~What is it about this one that has my fantasies in overdrive? Is it the denial that the all so soft all so cute Esther is not such a holy holy after all? Or is it the death of the dream that I would be the one to ruin her life?
I have had fantasies about others…namely Alyssa Milano and that sweet thing Megan fox, who unlike Esther who farts designer perfume, farts sunshine. And why is the author so obsessed with what these hot girls fart? That’s a mystery for another day…ahem! ~
Previously on the Esther Arunga mysteries:
“I quit this stupid station, they don’t pay me enough”
“WHAT!!! But Esther, it’s your life you’re giving up, think of the children!”
“Damnit, it’s a TV station…Hellon’s finger beckons…frankly the ‘come-hither-motion’ brings me faster, if you know what I mean!…ta ta freaks!!”
*******************************
Now the continuing saga:
Curious as to what was going on, I sought audience with Esther and Hellon to get to the root of this mystery. But I decided to wait it out until the bigwig media were done and out of earshot, before digging in.
ME: Hello Esther.
ESTHER: Ben, didn’t think you’d show your face here.
ME: Just heard about that Timberlake thing…is it true?
ESTHER: What do you think?
ME: What about us Esther? What about the night we had…(Hellon looks at her curiously)
ESTHER: *ahem* You stupid fag, not here! fyi I read that note bout me…you’re lucky I’m not suing you for 30 million. You promised!
ME: You also promised it would be only me and you baby! Now look! Besides, if I was a fag I’d be having this conversation with Hellon!
HELLON:(winks) You don’t say…
ME: Geez! You sick fuck! I always knew you were gay!
HELLLON: Wtf! I have a wife!!!!
ME: Good cover! Btw, that thing with the supernova and the palm…I’m curious.
ESTHER: Ask away!
ME: Is the supernova thing a reference to an exploding star or your coming… And the palm, are you pointing out how many fingers you can take in at once…coz if I remember right…last I checked it was only two!
ESTHER: BEN!!!!
HELLON: What is he talking about?
ESTHER: Nothing dear, he’s just a delusional groupie…you know how they are with their fantasies and celebs! Isn’t that right ben!
ME: (muttering to myself)*the nerve on this one*…you want me to say I’m delusional? Fuck, you’re more stupid that I’d estimated!
ESTHER: Me stupid? Who the hell do you think you are? Nothing smart has ever come out your lips, you know that…NOTHING! And the stuff you write…CRAP!!!
ME: You dumb bimbo!!! The smartest thing to come out of your mouth was my dick!!!
HELLON: he he he!
ESTHER: The fuck you laughing at? You’re supposed to be on my side! And you Ben, what do you want!
ME: I just want to know, who’s making you do this? It’s not like you!
ESTHER: What do you want me to say? I love him; he knows how to touch a woman!
ME: What are you implying? Besides, he’s in jail…it doesn’t even make sense. He’s most likely Onyi’s bitch by now… He’s more likely to hook up with Hellon now…
HELLON:(hissing) Dude…don’t even go there!
ME: Oops, sorry man….secret’s safe with me!
HELLON: Asshole!
ME: That’s not cool man…down boy…you know I’m straight!
HELLON :( Throws arms in gesture of giving up, and turns to Esther) Don’t know how you’re putting up with this guy!
ME: Are you doing an inside story?
At this point she grabs me and pulls me to the side out of Hellon’s earshot!
“Wtf Ben, I’m about to nail the biggest story of my career, please don’t ruin it for me, sawa? I’ll call you in the evening and explain everything!”
“Are you screwing Timberlake?”
“Like you said, the asshole is in jail, what do you think?”
“Ok”
“I’ll make it up to you, promise. But not now”
We walk back to the conference table where Hellon is looking at her curiously.
ESTHER: I’ve set him straight.
HELLON: Good, we need to come up with another party tune and I need you to practice it. That performance in front of the media was embarrassing and too painful to watch.
ME: You could say that again*snicker*
ESTHER: Fuck you ben!
ME: The mouth on this one! Anyhoo gotta go people…can’t say it was a pleasure!
HELLON: Good riddance…
ME: This coming from a Lumumba wanna-be!
HELLON: What?
ME: Nothing…nothing… Bye Esther!
ESTHER: Yeah, bye.
*******************************
I left that interview feeling I knew better than most people. The media is just taking us for a ride with the whole fiasco. Maybe they are trying to distract us from something else. Derailment of the draft constitution maybe?
In the evening I waited until 10, and still she hadn’t called. I took my phone, flipped through the contacts and came to her name. I took a deep breath and hit the dial button…
“Mteja wa nambari uliopiga, hapatikani kwa sasa”
~the mystery continues~
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Lookie here, smells bipolar
About one and a half years ago i was diagnosed with something called bipolar disorder. I took it for granted to say the least. Look at it from my point of view; I’d been living my life comfortably without any more worries than the normal 20sth year old. I mean when you have a healthy campus experience, a well-paying job and crazy friends, what is there to worry about?
Anyway the real reason i went to see a shrink was to just verify i didn’t have MPD or some shit like that. My two worst fears are going crazy or losing my memory...though if i lost my memory, how would i know I’m scared of it in the first place? It kind of took him a long time to figure out what was up because we didn’t know what we were looking for in the first place, and i figured he was a quack.
He had several questions, you know the things the shrinks usually ask, did you have a happy childhood, how was your life as a teen, your interaction with friends and members of the opposite sex, whether i was in a relationship, how long they lasted; very intrusive questions, but I’m an open book.
He brought out hidden demons, things that I’d suppressed like the episodes of extreme mental and physical bullying i underwent as a teen newly joined a seminary, the accusations of being a homosexual, which were so bad my best friend had to change schools. The bullying wasn't so bad since in my head everyone went through it. The homosexual references were; i almost got confused about my sexuality! But it took a classmate cornering me one night during a blackout to make me realize, I’m not attracted to guys not at all! Till now no guy can put a friendly arm around my shoulder without creeping me out completely! But that is how i came to tolerate gays because i have a good idea what discrimination they go through.
In terms of ideal conditions for bipolar disorder, my life is the primordial soup.
Anyway relationships have not been easy for me. I remember of accusations of being two sided and at extreme levels a pretender. This one close friend, with whom we'd been off and over the years, once sat me down and told me her fears about me. She told me that sometimes i behave like two different people; I can be this great guy most of the time, and at other times I'm broody and angry and she can't guess what I’ll do next. I guess that shocked me.
But there is one relationship that has stood the test of time, the one with my best friend; lets for the sake of this blog entry refer to her as Miz Lox. Miz Lox is the only person in my life who has faced the worst of what the bipolar in me can bring, and actually stayed. If i recall the nasty things I’ve said or accused her of during my many rapid cycling periods of anger, rage and depression, i have to admit, if i was her i wouldn't have stuck around. You have to realize there are times i told her i never want to see her again, or how i thought she was using me. I hate even to think of the emotional toil she goes through because sometimes she can’t even tell where that came from. Yet despite that she manages the energy to tell me to "go fuck yourself", then calls or comes to check up on me.
As a result i love her to death for that and i bet she knows that i appreciate her with all the goodness that i can muster from my heart, because truth be told, there is no way i can ever repay her.
The other meaningful relationship in my life didn't go that well. I guess i have never understood how i always seem to screw it up time and time again. Each of those times corresponding to a bipolar episode and not of the manic kind, the rage type. I want to explain that it’s really hard for me to notice when I’m going through any of these episodes. It’s easy to identify when it’s a mood of depression, but the rest are hard to realize.
The last time it corresponded to the episode brought on by being mugged at knife point, the mixture of fear and emasculation. Anyway I don’t even know how to get her to realize, without coming off as rude, that it’s not about her, she just happened to be the nearest person when i was lashing out. I tend to brood and magnify something that is not there, to horrific proportions and there is a chance I might say something i don't mean. I can come out looking like am judgmental or critical of something about somebody and say something i wouldn't normally do when I’m sober, drunk or stoned. But i try not to think about her in that context because I’ll end up beating myself up over it which will get me depressed leading to regression. So i just focus on the good things about her and hope she'll come around and understand with time.
Family has not been spared either. I especially pity my mum. Just because i was diagnosed with bipolar recently doesn’t mean i didn’t have the episodes before. I mentioned earlier about the bullying and extreme pressure. At the same time my relationship with my dad had deteriorated... Anyway unlike now when all i get is a broody episode or say something nasty I don’t mean, back then i used to have suicidal tendencies. My mom couldn’t understand the wild episodes and it took a toll on her since she thought i got possessed or something. The things i accused her of! Damn! Mothers go through so much for the sake of their kids and in the hands of their kids. Where do they get that type of strength from?
In primary school i once swallowed a whole packet of what i thought was valium in an attempt to kill myself. As it turned out the valium were the ones next to what i took. It was in seminary that i finally stopped with the attempts, mostly because Catholics believe suicide is a one way ticket to hell. So all through the bullying i had to contend myself with just the thought of death. But hey, since the actual episodes happened only once or twice a year, it was cool, i survived.
I have found a balance of kinds of dealing with it, but it’s not like i have much of a choice, since i'll probably have this condition for the rest of my life; plus i want to keep from having to use the happy pills for as long as possible. So i make sure that whenever I’m in low spirits or a bad mood i avoid everyone, calls, texts, IMs or inboxes.
In addition i have to state that bipolar is in no way an excuse for anything i may do and i am responsible and accountable for all my actions, good or bad.
Anyway, for the most part i'm normal me and i love life with all the zeal of an adrenalin junkie, so as long as i keep my stress levels to a minimal i am AWESOME!
********************
Anyway the real reason i went to see a shrink was to just verify i didn’t have MPD or some shit like that. My two worst fears are going crazy or losing my memory...though if i lost my memory, how would i know I’m scared of it in the first place? It kind of took him a long time to figure out what was up because we didn’t know what we were looking for in the first place, and i figured he was a quack.
He had several questions, you know the things the shrinks usually ask, did you have a happy childhood, how was your life as a teen, your interaction with friends and members of the opposite sex, whether i was in a relationship, how long they lasted; very intrusive questions, but I’m an open book.
He brought out hidden demons, things that I’d suppressed like the episodes of extreme mental and physical bullying i underwent as a teen newly joined a seminary, the accusations of being a homosexual, which were so bad my best friend had to change schools. The bullying wasn't so bad since in my head everyone went through it. The homosexual references were; i almost got confused about my sexuality! But it took a classmate cornering me one night during a blackout to make me realize, I’m not attracted to guys not at all! Till now no guy can put a friendly arm around my shoulder without creeping me out completely! But that is how i came to tolerate gays because i have a good idea what discrimination they go through.
In terms of ideal conditions for bipolar disorder, my life is the primordial soup.
Anyway relationships have not been easy for me. I remember of accusations of being two sided and at extreme levels a pretender. This one close friend, with whom we'd been off and over the years, once sat me down and told me her fears about me. She told me that sometimes i behave like two different people; I can be this great guy most of the time, and at other times I'm broody and angry and she can't guess what I’ll do next. I guess that shocked me.
But there is one relationship that has stood the test of time, the one with my best friend; lets for the sake of this blog entry refer to her as Miz Lox. Miz Lox is the only person in my life who has faced the worst of what the bipolar in me can bring, and actually stayed. If i recall the nasty things I’ve said or accused her of during my many rapid cycling periods of anger, rage and depression, i have to admit, if i was her i wouldn't have stuck around. You have to realize there are times i told her i never want to see her again, or how i thought she was using me. I hate even to think of the emotional toil she goes through because sometimes she can’t even tell where that came from. Yet despite that she manages the energy to tell me to "go fuck yourself", then calls or comes to check up on me.
As a result i love her to death for that and i bet she knows that i appreciate her with all the goodness that i can muster from my heart, because truth be told, there is no way i can ever repay her.
The other meaningful relationship in my life didn't go that well. I guess i have never understood how i always seem to screw it up time and time again. Each of those times corresponding to a bipolar episode and not of the manic kind, the rage type. I want to explain that it’s really hard for me to notice when I’m going through any of these episodes. It’s easy to identify when it’s a mood of depression, but the rest are hard to realize.
The last time it corresponded to the episode brought on by being mugged at knife point, the mixture of fear and emasculation. Anyway I don’t even know how to get her to realize, without coming off as rude, that it’s not about her, she just happened to be the nearest person when i was lashing out. I tend to brood and magnify something that is not there, to horrific proportions and there is a chance I might say something i don't mean. I can come out looking like am judgmental or critical of something about somebody and say something i wouldn't normally do when I’m sober, drunk or stoned. But i try not to think about her in that context because I’ll end up beating myself up over it which will get me depressed leading to regression. So i just focus on the good things about her and hope she'll come around and understand with time.
Family has not been spared either. I especially pity my mum. Just because i was diagnosed with bipolar recently doesn’t mean i didn’t have the episodes before. I mentioned earlier about the bullying and extreme pressure. At the same time my relationship with my dad had deteriorated... Anyway unlike now when all i get is a broody episode or say something nasty I don’t mean, back then i used to have suicidal tendencies. My mom couldn’t understand the wild episodes and it took a toll on her since she thought i got possessed or something. The things i accused her of! Damn! Mothers go through so much for the sake of their kids and in the hands of their kids. Where do they get that type of strength from?
In primary school i once swallowed a whole packet of what i thought was valium in an attempt to kill myself. As it turned out the valium were the ones next to what i took. It was in seminary that i finally stopped with the attempts, mostly because Catholics believe suicide is a one way ticket to hell. So all through the bullying i had to contend myself with just the thought of death. But hey, since the actual episodes happened only once or twice a year, it was cool, i survived.
I have found a balance of kinds of dealing with it, but it’s not like i have much of a choice, since i'll probably have this condition for the rest of my life; plus i want to keep from having to use the happy pills for as long as possible. So i make sure that whenever I’m in low spirits or a bad mood i avoid everyone, calls, texts, IMs or inboxes.
In addition i have to state that bipolar is in no way an excuse for anything i may do and i am responsible and accountable for all my actions, good or bad.
Anyway, for the most part i'm normal me and i love life with all the zeal of an adrenalin junkie, so as long as i keep my stress levels to a minimal i am AWESOME!
********************
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Nairobbery: Tales from Githurai
It was a beautiful sunny day and i'd just received good news, that i was going to graduate come July. For those not up to date on my news, i have spent the whole of this year just trying to get that stupid piece of paper. So here i am having finished all my precious savings, justifying my decision to use those Githurai buses that charge ksh 10 only for the whole trip over the 60ksh matatus.
So I had just sent a text to a buddy and was about to alight. Anybody who has been through Githurai can describe the terminus as a filthy affair of people, mud, ditches and rubbish. In an unusual action, and later to be a good sense of fortitude, i threw my phone onto my laptop bag, which in another fortunate turn didn't contain my laptop.
when i got off, i made it a couple of steps before i felt somebody grab my hand and walk really really close to me. Two other guys flanked me on the other side and i felt something pressed against my ribs...thankfully(if i may say so) it wasn't a gun...it was a knife...talk about between a rock and a hard place.
The guy grasping my hand asks for cash and hints he has a gun, and goes to the extent of informing me they are 'native' to githu and can disappear just like that. I really really wanted to call their bluff but it occurred to me that if they weren't bluffing I'd most certainly die for nothing. Risking my life by snorkeling among sharks and other extreme sports is worthwhile, but dying because of a stupid ego thing that is just plain dumb.
My sensei would turn over in his grave, though i doubt he would call me a little pussy, if he saw me there being all docile and shit. When he was passing the martial arts skills to us he was teaching us how to defend ourselves and beat the crap out of bigger guys. Though he refused to teach us how to use the numchucks and close combat knife fights! Still pissed over that, though i understand why, we used to go overboard with our spurring, which is how i dislocated both toes and broke three ribs(and i was the lucky one)!
The big question now. Where was everybody else as i was being mugged? Answer: Looking on or pretending not to notice. Nairobians are a funny bunch...they dont realize they might be next and maybe nexts time they will be one ending up in a ditch dead, or sprawled over the railway, a sacrifice to the morning train.
Anyway they frisked my pockets and took out about a K and missed my phone by a mile. They hid the knife and merged into the crowd. Still very much shaken and emasculated, i made my way to K.U. almost ignored a call from a friend who'd seen my tweet because i didnt want to talk to anybody. That was about four days ago. And that little incident triggered a bipolar episode...that led to a really big screw up, which is a story for another day.
So I had just sent a text to a buddy and was about to alight. Anybody who has been through Githurai can describe the terminus as a filthy affair of people, mud, ditches and rubbish. In an unusual action, and later to be a good sense of fortitude, i threw my phone onto my laptop bag, which in another fortunate turn didn't contain my laptop.
when i got off, i made it a couple of steps before i felt somebody grab my hand and walk really really close to me. Two other guys flanked me on the other side and i felt something pressed against my ribs...thankfully(if i may say so) it wasn't a gun...it was a knife...talk about between a rock and a hard place.
The guy grasping my hand asks for cash and hints he has a gun, and goes to the extent of informing me they are 'native' to githu and can disappear just like that. I really really wanted to call their bluff but it occurred to me that if they weren't bluffing I'd most certainly die for nothing. Risking my life by snorkeling among sharks and other extreme sports is worthwhile, but dying because of a stupid ego thing that is just plain dumb.
My sensei would turn over in his grave, though i doubt he would call me a little pussy, if he saw me there being all docile and shit. When he was passing the martial arts skills to us he was teaching us how to defend ourselves and beat the crap out of bigger guys. Though he refused to teach us how to use the numchucks and close combat knife fights! Still pissed over that, though i understand why, we used to go overboard with our spurring, which is how i dislocated both toes and broke three ribs(and i was the lucky one)!
The big question now. Where was everybody else as i was being mugged? Answer: Looking on or pretending not to notice. Nairobians are a funny bunch...they dont realize they might be next and maybe nexts time they will be one ending up in a ditch dead, or sprawled over the railway, a sacrifice to the morning train.
Anyway they frisked my pockets and took out about a K and missed my phone by a mile. They hid the knife and merged into the crowd. Still very much shaken and emasculated, i made my way to K.U. almost ignored a call from a friend who'd seen my tweet because i didnt want to talk to anybody. That was about four days ago. And that little incident triggered a bipolar episode...that led to a really big screw up, which is a story for another day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)