The Shame That Is..

Oh the shame… so much shame…

Am I the only one who chickens out on a project immediately the idea is conceptualised?

It’s been two years since my last post here and i am absolutely mortified. Mostly for the fact that i find it hard to keep up with myself.

I have learnt that my age does not allow me to be put together. Yes, most of my social media feeds are filled with friends getting married, engaged, going on fancy vacations and popping out children like there’s a special offer, that does not necessarily mean they have it all figured out.

Or does it?

Either way, the pressure (often from within) is real. I constantly find myself in existential crises battling between who i think i am, who i actually am, who they think i am and who they think i should be -They- being the society. And in a world full of false advertising and misrepresentation, you have to understand that this is not your regular cup of tea.

In the hope of “making it”, we try dip our feet in different pools at the same time, not to test the water but rather go for a swim and end up falling on our arses because, well, it’s impossible.

If I (most of us) had a dollar for ideas i’ve come up with i’d probably be taking an early retirement. What’s worse is if i had a dollar for every idea i have failed to see through, i’d still retire early.

I don’t know if this goes for everyone, but in the society we live in, that shit isn’t easy. Our brains are so scattered such that between waking up at 5am, spending all day at an office till around 8pm, getting home at 10pm with your physical and mental well being barely intact, it’s hard to actualise those great ideas we come up with.

This could be argued out with “Well what do you do on weekends?” Ummm… trying to put the rest of my life in order, that’s what. Maybe it’s just me but on the weekends i’m not at the office, i’m busy trying to fix up my house, meet friends and family and trying a hand at my social skills. It’s either that or there’s nothing different between me and some robot.

Something else i’ve realised is we drink a lot. For those of us who do. Not that we want to, but because that’s where -we think- life’s unending demands are pushing us. That’s the only place we assume can make us happy because life seems all doom and gloom. That’s the place that allows us to lie to ourselves that we aren’t depressed and on the verge of breaking down. “That oh so happy place.”

At the bottom of a bottle is where most people find solace having lost most of their friends due to their overly demanding schedules. And all this while, with all the social media, we aren’t allowed to express exactly how we feel because its not in line with what everyone on the feed deems as “having made it.” Even if we do, most people are more concerned with the likes they get and miss all the signs of a struggling individual/society.

But I digress.

My biggest question for all of you who seem to have it all figured out. How do you do it? How do you achieve your ambitions and dreams in a society where there seems to be no time? Do I have to quit my job to fully indulge myself in my goals? What if this doesn’t work? How do I untrap myself from this routine i currently have going on?

I don’t have any of these answers but i do hope that we all find ourselves because at the end of the day,

Aren’t we all just trying to make it?

“Maybe the journey isn’t so much about becoming anything. Maybe it’s about unbecoming everything that isn’t really you, so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.” ~somewhere on the interweb.

Now that I’m Older

“When I was younger i watched my daddy cry and curse at the wind, He broke his own heart and i watched as he tried to re-assemble it… “ Paramore- Only Exception.

The title suggests a sense of self realization that comes with each and every stage of our life journeys. The song by Paramore (although a love song) has a few lyrics that touch base when it comes  to some of my self realizations so far.

See I have been at that place in the beginning. Not necessarily seeing my daddy cry but i could use that as a metaphor. As much as i would hate to admit it I know that my father has taken the blame for a lot of the misgivings that have braced our family. Much as i know he can never speak of it or so much as show it, I understand now that his heart weeps with sorrow day after day seeking to understand where he went wrong or choices he would have made differently that have led up to this moment in time.

I only recently started talking to him again and i can only imagine what the poor guy has been going through, a singular pea in a pod unable to make any meaningful connection with his family and all this attributed to communication as the greatest barrier of all. As a child, it is hard to understand what goes on in a family, hard to grasp the concept of love especially when your parents are introverts or better yet they don’t believe in the expression of love through their words or any other forms. (Which is highly likely the case in most African households).

“My momma swore that she would never let herself forget, and that was the day that i promised i’d never sing of love cause it does not exist…”

Most of my friends can attest to the fact that I am deeply distressed by commitment, something that happens to the best of us especially if you have experienced some sort of past emotional hurt.

Growing up, I remember seeing my mother cry and thinking “What did he do this time?” Another reason for my profound aggression towards my father. I never could understand how two people could claim to be in love when it was fights here and there and constant disagreement on just about everything. But still they stayed together, no matter what it was that had them scuffling they stuck it out. (When marriage vows mattered-am I right?)

“I’ve always lived like this keeping it comfortable-distance, and up until now i have sworn to myself that i’m content with loneliness because none of it is ever worth the risk “

I do, I really do. I have a hard time especially with commitment. I always feel like the world is out to get me and not in a good way. I hate fights and confrontations so instead i just quietly shut you out. Probably explains why most of my female friends…. well lets just say there aren’t as many- a handful maybe (and thats that BFF stuff). I’m a good listener but i have conformed to a way of living that does not allow me to show any emotion when it counts. I’m not one to gawk at all the lovey dovey stuff, or the babies or sweet things happening around me and when I do it its the most insincere i feel.

The worst of all is when people(guys) tell me they like me, seconds into the first meet. All I normally think is “Dude, what the hell? what exactly do you like? do you think i’m dumb? Asshole. I know what you want and its not gonna happen? ( the whole shabam!) Don’t even get me started on the “I Love you’s”. Those are the worst.

So now i am left pondering on whether all this while, i have been conditioning myself  or maybe I am just too afraid to come to terms with the fact that all these things happen and i just need to start accepting and embracing it.

Like i mentioned earlier though, its all a matter of self realization and until i get to that point of contentment well lets just say the change will be slow and gradual.

#EverythingAtItsPace

now-that-im-older

NOT SO SWEET SIREN

fire-truck

 

Good morning everyone, a cold one in Nairobi. Its Friday and I’m sure everyone is excited that the weekend is here. I know I am.

That’s besides the point, I was just thinking, If the sirens in Greek mythology lured sailors to rocks with there immaculate voices why do modern day Firetruck, ambulance, and police car sirens sound so gadawful? How did it go from impeccable to utterly distasteful over time? And is there some sort of undertone to the description of women? I’ll leave those there, seems like an awesome debate among intellectual stoners.

At the age of 10, I was terrified of ambulances probably because a part of me was almost certain that whoever was being taken to hospital was already gone. Problem is that the school I went to at that time was situated right at the edge of the of the city’s medical hub. Lets just say, a class without ambulance sirens just dint feel right. Still i was horrified; while my classmates enjoyed their breaks and play times, I always sat at the corner of the field recalling the number of sirens I’d had during class and thinking of how many people the world had lost that day. I know, I was a peculiar one and most of my friends know that I still am. Anyway, I asked my teacher once why so many people had to die everyday and at first she was shocked by my odd inquiry but later on she explained to me that not all people whisked away by ambulances died. To ease my concern she told me to chant out 3 Hail Mary’s every time I heard an ambulance which by know you know was very tasky with my school being where it was and all. This turned out to be the most helpful advice ever because it rid me of my depressing thoughts of death. Every time I chanted the prayer that little, concerned part of me was uplifted because in a way I knew I had helped save whoever was in the ambulance. I still perform this ritual up to date.

Which brings me to present day. I’m leaving work yesterday, reading through the last pages of my literary endeavor and there it is, a firetruck, behind our car, stuck in traffic-its sirens ever so deafening. As my fear for whatever catastrophe it is that has occurred in God knows where begins to trickle in, I say my Hail Marys. The quick chant calms me and I settle back into reading mode; at least I try. The thing about the ambulances near my childhood school is that the sirens would as quickly as they erupted, fade. Yesterday I had the pleasure of sitting by the firetruck’s siren for nearly half an hour and I hated every second of it. Why would an emergency vehicle be stuck in traffic you ask? Well it beats me but i guess that’s Kenya for you.

Poor accessibility is among many of the challenges faced by Kenya’s Fire Response, in the city this is highly attributed to by traffic jam and bad attitude from drivers. I mean, would it kill you to move aside and let the firetruck reach its destination. It actually wouldn’t but I bet it would cost someone, rather a few someones, their lives.

I still have no clue what the emergency was but i sure as hell hope my prayers went out and whatever it was, no one got hurt.

Just thought I’d mention it

 

Hey there everyone, Its a cold Monday afternoon and i feel sick to my stomach; not the literal kind of sick. I feel sick because i’m back behind the desk freezing out of my mind because its cold when its not really supposed to be and sick because I’m back here(not that i hate it; I love love love my internship).

Here’s why i’m a lucky intern. Last week i had the chance to witness one of the 8 wonders of the world and it was absolutely glorious. I had the chance to visit the Mara watching the wildebeest migration and you have to personally see it; watch nature peaking right before your eyes for you to understand why at this moment, behind my desk, I feel sick.

I have to admit it all happened so fast (I only went for a day) but it was one of the best days of my life so far. There was the long drive with beautiful scenery all around, there was the amazing camp, there was the dancing with the native Maasai folk around a camp fire even the hyenas laughing right outside my tent as i tried to fall asleep. It was all just pure bliss.

INCONSIDERABLE TOAD (guy 70*x-2)

toad

I cant keep apologizing for my inconsistency with my writing… I’m not saying that i love it but it happens so deal. And no (not even the slightest hint of attitude there).

So many guys, so many repulsive fellows I have had the pleasure of meeting since I first wrote the guy 70*X piece. Out of the whole lot of them the worst are the inconsiderable toads. P.S often the prettiest ones. One of my friends once told me i had to kiss a couple of toads before finding the ever so “illusive ONE”. But no more. I really can’t take anymore.

Its like theres just no more good guys out there. Not that I’m looking but seriously. Call me blond and everything but chivalry is so hard to come buy these days. And I speak with regard to Kenyan men. Most of you act like (for lack of a better description), like you were dropped on your heads as infants. Your absence of understanding for the female needs is just utter disgrace. You will claim all the love in the world for your mothers and treat other women in your lives like play toys, something you can discard when you get a new one. You can revisit your old toy and maybe get a few runs off of it and abandon it as soon as your high is over.

I’d say this analogy only applies to the young men, but I have seen it with the older generation too. Men hitting their wives, men going out of their way to sleep outside their marital home just to break their wives. Sometimes i feel like maybe, just maybe, Its a manly instinct.Something that you are all drawn to, grasping at short straws trying to exert dominance in a world where women are doing everything men can and doing it even better.

Maybe the toad-like behavior is a result of poor-self esteem. I’m just trying to be objective here even though i know what most of these men do is inexcusable. And strangely enough, we, educated empowered, strong beyond our imagination, women, let them. We allow them to step on us, ruin us so that we feel they are the only ones remorseful enough to accept our tortured souls.

How then do we save ourselves from this endless torment?

“Without feelings of respect, what is there to distinguish a man from a beast?” Confucius.

MISS-PROFILE

miss-profile

Hello World,

Its me….

i was wondering if after all these months you’d like to read….

Okay okay, the goofing around ends there. I’m having a hell of a beginning to 2016; all things considered. School is finally done and i got that internship I wanted so badly last year and it feels like my life is finally getting in order. Can I get an Amen…..

Though the year seems to be going smoothly, there’s still those few things i just can’t shake off. In Kenya its mostly the same old; lots of corrupt leaders, children having to learn while squatting or sitting on rocks because some idiot somewhere forgot they existed which is probably code for i used all that money to live a lavish life while you suffer.

“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars-Kahlil Gibran” 

Now that these greedy pigs have been put in the spotlight, I pray that these children not only get strong souls and character but also get classrooms and desks because they deserve it. As for the shameless people causing such despair and inhumanity for their own selfish gain…. well… chances are they’ll get out barely bruised; because that is the kind of country I live in.

Speaking of inhumanity, have you ever been wrongfully profiled? Well i know that there’s a lot of racial profiling in the states which is absolutely preposterous but i never thought i’d see it happen in Kenya; only this time it was more sexual profiling, at least that’s what I’m going to call it for now.

So its a cloudy Saturday afternoon, i spent the morning at work and rather than go back home, i’m looking to kill time before my besties and I head out for one of our friend’s birthday party. I set a date in town with one of my babies (i call her baby because she’s like my younger sister and a very good friend). We meet up and i already know where i want to go get masala fries i have been craving for forever.

We get to this place -I Club (used to be Tacos) and the doorman stops us at the entrance. The joint is a Bar and Restaurant so as much as it is still daytime, my first assumption is that this bloke wants to see some ID. As i reach for my wallet he gives me this disdained look and shrugs,”that’s not it… you just aren’t allowed inside”. At that moment all my head can sum up is, ” but… masala fries…”. I gather my thought quickly and try figuring out what the problem is. I mean why would i not be allowed entrance into this average place with its amazing masala fries? The doorman mumbles some stuff about us checking the club out on google and then we’ll figure out why he couldn’t let us in.

luckily i hate drama so i just walk away politely to the next best place. As i sit across from my friend i cant help but wonder why… why i would be denied entrance. It suddenly dawns on me that as we were leaving I Club a Queer looking fellow prances into the club ‘No Questions Asked’. Rumor has it Tacos was closed because of its huge gay following. In my mind I’m thinking did they change the place to a strictly gay club when they re-branded. My friend finally snaps me out of  my bewilderment and tells me that we were stopped because we were together.

My thoughts clear up and i see how that could actually be true. My friend is the real definition of a tomboy and me… well lets just say i was looking real nice in my short denim dress. So yes, it could have been that the idiot at the door mistook us for a lesbian couple. She then continues confessing to me how this is not the first time she is encountering such animosity.  This all just makes me mad. Cant two friends just go out and have lunch or a drink, regardless of whether they are gay or straight. Its not like homosexuals eat or drink different things that aren’t catered for by the clubs and restaurants.

I should be allowed to eat and drink wherever i please and if not maybe next time hang a sign upfront that states in bold ” NO HOMOSEXUAL LOOKING-LIKE PEOPLE ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT!”

MY SWEET AND SOUR CHEESE

cheese

 

Hello again world.

It has honestly been a while. Here’s what’s been going on; or at least a fraction of it. I’m still struggling with finishing school. That degree seems like its so close to a point that I can smell it but its so far away. I haven’t given up though…. “Aluta Continua” they said. Besides that, I might have met and lost the love of my life… only God knows. Haha… I have to admit, that one year of a fling was the closest thing I’ve come to a relationship and it changed me in ways I can’t even comprehend. See prior to this encounter, I wasn’t the greatest advocate for love. Actually scratch that, I was never an advocate for it at all. As cliché as this might sound, he opened up my heart and mind and I will always be grateful for that.  Well, it had been a long time coming.

Other things that have happened would be the usual: constant war with the folks because my life seems to lack bearing at the moment. This is probably the worst part of my life currently but being the ever so optimist, I can feel some change coming soon. Those wheels are turning and there’s no stopping it. For those who know my current relationship with my parents, it sucks so no, I’m not on drugs.

Besides the weekly or is it daily altercation with my parents, there’s the all so gruesome job search that has me running in and out off offices like a lunatic. There’s the waiting that comes after, anxiously waiting by the phone, fingers crossed, hoping and praying for a miracle. I would do just about anything to get a job and get my parents off my back. Don’t get it twisted though; I don’t mean anything in the literal sense… I’m sure some if not most of you catch my drift, yes?

How could I forget the occasional blast from my past trying to fit into men’s shoes but not quite having gotten there yet. Its all too sad and at the same time unbelievably hilarious, I mean no insult to these fellows, I just feel a certain sense of maturity that wouldn’t allow to send any more oogley eyes your way.  But even this new found sense of maturity and womanhood I often find my inner child clawing at the cages, screaming for freedom. (I mean, I’m not done with my degree yet, haven’t gotten a job yet, still living with and off of my parents) all this just pisses me off. As optimistic as I pride myself in being, theres times when I resent myself and the thought of a miracle seems too aloof.

Which brings me to my new hobby; I’ve recently been indulging in literature, one, because my younger nephew challenged me to and two, because I lost my phone . Yes I’ve been rocking a lovely black kabambe for a while. Its too easy to get bored. I’m not complaining though. She serves me well. Only problem is every time I’m thinking I need to take a selfie, all I can do is hold the flashlight against my face for a split second. I kid you not… Its an acquired skill.  Back to the story, so I’m a reader. Let’s say in two months I’ve read four books and yes I’m showing off. That’s cause I’m loving it so much.

As my title suggests, my most recent intellectual venture was “Who Moved My Cheese?” As I brag, for those who’ve had a read, I know its an hour’s read. Don’t judge me, its still my fourth book. I like it because it’s a simple beautiful book and I’ve learnt a lot from it in such a short time. I admit, its a complete twist on my perception. In a nutshell, all the above mentioned situations in my life are just blocks of cheese, some sweet, some sour and others both sweet and sour. These cheese blocks are never constant. They keep moving and though scary, it is inevitable. It is change and it is super scary… at least for me it is. I’ve been a Haw for most of my life, knowingly stuck at this one point because I am too afraid of the future and the thought of the unknown; at least it was. Now I just to laugh at my mistakes and all my fears, create a mental image of everything I want and move away from the cheeseless station out into the maze that is life. I mean… what’s the worst that could happen? Like I said, I’m feeling super positive about life. There’s a lot of change heading my way and I intend to embrace it all in stride. Its just a sensation of pure bliss.

#Cheese

MISUNDERSTOOD

Hey there….

For weeks I have been trying to think about what to say. All the content was there, I just couldn’t figure out the proper delivery. They call it writers block…. I think. So enough with the petty excuses I have just been a tad bit uncertain of myself. You know; when all the insecurities start to creep in and all you can think of is, ‘Ooooh My gaaaaad…. She wasn’t ready’ {insert Kevin Hart Voice}.

So here’s the deal….

There once was a young girl, very energetic, full of life and with the most beautiful smile ever. She loved life and everything about it. In her head nothing could ever go wrong. Success was her ultimate goal and pleasing her parents was the only thing she had in mind. In everyone else’s mind; she had a bright future ahead of her. (but don’t we all…?)

Anyway… Skip a few years of joy with rose coloured glasses on her eyes and  meet her today. A 180 degree turn of events. There’s nothing she’d want more than to piss her parents off. She has no will for life and you can hear the loud whispers from family and friends talking about, “What ever happened to that sweet girl we thought had a bright future”; “what happened to that smile that made everyone happy?” “Why doesn’t she have a job yet?” “She’s become so rude”. “I don’t know what I would do if I were her parents”….

See as discouraging as all this would be, the now young adult still has hope. (As she rightfully should)

On this long long road (I’m talking about life btw) it is so easy to be misunderstood especially by the people closest to you. It is so easy to feel like a shadow at midday… invisible. The thing we need to understand is that we have such different paces and just because mine is slower or faster than yours doesn’t mean you should victimize me for it.

With all that…my new slogan is #SayNoToNormal

Being ordinary is so overrated anyway.

GUY 70*X

Good morning world….

My most sincere apologies; it has been a while since i posted something, which is funny because there has been so much happening around me that caught my attention. I’m just going to blame it all on time. I’m just going to go on a whim here and assume this is where i left off.

So i was at this amazing event; WLL (World’s Loudest Library) about a month ago. WLL is only a gig for you if you are an avid reader. So for those who appreciate literature accompanied with good music and intellectual conversations; show up at Creatives Garage every first Saturday of the month.

Back to GUY 70*X. As we were winding up after a successful run of WLL a few Saturdays ago I was able to engage in some rich conversations with some of the people in attendance. The one that struck me most was the one where i learnt about GUY 70*X. This one guy started off all sweet and charming throwing me compliments like they were on offer. I received the compliments in the most polite way i could because the guy…how do i put it? Well he dint seem to tickle my fancy at all. I don’t mean to be rude; but he was probably prettier on the inside.

This guy had the notion that a girl/ lady will meet at least 7 guys who will hit on her by the end of the night. The girl will go out on the rave at least 10 times a year. Note that these are not actualities. The numbers vary for different girls; that’s probably because of the large array of variables. That’s really besides the point. Take the 70 guys a year the girl meets each year and multiply them with the number of years the girl has been going out and you get your numbers.

I applaud this guy’s effort. He thought he had his cards all figured out. His strategy was just sad but the fact that he used it on me meant that he thought it would actually work. The key was to make me feel the best i could by throwing all sorts of compliments. This was then carefully followed by downplaying himself completely. Comments like, ” An ugly guy like me would never get a chance with someone as beautiful as you.” This, I believe was meant to make me feel sorry for him and throw him bone. I just thought it was really sad. Turns out; out of the 7 guys you meet in a month, there has to be that one extremely weird one who tries anything with the hope that the girl will be too high and in an attempt to console the guy, the barely sober girl gives him a through pass. Maybe the reason why this did not work on me was because I’d only had one glass of wine.

Since that night I’ve been looking forward to meeting different types of guys and learning their plays. I’m sure I’ll have a proper analysis by the end of the year.

The Blind Widow

Last week was one  those shady weeks for me. You know, those ones where you’ve got so much work to do but not enough time and everything feels like its crumbling all around you and you have no idea how to stop it. Let’s just say it was pretty messed up; at least half of it was.

I had a change of heart as i was riding a bus to town to drop some papers (lets call it tarmacking). It was a short bus ride but it had such an impeccable impact on me. My friend and i came across this blind lady on the bus who at first, i have to admit, i thought was a hoax. This is because immediately the bus took off, the lady got up and started to ask for handouts from the rest of the passengers. She told us that she was a blind widow with children whom she needed to take to school and feed. She continued to tell us, that she had never really had to buy things like clothes because she always found people to help her which she humbly thanked the Lord for. She then proceeded to ask the passengers to help her like others had and that God would bless them for it.

My issue with the blind widow was that it felt like she was exchanging prayers for charity; yes, her prayers were biased on only those who were able to donate something. Another thing that caught my attention was that this lady was very well spoken. She seemed like someone who had walked into a classroom at least more than once. In short, her English was yummy. So what did or did not go wrong?

Maybe nothing went wrong at all. This has to be the path that she chose and she was doing the best she could to her abilities. This widow had the balls to stand up in buses and blatantly ask other people for their hard earned money. She took her disability and turned it around to work in her favor. For me this was a sort of wake up call, i needed to quit whining about what was wrong with my life and start working with what the good Lord gave me.

I know we have been told to appreciate what we have countless times but the point hits home so much better when you experience a real life situation. hahaha…. seeing is believing; all pun intended

.downloadphotograph courtesy of google