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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