The Ferret

I tried knitting with plastic bags today. Just to see how it’ll feel like. The first bit I did was with some Sainsbury’s carrier bags using a size three and three quarters needle.

I must have cut the bags too thin because they kept snapping and I had to keep tying the ends… let’s just say it wasn’t fun. So I rounded it up and went to get bigger needles.

Using size five needles, I was cut the bags a little thicker so they didn’t snap as easily. I’m using white and blue plastics for what is (hopefully) going to be the stap for the first bag I knit.

 Yeah, it’s going to be a big bag!

I still have a looooong way to go… meantime, I’m off to bed. I can’t feel my legs; to be honest, I’m wondering how I’ll make it the room.

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Well, these few days are going to be mad. So, in case I’m not able to blog, I’ll be back in two – three weeks, God willing.

I was watching the news about Bush’s visit to 10 Downing streeet earlier. What caught my eye was Brown’s copy-catting. The clip showed the Bushs stepping off their helicopter and the Browns welcoming them. Bush shook hands with Brown and went to kiss Mrs. Brown on the cheek. At the same time Gordon was busy shaking Mrs. Bush’s hand. Then when he turned around and saw Bush kissing his wife on the cheek, in an obvious after thought, he too leans over and kisses Mrs. Bush on the cheeks. As Bush was rounding up his posse for a picture, he closer and whisperd something into Mrs. Brown’s ear. At that moment, Brown too, following in the footstep of his mentor, leans over and whispers something into Mrs.

If the purpose of Bush’s visit was to cajole Brown into not pulling out of Iraq (eye-rack) yet, I believe his mission has been accomplished. In less than twenty seconds, Brown has successfully displayed the symptoms of CLDS – Classic Lap Dog Syndrome. Even if he’s not CLDS challenged, his lack of originality leaves very little to be desired. What a farce! Politics is a farce!

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We visited the Bay yesterday. It was fun; took loads of pictures – well over a hundred. M was surprised when we got home and downloaded the pics. I told him he shouldn’t be ‘cuz I love taking pictures, it used to be my hubby before he came along, hehe… but seriously, I was a bit of a prick to him at the bay. And that’s not because I was farting long, loud farts; I was disgruntled by his lack of picture-taking-acumen. M has no photographic skills and it’s frustrating for me because whenever I take pic’s of him, he’ll be happy to put them on facebook, but I’m hardly enthusiastic about sharing the pictures he takes of me. *sigh* I always look frumpy!

He’s a good sport though, that much I must admit. He was willing to take correction and re-take the pics to my satisfaction. And although you can never please a meastro; I was touched by his effort.

When it started to pour we hurled ourselves into a restaurant. The initial plan was to have coffee, but everywere was full on account of people escaping the rain so we ended up at Henry’s fish and chips. The food was good, but when we got back home I was shocked when he started asking me what was there to eat. I noticed he barely touched his shrimps at the restaurant. He kept shoving them into my own plate… and while I LOVE shrimps, I felt a bit guilty accepting the offering. He later confessed. One, he wasn’t hungry and two, fish and chips isn’t his thing. He’s more of a ribs and steak guy. The only reason he’d suggested we have fish and chips was because he thought I really wanted it. He’s a gem! So I made a feast for him and wasn’t one bit surprised when he polished off the lot, lol… M loves his food!

I’ll put up some of the pictures of the sights when I am able.

It’s past two in the morning and I’ve just seen a young girl tottering down the street in a drunken stupor. Her shoes were in her hands and she could barely put one foot in front of the other without looking as though she would tumble to the side. If that wasn’t bad enough, there was a guy some paces ahead, talking to her and gesticulating with his hands. They were across the street, too far away to hear what he was saying to her.  She was following him but he kept walking as if he didn’t care, occasionaly looking back to say something to her. I’m not sure if he was telling her not to follow him or ordering her to keep up.

I’m thinking why a sane person would put themselves in such a precarious situation. Who knows who he is, what if he’s a rapist, or a murderer, she would have played right into his hands. Then she’ll wake up in the morning regretting whatever happened and not remembering the details. I’ve heard young girls who end up pregnant not remembering the father. No thanks to their drinking and clup hopping. What’s so great about alcohol that people are so mad about? I’ve tasted beer once (and for the last time too), there was nothing spectacular about it – it tasted horrible, in fact - yet people guzzle it down ritualistically. It’s almost as if they couldn’t live without it.

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It’s Sunday. By this time next week I’ll be back home. M and I are travelling on Friday. He’ll be back early to resume work, while I’ll hang around for some weeks. We both have a lot of things to sort out. Hopefully by the time I get I will be able to start my masters.

That being the case, I’m not sure I’ll have as much time to blog during the week ‘cuz I’ll be busy with preparations for the journey; buying stuff for folks back home and all that. I’ll need to manually pen down my thoughts in case I’m unable to blog them. Part of my mini goals is to write my daily thoughts, in the hopes of improving my writing. Therefore, my goal for tomorrow is to buy a journal. It’s strange, I’ve become so used to typing that writing feels like something to be avoided, lol…

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So, I’ve been researching for some businesses to implement. Something tangible I can do on the side that will be equally profitable. I’ve always had fish farming in mind. I’m a firm believer in ‘if you do food, you’ll never go wrong’. Poeple will always need to eat so you won’t be short for customers. The thing with fish is it’s time consuming, capital intensive and you’ll need a large area for it; if you want to go commercial.

Right now I need something less complicated I can launch from my backyard. To do this I’ll need to acquire a skill, first and foremost. I already know how to knit, but unless I’m planning to knit baby socks, I can’t get too far with that… So I want to focus on sewing. A lot of people in 9geria still sew their clothes, unlike the UK where you buy ready made in stores and boutiques. One can go either ways with it… the other reason I want to learn is because my initial business plan was to recycle pure water plastic bags into building materials. They are a major pollutant in cities, I thought of how they can be reused and since they get dirty, I thought well, if they can be mixed in dirt then one wouldn’t have to bother about cleaning them first (which costs more).

Then, while searching for ideas, I came across a site that featured bags produced from recycled plastic in Ghana. They are dogged by the same menace of stray bags, rather than bemoan the situation, one enterpreneur took to task and came up with the idea of stiching them together into bags. It’s a wonderful idea! Best of all, nobody is doing it in 9geria. I”ve weight the pros and cons and I’ve decided to pioneer it in 9geria. And so I don’t feel I’m stealing someone else’s idea, I did more research and found out the concept itself is not novel. A lot of people are doing it all over the world especially in the Philipines.

Like I said, first things first: acquire a skill – learn how to sew. That’s the goal for my two week stay.

On the other hand…

Instead of just copying, I thought of coming up with something even more unique: knitted carryall bags made from recycled pure water plastic bags.

I think kniitted bags will be more durable than just plainly sewn together ones… In addition knitted bags will be more palatable for public consumption, afterall nobody wants to be seen carrying something that has been trawling mud on the street. The only downside I can think about for now is at the end of the day it’s really no different from knitting baby socks in terms of the rate finished goods will be ready for sale.

But I love the idea!

Achieving goals was never my forte. Previously when new year rolls around, I’d scribble away like a hen pecking for food. I’d happily set goals for myself, etc, never had a problem there. My main issue was following up; I was so terrible at that. So what happens eventually is I’ll abandon them alltogether out of frustration.

I’ve never seen anything through in my life. I’m starting to realize the deep seated reasons for my bloghoppering. Why I always start one blog and then quit it and move on to another blog. Why I start stories I never finish. Why I’m always dreaming about what I want to do without actually doing it, or abandoning it half way. How many knitting projects have I started enthusiastically, only to abandon it halfway and start up on a new one. How desperate I was to get pregnant, only to get bored half way through the week of my ovulation, because I felt ‘out of it’. I’m mistress of everything, master of none.

Something in me questions how badly I want it. Something tells me I haven’t grasped the concept of hardwork. Something tells me I’m confused and in-experienced. Something tells life is living me, instead of the other way round. I just can’t deliver! Something, somewhere… while I’m in the middle of it just creeps up on me and numbs me towards the eventual goal. It’s like I’ve already achieved and experience the post goal joy that there’s nothing left. So I just give up, get bored, and look for something else to do.

What a revelation! It’s always been there, I knew something wasn’t right, but somehow I was not able to put a finger on it. I’ve always put it down to boredom, though me and myself knew there was more to it.

I have no problem drawing out an itenerary, my problem is getting to the destination. In fact, I can draw a very elaborate plan on how to go about doing something, down to the last minute detail. Come time to execute it and my enthusiasm just fizzles out.

Hmm… in retrospect, I would have never completed university if my parents hadn’t lauded of my head the ridiculous amount of fees they were paying just because I was a foreign student. It’s depressing to know you went through with your degree out of guilt – because you feared hurting your parents if you failed. What a sad life!

It’s kind of depressing to know changing blogs wasn’t a way of fighting boredom; it was me running away from myself. Running away from the lacklustreness that had began gnawing away at my spirit. That was why something in me wanted to get away. See, if you’re not comfortable inside, you can’t be comfortable with others. Explains why I always felt scrutinized.

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Well, I have to change, haven’t I? I’m proud of the fact that I’ve stuck to my Ten A Day. My recitation is becoming more fluent; with fewer mistakes (except earlier when M came into the room while I was reciting, I was a bit nervous and stopped, but he told me to continue. It was a bit hard blocking him out because I’m not used to reciting in the presense of others). I look forward to reading the Qur’an and extrapolating on the meaning – I’ll do my own commentary before I read those of the experts. Little consistencies like this make me happy, ‘cuz I feel I’m accomplishing something. I can even feel the accomplishment because those commentaries force me to think, no longer do I feel my mind atrophying.

I’ll set smaller goals. Achieving smaller goals makes bigger ones easier.

I’ll just have to keep reminding myself why something is worth pursuing, regardless of how I feel half way through, I’ll have to remind myself again and again and again and again why it’s WORTH PURSUING!!!

I’ll have to awaken my optimism.

I’ll have to realize this is my life we’re talking about.

I’ll have to make sure I feel every moment awake is well spent; chanelled towards something productive.

I’ll have to tone down on my self-consciousness, it’s pushing people away.

I want to be happier. I want to be proud of every bit of who I am.