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	<title>Reflections</title>
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		<title>Reflections</title>
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		<title>The Rat Race</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/the-rat-race/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2010/04/10/the-rat-race/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 10 Apr 2010 21:53:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Spiritual Reflections]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/?p=38</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Wake up each day wondering if I could get thru the day. Work is draining Bills are flooding in Wedding planning House renovation Piling debt Can I make it through? Can I make it through. The things I pride in i have lost touch in. In this routine to pay the next bill for things of little [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=38&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Wake up each day wondering if I could get thru the day.</p>
<ul>
<li>Work is draining</li>
<li>Bills are flooding in</li>
<li>Wedding planning</li>
<li>House renovation</li>
<li>Piling debt</li>
</ul>
<p>Can I make it through? Can I make it through.</p>
<p>The things I pride in i have lost touch in. In this routine to pay the next bill for things of little value.</p>
<p>It is a maze, please guide me to the light&#8230;.</p>
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		<title>Alone</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2008/03/14/alone/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2008/03/14/alone/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 14 Mar 2008 14:27:19 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2008/03/14/alone/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Inwardly you groan…moan and grunt. A thousand words all stuck and struggling for expression. Politically correct, socially acceptable… The more you try the less result you getYour intentions are goodBut it comes out all messed upYou open your mouth to screamBut you stop shortYou can’t spill itCuz you’re the preacher’s son Day and night you gruntThe [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=37&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><span><font face="Times New Roman">Inwardly you groan…moan and grunt. A thousand words all stuck and struggling for expression. Politically correct, socially acceptable… </font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">The more you try the less result you get</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Your intentions are good</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">But it comes out all messed up</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">You open your mouth to scream</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">But you stop short</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">You can’t spill it</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Cuz you’re the preacher’s son</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman"> </font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Day and night you grunt</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">The feel of guilt weigh hard</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Like a burden on a beast</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Slowing down the progression to an end</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Pull pull you think you move</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">But on the same spot still remain</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">A burden bearer I seek </font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">But all I see are tale bearer</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Seeking for the next juicy bit</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Cuz he’s the preacher’s son</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman"> </font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Up to heaven his eyes are raised</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Blurred vision tears have caused</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Groping and stumbling he wanders round</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Seeking for a pleasure once felt</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Shutting his eyes he sees</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Visions of years long gone</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Years of communion in the Father’s bosom</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman"> </font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Oh that a hand would reach</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Oh that an ear would listen</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">Oh that a heart would understand</font></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">And lead the preacher’s son to the Father’s love</font></span></p>
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		<title>MARTIANS&#8230;WHAT IS YOUR PROFESSION&#8230;.The battleline is drawn.</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/12/10/martianswhat-is-your-professionthe-battleline-is-drawn/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/12/10/martianswhat-is-your-professionthe-battleline-is-drawn/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 10 Dec 2007 10:52:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Matters of the Heart]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/12/10/martianswhat-is-your-professionthe-battleline-is-drawn/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[My stunning beauty…closed my eyes for a brief second and held my breath …for your lovely features I did see…went further and listened…and heard the beautiful voice that rings in my heart moment after moment, day after day… paused and felt the heartbeat…it was the rhythm of love flowing deep…rich…and free. Felt my body move…move [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=36&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><span><span style="color:red;font-family:'Viner Hand ITC';">My stunning beauty…closed my eyes for a brief second and held my breath …for your lovely features I did see…went further and listened…and heard the beautiful voice that rings in my heart moment after moment, day after day… paused and felt the heartbeat…it was the rhythm of love flowing deep…rich…and free. Felt my body move…move to the dance of lovers… two…intertwined into one…for another…I no longer saw</span></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span></span></p>
<p><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">&#8230;hi&#8230;there&#8217;s a guy disturbing me&#8230;</span></span></span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">ummm&#8230;who is he and how did you meet him</span></span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">&#8230;my sisters friend&#8230;wants to call me tonight&#8230;told him about you but&#8230;</span></span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">tell him he can call you..</span></span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">but&#8230;</span></span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">Just be nice to him&#8230;tell him it calmly and firmly that it can’t work&#8230;</span></span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">aint you worried about having a competition&#8230;</span></span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">let him bring it on. Don’t have to fight to prevent him from trying…got to pick my battles&#8230;</span></span><span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">what do you mean by picking your battles….aint I worth fighting for?</span></span><span><span><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:'Lucida Handwriting';">No…what I mean is that l don&#8217;t have to try to stop him…all I need is to fight where it matters….right in your heart&#8230;</span></span></span></span><span><span></span></span><span><span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana;"> </span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-size:8pt;font-family:Ravie;">Time makes us complacent…especially after we have won her heart…but at the smell of a threat….AAAAHHHHHHH HHHHHHOOOOOOOO! The battle cry rings loud and clear, the fire is rekindled burning bright and hot…for tonight…we shall march with our prize…the arm of the fair one. </span></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText">&nbsp;</p>
<p></span></span></p>
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		<title></title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/30/35/</link>
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		<pubDate>Fri, 30 Nov 2007 16:04:15 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/30/35/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Friday evening&#8230;. Been resuming by 6:30am and leaving the office at about 9pm for the past 2 weeks&#8230;.but today&#8230;somewhere on the Lagos-Ibadan express way is the girl that stole my heart away&#8230;Been  listening to music and dancin on my seat&#8230;guess i would be outta here by 5pm&#8230; It&#8217;s an evening all of Lagos has been [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=35&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Friday evening&#8230;.</p>
<p>Been resuming by 6:30am and leaving the office at about 9pm for the past 2 weeks&#8230;.but today&#8230;somewhere on the Lagos-Ibadan express way is the girl that stole my heart away&#8230;Been  listening to music and dancin on my seat&#8230;guess i would be outta here by 5pm&#8230;</p>
<p>It&#8217;s an evening all of Lagos has been looking forward to. It&#8217;s the Experience 2007&#8230;an gospel music concert organised by the House on the Rock (Pastor Paul Adefaransi). Tye Tribbett, Kurt Carr, Israel Houghton, Don Moen, Lionel Peterson, Cece Winans, Pastor Marvin Winans and the Hon. Bishop T. D Jakes&#8230;whoa&#8230;let me hear you SSSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;&#8230;..</p>
<p>Okay she is just gone past the redemption camp, she should be&#8230;.here any moment now&#8230;owww..i&#8217;m blushing****</p>
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		<title>Oh no! The parents are in.</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/18/oh-no-the-parents-are-in/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/18/oh-no-the-parents-are-in/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 18 Nov 2007 16:31:20 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[When are you going to tell your parents? I thought you didn&#8217;t want me to tell them. But who would you tell them you are going to see everytime in Ibadan My friend I dont want any wa ha la, just tell them I&#8217;ll tell them in 3 years time Then don&#8217;t talk to me until [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=34&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>When are you going to tell your parents?</p>
<p>I thought you didn&#8217;t want me to tell them.</p>
<p>But who would you tell them you are going to see everytime in Ibadan</p>
<p>My friend</p>
<p>I dont want any wa ha la, just tell them</p>
<p>I&#8217;ll tell them in 3 years time</p>
<p>Then don&#8217;t talk to me until three years time&#8230;.</p>
<p> ______________________________________________</p>
<p>Hi honey, just told my parents i asked you out. They want to know if i&#8217;d pop the big question.</p>
<p>OH MY GOD! SO WHAT WILL YOU TELL THEM! </p>
<p> Well i smartly avoided it by saying it&#8217;s stage by stage&#8230;.</p>
<p> _______________________________________________</p>
<p>Umm, today i finally got to tell my folk about cutie and the response</p>
<p> WHERE IS SHE FROM?</p>
<p>WHAT OF OTHER GIRLS IN CHURCH?</p>
<p>WOULD HER HIGHLY SCHOOLED PARENTS ACCEPT YOU?</p>
<p>SHE IS NOT VERY TALL</p>
<p>WHICH CHURCH DO HER PARENTS ATTEND?</p>
<p>AS A FIRST SON YOU CHOICE IS KEY AS SHE&#8217;LL DECIDE IF THE FAMILY STAYS TOGETHER OR IF YOUR HEART GETS STOLEN AWAY&#8230;.</p>
<p>I sat there answering on question after another and i was wondering&#8230;a really sweet, well bred young lady from a fine stock said yes to your son who owes where he is to God&#8217;s mercy and love and instead of being happy for me you are&#8230;&#8230;</p>
<p>well well i guess i understand, even when my elder sister was getting married to the finest young gentlemam in the church i still felt like xraying his life to make sure he doesn&#8217;t tear us apart.</p>
<p>Dad, mum, love is all that matters&#8230;well and maybe family acceptance, money, religion, friends, beliefs, etc&#8230;but bottom line&#8230;when I look into her eyes, when i hear her voice, even when she tries to annoy me all I see is the future, the future, the future&#8230;cutie&#8230;cutie&#8230;cutie love.</p>
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		<title>The Feminine Touch</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/the-feminine-touch/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/the-feminine-touch/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 20:17:16 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Matters of the Heart]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/the-feminine-touch/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Been really busy the past couple of month. Craving for a vacation. It has been back and forth with one reviewing mgr or the other looking at one report or the other. But in the midst of all these each time I hear the message alert tone (ding dong) or the &#8216;honey bun&#8217; ring tone on my cell phone&#8230;a [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=32&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="margin:0;" class="MsoNormal"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Been really busy the past couple of month. Craving for a vacation. It has been back and forth with one reviewing mgr or the other looking at one report or the other. But in the midst of all these each time I hear the message alert tone (ding dong) or the &#8216;honey bun&#8217; ring tone on my cell phone&#8230;a little knowing smile creeps up on my face. I pick up the phone and the all too familiar name (Cutie) shows up. They say you have to die to experience heaven…but for one brief moment…I seem to creep out of the pressure, toil and sweat….enter into another realm…a realm of peace, joy, and lotsa love…a realm where noting seems to matter but two hearts which beat as one…two souls - bonded…two voices singing the same song, mouthing the same words and thinking the same thoughts. <span> </span></font></span></p>
<p><span></span></p>
<p style="margin:0;" class="MsoNormal"><span><font face="Times New Roman">A few people have asked, what plans do you have for her…question<span>  </span>now should be…what plans do we have for us. Though she hasn’t said yes…we have been fighting over the names of our two girls and the boy (who I’ve been insisting must look like her but she want to look like me)…</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:0;" class="MsoNormal"><span><font face="Times New Roman">…the story goes on</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:0;" class="MsoNormal"><span></span></p>
<p><span></span></p>
<p><span><font size="2" face="Verdana">My love,<br />
There’s only you in my life<br />
The only thing that’s bright</font></span><span><font size="2" face="Verdana"> </font></span><span><font size="2" face="Verdana">My first love,<br />
You’re every breath that I take<br />
You’re every step I make</p>
<p>And i<br />
(i-i-i-i-i)<br />
I want to share<br />
All my love with you<br />
No one else will do&#8230;</p>
<p>And your eyes<br />
Your eyes, your eyes<br />
They tell me how much you care<br />
Ooh yes, you will always be<br />
My endless love</p>
<p>Two hearts,<br />
Two hearts that beat as one<br />
Our lives have just begun</p>
<p>Forever<br />
(ohhhhhh)<br />
I’ll hold you close in my arms<br />
I can’t resist your charms</p>
<p>And love<br />
Oh, love<br />
I’ll be a fool<br />
For you,<br />
I’m sure<br />
You know I don’t mind<br />
Oh, you know I don’t mind</p>
<p>’cause you,<br />
You mean the world to me<br />
Oh<br />
I know<br />
I know<br />
I’ve found in you<br />
My endless love</p>
<p></font></span></p>
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		<title>Life of a Consultant</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/life-of-a-consultant/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/life-of-a-consultant/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 19:54:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/11/03/life-of-a-consultant/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[It’s almost 8:30pm on a Saturday evening. Signed in at the office by 7:30am this morning. Spent 30 minutes in the car park wondering how I’ll drag myself upstairs to start work. It had been a really busy week. I had been constantly closing between 8 and 10pm for the past few weeks thanks to [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=31&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">It’s almost 8:30pm on a Saturday evening. Signed in at the office by 7:30am this morning. Spent 30 minutes in the car park wondering how I’ll drag myself upstairs to start work. It had been a really busy week. I had been constantly closing between 8 and 10pm for the past few weeks thanks to a manager that has been flowing ‘monkeys’ at me. The latest being he asking me to come up with a baseline for review of a Bank’s IT infrastructure. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">BASELINE! BASELINE! BASELINE! </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">First he asked for a work programme for the infrastructure review and I took two days to develop that and submitted it at 12 noon on Friday. Then he calls me a few minutes to 5pm and starts giving a lecture on what he expected and like he said…he couldn’t see the technical depth.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-it’s 20 minutes to five pm on a Friday evening</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-I am starting a new project on Monday</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-I am yet to effect corrections on a proposal you gave me an hour ago</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-I am yet to effect the partner’s corrections on the report for the last project I did </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-I owe another manager my finalised report for a project I conclude in May which the partner is yet to sign off on</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-You are asking me to do a detailed technical s*** in an area I am not very conversant with all these constraint?&#8230;.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">His solution…get someone to work with and hand over to.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? All your experienced hands are off on one project or the other. The guys in the office just resumed a week ago. The only experience person around….well… </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Okay I finally get him on the ‘team’ and after telling him what we had to do he said… ‘let’s come and do it 7-12 tomorrow’. Okay, fine by me. 7am-12noon!</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Saturday 1am: finally went to sleep after a 30 min telephone conversation with&#8230;umm…sweet, yummy, chocolatey, honey…Cutie love…. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Saturday 5am: Wake up! wake up! wake up! House mate back from a party…had to go open the gate</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Saturday 7:15am: off to the ofc</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Saturday 7:20am: passed by ‘team member’s’ house…car still parked</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Saturday 7:30-8:00am: sitting in car sleepy and hungry</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Saturday 8:00am: called ummmmm….Cutie love…to complain and she said go grab a bite</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Saturday 8: 01am: called ‘team member’ and he asked for an hour or two</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">…went back home…ate breakfast…went back to work…briefed team member…started the research and …………..team member said, ‘I have a wedding to attend’</font></span></p>
<p><span><font face="Times New Roman"> </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">&amp;^%*&amp;$%£$”£%^%£$%^%”^E%£%^%*(&amp;(“&amp;**%£&amp;$%$”*&amp;^%”**(£</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">(okay..you just might need a decoder to figure the words out).</font></span></p>
<p><span><font face="Times New Roman"> </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Well I rummaged the net until 1 went home to get a lil nap was back by 6 pm and continued rummaging the net. Got 43 web pages open and…okay bottom line I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I AM DOING! But the good thing about this consulting business is that&#8230;monday morning&#8230;or sometime during the week&#8230;mgr would have his shining report with all the facts and figures he needs. God bless <a href="http://www.ctrlcandctrlv.net/">www.ctrlCandctrlV.net</a></font></span></p>
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		<title>Fiery Memories</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/07/24/30/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/07/24/30/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 24 Jul 2007 18:46:18 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Matters of the Heart]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Spiritual Reflections]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/07/24/30/</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[Writing used to be a passion. I used to boast that I could write a letter to someone that would fill an entire 80 leave notebook. I actually did 40 leaves a couple of times. That seems like such a long time. With the advent of the email and sms I have gotten to lazy [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=30&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Writing used to be a passion. I used to boast that I could write a letter to someone that would fill an entire 80 leave notebook. I actually did 40 leaves a couple of times. That seems like such a long time. With the advent of the email and sms I have gotten to lazy to write long mails. I used to be asked what I write in a forty paged letter, and I wondered why anyone asked. Just imagine that you are with that your dear friend in the same room and you guys are talking about everything. From the person across the room who is annoying you to the tea lady who has an attitude. Once you just flow in a conversational manner, there is not limit to the number of pages you can do. There is always something new to talk about. Ok. Now that I have lost about 90% of my reader I can now wail. My house got burnt two Saturdays ago. I stay with a family friend in an area close to my office but my parents stay at our place. They had gone for an evening meeting and thanks to the terrible traffic, they didn’t get home until 12midnight. Strangely they didn’t go to bed immediately. This was really odd cuz they are not like me who stays awake till 12:30 to make use of the free call period to talk to my <em>cutie love</em>. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">At about 1:30 my mum had a strange feeling that she was going to die. She told popsi who encouraged her to pray. The odd feeling continued and my dad then decided to go round the house. They then perceive a burning smell discovered smoke coming out of the store. The smoke was followed by a fire. Mumsi opened the several padlocks on each of the burglar-proof gates that lagosian are forced to use to go down and get the fire extinguisher in the car. She also went out to get help. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Summary of the long gist is that the fire got into the roof and went from bad to worse. Many neighbours were unwilling to help because to the robbery scare tactics that is been used by the creative men of the underworld. The fire service men came three hours after the fire had started. What was salvaged from the house were a generator set and gas cylinder which had been removed to prevent an explosion, my dad’s laptop, my mum’s cell phone and the clothes on their back. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">T.D. Jakes once said that you never really feel trouble until it hits your home. We hear of people being displaced from their houses in Sudan and we are like…eya. If it come nearer home to Nigeria we feel a bit more concerned. If it’s in our city like the time a number of people lost their lives to a bomb scare from ammunitions at the Ikeja military cantonment we might lose a bit of sleep. It we know a victim we may shed a tear but when trouble hits your own house like near loss or loss of a parent, sibling property, etc…then you’ll stop and really really think. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">There are several questions unanswered-</font></span></p>
<ul>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">How did the fire start? All that was in that store that could have caused a fire was a light bulb that rarely came on.</font></span></p>
</li>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Why was it at that ungodly hour of the night?</font></span></p>
</li>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Is this connected to several other incidences within the same period (dad’s car door been knocked out by a truck, generator set refusing to come on the previous Sunday, death of a dear uncle during an operation to remove a strange brain tumour, starting out of a new church by dad and the several outreaches that have been done-newly printed tracts were brought into the house that evening)</font></span></p>
</li>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">How come they were awake till 1:30am that day?</font></span></p>
</li>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">What made them open all the numerous gates that lead out before the fire got out of hand?</font></span></p>
</li>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Why didn’t God stop the fire or send rain to quench the flames?</font></span></p>
</li>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Why did it happen a few weeks after robbers had used their false alarm tactics to gain access to homes on the street?</font></span></p>
</li>
<li>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">What would have happened if the were fast asleep, or we had a full house like we used to and everyone was asleep?</font></span></p>
</li>
</ul>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">A thousand and one thoughts, a thousand and one unanswered questions.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Silently reflecting on that day</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-holding my dad to consol him as he cried (never seen him cry my whole life-was a real traumatic experience)</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-watching my mum resolved to stay there claiming that God put them outside and they’ll stay outside</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-walking thru the remains of …I don’t even know what I was walking thru’ there was no sign of chairs, tables, shelves, electronic equipments, wardrobes, they all seemed to have disappeared.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-hearing my little sister sob</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">-seeing my ‘exclusive’ residence where passers by wondered if anyone stayed there turn into a tourist center</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">I calmly called to cancel a teaching appointment I had just stating that I had a little family emergency. Yes…then it seemed little to me, was even wondering why Cutie was sad and depressed when I informed her about it. Then it looked like a sad dream that would soon pass. But now I look back and remember…</font></span></p>
<p style="text-indent:-0.25in;margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span>Ø<span style="font:7pt 'Times New Roman';">      </span></span></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">I hardly go home but Easter and Christmas are sacred family reunion moments</font></span></p>
<p style="text-indent:-0.25in;margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span>Ø<span style="font:7pt 'Times New Roman';">      </span></span></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">I always have it behind my mind that even if I have to leave where I am staying now there is home somewhere</font></span></p>
<p style="text-indent:-0.25in;margin:6.5pt 0 6.5pt 0.5in;" class="MsoBodyText"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;"><span>Ø<span style="font:7pt 'Times New Roman';">      </span></span></span><span><font face="Times New Roman">There is a place I can be naughty and lazy and not get thrown out from. I can also invite my friends of any sort to and not bother about rules I am not used to</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">I remember some special moments there…most recently being asking Cutie to go out with me. Yes that was a special evening. Just watched a movie and had dinner. Had pondered on how I would say it and what her response might be. Waited for a moment when we would be alone and then I told her that I wanted to ask a question. The earth, sun, and stars seemed to stop in there course as the words tumbled out one after the other. Then my heart seem to stop for a minute awaiting her response…unfortunately it did not come immediately for she asked that I kept talking for an hour. AN HOUR! A WHOLE HOUR! Why? How? What was I to say? I am not the talking type (I have my moments though but definitely not that evening.) she’d have asked for pages upon pages of romantic mail…that’ll be a breeze but talk! My goodness! But if that was the price I’ll have to pay for a dashing young lady with a heart more costly than gold can afford, more precious than diamonds, more beautiful than a choice collection of pearls, then it shall be done. I started off like I would my lenghty letters. Chronologically spicing it up with a side gist hear and there. I talked of how my sister (they were room mates in year 1 and have been good friends since then) had made me crave for a meeting with her. I had heard so much about Jaded (her name) that I was beginning to fall in love. The first time we met was a the wedding of one of my friends. She was simply stunning. Her make up was so simple and natural looking, her out fit was casual, her hair was natural. She looked romantically out of place like a goddess in disguise among mankind. I stole as much glances that I could safely do at the virtual lover I thought I’d never meet. She had come with my sister from school that day. As soon as I learnt that they’ll be passing the night in my house, before she travels back to her state. All my plans for that evening was suspended. I told the folks I stayed with that I would be going home…<em>to see my parents</em>.<span>  </span></font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">So I went home <em>to see my parents </em>and tried to make out guest comfortable. Tried to get audience with her since she seemed to have a lot of fans that evening. Learnt as much as I could and I was afraid that I have finally met her. What got me hooked what the simple fact that she was easy to talk to. I managed to cunningly get her number at the park the next day. Then the follow up began. From October 14 2006 to April 15 2007, I daily had more reasons to ask this young lady out. She seemed to do and say the right thing always. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Desired to spend my Christmas in Jos but the thought of the cold, and spending this sacred moment in a strange town in a little hotel room, and seeing her for just a few moments since I hadn’t asked her yet was enough to make me shelve the idea.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">February 14 was an ideal date for lover. Would definitely be an ideal date to start a new love…but having to go to work and the thought of driving all the way to University of Ibadan with a bouquet of roses, chocolates and cake…getting there and meeting some other guy was enough to snuff out that though. So I passed. I had to do more background check. I called to wish her a happy V-day and coyly asked how may flowers and toasters had come calling. From her response didn’t seem like there was any particular special person (a ray of hope). Then I had to use what I had to get what I wanted. Called up my sister and asked if there was any guy on the scene. She said there was nothing serious. Just one casual one for a guy that she was not so crazy about. Well well, then my head started working over time. I have got to get to this girl…FASTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT. Planed a trip to Ibadan but had a strange tummy upset. The I heard she was coming for Easter and the rest….</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">An hour passed quickly and I had fulfilled the test, or at least what I though I was…then I got the shocker of the year…</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">‘…I DON’T KNOW YOU ENOUGH…’</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Jezz……I could knock this babe over…I had called you at least once a week for several months, my sister had told you a lot about me (I trust my sister to lay it all out), I had spent the last ONE HOUR, ONE WHOLE HOUR, jabbering about my love adventure and not you don’t know WHAT! Do you know who you are talking to? Do you know how many young girls who I am close to who’ll give anything to be in your place? You came from no where and now you are telling me that you need to take history lessons before you agree to be my girlfriend. I aint asking you to marry me for goodness sake! If I had, you probably would want a Physics, Chemistry and Biology lesson on me before I hit the consideration list. So what was all my talk for? E hen? My people please tell me o! make una com judge this matter. If girl no like man sebi she go talk say im no want instead of make im ask the man to write 3,600 words essay. Nah wah o. I never see this kind one before.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Well, it wasn’t that dramatic, well may be not outside my head. Gentle (my name), meek and mind just acted cool, calm, collected and gentlemanly (JEZZ COULD HAVE BURSTED). I listened to her soft sonorous voice give reasons why it was too sudden to decide. She talked so responsibly I would have sworn she was much older than I was. Can’t remember what the conclusion was but I knew that I’ll have to wait…long…<em>for the history lessons to be over</em>. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Over the year, I had learnt the act of making and keeping female friends (just normal friends). I did it so easily in school that when I got out of school and started working, I drew back into myself. I hadn’t always been like that. In primary and secondary school I barely spoke to any. My female classmates and boarding house mates claimed never to have heard my voice. Could freeze if a pretty girl tried to talk to me. I would literally stammer when I talk to them. There are still signs of that now but I have come a long way. This all changed dramatically in my second year when I met Chuks (a new guy in the hostel). I schooled in the east so it was difficult meeting a refined person. The first time I meet him it was like…finally a window in a dungeon. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">My fascination with him was his ease to talk and win the heart of girl. I saw him meet one for the first time and got her house address in Lagos in about 10 minutes.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Didn’t know how it happened (diffusion maybe) but by the end of my third year, I had free access to almost all the rooms in the female block which had 48 rooms. By the time I was graduating…later I heard stories from my brother who was still there how my name lived on…even my birthday was celebrated in my absence… (I’d attribute part of the fame to my cakes-a guy reputed to make the best cake in a little town would definitely command the attention of quite a few females especially in an area where men hardly cook).</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">So I knew how to play my card and hope that she likes me. Within the next few month, just called regularly about other things. Kept in touch constantly and seemed not to care that I had shocked her a while ago with my intentions. There were moments I was tired and I did share my frustrations with a couple of friends. But I never let it out to her. A few time I thought of asking her to forget it but somehow hope prevailed. </font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Today I look at my two phones-fill with sms which I constantly have to delete all attributed to a young slim fair skinned lady 1000km away whom I haven’t seen since I got the sms that said ‘…yes I think so…yes’.</font></span></p>
<p style="margin:6.5pt 0;" class="MsoBodyText"><span><font face="Times New Roman">Memories, memories would never be burnt by any raging fire. You may burn my clothes, car, house and even my flesh, but my memories would still remain. Memories of love, joy happiness, hope, blessings, and one glance at her cute lovely face. </font></span></p>
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		<title>Finally&#8230;homerun&#8230;</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/06/16/finallyhomerun/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/06/16/finallyhomerun/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sat, 16 Jun 2007 14:55:37 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Matters of the Heart]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Today, I sit looking at my phone bill noting that calls to a particular person totalled over N5,500 or $41 within a month. She finally said yes on her birthday 30 May. I had given up on ever starting a relationship or falling in love. It&#8217;s been just over two weeks and my life really has not been the [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=28&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Today, I sit looking at my phone bill noting that calls to a particular person totalled over N5,500 or $41 within a month. She finally said yes on her birthday 30 May. I had given up on ever starting a relationship or falling in love. It&#8217;s been just over two weeks and my life really has not been the same. From being despirate cuz of a deadlock to feeling like the luckiest guy in the planet. In the young cute chic, I see all I ever want in a lady. They say you cant have it all but I say I do have it all in one package. Now I have won her heart I feel like I am at sea at what to do or say&#8230;need to start reading Men are from Mars Women are from Venus&#8230;.Just want to say and do all the right things to keep her love forever&#8230;.and a day.</p>
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		<title>The Pony In the Dung Heap</title>
		<link>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/05/02/the-pony-in-the-dung-heap/</link>
		<comments>http://4mytyme.wordpress.com/2007/05/02/the-pony-in-the-dung-heap/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 02 May 2007 18:03:34 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>4mytyme</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Heard this story yesterday at a seminar. It made a impression and I found out that it was one of President Ronald Reagan&#8217;s favourite jokes. The joke concerns twin boys of five or six. Worried that the boys had developed extreme personalities &#8212; one was a total pessimist, the other a total optimist &#8212; their parents took them [...]<img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=4mytyme.wordpress.com&amp;blog=736905&amp;post=27&amp;subd=4mytyme&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="line-height:140%;margin:5pt 0 5pt 7.5pt;" class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:9pt;color:black;line-height:140%;font-family:Verdana;">Heard this story yesterday at a seminar. It made a impression and I found out that it was one of President Ronald Reagan&#8217;s favourite jokes.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size:9pt;color:black;line-height:140%;font-family:Verdana;">The joke concerns twin boys of five or six. Worried that the boys had developed extreme personalities &#8212; one was a total pessimist, the other a total optimist &#8212; their parents took them to a psychiatrist. </span><span style="font-size:9pt;color:black;line-height:140%;font-family:Verdana;">First the psychiatrist treated the pessimist. Trying to brighten his outlook, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with brand-new toys. But instead of yelping with delight, the little boy burst into tears. &#8220;What&#8217;s the matter?&#8221; the psychiatrist asked, baffled. &#8220;Don&#8217;t you want to play with any of the toys?&#8221; &#8220;Yes,&#8221; the little boy bawled, &#8220;but if I did I&#8217;d only break them.&#8221; </span><span style="font-size:9pt;color:black;line-height:140%;font-family:Verdana;">Next the psychiatrist treated the optimist. Trying to dampen his out look, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with horse manure. But instead of wrinkling his nose in disgust, the optimist emitted just the yelp of delight the psychiatrist had been hoping to hear from his brother, the pessimist. Then he clambered to the top of the pile, dropped to his knees, and began gleefully digging out scoop after scoop with his bare hands. &#8220;What do you think you&#8217;re doing?&#8221; the psychiatrist asked, just as baffled by the optimist as he had been by the pessimist. &#8220;With all this manure,&#8221; the little boy replied, beaming, &#8220;there must be a pony in here somewhere!&#8221; </span></p>
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