Everyone from your mother to your cat asks why you don’t blog anymore. Are you out of the country? Did you quit blogging? For how long should I keep refreshing your blog? Where am I supposed to read single girl stories? Are you testing us? Lol. Hii inaitwa kuzoeana bana!
Pull up! Rewind come back again, selecta. Take it back from the top!
Yes, I just did that. That’s what happens when you ride on buses to and from Kikuyu, even if just on weekends. Add those weekends up for years, and you have a load of nonsense in your head if you’re not careful. Days fly, for some reason. Work days especially. You’re so used to what you do sometimes, that you could do it with your eyes closed. You open a thousand tabs and promise to close all as soon as you’re done with the tasks they represent, but they are still open ten days later. Your friends are even used to getting comments about a trending online sensation weeks later. Work politics are the order of the day, now that you’re deeply entrenched in the system. Sometimes you think you should do something else. A lot of times you feel this is what you should be doing. Then again you think you need to think again, you’ve been in a comfort zone for quite a while. Let’s see where this goes.
Weekends are about family and friends as always. A wedding here. You meet your campus friends and their fiancées. Kila mtu na wake. U mundu ni ainie wake. That part of the mugithi comes and you look around and find one of the many ladies who are clearly alone in this. You dance. You imagine what it will be like, when that day comes… (Move along, we’re not about to sing I can Only Imagine here.) Baby showers. People trying to hook you up. People trying to date you. People thinking they are dating you. Seriously. Do men define dating differently from women? You want an answer to that question. Others make dates and cancel. And you completely forget it ever happened. Like who has time for that kind of negative energy? You have things to do too. Many things. Then there are those who don’t keep time. Oh God. Like why do people never keep time. You’re now becoming very conversant with different towns simply because you walk around the streets waiting for people to show up. You call every ten minutes. Thank you for calling, Wanjiku. Wanjiku will take your call shortly. Wanjiku is a Kikuyu name blah blah blah. You know that ringback tone? The one that everyone and their grandmother has? Anyhuuu…
It’s getting so normal, this kawaidaness. You push people away, even those who think they are dating you, with reasons they should not even be trying to date you. No point trying if you know you’re going nowhere. It’s not a matter of life and death. You’ve become so different, cutting your hair is now easier than thinking of growing it. You sit in a salon and watch this guy cut it and wonder why you can’t just go to your brother’s barber. Turns out you’re still a girl. You’re even dyeing your white hairs now. Just for the look, not because you think they will ward off anyone or something of the sort. The other day you walked right into the bowels of Luthuli Avenue and bought a phone. You didn’t wait for your phone guy to do it for you. You were not scared that you’d buy a fake phone. You spent an hour verifying it was not fake. There is no way you were going to buy the same phone for more. No more phone guy. No more guys who do stuff for you. Hold that thought. No more crap about boys. You no longer have boys. Water under the bridge. Stuff you believed in while you were still naïve. Male friends who are not going to be something more are held at arm’s length now. Everyone was right, you were not.
The month flies too. You buy books. Nothing strikes a chord. Poisonwood Bible is funny but it’s a bit unsettling. Cross is James Patterson with the shortest chapters you’ll ever see in a book. Like chapters mean something entirely different to the guy. Not working. The Time Traveler’s Wife was nice to some point, then it became a bit of a drag. A bit weird. The Goldfinch is some heavy stuff man. One day you’ll finish it. You somehow love children’s books now. The Chronicles of Narnia. You know what they say about not doing kid stuff when you were a kid. Then finally you find another psychological thriller. The Girl You Lost. It’s predictable but readable, so you are now looking for another. So far you’ve distributed all these psychological thrillers to your girlfriends. That’s the joy of reading, right?
Your cat is nursing new kittens. You’re finally going to neuter it. This is still hypothetical. Your dad just said you have a thumb for breeding cats. LOL. The elder sister is sitting on your lap actually. She needs to be neutered too. Cats are the best. Let anyone who says otherwise challenge you to a fight. The only time they are tiring is when they wake you up in the middle of the night or early in the morning. Mew, mew, mew. Jump on top of bed. Mew, mew. Walk around. Mew, mew. Jump out and keep mewing down there. Get thrown out into the corridor. Mew, mew. Give up and jump out of the nearest window, to come back later. Also, giving away the kittens of course. That’s the joy of keeping cats, right?
You could go on writing, but you know what, you’re not really back yet. You just don’t want anyone throwing stones and demonstrating outside your version of Anniversary Towers. Yet.