Its was a great time in God's presence today....even though i was up and about through the service; i still made the best use of it....No help is better than God's help...i always prefer to say challenges than problems...Every challenge(s) you are facing right now receives God's help in jesus name....God has destined you for greatness,refuse to look at ur challenges right now and look up to the hills for that is where your help lies....Have a blessed,fruitful and productive week....Dont forget to always testify about the little things cause greater things awaits you.....
Sunday, 27 August 2017
Wednesday, 14 January 2015
We often hear about heartbreak from those mercilessly dumped by the “one” and left for dead on the side of the proverbial highway of love.
Their stories seem to be everywhere; there’s no lack of verbiage surrounding the disappointments of having your heart broken because someone didn’t want you anymore.
The same story is sung over and over like a bad Top 40 radio jam.
But what about the rest of us? What about the ones who actually do the breaking up? Where are our stories?
We’re the ones who faced a serious dilemma, a crossroads in our lives and ultimately had to make a decision.
We’re the ones who’ve fallen out of love. We’re the villains of the tales of horror, the “Maleficents,” the dragons, the trolls.
But ours is a different type of tragedy. Falling out of love is no easy experience. We don’t do it on purpose, and we don’t control it.
Our hearts don’t always align with the visions we have for our lives; emotions aren’t always vessels of simple manipulation and, try as we might, we cannot make passionate love exist where it does not.
Though being broken up with might break your heart, doing the actual breaking just might be the hardest thing of all.
When it’s the beginning of the end.
The beginning of the end starts slowly, almost unnoticeably at first. Falling out of love is a gradual process; it builds like a snowball rolling down a hill. At first, it’s just a pang of the heart, a strange feeling of distance, like your partner is covered in a kind of film.
It’s like you aren’t there, like you’re simply a fading shadow. You don’t want to leave your partner’s arms, but you want nothing more than to be away from his or her arms either. You brush it off, tell yourself it’s nothing; it’s just a phase.
This is your love, the person you can’t live without, the one thing that will always remain constant in your life because your heart is wrapped, evermore, around his or hers.
But slowly, one by one, things begin to unravel. Days with them begin to feel like weeks. The sound of their voice eats at you like bacteria.
You find yourself spending more and more time alone.
Suddenly, you want your space. If you had your way, you’d have space for all eternity. Every moment you spend with your partner feels forced and unnatural, so you spend more time alone because it makes you feel less guilty.
If you don’t spend time with your partner, you don’t feel as sad — and when you do spend time with him or her, it’s when you feel loneliest.
You feel vacant, avoiding his or her eyes because you fear they’ll be able to see the emptiness, the fading love evaporating like dew on summer grass. It slips away so quickly that you try desperately to hold on.
The more time you spend reading books in crowded parks or wandering aimlessly through the free sections of museums, the longer you can stave off the complete vacancy of your once endless love.
You avoid your partner’s touch.
You’ve replaced a once burning passion — a fiery longing — with abstinence. Your partner’s flesh begins to be a source of repulsion for you. You can only bring yourself to be intimate while heavily intoxicated because only then can you bring down the walls you’ve unconsciously built.
You feel like an actor in your own life. Your romance is a bad stage performance, and you’re the lead.
When he or she goes to kiss you goodbye in the morning, you force yourself to kiss back. Your skin burns when your partner runs a hand over your back the way you used to adore.
You say everything he or she wants to hear as if they were scripted lines. These words feel dirty in your mouth and leave a wretched taste. You wonder if your partner can feel the falseness of them, the transparency.
You can’t avoid the inevitable.
You’ve come to a point where you can no longer take the anxiety of the situation at hand. Your desire to make your partner happy, to avoid hurting him or her, has been outweighed by your survival instincts.
You can’t go on feeling this way because you know that in the end you’ll be left with a meaningless, hollow life. Maybe you met someone else, maybe you didn’t, but you’ve been emotionally cheating on him or her with the lies in the forefront of your brain.
You can’t stave off this feeling of shame.
Your partner begs you to tell him or her what’s wrong. Your heart breaks as the tears stream down both your faces. While you’re hurting him or her with the truth, you’re also hurting yourself. While you’re breaking your partner’s heart, your own heart shatters. You tell the truth because the burden of a lack of love is too great to bear.
You want to love this person, you desperately want to love him or her, but you can’t.
No one walks away from a breakup unscathed. No one walks away without bruises and scars. We never look at the other side, at the one who’s doing the breaking up. It’s not to hurt the other person on purpose. It’s not to be malicious or callous or unfeeling. In fact, we’re the ones feeling the most.
Once love is lost, it’s lost forever. The only thing to do is cry until your tear ducts are empty, scream until your throat is hoarse, lie in bed in the throes of darkness until you feel light again.
The only thing left to do is to understand that this is a freedom all on its own and what must be, will be done.
Somehow, someway life will go on.
– Gigi Engle/EliteDaily
Posted on 19:22:00 by Unknown
Wednesday, 7 January 2015
Read this article by azuka of opinions online and decided to share:
The dream of every parent is to know that their children/ward is doing well in school by studying well but the act or habit is meant to be instilled...This is his writeup
I am among the luckiest fathers on earth. My wife is also among the luckiest mothers. Why? Our children prefer reading to eating. One is nine while the other is seven. Any time they have a novel in their hands, they cannot concentrate on whatever they are doing. I may get angry and reprimand them, but deep inside, I am overjoyed.
When our friends see or hear about it, they ask: “How did you do it? I have bought my children all manner of books, but they don’t like to read them.”
And the result is that our kids have got the fundamentals of language. They easily know when there is an error in tenses, which is the critical element in the English language. So, when you say something like, “I wish I were there,” you would need to explain to them why “were” should be used for “I” instead of “am” or “was.”
In addition, whenever you tell them anything, they think about it, and if it does not sound logical, they ask you questions. So, I am confident that they will not grow up to become adults that will be led by the nose.
Whenever they ask us questions about the galaxy, animals or micro organisms, we know we are in trouble. The reason is that they are always reading children’s science books and children’s encyclopaedia as well as watching animal channels and having access to children’s video dictionary.
So, the interesting narratives in story books and the fascinating information and pictures in science books made them love to read books. These are complemented by the cartoon and video games they watch.
One good thing this does is that it fills a child with stories and information to share with other children when they are together. A child who always has so many stories to tell is usually surrounded by other children who are eager to listen to him or her. That is leadership.
Reading for fun is the foundation of reading to pass exams. We were first concerned about making our children love reading. Even though they were performing well in their exams, our target was to first make them love books. We were certain that once that was achieved, topping the class would be a natural follow-up.
The best time to make a child love books is when the child is little. Even before the child is able to read, buy nursery books and stories and read them to the child. Even if you can’t read stories to them as often as you can, make sure they have story books with pictures that they can look at and play with. No story is boring for children. Some stories are meant to awaken their imagination, while some are meant to tell them about real people that existed and the feats they achieved as well as real events that happened in history and their implication. Therefore, it does not matter if you tell them stories about the tortoise and the lion, Perseus and Andromeda, Achilles and his heel, Isaiah and the prophets of Baal, King Jaja of Opobo and the English colonialists, Nelson Mandela and Apartheid South Africa, Gani Fawehinmi and Nigerian rulers, Julius Caesar and the Ides of March, or Shylock and his pound of flesh. What matters is that you tell them stories that excite their minds.
Most times when I hear, “Daddy, I will not sleep unless you tell me a story,” I find myself in a fix. If I can’t bluff my way out of the conundrum, I look up and down, and if nothing comes to my mind, my eyes would rest on the TV or fan in their room, and a story would start: “Once upon a time, there was a TV named Kadongo.” I would proceed on my story that has no head or tail, pausing to find the next thing to say. Any time I pause, I would hear: “And what happened next?” Most times, just in a matter of minutes, they would have been sent to sleep by my aimless story. I would heave a sigh of relief and tiptoe out of their room.
But sometimes I would not be so lucky, for the next morning, I would be asked: “Daddy, so what happened to the TV?” I would be wondering which TV the child was talking about. When I eventually understood what the child was referring to, I would start groping for words like a snail finding its way through thorns, all in a bid to complete my story. But sometimes when I don’t know what story to tell, I tell them that it is their mom’s turn to tell them a story. Even that excuse does not usually guarantee me freedom from them.
Two years ago, in addition to running out of stories, I discovered that our children were reading too much of foreign stories like Alice in the Wonderland, Snow White, and Cinderella as well as Enid Blyton’s books. I challenged myself to write 100 original African children’s stories in 100 days. Sadly, I ended up writing only 33 stories, which they devoured in a matter of hours and asked for more. We have since got many Nigerian story books for them.
We live in modern times where technology is available to children in different forms: cartoons, video games, computer games, phone games, etc. They need to use these, but the danger in them is that they are addictive and distractive. Children who immerse themselves in them excessively usually feel that books are boring, and these materials can never give the same value that books give. So, what we do is that we limit the hours and periods that our children watch cartoons and play video games. Sometimes, we limit cartoons and video games to weekends or when we are satisfied that they have read books and done all their homework. The rule is that whether we are home or not, our children must take permission before switching on their TV or the central TV for any cartoon or game.
I have noticed that a child that reads extensively and watches different types of cartoons, and plays video games has a mind that is loaded with information and ideas. That is a child that begins reasoning early in life, a child that analyses whatever he or she hears, a child that questions things and is not easily deceived.
Maybe, some children are naturally built to love reading while some are not, but my experience is that if a child is consciously and systematically introduced to reading early in life, it would be almost impossible for that child not to like learning as an adult...
What's your own opinion?
Posted on 23:11:00 by Unknown
Wednesday, 31 December 2014
The strongest people aren't always the people who win, but the people who don't give up when they lose..2014 might have been a rough one for you but I say be strong for 2015 holds better for you...As we count hours to 2014...Miz.Faith wishes you a happy and joyous 2015...see you at the top
Posted on 01:10:00 by Unknown
Thursday, 18 December 2014
WOKE UP TODAY FEELING TOTALLY AWESOME....THANKS TO GOD WHO HAS GIVEN ME AND YOU LIFE....WHAT IS YOUR DRIVE?
WHAT INSPIRES YOU TO BE THAT GREAT PERSON THAT YOU ARE?
THAT YOU HAVE BEEN PURPOSED TO BE...
YOU ARE GIVEN THIS LIFE BECAUSE YOU ARE STRONG ENOUGH TO LIVE IT.
GOD HAS PROMISED YOU A BLESSED END..IT WONT BE EASY I MUST SAY BUT IT WILL SURE BE WORTH IT.
BE INSPIRED
Posted on 23:56:00 by Unknown
Friday, 12 December 2014
Every one of us needs ways to get over failure in life.
Unfortunately, in societies obsessed with achievement and success,
failure seems to be the worst thing that could happen to a person. In
fact, failure is commonplace in life and it’s important to learn how to
get over it. Don’t let the fear of failure ruin your life, follow these
tips on how to overcome your failure and hopefully they will help you.
Often failure can be a sign that you are on the wrong track. Maybe
you need to move in an absolutely new direction. Don’t think that you
can’t change anything in your life, you can. You need to overcome your
fear of failure and move your life in the right direction.
I admit it, I’m a big overthinker and when something bad happens, I
overthink it the whole day and night and I can’t stop thinking about it.
For me, the most effective way to get over failure is to occupy my
mind. I occupy myself with the things I’ve always wanted to do or things
that must be done. Occupy your mind and think about the present, not
the past. Reading books, painting, volunteering are all good options to
try.
However, you are not
alone and I’m sure that you have at least one person who can help you
overcome your failure. If you don’t have anybody, then pray. The power
of faith is enormous. I know many people don’t believe in keeping faith,
but my faith has always helped me through the hard times and it has
helped me to get over a few large failures in my life. Give it a try
before telling that it’s useless.
No matter how big your failure was, you shouldn’t dwell on it. You
should learn from it and move forward. I know it’s easier said than
done, but you can’t change your past and the only thing you can do is to
learn from your mistakes and never make them again. How did you get
over your failure? Share your tips with us, please. Who knows, maybe you
will help someone.
Source:AMERIKANKI LIFESTYLE.
1. Learn from your mistakes
One of the best ways to get over your failure is to learn from it. Don’t make the same mistake again. Just because you failed once doesn’t mean you will fail again, but you can’t get over failure if you don’t realize your mistakes. Learn the lesson your failure gives you and make sure you move on.2. Take a breath
Now, I’m absolutely serious. Taking a few deep breaths can help you calm down and think clearly about your situation. Unfortunately, many people never use this tip, but from my personal experience I can say that it really works. Your life doesn’t end with only one failure. Just don’t allow it to destroy your peace. Keep your peace no matter what and try to stay calm in any situation.
3. Choose a new direction
Often failure can be a sign that you are on the wrong track. Maybe
you need to move in an absolutely new direction. Don’t think that you
can’t change anything in your life, you can. You need to overcome your
fear of failure and move your life in the right direction.4. Occupy your mind
5. Pray
If you are alone, your situation may seem worse.6. Reflect on how it all went wrong
Every failure is actually another opportunity for growth. Failures and mistakes help make you stronger, always remember about it. But you will never get over your failure if you don’t realize what actually went wrong. Take time to think about that and find out real reasons of your failure.7. Don’t let others bring you down
I’ve had a lot of disappointments in the last three years. From failed relationships to not getting promotion, I have failed in almost every aspect of my life. However, I will never allow anyone to bring me down or make me feel desperate simply because something went wrong. Never, ever give anyone the power to destroy you and make you feel ‘less than.’ No one is perfect and everyone makes mistakes, so embrace yourself because you are a wonderful and smart person that can achieve almost everything in life!Source:AMERIKANKI LIFESTYLE.
Posted on 04:21:00 by Unknown
Thursday, 11 December 2014
I guess majority of us know Bill cosby the popular African American:Here is a picture of him..
This is Beverly Johnson's' story that i just read online about him;She says.....
Like most Americans, I spent the 60s, 70s, and part of the 80s in awe of Bill Cosby and his total domination of popular culture. He was the first African American to star in a dramatic television series, I Spy, a show my family in Buffalo, New York, always watched. Cosby cut a striking figure on-screen then. He was funny, smart, and even elegant—all those wonderful things many white Americans didn’t associate with people of color. In fact, as I thought of going public with what follows, a voice in my head kept whispering, “Black men have enough enemies out there already, they certainly don’t need someone like you, an African American with a familiar face and a famous name, fanning the flames.”
Imagine my joy in the mid-80s when an agent called to say Bill Cosby wanted me to audition for a role on the The Cosby Show. Cosby played an obstetrician, and he sometimes used models to portray pregnant women sitting in his office waiting room. It was a small part with one or two speaking lines at most, but I wanted in.
I was in the midst of an ugly custody battle for my only child. I needed a big break badly and appearing on The Cosby Show seemed like an excellent way of getting Hollywood’s attention. I’d appeared in one or two movies already, but my phone wasn’t exactly ringing off the hook with acting jobs.
Cosby’s handlers invited me to a taping of the show so I could get the lay of the land and an idea of what my role required. After the taping I met all the cast and then met with Cosby in his office to talk a bit about the hell I’d been through in my marriage. He appeared concerned and then asked what I wanted from my career going forward. He seemed genuinely interested in guiding me to the next level. I was on cloud nine.
I brought my daughter to the next taping I attended. Afterward, Cosby asked if I could meet him at his home that weekend to read for the part. My ex-husband had primary custody of my daughter at the time, and I usually spent my weekends with her. Cosby suggested I bring her along, which really reeled me in. He was the Jell-O Pudding man; like most kids, my daughter loved him. When my daughter and I visited Cosby’s New York brownstone, his staff served us a delicious brunch. Then he gave us a tour of the exceptional multi-level home.
Looking back, that first invite from Cosby to his home seems like part of a perfectly laid out plan, a way to make me feel secure with him at all times. It worked like a charm. Cosby suggested I come back to his house a few days later to read for the part. I agreed, and one late afternoon the following week I returned. His staff served a light dinner and Bill and I talked more about my plans for the future.
After the meal, we walked upstairs to a huge living area of his home that featured a massive bar. A huge brass espresso contraption took up half the counter. At the time, it seemed rare for someone to have such a machine in his home for personal use.
Cosby said he wanted to see how I handled various scenes, so he suggested that I pretend to be drunk. (When did a pregnant woman ever appear drunk on The Cosby Show? Probably never, but I went with it.)
As I readied myself to be the best drunk I could be, he offered me a cappuccino from the espresso machine. I told him I didn’t drink coffee that late in the afternoon because it made getting to sleep at night more difficult. He wouldn’t let it go. He insisted that his espresso machine was the best model on the market and promised I’d never tasted a cappuccino quite like this one.
It’s nuts, I know, but it felt oddly inappropriate arguing with Bill Cosby so I took a few sips of the coffee just to appease him.
Now let me explain this: I was a top model during the 70s, a period when drugs flowed at parties and photo shoots like bottled water at a health spa. I’d had my fun and experimented with my fair share of mood enhancers. I knew by the second sip of the drink Cosby had given me that I’d been drugged—and drugged good.
 |
| BILL COSBY |
This is Beverly Johnson's' story that i just read online about him;She says.....
Like most Americans, I spent the 60s, 70s, and part of the 80s in awe of Bill Cosby and his total domination of popular culture. He was the first African American to star in a dramatic television series, I Spy, a show my family in Buffalo, New York, always watched. Cosby cut a striking figure on-screen then. He was funny, smart, and even elegant—all those wonderful things many white Americans didn’t associate with people of color. In fact, as I thought of going public with what follows, a voice in my head kept whispering, “Black men have enough enemies out there already, they certainly don’t need someone like you, an African American with a familiar face and a famous name, fanning the flames.”
Imagine my joy in the mid-80s when an agent called to say Bill Cosby wanted me to audition for a role on the The Cosby Show. Cosby played an obstetrician, and he sometimes used models to portray pregnant women sitting in his office waiting room. It was a small part with one or two speaking lines at most, but I wanted in.
 |
| BEVERLY JOHNSON |
I was in the midst of an ugly custody battle for my only child. I needed a big break badly and appearing on The Cosby Show seemed like an excellent way of getting Hollywood’s attention. I’d appeared in one or two movies already, but my phone wasn’t exactly ringing off the hook with acting jobs.
Cosby’s handlers invited me to a taping of the show so I could get the lay of the land and an idea of what my role required. After the taping I met all the cast and then met with Cosby in his office to talk a bit about the hell I’d been through in my marriage. He appeared concerned and then asked what I wanted from my career going forward. He seemed genuinely interested in guiding me to the next level. I was on cloud nine.
I brought my daughter to the next taping I attended. Afterward, Cosby asked if I could meet him at his home that weekend to read for the part. My ex-husband had primary custody of my daughter at the time, and I usually spent my weekends with her. Cosby suggested I bring her along, which really reeled me in. He was the Jell-O Pudding man; like most kids, my daughter loved him. When my daughter and I visited Cosby’s New York brownstone, his staff served us a delicious brunch. Then he gave us a tour of the exceptional multi-level home.
Looking back, that first invite from Cosby to his home seems like part of a perfectly laid out plan, a way to make me feel secure with him at all times. It worked like a charm. Cosby suggested I come back to his house a few days later to read for the part. I agreed, and one late afternoon the following week I returned. His staff served a light dinner and Bill and I talked more about my plans for the future.
After the meal, we walked upstairs to a huge living area of his home that featured a massive bar. A huge brass espresso contraption took up half the counter. At the time, it seemed rare for someone to have such a machine in his home for personal use.
Cosby said he wanted to see how I handled various scenes, so he suggested that I pretend to be drunk. (When did a pregnant woman ever appear drunk on The Cosby Show? Probably never, but I went with it.)
As I readied myself to be the best drunk I could be, he offered me a cappuccino from the espresso machine. I told him I didn’t drink coffee that late in the afternoon because it made getting to sleep at night more difficult. He wouldn’t let it go. He insisted that his espresso machine was the best model on the market and promised I’d never tasted a cappuccino quite like this one.
It’s nuts, I know, but it felt oddly inappropriate arguing with Bill Cosby so I took a few sips of the coffee just to appease him.
Now let me explain this: I was a top model during the 70s, a period when drugs flowed at parties and photo shoots like bottled water at a health spa. I’d had my fun and experimented with my fair share of mood enhancers. I knew by the second sip of the drink Cosby had given me that I’d been drugged—and drugged good.
The Editor’s Note read: Cosby’s attorneys did not respond to Vanity Fair’s requests for comment.]
My head became woozy, my speech became slurred, and the room began to spin nonstop. Cosby motioned for me to come over to him as though we were really about to act out the scene. He put his hands around my waist, and I managed to put my hand on his shoulder in order to steady myself.
As I felt my body go completely limp, my brain switched into automatic-survival mode. That meant making sure Cosby understood that I knew exactly what was happening at that very moment.
“You are a motherfucker aren’t you?”
That’s the exact question I yelled at him as he stood there holding me, expecting me to bend to his will. I rapidly called him several more “motherfuckers.” By the fifth, I could tell that I was really pissing him off. At one point he dropped his hands from my waist and just stood there looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
What happened next is somewhat cloudy for me because the drug was in fuller play by that time. I recall his seething anger at my tirade and then him grabbing me by my left arm hard and yanking all 110 pounds of me down a bunch of stairs as my high heels clicked and clacked on every step. I feared my neck was going to break with the force he was using to pull me down those stairs.
It was still late afternoon and the sun hadn’t completely gone down yet. When we reached the front door, he pulled me outside of the brownstone and then, with his hand still tightly clenched around my arm, stood in the middle of the street waving down taxis.
When one stopped, Cosby opened the door, shoved me into it and slammed the door behind me without ever saying a word. I somehow managed to tell the driver my address and before blacking out, I looked at the cabbie and asked, as if he knew: “Did I really just call Bill Cosby ‘a motherfucker’?”
Why that was even a concern of mine after what I’d just been through is still a mystery to me? I think my mind refused to process it.
The next day I woke up in my own bed after falling into a deep sleep that lasted most of the day. I had no memory of how I got into my apartment or into my bed, though most likely my doorman helped me out.
I sat in there still stunned by what happened the night before, confused and devastated by the idea that someone I admired so much had tried to take advantage of me, and used drugs to do so. Had I done something to encourage his actions?
In reality, I knew I’d done nothing to encourage Cosby but my mind kept turning with question after question.
It took a few days for the drug to completely wear off and soon I had to get back to work. I headed to California for an acting audition. Not long after arriving, I decided I needed to confront Cosby for my own sanity’s sake. I thought if I just called him, he would come clean and explain why he’d done what he had.
I dialed the private number he’d given me expecting to hear his voice on the other end. But he didn’t answer. His wife did. A little shocked, I quickly identified myself to her in the most respectful way possible and then asked to speak to Bill. Camille politely informed me that it was very late, 11:00 P.M. and that they were both in bed together.
I apologized for the late call and explained that I was in Los Angeles and had forgotten about the three-hour time difference. I added that I would call back tomorrow.
I didn’t call back the next day or any other day after that. At a certain moment it became clear that I would be fighting a losing battle with a powerful man so callous he not only drugged me, but he also gave me the number to the bedroom he shared with his wife. How could I fight someone that boldly arrogant and out of touch? In the end, just like the other women, I had too much to lose to go after Bill Cosby. I had a career that would no doubt take a huge hit if I went public with my story and I certainly couldn’t afford that after my costly divorce and on going court fees.
For a long time I thought it was something that only happened to me, and that I was somehow responsible. So I kept my secret to myself, believing this truth needed to remain in the darkness. But the last four weeks have changed everything, as so many women have shared similar stories, of which the press have belatedly taken heed.
This is sad,what do u think?
My head became woozy, my speech became slurred, and the room began to spin nonstop. Cosby motioned for me to come over to him as though we were really about to act out the scene. He put his hands around my waist, and I managed to put my hand on his shoulder in order to steady myself.
As I felt my body go completely limp, my brain switched into automatic-survival mode. That meant making sure Cosby understood that I knew exactly what was happening at that very moment.
“You are a motherfucker aren’t you?”
That’s the exact question I yelled at him as he stood there holding me, expecting me to bend to his will. I rapidly called him several more “motherfuckers.” By the fifth, I could tell that I was really pissing him off. At one point he dropped his hands from my waist and just stood there looking at me like I’d lost my mind.
What happened next is somewhat cloudy for me because the drug was in fuller play by that time. I recall his seething anger at my tirade and then him grabbing me by my left arm hard and yanking all 110 pounds of me down a bunch of stairs as my high heels clicked and clacked on every step. I feared my neck was going to break with the force he was using to pull me down those stairs.
It was still late afternoon and the sun hadn’t completely gone down yet. When we reached the front door, he pulled me outside of the brownstone and then, with his hand still tightly clenched around my arm, stood in the middle of the street waving down taxis.
When one stopped, Cosby opened the door, shoved me into it and slammed the door behind me without ever saying a word. I somehow managed to tell the driver my address and before blacking out, I looked at the cabbie and asked, as if he knew: “Did I really just call Bill Cosby ‘a motherfucker’?”
Why that was even a concern of mine after what I’d just been through is still a mystery to me? I think my mind refused to process it.
The next day I woke up in my own bed after falling into a deep sleep that lasted most of the day. I had no memory of how I got into my apartment or into my bed, though most likely my doorman helped me out.
I sat in there still stunned by what happened the night before, confused and devastated by the idea that someone I admired so much had tried to take advantage of me, and used drugs to do so. Had I done something to encourage his actions?
In reality, I knew I’d done nothing to encourage Cosby but my mind kept turning with question after question.
It took a few days for the drug to completely wear off and soon I had to get back to work. I headed to California for an acting audition. Not long after arriving, I decided I needed to confront Cosby for my own sanity’s sake. I thought if I just called him, he would come clean and explain why he’d done what he had.
I dialed the private number he’d given me expecting to hear his voice on the other end. But he didn’t answer. His wife did. A little shocked, I quickly identified myself to her in the most respectful way possible and then asked to speak to Bill. Camille politely informed me that it was very late, 11:00 P.M. and that they were both in bed together.
I apologized for the late call and explained that I was in Los Angeles and had forgotten about the three-hour time difference. I added that I would call back tomorrow.
I didn’t call back the next day or any other day after that. At a certain moment it became clear that I would be fighting a losing battle with a powerful man so callous he not only drugged me, but he also gave me the number to the bedroom he shared with his wife. How could I fight someone that boldly arrogant and out of touch? In the end, just like the other women, I had too much to lose to go after Bill Cosby. I had a career that would no doubt take a huge hit if I went public with my story and I certainly couldn’t afford that after my costly divorce and on going court fees.
For a long time I thought it was something that only happened to me, and that I was somehow responsible. So I kept my secret to myself, believing this truth needed to remain in the darkness. But the last four weeks have changed everything, as so many women have shared similar stories, of which the press have belatedly taken heed.
This is sad,what do u think?
Posted on 13:26:00 by Unknown
Tuesday, 2 December 2014
The power of forgiveness can never be over emphasized...I for one am a typical case.There's this good feeling you get when you let go totally of the hurts family,friends,colleagues and everyday people leave with you.
Unforgiveness is a stench;a very bad one that you should never have with you.I love the feeling I have and the reaction I get from people who think that they've got me to be so hurt when they see me happy and as though notthing ever happened..You should forgive and let go if not the person whom you're angry with has total control of you..How long is your time here that you have the strength and the energy to quarrel and keep malice...
It aint easy to let go off some bad hurts but it is worth it!!!
Forgiveness is the greater one.
Posted on 23:30:00 by Unknown
Monday, 1 December 2014
Late-night meals may interfere with your memory, a new study has warned.
The study in mice found that eating during times of day when one would normally be sleeping impaired the animals’ memory for objects they had seen, even when the rats got the same amount of sleep as mice on a normal eating and sleeping schedule.
Study co-author Christopher Colwell, of the University of California, Los Angeles, and a team of researchers acclimatised mice to a normal sleep
schedule, sleeping during the day. Mice are nocturnal, so they are normally awake at night and asleep during the day.
Then, the researchers allowed some of the animals to eat only during the time they were typically asleep, while allowing others to eat when the animals would normally be awake, ‘LiveScience’ reported.
The mice on the misaligned eating schedule had shifted sleep times, but they still slept for the same total amount of time, ate the same amount of
food and weighed the same as the mice that ate at normal times, Colwell said.
The researchers then tested the mice’s memory. In one experiment, they put the mice in a box with two different objects, and allowed them to
explore.
Then, after putting the animals on different feeding schedules, the researchers placed them in the box with one of the familiar objects and one new object, and measured how long the mice spent exploring each one.
Compared with the mice on the aligned eating schedule, the misaligned mice showed a significant decline in memory.
The animals on the altered feeding and sleep schedule spent more time exploring the familiar object, suggesting they didn’t remember encountering the object before In a second experiment, the researchers conditioned both groups of mice
to feel fear in a certain location, and later put them back in that location to see if they showed fear.
The mice on the shifted eating schedule froze less often in the fearful situation than their normal-schedule peers, suggesting the odd eating and
sleeping schedule affected the animals’ memory of scary situations.
The researchers also found that the mice that ate during normal sleeping periods learned less quickly than the mice that ate at normal times.
The study was presented at the annual meeting of the Society for Neuroscience in Washington, DC.
The study in mice found that eating during times of day when one would normally be sleeping impaired the animals’ memory for objects they had seen, even when the rats got the same amount of sleep as mice on a normal eating and sleeping schedule.
Study co-author Christopher Colwell, of the University of California, Los Angeles, and a team of researchers acclimatised mice to a normal sleep
schedule, sleeping during the day. Mice are nocturnal, so they are normally awake at night and asleep during the day.
Then, the researchers allowed some of the animals to eat only during the time they were typically asleep, while allowing others to eat when the animals would normally be awake, ‘LiveScience’ reported.
The mice on the misaligned eating schedule had shifted sleep times, but they still slept for the same total amount of time, ate the same amount of
food and weighed the same as the mice that ate at normal times, Colwell said.
The researchers then tested the mice’s memory. In one experiment, they put the mice in a box with two different objects, and allowed them to
explore.
Then, after putting the animals on different feeding schedules, the researchers placed them in the box with one of the familiar objects and one new object, and measured how long the mice spent exploring each one.
Compared with the mice on the aligned eating schedule, the misaligned mice showed a significant decline in memory.
The animals on the altered feeding and sleep schedule spent more time exploring the familiar object, suggesting they didn’t remember encountering the object before In a second experiment, the researchers conditioned both groups of mice
to feel fear in a certain location, and later put them back in that location to see if they showed fear.
The mice on the shifted eating schedule froze less often in the fearful situation than their normal-schedule peers, suggesting the odd eating and
sleeping schedule affected the animals’ memory of scary situations.
The researchers also found that the mice that ate during normal sleeping periods learned less quickly than the mice that ate at normal times.
The study was presented at the annual meeting of the Society for Neuroscience in Washington, DC.
Posted on 20:38:00 by Unknown
Hi!!!!
So glad to be back here,its been a long long time and that's my bad...I'm so so sorry.
Been a great year so far,thank God for this new month and the last of 2014...Yayyyyyyy!
God has been so faithful,Wish you a great month of December and its so goin to be your best month so far in this year 2014...God's doing new things,extraordinary in your life...God bless you richly!!!
So glad to be back here,its been a long long time and that's my bad...I'm so so sorry.
Been a great year so far,thank God for this new month and the last of 2014...Yayyyyyyy!
God has been so faithful,Wish you a great month of December and its so goin to be your best month so far in this year 2014...God's doing new things,extraordinary in your life...God bless you richly!!!
Posted on 11:39:00 by Unknown
Wednesday, 26 February 2014
Nigeriafilms.com authoritatively reported that Doris Simeon is presently enjoying a high patronage of customers at her recently established hair dressing salon, ‘Davris Beauty Centre’ in Ogba, Lagos.
Also, the investment has helped the actress put behind her the bad experiences she had over her troubled marriage. You would recall that Doris established the hair salon after her marriage to a movie producer and director, Daniel Ademinokan crashed like a badly arranged pack of cards.
A visit to the salon recently set up by the popular Nollywood actress will surely make someone reach at a conclusion that the pretty actress is regaining her joy after her crashed marriage.
Allegations were rife last year that another actress, Stella Damasus snatched Daniel from Doris
Doris reportedly established the beauty care salon, Davris in December 2013. The name of the salon is a combination of her son’s name and hers. This venture, as we learnt, is now a source of joy to the beautiful actress.
A visit to the centre, which is located at Abanikonda Street off Haruna Bus Stop, along College Road, Ogba, will attest to the fact that Doris is getting high patronage. Nigeriafilms.com reliably learnt that some of her colleagues in the movie industry have been very supportive too as they go there to make their hair regularly.
Posted on 02:02:00 by Unknown
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