“Je me suis dit que le bonheur on ne le sait qu’après; on ne sait jamais qu’on est en train de le vivre, contrairement à la douleur” * I closed the book and let myself be distracted by the scene outside; the sun in all its splendor was awakening the good moods of spring. I like to think of life as nothing but a film, and in mine there are several scenes where I am standing here behind this window, staring, holding a cup of tea or a book with Que sera sera or Can’t take my eyes off you playing in the background.
“When was the last time I was actually happy?” I ask myself still staring at the sunset. The first book I read from Grégoire Delacourt was La liste de mes envies (The list of my desires); I loved that book. Jocelyne, the main character did not ask much from life to be happy. I loved her attitude and perspective on money and success. “Happiness is satisfaction” is a philosophy I’d love to live by, but honestly when did I ever settle for anything unless compelled to? How often do I secretly get annoyed when someone decides to make do with just the minimum? How often do I overstep and (excessively) boss people (a.k.a siblings and closest friends) into aspiring for more? My track record is evidence enough. Side jobs to supplement my monthly student allowances, once asked for a post with a heavy workload and crazy work hours just to feel like actually working. Moved a thousands time until I found a place that fulfilled conditions A, B, C…on my list. Kigali, Izmir, Stockholm, what’s next? Really, when have I ever settled for anything? I am almost at the apogee of achievements as I pictured it years ago. Status…not happy! Grateful? Definitely! Career? Uncertain. Locational stability? Also uncertain. Family struggle? Yes. Love life? Deceased. Finances? Let’s not even go there. Friendships? Good. Health? A solid 10/10. Without diving into long boring details, the overall statistics clearly show that I have legitimate reasons to not feel happy right now. But at least I am healthy and have caring people in my life, also legitimate raison to play on repeat and dance in front of the mirror to La vida es un carnival tonight as I pack my bags for Warsaw. In this moment, the life is a highway applies and I am just a car with a full tank but broken windshield wipers on a rainy day. Gotta find a way to keep moving, can’t stop won’t stop.
As a professional nap taker and not- morning person I decided to measure happiness in answers to “Why should I be excited to wake up today?” Last year writing and presenting my thesis weighed like 98% on the list of things I needed to finally be happy (Nearly 6 months later I am still talking about it, I hope by now you’ve realized that I am a drama queen, I am sorry!). Oh how I pictured myself after the thesis… smiling and eating fruits with lions in colorful gardens like in some religious group’s books (Shuuu…no finger pointing). Yes I was happy, all smiles and stuff until I remembered that the adult needed a stable full time job… which was like 5 minutes later (Drama. Queen.).
Short warm moments like evenings with friends drinking Doppio Passo (Psstt…Treat yourself to a bottle of this babe), eating Umuceli n’isombe and dancing to Coller la petite. Or being taken to a classy shoe store in Paris to choose the fanciest and most expensive pair I ever owned… Spoiled kid! Or occasional hilarious phone conversations with my (favorite) cousin (s) or chats with Soso. Or that pride and tenderness felt watching siblings grow into ambitious, strong, sensitive and fun human beings. Or dancing in front of the mirror for two straight hours. What about them? You can’t tell me those ain’t bits of happiness man.
I need to quit defining happiness as a specific point placed somewhere in the future ‘cause I risk missing out and under appreciate such little things that make life a little less stressful. Top of my new list of desires… Having at least one thing to look forward to when I wake up in the morning… or whenever I wake up. La vida es un carnival INDEED!!!
*From On ne voyait que le bonheur by Grégoire Delacourt
Celia Cruz– La vida es un carnaval
This morning Facebook reminded me that it’s been a year since I started this blog. I am not gonna lie, I felt a little proud of myself. It is crazy how time flies and how much changes within a year.
I wrote what became my first post The sky, the night and the words in your eyes on February 11, 2016 and published it on March 1, 2016. When I wrote it on the evening of February 11 I did not have a blog yet. I had just come back from a vacation home and since I could not put myself to work on my thesis proposal I decided to do something more… exciting. I sat in front of my computer and randomly started typing; before I knew it I had 3 Word pages. When I read what I had written I was pretty surprised I could write that much as fiction (P.S: “That much” in terms of length as for the quality I’ll let the reader be the judge. See I am trying to brag but with moderation!). As a teenager I had a (tantrum) diary mostly about how much I hate life and everyone alive. Years later I tore it up and stopped writing. Whenever I felt the need to write again, I would just draft something on a piece of paper that I’d shred right after.
That evening I sent the pages I’d just written to a few friends and of course they all applauded (my cousin even said that I was officially the author of the family, lol…”Au royaume des aveugles…”). Also, back then I had just started using twitter and I had made a few connections. I tweeted asking if anyone would be keen on reading the piece and try to guess what the story was about. A number of people seemed pretty interested and I sent them the document by email. Their feedbacks were all positive; some also highlighted a few spelling mistakes that I had missed and others suggested me to open a blog. The idea of a blog had been on my mind for quite some time, but I was still very uncomfortable with putting my life and thoughts out there to an audience. But as I read that first paper the idea got more and more tempting. I finally decided that I’d open a blog but only post fiction. March 1st I signed up to WordPress and posted my first fiction-ish story. You know that feeling after fixing a leaking pipe or trying and nailing a new recipe? That’s how I felt afterwards. During that period I was in a not so good place emotionally, so the blog became the ultimate distraction. I’d spend hours going through WordPress (free) themes changing color patterns, text size over and over to make it look nicer. I also posted regularly; 4 posts in March only. But after the first post I started feeling less and less connected to the content, I was too obsessed with the idea of keeping the blog alive without making my personal experiences too obvious that whenever I’d read the posts I’d not recognize myself in them then I decided to post only when there’s a real triggering/inspiring event.
Code name: Side chick (Fiction) and What to be thankful for about 2016? are my favorite posts (If this isn’t the true definition of narcissism I don’t know what it is! Lol). The former because I stepped out of my politically- correct- usual self and lightly wrote a somehow explicit story with elements of personal experience that used to be delicate. The latter because it was the first time I opened up (to the big public) about a vulnerable phase while still going through it. I won’t lie, as I typed I was second-guessing myself “yeah you had a bad year, which by the way is nothing compared to what most people out there are going through , but how is that information useful to the whole wide world?” But I posted it anyways, and hours later I was glad I did. Not only did I receive so much love about it but also people reached out to tell me how much they highly related to my story. It’s crazy how in our individual solitude we unknowingly connect.
When I go through my old posts I can recall the exact state of mind I was in and funny enough it all seems so far away now! I really can’t believe I was able to put together some of my moments in words that make sense…well to me at least. Blogging also helped me improve my vocabulary and my (non- scientific) writing. Sometimes I felt very guilty spending valuable study time procrastinating on a mere blog but here we are today, thesis done, degree received and 17 blog posts in. Damn right I am proud!
“Il y a une autre présence humaine chez moi… une présence masculine. IL Y A UN MEC DANS MA CHAMBRE!”
La présence humaine masculine en question est assise au bureau occupée sur l’ordi pendant que moi, perdue dans mes pensées, suis assise sur le lit adossée à une grosse pile de coussins. Embriágame de Zion & Lennox dont j’ai été obsédée dernièrement joue de la petite enceinte Bluetooth. A deux reprises il m’a surpris en train de sourire, il a dû penser que le sourire lui était destiné mais en réalité c’était juste que moi et moi étaient en train de “gossiper” à propos de lui. A force de vivre toute seule j’ai développé des reflexes de me répondre à haute voix ou de sourire, voire même rire au souvenir de quelque chose de drôle (comme les répliques de David Lee dans The Good Wife). Il y a à peu près un an ou plus on parlait souvent. L’honnêteté m’oblige à confesser que pendant nos appels Skype tout ce que je désirais de cette vie était de pouvoir poser ma tête sur sa poitrine, me blottir dans ses bras, rester ainsi en attendant que le Bon Dieu appelle son humble servante. Malheureusement, à cause de la vie et des milliers de kilomètres les conversations sont devenues de moins en moins fréquentes jusqu’ à ce qu’il n’en reste plus que des petits “Ça va toi? Le boulot ? Les études? L’amour…. Bisous”.
Des fois je me dis que la vie est en train de conduire une expérience bizarre sur ma vie amoureuse parce qu’il y a vraiment pas d’autre explication. Donc 2016 débute avec une nouvelle histoire. Début très intensif!!! Rien qu’après quelques messages, mon bon sens savait déjà que ça présageait rien de bon et m’abandonna, me laissant me démerder toute seule. Je ne sais pas ce que j’avais pris qui faisait que je me sente invincible, aventurière, genre carpediem, parce que en vrai je suis tout sauf ça. J’admets au début c’était trop fun mais en même temps je savais que c’était une question de temps avant que la normale moi, je veux dire la moi pas trop cool, ni aventurière, l’ennuyeuse qui veut tout le temps être sûre d’où elle va avec qui, quoi et comment réapparaisse. Généralement c’est à partir de là que ça commence à dégringoler.
Je dois d’abord faire une petite confession; je suis hyper sélective dans le secteur relation- attachement. Et je dois aussi avouer que avec cette hyper sélectivité je n’ai toujours réussi qu’à tomber sur soit les mauvaises personnes ou les bonnes au mauvais moment/endroit. Bref pour te dire que quand je m’intéresse à une personne ça me prends du temps avant de pouvoir lâcher.
Il y a ma copine qui aime dire “Yo… disi turindagiye dushaje!” (Nous devenons plus bête avec l’âge!). Chaque fois qu’elle me sort cette phrase ça me fait tellement rire. C’est drôle et en même temps vrai, du moins dans mon cas. Durant toute la période de l’illusion (ou le petit chapitre d’amour si tu veux) je ne cessais de me répéter “Mais wesh tu me déçois, grandis un peu bon sang!!! Hmm…Urindagiye ushaje vraiment !” Pour tout te dire ma petite histoire était une cause perdue et crois- moi je le savais, mais ça m’a pas pour autant empêché d’être triste et même pleurer un peu à une ou deux occasions. Triste pas parce que j’avais perdu mon mec idéal ou l’homme de me rêves (bah je ne pense pas en tous cas, à moins que l’avenir ne me surprenne) mais plutôt parce qu’on m’avait donnée des ailes… uummhhh… CORRECTION… JE M’étais donnée des ailes et quand je commençais à peine à soulever mes pieds du sol elles ont été coupées. L’une des choses risquées de la vie d’adulte est de se permettre d’avoir des attentes parce que quand ça foire ça fait vraiment mal.
Donc, à la fin je ne me suis pas permise d’embrasser mes émotions, qui étaient plus de la frustration. Je me disais qu’il n’ y avait que moi à blâmer dans tout ça pour m’être trainée dans un délire pareil. Donc “ferme ta gueule madame et apprends à être beaucoup plus rationnelle la prochaine fois”. Rationnelle dans le sens qu’il y a des histoires qui valent la peine de nous toucher et d’autres pas. Dans ma tête… aussi longtemps que condition A, B, C n’ont pas étaient vérifiées ça qualifie pas d’histoire pleurable. On ne peut pas être plus faux que ça. La réalité est que il n’ y a pas de loi universelle sur quoi et comment pleurer. Une fois qu’on donne un peu de son temps à une personne, qu’on leur ouvre quelques petits coins personnels de nos quotidiens, qu’on laisse tomber nos si chers boucliers et se mette dans une position de vulnérabilité c’est fini, c’est inévitable et on a le droit d’en souffrir. Peu importe quand et comment on en est arrivé là.
Ce n’est qu’un peu tard que j’ai réalisé à quel point c’était injuste et faux de me juger aussi durement. Après tout je ne suis qu’un humain, et mon système opératoire est conçu pour chercher de l’attachement affectif et il lui est essentiel de savoir que je suis voulue, désirée, reconnue. Maintenant quand j’y pense je crois que j’ai encore à apprendre comment trouver un équilibre entre me traiter avec fermeté et être un peu douce avec moi-même, parce que a) C’est nécessaire pour mon équilibre émotionnel b) Si je ne suis pas un peu indulgente avec moi même je finirai par être ce genre de personne tout le temps prompt à critiquer les autres, le “I told you so” genre tu vois.
Personne ne devrait être précipité de ressentir ou pas ressentir des choses. Et il n’est pas sain non plus de faire semblant pour prouver combien on est fort, parce qu’en fin de compte la première personne à laquelle on a besoin de prouver quoique ce soit est soi-même. Et d’ailleurs moi je pense que vivre et vaincre ses émotions est beaucoup plus courageux que faire semblant. Je ne peux pas assez souligner à quel point cette année m’a appris combien il est crucial d’être totalement honnête avec soi-même pour mieux s’améliorer en une personne décente; ami (e) ou amant (e).
Aussi dur que cela puisse être, parfois il faut laisser les choses aller à leur propre rythme. Vivre patiemment l’épreuve en prenant un jour à la fois jusqu’à ce qu’on s’en sorte complètement.
Quand on est forcé d’ignorer ses émotions, au final une sorte de frustration s’accumule et s’affiche de façon indirecte, des fois au mauvais moment et/ou envers une personne qui n’a rien avoir avec ça et qui fort probablement ne le mérite pas. Personnellement, la vengeance ne m’attire pas du tout. Les rancunes sont des fardeaux. Ouais ce serait sympa de tourner la page de chaque histoire sur une note positive, malheureusement ce n’est toujours pas le cas. Un des moyens d’avancer pas nécessairement facile est de faire une introspection, voir si on a était réglo dans toute l’histoire, et si ç’a été le cas alors c’est tout ce qui compte. Les gens feront toujours ce qu’ils voudront et il n’y a pas grand chose qu’on puisse y faire. Donc mieux vaut avancer en paix avec soi même et attendre celui (celle) qui saura nous apprécier à notre juste valeur.
Mes petites défaites sont pour moi d’excellentes occasions de me rappeler qu’il est important d’être compréhensif, tolérant et un peu moins critiquant envers les autres. C’est toujours plus facile de se dire que tel aurait pu faire mieux ou que nous même dans la même situation on ferait des choix plus rationnels mais crois- moi tu serais surpris. C’est valable même au delà de nos relations amoureuses; même dans nos familles et nos boulots.
Il y a beau avoir des milliers de livres sur par exemple comment s’enrichir, X façons d’être un excellent parent, comment trouver le partenaire parfait, mais je te le dis, personne n’a encore trouvé la fameuse formule de comment réussir sans faute à la vie. Tout ce qu’on fait c’est de comprendre les choses au fur et à mesure qu’on avance, et pour la plupart par essais et erreurs.
Je ne vais pas te mentir, ma vie amoureuse est une grosse blague et apparemment c’est pas à mes 26 ans que ç’allait changer. Bien sûr dans mes petits moments de solitude il m’arrive de tirer des conclusions plutôt pessimistes. Mais tant qu’on respire il faut s’attendre à être surpris par l’avenir ; tu le sais aussi bien que moi la vie n’est pas très gouvernable. Oui elle a un sens d’humour très étrange mais elle a aussi un timing impeccable, si seulement la patience n’était pas aussi épuisante. Regarde- moi par exemple, après m’être réhabituée à ma petite routine de solitaire, je n’aurai jamais pu penser qu’une personne qui a une fois été le sujet de mes fantaisies prendrait du temps pour venir passer ses vacances avec moi. C’est vrai pendant son séjour on était bien, mais c’est fou ce qu’un an nous change ! Nos désirs, priorités, soucis n’étaient plus les mêmes, mais cela n’empêche que c’était une petite gâterie inattendue du destin.
Je fête mes 27 ans après demain, évidemment je me dis que je vais être beaucoup plus vigilante et peut être un peu moins confiante mais ce n’est pas impossible que la même histoire se répète, que je commette les mêmes erreurs. Ouais ce serait triste mais ce ne serait pas non plus la fin du monde. J’ai encore un tas de choses à découvrir sur moi même, les autres, l’amour et la vie, c’est un processus.
« On vit et on apprend »
In my early teenage years I started feeling very uncomfortable living at home. By the time I turned 18, during my gap year, I felt completely suffocated. Of course the teenage hormones were for something but there were other factors and all I wanted was to leave, go somewhere else and only come back for seasonal visits. Fortunately the following year (2009) I went to university and started living on campus. In the summer of 2011 I moved out of the students residence for practical reasons. I had an internship during the day and a part time job in a call center from 19:00- 01:00, my family lived a bit outside the city it was impossible for me to go home after work and the students residence was close during summer holidays. Initially, the plan was to find a house to rent, stay in it for a few months and when school opens go back to live on campus since it was cheaper and I was not earning much back then. December 2011 as I was about to start my last year of university I got a full time job in a bank and did not move back to the campus. After starting the job I was rarely at school so it’d have felt really weird waking up everyday in the campus and going to work instead of class. Also staying on campus among “real” students would have driven me crazy. I knew it was insane to accept a full time job while being a full time student, but I really needed the job. Thinking about it now, I seriously don’t know how I got through that year. Anyways, so I stayed in the “ghetto” (general slang used by many people I know in Rwanda to mean houses of singles who don’t live at their parents’). I did not want/need a roommate; as long as I’d find a little place of my own I was perfectly fine. But due to unpredicted circumstances, nearly 5 months later I ended up living in a family (I am related to), which did not work out very well and a year and a half later I packed my bags and went back to the “ghetto”. The second day at my first “ghetto” after leaving the family, the landlady calls me outside and told me that there were a few rules she had forgotten to mention: she did not want me to have visitors, no other cars except her visitors’ were allowed in, I would not be given the keys to the gate, I should call the houseboy to open whenever I come and go,………..etc… and concluded with “if you don’t agree with them, it’s ok you can look for a different place, I will gladly give you your money back”. Look, I was tired of moving, and it was the freaking 2nd day after settling, but there was no way in hell I was going to live again in a place where I felt suffocated, not if I am paying. God, I cannot even explain how hard it is to find a house in Kigali!!! But whatever it was going to take, I was not going to live like that again! I guess the universe felt sad for me and helped, ‘cause in less than a week I was moving into a new house.
Oh man the new place was exactly what I was looking for!!! Quiet, clean, with a private bathroom, kitchenette, living room and bedroom in my little house. Not far from the city, roughly 20-30 minutes by bus to my place of work. Two houses and only 3 residents inside the gate: my landlord, a guy in his early 30’s lecturer at a university, his young houseboy/ gate keeper who was such a wonderful, polite and funny young man and me. We got along so well, there was some sort of silent agreement between us, each one would mind their business and not try to force any friendships just because we lived in the same place, and that I loved!!!
When I was starting to make myself comfortable in the new place, results from my scholarship application came out and I had to leave for Turkey. Again, pack the bags. Fast-forward, a few months in Turkey I realized it was not a place for me. I mean I loved the food (I could die for a “mercimek çorba”) and the friends I had made, but for my academic and mostly personal development, nope, I just was not seeing myself there. I had to go somewhere else… again! I restarted, looked for a school and a fully funded scholarship. August 1, 2014 I landed at Arlanda/ Stockholm. Everything was beautiful about Stockholm. Honestly Stockholm is the most beautiful city I’ve seen so far. A few months into university I’d made the most amazing friends I could ask for, I wonder what I would have become without these people. As if my stay in Stockholm was not going well enough, months later I met a group of really great Rwandese guys. “Ouff… this is it! I might actually settle and fix myself here finally!”
Until then I had not realized how much the idea of having to find again a new place that I’d call a home secretly terrified me.
Then came 2016…
I don’t know how it happened or what triggered it, but I could easily feel the weird feeling of not belonging be it home or here slowly sneaking in. Probably because I was working on my final academic assignment, and after it I had to decide what my next move would be.
I started having random small anxieties. It kinda took me off guard because honestly I was doing so well, I was happy. With days the feeling became intense, I could not focus on the positives in my life, instead I would only be thinking about the language barriers and tight job market in Sweden, how my friends will go back to their home countries and leave me to making new friends, or even go as far as wondering why I stupidly pick the wrong people to fall in love with! And as I usually do when I feel overwhelmed, I seek comfort from my bedroom. I am a clinical case of indoor person. But this time, though I felt safe in my little place, I always felt down, found myself crying for no actual reason, spent 90% of the time in bed which resulted into messy sleeping and eating habits, serious insomnia, you name it! Most times as I could not fall asleep, I looked for alcohol to at least get tipsy and with a bit of luck find sleep. My day was basically, wake up around noon- eat breakfast (I was committed to it, as I had been told by a doctor to watch my weight carefully)- watch an episode of a TV show- back to bed till the evening – shower (not everyday)- eat something- bed and repeat. As hard as I tried I could not focus on my thesis at all. I would open the thesis folder on my computer, stare at it for several minutes, close it and jump back into my bed. And to that came the guilt; “stop being a cry baby, you are a fighter get your shit together, wake up and finish the goddamn thesis” the voice in my head constantly repeated. Hence every time I would be in bed after sitting in front of my computer doing nothing I would feel so useless, lazy, I would hate myself for not trying hard enough and ended up in tears! Talking about the thesis with my friends- classmates helped a little because we were all stressed out with the thesis, but there was that other feeling I could not know how to explain either to myself or to anybody else. So I’d simply not talk about it. Then one day I was skyping with Lily and she asked me to go stay with her for a while, she said it would do me some good. And I flew to Paris.
Travelling and meeting my oldest friends helped a lot and boosted my energy. I went to France twice and once to the Netherlands- Belgium this year. I love being at Lily’s in Paris, she and Aimable spoil me. It is a place of laughter, genuine friendship, good food and lazy evenings drinking in front of the TV. After my trip to Paris I came back refreshed and ready to work. But every now and then, the nasty feeling would come back to haunt me and send me to bed for a few days but I would push through. I remember one day while texting with Hanna, she told me that not focusing on how much work one has to do but rather on how relieved and free one would feel after its’ completion is motivating, and that became my new motto. Oh man Hanna has been my rock this year, she’s always been there, she just gets me and she cracks me up. I don’t even think she knows how much she helped me!!! I just wish she were not crazy (Kidding…she is not…well sometimes!). Fast forward, October 27th thesis presentation, FINALLY!!! I thought that after my presentation I would go nuts, maybe run naked on the street to celebrate (going with a bang kind of, *wink), but instead I left the presentation room as fast as possible, took the bus to my place, quickly put on my old “Très cool” blue T- shirt and dived into my bed, best feeling ever!!! I needed to first enjoy that moment by myself not worried about anything else. But as I lie in bed, I am battling a weird feeling of sadness, “no, not today”, it persisted, and I ended up crying. The good thing is that when I told Doreen about it, she said it happened to her too sometime after her presentation. “Ouff thank God I am definitely normal!” The days that followed were absolute happiness since I was rarely idle or asleep at my place. Besides my part time job, I had dinners, a great party with my Rwandese friends, sleep overs and horror movie nights with the girls and to top it, for the very first time ever I got stuck in an elevator for about 30 minutes because Manolis had the genius idea to press the stop button. So to make the wait for the technician a little less boring those who were smart enough not to follow him in the elevator played kinky videos for us on the phone from outside (Hmm… ok… it was porn! lol. Jesus these people! Bless their…our hearts.).
The last couple of weeks have been great too. Thank God all my friends are still in town and we can always catch up after work or during the weekends. I also managed to crawl from the dark place I was in and checked on my friends and siblings, apply for jobs, clean up my room, try new recipes, etc. But still, some days I randomly feel down for like an hour or so, stressed about having to move again sometime…anytime soon.
But with all that being said, overall, with the ups and downs, 2016 was a year of self-discovery and personal growth and I am very thankful for it. It solidified my respect and belief for true friendship and family bonds. If there is one thing I will forever be grateful for, it is the people in my life. I don’t know how he/ she did it, but God gave me the best of the best in people. I am eternally indebted to my friends, my cousins, and my family in general. This year I needed moral support and I got it, I actually got so much of it and I am grateful. If I had to thank each and every one of them it would take days and pages; but I hope that wherever they are, they know without a doubt that they mean so much to me and that they can always count on me. Even when I am not very present, I will always come through as much as I can.
I pray that I don’t spend most of my (young) days on this earth too focused on my little self and forget to be appreciative of all the blessings I have in people.
From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU! ❤
It’s 01:00 and you are wide awake. You’re unsuccessfully trying to create imaginary, soothing scenarios in your head to calm your soul and chase insomnia. For the last few minutes you are fighting the urge to go and binge drink the wine on the shelf, lately the only thing able to get you some sleep. Your daily routine includes small anxiety attacks at the thought of tomorrow and a ” A chaque jour suffit sa peine” to yourself at every sunset. Deadlines, shrinking bank account, bills, decisions and the future. I bet you thought there was plenty of time before you get to worry about all that, LOL! Don’t be silly though, you had a good life so far, in fact you are one of the luckiest people on earth. But today, in this moment, you are just a lonely young graduate in a foreign country.
You might not know it yet but you’re officially a respected member of the adults’ community. You deserve a star!
May the Gods be with you!
So this happened…Marie challenged me to do a handwriting tag
The rules are simple. You just have to write the following instructions on a piece of paper, take a picture of it and post it.
These are the instructions:
- Write your name.
- Write your blog’s url.
- Write: The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
- What are you writing with?
- Draw your favorite emoticon.
- Write a silly message.
- Write who you want to tag.
Here we go…
Pretty cool huh? *Sticks tongue out Hiihihii