Shameless Plug

Well, hello there!

It's true, I'm still alive, and a graduate, no less (MAMA I MADE IT!!!). Not really here to give an update on my life, it's been a busy and eventful year, and homegirl is still staving off existential crises, so there's that.
Enough about me:

1. Hope you're well. 
2. So about the title...like most people, I'm not so huge on getting news updates from other people's posts and consequent biased reporting, so before you open Facebook or Twitter first thing in the morning, here's . . . 🥁 🥁 🥁

theSkimm®️!

It's basically a subscription newsletter that sends you colourfully worded news summaries from all around the world, from royal government screw-ups to 6-year-olds in the UK refusing to give book referrals because reasons (I get you, kid), all in one quick daily skimmable email (that one fell right in my lap). Feel free to use this link to subscribe to their newsletter using your email address!

Well, that's . . . pretty much all I have for you.

. . . This is awkward. . .

. . .Yup.

Byeeeee

    It's been a minute! I dunno, I don't have much to report on, at least nothing I can spin in a way that'll make my life sound blog-worthy. I'm at home chilling after a 10-week summer internship, doing research on a really cool project I won't bore you with. Life's been good, can't complain. I'm just here hoping the whole 'pleas for peace' spiel we've been hearing has hit its target, for purely selfish reasons; homegirl's only here for 9 more days and there's a handful of people to see and Maasai market to visit, thanks. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, we (Kenyans) had elections this past Tuesday - which of course my mother woke me up for, jet-lag be damned; 23 years old and still gotta do what mama says - and we have a...past with fall-outs. I have faith in us, though.

    So...I've been flirting with the idea of closing the chapter of this whole casual blogging thing. Don't get me wrong, it's been fun, or at least it was fun, back when I got fulfilment out of penning my thoughts because it was somewhat of a creative outlet. I don't really feel like it does that for me anymore. For one, let's face it, my posts are very few and far between, and I guess my motivation to pour out my thoughts onto my keyboard kinda faded. Not to worry, I'll keep the blog up, so you can do back and reminisce on the good times (and laugh at the joke that is my life). I might pop in once in a while if the urge to do a post similar to the one with the Friends rundown strikes me. For now...

10 Obnoxious People

Two in one month! Personal best. Anyway, I'm bored and unmotivated. Let's go.

• The Loud/Open-mouth Chewer. How they don't irritate themselves is beyond me. Imagine someone having a handful of soaking wet paper towels. Now imagine them repeatedly squishing said paper towels in their hand. Combine that with the sound of someone smacking their wet hands together. Let that linger in your mind.
• The Dragon Breather. I have a couple of friends who do this. My experiences may be limited, but I have coined this as an American thing. In my first 20 years of life I was under the impression that breathing was a silent endeavor. Apparently not...
• The Public Spitter. Were you raised in a barn!? Listen, lots of people spit, for reasons I am more than happy never to find out. I'm pretty sure that whatever the cause, it can wait til you get to a toilet.
• The Flaker. I'll be the first to admit I have, on occasion, backed out of plans last minute simply because I didn't feel like going any more. I don't mind it being done to me; knowing me, chances are I'll be relieved. But the ones who have a special place in hell reserved are the people who back out of plans, but only inform me when I ask. On the day of. So it's pretty much safe to assume had I not asked, this girl would've been twiddling her thumbs waiting on someone she probably didn't want to hang out with to begin with.

.

• The Starer. Do I have food on my face? Is my hair on fire? A spider doing a weird dance on my head, perhaps? Is my nose distracting (thanks, dad)? What are you looking at?!?
• The Snoop. These are usually friends, so I suppose it would be rude to smack their faces. You do not go through my things. EVER. Even my mother's never done that (that I know of). Then there's the ones who blatantly stare at your screen with you as you unlock it, as if reading my messages is a team effort. 

• The "OCD Sufferer". Lower your pitchforks, I acknowledge OCD as a legitimate disorder. What I find mildly irritating is someone doing something mundane that's likely out of preference than anything else, then claiming they're "very OCD about that". It's such a lazy use of language (something my generation has down to a science). Meticulous, particular, anal-retentive, if you will. All words at your disposal. Sure, you can argue that it's a form of hyperbole, and it's not used literally, except y'all already butchered the word literally so much that the word has lost all meaning, so there's that.
• The British English Nonbeliever. I'm well aware I'm in America. You are well aware I have an accent. This need to "correct" my use of British English is beyond me. I said what I said, you understood what I meant, communication occurred. Let it go.
• The Incurrer (not a word, FYI) of the Grammar Nazi Wrath. I will say it, and I'm not even sorry; then and than, there and their and they're...see, this is where this accent of mine that amuses you so comes in handy, ye-who-are-so-ambiguous-about-pronunciation-you-can't-tell-words-apart. My favourite (I said it, favoUrite!!!) is 'would of'. This, I kid you not, is what people take to mean 'would've'. Some things you just need to reason out with yourself. Back when I was still frequent Facebook browser, I came across a post with something along the lines of 'irregardless' not being a word. A grown man actually left a comment saying, 'soon you'll be saying ain't is not acceptable. English is evolving'. I was tempted to quit the internet that day.

• Lastly, and possibly one of the worst ones, The Aimless Walker. I call them this not because they in fact have no destination in mind, but because with their lack of urgency and complete oblivion of their surroundings, they may as well be. It's a campus, and not a very big one. Corridors are narrow. Every 4 or 5 times a day you'll encounter some deranged soul who was apparently smart enough to get into college, but not enough to know not to stroll down the middle of the bloody hallway. Sometimes, they're not even walking down the middle; they are quite literally meandering down the hallway. At which point I'm thinking, they have to know I'm behind them, and they're just trying to mess with me. Nope. Just on their phone. Never has the urge to shove someone through a wall been so strong. 

I do believe I've earned applause for surviving this long without cussing someone out in Swahili. I'll admit I'm a fairly easy person to annoy, I just won't mention it. This is why you get to hear about it :). Apparently if you get annoyed by sounds people make, you're some kind of creative genius. Sure. Let's go with that. Well, there you have it, some of the things people do that make me want to scream into a pillow.

Great, now thanks to my Miranda-themed gifs, I'm in the mood to watch it. 

What have I done.

Hello There!

    I'm alive folks. I'm 23 now, which is especially weird for me because my mum had my eldest sister at this age. Not happening any time soon, but what a thought. I've been not so chatty for various reasons, mostly being I'm in school and I'm always busy (my idea of procrastinating is doing a different, more tolerable assignment).
    I guess this post is just to touch base with y'all and make sure you don't forget about little old me. My life right now is pretty much centered around my studies (cannot believe I'm graduating next year!!!) It's March, and already there's been a lot happening, most of it being personal stuff I won't bore you with. It's been crazy, but I think things are going in the right direction. The past three months have been a lot of reflecting of where I'm at in my life, what's next after school, that sort of thing. It's also been a time of teaching myself to be vulnerable to and appreciative of God's work in my life, and seek His direction. I try to keep in touch with whether I'm happy, figuring out what I need less of around me, and surrounding myself with people and things that encompass the vibe I want around me. Other than that, nothing groundbreaking has happened so far. It's been a month since I deleted Facebook from my phone. Can't say I miss it terribly.
    This girl is ready for summer!  Excited for new experiences and discovering potential career paths. Yay adulting! (Half of it is looking forward to getting a paycheck and indulging in my fashion addictions. I may be more into the grunge look than I realized. Stalk me on Pinterest). But it's Rochester, and it's currently flipping me off in that regard, so giant snow boots it is. Also looking forward to visiting home, even for a short while. Have you ever just zoned out of a convo because you started daydreaming about nyama choma (a special kind of perfectly charred grilled beef you will only ever experience in Kenya, East Africa. Take my word for it)? Anyway, yeah...chugging along.
    If you're interested in my occasional rambling, join the cool kids and hit follow!

Ta-ta

Did NOT Wake Up Like This

    Hey! This is one of those posts that are (what I hope is) humorous at my expense. So, I was the stereotypical teenage girl with the phase of fighting against being mainstream, and for the longest time I resented the idea of being perceived as a 'girly girl'. A few years down the line, and I realize, that I am, in fact, just that. I am the textbook stereotypical definition of girl. I don't like sports. Not even a little bit. (And girls, it's really ok to not pretend that you do. But then...maybe don't take advice from a single girl). I like makeup. It's fun to see my eyes go from deadened to popping because of one swipe of eyeliner. Actually this post is about my journey to where I am today, makeup-wise. Which is really just 'looks put together...ish'. [Side note: I'm listening to Rihanna's 'Te Amo' and I swear, even though I know the actual lyrics, I thought she said, "Listen, we can dance but you've gotta wash your hands", and I thought, an unusual request but not unreasonable. But I digress.]
    I'm a little fuzzy on the timelines, but the first time I used eye pencil on myself was probably when I was 16 in Form 2 (equivalent of 10th grade). I was likely bored at home and I got into my sister's makeup (because this is the sole purpose of the existence of The Little Sister). My makeup knowledge was sub-zero at that point, so the extent of my expectations was, 'Oh, my eyes look different. Cool'. When really "different" meant "raccoon-like". Yeah, for years I used to draw the liner on my lower lid, and for people with oily faces, it ain't pretty friend. Then there were the eyebrows. Sweet Lord. I'm equal parts wishing I had evidence of the massacre to my face, and immensely glad no such atrocities exist. As one of my classmates ever so helpfully pointed out one time in primary school, back then from afar you couldn't even tell I have eyebrows (this was before the discovery of the wonders of castor oil). So sixteen year old me decided to overcompensate for this shortcoming by drawing on some Angry Birds eyebrows. This may or may not be an exaggeration, I'll let you decide.
    Fast forward to post-high school, and homegirl gets formally introduced to Sleek (and briefly experimented with kohl eyeliner, which felt like I was applying menthol. So many tears. There was a short stint with liquid eyeliner, but the sensation of it pouring into my eyes and damn near blinding me is not one I relish). I got my act together and learnt to draw human eyebrows. Even got a complement from a girl I didn't know all that well, (she thought they were real!) and perfect eyebrow status was achieved. Sadly, Raccoon Eyes phase was still a thing. This proved most inconvenient my first winter here, and with that, the discovery of this delightful 'wind tunnel' on my path to class that made my eyes water every time. Which made me swipe at my eyes. Which smudged everything. Fun times. So anyway, summer of freshman year, and I'm not exactly sure how this happened, but one day I randomly decided to draw my liner on my upper eyelid instead, and my life was inadvertently changed forever. I mean, can I do a decent cateye? ...Bit of a stretch. But it's something. Of course that is very little consolation when YOU WEAR GLASSES AND NO ONE CAN SEE A BLOODY THING YOU DID AND WHY EVEN BOTHER. But then there are those occasional moments when you need to remove your glasses, y'know, to clean them or something, and then you can showcase your hard work. LOL.
    So, here I am. I'm a fan of makeup, but my abilities on the art are (clearly) limited, so my makeup routine is five minutes long and consists of 3-5 items. It's also too much work for someone who touches her face as much as I do. And if Sephora's magic wand thingy can't find me a foundation colour that doesn't look like a mud mask on my face, is there hope? Not left to my own devices, that's for sure. Not to say I don't have 2 makeup bags' worth of stuff and own like 15 makeup brushes, even though I couldn't tell you which brush did what. I should mention that freshman year Amazon came into my life and 15 brushes for $3.50 made a lot of sense. I'm probably more in love with the idea of makeup. But, yeah...that is the story of my evolution. The goal is pretty much to look nice and still look like the same person the morning after. And since nowadays liking one thing is immediately misconstrued to mean being anti-the-other-thing, this is not to say caking your face is a bad thing. It's your face, go to town on it if you want. (I love those 'boys don't like girls with lots of makeup' posts. Can we please have a chat so that we can pinpoint the point at which in my decision to load up my Sephora shopping cart with $25 worth of shimmery and/or matte awesomeness and thus earning even more awesome free samples, a boy got factored into the equation). So, yeah. Do you, and please get yourself at the very least one friend who will tell you when your beloved hot pink is a hot mess on you. There is hope for you yet!

Real Talk

    So, a few days ago I was scrolling down my Facebook homepage, and noticed the #BlackLivesMatter tag and accompanying gifs were everywhere. Again. Friends expressing their heartache, solidarity and pleas for change. Again. You know those notifications you get everyday from Facebook with 'You have memories to look back on today'? Several times I see posts I shared or made a year ago, on shootings, and I'm like, 'Wait, this was last year!?' It's this bizarre vicious cycle we're stuck in, and, to be perfectly honest with you, I don't even know where the latest shooting was (Isn't it just sad, that? Latest.). I used to be on top of these stories, knew every detail, read reports, sat through the videos. I could narrate every incident like I witnessed it myself. That was me, a year ago. Back when this was the most appalling thing I had ever heard of, the shock that such a thing could happen on American soil. Back when I would scrutinize every detail, wondering what I was missing, what had escalated the situation to have that end result. I found none, and began my search for kindred hearts, the collective outrage and out-pour of support, wondering what America would say to that, such blatant injustice and racism in the Land of the Free. And promptly learned that the comment section is the place hope and humanity go to die.

(Semi-rant: 'Murica, you have freedoms and liberties, and you are very proud of them, something you have made abundantly clear. And as you should be. But you are so completely over-the-top obsessed with your freedom of speech, most days it feels like you're afraid you'll run out if you don't use it enough. I'm a (mostly) positive person, and I am incapable of intentionally hurting someone else, whether I know them or not, so maybe I have too high expectations of people. As such, I fail to understand why Americans armed with their freedom of speech act can like children left with crayons in their living room. Yes, the crayons are yours, and yes, you can use them as you see fit. Can you use the crayons to draw on the nice white walls? I mean, sure you have the capacity, but you won't because, as a person entrusted with said crayons, frankly, you should bloody well know better. Case in point: "I'm voting for Trump because he speaks his mind." So, an openly xenophobic and racist president. Score.)

For shits n giggles. Side note: when you're bored, Google 'Most American picture ever'

    These days, I don't read the reports. I don't know the individual stories. And I should. Those people deserve to have their stories heard. But there's a certain despair that creeps in and wholly grips your core; the realization that this is the reality that we live in. That no matter what you say or do, there's a healthy number of people who simply don't give a shit about you. When it becomes so routine, black person gets shot, 'investigations' occur, outrage in whatever city it happened in, a section of social media goes nuts and expresses outrage and flimsy excuses in equal measure, somewhere along the line someone brings up the issue of race (to which, of course, Tomi Lahren will have something to counter. My God, that woman makes my ears bleed), it dies down, and then, for a while, we simply wait. Apathy is the ugliest trait, in my opinion, and I do not wish to ever be so jaded to the point of indifference. But sometimes I wonder if opening myself up to feel, everything, the hurt, the despair, the feelings of injustice, the silent cries of please, hear me and understand, really is better than shielding myself from it all.

    I am both amused and mildly irritated by the phrase 'I don't see colour'. This is high on my list of most ridiculous things ever said. The mere notion that that is supposed to mean 'I'm not racist' or something along those lines is baffling. To whomever it may concern, I don't believe it is particularly difficult to not be racist. I reckon hate requires a good amount of energy. However, 1) being non-racist is not equated to being pro-black (also, and you may wanna repeat after me, pro-black and pro-police are not mutually exclusive!!!), and 2) while being non-racist is dandy, it does not require you to ignore the existence of black people or their culture. I see people bend over backwards trying to describe someone without mentioning their race, as if calling me black is an insult. You acknowledging my race is not an insult, it is merely stating facts. I may have been the only black person in the story you're relaying (it happens). May save you some time.

    I'm a tad low on hope and good vibes to dish out, so just be aware of the possible internal battles people around you may be facing, stuff you maybe never have to think twice about. There's nothing left to say that hasn't already been said. You can't change something you refuse to acknowledge. It's a tough time to be black in America.

- Insert Witty Title -

    So, the internet's been a tad depressing lately, so not touching that with a nine foot pole. That said, this is one of those posts that have no deep meaning to them, or any meaning at all really, other than to entertain myself, and possibly even you. Another snippet of the life of an INFJ, and maybe I've hinted at this before, is the fact that INFJs are sapiosexuals (but, and believe me when I say this, this is not an attractive thing to say on your dating profile. It's up there with 'I'm a really nice loving guy looking for a girl to shower with affection'. Kizuri chajiuza and all that) Why is this remotely relevant, you ask? Well, you might be familiar with the very fine specimen of man that is Brock O'Hurn, a model and IG sensation. He'd stumbled into my feed one day, ages ago, and after hours of staring and fanning, I snapped out of my musings and figured he's probably a conceited prick (his account is made up entirely of selfies and shirtless pics, which I suppose makes sense since he's a model, but logic had taken the back seat that day). I promptly exited the app and decided (to myself) that he was too pretty, and I sorta didn't like him all that much anymore. (Make that the boot. Logic was stuffed down right at the bottom of the boot). Fast forward a few days ago, I was watching a Buzzfeed video where he was being interviewed, and the guy interviewing him (I forget his name, but he refers to himself as 'Single AF') mentioned that something not a lot of people know is that he is a genuinely nice person, and for some reason I believed single AF dude. And just like that, Brock was sexy again.

HOW ARE YOU EVEN REAL!?!

    Am I going somewhere with this? Sorry, no, it was just an observation that amused me. But since we're on the topic, I had a conversation with my good friend very recently about this guy. I said something to her about how if, hypothetically, I was dating him, how much of a struggle that would be, what with deranged fan girls threatening death (mine), ending up in some gossip column and all that other good stuff, and bless her heart (I love her so much for this) she misunderstood and took it to mean I actually had dated Brock. I was touched. I mean, sure, I'm cute and lovable, but...well, you've seen him! But in any case, there's only a 2 year age difference, never say never. Trump's gotten this far, the world is full of possibilities, apparently.
    So, still on that dating app. I even have a system now for weeding out the ones I'd never get along with. Under questions we've both answered, there's an 'Unacceptable answers' category. So basically all the answers I indicated would be a deal breaker if the other person chose them. There is legit a question that asks 'Would you be willing to date a Catholic?' and there's a surprising number that pick 'Hesitant, but willing'. (Oh, you brave creature, are you sure you are ready to sacrifice yourself to undertake this burdensome task?). These are all Christians, mind you. What did Catholics ever do to you? So, yeah, we don't have the greatest track record throughout history, but come on! (We're really not that popular in the States, sigh). Okay, maybe I'll let that one go. Then there are those of the opinion that women have an obligation to shave their legs.



Yes, Loki judges you, and the patriarchy. Whether my legs are gorilla status or soft as a baby seal will be as I decree it! (Or if there's a wedding I'm going to, whichever comes first).
    It gets better. There's this guy who seemed interesting, so I decided to message him (breaking my rules for him already. Dishonour on me and my cow). This was during the period when curiosity got the better of me, and I had a bit of money in the bank, so I got myself a subscription in order to be able to view my 'Who Liked You' list. This also enables me to see when someone has read my message, which he did, then didn't reply for a few days, and when he did, his message took me back to 2014, when the letters from the universities I applied to were coming in and I was reading Mt Holyoke's reply. This guy quite literally wait-listed me. I kid you not. He was from another state, location unknown to me, I'm bad at geography, so he mentioned that he'd like to date people nearer to him. Made total sense. If only he ended there. No sir. He went on to say that he'll be sure to keep my name around in case the situation changes and contact me, and he "wishes me the best of luck." Brilliant.
    I do wish there was a point to this. I just felt like internet doodling. And calm myself from excitement about going home soon. Some have drug dealers on speed dial, Kenyans have their 50 bob (~50 ¢) pirated DVD guys. Can't wait to be home.