The thing about getting tagged is that it robs me of my “mystery”. Think about it. When I sit down and try to conversate with you, you will know me inside out and if I try to lie, you will call me out on my fib. Generally speaking you can read me like a
blog book…that said, here’s your ammo.
I can’t manage time. I have tried everything to get rid of this, but it just won’t work. The whole “set your clock fifteen minutes ahead” thing has refused to work for me for two simple reasons;
· I set the clock so at the back of my mind I know what time it really is.
· The city clocks are all over the place screaming the right time at me in black and white. At this point I don’t have the heart to glance at my dull and unhappy looking chronometer.
The problem is, my time keeping is not perfectly flawed. There are instances that I find my self right on time for. I may be late for a date, but I will arrive right on time for my Dental appointment.
I’m a beer snob. I don’t know when that started, but it’s there. I seem to have a problem with beers in brown bottles. I have tried to make it seem glamorous by saying stuff like, “I don’t do brown bottles” which in effect makes me sound a lot like those girls back at the university whom I despised for saying they only drank wine. I don’t have a thing against wine drinkers, heck after the events of New Year’s Eve 2006, I respect them…BUT it pisses me off when they say they drink wine in a way that implies they are way cooler than the rest of us! Beer drinkers are more daring, you will not get a wine gut, so don’t think you’re HARDCORE. YOU are NOT taking chances, THEY are!
I have kind of eased up though; I take canned drinks . . . under duress.
I have a problem with Authority Figures. I figure this may be because I like to do things my way or because more often than not, they don’t know what they are talking about. This started back in Primary School. Standard Four it was.
I say “standard” because it was not in Uganda, but across the border in Kenya.
We had this exercise in English Class where we had to arrange words in Alphabetical Order. I don’t know why they thought it was vital to learn this seeing as I’ve never been asked at a job interview whether arranging stuff alphabetically is among the skills I intend to bring to the company. Maybe you have had greater success with this.
Anyway, so we had this exercise and I got all but one number right. I looked at it and thought it was correct, after all, back then, the letter “S” came before the letter “W”. I told the teacher so and got the thrashing of my life. Then when she got round to showing kids how to do it, in a part of the lesson they called, “Corrections”, she realized her mistake and looked at me with an expression of Horror. Like she’d just discovered she’d dealt with the son of the devil and daddy was coming to talk to her about it after class.
No such luck, after the lesson she asked me to stay behind and she apologized. She said it was her mistake, blah blah PMS blah.
If this had been Tennessee things might have played out a little different. Pamela Rogers, anyone?
Anyway, since then, I don’t like to take shit from higher ups just because they figure they are right and I am wrong…except at work. I respect authority figures in an office environment. If they say a camel is a sea creature I will not question them, but rather ask whether it should be fried or boiled before consumption.
I did an ARTS based course at the university. I feel the need to point this out because even the few people that know me well do not really know what I did at the university. I have been thrown occasional, “You did Industrial Arts at the university, yeah?” and “If you have your fine art degree you should be sorted” and my personal favorite, “You studied I.T at campus, yeah”?
It’s gotten so bad, once a pal’s dad was recommending me to someone for employment and I had no idea what the job entailed until I read the note he had asked me to deliver.
“This is (name). He is known to me. He did Information Technology and he is good. Give him something.”
I didn’t deliver this note lest the person on the other end asked me to create software that would allow him to steal Tony Blair’s personality whenever he logged on to check his email.
Then recently I received a call from a friend’s brother (who I suppose by proxy or over-wanting I can refer to as a friend as well) and he asks me whether my I.T skills take into account servicing computers.
I thought I’d go with the flow seeing as it could be easy cash and I could pick some help from Google, so I asked him what exactly he wanted and he says, “Servicing, you know. The kind you I.T people do.”
I didn’t go.
I have a sleeping disorder. I don’t know what it is called. It could be insomnia, but seeing as I don’t have a blog to go with that claim, I think I will lose credibility. I will hang out till about 5 in the morning and then wake up at 9am….the same morning. I don’t know why this is. I also have instances where I can not sleep till really late (or early if you’re one for details) and I occupy myself with music and the internet. Its sad really because more often than not I figure that when I’m awake the whole world is awake with me and consequently I call people up and send them messages at what some may call awkward hours.
I’ve contemplated popping pills, but with what happened to Heath Ledger, I am frightened.
This thing wouldn’t have been awful really, but it shows and I have a sympathizer in the form of my brother’s friend.
Not too long ago I met her at two pm and in mid conversation she asked me whether I had trouble sleeping. I was kind of shy about answering this because I figured if she knew about this, she’d surely know about my other dark secret…
Then she says she has the same problem, that she finds it really hard to sort it out and that a slice of cucumber will get read of the bags under my eyes. So much for that plan to milk ‘em…
Then she went on to say that her eyes dry out and at this point I’m thinking, “Close, but no cigar”. The fluid in my eyes stays there for a while, and for all intents and purposes it probably will stay there until I take some ill-advised trip to the sun
I listen to everything but Lingala Music. This type music brings such great displeasure to me and I do not understand why people are crazy about it.
Listening to this shit brings dishonor to my ears.
I’m sure someone will offer his expert take on the matter with, “Oh, it’s the instruments and the way they are arranged”. Whatever! Seriously, why would anyone want to listen to a song that goes on for thirty minutes?
Does anyone know what this implies?
It means, in Shoe-terms that One song is enough to wear off some part of the sole on your shoe.
It means that by the time you’re through dancing to say, I don’t know, three songs, you will be BADLY dehydrated.
It means that if you bought a radio cassette like back in the old days, you’d only have two songs on it, with each filling either side.
I don’t care that the words do not make sense, I’m cool with that. I respect artistes. I listen to Ray C don’t I? Well, actually no. I just watch her.
For no reason at all other than 7 being a fairly decent number (the kind you’d take for drinks and let your daughter marry), here’s one more thing;
Uganda Waragi is my Kryptonite.
This tag made possible by the malicious actions of Carlo-ryn
Tag! You’re it;
RULES OF ENGAGEMENT
1. Link back to your tagger
2. Post these rules in your submission
3. Share six things/habits/quirks/whatever about you in your submission
4. Tag six [random] people at the end of it
5. Tell each taggee via comments that he/she done been tagged