Encore to My Roots

I wanted to write about how my neighbours and I poop so much that we had an exhauster come to scoop our shit, but I have gotten lazy over the past few weeks and will write about it next month, so stay tuned. 

But because I am cultured like that and would not want to make you miss me so much, here is a review of a blog I wrote six years ago, about me going back to my mother’s place. If you have not read it, please do. Here is the link again. 

Let it be known that since then, I have returned to my grandmother’s place twice; once to visit and once to register to vote in the 2022 elections. I have since changed my voter’s details to my current place. Is that when you actually know that you are adulting? I have also been looking for a working Posta so I can have a tangible P.O. Box. I am also looking for friends who have P.O. Boxes, which we can use to send each other avocados and some letters, and a lot of books. If you do, please tupatane nyuma ya tent!  Anyway, back to the story. 

I have not spoken to Winnie in so long, but I occasionally see her retweets, and I at least know that she is alive. That counts for something, right? I wonder how many people have read my stories, and we kinda drifted apart and now follow me through my non-existent Twitter feed. Or sparsed-out Instagram posts. While it has a twinge of sadness, I love the concept of moving on because it implies that our time has come to a natural end. I have been very big on timing recently, and when it is your time, it is your time. So, who knows? Maybe this is a break in whatever we had, or it is over, but dare I say, I used to love her work a loooooottt! I hope life is kind to her. If not, please read some of her blog stories here. She still writes from the city. 

I’d say a few things have changed for me, too. For starters, I do not have any earphones. I gave mine away to my cousin last Christmas when she told me she liked them. I gave away my phone to someone in church when he told me his phone was always acting up. The phone came with a power bank by default, so I gave him both. And another pair of earphones, too. Since then, I have bought a new phone, and I am yet to buy a new pair of earphones. 

I have a “boring life” and have had one for a couple of years now, but I have found some interesting hobbies to fill the time. I am writing more than ever, I am watching more long-form movies and documentaries than before, I used to walk a lot last year and will resume once I get new earphones, I cook a lot, I became important in church, I have gone to a couple of roadtrips, I manage a lot of social media pages, I often host a bunch of people at my place, I read a lot and extensively, and I apply to a lot of jobs weekly because my horrors at my current workplace persist. 

Since then, too, I met Nyx a couple of years later, and by now you know the rest of the story. I kid you not, I have forgotten all the faces of girls I thought were cute back then. I now know that I feel “meh” romantically towards other girls, and that’s because I am only attracted to Nyx. I have not outright asked for anyone’s number for over five years now. If, and this is a huge if, we meet outside and vibe, I completely do not like the concept of asking for someone’s number. I believe that if we had such a great time, there is no need to spoil it by asking for my number or me asking for yours. If, again, we had such a great time, we shall, again, when we meet each other at random — we didn’t need each other’s numbers before, but why start now? I think that is why I cherish my friendship with [redacted] because we have been friends for three years now, and I still don’t have her number. There have been times we met at random in the CBD, and that was the beauty of it, or when I’d pass by her workplace in town after running my errands. She moved jobs, and now it is harder to just show up. Have I made another connection like her since then? I doubt. If I do, I’d rather not have their number so we can preserve the sanctity of our friendship.

When I go on roadtrips nowadays, I am the default DJ, and that has its perks. I have recently bought a Bluetooth speaker, and those trips are about to get even crazier. I believe I have elite taste in music and enough confidence to play my music in front of people, so you know, I will continue taking the aux when given the chance. 

My hometown has changed a lot since then, but Tamasa remains unchanged. However, I was so high from Nairobi to Tamasa, so what can I say? As a passenger, travelling while high beats travelling sober. As a driver, please do not take any substances while driving. As a co-driver, please don’t, too. 

From Me to You

I am pleased to announce that I have finally started getting those job rejections. I feel like it is better to receive a rejection than radio silence. I also went to an interview a couple of weeks ago and made the whole panel laugh at an avocado joke. Why am I telling you this, you ask? Because you have been with me every step of the way since I started complaining about my other job. 

Anyway, to all the February babes, if you see this, happpppyyyyy birthdaaayyyyyy! And I think you are cool for just existing and being born in February. May people always laugh at your jokes, may your avocados always be ripe at the opportune moment for eating, and may your music taste always be elite. 

Before you go, you can read about how I was mind-blown by the concept of being born on a Friday. 

I recently forgot to log in on HubSpot and had all my data and newsletters deleted, so I’m starting a new email list. If you are interested, please subscribe, and I’ll add you to it.