Moving on swiftly!

Sometimes you get to that point in your life where it's just time to go. Time to pack up and move on.

Change. It's a scary thing but it's also a glorious thing.

Going over my blog posts has been one heck of a task. It's been a reflection of my journey up until this point in my life and while i'd quite readily say that i'm embarrased at the direction my life took since the beginning of this blog, i'll say that it's been a learning experience.

I never read my own stuff. I'm my own worst critic!
But i'm also the one who knows me best and i'm one heck of a courageous human being!

“Courage! I have shown it for years; think you I shall lose it at the moment when my sufferings are to end?”

- Marie Antoinette.

With a new age comes growth and a chance to improve on the mistakes of the past.
The greatest gift of age is the chance to begin and begin again, and i'm at the realisation that i'm no longer overgrown, just growing.

My past is not an indication of my future, but rather an incentive for greatness.

Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. But now it's time to leave, time to move on. Time to learn from the mistakes of the past, that have made me MUCH stronger and even wiser (cc: wisdom tooth, 3 white hairs!). Mistakes never to be repeated, and stories only to be told.

Best wishes,

No longer overgrown,

Cinnamon.

Birthday Musings

I'm seated at the salon for the upteenth time in my life. I'm in the dryer and it gives me an opportunity to reflect. This time it feels different. It's not mediocre, it's not centred outside me, but very much internally.

Early this week i had a VERY low day. A lot of things weren't going the way i wanted them to and i was very sad about.

One day i didn't even think i could get out of bed! An understanding ear here, and a pep talk there and breathing exercises and i was as right as rain.

Last year for my birthday, a big hullaballoo had been made about my birthday and i was afraid i wouldn't match up to that hype.

On close examination however i discovered, that although VERY many new faces will be at the celebrations, and many of the old ones gone, i'm much more satisfied with the development and level at which my friendships have reached.
Lots of new friends, lots of friendships sustained. A new me. A different me.

I'm much more fulfilled in my friendships and in my budding relationship :)
That's a story for another day :) when there's more to talk about. Besides if i know him, and he's said it too, he's looking forward to appearing on Overgrown Cinnamon. Not that he doesn't know what i think or feel about most things. We're new friends but very similar, which is beautiful either way you look at it.

Back to birthdays!!!
It's my birthday weekend.
I'm going to be 21years old on this earth tommorrow, or rather in a matter of hours, and even though it's bitter sweet, the sweet definately outweighs the bitter!

I'm grown!
I'm different. My values have changed or been strengthened.
I'm finding out more and more things about myself and i'm falling more and more in love with me.

i'm no longer overgrown, i'm simply cinnamon :)
Perfect for this time and place in my life.

I'm more stable than i was a few months back, and even more accepting of myself and my flaws.
My percieved flaws are my blessings.

I'm amazing! Simply because i'm me!

Bring on the 21! I'm ready!

Lots of love,

Cinnamon!
Mwah!
Xoxo

We're not horrible

We're not horrible kids; we've simply drawn my father to the dark side.
I don't know where the idea of survival for the fittest came into our lives. For as long as I can remember, my siblings and I have always fought between ourselves for space to express ourselves.
Not too long ago my parents owned a Peugeot 405. My brother and I named her fondly, Susan (I've been naming things for as long as I've been alive :) Anyway, in the navy blue Suzie we always fought for enough space for each of us, so as you can imagine, when daddy bought mum a Honda CR-V in the new model at the time, we were very excited.
Dad said he was going on a business trip and showed up on mum's birthday with a new car. Needless to say, we all loved the car and we preferred to ride in mum's car rather than dad's 405 that was fond of stalling due to its battery. It's amazing really, how the car was perfectly maintained but the battery seemed to not like Suzie very much.
Oh well, in no time, although we now had MUCH more space in the CR-V, we began to fight for space again.
It's with this background in mind that the little scramble for Africa in our home has evolved from the fight for our parent's attention to a much bigger struggle for independence at the same time interdependence.
This struggle has been one that has been greatly discouraged by daddy and mummy alike, with mum taking a more proactive role. Once, I think I must have been about 13, she made a HUGE ugali and made us eat it all because we were fighting about food.
Oh my! The things we have not done!
Dad has always been the one to keep his cool. Mum is the strict disciplinarian and dad just uses logic to talk you out of stuff. Mum would rather beat sense into you. She's a Leo, so am I (our birthdays are 7days apart) so you can imagine we share some tendencies.
Anyway, today, dad found himself on the dark side. Mum crossed to the dark side a long time ago when she discovered that she also has to scramble for her own things so as to get anything.
Dad has always been much too principled for that.
Sunday after church is our family day. My siblings and I wash the dog. Mum makes a big lunch. During the week she doesn't cook much, between dropping my sister in school at 7am and her classes at 5.30, she gets home around 9 every night together with dad who has now become accustomed to picking her up from school.
I'm sure they secretly enjoy the alone time to just chat and catch up, before getting home to our many demands. Between Nyamde, Huey and myself and not to mention Koco (the dog who's more like a last born) clamoring for attention begins with Koco jumping on the car when they enter the driveway.
"Having a child makes you a parent. Having two makes you a referee!"
Back to dad's woes.
So after some work in the garden, dad came into the house to watch some TV and have lunch. My sister and I were reading books in the dining room, mum was in the kitchen and Huey was nodding away at some hit on his iPod, at full blast.
Anyway, dad is an engineer by profession and as you can imagine making life easier is his passion.
Case in point, we have an electric remote controlled gate! Two living rooms, one for his friends and one for the kids to entertain. We have a study because he doesn't like books everywhere and we have enough electric appliances ranging from electric knives for cutting meat, blenders, juicers, you name it! We've got it!
Now imagine dad's frustration at not being able to find a simple remote control to work the TV! (We have 3 remotes btw!)
He called us all and as usual the responses were "I didn't have it! I don't know where it is!"
That was when he finally broke!
"I'm going to buy my own remote and walk around with it. It will only be mine! I won't share it because that is the only way I can enjoy it!" He snapped.
And the laughter began!
We had finally broken dad.
"If you can't beat them, ...JOIN THEM!"

When demons breed

Am lying in bed
Staring at my wall
Next to my bed..
Your image, etched
Staring back at me..
Providing solace..
Moisture forms, cascading down..
And I remember your moistures…
Oh fuck am getting mushy…
I’m in need of her baptism,
Her sweet holy waters.
To guide me in...
As I knock on her insides
Like a cheeky poltergeist
Dying to get out…
 And pin you to the wall
Show you how its done..
Drag me to hell,
And lift me to the heavens
As we lock lips, entwined midsections
Am descending into insanity.
The gods regret
Animating your perfect sculpture
A scene of envy, green to the core…
Without you by me
My world turns cold,
And deep inside me
A crack.
 A rupture lengthening the night
I miss you.
Even as you pull my strings
Just for a thrill.
Play yoyo with my heart.
How much is real?
The voices ask me...
A chill going straight to your veins
And you can feel it,
A shift in your essence
A cure to your pain, shape shifting,
An abeyance..the lull before the storm
And you begin to sink
As it begins to slowly take over
Indiscretions laid bare
Constrictions manifesting
Coz you want her badly..
To be consumed in her
A damsel to rescue you,
But your games don’t matter
Coz all I know is
You are my illumination.
My guardian angel…

<< Guest post by BujuParkie>>

Have you written about it?

Now you know you have a problem when by con-census your friends say that you should write all about it and then let them know.

This week was K’s birthday, and he treated a group of his friends to dinner J

So there we were, all 10 GORGEOUS girls and then K and his boy, need I tell you the kind of attention they gannered? Especially when it emerged that he was the birthday boy J.

They set us up on a beautiful large table so we were all able to sit comfortably together without having to try too hard to see and socialize with everyone.

Later  I spoke to the Muhibbah manager and he managed to get cake for Kim, when we were having dessert and all the hotel staff came and sang for K and it was fantastic J.

Got home at around midnight, so very glad I know a great cab service, got home in one piece.

I like that that group of friends is totally different from my usual group. It’s really nice to just hang out with different people sometimes.

Last week, I found out a friend of mine was running the breaking news network on my life. I was beyond disappointed about it but all I could get out of myself was a nonchalant kind of response.

But I’m more resolved to be open about how I feel.

And the 1^st statement of this new phase(on this blog) is

I quit twitter because of B.

Yes, I felt like it was spotlight on Cinnamon, but he was on my timeline and it was driving me crazy!

I’m under a duty to be mature about this so I wasn’t going to unfollow him simply because he’s my ex!

But I was going to quit because everytime he showed on my tl, all I wanted to do was stalk his twitter. And quite frankly, I’m not a stalker! So that story had to die! J

So there it is. Honest. Open. Frank.

LOL!

All my love,

Cinna

Pick your Poison

I have a friend who has a friend, just like you know a guy who knows a guy J, who has a story with too many similarities to mine to be anything but.

It’s a story of struggle and perserverance. A story that love concurs all. I will not elaborate.

About a year ago, I took my mother to visit a friend in hospital. Now my mother and I have always been very close. She’s actually the reason this girl is in law school today. Not because she said so, or she pays the fees! But because of who she is, and how she handles the struggle with grace. I got into into law school to make sure I made it easier for women like her, who struggle but aren’t quite so fortunate.

That is a story for another day.

Anyhow, so we checked into the hospital, visiting hours had just begun about five minutes before and when we got to her bed, she already had about three guests with her!

Anyhow, this pale woman lay on the bed against a backdrop of white sheets with a smile that radiated such warmth!

She was visibly weak but got up to give me a hug once mum introduced me as her little stick of cinnamon. Needless to say I was so impressed by the tightness of that hug that putting it to words would diminish its true value. She hugged me so tightly that I began to cry because she released all the tension in my spirit when it was I who was supposed to be releasing her tension!

The women chatted. Others came. We prayed. They left and others came in. Someone suggested that I could easily pass for her daughter. We laughed. When time came to leave I hugged my new mother and left with my other mother J

I made a visit to her house one random weekend and I called her on mother’s day. She is after all my mother! J I pray for her everyday and somehow I feel close to her because of what she’s been through.

Let’s call her Aunty G.

Aunty G is battling as we speak breast cancer. I speak to her as often as I can, but I do more praying than talking. A while back Uncle G left Aunty G.

She’s deep in the throngs of her battle, one that many lost on the way to remission and even though some days are tough, God’s tougher.

I remember how you reacted to Uncle G leaving. You had quite a few words for him. Ha! Kind of seems like the pot calling the kettle black now doesn’t it?

A long time ago, or rather what seems to be a long time ago, I wanted to end stigma for families dealing with some seriously big medical conditions in their families. They say a problem shared, is a problem half solved.

Medical conditions such as sickle-cell have no real support groups in place. Acting like it doesn’t exist  doesn’t solve anything. But it’s no one’s story to tell but those whose lives are directly affected by it.

A lot of people dealing with complicated medical conditions in their families don’t talk about them, and any information you’re likely to get is by virtue of your relationship with them. When they share their inner most fears and worries with you it’s not because they need you to solve it or broadcast it to the world. It’s simply because they need to sort out their thoughts and they’re using you as a sounding board, sharing their thoughts and feelings with you. In law we call it a priviledged occasion, and it is fiercely protected by law.

It’s a PRIVILEDGE. Do not abuse it.

Granted, it’s a fact that some of us deal with some pretty messed up stuff daily, but never abuse the trust that someone places in you. Trust is not given it’s earned and a lot of the times, when it’s gone. It’s gone.

If it’s not your story to tell, don’t tell it.

Telling it doesn’t make you a hero. It makes you a coward who cannot stand by anyone when they need you.

And as the Swahili say, malipo ni hapa, hapa duniani.

Kindest regards,

Cinnamon.

Xoxo

And so the story continues :)

They say the hardest part of moving on is not looking back. And boy am i grateful for the gift of friends who fiercely enforced that big principle. Thank u!

Anyhow, i'm growing teeth! Wisdom teeth and how appropriate is it that they started to grow on the 16th?

What's the big deal about the 16th? Well,..

See i used to be terrified of all the feelings i'd get as landmarks or rather former landmarks came and went but the greatest thing happened. I forgot! And when i finally thought to remember, the season i thought i'd never get through, i got over.

Granted i've been sooo busy and i'm the queen of blocking out otherwise traumatic experiences and anything that made me sad. I think it's a great thing because well, all i'm left with are the great memories :D and who can compete with that?

Okay, so back to the tooth.

This growing tooth is driving me crazy! It's sooo painful that it's changed the way i talk, i don't ever want to move my jaw and talking and smiling even worse frowning are such painful tasks!

I attest to the saying that it takes more muscles to frown than to smile! Heh! I know it!

Anyway, my whole mouth is now in pain and i guess it's time to see the dentist, but ONLY after exams. I'm tired of walking around in a constant medicated state!

Yes! The tooth!

Yeah so my birthday is next month (now this month), and I LOVE birthdays! Oh cake and only the closest and dearest..*sigh*

This particular birthday is one that mum and i have been looking forward to since i was 8!!And she's got something special planned. I already spotted one of my birthday gifts in dad's drawer and i'm really excited to have that! And i can only imagine what i'll do for my birthday this year..

But with my nearest and best, and those people who've shaped me into who i am today..The folks, The Triple M's, dani and kwaru (grandma n grandpa), aunts,uncles,cousins,friends,my BEST  friends who've celebrated EVERY single birthday with me in intimate settings,..i have everything in the world to look forward to!!!

Plus i'm wiser now :) Cc: Wisdom tooth :D

*Excited internal squeal*

All my love,

Cinnamon :)

Xoxo

Just for you sweetie,..

The other day you called me in a huff. You were on the verge of tears because he’d let you down again. So I picked you up and asked you to keep me company for a while, while I did all the things I needed to do that day.

I let you speak because you needed a sounding board. You spoke about how you felt. About what she’d said, about what he’d said, about how you felt, about what mum thought, about what your sister thought. I let you speak.

I listened to the way your lips trembled and how you pulled back the tears, the way you digressed. I listened to your heart break when you told me that he’d made another girl pregnant and how you just couldn’t understand it.

I remembered how not too long I said to you that everyone goes through rough patches and the trick is in both of you being committed to work through it. Well baby girl, you were and he wasn’t.

Hali ya maisha au sio?

Cest la vie!

I had a friend say that to me recently while I cried and I laughed so hard, the peace that I hadn’t felt in a while was restored. That’s always been my favourite phrase. And he simply reminded me what I always knew.

If I said that all that matters in this world was you darling, I would be lying and calling myself a hypocrite. There’s more to life.

There’s a song I particularly like by –

“There’s got to be more to life, than chasing down every temporary high, to satisfy me.”

And there is.

Sweetie, I know right now it seems hard. It doesn’t just seem hard, it is hard from where you’re standing but baby girl the calm is right around the corner. Hold on, by the very skin of your nails.

And when you feel you can’t do it, we shall rally around you. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US! We shall hold on to you and you shall make it through the storm.

I’m not going to tell you not to be miserable. I’ll tell you to enjoy the misery J

I realize that is sort of an equivalent of a masochistic statement but girlfriend! The harder you fall, the higher you rise! J

The beauty in my imperfection.

Some days I see the beauty in my imperfection. Most days I don’t.

Tell me I’m beautiful and I’ll believe you, and in the same breathe tell me that I’m hideous and I’ll believe you.

Some days I see me in the mirror, most days that image is distorted by the rolls of fat and cellulite that I see on my arms and thighs.

Tell me that I’m smart, and then in the same breathe tell me that I’m too smart.

Tell me that I’m strong, and in the same breathe tell me I’m too strong.

I’ll believe you.

With the same arms that stroke me playfully, shove me, and with the same feet that walk with me, kick me into the dust. Don’t worry, I will not retaliate. I’ll take it.

That’s what I do. That’s who I am. I’m a taker.

I’ll take it.

I’ve heard it described as meekness. I know it to be my weakness.

With those same lips that you use to kiss me, tear me down with your words.

Tell me that I’m beautiful, and then tell me that I’m too sensitive.

I’ll believe you.

Tell me that we can make it, and then turn and run from me.

Don’t worry, I’ll take it. I’m a taker remember?

I’ll smile and walk away and then soak my pillow in salt water from my eyes, in the dead of night.

Sobbing like a little bitch that’s too helpless to do anything with itself.

I’ll take it. I’ll take it because I’m strong. I’ll take it because I deserve it. I’ll take it because I must have done something to deserve it.

I’ll take it because if I don’t who will?

Tell me that I’m too modest and I’ll invest in a good push up bra and a low cut shirt.

Tell me I show too much and on the low cut shirt, I’ll wear a scarf.

Tell it to me. I’ll take it. I’m a taker.

Tell me to open my legs by the time we get to ten, and I’ll do it. I’ll do it because if I don’t what more am I good for?

I don’t know who I am. I don’t fight. I take it.

So I’ll let you use me when you promised to protect me.

I’ll let you abuse me and I’ll protect you.

I’ll let you break me, because you built me up.

I’ll let you hurt me, so you don’t have to feel the hurt.

I’ll let you say that I’m yours and let you build me up.

I’ll let you kiss me and put your hand down my pants and up my shirt, I’ll be too weak to fight back, remember, I’ll take it. I’m a taker.

I’ll let you feed me alcohol and make me feel uptight for not wanting to drink.

I’ll let you make your mother believe that you’re dating my friend because I’m not good enough.

I’ll take it, remember, I’m a taker.

Tell me that I deserve fists and that it’s my destiny.

With the same mouth ask to kiss me, and make me desire you.

I’ll take it. Remember?

I’m a taker.

And when you finally get tired of me, discard me like the piece of trash I am.

With no real opinions of my own. No sense of self worth.

Throw me away, but first spit and trample on me like a worthless piece of paper, soon to be too degraded to be used.

But please, don’t lay me somewhere, ripe and ready for the taking, for someone to find beauty in my imperfection.