Everyday -- Rogue Wave

And now, back to your regularly scheduled programming....

First of all, can I just say -- HOLY SHIT!  YES WE FRIGGING CAN!!!!  A beautiful reminder that democracy does and can work.  The people spoke and their voice was loud and clear.  Amen to hope and Amen to change.  And Amen to having gravitas back in the Oval Office.

Second of all, HI!  How are you?  I do hope you've been great.  It's been a long time, ey?  All I can say is A LOT's happened since we last spoke -- some of it good, a lot of it very, very challenging.  Between all of these ups and downs (which I'll be expanding on in the coming days), it's been a bit difficult to find energy or inspiration to blog, but I figure the only way to change that is to start blogging, so here I am.  

I've updated the playlist too, and more additions'll be made to that in the next few days also.  You know that even the roughest of life's vicissitudes could not deter my continual search for great music.  Ooooh, and I went to see Amos Lee two days ago @ the 930 Club in DC.  Can I have one of his babies, please??  Pretty please??!  A brrrriillliant show -- wish you coulda been there.  For the fans, he KILLED Black River, Night Train, Won't Let Me Go and What's Been Going On.  I could have hooked you up with some nice audio but for the nazi stage manager keeping watch.  Next time...

Right, I'm rambling cos it's almost 5 in the morning and this homegirl needs sleep.  But I wanted you to know that I'm not dead and I'm not in Nigeria (what's the difference?) and I shall be bringing you more tales and not-even-remotely-profound insights from my misadventures in short order.  Stay tuned...

Today -- Joshua Radin

I get told that I’m weird often. Very often. So often that I’ve come to wear it as a badge of honor almost. There isn’t another one of me out there. I process things differently. Sometimes, I have to remind myself to not say certain things out loud for fear of just freaking people the hell out. I enjoy a lot of different things and a lot of different people and I enjoy remaining an enigma, liable to say any damn thing at any moment if time. I enjoy not being predictable, run-of-the-mill or ordinary.

But then there are those days -- like today -- when I just want to be got. I need to be able to be upset and have someone know exactly why… someone who knows what the crux of the issues is, even if I don’t. I want to be able to talk for hours to someone about how Joni Mitchell moves me and not feel like I’m being thought of as a poser or a dork. Just on days like today, I want to be able to cry hysterically and not feel like I had to explain why, even to myself. I want to not have to lose hair over the fact that I may have unwittingly offended someone I care about because they just get that I am naïve and stupid and whatever it was, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I want to be encouraged, without being talked down to.

Today, I want someone to tell me it’ll be alright and I want to be able to believe them. just today,

Hubba hubba!!!!!!

GIMME!!! GIMMMMEEEE!!!!!

Dooney & Bourke Girly Tulip Tassle Tote

In the presence of this bag, I have lost the ability to speak in complete sentences. It's just $150 and I know you're feeling generous. Come on, you know you want to!!!!

Falling Awake -- Gary Jules.

Sometimes, I just want to over-indulge in the most destructive ways possible just so I can feel something other than abject misery. I think I’m not alone – I’m guessing this is why people over-eat, over-sleep, spend more than their monthly wage in clothes and shoes and sundry bits of useless shit they don’t need, mess with people that they shouldn’t, drink too much, et cetera. Right now, I’m about two dress sizes above where I started out at the end of last summer and I’m also mostly broke, with the possibility of having to move to another country at the end of the summer on the horizon. Why is it then that all I want to do is shop and eat? I’m sitting at my computer scouring the internet for some new piece of something that promises to (but never does) fill the giant hole that has gnawed its way through the center of me. This morning, I procured for myself a new pair of Nike’s, supposedly for the sake of facilitating my work-out – but really, I just wanted some new shit. I’m now on Macys.com, fishing around for what I’m not entirely sure, but I’m sure that it’ll be at my front door within 3 – 5 business days.

Ice-cream in the freezer is gone, beer in the fridge has been vanished. Thinking about going to get some more – not that I really want any, but focusing on the temporary pleasure from that will hopefully distract me from the current overwhelming, disheartening, disappointing series of events that is my life. Of course then I’ll get even fatter and then be even more depressed and want to eat some more. Is it just me that does not see an end in sight to this cycle?

What I’m Listening to Now: Falling Awake by Gary Jules. He gets it. It takes a few listens though. It's in the playlist to the right.

Star Mile -- Joshua Radin

See, this is what happens when you spend the last two hours of your day watching videos of John Mayer on YouTube. You spend the next eight hours of your well-deserved rest dreaming about being at a private concert for...oh, about 50 of John's closest friends and fans...where you're sitting in the front row and John is playing to you and joking with you and dancing with you. As a result, you wake up more knackered than you went to sleep. But it was worth it! One day, John and I will be together......

Shut up. I'm not deluded. I just want to be the guitar.

A Change is Gonna Come -- Sam Cooke

So it's day two of mummy's visit and no major mishaps yet. In fact, things have gone rather swimmingly thus far.

I couldn't find a ride to get her from the airport, but fortunately my big brother and his sexy-ass friend pulled through :-). Can I digress for a moment to talk about that? You don't care? Ah well, I'll just move on...

She gave her usual criticisms about hair, skin, makeup, nails, clothes, my condo, my empty fridge, but i think i emerged relatively unscathed. I think i mostly agreed with her, actually. Could it be that we have finally reached that point -- that tipping point in the mother-daughter dynamic where i no longer see her as an unreasonable, overbearing, tyrannical lunatic and she no longer sees me as a self-involved, insolent, pig-headed heathen brat??? Could it be that we've reached the point where everything she says is not instantly nullified based solely on the fact that she said it? Could we be growing -- gulp -- to see eye to eye? If you're not a girl and have never been a teenage girl, you can't possibly imagine how scary a thought this is.

Check back in with me on Day 26 when I'm sure order would have been restored to the universe.

What I'm Listening to Now: The Weepies -- "The World Spins Madly On". That it does. Enjoy.

Can't Get it Right Today -- Joe Purdy

As every day passes, my chances of remaining in this country that i have grown to love and in which i had planned to live well into the foreseeable future diminish like a fading star.

For those of you fortunate enough to not be familiar with the US Immigration process, here's a little recap. You study for four (or in my case, five) years -- bust your ass to get the best grades so you're never passed up for any internship or scholarship opportunities. You spend all four summers interning, missing out on all of those road trips and summer vacations that you'll never again have time or chance to take. You participate in co-ops and extra credit assignments and you head up organizations and fundraisers and community services activities, all in the vain hope that when it comes down to it, you'll be deigned worthy to be given full-time employment at a prestigious firms which will file for you with the INS to change your immigration status from bastard-student (the dreaded F-1 visa) to glorified-worker (the much sought-after H-1B visa).

Now, even if you were so lucky as to find that firm that is willing to spring the couple thousand dollars it costs to file for you (and many firms are not, by the way). you now have to contend with every other newly graduated hopeful because your name goes into a great big ol' ballot-box. Yup, all your hard work and fun-less summers boil down to a simple lottery. A game of chance. A roll of the dice.

So it is that i find myself, sitting and waiting, checking on the status of my case every 15 minutes, in the hope that some random USCIS employee just happened to find my application lying at the bottom of some pile 3 minutes ago, stamped it (or whatever it is they do) and has forwarded it on to whomever these things get forwarded to, thus putting me out of my misery. This has not happened yet, so in the meantime, i have to put up with having the conversation, "Have you heard yet? My friend XYZ just found out -- do you maybe want to check again? It's getting pretty late in the game. When last did you check??" every 30 seconds.

Oh, did I neglect to mention what happens if you are not blessed with this heaven-sent visa? Yeah, you have to leave. Do not pass 'Go'. Do not collect $200. Which, in my case, would mean, selling a house (or renting it out and becoming a remote landlady), finding a place to live in a country to which i have not been in at least 6 years (more, depending on which country we're talking about), saying bye to the friends and siblings whom i have grown to depend on for life (basically), potentially finding a new job and generally, pulling my life up from the root. If i could only find a way to develop acceptance (or resignation) that whatever happens is for the best, the next few waiting days might not seem quite so life-alteringly interminable.

What I'm Listening to Now: "Good Life" by Francis Dunnery. It's from the SCRUBS soundtrack -- need i say more? Guy breaks up with girl only to discover years later that it was probably the worst decision he ever could have made. Simple guitar, great vocals, great lyrics. Have a listen, it's gorgeous.

Better Than Nothing -- Maria Mena

I hate that i still love you, even though you treated me like shit.

I hate that I miss you, even though you haven't left yet.

I hate that I'm jealous of you because your father was alive to walk you down the aisle.

I hate that I let you make me feel less than.

I hate that I am so easily influenced.

I hate that I am too weak-willed to fight the depression when it threatens to take over everything.

I hate that I lose perspective.

I hate that I need you to make me feel normal again.

I hate that I need you, but I do.

I hate that you've made me doubt myself and all of my friendships.

I hate that I eat to fill a hole, but I won't stop.

I hate that I think of you all the goddamn time, but I don't know where you are.

I love you but I hate you for having everything I want.

I hate owning up to all of this, but they say acceptance is the first step toward recovery.

Let the healing begin.

What I'm Listening to Now: "Make Me Better" by Fabolous and Ne-Yo. A hook I had over-looked months ago when this single came out just re-entered my subconscious and I can't get it out. I am fabolous (pardon the pun) without you, but super-fantastic with you. A happy medium between your standard "baby, let's go back to my place" R&B jams and your standard "before you came into my life, I was a helpless, hopeless, hapless mess" love song. Love it.

Fell In Love With A Boy -- Joss Stone

Okay, so I’ve been trying to blog for the last few weeks but between working 70 hours a week and just feeling generally uninspired, this has not quite come to fruition. But now, I have no choice. Because I need to blog about this issue to clear my head and really decide how I feel about this particular subject.

Today is Charter Day. This is largely insignificant to me save for the fact that it is a celebration of the day that my alma mater received its charter (I presume) and had that day not occurred, this blogger’s life might have turned out very, very differently. The college throws a huge shebang every year – like, really swanky – black-tie, dinner dress, expensive jewelry, dress-to-impress, live band, five-course meal kinda swanky– and I have never had the pleasure of being invited. Not throughout all my years of being courted by different companies, being in leadership positions in various organizations, being friends with people who move and shake things. Never. Not that I am bitter or anything, but I’m just saying. ANYWAY, this is not the point. The point is that I was invited this year by a friend and while its always fun to get dolled up and hang out with the college peeps, there is one college peep that I am not sure that I want to see, but at the same, 100% sure that if I don’t see, the night would be a total and complete waste of my time. Let’s call him Mr. Big. According to my sources, he was at the event last year, which attracts alumni from far and wide and in particular, New York City.

Let me give you the back-story of Mr. Big. I tend to think of him as The One That Got Away – every other guy that I have ever crushed on, talked to, dreamt of, been out with pales in significance when pitted against Mr Big. He made me believe that even I deserved someone great, who was smart and generous and sexy and tall, dark and handsome. And NIGERIAN! (Whoever saw that one coming???) He was one of those who I didn’t even let myself think about because I thought he was so far out of my league, but then he started talking to me. And we grew closer and the next thing I know, he was traveling to Europe and sending me postcards and buying me my favorite chocolates and meeting my family, who took to him like white on rice (very unusual I think, if you knew my family) and insisting on introducing me to his mum and being ridiculously gracious to my friends. And then one day, it all switched off and I began to feel like I was a nuisance to him so I stopped calling and he stopped calling, so we stopped talking. And that was that. No resolution. No closure. No Mr. Big.

My pride which kept me from getting to know him sooner also kept me from reconnecting with him the few times that our paths kinda sorta crossed (he’d show up at Charter Day and talk to Ri about how he needs to call me and how he misses talking to me or he’d bump into my baby bro at a recruiting session and prank-call me from his phone). I tried to push him as far into the recesses of my mind as I could for my own self-preservation and sanity. And for my pride.

So it is that I find myself now ready to deal with my Mr. Big; to see him and talk to him and make him see just how fabulous I really am. Just so it hurts even more when I flip the script and walk out on him.

I've Got the World on a String -- Frank Sinatra

Well hello! How was your weekend??? Mine was fabulous, thanks for asking. After work Friday, I finally got to hang out with my buddy who I haven't seen in a hot minute. My house has seen her, because she's often over at my place while I'm slaving away at my desk, but not I! We went to get Jamaican food -- in our pajamas. Can't beat some steaming curry chicken and rice with a nice, cold Apple Everfresh! And then we watched Lipstick Jungle, which is my latest guilty pleasure (I'm planning to marry Andrew McCarthy in my mind). Watched half an episode of Gilmore Girls before I passed out on my couch (my ABSOLUTE favorite thing to do on a Friday night) .

Saturday was spent largely on the phone and on Skype, catching up with Oh (my favorite thing to do on a Saturday afternoon!) and thinking of all the things I should have been doing but i was unable to do because I couldn't move from my computer. After about 3 hours with Oh, I moved on to four hours with Toy, which was an extremely productive conversation that left me feeling a lot more positive and excited about the upcoming year. That's why she's my second half, isn't it? More on that at another date. More Gilmore Girls and more phone-time with my boobie and then it was bedtime at about 230am.

Got up early Sunday with a mind for SHOPPING! Headed into the city and did some damage to my financial health. Got my makeup done (my favorite thing to do any day of my life), bought a pair of sexy-ass boots which will be making their grand debut sometime this week, a couple sweaters and then spent some quality time in West Elm being inspired. I can't wait till I get my home to where I want it to be. My little port in the storm. My little hole in the world. My precious little underground bunker. Soon.

Got home a while ago and have been listening to John Coltrane, Ella Fitzgerald, Etta James, my beloved Dinah Washington and a little Nina Simone ever since. Boy, they don't make it like they used to. How can i be nostalgic for a time when i didn't even exist? I can't describe the way i feel when i listen to this music -- there is something so warm and rich and full and sincere and raw about it that seems to be largely absent in music today. Listen to Coltrane's "My One and Only Love" and tell me you don't want to fall in love with someone -- anyone! -- on the spot. Tell me Nina Simone's "Here Comes the Sun" doesn't make you tear up inspite of yourself. Or listen to Dinah Washington's "Teach Me Tonight" and tell me that isn't the most subtly sexy song you've heard in a loooong time. "One for my Baby" by Ol/ Blue Eyes, anything by Nat King Cole, In short, I'll just take a second to thank George and Ira Gershwin and give props to Cole Porter, Irving Berlin and all their contemporaries for their brilliant words and compositions, without which my life would be infintely less interesting. And thanks to my momma for teaching me, in addition to all the other wonderful things that she did, to listen outside my box.

Work tomorrow. Back to reality.

What I'm Listening to Now: The entire friggin' Great American Songbook. To me, without a doubt, 1`the best pop songs ever written. Absolutely timeless. Currently jamming to Diana Krall's take on "Fly Me to the Moon" though. Astrud Gilberto also does a worthy rendition. But you can't beat Mr Sinatra. Ever.

What About Love -- Lemar

This is almost definitely the only time you’ll hear me admit to this because as a woman of the 21st century who done graduated from college twice, pays her own mortgage and doesn’t take a damn thing from nobody, this is totally not kosher. Here’s my startling admission: Shudder. I want to be taken care of. Believe me, I know how this sounds. It’s ridiculous, but it’s true. And I feel that if I can’t admit it to you now, my dear non-judgmental reader, as it is Valentine’s Day, when can i? Please don’t get me wrong – I don’t mean financially, even though a couple dollars here and there certainly wouldn’t hurt one little bit, if you know what I’m saying (wink, wink). I want to be loved the way they do in all those great love songs. Deep breath….

I want someone to hold who knows how to love me without being told. (Natasha Bedingield)

I want to be thought of every morning and dreamt of every night. (Nat King Cole)

I want to be missed. (Natalie Cole)

I want someone who knows how bizarre and nonsensical I am and loves me in spite, or perhaps even because, of it. (That one’s mine)

I want that just-can’t-live-without-each-other love. (Lemar)

I want a man who loves music, a man who loves art, respects the spirit world and thinks with his heart. (India Arie)

I want to come in from the cold. (Marc Broussard)

Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed, follow my lead, oh how I need….someone to watch over me. (Ol’ Blue Eyes)

Happy Valentine’s Day.

What I’m Listening to Now:
“My Love” --- Sara Bareilles. You already know this is ma gurl so you should not be surprised that I am recommending yet ANOTHER one of her songs. In the spirit of the day though, this one is about longing, and longing for her One Sweet Love (which is incidentally the name of another Sara song that I highly recommend). Favorite lyric: “He may be ordinary in the best ways and still dance like a poet through every word he says”. Amen sister.

Margaritaville -- Jimmy Buffet

Sadie is sitting at work feeling very, very badly about not having updated in many moons. She apologizes and promises her two readers that before the week is out, she shall have completed two juicy posts about love (or the lack thereof) and family in all its glory and misery. The pressure is on. Check back later. Happy Monday.

What I'm Listening to Now: Nothing really, as I have failed to renew my Napster subscription, being the broke ass that I am. Wenh!!!!!!

Addendum....

In my haste to post a new entry the other day (due to pressure from forces that shall go unnamed), I neglected to include my obligatory "What I'm Listening to Now" section. This error shall now be corrected, because I must share with you the song I've been listening to obsessively for the last few days. It's called "Going Whichever Way" by Peter Droge and you can listen at his MySpace page below. I heard the first few bars from a new car commercial (it completely escapes me which now) but I just had to find it. What the hell did we do before the internet??? Anyway, I'm having a hard time describing his sound -- sort of ethereal, folksy singer-songwriter type with a sort of Iron and Wine or Belle & Sebastian vibe, but a little less melancholy and with great harmonies. Love, love, love it. Lemme know what you think. G'night!

Peter Droge: http://www.myspace.com/petedroge

Long Line of Pain -- Amos Lee

Ladies and Gentlemen:

I would like to take a brief moment to explain to you what is known, in some circles, as “busy season”. Here’s a hint before I get started though – it’s a season and it is very, very busy. Shocking, I know. If you’re an auditor (i.e. the last legal form of indentured servitude) or you have friends who are, you know this term well. Between January and mid-March, your ass belongs to whichever public accounting firm you have been fool enough to sell it to for the tuppence that you have agreed to accept as biweekly pay. You get to work at the butt-crack of dawn and routinely watch the sun rise from your desk. You see the cleaners so often, you now know the names of their children in ascending order of age and the name of their favorite pop group. You work through what used to be your lunch-break and is now just the ten minutes (usually around 3:45pm) during which you run to the bathroom, check your voicemail, check your email and/or catch your breath. You deal with bitchy clients, bitchy managers, bitchy receptionists, co-workers who used to be congenial but who are now just bitchy because they can’t stand busy season either. You get fat because of all the other things that your firm has denied you (life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness), it will provide you with the equivalent of your body weight in food with the highest caloric content possible. Here’s a snapshot into the snack-drawer (more like snack-closet) at my most recent busy season client – KitKat, Cheez-it, Cheetos, Doritos, Lays, Twix, Hershey bar, Ferrero Rocher (we’re classy, y’know!), Twix, Twizzlers, Reese’s Cups, Pringles, cupcakes, fruit snacks -- all in bags weighing about a hundred pounds each. And what happens when you get frustrated, irritated and all-round aggravated? You reach for the snack drawer and pretty soon, your sizeable arse can no longer fit in your pathetic Office Depot swivel chair.

Of course, because of all the snacks you’ve been eating, you begin to break out, so you’re not just fat, you’re pimply and ugly too. This brings with it a wave of self-consciousness and low self-esteem comparable only, perhaps, to your ‘awkward teen years’. Perhaps. Your teeth begin to degenerate because you’ve basically been surviving on pure sugar and where do you think you’re going to find the time to visit a licensed dental professional? Not this busy season! You better pray your teeth hang in there till April.

When you notice the sun setting, you realize the second part of your day is just beginning! Your shoes start coming off under your little desk and you start getting real comfy – maybe you’re even sitting Buddha-style with your firm-issued laptop sitting beside your fifth cup of coffee of the day. The air-conditioner goes off, the client is long gone, the fatigue and the depression sets in because you realize you’ve still got a full day’s work ahead of you and the partner’s just shown up. When you eventually get to leave work, your friends (remember those people? No? I didn’t think so) are practically already in bed. Oh, let’s talk about that – personal relationships. They’re shot. Just forget it. They’re shot because not only do you not really have any time to commit to nurturing these relationships, you’re so burned out from the day that the little time you do find to converse, you’re irritated, wired and snappish. So let’s recap; your formerly fabulous self has become an over-worked, under-paid, burned-out, pissed off, fat, pimply, love-less, friendless, sleep-deprived, caffeine-dependent mess, ticking and tying from here to eternity. Ladies and gentlemen, this is busy season.

My Travelling Star --- James Taylor

A couple of major trips planned for the upcoming year including three weddings, a girlfriends-trip to Vegas, a stop in the NYC among other misadventures in lands far and near. The first wedding (in order of occurrence and not necessarily importance, even though it is pretty huge) is the wedding of my darling Dee’s big sister. Now, weddings are always (well, usually) wonderfully joyous occasions but this one is especially so because I haven’t seen my friend in -- what is it – maybe two and a half years now since she shipped off back to Lagos and decided never to return to me. We’ve been very close for the last nine years almost so when I heard she was States-bound, I had to make myself abundantly available, even if it does mean going to A-town for a weekend.

Second wedding would the nuptials of good childhood friend from waaaay back in the day – we probably all started going to the same church something in the neighbourhood of thirteen years ago, and now the kid done gone and got himself engaged to a chick whom I can only assume from word of mouth is deserving of the wonderfulness that is M. If they’ll have us, a bunch of us are planning on heading north to represent Mama Naija well well (grab your gele and asoebi o!). The wedding is supposed to take place somewhere in New England and Lord knows I’ve literally have been waiting since childhood to see parts of New England in the summer (weekend on the Vineyard, anyone?) so it’ll be fantastic for multiple reasons in the event that it comes to fruition.

Third up is my big sister’s wedding in Leeds. A little bit of a hike, I know, but how many times does one of your best friends get married, ey? (Well, in this case, it’s twice but everyone knows that registrar mess doesn’t count). There’s all kinds of visa things and money things and time-off-work things to figure out but I get to be a bridesmaid and people don’t make that mistake too many times, so I’ll be taking full advantage. Drama is anticipated but this is the case with any gathering of my family (and I’m sure yours too, yes?) so I shan’t complain.

And finally, the trip to Vegas. I am excited to bursting. I booked us into the Tuscany Suites which is, as the name might imply, a hotel made up entirely of suites. It’s a ten minute walk off the strip (a block and a half away from the Belagio) and supposedly safer and quieter than living on the Strip proper. It’ll be Labor Day weekend so everyone’ll be in town (including the four or five of my girls that are heading out there) and I intend to party like it’s, well, 2008.

So that’s it for the roaming about for the year – I’ll fill you in on how many of these trips actually end up taking (given my track record, I figure I’ve done well if I hit 75%). Oh, something interesting I ought to mention while I’m blogging. So I spoke to the Older Guy yesterday and will be having dinner with him and his son next week – YIKES! Definitely more than a little apprehensive about that as I’m much better with grown folk than with people my age – the 20-somethings are so jaded and unflappable! I shall blog about developments as they occur. Good night my loves!

What I’m Listening to Now:
“How’s the World Treating You” – Allison Krauss & James Taylor

(The perfect combination of my favorite male and female vocalist, the song is delivered like a classic country-pop ballad about lost love but with soul. Wouldn’t expect any less than sheer perfection from these two)

Vogue -- Madonna

You ever have one of those days when your couture is just working for you? You know it from the moment you put that ensemble together that you are in the presence of fashion greatness. Those black patent leather peep-toe pumps with the tan trim, the brown leather satchel handbag, that sleek sleeveless black turtleneck, the little tan pencil skirt that hugs in all the right places all fit together like they were born to do it. For once, the hair concedes to your every wish and those dangling earrings embellish the look effortlessly. You walk different – taller, sharper, faster – and everyone can see it. You get hit on by an entirely different caliber of dude while trying to procure your daily bacon, egg and cheese sammich from the local deli; no longer merely the unwashed and unshaven (as is, let’s be honest, your forte), but rather the brokers and traders of the world with business cards and requests to be “shot an email” at your earliest convenience. You strut into work, flirt a little with the security guard in the building (who is of course a bright, good-looking lad working his way through college – or at least, he is in my head!), and arrive every so stylishly and on time with coffee and sandwich in hand at your desk.

From here on, the wonder and magic of the fabulous work of art that is your outfit carries you through the day. Somehow, you even manage to become more intelligent, as if the smartness of your outfit somehow translated into the kind of smarts that help you audit financial statements with more ease and dexterity than you’ve ever managed before. You receive your due props from your colleagues and superiors. You’re just walking on air, aren’t you?

And then you go home, take your fabulous self to bed and then wake up the next morning and the magic is GONE. You sleep through your alarm, your hair falls flat, you can’t find your earrings, you miss your bus, you get your random holla from the crackhead in the street, your breakfast tastes like feet, nothing at work makes sense, your boss starts to wonder why she hired you in the first place. But you don’t mind so terribly because, to be honest, this is more like life as you know it.