I’m going through changes. Have been for a while. I suppose it’s something to do with the pandemic. It’s a weird thing, isn’t it? Living through a pandemic. I suppose we shouldn’t be (have been) surprised. It’s nature’s way of ensuring we don’t drive ourselves to extinction right? Because if the stats are anything to go by, we are doing a terrific job of that. What with the climate change and global warming and all. Atleast that’s how I look at it.

Anyway, I certainly did not wait two weeks (or more?) to write about the pandemic and Nature’s reactions. I was saying I’m going through Changes. Not Justin Bieber’s album; I have already been through that a number of times. And one thing is for sure. It is no Purpose. Purpose was/is a gem. Damn that’s one good album.

I feel quite bad that I haven’t written for quite some weeks. I’d promised myself to do better; be more consistent. But I have had a rough couple of weeks. Nothing major. Just adulting as we know it. Do we ever get used to living like this? Does it get better? Or do we just have to adjust and find ways of managing it? I don’t quite know. I’m guessing it is a figure out as you go kind of thing.

A couple of days ago I had a conversation with myself in my journal and it wasn’t pretty. I suppose it is a bad sign when you start to self therapise – if there is such a word – but hey, what’s going to happen? Give myself a wrong diagnosis? As always my Brain is always at loggerheads with my heart. I think that’s the way they are wired to be. Any other way is abnormal?

I wrote this post late in the middle of the night when I woke up from a nightmare. Haven’t been sleeping quite well. And I haven’t the slightest idea what that is about. Anyway, if you haven’t watched Watchmen please do yourself a favour and watch that gem.

Bye-bye. (Yeah. This definitely needs working on)

17th July 2019

Coming up with titles for my work is the most difficult part about writing for me. Probably because I rarely have something particular to write about and I just let my mind take me wherever. I’m using today’s date as a working title and hopefully by the end of the post, I will have come up with a more creative, more catchy, more thought provoking title. Hopefully. Last week I started writing again after a long time. Over a year. With a little push from my friends and the urge to write was getting stronger by the day. Kinda like the fetus writer in me was finally fully developed and pushing to be birthed.

I still don’t know what I’m writing about. Just like I didn’t know what I was writing about last week. I don’t know for how long this will go on. All I know is I have committed myself (and to a couple of other people) to writing (and hopefully publishing) something every week. Maybe with time I’ll be more intentional and my thought process more organised to point out a particular something to write about other than just rambling. Because not everyday rambling and rambling week in week out. Besides getting old, it’s really not a good look on me. And I’m somewhat averse to things that don’t look good on me. I digress.

I thought about writing about my week. Things that caught my attention during the week. It was a fleeting thought but now that I think back on it, maybe it’s not such a bad idea. I’ll have to keep note of them though during the week because for some reason my memory sucks. I think someone dropped me on my head when I was little. Or maybe I was a little attention seeking spoilt brat and someone got annoyed with me one day and they hit me hard on the head. Well, atleast hard enough to cause damage to the part of my brain responsible for memory and stuff.

Anyhoo, (I don’t know what that means but it’s provocative and I like it), earlier this week, around Tuesday I think, I tweeted something about depression and someone who saw that tweet came to my WhatsApp and said “those are white people diseases nawe“. Or something along those lines. Friends, the rage I felt at this grown ass man calling depression, a wide spread mental health issue a white people disease is inexplicable. Even just thinking back on lodges a ki mango in my throat. But thank goodness I mastered the art of ignoring things like that and not letting them ruin my day.

But all that got me thinking about generational differences. I remembered a George Orwell quote “Each generation imagines itself more intelligent than the one that went before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it.” I think about this quote quite often whenever I’m faced with a difference in opinion with someone from a different generation. Especially on issues that clearly indicate a generational gap. Which is what happened with the gentleman on Tuesday. He is a couple of generations older and people from that age group tend to not give mental health as much attention as we do. Even though they should. But they don’t. It is just what it is. Understanding that helped me to drop the subject with him faster than a hot potato other than frustrating myself trying to explain to a 40+ year old about mental health. Probably not the best approach but hey, I choose peace all the time.

I can’t for the life of me remember what happened the rest of the week (bad memory, like I said). I wonder how it was that I was so good in school even without really putting in that much of an effort. It’s really confusing. Is my memory good only in a classroom? Anyway, the rest of the week passed kind of in a blur. Ever since lockdown and given the fact that I’m not back to work yet, my days just seem to morph into one another and I barely know which is which. Maybe that’s why my brain is dead. Or dying. Maybe I wasn’t dropped on my head as a child after all. Something to think about.

This last thought just occured to me. At the end of each post I’ll be letting you know what I am reading and watching. So this week I’m reading Gone Tomorrow ( a Jack Reacher book) by Lee Child and Little Fires Everywhere. I finished watching the Politician last night and I am going to start on Warrior Nun for next week. Ciao.

Bad Hair day.

I’m always playing it safe when it comes to my hair. I fear risking a hairstyle that looked great on someone because it could go terribly wrong and not look as good on me. So as today was salon day, I opted for braids. Braids are safe. Braids cannot go wrong. And braids always look good. Right? Right? Well I couldn’t be more wrong. Technically braids are the safest go to hairstyle but well, I guess someone in hair heaven who decides who looks good in what hairstyle and who looks nightmarish in another had it in for me. And they decided this was the day to let everyone know that braids aren’t the safest hairstyle and they can actually go terribly wrong. I’m probably just a victim of circumstance. I don’t know. All I know is my decision to do braids today has made it to my top 5 terrible decision of 2019. Yeah, I keep a list.

It’s day one and I already hate my hair. How am I to survive two more months of this? Yeah. Two months. My broke ass can’t afford to change hair every month. Or every two weeks. But if there’s anything to learn from this it’s that don’t be afraid to experiment with your hair. Go crazy. Go all out. Colour your hair. Cut it all off. Wear wigs. And weaves and don’t forget braids can go wrong too. If the hair angel decides it’s not your day to rock a hairstyle there’s nothing you or the best hairstylist in the world can do about it. Peace and love.


For so long I have been huddled up in this cacoon of self doubt and second guessing myself about everything I do. I honestly do not know where it stemmed from; or I probably do but don’t care to admit it even to myself. Because it’s a long winding path to an abyss I’d rather not revisit even in my thoughts. As an adolescent, I was shy and standing before the whole school; teachers, students and sometimes parents on School’s Day or MDD was one of my greatest fears. But I conquered that fear and sang before the whole school (often as part of a duet) and it was such an exhilarating experience. Boy could I sing. From as far back as I can recall I used to have one of the best essays (most times the very best) in English paper one which was about composition writing. My teacher of English (as he taught me to say) was my greatest encouragement and I even went ahead to chair the committee that published the annual school magazine. Now I look back at all that and I feel like such a huge loser. Because I seemingly threw all that away. Why?

Well I’ll tell you why. After high school, I got admitted to uni. I soon learned that this was a different environment altogether. It was nothing like I was used to. I don’t really know how or why it happened but some where during that transition I totally lost myself. And from that time onwards it was downhill. I never really did find myself again. And I at one point started wondering if I even knew myself to begin with. It’s really been a confusing time. There’s so much I have learned and unlearned in that period, it seems like I’m starting my life all over. Afresh.

As I write this, I’m still trying to figure out a lot of things. I’m taking it one step at a time. I don’t know what I will discover a long the way. But I hope I’m mature enough to not run away from my fears but face them head on. I hope I have found the courage to deal with things rather than sweep them under the rug. Because quite honestly, there is so much under the rug already I don’t think I can fit anything more under there.


In a world where everyone has an opinion on who you should date and who you shouldn’t, dating has become something of a controversy. People want to have direct opinions on anything and everything concerning your dating life. By people, I am not talking about only your friends and family but also strangers. Yes, with the evolution of the internet and technology at large, the world has become one global village. Everyone knows everyone. Or at the very least someone knows someone you know.

With social media taking root in most of our lives, updating statuses about the daily occurrences in our lives has become the norm. This kind of exposure makes the people we interact with feel like they know us more than just off the internet. Which isn’t true in most cases. But if a person is seeing the inside of your private world everyday, they definitely feel like they know you on a personal level. This in effect makes them feel entitled to having an opinion on said private life that they are experiencing with you on a daily level. All this sounds unbecoming but it happens subconsciously. By letting people know what’s happening in your world, you’re letting them be a part of that world.

Dating is one of the things that make it to our social media accounts these days. Somehow the thrill of a new relationship, the excitement of doing things and going places together overwhelms us and we find ourselves sharing these moments on our social media. Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook have all provided a platform for us to share the inner workings of our lives and more particularly our relationships. This in turn makes the people we interact with on these platforms feel entitled to comment on our updates.

Debates have sprung up more often than not on social media about who should date whom and who shouldn’t. And these standards blind us in what would probably be awesome relations with other people; but we overlook them because certain people do not have qualities that conform to standards set by your followers or friends on social media. You’re stuck in a place of “what will they think if I am involved with this kind of person?”

In my opinion, much as social media opens our eyes to the wrong things in our society such as misogyny, rape, disrespect, low self esteem and many many others, one should also learn to be comfortable in their own skin and be able to trust that they make the best decisions for themselves. It’s good to take advice from other people. But that is as far as it should go. No one should make your decisions for you. Because no one is living your life for you. The first person to look out for in this life is you; and the rest follow in line. This is not being selfish. It’s good to care about people. But they should come after you. Because how will you look after your loved ones if you have failed to look after yourself? Like the famous saying goes, you cannot pour out of an empty cup. Self love is a virtue everyone needs to adopt.

Therefore, if your partner is the perfect fit for you, if they make you happy then go for it. Go all the way with them. Keep it to a minimum with social media. Update only when you have got to. But most importantly seive through the advice that you get and take only what works for you. Keep toxic people at bay.

The handwriting tag

hehehehehe Who even starts any blopost like that? But its funny, bse actually I wasnt tagged to do this challenge but I did it anyway for reasons best known to me which will be revealed to you by the end of this post.

I have always lowkey wanted to show off my handwriting because even I crush on my handwriting…it’s beautiful undoubtedly. The curves of my d’s and b’s and p’s and s’s would make Nicki Minaj jealous. All through  my school days I got presents for best handwriting (drumroll). A good thing too bse otherwise Idk what other gifts I could have gotten.

Trust me to make a big deal out of this seemingly small and silly challenge…but honestly its not everyday that a girl gets to show of her handwriting especially in this era where all forms of communucation have been digitalised. So when I saw Beaton’s blog about the handwriting tag, I literally jumped at the challenge and here I am.

P.s If you dont agree that I have the prettiest handwriting in the whole wide world, go argue with your elementary school teacher.

My blue bic pen has no cover b’se I am careless like that

Being Human

Being human is hard. No, really it is. Your life is literally a rollercoaster of things that you have to go through, 90% of which you have no idea how to go through or how you even got there in the first place. You live your life believing all the things you have been raised to believe in, taking for granted all the thoughts you have, and ignoring all the little things that matter most in your life.

I mean we spend almost all our lives trying to better ourselves. Everything we do is just to make ourselves better than we currently are. The being born, going to school – and spending almost your entire childhood and teenage life among stangers-

And then one day, as you take that morning jog you have so often taken thirty minutes before getting ready to work, you run smack dab into a tree. A really huge tree. you stop and chuckle to yourself in surprise, like how could i really not see this big tree? Maybe you are at a good point in your life; you have a wonderful job, you are in great shape of body and mind, you have an amazing partner, and generally you couldnt really ask for more.That has a lot to say for your reaction.

But then again, you may get all angry and pissed and literally smoking at the top of your head and you start thinking; “what the hell was that tree doing right in the middle of my path? why would i run into a tree? what is wrong with these uncordinated body parts of mine? what the fuck is wrong with everything and everyone?” Maybe you’re in a really bad place atm. Nothing seems to be going right, money just slips out of your hands, your are fighting with the person you love most, your friends seem too busy even to spare thirty minutes for a chat, the pressure from your job is literally chocking you. If you are lucky to have a job. nothing seems to be going right. at all. That will explain your reaction too.

The whole point is our status quo more often than not determines our reaction to the varius things that life throws in our path. When we are generally happy, we find good in almost everything we experience. We laugh off the insults that maybe thrown at us, or any other misfortunes we may encounter. When we are unhappy on the other hand, we are mad at every little thing that crosses our paths, even the tiniest of things that don’t matter much are  enough to piss us off. We hardly find any humour in anything and generally life sucks. Literally.

Therefore, while dealing with people, lets just cut each other some slack because you never know what the other person is going through and much as it is not your fault for the way they react to you, they are human before anything else. And so are you. Taking time to understand the source of their reaction or where they are coming from would be a very kind act on their side.





I know for a fact there is a writer in me. She is there, I know she is, I can feel her. Sometimes nudging to get out, and me surpressing her because I know she just isn’t fully grown yet, not for this. Sometimes I feel she’s growing, perhaps a teenager and I can feel her raging emotions all over the place. Sometimes she escapes like all teenagers do, in quest for new adventures, in the hope that she’ll fit in with others of her kind, trying to be recognised by her peers, trying to impress her crush who is as eloquent as they come, trying to show everyone that she too can do this thing; that its just a walk in the park for her like it is for everyone else.

But deep down she knows she isn’t ready. She admits it too, except she hates to admit anything to me. Apparently, she is supposed to disagree with everything I say, whether we both know  its true or not. I know this bse I stumbled upon her journal the other day and I flipped through. I know it is wrong but I just couldn’t help it, because lets face it, she’s a part of me as much as I am of her. So somehow I deserved to know. And I am not trying to justify my breach of her privacy.

In said journal she also said she’s waiting for inspiration to strike. She said she knows she’ll know it when it comes. She wrote of the times she sometimes drifts off all of a sudden and falls in a writing frenzy, sometimes without enough writing space and so she squeezes words on a paper napkin at a coffee shop or ice cream parlour, or in a taxi and she types wildly away at her phone, sometimes exceeding her destination. Bits of many stories, ideas and thoughts that do not connect but make much sense, maybe only to her because no one else ever gets to read these.

Or how sometimes halfway through her workload she opens her wordpress draft and types away through the next hour or so, posts that never get published. I ask her about all this. I ask her why so much passion in her is still sizzling left un tapped, I ask her why she doesn’t let it all out, why she lets it bottle up  in her. And she laughs in that little teenage way of hers, that way that quietly says ‘I am just fifteen, I have my whole life ahead of me’ but aloud she says its not my time yet, I’ll know it when my time is here.

But we both know what she leaves unsaid. And however much infectious her confidence is, I know she nurses a quiet fear. I know she asks herself, “what if that time never comes? What if it comes and it passes and I don’t even notice?” I don’t need to read her journal to know this. I know her as well as she knows herself, maybe better. And so she withdraws into herself in that little teenage way of hers and plugs her earphones into her ears grabs a book and heads up to her room, like she always does when we both know there is something  we need to talk about but are not willing to talk about. And I am left there shaking my head and thinking how crazy teenagers are these days.


If we were having coffee, (which I btw hate so much because I read somewhere once that it is one of the causes of bad breath and beacause my first ever coffe date was an espresso instead of a capuccino), it would most prolly be a coffee I have forced myself to take because of one of the many reasons that I am going to list;

  • If we were having coffee, it would be because I wanted something from you- something I wanted so bad to overlook my hatred for coffee because people are more inclined to help people they relate with and so professing my “undying love” for an espresso and sharing your sentiments about it and wondering how people who prefer capuccinos over any other coffee cannot be trusted is more likely to make you help me than if I professed my undying hatred for coffee – sweetened or otherwise. (I can in my mind eye already see you storming off bse of your belief that anybody who doesnt like coffee is able to poison you. or worse stab you.)
  • If we were having coffee, it would be because I had a huge crush on you (you know the kind I had on Drew a few years back? Yeah like that one.) A crush huge enough to make me forget the dreary taste of coffee and turn it into the sweetest taste I have ever known, sweeter than a cold strawberry ,milkshake at Cafe Javas Kampala Boulevard on a hot sunny day. Why? Bse you my dearest crush thought so to. Because I worship the ground you walk on – technically speaking, and because…well I cant launch into all the reasons now. Thats a blog for another day.
  • If we were having coffee, it would be because I was diagnosed with a deadly killer disease (yes, deadly killer) whose only cure would be a cup of coffee within 24 hours. And well, I figured medicine would taste less awful and even go much faster if shared with somebody else. Especially someone who thinks coffee is man’s greatest invention or God’s greatest creation (that rhymes; the Esther rhyming bug is quite infectious)
  • If we were having coffee, I wouldnot even concentrate on any form of conversation however interesting it might be because my whole attention would be the dreary taste in my mouth and the effort i put in each swallow. That would pretty much take up my attention for anything else.

So, the only way we shall both have an interesting time and tell of interesting stories and escapades over a cup of coffee is only and only if you’re are having your cuppa b’se you obviously love your coffee like your whole life depends on it and I am having a cup of something else that tastes less…well coffeey.