<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EMRn8-cSp7ImA9WxNUFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367</id><updated>2009-11-06T09:41:27.159+03:00</updated><title>Girl in the Meadow</title><subtitle type="html">Stay Celibate.Stay safe.Stay Faithful.Stay Alive</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>369</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><link rel="self" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/GirlInTheMeadow" type="application/atom+xml" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEHSX0zfSp7ImA9WxNWFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-2118505216443189020</id><published>2009-10-16T11:53:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-16T12:00:38.385+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-16T12:00:38.385+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Nothing Really" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="infamy" /><title>Honorable Mention</title><content type="html">The Girl in the Meadow has something to say about everything or so thinks someone at Zuqka. Read at page 14  &lt;a href="http://zuqka.nationmedia.com/index.aspx"&gt;http://zuqka.nationmedia.com/index.aspx&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-2118505216443189020?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/2118505216443189020/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=2118505216443189020&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2118505216443189020?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2118505216443189020?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/J8y1ji1gi94/honorable-mention.html" title="Honorable Mention" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/10/honorable-mention.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAGQnk9eyp7ImA9WxNXGEw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-5836011060898621755</id><published>2009-10-06T11:28:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T11:28:43.763+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-10-06T11:28:43.763+03:00</app:edited><title>Tusker Project Fame 3</title><content type="html">&lt;br&gt;For all pictures and further stories go to their website &lt;a href="http://www.tuskerprojectfame.com/home.asp"&gt;http://www.tuskerprojectfame.com/home.asp&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;Perhaps because in my opinion TPF 2 was a total flop, i hesitated watching TPF 3 until a few people were evicted. To say i didn&amp;#39;t hear either Kevin or Nina sing. The talent in TPF 2 was simply missing and who could be blamed for watching idols. The winner of TPF 2 could not have made it to the last 10 of Idols. What happened to the winner of Idols anyway? I suspect the high cost of living and inflation in Zimbabwe caught up with his quest for stardom. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;Anyway TPF 3 is totally different. Apart from one weakling called Superlito the rest of the contestants have all super impressed me. Sometimes the evictions look superbly stage managed sorry sloppily stage managed and so far lost 2 great contestants (Debarl and Leah). Anyway both Debarl and Leah lost to the game of winning 5 million. The angst that the public had that led to a facebook group &amp;quot;Sorry Patricia, but we wont vote for you&amp;quot; for not voting back Debarl, all the same, everyone has an eye on the prize and what&amp;#39;s wrong with falling the best of the competition. Anyway that game is becoming dangerous. &lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;Here are my false predictions;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Maureen&lt;/b&gt; will get evicted on Saturday for failing to connect with the public. Did you see her reaction when she was up for probation. Too much confidence sister! You are great but the public will have to vote you in for you to win. It doesn&amp;#39;t matter what the teachers think now. Ooh and that eye make up is horrr--iibleee.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Nganga &lt;/b&gt;will make it to the last 3 but can&amp;#39;t  win. He could probably try his luck at the &amp;quot;Can you dance?&amp;quot;. Nganga has survived at least 4 probations. Personally i like his voice only that it is not as high pitched as everyone else. But all the same, between him and Ian there is no love lost. I love his boyish charm though.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;Alpha&lt;/b&gt; will probably win this TPF 3 then go disappear in Rwanda forever. Alpha tantalized us with a rendition of Lucky Dube&amp;#39;s One people (or what is it called, i ain&amp;#39;t no reggae fan!) and his voice is also great. Let&amp;#39;s just hope he wins.&lt;br&gt; &lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;b&gt;AOB&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;That Mitch dude is extremely irritating. Don&amp;#39;t they have any other presenters in Uganda, seriously!!!!&lt;br&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-5836011060898621755?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/5836011060898621755/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=5836011060898621755&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/5836011060898621755?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/5836011060898621755?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/Yg1PYDWDB1E/tusker-project-fame-3.html" title="Tusker Project Fame 3" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/10/tusker-project-fame-3.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MEQXc-fip7ImA9WxNTEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-8981637664916941883</id><published>2009-08-11T18:07:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-08-12T08:36:40.956+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-08-12T08:36:40.956+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Diaspora" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Fantastic Kenyans" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Kenyan" /><title>The country i belong</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;The debate started here;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://lovelymoney.blogspot.com/2009/08/diasporans-giving-up-on-kenya.html"&gt;http://lovelymoney.blogspot.com/2009/08/diasporans-giving-up-on-kenya.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Then moved here;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://grainsofmasala.blogspot.com/2009/08/giving-up-is-not-option.html"&gt;http://grainsofmasala.blogspot.com/2009/08/giving-up-is-not-option.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br&gt;Well i read and re-read the original post and the comments.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Some feelings came over me because i did not know who to direct my angst at. The writer of the blog, the thieves, KPLC &amp;amp; Kengen, the buggers on the list of Mau, our politicians,God for not letting it rain Isaac &amp;amp; William Ruto, Moi, Kibaki, Eddie Njoroge, Raila, the people who caused post election violence, the police who tortured people during post election violence, the careless politicians who issued haterade during post election violence, Kiraitu Murungi, the people who trashed MOU, Kivuitu, the US and the foreign countries who have refused to trade with Africa and instead ask us for proper governance, Hilary Clinton, Barack Obama, the US &amp;amp; even the UK for colonizing and patronizing Africa (thus Kenya) and even China for dumping their cheap imports on us poor Africans!....&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;As you can see I have a lot of people to blame for our sordid, sorry condition.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Once in a while i have fleeting thoughts of permanently moving out of my country to go and look for greener pastures. Then i came to this sad conclusion, it is easier to make a life ( not necessarily a living) in Kenya than any other place in the world. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Yes, i know everytime i watch news, somebody will have been jacked, Isaac Ruto will have said a statement that will make you wonder whether to smack him or just send that hangman right to his house or something will be terribly wrong. That is conveyed in less than hour, and yet strong enough to convince someone never to come back to Kenya, the land of their birth. In short, these are trying times. And yes i know every morning i have to wake up before 6 to ensure a hot shower, assuming that the water will be available:(. And yet, everyday, each day in Kenya is not as horrid as it is made to be.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have the joy of living in my mother land. A country nobody thinks less of me because my skin is black. A country i can walk head high, shoulders even higher because it is home. A place i can travel to the country side and catch the smell of cow&amp;#39;s dung in the morning. And truly breath fresh air. A place where food is food, not manufactured food. Nobody sells to me &amp;quot;organic&amp;quot; or is it &amp;quot;Superfoods&amp;quot;?. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Where the weather never truly changes and i don&amp;#39;t know the meaning of sweltering heat nor snow. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;What more in life can one ask for?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I know the despair that comes with a really corrupt citizenry (ooh don&amp;#39;t blame a few) or even our wanton neglect of existing laws (Traffic jams anyone?) or even our utter selfishness and grabbing everything in sight. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But when all modernity is taken, all tall buildings, subways, highways that defy nature or the greatest architectural buildings or even greater and faster service that other nations boast of. The warmth and humanity of Kenyans is beyond reproach.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have had clients from developed nations refuse to go back to their lands. Here, they say they have met with people with a genuine touch and focus on making a living while at the same time making a life. I would hell hate to stay in a place where time is never enough, that i could never stop a chit chat with someone i call my friend because i need to be at the work place to serve other people (hello exemplary service). Where people are governed by clocks to make MORE MONEY.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I love money no doubt for the things i can do with it, but i will not &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; look after my ailing aging parents, prefering to dump them in homes for the aged (where by the way they will be looked after by the illegal immigrants from a country that they think is in South Africa)&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;After all we have something to sell. Being Human. That is what Kenyans are and always remain.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-8981637664916941883?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/8981637664916941883/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=8981637664916941883&amp;isPopup=true" title="11 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8981637664916941883?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8981637664916941883?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/markqocQjO8/country-i-belong.html" title="The country i belong" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/08/country-i-belong.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEMQHk-eip7ImA9WxJbEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-2345968287001368309</id><published>2009-07-22T19:02:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-07-22T19:04:41.752+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-07-22T19:04:41.752+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Nothing Really" /><title /><content type="html">It's been a while since i posted something here. Been super busy (Code name for blogger's block). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's see. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will be back when i have something to write:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile follow my twitterations here&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;www.twitter.com/shiroh&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-2345968287001368309?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2345968287001368309?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2345968287001368309?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/s6RvyWjZAPo/its-been-while-since-i-posted-something.html" title="" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/07/its-been-while-since-i-posted-something.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEQMQXgyfCp7ImA9WxJWE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-4898117894152475516</id><published>2009-06-18T08:19:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-18T08:19:40.694+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-18T08:19:40.694+03:00</app:edited><title>Conversation with Vendor</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;br&gt;I was buying veggies from a vendor yesterday and we had this conversation.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me: Prices are going up every day what&amp;#39;s up&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Vendor: That is why we are not getting married&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me:ooh, why is that?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Vendor: Now, the last time i bought maize flour it was Fifty shillings, how much is it now, you might know yourself.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;Honestly i don&amp;#39;t do shopping&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;When i don&amp;#39;t know something, i just smile&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Vendor: Wacha mtu akae kwao na mimi nikae kwetu, tuonane Sunday and then we can pretend to be married&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Vendor: Can you imagine the way life is hard, what if i have to take a child to school, the cheapest is 3k, Si nitakufa?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Me: You can&amp;#39;t die, you just pray to God to provide&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Vendor: If God was among us, i could go direct to him...you know but now i don&amp;#39;t even know where He is&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;At that point i laughed, paid and left.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-4898117894152475516?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/4898117894152475516/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=4898117894152475516&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/4898117894152475516?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/4898117894152475516?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/PsWbSNWg03Q/conversation-with-vendor.html" title="Conversation with Vendor" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/06/conversation-with-vendor.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8ARnczfyp7ImA9WxJXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-3112493836576772105</id><published>2009-06-11T17:30:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2009-06-11T17:34:07.987+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-06-11T17:34:07.987+03:00</app:edited><title>ANYTHING I KNOW</title><content type="html">&lt;div class=Section1&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='background:white'&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"'&gt;I learnt it when I was 18 years old.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='background:white'&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"'&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='background:white'&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"'&gt;&lt;br clear=all&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:13.5pt;font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"'&gt;Friendships, gossips, betrayals, hip sisters, group mentality....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Arial","sans-serif"'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;Her name was Elsie. Tall, slender, big eyes.&amp;nbsp; She was the first gal friend I made when my dad shoved me to KTTC for a CPA course. He did everything; filled the paper work, looked for a school, paid for it and all that stuff. All I needed was to report. Which I did. It was a boarding college. My dad figured if I stayed idle I would start all those funny behaviours that teenagers pick when they are idle. So I am in these huge college with men and all that stuff and a library. So, these group of girls let&amp;#8217;s call them hip sisters and I became inseparable. We ate, queued, went to class, washed together. We we we&amp;#8230; gossiped. Ultimately, cracks began to show. Elsie was my best friend in the group and so we gossiped about the others, made fun of their dressing, shared family histories and problems, and I helped her overcome the fear of men because she had been sexually abused as a child. Our friendship is one I will probably never have. We went to Gikomba , drank the first beer, raved at the college dances, had our first boyfriend.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;Then, hell broke loose. I don&amp;#8217;t know what it is about gals. They started dishing dirt on who said what and how it was said..so eventually everything broke! Of all, I was closest, she is the only one who knew what I thought or even said, the fact that it was out HURT me, really much. She decided we could not be friends. At that time I could not understand what was happen. Then it all started to fit in. I was devastated. Everyone was shouting at each other, I had no friends anymore. I was devastated.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;Your best friend walks in when all walk out&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;To say I was devastated is to understand it, these gals were my life in college. Then J happened. The first day J and I met she dissed me about my leather jacket. So I didn&amp;#8217;t like her at all. One day she met me crying; she was worried. We talked and talked about it all. She was&amp;nbsp; my crying shoulder. Then she introduced me to the library.&amp;nbsp; Because I had been so obsessed with the gal power troop, I barely noticed there was a library&lt;span style='font-family:Wingdings'&gt;L&lt;/span&gt;. I don&amp;#8217;t know how I would have passed my exams, if it were not for J. So I began to study, even Financial Accounting became easy. We became friends. She is still a good friend of mine till today though time and seasons have waned our friendship, I could say she saw me through the worst of times. Few can do that.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;It was not the end of friendships that devastated me, it was the lies and the betrayals. For this lesson I will be forever be grateful. I don&amp;#8217;t do gal gangs. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:18.0pt'&gt;Boys, bars, beer&amp;#8230;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;His name was D, a Giriama boy. He had/still has the greatest sense of humor. We met at a place me and J were having a rendezvous. It was near my home, I had always heard of it but my father could never let me go there. So I didn&amp;#8217;t. Then there was freedom. I could hang out go back to the hostel and my poor dad (who by the way had forked out a fortune to let me board)&amp;nbsp; would never know. So we danced, we partied, laughed and then he broke my heart. Yes. Terribly. It took me 3 years to get out of this one. I got sick. My friend J could do nothing to help me with this one. You know when young love strikes, it strikes hard. But at the end, I was scarred but stronger. I did not date anyone for 3 years.&amp;nbsp; I learnt when you are hurt, it is better to move on. Hope is a dangerous thing.&amp;nbsp; Then I met with vodka, threw up and all that AND grew up. I can&amp;#8217;t tell the last time I threw up after drinking, I know my brands and stick to them. I don&amp;#8217;t envy chics who misbehave after drinking too much/the wrong drinks&amp;#8230;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:18.0pt'&gt;H is for Heartbreak&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;Yup. Thing with innocent unadulterated love(?) is that when it hurts, IT HURTS. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:"Georgia","serif";color:black'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-3112493836576772105?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/3112493836576772105/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=3112493836576772105&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3112493836576772105?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3112493836576772105?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/XoQPPbnApvo/anything-i-know.html" title="ANYTHING I KNOW" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/06/anything-i-know.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ABQHgzeip7ImA9WxJRFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-5503773988888670613</id><published>2009-05-18T16:02:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-18T16:02:31.682+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-18T16:02:31.682+03:00</app:edited><title>QUARTER LIFE CRISIS</title><content type="html">&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;You know it, you have been through it. That time that you are between 25 years and 30 years of age. I am in the middle. Not young enough to be called a girl; not old enough to be called a woman. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Things start to happen;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;You wanna cut your hair&lt;/span&gt;. I have been raising my hair for 12 odd years now. It has cost me a lot. I am suddenly tired of the dryer, the chemicals, the burning. I can't also do the horse hair. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;But you still can't cut your hair. Because your insecurities remind you of the many times other kids called your head a bus. A little exaggeration, right there. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;Your career&lt;/span&gt; (sorry your job) start to look dim, you toy with the idea of being an actress or married to a mogul and never having to work for another day. Basically you know; money is the best option. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;I can't lie; I am becoming impatient with my job. The idea of quitting is becoming real by the day. Of course the insecure bird says, it's the recession boss. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The idea of hustling for your own medical insurance, another job, business failure, brokenness makes you survive another day, week, month, and year.&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 16pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 16pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Can anybody live with me? To rephrase, can I live with anybody?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;My mother accidentally made a reference to me being married. I ignored. When watching the Wedding show (very involuntarily) my cousin asked when I would be getting married. I occasionally get bitchy so I ask her, when you are getting married yourself. She said you are the older one (gr). I ignore. What? Don't get me wrong, I think getting married is fantastic when you finally get the person you wanna get married to and it sounds fine to you and your heart. I am just not there. &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;No hints, subtle or loud. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Illusion&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;My dream is to fly over the rainbow so high.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Passive aggressive&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;I am those kind of people who are passive aggressive. That, neuroscientists think is a disorder. It is not. It is a character trait. You are not aggressive and you are not passive. One day you have an outburst and everyone is worried. I take a lot of crap. Then one day I am explosive. What's the deal with that? Or rather I am tired of these psychologists or whatever it is they are, thinking there is something wrong with the non-conforming. To borrow from Milo (he is back!) he is the genius who refuses to be tamed. He borrowed it from KM.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Big bang theory and the intellectual&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;I don't know (illusion perhaps), I get myself laughing at geek jokes. I totally adore the geeky types, on Television. So what is the problem, geeks in real life are not interesting and so….&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 16pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;The bad boys&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;In my real life, I don't like the intellectual types. Not surprisingly, I enjoy the non intellectuals or intellectuals who don't wanna act it (especially those). I love people who can jump and down in a club. I am totally intrigued by bad boys. I want to know, how do you look at your wife in the eye and tell her you have been working while you slept in a hotel room somewhere with some other woman. Why? And they lie a lot too. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;I am still marrying the geek (lol). Just don't make me read comics.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 18pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;I stop making sense&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;See the last two.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 16pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Help! I can't fill my tax returns&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;There is something about seeing how much tax you paid to the Government could have changed your life. You gave them anyway. I feel robbed every day I don't have water or electricity. Again, is Migingo available to take the human misfits there? I am sure the snakes and snails would have a field day. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; TEXT-INDENT: -0.5in; TEXT-ALIGN: justify"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;The little house on the Prairie, two children, no husband&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;I occasionally have the thought of living on the singlesville forever. Then I remember the creaking back, the menopause, the disappearing hairline and the folding skin. Those are misfortunes you would like to share with someone. Sorry but I am not too optimistic about the marriage things, I need counseling. Ooh blame my folks for not holding it together! It has nothing to do with law school as many misinformed people may like to imagine.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 16pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Big words&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Can you believe I used the word ravenous in a conversation once? &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;I know the good people of the blogsphere will wonder what is complicated about that. Let me let you in a secret. It is uppity in Nairobi to use such words when you could use a non-complicated word. Trust me, I was given the look..ooh so you know a little English. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Another day I sat with other people that scored over 500 marks in KCPE and boasted of the good old days. What it was like appearing on the top 10 in the district. Someni vijana days are over. Real life is hard. It takes more of the brawn to make it. I mean like ass licking, saying yes sir when all you want to do is say F-U, and then you remember the recession. Look at Beyonce'. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-SIZE: 16pt; LINE-HEIGHT: 115%"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 10pt"&gt;&lt;font face="Calibri"&gt;Why do I like these two artistes? They are train wrecks. Seriously Amy makes great music, Britney makes great shows. They are to me, the epitome of self destruction. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-5503773988888670613?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/5503773988888670613/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=5503773988888670613&amp;isPopup=true" title="13 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/5503773988888670613?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/5503773988888670613?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/TT9OQanJI5w/quarter-life-crisis.html" title="QUARTER LIFE CRISIS" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">13</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/05/quarter-life-crisis.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0YCSXw8cCp7ImA9WxJSFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-2843311379550104902</id><published>2009-05-06T09:26:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-06T09:26:08.278+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-06T09:26:08.278+03:00</app:edited><title>Mr. TMI weekend</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;br&gt;I had the unfortunate experience of having to sit down with two gross grown ass men..do i make any sense? Yes i suspected they were grown by the wrinkles showing that one has aged quite but tragically their minds were as empty as a hollow pipe can be. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;One was by his stories had grown up in golf and all. For those who know that language, it means their fathers played golf and by association they probably were golf kids..I don&amp;#39;t know how you make such statements show up in a conversation. The golf kid, never at any point mentioned what it is that he does in present day living but i gathered from his rather lengthy description of his siblings achievements that he probably is content basking in some yester years glory which learly judging from his jalopy didn&amp;#39;t exist any more. I try to figure out how comes my humble attempt to have lunch at a joint known for the scrumptiousness of it&amp;#39;s meat, had led my meeting with this golf kid. Everything happens for a reason. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyway i was in the company of two lasses, some may even call them young depending on which age group one belongs to. You see if you are 70, you may be tempted to call a 60 year old young. I told you folks, there is always someone older. I mean cut the crap about growing old..Our intention was to fill a stomach, but as soon as we got in, we saw a beckoning hand, from one of the lasses&amp;#39; friends. Let me let you in a secret, gals are always looking for the guy to pay the bill so we found ourselves sitting in the company of two not so young men, seeing as we are younger than them, do we call them young?No. One is pingud ya maisha, the other senior bachelor of the United Kenya.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The golf kid, is the pingud one. He went into excruciating details of how him and his wife had met. They way he did not love her. They way some chic had aborted his kid. TMI weekend. That he had loved once and would never love again. OMFG, who cares?&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The golf kid was pompous all without saying why he considered himself better than everyone else. His looks were nothing to write home about. I mean when placed next to Cesc Fabregas, yeah i had to sneak that one into this conversation.. His car was a jalopy. His apparel was not appealing to the eye. Nothing! &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyway there was a breaking point. One of the gals is quite good looking but a bit shorter than the rest of us. So the golf kid goes about telling her &amp;quot;You know if you were a bit tall, you would not hang out with this people and you would be so far&amp;quot;. Ok i was spoiling for a fight. WTH, how obnoxious can someone get. You don&amp;#39;t know me or the person you are addressing well. Well at that point i zoned out completely and he started pestering me not to be quiet. I didn&amp;#39;t have words to say to him. I thought of him like a pig which the muslims won&amp;#39;t touch because they consider it unholy. Let&amp;#39;s just say shortly we found our way out.Disgusted. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Episode Two; Why me Lord?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Usually not many people i hang out with especially if they have been introduced to me by some other person know what i do. So i met this guy, very entertaining and who concluded, i wanted him. I don&amp;#39;t know how that conclusion came into head. Maybe it is the PIlsner Mfalme that makes even lions cry. Anyway he told me of this chic she used to date in Campus (the same campus i was) but since you always need this information either to pass it on or blog about it, I listened and asked questions. I didn&amp;#39;t not even need to pester him about the name, where she works or anything. Information was provided free of charge. FREE. Anyway he told me of the sex positions they enjoyed, how she introduced anal sex, how many times she aborted. What was going on in my head is how many idiots are there in this country? &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyway when people meet you next time and they are smiling coyly at you, always wonder, could you have dated Mr. TMI. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-2843311379550104902?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/2843311379550104902/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=2843311379550104902&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2843311379550104902?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2843311379550104902?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/mEWPfDx_THg/mr-tmi-weekend.html" title="Mr. TMI weekend" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/05/mr-tmi-weekend.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEMRnY8cSp7ImA9WxJSFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-1000559412745349922</id><published>2009-05-04T11:42:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2009-05-04T11:44:47.879+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-05-04T11:44:47.879+03:00</app:edited><title>I AM HONEST</title><content type="html">&lt;div class=Section1&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ryp-gIqDQK4/Sf6DV2tHnJI/AAAAAAAAApw/NfOOznQL1BM/s1600-h/honest237e_1.jpg" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"; color:windowtext;text-decoration:none'&gt;&lt;img border=0 width=160 height=154 id="Picture_x0020_1" src="cid:image001.jpg@01C9CCA6.7CC989B0" alt="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ryp-gIqDQK4/Sf6DV2tHnJI/AAAAAAAAApw/NfOOznQL1BM/s400/honest237e_1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;span lang=EN style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"; color:black'&gt;1You must brag about the award&lt;br&gt; 2You must include the name of the blogger who bestowed the award on you and link back to the blogger&lt;br&gt; 3You must choose a minimum of seven (7) blogs that you find brilliant in content or design.&lt;br&gt; 4Show their names and links and leave a comment informing them that they were prized with Honest Weblog.&lt;br&gt; 5List at least ten (10) honest things about yourself. Then pass it on!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif";color:#31849B'&gt;She likes my style of writing and that is why I must do the tag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Wingdings;color:#31849B'&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif";color:#31849B'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif";color:#31849B'&gt;Lets see, honesty is my best policy so here it goes. Honestly I stole some question and style from Our Kid&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Tell us about one annoying habit you have.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;I like to ask questions. Many. I am never satisfied with just one answer. i like to know everything. I guess that&amp;#8217;s what motivated google. That means I google a lot. I google the names of movie characters when the movie is going on, I google everything I think it&amp;#8217;s important then of course google what is very unimportant. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Picture this; did you know Madonna and Angelina Jolie fought over a girl? A Chinese girl called Shimizu. google can confirm. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Tell us about your house&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; color:#333333'&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"; color:#31849B'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif";color:#31849B'&gt;I do not have a house, only a bedroom and I recently bought a fluffy pink blanket. Eew.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Do you love politics?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Yes I do, that is why I don&amp;#8217;t watch news anymore because that would mean I would hate politics. Can you imagine a grown ass man complaining about nusu kapeti&amp;#8230;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Why do you switch off your phone when you sleep&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Because I love to sleep, I love to sleep so much and my ring tone is also annoying. I also have trouble falling asleep if woken up at 3 and then I start blogging in my head. Then waste another whole day trying to catch up on lost sleep. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;What makes you happy?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;I am always almost trying to keep myself happy. That can mean a lot of things, I avoid sadness. I am also an escapist. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Something embarrassing&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Falling on the streets. Nothing beats it while strutting mitumba high heels (sic)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Why are you still blogging (I thought the X generation of blogging is long gone)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Because I have one thousand conversations in my head. Somebody might want to study girlinthemeadow for their campus literature project. I kid you not. I am now writing a study guide. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Is you and your blog persona different&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Yes. While I appear to be very opinionated and a bit exciting on my blog, the real me does not have an opinion and yes a bit dull and unexciting. &amp;nbsp;You cannot read much. Others say I am hard to please. In my blog, one comment can please me quite. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Are you judgmental and if so why?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Yes I am judgmental. About 40minutes, no 5 minutes I figure out much. Do I really want to spend an entire hour with you, do I make an exit plan, do I call for additional company. Sometimes and rarely I am wrong. I especially hate the ones with double lives, that I can clearly see. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Are you independent /fiercely independent/both/dependent&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;I can be all. But I prefer being independent.. I like to have my own stuff, do whatever I like. My mum quit her job, she was dependent on&amp;nbsp; a man. I didn&amp;#8217;t like what I saw. I prefer to be independent.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Why can&amp;#8217;t you still cook chapattis/drive a car&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;See this was a perfect weekend to learn how to cook chapattis, but going out is more attractive. Damn thank God polygamy is being allowed, I can settle easily to third position with no pressures of making perfect chapattis. I love that polygamy law, how come nobody thought about it earlier. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;How are bloggers in their real life like, I heard you have met all of them&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;Yeah I have met most of the generation X bloggers by choice and design. They are awesome quite unlike normal human&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:Wingdings;color:#333333'&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style='font-family:"Trebuchet MS","sans-serif";color:#333333'&gt;. No they are just normal people with jobs, wives, cars blah blah blah. I especially think they are the smartest people, I hang around Not kidding most generation X bloggers are achievers. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; margin-left:.25in'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"; color:#31849B'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif";color:black'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto'&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif";color:black'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Cambria","serif"'&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-1000559412745349922?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/1000559412745349922/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=1000559412745349922&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/1000559412745349922?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/1000559412745349922?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/Xp35nMvPO44/i-am-honest.html" title="I AM HONEST" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/05/i-am-honest.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8GSH4_fSp7ImA9WxJTGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-9139268498112578327</id><published>2009-04-28T18:50:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-28T18:50:29.045+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-28T18:50:29.045+03:00</app:edited><title>GUIDE TO THE MODERN INDEPENDENT WOMAN</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&amp;quot;shudders at the thought of the headline&amp;quot;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I am a self confessed modern independent woman and tired out of being misunderstood; but in my opinion (thank God for freedom of speec!) this is about some of what i think. My lists here i come&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;1. The word is &lt;strong&gt;Independent&lt;/strong&gt;. I don&amp;#39;t need to define independent. Ok for those who still don&amp;#39;t know&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(a) I need something, i get it. Don&amp;#39;t be surprised to hear i got something without your knowledge. I had a lot of problems with my dad, because he just couldn&amp;#39;t understand how i went, opened my bank a/c without his knowledge and i was 19. The reason a woman gets past primary school, secondary school then to university means she has some of those killer instincts men have. They need something, they get it. Understand our &amp;quot;man ego&amp;quot; to get our own stuff. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;It doesn&amp;#39;t mean you are any less superior or not needed. As Ne-Yo would say A woman who wants you but doesn&amp;#39;t need you. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;If you still don&amp;#39;t get it, tune to Kiss 100fm, a song played by the minute&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Miss Independent- Neyo&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;2. We hardly understand the male ego and why it needs to be pampered. Thankfully, there is a book on this one lately. Would never have figured on our own and anyway there are so many men to remind us of the fact. My male colleagues are experts on this matter.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;3. When we read &amp;quot;He is just not that into You&amp;quot; we felt like tossing it on the dust bin. We probably know that you are just that not into us...But independent women with that instinct still doesn&amp;#39;t want to lose. That is the main reason we keep on..especially if the opportunity for good sex looks promising. Other than that it is for ego satisfaction.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;4. We did well in school, we do well in our jobs, we start to think we can do well in everything. We still think we can fix your career, job, home. Lynette of Desperate Housewives struggles to keep a healthy balance between &lt;em&gt;what a woman is meant to be&lt;/em&gt; and the fact that she is smarter than her husband. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;5.If we don&amp;#39;t know how to fix a tyre, a bulb ( you are kidding me right) or those other things, we will learn it and from someone who knows it better than you. A mechanic perhaps. If  only you could understand. Sometimes we pretend we can&amp;#39;t fix the bulb just to appease that famous male ego&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;6. We understand you hate smart women and you will keep saying demeaning things to hurt us. This i have gone through. It&amp;#39;s not my fault i happened to read a lot of books (that makes one smart?) and especially where you are as read as i am, it&amp;#39;s just plain weirdo traditional shame on you thinking. It&amp;#39;s sick!&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;7. Learn to live with us. Less demanding. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;8. We don&amp;#39;t think the world revolves around men. Why don&amp;#39;t you just live with it. Many traditional women think that life is all about their men, which is what probably God intended it to be in 1652 before he made us smarter (even God changes his mind) yeah like you have not seen children are born with their eyes wide open these days! But really we love you. That&amp;#39;s it. But you don&amp;#39;t have the last word on everything. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;9. We love you as you are. For reals. We will even buy you a watch to show it! &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;10. We don&amp;#39;t get the part that a woman cannot have platonic male friends.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;11.When we meet a man, we assess him on very many levels. Providing for us is not one of those, this we can figure out. We look at your ability to say the truth, your family members, how our children might look and your ability to sustain conversation on various things. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-9139268498112578327?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/9139268498112578327/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=9139268498112578327&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/9139268498112578327?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/9139268498112578327?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/3_DSXnnSCEE/guide-to-modern-independent-woman.html" title="GUIDE TO THE MODERN INDEPENDENT WOMAN" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/04/guide-to-modern-independent-woman.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMNRX85eyp7ImA9WxVaGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-6229211252590609702</id><published>2009-04-16T15:54:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-04-16T15:54:54.123+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-04-16T15:54:54.123+03:00</app:edited><title>GAL CODE part 1</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;1. Don&amp;#39;t touch/flirt/call/text and other insane variations of looking interested;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(a) Your gal&amp;#39;s boyfriend (No brainer)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(b) Your gal&amp;#39;s ex- Unless you meet in the next life&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(c) Your gal&amp;#39;s love interest. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Exceptions&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;When it is a matter of life, death or purgatory.. I mean she must have asked you to call him.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;2. Don&amp;#39;t drink&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(a) and pass out. It&amp;#39;s embarassing unless you are 18-21 years of age&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(b) make insane accusations towards everyone like he touched my butt and begin fighting&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(c)fight&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(d)flirt with everyone&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;3. Badmouthing your gal&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It is incredulous that most chics find it extremely amusing and entertaining to air their best gal&amp;#39;s laundry to their boyfriends, all and sundry.Your gal shares with you because she trusts you. If you share it, you deserve a place next to Akinyi and Wanjala i.e. in an Indian Jail &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;4. Thou shall never leave your gal&amp;#39;s handbag behind. Unless there is a fire.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;5. When your gal argues with her man&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(a) Shut- Best option&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(b) Smile and hope the argument will go away&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(c) Commence a phone call&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(d) Look away as if to call the waiter&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Thou shall not &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(a) Pitch in&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(b) Support either. When you have to; support your gal, common sense&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;(c) Support the guy. Never&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-6229211252590609702?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/6229211252590609702/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=6229211252590609702&amp;isPopup=true" title="10 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/6229211252590609702?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/6229211252590609702?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/b2cIHfsZgao/gal-code-part-1.html" title="GAL CODE part 1" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/04/gal-code-part-1.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cGQns5eip7ImA9WxVVFUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-8281423740574770916</id><published>2009-03-09T13:37:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T13:37:03.522+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-09T13:37:03.522+03:00</app:edited><title>TRUE STORY...</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;Stuff sitcoms should be made of.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Girl: I want you all to myself&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Boy: mmmh (ignores)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Girl: Really, I am serious. I mean we have kinda been dating and we have already kissed enough times. C&amp;#39;mon&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Boy: Laughs (ignores)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Two days later&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Girl: Ooh God, when did i get to Page 20 while you are still at the preface&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Boy: What?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Girl: Yeah i mean you make me feel so stupid and like i am the only one who wants you. You think i am so naive...(words get lost) &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Boy: (Yawns) What do you want?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Girl: You &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Boy: Silence&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Girl: Ooh God, shall we write the epilogue already&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Boy: Tell me when you are done&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;****End of monologue****&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-8281423740574770916?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/8281423740574770916/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=8281423740574770916&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8281423740574770916?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8281423740574770916?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/Cr8X8LFlFOA/true-story.html" title="TRUE STORY..." /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/03/true-story.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYER3o8eip7ImA9WxVVE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-7476503927105053973</id><published>2009-03-06T08:41:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T08:41:46.472+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-06T08:41:46.472+03:00</app:edited><title>JUSTICE...REALLY?</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;If you are going to seek justice for an outlawed sect, you must also seek justice for the families whose lives have been destroyed, for Kenyans who are extorted daily by these groupings, for us who have had to walk long distances because of transport disruptions and for the millions in the slums who live every day in fear of being killed or maimed by others whose only strength is the force they use against others.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;That is all.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-7476503927105053973?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/7476503927105053973/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=7476503927105053973&amp;isPopup=true" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/7476503927105053973?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/7476503927105053973?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/FkduGJpbUAE/justicereally.html" title="JUSTICE...REALLY?" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/03/justicereally.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cEQXk8fSp7ImA9WxVWGUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-8292479668579811993</id><published>2009-03-02T12:09:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2009-03-02T12:10:00.775+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-03-02T12:10:00.775+03:00</app:edited><title>THINGS I LOVE TO DO</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;Some weekends are a blast, some are laid back, some are quiet...&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Just sleep- totally zoned out of the world. I love sleeping&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Visit friends/family- i just realized that some wonderful time with friends is cool&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Climb Ngong HIlls- I haven&amp;#39;t been there for a lil while but i like to push through the six hills once in a while. Yet to do the steep seventh hill&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Just sit in my room and think, organize&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Read- This normally alternate betwen sleeping and reading&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Hang out- despite the crunch, some hanging out doesn&amp;#39;t hurt especially with novida (lol)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-8292479668579811993?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/8292479668579811993/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=8292479668579811993&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8292479668579811993?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8292479668579811993?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/Th2nuiQE8WM/things-i-love-to-do.html" title="THINGS I LOVE TO DO" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/03/things-i-love-to-do.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU8NQ3g_fyp7ImA9WxVWFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-3825124986885850968</id><published>2009-02-26T14:31:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T14:31:32.647+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-26T14:31:32.647+03:00</app:edited><title>Violence in the family</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;How do you deal with an issue of domestic violence in your household?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Of course the first knee jerk reaction people have is &lt;strong&gt;Leave him.&lt;/strong&gt; And anyway it is the most sensible thing to do is leave him/her. I have been following this Chrihanna debacle. I think it&amp;#39;s clear that Chris Brown did actually attack Rihanna mercilessly at that. There are many arguments that followed including she gave him herpes or he was reading a text from a jump off and he started hitting her blah blah. That is not the issue. Violence is never an option. Ever. Ever.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So what happens when you meet a guy who batters you on a daily basis or as he wishes, do you leave, do you stay. It is always easy to assume you will just wake up and leave but folks i am about to dissapoint you. Love is not a fickle thing. Did you hear Rihanna wants to see her beater desperately...&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I will use my example. I am the first born. When i discovered my dad was violent, i was in Standard Three, i was a mere 8 year old. I won&amp;#39;t go to the excruciating details because they are just about too painful. But on that day i was present and it was in his car. I do not remember what it was about. My sis was 6 then and my brother just months old. So what should my mom done&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;Leave.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;She was not working at the time because those days women quit their jobs oftenly to look after their kids. I am not saying that all women who quit their jobs end up in violent marriages, but i would exercise caution while quitting my job to take care of a family. There are some men who actually respect women and their decision to quit their jobs. And no amount of dating would ever pre-empt the fact that your man is probably a violent one. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;*Derailer alert*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I was in the mat the other day, so the driver due to traffic decides to take another route instead of the normal one. What ensued really disturbed me. I can&amp;#39;t handle violence. The men decided they were going to beat the tout. One certain man went for that guy&amp;#39;s neck, literally. I was too sad for the situation. If that man whose face haunts me asked me for friendship, i would not offer him such a luxury. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My point, watch out for small signals. One day my friend&amp;#39;s boyfriend beat up a waiter, i think those are clear signals. If someone can beat an insignificant person in his life like a waiter, woe unto you, what will he do to you once you are married. Especially where the issue is really petty..&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyway my main issue is what do you do when violence abounds in your family?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;For one i am sure my mom would never have offered a better life for us alone. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Every kid deserves two parents where it is possible&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;We would probably have blamed her for leaving our dad&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The minute two people are joined together in marriage, there are several issues that play apart from the two. Do you just abandon your family, where do you start, how will you start, the depression that could ensue.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;And yet the psychological scars of living in a violent household are deep scathing. You never notice it because you think it&amp;#39;s fine. The first signs you get is the inability to form healthy relationships because you build a wall of defence. People would always ask me why i was always on the defensive. The thing is i had never noticed i was on the defensive. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I decided to deal with issue publicly because i knew a lot of people probably have been victims of domestic violence. The other thing you might always do is always blaming others for your problems. If a relationship does not work, could it have something to do with you? You are always quick to point out the faults in that other person and yet it could have been you all the time. The opposite of this is now the people who believe everything is their fault. You find yourself obsessing over details at night because you probably think it is your fault something didn&amp;#39;t work.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I could not let you into my life to an extent that you felt comfortable with me. I always thought that if someone knew what it is i had gone through, they would not appreciate the strong person i pose to be. I am learning slowly to accept that it is ok to show emotions, to be who i am, to let people love you. There is a time i didn&amp;#39;t believe that it was possible for someone to just love me, JUST. I rarely would tell people i loved them, even when i did. Someone once begged me to tell them. I just couldn&amp;#39;t. Yet i know there are people always ready to say I love you even when they don&amp;#39;t mean it. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyway back to the issues; what is the best way to deal with violence. Pray that your man will change, Leave him, Love him and tell everyone that the black eye was caused by you falling down the stairs. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;On a personal level, i would leave and have you arrested. And that is not a bluff. But how do you explain to the kids that you just did their dad in. By the way most horrible husbands are good fathers (not always). I can tell you for sure, i probably would not leave with my mum, i never did eventually. Do you discuss things with your kids and ask them to choose where they would be most comfortable..&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I have too much questions in my head which i cannot answer.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-3825124986885850968?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/3825124986885850968/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=3825124986885850968&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3825124986885850968?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3825124986885850968?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/p13IV0jNJIQ/violence-in-family.html" title="Violence in the family" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/violence-in-family.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CU8HQ34_eSp7ImA9WxVWFUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-4346164973947937968</id><published>2009-02-25T12:23:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-25T12:23:52.041+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-25T12:23:52.041+03:00</app:edited><title>Can you keep a Secret-Part Deux</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;font color="#800080"&gt;&lt;/font&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font color="#800080"&gt;This week is all about mwa. So don&amp;#39;t patient out&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font color="#800080"&gt;Part 1 here &lt;/font&gt;&lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2006/08/can-you-keep-secret.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2006/08/can-you-keep-secret.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;ol&gt; &lt;li&gt; I listen to Amy Winehouse &amp;quot;You Know I&amp;#39;m no Good&amp;quot; several times a day-play, replay. She is like the most amazing artiste of our times. Too bad she is a hot mess. Crack and all is not doing her justice. Get off them Ms. Wino and make music!&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;I know most of Britney Spears songs lyrics and all. Been a fan since &amp;#39;99. I don&amp;#39;t judge artistes. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I was to get rid of celebrity gossip blogs but work can be boring such that Nicole Kidman having a botox become extremely interesting news. How else would i know Chris aka Rihanna beater is known CBreezy. How interesting can a celeb tossing out garbage,I need to do something. I really should have an opportunity to call someone treckalicious (train +Wreck)&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;I once gave a bribe. Making out in public parks is an offence right? Stop looking at me with those eyes:)&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I am really sleepy right now&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I am kinda defiant.I hate rules. I like to draft the rules for others to follow, but not me. I kinda shoot straight to the hip, i know some people don&amp;#39;t like it but if you are looking for advice, i am very sober. &lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;I believe in natural intuition. If i can&amp;#39;t connect with someone naturally, i don&amp;#39;t force. I am kinda lazy on working on stuff, so they better work themselves out 80%.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;On number 7, i have always easily gotten stuff. Like i didn&amp;#39;t have to read so hard in school to pass. Once i start writing , it  just comes to my head. I have never have had to really work for something. People like me without no effort on my part. On the other hand i have watched people work so hard to even establish relationships, pass school and just to get ahead in life. &lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;I have most of my friend&amp;#39;s numbers in my head such that when i lose a phone, i don&amp;#39;t lose much in terms of contacts. I remember very trivial details.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I just don&amp;#39;t forget events unless i have purposed to.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I remember most of what i dream. I kinda interpret my dreams. Like i have kept dreaming about rejection from a certain person, it is so scary yet i know these dreams are very true. They say you can know that someone is your Mr. Right just from paying more attention to your dreams about them. &lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;I can think. Yes i can. Then find someone else to implement what i think. We will both be very successful. Don&amp;#39;t expect me to do both.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;It really took me a lot of time to know that i could be creative. I never fancied myself as creative. The other day i sat down to write fiction, i was shocked, i wrote for a whole afternoon. Sadly my computer got a virus and i lost the story. &lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;Ther is a gal i have known since 2000, no matter how long we are apart, when we sit down to talk, it&amp;#39;s always as if we have never been apart for a single day. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I talk to myself a lot, not loudly like a looney, just in my head. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-4346164973947937968?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/4346164973947937968/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=4346164973947937968&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/4346164973947937968?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/4346164973947937968?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/8SaE7ZtLgRs/can-you-keep-secret-part-deux.html" title="Can you keep a Secret-Part Deux" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/can-you-keep-secret-part-deux.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04BRno_fip7ImA9WxVWFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-390686333807460872</id><published>2009-02-24T09:12:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-24T09:12:37.446+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-24T09:12:37.446+03:00</app:edited><title>We are 18 Again</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;And boy aren&amp;#39;t we excited!&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;br&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-390686333807460872?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/390686333807460872/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=390686333807460872&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/390686333807460872?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/390686333807460872?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/eKujtwIIrEE/we-are-18-again.html" title="We are 18 Again" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/we-are-18-again.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AER3Y6eCp7ImA9WxVWE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-3713698310444053105</id><published>2009-02-23T09:48:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T09:48:26.810+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-23T09:48:26.810+03:00</app:edited><title>REFLECTIONS</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;You know they say sometimes you have to face the past. TMI i know. I am gonna come clean any way.I am 27 years old tommorow, Only 27. Like 27 Years old from now i will be 54. I am really young. I thank His Almighty, him up there for the love and guidance.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So i was reading somewhere, that you have to face the past. I just ignore it. Somehow i hope after writing this i will be a better not bitter person.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;As much as i hated being a child, i have realized that the innocence you have when you are one, is the kind that should be preserved for years on end. Because when my eyes opened to the world, i was done. It hit me that my folks had a tumultous relationship. My relatives were of the worst breed (on my paternal side). Somehow i just wonder how is it i turned out to be this bubbly person. I have about the most positive energy i know and it is not pretentious. I have a big heart and i share it&amp;nbsp;with people.&amp;nbsp;What i cannot tolerate are bad relationships of any kind. Let me repeat that; i cannot tolerate bad relationships. Be it with my parents, friends or lovers. I have this mantra that runs in my life; I&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; only need my soul to survive:) &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter !: 3-10 years&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My relationship with my mum was not exactly the best. Let me be honest at this point i do not think i have ever had an extremely good relationship with my mum on a daughter-mum basis ( anyway i will get to that). My dad at this point treated my mum horribly, but we all didn&amp;#39;t know :(. My mum has inlaws from hell. One of the reasons why i just don&amp;#39;t feel the need to marry young is because you are always so vulnerable.&amp;nbsp; Picture this you are trying to grow up and you have children growing up and a bad marriage. I love my dad to bits but i cannot exactly vouch for him as a good husband. My mum is super strong. If i were her, i would probably be dead and buried or suffering from a bad form of depression. The way i get depressed by small stuff. I think i have been open on this blog before; my dad was the violent kind. He never hit us kids, but he hit my mum. We were scared of my dad, he was always shouting at us, so any time he came in we would scatter. Let me clarify; my dad has since changed and no he did not get saved:). &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;One thing i knew is that i would never want to be an unhappy person. I would never let anyone treat me badly. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;11-20 years&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;This time around tables had turned. My dad and I at this point had a bad relationship because by then i was old enough to realize that he had been treating my mum badly. My mum told me so much stuff, i think she was suffering so much that she had no one else to turn to but a 12 year old. I lost my innocence at this point. I began to see my dad for what he really was and he began to notice. We quarreled badly, i was very defiant. I did not see why he needed to exact control over everyone. We fought, i told him stuff, he threatened to beat me up, he never did. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;20-Now&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;My mum at this point left our house. She did not tell me why she left. I merely existed at this point. I was in campus taking two courses. I barely passed my third year. I was drinking heavily:(. I rarely talked to anyone about what was happening. Anyway most of my friends were really obsessed with themselves and what was going on in their lives and our interests were boys and other stuff. . My relationships suffered. Then I began to face real resistance from my paternal relatives.&amp;nbsp;Whereas all along, my mother took the brunt of it all, i was left exposed with a father who would always&amp;nbsp;take no sides. Left to fend and defend my&amp;nbsp;siblings, i had no other alternative, i had to&amp;nbsp;fight and hard. &amp;nbsp;They thought they could come to our house, stay as they wished, say whatever they wanted&amp;nbsp;and basically rule. &amp;nbsp;My paternal grandmother decided that children should go with their mother and she did not hide that fact. Well she said it too loudly.&amp;nbsp;What they had not prepared for is my strong backlash. I fought them one by one until they surrendered. I was branded an enemy and a bad person ( like i would give a damn!). At the end of the battle was renewed respect. Nobody comes to our house without notice and even then after one day you are expected to be on your way out unless there is a reason&amp;nbsp;why not and i have personally asked you to stay.You mind your business; i mind mine. Let&amp;#39;s not confuse those facts.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;How bad relationships affected my&amp;nbsp;life&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;ol&gt; &lt;li&gt;I was continuously tired- My back and neck pained all the time. I had to really exercise to get rid of this problem. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I entered into bad relationships- I lacked the energy to form good relationships. At this point bad boys become very attractive. My friends were not exactly helping&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;I lost that focus- I had always known what i wanted in life. But especially in campus, i did other things more than i studied. Due to the void that was left at home, i found an escape especially in alcohol and clubs. I escaped from reality so much, but that was though good for me.&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;I was always taking care of other people-My mum, my siblings. I kinda got this thing that i had to be there and listen, offer advice. But at the end of the day you are so drained, you have nothing to offer yourself. You take less care of yourself and this can be reflected even in your appearance, dressing and such. It took&amp;nbsp; me a lot of time s&lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ol&gt; &lt;div&gt;What i have learnt&lt;/div&gt; &lt;ol&gt; &lt;li&gt;Despite how your life has been, tomorrow is a new day. You can chose to be bitter or live. I choose to live. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Always read self development material- You never know how sick you can be. People think those books are useless, but i have read loads of them. How to form good relationships with people always look so much like common sense should tell you but the truth is, what if you have never been shown how to.&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;Read, read, read- If nothing else. Of course and write.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Always to thank God for what i have and work for what i don&amp;#39;t have- I think i had a dose of low self esteem at some point, after all when your parents are fighting, love for everyone else takes the backseat. My mom was so involved in her problems that most of the time she was just quarreling us for things we had not done. Todate i cannot call my mum for advice or just to talk my normal life with her. I don&amp;#39;t blame her. I have a blog&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;Maybe someone&amp;#39;s reading and just wondering so what you have had a bad life, it wasn&amp;#39;t entirely bad. My parents are still very responsible especially where finances and education are concerned. I still live in my dad&amp;#39;s house free of charge. Me and my siblings have a very good relationship. i don&amp;#39;t know how we managed to have our entirely different life from what my parents had. Nobody treats us badly mainly because we protect ourselves really. ooh and Boarding school helped.&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;It is good to take charge of your family, if you don&amp;#39;t others will trample on it. This is especially true for&amp;nbsp;men.If you don&amp;#39;t, you will regret it.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Don&amp;#39;t marry young,&amp;nbsp; the twenties are still the best years of my single life. And all those pressurizing me to get married/your clock is ticking, i suggest you get a life. Leave mine alone. If my clock ticks, it ticks on me, not you. Would you shut up already!&lt;/li&gt;  &lt;li&gt;You don&amp;#39;t have to take crap from anyone. This universe prouds itself of &lt;strong&gt;6 billion&lt;/strong&gt; people.&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Some people just won&amp;#39;t change. Don&amp;#39;t force them to. If someone is not responsible, they might never be. &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt;Patience is overrated. Get a life now already!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &lt;div&gt;One last thing, I feel so good.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;That must have been the longest post i ever did and i have said about 0.02%. Somebody get me a book deal.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I need a thing to do on my last day as a 26 year old. I am done piercing my ears. Maybe i should get a bikini wax &lt;strong&gt;not&lt;/strong&gt;. Give me suggestions please..&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-3713698310444053105?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/3713698310444053105/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=3713698310444053105&amp;isPopup=true" title="9 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3713698310444053105?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3713698310444053105?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/pdIdldDA928/reflections.html" title="REFLECTIONS" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/reflections.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8FRHsyeSp7ImA9WxVWEE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-5038652602524790869</id><published>2009-02-19T13:20:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T13:20:15.591+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-19T13:20:15.591+03:00</app:edited><title>Things about girls that can be explained</title><content type="html">1. Why girls tag along on dates&lt;p&gt;You prolly think it&amp;#39;s stupid. Which it is. Why would a mature gal tag her&lt;br&gt;best friend and others for a date that was meant to be yours only.&lt;br&gt;It&amp;#39;s because  she thinks you are boring or thinks she needs the backup&lt;br&gt;incase you turn to be a serial murderer/stalker. She wants to test if you&lt;br&gt;are really that boring.It&amp;#39;s this simple.  If yes, she has an exit plan.&lt;br&gt;*If no, she loses the friends.*&lt;p&gt;&lt;br&gt; 2.Why girls throw tantrums&lt;p&gt;I was having  a talk on my friend and she was telling me how she throws&lt;br&gt;tantrums if her boy shows other chics attention. By the way PMS is also&lt;br&gt;real. Just in case you were wondering. I am not talking about abuses, i am&lt;br&gt;talking about sulking and complaining about everything generally. This&lt;br&gt;conversation may ensue;&lt;p&gt;Girl:You don&amp;#39;t buy me anything these days&lt;br&gt;Boy: Really&lt;br&gt;Girl: Infact when is the last time you called me&lt;br&gt;(doesn&amp;#39;t wait for answer)&lt;br&gt;Girl: So why did you receive texts from that chic&lt;br&gt;Boy: I can&amp;#39;t help, she just texts me&lt;br&gt;Girl: Call her, tell her not to text you anymore&lt;br&gt;Boy: You know i can&amp;#39;t do that&lt;br&gt;Girl: You don&amp;#39;t love me, that&amp;#39;s why&lt;p&gt;*Girls hate to lose control*.&lt;p&gt;3.Crying over Ronaldinho...or Thierry Henry&lt;p&gt;Seriously he isn&amp;#39;t even cute. All girls could say was haa, that hair!&lt;br&gt;Seriously THAT HAIR! *AND* it was the World cup. That was not the point&lt;br&gt;really. *We hardly understand football*&lt;p&gt;4. She disappears on you in the club&lt;br&gt;Dude seriously..you are clande. It&amp;#39;s called the disappearance act.&lt;p&gt;5.Pretending we can&amp;#39;t cook&lt;p&gt;We might not be able to whip out lasagna de la...you get it but certainly&lt;br&gt;80% of the women folk know how to cook. This is .ke really. Don&amp;#39;t get&lt;br&gt;fooled. We just don&amp;#39;t want to do it before *YOU PUT A RING ON IT.*&lt;p&gt;6.Sex and the city, lipstick jungle, desperate housewives, gossip girls,&lt;br&gt;cosmopolitan, true love, sex and the city ( i know) and all other books and&lt;br&gt;magazines dedicated to women.&lt;p&gt; I and myself is a great lover of chic lit and flicks....&lt;p&gt;These are dating and life bibles. Just incase you did not know.&lt;p&gt; 7. Why there is one dancing style&lt;p&gt;Seriously this one beats me. I am actually convinced there could be a place&lt;br&gt;in Nairobi people check in to practice styles on the next club banger.&lt;br&gt;Gyrating hips, move left right, bend down..you get the drift. Remember the&lt;br&gt;obsessions? What would we have done without our waists.&lt;p&gt;8. Shoes and clothes&lt;p&gt;Why would someone want a whole closet of shoes? Well Imelda Marcos certainly&lt;br&gt;did start the pace. But have you ever walked by a shoe shop and seen all&lt;br&gt;those shoes that could look nice on your feet ok awesome on your feet. I am&lt;br&gt;not even a shoe freak and i still get so moved by cute shoes.&lt;p&gt;9. Its Me and Me only&lt;p&gt;Which part of Me don&amp;#39;t you understand.&lt;p&gt;10. Sci-Fi, football, changing tyres,&lt;br&gt;Uuh?&lt;p&gt;11.Tyra Banks, Oprah, La Mujer  de la.....(dedicated to M)&lt;br&gt;The shoes, the clothes, the jewellery, the makeovers. That&amp;#39;s why. Ooh and&lt;br&gt;the menaresuchlosers..Mr. right still exists. Oxymoron?&lt;p&gt;12.ATTENTION&lt;br&gt;We love attention. We love attention. We love attention. Especially from&lt;br&gt;guys we like&lt;p&gt; 13. What is whining&lt;p&gt;We don&amp;#39;t whine, we only express our disgust at your bad behaviour in a&lt;br&gt;shrieking loud voice. Expression not whining not nagging.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-5038652602524790869?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/5038652602524790869/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=5038652602524790869&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/5038652602524790869?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/5038652602524790869?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/NgLTq7HSQdQ/things-about-girls-that-can-be.html" title="Things about girls that can be explained" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/things-about-girls-that-can-be.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkcCQ3g-fip7ImA9WxVXFU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-8441219684500520735</id><published>2009-02-13T08:47:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-13T08:47:42.656+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-13T08:47:42.656+03:00</app:edited><title>The Valentine...</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Yesterday i had an extremely desperate thought or rather my friend said I did;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Out of the world&amp;#39;s population, someone is going to be without a Valentine :)&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Now i am googling what fraction of the world population&amp;nbsp;constitutes men. Only i end up busting at these particular question;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://homepages.tesco.net/~scotsnet/o.f.carter/fun/fun340.htm" target="_blank"&gt;How many honest, intelligent, caring men in the world does it take to do the dishes?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;And this one&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;a onclick="return top.js.OpenExtLink(window,event,this)" href="http://uk.answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=1006032002001" target="_blank"&gt;How many more men are there in the world than woman?&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Seriously I am about to ask;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;How many stupid people are trolling on the net without learning basic English?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&amp;quot;derailer alert&amp;quot;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Women in general have a problem in choosing their mates because men got the priority to take this role first. Probably this is the elimination method; &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Too short&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Too fat&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Too broke&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Too tall&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Too boring&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Too talkative&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;And then there is of course the Mr. He is Just not&amp;nbsp;that into You. The character that was supposedly invented by&amp;nbsp;Greg Behrendt(Yeah i just spelt his name correctly) and Liz Tucillo. As is usual with all kind of inventions, the returns have been astronomical.Soaring books sales and movie tickets.&amp;nbsp;A while ago us gals were sent all kind of signs;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;He is not picking up your phone&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;He is not calling/texting back&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;He hardly spends any time with you&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;He seems distant when called&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;For years and years, gals could never invent a suitable name for this guy. So they haunted, stalked this guy hoping that he would change. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Until Greg had a Eureka moment! He just is not that into you!Wow&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;The movie is now a list topper and Ken Kwapis is the latest name as far as directing a movie. What is sad though the movie was not here in time for the Valentine.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;The Mr. He is just that into You just regained the position supremo. And how did this guy become so famous? You know they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. The Mr. Not into you&amp;#39;s journey starts with very good intentions, only halfway there he realizes he jumped on the wrong train. But you know&amp;nbsp;the Mr. Not into you just doesn&amp;#39;t jump off the train, he knows it&amp;#39;s dangerous to. He sends mixed signs. One day he is Mr. So into you the next day he is Mr. whuthufukareyou.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Then there is the player&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Do you remember Vivica Fox?&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;I am sure you can hardly remember the last time you heard her name. This is the same time the Player was in vogue. I can remember a few movies;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;The player&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Getting played&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Chasing papi&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Two can play this game&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Then the player got boring or accepted as he is. I don&amp;#39;t know which one happened first. So why should i talk about the player if nobody cares.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;The Stalker&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;There is the Mr. Just not into you, then there is the Ms. Just that not into you. The problem is that a diagnosis was done for the Mr. not the Ms. So men are still for a book to diagnose the same for them. it is not happening. Men don&amp;#39;t lose, and that is all there is to it. So Mr. can&amp;#39;t accept she just is not that into you starts the stalking. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;You get 30 missed calls, don&amp;#39;t answer any.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;You switch off your phone and get 20 text messages of apologies&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Everywhere you go; there he is&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Woe unto you, if he knows your workplace&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;Let&amp;#39;s just say this one is scary. He starts off being so nice that would put the best performing husband into shame. He does all the right things, picks you up, call you every morning and five other times during the day. In his world, you are a princess/queen OR SO YOU THINK. I have gained mad respect for the usual Kenyan man. &lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;So he gains edge into your space, while keeping his distant. Then you get bored. Nice is boring. When you start moving away the Mr. Stalker shows his real side. He calls you names one day and spends the next day apologizing.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;There is only one thing you can do; stay away from him. He could physically harm you.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;THE USUAL KENYAN MAN&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;My favourite.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;When it gets to the stage of him doing some things for you, it could be 2 years since you started dating. He takes his time to know you and others, then finally settles on you.&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;font size="4"&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-8441219684500520735?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/8441219684500520735/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=8441219684500520735&amp;isPopup=true" title="5 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8441219684500520735?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8441219684500520735?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/dofi6kjN1O0/valentine.html" title="The Valentine..." /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/valentine.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DU4HQ3c8eip7ImA9WxVXE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-6986513040102540379</id><published>2009-02-11T07:52:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-11T07:52:12.972+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-11T07:52:12.972+03:00</app:edited><title>The "ME" syndrome</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Sometimes i like to stare at people and just learn a few things. Like i am at&amp;nbsp;the bus stop and people are waiting for a bus when suddenly one comes and they start pushing and shoving each other just to make sure they are the first to board the bus. It&amp;#39;s called the scarcity mentality, that there are not enough buses so i have to shove and push everyone else to get on that bus. Normally i will just watch until everyone has gotten in and if there is space remaining, i will hop in, else i will just wait for another bus.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;if there is something that is prevalent in Nairobi and i guess all other cities is generally the &amp;quot;ME&amp;quot; syndrome. The one that makes the speaker think he would rather live in a palatial residence when everyone else can barely have their needs met. In the estate i live, many people drive their own cars, hardly would you get a lift from anyone just because it is raining or stuff unless they are known to you. Of course they is always an exception, but it is the norm. Anyway, that&amp;#39;s beside the point, no one is obliged to help any one else. IN the Nakumatt fire tragedy, two of the victims live in my estate. It was a sad affair. Someone went round distributing a flier that members of the estate should each contribute Ksh. 1,000 towards expenses and stuff. And our household will contribute. What&amp;#39;s my point is, in this world when all is said and done, we need people as much as they need us. It just doesn&amp;#39;t seem to occur when it&amp;#39;s the other person that needs you.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Which brings me to another thing, friends. I have few friends i can tell genuinely know stuff about me. Infact i can hardly count 3. Because most people are so obsessed with themselves and their problems or lack thereof that it is hard to let them in to your life. Most people just don&amp;#39;t care about the other person, they go and on about stuff because they are usually the most important person. Usually i will just listen. Infact that is my specialty. I just cut down the time i spend with a person. I don&amp;#39;t care what you give to me, i believe friends are supposed to know as much about each other. Friendship is sacred. A friend can build or destroy you without your knowledge. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So today, get out of yourself and think about others more. They will notice. Trust me&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-6986513040102540379?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/6986513040102540379/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=6986513040102540379&amp;isPopup=true" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/6986513040102540379?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/6986513040102540379?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/1JfinCwRIWQ/me-syndrome.html" title="The &quot;ME&quot; syndrome" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/me-syndrome.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcEQ3kyfCp7ImA9WxVXEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-8363764128311423241</id><published>2009-02-10T09:06:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T09:06:42.794+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-10T09:06:42.794+03:00</app:edited><title>PARENTS AND FINANCES</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Inspired by this post&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://fabulouslybrokeinthecity.blogspot.com/2009/02/parents-finances-what-have-you-received.html"&gt;http://fabulouslybrokeinthecity.blogspot.com/2009/02/parents-finances-what-have-you-received.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;When it comes to finances, my parents are the best. Even if i still live at home, due to circumstances that are not really in my control. Nobody makes me feel like i owe them anything. My dad was abandoned early by his parents i mean financially, so i don&amp;#39;t think he would like any of his kids to suffer the same fate.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Anyway my folks rarely ask me for anything. Not even the random &amp;quot;si ukuje na maziwa&amp;quot;. Anything i give, is out of my own love and affection. Granted i do participate in paying some stuff especially bulk food shopping. &lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But that&amp;#39;s me. My pals stories are different. One of my friends who uses her folks car over the weekday has to pay insurance for it&amp;nbsp;and fuel it, which is ok granted that she is using it for hersef. What worries her though is the fact that when they take the car over the weekends, they use all fuel she has paid for and return the car at E. All the years she has been struggling with her school fees and her parents still had the audacity to send her brothers over to get school fees and shopping and stuff.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;There is something most folks wont understand. The 20&amp;#39;s years for most people is the time they acquire savings, investments, assets. How are they going to do that, if they expect kids to pay school fees and stuff ESPECIALLY if they are still able to do it themselves.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Most of my friend&amp;#39;s parents are well off, i just don&amp;#39;t understand why they expect their children to meet so much expenses just because they are employed. Do they know how life is expensive it is to live in Nairobi for their own. I know some people help their folks out because they truly can&amp;#39;t afford to pay stuff on their own, which i would do if i was in the same situation.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;But what about the times they can afford, do you think you should take their responsibilities for the younger siblings?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;&lt;br&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-8363764128311423241?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/8363764128311423241/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=8363764128311423241&amp;isPopup=true" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8363764128311423241?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/8363764128311423241?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/r9ZSNfhrXKY/parents-and-finances.html" title="PARENTS AND FINANCES" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/parents-and-finances.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8NQHw6eyp7ImA9WxVQF0k.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-3626484990059084963</id><published>2009-02-04T13:10:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T13:21:31.213+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-02-04T13:21:31.213+03:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Finances" /><title>CREDIT CRUNCH</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;I have never talked about finances on this blog. However, i have to admit the credit crunch has caught up with me, apart from my usual job, i used to have 2 to 3 extra gigs going on every month. I can with a lil shame report that it is actually getting harder to get work these days. People are not spending as much as they used to and my field is the easiest to cut back on. I am not though going to cut on my savings and without extra income my budget will have to adjust a bit until things improve.&lt;/div&gt;  &lt;div&gt;I plan on embarking on an expensive venture at the end of this year hopefully, so forgive my murderous deprivation, i hope no one gets hurt. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;So things i am going to do;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;ol&gt; &lt;li&gt; &lt;div clear="all"&gt;My hair- One of my greatest extravagance has been on my&amp;nbsp;hair. I have&amp;nbsp;about 3&amp;nbsp;different&amp;nbsp;types of treatments, hair sprays etc. I go to the salon every&amp;nbsp;week.&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt;Savings expected&lt;/strong&gt;; No more buying of treatments until the ones i have are over, salon visits to be reduced to once per fortnight. Let's say no more hair products till the ones i have are over. I just have this funny obsessive habit of buying hair products even when the ones i have in the house are half way. Same goes for skin lotion. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt; &lt;div clear="all"&gt;Less hanging out- because beer and cab fare is expensive when you have a tight budget.Now, i have to look for a new vice?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt; &lt;div clear="all"&gt;Carry packed lunch always- I do carry packed lunch but not always and as such every time i eat out in town, it costs about 200/= or more not to mention that you may catch some amoebas and typhoid on the way&lt;/div&gt; &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt; &lt;div clear="all"&gt;Do calculated shopping; That is easy because hawkers are out of the streets and Ngara has too much teargas. The stuff you buy on the street only look attractive for a few days and then it goes to the big nakumatt bag in my bedroom. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;/li&gt; &lt;li&gt; &lt;div clear="all"&gt;Sadly no trips until the crunch is over. I wanted to go everywhere, Zanzibar, Malindi, now it will have to wait. Trips are expensive when all is said and done&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt; &lt;div clear="all"&gt;I am considering having one of the pets Paris Hilton talks about. I know it is blonde to quote her but nonetheless&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;font class="sqq"&gt;"Every woman should have four pets in her life. A mink in her closet, a jaguar in her garage, a tiger in her bed, and &lt;u&gt;&lt;strong&gt;a jackass who pays for everything."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;And by the way no sorrys, this is not a pity party. Just adjusting to a hard life&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-3626484990059084963?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/3626484990059084963/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=3626484990059084963&amp;isPopup=true" title="8 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3626484990059084963?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/3626484990059084963?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/Xmaat_o1GcU/credit-crunch.html" title="CREDIT CRUNCH" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/02/credit-crunch.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAGQnY8cSp7ImA9WxVQEEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-2206114241650302728</id><published>2009-01-27T15:02:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-01-27T15:02:03.879+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-27T15:02:03.879+03:00</app:edited><title>TYPES OF CAB DRIVERS</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;If you are a regular or not so regular user of cabs in Nairobi town you may have noticed a common pattern among cabbies&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mr. I won&amp;#39;t say anything&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;This tend to be&amp;nbsp;a bit old. The most they ask is what your destination is and keep quiet for the whole journey. This i don&amp;#39;t like very much because i like to engage some people in some good discussion.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Mr. i want your opinion&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;This have their own opinions but before they give you theirs they want to hear yours. Conversation will go hence&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Cabbie: Who do you think will win the election&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Answer: I don&amp;#39;t know, maybe Kibaki&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Cabbie: No no you know i heard that Raila is the one to win&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Why were you asking me?&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The conversation will probably go downhill from there and you will be bombarded with all manners of facts and fiction.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;The Mr. I wanna know about you and what you do.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;The conversation will probably go this way&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Cabbie: Where do you work (As in all Kenyans where you work is probably more important than your own name)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;A: This and this place&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Cabbie: How is so and so (meaning how is the CE?)&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;A: He is good&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Cabbie: I know him through so and so and so&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;A: Cool&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;It will then degenarate to discussions about the so and so&amp;#39;s, you, what you think of your company and finally the advice you give to them. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;Feel free to share your cab drivers experiences. I am looking at you 3Toc.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-2206114241650302728?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/2206114241650302728/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=2206114241650302728&amp;isPopup=true" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2206114241650302728?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/2206114241650302728?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/OoP5qE53URM/types-of-cab-drivers.html" title="TYPES OF CAB DRIVERS" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/01/types-of-cab-drivers.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkEFQXY_cSp7ImA9WxVRGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10895367.post-1481920436681999166</id><published>2009-01-26T11:30:00.001+03:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T11:30:10.849+03:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2009-01-26T11:30:10.849+03:00</app:edited><title>Monday</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br clear="all"&gt;Ok now there is this breed of men who have taken to dutifully call me/text me on Monday mornings. The kind who won&amp;#39;t text or call from Friday 1700hrs to Monday 1100 hrs.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;Now, i have no problem if you don&amp;#39;t want to talk to me during the weekend because i do not care but why Monday morning.&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;1. I do not run a duty register on Monday mornings&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;2. I do not like being disturbed on Monday mornings, i am probably sleeping, cussing the weekend is over. All this with the help of coffee. Please leave me and my coffee alone for a bonding session&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;3. Boss is probably issuing instructions from all corners (ok re-read) even if they are not in the office&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;I never used to have this problem but the number has since increased from 1 (that one is special and was allowed) but 3? You had a whole weekend and you want to catch up with me on Monday. &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;That is all. Really lame, I know.&lt;br&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10895367-1481920436681999166?l=sylkwan.blogspot.com'/&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/feeds/1481920436681999166/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=10895367&amp;postID=1481920436681999166&amp;isPopup=true" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/1481920436681999166?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/10895367/posts/default/1481920436681999166?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/GirlInTheMeadow/~3/HMP0owU-I58/monday.html" title="Monday" /><author><name>Girl In the Meadow</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07515812698922455315</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty name="OpenSocialUserId" value="02750733334983958342" /></author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://sylkwan.blogspot.com/2009/01/monday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>
