My life has been characterized by the universe derailing my career ambitions:

• I wanted to go to Kenya High but ended up in PB.

• I wanted to study abroad, but I'm a comrade.

• I wasn't sure “what I wanted to be when I grew up.” Somehow that translated into being an Economics major.

• I had always promised myself I'd never be a mother, but… Shindwe pepo mbaya. (The good pepo can hmu.)

The list goes on and on. Heck, even Kessentials was totally unplanned, but such serendipitous reroutes convince me that something somewhere is taking me exactly where I should be.

I don't know where that is, na saa zingine nasikianga ni ka nimepitishwa. What I do know is that I like how my life is turning out.

"Trust the process" is unpopular in some circles, but I've found it calming. Even if things haven't been going your way lately–or ever–I dare you to trust it, too.

Mantra Suggestion: “Celebrities Aren’t That Big A Deal”

Anyone trying to appeal to a large group knows that enlisting celebrities to help their cause is crucial.

In that vein, my friend advised me to feature a 24/7/365 live update of Carrie Wahu's life here if I want to put Kessentials on the map. Interestingly, my friend is a law student, so I suspect his advice wasn’t selfless.

That conversation brought to mind something I think about sporadically: Why the heck do we care so much about celebrities?

Let’s go back to 18th December when Salt Bae snuck onto the World Cup pitch to snap selfies with Messi and Co. illegally. And this guy is a celebrity himself! Way to remove the hardy from foolhardy.

Look, I get it. Celebs are so awe-inspiring that we're lured into their virtual appearances. We imagine that meeting them would infuse us with some of their greatness. We’re down bad in these parasocial relationships, but here’s the kicker: our dearest entertainers don’t know we exist and probably never will.

Celebrity culture emerged in 20th century America to boost public figures’ prominence. The more famous early celebrities got, the more easily they could sell people stuff. And even if you didn’t have that salesperson’s touch, social currency was independently potent. In this internet age, that potency has done hundreds of years worth of cocaine.

Consider how Justin Bieber, Paris Hilton, Tom Brady, etc. successfully sold Bored Ape NFTs to their fans, only for their alleged monkey business to come to light later.

I once overheard some girls in my class remarking that they'd be down to get ripped off by Sakaja. If I retraced the trail of thoughts that led them there, I'm sure my investigation would be short-lived.

And let’s not even start with the grown women who throw their underwear at artists on stage. (BTW, society kind of accepted this as a thing women do, but if a man were to repeat it targeting a female artist, the police would be on the line.)

Some reminders:

• Idolizing human beings in whatever capacity is so yesterday.

• A billionaire doesn't necessarily have the skills to save the world (or our favorite social media platform).

• The glow of that spotlight may be scorching your parasocial partner:

This was a very difficult post to stitch together, particularly in the wake of Rihanna’s explosive halftime show. So if you want to flush everything you've read in today's Kessentials down the toilet, I wouldn't be mad at you.

Si mkuwe na siku poa 🙃

Kessentials.