Posted on by crystal · 11 Comments

Hunting for ideas?

I did an odd thing today: I started a part time job.

It’s not really part time, because it involves quite a lot of input, and consumes a sizeable chunk of my week. But I call it part time because they let me get off early so I can beat the school bus home. Plus, I get one day off in a week, which is pretty cool.

I feel like a bit of a sell-out, because I quit my job to start a business, and now I’ve ended up in another job, albeit for fewer hours and much lower pay. But I’ve learnt to see the pros, not just the cons.

For one thing, working part time takes me out of myself. I’ve always been an introvert, and I’m told that as a child, I’d hide in my room with books and headphones. My brothers would go for days without seeing me, yet we lived in the same four-bedroomed house. I mostly write from imagination, and I live my whole life inside my head. But sometimes this means my plots aren’t authentic, and my characters are alien and idealistic. Being forced to go out and meet real people brings more … life … into my writing, more grounding.

Plus, my new job is in a human art gallery. No, we don’t have orgies of body painting or anything like that, but every person that I deal with is an artist, a poet, some kind of creative. The firm I work for is a writers’ forum, a kind of offline aggregator, so  my day job feeds my business. I get to build my network, and sometimes, in doing my job, I link with actual clients.

Mingling offline also gives me new ideas. I do an average of eight articles a week, and for one particular client, I write about a thousand words every day. Today I was wondering what to write when I saw three police officers get into a catfight in broad daylight; and only one of them was a cat. Those ten seconds have given me enough fodder for quite a while. And it’s good exercise too. Sometimes all you need to get your mental engines running is to try something a little different.

In my professional life, I handle lots of different things – poetry, screenplays, management, logistics, editing – and that means my mind is kept alert through practise and variety. Take a look around and see if there’s anything I can do for you; I’m always up for a little exercise…

Posted on by crystal · 18 Comments

Again with the hair!

If I have one true obsession, this is probably it. Which is strange, because I really don’t fuss over my hair. I like my dreads because I can hit the salon once a month, spend an hour under the drier, and ignore it for the next thirty days. So it’s strange that I call this an obsession.

But the truth is I love hair. I love to see it on other people’s heads, to touch it, to run my hands through it. I saw this Citi Hoppa conductor yesterday, a tough gangster-looking chick with a killer bob – I couldn’t stop staring! It was weird that her coiffe was so girly, but it just looked so perfect!

I wish I had caucasian [or at least Asian] hair so I could make it stand, dye it purple and pull a Roxette, just like my avatar. But, of course, if I actually had Caucasian hair, I’d probably still ignore it. I like my Sailor’s hair because it’s brown and softly spiky, I can run my hands through it, and he never has to comb it. Perfect!

Back to my own head. The short look has grown on me. And thanks to selective perception, I now notice all the girls [and boys] with long luxurious locks. Kind of like that scene in Ally McBeal where Georgia cut her hair, and then Nell came and twirled hers in the bathroom mirror.

But the odd thing is that I’m not jealous. I actually like my hair like this, even as everyone asks why. I think it’s because everyone asks why. I’ve always liked going against ‘them’, standing out for all the wrong reasons. In a world where the ladies either want their hair deliciously long, intricately bobbed, or rebelliously shorn, I kind of like being inbetween.

So, I think I’ll keep my hair short after all. Unless I change my mind. Or unless my Sailor says otherwise *wink* He’s surprisingly quiet on the matter. But then again, he’s a guy. Do you think he’s even noticed?

♫ Lying from you ♫ Linkin Park ♫

 

Posted on by crystal · 477 Comments

The blackest white girl…

You know those days you sometimes get when you just want to scream?

I has it.

I’m sure there’s some convenient lolcat somewhere to express this sentiment, but right this second, I don’t really give a flying f*ck.

I woke up this morning with a sharp lower back pain that I last associated with labour. Or cramps. Eff. It only subsides if I curl up in foetal position, and I can’t exactly be placental all Saturday.

No, it’s not because I got some last night. It actually started when I tried on my kid brother’s glasses. It induced a mild headache, soon followed by general malaise, and by the time I got into bed four hours later, I thought I was going to die.

Not really, no, but I felt pretty bad.

Then come this morning, the hell-invoking ache in the back. I blame Mwaura.

But I digress. This was supposed to be about coconuts and greys.

See, I’m told that I’m too white.

That’s not necessarily a bad thing. The boy that I love is white, and he’s tolerably fond of plain old me. Plus, I suppose between skating dates and wind-chime hunting, my race is sometimes in doubt.

I’ve also been told my writing isn’t Kenyan enough, and that ‘real people don’t talk like that’. Something about picture-perfect superficial dialogue.

Thing is, I’m as blue-black as  iodine Ajuma … only with a little more hair. I’m often described as ‘foreign-looking’, though both Kale’s and Jang’os are quick to own me, and some Nubians think I’m theirs as well. I suppose that’s why I liked living in Dar so much – because there I actually was foreign, as opposed to being lost in my own home.

I like the way I am. I don’t always understand it, but I like the way I am. And I like that some people like it too.

The thing with humans is that we’d all like to be accepted for what we are, but most of us learn to be what is liked. We conform to be more popular, which I think is really, really sad.

But as a business-person, I’m faced with a dilemma. Do I water down my product into what the masses want, or do I learn to make some money from the few who like ‘just me’?

Most people agree that quality-wise, Capital is the best station ever. But as much as we complain about Kiss playing the same songs over and over, and having shows that are sometimes … less than pleasant, they still have the greatest ratings.

What to do? Stick to Kiss or pull a Capital?

God I want to scream!

♫ Fly away ♫ Lenny Kravitz ♫