Date the guy that reads

Date the guy that reads because it is easier to buy him a gift. He has an open mind and he seeks to develop it. It doesn't matter if it's a brand new hard cover straight off a bookshelf or a dusty second hand dog-eared classic from his favourite author. He will accept it because he knows the gift is merely an outward expression of affection.

Date the guy that reads because his compliments are straight from the heart. They are not shallow statements he says out of obligation. He sees the beauty in everything and everyone so when he tells you your eyes are beautiful; it is because they remind him of the stars that he reads about that decorate the desert nights in Kabul.

The guy that reads can teach you a thing or two. His conversations are rarely dull because he has such a wide perspective and he seeks to broaden it even further by seeking your view on a recent theme he uncovered in his current read. He may challenge your beliefs. And not in a way you approve. However, don't take it personally. It is just the intellect talking. He really means no harm.

The guy that reads can surprise you. He is just like the twists in the books he reads.He loves spontaneity. What do you expect from someone whose taste ranges from Chimamanda to Dan Brown? You might be sure you have him all figured out until one day he drops a bombshell. You'll hate him; because those surprises may not always be pleasing. But you'll love him. Because just like your favourite novel, you can't get enough of him.

But the most beautiful thing about the reader is he understands the writer. He won't chide you for those moments you zone out, lost in poetic thought,  because he believes that is a masterpiece in the making.
He doesn't belittle your little musings because he is aware you may not be as outspoken as he is. He knows your little scribbles are the only way you know to tell your story. He is not disturbed neither does he deem you weird. In fact it is these little eccentricities that make him fall deeper. So fall for him.

Date the guy that reads. He may not be perfect. He may come off as condescending. Date him, nonetheless. Because it is only the guy that reads that complements the girl that writes.

A.K.A The Intern

Fifteen unpublished drafts down the road.
I am overdue with this post, sorry. Hope I can write this to completion.
Thanks for allowing me to borrow 2 minutes of your life by reading this blog, by the way. Feel free to tell me what you think. And now for the post....

For those who have my number you probably noticed my WhatsApp status is something like A.K.A the intern[glasses icon] therefore we shall call today's post...

A.K.A THE INTERN *glasses icon*

I am one more papercut and awkward elevator moment with a member of staff away from dropping this degree and going to do something absurd like selling 100 bob tops by the roadside in Toi Market.(No disrespect to the people that keep we city females looking pretty)

Don't tell my mother. Or any other person who can claim a similar role in my life.

See I just landed myself a golden,no not golden because even gold cannot describe the magnitude of this chance. This is more of a once in a lifetime shot.
Life is more precious hence a suitable adjective.

But guess what this gargantuan opportunity got me doing? Photocopying documents. And stapling them.

That is my starting job description. Arranging documents.
That is what I just started doing 8 to 5, weekdays.

I am no environmentalist but me thinks if institutes stopped relying so much on hard copy there would be enough damn trees to solve global warming. Just saying.

That said, there is a lot more to bitch about. For example this new feeling; the way I keep asking everyone for basic things like where are the ladies? What do you do when the printer is out of paper?
And the worst, when a visitor asks a question and I'm just as blank as they are so I'm all blonde like 'umm... I don't know just wait someone will come help you.'

My working hours is another pet peeve. Last week I ceremoniously bid goodbye to all weekday plans. Goodbye Terrific Tuesday.

And the traffic on my way home at the end of the day is just annoying. Nairobi when will this end?

So many reasons to be annoyed. I guess because I had this glamorous misconception that my first day would be all fabulous and it would be like working with The Gladiators. Power suits and matching heels, a team I blend easily into and I'd be spending my days making people's problems disappear.

Not.

Could this be because I am no Olivia Pope?

But on a serious note, someone needs to stop watching too much TV. Really. These series need to stop being bought. Like last week.

But in the past 48 hours as the Intern what I've realized is it's never roses, rainbows and butterflies.
Particularly at the bottom.
And since clearly everyone starts from somewhere, I have no choice but to accept my reality and make the most of it. I mean butterflies don't just happen. It's a process i.e. egg then the larva then the pupa and voila the adult butterfly. (I passed science in primary school by the way:-D )

Therefore in humility,I accept my path.

Learn. Discover.Grow.

So those paper cuts I still don't know how to prevent them. Suggestions anybody?
But for those awkward elevator moments, well earphones blaring that sweet Afro House music can fix that all day every day.  And a smile. Definitely a smile. :-)

Make Up

Every day we wake up and we put our face on.
We walk around and we get compliments.
They don't see the huge black spots under our chins.
Neither do they see the black circles under our eyes.
And when we look at each other.
We see the same thing.
We know somewhere underneath are a bunch of blemishes.
We know the beauty is a facade;
Ain't no way our cheeks look so rosy naturally and neither is our hair so smooth and silky.
Our Afro-Caribbean kinks at least.
But nonetheless we cherish it.

It's sad though when it comes to character we see the opposite.
At least until one of us is gone...

It makes no sense to only see people's true perfection when they can't hear you speak of it.

Forget the flaws.

5FT 8 PLUS 4

And today I bought my first pair of 4 inch heels. 

Not 5 or 6 but 4 inches. Actually 4.5 inches. And given how medically the recommended maximum height is 3 inches I feel like an underage teen who successfully sneaked out and returned home after their first rave... Bad Ass.

And they are very pretty.

Now I know at this point one may wonder,  what is the big deal? I mean people rock 6 inch heels every other minute. So let me answer that query in one statement.

5ft 8.

Yes in words that reads FIVE FEET EIGHT INCHES.

For those more familiar with the metric system it translates to about 172 cm.

And when you are 5' 8", there are some things you learn to accept.

You learn to accept that no single pair of trousers will fit quite right. Lengthwise anyway. They will always barely be long enough. Thank Fashion for the crop trousers that only tall people can rock peacefully. Otherwise someone would have to consider menswear for day to day pantalons.

Another thing you have to accept is the fact that 5' 8 " means always being that awkward one towering over group photos. Sadly. Especially when you are slim. Add that to day to day walks with your friends and how you become the one they always look up to. Literally. Even if their 5' 3" selves wear those 6 inch works of art. You will still always be that tall one. And this you learn to accept.

And then you realise you definitely will always have the short end of the stick when it comes to potential suitors. In English it means that you will never get the satisfaction of having to stretch for a hug from your man. Because you are probably taller than the average guy and the tall brothers are hard to find. Really. Opposites attract so find them with the shorter sisters. And this you accept. Albeit sadly.

So after all this problems including how you have to bend so as not to hit your head when entering some rooms as well as how your legs never fit in most places so you rarely enjoy your bus ride home,  you'd think life would give you a break when it comes to footwear right?

Not.

It's already bad enough you have to accept the fact that your size 10 foot barely fit most decent flat shoes. You learn to accept that when all your female friends and acquaintances are looking all fab in their dresses and 6 inch platforms you will be that one looking good too. Just without the heel.  Why?

Well stability is one thing. That fear that you are barely stable in your natural height so you hate to imagine what may happen when you add 4 inches to your centre of gravity. That and the fact that everyday you go drooling over these cute heels but your dreams are cut short soon as you see the size.

When you are 5ft 8 there are some girly pleasures you will never get to enjoy. And you accept that... Until you meet a pair that changes your mind.... And possibly your life.

Agenda number 4 on my bucket list can officially be completed. And to all those people who kept asking me if I wear high heels. The answer now is hell yes. Rather high ones FYI.

And so introducing...Me. I am 5' 8 ". Proudly.

And I bought a pair of shoes that got me feeling all bad ass. So I am bad ass. And awesome.

And I am a tall black girl who wears heels. And I rock. :-)

P. S

The courage to talk about my problems at 5' 8" was inspired by this random article I discovered in my state of bad ass-ness.

And for all the bad ass black ladies who are 5ft 7 and above and be rocking them hot high heels.... RESPECT because you rock. :-*