Advice

When we were in high school, at some point, they introduced an "office", or institution, or persona or something, named guidance and counselling. Can't remember if there was a near riot or how that came into being. Anyway. It was one of those things I considered for other people. I think it was part psychosocial and part career advice.

So I was thinking the other day, if I was asked to give young guys advice on careers and the like, what I would say. You know the way they invite some guy who's been working for a while, to inspire guys in his alma mater about certain careers and stuff.

I wouldn't take up such an invite. There are two likely outcomes. One is that I'll perpetuate that when I grow up I want to be a neurosurgeon thing that kids do. It always amazes me when KCSE results come out. What would that kid in Std 8 know about neurosurgery. Do teachers or parents tell the kids, subliminally or otherwise, that kind of thing. Does he say it because that's the most prestigious thing to do for a living. The one with most financial gain? Or does his dad spend all his time in operating theatres, doing incomprehensively complex surgeries and losing a tonne of patients, and the kid does want to follow suit. At some point in my youth my mum did give me a copy of gifted hands to read. But it was more out of religious and social reasons, rather than career ones. I think it was about the time I'd started stopping going to church. Anyhow. At least I got to know what neurosurgery is. Was fascinated by the concept of a lobotomy. Anyway. I didn't grow up to become a neurosurgeon. Far from.

The other likely scenario is I would end up poisoning their minds. My view of jobs hasn't exactly been healthy and it wouldn't be fear to load that on them. It's better if they made up their own minds about career and stuff. They wouldn't believe anything I told them anyway. I remember when filling out the forms for choice of university degree the one thing I was sure about was what I didn't want to do. Had no clue about what I wanted to do. What a nightmare. Finally filled out my choices the night before the deadline. My first choice was based on the fact that one of my fellow cubemates had chosen that course. And the required subject cluster for me would consist of Maths, Physics, Chem and Georg or something. I actually got inspired after that. The thought of my cluster was enough to motivate me to read about diffraction and stuff. Not quite enough to read Abbott, but enough to make me read. It was do or die.

So I would prefer not to advise. On matters of career, and in general. The thought and responsibility of someone else doing something because you said so is pretty daunting. I can share my experience, perhaps venture an opinion if really pressed, but tell someone outright do this or the other. That's tough.

never judge a book by its rear

i don't know abt you, but every time i am behind a lady with a great behind, i tend to hurry up so that i can see a nice face, and may be start a great conversation. who knows.
My disappointments always is that a nice a$$ doen't go with a pretty face. Always

The Banana and the Blackforest

Never cared much for History. But before I started suicidally addling my brain with the good old Tusker, I recall reading somewhere about a Chinese general (or is it British?), in one war or the other who shunted off a small batallion of soldiers in one direction to distract the enemy. The rest of the troops, were able to penetrate the territory as their colleagues got slaughtered. Chilling.
Kamikaze can be a war-time general: This is because of deft and very astute decision making delivered last Friday. Shall we dial back?

9PM and 0.5 steps into Tropez to find one Kamikaze, the Banana (and her friend), the Colonel and another bloke or two doing the usual. I need about three beer to shake off the cobwebs accumulated from the toil of the last week, but on this occasion things were different. It takes only one and the arrival of Blackforest (and yes! her friend) at the table. Kamikaze visibly slumped, eyes closed involuntarily and mouthed on autopilot 'bloody f**king sh**!' - or something like that. I am darkly amused.

The dance then began in earnest. I can assure, no entertainment beats having a ringside seat to such drama. The Colonel dived headlong into the Banana - not literally. The Kamikaze, started a complicated routine of talking one up, then the other. Time Division Multiplexing. Beautiful. I have always wanted to draw a parallel between real life and a computer processor. Then the other bloke started chatting up Blackforest's friend. Then the Banana, started talking to Blackforest's friend. The alarms lit up and one Kamikaze went...what the f**k is happening? Alas, the old reverse psychology.

As everyone was busy talking, avoiding breach of boundaries and clawing each other, the Blackforest got up with her friend, started dancing. Then, she dug her hands into her butt and kissed her for ...I can't remember..about five seconds. Heady stuff.

3AM. Time has moved fast. The club is about to shut down. A fork on the road. Which way to go? Then Kamikaze stands and does that unbelievable piki piki ponki thing that many of us have done when faced with a difficult situation (hey, my present career is based on a coin toss - who am I to start throwing stones?). I guess the dice landed on the Banana and in one swift action, the kamikaze commandeered the Banana, her friend and the rest of the party out of the pub. Its like Blackforest had ceased to exist. Clinical. Pure cojones. When two women I was seeing met at one table (long time ago), I RAN out.

The aftermath. The blackforest unleashed a mile long course of vitriol and invective. Kamikaze, I can quite assure you, you have never been call an assh*** quite so many times within the space of five minutes. Her friend was not very bothered. I had tuned out of all the cursing and was beginning to hatch a scheme or two on the friend. She is cute in a naughty sort of way. The Blackforest was distraught and wanted to drink, then in the light of what had happened I figured people might not be in a rolling mood today, so I shelved my designs on Blackforest's friend. Then there is her sister (Blackforest) but that is a story for another day.

Who knows what will happen Saturday evening?

Grin

Why, you ask, do I have this huge grin on my face. OK. I had it earlier.

One reason is that I'm on leave. Obviously. Can't remember the last time I had time to blog on a day other that Saturday or Sunday. I've discovered how to get leave, which can be pretty elusive. One way is to do that carpe diem stuff. Take a day off. Don't ask anybody, just don't go to work. It's a really good feeling. Not sure that this is for everyone, but if you are the type who finds getting leave approved difficult, it's also likely that nobody will do anything about you not showing up to work for one day. You've probably made up for that day many times over. One other way is to leave the guy [dis]approving your leave with something to think about. Show up to work at 11 on a couple of occasions, and wait for the confrontation that won't come. If it does, you just declare your fatigue and ask for one month off [because you likely have that many days pending]. There are other ways still, even more extreme, but then again they aren't for everyone.

The other reason was the possibility of doing something crazy/away from the norm. Normal really is boring, and there's something distinctly appealing about going against what is expected of you. The model shmodel.

The last reason was EVE. Ha.

Complicated

I got asked the other day, if hooking up with her would complicate this. This? This is some amorphous thing. Mara she wants to be friends, mara she wants me to say kinky things.

And what, pray tell, would complicate mean. Apparently complicated would mean expectations to date and hang out a lot with her. I couldn't help but laugh. She obviously doesn't know me that well. I spend half the time at work, and the other half asleep. Haven't dated in I don't know... Forever? Complicate this? Not me.

60 mins

It all started pretty innocently. A guy minding his business. Two chics minding theirs. At some point their paths cross and the guy realizes it's the two chics he met 3 months back. OK. In my world, seeing qualifies as meeting. But it's always easier approaching someone you've seen before, even though you may not have talked really.

So the night goes along, and I continue to mind my business. I'm drawn back towards my acquaintances though, and one in particular. One of those things you find yourself doing. If you see her upper body you'd understand. Dancing is still what I do. Alvaro wasn't the saviour I thought it would be so water is still what I drink. They on the other hand are on guiness. I remember when guys used to endure that stuff in second year. It was painful to watch. But I guess every guy and gal has their poison.

I'm not those aggressive, go-getter types [and there's nothing wrong with them], so I tend not to bomb-rush chics. Probably because I am cowardly. Yes, 0.5. In some matters at least. I do things gently-gently. Approach with caution, look for any positive signals. If you move towards her and she moves away, that's not a positive signal. That kind of thing. There were mixed signals this time. One moment you're being pulled in, the other you're being pushed away. Literally. But I've seen this before, and prefer to give her room to sought out the conflict going on in her mind. In the meantime, I continue to do my thing. It's not half bad actually, once you're used to it.

A couple of rounds of teasing later, and I got the distinct feeling that something had changed. There was a turning point somewhere in there. I was being pushed away less than before, and the eyes were saying she didn't mind all this so much. Still, I resist the urge to push the advantage. It'd probably be counterproductive anyway. We are sharing drinks by now. My knees aren't what they used to be so I'm also seated half the time, watching her do her thing as I talk to her friend.

Later still and the teasing is in full gear. There's definitely been a turning point. We're still just a guy and a gal who've just met and will go their separate ways after. It's not a big deal. At some point she asks for my number. Another positive sign. She got distracted though with something else and that was kind of forgotten. I got the feeling [fear] she'd changed her mind. So a short time later I offered mine. She started to fiddle with her phone and somehow we ended up looking at a series of photos of her and a few of her friend. Mostly of her. Eventually she keyed in her number into my phone, and off we went. Separate ways. Sent her my "This is my number" text after a short while. Apparently they may not remember you the next day so you need to make contact as soon as practicable. She called back. A good sign.

We got to talking. Not one of my strengths, talking. I do sms and email much better. Used to do blogs. A short while into the conversation and it was all over. I'd not heard such words before. "I'm done with you!". My tongue was huko doing somersaults and attempting to dive down my throat. I think the only thing with greater finality is death. Pretty even actually. Note to self. Never ever under any circumstances, if you are talking with one chic, mention another. Not the most mundane thing you can think about. Nothing. So that's a new record for a relationship. In my world anyway.

As I absorbed the shock, waiting for it to subside, it hit me that this was not an entirely unique occurrence. Some time back, one month, two months. Difficult to keep track of time when everyday is the same and weekends are spent like weekdays. At work. Got a similar message, ending in "bye". But we were meant to meet and I'd stood her up, so that was kind of expected. The common theme is an inability to communicate with women. Not that it was ever that brilliant, but it seems to be non-existent now. So if you see me attempting to ask a chic for her number. If you see signs that I may possibly be thinking about doing that kind of thing, save the chic and me both the pain. Send me a text. 60 mins.

Hi, here's my sister

Once upon a time, in a land far far away... Once upon a time anyway, when we were in high school, there was this phenomenon where chics at functions would always hang out in groups. Groups of at least two. I always found that strange, but now that I've thought about it, if someone was hanging out alone [like yours truly], that would be odd indeed.

Anyway. It was pretty frustrating to guys who were looking to hook some chic, if for no other reason than not to be the laughing stock that evening. For a shy guy [again yours truly comes to mind], approaching and somehow getting to vibe a bunch of chics is a pretty intimidating prospect. Then there was the tendancy for fly chics to hang out with not-so-fly chics. I'm not sure if they did this on purpose or it was one of those stranger than fiction things.

But that phenomemon didn't end 10 years ago apparently. [Some] Chics still carry along protectors/vetters when hanging out. So to get with this chic, you need to appease those around her who you're not particularly interested in. The chic also feel some obligation to her pals and though she may not mind your company, you'll be dismissed outright if the vibe from the rest of the crew is not right. Guys on the other hand, even though they also hang out in groups, tend to be very encouraging if say a woman is to show up and show interest in one of them. They'll go to great lengths to move that along, including offering their car, house and condoms. But that's a story for another day.

One advantage I suppose of chics hanging out with their sisters, is the possibility of other guys benefiting. Say if Kamikaze is hanging out with a chic, who has come along with her "sister", 0.5 gets to benefit. Everyone's happy. It's unfortunate though when it becomes a stumbling block to the guy, or the chic.

Child's play

Raising kids must be anything but. First there's the carrying the baby to term, and all the challenges that come with that. Then the kid is born and for a significant period of time, can't talk. I dread being left alone with babies mainly because when they cry [not if], I'll have no idea what they want. No idea if this cry indicates there's something seriously wrong and you need to call someone. There's the fear of dropping them, the fear that they'll suffocate or something in their sleep; the list is endless.

If you survive that stage, you'll need to develop some superhuman patience to handle them once they can talk and run around. Waa. The thing is to remind yourself that these are kids, doing what kids do. Fight the urge to get worked up when things are tossed all over, instructions aren't followed, and things are generally hectic. I think women are equipped with some stuff to raise kids that guys don't have. Single dads must be superman.

When they start going to school, you have a new set of things to worry about. I remember a workmate saying sometime back when asked stuff they'd like to change/do in their lives. Spend more time with her son she said. If I had kids I probably would never see them. Then again, I was lucky to see my dad once a week when I was growing up, and I turned out fine. Fine enough.

Then they become young adults and the house is a war zone. Cold war, or all out war. It's like a condition for teenagehood. If you're lucky, the kid will turn out OK. If you're lucky. Will be a reasonable member of society. According to the model anyhow. Then they move out and go on to their lives. Those are lonely days when the house is empty and you've retired and stuff. People in other parts of the globe travel the world and stuff. Not sure what guys here do. Again, if you're lucky, the kids will care for you and stuff when you get to that stage when everything in the body starts to break down. That's a tricky situation for parent and child. Awkward.

But guys do it. It's not easy and the guys who decide not to have kids shouldn't be crucified. I can hardly take care of myself so I can't even begin to imagine how I would care for someone else. The model says it's one of the things a jamaa does, but the model is not for everyone.

The model

Some time back, aJamaa spoke about The model. Golly. That was some time back. Anyway. There's a reason I quote the guy a lot, his protestations notwithstanding. The guy is brilliant. Indeed, The model is not for everyone. Actually there can't be a one-size-fits-all model. Like the T-shirts I like to buy that I don't have to try on because they fit majority of the population. Unlike those so called free-size socks. Have you ever bought a pair of socks that the guy at the shop promised would fit any feet, only to get home and try them on, and struggle to get them past the ankles. Be weary when buying socks.

So. Kamikaze can do his thing [although I still think he needs to stop drinking, and smoking, and stick to one sexual partner], 0.5 his, me mine and so on. These rules that people are meant to live by [who came up with them], don't apply to everyone. One does best when [s]he does things their way. Lives by their model.

How secos are shaping the future

There's this seco on lang'ata rd. performs very well. strategically located and owned by the right kenyans.
But word around is that it's gonna contribute to a very important voting group by 2020.
Just like in California or new hampshire. No longer will kenyan politics be for rightwing conservatives only.
These days, the opinion holders call the school "Sodomy Central"

someone could be getting attended

Stumbled on office gossip. it took some time before i gained credibility with the women gossipers. i had thought the office was clean of such,until the question wa posed: Have you suspected anything abt the assistant?
Come to think of it. One time i wanted to see the the boss, the office was locked. she was in there for a while. never suspected anything. In any case they could have been analysing sensitive information like personnel files, or something. so i am told of the way she gets a ride home. still no suspiscion.
I am told of the way the boss demanded her to be employed without going through the drill. and the way they always go on leave together.
I am told of this guy who was heavily reprimanded when he tried reporting her abusing resources. And there was this and that and then he did this to that...
But the gossip was raised a level higher when there was this time she asked "them" why people think she was screwing the boss. wawawawa!
hey! chics are connected. there's now reasonable doubt.

Shit! The boss could be getting a blow job mid morning. No wait. It's just cheap gossip. But who knows. Can't we bug this guy?