Journal 03

I’m awake, but I’m angry. My sleep was interrupted by a call. An elderly woman called me, a mama, so I couldn’t be cross at her. I slept at 2 a.m. thereabout and her call came in at 7 a.m. I know what you’re thinking; that there are days you’ve slept for less hours, right? But every artist to his stroke. I need at least 6 hours of sleep to begin the day on a semi-happy note.

Mum isn’t at home, she travelled to attend burials and work related stuff as well (people are dying these days… bleh, people die everyday). Anyways, she’s not at home, and I’m the eldest in the house, there are three of us. So the mama is coming by later today to be with us (not necessary, but I can’t stop her).

So I had a dream, of a German crime syndicate. Their president was the youngest amongst them (can you imagine?). At first they went about stealing small stuff, then they graduated to grander crimes with age. These guys used only coins for their transactions, it was their rule. No notes, notes were banned, coins only, no matter the amount, be it millions. I found this weird though. Anyways, someone broke that rule, and there were devastating consequences; shootings and all. All because someone bought something with coins and collected the change in notes. Look, the dream was weird, I don’t know what kinda dream that was. Anyways, it felt real. You know how they say writers get most of their ideas from dreams? They are right. Our brains are good at conjuring up alternate realities.

So, I’m at home. Yes, home, not work (not exactly). I’m very sure Jobberman and Hotnigerianjobs have sent me the fake mails again. I don’t bother these days, really, but I know I can’t continue to stay at home. I’m not in any way comfortable (but comfortable enough to write). Our country needs reform (old story). I guess we are going to remain this way for quite some time. Anywho, I have two skills, which are my thinking and my writing. So I don’t like to think I’m lost in this job search thing. As you’ve noticed, I publish on every now and then. I am part of them now. They have the viewership. I get some likes too when I post on my blog — — but Storried is more widespread. Anyways, I plan on posting the stuff I post on Storried on my blog too.

So I’m still angry! Things like hours of sleep could fuck up my day. I’ve drawn the curtains so that day-freaking-light doesn’t streak in. Earlier in the morning, from 12 – 1 a.m I wrote a couple of things on my journal (journals are meant to be secret, but fuck it. I’m using a lot of ‘fuck’ in this paragraph). Anwyays, today is another day, and yay! I’m awake, I’m not dead. I was scared of closing my eyes in the night, scared I wasn’t going to wake up (you can’t blame me, there’s always the probability). Plus men die earlier than women (see how many widows we have. When last did you hear the word ‘Widower’?). Plus I have many worries in my life; job, future, and maybe girlfriend. Worries make people sleep and not wake up. Long story short, I’m awake, and not so angry anymore.


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