Rumours of a weekend gone by

I spent a total of 31 hours in a three session meeting between Thursday morning and Saturday evening including a 15 hour session on Friday. As if that's not enough, I had to get up at 1 am Sunday morning after sleeping at 11pm so that I could change sleeping positions by 714 km. So pardon me for not using any euphemisms when you ask me how my weekend was. I didn't have a bloody weekend.

Today I'm suffering from stretch marks. When I'm taken to the limits of biological and mental tolerance for a few days, getting back to normal schedule leaves me with that "bent forward" inertial feeling. Fortunately, this week is a two day week for me. Actually that's all that's keeping me going.

So my business trip had no interesting highlights. From the last post and the first paragraph of this post, there wasn't time to do much else. However, I must say I loved the service at the restaurants in Kigali - at least the three I went to. Not because the service is that good, but because of the aesthetic appeal of the people delivering that service. I kept wishing I was with my usual weekend crew - like a village dog, I have no guts on my own, not in that kind of setting anyway.

Anyway, on my way back I decide to save some coin by buying some duty free items and my, my, my. Behind that counter was such stunning beauty. And no, not the merchandise. I thought of so many Machiavellian thing I could do but alas, cameras and human rights. The light-hearted fun chatter as I shopped didn't help.

That's it for my trip.

And yes, like you I honestly thought that after not posting for so long and after being in such a different environment, I'd have something more to write about. Today I will sleep with a smile knowing the disappointment is not peculiar to me.

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Blogging on the go

While having breakfast today morning, I started thinking about the difference in writing style that is responsible for the slow pace in which my current assignment is moving.

Imagine 6 people among them 3 lawyers, one chief operations officer of a bank and a financial analyst sitting round a table reviewing a 100 page document.

Enter day 2 of phase 2 of drafting and I'm inspired to describe something to you.

Its maroon in colour and is 3.5 feet high. It measures 1.5 feet in diameter at the top tapering to one foot at the bottom. It has several zigzag lines running from top to bottom separated by an uneven half a foot. Four bamboo sticks protrude from its open top and we can therefore assume that it contains some substance such as soil in which the bamboo sticks stand. The bamboo stick vary from 1 to 2 inches in diameter and 4 to 6 feet in visible height.

Painted an accurate picture? maybe, maybe not. Differences in writing style, perception priorities and prejudices make for different sentence structures and choice of words. Now imagine the different views 6 professionals can have when it comes to a 100 page document meant for public consumption.

Enter freaking day 2.

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Of Exes & Whys

I almost did not publish this. I thought it was too personal. But then again, what am i afraid of? So why the heck not? And can't I always remove it?

I've had two relationships in my life, both very fulfilling, and both building a special bond that subsists to the present. Now, I don't date readily, commitment to something as devious and varied as a human being requires a complex mental/psychological process for which most 'suitors' are disqualified permanently ab initio. 

Unlike most people, the idea of emotional commitment is not a belated product of pubescent chemical imbalances but a premeditated concept which I have often considered from pre-adolescent times - ever since becoming self-aware, I dare say. I won't go into the details of how I was brought up with a very biased and adverse opinion on emotions and their expression but I believe that shaped my premature cynicism for 'love'. 

Anyway, the point is, I have always 'known' (read believed) that I'd always be alone. Even in my innocence I knew the world would have a tough time moulding someone to satisfy me enough to extract some level of conscious emotional commitment. So I've always 'known' I'd be alone and the concept of loneliness which so apparently plagues a significant portion people in their 20s (actually the age qualifier is an illusion) is  virtually non-existent in me. I welcome the idea, but I do not suffer from it's lack of fruition. I therefore find the lack of entanglement acceptable, maybe even desirable. 

Back to the point. Those two individuals are exceptional for having broken the norm, but I'm wiser, and I know if (a large if) there is a next one, one or two things will be different. Going back in time I am not sure I'd make the same choices but I'm definitely the richer for having met them. They say better to have loved and lost. 

Unlike most people I know, I have no legacy issues with my exes, I do not find fault in our relationship or in them and I cherish the post break-up moments (not sex, I've never had break-up sex). Of course the usual fights and disagreements are present, both during and after. We get along for this reason - there's a reason why we dated. Am I hangovered? Not really, because in the same breathe I'll say - there's a reason it ended. 

What's the secret to not having issues with your exes? I'm not sure, but I think knowing what you want before dating, and keeping in mind that there's a reason you broke up is a start. Don't rush into a commitment, get to know what it's all about, don't compromise on your standards. But I think above all, don't date someone you don't respect as an equal.....no matter how good the other stuff is.

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Angel behind ancient demon mask

One key common feature of the middle class is that they are a paycheck away from the slums. Talk about reality 101. Also explains the war dreams I've been having of late. And this in the face of recent comments from a misguided few who fell for the not-so-convincing illusion of wealth. People, we need focus, we need ambition.

We grow up with fairy tale notions, even the best of us. I can still remember back in the "good old innocent naive days" when I would boldly proclaim that loans are for the weak-willed with a pompous more-disciplined-than-thou smug look of my (then more appealing) face. I've since learnt a few.

I once inquired how my parents (read mother) brought us up with a fraction of my first salary. I attributed it to discipline and self sacrifice anchored on a mothers love. True, there's an element of that, but that's not how they did it. You know how they did it? Y'all who don't come from humble backgrounds won't know this. They did it by paying that so called impatience tax which I so fervently condemned in my ignorance.

I should have started by explaining what I mean by impatience tax. You see, lending institutions do not give you money you don't have, they give you money you don't have yet. You actually can collect all the money you borrow just by waiting a significant fraction of the time it will take you to repay. So, since the world might end soon, you take your future income now and pay impatience tax at the prevailing rates and directly proportional to the length of time you were unwilling to wait.

For now let's not mention that saving requires a bit more than the average human is able (read willing) to endure. Let's not even mention the psychic nature of financial emergencies that seem to know when you've accumulated enough to afford them. And let's not mention that personal use asset that grows more resplendent pro rata to the growth of your savings.

The point is, if you fit the [humble background but educated] bill, your parents borrowed. Heavily, repeatedly, mercilessly, religiously even. So that's how they educated that bunch of misfits, and built that (mansion) of a house and got all those things that don't seem to matter to young people nowadays. Where's that freaking loan application form? PS, is a Subaru B4 a personal use or investment asset? And does how fast I drive it change the asset class? No? Oh well.

I have three more years in my revised timetable to do this right.

Random though - I met someone a few years my senior and he seems to be doing well as far as oratory skills go. C'mon balls, we have work to do.

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At worlds end - the less profound

I blog absent epiphany. I've had cumulatively over 24 hours of sleep this weekend, hence my feeling of success. And yesterday when the world was meant to end I wenT to bed early with a glass of red wine and assortment of chocolates having proclaimed that the Lord would wake me up when it was time.

The world ended yet again, and left us lesser gods with the aftertaste of disillusionment. I don't question my faith but I always wonder what can drive a man so far from logic, the answer eluding me from it's sheer simplicity. Humanity is not logical, and our decisions are rarely based on the dictates of reason but rather the urges of our mortal selves. Even those of us who would wish to be bound by the parameters of mathematical perfection constantly defy our better judgement by conforming to innate barbaric urges. To be human is to be flawed, and to aspire (or even assume) to be without flaw is the ultimate delusion of grandeur.

It would appear that epiphany follows the first keystroke, rather than precede it.

I realized the common thread that goes through all the characters in the Selected Seven, they seem, for the large part, to traverse the tenets of emotion to which we are all so invariably bound. Have I made sense? Perhaps not.

Random thought, - those stick on hooks, you know the kind you get from a supermarket and stick on your kitchen or bathroom wall to hold a hand towel or suchlike? Yes, that one you're picturing. That's it. That's all. That's the random thought. Random, huh?

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The Selected Seven

I've changed the url for the blog, but I guess being here makes this statement irrelevant. Why? Coz I just realized that artcdroid.blogspot is too close to artdroid.blogspot which is owned by a "hairy asian" guy (so I was told).

I promised I would not be posting today. And yet here I am. But what if I post this tomorrow? Then I won't have lied and I'll still have posted. No, seriously, this shit could be puzzling archaeologists  in the distant future so I might as well give them hell.

I am an avid consumer of media, especially that of the entertaining sort. In fact, I have such an appetite that I outsourced the decision making process for the content that I consume at times. "stumbleupon" saves me having to think about the next site to visit, it was designed with a lazy browsers appetite in mind. I digress.

Sheldon Cooper - this guy is brilliant to the point of being an idiot. But he rubs us all the right way coz we know this heart is in the right place.....if he has one.
I like that thing he was doing in the picture, if it could work, the world's population would be at a manageable level.






Stewie Griffin - another genius, master of wit and satire. We know his heart is in the wrong place for the right reasons. The world is a cruel place and deserves Stewie as president.






King Julian - definitely not a genius but by far the most impressive character ever. Can you be more vain? I can't. No, seriously, this guy goes over the top because he defies evidence, his conclusions are a rebuttal of logic itself. "After much deep and profound brain things inside my head....." I mean, brain things?




Samurai X - for me he is the epitome of mastering your emotions without embracing the dark side. I think he's cooler than King Julian but I'm still going to name my first (proper) car after Julian. He's actually a bloody role model. He even uses his sword reluctantly (note for the wise).






Yoda - want to be like him, don't we all? Short, he may be, but underestimate him, you should not. A standing ovation in the theatre, I led, when fought Dooku, he did. Agree with you, I do. No Darth Yoda, there was.






Viktor - Now there's a vampire, not those gay pretty-boys of Twilight and Vampire Diaries. I think the only other vampires who left a mark are Alexander Lucard (he was my first) and Lestat (his wikipedia thingy). The thing with Victor is the way he dramatizes his speech. You can see the passion in his expression, and its not something I have adequate command of English to describe. If he didn't have such a common name, King Julian would have competition.









The Architect - I came. Pardon my language. I heard him for the first time and I had an orgasm - intellectual orgasm. I didn't understand everything he said the first time and it wasn't a matter of accent. When I grow up, I want to speak like this guy.



Yeah, and that's about it. If I've forgotten anyone, they can't be that good, can they?

Random thought - he's here, he's dear. Later Shree - isn't that a weird name.

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Sankara

I've always heard about the hotel but never really bothered to go there. I don't think I have enough investment class assets to justify the opulence suggested by frequenting Sankara and it's contemporaries. That would be irresponsible and a breach of my fiduciary duty to my future self. But I've heard of it. So when a client called me yesterday asking me to attend a high profile meeting with his key business partner, I wasn't clueless about the venue.

So today morning I made my way there for a breakfast meeting. Of course I confirmed from google maps how to get there and confirmed from someone who'd been there whether they have parking - not sure why I asked the latter, it would not be so famed if it didn't.

My thoughts on the place - not bad. Space is the ultimate luxury and they have it. It didn't strike me as any better that other hotels but then again I'm not a hotel critic. My stints in hotels is always brief and cursory. In fact, I just saw the meeting room, not enough to judge a place by.

What I found, to my delight, to be exceptional is the customers care/hospitality of the people. At the gate the guard asked very politely if he could inspect the car. They normally don't ask, even the polite ones just courteously inform you that they have to. I felt so respected. I'd have tipped him. Then before getting to the parking 4 guards gave me very informative signals on where to go (though it was mighty obvious). And then from the parking I was escorted to the lift. Damn.

Now don't get me wrong, I know people who are used to taking care of the rich and famous eventually perfect the art. But even more readily, they learn to tell the rich and famous from those who fake it till they make it. I think it's fairly clear from my car and my gait that I'm not the former. But nevertheless I got such excellent treatment.

I was right on time, just how I like it. The client was already there along with his crew and one of the top guys from the business partner. A few handshakes and moving on swiftly. I asked for a cup of coffee on sitting down and it was promptly brought. The shocker is that it was refilled without my permission. Not bad service at all. But at this level maybe they were in overkill mode due to the high profile nature of the business partner. So it's the guards hospitality that stood out.

Sankara. I may be back.

Today morning was busy. Even after the meeting I wasn't able to catch a break till past noon. I'm the type who can't sit for two hours without starting to fidget, so for me to "realize" it's past noon and I haven't taken a break meant that I was busy. I collated all my "breaks" into the afternoon. That nap after lunch was simply blissful.

I'd have retired early but the boss saw me prepping to leave at 4:30 and called me into a "2 minute" meeting with a client which actually took 40 minutes - the concept of elasticity of time. And no, it's not that it felt like 40 minutes, it was actually 40 minutes. But an issue had to be sorted out. All because people took a document which I'd clearly marked "draft for discussion" and removed the watermark and proceeded to sign. Sigh.

Random thought - Someone once told me they would like to know what I do every single waking moment. Talk about TMI and the delusions of those in love. Yes, I said it. But touching nonetheless.

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Classes of men - the lost coin

Definitely not an exhaustive list:


Daffodils - they are resplendent in gayness. a severe lack of masculinity, love for colour, sense of fashion, and no concerns with negative public perception of their lifestyle. They are bold. They have self esteem and are frequently choosy but they easily fall prey to basic psychological tactics. They are also emotional. Being gay is a lifestyle. The pictures they have on facebook is their 'fabulous' selves and 'hot' celebrities.


Career gays - these ones are hardly colourful. They would like to be. Their chief trait is that they have found the totality of their identity and life purpose in their sexuality. Being gay is what they do, who they are and how they live. Its not a trait, a sexuality or a lifestyle. The don't fall prey to psychology, that's beyond them. They frequently lack self esteem but not to the point of not taking insult at patent abuse. The pictures they have on facebook are of naked men.


Professional gays - sssshhhhh, not so loud. They live and grow and learn and work like any other person. In fact, they tend to be ambitious. But they don't love like 'normal', they are gay. It's a sexuality to them, a trait. Nothing more. Frequently on the DL, frequently pressured by society to marry and have kids, frequently marry and have kids, frequently butch and manly, and are most likely to have issues with their sexuality. The pictures they have on facebook are of their normal social lives.


Gay proper - this is a balanced group. They live their life but are definitely not ashamed of who (what?) they are. A careful eye will not be deceived. The pictures they have are dynamic, ranging from their gay selves to hot celebrities to the occasional bare-chested individual. Quite similar to Daffodils, but a decibel quieter, less emphasis on colour and more on being true to their sexual nature.

All men are born equal. And all men have the right to be what they want to be, a right mitigated only by the collective rights of others. It is unnecessary, presumptuous, wrong and discriminatory to label. Men are human beings, not cans.

Random thought - I must do a sequel entitled Classes of men - the 99 others.

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Of a blogger's block and his random musings

So far I have lived up to the promise of doing only grammar and spell check edits to my blogs. I'm giving it to you raw and unprocessed, no pun intended.

Speaking of pun, I realized yesterday that my mouth is the single most culpable organ when it comes to the reputation I am trying to get away from. I tend to find puns (mostly sexual) in anything that a particular group of friends say. Its reflex, I cant help it. So, coupled with a few known encountered with such people, they think that's what's running in my mind all the time. Anyway, I will try not to care.

What to write about? I think a blogger's block may be imminent. Yes, it does happen. All bloggers seem to take a few weeks or months off from writing. The block may be as a result of external factors or it may be stifled creativity, the latter in my case.

In the recent interview for the position of the Chief Justice and his deputy, one panelist's questions stuck out like a sore thumb. Lawyer Ahmednasir Abdullahi once asked an interviewee on public television whether her judgments which were written in simple English were as a result of a writing style or a personal (intellectual) limitation. And that's just one question. Most of his questions sounded like the quiet musings of a scorned literary genius with a personal vendetta. Most people say that this approach is erroneous but I disagree for two reasons.

First, if an interview is all about academic and technical qualification on the one hand and judicial reform agenda on the other, this could easily be sorted out by perusing the candidates CVs for the former and an essay question for the latter. I think the main reasons for an interview is to investigate the interpersonal touch of the candidate and their suitability in human interaction. So yes, put them on the spot. The position they want to occupy will have them questions for their decisions, approaches and even lifestyle. So lets have a sample of how they will take it, lets take a glimpse of their mettle.

Second and more relevant to me is the fact that the whole interview process was televised, live in some stations even. We all know TV is about entertainment and personally, I thought it thoroughly entertaining.....or at least I would have done so if I had the discipline to watch the darned news item. Counsel should start a show or something.

Kenyans love gossip. They hyperventilate in their search for juicy personal information. That's why a drug induced tantrum from a politician is of more concern to the nation than understanding the primary qualities that the State should be looking for in the head of the watchdog arm of government. I won't complain. Media is called the fourth arm of government and there is at least one parallel that I can draw between the media and the government proper. They say a people get the ruler (government) they deserve. It would seem that the people also get the kind of media (and content) that they want.

The old fashioned KBC approach of highlighting key state functions and development matters is irrelevant today. We want to know which politician was involved in a brawl, which minister is stealing our condoms, which take away french fries made a local celebrity runner commit suicide by jumping of his balcony on the first floor (?????), what kind of satire we can draw from the political happenings of the week, et cetera. Kenyans do love a juicy story. No wonder niger dramas have such a hold on the populace.

In keeping for their love for drama, wearing an earring and writing a thesis on gay and lesbian rights now means you're gay. I used to think that the classification was defined by sexual attraction. Why the protracted need to infer conclusions? Simple, we love a juicy story. Both sides of the divide are equally guilty, those opposed to the nominees and those in support of the nominees.

I'm guilty too. I wanted the President's nominee for Attorney General (one Dr. Githu Muigai) to get the post simply because he is the wittiest of the bunch. Just for the record, this is the guy who, while lecturing us for a constitutional law class, asked a question and receiving no volunteers to respond to it, proposed to revise the exam he had set for us and throw in some "barbed wire". Barbed wire? Something to stop the meek and hurt the persistent? Barbed wire. I need such entertainment in my news.

A local  marathon champion dies after jumping off the balcony of his house, said balcony located on the first floor. A witty acquaintance surmises that, as a marathon champion, resilience was part of all his endeavours. So who says he only jumped once? WITTY!!!!!!


As I said, I lack the inspiration to write. I have nothing to blog about this morning. So darn sad.

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Sunday after Friday the 13th

I begun my Monday on the road. At 12 midnight I was driving back home. I had a busy Sunday. I visited a police station. I left home with the intention of watching a movie in theatre alone. I trusted someone who later turned out not to be worth the trust. I woke up at 7:30am Monday morning.


I have become a mutant version of my former self.


It was an interesting weekend. Saturday was ecstatic, Sunday sucked (and not gently with passion using the lips and tongue but violently with intent and using mostly the palate and the teeth), but I saved the day and broke even for the weekend.

Imagine this, you meet someone at a random social gathering. You the meet this person not so randomly on a social network. You go ahead and meet this person at an arranged social gathering. You also invite this person to a friends house for a party. At this juncture, aren't you allowed to assume that you can trust them by inviting them to sleep at your place after a tiring party night? Well, I did. But I took my beloved techies (Ippy, Lappy and Droidy) and my wallet close to me. As I often say, paranoia and grace have kept me these many twenty-something years.

What I didn't anticipate is one of my friends coming up with a macbook and keeping it next to him overnight with a stranger around. So in the morning the macbook has gone. And a phone from the next room and an external hard disk and some money from my friend's wallet. Ippy and Droidy might have gone but the good Lord made me paranoid enough to be a light (but easily satisfied) sleeper coz the thief tapped me to see if I was awake.

So my Sunday was wasted trying to trace them (without much success) and reporting the matter to the police station.

I felt disappointed. First, my friend trusted that my house is the sanctuary its always been, and suffered loss for that trust. Second, my house is my sanctuary. For every person who lives alone or with people they have chosen, home is a SANCTUARY - a place to go to when the whole world hates you, a place where no one can ask you why the world hates you. To be pilfered in your own sanctuary is a gross violation of some principal but as yet unnamed tenet. I now have so much more faith in humanity.


The cop wrote "markbook" - I cannot, at this point, figure out what words would express what I felt.


So, to remedy the day, I went to watch Thor in 3D. I'm a sci fi fan, so I loved it. The effects especially. The thing with sci fi movies, unless its Star Wars, we don't care for or expect much of a plot. Just throw in a good looking person, a responsible person, some kind of moral of the story and a good ending and we'll be content.

This weekend I had two opportunities to get back at two people who I think would have deserved it. The thing is, there are certain people who seem unable to resist me in person but can come up with all manner of nasty approaches online or on phone. These two fell into that category. So I randomly stumbled upon them, and did nothing, well, nothing much. Seems I could be, perhaps, in some dimensions related to this one, vaguely probably considered to slightly convince a few as to my possible ability to be, in all uncertain terms, nice.

Random thought - to a not so random week. I also find myself wondering what a specific someone is doing, whether they're having fun, with who, and generally whether all their toes are intact.

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Tax

I hate tax. I don’t think there’s anyone who loves tax. Generally people don’t like something that reduces their expenses without their explicit control. That’s what tax does……and marriage. Given the ubiquity of this emotion, I will not dwell on it. however, there’s a side dish to the vice. Annual Tax Returns. You know why I hate these in particular? For one, I can’t see what they tax so I cant put an image to the tax. The Income Tax Act is a voluminous statute. It will use too much memory space. But a tax return? Why, its just the right size for a whipping.

Not only is it enough to take a whooping third of my income but you have to tease me about it 6 months later? Then there’s the whole psychological element of making me multiply it by 12 just to tell just how far up you shoved it? The first time I filled one I nearly passed out. I’d never thought I had so much money. If you’re like me, you look at your monthly net, period. KRA kindly asks you (on pain of penalty, of course) to take that amount, add the amount they’ve bled from you, then multiply that by 12, then do roughly 30% of that. Lets do some math with X being my monthly income. X + 0.3X * 12 = 15.6X / 3 = 5.2X. So the amount in the tax return is 5.2 times my monthly net. That’s tantumount to taking a virgin by force without lubrication at the back with a 2 litre coca cola bottle……..and asking the virgin to help push.

Granted, tax is an element of society we can’t get away from. The whole concept of the origin of government is etched in the idea that we cede power to a select few (or a structure in society made up of a select few) so that they can weild our consent for the greater good. Same thing with tax. We cede a bit of our income to a collective vessel which can then implement the things society takes for granted. So when I drive out and I see a road and at the necessary times its manned by a traffic cop and I know that vigilante gangs will not put a road block in my way with impunity, I try and understand that the concept is at work. Its not flawless, just like humanity is not flawless, but at least its at work. Of course the flip side is when I turn on the tv and see a clip on politicians and parliamentarians and I feel like taking one of them and shoving a rim of annual returns where the sun doesn’t shine. Or at least its not supposed to shine but you never know, people have weird fetishes. I digress.

But my point is, take it. but don’t ask me to watch my own ravishing….in HD. Take it and go. I don’t even notice when I’m taxed. Nowadays when I’m given a raise, I calculate 70% of the amount as a matter of reflex. You know more about that money than I do. So how about you fill the annual return yourself. I mean, seriously, just wipe yourself.

Enough venting.

So lets talk about fake exemptions. KRA knows how to fake it, doesn’t it. I mean, I think it even carries a tube of goo around in case they need a quickie fake. Capital gains tax was abolished in the 80s. if you don’t know what that is, its basically a tax the difference between disposal and acquisition price for an item which has experienced market appreciation. Disposal profit, if you like. So this is currenly not taxed. But if you’re a company, any item exempted from corporate tax attracts a compensation tax upon distribution of dividends. What the hell is compensating tax? Its like giving someone a discount but saying they’ll pay the difference on their way out of your store. IDEOS…..oops, I meant, IDIOTS!!!!!

Random thought – it’s a cool phone. I just don’t spending money to get an android and then a cost-effective (yeah, lets use that term and maintain relationships) android floods the market. I no longer say I have an android.

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Of madness and Bond

I had an infuriating conversation.......with myself. I do that once in a while. I mentally project the subject with whom I'm to have a conversation with and talk my heart out. Today it was a friend who had betrayed me by believing a rumor and spreading it without getting me into the loop. I gave him a piece of my mind and concluded by stating that friendship is a fact, not a label.

To more important matters. I'm watching James Bond Tomorrow Never Dies. Cars, gadgets, women, charm and Witt is what made a Bond movie. This new "Bond" (I don't care for his real name) doesn't have any of that. He's a tortured soul with little to offer Bond fans. We can get action anywhere. What we needed was a Bond after our hearts, like the others. Well, till next time then.

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69

Dear 6,

Please stop spreading rumors about me eating 9. I hear you and 9 get up to some really weird shit.

Sincerely, 7.

Wow, is that a coincidence or what. The old stupid joke that 6 fears 7 because 7 ate(8-for the fairly slow ones) 9 has been taken to a new level. And what a coincidence that the 69 sex position fits (pun right there) perfectly into the whole mix.

I know, I know. I'm taking it a bit too far.

Y'all visit www.dearblankpleaseblank.com and enjoy some intellectual humor.

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Email Blogging

I might be resort to this to avoid having to show up on the site all the time now that I’ve made it all colourful and gay. So let me see how this works out.

I have a moderate appreciation of art. Especially digital pictures that voilate the senses. Like the burning bush the guitar is not consumed by the fire that so apparently engulfs it. Thrilling. For someone with an expansive imagination, this gets you wondering.

Random thought: Hibiscus. Thor 3D. Parched. What a useless day.

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Freedom from reputation

Writing when angry brings out the best in me, I think.

I've just realized something. The last few months I've been groping in the dark not knowing what I've been looking for. I've been busy working hard to accomplish a goal I didn't fully appreciate. All I knew is when I'd fail to accomplish it. The feeling is bad. Must be what retards feel. There it is, there it is, there it is, oops, it's gone, but wait, what was it in the first place? Drool.

Thanks to a friend who just annoyed me I know what it is. Nothing like heightened emotion to give you an epiphany. I need freedom from my reputation. I've been told countless times about it, at times it's painted as a good reputation, at times a bad one. But always the same one. Well, to me it's bad. It means I don't have principles. Imagine me. Not having principles. What am I then? Aren't we the sum total of our beliefs which then form our principles which then dictate our actions?

First, acceptance. I won't deny the reputation and I'll even go as far as conceding that it has an element of truth. Undoubtedly it's exaggerated. I mean, real life is boring, let's stretch our imaginations, why don't we. But it's made up of a core of truth, painted by the prejudices of those with access to it, coated and layered by those without access who come to hear it, bloated by time and pampered to full erection by the mouths of those who tirelessly pay homage to it.

Then shame, anger and depression in quick succession. Never had much time for emotions.

Finally conviction and determination. I'll destroy the core truth of the reputation and pray that the whole structure crumbles. Undoubtedly it will take at least as much time to destroy as it took to build. But I will watch and wait, like that vulture in Sudan waiting for the malnourished child to die. I wonder what happened to the photographer of that sad tale.

I'll need to shed myself of a lot of trash. Also some useless acquaintances and even one or two negative friends. And fill in those gaps with newer ones who will be easier to control. I also need to distance myself from those participants who tempt me to give the reputation it's core truth. Yet another paragraph for the wise.

Rejoice universe, the cold one is making a comeback.

Random thought - The world is changed. I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.

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Hard and sweaty business

Yesterday evening I was chatting with a friend of mine and voila, I randomly engaged in that very interesting physical activity which it tiring and sweaty but leaves you feeling so darn satisfied. Yes, I went to the gym.

Now, I’m not overly fat although I have to admit I’m less than fit by more than a few points. Nevertheless, I don’t have this pressing need to lose weight. You’re right, what weight. But I like the idea of working out for a few reasons. Facing the challenge builds discipline. If you can keep up the habit despite your body’s protests, what else shouldn't you be able to do without your body’s express consent?

It does wonders to the biology of the body. From my experience, I get a healthier appetite and require less hours of sleep with consistent working out. That, of course, might have changed since the last time I worked out.

Working out also revitalizes the spirit. This may be related to the other two points but just one work out yesterday made me feel on top of the world, no pun intended.

A few experiences made this a bit different from other work outs I’ve heard in the past. For one, I had a trainer taking me through the ropes. So after cycling 4km and running two, this particular trainer targeted muscles I’d forgotten I have. Thank God the sets are limited to three. One more set and I’d have been crying for mummy.

I got into the sauna - very interesting experience. I hate heat and I hate humidity. So why, pray tell, would they make a place that artificially creates both for the human body? It was a horrible experience. A few more times and I'll be done with it for life. After such a work out and very few part of my body are aching a day later, it had to be the sauna.

Then I come out of the sauna and my 22 year old trainer steps out of the shower butt naked (or nekd, as my friend says). And he’s not in a hurry to cover himself. For five random minutes he galavants his exposed self in the changing room. At this point I should clarify that we were alone in the room.

I’ve been brought out with a certain healthy respect for privacy and nothing gets more private than “private parts”. To be so accosted out of the blues was a grand violation of my notion of indecent exposure. Now I’ll be the first to admit that you can’t indecently expose something decent, but I’m still not convinced on the decency of this particular exposure.

Thirst. No, not that. The sauna allegedly makes you lose 1 litre of water through sweat for every two minutes you’re in that darned place. I didn’t believe that so I googled it. Apparently, an average person loses between 0.5 and 1.5 litres of water for a 15 minutes session. That’s more credible. So I was thirsty. I normally don’t like drinking water but I was gulping glass after glass.

A perfectly well formed body. That’s what staying in a gym does to a normal human being. Too bad it doesn’t change the face for the better. My life would have been that much more hard. For the wise.

Moving on, due to the proliferation of android based phones in the Kenyan market, I had an interesting experience yesterday. A friend of mine invited me to a chat group on a web-based SMS program. This group had 10 people, nine of whom I knew. And they were having a sex chat. So here I was seeing some otherwise innocent people talking about the most debasing things. I knew the moment I'd step in most of them would not be free to chat so I just read and hushed. Most interesting.

I hurt my back. Isn't it interesting how 40 sit ups can make me go to work the following day at noon and a weekend of lifting a 55kg weight for an hour doesn't incapacitate me one bit? The difference is motivation I guess. Ego plays its part. This paragraph is another for the wise.

Random thought - Chips and chicken. 60 kgs - that's what I weight yesterday.

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The Philosophy of a Weekend

For the first time since I started blogging again, I took a few days off. Inadvertently. The weekend just caught up with me like one of those cyclic redundancy errors of the diskette era.

I always wonder if there is some underlying psychology behind what makes my weekends. Well, technically, of course there is. But can I ever know it. Should I make a case study of one?

In some ways this weekend was typical, characterized by the relaxing indiscipline of indulging in certain activities while yearning for other. Those I engaged in being sleeping, watching tv and visiting friends, while those I yearned for being hitting the road in German technology, enjoying the presence of a chosen companion and receiving a deep tissue massage. About hitting the road in German technology, you know you crave the road when you start heading to a place called Kinoo for an official meeting and you end up in a place called Limuru just coz ‘you missed a turn’. And it’s the fuel tank that stopped me. And this was not German engineering.

But this weekend does not make for an ideal case study. It had a few unusual about it. One being I went out. To Westlands of course for the only thing that makes going out worth while. A feast for the eyes. Watching that youth at the prime of life dressed in the most “interesting” ways gives me some sort of joy.

My interest in this crowd is not popular perverted drool of the elderly thinking about the old days when they still had virility in their loins or the senseless panting of a teenager in heat, but the envy of a culture that was not part of my early years and an almost artistic appreciation of the aesthetics of a finer biology complimented by contemporary fashion.

I have to confess that had I been part of such a crowd when I was young, I would not have turned out to be the person I am today. I am grateful in part that I didn’t enjoy that lifestyle, but I’m also glad that I’m getting to see it before I’m too old to be anything but a pervert in enjoying the scene.

Another thing that made this weekend unusual is that, for the first time in months, I did not have a full house. I think in total, I had 2 visitors to my name. The usual culprits were missing, along with the usual shenanigans.

I did two things that I’m embarrassed about. Both a result of indiscipline. Of course I wont tell you what they are, I said they’re embarrassing, didn’t I?

Overall, May is turning out to be a “not so bad month”.

Random thought – I don’t think this is going to be a “deep” week. I think I’ll discuss more personal stuff.

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Lets talk about sex

Ok, not really, but I got your attention, didn’t I? And a perfect excuse to upload a pic.

Now that I have your attention, the saying is that success is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration but I think I differ on the percentages. My reason is simply. Success does seem to have a correlation with hard work but does not clearly guarantee results, and neither can it boast to be an essential ingredient. I see impoverished lean people on the streets whose glistening bodies evidence hard work while the opulent only acquire the same sweaty profiles in gyms and saunas.

Hear ye, hear ye, there comes the troops saying it depends on how you define hard work and success. Lets try simple definitions – hard work is what gets you really tired (physically or otherwise) and most people will shy away from while success is wealth/unlimited access to the things that make life worth while.

By that definition I think those properly called labourers work pretty hard while those called executives don't break a sweat on a daily basis. And yet who has less limitations in accessing the things we all seek? Rhetoric.

Inspiration on the other hand is less discriminative of cadres. I get more done in one inspired hour than in an otherwise busy day. My employer has wisened up to my ways and leaves me to my devices. He knows I need time to work up the inspiration to give him what he needs to impress his clients. He knows I need time to work up the inspiration to get what I need to impress his clients.

I agree, hard work and success can be defined in other ways. But could everyone please stop implying that appearing busy will ultimately unlock success?

Ok, lets really talk about sex

Male or female? Got you again, didn’t I?

I recently read a blog that asserted that all men are driven by the quest for sex. I disagree, I think its just most men. And I also think its not really sex, it’s the conquest that sex means. Explains why the harder the target, the greater the urge to have it.

Yeah, that’s all I have to say on the matter. No positions, no names, no statistics and no personal confessions.

Not so random thought - Coitus. Copulate.

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Tactful humility

So am in this meeting, right? We've arrived late and the client starts going on and on about how we and the other advisor in the room are not taking it seriously. As in he's getting really worked up.

Ok? And here are the two reactions I observed from the two culprits. The other advisor gives excuses and takes this hard stand saying he's not at fault. Come to think of it, this is how kids do it too. This aggravates the client further and his voice has become shaky. I call it embarrassing anger, you know, that one you know you're making an ass out of yourself but you don't care coz venting it feels just so damn sweet - kinda like taking a stubborn crapper, you don't even dare look at your phone at that point.

And my boss? He apologizes. This despite the fact that he has a flawless track record of attendance unlike the other chap.....except today of course. And he lays on the apology thick. You know those ones where the only option left is for the other person to say "it's ok". Yeah, that one. The client calms down, you can see the gauge falling, like when you switch off the car and they tumble smoothly from loss of potency (or even like how someone walks in on you when you're 'busy' and you go all flacid.

Then he proposes measures to take to ensure that it's convenient for everyone to meet without inconveniencing each other. Then he explains his lateness. The client is happy. The meeting starts.

I'm almost sure the meeting couldn't have taken off with those two going for each others' throats.

I have to say, my boss has it in him. I like my boss. He bought me a sandwich too.

And I like my housemate too for buying 20 litres of fuel for me.....or rather, on my behalf..... since I have to pay him back COG. I can breath easy.

Lesson learnt. Humility is not embarrassing if its tactful. And you need humility in business. Even the shrewdest  businessman sucks up, a lot.

I'm left wondering if I have what it takes to make it big, in business. Can't I just buy some real estate on the moon and retire to making myself sandwiches?

Random thought - I know what blogging is - its talking to random people about topics you're passionate about oblivious, in most cases, to the reaction of their audience. Kinda like what street preachers do.

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Immortality

I’m currently reading Ramses the Great by Anne Rice. She’s a favourite author, in the top ranks with Colleen McCullough, she of the “First Man in Rome” fame. In this novel she deviates from her vampire/witches chronicles but predictably, the concept of the immortal still permeates this book.

The book centers around Ramses, once and always famed mighty pharaoh of Egypt, who gained the secret of immortality. Entombed of his own will for 2000 years he is revived by an archeologist who defies the curse on his “tomb”.

I love paradoxes and this book has plenty.

The first thing he sees in the process of being revived is the murder of an innocent. An act of sheer greed. What a ‘welcome back’ message from humanity.

Then, despite being in the “information age” he learns that the world’s history is a collection of errors. Truly history is not only written by the victor as is so readily said but also coloured by the prejudices of latter generations.

And despite having almost magical inventions and awe-inspiring technological advances, society still grapples with poverty and the poor. Clearly time hasn’t cured humanity of its shortcomings, or the world of its humanity, whichever the greater evil may be.

Immortality does not also do justice for the soul. Ramses the Great, or Ramsey, stands up after two millennia of slumber only to fall in love. This time with less than a queen. His second inspiration is revenge – noble as the quest for justice against the murderer of an innocent may be, this remains, in my view – a most crippling emotion.

Immortality has always fascinated me. The Good Book says God has “set eternity in the hearts of men”. But also close to my heart is a post-apocalyptic world – a world without humanity. Oh, such bliss, such serenity - who can dare say I do not have the heart of a romantic?

Random thought - No, this is not a book review. Mummy.

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Conspiracy

Lordy. Today I was crippled for two hours.

First, I'm running low on fuel, two traffic builds up as people rush to fuel stations. It takes me a blistering hour to cover a journey that takes ten to fifteen minutes. Then I can't fuel coz.....well, that's where all the traffic is headed. Then I get home and no lights, and I'm out of credit.

Then the ATM decides I should save and not spend by denying me my dues. I go back home to deal with my misery and my phone is running out of charge. I turn to the long-battery-life "Ippy" and it's at 25% - two and a half hours worth. So I decide to continue reading my current novel - Ramses, the Damned by Anne Rice. Guess what, I'd synced the iPad with a fresh install of iTunes and my novels are all gone. All of them. I'm as damned as Ramses, not as old though, but with the same passion for immortality (Remind me to discuss immortality one of these days, I have a thought or two on the subject).

Depression. Home alone with no lights, no charge, no credit, no novel, no fuel, no food and no money. Times you wish you'd made the move on that Neighbour a long time ago.

Most of these are resolved now. But it left me wondering at how dependent we are on volatile things. I guess this is where family comes in handy. Should I get married? Not yet, I've downloaded mahjong in case that happens again. Nice try tho.

Random thought. Screw you for outing me. Screw you, and a threesome too.

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Blogs?

Wikipedia says a blog (a blend of the term web log) is a type of website or part of a website. Blogs are usually maintained by an individual with regular entries of commentary, descriptions of events, or other material such as graphics or video.

Blogger.com says A blog is a personal diary. A daily pulpit. A collaborative space. A political soapbox. A breaking-news outlet. A collection of links. Your own private thoughts. Memos to the world. ..... whatever you want it to be. There are millions of them, in all shapes and sizes, and there are no real rules.

The point of all these definitions is that no one should question whats in a blog........unless they do it in a blog. That part of "whatever you want it to be" allows me to.

Anyway, my contention is that I find no value in your blog if its mere rantings. Give me your thoughts about something, however random, but once you make it "days of your lives" then I don't think its wise to pay attention. Nausea, by definition, is not appealing.

Having said all that, I think I approve of the use of blogs as emotional vents. If it reduces the psychological instability of the populace then great.

So here's my vent for the day. If being used makes you useful, why does it feel so damn lame? And are we allowed to be deliberately less useful or is purpose the sum total of our lives?

Random thought. I can post in blue. Vertigo is such a delightfully thrilling feeling.

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Familiarity breeds contempt

How true.


Yes, that's the totality of this post. The saying, and a confirmation of my belief in its truth.


Random thought? Not so random today. People need to stop having serious expectations.

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Random musings

Today I'm feeling melancholic. Why? Maybe it's abba, Michael Jackson and Elton John's fault.


Humans are by nature social beings. We can't stand being alone. And it's a tall order at times since we can be alone even in a crowd. The desire to associate, and be associated with is not quenched my mere physical proximity. I used to be better at this. I used to watch movies all alone and get lost in my thoughts of a world not anything like this, and even in that world I'd be alone. Alone but respected, admired and loved. Can't do that anymore. Always itching for company. Crap. Crap crappity crap.


On a less sad note, I started this sentence not knowing how I was going to end it. I suspect I'll become really good at thinking on my feet one day. Introducing created topics flawlessly. I hope it won't coincide with the loss of my innocence, my deeply rooted hate for lying.


Apart from "sacrifice" and "can you feel the love tonight", I've forwarded through Elton John's songs. His songs define melancholy.


Glass and black. Transparency and opaqueness. I like the contradiction. Just wait until I'm rich enough to hire an interior designer and still have money left over to buy what she recommends. Yes, must be a she. Don't ask why.

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Judges without verdict

One day I'll write a post without the words 'I' or 'me'. But not today. Me I'll write about something else.


Having said that, bad english grates me. Especially when it flaws good looks. If you look like rail track kill then I won't notice those errors. Flogging a dead horse? Ok, that's cruel. But seriously, it's a multistage process. First, looks. Then, posture, dressing and mannerisms followed by speech patterns and apparent intelligence. And it's a knockout type session.


Please note, I do not subscribe to the school of thought that people should only opine on topics which they have absolute command of. I think the concept of fair opinion counts. So forgive my many slip-ups, English is not native to me, it's the product of a system designed by lesser gods.


What does the world have against quiet people? I recently gave this some thought and this is my two cents on the matter (due to inflation, the aforementioned two cents may not be what they once were). Everyone judges, with brute efficiency we form opinions on things we have limited information about. And we proceed to act on presumptions and assumptions. And everyone is aware of this. It's why we dress up and learnt to speak and behave as we prefer to. Our preferences are dictated by our need to influence others opinion of ourselves.


So since we know others do it to us, and since we have a vested interest in the opinion formed, we itch to know how we've fared. Now here comes the connection. Quiet people don't betray their thoughts as readily as our benevolent-mouthed colleagues. So you know you've been judged, but don't know the verdict.


See how much a quiet person is distrusted in a crowd. It's akin to how a sober person is regarded by drunks. You feel observed n yet denied of a basic right, the right to open sentence. You subconsciously run a trial through your mind and unless your conscience is singed, the trial consumes you. Ish.


I like quiet people, they set everyone on edge and get them to quietly stew themselves.


Random thought - of late I've been mixing fruit juice and soda. What's that all about?

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Online diaries cum blogs

Thanks to my browser randomly crashing, I've lost a three paragraph post. Let me see if I can remember what I was on about.


First, something about not making this an online diary followed by a recap of the things I did yesterday and an oops about having just made this into a diary of a not so interesting personality. I mean, so I had a great wine evening, so some young but legal ones came to entertain us with not so traditional (actualy rather swaggerific) dance. So I got into bed at 6. Right about here came the oops.


Moving on to the more substantial observation. Social media has brought out innate human traits. I think this is what the good book calls the pride of life. The desperate desire to ensure our peers are aware of even minuscule social achievements. I suppose that's what made Facebook and twitter what they are today. Why tell one when you can broadcast to all. I say we need a CCK license to have Facebook and twitter accounts.


Random thought - Insipid. Cuddle. Liver. Don't ask.

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