The African Orchid

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I’ve got such a hankering for continuing one of my lewd short stories. However, since my laptop has refused to work for me(prude!), I will have to wait until I get it fixed. I really hope I don’t lose all my short stories again. That is what happened to my other old stories. I lost them all after my old computer from middle school died on me. I should probably find a new means of storage.

I’ve been thinking about this blog, what happened the other night, and exactly how I am going to continue with the photography aspect of it. It’s the whole reason why I started this blog, and the thought of being restricted to indoor photography is depressing. Perhaps this means we have to be a little more adventurous in finding outdoor areas, but the idea of meeting another asshole police officer just does not make it worth it. Yes lovers, I’m still a little…traumatized by the whole ordeal. I don’t deal with police very often, apart from the Lover’s speeding tickets last year, so this has left a really acidic taste in my mouth. But it seems really…stupid, that I finally find something I’m passionate about, and now I find myself hindered by one encounter with one dick-head. It seems childish to just stop doing it based on that. The Lover is not as traumatized by the incident as I am. He’s actually eagerly mouthing off about new places and ideas we can try. Gosh I’m such a baby! lol

Anywho! apart from licking my wounds from the other night, like some traumatized puppy, I’ve been thinking about the past a lot lately. Mostly the people i left behind. I feel like as soon as I arrived in this country I severed all ties with everyone I ever knew. It wasn’t intentional. It’s shocking now, looking back, why I just let everything go like that. I had good friends in Africa. I remember some of their names. I had a best friend named Esther. We used to be very close, I remember that she always stuck up for me. I also remember girls like Shirly, and I used to hate this spoiled rich girl…I think her name was Juliet. Goddess she was a bitch! lol I also remember a boy named Kevin. We were the same age, with a few months apart. I think he was my first kiss, but I don’t trust those eight year old memories of mine. I also remember him whispering into my ears that he loved me. See, I don’t think that as kids we even knew what love truly meant. I have this memory of us sitting in the dark because the light went off at our house (that’s my country for you!), and we were reading a book, he was sitting beside me. He started tracing his hands on my skinny little thighs. OMG I was mortified! We were sitting in the dark, pretending to read (I don’t know why we thought that would work, it was DARK!) while my mom looked around the house for a lantern to light! He never went too far up, it seemed more like he just wanted to touch me. Nothing naughty. I seem to have left him behind too. I feel very guilty at times…for not writing or anything. At the same time I know it is silly because I doubt that boy even remembers me anymore.

Man, sometimes, I wish i could go back and do it all over again, get their addresses the day we were leaving for America, and send them a letter, keep in touch.

I think it’s way too late to fix anything regarding my old, old friends.

Speaking of friends, the girls I used to hang out with in High school and middle school will be picking me up on Wednesday, and for some reason, I am very uncomfortable with it. Goddess, have I become so anti-social? I’m going to push myself this time. I can’t keep running away.

Off to bed now lovers, Be happy always!

Filed under: Africa, photography, police, writing by Orchid