What do I call this?
Once upon a time there was me. And I was such a wonderful addition to the world that they called me Zabu. i.e. Gold. Not Kezabu, not ashanazabu, plain, in your face Zabu. That is how it is spelt in rusongora which is what I am really except that my munyankole mother brought me up with the help of her muchiga mother and II only occasionally visted the paternal grandmother who was a mutoro and so really the musongora I claim to be is based on descent from a grandfather I barely knew. And anyway, he in a bid to keep the land his grandfather gave him claims to be a munyoro so....where was I?
Oh yes, I was a wonderful addition to the world hence Zabu (Now you know the Z. The Y. is ever so boring. Think Yvonne Chaka Chaka). ANYWAY, as a toddler I was cute, cuddly and intensely adorable. I continued with this trend of wonderfulness, until I got to school where I added astoundingly intelligent to my otherwise vapid seeming accolades.
And then adoloscence reared its ugly head. And ever since I have been an internal wreck. I blame...whoever it is hardest to blame. To name a name would mark me vulnerable to those who say it is easiest to blame "name" so there. I want to fix it.
This is me trying to explain why I hated my birthday. It was not the whole growing old, losing my sexy edge thing. I personally doubt I have ever been sexy. I think I have tattooed on my forehead, INNOCENT, DO NOT DIRTY . People tend to think the best of me. All that good stuff, virgin, does not curse, likes pink. Only some of it is true but it does make my life easier. Though I could live with out the pink gifts (like that teddy frog) I hated my birthday because I was now an age where I am supposed to be many things that make me intensely discontent.
I am supposed to be wild, crazy, ignorant of repercussions and yet I fail to be. I'm tired of "supposed to be". In fact screw "supposed to be". Yeah, up yours, should, and shouldn't!
...Looking back, a slightly connected post. progress, I am making....
Once upon a time there was me. And I was such a wonderful addition to the world that they called me Zabu. i.e. Gold. Not Kezabu, not ashanazabu, plain, in your face Zabu. That is how it is spelt in rusongora which is what I am really except that my munyankole mother brought me up with the help of her muchiga mother and II only occasionally visted the paternal grandmother who was a mutoro and so really the musongora I claim to be is based on descent from a grandfather I barely knew. And anyway, he in a bid to keep the land his grandfather gave him claims to be a munyoro so....where was I?
Oh yes, I was a wonderful addition to the world hence Zabu (Now you know the Z. The Y. is ever so boring. Think Yvonne Chaka Chaka). ANYWAY, as a toddler I was cute, cuddly and intensely adorable. I continued with this trend of wonderfulness, until I got to school where I added astoundingly intelligent to my otherwise vapid seeming accolades.
And then adoloscence reared its ugly head. And ever since I have been an internal wreck. I blame...whoever it is hardest to blame. To name a name would mark me vulnerable to those who say it is easiest to blame "name" so there. I want to fix it.
This is me trying to explain why I hated my birthday. It was not the whole growing old, losing my sexy edge thing. I personally doubt I have ever been sexy. I think I have tattooed on my forehead, INNOCENT, DO NOT DIRTY . People tend to think the best of me. All that good stuff, virgin, does not curse, likes pink. Only some of it is true but it does make my life easier. Though I could live with out the pink gifts (like that teddy frog) I hated my birthday because I was now an age where I am supposed to be many things that make me intensely discontent.
I am supposed to be wild, crazy, ignorant of repercussions and yet I fail to be. I'm tired of "supposed to be". In fact screw "supposed to be". Yeah, up yours, should, and shouldn't!
...Looking back, a slightly connected post. progress, I am making....
1 comments:
I'm tired of wanting to be free, but my mind is always trapped. Trapped in an anachronistic casing. I want to live a different life, at all times, from what I am supposed to be living. And these two fight all the time, and leave me thrown in the middle.
REPLYWelcome to my world, Zabu.
hi! thanks for commenting. I'm always open to new ideas. I can't wait to hear yours.