I absolutely love finding new songs. My friend shared this song with me a week ago and I love the old school vibe. Lemme know what you think!
Alright folks, I’ve never heard this one before, have you?
A nuh ebryting soak up wata a sponge
Literal translation: Not everything that soaks up water is a sponge.
Apparently it means appearances are deceiving so think wisely before making decisions.
That’s what you needed to hear today!
Who are you to make me feel this way?
So caught up on all of the things that you say.
With your sweet lies
Playing the fool to catch the wise.
But are you playing?
I’m just saying, because you must be pretty dumb,
To just come,
And mess up everything I had right.
maybe it’s me?
As far as I can see
I didn’t put up enough boundaries.
Didn’t fight with all my might.
How could I?
I didn’t stand a chance
What do you want from me?
Can you be trusted?
My brain and heart are conflicted.
If the heart listened to the brain
There would be love without pain
And if the heart had its way
It would have lots to say,
on all of the reasons not to let you stray.
Here are five ways to steal my heart.
1) Challenge me. I like someone who can pick my brain and prove me wrong. A mini pet peeve of mine is when someone lets me win. I am unnecessarily competitive and I think that someone who challenges me is helping me to become better at whatever task is at hand.
2) Understand me. I am an only child. I grew up learning how to entertain myself and I’ve learned to appreciate alone time as a result. I love going out with friends, but sometimes all I want to do is stay in a room by myself and do whatever I want.
3) Feed me. I’m not joking. Give me food, and I’ll love you forever.
4) Cuddle with me. I wouldn’t say I’m a touchy feely person but I do fancy random hugs. I don’t mean those awkward side hugs; I like the close, warm, I-haven’t-seen-you-in-forever hugs
5) Talk to me. I love deep conversations. We could be talking about the colour of the sky or who invented the television, whatever it is, simple or complex I love thought provoking conversations.
As you can see, I’m really not that hard to woo, I promise.
I’m finding in my old age (says the 21 year old) that I’m becoming increasingly better at holding conversations. A great conversation skill is being able to state your point, defend it, acknowledge that people have different opinions and respect opposing opinions.
I like a good debate. It keeps me on my toes and provides great mental exercise.
Picture for a moment a game of tennis. It would be a boring if your opponent refused to serve the ball because they didn’t feel like playing. Imagine them purposefully wacking the ball into the net to cut the game short. What if they deliberately hit the ball outside of the lines so you win?
Annoyed? Well, it’s the same way with a conversation. Stop changing the topic by saying you don’t want to argue. Don’t stop in the middle or agree with the other person just because you want the conversation to end. A disagreement is not an argument. How is your conversation partner supposed to know what you’re thinking if you keep quiet?
One of the things wrong with the world is that we don’t say what we want to say for the sake of peace and sanity. What we don’t realise is that when we bottle these things up they slowly eat away at us and that is what we should be avoiding .
I’ll leave you with these words of wisdom, Always say what’s on your mind, and don’t beat around the bush #StopBushAbuse2017.
Kids can be so cruel! I was reflecting on my childhood years the other day and one experience stood out in my memories.
Every summer my parents sent me to some summer camp or the other to keep me occupied for a few hours in the day. When I was seven they sent me to Achiever’s Summer Camp. My first day there I realised two students from my school, Boy and Girl, were there as well. I knew no one else. Well, my seven year old self was incredibly shy so I clung to those two people until the instructor assigned seats and separated us.
We were eventually reunited and I continued talking to Boy, who was one of my best friends at school. During the lunch break, I tried as hard as I could to make friends, but no one would talk to me and I couldn’t figure out why. I wasn’t too bothered because I still had Boy and Girl, but unfortunately, they only stayed for the first two weeks of the four week program. Fake friends!
The third week I was alone and the other kids still would not talk to me. I was eventually informed that when the teacher separated Boy, Girl and I on the first day, Evil Girl (this is the actual name on her birth certificate) declared that Boy was her boyfriend. When Boy and I were reunited, she came to the conclusion that I had stolen him from her. She then made it her life’s mission to tell all the other children in our class not to speak with me because I was a boyfriend stealer.
Looking back, I’m curious as to what an 8 year old knew about boyfriend stealing. I know what you’re saying, maybe she was joking. Right? I can assure you she was not. Four years later our paths crossed again and I kid you not, she still called me a boyfriend stealer.
This was definitely one of the strangest experiences on my life. In case you are wondering, I am not a boyfriend stealer!
Today I’ll be returning to my Yaad (Jamaica). I love being in airports but this wasn’t always the case. I felt it was only fitting that I shared the traumatic story of my first time being at the airport. I wrote the story a year ago for my public speaking class. Enjoy!
Crisp white socks; folded neatly at the ankles. Shiny black shoes. A denim dress that flared at the waist with a rounded lapel. My mother completed the look by putting my hair in four evenly parted braids. There wasn’t a crease in sight or a hair out of place. I was ready. I was 1½ years and I was ready for my first trip by airplane.
While my mother and father juggled two suitcases and my diaper bag, my lone responsibility was to guard my stuffed kitten. This was no ordinary kitten. Pink fur, a white under belly and a long white string, courtesy of my grandmother, for a leash. After a 30 minute journey, we arrived at the airport. Mommy kissed daddy goodbye. He then kissed me on both cheeks and gently clunked our foreheads together so I wouldn’t feel left out. It was just mommy, me and my kitty now.
Despite what my mother would say, I was a well behaved baby. I walked beside her in silence taking in the hustle and bustle of the airport. This was probably my first introduction to the concept of “waiting in line”. That’s the thing with airports; lots of opportunities to wait in line. We had to queue to check in our luggage, then we had to queue for the security check.
We waited and waited until it was finally our turn. Mommy lifted her carry on and my diaper bag onto the conveyer belt. While mommy balanced monitoring her bags and conversing with security, some woman snatched my kitty. My jaw dropped as I tried to process what happened. I looked to my mother, waiting for her to defend me but she was busy with the bags. I had to take matters into my own hands.
In one swift motion, I dropped to the ground with a splat. I simultaneously kicked my feet, exposing Huggies underneath so they knew I meant business. I kicked and rolled to the right and I kicked and rolled to the left. They still hadn’t returned my kitty. I added a new move to my tantrum combo. I hollered. I had a pair of lungs and I knew how to use them. The entire airport waited with baited breath for my stuffed animal to be returned.
The conveyer belt had swallowed my kitten and was taking its own sweet time with the digestion process. I was kicking and rolling and screaming at the top of my lungs. My mother was frozen in shock and appreciative of the sympathetic looks she was receiving. The poor attendants ran from my mother to myself then the conveyer belt, unsure of what to do next.
The scanner finally spat out my kitty and the security personnel passed it around like a game of hot potato to get it back to me as quickly as possible. The same woman who had taken my toy returned it and apologized profusely. I stopped my tantrum mid-roll, got up and took it from her. Wearing one shoe, I hopped passed my mother. She scrambled to retrieve my other shoe and any other article of clothing I might have dislodged in my fit.I didn’t know where I was going but I knew it was away from catnappers, stuffed toy eating machines and baffled onlookers. My mother chased behind me and swiftly pulled the back of my dress down to cover my diaper.
Despite what my mother would say, I was a well behaved baby… unless provoked.