I apologize... Year 3 might never be completed. I believe you should never say never but for now, it's being filed under 'Incomplete.' Please accept my apology.

Yeah... throw rocks at me.

            Week Twenty-Four. Nothing special is happening in my life so it’s going to be a short one.

            Please, please, please can you tell me why Soji called me AGAIN?!?!? And once again he asked me if I had any hook-ups . Hmm… is there a rumor floating around that I am so kind of a madam?

            So that fucking bitch from work called again and this time she left a message on my HOME PHONE! Why did she have to call when I wasn’t around? 'Cos if she hadn’t, I would simply ignored it then deleted the message ASAP. But no, bitch had to use that number. I don’t even know how she got it… I am thinking it must have been the emergency number I’d given when I worked there.

            “FEMI!!!!!!!!!” That was the fucking war cry I heard on Wednesday evening as I was lying on my bed and reading the latest US Weekly. Sure, the stories never change from week to week; the Angelina-Brad-Jen love triangle, the Lindsay-Ashley or Linsday-Hilary hatefest, Paris squared and the rest of the crap I shouldn’t care about but can’t help reading.

            So anyhoo, I was reading some story about Nicole Richie’s weightloss when that cry brought me back to reality. Like I was under hypnosis or something, I ran to my father’s room like a little kid who was scared of getting his ass whooped… Diary, you know what I mean. You really don’t want to answer the call but you know that not answering soon enough will just make your parent madder… and no one likes an angry Dad.

            “Did you get this message?” he asked. He was sitting on his bed and holding the receiver up to me.

            “Which message?”

            He handed it to me and let me replay the message.

            After I did, I looked down at him and said, “No, I didn’t know she called.”

            He looked confused. “What is it you were doing that you didn’t hear the phone ring?”

            I looked at the caller-id. It said 3:15, the time at which I was hanging out with Amber and teaching her how to make lasagna. “I must have been in the bathroom.”

            He grunted. “But she said she’d left several messages on your cell phone. Did you get them?”

            Shit. What was I to say? Saying yes would put me in a shitload of trouble and saying no… “S…”

            He shook his head. “When will you ever grow up, Femi?” He shook his head in disappointment. “Just make sure you call her tomorrow morning, okay?”

            And that’s how I found myself calling the bitch on Thursday and then having a phone interview on Friday. Because it’s pretty much within the department, a phone interview is all that’s needed and if they like me, my black ass would be going back to my old life. I mean, different office, same shit. Diary, please cross your fingers that they don’t like me!!

            My old ass aunt is getting married for a second time. How fucking depressing is this? As old as she is, she can find a man and I’m still here popping my adult pimples. Crap. 

            So she had an engagement party, right? It was all meant to be so simple- I was just supposed to serve the food her old ass friends prepared, right? So how come it’s past noon and no one is here (party starts at 5)? They all keep saying that they are “coming” but since I don’t believe them I’ve begged Amber and Trace to come over and help us (Aunt, Mom and me) out.  Geez!

            Till next week.

                        Sunday, 12.05pm, June 5, 2005

Week Twenty Three. Hmm… something is happening. My old boss called me to tell me that there’s a new position opening at another branch and if I’m interested, she’ll put in a word for me. Wow. She left the message on Thursday and I haven’t called her back.

Gosh. The longer I’m without a job the better I feel about losing it. And now she wants me to go back? And get sucked into the vacuum and have my life never amount to anything? Am I really ready for that? Is that really what I want for myself? Sure, I could use some money but I quite enjoyed getting severance pay, plus, since my apartment is being sublet, I am actually saving a lot more money this way… not that it’s permanent or anything but am I really ready to get back to all that bullshit?

Sundays at Janelle’s has been pretty nice. Just being with the gang, reminiscing and… I guess I never realized how much I missed it. Word is that Trace would be joining us tonight… funny how she shows up after the season’s ended. Maybe it was the nature of the show that was so reprehensible to her? Who knows what goes on in Prayer Meeting Chick’s head?

So a funny thing happened on the way to Hollywood Video… it was Thursday night and I needed to get first dibs on the movies before the Friday crowd came and raided the store. I’d only gotten out of my car when I saw The Bastard, his baby and baby mama walking from the other side of the strip mall.

Numerous indescribable emotions shot through me but I really don’t think jealousy was among them. I contemplated calling out to them and saying hi but I decided against it. She was probably feeling a little motherly and came to town for the weekend so I really did not want to interrupt them. Plus, other than “hello” or “hi” I didn’t have much to say. Thus I decided to save whichever awkward conversation we had in our future for a later date.  And what does all that mean, Diary? Am I getting more mature? Or am I just sick of seeing my exes with their baby mamas? I’m still yet to decide.

Oh, that loser Soji actually called me to ask if I’d found someone for him yet. I don’t get it, is there “Matchmaker” stamped on my forehead? I wanted to scream into the phone and tell him to fuck himself but I held back. See, Diary? I am getting more mature. You think my Dad would be proud of me now?

 So Diary, want to know what I did this weekend? You can’t guess? Well… I called Keith up.

“Hey… ”

“Hello?” Pause

 “Hi, Keith.”

“Who is this?”

“Something’s wrong with your caller-ID?” Like, really.

Pause. “Oh, I guess that must be your Dad’s name.”

“I guess it must – it’s the same last name as mine.” I exhaled. “Long time, Keith.”

“Long time? I guess you are right – it’s been a while. How have you been?”

“Fine. Just relaxing with the parentals.”

I could practically hear him smile. “I see. And picking up some new words, I see.”

“Yeah, watching ‘That’s so Raven’ would do that do you.”

He chuckled. “So how are you? How’s the job search going?”

“It’s not. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Yeah? I could keep my eyes open for something, if you like”

I laughed. “Yeah, imagine me working at your office. I am sure you’d just looooooove that.”

He laughed too. “I didn’t say I would contact my HR department.”

“Bastard. So you don’t think I’m good enough for your company?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?”

“Yeah, whatever.”  And he sure avoided my question. Am I not good enough? And am I having a mid-twenties crisis?

“So, what’s up?”

As you can tell Diary, we had a nice conversation. It was definitely different, but nice. I couldn’t put my finger on it… maybe it was more relaxed? Had less pressure? Or maybe time had healed any wounds? I couldn’t quite say. Didn’t know what to make of it. Were we back as friends? Could we possibly get back together? What was going on between us? Was there even an ‘us’? So as we spoke and laughed, I decided that I’d just keep it at this friendly level till I got back to Jersey – whenever that was. He was a great guy and maybe I was a dumb bitch for fucking it up… maybe I should have given in a little. Maybe I should have respected him more. Maybe I should have been a lot nicer and showed him how I felt. Maybe I should have decided how I felt and just stuck with it.  I had a whole bunch of maybes and decided I’d explore them as soon as I returned. Till then, he was free to fuck Camel or whichever ugly bitch he was occupying his time with. And no, I wasn’t going to even think about it.  

Femi, 4:15pm, Sunday May 29, 2005.

      Week Twenty Two. Well I can’t forget this evening nor your face as you are leaving you always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows, yes it shoooows. No I can’t forget tomorrow when I think of all my sorrow, when I had you there but then I let you go. Now it’s only fair that I should let you know…I think. Damn, I love me some Mariah Carey… especially when she’s on her meds.

            Can’t give anymore, I can’t live, if living is without you… okay, let me stop. Sigh. Music is the freaking window to my soul. Oh God. I think I need to relax. There’s never anything like a good love song to pierce your heart when you’re all lonely and pathetic. Damn. I desperately need a shag.

            So I have no life, right? Sitting at home, stuffing my face and all. So I’m being all myself, watching Nicole manipulate Brady and wondering when we will finally see our Brady/Chloe reunion (they are so meant to be!!!), simultaneously enjoying and hating myself for getting suckered back into Days of Our Lives when the house phone rang. I looked at the Caller-ID and it said something like “$@%#&$^*# Company” which is usually a sign for some freaking telemarketing firm so I didn’t answer it.

            When the show ended, I took my little boom box into the bathroom and had myself a 45 minute soak in the tub. I was feeling all relaxed and happy when the darn phone rang. Looked at the C-ID and it was my freaking father.

            “Hey Daddy, what’s going on?”

            “Why is it so noisy over there?”

            “Oh…” I lowered the volume. “I was just listening to music. Do you need anything?” And why are you bugging me during my hours of Zen?

            “You are listening to music? That’s why you didn’t answer the phone earlier?”

            “Oh, you called? Sorry, I was in the shower.”

            “Oluwafemi, at 3 o’clock? This is the kind of nonsense you were doing in Jersey that got you fired.”

            “I wasn’t fired, Daddy, I was let go. And that’s because my boss left.”

            “But if you were good, he would have taken you with him, wouldn’t he? You need to stop making excuses and grow up, okay? If you had worked hard at your job would you be at home taking baths at 3 in the afternoon? This laziness won’t get you anywhere, Femi! This is not how I raised you!”

            God! What did I do to deserve this, shit? What difference did the time I showered make? I was freaking at home alone! I don’t know, maybe it was the time of the month or something but I really didn’t need tongue-lashing in the fucking middle of the day. I bloody knew that I didn’t have a life or job but what was with all that shit? It just showed that he was ashamed of me. Fucking HONJ destroys my life and my father just knows that it’s my fault. And there was obviously nothing I could do to change his mind. Wasn’t a father’s job to just love his kid? What was with all the judging? Like his life is perfect.

            I don’t know why it got to me but I could feel myself choking up. Luckily my eyes didn’t get too misty otherwise I would have had to stab myself. One of my New Year’s resolutions was to become a stronger person and I wasn’t going to let my father’s –anybody’s- opinion of me get me down.

            “Daddy, was there something you wanted?” My voice shook but I ignored it.

            “Eh hen. Yes. A job opened at my friend’s company and I suggested you to him.”

Fuck. And I was only just getting used to my forced holiday. “Is it in Jersey?”

“Of course not. Why would it be there? In fact, it’s better that you are close to home so that we can keep an eye on you.”

What the fuck, how old was I? Five?

Call him right now, okay?” he continued, “Take down his number.”

            And that’s how on Wednesday, I found myself dressing up for an interview that turned out to be a $15/hr Loan Officer’s secretary position. Yeah, thanks Dad. Why bother sending me to college? Damn, community college would have been too much for me. You should have just encouraged me to get a GED because obviously you don’t think I have any ambitions… but then again, if I’d simply done like they asked and studied engineering/computers/medicine/pharmacy/law or any other bullshit “big time” major maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with all this shit. But yeah, fuck him.

            I still believe, someday you and me will find ourselves… yeah, Mariah rocks!

            Femi, Sunday 1:00pm, May 22, 2005

Week Twenty One. So... oh goodness, I feel really uneasy, like something bad is about to happen…

            Anyhoo, life must go on. So Diary, remember how I told you that I was having lunch with that ugly sonofabitch Soji? Well, GOD GIVE ME STRENGTH     !!!!!!! That… that… THAT… GRRRRRR… Let me just tell you how it went down.

            Now, instead of staying home and watching Passions like every other unemployed sucker, I got up, got dressed and walked out of the house to go and waste my $6.25 on a crappy sandwich.

            So there I was at the restaurant, wearing “natural” make up so that I could look both beautiful and casual, smiling at him and laughing at his silly jokes and looking as interested and interesting I could possibly be so that the rejection would be that much more delicious when he said, “So, how are your friends?”

            Mmkay? “Fine.”

            He smiled to himself. “I thought so. So where are they?” he asked, looking around.

            I chuckled. “Sorry?”

            “Your fine friends. Or you don’t really have any friends?”

            I laughed out loud with controlled lips, making sure that my gums didn’t show too much. “Of course I have friends.” Fool, I just said they were fine. “You want to meet them?” Why? Ehm, dude, we just met.

            “Yeah,” he said, nudging me, “you can hook me up, abi?”

            “Oh…. I guess I could.” What the fuck?

            “They are not Nigerians, abi?”

            Huh? “What does that have to do with anything?”

            He shrugged. “Nothing, but since I am in America, I can sample all sorts, shey?” he replied, smiling like a fool.

            I rolled my eyes. “So what if my Nigerian friend is fine, you wouldn’t be interested?”

            Instead of responding, he gave me an indescribable look and turned away.

            “Dude, if you have something to say, just say it.” Gosh, why do men like to piss me off?

            He shrugged. “Let’s just say that Nigerian girls are not my style.”

            The fuck? “What’s that supposed to mean?”

            “Hey, don’t get mad, it’s all about personal preference, right? So are you going to introduce me to your friends or not?”

            Why don’t I fucking introduce your nuts to my drink? Fucking asshole. Bloody bastard comes to America and suddenly feels like he’s got ‘preferences,’ freaking “One dollar a day”-looking bastard.

            So Diary, seeing that I just discovered that I couldn’t even get a fool interested in me, I decided to make other things right in my life. I knew Amber normally got back from her part-time job around 2 so I went to her place after lunch.

            When I buzzed her intercom and identified myself, I could practically hear the freaking sigh.

            “So what’s going on?” she asked as she opened her door.

            “Nothing, I just came to hang out.” She was still standing at her door. “Can I come in?”

            “You can do anything you want.”

            ?!?!?!?!?

            She must have correctly read the frustration on my face because she stepped aside to let me in.

            “How was work?” I asked as I sat on her couch.

            “Fine, but that couldn’t be the reason you came over.”

            Bitch. “Oh, I just had lunch with Soji so I decided to come here on my way home.”

            “I see.”

            She sees? No questions about the date? No interest in my life? Just complete nonchalance? It was so obvious that she was still mad so I decided to do the right thing.

            “Amber…”

            “Yeah?”

            I exhaled. “You know that I don’t mean those things… it’s not like I am trying to hurt anyone.”

            “Whatever. It’s not like you don’t know that they can be hurtful. You don’t have to make a comment every time. Sometimes, it’s okay to keep it to yourself and say nothing. Nobody needs to be reminded of shit all the time.”

            “Okay, fine. But I wasn’t even talking about you.”

            “So what? Trace is our friend! You should respect her in her absence. Do you say things like that about me when I’m not there?”

            Duh! “Amber, relax… it’s really not that deep – I don’t say things to be spiteful.”

            “Yeah, tell me another lie.”

            I smiled to myself – bitch wasn’t going to let me off easy. I stood up and walked over to her. “I’m so sorry I hurt your feelings and will try not to say shit like that in the future.” I stretched my hand out. “Friends?”

            She chuckled. “Bitch, you know that you are still going to keep saying shit.” She hit my hand away, “but you know we are friends for life.” She turned around and walked to the kitchen.

            I followed her. “For sure. But you know I’m not actually living with my parents.”

            She turned to me. “What?”

            “Yesterday, you said that I live with my parents but that’s not true. I’m only staying with my parents while I’m over here - I do have an apartment in Jersey, you know?”

            She laughed loudly. “See? Shit like that stays with you. Nobody likes to be reminded of crap in their life.”

            “But bitch, how are you going to be reminding me of things that don’t exist? I DON’T LIVE WITH MY PARENTS!!!!”

            “Yeah? So where are you sleeping tonight?”

            I rolled my eyes.

            She laughed even harder. “So,” she started, “about Soji…”

            I spent the rest of the afternoon there. I even planned to stay longer till she told me that Juan wouldn’t appreciate my presence when he returned – apparently he liked to come home to a quiet home. Goodness, some guys!

            The rest of my week was pretty uneventful so let’s just hope something interesting happens at Janelle’s today… or not. You know what, Diary? I think I’ve had my fill of all the drama.

                        Femi, 2:33pm, Sunday May 22, 2005