This is probably going to be the most
random post I have ever published on this blog. I don’t remember ever doing
this before on this space. No, I don’t. Every post, no matter how boring or
dumb (yeah, I know I have been forcing them down your throats) chops, I mean
chops so amply into my time. The writing and the days of proofreading and proofreading and proofreading that follows. Don’t mind those times I open with
something like ‘This morning’ or ‘Today’, I don’t start writing such posts the
same day. I don’t give up that easily on my posts; I brush them again and again
till they are almost-okay. They are never okay. That confession, I’m sure, must
have got you wondering what big deal it is to blog. As I write this, I know
this post is going to be an exception. It’s going to go up on the blog, hours
at most, after I’m done writing. Why? I think I just need to fill this space with
my sincere and raw thoughts NOW. This urgency didn’t just come of its own will.
A couple of the blog’s readers in the past few days have quizzed me on
the deafening silence here. My conscience too.
Let me say this, it is not for want or
lack of things to write. There are always things to write, to blog about.
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| Courtesy: http://www.influenceexpansion.com/ |
To say there aren’t things to write is
some kind of tough thing for me. I may not be the wittiest writer, but to pen a
small ode to either momma’s dishes or Umar Sidi’s poetry chapbook; a rant of a
few-hundred words; to do a shikini
appreciation of Asa’s Dead Again or
to just talk on and on about how much I love to hear Tye Tribbett scream; to
address incessant pesterings by friends and foes alike to go get a girlfriend;
to whine a little about T. B. Joshua or do some erotica story, aha, ought not
to be a problem. But what happens when doing all that is a problem? What
happens when one realises that sitting behind a computer all in the name of
blogging isn’t all that is to being fulfilled, that there is more to getting a
life? What happens when you realise that blogging does not foot your bills;
that it rather adds in its own little way, to the bills to be footed?
Yet, there are always things to write…
There are always things to write though
the nudge, passion or encouragement to write them may not always be present. Hey,
that’s me admitting what’s been happening to me in the past weeks. The reality
of trying to settle down in a new phase of one’s life is enough to overwhelm
one till that nudge, passion or encouragement recedes into some box. You remember the Martian child and his box?
But I’m breaking out of the box, I mean
it.
That said, there are times blogging
serves an escapist function. Call it a needed distraction from reality if you
like. Now is one of such times. And what I feel now, just one thing, is that
I’m filling a blank space, occupying it with thoughts, raw, and maybe anger.
Just me filling this space with me. And knowing that you are somewhere there to
tolerate me.
All I’ve said here and now is a build-up
to the purpose of this soooo random post: I appreciate everyone who has at one
time or the other come to read from this my small room and parlour on
blogosphere. Thanks for enduring my vewi vewi vewi boring, inconsistent and
emotional self.
