This Chic: This is not my year, I give up.

And anyone who wants to get in line please do.
Every once in a while I hear someone scream 'this is my year y'all better watch out!!!'

Ok
I tried it, when I was 25 I said to myself ' this is your year, it has to be.'
And I got into a frenzy Doing this and that.

I was straight out of Digital Film Uni and I had an ego from here to Cyberjaya.
And in my first job interview, for a editing post I said I preferred to be an assistant editor. He didn't get why, but I got the job in 20 minutes.

I had spank but I was holding back a lot.
I wanted to tame my ego and my feelings of entitlement.

I also didn't  have any enthusiasm
For the work, writing about furniture wasn't exactly my main goal in life.

I just wanted to write books.
I wanted East African Book Publishers to call me and ask if I could work as a tea girl. Then I would interact with writers at lunchtime and sneak in my manuscript to a friendly editor one day and she would read it and be amazed that a tea girl could write so well and she would say
'We must get this published.'

And we would co-write a book and soon I would be signing my book at Sarit Centre.


After three months I asked if I could work as a staff writer, which they agreed and I moved from Nairobi thinking how I would wow them with my articles about 'Neglected colonial houses'
Or
'Colonial houses that would be as good as new with a bit of coating'

'The white highlands' monuments'

Blah blah

I was the only one interested in run down wooden structures from the past but I told the stories to my family and they laughter a lot .

Especially about one that was formerly a honeymoon getaway but now occupied by a religious minister and his wife.  When I had asked what the house was used for before he looked this way and that and shaking his head in sorrow  he said ' it had been used for unholy purpose.'
My aunt laughed out loud when I asked her what unholy purpose had been happening, supposing maybe it had been a brothel.

' No, it was a hotel and couples around here would book it on their wedding night.'

Cool.

I had thought.

It overlooked a great valley with flowering aloe vera and at the time of my visit, there were seasonal flowers, scattering the surrounding ground with white and blue.


So I started writing about Onion farming instead.

At 29 I told myself 'this is your year'
And I became a content consultant, whereupon landing a handful clients I settled into this relatively easy life Doing what I was trained to do and enjoying every bit but the pay.

At 30 I declared
'This is my year.'
But pretty soon realized it wasn't and every single time I said it after that, it wasn't.
(After 30 you don't count year by year. Every month counts)

So I declared, 'this is not my year !' two months ago, when I lost (every bit of everything I care about though that is a bit of exaggeration but it is true to some extent. I'll explain, by and by)

I decided to give up.
And to care less
And to lower my rubbish tolerance to about 1%
And to stop being nice

And I seriously recommend giving up.
What giving up does to you is not head you off to a hang line.  But I will talk about that another day.

'This is not my year, ' said I two months ago.

It didn't make me feel despondent as you would expect.
I looked at what I had lost and decided well, it could be worse.

By my age my mother had a teenager to pay school fees for.
And She must have worried about her aging Mother and her growing daughter.

And here I am worrying every year about my pay check.
Yet I have more than many my age and circumstance can claim to have.

I have always known I have stamina, confidence, beauty,positivity, cynicism  and  Intellect (this could be argued on depending on subject)

But I live in a society that wants you as a citizen of Venus to disregard what strengths you posses and highlight the one that requires the least effort.

But I learnt early that in spite of the big letters in blue ink, ' you cannot keep a cow if you are not going to kill it.'

And that was my loss, at least for many a formative years when I should have slung a Mars citizen on my shoulder to get me across the bridge. Rather, should have slung myself on their shoulder not the other way.

I'm glad for it though. I cannot be said to owe anybody other than those to whom I should without being coerced.

I mean my family .

Gosh. I was reading David Copperfield last night. I sound like a  classic costume drama.

Anyhow.
I took my strong qualities apart and thought ' if this is gonna end let it end in flames. Let it burn as brightly as we are.'

Thus the rebirth of my 60hour work weeks.
I work 10 hours a day
I sleep 7 hours a night
I do my usual shenanigans the rest of the time.(like this blog post; though very important it falls under the category of non-profit making activities of human occupation)

Admitting that this is not my year helped me to shed off the weight that one has to bear after affirmative resolutions.

And it not being my year doesn't mean now I'm a failure it just means my method are not working let's try another method.

It also brought me back to the question I've always asked myself, what do I really want to do with my life?

Being able to answer that question has propelled me to sift through job applications with a needle point.

I don't want to just work because I am a  30something and I should have a job and should earn this much and should have a plot in Kamulu and I should have at least a two burner and I should stop buying roasted maize in the street and I should try to act like A lady, a little? Maybe a little? No I will not.

I don't have to act anything
And you don't have to act anything when you are around me either.
Coz this is not my year and I expect nothing.
Nothing but the real real stuff.

Coz I got this.