Stop talking while I make love to you

Yeah, I said it… some people just need to keep quiet…really.

My brother, for one. He obviously didn’t read that bit in the Desiderata about the peace there is to be had in silence….the boy can chirp away for ever…but I forgive him, he’s 9. It’s adults that just grind my gears entertain me to no end.

Like the guy who walked up to me at the bus stop and proceeded to involve me in a wondrously beautiful conversation that consisted of one party…the other was reading Turgenev’s ‘Fathers and Sons’. Yes, it is a nice book, and no, I’m not trying to impress you with that party’s literary accomplishments. He he he… That was supremely edifying… should put it down as one of those ‘Day to remember’ composition candidates (for when I’m bereft of ideas….Yes, it happens to the best of us *slaps forehead as she realises her modesty has disappeared….again…*) I seem to attract such interesting guys…price I pay for having a pure, innocent face.

Aii, stop waiting for the blog title to meet the blog (I mean if ‘When rubber meets the road’ could be a Firestone slogan, humour me…); it’s not always like that. Sometimes the title has got everything to do with nothing. Did I say that right? Yes, I did. And you might as well check out Mr Ernest Bazanye’s blog while I’m still saying things right. Right fun, it is 🙂

Said brother is my only ‘real’ brother… The rest are…fake chosen (along the lines of the knights that did all of the awesome deeds we attach to King Arthur…) just so it’s clear. You might hear about him (T) from time to time; might as well introduce him. T minus 10 seconds….

This wonderful blogger makes a case against those people who feel the need to scream at the top of their lungs (cue this song)

in one of his earlier blog entries. His moralistic tone aside (let he that has no sin, [ahem what am I doing blogging during ‘church time’?], cast the first stone……I’m saving mine 🙂 ), he goes against all the wonderful things Ms Eve Ensler taught me about (see vday.org for more info) moaning and being noisy when umm, being intimate.

Now you’ve probably had one of those moments… You know the ones. The person who, just as you were enjoying the sunset, feels the need to speak on its wondrousness. Now, really, you don’t say…no other reason for me to have been enjoying it, now is there? Jeez, I don’t know…maybe because it’s wondrous? I’m just saying… Or the lover who just wants to talk when you’d rather be quiet. He he, stop being coy, you. I’ve had experiences like those in London, England; Kampala, Uganda & Nairobi, Kenya (the talking when I couldn’t be bothered, not the lovers…on the celebration of my chasteness)-goes to prove that being in a capital city doesn’t guarantee a capital experience. He he…

There is peace to be had in silence, joy to be found in solitude…but the world we live in is so full of the noise that we have taught ourselves to seek (admit it, you just refreshed your inbox (e-mail or Facebook), Twitter page, Al Jazeera/BBC World/CNN page..) that we feel odd, not sharing each and every one of our thoughts with our friends/followers. Not taking a photo of this and that and immortalising it on Flickr. Not letting the world know that yes, the person you just saw on this street/that road is, indeed, me.

Try a little silence

[on the occasion of the end of my iPod-free week]

Advertisements

Healing myself…and other such whimsical tales

Healing Yourself is a wonderful concept promulgated by one Louise Hay and bought by many. Not me, I would have hastened to add a week or so ago. But now…that would be to lie because this girl is healing herself 🙂 🙂

I’ve talked about my tendency to vaginal infections before and the angst they cause. Hence healing myself… It’s been shown in research that womyn who frequently take antibiotics are susceptible to such infections. Oh, don’t try to convince me otherwise, I am…I have one now, second in one year…we shall not talk about previous years… So when I had a rash on my back and was put on antibiotics, I got off them as soon as I figured out the source of the rash….THE HEAT. It’s atrocious…and the rash was shaped like my favourite sundress….that’s just hilarious 😀 Then talking to my mum (Superwoman/ Mum/ Dairy expert/ Tree expert/ Economist/ In-house doctor/ Psychologist….you get my drift) about it, I found support for my cause. Here are a few reasons why I want to heal myself:

  • Even with insurance, HMOs, etc; medication for vaginal infections at reputable hospitals is downright expensive. The parents could pay, but I’d rather go for a movie…with popcorn thrown in 🙂
  • The pain, the pain; the aching, stinging pain…need I say more?
  • It’s a nice feeling, wellness. Better hang on to it, I figure…
  • I could go on forever but I’ve talked for long before

Now, how am I going to heal myself? By:

  • Eating healthy
  • Staying yoghurt-y (this works for period pain, too)
  • Generally doing the stuff recommended here (all but stuffing things up my vagina <even though I use tampons>…about as exciting as the pessaries I would get at the hospital…

To other news…

You know what they say…Show me who your friends are etc… Yeah, I’m doing something we used to call ‘kurub mafriends‘ in this post. I know a girl who is, supposedly, my friend and has made been the cause of some debacles in my life. Don’t believe me? Try these:

  • Spreading a random rumour about me losing my virginity to guy whose identity she refuses to reveal who I had just met….and expecting me to give her relationship advice afterwards (oi, but isn’t that some contradiction?)
  • Calling me incessantly to go and people-watch (sorry, people-watchers, I found it stupid…)
  • Telling me not to talk to the guy at the concessions stand at the cinema, probably because I’d refused to accompany her to the toilet (I dislike public amenities), by saying, “Theshaboozle, weren’t you taught not to talk to the help?” across the lobby.

I shall not go on. X, a mutual friend of ours who I am not discussing actively from now henceforth….I mean, really, at the rate at which I have been speaking of him, might as well call this blog ‘All about X, with bits of me thrown in intermittently’….thinks she is, quote, “equal parts brilliant and scary. A good friend to have.” What?! He he, she scares him, that’s a fact (I have seen him stand on a pavement trying to decide whether to walk away from her with me <I had warned her & I didn’t need him to tag along, really> and incur her wrath or go to her & incur mine <I can assure you, I couldn’t have been bothered, even if he were my boyfriend then…which he wasn’t…such things don’t register on my  botheration-meter>) and her brilliance (in the ‘she so smart’ sense) is without question. But her emotional intelligence is so low that I fear it doesn’t exist. For that reason, I am staying away from her; getting her off my Facebook news feed, out of my phonebook (oops! did that already! 😉 ), and resisting any of her overtures. X may think her a good friend but maybe in this case, opposites attract. If your friends speak to the sort of person you are, I refuse to be thought of as similar to her. I’d rather be like L, my friend whose nickname for me is ‘Best Friend’-a girl that’s smart, principled & fun;  or W who can have a laugh and has a wonderful way with words; or A who can shift from matters of the soul to those of the sole flawlessly…or a host of my other friends.  These people, I want to be thought to be like. In short, I am Letting Her Go as TD Jakes would say. And my mum would say that you need to name your sentiments to move on.

Also, here is my message to the universe:

I deserve kind, respectful, considerate friends who share my values and with whom I can share wonderful moments.

Maybe, by not saying that, I have denied myself beautiful friendships while participating in toxic ones…

Last, but most definitely not least; I have become an expert tree planter, many thanks to my mum. My brother, father, mum & I planted quite a few yesterday & shall plant a much larger number today. Kenya has been experiencing water and electricity shortages, occasioned by massive, uncontrolled logging & general destruction of our forests…including not having electricity in my parents’ townhouse yesterday night (‘townhouse’ is just a stab by yours truly at being pompous 😀 )….so we’re doing our part in reforesting the country. Plus, we can sell the trees in 5-10 years time…for a pile of cash, no less. Talk about a win-win situation. Plus, prior to the beginning of the exercise (I first planted trees about 2.5 weeks ago), I had felt pretty useless what with the drudgery that was house & farm chores and school being out ergo no fun kids to teach…tree planting is fun 🙂 Makes me fel like I’m part of a major world occurence…changing the world one tree at a time. Random fact: There’s a shrub called ‘Moby Dick’. Yes, like the book 🙂

I had forgotten this…the 3rd generation iPod Touch is out. Gets a .000000001 on the 100 scale botheration-meter. X & Co. (Apple-freaks, geeks, techwhizzes etc) had some hoopla on Twitter which I ignored and I shall continue to do so. I had a 2nd generation iPod Nano at 18 (then the latest) which was stolen as I conducted an act of friendship (standing at a downtown Nairobi location called Kenya Cinema waiting for my friend 3M) and was gifted (yes, I said gifted, lol) with a 2nd generation iPod Touch by my father last year in December (earmarked for sale) but all I use it for is music…music…music. So I wonder what all the fuss is about. If it stores music same as the one before, as the next one shall, what do I care for all the other gizmos? I like to think of myself as a simple soul (a bit of an untruth, but…) so there we go, I have revealed a little something about me. Joke…

For an entry that I had hoped would be short….:)

Stay tuned for more 😀

I’d rather have a goat

My latest expression to mean

I don’t care!!

It all started with an invitation from my friend to attend his function in Nairobi. YAY!!! Nairobi….I thought….Till a week before when I had an Aha! moment.

I could buy 2 goats with that money…and tutor my cousin during that time. So I called my friend, apologised and didn’t go to Nairobi…

I really would rather have a goat.

Sorry A…