It’s Valentine’s

And with the obviousness set forth, I say I’m actually excited for the season. I’m thinking of doing it the way I did way back in 2010, and there’ll even be cake and sweets. It will be a sweet one, I hope.

I don’t do Valentine’s in a big, blatant manner though I wish I did. I wish I was the type to buy manila paper, and art craft equipment. To search online for do it yourself videos, and sit down to make cards, and banners; decorations to put up in my space; and give to people I know for the season.

I wish I was the type to have a device in which I can set up playlists for every day leading up to the end of the season, which is the end of February for me. Have themes like current hits with Beyonce, and Ellie Goulding, and Paramore. Old school hits with Stevie Wonder, and Charlie Pride, Aretha Franklin, and Chaka Khan. Erotic with The Weeknd, Tinashe, and Michael Jackson, and Nicki Minaj, Nickelback, too. Cuteness with Ed Sheeran, and Kelly Clarkson. Sexy with Aaliyah, Toni Braxton, Xcape, and Ciara. Enough to keep a smile, and the mood alive for weeks.

I’d like to be the kind to cook spicy, savoury finger foods; and wear lace, and satin, silk, and velvet.

I am not. I do t-shirts and slacks, slippers, and tea in the evening. It isn’t inspiring, but it doesn’t deter me. I’ve been making playlists featuring Sam Smith, Beyonce, Aaliyah, Ciara, Alicia Keys, Michael Jackson (cause the man had sexy tracks like give in to me, whoo!). I have a bunch of romantic movies to watch like Something New, Beyond the Lights, Jason’s Lyric, Rent, and Twilight. And I’ll make my favourite treats, read romantic novels like Jude Deveraux’s Velvet series, and maybe an erotica if I can find a good one. In between all this, I’ll be writing.

Valentine’s should be good, in the least. So far, it has had good moments.

Happy Valentine’s.


sKenyans, shame on you. Dishonour on you, your family, your children’s children, and your cow

Ah, some Kenyans (sKenyans) on twitter, and facebook; aren’t you lot just a terrible example of humanity? Not a reason have you to be terrible, but there you go sharing what has been unsolicited, and is harmful. I don’t know why these 4chan-esque posters are allowed online, but I have this deep desire to see them no longer. And for the most part, I have managed to avoid them; but with the ability for people to have multiple accounts at a time, and that thing called manual reposting, it’s not an entire success. Hence how I found myself reading tweets by unnecessary bigots regarding a kiss.

This kiss is heterosexual, and boring which in itself isn’t worth much furore if any attention. However, because sKenyans on twitter, and facebook apparently have to fill some quota on being harmful negatives, they pervade the kenya-twitter-sphere with their misogynistic slut labelling of the woman involved in the kiss.

If their problem was the man involved, I’d probably be less moved to comment on it. It’s not, however. It’s not that the man is a liar, a sexist, misogynistic, sycophant government official, who spends more time making the government look irrational than communicating effectively enough to manipulate people into seeing the government in a positive, or non-negative light. Because there’s no one working for a government’s communication department that isn’t manipulating people with their messages. Their problem is that the woman was pictured with a man who isn’t the man she was pictured with prior. Their problem is that she’s a female. And that’s misogynistic.

sKenyans are a shame; repugnant excuses of humanity. Exaggerating a kiss to sexual acts, and then slandering a woman as being irresponsible with her sexual life is revolting, and undeserving of any consideration that doesn’t lead to rebuking of their behaviour. Equating a promiscuous lifestyle to deserving of rape in the case of a woman is violent. Expecting them to learn different, to be good is a pipe dream. There’s more chance public money stashed in Switzerland will be returned with all the interest gained than the likes of @masaku will stop being hateful, spiteful persons committing violence against women for the sole reason that they are not him.

trigger warning, depression

It’s a day in which waking up is an inevitability, but unwanted. I can’t sleep for more than two hours this week, and getting to sleep is a struggle, although I am sleepy all the time. I want to hate it, but the effort is too great. So, I’m in this limbo where nothing is happening, and I’m whining because there are options I should take, but I won’t because I’m too tired, or apathetic, or watching a series and unwilling to turn it off for a few minutes to deal with the insomnia.

It’s a day in which the ground is firm, the sun is hot, the air is dry, and my hair is glossy because the sunshine warms the lotion in my hair, and makes it work the way putting my hair under a drier for a few minutes would if I tried to go near a hair dryer. My skin is dry, my nose bleeds, and my eyes water a lot because of the air. So, when I feel like crying, I have an excuse.

The world is going on with their plans around me. There’s a pregnancy, a loan, a renovation. People are getting jobs, and promotions. Income. People are doing things they want, or as close to it as they can get.

My world remains the same: try to sleep, try not to wake up and fail. Write the story, and keep writing no matter how much I hate it. Listen to music that doesn’t make me cry, or curl up in myself. Listen, and watch shows that will keep my mind from thinking that it’s a good time to google what types of drugs I can overdose on that won’t destroy my organs. I figure contaminated blood is a loss worth the rest of my organs being viable for donation. Or run away from home. Leave and say nothing to anyone. And never return.

It’s been a day; the kind that I will put down as one I found at its end with me still in existence.