I never stopped writing. Not for a second, I stopped posting, but I was never shy of holding pen and paper whenever my mind formed an opinion. I have this book, carry it with me all the time, and in it, I write it all down- anything and everything. That’s it, and that’s all there is to it. I just want to write. And I’ll admit two things chronologically:
Firstly, it mattered most to me that this half-assed “comeback post” be nothing like the last six blog posts I put up back then when I was 17. My father saw thblog then, and he called it “childish”. Hurt like a bitch. You’ve hit your small toe against the edge of a door, or, any piece of furniture, haven’t you? It hurt worse.
My mother knew about my blog because I kept to her laptop as I tried to create the blog.
“You’re always writing in this book. Why? Can I see? What are you writing?”
“No, mum”. *I should have said yes*
“Unaangalia laptop sana, utaharibika macho” (Swahili for- You stare at that laptop for hours, you’ll strain your eyes).
“What is a blog? Should I be worried? Is it something like the Facebook? ” Ah, she had this
annoying habit of putting “the” before Facebook. Haha.
“No, mum.” *I should have said yes*
“He’s Googling Selena Gomez,again” my little sister would chime. She always knows how to try to be funny.
Weeks later. She brings it up again.
“You had left your book lying there, so I read it, you’re a good writer David…the world should see this”.
Translation : I read your book anyway,because I’m your mother and you can’t hide stuff from me, and I loved it.
I smile a little every time I remember this convo.
*sigh* Mothers are that way.
I will not bitch about how the dad should have been more supportive – so not worth your read, I swear. Because he hadn’t seen that book, and he never will. But I did delete it. I forgot the password and it’s only recently that I respawned (new name, password and everything). And I’ll meet this tech guy some day, and he’ll help bring this blog to life by giving it a real domain name. I’m so passionate about sharing stories with the world, because if there’s one thing I learnt during my hiatus it’s that words form the most beautiful things, ‘they form the greatest arsenal‘ a friend once told me. Let’s call her H. She’d go on to say ‘they have life and soul, and they can break a person‘. I know, H is deep, ey? You should hear what she says about art.
*I digress. To all fellow Man. United and Real Madrid fans I’m so sorry she put great and arsenal in the same sentence.*
theeere go the Arsenal fans.
Secondly, I’ll narrate all that’s in my book. Haa. Hapo nimedanganya. Okay, let’s try this again, I’ll narrate 71 per-cent of whatever’s in that book. I can call my life anything but normal, meaning some stuff I say is going to sound exaggerated- but tell me this, have you never marveled at an exaggeration before? If your answer is still ‘no’, enda IMAX (go to IMAX).
I don’t know where these stories will take me, but I will post as much as I can for as long as I can. Ah, yes, which brings me to my next issue, WordPress will keep track of all who will visit my blog. The plan for these incoming posts is to get everyone in the world to read at least one of them. There’s billions of us. It’s a neat plan.
Now, wouldn’t it be awesome to “love” your retweet and share icons as much as you can every time you read a post you like (or don’t like). Read and re-read these posts by yourself, read them with your friends. To share is to be cool? I think so.
“…the world should see this”, remember?