Skip to main content

It Ain't Fun!

Fun || Paramore
Funny how they call it the pearl of Africa when there are no street lights. Aren't pearls supposed to be brilliant? Don’t mind me, I am not in the best mood at the moment. I have to get down to writing some reports for work… and I am actually glad for the chance to put all my concentration into that and not have to think about anything else. I’ll probably be able to push that into the better part of the weekend. And when that is done I can pour my heart and soul into cooking and making small meals for next week. I can also clean compulsively. Unfortunately, I braided my hair on Wednesday so I can’t turn the next idle day into wash day. What I am trying to put across is how mundane my life can be.

Strangely enough, 12 hours ago my life seemed pretty great and interesting and I couldn't wait for the weekend to begin. I had almost forgotten how that one person has the power to turn my most exciting day into another grey one using a simple statement, “Sorry, hun. I can’t make it.” But then again, the same person can turn the worst of days into a bearable one with a simple text. Ironic.
I read an article recently about how music lyrics are getting dumber with time. Apparently, as we stand, most music is at the IQ level of a second grader. I call this reverse evolution. We got to the smartest, most refined level as a species and now we are regressing. Didn't that happen to the Greeks too? Being an Indie fan, maybe my music passes for eighth grade IQ level, at least. It is depressing but not all hope is lost. For instance, I recently discovered Hopsin and ‘Ill Mind of Hopsin 5’ has become like a daily anthem. I think everyone should look it up and will probably be all the better for it.

I have come to the conclusion that I feel this disenchanted because this is like when the initial excitement of camping wears off and you now want to go back home to electricity, internet and sleeping indoors. I mean, I sleep indoors in Kampala too but I miss Nairobi now. I would almost trade the traffic to be able to drop into Ebrahims for almost anything I could need; to run into my best friend randomly on the streets and drop all other plans for the day; to catch up with my sister about her week; to sleep in my bed at home and to just have everyone I love close by. The fun of living in the real world is wearing off. No, Paramore… it ain't fun!

Hopefully (and seriously though!) this too shall come to pass and I’ll feel more like myself soon.

In other news, that feeling when you get your first pay-check before you have to pay the bills! Coincidentally, Bills by Lunchmoney Lewis is currently playing. I wonder what IQ level the lyrics are…
Labels:

Comments

  1. Unknown27 June 2016 at 05:03

    i love your train of thought and choice of words...it's like swirling a glass of wine into a busy day. Be tagging me.

    Nice piece Ivy

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Girl Code... Not Neccesarily in that Order.

"The only rule is don't be boring and dress cute wherever you go. Life is too short to blend in." Society can be such a drag. What, with all the unwritten, unsaid rules and codes. Guys have an elaborate ‘Bro Code’. In fact there’s a whole website . You will be surprised that Rule no. 1 of it is not the (in)famous ‘Bros before whores’. Girls have their own code too, though it’s not set in stone and varies among different groups of girls. The Girl code is especially tricky to girls like me who aren’t exactly programmed like other girls. So, I have a list of essential rules in the Girl Code. Some come with disclaimers and modifications. Some are universal while others are just stuff that my friends and I have come up with along the way. 1.        Should a Girl be critically injured, her Side-Girls are to never make jokes about it, unless the hurt Girl does first. I love my girlfriends…very much, but if said critical injury has risen as a result of a fall (wh
3 comments
Read more

Of Doing Milk and Staying Young

Boredom inspires/ drives me to do the unthinkable... like texting him to say how I couldn’t stand pretending that I didn’t like him...or drinking a glass of milk. I do not DO milk. And no, I am not lactose intolerant. As Max in ‘2 Broke Girls’ aptly points out, “Poor people don’t just run out to buy anti-biotics. You man up, grow a pair, and stare germs in the face...booyah!” I may not be poor but I am definitely not rich. People in my economic bracket don’t get fancy diseases like eczema. We get rashes, and if you want to get all fancy then you will have to do with ‘allergies’. So, no, I am not lactose intolerant. Where I come from it’s just a plain, simple ‘I don’t drink milk.’ But here I am, with a now half empty glass of milk. (I hope you can detect the pessimism there or else my pun will have gone to waste) I suppose the ‘Do Milk, Stay Young’ campaign hasn’t gone to waste. All that sexual objectification of infants wasn’t in vain. “Sexual objectification?” you ask. Yes,
4 comments
Read more

Fighting for my right to be wrong.

I feel as if our relationship has been progressing at an admirable rate... progressing enough for me not to just assume that someone somewhere is reading this, but to hope that this is so. Today has been a Monday, true to form. Murphy s law through and through. Anything that  could go wrong DID go wrong...but I don't want to bore you with the gory details. I do need to mention, though, that I was diagnosed with alarmingly high levels of typhoid fever. To be frank, I didn't feel THAT ill. I was simply mildly sick with a stomach ache and a head ache but the pharmacist wouldn't give me any meds until he had run some tests.Even after the diagnosis I still felt pretty amazing considering the shocked expression on the lab tech's face as he tries to make me understand how 'grave' my situation was. Dad wasn't as flippant about it as I was (His own face-to-face encounter with typhoid had confined him to bed for a week and he couldn't believe that my body was
1 comment
Read more