tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204Sun, 08 Jan 2012 05:20:51 +0000Nyaruachbroken friendshipEmiliana Torrinijust in caselight and darkfreeAmy LeeC.S. Lewisthe truthPeter Panuncertaintychasing pavementsKT Tunstallhis contagious laughteryouopen your eyesbeing yourselfmr. tallno blindsairportsautumn morningstraightforwardnessmorningbest friends11:11the nights I cryroofmovie reviewstuff that makes you feel good about yourselfpostingobituaryweatherhealingrealitytipping pointpeacetalkKvitka Cisykheartideastravelingbitternesssky shotsflirtadventurerandom throughtsinteresting benchesgreat belowfireshow her she's specialsomething realExodusAugustchoicesvegetarianismEmerald Cityclimb to heaventhink of me when you rhymeCain's Bloodbloggingpaintingdoubtnecklaceyour placeproseflightdocumentarybad choicesbroken heartfreecyclefreecyclingon the edge of a dreamcollisionthrow yourself offMind vs. Heartwolfcreativitylack of compassionsummer songmindsundecidedsoulhip hopimagethese monthsSunday morningscloudsnothing superficialvigilancehallelujahrecyclingragepolarityapologynaïve beliefsSteve Mcqueencoffee shopthanksmusicSalt Lake Cityheartscravingto do listdots on the mapbeyonceCoffee and Cigaretteswordssouth sideTom Waits and Iggy Popif I were a boyIncubusfearwritingfresh startrelationshipcar washcoffee housesnailartlost sense of goodhurts to be in the middlefreedomnonprofit movementfreedom dreamregretsneighborhoodsdecisionTerencemosquito netBreaking upclouds in my eyesLenaErykah BaduwithdrawalreleasedAfricareviewbrick and steellack of trustarteriesblack and whitemeaning of lifeMusic and lyricsKarim ChrobogDecisionsrealizationgraffitiHenry Millon De Montherlantdelusiongirlfriendsfightercitynightlifestrengthconversationcreative processmoving oncosmic vibesSouthern SudanMinnie Ripertoncop carabre los ojossongstrusthelloshed your prideSarah Ban BreathnachPearlsnightlongitudes and latitudesbetrayalphone callemotionsmemorieshaircutsAmericancrimeheartbeatThe Four Lovesfortune cookiessharing an orangehappinesslosing connectiondrivingmuddy footprintsnot the Neverlandhigher goalheartachefriendsfrom abovetwigsinside an hourglassreunionI left my heart in Kenyalifeour songuniquenesssocial lifekindnessmr. coolscrambled eggsBrandi CarlilefeelingsloverspoetryJulyfailuresambucasoverdoselovers rocktrying to be a better personmoviesbooksdeathargumentfree spiritstrange questionsforgivenesslyricsclaritywarsafetyJohn Mayerperceptionunpredictabilityelusive dreamfake freedomErykah Badu and Stephen Marleypartingsilence with no tensiontearsnever grow upangerdatingfarmer's marketnever hurt herdirectory listingdon't take life too seriouslyBefore Sunriseprosaic thingssecretssoccerbridgeStock.XCHNGCeasefireavoiding truthmemoryfree photoslightsbattlecoldLovepainemotional lossLucas KellisonODself-reflectionif we are to live in a better world111thankfulnessmovingsolitudetunesprideSadeguiltsongriskinspirationhonestyunderstandingexistenceChicagocall herOscar Wildemaking uplost boys of SudanweaknessgunsIn the deeplearningsecrets we both knowknowledgeso you think you are freephotographyapple pieAntoine de Saint-Exuperyendless summerBird Yorkmeetingegospiritsfightkitchen we shareWarchildfriendshipchild soldierthe reflection of waropen mindpathsdistractionswoodslistenDreamsboring writershigh stakesempty streetsuncomfortable questionsadelelossmissing youcaringnegativitysocial tiesKatiahomefury311all or nothingArundhati RoyEmmanuel JalNnekapromiseconflicts withinfuturenot too proudwaitinglosttoo good to be truefloatingconsciencewhat if he was the oneRussian moviebus ridemistakeslookJunegood byeswhere is home anywayfallreasonfreenessthinking out loudsunriseon the way homedeceiton the wind’s backdirectionsWar childgreat watersJohn PatrickDorothee Solleshould have stayed longerHigh Fidelitycolorcarefulnessmorning paperconfessionfundeliberately lostSummermindsandboxinner struggleresponsibilitydeceptionschool shootingscryingThe God of Small Thingsendurancememorialhis sweet embraceenvironmentAngelique Kidjo and Josh GrobanJunctionexpecting perfectionactivismdancingRainsoulspinkie promiseGuaconcrete jungleSouth SudanKeanethinkingEvanescenceon and onlonely dogscold-heartednessliberationdon't belongShameOther Side of the Worldno regrets2 a.m.bookconfessionsdangerjourneyawakeninglisteningfallinggiving backparentspassionAsha Alifear of happinessmissingquotesfriends foreverseeking inspirationoverwhelmed<p> <b>"This is a blog that soothes the soul and strengthens the heart"<br> - EatonWeb</b></p>http://journabble.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (Jules)Blogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-5524737858499543894Wed, 14 Sep 2011 15:40:00 +00002011-09-14T11:47:46.790-05:00thinking out loudunpredictabilityideascollisionWords fell into their places as I started concentrating on social ties — things that drive us in the same direction, or away from each other, or toward one another until we collide. When you look more into people, you start seeing more of yourself. I think it takes a sync of minds to sooth a soul, but it often takes a collision of minds to spark an idea. Why can’t we be as happy on our own as we http://journabble.blogspot.com/2011/01/collision.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-6696432446052917678Tue, 07 Jun 2011 22:42:00 +00002011-09-14T11:53:20.707-05:00dancinglovers rockSadeLoveA gentle screech of the gate tells me you are here, and only the dense shrubs entangled in the darkness of the garden separate us from each other’s arms.Your face glows in the soft light of a single candle, your eyes are smiling, you carry some food in your hand. I can’t live another second without feeling the warmth of your embrace. We have a little picnic on the floor, eating pizza, watching http://journabble.blogspot.com/2011/06/lovers-rock.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8925115122380125123Sun, 28 Feb 2010 07:00:00 +00002010-02-27T17:24:19.109-06:00confessionI see the rain, and a car full of people, and suppressed tears in the corners of my eyes. "You will come back," she whispers kindly, and deep in my heart, I know I will. She jokes with me as she cuts your birthday cake, days after my return. We cheer to a great year ahead... a year full of surprises.We share an unexpected work trip, some eight hours in a bus that feel like a lifetime. You tell mehttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/12/confession.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-1219340014080428538Fri, 12 Feb 2010 17:36:00 +00002010-02-12T12:47:14.027-06:00Sunday morningsblogginglonely dogsIn the backroads of my mind, where gravel meets the fallen leaves in a gentle touch, you are lost somewhere in between the windy sky and the earth, moist from the rainy yesterday. You are holding my hand in a sweet attempt to keep it warm. Who are you?I know this is silly, a digitalized feeling of a sort, a quick note in my phone, one of many saved during countless traffic jams of Nairobi. I http://journabble.blogspot.com/2010/02/unforget.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3947501217526432130Mon, 17 Aug 2009 16:35:00 +00002011-09-14T11:50:46.581-05:00expecting perfectionshed your pridelyricsthrow yourself offconflicts withinkitchen we shareclimb to heavenIn the deepBird YorkWe expect a lot from each other, and it’s in that expectation of perfection that our arguments are born. We don’t understand each other. We look at each other with that tired look of the world on our shoulders, mountains climbed behind, oceans to swim ahead. We are so different that despite all outside efforts to combine us, we can never become one. Yet a string so strong holds us together, we http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/08/now-you-are-out-there-livin-in-deep.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3786804022226092961Sun, 07 Jun 2009 13:52:00 +00002009-06-07T08:52:00.520-05:00Augustmissing youphone callJulyJunepoetryendless summerwaitingI’ll come in August, He declaresEach sound reflectedIn a rain poolOf endless summerWords get trappedIn maze of thoughts Blended with dreamsDiluted quickly By the realJune’s proving busyShe reflectsTrying to maskThe notes of fear that JulyWill last foreverDrops of moist On fingertipsTension withinKnowing that August ends too soonAnd then?Listening to: Pretty Wings by Maxwellhttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/06/waiting.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2816408234049206164Mon, 25 May 2009 19:40:00 +00002009-05-25T15:08:27.854-05:00overdoseODcravingall or nothingmosquito netwithdrawalmorningYou give me an injection of care, a dose just big enough to last a day. But like any other drug, the one you are giving me can be unsafe. You give too much sometimes, deliberately or not; you overdose me. “You sleep babe. I arrived safe,” my phone is beeping through the wall of mosquito netting. I can’t sleep. My mind is high on you, and this overdose gives me cravings. I’m dreading the http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/05/od.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3891539922750611828Tue, 19 May 2009 23:53:00 +00002009-05-19T18:57:12.896-05:00feelingsmissing yousecrets we both knowhigher goaldistractionsIf only I could tell you the truth, I’d tell you how much I miss you. I’d tell you how much it hurts to suppress that thought. I’d tell you how my chest is about to explode all too often from the tension within. I’d tell you how I eat on the go and work late hours, till I pass out of fatigue, not allotting my mind a single free minute to think of us. I’d tell you how understanding of our work andhttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-do-you-start-story-that-never-ends.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2379600972101445016Fri, 17 Apr 2009 21:17:00 +00002009-04-17T16:21:15.081-05:00the nights I crylosthomeMy world is falling apart. I am in a new place, surrounded by new people, but they are not taking bricks out of my walls. My world is falling apart for different reasons. I am surrounded by laughter and phone buzz and road bumps as I fly though the day, and this busyness is making me happy. It’s when my head touches the pillow and the thoughts of work finally slip away, one by one, that I feel http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/04/homeless.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-4602625801132181372Tue, 10 Mar 2009 18:30:00 +00002009-03-10T14:31:10.473-05:00sandboxundecideddon't take life too seriouslymr. coolmr. tallcosmic vibesThere are Mr.Tall & Mr. Cool. They are both tall and cool, but Mr. Tall is taller, and Mr. Cool is cooler. Sorry, I am having fun here. I guess I could say her heart is spit in two, but she’s not sure if any of this is deep all the way to the heart. Her mind said it was too busy to process new drama. She misses Mr. Tall, thinking about him every now and then. He messed up (they all do sooner or http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/03/ms-undecided.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-1073082584404439144Fri, 06 Mar 2009 13:11:00 +00002009-03-06T07:11:00.642-06:00silence with no tensiongreat belowhis sweet embracehis contagious laughterwhat if he was the onehigh stakesno regretsconcrete jungleSometimes memories come out of nowhere. In a pure world, certain ones would have been marked with guilt. In real life, there's often no sorry close enough to reach for. Then again, maybe it's better to stay pure of fake regrets. A night like this pulls me out onto a dim porch, makes a spark in the darkness and points to the concrete jungle below. That's when the thoughts of him come knocking intohttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/03/great-below.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8170524255445106821Sun, 01 Mar 2009 21:45:00 +00002009-03-01T16:46:49.750-06:00Minnie Ripertonon the edge of a dreamhappinessKatiaLenaRussian movieclouds in my eyesThe ripples run into the sunAnd your smile blends with the clouds that flutter by meAs I sit on the edge of a dreamWhat do I see? What do I see?Why do I write so much when I'm sad, and so little when happy? Am I incapable of describing happiness? Am I afraid to spook it with clumsy words? Or am I too busy being happy, to write?I saw a Russian movie the other day and this dialog got stuck in my http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/03/clouds-reflected-in-my-eyes.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-3431500329661365094Sat, 21 Feb 2009 13:30:00 +00002009-02-21T07:30:01.183-06:00trustour songnever hurt hernot too proudbeyonceshow her she's speciallistenif I were a boycall herI would notice the tune we both like and tell her it would be our songI would leave a note on her pillow to remind her she's specialI would find that one word to boost her confidence I would give her my trust, her freedomI would listen... alwaysI wouldn't be too proud to call her if I wanted to hear her voiceI wouldn't forget the things she's passionate aboutI wouldn't hide my feelings if I had http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/if-i-were-boy.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-4590529797660158224Wed, 11 Feb 2009 21:36:00 +00002009-02-11T16:36:16.266-06:00trustfightfriendshippeacethe reflection of warLoveSouth Sudanon the wind’s backdecisionPeter Panyouactivismnot the Neverlandpassionnever grow upflightdoubt“Second to the right, and straight on till morning… I'll teach you to jump on the wind's back, and away we go.”I feel like Wendy right now… and you are my Peter Pan, the boy who decided to never grow up. You make faces at me. “Do I look like a ghost?” I giggle and close my eyes, pretending to be scared. You plunge forward at once, trying to pull me after you, off the window overlooking this http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/where-do-you-live-peter.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-6307556766251384502Mon, 09 Feb 2009 23:40:00 +00002009-02-09T18:41:45.261-06:00bridgebrick and steelcop carlightsnight2 a.m.south sidehomeChicagoquotesempty streetsfrom abovecitySteve Mcqueengraffitineighborhoodsdon't belong“I would rather wake up in the middle of nowhere than in any city on Earth.” – Steve McqueenI look 33 floors down, at the blinking city lights, savoring the picture for only a moment before jumping back into reality. There it goes. My eyes were flying. My mind was locked in a box. Everything in the waking life is relative. Stare at something for a long enough time, your eyes open wide, and the http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/it-could-have-been-home.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2318213512725297423Fri, 06 Feb 2009 18:30:00 +00002009-02-06T12:30:01.167-06:00sambucasmorning papermemoriessharing an orangecaringnothing superficialcoffee shopno blindsJunctionyou111your placesomething realapple piescrambled eggsmorning10:30 a.m.“Was it 110 or 111?” You ask, taking the backpack off my shoulder, stretching your arm in front of me, saving my life once again from the madness of traffic. I keep forgetting that they arrive from the opposite side here.“It’s 111,” I say, unable to conceal a smile. “You almost remembered.”A screeching noise behind us announces a 111 coming to a stop just a moment later. I try to say http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/111.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-4646456339571208358Tue, 03 Feb 2009 07:50:00 +00002009-02-03T04:13:53.796-06:00documentarySouthern SudanNyaruachCeasefirelost boys of SudanKarim Chrobogmovie reviewGuachild soldierEmmanuel Jalhip hopwarWarchildWar childbookThree of us were in the room, watching this movie. I was holding my breath, trying hard not to cry. Then I threw a quick glance to my right and saw tears in my friend’s eyes. He’s not a softie by any means. He’s quite a man’s man, in case it draws a better picture of the situation, or the movie.War Child is a documentary about the life of Emmanuel Jal, a hip hop artist in his late 20s, who at thehttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/02/war-child-2008.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-8940194841073043826Thu, 29 Jan 2009 21:51:00 +00002009-01-29T16:51:56.999-06:00gunsschool shootingscrimeAmericanjust in caseI glued myself to the wall, trying to walk as far from you as I could in the narrow hallway. Keep that thing away from me. You pressed the trigger. I didn't blink. It wasn't charged. "Now I'm a true American," you said, laughing. The sad reality is that you are right. In fact, you couldn't fit in any better. First the big mortgaged house, now this gun. "Why, why, why in the world," was all I http://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-you-bought-gun.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-6774004724335001356Wed, 14 Jan 2009 05:46:00 +00002009-01-14T04:43:20.818-06:00so you think you are freelost sense of goodlack of compassionobituaryfake freedomfreedom dreamdelusionblack and whitethe truthpoetryLost sense of goodFrocefully takenFrom prideless hands Freedom deprivedPainfully twistedDrained crisply dry Of happy claps They wipe the spillBuoyancy leakage Remains of it -Museum fillerDrenched in the sweat Convened by truthIt’s black and whiteNo in betweenThey touch the realTry to handle itSometimes they doSometimes they weepWake up, world. Wake up to realize that your freedom dream is nothinghttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2009/01/so-you-think-you-are-free.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2676115742238541701Tue, 30 Dec 2008 08:04:00 +00002008-12-30T06:19:40.570-06:00where is home anywayoverwhelmedRaingood byesshould have stayed longeron the way homepoetryInside the creases of my skinMixed with the song of fuzzy rainThe evening’s kindness wearing thinYour touch – the thought that ripped my brainI dreamed you up, I told those streetsI knew the night could choose to hearMy heart kept busy counting beatsWhile raindrops masked the single tearCurrently listening to Malaika (Angel) by Miriam Makeba (RIP, Mama Africa, the world misses you)http://journabble.blogspot.com/2008/12/day-after-us.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-569714670798024973Wed, 17 Dec 2008 13:00:00 +00002008-12-17T07:59:54.622-06:00pinkie promisethink of me when you rhymenecklacegood byesfriends foreverhonestyI left my heart in Kenyapromisehurts to be in the middleI can’t sleep. I keep thinking. Through the darkness, I can see the contour of your cheekbone. You have that necklace on you, my goodbye gift. The leather frame goes around the little silver spear end, sitting above several rows of red beads. You even chose a matching outfit. Do you treasure it? How long will you keep it like this, close to your heart? You take my hand, close your eyes and start http://journabble.blogspot.com/2008/12/promise.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2023505756162440763Wed, 22 Oct 2008 05:36:00 +00002008-10-22T01:36:19.164-05:00longitudes and latitudesunderstandingpartinggood byesairportstearsdots on the mapjourneyautumn morningThe sun dipped its brush in the fog this morning, drawing perfect pastels over the mountaintops. It was a little after 7 and I took the long route home, enjoying the warmliness of this brand new autumn day. There is some magic about the airports; they tend to highlight the human in us. You hugged me and asked me to take care of myself. "You are going there so you can be useful to the people, so http://journabble.blogspot.com/2008/10/airports.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2483292501788402298Thu, 16 Oct 2008 23:58:00 +00002008-10-16T19:58:11.271-05:00best friendsPearlsfriendshipgirlfriendsAngelique Kidjo and Josh GrobanthankfulnessYou are humble, and brave, and full of understanding, and laughter... And sometimes I sit there and reflect on how exceptionally lucky I am to have you as a friend. And then I can’t help but wonder... what have I done to deserve you in my life?Image credit: InominatusCurrently listening: Pearls by Angelique Kidjo & Josh Grobanhttp://journabble.blogspot.com/2008/10/must-have-done-something-right.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-2704809171991505950Sun, 12 Oct 2008 01:45:00 +00002008-10-11T21:46:42.292-05:00Erykah Badu and Stephen Marleygreat watersfortune cookiespoetryinside an hourglassThis thinking grips my heartAnd squeezes it, and bendsI can’t tell you apartFrom where my dreaming endsI might have felt your pride Elusiveness so tenderDespite this vast divide Temptation to surrender You might have dug my mindFrom underneath the laughterSo does this world unkindAllow the ever after?* * *I know, they are called the Atlantic… Sometimes fortune cookies really creep me out. But http://journabble.blogspot.com/2008/10/inside-hourglass.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17467204.post-9102595081348215592Thu, 09 Oct 2008 17:21:00 +00002008-10-09T13:24:00.331-05:00fear of happinesstoo good to be trueelusive dreamHave you ever felt as if something you dreamed up is right there, within the hand’s reach, so real yet extremely fragile? Did you jump right at it or stop breathing for a minute, not to spook it, fearing that something so good can disappear so easily? Isn’t that how real life works? Aren’t things that are too good normally also too elusive to be kept by anyone for longer that several happy http://journabble.blogspot.com/2008/10/can-i-keep-this-one-please.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Jules)2