Ripped Manners. 

It is ridiculously amazing how everytime I walk into that shower, or when I am doing some damn laundry or worst of all, when I am doing some stupid dishes, (this is the point where you curse yourself for being that African dish washing machine, that automatically gets controlled by only one yell coming from your mother who is probably resting her feet on that overstaffed ottoman stool in the living room) I get these incredibly brilliant ideas about what to write about.

“Should I write about that smokie pasua I recently had in Mada?”

“Wait a minute, that fashion cop with her long and baggy skirt, can’t she make a perfect blog?”

“What about that old man who sat next to me in that matatu thinking that maybe by being near the driver, he would probably arrive in town before those restless high schoolers at the back, can’t he feature in any of my articles so that he can consider himself a celeb for even a day?”

All these ideas dissipate when I turn off the shower, they magically grow wings when I have hung those countless clothes, they usually vanish when the dishwasher has been been turned off. 

That is the time when I get back to my ripped manners. Where writing is only essential when you are penning down notes from that nondescript lecturer, where reading is only prudent if you have a CAT or a RAT soon, where answering  questions regarding Cashflows earns you the title, ‘accountant of the week’, where your statements balancing is something to be so proud of to the extent of feeling that KPMG should consider your application as their Chief Auditor.

Well, these behaviors form such a significant part of our lives, they make us believe that life has some certain unit in which it is calibrated with. Speaking of calibration, did Lucy Gichuhi, Australian Senator representing the state of South Australia for the Family First Party, follow these standards? What about Sarah Ikumu, the 15-year old aspiring singer from Milton Keynes who is in year 11 and currently studying for her GCSEs, was she bound by those ‘principles of life’ that dictate our living?

Tough questions, Huh? 

I wouldn’t need much inspiration, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, in herself, is a powerhouse of motivation. These are the people who miraculously open our eyes and make us believe that life owes us no shit! Yes, I’ve just typed shit in case you are wondering if what you are reading is an error in my typing, No it isn’t! 

Like rugged jeans, we will probably be new at something at some point. We will have to harness some skill in that yoga class we often skive, that course unit that you attended the first lesson only and thought that you should not read too much because people might think you are overreacting, that WordPress blog that has more drafts than published posts, that crush of yours, who after a struggle of sitting next to, you updated your statuses on all your social media accounts, ‘finally, I sat next to him or her…’ Heck! If we do not take up the challenge, we slowly fade, our fabric becomes a better rug than a cloth and ultimately, we become those second-hand ripped jeans or jackets that give crap a run for its money. 

You did not wake up today to be mediocre, over to you darling…

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