the airport, I was rightly tired and zonked out before take-off.&lt;br /&gt;I woke up with a start about an hr into the flight and started to watch the in-flight movie being shown, but I was still so tired i kept sleeping off and on. I felt sorry for AZ at some point because even i knew I probably was not the best travel mate at that point in time, but abeg, na condition make my crayfish bend... so no fault me.&lt;br /&gt;ffwrd 4hrs and I was as good as new. I finally sat up and asked AZ if she was up for a game of PHASE 10 (it's a card game in case u r wondering). We started playing and were having so much fun that even the oyinbo dude who sat beside me was mesmerized...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4439/3851/1600/847275/Phase_10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/4439/3851/320/635129/Phase_10.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, we landed in London in the am ( I love flying ovanite) and were picked up by my sista, miss thang (MT) and her family. Trust and we immediately launched into gists of what's hapened since we were all together.&lt;br /&gt;As soon as we made it to MT's house, it was just on, we were multitasking ( u know trying our hands at unpacking, still sharing stories and prepping to go out all at the same time). By the time we got done, we were tired and opted not to go out, so intead we settled in and listened to songs by D'Banj. I have to admit the guy is pretty gud seeing as that's the first I've heard of him. &lt;br /&gt;Next morning, I got up, showered and had a light breakfast, and walked with MT as she took my 7yr old nephew to school. Then I hooked up with AZ and a couple of her friends on Oxford street (one of whom happened to have some kinda discount at M&amp;S's). I got into the store and just started throwing things in my cart, it was all well worth it tho. After we'd shopped and dropped, we went to their baked goods and i stocked up on the jam doughnuts, u know, like used to eat in naija, while MT went gaga for apple turnover...can't say I blame her tho...she loved it before she made her big move to the states.&lt;br /&gt;After we got done, we walked back to the tube station and made the journey back to MT's...&lt;br /&gt;Enter the house and I had the best time just hanging with my one yr old nephew. He is so cute and just loves to box, and dance. It's amazing how good a time you can have staying at home annd just hanging with kids.. (ok, if you repeat this, I am going to vehemently deny I said that).&lt;br /&gt;Come saturday morning, and my oldest broda, who i fondly refer to as Eti Yaya(EY) pops in with his 2 sons. it was a full house as them kids were all running around, playing games and everything was just bustling. Again, most of the day was spent in the house just chilling and catching up with EY, his wifey(ZO), and the kids. I snuck outta the house for a lil bit with MT tho to gi to Sainsbury's so I can get the ijekuje my pple back in the states wanted...imagine, i travel cross country and the only thing pple from back home want is sweets.&lt;br /&gt;Sunday, I realized I've been in London for about 4days, and I have yet to call anyone. With 2 many ppl to see and not enuff time to do it, i decided on calling a friend(DV...I was going to say VD, but it sounded wrong) of mine from naija who I had not seen in about 9yrs. I picked up the phone and dialed DV's number. His is a story I would love to share, but anoda time. ANyhow, omo did not pick up o, so I left him a voicemail saying I was in town, and that was the end of that. &lt;br /&gt;The rest of sunday, I spent with MT shopping all ova the place, and ended up in Peckham. As usual, there were plenti naija ppl whose presence were made know by the noise factor in the name of convo. Na like so efribodi dey yarn dey broadcast dia bnez for the place, and all the time, I just kept thinking, My pple, una fit tone am down a couple of notches.&lt;br /&gt;Monday night was spent in Tilbury town with my third sista (KF) and her pple. Again, I had the pleasure of hanging out with my 8yr old neice, and 5yr old nephew.&lt;br /&gt;All them kids are just absolutely darling that for a lil bit, they got me thinking about dropping a couple meself... except for one minute detail, I still gotta find Mr. Right and Mr. Right now is ovarated and just won't do. Ok, I am definitely getting ahead of myself here. I still have at least a couple of more yeas of being totally ( and rightly so) self absorbed before I start thinking about children. ANyway, my last night in LOndon, and I realized I have not bought my parents anything, so off i went with MT to the M%S on Oxford street to shop. I also needed to pick up souvenirs like refrigerator magnets, and shot glasses(keepsakes for friends in the states). SO we shopped at M&amp;S, and came time to buy the magnets, we couldn't make up our minds as to what store to buy them from so we found ourselves going up and down the length of Oxford street while laughing at each other for our inablility (it seems) to make a decision. We finally found a store that had what we were looking for and decided we were tired, we chose to take the bus back to the tube station rather than walk. When we got off the bus, and started to walk the few feet to the tube station, I felt someone brush against me, and thot the quy looked so much like DV. To cut a long story short, I called the fact to Mt's attention and she said to call out his name. We both did just as he was stepping on the bus.&lt;br /&gt;He looked at us in disbelief and quickly grabbed the opeke he had on his arm ( she got on the bus b4 he did) and stepped off the bus. O'boy seemed surprised to see us that it seemed the only thing he was capable of doing was just hugging pesin. After the initial hello, MT tanda for back, DV then introduced opeke o. Me self come say hi, then tell opeke say sorry she missed her bus. B4 the woman fit reply, DV just open mouth talk say he no be biggie and dem go catch another bus( Mind you all these convo is taking place between hugs o. I almost felt suffocated, in a good way if there's such a thing). All the while, opeke just dey look on with basilisk eyes, like she was eady to take someone on.&lt;br /&gt;Three buses later and I am looking to DV as if to say omo, u need to get on the next bus, and he insists its no wahala, and he was happi where he was. B4 I fit say anything else, opeke open mouf talk say, "Well, we do have to be somewhere!" I look MT, look the mama (opeke) come look DV, na so I begin dey laff on the inside say na for doghouse the boy go sleep 2nite and he no even sabi. B4 I fit talk something else, anoda bus pulled ova, DV wan collect my number, but before he fit open phone, na so opeke drag am enter bus, but not b4 he asked that I call him. As soon as the bus comot, na so MT begin laff. I come pull out phone make I take call ams, na so my sista talk say if I call am today, given the state opeke was in when she dragged him on the bus, the dog house would be a palace compared to where he'd be spending the nite.&lt;br /&gt;ANyways, we got on the train, and when we got home, i started to pack my stuff and did not call DV like he wanted.&lt;br /&gt;FFwrd some hours, and I am back in the states. KF called and while on the phone with her, I recounted my exprience seeing DV with the Opeke, and she said she wondered why he kept calling her while she was at work since he rarely eva does. Unfortunately she missed all his calls.&lt;br /&gt;I made the 3hr drive back to my town the next day and wth a pang, I realized that my vacation was ova, and I had to get ready for work in the morning. Then I could not help but think about things like bills, and work hours... all things that did not cross my mind for the tiniest fraction of a second while I was on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;I've been back at work for a couple of days now and there were some changes put into effect while I was gone, but we'll talk about that later.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to bed...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-117096575471464041?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/117096575471464041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=117096575471464041&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/117096575471464041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/117096575471464041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/02/ask-n-u-shall-risiv.html' title='ASK, N U SHALL RISIV'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-116962734593129250</id><published>2007-01-24T02:17:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2007-01-24T02:29:05.940-06:00</updated><title type='text'>In da words of miss Teva, "it's about blinging time."</title><content type='html'>Happy new year to my people in blogsville, bloggerland. It has been a while since the last time I jotted down my thots as u all know. Thanks to Miss Teva for asking about updates. To make a long story short, I thot I’d start my first blog of the year with new resolutions like half the world has done. But 24 days later, I thot, 4get it…. How many people remember their resolutions a couple of months into the year anyways.&lt;br /&gt;So instead of resolutions, I decided to make promises….of simple things really…&lt;br /&gt;1) Promise to post in my blogpage as much as I visit others. (Let’s see how long that lasts).&lt;br /&gt;2) Promise to seize each day and make it mine.&lt;br /&gt;3) Promise to drop everybody who mooches off me&lt;br /&gt;4) Promise to drop every negative person I’ve eva come in contact with&lt;br /&gt;5) Promise to see my parents and siblings more often&lt;br /&gt;6) Promise to be a lil bit less normal than I was last yr&lt;br /&gt;7) Promise to go to work when I can and stay at home when I can’t (cuz those pple will be foine with or without me..&lt;br /&gt;8) Promise to add to this list as soon as I think up other things I need to do.&lt;br /&gt;I saw a last minute deal on aa.com last week and booked me a flight. I can’t wait to be out of this place. It’s only been 24days outta the year and I already need a vacation. Having said all that, I am sitting at my desk at work and just thinking… I have about 18hrs before I hop on the plane…&lt;br /&gt;Yea, that’s rait… London, here I come…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-116962734593129250?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/116962734593129250/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=116962734593129250&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116962734593129250'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116962734593129250'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2007/01/in-da-words-of-miss-teva-its-about.html' title='In da words of miss Teva, &quot;it&apos;s about blinging time.&quot;'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-116254295692405098</id><published>2006-11-03T02:19:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-11-05T20:40:59.456-06:00</updated><title type='text'>aeroplane palava</title><content type='html'>My ppl, It is yet another day, the 18th of october actually, and I am blogging from the great St Louis airport..I forget what the name of it is... Anyway, I just got off work about 3 hours ago, and I barely had time to rush home and freshen up before heading to the airport. Yes o, that is what I said. I am scheduled to be in Las Vegas in a couple of hours, but that is another tori.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point of this here particular blog is to whine, for lack of a better word, about our small a** planes. I knew it wasn't going to be as big as a boeing 747 (insert names for bigger planes here...) or anything like that since it said it was an american conection flight ( someone pls explain the difference!). But I thought that it would at least have the 10 rows that are common with those type of planes. As soon as I boarded, I knew it was not going to be the smoothest of rides. Those pple knew what they were talking about when they said connection flight. I can almost swear that the whole plane was smaller than the regular molue that tranports pple around the Lagos area. Did I say almost? Well, scratch that! I meant most definitely. I could not stand straight while walking the aisle to find my seat. As a matter of fact, it felt like I was crawling ( I wonder who the rocket scientist was that came up with a plane size that small).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finally found my seat and got myself ready for takeoff. Mind you, I walked all the way to the front of the damn thing and back before finding my seat. I guess in my subconsciousness, I was hoping for hidden cabins. Imagine my suprise when I realized there wasn't any. I have no idea why I deluded myself into thinking that I could take a nap for a couple of minutes ehn (I had just gotten off work and I hadn't slept at all). The takeoff was anything but smooth, it felt as though I was riding the vertical velocity at an amsement park and I was suspended in air for what seemed like ages. The whole 45minutes of it was absolutely terrifying ( and that is saying a lot seeing as how I usually love to fly).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, come landing time, and I could feel my gut running away from me. And I mean that almost literally. Does that make sense? I am not even sure anymore. When we finally disembarked, I almost kissed the ground. I can't believe that I will be going through this again in a couple of days. I am starting to think that maybe I should just drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, Now that I have whined a little( again insert better word here), I think I will go to starbucks and order myself a white chocolate mocha and a muffin to calm my nerves while i wait for my connecting flight to Vegas, where the world awaits. Till next time...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-116254295692405098?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/116254295692405098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=116254295692405098&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116254295692405098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116254295692405098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2006/11/aeroplane-palava.html' title='aeroplane palava'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-116211984677989925</id><published>2006-10-29T04:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T11:31:43.016-06:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd chances...a little too melodramatic, u think?</title><content type='html'>I don't quite remember how many times have heard the phrase "be greatful for what you have right now because it can be taken from you at any time."&lt;br /&gt;The real meaning of some things (e.g. phrases like that and sometimes life in general) gets lost on me sometimes. Maybe because I don't try hard enough to understand it.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think I'm that far from the truth when I assume that each one of us has at some point in our lives taken things for granted that we should have been very grateful for...&lt;br /&gt;What is the point of my being "ridiculously" (?) philosophical today, I feel myself being asked? It's about everything, it's taking a step back and enjoying life for what it is at every second, regardless of how broke you are or how unfair you think life is is treating you at the moment ( among other things). Above all, it's giving thanks to God for His mercies and grace every waking moments of our lives.&lt;br /&gt;I had the day off work last thursday and had planned lunch with a friend. We went to Saputo's ( an italian ristorante in the downtown Springfield area). I really did not do much after I got home even though I stayed up. My friend showed up at my place later on @ night and we played phase 10 ( a card game that every household should have). After that, we watched a couple of movies ( first casanova: which I still think everyone should see, and then monsoon wedding: eh, it was an ok indian movie... or maybe it's hindu. someone please tell me the difference!).&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I finally went to sleep at about 6am and woke up some 8hrs later feeling tired, so I just stayed in bed. While laying, I canceled my plans for the evening and called my sista( I talk to her a lot) and told her I was tired. A little while after I got off the phone I started to feel hot (and if u're thinking menopause, you couldn't be any farther from the answer). Thinking that the heater was turned on too high I got up to lower the temp control only to find out that it wasn't even on ( and it was about 45degrees outside).&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I walked over to the sliding door, so I could open it and I started to feel dizzy. The next thing I remember my younger brother ( we live together) was asking me what I was doing on the floor. I had apparently passed out and fell the 90degrees to the floor, hitting my head. I had a killer headache when I tried to get up and for a while I was not sure where I was or what I was doing there. Seeing as how I still felt dizzy, I asked to be taken to the ER (My very first hospital visit... for something serious... since I was born).&lt;br /&gt;The doctor thought it might have been some kind of vagal reaction ( ask me how long it took their whole team to figure that out!!) because they could not figure out what else could have caused the temporary loss of consciousness. Mind you this was after I was poked for blood, and had to have fluids passed ( which I don't remember getting... they better not bill me for that). Oh, and did I mention that I had to have an EKG done and a CT scan of the brain.&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully all my my labs came back ok and I was discharged with instructions to follow up wit my GP.&lt;br /&gt;Now that I have had time to think about the event I can only be greatful to God for still wanting me above ground and be really thankful my brother was at home, because i might still be passed out right now ( and before you start wondering, alcohol had nothing to do with it)...&lt;br /&gt;I can now surmise that I still have a bunch of people I need to bug... among other things.&lt;br /&gt;No seriously, I am just really thankful, more so than usual, and maybe I look at things a little bit diffrently now... but who ever said that was a bad thing?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-116211984677989925?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/116211984677989925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=116211984677989925&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116211984677989925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116211984677989925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2006/10/2nd-chancesa-little-too-melodramatic-u.html' title='2nd chances...a little too melodramatic, u think?'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-116097575121616926</id><published>2006-10-15T23:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-26T11:32:53.993-06:00</updated><title type='text'>The Departed...</title><content type='html'>It has been a while since the last time I posted anything anywhere. The last week was unusually busy for me. So much so that I had no personal time for myself (na so so wahala pesin dey try correct). It seemed to me as though I had barely fnished working on one task before I was whisked away to begin on another. In the seconds I was able to steal to ponder on things, I promised myself that I was going to celebrate the end of the week by seeing a movie, and maybe take in dinner at an Italian restaurant I'd had my eye on since I spotted it some months back, and maybe I will squeeze in a prayer or two for a much better week to come. (who knows...)&lt;br /&gt;I woke up this morning feeling unexplainably tired. My friend was s'posed to call and confirm what movie we were going to see. (Maybe I was s'posed to call her...I forget these things. I guess that's why a lot of people transpose the digits that make up my age. Now I think about it, I can't blame them one bit).&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, while I was waiting for my friend to call, I figured I would finish the remaining tasks I had to work on. (I have to admit that it never once occured to me to call her. I think I am losing it. Huh, I wonder if I need medication for that yet).&lt;br /&gt;After I get done, I decide to do my laundry... somethng I had been putting off for a couple of weeks because of the hectic schedule I've had. I finished the laundry and was putting stuff away when my friend (bet u'r wondering by now if she has a name or not. I would tell u, but what does it really matter, right?) called and told me she just woke up. Imagine that...It was 6pm and she just woke up. The rest of the world (ok, so I exaggerate a little) had already been up for twelve hours.&lt;br /&gt;We decided on &lt;em&gt;The Departed &lt;/em&gt;after screening all the movies that were playing and noting the ones that were just a waste of two hours (and most of them were).&lt;br /&gt;Fast forward a little bit and we are at the theater. The movie had been playing for about five minutes when I finally got settled in my seat. I of course began multitasking again...Keeping your eyes on the screen while munching on nachos, and sipping on soda is not an easy job, but one of the few jobs I don't mind doing.&lt;br /&gt;An hour into the movie and the already thick plot is thickening even more and I am thinking to myself that this is one of the best movies I've seen this year (and that is saying a lot since the movies that came out this year have literally been crap). Anyway, the movie ends, I turned ova to where my frind was sitting and we both agreed that it was a good movie, but felt like there was going to be a second part to it (and maybe a third if they feel so inclined. As if another trilogy is what we need. I am not bitter sha).&lt;br /&gt;On the way home from the theater, I am thinking to myself, trying to figure out why the movie is titled &lt;em&gt;The Departed. &lt;/em&gt;I pulled into my parking spot and the answer comes to me. Half the characters in the movie were killed. I can only assume the other half would be killed if they ever try to make a sequel... unless the sequel is titled The Returned, in which case the original cast will return. I wonder if that is too freaky even for television.&lt;br /&gt;I am lounging on my sofa trying to recapture the events of the past week, and see how much dent I put on my workload, and I realized I did nothing at all the past week other than my laundry and the drive I made to go see my family (mind you they live in a different city, three hours drive from me). The rest of the time, I basically spent lounging from one spot to the other.&lt;br /&gt;Hmm. It's hard to believe that I was so busy doing nothing that I did not have time to do anything that needed done. I wonder what the next week will bring.&lt;br /&gt;Until then...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-116097575121616926?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/116097575121616926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=116097575121616926&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116097575121616926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116097575121616926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2006/10/departed.html' title='The Departed...'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-116050793308263574</id><published>2006-10-10T14:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-10T14:18:53.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>TOAST TO YOU...</title><content type='html'>HERE IS TO YOU...&lt;br /&gt;WHO IS LIKE YOU?&lt;br /&gt;DAMN FEW...&lt;br /&gt;AND THEY ARE ALL DEAD.&lt;br /&gt;THANK YOU....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-116050793308263574?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/116050793308263574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=116050793308263574&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116050793308263574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116050793308263574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2006/10/toast-to-you.html' title='TOAST TO YOU...'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-116043117156251278</id><published>2006-10-09T13:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-09T16:59:31.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>My dear Bims, Congratulations!!!</title><content type='html'>My cuz just got a job, in NJ so i'm pretty happy for her ( and for myslef too). I guess it's partly because I am expecting a bigger package for xmas from her, but I know it's mostly because i know she deserves it especially since she had to cross a major border ( diff countries). B4 i keep rambling on, I just wanted to say Kudos cuz.... It's been long coming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-116043117156251278?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/116043117156251278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=116043117156251278&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116043117156251278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/116043117156251278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2006/10/my-dear-bims-congratulations.html' title='My dear Bims, Congratulations!!!'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34761328.post-115878354733609700</id><published>2006-09-20T15:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-20T15:19:07.343-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WHERE TO BEGIN???</title><content type='html'>So,&lt;br /&gt;i read me emails today (it has been long ovadue), n I see a post from a friend about this blogger thing. It is kinda cool, so i figure I'll start posting stuff too. This way at least ppl have my permission to read my diary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lest i forget, thanks Deewan for sending the post.&lt;br /&gt; I s'pose I will continue this as I go along.&lt;br /&gt;Till my next post, stay tuned!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/34761328-115878354733609700?l=4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/feeds/115878354733609700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=34761328&amp;postID=115878354733609700&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/115878354733609700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/34761328/posts/default/115878354733609700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://4wardnfiaca.blogspot.com/2006/09/where-to-begin.html' title='WHERE TO BEGIN???'/><author><name>4wardnfiaca</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02649585528328663458</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
