Saddling The Horse

    I feel like, if I write it, I have to commit to it. So, old news, weight loss journey and all that jazz continues still. It doesn't really ever end. Definitely not for people like me. I'm one of those unfortunate souls who break their backs losing weight, but so much as smell a slice of bread and gain it all back. Ain't life grand.
    So, this is somewhat part 2 of the journey, because, honestly, I haven't worked out all that much post-boot camp (can't believe that was a year ago!), and I have 2 kg to prove it. Ugh. But, twas not all in vain. Since part 1 of my journey, I am definitely more conscious about what I put on my plate. I have been exposed to a world where no thigh gap be damned, girls break out them short shorts and crop tops (there are some courageous souls out there, people!) and while my very African upbringing is embedded deep within me, I'd like the option should I succumb to a particularly fabulous pair of shorts.
    I won't lie, exercise is not exactly up there with my list of favorite things to do. If I'm running, let it be clear to everyone that there is imminent danger and it is coming fast. There's a stack of things against me, one of them being my introvert tendencies, coupled with my love of books = sweet treats cozied up in bed getting lost in some fantasyland. At least, this had been me for the longest time, til a little channel called TLC came along and terrified me to my very soul. How, you ask? Where to begin... 'My 600-lb life', 'Weighing up the enemy', 'My weight is killing me'... you get the gist. Now, I am an extremely far cry from 600 pounds (that's ~272 kg FYI), but it's been enough to instill the fear of God in me.
    It's a hard concept to grasp if it hasn't been a personal experience, but there's a period in a big girl's life when she goes from looking at herself in the mirror and mercilessly picking herself apart, to feeling sorry for herself because she's so unhappy, to simply being sick and tired of feeling sorry for herself, and having a pile of clothes in her closet that will be revisited 'when she's smaller'. That, friends, is the point of no return. No thought is more terrifying than the possibility of reverting back to that girl, after mastering up the courage to drag herself from there.
    So, as always, bitch I shall about every burpee, every sit-up, every bloody lunge I do begrudgingly, and I'll day dream about that delicious chocolate chip chocolate cake with chocolate fudge and be content with the idea of it (and of course get me some of that once in a while. I'm no masochist) but I'll suck it up and do it...I owe it to that girl.

Fifty Shades of...Well...

    I'm really glad I didn't watch Fifty Shades of Grey as soon as it hit the big screen, because then I got the chance to hear about other people's disappointment and so lower my own expectations for when I did actually watch it, i.e. earlier today. It's been said to death, the movie is never as good as the book. As a former dedicated fangirl of the trilogy, this just didn't do it for me. I expected more intensity, more emotion, just...more. To be fair, I am a tad biased because I was never really that thrilled with the choice of cast. Dakota Johnson does a pretty good Ana, but Jamie...meh. I am probably gonna sound a little too critical, but...he smiled too much. Maybe it's just me, but when I read the book, the picture of Christian Grey in my head was this tall (sorry Jamie), dark, brooding, intense, devilishly handsome man who could intimidate you with one look. Him...not so much. He has a nice voice though!
    Some parts of the movie reminded me of Agnes  in Despicable Me 2, practicing her recital of her poem for mother's day in front of Gru, especially during the interview at their first meeting. I do understand though that it must be quite challenging to fit an almost 500 page novel into 2 hours of acting, more so one with so much detail. No one is more thankful than I am that they spared us the gory details of the tampon bit. Gross. I must say, the soundtrack is pretty cool.
    I'm not sure that I'd want to watch the sequels to that, mostly because I'm pretty sure the imagery in my head from reading the books would still be better. I am looking forward to reading Grey. It should be a refreshing change of pace from all the 'oh my' of Ana's incessant monologue. I came across a post on Tumblr that had me in stitches:

"This is Anastasia Steele every five seconds:"

       

So yeah...fingers crossed.
    I last read FSOG about 2 years ago, so it was kinda nice to relive it. I was also reminded about my change of heart concerning my love of the book, all things considered, and exactly why Ana was bat-shit crazy to not have ran away screaming from the word go, or at least dump his ass solely on principle of his enormous ego. "Rectify the situation." Pfft!
    Suffice to say I clearly lack the makings of an Ana, but me thinks next semester would be a good time as any to make buddies with journalism majors, yes?

Breathe In. Let It Out

    I think, probably, every parent's nightmare is the moment their child begins to have a mind of their own and forming their own opinion. Much as it's awesome to essentially 'be your own person' (delusions of teenage years), there are individuals like myself who don't always know what to do with that kind of freedom. I'm a self-proclaimed opinionated person (albeit not out loud, ironically), and ideally I'd like to be that 'IDGAF what you think' person, Big Sean in the background and everything, but, much to my ire, I do. Just a smidgen. Sometimes. Even when I want to post or share something on social media, a small niggling part of me is mentally doing a rundown of my list of followers, wondering if any of them might get offended, or might think differently of me.
    It's not a totally insane notion though. God knows the world today isn't all that great with greeting opposing thoughts with arms wide open. The immediate reaction is usually along the lines of "This is why you're wrong." and you can almost see them lifting their leg ever so gracefully as they mount their high horse. Personally, the worst thing that ever happened to the human race was the ability of anonymity in the internet. This is basically the domain of the bigots, racists, homophobes, and general assholes of the world. Lucky us.
    One of my favorite things about having this blog is that it's mine. Anyone who types in my URL does so to read about what I think about something, take it or leave it. That this is my forum. (Once upon a time I had a journal, then laptops happened. Big fan of the written word, but cataloging thoughts is exhausting!) Cathartic, if you will. I highly recommend it, actually. Writing, I mean. I read a quote once:

"You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better." -Anne Lamott

    So, moral of the story, don't be a pain in the behind then clutch at your pearls in horror when someone finally decides to call you out on your bull. On the other hand, be careful not to choke yourself in your valiant effort to hold your tongue. Sometimes things need to be said.  Stand up for someone who isn't 'like' you. Do what is right, not what is easy. Speak your truth.

   

Mid-Year Post...Or Something

    So...back in the 254 for summer vaycay (I will never say that again, I promise). Just enjoying not being ridden hard (hah hah) by assignments and all that good stuff, and embracing my new 'the cool fun aunt' role. It's all good. Not a fan of the showers though. Rain, that is. But, could be worse. BELIEVE me.
    I don't know about you, but I always have these blah-life crisis/crises where I get these random urges to do something spontaneous and/or dramatically different. Case in point, my big chop and hair dye last year, and my four sessions of piercings. Okay, so maybe that's not exactly up there with getting tatted up or buying a sports car (as if), but they usually do the trick. The mood struck again about a month ago (I kinda wish it was about a week agooo...teehee...I'll stop now), and Pinterest, the little temptress, put the idea of a fifth piercing in my head, which I got very recently. One word: OUCH. My cartilage is not very forgiving, and I kinda have to sleep positioned like a corpse now, but I'll deal.
    I'd like to think my subconscious is deeper than that, but not really in this case because let's face it, this is the crazy poking its ugly head, but no permanent damage so...meh. I'm known (to myself) for taking the phrase 'train of thought' and straight up Usain Bolt running with it. *clears throat* *prepares self for profoundness* I started thinking about the pursuit for self-growth (I don't know how I leaped to that either). First off, it's a testament to my age, or maturity if you will, me thinks, for thinking about my future in a way I've never had to, because to me that's always entailed career-family-30-year-old related stuff, and it's finally hitting home that the 'future' is fast approaching (2020 is 5 years away! Mind=blown) and I actually need to make decisions, important ones at that, concerning said future. Which freaks me out a tad since, from my new year's post about switching career paths, I'm more or less going down a much uncharted one. I've always been one of those people who function by making lists and schedules and having thought-out plans (textbook INFJ) so the pressure is on to formulate a clear concise plan post-undergrad. I'm in a fairly new and considerably wide major that has opened a world of possibilities, and it's kind of overwhelming. Y'know, the more the choices the harder the decision and all that.
    At the same time there's this whole world of adulthood. There is very much a kid in me, and it's a bit daunting that the government trusts me to vote, drink, drive, own property and a credit card, all the while acting sane enough to keep my behind out of prison. Is anyone ever really ready for it? God knows I occasionally meet people who immensely restore my faith in my ability to handle my shit. Can't run away from it, so might as well embrace it, and hey, maybe even have some fun while I'm at it. Carpe diem, always.
(Speaking of, the promised FSOG movie review is coming up soon).

Now that I've touched base, laters!

I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N

    People, I survived NEGATIVE 20 degrees Celsius and lived to tell the tale! To my fellow Kenyans, you have officially lost your right to complain about the cold, ever again. Ever. The next post was supposed to be about the Fifty Shades of Grey movie, but seeing as I haven't watched it yet, that's still in the works.

    I feel like I'm about to open a can of worms, but then not really, depending on who you ask. In all my 21 years I've been a Catholic, and in 20 of those years I've lived in a country with citizens who all identify with either Christianity, Islam or some form of religion. Fast forward to 2014, I'm transplanted to a country that is all about individualism and their rights and all that good stuff. Prior to coming here, I'd been forewarned about culture shock, and I'd been actively waiting for it to happen. I've grown up watching a lot of American shows, and surprisingly the reality wasn't all that different so for the most part what they did didn't phase me. Four months in, I was convinced that I'd dodged that bullet, but in the recent past I realized that I am living it, right now.

    Like I said, I grew up in a mostly religious community. Prayers and Bible verses being read in schools and national functions, plenty of churches everywhere and generally people being open about their religion because for the most part it was a common factor among them. That being said, I've always been, I guess somewhat secure in my faith, in that spiritually I was in my comfort zone. I was firm in my beliefs in the sense that I didn't question them, but I had never been in a position whereby someone else questioned them. As a Christian I never really took time to think of the whys, always being content with Christianity simply being my reality. But in an environment where I relatively often come across a nonbeliever, I've had to do some soul searching. 

    These past few months have been somewhat of a struggle for me, acclimatizing to a place where a good number of people don't relate to my beliefs, and who, for them, science holds more weight. I struggled with the ability to proudly identify with Catholicism, having an underlying fear of being treated differently, because as a Christian, it's not uncommon that I'll be assumed to be pre-conditioned to be a gay bashing, narrow-minded prude, and all the other typical labels Christians are subject to. It's definitely a struggle hearing and reading demeaning things people have to say about my faith, taking jabs, and I get that the extremist Christians are the ones people associate the Christian faith with, and the bad experiences said people have had with these Christians tarnish their view on Christianity and give the rest of us a bad name (We're pretty decent, me thinks).

    This has been my contemplation for Holy Week. When I hear or read about the bad things Christians have said and done, and the backlash that follows, and I feel like I'm reaching the point of tearing my hair out in frustration, I remember the song 'And They'll Know We Are Christians By Our Love'. I realize I can only do so much, but if I live my life in a way that my words and actions portray me as the kind of Christian I'd like a nonbeliever to know, and give them the kind of experience I'd want them to associate Christianity with, that's something. So the plan is, smother them with love and affection. "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ who lives in me." (Galatians 2:20)

    To answer the question: why am I a Christian? Because it makes sense to me. Because it feels right. Because I believe it and I live it. Because I belong to Christ.

Africanese 101

    Hope the new year's being good to you. So, I've been in the US for about 5 months now... I think this happens to everyone when they're somewhere foreign to them, that they'll find some oddities in the behaviour of the people they're around (and it's so annoying that the word 'behaviour' is underlined). Anyway,besides the point. So, naturally, I am a bit of a spectacle to some of the Americans I meet. I've noticed most of them are people with little to no filter, and the questions they ask and comments they make, which are seemingly harmless, have the potential of grating nerves when asked and/or said frequently enough.
    First off, I'm pretty sure when you ask someone where they're from and they answer Europe (but who does that, surely?), naturally your follow-up question would be "Where in Europe?". Interestingly (and by that I mean not at all), when I say I'm from Kenya, the only thing that sticks is that I'm African, and as such any future follow-up questions will be focused on how things are done or the state of affairs in Africa. I tend to think these people are of 'the country of Africa' mentality variety. It's irritating, it really is.
    Here's another thing I could live without hearing: "I'm from Kenya." "Oh, you're from Africa? I've always wanted to go there." "Where in Africa?" "I dunno, I've just always wanted to go there." This is an actual conversation I had. Bypassing the fact that my mentioning where exactly I'm from had no bearing whatsoever, it begs the question, will you jump on a plane and land somewhere off the coast of northern Africa and simply wander? There are 53, yes, FIFTY THREE countries in the continent of Africa; we have more countries than there are American states. Pick one already.

Area: 30.22 million sq km (America covers 9.857 million) 

    Sometimes I wish I could take some of the people I know on a trip to Kenya so that they see the non-existence of the rock they think I've been living under. Scenario: in the spirit of throwbacks, I was feeling a little Linkin Park and was playing Encore. Someone asks the question (brace yourselves): "You guys know Jay Z in Kenya?" WHAT?! Really? I still get looks of surprise when I sing along to a popular song or sing some old ones. We know them. We know them all. We listen to songs as they come out. All. Of. Them. This is up there with "I don't know how you do it in Africa, but here we...". In no scenario is that leading statement necessary. If it's not gonna kill anyone, just do it.
    Now, this may be hard to believe, but we don't all live in a perpetual oven. It rains. It gets cold. It even snows in some parts of Africa (gasp). You know how California and Alaska don't have the same weather? That makes sense to you, right? Then why on earth would you think the whole of Africa has blistering heat 24/7/365? The whole of Kenya doesn't have the same climate. Africa has deserts, rain-forests, highlands, and all the other good stuff you can find out about. How, you ask? Well, there's this amazing creation I like to call G o o g l e.
    My point, and I do have one: I don't expect an American to know all there is to know about Africa, heck, even I don't know it all, but there's a distinct difference between a lack of knowledge and ignorance, especially when it seems like someone doesn't mind sounding ignorant because it's Africa. I highly doubt that any African would mind answering questions about their home (who doesn't like talking about their culture?), but, it would be nice if an outsider bothered to learn a thing or two about basic trivia. Impressive even. Believe me, you'd be such a novelty, and a welcome one at that.
    I recommend watching African American by Trevor Noah, a South African comedian, available on Netflix. As usual, he puts a...fascinating spin on things.
    Enough about that. Plans for Valentine's weekend: go to the theaters and watch Fifty Shades of Grey as I judge every second of it, alongside my fellow single girlfriends. Keep an eye out for a follow-up post. This should be interesting...

Laters

End of Year Shebang

    I'm so horribly inconsistent, I know. I'd apologize, but that would be implying that I'll change :). So, 2015, huh? I'm kind of sad that 2014 is over, but I can honestly say I've gotten all I could get from a single year, and then some. I'm really thankful to God for the peaks this year has brought for my family and in my personal life. Since I'm all deep and stuff, the days leading up a new year always has me reflecting on how the past 365 days have impacted me, highlights, low points, the works. So...
    In 2014 I learnt that wishing for something with all your might for something won't make it happen. I had issues with my weight and actually got off my ass and did something about it, and it felt bloody amazing. It was one of the most gratifying things I had done for myself in a while, and I was proud of myself for doing it for me.
    In 2014 it was reaffirmed to me that every single thing happens for a reason. God makes no mistakes. All that you go through has a purpose to serve in your life. It may not always be clear why, but I've learnt to trust in His perfect will to be done and everything will fall into place. It's a long story, but a disastrous Chemistry finals practical in high school set the ball rolling for me to be studying in one of the best research universities in the US. I kid you not.
    In 2014 I learnt that sources of indescribable joy comes in small packages. I am yet to meet the new addition to our family, but I love him so so much already, and even a thousand miles away, I can tell that that tiny human being has shone a bright light in a household where shadows had been cast.
    In 2014 I learnt that I'm a pretty perfect version of myself. When I was starting to figure out who I am, I realized that I'm very introverted, I'm perfectly fine with spending hours on my own, I'm uncomfortable in large social gatherings, I detest small talk, I'm empathetic to just about everything, I'm fairly good at reading people, I'm extremely private (still can't believe how much I share on this blog) and I'm emotional. I used to think that no one naturally has that much of an affinity for solitude. Then I discovered I'm an INFJ, a very rare personality type, making up less than 1% of the world's population. This is how I'm built, and I'm unapologetically me.
    In 2014 I learnt that nothing is set in stone. For the longest time ever I've been telling anyone who'd listen that it is my life-long dream of becoming a doctor. Medicine was it for me; ask me what my second choice would be, I would look at you with utmost confidence and declare,"There are no other choices." In high school, I'd had a passing thought that if it wasn't for my undying adoration for medicine, engineering would be an option, maybe (I was one of those kids who loved physics). I never really gave it much thought, though. Welp folks, I got to college and fell in love. With biomedical engineering.

    In 2014 I learnt that American slang is stupid, Americans speak shockingly bad English for people whose only language is English, and they curse unnecessarily frequently. I am in a land where "I can't even" is a complete sentence, anything difficult is "disgusting", the word "like" is, like, used, like, instead of, like, pauses, like, in, like, sentences, people constantly "literally die" and make you wish you were dead, and if you don't like something you're "not into that life" (face-palming for days). Also, the crazies dwell in Walmart.

    In 2014 I learnt that a large number of people sadly think that it's wrong to hold an opinion different from theirs, to be different from them, and are incapable of viewing things from someone else's perspective, and I'm so thankful I'm more open-minded than that, and because of that I've met really great people who aren't Catholic, straight, dark-skinned, African. Don't hate what you don't understand. There's far too much to learn.

     On January 1st I declared 2014 to be my year, and it turned out better than my wildest dreams. To 2015 I say, surprise me (but please be nice); I'm ready.

    "Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering, "It will be happier.""

                -Alfred Tennyson 

   Wishing you an amazing New Year.