As within, so without…

I had a pretty idle moment at my desk at work today. Well, like most people, I figured this was one of those me-time moments, so I decided to use it judiciously.
What judicious thing could I do? I thought and before that became a problem, I glanced about my desk to find books that I have read over and over again. I took out my phone to listen to a few songs by Phil Collins, but the music made no sense to me at that time. So out of curiosity to know what’s been happening on the online social front, I logged in to my facebook account to see a link shared by Justin Irabor, a friend from my secondary school days. I fed my eyes and mind with posts after posts of this Justin dude and his post “My life bursts at the seams” is what inspires this post.

Permit me to begin my point with a few lines from Justin’s post. Here : I have a superhero complex, but you would never be able to tell by looking at me. As a result, many people come to depend on me but I am also the myth-embellished ostrich, and as soon as the responsibility becomes too much, I break down into a depressed heap of tears and scurry into a tunnel of despair “.

This is one of those who, despite their own limited space of getting comfort, still find it good enough to put smiles on faces. That’s selflessness but how many care about these selfless acts? Few.
I believe people should take me responsibility of making themselves happy not depending on someone else to do that job for them, especially when the “giver of happiness” is unhappy himself.

Many people in this position as Justin never find a hand to hold when they need to reach out or a shoulder to cry on when things go bad. And many, who are much weaker characters than Justin, would take the cowardly path towards suicide.

The world will try to confine and compress you like you are not anymore confined and compressed. There is a set standard everyone is expected to follow (still according to the world) and any deviation from those standards means “abnormal”. But t should this be so? What if abnormal was the actual normal? Let me expand that a bit.I, despite being an introvert, derive joy and satisfaction in acting to inner nudges that I feel once in a while. I might feel the nudge to say hello to a total stranger and even proceed to shake hands with the stranger. I have been known to withdraw abruptly from a conversation, but the society see this as weird and unacceptable and abnormal.

We are still talking about finding happiness here and I have no automatic suggestion that is applicable to everyone. You just have to do what you are most comfortable doing without a care in the world. This thing which you are most comfortable doing should not be an inconvenience to another person. Though sometimes people like to complain but it’s just because they are sadists.

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Big blog theory

Phantom Writes

Challenge Eleven: Christian Aeriel Maximillian
June 11, 2013 12:00 AM
**For the record, Christian Aeriel Maximillian was my classmate and friend in secondary school. Back then, he was still the writer, and I was his illustrator. He would craft tales about the gods, and I would bring them to life with my sketches. Sweet times. JS3. What? I can famz… okay, I am gone***
Mastermind: Christian Aeriel Maximillian
Domain: AerielWrites
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Disclaimer:It is not the intention of the writer to spark a religious war with this write-up. The writer will take no responsibility for anything, code or slang which might be misunderstood in this write-up.
What if cancer was not meant to be an illness, just a failed evolutionary step?
What would happen if we fixed it?
What would we become?
Would we embrace it?
Or would we fight it – all over again?
‘Approximately 12.7 million cancer cases and…

View original post 2,897 more words

From PLC to “PLW”.

You’re a great guesser if you guessed that I would begin this post with an apology. Yeah, it’s necessary if I do that, doesn’t it?
But truth is few people (especially those who are seeing my post for the for the first time and those who didn’t even know that I went AWOL) are clueless about why I should tender an apology, but I’ll tell ya.

Ahem *clears throat* You see, I promised to stop by each week to post something even if it was just a letter “A”, but I didn’t…I went absent for more than a whole year! Forgive me. You know, it’s better late than never.
Now that we’ve got that out of our hair, I would like to bring to table a more palatable menu. I mean what I’ll be “dishing” out in a moment.

Before I proceed, will you please do me a service and indulge me this little game? Scroll up a bit, look for the place on your phone or computer screen that says “From PLC to ‘PLW'”, stare at it harder, now make a mental note of it(We’ll be realising some things later, as some of you think I’ll be giving business tips. Sorry).
Alright, now that you’ve done that, I think there’s no need for me to hang out with the wrong sort–in this case…IRRELEVANT ISSUES. Let’s proceed, shall we?

Ahem*clears throat* I’ve been having a brain tornado lately. I’m not being literal… What I mean is that my imaginations have been running wild lately. You see, I’m a writer, though now an “established” one(if you know what I mean). It’s the norm that one must have thought of series of ideas before one would be able to put it down on paper, and I’ve not been exempted from this norm.
On one particular day when I was going through an article, I came across a post that talked about search for intelliigent beings. Look here—>http://m.voanews.com/a/scientists-renew-effort-looking-for-intelligent-alien-life/1728495.html Well, this piece of article inspired one of my “brain tornado” moment and I immediately thought of writing something that featured a group of young students who on an educative trip to the ancient city of Azteca stumbled upon a rare creature that fits the description of an alien from space. In my thoughts, I argued that if I called a rare creature an alien, then on a personal level, and if I were a scientist myself, how would I, from personal examination give proofs that I really thought what I saw was an alien? Would I call it an alien because it looked like something I had never seen before? Then I went ahead to assume a different DNA structure for the creature, a different blood colour, chemical composition of body tissues, efficient brain structure, and so on. But the problem I have is since I assume a different blood chemical composition, DNA(not having protein in it), brain efficiency, and so on, why can’t I give its body parts another name? Names like? This is where I have a problem. This is one of those ocassions when “PLC”(Personal limited communication) evolved into “PLW”(Personal limited words).

On another ocassion, I thought of all the words with terrible meaning I knew. Well, I noticed that bad stuffs are usually worshipped(I’m not sure if this happens consciously or unconsciously). I’ll focus on words for today. Before we proceed, indulge me another game. Take out your dictionary, look up the meaning of these words: Witch, wizard, idiot, bastard, HIV/AIDS, Ebola, diarrhoea, racist, violent, agressive, rape, assassin. Let’s stop here. Now look at those words carefully. What do you realise about them? If you are thinking what I’m thinking, then good for us. Looking at those words, I realise that when a person is not one of those things, there’s no made word to describe such a person. If a male possesses magical powers, he is called a wizard. But what about people like us without magical powers? Humans? What about the wizards? Aren’t they humans?
Give other examples yourself. No wonder the famour authoress, J. K Rowlings looked around, seeing nothing with which to describe non witches or wizards came up with the word “muggle” when she wrote the Harry Potter novel. Like Rowlings, I’m having a difficult time describing my alien. I hope you bear with me. *wipes tear*

NB: You can disprove this and I’ll only be too glad to be enlightened to dismiss your points.

I ‘MARCHED’ out!

Ah!*sighs*
I’m always at loss as to how to begin my posts. Blame it on pre-occupied mind, but before I proceed; I think I owe you an apology or two. You might say an apology is not needed. You might ask “what has the gentle-man done this time?” If you see none of my wrongs, then I’ll assume two thing:
1. You’re the forgivable type and,
2. You simply don’t expect anything from me anymore — you’ve forgotten all about me. 😦
It’s okay, though if the second assumption is true. I hold no grudge.*wipes tears*
Alright, amidst all the apologies, assumptions, sobs,…. I shall give you a recap of what happened last month. Yes! The month of MARCH!!!

Saying I survived last month is an understatement. See, I literally marched out! Not without a few bruises though.(figuratively speaking) hehe

Yours truly went through a lot, amigos.
First it was the issue of unpaid fees(I still have that on my neck, though) then the issue of break-up and make-up(not women’s stuff) and finally came the demise of my father in the world of fiction, ‘Chinua Achebe'(RIP).

I won’t go into any detail involving the first mentioned above because that seems to be my cross to bear.(Hope I escape being crucified)

The second reason mentioned above was the most sensitive of all. I wrote how it all happened, albeit figuratively, but if you need to know what happened; then I’ll suggest that you go through my last two posts.
Now let’s proceed with what happened after the whole episode, shall we?

After our make-up, I mean my Babe and I. We lived happily ever after. What were you expecting? Lol

Then the issue of Chinua Achebe. Hmmmm…I write this part with a tearful eye. You see, I’ve always and will always have the memory of Chinua in mind. He was an exceptional writer, a talented man,…the list is endless. His demise came as a shock to me. And while we still weep, bemoaning what wasn’t our fate, wishing he were still alive, let us take time to eulogise him, his achievements, his works, what he stood for.
Achebe was born 82 years ago in one of the eatern states in Nigeria. According to his kinsmen, Achebe has always shown interest in story-telling and it was no surprise to everyone when he wrote his first book “things fall apart” at the age of 27. The book was a classic! I recall in one of the interviews which he granted. He was asked what inspired the book. Achebe in his humble manner replied, “every generation have a story to tell. This is my story”. Wow! What a simple reason, yet so inspiring! Yes! Inspiring because it has made me pick up my pen to tell the story of my own generation. Indeed, Achebe was and will remain an inspiration to many.

On another note, I shall post excerpts of every chapter of my book. Don’t ask me the title; I always have problems coming up with that one myself.

To be continued…

Toast to bleeding hearts.

As I sit here reminiscing,
hoping that time would steal this feelings,
asking questions with only silence responding,
And the winds conveying my distant calls to nothing.

I say to myself, “I shouldn’t have said that”
But my tongue has its own mind, it acted before I blinked.
Now I’m left trying to quench the flame of guilt,
Which seems to be burning down my innocence.

Funny how we were once best friends, then best lovers.
Moving steadily without blames for each other,
Erasing mistakes, leaving no room for blunders,
Till we spoke words we now wish to clutch back. 

Love:Ugly beauty

Hmmm….
How do I begin? I know I’ve been away for too long on here, but trust me, I have a reason. I just hope I’m not crucified before I get my excuse into your craniums.
Forgive me, I’ve not been in hiding, I’ve been through a lot lately and believe when I say I’m sad. Yes, I mean it.

Okay. With my charisma, charm and dedication to anything I do, you would expect everything about me to be trouble-free, am I right? Yes, in a way, but it’s not always the case.
I’m writing this with a heavy heart. Reason? I broke off a two year relationship! Some of you might snicker and ask, “two years is a small thing, why cry?” But I tell you, two years is not a little thing in my own case not when you put all your time, effort and heart to it. Two years is not a little thing when you share your secret and all you had with your partner. Two years is not little when you’ve built a good rapport with your partner, she understands you and you understand her.

I’ve seen people tell me not to cry over it, but as always, it is easier said than done. You should walk in my shoes to understand what I feel.
They tell me, “you were never meant to be” but that’s a lie! We had everything going for us, but what made us crumble apart? I don’t know. I guess we had something troubling our hearts. And we should’ve settled it amicably. I mean talk about what was troubling us but we didn’t. I must admit, she was willing to tell me hers, but I was unwilling to tell her mine. Why? Because I felt she might begin to worry about me and I didn’t want that…smh

Love is a beautiful thing. Yes. No one can convince me to have a different opinion about it. It’s a beautiful thing, but like all good things, Love also has its ugliness. Call it a rose with thorns, a diamond with its hardness, a sea with its occasional storms…the list is endless.

If I tell you I don’t miss her(I won’t mention her names), believe it to be a lie. I do miss her. Isn’t it painful that when I try to think, images of her come flashing in my mind. I miss everything about her. The sound of her laugh when we talk on phone, the childish look in her eyes, her caress,…I miss everything.

I sit here all by myself reminiscing how I let all we shared, our ambitions and dreams slip away. It hurts. I’m not going to give up on her, though. I just hope she leaves her heart open to me when I come back. Don’t think I’m being selfish.
I know life has many different chapters for us, and one bad chapter doesn’t mean the end of the book. I know things will be better.
Right now, rather than think of the academic tests which I’m going to take begining from next week, I think of what was and will always remain dear to me.

*sighs*

Between Damoche and I (part 2)

You’re right if you say I shouldn’t pen anything in my foul state of mind. Yes, I’m angry, disgusted, baffled and irritated.
Right now, the proper way to begin eludes me because my mind is totally blank of a proper or decent language. Blame it on what I found lately. I should never have involved myself with story of that guy’s demise. Yes, I mean Damoche. Did I hear somebody snicker ‘so you’re familiar with the name now?’ Yes, I am. I’m not going to feign ignorance this time. (sincerely, I didn’t feign the last one either)Now, I’m feeling like someone in the know, and that ebony bros would be so proud of me now…hehehe.
Hmmm, It seems I’m starting to feel better about this whole thing with me flashing my teeth in a smile. Still, that shouldn’t make me forget what brought us here,should It? People say ‘shut up and proceed, Christian. Enough of this unseriousness’, but I say that’s ‘rude’.
I’ll take no offence, though just to prove myself a perfect gentleman which of course I am.
Hmmhmm*clears throat*Now, to what brought us here. How do I begin? Okay,
I went out for a walk this morning, hands buried in pocket, earphones in ears and mind set on one thing: to get a loaf of bread and a jar of mayonnaise for breakfast. I hadn’t walked a few metres when I noticed a small crowd gathered around something. At first, I thought it to be an accident scene(of course I don’t wish for one) but a closer look convinced me that it was the newspaper stand. Holychrist. I had even forgotten that a news stand was situated on that spot. Indeed, my two months indoors did more harm to me than good,and If I continue this way, then there’s a possibility that I wouldn’t reject the use of a map to help me find my way around my own neighbourhood! Smh
Well, I went over to the news stand and feasted my eyes on the different magazines. ‘Discover the secrets to a beautiful skin’ a caption read. ‘Nonsense!’ I uttered in disgust since they made no sense to me. I moved to the sports section and immediately removed my ear phones from my ears for just one reason: to enable me hear the rubbish the sport fanatics at the stand would say about my own Lebron James. Let them tell me he’s not the best basketball player in the world now,I swear, they will surely get an earful. I waited patiently for the first person who would take a swipe at my favourite football club, ‘Chelsea fc of England’. There was none. Suddenly, the murmurings of one thickset man caught my ears. I couldn’t make out his first sentence but the next one he said hit my ‘pinnae’ accurately, then went straight to my middle ear and ‘bang’ on my ear drum.
I shook my head in disgust in reaction to what the man had revealed, but on a second thought, I said, ‘this man could’ve exaggerated with what he saw just to spice it up. I’d better get a look myself, afterall, there’s no harm in it.’

I didn’t need to strain my neck to get a better view because on the front page of ‘The sun’ newspaper were the words boldly written: POLICE NABS THIEF WHO STOLE DAMOCHE’S WATCH.
Initially I thought this thief stole from Damoche when he was alive() but on reading the full story I discovered to my dismay that the thief took off Damoche’s wrist-watch few moments after he was killed.
Oh my goodness! Do people now loot the dead? This question begs answers.
Though I don’t possess the power of clairvoyance but with such a thing happening, I mean the dead being looted. It only convinced me of one thing: that people in desperation will begin to go as far as exhuming corpse and stealing the coffins to sell at retail price.
Yes, It might become that terrible if we forget to state in our individual ‘wills’ that our graves be fastened down with huge chains and irons.
Who can tell me what could’ve prompted such action? Did I hear someone say ‘Poverty?’ It’s quite pathetic, though.
Now I’m sad again…*crying*

Between Damoche and I

I’ve had to ‘suffer’ in silence as some ‘Damoche’s’ followers or let me put it in plainer terms, ‘hypocrites’ update countless statii to express their sympathy over someone who was never popular, familiar or if I would put it in a more technical term ‘influential’ to them.

Now, i put the word ‘suffer’ in quotes because ever since news of his (Damoche) death, I’ve been rendered partially deaf due to the sympathetic term most common to Nigerians as ‘eeyah’ and also made blind as a result of the numerous ‘R.I.P’ statii which flooded my facebook newsfeed.

My allegations might raise a few questions since the eeyahs were not directed at me for I’m in no way related to this Damoche, and you might begin to wonder how news of his death reached me and how the said eeyah which I claim rendered me partially handicapped affected me.

It goes thus:

It happened one cool evening and I had gone to the salon to have my hair cut. I sat beside this ebony wild looking bros(his appearance spoke volumes)when all of a sudden he screamed, ‘yeeh!!!’

Alarmed at what made him scream and also in response to the curious impulse which had also built up inside me. I peered into what could supposedly have cause his screaming and there on the screen of his blackberry phone was the battered image of a young who at a guess could’ve been between the ages of 23 and 25. Thinking the battered man to be someone who was close to the bros because of the way he screamed, I rendered the trademark ‘eeyah, sorry bros.’

My comment seems to baffle the bros who regarded me with a look like he was staring at an alien.

‘you no know Damoche?’ he asked in his heavily accented pidgin.

‘Holy Christ!’ I exclaimed apparently in shock as well since I also knew one Damoche. ‘Damoche? That guy wey dey live for that green house for the next street, wey sabi dance well well. so na him dem use bullet scatter him brain so? eeyah’

‘which kain yeye house you dey talk sef? he asked. This time his voice was filled with irritation at my ignorance. You no know the Damoche wey sing one song like that…’ Then he began reeling out lyrics of the song apparently to jerk up my already paralyzed memory.

Well, to prevent him from singing further (because honestly, his voice only deafened me more) I pretended like I had recollected ‘his Damoche.’

Now, the naked fact is that, just like myself, there are many others who aren’t even familiar with the musician ‘Damoche’ but who have generously rendered their pathetic eeyahs and so many other terms to express their sympathy like ‘R.I.P Bro, we will miss you’, ‘I can’t believe you’re gone’ blablabla….

Of course the demise of any soul hurts me, but the guy wasn’t that popular. Don’t get me wrong, he isn’t the one I’m against. It is his hypocritical sympathisers who are trying to claim familiarity with someone whose music they never had on their playlist,let alone dance to when he was alive.

The demise of that guy hurts, though and like others, I can’t help but also render my ‘eeyah, R.I.P, bro’ and may your killers face the same fate which befell you.