For close to three months I have posted nothing, not that I have not been having ideas or I haven’t been thinking, trust me I have, and too much I have been. You see I have been having writer’s block (something like ‘that time of the month’ but in this case it can take months) for a while. But above all I have been traveling a lot and learning a lot and making merry a lot and meeting people both important and useless.
So while I was hibernating, no, actually the other day as we were drinking with a friend some ninja (a friend to the friend) joined us. Before the baga could even pull a seat, I just knew the merry making was about to come to a close. This ninja apparently comes from the ‘you know who’ family and he is not shy to pronounce that, he even looks like the guy who will stop the deejay just to tell whoever cares to listen about his rendezvous. Any way to cut the long story short the guy kept being cocky about his life, from traveling the world to going out with exotic models n shit. Ok, that was not a goodnight for us, and later I kept asking myself, what does it really take to be good? What makes us happy?
It’s like we’re in an arms race to see who can live the most, except the problem is that we define “living” very specifically. We think unless we’re diving from the top board, Kiambuiring, Masakuing, adventuring and evolving and documenting the entire thing on Instagram or Facebook, we’re not living. There’s more life out there than there is in here. If we go out and do something, we become something, or at the very least, we can prove that to other people… and if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for us.
But what is it to live life to the fullest? If I am sitting peacefully, joyfully, on my desk staring at the ceiling and you are anxiously Kiambuiring or happening in Nax Vegas, who here is living life to the fullest? Is living life to the fullest an external event or an internal experience?
And then in comes the obsession to be loved. We collectively have this very odd – and rarely addressed – complex that unless we’re loved by everybody, we’re not worthy of love. Unless we’re the best, we’re not enough. Unless we’re being adventurous and reckless and revolutionary, we’re not doing anything at all. We’re not living life to the fullest we possibly can. We spend so much time (too much time) collecting evidence and combing through minutiae to prove to ourselves that the collective mindset toward us is a positive one. We are beautiful. We are loved. We are living because we’re doing what we’re taught is supposed to feel exciting and raw and real. We care more about what we perceive than how we actually feel.
Probably I have a disorder, I don’t see how talking about how good your life is relevant when you are drinking low end booze(anything costing 1k a litre and below), really bro? wake up, we are in this struggle together. To me the best days of my life were/are the ones in which I was exploring new joints and towns with the boys and spending time with my peeps, not when I handed in that term paper, or graduated, or did something else people perceive as extraordinary.
Well, am not saying there’s no merit in doing whatever you damn well please. If twerking makes you feel alive, good, I hope you send me your twerking clip soon. But it is to say that experiencing things to the fullest is not how much you do or have, it’s how aware you are of what you’re doing. So the next time you join me for a drink and start telling me about your silly life, you better be buying King George IV Whisky (that shit costs kedo 8k a tot by the way.… 🙂 ). Ok bye!….Ni hayo tu!