On a light touch.

http://nuffy.net/funny-pics/funniest-road-signs.html

http://nuffy.net/funny-pics/funny-bumper-stickers-45-pics.html

I wanna be a Billionaire...

I have always wanted to have a lot of money. In my mind when I look into my future, I have a Range Rover(and a powerful Subaru) in the garage, a sprawling farm house sitting smartly upon acres in Limuru and a booming business in the suburbs. I also have time for the kids, cook supper for the family and attend all my friend's parties on weekends. I am true force to reckon with.

However the older I get, the more I notice flaws in my future. It's hard to run the mansion and run the business and I don't know how I'll make the money and still make the time for everything else. I can't imagine the kind of work I'll have to put in to get to that point where everything is running like a well oiled machine. All the toes I'll have to step on as I make my way to the top. I am slowly realising that the road to success is a very dirty road.

My problem is that I want the success without the dirt. I can deal with the sweat if I put my mind to it but I'm not too sure I want to bribe, beat, kill and plagarise to get to that 4-car garage. The wealthy tend to compromise more than most and I don't think I have the heart.

Now, there's the problem, I have a heart, meaning I have emotions, meaning I am too soft. The people at the top are heartless and cold. They cut their losses without a second glance and scheme and manipulate without consideration. Every move they make is perfectly calculated to fit into the next. When they decide on a course of action, you better have written an iron-clad will if you plan on standing in their way.

If I do ever make it to the top, I'd like to have my friends and family intact. I mean my real, true friends, not the networking type that are here today and rich tomorrow. I guess the personal side of success is the most dangerous balancing act of them all. The billions tend to numb you to pain one causes to their loved ones and blind to the souls of those you start to think are less than you. I don't want to wake up one morning and find I have no one to leave my legacy to and those who are there would rather live in poverty than come home to me.

I want to be a billionaire but not that freaking badly. I still want to buy all the things I never had but I would like people to share it with so that when I close my eyes, it's our names I see in splashing lights and not just mine. I still want to be on the cover of Forbes magazine but I don't want to be standing next to Oprah and the Queen, I want to be standing next to you. Because there's no point to the millions if after all is said and done, the people who really matter including myself, end up a miserable mess.

What keeps me up at night.

I used to be able to sleep like a log not too long ago. Just hit the pillow and drift off with not a care in the world. Sometimes I still do but nowadays its just sometimes. Somewhere in the course of my life i discovered I'm not just a warrior, I'm a chronic "worrier".

The moment I discovered that is the moment I started sleeping like a nervous calf. If my brother is out, I'll spend my night twiddling my fingers. If a friend doesn't reply an urgent text, I pace like a caged lion. That is why I get so upset when a response isn't almost immediate. If things don't go as plan, I sweat like the Zambezi.

So nowadays, I stay up nights staring at CNN and worrying about tomorrow and my friends and my family. I'm quite particular and specific about how things are done and more often than not, if things don't roll as close to the plan as possible, I either worry or become a highly irritable female. Doesn't help that I'm more stubborn than a mule on heat but those are the things that keep me looking at my phone, switching my computer on and off, making tea and pouring it out.

Most of the time, the people I worry don't know I worry and pace and spend nights killing and reviving and then killing them again for taking me through some of these things. But then I have also done my fair share of stupid stuff that has made people close to me pace around and sit by the door and stay up at night. Most of them I don't even realise. And if I have never said it and you are one of those people, I am sincerely sorry.

That's what keeps me up at night. For some people it's money or work or education. For me, it's people. I keep thinking if something should happened, I may just be unable to cope. So take care of yourselves. At the very least, so that I can have a couple of nights of good night sleep.

Naenda Kanaani.........................

I heard King'ang'i singing that song today morning in the mat.

Naenda Kanaani,
Naenda Kanaani,
Naenda Kanaani,
Misiri sirudi tena.

I haven't heard that song in the longest time. But it got me thinking: we all have our Canaans and in the same breath, we also have our Egypts. Funny enough, no matter how bad Egypt was, it is our comfort zone. That bad place with its hard work and inhumane treatment was what was familiar.

A bad job, an insecure neighbourhood, a draining relationship, a bad friendship, a career that's going no where, a car that never co-operates. Bad as they are, when life becomes rough in Canaan, they are the first place you will run to. Egypt has its lure.No doubt. The comfort of knowing what tomorrow holds and the fact that you think you finally have what it takes to deal with all the bad-ness. You have a million reasons and excuses why Egypt is "not such a bad place". Isn't that what we always say?

But the truth will always be the truth. Your Egypt will be the death of you. It will drain you, mock you, starve you, whip you and after you're gone, it'll still be there to take out its horror on someone else. It is exciting the first time you decide to walk away. You pack your bags, you book the ticket and you stare out the window with tears and anticipation.

But then we walk out into the sunshine and the grass needs to be watered and mulched in Canaan and you start wondering, where you'll get your next job, if you'll afford your new mortgage, if you will ever get a good spouse, if you are ready for a career change or if you can afford to maintain your lifestyle. The answer that was a strong YES when you made that big leap of leap becomes a weak maybe.

The amount of work needed in the new course of your life is just as much as the one you left in the old one if not more. The only difference is that the new course is primarily your own. It belongs to no one else. So the size of your Canaan is highly dependant on you and the work you are willing to put in and the sacrifices you are willing to make to achieve your ultimate goal. It will be hard at first but ultimately, it is so much better than what you left behind. Egypt wasn't great to begin with so when you shut that door behind you, make a decision not to look back because sadly, the grass will look greener. But you have to remember, you are probably the reason it was green in the first place and if you could make that one green, you can make your own Canaan green too.

The Constitution.

I started reading the draft constitution this weekend. Never thought the day would come when I'd start feeling this patriotic but then again, miracles happen. Like most churches, our church has been very active in the constitution process. Yesterday, our senior pastor finally decided that he will talk about it at the pulpit. Shockingly enough, he didn't berate and belittle the constitution like most church leaders are doing. He did not even try to sway the congregants to vote in one direction or the other. It was simply a talk on facts and conscience. Vote in the direction your conviction and your conscience leads you. Here are a few things that he said yesterday that I thought were quite profound.

1) Read the Constitution:
I know this sounds a little obvious but it is shocking how many people are going into this referendum process without a clue on what the real issues are. Hear say and reading are 2 very different things and it is important to know exactly what is contained in the constitution.

2)Listen to other opinions different from yours:
Being a democratic state, everyone has a right to their own opinion however ridiculous their reasons. But the only way you can make a proper and informed decision is by listening to all faces of the cube. This is not something you can do on your own. Argue, discuss, listen and discern. Not all opinions are right but then again not all opinions are wrong.

3)Seek to understand.
Not all of us are lawyers so some of the jargon seems to be getting lost in translation in our limited understanding. There is a civic education class on national channels every evening at 6.30. It would be nice to tune in occasionally to understand the statutes and limitations of each clause and how it affects each of us.

4)Pray
This is not so obvious to most of us. This is a tough decision for all of us. Whichever direction the wind blows on this one will have a tremendous effect on our future as a nation so maybe it would be prudent for all those who believe to present their decision to God in prayer. If not to get a sign on the direction to vote, at least to clear your conscience that you have made the right decision to the best of your knowledge. Also, that the 2008 debacle will not happen again which is just as big an issue.

5) Finally and more obviously, Vote.
Everything will be in vain if you don't at least show up and vote. Kenyans are a peculiar people no doubt and the biggest reason most are not voting is because the 2008 PEV. Your decision not to vote will not prevent it from happening again. However your vote will give you a right to make your voice heard.

9 days and counting. If there's a bigger decision that will ever be made in this country, I don't know what it would be. Vote Red, Vote Green, Stand on the rooftops and scream or make your decision in silence, make an informed decision and vote wisely.

The train.

It's been a strange month. That's the only way I can describe everything that has happened over the past 30 days or so. Without effort life made a cycle from great to good to bad to downright ridiculous and back again. The Mondays to Thursdays were rolling by in their usual monotonous tones but Friday - Sunday were shifting moods like a menopausal woman.

But I am glad that this month happened. Because of all that has happened, I realised that my life has pretty much been a passenger on a train heading to nowhere. Rolling along in whichever direction the wind blew. It is now time to jump off at the nearest station. I have come to realise that at some point I have to decide what it is I want out of my life in the long run. Where is my destination? Nowhere can't be my ultimate answer.

So now I'm at the train station. I haven't gotten onto the next train yet but I know I'm not getting back on the one that leads to "no hope" and perhaps "no future". I am not scared or excited or even impatient, but I am anticipating some kind of excitement. It is scary getting away from the familiar with no idea what lies ahead. But I have faith that at the very least, it'll be an educational journey. God hasn't given up on me yet so maybe I shouldn't give up on myself.

So I'll quietly sit on the bench and wait patiently wait for my train to come. I will carefully plan my route and anticipate whatever problems. I will map out the stops and the things I will do there. This is a part of my journey I don't want to rush. I can't wait to meet new people, learn new things, shed off the past and move ahead. It feels like I wasted decades chasing the wind but now it's time to chase something solid, tangible. Something I can look back on.

If you want to join me on my bench, maybe help me plan, have a cup of coffee, then you're welcome but if you are not, then have a safe trip and maybe at some point, our stops will cross and for a few minutes we can reminisce about the good old times on the train to nowhere. But I never want to get back on that train. Now with pen and paper in hand and a future in my sight lines, I shall wait for my train.

Just like a sweater!

I have this sweater I wear during the cold season. It is a button down sweater which goes all the way to my knees. It is cream in colour, warm as a cool day in hell, designer label and is about ..........20 years old. Nothing in my wardrobe fits me as badly as this piece of rag. It hangs all over the place, makes me look 10kgs heavier and its length shortens me by about 5 inches.(I am not particularly tall so that's a lot of inches.) But I love this sweater. I don't even wash it lest it doesn't dry and I have to find something without holes to sleep in.It is my ever-present comfort in the cold. I once went for coffee with a pal wearing this sweater and he has never stopped talking about it. (In my defense I was already in the car when he called. There was no way I was going back to change)

We all have friends who are like this sweater. They may be old and tattered but without them you feel lost in space. Like something is forever missing from life. They have terrible habits, kick you when you crash in the same bed, you forever have to carry them kicking and screaming out of the club and usually have a habit of insulting the biggest person they can see. All in all, no one has your back more and no one will stand by you closer. Very much like an old sweater.

We are not embarrassed to know them. At least not always. They are the first people we call when we are in trouble. That is if they are not in trouble with us. These friends have something no one else has. Even if you drift apart for months, the minute you meet, it feels very much like wearing that old sweater after a long day of being uncomfortably suited up.

Good friends, like good sweaters, are like coming home. Suddenly you feel safe and warm and comfortable. Suddenly there's nothing wrong with the world. Suddenly the air is fresh. You really don't need words to describe or explain to anyone why you care so deeply for this old and tattered, ill-fitting friend who is full of holes. All you need to know is that when you see them, you are home!

Don't judge me!

Don't judge me for who I am. Not for the car I drive or the house that I live in. Not for the people I know or the language that we speak.

Don't judge me for the shoes that I wear or the clothes that I buy. Do not judge me for the streets that I walk or the cards that I charge.

You cannot judge me for the floor my office is in or the building that my company operates from. Not even for the parking spot by the lift or the watchman at my gate.

Do not snicker behind my back for the neighbourhood that I live in or the tarmac on my roads. Not even for the colours on my wall or the greenery on my lawn.

I will not feel guilty for leaving food uneaten on my plate or the restaurants that I ate it in. Not for the size of tip that I leave behind nor the table that I reserve by the window.

I will not be blamed for the schools that my kids attend nor the parties they get invited to. Not for the money I spend on the rooms they sleep in or the toys that they play with.


I sympathise with you.I really do. I can only do as much as I can. I can only be who I am. I will not rub it in your face but I will not hide either. I will not judge you so please,please, please, Don't Judge me for who I am.

The world would be a better place if....

If it rained through the night and shone through the day.
If we could work from 10-3 p.m instead of 8-5,
If we all had money and shops opened til late,
If we all got promoted on time,
If all roads were smooth and accidents never happened,
If everyone was considerate of everyone else,
If I could open the taps every day and be assured of water,
If matatu drivers were careful and touts were kind,
If mistakes always taught you a valuable lesson that you could figure out immediately,
If there was no pain in the world,
If "beauty on the inside" was a reality instead of a funny myth,
If we got paid our worth,
If everything always worked out the first time round,
If tea never got cold during long meetings,
If fridges were always filled with your favourite food,
If fuel was cheaper,
If everything was cheaper.

Generally, the world would be a better place,
If Adam and Eve never ate the apple,
And everything went exactly as I want it to.

If I was a fly on the wall

Yesterday, I watched the saddest movie made in recent times. I'm still reeling from the shock and horror that came from that movie. "The stoning of Soraya M." was not only a sad story but an amazingly moving story that opens up about the realities of life in the Middle East. Strangely enough, my "prompter" for my on-line creative writing class asked me to write about what I'd expect to hear if I was a fly on the wall at my own funeral. Honestly, I really don't care what people will say about me at my funeral. Everyone knows that all those things in the eulogy are exaggerated to suit the audience. I want to be a fly on the wall in a friend's room. They know the truth about me. No lies. No exaggerations. This is what I'd like to hear:

"Hey,
Hope you are good wherever you are. I really hope it is better than this place. Matatu madness, political slander and all. Still working on shooting both groups in the knees. The good thoughts must go on. Everyone seems to be coping quite decently with your loss. Life after all has to go on for the living. They really cried you know. Just when you thought they didn't care, they come in droves. Although I suspect some of them were dragged there. You know who I'm talking about. Maybe they thought it would be mean if they didn't show up! If they knew you really didn't care anyway! Hmm!

I'm not doing too great today. Life has been a bit rough since you left. Some days rougher than others. My boss has been quite the class act *B#!$% today (I'm allowed to say that I hope), the javs decided to strike again so you can imagine the frustration of trying to get to work. And they are bad enough when they are fully functional. Thinking of buying a car "as soon as". What did you used to call it: "Just another day in the mines!" Just needed someone to tell that today.

Days seem to be rushing into one another like badly made dough. It's not a bad thing coz that way, I almost forget you are gone. Everyday but Sunday. Sunday drags on for forever. The day when we used to bum and watch Boondocks and talk badly about people with actual responsibility. It's not as funny anymore. I tend to have numerous nigger-moments nowadays. Too many. Speaking of responsibility, love-life? ha ha ha ha! yeah!that's exactly how its going. Comically at best. Here today, gone tomorrow. Too bad you won't be there when I finally get it right. Would have loved you to see the unfortunate chap.

I'm finally going to do all that stuff we talked about. If there' something I'm learning it's that life is too short. I'll finally move out, climb a mountain, quit my job and start a business.All that cool stuff that would have had us swimming in money and living in untold luxury. Wish you were here to see me. I've grown sooo much in the last couple of weeks. Planning and scheming and doing grown up s#!%. Now I wish I was there more. Maybe we would have done all these and more. Same way I wish you were here now. Give me a call sometime.Write, e-mail, send a sign in a dream. Anything to show that you got this. Miss you much.

PS: Bought those shoes you really used to hate. The ones with the fur "interiors". I figured now that there's no one to hate on them, I may as well."

It's the simple things..........

I am a sucker for the little things in life. A smile, a kiss, a hug. Such small things make my world go round. Someone saying "I'm sorry", "Thank you" and "It was really nice to see you." That little moral support that we seem to take for granted everyday, that's what I wake up for in the morning. The thought that someone thought about me...... Funny thing is that the little things are not so simple. By the time someone knows you prefer ice-cream to chocolate or you prefer nyam chom in a kibanda to an expensive meal at the Laico. That is someone who has thought of you and then bothered to try.

A man jogging down our street gave me a boisterous "good morning" once on a ridiculously cold morning as I walked to the bus stop. I smiled that whole day after that. God bless his sweating soul. Anyway, India Arie put it perfectly in her song "Little Things"

As simple as a phone call just to make it known
That you're gonna be a little late
Pure as a kiss on a cheek in a word
That everything will be okay

Call in the mornin' from my little sister
Singin' to me, "Happy Birthday"
In the quest for fortune and fame
Don't forget about the simple things

It is always the little things that make me feel better. Playing my favourite song on radio, a simple phone call when I'm sick, holding my hands when they are cold, a boisterous "good morning" on a cold July morning. Not that I mind, the glitter and gold. It is fabulous and makes me feel way expensive and damn pretty. But the smile, the kiss, the hug.....sometimes it makes all the difference in the world.

In the mirror

She finally sat down on her favourite part of the couch. She put her feet up after a gentle rub. It had been a long day on her feet. Tea in her favourite mug, remote in hand. Finally she had learnt to work the decoder. African Magic number moja. She hadn't heard a free day in the longest time. She had to work last Sunday. Hii kazi haina overtime. When you are called to work, you don't argue, you just get to it.

Finally she could drift off. It was Friday night. The kids were asleep, the security lights were on, the fire was lit. One more thing and this would be how she imagined heaven. She wasn't up by chance really. She had to wait for her boss-lady and her husband to return. But for these few hours when they were out to paint the city red with their high-flying friends, this was her domain. Finally. it was her castle.

The kids had been a nightmare to get to bed but the small brats are easier to get to sleep since they spend the day actively trying to make her miserable. Thank God for small mercies. After the tea was over and the credits had gone up on her program, she slipped her pink slippers on. They were once red you know.She checked on the kids one more time. Just to make sure they hadn't kicked their bedding to the floor kama kawaida. Then she walked up to the boss-lady's bedroom.

She knew exactly where her favourite outfit was. Boss lady never touched her laundry unless she was going to wear it. She knew where everything was, including her knickers. Funny that the outfit was both hers and her boss lady's favourite. She slipped it on carefully so as not to damage it. It held every curve perfectly. She slipped her feet out of her slippers and into ridiculously her heels. How did boss-lady ever walk in these shoes?. I guess the rich live by different rules. Something she had quickly come to learn. The clothes she was wearing were about 3 or 4 times the salary she begged for every month. She had seen the receipt.

Then tentatively she walked to the mirror. She hardly ever saw her face in the mirror. She didn't have one in her room next to the kitchen. She had her mother's bone structure, lovely and strong and strikingly beautiful. She had gotten her mother's hips too and her small waist. Her hands were rougher than they should be and her feet needed a lot of TLC."Soon", she told herself. "Soon, I shall live in a mansion and go to expensive salons". She held her thick hair up. Took one last look and turned away.

What do you see when you look in the mirror? Are you living someone else's life? Do you always wish you were driving your neighbour's car, had your friend's job, lived in your brother's house? Do you walk upstairs, change your clothes and look into the mirror and tell yourself "Soon I shall be someone else?"

Check this out!

I have a fascination with pencil art!

This is probably the coolest thing I've seen in a long time:
http://planetoddity.com/awesome-pencil-drawings-from-students-notebooks/

Check it out.

What would you re-live?

Today is all about re-living your life. A moment in time that you would want to change or re-do.Turning back the hands of time to make things better or just to enjoy the moment again. Have you ever watched "Butterfly Effect"? Best movie ever. For every action, there is a domino effect of reactions. Every deed affect all other subsequent deeds.

But what if you could go back, freeze one moment without affecting any other day? What moment would you want to hold onto forever? And if you could change something you regretted, would you want to go back and change it? Would you do anything differently?

It would be nice to have replays in life like in soccer or rugby. See if the ref. would have made a different call the second time round. But life doesn't have slow motion and pause and replays and analysts drawing red lines across the screen to debate the viability of your actions.

Thinking before you leap may be a logical saying but nothing ever got achieved without taking the risk. So if you really want to re-live that moment or make things right, I truly believe you can at least try to get back a piece of it. The effects may not be the same and the results may be disappointing but maybe, just maybe, your expectations will be exceeding over and beyond your limited scope.

Re-living and re-doing are matters of faith. You are not sure what is going to happen next but you can't just sit back in fear and wallow in the memories of "the good old days". Go back to those good old days and see if they are just as good as you remember.

Although I'm not encouraging you to get stuck in the past because the future could be just as great or even better than what you have left behind. But sometimes, it's good to look back and see what moment you want to hold onto forever. Some memories from your past sometimes give you reason to move ahead. Some people and events that you walked away from sometimes give you a lease on life in a brand new way. So, if you were given the chance, what would you re-live? what would you never let go of?

The front.

I hear I have a blank confused look. Probably it is because I am generally quite a confused person. But most times it is just the mask that I have become comfortable with.

I don't know about the rest of the world, but I front a lot. I don't like people knowing too much about what's going on in the background, lest they judge me too harshly. I wake up in the morning, I look at my problems and then I choose my mask. Something that will tell the world "I am fine. Don't get too close." The confused mask works best.

I hang up my faces in my wardrobe next to my nicest outfits,closest to my highest heels. The worse I feel, the prettier the mask. In fact if I dress too well, something is definitely up. The fronting helps me hold things together. Put things in perspective without having people hovering and wondering (or worse being indifferent).

The masks I wear protect me from the scrutiny of the world but sometimes the cracks can be seen not too far from the surface. Real emotion can be mapped by the streaks running down my face and sometimes I just get too tired to put on the mask on or care about the cracks. I just hope at the point it cracks, there is no one around to see it. That way I can go powder my nose, fill in the cracks and paint on my smile.

A few have successfully gotten under the cracks but the results haven't been nearly as great as expected. Of course unless you have been forced by circumstances to love me unconditionally. I messed up quite badly so today, I'm too tired for my confused mask or my happy mask or any mask for that matter so I guess today I'll just hang out with those who love me unconditionally. Let's just hope they are prepared.

Do you believe?

What would you really truly ask,
If you were to put God to the task?

Clothes for your back,
A roof for your head,
Shoes for you feet,
Or a watch for your hand?

What do you think you would receive,
If from Him you would truly believe?

Machines for your work,
Or work for your machines?
An employee for your business,
Or a business to employ?

If you were given a second, a minute an hour,
What would you ask if you had the power?

A spouse for your life,
A child for your womb,
A partner for your toil,
Or a family for your room?

Do you believe He is keen,
When you sincerely request on your knees?

Healing for your disease,
Amount for your account,
Relief from your sadness,
Continuity for your happiness?

Don't you think we should ashamed,
That it's Him we truly blame,
When He lays himself in front of us,
We doubt He'll provide of what we ask?

Love is a hell of a drug

One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life:

That word is love.

-Sophocles

I hear love is a beautiful thing. At least it was for the few minutes I experienced it. My hair grew, my skin had never glowed brighter, my health was at its best. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the air was fresh and everything was right with the world. Well the birds are still singing, so now I know they weren't breaking vocals just for me (damn birds!)

But that's the problem with love. The very thing that makes it so great is the very same thing that makes it such a pain. I believe that love is not only blind, it's stupid, dumb, deaf and slightly retarded. It makes grown educated people do strange things. Jihad has been declared numerous times in the name of love. Women walk out of great jobs with no other options, men shed tears in public. Activists tie themselves to trees. Love is a powerful thing.

There is absolutely no known logical reason why someone would love one person instead of another. Care about one cause instead of another. Fanatically follow one political party instead of another. The heart wants what the heart wants. Its just that simple. But great hair and beautiful skin aside, this dumb retarded love has other perks.

You have someone to worry about and someone who worries about you. You have someone to come home to at night after a bad day. You have someone you need that needs you back. You have someone you can be yourself with. No judgment, no regrets. That's what love does for you. Whether it's right or not.

But then this retarded, deaf love also comes with a dark side. The pain it causes may sometimes be irreparable, the void it leaves behind unfillable. It has caused men's daddy-business to be cut off, women's weaves to be ripped out of their scalps in more than hilarious fights, cars to be burnt down, individuals to be stalked to their graves and others to be locked up in asylums.

Don't joke with this love business. It is some serious *ish and when you jump into it, be careful with what and who you are handling. You have no idea what effect it will have on the future. The consequences range from a smile and simple goodbye to rational people tying themselves up with explosives and shouting in gibberish, illogical language off building rooftops. I may owe my great hair (yeah right) and even skin tone to my 2-minute stint with love and Nivea moisturizer and toner but imagine if I was a Muslim fanatic. That poor dude would not be around to tell his tale.

According to urban dictionary.com:
Love:
nature's way of tricking people into reproducing.

Just for you.

Love me don't just like me,
Hold me don't just hug me
Kiss me don't just peck me
Show me off don't just introduce me.

Make me feel like I matter
Inside the house as well as outside of it.
Make others know that you care
Whether or not I am there.

Be my biggest fan,
Be my most objective critic,
Don't fight me, fight for me.
Don't compromise me, compromise for me.

Stand by me,
Stand for me,
Laugh with me,
Let me cry.

Remember my name when you talk,
Remember my face when I'm gone,
Remember my body when you sleep,
Remember my voice when you listen.

I am not perfect,
that much is clear,
but if you don't make me feel perfect,
I'm afraid I too cannot make you feel dear.

Bent and Broken

I am in pain today. My back feels like it wants to leave my body and start a life of its own, my stomach feels like it's being pulled apart with pliers, my muscles just don't fair too well in bad weather and my fever's just bubbling under the surface waiting to explode. Don't feel bad. It's just part of my cold weather program. My body and I have accepted to live in painful existence for 2 months a year every year.

But that's not the bent and broken I'm talking about today. I'm talking about the bent broken that no one quite gets to see. The bent and broken that you are when you are in the comfort of your own room, in the solitude of your own darkness. Alot of us, infact I can bet all of us have a dark place where we lock up all the disappointments and the regrets we can't or won't deal with. I have more than one place. My dark places are marked graves that will one day make me millions.

As you have probably figured by now, I like wallowing in a space of darkness but there are a bunch of bubbly people on the streets who can't seem to help but smile at the world and walk around with a little bag of sunshine to spread to the world. I don't get them and I prefer to avoid them all together. Not because they make me wish I was like them but because I keep wondering what kind of energy is required to jump and down like that all day.It's physically exhausting to watch. I like dark people. They understand life my way.

But I envy these bright and shiny people just a little bit sometimes. They are easy to please, easy to read, life is all sunshiny and bright and when they want to retreat internally, they have a happy place with meadows and yellow flowers and distractingly blue skies. (When I retreat, I'm surrounded by burgundy leather interiors, wooden dashboards and revving V12 engines. Pure Bliss) Every so often, I want to live that life so for 2 months in the year, not usually following each other and rarely even full months, I wear my new persona and walk around with my pocket full of sunshine or at least a brightly lit torch.

It's usually not too bad but I am bent and broken and fortunately for me, I like it. I like being dark and broody. I think it suits me. Of all the bad things I carry around with me, this is the one that I like the most and want to keep. If you don't like it, you, like the cold weather, will have to wait for your 2 months a year to get your handful of sunshine from me.

All I want for christmas.

I watched this movie once upon a time. It was a sad soppy story that I must have watched by myself (I don't go around crying in front of people) It's about this boy who after losing his dad and having only his loving but overextended mother, desperately wished for a new father figure for Christmas. Of course it ended happily otherwise that movie would have made no sense. Christmas is the point of the year in which everyone believes in miracles. Life can change if we believe. "Yes we can" and what not.

When we were kids, anything was possible. We asked for the moon and at the very least expected to get bits of the sky. So when we wrote that letter asking for the world and then some, we usually expected to get it. From PSP's to parents to fighter jets to new houses. And every year when we didn't get what we wanted, we asked again and again and again. Children are resilient and have faith like that.

Then we grew older and our dreams changed. The doll house transformed into a sprawling farm house, the toy monster truck turned into a H3, Prince Charming turned into a real live executive and the PSP well, still remained a PSP.

If you are like me however, the older you get the more cynical you become. The letters to Santa or God become shorter and shorter.The sprawling house becomes a 2-bedroom apartment, the H3 becomes a Toyota or worse, the real live exec. becomes a mid-level accountant with barely any ambition. Finally, sooner or later there is no letter to Santa. Your faith dwindles and you avoid asking because you avoid disappointment.

We stop sharing our dreams not only with Santa and our friends but even with ourselves. We dare not dream lest we fail. But we don't all have to be like me. In fact, I don't have to be like me. I think there is still room left for us to pursue that child like faith and ask for the world at Christmas. We should still expect that miracle from God at least once a year. There are people out there who have asked and received. So why not you? why not me? Why can't I ask for the moon at Christmas and expect at least a slice?

What do I want for Christmas? Seeing as I am still quite averse to disappointment, I won't say it out loud. But I can tell you this. If my wish does come true, I might just write about it. Then maybe you can believe that yours can too.

When Black and White mix

My parents are as black and white as they come. My mother is as light as a ripe banana and lets just say my father is quite blessed melanin-wise.

My mother has an opinion on everything including the workings of NASA. If she knows absolutely nothing about it, she will have an opinion on it. My father's only opinions come in the form of politics, athletics and our ridiculous ex-neighbours. My mother is an avid traveler and can tell you in detail the pros and cons of every international airline in every accessible country. My old man needs a 20 page report accompanied with a summary and a short documentary on why he should leave the house to go to the shops during non-working hours. My mother has a sophisticated sense of fashion. All her handbags are per-ordered, her suits come labeled in Italian and even the pants she chills with in the digs are wool with double lining. My father has one pair of shoes, two pairs of khakis and 4 shirts. If you met my father just after he woke up, you'd think my mother adopted him from a shelter. (he once came home bragging about a shirt, a tie and a pair of cuff links that he got for 500 bob at Garissa Lodge. He was hopelessly lost in Eastleigh when he stumbled on the bargain of a lifetime. Needless to say my mother was beyond horrified and the said clothing has not been seen since) My mother watches Nigerian and Mexican soaps with the passion and fervor of a student before a final. If it has no blood, fighting,shooting or investigation, my father naps quietly on the couch. Like I said, black and white.

But they found a way to mix their black and white into a nice grey colour that everyone has learnt to admire from a polite distance. My father will quietly listen as his wife explains in minute by minute detail what Alejandro did to Camila-Oh. My mother will sit quietly while her husband stubbornly refuses to ask for directions for the millionth time and they get hopelessly lost. They are both extremely bad with time, highly stubborn and unbending and extremely vocal when they know they are wrong about something. Facts none of their children mention lest we find ourselves on the streets.

However, from them we have learnt how to compromise for those we love. How to never give up on something you believe in. How to make the best of what life has given us. How to make impossible goals achievable. Mostly we have learnt that not everything is that serious and money, like everything else, comes and goes and where it goes is usually entirely up to us. I guess after more than 30 years with the same person, setting goals, fighting, compromising, growing, it goes without question that you learn how to make white and black mix and form a workable grey that both of you are pleased with. Hopefully I'll find the black to my white and together will find a way to mix it and form our own unique grey. Until then however, I am glad to bask in my parents gray until they kick me out.

Just one of those days

I'm having one of those days. You know those ones where you just don't want to wake up and play nice. You don't feel like chatting up to anyone. Those ones where you need to sit in silence at home and eat unhealthily and watch life pass you by. I'm having one of those days.

I'm having one of those days where even dressing decently and walking out of the house is a greater bother than necessary. One of those days where I want to switch of my phone, climb on the roof with my blanket and ice-cream and switch of my mind to what is going on with the world.

I'm having one of those days where saying "how are you doing?" is too much to ask of me. Where being nice and small talk is just grating at my very soul. One of those days where if I don't turn up to work, I wouldn't much care for the consequences.

I'm having one of those days where having an expression on my face means stretching my facial muscles beyond their limit. A blank face is more than I can muster, pretending to get work done is more than my mind needs to do.

But unfortunately for me, I have to get up in the morning. I have to dress decently, I have to check that my phone is fully charged, I have to go to work, I have to smile and say "good morning" and I have to get work done. Mostly because tomorrow, I will need the money to buy the blanket and the ice-cream, to maintain that roof that is over my head and to still have that phone that I really want to switch off today. Unfortunate for me. So unfortunate.