Paying the Price

Paying the price.  Well, for anything that deserves a price really.  Anything that counts.  Anything that needs sacrificing.  Anything that needs your time, money, relationships, family, friends, norms and even beliefs.  Not to mention your many, many days,  weeks, months and for the most part, your years.

Paying the price, especially when you're spending years, changes you a lot.  And I mean, literally, A LOT.  Much much more than you can ever comprehend.  People you're close to notice numerous changes about you.  Some so intense they cannot take it.  Some, thankfully, inspiring to many that they want what you have.

These changes come with your choices, and they can and do affect the way people think of you.  Not that one should be thinking about what other people think of them.  But, sure, we all do that.  At some point, we do.  And at times we have to.  Especially when we want to appeal to the wider audience.

Paying the price.  I have actually thought about it.  From time to time.  Oh believe me I do.  Not that I am doing anything about it.  Well I am, of course, cos that would be the only reason I am where I am.  Right?  But I have been so one-sided these past years.  Not thinking about other people.  Not taking into account the consequences that life brings when you actually do pay for the price of something.

For instance, I lost my beloved grandma without saying good bye.  My Mami Olo.

She knew better.  And maybe she knew better than to tell me how me and her were going to say good bye.  How it will come about.  That sadness had had a grip on me ever since, and even to this very day, I don't know if I will ever really come to terms with the whole turning of events that led to her passing.  I actually told her: '2 years mami olo, 2 years.'  She said okay.  She believed me.  She waited.  And when I didn't show up at the end of 2 years, she passed, just 2 months after the appointed time.  October 2014.  I still have that huge heavy ball of lump whenever I think of it.

It's the price I'm paying, still paying now, and countless others with it.

For what it's worth, I dedicated my Masters Thesis to Mami Olo.  She will never read it.  She will never know.

To add to that, I'm paying the price for a whole lot of other things, of course.  Like I wholly believe that if I was back home, I'd already be married.  It'd be much easier to find someone back home than overseas in an isolated institute with only lab mates, classmates and international friends.  Only.  Geez,  I could create a whole new post on this topic.  Just not yet.  My life is mostly an open book already with this blog thing.  My choice.  I'm cool with the way it is.  Not that people would wanna read it.

I generally like the way things are turning out though.  It's just that sometimes, at times, I'm reminded of how I'm paying for the price.  And then I get saddened by a lot of things.

I'm gonna have to close by saying God surely works in mysterious ways.  I'm always trusting him for everything.  Even if I'm regularly seeing things and circumstances as being 'me paying the price'.  Yeah I guess that's just me.  No I don't see me as 'missing out' on life back home.  No I don't.  My life here is just too good for those kinds of thoughts.

I will continue to press on.  Continue to pay the price.  Till my time here is done and I can go back to be in the beautiful Happy Isles again.

I guess I'm generally not only looking forward to good stuff.  I am living the good stuff.  Paying the price, and paying it well.

I have decided, haven't I?  That if it's gonna be big, then I'm gonna have to pay big for it.  And if it's gonna be huge, then...

I think you get the picture.

Love, Ny.

The Mood Rant

The mood.

'The' mood.

I'm talking about THE mood.

On overall, I'm generally an easy going, slowly living, slow leaving, slow learning, easy seeing, and easy loving, too, I suppose.

Ok now, the previous list is when I'm not doing work.  So now, on to work, whether it be in school or at work.

I'm, not so surprisingly, but as opposed to be being easy as I have always thought I am, I'm radical and quick, fast, brisk and swift when I am doing work.  Even at home, cleaning up, or doing laundry, cooking or washing up.  It always has to be fast, because the finished job could just be minutes away.  So why not get to it fast.  That's the whole idea.

Now back to THE mood.

I realized, that I make myself sad.  Most times.  Or maybe I attract sad moods.  So generally, I am just a sad, more to the gloomy, moody, head down, this-life-is-dark-and-cloudy type of mood.  It comes out in the songs I write, the tunes, the poems and the writings.

No wonder I'm too lively when with friends.  No wonder I'm always jumping at the thought of being together where there is noise.  No wonder I love to tease.  No wonder when I'm happy I'm so happy.  No wonder when I get to start talking, I do it nonstop.  Sometimes I go over the top with talking, laughing, having fun.  Cos I know the sad and gloomy would creep in again.  And the cycle would start again.

Easy going?  Some friends of mine actually told me I am easy going.  Huh!  I laugh at the idea.  Cos inside of me is a lion waiting for its prey.  Okay, a tiger maybe, cos I admire tiger spots.  I liken myself to the skin of a tiger.  Not the face.  No thank you.  I'd rather be a parrot.  Or a pigeon even.  Geese.  Geese that fly.  Dat be me.

The mood in me.

I'm always conscious of how consciously I express the mood I'm in.  If I'm quiet I'll be conscious that people will notice.  If I'm noisy I'm definite people will comment on it.  And I'm usually right too.  I'm far from being the life of the party when I'm noisy though.  Cos I'd just be annoying.  Or I'd run out of things to say.

So let's just say my mood rant is mostly about the sad and happy me.

What about the angry me?  Hhmmmm... Ok now about that part?  I think it's safe that we don't go there for now.  Let it be in another post so I could decorate it nicely with unthreatening and don't-worry-you-will-still-love-me-after-this-post words of assurance.

Ranting for today stops here.  I hope it's shorter than a normal rant.  I'm pretty sure it is.

Love, Ny.

It sucks. Love, Ny.

Feeling so bad today.  So bad it hurts.  It pains.  It sucks.

It really does suck to have someone not tell you anything then just cut you off like that.

Sometimes I think that if someone treated you badly, they would also do it to the next person.  Because that's just how they are.  Then other times I just blame myself for not knowing what to do and how to respond in the right way to situations that come up.

Sometimes I think I'm better off.  Then other times I just wish I have that someone back in my life.  And not just in my mind every single day and night.

I'm taking my time.  Even if at times I just get tired and just wanna scream him out of my system.

Yes.  Him.

I feel bad that it's just sad.

I'm still gonna close today with love in my heart though.

Love, Ny.

Too up on yourself.

What?

You think that after I turned down your offer for 'some activity' that I'd be waking up every morning saying 'I wish I'd see him today' or 'I wish I'd run into him (again) today'.  Can't you even figure it out for yourself?

Yes it does bug me.  It bugs me how boys (not men) think girls would just go after them like that.  Of course you have features that I'd lay in bed dreaming of, picturing how we could be a couple, imagining how I'd love and care for you and make every moment count while we're here in this isolated-god-forsaken-most times very lonely place.  Of course I could be really weak, be swept off my feet and into your arms knowing very well you have your significant other waiting at home.  But OF COURSE I'm not that stupid.  I could be crazy, but for other things.  Not this one. Nah.  Hail No!

Yes you are just too up on your self.  And yes I could go on and on venting and letting it out here so I can get your arrogance that's now rubbing off on me out of my system.  But I only have time for my paper.  So we'll bring this to a close.  Maybe to a closure.

You see, I see you almost everyday.  Yes our paths seem to be crisscrossing every other day.  But this is my space too.  And for the record, I was here first.  I occupy this damn space and you should make damn sure you mind your own damn business like I am making damn sure I damn am.

Stalking you?  It surely is the other way around if there is any stalking involved here.  Get over yourself Mr Handsome Afro.

I am obsessed.  Yes.  Stupid.  Crazy, and in love.  Just not for you thank you very much.

We still friends though.  So expect more of me around.  You can even invite me over for lunch or dinner outside at 7-11.  We can hang out while your gf hangs on your shoulder and you try to make undistracted conversations with me till your she pulls you away with that 'he's-mine-don't-touch' body language.  Or even better, I can invite the two of you over and I'll cook, the girls will bake some cakes and we'll have movie night with pop corn, snacks and ice cream and finish off with some vodka lime, wine and beer afterwards.

I'm over this.

Love, Ny.

A double hint from Mum.

Just got a text from Mum.  Her and Dad are missing Baby Lianga who went back to be with his parents.

Thanks Mum for the hint hint.  I get it now.  I'm in my child-bearing years.  I need to be bearing children already.  If not for me then for the grandparents.  And of course I'd love myself some kids already by now.  

This is tough.  Such a tough position to be in.  

Such a huge double hint from Mum.  I miss them now.  But when I'm gonna bear children?  That's a huge question to answer.  Only God knows.

Kids are so precious, lovable, cute, cuddly, provide companionship, pure, innocent and just the perfect gift of life.  Especially for grandparents like Mum and Dad.  Faithful, caring and very loving grandparents.

We'll wrap this up before we start to think, talk, think, write and think too much again.

Love, Ny.

Talk. Talk. Talk.

So sick of it.  Sick and tired of all of it.  All I hear is talk, talk, talk and more talk.

I listen too much into everything.  Absorb too much of whatever is said to me, whatever I listen to.  When it's good it's too good that it's bad.  When it's great it's too great that I go out of control for not handling it the correct way.  Why does it seem that  there's always already a rule to every new  path.  Rules I never seem to follow.  Why don't things just happen because they do.  Why isn't the universe never flexible.  Just enough flexibility would be fine.  Why do the stars run away from me when it comes their time to take up responsibility and guide me through certain spots.

Talk.

I react to it with restlessness, fear and most times even dread.  I also react to it with high expectations.  Too high.  That's when talk becomes too much.  Because when it's too much I spend days on end thinking about everything that amounts to nothing.

Talk.

Where does it come from?  From everyone around me to the very mind that controls my being every single moment of my breathing.  Myself.

I'm sick.  Truly sick of listening and listening to every single thing.  Sick of allowing myself to be bombarded with every sound of it.

Talk.

I bet everyone around me is tired of me too.  All I do lately is talk, talk and talk.  Even in my silence.  Which a lot of people have described as being louder than making sound itself.

Talk.

It seems that the feeling everywhere is mutual.

Let's stop here.

Love, Ny.

To not read what I myself write

I'm so lazy, like literally, lazy, and have that 'I don't have time for this-don't wanna be bothered-please take me away' kinda feeling when it comes to proof-reading my own work.

I wish I didn't have to do any of it.  I don't like to.  I DON'T WANT TO!  I wish I didn't need to.  I wish I don't need to at all in the future.  In any of my future.

I need a secretary.  I know it's too soon for that.  I'm a poor PhD student.  My scholarship provides for my dorm, tuition and credit fees.  Only.  I don't have any part-time jobs whatsoever.  No allowance.

But I really need a proof-reader to read my every work.  I meant a Paid Proofreader.  One that I can boss around.  My daily work in writing needs to be re-read and corrected.  I wish I could just write through any writing once.  Whether it be a blog like this one, a manuscript for a journal, or even just course work essays or experiments write ups.

I need someone, some people, some willing anyone, to proofread everything for me.  PROOF READ FOR ME.  See that?

Good.

Come to think of it, it's funny.  Just so funny that I always have to wait to be in the 'right mood' to write something, study, read, proof-read something.  Anything.

Maybe I should wait for the 'right mood' to be in before I start my PhD.

Funny.

So much for all these PhD preparations and plans.

I have nothing more to say right now.

Bye.

Ny.