Fope's Blog

I had this idea to write what I'd like to have experienced by the end of 2017 now. They're not quite detailed goals for the year, but rather, some overall themes to hold myself to in the months to come. So here I am, actually sticking to one of the many things I've resolved to do this year: turning more ideas into actions. I remember 2016 in two parts: the first was January to March - incredibly strange periods of my life, lots of acting out of character; then the other part was October to December - trying to stuff in a year's worth of personal achievements into the last few moments. I don't really remember much of the middle. So in 2017, there'll be a lot of this - writing. Not just in a journal tucked away somewhere safe, but here too, out in the world for the days when I can't remember the meaning of all the code messages I've embedded in my journal for secrecy sake (ironic right? I too cannot deal with myself sometimes). There'll also be

Source: http://blue-ink-pearls.tumblr.com/ I stood at your grave today and watched all these people decorate it with most sensational of flowers. Yours was easily the prettiest spot in the whole yard...not that that was a price anyone would crave. Someone must have heard you talk about daffodils at the hospital because the entire hospital crew brought those. Even now, I can hear you joking about the lucky hell-bound fellow who got to sell all of it. When six months became a year, two, and then four, we figured you'd beat the big C. You made it your thing to remind us that science and yourself, the only big C, were the ones involved in your miraculous survival. I still feel the same way about life and time as I did when you were here Cariole. And I know you would have asked why my all-powerful C had His hands folded while your routine check-up became a "cancer come back". I still don't have all the answers. For your sake, I really wish I did. But I&#

Zero is infinity... with a twist. No thing is everything... because now there's nothing at stake. Emptiness is fullness... because now there's room to be filled. Zero is infinity...when an arm twirls it at the right angle, when the mind sees the emptiness as endless possibilities, when you realize that you don't even have a box to think in, you see how much thinking room there is outside the box. So honey, think, there's no box. Just think. The possibilities are endless.

It's interesting to experience how trainable the mind is.  You know you hear all these things about not knowing how strong you are until being strong is the only option there is. Yeah, where was I going with that? I can't remember. I've spent the past 10weeks trying to figure out if I can figure out whether the mind is the brain, the brain is the mind, the mind and brain are one, the mind is a product of the brain, the mind is an organization board for the brain and a few other mind-brain twisted relationships. No I don't just sit around doing that, it's for a class I'm taking (I'm a psychology student). But yeah tonight I'm staring at my laptop and thinking I have to write something before I go to bed that's not a cheesy love story. Because I don't think I could think up anything that wouldn't be a dub of a Bella-Naija love story.  So yeah it's amazing what the mind can do if you would just train it to. With food, it's b

Some days I want to sit here and blog about how much I should be loving God and all. It's one of those days. Days when all the human diaries I have would only have half assed "aww...pele(s)" to offer. So I'm just here trying not diaritize the blog and focus on all that's going right. She had  has Instead of her regular Friday reminders, Today she remembers  W e looked down on him, thought he was scum. But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—  our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us. We thought he brought it on himself,  that God was punishing him for his own failures. But it was our sins that did that to him,  that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins! He took the punishment, and that made us whole.     Through his bruises we get healed. We’re all like sheep who’ve wandered off and gotten lost.     We’ve all done our own thing, gone our own way. And  God  has piled all our sins, everything we’ve done wrong,  on him, on

Crying feels like the right thing to do It just does. I'm not sure if they would be tears of joy or the sad kind For a thing that once was or for one that will never be But all the same I want to cry Then I think of tomorrow and how my eyes would be red and puffy. And how nosy Nora will pry till I'm forced to lie again. I want to cry long slow tears. The slow free kind that cat-roll down one's cheeks because they are not coerced by events that have occurred but by mere thoughts. 'Mere' makes it sound meager, but it's not. There isn't much worse than uncertainty I tell you (well there's the lack of options) But uncertainty is a pig. A big fat pig rolling around in one's mind. Rolling around doing it's haphazard dance because of what could either have been a satisfying meal or one that it knows will constipate it. But then until the dance ceases, you'll be left to wonder. And even when I know crying won't solve anything,

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

Blink. Yes you.  Blink. Someone just died. Blink again, yes you again. Another person just died. Actually a few people just died and more will still die. Guess what? You too will die. Oh it's getting creepy and you're about to close this tab. But you'll soon die too. Today, tomorrow, in a decade, a century... or however long you make it till. But you will die eventually. You know what's even more saddening? They'll mourn you for two seconds and forget you. Two seconds might be an hour of crying, or a week of hunger, or year without a replacement wife. But they'll mourn you for two seconds and forget you. And the following year they'll remember you. If you were anything fancy, they'll be quiet for a moment to say that your life was that short. Or that that's how long they can spend thinking of you before the sad thoughts of you mess up their busy lives. But that will happen. As quickly as you blinked you'll be forgotten. So