Reasons Why Romance Sucks!

I am sooo sleepy! I would be okay with the situation if it was my fault i.e, I slept late or woke up early. It’s not even Coco’s fault (my dog) who woke me up first at 1 a.m because she wanted to play or later on in the wee hours of the morning because she was chasing some weird insect around the room. It’s not that I was worried about Bunny (my other dog) who had sprained her ankle last night.

Nope. Only one think kept me awake last night. Just one thought; He likes me back!!!!

When I first heard, I had a New York traffic jam moment in my head where I jumped on top of a cab and shouted “He Likes Me!!!!He really likes me!!” I guess I should have been and should be happy but the only thing I am right now is Apprehensive.

I am a worrier, I accept. I think things through so much, that by the next day, I can’t tell which side is up! So out of that frustration, I write this…

REASONS WHY ROMANCE SUCKS!!!!

1. I don’t think romance and sleep can abide in the same room. Half the night was spent in coming up with various pros and cons as well as ‘what if ‘ scenarios. There are too many ‘what if’s. I even woke up before my “you-have-15-more-minutes-to-sleep” alarm. Why ever would I do that?!

2. Romance and sense? In the same sentence? I don’t think so! It’s like someone just takes  a big spoon and korogas your gray matter thoroughly!!!

3. The thoughts that consume a girl ( I don’t know about you guys) are enough to drive anyone up a wall. Ask any girl whose friend has just developed feelings towards Mr. X and confides in her about what she is going through. It’s crazy!!! It’s all they talk about. And it reaches a point that any time that topic is broached all you here is the incessant, irritating buzz of a mosquito.

4. Then of course there is that difference as you stare at yourself in the mirror. He likes that? Really? Or maybe I should try something different. Something that is more …blah blah blah. The self babble goes on.

As you can imagine, I feel like such a mess right now. I wouldn’t like to see him any time soon lest I get a worse strain of this disease. IT’S HORRIBLE!!( *sigh* I wouldn’t trade it for anything).

Those who know me and are reading this post have an evil grin plastered on their faces because I swore never to be slain by cupid and his evil minions. Guys, let me just say that I am yet to fall. Just because I am tripping, doesn’t necessarily mean I will  fall. ( God, please hear my prayer).

But, if I do fall, I’ll need all the help I can get. I don’t want to flow into the cycle of how Kenyans, and quite frankly the whole world , view dating. That would be a disaster in my case. I won’t deny that all those fairy tales from when I was younger contributed heavily to my beliefs. Nor will I deny that I am a hopeless romantic ( shhhh…don’t tell anyone). And an idealist, no doubt.

So I stand by my belief and hereby vow never  ever ever ever ever ever ever to kiss a frog ( those hideous things! UGH!!)

 

Advertisements

A New Line of Vision

I am doomed to fidgeting and feeling self-conscious the whole day, worried that people may think I got dressed in the dark. Which I did. But no one needs to know that ….(I just have to steal Doofenschmirtz line… “Curse you KPLC!!”) I would have expected so much more from Engineer Njoroge, MD,  who publicly claimed to be my Sister.Engineer, what kind of sisterhood is this now? …Its a long story that involves high school, a long speech and a certain BOG chairman.

I have been having the squints for a while now so when I decided to go to the doc, I was thrilled when they realized there was actually something wrong!!!!( If you are an avid follower of Bones, the series, You know squints refer to those sciency-geeky guys….but not in this case. ) #crickets#….  Okay! Fine, I admit it!! I am one of those people who when giving directions tell you”You take a turn at that road then you’ll see a fruit cart and a road to your left. Don’t take that one. Take the one before it….” 

Why should I be thrilled I have a problem with my eyes? Because it proves I was right.And that I wasn’t exaggerating. YAY!

So here is the story; I was the last born for like 7 years and boy did I act it!! There was  a time I woke up late for Saturday morning cartoons, just in time to see the credits rolling. 3-year-old me, standing in my nightgown still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, started to cry. I went to the kitchen where mum was and said ” Mum!! *sob* Lucy na Mercy wamenimalizia cartoon!!!!” They never let me forget it…at least i got an extra hotdog for breakfast that day :).

Point is, I was a pro at exaggerating. Problem was i never got too many chances at it ( Curse you Immune system!!!”) But when I did, I’d stretch it as much as I could. It was a phase in my life that soon came to pass after I got my super powers ( I’m Never-Gonna-Get -Sick-But-If-I-Do-No-Biggie-I’ll-Just-Act-Like-Am-Not).

Then in High School, I had a slight case of Hypochondria-the  nurse and I were good friends 🙂 Back to the matter at hand, I have always wanted glasses so I could get ‘the look’. You know, the ‘I-Mean-Business’ look.The “You-Really-Don’t-Want-To-Mess-With-Me” look. The..okay, I’ll stop.

Well, I AM HEREBY BE-SPECTACLED!!As of yesterday, I perch a pair of glasses on my nose. Only Mum, the doc and guys at the office know! Oh and V..helped me pick out the frames. The fb pick back-fired so…that’s that.

No one mentions the irritation on your nose as you wear spectacles !!! Or how it bites into your ears! Or how when you walk on the street it feels like your going to fall cause the side-walk is slanted!!

On the flip side, I got ‘The Look” , I get to give people the condescending stare over the top of my glasses!!! And every time I push the glasses up my nose, I look like am doing something super important. 

I also get to do the thoughtful pose of nibbling on one of the tips..hmmm…

At least the headaches are gone…now it is specific parts of my head that hurt.:/

How Bourgeois!!

Anytime I go shopping, I look for  stuff that have one particular characteristic; that of being unique. And even in life, I try not to be like “everyone else”, choosing instead to go against the flow. I hate clichés. Saying them makes me feel all rubbery inside because I feel like I have stolen something and somehow become normal.

As a kid, it was much worse. I kept on waiting for my super powers to manifest themselves. There was a time I was totally convinced I had blue-green blood ( like the movie that used to come in KBC) and you would not believe how hard I would try to listen to people’s thoughts( that, I believed,  was my intended super power). With time came maturity…then I thought I was a human lie-detector. (Lie to me ;))

I was obsessed!!!! When other guys were using I-don’t-know Hb pencils, I bought mine from Nawal Centre( …) When we were told to use fountain pens, I had a parker pen:).

Anyway, life happens and when it does, you realize it happened to some people before it happened to you. Thus, everything you do seems to be cliché. I learned that the hard way. When someone I knew died, I had a difficult time grieving because I had all these images in my head of how people reacted in such a situation, and I was reacting the same way. I hated that. I wanted to be myself. Meaning, react in my own kind of way rather than what is usually done or considered right in such a situation.

When I start falling for a guy and all these emotions feel so normal, so common…I rarely tell anyone. Because at that moment, i feel so human. Terrible, right? It sucks to find out that you are just like everyone else. Even worse, when you fall under the spell of some guy that you know half the country adores (“puuuhhhleassse!!!! I would never sink myself to that level” you tell your friends, knowing full well you are nuts about the guy).

Whether I want to believe it or not, I am normal. I am just like everyone else. Death is an inevitable part of life. Grief is an emotion that can be expressed in it’s own way but the main point is, it must be expressed. As to love, it lives as long as we breathe. Of course, we are all individuals, each with our own different personalities. But our humanity draws us together, making us one people.

What remains, is to stop looking around on what others are doing, what has been done and to figure out what I myself can and will do. I guess the worst thing about clichés is that you know how they will end. Unless, of course, things pan out differently. Anything is possible.

In this cliché that is my life, I don’t want to predict it. Because then I’ll try to make it into something that in my opinion ‘ought to happen’ rather than what God meant it to be. The difficulty comes in play at the point where I have to let go and trust Him completely. After all, He sees the whole picture in  perfect clarity whereas what we see is just the blur of today and tomorrow.

I Digress

You know how a situation seems to take up all your time as you think about it and rethink about it? Well, I don’t need that right now. Truth is, it will do me no good at all, and might just end up damaging a potential relationship. But I’ve said too much already. I’ll just have to wait for the next few days to see how things go. In the mean time, I’ll have to keep myself busy…

Thus far, my day feels so weird! I was up late baking my sister  a cake (HBD L!!!!) thanks to Mum and her superb skills of taking me on a guilt trip. So I ended up waking up late. Here is what usually happens :

5.10: Mum calls me. I decline the call# at least I know it’s morning# and resume sleeping.

5.20: I open the door for the help ( it’s actually more like give her the keys) then go back to bed ( the key to a successful trip in and out of bed while still holding on to sleep is partially opening your eyes. Never fully)

5.30: My alarm goes off. Now, this isn’t my ‘it’s time to wake up’ alarm. No. It’s my ‘you have fifteen more minutes to sleep’ alarm.

So, today, like clock work, Mum called, a few minutes later, I gave the keys to the help, a few minutes later, my alarm went off. But guess who woke up at 6.12 to find my mother saying “Leo unapanda matatu”?

I’m not a morning person! Sometimes, it takes me four hours to even utter a word.m So the thought of me walking to the main road, waiting for God knows how long for a mat that will  most likely be fully packed, forcing me to either stand or squeeze in next to someone who does not even own a stick of deodorant, before boarding another mat in the nearest town to Mombasa then walk to my office was not part of the question.

Needless to say, I was fully dressed at 6.30, with my nails done ;). Okay, so I  missed breakfast, boo hoo! At least I made it out of the shower without another encounter with a frog like yesterday #ugh#. It was twenty minutes into the drive to work that I began to feel a semblance of being fully awake and it came in the form of a throbbing headache and squinting eyes. I took care of the headache but am still squinting :/

It’s been quite a while since I last blogged or rather, since I last published a post. I have been writing it’s just that I kept on hitting delete afterward. Truth is, I hate putting my heart out there. It always makes me feel so exposed and known.  I like it when people don’t know too much about me. But there is always a point where all you want is  someone who knows you so well such all you have to do is say that that one word and the other person understands exactly what you are saying.

So i sit in front of the computer, freezing. It’s either Mombasa is cold, or I am sick. I prefer the latter because then I can skip work 🙂

I Cry Bloody Murder!!

Those eyes that linger, those eyes that pry,

Those eyes that follow me as I pass by,

Those eyes shameless in their perusal,

Those eyes not harmless , on my skin I bear their bruise,

Those eyes that make me feel anything but human,

Those eyes that threaten of something inhuman,

Those eyes that shine with keen interest,

Those eyes that make my skin crawl as if with insects,

Those eyes that bring bile to my mouth,

Those eyes that make my fists tremble in loath,

Those eyes were the last thing she saw as he killed her,

Those eyes she still sees, but she is just a shell, dead on the inside,

Those eyes that kill her each day,

Those eyes, take a little more from her everyday,

Those eyes, break her down to a thing,to nothing.

Them days…

Today marks one month into my blogging! I won’t lie, I am kind of surprised that I have lasted so long  but I guess that just goes to show how much I had not been saying that I should have been saying because now that I am saying it I am way better off, you follow? So, ‘Yay!! It’s been a month!’ day to you too…

I went to boarding school when I was twelve and, believe me, it was not because of my lack of trying. Since I was in class 3, I left for the holidays saying bye to my friends and teachers  because ati I wouldn’t be coming back…then I kept on showing up the next term .#how embarrassing# . When I finally transferred, I didn’t whisper a word of it to anyone, in case I jinx it.

My sister repeatedly warned me not to go but si I’m a Kichwa -ngumu?! And so, nikajipelekesha Busara Forest View Academy (although there is not much of a forest to view anymore ).

BFVA was not even a national school, it was inter-national! In other words, we had like 5 guys from TZ. The year prior to my joining, the K.C.P.E results were like the best in the country (i think) Well, we had the  two top students. As you can imagine, intake ya the following year was really insane, and I just happened to be part of that lot ( note: I had been planning to go for 3 years so I should not be classed among those kids who went just because the school had pitaad )

BFVA, to us, was like a Juvenile Institution masquerading as a School. Instead of guards with guns, we had teachers with canes that varied with their creativity. We ran everywhere we went, not jogged. In fact, we sprinted.  Then, the school was in the middle of nowhere! So escape was out of  the question . But we thought about it A LOT! I could personally never memorize the way to the closest town, even after 3 years. That first night, a girl was so homesick, she bebanaad with all her luggage (inclusive of the infamous metallic box) to the gate, demanding the watchman to let her go out of the compound! That didn’t work but I don’t recall her coming back to school the next term…

There are so many things to say about my time at Busach… Yep! we were that shady…but I’ll try to stick to the highlights. Such  as a certain interesting habit we had… At breakfast, we used to kula like a quarter a loaf each and get out of the dining hall feeling hungry!!( I don’t know what kind of monsters we were either). And it was the same with all other meals.So during the holidays, half-term included, we would head home and kula kiujinga!!! By the time you go back to school, you barely fit into your uniform! But, a week into the school term, you turn into a human hanger…

Even on those visiting days, feasts were brought and trust me, nothing went back. Guys would kula until they were full, then some would walk or run around the field before going back for round two…some would actually make themselves puke just to ongeza space!! of course haikuisha, so guys ended up smuggling them in. The preferred means was with an anorak for stuff like gum, chocolate but if you were bright like me, you would get mum to carry it into the dorms in her handbag 🙂 Now, those who did heavy-duty smuggling hid them in the roof of the class room and one very insane fellow even burying a whole bag of chakula in the field ….enyewe guys were obsessed with food !!!! Come to think of it, that might have been the only thing to keep us sane, because as long as you had grab hidden somewhere, you were making a teacher somewhere a big a fool. But honestly, did they think one day a kamafia group would form and make its way to the Principal’s office and say “Put your hands in the air!! We have sausages, and we’re not afraid to eat them?!?!?!” or just walk into the teachers’ lounge and say “Everybody, down on the floor! We have chocolate. If you move, we’ll eat it!?”

My first beating was 3 days into BFVA. Apparently all the books had fikiad the teacher late except the class prefect’s. (butdoisay) . The t.a started of with a speech on doing what is right blah blah…then he just reaches into his jacket and pulls out a plastic hanger, trimmed into a ‘stick’!!!!!! I cried because by then I hadn’t known the code: Never cry in front of a teacher. Never give them the satisfaction of knowing that they hurt you. You would rather wait until they exit. Thus, every time guys were to be beaten, we would make it as fun as possible.

Lucky for me, in class 8, I started getting panic attacks so I always used to hepa. One thing about panic attacks…its very easy to fake and induce a real one 😉

A Million Fairy Tales and one glimpse of Reality Later

Once upon a time there was a girl, once upon a time I was that girl,

Once upon a time is a long time ago, and in that time life happened.

That girl  was naive, untainted by realities scorn,

But that girl had a dream,  she lived each day hoping it would come true.

That girl met a boy, once upon a time, that boy was you,

And in that moment, she felt it in her bones, she knew it in her innermost being,

Her dream was coming true.

It seemed that her dream had been drafted into her life script , and she revelled in every minute of it,

You will never know how her heart beat, how her hands shook,

You will never know how hard it was to breathe, let alone make decent conversation,

You will never know of the night she couldn’t sleep, bulldozed out of sleep by the wretched thoughts of you,

You will never know how she cried, not out of pain nor joy, but fear,

Fear of the tumultuous emotions that had overtaken  every sane thought she possessed,

You will never know that you changed her life, of this, she thought was the beginning, poor girl,

Her eyes affixed on you, she forgot to watch her step, glancing down just when one foot was over the edge,

What was to be a “happily ever after” ended up being a “question never answered” ,

That girl never knew what happened, neither does this one,

Thoughts stained her mind, she imagined all things possible and even those impossible,Then frustration set in,

Finally she let go.

That’s where I come in.

That girl is in my past, somewhere, but  she is still a part of who I am today,

She will never firmly rest in my past until she achieves closure.

I don’t know you, I doubt that girl ever did,

but if there is any chance you too are caught in the past as I am,

You are reading this.

Set us both free to continue with our separate lives.

You know what to do.