I had it all worked out...

Life as we know it

Of late, many things have been bringing home to me, the fact that the world will not wait. It will not wait while I mourn, while I make up my mind, while I drag my feet. It just has so much going, it can't afford to stop for puny little me to get back on board. This realization upsets me. Mildly.

Mostly, it motivates me to move, reminding me that now's the time to live, laugh, love and everything else I've been putting on the back burner. That said, I don't know any book quotes but am here to tell you that books are the ish. Why? Ama break it down for you. I know some one who's twice my age. The other day, I think out of desperation, she let rip about the state of her relationship with the love of her life. She wasn't happy and she had totally run out of ideas on how to make it work. Now, any one who knows me, knows that I've never been in anything that can even loosely be termed as a relationship. But she didn't know me that well so she had no misgivings about telling me. Anti you know how I be so mature and what not.

So here she is, telling me all these things and all I can do is tell her about the things I've read. So our conversation went something like this;

Her: I just wish he'd call me for no good reason. Just once!

Me: I read somewhere that men are not psychics. You have to tell them what you want.

Her: But why can't he do, for me, the things I do for him?!

Me: A guy called Steve Harvey wrote a book that said.....

Her: He doesn't even tell me his problems

Me: In Men are from Mars...

... and so on. Somehow, she stuck around for an entire hour and left with a new, improved and standardized action plan. And I felt powerful. So believe me when I say, Books are the ish.

Ah. Found it. Here goes...

"In the case of good books, the point is not to see how many of them you can get through, but how many can get through to you."

-Mortimer Adler (author)

BE SEEING YOU

To think
I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard
Not to cry
And as we say
our long good byes
I almost do

- Run (Snow Patrol)

Hi Luv,

It feels wrong writing this. Never thought I'd see the day. I'm trying to accept the fact that you are not here, that the next time I go by your house, I won't be cueing up to make you smile. I'm working on using the right tense whenever I speak about you. It hurts afresh every single time.

You don't know this but I've really been looking forward to you. I couldn't wait to get to know you, find out how your mind works. I'd already pictured me imparting nonsense packaged as wisdom. I saw you getting it.

Keira, it might seem a bit strange but I guess its time I admitted I had you investigated. Yeah, babe, I did my homework on you using your birth dates. I couldn't discover your past, you didn't have much of one, but boy, did I catch a glimpse of your future. I found out what you would be like when you were all grown up. The stuff I found out said you were peaceful and affectionate. It promised you'd be a little tyrant, always aiming for perfection. It said you valued solitude because you were an analytical thinker of the first order.

You have no idea how much I was looking forward. I know that regardless of whether you'd turned out like my notes said or different, you'd have been a marvel because you've got the world's coolest mum and dad. Your numerous aunties and uncles and grannies aren't half bad either.

Everyone was shaken when they heard the news. Especially your grannies who'd seen you once or not at all. We forgot that life is fleeting, you seemed so solid, it never occurred to us that you could leave so... so fast. This might take a while to heal because your absence has left a gaping hole in our existences. But we are glad we got to meet you, if only for a month and a half.

You're beautiful, Keira and I don't have to say it, coz you already know,but we'll miss you.

I love you

Your aunt

CONCUSSION

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind, up in here, up in here

Y'all gon' make me go all out, up in here, up in here

Y'all gon' make me act a fool, up in here, up in here

Y'all gon' make me lose my cool, up in here, up in here

DMX

Concussion: A traumatic injury to tissues of the body such as the brain as a result of a violent blow, shaking, or spinning.

To be concussed: To experience the above tragedy.

When I was little, a concussion meant running head first into a wall and seeing stars.

A bit later, it changed to falling of those wooden beams that they put up for renovations sake and landing on your back- and on your head (and having to crawl into the house because everything was paining and you thought something in your spine area might have come loose).

First forward, 23 years, many months and some days later, concussion's got a new meaning: sitting in a taxi on a Kampala road.

The amount of times I banged my head against the side of the taxi just yesterday was enough to make me keep checking for an indentation in the side of my skull. Where the hell do those drivers look as they drive. Granted, there's more pothole than road, don't they know about gentle navigations and what not?

The next time I hit my head, am applying for disabled status, I'm a step away from vegitabalism.

On a more pleasant note: I'm finally going to watch The Proposal. Yipeee!

WHEN HUNGRY, T'IS GOOD TO EAT

Just picture a great big steak,

fried, roasted or stewed.

Oh, food,

Wonderful food,

Marvellous food,

Glorious food.

- Oliver!

That aside, You haven't eaten well untill you've eaten a meal that you made from your own sweat and blood (though I can't quite remember bleeding). Still, last Saturday was spent trying to eat. There we were minding our own business, planning to go out and eat when one of those neighbours who only live inside your TV showed up with a meal; Pasta sauce. His instructions were simple; Warm it.

As I mentally called dibs on the bigger plate, my host calmly informed me that the house was void of cookers or warmers of any sort. We had nothing to cook the spaghetti on and no way to warm the sauce. Bugger! He however quickly reassured me that the building next door had a surround- sound see smell kitchen. So we braced ourselves for the cold, carried our sauce and spaghetti and headed out to find a cooker or try dieing.

On arrival, it was clear things weren't about to get better. No one was home. The only silver lining in the whole business was a tiny puppy called Pombe who'd been locked in but was still content to wag himself from behind the glass door and generally make me wish I could carry him. After Pombe found more interesting things to do than make eyes at us, he went into hiding.

After that, the idea of a trip into town, didn't have the same appeal as before, considering I'd beeen making eyes at the sauce since it and I first met. But there didn't seem to be any other option. But I didn't want to move!!! Sensing my distress, G. I Jane (my alter ego) snapped into action. She made her way back into the kitchen, this time on assignment: Find cooking impliment or die trying. It worked. She , I mean, I found a kerosene stove covered in dust but full of Kerosene. To all the environmentalists out there, I know I was bad, but I was hungry.

Inspite of my renewed faith in God, providence and other mystical things that just are, I wondered what sadistic streak had made Host make us walk out into the uncertain rain, mud and cold.

me: Hey, why didn't we just use the stove?
Host: Stove, what stove? We don't have a stove.
me (pointing): This one right here.
Host: That's a stove(In genuine disbelief)? I thought it was a lantern!

LOL

Later, after the perceived mode of operation had been explained, I could understand how a mistake could have been made. It didn't stop me from laughing at Host though. So finally, we made pasta, ate pasta, digested pasta and couldn't move for pasta. Something about everything we'd been through to eat pasta made that meal the most delicious thing I'd eaten all year. I couldn't remember anything tasting so good!

TRUE COLOURS

I'm a hazard to myself

Don't let me get me, I'm my own worst enemy

It's bad when you annoy your self, so irritating

Don't wanna be my friend no more

I wanna be someone else

-Pink

Last weekend was wicked; we partied till 7 in the morning and long after the die hards had blacked out, I was going strong, on pure adrenaline! I had a ball (as usual, for all the wrong reasons) and didn't touch a drop of alcohol.

The next evening, I woke up energized. The world was beautiful, I mean, it had songs like Potential in it and MunaUganda and Kwata kwata. I can't remember which bazungu songs they played, for some reason. Things were going well untill I tried to stretch my mind to go over the details. It wouldn't go. I shouldn't have pushed; In a rush,specific events of the night before assailed me making me moan like I'd lost the love of my life. Even now, right now, I'm fighting a groan that begs expression. Why, you ask? Because, even if I've always known that I don't need alcohol to get onto a table and gyrate for all I'm worth, even I hadn't believed myself capable of some things. Now don't go calling the cops, every thing was legit, it just made me scared of and for myself, that's all.


Alcohol makes men bold and women loose, right? Uhm, could we have the definition of loose please? And does it become null and void if you haven't been drinking?

Lightening and Thunder

Yeah, I still need to get me some of that.

I'm saddened by permanent departures. A friend's going back home and chances of ever seeing him again are minimal. Its sad. And there's all those promises you make in these situations; to write, send pics, spend each day on skype but there's something about the distance that makes you lose the bond that proximity gave you. Something about forgetting what their smile looks like and how they had a silly dance move that they'd perfected (and how they used to sprawl on the grass when under the influence). I wish he didn't have to go.Oh well, we meet to part, part to meet and what not.

Eh, good news: Great things are coming my way. Now, don't think ill of me but I was googling, as I'm wont to do when... no, I remember how it started, I think I was googling the conspiracy theories on why MJ turned white when I came across this article that said he had a '2 line path'. My mind lurched onto this and by the end of the day, I'd discovered numerology and the fact that mine is a 5 line path.

Now, while there, on the numerology website, I glanced to the side and there was a psychic beckoning me. Yes, I gave in and she told me many nice things but couldn't give me details till I paid her some money. Kati, according to her, I'm on the brink of a life changing expirience so if I give her money, she'll tell me what to look out for, if I don't, nga it passes me by. Now what are the odds that I'm sending my ka hard earned cash to Carlifonia?

In other news: Alcohol makes men bold (and women loose but that's not the point).

I HOPE YOU DANCE

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder
Have your fill to eat but always keep that hunger
May you never take a single breath for granted
God forbid, love ever leaves you empty handed

I hope you'll still feel small when you stand besides the ocean (see lake)
whenever one door closes I hope one more opens
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance

I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance
Never settle for the path of least resistance
living means taking chances that are worth taking
Love, it might be a mistake, but it's worth making

Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter
When you come close to selling out, reconsider
Give the heavens more than just a passing glance
and when you get the choice to sit it out or dance

I hope you dance
- song by Lee Anne Womack

PS: Yes, I know its corny but its deep. Admit it or die trying. If I wasn't bored from miming it to the mirror,humming it day in and day out for 2 weeks... and, okay, carrying it in my wallet, I'd hunt down the audio wossname in blogger and launch my first- single- by- another- person.

PPS: Streetsider, don't hate, its okay to be in touch with your feminine side. Hallmark of a tru brother

PPPS: It's a 10 year old song so what does it mean that it has come to me at this moment in time. The universe must be speaking to me!

At an impasse

I want to be a transformer when I grow up!

Jesus, I need to get in touch with the sensitive me. Invite her to move in. I think I hurt some one yesterday. This business of avoiding depth is not as user friendly as I thought it would be. Yeah, my mantra this morning is, " I'm a shit, I'm a shit, I'm a shit". I throw in some token, " No, you aren't-s " But the prevailing opinion is thus.

Was looking through my journal last night and it seems that I know what to do, I'm just not doing it! It's right there, at the top of every page: Slow down, slow down, slow down... But am afraid to slow down. Whirl wind works for me, doesn't it?

Right. I'm...slowing...down.

PS: I need a new self hep book. Can anyone hook a sister up with The Secret?

BLOGGER WHISPHERS

1. Mr. Streetsider sir, there's a bullet somewhere with your name on it.
2. Really digging this mass writing biz. Shall we publish when we're done?
3. Here goes nothing.

The instructions:
1. You take the story, and give it your own unique twist.
2. Link back to the blogger who whispered to you and or include their name in your post.
3. Whisper the new challenge into the ear of a blogger of your picking.
4. Let them know by leaving a comment at theirs.
Pass it on with the instructions!

Maama Jacob woke with a start. Her body and bed were drenched in a cold sweat and ice clamped around her heart. It didn't help that even with her eyes wide open, swinging from one corner of the room to another, she could see nothing. The darkness was total. She took a deep breath and fought the irrational urge to lunge for her bedside torch.

She'd had a horrible, horrible dream. Of that she was sure. What she couldn't remember was what it had been about. Something about a luminous computer screen. But that was stupid. The only computer she'd ever had- which, at that moment was sitting under a pile of old stuff in the store- hadn't worked in eons! What could have been so frightening about a mere computer?

'Return of the killer Mackintosh', she mocked herself, trying to still her vibrating heart. No, that wasn't nearly scary enough. 'Night of the living PC'. That felt okay but surely she could do better. And then she had it. Sounding a drum roll under her breath, she said as loud and as clearly as she could, 'THE MOUSE'. That elicited a chuckle from her. Suddenly, she felt worlds better. She decided to go check on her babies since she was up.


Ellyn made her way carefully through the dark corridor. She knew every turn and potential trip point in her head. For her, switching on the light, after that nasty dream, would have meant she was afraid. She wasn't. When she reached the room Jacob shared with his little sister, she switched on the light . Standing by the door, watching them sleep, she was reminded of how easily she could have had no one to take care of. Jacob, she'd expected. She didn't regret what she'd had to go through, even as her mind shied away from the string of events that had brought him to her. Sarah on the other hand, was a total miracle, she was born a year and a half after Jacob. She'd been totally unexpected. Maybe...maybe if she'd known that all she had to do was wait a little longer, she wouldn't have... but that was all in the past now. Best to look ahead.

Sarah slept peacefully: on her tummy with her palm cupping her sweet apple-round cheek. She was a beautiful child. So beautiful that sometimes, it hurt looking at her. She'd inherited her daddy's long face but had put her own little label on it with her shapely nose, full lips and long lashes. She'd be a beauty one day. Problem was, she knew it and used it against any and everyone.

Jacob,on the other hand, slept with nary a trace of softness. He lay on his back with his bed covers tossed to his waist. He seemed rather ...stiff. For the first time, Ellyn noticed his arms taut at his sides, one little clenched fist visible. He seemed to be resisting something in his sleep. The idea worried her and she rushed to sit at his bedside. She stroked his face and his little fist, all the while whispering promises of comfort and safety, telling him how much he meant to her. She hoped he could hear her from wherever he was. Her dear, dear boy.

Maama Jacob. That's what they called her but she han't felt like his maama in ages. They used to be joined at the hip when he was smaller but lately, well, they weren't. Was it right for a boy so little not to need his mummy? These days, the only person he seemed to open up to was Hez, and even that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Hez the grouch. She smiled at the thought. He spent so much energy acting mean, no wonder he always looked tired and irritable. It made sense that he didn't want anyone's pity but surely he could discourage it in another way. He did such a good job of playing ogre that almost everyone half feared, half revered him. But with Jacob it was different; he actually seemed to love the boy! If she had no other proof of Hez's goodness, that alone was enough.

She was brought out of her reverie by a little hand clutching hers. When she looked down, Jacob was awake, silently enduring her mindless caress. She watched, startled, as twin tears seeped out of the corners of his eye's . Holding her palm to his cheek, he whispered brokenly,

" I won't let me hurt you mummy. Promise."

Okay. that's all folks. I'm whispering this in Esquire's ear.

Amorphophallus Titanum

That right there is someone's idea of a scientific name. I'm either getting smarter or the namers are getting dumber. I remember when I could hardly pronounce the things: Enchilada Arachnida detrathopalas. That one's made up but it used to be that bad.

Amophallus Titanum'sa good, solid name! This flower's real name is "corpse flower".Yep, there are flowers out there named after dead bodies. I hear it's the biggest flower in the world. Wonder why they called it a corpse flower? No, it does not look like a spread out dead body at night... No, it doesn't grow on abandoned bodies, or graves, or crypts or whatever you're thinking.

Here's a hint: It emits chemicals with names like Cadavarene and putricine.

THE BUDGET 2009

Budget Breakfast, Hotel Africana

8:30 am

Points to note; a) ****is not going to make my life easy. I need to resign myself to that little fact... What's with the Honourable Minister making rounds... Didn't catch his name but I shook his hand. Yey.

7- 7:50: Budget Breakfast
7:50- 7:55: Introductory remarks by Secretary
7:55- 8:00 Welcome remarks, President
8:35-9:00: Tax implications of the budget
9:00...

I think I don't like****. It's something to do with the evil grins. Yeah, the breakfast is going very well, thanks. It's going so well, I want to leave.

I don't feel bad, I just feel ill used. But here, I can take all the calls I want. So maybe it's not that bad & God knows, if I was doing this by myself, I'd have this thing down in one. I hate the budget breakfast.

That looks like a sturdy shoe. A bit scary but none the less, firm on the ground. I'm sitting near a dustbin. It looks like a small pillar but I know it's a dustbin. WBS reporter. Crass. I'd say he's ill bred but there's something bout his face that suggests deliberate impunity.

Shouldn't be complaining. The part I was looking forward to went really well. Breakfast. But I'm mad that I have to be on the registration detail when the love of my life is sitting at a table facing where I was sitting!!!! Most gorgeous accountant I ever laid my eyes on. Reeked of power (shiver, shiver). I could have made eyes at him all morning but check were I am, aargh!!!!

Woosa

Wish I'd worn jeans. I'd never have unleashed my power skirt if I'd known I was gon' be a bouncer.

I see pretty shoes but I ain't getting into that. My prettiest pair hurt my feet the most. I look at them and I think to myself, corns, chilblains, bunions, and other ailments we learnt in Home Econ. Then I wear them. Who remembers the kid who said they knew Elbow Grease and then proceeded to describe what kind of tin it came in and what it looked like. Lol. That was funny.
Anyway, the highlight of this situation is that I don't have to take any bleedin' notes. I bet *** never thought of that. Huh!

Eh-eh, some ki man just came at me with a vague smile and stole my pen! Smile. People are looking.

PR's good. Its what I would describe as a smile-bang affair; smile in public, bang my head against the wall (till I bleed) in private.We aim to please.

See you at next year's breakfat. I mean breakfast.

CHOOSE THOUGHT OVER EXCITEMENT

Some one said something that I can't get out of my head. He said, " It's high time we exchanged excitement for thought" . He said it to a crowd but I felt like he was talking about me. Hi, my name's Elle and I'm an adrenaline junkie. I've been clean 12 hours (not by choice).

I shared the idea with a friend, later that night;

me: Brother had a point. Maybe thought should replace excitement in my life.

Her: Really?

Me: Yeah, it would save me quite a bit of unnecessary drama. Then in a moment of rebellion: but thought never put food on the table!

Her (all excited now): True, true, and yet. . . excitement could put you on the table.

That clinched the deal. We're sticking with excitement.

Unemployment S2,E1

4:30 am
So... the job thingee didn't go as planned (in my dreams). I'm back on the streets, nah, that's a lie, am back in my bed. Dreaming, scheming and planning. The other day, I slept through all the garbage guy's efforts to take out our trash. See, with the coming of a job came common sense; I'd learnt to take the trash out the night before. Exit job, exit sense. But no sweat. It gave me something to laugh about. Back in the day, I used to sleep through his knocking on the door and then fall out of bed on his last attempt. By the time, i'd reach, his truck would be pulling away from the gate.No energy to shout, I'd cook up some excuses (like he never showed) for sisters dearest or bribe the gate guy to go chuck it somewhere if I'd missed entirely too many opportunities.

It was so bad, i used to dream about the rubbish man, for crying out loud.I once dreamt that I was married to this rich guy who insisted that we have a butler. When I heard the knock (i guess i was subconciously waiting for it), I asked Stanley, our butler, to take out the trash. Yeah, you guessed it; Stanely disobeyed a direct order.

Enough about the Rubbish Diaries. The only reason I'm awake at this hour is coz am in a strange house, strange bed with strange creatures that keep making noises every time I get comfortable. I thought house sitting was all good but I'm rethinking it.

I don't do idle well. My favourite pass time these days is pacing. Exhausting business. I'm trying to psyche myself to carpe diem or die trying but I seem to be doing more of the latter (trying to die) than anything else. I need a plan.

Eh, and I've just finished Steve Harvey's Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man. Armed with this useful information, I'm going out into the world and demanding that the men I date get my bill (no more splitting coz I don't want you to think am after your dimes. Steve says I'm powerful and shouldn't give a bleep what you think), open my doors and pull out my chairs. I think it also said something about massaging my feet but I have to get back to y'all on that one.

Mind your own hair (or try dying)

My contract ends tomorrow. I'm a bit dis interested about whether they'll retain me or not. I love this job and all, would give anything to stay but there's nothing I can do today to change the verdict. I shall be weighed, measured and NOT found wanting (I hope). Besides, change excites me, at least for the first day or 2.

In the mean time, I'm getting 'serious' calls from unbelievable relations;

Her: " Rosette, I've decided that we should cut off your dreadlocks"

ME: 'what?'

Her: "Yah, I 've seen a new style for us"

Me: 'Seriously? '

Seriously! Where do people get the nerve. Meanwhile, I wasn't allowed to snigger into the phone coz she was at her most serious. No playing. So we are not talking till "I've thought seriously about it". I guess am going to be a mute were some people are concerned.

I'm in suspended disbelief and I aim to forget we had this conversation. I'm upset at her and the entire business. Not sure why. Maybe its coz I don't sit around contemplating what I think my siblings should do with their hair.Seriously.I'm even getting a tummy ache and early frown lines. Bet it's her fault!

NB: It occurs to me she means well but I'm pissed anyway.

From the hills of Mt. Elgon to Bujumbura

Geez, getting into my blog is as irritating as a bit of Kikati that won't come out. Anyway,, Everything I said about boyfriends, marriage and elopment, I take back. I want in. It's not a boring existance after all. It's a grand epic! Twists, turns, intrigue... and ..cut my tongue off....romance. There I said it. Will take some getting used to but I'll learn to stomach it.

I went for my brother's intro yesterday and left changed. It ought to wear off any minute now but while it lasts, ama preach about love and what not. Uhm-uhm (clearance of throat). Love is a good feeling, man kind gotta keep it flowing... I know, not very original but man, yesterday was a tear jerker; I'm sitting there in the Bako tent looking pleasant but unattainable, you know how we do.

Happy to be abit bored, not understanding a word of the Kirundi flowing between tents, generally minding my own business, when Nicole walks in. Man, radiance has a name. Her name. and then David goes to meet her and her brother mock- blocks him. They have a ka easy tete a tete and he lets him come closer. Nicky began to cry!!!! If that wasn't the sweetest thing. And then they sat together wa wa wa.

Next point of contention came when he got down on one knee in a spontaneous move that no one saw coming, and asked her to marry him. Water works once again. This time I joined in coz it was getting out of hand. Really sweet. And the night before, when I saw the wedding rings and her engagement ring, yeah, they got me, those silly bands of metal!

So... after all is said and done... How does one go about having all that without actually going into it. Do I do a run- away bride immediately after the ceremony or what?

PS: To my utter horror, my greatest fear is NOT failure, it's worse, much worse.

NEWS FROM BEYOND

No, am not dead. Alive and well actually. I'm dedicating my days to perfecting my telephone approach. Smiling into the phone's never been my problem. It's sounding mature that's hustling me. In my s6 vacation, I wanted to thank an auntie for letting me work with her. I got chided for my efforts. Thinking back, it makes me shake my head in disbelief but anyway, here's a rendition

me: Hello? Hi Auntie

Auntie: Hallo (in a sing song voice which if I'd thought about it would have struck me as being used on toddlers and babies)

me: Auntie, it's Rosette. I wanted to...

Auntie: Why have you stolen mummy's phone?

me: What?

Auntie: Put mummy on the line so I can talk to her.

Let's just say I haven't called her since.

THE WAITING GAME

The plan is to get comfy in this skin. I was destined from the start to wait for things. However much I rant and rave,nature is determined to teach me patience. Atleast that's what I keep telling my self.

So... I got me a job. Been making regular visits since November last year. I come in early, at times leave late. I transact things am sure are coming back later to haunt me and I like what am doing. Funny thing is, am not hired. Yeah, you heard right; the contract's been ready for ever but the pips in charge of signing it keep dieing, falling sick or plain having a bad day. So am waiting.

In the mean time, i swing around in my chair and giggle in near hysteria at the fact that no ones clued in to the fact that i might not be 'all there'. I'm working my corporate persona. sooner or later, these moments of panic I have when no one's there are going to stop.