Epiphanal Ramblings of a Drug-addled Soul.

Guest Post: Ken Mutinda

There is such a thing, I think… as growing up, or else this incandescent aura of transcendence that so permeates my body, leaving me so brilliantly luminescent, would be a really, really weird trip.

What it is, I have come to somewhat realize-notice, is not a clean turning of the next page. It is a process, like breaking out of a chrysalis, metamorphosis. As we grow old, time passes and we inevitably lose the extraneous waste that is not necessary for bare survival that we are born with. We lose the bleary eyed innocence, dreamy glint of the eye, outrageous, naive plans, adventure, mystery, curiosity, thirst, lust, and yes… eventually, love. Like a peeling back of the layers, we lose the baby fat, the puffed out chest, the high-held chin, the unflinching stare, we shed the layers until nothing is left but the bare barren core, exposed to the elements of time and life.

Growing up is not winning it is a grave, grave, loss. And it is inevitable. or something like that.



I fell for this girl since long ago,
Before I was even self-aware
Or conscious enough
To know much about things like authenticity or passion.

I fell for this girl since long ago,
I still remember that first time –
To the repeat of “Foolish Games” by Jewel.
I am not one to caress nostalgia,
But that memory still grips me.

I fell for this girl since long ago,
But I also fell
To other temptations
Of external validation,
Social comparison,
And the presumed security of paths more chosen.

I fell for this girl since long ago,
But I lost touch for many years.
Convinced I had chosen
When I had actually surrendered;
Convinced I was in control,
When I was actually in fear.

I told myself I doubted her,
But really, I doubted myself.

I fell for this girl since long ago,
And it wasn’t until recently
That our paths re-crossed,
As if they had been latently intertwined, All these years.
I feared we wouldn’t pick up where we left off,
And we didn’t,
Because we were now someplace better.

There are those who seek aerial thrills of skydiving,
But I seek the vibrance of her depth.
There are those who seek the blur of temerity,
But I seek the wisdom of her clarity.

I promise her that one day,
When I learn to better infuse passion,
To discern risk,
To wield the present,
To exonerate my mind from doubt,
To fail artfully,
I promise that one day
I will commit.

I fell for this girl since long ago.
She calls herself “Writing”.

We are having a Convo, please put down that phone!

Everyone has that family member, be it an elderly aunt or uncle, a grandparent, or what have you, that’s simply out of touch with the times. They take advantage of every opportunity to remind you how good things were when people wrote letters to one another with feather-tip pens and used clotheslines instead of machine dryers (ok I still use clothesline). They warn that cell phones and the Internet spell the end of society.

When I interact with my old man, who refuses to learn how to e-mail, I silently assure myself that I’ll never be like that when I’m older. Thing is, maybe I already am…

You see, texting during a one-on-one conversation bothers me. It’s like an interruption of the natural flow of things. Imagine watching a scene of Breaking Bad and Jesse Pinkman stops to respond to a Facebook message about how Rachel (of Suits) is hot, which she really is. I would be livid and his career would be over. Pulling out his phone ruined the flow of the scene.

Sorry, I just had to respond to my friend real quick. I lost my train of thought. What was I saying?

Oh, yeah. The kind of texting that bothers me is not the kind where someone responds to a message every now and then or the kind when you are in a big group just hanging out. It’s the one where you are having dinner with a friend or colleague who can’t help but look at their phone every five minutes and reply. They smile as they type and literally “lol.”

No matter how you put it, I feel texting encroaches on quality time. They say nonverbal communication matters more than the verbal kind. To me, constantly taking out your phone to text is the same as saying “I could care less about your time and I’d much rather be doing something else.” You may assure me that’s not the case, but right after you say so you look right back at your phone and miss my comments about seeing the part where Walter White and Jesse ‘acidified’ that guy on a bathtub.

And this reflects the perspective of many adults in their 20s, and, especially, many teenagers. Texting during a conversation in person is a sign that things are indeed changing. People are choosing to communicate via 140 character messages instead of verbally.

I can’t blame them (us). It’s easier and faster just to text. I text all the time to inform people of current socials events. No one wants to always go through the motions of greetings and salutations when they just want to let you know they are on their way or to invite you to a party. Why would you waste your hard-earned cash and time to travel, or be stuck in traffic hours on end (I don’t miss Nairobi traffic) to talk to your friend in person when you could just text?

I say this not sanctimoniously but sympathetically. It’s difficult to combat the allure of instant gratification. I like hearing the sound of my Khona ringtone. In my brain, it’s tantamount to attention and approval. I fear that I will get hit by some car but most likely by a motorbike (its Kitale yow!) one day because you’ll often find me texting while crossing the road. I have a hard time not responding when I hear that beep beep BEEP beep and see that little speech bubble on my screen.

But I’m committed to stay present in the moment. So much so that I sometimes I put my phone on airplane mode before we talk to show him or her I plan to give them my full and undivided attention. Daydreaming is another matter entirely, but that can’t be helped.

When it comes to relationships, there’s nothing more craven than to break up via text message. You save yourself the pain of seeing your significant other’s face and hearing their accusations yet deny them the genuineness the situation requires. We often times hide behind the text message like an LCD shield. Typing our vexations to our partner is easier because it’s so impersonal.

So, why does it bother me so that friends pull out their phones and text during a conversation? Because like the advent of devices like Google Glass, geniuses are constantly inventing more ways for us to interact with digital media yet ignore one another in person. Because one day, and one day soon, just like our tails, our mouths will be phased out. Who will have time to talk in person when you can text, Whatsapp, FB Chat, Skype, E-mail, G-Chat, and whatever other forms of virtual communication they devise in the next five years!

I urge you, dear reader, to let me know if I’m dead wrong. But would you kindly put away your phone and be present in our conversation! Is that too much to ask?