Category: My rumblings (Page 1 of 2)

At a crossroads

The day I received my termination letter started off like any other. Hot and humid, and boring as F… as usual. Nothing in the normal-ish breakfast of watered-down, black-as-coal tea coupled with a not-so-delicious and dry as hell “Andazi” prepared me for this thing that has, in more ways than one, drastically changed the direction my life was headed.

There I was, at my workstation. Perusing through customer profiles, absent-mindedly willing my nine-hour shift to end as fast as Usain Bolt’s vanishing act in the 100 meters. When a brown envelope, apparently sent to my branch manager from the HR department at the head office in Nairobi, Kenya, landed on my desk. The first sentence read… “As originally stated in your appointment letter, dated June 1, 2017. This letter is to notify you that your role in the position of Customer care intern, will end effective May 31, 2018, and will not be renewed…”

I will spare you the rest of the gory, heart wrenching, soul-grinding, butt-squeezing, suffocating details. I read the rest of the letter in a resigned, I-frigging-hate-this-like-Trump-hates-china kind of way and knew then and there, in the deepest crevices of my heart that my life would never be the same again. I had zero savings, massive debts and an unstainable lifestyle, all of which depended on my salary, without which I was remorselessly fucked. In the truest definition of the word.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, my job as a customer service representative in one of Kenya’s leading retail enterprise ended in that not-so-romantic way. I hightailed it out of there and was literally thrown out to the dogs. And believe me when I tell you, being without a job, and in debt, in a town far away from home, in a society that doesn’t give a rat’s ass is something you don’t want to find out about. I lived like a church mouse…the ultimate church mouse… Indeed I lived like a homeless church mouse whose friends just bullied and threw out of the church.

I had no rent money, no food money, and no money for any number of a hundred needs and wants money is needed and wanted for. And because of this, I did any number of jobs that I could wrestle out of mother fates cold-dead-gnarly uncaring hands. Everything from freelance writing to writing for second-rate peanut paying content mills that have so many rules for registration you would think you are applying for a UN job. In the end, after 4 months of hunger and anger and depression. I received a call from a friend saying he wanted to hook me up with a job.

Turns out the job was Insurance, so yes. I just started out my career as an insurance agent. A whole new jungle of struggle and challenge. One which I have chosen to embrace and cling to like a dying man in a frigging ocean. My life is at a crossroads… my life will never be the same again. Not ever.

And if I manage to crack this insurance gig, most people don’t think I can, in fact, most of my friends and family, my mother included, think I’m demented to even take the job, that’s how tough the insurance market in Kenya is… but if I crack this gig… well, then, maybe, just maybe for once in my life I will be truly free.

OF SLAY QUEENS AND WHY THEY ARE QUEENS OF NOTHING. (Part 1)

A story is told of a girl child. Born in the middle of the night to a runaway queen. Born on an island in the middle of nowhere whilst angry waves raged, lightning struck and thunder boomed. Daenerys Stormborn she was called. Her mother, the queen dies during childbirth leaving young Daenerys motherless and fatherless. Fatherless because her father King Aemon Targaryen had just been murdered, the result of an uprising that had ravaged the land for years. The usurper then killed every last Targaryen he could find, to better protect his claim to the throne. As a result the orphan princess, Daenerys “stormborn” Targaryen is the last living member of the once powerful and feared house Targaryen.

The story of how Daenerys grows up, running from one town to the next, always one step ahead of the assassins sent by the usurper king to kill her, and returns to exert vengeance on the people who killed her family and to take back the throne that is hers by right is one of the most gripping, explosive epic fantasy tales of our times. We have George R.R. Martin to thank for penning this magnificent story in his book series “A song of ice and fire.” We also owe HBO a debt of gratitude for bringing the story to life in the movie series “Game of thrones.”

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Emilia Clarke, she plays Daenerys Targaryen in Game of Thrones.

This story albeit fictional is a perfect example of determination, strength against all odds, resilience, beauty and brains. It’s the stuff queens should be made of. Yet you and I both know that this is not the case in our times. Not nearly the case. In this day and age any girl worth the salt in a salt shaker who fancies herself good to look at labels herself a queen lest she be left behind by her peers in the queen bandwagon. Slay queens they call themselves, what do they slay I wonder.

We have witnessed the rise of self-absorbed, self-aggrandizing, petty, unenlightened, dismally read, alcohol guzzling, shisha smoking, bogus queens whose only claim to queening is their good looks. Looks that don’t look so good in the morning when they wake up and all the make up has rubbed off. Ask any of these self-proclaimed queens the name of the coldest desert on the planet and she will roll her heavily mascarad eyes at you and walk away. Because instead of brains between their ears there is smoke.  Bitch you ain’t no queen.

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If a woman is knowledgeable, she becomes more beautiful.

I for one would like to believe that a little make up and good looks shouldn’t be all it takes to be a queen. We all know that the days of old are long gone to dust and the few royal families left in the world are ceremonial to say the least. Still, it has always been the human nature to aspire for something much bigger than themselves, so no, I don’t despise these would be queens… But shouldn’t a queen have vision, goals, be confident and astute, aspire to inspire. A queen shouldn’t only look good, a queen should be good at whatever it is she does. And she should use said goodness to change not only her life but the lives of those around her.

 

THE COLOR OF LOVE 

Wind. A breeze. The quiet promise of a starry night sky. A woman. A windy breeze blowing under a starry night sky carries upon its wings the quiet promise of a woman.

Who has looked into a woman’s eyes and seen her soul? Who has held her and felt the reverberations of her thoughts? Who has conversed with her and understood the inner machinations of her heart?

Which man has kissed her lips and not felt his heartstrings snap? Which fiery hearted lover while ensnared in her embrace hasn’t felt fleetingly a slice of paradise? And in so doing, hasn’t he for the slimmest breath of a second perchance…glimpsed the color of love?

Like a river after the rains, love flows, over flows,  swells its banks and we like so much sand are swept into its murky depths to lose our dignity, the very fabric of our independence in pursuit of another human being. A person, who most often as not doesn’t appreciate the fact. One whom by utter ignorance or petty prejudice disregards and belittle the courage we have shown.

But that is to be expected.

Who being loved has ever understood the sacrifice made in loving them? Who being loved knows why?   Who being loved doesn’t take for granted the affection shown them? Who being loved has ever looked deep into themselves and questioned if they deserve to be loved?

The color of love is one so true as to be next to impossible to find. Why?   It finds us when we least expect and eludes us when we need it most.

Alas when it finds us!

Which meal, eaten, has ever tasted as sweet?   What manner of musical note, having been listened to, has ever rang so pure and true? Which drink, drunk, quenches all thirst?

What color…in the whole world…possesses hues as vivid as to rival the color of love.

LOVE IS OVERRATED. LETS JUST HAVE SEX.

SEX IS FUNNY, LOVE IS SERIOUS.

Two decades I have lived…Two decades mired in struggle, married with unrelenting and repetitive not knowing.  Chasing the elusive better tomorrow. Yet I must say, nothing quite scares the living hell out of me like love.

Well, It wasn’t always like that. In the past I loved love. Or the idea of love at least. Two strangers, unwittingly brought together by fate, willingly with tingly sensations losing themselves in each other. Living in a happy place filled with radiant sunshine, beautiful sunsets and starry skies, carried away by breath snatching kisses, goosebumps inducing caresses and hotter than Mombasa at noon love-making.

Turns out the idea my over imaginative head had concerning love couldn’t have been further from the truth. And the truth… it hit me like a ten tonne truck speeding downhill when Zipporah Onsongo broke my heart. I learnt that love wasn’t birthed when you looked at the object of your affections ans she smiled at you. I learnt that love wasn’t all sweet and rosy as the movies would have us believe. I learnt that in reality damsels didn’t go all week in the knee and misty eyed when you told them you love them. And even as smithereens of my ruined heart filled my chest with the pain of a thousand needles. I was dragged down into the dark fathoms of despondency and self loathing. And that’s not the worst part, no. It doesn’t even come close. The worst part is she broke my heart and didn’t even know it. “I love you like a brother.” Was what she said. Words forever etched onto my heart with the vividness of a tattoo.

And like that Love was done with me and I with love. Done and done. Thank you but no thanks. I mean, why can’t we just have sex? No? But why?

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Hippoquotes.com

Am not saying I haven’t met other fine ladies after the fiasco with Onsongo the heart breaker hereafter referred to as the “heart breaker.” I have and prettier ones at that. Why, Bertha Lauren was romance itself, Lily was the sweetest girl, I haven’t laughed so hard since Diana, Yvonne stole my virginity, Phine was a lesson in kamasutra, Letisha is the fuck of my life,  Winnie understood me and Rina loved me. I could go on and on but that’s beside the point. The point being that the forbidden fruit while untested is often the sweetest. “The heart breaker” with all her perfect imperfections held sway over me because I couldn’t have her. But that isn’t to mean all the girls who reject me are of consequence.  Far from it. See the mistake I made with “the heart breaker”  was that I invested too much time and feelings into the whole debacle. I day dreamed about her, many a night I night dreamed about her as well with the result that I was hopelessly and pathetically infatuated. Thanks to that experience that is something I don’t do anymore. I don’t fixate on girls. They are not worth it in the long run. Let’s just have sex uh?

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I want you and I, mature adults that we are, to be honest with each other. There is no need to dissemble. Love is for marriage folk and folk looking to get married. More fool they, for marriage kills love faster than the time it takes for Vera Sidika’s twerking derriere to go viral. The rest of us normal folk shouldn’t dabble in the messy affair that is love. We end up complicating shit, as though shit ain’t complicated enough as it is. Let’s just have sex aye?

Life is full of shit. Most of which are self-inflicted, galvanized and fueled by societal notions and expectations. Sex for sex’s sake, done by two individuals who want to, unencumbered by conditional mannerisms is the only pure thing left. Who said love must come first, show me the rationale which qualifies that ideal. Can’t we just get along, like each other along the way, have sex like two idiots and remember each other fondly?

I for one know that am good in bed. And you look like you could be too…I don’t know…so what’s the big deal. Let’s just get on with it. Do the do and be done.

My book comes out next month!

Disclaimer: The content published herein is copyrighted to the Author (Bujabs Dennis) and may NOT be used anywhere else in ANY format, whether in Print or Electronic.

Hello good people. Its been a minute since I last wrote onto here. I have been working on my book. Its like Eminem said, Harley, daddy’s gotta write a song, the song won’t write itself. So yeah, that’s where I’ve been. Writing and rewriting, fighting off feelings of deplorable haggardness and all the while feeling as though my brains were wilting.

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Its been amazing writing my own novel, its a special feeling.

Technically my book’s already written, Its the gritty nasty part which comes after that I’ve been painstakingly undertaking. The editing and proofreading. And take it from me, that shit is difficult. But hey, no good thing comes easy. Besides, I’ve got a really good motto…its simple yet motivating and it doesn’t have any of that mushy sentimental bullshit you get from everyday internet quotes. Mine says… When in hell, the only way out is through the fire. Cool huh? I know.

Anyway, enough with the complaining. On to the good stuff. I have created something of worth. Something that will leave a mark. Wait till you read the summary…yeah, you read right…before this post is over I will release the summary officially. So read on pal. Its gooood up in here.

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The editing led me to my first cup of cappuccino. It isn’t as delicious as it looks.

And because we’ve started on the good, lets not stop. Details on the book are as follows.

TITTLE: Before the Games.

Author: Bujabs Dennis (obviously)

GENRE: Epic Fantasy.

Alternate world, death defying warriors, magic,birds of prey that can be ridden as men ride horses. Powerful sects, corrupt government officials, noble princes, beautiful princesses and mighty kings. Yeah, that’s what you are signing up for in  “Before The Games” 

There is something for everyone.

 IT’S GOING TO BE A TRILOGY!

This first book is only the first in a series of three. One that before it ends will see you to another dimension and immerse you in gory battles, amazing cultures, magic, and romantic interludes.

The name of this continuing series is The Vanah Chronicles.

THE SUMMARY.

BEFORE the GAMES. (book one of the vanah chronicles.)

 Five nations coexist.

The thriving cosmopolitan republic of Vena.

The waterlands, Biru.

The Desert chiefdoms of Konta.

The grassland nation of Marubi.

The cold mountainous monarch, Ostabi.

What unites the five are the games. A ritualistic competition that happens once every decade.

Meanwhile in secret old forces rise again. Rivalries are renewed and the games that once promised harmony and fostered peace could be the harbinger of doom.

But the games must go on…

Look alive folks. I will update you in due course on which platform or platforms the book will be available.

Till then, keep reading. Keep dreaming. Lets leave a mark.

WRITTEN IN MY HEART’S OWN BLOOD. TO MY LOVE

When next you knock on my door, I will stop whatever I was doing, shout out a breathless…”Coming.” Hastily tidy up…spray a quick whiff of lavender into the air, plaster onto my face my best its-so-nice-seeing-you smile and rush to welcome you in my love. That is what I will do.

I will hold your hands and pull you into the room, then envelope you in a hug-so-tight-it-leaves-you-breathless-yet-you-feel-so-happy-nibble your ears-lift-you-into-the-air-spin-you-around-set-you-down-and-squeeze-you-some-more kind of hug. I will hang your bag on a peg and usher you to a seat with a humble…”I would have said have a seat but a bed is all there is…so have a bed dear.” That is what I will do.

I will pour you some refreshment…hand it over…tell you to sit proper…and throw myself down beside you…I will rest my head on your lap and breath deeply a heady whiff of your intoxicating body scent…I will be content then…NO…not just yet…I will open up my note book and read you that love note  I have been working on. I will play some soft tunes and sing along to you using my cooking stick as a mic. I will make you laugh. That is what I will do.
When am done making you laugh…I will make you wet. That I will do by first asking for a dance when an especially romantic tune plays. With a bow I will say, “Baby, can I have this dance?” Then I will whisk you around the room taking special care not to step on your toes…I will look you deep in the eye and tell you how irresistible you are. That is what I will do.

And while the song continues to carry us on its rythmic currents…I will push you up against a wall, pressing your body with mine…moulding your soft planes with my hard angles. I will place both hands on your cheeks, tip your head back just a bit and plant a most passionate kiss on your lips. I will kiss the upper lip, suck on the lower, I will bite on it, so gently it won’t hurt. I will run a finger so slow down your spine the motion will leave a tingly feeling sneaking up that shapely spine. Meanwhile I will be kissing that spot on your neck that has a pulse. Then I will lift you up and carry you to my bed. That is what I will do.

We will tumble down together, wherehence I will reach behind you to unclasp your bra. Thereafter I will lift up your top and expose the sensual promontories of your bust. I will love your boobs with my eyes…and then I will love them with my hands…But before that, I will make sure to get an eyeful, for remembrance…to keep me warm in future cold nights. After I get that eyeful, a handfull will suffice…I will grasp them both, feel their silky softness, their hot readiness. I will explore them…tease…careress…and just when your nipples get brazenly erect, I will take each into my mouth and savour their tangy taste like so many lolipops. That is what I will do.

And whilst I continue to discover the pleasures of and encumbent. I will slide down my hands behind you to grab your ass…Now don’t get me wrong, there is holding, there is grasping, there is handling, and there is grabbing. And grabbing is what I will do.
Thereafter I will careress your legs from the knees up. I will spread them open to get to your moist inner thighs…I will move up so slow you will be wishing to speed up my hands…to get my hands up there faster. And then I will get there and you will be wishing I never leave. I will rub you through your moist pant…I will hold on to you as surely as any olympian has ever held his gold medal. That is what I will do.

And just when your river of pleasure is ready to burst its banks. I will slip a finger into the pant and hold your leash. And then I will commence my dance…symalteanously rubbing the leash and penetrating a finger into your silky wetness. Slowly at first…then faster and faster. And as pleasure mounts, I will unwrap you…throw aside the wrapping, open up your legs…push your thighs apart and suck on your center of pleasurisation. I will tease it with my tongue, flick my tongue on and in it…and then we will unleash the beast on it. I will use it to rub your wetness…And then I will endevour to usher you to the utmost crest of love. This is what I will do.

RAW AMBITION

Never stop wanting what you want. (Bujabs Dennis)

At this time…a young man someplace stands in the rain. The icy prickles of the rain his only companion. Reminding him of that which he would give anything to forget. That he is human. He stands in the rain…and dreams about the future. Hoping with everything he holds dear, that it is one worth living.

Else-wise, all the strife would have been for naught. And that, according to him, is just fucked up. He contemplates that which he doesn’t want to think about…that which he has no power over. What if the future isn’t bright…he doesn’t even want to think it. But think it he must. And if after everything he’s been through that happens to be the case. Well, that would be fucked up in all kinds of fuckery.

Because the truth is…the young man has been through a lot. And every once in a while he sits down and curses by all the curses he’s learnt. He stands and dances all the dances he remembers. Sings all the songs in his head and prays the only prayer he knows. “God, please don’t fuck me up. Please do not fuck me up.”

He does all these things, not because he is in any way mad. And not because he is a fool. No, the young man is no fool. He does this things…in an attempt to understand…to make sense of the fuckery that is his life.

The young man is no fool. Neither is he an idiot. Indeed all the things you think he is. He is not. What he is…is desperate. He neeeeeds to understand, he needs his question answered. “Why? Why not him? Why not now?” These are the questions that refuses to leave his head.

The young man has tried. And continues to try…to be the best version of himself. He figures that if he works true…he must succeed. Till then he will do everything, anything… to get his fuck on. Because he has realized one thing, his life depends on it. And with it the meaning of it.

The future cannot afford not to be bright. Not for the young man. He will fight every fight. Run every race…hell, he will beg and lie and steal and fuck and plead. He will do these things and more…. So if you know what’s right for you…you will stay out of his way.

Kisumu City; The heat, the girls and the mosquitoes.

Yesterday I was in Kisumu. That’s a beautiful lakeside city in Nyanza province, Kenya. The roads are filled with bodabodas and Matatus. Both being affordable means of transportation for the larger population that for various reasons cannot afford their own vehicular means. Being in Kisumu, like any city reminded me that life is bigger than any one man. I mean, what better way to broaden your perspective than to stand in a city street and just watch as hundreds and hundreds of strangers’ stream by you. People you have never met and will in all likelihood never meet ever again, chasing that elusive self-actualization, each in his own way. But that is neither here nor there, life was given us and live it we must.

Kisumu is the third largest city in Kenya, with a population of approximately half a million, give or take. The number doesn’t seem that much considering Nairobi, the capital city whose population has sky rocketed in recent years to near five million. Still, a visit to Kisumu will reveal that the number is substantial. This article is one man’s story of his experience and observations. This man, Bujabs Dennis is a writer, a lover of life, art and women. Dig in.

THE HEAT

I arrived in Kisumu at noon. My immediate reaction to the naked noon day sun was to shield my eyes, crunch my brow, swallow some spit, spit it out and with enormous agency, seek shade. The heat in Kisumu is unforgiving, ruthless, relentless, searing and unyielding in its intensity. At least during the noon day period. The sun continues to scorch until well past 1500 hours.

And with the heat comes the dust. Dust that penetrates, infiltrates, suffocates and correlates with the ensuring body sweat in an annoying symphony of hateful suffering. If one P.M should find you in Oginga odinga street. The main street of Kisumu. I swear you would give anything, including your virginity for a bath. It’s that hot.
But it’s not all bad. Sweating is healthy…all the filthy, grimy, greasy, body waste comes out so when you shower later you are left feeling healthy, invigorated and happy. Trust me. That’s Kisumu for you.
THE GIRLS.

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Damn me to heaven and back. The ladies are fine in Kisumu city. And that’s fine with a capital F and an exclamation mark. If any normal young man whose loins are firing with the juices of sex starved lustiness made a sojourn to the lakeside city, he would do like I did. Do a jig on the street and sing in praise of the girl paradise that is the city by the lake.

My people, I saw big bouncing booty. Voluptuous booty. Small jutting booty. Just right for holding booty. Please just grab me booty. You know you want to spank me booty. I love that you are looking booty. You can’t look away booty and I know what you are thinking booty. As if that was not enough, I faced optical torture in the extreme. I witnessed heavy boobs. Brave boobs. Achingly swollen boobs. Brazenly exposed boobs. Burgeoning boobs. Eager boobs. Full boobs. Honey soft boobs. Plumb boobs. Thrusting boobs.

The beautiful diversity mixed with the color variety would make any man divorce his wife. Or seriously consider divorce. I saw ebony lasses. Honey brown lasses with just the right pinch of the color. Black ladies burned by the sun into goddesses of the sun. I saw Muslim ladies in Hi-jabs that did nothing to hide that figure of wonder. You know what am talking about? You do.

If you are a man anywhere in the world. Trust me, you want to visit Kisumu. Trust me. You want to.

 

THE MOSQUITOES

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A night in Kisumu is a lesson. A lesson in types of mosquitoes. Maybe the reason mosquitoes are so many in Kisumu is because…duh! The second largest fresh water lake in the world sits just right there on the suburbs. All mosquitoes are descendent from that place.

I say this because there are gold digger mosquitoes in Kisumu, they just want to mine that blood. There are socialite mosquitoes who want the attention. Why else would they spend the entire night going zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz in and around your head? There are obese mosquitoes, drunk from the blood of unsuspecting idiots, Oh sorry, human beings. There are slim, malnourished mosquitoes looking to get into the blood. There are dons and crime bosses that sit back and delegate the biting to lesser minions.

There is even some mosquitoes from the ghetto that do their biting in the lesser estates. The big affluent ones do their biting in high society.

The good news is, rarely are anopheles mosquitoes found in Kisumu. You know, the ones that transmit Malaria.

That’s that. For the best in sunshine, girls and mosquitoes. Visit Kisumu. Am out.

 

More GIRLS from kisumu

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More sights and sounds from kisumu city

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5 things in life you must never compromise on.

I have been doing some serious thinking lately. I say serious because I subscribe to the opinion; reflection maketh a man. And to think is to entertain possibilities, to discover solutions, to recover contemplations. So having pondered, upon the subject; this life (we so appropriately) find ourselves in. Having reflected upon man’s hopeless yet relentless pursuit of self actualization. I have reached obvious (Yet most times overlooked solutions). I have discovered that the best life is in our dreams but since we reside in reality. We just have to make do…
What to do friends…. when you know happiness is elusive…ambitions more elusive and true friends elusiver still.
I find that Life is imperfect, but imperfection is beauty. Madness is genius….and its better to be true to yourself, than to try (A fools task) to please everyone.
I have discovered that to truly live…action must be taken. Drastic measures even. And that some things in life must never be compromised on. Those things…are….

WHO YOU ARE.

Define you. Because only you know you best. Don’t let nobody tell you who you are. Rather; tell them who you are.
One of the codes I live by is know thyself . You should too. All my life I have endeavoured to be faithful to this. To live for me…make decisoins for me…and do the things I do for me. I figure, If you know yourself. Your identity, your motivations, strengths and weaknesses. Then you can begin… Begin to live. For you. And if you make any wrong turns, you have only yourself to blame. If you make all the right turns… you have yourself to thank. That in essence is the element of the adage. So folks, friends… Know thyself.

YOUR HAPPINESS.

The only keeper of your happiness is you. Stop giving anyone the power to control your smile, your worth and your attitude. (Mandy Hale)

Life is about happiness. The one thing we can define life by is Man’s endless pursuit for happiness. When we are born, our parents are happy. Not entirely because we have been born. Look at it from this perspective. The father realizes that he has the power of life in his loins. He carries himself differently. He then proceeds to boast to friends. Friends whose regard of him increases, why? He is now truly a man. Thus he is happy. The woman likewise. We grow up, and are inducted into the education system…the reason being? Education is the path to a bright future. Or so we are led to believe. A bright future which will guarantee a good life, which will in turn usher in happiness. We seek employment to make a living. A living derived from hours of unpleasant toiling. All in the pursuit of happiness. We seek friends, lovers, betray others… ignore others, adore others….to be HAPPY. We dream about being wealthy, because we suppose money comes with happiness. As such, We can argue… happiness is the prime motivator. The absolute government. Everything we do, everything we wish we could do…are our minds warped attempts at attaining that most slippery of states. HAPPINESS.
That said, your happiness is of the utmost importance. Indeed its relevance in life can’t be overstated. Therefore; deriving from the argument laid above. Don’t compromise on your happiness. They say there is no key to happiness…the gate is always open. It’s entirely up to you…to go for what makes you happy, irrespective of what anyone’s thoughts on the matter are. And if they call you selfish…well…let them. After all…life is only so long.

 

YOUR DREAMS AND AMBITIONS

The two most important days in life are; the day you are born and the day you find out WHY. (Mark twain)

There is nothing so sad as a life of unfulfilled potential. One filled with regret of what is and what could have been. You owe it to yourself to achieve your dream. The road to which is riddled with depression, rejection, betrayal, hurt, fear and a hundred other bad things. But your dream it is…you chose it…and so you have to follow it where it leads. Just as there is nothing sadder than unfulfilled potential, there is nothing more gratifying than living your dream in reality.
So keep on keeping on. Aim if you aimed for the stars. Don’t abandon them for the clouds because clouds are more convenient. Convenient they may be…but they will never make you happy.

YOUR LIFE PARTNER

Marry a person you see yourself growing old with. Its called Marri-4-age for Gods sake!

I pray that you live long…and meet your soul mate and marry. (That is if you haven’t already.) And please on that momentous day. Marry a person that completes you…one you see yourself living a dozen years with. Not a one who makes you tired and morose after a couple of hours. To marry a person such as this; because of say their looks or their position in society would be madness. That right there, is courting unpleasant eventualities like domestic violence, adultery and divorce.
So for people looking to marry. I have only this advice. Don’t go for safe. (Most women will compromise arguing attributes like; he will never go violent. He may not make my heart skip a bit but at least he is available, he has money, I know he will never cheat on me….blah, blah, utter rubbish. Complete nonsense. Marry the person you always so your self marrying. If it’s a prince you want to marry. well…Good for you. After all, you are to blame for setting your standards that high. Others will argue that such is being unrealistic. I say, fuck them and their opinions. Go for it.
Marriage is depressing, trying, tiring, absolutely and ridiculously difficult. Do yourself a favor. Marry a person you can TOLERATE.

YOUR FRIENDS

When people treat you like they don’t care; Believe them. They don’t.

Tell me who your friends are… and I will tell you who you are.
Aspire to associate with friends that make you better. Those that challenge you to be more than you are. And if you are the brightest of your friends…you need other friends. Permit me to say that the above doesn’t necessarily mean that you abandon your “lesser” wayward acquaintances. You may need them someday. But the bulk of your associates, those you spend most of your time with, should be people who inspire you to become what you want to become.
If all your friends do is call you to ask where and when you will be going out. To gossip on “Hot” and new catches. Or worse still….discourage you whenever you confide in them your ambitions. Then its simple. Run! Run run. You are better of without them.

 

So friends; the above are my humble ingredients for a better, more, productive and fulfilling life. Keep dreaming.

Yesternight. When I finished writing this article.

Yeeeeah. Feeling Myself.

Its your boy. Bujabs

 

Understanding life.

I am not a simple man. I am ambitious to the roots of my toes, fiercely loyal to family and perhaps foolishly trusting of those not deserving of trust, but not simple.Then again, simple is relative; no one is really simple…and everyone has a story. I guess mine is just awash with more shades of grey than most.

 

The story of my life is a ponderous apologue I won’t dolor you with right now. But maybe someday, when the same ceases to be same, and the name Bujabs Dennis is a fame. That day, I will engross on hearts and minds a story unlike any other. A story of wrangles, tussles and hassle,  a story of grim fortitude and base stalwatness. The story of Bujabs Dennis.  Today however, I write a little memorabilia for me…oh, and for you too if you chose to concern yourself. I find that jotting down my reflections enable me to better contemplate on my station, and decide my direction. Indulge me friends, (I know you are not really friends…but for the sake of appearances eh…)

 

I find that a times all I need is a good book. Other times all I need could fill a book. You see; my position uniquely gifts me with perceptive abilities. I ask myself questions…many a night. “Is happiness tied to money? and if it is, why are so many rich people so miserable? And if it isn’t, why is the primary ratiocination behind my despondency lack of money.” Sometimes I find answers to my questions, most times I don’t. “Is loneliness self-inflicted, or is it a result of being socially awkward…does everyone feel lonely, or is it my portion alone. And if loneliness is not self-inflicted, why then do I shun company…why do I feel ill-suited to engage in conversations my peers enjoy…conversations about going out and fashion and breakups and whose the hottest girl or boy.” I feel like I grew up too fast.

 

I read somewhere that living is for the present, and that we should embrace the moment. But try as I might, my life is all in the future…because right now…the moment…the moment is dreary, banal and pedestrian. I don’t know if tomorrow brings reprieve…but reprieve must come. The night gets darker before it gets darkest. But even the darkest night dawns. Life is a conundrum…but so am I…and survive I will. After all, that’s what I DO BEST.

I survive. Till next time. Keep dreaming.

 

 

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