The High

There are two things (time spent with a woman excluded for now) which when I engage in, the concept of time changes. Forget how they say time seems to slow down, I'll go with; time ceases to exist. Time seems to slow down suggests that one keeps checking and is aware of the drag. Time ceases to exist tiende ni it is as if one is in a trance.

Before I confuse myself: these two are: When in the creative process of design and when in the execution part of music. There is a reason as to why I'm being verbose, other than the fact that I don't want to take time to write simpler, shorter sentences. You see, those two are different.

Design, by its nature, forces one to continually be creating. This excludes resizing of artworks already created. If  I am designing a logo for exambo, every movement of an element is part of creation. When I wake to: the three minutes feel like three hours or vice versa.

*Writer sneezes and proceeds to blow nose then sniffle as he is under the weather*

On the other hand, music creation (writing/arranging) can be tedious. I find it tedious. I am aware of the passage of time. Execution however, even if it is exact imitation, is effortless and takes to me to that place.

I once told a friend (could have said it twice or to two friends but then that would kill this) that I think music is better than sex. Always use 'I think' so that you can later on defend yourself. She told me it was because I had never had good sex.

I think comparing music to sex is being unfair...to sex. You tell me, how long does good sex last in your 'system'? You're kidding.

For Keeru

I meet this girl who is a friend of a friend and every time I bump into her-at KPN or the Jazz event she promotes at Alliance Francaise there is something that stands out. It bugs me so much that the day I get it I get to the house and grabbing a pen jot this down. I've always wondered how people who do not have dramatically expressive facial features express love: hence the ending. She made a for a good muse.

With this one,

There is no flickering of lashes-

Or furrowing of brows;

You will see no-

Curled or contorted lips;

Flared nostrils.

She has the perfect poker blush.

With this one,

Listen like a blind man,

To subtle lilts,

Swings in melody,

Coarse, harsh breaks and cracks-

Of pain massaged.

And if you press your ear long enough,

You will hear love sighing

http://wagadu.ning.com/

KCSE Paper 2

KCSE Paper 2

Using a tree diagram, calculate the probability of an electricity outage after a rainy day in Nairobi. Take your time. (30 marks)

So I just woke up on a not-so-rainy Saturday morning and with the burning desire to type this post went straight to my laptop. In fact to be honest it's not raining at all. There's a possibility that the sun could shine. There's this feeling that negotiations with the sun are going on well. At least the troops of droplets have been called off today. Maybe waiting for Nairobians to do their washing and then...hehemuhahah!

Anyway, there's no power. Thank God I opted to read a book when I got to the house yesternight.

Remember I mentioned that I'm yet to make breakfast because I headed straight to type this, yes? I had a dream. I was walking with someone and we were discussing art. Weird, right? I get it. All my morning dreams are weird. Not that the other middle of the night dreams are not, but the dreams from 4/5 onwards are usually on another level altogether.

Like this one for instance. Soooo, as I was trying to convince he/she (I won't tell) why worldclass art cannot become popular in Kenya, an idea hit me. Just as I turned to open my mouth, I woke up. Fortunately or unfortunately I still remember what I wanted to say.

I'm sharing this idea knowing that the possibility of it being used by someone exists but is low. In fact to be honest I'm sharing it so that someone runs with it. I'll later tell myself when I am 85 with ridges on my wrinkled face that I changed the world when I was younger. This may already be in play and I am not aware of it. If I was, I wouldn't bother typing this on an empty stomach now, would I? Here it goes.

Why it is difficult for art to be nurtured at the grassroots level (Braeburn, Makini, Riara and other groups of schools are not included here for obvious reasons) is because it needs sponsors when a school has not yet reached the point it calls itself a group. Almost the same as a company. Until your TV station gets to that stage where it is a media group your views on digital migration are not worth considering. Hihihi.

In Kenya, corporate sponsors who touch on art and artsy themes do so with the intention of reaching an affluent class. Of course this is not limited to Kenya so apply it to your country if you wish.

In most CSR projects however, there is always some school in some far-flung corner of this country that had their roof repaired by staff in branded caps and tshirts from either Total or Safaricom or Bidco (though Bidco also give away oil. Maybe Safcom should consider airtime donation...jussaying). These same roof/wall-building corporates sometimes hold art competitions. The ones I can think of off the top of my head are Kiwi, Google (for their Doodle. Should that be in caps?) and Safaricom some time back.

This is our key to incorporating professional guidance and inculcating popular appreciation in the community especially to a young generation that will impact the future. Ever heard of how Kenya's best and finest artists (world-class by all definitions) came from one village? Most of them did. I read it in the Sunday Nation about 3 years ago.

By now you have an idea where this is heading. Instead of corporate X asking kids to send in their artwork via mail/email, they can contribute to the process of art creation, albeit at a smaller scale. This is how it works in my head.

Corporate X earmarks Maji Masuri Primary School for a makeover. This includes digging of borehole, building of brick walls, replacement of iron sheets used in roofing, donation of books and pencils and chalk for the teachers and more. Note: just the chalk for the teachers.

Digging a borehole does not take a day. I'd like to believe that. Within the period of this makeover, an art competition can be held. In walks Martin Soi or Jackie Karuti the Third (that's her name on FB) or Nduta Kariuki or (I'm not yet done showing off...or Janice).

During the one-month period of Project Makeover for Maji Masuri, professional artists will guide these kids as they create artwork for ze competition. Guide being the operative word.

On the day that the CEO of Corporate X shows up, cameras in tow, staff in the background carrying mbaos and stuff, it should be pin-up day for the kids as well. They should know the pressures of being in ADD and transnighting to be ready for pinup when you could have done it weeks ago only that you had more important drinks to finish. Hehehe!

Point is, they should get the concept of mounting artwork but more importantly they should see Soi and think to themselves (or herself-for that random weirdo Turkana girl in a Goth tshirt) that "I'd like to be like this guy. Live off art."

Most definitely this pin-up will be seen by teachers, parents, staff and ultimately documented for the world to see. In a small and huge way, this will be the beginning of a generation that appreciates good art and creative works in general-beyond dancing at wedding receptions.

There you have it! Now to check on my 3 chapos which have been waiting in bated breathe. Ciao!

How to Become a Professional Musician

Over the past couple of years I've been asked this question by friends and acquaintances. The latest request made me post this. 

Warning: Long post ahead. Keep left.

Now I don't consider myself an authority on this matter. After all I can't claim 100k plus video views on YouTube or a chart topping hit single. I can't claim to have worked with the greats at a very involved level and I know they don't know my name. I was shocked though when I said hallo to Chizi at Choices some months back and he recognized me. In fact he knew that I am a musician. Name dropping is an important part in earning credibility. Hopefully now you'll keep reading.

As I was saying, I don't know much but since the people who ask me think I do why not help. Here's my list of the things I do/did, the things you should do and the things you'll be told to do.

Word of advice: Mastering how to package yourself as an artiste before you learn how to create substantial, musically muscled(correct word needed here) content will make you another mediocre, below average musician. Just saying.

First before we scroll down let's decide if we want to be recording musicians or performing musicians. There are subtle differences and the lines blur every now and then. However, knowing what you want to focus on from the get go makes a difference in the approach you take. Kwa mfano, the person who decides to record and lip synch during performances has no need of (is assumed to have no need for) knowing the difference between a guitar solo and drum roll transition.

My advice below is biased towards those interested in performance. Methinks recording musicians should master performance first. It makes them better prepared to handle anything/everything.

1. Get a vocal trainer or join a choir.

The Kenyan musician has been brought up on pitch imperfect music (if that makes sense) from Mugiithi to Genge/Kapuka vocalists to crusades with shouting praise and worship leaders singing off key and back on. We have been brought up listening to plain (minus technique) Benga greats. These people have given birth to a vocally lazy industry. They however left us with authentic styles very unique to Kenyans.

Point is, get someone who will help you achieve certain basics in tone and pitch. Someone who will help you know that it is time to transpose or sing a minor harmony as opposed to a major one. If getting a trainer (and I'd insist that even after becoming a 'celeb' with shows across Europe, you still get one) is impossible due to flat pockets, get musical friends. Mostly instrumentalists. An instrumentalist must know what a chord is and be able to hear when you sing off key. This option applies if you want to avoid church choir as well.

2. Set aside at least one hour daily for vocal practice.

Refer to the point above on a generation of lazy singers. I forgot to mention auto tune as well: the software that takes all the blemishes in your voice and makes you sound like a Robot. What am I saying?

Ummm...oh, yes! Now, if you practice faithfully for one (just 1) year, I can assure you your voice will be better than Nameless's after 3 months.

I am a product of vocal practice for 3 years. When I started out (with an award under my belt) I thought I was 90% there. I knew I was the it! I felt I just needed an opportunity to be a star. Looking back now I can hear how flat I sounded and wonder at my confidence back then.

One hour of scales (the most common doh ray mi fa so la ti doh), breathing and tongue exercises will increase your range and tone quality tremendously. Keyword: faithfully. Ask Joan Matata, Bethuel Lasoi and Josh Simani (TPF's Josh and Amos) what it took to sound like they do. And trust me, those are vocal giants in mine humble ears.I am yet to chat up Nigeria's Waje for her vocal secrets.

3. Read widely on songwriting. 

There are hundreds (I didn't count) websites that will help you become a worldclass songwriter. Research, read and listen. Berklee, Eric Wainaina's alma mater, gives out free material on their page. Soma.

4. Write.

The whole point of your desire to become a musician, I would assume, is to be like *insert favorite artiste name here*. That artiste did not do covers at Karaoke nights only. They did not do it as a hobby. They created their own material and put it out there.

Write a new song every day. This sharpens your skills. The first time my brother Eugene excitedly approached me with his first song and asked for my opinion I replied, 'It is good. But I guarantee that by the time you write your 20th song you will not like this one as much as you do now.' He didn't catch feelings. Because he is my brother. And because he is equally candid with me when it comes to graphic design (he is a guru).

Elani's Chweya used to say hi to you and pass a new song by you everytime you bumped into him at the Alliance Francaise parking lot. He was told the same thing I'm telling you by Sauti Sol's Bien. Write and write and write.

Like with everything else you will be able to pen a song as good as *favorite artiste here*'s in a year's time.

5. Listen

As I told a friend, having a playlist full of the latest riddims only will not get you far even if you aim to be a raggamuffin artiste. Why are they called muffins? Ever watched The Voice? Watch The Voice. Notice how the  R n B star, Usher, knows Rock, how Aguilera knows Country, Blake knows Classical music and how Adam Levine (Maroon 5) loves soulful black music from the 80s.

Does this mean you should not do what you love? No. By all means go ahead and rap like Lauryn Hill does. The idea here is to open your ears and your mind's ability to play with melodies by spreading your net wide.

6. Attend concerts and practice sessions

What you hear on radio has gone through layers and layers of processes. This makes it perfect for radio, for listening at home over and over again. However because you have decided this is what you want to do, it is better if you experience it raw. Go to a studio and get a feel of the place. Watch and learn.

Concerts are perfect because you have a one-man-against the world sort of thing going on. Singing in the shower or for a friend is one thing. It is quite another with the pressure of the crowd waiting, the sound guy messing with your microphone, the drummer on steroids and the guy who performed before you hogging groupies. Here the singer gets to learn also how to distinguish good singers from bad ones because all pitchy notes come to the fore. The upside is you get to enjoy really good vocalists in their element at their most authentic state. Does that make sense?

Finally you get contacts that will be useful when you start putting your music out there.

7. Learn an Instrument

Instruments will help in 50, 000 ways. Even I don't know all of them. Note that drums and other percussive instruments, awesome as they are they will not help much. Jussaying again.

Learning an instrument will:

• Help in vocal training as you have scales whenever you need them 
• Help with ear training. With an instrument as a measuring stick your ability to pick out notes will improve
• You will find yourself learning other people's songs and this helps with vocal styles
• As you learn songs you will learn songwriting
• You will be able to write your own songs as well

Learning an instrument opens your mind again to numerous possibilities in terms of what you can do within a scale or a chord. You also get to learn musical terms like scales and chords.

Now (after months of work) you can start asking me to slot you in as a curtain raiser at the next Twendelele. You can start doing Open Mic events and as you grow...(I'd advice at least 2 years), start talking to producers on recording your material. Remember content first then packaging. We create packaging for products not the other way round.

Just before you run along, notice how I've overused the word learn as if I only schooled up to class 8? Never stop learning, never stop practicing. Can you hear the difference in Beyonce's voice at Destiny's Child and right now? Do you hear growth? Are you listening or watching her dance?! That girl/woman/lady is a vocal powerhouse for that reason.

So there you have it! Right theeeere. See it? Good. Go ye and make music.

Have Some Whine

I'm tired, sleepy and I just lost my wallet this evening. An hour ago. Does 10.30 pm count as evening? Yeah. I'm also hungry and sleepy. I don't know whether to sleep or eat. What will Richie, the neighbour to my right who knows everyone, think of someone cooking at such a drunk man's hour? Acha Richie, what will his girlfriend think? If either of them is awake, or half awake, or wakes up in the middle of my warming the Kao guy's chapos? It's actually one chapo.

By the way I'm also thirsty. That means heating the water. The house is yet to be sufficiently furnished. That is code for: the house echoes every sound-me doing voice warmups in the bathroom and definitely heating the water with that loud Ssshhh sound that heaters were born to make.

I use this blog to keep you updated on my sometimes lifeless life. If I don't update in a while it's either because I now have a life, or because I still don't and making you aware of it really doesn't add value to your life or... I'll start a new sentence now because that was going to end up as a winding or-thread. I'm starting a new one to attempt explaining that previous sentence but realizing there is no point to that as well.

I'll avoid (thanks to Oyunga Pala's advice to Bikozulu) saying 'I digress' everytime I digress so just try and keep up. Hehe! In this post I intend to inform you that nothing major has happened in my life and ... Ok, maybe there is. I have a new job. I've been at it for 2 weeks now actually. Notice I did not use an exclamation mark after the word job because I think people should celebrate new jobs 6 months later if they still believe it was a great move. Otherwise premature celebrations are for the subject's family and friends. I think the same should apply to weddings/marriages. If by any chance you noticed the third person mention kindly ignore. Thanks.

So, the new job is new. Ermmm... still trying to get my bearing-this has nothing to do with the job but more of the people. I need to know who to not piss off and when. Does that make sense? Lemme rephrase: I need to know who I should avoid getting into a pickle with and better yet their peak 'moody' hours/days/seasons. Trust me, that statement does not apply to ladies only. That I think you might think so does not make me a chauv...ah, whatever man, take it as you like.

Now that I've been typing this I think I've gotten excited enough to lose 30% of the sleepy feeling and 20 of the thirst. Which is a good thing I guess.

Before last weekend only one friend of mine had seen these walls. Now the inner circle shall enter, one by one (I made an exception and had two of the awesomes here last weekend). If you never get to see them (the walls) don't catch feelings. Why you ask? Because life is hard as it is and there are more important things to catch feelings over.

Now I'll sign off.

There are people who have an impact on you: Emmanuel Nyabera and Cyrus Kinyanjui. I salute you. There are many others of course but for now my two former boss/mentors are the ones in mind.

Now to have some water to sort out this sorethroaty feeling. Time:11.47pm

Oh, almost forgot that I lost my wallet. Crap! You know I've never lost my wallet in my entire 27 years in Kenya and 2 days in Uganda? Never. Of course the first 14-16 years don't count since I didn't have one but that's not the point. I've never lost a wallet. Now to start the ID replacement journey. Argh!

Mi naenda kulala.

The Fallen Ones

Look out!

The Ideals are falling;

This is the fifty year end.

Stone upon uncut stone,

Rumbling and tumbling to the ground,

Smashing against rock into ashen smoke.

Don't run!

Stand like the man you are

And savor sourly

The slice of Italian-made,

Blue-tint glass shards,

Into your soft dust-speckled skin.

Who built this?

Stay.

Silently, solemnly, with a subtle smirk -

 Watch them bury you -

Through and through;

Then rise.

bodo2014

Now, ideally a poem should not be explained. I will elaborate on this one simply because as I said, that is an ideal. You may still interpret it in your own way usijali.

As we form and end various relationships at different points of life, there are certain constants. We either get friends who will help us through tangible rewards (like loaning us/giving out hugs and fist thumps when our team wins) and/or those who help by being what we want to be.  We search for friends who uphold our ideals as/more than we do. Ultimately we relate to our idea of what people are.

These ideas sometimes are our own creations/creatures. Sometimes something happens (a word, a situation, a preacher in a bus :) and opens our eyes to the fact that we've been living a dream. Not that this person has changed, just that the image we had has fallen. The greatest 'most principled' friends become 'kawaida' normal human beings. The ideals fall.

Of Blackouts and Chicken

1. My thoughts on a popular video...Song.No.Video.Meh.Vocals.Wow! Moving on swiftly...

2. My thoughts on the subject of this post...Song. Okay. Video. Great! Vocals. Read on...

Picture this, you've bought your ingredients, including a voluptuous hoho and once you've locked yourself in, you proceed to do a bit of washing saving the pleasure of slicing, swishing, pouring and even lighting the gas for later.

After  you've undressed to your bare tu-thingies, in line with the 4th law of nature that says you shower after washing everything else, and turned the knob that promises hot jets of water, something happens.  Lights out.

The first words out of your mouth (even if more than three) are most probably laced with profanity.

But then my mouth is not your mouth. So I censor the profanities and whisper a phrase with just one bleep. I pause for a full minute. My theory always is, if the lights came back immediately (as they do very many times), any movement on my part will be wasted effort.

Is there comfort in numbers?

After the moment of awkward pitch darkness, I decide to dress up. Kabisa. Theory? It could be an invasion by terrorists or gangs or the boogie man. Boogie man. Enehu, so as I chuck the bathroom I notice there's light outside the door.

I dress up quickly, walk out to discover that, alas, the angel of darkness didn't have the key to some houses. So back in, I cook haraka. I decide to play Mwanzo and Barua ya Dunia back to back. I dice and slice, singing (maybe loudly) along to Bien and Maureen and at some point, when listening to Koo Koo, I get an epiphany that necessitates a blogpost.

I've told my music-leaning friends that I find it important that every musician hides gems in their music recordings. These are quail-sized licks, ad libs that for the musical ear sound like aromated matumbo.  Kwanza there's this girl who cooks. Wololo! I think she's the one who's aromated, not the food. Lame? So?! Go sit on a cactus!

Enehu, so as I listen to Maureen show off (yes, the girl shows off at the oo in koo) I decided that there's something else that is essential to a great track. I walk to the laptop, back to a get a towel to dry my hands on then back to the machine and start typing. By the time I get to the second paragraph of this post I realize I can't remember what it was I wanted to tell you. You who have taken time to scroll through this 431-word post.  Want to count? They're actually 460.

As I type this, my laptop battery is almost up. My food is almost ready. I don't know how I will eat in dead silence then sleep. I can't even read a book. This is just sad.

So, goodnight.

Remembered just before the machine died.

So, I wanted to say it is also essential that one is able to do something no one can ever attempt better or succesfully. Wyclef has the thing he does at the end of his phrasing that is gruffy and sharp. In Koo Koo, Maureen does something no other woman who dares try to do , now and in future, thinks is easy. Don't do easy. Perfect it. Anyone who tries sounding like Nameless for instance will always sound like a hoax. Haya, sasa machine iko na lifesaver ya yellow 

Skip and Dance

Disclaimer: This post is sappy. Don't complain about the writer's personality after reading it.

My life is on the right track. It is where I'd like it to be. Of course in a way that would mean I haven't considered where God wants it to be. But then I honestly don't know where He wants it to be. So according to me, it's on the right track.

No. It's not.

I've just been given some news. Interesting news. So captivating that I can't seem to get my mind back to the Mother's Day concepts I was working on.

I'd like to go back to 2 weeks back. Take you there and explain why today seems to have the same effect. But I won't. I will try.

When I was in Class 2 (at Hermann Gmeinner. That spelling was confusing. So I'm not sure that's the correct one and if I take time to Google it, I'll lose my mojo. So let's work with that for now), the teacher, I think it was Miss (or Madam) Bilha told us to write a composition about 'My Best Friend.'

So you're reading this blog post. With its many interruptions such as this one. Where do you think my story is headed?

I didn't know what to write. Long story short, on that occasion and another one later on in Nzoia Sugar Company Primary School (different class and teacher), I picked one of my close friends and wrote about him, sure that no one wrote about me.

In both occasions, I was struck by fear when this subject came up. Best friend. I was everyone's friend. I was no one's best friend. Because? Inspite of? I dunno. I picked that up (dunno) last year.

Fast forward. Pause. High School. Moment of reflection as people 'pair' up and same situation. Fast forward again. Pause there. Right there. Back kidogo. Ummm...there! There. First year campus. Cliques. I knew everyone. I joined campus three weeks after official orientation date but in a week's time I knew almost (80%) of them. I was the guy people would ask who 'nani' is when they needed help and didn't know the name of the light-skinned guy at the back of the class. Yet I was not strictly part of any clique. At the periphery of some but not full member.

You're wondering about people in the estate back home and probably feeling sorry (if female) and bored (male).

The best way of explaining this phenomenon, I found out much later, was my growing up. When your life pans out in such a way that you move after every 3 or so years of living in a town, it becomes difficult to sink roots. It's almost impossible to have the kind that mango trees have. You probably manage Mangrove ones that just keep you afloat.

So, when you finally think you've managed to carve out something and then it slips through your fingers, well, it can be damaging. But that has nothing to do with the news. Which I won't share for now. Just know it's depressing. 6 months (probably less) and a day after  I've seen my work on banners and gone through the shock and elation of it, this isn't what I expected.

I await confirmation-via email. So I'll go kneel and tell Him to do something.

Before I got the news, I had come up with this plan (as I walked to 'mbeiz' for lunch);

1. Purchase everything for the house by the end of the year and then focus on investing.

2. Start on a Marketing course so that in 2 years I can quit and market what I love most: Music.

All that might have to wait. For now, pull up a chair and sit. Watch as I mend (or try mending) my friendships (God knows I value them), I take on all the projects around and finally as we ( God and/through me) pull off weird maneuvers with projects lined up.

What can I say? Nothing is tumbling yet. Okay, some are. But then again, I can't just sit and watch movies, as tempting as it sounds.

Last week on Bodo's Blog...

Last week on Bodo's Blog...

Hahahahaha! I make myself happy! You see, in my head I can see the look on your face and makes me laugh so hard I start getting hunger pangs. Okay, I'm done.

Back to the story of how I met Anita.  i'm serious.

Now every time I try throwing in, "Remember Miss Bilha?" I'm overpowered by "I can't believe we were deskmates in Nursery School!"

Me: I remember Lucy, the mzungu girl and...

Felix: Wow! Remember Kate Wami?

Joy: Kate Wami is my best friend. Looks very different now! Ever seen...

Do I blame God for this predicament? For not knowing who Kate Wami was and only shariing memories of one mean teacher Jacinta? No! I blame my mother's boss for this particular situation. Not anything else, just this moment.

To cut the long(short) story short (shorter), a some point the Kapten's joined the conversation. Fullie (spelt F.U. double L.I.E :-D What?! F.U. Double L.I.E. In case you didn't get it, lemme repeat. No? Ok)

Fullie was in the same class as Allan.

Me: We were family friends. In fact I met her the other day...

Fullie: If you were in Anita's class how come you don't remember my brother?

Me: Ummm... I was not in exactly the same class. I was in North or South

Joy: Yaani I can't believe it! You remember...

So, this is how I met Anita.

I can't remember. Relax, uskonde. I honestly can't remember the vivid details  of our first meet. This is what I remember:

I remember after moving in to Memorial estate (that is how I remember it being called) and waking up disoriented. You know how it is the first day after kuhama, right?

I have memories of waking up to make cars out of UHT Tetrapak paper. I remember sitting with his brother Dennis on the railings down at the field and him showing me his thumb nail (the nail of his thumb) with a streak of black. Of beauty spots. He had a jungle green jeep the size of my computer mouse complete with an armed soldier inside.

I remember Allan in the school uniform being the last born he is.

I remember passing Anita by the school corridor and looking forward to prize giving day hoping I become number 1 and not 2 because she would get the prize.

I remember her round face. I remember her in a dress, black shoes and white stockings as we played on the sand pile outside our home.

I remember watching Sarafina at our Sudanese neighbour, Ball's house. I remember  going for mass at the cathedral.

All memories of Eldoret are fond. Even beatings after losing my 5th pair of shoes in 4 weeks.

I met her at a Wedding in August last year. Very jovial. Nowadays she wears specs. We chat every now and then. After like 5 months. Oh, and I owe her lunch.

How I Know Anita

Apparently  dunia ni ballgum i.e. is swahili for the world is small. I was in Kamato, Lambwe Valley, Homabay county this past weekend and at least had an excuse to miss a steamy Hisia Sunday.

So I'm seated at the back with Fullie to my right and Joy to my left. I knew both at different points in my short life,with milestones marked every March. Fullie is always tallkative but today he is quiet. At first I thought it is because he felt like a third wheel-when you are two guys and a girl, and you don't know the girl then it goes without saying... 

So he kept busy staring at his phone and texting every now and then. I can bet you 30 dollars it was Ivy.  I don't have 30 dollars so if you win this bet good luck getting your money.

So being the awkward-situations-phobic me, I tried including him in conversation, sometimes starving the girl. ("Who does that?!" I know what you are thinking, but stay with me).

At some point the conversation moves to Eldoret. I can't remember how. Joy can. Sharon can explain why. I feel so smart right now.

Enehu, I mention something about growing up in Eldoret and going to SOS Hermann Gmeiner Primary School. Forget the long name, focus on the people to my left and right lighting up and loudly exclaiming, "You were in...I was also there!" in different tongues a la the disciples at Pentecost. By the way, last week's Wednesday was Ash Wednesday.

I'm speechless for some few seconds and minutes after this, mostly because I was shut out of the conversation by the two. To be continued....

Life Happens Still

I’m creating my portfolio. I’ve gotten some 2 solid leads I want to pursue. I am shocked at the diverse nature of my assignments covering just 3 and a half months. I guess I should be grateful for the fact that this is a big company.

Co-incidentally, as I ask my direct boss on how to go about creating a brand guideline/brand bible, he informs me of my Big Boss’s concerns on whether I have internalized the corporate brand. My direct boss thinks I have. He’s a better designer so methinks that’s what counts. Of course now I have to impress Big Boss over the next few weeks.

Still, let me finish with this portfolio and see what more is out there. Just in case.

I am proud of the fact that there are press releases and some designs with my copy writing. We’ll see how this pans out in the next 3 years.

By the way I think I should do like a whole month of ‘serious’ prayer to unclog some things that seem too chilled out to move. Me included.

My inner circle has greatly changed over the last 3 years, in a good way.

Ever wondered who reads your blog? Ever wondered whether they are waiting to see whether you’ve matured enough for them to refer you to some ‘big’ guy? It doesn't matter which field you are in.

Ever wondered whether your friends are keeping up to date with your life just through your writing and will hold it against you at some future? What about that hot, intelligent ‘potential’? Will she just find your blog and have you figured out by the second date?

Does this influence how you write and what you post?

But then again, you probably don’t have your own blog or have given it a name as brilliant as untwisted logic which does not betray who you are. Either way, you only sit and laugh/marvel/judge those of us who because of some weird complex have decided to lay ourselves bare to the world (at least the computer-literate members of the global village.) If my mother read this blog…

Before you go, check out this event's poster. I designed it. So do the necessary :-)

So long folks!