I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano, a stage...

It’s Sunday, and I always loved Sundays. And today I went to my church. Being in and out of places, moving around a lot, I haven’t quite settled on a church I am, well… home, like CITAM Karen, and now I’m too far away from it. So it was wonderful being back. 

In the course of the week I ran into these Date a girl who writes and Date a guy who writes posts, which were very interesting reads. I’m a girl who writes, but I feel like that girl described there makes my writing seem mundane almost, her, she writes the world, and makes every uninteresting fact seem so story-worthy. Me, I’m not always sure what I want to say when I start writing ergo I end up saying a little bit of everything. I hope there are people out there who are like that too.

Of late I’m being forced out of this shell more and more, and this blog is finding its way into more histories than I want. Which definitely makes me, well, afraid. Of the eyes judging those things I’m saying. The ones looking hawk-eyedly for a clue into what I’m about. And I’m afraid that I’ll change my story. That I’ll change my voice, and write for a mass I now know exists. But the beauty of human beings is that they forget. So those of you who have this link in your histories, I pray you forget soon. Not in a bad way. I only want this one forgotten. Not your entire memories wiped clean. Unless you’re okay with that too. In which case, power to ya!

Nevertheless it got me thinking, just like this post I read and it got me thinking again, who’s watching your life? Who reads your blog? I don’t know if she still has the link but mum stumbled on this blog and reads it. Does it make me sift my thoughts, you bet it does! It helps that we have an ask-nothing-of-what-you-see arrangement too… but who else? 

I was always told everyone has secret disciples you know nothing about. I am a disciple of a few people who know nothing of it. It’s something I’m quite good at, because I have this strong urge to sit in a corner, walk on the street, or be anywhere really, and watch people all the time. It’s amazing what you’ll glean just by watching people.

This writing job is changing my life, in a good way, now I’ve learnt how to use fullstops and write short paragraphs. And use words I wouldn’t ordinarily use in normal conversation, which is now no longer normal thanks to the way I’ve had to write. But in a good way. I digress, moving on….

I used to have this job somewhere near Yaya Centre, and I lived near Adams Arcade, which meant I was one of the few Nairobians who could boast about walking to and from work, in twenty minutes. It was always fascinating to watch the world pass by, because when you have the mind of a writer, everything has a story. And I knew who I’d met where, what school bus should find me where unless I’m late and stuff like that. Also I learnt to walk and spend a whole day in heels, something I haven’t done in forever.

Anyway, I’d see them and fill up their lives in my head, but mostly I’d wonder what their real stories were like. Everybody’s got that thing weighing on their mind, I always wondered what it was when I ran into them. Some because we met almost every morning and evening, we began to say hi. And when I knew I was walking that road for the last day, I looked drank in everything like a sponge, and I almost, almost changed my mind about leaving. 

This weekend had a lot of sinusoidal curve tendencies, but this is the way of life. So to those watching without my knowledge, or with, I hope I do not begin to morph into some actor, or retreat into silence as I am wont to do among crowds. I kind of like this new me, this very talky-talky, very inspired me… Which was the point to begin with.