I have loved, a worthy lover!

When love is not madness, it is not love. ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

I recently bumped into one of my favourite poets from the 19th century (Where?? on the streets stupid) and she defined love in a way I hadn't understood before:

Unless you can think, when the song is done,

No other is soft in the rhythm;

Unless you can feel, when left by One,

That all men else go with him;

Unless you can know, when unpraised by his breath,

That your beauty itself wants proving;

Unless you can swear "For life, for death!" -

Oh, fear to call it loving!

Unless you can muse in a crowd all day

On the absent face that fixed you;

Unless you can love, as the angels may,

With the breadth of heaven betwixt you;

Unless you can dream that his faith is fast,

Through behoving and unbehoving;

Unless you can die when the dream is past -

Oh, never call it loving!

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

This judicious definition took me back 4 months ago when I was so distraught over the loss of a man I had grown to call 'distant-lover'

Within me I search words to describe him by

But all I manage, is to cry

I go about my life as though he never existed

Though deep within, he never exited

I never loved another or 'felt' loved by another

so in sync as; he and I together

I will outgrow this someday, to myself I think

But no denying that I am weak

I will need the universe in its entirety at my aid

For I am and always will be afraid

To love, have, give, only to lose, hurt and pain

Unless it is him, that I fall for again

It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. With this I am content.

Golf Vs Rugby: Fortuitous Rendezvous II

Seated beside my date; bored to tears watching other people dance, Leo walked into the hostelry alone looking sizzling hot and not to mention lost (without me I like to think). I spotted him immediately, lit up like a fireball from hell and sprung to my feet to make sure I didn’t lose him.

He hadn't spotted me and I wasn’t about to wait for him to find me in the throng of half-clad ladies-of-the-town flinging themselves at him, so I quickly asked to introduce my date to “some guy” (yeah right!!). Alas, they know each other. “Of course they know each other, bloody little neighbourhood!”, I cursed out loud. Expectedly they sat together, displacing me and started to chat the night away like little school boys, meanwhile I couldn't take my eyes off Leo’s brawny build.

My date was an estimable character; a together young man, lucid and if I may add, a teetotaler- exactly the advert I would put up for a hubby and father of my children. Nevertheless, with a body blazing with undisclosed desires; a sturdy rugby player is the only promising fire-fighter in the room not a golfer with his gentle manners and gloves in tow. Sorry golfers, just saying it like it is (forget Tiger Woods, that is on a whole new level).

As time passed the golfer was getting uncomfortable with the explicit banter between us and like the gentleman he is decided to give us some room, excused himself and started towards the gents. I wanted to stop the madness but I couldn’t; I was utterly helpless and Leo was clearly determined to ruin it for me, not that I minded much. Instead of fighting a war I knew I wouldn’t win, I involuntarily resolved to take pleasure in every fraction of every second he was gazing into my eyes, talking to me, smiling with me and being all jealous.

At that point I had moved seats; I was kissing his clean shaven head (half-bald), playfully teasing him as I whispered into his ear. I was enjoying it so much that I didn’t care my date was a little (a lot) pissed and ready to leave. I didn’t care that we might not take our vacation to Egypt as planned and I didn’t care that I would have a lot of explaining to do… ALL I CARED WAS LEO and that he was motioning to me to plant a kiss on his cheek as my date helped me into my coat.

I would have kissed him anywhere and everywhere without his asking, except that was neither the place nor the time. I would have stayed behind and enjoyed the evening some more, but too much of Leo is without a doubt the death of me. I would have let my date leave without me, except for that night he was my date. I would have stayed and put out Leo’s fire, but my house was an inferno.

I couldn’t have let my date drive me home because he would have asked what that was about and I am sure I wouldn’t have had the correct answers for him. I needed to demystify it to myself first. It goes without saying; I had to get myself a cab, that way I would drive quietly, relive the night with Leo and his evil charm.

If ever there was a passion of my life, this would be the chap. I would never get married to him though, even if he proposed on a romantic candle-lit dinner in tight rugby shorts on a spacecraft, for the simple reason that we would kill each other in passions untold HA!

...or is that what I like to think?

To be continued.

LEONARDO: Fortuitous Rendezvous I

Forgive me reader for I have sinned, I have hidden an important element from you for quite some time now and if I don’t confess, it will kill me. Why did I hide it? Because I thought it was special, but then again some special seeming things turn out to be fiendishly attractive, special complications.

Sooo Leonardo and I met… not once, not twice but thrice since the last time I talked about him. Before you rush me to the gallows, let me explain: we didn’t plan it, the universe did HA! You know me, I go with the flow, I don’t plan a thing, I hardly think with my head; my notorious heart decides and does on my behalf, I could be in bed one minute and my heart would be in Lokichogio falling in-love fast with a stranger.

No, Leonardo is not in Loki and the reason I haven’t updated my blog is not because I have been busy moving to Loki. But so what if I moved? Ok, ok I hear you, enough beating around the bush:

I bumped into the guy at Sherlock’s Den -Nanyuki Mall.

2. He has a girlfriend

3. We had a series of unusually stimulating gazes and there was a lot of unnecessary touching with our hands (ON the table where everyone could see them.)

4. There were a lot of laughs as the drinks kept coming.

5. We were TIPSY (Totally Inebriated Plus Seriously in Yen) albeit sufficiently sober to keep our lips off each other. Whether we were trying to fool the curious onlookers or we were genuinely fighting temptation is however unclear.

6. We were waiting for our guys to arrive; his girlfriend (funny he didn’t feel the need to brag about her) and my golfer/ photographer well-behaved friend and mentor who has wanted to chips-funga me since Red cross-Meru back in 2009.

7. We discussed motorbikes (as expected) and I was mortified for the lies I had told at our first meeting… Yep I confessed, why? Because I’m not a –good- liar and I thought this would be special, who isn’t attracted to an honest gorgeous lass. Did I mention we have trust issues? I am mentioning now, serious ones.

8. He gave me his number this time (and I had nothing to do with it-a block of TRUST built right there.)

9. He never called… or maybe he did, but it never went through because I don’t live in Loki and Loki has fickle signal. (This is what I like to think. Why? Because I sorta want to believe there is something here.)

10. I never called… but once, with a hidden ID (Lame!! I know) I wanted to wish him a Happy New Year, he didn’t pick, phewks!

Things stayed that way and I gave up on us, completely forgot the jamaa and even dated other people. Months later…

To be continued in Part II of this series.

My clandestine Valentine

All I am saying at this stage is… there was a side-splitting play, lots of wine, a splendid sunset, floating away on a pond, great lighting, lots of small talk, a bit of walking, great art gallery with beautiful pieces to boot and right where I couldn't pronounce ‘silhouette’ was a straight out of the movie shut-up-and-kiss-me moment… whether it happened or not, is however irrelevant.

Now let’s jump to the after effects; I woke up the following morning to soundless music, the coffee mugs dancing on the shelves, pancakes swaying their hips on the pan and “um… um is my coffee SPEAKING to me?” Funny thing is, there was nothing telling in the silky morning air, but love was definitely laced on the sun rays piercing through the leaves of the enormous fig tree outside my kitchen window. As the warmth hit and spread throughout my face, I couldn’t ignore the images in the azure sky partially in hiding, images of a seraph thrilled by the sound of the Nyatiti playing “My moving home” in a dialect I couldn’t comprehend. The hilarity brought about by the costume-clad chaps under the bright lights of the stage tickled the Seraph much to my amusement and I never had such a lovely time watching a stranger laugh so hard, never.

This being is, easily the most fine-looking thing I have cast my eyes on in a long time, their laugh so gentle, stature so elegant, impeccable eloquence, exudes positive energy from every pore on their skin… incredibly erudite and did I mention that they look not a day older than 27 years but is as wise as a sage and as composed as a harp haha! (he is so beyond fine that I not only need the Englishmen to sit and create me an adjective for this person but also for Shakespeare to resurrect chap-chap for we have work to do!).

Unable to withstand the intensity and the blinding glow of the moment I turn away and smile with my heart albeit not furtive enough to cheat the woman in the kitchen busy brewing the coffee. Both the woman and the kettle are wearing a knowing smile, I can see their faces, the mischief, their asking lips twisted into a question that I am not ready to answer, no I will not dare say a word. For I have not the response. At this point, I take a swig of the dark fluid sitting motionless in my cup and resist the swallow if only to keep the secrets of the magic of the previous night from spilling.

Walking out hurriedly, index finger wagging behind me the woman in the kitchen is caught in a stutter “…I was just going to ask if you want some cream with that,” she lies out loud supporting her weight with the door frame. I can tell she is genuinely happy for me; she can’t thank heavens enough that I 'finally' healed the wounds of a disappointing and daunting past. She is holding back the excitement lest I slip back into the morbid habits of video games, slothfulness and suicidal imbibing. She blows me a warm kiss, full of a mother's affection , still I'm not telling.

The couch holds out its warm loving arms to receive my bony frame, he has been with me through the dark days of nursing a broken strange-muscle and I can tell he is over the moon that I didn’t walk in with a slab of cheese, a box of Kleenex and a bag of cheerios. The way he sinks back as my buttocks find a comfortable spot sounds more like a sigh of relief than anything else, I pat him gently and whisper, “It’s over buddy. The days of grief I mean.” I could swear I heard a muffled chuckle.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have got to stop right this minute before I jinx this any further and also because I need to pencil in lunch for coming weekend.

That would be all :-).

X-mass Attack!!

The typical me starts feeling X-massy in September, by October I have saved and shopped for gifts, by November whatever bookings that needed to be made have been made, recipes have been downloaded/ stolen, invites to partners in crime have been sent and mum has been briefed of my itinerary. Leaving nothing to chance, everything is set and ready to roll by 20th. That is how much I love X-mass.

That is why yesterday I was panicked and caught in a frenzy decided to call Santa... because I had a feeling, Daddey had dumped me. Okay, it was 21st of December and NOTHING was ready, I wasn't even ready; I definitely needed extension of time to patch things up and get my X-mass mojo back. See, I haven't been exceptionally good and I expected nothing less from Santa... clearly I had underestimated.

Me: ...ex-communication, really?? Santa, you have gone too far. Don't you think you are overreacting?

Santa: No No No!

Me: Even a little?

Santa: No No NO

Me: C'mon dude... could I have been worse than Lynne who kicked Jimmi out of her bed coz he was undergoing some post-traumatic stress you-know-where after they terminated his contract at work? or YY who has been having sex like a man? or Jumwa who is explicitly living and sexing 3 younger dudes in the name of sub-letting her bedrooms. C'mon sexy Santa, re-consider.

Santa: No No No

Me: You know what, you are a selfish imbecile and an overgrown baby in red diapers. If you are going to punish me for spinning out of control every weekend, with Mr.Alcohol and my life companion, then go ahead. But remember I am the one who never gave in to Mr. I-will-dump-my-girlfriend-as-soon-as-I-sleep-with-you, and I am still the one who (eventually) regained self restraint after flashing boobies on Skype a couple of times...

Santa: A couple????!!! Those were over **** times!! As far as I'm concerned it was a fully fledged scandalous affair with no limits whatsoever...

Me: Ok paps, lets not go into details... oh and never mind I was the one who got dropped from cloud-9 just when I was about to man-up and finally tell Funny boy how I actually felt.

Santa: Oh shut up!! You coward you... you were never going to and you know it.

Me: As I was saying, I am also a great albeit silent supporter of NO TO HOMO.... PHOBIA campaigns because I believe in ALL Human rights, and may I take this opportunity to say 'Good Job' to Muthoni Wanyeki the Executive Director KHCR and Esther Murugi, Special Programmes Minister for boldly stepping out to protect the rights of the minority. Forget my ulterior motive, at least Benjy and his boyfriend will (hopefully soon) comfortably kiss in the swimming pool and I can finally OPENLY brag about our shopping sprees...

Santa: Yeah yeah but whats in for me?

Me: um um... I will share their steamy fantasies with you Daddey :-)

Santa: Ho ho ho Brilliant! Not enough though, you need to commit at least 3 random acts of kindness before sun down if you want to have a proper X-mass.

Me: C'mon daddey...

Santa: No other way.

Me: DEAL!!

That is how I woke up with an X-mass attack, in high spirits, took a looooong shower (read extra 10 litres down the drain), helped eat (Not cook) pancakes and found myself being very kind to 3 beautiful girls who needed my help + I ordered lunch for me and the rabid HOT plumber. Talk of hitting three birds and a bonus with one stone! Seeing as the bible is very clear on; "let not the right hand know what the left does.." I am forbidden to narrate my acts of kindness, in other news though- Lunch was pepper Haat *wink*.

This festive season commit all sins, and most importantly commit a few random acts of kindness.

Merry X-mass to you and yours!!

PS: Remember, don't drink and drive accidents kill and don't drink and park accidents cause babies... just hail a cab :)

Nundies and Braless.

Since you ReAly want to know, i will tell you why i am not wearing any underwear tomollow ;).

So I was driving down the other day and picked up a hitchhiker, isn't that what you do when driving on a deserted road? at least in this part of the world it is. We would have driven on quietly like proper strangers, not disturbing each others peace but no, his chatty drunken mouth wouldn't let him. I didn't mind (much) coz i knew my tyres weren't so good and was sure as hell i would get a puncture. In the event that that happened i would need a pair of masculine arms to handle the jack (and what is that other stuff you need to fix a burst *starts to google*)

Half way and a very heated convo later (you know how it is when one party has imbibed a little too freely ) one thing led to another... it rained, my car got stuck and the possibility of spending the night in the bushes was imminent . The guy being a good samaritan (as they all are, until they are not ) helped to push but later demanded payment for services offered (??)

Now, 'scratch my back and i will scratch yours' is when you push a car that had given you a FREE ride and which is to later get you to your destination aka FARE, its there in the dictionary, look it up... next to Fcuk you. See when i refused to buy chai the pea-brained bushman decided to pay himself with my hard earned mbesha which he thought he'd get access to by stealing my shoulder bag, only my wallet wasn't there. Instead bugger got away with all my newly aquired under garments.

And that is the heartrending tale of how, after throwing out the tattered rags, I now have no knickers until the next time I see a shop (several days I'm afraid).

PS: Be wary of muggers eyeing your underwears this weekend. Deuces.

Saum Maqbul

So it’s a month-long of fasting for our Muslim brothers and sisters, I don’t have many of those which is a shame considering how culturally and religiously tolerant I am. The idea of fasting is very noble but a practice I cannot successfully uphold… the number of times I have fasted can be counted on my hand, among them: the two times I needed a miracle, to pass my end of year exams having done zero reading and to get a visa. Suffice it to say I made the deans list and Toronto had me for a guest… maybe I should fast more, hmmm maybe what I need is a fasting partner to make the going easier.

I know one sizzling-hot friend… and all I want to do is be the devil and tempt the sexy out. Yes I deserve hell-fire, I know!!!

Wish me luck!

How I was on holiday.

I hardly ever go on holiday,first because the ATM laughs when I ask for a loan second all the R&R itches. It’s a shame but I am the anxious kind that doesn’t sleep soundly unless it’s on my desk, pen in hand and head on the keyboard (feel free to confuse this with industriousness). I only remember two ‘successful’ vacations where I had fun: Camping in Naivasha because it was a convenient 3 days buzzing with activities; arrive on a Friday afternoon, peach tents and bond with team, work the following day, ditch team and party till dawn with strange campers (wild KQ flight attendants; very good memories of Ms.Martini-ed meeting Mr.Martin). Sunday: Mini-hike, sample great cuisines, shop for souvenirs, visit to the spa, take pictures and sleep all the way back home.

Shortest holiday ever, Mombasa ’08: footloose and fancy free, end of exams, nursing a breaking heart, blotto- 7 days straight! Between one Wednesday and the other I remember three things: Blinding music and blaring lights, drinks and tattoos, hookahs and BEEEEAACHHes + stolen moments. Only one negative thing: someone swapped my ATM card with a bagful of beachwear that I never wear!

Recently it so happened that I had a change of jobs (again), at my age and with a devil-may-care attitude occupation-status change before you can say Jack Robinson. Betwixt clearing from one and reporting for the other, a week of being glued-to-the-couch-purposeless emerged. To many this would be perfect time for a holiday and that’s why I welcomed it arms wide open. This time nothing from the Wild West, just I and Mr. Couch, a stack of movies, face-book, a real-book, PS, quick stop at the salon and lots of dessert (Thanks to all the celebrating Leos). Seriously, without desserts there would be darkness and chaos.

I had doubts I would last the week, but drinks with Steve, the twins’ birthday, Karaoke with Ben, endless phone convos with Tim (about his real vacation in Maui) made it bearable. Body is all rested -almost developing bed sores-mind is fresh, and morale is high.

Tomorrow it’s back to the grind and I am not too sad.

These words were mine.

After I started on this blog; about all the songs I know word for word, I had an after- thought: how lame is that, no one will ever read it, and then I got this inspired notion… all the lyrics I know by heart I know for a reason, never mind the magnitude. Some I fell in love to, some I broke my heart to, some I just memorized while others I want to play on my wedding day (If that ever happens. I took a quiz on facebook that said I’ll get hitched at forty, drat! The future is bleak.)
I always say what a hopeless-romantic I am and this article might just be the demo :D. The words in these lyrics were pulled right out of my mouth.

PS: I was too lazy to download the original lyrics so I just wrote them as they sound in my head.

This first song is how I want my husband to love me. Not that I am married or anything, though I have this WEIRD feeling that I will, one day (at forty or thereabout) to a handsome man of average height whose name will be Thompson. He will be an older man in his early 70s, hale and hearty , full of life, bursting with mirth, wise as a sage, sexy as fcuk and of Italian origin (hopefully, so I can name our daughter Italia, live in Italy and have lots of Tiramisu). How deluded I must sound :)
Give it up for, Brad Paisely with “Then” or I thought I loved you then (!?)

I remember trying not to stare the night that I first I met you/ you had me mesmerized
And three weeks later on the front poach light/ taking 45 minutes to kiss goodnight
I hadn’t told you: that I thought I loved you then

Now you are my whole life/ now you are my whole world
I just can’t believe, the way I feel about you girl
Like a river meets the sea, stronger than it’s ever been
We’ve come so far since that day and I thought I loved you then

I remember taking you back to right where I first met you/ you were so surprised
There were people around but I didn’t care/I got down on one knee right there
And once again I thought I loved you then

I can just see you with a baby on the way/ I can just see you when your hair is turning grey
What I can’t see is how I’m ever gonna love you more/ But I have said that before
We’ll look back some day at this moment that we are in and I’ll look at you and say:
And I thought I loved you then.
********************************
At least every little girl I know has that little neighbor boy Keeve or Nash or Nazeel or Baus or Robin or Fidel who made her little heart thump fast, the one you couldn’t explain what you felt for coz they pushed you hard to the ground and ignored you all in the name of love. Yes the one you’d never admit to liking and would go to great pains to stay away from lest the entire class/ neighborhood started on the dreaded never-ending chorus “Stacy has a boyfriend”. The one who would make you run for the school bus to catch the seat next to his favorite so your hands would touch every time the driver hit the brakes.

With time these little boys grow up, Nazeel turns out to be that local drug dealer that no mother wants near their children and you wipe your brow and say “phewks, dodged bullet.” Baus being Baus and Hindu becomes very hard to relate to, what with everyone prophesying how you’ll never be married let alone live happily ever after. Inside, you’re glad he has a spine and is willing to fight for your love but slowly he folds along conventional lines and while at some far off boarding school ditches you for a certain Punjab girl. You are pleased to hear they didn’t last long.

Keeve turns out to be that asshole that sent you that ONE love letter in high school, poem in tow, professing his undying love only to hear that Madea and Lornah got copies as well, how special!

Fidel doesn’t get much of an education and ends up in the police department. You thank your lucky stars for his lack of ambition when you are charged with a DUI and he comes to your rescue. At the next ‘babes gone wild’ you offer to be the designated drunk driver. Isn’t that what friends are for?

Robin, the one who got away, matures into the typical knight in shining Armani but disappears into thin air right before you lay your hands on him, no one knows his whereabouts and neither facebook nor the obituaries can confirm his existence.
This following song captures the air around my Nash who grew up to be this genius of a guy and even though it didn’t quite work out, I like how warm and electric it feels when we meet.

Love story by Taylor Swift
…See you make your way through the crowd and say hello
Little did I know that you were Romeo
You were throwing pebbles and my daddy said stay away from Juliet
And I was crying on the staircase begging you please don’t go
And I say Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone
I’ll be waiting, all we got to do is run
You’ll be the prince and I’ll be the princess
This is a love story baibe just say yes.

I got tired of waiting wondering if you were ever coming around
My faith in you was fading, when I met you on the outskirts of town
And I said Romeo save me I’ve been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you but you never come
Is this in my head, I know what you’re thinking knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring and said
Marry me Juliet you never have to be alone I love you and that’s all I really know
I talked to your dad go pick out a white dress this is a love story baibe just say yes.
**** Cont'd...

The Monday that killed the weekend.

I have on my coffee table a 200pg report that needs not only to be read and understood but also to be analyzed. On my desktop sits a folder full of raw information begging to be thoroughly read, organized and summarized into a 3 page dossier on a subject I would normally care less about (Anthrax). On my office desk at work lays a 13page report needing to be typed by yours truly. Strewn on my dirty beige carpet are newspaper clippings of job-adverts with just around the corner deadlines. Somewhere on this couch, trapped between my bony bottom and the cushion is my mobile phone incessantly buzzing and trilling; messages to be replied, phone calls to be returned , emails to be read and reminders either to do this or that. On my kitchen table is a pile of bills all calling for some kind of attention which I can’t look into right now because as you may well know bills come in before the check from your employer. Why is that anyway? I’m sure the universe has an explanation.


All of the above messy shyt needs to be sorted by Monday; that is the day after tomorrow and that is also why I am home at 10a.m, in pajamas on a bright sunny Saturday! Normally, I would be out riding in an old, small but amazing Suzuki with my new friend Chuck (who thinks driving at 140kph on a wet road without safety belts is pretty adventurous- I agree) or out in the market trying my hand at the grocery business or whatever it is organized people do over the weekend. However, its urgent that I put my life together or soon you’ll be hearing from an in-between-jobs-30-year-old who lives with her mother!


Procrastination is one of my numerous impediments to a joyous weekend and the reason I have the 200pg report I borrowed from a private library 2 weeks ago in order to be well prepared for an assignment coming up soon and probably the reason I am writing this unimpressive article just to avoid looking into the report. I need to be well read not so much because I love working on projects I know nothing about but because I need the remuneration to offset the above mentioned bills. That I am jobless is the reason I am unable to pay my bills and the reason you will read this and other articles long after they were written seeing as my internet connection was recently disconnected (just incase you were wondering, it was a staggering amount, that my monthly allowance couldn’t easily offset).


Regarding the 13pg typing job; this is my lame attempt at being likeable at the office so I take up the typing job though I know I’ll be unable to finish it because I am already swamped. Why I would do that is because I am aiming at Intern-of-the-year award, we are talking future prospects. What are the chances they will miss me after I am gone? Miss me so much that when I throw in an application for a job the boss will rule in favour of, yes, me! Ok that is my game plan, which officially renders me a buttpecker! No other way.


So now to the 3pg-Anthrax-dosier, well, that is supposed to sort out another aspect of my life which I tend to ignore but is equally important seeing as I don’t want to end up as the old-cat-lady who left ALL her wealth (don’t forget hard earned from a successful career) to her 67 assortment of cats (I hate cats and reptiles, mostly reptiles). Well, not a single dime to charity because she is bitter at her choices; strange how this epiphany comes at a point where she can do absolutely nothing to the situation! Ok, back to the point, Anthrax! I mean Chuck, this nice awesome guy I met a while ago, and I know I said he is my friend but that’s what he thinks I have a different strategy. Don’t give me that look; it’s hard to find love. Sometimes it calls for one to create a situation for love to happen. Shoot! Now I sound like the women who trap men, whatever! Story for another day.


And that brings us to the abrupt and untimely end of this funeral, R.I.P Mr.This Weekend, you will be missed. Hope to catch your bro Mr. Next Weekend, I have a good feeling *wink*.

Ps: This post was unearthed from my offline blog. Dated October 24th 2009. FYI: I have become more organised (the magic, as i found out is not in being less engaged, it is in not procrastinating) and Chuck turned out to be sadly, a JERK! yeah.

Let's get retarded.

Only a retard would think like this!


See they always tell you to be and think positive, about everything whether good or bad. So for a long time it was hard for me to do the positive thing and I would wallow in self pity for days on end with absolutely no effort to pick myself up. Over the years though, I met people who have marveled me with their almost miraculous ability to bring themselves up even after life-changing things happen to them. While I was busy being there for them mopping and being sad, they were lifting their spirits and turning their misery around. In no time I was the one caught up in their past while they had long moved on (how ironical). In the recent past quite a number of things have gone awry (so much for being a staunch control freak) and in the process shook a lot of things I have based my faith and basically my whole life on. Normally when such things happen you kinda get depressed and become a loser or you take what life throws at you and make lemonade as they put it.

This time round, instead of slipping into depression I decided to try this positive approach/law of attraction thingy just to see if it works and prove them wrong, so I told myself. Truth is I was desperate for anything that would make it better and from my interaction with people I knew better than to allow myself to sink into the deep seas of misery. Let’s take a look at how it worked for me:

Were it not for the strike that my university had, I would not have been home for four months looking for attachment/internship, I would never have gone to the many firms I went to job hunting only for them to decline my request prompting me to seek work at this other org which I was sure would never have taken me in since it was a satellite office working on a new project that I knew absolutely nothing about. *breathe* As you may have gathered, after a few cancelled meetings I was able to get in-touch with some fellow from the office who felt his docket could use an assistant and that is how I landed my internship.

It later turned out that the guy who helped me get my internship did not do it in accordance to the laid down procedure and was thus at loggerheads with the overall boss leading to my state of uncertainty which also made me push my alleged supervisor to formalize my internship or else I would just quit (not like that would in anyway affect him but it felt good to let him know that I will not be used; not to say he wasn’t using me already). Him taking his sweet time to sort out the issue led me into doing some other application which led me to some office which I was later so grateful I went to, not that I got the job but I sort of scored in another area of my life that needed a little fixing so to speak, I have been single for the past two years! If that doesn’t qualify for/as chronic singlehood I don’t know what does!

I guess what I’m trying to say is; I ‘think’ I met a guy who is making me very happy! No details, besides the fact that we are taking it slow and that it feels really good to have someone I can talk to and who most importantly thinks I am funny. I might have not mentioned this before but I am very insecure about what people think about me, big problem if they think I am not funny! What good am I if I can’t make you laugh? My stint as the entertainment captain/comedian in high school is definitely to blame. Anyone who doesn’t laugh at my jokes is perceived as an unpleasant authority, courtesy of my dad who thinks my kind of funny is rather unfunny, oh well, he doesn’t know what he is missing. Whatever happened in his childhood to make him that way is beyond me.

Ps: I dug out this blog from my archived- offline blogs. It was dated, July 2009. 8 months down the line and he still laughs at my jokes, FYI.