tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67069886215760354462024-03-05T20:27:52.781+03:00GemStoneSafyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-41991126134937974552016-12-12T15:57:00.001+03:002016-12-12T16:05:10.423+03:00Nougat's to be kidding me!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDA5bI4IWt6zc6tclep32F8HQEhX0He83U1sqoffLzKoD2rP0oqFTNIK2QXv-NJWPrIM9bUAgAnK4R1xSvUt84C7qm1axbqHKf-EbEBI3Q8NeRH-Viutmvt3OElgZqI9c9LfP0YdBb1_A/s1600/nougat.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDA5bI4IWt6zc6tclep32F8HQEhX0He83U1sqoffLzKoD2rP0oqFTNIK2QXv-NJWPrIM9bUAgAnK4R1xSvUt84C7qm1axbqHKf-EbEBI3Q8NeRH-Viutmvt3OElgZqI9c9LfP0YdBb1_A/s1600/nougat.png" /></a></div>
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I was apprehensive about having a very early version of
the new Nougat (Android 7) Operating System. It was pretty nifty at
first, then it started tearing at the seams. There was no Swype (I prefer to
swipe instead of typing), I couldn’t activate the tethering/portable hotspot
and Google Play wasn't working. I tried various updates, but to no avail. Then
I opted to remove the updates. I didn't know the folly of having done that
until later. Having failed to see the solution, I decided to downgrade back to
Marshmallow (Android 6).</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, for those who are using Cyanogenmod, there's usually
cause for worry (however little) when that ka robot icon stays flashing for too
long. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJ3ZGUQ3PiF57pV3ai48Gq2Js3kOqf6fyC9FOOnNq-dMCaKzFDVFbvVjaPEmpPaSnz2bWxHmmIVuAiDK9NrHIgjrxbpxvW9_d7bJB8CsWiYzEzhApKd9zEgoN0UbN2W817bk9zJiMxlI/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJ3ZGUQ3PiF57pV3ai48Gq2Js3kOqf6fyC9FOOnNq-dMCaKzFDVFbvVjaPEmpPaSnz2bWxHmmIVuAiDK9NrHIgjrxbpxvW9_d7bJB8CsWiYzEzhApKd9zEgoN0UbN2W817bk9zJiMxlI/s320/hqdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Mine was flashing for over 20 minutes. It was then that I knew something
was wrong. I realized that it was failing to load because there was a problem
with a cluster of important Google apps that are a prerequisite for android
(this cluster is called “Gapps”), because of the updates that I had removed earlier. My phone was stuck in an endless loop of <i>boot-load-fail-boot</i>. This wouldn’t have
been alarming except for two very defining traits of my phone;<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">#1 - It has a non-removable battery. No matter how
long I pressed the Power button, I couldn’t terminate the process. I also tried
other combinations but nothing worked. It would have been easier if I could
just remove the battery. Plus, the longer the phone stayed at this stage, the
hotter it got. If I’d thought of it earlier, I could have used it to iron a few
shirts.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">#2 - I like the battery life on my phone. It can
easily give me 20 hours of life with </span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">average
to heavy</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;"> usage. Little did I know that that trait would bite me in the
ribs. Being unable to remove the battery, I was doomed to waiting for the
process to run the battery out. Having started out with the battery at 74%, you
can imagine how long I had to wait. </span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Since I had already worked out the solution, I waited for the phone to wear itself out. I
resigned to watching a couple of movies. I had time for 2 movies (each 2 hours
long), and slept off sometime during the third one. When I woke up, the phone
had blacked out. I was halfway there. I charged it for a while as I waited for
midnight so I could load a night bundle. It was
going to be a data intensive recovery process. </div>
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<b><i>An important note: This exercise
is not for the faint-hearted, nor for those who have absolutely no idea what
they are doing (nor cannot follow simple, straight-forward instructions, nor
for those who can’t fill in the missing pieces). So, beware.</i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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So, I fired up the internet and looked for Gapps. I found a
version for 7.0, so while it was downloading, I proceeded with step one of the
recovery. <o:p></o:p>It was time to task the TWRP Manager (Team Win Recovery Project - a custom recovery image for Android-based devices).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy92QrGimhTefHP8adiyI2jwE0r-HYy8GlUk4DlU9hP03YSG4b7KFaSl1trqvqYpdvPrBSsi1nKik8YllN33WlipIbK9wNM6_I0gs161lmwV8vqZtw6D0zRDmMWJbvRs-3iRpmwwSQHZk/s1600/TWRP.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy92QrGimhTefHP8adiyI2jwE0r-HYy8GlUk4DlU9hP03YSG4b7KFaSl1trqvqYpdvPrBSsi1nKik8YllN33WlipIbK9wNM6_I0gs161lmwV8vqZtw6D0zRDmMWJbvRs-3iRpmwwSQHZk/s400/TWRP.png" width="225" /></a></div>
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Booting a rooted phone in <i>Recovery</i> mode is surreal. It’s like peeping behind the curtains of
a stage production. You may not understand everything you see, but you’ll at
least appreciate what goes on without your knowledge. Going through the
backdoors was like meeting a highly influential person without having to make
an appointment with the secretary, a system that’s meant to keep meddlers away
from the important. The first thing I had to do was <i>wipe </i>the phone’s system. That meant purging it of all the
disturbing pieces of code that were preventing it from working well in the
first place. It was like washing the onion stench off a chopping board so you
can slice oranges on it. I had to wipe the ‘system’ and ‘data’ partitions. This
meant that whatever other stuff was on the phone wouldn’t be erased, as opposed
to what would have happened if I’d opted for a ‘factory reset’. Plus, since the
phone wasn’t booting, I didn’t have the luxury to back up anything. It didn’t
take a lot of time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqCciphX9QaRJeoBaMLTQ1Oc-hRt8e1CWIVqXCokWEMXI9mQAWBPBXtfDvmcHqN2dX27YvqgzalC01Dp2r72K8bjLw_LpXMwkEMe3QJG4_ut2j0Kz2f-jNwjQm6ASO1RPmm-zfHSM0Ak/s1600/Nexus_6P_TWRP_Advanced_Wipe_Partitions.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqCciphX9QaRJeoBaMLTQ1Oc-hRt8e1CWIVqXCokWEMXI9mQAWBPBXtfDvmcHqN2dX27YvqgzalC01Dp2r72K8bjLw_LpXMwkEMe3QJG4_ut2j0Kz2f-jNwjQm6ASO1RPmm-zfHSM0Ak/s320/Nexus_6P_TWRP_Advanced_Wipe_Partitions.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next was to <i>flash </i>a
ROM onto the phone. “Flashing” is basically installing an OS onto a phone, in
simple terms. I had long since abandoned the idea of going back to Android 6,
so I flashed the Android 7.1.1 ROM. That operation went on without a hitch, to my
relief. After the phone had booted properly, it was just about ready for Gapps.
The download had since finished, so I copied it onto my phone’s root storage
and powered off. I rebooted it in recovery once more, and installed it. But it
gave me an error message. Said I was installing Gapps 7.0 yet my ROM was 7.1.1.
It was being finicky, eh? That was a small issue. I downloaded the proper Gapps
this time (after reading my fill of the error message, to be sure I didn’t miss
anything). I repeated the processes and this time I had a successful
installation. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Beaming from restoring my phone, I now had to go through the
tedious process of restoring (most of) my previous apps. Thankfully I had
loaded two ‘Happy Night’ bundles, and that Airtel internet wasn’t playing
around in terms of speed. Several hours later, my phone was feeling much better
than new. I’m now happily enjoying the new Android with its exciting new
features. And I got Swype back! The thing about Cyanogenmod is that the OS feels very light. As such,
the phone is faster and more responsive, giving me several excuses to be
swiping on my phone. I have also got the opportunity to appreciate the work of
early adopters. The whole trial and error process is as exhilarating as it can
be frustrating. But, as long as it works, it’s good, right?<o:p></o:p></div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-88941557779096094772016-11-25T16:21:00.000+03:002016-11-25T16:26:34.538+03:00UG Blog Week #5: Incite <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmjqsEFdpKOUoNWf_m8g1d6EHLRXP-7jMVz6H6vQ3oC8l4xBrCOo5sWbQYwdAaRuyk1IOrNaB09KWO2o9GXX0iB5R63Seka9CAZzObTD-c-fNzonEagHKCt01Ffc-sc9mYwf9kx8QcJA/s1600/vlcsnap-2015-10-10-15h04m47s130.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmjqsEFdpKOUoNWf_m8g1d6EHLRXP-7jMVz6H6vQ3oC8l4xBrCOo5sWbQYwdAaRuyk1IOrNaB09KWO2o9GXX0iB5R63Seka9CAZzObTD-c-fNzonEagHKCt01Ffc-sc9mYwf9kx8QcJA/s400/vlcsnap-2015-10-10-15h04m47s130.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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"<b>Incite - </b>encourage or stir up (violent or unlawful behavior)." - A vague rebellion reference.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Technology is a marvelous thing, mainly because humans are inherrently opposed to do work. Since time immemmorial, we have sought ways to ensure that something else does the work. From simple pulleys to intricate irrigation systems, from elaborate transport networks to complex industries. All that 'progress' points towards one specific direction - humans doing as little work as possible. </div>
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Now there's robotics, and artificial intelligence is seemingly not too far behind. What we have now are virtual personal assistants (for those who have smartphones, Siri is one of those). Artificial intelligence is as good a possibility as it is a frightening one. On the plus side, if technology ever negated human's need to exert themselves for their own survival and livelihood, that would be great. If artificial intelligence were to be in charge of the world's resources and were capable of operating as it deems fit, that would be an unprecedented leap. It would be within its means to create a utopia of sorts, but therein lies the problem.</div>
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I (currently) don't believe that humans would ever want a utopia. We can work our butts off towards creating an environment in which everyone and everything can thrive, but there's a trait I'll call the 'x-factor' that will not allow it to thrive. Humans are different, and it's those differences that cause the issues. There are things that humans are not willing to accept, even amongst themselves. There will always be opposition. Now, if technology is there to enforce a utopia, the mere fact that humans feel 'surpressed', even if it generally doesn't affect their livelihoods, there will be conflict and unrest. What makes it worse is that technology has no empathy. It wouldn't care what your opinions are or what you find insulting. As long as you're one 'positive' statistic in its database, everything's good. If you're in red, I'm sure there will be measures to deal with such scenarios. Those measures will be far from pleasant. Therefore, to have a utopia that can at least have a chance to exist, it would be a utopia devoid of complete freedom. Humans would have to exist with a level of docileness. They would have to accept at a subconsious level that things can only favourably move forward that way. After all, technology isn't selfish or self-serving. It does what it's created to do. And that's before the artificial intelligence even sets in.</div>
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All things considered, artificial intelligence would have
its undeniable benefits. It would definitely serve to make our lives easier.
And if it ever became sentient, it would be a huge leap forward. But for how
long would it be the servant? How long would it take for it to see the many
failures of humanity and decide that it would do a much better job of making
the world a better place for us to live in? That’s if we can assume that it has
humanity’s best interests at heart. Even if it did, unless it understands what
those are in the same way that humans do, it will give us what we’ll interpret
as a vague approximation of human interests. If we require safety, it will
confine us to our homes. If we want robust health, it will eliminate as soon as
possible those with terminal illnesses in order to ‘save resources’. If we want
food, it will deliver it to us, and we’ll become lethargic. If we want freedom,
it will create stiff rules within which we can enjoy that so-called
freedom. If we want peace, it will
monitor every activity of ours, ready to snuff out the slightest flame of
unrest. Whoever challenges its notion of peace will be labeled a dissident and
instantly removed. Whatever humanity wants, it will give the most grotesque
version available. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And why would it think otherwise? Because it would believe
that what it offers is an incorrigibly absolute solution that it thinks ‘accounts
for every human being on the planet’. Then will it have to change its
perspective to ours, or will we have to see things from its point of view?
While the former might be challenging, the fact that it would inevitably choose
the latter is scary.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A machine that relies on harmony and efficiency will never
comfortably deal with human error. And it will not accept it. It will ask you, “Why
don’t you want the world to be a better place for everyone?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Talk of constantly ‘getting to the root of the problem’.
It’s the classic case of ‘being a good servant but a bad master’. Would it have
the patience to teach, to see the potential in others? It would do horrendous
things in the name of the greater good. And all the while we’d be wondering
whose hands are the safest. Would it be capable of poetry? Would it have
discovered the well-spring of human creativity and thus be able to create at
will, without need for musing? Would it spend quality time pondering on the
vagaries of life and how they connect to the established order? Would it
understand that some choices, however horrific, need to be made? That it would
probably manage. The only problem would be that it would take it to the
absolute limit.</div>
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Most of the things that humans want are arbitrary, bound to numerous interpretations and misunderstandings. We might all want the same thing, but we'll still want it in different ways. As such, it would appear that freedom (on earth and in general) is a zero-sum game. Freedom always comes at someone else's expense. And most of the time, that freedom is not even freedom at all. It's veiled oppression/suppression, which is exactly what the artificial intelligence would offer. But you know one thing that's not arbitrary? Peace. Everyone knows peace. You can have peace, but freedom is another story altogether. You need rules to have peace. But freedom is the (apparent) absence of rules. As such, freedom (like perfection) will forever remain something we strive towards and inch closer to, but will never truly achieve.</div>
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<i>"We're not here because we're free. We're here because we're
not free. There is no escaping reason; no denying purpose. Because as we both know, without purpose, we would not exist."</i> - Agent Smith (The Matrix)</div>
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If freedom is an illusion, don't let it bother you too much. Take heart, you'll be free when you're dead.</div>
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#ugblogweek</div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-50456251193971265522016-11-24T16:56:00.002+03:002016-11-24T17:02:28.030+03:00UG Blog Week #4: Composite<div class="MsoNormal">
"<i style="font-weight: bold;">Composite </i>-<i style="font-weight: bold;"> </i>a thing made up of several parts or elements."</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m sitting outside on the verandah looking at the clouds, wondering if I’ll
need an umbrella. The darkness and foreboding get me thinking about her, wishing
I could Sia one more time. The weather reminds me of the last day I saw her. I
found her at my friend Justin’s near the Timberlake cottage. She tried to say sorry, but it was too late to apologize. I ran out of there as Swiftly as my Chuck Taylors could carry me. But when I reached for my Keys to open the car, I couldn't help but think about Alicia.</div>
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I remembered how we once took that Train to
Bastille for a Weeknd. At the station, we were greeted by a friendly Usher. He
told us there was a concert in town that we couldn’t miss. I thought to myself,
“This isn’t the kind of place a Young Thug like me would be. The Game done
changed me.” I asked where I could get A
Pass to the concert and he pointed me towards the Grande stand to talk to Ariana. But Alicia didn’t
want to go for a concert, so she suggested we go get ice cream.</div>
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We headed West towards the P-Square, holding hands and
brushing past The Chainsmokers. One of them stopped us asked if I could spare a
dollar. I told him I had a 50 Cent coin, but I’d need a Nickleback. He asked
why, I told him it belonged to my baby. She smiled, gave the guy a dollar, kissed
me on the cheek and called me an Ice Prince. For a long time, I had felt like
an Outkast and it bothered my Konshens. But it was then that I knew The Mith
was dispelled. Heck, I’m Meek, without even a Mill to my name. I’ve never even
touched Diamonds or Platnumz. The only things I had worth anything were my
2-Chains made of iron. The Future looked brighter, even though I could Imagine
Dragons trying to take her away from me. <o:p></o:p></div>
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She noticed the doubt on my face and said, “Baby, you make
me lose my mind like a kryptonian basking in the light of the Red San.” I could
have gone to war for her, taken to the skies to fight Twenty One Pilots. I
would give her the Goodlyfe that she deserved. Whenever she’d fuss I’d tell
her, “Bae, be cool! Here, have some wine.” When we got to our hotel, we kicked
back and turned on the TV. A Ugandan song was playing. She asked me, “I hear a
lot of men like her. Do you also Desire Luzinda?” I kissed her on the forehead
and told her she was my one and only Queen Sheebah. She said, “You’re a sly
Foxx, Jamie!” I’m like, “Nah. I’m just a Daft Punk crazy in love with you.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I was a fool for believing that she could stay with me. Now I'll never feel the same way about that Irene Ntale song. I thought she was my African queen, but she turned out to be 2-Face. As the first raindrops fall on my face, I can feel the Evanescence engulfing me. I just smile, sit back and I tell myself, "Now she's just somebody that I used to know."</div>
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<br />
#ugblogweek</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-81659243631274071712016-11-23T16:56:00.002+03:002016-11-23T16:56:56.652+03:00UG Blog Week #3: Erudite<div class="MsoNormal">
"<b>Erudite - </b>The smart ones, the ones value
knowledge and logic." - A vague <i>Divergent
Series</i> reference.<o:p></o:p></div>
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From what I hear, the world of <i>emceeing</i> is tough. Every now and then, an MC will be faced with a tough crowd
that they will have to wrestle with for the rest of the evening. Now, I don’t
know why some people think that PR people make good MCs. You might have
thought, “Well, his job is to talk to people, isn’t it?” It’s not the same
thing. Most times, PR guys have pre-scripted responses to the usual questions.
You’d think it would be easier at events where people don’t get to ask you
questions while you tick the boxes on your checklist. And just wearing the
fancy clothes and speaking in a fancy accent don’t cut it anymore. I'm not quite sure if it pays to be a snobbish MC either. I'll investigate further.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There’s the constant concern of competing with social media for attention. It must suck to be up there talking to people who aren’t showing a modicum of interest in what you’re saying. And here’s where the lot of them have the annoying habit of asking, “Can you hear me?” Of course we can hear you. You keep tapping the mic to make sure it’s on. We’re busy tweeting about how you’re being unentertaining or unsure of yourself. Besides, there are politer ways to catch the audience’s attention than simply barking at them to give you attention. </div>
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I was at an event once and this MC thought that his forced
‘British’ accent would show how debonair he was. The way he handled the event
was far from elegant. And you’d actually notice the change in accent whenever he
got frustrated by the audience. </div>
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Of course, it’s refreshing when you are at an event and the
MC has their stuff together. They speak with such understanding of what the
objective of the event is and their humor has a theme. Plus, they respect the
audience enough not to treat it like a kindergarten class. If you have to struggle to get people's attention, that just means there's something wrong with your methods. These are adults you're addressing. They won't be bullied or coerced into giving you attention simply because you're demanding it. You might even notice them glaring at you, impatiently waiting for you to say your peace and leave the stage. There
might be a few venerable guests talking amongst themselves and make you feel
like they’ll miss your point but that’s fine. Just smile and address the
person that’s listening (there’s always people listening that get peeved
whenever you break your train of thought to call for attention). As an MC, you must earn the attention of the audience. Don't assume that they'll just give it to you. You should know such things lest you one day find yourself in a situation where you're the poorest, least influential person in the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You know what could help? Tell stories. Of course it
helps a lot when you can link a story to one of the items on your list, but
people like stories. As an MC, you’re just the filler between events. You’re
like a valet, an announcer, a waiter. You know, you just fill in the gaps. But
you know that such people get tips, right? Not that you should expect tips for
being great. But you know that the good ‘fillers’ get remembered. The ordinary
ones are soon out of mind. The bad ones leave a stench on the whole event.
They’ll probably shun you forever. But even so, you should know the difference
between an MC, a pastor, a politician, an artiste, a guest speaker, guest of
honor, a comedian, a lecturer, and a teacher. If you can get a proper entertaining mix of the above, please go ahead. If you can't, stay in
your lane.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#ugblogweek</div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span>Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-16749527625464409472016-11-22T17:13:00.001+03:002016-11-22T17:13:26.223+03:00UG Blogweek #2: Sulphite<div class="MsoNormal">
"<b>Sulphites</b> - naturally occurring minerals that have a long
history of use in foods. They naturally occur in some foods but are widely used
as an additive to prevent microbial spoilage and preserve colour.
Cordials, dried fruit, sausages and wine are some of the foods that commonly
contain sulphites." - A vague alcohol reference.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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There's been a lot of birthdays this year, and it's fast becoming a common theme to imbue the celebrant with 'small doses of intoxicant in numerous quantities'. I think they do this so the person doesn't suspect a thing. It's only the guys delivering the doses that truly know how much you've taken. You just know that at some point, "shots!" is the shout you like the least. All you're normally left with is a headache, a missing shoe, a strange scarf, and a disdainful guradian angel. But, there’s always that party that’s different from all others.
Maybe it’s the jolly people or the quality of consumables, but things
become interesting. After you consume a healthy amount of laced food and drink,
the camaraderie keeps improving. Now, some people are unable to keep track of what's happening to them, so let me fill you in on what to look out for as you feel your self-control slip away.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stage One – Excessive Laughter</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMOgOeqCrDDWGxLCIYuGapWr27ChfpMT02pan3N2Fx0xAJR4gkfkg792L9QduJxpPaXLWOjL3zOdFvghEbofDvDWVKdBcxe3ENFL7jCxZyVbNfvWG26n0v0KUmlxs9_jeK1vJ5kGLDmM/s1600/shots_08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDMOgOeqCrDDWGxLCIYuGapWr27ChfpMT02pan3N2Fx0xAJR4gkfkg792L9QduJxpPaXLWOjL3zOdFvghEbofDvDWVKdBcxe3ENFL7jCxZyVbNfvWG26n0v0KUmlxs9_jeK1vJ5kGLDmM/s320/shots_08.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’re vigilant, you’ll notice that everything around you
is funny. You’d swear the neighbourhood dog was walking on its hind feet,
propped up like a human in heels. At this point, you don’t realize that you can
no longer gently put the glass on the table. Also, this is where the soberer ones keep pushing your glass away from the edge of the table. Doesn't stop you from breaking out those amusing stories you've been keeping to yourself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stage Two – Loss of Balance and rhythm</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAt1JrvD9SOjwZETrG0qcsCr5abPxxiRFymKE2QCYG7XWdJcCyGQfTDVXYqnMBGVtScau7bu1EVFaYfsrG2xZvncGKmbQ6LKIYknARp8U0yNCZR6FFVU5rkn1-jQoNvGoxks5EEMU2L8/s1600/shots_05.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZAt1JrvD9SOjwZETrG0qcsCr5abPxxiRFymKE2QCYG7XWdJcCyGQfTDVXYqnMBGVtScau7bu1EVFaYfsrG2xZvncGKmbQ6LKIYknARp8U0yNCZR6FFVU5rkn1-jQoNvGoxks5EEMU2L8/s320/shots_05.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are lost, stuck in the middle. You can barely stand
straight and you can’t dance. But you’re filled with so much enthusiasm that
even reading the title of a random book will be intense. This is where you
start spilling little secrets. For some reason, you can still input the pattern
on your phone and even see the time. Your depth perception has gone on
vacation. Panic will set in as you fearfully believe that everything on the snacks table was spiked, and you consumed them in generous amounts. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stage Three – Depreciation of Sight</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1iv9jE9X_Sc3dXEji-xzJ5VAOsZmavoLk43WoYc2wnDh21Y_SUZ12xdccE13TAjKlVVd85nk8VqbbX5Z44LHF3t_iexekLUOGi6Y_HRjFhVfGjJco6V4oFt8IhhS0cudoMYdGPgc-cI/s1600/shots_02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy1iv9jE9X_Sc3dXEji-xzJ5VAOsZmavoLk43WoYc2wnDh21Y_SUZ12xdccE13TAjKlVVd85nk8VqbbX5Z44LHF3t_iexekLUOGi6Y_HRjFhVfGjJco6V4oFt8IhhS0cudoMYdGPgc-cI/s320/shots_02.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At this point everything is in quadruplicate, blurry, neon-like
and/or ethereal. You're floating in and out of consciousness, and you're just vaguely aware of your surroundings. Since your eyesight is not worth a damn, you practically get
around by echolocation. Most people will black out at this point, unable to deal with the sensory deprivation. If you stay awake, your mind will go blank for unspecified periods. You might be talking, but you can be sure you'll remember little of it 12 hours later. All your muscles will be feeling like putty so it will require tremendous willpower to keep it together. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: center;">
Stage Four – Near-total loss of senses</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YNFfgXiE89FjxmYGolzU_TILYm0v_JYrSRkEYa1MUPdHO9V5dR-h9Fbi2SnmVePqKFvcOoIhi0n5CsdMmMRZqwiqwlwYV53_c4KS3R-bwj5qJEvCjTYmku-2Yx_4aNEC39upSMXAXmM/s1600/shots_07.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5YNFfgXiE89FjxmYGolzU_TILYm0v_JYrSRkEYa1MUPdHO9V5dR-h9Fbi2SnmVePqKFvcOoIhi0n5CsdMmMRZqwiqwlwYV53_c4KS3R-bwj5qJEvCjTYmku-2Yx_4aNEC39upSMXAXmM/s320/shots_07.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your mind is starting to wake up, but your body is still
getting the remnants out of its system. You never know when you’re going to throw up, but you
pray that you’ll get home before anything embarrassing happens. If you are being driven home, you'll notice that your inner compass, and thus sense of direction, are out of whack. Every road ahead will appear as an incline. It feels pretty much like you're in a slow-moving rollercoaster. Except that your sense of relative motion and time has also disappeared. Everything seems to have slowed down. Well, either that or the driver is indeed driving slow. The jury is still outon that one, so I'll need a few more tests.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now that you are aware of what goes on without your awareness, remember to celebrate responsibly.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qOZ77WjIhh7ZLVkvn-987dJ-CSV07NaN_yOQJLMqeWg3LbSZ1wIywR-xErMfp45gfHlMWJXtWRYRoTfj0-AT1SeUfIMA2Ef3yVYGEJp5zaJchyphenhyphenpiZ5MCfDzoY5WxoI_cG5POWz88lX4/s1600/shots_06.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6qOZ77WjIhh7ZLVkvn-987dJ-CSV07NaN_yOQJLMqeWg3LbSZ1wIywR-xErMfp45gfHlMWJXtWRYRoTfj0-AT1SeUfIMA2Ef3yVYGEJp5zaJchyphenhyphenpiZ5MCfDzoY5WxoI_cG5POWz88lX4/s320/shots_06.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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#ugblogweek</div>
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Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-51138714135469689522016-11-21T15:18:00.000+03:002016-11-21T15:21:01.691+03:00UG Blogweek #1: Carbonite<div class="MsoNormal">
"<b>Carbonite</b> - a fictitious liquid substance that
was made from carbon gas and could change into a solid through rapid
freezing. Goods could be encased in carbonite for preservation, through a
process known as carbon-freezing." - A Star Wars reference.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They often say a picture is worth 1000 words. But there are
pictures that are capable of rendering me speechless. It’s a record of an
activity that’s boiled down in one single moment that tells you everything you
need to know. It tells you the weather, the mood, the tone, the context, the
subtext, the plot, the character… Man, I wish I had the “photographer’s eye”.
They say the best photogs know how to predict a moment. They set their cameras,
adjust filters, work out the zoom and composition, and wait for the inevitable
moment to fall into place. It’s like clairvoyance. Most of us will only be
aware of the moment <i>at the time</i> it’s
happening. But it’s different in film. The photography director sets up the
scenes so they can add subtext to the overall story. Much like in real life,
they give you defining moments to capture and keep for remembrance. To that end, I’ve gathered a few
screenshots over time that I found ‘interesting’. Here are some of them, and I’ll
share with you why.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Pain<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLO_ZVc58J0vv9z_5UijF7fgOL7f-_U8hn88K4fRvI8Ow1RH8A5u2F8uY6OVHJFBHz9AiKofovG2TWpCzx9ijT524ZH0NT5OlFct6mmDovkvN5sMsCtPGGR2rBI26wRV0NDQuNBGJqWKU/s1600/vlcsnap-2013-09-08-03h30m17s21.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLO_ZVc58J0vv9z_5UijF7fgOL7f-_U8hn88K4fRvI8Ow1RH8A5u2F8uY6OVHJFBHz9AiKofovG2TWpCzx9ijT524ZH0NT5OlFct6mmDovkvN5sMsCtPGGR2rBI26wRV0NDQuNBGJqWKU/s320/vlcsnap-2013-09-08-03h30m17s21.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - World War Z</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After burning up what they thought were the only affected
people before the world was engulfed in a zombie apocalypse. The charred
remains show you just what kind of situation was at hand before the victims went up in flames.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Foreshadowing</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39OTxKCt3_N8b31PtX6JBmZ3R4MiDU-JcboshyYdxRMvQEj229IedPJSRKLF_zxclapwAdS8Y9XfqGyNXyMzgE9Pcvu-8r5b75LZLht0IDVhh8wYXv6V8BzcDNAWSBoZe8oIFhMA3ODc/s1600/vlcsnap-2013-09-12-14h59m20s56.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj39OTxKCt3_N8b31PtX6JBmZ3R4MiDU-JcboshyYdxRMvQEj229IedPJSRKLF_zxclapwAdS8Y9XfqGyNXyMzgE9Pcvu-8r5b75LZLht0IDVhh8wYXv6V8BzcDNAWSBoZe8oIFhMA3ODc/s320/vlcsnap-2013-09-12-14h59m20s56.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - 10 Things I Hate About You</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The lighting
just happened to give Mr. Ledger’s hair a green tint, which was like
foreshadowing for his defining role as The Joker in The Dark Knight. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
2 Birds, 1 Camera<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdxArV45hWfiZqFr_GdTKoeAMxdxZ4PGrNW0NmUz876j58DihQ1zkDbRuyWlUP459uCKt_Z3MaWI5pB_8KwDMs3X6ZcEd5yYm6Ezr4YnCyjDjVdaug_BOVwA1QOS47O1CtvJE4X_dFoM/s1600/vlcsnap-2013-10-10-12h22m29s200.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdxArV45hWfiZqFr_GdTKoeAMxdxZ4PGrNW0NmUz876j58DihQ1zkDbRuyWlUP459uCKt_Z3MaWI5pB_8KwDMs3X6ZcEd5yYm6Ezr4YnCyjDjVdaug_BOVwA1QOS47O1CtvJE4X_dFoM/s320/vlcsnap-2013-10-10-12h22m29s200.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Parks & Recreation</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do you show two people conversing face to face, at the
same time showing both their faces simultaneously?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Bobba Fett<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyUBoda5IwEcOYJHprDrg7JzzCvRDpO2715sQN8cPYMDWmCGnb_no3mMNtckwagp3_SlwcV_vfg_yAuoB6B_JAPXko6m1mnD0oMtmuOX8iaxSpeY3diJEF3qSuuH-gC7dNhjEna7FH_E/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-01-05-15h04m48s228.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQyUBoda5IwEcOYJHprDrg7JzzCvRDpO2715sQN8cPYMDWmCGnb_no3mMNtckwagp3_SlwcV_vfg_yAuoB6B_JAPXko6m1mnD0oMtmuOX8iaxSpeY3diJEF3qSuuH-gC7dNhjEna7FH_E/s320/vlcsnap-2014-01-05-15h04m48s228.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The young Boba takes up the decapitated head of his father,
Jango Fett. It is then that he decides to follow in his daddy’s shoes and
become a famous galactic bounty hunter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sherlock girls<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSNfb4KJuwr1i5Tm4cMCjPLUre21AdarH_uoZMXTpZVmsdQdeGgY6FzLmaez8SQv4Fz1KGBBlyUwdmnAE79UadiGS0wjDW8ecEk8gawtqBI_PHZWtWGf_jhhFgxCJRT91O_SytUeQ_Pg/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-01-07-15h36m50s64.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhSNfb4KJuwr1i5Tm4cMCjPLUre21AdarH_uoZMXTpZVmsdQdeGgY6FzLmaez8SQv4Fz1KGBBlyUwdmnAE79UadiGS0wjDW8ecEk8gawtqBI_PHZWtWGf_jhhFgxCJRT91O_SytUeQ_Pg/s320/vlcsnap-2014-01-07-15h36m50s64.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Sherlock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On the left is the girl who likes him. On the right is the
girl he likes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Purple Wedding<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkbkX8xSTrkgrlGFz3UEKjzdgEXIuNHzAKKFQXmG0xmXo5dgqWSJ2FU4CpTQbVAIKKNJ9U3ebNoYWJgDrZjvh5tdB9ShBuWVN1jODvJ5DuRIDJDDTyLUjxeBAKk5-GmU29W6ZBU1BMuU/s1600/vlcsnap-2014-04-15-01h19m40s63.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkbkX8xSTrkgrlGFz3UEKjzdgEXIuNHzAKKFQXmG0xmXo5dgqWSJ2FU4CpTQbVAIKKNJ9U3ebNoYWJgDrZjvh5tdB9ShBuWVN1jODvJ5DuRIDJDDTyLUjxeBAKk5-GmU29W6ZBU1BMuU/s320/vlcsnap-2014-04-15-01h19m40s63.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Game Of Thrones</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can feel like something bad is about to happen, despite
the cheery applauses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Kings’ Face<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_5KKPYCRM57458v6udSv34gMcnJrh1Cju4T0BdDPwrkDxz8rLsKGUedQucN0cFy3Szb61Dn2EWlUs10JDTXQk8uNziC5J7ge2Pr4u38Z2ZLX_b53u7h2jPC1_LBs7Q9T5Tva_iq9ark/s1600/vlcsnap-2015-09-30-19h51m31s8.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF_5KKPYCRM57458v6udSv34gMcnJrh1Cju4T0BdDPwrkDxz8rLsKGUedQucN0cFy3Szb61Dn2EWlUs10JDTXQk8uNziC5J7ge2Pr4u38Z2ZLX_b53u7h2jPC1_LBs7Q9T5Tva_iq9ark/s320/vlcsnap-2015-09-30-19h51m31s8.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - The Hobbit: The Desolation Of Smaug</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When someone keeps telling you that they’re supposed to be
king, and then the 'castle wall' agrees with them. It’s ‘written’ on the wall.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The Mark of the Captain<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW-7wAL3SoFBbhwYdUkClo4559kjy86wo64DIhWadkuKjsOG3p4GEfDwszvEhLkorolGHee_pDsYDZ4SOvS3W_uM1PFqqbsHJ0-2gvACv6bMPhqJpbW9t_z9ha3mxldII6xKtqTS8LXQ/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-01-26-18h13m13s200.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPW-7wAL3SoFBbhwYdUkClo4559kjy86wo64DIhWadkuKjsOG3p4GEfDwszvEhLkorolGHee_pDsYDZ4SOvS3W_uM1PFqqbsHJ0-2gvACv6bMPhqJpbW9t_z9ha3mxldII6xKtqTS8LXQ/s320/vlcsnap-2016-01-26-18h13m13s200.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Space Pirate Captain Harlock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One captain leaves, another one takes his place, along with
the seemingly hereditary mark of captainship. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Captain Lift<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6UfbI4s5xpx99Xq8TuuQWA3Nd8iLDTajVp5KNGq0lK1aLLMN6fQl5r08-CmvkD8mBxiwi7SWko7hWuXeO7oD6W-Nmly2aI_0oZNhDQiGZ_KJiF_Z-23nznkZ6vXD9tqs5-Vkp_YkoiE/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-04-21-09h37m50s109.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU6UfbI4s5xpx99Xq8TuuQWA3Nd8iLDTajVp5KNGq0lK1aLLMN6fQl5r08-CmvkD8mBxiwi7SWko7hWuXeO7oD6W-Nmly2aI_0oZNhDQiGZ_KJiF_Z-23nznkZ6vXD9tqs5-Vkp_YkoiE/s320/vlcsnap-2016-04-21-09h37m50s109.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Captain America: The Winter Soldier</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Captain America is not a mere man, that he should be
defeated by a lift full of highly trained military operatives. Apparently, the
numbers count for nothing when you’re ‘superior’ in every way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Identity Crisis<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYy-VOCJ2hFTYGIqM69Cy1LBTM8qpK4DgA4xCBvV6jD7bNLxJ8fk0Joj7pTgvg7HUqJTI37FjyrUOSMGgY8u1VxOreVnovpaDLdjbMiafv0mkYMYw5U7dJb0MVeffoL_msqOJ7co-F7Q/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-07-04-12h50m00s587.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYy-VOCJ2hFTYGIqM69Cy1LBTM8qpK4DgA4xCBvV6jD7bNLxJ8fk0Joj7pTgvg7HUqJTI37FjyrUOSMGgY8u1VxOreVnovpaDLdjbMiafv0mkYMYw5U7dJb0MVeffoL_msqOJ7co-F7Q/s320/vlcsnap-2016-07-04-12h50m00s587.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Kipepeo (Jaguar)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, a musician (Jaguar) decides to floss in a luxury car
(Bentley), and I’m wondering whether it wouldn’t have been more apt to floss in
a Jaguar (car).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Fealty<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSITEk2LnIw9tqz23RN2zRvSaypGRy3g4cg9atSSfxnWrYTmeEuTRBRuOTfci5XVhuYdjGXfMh-bpFjJi71fT19aaM9wE6i7GoaQty9oewSEbTKQOMPHIL4EwGTAl_3g88bV_stQzAcvI/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-08-24-19h04m19s401.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSITEk2LnIw9tqz23RN2zRvSaypGRy3g4cg9atSSfxnWrYTmeEuTRBRuOTfci5XVhuYdjGXfMh-bpFjJi71fT19aaM9wE6i7GoaQty9oewSEbTKQOMPHIL4EwGTAl_3g88bV_stQzAcvI/s320/vlcsnap-2016-08-24-19h04m19s401.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - One Piece</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What it means to follow someone, in some scenarios. Apparently, people get tattoos to show fealty. Us normal people simply wear company shirts. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Wishful Thinking</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PjoeDjlCuq9PP3gbOgBVcZ8L4HdI4Sf868VxIkEmIDF3I9g-eoT_gwrtJWnIiQOUaTLzYVZJvXavNnOhC8ngSQyQ-5up0QLfcSAR_pnz2gVxWWlFKHf580KJh3HrfHy59c-Lr85JYnE/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-10-01-13h11m57s789.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7PjoeDjlCuq9PP3gbOgBVcZ8L4HdI4Sf868VxIkEmIDF3I9g-eoT_gwrtJWnIiQOUaTLzYVZJvXavNnOhC8ngSQyQ-5up0QLfcSAR_pnz2gVxWWlFKHf580KJh3HrfHy59c-Lr85JYnE/s320/vlcsnap-2016-10-01-13h11m57s789.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Luke Cage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He thought he would be the king of Harlem, like Notorious BIG
before him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Surgeon of Death<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCI-IBqVdO1xsQeKjRRwXjHYpXN2uVHFyUXqTBbgv4jqTLzT0q-hQXiRyzm_1BFePXSgVnqcW0fDH4wdsl4fCSvLyduYeke0XSbqj4hC-7iqEwrTcZ0GskveTn0S74oRQ55TQ6I7mbzQ/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-10-14-18h20m21s617.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLCI-IBqVdO1xsQeKjRRwXjHYpXN2uVHFyUXqTBbgv4jqTLzT0q-hQXiRyzm_1BFePXSgVnqcW0fDH4wdsl4fCSvLyduYeke0XSbqj4hC-7iqEwrTcZ0GskveTn0S74oRQ55TQ6I7mbzQ/s320/vlcsnap-2016-10-14-18h20m21s617.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - One Piece</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s a death-dealing pirate, a skilled swordsman and a
medical doctor. Ironic, isn’t it? He’s actually nicknamed “The Surgeon of
Death.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sins of the Father<o:p></o:p></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRAjtdTeDTlFkgsBdnP6mP3Prvw1j5CsVHiijqfk8zOOVOfho2M1Y3kmAmbN-R6kFhs58yNFjFqtY3kqcswijE_cmK2xyT5gUcULw7uKS5BeYADKbXcc_Of4uCz3uN0WDLjHJLazUhlE/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-11-14-18h17m26s725.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRAjtdTeDTlFkgsBdnP6mP3Prvw1j5CsVHiijqfk8zOOVOfho2M1Y3kmAmbN-R6kFhs58yNFjFqtY3kqcswijE_cmK2xyT5gUcULw7uKS5BeYADKbXcc_Of4uCz3uN0WDLjHJLazUhlE/s320/vlcsnap-2016-11-14-18h17m26s725.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source - Tyrant</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are bound to repeat the sins of our fathers if we do not
learn from them. No wonder people like to know who someone’s father is. I’m not
sure about this, but I think a lot of people would love to say, “You are indeed
your father’s son,” or “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Let me go and acquire "the photographer's eye". I also want to take pretty pictures or set up awesome visuals some day. I shall not live on writing alone.<br />
<div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbVp_npYjqJb4e-2dDEW9yyBlJs5OfMk0gUIybSzjxJq12xIoOHyhGz_5Cm2TqlzkJ2ZbYX7aZ0dC10Tg_ARUg3thzmb4YtginVNHYxwFXC9RP04JYpdJIzIRcYIMdgbhUWWeuolI7LU/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-09-29-16h19m06s801.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbVp_npYjqJb4e-2dDEW9yyBlJs5OfMk0gUIybSzjxJq12xIoOHyhGz_5Cm2TqlzkJ2ZbYX7aZ0dC10Tg_ARUg3thzmb4YtginVNHYxwFXC9RP04JYpdJIzIRcYIMdgbhUWWeuolI7LU/s320/vlcsnap-2016-09-29-16h19m06s801.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
#ugblogweek<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-90608561265166385452016-09-15T13:48:00.000+03:002016-09-15T13:48:06.528+03:00Featuring: The Hot Revolution<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjceswBF9rLi-0XXfRQRuKnwOGiM-6HdxEeQWUaz0hMyVxhXOfn3t5fXVoTwffFQN9zk-Ll_4qwzgwL0gpNxmM2v5laUgGb4VkjoIl99d2CVM1LI-niIIW1JwGtjT-exBL-Fli3BsiIA/s1600/pitbull-publicity.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVjceswBF9rLi-0XXfRQRuKnwOGiM-6HdxEeQWUaz0hMyVxhXOfn3t5fXVoTwffFQN9zk-Ll_4qwzgwL0gpNxmM2v5laUgGb4VkjoIl99d2CVM1LI-niIIW1JwGtjT-exBL-Fli3BsiIA/s400/pitbull-publicity.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The music industry is as diverse and ever-shifting as it is brutal. As such, there are artists that burst onto the scene with freshness and gusto, only to wither away quicker than a child demolishes a cloud of cotton candy. Most of the time, such artists fade to oblivion, only to resurface years later with renewed resolve. There are also those who stick to themselves the label of 'upcoming artist' to further maintain and justify their mediocrity in most cases. But honestly, you can't be an upcoming artist for 10 years. That's just not right.<br />
<br />
The more popular way out for the true hustlers is a little secret called 'featuring'. Yeah, it's actually quite lucrative, by the looks of things. Not only do you remain in the public eye and ear for a considerable period, it demands less work than doing an entire song/album by yourself. So, if you find yourself low on creative juices, just find more hardworking people to let you feature in their songs. But, here's a few things to consider if you intend to feature:<br />
<br />
#1. Never ever steal the spotlight from the main artist. Hardworking people don't like to be upstaged, more so if it's their own song. So, don't be yelling your own name mid-song. Trust me, it's a long road, but if you have a distinct featuring style, you'll learn that "less is more" in the field of featuring. Keep your verses and hooks short and simple. Relax, it's easy money and exposure after all.<br />
<br />
#2. Consider younger, talented upcoming artists. If it works out, you'll be seen as a visionary artist, capable of recognizing talent early. Plus, you'll give the beginners some much needed exposure, and it still won't cost you much. At this point you'll even look like a consultant. You want to be seen as a consultant, trust me.<br />
<br />
#3. Find an artist who compliments your style. If you're a rapper, find an awesome vocalist, and vice versa. History has shown that people like variety within the same song. Look at Moze Radio and Weasel, or Nicki Minaj and Chris Brown, or Tyga and everyone else.<br />
<br />
#4. If you can't find an artist to feature you, just find a DJ with sick beats and provide vocals. Much as this is the more annoying side of featuring, it is still useful. It's annoying because you will do all the rapping/singing, but it still won't be your song. Look at (DJ) Calvin Harris for instance. He's managed to work with talented vocalists like Rihanna and Ellie Goulding. Such collaboration has actually worked for both parties. Plus, Ellie seems to have taken to featuring like a duck to water. Guess she accidentally discovered her calling.<br />
<br />
#5. Sometimes you're not a good enough artist to wander the musical journey on your own. You'll need to realize that you're meant to be a sidekick. So, the sooner you find a front(wo)man to feature you, the better for your budding musical career. And don't feel bad about it. Teamwork is a good thing, even though solo efforts are often more recognized. But, you don't see Daft Punk complaining, do you? I'm sure most of you have been to a (classy) restaurant before. Some meals require a fork and a knife. I say classy because much as your hands would easily negate the need for cutlery, it isn't exactly appropriate behaviour in such places. Therefore, in some songs, one must be the 'fork' and the other must be the 'knife'.<br />
<br />
#6. Enjoy it. You get to meet different artists with different styles and different points of view. Learn from them, adapt and find a middle ground that allows both of you to flourish. A collabo isn't meant to sound like a competition so don't try to outdo each other. Hold hands and make like besties. Sing kumbaya if it helps. Just give us the listeners the best both worlds to offer.<br />
<br />
Bonus: To be truthful, some songs are much better when featuring someone. Just look at any Top 10 rankings on any chart. At least half of them feature someone. That simply shows you just how important these collabos are for us listeners.<br />
<br />
Since not all the artists can make it big on their own, some of them have to swallow their pride and misconceptions and just tread the acceptable ground of featuring. Pitbull made a career out of it, and so can you. Actually, there's a lot of artists whose careers are solely dependent on featuring, so don't shun it. Strut it!<br />
<br />
A final request: Please state, in your own opinion, who you think the greatest 'featurer' is. Thank you.Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-33799000148347982812016-08-12T16:49:00.000+03:002016-08-12T16:51:54.676+03:00How to spend your Sunday, according to Facebook timelines.<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZALac0O7hQ7bvo3pJHzksWXrYf16_4Pkfxa5Z9HjSn_kbRcZ7tzkYMxpzMgSMONVCugOofpWGwAiMSGWBORzcCYfnu7JxoEuWN1ynO3yuBTJ3HwC13jerQvg2AIengcR81oIj-Pia8pU/s1600/IMAG0939.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZALac0O7hQ7bvo3pJHzksWXrYf16_4Pkfxa5Z9HjSn_kbRcZ7tzkYMxpzMgSMONVCugOofpWGwAiMSGWBORzcCYfnu7JxoEuWN1ynO3yuBTJ3HwC13jerQvg2AIengcR81oIj-Pia8pU/s320/IMAG0939.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The subject matter, in most cases. It was either this, or a selfie.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sundays are normally a day for one to kick back and relax
after a (usually) stressful week and an energy-sapping Saturday. In fact, if
you woke up on Sunday morning with a hangover, you could opt for other ‘civil’
activities that don’t make you feel guilty about not going to church. You know,
something to aid you along your sow walk towards the mundane week that looms
ahead. But you don’t have to be miserable as you wait for the inevitable. You
need to do something to while the time away. If nothing comes to mind apart from spending
the day half-dead, watching a boring series on your laptop between periods of
consciousness, you should consider being somewhere other than home. There’s a
whole list of places to be but no matter where you are, here’s what you should
do:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#1 - Be outdoors. If you can’t find a decent enough compound
with plenty of shade, then a balcony will do. Just make sure you’re not
surrounded by walls on all sides. There should be a free moving breeze, enough to
blow the steam from your cup of tea in wisps. Also, there must be trees and/or
flowers within your immediate periphery. Staring at trees in the distance doesn’t
cut it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#2 - Meet good friends. Good friends are those with whom you
don’t need loud music to buffer periods of awkward silences. Normally, the quieter
the music the better. After all, there’s still that lingering headache from the
previous night to take into account. You seriously don’t need any more techno
or trap music. Plus, you can talk about anything with good friends when the
music is mellow.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#3 - Eat nice food. Chill those things of eating your
regular rolex for lunch. That was only tasty last night when you were piss
drunk. On Sunday, your appetite and sense of taste have fully returned and thus
you must put them to good use. Find a place with gourmet food on some sort of
discount, if you don’t have aspiring chefs for friends. If you do, you're in luck. These ones are always
on the lookout for guinea pigs for their culinary experiments. And you’ll have
little to complain about. You’ll be on the receiving end of some pretty awesome
stuff cooked by a (semi)talented cook with a somewhat low self-esteem. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#4 - Drink a little. It could be wine or a bit of the
stronger stuff, since you’re an adult. Are you 12 years old? Why are you taking
soda on a Sunday afternoon? Take a few shots. You know, just to help with
digestion. Not to get drunk. But you have to look civilized. You have to show
the world that you are capable of drinking responsibly. Besides, there’s
nothing like a little bliss to help take your mind off the stress that’s only a
few hours away.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#5 - Make sure you’re with people of the opposite gender.
There must be something in your life that doesn’t depict you as a sexist
douche-bag who can’t have genuine friends of the opposite gender. Whatever the
case, Sunday is not meant for such behaviour. You need to be a well-balanced
person. If it’s not family you’re chilling with, it’s most definitely friends. Make sure you talk about that day so much that other friends (and assorted acquaintances) will be asking
you (to join them or to join you) for plot next Sunday, seeing as you’re such
an active person.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
#6 - Take pictures. You’ve got to take plenty of pictures.
And then choose a handful of the best ones to post on social media to show your
friends how ‘full of life’ you are.<o:p></o:p></div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-41981166146189482812016-05-04T20:55:00.001+03:002016-05-05T10:08:20.489+03:00Road To Civil War<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFs06JET4CRG1199SWHdSY0bQX-MoAzNV2K_ny2SNLrKMpxfxqZtNBPPLmp7TXgCjCwDZnbYqL3MNQCMoSnUFfleXVN1D9KCgKhBT67XYm0hGA1pTDaAVYldNgCbLVRWASThMa0-hCbI/s1600/tumblr_o4afaq59Yn1uuve6po1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFs06JET4CRG1199SWHdSY0bQX-MoAzNV2K_ny2SNLrKMpxfxqZtNBPPLmp7TXgCjCwDZnbYqL3MNQCMoSnUFfleXVN1D9KCgKhBT67XYm0hGA1pTDaAVYldNgCbLVRWASThMa0-hCbI/s400/tumblr_o4afaq59Yn1uuve6po1_1280.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Avengers (Dis)Assemble?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The long wait is almost over. The biggest superhero
get-together consists of a cast that is only rivalled by Fox’s X-Men. With the
exception of Thor and the Hulk, the Avengers find themselves battling their
most challenging foe yet; the government.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">about</i> the
heroes as much as it is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">because</i> of
the heroes.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The government has always wanted to be at the top of the
food chain. It sees itself as the alpha and the omega of human civilization,
nay, human existence. It simply can’t bear with the fact that there are beings
whose power exceeds their wildest imaginations. They want in on the glory, the
power and the action. And what better way to do that than to vilify the very
people who save the world.</div>
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It is going to be a multi-layered movie. It’s about just one
friend (Captain America) doing all he can to protect his friend (Winter
Soldier) at the expense of another friend (Iron Man). It’s about the government
that wants to ‘control’ these heroes to achieve certain goals for the sake of
peace. Call it ‘redistribution of resources’. They call it providing oversight
to the heroes’ activities. It’s about a party that intends to destroy the
establishment by setting friends against each other. When the dust settles,
they will build a new one in the ashes of the old world. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the centre of it all is the mysterious absence of Nick
Fury. He’s the one who worked tirelessly to keep the Avengers out of the hands
of the government. Without him, the sharks are out for blood. They may even
orchestrate disasters just to get public sentiment against the heroes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why Nick Fury? Because he’s been seeking a means to use
their power for the good of the earth from the very beginning, and the council
opposed him even then. They didn’t want to have to thank anyone but themselves.
They believe that the people should trust their own governments rather than individuals.
Hence, they label them ‘vigilantes’. They seemingly operate without any
oversight. But that is false from the get-go. Ever since New York, they have
operated under Nick Fury’s watchful eye (hehe). With him believed to be dead
and SHIELD disbanded, the power vacuum is there for the taking. And Tony Stark
wants to fill that void. Now, if there’s anyone that manages to deal with the
government, it’s Tony Stark. It’s also an attempt by the government to have
someone else to blame for their mistakes. They’re disavowing the people who
cleaned up their messes. Remember that they are the ones who wanted to nuke New
York while the Avengers were dealing with the Chitauri? Unlike heroes,
governments can accept collateral damage. Well, the heroes don’t do it for
praises or for ‘ulterior’ motives. They do it because it’s the right thing to
do. And they will do whatever it takes to protect their lives and civil rights.
No needless sacrifices have to be made. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Currently, the Avengers are run by Captain America and
bankrolled by billionaire Tony Stark. Nick Fury operated in a supervisory
capacity, but has gone missing. Obviously, this will be the World Security
Council’s chance to override his authority and have superhumans handed over to
them directly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As for our heroes, where are they?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, Hulk is AWOL, and Thor is in Asgard investigating the
Infinity Stones. But here’s the rest of them:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Iron Man</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reeling from the bittersweet events of Age of Ultron, Tony
Stark feels solely responsible for the destruction of Sokovia. In all honesty,
it wasn’t entirely his fault. It’s Scarlet Witch’s fault. Let’s not forget that
she’s the one who poisoned his mind and assign blame where it’s due. True, he
rectified things and got a kick-ass gift in the process (The Vision). He’ll be
having nightmares about recklessness for quite a while. In his downtime, he’s
been making sick upgrades to all the suits in his keep, including War Machine’s
and Falcon’s. If he’s aware of how Ant-Man got into Falcon’s suit the last
time, not doubt he’s made his armors ‘ant-proof’.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Captain America</i></div>
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Steve Rogers has spent most of his spare time looking for
his long lost buddy, Bucky the Winter Soldier. To this end, he enlisted Sam
‘Falcon’ Wilson. When they found Bucky, he was only recovering from his years
of brainwashing. He’s still more or less a shell of what he used to be. Steve is just happy to have his best friend back and catch up on lost time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Scarlett Witch</i></div>
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Wanda Maximoff has undergone some training under the
tutelage of Captain America and Black Widow. She clearly has a better handle on
her abilities, but there’s a lot she’s yet to learn about them.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">War Machine</i></div>
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James ‘Rhodey’ Rhodes is finally part of a team. Now he’ll
have better stories to tell his comrades than those pedestrian ones about
threatening arms dealers. Also, he’s long overdue for a race against Falcon,
who’s arguably the best flier in the team (even if Rhodey is a decorated USAF
pilot). Admittedly, I’m stumped as to which suit offers more maneuverability,
so it’s down to the pilot. So far, Sam’s better.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Falcon</i></div>
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Sam Wilson is more than happy to spend his retirement
alongside the Sentinel of Liberty (#Cap). Of course the reappearance of Bucky means his closeness with Steve is questionable. But, now that he’s part of a team, the
fight’s never far away. Also, considering the outlandish demands of his new
job, Tony Stark was kind enough to give him a brand new suit with advanced
capabilities and a remote drone code-named ‘Redwing’ to assist him on missions.
His wings are bulletproof now.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ant Man</i></div>
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The last time out, Scott Lang was introduced to Avenger
Falcon, who sent word out to find him and recruit him for the New Avengers. And
he’s sporting a new Ant-Man suit! Being such a fanboy, he was more than willing
to join the elite group. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Winter Soldier</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes former cold war assassin is
just trying to piece his life back together. Good thing he has his best friend
Steve to help him that. But it also means that the umbrella that was HYDRA is
no longer there to protect him from his enemies. Since SHIELD files were leaked
to the public, even the Winter Soldier’s deeds are out in the open, and people
are out for blood. He decides to go on the run. It’s not entirely his fault
though; he was brainwashed the entire time. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black Widow</i></div>
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Natasha Romanoff has been helping Steve train and guide the
new team. Obviously she has a score to settle with the Winter Soldier.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hawkeye</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clint Barton retired to the family life. After Sokovia, he’s
more than happy to never see the battlefield again. But, as they always say,
you can’t keep a good man down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Vision</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ‘android designed by a robot’ is taking time to
understand what human life is all about. Being the custodian of the powerful
Mind Stone is serious business. And he’s taking his responsibilities seriously.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Spider-Man</i></div>
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First hinted about in Ant-Man (reports about a guy in New
York who swings around and walks on walls), teenager Peter Parker is doing
rounds as a rookie crime fighter. Tony Stark takes the young science protégé
under his wing and he’s ready to kick ass.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Black Panther</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The enigmatic leader of Wakanda gets involved in matters for
personal reasons. T’Challa is grieving his recently deceased dad, T’Chaka, and
is hunting for those responsible. At the same time, he has to take over the
mantle of the Black Panther from his father and look out for his country’s
interests. Along the way, he meets Tony Stark, whom he considers a peer in the
science and technology world. At least Tony has someone to talk science to in
the absence of Dr. Bruce Banner.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Allegiances will be questioned, loyalties will shift, individual beliefs will be shaken to the very core. But who is the man holding the strings? I won't be surprised if it's a certain 'Dell Rusk'. </div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-19670468763358802372016-04-29T18:26:00.001+03:002016-04-29T18:26:36.698+03:00Permission To Speak Freely?<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTrD12G76grHqp3S6BGsDzUXWMvbEvDjp8uJ7i_2-4HbD5U3PZOH4AbJiZSxufEmBKn-fM-IEJ48T_7hYfJEjT-WVyeu-HABNEZTMQ7B7ymsFXMjmWlc5JHLzAYNI-35BVNjlNxBKTEbw/s1600/black+reporter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTrD12G76grHqp3S6BGsDzUXWMvbEvDjp8uJ7i_2-4HbD5U3PZOH4AbJiZSxufEmBKn-fM-IEJ48T_7hYfJEjT-WVyeu-HABNEZTMQ7B7ymsFXMjmWlc5JHLzAYNI-35BVNjlNxBKTEbw/s400/black+reporter.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coutesy of pinterest.com</td></tr>
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</o:p></div>
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What is freedom? What good is freedom if it’s not to make
lives better? What good will it do us if we can’t make an impact to those that
look up to the information we are capable of providing? Why should we see injustices and not speak up? Why should we see the tears of the downtrodden and the devastated and the confused and not spread the word? There is an adage that goes like this, "If you have a problem, speak up. The people you intended to tell may not be able to help, but among those who hear you will be people who have been waiting for such an opportunity to help." People may like, hate, criticize, encourage, but they should
not be silenced. </div>
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Freedom of speech is a grand privilege. It is this privilege that allows people to know where
traffic jam is the thickest, so that commuters can know which routes to avoid. It
is this privilege that allows people to be aware of an accident on a highway
and who’s responsible. It is this privilege that lets us know the deplorable
state of our health centres and hospitals. It’s through such people that we are
instantly made aware of injustices that are going on around us. It’s how we
know which restaurant is offering a discount and which fuel stations have the
cheapest fuel. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Freedom of speech, like any other privilege, must not be misused or taken for granted. We live in an era where everyone with a smartphone can be our eyes and ears. There’s a wealth of resources at our disposal to inform more people in a much shorter time. We get to know events in occurrence way before the evening news. Why then must we stay silent?</div>
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Admittedly, there’s going to be problems with everyone
fancying themselves the voice of the people. A lot of truths will get distorted
in the mad scramble for recognition and bloated sense of importance. But there
is a grain of truth in all that noise. There’s a reason for the uprising and
the chants and the demonstrations. There’s a reason for the exposés and the
interviews. There’s a reason for the reports and the analysis. There is a
message, and the message should be more important than the messenger. You know
the saying ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’. We are but conduits, storytellers at
best. We mash, season, bake and grill the facts and present them in a form that’s
palatable and unforgettable. And as the masses wipe the corners of their mouths
after a sumptuous meal of truth, they can belch and tell everyone about it. We
are the voice, and the voice shall not be muffled. It will ring clear off the
walls, streets, mountains and valleys. It will be whispered in the playgrounds
and the halls. It will be shouted from the rooftops and the fields. It is for
all to hear. It is all inclusive. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t
excommunicate. It is for those who can listen and read. It seeks only to impart
knowledge. And hopefully, that knowledge will inspire action of some sort; the
sort that doesn’t endanger needlessly. As the pioneers tell the natives, “We
come in peace,” but without the backstabbing that’s known to follow suit.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is freedom? Freedom is the license to do what one is
supposed to do. Freedom to speak out on matters that cannot be kept silent. For
to deny the existence of a situation is not to erase the reality. Freedom might
be expensive, but it is meant for all. It’s meant to be shared, and it is meant
to be enjoyed responsibly. For if we betray people’s trust, if we misuse the
freedom that we have been given, what then do we have? Freedom of speech is a gift, very much like the air we breathe. And such freedom should not be suffocated.<o:p></o:p></div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-55105794163941878802016-03-23T13:51:00.001+03:002016-03-23T13:51:12.161+03:00Dawn of Justice...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMSAM9hvVsFV4NuvPxhPhApirFAAEIwY3oYDan8u9eQCfm-IVM8WsU-967Gbq_GU4lFYw06NG1jk0T7Xo7iOhfedrKSGdxEXBvjKqsv-2Td787ATidjAtPHXMMaP1lwXX7ZNMG6WusTo/s1600/new-character-banners-superman-vs-batman-645x340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXMSAM9hvVsFV4NuvPxhPhApirFAAEIwY3oYDan8u9eQCfm-IVM8WsU-967Gbq_GU4lFYw06NG1jk0T7Xo7iOhfedrKSGdxEXBvjKqsv-2Td787ATidjAtPHXMMaP1lwXX7ZNMG6WusTo/s400/new-character-banners-superman-vs-batman-645x340.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clash of the Titans?</td></tr>
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<br />
It's almost here! One of the most anticipated movies in history. The showdown of the century. The battle of the braves! It's... Batman vs Superman! Or is it Superman vs Batman (following normal sporting conventions where the home side is mentioned first, this title would be more accurate)? Yes, I'm making the guess that the battle takes place in the ruins of Metropolis, as opposed to Crime Alley in Gotham as in Return of the Dark Knight.<br />
<br />
As usual, this is a post for those people who tend to want to ask questions during an epic movie, preventing their neighbours from following plot points as they unfold. Therefore, you should (get them to) read this, so they'll pay attention.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjggpiAFz4ppqD3426j7lOTDhYzPlZDitw1bCrJkt6Zlbvlwq8gC1W3iycJQF5w8r7h4HBdRZXuy-zqXbzRMGWsUAlei8S-HrlD-d9n526xE3Vjm_jtHXTQLSQYNiI8xZgjCqAuvFw_5I/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-03-21-11h49m49s232.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjggpiAFz4ppqD3426j7lOTDhYzPlZDitw1bCrJkt6Zlbvlwq8gC1W3iycJQF5w8r7h4HBdRZXuy-zqXbzRMGWsUAlei8S-HrlD-d9n526xE3Vjm_jtHXTQLSQYNiI8xZgjCqAuvFw_5I/s400/vlcsnap-2016-03-21-11h49m49s232.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When someone 'respectable' asks you a stupid question...</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbA-WCBsf3LzkNUxFDki5gAg9VfQWpW0V2ig2wEymRNTZYeGB9ING6mQZINVFmOe5g5JbcKlXFRwWJuzlCNCzLgIuSBPho_Utv2CtLzPCo39QUQPRpiJbL2H87p4z0tcB42cbQTLBzcIk/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-03-21-11h50m38s242.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbA-WCBsf3LzkNUxFDki5gAg9VfQWpW0V2ig2wEymRNTZYeGB9ING6mQZINVFmOe5g5JbcKlXFRwWJuzlCNCzLgIuSBPho_Utv2CtLzPCo39QUQPRpiJbL2H87p4z0tcB42cbQTLBzcIk/s400/vlcsnap-2016-03-21-11h50m38s242.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When 'respectable' person gets an answer that highlights his own stupidity.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It's been almost 2 years since the events of 'Man of Steel'. The world's population is divided. Some are galvanized by the thought of having a saviour. Others are afraid of him. What if he decides to take to politics? What if he interferes with government? How does he decide whom to save and whom to abandon? What does he do in his spare time? Can his blood cure cancer? How would they know if they can't even draw blood from him? Who's to stop such a powerful being from doing whatever he wants? There are entire committees and military branches geared towards studying this individual, but so far, their efforts have yielded no ways to keep the Man of Steel in check. The next logical step for them is to meet him directly and talk to him. He has been avoiding the press. He prefers to go about his heroic business as he sees fit. But world leaders are restless. They need to know whose side he's on.<br />
<br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Superman</i></b><br />
He's aware that the world is uncertain of him. And why wouldn't they? They see him as this all-powerful being who can do incredible things. As much as he wants to solve all the worlds problems, he needs to have the people on his side. They need to trust him. That's why he never wears a mask. If the world sees his face, they can probably rest easier. Politics and government are murky waters that he'd rather not trudge in at them moment. He decides to stick to the regular saving lives protocol. Rescues mainly. However, he's still labeled a vigilante. And there's a vigilante that's painting a bad picture for others out there. Since Superman is all about good PR at this moment, dealing with a rogue like Batman is a good step forward. he thinks that terror is the wrong way to go in inspiring public confidence. Someone should step up and give the Batman a piece of their mind. And who better to do it than someone who's invincible, right?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-F_MQH_x0UCG2ZJcjyfCFXqlGbI-c45ewD___pbj3u7RI0WTmYyoafZsbUIGYwRsMpIo9X12OHJt9ppJmyhk4HEj9rkz03wasVjD9ln5SyNsCfJEB4y0lHLSVPUJd16dmZ5BWETN5DU/s1600/vlcsnap-2015-12-03-09h55m44s211.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-F_MQH_x0UCG2ZJcjyfCFXqlGbI-c45ewD___pbj3u7RI0WTmYyoafZsbUIGYwRsMpIo9X12OHJt9ppJmyhk4HEj9rkz03wasVjD9ln5SyNsCfJEB4y0lHLSVPUJd16dmZ5BWETN5DU/s400/vlcsnap-2015-12-03-09h55m44s211.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"If I wanted it, you'd be dead already!" #alphamale</td></tr>
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<br />
<b><i>Batman</i></b><br />
The terror of the Gotham criminal underworld. He's a nightmare for the wrongdoers. He's feared more than he's loved. He doesn't mind it. He was the king of the jungle until an alien showed up, whose might far exceeded his own. Now he has to contemplate, like the authorities, whose side he's on. He doesn't know that the authorities are thinking the same thing about him, and constantly trying to devise the means to keep him in check. However, unlike them, there's no red tape with him. He also has the brilliance and the resources to set in motion his own contingency plans. But, like any good contingency, it starts with research. He (most likely) installs appropriate tracking software in his personal satellites to follow the Man of Steel around and try to figure him out. The first thing he learns is that, Superman neither kills nor maims. That is something he intends to use in his favour. He doesn't like surprises, so he studies his opponent as much as he can. But how can he hope to go toe to toe with the Man of Steel? Batman's world is filling up with powerful beings that cannot be controlled. What is their agenda? What if they intend to destroy his home? How will he be able to stop them?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWN6_I8g78hYCWjhJgpg983EFCtRSrFXgxgDPoUGSwevLDCWz8dq7ZXpMkB65Wwjnc2Y2Y7ohoejoD3RW44CVcxx_e_Wuo-PzAbK3iRZwZF5RlQbVBxyKgOymXN0uy0jTvNiqbXjoCPGY/s1600/1174_514068762096496_6633710066263671060_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWN6_I8g78hYCWjhJgpg983EFCtRSrFXgxgDPoUGSwevLDCWz8dq7ZXpMkB65Wwjnc2Y2Y7ohoejoD3RW44CVcxx_e_Wuo-PzAbK3iRZwZF5RlQbVBxyKgOymXN0uy0jTvNiqbXjoCPGY/s400/1174_514068762096496_6633710066263671060_n.jpg" width="398" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fake it until you make it?</td></tr>
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<b><i><br /></i></b>
<b><i>Wonder Woman</i></b><br />
This powerhouse demigoddess, the patron saint of women emancipation, has to keep the egotistical Batman and the overconfident but naive Superman in check. She represents the best of both. She has the dark, gritty character and the unbelievable strength to make the boys scratch their cleft chins. At least they both notice at once that she's not your average woman. She doesn't mind standing by their side, but she's neither to be belittled nor underestimated. Make no mistake, she can hold her own (I'll personally be disappointed if she whimpers for help). They don't call her the Warrior Princess of Themyscira just to make her happy.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfug1alnzTbfThkP5_vwxw6Cj7Td_ZPBAEFlJH9JTTflYa2Gxxgh9KbYhcl7IHl5-not55MTNxxadIz1Xjr04VtSXZ2nTQCbw4pu3Sc7243WQrYq8rBW8emvw2dPRN8oHu2d7tHL7xgyk/s1600/vlcsnap-2016-03-21-11h52m48s245.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfug1alnzTbfThkP5_vwxw6Cj7Td_ZPBAEFlJH9JTTflYa2Gxxgh9KbYhcl7IHl5-not55MTNxxadIz1Xjr04VtSXZ2nTQCbw4pu3Sc7243WQrYq8rBW8emvw2dPRN8oHu2d7tHL7xgyk/s400/vlcsnap-2016-03-21-11h52m48s245.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fists of justice are unisex.</td></tr>
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<br />
There you have it, folks. Now you can concentrate on events as they unfold without wearing that confused look. Only tap your neighbours if they are excited by the same thing, not to ask them, "How come she punched that guy and he flew thoooooose ends?"Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-65063742935524250432016-03-11T14:33:00.001+03:002016-03-11T14:33:34.017+03:00Of Lady Strange and Irish Coffee...Dear stranger,<br />
<br />
I don't mean to sound strange, but I must compliment you on how delightful you are to look at. The high stool that you're sitting on is doing wonders. Even the semi-bright backdrop of the gardens works in your favour, because you are an exquisite silhouette. You hold your head straight, supported by an elegant slim neck, flowing downwards to the neat arc of your back, rounding off at the seat in your subtle but well shaped derriere. Whoever invented those 'pencil skirts' did us a huge favour. Even while sitting, the skirt terminates right above your knees, caressing that tender flesh like butter on bread. You've rested your heel on the foot-rest of the stool, with the stilletto heel dangling in the air. You rock your foot back and forth, highlighting toned calf muscles. You must be taking good care of yourself, girl. Good for you indeed. You sit there, with your dainty little fingers gently stroking the screen of your phone, prompting a few laughs from you time and again. It's not a boisterous laugh. It's more like a chuckle, with your wonderful white teeth flashing and your mouth just barely open. They must have trained you on how to be polite and carry yourself with class.<br />
<br />
I know we've never met, but you've been alive in my mind for the whole time you've been sipping on your Sprite. I saw the frustration on your face when the waiter initially brought you a Krest. I would have been disappointed too. It's not like you had asked him to bring a 'soda in a green bottle'. But, people make mistakes and you realized that mid-rant. It's one of the things I've liked about you. Your big, kind eyes are not just for occasionally stopping my heart. Your full and vivacious eyelashes are not just to send waves of desire in my direction. I've been enjoying watching how you delicately flick your hair to the side while you prepare to take your numerous selfies. Oh wait, I didn't accidentally appear in the background of one of them, did I?<br />
<br />
It's almost unfair for someone to look as remarkable as you do. But hey, if the Irish coffee has already kicked in, you might be a figment of my imagination. Lo, just as I'm about to pinch myself, you ease off the stool, whisper something to the waiter next to you, and start walking towards me.<br />
<br />
When you spin and walk, it's like time around me has slowed down tremendously. You're surprisingly light on your feet and comfortable in heels. As you sashay towards me, I feel like my heart has stopped and I'm staring at an angel. You cast a glance at me, over your shoulder as you walk by, and I can see the mesmerizing splendour in your eyes.<br />
<br />
You glide past me like the total stranger that I am, but before my shoulders can fall with resignation, the calming scent of jasmine wafting in the slipstream of your path lifts me right up. I almost absentmindedly rise out of my seat to glide along with you. I'm stopped in my tracks by the sudden clatter of crockery as I accidentally bumped the table on my way up. Thankfully, by that time you've disappeared around the corner and I have little embarrassment to concern myself with.<br />
<br />
I come to my senses eventually, and realize that your table is empty. The waiter even took away the Sprite bottle and is now preparing the table for another customer. I cannot afford to have my memory tainted.<br />
<br />
I'm glad to have spent the afternoon basking in your delightful company. Now that my coffee's done, I can leave, hoping to see you again one day. Maybe then I'll actually talk to you instead of playing out scenarios in my mind. If not, at least I'll have this blog post to remember you by.Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-70466886915858238072016-03-07T15:50:00.000+03:002016-03-07T15:50:16.612+03:00Slosh(ed)... <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLP545SslwJv1KP9536iHGuuyQI5qk39WcpZwDzX9qizhPOJxhvsvdhD3_jhVdrrZqGCyUYPs6OQwpbiYk5cVHUDmC8Zjf0bLwjrZmujfFZR6ie6mZLY1SoqWutHcepWBu71vQDjVM1vc/s1600/glass_of_vodka_by_modok-d5eii2f.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLP545SslwJv1KP9536iHGuuyQI5qk39WcpZwDzX9qizhPOJxhvsvdhD3_jhVdrrZqGCyUYPs6OQwpbiYk5cVHUDmC8Zjf0bLwjrZmujfFZR6ie6mZLY1SoqWutHcepWBu71vQDjVM1vc/s400/glass_of_vodka_by_modok-d5eii2f.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
"Where are you now that I need you?"<br />
<br />
He becomes aware of Justin Bieber crooning from the speakers. He mutters under his breath at his disappointment for leaving the laptop on overnight for the umpteenth time. 'It's not as bad as sleeping with earphones on,' he consoles himself. Something about bacteria building up ridiculously fast in your ear the longer you leave earphones on. He fears bacteria.<br />
<br />
He opens his eyes suddenly, but has to close them again as they are bombarded by the sunrise. He shields his eyes and gradually his eyesight clears. Clears to the sight of highway in the distance beginning to fill up with commuters. He catches the gentle touch of the morning breeze and sighs pleasantly. Then the smile turns into a frown upon realizing that the window must have been open all night long. He checks his arms and runs his finger across his face, looking for telltale signs of swelling. There are none. The mosquitoes must be having an off-season. On any other day, they would have punished him for such an error. The recent heatwave has made sleeping under a mosquito net untenable. So it is with much relief that he throws his head back on the pillow.<br />
<br />
He rolls over to the left and spies a glass with a finger of colourless liquid. That explains his black out. His favourite poison, gin and tonic. He reaches over to the glass and takes in a generous whiff of the gin, catching along with it the sweet remnants of an apple-scented shisha stem on the table beside the gin. 'It must have been an eventful night,' he thinks to himself. His mind is still fuzzy and in no mood to put together the pieces.<br />
<br />
He's shaken from his bliss by the harsh summoning of the alarm. 07:00 it reads, playing his favourite ringtone. He set his alarm tone the same as his ringtone because he knows a phone call is hard to ignore, unless you're unconscious for real. There's a certain sense of urgency connected to a ringing phone. The brain knows it, and will always react to it as long as it's capable. Even if the body is not willing. He wonders how exactly he managed to wake up before the alarm, but it doesn't matter. He has only an hour to get to work.<br />
<br />
He jumps out of bed, but cringes and crumples over as a sharp pain races through his calf. He considers sitting down for a moment to gather himself up, but decides against it. "No one ever said they can't get to work because of an aching calf. Haven't a clue why it's hurting anyway," he remarks.<br />
He presses the power button on his laptop and limps to the bathroom as the music fades in the background.<br />
<br />
Several minutes later, he's heading towards the door, looking fresh. But he knows his mind is not up yet. "Why do they call it substance abuse when I'm the one who comes out the worse for it? It should be called human abuse." He stops by the fridge, but is greeted only by a half-empty bottle of tonic and an egg. It's strange that there's only one egg. He ponders the circumstances under which there could only be one egg left, since he tends to prepare them in even numbers. But that's not what's on his mind. He groans at having no water in the fridge, and resolves to boil some when he returns. He remembers something and darts into the bathroom. He glances in the mirror and sees what he's been suspecting all along. A tired face wearing a concerned forehead, a sarcastic eyebrow and a pair of flaming red eyes stare back at him. he considers going to work with sunglasses, but that will only cause people to stare at him the more. The whole 'wearing sunglasses indoors' is for celebs only. Musician celebs. He can't sing to save his life. While he examines each eye he mutters, "Perhaps if I squint, no one will notice."<br />
<br />
The harsh wind from the boda ride to work sets his mind straight. He wonders if people know to be vigilant while they ride these traffic-ignorant steeds. He has a habit of telling the boda what to do, in case he has a slight case of indecision. He likes to be taken at a comfortable speed and not be put in unnecessary risky situations. He almost has his shin grazed by a Harrier. As the boda passes by the car, he casts a dirty glance at the driver. She's a well dressed, middle aged woman, fair as the sunset. She's wearing sunglasses. Not surprisingly, she's talking on the phone. She turns to face him in that fleeting moment. It feels like five minutes as their stares meet. He gives her the best stink eye he can muster. She responds with an incredulous eyebrow. He raises his hand with a 'what gives?' motion. She puts her hands together, bowing her head slightly, with a hint of a sheepish smile. He turns away, while giving her a thumbs up. It's too early in the morning to be giving a hapless commuter the middle finger.<br />
<br />
He gets to work with 15 minutes to spare. There's that Monday morning status meeting that he usually looks forward to. And if last week was anything to go by, he has nothing to worry about this time. The meeting is lengthy, but it finally comes to an end. Which is a good thing because he's beginning to feel dizzy. He almost collapses from his chair during the meeting. He gets a smirk from the boss and a concerned look from his boss' assistant. He's more concerned about the smirk. It means the boss is going to be keeping an eye on him all day long. He needs to freshen up and keep his act clean. A generous drink of water should help with that. His colleagues thought he was still sleepy but he knows he's dehydrated. The truth is stranger than fiction, so he sheepishly agrees to their suppositions. After the meeting, he makes a beeline for the water dispenser. his eyes widen with disbelief as he notices something wrong with the dispenser. he flipped the valve, but nothing's coming out. Then he looks at it closely. It's a lot shorter than he remembers. So there's something missing. It hits him like a lorry a couple of seconds later. There's no water container on top. He claws his throat as dryness and dizziness begin to overwhelm him. His brain feels like there's heavy duty construction going on; thumping and pounding and drilling. The noise is almost unbearable and his body is beginning to shut down. As he staggers away from the water dispenser towards his cubicle, his mind drifts towards the betrayal he has just been dealt early on a Monday morning.<br />
<br />
"Where are you now that I need you?"<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-7080785816589592432016-02-15T16:45:00.001+03:002016-02-15T16:53:17.830+03:00#UGBlogWeek Presents: The Cedric Conundrum (1/7) <i>This week, I (Symon) have invited a guest to collaborate with, so listen. I'll introduce him. He's called Cedric, a guy who, for the most part, fancies himself as an artist and enjoyer of life. He resides in my head, so I have the misfortune of dealing with his chirpiness all the time. There's barely a quiet moment in my life, save for when he has 'something personal' to deal with. Those times are, unfortunately, few and far between. For the next 7 days, he'll be narrating events through his point of view.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Take it away, Cedric!</i><br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
Ah, finally... My chance to stretch my writing muscles. This chance could not have come at a better time. Because I've been dying to tell someone. Symon's friend (I'm yet to meet him) became a baby daddy! It was so cute to see him carry the little guy, eyes glistening with pride and joy. I could barely contain myself. I could have said a lot more to the happy couple, had Symon not been either too tipsy or too exhausted.<br />
<br />
We were at a party earlier and he was drinking that whiskey like he thought it would drown his inner demon. I was familiar with this routine of his, and he had been warned about it a few times before. You see, a party is not so party-ish when you have guys like him who sit quietly in a corner and be on their phone, generally existing while life happens around them. He had been warned that if he kept that up, he'd be invited to less parties. He was ready to resign to this fate but I could not allow that. So, he's since outsourced the party scene interactions to me, and I've been enjoying them immensely. Meeting people is such fun, I don't know why Symon has been avoiding it. I think in the past three weeks, we've met more new people than we did the whole of last year. He grimaces each time he sees me interact freely. I think inwardly he's rather jealous of me. Makes me want to piss him off even more. <br />
Having indulged generously in camaraderie, I excused myself to take a breath of the cool breeze away from the crowd. It was a still night, with moonlight glowing its halo in the revering dark sky. It was a good night for a walk and some life changing event. I thought of that as I returned to continue from whence I'd left off. On the way, I received a message that my friend's wife was in labour.<br />
<br />
Now, Symon tends to avoid getting overly involved in people's lives. For some reason, he thinks people are better off without him hanging around. But, I managed to talk him into getting invested in his friend's impending fatherhood. I made him promise to be there when his baby was being born. It seems he thought I had forgotten about that promise as I found him refilling his whiskey glass. I had to remind him that we had a life-altering moment to attend later. He shrugged, checked his phone, and reluctantly threw down the 12-year old whiskey. I could see the disgust on his face for making him do that. Apparently, whiskey must be respected. How I wish he gave as much respect to the people in his life that deserve it. Anyway, I shall teach him. I shall teach him how to feel things again.<br />
<br />
I had digressed. So, we were at the hospital waiting in the corridors as we heard the blood-curdling screams associated with childbirth. Naturally, Symon tried his best to distract his friend with off-handed remarks about the straightforwardness of the whole affair, as he understood it. It wasn't helping. His friend remained nervous. While I was biting my fingers anxiously, gu Symon remained stoic. Like seriously, how can someone hear those screams and remain unbothered? Maybe he's seen some traumatic stuff and this didn't even compare. I don't know. He doesn't talk about such things. I was relieved to hear the screams of a woman replaced by the wails of a newborn. I was ecstatic! I ran about the hallway, dragging his friend along with me for a giddy prance. His friend couldn't wipe his astonished expression off his face. Sure, he was happy, but maybe jumping about wasn't what he had in mind. Soon, the wife and baby were wheeled out of the labour ward. I screamed a spirited 'congratulations' to the new parents. They stared at me with incredulity. Of course they did. They didn't recognize me. I whispered to Symon to introduce me and he muttered, "Not now." Heh, guess I'll have to wait another day. I did manage to get him to tell his friend that he had just received the best Valentine's gift ever! The baby was looking so cute, and his wife was radiant. She looked like she'd just eased the baby out. She was all smiles and hi-fiving whoever came to congratulate her. His friend then turned his attentions to Symon, asking why he was still single and childless. He encouraged him to catch up and not miss out on such joys. I told Symon the same. He's letting the good stuff pass him by and he doesn't seem to care even one bit. You should see the way he looks at beautiful women. Oba to him, they appear like bowls of matooke? I'm not sure.<br />
<br />
(Symon doesn't like matooke. He never even glances twice at it in a buffet line-up.)<br />
<br />
So, his friend asked him when he plans to settle down, he callously responds, "It will happen when it happens." I guess his friends are used to it by now. But it's a problem for us, because me I like girls. I think they make for interesting experiences, even if they bring drama. Oh yes, Symon doesn't like the drama that girls bring in life. He has mentioned that a few times. I tell him that's just cowardice. He should embrace it. If it happens, we can always deal with it. Believe it or not, a close friend of his actually recommended that he gets some drama into his life, for the sake of entertainment, because his life is so mundane! It suffocates me. I like a romantic walk under the stars every once in a while. I would like to hand her flowers and recite poetry to her. I'd like to feed her chocolate and massage her feet after a long day. I'd like to go on a boat cruise with her and tell that joke about love and the lake. But no... I can't do that while the tyrant retains the throne. He claims that I've contributed little to the peace we're now enjoying. Mbu where do I get the nerve? Mbu do I know what he went through to get the peaceful existence that we now 'share'? He fought for his peace and he intends to keep it, even if he has to fight again to retain it. When will he realize that we both want the same thing?<br />
<br />
<br />Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-38796209338738964242016-02-02T15:48:00.000+03:002016-02-02T15:48:50.745+03:00Cedric Takes A Hostage...<div class="MsoNormal">
So, yesterday Cedric and I found ourselves in quite a
pickle. You see, when I returned home, there was no electricity. The house was
dark as a haunted manor. Sensing the mood, Cedric suggested we don’t waste the
moment, and instead should make the most of it. He suggested we play out a
hostage negotiation. I hate being the victim of stories, but alas, the straws
were drawn and I chose the short one. I think the game was rigged, but who’s to
know for sure? Anyway, there was two of us and we needed one more role; that of
the hostage negotiator. Why? I was the hostage and Cedric fancied himself a
capable villain. So, we needed someone to rescue me from his evil clutches. Naturally,
it was my duty to cry out for help. I yelled as loud as I could and you’ll
never guess who turned up! It was none other than the Spectacular Spider-Man
himself! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzWh7T7PvhADoPVtCIrABwA0DXBzNiwxFDH1mbzpZ8kaNmPB-kIIyZN1Lge3hEPkly0pKYdzMLZcJpEv6I8DFVS8qhDXvZ9b756jFZ-zO7LB6UyjHXlcGfbxaIIxb11GRHQ4_oKtxjghM/s1600/ssm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzWh7T7PvhADoPVtCIrABwA0DXBzNiwxFDH1mbzpZ8kaNmPB-kIIyZN1Lge3hEPkly0pKYdzMLZcJpEv6I8DFVS8qhDXvZ9b756jFZ-zO7LB6UyjHXlcGfbxaIIxb11GRHQ4_oKtxjghM/s320/ssm.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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The following takes place between 11pm and 12am:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cedric stands across the room from me, gun trained on me. I
dare not make any sudden movements that will startle or annoy him. He’s quite
the sharpshooter. Naturally, I’m concerned about why he’s holding me hostage,
and we have a third party to explain things to. Let’s call him SSM.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM: Put the gun down, vile villain. Or else I’ll take you
down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cedric: Hey ‘Spider-Man’! No need for violence. I’m a peacef…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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SSM: You’re holding an innocent man hostage!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric (chuckles sarcastically): This guy? Oh, he’s far from
innocent. The things he’s done! If I told you, you’d blush with embarrassment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Me: Hey, turn it down a notch. You know we’re playing right?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: Shush! Stay in character.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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SSM: Look, I’m not sure of what’s going on here, but the guy
with the gun is clearly not the victim. Why don’t you tell me what’s up so we
can work something out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: All I want is for him to hand me the Chalice of Zerunath.</div>
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<br /></div>
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SMM: What's that?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: It's an artifact that amplifies the user's latent abilities to exponential levels. It has the power to effect real change, and yet all this buffoon does with it is keep it in his study. I'm telling you, such power doesn't belong to people who can't wield it.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Me: That kind of power is dangerous for anyone to wield. You know about dangerous power, don't you, Spider-Man?</div>
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<br /></div>
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SSM: I know a thing or two. But you know, with great power comes...</div>
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<br /></div>
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Me: Ah, cummon Spider-Man! Get out of my face with such nonsense. Do you not know that power corrupts? How about the mere thought of it? Look at Cedric. He's obsessed with it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: Yeah, because it hurts to see you just hold on to something even you are afraid to use. Tell me, what terrifies you about it?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Me: Nothing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: Really? Then why don't you use it?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Me: I don't want to hurt anyone in the process.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: Oh please! Pain is inevitable. It's like trying to stop the flow of time. It is going to happen whether you contribute or not. </div>
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<br /></div>
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SSM: Cedric does have a point, you know.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: You're taking HIS side now? </div>
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<br /></div>
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SMM: How about you hand me that chal...</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric and I (in unison): NO!</div>
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<br /></div>
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SMM: Sheesh! I'm just trying to help here.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: Give me the Chalice. You're not using it. What good is it just sitting there?</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me (contemplating): What if I prove you wrong and use it?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: No matter how you use it, you can never wield its power like I can. You know why? Because I'm better than you.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM makes himself comfortable on the wall adjacent to us. It’s
disturbing to talk to a guy sitting on a wall. Then again, they do call him ‘spectacular’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM: Interesting!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cedric: I’m just tired of being treated like a second-class
citizen. We both know I’M the brains of this operation.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Brains? More like brawn. You barely ever think. All you
are capable of is ‘doing’.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cedric: Just because I think faster than you can comprehend
doesn’t mean I don’t think at all.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM (midway through munching crisps): Oh snap!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cedric and I (in unison): Where the heck did you get crisps
from?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM: That’s irrelevant at the moment. As you recall, I’m
here to save a victim. But it’s becoming confusing to understand which one of
you it is.So, get on with clearing the air. I have a train to catch.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: The Midnight Express?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cedric groans and rolls his eyes. In that moment, I see the emptiness that's within him. It's pretty sad. I almost feel sorry for him. But he does have me at gunpoint still. I have to resolve this quickly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM: Okay. Each of you is going to tell me what you want with the chalice. Then I'll decide who's the real bad guy. You know, because it's an instinct only heroes have.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: Heh... I seem to recall that most of your troubles are brought about by your own flawed point of view, Spider-Man. You're no saint. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: Strange. I agree.</div>
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<br /></div>
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SSM: Can we please get back to the point?</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: Well, I already told you what I want to do with it.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Me: You want it?! Fine. You have it. Let's see what you can do with it. </div>
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Cedric: I thought you'd never ask.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We head to the study where the Chalice is kept. Cedric walks toward it, eyes mesmerized by his delusions of grandeur as he reaches for it. But before he can touch it, a glass cage drops from above, encasing him. He angrily beats the glass but it doesn't budge. He empties his clip at it but it's all vanity. He collapses to his knees in exasperation as he realizes the gravity of his situation. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Me: I told you. Your obsession with power will be the end of you.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Cedric: This isn't over. Not by a long shot.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No, it's not. But you must never forget why I'm the Alpha of this operation.</div>
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<br /></div>
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SSM picks his jaw up from the floor.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM: You're the villain?!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Me: No. I'm the guardian. This Cedric fellow is a nut case and needs to be closely monitored. I don't even know where he got the gun. Who knows what he'll do if I let him have the run of things? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SSM was kind enough to vacate the premises without further incident. It's a good thing he showed up and bought me time or else Cedric would surely have overrun me. (*shivers at the thought of it.)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-85942680561713675132016-02-01T16:28:00.000+03:002016-02-01T16:28:07.783+03:00The Versatile Blogger Award<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZ0J7aQL26fzDffGFCXFKrx09seq1cJIoMx2rnOfApf-b7cPbuEZG12ELdwv5Ki3gCWFyTGoejnTjsaWOpv6bhhe-9vnw6MzgRygXVtgpu8wIUa9vjkhOgm-PIVG-TpUFvY9zOPmHbEg/s1600/the-versatile-blogger-award-lainey-loves-life.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHZ0J7aQL26fzDffGFCXFKrx09seq1cJIoMx2rnOfApf-b7cPbuEZG12ELdwv5Ki3gCWFyTGoejnTjsaWOpv6bhhe-9vnw6MzgRygXVtgpu8wIUa9vjkhOgm-PIVG-TpUFvY9zOPmHbEg/s400/the-versatile-blogger-award-lainey-loves-life.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #404040; font-family: 'Playfair Display', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There I was, on a lazy Sunday afternoon enjoying my weekly
serving of comics. Upon a sudden, my phone buzzed with distracting urgency. I
checked and saw that it was a Twitter notification. I tossed the phone aside
and continued reading. I do not pay attention to Facebook and Twitter much
during the weekend. They have a nasty way of inducing unwarranted FOMO. What
with all the situation pics and trendy hashtags (is that what they call
trending topics?). Anyway, I saw the message today morning and... Here we are! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you <a href="http://nevender.com/">Nev</a> and <a href="https://theworldsfeels.wordpress.com/">Denise</a> for nominating me
for the suspicious (Cedric: Ahem, it's 'auspicious'.), sorry... auspicious
award. I didn't even know I was noteworthy until well-respected readers of my
blog brought it to my attention. Babawe kyemunywa.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Rules (I'd like to think of them as more like...
guidelines.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1. Thank the person that nominated you and include a link to
their blog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2. Nominate at least 15 bloggers of your choice. When
considering a fellow blogger for the Versatile Blogger Award, keep in mind the
quality of their writing, the uniqueness of their subject matter and the level
of love displayed on the virtual page.<br />
3. Link your nominees and let them know about their nomination.<br />
4. Share seven facts about yourself<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The following people have amused, inspired, excited,
frustrated, informed and enlightened me through their writings. As such, they
deserve to be nominated (I'm not heavy on praises, except when I'm MC'ing. Then
I'm brazenly extravagant with the niceties).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://skaheru.com/">Simon</a> - You could
think his life is entirely comedic. Good thing he blogs regularly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://balamaga.wordpress.com/">Rogers</a> -
No one narrates escapades like this lawyer/cook.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://yawehrobin.blogspot.ug/">Robyn</a> -
When you read his stuff, you feel like you're sailing on the Mississippi (or a
similar river not known for rapids).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://edmokmg.wordpress.com/">Edmund</a> -
Back in the day, he used to be a big deal. He kinda faded from the limelight.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://beingedna.wordpress.com/">Edna</a> -
She has a certain quiet appeal about her that lingers long after the tab has
been closed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://beewol.com/">Beewol</a> - Crazy, both
in thought and in deed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://bazanye.com/">Bazanye</a> - Wizened
sage of the writing arts, and wannabe comedian. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://kirabobyabashaija.wordpress.com/">Lynn</a> -
My mortal enemy. But she deserves a mention, for all the trouble she's caused
me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://rhinorck.wordpress.com/">Rhyno</a> -
Mostly philosophical. Some of his posts have been known to induce violent
headaches (sometimes resulting from furious fits of laughter).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://spartakuss.ug/">Colin</a> - His
insights are, well... Insightful. This one doesn't know the meaning of 'going
easy'.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://qataharray.wordpress.com/">Qatahar</a> -
Thanks to him, information is not boring to read, at all. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://pearlhmmph.com/">Pearl</a> - She wears
her heart on her sleeves, as it were. Look, they have frills! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://oleebranch.com/">Olee Branch</a> (Yeah,
one of those with whom you have to use both names. Singularly, they don't have
gravitas) Beautiful in word as she is in being.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://urbanlegendkampala.com/">Those guys of Urban
Legend</a> - They are legion-dary! (Cedric is groaning, but he'll be
fine.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://kakoma.ug/">Peter</a> - how I wish he
were a playwright instead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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These are either little known or very known facts:<o:p></o:p></div>
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#1 - I don't like animals. I tolerate them. I'm not cruel to them. I just find a way to coexist peacefully with them. Although there was this one cat...<o:p></o:p></div>
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#2 - I'm the guy that will sit quietly at a bar and watch
life happen around him, feeling no need to partake. I'm happy being left alone
to my thoughts. However, it has recently come to my attention that if I
continue behaving like that, I won't be invited to many parties. They have
forced my hand, so for the most part, I'll behave like I'm really interested in
socializing.<o:p></o:p></div>
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#3 - I love liver! Sadly, there's not many people/places
that prepare liver the way I like it, so I barely indulge. <o:p></o:p></div>
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#4 - I barely go on coffee dates for the coffee. Depending on the time and level of hunger, it can be anything from ice cream to a burger with fries. So, when someone says, "Let's meet for coffee," I tend to get confused. <o:p></o:p></div>
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#5 - I've never gone on a blind date. Probably never will.
One of the few things that I dread.<o:p></o:p></div>
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#6 - I don't know why people mistake me for an IT guy. I'm
not. Not even close.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
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#7 - I'm a man of few words, but plenty of imagination. And it's not odd to catch me talking to myself. Okay, maybe it is but I no longer care.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now, if you'd be so kind as to pass this along (and do the same, of course), the world will be a better place. If butterflies could clap, you'd be dancing by now. But wait... (listens ko) you may dance now.</div>
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Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-59144973223608100612016-01-27T15:10:00.004+03:002016-01-27T15:10:49.939+03:00The Little Known Life Of A Newborn...Sleep is peace. Sleep is calm. Sleep is serenity. And you can imagine with what rage I reacted when I was abruptly woken up from my slumber.<br />
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Now, I'd spent all my life encapsulated in a viscous medium. I didn't need anything. Life was simple and straightforward. Before I knew it, I felt appendages prodding and pulling at my head, followed by muffled sounds of what seemed like concern. I shook about vigorously to fend them off, but they remain unrelenting in their quest to disturb my peace. At that point, I just relaxed and let them be. It took them a while, but they eventually found the means to 'liberate' me from my peaceful confinement.<br />
<br />
My arrival was greeted by cheers of excitement and sighs of relief. Apparently, my mother was concerned about my tardiness. I had announced my imminent arrival several hours in advance, but I was taking my time to actually vacate the premises. There was a problem and I had to be evacuated via less-than-ideal means. Anyway, here we were. I found myself crying as my lungs filled with air for the first time. but these adults, instead of noticing my pain, they just clapped and hi-fived themselves like I had just recited an amazing poem or won a bet. I was whisked away to another quieter room and immersed in a warm liquid. It felt oddly comforting and I almost fell asleep if it wasn't for the roughness with which I was being handled. Anyway, several minutes later I'm placed in what felt like a warm dry box and I just drifted off into sleep.<br />
<br />
I woke up a while later, to a warm sensation on my... Wait. I know what you're thinking. Everything is warm, warm, warm. I don't know why yet. Must be the norm in these parts. I've only felt little pangs of something other than warm. Only for split seconds at best. I guess I'll learn the reason why sometime later. As I was saying, I woke up to a warm sensation on my face. I tried to look up, but I could barely make out the images I'm seeing. I wonder what I was expecting, having just opened them for the first time. I'll save that for later. I needed to do a check on what senses were working before I descend into a state of total panic.<br />
<br />
I heard the sound of a familiar heartbeat though. It was a little weak, but I'd know that heartbeat anywhere. I tried to move my limbs, but all they did was twitch about spasmodically. I couldn't even scratch the itch on my face. My hands seemed to be covered in some layer of cloth. I'm aware of the individual appendages at the end of my arms, but they didn't move as well and I'd have wanted them to. It's the same story about my legs. I kept hearing people drawing close and saying, "Aww... She looks just like her mother," and, "She has her father's ears!" I wouldn't know. Haven't had the chance to form my own opinion of their opinions. I tried to ask them why they thought so, but someone shoved a soft conical object into my mouth. My attempt to spit it out inadvertently led to biting into it, which caused a flood of liquid to fill my mouth. Come to think of it, I was indeed feeling queer, and this amazing liquid seemed to be doing the trick in making me feel better.<br />
<br />
After being 'around' for a while, I'm starting to think I'm speaking to idiots. They never quite seem to understand a word of what I'm saying, yet I can understand them. They seem to fumble about with different remedies to my summons until they stumble upon what I wanted them to know. It's so tiresome that I fall asleep soon after my need has been met. On the other hand, it's a rather peaceful life so I can't complain that much.<br />
<br />
As it appears, I'll be spending most of my days in this semi-sentient state until my motor and linguistic abilities develop some more. In the meantime, they'll keep treating me like and calling me a baby. I don't know why, but being a baby is far from adorable from my point of view. Amidst being randomly poked, tickled, smiled at and called names, I have to at least keep my eyes open to show some semblance of life and interest in what they are doing. They have a tendency to get worried by my inactivity. And yet, the only way I can get away from all this nonsense is by falling asleep.<br />
<br />
Sleep is peace. Sleep is calm. Sleep is serenity.Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-81589175131577943862016-01-12T08:43:00.000+03:002016-01-12T08:43:33.079+03:00Creed vs Southpaw<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisFENrJy-0NurjwPcBt9bw7SoxSrEiL81UmzJtk5Gq-APWxq3agbFGrGfoQbmHaj1_v8YDhQrVOWiKwxaaoQPtmUrqVOsrOJzFgEAKjruvotWMI7XgRB4ZGWqgSBXx6B309jqYS_KLl-M/s1600/creed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisFENrJy-0NurjwPcBt9bw7SoxSrEiL81UmzJtk5Gq-APWxq3agbFGrGfoQbmHaj1_v8YDhQrVOWiKwxaaoQPtmUrqVOsrOJzFgEAKjruvotWMI7XgRB4ZGWqgSBXx6B309jqYS_KLl-M/s320/creed.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgvrZN-9ojBYNtid1FyIEHbah5nBj9situRBtMpZB3B-jMwInqcCg-NyNxWXgkwVvO6DaZbSCEoQcVZH1coBZOquEBcka7a7-mvsvowkZhuTwzzpkP4lp-FcPW0w0rOhllpOj_adVibM/s1600/southpaw.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQgvrZN-9ojBYNtid1FyIEHbah5nBj9situRBtMpZB3B-jMwInqcCg-NyNxWXgkwVvO6DaZbSCEoQcVZH1coBZOquEBcka7a7-mvsvowkZhuTwzzpkP4lp-FcPW0w0rOhllpOj_adVibM/s320/southpaw.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">VS</span></b></div>
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Last weekend, I found myself presented with a double-header
of boxing movies. Now, I have a mild interest in boxing, but I still like the
entertainment a boxing movie brings. Sadly, there are very few boxing matches
in real life that are as intriguing as the Hollywood versions. Anyway, I took
it upon myself to be entertained by ‘gladiators’ for whom the script of the
fight is already written. That’s fine. But it’s the execution of each that
created the vast gap that is between these two movies. Let me explain:<o:p></o:p></div>
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#1 – Southpaw<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGl7-72j2Dj-w5mA6Ft-pqY6lYvzIHE7wA8uMeR6bSTztTV71gqeHtsIk34XFOSouT6LPjGMo_f-J8gz3yd2lwiOPb2MeIKhPFfdN5Qd5A2Oih1Tlq-1eNLD2bxMPfbUgMrQZG2dsmN4/s1600/Southpaw-2015-HDRip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrGl7-72j2Dj-w5mA6Ft-pqY6lYvzIHE7wA8uMeR6bSTztTV71gqeHtsIk34XFOSouT6LPjGMo_f-J8gz3yd2lwiOPb2MeIKhPFfdN5Qd5A2Oih1Tlq-1eNLD2bxMPfbUgMrQZG2dsmN4/s320/Southpaw-2015-HDRip.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This one, starring Jake Gyllenhaal (Prince of Persia,
Nightcrawler), is about a current Light Heavyweight
Champion who loses everything and spends about 2/3 of the movie seeking
redemption. I shall not fault the acting in this movie. It has credible
actors/actresses (with the exception of Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson, whose acting
ain’t worth a dime). Maybe it was the flow of the story. I failed to get
invested in the life and struggles of Billy Hope, the disgraced champion. First of all, it was his own stupidity that cost him everything. So, we're suddenly supposed to believe that in a few weeks, he's on the path of redemption. And the only way to do that is to fight 'one more time'? It also went to show (or appeared to show) how flimsy riches can be. You go from wealthy to scraping by in just a few weeks, despite having the 'best manager in the business'? I'll let that one slide. But even
at the end, while there was a moral exposition, I was barely moved. I was like,
“Yeah, typical Hollywood half-assed attempt to make a credible story.” In fact,
I spent most of the time WhatsApping and Instagramming and Facebooking. Yeah,
it was neither engaging nor riveting, and I found no need to even root for the
main character, or care about his story arc. Again, this had little to do with
Jake’s acting abilities. Perhaps the movie was better suited as a biography. As for the boxing itself, I'd rather watch Fight Club or Banshee if I want bloody, semi-skilled brutal brawling. And even saying 'semi-skilled' is an insult to my preferences.<o:p></o:p></div>
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#2 – Creed<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHeppbEMYoPBulgqT2pmp90ae4y_Yv2NNBCxucj_zRFLxsarZ2LKB01erJGZRPovVOUFdyt8HK-2CeEkjwvqKzL9uV9wALT85ZhdTpLX90ebd06WXi4aoUXqacbgTCoVr5sCAkixBSy9w/s1600/creedposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="127" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHeppbEMYoPBulgqT2pmp90ae4y_Yv2NNBCxucj_zRFLxsarZ2LKB01erJGZRPovVOUFdyt8HK-2CeEkjwvqKzL9uV9wALT85ZhdTpLX90ebd06WXi4aoUXqacbgTCoVr5sCAkixBSy9w/s320/creedposter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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This one stars Michael B. Jordan (Chronicle, Fantastic Four) as Adonis Johnson Creed,
the son of Apollo Creed (from the Rocky movies) and light heavyweight boxing prodigy. He’s a natural talent but at
the start of the movie, he has been self-trained and has no professional
experience. He’s not had a father figure in life but he’s a pretty sensible
guy. He’s rather relatable and even likeable. He refuses to be associated with
his father’s boxing legacy, instead preferring to forge his own. But in the
end, he comes to terms with being his father’s son, and the pedigree that comes
with it. So immense is his fighting prowess that the champion actually calls
him out for a fight! It’s a struggle that’s common with children whose parents’
achievements put pressure on them. But this guy manages to shoulder the burden
with his head held high. There was not a dull moment and I thoroughly enjoyed
watching this movie. And the requisite final fight? Ah, it was splendid. It wasn't just the fight, but the atmosphere of it. The commentators were hilarious. Plus, who doesn't like a capable underdog? It's not even one of those movies where they appear to cheat for the underdog. Nope. This one brought the goods. Left the opponent relying only on his vast experience and even that was barely enough to keep him on his feet. All round, it was an amazing movie.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In summary, I think Creed was the better boxing movie. And it's not even by a TKO. It properly floored Southpaw and even did a victory dance. It wasn't pulling any punches. Okay, enough of the boxing puns. I
know some will disagree. If you do, please state your reasons. I’m a reasonable
gentleman. No need for frothing and name calling, yo!<o:p></o:p></div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-4675812693177359242016-01-05T17:57:00.000+03:002016-01-05T17:57:40.199+03:00How To Party Like A Rich Gang Fella...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-oRHI_AOH5ZynkvWQlDoNMyE4uk4sYVs6OqLhyphenhyphennH4mRH-UC48E2k2M-Su6x-3fFhsrvXhb9frZcsLsUNYi13kB4rm0j4Teod0kXoJ8U0DJ8jv3ZZHxqccuKsA16F7A1Mi6AVJBcg8p8/s1600/2014+Feature+Images_house-party-alt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY-oRHI_AOH5ZynkvWQlDoNMyE4uk4sYVs6OqLhyphenhyphennH4mRH-UC48E2k2M-Su6x-3fFhsrvXhb9frZcsLsUNYi13kB4rm0j4Teod0kXoJ8U0DJ8jv3ZZHxqccuKsA16F7A1Mi6AVJBcg8p8/s400/2014+Feature+Images_house-party-alt.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Who rocks the party that rocks the party?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Since <a href="http://beewol.com/open-letter-to-the-rich-gang/">Beewol </a>brought this matter to my attention, I've been thinking. Who are these Rich Gang fellas? Are they pretenders or true ballers? Throwing an exclusive themed party at a nightclub shows you got dime, but it doesn't show that you're a baller. and the impression they give when they take selfies lying in bed with stacks of currency seems to imply that they imagine themselves ballers. As if the black SUVs with heavily tinted windows and personalized
plates are supposed to bolster that statement. Why must all of them
have fur coats? Has so much air conditioning frozen their minds?
It’s hot in Uganda! Why the heck would you even need a fur coat? It’s very
impractical. Anyway, I digress. Now, if you're a baller, you don't ask 'Where the party at?" You are the party! If you want to party with true baller
status, here’s what you should do:</div>
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#1 - Throw the party at a mansion, preferably with a pool.
Throwing a massive party is something the affluent do. It's the ultimate self-glorification in most places, if the local council won't let you erect a marble statue in your honor. Remember The Count of Monte Cristo? Yeah, pick a leaf from that guy. These things of throwing theme parties at clubs do not filter attendants as
well as a ‘private’ house party does. Besides, you can always hire a premium DJ.
At a house/mansion, anything can happen, and people won’t have to worry about
the bouncers who live to protect the reputation of the establishment. By having
the party at your own private premises, you can be in control of a lot of
things. Oh, it doesn’t have to be your own domicile. You could rent a furnished
mansion for a weekend. After all, you’re a baller. It shouldn’t be difficult.</div>
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#2 - Hire military personnel as bouncers. Yes, they are used
to following rules and have a great sense of self control even under stressful
conditions. You, the baller, also get to order soldiers around. Not many people
can do that, in case you hadn’t noticed. By having military bouncers, safety is
assured. And they won’t get involved in situations unless there’s real danger.
Plus, they’ll only be in the parking lot for observation purposes. They’ll not
interfere. However, you must resist the urge to get them to bring you a drink.
I assure you, they will not do that.</div>
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#3 - Get a world-class mixologist/bartender. Okay, as a baller, you’ll
ensure that there’s plenty of drinks for everybody available, but you need that
extra touch that sets your party apart. Even relatively well-to-do people can
throw a party with free drinks. You’re a baller. You need a mixologist, likely
one who can juggle stuff. It adds class to your shindig, and even makes for interesting bar time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">You hire that guy, and he'll give you a list of what he needs to make things happen. And if you sort him out, he'll make things happen. Plus, there's no demerit to having the mixologist in your favour. None.</span></div>
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#4 - Send invites through a guy that knows whom to invite.
The success of a party largely depends on the type of people attending it.
There’s this kind of person that doesn’t know what to do at a party. They go
but refuse to socialize at any level, making it difficult for the people they
came with to enjoy the party because they are overly concerned by their comrade’s
lack of involvement in the revelries. We do not need such negativity at a baller’s party. It’s only for those that want to party. And they must be loud.
No one must have a reason to utter the words ‘I am bored’ at your party. Any
reference to boredom at a baller’s party shall be swiftly met with a removal of
the offender from the premises, with or without their friends. </div>
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#5 - Make sure you're the biggest dog in the yard. You don't want a situation where you're rubbing shoulders with your peers. Those ones are not so easily impressed. You want to be worshipped so make sure those that are invited are inferior. Besides, that renders any piss contest among themselves moot. You've seen people puff up their chests while introducing themselves, feeling like the world owes them. That won't be happening at a baller's party. As a baller, you need people who will easily be pleased, and will adore you for days! You must be the centre of attention, and people should mostly be talking about you and what an awesome party you're throwing. If you want to hang out with peers, there's exclusive clubs for that sort of thing.</div>
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#6 - Be ready to banish anyone who shows up with the following to your party; selfie sticks, dogs, spouses, relatives, negative attitudes. Seriously, why are you bringing your spouse? So you can trick unsuspecting revellers to occupy her while you go stare at lithe bodies in the pool? Maybe some people have never had the (dis)pleasure of spending the better part of a party talking to a married person. Of all the singles available in the area, why would you want to engage in revelry with a married person? If you're saying that you'd rather not fully engage in activities, refer to #4. You deserve to be kicked out, (with someone's spouse) and go have your 'fun' some place else. That should make for an interesting story. We don't want ungrateful people at a baller's party, do we?</div>
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Now, go ahead and show these pretenders how a true baller does it.You can be sure songs will be sung and tales will be told about the Rich Gang of Kampala City.</div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-73526760127053832522015-12-04T12:40:00.001+03:002015-12-04T12:40:27.211+03:00How To Make A Local Hit Song...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVwBncpjnAu-oCh29FqqwbFMQ1wT6WL7Q8bP-2R_S1GbdcBrlLAz9nerqfLxgWVN197c88ABHGXr6s9gNQlmq1AGsA-MVNEN9fDow8XMorJzHcYJQHLzj-IYg_qFeN5OC3dLNGMGgX9M/s1600/Eddy-Kenzo-2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKVwBncpjnAu-oCh29FqqwbFMQ1wT6WL7Q8bP-2R_S1GbdcBrlLAz9nerqfLxgWVN197c88ABHGXr6s9gNQlmq1AGsA-MVNEN9fDow8XMorJzHcYJQHLzj-IYg_qFeN5OC3dLNGMGgX9M/s400/Eddy-Kenzo-2014.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The Kampala nightlife and radio waves are ruled by the country's most club-banging songs. The kinds of songs you'll hear your 7-year old neighbour singing word for word with incredible precision. If he's in the mood, he'll even burst out the appropriate dance moves. But, when you take a moment and focus on these songs, you'll find an undeniable similarity with most of them. Now, for those that are looking for the secret sauce that will make your track delectable, here's the recipe.<br />
<br />
#1 Introduce everyone involved in making the track. This is a must, and if done properly, will have people jumping to their feet even before the real song begins. Most people start by mentioning the producer. If the producer has a good reputation, half your work is already done. If you don't do it, you are doomed to fail. You can also add, "It's another one..." even if it's your first. After all, at this point you don't have many fans, and most listeners don't know better. But they will keep their ears to the ground waiting for 'another one'. For me, whenever I hear 'Diki Music' I just begin bobbing my head.<br />
<br />
#2 Introduce a new slang/phrase. Come up with a new word or phrase, use it repeatedly in the song, and soon everyone will be using it. It must be vernacular. We are not here to teach people English. Support the local language. Think about it. Do you know what 'dorobucci' means? Now you get the gist of it. Teach Africa something new. Totya lossi.<br />
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#3 Feature someone prominent. There's plenty to be gained by doing a collabo, especially if you're new to the music game. But even experienced musicians know it's good for the fans to do a collabo. My personal choice would be Irene Ntale. She seems to just elevate any song she features in. Just make sure the collabo is not a competition of vocal prowess. You want harmony. Like Radio and Weasel, who are on full-time collabo mode. If you are fortunate enough to get an international artist to collabo with, do not waste the opportunity. It's your chance to create something epic. Don't hurriedly whip up a song in 4 hours and call it a hit. We will notice how bad it is instantly. And randomly throwing in "Badman Rasta featuring Mavado" won't automatically make us like the song. Put in the effort.<br />
<br />
#4 Make sure the lyrics have double meanings. Listeners love musical riddles. On top of being catchy, you'll have the entire city talking about your song, trying to decipher its true meaning. They'll be like, "Is he talking about black tea, or some kind of person? What does this 'chai mukalu' song really mean?" Yes, that's what you want as a musician. People listening and talking about your song. Up to now, people honestly believe Sheebah really loves ice cream.<br />
<br />
#5 Shoot a video. Now, there are three essentials of any good local music video. Fruits, background people, and at least one smiling girl. Makes it believable. You don't want to be seen as distant. You want people to see you as someone they can relate to. Leave the expensive cars and numerous girls to the rappers. Unless your song is about such things, then it's appropriate. But if you're singing about how humble and down to earth you are when you're clad in more gold chains than an Egyptian pharaoh, you are truly lost.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwV7kQCSIHnaRrDmpvAt8ogQ2NwPX6tJQvezekLJyL6AyJ4b5hY1rkvUzW93ryp4p2B316VtPd38KaEKVBR3bxU-I0b3Z4i0ipwGoPpHdy2KiDWcTogeja-rjR6HFbwabJQoKopa9dqMk/s1600/gold.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwV7kQCSIHnaRrDmpvAt8ogQ2NwPX6tJQvezekLJyL6AyJ4b5hY1rkvUzW93ryp4p2B316VtPd38KaEKVBR3bxU-I0b3Z4i0ipwGoPpHdy2KiDWcTogeja-rjR6HFbwabJQoKopa9dqMk/s400/gold.jpg" width="307" /></a></div>
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#6 Sing things we can hear and understand. These things of rattling and bubbling unintelligible nonsense should no longer be allowed. Either you're a moron or you have the lousiest songwriter in the business. Or both. We want music, not a silly excuse to spend 3 minutes. Besides, if you can't sing, what are you doing in the studio? You're just giving high school students headaches as they try to jot down your lyrics for the next miming session.<br />
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#7 Don't say your own name more than once in your own song. Twice, if you really must. We are not complete idiots. The radio presenters will tell us. you told us at the beginning. You'll probably say it in the outro. Don't throw it in the lyrics every now and then, even if it rhymes with 'pizza'.<br />
<br />
Now that you're armed to the teeth with this advice, you can head over to the studio and work on another run-of-the-mill hit song. Hopefully we'll have pleasant memories of it several years later, like we do now whenever we listen to 'Mic ya Ziggy Dee'.Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-51087999768815730752015-11-29T13:59:00.000+03:002015-11-29T14:03:30.587+03:00Crossing the Teenage Threshold<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCpVSpWJuX1nxkE1OfXNz9M_5szfqnp0ElC7kkO_6lZ1QopiDC9CrXhnwWcjNddA-Mz03y9SuFD4ajWNAy5m3iCIBNaq-S7xtm_gB6RAsrNzYHCsg9mvCNjZlz8efrLoEWxHrKpiOBGpw/s1600/Girl-Corn-Field-Clouds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCpVSpWJuX1nxkE1OfXNz9M_5szfqnp0ElC7kkO_6lZ1QopiDC9CrXhnwWcjNddA-Mz03y9SuFD4ajWNAy5m3iCIBNaq-S7xtm_gB6RAsrNzYHCsg9mvCNjZlz8efrLoEWxHrKpiOBGpw/s400/Girl-Corn-Field-Clouds.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of skinnerart.photoshelter.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
When you're a teenager, the world is vibrant and full of opportunity. It's like there's a wall that's been in front of you for a very long time. You've always wondered what things were like on the other side of the wall. You always heard sounds of laughter and playful banter floating over it for your little ears to absorb and interpret in whatever way your young mind can. Then one day, you had grown big enough to see for yourself what was on the other end. Being a teenager means being on the fence. There are perks to being young, but there's privileges to being mature too. People begin to trust you and let you go off and do things on your own. But as you grow older, your tolerance for childishness reduces. Suddenly, your primary school going sibling is so boring you wonder how you guys ever enjoyed time together. Suddenly, everyone younger than you is a nuisance. What with all their pettiness and constant need for attention, right? You find that your concerns are bigger and more immediate than a mere snack while on your way to see a favourite auntie.<br />
<br />
Since you've spent so much time being childish, you're now eager to do a little more adult stuff. All the things you were previously deemed too young to do are now within reach. You can stay out a little later, go off on trips with little or no supervision, drink some alcohol, and find out the extent to which your body is changing, along with the new desires you have. As a teenager, you feel like sex is on the table. Well, no, not like that. I mean that you feel you can now indulge in the hallowed activity of sex. Why? Because as you grew up, sex was shrouded in so much mystery that all it ever did to you was fill you with curiosity. You had to cover your eyes whenever a love scene was on TV. Of course, your parents/guardians wouldn't be caught dead trying to explain such things to you. They'd rather leave it to your teachers and peers at school. You were left to figure out the rest. The most they could do was say, 'Don't have sex. It's bad. Okay?' Then you asked yourself, "If it's so bad, why do the people having it seem to enjoy it?" Turns out, the main thing driving you to sex is curiosity. Until you learn that sex has so many faces.<br />
<br />
There's a reason that the adults always said to at least 'wait until you're old enough'. Mainly it was because you needed to see the bigger picture. Sex is exciting, but it has an uncanny way of changing people's lives in ways that nothing else does. For instance, getting pregnant can change many things, especially if you're a teenager. Then it occurs to you that you're not so informed as you had thought. Sure, your pals had told you how epic it was to be sexually active. But most of that is just words. And even if there's some truth in it, luck eventually runs out when there's no method to your actions. If you don't use condoms, or any other contraceptive, there will be pregnancy. "But sex is better without the condom," they say. It is a fact, but there will be time for that at some point. You first need to stay safe and healthy. The teenage body is only beginning to modify itself for sexual activity, so it's rather unpredictable. And vulnerable. And a teenage pregnancy is nothing to smile about. The one constant is the threat to the young mother's life. Still, we make mistakes. Some heavier than others, but no need to ostracize. What I'd want our teenagers to know is that there are mistakes that can be avoided simply by postponing the activity until they know better. They say, "Never make a deal until you've listened to all the options." All it takes is to listen, and you might be saved from the dangers of your mistakes. By the way, condoms and contraceptives are not ways adults contrived to take the pleasure out of sex. Those things are meant to keep you safe from most sexually transmitted problems. And teenage pregnancy is one of them. Don't leave things to chance. Talk to someone older/more mature. A word could change the course of a teenager's life without them ever knowing it.<br />
<br />
As the teenager can now see the green fields on the other side of the wall, they can also see the storm-clouds gather in the skies about. Naturally, they'd seek out shelter. It's not all fun and games, but just because the sun doesn't shine doesn't mean they shouldn't make the most of a grim situation. Should they insist on braving the storm, they would at least consider an umbrella or a raincoat. Or they can just wait until the weather's fine and jump about freely, without the restrictions of umbrellas and heavy raincoats. Enough analogy? Alright then, you should not have sex until you at least know about teenage pregnancy, STDs, contraceptives and the legal age of consent (I'll expound these soon).<br />
<br />
Safety first, always.<br />
<br />
#EndTeenagePregnancy #Twefugge<br />
<br />Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-67616556625309937902015-11-05T13:23:00.000+03:002015-11-05T13:23:33.300+03:00Shattering A Teenage Dream<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm2GQEtvZFIGV7iRW2Tq7ZPGZN8HVjldzUjaOJEQipHXTBS5_3jKT__f3b732UjxsjNI17NioKH2XERQjs1P8u2ovbhGoEJw2n9dCEsoxV-V17XkG3hk8qsXdVHWl1Gk1ywHxwlj-IJo/s1600/sad+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtm2GQEtvZFIGV7iRW2Tq7ZPGZN8HVjldzUjaOJEQipHXTBS5_3jKT__f3b732UjxsjNI17NioKH2XERQjs1P8u2ovbhGoEJw2n9dCEsoxV-V17XkG3hk8qsXdVHWl1Gk1ywHxwlj-IJo/s400/sad+girl.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image courtesy of flickr.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The world is exciting and scary enough for 16 year old Daisy,
a teenager like many others. She’s a bag of emotions and a large appetite, both
for food and for life. Filled with youthful vigour, Daisy will tackle every
challenge with the same attitude. She dreams of being an accountant someday. And
all that happens while she tries to find her place in this world. It’s like
crossing the hallowed threshold between two worlds. She is no longer a child,
and doesn’t want to be treated as such. She is not yet an adult, but she want
to be respected and taken seriously. One thing that remains true is that she is
not as misunderstood as she thinks. The older people that she looks up to were
once teenagers, like her. She may not know it at the time, but they do
understand what she’s going through. And at that time, she needs someone she
can relate with, so she mostly relies on her peers. Among her relatives, she
confides in her auntie, who’s not as authoritative as her mother and is much
easier to talk to.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is a tricky time for Daisy because adolescents (young
people between the ages of 10-19 years) are often thought of as a healthy
group. And yet, many adolescents do die prematurely due to suicide, pregnancy
related complications and other illnesses that are either preventable or
treatable. In addition, many serious diseases in adulthood have their roots in
adolescence. For example, tobacco use, sexually transmitted infections
including HIV, poor eating and exercise habits, lead to illness or premature
death later in life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Daisy, through her friendly auntie, gets to know many of
these issues and she talks about these things with her friends. Her auntie
advises her to delay sex and stay in school for as long as possible. In the
event that Daisy becomes sexually active, her auntie strongly recommends that
she uses contraceptives, the easiest of which is to use condoms. She might be labeled
as uncool by her peers as they indulge in wanton sex, alcohol and drug binges. However,
resolve is not easily found in solitude when you’re young. No one wants to be
left out. No one wants to be the outcast. The days of ridicule from peers are
long and stressful. The mockery and calls of cowardice are too much for Daisy
to bear. So, despite her knowledge, she decides to indulge without proper
safety measures, in sex and other related activities. When she later discovers
that she’s pregnant, she tries to hide the fact from everyone, even her beloved
auntie. But the signs are too evident for her auntie to miss. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Teenage pregnancies are mostly unwanted and occur in girls
below 19 years of age. Due to the burning desire of youth and lacking knowledge
on sex education and family planning, it is very common. It can cost the girls
(and the boys) in terms of school, respect of the community, and financially,
seeing as neither parent is financially capable of raising a child, normally. This
is exactly the situation Daisy finds herself in. James, the 17 year old adolescent
responsible for the pregnancy, suggests that she aborts, because he’s not ready
to take care of a baby, let alone face his parents with such news. Mostly, he’s
motivated by fear more than a general lack of respect for human life. He really
doesn’t know any better. They both worry about dropping out of school and the
death of their dreams. He is also afraid that he might be imprisoned for having
sex with an underage girl. She is worried that she might get complications and disabilities
resulting from difficult deliveries or experience obstructed labour that may
damage her bladder. As a teenager, her body is not yet fully developed enough
for childbirth, so these complications might happen to her. She’s also wary of
the wrath she’ll face from her parents when they find out. Daisy contemplates
suicide, running away from home, and even abortion. She’s ashamed of what she
has done and the friends who once encouraged her to indulge are now mocking her
for her apparent stupidity. To Daisy, the world has become a harsh place and
her dreams have been shattered. If only she could find the support she so
desperately needs from the people around her, she wouldn’t resort to such
drastic measures. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Weighed down by immense sadness, Daisy goes to her auntie
and bares all her pain and anguish to her, as if to tell herself that telling someone
at least should ease the burden. Her auntie is surprisingly supportive to
Daisy, and comforts her, saying it is not the end. She accompanies Daisy as
they break the news to her parents. Much as the parents are furious and say
that Daisy has destroyed her own future, they still care about the health of
their child. They encourage her to visit the nearest health facility for
antenatal care at least 4 times during the pregnancy, while they prepare to
take care of her baby. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Daisy realizes that if she had heard about family planning,
she would have known better. But even as she gets to know about it after her
pregnancy, she can better plan for her future. Family planning involves having (the
number of) children when you want them. This avoids unplanned pregnancies and
having children you are not ready to take care of. Children are our legacy, the
fruit of the womb, and deserve a good chance at life. With appropriate
planning, parents can be able to offer the children whatever they need to live
a healthy life filled with promise and opportunity. There are different methods
of family planning available for both young men/boys and women/girls. These
include: condoms (both male and female), pills for women, injectables and
implants for women. Daisy learns that she can apply family planning later in
her life when she has settled down. For now, she needs to concentrate on making
sure that she gives birth to a healthy baby. She makes sure she eats right and
even goes for HIV testing. Fortunately, she’s negative so if she does
everything her parents and auntie tell her, she will give birth to a healthy
baby.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eventually, Daisy safely gives birth to a baby girl. Her
relatives are happy for her and are more than willing to pitch in and help
Daisy care for the baby. However, her auntie reminds her that with or without
help from the baby’s father, she is responsible for the livelihood of her
child. While her auntie helps Daisy try and get support from him, Daisy should
find a way to provide for the child. That’s when Daisy learns about income generating
activities and entrepreneurship skills training. Learning how to sustain
herself despite the odds boost her level of confidence and sense of purpose. Daisy
finds work in a salon, where she starts to learn the essentials of running a
business, in conjunction with attending entrepreneurship and financial literacy
classes. She believes that eventually, she will be able to start her own
business and be able to take care of her child properly. Life may have taken
her along a much different path than she had imagined, but she’s confident that
she’ll make it work somehow. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unfortunately, some girls do not get the help, advice, or
support that Daisy got. There are several abortions and birth related deaths
all over the country. But all these problems start somewhere. Whether it is
forced or consensual, teenage pregnancy must be avoided at all costs because
there’s also health implications for the young mother. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>There’s no substitute
for either school or health, and thus they must be preserved.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
#EndTeenagePregnancy #Twefugge</div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-20376030133373742042015-10-30T12:34:00.001+03:002015-10-30T12:34:52.197+03:00Safyre's Thirteen 3 Somethings...After reading <a href="https://edmokmg.wordpress.com/">Basix</a>‘s latest joint, I feel somewhat inspired to 'take part' in this kind of thing. <br />
<br />
<strong>3 things that scare me…</strong><br />Misplacing my keys <br />
A phone call from a certain cousin <br />
The phrase 'We need to talk.'<br />
<br />
<strong>3 people who make me laugh…</strong><br />Babies<br />
Christine (she knows herself)<br />
The guy that serves me Absinthe<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I love…</strong><br />
The burger from Sausage King, Kisementi<br />
Batman<br />
Playing guitar<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I hate…</strong><br />
Being asked if I'm a comedian <br />
Being called a nice guy <br />
People that don't respect premium whiskey<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I don’t understand…</strong><br />
Instagram<br />
Texting while driving<br />
Feminist logic<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things on my desk…</strong><br />
Notebook<br />
Laptop <br />
A book titled 'WTF, Evolution?! - A Theory Of Unintelligible Design'<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I’m doing right now…</strong><br />
Sipping cheap coffee<br />
Typing<br />
Listening to Wizkid<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I want to do before I die…</strong><br />
Invent something (preferably useful)<br />
Be a father<br />
See the Northern Lights<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I can do well…</strong><br />
Read<br />
Write<br />
Fix stuff<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I can’t do…</strong><br />
Sing<br />
Lift a TV with one hand<br />
Hug properly<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I should listen to…</strong><br />
Adele's music<br />
Advice<br />
The laugh of an amused baby<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I shouldn’t listen to…</strong><br />
Heavy metal<br />
The ramblings of a certain uncle<br />
A jackhammer being operated in my vicinity<br />
<br />
<strong>3 things I watched as a kid…</strong><br />
Tom and Jerry<br />
Charlie Chaplin<br />
Time Trax<br />
<br />
Don't be shy. Try doing your version. For now, I invite <a href="https://nevender.wordpress.com/">Nev</a>, <a href="http://mufirika.blogspot.ug/">Gerard</a>, <a href="https://kirabobyabashaija.wordpress.com/">Lynn</a>, and <a href="https://balamaga.wordpress.com/">Rogers</a> to partake (evil smirk).Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-68059225614688635812015-10-20T18:04:00.001+03:002015-10-20T18:04:51.241+03:00Phone wars... Or is it 'woes'?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_VS7jBQDKVSMMyWvQYcgXRZ5p-gBbv6xZ5mniy6wTlifczgDXAMX5Xk6WV_lHUBuX10dnURbJkbVDMTh09mjYeOEaXmM6Y6Kq81f083faFytxsh9XFu2nsALpc_uyZyVc5jP9qbhYbY/s1600/phones.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ_VS7jBQDKVSMMyWvQYcgXRZ5p-gBbv6xZ5mniy6wTlifczgDXAMX5Xk6WV_lHUBuX10dnURbJkbVDMTh09mjYeOEaXmM6Y6Kq81f083faFytxsh9XFu2nsALpc_uyZyVc5jP9qbhYbY/s400/phones.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
We've really come a long way from the cartoonish green screens to the vibrant colour displays of modern smartphones. The advent of smartphones was a godsend. We were saved from banal and
leg-breaking banter that filled up most of our days.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You remember how awkward it
was to be waiting in a restaurant reading old text messages on your tiny Nokia
2300 while you waited for your date to show up? We don’t have to do that
anymore. Now, you could be reading a book, going through those (usually
hilarious) WhatsApp pictures and videos, play an epic role playing game, or
simple Candy Crush. Anyway, waiting has been made so easy it’s practically an
item on everyone’s roster. If those guys in the reception lounge are anything
to go by, you’d be forgiven to think they just came for a nonexistent meeting
simply so they could sit in the vey comfy leather couches and surf using the
office Wi-Fi. Were you the awkward introvert at parties, who was always forced
to ‘go make some friends’? No problem. If the pictures on your phone won’t
break the ice with the saucy stranger, you might as well just talk about it to
your friends on social media. It’s a brave new world for people out there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm yet to find a direct correlation between phone size and social status. The iPhones are small but seem to command respect. But not from the guys who rock Google Nexus phones. Those ones look at the iPhone guys like they are cavemen beating at a computer. I'm not one to judge. One should always get what makes them happy. Unless you're a heavy user of Instagram. In that case, the bigger the screen, the better. Trust me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, it’s all fun and games until the battery
inevitably runs low. Man, these phones are such power-hogs. My previous phone probably
had the record for the fastest battery drain, going from 100% to 0% in an
astonishing 4 hours and 12 minutes. Yes, it was officially timed. So, I was the
guy moving about with a charger all the time. I still detest power banks,
because it would barely ever solve my particular problem. In its defence, it
really was a tired old phone. Still, it made for interesting social situations.
As a habit, I found myself engaging in social graces only if the battery was
low. I won’t speak of the merits that resulted from such habits, but let’s just
say it was tiresome. So, when it became inevitable to ditch it, I decided to
take it several notches higher. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My current phone, which I fondly call ‘The Armoured Titan’
is quite the beast. I scoff at power banks now. It’s such a behemoth that it’s frighteningly
sluggish. Its current record is from 100% to 7% in 46 hours. And that is on
average usage. The best part is that I can continue to be antisocial without fear of my
battery running out, thereby forcing me to endure tiresome interactions. </div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6706988621576035446.post-85744870935655806012015-10-19T17:16:00.000+03:002015-10-19T17:16:21.031+03:00The Impersonal Side Of Transporters<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHgtmGIsaWk9RseK9fE1UQ6U7JTkYQyXBXukYyajRedacD0X8QjWv2o-n9FLmzE73-7SSBMytEB_aVyx242W3bBOAb2vw74YCd-CKjhb48_xXFBxW5dQrQTCckg7j14GFeDctsC7t5Gs/s1600/boda+guy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcHgtmGIsaWk9RseK9fE1UQ6U7JTkYQyXBXukYyajRedacD0X8QjWv2o-n9FLmzE73-7SSBMytEB_aVyx242W3bBOAb2vw74YCd-CKjhb48_xXFBxW5dQrQTCckg7j14GFeDctsC7t5Gs/s400/boda+guy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So, you think that gives you the right to judge me?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve had the most random misadventures with transportation
personnel. The
boda guys are so far the biggest culprits of this habit. The boda guy will ask
you about your children. Then he will sound offended when you tell him you’re
still childless. Then he will remark about how he’s about your age and yet he
has three children. He’ll even ask you what you’re waiting for. And you’ll ask
yourself the same question, forgetting that you actually know the reason why
you’re single and childless, not in any particular order. So, you’ll tell him
to be quiet and just ride along. For some reason, that instruction will only
slip through his mind like water on the back of a duck. He’ll ask you about ‘Tubonge’. He will sigh
with bemusement when you tell him you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking
about. He’ll then take it upon himself to educate your ignorant self about his
political views. At some point, you’ll
just give up and sit silently until you reach your destination. You pay him and
delightfully see him ride out of your life. But that never helps when you have
a designated boda guy. You can rest assured that you’ll continue that conversation
next time you require his services. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then there’s the taxi guys. Now, I tend to find myself in
late night taxis with a disturbing frequency. There’s nothing you want more
than to take the short trip from office to home after a long day, so you can
relax and unwind, and munch cereal for dinner. If you’re a bachelor, the rules
for nutrition are not written on the wall. Normally, you’re the only guy
waiting for a taxi at the stage, and people are unlikely to be walking slowly
at that time. It is my working assumption that people who are at taxi stages at
night know where they are going. Therefore, I find it hard to understand why a
conductor stops in front of a couple who are not even at the roadside, to ask
them if they are going. The conductor will completely ignore the fact that the
couple are lovingly gazing into each other’s eyes and whispering unmentionables.
Of course the other passengers will point out the obvious. But upon looking at
the 6 people in the taxi, the conductor will feel obliged to try and convince the lovebirds to continue in the taxi so he can meet his night quota. Having been
rejected by that couple, the conductor will look across the road at a random
guy buying roasted maize. He will shout towards him, asking whether he is
going. I don’t know what gesture the guy could have responded with that
encourages the conductor to wait for him. Because as soon as the guy gets his
maize, he heads off in the opposite direction, at which point the driver will
call the conductor names and drive off.
The whole journey takes twice as long as it should, with the conductor
repeating this error until you reach your stage. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, some people have the benefit of walking home from the
taxi stage. That can be surreal, especially in the moonlight after a long day.
You get to relax your thoughts and compose poetry. I’m not one of those people.
I’m one of those that needs to get a boda to take me home from the stage, for
it is not a walkable distance by my standards. So, I begrudgingly greet the
boda guy, hoping for a swift and peaceful ride home. And that’s what it’s like
for a few minutes until the boda guy says, “But you... Why
don’t you have a woman at home so you can go home early instead of being out
till late?”<o:p></o:p></div>
Safyrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04836091628578913113noreply@blogger.com1