Fantasy and me.

I have become more than ridiculous at this blogging thing...

I did however write a short story and was supposed to write one a day but look at me now... I'm still at one story :D 

I intend to type it out here for posterity because I'm pretty sure I will end up losing this piece of paper I wrote it on TWO MONTHS AGO if I don't. 

DAMMIT! It just hit me I'm using it as a bookmark for this book I'm reading by Terry Goodkind that I randomly found on the Nairobi City Streets (Kui, when you read this a few months later... kindly remember that your brain really wanted to write "outchea" but you figured you're too grown but you still wanted to be hip and remind your brain...)

*gasps*

I always thought Terry Goodkind was a WOMAN! Well, his name IS Terry... but that would then explain why in this book, his first book the woman is always crying and emotional. It makes it hard for me to relate to her... I'm not the squishy kind... but it made me think this person (the author) was in touch with their emotions *giggling* 

Any whooot, this his book, his first book is called Wizard's First Rule. I finally understand what it means to be at the edge of your seat when reading... I'm constantly in a state of errrm - flux? Like reading it makes me want to throw it away because the protagonist and his Bae (yeah I wrote it) are CONSTANTLY in danger! And there are underlying currents to what's going on that makes me want to scream...

LE SIGH!

I must instantly pay for my iced cappucino (came to use free wi-fi at the Oval while dropping off a sample for Simi) and go home and partake of it for the next two hours before I have to pick up guys from the hotel (Pullman's in Westlands where we're fitting caesarstone in the bathrooms).

In other news I need to learn how to stop promising shit I can't deliver on.

Na kwa hayo machache...

I'm out!

... the awakening

Every story has an end but in life, every ending is just a new beginning

She rises from her bed and looks out across the skyline watching the first hint of daybreak glistening in the dark. “Joy comes in the morning” she thinks, remembering her mother’s mantra. She looks over her shoulder at the sleeping form wondering when the illusion will break. Her satin gown trails along behind her like a discarded lover picking up the debris of the night past.

She wishes it was different but this is the life she chose when he showed up outside her door and the decision she made when she let him in.

Every decision has a consequence. She wonders what far reaching consequences this current episode will have and chooses not to think about it... yet. Let tomorrow worry about itself once the sun comes up and it shines on all her iniquities.

She picks up her wine glass and tops it up to the brim cringing at the bitter taste of the merlot in her mouth. Running her tongue over her teeth clarifies it – she somehow found time to brush her teeth. When did that happen?

The comatose figure moans in his sleep and she’s tempted to go back but if she does she’s done for. She keeps gliding forward towards the balcony doors, uncannily drawn to her favorite part of the pad.

She slides open the door slowly and shuts it behind her, shivering slightly at the brisk pre-dawn cold. An owl hoots in the semi dark adding to the melancholy of her present moment. She’s with someone yet still so alone.

She finds the pack of cigarettes he was smoking earlier and considers them for a moment wondering where he bought them. Flipping the case she sees the “Only for sale in Nigeria” declaration. Hmmm… Lagos. She wonders what he accomplished there. He’s that kinda guy –the kind of guy who accomplishes what he sets out to do. She briefly wonders what if anything he feels accomplished about with her.

She slips a cigarette into her mouth and clicks open his Zippo. It was her gift to him on his 30^th birthday; solid gold, monogrammed with the simple initials J.K.

What a joke! She thinks then begins to remember. Tries to shake back the memories but they keep coming back, flooding back like a tsunami actually. To the night when they first met…

It’s getting harder yet easier.

A slight twirl of the wheel and she has a flare she hides while cupping her hand.

Takes a deep drag and exhales as she flips the cap closed.

Nicotine rush.

Aaaah.

This feels great she thinks. It’s been a long while but oh so necessary. She takes another puff for posterity and appreciates the taste of the tobacco swirling down her tongue to her lungs. Hedonistic pleasure is the best form of pleasure.

Exhale.

She watches the lights twinkling in the distance and lights going on at the apartment across the street. She wonders what the neighbors would think if they saw her like this, half naked with only a sheer night gown keeping her decent. She involuntarily draws the gown closer like a shield across her, belts and tightens it before taking a sip of her wine and wondering why she cares. They may be married and wondering who the lucky guy is, or alternatively hating her for what they term her freedom. No one is ever really free.

It’s because of how she was brought up she remembers. It’s hard to forget who you really are.

Good girl gone bad she thinks. Like Rihanna. But only she judges herself at this hour.

The cigarette is half gone before she hears the sound of the sliding door gliding open behind her. He comes up against her while she’s still leaning against the balcony wall watching the city and nudges her back with his morning wood. She feels a frission of excitement. “Hey baby” he says with his I-just-woke-up voice.

He’s insatiable and she’s about to reach her breaking point. Then he turns her around and kisses her soundly. It’s odd how the taste of his morning breath doesn’t revolt her as much as it would with anyone else. When was there any anyone else she wonders.

Then he picks her up and shoves her up against the left wall. She moans and realizes he’s completely nude. "This is so unlike him," she thinks as he slides her down onto him. She doesn’t understand how she’s already wet and ready. He does this to her with just his presence and she knows how much he loves the knowledge of what he does to her.

She moans as he starts his rhythm, picking her up slightly and bringing her down gently until she’s whimpering for more. He gyrates slowly working her up to a crescendo all the time looking deep into her eyes as if willing her to see him and only him.

The world shatters and all of a sudden she realizes where she is. A few seconds later, he too comes and buries his head into her shoulder biting down hard. She feels him sliding out of her as he lets her down slowly.

“You look like the cat that ate the canary” he says. In all this time she hasn’t whispered a word as she doesn’t want to break the spell.

She smiles and kisses him again, long and hard, as a way of thanking him for always sorting out her needs first before getting his. He has that dangerous look on his face though and she tries to run off saying ‘no, no, no’ when he grabs her hand and shoves her back against the balcony she was leaning against before he came out to play.

She takes the last drag on the cigarette as he parts her legs and enters her hard from behind. She shuts her eyes and takes in all of him, gasping at the feeling once he’s all the way in. He puts his hands around her and starts playing with her clit as he expertly strokes in and out.

Her legs shake as she’s being worked over like a well-oiled engine. She comes again and this time he gives her a brief respite before he continues stroking. “It feels, sooo good baby” she says clutching the balcony railing for support. It’s too late. She broke the spell and spoke.

He comes again with a muffled cry and before she realizes it he’s sobbing. Her eyes jerk open in surprise.

“What’s going on?” she says turning to look at him.

He crumples to the ground with sudden grief. She’s finally going to hear the truth.

What comes out next though completely blows the wind out her sails.

“I’m getting married Ciku”

She shouldn’t have opened her damn mouth.

This is her life.

I am outrageous

I know it. Yes,

I claim that I will post but don’t. So I’ll just go back to posting about random shit that happens in my life. That used to be fun. And it used to make a lot of sense as it actually showcased the real me.

SO.  Let’s get started.

We kick off with last night’s madness and why I ended up rocking up to work late stuck in traffic? Lol. Yes that works.

I have this friend who I usually get up to a lot of madness with. If I let her have her way with me… and I have become adept at NOT letting her have her way with me. Particularly on week days… it just doesn’t end well… and I’ve become a cucu who likes to sleep. Yes. I have. In order to get in so much work I need to get so many hours of sleep.

Thanks Tina Fey.

She took the words right out of my fingers :D

Yesterday however, I FAILED. YES. FAILED. I shall explain.

I go to the gym (Because again I am less fit than I used to be in my early twenties) and let the gym instructor have his way with me. Because Shaddo (that’s his nickname) cares about me. And because I want to go back to the old toned me. I believe it’s possible. I have seen it happen with the most strange people who had no hope. And no, I don’t mean that dude who lost a LOT of weight because his girlfriend dumped him… and ended up looking super sexy but still disturbing because seriously what kind of man loses like 30kgs when he was the one cheating in the first place?!

I digress a lot. Get used to it. I wrote a post before where I mentioned Biko told me I can digress as much as I want to because Oyunga told him the same thing. We are creative. Take us as we are (shamelessly comparing myself to the greats- I’m speaking with faith into my writing- if you’re a critic please go away…).

Nehooot after the gym which then meant I had happy endorphins floating within me and out of me I holad at my good friend D’. Called her up and said ‘sup boo’. She was currently sitting at home in the dark courtesy of our dear friend KPLC (Kenya Potential Lighting Company – since it’s been privatized). Talked for a while as I was driving down Waiyaki Way and she said “pop by, I have some wine”. I am pretty gullible and easy to derail when you mention wine so I was like “only if you serenade me by candlelight”.

So I go over and she’s lit these two massive wax candles you can buy in any kiosk in Nairobi. No tea lights for me. I’m not that special *frown* but she did have a huge bottle of merlot *grin*. We sit, sip and bond. Then it ishas. Down to the last drop. 2 glasses of red grape goodness.

She comes up with a solution. 

ONE LAST ONE! 

At that new hotel down the road!

I’m like noooooo…. I have work in the morning. She cajoles, threatens, begs, pleads. I say no and stand my ground like a matador. She charges! I side step. She promises ONE GLASS (Kenyans all know there is no such thing as ONE GLASS) I tell her I have no coin. She says she never mentioned me spending money. She’s saying all the right things but I don’t trust her. She has that look in her eye. That gleam of insincerity that makes me believe this night will not end well if I leave with her. I’m too old young to not enjoy 8 solid hours of rest before work.

She speaks the magic words, “I’ll drive my own car”. This sounds like a good solution. If she drives and decides to derail me I can run away, hop into my car and go home like a good girl. Sounds good.

I agree. Life is too short to be spent fighting what seems like a winning cause and there was WINE involved…

I want to see what this hotel cum serviced apartment cum restaurant with a heated pool has to offer. 

I walk in after her once we get there and see decadence. I kid. It’s ok really… I ask the girl at the reception “Who owns this place? Chinese people?” she says no, “Kikuyus”. I’m not surprised really. Our *cough* taste is well known. 

I wonder what the menu has to offer. I took a picture of the menu but Black berry’s tend to have really shit cameras so I’ll just tell you they spelt Liqueurs “Liquerers”. And misspelt much much more.

We order two glasses of the Drostdhof or Drostd HOF. This guy couldn’t make up his mind so for the red we have the former, for the white the latter. I can see why he was confused…

We imbibe with glee and await our “chef’s special salad”. That took a lifetime coming but was mighty scrumptious…

A random dude asks to join us. His accent screams South African. He mentions his friend would also like to join us as he  takes a seat. His friend is Tanzanian. We have general good times and make merry as we discuss politics here and everywhere… and working on rigs that are owned by Chinese people.

Before I realize it, it’s already 1 am. How did that happen? My friend’s ONE GLASS of wine happened. These young bucks joined us at 12:30… I got home at 2 am. I feel like HELL and had even more HELL nightmares where I spoke in that horrible patois with a Brit accent and I promised some yardie white boy (doesn’t make any sense) that I’d FIX him. And that we could do it during break time (was I in school?!) coz it wouldn’t take more than 10 minutes to pound him to a pulp.

No more drinking OUTSIDE of her house on a week day.

That is the moral of this story.

If ever there was one.

Hilarious

Yooooooo!!!

Remember my mini post about how the HR woman was lavishing the CEO in his office?

Turns out I was onto sumfink!!!!

Gawsh... it's been 4 months!

So methinks it’s time I started blogging again. Yeah yeah yeah, I know. I say this every few months. I tried the whole writing in my diary thing but that got annoying fast. I don’t like writing with a pen anymore… this is faster. And I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m not patient enough and I’m too paranoid to write some shits down where my moms can read it. I just need to move out.

That was my operation linda kui out of the nest for 2012

 but there have been several changes in my life… (cue the song)… least of all which include changing jobs thrice. Today is my last day as Business Manager at a fancy little biz center and I’ll miss it.

I’ll miss the people who work here and their tenacity and drive. I will miss their appreciation for team work and the squabbles… I will miss the people like the chap who just sneezed and said “Uwiiiie Ngai fafa”.

I will miss many things but this is not a post about missings…

It’s not even a post about the new things I will be doing because I’m going in blind, Lord cover me :D

This was a post about the lovely nite I attended yesterday at Daas. Some kind of open mic nite for Kenyan artists.

I went with a *shrug* “I really could care less about this” attitude (and I’ve been having a ‘tude for several reasons- being sick a justifiable one… but I self medicated and now I’m better but that’s not the point coz I went to Taza and had poussin chicken wings but then also had poussin chips and my tummy revolted from all the FAT and I was busy chewing on actal tums. I’ve lost my path. Where was I? Biko Zulu told me (yes, told me... it was in his blog post to me) not to use the dreaded “I digress” statement so I’m allowed to ramble as I please :D God bless him and Oyunga Pala who gave him that advice. I might be lying. Someone great told him that. A Kenyan writer too.

That’s where I was going with this…

Kenyans got TALENT!

I was pleased! VERY! Especially with Sage. I saw her in the Pulse today… I’m not sure what her English name is but she sangs with her two sisters? She don’t needs to tho. (I’ve been reading too much AwesomelyLuvvie )

This GEL can SING, play the piano AND the guitar. *looks around for my special skill*

So I had a conversation with a friend about how she needs to do Blankets and o_____o

She already has. IN fact twice this year. She also used to be Muthoni DQ’s BGV (I’m assuming that’s a Back Ground Vocalist). I feel like a flop. Listening to the likes of Davido and letting our children go to waste here…

Her voice and Bez’s voice should have babies.

Access Kenya’s cable was probably cut again so the internet has been fluctuating. I have however tried to ensure you all got access to links etc for all these great acts and more.

Zuciya Daya/ One Love

Negativity

Day one of blogging

Listening to Michael W. Smith. Because I can hear the Quran has started up again loudly. Because I have to drown it out. Because I feel like I’m cheating when I don’t focus as much on my JC. Because I watch the Muslims in this office praying every lunchtime and remember that I too am supposed to do my part. The obeisance, the piety… it all rings closely to home. It inspires me. It makes me say a little prayer. It makes me remember that there is more to life and just as there is more there is even less. That we need to be committed to living for God. That surely goodness and mercies shall follow me all the days of my life as long as I focus on God.

I have only recently noticed how negative I can be. In a mocking fashion that’s designed to make it less impactful on society; dulling the harshness of the words or the sharp tang on my tongue as I roll out the words. Your tongue is a double edged sword.

 

I am now TRYING to be more positive. Keeping in line with my own motto “If you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all”. It stems from this exercise I read about where you and your partner keep a score board of the positive and negative things you say to one another. I tried it out in my head. I’ve been trying it out subconsciously with people around me and every time I find myself about to say something negative I pause in shock. And I try to justify in my head why I should say the mean thing that’s on the tip of my tongue. Then I either affirm the person I’m talking to or I just stfu. And sit down. Because you should sit down when you’re being punished for your sin. Perverse logic I know. But it takes the bite out of looking at yourself in a negative light because that’s what it forces you to do.

We need people who we are accountable to.

  This cartoon is awkward...

I have found the strangest person to do it with. How to be friends 101 needs to be taught to me again. It’s quite interesting when you click with someone you had absolutely nothing in common with.  Or maybe you do have something in common *shrug*. Friends with someone who you aren’t afraid will judge you for all your quirks… 

Then you wonder if you judge them for theirs and your brain turns to mush.

Writing

In the last few months/weeks I’ve become so “well read”. On the interwebs of course- doing the whole web 2.0 thing. It’s easy enough when you’re interested. For instance, I’ve discovered there’s no actual definition out there for digital marketing. I know because I’ve searched (maybe not hard enough but if Google can fail me, who/what else can I turn to?!)

I’ve read up on search engine optimization and have a fairly moderate understanding of the same.

I’ve also been reading up on doing a cleanse as I apparently need one. What the hell is a cleanse anyway? Well, I discovered the perfect site to help-  now all I need to do is start… *begins procrastination 101 again).

I have read a lot of blog posts by Biko Zulu and laughed outrageously, had the hint of a tear at some… and felt genuine love and affection for people I’ve never met in others. I have itched to write again and this is what I’m going to do… a short story based on a true story. Or base this on Viva Riva? HAHAHAHAHA! Still can’t buh-live @thesapientone hasn’t watched it yet. That movie alone deserves it's own post...

I digress

Well here goes:

I believe the h.r woman has been ravishing the boss in her office past working hours. Every day I sit and watch them laugh on an hourly rotation and her giggle passionately, pushing up her not so ample bosom as he tries to stare it down like a matador waiting for the bull’s attack, or like a dog watching the bone being waved at it from side to side wondering how to get at it before it’s thrown and diminish the LONGING nay yearning it has for that bone.

Sometimes it looks like the tango when they’re together, dancing suggestively around each other on their way from the kitchen when at other times it looks like a rap game in the boardroom with them trading bitter barbs… all to hide the inner lust they have for one another. Like Kenyan politicians pretending to have beef yet behind closed doors they break bread or ugali and laugh at our folly.

I imagine being the fly on the wall watching them accomplish the feat. He, the “main guy” who yells in the “iwillflareyourskinoffyourbodyfornotmeetingyourtargets” tone while she usually pretends to simper in a coy manner. I’m on to them though. I’m sure he’s the submissive, tie me to your coat rail, gag me and punish me for my misdemeanors kinda guy while she flicks her whip (I’m sure it’s right there with all our employee files) and makes him lick her boots.

Because there’s no other reason for me to think anything else or less. Because this office bores me. Because they probably go home every day and have what I’d term platonic sex with their significant others in the same position every day.

Or maybe it’s because I day dream of doing the same thing to him every day. Every time he walks past I stare at his ass in those super tight pants and imagine the things I would do to him given the chance because he’s the boss. 

Look at that, they just did it again! 

He just turned and tried to show off his rippling abs through his YSL shirt! I know because I’ve sniffed his shirt, his tie and sat on his chair wondering how it would feel to have his head between my legs as I conduct short meetings…

But he doesn’t even know I’m there because I’m just the hired help who cleans his office every time he goes home to his wife at night and I’m left to fantasize…