Thoughts of quitting

The environment at work hasn't been the best of late. I've lamented and whined and for a while there, I'd stopped all that silliness. I'd decided to put up or shut up. More like put up.

So we [programmers] get called for a meeting today morning. Apparently some of us haven't been serious. We've just been surfing and not working. If we don't want to work we should say as much and we'll get yanked from the team. I just sat there thinking, "he's talking about me". Ok. There's a company rule that says we should only surf on work related matters and nominally on personal stuff. The only thing I do on the web that is strictly personal is posting on this blog, checking mail, the occasional football stories and bbc news headlines [I have an RSS feed on my bookmarks toolbar]. So there. I do use the net for some personal stuff. What I took issue most with is the fact that we were told that some of us hadn't done any work for the past 2 days and we should not leave the office today before completing some tasks we had. Was I asleep all that time? Was I surfing? Was I reading the paper? I don't think so. Even if that's all I did the last 2 days, what about the loads of extra hours we've put in in the last 3 months. Do they count for anything? I guess not.

So the thoughts of quitting came flooding back to me. I'm still here though. Why is it that people don't seem to appreciate what we do? Well, why is not a very useful question. I've had this complex all my life of wanting people to like me and thinking people should appreciate me and what I do. What a load of crap.

Given that money is not a real important motivating factor for me as far as jobs go, it's the little things that make it worth while. When that's no longer there, then it becomes a bit miserable. If this is how it is in every company, then I guess I need to start looking for the highest bidder. Perish the thought. Where did I get such crazy ideas like working at a place you like and not necessarily where you get paid the most money. Absolutely insane.

I tend to get up to no good when I'm in the bad, depressed mood I am in. I'll try take it easy this weekend. You guys enjoy yourselves ... and your work.

Trouble comes calling.

All TearDrop needs to do is sit and wait. In a bar. Of course, you go to the bar to drink, chokoza a few ladies if you have the psyche. The ladies in this class have a certain look to them.

Pubs of choice for manhunters are Psys (ish-ish), Choices (I don't know about K2), Carni. Tropez is a NO NO. When you come face to face with a real manhunter, you will run. In the opposite direction. Fast.

All ladies make me uncomfortable, but these are the ones that make me most uncomfortable. They are too cool, too collected, have heard most lines, seen just how deep a man (or most men's) pockets can go. A whole lot that makes you feel disjoint, lost. That's part of their appeal.

But that's me. May be a whole new approach is needed. Samborera? Your experience in this area is vast.

Small projects; Huge problems.

I have had nasty experiences with small, side projects, you know the kind you do for a quick buck. First, you find that your potential customer, knows absolutely zero about systems; And expects that the system you are going to build, will be the silver bullet, do away with all earthly problems.

One time, someone opened Adobe Photoshop, called a graphic designer who did a few tricks with a photo, and then asked me to write a "program" that will do something similar for an automatic bulk line card printer. Good thing we are not allowed to carry guns.

When you finally get to convincing a guy that 98.5% of what he/she is talking about is bullshit (of course, you use very nice language), the guy now tells you that he can only pay you 5000. Yeah right. At this point, I usually walk out. The "business" partner [this is usually the linkman to the customer], who is also responsible for the hare-brained idea of the system in the first place, usually kicks into high gear at this point. He knows that I cannot as much as face the direction of the customer at that price (programmer attitude). Time to ante-up things. The "linkman" calls the customer aside, does the fast talk, conjuring stories and lies, and manages to get the price to something like 30,000. Fair enough. So, my terms are, a deposit now before we start. The customer says he needs a demo. I need money.

The linkm(a /e)n, having many wiles, bribes me with a couple of beers. Sometimes, a beautiful woman is invited for company as we mull over very important matters. (Am I stupid or what?). Trick always works. I am a sucker for booze. Anyway, I bang up a demo program real quick in anticipation of some real money.

The customer, invariably throws a tantrum when he sees the product. Proposes a truckload of changes. At this point I have written code. I refuse to budge until I see money. Of course, the customer does not know this. So, a desperate linkman, might cough a bit, like 3000.

So I develop like to 80% completion, add a few backdoors and time bombs for the good of the world and head to install the product. Disaster usually starts here. At one time, I found a guy running 16MB RAM PCs X486, Windows 98 PCs. I have a product that uses MSDE , MDAC 2.8.
and ADO.Net. So I cut my losses, lose the linkman. Happy with the booze I have consumed on account of the project.

And so it happens everytime.
Different day, different kind of people, same results.

Of secret identities and seng'enge

I couldn't wait to check out how our introverted selves were doing today. Needless to say, I have a smile on my face. A couple of brief notes to start the day:

googler doesn't particularly like capital letters. it's actually makes things interesting when you look at posts for what they are, without the bias introduced by knowing who the blogger is.

TearDrop's frustrations at mamanzi wa Nairobi mirror what I've been saying here for the longest time. If you want conversations and anything else rather than just something pretty to look at, older women are the way to go. Kwanza those Man Hunters! They are a tad aggressive all right, but they are straight and forward, and probably have an opinion on the referendum if that's your fancy. I agree with your synopsis and will be more wary of those seng'enge types.

Finally, when you post, change the date and time hapo chini. The default dates seem to be of some server in the states. That way, the blog should flow more chronologically.

Friday, after this one.

Idd. Music to my tired ears.

No need to say that I am going to get drink myself silly.

back in the day

0.5 that's some excellent choice in music i must say. it really takes me back...way back to when we were all in 4th yr working on our projects tirelessly in the lab. back then there was an endless supply of all genres of music...including some of the tracks you mentioned...the nostalgia. i think back then the music kept us sane...and kind of let us get away from all the madness.

on other matters, it appears that people are rattling their brains trying to figure out my identity. that secret will stay safe with me...for now.

Gees may or may not make it to heaven ....

But 0.5 has that song in his hard disk. Ritchie Rich, right? He also has another old one by a fellow called Domino, the track is called Ghetto Jam. How about MosDef (Miss Fat Booty)? That too. A couple of old Bone Thugs tracks (crossroads, days of our lives, first of the month, weed song). I got Skee Loo. Like 3 Kriss Kross tracks (Young Rich and Dangerous), Da Brat (funkdafied (not sure will have to check), sittin' on top of the world).

All in all, I have a couple of old school rap tracks that would make a nice audio cd compilation.
I will search and publish a list of what I have, and Samborera will select the tracks he prefers.

moving pictures

recently i've had the opportunity to watch a whole bunch of newly released movies...which unfortunately all turned out to be a waste of time. actually, sleep would have been alot more entertaining. so my question is...are there any good movies out there? i'd really like to know. Personally, i'm a die hard fan of the lord of the rings trilogy, nothing else comes close.

Karibuni

We have some new bloggers in town! I'm sure you can feel my excitement. It was getting a bit lonely there. Blog away ...

Do G's get to go to heaven

Does anyone have this song by Richie Rich in some collection somewhere. I was in a mat on my way home jana when I heard it and I was really feeling it. Real rap music. Nothing at all like this g-unit, candy shop nonsense that kids listen to these days. It's no wonder I don't listen to hip hop anymore and instead have started feeling reggea riddims.

Weird Blog.

Have you guys noticed, that even though my posts may be most recent, they are still pushed down if someone else had posted earlier in the day.

Weird. My advice to blogger. These new movies are boring, a waste of time. Its the cast that tells a lot about the quality of a movie. Look for people like Morgan Freeman, Nicholas Cage, Travolta, Anthony Hopkins, Russell Crowe, Samuel L Jackson, DeNiro, Al Pacino, Bruce Willis, Ford e.t.c.

Don't watch Brad Pitt. Actresses are only excellent while alongside an excellent actor (no prejudice ladies. This is empirical, and you know you cannot argue with science)

Chances are you won't be disappointed.

i'm a newbee

hmmm....i just joined the blog. It took me close to an hour to figure out a name, coz just about every name i tried to choose was already taken....so i settled on googler. Which would be a very accurate description of me, because these days i find myself googling just about anything and everything under the sun!

The Man Hunters

I had an interesting encounter on Sato night, and an even more interesting read the next day when I had a look at the Nation's Saturday magazine [Can't find a link to the story on their website. And they have this ludicrous thing of registering to read articles anyway. What crap!]

Anyway. For those of you who haven't read the article, I'll do my high school English teachers pround and give a summary. The bottom line is this: There is a new breed of woman in Nairobi. The phrase 'sexually liberated Alpha Female' was used. The phrase would be a sufficient summary in itself, of this growing phenomenon.

Apparently, women are now liberated and part of this new found freedom entails being able to seek out and have sex when they want, with whoever they want. [As opposed to sitting back and praying that some guy will do the aforementioned and seek them out] After all, they are just doing what men are and have always done. Somewhere, someone decided that if women displayed such tendencies, they were sluts - to be shunned, but their male counterparts were studs - to be admired.

The typical Alpha Female is in her 30s, well educated, has a good job or thriving business, a car, house, probably a healthy bank account. No man, or at least no single steady man of the boyfriend/husband type in this equation. I'm not sure whether this is due to persistent heart break, or the mythical dearth of 'good' men, but one thing's for sure. This lifestyle and attitude to boy-girl relationships is on the up. You'll notice that I am not taking sides here, but I do have opinions on the matter.

We all have needs, so the saying goes, so these women seek out and get sexual/physical satisfaction whenever and with whom they wish. Basically a series of one-night stands is the way I understand it. No illusions of the guy calling you the day after or anything of that sort.

Now, here's my take on all this. First, I'm frightened. I liked a phrase in the article to the effect that women's sexual liberation is causing male impotence. Hmmm. I've always figured that women were the sensible sex to control the situation as far as sexual matters are concerned. Men left to their own devices would have sex with anything that moves, wherever and whenever they encounter it. Far fetched? Absurd? I'm not so sure. When women aspire to 'become' like or outdo men in this arena, then there's only one outcome. Chernobyl. I'm not self-righteous enough to stand on this podium and pass any form of judgement on women folk. It would be terribly hypocritical not to state that I like seeing women in those clothes they pick up from baby shops. However, it's this exact thing that has frightened me recently. I've realised that I'm not the good guy I once fooled myself I was. Essentially, I'm afraid of myself and am unsure, still, how to survive this new dispensation.

Disjoint. Disconnected.

I cannot form paragraphs. Consequently:

This week is too long.
Eric is now in China/Hong Kong.
I am very broke.
Someone just told me I hate talking to people. Half true, half false.
Today, it happened again. Beautiful woman, very pleasant. Our conversation never runs more than 5 words for each party. Sad.
1 week straight without beer. Revenge is in the air.
Many, many weeks without ANY female company. Pathetic. (ANY: all encompassing; a universal set that can contain anyone from Tyra Banks to the negative side of infinity)
Walked into one Michael today in the upper-level floors. (It is very drab up there, one would be forgiven for thinking the people up there have shards of glass for meals).
There is too much heat at night.
Too many mosquitoes.
A lot of dampness.
Malaria is waiting to knock me out. I can feel it. Dizziness. Laziness. Fatigue. Flash headaches. I am not ready to meet God yet.

That took a colossal effort to put together.

Ukosefu wa malezi bora ya wazazi

This is another interesting phrase that I picked up on Wednesday night from one philosopher. It was used to describe a couple of scenarios which I won't elaborate here, but needless to say, it was used quite appropriately.

If you think you know someone, have a couple of drinks with him, preferably Guinness.

Huko sirudi tena

I was warned about this Chillers place with these wise words, but noooo. I had to go and see for myself. I went, I saw and have this to say. Huko sirudi tena.

We checked in at like midnight and as we are at the entrance paying, there are screams of delight coming from the premises. The chic taking the money tells us to rush in [she even suggests that she'll bring us the change later; we should just go in] Since no one seems too excited, or about to break into a run, she fumbles with some notes and returns the change.

We walk in to witness for ourselves what the commotion is all about. There in nothing but a thong ... is some jamaa, holding/dancing with one of the female patrons of the place. All of a sudden, I start to feel sick and tired, and I want to go home. Seeing as we've just paid 2 soc entrance, we might as well linger a bit.

Later on, those chics in bad lingerie show up. They are attempting to dance erotically on the bar counter, one on each end. What a load of crap.

The place is neither a decent bar not club. It's a hoax.

Bubble Bust

Yes. This Chillers place is full of garbage. My curiosity has been quenched with a very forceful finality. I like the F2 show much better.

So, after Chillers, (a place I want to soon forget), we land ourselves at the other Florida (madhouse, or F1. My slang not upto date). This place is crowded. Full to the brim. In 10 seconds flat I have lost everyone. You are just lurching, pushing and shoving in a sea of warm, damp people. Reggae night. Must be a very popular concept, considering that the month iko kona mbaya mno.

Alas, Talia walked by. I don't know whoever told me she was tall. I was actually shocked. But for kicks, I just tapped her hand. I had a line at the ready. She proceeded to talk not very nicely. As a thank you for the compliment, I shooed her away like she is cheap. There was no thrill nor anger. I am just recording it for posterity. Anyway 'Maddie' is a place to avoid when it's that crowded (probably on a reggae night).

Otherwise, the night was quite interesting (after Chillers ......) as the high and the diplomatic was kicked out of the window. Bring on the raw.

Sinners @ Chillers

I got a text earlier this morning [a forward actually]. Something about 'sinners night' at a local restaurant called Chillers. But I was planning on having an early night; watch some football and sleep.

They had to go on and promise that there'll be strippers. Now that's just not fair. It's the same way young gorgeous chics are used as marketing execs [sales people]. A guy just can't say no.

Anyway, I'll check it out. I know I'm a sinner but I'll try not to overdo things. At the very least I'll have something to blog about on Friday.

BitTorrent

I usually read fortune.com, the world of high finance is intriguing. This week's feature was BitTorrent's inventor Bram Cohen. Not that Cohen is into high finance or anything, quite the contrary. His application, they say, constitutes a third of all internet traffic. The program is, yes, open source. Only the name BitTorrent is a trademark.

Keben uses it to download whole movies (I have in my possession Carlito's Way, a mafia flick by Al Pacino, in VCD format, available if anyone is interested). Using our very own nearly non-existent Kenyan bandwidth. Takes about 4 hrs a movie. The Hollywood guys are hollering madly.

My next step, was to want to look at the innards of such a brilliant product. So I download the source code, a nifty 490 KB. The executable is approximately the same size. No monstrous libraries and dlls. And yes, like all brilliant things, this one is complex. I cannot decipher a single line of code, especially because I have become a language specific freak. Its written in Python (what is it with this language?), and seems to have some traces of AI and serious maths in the algorithms (from the readme files and other un-related information).

Jolly Good.

For Real.

I have heard about these sinners. Who ever was telling me about it also remembered to add that it was the "real thing". He did not say what this "real thing" is. My bet is that no one needs a lot of imagination to figure it out, so I might just as well see if "real" is as real as the way I know it.

But! I know how these guys play people. The interesting stuff, if there is any, takes place well into the night. That way, you are all kept drinking, enriching someone, waiting for the master of ceremonies (or shall I say Mistresses at the ceremony? ) to check in. To sinners!

We shall see.

I just met a Kikuyu muslim woman. Sophisticated, calm and collected. Brown and beautiful as hell.

HeeeeeeeHaaaaaaaaaaa.
There is no end in sight.

What it takes

I had a depressed and introverted weekend and the result was that I wasn't calling anyone. I've had an interesting reaction as a result of laying low like an envelope. I'm quite bemused at how women operate. If you call them, you are a whipped, desperate jamaa. Well. That may be true, but still ... Don't call for a couple of days and THAT'S when she'll make an attempt at contacting you, with the obligatory 'you are so silent' line.

Apparently women want to feel needed. They feel good when guys call them or give them attention of some sort. As soon as no one is doing this, some alarm bells start going off. I figure there must be some truth to this. Of course there's also all that stuff they were told when we were in std. 6 and the girls used to have all manner of meetings with the class teacher.

I find it ridiculous that if I like a chic, I'd have to not call her when I want to, otherwise I'd be put in the list of pathetic, spineless, desperate jamaas. I've not been one to conform, so I'll continue doing things the way I like ... and keep getting the same results.

Transporter 2 is out

I chanced on a movie review in the papers the other day of the sequel to the Transporter. I didn't read about the plot and what not; the photo of Jason Statham was enough. That and the fact that I'd probably want to see the movie anyway inspite of what the movie critic said in the piece. So as it is, the movie is showing at some Nu Metro cinema or other. Too bad it's not closer to the real world. Thank goodness for VCDs and DVDs.

There's something about British movies/programmes/people [as opposed to American ones] that's just so real you can't help but like them. The accent alone would be a winner [I love the way they say 'boat' when they mean to say 'but']. Their American counterparts are just too fake. Take their sitcoms for instance. [What is a situation comedy even?] Bland, predictable, fake, yadda, yadda, yadda. British humour on the other hand is edgy, witty, real comedy. The Brits may be eccentric, but they win hands down. Perhaps it's this exact reason that gives them the edge. Who cares about block buster hype. Go out and watch 'Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels' then tell me what you think about box office hype. It's just crap.

On another note, Pierce Brosnan is no longer James Bond. There's a new Bond in town, and we should be seeing him in action some time next year. Can't wait.

Dull. Lifeless. Mundane. Grey.

It has been a very hectic last few days. Some people have gone on leave, leaving me brutally exposed. Then there is this on call thing, guys have been calling me at very ungodly hours, making unreasonable demands.

Of course, my wallet is ailing. I cannot read. My course is on hold until I can find some sort of rhythm. Aich! After Thursday? What will be there to look forward to? Just the regular short weekend.

It is now evident that I am not saying much of anything. I will therefore close shop and head home.

Till we get 'rich'. At the end of the month.

The trouble with younguns

They may look great in their tight fitting pieces of clothing, but unless you have a business type relationship [I give you this, you give me that], they can be a big disappointment. I'm not about to lump all younger chics into this pot, but my experiences thus far have made me decide to avoid them completely. Don't approach them, don't exchange numbers, nothing.

Take earlier this afternoon for instance. I get flashed by this chic I met a couple of weeks back [I'm yet to meet one who's actually spent her credit to call me. I just had a sobering thought. Maybe it's just me! Hmmmm]. Anyhow. I call her back, knowing I don't really have much to say but thinking she may be in town and we could do lunch or something. After a big of mumbling on both our parts, she asks me to sambaza her. I don't complain because I knew this was a distinct possibility. I think I'll just delete her number and move on with my life.

Note to self: Never ask a chic where she gets money to pint. [She mentioned that she was drinking over the weekend and I happened to ask where she gets cash from to drink. I touched some nerve or other and was told never to ask such a question of a chic]

Mad Season.

I was returning Eric's hard disk yesterday (Sunday). To celebrate this momentous occasion we check into Hornbill. Eric, who is on leave from today, was on fire. So we drink well into the night (1200AM).

As usual, I trek to the stage and haul myself into a mathree. Nothing happens until we reach the Carni junction. A good number of people alight. As we move off again, there are loud noises in the in the back. Wow! Its was like an entire sea was sloshing about in a tea cup. So I look back; Alas, a fellow was furiously kissing a girl.

Being very high, I just stare on, mannerlessly. Being high for their own part, they don't give one damn. Suddenly, the guy hikes up the chic's top, hooks his finger on her bra, and yanks the thing free. He proceeds to roam all over, like a conquering Hitler.

I am producing incomprehensible noises now. The guy was in the mechanics of pulling down her trousers when the chic noticed I was staring at them. She pushed him off and tried to hurriedly cover her exposed breasts.

And thus the end came too quickly for this in-the-flesh movie.

Star Downloader Free

Back in the day, when I could download and install any and all nice and interesting software I could come across, I had the same frustrations of 0.5 about using DAP as a download manager/accelerator. The thing that did it for me was the flashing ads. Yuk. [I didn't get to version 7 even]. So I did what I do [or used to do]. Googled my head off for some app to do this. Star Downloader was the easy winner on this one.

This is what I've learnt from this and similar experiences. If it says shareware or 15 day trial or something, I don't give it a second look. [I don't give anything commercial a first look even]. There's nothing as bad as getting used to a piece of software just for it to expire on you. Save yourself the pain. [I tried that stuff of saving dumps of the registry and harddisk before the install, but it's just too much pain]

There are too many useful free apps out there for you to struggle with anything else. By free here I mean free and open source software [otherwise known as FOSS]. Take HTTrack for instance. After my initial experiences with WebStripper, I figured there must be a FOSS alternative; and there was. I'm not a user so I don't care about fancy, beautiful looking, mostly bloated apps. I want a small thing that works. And HTTrack even has a firefox extension that uses its engine, SpiderZilla, so you don't even need to install the fully fledged app.

For a programmer to be confined to MSFT tools and applications, as I have for all practical purposes, is just tragic. There was a time I used to visit sourceforge a lot, just to see what guys are up to. If there's one good thing FOSS has done for software, is that it has shaken up the big boys a bit and forced them to improve their software and not just collect licence fees. It's also provided lots of useful tools for developers.

I won't deny that I don't like MSFT, but I'm not dogmatic in my loathing. Word is a good word processor. .NET is just java and c++ a couple of years late. It's a good thing, but there's no need for any hype about something that has been around for ages.

Next time you need an app, check out your FOSS alternatives. Why settle for less.

Road Trip 2

The sequel will be taking place this sato [kesho], with guys off to Naks. I won't make it for this one, but you know who to talk to to join in the fun.

Got DAP ver 5.0?

If you want your day to end well, do not install the Download Accelerator 7.5.

It is so annoying, I am just livid. It is UNUSABLE! Then they have done that crackware thing where you can't uninstall the program. Plus there is this whole thing of submitting your e-mail fro an activation code. It pretends to look for an installation log sure as hell it didn't create and aborts the uninstall if it can't "find" it. I had to go to the registry to get it out by the roots.

Then it has these dialog that has baby like text in blue "can't download, please help us to help you", "read step by step instuctions on configuring ....".

If you guys the decent 5.0 version, please zip and send me.

Arrrgggggghhhhhhhh!

Me Too.

Can't go as well. I am on call at work till Thursday next week. Terrifying.
I am broke. My folks are coming tomorrow.

I would have loved to go for that one.

Why I buy women drinks

I must have extolled the virtues of older women sufficiently on this blog already. Another good thing about them is that they can buy their own drinks. They can also buy you a couple, some food, and drop you off home.

However, I have accepted that if I'm to mingle with younger chics, there's a distinct possibility of having to buy them drinks and call them back after they flash me. I do it just so that I can have someone to call when I'm lying in my bed on those lonely nights. For chics who I meet in pubs, I do it for the company. I figure it's a fair trade. It's a good thing I don't drink, cause the damage that this kind of behaviour does to your wallet is amazing. You don't realize how bad the damage is until it's too late.

Another thing. Never feel obligated to buy a chic a drink, just because you started a conversation with her. If she feels hot after you tell her you can't buy her a drink [for whatever reason], forget her and move on to the next chic.

The IceMan

Next time you watch The Incredibles, listen keenly to the voice of the jamaa who mwagas ice all over the place. Samuel L. Jackson. Last time I checked, he held the record for the guy who's been in the highest cumulative grossing movies of all time. If you have that guy on your flick, chances are it will be a hit. I'm definitely a fan.

Wednesday Festival.

On reflection and with benefit of hindsight, it is now clear the black jamaa is him. Used to seeing the man in normal movies. Its amazing what these hollywood guys can do.

Yesterday, I did the usual. Wednesday festival with one Eric and another guy. On my fifth beer or so, I talked to a woman. It was sudden, just turned and started talking, no pre-meditation. It was awesome. Soon she was bubbly, though tricky.

Somewhere down the line she innocently slipped "si you buy me a drink?" into the conversation, and pretended to be disgusted at another lady who was dancing, mouth in a smirk. I almost missed it. It was expertly done. The timing, its all about the timing. There are 3 steps they take:

1) X, where X is the prospective buyer, must be contemplating ( at the moment) buying another beer for himself. This manifests itself by X fiddling with the near empty bottle/glass.

2) Drop the "si you buy" line in soft tones, right in the thick of fast conversation.

3) Diversion. Pretend to be caught up in something. Silence is generally regarded as 'yes' in many quarters. Since she seems busy, you cannot talk to her for a short while. You are silent. You have intrinsically said yes. It basically becomes very hard to say no after a moment's pause. Your hide is nailed to the wall. Expertly.

But I was sharp last night. I had earlier told her that we were only taking one drink (the current one) then go. That saved the day. No sooner had she started her pitch about me buying her a drink than I came back with a swift rejoinder.
"So damn broke, thats why I am going home after this beer. Honestly wish I could". Expert rebuttal.

Can't be generous. These are hard times indeed.

Wise Words. And Absolutely True.

I got this from a nice website.
Joel On Software
Perfectly mirrors our working lives.

Custom development is that murky world where a customer tells you what to build, and you say, 'are you sure?' and they say yes, and you make an absolutely beautiful spec, and say, 'is this what you want?' and they say yes, and you make them sign the spec in indelible ink, nay, blood, and they do, and then you build that thing they signed off on, promptly, precisely and exactly, and they see it and they are horrified and shocked, and you spend the rest of the week reading up on whether your E&O insurance is going to cover the legal fees for the lawsuit you've gotten yourself into or merely the settlement cost. Or, if you're really lucky, the customer will smile wanly and put your code in a drawer and never use it again and never call you back.

Going down a familiar road ...

I had an incident the other day, that I've mentioned briefly in a previous post, that brought back some scary and exciting memories - A chic kicking me out of her room during the late hours of the night.

It was back in 2nd year when I had my first taste of this mind altering substance called paroxetine hydrochloride. I had a pretty major breakdown, physically and mentally. Missed campus for a while, even thought of deferring. I couldn't function. This is the real reason why I stopped drinking. [The fact that I used to puke so often after drinking made this decision that much easier].

Now, this substance is not one to play with ovyo ovyo. [It doesn't cost 100 bob per tablet for nothing]. All of a sudden I was transformed into some hyper, randy guy [I was actually voted most randy guy that year during some annual awards we used to have back then]. All inhibitions went out the window. I had something to say to every chic I met. My mind was moving at 100 kph. I could hardly sit still and concentrate on something. [I wonder to this day how I passed 2nd year.]

I started making trips to Hall 12 [where the lovely medic chics used to reside] and would sit or lay on their beds mpaka they threw me out. When exams came around, things didn't change at all. This was the routine.

We'd chuck from Chiromo after having done an exam and had breakfast then have a siesta mpaka late afternoon. I'd then wake up, just in time to have supper. After supper, I'd make an attempt to look at notes for the coming exam. Around 9 pm, I would start getting restless and funga my books/handouts, and make my way to Hall 12. I'd typically chuck from Hall 12 [after criss-crossing a couple of rooms] at about 1 am, and head back to my bed in Hall 2. I'd swatch and wake up the next day just in time to rush for that day's exam. This went on for virtually the whole period of first sem exams at least. I can't remember second sem too well, but I figure it was much of the same.

So when I was kicked out last Friday night, these memories came rushing back and I've decided not to go down that road again. My body is willing [to stop], but my mind is weak. One way or another, I'll survive.

I wouldn't have made it through 2nd year without you guys. True friends you are.

Younguns

To borrow a word that one brilliant guy likes using, I met a couple of younguns the other day [Moi day].

A cousin of mine was getting married and I happened to meet a younger sister of hers who I hadn't seen for a long time. She just happened to have come with a bunch of her pals [the younguns], but there was one who was particularly striking. They were all clad in all manner of tight fitting things as you'd expect. I've actually had one chic tell me she can't put on 'loose' clothes. Which reminds me, was at a funeral harambee jana and there was a chic who went up front to give some cash. All the time she was hapo mbele I was just feeling pain. She had the mandatory tight pants on. Yaani your eyes would just go to her ass, and the only way to avoid this was not to look in her direction at all. [Of course, in a different setting, I'd not have been as embarassed]

Anyway. I digress. So I hang out with these chics, through the reception and stuff. Listening to them talk made me a bit sad. I don't know their ages, but I hope hawakuwa under 18. Kiddish stuff basically. So I got the number of this looker [with a huge ass]. Am I obsessed or what. Now I'm not sure what to do with her number. I'm not sure what kind of conversation we can have, or if her company would be worth it. One of the things that came to my mind as I mulled over whether to ask her for her number or hook up later was the fact that she'd be like a trophy to parade around.

I think I'm not that old, to derive pleasure from the mere fact that other people would see me with a beautiful woman. Besides, she's young and probably looking for a boyfie, which I am not. I'll try to keep away from the younguns.

Quelle dommage [It's a pity]

I witnessed an incident [more like a situation] on Sunday night that just broke my heart. I was lying in my bed on Sunday evening listening to reggae [as is the norm these days].

Let me get to the crux of my post. We end up at Choices, while away the time kidogo, blah, blah, blah. So. At some point I notice a chic leaning on a counter, apparently all alone. My mind starts doing the frog thing. You know. Revving like a Formula 1 machine. [I can't type the sound effect]. I think to myself. "There's no way she's alone", but she doesn't seem to be waiting for anyone, or doing anything else to suggest she has company.

Just as I'd gathered enough guts to go up to her [like 5 mins worth], she starts walking away! I couldn't believe my luck. The horses had already bolted though and there was no turning back. I follow her, like a panther stalking an unsuspecting potential meal. She meets up with a galfriend of hers and they start chatting. I can see she's not enjoying herself too much, but I have learnt not to approach a chic when she's with her buddy. Her attitude towards you will be greatly influenced by how she thinks her pals will react. It's not worth it.

I bide my time and watch some game of pool going on. After some time, they start walking towards where I am. They're still together! I hold my ground. Just as they fikia me, some guy starts vibing the buddy to the chic I've been stalking. Now I can see she's not too impressed with the evening's goings on. Ok. Her buddy has a big ass and what not, but she's tallish, black and an ass of her own. The time's still not right.

The jamaa finishes his marriage proposal so they move on. I follow. They stop. So do I. At this point I'm actually starting to feel like a stalker. It's a good thing I look and behave drunk, so not too many people seem to notice my awkward movements around the club. They make a U-turn and head back to where they were. At this point, it's like we are attached via some invisible string, so I also do a U-turn, now utterly confused and getting disillusioned.

Finally she makes her way back, alone this time. I figure it's about time, but soon go into panic mode. She seems to be leaving! She's not going to leave without me getting a word in. "Excuse me", I go. Blah, blah, blah. I saw you at the counter earlier. Blah, blah. "Are you leaving already?". Yeah she is. I'm crushed. If I had a sword I would fall on it, like a noble warrior accepting defeat.

As luck would have it, we are also leaving. I look around [we are at the basement] but she's already gone. As I'm walking up the ramp, she walks past me in quite a haste. I have to decide what to do, and fast. She's walking like the ground is on fire. "Excuse me!", I shout. Then again. Nothing. I'm not ready to give up yet so I up my pace. At this point, I'm almost running after her. She leaves the club and I stand back a bit, waiting to see if she's going to her car or catching a cab.

She starts walking towards K2, much slower this time, like one who's lost. A second chance! I fuata her. By this time she's stopped by the roadside looking all confused and stuff. I ask if I can get her number and she replies in the affirmative. It's more like an after thought. Like a conditioned response. I'm not too enthused myself. She asks me where she can get a cab and I point her in the direction she'd come from.

We meet cab driver number 1. 5 soc to her place. Hapana. She only has 4 soc on her. On to cab number 2. Same story. Then she starts sobbing. I'm a bit taken aback, but I put on a brave face and try to tell her everything is ok. Now, she's basically crying. She has to chuck her specs to wipe off the tears. I try to tell her I'll ongeza cash so that she can get home but I don't seem to be getting through. I offer to pay the full fare for her, but she's not too keen on anything I'm saying.

Finally, some guy she knows [who has a car] drives by [he was also in the club and is now leaving] and she practically begs the guy to give her a ride. From the way she's talking, I figure they live in the same neighbourhood. The guy makes as if he's not interested but finally agrees to let her in. She jumps in. "Thanks", she says.

I'm dismayed. I want to stand around in the hope that she'll jump out of the car, give me a big hug [and her number] before leaving, but some strange sense of pride engulfs me.

I don't know the details of the circumstances that this chic was in, but am appalled at how she ended up. I blame myself for not approaching her earlier, and making her evening a little less traumatic. I don't know if I'll meet her again, or if she'd remember me. Her having to beg for a ride home was particularly hard to take. I'm not a good guy, but there are some things that you just don't do.

I hope to meet her again. I may not have the noblest of motives, but thank God I have a heart.

For the record

I have lots to blog about [It was, after all, a long weekend].

First things first. I didn't spend Friday night in anyone's bed. I was kicked out at about midnight, at which point I called up some chic, who apparently was at Tacos. Mimi huyooo ...

0.5, you know the rest.

Distress and Danger. They go hand in hand.

Back in Eastleigh, I had a neighbour (next door). Eric used to stay one floor up. My "cager" was the "disneyland". Movies, booze (the clear kind) and lots of company. Now, my neighbour (not Eric) had an unbelievably beautiful chic. I had / still have very dark thoughts about her. The guy used to multi-dog her. And she knew about it.

One night it came to a head. The guy threw her out. Cold bastard. She was sobbing on the verandah, with only a nightdress on. We were there, concerned, asking whats the problem. She would just sob some more. She hugged Eric (lucky bugger) and cried on his shoulder for almost an hour.

Poor Eric thought he was going to snatch the mama from the jamaa. Nope. Not while the sun would rise and set everyday. After exchanging smiles, gallivanting between my place and his, she was promptly back to her lover's den in a week; and put on the ice again. Soon they were making dinners and infuriating me with their blues music.

Much later, the chic (I had used another word here) broke the guy's TV and radio and smashed his windows. And started distributing; On almost a business level. I stayed clear. So did Eric. I had this chilling visions of huge knives and parts of my anatomy on the floor.

Guts

It's Monday [Moi day] mid-day. I've checked into a cyber because I have lots to blog about, and doing this at work would constitute 'abuse of computer equipment' or something like that. Which reminds me. Yet another guy has quit our firm, and will be leaving in 2 weeks. Guys are running for the hills. Mostly programmers that is. Why do employers not realise that you need to pay good people [read programmers. I'm biased like that] well or else they leave. 0.5's firm is looking to hire a programmer but they are talking about doing web stuff. I know I'm no good at that stuff, so I'm not sure about applying there.

I have just realised that the Cyber I'm at is charging 3 bob per min. I'm not about to blog away at this prices.

The saga continues tomorrow ...

Tonight

I've just got a text from some chic I met at Psys last Sato [0.5 had already left by then]. She wants to hook up tonight to 'shake some booty'.

I don't know. I have a cold, and I'm watching my wallet closely [and it's not yet mid-month yet]. I'll probably end up passing by and saying hi. [Truth be told, I was kind of hoping some other chic will take me up on my offer to spend the night at her place leo, lakini a guy has to make do with what he has]

It seems I may not have a laid back couple of days after all. But. The Incredibles is definitely one of the best movies I've seen lately [More proof of my theory that you can't go wrong where Samuel L. Jackson is involved].

wrapping the rotten week up.

For guts, Samborera is unparalleled. But the same guy says normal is boring. I try to imagine myself asking a chic if I could spend the night, and I have not known her a long time, and my mind goes zeelch! Blank. May be because my head is very deep in gutter.

It is 6.48 PM. I am still in the office. I am trying to reconstruct billing data from badly mangled raw files; And not succeeding.

They took the PDA. Damn shame. The good thing is that I never got fond of the thing. I guess subconsciously, I knew something like this would happen. As a consolation, I have been given a flat screen monitor. Those are hard to come by in this place. Perhaps someone will want that as well in the near future.

Samuel L Jackson is in Incredibles? As what, producer, director or one of those funny cartoon voices? Unless we are not talking the same movie.

2 plus 4? 2.

Last night I was at Tropez.
The place was hardly full considering that the month is still in its childhood and next Monday is a holiday. I wanted to take 2 and then go home.

I took two alright. Then I took four more. And smoked half a pack of cigarettes. And for all these evil activities I am sad. I have a hangover, and a smouldering chest. Did I forget my wallet? Thoroughly dented. Whats the point? I will not even go into the whole cigarette charade of how bad the things are. I will smoke them when I want, wherever I want, because I am an idiot.

But the music, something has to be said about the rock at Tropez on the Thursday of (06) Oct 2005. It was terrific. I have not had the opportunity to listen to such a sizzling session of music in the recent past. 5 hours. Pheeeeew!

Seeing that we have ahead of us three days of rest, and little money, I must ask for ideas on how to spend the weekend without getting bored (you know bored leads to drunk to broke).
I will watch "The Incredibles" for the 6th time. Now there is one movie I don't get tired of.

See you guys later in the day.

A long weekend awaits

The week is already over, and yet another weekend is upon us. I have maintained for a long time now that time is moving faster than it used to before, like when I was in primary school. [And don't tell me it's because I'm busier now]

Monday will be a public holiday in these parts of the world and that will give us an opportunity to chill. I have a cousin who's getting married on that day [and a work mate who's doing the same thing on sato. There's love in the air, ama people are just making good use of an extra day off work]

I'm tempted to start making calls to find out if I can have some distractions over the coming few days, but I know better. I'm already treading a thin line as far as disposable income is concerned, so meeting up with some chic is not in my best interests. Having said that, my days [and posts] have hardly been too interesting of late. I think I needed a cool down period to prevent a chenorbly like event as a result of fuataring too many women. I can now declare that I have recovered and shall only seek friendship from the chics I way lay.

Either way, it's important to enjoy yourself. That's one of the 3 things that life is about. [The other 2, of course, are eating and drinking]

My first all nighter

The other day I pulled my first all nighter in the office. We have all worked late, but it was a unique experience for me, leaving the office at 0630 after having reported at 0930 the previous day.

Such has been the nature of work over the past one month or so. High pressure, elusive bugs and ever looming deadlines. One crisis after another.

I've met a number of people who've remarked how it's better to have a job than not. True, but I can't help but think that it's a case of the grass being greener over the septic tank. I've had members of my family ask me to leave my current job, maily because of the stresses of the current development cycle [like 3 months worth]. My eyes have indeed been opened in this period and I've learnt a lot about the working life [Most of it not very nice].

So next time you see me dancing like a man possessed, that's my way of blocking out the numbing pressures and pain that work is dishing out.

And where are we all running to?

I have been walking the databases.

I have realized, I am majorly impatient. If an age list were to be made in this place, from the youngest to the oldest, I am confident I would make TOP 15. To be more precise, I only know one person who is younger than me.

But I want to be like guys who have been here 5 years. Guys who are approaching 35.
It can't happen. There is only one road. The long, trechearous one.
Today, I know that I am young. That feeling like I am marching on the same spot has been lifted somewhat.

There is time. A lot of time.

smile, rollercoaster on the way.

Alas, Ramadhan begun about two days ago.

And why should that make me or anyone happy? Because there will be a holiday called Idd-Ul-Fitr somewhere down the line. The feasting that the Muslims will indulge is irrelevant. All I can ask for is that the moon will not play musical chairs and land us that holiday on a Saturday.
That will be a colossal waste.

4 holidays in the space of two months. Unbelievable.

The Truth

I have had quite an interesting time of late, as evidenced by the nature of my posts. I have been doing all sorts of outrageous and insane things. [If you know that you are insane, then, are you really]

Anyway, you may think that I've morphed into some smooth operator, or that I have nerves of steel [and matching guts], but you'd be mistaken. I've taken the credit for too long and this post is aimed at setting this right.

The main reason for all the crazy stunts [and guts of a madman] can be summed up in 2 words. Paroxetine hydrochloride. Guys in the office frequently remark how I behave as if I'm high and I've always wanted to tell them that I am indeed. If I told them I take 'happy pills', they'd probably treat me weird.

I've had some problems with anxiety and panic [I'll probably blog on these matters at some point in the future] and for a while now I've been taking medication just to be able to function. I can remember a time when I couldn't even go to work, till my shrink came to my rescue. [Yes, any time I mention my shrink on this blog, I'm likely referring to the real thing] One of the dawas that I'm currently on to help alleviate/control/overcome my anxiety problems messes up with the brain and the effects are clear for everyone to see. Lots of energy, loss of inhibitions, an unnaturally extreme desire, to mention a few.

Basically, it's like you're drunk lakini with most of your functions/senses intact. That's how I can ask the chic I was visiting on Sunday evening if I could spend the night at her place. I would normally not do such a thing. I'm not sure which is the 'real' me.

Anyway. Now you know.

The way of all the earth

This week started on a rather dark, gloomy and sombre way for me. I was woken up on Sunday morning with the news that one of my cousins had passed away hours earlier. We have all lost relatives and friends, but I suppose it's the fact that she was my age mate, one of the few relatives that I could actually hang out with [although I didn't do that nearly enough], that was/is hardest to take.

Consequent to this event, I have had, once again, to look at my mortality straight in the face. Something I avoid like the plague. To say that life is short is a horrible understatement. I heard once a guy say something like 'Life is crap ... and then you die'. The wisest man to walk this earth proclaimed that life is useless. Yaani crap. For a 25 year old, to die after being ill for 2 days, and just hours after being admitted to hospital is pretty crappy. How am I any different from her, or some guy who was in some car crash. I'm not.

Yesterday, I was forced to reckon that there are very few things that are important in this life. Anything that dies with you is definitely not worth worrying about. We must strive to affect this world and the people in it in positive ways. That and have a relationship with God, doing all the stuff that he asks of us. Everything else is crap.

Hold on, everyone. Land is in sight ....

The blog seems to be engulfed by a dark cloud.

I check in, but I can't stay long. I have attempted to post, but the words simply refuse to form. I like to think that someone reads my sometimes not very coherent thoughts. That is why I cannot keep a diary, even if my life depended on it.

For all you guys going through a rough patch, pole sana.

I think I will go home now.

Me and my big mouth

It occurred to me yesterday that I often try to be witty, funny and generally clever [when I'm not] and often end up saying outrageous things, lies, outright lies and so on. Basically, it rarely comes off.

I had to go and do it again, and ask if anyone has lost their job. Self-fulfilling prophesies I heard they are called.

Anyway, there's a teacher we had in primo who used to say "Keep Shut Up!". Probably for emphasis. Today, I think I'll take up his advice, and talk less. Much less. So what if I'll be labelled boring, snob, introvert. It'll be a bit of a challenge, keeping mum when your mind is screaming "say something!". I think it'll be for my own good though.

I'll pour a little liquour for kamikaze tonight [Seeing as I can't drink some]. Things will get better. Keep your head up.