October 21, 2015

New Job!

October 21, 2015 0

This one will be quick. I just want to express how incredibly happy I am that I’m finally officially a substitute teacher! It has been such a long and draining process but I don’t regret it at all. With all the random obstacles, I was beginning to feel discouraged. But I made it! I can barely hold in my excitement. I was already called to sub for my first class this week. I can’t wait to meet the kids and maybe even change some lives. You can now call me Ms. Iyawe haha :)
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October 20, 2015

Will’s 23rd Birthday

October 20, 2015 0


Last week was a great one. Aside from my TWO medical school acceptances (more on that later), William turned 23 on Saturday. We left for San Diego on Saturday afternoon because his older brother Mark got us our own hotel room four rooms down from his and his girlfriend’s room. On our way to San Diego, Will told me to call Mark to update him on our ETA. He said, “Get used to talking to him. He’s your future brother-in-law.” Now Will and I have talked about marriage a lot but for some reason, this took my by surprise and I was so happy he said that. It seemed to solidify our plans to spend the rest of our lives together. Anyway when we got to the hotel, I was in awe. It was so fancy! It was decorated French Victorian style and there was gold and red everywhere. It was gorgeous. After getting settled in, we got dressed and went out to dinner. The city was beautiful. Will and I agreed that San Diego would be an ideal place to live and raise our family (unless of course we find a better location).
Saturday was great but Sunday was the day of the real event. Will and I met Mark downstairs and Mark pulled out an engagement ring! Turns out the entire weekend was planned only to propose to his girlfriend Barbara (sorry Will, this weekend wasn’t about you). We had a buffet brunch and I got to meet more members of Will’s family, the most important being his grandpa. He was an amazing man and Will’s idol. I was so honored to finally meet him. Their uncle Peter was also nice to talk to. He asked so many questions and actually really wanted to get to know me. I got to meet young Oliver, Barbara’s grandson and one of the cutest little boys I’ve ever met.



When brunch ended, Mark gathered everyone to take a picture and on cue, Will called Barbara’s name so she turned to face him. When she turned back around, Mark was on his knees with the beautiful ring. He asked her to be his wife and she said yes :) It was an amazing moment and I’m so happy I got to be there for the proposal.
The weekend was filled with so much more, too much for a single blog post. I’m just so blessed to have been a part of it all.
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October 13, 2015

Colors

October 13, 2015 3

I recently did a photoshoot for a friend's project ("Colors" by Noor Euceph). She asked female models of various different skin colors to write about their ethnicity and what their skin color means to them. I loved participating in this project because too often, I see signs in the media (both explicit and implicit) that my shade of beauty isn't up to par. As a child, I struggled with the self-hatred caused by my exposure to such things but now, I couldn't possibly love my skin more. I truly hope that every woman who looks like me will realize how gorgeous she is.

Anyway this is how I answered her questions:

What is your ethnic background/what ethnicity do you identity with?
I am Nigerian. I was born there and I was raised very culturally Nigerian. Because of my background, I am grounded in my roots.

What does your skin color mean to you?
When I think of my skin color, I think about my journey from self-hatred to self-love. My skin color is a lesson in pride and accepting myself in a society with standard of beauty that doesn’t. My skin color encompasses the struggle and the triumph of an immigrant, the conflict between two languages and cultures, the pressure to be academically and socially outstanding, and all the negative and positive feelings of being considered “exotic". Unfortunately, it took me a while to realize how incredibly beautiful my skin really is, but better late than never. I hope that everyone takes pride in their skin color, especially those raised in societies that don’t appreciate its beauty. I know I do. I mean, how could I hate my skin color when it is a testament to how much the sun is in love with me?
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October 9, 2015

October

October 09, 2015 3

There’s something about this month that I love and I can’t really find the words to explain why. This entire season actually is like a time machine taking me back with its powerful vivid memories. But it still grounds me in the present with irreplaceable moments.
October reminds me of the harsh winds of the Inland Empire, blowing as my brothers and I went trick-or-treating with our mom. This is when we were happy, with our own home and not-divorced parents. October was the month we’d huddle downstairs with thick blankets and hot chocolate watching Halloweentown and laughing.
College October was a different kind of happy. We were a bunch of kids trying to relive our childhood but still prove that we were adult enough to live on our own. In the mornings and afternoons, I wore huge Bill Cosby sweaters pretending it got cold in LA. We spent evenings huddled up with thick blankets and hot chocolate watching Halloweentown and laughing. We spent nights downing vodka and party-hopping in the most revealing “costumes” we could find.
College October was when I met Will. Well technically I met him January the year before. But the October of my third year in college was when I really met him. I exposed my deepest thoughts and fears and the past no one was allowed to know. On that extremely uncomfortable wooden excuse for a couch, or on that giant stuffed bear, or in my bed, with soft music in the background, he uncovered parts of me that were always hidden. Good and bad. One October night, we were lying on the giant bear with blue Christmas lights on and Allen Stone playing on Pandora. I read to him some of the poems on my phone, free-verse, spoken word, sonnets, and more. In the midst of the poems I wrote about why I thought love didn’t exist was this

Would you believe it if I said I wanted to live in your arms?
Build a shelter between those biceps
The view from my home could be those huge hazel irises
Perfectly framed by your gorgeous eyelashes
I swear I’d never leave
Fill my heart with the red that flushes your face when we make eye contact
You can be the one who makes me forget the rest
My doorbell can be your voice
Ringing when it says you don’t want me anywhere else
My doorbell can be your voice
Singing as you say, “We can be in love…”
In no one else, I’ll take refuge
Change my point of view
I think I might let you


It wasn’t about him. But it became about him. October was when we started spending every day together. We laughed a lot. And I cried a lot; it was the least alone I had ever felt. And I told him about the harsh winds of my childhood Octobers, when my family had a big house, when we were happy – or at least I like to remember it that way.
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