It's been FOREVER

i feel like i haven't posted here in years. although it was only a few weeks ago.......

Anyways, a lot has gone on since then.

I went for the FYP award thing which was cool. Met some amazing people. Have also tried to do loads of schoolwork (although some with fail...gosh, i really should get writing a certain politics essay that was due some several ages ago). I'm on half term now, which is a great plus, and my friends cane down from manchester to stay with me for the weekend which was amazing as well!

Finished my UCAS form and sent it all off.

YESTERDAY I GOT MY FIRST OFFER- from York for PPE, Conditional AAB. Rather exciting!

This part of the UCAS process can be nerve-wracking, but it's fun all the same :)

Travel Woes

I spent two days....two days!!!....just getting from my house back to Cheltenham last weekend. I don't have ages to put in all the details but basically it was one horrible journey, i tell you. To be honest, after getting my oyster card lost and far too many other disappointments on the first day, I went back home. Thank God for my lovely sister who was there. So i went back to school late, left on Monday morning, and then I was stranded at Swindon for FOUR hours!!!!! At first, for a while, I was sat on a coach- and then, alas, the broken down coach was towed away, and I was standing in the freezing cold! I didn't get to school till evening. I should have got a refund.

And then when I got back to school I heard that this girl I was supposed to give a seminar with was mad at me. I've apologised to her, tried to reconcile, I've done my bit, and whatever she does with hers is not exactly my concern.

Basically, it was a horrible series of unfortunate event.

((But I've got over it now and I'm in London again for the weekend with my mum and another sister. yippee!!!))

Exeat!!

It's been far too long. School has been up to my neck lately and I haven't got much time to do anything, but now I'm home resting for the weekend as it's exeat. I say resting, but in truth I'm preparing a talk and handout for "Marxist Contribution to the Economy", a presentation which I am giving on Monday with an 'oh so wonderful' girl in my year. She actually is literally the perfect person- a friendly, pretty genius!!!! But I can't see how I'm going to get things done in time. Everything is a little too stressful at the moment!!!
Oh but between my last post and now, so many things have happened - both good and bad, of course...

Number 1 bad thing--- up till now, at this certain hour, after agonising hours and DAYS of waiting expectantly, the US Congress is still lulling it's FAT self slowly towards passing the bail-out rubbish. It's 700 billion dollars, just pass the stupid bill and save the global economy from collapsing....although to be honest THAT would be very interesting!!!

Number 2 bad thing---er...i can't think of anything else at the moment

Number 3 (er...not bad) thing---i think i'm fairly done with the first part of the ucas process

Number 4---i had the greatest day ever on my birthday- but i still fail to come to terms with the fact that i am now officially OLD

Number 5----i am a winner of fyp!! go me!

Number 6---i was commended in trinity college cambridge philosophy prize *hiss* i should've got first prize

Number 7---my school has this preparing for interview classes, in which i was forced to give a speech on why i wanted to study ppe, and ...y'know, it wasn't THAT bad.....

Number 8---i have had an absolutely AMAZING weekend so far, and i've got my lovely friends to thank for it

Number 9---my politics teacher is now in love with me, despite telling me off earlier this term---- but my english teacher is a bit upset with me because in the same class he handed us back our essays, in which i got the highest score of 29/30, i wasn't paying attention and i slept off. When he woke me up by asking a question, i simply said i wasn't sure- because i wasn't, i actually wasn't sure!! I mean, i was still half asleep for goodness sake! So anyway he believes I possess a well of knowledge (which i do) which i am too selfish to share with the rest of the class (which i am) and thus pretend to be stupid in class but then have the most amazing essays (er...why would anyone want to look stupid?)

Number 10- i do not, and probably will never, like Richard Dawkins...forgive me, dear God, for this feeling of hatred....but it is all out of love for you

Number 11- i now love economics, and everything econowise, so much that I now read THE ECONOMIST *gasp* so I am developing a passion for the last part of the course i am applying for, which i hadn't really loved so much before. in fact, my economics teacher told me last class that I was on FIRE! Go me!!!!

Number 12--i am generally pleased with life, although scared out of my wits that i won't get an interview, or i won't prepare enough for the TSA PPE test, or I won't get into oxford.....AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! It's a horrible thought, but then again SHIT HAPPENS. And even if I don't get in, I will get where I want to in life...because Francesca said so. Francesca, by the way, is only the most amazing friend ever. I do love her really.

Well, i should get back to work now....so the 'oh so perfect' girl won't have me messing up her presentation. I'm going back to school tomorrow :( and I might not post again for a while :( :( :(

Ah, the wonders of a new school year!

I regret my hesitation now about school....indeed these first few day have been wonderful!!!
It was lovely to see all my friends again, it was exciting to discuss results *wink wink* ...well, apart from my economics UMS which I (still in shame) haven't told anyone, it's been great making new friends with the new lower sixths in my boarding house, it's been amazing to hear 'some certain persons' actually speak to me- regardless of the fact that they got more or less no reply :P
We've got a new housemistress in my boarding house- and she's absolutely awed by my beautiful hair *grin with pride* All my housemistresses still love me, and my personal statement wasn't completely ripped apart by my tutor, lol.
Plus, my room neighbour is absolutely amazing, she lets me play my music as loud as ever even though she only usually listens to what i'd consider as boring and worthless....she's even beginning to hum my songs :) I have also braided the hairs of about a million people in only 3 day (including hers)
Classes have been amazing so far....in English we made a poster of Mr. Ramsay from Virginia Woolf's "To the Lighthouse" We literally drew him "narrow as the blade of a knife".....well actually we drew a really long man holding a knife in his hand, which I coloured red for that majestic effect of blood- making him a serial killer :D Was amazing!
Apart from the fact that it has been constantly raining, things are actually looking good....but I'm home for the weekend because---- IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOMORROW!
And all I can think of is the fact that I am growing old :(

GASP....It's September!!!

This should have been posted yesterday...but...

IT'S SEPTEMBER!!!

September the month of new things...new schools, new seasons, new friends, new shizzlemagubbys...... but best of all....................

IT IS THE MONTH THAT THE EARTH WAS BLESSED WITH THE BABY ME!!

Ah, how joyous.

I shouldn't be in such a good mood, because I've just returned from the most horrible outing ever- but ah, it's September, so that will be a story for another day.

This December...

OK, so it's several months away....so? The only thing I can think about at the moment is this December.

I went to church today. I'm Christian, I should say, and thus regularly perform this genre of action, so it wasn't anything weird or anything.

Trouble is I'm sort of....kinda...(well....despite the fact that I was born here, and school here, and spend most of my time here now) I AM an international student. Meaning home is actually Nigeria. And I go back there in the holidays.

All of my life, we have spent christmas together as a family- IN NIGERIA (well....apart from the time we were in Spain and the time we were in Germany and the time we were in London and the time....oh bloody hell, I'll correct myself) Since about 1996, we have spent christmas together as a family. It's a TRADITION. Yes, of course there is no silly Santa, but my mum still puts up loads of presents under the tree in the middle of the night...and for the sake of my baby sister still growing up (...and of course for the benefits of MY presents), I don't want that to stop just yet.

Now suddenly, we go to church and it appears this tradition is nearing a thorny end. Just at the end of the service, the pastor suddenly announces that if we do not have a good enough reason, such as business we must attend to, to travel this December, then we had better not. He says there is going to be some sort of bloodshed. He says if you're going for some sort of celebration like our best friend's wedding, don't go. We have been warned!

I was a bit flabbergasted at first because I am rather afraid of flying (even though I do go on planes A LOT) and have been so afraid of turbulence since I lost many friends in a plane crash three years ago...IN DECEMBER.

But being the rather un-superstitious person I can be, I resigned myself to the fact that I will be going home this Christmas.

Trouble is, I've got two sisters here...one is a bit confused and the other says she's definitely not going!

Stupid thing to be so upset about, but I'm beginning to think the fam won't be together for Christmas this year..and from the on it will all start deteriorating... NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (*voice fades away)

P>S> If mon blog halts after December, do pray that I rest in Peace

Uh huh, I'm smart...I know Kabul is the capital of Afghanistan...*smirk*

Last night, my family went to see "Wicked".

It is a rather amazing show, we wanted to see it in Broadway whilst in New York a few days ago, but we couldn't get tickets. So, last night we were out and about in the West End.

Our seats were so high up by the way, I could practically touch the ceiling in the Apollo theatre....well to be honest they weren't that bad, but in the darkness I felt I was going to topple over the twenty eight million people seated in front of me to my death on the stage. Eventually I was able to settle down and enjoy the show....but that wasn't the best part of the night....

It was the taxi ride there.



My sisters and I went in one car, whilst my parents and everyone else went off in another. So it was just us girls...and a really weird taxi driver.



He started conversation telling us how he had never been to a theatre, expecting us to pity him. He said he'd only been to a cinema when he was younger and would be pleased to go if we invited him. We laughed. Than he asked us where we were from. We told him Nigeria. He said he was Jamaican....I mean this guy was like pure Middle Eastern with an unbelievably thick Middle Eastern accent, so I demanded to know where he really came from. After a while, he gave in and confessed that he was from Afghanistan. I thought a bit, and told him the capital. He exclaimed at my intelligence *smirk*



He went on to confess that when he was younger, he skipped school to go to the cinema. He talked about a million other weird facts, and by the time he had told us every minor fact about himself, he suddenly changed and attacked us.



He told us not to go to the theatre, EVER!! His whole life ethic was that all people should sit at home and watch TV and give their money to charity. We told him if everyone sat at home, how would he get taxi customers? He said he'd drive people going to the airport. Ha, the cheek of him. A flight ticket on average costs so much more than a theatre ticket! Wouldn't that be more money for charities? ...realizing his mistake, he changed his mind and said he'd drive people going to work and hospitals. He demanded that we order him to drive us back home!

We just sat back in the car after a while, hoping to see the theatre lights out soon. Alas, we saw them and he kept on driving...

After a slight battle, he eventually took us back to the theatre.

Needless to say, we took the bus back home.

Step into the darkness...

What could it possibly take from you to take another step, to walk- wisely and slow, for they stumble that run fast. What could you possibly lose?

The ground is beneath you; the rough, damp surface of the earth gritting its teeth beneath your feet...and an expanse of darkness lies before you. Like a wide-mouthed cave, it calls out to you, this darkness. It calls out, softly, calls you by your first name. A voice so familiar, yet so piercing. Sharp stainless steel lashes slice your skin with each ringing call. It draws you forward and yet, with the same force, it pulls you back.

You know not what is stretched out before you, clothed in this taunting darkness, walking in the manner of time.

What could it possibly take from you to move forward, just one more step into the future...

I think it's just dawned on me that I'm going back to school in less than a week.

I do love school, I enjoy most of my classes, I love all my friends, I love the whole boarding environment...but I don't want to go back. I honestly feel sick just writing about it now. If I'm already homesick before leaving home what is going to happen to me by the time I get to school?

When I go back, I'm likely not going to see my lovely baby sister for about three months.

On a brighter note, I did have the best holiday ever! Especially the trip to New York! The shopping was completely AMAZING! I wish Christmas would come round the corner quickly.

In the mean time, I'll just have to take this dreaded step into the daunting darkness. By the end of this academic year anyway, I'll be done with secondary school.

REEEEZZULTS!!!

As many people in the UK will know, it was results day two days ago!
And I am an A-Level student (AS level, actually) so I had reason to freak out.
Nevertheless, I got the results and I am eternally pleased!!!
FOUR A'S!! I couldn't have done better gradeswise, as I only do four subjects...but UMS-wise, I could. One of my UMS scores was sadly below 270/300, so I'm going to retake a unit or two. But nevertheless, straight A's sounds good in the ears, and I can still apply to Oxford whether or not I even get an interview.
One thing I can't help but think though, maybe all those journalists are right, maybe A-Levels are actually getting easier...

Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?

God must know what he's doing. He must know why stars fade and volcanoes erupt. He must understand- when all efforts are weighed down by failure, he must understand. He must know, he must understand, he just has to.

Maybe things are the way they are meant to be. Maybe these doubts and questions are a falter of mine. Do I dare and do I dare? Do I dare disturb the universe? Maybe if I could borrow the thoughts of T.S. Eliot for just one day, I might understand. I don't understand.

I don't understand pain.

And I don't understand the fear that comes with pain, and the tears- the amassing of pressures and griefs...I don't understand the sorrow. I have tried everything I can, but above all, I don't understand the pain that comes with death.

December 10th, 2005. God knows if I could bring that day back, I woul change everything. I would change it all, the way it all went. I'm not sure how but I would change it. I would disturb the universe. Somehow. If only.

I remember the day I had about a gazillion tests, homework to submit, projects to complete. School was hard, and I cried. I was tired and I couldn't take it anymore, plus there were pressures coming from all angles. We were walking to class that morning, the both of us, large hardcover notebooks in our hands. And I broke down. But she was there, and she helped me through it. If that should happen again, who would be there for me?

My best friend. I never did enough for you. That was why I had already planned ahead for your birthday. The birthday you would never have.

She woke me up that morning, just to say goodbye. I would have emailed her when I got home. I always wonder, did she know? Perhaps she dreamt about it the night before? Perhaps she felt it within her. Perhaps they all did. I wish I knew.

December 10 2005. Flight 1145 Sosoliso Airlines from Abuja, Nigeria to Port Harcourt crashed. On the plane were 61 students from my school. They were headed home for the christmas holidays. All but one student from my school on the flight were killed. I never saw my friend again.

Somehow, I never recovered.

Every time I run a race, I remember how we ran together. How she was so much better than me and how she pushed me to go on. I remember how happy we were when we won. How she told me, "I told you this was our race!" How we laughed at our nervousness. I want to cry.

Every time I write something new, I remember how she always read my work. How she commended and critiqued it all. I want her to read everything I write, I want her to be there. I want to cry.

Whenever I achieve something, I want to tell her. It was so much worth putting in so much effort just so she would rejoice with me. But she wasn't there when I passed those exams, she wasn't there when I won those awards, she wasn't there when I won those medals, she just wasn't there anymore. I want to cry.

And sometimes I feel so alone. I look around and it seems no one understands me the way she did. No one has been there for me the way she was.

A lot of the time, I wonder how it must have felt. How it must have felt to know that you're going to die. To be on that plane, scorched by the flames, frightened by the sounds, suffocated by the fumes. And she struggled, my friend, she did. She survived the actual crash, but died in the aftermath. In the end, there were only two survivors from the entire crash, and only one from my school.

Some people say people die only when the time is right. But she had so many dreams, so many hopes, so many plans for the future. She was only fifteen. They all had so many dreams, some of them were as young as nine or ten.

And I wish for that reason that I could change the past, just for that reason, to disturb the universe. Because it's hard, it's hard for us who were at school, it's hard for the parents and family and friends- one family lost all three children. And we always ask why these things happen, no one gives an answer, we keep questioning. I don't understand death, and I don't understand the pain it brings. God must know what He's doing, sometimes I'm forced to question, could he not have done it another way?

But I trust my God. Though he slay me, yet I will trust Him (job 13:15)

And I have not the strength to disturb the universe.

So I cry instead.

Er...it's actually like..it's um...not exactly poetry...

Apart from doing nothing in particular, one of my favourite pastimes is writing. It's quite fun and I enjoy it- especially poetry- trouble is, I'm not very good at it :( But anyways, when i can, i do mesh one or two words together and come up with a forest of litter that no one, not even I understands. However, I have been published...............in my school magazine......of which i was an editorial board member, anyway-----so that doesn't count really. To fulfill all righteousness anyway, I thought that as this was MY blog, in which I write what I want to write, it would be naked without a poem of mine. So I'm chucking this in out of nowhere...

It's kinda untitled -but also kinda called Stranger-
------------------------------------------

In your own dwelling,
A stark naked whale lurks
In the shadow of pins and needles,
Silently living off your every breath
In the comfort of your grey couch.
Your secrets are the black prints
On the front-page, lucid as the
Galago’s cries at midnight.
Your blood is running low
And you can’t tell why
Yet her teeth are blandly stained
With blood. You call her by

First name, awe at her deceitful smile,
Watch your life disintegrate to rotten crumbs,
Yet answers lie beneath the canopy of your own
Nose, concealed by the cloud of your breath.

Open your eyes to see beyond the greyscale
Of reality, betray the doctrines of charity,
Rid yourself of consuming diseases. I too have learnt
That battles of today will not be the battles of
Tomorrow, but if action is delayed, there will be no
Tomorrow.

The things I have been shown
If only you knew them as well,
But you are blinded by thick eyelids,
You still walk in the light,
In the blessed light,
But so does darkness.

The words of a dying man
Are always worshipped after death;
I pray I will not have to travel far
‘Ere you see the gravity of my tongue,
‘Ere you hear my blunt utters-

Madam, she has to go.

April, the cruellest month (Although technically we're in August)

Gah! T.S. Eliot was wrong! What was he thinking when he settled for April as the cruellest month. Really, had he like ever heard of August? To put it more simply, had he ever heard that results day was in August? People's fates and destinies (er...university-wise and career-wise ONLY) are decided in August. Let's calm down a bit now, mine isn't even until next year, but you couldn't possibly cut the tension in the hearts of 90% of UK gcse and a-level students with a knife. It's far too thick, you'd need like those huge machines with metal balls that are used to tear buildings down. It's a fortnight left now, 13 days to be honest. I'm freaked out by the thought and yet I just want it to come so we can all get over it!

August is even more cruel because Big Brother's coming to an end. It's eviction night today and EIGHT people are up. How do we even know who to vote out? It's just all a bit unfair, it is. Throw out Luke or Dale already, don't put everyone else through this grief.

August is also meant to be in the middle of summer- at least the beginning. It's the first of august and i could build a snowman outside! Alright, alright, it's a bogus hyperbole, but whaddahell, it's cold outside. It's not even raining there's just this chilly wind...or maybe because it's evening...i dunno, i woke up late.

I could go on and on but August is so filled with tiredness that I can barely type.
*Sigh* I can't wait for July next year.

...There's still a bright side to August though, I'm going to see my little sister in a few days (having not seen her for 7 months) and then my summer really begins!

But then August goes so quickly, and next up is back to school. Gawd, I should hate September (but I can't- I was born in September) so I hate August instead. Stupid month.

P>S> I thought it should be cool to announce that FYP ended yesterday, so regarding my earlier post that you should enter, its too late. Try next year :)

I got kicked off a bleeding train!

My trip to Oxford has to be the worst journey of my life...well, apart from a certain plane ride to Nigeria where we were accompanied by a manic deportee and a British Airways hostess who absolutely believed we couldn't speak English. So yes, that was my worst journey, but first i met the most AMAZING person today...well, not in person, but I met her anyway. And it's not hard to tell how great someone is from the way they write, so you'd better check her blog out for yourself-

http://littlethings-littleminds.blogspot.com/

She's absolutely lovely, and we have so much in common- the kind of person the world should be filled with basically. Normal people. And no offence if you're not normal :) a
nyway, I mentioned earlier that I would blog about my trip to Oxford and this is it. So, I was eating breakfast in school when I casually said, "I'd better hurry up before I miss my 8 o'clock train" Alas, all my friends were staring wide-eyed at me. "You're going to miss it!" someone finally exclaimed- so i left my meal and ran the whole 10 minutes to the station. Panting and ranting, I finally arrived a minute before the train was to leave. I got in, settled in, and then felt I needed a mirror to recompose myself before i arrived at the university looking like a wanker, so I went to the toilet. When I re-emerged I went to another seat only to realise my ticket was no longer in my hand (both my going + return). I didn't even think about going to the toilet, I just felt I had left it at my old seat- so I hurried there. There was a man seated in the chair, and a ticket jacket in front of him on the table. So I asked like the lovely, little, polite girl that I am if they were his tickets. He hesitated and finally said no. So I checked in the pack and saw the card that had my name and address. Relieved, I went to my seat and began to stare out of the window into the boring emptiness of the outside world.

I don't know what made me to but I decided to check my tickets again, and suddenly realised that they weren't in the jacket. The card with my name and address was, the receipt was and the seat reservation was- but the return tickets weren't! I calmed myself down and hurried to the man who had hesitated. To my dismay, it wasn't a man there anymore, it was two old women! God, my heart fell flat on the railway line. I didn't even remember how the hesitating man looked like! At least I still had my receipt and everything else, so I rushed to look for the train manager. I found him soon and explained my story, fully expecting some kind of compassion. Instead, he stuck his finger against his head to signal I was crazy and said, "You're so stupid, how can you put your going ticket and your return ticket in the same place?" In confusion, I burst into tears.

He told me to buy a new train ticket, which would have cost me like 40 pounds i think. I had the money, but I was just not ready to buy a new ticket, especially when he had just called me stupid. So I said I didn't have any money, I had only ten pounds on me and that was for my lunch (God forgive me for lying). He said I should pay with my card. I cried harder and lied that I didn't have a card, "I'm only a child!" I bawled. Actually, I was taller than him- okay no, I remember now, he was taaaall and huuuuge. He said he had never met anyone in his life who got on a train without money an a card. I told him he had met one now. He said, "Right, you're getting off at the next stop" I started crying again, I was already getting a little late for my open day, anyway. I dunno if he felt a minuscule ounce of pity then, but he asked me where I was supposed to get off.I told him I was supposed to change at Didcot Parkway for a train to Oxford. He smiled, "Right. You'll get off at Swindon, the stop before Didcot Parkway, and explain yourself there." Then he marched off. I was as distraught as a mashed up tomato.

I managed to dry my tears and pray the whole way to Swindon. I really expected some miracle to deliver me, but no, didn't happen that way. The train manager kept passing by after every stop to remind me to get off at Swindon. In a while, we got to Swindon and as soon as I saw the train manager approaching me, to avoid further disgrace, I jumped off the train myself. I tried to explain to another man there and cried as hard as I could, but he couldn't help. Sent me to the ticket office. To get to the ticket office, however, I needed a ticket to get through the machine thingy. A woman-guard was there and so I went over to her and handed her the ticket envelope. She opened it just as I was about to explain myself and said, "Love, your ticket isn't here." It completely annoyed me that I started crying again. She let me through, of course. Then I went and cried for the ticket woman too. She said I could use my ten pounds to buy a ticket back to Cheltenham. I cried harder. She said I could use it to buy an 8.50 ticket to Oxford but I'll be stuck there. Realising how late I was, I said I didn't mind being stuck there. So I got the ticket and went to Oxford.

I couldn't find my friends at first so I made new friends :) and had a tiring day, then I found my friends and told them the whole story and wanted to cry but had run out of tears. At the end of the day, I was stuck in Oxford and am presently there, working as a cleaner in the university.

Actually, I took the bus back to Cheltenham with my friends.

i LIKE it!!!!!!!

Whenever I think of deprived people, my heart wrenches. This is exactly why I don't want anyone to be deprived of watching this video below. Best video ever made!!!!


Amazing, isn't it? Just a taste of some fantastic Nigerian music (Nigeria, by the way, is a country in the West of Africa, quite a large country, with a population of over 150 million--- far far more than the UK, just to clarify an argument I once had with a friend :). )More to come soon!!!!

PUH-PUH-PUH-PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME!!!

oK, Ok, OK...i confess....i go to boarding school. I've been to boarding school since I was eleven...actually...please don't judge me because of it.
I went on an open day to Oxford, and this was the only thing on my mind when people asked me what school I go to. So I go to boarding school....why does that make people suddenly think I'm a stuck up, snobbish slut or something. I'm just like any other person here and I'm here to make friends and eat free lunch (...just as well as view the university grounds of course....oh, and listen to the lectures and stuff...) And that day had been a particularly horrid day for me, which is a story for another day, so I was really just looking for acceptance then.
Since I came to this country (oh gosh, I sound like such a tourist. I was BORN here actually, in London, and although I was bred in Nigeria, I came here like every year, so when I say came to this country, I mean started schooling here). Hmmm....too much digression...okay, when I started schooling in this country last year, it's been made quite clear to me that my school hasn't got the best of reputations around. Not only is it a private boarding independent school, its all girls. Yup. AllGirls. I'd never been to an all girls before though, so it's been quite an adventure, but all the same...
Anyway, because of the nature of my school, I have found that just naming the school gets me bad-ass-stares and eff-off-fingers, so...i started naming the town instead. There's other schools in the town of course. But these....these inquisitive Oxford wannabes couldn't settle for the town. "Oh really? Where in So-so-and-so town? What's the name of the school?" Their necks all crooned forward in wanting of my reply. I was taken aback. "The college, y'know" I bit my tongue and gum and lips. "I've heard there's two? Which one?" Oh eff-off, there you have it, I actually go to So-so-and-so. Now you can all just go on and judge me, yes, yes, slice me apart like a pineapple with your piercing glares of hatred (* and i hesitate to add, jealousy). Truth is, I went to a boarding school in Nigeria six years before coming here and I tell you that was hell of seeing the downsides of life (well, obviously depending on what school you go to), so as well as stepping into heaven, I have also stepped in torture. And no way am I a stuck up snobbish little lass.
People judge me for such stuff outside school, in school there's some other judging to do. It's like, "Hey, look at her, she's from Africa. How about asking her the name of her pet lion? How did she get here- by those ropes like in Tarzan, perhaps?" The answers are- there are huge airports in Nigeria and as much as I would have loved to, I've never seen a lion in blessed Nigeria. Guess why....because there's bleeding as many as are in the zoos or none! I've only been to zoos in Nigeria thrice, mainly because I'm not the greatest lover of zoos, and I can't recall seeing a lion. Someone actually asked me, when school first started, "When you're driving on the roads back home, do you, by any chance, see animals?" I look blankly back at her, "Er...no" She disagrees with me, "No....you do, you absolutely do." I think hard, it is my home, I'm the one there in the cars on the roads looking out the windows, "Well...sometimes you see birds in the sky...and if you're driving through villages (which is what you would call the country over here) you occasionally see chickens and goats." I reply.
No, she doesn't think so, "I mean animals like monkeys," she says. I reply, "Actually, that's a definite no." She still can't agree. She's smarter than me, this one. She knows where I live better than I do, daft idiot. "But my aunt and uncle live in South Africa and they see monkeys on the roads." she argues. That's clearly because, you freaking stupid cow, they were perhaps on safari in South Africa whereas I, I live in WEST Africa and in case you haven't checked, Africa is a BIG BIG continent, NOT A COUNTRY- A CONTINENT! And in my country, animals like elephants and lions are too much of a rarity for us to even have safaris. And guess what we've got that you haven't got, we've got the SUN, tons and tons of it. Plus, we don't even NEED it that much because we come NATURALLY TANNED :P
Another certain person in my school asked me "Foma, now that you've seen this country and all," (take note I saw this country before her as I was born here and I'm two months older than her), "where do you want to live when you grow up?" I'm like, "Nigeria. DEFINITELY Nigeria" She's all like "why?" I actually want to tell her, "Because there's no fools like you over there" but I refrain from doing so. I tell her its mainly because the luxuries we get in Nigeria, cooks, stewards, nannies, drivers, gate-men (the people who open the gates into your compound when you're driving or walking in- as a matter of fact we hardly ever walk), security guards, lovely airconditioners in almost every home for when its too hot, beaches all year round, our own celebrities plus international celebrities visiting regularly, our own movie industry, Nollywood, rated 3rd in the world after Hollywood and Bollywood......all these luxuries and more, are just too much. Plus, a 2003 survey classified it the happiest country in the world. I couldn't possibly choose elsewhere. She still couldn't understand. She's one of those people who think that the average home in Nigeria doesn't have at least one computer with internet connection and two televisions. I don't really count such things anymore.
Once I discussed this with a friend of mine and she was all like, "but so so and so percentage of people in Nigeria live on 1 pound a day". As a matter of fact, you ignorant fly, 1 pound is equivalent to 250 naira (Nigerian money) which can buy you three balanced meals at the price of 30 naira each from roadside stalls, and can buy you an outfit and shoes from New Market,. Let's just say everyone in Nigeria bought food and a full outfit every day of the bleeding year.
AAARGH! You know what, I absolutely hate people judging me because of my school, but next time someone tries to, I'll be forced to shout, "Don't Judge me!! I have friends at school- Judge them! Judge them! Obliterate them from the face of earth, in fact!"

Actually...THEY DON"T CARE ABOUT YOU!!!

I wish people around me would be just a little less self-absorbed. It's either their talking about themselves all the time, or have fallen in a well of love for theirselves, or they suddenly think everyone's their greatest fan. And I mean EVERYONE.
I have a friend, and don't get me wrong she's absolutely lovely and fun, but...lately...she's acting really weird. Somehow, she's got some screws and cords up there that have twisted her into thinking the whole world's in love with her. I've noticed it for a while now, but I just didn't say much about it. Everywhere we go she's always like, "That guy's looking at me!"
We went for a concert last week and when James Blunt took out his camera to take a picture of us, the audience, she actually believed that from 7 seas and 7 mountains away on the stage, he was looking directly at her. Maybe he was...I dunno...if he's got like extreme high-powered-telescopic-housefly-vision.
On our way home we stopped at a shop and she was paying with her card, a Solo card to be precise. This nice middle aged guy was at the counter and decided to have a little laugh with us. He saw the Solo card and joked saying, "So, are you single then?" This silly friend of mine looked at him as if he was made, and turned to me, hissing, to say, "Stupid Old Guy, trying to ask me out" I'm like, "He really wasn't, he was just joking with you." But she can't even see that!
I hope I got the message across to her when I said, "Oh woah! Look at that! That fly is checking you out!"

Don't Hate 'Coz You Can't Do It

FYP-It's something i discovered not too long ago. It means the Foyle Young Poets, for talented peeps between the ages of 11 and 17, so all you great talents, you'd better get entering before the 31st July (a date I chose to type in there because it is....deep breaths....THE DEADLINE! Who would've guessed).

Particularly, I want every great poet to enter because I know someone who's entering. Actually, I don't know the person- but I stumbled across this blog today, no names mentioned, where some person was actually slighting last years winner. This certain unnamed person(who I shall keep struggling to refrain from naming) and her friends actually posted two of last years poems on their blog and stated they wouldn't have to do much work to win because, and I quote, "That won" I was so gutted by their pride and inability to see beyond their shallow poems that sound as though they all swallowed thesauruses and spat them out whole. Some of the poems were definitely commendable, but others, I was just like, "Are you really saying that this compares to Annie Katschinka's Crash or Erica Berry's Romeo and Juliet?" And although I have to confess to myself that a couple of their poems were good, I wouldn't want them to win after reading their pompous comments. All of you out there, there's a few days left, so head on to the fyp website, i'm honestly not sure what it is but google it, and enter the comp with whatever you got.

But please don't enter extremely amazing poems as I myself am praying to be at least in the final 100.

Hurrah for past FYP winners, and "Boo!" to big fat haters out there!

!!?!?!??!THat's NOT mY NAme??!??!?!!!!

I think names are a waste of time- people hardly ever get them right, anyway. If your name's Michelle some people will call you Mitchell, and if its Joan there's a likely chance you'll be renamed Joanne. Some people don't even get the right number of syllables, think of the Ting Tings song 'That's not my name'- someone would actually mistake a person called "Kate" for "Mary-Joe-Lisa". Unbelievable.

I think we should all just be called by numbers- we couldn't possibly run out of them. Everyone would have their own numbers and there would never be the problem of seven or eight heads turning when someone calls "Alice!" When someone dies, their number could simply be reassigned. And even if your number turns out to be Eighty six billion nine hundred and twenty two, it wouldn't be as long as some African names. Honestly, I had a friend called Adetitiobioluwa and I thought he was bad until I met Oghenenyerhovwo-Oyibonanarhoro. He could hardly even say his own name without the sun rising and setting four times. Thus numbers should be used to refer to people and everyone would pronounce them right.

On that note, its about time I introduced myself. My name's Foma. Of course it's hardly my name, and if I had a choice I would be Five Hundred and Eighty, but for formality's sake I'm Foma, and I wish you luck in pronouncing it right.

Enjoy the video!

I...I.......I sped ROUND the corner!

We don't have time. We don't have enough time. Why are we watering the plants? We will never have time. There's a time for everything. A time to be born, a time to die, a time for nothing.

We've been in this car for hours on end, driving, slowly. We've been staring out this same window into the emptiness on the outside, the lifeless green bushes passing by, passing, slowly, slower, slow...slow. Are we there yet? This road ahead is endless and amoebic, we turn so often our heads hurt, pounding against the rocks of our craniums. Each tasking breath we let go of, each we take in...out...in...out...in...out...in...STOP! We forget to breathe as we swerve the sharp corner, the wheels scream like excited girls. Are we there yet? There is a pothole as large as a beer belly. We sink into it and instantly take off like an airplane, into the dusty air. We've never done this before. Are we there yet? We cough loudly, the sand is in our ears. Are we dead yet?

There is a battered, green billboard on the side of the road. We clean the specks off our specs to read it, but someone else reads it first. We're too late. Always late. Always too late.

"Welcome," they read, "to the beginning of a long journey."