Day 1

My mother said.....

2013-04-19T13:47:00.000+03:00

I am older now and I have moved on with the my life. Somehow, all the things my mother has ever said make alot more sense now. They never made sense when I was 23. They made alot less sense when I was 13. But now, she has become my endless well of wisdom. I was reading through the bata_kenya blog on lessons from mum and it made me think....ALL MOTHERS ARE THE SAME!!...almost! They may have been raised from totally different backgrounds but motherhood has bonded them with a common language. Almost like this: My mother is a very talkative woman and a very forceful one at that. You wouldn't tell that from first looking at her. Just slightly over 5' and yellow as a banana. There's something about light skinned people that make them look less harmless! She is a slight woman. She has exercised everyday since I was born. Probably everyday since the day she could walk. But with all her height and body constraints, my mother has been a very big presence in our lives. She is both the biggest critic and the biggest supporter. Here are a few tips from this small, banana-coloured woman: 1. Mind the shillings, the millions will take care of themselves: She told me that she got this little tit bit from my father. It has made my family a people of miserly qualities. We look for the cheapest bars, we carry food to work (and when we forget, we starve), we save lose coins in large jars in the house, not to mention the multiple accounts where we save little amounts of cash. I don't think I consciously go around singing this mantra but subconsciously I do end up doing much more with my money than I would have. :-) 2. Buy good quality clothes, Fashion will always come around: My mother has always been a meticulous dresser. She only shops at this 2 stores in town. Its only once or twice a year but those clothes can be passed on from generation to generation. And fashion does come around. I now wear her suits and borrow her handbags. I knew brands like Tahari from her and how to tell good leather bags from fake ones. She has taught me colour co-ordination and that simple straight lines never go out of style. We may have conflicting styles when we come to my casual wardrobe but the rules of fashion shall remain: quality quality quality. 3. Be the best employee you can be, you are there for a reason: I have complained bitterly to her about previous jobs and past bosses and useless payslips. ~~My dad zones out from such conversations~~ (I can tell from the filmy look his eyes get). My mum is a woman of faith and she believes that there is something to learn from every place of employment. 'Be the best there and God will take you to a better job' she says, 'Work as if for the Lord' she says. I have to say, her method seems to be working quite well even though I ~~sometimes~~most times I am unable to follow it. 4. Marry your best friend: 10 years from now you want someone you want to talk to. She used to push me to marriage, that woman, then suddenly, that took a turn of events. Maybe she got reconfigured in Y2K, maybe its the grandkids, maybe its new wisdom with old age. I don't know. Her advice is that you need to get someone who calls to find out where you are when you get late, who understands your problems and holds your hand, who still makes you laugh 30 years down the line. However this piece of wisdom comes with a rejoinder, 'if you meet that man, it is not your moment to run off to pursue your masters in Timbuktu. Men are not as patient as women. They have a clock too. Marry him first then go follow your dreams!' 5. Always smell good: No respectable woman walks around smelling on themselves. There are much better smells out there. However keep them subtle. A few more things I have learnt that I had refused to learn before: 1. Have a life outside your family. When things are thick, that other life will save them. 2. There's nothing wrong with being a wife and mother. 3. It helps to learn how to cook. Restaurant food will not be that great the 3rd time round. 4. Men are old fashioned. So pick up a few home- making skills. 5. Do not drink too much or wear skirts too short. You send the wrong message. 6. Be yourself. There's nothing to apologise for. 7. You are stronger, brighter and prettier than you think. 8. Live a healthy life. You never grow old if you live a healthy life. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYiE_iwthaU

Something to write about

2013-04-11T11:02:00.000+03:00

Someone once said "No one ever wrote a book on ordinary people." I think Dr. Suess added by writing "Why blend in when you were born to stand out." Two quotes, similar meaning. I haven't written in a long time. I haven't even thought of writing in a long time. Not because I have been stuck in a hole or I am going through some ridiculous experience that does not allow me time with this keyboard I so love. Quite the opposite actually. Life has become.....ordinary. It's become blegh!!! I am blending in. And with that, life has become normal, lost its inspiration, dried up juice and I am afraid that it is my fault. A song will never be written about the girl who wakes up, goes to work and comes back home. A book will not be published about curling on the couch, seeping tea and watching mindless TV on a Saturday afternoon. Of course, that is if you don't look beyond the content of modern day reality tv where anyone anywhere withe the excitement of a dead lizard can participate. But my point remains, ordinary does not inspire creativity. It does not stir any loins, it creates bland and unfortunate fodder for story telling. I do like my life now. I like my job. I like my flat. I even like my routine. But as I go through my daily routine of eating, sleeping and working, I wonder if I couldn't be letting myself down. I don't want to LIKE my life, I want to fall deeply and madly in LOVE with it. I can brush my teeth everyday but I can only get butterflies every so often. I can curl up on the couch seeping tea all day long but I can only fall in love once, maybe twice in my life, I can experience ironing clothes twice a day if I wanted but I can not experience an adrenaline rush every single day of my life. Those are the things worth writing about, they are the bits and pieces that turn boring existence into beautiful life that gets me up in the morning rearing to go. I miss the intensity. Learning something new and exciting, having intense emotions about someone, free falling through space and time. Sometimes I even miss the heart breaks (I was never as hard working or as inspired as when I was heart broken). Sedentary is great and content but it is not life. It is not euphoria. It is not the memory you want to tell the grand-kids about. Its not a story you want to hide from your children.It does not inspire oohs and aahhs around the fire. I think I shall actively chase after life for a while longer before I finally give up onto the couch of sedentary and normal living. Find a muse, become an expert in something awesome, fall in love with a new place, arouse my taste buds with new experiences. I'm chasing life. I'm chasing something worth writing about.

12 Songs of Christmas

2012-12-19T10:26:00.000+03:00

I have come a long way since last Christmas. All 365 and a 1/4 days. :-) My music has also evolved with me. I have to be given marks for moving from Nirvana and border line Black Sabbath to Evernescence and Linking Park (the rockers who stretched my vocal cords to unimaginable ends. I almost broke my vocal cords during that period). First, before all that, I would like to wish you a merry christmas and a lovely 2013. Thank you for being with me through the year. :D God has big things planned, hope you are prepared.

1.Diamond- Rihanna: I had stopped listening to Rihanna for a while there. She had flown off a tangent and I didn't want to follow her. Plus all those strange rumours....tsk!tsk! but now we be shining bright like diamonds. I know all the words to this song. So much so, that most of them are my very own. So if you ever hear me singing 'Burn bright like a beautiful sea...' I expect no judgement!! 2.Give me Love - Ed Sheeran: Doesn't this song make you want to just wave a lighter in the air and smoke weed. Or be in a high school sitcom. Not Tahidi High, the other ones. I stumbled onto this song by mistake. I was searching for a lift me up song and voila! there I was waving my phone in the air singing 'Give me love, ma, my, ma, my, my..' 3. The Thing- Atumpan: I kid you not, there are days I wake up with this song blaring in my brain. For reasons I cannot explain to myself, I just love this song. :D 4. Beneath your Beautiful- Labyrinth ft. Emali Sande: And here you thought, I would go a full count down without mentoning this song. This is my all time chart topper this year. 'I love you Emali Sandeeeee' said the straight girl at the corner. 5. Trouble - Leona Lewis: And when was the last time you heard of Leona. Last year, never, oh well!! She's back. Great vocals, lovely video and as I sang along, I almost felt like a musician for a bit. Which added her averages in my books. 6. No envy, no Fear - Joshua Radin: I like music that humbles you. Sort of quietens your soul. This song did that. 7. Levels - Avicii: :DDD That is all 8. Make me Fall- Nina Nesbit: Another surprising stumble. You know those suggested tracks on the right side of you tube, sometimes they can surprise you.Half those hits on her video are probably mine but I don't mind. 9. Breath of Life - Florence and the Machine: Disliked the movie, looooved the sound track. I love everything about Florence and the Machine. The voice, the instruments, the emotion. Awesomeness to the ears. So I could only choose one song. If you have not heard this woman sing, I suggest you you tube her right this instant. 10. A case of you- James Blake: This song is old but I only heard it a few months ago....the first time I listened to it, all I could think was 'I want someone to sing that song to me one day.' The emotions in it are so raw and real ....and troubled. A song free of pretenses and flowery imagery. It reminds me of 'Hate me Today- Blue October' which was my break up song a few eons back. Again, I expect no judgement. 11. Kirk Franklin - My life, my Love, my All: This song has carried me through some strange times, some great times and some troubled times. It's one of the songs that reminds me that God is with me no matter what I am, no matter who I am. Sometimes it's easy to forget. This song reminds me. 12. Mali Music- All I have to give: Just give it a listen. :)Tell me if you dont instantly fall in love with the message. Honourable mentions: 7. Just for Lovers - Just a band and Sara Mitaru's whole album. Yes, the whole thing.

Your Voice matters.

2012-11-28T11:15:00.000+03:00

I am a registered voter. :D In this climate, it's almost as exciting as saying, I just got nominated for some fancy prize. And as such, I am allowed to give my 2 cents on the politics of the day. Because my voice now matters. In my simple opinion, anyone who has has not officially registered, has not earned a right to voice their opinions, because their views are as distant as my views on the current revolution in Egypt.

I believe our country has faced 4 major political election mile stones: When we finally became an independent state in 1963, when we became a multi-party state in 1992, the people revolution of 2002, and now March 2013. Here is why I think 2013 is a mile stone for our nation. It is the first time, we are voting as a democratic state as opposed to the revolutionary state of 2002/7 or the oppressed state of 1992/7. The voters of this nation are going to have a choice to make based on whatever principles they value as true. Whether tribal or capitalist or communist or even fanatical. This time round, it will truly be every man for himself. One man, one vote.

When TNA launched its presidential bid earlier in the year, and later 'KNC-Tunawesmake', it marked a shift in the Kenyan political field. It was an announcement that it was time for parties to show not only the financial machinery and fanatical following behind them, but the policies that governed them. Even a lesser known Chris Matata Musyoka, launched his bid to an even lesser recognisable crowd. It is impossible to know whether the crowd was made up of idlers just enjoying the park, or of people who actually knew who he was and were there to listen to him, but at least it showed that the democratic space has surely opened up. Because if he could be allowed to hold a rally with no hoola baloo,it showed an environment of good will not only by the competition but also by the national press that covered him albeit in small quantities. Same goes for the likes of Kingwa Kamencu, who in spite of myself, has impressed me with her courage and sheer power to absorb insult upon injury. I can safely say at this point, my vote will neither go to Matata or Kamencu. It is not because I doubt their passion for the country, but after listening to them and reading abit about them, I believe my nation needs people with more political and socio-economic experience. A place neither of them has convinced me they have reached.

Voting for a president and his team is the same as choosing a board of directors to a company. They shall decide, not only the direction the country shall move, but how far and how fast we shall move and for how long. Some decisions, though well-intentioned, will kick this nation in the nuts and those are the decisions we will need to know before we hire. It is commendable how the appointment of public office representatives (Chief Justice, Inspector General etc) have been made for public viewing. We listen to their backgrounds, their strengths and their weaknesses, we listen as their careers and failures are scrutinized, as they defend their successes and their choices. We give our back seat opinions and hope our laymen choices will be short listed. This is the kind of zeal and vigour we should apply when choosing the highest posts in the land. Because unlike the interviews we watch from a distance, we are the ones at the forefront of this decision making. We are the interviewers. Granted that we are still a state in which tribe and fanatism rule the political scene, and we will probably always live in that country, but as tribal lines get blurred, we need to start listening to reason. Really listen to what each and every one of them has to say. We cannot continue voting the same way and keep wondering why things remain the same. It is madness. And that madness is what drove us to the brink of disaster in 2007.

Me, I, personally, have decided to listen to every leader and judge him not by his fanatical chants and tribal lines but to carefully listen for the contents of his words. His beliefs and his vision. I shall play interviewer and list down, calmly and carefully, if the requirements I need in a president are being met. I shall listen to their experiences, their challenges, their weaknesses and how they handled them, their confidence in the future of my land, their actions on my fragile economy, their thoughts on my security situation. I need to hear all these things mentioned. I need to hear where they not only see themselves in 5 years, but where they see me. And if, they have already been in power in one or more capacities in the past, what did they do and how did they handle the challenges of being in that position? How will they make it easier for the people coming to fill those same positions that they have left behind? It is very important for me to know, who it is I am giving the future of my country and my children's country.

On December 4th when battle lines are drawn in the sand and political parties are officially announced, I do hope the people running for different posts have created a strategy that goes over and beyond what we have seen and heard before. Politics is a dirty game all over the world, but how dirty it gets is our choice to make, not the candidates. They are just candidates in an interview room that we have created. We are a panel of what I am hoping will be 18 Million people and we all have a part to play in this process. You cannot refuse to vote just because you think the person you believe in, will not become president or governor or council rep. Your voice needs to be heard. Your opinion matters. However small you think it is. Because a vote not cast, is a vote the person you don't want to be in power. This is my plea to whoever will read this post, Please, get your voice heard. Register to vote.

A leader is not judged by his words but by the content of his character - Pst. Linda Adolwo

This post is dedicated to all who were affected either psychologically or physically by the post election violence of 2007. It is dedicated to my nation, Kenya.

My break-up with Love

2012-11-22T11:04:00.001+03:00

I read a story recently about a guy who went to the store to buy his wife flowers. On reaching the counter, he discovered he didn't have enough money. So he gave the cashier his credit card. After swiping it, the cashier said to him in her loudest,most patronizing voice "Sir, your card has no money in it." He was confused, tears were welling up. He was humiliated. The guy behind him, moved by the scene he was watching, told him to stay put, he thought he had $10 in the car. He ran back with the money in hand and paid for the flowers. The man with the flowers turned with a grateful smile. "I hope when your wife passes on, you may pass on with her. My wife died 15 years ago and today is meant to be our anniversary. I miss her dearly. These flowers are for her."

We hear these stories and our hearts go 'awww! That is so sweet' and it is but more than that, it is extremely sad. It is a story of a broken heart. A pain that will only be healed in death. And I think there can be nothing worse than knowing you may never heal. Never forget. Some guy once described heart break as a feeling as if someone is continuously stabbing you in the heart. I couldn't help but think, how inadequate that description was. Heartbreak was not like being stabbed in the heart. It was more like being buried alive in a coffin you could never get out off. You can't breath but you are still alive. You scream but no one can hear you. You are totally alone, in your pain, in your shame, in your tears. You can never share it with anyone. My biggest problem with it is, much as you want to hide under your bed and wait for the angel of death to take you away, you can't. It's not a disease, you don't get a doctor to write you a note, you continue going to work, you continue attending parties. Everyone expects you to move on. I'm sure if I go through some experiences, I might discover other experiences that could possibly be worse, than getting your heart torn out, but this in my opinion is the complete worst. On Sunday, there I am seated in church, quietly at my usual corner, when the pastor shouts "Its time to let go." and I thought, maybe it really is time for me to let go. It's time for me to let go of love. I have waited for this thing that is never coming. Generally in life, if you know your train has been cancelled, you don't sit around hoping the station got the details wrong, you don't board another train and hope it'll eventually start heading to your destination, you pick up your stuff and you go home and rethink your travel plans. But unfortunately in love, we keep boarding the wrong trains in the hope of eventually catching the right one. And for most of us, we do end up boarding the right train, most times by mistake. But for some, you just keep getting dropped off at the wrong destination, and sometimes, you get lost and you can't seem to find your way back home.

I have boarded the wrong train severally but I have boarded the love train exactly once in my life and I have gotten heart broken exactly once. I did test the waters before and after that but it wasn't the same. My mother, the true believer of love, keeps pushing for another try. Not all the time like when I was younger, but every so often, she will ask "I haven't seen anyone here in a while." or "what happened to so and so". I used to give long winded explanations before with illustrations of mangoes in a supermarket and coffee beans in a farm and such but now I just smile and walk away. But I can understand her concern. She was one of those women who found love early in life. Almost like a silly sitcom. She wouldn't understand this disillusion I have. She would push for one more try. She has a man who loves her and I will always be glad for that. She was made for it, she thrives at it. Her man pursued her through thieves, robbers and insane relatives and that's what love should be. Insane and funny and forever. If I am ever to get back together with love, that is what I need it to be. Insane and funny and forever. Otherwise, I am walking away from the mediocrity that has been my love life so far.

I do believe, love is useless if you can't truly become those women we, single women, love to hate, if you don't turn a bit psycho and annoying and irrational. I was once. He wasn't. So we amicably went our separate ways. Him, to look for someone who would turn him into a psycho and me, to lick the wounds of my broken heart and quietly piece together my life. But that was years ago. I have wanted to feel like that again with someone who felt the same way about me but there has been no real prospect of that happening. Not even when he came back and left again. It just isn't the same. So, now I'm letting go. I'm tucking in my heart in the closet and moving on. There have been one or two declarations of the lust nature, but I don't want those ones. Those ones just leave you bitter and cold on the inside. I needed true declarations. A truly motivated kind of love. A love that I have since given up on.

This wasn't as rush a decision as I'm putting it. I have thought about it for years. Yes, years. I have even patiently waited and 'put myself out there' and there's been no real bite. No real attempt by this love thing to show that it was still interested. So I am starting to think that maybe God has a different plan for me. Maybe this love thing isn't for me. Maybe I was just meant to follow a different path. Do other things and be great at that but my desire to find 'the one' is just delaying that. Maybe what's delaying this thing called love is not my lack of mid-calf decent skirts and my love for heavy metal and tattoos. Maybe, just maybe, all me and love were meant to be was friends. Old friends who tell wild and inappropriate stories about each other to strangers.

Now I am putting it on the shelf. I am breaking up with it for breaking my hopeful heart. For making me feel intense pain after feeling intense joy. I am breaking up with it because it has adamantly refused to fight for me, the way I thought I had fought for it. It has refused to sit by me when I was sick and celebrate with me when life started falling into place. It is not painful or even sad. It is more like a quiet sigh in the wind. I may never get to sit on that balcony giggling at the stupidity of another human being, I may have to be content with buying my own birthday cake and plan my own surprise parties....but its ok. I get to celebrate with the others whom it may touch. I get to sing their songs and dance in their glow. I get to experience albeit from a far, what it would have been like had my life turned out differently. I will occasionally blame love when my life becomes hard but it will never hold any truth because we now know, me and love, though we had some terrific moments in the past, that is what it will always be. A terrific moment, in the past.

Trypophobia....and other unusual fears.

2012-11-20T13:15:00.002+03:00

So if you have not already run to google to find out what trypophobia is, let me the shining light that helps you along. Trypophobia is fear of clustered holes. It is usually small holes in organic objects, such as lotus seed heads or bubbles in batter, that give trypophobics the extreme willies, triggering reactions like itchy skin, nausea and a general feeling of discomfort. Well, you must be wondering what this has to do with anything whatsoever.

"My name is Murasta, and I am trypophobic." I dont know exactly when I discovered that I had this ridiculous fear but I cannot look directly at clustered circular holes or honeycombs. Especially if they are of varying sizes. It makes my skin crawl, sometimes nauseous and in rare occasions, I feel faint. Such fears are not one of those things you share because its cool. You consult Google....widely and when you discover a doctor will do nothing for your dilemma. Except one vicious article that explained phobias can be cured by over exposure. Does he want to kill us all. So now, I have learnt to go around avoiding bee farms and architecture that involves unnecessary holes in the walls.

It is actually quite a common occurrence despite the fact that 1 out of every 1000 shrinks have heard of it (self statistics). I went to google, typed in my problem and bam! second link and I have a problem solved. There's even a Facebook page dedicated to trypophobics and has....wait for it....over 4000 fans. However, as I read further, phobias are supposed to affect your everyday activities, and most psychologists don't think a general fear of bubbles in my butter is a big discomfort to my day to day activity. Hence the reason, they do not consider it a real phobia. Considering I love my buttered toast, I think, it is causing considerable discomfort to my life. I may never own an ant farm or harvest my own honey, so we really shouldn't trivialize this particular fear. But also according to psychologists (another different set I presume), human beings can be afraid of absolutely anything. Here's a short list of some unusual, sometimes funny phobias.

Allodoxaphobia - Fear of opinions. (Now imagine how few friends this guy has!) Apeirophobia - Fear of infinity. (Such limited expectations) Anatidaephobia- Fear of being watched by a duck (it's always watching you....always!) Arachibutyrophobia- This is the fear of eating peanut butter and having it stick to the roof of your mouth. (yes, it could happen to anyone.) Cardiophobia - Fear of the heart. (This one needs abit more research because I think it is ridiculous...hahaha!) Cyprianophobia/ Cypridophobia/Cyprinophobia/Cypriphobia - Fear of prostitutes or venereal disease.(you should be afraid! You should be!!!) Counterphobia: It is a psychological condition or phobia in which the affected person deliberately seeks out the object or situation that he or she fears the most, rather than avoiding it.(You could really drive yourself crazy with this one.) Euphobia: This is the fear of hearing good news. (How can you afraid to be happy!) Geliophobia: Fear of laughter (not to be confused with euphobia. One can hear good news but not laugh at it!) Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia/ Sesquipedalophobia- Fear of long words (Oh, the irony). Hypegiaphobia/Hypengyophobia - Fear of responsibility.(I'm sure I'm speaking to some people today) Koinoniphobia - Fear of rooms. (This explains hippies!) Levophobia - Fear of things to the left side of the body. (This girl will never sing 'to the left to the left'. Never) Mythophobia - Fear of myths or stories or false statements. (And that is how trust issues are developed) Novercaphobia: Also known as the fear of stepmother(Occurs more often than we think!) Optophobia - Fear of opening one's eyes. (now this is just sad) Panophobia/Pantophobia - Fear of everything.(Like really, everything?!!!! A moment of silence is needed for this lot!) Phobophobia: Morbid fear of developing a phobia.(I don't even know what to say to that.) Scriptophobia- It's a fear of writing in public, wherein the person is over-conscious and nervous whenever he writes. Teleophobia - Fear of difinite plans. (What? huh!well, maybe...I'll call you!)

I have no idea what some of the images are. Hopefully they are relevant to the cause. I could have edited spelling mistakes and such but I'm finding it hard to re-read....you know...trypophobia and all. :-)

Where I'm from....where I'm going.

2012-11-07T16:03:00.000+03:00

She rode in on a black sports bike. We all agreed she looked cooler than anything we had seen that day. She had black leather boots. Kitten heel not the hooker keel kind. They were over black pants, with a heavy leather jacket. Not pleather. We could tell because it didn't reflect light back into our eyes with the vengeance of fake fabric. Although in retrospect, pleather would have done her well if she was trying to avoid those silly reflective jackets. The bike wasn't large. Not the obscene types you see at mall entrances that take up full parking spaces without the decency of paying the parking fee. It matched her small frame. My guess would be no larger than a 250cc engine Suzuki sports bike. Small enough for her to handle, but not too small to be mistaken for a delivery guy. We hated those delivery guy. We loved this woman. She was everything we wanted to be but couldn't. At that moment, she was 'femme fatale'.

When she finally disappeared from view, I couldn't stop thinking about the bike. The bike I wanted to buy but never could. I wanted to be the girl on the bike. Not the girl staring at her from the inside of her very safe car. Now that a new year is dawning on me glaringly, I have to sit down and make a few resolutions. Least of which may or may not include a bike with a matching helmet and jacket. :-) Resolutions that are made on my birthday or on the days leading to the day are usually much more meaningful, more substantial than the usual new year's euphoric declarations. Its who I am. Alone, in the silence of this one day that God decided to bring me into this world. It's a moment to look back, to stand still, to look forward,to remember and plan. Am I going to be the girl on the bike this year or am I going to be the girl admiring and wishing forever to be her. Now that I've given up my dream of being a rocker chic, (My fingers bled when I tried to learn the guitar. I love my fingers!!)it's time to plan on who I want to be. It may not be biker chic, it may never be rocker chic but I need to define a clearer path that what I wish or wish not to be.

I've stopped seeing life as a day at a time. One moment after another. It has come a time to put behind the YOLO's and Carpe diem's and actually chart a way forward for myself. As the good book says, "it is time to put behind my childish ways." and put behind I shall. So since my revelation almost 12 hours ago (how very grown up of me!) I have decided to lay out a 10 year plan. Yes, all 10 years into my future. I plan to commit. Because that's what grown ups do. They plan ahead, they save, they invest, they don't party every day, yes, I shall be an adult and I shall commit and by Jove, I intend to be good at it.

For almost 3 decades, I have had life planned for me. You go to school, you go on break, you go back to school,you take another break and so on and so forth.In between there, you rebel, you get back your bearing and tearfully confess, you fall in and out of love with abandon, you learn a few new things, you intentionally remember and forget others, you basically just live life because you can. You are infallible, indestructible, forever. But those days are quickly waning. My heart is quite averse to heart break now, my money is finding new ways to insult me and my body doesn't bounce back from punishing fun and excitement as quickly as it used to. I won't kid myself and say that this is short term. This is how it shall be. Forever. That is why I intend to plan. Because my spirit, and bits of my body that have survived this far, demand that I grow up.

So what are my plans for the next decade? First I think I have to say how super excited I am about the year ahead. Such possibilities. It feels like the beginning of a great era, like the explosion of the 60's free loving or Y2K when we all thought we were going to die and be reincarnated into unicorns and angels. It's a rebirth and I plan to start it with the excitement it deserves. So at least for this first year, I think I'll try and lay down some roots. Some viable ground rules. Make a real investment into my future. Something I can look back on and say 'I did good.' Since I come from a proud lineage of owners of 'kale kaplot kangu', that is where I shall begin. From a point I can proudly say 'kale kaplot kangu kako ruiru, tunafaa tukauze'!! That is my big plan. I haven't bought the land yet so that I can sell it, but I shall buy a piece of land which shall have my legal name on my legal documents. Which I shall put in a safety deposit box in a bank. Yeah, I'm going all fancy with it. I shall even wear fancy Victorian gloves and a hat when I'm going to drop it off. Just like in the movies. That shall be my main focus this year (the land not the gloves). Because everything after that shall be funded from that kaplot.

I also need to start setting my academic ground work. There's a masters program to start preparing for. Big goals to achieve. Maybe even much, much, muuuuch later, think of a Doctorate. I'll be Dr. fancy gloves. I've always wanted to live abroad for a year. Just one year. No more. Preferably Milan. Hopefully, I can make my year abroad and my higher education ambitions coincide. Enjoy some culture while I better myself. Kill two birds with one stone. In fact I can kill another bird I've wanted to bring down for a while. Learning a new language. French. Maybe Italian. If I'm lucky, both. People in this office are always buzzing off in French and I'm left wondering what kind of education I received. Maybe my new education shall be funded by my piece of land in Ruiru or Syokimau or Isiolo. Maybe the Lord shall be good to me and get me a benefactor who shall think educating me is the best thing that happened since the discovery of penicillin. Whichever the case, Milano, here I come.

Now that I'm all grown, I think I've decided I should be a big part of making someone I believe in get into a position of power. Great power. Not like vote for a politician who I believe in, although voting is extremely important to me. (As soon as IEBC starts registration, go get yourself registered. It is absolutely important.) I mean like someone I know, someone who's passion I understand, someone who has explained to me in painstaking detail over many years how they are the change I and everyone I know and do not know, should invest in. Alot of ground work has to be done on my part. Getting to meet and know the right people. Knowing the right offices to go to. If I can have my voice heard by someone who can make a difference then I believe I can make be the change I need to see in my community and beyond. I'll be much more focused then, so even my ideals will be much more focused. This is definitely a 'so help me God' venture because for sure, for sure, I have no idea how I'm going to get it done. With great power comes great responsibility, I hate seeing power or responsibility squandered. I believe I'm old enough to influence at least one person into power. That should be my responsibility.

Like I said last year, this will be a great year ahead....(and I wasn't that wrong) but this time I am thinking, this is going to be a great decade. A glorious era. Whatever happens, whoever happens to stumble upon it and however they intend to do it. God has big plans for me. Watch this space and maybe next time when you see me I'll be in my fancy jacket and matching helmet, but probably on a scooter.

Why I waited..

2012-10-31T12:58:00.000+03:00

I just read this and I thought I should share it. Sometimes you just don't know how to put something in words until someone else does:

EBONY: Tamera you mentioned in an interview that you and [your husband, Fox News Correspondent] Adam [Housley] not only didn’t live together, you also remained celibate until you married last year. Why did you choose that route and do you have any advice for your fans who are trying to follow in your footsteps in that regard? TAMERA: Adam and I took a break from dating for about a year. We missed each other and something was drawing us together, but more than that, we wanted to make sure that this relationship was what God wanted for our lives. [In order to know] if we are meant to be together, we said, ‘it’s got to be God’s way and not our way.’ We didn’t want to half-step anything [or have clouded judgment]. So our right way was the way we felt God wanted us to do it which was being celibate. We said to God, ‘This is who we are, I know you take us as we are, our faults, our fears, our joys, our hope as a couple and have your way.’ I tried the ‘missionary dating’ [in the past] where you have a person with a great heart who you think is perfect and wonderful except for this one important area that you try to change. That’s unfair to that person. That person needs to be who they are 100%. And it’s unfair to you. You don’t want to drag somebody to church with you. My husband wakes up on Sundays and says ‘Hey, are we going to church today?’ It just makes [waiting] all worthwhile. I dated guys who did not share those same beliefs and it was hard. There were many nights of heartbreak and crying, and that’s not what God wants for us. But if you want to be celibate, definitely don’t live together [laughs] because that makes it harder for you. Have people around you to keep you accountable! Surround yourself with people who support your decision, because they’re only going to root you on. Make that covenant with God and with each other and just let go. God is going to see you through the difficult times. Whenever you’re feeling discouraged just pray together. Like I said it’s not going to be a perfect journey, but you just have to keep God the center of your relationship.

You should get your teeth cleaned.

2012-10-29T10:03:00.002+03:00

There are things I can never have the heart to talk about. I see it, I get boggled by what I'm seeing, my mind keeps screaming that I should at least mention towards the area of discomfort and before I know it, "moment over, person left, highly disturbed picture in my mind." Then I keep thinking, I wish I was one of those people who are proudly diseased with foot in mouth. That way, I can include others in my discomfort and life would be grand and beautiful.

Have you had your teeth checked: Yesterday I was in one of those situations where i thought I should say something. I didn't of course. I meet this chap I haven't seen in probably a century or so, ok! maybe a few years. I always knew he was a smoker and by his apparent skinny body, he probably still was. His teeth are the ones that finally told me, his smoking may have increased a hundred fold. There we are, talking about good old days, what have you been up to since the fall of the regime, how are you handling the rising inflation among other important matters and all I could look at were his teeth. Now, teeth have been a very sensitive topic to me in recent times. Seeing, as due to no fault of mine, I am getting 4 teeth plucked *my jaw set funnily when I was growing up. Great for a petite jaw line, bad for wisdom teeth growth.* Anyway I digress. So there I am, staring at the largest amount of white stuff I've seen on any teeth. I assumed it was from all the smoking because I prayed to God on this Sunday afternoon, that it wasn't from lack of hygiene. That would have made my taste in former friends quite questionable. Through the whole conversation, all I could think was, "you really should go see a dentist and get that checked or else next time I see you, you may have no teeth at all." and just as quickly it hit me, that might be a tad insensitive. I mean, we already have mothers and siblings to dish out insensitive comments, no need to add acquaintances from eras past to that equation.

Is there something in your pockets or are you just happy to see me: I may have bumped into a boyfriend of a friend just after he had been with her. Well, as far as awkward moments go, this one is definitely one for the books. I tend to look at men head to toe as they approach me or at least I used to. Just a quirky habit. I look at shoes "very nice." , fit of pants, "could do better." and then, "oh darn. wow!Lawd have mercy!!," I lift my eyes to heavens above and hope he didn't see my quick shift of focus to right above his eyebrow. It takes a lot of effort not to look back down just to confirm that you really did see what you saw. Lesson no. 1 I learnt that day was, look at people directly in the face when they approach you. There's a reason some things are below the belt. Lesson no 2, check your man before he walks out the door. You don't want people thinking, he's just sooo pleased to meet everyone.

The good Lord bless your gorgeous eyebrows: Every person, I would like to believe, has that one thing they notice first in the opposite sex. Hands, legs, butt, abs, hair.....well,*deep breath of intense confession* I notice eye brows. It is strange but true. Of course there are other more normal attributes I notice but I cannot look directly at a man with thick, well balanced and blessed brows. So every time, I bump into a dude with lovely hair definition above the eyes, I sort of stare at the trees beyond him or more hopeless still, I totally ignore him and as such ignore the problem. It is one thing to tell someone they have lovely eyes but quite another to comment on their eye brows. It would make me sound a tad weirder than I already am and then I'd have no friends and my family would have to move to protect their image.

See what I mean.....tihihihi *futile giggles* On the playlist... Fourplay - Espirit de Four....Esperanza Spalding - Black Gold

I forget

2012-10-15T10:46:00.001+03:00

I had forgotten his voice. His face. I had forgotten his memories. The memories he gave me. The memories we made together. When I was told he said 'hi', I had a hard time remembering who this person was. This stranger who was sending greetings. It was a strange sensation. That feeling that I could forget someone so completely. Someone who was such a big part of my life. For a moment, in the past, he had been my person. He had been THE person.

I felt ashamed. I nodded and smiled. "Tell him hi when you see him." is all I could reply. It scared me. In fact it terrified me. Even as the conversation continued and eventually went off in a different direction. So much so, that I forced myself to imagine him. Imagine his voice, why couldn't I place his laugh? The laugh of a man I had laughed with for so long? Or was he a boy? I couldn't remember. I feared I might not recognise him if he passed me on the street. That I might have a hard time knowing what to say to this man who was supposed to have been so much. Of a man we were supposed to have had so much in common.

I had forgotten him. My mind had erased him so completely and so un-apologetically. The man who gave me 'boyfriend Sunday' and made rock night memorable. A man who made me understand what it meant to love, though I may not have loved like I should. A man who with whom I had eaten pancakes and drank ridiculous amounts of alcohol with. Maybe the alcohol had made me forget or the cholesterol I had picked up from the pancakes. I tried to remember if he walked with a bounce, or whether his head bobbed when he talked. I tried to remember his smile. Did he have his teeth close together or wide apart? I know I had once kissed that mouth but for all the strength in me, I could not remember what his mouth looked like. His hands...i think I liked his hands. I think I thought they were his best feature. Were his fingers long? Was his hand shake firm? Why couldn't I pick up those details in my mind? Weren't these the kind of things I was supposed to hold onto forever?

As I tried to place his face and remember his voice, I was drawn to so many others. People who were meant to be forever. People I had shared my life with, my time, my heart. People I thought were the cradle of my soul. I wondered what they were doing. I wondered if they remembered me. If I was more than a passing ship in their sea of life. If they still saw things that reminded them of me. It was as awkward a thought as it was sad. That we could give so much of each other just so as to move on quickly. Without a second look back. Leaving behind life, love, lessons and all. Sometimes even leaving behind our hearts.

I wish I could hold on to every memory, every moment that made me smile, made me laugh, made me think. Of every person that my heart once knew. But I forget. No matter how hard I try, I just can't seem to hold on to everything. Sometimes, I hold on to nothing at all. It scares me and somehow strangely comforts me how much I try but also how much I forget.

Some days....

2012-10-08T11:31:00.002+03:00

There are certain perks about being single. Like the fact that I can give a side eye stare to the hot guy who sits across the hall from me without feeling guilty. Or that I can pick on my super oily, fried chicken for hours while I watch hours of mindless TV or the fact that some of the clothes I love wearing to bed are not fit for human viewing. Even my inability to say where I am going or to inform the general public about my comings and goings thrives in my single hood. Even the places I hang out and the people I hang out with, they seem to be much more fun and much cooler when I fly solo. I am like batman before robin. Cool, mysterious and interesting. So interesting in fact that I delude myself of my extremely high market value. Like right now, it should be through the roof. In fact it should be sky high. So most days I usually thrive on my own ego and misperception. Most days.

But some days, all I want is to go home and sit silently next to someone who'll make me a cup of coffee after a long day. I want someone to fill the other side of a bed that is too large for my 5 ft 4" frame. I need someone who lives some place half way from my place of work so that I can sometimes have a stop over when traffic is overwhelming. Some days it would be nice to have someone who will pick me up because I am too tired to drive, who will tell me about his day so that I can quietly forget about mine. Someone who will call me on a long distance trip just to make sure I'm ok. It would be nice to know that someone special has my back. On both the days I get rained on and the days I land a big project. Some days, that would be nice, because some days, but just some days, being alone sucks.

Shamefully Knowing

2012-09-28T14:27:00.001+03:00

Sometimes I am ashamed of myself. Or more correctly ashamed by myself. Ashamed of things I have let be done to me by others. Of the things I have let myself do to me. I am ashamed by the thoughts that I have had of others and especially of myself. I am terribly ashamed of the person I let myself become. Knowingly and unknowingly. I am ashamed that I let myself down. It's very easy to blame other people for your misfortunes, for your character and your warped personality, blame others for the person you have become. But it takes a changed kind of mind to examine the wrong you have done to yourself. The things you could have done to stop life from getting out of control. Times you should have said NO to yourself. But more importantly, times you should have said YES!!It's a painful change, a shameful change but sometimes its an important change.

As I finally stood still in the silence of my mind, stood quietly listening to my body, listening to my soul, I realized that in my quest to forgive the world around me, I neglected to forgive the world within me. I forgot to forgive, the times I broke my heart, I turned away from the times I talked badly about my abilities, I ignored the times I told myself I wasn't good enough, or strong enough, or just not enough. I reflected on the fear that I have haboured. Fear of the truth, of knowing who I truly could become, if I only let the noises in my head be silent. I blew the dust of the books of my dreams. I wiped down the desk on which I wrote down my thoughts and filtered my words. I quietly straightened out the ideas I had had over the years and declared incompetent and thrown in the bin.

I write because I cannot speak. I speak because I cannot feel. The fear to feel for the unknown, listen for the unheard of, reach for the unreachable. I am ashamed because who I truly am, I have suppressed. Suppressed behind closed mind and a faked smile. Locked inside myself is an ashamed woman. A woman I had never allowed myself to see. A woman who would have died in my mind, uncared for, unminded, unattended. Neglected by me. So I finally let the windows open and allowed my shame to be blown over by new life. I let the light into my darkness. No longer afraid to let myself finally see who I really am. Finally see who I truly need to be.

They say "God does not look at the outward appearance." but I am ashamed at what he will see. The parts of me that I leave in tattered clothes while the rest of me thrives in designer chic. The parts of me that live in shades of gray, Maybe 50, maybe more, while I live in a life of colour. I am saddened by the fact that this silence in my mind. The one that knows my inner most secrets cannot be shared with God. Let alone the world. As I look at the mantras I have written on the walls of my mind-Maybe to make me feel better about myself- I worry about what would happen if I let myself heal. If I will survive without the "stronger than you think" words that I hear from other people who may be too broken to say otherwise. But here in my shame. In the depth of my mind, I have come to a point where I can say, "I have wronged myself. I have hurt myself. However, I am tired of me. I need to heal." As I open the windows and let the world in. As I let even God see my shame filled soul. I know I will be fine. Cleaning years of self malice, self destruction and self sabotage will not be easy. But even if I straighten out only one idea, I clean only one dusty thought that needed to be mentioned or leave behind just one cracked window for light to finally sip in, I know I will be that much closer to living without shame.

Sticks and stones...

2012-09-27T15:54:00.001+03:00

I love words. I love reading them and listening to them and singing them in a song (usually in the bathroom). Words dig deep. They make me cry and laugh with the same intensity. They keep me company in the dead of night while I suffer insomnia and they take me to sleep on a long, tired day. Words are to my soul what air is to my lungs. I generally don't talk much, or at least I hope I don't. But I honestly believe I would die in a silent world. In a world with no words. To me that's a world without emotion. So one long tired day last week, this song woke me up. A million songs had played but this song, brought something to life in me. It was my kindred spirit. I have listened to many, many strange songs in my past but this was the one that has made me happiest. (Well, this and home town glory- Adele, Jars of Hearts- Christina Perri and Gravity- John Mayer.)I may the only one who loves this song so much that I spent minutes of my hard earned time googling it. But, like the saying goes, "It's all sticks and stones baby, just sticks and stones." :-)

Indeed, I shall stand.

2012-08-27T16:46:00.000+03:00

At the beginning of this year, I wrote a post about how great this year was going to be such a great year and how it was going to my year and blah blah blah... But the running joke continues, "If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans." And laugh He did. Like a best friend who knew only too well, how ridiculous I sounded. I made a list, at the back of a book I have since misplaced. A list about where I should be, what I should earn, how happy and successful I should always sound. It was a great and wishful list, it was a hopeful list, it was a list full of promises. I have nothing against lists and this was my very first one. It kept my mind focused. On the things I should work for, the goals I should pray for and the faith I should grow.

Now to say that this year turned a little off centre from the list would be to understate the last 8 months. In February, I finally thought it was time to move on up in the world. Key word here being thought. Well after a back and forth interaction with what I thought was going to be the biggest move yet, I lost a job I had not even began working in. It was heart wrenching to say the least. But I breathed in and out, after a while I let it go. Or so again I thought. The year had just began so there could be better times ahead. In May, just as I started settling back into life, I got deferred for an exam I was supposed to sit for later in the year....well, I told myself there must be a reason, if only grudgingly. June came along with more joyous moments, a dude I thought at the time was the best thing since cubed sugar and sliced bread left me in a puff of smoke....poof! I should have known my brain was thinking of cubed bread or sliced sugar!

Anyway, we are now entering month 9 in this here year of our Lord and slowly things are starting to make sense. With the job and the exam and the cubed bread. Finally after a few stumbles, I have started to see why God was giggling at me...and not with me...at the beginning of all this. Life was never going to be anything I expected. God kept telling me to be still. To stand. To hold onto the faith. Just stand, I know what I'm doing. So I stood

Last month, I got a call for a job interview. I had always wanted a job like this and it was shocking that I was called when I had neither applied for or knew of its general existence. I had applied for a different job with a whole set of different requirements. It was my modern day miracle. Can I get a hallelujah. I used to hear of these stories where people talk about how God came through for them and life was all flowers and rainbows and sunshine and I used to think that maybe it was all made up and they were just out there bragging. It is still up until now, bit surreal and occasionally I think I might wake up and it will all be a dream. The job essentially begins when I was meant to be sitting for my exam. Now that forced deferral seems to make much more sense. I still might not have sat for the exam either way. But now I am saved the distress of having to explain to the board why I cant make it for my exam and I hear such things do not rub the board members well. So that solved my issue number 2. The Lord provided and mitigated all in one go. yay me!

As for issue number 3, well, he was definitely better than sliced sugar but the longer I sit and think back on everything that we went through, the more I think that walking away was the right way to go. It may not have felt like it at the time but I am happier now and calmer. Lessons were learnt, both good and bad and nothing is more refreshing than knowing that there was a reason for why it happened when it did. Regardless of whether or not I can see what that reason is. I have stopped obsessing and it has opened my mind to a whole lot of new things and experiences (nothing bad, promise! :-) Plus if there is one good that came from that period, my hair really grew. Like a weed. This length under normal circumstances would have taken at the very least, twice the time. Life is not all thorns and weeds. Sometimes there are roses.

So now, as I sit preparing myself for the next phase of my life, I have taken a back sit on planning and obsessing and worrying about myself. I have embraced the contentment of knowing someone else is sorting out my future for me. And that whether good or bad, happy or painful, it is all leading to something that I need. If all that I have left is the air that I breath, still I shall stand. Because, my God, He stands with me.

Picture music

2012-08-24T10:42:00.002+03:00

I am a hopeless lover of intros in songs. If the Intro doesn't catch me, I'm not listening. Now I shall entertain you today with lyrics to my very favourite "We are Young" (Enjoy! Happy Friday!!!)

Give me a second I, I need to get my story straight

My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State

My lover she’s waiting for me just across the bar My seat’s been taken by some sunglasses asking 'bout a scar,

and I know I gave it to you months ago I know you’re trying to forget

But between the drinks and subtle things The holes in my apologies,

you know I’m trying hard to take it back

So if by the time the bar closes And you feel like falling down

I’ll carry you home.......

Bosnia

2012-08-06T14:44:00.001+03:00

He keeps shouting Bosnia... and every time he does, I get even more confused and lost.

Let me start from the beginning. I think I might be confusing you. A couple of months ago, one of my seniors in the office told me how Wednesday is just the best day to hit aerobics. It is a great experience, the class is always full etc,etc blah blah blah. I was sufficiently impressed. Of course the thought was somehow forgotten for a few weeks until one fine Wednesday my pap's comes trotting down with his gym bag. A really pretty gym bag and I am not one to look pretty things in the face without feeling the need to connect with it. I am easily swayed by colourful advertising.

"Are you hitting the gym today?" That was my ignorance at play there. "You want to join me?" That was his ignorance at play. That is how I ended up in what I believe was the hardest endeavour of my life. You see, I have done many hard things in my life. I have peaked Kilimanjaro, I have slept in the cold , I have even had my eyebrows tweezed many times. But never in a million years did I experience the shame and pain that comes with taking an advanced aerobics class ..... as a beginner. I t was like a kindergarten child doing a college C.A.T!

So there I am. Quite late for my first class. So late infact that the veterans upfront were already sweating by the buckets. The instructor kept screaming in a foreign language from another universe. It was not English, and it was definitely not any dialect I had ever heard before. The veterans changed direction with every scream. That is when I opted to run left and right at intervals and occasionally turn in a circle until that part of the class ended. In my uncoordinated jumps, I found a kindred spirit at the back. She was my fortress. Every time, we found ourselves being faced by the class (literally, because he had barked in Kripton language for them to turn), we would look at each other knowingly and sadly. And we would know that all this would not be in vain. We shall conquer!!!! So after a couple of hours jumping up and down and turning in circles, he instructed us to take the steps thingies. Or rather, he instructed the others to take their step thingies. I just followed them. They could have been going to hell, and I'd have just followed them there. Now here is where it got interesting.... The language changed, the veterans jumped higher. However, to me, it was like turning on the turbo on a jalopy that has had too, too many years on it. It was brutal. This was when the instructor started screaming "BOSNIA!!" Now after the first few times, I came to understand, Bosnia is a barren land where only the fittest survive. Only those with the most gas in their tanks and food in their vaults lived to tell the tale. It was where brutality was born. And where the leader fed off the sweat off the weak. I started wondering if this was how I would die. Had I brought myself to slaughter. Why had no one warned me about my fate. It was BOSNIA!!

By the time I was done in Bosnia, all I wanted was for my gentle Saviour to carry me home. But the was not to be. I was to take myself home. And all this was after a warm down that included strange looking crunches that the instructor mus have invented to torture us, things that looked like we were riding bicycles upside down and little scissor like leg things that he counted into the hundreds. After something that felt like 12 hours of exercise, we did finally get to breathing exercises. It felt like we had reached the promised land. I was no longer in Bosnia. This was Canaan. The land of deep breaths and honey. It was where men did not sweat for their food. This was what freedom must feel like. As you may have noted, the breathing had 2 effects which I think this instructor deviously knew. 1. It made you believe that Bosnia was just a myth created by your own self-defeating mind 2. It made you believe that if he would start all over again, you might actually make it. That your mind was at peace with the body (all lies I tell you. All lies!!)

That is how I ended up going again after that. For a full month infact. I almost believe that I could conquer this class. That Bosnia had nothing on my resilient a*se. I have since moved to the center of the class and I almost understand what the instructor is screaming half the time. I have stopped moving side to side and now occasionally lift my knee and twirl graciously with everyone else. And I have since felt like I know what might come next. I am armed and ready for war. This will define me. Hopefully soon I shall come again and say "I HAVE CONQUERED BOSNIA!"

Don't touch me, I'll be just fine

2012-07-13T12:02:00.002+03:00

I hate being touched. I don't go around touching people's cheeks and patting their shoulders and pecking them every time I stand up to go to the loo. That's how I know my friends .... I touch them and I let them touch me. (In a platonic way!) I allow them into my space and I accept to enter theirs. Its my ultimate level of trust. It's how I show I care. Touch is my distinguishing feature. A trust that I do not wield about lightly. If I let you hand linger in a handshake for longer than a second, I either have profound respect or fear for you....or you are my friend. Either way, it is not a privilege easily given. It is the Midas touch.

Unfortunately, that is also how I know I've lost a friend. When the power of touch leaves our relationship. Then it means that life as I knew it has ended and I have to start again. That is how important touch is to me. It's my physical manifestation of my love. And since I let so few in, it is quite a big blow. It takes me a long time to recover. I wonder if the next one will matter. If I'm going to be giving out my touch just to watch myself fail. And yes, when I lose a friend it makes me feel like a failure.

I have lost 2 close friends in the past year. They sort of faded away from my radar. So much so that it felt like they had died. and taken half of me with them. For one, I didn't see it coming. He just walked away, and never looked back. There was no note with an explanation, no lingering email to say when he'd be back. He didn't even leave pieces of me behind to remember him by. It was like the end of a great movie. The credits were rolling and there was no rewind button. The second one.... it just feels like the friendship is slipping through my fingers and I can't stop the course its taking. Like water or sand through my hands. Actually its like trying to catch a river with my teenie tiny hands. My touch is not enough. Like my green lush garden just got annihilated by aliens. I know I can do nothing about it but still I try and it hurts like hell. Because those memories we have, they never go away. Memories I cannot pass on to a new friendship. That I cannot sell. They have no transferable value. Occasionally I'll see something that reminds me of them and I won't be able to call or text. I will want to send an email but I'll be afraid. And the hardest part is that, I still won't be able to tell anyone else. Because those were relationships worth their salt. They left behind scar tissue that I sometimes wear with pride but mostly with shame. I now have to hide ever knowing them or them ever touching me. They taught me lessons and those lessons were real.

I miss the touch of those friendships. The warmth and closeness that they brought me. The circumstances that built us and maybe eventually crushed us. Even that one that has not completely faded, the one I am so desperately trying to save, I miss it everyday. The touch is gone. The warmth is fading. The trust completely forgotten. And every time I see them , every time we pass each other in the street, every time I hear their names in conversation or smell their scent in the wind, I will have to pretend that their touch meant nothing. I will have to say it, every time I will have to pretend to believe it, "Don't touch me today, I'm doing just fine." On my playlist:

Value Added Life

2012-07-10T11:13:00.001+03:00

There's a story I heard a few months back about this powerful chap who was chasing (or pursuing... chasing sounds just dirty.) down this equally powerful woman for marriage. Years came and went and she declined him again and again. Then one day, seemingly out of the blue, she accepted his proposal. This gesture baffled this powerful man. A man not easily puzzled. After the flamboyant wedding, he asked her why she finally agreed to his advances. She gave a simple answer that seemed to impress this man not easily impressed. "I finally found what my purpose in your life was to be."

That got me thinking. Many of us have read books on purpose and value addition, attended conferences, listened to inspirational speakers and even done some yoga moves just to try and reach our inner purpose. But rarely do we seem to understand the full extent of purpose. I have been going through a soul searching, mind searching exercise about what purpose is and how my life should move from here on ... with purpose. No one leaves a true legacy in life, or even in another individual without a basic sense of purpose.

I have learnt that purpose has almost nothing to do with me as an individual, but it has alot more to do, with what I do as far as everyone else is concerned. What value am I adding in the world as I live in it. What will I leave behind when I go? Who will be affected (or infected...hehehe!) by my existence. Your purpose not only defines who you are as a person, it defines who other people perceive you to be. It defines what you do, how you do it and when you do it. It dictates what you say and how you say it. It decides what to look for and what to do when you find it. Even when the road to it is fraught with pain and damage and confusion. It keeps you on track and on goal. It directs you to the road you should take.

That's why finding your purpose is hard. Because it defines not only your existence but affects the existence of all those around you. It defines your whole life. So as I was writing down what I want to look back and see when I reach my twilight years, I started defining what my importance would be to the people around me. Would I be a confidant, a mediator, a shoulder to lean on, an inspiration, a friend, a mentor, a business partner etc. What value am I adding in their lives by being there? I quietly started noticing little negative trends that I had grown into. Habits that had become part of who I was. The complaining, the nagging, the "mild" stalking, the judging, the gossiping. I was clearly walking in the wrong direction.

I think in every relationship we have, whether business or personal or otherwise, it's important that we define what we want to give in that relationship. What we want to leave behind. We also need to define what we want to get out of it and how we want to get it. It needs to be more than just passion and feelings. It needs to be about action and returns. For example, if you enter into a business, its all well and good to be passionate about the venture, but alot of work is needed to get it up and moving and to the level you need it to be. Same reasoning is needed with relationships. Is it all about feelings and OMG's? What is your purpose there? Are you doing the legwork necessary to make it work?

It's important to know where you add value and where you don't. not just to imagine it and pretend that you are living but to truly know what it means to live a life of purpose. Just the same way you check who adds value to your life and who doesn't. Living and let live is all well and good, but in the process, you need to find out if your life is getting better or worse. If what you are doing will eventually get you to where you need to be. What are you losing along the way and what are you gaining? Are you living a value added life? On an unrelated note: The way I feel - Asa

One Minute

2012-06-27T10:11:00.002+03:00

He pulled her back. Stopped her right on her tracks...literally. In the middle of a bustling city. She had been talking at a million words a heartbeat and this abrupt stop took her by surprise. "One minute" He said calmly. "What?" She shrieked. Where was he going with this madness. They were already late. In fact she would be shocked if they found anything when they reached. "Stand with me here for one minute." She was flustered to say the least. She was agitated and that was putting it mildly. He held her hands. Something in his eyes told her to calm down. Be still. She stood with him in the middle of the street. While the world bustled and hustled around them. Silently. Suddenly all she could hear was his heartbeat. All she could see was the depth of his eyes. All she could feel was the palm of his hands. As that one minute stretched into the rest of their lives, she was sure.... that this was the day she would say she fell in love.

Lead Me ( Happy Father's Day)

2012-06-18T13:00:00.000+03:00

I love my dad. It's not something I hide. Mostly because he's an awesome character with an awesome personality and also because I'm a self-proclaimed daddy's girl. :-) But today I shall talk about all fathers especially those who have tried and have worked and fought; this post goes out to all of them. Yesterday was Father's Day, a day less celebrated than Mother's Day and even less so than Valentine's Day, the wife's birthday, the mother's chama's 6 month anniversary and the baby's first tooth removal. The only time he's celebrated is maybe his birthday and if his team wins the Championship Final or F1...and that is a big IF!! I do believe fathers are the world's unsung heroes yet their impact on a child is just as important if not more than a others. Their absence or presence, their action or inaction, the words or their silence. Even in the family set up, men still run the world. Their touch and voice still mean everything. Children will still run to the hills when the discipline is from the father. So, how do we equip men to be leaders of the home? How do we make them appreciated for their efforts and sacrifice? How do we make them know, that what they do means as much to everyone as they should. Maybe even if it doesn't include sending gifts and declaring undying love from the roof tops, we should consider our actions and embrace the outcome. So here are my few subjective suggestions. Be patient: As everyone well knows, men have a unique slowness that I can only describe as an underdeveloped left brain. Be patient with it. When he doesn't react as fast as he should because some 12th division team in Scotland is playing soccer at 8 am. Don't throw tantrums. At least not immediately. When it takes time for him to know his way around a diaper and forgets to give medicine to the child because they were outside building sandcastles and playing horsie, just remember, you matured much faster than he did. So he still has some ways to go. Be kind and try not to get easily angered: If he is trying to help, truly and honestly, do not criticise. At least not always. Be kind. Encourage it. Stand by him. Comfort him. Teach him. Be kind to his needs just the same way you need him to be kind to yours. Try and stay calm at all times because at some point, all the anger you keep for his behaviour will eventually hurt you and unfortunately affect the kids. Don't shout at him in public. That does not encourage the help you so seek. Stop the envy: Don't get pissed that he has a life over and beyond yours. You chose to ignore all that your life was and made the kids your only priority. Not that it is the wrong thing, but he didn't make that decision with you. He still has his boys, his work, his issues. If he has a night out with the boys occasionally to just get away from the world, let him. Don't guilt trip him into thinking that he's doing a crime. If he's willing to watch the kids while you get pampered at the spa or hanging out with the girls, then stop the envy and the guilt-tripping him. Don't boast,don't be proud and don't be self-seeking: The woman may have carried the baby for 9 months but both parents nurture him/her for the next century. Don't boast about how much you can do as a woman, how you work at the office and then work at home. How strong you are and how much you have had to bear. If he's trying his best to be the best that he can be in the house, don't diminish his efforts. Women are strong and they need to make the man believe he's stronger than he really is, especially in the home front. He will flail from time to time but with the right direction, he will thrive. And also don't forget, your children carefully watch your actions towards him. Do you want them going round putting other people down? Do not dishonor him: Do not talk about his manhood, his bedroom behaviour or his fatherhood shortcomings. Not in front of his friends and most importantly not in front of the children. Do not beat him,verbally or physically, even if you are from Nyeri. Do not put him down especially when he's at his lowest and do not act like the man of the house because, there's already is a man in the house. Always protect him, always trust him: He may not be too sure of what he's doing, but if he has promised to provide, then trust him. If he has promised never let you go, then trust him. Protect his image from the world. Protect his weaknesses, protect his pain. Don't go saying how he put the diapers inside out or how his own child just can't stand him. Protect his ego. Let everything that happens in your family be left in the family. Your girlfriends don't need the details. Of course this also applies to men too. That they may do the same to the mother of their children. After all, raising children shouldn't be a one-way street. Hope and persevere for yourselves as parents and for the children. You want to be the people they want to grow up and become, not the ones they are forever running away from. So, to all father's out there who are struggling, fighting, loving and caring for their children, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!

Big and I

2012-06-15T11:01:00.000+03:00

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. That is the first line of a tale of two cites. Big and I are a tale of two cities. My city and his. My life and his. My personality and his. Give me a moment to explain. Meet Big: He is fun, he is hopelessly intelligent, he is nice and kind and sometimes he does display compassion and mostly, he has a very cool sense of humour. He is a guy who has alot going for him. Great job, great friends, great life, great confidence, great adventure. At least that's what it looks like from my perspective on the outside looking in. I assume it's what most people see when they are looking in. Either that or I have a pretty distorted perspective. Meet I: I am all the above only in a very toned down manner. Very, very toned down. I am intelligent, pretty but I usually live vicariously through other peoples escapades and adventures. I'm my best with him and I'm my worst with him. It is the best of times and it is the worst of times. I'd like to think that every girl has a Big somewhere. Some get married to them, some kill them and some like me, use them for writing material and inspiration and maybe someday when we are old, we'll tell our grandkids about this guy I once knew who was like no one else I had ever met. I don't know if "muse" is the right word to use but the first time I posted something on this blog, it was because of him. Someone who drove you insane enough to wonder if this was love or you needed to check yourself into an asylum for check-ups. He drove me short of drawing those love heart things where you write both your names in. I was too proud to do that, lest anyone I knew...or didn't know... saw it and then I had to explain my insanity. He may never know or maybe he may know tomorrow. Maybe one of our collective intelligent friends will read between the lines and call him saying, "you do not want to read what she's written about you." and he'd go "No, she di'in't" I do not know. Because well, Big and I are a story long-winding Mexican soaps are made of. Only without the dramatic poor chic and the evil stepmother and the ranch inheritance and horse back riding....(with a pumped up intro like that don't you just want to watch Big and I) He is a relationship I can honestly say lived more in my mind than in real life. I filled in the gaps with great dramatisations that were played out on other men, only they didn't react like he would have. In fact, the crazy part is he rarely reacted like he should have. That was the relationship that I had between Big and I. A big relationship which left a big impact. You don't forget those. I think the truth about this whole "relationship" hit me hard last night when I sat there willing my phone to beep and hoping that the text will come through. 4 hours and a full season of "Sex and the City" later, I gave up and decided to stare a my orange wall and wait for the sun to come up. It hit me hard. But somehow this time it was different somehow. Like a peaceful letting go. I didnt blame him for my insomnia like I usually do. I didn't feel downtrodden and afraid of what he would reply to a "hey". I didn't imagine him being run over by angry models in stilettos. I didn't imagine his neighbour mistaking him for a weed smoker and calling the cops. I was just tired. Tired of making excuses about where he was, how busy he was or how much credit he had. I had had many nights where I wondered what he would say to "hi" or "hey" ...(don't look at me like that! I did claim temporarily insane at the beginning!) Whether if I slept he would know I was pretending not to care. For years of more back than forth, more silence than conversations, more wonder than certainty, it was a game I had learnt to play, and to play well. A game I had suddenly become very tired of. I lived on the edge with a very specific fear of his brother calling me to ask why I didn't attend Big's wedding. If this was living on the edge, I did not like it one bit. I needed to finally be very selfish and brutal with myself. I needed to ask myself, "what the hell did I think I was doing to myself?" "was I f*ing serious that this is how I wanted to live out my life?" Just like that, it stopped being about him and what he had done or not done and what he had said and not said or what he had meant or not meant. It was suddenly not about Big. It was never about him. It was about me and what I wanted and mostly what I needed. What I had and not done to myself, what I had said and not said to myself. I had been unknowingly letting him make those decisions for me for years. At least for 3 months every year. It wasn't fair to give him such a Big job. No wonder he wasn't doing so great at it. It was maybe time to release him of those particular duties. He is still a great guy with one of the biggest hearts I know. His humour hits you like a bus full of clowns and boy, when he smiles at you, it disarms everything in you. And maybe when I'm very drunk I shall tell some poor soul about this great guy I once knew who had beautiful, thick eyebrows. It was the best of times but it was also the worst of time. But like everything else in life, we take the good with the bad, we learn something from it and we move on to the next great adventure.

The Last Note.

2012-06-11T17:23:00.001+03:00

"I may not know you any more, maybe I never did. But I do know me.And I think that's more important right now." She let out a heavy sigh. Her hand trembled. As a writer, words used to come easily. But this time round, it felt like she had never written before. She looked around the room one last time, threw her pen into her bag and walked out of the house. In a few short steps, her heels would never be heard on the polished wooden floors again. She closed the bedroom door behind her while dragging her 3 suitcases behind her. The beauty of this apartment had faded over time, just like the love and the smiles. But it didn't matter now. Her phone rang. It was time. Almost a lifetime ago, she had met the most charming man in a bar near her office. She was pretty and intelligent, he was witty and well-mannered. Hard to imagine that those smiling faces were the same faces that grunted at each other all day long. She couldn't remember the last conversation they had ever had or the last event they had ever attended together. It didn't pain her as it should have, it just saddened her. There was no where for pain to fit into her life. Not any more. They'd drained it all. With their sedentary lives. She'd taken the day off work to do this, to pack and compose herself. She remembered waking up yesterday and knowing that undoubtedly, she needed to leave. She needed to go. Her time here had ended. They weren't fighting loudly like the couple downstairs. They didn't even answer each other rudely or insult each other in public. He never hit her and she could never complain that she lacked anything. From the outside looking in, she was in the best relationship that money....and life...could buy. But she was not happy. She was a shell of her former self. She was beaten and withered inside. She barely smiled, barely spoke and could barely remember what she had been when it all began. She had wanted to marry him once. A long time ago. Before they had decided to "consolidate their belongings" , before the silence and the cold. Before the late nights they both pulled in the office. Before the money. She had waited with bated breath as 2 years turned into 4 and then turned into forever. She had bought furniture that would match with their joy. She had shopped for curtains while searching for wedding fabrics, she had bought plates that would serve his parents and considered electronics that they would use into their old age. She journalled so that when the time came to quote to her grandchildren about her life, she would not...never...forget. Now it just seemed silly. She turned her power heels one last time to close the mahogany door into her dead life forever. She had made sure to leave food in the microwave, the beer was chilled, his laundry was well folded, his suit for tomorrow, laid out just right. She had ensured the shoes were polished and the TV was ready to PVR the Euro's incase he got in late from work or wherever. She had done every single chore just right. Then she had left the note in his night stand. He'd see it when he was removing his watch and his wallet. He was a creature of habit so she was sure exactly what time he would get it. They had stopped talking to each other a long time ago. She never knew what was going on in his life any more that he knew what was going on in hers. They ran their relationship like a well oiled machine. She did the house shopping and wrote half the cheque for the mortgage. He paid the bills and had a standing order for the cars. She knew he liked to eat fish on Friday after a drink with the boys and she ensured it was ready, he knew she hang out with girls on Saturdays and so sorted his food and could walk around naked until she came stumbling in. They tried not to be in the house at the same time. It was awkward. He slept on his side of the bed and she slept on hers. Short of having different sheets, they were technically on different beds. They never discussed each other to other people and as a silent unwritten rule, they had never gossiped about other people. So now they never spoke. Other than the family events,and even then it had become rare, they never went anywhere together. Just 2 ships sailing the open lonely waters. So as she got out of the lift and walked quietly across the lobby, she wasn't heavy hearted. She was just transitioning. To another level in her life. A place where she could learn to smile and experience new things and understand love. A love that spoke back and laughed and inquired with concern. She was sure he would feel the same. Well, almost sure. She left her life behind and her furniture and her mortgage and took with her; her heart instead. As she entered her car and revved it, she leaned back and closed her eyes and let her mind relive her relationship one last time. Re-live the good and the bad. Re-live the happy and the sad. For one last time, she let her eyes tear and finally forgave her heart and his for letting them drift this far apart. Then she put her car in gear and drove off to find herself. The phone, yes, she had to pick up the phone.

2012-06-11T17:19:00.001+03:00

God, Change and I

2012-05-28T15:30:00.000+03:00

This post is not about a laugh, or a cry. It is not about pain or suffering. We shall not be poking fun at my various misfortunes or laughing out loud at the *although hilarious* misfortunes of others. This post as you have seen is about "God, Change and me"

Meet me, a year ago. About a year and a half ago, I went through something I can only describe as an emotional breakdown. Saying it out loud makes it sound less ominous than I was feeling. I wasn't a crier, but I cried alot. I wasn't a complainer but I had nothing but complaints, I wasn't anything bad, but I did it anyway. Inside I was a mess. I wanted to die. Outside, it was all good. Life was great. Sometimes it broke through and I wrote a sad post here and there but all in all, I was in more pain than I had ever experienced. You see, the problem with girls like me, is we are not talkers, we don't express, we don't let the act of unburdening to unsuspecting, ~~usually unwilling~~ souls drag us through the mud. We hold it in. We embrace it. We let pain consume us until all that is left is a charred soul. A charred soul with no voice.

But about a year and a half ago, I broke. Almost irreparably. It was as shocking as it was rough. I wondered if people would miss me if I was gone. Not like to Somalia or Afghan but like really gone. I wrote eulogies in my sleep. I wondered in the silence of the night is life would be better on the other side. Then I heard that people feel much better when they get saved. So I drove around on a Saturday morning, with tears in my eyes most of that day, and looked for a pastor. You have no idea how busy pastors are on Saturday. Waaaa! Si I looked. I started looking at 9 and by 1, I still hadn't gotten a pastor. I had gone to offices, churches, asked, called,knocked on doors, ~~stopped innocent bystander on the street~~. I was getting hopeless. Even God didn't want to hear from me. I was done. The break was now complete.

That was the first time I heard about Alabastron. From a woman I went to cry to when I was most alone. A woman I had never met before. I didn't go that time round. I wasn't ready to let anyone see my soul. I did join a Bible Study group though. To see if God would really come through for me and eventually I did get saved. The pain lingered though. For a very long time, it held a grip on my heart. A grip so strong that sometimes I used to lose my breath. I admired people who seemed so joyous to be saved. Like there was an instant renewal. They had literally cast their burdens. My burdens were still with me. Holding on tight. So I pretended. I pretended to be free, I pretended that I was fine, I pretended that I was alive.

So I lived my life a little more for others. I dressed like I thought they would like, I talked like I thought was acceptable. I clung, I pulled and pushed people. After a year of causing myself more pain than joy. Making decisions that made me feel foolish afterwards, I decided it was time for change. It's a strange time. That point when you reach that crossroad where you know its only one way or the other. YOU are either going out or you are going up. For the second time, a few days before I handed in my resignation,I met someone else who told me to try out Alabastron, so I was like "What the hell! This was my last resort anyway." After this, I'm not trying any more. I was going to be done. I was on fumes.

So with the last money I had in my account. I signed up, in secret. I did tell my friends abit later; after I had started. But I needed to do this by myself, for myself. That was a little more than 3 months ago. I entered the class and sat at the very back. Doubting them all the way. Doubting that they could do that which God had been unable. Here are a few things I have learnt in my 3 months in the program: a)Forgiveness: No one hurts you unless you love them. Unless they mean something to you. You don't need to forgive the watchie who, ~~for his own self pleasure~~, decided to give you a snide remark. You need to forgive your mother, your friend, your ex, your spouse, your child. I needed to forgive, first and foremost, myself. For all the things I felt I had let myself down for. For not making it as far as I thought I should, for thinking I was never good enough, pretty enough, bright enough, charismatic enough. I needed to forgive God. For everything. Nilikuwa naona nimetendewa. I felt betrayed, lost and I felt it was His fault. It was His responsibility to save me and He hadn't bothered. Later I realised that maybe He was preparing me for such a time as this. A point where I would be so broken, that there was only Him. Then there was everyone else, and slowly in equal measure it was time to put the past behind, one moment at a time. One painful experience after another.

b) The brutal truth: It is said the truth shall set you free. Hehehehe! Give me a moment to shake my head. (private joke!) The brutal truth about myself, when I finally realised what was disturbing me made me once, not too long ago, cry in the middle of the road; for myself. I could not believe that I had been lying to myself for so long. We lie to others about who we are for so long, that we start to believe it. It was rough. The people I disliked just because. The ones I disregarded, the ones I blamed. Everyone was bad but me. When I realised how I had drugged myself down with all my lies. It is good to also look at the truth about others. People most often than not say what they mean, at face value. I did not listen. Not to the ones who wanted to stay and especially not to the ones who wanted to leave. It was terrible. I was terrible. The truth no matter how bad or painful or brutal, is always the truth. It is out there.

c)Purpose: Some people know what they need to do early in life, others live their whole lives and don't ever know. I thought I would be the latter. Where my job frustrates me to an early grave. Slowly, I have began to understand what it would mean to live within my purpose. Not to be scared to go to work every morning. To know that out there, there's a place designed just for me. It may take a while but I know its coming. Work, fun and enjoyment will be wrapped up into one happy day. :-)

I still have some ways to go. Infact the journey has just began. But I am quietly excited about it. About the future. The change has began. Slowly but beautifully. It's good to know myself. Know who I belong to, know my own decisions and be sure of them. So the past hurt, so what? We pick up and move on. The future is yet to come. So this story involving God, change and me...this one shall continue for a long time to come.

A small note for men!

2012-04-24T12:05:00.000+03:00

My premise of living is that "life is supposed to be simple." Love, live, life. I'm no expert but I think God didn't intend for us to over-complicate our lives. I was at a training last week where one of the speaker kept emphasising "Less is more and simple is complex". (by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe) The reason this is important is because we are so used to complicated and intense that we find it hard to just be "simple". To try and not over-think our lives and our situations. To do what we need to do, to be free in body, soul and mind. Our biggest complications though are made in the confines of a relationship. Any relationship. Between spouses, lovers, friends, parents and children. Somehow, it takes alot of time (too much time in my opinion) to get to that point where we can simplify and accept things for what they are. We find it so hard to simplify even the smallest situations.

I had the opportunity of listening to Simon Mbevi (Pst)on Saturday evening and he said that rang truer to me than a lot of self help books and ill advice have given me over the year. I will share with you what a man said about relationships. Because after all, every man needs to here it from another man on how to treat a woman before it sinks in. According to his vast research, he found out that most people need 3 things to have healthy relationships. a) Love (preferably unconditional) b) Identity c) Affirmation

Now, from my personal observation and experience, men are usually the biggest burdens that women carry. Men that they love, are especially a thorn on their sides. Their fathers, first love, bosses, siblings. For most, it seems the more a woman loves them, the more the man are determined to prove otherwise. I'm not saying all men are all bad all the time, but for most men, at one point along their way to manhood, hurt one woman so badly, she defined all her future relationships by the standards he left behind. Sometimes, it is not their fault. Wrong has known to be done out of ignorance. But as they grow up from boys to men, you would expect some basic rules to be apparent. This brings me back to Simplicity and the basics of a healthy relationship. If you think critically on those 3 rules, you will see how simple it is to make a woman happy forever.

a) (Unconditional) Love: Mbevi said "whether a woman wants to get married or not, every woman was born with a deep desire to be loved for who she is" I put unconditional in brackets because if we are true to ourselves, we know that we do not date or marry demi-gods, we date massively flawed human beings. Almost as massively flawed as we are. So it would be idiotic to expect unconditional love from them. They may claim it even sing it at the rooftops but we do end up doing things that push that 'unconditional love' to 'conditional dislike'. Even we, as women can't love someone unconditionally. However, we can try to overlook some patterns and flaws that may never change. According to wikipedia:

"Love is an emotion of a strong affection and personal attachment. Love is also a virtue representing all of human kindness, compassion, and affection; and 'the unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another'. Love may also be described as actions towards others or oneself based on compassion, or as actions towards others based on affection."

If you think about it, you never knowingly hurt someone you truly love. You want the best for them, the best for their future. Ignoring them for days, kicking them when they are down, beating them, insulting them in public, does not constitute love. If we are to go with the simplicity of what love should be, we should listen to that chapter that is read over and over in all weddings. We should internalise it.

Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails...But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7,13

Think about it, the next time you are wondering why your woman is bringing you headaches, examine yourself, are you truly loving her. Are the things you are doing displaying the kind of love you want her passing to your children or her future children? Because believe it or not, how a woman acts is s reflection of your actions towards her.

b)Identity: My biology teacher in high school, when she was giving us tips on how to pass exams told us, that to understand anything, you must first start with its definition.

So what is "Identity" - the distinctive character belonging to any given individual, or shared by all members of a particular social category or group.

With this is mind, a vast majority of people describe themselves by their identity. "I am an engineer, IT specialist, writer, nani's daughter, whoever's friend." ; "I am someone because other people can identify me." We hang out with the cool kids so that 'cool' becomes our identity. We go to the 'uptown' places because that is where we want our identity to lie. No man is an island, and less so for a woman. Women hate being islands, much as they isolate themselves from time to time. One of the biggest identities that women hold onto is being "a man's someone". Someone's legit someone. I am yet to meet a clande who introduce's herself as " john, Jim or Jose's clande". They always say "I'm his girlfriend." If a woman does not know what her identity is as far as a relationship lies, it goes without saying that some day, she will tire and move on to find 'her identity'. Because, sad is it may sound, women value that identity. The fact that they belong is very important. In Steve Harvey's book, 'Act like a lady, Think like a man', he emphasises on the importance of "professing". If a man doesn't profess where a woman lies, then it is time for her to rethink her strategy. So, men, a woman is not nagging you because she is a nag....she just needs to know where she lies as far as you are concerned. This is an important lesson. If everything you are doing is behind closed doors, ~~then there's no way in hell~~, that you are in a happy relationship. The woman finally ends up being fed up. If you created that devil, deal with it.

c)Appreciate: There's this scene from the movie, 'The Help' where the nanny makes the child repeat. "You is smart, you is kind, you is important" We seek appreciation for who we are, from a very young age. We want someone to recognise who we are. You would be lying if you have never wanted some kind of recognition for your efforts. Whether its at work, at home, in a sports field, wherever. We all need cheer leaders in our lives. People who tell us that we are on the right track, that we didn't make a mistake in our decisions. Your significant other, ~~when you decide that is what they are~~, needs to be your biggest fan ~~and most objective critic~~. It's what they are supposed to do. Not some times, not when the sun is shining, not when the winter is turning into spring.....but ALL THE TIME. Nothing expresses love and identity like having someone at your corner. Men are told over and over to tell the women in their lives that they are beautiful, they are kind and they are important. If you break her enough with your words (or in this case your silence), with your deeds and misdeeds, you will lose that woman you once knew. A woman who sparkled and lit the room with her mere presence. When you burn that light, you rarely ever get it back. Not doing or saying anything is as bad, if not worse, than going to the other extreme of putting her down for who she is. It doesn't need to be everyday, but every so often, you should look your woman in the face and tell her "You is is smart, you is kind, you is important.". Sometimes, that's all that's needed to fix a problem. This is not from me, it's from a man, so don't go shooting me. We may need to think like men, but would you think less of us if we just thought like women.