SIGN OF THE TIMES

4

bubbles.png

 

Never trust a writer who does not drink. The one you want to read, has a shot glass in one hand and a shot gun in the other.

That was a failed attempt on my part to kill my writers block, I have practically changed my whole blog theme in the hope that something will spark and voila I’ll be back. I don’t think most people get how frustrating writers block is, I mean I could  cry right now just thinking of how badly I want to write and I can’t. 

It’s almost like denying a junkie his fix. 

Anyway, yesterday I had this crazy dream that I’ve been thinking about all day. I mean it’s one of those dreams you have and you wake up questioning every decision you’ve made. I don’t know if I can classify it as a nightmare but it was close, very close! It combined two of my life’s greatest fears. Chills.

I went to bed at around 12 maybe and it took me a while to toss and turn and toss and turn and wake up, go outside, look at the stars, realize that was stupid because it was really cold and then come back and sleep. So the dream starts out really great, I’m in the house I grew up in and nothing has changed. I’m sitting on my trouble chair and watching TV. My trouble chair was the chair my dad would make me sit in when he was given me lectures about this and that which happened pretty much everyday. I don’t consider myself a difficult child but considering my father would sit me there at 10 pm and we’d end up sleeping at 1 am, I guess I was okay. Model child. 

Anyway, I’m sitting on my trouble chair and then this really huge guy gets in. I don’t quite remember his face but I remember that he was really muscular big. Body builder type. He bends over and I kiss him. Smirk!!! He goes into what used to be my parents bedroom and  while later this two kids show up. A boy and a girl around 5 or so. Okay. 

I get up and that’s when I realize that I am pregnant. Huge baby bump and boobs that would supply a small country with milk. The kids must be my children because they call me mummy before heading out to my bedroom. My parents had built a small bathroom and loo in both our bedrooms so that they would be en-suite and no one had to share. I hear water running and I head over to my bedroom- sasa the one I apparently shared with this body building guy. Let’s call him Max. I suppose he was my husband. I don’t know how I fell for all that muscle, I like them chubby. Ha!

Next thing I remember is me in the sitting room of the house, with a new born, the two kids, Max and my younger sister Ruthy. My sister had grown taller which is kind of annoying because now with her tall height, basketball skills and extrovert personality, she gets a lot of attention. I think we are literally in her shadow. Ha! Anyway she is talking to Max about something and I’m breastfeeding.

Ruthy leaves and now its just what I suppose is my family. Things seem to be going on great but before long there is trouble in paradise. Max and I are fighting a lot, this new baby is crying a lot, the other two are just downright clingy and spoilt! I wonder if I raised them because then I shouldn’t be allowed to have kids. Married life is hard! Sigh!

 Sometimes when Max and I fought, it would literally be one of those movie fight sex scenes. I may have had sex on a laundry machine with my husband in my dream! Ha! Does it count as fornication if I was married in my dream and single in my real life? I’ve been thinking about that a lot and I ended up deciding it’s a Zebra. It’s both black and white. It has both purity and sin in it. 

 Anyway, one time I’m coming from my children’s room and I see my mom in a white and red dress, my dad, both my sisters and Max sleeping on the couches. Even for me, that was really really weird. And they looked like they were like deeply asleep. 

When I’m about to wake them up because it’s freakish, I hear some annoying sound and I begin to wake up. I realize it must be my roommate and her songs again! I wake up and try not to act pissed because who plays songs that sound like kiringiringiringi at 6 am in the morning? You know those Catholic choir songs that make you want to eat glass. How I haven’t pulled a Hannah Baker at this point is beyond me. 

Anyway, I try to sleep again obviously but I can’t so I laze around in bed thinking about how much Tyga weighs right now. All he does is eat and sleep and demand attention. I guess the lazy gene passed on to the boy. Ha! Anyway, the weird thing on top of the weird dream is that I had an almost similar dream the night before last.

I wasn’t married though and I did not have children but I was with a guy and we were good, we were really good. Then we started having this crazy fights and I kicked him out of my house- that part was kind of fun. I’ve always wanted to throw a man out of my house and I know I’d be really dramatic about it because I mean, how fun is that? 

I tried making sense of last night’s dream because the previous one is obviously inevitable but I don’t want to end up married to a body builder, living in my parent’s house and having three children! I mean how crazy is it that one day, I may find a guy and decide that yeah, I’ll tolerate the face of you each morning and I will not go grocery shopping in any other stores because your store has everything I need. Even if I hate the eggplant you’re selling, I will not shop elsewhere. Till death do us part. I’ll kill you in your sleep and go shopping afterwards. Don’t marry me!

I mean besides my best friend, I don’t think Ill be attending any other weddings because the kind of people that I really know, wouldn’t last two days in a commitment that serious! But who knows? At 25, instead of globe trotting, I could be a stay at home mom with Junior, Senior and Mary! Maybe my dreams are trying to tell me something. Or maybe I’ve been spending too much time in court listening to marital dispute cases and writing about them. 

I’m going to go with the second one because its the one that doesn’t make me want to step into moving traffic and go to the good place.

 

 

BABY WHAT IF?

16

 

Both my exes texted me the other day, it was a little funny how simultaneously those texts came and for a moment I thought that an ex movement was formed and these devils were trying me. 

Ever seen one of those cliche, over produced, highly exaggerated high school movies where girl likes boy, boy is popular, boy breaks girl’s heart and girl eventually falls in love with the boy that she had ignored and they live happily ever after. Yes? Then good because you have an idea of what my first campus maybe sort of kinda relationship was like. 

I met this boy in one of those stories that if we ever got married would be both awesome and awkward to tell. It was one of those things that just happen and I lost my mind over him pretty quickly. He was a little tall, probably the most handsome guy in my year – ha! And funny. He was an extrovert that ran with his squad and I was an introvert still trying to figure out what hair color I liked best. 

As time went by though, I guess the nature of who he was and who I was and how fast things were going got to him and he bailed- well he cheated with what I refer to as a downgrade but ah well. Story is, it stung A LOT! I remember my roommate and I choosing playlists that related to how I felt, my sister would find me crying with eyes so swollen it hurt to open them. It was rough for my 18 year old self. 

As time went by though, I got over him and I was happy again. Happy but a little damaged. That’s the story of the first ex.

Probably an year later, I met the second ex. By this time, I was 19 and I think I had done more self damage than most people. It was a carefree time, a time of my life and I liked it. I enjoyed it and I really didn’t want it to end but then he came along. 

He was an okay kind of guy. I mean by this time I had been round so much chaotic, carefree sort of guys that his cool and kept self was what attracted me to him. Song requests turned into texts that turned into drinks that turned into food that turned into dating.

With this guy, it was more of a  justification phase than it was a relationship. Our communication was majorly factored by: I didn’t do it or Well, I don’t feel like it’s a bad thing to do. We argued about everything and that seemed to be how we adapted to talking to each other. After really terribly handling the last cheat in my life, I had made it clear that I really didn’t want to be cheated on. I mean, who ever does?

Long story short, it happened again but this time instead of crying every time ‘Half a heart’ came along, I decided to confront the situation head on and when that didn’t work out, I found myself in months of maybe relationship status and being too scared to walk away because well, “I love him”. That was the dumbest notion I had in my life.

When I finally decided to move on and take his mate with me, I felt pretty good. I remember crying one time because there is nothing I enjoy less than being lied to. Lying to me builds up this deep frustration and I think I had handled enough of his lies and when I was done throwing a tantrum, I walked away. That was around December 2016. 

Now in July 2017, almost 6 months later, when my life is a bit better not marred by the strain of relationships, here they come along. Not one, but two of them!  Memories of my life marked by months of self doubt, tears, lies and tolerance that could have won me an Oscar. 

I laughed a little when I read those texts. They didn’t miss me, I didn’t miss them. They missed the memory that they had of me. In my first relationship, I had invested too much. I had too much feeling, too self giving, too generous with my time and my resources. I guess he missed having someone that was almost on beck and call for him. In my second relationship I adopted a more sit still, look pretty, get mad and get over it kind of attitude and I guessed he missed someone that could tolerate his every mood and almost beg for five minutes of his time. So…

Dear Exes,

You don’t miss me , because you don’t  know me now and you definitely didn’t take enough time to now me then. I guess though, not everyone realizes that when some of it glitters, baby it is gold and cursed is the fool that settles for less.

You cannot miss that which you never knew and I was there but you just missed me. I got over you and you got over me and this little ‘confession’ is just but flashes of  the “what if’s” I no longer have interest in.

The well hath runneth dry but no darling, I have no interest in filling it up.

With Love,

Misfitly Wild.

 

 

MAMA… I’M PREGNANT 

8

Hi Mama,

By the time you’ll be reading this, I shall be at the place where the skies meet the stars in a harmonious perfection. So let me begin by saying, mama I’m sorry. 

Like all sad stories, mine also begins with a boy. He was wonderful mama. He was the sort of boy that made me feel a different kind of special. He always seemed to say the right thing at the right time and in just the right way. He made me feel safe mama, wanted, loved and despite your advice to always keep my eyes open, I was constantly blinded by what I thought was a love eternal-My Perfect Cinderella story. 

I know mama. You are probably shaking your head and thinking that I should have known better. That you raised me better. That I deserved better. But mama, it was a crippling kind of love. The kind of love that made me see no fault in his eyes, no flaw in his being. He was perfection for me. 

So when the news that I was with our  seed came through, I was not scared, I was not sad, no mama, I was elated. At that moment mama, I was walking on the moon! Because here I was, about to complete this perfect love with the perfect bundle of joy. You should have seen my face mama, you should have heard how beautifully my heart beat in that moment. It was the perfect moment for my perfect love. 

But then it wasn’t. It wasn’t a perfect love and I was not going to have a perfect bundle of joy with my perfect man. All I said mama was, Baby I’m pregnant! Baby, did you hear me, I’m pregnant. For us. It’s finally going to be completely perfect. 

Then the end began.

It wasn’t the hesitation in his voice or the roughness in his tone that made my heart drop mama, it was the betrayal in his words and the spite as he uttered them. He didn’t love me anymore mama. He wasn’t ready. Was I sure? What was perfect? He had a life! Was it even his? He had heard things and this proved it. Don’t call me again. Leave me alone. Click!!

For a moment mama, I thought I was in one of my nightmares. And so I tried to open my eyes mama.  I wanted to open them and realize that my perfect cinderella story was still in play. That somehow the director had not yelled cut on my perfect story. But each time I opened them mama, the reality of it all hit me a hundredfold. 

And now I cannot breathe, I cannot feel my heart anymore mama. And it hurts. It hurts a terrible deal. I am lost mama. I am scared. Because mama, I’m pregnant. And it’s not perfect. It hurts. It aches. It cripples. I haven’t moved for days mama… I seem stuck in a sorf of limbo and I cannot pull myself back. 

Mama, I’m pregnant. I have thought a million times over how excited you would be to hear the news– if only now was 10 years later and all your dreams for me had come to life. But it isn’t 10 years later is it mama? It’s 10 years too early and my heart cannot bear the thought of seeing you dissapointed. Hurt. Angry. Confused. Sad. 

Mama, I’m pregnant. But worry not- when the skies turn a beautiful red tonight, we could be happier maybe even better. Shall I know peace mama? Will the place where the skies meet the stars let me rest mama? Or will the demons of my future past haunt me? Will the blood of my innocent keep me forever restless?

Mama, I’m pregnant and I want you to hold my hand and tell me it’s okay. I want you to do what he was unable to do for me. To love me- perfectly. I don’t want you to be upset mama, I don’t want you to cry, I don’t want you to worry! I want you to smile and tell me it is still my perfect moment and that you and I can create a perfect picture still with my perfect bundle of joy!

But I realize mama, that that would be asking too great of a deal from you!  And I am far too ashamed to watch you try and smile as this tears you apart! Maybe I am a coward mama, for choosing this, for going down like this. But mama, I do not want to carry on like everything is fine. I am trying to be brave for you mama but at the same time, I cannot face your breaking heart! 

Mama I’m pregnant and tonight at sunset I shall take my baby and I to the place where the skies meet the stars in perfect harmony! 

Mama… I’m pregnant but above all mama, I am sorry!

-Broken Cinderella

FOR MY HEART UNBROKEN

7

To my perfect delight:

It’s almost crippling- this feeling I have because what do you do when your heart beats a little faster, your cheecks flash a little redder and your thoughts are fully and wholly consumed by it. 

I remember the day we first met and I cannot for the life of me tell you how many times I’ve tucked tight in my bed reminising the events of that first meet. I remember everything in brutal detail. I remember the first time you smiled at me, the first time you spoke to me, the first time you hugged me, the first time you kissed me. I remember my knees going just a little weak and my heart beating just a little faster. I remember how everything else faded away and for a moment I could swear it was just you and I. It was perfect. In that moment, we were perfect. Under the stars but deep in your arms. If I never said it before, then goddamn, it felt magical. 

The magic grew with each passing day that I saw you. For a moment it felt like my fairy godmother was always with me, sprinkling just a little bit of wand magic my way and then you’d appear. You were my perfect dream. I remember waiting up late for my green light to pop up- my favorite notification. It was amazing how easily a ‘Hey’ from you could make me smile. And knowing you each day made me believe in this magical thing- this beautiful, perfect us. And dammit I loved it! 

But then, that’s the thing about magic love. It’s not real. It is just but an illusion. By the mind, for the mind. And now I feel trapped. Because I thought you were godmothers gift but it turns out, you were a magical trick. An illusion. A fairy tale- only now I don’t see us having a happily ever after. 

The sad truth is- when we met we were both looking to escape. To escape reality. To escape life. To escape hurt. To escape imperfection. We both wanted a safe space. We both needed a safe space. And, darling I don’t know how hard I make your heart beat or how weak I may have made your knees but I do know for a fact that our safe space is lost. 

Because all you seem to do now is break me and hurt me and fill me with never ending doubt. What do I feel? What do I want? Do I want you or the image of you? Do I trust you or the image of you? Because you are a reality- a reality that scares me but your image is an illusion – an illsuion I love to believe in. 

I want you to wake up and tell me it’s okay. Tell me that just like everything else, this is me overthinking things. That my mind is in a continous state of turmoil for no reason because you are here, and you won’t leave. You won’t fade away. The magic is not dead, we just need to learn new tricks.

And honey I will smile. And I think for now- a certain smile is all I want. 

But you can’t can you? Because just like me- you are in a world uncertain. 

And you have no idea how greatly that kills me. 

So goodbye my love. Goodbye. 

– Broken Pieces

The Rot that is Us

0

​Today, I wake up a disappointed citizen- Again. 
I wake up disappointed because I have realized that I live in a country where people are okay to be mediocre. We have become so content in our little zones that we don’t see how fast we are rotting. We are rotting as a people. We have forgotten all that once glued us together. 

I wake up disappointed because the only language that we speak is the tribal one. I wake up disappointed because we walk around preaching water and drinking wine. 

A mother lost a child because the doctor at a hospital that can accept her minimum wage has gone on strike because the politician that bags millions of shillings in tax money has refused to pay his wages. Why you ask? Oh you know he is simply busy trying to campaign for a better Kenya. He is not bothered that millions of lives are at stake, I mean what’s more important than Kura Yake?

A family is mourning the loss of their child because there is no food in the country. Let’s go ahead and call it a National Disaster… Will we do anything about it though? Ah well, if we send a few bags of Unga then the mwananchi will see we are hard at work. He will eat Ugali for lunch and then I will drive by in my Range Rover and ask him to take his Kura because I mean, what’s more important than Kura Yake? 

Scores of lives were lost in the post election violence because of the Tribal Language. Mheshimiwa, what will you do about it? Ah, I shall continue to divide and conquer. Spread the message of hate sugar coated in promises of doing better than this and that region. I shall tell Mwananchi that they don’t deserve the seat because they don’t speak our tongue. They are thieves. But when I get to that seat, do you know what I shall do, I shall squander public resources. I shall attend 1M budget breakfast meetings, I shall take my children to Yale where the lecturers never go on strike, I shall devour the tax payers money and I shall blame it all on Corruption. Because He is Evil but me, I am only trying to do what’s best for Mwananchi. 

The lecturers are on strike you say? Ahhh, well good they shall have more time to take Kura. Because, what’s more important than Kura Yake? The students also, I shall visit them and give them Kshs 300 to chukua Kura because they need a better Kenya and I am a better Kenya. 

What about their school work? 

What about it? This man corruption has taken away all the jobs and there is no point of them returning to this mediocre institutions that offer fake degrees and come out to this cruel land that offers zero employment. No! I shall do nothing to ease the strike. Let them strike! It leaves more time for them to take Kura. Because what’s more important than Kura?
I shall sit in my high table in August. After I win my seat. And I shall start a motion to raise my salary because Mheshimiwa is not content with the millions he squanders every month. No, I need more. 
The doctors shall strike again, and so shall the lecturers and the teacher and everyone else. I shall pay no mind though because I shall have reached my high table. I shall sleep in Parliament while they pass motions that actually matter and I shall be wide awake to play the game of He Did, She Did because what’s more important that eliminating your rivals in seats of power?
The country shall hunger but I shall pay no mind. Because I gave them Unga and they gave me 5 more years to convince them that Nothing is more important than Kura!    
We shall ignore the voice of the small man because Baba will speak for the Nation. The young generation government shall dab away our problems and at the end of the day, as the common Mwananchi bleeds for me in the streets of Tom Mboya, I shall sit on the VIP Lounge at Intercontinental with my brother and have a double shot of Whiskey while coming up with more reasons why their is nothing more important than Kura Yake. 

#WeAreARottingPeople

Off to Coast in Red Convertibles 

6

Today, I woke up with an agenda to write something super important about something that affects the environment, babies, manure or maybe politricks? Then, as it is my nature to never do what I say I’m going to do, I’m sitting here and I’m not going to write about babies or manure or the environment or the pigs in politics. I am going to write about a song sent to me by Thee Arkay called September Song.

It’s a really sweet song about young love at 15. 

Yesterday, I was busy watching Elijah watching Hayley get married to this Jackson guy when it hit me, now she’s going to be the one that got away for Elijah you know unless Klaus kills Jackson and everybody hates him but you know at least then Elijah has a chance with Hayley. Anyway, as I sat there crying like a little bitch for Elijah, I remembered, I have a ‘The One that Got away too’. My own September Song.

See, when I was like 7 years old I had this best friend called, well let’s call him Nick. My mom and Nick’s mom were really good friends and I spent a lot of time at their place with our babysitter Hannah I think. Nick and I were closer than close, we shared stupid secrets and I remember our favorite pastime was stealing coins and buying Juice Cola then taking those 2 liters bottles and making some Cola. I remember Nick once told me that if you drink too much Cola then you get drunk and that day we made 4 liters of Cola for some reason.

At Nick’s plot there was this other girl whose face I can’t remember and whose name I don’t know so let’s call her Angie. Angie would sometimes hangout with us and she had confessed that she had a thing for Nick. Each time we’d hang out I’d always try to get Nick to sit next to Angela but he wouldn’t. You know how kids run away from other kids coz they don’t want ‘cooties’? It was something like that with Nick and Angela and as always I was caught in between but you know best friends before weird girls crushing on best friends.  

One day, Nick and I were in their living room after downing 2 liters of Cola in his room it was raining I think and we must have been watching the telly or something. In his room he had this picture of a red convertible that he loved. It was his dream car or something. Anyway, he passes this piece of paper to me and in it is a question. Thinking back now, it was really sweet what he did and dear future boyfriend, when you propose to me, take notes from Nick and Ed Sheeran will you?

So, in the piece of paper was the question that every girl wanted to be asked at 7, “Will you be my girlfriend?” There were two boxes one marked Yes and the other No. Under the Yes box, he had written, If you say Yes, I’ll buy my red car and take you to Mombasa. He was just the sweetest. Anyway, have you ever met those people that are so scared of love and relationships that they run away from good things, get involved with bad things that are highly dysfunctional and end up just nasty? Yes, even at 7 I had issues. I really wanted to say yes and get my first boyfriend who would buy me Cola and those weird shaped ball gums and we would watch Tom and Jerry together till were old and grey probably living in Mombasa like we wanted. But then I said no and sorry because Angela liked Nick. I’m weirdly such a nice person aren’t I?

I don’t remember much about Nick after that whole situation, I saw him again when we were in class 6 and he moved to my school but by then we had lost our thing and I had a crush on this Luhya guy called something something. He was kind of maybe probably cute- story for another day. 

And that’s the story of how sweet Nick and I never lived happily ever after in Mombasa with his red convertible thingy.

 I miss you Nick and I hope you found the girl that said Yes and went to Mombasa with you– or not, you know there’s a chance we could meet someday so you know maybe who knows okay, bye. I have things to do. 

THE BOY I LOVE

0

Introverts always tend to thrive in environments where they are alone, you know without the noise of the world. I feel like we say this all the time but nobody ever listens to us. Anyway, I have replayed Boyfriend and not the Justin Beiber version, the Big Time Rush version about 300 million times and it sparked a little memory. Here is the story of a boy I like to call, My Almost Boyfriend. 

Our love story begins like all others, we met on the internet and no, it was not on Tinder or some other weird dating site, it was actually on Instagram. Well I mean I met him on Instagram and for weeks I stalked him and did not like any of his pictures coz you know I was playing a little hard to get. Anyway, he was the complete definition of my tall, dark and handsome which means that he had a nice face, a nice set of teeth and he was generally amazing to look at.  

I swear to God do you ever have one of those daygarsms? Like you rode that day so hard and it just got you there, right in the spot you wanted to be at the exact time you wanted to be there and you didn’t have to fake the excitement of the day coz you really were excited about the journey there? I could use a better comparison but my playlist is currently on Wild Horses and I can’t help but think of jockeys. The people who ride are jockeys yeah?  Ha-ha.

Anyway, the moral of the previous paragraph is that he liked my pictures. We call that insta-rape in stupid people who can’t stay of the internet language. And when I say he liked my pictures, I mean he freakin liked all my photos. Have you ever been so excited that you plan a met, a proposal, a wedding and  three babies? And in a span of like 3 minutes? Before I could even get over how cute Sam, Chris and Ronny (Yes, I have no desire whatsoever to mother girls) he sealed our fate by hitting that follow button. I wanted to go to Mars and say hey to the Queen alien, congratulate her on her 400 new purple babies and then take a little trip around the rings in some planet whose name I can’t remember. I was having one of those: And in that moment Jane new that Raphael was the love of her life moments from Jane the Virgin which I have conveniently not watched, I just heard that line one time. Did I use conveniently right in that sentence? 

Anyway, we spent the next few weeks exchanging those likes and from the way he liked my pictures, I could tell that he knew I knew he knew that we both knew we knew there was something there. Something magical, his like loves even appeared different. The heart would beat a little then give me one of those hey baby winks- you feel? Then one day I was busy minding my business not being where his geo tag had said he was 30 minutes back when he somehow saw me not conveniently sitting directly opposite where he was with his friends. I call it fate- my best friend calls it stalking but I mean, what does she know right? It’s fate. It is. 

So, he walked up to me after a few minutes of me not praying to something that he would and sparked a conversation. We talked about how much I was not looking at his face and picturing him running around with baby Sam who was our first born and wasn’t it just perfect? It was, wasn’t it? I mean you can also see how beautiful of a couple we are right? Him, me, us, together, forever in our little house in the suburbs with our little cats and our little court coz my dad would insist on teaching the boys basketball and our little pool because Chris would be a sucker for the water and Ronny would just be my little perfect boy who likes cooking with mommy. So perfect right? 

Well, wrong. As luck would have it, his girlfriend, that appeared in almost all his photos was a boy.  

I’ve never really been able to get over him majorly because you know, none of this actually ever happened but you know I actually did stalk my way into several lives so… It’s pretty close.