End July Rants

I've been reading Harry Potter fan fiction (don't judge me, everyone has a problem with letting go) and from the many stories I've sampled or completed, I came to realize that the essence of a good story is not really in it's plot, at least not for me, but rather in how well the characters are developed and how much I can identify with them, positively or negatively. And yeah, that's one sentence. Fortunately, this is a blog and I don't have to worry about developing characters. I can write what I damn well feel like.

We all get irritated by the weaknesses of others, especially when we regard them as basics, but what I find puzzling is those of us who critic something in which we ourselves are, rather obviously, not good at. Please people, if you want to set yourself as having a command of, say English, do try and make an effort to use it well. We have google nowadays for a quick spell and meaning check. So no excuses, either give us a disclaimer that you weren't taught well, or make an effort to defy your teachers. My disclaimer is this, I'm ambitious in the use of punctuation marks, and frequently stretch the meaning of words to beyond common endurance, and I do not speak half as ok as I write.

Pusillanimous. Someone told me about this word. It's an aversion for risk, and in a social setting can include commitment issues. However, if (and a lot hinges on this word) the stakes are high enough, risk can be justified. I'm pusillanimous.

Of malls and school holidays. That is all.

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The Vagaries of Miscellany

I initially chose "The Miscellaneous Many" as the post heading but who can pass us the chance to use the word vagaries. I hate the word random, so I'll describe this post as covering several unimportant erratic topics.

Seeing the hate messages leveled at one Alfred Mutua, so called government spokeman, I begin to wonder. What if it’s all deliberate? What if he gets a hefty salary to Njoki Ndung’u us (if you don’t know, read to the end and infer the meaning, I’m not given to explaining context unless its to a client) into abject hatred for him and therefore diffuse our notion of the utter crassness of the actual leaders that we [prudent] Kenyans elected? On that note, one wonders who does the voting in the country, over 18s or under 18s. Back to the issue, while I have great faith in the human capacity for stupidity, no single human being can be that aloof of just how much of a fool he appears and how incensing his statements can be. I refuse to believe that there exists in this “third world failed state” the polar opposite of the ideal that is Mother Teresa, mostly because I’m sure the poor woman had her faults, if at all she is human, and those faults might prove perhaps have been most disappointing. Personally I never underestimate the ability of human beings to inflate reputation to suit their fantasies, having suffered this fate at the hands of a hapless and hopeless few.

Today morning, I was irked to the point of writing an email. It’s incredible how the normal things that annoy people have little effect on me but a few mundane things inspire such intense anger. I think I need a psychiatrist. Actually scratch that, perhaps a panel of them would be more in order. I have interacted with a few and whenever I encounter one alone, I tend to figure out pretty quickly what conclusion they have reached that they expect me to adopt as my own. Now I see why that is annoying except, invariably, I’m right. Oh yes, knowing I’m right is all I need (if you get the undertones and the overtones, congratulations, you’re qualified to be an audience. And if you figure out the actual inspiration for this, don't credit yourself, its because I intended you to).

The email was 873 words long, but due to the haste in which I sent it, I had to quickly follow up with a 94 word addendum. I hate second guessing myself in writing, just goes to show my mind is not as organized as I would want it to be. I started by highlighting (briefly) how hard I’ve worked to be where I am, with various public institutions trying to stop me. Three of these public institutions had at their helm a certain gentleman who, despite his overt malice against me and my contemporaries, still manages to impress me above his peers. This particular gentleman once told us something that to this day, remains simultaneously his most malicious and most impressive statement “You’d better cooperate or I’ll revise the exam I’ve set for you and throw in some barbed wire”. I will be forever (common overstatement) impressed by the analogy.

Back to the email. The reason for highlighting my achievements was not an ego trip, it was simply to establish that I was capable and competent to do a certain [rather simple] task. Following closely was a paragraph detailing my dilemma. Despite my competence, circumstances had conspired to deprive me of one of the tools required to do both what I’ve been trained to do and what I had set out to do before writing the email. I then proposed a very convoluted way of going around the problem and resolving the dilemma. I concluded in an uninspiring plea to my colleagues to accommodate me in the course of my day due to the “mental anguish and emotional distress” that the dilemma had occasioned me.

967 words in total, a brilliant (if I may say so myself) piece of literature for the most mundane excuse – that someone had stolen my ball point pen and the in-house (in-office would me more appropriate, I presume) procurement processes recently imposed were ineptly irritating.

Sigh. It seems that despite my sincerest effort, momentary anger seems to be the only thing capable of inspiring my writing.

I’m planning my holidays for next month and one thing is blatantly clear, I’m not as wealthy as the social me requires me to be. What happened to the cold soul-less existence that was me years back? I used to go to the movies alone, now I’d actually consider cancelling for lack of sufficiently appropriate company. So when it came to planning a camping trip, I could not bear the thought of being alone (sadly, conversely, my budget buckled under the pressure of the social aspects of my plans). Sad, but at least I still have 2 weeks to figure it all out.

There’s nothing like technology to bring people together, I mean, isn’t the world one big village where everyone you know is merely a shout away and the number of people you can know is limited simply by practicality? From the now normal emails and phone calls to the success of social networks like Facebook, it’s clear that technology has done more for humanity than all the treaties of the world combined (broad unverified assumption, I know, but work with me). So it was with disappointment that I reacted with shock to yet another instance of technology facilitating our innate social nature. I finally met my neighbor, one Kimberly (I’ve always liked that name and when I was young and convinced that marriage was an inevitable stage in life, I always wished that Kimberly would be the name of the girl I marry. Doesn’t that name just sound like the epitome of urban elite? I digress).

How we met? Internet, but not exactly how you’d think the internet hooks people up. Earlier this month, we got a fibre-optic internet connection for home and as part of the standard equipment, we got a wireless access point. Our [beloved] Kimberly has been seeing the access point on her machine and finally gathered the courage to talk to the obscure quasi-social neighbours next door. Quasi-social because while we don’t know (and frankly don’t care about) our neighbours, they clearly know we like parties especially after the fiasco which I commented on in my last post. Kimberly mentioned the party, but did not highlight (and as far as I could read her, was not concerned about) the peculiar nature of the party (if you don’t know, as I said, I’m not here to give context). If it was, and I’d bet a tidy sum that it wasn’t, an attempt to get psychological leverage on me, then she’s got to be seriously bright coz she pulled it off like a charm. I did not tell her no, rather that I would consult my housemate with whom I cost share the connection. That’s as far from no as I can go in such short notice.

Back to the present. This weekend has started on an ambitious note. Yesterday evening I got 5 calls/inboxes/texts on my plans for today evening. So it seems I have an outstanding barbecue this afternoon and two (very peculiar) guests for this evening. At the same time, I have absolutely no idea what to with the rest of the weekend. Well, as usual, something will come up (absolutely not pun intended. Honestly, I didn’t even see the pun until I had finished typing that) and if it doesn't (not that I have the problem extrapolation of the previously unintended pun would suggest), then I have my trusty TV and several un-watched and re-watchable movies.

If I was to run a survey for my blog, it would be to determine whether or not I’m as cryptic as I tend to think I am. To some people the blog is mostly open and obvious but even to the best I bet there’s the occasional doubt as to my meaning. Oh well, I’m not running a survey soon. Speaking of surveys, I did a quick background survey for that email I wrote, and as it turns out, no one in this office has ever had a ball point pen run out of ink on them. I’m tempted to lend credence to that theory in “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” that there is a planet out there that all pens teleport to when they are fed up of being handled, rubbed against paper, compared to swords and otherwise used nefariously (in this case with the meaning inclined more to disgust than to evil) to reach into those random body orifices that defy the fingers. Too much information right there, I know.

Why is my Google in Swahili? What the hell do you mean by "Leo ni siku yangu"?

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Reprieve

I've finally conceded and decided to give reprieve from my silence. It's been ages since I've post and I have actually gone 7 days without a single post. I've been partly resisting and partly uninspired, and even this is simply clutching at straws.

It's been an exciting one week with loads happening.

For instance, my housemate decided to test the limits of socialization and invited "a few" people over. This time, a few turned out to be 40+ on Saturday night. The house was so crowded, moving from the front door to the balcony was cardio. He was also ambitious enough to assume the bash would end at 11pm.

Now the one thing you must know about my dear housemate is that he suffers from a profound case of the nice. He cannot compel someone to do what's required/prudent/appropriate even when he has the right to, and he suffers terrible inconveniences for it. Now, I on the other hand have no qualms disappointing even good friends if it suits the larger agenda better,.......so I had no problem NOT helping him get out of the mess. A lesson had to be learnt. Ain't I such a caring angel?

So the boy had a stressful night, but I think it was not a complete waste of social torture. I remained behind to watch, mostly, with a few detours to town and to Westlands to take in some eye candy given that there were only 2 or 3 nice ones to look at the bash, all of them beyond my reach for one reason or the other.

I met with two lovely people on Sunday afternoon. One, an old young friend and another a new young friend. The latter has a crafty little mind and refreshing personality, and is cute (which is not to say the former is entirely without virtue).

On Monday afternoon I had my first public speaking event in years. In fact, I do not recall ever speaking in public before Monday. It was some week long training at the institution where I got my post graduate qualifications on a subject that I'm conversant with and so my boss asked if I wanted to present. I love the respect I'm given in this office, anyone else would have been told to do it, but I was given the option. Either they are used to my stubbornness and creativity at avoiding arduous tasks or they have actual respect for me - the former being more humbling and therefore more palatable to my conscientious self.

It went well, with the convener commending me for a well structured PowerPoint presentation and apparent command of the subject. Simple as the task was it was a feat on my part, marred only by the occasional shaky voice. I definitely do a better job in writing but I guess given my ambitions, I should try and get my oratory skills to be at par with my writing skills.

I've been busy of late, with July marking the race to meet annual financial targets, hence the reduced frequency of posts. This trend is likely to hold, and I must say I'm shocked I managed to sustain multiple posts per weeks for this long.

I'm increasingly learning to appreciate my friends, and the habit of making more friends, and, typically so, the habit of analyzing those friends and the things that move them.

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I’m stubborn. I’m sorry.

I’m stubborn. I’m sorry.

I’m not apologizing for what I am, because, strange as it is, I think I need to be stubborn to be a better person. You know that guy who never gets angry? Ever thought that maybe you’d really regret it if he got angry?

Where is this coming from? Well, I was recently blasted to oblivion about being irritating. Now, anyone who knows me knows few people can actually bother/dare to take me on face to face. I guess that explains the rumours and third party information which I tend to eventually hear about myself. And I never engage in verbal violence or even heated conversations to the point where expletives are used. It solves nothing,.......and I might shrub if I speak while agitated. I was given a thorough verbal lambasting.

Anyway, the blast got to me. And it got me thinking, maybe I should change my ways. The reflection was short lived when I realized that, while I’m not perfect and have a lot to learn in managing people, the problem in this case was not me, or, to be humble, not just me.

Find the most irritating, stupid or even downright evil person in the world and see if people around him are constantly on his case about his vice. Human beings have this remarkable ability to put up or get out and after a while, they do find a sort of balance with those around them. It’s third parties who cause sparks as they strive to find this balance.

My point is this, for someone I’ve known for this long to suddenly blast me about my personality (which has so far remained constant), it must be something that they are dealing with rather than an independent completely new reaction to an already established behavior.

To put it in fewer words, I was subjected to verbal spanking from someone who was obviously going through some emotional turmoil. Maybe I should pity them. Or maybe I should just give my default reaction to human tantrum, subject it to a severe dose of indifference. The latter always works to restore the balance or establish a whole new balance. The former is quite humanitarian, and as you all know, I’m the last person to be accused of that.

Let’s assume for one second that the outburst was not a childish tantrum. This would automatically lead to the conclusion that it was orchestrated deliberately to test my reaction. And we all know that we’re required to put your best foot forward in a test, pretense is tantamount to cheating.

This is my reaction – indifference. Please stew in your own soup until soft, add salt and bitterness to taste, and garnish with lemons. That’s the recipe I recommend.

So it seems this month I get to practice indifference where my base instincts would have proposed a more emotional response. And not just for this case, but in the case of the one person who single handedly inadvertently inspired the start of this blog last year.

I wonder if I’d be less cryptic if I didn’t know people who know me read this blog. I'm grateful to the one person who has confirmed his appreciation of this blog. Or is he, typically, being nice? :-)

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Cryptic

I had posted this a few days back but deleted it out of residue of human empathy that I have, but the residue has since been depleted and otherwise rendered redundant so here goes the post.....


So apparently I'm not as clever as I thought.

Just to be clear, I didn't think I was that smart to being with but hey, I think I thought therefore I thought I am (some of you will get that, some of you won't, so don't feel bad if you don't, it's life).

A wise man once said, for most things there is no absolute truth, just the strength of your convictions. That wise man is me, just now. I guess that's the premise of all religions and most faiths (all except that which I subscribe to and don't you dare question my faith in my own blog), power emanates from conviction rather than the truth of the belief.

I digress.

I have come to this realization due to recent interactions and especially with one interesting individual. I like understanding people just like the rest of you but the difference is that I like putting my understanding of people in words, elsehow said, I like being able to describe the people I interact with.

And I've met my match.

Well, not exactly someone like me, but someone I see similar traits in, resulting in both fascination and frustration on my end. Fascination coz, well, I'm me. And frustration coz, well, I'm me - stubborn and resilient, impatient and almost incorrigibly unforgiving.

But like the ying and the yang, the maturity of the one is the seed of it's own destruction. In this person I see a shadow (not less, but vaguely similar) Of my strengths, and sadly so, my weaknesses. Intelligence has it's limits, resilience it's disadvantages and principles the ultimate obstacle in the pursuit of goals.

Cryptic post? Its entirely possible that one year from now when I have more important concerns, I maybe as clueless as you are as to what I'm alluding to.

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The End of a Saga

Yes, of course I watched Harry Potter.

What did I think of it? It was an apt finish for the movie series and did not make me feel swindled, but as usual the script wasn't written, and the movie wasn't directed, by George Lucas or Steven Spielberg, so I could always find one or two points to criticize.

But the point of this post is not to critic the movie. It's to celebrate it in a more specific manner. Severus Snape. My most favorite character from the first movie and through out the series. Yes, you guessed that this has something to do with his peculiarity, his mastery over his emotion and his obvious but often hidden potency and the even more hidden rumors of his goodness. My dark soul gravitates to such characters.

It was almost tear jerking when, during his last moments (yes, he dies in this movie, many people die, get over it) his last words brought into sharp focus the very first words he spoke when he burst into my life almost a decade ago. I heard them in my minds [ear]. I can give you his entire dialogue in a heart beat......ok, maybe a bit more time.

I was keen to see whether he would turn out to be a force for good or evil, just as I would be concern about what path I'd take if I had supernatural powers. And I was not disappointed. I won't give spoilers here but I must say I loved the angle that the movie took on this point.

My highlights in the movie? I'm torn between hearing Voldemort laughing and seeing Bellatrix being killed. Is it just me or are there distinct parallels between Voldemort and a character I'm compared to occasionally - Sheldon Cooper? The laughter, the awkward body movements and retarded feigned displays of emotion, it was all too familiar.

But at the end, it was sad. That was the end of an awesome movie series spanning the last decade. I grew up with that boy - Harry Potter. From the first movie in which he was virtually prepubescent to the last movie where he's beyond barely legal.

I'll miss looking forward to the next Harry Potter.

For this movie we didn't have someone high on smoked plant leaves, but it did have it's audience driven moments. There this time someone's phone rung - the default Nokia ring tone. And someone went like "For real?". Then this time Harry was at a brightly lit place and someone volunteered the much needed information "bright light". I guess everyone who had closed their eye at that point got indispensable info at this point. I know, boring.

The fact that I knew more than 10 people in the audience goes to show that the movie has a very specific following. For those who know what I mean, I wonder whether it has anything to do with the use of wands.

PS, the last two paragraphs were included as an afterthought due to duress. I felt the post needed more content. See what happens when a post does not come from the the heart? The heart? Haha (insert Voldemort/Sheldon type laughter here). The heart. Really!

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18 of the 86 Rules of Drinking

Apparently there are 86 rules of drinking. Out of the bunch, only 18 made it here:

1. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.
2. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.
3. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.
4. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.
5. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.
6. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice
7. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they’re sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.
8. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.
9. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.
10. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.
11. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.
12. If you owe someone money, always pay them back in a bar. Preferably during happy hour.
13. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.
14. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.
15. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.
16. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.
17. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.
18. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.

 No comment, and no psych-eval!

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"[Random Stranger] has accepted your friend request"

I promised someone I'd dig into their profile and get to the first ever facebook wall post or post a blog. After 10 minutes, I had gone all the way back to February 18, 2011 where there was a post about tomatoes and fruit salad. I gave up. Waaaay too much wall activity. So now I have to post something here instead.

Don’t you just hate it when blogger is down and you have a burning post to put up? Well, that’s not happened to me in a while so that was just a pointless whine. Here’s a more contextual one.

Don’t you just hate it when facebook sends you a notification saying that “[Random Stranger] has accepted your friend request”? Random Stranger being someone you have absolutely no recollection of sending a request to.

Doesn’t it make you feel like there’s a bunch of people out there who frequently see your friend request on their profile, sneer at it adoringly then conveniently ignore it? And doesn’t it feel like they must have lost some level of self esteem to finally accept that friend request, months or perhaps years later?

I mean, even banks recognize that cheques go stale after 6 months, shouldn’t facebook have such a rule for friend requests? I know I have, so every time I get one of those (not that its frequent but its happened more than once), I’ll go to that person’s profile and unfriend. If you’re really that interested, send me an invite. I promise I won’t sit on it. I’ll accept (unlikely) or “not now” it so fast that I’ll hardly, save for near eidetic memory, remember there was such an incident a few hours later.

Wednesday is the worst day of the week for me, its both good and bad, like Severus Snape. It’s so darn close to Friday but at the same time so close to Monday. At least Monday’s all bad, especially before noon, like Voldemort in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 (which you probably haven’t watched yet unlike me…..assuming you don’t read this before Friday at 10pm – triple negatives, I wonder what Mrs. Gitau would say now).

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Dystopia

I feel strange.

I feel like locking myself up this weekend and not coming out until it's over. At the same time I feel like going out there, where it's all happening (but well lit) and seeing young others having platonic fun. And I want my friends.

Unlike most people, I don't have a best friend. I'm yet to find anyone I can identify with (or conversely who can identify with me) to that extent. And it leaves a vacuum of trust and a load on my chest. Now don't get me wrong, I have close friends, who know more about me that I would, in my more rational moments, prefer them to know. And these close friends are sufficient.

But a best friend is that person you give special critical privilege, the right to question you without the reciprocal right for you to get angry and exorcise (yes, like a demon) from your life.

But the way I feel has nothing to do with not having a best friend, I just brought that up to explain why this finds itself in this blog, rather than on the soaking wet shoulder of a bff. My random feeling has to do with a long chain of post-apocalyptic (and similarly dystopic themed) movies that I've been watching, both on big screen and at home. They've left me with this sour taste in my mouth, or rather, they have made the normal motions of ordinary life leave such a taste at such a prime location (pun intended).

So I feel I need time off, and yet I want to observe humanity from afar, and yet again I want the company of those few loved ones. Put it like this, I want it all, and I want it all this weekend.

I did something else I'm embarrassed about - I made someone fall in love with me. At first it was a momentary prank with no intention to see it thru but someone developed it into a dare. I wasn't sure of success, but daily calls, and miss you texts, an "I have a soft spot in my heart for you" statement and fluffy inboxes have me thinking I'm in way over my head. I wanted to succeed, and I'm afraid I've done just that. Now to get out with as few casualties as possible.

And before you judge me, I did say I'm sorry, didn't I?

Moving on, I know why I don't bring people too close - because they are human, which means they are full of contradiction and inconsistency, which, coupled with my own vagaries tends to lead to inevitable chaos. I don't like chaos, it's too......you know, random!

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Me Likey!!

So I watched Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon. The movie was fascinating - as expected for someone who likes the whole graphics thing. I'm not sure it had any story or a moral to any such story but I loved the action and the graphics. Did I mention it was in 3D? The movie was.....to borrow someone's description - AWESOME!!!

Now there was this chic seated in front of us and I could tell from an early stage that she was going to be trouble. Judging from the way she was jerking her head and exclaiming in whispers, I knew she was excited. Just how excited, I came to learn later. I'm used to sci fi directors impressing one person more than me, but this chic just took it to another level.

At some point in the movie, she was standing up and exclaiming out loud! By the end of the movie, she had degenerated to using profanities to proclaim just how good the movie was. I learnt as we were walking out that she was not just excited, but also under the influence of two classes of really bad stuff.

Did she have more fun than us? I'm not sure, I tend to like my fun served straight up without the haziness that a few rolls of weed and a bucket of vodka brings. I'm risk averse, I like playing it safe. What's the use of having fun if you remember only half of it? Isn't fun like people, sure to pass away in everything but memory? Anyway, I'm me, and I like walking away from fun, not crawling or staggering or being towed away.

I did something I'm embarrassed about this weekend. I thought it would be fun, but only the shame remains. If only hindsight was as compromised as my normal vision, then maybe the details would be blurred enough for me to placate my conscience. That should explain my sentiments in the previous paragraph - for me, no amount of irrational fun survives the regret that follows when my better nature kicks in. Sigh. Moving on.

Four. That's the number of special people I spent time with this past weekend. One new and exciting but with a multinational corporation trying to keep us apart (imagine facebook having green as its corporate colour), one old and precious providing such fun relaxing company, one long lost from long ago (and looking quite pleasing to the eye with that long hair) and one as prevalent as ear wax who I assume my personality just vexes the shit out of.

You know what I've become good at? Indifference. I can ignore the viking shit out of the vagaries of human nature where these are irrelevant to me, which is, invariably, all the time. I have a heart, but its in secure cold storage beyond the reach of mediocrity.

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Oh no, he's SINGLE!!!

Why are people so concerned by the fact that I'm single?

Seriously, people in relationships always think those not in one are unfortunate. and even people who are single have issues with other single people. either they want to date them themselves or just want them to be equally desperate to find a 'mate'.

My observation of relationships born of common desperation is that they tend to be short, multiple, with an irresponsible but exciting start, and ultimately a disastrous and painful ending. Why, pray tell, would I want to subject myself to that? Unless, of course, I'm trying to build a track record for dating. Is there a reward for serial dating which I have not been told about? When did I miss this memo coz this has been going on for a while.

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Imagine this

A dear friend of mine has an imaginary friend.

By extension that means I know an imaginary person. I was talking to a colleague of mine and had an epiphany in the middle of the conversation. If I'd received a friend request from an imaginary person a long time ago and accepted it, I'd have an imaginary friend. And then people wouldn't think I'm as mad as they think I am.

Doesn't figure? Well, you know how in marking a composition, you don't penalize the author for a spelling mistake twice? Well, if people knew me to have an imaginary friend, I'd blame him for all the very sane things I say but which people seem to think I'm crazy. That way, I'd only have my sanity questioned for having an imaginary friend but not for all those crazy things that such a friend would undoubtedly say.

My epiphany took things one step further. If my interest in the imaginary person is to blame him for those things that I cannot resist saying, then he (or she, but most likely he otherwise we'd spend more time arguing and measuring male apparatus than actual blaming each other) does not need to be a friend. He can be an imaginary enemy, or even better, an imaginary stranger. This way, I might even pass the insanity test since I won't technically have an imaginary friend.

However, my logic was rebutted by that colleague of mine who seems to have a proper response for almost all my improper statements. She is of the opinion that the problem with having an imaginary friend is actually not the word "friend".

Be that as it may (really uselessly wordy phrase), I do think the approach would have been the better way to go. Having already mentioned the principle purpose of having an imaginary friend, I think I should specify why having an imaginary stranger makes even more sense to me. With friends comes the complications of a bond occasioned by affection, and we all know what those are.

With an imaginary stranger, I don't have to remember imaginary updates, get blamed for keeping in touch, have to take into account his imaginary feelings and most of all, I don't have to tolerate his incessant imaginary talking or pleas for financial (or even sexual) help. Imagine the imaginary sex. And the fact that I haven't done enough imaginary work to fill up my imaginary bank account. Crap. Sorry, I meant, imaginary crap.

When all is said and done, I definitely missed an opportunity in my past to have an imaginary stranger. And now I have to stop since, after all, haven't I just said all is said and done? So what else is left to say and do that would require a new paragraph?

Nothing.

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Strike Three, You're Out!

All three of them had something intriguing.

Number One, sadly underage by my standards, was simply beautiful complete with almost perfect hair and Egyptian-looking eyes giving a perfect exotic look.

Number Two was HOT. From the eyes to the lips to the body (a sneak peak confirmed no patent devil in those details) to the attitude. I was dazed, mesmerized, discombobulated even. But having passed the looks test with honours, a secondary test was instantly triggered. More about that later.

Number Three just looked good, but something about the [almost] innocent smile, the perfect shyness, the blush, the newness to the scene and the apparent unavailability (despite the willingness to chat) had my attention.

Did I mention Number One is underage? And given the circumstances of our previous meeting, I really didn't have interest beyond looking at the sheer beauty. Number Three does not elicit permanent or deep interest but I'd like to see where the conversation goes. I got a facebook friend request not 10 minutes into the conversation. Unavailable my dead grandmother.

Number Two, however. And no, I didn't mis-punctuate. For those who know me [and what I mean], that's a complete statement right there. But as I said, a secondary test was triggered. It's a safety test. Looks that good can kick the reasoning out of my door, but before the rationale leaves, the test of reciprocity must be conducted. Eye contact was made, severally, and a platonic compliment delivered. Results for part 1 of the test, no mismatched ego detected.

Part 2 of the test is a memory test. It's the more difficult stage since the first part looks for passive reciprocity while the second looks for the business end of the quality. I'm very sure that some of you (the audience) will disagree with this test, but I know some of you will know perfectly well why it has to be there. Number Two made an impression on me, and if that impression was reciprocated, the memory of me should trigger an attempt at contact. Simply put, a friend request must be received for any level of pursuit on my part.

Until then, I will selectively forget the details of that party. I also met my ex and my replacement. Lovely couple, that one. I discovered [created] a new cocktail of which the only non-alcoholic ingredient is ice. Potent, but despite the quantity taken, it had no perceptible effect on me. I got home at noon the following day, despite the party having been typical.

I need July to be a quiet month. It's the second half of the year, and I need time to think.

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a lil more HATE!!! - Why I won't date you!

I'm single. And that seems to be a problem with some people. Am I aiming too high? Am I too choosy? Maybe. But here are some reasons I won't date you:

This is a work of diction based on true stories. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the Droid’s memory or are used intentionally. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, boring or interesting, is hardly coincidental.

• You reek. I'm not sure if it's a hygiene issue or it's genetic. For the sake of whoever you settle down with, I hope it's not the latter which is immutable. But I'm not here to change people. So, no. Body odour is a chief factor in liking someone, it's never a first factor, but it's a deal breaker unless we're doing permanent long distance. Try cologne and see if it will work, but be sure to keep some under your pillow coz we tend to take deeper breaths in the morning.
• Your breath smells. Here's another killer unless we mutually agree not to kiss or be up close. I'm sorry but I don't want to cringe right before deciding to have a romantic moment. I can only hold my breath for 1 minute before passing out, and even during that one minute, I still get wafts of whatever if left over after the bacteria are through with your lunch. Do you know bad breath actually has a taste? Don't ask how I know but you can rest assured it's not a good taste.
• You're ugly. I like horror movies just like the next guy, heck, maybe even a little more than the next guy, but definitely not when I first open my eyes in the morning. I want to be able to say you're the apple of my eye, not the acacia tree in my face. I'm sorry, and you can't sue you parents any more than fat people can sue McDonalds (Kenchic/Steers - pick one and stick to it).
• You're clingy. I feel like I'm pregnant, with a little one demanding my every attention and growing heavier by the minute. ABORT!!! I need space. And battery charge too so stop texting, calling and inboxing every freaking hour. Absence makes the heart grow fonder so this weekend ain't looking good, in fact, my diary is all filled up will August......next year. I like attention, but get a pet........or vaseline.
• You're socially awkward. No, seriously, I'm afraid to be seen with you. You may be really good in the sack, but I wish you'd carry all of them peculiar habits in one when I'm with you elsewhere. Those days of crouching under tables in restaurants wondering who might know me there were exciting but I miss my dignity.
• Who's your daddy? I'm sorry but I don't need any help spending my money. I'm not really that desperate to buy you a drink, and no, I won't chaperon you to the club either. You'd happily sleep with me? Oh, sorry dear, I don't do that. If I did, I'd prefer a cash and carry basis, barter trade is so 1808!
• You're old. I'm sorry but I heard wrinkles are not good for my skin, so I don't like coming into contact with them, or looking at them for extended periods. Thanks for the interest though, I'm sure we'd have so many interesting socia-political discussions together. Hey, did you ever meet Darwin? There's a quote of his I love but I can't remember how it goes. (I'm so going to read this with regret years from now)
• You don't know what you want. From the type/list of people I see you dying to be around, you must either be settling for less or overshooting your goal with me. You'll make me happy for an hour, I'll make you miserable for 23, if I'm lucky. Do your social experiments, figure out what shoe fits best, then stay the hell away from me.
• You're brain dead. I'd like to speak my mind without eliciting a blank stare and drool from you. When I'm close to someone, I like speaking, and speaking my mind at that. If we're seated in the living room not speaking, and its not your first time there, you're in the wrong room.
• You're a corpse. Sex with you feels like necrophilia, move around a little, moan something, change your facial expression - pretend to be alive. If I'm quiet after that, I'm most likely wondering how the hell you got here. And if I'm looking at my hands, I'm just wondering what you can do that they can't.
• You have the personality of a deer formerly in headlights - where the headlights were of a subaru with a compromised braking system. We probably met in a noisy place where your dance moves and facial expression were remotely appealing. I can safely assure you that this is the last time we're meeting, and that's not a good backdrop to beginning a relationship.
• You're loose. You may need to wear a diaper in a few years, but for now, you probably walk around with a pose to flatter your ASSets and truncate the last vowel of all swahili words. Or you may be an uptowner with psychological issues best dealt with in the sack. I'm sure you're a reservoir of skill, but I like my 'meat' rare, not well done.
• You're shady. A village goodbye ceremony preceded your coming to the city, and you had a neckache the first few nights from looking at 13 storey buildings. I spent my first few years in the outskirts of Nairobi (albeit in another province) but I do insist on a minimum level of sophistication - I'm vain like that. In exceptional circumstances I will forgive an accent, but I have white friends too and I'd not like to have to act as interpreter.
• You're fat.
• You're a child. I like them young, but could you look like a teenager without acting and sounding like, [or being] one? I don't want to feel like I'm babysitting, and I don't want to think of you every time I'm discussing with my married colleagues about "children nowadays".

I'm not through hating, but I'm bored with this post already, and I think you may also be getting there.

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