Death to santa IV: it's never that serious

Dear diary,
It has been an eventful year...no thanks to Santa, that no good, lying, non existent son-of-a-bitch. You know santa, you suck! Not even the lack lustre imagination of a demented twenty sth year old can give you life anymore.
2011 was a good year for me. It was a year for new things; new friends, new relationship, new home, new job, new medication. I'll expound presently.
In 2011 i continued to bleed friends from the seams. But i didn't mind it that much, there is only so much patience you can extend even to people who you've known since you were toddlers and when the fat lady sings, even childhood friendships gotta move to bygones *sigh*. Betrayal is like that crack in the mirror, overall the image may seem all bright and rosy, but you can't escape the fact that there's a freakin crack in the mirror. Good riddance to that trash.
Oh yeah, my best friend came back, though now she's no longer my best friend rather my good friend now... comparative and superlatives my dear watson... It's true a guy and a girl can be best friends, but when you put a relationship in the mix you have to sacrifice one for the other. The only way you can have both is if you're in the relationship with your best friend. Semantics make my head hurt. See diary, i'm learning, seems the life lessons are far from over.
Did i mention i got a new job? Yeah, i did, the pay is on the iffy end of the scale, buh i love what i do because it expands and challenges my mind, and i'm not just saying that for the sake of it. The environment is great though sometimes i need time to breath and stifle that sense of panic and anxiety that builds up from time to time, though between my shrink, my girl and the bipolar medication the explosion is kinda sorted out...which segues us to the next new thing...
So i'm now on bipolar medication. After years of being on the fast dangerous lane all my systems were given a hard reboot and put on a slower pace. Am i agreeable to the treatment? Yes and no...t really. On one hand i hate having many of my 'normal' impulses dulled to the extent i think i'm actually becoming slow. On the other hand, i love this being in a stable relationship thing, which would normally not be possible with the runaway train that is my unmedicated mind. The problem with the meds is they don't provide you with a checklist where i tick the features i want deactivated and leave the ones i wanna keep, it's more of blanket smothering of all features. Ok, i admit i'm a bit biased against the meds because of what some of the side effects do to my body, but overall, my shrink was right, they have given me a richer life experience and i'm less likely to put myself in life threatening situations and stupid situations like walking out on things like my job. But the best thing about the meds, they took away the depression that plagued my life since the mental breakdown of 2009/2010. That is one thing i'm not ready to go through again! Viva la medication!
Did i mention that i stopped being reckless in all aspects? I didn't? Nowadays i look both ways before crossing the road, i'm unlikely to do random hook ups with girls i barely know and best of all i do this because i'm looking out for what's best for me! Last year i didn't have that self preservation urge! So it's a big step for me!
Finally, my friends, i know i rarely make outgoing calls but i do appreciate, especially the ones that come through when i ask for their help. Ok it's kinda hard to be mushy when the music playing in my background has shifted from lady antebellum to 'rudia' by kenrazy...rudia ndio term tuli-use na kila kitu ika-go cool...ni vipi, maze jo sikulala, nilitoka straight bado nikaenda kusaka, bahati mbaya nikapata niliyemg'amu, akanicheki hakuamini akashangaa akaniita akaniuliza 'nini mbaya?' nilipofika nikaona izo mapaja, macho haina pazia, nikaona mpaka mbaha, tukabonga alafu tukarudia... Ok, love is gonna save us by benny benasi is now playing.
Where was i before i got distracted? Oh, yeah, friends are like urine, everyone can see the stain, but only you know the warmth...ha! I really do appreciate my pals and i know i sometimes make them walk eggshells around me and i'm extra cautious but it passes with time. I'll quote somebody, i forget his name, who said, 'Lord, protect me from my friends, i can deal with my enemies!' Ok, if no famous philosopher said that, i'll claim it for my own...
I have made numerous friends this year, more than i can count on both hands, met many awesome people, had laughs and go-fuck-yourself moments. We've had fun, partied 'like we just don't care' and in general brought the house down. The story behind the eggshells needs a whole blog entry so i'll expound that in its own time in a different post.
Finally, diary, as i wind up. I've been mentioning in passing the relationship. I'm thankful for this one person who stood by me through all the stress, tears and confusion that comes with having a boyfriend with(had) multiple personas, especially when they overlapped, exercerbated each other to create horrible combinations. Lord knows the pain that came with that and the endurance required. She is Godsent. Here's a toast to less turbulent times.
And finally, in this entry that is less hating on santa and more on what i'm thankful for, my family. Fate stuck them with one helluva fuck up but they've endured him admirably, hehe. I'm happy to have them.
2011 was a year of mixed blessings and a whole load, and then some, better than 2010. Here's to 2012 being a rockstar haven for Ben and co!
Happy new year â mes amies!
Signing out officially on 2011, Ben

You've got to find what you love

This is a prepared text of the Commencement address delivered by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, on June 12, 2005. 

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.

The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

For mpesa the one testicled man was king

Sometime i really get frustrated at a little something called protocol. I know the title may be termed as a tad misleading but i got it from the saying "in the land of eunuchs, the one testicled man was king". Crass? It's about to go downhill then.[ps. i got both testicles intact]

In Kenya there is a money transfer system which has revolutionalized transactions and the way business is run. It has been termed brilliant and empowering and all that business "professional" bullshit. To me it also reflects the number gormless idiots live in this country. In the terms i directly used on some of them, a bunch of dumb fucks.

I understand how the system has helped businesses grow and i know how it has eased out the issue of unemployment(to a degree). I also get how it has helped the government in terms of tax, so that our stupid MP's get something more to waste. But some of the logic does not compute...in latin it's something along the lines of non sequitur(?).

Anyway, the part of the logic that fails me is when it comes to depositing. Since time immemorial when the first caveman offered shell storage services where other cavemen came to deposit their excess shells for storage till a rainy day, he never asked the cavemen to show their identifying rocks before depositing. Or biting a clay template or some shit like that. That habit was carried down over the centuries to todays banks where you aren't required to produce identifying documents to deposit money. I can't go into deeper details about why it isn't necessary except by saying banks earn from the money saved with them. They are gentlemen and have a limit to how far they will screw you...unless you are taking a loan or mortgage.

Today I forgot to carry my id....-fuck it-, i didn't forget to carry my ID. I am a  proud Kenyan and love my freedom so i never carry my id because i am free to walk around anywhere in this country without having to produce my identification documents to anyone. As long as I'm not infringing on anybody's rights so i have the right to do whatever the fuck i want to do whenever the heck i want. So i needed to send some cash urgently and hit the first vendor(that's what they're called, right?) and it was easy, didn't need documents but their float was several thousands less than what i needed to deposit, so i just deposited what was available and moved to the next one.
This is where i got ticked off. So the lady, a nice looking lady, kinda easy on the eyes, got around asking my number; i told her, asked me if i had an id, i shrugged. she looks at me and asks me whether i had my id, i told her no, coz i was making a deposit, not a withdrawal. She looks at me and without batting an eyelid tells me i cant make a deposit without my national identity card or passport. Without batting an eyelid i look at her squarely and told her to go fuck herself, turned and left. Ok, i didnt tell her to go fuck herself...ok i did.
At the next place i was a bit more open to reasoning with stupid people. So the conversation goes:
"hi[stupid people], i would like to deposit"
"K, you have your national id card"
*Shrugs*
"What's your number?"
"072 asterix asterix asterix...etc"
"Where's your id?"
"I don't need it"
"excuse me [finger snap] but you need your id to deposit"[ok, I've exaggerated]
"*bored face*i know the number off-head...it's my id ainnit?"
At this point i was bored, but i had already exhausted my weekly quota of "go fuck yourself"s so my attitude changed to something akin to patience. So i go:
"why do you need my id?"
"Because it's required"
"Yes, we've already established that[inner groan], i mean why do you need it?"
"To identify you"
"I have my health insurance card with me, acceptable in most institutions for identification purposes"
The last bit was drawn out in a duh kind of way...seriously! stupid people.
"When you are typing out your thing, do you enter my id number anywhere?"
"No, but we need it to know it is you who is depositing"
"huh? never mind. After you deposit to my number, what happens? On my side i get a confirmation text, yours?"
"We also get a confirmation text"
"Good, we're getting somewhere now!
"In that confirmation text...YOUR vendor confirmation text, is the id number featured anywhere?"
"No"
"So why do you need my id again?"
"[instead of a light bulb, a candle flickers somewhere in her TINY TINY brain only to get extinguished] To identify you"
"In this whole process why is my id needed when any identifying documents would suffice?"
"To know that it is you"
"[inner groan] Look here(stupid), i have a document whose names match the names returned in the confirmation sms. Isn't that enough? I mean, if i could fake the names in your confirmation sms wouldn't that mean the integrity of the whole mpesa process is compromised?"
"huh"
"i mean, it's not necessary to require an id to DE-PO-SIT[mouthed syllable by syllable for emphasis] money... even banks don't require that part! coz it's redundant!"
"We need your id to deposit money"
"You know what, GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!"
And i left.
For those who don't see the logic, or lack of it in this case...well maybe you're reading the wrong blog...perhaps... And i bid your farewell.
Keep safe

Write Thinking: Matatu Trip

This entry is kind of different since i'm doing it on the go. It's based on a style of writing i picked from a good friend.
The matatu i'm in inches forward. I look outside at the flyover being constructed by wu yi and co. It looks really stable but i can't help but note a flaw in the system but then again i'm not an engineer to determine the structure of struts, girders and all.
The matatu inches forward several meters. In the background they are playing kenny rogers' gambler. I think of trump cards and my thoughts stray to my girlfriend. Relationships have interesting dynamics. Personally, i usually avoided them because of all the emotional investment they require, meaning before you get into one you have to be triple, quadruple sure of the person you're doing it with. I am happy, some rough patches here and there, but it's all good.
Yaay, the traffic is moving at least. I look around the vehicle. I'm seated near the back so i have vantage position. I remember my shrink asking me about my fears. His question had been specific at first, 'Ben, in a matatu do you pick the vantage point maybe because you are scared of an accident and dying.'
Of course i told him as long as i'm not sitting between two people, i'm good to go. Of course by now he also knows i barely have any phobias. Self imposed shock therapy worked magic for me. Why i'm seeing a shrink is a story for another day.
The matatu is really eating the asphalt now. Progress. I look at the pretty girl in at the back and smile. No flirting. I'm smiling because the guy next to her has his pits next to her face. Smile is evil now...haha.
I think of my job. The paradox that is my personality comes into question over its usefulness. I don't know whether it is because i stayed so long without having my bipolar treated or what is the cause, but i am a child of two worlds. When my girlfriend calls me a geek, i always correct her and say half-geek. Reason being I'm at home in the forest or ocean depth(been there done all that) as well as behind a pc.
Back to my job. I know i love coding, the money in it may not be all that especially compared to alternative careers i could easily get into but i stay on for the love of the code. Coding is like poetry, but with methods and properties.
The outside is just a blur now and i think of my best friend (former). I recently realized i have more female friends than male. I guess it has something to do with having daddy issues. Though in retrospect as a kid i grew up with pretty girls all around me and i am used to getting hit on, though that is neither here or there since i'm write thinking(picked that from another friend).
15minutes and i'll be home. Been on the road for a little bit over half an hour now. Short journey.
Now onto me. I like this trip because i get to think. Sometimes i get too conscious of my being 'ergo tum'. It's not always a good thing, me reflecting over me, especially now that i've run out of meds and can't afford them for the next week or so. I'm usually too curious in testing the limits of my existence. I have this theory about death. It's really straight forward actually. If you are not scared of dying then you won't die. Sometimes i wonder, is it really that bad? I mean if the other side was so horrible wouldn't somebody have escaped and let out a warning before being dragged back. So yes, i believe in an afterlife. Life in itself is inexplicable, and i know this might be a fallacy, but the existence of life justifies the existence of an afterlife, cogito ergo sum. It is arguable whether all sentient beings continue on after they die but i believe animals also probably have a thereafter.
Anyway i've reached the end of my journey which means this session of write thinking is over.
Keep well my friends.

Whom Do You Believe In

Funny story where i got the topic for this entry. An episode of Tom and Jerry where tom had read in a book that a cornered mouse is harmless. Then got the crap beat out of him when he managed to corner jerry. Regardless of where i got the heading, this will be one of my more serious entries. Politics and things politician.
I dabble in the philosophy behind politics sometimes and upfront, my views may seem naive and one sided. But i represent a considerable chunk of the populace, the 20sth year olds with access to information and influenced by social networks, though i drew the line at planking. Most of the time when politicians refer to the youth, they mean me and like minded others.
What does politics mean to me and what influences my voting criteria? Politicians promise a lot of things, they come bearing words of development, jobs, and more money...same old things we heard them promise when we were kids but somehow when they get into power forces beyond them change their mindset and the people get nothing.
I have a job, i was lucky i didn't have to rely on politicians to get it otherwise i'd have been among the thousands of university students wasting away at home waiting on promises of a brighter future. At least i can safely say i'm no longer hustling, but thousands are and most are already in despair, and they are degree holders! But i'll skip that for now, i've established there is desperation among a large chunk of th population.
A question we ask all the time is how come we see the same old useless politicians getting voted into power all the time? Aren't people sick and tired of being the politician's bitch year after year as they rob the taxpayer's money? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with people(kenyans). Don't people get tired of seeing on the news the minister for agriculture or special needs ask 'what drought, who died?' When kenya gives Japan, a fucking DEVELOPED country, $1million there is no outcry.
My generation must be retarded or just plain stupid. Come voting time somebody will argue they won't vote because the same old leaders will come into power. Won't bother explaining the flaw in that argument.
My generation is the java generation, not the programming language, but the coffee place. My generation watches the news and is pissed at what the politicians are doing to our beautiful country. But that is soon forgotten. We'll sign an online petition and our duty to our country is done. My generation doesn't produce leaders it produces coffee zombies and sexual deviants. We are happy enough just to get laid and live like there is no tomorrow, like there are no diseases, like we won't have kids whom we would want to have a happy future and a country they'd be proud of. My generation loves twitter, tv series, spoken word and to fuck!
I admit this entry won't have a second draft and as such the ideas will not necessarily flow logically.
I'll go back to myself. I am a 20sth year old waiting to vote next year, my views represent the views of many of my peers. What am i looking for when picking who to vote for?
Age? Am i looking to vote for somebody closer to my age? My answer will be no. when i look at somebody like eugene all i see is a spineless little punk trying to ride the ghost of his dead brother and since spirits aren't tangible i see a little boy stumbling in the dark holding onto delusions of grandeur.
When i look at a politician like martha karua i have semblance of hope. Somebody determined to make a mark through actions not words. Instead of laying back and complaining 'oh, women aren't getting support because all the men have taken everything'(i don't like fida...cunts) she plays it as an equal. She may not have the money but she has that fighting spirit you can't help but love. Maybe she's lying through her teeth like everyone else but come tomorrow she is the one i'd most likely vote for, emphasis on 'most likely'. I have my doubts when it comes to some of the politicians she associates with like one mbuvi. But that is a story for another day.
Another politician that gets my interest is peter kenneth although i have big doubts over whether he can take the game to the big boys the way martha does. He would probably be my ideal candidate come 2017 but not 2012.
Anyway my decision is not based on tribe otherwise several others would appear but i refuse to contribute to their online presence by mentioning them especially one mr wiper. Anyway i've run out of characters since i'm on my phone so hopefully i'll fill in the missing blanks once i get to my laptop.
Keep well, vote wisely

1000 words: Trip to the ladies

There is really nothing wrong with having bodily functions and needs, so I have no idea what all the fuss about not mentioning them. They range from peeing, pooping, sneezing to eating etc. will focus on number 2 and a touch of number 1.

But I have to admit, guys know those two exist on women, but as far as we’re concerned, when women go to the ladies, they go to freshen up. We have often passed near those ladies rooms that haven’t been cleaned up in a while and there’s a bad odor coming from it, well that is because it’s the men’s toilet stinking up the next room. All that exists in a ladies’ toilet is the mirror, where all the freshening up is done; the sink where they may want to wash their hands in case extra make up drips on it (what? Who knows, maybe lipstick melts like chocolate); and the toilet bowl which is only used in those rare occasions where a the lady gets food poisoning or drinks a little bit too much and needs to drain off the extra alcohol through her mouth. So what is the nether region of a woman for? I guess the most important is sitting, copping a feel, and staring at when she doesn’t know you’re checking it out.

Anyway, yesterday I was caught up in a situation involving my bowels. Yes, men have bowels let this not be mistaken as an underhanded implication that women don’t have guts and mine happened to be full again don’t assume that I’m full of crap (dear Lord, stop with the intestine jokes already – Ed). Thing is I’m one of those people who are mentally limited to going number two in only a couple trusted bowls. Took me a few minutes (which seemed like days) to do a mental location of all verified loos within a non-stressful radius around the CBD and I located one.

A few minutes later, of careful walking so as not to have a more obvious embarrassing rapture, i was there and immediately headed to the gents. After a few second of gasping I finally made my way out. It was occupied and in use…hence the sudden loss of breath… that and the smell. When I got in in, this is what I found the previous occupant had left… To make the scene a little bit more serene I took out all the stains and wrapped the turds in neat little gift boxes.

As I walked out dejected and pressed I happened to glance into the ladies toilet and saw this And I got an idea, why not casually stroll in and check it out, purely reconnaissance. And it was magical. The loo was clean and nobody saw me go in so I figured since I was in there and there is no crime against it so why not end the agony. Finally my guts got reprieve. After a while there was movement outside the door, probably somebody adjusting their make-up, though she knocked to check if the loo was occupied. I just assumed that’s why girls go in twos into the loo, and since this one was alone she was just verifying so that she could have company. I knocked back and she stopped. Probably the comfort knowing there is somebody else in there.

I had the urge to cough and I held it down albeit with the greatest difficulty. Have you ever tried to cough like somebody else? Yeah nobody ever has to do that….except me at the time. Eventually I let out a cough and it was…stupid!

Lesson for today: use the toilet correctly! We don’t need that crap! Somebody could die from all the pressure

Ok let me just admit it…I just wanted to show off how well I can work illustrator skills. How would you rate your toilet?

Why men cheat

I'll begin with my usual disclaimers:

• This is going to be long so make sure you are seated or free from interruptions
  
• My opinions may seem biased sometimes but I try to tell it the way I see it though it may not always be agreeable or easily digested
  
• I may have left out several reasons an that's because i decided to focus on the main one that has become clear...sort of.
  
• Before any political correctness advice is shoved down my throat, I'll state I'm talking of hetero-relationships here, though the dynamics are generally the same all around.
  
• When I say "woman", I'm thinking "lady" unless you are not one so just ignore this point
  
• This entry is not titled "why women cheat" or "why people cheat" for a reason
  
• Finally; I'm not a specialist in relationships and neither is this a professional opinion, so I could be wrong on some aspects except the last sentence.
  

The reason I decided to focus this entry on cheating was brought about at a staff party where one of the guys mentioned several things I'd thought about but never really paid attention to since I assumed I was the only one who realized part of the problem.

My (our) generation is a special one. We live in a time where sex is no longer a taboo rather it's glorified in all its aspects and manifestations. It's still a time where you can't leave a child playing alone outside because sexual predators are everywhere now as a result of the liberal attitude towards sex. But that is beyond the scope covered here.

Cheating: each one of us probably knows somebody who was cheated on, is cheating on, or we've done it or been party to it. A lucky few have probably never experienced it directly or never knew about it; basically been on the friendlier side of ignorance. Now, my take on the whole cheating issue from my perspective as a young man still relatively untainted by the issue at hand. Part of it from observation, a small part experience, and a huge chunk from guys who cheat and know what they're talking about.

Men and aging

Men go through several stages in their lives, there is the stage you discover boobs, that women are soft smell nice and you like to touch them. It's at his point you have puppy love, crushes, get your heart cracked the first time, probably lose your virginity and generally start masturbating to pictures of naked women. The stage lasts through the teen years to the super early 20's.

The next stage happens in the 20's where most men start getting a little more serious in relationships. The not so smart ones jump into marriage -but you didn't hear me call them stupid-, likely shotgun in many and in others just youthful impulsiveness. Advice: don't get married yet; just get to know each other better, what is a 5year dating period if you are going to spend the rest of your lives together? Where was i? Oh yeah, they start getting a little serious in relationships and looking for the One.

By this stage most men have identified what characteristics would make the ideal woman for them. When asked what type of person they are looking to spend their lives with, they will give a detailed description; most likely because they have someone in mind. Thing is, this is also the stage when most men are making the foundation to their financial future, i.e. Hustling and getting their shit together.

The next significant stage is from 30-40 when he has achieved most of the financial freedom he was looking for and settles down, most likely with the ideal woman he described in the previous stage i.e. assuming she stuck around when he was still hustling. This is where many men are found to be cheating on their wives, divorces happen and generally really bad shit goes down.

Girls and pizza

Women age differently from men (hence the subtopic) and I'm not a woman so I won't get into that that much. I'll just state: men grow more attractive with age, while women just grow old, except for the lucky few. Inflammatory as this statement may seem, it's isn't intentional, just a little hard to swallow fact. As I move along you will come to realize that in an ideal universe the difference in aging is not really that important. I'll skim over some of the stages women go through nevertheless.

Teenage is that stage in a woman's life when she is most attractive. The boobs pass the pencil test easily because of all the glorious perkiness and men are constantly scratching at your front door wanting to get in. I guess it's still here where a woman realizes the power she has over them.

At 18 men can lay her without thoughts of jail and dropping the soap; clubs, booze and pizza/cake places become the norm. Basically she can and will exploit her sexuality to the maximum. The girls are impressionable and the idea of dating an older guy is kind of a thrill…the richer the better.

Young girls love pizza, even the ones who never grew up eating it; the only thing they love more than pizza is the guy who can afford to buy it for them constantly. Rarely will you see young women ordering pizza to-go; it's to be eaten there for it to taste better. It's the my-man-can-buy-me-shit phenomena and young men will stumble over each other trying to catch her attention using pastry and cheese.

Many women in their 30's have also usually achieved financial independence and looking to settle down. They have been aware their biological clocks are ticking for the last 2 or 3 years and the attention from men is waning because of the developing crow's feet yeah I said it and the fact that impressionable girls are hitting 18 every day bringing a lot of unfair competition. Oh, and they have friends who are married or getting married, probably with kids too. So there is some sort of pressure on them.

Men and love, women and money and why men cheat

A general consensus among women is that "men aint shit" especially among those who have been hurt by some men. If they said "some men aint shit" i guess I'd nod in agreement and probably give them a "there there" pat on the back.

A commonly unheard expression/topic is that one covering men and love. We rarely hear of men being in love nowadays, it's almost like a taboo. You will rarely come across a man's blog talking about love or how in love he is with somebody. So we can safely assume our generation consists of aloof, macho self-centered men whom women swoon all over seeking for their attention? You would be mistaken for thinking it's a crime in our generation for a guy to have emotions or feelings except those along the lines of laughter, anger or sadness. The expression "why you behaving like a woman" is actually used as an insult!

Let me break it down nicely, men have feelings. It actually stings a little when women say "men aint shit" because some of us are the shit…and urine. Men love with an unfathomable fire, just like a woman in love. When a man loves you he does it with every fibre of his being. It won't matter how old you are, how you look or dress as long as it's you. In his eyes you are the epitome of perfection and nothing anybody says or does can ever change that. He will let you step on his ego and use it for your doormat, and he will let you keep his testicles in your purse (not literally obviously). When a man loves you, he hands you the remote/control to his life; you may choose to screw with it or make it better. Whether he is miserable or happy will depend on you for the most part.

And no, when a man loves you there is no chance of him cheating on you because he lives to see you happy and there is no sacrifice too great…including giving up other women.

Women and money

Nobody likes to be poor, nobody!

Women like to be pampered and treated nice and all that but methinks they sometimes lose sight of the bigger picture. I know money can't buy happiness and that a hug can't pay bills; neither can you binge on junk and keep that curvy hourglass shape-without the bulimic quick fix-. Not the smartest metaphor(that second one), but my point is everything is always about finding that happy medium.

Nowadays, though, I've started to get convinced that is all most women think about, money and what a guy can buy for them. Guys are judged for the size of their wallet and not what he can give with his heart. It's "I'd rather weep in a palace than smile in a shack". Women constantly bitch about men treating them like objects yet when you look at it soberly, most of them DO go to the highest bidder. It is at this point that I will jump to the next topic that actually got you reading this entry in the first place:

Why men cheat

Like i said earlier, by their mid-20's most men have identified what they'd want in their ideal soul mate and probably have somebody in mind. Men love and can get hurt just as badly as women. The problem with this age though, is most women are very materialistic and as an unfortunate coincidence it's usually the time the man is kick starting his financial future. See where I'm leading?

So a situation arises where a man is seriously interested in a girl and even though she may be interested she discounts him as a potential partner based on his financial ranking. This is probably because she had that ideal in mind on the lifestyle she desires to have. Her having friends who date rich guys would probably tilt the odds against the suitor further because of the superficial perception over how her friends' lives have changed by dating rich men. So she ignores the guy who makes her happy for a guy who can buy her stuff but might not really appreciate her. There is a vicious cycle resulting from this process, you will note by the end.

Hearts heal, but they never love the same (most of the time), and the jilted young man will ,move on, hopefully with no hard feelings depending on how he was let go. Other girls will come who will see and appreciate him for what he is and in my ideal universe he will love her with the same passion he loved the first girl and it ends happily ever after. A person never forgets the person they truly loved; life never gives the easy way out. The ideal was set and it is imprinted in the subconscious mind, the guy will move on but he will date the girls who most closely resemble his dream girl-the one that got away. The girls won't realize it but he will try to change them to fit the image he had and when she fails, he moves on or strays.

During this time his financial standings have improved, from promotions and all that hustling paying off; and with age and money, comes the girls; remember what I said about the thrill young girls get from dating older men, plus the common misconception that older men are more mature -men never mature, mature men are just boring men trying to look serious. So this young man was jilted because he was poor, got his heart all broken but now he has all these women after him. He will let the money work for him, after all, wasn't that all you (women in general) were after all along? You see, without the emotional connection with a woman the only thing that would actually potentially keep a man from cheating would be his morals, and we all know that morality is a gift that has been distributed sparingly to our generation.

Let's move to a hypothetical situation which as it turns out happens a lot of times so isn't really that hypothetical. What if the original poor guy (who was left, then morphed into the rich guy, taking girls from other poor guys, continuing the seemingly unbreakable cycle) ends up hooking up with the girl of his dreams - the one who left him when he was just a hustler? In the ideal universe they live happily ever after. Had this been a movie we'd just cut to the scene where she is crying on her friends couch/lap sobbing "but *inhales snort* I gave him the *inhales more snort* chance later on. Why would he cheat on me? *insert sobs here*"

When a mother gives up her baby- adoption abandonment whichever- for 10 or maybe 15 years then comes back into the picture, will she still have the same effect on it as she would have had she raised the baby? The man had a specific perception of you when you were young; had you stayed together, the perception would have adjusted as you aged together and there wouldn't have been any lost years because of petty finance issues. This is what I was leading up to when I said it doesn't matter how either of you age because he will love you for all that you are and all that you made him feel i.e. if you hadn't made him feel pathetic by leaving him because he wasn't as loaded as other guys. Now the man is stuck on an image of you when you were young and since you are no longer it, he will still be on the lookout for the younger you he knew and loved which will lead to him doing what? It may seem like a cold and pessimistic outlook on life and relationships, and I'm not saying anyone deserves to be cheated on, but this is the reason most guys I've talked to give.

The truth is people lie to each other. Sometimes when a person is too forthcoming about how good their life is, they are probably trying to cover up for small insecurities, embarrassment or pain. Why else do we see couples break up and not give a shit about the money anymore after several years? Just goes to show how many people realize too late where some of the priorities should have been.

There are good guys out there, men who will lay down their life for you, and mold their world around you because, for all intents and purpose, you are their world. Just make sure you aren't too preoccupied assessing their finances to notice what they mean to you or you to them. Would you rather be a trophy to a wealthy fuck who treats you like trash, than be a queen to an average guy who would treat them like they are the world. Sometimes the grass is greener on the other side because you aren't watering your side enough.

As a side note before it seems like I'm trashing rich folk: I know several wealthy couples who are really happy with each other all these years (some have been together for 26yrs now…26!) and the common denominator between them is they weren't always rich yet stuck together through the hard .

Let love be the prize and money to be just a welcome bonus

Are your naked photos online?

This has been an interesting week for Kenyans on twitter. Apart from the extra photos from muliro garden, there were photos of this poor girl from a local private university and a video (read porn) clip from yet another local university, this time public.
Now I could yell from my high horse saying how wrong it was for whoever put those photos online to do it, but I’m a little more honest with myself than that. I’m guilty of retweeting and having a good laugh at how gullible people are when it comes to technology; and how funny/stupid some of those sex positions were.
I have a quick confession to make. Several years ago I happened to lend my camera to a certain lady who later retuned it damaged. Well, the camera was irrecoverable but the memory card wasn’t. The contents taught me one important thing: there are more nudies out there than we might have previously imagined. To cover up the loose end in my confession I’ll state that her photos never made it online and her dignity is intact all these years later. What about the photos? Deleted and the memory card wiped and put through such thorough data shredding nothing could ever be recovered( unless the cyborg from terminator is given a side mission as it waits for Sarah to pop up somewhere, though if it had been given that mission then I’d know by now). And I WAS pissed at her for breaking my camera, among other things! See how good I am? Yeah, you can worship me later.
The only foolproof way of protecting yourself is making sure such photos don’t exist in the first place. Sex in public/risky places is thrilling and probably has no match in the adrenalin seeking area - unless it’s possible to have sex while parachuting, which still adds up to public sex anyway- but this is the 21st century and big brother is everywhere. I can bet just about every other person on the street has a phone with a working camera, this means chances of getting away with a quick shag without getting photographed are pretty slim.
Here is how to decrease your chances of negative online presence (read- having your nudies leaked online):
a) Listen out for any unnatural sound; hell, listen out for any natural sound or any sound at all that is out of place. I know, it’s hard to focus with blood rushing through your ears while the rest of the blood has been redirected from the brain, but it’s really important if you are in unfamiliar territory.
It is common knowledge that all locations have their “native” sounds, so if you’re getting all hot and heavy and you hear a sharp click, STOP! Then search the area and make sure you cover the windows in your search. The natural sound I mentioned earlier is to cover for those cameras that make chirping sounds. Maybe, also check for extremely glossy surfaces on a fixed substrate.
b) Since most people can’t afford a faraday field, make sure no piece of technology is switched on! Look at that toaster as an enemy; unplug it. If you have a laptop make sure the battery is out on the other side of the room and for extra security the lid is firmly shut. In the case of a desktop computer make sure all the cables are on the table and the tips are visible. As for the phones, you know how to take out the battery, don’t you?
I guess all this hustle will take out a lot of your horniness, but ask yourself “which is easier, getting your leaked naked photos off the internet or engaging in a couple extra minutes of foreplay to make up for watered lust?” Yes my friends, make paranoia your best friend, not everybody has my –since I’m modest to a fault- ability to use delete.
As a side note: sometime back this guy showed me a pen and watch that had spy cameras fitted within. I saw the photos, but couldn’t tell where the shutter was located except guess using the angle of the shot to determine the region where it could be. See why paranoia is ok?
If despite all this you still choose to record yourself or sit for photos, remember you are the only person you can trust, and even then, can you trust yourself that well? Many a time I’ve been in a cyber café and, while saving my stuff, seen photos that have made me shake my head. Are they that surprised when they find themselves as trending topics?
More unsolicited advice:
c) Always work from your drive directly from your memory card/flash if you are on a public computer. If you seek assistance, then the only time you should break eye contact with the screen and storage device is when you blink, never mind the mind control required to multitask that. If you blink for exceedingly long periods of time, then you can’t be helped; see a doctor or take coffee for that.
d) Make ctr+shift+delete your best friend. On any browser this action will bring up the browser dialog for clearing all your browsing data. This means if you are one of those people who store data in the draft section then you won’t accidentally leave your email account logged in. If it gives you a message along the lines of “You need administrative permission to do that”, then raise hell. You can never be too safe.
e) Pray. Whatever your religion, turn to the deity and say “Please cover for me if I screwed up!” I know I do.
Have a porn free day

Glass houses

The most cruel thing I've ever told a girl is "I can never love you" and before the lynch squad is organised and pitch forks gathered, I'll tell you of things karma and others blunt(not the weed).
Relationships have never been easy and sometimes i try to adopt a philosophical approach towards them but it doesn't quite cut due to inexperience, age or a touch of both; never been sure which.
She was young and pretty with pink soft lips that tasted like nectar. Like all others before and after her, she was enamoured by this guy with traits of a split personality and extremes in moods and behaviour, and like most others she discovered it can burn sometimes. Her eyes haunt me each time we meet, the innocence gone and memories of the hurt i involuntarily put there. Whenever on the phone i can feel her silent accusation on why she turned cynical. Why i like to avoid emotional contact, that's part of the reason.
I've never found it hard to interact with the fairer sex especially when in my comfort zone. Having a female best friend was a good thing overall, but definitely a thorn in the side relationshipwise. Apparently most girls aren't willing to stick around knowing of the disadvantage that you probably love your best friend more than you ever will them. But that is also neither here and there since you have to breakdown the different types of love.
If i was to lift up my left hand to count the number of times i've been in love, i guess i could comfortably donate my thumb to research, give the little finger to my fish as a light snack and have serious consideration to where the middle finger would required, and still have more than enough fingers left for my count. I'm not ashamed to admit to have been in love. It took the cynicism away. Although i never get it how people fall in love over and over again, i have enough sense to appreciate they lead richer more satisfying lives than i ever will.
Being into the same person always is never an easy thing. Having the need yet the circumstances never letting you be is like being in a glass house on either side of a wall looking at each other. You place your hand at the spot she is placing hers and can't feel the softness. All you can do is look at each other and tap to let each other know you're still there; hoping a door will be found, or maybe somebody will throw a stone and shatter the whole thing, and cut and bruised you will fix each others wounds but at least finally you will be together.
But life isn't that simple, is it? Whenever you get that person who loves you the way you do them fate will always find a way to make sure you can't be, because, lets admit it, life is not a tv show.
Whenever you find that person that loves you, circumstances will be ripe for you two to hook up, but your heart will be that big empty hole with longings for another(refer to the opening statement). And so all the options are there but never in your favour. Isn't life grand?
Whenever cynicism and philosophy fail you do as i do; convince yourself, since you're alive maybe there's a reason and a chance. Many maybes constitute to a whole lot of probablys which overall means there's a chance(forgive the ill constructed grammar); and a chance is way better than nothing. Maybe you will get out of the glass house and maybe you will reach each other, and maybe you will find another. That line of logic barely works for me, but it's a world better than hopelessness. Love is gift, but it's not in your hands who you give it to.

Legion, because there are many of us

He is that geek, quiet in the corner minding his own
Looks on, never a word just a friendly smile
Or a sputter of awkwardness in an attempt at conversation

He is that guy, adrenalin his fuel
His world a blur of adventure,
Violence his second nature
The smell of blood, a spur to his flank for more

The life of the party, that other one
Girls are his ambition, with alcohol no inhibitions
And herb as the cherry on top
Seeking the next big rush

To hold them all at the core
Lies the keeper to them all, and master to none
Guardian of the knowledge they are but one
Pulling each to their own, seeking separate identity

The keeper, sober and decisive, by psychology and meds he shall draw
them in...eventually
There is a limit to occupants of a mind, but they still fight it
They tire him, should he give in they all die
There is a limit to what the world takes as eccentric
And chains and cells is what they offer
He is one mind, one man, but many occupants; Legion

Blogger's dilemma

Sleep eludes me so might as well write.
The blogger's dilemma is the combined cause effect of knowing(or
wondering?) who has access to what you write.
Unlike mainstream or fictional literal works, blogs tend to have more
personal content and emotions. So where do you draw the line? Ideally
one should be able to speak their mind in its entirety, rant, curse or
even cry. This would work perfectly where you have anonymity.
According to the stats of this blog most of the traffic it receives is
through twitter; which is a good thing, but is also the cause of my
grievance, somewhat. Though i'm unknown personally to most of my
followers, i'm getting jitters about the few who do because of the
content of bensyen, and future of it.
I am a person who believes in freedom of expression. I can and do
curse at will without giving a fuck who gets to read or hear it, but
prudence plays a role in the when.
What can i publish without shooting myself in the foot? For example, I
have had clients who were, to say the least, a pain in the ass.
Clients whom i loathed with every fibre of my being but due to
professional courtesy i never blogged to bitch about, because other
potential clients may become aware of my blog and have reservations
about working with me.
Lets bring the issue closer to home; would you write about your
current friends. I'm not talking about the way i can write about my
best friend(former) because i have nothing bad to say about her. No, i
mean those friends who continually lie and by extension shouldn't
actually be refered to as friends.
Here's the big one: would you write about your boss knowing they know
of your blog or might in the immediate future?
I have several posts in the unpublished drafts about friends who
aren't so friendly when they think you aren't looking but i decided
not to publish because in the spirit of vindictiveness that would be
like a pat on the back when colder more delicious vengeance can be
achieved. Watching them squirm beats the most hateful blog, and you
haven't even began to get them back. But that isn't what i was leading
up to with this post.
Would you write about your boss? I know, i rarely wrote about my old
boss, though i will eventually. He was actually among the most
interesting people i've ever met and the content of the topics we
debated will definitely require more blog entries under respective
topics.
He knew of my blog, though back then it was yulemsee.blogspot.com, and
he asked about it leading to a discussion of basically what i've been
talking about. If i get into what type of person he was here i'll run
out of space but i'll cover that in a later post. But as far as he was
concerned he never minded as long as company secrets didn't make it
into the blog.
Now we enter my current dilemma. Many of my coworkers are aware of my
blog and more with time as i get more followers on twitter. So what if
a point strikes too close to home? Can i easily tell them to go fuck
themselves the way i do to my friends? Will they take it in the same
spirit my friends do? I won't moderate my tweets in any way, but can i
do the same with my blog? Will i have to constantly watch my back
before clicking 'publish'? I don't know and guess it's a river i'll
cross when i get to it.
Then again i guess this is one of those posts that require a follow up
post to fill in the bigger picture, and one of those you walk into
with your fingers crossed. Here goes nothing. In conclusion will do a
follow up after a month.
Cheers!

--
Sent from my mobile device

The difference between one man and another is not mere ability it is
energy.~ Thomas
Arnold

How to be a kenyan on twitter

Twitter is a great social networking tool and all that bull jargon that gets thrown around when "expert" analysts try to sound smart about about technology they barely understand.
Kenyans on twitter are an interesting lot and having been actively on twitter for sometime i could safely say i kinda have an idea of how they(we) function. So i can, with a degree of confidence, tell the newbies how to join and interact nicely with the rest of the masses.

1. This is not facebook
When you join twitter you say goodbye to the notifications and asskissery that we have come to know as facebook. In fact, facebook is frowned upon on twitter and is just called MKZ(mukuru kwa zuckerberg), yeah, it's some sort of slum with 500million people stoking the egos of a couple hundred.
I guess this transition is usually hardest on the good looking 'hot' chicks. No more putting up a question mark as a status update and getting 20 comments in a few minutes. But don't worry so much, on twitter we have dibs. More on that later.

2. Your timeline
Your twitter timeline is your lifeline, so to speak. Once you get the hang of tweeting, the refresh button(f5) will be your best friend. You will do it almost everywhere and if your battery isn't up to it, your phone will lose charge by the early afternoon.
Most importantly, you will learn to express yourself in under 140 characters. I know there are applications like twitlonger that try to stretch that out, but it's usually as a segue from facebook, so eventually you will find yourself in the 140 character or less region.
So far what i've talked about can apply to all other twitter users in the world except the mkz part that is unique to kenyans
Kenyans on twitter are brutal an merciless
This heading tells it all. Kenyans on twitter are like a pack of caged, rabid, hungry dogs just waiting for the latch to loosen on the cage door and all hell is unleashed upon the unsuspecting, though rarely innocent, victim. They will tear you up, then take the pieces and tear them up some more. People around the world WILL see the massacre and tsk tsk tsk. Your tatters will be picked up by google and cached for future last laughs by the slower ones among us. But don't worry, this rarely happens unless you're a kenyan celebrity, politician, midget radio presenter who incites(d) or belong to a clique ripe for mocking, like say female from a certain private university.

Kenyans on twitter are anonymous.
'Anonymity is synonymous to longetivity.' That air of mystery around somebody you know yet don't know lends power to the kenyans on twitter. Like i said before twitter isn't facebook. You can only describe yourself in 140char or less and put up a link to your blog or wherever you want to point it.
This means you won't know shit about somebody unless they tell you. Most of the time all you have to work with is the user handle(username) and avatar(profile photo) also called your avi.
Basically this means in case of anything, read defamation, copyright infringement, bullying, you can't do anything. Ok, you have sway in the bullying part because of the terms of service i'm sure nobody bothers to read, but barely.

Morals don't count for shit!
It's true! Your timeline WILL be bombarded with breasts on tuesday and asses on thursday. You will be exposed to the type of adult content that makes old ladies wail and cover themselves with sacks and ash. Somebody will probably call dibs on the old ladies covered with sacks and ash and everything will be turned into a double entrendre.

Dibs
If you are an attractive lady and post a photo of yourself through twitpic or any other image service, somebody will call dibs. Hell, several people will call dibs. You will be DM'd and hit on from more sides than a bracelet at a blacksmiths. People will be bold and vulgar, and subliminals will be the order of the day.

Tweet smart
If you are in doubt of your intelligence, DON'T TWEET! Because you will be sniffed out, and remember about kenyans on twitter being brutal? Looks don't count here. You can say hi to guys/girls but keep it simple, you may never know who will turn you into a trending topic.

It's never that serious
Despite the lack in morality and deceptive brutality you have to remember this golden rule. Feathers will be ruffled, egos will be deflated, but extending a grudge beyond the timeline and into real life is really stupid. You should always take everything on twitter in jest. Don't lose sleep over something you may have been called because, unless you are a politician or public servant, most kenyans on twitter are there to have fun, bitch and socialize without the normal face to face social constraints of having to communicate with several people at once.

Who to follow
For a start, me! Just give me a shout out and i'll hopefully follow back....or anyone else. The important thing is to inform them you're following by interacting with them. Set your location to Kenya, or Nairobi, Kenya. It helps.

Positive negative reinforcement

I'll start(and end) with one of my common disclaimers that sound like "No offence, but…"

I'm in no way encouraging things like shoving your fingers down the throat immediately after eating, but if Ben doesn't know, he won't tell.

Have you ever looked into the mirror and thought, "Damn, i look good!"

Yes? Well, my friend, you just lost the battle. The thing about compliments I they should never be from the same source they're directed at. The moment you are comfortable with how you look, you lose the fight against complacency. Your body is the one area you should never ever see a perfect! IT must have that chink you are constantly working to improve. Why do you think fat people are fat? Because they over ate? Hell no! It is because somebody, probably themselves, told them they looked good. I'll touch on that in a bit.

Do you have a self-help book about improving positive self-image and all that hogwash about getting the best out of life? Yes? Throw that thing away, but first take a felt pen and draw glasses and a moustache on the author. This won't get you your money back or make you less cheated, but it might make you giggle and give you that warm fuzzy feeling you get when you deface something.

The problem with today's world is people are too fucking pretentious. You know, screw political correctness. It is main the problem with our society. I have seen cases where kids are taught that 'it's not about the winning, but the journey!' really? Doesn't that sound like something a loser would say to justify the losing status? Here comes another person all obese and panting each time they use their brain cell and somebody else has the audacity to tell them, "You are perfect the way you are, God made you in his own image". So the next time the fatty is looking in the mirror, he likes what he sees. Ah, now you are starting to see the picture.

Every day we are fed lies by conformists who have no right sticking their noses into our business. They tell us what is ok, what is not, trying to create a robot army for their capitalist masters. Ok, i could have picked better wording, but it's more fun sounding like a conspiracy theorist.

But seriously, by making it wrong to point out to a fat person that they are fat, aren't they the ones committing the crimes against the fatties? By making it or saying it's ok/normal to be fat, does it mean you are absolved from hypertension and heart attack? What is good or bad for your physical or mental well-being is not determined by your society. Social interactions improve our chances of survival which is good. But society doesn't have the power or right to make what is naturally wrong to be ok. Some things are that black and white. You may bring in the talk about "What matters is what makes me happy. Each to their own path of happiness." Does it make you happy when I call you a fatty? Never mind that sometimes I don't do it so much to make you improve, as to give myself some sort of evil satisfaction

Anyway a critic reading this would be quick to point out, this entry has no organized structure or point. And that the author does seem to have a bias against fat people, notably by the repeated use of the term "fatty". I'd tell that critic to take their crap and shove it back up that shithole it came out of. That is part of the problem with today's society, everyone is treated like an invalid and handled with padded gloves, and we learn to rely so much on what others think of us we all merge into one homologous(ha, i said homo) layer, where one person can't be differentiated from the other.

Did you know that telling me that I'm one in a million would piss me off? Yeah, because even though you're trying to make me feel unique, you just implied there are 1thousand other guys just like me which really makes me feel special! By following that line of thought we can safely assume that if i died, there are 1thousand other guys waiting to take over my space so comfortably, it would be like i never left. In my ideal fantasy I'm immortal, boring as living forever would be. Though then when on one of my quarterly excursions to Titan (the moon on Saturn) I'd be sure on meditating on the miracle of life…and living forever. But if i died i want people so depressed they engineer a way of bringing me back to life...and probably give me immortality in the process, I'd give them an exception and not eat their brains (that's a delicacy to zombies, right?) But again, I've digressed.

Positive negative reinforcement is the state/application/trait where you always strive to make yourself better by focusing on the negative things about yourself. Don't live on compliments. When i look into a mirror all i see are the man boobs (moobs), even though by societal standards i barely have any. But it keeps me pushing my body to stay fit. So according to myself I'm also a fatty fatty, and the fear of heart attack and hypertension (and herpes too) keeps me on my toes. You see now, it's not how others perceive you that keeps you alive and awesome, it's you that keeps you alive, so shrug off the compliments and see the horror that looks on from within the mirror.

Next time you see a fat person, call them out, you might have just saved their life. Plant that seed of negative reinforcement!

Disclaimer: Author is not advocating for the victimization of fatties, neither is he propagating the idea that some people are better than others (although he is).

Everyone is perfect the way they are, and the fact that gyms and the diet food/drink industry is raking in millions is purely coincidental.

Of things bloggers and others mainstream

Recently bloggers have come under fire from critics in the media(kenyan newspapers especially). I heard sentiments of narcissism, attention seeking and all that.
I guess all i can say is fuck it! You know, people are free to their own opinions, but i wonder what really bothers them about our blogging? I never put up an ad in the local paper demanding or forcing them to check my blog, neither did i spam the social media asking people to comment. And as far as i know most of the bloggers i know dont do that either.
So when some overworked idiot from some local newspaper chooses to get mileage off bloggers by insulting them, hell yeah i'll feel insulted. We all have our reasons for writing, some of us do it because it's therapeutic and as a hobby, others do it [and i'm not naming names] because if they don't come up with something at the end of the week, they might lose their jobs, have to don heels and find a suitable variation for "me love you long time."
But it's cool, from a different perspective, criticism serves to ensure we raise our standards and pick a couple of pointers. Besides,i figure i can see where they're coming from; i'd also get jealous if i found tens of bloggers who write more interesting material than i do, have better structured content, better grammar, churn out entry after entry easily, are less stressed, and most importantly, do it for free? Fuck yeah i'd get pissed, and i'd vent it out in a national newspaper, assuming i worked for one of course, and cross my fingers hoping nobody noticed the online version of the newspaper also published my article, which in essence turns it into another useless blog entry.
At least i'm sincere about why i write. By that little rant up there i have saved myself thousands in terms of shrink services, saved my friends a lot of bitching...and *drumrolls* showed a couple of dumb writers, the only reason they still have a job is because most of us bloggers don't really want to get paid for our writing. I guess it's about time the mainstream media writers got called out over their habit of plagiarizing material off blogs. You can't have your cake and eat it...but i guess the more appropriate saying would be the one where you bite the hand that feeds you.
And at that point, i guess the air is clear.

The funk

I have really become really good at suppressing my feelings th last year or so, no angry outbursts, no expression of emotion, except this sunny disposition i always carry. Part of me, no most of me hoping maybe if i fake it long enough it will turn real.
Most of the time it works, since i push all my problems to the back of my head and if i catch a glimpse of it, i turn to the other side. So here i walk, no fear in my stride, no pain on my face, as i lie to myself all is good with my life. I guess i didn't count on the funk.
Yeah, i found a name for it, "the funk". That ghost who rules my mind. He likes to let me think i'm free and i control all that i am and will be...though now it's 'could be'. Because he occasionally likes to remind me who's boss and yanks at my mind to spiral me into that random mood or whatever the fuck he deems fit. So now i'm face to face with everything i'd thrown under the rug.
Everyday i come across hundreds of faces. Everyday i hear people laugh, as i watch them go about their lives. I also hear tales of suffering and evil. Everyday i meet new people. From that girl who'l get googly eyed over me because she see's something i honestly never see in me, to that guy who wants us to be best buds, and also see's something in me that i don't.
Each time i look in me i sometimes imagine i can hear God chuckle. You know, that silent chuckle when i turn around after talking to him, as he nudges his son with his elbow. I hate thinking life is one big joke to Him, not for fear of blasphemy, but the fear that if it's true then all this suffering is not the setup to something good, but just a cruel result of somebody's sick sense of humour.
So who am i? I'm not the first person to be bipolar, neither will i be the last, so why should my problems matter?
At times like these when i'm in the grip of the funk and there is no alcohol or sleeping pills at hand i just turn and face the huge gap it has left in my soul, each time digging deeper. The rationality it took from me to the point even normal me barely has any emotional connection to most people. Do you know how frustrating it is to be around 'friends' yet there is that huge emptiness in you that you can never fill(ok, most of them are backstabbing bastards and probably deserve hell's wrath). Being lonely among your friends is akin to water everywhere and not a drop to drink. It's worse, when you are with that somebody who is probably the only one you can really 'feel'/connect to, and understands you. You know they deserve all the good you have to offer and worth a shot. But it's impossible to tell them because your damaged soul tells you "they'll probably leave anyway, they all do eventually". It's better that way because it will be easier in the end. But is it? Would you rather try and fill that hole temporarilly by having somebody close, give them the chance to surprise you and stay, or you are better off never knowing. Ignorance being bliss and all that bull.
Last year i was all for getting medicated, "down with the funk" and all that. I guess i kinda gave up or stopped caring. Most of the time i convince myself it isn't real. What can it do to screw up my life that it hasn't done already? It takes my writing ability when it wants, it progressively pushed away my best friend, it constantly hides to give me false security and doubt its existence, it makes me hyper one time and depressed the other making people doubt my sanity. So really what else is left in that bag of tricks? Nothing! Nada! Zilch!
I don't really have any lower to go. Being lonely is like having slightly ill fitting shoes, so by the time you get to the shoe shop you don't really give a crap about new shoes anymore. Hell, people will probably confuse that limp for a swag.

My cup over flows

In the blaze of th desert i hold my cup. A mirage in the distance, hints of shade and rest. I watch them pass, not a glance do they raise. For my fountain drips, not a gush to be seen. Just the regular drip.

I watch them sneer, at the dents in my cup, the cracks on my lips, and the lines on my face. But only for a fleeting moment. For they all opt for the trees shimmering in the distance.
Still i hold my cup, dents rust and all, on the outside. Still i stay beside my fountain and wait. The drip my constant companion. The missing bricks a reminder of the storm and hail.
I hold my vigil, waiting. For one shall come, and realize, my cup may be worn but it's ever full, of crystal clear refreshment. My face may be lined but my eyes are calm. For i am the keeper of the fountain.
I know of the faces that passed. I heard the moans in the wind, of hopelessness and despair when the mirage disappears leaving just swirling sand in its place.
They spoke of the one, voice like the sea, breath like the breeze. Who shall drink from the cup and once more the fountain shall flow. For i am the keeper of the fountain, and i know how deep it goes. Once more it shall overflow, and the sand will give growth and life shall flow.