Kanyindo's Random Ramblings

I didn’t think that it was possible to make firm friends past a certain age in life. Don’t ask me why I settled on this (non) fact.  Maybe because I’m so set in my ways, I can be a bit weird sometimes, plus I rarely hang out and will happily spend a weekend at home, cooking, reading, pottering around, listening to music and chilling with my dogs. Not exactly a place to meet people and expand my social circle.  But I’m not complaining. I met Kemiyondo on Twitter.  Like, for real.  There I was, minding my own business and loving hard on Idris.  I remember it was about a month before my birthday, and people had started Tweeting Idris to wish me a Happy Birthday.  (This campaign was in its 6 th year. Eh. We tried). Yes. This actually happened. Sigh. So this chick starts trolling me.  Yes, TROLLING.  Talking about how she’s his other wife, bla bla bla.  We had some interesting exchanges. She has no manners. For real. This chick doesn't know when to

It’s been 3 years, 2 months and 56 days since Pops left us. Or one thousand, one hundred and sixty-two days. I can, for the most part, think about him and talk about him without ending up a sobbing pile on the ground, but it’s still difficult.  There are days I desperately want to share something with him and then it hits me that I can’t. (I still say it out loud anyway. Eish, what I’d give to hear his thoughts on Marmalade Mussolini). I had a pleasant memory of him the other day, precisely when I needed it.  I was tired, had just got back from work, was fed up and in no mood to adult AT ALL.  I flopped on the couch, and for some unknown reason I remembered one of the many church services we attended as a family during Christmas. My family knows how I dread those interminable services, and I have tried every trick in the book to dodge them.  To no avail. Me: I’m not feeling well. Ma:  Come we pray for you. Me: Let me stay behind and cook lunch. Ma:

Can I vent? Just a little bit? It’s a long one, so please bear with me. I am sick and tired of men who go around claiming to have slept with women who wouldn’t even touch them with a barge pole. I got a message from a friend of mine this morning asking if I knew of a certain guy.  I said yes.  She laughed and said, he’s been going around telling people that he dated me, my friend and another friend of ours, separately, for about a year each. This is not the first time this has happened to me.  Yet I cannot for the life of me understand it. You want to have sex with me? Ok.  You have created all kinds of elaborate fantasies of what you’d like to do to me in your mind? Alright then.  Too chicken shit to perhaps give it a shot or maybe you acknowledge that you are simply not good enough to step to me? FINE. (Usually with guys like this, it’s always the last one.  Self-awareness is key). But do not go flapping your gums talking about ‘I hit that’ in reference to me when

It has been 2 years, 9 months and 16 days since my Dad passed away. Or one thousand and sixteen days. It’s been ages, yet it has been a split second, at the same time. Some days are still pretty bad, but some are better than others.  And today started off as one of the better ones.  Since this is a good thing, I decided to be grateful about it, and write about it. Last night, I dreamt that a very dear uncle of mine was hosting a huge party at his house.  My cousins were there, my aunt and her sisters were there, and of course, my parents and siblings.  It was an awesome party!  Dreams where my Dad appears used to really upset me, but I’ve reached a stage in my grieving where they are more comforting than heart breaking.  (I've written about the stages of grief before- you can read the post here:  http://kanyindo.blogspot.ug/2016/02/gratitude-list-stages-of-grief-revisited.html  ). Anyway, my alarm went off at 4am as usual, and as I got ready for work I was