I wish for your sake I had taken a picture of my two-days old toothbrush while it was unused. Although I must admit that doesn’t cross the mind of many at the time of purchase.
So at FoodCo stores, I bought a toothbrush, uhm ‘dynamic plus’. DISCLAIMER; this is not a hate post just in case your cousin’s friend’s nephew works there. So there I was at the toothbrush section, having a dilemma. What toothbrush to pick, what toothbrush to pick. There was the familiar oral B then others. Among others, I saw a beautiful pink and white toothbrush. I selected it. I had even had some minutes discussion with my sister on why she should pick oral B while I picked this one.
Well first night, I used it before I slept and it was frigging hard. Someone say hard. Really it was but no cause for alarm. Now night two rolled around ( just in case you’re wondering, I did brush in the morning, just with my old toothbrush) and I took the toothbrush again but this time, amidst the foam in my mouth, I felt something else. It was only when I brought out my toothbrush out that I discover it was all coming out. I mean the white strands which brush the teeth themselves. The brush. Really just touch them and they pull off. How much weaker can you get?
I’m currently staring at the toothbrush, dazed. Even the N30 brush I bought in school once was better! So I just really had that surprise paralysis then decided to make a post to the effect of my new toothbrush. Enclosed are pictures. For now, I leave you with a poem;
It is pink and white
It is fake
It is soft to touch
Hard to brush
Oh who shall deliver me from the power of toothbrush
The pictures aren’t very clear, i took them with my laptop. I also took these with my laptop
This is my room. Roommates are saying hello.
Posts by Deborah Osinowo
green and yellow
Well I wrote this about five months ago. Here:
the lady with the green and yellow umbrella
I watched her go
a little stiffness to her steps
a little rigidity of the back
dressed in a beautiful suit
but you can tell by the shoes
brown leather shoes; it had it’s victory story
it had been with the cobbler one too many times
it had fought it’s own good fight.
She’s in her late thirties
angry
wondering when it will pay off
countless sacrifices
sleepless nights, long nights at the office
no significant progress
perhaps I’m wrong
perhaps I’m quick to judge
but my silent apology dies in my mouth
and against my wish my lips tug up as my predictions do not taunt me
a lady in an Honda accord comes speeding by, splashing water on her
she screams out
her bag falls from her hand
she drops to her knees sobbing
just before
the green and yellow umbrella comes tumbling down
second post
Okay today is the day! If I do not blog today I will stand in front of my campus fellowship and ask them to pray for me to fulfill divine purpose. Now that’s an ultimatum. *Sheepish grin*.
The above paragraph is not true. After typing this same post on my phone for so long, I left it as a draft post on WordPress since September 7 until today.
Now I’ll move on to the confession part, just not to the pair of eyes I’ll find in the fellowship but to the internet township.
I used to read blogs a lot. Then, I took a little decision and opened a blog of my own. I posted something then regretted it; the normalcy of it, it was average.
Compared to posts I read, there was nothing unique to draw you in. I battled the desire to delete it.
I didn’t. I still won’t. I will cling to my first WordPress post ever. When this is a decent enough blog with readers, I will cringe in embarrassment hoping nobody would scroll down well enough to find these posts. But then on an act of impulse, I’ll post the link to that first post because come what may, it was my first post online and not in the confines of my diary hence it deserves respect.
I refuse to be that servant in the Bible, Luke 19: 20ff. The one who gave the same excuses I’ve been giving. The one who didn’t use what was in his hands.
“And another came, saying, Lord, behold, here is thy pound, which I have kept laid up in a napkin.”
No more excuses. Yes, my room is a place that doesn’t allow strong internet connection except at night (strange queen Idia hall in UI).Yes, I know there are many more blog posts to read from other people. Still I can make it work.
This is what I wrote sometimes last week about my writing or rather my not writing:
” I feel I have so much impression and I can’t express it. I look around, ready stories bubbling, sputtering but as I try to express I remember the many I never finished, I remember my lean body of description compared to better writers and I fumble a bit then close off. I know, I can see the many disapproving glances you shoot me, the stinging encouraging words you hurl at me. I know. Really I do. I am just telling you how I feel about now.”
Now I would blog, not because I have it figured out. I will blog because I choose to. My resolve is the important part. I will write because I am a writer. I own my blog anyway.
Prettier without the mask
How do we all hide our anxieties?The question came strongly to my mind after a stressful day.
Don’t tell me you never get anxious.
Moving from post to post and pillar to pillar, I broke down the day that same day and cried. We all have various ways of dealing with stress but I’d say the majority of us don’t address it. We hide it.
A great number of us cover our anxieties and uncertainties through work. We choose to get so busy. We get on the treadmill of life , thinking constant activities would drown out our feelings. The thread mill of life doesn’t even help anyone lose calories. It just works you.
There is this general notion that if you don’t talk about it, it doesn’t exist. We get so interested in ignoring our problems hoping it will go away but when it finally builds up, and all the pent up frustration explodes, such a person become a mess. That’s when you see people go into depression. Depression sound surreal to you? It is in no way surreal.
After eveeything, do you return to the cycle of working your emotions away?Using responsibilities as a pretext for not having to face your mental health. Why are we all searching for a mask?
Let everyone discover and exploit every new emotion, every feeling, whether of pain, happiness, distress, love. Face that pet before it becomes a giant. Lets all battle one day at a time. One day at a time. Leave each day’s worry with that day. Don’t try to ignore and work it off. Address it.
You’re prettier without the mask of pretence on.