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Showing posts with the label Random thoughts

Ni mbayaa!

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                 It was one of those days, there I was chilling after some hectic shughuli, just trying to catch my breath, nangoja mat ijae itoke stage nifike mtaa. I spot this girl amekaa kando yangu holding a water bottle, and it was like ¾ full. I was feeling a little thirsty, ok, maybe more than a little.  I say hi to her, Namsho design jua imenikaranga kama mimi ni kitunguu, na venye naskia ulimi imekauka, wacha tu. Si mnaelewa hii joto imekuwa recently? I go ahead and ask her if she would mind giving me a sip of her water?  It seems to me like she doesn't mind my request, because she passes her water bottle over to me. I'm like, I can finally quench my thirst. I take one big sip, and immediately regret it… aiyo!  My tongue is like sandpaper. Naenda kutema, naona kanjo ndio huyo, ananingoja niteme tu hivi, ashuke, na ashine na mimi proper! Inabidi tu nimemeza shingo upande. Ikiteremka naskia ni kama my throat is hosting ...
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Thoughts on (The Catcher in the Rye)

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                         It's a classic but with a heavy dose of notoriety within American culture considering the period it was published. You can Google or ChatGPT the controversies around it.  I had my own share of its intrigue when I first came across it, way back on campus. I still remember that encounter quite vividly like it was yesterday. There were the three of us around a table having some drinks after a difficult CAT. Sharing the table was my room mate, best friend. I will call him Y. To complete the table was X, a mutual lady friend whom I perceived to be a deep thinker.  Lying on the table was a collection of three books Y had just acquired to dilute the stress of academic reading. The first book was The Fountainhead. That's the first time I knew Ayn Rand was a lady and not a man. I can't seem to recall the second book but the top one was definitely, The Catcher in the Rye. Y was more into philosop...
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Absurdity of it

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                  I was in this virtual space with creatives, creative writers to be specific, you know what they say about birds of a feather, don't you? We were in this virtual space discussing different issues here and there when someone happened to pose this to the rest of us Can we play a little?   I'm tired of typing, my nails are becoming red. H ow many of you have asked yourself this?  “Am I actually doing the right thing?” “Is this story worth telling?” I must confess the more I make my story sound emotional, the more it's sounding like a comedy pi ece.   I related to it so much. I had been crafting a story to submit to a certain writing competition. I had been sitting on it for a while. It didn't have anything to do with creativity or writer's block, far from it. It could be the imposter syndrome creeping in, the vulnerability expressed by what I was penning, or how I was second-guessing everything I wrote.  One...
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