Friday, October 29, 2010

Change and moving on; what to keep, what to discard

I'm not really that self centered. I love myself just about as much as everybody else loves themselves, except when i'm in the funk(new word i picked up to denote the bipolar depression phase). I just like to illustrate what i'm talking about using personal experiences.

We have all experienced major changes in our lives, we have moved residence, school and personality, relationship, and in all this moving we've had a change in environment, met new people and had self realization moments. In lieu of all this change how do you know what to keep and what to discard?
Last year i lost somebody i really liked, not lost like in they died or moved, but lost in detaching emotionally. We had known each other for years, longer than i've known most of my friends in campus. We had attained the type of closeness gossip media would refer as "cozy".
I guess i'd been so used to having her around i never imagined i could just break all connections with her. Then sometime in april she did what i like to call "mortal sin" -not the catholic one- and she was dead to me. In an unrelated event, back then, my bestfriend was still just a good friend, even though we had a strong connection i wasn't ready to explore it by then.
Complacency is always a stumbling block in moving on, because we are so used to it we ignore change yet the current conditions we live in are no longer useful and actually hinder our continuity and development.
I'm not saying that that friend was useless, i'm saying it had reached a point where i was there for her more than she was for me. I know critics will argue about the selfless nature of friendship and not expecting anything back. I say, there is something called leeching. I guess i don't see the point where i sustain your emotional wellbeing and all you give back is bitchiness arrogance and a whole load of bullshit. We mended fences and are still friends but she knows she's never going to have whatever she had then back because she fucked up and i moved on. I mention her because she was the primary reason i found out what my best friend is made of. Pity they've never met.

2010 has proved to be the fucked up of them all. This has been the year i was dumped, had to quit the job i'd had for over two years, became bankrupt, and lost friends i'd known for years.
Losing my gf was the single most painful thing i've experienced in my life. A part of me was taken out and killed in the worst most horrible way. For months i avoided friends and family because i'd been reduced to nothing. At work i was a zombie, i'd clock in as early as i could and leave as late as i could, so much so i never even realized a colleague took advantage and robbed me thousands till way later when nothing could be done to recover it. How did i move on?
Baby steps. I had to first get peace with myself and love myself, a process that took months since it triggered a sleeping demon in my mind called the funk. It was a process that forced me to make changes in my life, shift priorities and i made it out alive. Usage of the word stronger would be wrong. Something died, taking a chunk of my personality with it; a lot of the spontaneity, daring and flirty, but i lived. I have been in other mini relationships since then but my detachment is kind of high, an example of the wrong type of change, since i usually walk away without as much as a phonecall to say i'm leaving you. Its much easier for me to walk away now which is actually a double edge sword, on one hand i can't get hurt, on the other, maybe i'm missing out on something good.

I've lost friends too, in most cases it was just a case of betrayal, something i'd have reacted to in prior years by just taking out a large chunk of the trust but keep the friendship going. But stealing from me by taking advantage of me being dumped was low and not forgivable. I'm not mad, i just pity anyone who can do that, i could easily get even, but why bother?
Losing somebody i loved and many of my friends was rough, but it just showed how strong i could be. I'm still not totally recovered but i try to live each day positively and take the challenge to make new better friends. One thing i chose to keep is my best friend, i know i've mentioned her a lot, but that girl is full of surprises, the good kind. I'll always adjust my life to accommodate her.
As i try get back my charm, spontaneity and general good humour, i just pray to God i make the right kind of decisions, for in the way of new experiences lie many hurdles and beartraps, and as you make new friends you need an old friend you can trust to walk with you and share.

Friday, October 22, 2010

Is he planning to rape you : Part 1 - Prelude

In my snug little world deep deep in the reaches of the mind where the normal ben tried to find himself and unfortunately got lost, indefinitely, leaving me to cover for his absence, a job I'm increasingly getting tired of each day, i often talk to my apprentice as i guide him on how he will take over when i too lose it and hide in the forest hidden deep in the reaches of the mind.
A question he bothers me a lot with is about the origin and purpose of it all, the universe, life and religion. I usually just shrug and tell him, nobody is even sure what the question is.
So the next commonly asked question is, "Master, I've heard of horrors like anal rape, how do i do my best to avoid it?"
"Good question young one. Rape in all its forms is detested and frowned upon in the real world, and there is never any situation that is light enough for you to ever EVER joke about rape, EVER! I know its tempting in your own little mind to do something, write a satirical blog entry about rape titled something along the lines of 'Is he planning to rape you'."
"So, what are you doing on the phone?"
"i' a text to a friend, absolutely no blogging is going on!"
"Can i see what you are doing?"
"No, its personal"
"Huh? U do know how ridiculous that sounds, right?"

Forgive that back and forth, my head tends to get crowded at times. Anyway back to the headline: how as a guy, to know your friend(s) or stranger(s) is/are planning to rape you. Ironically though, is where i pulled this whole thing out of.
As we all know, rape is usually done by somebody close to you. Whether they mean this literally proximity wise, residential, friend wise or from a genetic standpoint is all entirely debatable(elsewhere - Editor)... my money is on proximity though...doesn't get any closer than that. Bottom line is, as much as they say keep your enemies closer, you'd pretty much be better off if they were dead or at least tied up in your basement unconscious. I mean, being close to your enemies is a bit of an oxymoron, wouldn't you have a better time partying with your friends than by doing something like playing Russian roulette with a herd of angry horny buffaloes pissed at you because you killed the last female bovine on earth to sate your craving for a soft burger, this after milking her then later accidentally knocking over the bucket in front of the hapless (male)calf. The buffaloes are even more agitated since (a)they saw the photos, because you put them on facebook and, like an idiot, tagged the calf, and (b) they cant release themselves on account of having hooves not palms. So now you are stuck in a room with a bunch of sweaty straight animals facing the grim reality that not only are you single handedly responsible for the extinction of hooved mammals, but you are still the reason they will go the dodo way having engaged in not so straight activity of gratification, where some of them are now exposed to the imminent and probably inevitable danger of anal rape, because genetics lent them the backhand and gave them slightly effeminate features and balls that from afar look like rather nice B cup udders. To worsen the situation in your keep my enemies closer policy, you probably let them put in the bullet into the revolver as an act of good faith and volunteered to go first, not realizing just how pissed they are at you, hence filled ALL the chambers with the nasty hollow-points.
Point is, there should be this line for friends, just at the edge where the bomb proof glass ends, and that line just over the horizon is where the enemies should be tied up and locked.
So, at what point should your alarms be rigged to scream 'run for the hills' or 'molestation alert'? Its actually quite simple as you will find out in this 10step program to mitigate anal rape...though mitigate implies its a tad too late for prevention. These steps shall be presented in form of instructions, scenarios or whatever the author sees fit to equate as a point...
By now you are nearing the the end of the article and somewhere at the back of your head a small warning is going off "wait a second, the paragraphs left don't seem like they can hold 3 leave alone 10 points on how to avoid rape" and here i agree. What has been inflicted upon you is commonly referred to as Intellectual Rape, where 15minutes(depending on reading speed) of your life are taken from you by an author who is writing merely for the sake of filling words on a screen having put up an enticing heading and baits you here and there with an interesting, yet entirely useless anecdote to ensure you get to the end. But i assure you this is not the case here where I'll draw your attention to the heading which has been appended with "Prelude".
This leads to:
Step 1: Avoid being Baited
Human beings being of flesh are vulnerable to psychological manipulation along the lines of conditioning. This not being a class, rather a How-To manual of sorts I'd direct your attention to Pavlov and his experiments...go on..Google it.
Anyway here is the scenario here:
Boy1 likes boys. Boy1 lives in closet. Boy1 meets boy2 who likes girl but wants a boy friend(not boyfriend) to meet over drinks and just talk of girls, conveniently avoiding part where girl keeps boy2's jewels in her handbag. Disappointed, boy1 plays along and befriends boy2. Boy1 conditions boy2 to associate escaping nagging girl by drinking into a stupor and blacking out in boy1's pad. Boy1 secretly rubs hands in glee and looks at the calendar as date he is supposed to move to new job in new country approaches. Boy2 is clueless.
So you see nobody is safe. In the next entry we cover Steps 2 - Step 10 and the conclusion

Just a boy

I come to you as me. In front of you stands a boy who wishes to be referred to as a man. In all aspects he is a man, he has the facial hair, the other hair, a voice not especially adapted to whispering and the man sized clothing he wears.
Inside is a boy ravaged, buffeted and tormented by the forces of the world into a shell...his own little world where he growls and lashes at most who dare approach, an animal, a savage beast taught that amiability only leads to extermination, yet still a little boy, with all the dreams and aspirations of other little boys, of money, freedom and yes, love.
In front of you stands a man, once a beast, now a boy. In his eyes, the reflection of the pain that made a beast of him, and a glow, at the sight of she who gave the love that melted the pelt and dimmed the storm. On his lips, the trembling. Words struggling to get out and express the soul now eternally open to you. In his mind the will, eroded by time, to hide the fact that your will is his...the ultimate expression of whipped. In his heart, the love, that he never imagined could be held in what was once an empty crusty old useless thing. In his soul, the light, purity and warmth of forces too large and strong for him to encompass his mind around...yet still, just a boy.
In front of you stands a man, yet a boy. The last shred of protection gone. No projection of a man left, just a boy, scared of being alone, tired of torment and rejection.
A boy already aware the cloak of being a man has been taken away, by what lies in his heart. With the mess of his cloaks, the man and the beast, and their victims lying around he lifts his eyes to you. He came out of his shell for you, he shed his skins for you, and exposed himself for you. Just a boy, no words to express himself, not anymore, no clothing to flaunt to you, no fancy toys to show you, just the glow of pure love, and the longing for you to come to him, hug him and lift him from the wreckage that's his past, and help him grow anew into a man, your man!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

The call

Two days ago i got a really strange call from a guy we i shall henceforth refer to as John*. Strange, and i'll explain why.
*names haven't been changed because the author doesnt really care about John's identity
It was in the middle of the night, in a remote old town. Everyone was asleep and not a creature was stirring, except ben, who was taking another cup of cocoa and had just put in 5teaspoons of he was busy...stirring. Ok this part is not relevant to the story, and it wasn't midnight...more like 7pm ish. Anyway the phone rings from an unidentified number and since i'm not in the drug business i answered.
"Hi, am i talking to ben?"
"who's asking?"
"never mind, are you ben?"
"bye bye" and i hung up.
So, he calls again, this time more polite. He says his name is John and he wants to ask me about something important. Sure, i tell him, ask away. He does this thing that is peculiar to old men in Things fall apart, where they beat around the bush and by the time they get to the point you are at the threshold of telling them where to shove it.
Apparently John is dating this girl, Jane*. They have been dating for the last 8...EIGHT YEARS! I am about to tell him to hold the line as i take listener comments...since the call starting to sound something akin to late night capital...or nowadays, mid morning radio. So i make a gesture of "go on", though now that i mention it i realize he didn't see it.
names have been changed because she probably knows where the author resides...but it rhymes with plo
So he asks me if i know her, and if i'm dating flo...i mean Jane... Nope, i didnt bother to produce further information because he asked,"are you dating jane" instead of a more specific question like,"Have you dated jane at any time within the last 8years, more specifically when you were 19, and had a 3way with her and her best friend at one time?"
So the poor soul continues to tell me how he suspects she is cheating and how he is just calling to make sure of that and wants to make a decision... I'm assuming the decision here is whether to kill her then himself, or torture her, kill her then himself. Because from my point of view, 8years is practically a decade, i'v lived for just about two of those, meaning he has been in 1 relationship for just about a third of my head hurts...thats a lot of math. Pushing the calculation further, i dated her for sometime before i got into campus so if i subtract those years it comes to...cheating bitch! Not on my part though, i was pretty happy enough to get laid those days. I left when the L word was sprung, because that was just scary...then.
Anyway john, soon to be famous on the news, asks if we could meet and discuss it further. But first things first, i had to know how he came about my number. You see, i'm not in the habit of sending out mush texts and i figure the last time i talked to her was early this year, the last time i sent her a text was over 2years ago, so it really doesn't make sense. Though i guess when he was secretly snooping through her phone he was drawn to my name...everything about me screams AWESOMENESS. Serious, even when i litter, the sweeper always finds himself pausing over my garbage for a bit and can't understand why. I ooze awesomeness and can't help it...pity girls dont notice it. I guess its the geeky clark kent effect...thats a mystery for another entry.
Anyway by now i was bored and he'd started bitching about how hard it is when you are dating a hot chick, since everybody also notices and tries to get her... He was close to tears which was pretty awkward for me so i told him shit happens and went to hang up.
He ended by asking me not to tell her because it might screw things between them...i choked on my saliva at that. So i hinted that 2k gives me amnesia...guess he didnt get the hint coz as of the publishing of this entry, nothing in my mpesa account...yep...bone dry.
Moral of the story: Shit happens, and most men are stingy bastards