A girl with a love for books. Nothing much πŸ“”πŸ“•πŸ“™πŸ“šπŸ“‘

There’s this newly opened Text Book Centre just down the block. I think of how they had a grand entrance , with loud music and that tall colorful balloon man that swings in the wind, and i just smile. The bright colors and lighting is something you actually notice from afar. Most times, i pass by there, actually not most times, all the times and i marvel at the books displayed.

Gives me the chillsπŸ˜πŸ˜‚

So the other day, i decided to pass by Text Book Centre from work and get a closer glance. Thing is, i just love books, their sight calms my soul. Not to forget, that day had been sullen for me, so i needed to forget about it, so what would the sight of books not cure?

Before i delve, i want to mention that this place where the textbook centre is now at, used to be a Cafe Deli. I once went here and was bought a blueberry cake that i went to eat from the comfort of the office. I don’t recall much about it, but one thing i can’t forget is the bright chandelier that hang at the centre of the room, stealing the show. That must be the only thing i remember about it. So, see? There is just something about good lighting that does a number on someone. You are more likely to remember bright colored stuff, more than anything else in a room.

So, back to my story. I sanitized, had my bag checked by the guard and i went in, feeling all giddy and excited. Books will be the end of me. *Oh, if you want to ever get me a present, be assured that a book will be the best* you know, followed by crocs.
Anyway all i did was touch the books and all other stationeries in there. Admiring and all that, the usual, nothing out of the ordinary.

Dan Brown, must have been it for me😭❀
Just look at all these pretty booksπŸ™†πŸ˜­ yikes!!

And that is the end of my storyπŸ˜‚ yea i know, not much. Just wanted to share with you this new place, and some good nice phone photos i took, for the occasion. I call it being in character πŸ˜‚, you know, playing the part!

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Don’t be long, where you don’t belong.

I love the views from up here. Makes me feel like I’m up on a pedestal, watching things go on below. The fresh air from the open window is so soothing. This is the director’s office. When the secretary called me, ” Hi Joy, could you please go in the director’s place and hold it up for me before i come ?” I had not thought about it twice. I quickly unplug my phone from charging, take my handkerchief and head there. The door to his office has always felt so heavy for me to push and i have always held a grudge against it.* Nothing serious though*. I was expecting to walk into the usual executive office, sit behind his orthopaedic chair, behind the well arranged table, and behind me, iconic views. My jaw almost dropped when i walked in, there was no table, no orthopaedic chair that i wanted to so swing around from. Books were huddled up on the black sofa just by the door, at the other corner, was a small brown table with his laptop, laptop bag, and two luminarc used tea cups. They must be doing some renovation in here. I put my jaw back in place and i smile knowingly when my eyes land on the hour glass.

It has always fascinated me and i usually take the opportunity of holding it in my hands just to see the white sand-ish stuff fall through. It must be my favourite feature in this office. I pull a chair by the window, plug my phone to charge, place the hour glass by the window and i lie on the wooden surface, marvelling at it, like a kid watching you unwrap their favorite candy and my inside warms up instantly. At that moment, it flashes in my mind of how I’ve been growing into this place and how hard it will be when i leave. I think of the good times i have had, and i tell myself that the memories are what i will take with me. I think of how the director had faith in me, enough to recommend me to some other organization that he thinks will give me room for growth, and it makes me understand that he prolly knows all too well, the concept of not staying for too long, where you don’t belong.

I think of how Mr. Mutiso knows so much history and generally almost everything. Makes me think that even if you haven’t met him, he could still know so much about you, gives me the feels of a Sherlock Holmes. I think of Mr. Okidi and how he says “Joyce, just by looking at you, you are a soft and polite person who can’t hurt a fly, but the memes you post are so brutal and savage” as we both laugh. I laugh cause i know i hold and run the entertainment department of memes for my contacts. They deserve some good laughter. I think of how Leah is never worried about anything, she doesn’t give two shits about stuff, living her own life, doing things at her own pace. I think of Madam Oyuwa and how she rarely talks, she’s always so silent that you can’t tell if she is in the office or not. I think of how everyone got used to calling me Joy, that when they hear about my name being Joyce, they ask which is which. But these guys have played quite a good deal in my career development, the whole lot of even those i haven’t had a chance of mentioning.

I can tell you that trusting the process and being ferocious and rooted in achieving your goals, being disciplined while at it, really opens doors for you. Times will be there when you get in that comfort zone, become complacent, knowing very well that you need to keep on moving, but you feel like you don’t have the energy nor motivation.
You will doubt yourself, feel like giving up, complain of how things seem not to be adding up as you would want them to, but i can openly tell you like I’ve always done, that when the universe conspires and the stars align for you, you will feel it deep down in your bones and you will definitely see how things are taking a different route in your life. Just remember, don’t be long, where you don’t belong!

Disarmed charm.

The drink is not working it’s way around my system like it should. I thought it would give me feelings of wanting to swing from the chandelier at the middle of the room like it does to Sia, but apparently, that is not the case. It just tells me to laugh at the silliest of things. Oh! Wait! That is because it is a small cold 350ml sprite soda. Well, that explains why I’m not drunk. Might be the cold feeling of it massaging my throat that had me tripping.

Uhm, well…….

I sadly start laughing at myself. Laughing that I’m a girl who still believes in dragons, magic, mermaids and a happily ever after love life too.
I laugh while belching, and apologize to invisible people.
I laugh at how i thought the GOT pentalogy costs,Β  cause they must be insane for such outrageous amounts on those books I’m dying to lay my hands on.
I laugh at how at my age, crying because of some things, should not be it.
I laugh at the big hand bag i carry, which mind you is a life saver, until my shoulder is hurting from carrying all the unnecessarily necessary stuff.
I laugh at how i wake up in the middle of the night to massacre mosquitoes that hold music festivals in my ear.
I laugh at how hard i love until it hurts sometimes.
I laugh at how my lowest of lows have taught me to be emotionally and psychologically independent.
I laugh at how people have me walking on thin ice because they claim I’m too small for my age, thinking they can manipulate me.
I laugh at how i have myself walking on eggshells by expecting too much.

I laugh at how i didn’t realize that I had worn my mask wrongly this morning.
But most importantly, i laugh at how much i don’t give a fuck about so many things, these days. I mean i still care, but you get my point, right?( try itπŸ˜‰ it saves you a lot of bullshit)

A long story, cut short.

She was a good story teller, still is. Whenever we’d reopen school, we all would gather around her, to hear her stories. But it was and still is, her laughter for me. She is the type that you will hear laughing so heartily, and without knowing what she is laughing about, you are also laughing. Laughing because she is laughing too. Contagious i tell you!

Her name is Renee, a sobriquet she had in highschool, still does, and prolly had before we got to know her . Now i can tell you for free in highschool, she didn’t have the curves that she has now, curves that leave heads turning and jaws dropping. I mean, add a bubbly personality to that?! Nothing but greatness! She doesn’t talk a lot, but so does everyone, unless you are with those people that you want to bring it out on, feel me? When i say she doesn’t talk a lot, but does so in front of people she really wants to, it is because through her epic story telling, is how we all came to find out about JB.

Picture this, you’ve never heard about a person or something, but from the way they are described, often talked about, you live with a mental picture of who they are, what they look like and all that? That is it with me and JB.
We’ve seen their letters, seen them together, pictured them together.

Renee, i can tell you that through you, JB forever lives on. I say this because every time i hear of JB, or when i learnt that he had passed, the first thing that came to mind was, “Yule JB wa Renee?” I could feel the pain that connects you to someone you don’t know, but they live in, and through someone you know. I don’t know if you’ve felt or experienced it, but it exists.

JB, as you rest in eternal peace with the angels, how about you know that we can already feel your presence? Because to me, you will always be JB wa Renee, as that is how i first came to know you and it ingrained itself in my mind.

Rest in peace, JB.

This is to all mails that came your way from our class, the memories you built and left behind that will always have your loved ones smile in between breaking down, the sorrow that will always open up wounds, the decanters that will be emptied in attempts to push the hard sad times, the long healing process that will ensue, making life feel like it has come to an impasse, to the thin ice your loved ones will feel like they are walking on before they are ready to start nodding and yessing to life again. Grief is wild and stubborn, it won’t be easy for anyone who knew you.

And to the audacity of death to pull many a tears from your loved ones, salving the wounds won’t be easy, but somewhere along those lines, as we curse death for snatching you, it only teaches the need to appreciate ourselves and others, while we are still alive, for no one knows when they will be having their last moments, breathing their last or even hugging for their last time.

So when you hug someone, do it a bit tighter, ,when you love, do it like there’s no tomorrow, when you say something, make sure you mean it, if you promise something, fulfill it.

Never have i ever.

When yesterday in the morning my aunt asked me if i know how to tie a tie as i prepared my cousin for school, i blatantly said a flat out no. Funny thing, somewhere in my SD card, among the 30k plus photos, i have some related to tying a tie, all from Pinterest.

All my 4 years in highschool, Abigael did my tie for me. Abigael, was the girl who sat behind me, the girl who had some long and charcoal black thick hair, pretty good at math and some weird facial expressions that made you break all out due to laughter. She was my person, when it came to my tie. She would do it so well and now that I’m thinking of it, i will definitely get her something good once we meet, one of these good days, (after she teaches me the secret behind her awesome skill of course.) I just loved how she would make my tie.

She well knew of the intimacy she had with my ties, doing them just like i loved.

As i stood on the podium, on Fridays and Mondays, telling the other students of how i expected maximum cooperation from them during that week, shoes shining so bright from some good polishing, skirt and blouse well ironed, i felt like i was untouchable, like i could conquer the world just from how sharp i always looked.

So when my aunt asked me about it, my mind drifted to Abigael, the tie tier. Also to how crazy it might sound that at my age, i don’t know how to tie one?!
So, to Abigael my tie tier, i pray the stars align for you and that the universe brings you the best it has to offer.
I mean, to date , never have i ever bothered learning how to do it, but the times that she stepped up for me, i am so contented.

A Promised Land, by Obama

One hell of a read! Highly recommend!

Reading the preliminary pages of the promised land by Obama, makes me feel like i know the white house so well,  like if i was to go there, i can legit tell you where every room is. I love how Craig and the entire family saw Michelle as one hell of a tough lady who would never get married because she was too serious that no guy would keep up with her. Then came Obama, who liked every single thing about her, loving how she always kept him on his toes and challenged him in every step. The way he had a strong team of people who believed in him and stuck by him through every step.

There’s this time when he held a last meeting with his campaign team to determine if he would really run for the presidential spot and Michelle asked him one question, just one, ” there are so many people going all out for this, so what makes you any different Barack?” 

And this question shook him and the team up. It gave him a new approach to what he was really getting into. And when he replied that all he wanted was to make all those kids who are taken to be different due to race issues, to just believe that their horizons can be expanded, that there is still hope, that is exactly when Michelle knew that he was ready.
(The book gives off a touch of American politics simplified.)

Now, i need to get back to the reading. Adios!🚢

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