Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Rainy Day

I can feel drops of rain trickle down my nose..
Or are those tears...
And the clouds are casting shadows all around me...
Or are those my fears...
Loud thunder, heavy as my thoughts...
And hidden puddles as deep as my hurt...
Just another rainy day...
Can't wait to see the sun again.
Copyright ©2009 Chinwe Arinze


Sa’ada wasn’t getting much work done today, if any…

She was too excited, her heart in her throat and her mind a complete mess…

Prince Ali was returning today.

Sa’ada and Ali had grown up together, very unaware of their difference in social status…

He was the son of the King, and she was the daughter of the chief chambermaid of the palace…

And yet against numerous odds, they had fallen in love.

As children they had traded meaningless gifts and secrets…

And in their teenage years they had traded heartfelt gifts and kisses…

And at seventeen, they had exchanged promises to each other, to keep the others heart forever, and care for it like it was their own, as Ali went off to the summer castle to begin his four year schooling on the duties of royalty.

Sa’ada had waited patiently and sometimes anxiously for four years…

In that time she had become more beautiful than in the days of her youth, with her olive tone skin and her back length cascading dark curls making her emerald green eyes, once unusual in her childhood days, the most gorgeous set of eyes to gaze upon now.

As the chief chambermaids daughter she had been educated with the ladies of the court in art, math, writing, and languages. So not only was she beautiful, she was intelligent also.

Her mother however constantly reminded her never to forget her place, and that even though she was to be appointed one of the ladies of the princess of the palace, she still wasn’t worthy of the prince. These were hard words for a mother to utter to her child, as mothers would rather encourage their children to dream. But Sa’ada’s mother did not have the strength to watch her child’s heart break, and so she knew it was necessary to remind her of the true situation at all times, even though Sa’ada was hearing none of it.

Time and time again, she would remind her mother of the promise the prince had made her, and the one she’d made him in return. Certain of the fact that once he came back they would carry on their romance like he’d never left. And even though his letters had dwindled in number over the past four years, and stopped coming after the third, she knew it was because he had other pressing matters to attend to, and not because his love for her had changed in the slightest.

The royal trumpets sounded, the prince was in sight. Sa’ada was a vision to behold, and from the outside her nerves were invisible, but on the inside butterflies in her tummy danced to the tune the trumpet played…

Monday, July 27, 2009


Falling in love is not a beautiful thing. What is so beautiful about standing at the edge of a cliff, trying to decide whether it’s worth it to take a plunge that will most certainly lead to sudden death. Something has to die for another to be born, I’m not sure who made that rule, but it seems to keep things in check. It keeps the rhythm of the universe, and the balance in nature. So what dies when we fall in love? Standing at the edge of a cliff, eyes set on the target, arms embracing the wind, we believe we can fly. Madness. For the reality is, humans don’t fly. We plunge, we dive, we soar for a while; eventually our feet touch the ground. Then the reality sets in, we never flew. For those moments it felt like we did, like we were invincible, untouchable. But just like we inhale, we exhale. Equal opposite reaction.

So what do I do, standing at the edge of that cliff? That’s when the voices set in, so many voices, everyone knows. They all have an answer. “JUMP! Take a risk, do something you’ve never done before”, “What’s worst that could happen?”… Words pushing me forward into uncertainty with such conviction. But how do they know I wonder, what if I fail, what if I hurt? The other voices seem louder now, the ones that say “Turn around, this is foolishness”, “Not all new experiences are good experiences”, “You jumped off a cliff before, not this one, but what’s the difference?” And then I wonder how these voices know this cliff won’t be different.

So I steady my feet to hold the weight of my confusion. I brace myself for the endless possibilities that lie ahead of me. Searching for some confidence in the safety I’m preparing to leave behind me. Some reason in my past that will push me into my uncertain future. And again one word comes to mind, madness. Why leave all that you know, all that you’re sure of, for a risk that might not be worth taking. So I turn around, and take one step back. My chest is tight, my breath is short, fear of giving up slowly sets in. But why? Can I miss something I never knew, or lose something I never had?

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

While I slept...

.. I had a dream

About an ogre king that ate little faery queens...

And Ana was being held captive...

She didn't want to sing.. or dance.. she just wanted to leave....

She said "What color do faeries bleed? Crimson, purple, blue, green..

The most beautiful thing you've ever seen...

Till you realized the faery's dead...

Cuz the ogre bit off her head" ...

I got these words while lying in bed...

Nothing's ever as it seems.

Copyright ©2009 Chinwe Arinze

Sunday, July 19, 2009


My first attempt at a panoramic shot...
With practice, I'll get the same shutter exposure for each shot...

Saturday, July 18, 2009

My Decadent Affair

Should I, Shouldn’t I,
Disclose the details of a decadent affair,
The way my stomach is in knots like my hair,
The way I smile to myself when he’s not there,
Destiny put oceans between us,
But we still found each other,
Like we were destined to be together,
Together but separate, my mind is in such a state,
No one must know, but everyone can see,
Such thoughts are forbidden, my feelings must stay hidden,
My heart is not at ease,
Like a puzzle with a missing piece,
You undo me, so easily,
But you have no clue,
You, who?
My little secret,
My decadent affair.

Copyright ©2009 Chinwe Arinze

Thursday, July 16, 2009


So my eldest sister has decided to harness the artiste in her.... {We all do different artsy things, its weird, and cool}...

She's finally started her own interior design comany... named
éclairé™... love it!

It makes me hungry, but I love it, lol....

This is her latest creation.. the Allygator™

Get yourself an Allygator!

And look out for more cool stuff from éclairé™...

Monday, July 13, 2009

Oh dear

So my younger sister was kind enough to tag me in this....

I have no idea where she found it, but it's been circulating round facebook apparently, cuz my dad showed it to me the very same day and she had no idea he'd seen it....

Ties in very nicely with my last post...

Kinda sucks that I'm an arsenal fan though... lol

Saturday, July 11, 2009


I stared out of the window and watched the scenery whizz by….

Like the car was still, and it was the earth moving past us..

Houses, cars, trees, people… people… city people..

A thought crept into my head and I giggled….

“Daddy, I have a theory, that people who live in the hood are actually from Lagos, and that in the next one hundred years Lagos will be the new Camden,” I paused, “I should call it the evolutionary theory of Lagotianism.”

My dad chuckled. Long drives with my dad are always fun, they create a forum for random conversation.

“You don’t need ten years,” He said, “have you ever been to Ajegunle?”

I smiled, knowing where this was going..

“You children just saw the good side of life, the sweet side of Nigeria. You need to be thankful that you never suffered.” My dad stared at the road ahead but it was obvious his mind was in a memory formed across the Atlantic.

I had had conversations with my dad about Nigeria millions of times, once or twice I’d tried to argue that Nigeria wasn’t that bad, and he had countered my arguments with personal storys that left me wide-eyed and converted to his view, at once. I knew now to just listen, and laugh.

“In fact that Ajegunle, I used to pass through it to get from the mainland to the Island to go to work. After a few time’s I knew it wasn’t worth it. How can one’s heart be in your throat every time you’re driving somewhere?

Ajegunle, Okokomiko… Okokomiko? Where did those names even come from? Who sat down and came up with Okokomiko.. Mile 12?”

I laughed as I stared over the bridge at the water below, we were leaving Philly finally, hitting the highway. I relaxed into my seat.

“There was one day I was driving home, and it rained, heavily!” My dad shook his head. “The rain flooded the streets, and came right into the car up to here!” He motioned his hand slightly above his seat.

“The sky was dark like it was judgment day, then the car engine stalled.”

I was held captive by the story, my mind drawing pictures of a scene I’d never seen.

“Look at cars, wading through the water like boats, making waves.” He laughed, his sense of humor being very mischievous. “Next thing you know, a car was moving, and it just disappeared.”

I raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing.

“Ah, it’s funny now but it wasn’t funny o. A whole car just sank under the flood! There must have been a hole in the road, everyone was so confused.”

I could see the picture clearly in my mind; murky water, crowded lagosian street, dark sky above, perfect setting for confusion.

“But the worst one was the man that fell into an open manhole! He was just wading through the water, and next thing you know he sinks under! Just disappears…”

I was about to laugh until my dad says “… and he didn’t come back up.”

The mood in the car was altered.

“If they could invent a machine to erase certain memories…” He stared ahead, lost in thought again.

Then he brought out the Tomtom, licks the suction {a habit that irks me J }, and pastes it on the windshield, as he took the wrong exit unpurpose with a crazy excited gleam in his eye. We were going on an adventure.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, my dad loves to drive. Especially on roads he doesn’t know. J

The landscape was gorgeous, the day was beautiful.

My dad makes everyday count.

I plan to do the same.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Hervé Léger vs. Hervé L. Leroux….

…. funny story, they were once one and the same under the last name Léger.

That was till September 1998, when renowned designer Max Azria purchased the company Hervé Léger from, guess who, Hervé Léger… and bought the rights to the name as well. Hervé then changed his last name to Leroux.

Curious as to the where about of the former hairdresser, hat maker, and free lance accessory designer {who worked for people such as Daniel Swarovski and Charles Jourdan}; I did a little internet stalking of Monsieur Hervé….

Turns out Mr Bandage Dress is still very much around, and still designs dynamic dresses, but with a different kind of class. Still sexy, still Hervé, but with a different direction than Léger.

{Pictures from the Hervé Leroux Coture collection}

Now Max Azria's Hervé Léger collections still embody the vision of the bandage dress to perfection, but I wonder who's vision I prefer, the orginal Léger, or Max's Léger...

These are a few dresses from the Hervé Léger Spring Collection {because I prefer it to the fw09 line} ...

{Pictures from}

I think I'm in love with both Léger et Leroux.

On to another Hervé issue. My eyes stumbled upon this gorgeousness as I was going through the S09 collection...

Just as I was thinking {for a humorous second} about breaking my piggy bank and selling my kidney to maybe possibly purchase it.. I took a look at the price and almost laughed out loud in the middle of my marketing lecture.

And the price was.. wait for it.. brace yourself ... $7250!

Now even if I had $10,000 at my disposal, not considering the current recession, would I spend $7250 on a dress?

Would you?

Monday, July 6, 2009

So I took a walk in the illadelph..

Look see what I found! :)

A Thousand Miles...

I lost myself when I abandoned my writing,

Became consumed with scene, location, timing,

Critique took the lime light, and truth left the stage,

How could a thousand words create an empty page,

Then I sat and listened to him speak,

For all of three minutes his words were my high,

Impressed by his flow, damn, he didn’t even try,

So I decided I would let the words screw me, use me, better yet abuse me,

I thought I was the star, but the truth is I’m the groupie,

They said to me you can only write what you know,

So I decided to let the words flow,


Line after line they flowed out, unstoppable,

Because every word creates a new story, between every line a different allegory,

You think you understood that last line, read again, the new meaning hits you harder than a train,

You though you got it that time still, look again,

I’ve given this paper every reason to be vain,

I’ve given up trying to contain, the flow that threatened to drive me insane,

I stopped trying to be a rapper, now I’m a sentence designer,

Lyrical cartographer,

What’s the purpose of my words you ask, new truth,

To shed flood lights on my stolen youth,

To let the pain unfold like a flower,

Even though I remain unbreakable, a tower,

My aim is to shower your ears with new truth,

Undo the me that I used to see,

Allow myself to be what the words make me,

Allow the truth to take control of me,

Allow my writing to deliver me,

From the darkness that enveloped my mind,

To the darkness that promises to be kind,

To the other type of darkness that promises the light,

The one I can’t fight, the light is in sight,

And as I navigate my way through labyrinth of truth,

In hopes that I find my way to my stolen youth,

I pray that as the day turn into night,

I find the strength to give up, and fight.

Copyright ©2009 Chinwe Arinze

Thursday, July 2, 2009

It'll Be Okay...

So I woke up in a mood...

Went to bed late last night, and missed a lecture this morning...

On a job hunt for my fall internship, and for the summer because I'm tired of mooching off daddy dearest {bless him}...

Working on the blog thing, writing a column for a friends magazine, and starting up my own....

And my sister keeps nagging me {out of love}, but still very annoyingly, about doubling my search efforts for that internship and putting my dreams on hold {yeah right}...
I get mad at her, because she traded her pastels and sketchpad, for a 9 to 5 deskjob after college.. which pays well.. but is she reaching her maximum potential?
Stuck in that If you're not a doctor or lawyer, or you do not possess immediate abundant wealth, you are not allowed to dream ... mindset, and trying to limit me to that too...
In the words of Ryan Leslie "You try to put me in a box... IT'S IMPOSSIBLE"

Plus he said he would text when he got home last night, and he didn't. Not that I'm attention starved, but after the accident last week, I worry...
I know he probably got home late, and he's probably still asleep, but still... I worry...
And I need someone to vent to...

And then quite by accident I stumble upon this picture:

And I think I'm not there. Thank God I'm not there....

Sitting on my candy pink sheets, with Apple juice in the fridge, and gorgeous summer weather outside... I'm at peace.

Because I'm certain, I will be okay.
{And then I try to post this blog 5 times and I keep getting an error message *laughs*}

Oh... I got stalked by a butterfly.. :)