What is a heart?
Is it just the thing that pumps red liquid through our veins urging us to keep our legs moving & fueling our brains to keep everything in check?
A heart fails and we are dead, six feet under.
A mind fails & a heart still willingly fights, but only for a time, can a heart purpose to keep us alive until the things that choose to rely on the mind, fail it, in that time, do people realise why, with all my heart, holds greater promise than with all my mind, or brain – whatever, in that time do people see how passion burning in ones blood can be the ruder and sail that soars you through a sky of clouds, and that impulse can be the thing that punctures a hot air balloon, dooming it to sink to the bottom of the waters?
Why is it, so often, that we endeavour to use our mind when deciding on matters of the heart?
I wish it only to be true that I believe, entirely, that my heart is greater, stronger, smarter, truer, than my mind could ever be, to me, and my soul.
I hope that my destiny is only so kind to the mistakes my mind has made in clouding my vision, blurring up the messages my heart has so frequently fought to reveal to me, or else it’ll be that my life was not lived

I'm with Stupid


Why not,,,,

So I’ve been debating about the way I want to upload some of my older rambles/pieces/written works, and I realised there’s no point of over thinking it, so in the next few minutes/hours/days, hopefully, if I can be a little more disciplined with blogging, I’ll just publish everything that I have saved on here, and type up whats in notebooks.

Here they come


23 Promises Every Girl Should Make To Herself And Keep Forever

Originally posted on my life in words:

I loved this article written by Kylie McConville on Elite Daily and thought I would share.

23 Promises Every Girl Should Make To Herself And Keep Forever

When you are young, you learn a very important, very sexist lesson. You learn that things are different for boys and girls. You learn that things are different for men and women. You learn that things are different for moms and dads.

You learn that the rules are rewritten, the expectations redirected. You learn that there are good things and bad things that come with being a man; you learn that there are good and bad things that come with being a woman.

You learn that women are braver than what men, society and the global community often give them credit for. You learn that your body is viewed through different lenses by different people.

You learn that you’re expected to apologize, even when you’re not wrong, and you learn that sometimes you are…

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Recently my life has been a little on the edge, not in the dangerous ‘edgy’ (lol) way, but literally on the edge, waiting, about to tip, at that almost point, and I kept on being swayed back and forth, it looked like I could go either way. Having to deal with being in that middle point was exhausting, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Being at that point isn’t only difficult because of the tossing and turning, and tipping back and forth, it’s difficult because while you’re keeping your eyes on both ends, you have to make sure some part of you is attached to the ground and you don’t go floating up into the sky. I had these dreams about my life, two beautiful dreams that both looked like nothing could pull me down from them, so I started to reach up for them, but my hands can only go so far in two different directions, and I found my toes lifting off the ground as one pull got stronger than the other, then clouds started to shift changing the force of my pull taking me back to that mid point, where all of half of me was fully invested in each side, and I was stuck, stretched out like an elastic band waiting to snap. So I resigned myself to the situation and lay flaccid on that middle point, waiting to be blown in whatever direction the wind chose, because I was done tugging, I was done resisting, and pushing, I was done. Today I was pushed, slightly blown to one side, and I let myself be blown, the air is warm, and I feel like a feather floating down, trickling, being swayed by the winds, a little lost because well you know, feathers normally work together right? huddle up, gather the courage, then attack the air with determined slaps to propel themselves forward. Have I lost my wings? How is it that I don’t remember the sensation of flying? Tell me how does a caged bird stop losing its feathers?



M.I.A – quite the opposite actually

Soooooo, the laptop that I use, crashed!! Just up and decided she was done =( hence my unexplained absence, but I’ve decided to be more proactive about it. I’ll start writing them out, then I’ll type and post in abundance whenever I get the chance [idea credit goes to MaFlowers ;) ] But I’ve experienced quite a bit in the last few weeks. I’ve met some amazing people, I’ve done some pretty great things too, and I’m starting to reunite with some very special friends of mine, one by one. Life is pretty good. I’ll tell you more about all that when I get the chance, and they shall be titled accordingly =)

For now though, I just bumped into a movie (i really can’t find a better way to put that) called Into Your Eyes, and I think I liked it, I’m still trying to decide, the concept is pretty great,,,,in theory, and the execution isn’t pretty bad either, but maybe I’m indecisive about how i feel about it because I didn’t watch the whole thing, anyway, where i was trying to go with this random fact is,,,,i’m not quite sure now o.O watch the movie!! hahaha, and experience this confusion with me. 

Till the next time =)


Theatre: Relative Strangers, May 2-18 2014 @ Phoenix Theatre, Professional Centre – Parliament Road,

Originally posted on Nairobi Now :: arts, culture and events:

Relative Strangers
Relative Strangers, a comedy play written by Trevor Cowper and directed by Lydia Nyambura Gitachu.

Opening: May 2, 2014
Venue: Phoenix Theatre
Days and time: Wed. & Thur. 7 pm, Friday 7.30 pm & Sat. & Sun 6 pm
Tickets: Kshs 500

Runs until: May 18, 2014

The central character is George, successful, overworked architect, with a willful daughter Fiona, a talented but unfulfilled wife, Joanna, a secretary whose efficiency and loyalty cover a deeper passion, and an urbane business partner who recommends to George a therapeutic affair to take his mind off all his pressures. Along comes Gina , beautiful, clever, and on the face of it aggressively feminist,to fill this prescription.
But this play is no average Knockabout farce, and the complications that ensure raise thought-provoking questions on the easy assumptions we tend to make about modern manners. Where, for instance, does Gina’s feminism come into the…

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