PPK Tuesdays: 1, 2, Step – There’s the Stereotype

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Your weekly dose of PPK Tuesdays, a day late though! *hides*!

Okay, so maybe I was listening to Ciara’s 1, 2, Step when I started writing this. But truth is, stereotyping is so easy. As easy as 1, 2, 3… Especially when there’s facts to back it up.

So anyway, I had a conversation with my mum this morning. Something along the lines of a conversation she might or might not have had 30+ years when she might or might not have contemplated marrying a white boy. Only this time around, it was about a Kikuyu boy who might or might not have been buzzing around my sick bed.

“Ríu-rí, arúme agíkúyú ní-úí ní ta matakoragwo mena bata na mútumia wona ní-aingíra nyúmba?”(Something to the effect that Kikuyu men only really value and cherish a woman during the chase, but once she is a wife, and mother, the romance is gone.)

I laughed, and told her, “You know, even during the chase a Kikuyu, Embu or Meru man still does not value his woman. Otherwise, they’d keep promises, arrive at dates on time, and treat their women kind.”

“So why do you girls still marry men who treat you like that?” Mum demanded to know.

“Oh, I don’t know, mum.” I have definitely had my share of ‘not-so-good’ men. And true, the worst have been Kikuyu, Embu or Meru. But I really don’t think it’s all about the men. In the same breath I hope there’s a good man out there who just happens to be a Kikuyu, Embu or Meru man. And I think that there might be some men just as bad as the stereotype who are neither Kikuyu, nor Embu, nor Meru. God, I hope I am right to hope that that is the case!

My point is that as easy as it is to drop all the men into one basket, it’s also about how a girl views herself, how much value she tags herself with. A man will definitely treat you only as bad as you allow him to treat you.

If from the beginning you have shown him that you will let him break promises, keep you waiting, stand you up, talk to you abusively, push you, hit you… then that’s how he will treat you always. Don’t expect him to change.

On the other hand, if you hold yourself up with dignity (which does not at all mean that you should be stuck-up no fun bitch), then your man will treat you with dignity. If you demand that he keeps time, keeps promises, and you do so yourself, he’ll know the game plan. And if he deviates blatantly from the code of respect, you should value yourself enough to point it out and walk away sooner rather than later when there is already too much at stake.

So I guess the end of the conversation with my mum dropped the ball at the girl’s court. How do you want to be treated? Because he will live up to the Stereotype if you let him.

That said, here’s a recap of last week’s Ezine:

Every Word is still at Part One. We apologise for the delay.
Social Media Monitoring – Business & Internet with Marvin Tumbo
Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen – Reading Room with Gideon Chumo
Sharon’s Story – Chronic City with Nyambura Kiarie
Smile – Poetry with @IvoryCherub

While we Live, Let us Live – Society & Identity with @Sheblossoms
The Miscarriage – Paper Mache with @Soul_fool

So, here’s to a great, creative, blessed week!

*Over & Out*

Its Mobile!

Yippee!!

This is my first post using WordPress for Android!

And its exciting! Why? Because I get to be able to post from wherever. Especially nowadays when the time to make posts imekosekana kabisa. Huh!

And to those dissing the “idieot”, too bad for u! Am using it n am liking it!!

The only problem I can see is that now so so many people have it mpaka now its becoming “Kenya uniform”! As in even people who work in shambaz, whose hands can do God knows what to the sweet nice screens! Gosh! (No offense!)

Anyway, to wrap things up, I just wanna thank all who have been faithfully following my blog, my craziness, my randomness, being real and straight with me on everything. I am forever greatful. I will keep making posts here that challenge your minds as well as mine. And also just have random posts that (may) mmake you laugh or cry or whatever you feel like doing. Blessed be.

To all who are Bloggers in Kenya, I challenge you to join the Bloggers Association of Kenya (BAKE) and make our local content count!

*Over & Out*

JOLIEA

PPK Tuesdays: Stalker Alert!

I have a stalker. Yup, I do. I used to think stalkers were something that only the rich and famous could suffer from. And to be absolutely honest, I was not very sure why the rich and famous made such a big deal about it. Until I got my very own special stalker.

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This Internet. And the mobile telephony. I tell you, technology has brought a whole new level to trouble.

See my work for a publishing house places me at the forefront of all contact between the public online and the company. I deal with inquiry emails, submission emails, angry emails, happy emails, weird emails; and I have to respond to all with professional courtesy and polite patience. PR, you see.

I also handle said company’s social media content. So I am on FacebookTwitter, wherever else as a brand advocate. And this brings me in touch, well virtual online touch, with lots of people, some not so nice people, and a whole lot of crazy ‘should-be-locked-up-and-key-thrown-away’ people.

I am a writer, to be more precise a blogger. That separate from my job. This compounds the privacy issue. For a long while, I have tried to keep my personal life very very private. I don’t even let people know where I live. I know, crazy right? Dude, you are a blogger, writer, your job is to let people know what you think and where you’ve been. Still, I try really hard to separate my writing/blogging persona from the real me, so I can protect my privacy to a certain degree.

But apparently, I have not been able to protect my privacy too well. So this dude decided to change our relationship from the professional editor and writer status, to god-knows-what. And to make things really bad, he has my phone number, email, facebook, twitter…

At first, he would just send me text messages at odd times. Then he went through the call-me-for-no-apparent-reason-at-really-bad-times-of-the-day. Then he’d send me weird emails, like we were absolute ‘best friends forever’.

I got to tell you there’s a whole wide chasm between friendly and stalking friendly. See, you meet someone, online or live-live, and you like them, you don’t get miffed if they call you.  But there’s common courtesy even then. You don’t call people after work hours unless they are friends. You don’t call people after 9pm unless they are family and family friendly. You don’t call people who are not your friends to find out where they are going for the weekend and with whom!

So I stopped taking the calls. He started texting me. Same same. After a while, I blocked his number.

He switched to Facebook & Twitter, and I blocked him there as well. So now, he has switched to using my job to get at me.

One of my weekly tasks is to write and send out the Writers’ Blog. As you may know the Writers’ Blog is fed by reader content. So guess what’s happening now. Dude is now writing stories that feature me as the protagonist, or antagonist.

A while back, he raped and killed a character named after me. Now, he is romancing a character named after me.

It occurs to me that this man is a likeable fellow, seeing that he has friends, some whom even I know. I don’t like him, and I have never met him!

It also occurs to me that this man is probably usually a decent rational man. So what the hell is he doing on crazy lane?! Does he even know that he crossed over?

So I decided to spend a few minutes looking up the different types of stalkers. Here’s what I came up with:

The Erotomaniac: This kind of stalker believes that he is in love with you. To show his keen interest, he keeps calling you, dropping by, writing e-mails, doing unsolicited errands “on your behalf”, talking to your friends, co-workers, and family, and, in general, making himself available at all times. The erotomaniac feels free to make for you legal, financial, and emotional decisions and to commit you without your express consent or even knowledge. The erotomaniac intrudes on your privacy, does not respect your express wishes and personal boundaries and ignores your emotions, needs, and preferences. To him – or her – “love” means enmeshment and clinging coupled with an overpowering separation anxiety (fear of being abandoned). He or she may even force himself (or herself) upon you sexually.

 

The Narcissist: Feels entitled to your time, attention, admiration, and resources. Interprets every rejection as an act of aggression which leads to a narcissistic injury.  Reacts with sustained rage and vindictiveness. Can turn violent because he feels omnipotent and immune to the consequences of his actions.

The Psychopath (Antisocial): Psychopaths regard other people as objects to be manipulated and instruments of gratification and utility. They have no discernible conscience, are devoid of empathy and find it difficult to perceive other people’s nonverbal cues, needs, emotions, and preferences. Consequently, the psychopath rejects other people’s rights and his commensurate obligations. He is impulsive, reckless, irresponsible and unable to postpone gratification. He often rationalises his behaviour showing an utter absence of remorse for hurting or defrauding others.

The psychopath fails to comply with social norms. Hence the criminal acts, the deceitfulness and identity theft, the use of aliases, the constant lying, and the conning of even his nearest and dearest for gain or pleasure. Many psychopaths are outright bullies.

There’s different ways to deal with stalkers. You can find a few on this site which I found to be very informative. But I think the important issue here is: Do your actions make you fall in any of the above categories?

Just so you know, stalking is a crime, stalkers are criminals.

In this New Age Media era, what is the acceptable code of conduct on the email, phone or social media?

And now to last week’s ezine:

Every Word Part One – Creekside Princess Episode 4

Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell – @Chiira in the Office

The Weave : Wonder or Worry – Beautiful Inside Out with Imani Opar

This is Where I am – Society & Identity With Brenda Angwenyi

20th March 1970 – The IvoryPunk’s Twilight Zone

Nothing to Write Home About – Paper Mache with @Soul_Fool

We hope that you will have a wonderful and creative week!

The Princess Project (K) Team.

 

KENYA NI YETU!!!

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WHOA!!!

I am writing again! And I have no clue what to tell ya’ll. Point is, I have been busy. Oh so busy. Its raining outside and I chose to stick around in the office as I let the time pass by and the rain and traffic subside. We all know what Nairobi rain makes our drivers do!! Eesh!

Anywho, there is something that has been on my mind for a while now. I am sick and tired of watching news nowadays. Yeah, I know, I’m not the only one. But don’t we have a say as to what is newsworthy? Nowadays even tv stations have the audacity to show us something then pose the question”was that newsworthy?” NKT!! Malenge wao!

Mara its Ocampo this, mara its the Hague six that… I AM TIRED!! Then I hear they want to sijui defer the ruling or whatever. Are they freaking serious? People have been languishing in IDP camps for upto 5 years now and this is what they come up with? All this back and forth and hurling of insults at one another…

KENYANS WAKE THE EFF UP!!!!!

I swear if I had the machinery I would beat up every freaking kenyan and tell them to grow the eff up. I am so so pissed off at ourselves. We continue making the same stupid ay hole mistakes over and over again like a bunch of nitwits and then come round and ngwe ngwe “naomba serikali”. Puh! Bagaz!

All ye reading, it is on YOU to go out there and make a difference. Enough talk. Enough blogging. Unless we speak of it, and do it, we shall never see it come to pass. We can make a difference. Why do we always say we want change yet we do nothing about it? Its upon us to make the change we want to see.

KENYA NI YETU!!!!!!!!

Kenya Ni Yetu

Photo courtesy of: @Truthslinger

*Over & Out*

PPK Tuesdays: Giving Up My Halo

Written by Sheblossoms

My friends always complain that I tell them about the horror of a bad Lupus episode after the fact rather than during. What’s the point of dragging you into my personal twilight zone when you could be busy working and making money to take me for that coffee, or to buy me that really cool laptop I want? Tehee! Expensive bitch friend from hell. Besides, I spent 3/4 of the time on the floor puking my guts out because I reacted badly to the meds. You really don’t want to be puking when you have pneumonia. ‘Pain’ doesn’t quite cover it.

One of the horrors of long distance love, is that sometimes you are in an ‘God I don’t want to die alone’ moment, and you realize that although you have everyone else around you; some even unwanted, the one person whom you’d want to be next to you right then, is a few hundred kilometers away. And then there’s the usual me who sometimes wakes up and wants to go through hell without any witnesses. Trust me, when your tummy is running a hundred miles a minute you really don’t want anyone watching.

Poor GB, how he even figures out what I want, or need I just have no idea. And sometimes, like this past week, he figures out that although I want to be left alone to puke my guts out, I actually need someone to watch reruns of ‘How I met your Mother’ with, and to read verses from Khalil Gibran’s poetry.

Beauty XXV

And a poet said, “Speak to us of Beauty.”

Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her unless she herself be your way and your guide?

And how shall you speak of her except she be the weaver of your speech?

The aggrieved and the injured say, “Beauty is kind and gentle.

Like a young mother half-shy of her own glory she walks among us.”

And the passionate say, “Nay, beauty is a thing of might and dread.

Like the tempest she shakes the earth beneath us and the sky above us.”

The tired and the weary say, “Beauty is of soft whisperings. She speaks in our spirit…”

No I don’t need to perfect, and strong, and brave, all the time. Sometimes, I’ll give up my halo, and lie on the floor puking my guts out. He’ll hold my hand, while my mother shouts from the other room that he should convince me to try and drink the horrid tasting soup. And then when it’s over, at least for the time being, he’ll clip on my wings for me and watch me soar, again.

What I’d like him to know, and I think I tried to say it rather ineffectively [hey, I have a gift with written words, not spoken ones] is that I’ll be there when his halo falls off. I’ll hold his hand until its time for him to clip on his wings and fly. And when he flies, I’ll be the loudest cheering voice of them all. Just like he has been for me all these years.

But enough about me, let’s take a look at last week’s magazine.

Just so you know, the fourth episode of The Creekside Princess 3 begins this week, so be sure to catch up with the third episode:

Dirt Room Part One
Dirt Room Part Two
Dirt Room Part Three

Then we had articles by your favorite authors:

1. The Greek Coffee and the Creek Side Reading Geeks with Roundsquare Chumo

2. A C Lifestyle – Chronic City with Nyambura Kiarie

3. Goodbye My Lover, Goodbye My Muse with Brenda Angwenyi

4. Rude awakening – The Cherub on the Other Side with the Ivory Cherub

5. Dining your Fears – Paper Mache with @soul_fool

Have a great week everyone!

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Letter To My Past Love

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Dear One,

Hey, how you doing? Its been a long long time since we last spoke. Yes. I know, a letter was the last thing you expected from me. Well, I didn’t have the guts to call you or send you an email so I just decided to do this. Hope you like it.

Remember when we met? I ain’t no romantic but, you swept me off my feet. I feel so bad right now that you are not around to do that anymore. I still get shivers whenever I think of you. I also get a cold chill run down my spine when I think of you and your new found love. Sorry to say but I am still sad about that. But this is not why I wrote.

I wrote to let you know that, after about five years, I have finally let you go. Yea, that thing about shivers and cold chills? Not anymore. I have stopped missing you. I forgot about your kisses whenever we met behind dorm 6, about your sensual caresses at night when we would see each other just before preps end, how you used to write me notes and leave them in my books. The high school love was sweet yes, but it damaged me. Now I am rebuilding myself. I was torn when you left me for him. It was a pain I couldn’t bare. But that’s all over now.

I do wish you the best my dear. I hope you can keep it together when he finally dies, seeing that he doesn’t have much time. Take care but,

don’t look for me please. I’m done.

Last love,

Yours before.

*Over & Out*

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