1734hrs, electricity is back! Listening to B.E.P, finally!!! I had to fill my time doing something so I arranged my wardrobe. Now I can't find a thing! The mess that it was before was more organized. I think it's easier to find stuff when you can throw away what's on your way. Have I ever told you that the floor is the best wardrobe ever? No? Ma wouldn't agree but I swear by it!
I'd told you that I'd post stuff that grind my ears/eyes earlier so here we go. Not in any particular order, note that.
1. Plates/cups placed too close to the edge of the table. Eeeeeek!!! I always push them close to the center of the table. Once at a hotel a waiter placed a customer's food that close and said customer just went ahead eating WITH THE PLATE EXTREMELY CLOSE TO THE EDGE!! Need I tell you I did not enjoy my meal?
2. Being labeled 'plus size'. I really don't like that! And this is always done by other females. See I have a big bust. I love my DD's to death but is that all you see? Come on!
3. I hate it when people insist on calling me by my surname yet they can's pronounce it!!! Bloody hell!! Just stick to my first name! It's the simplest in the world!
4. Have you ever been nice to someone, usually of the opposite sex, and they think you're kinda into them? Eish!!! As if!! Then their communication to you starts having some sexual undertones... So annoying! especially because I have to tell them off. I'm a very nice person so I hate doing that. But trust me, it will be done. You shall be put in your place!
5. Politically incorrect people. I'm a champion of minority rights so that's that. This also encompasses disrespectful people. Shame on you.
6. I pride myself in being a good listener so I will definitely hear every grammatical mistake you make (and correct you in my head). How do you mix up tenses! Come on! Must be the fruits of not paying attention during English class.
7. I've told you I'm nice. Now I really don't like people abusing this fact about me. Always being asked to do the dirty work because it wont look so 'dirty' coming from me.
Ok.. I've gotten seriously derailed form writing this but will continue the list soon.
It's 1831hrs. I've been playing 'Whenever' and 'The Coming' on a loop!
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Thursday, May 26, 2011
Interlude
It's 1028hrs. I'm typing this on my bed, pillows propped on the headboard to support my back. I'm not listening to any music because of the lovely people over at KPLC. I don't want to play anything on my laptop since I figure I'll save the battery charge. I have 80% remaining. That's good.
I know I haven't been here in a while. Not that anyone's counting though. I have a couple of thing I'd like to write about. I will when I get my thoughts more organized. First I'd like to tell you what my pet peeves are. Maybe you'll find me weird... Maybe not... Maybe they are also your pet peeves.
I would also like to share my mother's advise on dating and choosing the perfect (?) match for yourself. That might be a bit controversial. I may have to put up a disclaimer in case some people 'catch feelings'.
So, yeah. The above is coming soon. Otherwise, school sucks, got assignments stretching from here to there and BooBoo might be a tad confused on my being nice to him. Maybe I should also write about that. Ah! I would also like to write about why I blog. That should be interesting. Mainly it's because I always had a thing for writing. Now trying to develop the skill. Have I ever told you to read Bikozulu's blog? That's awesomeness right there.
I recently stumbled upon a blog called 'Zegz Tales'. Uuuummm.... not to hate, but I really hope that when you read my blog, it doesn't 'sound' like that one. Though it's more like a cheap porn magazine, there are some elements of writing.... Ok. Who am I kidding? Mine's better. Read it and see for yourself.
That's all I have for now. Maybe I'll post my pet peeves tonight or next week.... Inconsistent much? Hee hee!
It's 1045hrs, battery charge is at 72%. If I could be listening to some music right now, it would be Black Eyed Peas 'The Beginning' album.
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I know I haven't been here in a while. Not that anyone's counting though. I have a couple of thing I'd like to write about. I will when I get my thoughts more organized. First I'd like to tell you what my pet peeves are. Maybe you'll find me weird... Maybe not... Maybe they are also your pet peeves.
I would also like to share my mother's advise on dating and choosing the perfect (?) match for yourself. That might be a bit controversial. I may have to put up a disclaimer in case some people 'catch feelings'.
So, yeah. The above is coming soon. Otherwise, school sucks, got assignments stretching from here to there and BooBoo might be a tad confused on my being nice to him. Maybe I should also write about that. Ah! I would also like to write about why I blog. That should be interesting. Mainly it's because I always had a thing for writing. Now trying to develop the skill. Have I ever told you to read Bikozulu's blog? That's awesomeness right there.
I recently stumbled upon a blog called 'Zegz Tales'. Uuuummm.... not to hate, but I really hope that when you read my blog, it doesn't 'sound' like that one. Though it's more like a cheap porn magazine, there are some elements of writing.... Ok. Who am I kidding? Mine's better. Read it and see for yourself.
That's all I have for now. Maybe I'll post my pet peeves tonight or next week.... Inconsistent much? Hee hee!
It's 1045hrs, battery charge is at 72%. If I could be listening to some music right now, it would be Black Eyed Peas 'The Beginning' album.
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Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Point of Order
It's 1734hrs. I'm watching the Beat on Ntv. They play my kinda music on Wednesdays. I was researching for an assignment and got so out of track that I finally landed here. Along the way I came across an article on how to make your period shorter. I was so excited seeing as mine goes for 5 whole days! Till I read the part that says 'engage in strenuous exercise'. Need I say I went on with my digression?
So I landed here. Went through my posts and discovered that I sound like some male bashing bitch! Wa! Too much hate and bile and other negative things to only be directed to men. I mean, I hate (dislike) other things but it's just that I haven't bothered to talk about them here. Hee hee.
I don't hate men. Seriously. In fact, I love men. I love how he go about their duties and responsibilities (some of them). I love how he can unconditionally love football and beer and really don't understand what a woman means when she says he is ignoring her. I love how he'd rather spend a Sunday in his boxers just chilling. I love how he defends his woman when some other guy messes with her at the club. I love how he calls his mother 'mummy' like he did when he was 5. I love he thinks his mother is right about everything and how her cooking is the best.
I love how he looks like when things don't go his way because he'll know he's only human. I love how he will never admit it when his heart is broken. I love how he will not tell a woman he loves her but will show it by just the way he looks at her. I love how he will hold a woman when she's down. Arms that fall short of talking to her and telling her it will be ok.
I love how a man will wear his heart on his sleeve for the right woman. I love how he will be true to only her. I love when a man tells his boys that tonight it' just him and his girl.
So much to love about men. That is, if you come across the right one.
This music and my vision of my ideal man are making me feel all mushy inside. Project boyfriend perhaps?
I hope I've sorta cleared some doubt that I do not hate men :-)
It's 1759hrs.
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So I landed here. Went through my posts and discovered that I sound like some male bashing bitch! Wa! Too much hate and bile and other negative things to only be directed to men. I mean, I hate (dislike) other things but it's just that I haven't bothered to talk about them here. Hee hee.
I don't hate men. Seriously. In fact, I love men. I love how he go about their duties and responsibilities (some of them). I love how he can unconditionally love football and beer and really don't understand what a woman means when she says he is ignoring her. I love how he'd rather spend a Sunday in his boxers just chilling. I love how he defends his woman when some other guy messes with her at the club. I love how he calls his mother 'mummy' like he did when he was 5. I love he thinks his mother is right about everything and how her cooking is the best.
I love how he looks like when things don't go his way because he'll know he's only human. I love how he will never admit it when his heart is broken. I love how he will not tell a woman he loves her but will show it by just the way he looks at her. I love how he will hold a woman when she's down. Arms that fall short of talking to her and telling her it will be ok.
I love how a man will wear his heart on his sleeve for the right woman. I love how he will be true to only her. I love when a man tells his boys that tonight it' just him and his girl.
So much to love about men. That is, if you come across the right one.
This music and my vision of my ideal man are making me feel all mushy inside. Project boyfriend perhaps?
I hope I've sorta cleared some doubt that I do not hate men :-)
It's 1759hrs.
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Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Blood and Tears
St. Michael the Archangel,
defend us in battle.
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
and do thou,
O Prince of the heavenly hosts,
by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan,
and all the evil spirits,
who prowl about the world
seeking the ruin of souls.
Amen.
(Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel)
I got jet lag! Hee hee! Just got in from Mombasa, city of God. Back to my 'studio apartment' that I had apparently missed. Really wish I would've stayed home longer but gotta get back to school and what not. Nairobi is still he hell hole it's always bee. Mad traffic from here to waaaaay over theeeeeere! And there's a fuel shortage to top it off. Get why Mombasa is the city of God?
It's 1635hrs as I start to write this. Imogen Heap's 'Find Yourself' album playing in the background. You may know her track Hide and Seek that has been sampled by countless musicians. That's where the title of today's post comes from.
Are you wondering why I started this post with a prayer? The reason is because, dear reader, we need to pray without ceasing! This world just keeps handing us curve balls. They call it growing up but if this is what growing up means, I quit!
My mind has been on overdrive since last night. Couldn't wait for that plane to land so that I could get my fingers on this keyboard. Going round in circles, aren't I?
Yesterday afternoon was an otherwise ordinary one. Just chilling, enjoying the last day of my holiday with my sister (who has not yet given birth), watching a very useless show (read BBA Amplified) and just talking. We then get a call from mum informing us that Wambui had been killed by her husband.
Wambui Kabiru was a journalist. She worked for Ntv a while back. May she rest in peace and may perpetual light shine upon her.
We are what are usually called 'family friends'. Grew up in the same hood, went to the same church, raised by parents with common ideologies. Didn't talk to her much but my sister and I were close to her brother. Mum found out in the one o'clock news. She was shaken! So was dad. Appropriately so because you never imagine such tragedies can occur so close to home. I think what also got to them is that something like this could happen to one of their daughters.
Wambui's husband apparently strangled her to death and left her lying in bed for close to 12 hours. Icing on the cake, he called her parents and told them what he'd done.
I hope he is lying in a pool of his own blood somewhere where no-one will find him and that scavenger birds will feed on his dead flesh and after that his bones are ground to dust by a herd of elephants such that there will never be a trace of his existence in this world. (Breathe!)
Then again, I hope he he is caught (didn't tell you he's now missing, did I?) and justice is served. I should believe in innocent till proven guilty but I'm hanging my scholarly robes just for this case.
Brings me to my unanswered question; what's the point? Of marriage of course. Why bother choosing to stay with one man if all he's good for is hitting you and killing you?
I know not all are like that. I bet Wambui's husband wasn't either but look... How much can you really know someone? Lucky you if you notice his violent traits before he lays a hand on you and you escape unscathed. What about the 'silent killer'. Like Wambui's husband. One look at him and you wouldn't think him capable of such animosity.
I'd rather not know. Whether he'll be the kindest person on earth or whether I will smell his cruel nature from a mile away. No need. All the same.
Remember, however, that this post started with a prayer. I guess we (I) should just pray and pray without end that whoever God has in store for us is perfect in all ways a human being can be. I'm just full of double standards, no? Well, my choice would be not to be tied down to some man. Just get seed, conceive, give birth and live happily ever after. But I am my mother's daughter and my mother has taught me a lot. And I'd really love it if my father would walk me down the aisle, one day. Even if I'll be 40.
Anything to not be part of the statistic. Not to be found strangled in my bed by the man I gave my life to. Anything not to have a wall stained by my blood and 46 stab wounds in my body. Anything not to have my body buried in an unmarked grave beside some dusty road to Tigania. Anything not to have a bullet smartly between my eyes. All because I loved a man to whom all I was was a thing he owned. Anything not to have my head banged on the kitchen wall that I just painted. Anything. Anything to avoid the one day he will slap me because he had a bad day and I'm nagging him about the bills that have to be paid.
I have too much pride to lose it to a mere man.
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defend us in battle.
Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the Devil.
May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
and do thou,
O Prince of the heavenly hosts,
by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan,
and all the evil spirits,
who prowl about the world
seeking the ruin of souls.
Amen.
(Prayer to St. Michael the Archangel)
I got jet lag! Hee hee! Just got in from Mombasa, city of God. Back to my 'studio apartment' that I had apparently missed. Really wish I would've stayed home longer but gotta get back to school and what not. Nairobi is still he hell hole it's always bee. Mad traffic from here to waaaaay over theeeeeere! And there's a fuel shortage to top it off. Get why Mombasa is the city of God?
It's 1635hrs as I start to write this. Imogen Heap's 'Find Yourself' album playing in the background. You may know her track Hide and Seek that has been sampled by countless musicians. That's where the title of today's post comes from.
Are you wondering why I started this post with a prayer? The reason is because, dear reader, we need to pray without ceasing! This world just keeps handing us curve balls. They call it growing up but if this is what growing up means, I quit!
My mind has been on overdrive since last night. Couldn't wait for that plane to land so that I could get my fingers on this keyboard. Going round in circles, aren't I?
Yesterday afternoon was an otherwise ordinary one. Just chilling, enjoying the last day of my holiday with my sister (who has not yet given birth), watching a very useless show (read BBA Amplified) and just talking. We then get a call from mum informing us that Wambui had been killed by her husband.
Wambui Kabiru was a journalist. She worked for Ntv a while back. May she rest in peace and may perpetual light shine upon her.
We are what are usually called 'family friends'. Grew up in the same hood, went to the same church, raised by parents with common ideologies. Didn't talk to her much but my sister and I were close to her brother. Mum found out in the one o'clock news. She was shaken! So was dad. Appropriately so because you never imagine such tragedies can occur so close to home. I think what also got to them is that something like this could happen to one of their daughters.
Wambui's husband apparently strangled her to death and left her lying in bed for close to 12 hours. Icing on the cake, he called her parents and told them what he'd done.
I hope he is lying in a pool of his own blood somewhere where no-one will find him and that scavenger birds will feed on his dead flesh and after that his bones are ground to dust by a herd of elephants such that there will never be a trace of his existence in this world. (Breathe!)
Then again, I hope he he is caught (didn't tell you he's now missing, did I?) and justice is served. I should believe in innocent till proven guilty but I'm hanging my scholarly robes just for this case.
Brings me to my unanswered question; what's the point? Of marriage of course. Why bother choosing to stay with one man if all he's good for is hitting you and killing you?
I know not all are like that. I bet Wambui's husband wasn't either but look... How much can you really know someone? Lucky you if you notice his violent traits before he lays a hand on you and you escape unscathed. What about the 'silent killer'. Like Wambui's husband. One look at him and you wouldn't think him capable of such animosity.
I'd rather not know. Whether he'll be the kindest person on earth or whether I will smell his cruel nature from a mile away. No need. All the same.
Remember, however, that this post started with a prayer. I guess we (I) should just pray and pray without end that whoever God has in store for us is perfect in all ways a human being can be. I'm just full of double standards, no? Well, my choice would be not to be tied down to some man. Just get seed, conceive, give birth and live happily ever after. But I am my mother's daughter and my mother has taught me a lot. And I'd really love it if my father would walk me down the aisle, one day. Even if I'll be 40.
Anything to not be part of the statistic. Not to be found strangled in my bed by the man I gave my life to. Anything not to have a wall stained by my blood and 46 stab wounds in my body. Anything not to have my body buried in an unmarked grave beside some dusty road to Tigania. Anything not to have a bullet smartly between my eyes. All because I loved a man to whom all I was was a thing he owned. Anything not to have my head banged on the kitchen wall that I just painted. Anything. Anything to avoid the one day he will slap me because he had a bad day and I'm nagging him about the bills that have to be paid.
I have too much pride to lose it to a mere man.
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