An Apology Letter To The Internet


I’m sorry for abandoning you for a while now. I have had a few hard months myself that blogging and writing for the internet was the last thing in my mind. I switched towns and with that, it came with it’s own type and level of madness. I have been trying to adjust,the city is a mad place, believe me.It needs a lot of getting used to. I started my own business and that too came with another level of madness. I have only tried to survive long enough to see another day.

It’s hard to find inspiration to create anything when you are tired all the time from all the chaos that is your existence. But now I think the madness is manageable or at least I delude myself. A perfect illusion is all we have,you know. In my perfect deluded state, I can now say that am ready to start creating more or at least try. Trying is all we have you know. From now on, you’ll be seeing more of my posts or so I hope.

From the experience I have had, am back with more stories to tell,stay tuned. You should read my blog often. I am back to telling the twenty something’s stories and my personal survival tricks. Tricks forged through experience, of course.
Sorry internet, for abandoning you. Real life has a way of getting in the way,sometimes, you know.
Namaste!

Dear Libra 

You is broke.


You is barely surviving.


You is in debts.


You is behind on rent.


You is losing friends 


You is losing money.


You is trying to lose weight and failing seriously.


You is failing in almost everything.


You is finding it impossible to get a job.


You is almost losing your house.


You is having a hard year.


Worry not… survive 2017. We had an easy 2016, in retrospect. It’s alright. It’s written on the stars. 2017 was meant to humble us. We are a proud lot, it was bound to happen someday. 


Let’s get through 2017.


After all odd numbers have always done a number on us.


2018 we will reclaim our lives, our dignity and most importantly, our pride.


We have survived 4 months, 8 to go or less. Maybe when it gets to September, our star will change things and we will reclaim all we have lost 


So we sip our morning coffee. We sip our wine. We empty cups and glasses. We get by. We survive. Something will give,maybe, or maybe it won’t but we won’t break. We are stronger than most. It’s just 2017,duh”. The worst that could happen is not survive 2017 you know.


Namaste 

Ghost Story 

It was one fine Sunday, Paul, one fine lady was having a little lazy morning. Yes. Her name was Paul. An unusual name for a female,a usual male given name. Growing up kids made fun of her for having a male name but that was long time ago. Now she is a woman and she made peace with it. She is even proud of her name. She somehow used it in her favor, or so she claims, how?I don’t know. Her best friend Pauline had come over and the girls were catching up on the weeks event. It’s a girl thing 

So how was your week Pauline?”

“Amazing, Charles from the office asked me out.”

Half listening Paul.

“What did you say?”

“I said no.”

“Why?”

“You look distracted Paul. Are you okay?”

“I guess. I just feel weird.”

“Hormonal weird or sick weird?”

Only a girl can understand a girl that much 

“Something in between”

“You either pregnant or on your periods.”

“Hahaha I can’t be pregnant. Am on the pill, duh”

“Pill pregnancy is a thing. When was the last time you had your periods and how exactly do you feel?”

“Tired. Sleepy. Dammit and have been peeing often.”

“Yessss”

“What? You are the nurse here. What do you think is happening to your body?”

“Shit! Points to pregnancy. There’s some kit somewhere in this house. I better find out for sure “




Paul takes the test. It’s positive. She is thirty. Pregnant doesn’t seem like such a bad thing,maybe this is it. I mean she had a good job,a supportive boyfriend and good friends, her best friend Pauline has always been there. She even thinks Pauline will make a great aunt and godmother to her unborn baby. The child she was carrying will have an okay place to grow up in. They(her and Wayne her boyfriend) weren’t trying for a baby but here they were.

Since she confirmed she was pregnant, she started taking extra care of herself. She realized that she wasn’t just living for herself but for two now. 
Wayne was thrilled. Everyone at work was excited for her . It wasn’t such a bad thing, she thought. Her boss was being nice since she realized Paul was carrying a baby.She felt a little guilty for getting pregnant without a ring on her finger. She knew her mother will be a little disappointed but she also knew dearest Mommy will come around, she always does. I mean that’s what mothers do. Even though she is having a child out of wedlock, her first child should count for something. It’s special and she had never disappointed her before. Besides she wasn’t getting any younger after all. she can’t believe she will be a mother soon, motherhood didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Six months into it and she miscarried. She took her IFAS supplements, she attended pre natal clinic, she reduced her working hours, she was off alcohol… generally she took care of herself but somehow she miscarried. Her baby that defied science and nature the first time also defied the rules of pregnancy and left her wounded. She didn’t get to hold the baby . She went through the motions of recovery; depression, insecurity and finally acceptance. 

One year down the line they decide to try again. Wayne had witnessed what she went through, it somehow changed her, even their relationship felt strange. You can’t go through such a thing and survive without a little change. .
She gets pregnant, she is off the pill, not some miracle baby that defied science or anything. She doesn’t even tell people. They all notice later own. She takes extra care of herself. On her labour, she smiles, even proud of herself, she is looking forward of holding her baby, it’s a surprise, she didn’t want to find out the sex of the baby. 

“It’s a girl”, the doctor announces. She smiles. 

“Can I hold her?”

“Still birth . Sorry. You don’t have to do this “.

Madness takes over. She screams. She shouts. She wants to hold her baby. Labor is madness and still birth is worse. The doctor surrenders and gives it to her. She sobs for her baby. She mourns for her baby. A baby she didn’t get to hold…….
She broke it off with Wayne.

She stopped talking to her best friend 

She isolated herself.

She quit her job.

She went to India, there is magic in India, she was told. To find her chi. 


Now she is a yoga instructor.

Childless.

Alone.

After what she had been through…. 

Blessing Galore 

Finally we hit 200 posts.

I feel blessed. 

Now that Easter is here, I would like to thank The Guy above for his unending love and blessings He sent my way and for The gift of life .

 Thanks to my readers for your constant support. For reading my work. For validating my struggles by commenting and e-mailing me. Sometimes all it takes is to hear from you and I know I don’t have to stop writing for the internet 
Thanks to my friends, family, strangers and beautiful glorious sundown for inspiration, sharing moments with me and your stories.

 Thanks to insomnia I get to write at night. 

Special thanks to my hormones, that girl, surely, makes me bleed words and literally.

Today it’s all morning sunshine, coffee and gratitude. It’s truly during Easter weekend, just  after the glorious ecclesiastial full Moon. The universe is all awesomeness and gratitude.
It wouldn’t have been possible without y’all sharing your stories and life with me. 
It wouldn’t have been possible without the glorious beautiful sunset that inspires me to want to create something beautiful.
It wouldn’t have been possible without conversation with the moon. She inspires conversations in my head for the book I will never write.
3am is a beautiful place. It’s where my favorite pieces come from. 
Thanks to bloggers for supporting and editing my work. 
My hormones, she is the best. 
Thanks to everyone and everything that made blogging worth the work, vulnerability and the pain.
Thanks to WordPress for giving me a platform to project my life. 

It wouldn’t have been possible without the internet community. I may never meet y’all but surely you have been the best. Your support, hate speech, spam messages and constructive criticism has been for the best.

I hope my words have not been in vain. 
Keep the love. Keep the support.
Yesterday and other days from yesterday I have had moments of walking away from writing. The vulnerability of sharing my thoughts online sometimes literally hurts. But it’s the posts that leave me most vulnerable that matter the most. It’s the posts of my struggles that make a few people feel less alone and for me that’s enough.
Namaste. 

An Email To Crazy Monday 

This is Ms.Riri but her friends call her Daisy. She is just a girl from a small town with big town dreams. Sometimes she writes about big town dreams but mostly it is about small town happenings. She talks about terrible things with a touch of humor and sarcasm. Currently she is an unemployed twenty something doing odd jobs to get by. When she is not at working, she is writing stuff online, watching bad TV while sipping water or cheap wine that stains her teeth or coffee. There is a huge chance she is always sipping coffee, though.

I don’t think am popular on social media but I know a couple or more than a couple of strangers who read the substandard prose I post online and sometimes I get inspired and write poems.

I have a blog, not popular of course. There is a chance the same couple or more than a couple of strangers online read the blog, but what do I know?

Every time I get started working on a piece my intentions are pure; write something inspiring and educative. If you read my posts online you will realize they are mostly sarcastic with a touch of humor. The articles and stories are mainly for people out there to feel less alone and have a little laugh. I make up words that do not exist; English falls short in some situations you know. There is a long list of words somewhere with my name on it or maybe there isn’t but that doesn’t mean I will stop using problemly and the like. Chuck Lorre once said, “sometimes you write and you think your words are funny and mind blowing but in reality they are just words that doesn’t mean you stop writing”.

In other news, I did not set myself up to write this mail nor see the advert but approximately six strangers online sent me the advert. It might not seem as much but having six or more strangers believe in you is a big deal where I come from. The message that hit the spot or should I use the coffin and nail expression? The message was from some girl who promised to Phillip Drummond a bottle of wine if I email you. Well, if we have met then you obviously know I never turned down alcohol ever; I doubt I can start now.

Find me on Facebook @ Daisy Riri
Blog @ www.daisyriri.wordpresss.co

PS. I told you they don’t e-mail me back 

My Daughter

From the best lilies pure and white, God fashioned your lovely skin
He took snow, picked black for your momma’s skin color and chose the eyes
A softer, sweeter mouth that carries the golden smile to light our days was made
He picked the best rose flower, pink and sweet and touched it to your dimpled cheeks
He curled and shaped your little ears
He gathered pollen from the flowers and sprinkled them on your skin to spice your skin color
You are a precious little angel, with sweetness from above who fills our years with laughter
My daughter when you are grown,
Don’t go looking for men to buy you Mac Lipsticks, serve yourself with coffee and work on driving a Merc
Don’t hold your lips in or make them thin because beauty is not a shape but a mind set
You should always know that the world will desire you if only you desired yourself
Always have in mind that craziness ranges from art to misplaced grammar and drama and that brings out creativity
You should always know that taking nudes will not win hearts but will only create feuds with your inner self
My daughter when you are grown, don’t go crying for an imperfect nose because the nose isn’t meant to be beautiful but to breath
My daughter when you are grown, take honey for a complement for your momma was a bee and she taught you to make sweet nice honey
My daughter when you are grown, never fear pressure, take it with your stretched hands for pressure makes diamonds and shine your way all to the top
My daughter when you are grown, and the opportunities are scarce just take the odds and they will always add to an even
My daughter when you are grown, always remember the spiders are computer illiterate but they are the best web designers, meaning no one should undermine you
Make yourself a productive field for your husband and let him treasure you like the gold mines in Congo
Never rush to make decisions but always sit back and use your Ubongo
My daughter when you are grown never fight for the obvious but make the sacred obvious
Value your boyfriend but don’t let him stretch your legs if you are not willing, always remember that everything has got some damn consequences
Never get deceived by careers, follow your heart because many are doctors whose wives are patient but they never take them for a treat
Don’t dream for a honey moon in Rome but always dream of getting a home for yourself
My daughter when you are grown, don’t let people love you for your hips but what’s between your ears
My daughter you should never be bitter because we never made it in life, remember you are the flavor to make our life sweeter
©2017, #ItutorPoetry

Letters To No One From A Retired Party Girl

I loved the parties, my god, I did. At no one point did I think I would ever quit. Not even in my best nightmare. I loved everything about partying; I loved the way people are happy even in dingy barrooms. I loved the honesty, rawness and vulnerability after a little liquid confidence. I think am obsessed with human emotions. That should explain why I write about human emotions; Love, hate, indifference etc. I’m fascinated by human behavior and generally the human race. all this things are raw at 2 a.m in a non alcoholic night and anytime after 11p.m in barrooms. I loved how a total stranger could tell you their secret and you might never see them again but you will walk away with a part of them they hide from the world forever( I love collecting stories and the next best thing after books. The Good Book included is anywhere alcohol is served. ) I love how girls took care of each other in clubs bathrooms. You will fully appreciate being female in that damn bathroom I promise. There’s some about drunk bathroom moments that is too good to be true.
There was a year I was off alcohol read pretended to not drink because I desperately wanted someone to stay in my life. It didn’t work , they married someone else. Pretend for it. In retrospect, that was an interesting year, I partied as much just without touching alcohol. That was the year I learnt to dance in public sober and I collected more stories. It was fun turning down free drinks though my girls will disagree… I have never turned down a free drink because no one ever offered. The only free drinks I ever had were from friends which BTW they are never entirely free. Or the ones I stole from parties when they let me make their cocktails.
I found a way to feed my quest of capturing human emotions that does not involve barrooms. Healthier ways, even. There was nothing left for Me there now. Now I’m no longer a party girl just a girl who sometimes shows up for parties, because, somehow, in a sleep induced haze or in an uncaffeinated moment of weakness I might have agreed to show up. I still have a modestly enough good time it’s not entirely painful. Though I would rather sleep in and read a book. I still force people to take shots. If you made me dress up instead of sleeping in, you better shove shots down your throat until you start puking. It’s called good Karma. Duh
Do I miss the parties? Hell yes. Do I want to go back? Hell No. I had my fill now am over it. Unless the joint has fine coffee and Wi-Fi, then honey, I can be persuaded. Otherwise , it’s a definite No. There was a time when all it took was a promise of alcohol and I was grabbing lipstick, fixing my hair, showering even, rocking heels and doing the tiniest of mini skirts. Daddy’s issues, I know,Right? I mean am all legs but I used not to let an opportunity to flaunt my legs pass by. No. I was never raped, they lied to us that if you wear miniskirts you will be sexually assaulted. Rapists will come after you with or without mini skirts. That’s beside the point,anyway, even though there’s no point. These days even a promise of good Wi-Fi sometimes doesn’t seem to cut it.
I don’t know what happened to me. I always did hate human touch though I enjoyed interacting with humans. Now I can’t even handle talking on phone with more than three people per day….and family is not on that list, let’s stick to the once in two weeks or wait for family reunion, 25th of December is such a good time to catch up. I missed last year’s Christmas, this year I promise to show up, okay,?I feel old. Partying feels like a real job. damn!
For a party girl out there. Keep doing it. You will have the best stories when the party is over. I promise.
Honestly, I forgot where I was going with this. There’s no point.