Miss Balance

When I Was 25, It Was A Very Good Year

2011-12-05T16:06:00.001+01:00

What’s on an interviewer’s scoreboard? I couldn’t tell fromlooking at his face. I was interviewing for my dream position and had been ‘marking’this firm for two years. I was finally ready with the required background/workexperience and sent in my resume. That gotme on the longest interview chain with hurdles and hurdles of never-endingnerve-wracking tests and interview stages. Apparently, the unit I was applying to was a male-dominatedone, or headed by males only. My first interviewer was a senior, as they arecalled. He started off easy, made small talk before picking his notepad and thenhe put on some sort of game face, probing and penning as I supplied answers to hismissiles. The interview lasted exactly forty-five minutes, we exchanged pleasantriesand I took my leave and called up a friend in the area to rid the tension over drinks and a movie. The next time I would receive an email from this firmwould be seventy-two hours later, informing me of my success at the second tierand inviting me to a third - an interview with a senior manager. This would be my most unnerving interviewever, and it did not help that his facial features were quite unfriendly. Goingby the look on his face gave me the feeling my scores were not doing too wellon his board. I risked all and broke the ice with a joke attempt. It worked, helaughed and I regained confidence until the interview delved into unfamiliarterritories where I struggled to stay afloat without upsetting my external temperament.I walked out at the end feeling somewhat unsure about my performance. The waitinginterval was again the usual seventy two hours, but even the Good Book states that‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick.’

The email finally came and yes, it was a success once again.The final hurdle would be with the firm’s senior partner. I had subscribed to newsgroupsand newsletters around the Internet, had printed and copied pagesof researched information I deemed relevant and graduallymade a pastime of watching segments with related content on CNN, CNBC etc,. Imean, I’d been doing that for two years and this was my chance.

I arrived at the venue three hours early and got lost insome literature placed at the reception until it was time and I was called in.The interview was as basic as ABC, there were no outlandish questions, and infifteen minutes it was over. He closed with a brain teaser which caught me off guard.Then he explained the solution to me and I replied, “Could you give me anotherone? I need to redeem my image here.” He laughed and said, “Oh yeah?” and pulledout another brain teaser. His facial expression read ‘pleasantly surprised’ whenI gave him the correct answer and then the interview was over. I left satisfied,pleased and confident. Surely, the next incoming email would be an offer.

When that email finally came in seventy two hours, it read:

“Thank you for taking the time to discuss employment opportunitieswith us ... However, we will not be continuing this interviewing process with you...”

That was what the abrupt end of six months of tests and interviews looked like. I accepted a pending joboffer from a different company, lost a healthy chunk of optimism (which I thankfully did not find in appetite), kicked into quarter-life crises and numbed out for the next four months, which finally ended three days ago. It still was a very good year, regardless, even though Sinatra missed out recording his highlights at that age ... if they were any. But he ended his like vintage wine. Mazel Tov!

There was nothing to write about London

2011-12-01T20:19:00.000+01:00

The week was crammed with too many things to do, people to see. The high point however, was meeting up with best friends from high school who now had businesses and families of their own and of course, running and getting around with a 'partner in crime' from undergrad days. Manchester, Peckham, Lancaster, London in seven days, no small feat.
There was barely time to sit and enjoy any scenery but I must add that the coffee on Starbucks, 19 Market Street, Lancaster was heavenly. The barista called it Creme Brulee Macchiato, nothing like anything in my entire coffee drinking experience. The ambience was just perfect - the wallpaper, the interior decor interwove beautifully with Marvin Gaye's 'I Heard It Through The Grapevine' softly playing in the backround. So was clubbing at Elements on Friday night and Saturday singing Madonna's hits at the pub/karaoke spot on King's Street.

And by the way, Americans are way friendlier than the Brits.

Maybe on the next trip. Maybe.

Book Review: 'Whatever You Think, Think The Opposite' by Paul Arden

2011-11-04T03:35:00.003+01:00

Title: Whatever you think, think the opposite Author: Paul Arden
Publisher: Portfolio Trade
Publication Date: March 10, 2006

Pages: 144 pages (Paperback)
ISBN-10: 1591841216, ISBN-13: 978-1591841210                                                                  Language: English

The genius thing about this book is that it looks like there's really nothing genius about it. In the simple type faced-easy to read in 15 minute-144 paged part look book part text book, Arden takes your mind on a paradigm shifting journey the length of a train ride from King’s Cross to Bounds Green. From PG Tips to CV Tips, he chips almost everything in between, forcing you to redefine your views and belief system about security, safety, stability, status quo, sense (and/or nonsense), satisfaction, school, shame, sanity and general outlook to life. I dare attempt to make my axioms of his axioms.

1. Embarrass yourself.

2. You might want to quit throwing pennies in a wishing well. You’re building a misfortune.

3. There's no wisdom in living a life of regrets: “Should have, would have, could have ...” are the words on a fool's cap.

4. While you may or may not have been involved with activities that may include pro-choice activism, endeavor to keep your inner child alive.

5. Push your mind to produce something of use – be it useless or useful.

6. Leave paper planes for origami. Your ambition should blast off in a rocket and blow your mind.

7. Choose to be propelled by your failure(s). The earlier you learn to reconstruct rejection and criticism, the better.

8. Simple interest = PTR/100, where P = Pay attention
                                                           T = To
                                                           R = Receive attention
                                                          100 = It’s foolproof

9. Why don’t you start your life with a goal post and then a goal?

10. To sum it up:

Cogito Ergo Sum,

Sum Ergo Find-Your-Ego.

11. And where you knew it to be antonyms, think synonyms i.e. ‘Right’ and ‘Wrong’ might as well be viewed as a bipolar perspective.

12. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is the man with a point of view. What do you think? Have an opinion.

13. “Even a bad idea executed is better than a good idea undone.” Plus you will never be Plato, so just get your balls in motion.

14. Of kleptomaniacs and queens of England, you are in good company. Kleptomania is a blue-blooded trait. Steal, but not with a peasant intent.

15. There’s no mistaking this; Ignorance is Bliss.

16. Think Different.* Be a maverick while you're alive.

Have you read this book? Share your opinions and favourite thoughts in the comment box.

*RIP Steve Jobs

The other day at Schiphol

2011-08-13T08:46:00.000+01:00

Travelling through Amsterdam, Netherlands requires being searched at the Schiphol airport security. Passengers at Schiphol have the option of being frisked or going through a scanner, and I chose to walk through. I got through without hassles to the other side and waited at my boarding gate while I absent-mindedly looked around for some sort of entertainment.

A scene got my full attention when one male passenger walked through the detector unsuccessfully. The detector had gone off and he was to be screened MANually by a male official. With a raised brow, I observed the degree of frisking and fondling going on and I looked around for other onlookers' reactions. The German speaking lads seated beside me were also watching, whispering and laughing. What was I missing? I took one more look at the scene and noticed the frisked man was beaming and grinning so much that I burst into fits of laughter. He was clearly being rubbed the right way.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Fulfilment

2011-07-13T06:38:00.001+01:00

I had practised and perfected my victory speech. Having worked and wanted it for so long, (the) reality could not find a more perfect match for my imagination. When it finally did arrive, I was too sure it would not be without cheers and clarinets and cymbals. Without a doubt, it was to be an unending moment of celebration.

In the back of a broken down car in an empty lot, waiting for the tow company, I am gazing at bored leaves in shades of orange and rusty brown, once green, propelled by the mischievous wind as they flap, float and fall lazily. Clouds are gathering and before long, easy raindrops begin to slide carefully down this side of the car's windows.
In one cool, quiet moment, I realise I am sitting right in the middle of my dream.
Treading so softly, blowing no trumpets or candles, my private victory finally did arrive and almost ... I almost missed it.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Gravity

2011-04-04T14:45:00.001+01:00

Feb 14 2011: They were arguing again but this time his words, once caustic, had long become blunt, they no longer hurt. The next time she saw him would be
Mar 30 2011: He came to town on Tuesday. When she saw him, he was wistful and she knew what he was thinking. Their eyes met, and he looked away. By morning, he was headed out of town before she even woke up.
April 2 2011: She called his phone. "Hello?" "Yes?" "Just wanted to say hello. Hope you're fine." "Yes, thank you." "Okay, bye." "Uhm."
Call duration: 16 seconds.
April 3 2011: Her phone rings. "Your father's in the hospital ... He had a stroke this morning ... He can't talk ..." Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

G is for Google, Great massages and Globetrotting without Girlfriends

2011-03-08T22:44:00.000+01:00

Yeah, what a title :)
Week 2, State 2: Florida.

Not sure I remember exactly how I felt when I woke up, but it was a feeling of being in a good place. I did my pre-shower rituals on my hair with hairsprays and things, wrapped it in a head wrapper thing and then in a shower cap and made to the shower. Good thing I had a room to myself as I croaked a song whose title eludes me as I showered and got ready to start my day. It felt like a perfect day to wear a rose pink long sleeved shirt, black trousers, with shoes right for walking. There were Epcot buses around to convey participants from the hotels to the convention centre, but that 'good place feeling' prodded and I took to walking instead. Arrived at the convention centre a tad too early for my meeting with the international members of the group and I wandered off to a resource centre to use up my extra time before the meeting kicked off.
At another time between appointments, I took the leisure of walking into massage parlour and the following is the account of the best $15 I have EVER spent. I opted for the 'stress buster' package and submitted my body with my face down to a hunky Latin American masseur who handled and manipulated layers of stressed muscles. He correctly pointed out unease somewhere between my ‘12th and 13th ribs’ which he said was from traveling long hours, in addition to carrying a laptop on my shoulder. I still sigh in relief to this very day.

Afterwards, I met up with a lady from Panama, who I had only met the previous day. We bonded discussing career paths, starting a family, cultures and other spheres of life, over rum and coke with a meal of potato skins, buffalo wings, celery at Fuddruckers. She was slightly older and had recently got married to her high school sweetheart. One, two, three hours slipped unnoticed until one of our phones sent a reminder: SHOPPING!

It wasn't until Friday night came that I realised that I was in an unfamiliar location with no friends in the vicinity. My Panamanian friend didn’t offer me the luxury of Friday night entertainment and I didn’t expect her to, for obvious reasons. There was this other lady who I met a year ago at a similar Engineering women's conference in a different city. She was Canadian and it was her first time in LA, as it was mine and at the end of week we all hooked up to find a cure for our Friday night fever. This time around, she was also in Orlando with a married status and gave seemingly reasonable reasons why she wouldn't be available for a night out. I typed "Nightlife on International Drive, Orlando, Florida" in my browser’s toolbar and the friend that is Google, responded. Showered after a light dinner, watched reruns of Family Guy and BET's Wendy Williams show which I wasn't a fan of but for some reason couldn’t flip the channel. At 12:30am I threw on a number, did a routine check for my ID, money, camera, and headed out on my own. I started with the "Backstage" which was on the ground floor of my hotel, enjoyed the music and the attention from being a brown female in a white bar and later hit the road to find some other forms of nocturnal activity in Orlando at 2a.m. Did a bit of sightseeing and photography, and headed back when I was done for the night.

Saturday night was way more eventful ;)

Moi, toi et Ménage à trois

2011-02-28T09:30:00.000+01:00

Beautiful Saturday morning, trapped in the house by the rain. While the angry thunder seeks to be pacified as raindrops trickle down my window pane on the outside, it's me, John Legend and a cup of latte indoors this morning. Pure therapeutic algebra: Rain, Coffee and Music.

What could possibly go wrong with this divine trio?
Sure to wipe off a writer's tears and put an end to his cramped flow, be it dusk or dawn.
The rain's there to inspire a calm,
The music to soothe like a good masseur,
And steaming coffee bridges your lips to your soul.
It's the beginning of true poetry.

Inhale, dance, write.
Search your soul. Silence your fears.
Ignite your essence. Rouse your senses.
Revive your passions. Relive your dreams.
Relish the moment. Find your balance.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Looking for my blind side

2011-02-23T20:35:00.001+01:00

July 6th 2009.

Me: Dear friend, please I need your candid opinion. What one thing is very obvious to you as my effortless strength? Your response is invaluable.

Michael Nnochiri: Goal getter!

Tolu Faloye: Writing.

Ladun Olatunde: Writing articles, reading cramming song lyrics...looking pretty. lol. Making fabulous friends and bringing people together.

Anne Ayang: Guess your ability to manage work n pleasure. Insatiable thirst for information that gives you an edge.

Mark Akpaibor: For me it's your SET mind. You are very determined and when you put your mind to do something no matter how obscene, you do it.

Oluchi Duru: Your ability to bring people together, to reach out to people and draw them to you somehow. I think it has to do with charisma.

Tobi Ogundolapo: Your ability to express your self in words.

Jide Ayeni: Discipline and honesty.

Deola Owokade: You have lovely listening skills. You are fun to talk to and share problems with.

Jolaade Alao: Your ability to stay calm in the face of a storm.

Emi Longe: Your independence and strength of character. Also, your ability to be candid with yourself and to be yourself no matter.

Lotanna Egwuatu: Your writing.

Damilola Adu: Your writing. You tend to draw people to you or people like you naturally without you making any effort.

Simbo Olatoregun: Your loyalty to your friends, your creativity (A la TTG group 8 drama), the name 'pink suede', your desktop background at times, your maturity and your ability to give someone ALL your attention. I admire that a lot.

Sanmi Ibitoye: effortless strength to me is a person's ability given by nature. Basically more like one's strong point. And from a careful thought on who you are. It's obviously your ability to win people's confidence. Your personality commands respect, especially when one gets an initial impression that you just might be too fragile to pull a string you win with ease. I can't explain that. Loads of people fight so hard to achieve that.

Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Put a ring on it.

2011-02-23T20:06:00.000+01:00

Love makes the world go round. Or doesn't it?

February 14th 2010 happened to fall on a Sunday. The last time that happened was a year and a decade ago. This year I would be 'the Grinch who stole Valentine', or even the 'Ebenezer Scrooge of a Valentine Carol' (story for another day) so it made virtually no difference to me. Like I did on regular Sundays I went to church, but this Sunday, I would go late on purpose hoping to miss out on any soppy stunts and just get to the preaching. To my chagrin, I stepped in to a hall laced with red wrappings all over the place. Even the members of the congregation were not left out, clad in red clothes and accessories. Church was virtually bleeding on every side, irrespective of my lateness or mood.

And so it turned out the service was a Valentine's day program. The ushers and choristers and all the church workers had a touch of red going on. The song renditions were on agape love but LOVE all the same and as the event progressed, the senior pastor's wife asked the women whose husbands were present in church to march forward with gifts. Apparently the women had pre-rehearsed for this day and moment and the unsuspecting husbands were called on en masse to identify their wives and pick their Valentines pressies. I thought to myself, Church had not been so dramatic in a while. The men kissed and hugged and pecked and all forms of *PDA while the congregation consisting of desperate singles, widows and widowers looked on. One of the women took the microphone and started to give a vote of thanks to the husbands. She praised and appreciated and bragged about how good it felt to be married. Wow! The singles must have felt like jumping off a cliff at that point.
And then she said, "Shout Hallelujah if you love your husband(s)." And women thundered a response so loudly the roof must have shaken. Then she said, "If you had the chance of picking a husband all over again and you would pick the same man you are married to today, Shout Hallelujah!"

DEAD SILENCE!

And then a delayed chorus of "Hallelujah" ensued, followed by a guffaw from Ebenezerette Grinch.

*PDA – Public Display of Affection.

Wrote this last year, February 14 2010.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Testing

2011-02-23T19:04:00.000+01:00

Does this work? Just checking.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Life, Friendship and the Portland TrailBlazers.

2010-12-23T06:21:00.000+01:00

Weeks 7 and 8, State 4: Oregon.

I missed a flight and had to wait two hours to catch the next. While waiting, a woman in her sixties with a strong Southern accent paid me a compliment for looking good and started a conversation. We were to board the same flight and chatted about random topics spanning the weather up North, the British Royal family, the name 'Goodluck Jonathan', the new TSA policies, Lady Antebellum, the similarities between men in uniforms and men in tuxedos. It went on for two hours over drinks and a snack until it was time to board and we exchanged business cards.

I arrived Beaverton, the western suburb of Portland, Oregon at ten minutes to midnight. My hosts would be close friends of my mum's, an Italian-American couple who were within the 55-65 age bracket and worked from home. I had a good share of fine dining at upscale restaurants but in terms of adventure seeking or city discovery, it was practically a hopeless case with a spontaneous visit to the mountains and coast. A singular moment I would relish would be coming into the majestic presence of Mount Hood. Even the song I was listening to at the moment (Enigma's Return to Innocence) as we drove past the mountains was beautifully weaved into the breath-taking scene. We drove to the Cannon beach, hand-picked some sand dollars off the shore and stopped over at the legendary Mo's Chowder for some good seafood. Clam chowder, oyster soup, halibut, shrimp in lettuce and fries with a good bottle of white Riesling wine. On our way back, the clouds greeted with a rainbow. I got the memo, "Everything's gonna be alright."

Meeting up with their daughter who was within my age bracket was a timely intervention. She lives downtown of Portland, attends college and works part-time. My meandering could finally kick off to enjoy simple activities like reading the Poetry in Motion on the inside of the Trimet, picking up a copy of the Oregonian from the newsstand while taking a walk or just getting beaten by the rain. It did rain everyday in Beaverton and Portland. I also met up with a friend's relative for acquaintance over a coffee in Starbucks at the Pioneer Courthouse Square. It was a week to Christmas and the whole place was brimming with frenzied activities as shoppers scurried to put finishing touches to their annual Santa roles. Two little girls dressed in red and white entertained a sitting crowd with a Scottish dance, while drummers sat on the corner with upturned buckets with silly inscriptions giving the square a 'living room' feel. My companion and I took a drive uptown from the Northeast to the Southwest division, where they was a clear difference in demography, lifestyle and residential architecture. In a bid to find African cuisine, Google virtually presented us with two options, a 'Horn of Africa' which was not open at the time we got there, and a 'Queen of Sheba' which had a sign post that said 'we've moved'. Fortunately for our groaning tummies, the Asians welcomed us with arms wide open, and I had a memorable time eating Pad Thai and Gang garee and being interviewed by a nice, funny, sucker for romance Thai waitress.

Beulah Land on NE 28th Avenue was another hangout spot I liked. With my new group of friends, we met up there to watch the Portland Trail Blazers vs Milwaukee Bucks basketball game in HD glory. It was happy hour and I ordered a plate of hot wings and celery, with a side of mashed potatoes. To rent words from the KFC slogan, it was finger-lickin' good! While my friends had their pints of beer and glasses of 'dirty martinis' tweaked with vodka, I took a glass of water and was in no way timid when we gave a toast to life, love, friendship and the Portland Blazers. Cheers! And then, cheese! We took picture strips with silliest facial expressions at a photo booth. If you know me, you'll know I jump at every opportunity to act like a Disc Jockey and a semi-vintage juke box sat in the corner waiting for me to live my dream. I popped in a dollar bill for my listening pleasure and had Sam Cooke's 'Everybody loves to Cha cha cha', Sugar Ray's 'Rapper's Delight' and Otis Redding's 'Respect'. The night ended for me on a good note with the Blazers winning the game, and me having a slight headache after much 'CHALUPA' chanting as the Blazers had eclipsed the 100 point mark. We parted at 11:40pm, while the others sought to find a spot to stick a thumbtack in with their presence on a Monday night/Tuesday morning, I chose an all-time favourite: My bed.

Codename: Gulliver

2010-12-23T04:27:00.000+01:00

Miles away from home, seeking to enjoy a good balance of business and pleasure while giving in to wanderlust and searching for true enlightenment, I get the privilege of making a string of trips after weeks of reading reviews, penciling notes, oogling, googling and placing thumbtacks on my maps. Sometime last year, I assumed the role of an amateur photojournalist, attempted photoblogging but this time around, my camera made other plans and slipped into a coma. So without pictures and further ado, I break the hiatus.

Say NO to scrubs, and well of course, drugs.

2010-10-13T00:53:00.000+01:00

If you do read this, I need your heartfelt reactions and opinions. Kindly do me the honours of sharing your thoughts with me in the comment box, be you male or female.

A guy asks you out on a date. You're not exactly friends with him in the real sense of the word, neither are you strangers. You've pretty much known each other for a while but it's been nothing deep, just on a passing acquaintance level. Insisting he would like to treat you during this proposed date, he chooses the venue, you give your consent regarding the time and date. He offers to pick you up and shows up promptly. Conversation is brilliant, wit, chemistry, humour all hit the mark plus he's good looking too.

You arrive at the venue, it's an upscale restaurant. The waiter serves you both copies of the menu and Mr. Date reminds you that it's part of his treat to pick your meal and to this you don't decline and the order is made for you both. True to his word, the food is impeccable, worth every bit of the hype.

The waiter shows up at the end with the menu. Mr. Date picks it up, reads the bill note and puts an amount of money in the book, and hands it to you. You take and open it to discover he has put exactly half the amount that's stated on the bill. Yea, that's your cue; you are to pay for your food ...
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Humanity, Foreground, Big Picture, and Shape

2010-08-23T00:47:00.001+01:00

"You perceive the world with particular attention to humanity. You focus on what's in front of you (the foreground) and how that fits into the larger picture. You are also particularly drawn towards the shapes around you. Because of the value you place on humanity, you tend to seek out other people and get energized by being around others. You like to deal directly with whatever comes your way without dealing with speculating possibilities or outcomes you can't control. You are in tune with all that is around you and understand your life as part of a larger whole. You prefer a structured environment within which to live and you like things to be predictable."

That's the result I got from taking The Perception Personality Image Test. Try it if you're THIS bored. However, it's somewhat fascinating that the picture that describes my personality on the test site is somewhat like my present Facebook profile picture of myself. And for some reason, Blogger has refused to let me upload either. It's (still) a Goodnight post.

To Nwabundo Onyeabo, with Love.

2010-08-11T13:37:00.001+01:00

Nwando, I'm curious. What is it you think you have done with this book?
I was in the middle of a poem when I realised I was hearing my voice and
reading my lines, my thoughts, my language, my mentors and my soul in
your poetry. I mean, I could almost sue you for plagiarism.

You must know that my entire core dances with pride as if I have
published my own, my excitement as genuine as if 'Out of Curiousity'
is my baby.

You must know how much I cherish our friendship-cum-sisterhood-cum-'ejimatives'.
In your book, you've shown me that my ideas conceived during Christmas
hols in my hometown are ready to break free and be sold off
bookshelves in Lekki, Lome or Louisiana. That someone out there will
identify with my mind, however timid.

At this point, I will put this pen down and return to reading 'Between
Lovers', which is written in a language that I so love to mimic.
God bless you, Ejima m.

You are Greatness!

(Un)Happy feet

2010-07-11T21:37:00.001+01:00

It's Friday and I'm sitting in the banking hall of a popular Nigerian bank. It is cold in here, the ambience is lethargic, and every other person's talking with a voice that makes them sound like they are sleep-talking. As I wait for the successful negotiation of my transaction, there are not many pastime options and I am left with staring at the shoes of the bankers. Mentally, I begin to collect and analyse numerical data.

The men's shoes are black, polished, shiny, lace ups with upturned mouths. The heels range from 1-3cm thick: 2.54cm/1 inch. A third of the shoes are worn-out. A penny for your thoughts, what are you thinking when you wear worn-out shoes out? It is the intention of the writer of this article to alliterate as she digresses.

It must be bad shoe day. Or maybe Bad shoe Friday.

However, the socks are not so bad. There are no cartoon prints or riots or non-identical pairs, only monochrome shades of sock fabric.

I look to the women for aesthetic salvation. Where the Louboutins at? The Isaac Mizrahis, Steve Maddens, Manolo Blahniks ...? They must be firm believers in egalitarian principles: the situation of the women footwear is equally as calamitous. I really wonder if it being a Friday has got anything to do with it. It must be this bank. Or maybe this branch. It must be Ugly shoe day. Another guy saunters around wearing a pair of drivers, asks if I would like some tea or wine. DRIVERS! In the era of the dot com boom? That must be like twittering from a Nokia 3310 mobile phone.

I notice there's a generational gap between the bankers. I can clearly identify the interns from the old hands by their fashion (accessories, style, colours etc ) and the general TGIF approach.

Maybe the bankers start the week in their Manolo's, Mauri's, Moscoloni's and what have you (I'm really not up to date with men's corporate shoes, I'm relying on childhood memories of my dad wearing Mauri's and in more recent times, I spotted a pair of Stacy Adams in my brother's room) and as the weekdays roll out, their choice of footwear deteriorates and finally breaks down on Fridays.

What an unhappy bank :(
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Random: What would you do if ...

2010-06-05T11:29:00.000+01:00

... Some day you woke up, picked up your bb/mobile device/phone and tried to log on to twitter.com (or ÜberTwitter, Dabr, DestroyTwitter, TweetDeck, SnapTu, Tweet60, Digsby, SocialOomph, TweeteXtreme, Mobile tweete, TwitterFox, Twitter for Blackberry etc for some of u(s) addicts) and it just stared back at you? You think 'Whale Fail for the umpteenth time' and after a while you tried logging in via a PC and there it was, a different kind of Blue Screen of Death: 'This service no longer exists.'

What would you do?
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

"Animal Attraction"

2010-06-01T03:04:00.000+01:00

The last time I checked, a certain word defined a mountain lion. In more recent times, the word has metamorphosed to accommodate another definition.
cou·gar [kgər, k gaar]
(plural cou·gars or cou·gar)
noun
"a woman over forty who likes younger men because she doesn't like older men. Usually a cougar doesn't sexually pursue younger men but is attracted to these younger men, typically more than eight years her junior." [1]
It's an unfortunate fact of life that society views men very differently from women of the same vintage. It has been a societal pre-determination that men must be older in a dating relationship, for whatever reason it is. This means that if a woman turns the tables and dates a younger man, she is christened after an animal in the zoo whereas her male counterpart dates a younger lady, society regards this as normal and if she were born when he was already an adult, he may even get celebrated for it.
The idea that women should look for a man that is more educated, has a better job and makes more money to take care of her seems like a fairy tale now. Relationship taboos and conventions have clearly been loosened if not totally flouted, with regards to age, religion, race, economic status in recent times. Feminism has adopted even more suffragettes and enthusiasts, seeing more women becoming as ruthless and as successful as their bosses and even occupying laudable positions at the top of the corporate ladder. Women have learnt business secrets and the game rules for success from their male counterparts and many have gone further to run self-financed businesses, boosting their self-image and becoming self-sufficient. This empowered state and status has left a small pool of compatible men those two to three years older, of similar background and higher levels of education and income and may result in women having delayed marriage whereas men still have a tendency to date and marry younger women. Clearly, self-pollination and self-pity are not options for some. Cougars are fearless predators and are admired for their hunting skills. However, a cougar-cub alliance suggests that not all relationships spin around the axis of reproduction. Sometimes, sex is just about sex – even, heck, especially for women over 40. Some are content with having fun and others seek more in the relationship.

However the burgeoning question is why would younger men, knowing that they have quite a large selection of eager younger women to choose from, opt to date a cougar woman? Older mates are perceived to have greater resources, wisdom, and/or sexual knowledge.
Some say age is only a number when it comes to the heart. Where the women liked the vitality the younger man brought into their lives, men liked the confidence and maturity in the women, in spite of the sometimes uncomfortable generational differences and huge potential for infidelity.
Despite the fact that many cougars have undeniably earned major criticism for dating guys that can be young enough to be their own sons, cougar dating is already accepted and has even become the latest dating trend within the dating scene. It's a fairly well excepted theory that women mature ahead of men, so dating an older man makes a lot of sense for some couples. While the age difference may be obvious, the mental connection is often on the level. However when an older woman is dating a young beau, isn't she dumbing down to his level? (My thoughts in a most sincere question, please).
Would you date someone younger? If so, how many years younger?

[1] Wikipedia - "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Age_disparity_in_sexual_relationships"
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Woman nature

2010-05-07T12:51:00.001+01:00

The Seven Wonders of the World were known to be works of art and architecture regarded by ancient Greek and Roman observers as the most extraordinary structures of antiquity. History has it that there has been no small squabble over having more additions to this list, and from all indications the eighth entry would have to be an object of mystery and a well-guarded secret. This object would be no other than the woman's handbag.

Try this: Ask a man and a woman to borrow some change and watch the reactions. Once you are able to get him to agree, the man probably will produce his wallet from a very practical pocket located in his jacket or trousers without much ado. Contrarily, you will likely experience a panic attack by the woman as she will delve into her handbag and start a frenzied search for her purse amid the sea of objects. The man's pocket which simply serves the purpose of storage is therefore no match for the woman’s handbag.
With the increasing size of this artefact, women cram even more into their handbags. It appears there is a trend for heavy burdens in more recent times and this brings us to the billion dollar question:
What really is inside the bag?
Survey says the basics are: a mobile phone, a purse with filled compartments for bank cards, business cards, vouchers and receipts as well as cash and keys.
Sometimes other items found in the departments of this treasured abyss may include a compact umbrella, sunglasses, a camera, feminine hygiene products, painkillers, hand lotion, a bottle of water, a key holder cum bottle opener, sometimes a laptop and even auxiliary footwear! Believe me; this list is in no way exhaustive as I have personally seen a puppy peek out of a lady's Jimmy Choo handbag and it wasn't Elle Woods from Legally Blonde. It was my sister.

With these contents come reasons. The iPods and novels fit into the pastime category, notebooks and a handful of pens for to-do and shopping lists; a make-up bag containing emergency touch-up essentials; perfume; a hairbrush; cookies etc. You ask why the need to carry around so much. Security- knowing their most treasured things are with them at all times. Others believe that they are ready and equipped for any situation or event ranging from unexpected work meetings to spontaneous after-work drink invitations. The content of a woman's handbag may very well be a reflection of her personality.
Whatever the reason, a woman's handbag clearly is an essential part of their lives and has evolved into a mobile apartment with straps: a home away from home.

p.s. So I admit I bagged an extra pair of shoes to work today. Bite me, I'm only woman ;)

Mic check

2010-05-04T15:58:00.000+01:00

Just wanna see how/if this works.
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

Well, it's an update.

2010-04-09T18:11:00.000+01:00

I heard y’all wanted to know what it was that Close Male Friend told me on Val’s day. LOL! I wasn’t teasing or pulling any thriller stunts. I thought it was appropriate that the blog post ended when it did and that’s why I wrapped it up where I did. Well, nothing has changed; I still don’t have a boyfriend. Not like I even took the advice. Don’t get worried though. It’s not a big deal. Yet.

This should be the/my most Random blog post ever. Here goes:

Right now, I’m home, listening to Meat Loaf and I have Erykah Badu, John Legend, Timbaland, Donell Jones, Diana Ross, Barry White, Common , Blackstreet queued on my playlist. I spent the earlier part of today with one of my mentors who first protected my interest and reinforced my passion for telecommunications.

Does anyone of you know I’m an NYSC corps member? Signify in the comments box please. All this while, I had been in some remote village and just recently got redeployed to Lagos, my hometown. Don’t even blame this Ibo girl for claiming Lagos as her hometown, after all it is the city of my birth. I had some crazy experiences during the two months I spent in rurality and it took a while to clear the fog it left on my mind. As time goes on, I will upload the chronicles I pencilled to keep myself from going crackers.

I saw the Clash of the Titans movie yesterday and I must say I loved every bit of it while the picture was in motion. It’s only normal that you have an opinion after an event has occurred. Having said this, the aftertaste didn’t leave me impressed once the movie was over. I remember watching the 1981 version on TNT classic movies years ago and I must say that Letterier’s effort paled in comparison, not in terms of the graphics but in his inability to (re)produce a storyline of equal strength.
I don’t know what you did last April Fools’ Day but I had Nkwobi for the first time in all my three and two decades of existence. I mean, I almost ate my fingers. Same day I also met a blogger for the first time since we started talking in the summer of 2008, and had technically and technologically become good friends from Blogville, to Facebook, to Yahoo messenger, to phone conversations, to BBM and then we finally met on April Fools day. The lady is simply a bundle of blessings. (I choose to ignore your reaction.)

I’m in the habit of influencing the people around me with my favourite music. Not like I do it intentionally, as a matter of fact I was told. It’s so bad that the other day, my mum was heard singing YQ’s I like girls. Inasmuch as I might have (mis)interpreted most of the music churned out by this generation as cacophony, I have found delightful melody in a chosen few. The stars of this post are no other than Ese Peters and Bez Idakula. Small wonder, they both play the guitar and sing so beautifully. Well, I do those too but the former’s limited to the walls of my bedroom and the latter, my bathroom and both activities could collide on the balcony. The only thing that’s stopping me from asking my Igwe grandfather to rewrite tradition in my favour and make it the woman’s place to seek a man’s hand in marriage is that in my case, I would be aiming for polyandry. You can get more info on Ese here on his Facebook link as well as his MySpace page here.

And finally, you can catch both Ese and Bez in Technicolor performing live at Taruwa.

I toyed with the idea of enhancing one of my favourite body parts. You guessed wrong. It was cutting my hair really short and putting red highlights in it. So i took a trip to the salon, and sat in the stylist’s chair. The dyeing procedure was to precede the cutting and we got started. And so he dyed it, blow dried it and straightened and flat tonged it. He kept combing my hair and I kept staring into the mirror admiring the silkiness, body and length of the hair and how well it had done since my last hair cut in September 2007. And then just when he reached for his scissors, I just shook my head, “Don’t!” I’m still a streaked redhead, nevertheless.

I just realised I have legs and I’m on a short dress frenzy. I must admit it took a while to get to this phase as I have only admired such on mannequins and warm blooded women alike but would never wear them without tights until my sister took to hiding the said tights from me. Err, for lack of a more apt quote, what does not kill you, would make you stronger right? She has long invested two sexy dresses in my wardrobe. Yours truly may also be spotted on the beach sporting a pair of shorts, and I mean SHORTS not Capri pants as I did in the past.

It’s almost that time of the year when Wanderlust torments us and this time, it seems the needle of the compass on my list of lifetime must-visits is swinging towards 51° 31’ 0 N, Longitude: 0° -6’ 0 E.

Roses are red, violets are blue. My hair is red and my toenails blue.

The clock just struck 12 (midnight) and I'm giving a birthday shout out to fellow blogger and friend, Funkola. May God bless you mightily and make your coming years more meaningful and fulfilling than the past.

Dialogues

2010-02-15T18:27:00.001+01:00

Close male friend: “Are you bothered that you don’t have a boyfriend?”

Me: “Honestly? Not really and that bothers my mum.”

Close male friend: “So remind me why you don’t have a boyfriend.”
...

Close male friend: “If I didn’t know you and I saw you, I wouldn’t approach you.”

Me: *Blank Stare* "Seriously?!"

Close male friend: "Yea, I’m serious."

Me: Why?

Close male friend: "You’re nice and friendly. See you’re a classy babe but you look like a snob. You give that look like ..." (Pauses.)

Me: "Tell me about it."

Close male friend: "Don’t get me wrong but you need to ... you need to ... whats the word now ... you need to be more open. You’re friendly and nice but you need to flex. Even back in school, you were cool and nice like that but you still didn’t let people get too close to you. You keep people at an arm’s length."

Me: "So how do we go about it?"

Close male friend: "Hmmm ... Tell you what ..."

Perfume personae: A personality review

2010-01-29T16:16:00.000+01:00

Although I haven’t been around long enough when it started in Egypt with esters and oils centuries ago, and I still wasn’t on the scene to witness the handing down of the trade secrets to Guerlain's Mitsouko (1925), Jean Patou’s Joy (1926), Marc Jacob’s Daisy or even Caron's Yatagan (1976), yet in my day I have come to love and appreciate fragrances particularly perfumes. I simply love fragrances and to me, there are only a few things in this world with deeper intimacy. With perfume, you could travel backward or forward in time, find or create personalities, and give you the opportunity of being an existing self, or a new one altogether. At different seasons, places and phases, I get different bottles and over the years I’ve had my share of flankers of Hugo Boss, Avon, Jean Paul Gaultier, Issey Miyake, Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren, JLo, Estee Lauder and Christian Dior.

This present season has united six bottles on my table which I use according to my mood or to create one. Scarlett Johansson’s lips, Vivica Fox’s face, Queen Latifah’s spunkiness, Dita Von Teese’s sass ... Plastic surgery aint got nothing on perfume!

Tiare Mimosa Acqua Allegoria by Guerlain

A dual personality in a bottle, Mimosa is gentle and confident which exudes sexiness in a most subtle way. Unassuming and composed, this simple lady has an eye for quality, style and has a certain presence about her that garners respect. Her favourite time of the day is evening, when she takes a walk and feels the gentle breeze caress her hair. She likes order and abhors noise. You’ll find this soulful soft-spoken lady at art exhibitions and galleries, poetry recitals like Taruwa listening to poetry, jazz and soulful ballads. Just when you turn your head wondering where she is, she whispers, “I never left.” Neither a weakling nor a trouble maker, she does have naughty motives and strategies to win her wars.
In a colour: Beige

Coco Mademoiselle by Chanel

My rapport with this mademoiselle is one filled with deep respects and as such not very often as I do not want to take her friendship for granted. It’s not like I don’t value the others, don't get me wrong but this lady, she’s a femme fatale. This female goes to black-tie events dressed in an LBD. She’s a fox on the red carpet.
In a colour: Purple

212 Sexy by Carolina Herrera

The boss. She won’t take no for an answer. She knows what she wants and works hard strategies to get it. She does not neglect her emotions and still communes with her inner child. One moment she’s sipping fine wine from foreign flutes, the next she’s working out on a treadmill. Full of ambition bridled with unparalleled zeal. You never met anyone like her. Neyo sang about her. He called her “Miss Independent.”
In a colour: Rouge

Live (Luxe) by Jennifer Lopez

The effervescent Sanguine: Agile, youthful and undeterred, living, loving and giving. Neither rain nor heartbreak could dowse her fire. Doing what she does best at every social function she attends, chatting to some cute lad. F-L-I-R-T alert! She’s the label freak – Choos, JBL, LDA, you name ‘em. She’s glamorous’ - I bet Fergie had her in mind. She’s the insomniac that never gets camera-shy. She’s loyal though, she loves her friends and family. Incurable romantic, this girl. She’s like the female version of Peter Pan.
In a colour: Yellow

Reserve by Perry Ellis

I’ll tell a little story right here. I didn’t pick this classic fougere, it was a gift. I had mixed feelings about this one, but allowed it to grow on me. One evening, I wore this for a walk and got quite a number of compliments and that has been the story ever since. Pure chemistry, it always works – the guys love it on me.
Reserve is fresh and clean and reminds you of a room window opened over a morning fresh dew-kissed garden. No fruits, no games, it’s a serious maturity with this one. Now the trip is that as time passes and the undertones are roused, Reserve switches from work to play mode – and gets all playful on you. Just when you start to take off your work overalls, there’s a new persona. She asks you to put Wande Coal on replay and delves into a bowl of Haagen Daz and Oreos. Child at heart.
In a person: Believer in Classical music, yoghurts, salads, no snacking between meals but indulges occasionally. Gets a regular pedicure but no artificial nails.
In a colour: Olive

Light Blue by Dolce & Gabbana

Has a semblance with Reserve but with a distinct personality. Similar because it is fresh and clean, distinct because its freshness is Ocean Fresh! This hydrophiliac loves to have summer flings and takes delight in sun-kissed tanned skin. Having a happy-go-lucky personality, she’s unafraid to flout convention and lives without regard to what convention dictates or what others expect.
In a colour: Aquamarine.

What are you loving? What are you wearing? Fragrance wise.

And the Martians muse ...

2009-10-27T19:46:00.001+01:00

Greetings Blogville,
Please permit me to introduce my blog-guest: Lawwyy. The entry below is one written by a young male friend, as he puts down his thoughts on what he imagines (or tries to) to be the musings of a young female a.k.a Venusian. Do enjoy the read and be sure to rate the write up in your comments, be you male or female. Here goes!

***************************************************************************************

"A man thanks God for not making him a woman and the woman simply thanks God for making her as she is" –Julia Neuberger

In Man is a continuous search of the why’s and how’s of everything around him, I love asking questions and getting the right answers is most rewarding. “What do women want?” is one question that comes readily along and it’s either a question that has never been answered or should never be answered neither does it get old. An interesting question I read off old heads facial expressions, I hear younger married or unmarried men repeat even little boys who perhaps cant express it in this rhetorical question. In fact Id say it’s a man’s favourite question spoken or not.

When I came about the question it more than satisfied something in me, it just kind of soothe the agonizing times you wondered why women never saw things your way, a way that seemed most rational or the times you couldn’t process their actions and the horrible times they just wont you let you have a straight answer. I love my mother and I grew up with a most beautiful sister but nothing on earth compares with the torture I go through when am not at peace with either of them and the bliss when we are on a same page. …so when a venusian turned martian threw the challenge at me I instantly thought NO! never, like a mindset I ve come to terms with myself consciously or unconsciously that I could never be able to reason like a woman would. Nevertheless I took on the challenge to see how much I could, so here goes…

Over the next paragraphs, I’m a 27 year old lady heading the Lagos branch of life gateway insurance. Below is thoughts in my mind over a 30 minute period.

When are we boarding this damn plane? Can’t wait to see Dad, its been what? 5 months? Pheew!!! I ve not missed Mum in a bit, to her its like marriage is I am made for (sigh). Oh great, that’s my flight, hope I get the good seat by the window, dang! who’s this bloke hmmm… is he looking here? all this men, they stare at you and size you up like they want to buy market, lets see what he is up to sha. Good just like I prayed for, a seat by the window and our bloke is walking here, God let him sit right by my side…oh well, he’s wearing a ring, like they say all the good ones are taken…and who the hell is this scruffy fugly guy cutting me eye?

I should be flying my own plane nonsense and don’t you dare sit here…oh jeez like he heard me, a courteous smile and hello in return that’s where it ends, scruffy guys just don’t do it for me. All this boys, guys or whatever they are called this days, they ve all the time in the world and they are never serious or should I say afraid.

I need a man, a real man, a grown man in all aspects am tired of baby sitting and those inadequate feelings or do I say I need a man like my father? Take Chidi for instance he says this and that, shows he cares and all but getting really serious is like some waterloo. Kenneth is just his mothers pet, mother said this mother said that…Femi is just a trust fund baby, I tell him daddy’s money cant make a man out of you. Chidi is somewhat promising but I don’t know jor, he is too broke to think of marrying soon. The least I trust of them is pastor Layi, he keeps toasting me and quoting scriptures but I somehow can see through him even apart from the hear says he seems a gold digger. I cant kill myself jare. I’m just going to have to wait and like they say good things come to those who wait but mehn time is going o, all my friends are getting married or are in a serious relationship even my younger cousin is getting married next month. I cant kill myself jare abi? I should take a quick nap its been one kin’ day like that and I hope this scruffy puppy respects himself.

So here’s my submission of thoughts in a young lady’s mind, thoughts anyone?

“The woman” a gateway of life, “a woman” an idea. You are man-Lawwyy.

In the News: Wanderlust and Photoblogging

2009-10-23T19:18:00.000+01:00

Trying my hands at new things and finding new passions, I have started a photo blog howbeit with my amateur skills and an equally amateur camera. Seems like fun so far, and I think it's a good way to keep an e-photo album. Who knows where this would/could take us? But right now, it's all for the fun while I'm on vacation.

Here's the link: http://amoge.shutterchance.com/
Do leave a comment please.

Yours Truly,
Miss Balance.

p.s. Would be back with updates.

Lightupnigeria and Independence Day

2009-10-01T18:33:00.001+01:00

01/10/2009 02:25:49

“The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us that government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” - Abraham Lincoln (1809 - 1865)

Yesterday I was at the #lightupnigeria event which took place at TerraKulture, Victoria Island, Lagos. For any Nigerian on twitter who has at least seven* tweets, this simple combination of three words with a hash prefix has transformed from a simple twitter trend to a vein carrying movement with roots in the Nigerian youth. Lightupnigeria is a movement advocating better power supply in Nigeria. It started on the 14th of July 2009 and targets this advocacy at all stakeholders in the power sector using mass media in its varied forms. It believes that a structured, moderated national dialogue can go a long way to make the issue a thing of the past. It believes it can bring that critical mass together using social networks, both offline and online.

To this coin as with every other, there are two sides. We, being the universality of citizens speaking the same tongue, say we want development in every sense of the word. When we say or tweet these words, we show our frustration and impatience at the stagnancy of the state of things; erratic power supply, sporadic educational system at every level from primary to tertiary, and poor living conditions in general. We say we have had about enough of substandard living. We are not necessarily asking for Utopia, we just want to be heard and have our basic needs attended to. On the other side of the coin, we mean that even against all hope, we still would keep believing. In the words of Thomas Paine, “We fight not to enslave, but to set a country free, and to make room upon the earth for honest men to live in.” Even though we may seem lost today, angry and deprived at the “good ol’days” of yesterday, we must keep hope alive. There will come a tomorrow, our own tomorrow that has taken so long to arrive but would finally be ours. However, we will and must do more than waiting or wishing and put our minds, hearts and hands to work today, bruising them if we may, so that descendants would live the substantial Nigerian dream which we would have built.

As the future Nigeria launched its fifth season yesterday, the lightupnigeria team was well seated in the agenda, represented by likeminded and fun loving twitter users. In my opinion, it was a great collaboration and of course I tweeted the thought. I must say I was impressed with the turn out of tweeps (twitter users) at the event; Impressed because my expectation was not dampened. I expected that my Naija people would as usual, identify a loophole, come up with creative solutions and of course have fun while at it. Cheers to everyone that made it there spirit, soul and body or at least one of the three, tweeting, supporting and retweeting from every #lightupnigeria location in the universe. May #GodBlessNigeria.

Once again, it is that time of the year when we turn the working day into a public holiday as the age counter increments. Our Nigeria is 49 today and it’s expected that we are either lambasting our political leaders or celebrating our success stories and achievements on personal and national levels. Whatever sides we take, we must realise that we all have roles to play as leaders and followers in turning dreams to reality. I’ve asked myself, “What have I done for my country?” Are you asking the same question too? “What can I do for my country?” I will continue to #lightupnigeria in tweets and deeds, and be an active contributor to this change we so often hear about until it becomes physical to me.
“Let our object be our country, our whole country, and nothing but our country.” - Daniel Webster (1782 - 1852).
Keep the #Lightupnigeria flame burning. Happy Independence Nigeria!

Miss Balance.

For more details, please visit the lightupnigeria site.
* Why I chose seven? After the first introductory rants about “What is this twitter about?” you would then update with a totally random status just to monitor the mechanism, and by the seventh you would have returned from your tweet-hiatus feeling more familiar with the #lightupnigeria trend and looking forward to your 100th tweet.

01/10/2009 12:41:28

Two years in mind; Paul 'Sax' Obayomi.

2009-09-09T10:57:00.001+01:00

I don't exactly have a poetic piece to put up, not because I can't but I just want to write something straight from my heart, unhindered by the need to be lyrical and 'affectatious'.

It's been two years since my friend passed. He was the true definition of a friend, friendship personified. He always encouraged, inspired and at the same time made you laugh. A confidante, brother, he knew a lot about everything. You could talk to him about careers, music (he played the saxophone), family troubles, academics, faith ... A grounded all rounder.

Maybe I'll continue writing this later ... because it hurts right now.

'Brides' Groom!

2009-08-28T18:53:00.000+01:00

“There are only three things to be done with a woman. You can love her, you can suffer for her, or you can turn her into literature” - Lawrence Durrell (1912 - 1990)

What’s the one difference between guys and girls, or men and women if you like? It’s all in a bath! Guys, we know use one all-purpose, multi-functional bar soap only per bath time. Well, if at all things have changed with the millennium bug or 21st century, there just might be two specialised soaps. We women, on the other hand use a minimum of three ‘washes’ in the space of a bath. The (very) average woman uses three cleansing agents per bath. Personally speaking, I out of a very modest lifestyle switch between four and five especially because some soaps cannot be compromised. Modus operandi follows below. DIY!

It begins with the hair. Sometimes we decide to treat our hair ‘in-house’, probably after taking out hair extensions yourself. So, we begin with (1) Shampoo which is accompanied by (2) Conditioner. The procedure moves on to (3) Facial scrub and then to (4) Body wash which could be either bath gel, cream bar or bar soap. It might (or not) interest you to know that steps (3) and (4) are not ‘marriable.’ It’s been drummed into our ears for a while now, that bar soap is a facial no-no. Then there’s (5) a ‘private’ wash for the ‘sacral region.’ This one’s not an old wives’ tale; it’s against medical advice to intermarry steps (4) and (5). We clean our feet with (6) Pedi-wash or a similar whatchamacallit, (that’s what I call it) because we don’t want to use our body sponge on our feet. The flowchart terminates with water to level them all. *Insert song by Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, “Water e no get enemy.”

It’s a loop which reiterates day and night with slight differences or additions and is also similar to the flowcharts for both body drying and applying body-lotions. I’m sure there are tens of steps I don’t even know but I can only preach what I practise. Talk about WOMEN’S GROOMING! Do grooms groom like this? We women also have the privilege and exclusive rights to use natural honey as hair conditioners, cucumbers as astringents; you know nature at our beck and call. What? Oh no, I don’t envy the guys one bit and no, Beyonce, I won’t do an “If I were a boy” duet with you. It was Simone de Beauvoir, the grandmother of feminism who said, “To be a woman, if not a defect, is at least a peculiarity,” and there’s a truth and a half in the twisted statement. If I could remove the stigma from the word, I would, but until that day I will accept the label gladly, and everything that comes with this form given me by nature: faults and flaws, vagaries and achievements. I sure love this ‘simple’ life of being a woman. I raise my glass to womenfolk. Cheers!

“It would be futile to attempt to fit women into a masculine pattern of attitudes, skills, and abilities and disastrous to force them to suppress their specifically female characteristics...by keeping up the pretense that there are no differences between the sexes.” - Arianna Huffington.

Written right after a bath and still in my towel! 28/08/2009 13:15:51

An Inconvenient Truth

2009-08-26T20:31:00.000+01:00

“No pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage-ground of truth...and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below.” - "Of Truth” by Francis Bacon (1561 - 1626).

If truth be told, she’s dealing with this thing called truth. Maybe it has a moniker known as Reality. The more you know of a truth, the less you realise you really know or the more you realise you really don’t know. The more she examines the truths of marriage, she realises she really might not want it. Does it even help that she’s not ‘seeing’ any guy at the moment – maybe he would have convinced her otherwise if she saw/gave him benefits of the doubt.

Lately and ever since, she has been surrounded with too many case studies and examples. An uncle of hers got married barely six years ago. Wife goes over to her in-laws to take refuge. Even in her pregnant state. The other day, she had visible teeth marks on her arm. Not love bites but fury bites cum tattoos. The guy beats her to a pulp every other day. She is not even 30 yet, got three kids and this aggressive behaviour is already taking its toll on the toddlers. They won’t stop hitting each other. Heart wrenching. She won’t even bother talking about her own father because he holds the sceptre. He doesn’t get physical but his words are almost palpable enough to break bones. Her brothers, howbeit unmarried are hardly doing differently, even though she can’t fault her mother’s upbringing. She sees traces of hard work in them, as well as traits of violence. Heck, even she like the rest of her sisters has been a victim of their wrath. They have been slapped and hit with objects and words on like two occasions.
She’s not proud of this trait displayed by the men in her family, from her dad to uncles, brothers and cousins. Hard working, yes but they all got visible streaks of violence. She’s reoriented herself reading books and attending seminars but her fear is simple: she can’t vouch for anyone else. She’s barely curious to see for herself if all men are the same, her interest’s waning and she knows it. She’s losing grasp of theories because being too much of a pragmatist, realism sets in. Even her mum is afraid to admit to what she sees in the girl’s eyes when she talks. She hardly talks. Maybe she should stop thinking and just believe. You know, just swallow and not chew.

Looking from several vantage points and considering a myriad of reasons including Tribe, her own family, people and tribe push her to activism and active tribalism. What could be more paradoxical? But it is in fact, true. It’s going to take God and a series of good examples that she can see for herself to change her mind. Now she wonders about this Balance thing. To her there’s nothing more fulfilling than living a balanced life: spirit, soul and body & career, home and faith in the right proportions. It’s something she’s dreamt of and always wanted, and has lived with the idea for as long as she can remember. ‘The Idea.’ She’s wondering if there’s more to Balance than being an idea. How is she to be a balanced life enthusiast when even she is yet to buy the idea? Why does she have Ms. Winfrey for a role model and her ‘lopsided’ life makes so much sense to her?

She's hit rock bottom and is at her wits’ end; knowledge and emotion wise. She's never needed God’s counsel more, not because she's not scarred. She's scared.

Steve Madden and a myriad of arbitrary events

2009-07-09T00:50:00.000+01:00

Trying to recover from this blogging hiatus, even as I tender my apologies. Life's been happening to me and I've got my plate full trying to figure out what direction to head out. Life after Uni has been a blend of naivete and boredom with a splash of curiousity equalling genuine novice. Meanwhile, here's an abridged version of the order and series of events that have I have featured in:

Random:

Girls day out (Sistahz Inc)

French Classes at Alliance Francaise

Applications for postgraduate study

Dental troubles

Women Empowerment articles and books

Cinema trips: “The Proposal”

Get candid opinion from friends

Beach trips with family

Unrehearsed:

Mum questions my relationship status!
Ran into a guy I blogged about.
Rain! Rain! Rain!
First (and LAST!!!) Moluwe ride experience
Got a call from a publisher.
Michael Jackson passed on.

Plans in progress:

Attend Taruwa
Attend Book Reading event
Meet Chimamanda Adichie
Register for Women in Engineering conference
Meet with best friend from high school
NYSC!
Driving school
Relocate
Stay informed on Telecommunications industry
Read biographies
Complete first chapter of the book
Be on "Don't forget the lyrics Nigeria!"

LOL! This the state of my 'Steve Maddens.' Classic! Will be back with details.

p.s Those Red Devils however are not Steve Maddens but Christian Louboutins!

Time and Chance

2009-06-15T19:46:00.000+01:00

Nokia Note: 11:29, Mon 15.06.2009

Flashback: 15th June 2004. Woke up early in a manic rush to get my hands on the day's dailies. The Guardian, to be precise. It was a day to my 18th birthday and the list of succesful candidates of the Covenant University Scholastic Aptitude Test (CUSAT) was to be published on the same day. At the sound of the vendor's horn, I practically flew out to the road and grabbed a copy. With my heart at the tip of my tongue, I searched the pages frantically for my name. Saw my sister's but not mine. My older sister came to take a look while my eyes were still roaming the sheets. And then she shouted in her usual celebration mode tone, "BAYBAY! CONGRATULATIONS!" My sister Steph and I made the list. A cousin who was visiting immediately told us to hop into his ride and off we went to get a cake!

Exactly five years today it's 15th june 2009, the eve of my twenty third birthday and convocation is in four days. My oldest and most loyal Uni friend Ladun, just called to lament about her departmental dress dress having not arrived and she's the MC at tonight's event. I ask a few questions, give some solutions and ask more questions, and she goes, "Graduation list is out. Of course it's 2-1!"

Magna cum laude! I rush off to tell Mom. She gets on her knees, blessing God. And then she turns towards me, and begins blessing me ...

Time and Chance, I must say have been kind to me. These twin siblings have been my friends. I have not been swift or strong, neither can I boast of being wise or skillful of my own accord. Yet God has enabled me to win my races and battles.
He has stocked my storehouses with supplies of bread and riches.
He has robed and perfumed me with royalty and favour.
He has seen me from Start to Finish: Alpha to Omega without neglecting the betas, deltas and thetas.
He has always been and will always be there, full of faith in me and faithful to me.
Thank you Lord for everything including time and chance. To You be all the glory in Jesus' name.

Musings of a Venusian turned Martian

2009-05-16T07:33:00.000+01:00

“How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man?”

The time of the psychological passing over from boyhood to manhood is a movable feast. The legal date fixed on the twenty-first birthday has little or no connection with it. There are men in their teens, and there are boys in their forties. Howbeit, I choose to connect with that part of the psychological timeline when this ‘ASL: 2x/M/earth’ where 9 <> 0 meant you were at a crossroad between adulthood and adolescence and you were in the prime of life. You’d gone past it, you wished you could rewind. You were not yet there, you wondered if it was you or the globe had stopped spinning. Either way, you’re wistful or wishful. And if you were there, you knew you were in the prime of life where your will reigned and everything you did henceforth had consequences. You couldn't be more careful and at the same time more carefree. It was the phase of personalizing spaces and taking up the mantra, “the world is mine” because you could do almost anything, be almost anybody, go almost anywhere and your view of life was a kaleidoscopic combination of credulity, bravado, optimism.

Over the next paragraphs, I’m a 26 year old guy heading the Lagos branch of Zulu Corp. Below is an excerpt from my journal.

Had a crazy day at work today. Was eventually able to beat the submission deadlines and we finally sealed the deal with the Matrix Corp. Omo, thank God it’s Friday and am I looking forward to a great weekend in KD with my guys. Hurried home, got my bags packed and boarded the last flight to Kaduna. Engaged some pretty chick in a conversation and eventually exchanged numbers. Just as we touched base, my old woman called. Chatted a bit and reminded me that I wasn’t getting any younger. Mumsy just has her way of getting her message across to me. Got me thinking seriously, guys do need to settle down. There’s more to life than Lewin cufflinks, Ludacris’ lyrics and lap dances. I got my whole life ahead of me. True but hey, I got time. Besides, ‘Lamide and I just broke up so I’m back in the market.

Twenty minutes later, I’m at Kola’s while we have a chat and wait for Tayo and Jimi to show up. You could imagine the uproar when they finally arrived. Kola led the way to xyz and we had a few drinks while we caught up on old times, and talked about present events. Dreams and decisions, flings and fiancées, aspirations and reminiscences…

At this point, I think this Venusian has suffered enough trying to imagine life on other planets. I gladly hand the baton to a real Martian…!

Okay, here's the thing. I have been given the Herculean task of imagining what I imagine is a day in the life of a young man (in his twenties) and putting my imagination in print. Task given me by a young man (in his twenties) which he read and rated. Would share the result rating with you but please read and give your own ratings.

Achievements, hurdles and AHA moments!

2009-02-25T16:01:00.000+01:00

Today I had a class - one of those courses on Leadership and the topic of discussion was "Views on Success." It was an interactive one with the school's Vice Chancellor as the facilitator so to speak and she randomly picked four people to narrate their experiences on achievements, hurdles and AHA moments. Yours Truly was the second of the four and I told briefly about my AHA moment.
The next and third person was a guy studying Building Technology who said his came sometime in freshman year. He did a lot of writing but never thought much of them and so dumped them 'in his closet'. A day came when he took his diary of writings to lectures to take notes in it, a girl saw the diary, read his pieces (with his consent), gave him links and encouraged him to enter for an on-going writing competition at the time. He went ahead and eventually won first prize. His AHA moment came, kept writing and hasn't looked back since then. And the girl was ... Guess who ...

ME!

He actually did mention my name (in full) and the Vice Chancellor asked me to stand again for recognition and an ovation followed. I was almost flushed but deeply humbled. And then she gave me the mandate to start a writers' club in school. Compliments haven't ceased flowing since then.
Wow! I certainly won't forget this day in a hurry!

Random 25!

2009-02-25T15:06:00.001+01:00

1. I've had my share of ambitions. At some point, I felt so sure I was going to be a music producer. Was (and I still am) very much into instrumentals/ beats.

2. I don't use sugar in anything (cereal, tea...)

3. Last album I bought was Frank Sinatra's (this month).

4. The next instrument I'll learn to play is THE TALKING DRUM!

5. I've only had 3 female artists CDs (Asa, Solange, TY Bello) in my album lineage. Male crooners rock!

6. I keep a weblog (duh!) and a journal.

7. Three awards I've won: Humorous, Spiritual, Charismatic.

8. I love Nokia phones. I use every feature on my phone from notes, reminders, alarms, radio...

9. I think Tyson Beckford is Too HOT to be human!

10. I buy tons of magazines!!! O, TELL, True Love, TIME... I buy ThisDay on Sundays PRIMARILY for the mag content.

11. I love little notes and I keep people's notes. When I leave notes, I indicate the date, exact time and sometimes place.

12. When I like a song, I put the track on repeat and listen to it a minimum of 50 times usually at a stretch.

13. I 'google' almost everything and everybody.

14. I am dependent on sticky notes, notepads, mobile phone notes.

15. First thing I do when I get home from anywhere is to wash my hands.

16. I always misplace one earring (Thanx Ladun) so I try to buy two pairs of the same kind when I can.

17. I cry when I laugh.

18. I am a budding collector of maps, Jazz music and perfumes.

19. My choice sleepwear is a pair of boxers and a tee. lol!

20. I hate cold drinks, love cold places, love hot cakes, can't handle pepper. I hate the smell of new magazines, the feel of new bathroom slippers and being in a vehicle for more than 20 mins.

21. At the end of a year, I clean out all text messages and call logs.

22. I've kept every card (birthday, Christmas ...) I've ever received since I was 13 and I don't forget people's birthdays.

23. Haven't used the word 'promise' in 8 years.

24. Sometimes I use a pencil as a hair accessory.

25. I sing in the shower.

Sunscreen

2009-02-23T03:14:00.000+01:00

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’97
Wear Sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future,
sunscreen would be it.
The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists,
whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience
I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth, oh nevermind,
you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself
and recall in a way you can’t grasp now, how much possibility lay before you
and how fabulous you really looked,
you are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future, or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you

Sing

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts,
don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss

Don’t waste your time on jealousy, sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind,
the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults,
if you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life,
the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22
what they wanted to do with their lives,
some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t,
Maybe you’ll divorce at 40,
Maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary
What ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either
Your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body, use it every way you can, don’t be afraid of it,
or what other people think of it, it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Brother and sister together we'll make it through
Someday a spirit will take you and guide you there
I know you've been hurtin, but I've been waitin' to be there for you
And I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good.

Be nice to your siblings, they are the best link to your past
and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on.
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get,
the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard,
Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will philander,
you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young
prices were reasonable, politicians were noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund,
Maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it.
Advice is a form of nostalgia,
dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off,
painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen

Brother and sister together we'll make it through
Someday a spirit will take you and guide you there
I know you've been hurtin, but I've been waitin' to be there for you
And I'll be there just helping you out whenever I can
Everybody's free oh yeah

Heard this song by over the radio a few months back. The lyrics struck me deeply and I put the few lines I could grasp in a notepad. Heard it again on a friend's laptop and discovered it was called Sunscreen by Baz Luhrmann.

I love the lyrics and decided to make a post out of it!

Kaleidoscope

2009-01-22T22:16:00.000+01:00

Wow! This 22 day old year has been quite eventful for this 22 year old. Holidays ended rather abruptly with resumption which was on the 3rd of this month, and exams followed almost immediately. Well, I must say I'm liking this year 2009 already. It represents a lot of things to me, both spiritually and every wise. Just as I would sit on the last days of a year and look back in retrospect, I feel very strongly and have chosen to see the prospects 2009 has.
If I could compress my mantra for the year into a word/ verb, it would be

“Be.”

I have not felt so strongly about a year or a time as I feel about this year. I know for sure that 2009 is (going to be) a landmark, a milestone in my life and phases. It is the year I graduate from Uni (after half a decade of engineering education.) Plus it is my fifth year of walking with God. It is the year of total independence (aka Adulthood) where every decision I do/don't make counts or counters ... career choices, social networks, relationships, investments.
Keyword: Investment. Everything one action or inaction will be an investment for another time. I have learnt that nature abhors vacuum. Thus, inaction ultimately equates to action.

This year, I've got so much time on my hands and at the same time, there's No Time! This year will bridge my dreams with real achievements (by God's grace). It’s an invitation to pursue something higher and better than I have had before, and to gain a sense of meaning and significance for my life. Never have I needed God more than I do now and henceforth.

This year will see the start of my totality. My hidden self (or alter ego) teaming with my present self to birth latent potentials, live out passions and to fulfill destiny ... Just being total, totally me. Miss Balance. At this point, I wonder what Growing up really means. Is it about evolving into someone you've never been before or simply finding and giving life to the person that's been bottled up inside?

I am presently undergoing an experience I'll like to call 'My Sensuous Awakening.' It began with the olfactories. Started out as a habit, a hobby and now it's a full blown obsession for perfumes (not just about owning them, but knowing and identifying scent families, notes and more.) More interesting is the fact that the rest of my senses are not left out of this era. I have a developed a relish for Wine just as I have rekindled an old passion for classical music by delving into Contemporary Classical. Enya wears the crown, but Yanni is a pure taste of orchestra heaven. Beyond this sensuous arousal is a Spiritual awakening as well, rooted in seeking the Lord (God bless Bishop David Oyedepo.) ‘Tis a truly remarkable degree of self-discovery heightened over a space of 22 days. 2009: I realise my life has only just begun. Really!

Happy New Year!!!

2009-01-10T09:45:00.000+01:00

Happy New Year BlogVille!
Work kicks off in earnest... Will be back. God bless us.

BrownSugar.

My Favourite Things a.k.a Christmas wish List (Part 1)

2008-12-08T22:04:00.000+01:00

Calling all Santa's helpers and humanitarians, here's an abridged version of my wishlist:

1. Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama (autographed copy would be a plus)
2. A dress from House of Dereon
3. An iPod touch (pls don't ask about the other one)
4. Delicious Night fragrance from DKNY
5. A box of Godiva
6. A Sony digital camera (let's start from 10MegaPixels)
7. These cuties from Baby Phat
8. Those "pieces of art" from Christian Louboutin

...Why don't you start working on this very modest list while I work on the updated version? Fundraisers might be helpful but I'm sure its unnecessary for people of your calibre. And don't worry if you don't meet the Christmas deadline, late entries would be totally pardoned.

Yours Gleefully,
Brown Sugar.

The Dream

2008-11-05T23:42:00.000+01:00

"I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves, who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity. But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacle of segregation and the chains of discrimination.

One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languish in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land So we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we've come to our Nation's Capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.

This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."

But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism.

Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy.

Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice.

Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.

Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end but a beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual.

There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.

Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality.

We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities.

We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one.

We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "for white only."

We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote.

No, no we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of your trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecutions and staggered by the winds of police brutality.

You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow. I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up... live out the true meaning of its creed. We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will they be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right down in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plains and the crooked places will be made straight and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope.

With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.

With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day, this will be the day when all of God's children be able to sing with new meaning "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!"

And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.

Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.

Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.

Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.

But not only that, let freedom, ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.

Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tenneessee.

Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi, from every mountainside.

Let freedom ring,

And when this happens,and when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old negro spiritual, "Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, we are free at last."

"I Have a Dream" Speech
Aug. 28, 1963

This goes out to every Black hero in history: Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jnr., Richard Allen, Hank Aaron, Langston Hughes, Harriet Tubman, George Washington Carver, Sojourner Truth, Jesse Owens
and every activist and civil rights movements leader.

Barrack Obama is the dream.

Poetically Sugary

2008-10-27T03:45:00.000+01:00

To:
Brown Sugar

B reathe your magic
R uffle my heart
O pen my mind
W hisper in my ear
N ext to my heart

S how me a path
U nknown till now
G ive me a new life
A llow me a taste of
R eal Brown Sugar…

From:
Poetically tinted

Now ain't this poetically sugary? Thanx a lot Lady.

Retro, Pro and postcards

2008-09-17T19:31:00.000+01:00

In the last twenty four hours, I have

Been under the knife (surgery ... no, not cosmetic), and as a result
Adhered to medical advice, lazed the day away and didn't step out of my house, and as a result
Sorted my thoughts, my laundry and
Blogtrotted and
Completed a season of HOUSE (the coolest TV series and medical drama EVER)
Misplaced Biola's 'iPhone savings': $300 (ah! it must show up o)

Okay! Months of internship have finally come to an end and I give God all the glory. I've had a crazy blend of opportunities, growing pains, fun, tests, lessons, trips, favour, salaries, technologies (a new phone and an iPod Touch ;) and an unending list of events. I've acquired new values, entered new friendships, accepted new challenges, achieved new levels ... found new music. This period also hosted my most active blogging sessions with Blogville Idols as the highlight. Thankfully I was never caught blogging and blogtrotting at work and contrarily received some laudable recommendations at the end of my term ;) Was a great experience that has left me different (even I noticed it when I found out that I had added TELL magazine to my weekly subscriptions.) And with this, I'm ready and heading for my life's next scene:

500 Level a.k.a Final year!

Looking back with satisfaction, upward with gratitude and forward with faith. In summary, this means that my not-so-frequent blogging habit is expected to deteriorate drastically over the next ten months. This is the part where Brown "Miss Balance" Sugar takes a bow. Will send postcards from Academia!

xxx
Brown Sugar.

Sibling rivalry!

2008-09-12T19:02:00.000+01:00

broth·er [brúthər]

noun
male sibling: a boy or man who has the same father and mother as another person.

Being a female in the engineering department/sector means a lot of things to me. For the sake of this post, I’ll limit it to just the fact that it means brothers and brovaz are plain homonyms and at the same time, antonyms. My mother gave birth to you makes you my brother and I've three of those. On the other hand, I go to school with an army of these martians :). So being my brova means we've moved from coursemates to acquaintances to friends and then you went the EXTRA mile to be brova-certified: tested and trusted, thereby knowingly skipping a very sensitive tier called "lovers." i.e. Plus, my biological mum now knows you because you visit my house and I can't exclude your name from my regular conversations.

Now having five brovaz means:

Being a footie 'freak' as I may soon be dedicating a section of my wardrobe to footie jerseys of different clubs and colours, numbers and names like, “Tobi”, “Ugo”, “Uche”, “Kene”. Hold that thought! I'm not a tomboy, never have been and never will be. Why would I want to do that to my gbono feli life as a lady in the 21st century? And no, I still haven't picked MY club yet.
My days of roasting on Valz day are OVER. At least, unofficially. I get my share out of theirs plus they go out of their way to val me :) Does it matter that I don't have a boyfriend at the moment? By the way my brovaz keep threatening to screen all my chykers. Newaiz, I have a major say in their relationships too so there's a lot of fairness.
Girlfriends and aspirants (are advised to) hook up with me for the extras. Does the movie Brown Sugar with Taye Diggs and Sanaa Lathan ring a bell? Don't get the wrong idea, people. lol!

Right now I have a lot on my plate since I met a bosom friend of my brovaz. They attended the same secondary school, were members of a clique and their parents knew each other. Uni came and some of them parted ways, went to other countries and a handful met again in the same Uni that I attend. He goes to a different Uni but still stays in close contact with the rest of the group. As a matter of fact, I knew of him because my brovaz talked about him a lot. He's like my brovaz' brova. So we all spent some time together hanging out. Eventually he and I got talking and he commented that he loved the relationship I had with my brovaz i.e. his friends and he eventually told me he wanted friends ... and had no plans to become or end up as a brova. No skipping of sensitive tiers this time. lol! Guess what:

MY BROVAZ ARE TOTALLY AGAINST ANYTHING BETWEEN US!

It's no longer news that Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, as told us by John Gray and this Venusian is almost beside herself trying to figure out why, despite the fact that I have my opinions about him, these friends won't let me hook up with their friend or vice versa. One would have even thought they'd be ecstatic about it. I asked one of them and the only part of his reply that made sense to me was a SMILE! I've come to trust these guys over time and I value their judgment. And by the way I would hate anything or person to come between us.

What do you think? What would you do?

Awarded!

2008-09-09T01:51:00.000+01:00

Wow! I just received an honorary Blogville award from Funkola!
If there's any award I've dreamt of receiving, it's the "Use your life" award. So for one moment, I'm going to close my eyes and imagine (or more like dream) that I'm a receipient of the prestigious award. lol! Okay, so I'm passing the baton to:

Rules:
I don't know what the rules apart from having to spread the love to at least 7 other bloggers (have to put up a post and show off the award). I'm creating the rule of receiving your favourite award. CONGRATULATIONS Bloggers!!!

Interview with Brown Sugar!

2008-08-25T11:45:00.000+01:00

I got this from Tosyn SPEECHgirl Bucknor's blog. Thought it was tres cool and decided to "photocopy".

1.What time did you get up this morning?

6: 15 a.m.

2. Diamonds or pearls?

A girl's best friend -Diamonds.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?

Been a while since I was there- Mad money

4. What is your favorite TV show?

Oprah!!!!

5. What did you have for breakfast?

Cereal: Cornflakes

6. What is your middle name?

Amoge (I didn't say Omoge o!)

7. What is your favorite cuisine/meal?

Salads (when I'm thinking).

8.What foods do you dislike?

Ogbono soup (not even Mama's homemade)

9. Speechgirl didn't have a question 9!

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?

Been doing a lot of singles lately, haven't picked up any albums in a while.

-Naija sturvs sha.

11. What kind of car do you drive?

Just gimme a while. I'll get there soon.

12. Favorite sandwich?

Ham

13. What characteristics do you despise?

In what or who? Absence of confidence in a guy, among others like dishonesty.

14. Favorite item of clothing?

Dresses n gowns

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go?

From the top of the page/list: Atlanta, Malibu, ...

16. What color is your bathroom?

White

17. Favorite brand of clothing?

Zara

18. Where would you want to retire?

Naija

19. Favorite time of day?

Wee hours

20. Where were you born?

St. Anne's hospital, Lagos.

21. Favorite sport(s) to watch?

I just liked to watch fresh basketballers like Kobe, Shaq, Garnett ... I Love This Game! But thanx to my bullying kid brova, i now do soccer.

22. Who do you least expect to respond to this?

Dammy

23. Person you expect to respond first?

Jolaade?

24. What laundry scent do you use?

What scents are Ariel and B29?

25. Coke or Pepsi?

Neither, fruit juice please.

26. Are you a morning person or night owl?

Nocturnal. lol!

27. What size shoe do you wear?

US 9 - 9 1/2

28. Do you have pets?

2 rottweilers (in Abuja), 3 German shepherds (in Enugu), 1 monkey called "Fine Boy". Seriously. Lost 2 white fluffy (keep forgetting the breed) dogs (in Lagos)

29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone?

Every time I try to spend my money, someone shows up and pays!

30. What did you want to be when you were little?

A journalist and I had my own magazine and book club in Primary 4. Oh well, I'm on the road to becoming an engineer now!

31.Favorite Candy Bar?

Twix and Malteasers

32. What is your best childhood memory?

Converting 20 leaves apex mill exercise books into magazines and story books

33. What are the different jobs you have had in your life?

writer, graphics designer

35.Nicknames:

Omoge, Moe, Sugar ... my aunt used to call me "Madam Sebuka" (Taiwo Ajayi-Lycett's character, i think)

36. Piercings?

Ears.

37. Eye color?

Brown.

38a) Ever been to Africa?

NEXT!!!

38b) Ever been to South Australia?

Not yet, but Oprah said the law of attraction ...

39. Ever been toilet papering or rolling?

Don't geddit.

40. Love someone so much it made you cry?

Wow dat's deep. No. I guess I haven't found true love yet!

41. Been in a car accident?

No, gratefully.

42. Croutons or bacon bits?

Bacon

43.Favorite day of the week?

Saturdays: 'Me' finally comes alive.

44. Favorite restaurant?

Home or Barcelos (like the pizza)

45. Favorite flower?

White roses!!! Got them from my prom date!!!

46. Favorite ice cream?

Tiramisu

47. How many times did you fail your driver's test?

Yet to be taken

48. What color is your bedroom carpet?

Brown.

49. How many times did you fail your driver's test?

See #47

50. Before this one, from whom did you get your last email?

Ladun

51. Which stores would you choose to max out your credit card?

Zara.

52. What do you do most often when you are bored?

Write, facebook ... NEVER use my phone.

53. Bedtime?

3: 15 a. m.

54. Who are you most curious about their responses to this questionnaire?

Maybe Temi cuz it'll definitely be hilarious.

55. Last person you went to dinner with?

It was a group!

56. What are you listening to right now?

Screaming boss' phone conversation

57. What is your favorite color?

Brown

58. Lake, Ocean or river?

Can't know what I haven't experienced, can I?

59. How many tattoos do you have?

Zero

60. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

The chicken.

The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination

2008-08-25T02:39:00.002+01:00

Just found this thought-provoking piece of inspiration on Funmi Iyanda's blog and had no option but to save myelf a copy, not intending to blog but so that I could go over it as many times as possible as she suggested.

The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and the Importance of Imagination
J.K. Rowling, author of the best-selling Harry Potter book series,
delivers her Commencement Address, "The Fringe Benefits of Failure, and
the Importance of Imagination," at the Annual Meeting of the Harvard
Alumni Association.

President Faust, members of the Harvard Corporation and the Board of
Overseers, members of the faculty, proud parents, and, above all, graduates.

The first thing I would like to say is 'thank you.' Not only has Harvard given me an extraordinary honour, but the weeks of fear and nausea I've experienced at the thought of giving this commencement address have made me lose weight. A win-win situation! Now all I have to do is take deep breaths, squint at the red banners and fool myself into believing I am at the world's best-educated Harry Potter convention.

Delivering a commencement address is a great responsibility; or so I thought until I cast my mind back to my own graduation. The commencement speaker that day was the distinguished British philosopher Baroness Mary Warnock. Reflecting on her speech has helped me enormously in writing this one, because it turns out that I can't remember a single word she said. This liberating discovery enables me to proceed without any fear that I might inadvertently influence you to abandon promising careers in business, law or politics for the giddy delights of becoming a gay wizard.

You see? If all you remember in years to come is the 'gay wizard' joke, I've still come out ahead of Baroness Mary Warnock. Achievable goals: the first step towards personal improvement.

Actually, I have wracked my mind and heart for what I ought to say to you today. I have asked myself what I wish I had known at my own graduation, and what important lessons I have learned in the 21 years that has expired between that day and this.

I have come up with two answers. On this wonderful day when we are gathered together to celebrate your academic success, I have decided to talk to you about the benefits of failure. And as you stand on the threshold of what is sometimes called 'real life', I want to extol the crucial importance of imagination.

These might seem quixotic or paradoxical choices, but please bear with me.

Looking back at the 21-year-old that I was at graduation, is a slightly uncomfortable experience for the 42-year-old that she has become. Half my lifetime ago, I was striking an uneasy balance between the ambition I had for myself, and what those closest to me expected of me.
I was convinced that the only thing I wanted to do, ever, was to write novels. However, my parents, both of whom came from impoverished backgrounds and neither of whom had been to college, took the view that my overactive imagination was an amusing personal quirk that could never pay a mortgage, or secure a pension. They had hoped that I would take a vocational degree; I wanted to study English Literature. A compromise was reached that in retrospect satisfied nobody, and I went up to study Modern Languages. Hardly had my parents' car rounded the corner at the end of the road than I ditched German and scuttled off down the Classics corridor.

I cannot remember telling my parents that I was studying Classics; they might well have found out for the first time on graduation day. Of all subjects on this planet, I think they would have been hard put to name one less useful than Greek mythology when it came to securing the keys to an executive bathroom.

I would like to make it clear, in parenthesis, that I do not blame my parents for their point of view. There is an expiry date on blaming your parents for steering you in the wrong direction; the moment you are old enough to take the wheel, responsibility lies with you. What is more, I cannot criticise my parents for hoping that I would never experience poverty. They had been poor themselves, and I have since been poor, and I quite agree with them that it is not an ennobling experience. Poverty entails fear, and stress, and sometimes depression; it means a thousand petty humiliations and hardships. Climbing out of poverty by your own efforts, that is indeed something on which to pride yourself, but poverty itself is romanticised only by fools.

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

At your age, in spite of a distinct lack of motivation at university, where I had spent far too long in the coffee bar writing stories, and far too little time at lectures, I had a knack for passing examinations,and that, for years, had been the measure of success in my life and that of my peers.

I am not dull enough to suppose that because you are young, gifted and well-educated, you have never known hardship or heartbreak. Talent and intelligence never yet inoculated anyone against the caprice of the Fates, and I do not for a moment suppose that everyone here has enjoyed an existence of unruffled privilege and contentment.

However, the fact that you are graduating from Harvard suggests that you are not very well-acquainted with failure. You might be driven by a fear of failure quite as much as a desire for success. Indeed, your conception of failure might not be too far from the average person's idea of success, so high have you already flown academically.

Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it. So I think it fair to say that by any conventional measure, a mere seven years after my graduation day, I had failed on an epic scale. An exceptionally short-lived marriage had imploded, and I was jobless, a lone parent, and as poor as it is possible to be in modern Britain, without being homeless. The fears my parents had had for me, and that I had had for myself, had both come to pass, and by every usual standard, I was the biggest failure I knew.

Now, I am not going to stand here and tell you that failure is fun. That period of my life was a dark one, and I had no idea that there was going to be what the press has since represented as a kind of fairy tale resolution. I had no idea how far the tunnel extended, and for a long time, any light at the end of it was a hope rather than a reality.

So why do I talk about the benefits of failure? Simply because failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case, you fail by default.

Failure gave me an inner security that I had never attained by passing examinations. Failure taught me things about myself that I could have learned no other way. I discovered that I had a strong will, and more discipline than I had suspected; I also found out that I had friends whose value was truly above rubies.

The knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. You will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. Such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won, and it has been worth more to me than any qualification I ever earned.

Given a time machine or a Time Turner, I would tell my 21-year-old self that personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a check-list of acquisition or achievement. Your qualifications, your CV, are not your life, though you will meet many people of my age and older who confuse the two. Life is difficult, and complicated, and beyond anyone's total control, and the humility to know that will enable you to survive its vicissitudes.

You might think that I chose my second theme, the importance of imagination, because of the part it played in rebuilding my life, but that is not wholly so. Though I will defend the value of bedtime stories to my last gasp, I have learned to value imagination in a much broader sense. Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared.

One of the greatest formative experiences of my life preceded Harry Potter, though it informed much of what I subsequently wrote in those books. This revelation came in the form of one of my earliest day jobs. Though I was sloping off to write stories during my lunch hours, I paid the rent in my early 20s by working in the research department at Amnesty International's headquarters in London.

There in my little office I read hastily scribbled letters smuggled out of totalitarian regimes by men and women who were risking imprisonment to inform the outside world of what was happening to them. I saw photographs of those who had disappeared without trace, sent to Amnesty by their desperate families and friends. I read the testimony of torture victims and saw pictures of their injuries. I opened handwritten, eye-witness accounts of summary trials and executions, of kidnappings and rapes.

Many of my co-workers were ex-political prisoners, people who had been displaced from their homes, or fled into exile, because they had the temerity to think independently of their government. Visitors to our office included those who had come to give information, or to try and find out what had happened to those they had been forced to leave behind.

I shall never forget the African torture victim, a young man no older than I was at the time, who had become mentally ill after all he had endured in his homeland. He trembled uncontrollably as he spoke into a video camera about the brutality inflicted upon him. He was a foot taller than I was, and seemed as fragile as a child. I was given the job of escorting him to the Underground Station afterwards, and this man whose life had been shattered by cruelty took my hand with exquisite courtesy, and wished me future happiness.

And as long as I live I shall remember walking along an empty corridor and suddenly hearing, from behind a closed door, a scream of pain and horror such as I have never heard since. The door opened, and the researcher poked out her head and told me to run and make a hot drink for the young man sitting with her. She had just given him the news that in retaliation for his own outspokenness against his country's regime, his mother had been seized and executed.

Every day of my working week in my early 20s I was reminded how incredibly fortunate I was, to live in a country with a democratically elected government, where legal representation and a public trial were the rights of everyone.

Every day, I saw more evidence about the evils humankind will inflict on their fellow humans, to gain or maintain power. I began to have nightmares, literal nightmares, about some of the things I saw, heard and read.

And yet I also learned more about human goodness at Amnesty International than I had ever known before.

Amnesty mobilises thousands of people who have never been tortured or imprisoned for their beliefs to act on behalf of those who have. The power of human empathy, leading to collective action, saves lives, and frees prisoners. Ordinary people, whose personal well-being and security are assured, join together in huge numbers to save people they do not know, and will never meet. My small participation in that process was one of the most humbling and inspiring experiences of my life.

Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people's minds, imagine themselves into other people's places.

Of course, this is a power, like my brand of fictional magic, that is morally neutral. One might use such an ability to manipulate, or control, just as much as to understand or sympathise.

And many prefer not to exercise their imaginations at all. They choose to remain comfortably within the bounds of their own experience, never troubling to wonder how it would feel to have been born other than they are. They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know.

I might be tempted to envy people who can live that way, except that I do not think they have any fewer nightmares than I do. Choosing to live in narrow spaces can lead to a form of mental agoraphobia, and that brings its own terrors. I think the wilfully unimaginative see more monsters. They are often more afraid.

What is more, those who choose not to empathise may enable real monsters. For without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves, we collude with it, through our own apathy.

One of the many things I learned at the end of that Classics corridor down which I ventured at the age of 18, in search of something I could not then define, was this, written by the Greek author Plutarch: What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality.

That is an astonishing statement and yet proven a thousand times every day of our lives. It expresses, in part, our inescapable connection with the outside world, the fact that we touch other people's lives simply by existing.

But how much more are you, Harvard graduates of 2008, likely to touch other people's lives? Your intelligence, your capacity for hard work, the education you have earned and received, give you unique status, and unique responsibilities. Even your nationality sets you apart. The great majority of you belong to the world's only remaining superpower. The way you vote, the way you live, the way you protest, the pressure you bring to bear on your government, has an impact way beyond your borders. That is your privilege, and your burden.

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

I am nearly finished. I have one last hope for you, which is something that I already had at 21. The friends with whom I sat on graduation day have been my friends for life. They are my children's godparents, the people to whom I've been able to turn in times of trouble, friends who have been kind enough not to sue me when I've used their names for Death Eaters. At our graduation we were bound by enormous affection, by our shared experience of a time that could never come again, and, of course, by the knowledge that we held certain photographic evidence that would be exceptionally valuable if any of us ran for Prime Minister.

So today, I can wish you nothing better than similar friendships. And tomorrow, I hope that even if you remember not a single word of mine, you remember those of Seneca, another of those old Romans I met when I fled down the Classics corridor, in retreat from career ladders, in search of ancient wisdom:
As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters.

I wish you all very good lives.
Thank you very much.

Happy new year!
BrownSugar.

My tale of two cities

2008-08-20T14:56:00.000+01:00

Impressions of a place are about comparisons, surprises as they contrast with expectations, things that impress us and yet also the daily interactions and familiarities that turn a place into one's home. I love living in the FCT and having relocated (at least for now) from Lagos, it's only normal to make comparisons between the two cities. I've been looking out for similarities and so far I've found a few.

You know the way the police guys shamelessy, no proudly collect the 20 bucks from the bus drivers. Nope! Haven't seen that around here (On second thoughts, maybe it's more on a professional level ... in offices, with cheques, with contracts)
You know the way you just see mad people strutting around town and everybody just walks past like they are normal pedestrians like you. Nope!
There's just one beggar on the road from my residence to my place of work in Garki. For someone like me who has lived all her life in Lagos excluding a few months away, you'll admit that this is strange. My mind just drifted towards that trailer-crammed Apapa route.
I have never, I mean NEVER ever been stuck in traffic (Okay to be honest, I'm aware you have to watch the time these days. and that means no excuse for lateness anymore.) Queues build up but nothing extraordinary (except of course in times of the fuel scarcity) and besides, the traffic lights are functional. Again Think Apapa.

I admit that these are really random (understatement police!) contrasts but isn't that what endears you the most to anything? The littlest things, right? When I moved to Abuja, I almost fell ill in the first week. The city stank of sloth and inactivity. For a whole week, my body woke up at 5: 00 a.m. already programmed to rush. Well, I learnt my lesson after I became the joke at home and was tagged "hustler." The good side was that I was recommended at work ;) After a while I relaxed and took it for granted and literally forced another ninety minutes into my snooze schedule. A li'l sleep, a li'l slumber ... never hurt nobody! Another time, I needed to buy a notebook and pen and was told that I had to go i.e. be driven all the way to the plaza, supermarket or the central Wuse market. Kai! I remembered Lag once more, where my next door neighbour runs a jack-of-all-trades chemist: Toiletries, recharge cards, bathroom slippers, stationeries, chin-chin.. Obioma nko? You couldn't miss the sound of the tailor's scissors hitting his shoulder-borne machine, or is it the sound of the vendors' horn that would wake me from my post-service siesta to get my Sunday ThisDay newspaper? In fact I even still have some change left with the aboki down the street that recaps my heels. Asking for directions in this city is not even advisable because it appears everybody just moved in too. You are almost sure to get an "I don't know", unlike Lagos where that reply would be a sin. Even the JJC that landed yesterday knows the way. As for finding boli (roasted plantain), it's a long forgotten now broken dream!

I had to go return to Lagos for a week and boy, I was battling with mixed feelings. First things, the sight of okadas, the yellows and blacks (buses and cabs) and the uniformed Owo da brought a smile to my face. It seemed everything was singing the line from Naeto-C's Kini Big deal that says, "One more thing: This is Las Gidi!" Didn't know I'd been gone for so long. Next, I was stuck in Apapa on my way from Victoria Island to Festac for THREE HOURS, not including the hour I spent on the island itself. Of course I got home with different kinds of aches. If I could describe Lagos in one word, I'd choose TOXIC but ... the kind of toxic addiction that eats deep into one's bloodstream and keeps you wanting to go back. Someone called it a strange romance and I couldn't agree more.

Nigerians, Lagosians, Abujans (or what are we called), what do you think? Got any experiences?

PHOTO CREDITS: ME and my camera!

Culture shock: Switching planes

2008-08-18T14:58:00.000+01:00

For some time, I have kept a list of lifetime 'must-visits' which I keep updating periodically and last month, an opportunity to acheive one gracefully presented itself (it's the law of attraction, ask Oprah) in form of work (a course) but who cares as long as it didn't stop me from being a tourist! One lifelong dream fulfilled: visiting France!
Well, well, well! There are no rumours about France. If you ever heard, read and/or saw anything on TV about France, guess what! It's totally true! Paris truly is a city of life, lights and love and Lille was very homely. I was ecstatic when I heard Asa's "fire on the mountain" being played time and again in the stores. Although my schedule blatantly refused to accomodate leisure trips and I didn't get to experience much of the nightlife, the Roubaix d'Espaces and Gare Lille Flandres sights were ravishingly picturesque. Sadly, my innerchild still remains deprived of the Disneyland, Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysees and the Arc de Triomphe visits but the lady within was duly compensated with some groovy shopping!

If anything wore me out the most, apart from the oxymoron of having a freezing summer and having to mentally flip through the pages of my France Afrique textbook in a bid to communicate with attendants, it was the food. The food didn't go down well with my Naija appetite and I couldn't have been happier to find solace in burgers and Chinese restaurants.

One of the things I had known about Paris was that it's THE city of Love. I wasn't disappointed. I couldn't help wondering what would happen when Valentine's day came because it was just mid-July and there was so much love in the air, on the streets, on the train, at the mall, in the restaurants and eventually at the airport. And when the French kiss, it's a French kiss! lol! One of my colleagues who travelled with me felt the French are/were indecent for their public display of intimacy and she voiced her thoughts. I thought it was rather cute though and went on to say, "At least, they are not hypocrites." I know she secretly wished she had made the trip with her significant other!

Sadly and gladly, we concluded our program and it was time to return home. Charles de Gaulle airport was the last venue and scene of such display of affection and then we headed for Lagos.
My final destination was Abuja and so I had one more domestic flight to board. Virgin Nigeria did us strong tin that day as the flight was scheduled for 6.30 p.m and we arrived Abuja at 10.17 p.m (I choose to spare you the gory details for now). Seated by the window, a young couple shortly occupied the seats beside me. The lights were turned off and this Paris-influenced sucker for romance turned eagerly to the couple, secretly hoping for one more romantic scene. I even smiled when the lady began resting her head on the guy's shoulders and their hands found each other. "Awwww!" About eight minutes later, the plane was lit so as to enable the flight attendants serve the meal and VOILA! the speed with which the guy pulled his hand away from hers was alarming. The lady clearly felt awkward with her head still on his shoulders and sat up in her seat. Never had swallowing giggles been any harder for me. Kai!! Naija! So much for love, eh?

Memory lane: Sax.

2008-08-12T11:48:00.000+01:00

10:05 PM 11/8/2008

Freshman year 2004.

First it was Paul and Bayo and at the same time Ladun and Vicki.
And then Bayo, Ladun, Vicki and Paul.
And then Vicki and Paul.
They had more similar interests apart from taking the same major.
He played the sax in the choir, and she was an usher.
He was daring, too sure, strong willed, too playful, silly, too smart, annoying ... dang! You were annoying!
But it makes her heart smile now because he always knew when he had misbehaved
And he knew how to retrace his steps and make amends.
Back at her home almost everybody knew (of) him
It seemed to folk at school like they were involved
The questions, the stares ... Who would blame them?
But they both knew better and had deeper.
Deep enough to make any potential partner green with envy!
It was genuine giving as it was just so natural for both to give each other
To the point where they formed a bond too strong.
He just had your way of making her bare all: plans, thoughts, fears.
He would 'brag' publicly that he was 'the one person and guy who really knew Vicki.
Then they would exchange roles when she gave him that glare to make him start 'confessing.'
His past, his present and his hopes for the future.
Vicki knew Paul, like the back of her favourite hand.

Sophomore year 2005
Both would take turns to exchange views, listen and advice each other.
He was in the habit of skipping classes and would cheekily show up after a while, too sure that she had saved him the lecture notes.
And he was always right.
As time went on, they didn't even need to talk as much.
Friendship became clairvoyant.
In just a year and a half, it felt like they had been childhood friends.
Too good to be true.
And then it happened.

March 18 2006. They had a major misunderstanding between them that did much damage.
Even malice? Paul and Vicki?
And in her rage Vicki discarded every potential memento she should have kept.
His letters, his notes, his texts. what a shame.

Third year 2006
They eventually reconciled but nothing was the same.
They had drifted too far apart.
Nevertheless they kept things friendly and eventually made new friends.
And they would keep accusing each other jokingly but with a mutual understanding.

Fourth year 2007
She resumed on September 10 2007 fresh from the summer holidays.
There was a lot of excitement in the air, noise, laughter, hugs.
She even had with a new haircut!
And then came crashing news: Car, run over, school ... senseless bits.
Paul was dead.
Days turned to weeks, weeks to months and it's been 336 days of total silence.
Silent tears, unended conversations, unexecuted plans.
It keeps dawning on her, still not fully but in bits that he truly is gone.
Some sort of denial. She only rarely talks about it with a few friends, in prayers, in conversations.
Now and again, she finds herself wondering but she still can't admit it to herself.

Today I sit here as my heart and my mind just connect with my fingers in an uncanny unison transforming my thoughts to words.
I hear a lovely sound from a saxophone and my mind is going, "Those instrumentals would have got Paul's attention."
I see new gadgets and I'm like, "Paul wudda had one of these ... AGES AGO!"
Final year is just at the corner
And again, you are not.

I am slowly coming to terms with your death, and those words stung my soul as I released them.
Time and again, I read your emails (awash with joy I kept them)
Ah! You were not around long enough to feel this SIWES/Facebook fever (hmm! did u just say u don't have time for that?)
I would have forced you, duh!
Before I go on imagining what would have been, I'll let go and be grateful for what was. And what has become.

Paul Adegboyega Obayomi,
you were an inspiration, you were a driving force.
Your focus and your dedication were second to none.
You were a standard! You had it all (you wish, short man!)
You were here for a reason and sadly, a season. I would be greedy if I wished you were here for a lifetime.
But in your short lifetime, in our brief meeting you touched and taught me so much.
I'm eternally grateful that our paths did cross.

I miss you Sax.
Vicki.
12:33 AM 12/8/2008

Phase Citizen: Encounter with the Nigerian Police Force

2008-08-04T15:34:00.000+01:00

Still part of the notorious "Server is Down series." Posting titles gives me a sense of urgency and makes me return to blogging.
Post coming up soon. Please bear with us.

When tears drop and hearts break

2008-07-16T21:47:00.000+01:00

There's no telling how sad I am right now.
Just logged in to the Blogville Idol site to find a red cross on my picture.
*Sigh! It's all over!
Just when I was having so much fun
Yours truly has finally been evicted from the BBH!

Oh well, it's not so much about making and giving excuses even though valid.
I would have still left sooner or later.
To everyone that voted, mighty thanxxx and sorry if I disappointed you.
And to the finalists, here's wishing you success!

Ciao!

Brown Sugar.

Blogville Idol '08: Searching for a Wazobian crooner!

2008-07-08T22:43:00.001+01:00

I usually don't do this, but I'm watching myself turn this blog into my journal, at least for this period that Blogville Idol is on. (I still keep a traditional notebook journal where I put pen to paper every other day. Old skool, I know!)
Phew! One down (thanks voters). Thinking of what Nigerian song to sing, hoping I scale the first eviction. I have a list of favourites at the moment that I LISTEN to. Like Asa. Neaaah! Those shoes are toooo big for me. I better get comfy in my bathroom slippers. The other musicians I'm loving are on another frequency, don't think they'd fit. Like Rooftop MCs (rap), 9ice... Where would I start to sing Gbono Fele, which has become my ringtone? Hmmmm! I need a crooner with minimal complicated Wazobian lyrics!

Six, Seven, Eight!

2008-07-06T18:30:00.000+01:00

... SInce I like to play with words., I just thought today's date is significant. 6th of July 2008 makes Six Seven Eight... 6 7 8. Lay them straight ... Oh dear! I'm out!

Blogville Idol ... the Journey so far

2008-07-06T00:35:00.000+01:00

The Blogville contest is just around the corner and I don't even know what to expect anymore. Sent my "demo" yesterday, was pretty scared initially. Scared of being judged, literally. But i've had to keep reminding myself why I entered in the first place. "Cuz I want to do something I've never done before!" I'm happy, I'm scared, I'm freaked out, I'm calm, I'm nervous, I'm excited ... all in the affirmative anyways.

Like I said in Unbiased's blog, it sure feels like we are contestants in the Big Brother House. Blogville is watching!!! Or rather, listening. Was at Dammy's and I just threw my hands in the air when my almost paranoid self heard the Boyz II Men track playing from his playlist! Lol! And that's the part I like the most about reality shows. The bonding! Friends become foes, foes become close ... It's like some unwritten law. So here we are checking each other out, sending shout outs ... Ain't that cute?!

Alright, I dedicate this post to my fellow Blogville Idol contestants ... class of 2008. We made it! And to everybody that has shown some love checking and cheering, much appreciated!

Phase Citizen: The server is down: Chapter 1 (continued)

2008-07-02T22:20:00.000+01:00

So I return as instructed to the passport office the following day, and proceed to the CSI's office. Once again, he is absent and so I speak to his colleague, Mr. *Ogunbiyi who has been present during my previous visits. We exchange pleasantries and he offers me a seat, which I decline.

Impatient me: "I'm here to get the passport."
Mr. Ogunbiyi: avoiding my gaze, " which passport again? Musa is not around so you will have to fill this form ...". He makes to open his drawer.
Me: Trying to be calm with the old man, "No, no, no! I already did all that. Mr. Musa asked me to pick up today. You even gave me the collection slip."
Mr. Ogunbiyi: unable to deny his own signature, "Okay, wait for me." He steps out.

Eighteen minutes later, another man surfaces. He's a lot younger and very scruffy looking, holding something wrapped in a newspaper. He begins unwrapping, pulls out the passport and peeks at the identity page. I notice he has a stunted right pinky!

Scruff: Looking up at me, "Are you Brown Sugar?"
Me: extending my hand, "Yes, thank you."
Scruff: "Thank you ke? You know what I went through to bring it for you? My oga nearly catch me. "
Me: "What??"
Scruff: "I say no be only thank you I go chop ah!"

Just then Mr. Ogunbiyi steps in, and Scruff quickly hands the passport over and leaves. I thank the old man and take my leave. Phew! Just as I step out of the building, my phone rings.

Caller: "Is this Brown Sugar?"
Me: "Yes?"
Caller: "It's *Dele, the person that signed your guarantor form. I was wondering if I could get to know you ..."

JESUS TAKE THE WHEEEEEEEL!

Chapter 2: Encounter with the Nigerian Police Force.

Phase Dreamer: Family and I, June 4, 2020:

2008-07-02T00:22:00.000+01:00

Was on my way to the publishing house at midday when I remembered it was Demide’s Speech and prize giving day service at school today. As though by default, I began mentally rehearsing a most cute pleading phrase and promise, about it being the last time I was going to recede on our schedule and… uh oh! That wasn’t going to work. At least not today when Hun’ was aboard the Boeing 747 on a business trip to Silicon Valley. Plan B would have to fall between asking Oluchi to return the favor I bestowed during the last Open day and being there in person. Well, I decided to appreciate of the blessing of self-employment, slip out of my Chief Executive heels for a moment and just be my children’s mother.

The traffic was light and I arrived at the school’s premise just in time to meet the Chairman’s speech. Goodness! How time flies. I remembered sitting on the courts as an alto singer of the most prestigious Mr. Bamfo’s choir, with Kanayo, Bisola and Fioye on days like this in our white shirts, black skirts and bow ties! To think that I was seated here today as a parent in my own alma mater got me emotional and I quietly mopped my eye. Things were a lot different now. New faces, new people, in fact the choristers were dressed in robes … so typical of life. Thoughts of Hun’ crossed my mind and left me wondering what he was doing at the moment. It was 2: 00 pm; he was definitely reading one of his books and having a drink, most likely his favorite: pineapple. Always so predictable. And then, it came. One of those telepathic moments passed between us and I blew him a kiss in absentia. Those moments had always existed every time we were physically separated over distances right from the very first time. It was only two months after our wedding and I had to be at the publishing house in Johannesburg. I had done my possible best to delegate the responsibility to my assistant, but things got very urgent and required my very presence. I could never forget the look on his face when I put my luggage in his trunk that morning. “But it’s only going to last three days and I’ll be back here before you could even blink.” I said to him. “The worst three days of my life, and it already feels like three decades. Sweets, you know I’m desperately going to miss you and…”, “Come on, Hun’ let’s not do this again. I promise you I’ll be home before you know it and all yours again. But right now, I have to be on that plane so I’d come home to you wearing the fragrance of success and Allure”, and with that planted a kiss on his lips. I was in for another brief round of kiss-planting and cajoling at the airport before I boarded the plane. He looked so boyishly cute in his green v-neck and brown khakis, sulking and rubbing his head like he did when he hit a brick wall. My Hunny Bun, I missed him already and tried to hold back tears for a while and finally let them flow freely as I looked out the aircraft window.
It took an ovation to jerk me to the present and there was our baby girl, Ademide walking up to claim her award for Chief Opral Benson’s prize for the IYA OGE category. I proudly walked up to the podium, close enough to capture the moment with my camera as she picked up her plaque and certificate. The ceremony was really beautiful and refreshing and I was glad I hadn’t missed it for the world. At the end of the event, Ademide ran up to me with a number of friends, some of which I recognized as award winners too. I met a number of their parents, exchanged pleasantries as well as complimentaries and with that headed to pick Derin from his school and to fulfill the first phase of my promise to ‘Demide at her favorite eatery.

24 December 2007.

BLOGVILLE IDOL '08!

2008-06-30T09:25:00.000+01:00

Hey Y'all!
Your very own Brown Sugar has been selected as a contestant for the Blogville Idol '08. Smells like fun and I need all your love and support. So please keep tabs on me and vote when it's time to, aight?!

Mmmmmwah!

The Server is Down (Series): Chapter 1

2008-06-23T12:26:00.001+01:00

Immigrations/Passport control office

I'm at the passport control office to get the new e-passport. Prior to now, I have surfed the web and located the official site for immigrations. It adumbrates the procedure to obtain one and the costing fee. A section of the site shows that one eventually needs make reference to an immigrations officer and so I decide to work with them from scratch. I call a contact in one of the nearby offices. She tells me she's been promoted and transferred to another state and then does me the favour of linking me with her colleague that still works in the stated office.

On getting there, I meet an intidimating spectacle of queues and crowds of people at the entrance. In no time, a lady officer walks up to me, asking what I've come to do.

Me: "I need to get an e-passport."

Lady officer: "Okay, I could do it for you. You'll need two passport photographs ..."

Me: "Okay. How much would it cost?"

Lady: looks around cautiously as if she's being watched and then whispers, "20,000."

Hmmm! I thank her and get her phone number, assuring her that I would call when I was ready. And with that, she hurries back in. I proceed to make my way though the crowd as I remember that I have been told to see someone inside. So I make my way to the bouncer at the gate, and ask for *M. Y. Musa. The mention of that name grants me VIP access and I am ushered into his office. Apparently, he is the CSI. I briefly state my mission and sender.

CSI: "It will cost you 18,000."

So I pay, fill out the forms and ask for a proof of payment. He gives me his word and his phone number. That is my receipt. I'm instructed to return on Monday morning to complete the process. Unavoidably absent on Monday, I return on Tuesday morning to get my picture taken, scanned and uploaded online. The CSI is absent so I have to go unaccompanied/manual this time. Groan! I find my name on the posted list, pick up my file and join the queue as the 175th person. It's my turn to watch as people with links and contacts now receive VIP access. So I open the file with my name on it to view the contents and what do I find?

A bank draft stating the actual cost of the passport i. e. 8,750
An affidavit sworn in my name, declaring my date and place of birth
A letter from a guarantor that promised to "sponsor my trip to the UK." signed and stamped by the Federal High Court

Surprised and scared, I lift my gaze to meet my seat patners' and notice the same mixed reactions going on on their faces. I wait for two hours and a half before my number is called and the exercise is carried out. I am given a slip on which the passport collection date is indicated for the next nine days. But that's too far away! I need the passport sooner and do not hesitate to think loudly in the CSI's office.

CSI: "Nine days? How much did you pay?"

Me: "18,000"

CSI: "Ah! That's why now. You haven't paid for express. Pay 2,000 and collect your passport tomorrow."

Two thousand naira will move my passport from the delay stack to the prompt stack. I'm weak. I pay.

...To be Continued

*Real name changed

Phase CItizen: The Server is Down (Series): Preface.

2008-06-23T11:29:00.000+01:00

Ever heard or come across that phrase before? Well, being a patriotic netizen for almost a decade, which means I was once a regular at cyber cafes, that statement always made me cringe. I would arrive at the cafe with an online to do list and with hopes as high as a skyscraper and then the words would come out the mouth of the administrator. It never failed to sound like an oral obituary, causing my hopes to sag and meaning I would return home with the haunting feeling of UNFULFILLMENT.
Coincidentally or otherwise, I still get that feeling. This time it has little or nothing to do with my netizenship but my citizenship: my being a Nigerian. In recent times, as my awareness increased by knowledge I started keeping a mental checklist of tasks and expectations for my country and more often than not, UNFULFILLMENT revisits me. I've grown to be bothered and have stopped wondering why I haven't escaped to foreign shores.
My country's server is down. Administrators needed urgently!

Read on, and feel free to share your experiences as well. Look out for subsequent 'chapters'.

Ode to Friendship

2008-03-01T02:45:00.000+01:00

Easter’s Excitement
December’s Festivals
Omega Dinners
Going Shopping
Uncle Joe’s Math Class
Not Even “OPRAH”[i]

Evening Breezes
February’s Dawdle
Okra Soup with Kidney
Summer Vacations
Alpha’s Income

Exam Celebrations... endless!
Great Joys These Bring, But Not One
Is Half As Beautiful A Thing As Being Your Friend
Enjoy! You Deserve The Very Best.

[i] Err … did I just sat that?!
Written for my friend Efosa, on August 15, 2007 at 23.49 in my “pretty Eastern room”.

Potential

2008-03-01T02:43:00.001+01:00

A seed looks lifeless, seems useless just lying there.
It won’t grind like the pebbles nor would it sink like them either.
Without a doubt, it is an outcast. Of what worth is it then?
Practically nothing. Dare I ask ‘why’?
Because it is OUTSIDE THE SOIL!
You cannot place a reed in the midst of pebbles and expect perfect viability!
No! It’s an anomaly. An anathema. An aberration. an insult to nature.
It just won’t happen. Unless that seed is planted, it remains just a seed. A misfit.
Full of POTENTIAL, ability to become ...
A seedling, a grain, a shrub, an herb and ultimately a tree.
If and only if it is planted in soil, else it remains
-A figureless figment, a dormant dream, a faceless fantasy, a weightless wish.
Dare to take a step;
Release that seed into the earth
Hold it! Wait for it. Watch it.
You don’t see anything you say? Now imagine it.

Is that a leaf springing up? Looks like it!
Water it. Wean it. Don’t stop now!
Another sprouting! Let’s not get carried away now, that’s not the end.
Give it your best shot yet, all you’ve got.
More growth, more beauty … It’s taking shape!
Déjà vu, you say? It’s exactlly a mirror image
Well, what do you know? That seed , your seed has become its ultimate: a tree.
With fruits for nourishment, shade for protecting, leaves for healing, bark for processing..
It’s time for your reward!
Liberated listener, renewed reader; take a glance at your palm.
Is that your seed still in your hand?
Dare to take this step;
Envision, Realise and Release.

6th Sept., 2005 @ 5 25 p.m after meditating on the book of Esther Page

Water

2008-03-01T02:42:00.001+01:00

I sit here trying to think of an essence, a most pure form and I let my mind roam.
My mind runs through greenery and vegetation but it doesn’t stop.
It collides with the Fauna, but keeps running.
Precious stones are just in view, but it runs in the opposite direction
And finally, my roaming mind halts and my heart leaps,
Absorbing the most Aesthetic Art my senses have ever experienced
I’d liken you to running water;
Oriented, clear, boundless
I’d liken you to a wave;
Tenacious, exuberant, resilient
I’d liken you to a spring;
Resourceful, unadulterated, picturesque
I’d liken you to Rain;
Therapeutic, rhythmic, refreshing
I’d liken you to a lake;
Territorial, promising, deep …
If there’s one element that nature could not do without, it’s water.
Water is the one thing that holds life in place: wild life, humans …every form of it.
It is most essential and most aesthetic.
You are Nature’s water.

Fusion

2008-03-01T02:39:00.000+01:00

That we were never really created to exist alone
Is the reason we seek our fullness in one another;
That no being is never really 100% perfect
Is the reason for our obvious differences;
That complete perfection is never in standing alone
But in the sum total of me and you and all of us.

Like pieces of a jigsaw, without one even one infinitesimal part,
The entire picture remains a puzzle;
Probably pretty and picturesque but never really whole.

That SOLITUDE is alone
And ALONE is never one.
And Solitude is EMPTINESS.

That WHOLENESS makes us,
That PERFECT is our strengths combined
That COMPLETE is perfect with our ‘flaws’: our unrefined strengths.
That wholeness is ONE,
And wholeness makes US.

Hearts

2008-03-01T02:37:00.000+01:00

Hearts feel:
Like plants, hearts respond to stimulus. They feel warmth from the Sun, and ever so tenderly and gradually move in the direction of the warmth. Hearts hold emotions of joy, love, fear, excitement and doubt.

Hearts reach out:
Hearts respond to their feelings, to forces, to nature. With patience and with time, hearts grow and begin to bud and blossom, and hearts go on to radiate beauty. Hearts’ want to share … hearts want to give.

Hearts speak:
In the most silent whispers and in ineffable moments, with a voice so clam, but yet so strong, hearts speak just as they listen. Over the longest distances and through the toughest barriers, hearts commune. Where lips stutter, hearts utter.

Hearts weep:
In valleys, in deserts, at dead ends, at crossroads, in the rain, in the dark, in the cold, hearts could be taken over by emotions and express vulnerability in tears.

Hearts bleed:
In pain, injured by a fight r wounded by a loss, hearts could bleed and they immediately tend to withdraw while nursing wounds.

Hearts break:
Overwhelmed and frustrated, defeated and drowned, hearts lose the will to go on, to pull through. It takes only a miracle to revivify.

Hearts bond:
Healed or healing, hearts lean towards love, gradually absorbing and dispelling, making sort of an exchange until a bond is formed.

A bond is a reinforcement of hearts, so that when one reaches out, the other responds. And when one weeps, the other strengthens. And where the other wants to be heard, one listens. And in moments, they could weep together and they could share, and they could grow together. Indefatigable and inextricable.
‘The best things in life cannot be touched but can only be felt in the heart.’

Out of time?

2008-02-23T22:01:00.000+01:00

On Your marks, Set, …!

Ever noticed how fast our globe, our world seems to be spinning? Like it’s out of control! Considering the present age we live in; the “Jet” age, it’s seems like we are being “jetted” off. Basically everything moves at the speed of light and who knows, things just might get even faster. Destination: UNKNOWN!
I think we are involved in a race against time, but what’s it all about? And what’s the worth of it? Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally in support of technological advancements. Who wouldn’t? Not in this era of instant gratification when virtually everything just seems to have been given either feet or wings. Which other era had the rare privilege of mobility as we do. Fast food, Meals on Wheels… you could even eat Egusi soup out of cans, and the accompanying Eba from a sachet. Believe me, there is barely need for cooking utensils anymore, because man now lives out of cans and boxes; cereal, noodles … it’s all ready to eat. Raw food is fast becoming history, and just might be found strictly in museums. We even got propellant-suggestive footwear: Drivers. We are truly being driven. Our speech is not left out as we barely speak these days. Slangs have become the substitute for language and our words just keep getting scantier. “Hey! Wha gwan?” Half baked is the norm, and is the exchange- as long as it’s fast. You could even squeeze your thoughts into a 160-lettered box called a text message; after all Talk is cheap! Everything is in a hurry but should everyone be? Our music is so fast these days; all noise, no news. And our dressing? It gets cheaper by the dozen, and skimpier by the decade. Prêt-a-Porter!
Seems like the average lifespan is inversely proportional to time. Recall how long our progenitors spent on the earth. Mind you, they were not exposed to so much as a fraction of the technology we have today. But there was unity, organization, hard work, perseverance and longevity. These are timeless values and we must not watch them gain wings and take a flight right before our very eyes.
Now, technology transcends the credit and debit cards, and goes on to make intra-human transactions; the MONDEX. Same goes for communications as cell phones and beepers give way to chips embedded in the human body turning the hand into a ‘hand-held’ gadget. Technology is a breakthrough in our world today and no doubt is here to stay. But my point precisely is this; let’s not become captives of our creation. After all, that is the reason why we are humans; our advantage is in using our brains to get things done. Please let’s give thought and time to the things that really matter right now, and cannot be fast forwarded, rewound or paused. Our health, our family, our friendships, our inner man, our Prayers and our Creator; these make up our lives. This is real life and BALANCE is indispensable.