Concrete angel

On that day,He took mud

Made man a helper,

He didn’t have a manual,

Of the strong back,

Solid full heart,

A face firm and beautiful,

On that day she took the first blame

When the good man voiced:

The woman you gave me,

It been like that over the ages

With sons brothers lovers husbands and fathers,

The women are tagged tightly,

To that which they didn’t do much of,

They take up the blame with much grace,

Long live the concrete angels.

#5

I am every woman..in my next life I’ll live in a ravenhurst or a raven nest and have Whitney’s voice coupled up with Dolly’s spirit. Experts say Whitney had aced her art so much that even when she skipped or missed a key you either wouldn’t notice or she would pick up another and musk gracefully. March on..

I listened to Sarah Jakes preaching that resonated much to the message in this song. As a matter of fact I feel it should be played on the background whilst the summon gets on.

If Eve,the good woman and our first mother wouldn’t have eaten the accursed fruit we would be out in a beach wilding never having to worry about bills. We all would be vegans and with abs maybe. My vibrant mind is eloquent in pointing out the much we are missing out all thanks to the good woman. In the spirit of girl stuff and talk, I need to connect with Eve in an interview and see what really drove her. I have seen spiritual feminists put up a front in her defense that maybe she was hypnotized or framed and a lot other baseless angles. In her sermon Sarah said she too has questions for Eve. I know you too won’t lack a thing or two to ask her. The good woman takes all the blame for human suffering,typical of most moms nowadays, her back must hurt.

We like to identify and associate ourselves with the good things in life. We speak of having Esther’s kind of favour,Naomi’s insistence,Hannah’s diligence,being a proverbs 31 wife and that thing ladies praise in the queen of Sheba. So many themes are drawn from the above during women’s conferences and ladies proclaim the same .What about the good first mother? Not much. We don’t realise that we are so much like her. In our judgements,we are always revealing an unhealed part of ourselves and yes we are Eve. We have had so many moments where we knew better,were in a position to do better and whether deliberately or not didn’t do better,that’s Eve.

Alexa, play me some I am every woman. When we take up the good roles let’s not forget how our human nature can fail us terribly. Difference is with Eve her one misjudgement construed to generations later across the world and mine/yours may have one two only to bear. She aborted,she cheats,she’s alcoholic don’t judge because sis you’re sinning differently and yes you’re every woman Eve.

Nothing hard about how Hurd loves M

Chasing after you without a run

Yet in another pursuit

We couldn’t catch the sun before it set

We got so close,I could feel it

Then it withdrew the glam

And hid behind a cloud

When we got to the cloud

She wasn’t there, not even a print

Then all our playlists made sense

All the things terse by day

Come alive when she hides

When she rises again,well try again

To catch her or our dreams,or a picture with both

*Our dreams are a glass of wine against the golden curtain with a reflection of both on a pool

#4

So much behind schedule but well we here..Today’s pick is Alessia Cara’s Scars to your beautiful. I personally find the vocal chords in this song exuding a vibe of reckon making the song sound like a beautiful chant for ladies.

My own tale on this would be a perfect example of the magic in this powerful chant. The year was even and so was a lot of things around me. I met a boy,I loved a boy and was hurt by the boy. Yours truly was so much soaked in the chaos of a heartbreak and failed to realise the bloom of flowers around,the smell of rain and the thrill in her existence. I wish this story had a heroic turn where a girl is saved from her self in a perfect happily ever after telltale. My bestie who most of the people around me thought had eyes on me at that time sent me that song. I had my own very sad playlist on YT so it took me time before I gave this one an ear.

I listened to it dutifully like it was some anthem or a piece to be performed as a recital. The entire song is game_..she’s worthy of that beauty goes deeper than the surface_ this is what the class marches on with today. Regardless of the voices around and within, You’re totally worthy baby girl.

#3

Three little birds sat on my window
And they told me I don’t need to worry
Summer came like cinnamon, so sweet
Little girls, double-dutch on the concrete
Maybe sometimes we got it wrong, but it’s all right
The more things seems to change, the more they stay the same
Ooh, don’t you hesitate
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down
You’re gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow
Blue as the sky, sunburnt and lonely
Sipping tea in a bar by the road side
(Just relax, just relax)
Don’t you let those other boys fool you
Gotta love that Afro hairdo
Maybe sometimes we feel afraid, but it’s all right
The more you stay the same, the more they seem to change
Don’t you think it’s strange?
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down
You’re gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow
Just more than I could take
Pity for pity’s sake
Some nights kept me awake
I thought that I was stronger
When you gonna realize that you don’t even have to try any longer?
Do what you want to
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down
Girl, put your records on, tell me your favorite song
You go ahead, let your hair down
Sapphire and faded jeans
I hope you get your dreams
Just go ahead, let your hair down
Ooh, you’re gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow

Your favourite girl as voted by absolutely no one is marching on with you through this month. With songs for a girl to charge on and lyrics to keep at heart. Today’s pick is girl get your record on by**. We get it you was hurt,betrayed,lied to,cheated on and all those other bad things that should be punishable in a court of law(karma court is overworking) but girl get up and walk. And Jesus said …little girl walk. Sorry boys we’ll talk about the widow’s son next month. Girl, get UUP.

#2 Marching on

She’s been there, god knows she’s been there
She has seen and done it all
She’s a woman, she knows how to dish it out or take it all
Her heart’s as soft as feathers, still she weathers stormy skies
And she’s a sparrow when she’s broken
But she’s an eagle when she flies
A kaleidoscope of colours, you can toss her round and round
You can keep her in your vision, but you never keep her down
She’s a lover, she’s a mother, she’s a friend and she’s a wife
And she’s a sparrow when she’s broken
But she’s an eagle when she flies
Gentle as the sweet magnolia, strong as steel her faith and pride
She’s an everlasting shoulder, she’s a leading post of life
She hurts deep, and when she weeps, she’s just as fragile as a child
And she’s a sparrow when she’s broken
But she’s an eagle when she flies
She’s a sparrow when she’s broken
But she’s an eagle when she flies
Oh, bless her, Lord
She’s an eagle when she flies

I am consistent with my loving to Dolly Parton. I find her voice musical in conversations and angelic in singing. When I thought about what to write about women she was all over my mind. I had to make her calm down and not start with her lest I get tempted to write about her songs all through. Fast forward to this great piece she put up many years back. Strength of a woman is more than just a mantra for feminists. First teachers are mostly women. I am really itching to talk about the struggle they put up with but hey,raise a glass for those warriors. Sisters mamas,aunts,girlfriends,wives y’all are phenomenal and beyond.

Marching on

Hello March,

As we march on trying to match what could make sense and unmatching what’s not in our scope of reason and nerves,yours truly serves you a women’s exclusive. This being the month that sits Women’s day,by the power vested on me by absolutely no one, I declare this a women’s month. I have always wanted a prompt.,not that I won’t talk about period stories though. March on as we talk about issues girls ladies women in songs.

My girl Marren Morris takes us on that first wave with Girl. This is a song that speaks to a girl downtrodden to rise. It emphasizes on holding your head up and keeping your shine alive. It further brings to our attention that we all could grow and glow without interfering with each others spaces and halos.

Your crown don’t fit in my head

It’s a little too heavy to the sides

The spikes on it are a little too sharp

It’s kind of glitter isn’t my favourite

Not that I hate how you Queen

I don’t have to like it either

But that don’t block your sun

That don’t block your shine

We all have crowns anyway.

Thriving differently

My favourite lyrics has to be ..draw your comparisons,trying to find who’s lesser than.,I don’t wanna wear your crown, there’s enough to go around..

Girl get up and that halo vibrant.

A call to Mukono

Bread tastes better

The air is cleaner

Water is fresher

People friendlier

..tales of home

I grew up fast

And with such an insatiable

Appetite for finer things

I know boundaries can’t keep me

No matter how serene home feels

I always want to feel the breeze

Steps away from my cot

Maybe in my own cottage

Yearn for the house that built me

But still wilding and mastering

Arts and crafts beyond mama’s

One such moment,

One hot afternoon,

I make a call to Mukono

In a chase for something

Something to master.

The stain strain

We all the same but boy every period is different. The variation ranges from cramping to flow to moods and that I believe is what makes our differences special. We can talk about the science behind all the afore mentioned but yours truly is no specialist. Allow me to feed you with the much I have,generously, stories.

Any time I have a conversation around matters reproductive health,I feel sparked and graced with ideas to explore in writing. However, I have never gotten to the bold point of talking about period stains. They are very random. It is this randomness that make it touchy. I am okay with telling a lady to embrace the stain and change up but truth is it’s not easy. Any period time could be stain time,especially if you use sanitary towels. Ladies become very cautious about the stain. You get up and ask a random lady check if I have stained,hoping you haven’t. In case of a stain,the dictionary meaning of panic doesn’t really house how it feels. You’re at loss of how you’ll get a clean cloth to change without announcing to those around you that you have mapped your dress. Bless you soul,if the place is public…

I had a photoshoot one time. I wanted to look like a bukusu moana . Face check,hair check and to the main event,the dress cheque cheque. Everyday is a thighs day for me,bank that. In a nutshell,yours truly looked great .Peach dress by the beach. The shoot went well till when we had to wait for the sun to set. My patience was well checked too. Upon getting up,I had mapped big time. I had a black dress which I quickly changed to and forgot about serving thighs.

I strained to have the stain off the dress. Not literal. That dress is always stained to my eyes. The bomb pictures we took before the wait will be a great reminder.

Bv!

This is it

I was 14 and in form 2. My twin gazelles Chia and Shia as perky as most of my classmates but comparatively small .I was not bothered about it,insecurity is a faraway place I am yet to explore, especially on things I have no much power over. This kind of esteem has been a part of me ever since I could spell it correctly.

Most ladies,if not all,in my class had already premiered their red days. I was bothered just a little. This one fine morning after assembly I felt a heavy rush on my lower abdomen. No pain,no negative mood just one excited teen with a hurricane on that place now I hear them call baby pouch. I had waited for so long for my periods and somehow given up the wait. I rushed to the dormitory to pick a tissue,then I picked a sanitary towel too. In event that this hurricane happens to be the reds,thy servant is ready. Launch whatever you have.

Of course it was them. It had to be them. I changed my sanitary towel prudently after every two hours that day out of sheer excitement. I was finally a member of the pack. To date, I have never found a word for how that first time made me feel. What ensued was yet another close to six months wait which I was made to understand is totally okay. Every period catches me like that.,the rushing wind,the assumption then finally the guests.

I know nobody writes about periods like this. Plain,without facts just stories but folks this is it.

Bien venue!

Period series

I have had a whole load of ideas over what I can write about reproductive health. This productive idea was birthed during the quarantine days. I tried doing stories on the same over voice recordings to be lined in as podcasts then.. Here we are. I wrote to a media personality about the same too. My intention of saying these and the much I am about to add is to emphasize that I am a reproductive health enthusiast. Most established writers advice against overly diversifying your writing in the initial stages. It chokes your creativity they say. I guess I took that over diverse pill especially on this particular area of interest. I have been torn between covering it from ladies side then it hit me the men’s reproductive health is as virgin as it could ever get. It only gets audience in behind the door discussions with medical practitioners after thorough coercion from a close relation mostly of my gender. I thought of taking that angle and nailing the entrepreneurial dream of zero competition. Then the conflict of having it tackled from a backseat left perspective as a lady arose. Writing period stories that ain’t necessarily mine would guarantee content day in day out. Only limitation would be my willingness to write. I officially want to declare that I’ll be all out on this one. Multi faceted approach. We’ll kick out with mainly period stories from both sides of the divide then progress to any other that will arise along the way. Forgive me if I derail and tell stories about food.

Bien venue!

Puppy love

I will tell my baby girl about kisses when her boobs start to itch. I’ll tell her about the magic on her nips and areola. If she’s a lot like me I’ll tell her to expect a lot of madness but accept none of it. I’ll tell her to keep her head high,because it can’t ever get any worse. I’ll make her understand that rainy days are for planting seeds of love which sustain you through and through. Seeds of love need no garden,tools or expertise. They need nothing to grow,they just grow. I’ll need my daughter to know that she’s a child of love and should therefore never feel deprived of love or loved less for whichever the reason. I’ll be the kind of mom that makes her say affirmations in the morning. Once again relive my dad’s country tunes love and play Kenny –my dearest Kenny Rodgers –If you wanna find love,go looking at home. I’ll play this song so many times till when she learns to sing it by heart.

My current read is rarasaur mtgwritter Damian,Lilian the home poet and long reads. I have been doing my most on WordPress readership. Of course I have a hard copy that prompted this writ,Chicken soup for sports fan’s souls. I am reading it as a sports person trying to understand the fan’s perspective of the game and how they handle their balls in wins and in losses. It has unlocked the not so happy ending side of story telling but I still struggle to put it down.

I learnt that parents always want to relive fond memories through their children both the good ones and the otherwise. This otherwise is home for insecurity,traumas,regrets and wishes. In my initial years as a player I had vowed to make my kids like and play basketball. Luck on a girl who wrote this on sand,I take it back. I still insist on going out with ballers though.

My first boyfriend wasn’t a baller. He was nothing like sporty. He mentioned severally that he plays hockey. That is a lie I let him get away with just because. . Cute. Very cute,not the beholders kind of cute,actual overload of good features,save for height. He was as tall as my 14 year old self. We will talk some other day about how I tower over him now. He talked to me nicely, took my number and proceeded to text me later in the night. I shared a cell phone with my elder sister at that time so me and my good guy had agreed to remain as discrete as possible. I didn’t know I was falling for him until I was a good while away and couldn’t find my way back basically because I didn’t want to get back. The spark in my eyes,cheer in my smile,longing in my voice a girl was utterly smitten. Then we kissed..then we kissed again till the days when we stopped over absolutely nothing. That’s what I call faded.

Now I hope Mia likes dog’s. See my daughter already has a name,Mia. I’ll get her a puppy to love and to hold. It’s from this puppy that I’ll teach her about love. Puppy love for a puppy. Then she’ll grow with the love or the lesson. Both would be nice though. I want her to keep love alive even when it’s faded. I am running out of words and space to say.,just so she may not be damaged early like me.

Rant

In the last couple of weeks I have had my esteem tossed and turned. It’s beginning to sound a lot like 2019. First it was the industrial attachment issue.,I don’t understand why a company would turn down a willing,vibrant and fresh pair of helping hand. The whole fracas of interview, dress code and strict code of conduct to an employee you will not be paying is uncalled for. They give you a taste of what after school feel like if you devote fully to the system. All systems are bound to experience some jamming and the tarmacking for attachment is just a pinch from the main heap. Don’t get me wrong though I still keep keys which have long outlived there purposes. Keys to padlocks that don’t exist. Maybe one of them could unlock the mystery door that education is. Just maybe.

I have had my eyes on several prospects,from news agencies to radio and TV station to corporate organizations. To no avail because I am not well connected.,very sad. The few that offer to help and sound kind of genuine have a catch to it. As always the name of the game is expectation. Small village girl who wants to take the world by its lapels.

Away from the attachment fuss solidly stand the love of my life,basketball. You see that thing you love,you’ve given it so much power. Power to move,power to hurt too. I just said it,hurt, the most fluent emotion. After a week and a half of serious training at the basketball camp,there’s the icing serving. The big girls are headed to a camp in a resort close to the beach, away from town and yes there’s a little pocket money. AAll this perks your girl is left out just because..

It triggered thought of the things I have been losing in the recent past provoking a sense of not good enough. A voice of despair whispers not good enough..I sleep on it.

Then I remember we lose to gain but this girl Vivian loses good things for way better ones. Staying hopeful all day.

Before anything

Eat first

This is among my highest ranked rules. It’s unwritten because I believe it goes without saying. I see intestines and get a formed opinion about slimy sauce. Here’s a list of the times you should eat first..

  • Your girlfriend has sent you the we need to talk text,eat. Not grabbing a snack,eat.
  • Your boyfriend sounds a lot like in a foul mood and he’s coming to meet up,sis eat first
  • You have a confrontation with a partner,neighbour,nemesis eat before hand
  • You have a deal awaiting to be signed,or a big interview that could amount to a partnership,eat
  • You need to make a serious change in space or shift,eat
  • The list goes on cos you need to always eat first. An empty stomach harbours a lot it shouldn’t. Of course I’ll say my sick joke: so that you can stomach whatever comes

Most nights when I can’t curl up in your arms,

May I find a writ as warm as your embrace,

Those nights when I can’t drench in your sweat,

Pray I sip coffee from a cute customised cup,

If it had words written by you ,

The night will feel a lot like with you

If the words are for you

Guess it would be yet another moment to soak in thoughts

If the words are from you

It would serve fit as kisses on a cold gentle night

On nights when I can’t be on your chest,laps or beneath you

I hope I be gentle in your mind

Silent yet eloquent and audible

Cos boys don’t do that

Kick dust hard and run

Get chased down the road

Caught up in a fight,tough

Break a tooth a sprain too

It’s not too heavy,bear it

Keep the tears inside,suck in

Restrain emotions at all costs

Don’t raise your voice one bit

Cos boys don’t do that

Boys move in strength

Boys should be felt

And when they ain’t

They insist till when they are

They can’t shrink,or waver

Cos boys don’t do that

Now they become men

Drenched in toxicity

Eyes fixed on wrong targets

Or the right ones the wrong way

Scopes of reason inverted

Struggling to hold back

Because in all the reckon still beckons

–boys don’t do that…

Church like mine

My school(uni) is right across the country from home. The small girl in me has never spent a single Christmas away from home. Last year’s wasn’t going to be the first. Getting back to school means 24 hours on the road. Bitter sweet journey. Sweet because of all the snacking and lone time to curl up in a book or blogs but sitting down for that long while isn’t funny. Remember that crammed space is still your sleeping space when night falls,that is the greatest downside for me.

On my way to school,must have been around Nakuru,I saw a fleet of churches. They were well sited right beside each other. And I was hurt..because church has officially become a business.

I have gone partying with my friends, at times because I wanted to but most times because I didn’t have much for a choice. When the litness* in one joint fades a little we send an entourage to check out the other close by clubs and advice if we should move. Mostly we move back and forth and by twilight we could easily have hopped into three clubs or split. This variance in degree of lit is present because competition is paramount in that line of business. Hopping is a seductive option because we have a lot to pick from.,we are young and so is the night.

Seeing so many churches that close together brought the hopping idea loud in my mind. Each church appeals different. Others have special treatment for new members, others have a great reputation of followups,others have the Marren Morris’ My Church kind of vibe — Hank leads the sermon Cash leads the choir and a lot other appeals.

Church as a body is supposed to reach out to masses unsaved and evangelize. It’s not of much benefit to move a congregation from one building to another,the gospel of truth is the same all over.

Back to that hopping idea,there’s always something people are looking for,finding their high,or cheaper drinks or have been chased by bouncers,or some because their friends moved. The other option is also readily available and willing to take in. Proximity is such a darling.

Let’s not make churches like this. Properly scout for a place where your soul will be nourished to avoid hopping by the slightest convincing.

Because dream come true

Every time I stall in writing I get a sense of pile up. It feels clogged inside,looking for a better way to express it.. See how tears well up in the eyes when you hold them back then suddenly when you can’t they burst the banks open? That is the feeling. Then there is the guilt that at times is overwhelming,all other things I love to do somehow get done why not writing?

Today marks four days into a four year old dream. Basketball dream. I had always wanted to play basketball in the big girls league. In my freshman year,I questioned why the dockers, a team of such big repute didn’t recruit good players from my college team. That was when the dream came alive,to one time play for the dockers. Their style of play is magical. Speed,sass,strength and all the beautiful s that could describe a game. I want to say I worked really hard but that would be a lie. I was consistent on the dream and a little well directed effort. One little side note,I am very coachable willing to learn and ask from anyone I felt was fit to help.

In my sophomore year,I got more confidence. I was crowned MVP in a ladies tournament. Getting a reward for something you love is a great honour. Fast forward to 2019 when I was now noted by someone I see around my dream team. The management then offered to start a junior team and I was in it. Happiness. Still not the dream but close enough. The junior team competed at division 1,a league second to premier league,my dream. Our coaches insisted on this junior being a feeder team to the senior. This is when now I worked. When the season ended our team was disbanded and the dream came alive. I was promoted to the Big girl’s league. In a year that a lot of things stalled,one good thing happened to me,I signed with the dockers. That’s how 2020 is engraved in my mind.

I didn’t get to train with them until early this year which is a week ago. Every word that describes intensity,that’s how we train. Willing coach and even more willing players makes training such a thing to look up to.

On the first day, I struggled with my breath much but adjusted real quick on the second day. My muscles were sore. Stretched on yoga and rested on the fact that this is what I dreamt of. Third day us defense day. I am not very defensive. I had trouble almost the whole time,but the dream has to live on. So on the fourth we adjust and move. Dream on,they come true. Once it does,it need to be fanned to stay alive.

With love..

For what’s worth,I believe I can sing

I choose not to listen to any otherwise voice

Sometimes I dance too

But at my best I write and write,and read too

I cruise through books

With certain tinge of familiarity

Aligning with characters beyond favourite tag

Creating in my head happy endings

To chapters and Lines of poetry

Soaking duly in Optimism

I know within a Valid scope

Lies energy and Effort to love

Body buddy

I had wanted to call this body appreciation post,or apology with a cool accompaniment. Buddy is all we have for now so buddy goes.

I realised she likes me when I added a decade to the one I had. I had never given her the much attention until I realised she was all I had. She didn’t demand or get dramatic at it. She quietly watched me mess with her. All she ever did was respond appropriately. One of the greatest lessons she’s given me this year is you lose to gain. She never allows room for a vacuum. I have also noted how spontaneous she is in her responses. I get back what I give to her. While writing this Lil Wayne’s Mirror on the wall bang at the back of my mind. I am talking about the girl in the mirror.

2020 has been heavy for a whole lot of reasons. But it has brought it’s fair share of opportunities too. I didn’t earn much to say the least but I learnt much. All this learning need me to give an apology to empress.

I apologize for putting you in paths I could clearly have avoided.

I apologize for holding back when I had chances to let it all out.

I apologize for putting pressure on you over things I didn’t need.

I apologize for breaking rules we agreed to live by and defend fiercely.

I apologize for stocking bad vibes when I had trash option.

I apologize for the bruises,cuts,unwarranted harm,debts,lies,torture,trauma that I exposed you too.

Most importantly,forgive me for taking in people I shouldn’t have looked their way.

In making all this apologies I don’t intend to align them to resolutions or anything of that kind. I just want to ease my heart and remind me that my greatest enemy has never been an outside source. This also helps me keep tabs and feel responsible over my body. This body that talks.

Cruising through sapphire(2020 diary) I noticed many credits less rebuke. Apologies ma’. Great to have you as mine and for being the truest human angel I know. My full heart wishes you a happy new year.

Minutes – Insights from the internet’s brightest minds.
Minutes – Insights from the internet’s brightest minds.

BUSINESSThese 4 Habits Are To Thank For My Professional Writing Career

Published 1 year ago on October 3, 2019By Maria Cassano

Exactly a decade ago, I was sitting in my high-school guidance counselor’s office for a mandatory meeting about college. When she asked where I was in the process, I told her I’d already applied to four schools. I’d also already decided on a major: English.

“Are you planning on being a teacher?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I’m going to be a writer.”

She forced a smile. “That’s a lovely dream, but you should really have a back-up. English teachers get paid pretty well and they get summers off.”

It’s 10 years later, and (knock on wood) I’ve never needed that back-up. I got my degree in English, and save one short stint waiting tables, I’ve managed to make a steady living solely as a professional writer.

It wasn’t without effort. It required a lot of rejected job applications, a ton of pro-bono work, and several more conversations just like that one.

But it wasn’t as impossible as everyone made it out to be.

It seems that a professional writing career is still considered a pipe dream, and in my experience, that’s because good advice is limited. Yeah, “write every day” and “get a blog” are a good place to start, but those habits don’t necessarily make you a better writer—or a more hirable one.

These are the habits that actually launched my writing career:

1: Say “yes” to every writing job that comes your way—even if you’re clueless.
The first real writing job I landed was for a “staff commerce affiliate contributor,” and prior to the offer, I had no idea what that meant. I’d applied to be a lifestyle writer, and the publication offered that instead.

My first instinct was to turn it down. If I didn’t even understand the job title, how the hell was I supposed to do the job?

Luckily, desperation overpowered instinct. I took it.

As it turned out, the job was simply writing about products, and the more I did it, the more I loved it. I didn’t realize it then, but tons of publications were jumping on the e-commerce bandwagon, and as one of the only new writers with affiliate experience, I had opened myself up to loads of opportunities.

In this industry, a versatile portfolio is power. The more genres you can cover, the more pertinent samples you have for future jobs.

Even if you’re clueless about a particular opportunity, don’t let doubt get in your way. I’ve said yes to countless other jobs since, and full disclosure: for most of them, I was going in blind.

As the investor and business magnate Richard Branson says, “If somebody offers you an amazing opportunity but you are not sure you can do it, say yes—then learn how to do it later.”

And in this day and age, we’ve got everything we need to learn later. Don’t have a writer’s bio? Google it. Can’t edit a hero image? There are Youtube tutorials. Not sure how to format an APA article? The internet is filled with examples.

In other words, when it comes to a professional writing career, it’s easier than ever to fake it ‘til you make it.

2: Read everything you write out loud.
It’s a good thing I work from home, because if I didn’t, my coworkers would murder me. I read absolutely everything I write out loud: full articles, e-mail drafts, tweets, you name it.

Yes, you’re more likely to catch mistakes and clunky word choices, but it’s more than that. Good writing has a certain cadence to it. The brain analyzes human speech with the same circuits it uses to perceive music, and when you read a sentence out loud, you instantly know whether or not that cadence is there.

You can immediately tell it’ll resonate with people—like the first time you hear a catchy song.

Reading your work out loud is also a solid way to find your voice. It may sound alright in your head, but if it rolls off your tongue and you think, “Yeah, I’d never say that,” you know it’s revision-time.

3. Learn to view creative writing through a business-oriented lens.
I’m a writer who was raised by two professional musicians, so I can say this with conviction: Creative people get a really bad rap.

We’re seen as unmotivated, unorganized, willing to work for free, and ridiculously bad with time-management. People also assume we smoke a lot of marijuana, for some reason.

Maybe these stereotypes exist because, in some cases, they’re true. Maybe people with creative skills do favor the right side of the brain over the left, which makes it difficult for them to plan ahead. As a result, they don’t always make great employees.

But if you want a professional writing career, it’s your job to discredit all those stereotypes.

Hand in your articles hours before the deadlines. Regularly update your resume, LinkedIn, portfolio, and personal website. Genuinely prepare for each and every interview, even if it’s a quick call with a potential freelance client. And check your e-mails and respond to them promptly, even on weekends. (I can’t tell you how many times I landed a job not because I was the most qualified, but because I was the quickest to reply.)

Take yourself as seriously as you would if you were a banker, a doctor, a CEO—because that’s going to dictate how seriously other people take you.

Keep in mind: employers probably won’t hire you to pen your personal memoir on your own time. In order to get paid for your writing, it needs to be lucrative for someone else, too. That means there will be rules, expectations, style guides, and time limits.

But when you learn to treat writing as a business, it’ll start to pay like a business.

4: Stay optimistic. There are more opportunities than you realize.
Every single day, I wake up grateful that I was born in this time period, and not just because I’m a woman who aspires to own land one day.

The internet is the largest means of communication in the entire world. 55.7% of the internet is in English, and the vast majority of that is made up of written content. Now more than ever before, your skills as a writer are in-demand and lucrative.

Every company with a web presence needs someone who can articulate their mission. Anyone who tweets, Instagrams, or posts on Facebook could use someone who knows how to spell. Personal branding is everything nowadays, and that all starts with a well-worded idea.

In fact, recent studies show that hiring managers are now prioritizing creativity over all other soft skills—because while machines can do a lot of things, they still can’t do that.

Just last week, a recruiter reached out to me on LinkedIn. She works for one of the most prominent hospitals in my area, and they’re looking to fill several dozen writer and editor roles within the next year. A hospital wants people to run a blog for them, because right now, creative, human-curated content is how you stand out, no matter the industry.

Don’t let anyone tell you that a professional writing career is impossible. It’ll take work and dedication, same as anything else, but in today’s world, it’s more likely than ever before.

RELATED TOPICS:CREATIVE WRITINGFEATUREDHOW TO BE A WRITERPROFESSIONAL WRITERPROFESSIONAL WRITING CAREER
TOP 10

PERSONAL GROWTH2 months agoDedicated Creative Time Makes You Happier, Smarter, And More Emotionally Aware: 4 Things You Can Do

FUTURE2 months ago3 Things To Keep In Mind When Creating Innovative Products In 2021 And Beyond

BUSINESS3 months agoFocusing On Efficiencies In 2021: 6 Small Things You Can Do To Modernize Your Business

PEOPLE3 months agoLooking For A New Job? Here Are 3 Ways To Get Your Foot In The Door (Written By An SVP At SAP)

BUSINESS3 months agoStarting An Ecommerce Company? Ask These 3 Questions To Determine Whether Retail Should Be Part Of Your Strategy

BUSINESS2 months agoThe Art Of Interviewing: 4 Traits Potential Candidates Need To Show In Order To Be Hired
Copyright © 2019

Minutes – Insights from the internet’s brightest minds.
Minutes – Insights from the internet’s brightest minds.

BUSINESSThese 4 Habits Are To Thank For My Professional Writing Career

Published 1 year ago on October 3, 2019By Maria Cassano

Exactly a decade ago, I was sitting in my high-school guidance counselor’s office for a mandatory meeting about college. When she asked where I was in the process, I told her I’d already applied to four schools. I’d also already decided on a major: English.

“Are you planning on being a teacher?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I’m going to be a writer.”

She forced a smile. “That’s a lovely dream, but you should really have a back-up. English teachers get paid pretty well and they get summers off.”

It’s 10 years later, and (knock on wood) I’ve never needed that back-up. I got my degree in English, and save one short stint waiting tables, I’ve managed to make a steady living solely as a professional writer.

It wasn’t without effort. It required a lot of rejected job applications, a ton of pro-bono work, and several more conversations just like that one.

But it wasn’t as impossible as everyone made it out to be.

It seems that a professional writing career is still considered a pipe dream, and in my experience, that’s because good advice is limited. Yeah, “write every day” and “get a blog” are a good place to start, but those habits don’t necessarily make you a better writer—or a more hirable one.

These are the habits that actually launched my writing career:

1: Say “yes” to every writing job that comes your way—even if you’re clueless.
The first real writing job I landed was for a “staff commerce affiliate contributor,” and prior to the offer, I had no idea what that meant. I’d applied to be a lifestyle writer, and the publication offered that instead.

My first instinct was to turn it down. If I didn’t even understand the job title, how the hell was I supposed to do the job?

Luckily, desperation overpowered instinct. I took it.

As it turned out, the job was simply writing about products, and the more I did it, the more I loved it. I didn’t realize it then, but tons of publications were jumping on the e-commerce bandwagon, and as one of the only new writers with affiliate experience, I had opened myself up to loads of opportunities.

In this industry, a versatile portfolio is power. The more genres you can cover, the more pertinent samples you have for future jobs.

Even if you’re clueless about a particular opportunity, don’t let doubt get in your way. I’ve said yes to countless other jobs since, and full disclosure: for most of them, I was going in blind.

As the investor and business magnate Richard Branson says, “If somebody offers you an amazing opportunity but you are not sure you can do it, say yes—then learn how to do it later.”

And in this day and age, we’ve got everything we need to learn later. Don’t have a writer’s bio? Google it. Can’t edit a hero image? There are Youtube tutorials. Not sure how to format an APA article? The internet is filled with examples.

In other words, when it comes to a professional writing career, it’s easier than ever to fake it ‘til you make it.

2: Read everything you write out loud.
It’s a good thing I work from home, because if I didn’t, my coworkers would murder me. I read absolutely everything I write out loud: full articles, e-mail drafts, tweets, you name it.

Yes, you’re more likely to catch mistakes and clunky word choices, but it’s more than that. Good writing has a certain cadence to it. The brain analyzes human speech with the same circuits it uses to perceive music, and when you read a sentence out loud, you instantly know whether or not that cadence is there.

You can immediately tell it’ll resonate with people—like the first time you hear a catchy song.

Reading your work out loud is also a solid way to find your voice. It may sound alright in your head, but if it rolls off your tongue and you think, “Yeah, I’d never say that,” you know it’s revision-time.

3. Learn to view creative writing through a business-oriented lens.
I’m a writer who was raised by two professional musicians, so I can say this with conviction: Creative people get a really bad rap.

We’re seen as unmotivated, unorganized, willing to work for free, and ridiculously bad with time-management. People also assume we smoke a lot of marijuana, for some reason.

Maybe these stereotypes exist because, in some cases, they’re true. Maybe people with creative skills do favor the right side of the brain over the left, which makes it difficult for them to plan ahead. As a result, they don’t always make great employees.

But if you want a professional writing career, it’s your job to discredit all those stereotypes.

Hand in your articles hours before the deadlines. Regularly update your resume, LinkedIn, portfolio, and personal website. Genuinely prepare for each and every interview, even if it’s a quick call with a potential freelance client. And check your e-mails and respond to them promptly, even on weekends. (I can’t tell you how many times I landed a job not because I was the most qualified, but because I was the quickest to reply.)

Take yourself as seriously as you would if you were a banker, a doctor, a CEO—because that’s going to dictate how seriously other people take you.

Keep in mind: employers probably won’t hire you to pen your personal memoir on your own time. In order to get paid for your writing, it needs to be lucrative for someone else, too. That means there will be rules, expectations, style guides, and time limits.

But when you learn to treat writing as a business, it’ll start to pay like a business.

4: Stay optimistic. There are more opportunities than you realize.
Every single day, I wake up grateful that I was born in this time period, and not just because I’m a woman who aspires to own land one day.

The internet is the largest means of communication in the entire world. 55.7% of the internet is in English, and the vast majority of that is made up of written content. Now more than ever before, your skills as a writer are in-demand and lucrative.

Every company with a web presence needs someone who can articulate their mission. Anyone who tweets, Instagrams, or posts on Facebook could use someone who knows how to spell. Personal branding is everything nowadays, and that all starts with a well-worded idea.

In fact, recent studies show that hiring managers are now prioritizing creativity over all other soft skills—because while machines can do a lot of things, they still can’t do that.

Just last week, a recruiter reached out to me on LinkedIn. She works for one of the most prominent hospitals in my area, and they’re looking to fill several dozen writer and editor roles within the next year. A hospital wants people to run a blog for them, because right now, creative, human-curated content is how you stand out, no matter the industry.

Don’t let anyone tell you that a professional writing career is impossible. It’ll take work and dedication, same as anything else, but in today’s world, it’s more likely than ever before.

RELATED TOPICS:CREATIVE WRITINGFEATUREDHOW TO BE A WRITERPROFESSIONAL WRITERPROFESSIONAL WRITING CAREER
TOP 10

PERSONAL GROWTH2 months agoDedicated Creative Time Makes You Happier, Smarter, And More Emotionally Aware: 4 Things You Can Do

FUTURE2 months ago3 Things To Keep In Mind When Creating Innovative Products In 2021 And Beyond

BUSINESS3 months agoFocusing On Efficiencies In 2021: 6 Small Things You Can Do To Modernize Your Business

PEOPLE3 months agoLooking For A New Job? Here Are 3 Ways To Get Your Foot In The Door (Written By An SVP At SAP)

BUSINESS3 months agoStarting An Ecommerce Company? Ask These 3 Questions To Determine Whether Retail Should Be Part Of Your Strategy

BUSINESS2 months agoThe Art Of Interviewing: 4 Traits Potential Candidates Need To Show In Order To Be Hired
Copyright © 2019

Champ

I think about this guy almost as much as I think about food. For the record,I think about food every three hours after a fill. I am still confident enough to say I don’t eat a lot,I mean,do you see any evidence on me? No.

Champ has played a pivotal role in my life from the time I knew him. He’s easy to love and even easier to please. You could be on a random errand around the house which in turn melts his heart heavy. This same person has been an inspiration to most of my writings. He usually is the first interviewee if I need another voice in discussions. He’s not a great reader but he goes through the blogs and compliments . His corrections also sound so much like love gestures too.

While coming up with this compilation he was all over this girl. I called him my kitten as I massaged through his hair,flashing smiles. You know how kittens get stubborn when they want attention, that’s champ for me. Broad shoulders,cool composed voice and poise rugged hair but still demands some loving like a helpless domesticated feline.

He brings out a side of me I didn’t know existed. I have such a capacity to love,you can tell from my very bold broad smile. But I didn’t know I could be as forgiving as well until we fell apart. I find it easier to forgive,all thanks to Champ. Close this year,big boy.

Hello consistency,sorry I failed to meet my cut of the pact. I take all the blame responsibly. This doesn’t stop me however from sharing one thin reason for my inconsistency, authors block. The motivation to write has been alive and ripe throughout the entire posed to be Thanksgiving period . I am not the type to ever lack words,not in talking or writing. When at my best I am unselective and generous with my talks and writs. My worst is still a pinch above an average introvert. This serves as an apology and reassurance, I’ll write right away.

An injury changes something about you. Physical hurt may alter how you look,walk,talk among other things then there’s the brain that memorizes the pain and gets you all cautious whenever you are facing anything close to how you got hurt. This has been the story of my life for two months now. When my energy is clean I see things,beyond basic vibrations. On this particular day I didn’t want to do layups on the left side of the court. The floor isn’t safe,mark you I have trained here for four months or so,but this day felt different. The coach insisted on us doing the left side lays then we played. I had dribbled passed and shot the fear away. Just when we were about to be done for the day,my ankle twisted. This is one injury yours truly dreads. I put some ice init then proceeded to train in a better court. In just one simple mishap the ankle twisted again and that was it. It swell and became very painful. I began to think about all the injury stories I know of,how bad basketball injuries especially ankles can get. I took a month of before entering myself again . It has never felt the same again. My normal comfortable bounce feels strained,instantaneous turns are such a luxury now. Then it hit me,the vulnerability is lost.

I haven’t been alone with her in a a long time

We blame it on circumstances yielded under noble course

She has her limits close to my naught and curiosity

She likes citrus I like spices and every other thrill without satires

Now that we are alone for long,we’ll take turns

To blend juices and make deuces

Then maybe we can blend and gel

Beetroot is rumoured to be a blood booster

Well we’ll blend and share a glass

Just so we can boost our blood and get a pint familiar

My body likes to tell me things.,sometimes it even disagrees with my mind.

My body wants attention because my body is a baby

My body asks questions and sees things

My body gets angry,then begins to act and react

My body is afraid of change but reeks revolution;it says I want more sugar directly to my veins,then a bloat follows soon after. It says look for money,we need money then withdraws from the scene. It says if we hit the gym we will be better at basketball then sink in to thinking about how bad broadened shoulders look. It says we need to weight up,then insists we should wait up and weigh it up a little.

My body is a temple,my body is a zoo. Sometimes we worship but most times we are empty. The animals come to life and fight then they sleep. Some animals come to character and overpower others almost always. Then put up a fierce façade. My body is a book my body is a muse. The codes change but the message still remains. The cover page is still as appealing as it was when it was published in the late years of the last century. The muse delights in simple pleasures and loves the setting of the sun. The muse is open to ideas which only happen in the virtual tours.

This body is golden when dull and regally tanned when the sun is overhead. This body..

Survivor series

This is my narration of the little things which meant a lot, things I barely survived through. Weekends are for basketball,free days are for basketball and when the need is ripe,weekdays are for basketball. In a busy week of work without pay,million worries,thousands of cares and hundred over expectations an off day is a basketball day. I forgot my phone inside dad’s bag. Unsure of when he’ll get back I decide to follow him to the bus stage. I didn’t catch up. I had to wait a whole hour tops at the bus stage in my training kits. I sighed when I was handed over the phone. Training starts now. I was almost soaking in when a kid stops and tells us,the guy who was here moments ago has stolen a phone from that bag and points at my bag. The same phone that had me waiting a whole morning away. Flame(coach) and I follow him. Yes we caught up and he beat him dirty,just one blow though from a black belt holder is dirty. It’s the same phone I am writing on this piece. Grateful to God .

  • I left home in the beginning of November headed to school to sit for my exams. The journey was different. The government had banned night travel,which meant we had to sleep on the road*. It takes 16 solid hours to travel from home to school. I didn’t have a house in Mombasa which translates to refugee on the move the entire exam period. Not having a stable source of income,or any whatsoever made it even worse. I survived regardless, on God.
  • My big sister is a figure before me,one that I don’t frequently look up to. Not because she’s wrong in her choice of paths,she’s just on the other side of the road

    and traffic is heavy

    and we are headed to different directions

    and we wired differently

    and our intentions clash

    we argue over opinions

    over the largest piece of melon

    over my teenage baby sis

    how her moods are a bother

    I say

    She’s an adolescent

    Who feels ready to take on the world

    When her palms are barely a size

    To handle house chores fast enough

    Her body lies,big small sister

    My big sister does routines

    And takes after mama

    In looks and character

    If there’s one thing I wouldn’t doubt

    Is how much she loves us

    Thank you Van

    Ode to my youth

    I want to mention early that the title is stolen from a piece from one of my favourite female veteran ballers, Lisa Leslie. Basketball. There’s a lot I can say about this game. From the much love I have for it, to the heights it has seen me soar to. Might not be so high but it sure leaves fond memories. Some which I doubt will ever be challenged by any thing ever.

    This piece comes in at a time when I had high expectations; of how this game was going to season my Christmas broth,how it was going to get me home nice and easy and this coming weekend was going to be my premiere game in the big girl’s league. The excitement was however extinguished when the list came out and yours truly was not in it. All my plans and hopes came crumpling down in one very neat pile. I know this won’t last, I’ll get to the beach and have all this feeling wisped off my throat.

    This frustration won’t stop me from acknowledging how great this game has been to a girl. It gave me friends who became family,friends to kill for,first time ever huge money chunk,trips across the country.,i loved the game and it loved me back. Gave me a partner,doe eyes. The athleticism that is required of me as a player has always been a reminder to keep fit and I believe it has always done the same with my mental fitness.

    Thanking people who won’t see isn’t far from thanking things. This doesn’t make it less necessary. Basketball,thank you for keeping me sane and happy on muddy days .

    Series2

    Writing about hearts of gold 1 was an experience I have not had in a long time. I promised to try out this thing called consistency. I was two minutes shy sleeping or even less then it hit me that if I didn’t publish anything yesterday that would mean a 48 hours tops streak of missing in action. I woke up and managed a paragraph of thanks, which I decided would be in series. It felt like rushing home to beat curfew or last quarter of a seesaw game. I feel proud of the somewhat messy passage that I managed.

    I felt the pressure I believe gets every young adult to get a source of income whether stable or not, one that can help sooth their excesses. Job hunting feels different if it’s not purposeful. I went to a local TV station which turned me down in the most polite way possible. Then I decided to pay a visit to an old restaurant with a big vision and heart to restore it’s glory. Small talk with the small manager who instructed me to draft a proposal of my ideas which she would forward to the patrons and chairman. Bureaucracy is that you? My excitement could not fit in my body,I shared it with anyone I felt could handle it with me.

    Karen Matete,that’s the name of the small kind manager. She gave me a call later to remind me to include the estimates of my proposal,I felt honoured. The post I was looking for can fit under PR officer or social media influencer in a posher place. This slot wasn’t available but Karen did what Karen did. I was to start getting paid a retainer salary of 9000. Not a lot but quite something for a nonexistent post. School happened which meant the job ends but that lady Karen,still engages me in getting her minutes in meetings. She believes in me like that.,unwarranted. Thank you Karen.

    Heartsofgold

    Writing to someone or about someone who won’t ever read that piece hits different. You have fond memories well cherished and tucked in but it stays with you. Reasons holding the recipient away from the signed cheques vary. This variation is not important neither is it subject to my discussion today. I am here for the great impacts from minor sources that yielded a mustard tree.

    On my way to school one time I sat next to someone who said  a lot; from the political temperature to advice on relationships. Then he talked about how he feels a conviction that I’ll be great. That didn’t mean much at that time but in my struggling early twenties when I need a word to fall back to he don’t fail to top the list. He said I should never forget that I’ll be great. His name is well faded and so is his face but his words come to live more often than not. #series 1

    By the time I settle on writing about this,I am yet to decide what title best fits. This becomes one of the rare moments when yours truly writes on despite having a solid reason to wait a little. Mama and I share a relation close to the one above. We rarely ever in the best of terms,not that we quarrel. We alternate on feeling good about this or that. My kind of liberal thinking clashes at a focal point with her flatfooted, old school reasoning. She mostly is very rigid in considerations and suggestions and stays headstrong to a stubborn extent. Mama is firm. I am too. But she’s the queen,she has to call the shots.

    I see pictures and stories of mothers and their daughters twinning and goaling sprawled on the internet. Not mine,you don’t dress like her ever. You like her top? It can easily be yours for good. That shoe,you like it? You have it. You think her belt is beautiful, keep it. The narrative changes when it’s her turn to receive. Her choosy eyes scream a bold no even before she tries on whatever it is you bought her. Worse still she can pick it and never have it on.

    On a month like this I am grateful for the discipline. I may have missed out on having a mom who’s my bestie,but I have one that is a Mother. Strict, old school and very passionate. I don’t confide in her but I learn a lot with admiration from her. Thank you mama for the warm,timely meals and tough love.

    FLAME*

    I put an asterisk on that title because it’s subject to change. I intend to have it altered to a Latin version of that word. I know as much about Latin as I know mathematics. Perhaps the Latin scale is even a notch higher. That explains why a lot of things don’t add up to me and I rarely ever make calculated moves.

    Flame is a feeling,flame is a person. It takes a whole load of courage and deliberations to write about this. Here’s why. I met flame a couple of months ago. Solid enough to sit a year but because I don’t see him every other month let’s cut it down to months. He doesn’t strike me as someone we would click and start making the long calls into the night,the one I’ll talk to about my fears and insecurities without being judged or loved less. Flame and I have strictly professional interactions,basketball. He is my coach. I talk to him in between drills,respond to his dark humour with my extremely dark humour and appreciate the much confidence he had in me.

    As a player,having a coach that believes you can do things you’re quite unsure of is divine. Bring me my crown please. Then we veer off the game,I notice he’s pushing me a lot more and texts too. I am good at returning the energy I get so I take a ride. I’ll let you know about the day I lost my phone and he became the hero in my story,insert doe eyes. Fast forward to a few weeks later I begin to talk to fLame a lot more often. He gasses me up about my looks (I am not all that) and then we hook up by the riverside and talk the evening away.

    He qualifies to my Thanksgiving list because he’s a newcomer with so much energy. He knows a lot of distorted truths and neat lies about me for someone I haven’t known for long. I feel safe because that embrace is warm and it makes me forget to hold myself back. I am here for who flame is,not what he can do. I hope the embers last the long cold nights. Thank you for putting me to perspective and being my go to person .Pick a love, a heart or a girl on your way out.

    Thanksgiving

    I have wanted to be consistent with my writing for a while now. To myself and everyone who cares to listen I am a writer. A fiery writer that compares to a lion in the least but in essence it feels like a cat rained on . I have broken the unwritten golden rule of existence: positivity. But I believe in the truth and if my truth is negative the only way I can get to work on it is if I admit to it being a flaw.

    New month means new energy. As though it won’t be the same people that broke rules over the last weekend of the month. Ain’t we the same people who make promises and vows,resolutions and directives which we completely disregard without a tinge of shame or guilt? It’s good to dream and keep the hope of change alive,that right there prompted this writing.

    Over this month I’ll share my Thanksgiving and appreciation posts to everyone that has brought change my way. Those that pushed me to move,those that moved me on a daily basis. Papsy has to top the list. My dad is a teacher. I avoid writing about him because,if I make it a habit,he’ll end up being subject in all my writ ups. Not like it’s a bad thing,quite the opposite.

    My dad is a voice in my head. He supports most if not everything I do. The weird thoughts that no one gets,he’ll gladly take them up without question. To every not so good decision I make there is the other reasoning that allows me not to beat my self about it. That other side,that bright note is who papsy is. He switches up gears pretty fast. One moment he’s badass bossy and the father then in another he’s a father. He teaches even when I am not paying attention. He has a willingness to repeat a concept over and over without getting enraged. I write love letters to him on father’s day and hero’s day,on world teacher’s day too.

    I am grateful to my dad for being a great dad and friend. One of the prized lessons he’s taught me is to fight. This will be a great motivation throughout this writty month. He didn’t teach me how to fight,he taught me to know when to fight. Sometimes the best response to a fight is peace. I argue with that last bit and I am convinced that I am not alone in that. I hope that you’ll understand the art of war as this year winds up. Raise that toast to my ole man.

    How I want to die

    Everything that has life eventually loses it. Sometimes untimely and other times not. Those who I refer to as not untimely,especially humans, are those whose eulogies usher us in with A life well lived. Lately I have been intrigued by conversations about death. I have engaged a few friends and acquaintances and one thing stood out,people don’t really think or talk about death.

    In a random sitting, one fine evening I ask someone who I had met just that evening how he wants to die. The look he gave me was proof that this was the first time he ever got asked this question. We have envisioned how we want to live. We make plans of where we want to live. After a long day at work, you’ll want to get home and just rest. This explains what death is in a much simpler way. Living is a hustle, constant conquering and creating trouble as we move. Death is rest from a long day at work( lifetime). I really wish people could make peace with their own death and actually talk about it often. Here goes my death day design;

    When do I want to die? I may not know when exactly I want to die. It is for this reason that I made a bracelet engraved with the words respera. This is a Latin word to mean breath. Every time I look at it I am reminded of life. I am certain I won’t die today. If the choice lies entirely with me,I don’t want to die tomorrow either. I want to breath . Not today and not tomorrow,beyond that it’s pure grace.

    How do I want to die? Not water please. I can’t swim. When my friends and I go to a swimming pool or to the beach,I keep my safe distance from the water. In a swimming pool setting if I am not on the very shallow end then you’ll find me on the baby poolside,without an ounce of shame– I say this because I have quite a body. Fire is a nightmare,I am not walking around with scarred skin in my after life. My love for travelling makes accidents a flirty option but I’ll leave it at that. It’s a pity that in all the possible ways one can die I can’t settle on a single way and feel comfortable about it.

    Where do I want to die? They say find what you love and let it kill you. This is one very expensive joke. Why would I want to die in a basketball court? How do I die in bed? I love Italy. Of course I’ll go there someday. But I don’t ever think of passing on while in Rome. I need to get back and write about the hills and all the great pasta I’ll eat during my visit. Space remains the only valid place I have in mind.

    When buying something you need,you don’t think seriously about ever losing it. This doesn’t stop you from losing it anyway. It could take a long while but you’ll still lose it. You don’t limit usage because of this. In a nutshell,life is for the living,so live before you die.