I put it to you….

September 15, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha68 Comments

I have learnt that your happiness is that which you seek diligently. That you should grab it with both hands and guard it like chosen treasure.

That the state of happiness can be a cultivated state of mind, by applying simple but life changing attitudes.

A forgiving heart and a generous spirit.
Learning to turn mistakes into lessons.
Always revert within and seek your inner peace.
Leave the sweating of the small stuff behind.
Be grateful and thankful always.
Learn to love yourself and cascade it to others.
Build relationships.
Drop the mental slavery and stop dwelling on the past. It will never come back.
Spend your time on meaningful ways of looking forward to the future.
Rough it through even though it might start out difficult, that situation too shall pass.

Let me share with you a little article I wrote a while ago:

Your real home lies within you.
Not the bricks and mortar house of glamor that you reside in.

All painted and glossy with every top of the range appliance that money can buy.

That my friend, is just your physical abode.

Your real home lies within you,

Yet the home within you is neglected, in shambles and in quandary,

That even a stray pet would not want to live in there,

Take care of the real home that lies within you;

Fill it with good things,

A large portion of love,

A fresh harvest of thanksgiving

A handful of forgiveness,

Some tablespoons of honesty,

A jug of faith,

A dash of loyalty,

An ounce of friendship,

Three tablespoons of tenderness,

A whole shake of patience,

One big barrel of laughter

And a large dose of prayer.

Blend it all together, and bake it in the oven of your heart with a pan of Hope until it is well done.

Serve your guests daily with generous portions,
And your real home will definitely gleam with splendor.

In response to: Writing 101 – Day 7: Hook ’em with a quote

Fiction · Writing

Mindless….

September 10, 2015September 10, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha27 Comments

Time had halted ages ago. The filtered light through the reinforced window the only sign that life still existed. The rays create colored rainbows and sometimes, when she looks hard enough she sees a bird soar past. A desire for freedom rises once again within her shriveled bosom.

Voice cords long broken from screaming herself hoarse, from days to months to years and decades, she knows that no one cared, for no one came.
No sound filters in, no sound leaks out. This concrete walls covered in etchings of her mindless rambling. Pleading with the jailer to do away with her, to end the madness of the dementia, but he preferred to keep her.

Each day he comes with scrapes to keep her alive.
Each day he reads to her and combs her unruly long locks with trembling hands.
Talking to her in yet another soothing manner. Reminding her of the years that belonged in another life.

Her strength has grown feeble over incarcerated years, her limbs long waxed and waned from disuse, her only strength, are the spurious thoughts of her mind. She always waits for the imaginary one to come. To talk to her, to caress her itchy scalp and drive her round in the imaginary car.

The twinge of the iron latch, breaks through mad reverie and he walks in softly, bearing warm oats and a comb.

In response to Writing 101 assignment 4: A story in a single image

The Daily Post

Shopping by Moonlight…

September 9, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha24 Comments

In response to The Daily Post prompt Retrospectively funny: tell us about a situation that was not funny at all while it was happening, but that you now laugh about whenever you remember it.

I think I must have been watching too many thrillers and reading far too many detective stories when this incident happened. It was early evening, close to Christmas time in Houston, but because it was Winter season, darkness came a bit too early.

I had family visiting the following day and I decided to go out to buy some extra stuff that evening on a whim. I had finished shopping and I preferred to carry the nylons of items that I had purchased instead of a trolley since they were not too much.

I left for the car park, which was a bit too calm for my liking and just a few cars away from mine, as I was engrossed on the phone with my mum, these two bulky gentlemen – seemed to appear out of the blues in my imagination, just a few feet away, as if they were heading towards me.

As soon as one of them reached into his thick leather jacket for something, willy, nilly, in a twinkle of an eye, I flung my purchase at them and took off, huffing and puffing as I raced back towards the entrance. I think I must have frightened not just myself, but the men too.

When I heard the heavy sound of a car engine starting and not the sound of feet pounding after me, I paused and dared to look back only to see that the Dodge RAM truck which was parked next to my vehicle was reversing and pulling away. It was the bulky gentlemen.

I still didn’t trust my eyes and I stood afar, watching until they had driven off. Striding back hastily to my car – I found my goods neatly put back in the bags and kept on one side, only my tray of eggs had suffered from the aftermath of flinging them like weapon at the unsuspecting two, every other thing was intact.

I jumped into the car and rushed home – meanwhile, in my excitement, I had forgotten that I had my mum hanging on the line all through the episode. I equally gave the poor woman a fright, because she heard my frantic chant of ”Jesus” . Now and again, when I visualize the priceless look the on the faces of the two guys and imagine their thoughts – that I am one crazy black woman – I can’t help the peals of laughter, but then again it is better to be cautious than sorry.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Musings · Writing

Over the Years…

September 8, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha28 Comments

My alarm tinkles and I know it’s 4:30 a.m. For one moment I ask myself what on Earth inspired me to set the alarm at such a time. I shuffle to the table to shut it down – I keep it away from the bedside, because I have known myself to stuff it under the bed in blissful moments in snooze land and then spend the next two days trying to find it – and I can’t resist taking a peek at my phone to check for Writing 101 prompt.

The prompt helps to clear the cobwebs from my eyes and makes me pause to think. I think of the things that I like and that is pretty easy to think of – it stretches from here to Armageddon; I think of the things that I wish for, which ties a bit with the things that I like, but the difference is that my wishes change now and again.

I then think of the things that I have learnt over my conscious years on Earth and that really got me thinking:

Over the years, I have learnt that:

No matter how many years that pass by, that the loss of a loved one still leaves sharp, poignant sentiments in my heart.
That life really goes on, even if you wanted it to stop.
To cherish the little moments of life because, it really floats by so quickly.
To dwell on my possibilities because it stretches the scope of my horizon and makes my life more interesting.
To love and accept myself wholeheartedly. I have learnt to live as myself and not as a mimic of someone else.
That dreams and ambitions do change and it’s okay. Not to beat myself to death over the head about it, but to dream anew and look for means to arrive at my goal.
To grow a sense of humor. It is common knowledge that life is often too short; thus, I don’t want to waste it stewing and sweating the small stuff.
I should take better care of myself, health wise, emotionally, mentally and spiritually.
To have Faith, because that is really all that I have.
To keep an open mind. To welcome new perspectives and to never stop learning. The day we stop to learn, is the day that we begin to die within ourselves.
To have a sense of value for ethics and good morals without which I am less the person that I am.
To give. I have learnt that when you open your heart and hands to give, they are also open to receive.
To fall in love with as many things as possible and to give myself the permission to find out the things that I am really passionate about.
There is always room to improve on something.
Not to crowd myself with pessimistic ‘wet blankets’ in human form.
That my life is an evolution.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

In response to Writing 101 prompt:

Today, write your own list on one of these topics:

Things I Like
Things I’ve Learned
Things I Wish

Creative Writing · Weave that Dream

Rivals…

September 4, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha22 Comments

In response to the cue art Faces from Creativity Carnival :

It rankles! Yes it does. Maria sits mute at the dinner table, her roiling thoughts consumed with jealousy and anger. Mama, cracks a joke that maybe a widower with a dozen children would fall hopelessly in love with her homeliness but it is a struggle to plaster a smile on her face. She knows the icy look in her eyes must be as cold as the Arctic but no one notices.

She can’t seem to help her unbidden thoughts and distorted feelings for Ella. Ella, her identical twin but there are no two people who are more different. Maria’s distorted feelings of animosity, envy and sadness have accrued over the years.

Even her name is prettier for pity’s sake – Maria thinks. They saddle me with a staid, homely, sensible name “Maria” and “Ella” gets to be called a fairytaley, princessy, frilly name.

Ella the glitzy, charming one. The one that drew the boys like mindless bees to her honeysuckle petals. The one who got all the accolades, yet didn’t exert herself much to earn them.

Mama keeps saying that Ella will go places; our ballerina tutus are the same, yet mine always managed to look crumpled and my flats had a hole in the toe. I made that hole! In rebellion too, she recalls in remembered pleasure. She hated the ballet lessons and all that pirouetting made her dizzy. “No spotlights for you, my young lady” auntie Anna would say. That sounded like doom to the young lady’s ears.

She loves to draw and paint, but no one seems to notice. They noticed easily how unruly her hair is, how her skirts are always overrun with watercolor and how her finger nails are eaten to jagged bits, from nervous energy.

Ella is always immaculate. No hair is ever out of place. Her bubbly energy takes up the entire air meant for both of them and sometimes Maria feels like the evil step-sister waiting for the Sword of Damocles to fall and swish Ella’s head off her shoulders.

Maria prays. Every moment, she tries. Trying to staunch the flow of ill-feeling by saturating them in heartfelt prayers, but those moments of peaceful thoughts did not last.

Today she feels so petty and angry as she watches Ella weave her sticky charm, yet again on a beau. Our budding romance is dead on arrival, Jeremy has just bitten the dust, she thinks.

Debating all the painful, slow ways to eliminate her sibling rival and shaking with an itchy, ugly desire to slap Ella’s face, Maria slowly rises from the dinner table and leaves for her room. No one notices.