I love WordPress, but I’ve got a side piece now.

I got my very first WordPress account back in 2015. It was a class assignment from this gracious professor we had. (Y’all were still in diapers no? Alright)

Like I used to, back in the day, I panicked. So I randomly created an account just to tick the assignment box.

I can’t quite recall what I wrote about, though I do remember asking this very pretty classmate we shared a hostel with how to spell the word detest. I think I wrote something about promiscuity. Haaaah!

I would just randomly post things, still trying to find my voice, my flow.

Outside our hostels, we had pit latrines (someone explain to the rich kids at the back what those are). I preferred them for reasons I won’t mention here. One day, I had my phone in the back pocket of my trousers and totally forgot… So yes, you guessed it, and friends that’s how I lost my phone. I didn’t have a laptop yet. And back then, I wasn’t savvy enough to recover my Gmail account.

So just like that, I lost my first WordPress account and with it, all my weird little writings. Most of them, written in the middle of mini panic attacks. I remember my favorite post, the one I wrote about my grandad right after I received the news of his passing. I couldn’t process the grief, so I wrote instead. So typical of Val.

Anyway, that backstory is to say, ever since I started writing on WordPress again in 2022, I’ve always carried this low-key fear “What if I lose this account again?”

Truth be told, I’ve never been one to take some things with the seriousness they deserve. I used to be that person who didn’t care much who had access to my accounts. Until one day.. plot twist…a very selfish human being deleted my YouTube account. And that account was actually doing well. Believe it or not, I’d have been a full-on YouTube girl by now. I loved what I was building on there.

Ever since, whenever someone asks, “What happened to your YouTube?” I just smile weirdly and move on.

That incident taught me a painful but necessary lesson, passwords and logins are critical. Ignore my past ignorance, please.

When it came to subscriptions; Netflix, YouTube premium, Spotify, WordPress…I’d always counted on another  awesome soul who would just “handle it.” I never bothered. I just knew someone would sort it out.

Until we stopped talking. And I was like, okay Val… I know you’ve got some codependency things to work through, but maybe it’s time to start acting like the full-time adult that you are.

So here we are. Seven months later: no Netflix, no Spotify… and my WordPress subscription is expiring sometime in August. The thought of losing my domain is eating at me. It’s not even a huge task, but it’s always the simple ones that trip me up.

Lately, I’ve been having nightmares about losing my WordPress , again.

Enter Pauline. (https://pwaitheruechostudio.wordpress.com) My kindred spirit. An incredible writer. She writes the kind of poetry that will wreck you in the best way. And she’s the one who introduced me to “Blogger.”

You know how it is with Google,  if I’m not in my Gmail, I’m probably on Sheets, Docs, or Slides or Forms. Never once did I scroll down far enough to discover “Blogger.” And yet, here I am, always going on about being “adventurous.” The joke is on me.

So I tried it. I copied one of my WordPress blogs onto Blogger just to test the interface  and I love it. Pauline’s blog is so well organized, and honestly, I’m impressed.

Which means,  I may not have to keep panicking about WordPress. Because now, I kinda have a side chic. (Don’t get me wrong I’m all about monogamy, by the way.)

Oh, and one last secret  I have a Substack account too. Y’all will never find it. That one is just for me. I learned about it from another beautiful soul, Wairimu Leah. She pours her heart out into everything she writes(Her account is currently on private).

Anyway, enough of the yapping.

Stay acing, guys.

Ps (Because I can’t, for the life of me, figure out an appropriate image for this post and I love attaching images to my write-ups, the child in me can’t just help it… I’m just going to go ahead and upload my favorite thing, curtains and windows.)


Cheers.

Of mundane days

What’s really going on Injairu?

It has been a little over 5 days and it is almost like you have nothing to report about?

I know I write when I’m overly hurt or when I’m in love or when eventful/ extremely hurtful things are happening in my life. Somehow the adrenaline seems to work wonders on my creativity.

Lately I have been a normal human being. Out of trouble. Out of messy situations or rather situationships. Peaceful. Less opinionated. More mysterious. And I do not know what to report home about being normal.

So technically, being normal means my creativity is under maintenance. I donno! This sounds sort of toxic.

I love being normal though. I am not even trying to mess around with fate. I won’t even dare it. I know what happened to me the last time I tried. So kids, take it from me don’t you dare dare fate (🤣my dad jokes be killing me).

I gotta confess though,  in as much as I’m not even writing as much as I would love to, I am genuinely loving the peace that “normal” breeds.

I bet I just need to learn how to tap into my creativity besides using it as a coping mechanism. As in tapping into my creativity as a normal functional, peaceful grown woman.

Life being calm and peaceful and having a regulated nervous system isn’t a formula for boring Valary. Get that. You prayed for it alright.

Or maybe, I’ll probably come back to report about an old flame I brought back to life. Gotta play with fire a little.
Yoh yoh yoh yoh! Kidding. I love it here. In fact looking past the mundane, I am actually thriving.

Calmly working my way through becoming a baddie with a Benz, you know what I’m saying. A country girl with a Benzie? No I think a baddie with a Benz has a nice feel to it. (Intrusive thoughts winning).

I thought about editing this with ChatGPT to make it sound a little serious, but no! I love it playful. I love my things a little more playful I mean. I’m a total kitten when I’m in my element.

I bet this was a good waste of your one minute right? No? C’mon !It doesn’t hurt to admit joy.

Stay peaceful or maybe playful.

Cheers

Communication

What are you passionate about?

I am passionate about communication.

Back story, I was on a call in the morning with somebody I haven’t spoken to for almost 7 months now.

It felt awkward at first. Anyway midway through the call, he tells me “you sound different.” I ask, “how different?” he says “weirdly calm”

That wasn’t the first time he was saying that, he has always said that about me. That I tend to be weirdly calm.

But he insisted that this one was different.

Then eventually while texting he told me I sounded like ChatGPT 🤣. This one got me. “Asin robotic?” I asked. He said, “You articulate your thoughts more carefully now” okay I promised myself to stop probbing further because I didn’t get it.

I’ve also been told before that communication with me almost always feels like a communication class. I thought this was a bit harsh. I won’t lie, this one hurt me. 

So for the better part of this year, I’ve literally been working on myself. Asin the real stuff. Rectifying my bad bits and stuff, including my communication skills.

I wouldn’t want to go around sounding like I was taking people through a communications class…you know.

I have stayed in solitude for what feels like ages. The minute I started interacting with people, I get such remarks about my communication. Well others have said that now, I sound too guarded. I don’t know. 

I know I digressed, but all that is to say..I am extremely passionate about communication. 

The intentional form of communication. 

Cheers.

I live for Octobers

What is your favorite season of year? Why?

In Kenya, we don’t really get to experience the 4 seasons.

We basically get the rainy season and the dry season. That dictates our planting when it comes to farming and all.

That aside, I just know I love October,.. probably fall (Autumn) in the Northern Hemisphere.

I live for October. It does something to me.

I remember watching Anne with an E and there’s a part she said, “I am so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.”

That stuck with me for sure.

Tiny little wins

I have been working out for more than one month straight. Not missing a day. 

I’ve gotten up and showed, especially on the days that I felt like I couldn’t. 

Nothing extreme, just a few stretches. Skipping. Squats. A few minutes of yoga. And a 40 second plunk that almost always takes me out.  Come to think of it, there are people who can hold up on plunks for more than 2 minutes, are these ones even real human beings because yooooh!

I am just happy to report, this is the first time in my life, that I’ve kept up with working out. I’ve never gone past 4 days. 

Honestly speaking, I’ve never been so proud of myself. 

I love what the workouts are doing to my body, and especially to my mind. 

I would love to go on the famous “hot girl walks” but I live in the village, don’t take this the wrong way, I looooove love my village..but in case you don’t know, and I know this applies to almost every village, your business is usually everybody else’s business. 

You need to greet everybody you meet, and usually it just never stops at that. Small talk here. A little gossip there, and the usual “you are getting late, you should be having at least two babies now”. No! I’m not quite ready to jump into that, the hot girl walks in my village I mean. 

So until I move out, I think I’m fine with the little cute work outs I do in my bedroom. 

You should probably try it, it doesn’t have to be much..imagine the girlies aren’t lying. Intentionally moving your body, just does something sacred to it. 

Cheers!

Literally slowing down

It is 9:51 a.m right now.

I have intentionally decided that today, I am going to slow down. Darn sure my body and mind could use that.

Slow breaths, graceful steps.

Slowly opening my laptop to catch up on everything I couldn’t yesterday.

On Monday, I woke up in extremely low spirits,  I was like God no! There’s no way I’m going back to that snappy old self.  That’s the thing, once you’ve genuinely tested the good side of life, something slight happens, and the fear of going to the awful life creeps in.

So yeah, Monday morning wasn’t really coming along well. I went back, inside my head and held an entire positive conversation about myself. 

Then I made a small prayer, then I reminded myself how I am entirely obsessed about myself now, that outwardly things shouldn’t really faze me like that. You know a literal bad b*.

And just like that, my day switched up for the good. I went to bed Monday night an extremely happy woman, grateful for how the entire day had played out.

Mastering how to get a grip is something I’m going to celebrate about myself for so long.

Anyway, Tuesday came and I woke up in a rush. Probably afraid of ruining the good momentum I’d built the previous day.

To cut the nitty gritty, it ended up being such a messed up day. I tried doing everything all at once, then I ended up accomplishing nothing.

At around 3:00 p.m.  My head was spinning. Disappointed that I’d wasted an entire day trying to do everything, and eventually accomplishing nothing.

I switched off my laptop. Switched off my internet. Put my phone on DND. Then I sat with myself.

I held another pep talk with myself. I needed it. I am happy to report that I went to bed happy and regulated again.

Slept soundly, until the door bell rang weirdly at 1:45 a.m.

Anyway I’ve woken up a happy girl and I have decided that I am going to slow down.

Gracefully approach everything on my to-do list. ( Technically, I do not have one written, I just have a content calendar that dictates how the rest of my day goes)

Maybe I should go back into actually having a to-do list.

Anyway, yeah. Today, I am literally slowing down. So technically I know my day is going to be long, asin I will finish most of my things later than I usually do. But I know it is going to be worth it.

Looking forward to how the rest of the day is going to be.

Cheers.

It could have been anyone

I was startled out of sleep in the ungodly hours of the night, 1:45 a.m to be specific.

Someone just randomly rang our door bell.

Not just me, even my mom was. Trixie, on the other end couldn’t stop barking.

Too scared to move, I couldn’t even manage getting out of my bed. So I decided on having a whole venting session inside my head, “Yani why would mom be expecting someone at this point of the night and think it is appropriately right for her not to give me a heads up. This isn’t even funny. This is upsetting.”

I was raging mad and scared all at once.

Waited to hear her getting up, to invite her guest in. Nothing. I thought I’d hear something, maybe her on a call with whoever was on the door, but nothing. At this point my fear was  escalating.

The bell didn’t just ring once, it rang twice. So yes, there was no way I was dreaming about that. And Trixie can never go wrong.

As I was busy having a whole ranting session inside my head, at least my mom (God bless her heart) had the courage to get up, peep outside…see if she could get a glimpse at our uninvited guest, who’d decided to grace us with their visit right in the middle of the night. 

Mom even managed to check the entire house.  I imagine she was tiptoeing, too afraid to make any sounds because I didn’t hear any movements while she was at it.

Listen, I was too scared to even breath, I’ve never known I can be startled to this extent.

Okay I had all the reasons to be. Why? Around my village, there’s a curfew now. There’s been two cases of guys just being maimed carelessly, in our neighbouring village. Just around our market. So the authorities decided, “no, it’s getting out of hand. Let’s put a curfew on from 9:00 p.m.”

See the whole point why I would go crazy scared.

I decided, let me ping mom’s phone. She didn’t pick. My scare moved a top notch higher.

So I thought, okay probably she’s equally too scared to speak. I left a text, “Kwani nani anaring bell sahi mum?” 

In no time, she was here in my bedroom.

Her heart racing, insanely.  For a small second I felt so bad for her.  She was way pissed, more than I was. “Who could be that?” I figured it was safer, if I didn’t answer that.

So I called my sister in-law, “Umeskia mtu amering bell?” Her on the other side, sounding so calm like I am the annoying person who’d just startled her out of her insanely beautiful sleep said, “hapana, lakini nashangaa mbona Trixie anabweka hivyo“

She wasn’t helping, so I hung up.

I got up, mom following me. I decided on switching on all the security lights. In my head I thought, probably that was going to intimidate whoever the person was, if at all they had any ill motives. 

Haaah! Such a heroic move from me. Right?

Anyway it seemed to calm my mom down a notch.

We headed towards our back porch, see whether we were going to catch a glimpse of anything. But there was nothing.

We checked everywhere, the little courage we had mastered could allow, but there was nothing.

It felt odd, because our gate was equally locked. 

After a few minutes of probing and having nothing forthcoming, we decide to go back and sleep. But stay alert.

It was so awkwardly scary.

At this point, I was calmer though, so I got back to bed, read psalms 91, said a prayer then just lay in bed thinking.

Eventually I slept off, I can’t tell at what time, because I know at 3:00 a.m I was pretty much still awake.

I’ve woken up to a beautiful morning.  Too beautiful to even tell we had an encounter at night.

Though I’m just like, “who the hell could have been that?”

It could have been anyone, but again what are the chances that things could have gone horribly wrong?

Cheers

Bleached or not, self-love isn’t skin-deep

“Every shade tells a story. Let’s stop shaming confidence and start celebrating it.”

Maybe it’s just my TikTok FYP, but lately, there’s been this unspoken pissing contest between girls who are bleaching their skin and those who are entirely comfortable in their natural tones.

It’s as if colorism just unlocked a new level.
Scrolling through the comment sections of those videos felt… weird. Almost like women who are secure and content in their skin are now being shamed for it. How did we even get here?

Colorism has always been around, yes. And so have the impossible beauty standards pushed on women globally.
But honestly? Whatever someone chooses to do with their body is ultimately their decision. I truly believe any woman who chooses to bleach her skin knows what she’s signing up for, she’s likely informed about the risks and long-term effects.

Still, I can’t help but think that a woman who is fully at peace in her natural skin has probably done some deep inner work.
Because self-love doesn’t come served on a silver platter. It’s earned.

Over time, I’ve learned to respect people’s choices, even if they differ from mine.

But if the decision to bleach comes from a wounded place, from self-hate or deep-seated insecurity… no amount of lightening cream will ever give you self-love. That journey starts within. You can’t bleach your way out of self-loathing. At least this is what I believe.

That said, I celebrate melanin. If I were a guy, I know exactly the kind of woman I’d be drawn to.
And even now, I know the kind of woman I admire. But that has never given me a reason to hate on the ones who don’t fit my personal preferences. I keep that to myself.

While we’re here, can we just let girls who are confident in their skin be?

This new wave of meanness, disguised as “colorism discourse”, is harming the very girls who are showing up authentically.

Colorism isn’t going anywhere, sadly. I’ve even had conversations with some of the smartest guys I know, and it was honestly heartbreaking hearing the subtle jabs and shady remarks they made.
Like, come on! We are  African. If you have a preference, fine. But don’t shame the other one.

And to my fellow women, please don’t let these beauty companies fool you. They’ve figured out how to profit from our insecurities.
So love yourself. For real. Eat well, hydrate, know your body. Monitor your hormones. Radiate love, from the inside out.

Start there maybe.

And please, maybe I’ll emphasize this a little harder…love yourself enough not to let society pressure you into doing something harmful to your skin just to meet a beauty standard rooted in centuries of shame and projection.

You’re more than that.
Love you.

Cheers.

The unimaginable

I just had a moment.
Like everyone else, I still can’t believe we are  the current adults now.

An old friend of mine, who’s a mom now (I have to remind myself of that every so often because, eiy 🤣), always says, “The smallest coffins are the hardest to carry.”

I’m not a mom yet. But I genuinely love babies. And somehow, babies just gravitate toward me.

So I get what she means.

Just this Wednesday, I wrote a letter in my diary to my future child. I even gave them a name, something unisex, for the balance.

My brother recently had a baby..Kibali. I’ve been with him since he was 0 days old. And honestly? I think, somewhere in his tiny heart, he might believe I’m his mom.
Okay, not to brag, but you should see how his face lights up every time he sees me. And he just turned three months old on Sunday.

He is my little darling right now. The reason my days feel lighter. When I see Kibali, it’s like everything turns to bliss.

Recently, someone in our neighborhood lost a child, not even a year old.
My heart broke for them.

I’ve been trying to imagine what they must be feeling. And all I know for sure is, it’s devastating.

I’ve lost my train of thought.
Some things are just too painful to imagine.