Musical is getting to the point of being fun, the point where everybody realizes,"Oh, yeah, this is what I signed up for." We all have a pretty good idea of the lyrics, the choreography and each other, so we can finally relax and enjoy ourselves. This also happens to be the time that our entire afternoon practices roll around. I have taken part in so many backstage games of Kung-fu today.
It also helps that we're getting attached to the musical. At first, it was a little hard to handle that we were in a musical about a prostitute that gets knocked up, but we've moved beyond that: it actually is a good storyline and musical in general. But seriously, we didn't know what to expect because it kind of launches off with this number:
Yeah. We aren't that crazy. But this managed to terrify a lot of people away from joining musical this year. It has so many good songs. In other news, it ends *spoiler* with the lead's suicide so that her son can go to America with his father.
Here's a less bawdy song, that Moriah made me watch like three times because, I quote, "You could grate cheese on those abs!":
The distinct smell of vegetation and diesel smoke, an overwhelming mixture that hits you at the airport and I see inseparable from Nairobi.
The crisp mornings, waking up to birds, their sounds brighter and more exotic than anything that is heard around here.
Passion fruit juice, strong coffee and tea with lots of milk and cane sugar, which gives it a distinct flavor.
Everything coming to a halt for tea time in the morning and afternoon.
Time being a fluid concept. Everything is always late and people are so laid back they don't notice.
Ridiculously dusty roads that get in your lungs.
The beautiful gardens. To create more jobs, most people who can afford it hire a gardener and well kept tropical plants are fantastic.
Meeting so many interesting, inspirational people. At the guesthouse, everybody had a vastly different story that they would tell you over a meal.
The adorable dusty little dukas (shops) with blaring music and selling everything you can imagine in a miniscule space.
Soda in glass bottles.
So many picture worthy opportunities.
So much joy in the little things. An ecstatic little kid with a bouncy ball or someone cautiously eating jello for the first time.
The definitely not safe playground equipment. Some genius designed that playground equipment and didn't not take safety into account. But it was so fun.
Despite that I only spent two of my seventeen years there, it still feels like a home to me. I never had a permanent house there but that doesn't stop me from feeling like I belong there.
I can't help but feel that I don't belong here for the rest of my life. Everything whizzes past in a flurry of chaos, people never relax and often feel discontent with their lives without reason. In Kenya, so many people have so little but are happy, despite what terrible cards life has dealt them. I want to live a simple life, content with what I have and in a place I want to be, doing things I want to do. I want to focus my life on things that matter to me.
If this involves me living in a grass hut with few clothes, no stove and always looking disheveled, I don't care. Bold statement? I willing to give up a lot to live my dream because it's worth it.
Is this too much to ask? A bit of a fairy tale? I don't think so. I've seen a lot of people live their crazy dreams so why can't I be one of them?
Love,
-J-
You know when you meet a person and they really intrigue you? Like, you have no idea how you feel about them, apart from that they are interesting?
Tonight I met a guy at youth group who was not really the youth group type. He came with one of my friends, arguably also not the typical youth group type. I met him once before, a brief encounter years ago, but nothing worth remembering.
So, everybody got to youth group, they put us in cars and we zipped off to the mall to do 'random acts of kindness' (though no one took into account that the mall on a Wednesday night in February is deserted.) We were put into groups, and I ended up with Allan and this guy, who I will call WGB (White Gangster Boy).
In the hour and some that the three of us hung out at the mall, I discovered the following about WGB:
He dresses like the stereotypical gangster kid, the type that old ladies throw death stares.
He was fully aware of above statement.
He has watched Doctor Who.
He stole an apple from the grocery store, as we stood there with him.
He is currently suspended from school for 'a stupid reason.'
He proposed to a girl last year because he believed he loved her.
He hates menthol cigarettes because his parents and sister smoke them.
He dislikes his school because the people aren't interesting.
He doesn't smoke weed during school.
He hangs out with a lot of douche bags.
He does a lot of 'ass kicking.'
He likes being in relationships.
He loves the Hunger Games.
He seems completely at ease with his delinquency.
He manages to still pull off the convincing appearance of being a nice guy.
He wants to be a nice guy, even if he has bad habits.
He has an incredibly amount of honesty and sincerity about him.
I was so conflicted as to what to think. Despite me and my clean cut self, I felt strangely comfortable around him. The only concluding idea I have about him is 'intrigued.'
Love,
-J-
I'm giving up procrastination for Lent. My future in IB French depends upon it. Basically, no/very little Tumblr or blogging until homework is sufficiently completed. Why has my life come to this point?
Why yes, Eleven, I am dealing with it. By using Lent as an intervention to fight the overwhelming urge to open a Tumblr tab, with it's endless scrolling and ability to turn hours into minutes. Anybody giving up anything for Lent?
Love,
-J-
