<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421</id><updated>2024-09-15T22:20:42.411-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ruqi Ola</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-2339439884610647566</id><published>2012-02-05T08:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T08:35:07.856-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My parents&#39; Choice? My Choice? (Part 2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;… &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;’Will you marry me Enitan?’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I was dazed. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I remembered how Yemi and I rehearsed for our proposal day, how he will go on his knees, and I will scream and jump on him. I asked myself &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Do I really want to get married to a guy I barely know? Am I ready for commitment with Ali? Am I ready to marry a guy that is not Yemi?’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; If I should say yes it would mean that Yemi and I would never ever be together. I looked to my left, I saw my father smiling. It had been ages since I saw my father smile at me. I decided to say yes because my father was happy with Ali. Deep in my heart I was weeping, all these years I had waited for Yemi’s proposal, but I got Alis’. Don’t get me wrong, Ali is a nice guy. He is cool, he is calm and he has a great sense of humor. The only problem I had was, I didn’t know him well enough, and I was not ready to come to terms with the fact that I will be spending the rest of my life with a guy other than Yemi. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;When I said YES, my father jumped with so much joy. He hugged Ali and I, you need to have seen him, he was so happy, there was excitement written all over his face.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;He started making some phone calls; it was obvious he has started planning the wedding. My mum took me to my room; she could see the pain in my eyes. She asked me &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Do you want do to this? Are you ready for this journey?’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; It then dawned on me that I was truly going on a journey, a journey of no return. There was no point changing my mind, I didn’t want to turn my father’s happiness to sadness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Ali and I got married in a grand way, when I say grand I mean GRAND. As the only girl, my father made sure the wedding was the talk of town. It was a big wedding I must say. Yemi sent me a gift, I smiled when I saw his note saying &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;’Happy Married Life Caramel’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Yemi calls me caramel because I call him honey, a nickname we gave ourselves. I replied saying thank you honey. I miss him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Ali and I went for our honeymoon in Dubai; we didn’t look like newlyweds because we were not acting like one. We only took pictures, we didn’t even make love. Well, we made love the day we were leaving Dubai, it was not all that compared to when Yemi and I make love. Our honeymoon ended well though.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Weeks after our honeymoon, Ali and I started behaving like strangers. We don’t really talk; we didn’t make love since our honeymoon. Anytime I trying caressing Ali, he shoves my hand and says he wants to rest or he is tired. I thought to myself he could be tired, at least we are going to spend the rest of our lives together, so why the rush.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I forgot a case file I needed for a meeting at home, so I had to rush back home. On getting home, the doors were locked. I opened the doors took my file and as I was heading out, I remembered I didn’t turn off the Air conditioner. I opened the room door; to my surprise who did I see.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Ali was having sex with another man on our matrimonial bed. Ali was GAY! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I woke up in the hospital, my parents and Ali were by my side. The nurse came to inform me I was pregnant. My parents were so happy; they were praying and doing all sorts. I told my parents to please excuse Ali and I. Ali was begging me, he was crying. He told me he was gay, he married me because he didn’t want people to ask questions. I started fixing the patches from the day I met Ali, the signs were glaring. I remembered the day we made love on our honeymoon; Ali wanted to make love through the anus. We argued about it, but later made love through the vagina. No wonder it sucked. The puzzle had been fixed, Ali was gay. All I felt that moment was hatred for Ali, I was Pro-Gay but I couldn’t stand Ali. I use to fight for homosexuals, but never imagined I will be married to one. I didn’t know how to break the sad and shocking news to my parents. Well, they made this choice for me, so they must find a solution for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I called in my parents, told them how grateful I was for them ruining my life, and how horrible the choice they made for me was. I thought to myself I am an adult I could have made my own choice, but why did I follow my parents choice. I was blinded with the love I had for my parents, I didn’t want them to hate me. I wanted them to love me like they always did. Now I hate my parents, I didn’t even want to see them. My mum was crying, she couldn’t find the right word to say. She was blaming my father for his egocentric religious beliefs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I went back to my parents’ house, I couldn’t tell my friends, family the reason why I left Ali. Ali should do the explanation himself, I am not ready for people to feel pity for me whatsoever. I decided to keep the baby; I cannot hurt a little innocent soul. I am currently filling for divorce; I was married for only 3 month. I never imagined my marriage could be this brief, my idea of marriage was for a lifetime. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I found out Yemi is still single, but how will I face him or his family. I know deeply well Yemi still loves me, but I don’t think I will ever forgive myself for how badly my parents and I behaved to him. If I could I reverse the hands of time, I would have disobeyed my parents marry Yemi and be happily married. They say experience is the best teacher, life taught me the hard way. One thing I learnt from my experience is &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Follow your heart’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. Forget traditions, culture, and parents’ choices; make your own choice. Because the life you would be saving is yours!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/2339439884610647566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-parents-choice-my-choice.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2339439884610647566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2339439884610647566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-parents-choice-my-choice.html' title='My parents&#39; Choice? My Choice? (Part 2)'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-6363990473210676271</id><published>2012-02-02T21:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-03T05:42:24.860-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My parents&#39; Choice?My Choice? (Part 1)</title><content type='html'>My Parent’s choice? My choice?&lt;br /&gt;
Choices? What do people know about choices?  People may think real life choices are like the multiple choice questions where all the answer are right, but only one is the best answer for the question. Real life choices are harder and tough to make.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I come from a country where our parents are like Gods, a mini-god to be precise. Before we make any choice or decision in our life&#39;s we consult our parents, their say will be paramount regardless of what we feel or want.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I met Ali when I went for a party with my mum, he was so cute, clean and cool. I was pinging my friend when I felt a tap on my shoulder ‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;hey, can I join you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?’ It was Ali; I was excited that the guy I was scoping walked up to me. I was not really in the mood of talking, but I wanted to get to know him. He had a great sense of humor. He made me laugh all through the party; even my mother was wondering what was wrong with me. We later exchanged numbers and pins.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Did I tell you I had a boyfriend? Well, I have a boyfriend. His name is Yemi. Yemi and I have been dating for 6(six) years now. Yes 6 years. We love ourselves so much and we also cannot live without each other. Yemi is my ideal man; in short he is my life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hey beauty&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;’ a message from Ali. I was shocked because it was 3 months since I saw him at the party. I replied asking how he has been doing. We chatted for hours. My mum came to my room to tell me she and my dad wanted to talk to me. I had to pause my chat with Ali. When I got to the living room, my dad was looking so serious. I was scared maybe I had done something wrong.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;My baby’&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; my dad said at first. My dad calls me his baby; I am the only girl with 4(four) brothers. I am my father’s pet. ‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Who is your boyfriend&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;?’ he asked. I was shy because my father has never asked me such question before. I replied saying ‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yemi&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;’.&lt;br /&gt;
He continued ‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I have a problem with Yemi&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.’  At first I was surprised, my dad knows Yemi so well. How come he has a problem with him now?&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;What&amp;nbsp;is the&amp;nbsp;problem daddy?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;’&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yemi is not of the same faith with us.’&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;And so, who cares?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;’ I said.&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;We care. Over my dead body will you marry someone from another religion.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;’ He said with so much anger. I have never seen my father this furious. I was wondering maybe the way I spoke was rude or maybe Yemi annoyed him.&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Daddy, I am so sorry if I got you angry, but you have to explain to me what the problem is. Yemi and I have been dating for 6(six) years and we will be 7(seven) years in 2(two) months ti…&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;’ my father cuts me short.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Shut that foolish mouth of yours. You even have the audacity to tell me that you will be 7 years soon. You cannot marry him; I do not want to know the amount of years you have been dating. All I know is that you cannot marry him. Period!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;’ He said and walked out of the living room. I was astounded. Tears rolling down my chubby cheeks. It was like I never knew my father. My mum pets me and hurriedly followed my father. I felt my world crumbling in front of me. All I could see was my 6 years with Yemi going down the drain. Yemi is my life, he is my soul mate. I cannot imagine my life without him.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I saw missed calls from Yemi, he had been calling me. I didn’t know whether to call him back or to ignore. I didn’t want to behave nasty to him because he would know something is wrong with me. I sent him a message saying I was not feeling too well. Before I knew it Yemi was at my house. I heard the customized honk he does whenever he arrives. As he entered the living room, he met my dad. He prostrated as a guy will do when he wants to greet someone older than him. My dad didn’t respond. He later turned to Yemi and said ‘&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Yemi please do me a favor. Leave Enitan alone. She cannot marry you. I will never give my daughter to you&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;.’ Yemi couldn’t say a word. In between sobs I told Yemi to please go home.  I could see the pain on Yemi’s face as he walked out of the door and my life.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
As seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months goes by my heart yearned for Yemi. My world had always revolved around Yemi that I couldn’t imagine spending it without him. My father started ignoring me; whenever I try talking to him he pays no attention to me.  I became so scared of my father; he was like a stranger that I was just getting to know. I didn’t know what to do to make him talk or even look at me. I went to meet my mum to please talk to my father, she said she has tried that I have to do what my father wants. I told her how sad dad’s decision is making me feel. She said &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;‘Parents are mini-gods for a reason. Respect your fathers’ decision.’ &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I thought to myself, do I make my choice or follow my parents’ choice even though I know their choice hurts me badly? I love my parents so much; I do not want to hurt their feelings. I will rather get hurt than make them hate me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I decided to follow my parents’ choice, I totally ignored Yemi. I stopped picking his calls, stopped replying his messages and even stopped all communication with him and his family. Yemi&#39;s parents, siblings, friends and family were always calling to apologize, but I didn’t change my decision.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I got a message from Ali while I was at work saying he wanted to see me that it was urgent. I was surprised what could be so urgent that he could not say on the phone. I got home and I met Ali in my living room. I was speechless, but later asked &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&#39;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;what are you doing here?’&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;. He said he couldn’t wait that he had to come over to my house. My dad was in the living room, he looked happy. He was even smiling at me. Before I could say jack, Ali was on his knees &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;‘Will you marry me Enitan?’&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;…</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/6363990473210676271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-parents-choicemy-choice-part-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/6363990473210676271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/6363990473210676271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-parents-choicemy-choice-part-1.html' title='My parents&#39; Choice?My Choice? (Part 1)'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-1090779261609619342</id><published>2011-11-12T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-12T11:56:37.185-08:00</updated><title type='text'>&quot;I was raped&quot;</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&#39;Where are you coming from? Where have you been? Library again? You this girl will not kill yourself with books, I have told you several times to stop staying late in the library. Don&#39;t worry my dear you will pass the Bar exams. I need you to rest.&#39; ...That was what my lovely mother was saying as I walked through those doors into the house. How I wish she knew how shattered I was. I couldn&#39;t tell her what just happened to me some hours ago. My mother grabbed me a towel and she wrapped me up, I was soaked from head to toe. I went to my room to take a wash.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;I was at the bus station waiting for a bus when some guys came to join me. As time went by, they started teasing me, calling me names like &#39;Sister Mary&#39; &#39;how good are you on bed?&#39;. At first, I was scared but I prayed and wished a bus could come quickly. As time goes by the teasing started annoying me, then a lanky dark guy grappled me. Before I knew it the other guys joined and they took me into the bush. At first I was shouting, screaming, yelling doing all sorts to make me forget the horrible ordeal that was happening to me but I lost my strength. All I felt was pain. I never wished my first time will be this painful. Every girl&#39;s wish is that her husband breaks her hymen; mine was broken by some guys that I do not even know. Guys I do not know whether they had STD&#39;s or AIDs... I passed out I guess.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;I woke up with pains, it was raining heavily. I guess that was what woke me up. I wished death had taken me away to a land of no return. How do I face my parents, family and friends? Who do I tell what just happened to me? I cried my eyes out wishing the ground could open up to swallow me. I have heard of people being raped but I never knew I would be a victim one day.&amp;nbsp; I summoned courage to go home to tell my family what just happened to me. Buses started flooding the street, I was so angry. I was thinking &#39;where were you when I needed you?’.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;I rang the bell; I was greeted with a warm lovely smile from my mom. I thought to myself &#39;why should I turn this smile to sadness?&#39; She got me a towel and gave me a cup of hot tea. I was crying deep inside me, I couldn&#39;t tell her what just happened. I went to my room to take a wash. I cried, cried and cried till I fell asleep.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;I was so weak and tired the next morning, I stood up to say my morning prayer to God, to ask him why he allowed that horrible act happen to me his one and only lovely daughter. I screamed and cried while praying, I poured out my heart to God to show me a way to move on with my shattered life. My mum ran to my room when she heard me screaming &#39;What is my dear?&#39; she said in my native language. With tears in my eyes I hugged my mum and told her everything. She cried and told me everything will be fine. She said she was going to call the police but I told her not to let the world know what just happened to me. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;For days, week, months, my mum was always there for me, she followed me to the hospital to flush my womb. I did various test to make sure I didn’t get any kind of disease from those guys. She was always soothing me. When I couldn&#39;t study for my Bar exam, she will encourage me to strive hard. I was so sad that I always blamed my Bar exams for what happened to me. I finally took the Bar exams and to my surprised I passed. I started getting calls from law firms saying they will like to employ me. It then dawned on me that I should become an activist for women and children. I went online to Google up organization, law firms that fight for women and children.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;3years after, I am sitting in my office sharing my story with you today. I became a Family law attorney; I fought cases for women, ladies and children that have experienced my type of situation. Now I know what God had in store for me, he wanted me to be an advocate for women, ladies, and children without voices. I became an advisor for people that could not face the world, I made them understand that no matter how bad your situation you can always achieve your goals. I held lectures in schools, mosques, churches, offices and conferences to enlighten people about things they didn&#39;t know about rape victims. People usually blame rape victims for the act that happens to them, but that is not right. You cannot blame people for what happens to them, no one ever wishes to be rape. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;Rape is a horrible experience I always wish I could forget but it keeps coming back once in a while. With my experience as a victim and a lawyer I can now give women of all ages who have been through my experience voices to fight for themselves, to let them know they don&#39;t have to keep it a secret like I did, they should come out so we can all fight and say no to RAPE.&amp;nbsp; I am so euphoric and comfort with the fact I am playing a big part in the war against Rape and the abuse of women, ladies and children of all ages so that they don&#39;t have to walk through the door like I did many years ago with sad tears in their eyes. Sharing my story made me feel a lot better and I hope you share yours.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;Say No to RAPE! Say No to RAPE!! Say No to RAPE!!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;Body1&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 150%; text-align: justify;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/1090779261609619342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-got-raped.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1090779261609619342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1090779261609619342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/11/i-got-raped.html' title='&quot;I was raped&quot;'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-1521298005197210217</id><published>2011-09-24T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T09:07:40.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wrong Turn</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;We all have made that one wrong turn we all wish we never took. The turn that either cost us our life, future or families. The wrong turn either makes us stronger or weaker...This post (The wrong turn) was inspired by Kati Kim’s story (Wrong Turn&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;). Kati Kim’s improbable survival story.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: #F9F9F9; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;The story is so touching; it made me realize how wonderful God is. God watches us all day and he is always by our sides, he protects us from all evil that want to harm us. God is so so so wonderful.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Kati, James and their two children (Penelope and Sabine) Kim went to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;Seattle, Washington&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;for thanksgiving holiday (25th of November, 2006). On their way back to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;California&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;San Francisco&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;where they reside, the Kim’s missed a turnoff from Interstate 5 to&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;Oregon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;Route 42, a main route to the Oregon coast. Instead of returning to the exit, they consulted a highway map and picked a secondary route that skirted the wild rouge wilderness, a remote area of southwestern Oregon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;It was during winter, so they encountered a very heavy snow when they made a turn by mistake to bear camp, a road that leads to nowhere. A road that was loosely paved, it is like driving to the end of the world. The road had a gate that was to be closed but because of some people that may have gone in by mistake, the gate was opened.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;After driving and driving, the family finally stopped due to fatigue and bad weather.&amp;nbsp; Snow started falling and it immobilized their car a station wagon, the Kim’s kept warm by running its engine. There was no reception for them to make a call. They were there for 3days with neither water nor food. Kati Kim had to breastfeed her 4year old child and her 3months old baby; she was practically turning her body to calories for her children (mother’s love and God’s guidance).&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;When the vehicle ran out of fuel, they made a campfire of dried wood, magazines and Penelope’s favorite teddy bear. The friends and family of Kati Kim were worried as to why they hadn&#39;t call to them they were home, they called their cell phone but all to no avail.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Later, they burned their car&#39;s tires to signal rescuers. Hoping someone will see them in the wilderness. Search efforts began on the 30&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; of November 2006, Mr. Kim&#39;s father, Spencer Kim, spent several days looking for the family along area highways and roads, all to no avail. After 7 days with no water or food, James Kim decided to go get help for his family.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;The search for the Kim’s family was still going on. After 2days when James did not return Kati decided to go and get help too, she carried her two children along with her.&amp;nbsp; As they were walking on a lonely road, a volunteer local pilot sighted Kati and her two children on the 4th of December, 2006. The rescue team came to help them. Kati asked for James and the rescue team said they didn&#39;t see him. James was now missing. They had to track the route he took.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;On the 6th of December 2006, James Kim’s body was found lying by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;Big windy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;creek. He had died, he died of hypothermia (a condition in which core temperature drops below the required temperature for normal metabolism and body functions which is defined as 35.0 °C (95.0&amp;nbsp;°F).). He wanted to get help for his family but his body was so weak, he needed fluids to get him going but he had none because he had been dehydrated for days.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;People where asking why didn&#39;t they turn back to where they coming from? Why didn&#39;t James turn back when he didn&#39;t get help? So many whys? You can’t blame someone for the&amp;nbsp;trying to help his family. Don’t ever blame someone for his or her situation because you don’t know what they going through. There is this Yoruba adage that says “Eni kan lomo” it simply means “You can’t know how it feels except you are the affected person”. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;10 whole days in a car without food or water during winter with two little children that are so fragile, can’t you see God is wonderful? He was with the Kim’s all through their trying period. After watching the documentary of what happened to the Kim’s, I asked myself would I have done in that situation and then I realize I will hope in God because there is no on else to turn to than him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;Let us all be grateful for the air that we breathe, it is only by Gods doing. Let us always remember that there is only one God and he is always watching us. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;h1 style=&quot;line-height: 19.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;Sorry to bore you with my story, I just wanted to share a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; letter-spacing: -0.6pt;&quot;&gt;Harrowing Ordeal of a family I read and watched. Continue to Rest in Peace James Kim.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h1&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;background: white; color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;&quot;&gt;For more information about Kati Kim’s story check &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Kim&quot;&gt;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Kim&lt;/a&gt; or you could watch the documentary on &lt;a href=&quot;http://abcnews.go.com/2020/kati-kim-tells-heart-wrenching-story-family-ended/story?id=12884927&quot;&gt;http://abcnews.go.com/2020/kati-kim-tells-heart-wrenching-story-family-ended/story?id=12884927&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/1521298005197210217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/09/wrong-turn.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1521298005197210217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1521298005197210217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/09/wrong-turn.html' title='The Wrong Turn'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-1982480836311862804</id><published>2011-06-11T05:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T06:05:24.637-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pains of the Past.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Mo was always falling ill and we really couldn’t say what was going wrong with her. Her father decided to take her to U.K. for an intensive check-up. We later found out Mo was SS. How can that be possible? Her dad is AA and I am AS. Well, Mo’s dad was curious because he is AA. We all did some blood test and DNA test…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;16 years ago when I was in London shopping for my wedding, I saw someone that I had lost contacts with all this years. It was Robert my Ex-boyfriend, I was so elated to see him and he was also elated to see me. We chatted for a while and exchanged numbers. I told him I was shopping for my wedding and I hope he will come. As Robert was leaving I felt some part of me was leaving too, I couldn’t fathom what was happening but I could tell I wanted to go with Robert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Robert was my&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot; id=&quot;lw_1307796542_0&quot;&gt;first love&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;or rather let me say the first guy I ever slept with, the guy I lost my priceless gift to. He was my one and only and I was also his one and only then. I met Robert when I was doing my registration in the university and he didn’t know how to do his registration.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;So I helped him out and that was how we became friends. We became so close that we started sleeping at each other’s apartment, we go to school together and we go almost everywhere together.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;The turning point in our relationship started when we found out that we were both AS, we decided to end the relationship because we didn’t want to have children that will be going through pain and all. It wasn’t easy at first but we later got use to the separation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Before I left the bridal store where I saw Robert, I called him. I told him I wanted us to have a drink and chat since we have not seen for some years now. We later met at a bar and we drank and chat till we were drunk, we were so cheerful together. I told him how I met my fiancé and how he proposed. Robert told me he has not moved on since our split,&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘It is not easy finding a girl like you, sweetheart. No one can ever fill your space in my heart.’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;That night was the best night of our lives; we later went to Robert’s hotel. He held my hand and told me&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;‘&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot; id=&quot;lw_1307796542_1&quot;&gt;Sweetheart&lt;/span&gt;, I will always love you.’&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Those words made me emotional; Robert is very romantic, the kind of guy every woman would want as a husband but circumstances did not allow it to happen for us. I told Rob, I will always love him too. We kissed and before we knew it, we were having sex. I didn’t feel guilty that I was cheating on my fiancé; all I wanted at that moment was to make Robert and myself happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_3_130780013615597&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_3_130780013615594&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;After the hot sex, we laughed about it and promised we won’t see each other again and that we would not look for each other. As I was walking to my hotel, I felt guilty about what I just did. I said to myself&amp;nbsp;&lt;b id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_3_130780013615591&quot;&gt;&lt;i id=&quot;yui_3_2_0_3_130780013615588&quot;&gt;‘Don’t feel bad, you are not going to do it again. Be happy woman, you are getting married in 3days time. Everybody has that one little secret. At least you don’t know what your fiancé is doing at the moment. Be happy.’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I deleted Robert’s number and tried not to remember what just happened. I got married to my lovely husband; we had our honeymoon in a very beautiful country. All the memories of Robert has been wiped away, my husband was far better than Robert. He is very caring and romantic. We now have 3 lovely children. I named my last child Rob, because he reminded me so much of Robert.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I saw the other side of my husband after DNA result came out and we found out he was not the father of Mo. I have not cheated on him. How will he not be the father of Mo. I started doing calculations and it dawned on me that the fling I had with Robert before my wedding was the production of Mo. I couldn’t tell my husband what I just found out but I summoned the courage to tell him. He couldn’t believe it and he left the house that day. I could not tell anyone what had happened, I tried calling my husband but all his phones were off. He finally called and said he wanted a divorce. I begged him to please consider our children; he said all he wanted was a divorce.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;After two weeks, I got a letter from my husband he had already filed for divorce. I called my mum and told her all that happened. She got me a lawyer to fight for the custody of my two children. I got the custody of my children and my marriage was declared dissolved because of one silly mistake of mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv926339838MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I just realized that my foolishness and selfishness have destroyed both my beautiful home and my marriage. I have learnt the hard way, that there&#39;s no point sticking to past relationships. We should avoid our Ex(s) at all cost and if in any way we come in contact, we should not stir up old memories or create the atmosphere. The&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: sans-serif;&quot;&gt;PAST&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;should not in any way affect our&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: sans-serif;&quot;&gt;FUTURE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;which of course will become our&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong style=&quot;font-weight: bold;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: sans-serif;&quot;&gt;TODAY.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: &#39;times new roman&#39;, &#39;new york&#39;, times, serif; font-size: 16px;&quot;&gt;&lt;var id=&quot;yiv926339838yui-ie-cursor&quot;&gt;&lt;/var&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/1982480836311862804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/06/pains-of-past.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1982480836311862804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1982480836311862804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/06/pains-of-past.html' title='Pains of the Past.'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-3042933861474258663</id><published>2011-06-02T10:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-02T10:54:29.956-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What can I say?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I signed up to the latest social network everyone has been talking about, Twitter. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;Twitter was not really my thing because you have to follow and follow before you can enjoy it and if people don’t follow you back you can’t send them DM (Direct Message), strange. Well, I got used to it and I can say I like it but you have to be jobless to enjoy it because you have to keep up to the pace of your TL (TimeLine).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;During the weekend I get more time to tweet, this particular weekend a handle (profile name) caught my attention. The handle was weird but the avatar was eye-catching, I followed the pretty lady and asked her for a follow back, which she did. We started tweeting each other, later we migrated to DM and later we exchanged pins. I became a twi-addict because of her, at work I will run to the toilet to tweet or ping her and she will also do the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;It sounded strange when I told my buddies that I had fallen in love with a girl I met on twitter but I knew what my heart wanted and it was her. My heart yearn for her each day as we chat and ping. We finally exchanged numbers after 4months of DM’s and pinging. I couldn’t wait to hear her voice; I was imagining different kind of voice that could sound like her… I finally called her and the first word she said made me strong (you know what I mean)&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;’Hey, I have been waiting for your call’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; she said… We chatted and chatted till we were tired. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I decided to take our friendship to another level; I travelled to meet her where she was staying. She was more beautiful in real life than her avatar or pictures I see. She took me to her friends and she spoke so well about me, no one will ever believe we were just meeting in real life for the first time. We went out for dinner. She later dropped me at the hotel. I wanted to have sex with her so bad but I have to respect myself and be a gentleman that I am.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;The next day we went to meet her parents and she introduced me has her boyfriend. Wow, I was scared because I didn’t know how to tell them we met via twitter. They were so nice to me and asked about my parents, we all left on a beautiful note. She went to drop me at the hotel and this time she followed me to my room. She told me she loved and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. I told her I wanted the same too. We had the best sex of our lives, although she was a novice (virgin) but I made it worthwhile for her. The sex made me thinking,&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;’ this is it; this is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. She looked so beautiful as I watch her sleep off in my arms’. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I called my best friend and told him I have found my missing ribs, he didn’t believe me because he knew I was a joker but this time I was dead serious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I went back home and couldn’t get her off my mind, her parents called to know if I landed safely and all. They treated me like their son and it even made me closer to her. I became less active on twitter and we continued our beautiful relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Did I tell you she can cook? She is the best cook after my mother. When I took her home to meet my parents, she was so lively with them. She and my mom even had a cooking competition which she won. Mom and dad were so happy. She was so homely, neat and nice. After she went back home mom and dad asked me ‘&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;What next?’ . &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;They also couldn’t wait for me to marry her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I finally took the bold step when we both travelled to Dubai, a place she always wanted to go, it was a great opportunity for me… I proposed to her on my bended kneels in the desert after we had a bumpy desert ride. She was just crying, tears of joy I hope. She said ‘Yes’. I kissed her hand and put the ring in her finger. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Months after the proposal, I am waiting at the altar for my beautiful soon-to-be-bride to walk down that aisle to me her soon-to-be-groom. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;As she walked down that aisle ‘I was like wow!’ I am so sure the priest heard me, my best man smiled at me. She looked like an angel; she was soooooooo beautiful. The knot was tied and we walked down the aisle as a couple…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;What can I say? All I can say is thank you God for helping find my missing ribs. People may say internet love doesn’t work but mine worked. I will always be grateful to my best friend that told me to sign up for twitter, without him I wouldn’t have found my sweetheart. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;She is my all in all, we have our good and bad times but we learn each day. My wife is now preggie. I am so elated… Later tweeties, I will keep you posted whether it would be a boy or a girl or even twins or maybe triplet, what can I say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/3042933861474258663/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-can-i-say.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/3042933861474258663'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/3042933861474258663'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/06/what-can-i-say.html' title='What can I say?'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-6740776489699911951</id><published>2011-05-31T10:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-31T11:31:53.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Indeed, a strong woman...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I sit in front of my mother’s gravestone with tears in my eyes; all I could think of was how strong she was during all those punches, slaps and beatings of her life she gets from my father. She will always smile at us whenever we see her on the floor crying and say &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Tears of joy’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. It made me think everyone that cries were happy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;One day I saw mom’s eyes swollen and when I asked her what happened, she said &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Tambolo (ant) bit me’. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I was little then so I believed mom, it even made me scared of tambolo because I didn’t want to have a swollen eye like mom, the sight was gruesome. Mom always had something to say anytime we noticed a scar on her. The other day she had a swollen cheek; she said she was hiding her scotch egg from us …lol&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;As I grew older I started to feel the pain mom was going through, mom’s screams, wails, pains and all were unbearable. After every beating mom gets from dad, dad will take us out to a lovely restaurant. He will get flowers for mom and sing for her. It made we ponder for a while who this man was. I couldn’t get a nomenclature for him. He was the best dad and also the worst person on earth.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Whenever I tell mom &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘I hate daddy’, &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;she will tell me that &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘you will not understand now my dear, when you grow older, you will understand better’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;was all she will say whenever I talk to her. What wont I understand was all I was thinking of, is it the beatings mom gets from dad or the affections he showers after every beating? I pondered. I loved dad and also I hate him. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I will never forget February 14&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt;, in the evening when dad pushed mom down the stairways. Mom was pregnant; she was also carrying Lilly, my younger sister. I still remember all that happened that night. Mom did not get dad what he expected for Valentine’s Day and he got mom what she wanted, that was all. Mom begged and begged but all fell to dad’s deaf ears, he just pushed mom and before I knew it. All I saw was a pool of blood, Lilly’s and moms’ blood. Mom lost the pregnancy and Lilly died. It was a sad year for my family; we didn’t tell anyone what dad did. We just said mom slipped. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Mom lost 3 pregnancies because of the beatings and punches she got from dad. I couldn’t tell anyone what mom was going through, I couldn’t even tell my friends that I was in pain. Anytime grandma comes she leaves with tears, she will warn dad and tell mom to leave dad but mom will say ‘&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;I love him, he is the father of my lovely children’.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; Love? Is that what people call love? Beating? Punches? If beating and punching is the definition of love I don’t ever want to fall in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I overheard Aunty Shelia (mom’s best friend) telling mom that dad cannot change, she said &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Michael has been like this since university and after marriage and all, he has still not change. He can never change sweetheart. I love you and I don’t want to lose you. Please end this marriage. Think of the psychological trauma your child is going through. This is not Love, this is lust. Lilly and Carla are dead do you want to lose your last child because of love. If you don’t end this marriage, I will end it for you’.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; Mom and Aunty Sheila argued, aunty Sheila left in tears. I could place my mind on what to do. Should I run to grandma, should I kill dad? Was all I was pondering after I overheard mom and Aunty Sheila.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Dad has been beating mom before they married, if I remember clearly dad and mom have been married for 18years and they dated for 3years, that’s 21 years of beating and punching. My mom was indeed a strong woman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I got back from school for the Christmas break and I found mom on the floor crying, she was just telling me to take good care of myself and dad, that she will always love us. I was asking her what happened, I had to call my neighbor to help me carry mom to the hospital. Before we got to the hospital mom was gone, gone as in gone forever. I will never see her again; she never wanted me or my late younger siblings to be sad. She died smiling, smiling that she is going to a better place where there is no pain, punch or beatings but just peace. I couldn’t cry, I called grandma and Aunty Sheila to tell them mom was in the hospital, I couldn’t summon the courage to tell them mom was dead as a result of the beatings she got from dad…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;The burial went well and everyone spoke well about mom even the wicked father of mine. I couldn’t sleep for days, I always dreamt of dad beating mom and mom in white smiling at me. The whole burial week was a miserable week for me. Who will I live with? How will I cope? With God by my side, I will be strong; I will move forward, nothing is going to hold me back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I wipe my tears and say this to my fellow ladies &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘. Love has no constant definition. It can be defined in different meanings. My mom’s definition was staying with the man you love even though he beats you like a pumpkin. My mom knew my dad could not change and she stayed with him till he killed her. Is that love? If your boyfriend beats you while you are still dating and you call that love, then you are going into a big pit. Take him for counseling or better still leave him. I know women can be annoying but men should be patient too. My mom got beaten for 22years and the reasons most times were just pointless. Well, I don’t have any definition for love. I will never fall in love. I will never marry. I will go and help train children in the orphanage, mom always loved kids. So that’s what I will do with my remaining years on earth.’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/6740776489699911951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-mothers-pain.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/6740776489699911951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/6740776489699911951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/my-mothers-pain.html' title='Indeed, a strong woman...'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-2710875374655919026</id><published>2011-05-20T21:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-23T12:30:48.089-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It&#39;s complicated.</title><content type='html'>&lt;sdt contentlocked=&quot;t&quot; id=&quot;89512093&quot; sdtgroup=&quot;t&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 1pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;sdtpr&gt;&lt;/sdtpr&gt;&lt;sdt docpart=&quot;ECAE1C44E9A548C293EC1BEB4EB3CA09&quot; id=&quot;89512082&quot; storeitemid=&quot;X_3DBBD3C3-045C-4F73-83A9-2CC8BC73FB01&quot; text=&quot;t&quot; title=&quot;Post Title&quot; xpath=&quot;/ns0:BlogPostInfo/ns0:PostTitle&quot;&gt;&lt;/sdt&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/sdt&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;Publishwithline&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;I am at the embassy, waiting for the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1305845974_0&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;white lady&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;to call me to submit my passport for my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1305845974_1&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;immigrant visa&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;PadderBetweenControlandBody&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&#39;IV65&#39;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, she calls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;I stand up to meet her,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&#39;Hello ma&#39;am, your DNA does not match your fathers DNA&#39;.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;I feel like slapping the lady, at the same time I am lost in thoughts ‘&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Like really? My fathers&#39; DNA does not match mine? How na? There must be a mistake somewhere jor&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.’ I ask the lady if there is a mix-up somewhere, and she confirms her report is straight from the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1305845974_2&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;Homeland Security&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;in U.S.A. She advised that I come with my father next time for a second test. I leave in utter shock. &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Never, daddy is my daddy. No way!’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;I call mum and dad, telling them there is a problem I could not explain on the phone. I get home, head straight to my room where I cry my eyes out of their socket. To me, my world was crashing right before me in ways I couldn’t fathom. Mum and dad barge into my room, asking what the problem was. I finally gather the strength in between sobs to tell them what I was told at the embassy. Dad stands up and looks at mum with so much fury, saying &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&#39;Sweetheart, you have some explanations to do&#39;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; I tell them that it&#39;s definitely a mistake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;Otunba Tunji called to let me know he was in town, he noticed I was down and asked me what the problem was. I told him, he said that was a small issue and he would link me up with his friends in the Embassy. It just clicked that I had some top-dog aristos a.k.a sugar daddies that I could call. I started calling them; Chief Obi gave me someone&#39;s number at the embassy that I could contact. Alhaji Bukola told me to come and collect a note from him, which I did. I went to see Otunba Tunji the next day at his place, as usual we had fun. After which, he made some calls on my behalf and gave me some contacts to get in touch with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;Α month later, dad and I went for the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1305845974_3&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;DNA test&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;; I had called every single contact I got from my sugar-daddies before going for the test. We went to the hospital and did the DNA test again. Within two months, I received a call asking me to come for an interview at the embassy. I was so happy that I called all my sugar-daddies to thank them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;At the embassy, I was shining my 32 teeth; so happy that I would finally get to see my younger ones. My number was called and I went to meet the lady.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&#39;Ma&#39;am your DNA does not match this man&#39;s DNA’.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; I told her to repeat what she just said because it was like all I heard her speak was in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1305845974_4&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;Greek&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;. I thanked her and left. I didn&#39;t call anyone. While I was driving home, I remembered one part in our high school slum book that said: &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘If you find out that the Father you always lived with is not your father, what you will do?’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; .I have spent 26years of my life with this lovely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1305845974_5&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;father of mine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;and I can&#39;t imagine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1305845974_6&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;living with someone&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;else…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;When I got home I saw mum and dad in the living room, mum was crying. I asked what happened and dad told me to sit down, mum said &lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘my love, daddy is not your daddy’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. I said ‘&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;It’s a lie. I have heard but I do not believe’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. I ran to my room crying, I started throwing up and my temperature was high.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;Mum and dad came to wake me up the next morning; they said they were sorry for what I was going through. I told them I was feeling sick and I want to see a doctor. I went to the hospital and did some test. When I got home, I asked mum who my so-called real dad was. She said she will tell me when I am a lot better.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;I went to the hospital the next day to get my result, I found out I was pregnant.&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘For who?’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;was what I was pondering. I could not tell mum and dad what my result had confirmed. I just told them it was not ready. In my room, I pondered who impregnated me, could it be my aristo’s or Dele I had a quickie with at the club last month.&amp;nbsp; I slept off while pondering. My phone woke me up it was Chief Obi calling; he wanted to see me that night. I told him I couldn’t make it because I was not feeling too well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;In room I pondered,&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘should I have an abortion? No ooooooo, what if I die nkan. Ok, let me just take the&amp;nbsp;bold step&amp;nbsp;and tell mum and dad. Who will I tell them impregnated me?’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;As I was pondering mum came to my room to tell me that my so-called real dad was in the living room. To my surprise, who did I see…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;I woke up and found myself in the hospital, mum, dad and my so-called real dad who also happens to be my&amp;nbsp;sugar daddy, Otunba Tunji, crying by my bedside. Tears were flowing down my eyes, I couldn’t tell them what was making me cry. I struggled so hard to smile but tears still kept flowing but this time faster than before. I was screaming and wailing, I just wanted to give up the ghost; I wanted the floor to swallow me, I couldn’t look at my parents. I was thinking&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘How will I tell them that I was pregnant for my so-called real dad, who also happens to be my sugar-daddy.’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;Everyone left me alone with mum; she hugged me and told me I will be fine. I told her she will not understand. I closed my eyes and told mum I was pregnant, she said she knew. I hugged her so tight and whispered to her ears&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘I’m pregnant for Otunba Tunji’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. She pushed me away and gave me a dirty slap.&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘How could you? How did it happen? No, no.’&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;that was all she said as she walked out of my hospital room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: 12pt;&quot;&gt;I sit on my bed with my fingers in my mouth. I said to myself&amp;nbsp;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;‘What did I put myself into? Am I about to make the&amp;nbsp;same mistake&amp;nbsp;my mother made 26years ago? No way, I will never lie to my child, but how will I tell my child that my father is also her father. The only way to end this question is to abort this child but I will be killing a soul that may grow up to be a president or princess. I am going to abort this baby and that is it. No turning back, I’m only saving us from a worse future scenario.’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt;A &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt;Great man once said:&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt; &lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;Mistakes are a part of being human. Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons that can only be learned the hard way. Unless it&#39;s a fatal mistake, which, at least, others can learn from&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;’&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: windowtext; text-decoration: none;&quot;&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt;I have learnt from my mistake and I hope you learn from mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/2710875374655919026/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-complicated.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2710875374655919026'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2710875374655919026'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-complicated.html' title='It&#39;s complicated.'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-5805151765832271229</id><published>2011-05-06T21:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-07T06:38:37.841-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Strangers, again</title><content type='html'>I came across this video on&amp;nbsp;YouTube&amp;nbsp;and I decided to share. Although it was my lovely brother that told me about it. I learnt from it and I hope you all will learn from it. I learnt that everything in life have stages, how we cross each stage is left to us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
STRANGERS, AGAIN&lt;br /&gt;
Every relationship goes through stages. Where and how each stage develops is ultimately up to each person. While we always hope for the best,we often can&#39;t avoid the inevitable. Josh and&amp;nbsp;Marrissa&amp;nbsp;are at a crossroads and their future is uncertain. Josh will guide us through each stage of the relationship as it formed and as he predicts it will end up as. ENJOY!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;iframe allowfullscreen=&#39;allowfullscreen&#39; webkitallowfullscreen=&#39;webkitallowfullscreen&#39; mozallowfullscreen=&#39;mozallowfullscreen&#39; width=&#39;320&#39; height=&#39;266&#39; src=&#39;https://www.youtube.com/embed/tSdELZxEnHY?feature=player_embedded&#39; frameborder=&#39;0&#39;&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Hope you Enjoyed it? So did you learn from it? NO? Well, I did.*shrug*</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/5805151765832271229/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/strangersagain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/5805151765832271229'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/5805151765832271229'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/strangersagain.html' title='Strangers, again'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-2210508756882932800</id><published>2011-05-05T11:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T11:49:39.917-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Letter from Mom and Dad.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;My Lovely Child,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;When I get old, I hope you understand and have patience with me. In case I break a plate, or spill soup on the table because I’m losing my eyesight, I hope you don’t yell at me. Older people are sensitive… always having self-pity when you yell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;When my hearing gets worse and I can’t hear what you’re saying, I hope you don’t call me “DEAF!” please repeat what you said or write it down. I’m sorry, my child… I’m getting older.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;When my knees get weaker, I hope you have the patience to help me get up. Like how I use to help you while you were little, learning how to walk. Please bear with me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;When I keep repeating myself like a broken record, I hope you just keep listening to me. Please don’t make fun of me, or get sick of listening to me. Do you remember when you were little and you wanted a doll and a balloon? You repeated yourself over and over until you got what you wanted.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;…Please also pardon my smell. I smell like an old person. Please don’t force me to shower. My body is weak. Old people get sick easily when they’re cold. I hope I don’t gross you out. Do you remember when you were little? I use to chase you around because you didn’t want to shower.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I hope you can be patient with me when I’m always cranky; it’s all part of getting old. You’ll understand when you’re older. And if you have spare time, I hope we can talk even for a few minutes. I’m always all by myself all the time and have no one to talk to. I know you’re busy with work. Even if you’re not interested in my stories, please have time for me. Do you remember when you were little? I used to listen to your stories about your teddy bear and batman.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;When the time comes and I get ill and bedridden, I hope you have the patience to take care of me. I’m sorry, if I accidentally wet the bed or make a mess. I hope you have the patience to take care of me during the last few moments of my life. I’m not going to last much longer, anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;When the time of death comes, I hope you hold my hand and give me the strength to face death. And don’t worry… When I finally meet our creator I will whisper in his ear to BLESS you because you loved your Mom and Dad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Thank you so much for your care. We love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-tab-count: 10;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;With much love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-tab-count: 4;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-tab-count: 6;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;Mom and Dad&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
I just wanted to share this with y&#39;all...Hope you learn from it.Thanks. &lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/2210508756882932800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/letter-from-mom-and-dad.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2210508756882932800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2210508756882932800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/letter-from-mom-and-dad.html' title='A Letter from Mom and Dad.'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-8696567199630518304</id><published>2011-05-02T11:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-05-02T11:54:25.887-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Teenage Pregnancy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Teenage pregnancy is very rampant in our generation today. So many people to blame for it but we can’t blame people for our own mistakes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Teenage pregnancy is 100% preventable if we take preventive measures. I always imagined what if the guy you had unprotected sex with was HIV positive do you know you will be infected.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I went to the hospital one day to see a friend that just gave birth, and I saw a 14 year old pregnant HIV patient who came for ante-natal care. She didn’t know she had the virus because the young lad that&amp;nbsp;she had unprotected sex&amp;nbsp;with didn’t tell her he had the virus and he also did not protect himself neither did she. After series of test,&amp;nbsp;she&amp;nbsp;found out&amp;nbsp;she had the killer virus that could endanger the baby in her womb. If she had prevented herself, she wouldn’t have gotten the virus and also the pregnancy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;I always respect teenagers that keep their pregnancy because they took the bold step to save a life instead of aborting it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, &amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Teen pregnancy is one of the most difficult experiences a young person might ever face when it interrupts school or other plans. It can create an emotional crisis resulting in feelings of shame and fear, and it may appear that you will crumble under pressures in your environment. The stress of how you are going to break this news to your parents might be even greater, and finding help may seem an impossible task.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;However, denying the pregnancy or ignoring it can only make things worse for you and your baby. Denial will not take the pregnancy away; instead, you will lose the time you could have invested in prenatal care and counseling. You have options, and making a choice may be simple or difficult, depending on your situation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;The other day on facebook I heard an old schoolmate of mine died while giving birth, people were blaming the hospital for the mishap. It could have been the hospital and it could also have been that the teenager did not take the necessary prenatal vitamins or some other things related to teen pregnancy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;, &amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot; style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Calibri&amp;quot;, &amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;&quot;&gt;Most teenagers don&#39;t plan to get pregnant, but many do. Teen pregnancies carry extra health risks to the mother and the baby. Often, teenagers don&#39;t receive timely prenatal care, and they have a higher risk for pregnancy-related &lt;a href=&quot;&quot; name=&quot;noreveal&quot;&gt;high blood pressure and its complications. Risks for the baby include premature birth and a low birth weight or may even cause death for the mother and child or mother or child. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-bookmark: noreveal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot; style=&quot;mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;If you&#39;re a pregnant teenager, you can help yourself and your baby by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul type=&quot;disc&quot;&gt;&lt;li class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-bookmark: noreveal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot; style=&quot;mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Taking your prenatal vitamins for your health and to prevent some birth defects.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-bookmark: noreveal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot; style=&quot;mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;Avoiding smoking, alcohol and drugs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot; style=&quot;mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list .5in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot; style=&quot;mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Using a condom, if you are still having sex, to prevent sexually transmitted diseases that could hurt your baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot; style=&quot;mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends and family whenever a teenager is having a sex talk with you please don’t assume they are doing it and also don’t ignore them. Let’s educate them on the preventive measures and the risk of unprotected sex. It will only help us reduce the teen pregnancy rate and the teen HIV rate. Thank You.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/8696567199630518304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/teenage-pregnancy.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/8696567199630518304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/8696567199630518304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/05/teenage-pregnancy.html' title='Teenage Pregnancy'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-1901359395756163443</id><published>2011-04-29T12:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-29T12:58:34.193-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;You ask different people to describe life in one word and you will get different answers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: &amp;quot;Courier New&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Some will say life&#39;s a bitch, life&#39;s a joke, life&#39;s a trip etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Life is this and many more; they say the struggles and pains we go through in life before we make it &#39;BIG&#39; are so that we will have a story to tell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;When we were growing up we were told life isn&#39;t a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1304106823_0&quot; style=&quot;background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: initial; border-bottom-width: initial; cursor: pointer; outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;bed of roses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;, even if life is a bed of roses, roses have thorns, so go figure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;We were also told that as you lay your bed so you will lie upon it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Take a look at life, most of us went through school all the way to university and some went farther for their Masters and PhD, and most of us don&#39;t have jobs, after all the reading and school BS, no job, we have to struggle, sometimes we work for stipends some of us have drank garri so much that we should be out of garri in the country, then we catch a break and we &#39;blow&#39; then we tell our &#39;story&#39;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Some stories are easier told than others. For example;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;You have an encounter with God in life and he tells you that before you make it you will hit&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1304106823_1&quot; style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;rock bottom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;, that you have to rise from the ashes like a phoenix, that&#39;s all well and good, you console yourself with the fact that&amp;nbsp;you will make it after hitting rock bottom, some don&#39;t have the luxury of that encounter. So the babe/guy goes about their normal business, one day disaster strikes, babe comes home from work, she&#39;s raped, robbed and shot, she nearly dies, but she struggles and makes it through, fast forward present day, she&#39;s speaking out against rape and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span id=&quot;lw_1304106823_2&quot; style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;violence against women&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;, the Government rewards her with a ministerial appointment, she has made it &#39;BIG&#39;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br style=&quot;outline-color: initial; outline-style: none; outline-width: initial;&quot; /&gt; &lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Someone now asks her to tell her story, how do you think she feels every time she tells the story? So many people go through the struggles of life and never make it; hence they have no story to tell. My question to you is this: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;Would you rather live an average life, never be able to afford the loboutins/blackberry torch/iPads, and not have a story to tell. Or would you have something totally awful/near death happen to you, and hope you scale through, with the promise of fame and fortune at the end of the tunnel?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/1901359395756163443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1901359395756163443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/1901359395756163443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/life.html' title='Life...'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-3388339135283540012</id><published>2011-04-22T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-22T21:53:27.629-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My story...What&#39;s yours?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;It takes a lot of courage and strength to come out to the world and say you have a disease, sickness or ailment.&amp;nbsp; I am writing this post with tears in my eyes. After reading this post feel free to judge or better still learn from this story cause it’s a true life story. I am saying it as it is and it is for people to know what other people are going through. They say experience is the best teacher, I have learnt from my cousin’s experience and I will not want you all to go through what she went through.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;It took my cousin years before she knew she had the killer virus. My dad just came in from U.S.A.&amp;nbsp; and he saw my cousin and said ‘you look sick, you need to see the doctor’. My cousin said she just had tuberculosis and that she was using drugs. My dad insisted that she must go for blood test or better still see a doctor, which she went for with my dad. When we got the result, it was shocking and my dad said that it could be a mistake, that she should go to another hospital. They went to 5(five) different hospital and all 5(five) results were the same thing. Then it dawned on us that she had the killer virus.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;She was enrolled in some counseling classes and also for the anti-Trevor injections too, the anti-Trevor injection was to help keep her going but it was not helping out because the virus had grown to the worst killer virus. &amp;nbsp;She later passed on two months after. It was so sad, but we all knew she was going to die one day, sooner or later. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;messagebody2&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot;&gt;Nobody really knows how much anyone else is hurting. We could be standing next to someone who is completely broken and not even know it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Such is life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Before my cousin passed on, she could not tell where she got the virus from maybe sex, salon or from a hospital. Ladies and gentlemen before going to the salon/barber’s shop to get your hair done, take you needles or any instrument that you may need because you don’t know how many people would have infected the instrument you will be using at the salon. Don’t &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;EVER&lt;/b&gt; feel embarrassed to take your instrument to the salon, you are only helping yourself from a more embarrassed and stigmatize situation. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;So I want to advise you all, trust no one, your partner, family, friends and anyone could have the virus without you knowing. Before you have sex with your spouse, boyfriend, or any random person take time to protect yourself. Some people might say, &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘oh I know that’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;but we all make mistakes. &amp;nbsp;We can be so eager to have sex that we forget to protect ourselves. Some people will say I like skin-to-skin, but before you do skin-to-skin with anyone get tested, you can’t tell if your partner is infected.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Did you know that 63% of teenagers are HIV positive in U.S.A.? No. Well when I found out I was shocked because if teenagers could be 63%, what of adults and older people. We live in a world of surprises, different people, experience and stories.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;So people, let’s take time to get tested so we can know our status. Some people use to say’&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt; what you don’t know will not kill you’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; but I will say &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘what you don’t now will definitely kill you’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; if my cousin had known earlier, she would have responded to anti-Trevor and lived longer than she did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;So people, get tested and protect yourselves because the life you could be saving could be yours.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/3388339135283540012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-storywhats-yours.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/3388339135283540012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/3388339135283540012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/my-storywhats-yours.html' title='My story...What&#39;s yours?'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-4509524461360299762</id><published>2011-04-21T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T09:58:05.476-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Que sera sera.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;‘&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;I do’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, was all that was ringing in my head at the back of the church where I was weeping. I loved Gbade so much but &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘why didn’t he marry’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; me was the question I was asking myself. At the reception, I was not happy at all. As Gbade and Roselyn were doing the couple’s dance, I felt like shooting Roselyn for taking what was rightfully mine.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Gbade dragged me up to dance; I jumped up with so much joy in me. As we danced Roselyn gave me this wicked look, I just totally ignored her and continued dancing with my dream husband that was now married to Roselyn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;After the reception, Gbade came to meet me and said &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘I will always love you’.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; I cried and he put my head against his chest and pecked my head. I had so much to tell him, I wanted to tell him that I had always loved him and will always love him but I was just too shy and scared to tell him.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Gbade and I had been buddies since childhood. Everyone always referred to us twins and we acted like one. We went to the same High school, same college and the same grad school. We were always the talk of the school because of the way we act. We sleep on the same bed, bath together and also dress for each other.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;He was my dream hubby. I had always loved Gbade and he had always loved me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Before Gbade dates any girl, he will ask for my opinion and before I date any boy, I will ask Gbade. I never knew Gbade was serious with Roselyn until the day Gbade’s mom called me and said &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘your brother has decided to settle down’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;, I asked &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘with who’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;and she said &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘with Roselyn of course’.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; I could not believe because Gbade just met Roselyn like 3months ago. I called Gbade immediately and asked him &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘Why? Is he ready for commitment?’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;He said he loved Roselyn and wanted to marry her and I asked him &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘What about me?’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt; He said I will be fine. I broke down and cried my eyes out. I had made up my mind I was not going for the wedding, I will plan a vacation during that time and fly away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Gbade’s mom called me two weeks before the wedding and said I am not helping with the wedding plans. I told her I was going for some business trips and she said &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘my dear, I know how you feel. You have to support him with his decision. We all want you but God knows best. We will always love you my daughter. Please come for the wedding’. &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;I could not disrespect Gbade’s mom, she loved me more than Gbade her own son. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;One (1) month after the wedding I got a phone call, it was from a hospital.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;They called to tell me one Gbade David was involved in a ghastly accident and that I was his next-of-kin.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;I called Gbade’s family and Roselyn to tell them what I just heard. We rushed to the hospital. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;After series of test and observations, the doctor came to tell us&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt; ‘He won’t be able to walk again. He also needs a physical therapist that will help him with his exercise.’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Everyone busted in tears. I went to meet Gbade and told him everything will be fine.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Gbade was discharged but to his surprise went he got home Roselyn was not there anymore, her clothes, luggage’s all were gone. We later saw a note saying &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;‘I never really loved you but I thought I would. Now I know, I will never love you. Goodbye Sweetheart.’ &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Calibri;&quot;&gt;Three years after as I smile and see Gbade playing with our second child Junior; I thank God for Roselyn’s decision. She left Gbade and I moved in with Gbade because I was a physical therapist and he also needed help. I guess I can say I had an opportunity of a second chance to take what was mine, despite the detours and, distractions. What was mine, still came back to be mine. MY FAITH MOVED THE MOUNTAIN.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/4509524461360299762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/que-sera-sera.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/4509524461360299762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/4509524461360299762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/que-sera-sera.html' title='Que sera sera.'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-4812399484349497141</id><published>2011-04-16T15:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-16T15:41:52.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>….Love the one you are with.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;As I walked to the kitchen I noticed something on the refrigerator. It was a note from Cody saying ‘&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;IF YOU GO, DO NOT COME BACK’ &lt;/i&gt;my stomach dropped as I could not figure what to do because I had planned my trip and I was looking forward to meet Ryan. As I read the note I didn’t know what to do, I was just thinking maybe I should ignore or reply. I ignored the note and left the house, I had made up my mind I was going to Paris, and at least I was going for business and not pleasure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I landed safely in Paris(the city of love), the atmosphere sent a sensual feeling through my spine and I felt like I was home. I couldn’t wait to see Ryan, and I was also thinking about Cody’s note. I took a taxi and headed to Ryan’s apartment. As I got to Ryan’s apartment, the apartment didn’t change, the chairs, the smell, everything was still the same way I left them 3years ago after Ryan and I had a sad breakup. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;We went straight to business, we left Ryan’s apartment and went to Carrefour Market De Paris Maubeuge to get some materials we needed to work with. As we walk through the stores, I remembered when Ryan and I use to hold hands and walk side by side swinging our carrier bags in the market.&amp;nbsp; After buying all we needed we stopped to have some refreshments. Ryan held my hands and said he was sorry, he was sorry for breaking my heart. I was happy that Ryan finally accepted he was the one that broke us up… It was drizzling and we rushed back to Ryan’s apartment. It was raining before me got there and we were soaked. As we were running up the stairways my phone was ringing, it was my sister calling. I ignored it and ran up to meet Ryan…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Ryan’s apartment was so warm and cozy, I felt like jumping on the bed. He walked up to me and held my hand, I stood up and he held my waist and we slowly start to sway to imaginary music… the kind that can make you cry unexpectedly, even when you’re not in the mood to cry. I could tell Ryan was thinking of the past, so was I. I am going to follow my heart, wherever it leads. I owe it to myself and everyone.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;We kissed, as we were about to caress my phone rang. I was scared, I thought it was Cody calling to tell me the marriage was over, and to my surprise it was my sister. I picked the call and she asked me “Where are you?” I told her I was with Ryan; she screamed and told me to leave that place immediately. She was angry with me; I told her I had come for business. She asked me if I still loved my husband and I said yes…Guilt couldn’t allow me stay an extra second in Ryan’s apartment, so I left.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;The taxi driver asked where I was going and I remembered our old apartment, where Cody and I were staying before we relocated to Monaco. I told the driver to take me there. As I got there I noticed some people had moved in. I sat on the staircase and brought out my phone and called Cody. My heart was pounding; I said Hi and Cody responded to me lively. I told him I was sorry that I needed to go, when he didn’t respond I told him to guess where I was. He said ‘Where?’ I said our old apartment. He was like ‘Really?’ My heart was pounding and I asked Cody if he hated. He said he still loved me…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;I noticed a cab stopping in front me, then the door swings open and Cody appeared before me. For a while I was confused in a thrilling way, it later sank in that Cody got on the plane to see me. Cody walked up to me and said ‘Baby, I love and I will always love you’. As I hugged and kissed Cody, tears were flowing from my eyes. Cody said ‘let’s go home baby’. Till date I don’t talk to Ryan anymore, He is in my past and I leave it like that. I will always cherish and adore Cody.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/4812399484349497141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/4812399484349497141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/love-one-you-are-with.html' title='….Love the one you are with.'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-5250128792311363096</id><published>2011-04-14T11:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-14T11:47:38.734-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Get tested...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;I woke up on a Wednesday morning looking happy and smirking…It was &lt;span id=&quot;lw_1302796270_0&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;one of those days&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; you wake up feeling like a millionaire, if you are not one. I got dressed and was heading straight to my office; when I saw this beautiful, &lt;span id=&quot;lw_1302796270_1&quot; style=&quot;cursor: hand;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;virgin Mary&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; look alike lady walking down the hallway, I couldn’t resist her aura so I walked up to her and&amp;nbsp; asked for her name. She gave me a cute smile and said ‘Amy’. We chatted for a while and exchanged numbers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;All day in the OR I was just acting all agitated and couldn’t wait to finish the surgery, the surgery was successful. I rushed out of the OR and went straight to call Amy, we chatted for hours and we decided to meet…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;I went to &lt;span id=&quot;lw_1302796270_2&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;Macy’s&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; to get a very nice &lt;span id=&quot;lw_1302796270_3&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;sky blue&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id=&quot;lw_1302796270_4&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;Calvin Klein&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; shirt with a Russell Simmons’s tailored pants to go with it…all these was to look good for Amy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;I had already made a dinner reservations at Bacchanalia for Amy and I. &amp;nbsp;Amy looked so beautiful in her purple floral pattern dress and a pearl that made her look like a Princess of my dreams. As we ate, all I was thinking of was Amy screaming my name as we were having sex, giving it to her the way she wanted, and I was also thinking of the sex positions I was going to do with Amy that night. Amy tapped me when she noticed my mind was faraway from the dinner table, I smiled at her and she smiled back, little did she know what I was thinking…&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;As we were going towards my car, Amy said I should drop her home that she needed to rest; I beseech her that I wanted her to see my house. After I beseeched for like an hour, she resorted to my plea. I was so happy and I smirk till we got home…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;As we got to my abode, I played &lt;span id=&quot;lw_1302796270_5&quot; style=&quot;background-attachment: scroll; background-position: 0% 0%; cursor: hand;&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;yshortcuts&quot;&gt;Bryan Adams&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;’s All for Love. It was like that was the song Amy had been waiting for all day long, she held me so close and she was crying. I thought it was tears of joy, I kissed her gently on her neck and she grabbed my butt and we hurriedly took our clothes off. The night started nice and &amp;nbsp;beautiful with Amy screaming my name all sweaty and me feeling strong and manly with myself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;After three hours of mad marathon sex, Amy and I were panting and smiling. I stood up to take a wash when my leg hit Amy’s bag. I saw a lab report on the floor and picked it up to read, it was for Amy. I was been so inquisitive and I opened the report and to my revelation, all I was seeing were stars hovering in front of me…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;Amy was HIV positive…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;yiv160133694msonormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: auto 0in;&quot;&gt;Get tested!!!HIV is real.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 10pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/5250128792311363096/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/get-tested.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/5250128792311363096'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/5250128792311363096'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/get-tested.html' title='Get tested...'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-2653655248107953483</id><published>2011-04-12T07:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-12T07:59:57.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...Trust your hubby.:)</title><content type='html'>&lt;h6 class=&quot;actorName actorDescription&quot;&gt;&lt;a data-hovercard=&quot;/ajax/hovercard/user.php?id=1023400378&quot; href=&quot;http://www.facebook.com/mabinuori&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #3b5998;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class=&quot;uiStreamMessage&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;messageBody&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;A wife was sure that her hubby was having sex with the maid. She laid a trap one evening &amp;amp; suddenly sent d maid home for weekend &amp;amp; did not tell her hubby. That night when they went to bed as usual d hubby gave his old story, &quot;excuse me my dear wife my stomach is aching&quot; &amp;amp; d hubby left d bedroom for d bathroom. The wife promptly went into d maid&#39;s room, switched off d light &amp;amp; laid on d bed...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class=&quot;uiStreamMessage&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;messageBody&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class=&quot;uiStreamMessage&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;messageBody&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/h6&gt;&lt;h6 class=&quot;uiStreamMessage&quot; data-ft=&quot;{&amp;quot;type&amp;quot;:&amp;quot;msg&amp;quot;}&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;messageBody&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;....He came in silently &amp;amp; since she was naked he wasted no time &amp;amp; no words &amp;amp; starts having sex with her. When he finished d wife said to him, &quot;u didn&#39;t expect me on this bed, did you?&quot;. She then switched on d light but who did she see on top of her?.....THE GARDENER !&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h6&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/2653655248107953483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/trust-your-hubby.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2653655248107953483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/2653655248107953483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/trust-your-hubby.html' title='...Trust your hubby.:)'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-3900261089537434399</id><published>2011-04-10T15:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T15:00:14.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>...Friendships,we all have different meanings...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;inherit&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 9.0pt; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;Recently, I have taken into account certain relationships in my life and how much they affect and mean to me. &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;In secondary school there was this motto everyone wrote on their seats ‘&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;good friends are hard to find, bad friends are easy to find. Keep the one you have’&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. The human continued existence is based on friendship. &amp;nbsp; Friendship with one’s self, parents, siblings, cousins, relatives and friends.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;From the highest authority to the lowest bums living on the streets all of them have experienced in some way or the other one of these different kinds of friendships. &amp;nbsp; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;We take this friendship for granted because it is something that exists naturally in society and most of us never really have to actually go out into the world looking for a friend. &amp;nbsp; Those of us who have had to live in a foreign country or in a new environment have learnt how important this is in life. &amp;nbsp; My personal realization came when I relocated to a new country, within a sphere of an unknown existence. &amp;nbsp; The feeling of loneliness is enough to drive a person to near madness. &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;I believe success is born through being dependent on certain factors i.e. friendship.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;As individuals, friends are one major source of survival.&amp;nbsp; As children we depend on our parents and see them as our only friends. Life goes on to the next level and we now make friends with people of our own sex or opposite sex&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;.&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;A great man, &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;Mark Twain&lt;/b&gt;, once said, &lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&quot;Grief &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;can take care of itself, but to get the full value of joy you must have somebody to divide it with.&quot;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;i style=&quot;mso-bidi-font-style: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;There is a freedom from both people to express their opinions to each other in order to strengthen the friendship. &amp;nbsp; It does not matter whether the marriage or friendship is by choice or by force. &amp;nbsp; Any form of friendship is based on the simple rules of honesty and trust. &amp;nbsp; These are understood even before it starts. &amp;nbsp; It is this that makes us human. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-converted-space&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;They do not want to know about it or they do not understand it enough. &amp;nbsp; This is not how friendship works. &amp;nbsp; It is a system like any other, and whether it is between spouses or parents and children or friends, the same rules will apply to everyone.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt;As I’ve grown older, I’ve learnt a lot about friendships. Friendships are not all about saying, it is about acting. Your acts show the type of friend you are… True friendships shouldn’t have an ending; it should forever be nurtured and cherished. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;apple-style-span&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &amp;quot;Cambria&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;&quot;&gt; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/3900261089537434399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/friendshipswe-all-have-different.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/3900261089537434399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/3900261089537434399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/friendshipswe-all-have-different.html' title='...Friendships,we all have different meanings...'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-6483070939743909975</id><published>2011-04-04T10:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T10:27:55.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Always keep your condoms in your car!</title><content type='html'>I was a very happy person. My wonderful girlfriend and I have been dating for over a year now,and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing bothering me...it was her beautiful younger sister.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My prospective sister-in-law was 22,wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was&amp;nbsp;bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was near me, and I always got more pleasant view of her private parts. It had to be deliberate. She never did it when she was near anyone else.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
One day &quot;little&#39; sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she&amp;nbsp;whispered&amp;nbsp;to me that she had&amp;nbsp;feelings&amp;nbsp;and desires for me that she&amp;nbsp;couldn&#39;t&amp;nbsp;overcome. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once before I got married and&amp;nbsp;committed&amp;nbsp;my life to her sister. Well, I was in total shock, and couldn&#39;t say a word.&amp;nbsp;She&amp;nbsp;said &quot;I&#39;m going upstairs to my bedroom,and if you want one last wild fling,just come up and get me.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. When she reached the top she pulled off her panties and threw them down the stairs at me. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door. I opened the door, and headed straight towards my car.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Lo and behold,my entire future family was standing&amp;nbsp;outside,all clapping! With tears in his, my father-in-law&amp;nbsp;hugged&amp;nbsp;me and said. &quot;We are very happy that you have passed our little test...We couldn&#39;t ask for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And the moral of this story is.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Always keep your condoms in you car!&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/6483070939743909975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/always-keep-your-condoms-in-your-car.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/6483070939743909975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/6483070939743909975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/04/always-keep-your-condoms-in-your-car.html' title='Always keep your condoms in your car!'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-8350506018658906952</id><published>2011-02-21T10:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-05-26T10:13:21.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pain of losing someone</title><content type='html'>According to Wikipedia, &lt;strong&gt;Pain&lt;/strong&gt; is &quot;an &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Unpleasant&quot; title=&quot;Unpleasant&quot;&gt;unpleasant&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Sensory_system&quot; title=&quot;Sensory system&quot;&gt;sensory&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Emotion&quot; title=&quot;Emotion&quot;&gt;emotional&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Consciousness&quot; title=&quot;Consciousness&quot;&gt;experience&lt;/a&gt; associated with actual or potential &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Tissue_(biology)&quot; title=&quot;Tissue (biology)&quot;&gt;tissue&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.blogger.com/wiki/Damage&quot;&gt;damage&lt;/a&gt;, or described in terms of such damage.&quot;&lt;br /&gt;
Pain to me has&amp;nbsp;no definition because it&amp;nbsp;is like my world is coming to an end and I do not know how to stop it. There are different types of pain, e.g. body pain, menstrual pain, chronic pain, and pain of losing someone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Losing someone very close is an extremely painful experience. People find it very tough to cope up with the realization that they will no longer be able to see someone in particular who was very close to the heart. Heart aches or should we say it feels as if heart is breaking. Such deep emotional feelings often manifest themselves in physical symptoms of heaviness and tightness in your body structure. The other parts of body seem like reacting in a way that they want to protect your aching heart. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
When people lose their close relatives I feel bad and just say sorry without knowing how they feel. I started realizing or feeling people&#39;s pain after I lost my grandma and cousin the same day. The day my Grandma died it was as if my world was coming to an end, I just spoke to her like 3minutes ago and I got a phone call from my mum saying my grandma had passed on. I was in shock and did not know how to pour out my pain, I was just screaming and wailing because I just spoke with her some minutes ago and now they said she has&amp;nbsp;gone forever. I thought to myself ‘is this how people die without saying goodbye?’ I had to leave work immediately because I was not mentally stable then. When I got home I heard my 13 year old cousin had also passed on too, she could not bear the pain of losing my grandma because she was very close to her, and she died of shock the same day.*sobs*&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Moments of grief are experienced by one and all. Hardly few people can ever claim to have not experienced this feeling at all. The issue to be tackled here is how soon we can get over with those painful feelings of grieve? These heartbreaking moments don’t need to exist for a long time because longer they last, more we feel like a part of us to the monster named grief. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Two months after my grandma and cousin passed on I lost another of my cousin again, I really cannot say the cause of her death but I know God knows best. It was sad and painful because it was just few days after her 22&lt;sup&gt;nd&lt;/sup&gt; birthday and she just finished her law school where she had a 1&lt;sup&gt;st&lt;/sup&gt; class and she was the best student of her set. She was also the only girl of her mother (my aunt). &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The trick is to realize and identify the feelings of grief. Once you become aware of the changing taking place in your body and inside, you are bound to change sooner or later. Not realizing your own feelings can make things worse and more painful. Losing someone close is definitely a life-changing event. The world does not seem the same. Deeper you go inside, more aware you will be and easier it will be for you to come out of the feeling of loss and restlessness. &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sorry to bore you with my story, I just wanted you to try and understand people in pain or grief, it is not easy losing someone close. Just take out time and talk to people bereaved, get closer to them and share you moments with them…&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 0pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;margin: 0in 0in 0pt;&quot;&gt;May God Almighty grant the remaining of us on earth long life and for &lt;span style=&quot;mso-spacerun: yes;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;our deceased one may God grant them Heaven. Amen :)&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/8350506018658906952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/pain-of-losing-someone.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/8350506018658906952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/8350506018658906952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/pain-of-losing-someone.html' title='Pain of losing someone'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-8945192389645791300</id><published>2011-02-20T00:32:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T00:32:06.985-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Action Shall be Judged According to your intention-Hadith 1.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &#39;lucida grande&#39;, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;Two men were walking on a street when a woman crossing the road asked to be carried across as she had injured her leg. One of the men agreed to carry her while the other reprimanded him for touching her saying its forbidden to touch a woman who is not related to you. The &amp;nbsp;man ignored him and carried the woman across and forgot about it. A little while later his friend told him&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class=&quot;Apple-style-span&quot; style=&quot;color: #333333; font-family: &#39;lucida grande&#39;, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 16px;&quot;&gt;he should not have helped the woman across as in doing so he had committed a sin. The man calmly turned around and told his friend &quot;I did what I had to do and have forgotten about it but you are still thinking of her in your thoughts in an unpious manner. That is a sin&quot;.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/8945192389645791300/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/action-shall-be-judged-according-to.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/8945192389645791300'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/8945192389645791300'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/action-shall-be-judged-according-to.html' title='Action Shall be Judged According to your intention-Hadith 1.'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-81545210886780971</id><published>2011-02-19T23:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T23:22:33.321-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Continuation of The career girl...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;As years go by so did my passion for law increase… I was always reading articles and law journals even though I did not understand what they meant. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;My senior year in Art department was very interesting, different courses and interesting topics. My first year in senior school was intriguing, I did some very motivating courses like history, government, literature … History was my favorite course because it drew me closer to a continuous, systematic description of past events as relating to a particular people, country, period, person etc.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Government, also one of my favorite courses because it talks about the form or system of rule by which a state, community is governed…I can remember vividly my best topic was The 3 arms of government… loool, we actually formed a song for it back then in school… &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;Literature was also one of my favorite, I liked my Literature teacher. He was tall and cool, he always wanted us to learn new things and also to put it into practice. Literature to me was writings in which expression and form, in connection with ideas of permanent and universal interest, are characteristic or essential features, as poetry, novels, history, biography and essays…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;It is good to know your weakness and your strength, my weakness was mathematics but I always managed to pass through it… I worked hard on my strength and it helped me all the way through my senior year.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;My last year in senior school was the most exciting year in school. I made new friends, got closer to people in my set and got to know their different desire and passion… I had a slum book back then in school, a book people wrote the name of their best friends, the university they wanted to go to and the career they wanted to pursue… Most of what we all wrote in the slum book didn’t happen. Some people wrote that they wanted to become a doctor, a pilot, a lawyer and so on … but they did something else while some people still accomplished their dreams…&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;After my senior year in school, my mum asked me what next and I turned to her and said ‘I want to pursue my legal career’… That was how I started my legal career…&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/81545210886780971/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/continuation-of-career-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/81545210886780971'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/81545210886780971'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/continuation-of-career-girl.html' title='Continuation of The career girl...'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5496434029334919421.post-7500491822323909290</id><published>2011-02-13T22:04:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T22:04:20.265-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Career girl...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;line-height: 14.4pt;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;Hey people, this is kind of new to me so I will just freestyle and make mistakes cause practice makes perfect. On my title the career girl. O yea the career girl. I decided to use the word girl because career is nurtured from birth or better still from childhood.&lt;br /&gt;
When I was a little girl I always wanted to be a doctor or a nurse because I believed they save lives but as I grew older my passion grew stronger. My passion to become a doctor ended when I did&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;&amp;nbsp;summer school&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;before my senior year began. I realized I did not do well in one of the core courses that was required in Science class. The so-called course was physics. Physics was my worst course during summer school. When I started senior year I went to Art department, the department people felt or believe it was for dullards and unserious people, but that was when I changed my beloved childhood dream of&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt; becoming a doctor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;Art department&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Arial&amp;quot;,&amp;quot;sans-serif&amp;quot;; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;;&quot;&gt;was cool, not that bad as people made it sound. I learnt a lot and then I started building an imaginary career in my mind.&lt;br /&gt;
I read one book that talked about girls being abused, maltreated and undefended. And I thought to myself what can I do for these people, how can I help them. I always prayed for them then. So one day, we where asked in class &#39;what do you want to become in future?&#39; I said I wanted to become a Newscaster and my sit partner said she wanted to be a Lawyer and our teacher was like very interesting and a beautiful career to choose. I pondered for a while and when I went home for vacation I asked my mum what she thinks I will become in future and she said &#39;a Lawyer&#39;...That was how The career girl started.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/feeds/7500491822323909290/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/career-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/7500491822323909290'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5496434029334919421/posts/default/7500491822323909290'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ruqiola.blogspot.com/2011/02/career-girl.html' title='The Career girl...'/><author><name>Ruqi Ola</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01060192597807303809</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='https://img1.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>