Thursday, June 30, 2011

Lethargy

Feels like one of those days, can't figure out what the issue is but I've kinda lost the spark to engage my brain cells in the mundane task of work. Just can't seem to find my spark so I need a catalyst really bad. Got a whole load of stuff to do before the year ends, personal targets to be met and I just kinda feel empty, like I'm a muscle car running low on gas. Gotta overcome the slump before it gets worse. Maybe I should blame it on the weather, aint a big fan of summer. People look at me like I'm nuts when I say this, don't blame me, I've had enough exposure to hot humid weather to last me a lifetime. The only good thing about summer is the opportunity to play soccer as often as possible.

Been thinking alot lately, a whole stack of saucers flying around in my mind. I feel sorry for my cerebral janitor sometimes, having to deal with all those broken ideas and dream fragments strewn across the hallway of my head must be a heavy task. I'm actually surprised that people read my blog, some can't seem to reconcile my blog with my outward personality, lol. Well, I'm a mystery to myself too, so don't be shocked, together we'll figure it out. In case you don't know I speak very fluent pidgin english and I can switch facades pretty easily. I need a vacation! Seriously, a 1 or 2 week getaway to a private hideout, free from the complexities of engineering and everything technical.

On to lighter news, July 4th is just around the corner, I definitely aint hosting any bbq party, can't muster the energy to host one. But I am surely looking forward to the chance to rest a lil bit, maybe watch tv series on Netflix, cook, listen to music... "laid back mood theory". I know I shouldnt be saying this, but...Happy 4th of July y'all (When in Rome, do as the Romans do)...Naija for lyf!

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Memories & Tears

Tears...

He stood by the window, forehead pressed into the cool smooth surface, hands in a knot behind him. The rain splashed against the window, dropped off the ledge and formed little puddles somewhere below. The rain drops were frenzied in their arrival, in contrast to the slow tears that streamed down his face. It felt eerie, the only sound noticeable was the clatter of the elements against the window, he stood perfectly still. The only movement you could make out in the dim silhouette of the room was of the fingers of time itching towards eternity. The imagery of tears can be fascinating, his eyes were tinged with absent-minded sadness, his vision blurred by the build up of the little pearls of water. Running down in an almost perfect elliptical trail, the stream of tears traced a path to the cleft of his chin and the little drops plunged to the soft rug beneath his feet. His reverie was broken by the deep sound of rumbling thunder, he cocked his right ear, recognition and awareness slowly filtering back in. A rueful smile changed the features of his looks, in one swift motion he ran the back of his hand across his face and backed away from the window...

Memories...
I was just a few months shy of my 4th birthday, chatting away happily with my brother and sister in the car. Dada was excited and smiling, I can't remember why I noticed but he seemed to be buzzing with new energy. He told us we were going to the hospital to see mama and the new baby. I wasn't so keen on the new baby but I wanted to see mama. I had noticed her absence and my simplistic brain couldn't recall why she had to leave and stay in the hospital overnight. I knew she worked in the hospital but she had been home for awhile since she started putting on weight on her belly. My sister had told me that mama was pregnant with that childish-grownup confidence she had and my brother didn't seem bothered so I figured that mama would eventually lose the weight. My sister kept chattering excitedly in the car, my mind drifted off to a thousand places, I guess I started dreaming as a kid.

We arrived at the hospital and I quickly jumped out of Dada's Peugeot 504, squinting into the hot Enugu sun. I walked in between Dada and Wiggy (my sister), swinging my short hands happily as I held their hands tightly. My brother (Ragfella) strolled alongside while we all kept up the mindless chatter and random observation of our surrounding. We finally got to Mama's room and I recall she looked a bit tired but happy to see us. She was carrying the new baby, swaddled in white blankets. Dada motioned for us to keep our voices low so as not to wake baby up. Wiggy's eyes lit up, I bet she was thinking up new ideas of how to include baby in her "empty milo and bournvita tin" cooking classes. I struggled to catch a glimpse of baby's face, leaning and stretching as far as my short legs would allow. Finally Mama lowered baby for us to see properly and I was fascinated. Baby looked fragile and very fair and the first thought that crossed my mind was that she was too small. I could'nt understand how she could be so small when Mama's stomach was so huge when she was carrying baby inside her. I didn't know exactly how to voice my observations so I waited for Ragfella to say something. I looked up to him, not just because he was taller than me, but he was older and wiser. He had a quizzical expression on his face too, then he said in Igbo, "ukwu nwa di ka ukwu okuko"...(translated as "this baby's leg is like a chicken's leg"). Dada and Mama burst out laughing and we all joined in.

I wasn't sure I could ask my own question, so I bottled it up. On the ride home, I kept wondering why I didnt see any toilet bowl or big bowl in mama's room, how else could she have "poo-pooed" baby out?

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

" U r like a clock", she said...

I lost to my cousin in a game of chess, I really don't know how she won because the rules were a bit too dysfunctional and the chess board had this surreal feel to it. Anyway, as soon as she said "Checkmate", I launched in to a mini speech on how it wasnt possible for her to have won since I decided the rules of the game. She didn't pay much attention to my agitated rambling, so I did the next best thing, I closed my eyes and switched to another dream...Itz funny how you realize that you are dreaming while in a dream, and the beautiful part is that you only awaken to that logic when things are not working your way in the dream!

For no logical reason, I remembered that my Dad had nice feet! It was the most ridiculous switch in the history of my temporal malfunctions, but that was what popped up in my head and I can't figure out why ( Later on when I woke up, I was able to trace the genesis of the random thought to Coco's fingers). Anyway, my papa has nice feet, there I said it! The next page in the dream was a gradual throwback to the days of my father's youth. I could see the young man that he was then, the well kept afro, clothing style of the 70s, the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket, cigarettes he didnt smoke but which were supposed to lay credence to the 70's swag back then...Dada was calm and laid back, that was definitely his style, I could see it in the dream...

Mama on the other hand was a fire brand! From a distance I could see the mischief and light dancing in her eyes, excitement bubbling underneath, reminds me of Olivia sometimes. I had fallen asleep reading Chimamanda Adichie's "The thing around your neck", so I guess the brief relapse of my dreams to the past was triggered by pages in the book. Turned over the next page and I was running shirtless in the village in pursuit of a lizard. My mind was trapped in the body of a 9 year old boy, and it took me awhile to realize that it was me. I could hear my brother's voice and a host of other voices too as we flung stones at the unfortunate lizards who were displaying espionage tricks beyond modern imagination. For a brief second, I understood the exhilaration of being an Avatar...

Then the next page was a blur. I've discovered that there is a fuzzy stage in every dream, like a black hole where information is hidden and never revealed. I pride myself in being able to remember and recount my dreams but I've never been able to read that blank page. God knows I have tried, I just havent found the trigger yet. I do believe that if we could explore our dreams then faith would be boundless. The slight vibration of my Blackberry feels like a ray of sunlight in the dream. It may sound odd that my heart is somehow synchronized to my BB but you wouldn't understand the chemistry. Anyway, a message came in and I smiled in my dreams, a few seconds later, my eyes fluttered open...

"The rooster never crows in the city..."

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Novocaine

My best friend from childhood is getting married soon. It feels surreal, I still recall when we were kids, feels just like yesterday. It just hit me, I recall when we were 12 or 13, on our way back from school, the car had broken down on Third Mainland Bridge Lagos, somehow we had managed to 'borrow' a copy of a Cosmo mag, don't ask me how we got it, but there were hot chicks on the mag and that was all we cared about. We swore that once we got to the golden age of 18, we'ld marry hot sexy models! I still remember like it was yesterday, the wide eyed look of boyish wonder as we gazed at the sultry brazilian models with streamlined bodies clad in bikinis and whispering our names from the pages of Cosmo...a young boy's dream world...

Sometimes I wonder how time flew by, whatever happened to the kid that was in me. In my dreams I search for him, throwing back the sands of time for a chance to gaze albeit for a second at the kid I once was years ago...I miss the age of innocence, the reckless joy of being young without a care in the world...the exhilaration of waking up on a Saturday morning with the knowledge that school was a factor you didnt have to deal with...I miss the excitement of christmas, the magic of the last seconds of the year, the frenzied excitement of fireworks...the clump I felt in the pit of my stomach when I tried talking to a girl, the innocence and naivety of shyness...I miss the "me" of years ago...

I look at my childhood pictures and a smile breaks out on my face...a tinge of sadness and at the same time joy at the overflowing beautiful memories...I stare at myself in the mirror and I can barely recognize the imagery peering back at me, brows creased by too much thinking, eyes dulled by the passage of time, eyes that once sparkled with excitement, now glazed over and camouflaged behind the tides of life, every scar on my body awakens a memory, they arent many so I can remember the history behind each one...Listening to Frank Ocean's "Swim Good"...nostalgic-mind-dulling music...the track is on repeat...I'm floating in a state of pseudo-music-induced tranquility...the kinda state where you can't really feel anything around you, definitely not the words I am typing...

Sometimes I feel like I'm caught in a dream, feelings of presque-vu, I havent seen the future but it feels like I have tasted it. In my mind, the future feels like sunset on the beach in Tel Aviv, only difference is that I'm never alone in my thots, she's always right next to me...dreams are never structured, that's what makes them beautiful, you can open one door in a dream and traverse from the verve of Israel to the pristine air of winter time in Ottawa...Can you picture an eagle's view from the skies? I'm on cloud 9...Novocaine...If I publish this post, forgive me...I did it in my dreams...