Its been so bloody long since I posted that my very page looks foreign to me! Nonetheless here I am, rested from a brutal CAT, and preparing for class tomorrow and suffering the most ignominious writing block EVER! After all that hype of being able to post after that exam.... Maybe its because my brain is too full of med stuff, maybe its because my heart feels nothing right now, or maybe its because I've become boring, no inspiration... Now I'm truly depressed. Let me just publish this and sleep. Sadness threatens to engulf me. :( :( :(  

Abby 

busy, busy,busy!

 Yes, at the moment
, busy reading for an exam, but will definately be back soon! Haven't forgotten you! Now back to those damn books!

A THOUSAND WORDS

This week I have been hooked, nay, mesmerized, nay, enthralled by these two blogs:

• mutuamatheka.wordpress.com 
• stevekitots. wordpress.com 

These guys are amazing photographers, so if you are a photo fan, please, please, please visit them as soon as you can! And to nudge you faster, a little preview. I've mixed both their pics but all are really good! Come on! Visit! Visit! Visit! Click! Click! Click! Plus Mutua also has his own website which I'm busy ogling at right now... :)

Wedding dresses!

Sigh, yes I have a little obsession: staring at wedding dresses! :) I always check out those at Enka Rasha whenever I can! Now here are some pics!

Yes, Black!

These are some that really blew me away. Clearly am into tight fitting bodices, I adore them! In case I have that lucky chance of wearing one, hope I'll have the figure for it!

A DIFFERENT MIND

I had an uncle who used to stay with my grandmother (his mom) upcountry back in the day. Those days, going upcountry was an adventure in itself!  Boarding the train second class with food in tins till Kisumu, the rackety bus ride all the way to Jera and the final drive to my grandmother’s arms, my grandfather’s eccentrics and adventures with all the relatives in the boma (somehow all people in your boma and all neighbouring bomas were your relaz).

Back to my uncle, he used to scare us shitless and being the tactless children we were we would always run away from him the moment we saw him. Because we didn’t understand him, he didn’t fit the normal adult mould that we were used to. Always randomly walking about, mumbling to himself, sometimes being a nuisance to grandma and he wouldn’t offer us any goodies ( Those days it was absolutely mandatory for an adult to offer us some “tamu-tamus” .Kwani what else were we there for but to be spoilt silly?)

You see, my uncle Thomas was mentally challenged, something I just couldn’t grasp at the time. Of course as I grew older I became sensitized and well aware of the fact. However my grandmother loved him. She loved him to the point of ensuring he got his own house and had a wife to take care of him. Plus am positive that in his lucid moments he loved her too, was closest to her and was probably grateful for all that she did. My uncle passed away a few years back and it’s only recently that I started trying to analyse his condition, using my faulty memory and word of mouth (my father).  

 According to my dad he was okay the first few years of his life, just a bit withdrawn sometimes. Then somewhere in primary he started having fits in school. They became frequent and unpredictable, which I think must have caused neural damage. So he became withdrawn and slowly his education wasn’t that much prioritized. Back then there wasn’t much information on epilepsy management and being “different” was therefore disadvantageous to anyone. So Tom had the unlucky childhood of being picked on by peers, kind of shunned by his brothers and tolerated by his father. I’m not saying they didn’t love him; they just didn’t understand it and know how to deal with it. His mother had the right idea: love and acceptance, therefore helping him live a normal life as much as possible. My dad always says if he had been borne at this day and age, he probably would have heard a much better life, because of the availability of more resources, both monetary and medical.

I recently found out one of my first cousins, a boy, is autistic. Autism is strongly suspected to be genetic. His mom had to leave her job to take care of him, (none of their house-helps could handle him). With the amount of knowledge available in this era, my aunt is better placed to take care of him with positive results. Thank God her husband is supportive and I hear my cousin is doing well, of course there are good days and bad days, but they take it one day at a time. I hope to see him soon.

Autism has always interested me, even before I knew of its involvement in my family. Autism is a disorder of neural development characterized by impaired social interaction and communication, and by restricted and repetitive behaviour. The signs usually present before the child turns three. Early intervention can help autistic children gain self-care, social and communication skills. Since there is no cure (because its cause and mechanism is still not really understood), most parents and caregivers rely on nutritional management. They need a gluten and casein free diet to calm their hyper activeness. A calmer child is then able to gain more in social integration and education. For more information see www.autismsocietyofkenya.org 

With the medical degree that I’m working hard towards, am hoping it will open doors for me to be able to undertake in autism research. To be able to enter a different world that I’m not used to. Where people mistake withdrawal as aloofness, plunging autistic children in a lonelier world than they need to be in. All I ask for is a chance to break through.

KENYANS FOR KENYA

You know what to do. Donate! MPESA... Pay bill to 111111. A donation of sh.250 will feed a family of 6. You know what to do. Save a life.

OF RAEVS AND WIFE MATERIALS

I went out this week. Twice. I think I’m taking a rest for now. Why? I’m tired. Tired of the alcohol (no more shots and Black Ice). Tired of the achy feet. Tired of the yucky men. Tired of the invasion of my personal space. Actually I think that’s my main problem. INVASION OF PERSONAL SPACE. When you drink, we all know your inhibitions are lowered, reflexes slowed and movements and speech slurred. So whenever I’m drunk the number of people who keep touching me and forcing me to dance obviously exponentially increases. Reason? I can’t think fast enough to say no, unfortunately. The next day, all I’ll ask is what was I thinking? Then I’ll do my utmost best to rub them off me, physically, mentally and emotionally.

However what made me dig my heels in was what happened this Saturday night- after an idiot followed me all round forcing me to dance with him every two seconds to the point I sat down most of the time. (I sat down!!! Me!! The one who can dance all night long!!!) Yeah I was that disgusted. I used to wonder how prostitutes or gold diggers or any woman can sleep with someone whom they don’t love. How can they tolerate their touch, withstand their kisses? I finally got my answer. It’s detachment. You let them have your body as your mind and soul slowly detach themselves from it. Then you all come back together after the assault where your body feels used, your soul cries and your mind soothes. If you practise it long enough, your soul may become indifferent and your mind methodical as it goes through the routine of cleansing your body. I was at the first stage though so I can still reverse that shit. It was totally disgusting. My body felt so betrayed, like I hadn’t done enough to protect it, and it was right. Right to blame me for what happened. When did the Diana stop being the narcissistic bitch that she always is? I was and still am sorry. Promised my body that I would do my best to protect it. As for that idiot, I don’t know if I can look him in the eye without wanting to slap him. But lesson has been learnt: that sometimes it’s my happiness and well-being is all that matters. And peace and unity with the three spheres of my life is very important. It’s the only way I’ll function at 100% or thereabout.

For all those wondering, yes I’m narcissistic (aren’t most bloggists?) I love myself. I know I have faults but I love me more because of that. Don’t worry, I am not blind to correction, I shall take them graciously or ungraciously depending on who you are. ;) However I adore spoiling myself, because I don’t believe in waiting for someone else to make you happy or give you what you desire. Do it yourself and make yourself happy. That person may never materialise. I also believe I deserve the best. Nothing but. It could possibly stem from the fact that I’m a Daddy’s girl who knows that she’s worth something. I’m worth a hell lot, damn it! Believe that!

Now that I’m taking a break from raeving, I wonder if I’ll be considered wife material. Yes, wife material. Apparently if you adore your liquor, the short tight dresses and partying all night long, you’re more likely to be labelled a temporary rather than a permanent. A temporary is one you can date just coz she knows how to have great time and you’ll probably gain crazy points with your buddies because she’s probably eye candy. A permanent is basically who you’re going to take to your mother, you know who I’m talking about, the modest, quiessential, kitchen lover and her epitome of fun is maybe a private picnic somewhere. Now the problem with these definitions is that they’re too narrow minded, exactly like some men’s mindsets. Most women actually blend in with both definitions, and yet people always want to limit you to one corner, which is boring. The world may be black and white but with a lot of grey in between. Don’t you forget that. J  

I don’t really mind where most people, both boys and girls , place me (probably as a temporary) so long as I know where I am. I don’t deny I love a good party now and then but I’d also be blown away if someone planned a quiet romantic set up for two. I love looking good (a self-confidence booster) but I wouldn’t mind getting down and dirty sometimes. I adore kids too, though most people wouldn’t believe it. And yes you can’t starve in my house neither would you live in a dirty house, all without a house-help, my mother after all, raised me right. When am partying know that I read as hard as I party, no sideshow is going to keep me from my initial goal- the golden nameplate Dr. Diana Abuodha

Of course no one would ever know all this at first glance when you see me dancing on the dance floor, with my drink high up in the air laughing with my friends. Don’t judge a book by its cover my friends, read the first few chapters to begin forming your opinion.

POST...FINALLY!

I know, I know, I know, its been too long! I haven’t called to check up on you. I haven’t spent quality time with you and you missed me! (Course you did, it’s me!!!)  If you are a radio geek you probably know that those sentences up there are from that Airtel advert. She sounds like a girl who’s cheekily complaining to her boyfriend (all giggles and smiles).  Totally better than the idea of a whinny nagging girlfriend. All you’ll get is the metaphorical rolling of eyes to the back of the head all the way to the neck.  Yeah, I’m conversant with guy code. ;-)

Amy Winehouse died this weekend. Sad. Especially when you drive yourself to your own grave. And at the same time some mad man decides that people no longer deserve to live. How you literally kill children in cold blood and feel nothing but satisfaction is beyond me. I bet hearing him speak in court and listen to his “justifications” and ideology will send chills to many people’s spines. Say a prayer or two for Norway. What’s even worse is how he used the trusting nature of children as his method of gathering as many children as possible round him. (He was dressed as a policeman). The world can harbour scary characters. I think the whole world was so shocked that it was one of Norway’s own that pulled the terror attack, considering the Islamist terrorist record, so he’s been called a madman. Apparently the method to his madness can be found on the internet, if you search diligently enough.

Back to Amy Winehouse, in 2006 when she first came out, everyone was buzzing around with her Smash hit ‘Rehab’ and boy did she live according to the lyrics! Personally I adored her strong sultry voice that used to emanate from the radio, from Rehab, to Back to Black, and I’m no Good. When you finally saw the owner of that voice the first thing you would notice was the anorexic figure inside somewhat loosely fitting clothes. And she never hid her body from the public, you’d watch the video and see her stick-like legs on the bed, her bony arms supporting her and that would always freak me out. However with that voice and amazing talent, the world tends to overlook some things, including her drug and alcohol abuse, which was no secret. Now she’s gone, how? Found dead in her apartment due to suspected alcoholic overindulgence.  As expected, her album is back on the charts and is selling like hot cakes. I know her family really tried to get her to quit and get her on the straight and narrow, and she was in numerous rehabs but I wish the world had just pushed a little bit more to discourage her indulgent ways. Still rest in peace Amy. You shall be missed.