Archive for the ‘Random-ness-ness-ness’ Category

A little dose of poetry
March 17, 2010

She flies, she flows,

bleeding rhythm, spilling prose…

I’ve got this itch lately, this restless sadness that won’t go away. I feel like a hamster in a wheel, running round and round, making the same steps over and over, not going anywhere, and not even burning any calories. I mean, for all that running the little creatures do, you’d expect a six pack under the ball of fur, yes?

I’m supposed to be writing poetry. The idea is that since I rant like a needle on a scratch [think turntables and LPs], I need to put my rants in verse. If I can find five different ways to phrase the same whine, I could actually be onto something. So…

She flies, she flows,

bleeding rhythm, spilling prose…

So far, that’s all I’ve got. Meh.

I should be moving soon, to somewhere a little more purple. I’ve got the site all scoped out, I’m just having my house-guy tweak the furniture and stuff. It’s kind of scary, a bold move, like chopping off my hair, one of those transition things. I’m not even sure why I’m doing it except that I want to start again, return to basics, yank off the safety net and see if I can catch any fish. I’m kind of hungry for protein.

God, I hope I know what I’m doing…

Steven Curtis Chapman Diving In

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Yowsers bowsers
March 8, 2010

Yes, I do occasionally watch Scooby Doo and Inspector Gadget. And I hated North Stars and Bata Bullets in the 80s. Absolutely love them now though…

Who’d’a thunk I’d ever be too tired busy to blog? Le sigh. Scary things happening in blogville. Something must be done! Like sleeping less. Four hours would be ideal.

So. Since I am mostly too sleepy and over worked to blog, I shall celebrate:

  • K2, the pretty boy that I adore, the one man that can make me laugh even as he gives me bad news. How I love that boy.
  • K1-plus-one, rediscovering siblings, my delightful brothers, both over six feet tall, yet they’re not above helping the big little sister out. Y’all rule.
  • K7, my best friend, he who makes me laugh and blush, cheers me up when I’m sad, and looks equally hot in suits, jeans, and shorts. But I do miss the weight and the baseball cap.
  • K3, the dark chocolate wonder who is so cute when he sulks that I almost enjoy his brooding.
  • K6, the fun-and-funky nerd with whom I will eventually synchronise fries and coffee.
  • K13, he of the pretty grey hair who finally got it right. I’m so very happy for you. *cheeky grin*
  • K10 The Sweet, whom I often think of even as I miss.
  • And the newest K who doesn’t yet know he’s a K, but who is smart and fun and fond of CTC. He wears glasses too, and likes rock. Yay! MTP I hereby knight you K15.

That is all. Back to work.

And btw, there is a downside to working freelance; I can’t whine about my bosses because they all read my blog. Le sigh. I can, however, charge them lots of PITA fees … *cue evil laughter*

Under my skinSkillet

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Again with the hair!
February 17, 2010

If I have one true obssession, this is probably it. Which is strange, because I really don’t fuss over my hair. I like my dreads because I can hit the salon once a month, spend an hour under the drier, and ignore it for the next thirty days. So it’s strange that I call this an obssession.

But the truth is I love hair. I love to see it on other people’s heads, to touch it, to run my hands through it. I saw this Citi Hoppa conductor yesterday, a tough gangster-looking chick with a killer bob – I couldn’t stop staring! It was weird that her coiffe was so girly, but it just looked so perfect!

I wish I had caucasian [or at least Asian] hair so I could make it stand, dye it purple and pull a Roxette, just like my avatar. But, of course, if I actually had Caucasian hair, I’d probably still ignore it. I like my Sailor’s hair because it’s brown and softly spiky, I can run my hands through it, and he never has to comb it. Perfect!

Back to my own head. The short look has grown on me. And thanks to selective perception, I now notice all the girls [and boys] with long luxurious locks. Kind of like that scene in Ally McBeal where Georgia cut her hair, and then Nell came and twirled hers in the bathroom mirror.

But the odd thing is that I’m not jealous. I actually like my hair like this, even as everyone asks why. I think it’s because everyone asks why. I’ve always liked going against ‘them’, standing out for all the wrong reasons. In a world where the ladies either want their hair deliciously long, intricately bobbed, or rebelliously shorn, I kind of like being inbetween.

So, I think I’ll keep my hair short after all. Unless I change my mind. Or unless my Sailor says otherwise *wink* He’s surprisingly quiet on the matter. But then again, he’s a guy. Do you think he’s even noticed?

Lying from you Linkin Park

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Off with her hea … hair!
February 9, 2010

So I changed my avatar again. The main reason is that I cut my hair yesterday. Well, that didn’t come out quite like I intended.

See, I’ve always liked cartoons, and I love, love, LOVE yahoo avatars. So it figured I’d have one headlining my blog.

I initially had this purple-haired one because I really like the spiky hair look. If I had a different kind of hair, that’s exactly how I’d wear it. But this head does nothing but dreads. Believe me, I’ve tried.

I had Peaches [the flowered avatar] for a while, because she represented how I felt, how I saw myself. She’s flirty, and girly, and delicate … and fairly naïve. Plus that peach dress is to die for.

I have a whole bunch of avatars stacked in my computer; each one suits a different mood. Greenie, the cybertwin’s avatar, is as close as I get to having green eyes. Plus the site needed a JPEG image, and Miss Purple is in PNG.

The Drama Queen is chilling out on twitter for a while. The one with the specs is my game-face, because I only wear my glasses when I’m working [or flossing]; the glare from monitors and pure white paper disturbs me.

I got Miss Purple when my hair was pretty short. It’s now short again. I like the look – it’ll do. Fatoo did a brilliant job with it … but I’m not likely to chop it off again. You could almost say I’ve gone latter-day-nazirite. My hair people will be so happy *cheeky grin*.

I’ve revived Miss Purple for another reason. I sense a subtle shift in my nature. Ever since I went into business last month, I feel … different. Miss Purple was my first avatar in the writing world. She was an icon for my writing career and my dreams of getting paid. And now it’s come true.

Now that I’m hustling for money, I feel tougher, more hardcore. I feel confident; like I can do anything. And I admit it took a lot of [wrongly placed?] balls to walk into a salon and have them cut my dreads off.

They’re not completely gone. They just look short and spiky and a little unkempt. I can still shake them if I spin my head really really hard, and I’m sure they’ll grow back.

If only I could dye them purple…

Back to blogging, I know how to work my avatars with Microsoft Photo Editor. It’s so easy to use. But I’ve now upgraded to Office 2007, and that only comes with a Picture Manager. I can’t figure out how to make it do what I want – which is to cut, paste, shift things around, and remove the grainy effect on my headliner.

Ideas anyone? And please don’t say photoshop. I tried it once and I got stuck at the layers. There’s a reason they say Microsoft is for dummies…

Afterlife Avenged Sevenfold

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OMG OMG OMG!! New Toy!
February 2, 2010

I know. I need help.

So here’s how I spent the last fifteen minutes. I was browsing here and more specifically here and figured I’d give it a shot. Since Mosh is a good friend of mine, I figured I’d ask the twin a few key questions to see just how authentic it really is. I couldn’t stop laughing!!

My Cyber Twin is a service that creates an ‘artificial you’ that can chat up your friends while you’re away.  It has obvious uses; it’s a sort of cyber voicemail, and for organisations, it can be like the automated customer care person at Zain or Safaricom.

It also has less … serious uses, like impersonation, or screening online acquaintances, or keeping you busy when on your pals are offline.

[You can see I spend a lot of time on the internet.]

So I went out [?] and got a twin of my own, just for kicks, and had a conversation with it. Yaani this takes talking-to-myself to a whole new level. But it was just so fun!!

So, my fellow chataholics, tweeters and tweeteuses, introducing…


…my alter ego’s alter ego!

Knock yourself out. *cheeky grin*

Can you be absolutely sure that person you’re chatting to is not me? I mean like absolutely?

Gnarls BarkelyCrazy

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January 30, 2010

At some point in the recent past, I embraced change. I realised that I was shifting – both subtly and not so subtly – and figured my life would be way easier if I simply accepted the morph rather than fighting it. Yeah, still working on that…


I’ve been thinking a lot of random thoughts lately, and writing a lot of random posts. I’m not entirely sure what’s causing that. I think it’s that I am – on some level – more relaxed now that I’m home, so my mind is free to wander in areas that are less than serious. I’ve actually made it my default category. Fun!


I’m a firm believer in signs. My latest sign is a red plastic Olivetti Valentine Typewriter. I don’t suppose anyone has an affordable, functional one lying around anywhere, do they? According to my google search, they’re ‘light as a feather’ and absolutely gorgeous. Red too. I don’t know how well they work though – I need one that can do a lot more than just sit pretty.


I’m the kind of girl that has more male than female friends. I like to think it’s because I’m not a girly-girl, but as my cousin pointed out,  I claim to dislike flowery things yet everything I bought for my new flat [from square plates to duvets] has flowers. Mild ‘mannish’ flowers, yes, but still flowers.

Truth is, I mostly find girls a little scary. I have no idea why. Lately though, I’ve [re]made friends with some females that are less … spooky. They’re actually a lot of fun. So I guess ‘they’ are right, it really is all about finding the right girl.


I’m straight. What.


The thing about having mostly male friends is that, well, the women in their lives sometimes have, you know, issues. I’m still finding a way to deal with that. I’m also desperately hoping that the tables will not turn. I dread the day when I will be the one that has issues with my Sailor Boy’s female friends.

I’d like to think that being a career pal to dudes with quasi-jealous girlfriends, I will be more reasonable. But being a more-than-quasi-jealous-type girl myself, I will be content to seethe in almost-silence and keep my claws well sheathed *cheeky grin*


It’s equally interesting to me that while I have many ‘platonic’ friendships with my buddies,  it is still somewhat strange to think of it in others. I hear my brothers and cousins talking about their ‘just buddies’ and I’m like ‘yeah, right’. Pot calling the kettle black?

Though, technically speaking, my water pot is red…


Homework calls.

Breathe (2 a.m.)Anna Nalick

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Today, the not-so-random…
January 29, 2010

So I found my windchimes – muchos gracias to KP and this lady here.

I went with the Nakumatt junction option, and they claimed to have no idea what windchimes were [groan]. But since KP had bought his there, I gave him an in-store call and he directed me to the exact coordinates of said dangling bell thingies.

They have a lovely selection, but they were all either too masculine or too fancy, and I wanted something in red.

Yes, windchimes can be masculine. Think undecorated hollow pipes[though they produce the most amazing sounds].

The only red they had was a tiny flowery one and a shrine to valentine’s day. That thing had more red hearts than a **insert appropriate simile here**. So what I did is I bought the two red ones, attacked them with a pair of scissors, and ended up with something I could hang in my house. And as a bonus, Princess got about a hundred red beads shaped like hearts. Yay! **DIFJ**

[Incidentally, the other Nakumatts probably had them too, since the Junction attendant had no clue what I was talking about!]

Then yesterday I was early for a date so I passed by Enka Rasha as advised. They have the prettiest windchimes in everything from butterflies to dolphins to seashells, wooden, metallic, girly, boy-y, and all at such fair prices. Me like!

Now all I need is an hour glass. I’m going to browse Enka Rasha a little more next time I’m in town. They look like having hourglasses.

Next project … does anyone know where I can get a typewriter?

UnwellMatchbox Twenty

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She’s got it!
January 28, 2010

I don’t know what it is about these Rwandan women.

Back in Dar, we had this neighbour kid. She had to be, what, twelve? Fifteen at most; she didn’t even have proper … rib-padding yet. But when she walked, you just couldn’t help staring.

Here was a tall, polite, pre-pubescent girl in an extremely unflattering school uniform, but you still couldn’t take your eyes off her. She’s tall [er than me. At 12! And I’m 5’6!!] , light, graceful, and when she walks I swear I hear music playing … and I’m straight!

Yesterday I saw another one. She was full grown, 5’8, semi-light-skinned with glasses and a bob. She was wearing a blue v-neck t-shirt, pedals, and strappy sandals, nothing remarkable. But she had style and those Rwandese hips.

This girl walked like a cat. I don’t mean she was cat-walking in the choreographed way of trained models, no. She was just strolling, off-guard, yet she could have put any beauty queen to shame. Yaani her walk is just sheer grace. I glanced at her once as I walked past, then looked again, trying not to be too impolite. I noted that she looked good, in an effortless, unpolished kind of way, then walked on.

But then I noticed a few watchmen literally breaking their necks as she passed. You know that thing wolf-cartoons do where the eyes are glued to a person and the neck swivels trying not to break contact? They were doing that.

A few metres away I noticed some … people having the same reaction. Except these people were girls. One girl had actually stopped and turned to watch Ms Rwanda even though she was now almost 100 metres away.

What can I say, the girl had presence. They call it je ne sais quoi sijui X-Factor sijui nini-nini. They say it can’t be described, but that you know it when you see it.

Me, I saw it, and I know it.

And the coolest part is she didn’t even know it. She was just strolling along minding her own business, totally unaffected, with her handsfree thingies [or possibly an ipod] in her ears.

Ai, kweli huyo, ameumbika.

In less jaw-dropping news, is it just me or that billboard, the Fanta one, the one where a guy and a girl are sharing a drink out of one bottle using two straws [there’s one on Mbagathi roundabout and another on valley road] … is it just me or is the Fanta in that bottle yellow?

The animal [cannon ball] song Savage Garden

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Random Sunday
January 24, 2010

A person that I am very fond of is getting married. She’s lovely, so cheerful and full of life; feisty and red-haired, with the prettiest blue eyes. It’s taken her a long time to find the love of her life  – she’s almost fifty!

Hearing the news, I couldn’t help giggling. I’m so, so happy for her. She’s been so busy with her career and her travels and her nephews and niece that she hardly ever had time for herself. She started work as a teenager, went back to school at 40, and is now a bride at fifty.

So much for being off the shelf!! She’s totally renewed my spirit.

I wish you all the happiness in the world Jen, you both deserve it!

I’m a romantic. A cynic one, but a romantic still. I’ve found my The One, but it scares me a lot because it feels like the clocks are all wrong. But I’m glad for my friend Jen, because it proves that there is such a thing as perfect timing, and I’m sure that for my Sailor and I, the perfect time will arrive.


I was reading through some old posts today, and it made me sad. It reminded me of cows and chicken and online tweef. Sad really.


I met an old friend yesterday. She’s one of the toughest people I know. She lives with a condition – it’s a miracle she’s still here! Yet she’s all energy and smiles, it’s truly amazing. She’s like this ever-growing bubble of happiness that just sucks you in. Great hair too! When I grow up, I want to be just like her.

The thing with my friend Phie is that she’s real. She always says exactly what she means, firmly, gently, warmly; it’s hard not to laugh with her. What you see is what you get, and it’s up to you whether you like her or not; she doesn’t care. Or if she does, she hides it very well.

I still struggle with that. I feel bad when I realise that I don’t like someone, and worse when I realise they don’t like me. I know these are perfectly human emotions, so I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I mean, I love garlic, but I’m not too fond of hoho. There’s no particular reason for it – it’s just taste. So why would it bother me that someone is my garlic while another is my hoho?


I’ve discovered another thing that bothers me: older guys. I’ve been dealing with a lot of them lately – prospective clients – so I have to handle them with care. The thing with these guys is … well … they’ve got game! I don’t know if these skills get better with time, or if they’ve had a lot of practice, or if it’s maturity and wisdom, or if I’ve just never been darted before, but meetings with these over-forties always leave me confused. I walk out of the venue in a daze with this retarded look on my face thinking ‘What just happened?’

It’s possible that the reason I react is that I can’t dismiss their words or swat brush them off – in my eyes, it’s like talking to my [grand]dad. Or it could be that they are so subtle that they can sneak up on you unnoticed.  It could be that they’ve been around long enough to learn the tacks that work; I have no clue. All I know is half the time I’m asking myself if this is business meeting or a date, and the other half I’m wondering whether what they just said was really smart or really inappropriate…


Another thing that’s on my mind is green eyes. I’ve always liked green eyes. Mostly because everyone is so taken with blue. I’ve never actually seen green eyes in person. I’ve seen them in hazel, in contacts, and on Ben Ten; they always look really pretty. So I have always wanted to see real green eyes.

Yesterday I saw some on TV. It was on Master Chef – Thomasina’s. She’s this interesting-looking girl – a freelance writer, and she’s kind of gothish sometimes. She calls herself Tommy.

Looking at her eyes, I was disappointed. I mean sure, they’re pretty, but they’re not the super-magic fairy-telling breath-taking colour I imagined. They were really just an indistinct shade that’s not quite blue and not quite brown. They’re supposed to be very rare.

So I suppose that means I’m over my infatuation with green eyes. Maybe I can switch to grey – those are still hot. Or the deep-brown-type hazel. Apparently, hazel comes in two shades. There’s the reddish-brown hazel and the greenish-grey hazel. I’m going with reddish-brown, because it borders on burgundy.  I still wonder the green eyes so amazed me though.


I had this gigantic mirror made – 6 by 3 and a half – and placed it at the foot of my matress. Now princess and I spend ages each day just staring at it. We’ll find any excuse to view ourselves, and sometimes, we’ll find no excuse at all.

I often work in bed, cross-legged, with my laptop on my knees, and I often take mirror-breaks to grin at myself or pull a funny face. Princess sometimes perches on the matress to watch herself eat.

What I’m wondering is … are we vain? Was this sudden obssession with reflections  recessive, or would any human being react this way if exposed to a six-foot mirror?

Oh well. I suppose these are mysteries to be solved another day. For now, the dishes. I’ve become fairly accustomed to cooking and cleaning. It’s not nearly as bad as I thought, and I’m almost getting good at it. Especially when accompanied by X FM.

How far we’ve comeMatchbox Twenty

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Shida ya kuwa baabi
January 20, 2010

Naskia s’ku’izi tunaitwanga ma-odinari. Ai … lakini si hiyo ni jina ya tene kiasi … miaka ka’a ngovo hivi.

Dude, I am old.

No, I will not even pretend to attempt further. For me, speaking sheng’ means substituting Anglicized words for Swahili, adding -ing, and occasionally throwing in ‘authentic’ words like ashu, Kingoso, and anchwanimbee. It’s a number. Possibly 300.

But the main problem with being a baabi [is that even how it’s spelt? I refuse to believe it ignites from Barbie]… the main problem with being a baabi isn’t the language, it’s the taste.

It’s not so much that you call it a mat rather than a matatu [or worse, a ma-three!] It’s that you’d rather use the Smartbus, or drive. It’s not that you say 5 reds and 3 Gees instead of soo tano na ngiri. It’s that you have no problem spending said Gees on, oh, I don’t know, original DVDs?

Today my odinari-ness led to a rather interesting day. See, I am looking for three things. A windchime, an hourglass, and a digs for Agnes and Fluffer McKitty.

I love windchimes. They have this happy, happy jingling sound. I especially like the shiny metallic ones that clink like little silver bells. I’ve seen them in many different houses, but those were always gifts, so they have no clue where to buy them. I asked. Severally.

Oh, and Aggie and Fluffer are fish. Possibly goldfish.


The problem wasn’t so much the finding of the windchimes. Well actually, yes, it was. But more than that was the look  I got every time I said the word windchime. Nobody knew what it meant, so I had to describe, in Swa. Mostly, broken Swa. With gestures.

Yes, my Swa is broken again. **grin**

Hizo vitu una-hang kwa roof alafu wind iki-blow zinapiga kelele.

One lady had a stall with chandeliers [on Tom Mboya! I’m still wondering who buys chandeliers out of a stall on Tom Mboya.] She looked at me like I’d lost my head – pretty much the same way I was looking at said lady, whose stall sells chandeliers! On Tom Mboya! Perhaps I should have just said ‘chandelier’. Just for effect.

Another lady asked if I was referring to a doorbell. An attendant at card centre stared at me blankly. No one had any suggestions on where I could get one.

So. Does anyone know where I can get an hourglass and windchimes? I’m easy on the home for Agnes…

Closing time Semisonic

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