Pursuit of love??

Ok, so i wrote this sometime early this year, but never had the courage to put it up...I seem to be on a high tonight (no, i don't do drugs), so i'm putting it up....Please let me know what you think when you're done reading. Thanks :)

It all happened so quickly. Before Nadia knew what was happening, she’d become the other woman in Bill’s life. She was not happy about what was going on between Bill and her, but she was also frustrated to realise she didn’t have the will power to put an end to something she had such strong convictions about.

“What mess have I got myself into?” She asked herself in the dark of her room. Bill had just called to say he’ll be with her within the next hour. He was so excited at the prospect of seeing her again that he did not notice the sadness in her voice.

“Sweetie! Guess what?” He went on without giving her the time to make her guess.

“Akua just called to say she’s going away on a field trip for the next two weeks. Can you imagine that? Two whole weeks! As we speak, she’s at home packing!”

“Okay, Bill.”

“Yea, very okay. So, see you soon darling. Should I get you some of Aunty Ama’s  kelewele on my way? You should try it with the new ice cream from frosty bite! It’s like going to heaven.”

Nadia rolled her eyes and feigned excitement, “Oh really? I can’t wait to try out that combination. See you when you get here.”

“Can you pick me up from the station? I don’t want to drive over. Too many questions about what my car is doing in your driveway from your neighbours who can’t seem to mind their own business”, Bill laughed.

Nadia did not find anything funny about what he had just said. But she decided to let it go – at least, with him. She would sort it out with herself later.

“No problem, I’ll be there. Just call me when you’re five minutes away from the station.”

“See you soon dear, bye”

Six months earlier, she believed she was the happiest girl on earth. She had just moved out of her parent’s home into her own apartment. She still remembers Natalie’s reaction when she first told her she was moving out. They had both met for lunch at a spot close to Nadia’s office.

“Natalie, guess what?”

“My friend, if you have something to tell me, tell me now ooo, I’ve got loads of work on my desk to finish up. Kofi always puts up an attitude when I carry over work from the office home. It’s almost as if I’m cheating on him with my work!”

Holding up her hands to signal her to stop, Nadia said, “Before this turns into a “marriage is not easy” session, I was just going to let you know that I’ll need your help this weekend.”

“Oh, so that is what you wanted me to guess eh?”

“Won’t you ask what for?”

“Why should I when I already know? You need me to take you shopping for something to wear for another of your friend’s wedding I guess. Who is it this time?”

“You’re wrong my dear sister. I need you to help me pack into my own apartment! I’m moving out!”

“That’s a lie. We both know Mr and Mrs Adams will never in a million years allow that to happen. Their anthem has always been “Unless you’re moving in to your husband’s house, you’re going nowhere”.

“Well, let’s just say, between the time you got married and now, a million years have passed.”

Natalie had been so excited at the news that she stayed an extra hour into her lunch break. She was fully convinced that their parent’s change in stance on the issue of moving out was because of her though she could not exactly point out the connection.

“See, when I got married and moved out, it made them realise that we were no longer kids. It suddenly dawned on them that we were adults who had their own lives to lead.”

The ring of her phone brought Nadia’s thoughts back to the present. Without checking the caller ID, she knew it was Bill. She picked her keys and answered on her way out.

“Hi!, I’m on my way,” she told him as she backed out of her driveway.

“Ooops, I was hoping you’ll answer before setting off, but never mind. I’d wanted us to pass by La Paillote for your favourite.”

“Let’s make it tomorrow then,” Nadia suggested. She was hungry alright, but was in no mood to eat out. “We’ll find something to eat from my end.”

“Anything that makes you happy, my dear, anything for you.”

Nadia smiled to herself. This was one of the things about Bill that so much endeared him to her. He virtually lived to make her happy. Bill was already at the station when she got there. As she eased her bright red Opel into the only available parking spot, she wondered why there was so much activity in town this evening. Everyone seemed to be headed somewhere. Bill spotted her and walked towards where she was parked. He let himself in through the front passenger side and leaned in towards her to plant a quick kiss on her cheek before she could protest.

“Bill! I’ve told you time and again I am not a fan of PDA! You never know w ho’s watching!”

“You don’t have to bother too much about what people think sometimes, you know?” he chuckled as he fixed his seat belt.

“Oh really? Then why am I here picking you up? I thought you were worried about my neighbours seeing your car in my driveway”. Nadia could not hide her indignation.

“Sweety, that’s a different case.”

“You know what? Let’s just end this before it turns into the topic of discussion for the night. I’m too stressed out for that.”

“You definitely are stressed out, and I know just what will de-stress you.” He leaned in again to kiss her, but drew back into his seat when he saw the look of disapproval in her eyes. “Wow, I promise to behave until we get behind closed doors,” He joked.

Shaking her head, she said, “You’re just impossible Bill” and burst out into laughter as she eased her car out of the parking lot.

They both rode in silence for a while before Bill broke into Nadia’s thoughts.

“Hey, did you listen to Uncle Ebo this morning?”

“No, what did he say today?”

“He was giving you ladies tips on how to be more caring. I was tempted to call Akua and ask her to tune in. But I thought twice about it and stopped myself.”

“Why didn’t you think about calling and asking me to listen too?” She sounded jealous.

“Because, you, my darling are already too caring. I couldn’t ask for more from you. Thank you for always being there for me.”

“That sounded so sincere. You almost drew a tear from my eyes.”

“It is actually from the depths of my heart Nadia.”

“Okay. I’m glad you value my time and attention”. She flashed him a smile and silently prayed for a change in subject. She really was not up for any emotional things this evening. She turned on the radio, and his reaction to the news item being discussed made her thank her stars she did. She would rather discuss the Arab Spring with him tonight than how he felt about her. Her thoughts on that issue were enough.

“Looks like your neighbours are part of the reason town is so congested today” Bill noted as they pulled into the driveway. “Where have they all gone to?”

“Don’t get too excited dear, most of them started making use of their garages after a recent spate of minor burglaries.”

“So why is your car being parked outside?”

“Oh, there’s nothing on or in this car that those thieves want. Let’s just say that’s my reward for using my dad’s 1985 model Opel. The perks of hand-me-downs I guess.”

Nadia noticed Bill kept looking over his shoulder as they walked towards her apartment. She felt like laughing, but at the same time, his actions made her realise the situation she’d put herself in. She however quickly banished the thought and uneasy feeling that came along with it to the back of her mind. She’ll deal with it later, she told herself.

“Settle down while I get us something to eat Bill.”

Bill planted a kiss on her cheek as he handed her the ice cream and kelewele he had promised her.

“It’s beginning to melt. I guess we should keep it in the freezer for later”.

“You know, I totally forgot about it. Since when did frosty bite start producing this flavour though?” She dropped them on the table and Bill picked them up and headed for the kitchen.

“I don’t know love.”

Nadia laid down in the couch and began channel surfing. Her favourite programme was on air.

“Bill, hurry up and let’s watch this together. You will not believe what Adelaide said to her boss! She’s going to be fired. I can bet my last pesewa on that!

“I’ll soon join you dear” Bill hated that particular series, but he was ready to watch it with her.”

The ring of his phone startled her. “Your phone’s ringing!” She screamed, a little annoyed that the loud music from his phone was drowning out what was being said on the TV.

“Could you please answer for me?” Bill screamed from the kitchen.

Nadia was fishing the phone from the pocket of his jacket which he had dropped on the rack when he entered. “No! I’m not going to answer. Oh, and by the way, it’s your wife calling. Do you still want me to answer?” She screamed back.

Bill was in the living room at this point and rushed to snatch the phone from her hands. “Hello dear. Yes, I’m home.”

Nadia turned down the volume of the television at his signal. His phone was not on loudspeaker, but she could clearly hear his wife’s voice from the other end. “I just arrived at Sunyani. The journey was stressful and my battery also ran down. I’m sure you were worried trying to get through to me.”

Bill lied. “Yes, I was worried after I couldn’t get through to you.” He did not know why, but he went on, “I almost called your driver, but I felt it was not safe since he would be driving”.

Nadia made a mental note to tease him on this lie later on. She headed out to the porch in an effort to give him some privacy.

“I am sorry dear,” Akua yawned noisily into the phone. “I’ve got to hit my sheets. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for me. I’ve got a number of meetings with some clients.”

“Okay, I’m tired myself and will also head to bed soon. Have a goodnight.”

“Goodnight”, Akua replied. Just as Bill was about to cut the line, she called his name.

“Bill, I know I have not told you this in a long while, but I love you. I really do. And I miss us. I miss what we used to be.”

“Errm, Akua, you know I also do.”

“Yes I do. We will survive this test together. I know it.” Even as she said this, there was unbelief deep within her heart. But she had always believed in positive confession, and she was only putting into practice her beliefs. The positive ones at least.

“Goodnight”, Bill said once again. He wanted their conversation to come to an end. Had he been in his matrimonial home, he would have clutched at this rare opportunity to make things work out with his wife. But no, he was in his mistress’ house, and his conscience will not permit him to start reconciliatory talks with his wife of five years. Living with her for the past half year had been tough. It was as though an undeclared war had been in progress. A war neither one of them seemed to be winning. This he felt had left them both with an unspoken sense of suspicion. He could tell from the way she acted towards him that she had her suspicions about his fidelity. But then again, it could just be his guilt driving him to read too deep between the lines. He also had his suspicions. Funny enough, he realised his suspicions were baseless anytime he brought himself to think of it. It was a fact that her business trips had gotten more frequent within the past 3 months, but he also knew it was because of the new project she’d been given to manage.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and went out to join Nadia who was gazing at the stars on the porch.

“Are you not going to finish up the show? It’s still on.”

She did not shift her gaze from the sky. “No, I’ll watch the repeat omnibus over the weekend. That’s what I always do anyways. I had just wanted to watch this episode with you.”

“I’m sorry.” He simply said.

There was a look of surprise on Nadia’s face as she tore her gaze away from the sky and asked, “What for?” His ability to apologise without prompting was another thing that endeared him to her though sometimes, it got on her nerves. This was one of those times.

Bill could not tell if she was being genuine. “I’m sorry for disrupting your favourite show, and also for spending too much time with her on the phone.”

“Come on! How could you apologise for speaking to her? She’s your wife for god’s sake!”

“Thanks for understanding me then.”

He sat by her and put his arm around her shoulders. Her eyes were back in the sky, fixatedly staring at the stars. Tears slid down her cheeks without warning. Bill did not ask if everything was alright. He wiped the tears from her face and kissed her on the forehead. She tilted her head back  till her lips found his. She knew they were outside, but it took her five or more minutes to listen to the voice that had been screaming in her head, that kissing someone else’s husband on  your front porch wasn’t such a bright idea.

“Let’s go indoors”, she said, breaking off the kiss.

To be continued ;)

Bill's Story...Part 1

So i finally got around to writing a short story. This was after someone I was always ranting to about wanting to write but never having the time to do it made me feel like I'm not serious about the writing thing...so, here it is...if you read and you think it's worth sharing, then please share... Ps. let me know what you think of it through comments.

As we walked towards my car in the car park, I noticed we were the last two people to be leaving the office.

“Where is everyone?”, I wondered out loud.

“Funny you’re now asking. I noticed when we started down the stairs too that we were alone in the building.”

“So why didn’t you point it out?”

“What difference would that have made?”

I could tell she was trying real hard to not sound sarcastic. Her reply made me realise I should not have asked mine in the first place.

“Would it have made you more open to adventure?”, she continued.

This made me realise that she had really been coming on to me back in the office. It wasn’t my mind playing tricks with me. Amy was the new girl in the office. “Da new gal on da block” was how Kwadwo put it. He had been planning and scheming on getting her to so much as smile at him since she first stepped foot into the building, but his plans were yet to work. Instead, she seemed to be warming up to me a lot recently. I did not even notice it until Kwadwo pointed it out to me during one lunch break.

“You’re beginning to imagine things.”  

That was what I said to him. No, it’s not a case of me having low self esteem or anything of that sort. It’s just that I’m a realist – I’m very much aware of the fact that Kwadwo who could be described as my best pal, is a looker. Most girls go to all lengths to catch his attention even in the office. I on the other hand, am your average plain guy, the kind who will not warrant a second look from any girl. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not ugly. I’m just not on the same level as my pal when it comes to the looks department. That is why I find it a bit awkward that Amy is being all nice to me instead of my friend.

My original plan when I got into the office this morning was to clear all the backlog of work off my desk by 3:30pm. I had wanted to close before the evening rush hour so I could surprise Berth with supper this evening, but it was not meant to be. I had underestimated the volume of work I had, and here I was five hours after my own deadline.

“Which way are you headed?”, I enquired.

“Towards Madina.” “Aww, that’s so sweet of you,”  She gushed when I offered to drop her off.

No, Madina was nowhere near my intended final destination, and she was very much aware of this. I was hoping she’ll be considerate and ask me to drop her off at a point so she could pick a dropping home. I just realised my hopes were set too high. I managed a smile that looked genuine but felt nowhere near genuine. How on earth was I going to make it from Madina to Tema with the amount of fuel in my tank?

We got into the car, and I cursed under my breath  when loud hip hop came out the speakers once I turned on the engine. The look on her face when I looked up at her was one of surprise.

“Why do you look so amazed?”

“I was just wondering why you were cursing. If you were the last person to step out of your own car, the system volume will not climb up to 40 plus by itself, and neither will the CD change itself to what was playing.”

She noticed I did not find it funny. “I’m just trying to say you should chill out and be yourself around me!”

I was tempted to explain to her that Kwadwo had used my car during lunch break because his was at the workshop, but I felt I owed her no explanation. I just smiled, closed my eyes and let out a deep breath as I loosened my tie just a little bit. When I opened my eyes, she had leaned in towards me with her chin drawn up and a dreamy look on her face. There was just enough lighting from the car park for me to see. I was taken aback. I gently pushed her back into her seat whiles apologising profusely.

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not too late to change your mind. I know you’re not married, Jay”.

That also caught me unawares. “Oh no, no, I’m not married, but-”, She cut me off as she leaned in towards me again. This time round, she kissed me, and I responded although I was uncomfortable with it. My thoughts kept going back to Berth, but I kept telling myself this will not go anywhere. The ring of my phone was what it took to break it off. I cursed as I reached for it from the depths of my pocket. I knew from the ring tone who it was.

“Darling, I’m about driving out of the office. See you soon.”

I turned to look at Amy. “That was my girlfriend.”

“Is that why you look like you just killed someone? She’s only your girlfriend, not your wife!”

I backed out of the parking lot into the dimly lit street, and we rode together in silence for five minutes or more before she suggested I drop her off at Tetteh Quarshie so she could pick a taxi.

“I’ve kept DARLING waiting long enough as it is already.” Her words dripped with disdain, but I chose to ignore her. I was not even going to fake it and insist on dropping her off at home. “Thank You.”  That was all I said. When she got down, she leaned in through the passenger side window and said, “I enjoyed every bit of this evening. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“No, listen to me, Amy, what happened should not have happened.” I was desperate to get her understand that this was a mistake.

She only laughed and walked away without looking back. I sat with my mouth gaping and watched her flag down a taxi. It was only after the taxi took off that I cursed again and drove off.

“I’ll put her in her place tomorrow.”

To be continued???

To post or not to post - that is the question

Ok, so i've been working on something and someone has convinced me to put it up...
I'm still thinking it through though. Different thoughts running through my mind - what if no one really likes it? You know, the usual...but i have a feeling the urge to put it up is going to win...so keep a tab on this blog... You just might find it up soooon!

Youth Migration

I participated in a writing competition organised by the World Bank on this topic (http://www.essaycompetition.org/index_1), and I made it to the top 200 authors out of over 1900 entries received!

Now, I wish I had put much more effort into it...I started writing this entry at about 8pm on March 17,2011..i had less than 4 hours to the submission deadline... the only thing that kept me going was the fact that I'd told myself I must submit an entry at all cost and I wasn't ready to see myself give up on something again just because I could not make the time for it...Though 200 sounds like a huge number, I still find it quite rewarding...:)

Here's the essay I submitted (it's copyrighted oooo....lol)

During a recent visit to Elmina Castle, the largest slave trade centre in the world, the tour guide took my group to the “door of no return” and recounted how people were taken to unknown lands against their will. A young man who happened to be in my group said he wished there were still slave trade as he wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of acquiring a visa and ticket before leaving the shores of Ghana.

This statement got me thinking as I realized there were many more people in my tour group who agreed with this young man. What is wrong with Ghana that the youth are so keen on leaving? And at this point, I must point out that they do not want to leave for just any country. No Ghanaian youth wants to leave for a country less developed than Ghana and I am sure this applies to youths of different nationalities the world over.

Migration exists at two major levels – at the national level where it usually takes the form of rural-urban migration, and at the international level where it takes the form of emigration or immigration. Rural-urban migration has been linked to the wide gap in development between urban and rural areas. If the world is to be viewed as the global village that it is, the low and middle income countries can be taken to be the rural areas and the high income countries as the urban areas. With this analogy, it can be seen that the factors that will push a 25 year old girl to leave her hometown in Northern Ghana for the capital Accra with nothing but her transportation fare and the optimism of a life better than what she was going through in her village where she was assured of the support of an extended family during unpleasant times such as sickness will not be much different from what will drive her counterpart in her dream destination to save all he can to get on board a flight bound for London, New York, Amsterdam, Johanesburg. More daring stories have been told of those who crossed the Sahara on foot, all in search of greener pastures.

Rural-Urban migration has had both positive and negative impacts on my life as an individual, on my community and on my country Ghana. I was born and raised in the city, and I have spent all 25 years of my life in the city. I am not well placed to argue on the difficulties of living in rural Ghana, but I have heard stories, watched movies and had the chance of spending some weekends in my village. To those who are attracted to life in the city, it is a place where their dreams of making money can be met. To a typical city girl like me, a weekend in the village is a time away from the incessant noise of the city. A time to admire nature - where the chirping of the crickets at night even sounds like music in my ears. I sometimes wonder why anyone would want to leave such a lovely place for a noisy place like Accra. It certainly cannot be because of electricity for there is now electricity in my village. It cannot be for entertainment because, night life in the villages cannot be compared with what goes on in the clubs on the streets of Accra.

As more people move from rural areas to urban areas, the facilities and amenities in these urban areas are pressurized as more people than they were designed for have to be served. Water is rationed in Accra by the utility because demand outstrips supply. Where I live in Accra, our taps flow twice in a week and arrangements have to be made to store water for the remaining 5 days of the week. Rural-urban migration alone cannot be blamed for this but the fact remains that it is a contributing factor to it. Perhaps, one of the most obvious impacts of rural-urban migration on me as an individual and on the community in which I live is this: Directly opposite my parent’s house where I live with my family on a plot of land is a small kiosk. I am not so sure of the exact dimensions but it should not exceed 3m x 4m. This structure is home to a family of about 10 – a husband, wife and their children. The point I want to make has got nothing to do with how they manage to sleep in that tiny structure but rather, has more to do with the more pressing issue of sanitation. There is no toilet facility in their home, and there is no public toilet facility in my community as it is a residential area with self-contained houses. I have woken up many times to find black polythene bags containing human excreta dragged to my front gate by dogs. It is not just the sight of this that bothers me, but also the health impacts it can have on my family and all others within my community. To be able to truly appreciate the scale of this, I have to add that there are not less than 8 families living in this kind of situation within a hundred meter radius from my house. These are all families who have relocated to the city with hopes of bettering their lives. They live in uncompleted buildings or kiosks with the inscription “Remove by Order” from the Metropolitan Authorities. They do not have water, electricity or toilet facilities, but they would rather live in that situation than move back to the villages. In the process, the communities in which they live are polluted and made prone to flooding as their wastes are left in polythene bags and dropped in the open drains.

Roadside hawking is very common on the streets of Accra, and it is in such ventures that the youth who move to the cities are engaged to make ends meet. Some run after cars to sell a sachet of water which costs 10 pesewas ( less than 5 pence), putting their own lives and those of other road users at risk. There are others who wait at the traffic lights to wipe the windscreens of drivers for a token which they might not get because all cars have windscreen wipers. The profits they make from these activities are what they use to fend for themselves. They are therefore drawn into a cycle where they make just enough to feed themselves. The perceived benefits of rural-urban migration in my opinion do not measure up to the risks. Young girls are at risk of being drawn into vices such as prostitution or at worst could be raped especially those that spend their nights on the streets. The young boys could join armed robbery gangs out of frustration.

When it comes to the issue of migration at the international level, the story is no different. I know people who are living in developed countries on expired visas. They live in constant fear of being caught by the law enforcing agencies. The developed countries have put in measures to check illegal immigration, but the illegal immigrants also better their skills at evading deportation as the days go by. There are some who as a result of their illegal status cannot even access healthcare when sick. They take to self medication.

There are people who are willing to do jobs that they would not be caught dead doing in their home countries. The reason being that those jobs pay much more than jobs that are considered as professional in their home countries. As a postgraduate student in the United Kingdom, I was faced with the opportunity of applying for a 2 year post-study work visa. I did not take up that opportunity because I had a job waiting back home for me. Most of my colleagues from other developing countries were however not that lucky. They are still in the UK as legal immigrants, sorting mails, and washing dishes at McDonalds with their Masters degrees. Most of them say they just want to make enough, and then go back home to start a business. It is very true that the amount of money they will make doing those jobs, will exceed what the average teacher for example makes in Ghana. But the question remains, Who will build the economy in their home countries for them to come down and invest the money they are making?

The figures of people who live as migrants are quite staggering. Migration cannot and must not be stopped. It can and should however be managed to ensure that people migrate for the right reasons. If governments in developing countries will invest in setting up manufacturing companies so that things such as tooth picks and matches are no longer imported but are produced locally, the issue of both rural-urban migration and international migration can be addressed effectively. If companies are set up in the rural areas to process farm produce, the youth would not move to Accra or any other city for that matter in the country to chase after cars just to get money for supper.

In my opinion, if Ghana as a country will focus on exporting partially or fully processed products, not only will there be job opportunities for school drop-outs, but graduates will also find reasons to stay home and develop the country. This is because both skilled and unskilled labour will be needed to keep these industries running.

Until then, the youth will continue wishing that slavery still existed so they can have free access to the now developed world, all with the hope of a better quality of life.

THE LITTLE THINGS WE TAKE FOR GRANTED IN LIFE

My childhood friend and neighbor's mum has been diagnosed with cancer and doctors have given her between 6months and one year to live.

Before this, cancer used to be something I only read about in storybooks and watched in movies

All of a sudden, someone I've known since my childhood has been diagnosed with it…

As a Christian, I have faith that nothing is impossible for the God we serve and I believe He can cure cancer.

All the same, this really got me thinking….

It got me thinking about the little things we take for granted in life

Most of us take for granted the little things that make life tick but without which our world would turn upside down.

We take for granted our loved ones…Yes we do!

We get so used to their presence in our lives that it is only when we are faced with the possibility of losing them that our sense of appreciation is awakened.

Most times, we take it for granted that it is the people around us that make life what it is…

Their smiles of approval and frowns of disapproval, their bursts of anger and hugs of gratitude all help make the world a "livable" place for us.

Is life fair at all?

My work has taken me to parts of Ghana I would never have ordinarily gone to. I'm presently in Yeji in the Brong Ahafo region. But yesterday, I went to places like Buom, Baaya, Adaprase, Beposo,....forgotten the names of the remaining four.

Being in those villages just made me realise I've got to be more grateful to God for where He has placed me. As I carried out a baseline survey on issues of water and sanitation with my team mates, I kept asking myself questions like: What did these people do to find themselves in such a situation in the 21st century? People still drink water directly from rivers, and only after they walk for about 5miles or more to access it. People defecate (excuse my choice of words here but I dont know any other synonyms for this) in the open, because they cannot afford to put a simple superstructure over the holes they dig to use as toilets.

Those of us living in much better conditions have to be grateful each and every time we press a handle to flush the toilet before using it just because someone peed (this word looks wrong here, but you know what I mean.) in it before us.

As one of the opninion leaders in one of the villages we went to took us to the communal latrine (which by the way was just a dug out with logs serving as footstools) I was wondering where was the dignity that each and everyone of us as human beings are entitled to. I tried imagining what happens if the Chief of the community has to use the place. I know he also uses that facility because we were made aware there were no household toilets in the whole community.

Indeed, life is not fair, and I believe it never would be fair.

The next time you're tempted to complain about the taps in your home not flowing for a week, remember that someone walks for close to 5km just to get a bucket of water for use. (i'm in no way condoning the poor services offered by our utilities though).

i opened my first blog account over one year ago and since then, this is the first time i'm posting something...

the reason i wanted to start blogging was because i've always felt i was born to be a writer. Funny enough, i've never written a complete story or even poem before!

each and every day i wake up, i say to myself, i've got to do something with my talent which i believe is writing...why do i say writing is my talent if i don't even have a half written book to my credit? i say half written book because i have written stories but i always end up half way...

writing has been something i've always dreamed of way back from junior secondary school, so why didn't i take it up and study general arts in senior secondary school and creative writing or something along that line in the uni? why did i study science and go on to study civil engineering?

i don't have the answer to that. or maybe i do. maybe it's because i've always seen writing as something i can do along side those...but unfortunately, never get the time to do...

so from today, i'm going to start doing what i always dream of doing... and that is write...when i sat behind my laptop some 20 minutes ago and signed in to my blog, i had no idea what i was going to put up. All i knew was i had to begin from somewhere and this post is where i begin from... i really hope i'll look back one day and be glad i did....