Rumination

Okay, it’s 2 minutes into Tuesday the 8^th of May. Me? One of those nights where sleep refuses to come. Not bad for a guy who prefers the oddity of the hour for working. Only this time, I’m stuck with a notebook whose battery life can go no more than an hour at its very best. Yet, my mind seems like it’s loaded with enough contents to run into hours of typing. So, what about my third screens? Puhleeeze, spare me the pains of having to sweat through those tiny keypads. And here’s where I must restate my allegiance to the laptop despite the widespread adoption of mobile phones. True, I’ve caught up with the fad like every sane being; it still falls short of serving my writing needs when it comes to times like this. Besides, it’s well documented the times I’ve blogged from my phones with the yet-to-be edited typos there for whoever reads my blog (Hello, Myne Withman). So, how’s this one going out? Well, sometimes I do this here then have it bluetoothed to my phone for onward copy-and-paste method on my blog; shikenan.

So, whatever’s brewing on this young adult’s mind? Sigh...rumination to put it in one word. Just random thoughts that stem from a wandering mind. A recap of the day gone by comes to mind so here we go.

On a day where my awards application overshot my set deadline for the 3^rd time, no thanks to the conflicting questions that greeted me contrary to what I’d based my answers on. In quiet frustration, I settled for a forced nap after I’d run out of ideas on how best to tweak my essays to reflect the twisted questions that sat between me and a possible ticket to the ‘Valley’. Well, the nap would turn out to be anything but one except when considered in the vague sense of it. Why? Well, àsà was everywhere haunting me with dreams of what remained undone in front of me. And so, I found myself muttering words of prayers and affirmation in my subconscious; the least I could do in those times. Waking up later, I reached for my BB and navigated to tinybuddha.com to find solace in an article I’d stumbled across some time ago. The article was one I could relate to in my present state. In the midst of my surfing, bell rang and it was good ol’ ma. Minutes later, I’m on Hussein’s bike going off to see his new baby. Still under a week old, I held the princess in my arms for some minutes, greeted the wife but didn’t know what else to say other than ‘congrats’ which seemed on repeat for God knows how long. The few minutes in the female dominated room must have seemed like forever and my stare at the floor half the time. Anyways, I got up to leave and made my material contribution to the newest mother in town. That was it, another action that brought with it great relief at a time when I had my own issue playing out on my mind. That’s been a great antidote to my psychological dramas lately: step back and away from myself to do something great for someone else.

Next couple of hours was spent with my neighbours listening in on superstitious stories. Yeah, the all too familiar cliché of haunting enemies threatening homes and marriages bla bla bla. Least of my concerns, believe me. I got bored from listening and switched to my BB for comfort. Boss B was online live from Texas with the same news: dulling! You would understand if you were in the hommie’s shoes as something close to a JJC in a first world. Well, I was in the house afterwards doing justice to a plate of rice and vegetable soup. “Enjoy it while it lasts”, the other half of my split personality said to me given the luxury ends today as I make my way back to Festac: back to a life of street foods vis-a-vis junks, noise pollution and the madness of the city center.

Fast forward to the night time, where Wigan put to rest any doubts as to where Yakubu Aiyegbeni would be spending his footballing season come next campaign except another struggling club buys into his washing. The same night where an ex broke the news of her finding a new guy (na me ask o) and another who’s been on my radar relayed the news of her job loss. What could I say? The story of my life continues to wear the look of a thriller movie with conflicting situations that I still pray bears some elements of commercialization (still a mystery). Yes o, for all that àsà spells as of now, there’s still no guarantee of a business (iya wouldn’t like this). True, the dreams and role plays before my four walls and shiny mirror help fuel my baby steps - lest I drown in frustration and desperation – in reality, nothing’s guaranteed. The constant factor remains that as someone who’s now become unfazed by failure (a very very very ugly word and experience), I know it won’t kill me. Rather, the sickening feeling is one brought about by the reality of my ageing self and in piecing together the broken parts to start the next iteration. Saturday, I picked up some old journals that date back to 9 years and alas, old dreams that have come true in fulfillment. It's one of the beauties of writing and the reason I dug through my box for those old jourrnals of mine: to reenergise my conviction that dreams in deed come true for many have and going with the trend, more surely will. On a positive note, I can connect the dots of where I stand today to where I was in those 9 years thus spelling a progressive journey. Still, I wonder, for how long before the Grand picture? True, my mind’s accepted (gba kamu)that it’s a lifelong journey, it still craves for those defining anchor points that spell good breaks. Sure, I’ve had some though have had to sit back and reflect deeply on them sometimes when the world seems like it’s sitting on my shoulder so much that I can’t even see my blessings. Anyways, as much as I remain defiant, I’m grateful for the whole.

Lotsa things on my mind but this notebook battery’s saying different: it simply wants to hibernate! Anyways, I woulda loved to edit my Kachifo Creative Writing Workshop application piece plus further refine the “Good News” piece I plan on sending out for publication in The Guardian but for some recent reconsiderations given its 'seeming' anti-religious dimension. Well, all that’s not to be for now so time to have this up on my blog or facebook notes.


Later that day...
Okay, here's where my android powered baby does its thing. First though, a quick check-in..."broadcasting live from the Lagos/Badagry expressway where one hour after we departed B-town, we r still wading tru traffic". No news for anyone familiar with the route. But I'm not sweating it. Probably out of excitement over yet another idea i woke up to just this morning. okay, there's the KWAM1's sempe factor booming out of the bus stereo :-). [Sigh]...it's haaat in here! Thank God for the weather (not expecting otherwise r u? In all things, give thanks *wink*). Anyways, once i touch down :-) at the festival town, i have a few runnings round d hood. Yeah, day's not gone yet n that I'm not sitting in front of a monitor doesn't mean there aren't other equally off-monitor things that can't be done. Yeah, it all ties with the Grand Picture, believe me. Besides some GTB things, I'm thinking dropping in on Woye at the studio. Can only hope the hommie's free. Been going back n forth over this meeting but with asa's present state of completion, now's the time to get Woye involved. Sure, we've talked briefly about what me needs but we r yet to c. So, studio runz definitely looming. Reminds me of this dude who had a studio in Garki. Oh, which brings to mind Yisheng too, the sound engineer that set me up with the GGC job at a time when Intentio had its back against the wall. Wow, what beautiful memories. And then, Yosi comes into the picture for her crib was jus a few meters away from the studio. While i didn't really have much to do with them entertainers, I can still recall the scenery with up-n-coming artists, producers, groupies all piled around d studio burning cigarettes and draining bottles of booze. Yeah, the entertainment world is far from sainthood. rather, a world of lust, materialism and make believe. Life's more like one party after another. Recall way back in 1999/2000 at my hommie's crib with tuface, tetuila, black tribe, blackface n them crew; the house party was dope with jus 4 ladies and over a dozen bois. The nicotine tu baba n his entourage smoked on that night coulda built a factory. Them party ol' days *smiles*. Anyways, back to what's in view. I would be surprised if Woye's studio's devoid of the typical i jus relayed. Booze n smokes definitely characteristic tools like cutting tools to a capenter's workshop. Then there's the tattoo covered, crazy hair-styled, pant sagging artistes whose names you'll only recall when they hit the limelight.

Originally written on May 8