Who Am I?

When I was in High School, the first lesson I ever had in Form 1 was CRE. We used to be taught by this Meru teacher whose name seems to have slipped my mind. The first thing she made us do was write an essay on "Who Am I?". That is when I decided CRE wasn't for me. I was too complex to be squeezed into an essay or so I thought.

This whole month, our church has been taking us through Personality Temperaments. Clearly, I'm not complex enough for an essay. Infact, I am so simple, only words are necessary to describe my whole personality. Anyway, for this to make sense, I will have to give a few definitions.

Sanguine
The Sanguine temperament personality is fairly extroverted. People of a sanguine temperament tend to enjoy social gatherings and making new friends. They tend to be creative and often daydream. However, some alone time is crucial for those of this temperament. Sanguine can also mean very sensitive, compassionate and thoughtful. Sanguine personalities generally struggle with following tasks all the way through, are chronically late, and tend to be forgetful and sometimes a little sarcastic. Often, when pursuing a new hobby, interest is lost quickly when it ceases to be engaging or fun. They are very much people persons. They are talkative and not shy.
Choleric
A person who is choleric is a doer. They have a lot of ambition, energy, and passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were cholerics. They like to be leaders and in charge of everything.
Melancholic
A person who is a thoughtful ponderer has a melancholic disposition. Often very considerate, melancholics can be highly creative in activities such as poetry and art - and can become occupied with the tragedy and cruelty in the world. A melancholic is also often a perfectionist. They are often self-reliant and independent.
Phlegmatic
Phlegmatics tend to be self-content and kind. They can be very accepting and affectionate. They may be very receptive and shy and often prefer stability to uncertainty and change. They are very consistent, relaxed, rational, curious, and observant, making them good administrators and diplomats. In fact Phlegs are so laid back that they were almost cut as a personality type in the 1950's.

So back to the "Who Am I?" essay. According to our pastor, we are a mixture of 2 or more personalities. There's a dominant trait and then one or two minor ones. A decade and a half too late and I finally have enough courage to answer that question.

My name is Wairimu Maina. I am a "Melancholic-Phlegmatic". In other words I am sad and lazy. I had always thought it was a personality disorder. As it turns out I only have a Personality type that sometimes manifests itself as a disorder. The laziness is not on purpose, its just because I am too pre-occupied with much bigger and sadder things in life like war in the Middle East and hunger in Darfur. I think my personality type should have an AA group. (Speaking of AA groups, I read yesterday "I am not an alcoholic, I am a drunk....Alcoholics go for meetings!)

When I was much younger, I used to be chronically shy. I wasn't a loner per-se but I really did prefer not to be bothered. I still am shy, I have just learnt to cover it up. You see, I have an absolutely Choleric mother and by that I mean, she is 110% overpowering so my little shy character either had to step up my game or be crashed. She is so Choleric, it has over-powered all other temperaments that she may have. I chose to step it up but sometimes when I'm tired, I do crash under her small frame and then hold it against her for all time (or at least for a few hours). So I became a bit louder and fought a bit harder through life and now I am a bit more forceful with my ideas. I still hate presentations, absolutely can't stand crowds, loath small talk and if I can, I prefer to stay home in silence and read.

I am an introvert meaning I keep both joy and pain locked somewhere way way deep inside of me. That's why I occasionally come out as cold. I prefer to deal with my own emotions by myself. Its easier for people to deal with the best parts of me than the worst. The only emotions I think I have ever felt with completion are sadness and rage. That's why I don't like confrontation. But I am at my best at work when I am sad so sometimes its welcome. Especially jus before exams or when dealing with a confusing project. Strangely I am not as productive when I am happy. Maybe I might have to give up working when I get married or just find a new muse for inspiration.

I love to read but I hate the exams that follow. Luckily for me I also have an extremely large fear of failure and being left behind so yet another reason I fake being loud and hard working. That's why I think my family thinks I am driven. If they only knew (none of them read my blog, I checked so my secret is safe with us.) I have about 4,000 fears, give or take 173. None of which I shall share with you. I have no idea where my life is going so it scares me not to know what will happen to me in the future or even what I will be.

I don't think I am particularly that creative or have that much to offer the world but I come from generations of brilliant people. I think it's my greatest strength and I continually thank God for it. It's probably the only reason I have made it this far. I do however get bored very easily so what people mistake for creativity is pretty much me trying to fight imminent boredom.

Lastly, I can honestly say if I came back in another life, I 'd like to come back as a "Choleric-Sanguine". I'd love to be that decisive and driven. A total people-person who would take over the world. I'd embrace the crowds and love hanging out in parties. Right now, I am having a hard type even keeping myself interested let alone commanding whole crowds. But the world needs all types to keep spinning on its axis, so I guess it does need me if only for a little bit. I guess we all can't embrace crowds and love the world.

I did a test and found I was a INTP (Introverted, Sensor, Thinker, Perciever):
Intensely intellectual and logical, INTPs are conceptual problem solvers and often show flashes of creative brilliance. Outwardly quiet, reserved, and detached, INTPs are inwardly absorbed in analyzing problems. They are critical, precise, and skeptical and are driven to find and use logical principles to understand their many ideas. They like conversation to be high level and purposeful and may argue to the point of hairsplitting just for fun. INTPs are convinced almost exclusively by logical reasoning.

They set high standards – for themselves and for others. INTP’s think in extremely complex ways and are generally better at organizing new concepts and ideas than at organizing other people. Highly independent, INTP’s tend to be more interested in finding creative solutions to problems than implementing them on the ground level.
(I didin't make this up. I promise this is what they wrote)

Told you my creativity comes in flashes.............

http://www.dumage.com/disney-for-adults/

All for the love of Art!!

Saturday Night Live

He phoned me at 4 in the morning to open the door. I had just fallen asleep so the moment was not as amusing or as welcome as one would expect. But I was expecting his call. I did the necessary, dressed up and walked towards the door. His stench hit me way before I saw him turn the corner. That wasn't as welcome either. "I should be used to this by now!" I thought to myself. But considering what I had taken him through in the past, I was going to suck it up and do this for him gladly.

Without my specs and after a short nap, my eyesight goes from worst to terrible so I didn't notice anything at first. At least not until he walked into the light in the laundry room. I almost wanted to push him back into the darkness. That way I wouldn't have to see it again. His face was swollen and I have never seen him in such pain before. He wasn't drank but he was definitely struggling to move. I had left him earlier that morning looking bright and chirpy. Now even though he was wearing the same clothes, he looked dull and tattered.

He was slightly muddy, extremely dirty and unusually wet for the slight drizzle that was outside. I was first hit by guilt then sadness then pure rage. At that point I could have killed whoever did this to him. This is when having super-powers would have made sense. Nyeri women don't get their violent reputation by just sitting on the sidelines. He poured himself a glass of water and started stumbling towards his room. I locked up behind him and placed ice on his swollen lip. There was clearly no way I was sleeping tonight. Not with him across the hall looking like he'd just been run over by a truck and then some.

I drifted in and out while "Lie to me" played in the background. From the shuffling and tossing and turning I had heard, he hadn't gotten much sleep either. By 6 in the morning, we were both staring at the ceiling, listening out for the rest of the house to move. His face was turned towards the wall, the swelling had gone down but I guess he wasn't particularly ready for everyone else to get a viewing. By 9 in the morning, there was alot of yelling coming from outside the doors. None of us made a sound. We could deal with them later.

He looked much better in the morning after a long warm shower. Some of what I thought was bruising was just splashes of a combination of dirt, alcohol and urine. The swelling around his mouth had gone down significantly. His muscles didn't hurt as much. He said he wanted to go to church so I took him. We sat there silently while the pastor preached on. His eyes were glazed and distant. My mind was killing those bastards in new ways every second. Men don't show emotion. They don't feel pain. They just deal with it. The most I could do was just sit there. He didn't want tea, he didn't want food. Must be the sense of violation. A few minutes with the nephew after church and he was starting to look and act normal again. They understand each other. They know how to calm each other down.

He finally suggested that we take a walk to the junction. He needed to feel "less empty". That's how he described it. He needed to stretch his muscles, get his mind off things. That's when he finally told me everything that happened the night before. Robbery in a toilet stall. Apparently there was a fight and then a punch that knocked him out cold. 5 man-boys. All he wanted to do now was sleep. So I fed him, I watered him, I drugged him and I put him to bed. In a few hours, he'd wake up refreshed, back to his joking self and all these would be behind us. But if I ever meet those 5 idiots who did this to him, I'll skin them and then wash them in acid. I may be a small person but I carry rage like a wronged beast.


PS: news has it that there's a group of 4 men carjacking and killing in the Karen-Langata area. Please watch yourselves.

The Impossible

Moment of honesty
Someone's gotta take the lead tonight
Whose it gonna be?
I'm gonna sit right here
And tell you all that comes to me
If you have something to say
You should say it right now

You ready?

You give me a feeling that I never felt before
And I deserve it, I think I deserve it
It's becoming something that's impossible to ignore
And I can't take it

I was wondering maybe
Could I make you my baby
If we do the unthinkable would it make us look crazy
If you ask me I'm ready
(I'm ready, I'm ready)
If you ask me I'm ready
(I'm ready, I'm ready)

I know you once said to me
"This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be"
Time is only wasting so why wait for eventually?
If we gon' do something 'bout it
We should do it right now

Bay, uh

You give me a feeling that I never felt before
And I deserve it, I know I deserve it
Its becoming something that's impossible to ignore
It's what we make it

I was wondering maybe
Could I make you my baby
If we do the unthinkable would it make us look crazy
Or would it be so beautiful either way I'm sayin'
If you ask me I'm ready
(I'm ready I'm ready)
If you ask me I'm ready
(I'm ready)

Yeah, sing...

Why give up before we try
Feel the lows before the highs
Spread our wings before we fly away
I can't say I came prepared
I'm suspended in the air
Won't you come be in the sky with me

I was wondering maybe
Could I make you my baby
If we do the unthinkable would it make us look crazy
Or would it be so beautiful either way I'm sayin'
If you ask me I'm ready
(I'm ready, I'm ready)
If you ask me I'm ready
(I'm ready, I'm ready)

Another sad affair!

When I started thinking about writing this article a couple of days back, I had all sorts of funny things lined up. Useless anecdotes and maybe a short piece on the dress and shoes that I was going to wear. It was going to be an entertaining piece and even as I went through it in my mind, I was impressed by myself! Before I go any further, the dress(was a lovely short black and white number that though I may have denied numerous times through out the day, I may have occasionally sat on my butt)

I once told my friend that if I get married, my husband better look like the happiest man alive or I will set him on fire. In this case, the groom looked like he had just won the Nobel prize plus a Pulitzer and then went home and discovered he had just won the presidential elections. That is exactly how every groom should look like. Like he has finally found home. They were quite the pretty couple. Considering it was the first wedding I had attended in quite a while, it was not a bad way to re-introduce myself to the culture of dressing up for an occasion.

But at some point during the evening party, I stood on the balcony and looked in at all those people dancing and screaming and for the first time in a long time, my fears came to the surface. Suddenly I couldn't breath, I couldn't think and all I wanted to do was crawl under a rock and disappear for awhile.Suddenly I felt like I was all alone in the world. That is not a good feeling by all standards. I was standing and laughing and listening to the most hilarious people I had met in a long time and all I could feel inside was a certain emptiness I couldn't explain even to myself.

My greatest fear I think is growing old alone and as I stood there screaming to "single ladies" I wondered if I was going to be that "cool yet sad" aunt who always had other people's kids at her house over school holidays and no one else the rest of the year. I kept feeling like everyone was going to leave the singles club until the only one left screaming to that song is me. And I think I know people well enough to know that quite a number of them will go down sooner and faster than they think.

I know I'm a bit young to be thinking about such nonsense but I can't help it. It's not that I have a particularly dark past as far as relationships are concerned or I have a history of terrifying and cruel men, it's just that I felt like that part of me that allowed me to feel that kind of thing kinda died and no matter how I try or which way I look, I can't seem to feel anything much. And on Saturday night, it sent me into a spiral of fear I couldn't control. For the first time I admitted to myself that this,running and screaming and being happy like a crazy person, may never happen for me.

I wanted to go back and change my life, do everything differently, start afresh, say things differently, react differently and just be different from who I turned out to be. Maybe I wouldn't be spiraling uncontrollably to my own feelings of self doom. Maybe I'd have someone to drive me with me at night, to help me exercise my back on Saturday mornings, to go with me for "Inception" and even to tell random facts that I keep reading in random magazines in the salon. For the first time in a long time, I needed to just be weak.

Maybe that's what I need. To block out everything for awhile. Go into a "media blackout" of sorts until the fears subside. Then I can return strong again and drive myself in the dark. No fear. Start everything from scratch. Say things like I should have, do things like I would have, react like I was supposed to. Like a friend told me this morning "Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to start over!"

oi! I think my Brain is dead

Rarely does my brain have absolutely nothing to say to me. It see something, makes a sarcastic comment, writes an article and the smugly waits for me to do something about it. My problem is usually too much noise, rarely too little. So that's why I'm scared. My brain has gone on leave without me. I should really reconsider this relationship I have with it. I might be getting a raw deal.

I was recently prescribed for muscle relaxers and pain killers. I am just thinking from the top of my head (seeing as that is all that is functioning now) that perhaps all the muscles in my brain have relaxed. Does the brain have muscles...hmmm!I wonder! My doctor should have mentioned that when I asked about side effects. In my profession, it is totally unacceptable for my brain to take a hiatus. Because it takes with it all sorts of creative ingenuity. And honestly, that's my good side. I don't need people seeing who I really am. So not cool brain!!

I wonder if I can use this as an excuse to skive work. But in the last couple of months, I've come up with so many excuses, the management probably thinks I come from a broken, dysfunctional family and that I have no way of controlling my ever increasing low immunity. They must be silently waiting for me to collapse or go mad (and at the rate I'm going, they might not have to wait for too long!)

This story is not going to take a random twist at the end or end with a profound challenge. Like I said earlier, my brain has gone to sleep and slept with all that is good. Unfortunately, including my humour and ability to make coherent sentences. (Lucky me, it didn't go with my big words, but it might have taken off with my spelling!) So I'm going to sit at my desk and hope that my attempts to look busy are fooling the people that matter. With any luck, my selfish brain will come back to me before anyone notices.

The Breakfast

The day: 16th August
The Time: 7.00 a.m
The Location: Baraza Room, PanAfric Hotel
The event:Some networking breakfast shindig.

5.30 a.m: I need to wake up. My body is not used to such ridiculous hours since I neither live along Mombasa Road or Thika Road. Where I live, there is no traffic that suddenly and mysteriously appears at 6.30 a.m so I have the luxury of sleeping in. I have been clubbing all weekend so it's no shock that my body still hasn't recovered by Monday morning. But I promised to show up so I suck it in and wake up. I have no idea how long it will take me to get there by mat. I have no concept of time at 5.30 in the morning.

6.20 a.m: After a hurried shower, I rummage through my wardrobe and pick the first clothes I see that may match. I discover later in the light of day that I picked a pale beige combo that pales out my beige complexion more. Oh well! I regret that decision soon after when the first person I meet at PanAfric is my "host". She has this beautifully cut gray suit that pales me even more and her heels are a shining black colour. Clearly she doesn't use public transport. Last time I saw her was 14 years ago in primary (when we were all one complexion and no one cared). Now she makes me look like she has been working for 10 more years than I have. But then again, maybe she has. I think that if we sit down, we might look almost the same. I end up sitting between my exceptionally well-dressed ex-school mate and a lawyer type who kept asking me if I'm the same Wairimu on the card. I wonder if he thinks I'm peddling someone else's cards. Especially considering the sticky note that they put on my sweater screams "WAIRIMU".

7.45 a.m: Some overly charismatic guy at the front calls up the members of this organisation to the front to give something they call "the 60 second presentations". I mentally calculate 60 seconds by the number of people. These mini-presentations will take close to 3 months to end. I look down at my watch. I have a meeting at 10.

8.10 a.m: I intend to eat the breakfast I paid for but time is running out. I notice a lot of clapping. Way too much clapping. Kenyans love to clap. It's like our way of pretending to pay attention. After clapping twice in a space of 2 minutes, I give up and stare blankly at my empty cup of tea. Now I can think of nothing else but breakfast.

8.21 a.m: After what feels like hours of clapping and chuckling, the "60 second presentations" finally end. The overly charismatic guy is back on stage. I hope he's telling us to go outside and eat. Unfortunately, he calls a shorter louder version of himself to give a short speech on why their method of networking is the best. (I imagine it's because it involves a lot of chuckling and clapping) I pay rapt attention. Finally something helpful to listen to. They lose me when they mention the amount needed to join their "club". My mind is quickly back to the breakfast outside. There must be a way I can get the food and disappear.

8.30a.m: The lawyer type next to me interrupts my day-dreaming. "Are you going to join our membership. We really need an architect!" My mind screams "At that price? hell no!!" My mouth however says "Let me go home and think about it." I start fidgeting with my cup even more. I really need to get to that breakfast before I start eating the napkins and business cards.

8.45 a.m: Finally the call to go eat. I look at my watch again. I have no time to stand around and mingle. I dash out and ask one of the waiters if I could get a bag to pack the food. I paid good money for it.(I don't tell the waiters that!!) There is no way I am leaving good food behind. She walks off to get a box. I stand around aimlessly while I wait. 5 minutes. 10 minutes.12 1/2 minutes.....where the hell is she with my box?

9.03 a.m: I finally go over to some guy in a chef's uniform and ask for a box. He asks me to serve in a plate ant he'll go put it in a box for me. 2 minutes later he returns carrying a box. The box is so large, I think I could use it to pack for a trip to the coast and I am an over-zealous packer. My yorgurt, my slivers of bacon and sausages are dancing inside the box like a stadium. They should have a plastic box to put fruit salad but I am worried they might bring me a bucket. I wonder if anyone will notice if I try to fill it with more food.

9.24a.m: I run into the office, drop my box on my workstation, pick up some drawings and promptly run out for my meeting. I make it with seconds to spare. A lot of talking, sitting, pointing, standing and deadline making later, I still can't get my mind off the breakfast, now sitting uneaten in a big box on my desk. I think I should dedicate an article to the size of that box. It was quite the task carrying it on the jav. I should have filled it! Texts start coming through. I can't read them now in front of all these people.

11.59 a.m: I finally get to the office. Breakfast finally. I need to check my texts first. Just in case there is anything important. First text I read "Hey you, can't believe I'm leaving without you!" I stare blankly at my phone. Suddenly all thoughts of breakfast disappear.

Sh*t happens

That's what we say when we really don't care about what's going on or really have no other words of consolation.

"I got a flat in the middle of the night!"
Sh*t happens!"

"I got retrenched"
"Sh*t happens!"

"I got jacked"
"Sh*t happens"

You can say it to pretty much anything that doesn't require a high five or a slap on the back. Bad break ups, retrenchments, car trouble in the middle of nowhere.....all attributed to sh*t!You have to wonder what kind of burden we are giving this sh*t for things we could more or less have prevented or worse, could not have imagined.

I started using this phrase when I gave up trying to like everyone and trying to get everyone to like me. I looked back and said "Shit happens!" but I added "to the best of us!" so that it doesn't sound too cold. I thought it was a nice way of brushing people off so that they think I care without having to you know....actually care. I actually used to feel quite proud after saying it. My call of duty as a friend had been fulfilled and now I could go on with my life.

But a few moments ago, I saw a man pour his heart out about the sudden death of his grandmother and how heartbreaking it was for the family.How his uncle broke down. How viewing the body made him feel. His friend's response....

"Sh*t happens dude!"

I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to shout and tell him that there are some things we cant attribute to "shit". I wanted to run over and give him a good slap across the face. When someone goes through a heart wrenching experience, your first response should never ever ever be "sh*t happens, dude!". Pat him on the back, say sorry, bump him on the shoulder, even say nothing at all and just nod convincingly but "shit happens, dude"? Really? Was that the best he could come up with? Of all the sympathetic phrases in the world..........

But it wasn't my conversation. I didn't even know this two dudes. Maybe that's how they communicated. I highly doubt the guy with the deceased grandma will ever tell his pal anything that personal again but then again, I couldn't quite turn and smack his friend on the face, could I? I was also guilty of telling people the same thing when I didn't even know how it affected them. In a world of cynical and selfish people (myself included), this unemotional, totally tasteless statement is what we have finally come up with so that we don't have to show emotion for people other than ourselves.

Sometimes it's not sh*t happening. Sometimes it's actual real stuff that is causing some real hurt. Your pal comes over and out of 6 billion people chooses to tell you about the most devastating event they have gone through in the last 24 hours
(which depending on the person ranges from breaking nails to gun point experiences), just nod your head like a wise sage and pray to God that your "pal" only needed a shoulder to cry on because if you open your mouth and the words that come out are a variation of "sh*t happens!", I don't think you should ever go around asking for sympathy when you have devastating moments.

Of course some things deserve a "shit happens" moment. They are so hilarious and ridiculous that even fiction couldn't have caught up with that. But not everything can be wiped away like that. And you are not allowed to sit smugly looking like you have done your call of duty and should be awarded some prize for your great words of encouragement. You should slap yourself on the face before your miserable friend shoots you in the leg or worse.

As I stood there staring blankly in shock, I realised I can't judge this poor, misguided soul who thought that it was best to console his friend like that. I am just as misguided. I should have gone up to him and told him that we should probably start an anonymous self-help group in some church basement and discuss the best way to approach consolation. Because "unsympathetic statements" it is a real problem we don't seem to address enough. Maybe then we would be better people and we can stop blaming everything on sh*t.

Dreams that make you remember

Studies show that the average dream takes about 3 seconds to start, have an exciting middle and end dramatically. The middle has to be exciting or else its no fun sleeping. Dreams are also meant to be a manifestation of our sub-conscious exaggerated to X1 million. (That is the end of my knowledge of dreams)

Yester-night, I had a dream that I haven't had in almost 4 years. The setting wasn't the same, the words weren't familiar but the characters were the same and the emotions it evoked were exactly the same. (Speaking of evoking feelings...New Range Rover Evoque....mambo yote. I can do things with that car that would embarrass a few people). Anyway back to my dream. The reason that this dream meant something that other dreams haven't in a long time was because it allowed me to remember a time when I wasn't so angry with life or with myself. It helped me remember that things weren't always so bad.

The dream was calmer and it felt like I had been dreaming it the whole night. 3 seconds my foot. And like 4 years ago, when I had it the first time, there was a lot of smiling and calm conversation that hasn't been there in a long time. Usually my dreams are filled with screaming, shouting, dirty conversations, dashing, running that take up all of 3 seconds. And believe me when I say, it is like 3 seconds. If those dreams made it past the 3 second mark, I'd probably get a heart attack in real life from fatigue.

Probably the reason I had this dream was because I had just watched something that talked about releasing my negative energy so that my "pools of chakras" can flow unobstructed. (Read about chakras...interesting stuff) So between the chakra story and my sub-conscious act of forgiveness, this dream manifested itself. It was, I think, my final act of forgiveness for the people who were in the dream. I also think it was the end of a 4-year journey that I wasn't too ready to let go of. I really thought I had let go of all that negativity but clearly, I was still holding on to a lot of pain. Yesterday, in the most undramatic dream I have had in years and with a silent "sigh" in the middle of the night, I finally let go.

Did I wake up relieved? I don't know. Did I wake up feeling lighter? That is just stuff made up by the media to create dramatic effect. But I can say for a fact, I woke up feeling calmer, more in control of my emotions, even less hypocritical. It was the dream that made me remember. It made me remember that before all the pain and shouting and fire and cursing, life was actually calm and happy. I, was calm and happy. Very much like I am this morning. Happy and calm. That dream made me remember.

The winner stands alone.

I'm reading a book called "The Winner Stands Alone" (Paulo Coelho). I think this book is more my speed than most of his books. "11 minutes" was alright, I still have mixed feelings about "Zahir" and "The Alchemist" got me so confused, I felt slightly dumb after. So when I finally came across this book, it was like finding diamond under those small, dirty stones. I took a deep breath, bought it and well, I am quite glad. Now I am going to plagarise a few pages from it. That's what I do when I have no profound thoughts of my own, I steal from those who do.

....After all he's paid her-and paid her well-for her time.
"How do you intend to do that?"
"Do you know anything about frogs?"
"Frogs?"
"Yes, biological studies have shown that if a frog is placed in a container with water from its own pond, it will remain there, utterly still, while the water is slowly heated up. The frog doesn't react to the gradual increase in temperature, to the changes in the environment, and when the water reaches boiling point, the frog dies, fat and happy.
"On the other hand, if a frog is thrown in a container full of already boiling water, it will jump straight out, scalded and alive!"

Olivia doesn't quite see what this has to do with the destruction of the world. Igor goes on:

"I was like that boiled frog. I didn't notice the changes. I thought everything was fine, that the bad things would go away, that it was just a matter of time. I was ready to die because I lost the most important thing in my life, but, instead of reacting, I sat there bobbing apathetically about in water that was getting hotter by the minute."

Olivia plucks up the courage to ask:
"What did you lose?"

"The truth is I didn't lose anything. Life sometimes separates people so that they can realise how much they mean to each other. For example, last night, I saw my wife with another man. I know she wants to come back, that she still loves me, but she's not brave enough to take the first step. Some boiled frogs still thinks it's obedience that counts, not ability: those who can, lead, and those with sense, obey. So where's the truth in all this? It's better to emerge from a situation slightly scalded, but alive and ready to act. And I think You can help me in that task."

What kind of frog are you? I'd like to think I'm the one that jumps out and acts. Unfortunately most times, I'm the frog that sits there and hopes my problems will go away.

When He says No!

From a very young age, I was told that God is the author and finisher of my faith. He is my beginning and my end and He definitely knows the end before I know the beginning. He is the optimist to my pessimist, the faith to my faithlessness, the hope to my hopelessness. I'm usually fine with that.......until He says NO! to me.

I am a stubborn person. I don't take to kindly to people telling me No. Especially when I think I really really have the right to what I am requesting for. Unfortunately, I am flesh from His flesh, created in His own likeness so in my own interpretation, "From His stubbornness, I was made stubborn." So in this battle of wills, I usually don't win. You can imagine if I am this stubborn, how much more stubborn He is. But my mother always taught me never to give up. So I stall, I complain, I beg, I grovel and then I let Him sleep on it to see if He will change His mind.

My best tactic is usually to pretend that I didn't hear what He said (or signed, I believe in signs). Short of thunder and lightning and clouds of fire, I turn a blind eye and hope He'll give up and just say "YES!". But I forget that He is God. The Alpha and Omega. A-Z. I forget that when He says No, it is for my own good and He is not doing it out of spite. I could always continue asking over and over and over for something I know is bad for me but the answer will still remain "No!"

That won't stop me from "giving Him the night to sleep on it!" and then ignoring the answer He gives me and then finally accepting that maybe what He says is actually best for me. So maybe next time when He says No! like He may recently have (I'm still giving Him time to sleep on it), I will try and accept the answer.

It's all good

"It's all good!" That's what I'm afraid he's going to say. I have never disliked that statement more because it's not all good. I haven't told him and the more I sit here, the more I know I'm not going to tell him. He's just sitting there humming he's tuneless hums and smiling. He should just continue smiling. The smiling is re-assuring at the very least. I'm also afraid that I will open my mouth and blurt it all out and then the smile will fade and then I will have nothing to hold on to.

I have booked an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. At the very least that is an afternoon I will have off from work. I'm really hoping that there's nothing wrong. Then I don't have to go for the other appointment on Saturday. That one is to sort out a different issue but I'm really hoping the 2 issues are linked. That way I can kill two diseases with one jab and cut back on the expenses. one appointment to sort both issues.

What if I tell him and then he forgets to show up or ends up having another appointment. He always chooses work over me. At least that's how it will feel. This time won't be any different.If they find nothing is wrong, he might just think I wasted a full afternoon for nothing. But I really do want him there holding my hand through it all. The moral support would be great. Like a good bra. But I don't want him feeling obligated to show up. Like I am forcing him to be there. He'll just pretend not to resent me for it.

I checked the cost for the preliminary visit and I think I can afford it. If there's another appointment needed,and it might very well be needed, I'll deal with it when the time comes. I'm just hoping that it doesn't come to that. Because if I don't tell him about this one, I can't tell him about the next one. It will have to be my cross to bear from here on in. Now I'm just crossing my fingers he never gets to hear about it. Dear God, let nothing be wrong. It might hurt him more than I realise but then again, he might just think "it's all good" and move on with his life like nothing is wrong. I'd rather he doesn't know then I won't have to face the reactions. God knows, I don't need any more pain.

He finally looks up from his food. I'm definitely not going to say anything. At least not until it is absolutely necessary. "U good?" He asks. "It's all good!" I reply. At least for now. It's all good.

Disclaimer: The above story is entirely fictional. I'm all good.

Many Faces, Many Places

"Along that road the man went
And down that road they went,
The man he was, The man they saw,
And the man he wanted to be"
(Micheal Wakefield)

I read that piece a long time ago. Just after high school actually and I loved it so much that I wrote it down somewhere on the back of a book I can't throw away. (That phrase is the reason I can't throw it away). It described me at that point perfectly. I was fresh out of high school and I needed to redefine myself. In my mind I was no longer a girl. I was a woman. I wanted the boys to see me, the girls to envy me and everyone else to bow at my newly experienced feet. Those were good times.

Every so often I remember the paragraph and yesterday was one of those days. I am quite comfortable with who I am right now but sometimes I wonder if I really am who or what I want to be. That's when it hit me that I am myself at every single moment of my existence. When I lie, I am being me....When I am angry, I am being me...When I pretend to be someone I'm not, guess what,I am still me.

It's quite hard to run away from yourself so it is easier to compartmentalise everything and show different people different things. Show them just as much as they can handle so that they don't judge your insanity for what it is. I can say for myself that I am a friend, a best friend, a "mboys", a workmate,an employee, a daughter, a sister and others. With each of these roles comes a whole new me. Who I am as a daughter is not who I am as a "mboys". (Let's just say there are some things my mother should never know)

We are not less of ourselves because we give less sometimes. It's just that on some days and to some people, we only allow so much to be seen of us. Either the person we really are, the person other people think we are or the person we are trying to become. That's why people have expensive suits for meetings with big clients and spend all their money in an expensive restaurant to impress a girl or the expensive prada shoes you wear every time you have a bad day.It may not be who we are everyday but it is who we are at that particular moment.

All of us show one of the 3 people above at any given moment. We are our real, crude selves to our closest. We are our best selves to those we wish to impress and the we are the people we want to be when we look in the mirror but at any given time, all we can be is ourselves.

Goodmorning and a cup of joe!

I don't come from a family of morning people. I find early morning one of the worser creations after mosquitoes and STD's. So today morning was pretty rough for me as I tried to get the energy to come back to work. My biggest issue is that I work on Saturdays and go to church most Sundays so I never quite get a free morning to just sleep in. So when yesterday I got the opportunity to sleep in, I did not spare myself and slept in until 11. I wasn't quite asleep but it was nice not to need to wake up so I kept my eyes half shut for the better part of the "a.m" hours.

Well, the bliss refused to last forever. The alarm clock rudely rung at 6.10a.m today and after several snoozes, I cursed severally, prayed for strength (and forgiveness)and grumpily rolled out of bed. I spent my time in the shower willing my body to get sick. I tried not to get off the jav when we got to my bus-stop. And when the moment finally came to cross the road, I stood there depressed for 10 minutes until my workmate came by and gave me a lift across the road and for the rest of the 5m to the office(Unfortunate. I was hoping to use it as an excuse why I can't get to work.).

Now I think the most depressing part about this morning is the fact that it felt like I was the only one on the road. The mat was practically empty and so were the roads. When I switched on my machine, no one was online and the people on radio and TV were just so annoyingly loud and irritating. To say, I don't particularly like this morning would be an under-statement.

That's what happens when you give someone like me something they never have. It's hard to go back and readjust back to saying "Jolly good morning ain't it?" while my mind quietly stabs you for waking up this early in the morning. So today, I'm not going to say good morning or pretend that I like being awake at this time of the morning. I will quietly dislike my body for not falling sick on my command and my workmate for helping me across the generally empty road. Maybe by tomorrow, my mind would have adjusted back to the drudgery that is the working life. But until then, I hate early mornings.

p.s: Now, here's what takes the cake about this morning. I have a boss who takes all her Thursdays and Saturdays off so she has worked exactly 2 days this week because I doubt she's going to continue working after our meeting tomorrow morning. I have mixed feelings about her right now.

Body Art!

http://www.doubleviking.com/10-realistic-3d-tattoos-10454-p.html

Holiday!!!

Why lie!!For most of us today is a day off, tomorrow is a holiday and if we can get our heads around it, so will Thursday. 3 days that you don't have to account for to HR. 3 days to chill, eat, drink and be merry and then if your head, stomach or "clande" allow, you drag yourself to the polling station and vote. Kenyans love unaccounted for holidays. Just random days that occur in the middle of months that have no gazetted holidays. We don't particularly need them to do banking and go for medical check-ups but it is one extra day to do our "biashara" on the side. And by biashara I mean everything from women, actual business and children. If you can meet your personal clients at the locals next to the station, the better.

It's strange how 3/4 of the working population in this country have more meeting after 5p.m and on weekends than on normal 8-5 "working" hours. I have workmates who love meeting office clients outside the office. 20 minutes with the boss' client and then dash off to your own clients and meet them for an hour. Technically, you're still on your way to the office. You just took a small rest stop on the way. We may not have the conventional 2-3 jobs as depicted in the western world ("My man got 2 jobs. I don't need your drama!")but 75% of Kenyans have more than 1 job to their name.

That is why we love holidays. We love the fact that you don't have to sneak out of the office to go downtown to buy supplies for your business. We love them because you can go clear your Chinese imports from the airport (or Eastleigh, whichever is your preferred border point) and we love them because you can now shamelessly ask for rent from the "vibandas" you spent all your money building a year ago.

So I can safely predict that the next 3 days will see more business being done than in the last month. Especially since it is not a long enough holiday to run off to coast and do some serious damage on your liver and sleep patterns. So as we go into our unplanned for but extremely exciting holiday, all the best in your new and clandestine businesses. I hope it bring you more than you hoped for.

Happy referendum week!

Choices

This week is going to be a week of choices. Our country goes into the polls for one of the biggest decisions it has ever made. So it is no surprise that my mind was more or less focused on the choices I have made and are going to make.

August 4th not withstanding, we all have choices to make every day of our lives. What to wear in the morning, what to eat for lunch, which client to hate that week, what shoes to wear to a wedding. Yes, some choices are that shallow but there are some that are slightly more life changing. More life and death. The kind that make you wish you could be someone else.

Everyone approaches important choices differently. For some it's a challenge, for others it's a problem they could do without but ultimately, you have to make a decision one way or the other or else the decision will be made for you. And rarely will you like the consequences.

It's easy to brush off a big decision, close your eyes and hope fate takes the right course. Until you slowly discover that fate is a cruel practical joker just waiting for a silly person like yourself to practice his trade on. And boy, will he have a good laugh at your expense.

However, every choice you make has consequences and the bigger the choice the bigger the repercussion. And although it is prudent to research and think and rethink and draw up a chart to help you along, there is such a thing as over-kill. A danger in itself since the world will move on and leave you still furiously working towards a decision that is no longer an option.

Eventually, we all have to make our choices in life. We all have to say from time to time "what's the worst that could happen?" and jump in with both feet. But we have to remember, there are some choices that don't have a reset button. Once the decision is made, there is no looking back. So this week, and for weeks to come, choose wisely but also choose in a timely fashion. Life waits for no man (or woman).