Tales of woes and sad endings.

I had a sorta difficult time coming up with a title for this post. As I type these first few lines, there is no title. So, it’s 4a.m. and I’m wide awake.For me, this is normal. Dunno why, but I have a hard time sleeping before 6a.m. I chalk it up to my unemployed state. I mean, if I had a job, would I stay up through the night when I had to be useful in the morning? Probably not. As it is now though, I am useless in the mornings to everyone, including and especially myself. And so, I spend my mornings asleep. In fact, as I type this, the birds are already singing, and I haven’t slept o! *sigh* Such a life I lead.
I had a really shitty weekend (thanks for asking). I’m going to go a bit personal, so if you’re not comfortable with reading about PMS and the “time of the month” you should probably stop here.

There are two events I need to tell you about first and then, I’ll tell you how they tie up…
So, Kirk Franklin was in Toronto on Saturday. I have had been preparing for this concert for like 3 weeks. I listened to his new album (by the way, you should check it out, it’s titled Hello Fear and I loved it), I practiced my dance moves, memorized the songs, and basically did everything you would do to get the best out of a concert. I was sooo stoked!!!!
A few weeks ago, I got an email from my school telling me that since I was doing so well *pats self on the back* that they would like me to become a mentor. I’m like sure!!! That sorta thing would look great on my resume. So, I jumped at the idea. Then I found out they would be holding some training thingy for us on that “Kirk Franklin Saturday”. But the concert started at 7:00p.m and the training ended by 5:00p.m so, I had time.

On the training day, I went, it was fun, but I felt weird… you know, like, sick. And then it got really bad. I couldn’t even stand straight… Yup!!! Red robot had come a-knocking. *sob* Thinking about it now still hurts. I woulda gladly gone for the concert, shedding uterus walls and all if I could even stand. But I couldn’t. I was in soo much pain. I almost cried on my way back home. Except that I have a medical condition, which makes it impossible for my eyes to tear up except when I yawn. In simpler terms, I mean, I don’t cry.
And to take matters from bad to mbadamba (that’s Ibo for badder) my Advil bottle, which I always carry with me, except, apparently, when I actually need it, was at home.

To cut my long and really sad story, I missed the concert, and nobody thought they should even be kind enough to tell me, “Oh, it was horrible, Kirk lost his voice and the sound was bad, and Ron Kenoly didn’t make a surprise appearance and sing in Ibo and Yoruba. You really didn’t miss anything.” Oh, far be it from my family and friends to spare my fragile emotions. They told me all. Like, exception-of-nothing-inclusion-of-everything type of ALL. I think someone even told me the color and pattern of his boots. Because I just happen to know the color and pattern of his boots. And how do I know if I wasn’t there? Yes, I was told. Wicked people!
I hate being gisted of things. I am a bubbler (ask a QC girl near you), not a slacker. So, I usually get gisted about, or kpata kpata, do the gisting, but NOT get gisted to. That really sucks.

I hope you guys had a better weekend than mine. Actually, scratch that. I hope you had a weekend as shitty as mine. Feel free to tell me about it. We can share a glass of wine while swapping and comparing sob stories. After all, Misery does love company.



P.S. My family and friends aren’t really wicked (usually)… it just adds effizi to the reading when I say that they are… 🙂


4 thoughts on “Tales of woes and sad endings.

  1. nice i love your family, but sorry had an awesome weekend. Went to kirk franklin show tooo, i was amazing 🙂

Enjoy it? Say something!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s