one of those…

It’s 5am Tuesday morning, well 5.40 to be exact, 5 was the time I should have been up. I have no excuse, no smart reason why I woke up 40mins later, just that I’m a lazy girl who clearly has her priorities all wrong if I even have the gut to write for her blog rather than read for her marketing paper in a couple of hours. I guess I just know when I’m screwed, in those situations I do what everyone does best, run from reality. Some would say if I’m going to waste good morning hours yapping away, then I might as well just go on back to sleep. I would kill for even 30 more minutes of deep, dreamless, quiet sleep, it’s just not worth the guilt and self-battery, so I’m up for the day. Nothing, not even strong, black, sugar-less coffee is working right now, I’m so damn sleepy!!


Lately I’ve discovered writing that I can only aspire to get to, work that speaks to an inner voice in me, writing that shouts talent, a true gift. It has truly inspired me to take what I love to do, the only consistent thing I’ve loved to do all my life a little bit more seriously, from now on, I shall write at least three posts a week, I’m a student, I have no excuse not to write, I spend all my days zoning out in class, passing time gossiping in the cafeteria after class, dragging myself back to class and daydreaming about getting home to jersey shore or some other reality thrill that helps me escape from my own miserable existence. I love reality shows! Shoot me.


Jackson Biko’s blog has been a true inspiration, I love his expressive writing, he makes it look like an effortless work of art rather than hours spent pounding at the keyboard staring at the blank white page and hoping to derive inspiration from it. I’m guessing correctly that years of various life experiences, travel and encounters with people from all walks of life haven’t hurt his talent either.  He makes 2000 words look like a piece of cake, I’ve done 365 words and I’m already drawing blanks.But that is the beauty of a blog, it’s your space, no pre-set rules, no word count allocation, no penalties for not using spell check, or using words from other languages or making up your own words, or just going on and on about my life, plus I can use whatever colour I choose! anyone that has a problem with it can just click close on the page and move on to a fashion blog with much fewer words.


I’ve been watching the secret diary of a call girl, at first I liked it (I’m in season 3, if that’s anything to go by), but recently it has left me quite un-settled. It’s the people who look the plainest, the common folk, the good people who do things that blow our minds. She’s a secretary, a good majority and the kinkiest I might add, of her clients are bank managers, insurance brokers, regular, trustworthy people with wives they seem to adore and kids they obviously love. Each time someone lets a comment such as, “He would never do such a thing”, “Who her? She’s a church girl, you can trust her”, “But he’s such a nice guy!” I hold my breathe, those are the worst kind largely because those are the ones that knock your socks off.


Each time, we still have the same look of utter disdain and shock. I don’t know how character is judged anymore, all I know is, with time everything is always revealed and no one is quite what they seem at first glance everyone wears a front, some don’t quite get it to fit but others, the better actors and actresses, out there wear it professionally and play it effortlessly those are the ones I pray never to get too involved with, those are the kind that leave scars that no fading cream will ever get rid of.


That’s what I try to think of each time I want to say that about Mc W, so I stop myself from making such embarrassing declarations, though if he tries such crap he knows I’ll cut him. Awhile back, actually about a year or two back, my very close and dear friend, let’s call her Honey, was very fond of shouting those declarations from the mountain top, very sure of her situation so naturally we were very curious about this beau and we had to meet him. And meet him we did. To say we expected a lot more, to say she grossly oversold him is to exceedingly understate it. But what stuck out most is his very friendly manner towards the women folk attending, I thought that a tad inappropriate but I let it go, what I couldn’t let go of though, was at the club when the nigger had the audacity to try nibble at my ear and proceed to try have sex with me in HER house when we hot back home! The chutzpah, the sheer nerve! Really? We’d just met…you’re girlfriend’s friends? Day one of meeting? What happened to seeking approval? Being on one’s best behaviour because you know the importance of first impressions?!! it’s beyond me!

I seriously considered letting her know but couldn’t get the nerve to tell my dear friend that the man she’s been cooing about for the longest time, the love of her life, her best friend was a lying, cheating, horny son of a bitch worse than the rest of them because clearly the man has no conscience! Long story short, I never said a word to her for reasons I do not wish to justify, she is now 6months with child and engaged to the bastard and I can’t help but wonder…if I told her would she have taken my word for it, dumped the loser and found herself someone deserving of her time and her amazing personality or would she have confronted him with my word against his, would he have worked his charm, convinced her I was just jealous of what they had, come up with a version where I had pulled a move on him and therefore in one swift motion severed a friendship and brought her closer to him, her hero. There is no way of telling now, every once in a while when she declares her fiancé's faithful and heroic nature I feel a stab of guilt and I try to brush it off, it’s unlikely that I will ever completely be rid of it but I’ve let it be, I chose to live with it rather than destroy a lifelong friendship, I can only hope that he doesn't mess with her health in any way and that she may continue to live in blissful oblivion, life is cruel as it is, no one needs the knife getting twisted.

my window…

Every now and then, when you’ve lost track of the general direction in you’re life, something gives that throws you right back on that long road with it’s speed bumps and occasional,frequent rough and dusty murram patches.







As a younger girl (I’m still pretty young in my books), I put all my frustrations, drab moments, sad times, good times, hopes and aspirations on paper. The beauty of documentation is you get to analyse your temperament just by flipping through the worn out, browning pages of memories. It takes you back on a journey we had completely let go of, not by choice but by getting on life’s swift current and not trying hard enough to tread on the spot and let the memories take over just for awhile, to help you see how far you’ve come, and judge how much  farther we need to go.



My writing through the years portrays a girl, transforming into a woman with each stroke of her pen, fighting the adversaries that threaten to break her, working not to let what goes on around her imprint a life-long impression unless it matters, learning what matters and what she could do without, getting stuck and letting stuff she could have done without define her days and take her to dark lonely corners where she cried and no one heard, no one noticed her shaking shoulders and no one stopped to see her glistening cheeks where the weak beam of light hit her profile and no one cared to see her trembling lip.


I don’t know about other writers or if other writers are plagued with the same problem, for the longest time, I struggled to find a font that defined me, a font that worked with my words and made them feel more personal, as if I was writing from my own pen; it takes quite a bit of searching through the thousands (are they thousands? well maybe hundreds) of fonts provided to find one that works for you. I found Comic Sans MS and Segoe Script do my writing justice, the former for all my writing and the latter for my letter writing, God knows there are never enough letters to write. I’d type my work on a word document and copy paste it to my blog until I discovered windows live writer that synchs me directly to my blog with all the perks of word, except the line spacing but with a much more special feel to it.


My writing to date still portrays a young, impressionable woman who could do better than average, who should never settle for what she could do better without and who struggles to keep her spine straight as an arrow strained against a bow, sometimes letting the exhaustion take over with the hope that someone, anyone breaks her fall. Whose tired eyes still have glimpses of life, impulsiveness and days of laughter.


I write because it gives me a window to look out of and feel my backbone relax as I let go and truly become me, it’s the only time I am myself, wholly.

Blankets and Wine

They come bearing baskets containing wine and cheese. They come rom South b, Lavington, Langata, Spring Valley, Donholm, Imara Daima, Karen, South C, Loresho. And yes, they come from the greatest incubator of the middle-class, Kileleshwa.


They come in fancy cars with gleaming rims and shimmering sound systems. They come in their linens, shorts, flowing dresses and huge sunglasses (if everyone at this do all looked up at a go, and an aerial picture was taken, it would look like an alien convention, what with the saucer-sized sunglasses). They all have great teeth, and they show them when they smile. And everyone at B&W smiles.


But B&W is ideally a class convention where all the middle class go to make a statement about their affluence, where they go to seek validation in numbers. And there is no greater – or more socially significant group – like the middle- class because they are loud. Loud in their dressing, loud in the cars that they drive, loud in the women they date and the clubs they go to. They are even loud in their love making because they like to make a statement. A middle-class woman can sit at Arte café, silently having her latte, head buried in her book and I will feel her loudness across the room. There are no subtleties in the middle-class, life has to be eaten with a smack!


And at Blankets and Wine – perhaps the most successful middle-class shindig of all time – they come bearing props; they come abiding hats and P Diddy like walking sticks. Some brazen ones push the boat out and come with their three month old babies, who hang – like bovine steak – from their fancy 12thousand bob baby carriers. but those without pretty babies to parade come with shampooed poodles that smell better than my neighbour Tony. Lately there has been the guys who lug along with their iPads because there are emails that just can’t wait!






And so they come and sip their drinks in plastic cups and sway to the afro fusionists up on stage because, and wait or it…they feel aro fusion.


Smoke and mirrors; that’s what Nairobi is. If you hate it so much, move to Makueni. Or write about it.


                           

                          Anonymous Source

Where is my Happy?

No one really comes through like you’re friends when you’re having a tough time in any aspect of you’re life, today chilling with just girls and talking and taking photos saved me from a potentially frustratingly sad day.

I’ll post some of the photos we took soon as they’re edited and made to make us look flawless and downright gorgeous; they’re so beautiful they’re worth sharing with the world, I was happy and laughing for the first time in a while. I woke up and said today i will be happy; it worked way better than I thought it would. Two straight happy days in a row, family and friends. In the end those are who you fall back on, everyone deserves those.

By now I’ve realised that left to my own devises I can turn suicidal, no matter the time of the month; my swings don’t really understand the importance of pattern and regularity, they just up and kick in whenever they damn well please, soo inconsiderate!! I need to be constantly around people favourable to my funny bone, classmates and lecturers don’t help though sometimes any contact is better than none. Weird how I can’t live with people but I can’t live without them either…

I have come to the realization that love’s downs are too painful to take on your own, not pushing away people close to you might will save your sanity.

As I search for greater personal fulfilment and happiness, I’ve learnt several things. One as Carol Mandi wrote, it is not easy to find happiness in ourselves, and it is not possible to find it elsewhere. Every time I make another person the source of my happiness, as I so often naturally do, I get miserable because while they will certainly add to my levels of happiness, they are not the entire source of it.

I tend to make the men in my life the source of my happy, it unconscious and completely unintentional but I do hence my constant ups and downs and downs. My happy flies out the window for quite the distance and returns only periodically to check up.

So when I search myself, where do I find my happy? Turns out its just the  simple things like hanging with friends on a Sunday afternoon, shopping, a good book in the evening, a long, hot shower after a long day, writing and capturing beautiful moments with  timeless photos.

This month I aim to work on me, stop caring too much about other people and work at fixing myself, learn to love me first before dishing out every ounce of my energies to another person. I’ll start with this week and work towards developing a more self-satisfied and fulfilled woman, that way I will be a better family member, friend and lover.

It is said that a little of what you fancy every day does you good.

Cute Family Members, know them all!

This weather needs to cheer up man!

Yesterday I went to a family function to welcome my cousin back for his short holiday here after 8 years of being in the States without a visit. It was a little weird at first coz it had been so long, but my family is kinda huge and it’s hard to feel left out and eventually, our sunny nature enveloped him in. As these things go, both sides of his family were there, though we dominated with our huge numbers and loud demeanour. I couldn’t help but notice a very cute guy seated on the other side of the family; just my type, tall, not too skinny, light complexion and cute. I introduced myself just to make sure he sounded right and he did and I was like damn!! No way this delicious piece of ass is my relative no way! But he is, sigh!

I kept my distance but we exchanged a couple of glances in each other’s direction. You know if yesterday never happened and I met this guy somewhere else, a club or any other social gathering I’d have flirted with him and it looks like he’d have flirted back and who knows where it would have gone from there?

How much later would we have found out we were related? A year later? Engagement time later? And then we’d have been left damaged for ever! There are some things even therapy doesn’t solve, only a change of identity and location would have eventually healed us, he’d go to Yugoslavia and I move to Poland, change our hair and eye colors, names and join other families shit.

Patches of Blue

It’s 3.30pm Friday afternoon, I’ve spent my whole day in bed, weird how I still feel exhausted and really not in the mood to leave here without an incentive, an alcohol-based incentive.

One of the reasons I’ve been so sad is because I’m hormonal, plus the weather, it sucks ass. Right after I force Nyambura to take me bikini shopping because there was finally some promise of sunshine...life..




That and the man I have been falling in love with is at a point where being a dick and taking me for granted is all he has to offer for my efforts; I’m being punished for all the shit he’s going through as if I contributed to even one of his problems, jeez! Just trying to be there for him and he’s being such a douche, don’t even know what I do to deserve this shit or if it’s even worth it. Is it?


Why can’t I catch a break?! Tonight I’ll turn to alcohol to drown all my sad days and sleepless nights, don’t care how I will deal with tomorrow; let tomorrow worry about itself, isn’t there a verse like that somewhere in the Bible?


I've been watching the new Justin T. movie; Friends with benefits a lot lately, 7-10 times in the past two weeks, it’s one of those movies that helps you escape to a better place, a happier place full of humour and love; and even when Dylan and Jamie have a falling out; he feels incomplete and miserable and keeps trying to call her and she’s a wreck but it doesn’t take long before he realises he’s in love with his best friend or does it? The movie doesn’t say, but it looks like a week, it could be longer, problem with me is that, I can’t watch his phone ring and not pick up, and when he doesn’t talk to me, I want to cry and every time he says he can’t hook up with me, I feel crushed. Is there something wrong with me?


I guess I just like him, but maybe even I should be a bit proud and have a life. Is it my fault that I want to be adored, that I believe in prince charming and happy endings and true love. Maybe I’m damaged..


Will I ever meet my prince? I really don’t want to settle for less, I find Mc Wolfenstein adorable but is that everything? He’s a wolf and I’m a vampire, how can the two possibly work?






All these takes me back to Kwazi, maybe he’s my choice of reference because I’ve never really been with somebody that long before and after, it’s been 4 official months with Mc W, that’s half the time I was with Kwazi; at some point in our really messed up relationship, he went cold, like Mc W is doing right now, became an ass and I was the one trying to be there for him with no appreciation, think I eventually got tired and he stopped acting like I’d always be there, or something…don’t quite remember the details but it worked out and in the end he couldn’t live without me, it was a little too late by that time, too much shit in too short a period, I knew I deserved better, problem is, what is better? Is Mc W that? Is my prince waiting for the right time to come sweep me off my feet or will I find him at the bottom of a Mojito glass?


All the sadness aside, now that we are friends with no benefits, we spend more time talking about stuff we never really used to talk about, maybe the sexual energy has been channelled into other things but it’s not all bad, when he’s not being an ass we talk and laugh and actually have a great time.


I’m getting a tattoo, it’s about time I got no. 2, maybe at the base of my neck..

SHIIEEEET

.Most people’s general first impressions of me, heavily depend on my mood on that particular day; they could get happy me and think I’m the coolest person to chill with and could definitely become a new friend. 


They could get me on a bad day when  I’m bitchy and sarcastic and the effort of saying hi shows on my face, if the recipient is a girl they usually don’t bother though I try really hard not to show it to girls, but dudes being the creatures that they are still proceed to attempt to converse, during which time I switch to full bitch mode and ensure they never want to bother again, which is fine coz I don’t want to be bothered.


So today I’m in that kind of bitchy, sarcastic mood, I was fine through the day, it just hit me, a wave of….I’m not sure what emotion I can attach to myself to. It could be as a result of everything going on in my life right now or it could be everything on top of all my pent up  issues. I’m starting to think that writing isn’t as therapeutic as everyone says it is, if it was, I’d be a very happy person right now; ecstatic and always optimistic. 


I’m not, don’t even remember the last time I was genuinely happy; it’s gotten worse lately and I’m not sure I know why, all I know is that I’m still angry at a lot of things that have happened in the past; I’m angry at all those times I have given myself, almost all of myself for the happiness of someone else and what do I get in return?


All my acts of kindness trashed, taken for granted, stamped on, torn apart and thrown back at me. When I like someone I give my all, naturally, I can’t help myself but I at least expect to be treated in the same way or maybe just appreciated or maybe if for once someone made me their all, the centre of their world; just once…maybe then I’d feel like I deserve some things. 


Maybe its me, maybe I do something wrong or maybe I’m just bad in bed…it’s not like I can go back and ask them so I guess we’ll never find out.
Going through a pretty rough time, might explain my recent meltdown, not to mention my recently magnified daddy issues…