Archive for November, 2013

A long day…

Posted: November 21, 2013 in Uncategorized

Wasted Times.


Wide awake, mind buzzing.

Thoughts in every direction.

Can’t sit still, can’t lie straight.

Watching hours pass by.

Shadow monkeys play loudly.

Out my window, in the moonlight.

Bedtime nags me to get closer.

I need help to relax.

Mary-Jane blows me over.

I can finally sleep.

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Posted: November 17, 2013 in Uncategorized



“I’m six solid chapters in!” Was what I exclaimed to my nosey sister one month after I’d started writing my life story. It was going well, the writing that is, until the same nosey sister pointed out a hitch in the plan. Maybe I should start by giving a brief synopsis of the six chapters? Well, I’m 10 years into the future in the first chapter…strange, I know, but it’s twisted in such a way that readers will find it stimulating. I hope.

In the future, I’ve envisioned myself to be a tongue-lashing mom yelling at my three year old daughter for playing in the rain. Fast forward to chapter 2 where I enter the world, childhood tales etc. etc. Know what? This synopsis thing isn’t working at ALL. It’s bad enough that I have to sit myself down and write a whole book. That’s no mean feat.

I’ll just go straight to the snag that the sister pointed out. It’s Tuesday evening and I’m otherwise unoccupied. I decide to pen a chapter or two for the book and my sister, let’s call her Nancy, shows up and asks what I’m doing typing away instead of helping her with her constitutional law assignment.

I’m writing a book.” I state shortly.

“You’ll never finish”

“Says who?”

“ME sis, how many books have you set out writing before? You completed any yet?”

“I have in fact completed two Nancy.” That was a lie of some sorts. I had completed one…not completed COMPLETED, there was still lots of editing to be done and stuff.

“Oh, you have? That’s great. Can I read it?”


“Okay, sooo, what are you writing now?”

“My biography.” A short silence that spoke volumes ensued. I stopped typing and looked at her. Then as our eyes met, she burst out laughing…showy giggles that peeved me to no end.

“What’s funny?” I’m exasperated.

“Nothing, nothing…carry on.”

“Yes, I will. Go away, you’re distracting me.”

“Hahah sis si nilidhani biographies zinaandikwa na watu wako famous.”

Kiswahili for, “Aren’t biographies written by famous people?”

“What do you know, I’m famous. Go away!” She left, leaving me in deep contemplation. She was right in a way. Most, in fact ALL biographies I’ve read are written by famous people, not gaunt and scrawny twenty year olds who’ve done absolutely nothing to create an almighty impact in the world. Of course, now I have doubts about going through with this for the simple reason that I’m not legendary…but then again, the very same meddlesome sister always told me that one day we’d be famous. The “how” in being famous, we really don’t know. I guess I’ll just keep writing the book for when we’re famous. Simple solution.





hey, Jane Austen’s great.

The Bookshelf of Emily J.

I think I’ve passed the age at which I can enjoy Jane Austen.  I finished reading Sense and Sensibility (1811) and number 54 on the BBC book list, but I didn’t really care to.  I felt bored and yawned through it.  A lot.

The plot doesn’t have much action.  In fact, there’s hardly any action.  It is about the sisters of a family who are trying to find husbands.  Hmmmm.  That sounds an awful like the rest of Austen’s books.

(Today, I don’t have my own photo of the book cover, but I found several lovely covers online and I’ll paste them throughout.  I love seeing different renderings.)


What the book did offer, for me, was an exploration of the difficulties in being a woman during that time.  The book begins with a discussion of the Dashwood sisters as children from their father’s second marriage, and that he had…

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Posted: November 6, 2013 in Uncategorized

There’s places and there’s time

There’s forever and there’s today,

The chances we took and those we lost,

They glow in the darkness and hurt the most,

When the sun sets and the world turns cold,

With the air thick of all the ancient legends told,

The voices all around us come to life,

Clawing their way out through the layers of defenses,

They feed on fear and thrive on doubt,

Paralyze your senses and trample on your hopes,

But even at the onset failure and threat of defeat,

Still your heart, and close your eyes,

Hold out your hand and feel the night skies,

Past the uncertainties and treacherous lies,

That common sense whispers into your ears,

For tonight we ride with the angels,

Pure as sin and white as snow,

Into forever,

Keeping all our promises.

Make no mistake readers, I’d never write such an appealing poem. well, technically, i would, but it’d be disastrous..sad even. In my next post I’ll probably enlighten you all, on the author of the above poem.