Am I a literary hoax?

There's a big fat sign in the corner of my blog. Have you noticed?

This is the blog from the Storymoja blog this week.


I have been struggling valiantly to read Dust by Yvonne Owuor. My cousin has hailed it as one of the greatest novels of its time; she says something about nuances and descriptions and the true depiction of Kenyan life evolving through neo-colonialism…something…something…really great…something…something.

I can’t seem to get past page 3.

And I thought it was just me, but I am not the only one. I asked my friend, who reads far more than me, if she was reading it – she is plodding through as well. I even asked the significant other to give it a go – he said that it was too ‘artsy’ for him.
Now before you look down your artsy noses at me (well. I am sure it is already too late), consider this: not everyone loves the greatest books, and not all the greatest books considered so by people are actually the greatest.

Surely though, you protest, she is one of the only Kenyans to have gotten the Caine Prize? (With any luck though, Okwiri Oduor will wow their socks off with her generally stupendous je-ne-sais-quoi. Who’s being artsy now?) That couldn’t have happened if they found her language bombastic, her descriptions overly flowery and her though process convoluted?

Well, let’s just say it’s a good thing I was not on the board. (A girl can dream…)

I like my writing the way I like my poetry and my people: simple. I am planning to release a book of poetry which will probably be the easiest thing to read since the Run Spot Run fables of our childhoods (or Anansi, depending on what your parents preferred). I cannot abide complicated writing.

And this ranges through to the books I read. I won’t read Shakespeare unless you force me to do it – I mean, yes, I will like it, but it will have to be dependent on a grade or a gun to my head. A child I tutor had to read Romeo and Juliet for school last term and I thought it was atrocious that a 12 year old should have to read about love –something she can barely identify with – involuntarily? I mean, I read Romeo and Juliet at about that age, but I wasn’t being forced to take a test on it. I think Shakespeare is a bit difficult even for word lovers.

Is it a terrible thing that I enjoy Marian Keyes and C.S. Lewis more? Is it so horrific that some of my favourite books are children’s ones, with short easy paragraphs and snappy, snarky action? Think of the worlds of Roald Dahl and Enid Blyton, and how much easier being a reader was then. Why must we overcomplicate what we must read? Do we intend to sound more intelligent? Is it that much like a certain tribe that I belong to *cough*, a sentence isn’t a sentence without at least 4 words containing 4 or 5 syllables? Or is it all a show?

Look, I admit it. I haven’t read all the books one who considers themselves a book lover ‘should’ read. But that doesn’t make me less of a book lover and it doesn’t mean I have to keep trying to read *shudder* that book. If I was a manuscript editor (another one of my dreams) I would probably toss ¾ of the material that comes my way and just glance over the next ‘novel of the century’. And that’s ok. Because for every Audacity of Hope/Paulo Coelho touter (yes, I know that is not a word), there has to be someone on the other side able to have an hour long discussion on How Sweet Valley Should Have Ended, right?

...originally posted here.

tSN

p.s. Or Hardy Boys...or Tom Swift...or Cricket...whatever your poison...

On the word FUCK

Guess what?

This post has cussing.

:D Also, is a rant. So the sense level, might be, you know, maybe not as up there as I would like. And I've had an emotional evening. So, yeah.

I just watched the Game of Thrones episode where the Mountain (Queen Sersei's champion) fights Prince Oberyn (Tyrion Lannister's champion) (emotional evening). Needless to say, I cussed a lot when it was over. I also hit the rewind button once - just once - to see if what I saw was what I thought I saw.

I then went on Facebook (because what is FB for, if not to NOT spoil everything on every show out there) to express my shock and horror, and my post started with "FUCK." then proceeded to "SHIT." and then to just...onomatopoeic sounds about my emotions.

The first comment on this status was "Wow, so many four letter words. Ladylike?" I felt a sigh welling up in my soul; a deep, bone wearying sigh about why this is still something that people are talking about and indeed; why this is distracting me from onomatopoeing about GoT.

I thought about whether or not to write this post or not, because the person who read it is probably going to read it.
But then I remembered that I don't give a fuck, and even if I do, I shouldn't. #fakeItTillYouMakeIT YOU CAN'T GO THROUGH LIFE CARING ABOUT WHAT PEOPLE THINK.
Unless they're your mom.

1. It was nice to be able to mourn GoT in peace. For all of 2 seconds.
2. Ladylike. What does that word mean? Does it mean not allowed to cuss? Because if being a lady means not being able to cuss, then I am ok with that. If I can't say DAMNIT really explosively when I stub my toe, then obviously, it'll never heal. This is clearly life and death.
3. Seriously, though. Who determines what that word means (the word ladylike, not the word fuck)? Is there a board or something? Is it a word whose definition can be decided by societal obligations/OPoP (OtherPeoplesOpinions)? And why? Could they at least possibly have vaginas so we can discuss it from a point of knowledge?

I don't know.
I do not think, however, that anyone but the lady should be deciding what the word ladylike means to her.
I also think that situational awareness is important. Like, I'm not going to be screaming 'YOU PUNKASS BASTARD!' in front of my dad (at the screen, of course). But on MY Facebook account...yeah. I'm all up in it.
My brother always says I cuss too much, and I'm like...yeah. Yeah I do. Is it going to be a problem, or...
But it's taken me way longer than it should to get to this point and I'm exhausted to be a rent-paying adult still explaining herself. If you're going to like me, I'm going to cuss a lot around you so you can make an informed decision about our friendship/Twitter following status et al.

So at this point...FUCK IT.
I DON'T CARE!
I LOVE IT!!

tSN

Film: Endless Love

Look, it wasn't my choice to revive this section of the blog with a flimsy flick such as this.

Ok, I guess it was, because it's my blog.

But those are just details. Aaaanyhue...

Ati Say Goodbye To Innocence. Say goodbye to all those minutes you'll never get back, especially because you clogged them up with this cheesy ridiculousness.
Like I said, flimsy flick. Oh, teenagers, oh forbidden love, oh they both have a shadowed past, ooooh, he shows her how to live again, bla bla bla snore.
It kept getting me to the point where I thought I was going to cry, but it wasn't enough of a tear jerker to take me all the way, you know? Except like at the EEEEEND, and that scene wasn't even about the main characters. What I'm saying is, I have Movie Tear Blue Balls. They owed me, what with the sappy title. They promised me things. Ugh, I should have known. #AlexPettyfer (he was in Beastly, which I don't know how anyone who was in it didn't run away screaming from its idiocy. Yes, that includes you, Neil Patrick Harris. For SHAME.)

Don't bother with this unless you like silly sappiness that goes beyond the point of being fun. It gets like a 1 and a half.
Oh, but there IS one seriously funny dude in it - the only black guy, a chap called Dayo Okeniyi, who, as it turns out, was in Hunger Games (Thresh) and is a) half Nigerian and half-Kenyan (it was only a matter of time before these two made strongjawed lovebabies, no?) and b) is going to be in Terminator Genesis. You Kenyans. Just TAAAAAKING over.

GET IT IN!
(but not, in the cinema. For this movie. Get out. Out out out.)

tSN

TBT

I sometimes buy things - ok, I like to pretend I buy things a lot based on advertisements. The things in my house are there because I have been buying them for years, not because of their adverts. But, if I WAS buying things based on their adverts, then I would be...buying things based on NICE adverts.

Just an example: Nice adverts are anything that was made before CD-ROMS (haha) like the MILO Champion advert, the Tusker Baada ya Kazi advert (oohlalala oohlalala oohlalala oohlalalaOOH) and the Knorr soup advert (which I actually don't remember ever watching. But...si...everyone knows?)

BAD adverts are the one like the Indomie advert (um...seriously??), the Safaricom watching sijui football on your phone in the middle of nowhere advert (because seriously. WHO does that? LIKE THAT? Aki and they have money) and that ATROCIOOUS Soko Ugali Malaika mash up.
REALLY???

Now that that's out of the way.

DOOM IS A LIE!
I busted the conspiracy. The only reason why Doom (probably) sells more is because yes, it is a trusted brand that has been there for years, but also because its ads are (kinda) funny. Louis the Pest is practically a historical character and should be written down in Kenyan chronicles next to Tusker and Nyamabite.

Also, when agencies are advertising, even if they are the monopoly (#EABL), they still have to consistently remind you that they exist so that you keep buying them - whether you are going to buy them anyway or not (a la Safaricom's super emotional commercials. To be fair...I get super emotional about my network services. And whatsapp. And bundles. Basically, if I had a lighter...).

But Doom is NOT a monopoly. There are a lot of other pesticides to kill insects with. Like Bolt - terrible advertisement with that chick of Tahidi High, ei, sema downgrade, Baygon (which everyone forgot exists. Do they even still make it??) and...other ones. But the one I found the other day (YES, I KNOW IT'S ALWAYS BEEN THERE) is RAID.

Now. Raid, I believe, is to Doom what the Daily Nation was to the Standard when they started out. Doom was the first one, the shiny one, the new kid on the block. Then it became the old not-hip-with-it man on the block. Then Nation popped up and haemorrhaged money until they were at the top. TA-DA! (Don't go to school kids, grab the nearest millionaire)

Raid is at the stage where people (i.e. ME) are slowly starting to discover that DOOM IS A LIE and RAID IS THE TRUTH. Sure, they don't advertise much. BUT IT WORKS.
I had a little pest problem that is now gone (ENOUGH WITH THE LASER EYES OF JUDGMENT. SHEESH. SOME PEOPLE. YOU OPEN UP YOUR HEART AND THEY JUST DOOM YOU WITH THEIR GLANCES. SEE WHAT I DID THERE?) and let me tell you, I am NEVER looking back.
It's time for Raid to rise from the ashes. I'll be here spreading the gospel.

Don't worry, Raid. I gotchu.
#Phoenix
#theRevolutionWillNotBeTelevised
#TruthHurts
#ifDoomIsSoGoodWhysLouisStillAlive
#someSpraysAreMoreEqualThanOthers
#ifDoomSoNiceTellMeWhyItWorksSoBad
tSN

The D

It would seem that budgeting stays being a problem for my unemployed (yet perfectly happy soul).

Why, just yesterday was a holiday, and I spent it doing exactly what I would do most days anyway.
Every day is a holiday in my life, and I love it.
I can do pretty much what I want (except for those things that I have to do to pay the rent. But really, everything is a choice, right? If you don't want to pay the rent, you don't have to. Like I always say, the only things you have to do are stay black and die, unless you're Michael Jackson or Jesus), which, I might add, involves a LOT of sleep, because, guys, like 50% of the reason I quit is because of my deeply focused need to sleep.

I get cranky if I don't get at least 8 hours, and even then, it depends on, like, the weather, to see if I will actually make it through. 10 hours is optimum.

So back to budgeting. What happened was, I had this phone that I bought in Dec '12 (that feels like it was like 3 years ago. Or something. Why is time moving so fast? How are we already in MAY, guise?). From day ONE it was giving me drama, but I was so excited about my transition into the symbian world (yes, that is when I was transitioning. I'm an emotional hoarder. Sue me.) that I didn't care. I was all 'Oh GLORY! I'm on WHATSAPP! I MATTER!'. Much like everyone at the start of a semi-abusive pseudo-fulfilling relationship.

On we went until the phone just decided, by the way, zi. It was a Nokia, right? And in my head, they still make Nokias like they used to. So no matter how many times I dropped it, wherever I dropped it (that's a story for another day), it would still come back alive. Kicking, maybe not so much. I mean, sure, sometimes it would hang. Ok, most times. And sure, he needed about 5 minutes to get up and running. (:D) But I was fine with that. I was a patient lover, and if my lover was getting senile, all it meant was that I could officially change his will and get all his loot, amirite?

Then, suddenly, letters stopped working. Many letters. Like, the backspace button, the enter button, the w, the p, the s, the x, the shift button for capitalizing...lemme tell you, my messages started looking like coder language (is that what it's called? my major WASN'T IT, can you tell?). My Ws became double vs (vv), my Ss became $, all in the interest of trying to get creative enough to get the message across. I mean, imagine writing this sentence without all those letters.:

imagine vvriting thi$ $entence vvithout all tho$e letters (and you can't make a mistake, because every time you do, you have to start over. DUDE.)

I knew it was over. Especially when I couldn't do one of my favourite smileys:
:D

Because I couldn't shift (capitalize) my d.
And that D is very important to me.

It was time for a breakup.
The upgrade was a sleek Sony that I just couldn't get my hands around - no, really. This smart phone tomfoolery is irritating. I don't like the little buzz it makes when you press the screen. I don't like the silence, either. I wan't the CLICK, damnit. A KEYPAD. I don't like auto correct. I have big fingers so I stay pressing 4 letters. WHERE ARE THE FUNCTIONAL SMART PHONES WITH A TOUCH SCREEN AND A QWERTY KEYPAD?...and an 8 MP camera, and your answer is, for 6 million dollars, nowhere. The Sony had its own dramas (like a tiny, slow memory...I stay picking the senile ones. But that may have been as a result of what I think was a virus in the mem card), so that was eventually ditched for a Tecno, and now, I can smile again. My wallet isn't smiling too hard though, because there go all my Art Caffe dates (this, apparently, was the point of this post. Go figure.) Let's see how long this will last...

:D :D :D

tSN

Hiatii

During the absence, I have been busy writing bad prose, not selling it, writing okay prose, selling that, ignoring the caretaker at my building (and the sounds from my car) and generally trying to be superwoman.

Apparently, being a freelancer does NOT mean sitting around the house all day, laid out languidly on your couch, laughing at sitcoms and longing for an inheritance. #allTheAlliteration

More on that later...

EXPRESS KARMA

There is a whole lot to write about this week, it would seem.

I think it is because I have mad deadlines - I have SO MUCH WORK, so I am suffering through the I-want-to-do-everything-BUT-work syndrome.
It's terrible.

And my internet is slow. So even psyching up to do whatever I wanna do... *sigh* AND I'm leaving so I have stopped caring. Stupid internet.

Anyhue, so this short post is about the freaky god of karma.

So I was at the club, right? (say in Valley Girl accent) And then we were walking to the bar to buy, like, tequilas, and then, like, I saw this note on the ground and I was like, zomg, MONEY! So I pick it up and try to hand it to the guy who it was next to - but then my girl SMACKS my hand down with a whisper of death and says 'wtf you think you doing, boo?' And I was all, whaaaat? And she was like, 'keep it moving, booboo. He wouldn't have noticed anyway...' so, I like, totally kept it moving.

So the (drunk) guy noticed that we were trying to give him money, and then he was like, no, that's my money, I'll buy you a drink, and my friend was all, huh? What are you talking about? Then his (drunk) friend was like, whatever, let them have it.

3 shots, one cab ride and a weekend later...

I went to the atm, right? And it gave me money which I didn't bother to check, right? So then the next day on a Monday when I AM checking it...
THE MONEY WAS 2000 BOB LESS AND I HADN'T USED ANY MONEY SINCE THE MACHINE.
WHICH IS EXACTLY THE AMOUNT WE PICKED UP THAT NIGHT.
ZOMG THERE'S A KARMIC GHOST IN MY ATM MACHINE.

ZOMGZOMGZOMGZOMG

tSN

p.s. Also, I SUPPORT GAY RIGHTS.