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.

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. 

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