Resolutions

I don’t think I’d want to make resolutions anymore. Yes, I know that, ‘he who fails to plan, plans to fail’, but that depends on how much you attach to resolutions as a critical element of plans. And now that I think of it, if resolutions are an integral aspect of successful living, then why am I still here? Okay, maybe you’d say am not ‘successful’ yet since I shy away from them resolutions… but hey! You don’t know me, do you? Lol!!


The last time I came around here, I made a ‘resolution’ to update this blog at least weekly…but something seem to be keeping me from doing just that. I’d log into Blogger every now and… I had even left the compose page on in a minimized window for a day but still no post. It wasn’t as if I had nothing to say; actually I’ve been choked by things I’d want to say, but haven’t said. I had always wanted to come around here and purge myself of the junk thoughts… those that keep you soliloquizing on end. Blogger offers me that conduit and space, only a journal offers and I love it… but still I just won’t write!

On penultimate New Year’s Eve, I made a resolution not to make resolutions again and I’ve wholly kept with that until this. Now everything is gone… entwined in this humdum of a new post and whatever the essence is.

But now, I’m back again and I want to keep doing this again, probably every week… but the problem is; Does this decision equal another resolution? I hope I’m wrong, ‘cos if I’m right…then I’m afraid this new resolution might have already become an obstacle to itself. A stillbirth of sorts.

Maybe, am just a spontaneous person. Maybe.

Light hearted...

A contour and a crease
Is it gonna be a smile or a sneeze
I froze the sneeze just in time
To give a smile to this kid...

Out hunting today... for goodies.

Untitled

There’s grief around the edges
No letters on these pages
My anguish are my wages
The say its murder, mother.

No, I just can’t cope
Can’t wait for hope
I fret the walk
And live as the bug

Tiny things stuck in my head
Kaboom
As the mines in some fertile plain
Its noise in my veins; silence in my head

Like lonely footfalls in temple’s stead
Did I buy this ticket to my demise?
A roller-coaster to Hades?
Like sunk in ruin’s sea.

Couldn’t they say it’s another, mother?
Won’t they take the shroud of soot from me?
Would they let the noose soothe me?
And bring my age to shame?

Agwoturumbe and the law, never denied
I told it, it was us
I, she. Our blood curd
Our red killed us.

I await grief’s hood
As my night comes in knots
It will get uglier soon, they say
When my sorrow takes the colour of my pain.

Getting my life back...

Now when I get to think of it,....I feel something not quite crazy or well, stupid, but some parts of my mind seem to support that notion; that I’ve wasted my time seeing the World Cup. Not that I went to South Africa per se, but the fact that I had to hurry home because I wanted to "make sure" Rooney doesn't score for England gave me a quixotic feel of influencing and conjuring up results in the faraway land. At a point I felt like that Octopus thing Paul....did I say I hate jellyfishes and octopuses? I'd stray for a second. You see, I grew up swimming in sea creatures infested brackish waters and I dreaded a jellyfish getting stuck on me. So predicting matches like an Octopus wasn’t that much fun because a supposedly inferior and slimy creature was doing it. But then, I hate having to question things I did for fun because I believed they served to make the mo worth its while. Unfortunately, am not experiencing the hangover that is supposed to come in the immediate aftermath of such a gargantuan event. Maybe it’s due to the anti climax that came from ‘my team’ (not Nigeria, of course) not winning the event despite getting to the finals. Yes, I prefer a virgin nation carting home the trophy and never quite had serious issues with Spain doing that, but well allegiances will remain……allegiances. And for now, they’ll still remain with the land of the Dutch.

Okay, now add the feelings of being in a league with octopuses and knowing that my country failed woefully,…and my preferred nation not going home with the trophy, you can see why it was as if the whole party just didn’t fly for me in the end. I don’t want to think of the things I would’ve done while I was seeing the matches…I don’t want to go there, really. Those would make me miserable. …they already seem to be doing, so I’d stop this little ‘confession’ now.

Well, I’m glad for just one thing right now. I’ve got my life back.

A Hiding Place

I'm back here once again in the quest for a place where the sun doesn't pour its radiance on...where i can sit back and pour my thoughts out in a dish and slowly savour the exoticness or well, the deviant triviality of it. So am back in Blogger...away from the rowdiness and busybody-ing of Facebook, Twitter, MySpace and Buzz. I will remain in love with Facebook...that’s for sure, but I’m seriously thinking of re-uniting with my first love. I remember the peace reading blogs upon blogs conferred on me in those heady days of Blogger; when you are sure to find a page filled with a very rich feast of knowledge, adventure and fun just by clicking on 'next blog'.

I remember the days when I wrote and I relished the idea of coming back tomorrow to write again, not because anybody gets to read and make comments but because i log into Stat Counter and I see figures of hundreds stumbling on or visiting my page.... You know, the odd mention once in a while in Global Voices and the idea you are finally doing something, even though you weren't doing it as well as you'd love to... those seemed inspiring. I remember having a page where all my links were, my community so to say. I could remember tweaking my template and loving how well it looked; then tweaking again and losing all that made the entire idea appeal to me. I lost the links, most of the posts and everything that made a little sense. I think it was the despair that made me run away...and stayed away for three whole years. But then, that wasn't entirely responsible for it. That miserable firm i worked for contributed too, well, like I said in the post preceding this,it was a hell hole, a prison of sorts. Then I had to live my online life in a mobile device and blogger wasn't on mobile or maybe i hadn't discovered how to make it work on mobile... But thing is, i blanked out around here... and in came Facebook, the then crown prince of the mobile web. I lived my life on the go, so i had to embrace Yahoo Go and Gmail for Mobiles for mails, eBuddy and Nimbuzz for chats and of course Facebook and Twitter for pumping a little air into my crowded mine. MySpace woke up after the train had left the station, so i had to throw away the ticket i got for that. But then again, regardless of the incessant privacy updates’ form Mark Zukerberg's people, Facebook still made it seems as if the whole world was peering at you from under your behind..., and at times you can never be too sure you didn't leave a piece of brown smelly stuff around …and on you. Yea, I know, you're clean. We all are, aren’t we? But you still have to keep your hands out of your pocket when moving around the men in shades. Not just the men in black (those are not the actual threat anyway), but those who would come after you because you had uploaded a picture of yourself beside a borrowed Limo.

Someone once had this theory that the more friends you have on Facebook, the more confused you are...and yes, the fewer comments you get. That's if you are the comments type. The comments types are in love with comments and they easily get disillusioned when they seldom see them. The next time they answer Facebook's "What’s on your mind" question would probably when they've been so bored and they look towards Poor Zuck for help. 'The non comments' type trudge ahead for months on end after making status updates’ without comments. For them, i think it's about listening to what people around you are saying more than running your mouth out. Then, maybe not. It's never too sure in the world.

The lights are gone now and with it always goes the thinking part of my brain that's not too friendly with hot spaces. Unfortunately, that's the part that is doing the writing now... In a little while, the beep sound would come on, so I’m wrapping this up sooner than I’d love to. I'll back to do it again whenever the retards at PHCN get their 2 plus 2 right.

Well... well. So am thinking again, should I quit Facebook entirely? Or visit my old love under the cover of darkness, while living the life of Facebook? Infidelity calls. And where best to answer its call than here in my hiding space.

Seeking a hiding place...

I'm back here once again in the quest for a place where the sun doesn't pour its radiance on...where I can sit back and pour my thoughts out in a dish and slowly savour the exoticness or well, the deviant triviality of it.

So am back on Blogger...away from the rowdiness and busybody-ing of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Google +. I will remain in love with Facebook...but i'm seriously thinking of re-uniting with my first love. I remember the peace reading blog after blog conferred on me in those heady days of Blogger; when you are sure to find a page filled with a very rich feast of knowledge, adventure and fun just by clicking on 'next blog'. I remember the days I wrote and relished the idea of coming back tomorrow to write again, not because anybody gets to read and make comments but because I log onto StatCounter to see figures of thousands stumbling on or visiting my page daily.... You know, the odd mention once in a while in Global Voices and the idea you are finally doing something, even though you weren't doing it as well as you'd love to... those seemed inspiring. I remember having a page where all my links were, my community so to say. I could remember tweaking my template and loving how good it looked; then tweaking again and losing all that made the entire idea appeal to me. I lost the links, most of the posts and everything that made a little sense. I think it was the despair that made me run away... and stayed away for three whole years. But then, that wasn't entirely responsible for it. That miserable job I had contributed too and like I said in a post sometime, that place...well, it was a hell hole, a prison of sorts. Funny, I ran the hole. I was chief warden.

Then I had to live my online life in a mobile device and blogger wasn't on mobile or maybe I hadn't discovered how to make it work on mobile... But thing is, I blanked out around here... and in came Facebook, the crown prince of the mobile web and social media. I lived my life on the go, so I had to embrace Yahoo Go and Gmail for Mobiles for mails, eBuddy and Nimbuzz for chats and of course Facebook and Twitter for pumping a little air into my crowded mine. MySpace woke up after the train had left the station, so I had to throw away the ticket I got for that. But then again, regardless of the incessant privacy updates form Mark Zukerberg's people, Facebook still made it seem as if the whole world was peering at you from under your behind... and at times you can never be too sure you didn't leave a piece of brown smelly stuff around and on you.Yea, I know, you're clean. We all are, ain't we? But you still have to keep your hands out of your pocket when moving around the men in shades. Not just the men in black (those aren't the actual threat anyway), but those who would come after you because you had uploaded a picture of yourself beside a borrowed Limo. Someone once had this theory that the more friends you have on Facebook, the more confused you are...and yes, the fewer comments you get. That's if you are the comments type.

The comments types are in love with comments and they easily gets disillusioned when they seldom see them. Thus, after a while the only time they answer Facebook's "Whats on Your mind"s question would probably be when they've been so bored and they look towards Poor Zuck for help. 'The non comments' type trudge ahead for months on end after making status upadates without comments. For them, I think it's about listening to what people around you are saying more than plaining running your mouth. Then, maybe not. It's never too sure in the world.

The lights are gone now and with it always goes the thinking part of my brain that's not too friendly with hot places. Unfortunately, that's the part that is writing now... In a little, the beep sound would be on, so I'm wrapping this up sooner than I'd love to. I'll back to do it again whenever.

So what was I saying? Should I quit Facebook entirely? Or visit my old love under the cover of darkness, while living the life of Facebook? Infidelity calls. And where best to answer it's call than here in my hiding space.