The topics covered are varied, but time after time they settle on being pregnant and being hot…… They can be excused – the oldest of them is twenty-six and they’re all first timers.. looking to work as long as possible before they hit the motherhood trail…. For the hour they meet, all we get to hear is trimesters, weight gain, gym routines for pregnant women… and a whole slew of designers I’ve never heard of…

If only, we had not gone ‘open plan’, I’d simply have shut my door and spared my ears the trouble….. God dey o!

What worries me though – and this is all altruistic -  is where the wives, the sister who is now a mother,  the aunts and the girlfriends fit. The wife, or official girlfriend is a critical case in point;  they are not your mother, and they usually do not have children who are old enough to get them gifts for the day – but they do have the influence and ability to make the day horrible for one….

So do we,  in the interest of peace because we love them soo much, assume the responsibilities – which leaves us blokes even more confused  – or do they simply chin up and wait till their own children grow up and get them gifts? Is there even a category for prospective mothers? Or does it really matter?

nothing really changes
everything remains the same
we are what we are till the day that we die

- Larry Norman

Two years ago Larry Norman passed…

We all gather, like bees drawn to precious nectar, different faces, different colors; sometimes grumpy, sometimes affording the luxury of a fleeting smile -  all united by a singular  objective – jumping aboard Bus 21. The most we exchange are curt nods, or on a particularly good day the obligatory comment about the weather.

They tell me this is the coldest winter in 50 years.  That is scant consolation for the waves of shivering that wash over me – whilst my teeth beat out an incohenrent rhythm. Seconds stretch into minutes – which seem like hours – as the gods of this deserted place seek to seize their pound of flesh.

The cold reminds me of one thing. This is not my place…. I am me, journeying through… But standing for a moment…

Sat behind two naija blokes on the bus to work on Friday… Couldn’t help over hearing them talk about their women issues..Mine defo pale in significance… One ‘imported’ a wife from home and three months in, all she wants to do is hit the pubs every evening…..Surely,  this is only one side of the story?

Gladwell says there’s a 10,000 hour rule – a minimum amount of time irrespective of innate ability – required to gain mastery of something. He points to the examples of the Beattles, Bill Gates, Bill Joy and the like…. I wonder if there is an equvalent rule in forgetting someone.. .. to erase their memory from your mind…..Maybe a 90 day rule?

I’m officially retiring my BB.. Kid sister wants it… and I think I’m sooo over it… They have to be the most overated devices.. next to the iPhone.

I stumbled on my old ZoeGirl collection whilst mindlessly trawling my mp3 collection..(the band broke up ) They used to be my favourite Christian girl band back in the day.. alongside Point of Grace…It felt great to hear Dismissed again…. brought back memories….and lots of head bobbing.. in lieu of dancing…

I think serious work – which is great cos it pays the bills -  is stifling my pretend writing.. I’ve been stuck on four lines of a poem for the past month… The last thing I wrote seriously was in October.. #notgood! I shall write.. whether the Devil Mama Charlie likes it or not…

Feeling lonely? There’s two solutions available – a fembot (which will set you back a few thousand quid) or a boyfriend pillow (which is considerably cheaper). There’s loads of benefits – no smelly socks, no long hours watching football, no PMSing, — u get my drift…..

Oh.. and 30’s the new cool… whatever we might say to the contrary when we are more sober….

What not to do on a Monday night is to boil beans….. and having boiled it,   to eat it with garri and loads of milk….  and sugar….. especially when you know you are lactose intolerant!

Yours truly fell foul of the law of commonsense.. and did all the above… As expected, the turbulence hit during the day.. cue squirming, frequent strolls to let bombshells fly off with reckless abandon in the more secluded regions of the work place, plus the occasional guided missile.. a well timed, low level release. Thankfully there was no presentation today or else Naija boy for mess up big time!

Anyways, the lesson was learned – avoid beans and garri and milk during the week – period. Irrespective of how much the stomach is pining for it….

Talent is the desire to practice…..It is that you love something so much that you are willing to make an enormous sacrifice and an enormous commitment to that, whatever it is — task, game, sport, what have you.

- Malcom Gladwell

Last year I closed out a fair bit of my plans – at least I was waaay above the average 12%. This year, I decided I would only do one thing – Live Dangerously.

Contrary to SisiBola’s expectations,  I am not heading out on a tour of duty to Iraq, or learning how not to use underwear, or packing my bags and running off to some exotic island with Halle Berry (IF she offers it, I’d be jumping, thank you very much!).  I am merely deciding to do things differently – plan less, reflect less, analyze less and DO more!

The hardest lesson I have had to learn on the Journey is that above a minimum level of planning and detail, the incremental safety is illusionary and counts for nothing. That goes against my grain!

So here I am, an intrepid bird-man, tottering on the edge…… and jumping off….

I had forgotten how to sing,
Blame fear, blame pain, blame sorrow deep within;

I’ve had these two lines in my head all week. I might have read them somewhere…. Or they might be the opening lines of a poem I have to write…. the first salvo fired by my dark and weary muse….

I once thought I was doing very well in my attempt to understand women folk – clearly I was reading from the wrong manual…. Doesn’t help that this bloke has been out of action for over a year….nearly two in truth! That was some ill – advised move I tell you……

Jesus said to forgive our brother seventy times seven times…. After  how many times does a failure to fulfill a promise to ‘call you back’ eventually consitute a tacit recommendation for you to scram from the scene?

Currently reading Chris Abani’s Becoming Abigail… I love the way he takes pain, takes sorrow and weaves it into a coherent whole… that, I find intriguing…

On the subject of work, open plan offices suck! I hate the fact that I am unable to shut my door and sleeeeep away when I want .. or snack on some well made banga soup from a flask, while keeping an eye on my computer…

Contrary to popular belief, I have my off days.. days when I doubt my ability..days when I am afraid, day when words get stuck in my throat and I pine away……I’ve had more than a few in the last year….. I’m getting stronger.. everyday – my current favorite song.. bar Miley Cyrus’s  – The Climb… .. I know, its so not Macho!!! Blame x-factor……..and Joe McElderry

I am officially an uncle again – cute little bloke – not seen him yet as usual… this Christmas, by fire by force, I will….

Dang… falentine is coming again o.. and the facebook people have started o.. Last year, I got an anonymous text… this year, if una try am, I go shoot persin o!!!!!!!

I think, the whole webexperience is losing its attraction for me…. I’ve not been on facebook in a bit… I barely keep up appearances on twitter these days……and i deleted my old chat email…. No I’m not PMSing (blokes don’t do that!).. Just whimsical….. in a quirky way…

My friend asked me a question — too lazy to think seriously about it…

Is it enough to do the right thing, or must we also do it for the right reasons?

Click to enlarge

HT to The Dockers Website via The Doing Hard Things Blog..

I have always consoled myself by declaring that I am musing over the words of the songs – dissecting the rhymes, pondering the nuances, or sometimes inserting my own words to see if they rhyme better, or if they mean more for me that way. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times when I came close; days when I actually shuffled from side to side as though I were part of an invisible choir from antiquity or nodded my head and plucked strings on an imaginary acoustic guitar in tune with the song being belted out.

Today was one of them days, perhaps the huge cup of coffee I drank this morning as I stepped out into 3 degree centigrade temperatures was culpable, or it was a genuine case of shopping therapy after I ogled my latest acquisition for the umpteenth time, or perhaps it was Charlie leading worship at church, and squeezing in one of my favourite Hillsong songs… Bottom line is I almost danced, but I didn’t.. And I’m left still wondering what dancing must feel like…