I am sitting cross legged on my floor one day, the tiles are cold but after a while they warm up, and being ceramic they stay warm too. I do not care much that getting up might be a bit of an issue my BMI is over if oh so slightly and I am not the most flexible tool in the shed; I have neither a chair nor a table and thus have no choice. I keep switching between radio stations, only stopping when a song with lyrics I am familiar with is on and I do not need prompting to sing along at the top of my voice, I am mainly sewing though. I am making a khaki pencil skirt that I will hopefully wear one day, when I stop worrying about the size of my ass and the number of persons staring at me at any given moment and that when I sit it will sit as well and not ride up my leg forcing me to keep pulling it to my knees or at least close enough.  

Bleep Happens!

Bleep Happens!
I stopped Running,
Put My Life On Cinder Blocks,
Still... Standing Still,
Like A Busted Clock
The Sun Is Shining,
Later, The Moon Will Be Rising,
Bleep Will Happen.

So I Started Pushing Hard...
And Hoping
Then Proceeded To Working Hard...
Still On The Hope Thing
Well For What I Fought
Was All For Naught
Bleep Just Had To Do Its Thing...
Bleep Happened.

Long Story Short,
I caught The Dreaded Bug, Love,
Or Something Of The Sort,
Sometimes It Was Hot,
Other Times Cold,
Some Hypothermic Heat Stroke Type Thing, Love,
Bleeping Bleep! You Just Couldn't Wait Could You?

But Then Again, Bleep Has To Happen To Be Bleep,
C'mon, That Right There Was Deep,
Bleep Happens!
Bleep Will Happen!
Just Bleeping Let It!

Underwear.

Underwear shall herein be referred to as 'package'.

When obtaining the package, one should assume military type protocol. Get in, secure the package, get out.
No time to check out the latest arrivals from say Afghanistan: hmm, looks pretty much like a burka, ooh elastic, you don't get that on a burka burka.
Just in from China: with instant butt enhancements, what? celebrity prototypes, what? A J-lo? i could rock this, maybe shorten my name and learn some Spanish too. Kind of package that transforms you, makes you a better person. That's the kind of package one needs right?
No gaddemit! You been in too long, you been made, you been shot.

I went in, retrieved the package, went straight to checkout.

Then it started. People around me started thinking with their eyes, the checkout guy, eyeballing me, eyeballing the package, glancing at the guy behind me, who then eyeballs my backside, then the package... what?! huh?! what?!

I shove the cash in his hand, he slowly rings the package, the bagger slowly bags the package. No change, leave the receipt, no trail. Packages tend to make one paranoid, that it does. Like when ones package is say, torn, then the said one has a guilty look all day, and spontaneously breaks into a sweat.

This is where adjustable X-ray vision would come in handy, military type issue of course and adjustable as shrinks don't come cheap. I would have immense pleasure in making people squirm: spiderman?! what are you? five?... mmmh black on black, nice...

I get home, I lock the door, draw the curtains, then open the package. Bloody Bollocks! polka dots, orange on purple!, stripes, hot pink and purple! solid hot pink, solid blue...daisies?! I threw up a bit in my mouth. Might as well join the circus, hell I got costumes.

Hot pink! I bet they glow in the dark...those could come in handy what with the darned KPLC, bumped my toe too many a night, that darn insomniac next door will definitely ask about it...'oooh what was that glowing at your place last night?' ...'candle' ...'never seen a hot pink candle before' ... 'Chinese'. They should make those.

I noticed that the blue ones run hey what if I'm on a really long bus ride on a really hot day and get sick and need a shot...'ooooh what do we have here?'....'are you breathing okay?' ...'do you feel any pain in your lungs when inhaling?'... 'any respiratory problems in your family?'...'hmmm this is strange.'  All this time I'm shaking my head...wait there was this one time I held my breath really long because a bug went up my nose and I didn't want to breathe it all the way in until I found a tissue to blow it out and I was at a really posh place so the other way of blowing stuff out your nose was not an option and I thus had this constipated look on...woah that's a mouthful, need to breathe.

'Is there a problem doctor?' ... 'Well your ass is blue.'

Ordinary, Nah, I Do Not Play That.

I Have Dug Graves Before. On Some Days, One , Two, Even More.

Most Days, In The Afternoons, I'd Put My Nephew To Sleep, Then Get To It.

Couldn't Bring Him Along, Then He'd Start Touching And Poking And Mimicking...A Distraction

Some Days, He'd Refuse To Take His Nap, That Meant Putting Off The Digging And Burying

I Would Get Relieved, For A Fleeting Second At Least, But I Knew.

The More I Wait, The Bigger The Pile Grows, The Bigger The Pile, The Heavier The Load, The Heavier The Load, The Longer The Trek Uphill, The Longer The Trek Uphill, The Longer Those Milky Unseeing Eyes Stare At Me... And The Stench!

I Could Throw Them Out, Leave It To The Dogs... Thought About It A While Too.

Digging Graves And Burying Them Is The Least I Can Do For Them, They Were Under My Care... And They Died.

Upcycled Fashion By Nduta.

Hey, Last Time I Was This Excited Was.... Erm Never! Seriously, I Could Vibrate.. Okay, I Am.
Every Piece Of Clothing I Am Wearing In These Photos (Those That You Can See And  Excluding The Stockings) Is Upcycled. In The First, The Top Was An Ugly Dress, The Pencil Skirt Was My Mums High Waisted Pants: In The Second, The Clingy Blue Long Sleeved Dress Was A Baggy Stretched Out Sleeping Shirt: In The Third, A Two T-shirt Piece Dress(White And Grey), Leftover Grey Sleeve I Turned Into A Quirky MJ Glove: Last, A Twoer...Used Two Polo T-shirts For This One, Tried A Fifties Look.

Working On A Whole Lot More...

The Lord Is Good All The Time.

Question

Is it true that when ones’ passion for something dies another replaces it?

Well I know for a fact that high school killed my passion for life. So I took up the role of rebel. Was about time anyway, I was well into my teens. Ate a lot too. Several near expulsions and significant weight gain later, I was done. Longest four years of this life of mine.

I am an artist. So were my mother and grandmother before me. How seriously do I take my art? I was ready to quit high school and live off art. In another place and time I would have done it too.

I’ve put countless hours into my art since then; will put in a lot more, as long as I’m breathing. Everything else will have to play second best.

Why couldn’t I just make a clean break? Why did my heart and mind have to get scarred? That’s the worst part.

Who am I to question the Almighty? Can’t a potter choose to make from the same lump of clay a pot for noble use or one for common purpose?

The Lord shows compassion to whomever He shows compassion to, He is merciful to whomever He shows mercy to.

Halter-Corset-Waistcoat-Type Thingy

This Piece Was Fun, Suffers An 'Identity Crisis' But That's The Beauty Of It. Kinda Like A Bi-Polar Aunt Celeste, Freaks You Out A Little Bit But Sings And Dances In The Street High On Anti-depressants And Truly Happy. And That Right There Is Some Top Notch Rambling.