The year 2016 was a bitch; I am not cursing, just saying that it was an equivalent of a ferocious female dog, to me anyway. To some lucky beings apparently 2016 was “their year”, you’d assume they must have won/made a lot of cash or gotten a great job/became successful but no, most of them just fell in love (laughs to self). Am not laughing at you who fell in love, it’s somewhat an achievement considering the fact that I am currently chronically single, yet I plan on getting married in the near future. Do continue reading.
School is fun (I am definitely being sarcastic), am not one of those lucky people who actually think that. When you’re studying actuarial science some people imagine you are the embodiment of mathematical genius (those who actually know what actuarial science is) because of this, the reaction you get from such people especially if you’re a female, is quite refreshing. (Skim through this sentence)Sometimes it could be offensive if someone is too shocked about it, implying disbelief in the capabilities of women as a whole but that’s another story. Within that year I had some irrefutable academic struggles. Getting meagre marks really breaks my heart (laughs to self), my heart got broken a lot. It was like life was trying to keep me humbled, no, it actually managed to keep me academically humbled and left me wishing I could read as much as the geniuses around me. Degree ni harambee, so I’ve heard but it isn’t working out for me. I am definitely not graduating with first class honours, not that am graduating any time soon. I would agree to an arranged marriage to some rich man right now, he would most likely be old and a little too wrinkled for my taste, then again, women empowerment exists and my mentality due to this demands that I become a successful entity, independent in every sense of the word. Oh, the struggles.
Then came the season of hard water, as if life was not hard enough due to school. I had just moved into some apartment, a bedsitter (for y’all rich kids who don’t know what that is,click here). The only available water was hard water, I couldn’t even drink it. Word of advice, when moving in anywhere don’t just check for the availability of water, do taste the water too. Soon my skin reacted to it and I got breakouts all over my face, this is when you hear someone complaining about one or two pimples and roll your eyes because your face has more than a hundred bumps; that was a bit of an exaggeration but you get the point. I had places to go to so I had to walk around with the bumps that had invaded my face looking like some foreign creature, not the good kind of foreign. I tried everything google deemed safe to put on the face be it fruit or vegetable. My mouth even had to share avocado and eggs with my face, tragic. I persisted but alas (I actually knew someone called Alas, I find it amusing but that’s irrelevant), nothing worked. Not knowing whether people are looking at you because of the beautiful and fabulous being that you are (dramatic?) or because of the grotesque nature of the unnatural things that reside on your face is hard. Then there are those random inconsiderate f**kers, I mean people, who think it is okay to talk to you about what’s on your face or even reach out to touch, frustrating (you probably can’t relate, living in your bubble of perfect skin and all). It eventually got better after the scars, how that happened – is another story am no story-teller ~Lil Wayne voice. I love that line, am actually a story-teller; a narrator of some sort. Just recently realized that I am not much of a writer, too sad, I’ll just blame that on 2016 as well.
The awakening, I realized just how important it is to have a side hustle especially since my morals and principles are rigid (my mama raised me well) so common shortcuts aren’t an option; oh, sponsors. Getting a part-time job isn’t easy when you’re in your youth in Kenya and still in school, I have tried and considering how broke I was, I should have come up with a great business idea by now. However, even with productive hobbies like sewing, crocheting, writing (mostly poetry), doing hair and other old people stuff that am good at, I still have zero businesses that I can claim as my own. If not for the fact that am still under my mother’s roof I’d probably go hungry a lot and wouldn’t have internet bundles to sustain my social media needs. Yeah, the year of being too broke to buy myself an unnecessary number of commodities is over, has been over and will remain over (someone please hire me…. No? Okay). How could I forget this, I tried to volunteer to a cause that mattered to me like most decent human beings do but was rejected, ati lazima niwe na a specific type of insurance and give some amount of cash as donation. I didn’t want to bother anyone about the cash so I just accepted my situation. Low blow 2016, low blow.
Basically, the previous year was terrible and so was the one before it. I didn’t expect much from them anyway unlike this year so am hoping for the best but I’ll probably suffer a bit, life just likes kicking some of us. I’ll bore you with another writing next Sunday, maybe I’ll get rich or fall in love by then, who knows? Heard 2017 is the year of possibilities. Then again, people say that about each year.