The Donkey

I read this yesterday and thought I could share it today :-)

I heard a funny story about a farmer Jacob, who had a mule named Caesar that fell into an abandoned well fifty feet deep.Jacob really loved this old mule. But when he surveyed his situation, he realized there was no way to rescue old Caesar.

The well was very narrow and Caesar was crammed at the bottom. The mule had not moved or made a sound. Jacob therefore figured that Caesar had died in the fall. As much as it bothered him to give up on the mule, he was a practical farmer. He decided to leave Caesar at the bottom of the well and fill it up with dirt.

Jacob called some friends to help shovel dirt down the well. The first shovel load of dirt woke up Caesar, who'd been knocked out. When the mule felt the next load of dirt hit his back, he realised what was going on. But instead of letting himself be buried, Caesar shook it off.

Every time a load of dirt hit his back, the mule shook it off his body, tossing the dirt to his hooves. Then he'd step out of it.
Caesar kept it up. Shake and step. Shake and step.

After nearly an hour of shovelling dirt, Farmer Jacob and his helpers were stunned to see Caesar's ears appear at the top of the well. He was not dead. They kept shovelling until the old mule stepped out of the well and walked in freedom.

They'd come to bury him, but they raised him instead! When you feel the dirt hit your back, when life treats you unfairly, when you go through disappointments- don't let it bury you. Shake it off and step up.

#That is all.

Deeds and Consequences

The smallest of actions is always
better than the noblest of
intentions ." - Robin Sharma

This post has nothing to do with the quote above. I just saw it and liked it.

n/b: This is a melodramatic post. Approach with caution.

I finally flipped. I sat in the car and decided I'm going to quit my job, cancel my accounts ,sell my car and disappear for a little while. Just a little while to go think over my life. Think about what and who I was. The month had been filled with crap filled weeks and there was no light at the end of the tunnel. I wanted to go and be someone else for a little while. With new people and have new experiences. I wanted to just disappear. The weight of my decision stayed with me as I stared at the plain garage wall, it was with me as I went to work that morning in a traffic filled road, it was with me as I picked up call after call and dealt with one client after another.

I just needed to finish designing this project, I just needed to see that other project through, I just had to fulfil that promise. Then I would disappear for a while. Not go on leave. Just go. Go decide who I was. Work on some water project with some women in some county council somewhere, lie on an empty beach far away, bunjee off the Zambezi with strangers and forget everything and everyone for a while. I felt that a month ago and again last Monday and today for a little while in the morning. I dreamt of a place and time that this would not be my life any more. This routine, this bland days, this place, this wrong decisions. A point when none of these would define me.

I have thought long and hard about the decisions I have made in the past. The wrong ones seem to linger the most. Be the most clear. Their consequences seem the sharpest. The scars they leave behind seem the deepest. I have made alot of decisions over the past month. Too many I'm not proud of. Some almost sank my business, others almost sank me, most crushed me. I can only think of 1 or 2 that I look back at and smile. So it was not without a second thought that I wanted to run away and fester in the consequences of my decisions. Run away from everything and forget it all.

But there was life, outside the garage. Waiting for me to fix my mistakes, waiting for me to run around and try put together all the broken pieces. All the wrong decisions. Spring clean my mess. There were people who loved me (I hoped) here that I couldn't just leave behind. I knew if I was to go, I would have to leave things prim and proper. Clean, folded. Laundered and ironed. The worst thing would have been to walk out and leave behind problems for other people to clean. Then it would be harder to return.

So at some point, I went and cleaned out my accounts to put out another fire that I had unwittingly lit. I started doing the clean up. I started fixing and mending. I was living on barely a prayer. I was sweating in cold weather. I was screaming at workers and colleagues in a manner that was unlike me and when I started talking I babbled on and on like an insane woman. I was scary to myself and I think to others. I knew I needed to get up, dirt off my shoulder and scream "sh*t happens" and walk away with my head held high. Act like it didn't hurt or matter. Act like disappointing myself again was just another one of those routines. But that was the point, disappointments were becoming part of my CV and I didn't feel safe any more to make my own decisions.

I didn't care enough. I wanted to lay in the dirt. Just a while longer. I wanted someone else to figure out my life for me. I wanted someone to tell me that it was alright. That I could get up from the dirt now. I needed a hero. But I needed to redeem myself to and for myself. I needed to show myself that I was worth fighting for. That I was going to be my own hero. I needed to show that I could do more than barely survive.

Life happens to all of us. It's just that it has happened to me unexpectedly and I'm struggling to rise to the surface. You sink or you swim. There's not much more choice that you have. It's just that sometimes I just find it easier to sink just for abit. But I know that eventually I have to swim and find solid ground.

PS: RIP Prof Wangari Maathai....you were an inspiration to many.

To the friend I lost along the way...

It feels like its been days, weeks , months, just some unidentifiable amount of time since I last saw you. As I look back, time kind of lost meaning. Sometimes it feels like I was with you yesterday, sometimes it feels like you were never there. But everyday I feel it. Everyday I feel you. Everyday is different but somehow the same. Like you never left but also like you were never there. A conflict of emotions that cannot be explained. An insanity that cannot be defined.

I saw your photo the other day. It was almost like looking at a stranger. There was an unfamiliarity. A disconnect. We haven't spoken in months or is it years and yet it still feels like we should be friends. Like I should still tell you my secrets. Like I should still be able to pick up the phone and call you. Like I could still drop in and rummage through your fridge. But as I stared at your photo. Your smiling and happy face, I realized that you could have been next door or in the next room and I still wouldn't be able to call, or drop in. You could have passed me on the street and I might not even notice you. Like we were never even friends.

The most bitter part of the loss of our friendship is not the physical loss of you but the realisation that I could do with out you. That I could find someone else just as strong as you. That I could solve my problems without calling first for vindication. It was not a mean thought or even a vengeful thought. It was just a true thought. A matter of fact. That life did move on albeit not in the same zeal. You were my greatest enabler and I loved you for it. But I may also have lost you because of it. I might get another just like you but it won't be you. But as I sat there staring in a scary stalker passion, I knew it was not going to be you.

So I switched onto other things. I went back to work, I went to the market, I got stuck in traffic. I picked up my life from where I had left off before I saw you. But that day your image lingered, your laughter, you smile, your quirkiness. Everything that you were to me. Everything that we were to each other. I saw your footsteps in the carpet, I saw your sweater on your favourite seat, I smelled you in the corridor, I saw your favourite meal in the fridge. So, in tribute to you and our friendship, I made a meal you'd have liked, filled my glass with your bitter brew and put music on that you'd have sang loud to and for a few moments I allowed myself to think of you. To embrace your memory. To remember you.

It was scary, I had forgotten so much. I had forgotten you. And that was the saddest part. The most painful. That someone who was once so important to me, could suddenly become irrelevant and un-note worthy. I have no idea what you are doing now and you have no idea what I'm doing. But I do hope you are doing well. That all the things we spoke of are coming true for you. Those things that made you squeal with excitement, that kept you up plotting. Maybe that was what the smile was for. Maybe some day we'll meet and say awkward hellos on the street. Maybe even as I hopefully sit here, we might even become friends someday. But to the friend I lost along the way, I will admit I have not missed you in a long time. But I do miss you today. Terribly.

Love,
Your long lost friend.

Of underwear and men...

So there I am today morning, standing in front of my underwear, comparing and discarding. I think my underwear is the one garment I choose carefully daily. I mean, it is only natural seeing as it is closer to me than a best friend.So, anyway, 6 minutes later, I got a brain wave......what if we chose our men the same way we chose our underwear for the day. Some criteria, same scrutiny, same sceptical eye. I think we would be a much better species.


1.The Comfortable, Never-say-die Grandma Panties:

I don't even think it's right to call this panties. No one enjoys being in them although they are all made of the most comfortable 100% cotton. They bunch up when you wear any clothes including your night shirt. They don't go with anything and come in atrocious colours. The grandma panties is that guy you don't quite like but you have known him for sooo long, you can't quite throw him out. He can't hang out with your friends and you can't hang out with his. But you keep him because he is made of comfortable cotton, you can junk around him because around him, image is as important as last week's salad, he knows all your dirty secrets (when you were thrown in the cell for making out in the parking....who did you call) He's Mr. reliable. He probably sits around hoping you'll see the rock in him for the diamond that he truly is. But we all know, you can't even comfortably admit that he is your friend.....in front of your friends.

2. The Sexy, Uncomfortable Thong:

This underwear only comes out because you are too much of a lady to go commando. Or just not brave enough. You wear it not because of panty lines but because some Cosmopolitan somewhere, and a pervy ex-boyfriend told you, "your a*se looks hot in a thong" and you believed them. And rightly so...if you're looking for the stripper look. It is underwear worn to be seen by others. Here's the problem though. It makes you feel sexy but eventually you know that string at the back will get into the crack and become...literally...a pain in the a*se. A thong man is that chap who makes you feel like a queen one moment and then gets into your cracks and you just want to call the Mafia on him. He is unreliable and just keeps pushing your uncomfortable buttons. But at the beginning, he's the most awesome piece of lace you've ever had. He's there to be shown off. He's eye candy and does things to you that no one will possibly ever do. He's also short term. He has a sell by date and you know it before you even pick him up from the store. If you've owned a thong for more than 6 months, I suggest you seek help.

3. The Great, Reliable Boy Shorts:

If you have ever worn the boy shorts, you know how amazing this particular type of underwear is. They have a certain feel like that is just wear they are supposed to be. They never go for lunch, they never come in uncomfortable colours and fabrics (unless you shop in some very suspect areas). They are flirtatious but you never wear them for a first date...or a second. You can hang out with nothing but them on the whole day at home, and you still feel dressed. They are that great friend that could have been but one thing led to another and eventually, you just became, "boys". You hang out together and share secrets. You give each other relationship advice and job hunt for each other. He's seen you cry and you've held him at his worst. Sometimes, you flirt, dangerously. But you have lines that you don't cross. Not that it has never crossed your mind. But you love the comfort and the friendship. And loosing that friendship would crush you.

4. The Supportive, Forever Panties:

They hold you just so. Like a great glove. They are the perfect underwear in my books. If you choose wisely, you don't worry about panty lines. If you choose the right fabric, you almost look like a Victoria Secrets model. They go with all your clothes. Move seamlessly from office to the club. And if you wear them right, your behind is in, hmmm....They are like the perfect man. He doesn't make you feel trashy but just the right amount of sexy. If chosen wisely, he's an excellent support system. He goes with everything....your friends, your family, your clothes. You bot know how well you compliment each other. You can hang out all day every day without a worry. And you know that when this particular pair gets torn, it takes a crane to pry them off your cold, unrelenting hands. Now, give me one of this any day of the week....... (let me not finish that)

When you know he loves you

I pride myself at being an observer of life. Of human behaviour and reaction. This post is dedicated to all the couples I have been observing from a distance.

I have been observing couples for a while now. Not obsessively. Just like the normal amount that any other person would. Sometimes I sit on a bench at a mall when I'm waiting for people to show up and watch as they walk by. Just observing. Actually I've been observing couples for a long time. The strangest part even after all this observation and concluding, I'm terrible at couples myself. I just never seem to fit in as anyone's girlfriend (or want to....yet) but times are still young and wonders never cease. A time like this next week, month, year, century, we might be talking a different tale. So I have resigned myself to watching behaviour.

Being in a relationship is not an exact science. Every relationship you get into is different with its own dynamics, its own trials, its own new set of excitements and fights. Now, even if you get into a relationship with the same person more than once, it is never quite the same.But some things remain constant, the reactions are the same when its right. Or so I've observed. All that nonsense about walking in step and looking like each other and behaving like his mother I think is bordering on BS. Some women prefer to walk slowly and if you look too much like each other, maybe its time to get a DNA test done. However, I'm not here to dispute studies done by bored Ivy League students.

When I observe, I observe the dude more than the chic in any relationship because being a female myself, most of our relationship run on nothing but emotions and feelings and other mythical things like that. Otherwise pastor Lurve here would not be minting money off women who believe they could marry a man tomorrow that they met today. I believe men love with abit more than their hearts. They love with their minds. Once his mind is set, his heart will follow. Its cautious, its quietly thought out and its decisive. At least for most men. If you have one of those wishy washy men, then my heart goes out to you. Walk away. you deserve better than a man who has no idea where the wind is blowing today.

When a man loves you, he worries about you. His concern goes beyond when you're happy and jolly. It goes into the point where the only thing that is holding you together is your irrational hormones. He worries even when you start speaking in the tongues of your ancestors. He worries because he wants to understand your demons. Not that you should go psycho every day and hope he will still be there 365 days down the line. But on that one day when it gets terrible, when you get laid off, or lose a project or your business crushes to the ground, he stands by you. However, if you are going to jump up and down because of a broken nail, yeah, he might just go and hang out with the boys for abit and let you deal with that one.

When a man loves you, he takes time off his schedule to take care of you. He wants to hang out with you and take you places. He wants to know what you like and he wants you to know what he likes. Whether consciously or subconsciously, he wants you to be insync. He wants your worlds to merge (for lack of a less corny word). I know a guy who leaves work 15 minutes early to go pick up his woman and then hangs out with her while she watches the Kardashians or that other blond chic (Holly I think) He doesn't like boring reality TV but he likes her something serious. And sometimes that's all that matters. That he likes her and she likes the Kardashians. When a man loves a woman, he shall watch the Royal Wedding when the World Cup is on.(Soccer not Netball)

I know its not with every dude on the planet, but when a dude loves you, he lets you drive him. This one is not written in stone. But I find it amazing every time. I keep wondering, who in the world would let me drive them. In their car no less. And especially if he knows how I drive. I'm not saying it'll be my criteria but if a guy I was madly into ever handed me his car keys and it wasn't for an emergency or his leg wasn't broken in 3 places, I think I would weep a little. And then say a prayer for our safety on the road. Over excitement is not a good state to drive in.

I think keeping promises should be an ultimate criteria. And if he's unable to keep it, he explains in normal words why he couldn't. Not those lame excuses of "sijui, nililala cell and they took my belt, my left shoe and my dignity", "Sijui I went to coasto and forgot my phone at home" among other random excuses. If he cares enough, he will try as much as he can to keep his promises. He wants you to trust him and be the person you turn to when you're in trouble. He wants to be reliable. He wants his woman to know he can count on him.

I read bits and pieces of "Think like a Man, Act like A Woman - Steve Harvey" (If anyone has it could you please give me. Thaaaanks) So he was saying that the 3 things that should be a constant if a man is into you like that are:

1.He professes
2.He provides
3.He protects

And I've seen it across my little samples that I take sitting on benches and coffee shops pretending to read. You can tell even before they tell you. He brags about even her most ridiculous achievements, he gets her order, he listens keenly to her, he laughs at her jokes, he wants to know who she is when no one else is looking. He may look at other women but not the same way he looks at her. Never in that same way.

When a man loves a woman, he loves in totality. He finds your rhythm. Of course you have to have a rhythm that is accessible. But when a man loves you, don't be too hard headed. Love him back. Or at least let go before it gets too late and he can't stop.

Dear Lord....

It has been a minute, hasn't it? You and me, sitting, listening, talking, maybe enjoying a comfortable silence. I thought of talking to you earlier today but my day got busy, my mind got clogged up with things I thought were more important. So I put you at the back of my mind, I scheduled and rescheduled until I finally gave up and left it to chance. A chance I knew at the back of my mind I would never take. A chance I hoped you'd understand the circumstances.

I take you for granted like I take many of my friends. And even though I call you friend, I don't seem to treat you as one. I pretend to pray, I pretend to read the Bible and in church, I pretend to listen. Yet my mind wonders. Wonders to things that make no sense right now. Things that would not matter should you decide my time has come. Things you could take away in an instant.

I forget that I am not to complain about prayers unanswered, I should not be impatient with the things that I have requested. That my impatience should not be the wall blocking my blessings. For you have answered them even in the moments I have been too engrossed and selfish with myself. I should know that even though your answer is "wait" or "no", it is only because you want what is best for me. You know what I can handle.

Like the father you are, you have saved me, and kept me and protected me. But like a child, I have whined and complained and rebelled. Not knowing how little I can achieve by myself. Not knowing how much I can achieve through you. I have held on to things that were wrongfully mine, coveted what others have been given, desired things I could never manage, and not once have I asked you to provide for the things that should be rightfully mine.

I have asked others to provide what they could not. I have laid a burden on people that they could not carry. I have held on to baggage I could not lift so I have gotten stuck in the same place for days, months and years on end. I admit I am not perfect and neither is the world I live in. I admit my heart is tattered and my soul is broken. I admit that this body that I love so dearly is flawed and scarred but most of all I admit that I cannot do anything on my own. I cannot do anything at all.

So dear Lord, as I sit here, staring out into a beautiful sunset, feeling the cool breeze run over my leg, quietly enjoying your mercies, would you mind joining me? Sharing in my deepest thoughts, listening to your wisest words and maybe even...sharing a comfortable silence.

Sum it up

If you could sum up your life in a sentence. If a personality robber came and held a gun to your head and asked you to say who you are but only gave you a sentence, what would you say? Many people would probably die. We have no idea what we are doing her. What our purpose is. Apparently you're supposed to be so sure that all it could fit in one sentence and be clear as daylight what you mean.

Life is complicated. It has its own level of surprise. Stranger than fiction they say. But everyone has a baseline. I think. If you have watched the series "Lie To Me", the guys always look for a baseline. A base reaction when you say the truth. When you are at your basic. You react from that baseline. Your propensity to feel, love, hate, cry, laugh...comes from a level and everyone has their own. So if you were asked to sum up your baseline in one sentence, what would that sentence be?

Mutua Matheka did a couple of photography series on success and fears here. I think it pretty much sums up what and who you are. What drives you, what inspires you and what you are running away from, who you aspire to be.

Until very recently I thought I knew who I was but then I started getting this nagging feeling that I am heading in the wrongest of directions. So I have been up for 3 nights now wondering and looking for answers about who and what I am. Not as easy as it sounds...Looking for that sentence that would best describe me truthfully. Here's my conclusion:

I am Murasta and I have no idea who I am anymore.

So who are you?

Weep, my forgetful country, weep!

For the first time in a long time, last week, I took time out to sit and watch the news. Given that I have avoided it consciously for almost a year now so it would only be natural to assume that the news would have changed. For the better even. Always the optimistic soul, I served myself supper and set myself comfortably before the screen. I was going to enjoy Kenyan news dammit. I was determined.

Imagine my shock when the first story I saw was about how our MP's are taking (not stealing, not borrowing) from our public coffers....infact from the government emergency fund.....to pay their taxes. Incase you missed that blatant show of impunity....

http://www.nation.co.ke/News/politics/Kenyan+MPs+dip+into+relief+fund+for+tax+arrears+/-/1064/1227556/-/vtep1iz/-/index.html

So I watched in shock as the rich once again stole from the poor and declared defiantly that they needed it more. They've worked harder, they care less or whatever. But that is not what saddened me as I once again regretted my decision to watch the news. What saddened me was how quickly Kenyans will forget this incidence as we seem to quickly forget all others.

This one did not even get as much hate speech as I had expected. Maybe it was because we were excitedly cheering on for our awesome athletes at Daegu or maybe it was because Kenyans were preparing to spend endless hours following the Hague proceedings or perhaps it was because we were bemusedly listening to PLO get defiant about his sacking. Perhaps we are just tired of all their nonsense and have resigned to it as part of our lives. Whatever it was, left me a little perturbed. In my opinion, this was an incident worthy of the Hague. This was a crime against humanity. A crime against morality.

Last month, Kenyans launched a noble campaign to raise funds for the starving and dying Kenyans. Some gave away their money, others gave of their professions and others gave of their time. All in all, millions gave of themselves and what they could to help others who were in need. They saw a need Now, just picture the money you mpesa'd,sacrificed, re-worked your budget for. Now picture the photos of children, animals and old people on TV dying. Now picture your MP and what he did. With the money you worked hard for.

First they sent us Alfred Mutua to reassure the nation that "we have not received reports of people dying".Which made me wonder whether he thought he was talking to a country of fools and blind men. I was terrified by this. Then quickly after that declaration, our Honourable members took it a step further and decided to keep some of the money for themselves. It was clearly a case of "no sooner...than" Their confidence was worthy of an award.

The sad part about all this is how we continue to do nothing to stop them. How we grumble in the background while year in, year out, they hold budgets and bills hostage until they make yet another hefty bump in salary. The saddest part of all this, is how we continue to bring them back in term after term hoping that this time they will change. This time, the CDF money will go to good use. This time they will grace their constituents. Like a battered wife, we forget about yesterday's kicks and blows and hope this time all he will just slap us.

We seem to have forgotten, the maize scandals, the mysterious missing billions that were written off as accounting errors, the suspicious sale of Grand Regency, the Triton Scandal, the Goldenberg Scandal, etc etc.... Either that, or we are a very forgiving nation. Every scandal is closely followed by another and another until all that the news has become a series of scandals. We hear, we complain, we shake our heads and yet continue to do nothing.

They say hind sight is 20-20 and if we continue condoning every whim by these people, I fear we shall look back and wonder how we got so messed up so quickly. How it got so dark so fast. We are not entirely blameless. We are the ones who keep voting them in and when we remove one we just replace them with a barely better version. We are to blame because we continue to sit back and bicker in our houses and on the streets. We are to blame because we have given our power away to those meant to serve us. We have refused to discipline them and yet we blame others for the mess they have made.

Impunity in our country does need to be cried for...by us. We need to weep hard and react even harder. We need to feel what is happening to our country in our very being. The taste in our mouth should be bitter every time they pull this stupid crap. We need to act before what is happening to others happens to us. The effect will ripple down and are YOU sure you will survive when they crash our economy to the ground? When every coin you have worked hard vapourises or becomes so weak that you can barely live on it.

Cry, my forgetful country, it is time to cry.

In related news, I am back to avoiding the news like a bad disease.

My muse

Ask any creative, where they get their inspiration to do their best work, their best painting, their best writing, what inspired their best work. I don't just think it applies to creatives. Generally anyone really.everyone has a muse. A source of inspiration. A reason for their best work. The reason why your talent is the way it is. It could be a place, a feeling you get, a person, an experience....it could even be something you wear, your lucky underwear perhaps. To the lucky ones, its God. According to urban dictionary: Muse : The greatest band in the world..... #give me a moment to shake my head# and with that I give you my favourite muse song : but a few pages in: Muse : someone special who gives you the ability to write something amazing. music, poetry, stories.its like someone who always gives you a spectacularly exquisite idea or feeling that enables you to create (or come up with) a great thing. its A HUUUGE compliment. Inspiration needs to be fueled, great works need to be inspired. If one muse fades, another needs to be reborn because once it goes, it goes with a significant part of you. The most significant part of you. I write about muses because my muse broke, cracked, got lost, just did something that wasn't right. I can't explain it. It just went. And because it left me, I have been unable to write, draw or even think in any creative manner for awhile now. My creativity just walked away. Waved, blew one of those meaningless kisses and went on holiday. It's not a heart breaking moment, when you wake up and realise, not only don't you feel like but that you don't care. You just become indifferent to your life as you knew it. Indifferent to the very thing that defines you. Suddenly all I want to do is sit back, stare at birds singing and do nothing. All I want is to change who I am and become something different, do something different. So I'll admit I have slowed down. Not because I'm bust but because my mojo broke and I don't quite feel like finding it now. Being in a job and a business that requires abit of creativity, I know this is not the best place to be at. But I just don't feel like.

And yet here I am. Writing, going to work every morning, trying to drag the little juice I have left out. Its been 2 months of feeling blegh! Coming from a time when even ants invading my work space was a source of material, this is very disconcerting. Its a new month so something's gotta give. Maybe time to take that broken muse and fix it. Or maybe my broken pieces can be my new sources of inspiration. The sharp edges, the cracked patches, maybe the scars they have left behind can be my new fodder of things to say and wonder loudly about. Maybe rebuilding my muse will be my muse. Or maybe I'll just replace it and find a whole new sense of musings..... It's easy to say God is my inspiration and yes He is the reason, I breath, eat, talk and do all other things that pertain......but its not the same. God is the one I talk to about my broken muse (or lost muse, is there a milk carton I could use for this) and ask for Him to fix it. I am abit jealous of those people who call Him their muse and mean it. Because He never breaks, leaves or disappears. Maybe now as I write this, I should just make Him my muse mara that. :)

But even now as I sit back and in my mind sip my margarita I wonder if I will ever want a muse like the last one, whether I want anything else to inspire me so strongly, so deeply. ( no strike that)....I want a muse that will inspire me even more strongly, that will take me even higher, that will help me conquer myself, that will take me further, deeper, make me happier. Maybe I'm in this place so that I can rest, regruop, come back with a bang, or at the very least, a slight ripple. Yeah. Maybe that is why. I think I will accept that as a reason. I read somewhere: actually in a book I was given by my good friend- It's your time, that all you need to do is take that next step, you are closer to your goal than you think. Maybe all I need is to get up from my magharita, I may be closer to my next big thing than I think.

This wasn't particularly meant to be a bitch fest about how I have lost my mojo. Or to make excuses about why I may be abit lazier in my writing than usual. This was written because I wanted to tell myself that not everyday is Sunday, some days are *ishy Mondays, some days are Bend-over Thursdays and some days are pool party, do nothing Saturdays. Everyday has its stride and we are meant to take everyday in stride.

My muse will be back. I'm not sure of it but I'm hopeful. Yep, always hopeful *leaning back and taking a sip and looking at this totally awesome cartoon*