Something’s wrong. Something’s ….different. I search for it in the mirror but I can’t seem to point it out. But those eyes… they hide a secret within their depth. I look deeper but they stare back blankly.

My skin feels foreign. Its not mine anymore. Its a suit I wear so that they think… I don’t know what they think. But I wear it all the same. They laugh with the suit and I feel pulled away from it all. I want to tell them, I start to tell them,but the words get stuck in my throat.
My heart? I don’t know what could be the matter with it, doctor. Its not right!! It does not beat as it used to. Its like it skipped a beat and proceeded off kilter. Its rhythm is distorted. Can you fix me, doctor? Can you make my heart beat right again?

Words fall from my lips in a jumble of incomprehensible jargon. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time. It doesn’t feel like me saying it! I don’t know what to do! The words boil within me looking, waiting for release, getting hotter still. But they don’t want to talk to me anymore. Its the suit they want.
Doctor, help me. I’m not me anymore.



Anyone Know Where the ‘Pause’button is? ANYONE?!

Picture this; a deer in the headlights. Deer= me. Huge blaring truck= EXAMS. Its that millisecond when the deer (me) is frozen looking right into the lights thinking, “That’s a truck. Hmmm… I wonder if its the same one that killed Bambi’s uncle. That kid had bad luck…. wait,  its coming right at me!!!! ”

I’m really trying to inspire the fear that will have me poring over my books but for some reason, it ain’t happenin’.  So far, I’ve:-
(1)watched 3 hours of telly (2)spent about an hour trying to get the DVD player back on when it did it’s annoying blinking game
(3)played two games of spider solitaire (lost the first game, won the second )
(4) swept the house
(5)used the webcam as my mirror for about 20 minutes
(6)spent an aggregate of 20 minutes making snacks

Oh yea, I kinda read (not really). Did I mention spacing out and thinking of something to blog about?! That too!! And that exams are on Monday.
(I wonder if other guys are reading ? )

And when KPLC, in its infinite wisdom, deprives me of electricity, (probably thinking that getting rid of my distractions will do the trick), I blog!

To be honest, I feel like I’ve been stuck in the headlights for a while now ( disregard above equation ). It feels like everyone is doing SOMETHING. Everyone is going SOMEWHERE. Everyone is meeting SOMEONE. And then there’s little ‘ol me just going to law school. I sit in class and listen to people sound all smartical and think “wow!I want her/him to be my lawyer.” Then people rush out of class and I wonder,”where are you going? ” and I wish I had somewhere to rush to.

Everyone is being someone. They’re all aiming at Something.   
It’s like being in the CBD on a Friday evening at the end of the month; everyone is on the street, going in all the directions and you’re just trying to push your way through. But then there are these rude persona non grata who can’t seem to see you ( despite the fact that your not that short, and don’t be telling me that 5 ft tall is, cause I ain’t hearing none of that ) and keep running into you. Only now, they keep jostling you until you don’t know which side is which . No matter how much you put up a fight, you can’t seem to get away so you decide to just stand still. Only then do you realize you’re in the middle of a road and a truck is coming right at you.
What are you going to do?        

**oooh! Lights are back :)***

Happily Never After

The train of her black gown
trailed softly behind her. The room droned with chatter and the polite meeting of cutlery and crockery. They paid her no mind as she made her way to the dais and she didn’t fault them for it. Engrossed in conversation or the contents of their plates, the evening’s patrons were the usual clientele; the ones who wouldn’t mind giving an extra coin to impress their dinner date.

They paid for ambience. They paid for understated style. They paid for the waiter’s shirt to be a little whiter, for his English to go past the kindergarten ‘Jambo’. They paid for the lights to be a little dimmer and for a candle to light the space between their laughing gazes. They paid for her.

Yes, her. She, in the black gown that kissed every curve, scheming over the contours of her body. They paid for the red rose at her ear,where her upswept hair was held in a neat bun. They paid for her blood red lips, but most of all, they paid for her voice.

Carl, the night’s pianist, played a smooth ballad on the keys, the music, a perfect backdrop to titillating chatter. He nodded politely as she approached and blew her a kiss without missing a beat of the bluesy sonata. She smiled. Carl always made her smile. At 68, he’d been entertaining since way before she was born. She didn’t know how he did it!! Night after night his fingers danced across the keys, creating a masterpiece but no one even raised a head to see the man behind the music. Carl was the reason she still did what she did. Sometimes, she would glance behind in the middle of a song to catch a glimpse of his encouraging eyes just to go on.
Carl had listening eyes. Sometimes she thought he could hear what she wasn’t saying.

Carl played the last notes with flair, plunging the restaurant into the curse of silence. Uncertain eyes sought the dais, as though robbed of the cloak that had covered the torn fabric of awkward silence.

She held the microphone stand with both her hands, feeling the familiar unease of nerves in her belly. She took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. She knew of artists who pictured the audience naked so as to gain confidence, but she didn’t have to do that. All she had to do was see them for who they really were.

She saw the man at the corner who glanced at his watch every five minutes. She saw him pull a blue box from his jacket and look into it’s contents before putting it back in the left-side pocket of his jacket.
She saw the couple who couldn’t seem to stop smiling into each others eyes. She saw the elderly couple sharing a table with a younger couple. She envied the glow on their faces.

Carl and the band fused their magic into the introduction and then… her lips parted.

Carl watched as conversation died down . He watched as everyone turned to listen to the source of that captivating sound. Night after night, he watched them be mesmerized by her voice. Her voice had a somber quality that begged all within earshot to listen. But it wasn’t just her voice that enthralled them. It was her. How she poured her heart into the song.
She didn’t just tell a story of love and loss but in that moment, she lived it. As the words of pain passed through her lips, Carl mused over what kind of man couldn’t see her for the gem she was.

She told them the story that was familiar to everyone. The story of love and loss and loss of love. But that night, that was her song. Her story. She would not get to tell him, so she told them. She closed her eyes and saw his face but when she opened them, she saw them. She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes as she sang the last line. It
was over before it even began.

Introducing You to Me

Hey you!

I need to talk to you. Well, ‘need’ kind of makes me out to be desperate- which I’m not! Me? Desperate? No way! I’m actually meeting someone today in fact and it’s a special someone, if you know what i mean. So ‘desperate’ is no way to describe me. Nope, not me. No way. I’m… Uhm… anyway, I want to talk to you.

Do you know me? Probably not. I don’t even know why I asked that! Well, I actually have a question -more like questions to ask you.

First , what is your name? You must agree that ‘you’ comes off as being more rude than anything else. Not that I’m curious or anything. I could do without knowing! Its not like I talk about you and its not like I’m tired of calling you ‘him’ in my mind. Its purely for your sake. The logic is quite clear! You understand that, don’t you?

Would you think me a stalker if I said that I’ve been watching you?
Ok ,that came out wrong! What I meant to say is ‘would you think me a stalker if I said I’ve noticed you?
Why? I don’t know. I wish I did because it would really make me sound more sane. All I can say is that … you’ve caught my attention.

Would you think me a fool if I said that every time we cross paths, there seems to be a moment?
Guilty, I’m a hopeless romantic, but tell me it wasn’t all in my head!
Tell me that you also feel the pull to look up without really knowing why, until our eyes meet. Is it my imagination or do you hold my gaze in a silent dance? Am I the only one who feels time slow? Do you also forget what you were saying and is the only thought in your head a contemplative “hmm”?

I know words have never passed between us and there seems to be no place where our worlds intersect  but still, I wonder… have you seen me?
Or am I just a blur in a sea of a thousand faces?
I see you. I don’t know you. But I see you.

I know there’s a huge chance I’m setting myself up for embarrassment and pain, but I have to ask! It doesn’t even have to do with the fact that its the 21st century and its no longer upto the guy to make the first move. Although, I would be lying of I said I didn’t have a feminist bone in me. About 206 of them, to be exact.     
I’ve kept you long enough and I need to be getting on my way. Unless, of course, you want to hang out, or something. You know, no big deal.I’m cool either way. Cool. I’m cool.

I should go before I say something else I will regret. I just wanted to say, “Hey, my name is Mwende.”

One of these days…

I have a name 🙂 🙂