Fope's Blog

Yesterday, I promised to finish the story from  Day 2 , so I did that first. So here it is: _______________________________________________________________________ Today wasn't any different from all other Saturdays. My son and I were going grocery shopping and he wanted to sit on my shoulders. I thought more of it as weighted cardio than risky behaviour since it was something we'd done before. Plus we lived on the third floor; it wasn't supposed to be a long trip down. Somewhere between focusing on keeping him balanced on my shoulders and teaching him to say "ma-ma", I missed the snow puddle on the step and slipped. We slipped. Both of us had this fall. I didn't just throw him down the stairs. Why would anyone even think that? I think I should have said "we slipped" right from the first time I told the story rather than I slipped. But the social worker assigned to me didn't believe it. Neither did Mark-  my best friend turned sperm don

It should have been my take a break day, but my mind doesn't take breaks. Like never. Not even during exams, when all my attention should be focused on recalling all things I've read. So here's a story I thought of on my super long bus ride to Bayshore: ________________________________________________________________________ I was two months into my resolution to take the stairs no matter how high the floor I was headed was. On my son's first birthday, I'd taken the extra moments to look pretty since I knew the day would be photo filled. While deciding what dress was mumily yet sexy enough for the day I realized how far I still was from my pre-pregnancy body. And so I decided to get active all around. My occasional gym visits weren't yielding quick enough results, so I added the stairs and this thing called "clean-eating". Today wasn't any different from all other Saturdays, my son and I were going grocery shopping and he wanted to si

I honestly need to stop ruining my earphones. I think this is about the 10th pair  to get ruined this year. This time I slept and woke up and it became the manual kind that had to be held at the connection point to get both ears to function. Urgh! It doesn't have anything to do with today's blogpost, but that's how I like to write- with earphones plugged in, playing an old song that I listen to a tad too often. I don't really have a writing project for my blog, but I have one for something else that I'd rather not bore you with. So let's stick with writers blogging about writing. I'd say it's not my style- writing about writing- what I think aims at making others better writers. I'm of the "please just write something I'd like to read" opinion. I guess there are some people who write so well that they get asked to write about writing. But I'm not quite there yet. What I think about writing about writing is that it's kind

Hey Guys! I found this blogging challenge on hunterswritings.wordpress.com. It has technically passed, but I'm doing it anyway. Being 'forced' to write, in the past, has worked both for and against my writing self. But this time, I'm excited about it. I think it'll help me to (finally) get onto my holiday blogging plan- which was the vague old "blog more". Hope you guys are having a lovely holiday season?! Like salvation wasn't enough of a gift, He had to give us days off school and work too! Thank you Jesus! The other thing is that I have a twitter account for my blog to get more people to see what I post (using the hashtag feature). It also makes it easy to follow other bloggers, and creates more room for some  feedback.  So yeah it's @4pceesblogspot , please check it out and follow me!Thanks! Also, I'm part of the brains behind a Facebook page that encourages creative writing. You know how there are a gazillion pages encouragi

Source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Crimson_sunset.jpg The handle of the holy of holies broke today. It was one of the only things that had remained unchanged after the war. We had been so grateful for that one constant. Something we could tell our children of without fearing that their imaginations would ruin the sacred details that were sure to be lost in our description of things. Something we could both tell them of and show to them. I remember waiting for my passage ceremony;   the event where all those who just became 'of age' were welcomed into adulthood. In preparation for this event, Papa Idoha spent three hours every two months in the year preceding it describing to us what he said his grandfather had also described to him. Deep down, we all felt the story had to have been tainted as it passed from generation to generation. A little salt here and there, until all that was left to taste was the salt. But we consoled ourselves with the t

Here's a nice song to play while you read today's post. I couldn't figure out how to add music to the blog, so if someone wants to lend me a hand, I'd be really grateful! Siji- Yearning for Home. _________________________________________________________________ For the past week I've been yearning for home, at least I've had this thing that feels like that. I haven't been home in over three years. I've seen my family, but I haven't been home. Whenever I meet non- Nigerians and they drop the usual conversation starters: "Oh you speak such good English, where are you from? Did you grow up here? Oh you must miss home". I normally would  say "I don't miss home, I was away from home for most of my teenage years so I'm used to being alone" or a variant of that. I don't know how true that is anymore and I really don't know what I now miss. First of all, I was an over sheltered kid. This means that the most I ever saw