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New Year’s Blues
Tag: write
Chocolates
“Life is like a box of chocolates.
You never know what you’re going to get.“
– Forrest Gump, 1994
I used to think I liked all chocolates, then I grew up and got to test and taste out different versions of chocolates to start to develop some sort of taste preference. You know, sorting out the dark chocolates from the really dark chocolates. The difference between, say, one of Cadbury’s products and a trusted Ferrero Rocher.
And eventually, life stopped being like a box of random chocolates, but more of a chase to find the right box of chocolates to make things sweet. Like finding a needle in a bunch of haystacks.
Some of the boxes start off sweet, and then the more you eat through the box, the more the bitterness begins to fill your senses and you struggle to even remember the sweet beginnings.
Others begin bitter but you read the box labels and you know that there’s a sweet chocolate somewhere in it. You just don’t know when you’re going to get it. So, you eat through the box of bitter after bitter bites, holding on to that phantom hope that you stumble on the sweet bit, even if its just one bite.
Then, you have the boxes that are truly random. The rollercoaster box of bitter and sweet, sour and sugary. Every bite is a different experience, an emotional ride of whatever it is Life can throw at you. On some days, its just pure sweetness from the morning to night. And then on other days, its a straight week of bitterness. I mean, the bitterness varies and some days are better than the next but the taste stays consistent.
Life is like a box of chocolates. And I’m currently eating through one.
And it has been an experience.
Nostalgia, Part 1 of ???
I awoke this morning with the penchant to write something on here. As to what that ‘thing’ was supposed to be, I genuinely had no idea but I decided it would be worth opening up the blog in the first place and seeing where it led to.
And just as I looked at the title, I remember that I was watching an ‘old’ movie from years back that I really enjoyed even though by today’s standards it would be probably seen as mediocre.
Cue the lightbulb moment.
For the better part of this year and most of the last, I’ve come to accept that nostalgia is one hell of a strong emotional feeling. Heck, I believe its the driving force of most people firmly placed in the ‘Millennial and above’ block. Because, we just CAN’T stop thinking about the past and how supposedly good it was.
For this post, I’m going to focus on movies.
There was a point in time when we used to have a lot of movies coming out by the droves. I was young, I understand, and as such, using the word like ‘droves’ could be a mistake but regardless. To my young eyes, we had options. Dramatic movies, romantic movies, numerous action movies. All with dubious plots but we enjoyed it. We revelled in it.
And now, it’s somehow harder to enjoy the newer movies in my 30s.
Of course, the general argument would be the over-abundance of CGIs. Or that the scripts for some of these movies are downright poor (which holds some weight but it’s not like older movies were better). A certain sect of people would say its become too ‘woke’ which is more of an indictment of the kind of people they are.
But why?
Why is this a common thing now? Why is art enjoyed differently? Or rather, why do we prefer the older stuff more than the newer stuff?
I’m currently rewatching “The Forbidden Kingdom” which had Jet Li and Jackie Chan starring in it. I remember the hype building around it. Fans clamouring for the first on-screen pairing of the two arguably biggest martial art stars in the same movie. I remember counting down to the release because of the sheer excitement of it.
The movie released and while the plot itself was nothing to write home about, I loved everything about the movie. To be honest, it’s one of my favourite martial arts movie to date. I was young, I didn’t know much and my only worries were passing my exams and getting a good grade enough to attend the university of my choosing.
So maybe here’s my first answer.
Older movies were better because we didn’t have to think about much other than the simple stuff. The world wasn’t falling apart, we weren’t being inundated with the numerous evils taking place around the world.
Our worries were little and our ‘world’ was small, warm and cosy.
And for us? At that time? That was enough.
One Month Down, 11 More to Experience
January is over.
We are now in the lover’s month. The month of Romance, in the depth and breadth of the word. In any case, the year is moving fast and we have to move in turn to not be left behind. Because what is life, if not constant change?
In any case, February is here. We are in our second month, and I feel like this is when most start to feel like the year is progressing and their plans are not panning out like they said they would at the beginning of the year in their numerous resolutions. And it is something I think about. Something I feel.
This… idea that if things aren’t done in time, we are automatically behind and at risk of it never being done ever again. A mental block that most people will stumble on because we can’t help it.
For most, we cower in our fear and our supposed loss. We drink in our failures and spiral as our minds start to play the familiar record of “What’s the point?”. We watch as our peers march forward in confidence and we can only hope to become like them because we don’t think we are good enough anymore.
We forget that Life isn’t a race. And that there really is no worth in comparing our paths with someone else. And that, plans change and all we can do is change with it. That we must remain flexible to deal with the dynamic nature of Life.
It’s so very easy to say, much more harder to internalise and believe. But it is something we must do, so that we can take the next steps towards the journey we are all individually on.
To just take one more step forward, regardless of how things are.
That right there… That’s bravery.
TO MORE INTERESTING THINGS…
I say interesting, but it really isn’t.
I spoke about “Beta: The Hierarchy, Book 2” and my plans to get it out sometime this month and that is still on track. As usual, this will be self-published as well as I think I want to continue releasing this series like this for a bit longer.
I’m about 26 chapters in, with 4 more in the bag to write out, after which we start the rounds of edit and fine-tuning that I believe the book needs as I’ve seen a few things that need looking over, adding and all that ‘authorism’ (this is not a word) stuff. I do hope to finish writing this weekend, so that I can start putting things in place, but that is Future me’s problem.
All in all, the plan is slightly behind my personal targets but I’m going to push on to ensure I get it out so that I can prepare the next book on my list that I want released this year.
As usual, I hope your day and your year has been going well so far. Sound off in the comments if you want to catch up with me 😀
Serenity.
It’s only been two weeks (give or take a few days) into the new year and it’s been a relatively spicy one. Wars (plural for emphasis) are still going on, recession, economy is in the bin and Katt Williams decided to talk on a podcast which promptly set fire to my twitter timeline for a few days.
With so many things happening, it is so easy to get overwhelmed with everything all at once and suddenly shut down from the weight and supposed responsibility of it all. I mean, after all, isn’t it right for one to believe in the good of people? To believe that justice will prevail? That life has we know it will be alright?
An anecdote.
It was a late Thursday when I went for dinner with a friend of mine a few years back. A confidante of sorts, who helped me sort out my thoughts the way a therapist usually would (or so I hear). We sat and caught up from our university days, traded stories of love lives before settling on the woes of adulthood itself.
I remember lamenting to her about life and how tired I was about the things I felt and how it all just felt heavy on my heart. About my relationships with people, with things, with the general existential dread of adulthood and I remember her look at me and she said (paraphrasing here)
“You feel to deeply. You need to feel things lightly.”
“Feel lightly? I don’t understand” I asked.
“You don’t have to let things get to you. You can just let it wash over you. Hence, ‘feel lightly’. It’s not everything that you need to feel so deeply.”
–
I think about that moment more often than not. Because it posed a newer more relevant question to me which I have had to ask myself on a relatively consistent basis. What are the things to feel deeply? What are the things to feel lightly? How do we decide which is which?
“God, give me grace to accept with serenity
the things that cannot be changed,
Courage to change the things
which should be changed,
and the Wisdom to distinguish
the one from the other.“
To quote the Serenity Prayer. I find that in this life, that’s the way I’ve been fortunate to stay atop of it all. The world is and has always been complex. We can only hope to do what we can.
Something For the Week’s End
So, January’s in full swing and to be completely honest with you, I’m still on holiday even though it sadly ends tomorrow. It’s been lovely to just rest, sleep and play copious amounts of Monopoly (which was interesting as you all know) before work restarts and we get dragged back into the humdrum of 9-5s and scheduled works.
But in the meantime, it’s been a lovely time for family and the relative mental silence. Plus a little time to reflect is always great. Hope your new year has been great so far. It’s always exciting to start something new.
For this year, I want to write more. So, I’m going to get back into trying to blog more regularly. I’m thinking something on the Thursdays but I don’t want the excitement of my new prospects to get to me, so we’re playing it by ear.
In essence, this is the first of the new year.
To start off, ‘Beta’ is almost done in writing. To give some context, it’s book two to an existing series of mine aptly named “Alpha”. Don’t ask me why I went with those names. It was cool (and I still think it is :P).
Alpha is a vampire/sci-fi/thriller book about, well… vampires. It began off a prompt and ended up being the first book I finished writing even though it wasn’t the one I published first. It was good practice and I’m hoping to do it justice with the sequel.
‘Beta’ is almost complete after which it’s going to be edited and re-jigged around to ensure it is an exhilarating read and better than what came before it. I plan for it to be a trilogy so after ‘Beta’, I’ll be playing one more time in that world before putting it aside until another time. We shall discuss the other book later.
Secondly, as a recommendation of a book to read, here’s one for you. It’s one of the books from the derby and to be completely honest with you, I really did love reading it. I’m not going to say much about it but I think it’s worth a read. Details below.
Lastly, I… lol, there’s not lastly. I think I’ve covered what I want to cover for this post.
But here’s a question to you (and please do answer)… what are your plans for the year? Anything grand? Anything simple? Something in-between? It would be nice to know!
See you all in the comments!
Hi All! Another Derby Blogpost
It’s been a week since my last post and it feels good to feel like there’s some sort of consistency to posting once more. So, I’m going to try and keep that same energy moving forward, in the midst of all the numerous things I’m currently working on.
And what does that mean in the grand scheme of things for this website and my blogging habits moving forward? Hopefully, that I get to share more about how the book writing is going!
In any case, I hope you’ve all been alright and your week has been great.
For today’s post, just wanted to highlight a bit more on the derby. Partly because I took part (and I’m trying to get some extra traction because that’s always cool) but also because I believe it’s a wonderful event that deserves some extra love and attention moving forward. Which, interestingly enough, is something I should have been doing from its inception.
I’ve been reading through the released books as well and been very pleasantly surprised at the quality of work that the other authors have put out in this third iteration of the derby.
I’ve got a few more to go through before I start adding my reviews properly, so that no one gets to suss out my identity ;). I would like to hear what you think though.
Have you read any of the books on the list?
Have you seen anything that interests you?
What kind of genre do you like?
I would really love to hear all your thoughts. Anyway, to end this all… more work is going on Alpha’s sequel and I should have more to share on that book very soon. I have another book series in the works, passed through an editor and currently back with me for some more story work.
And I genuinely can’t wait to share more of it all with you.
Have a great week!
One Of Those Rare Thursday Posts…
It’s been a long time since I’ve had to write something other than a story or the occasional tweet but this has been coming nonetheless. I remember the times when I used to get ready to blog or muse about something profound but those days are few and far between… With the state of the world and life and cost of living and all that.
In any case, I’m back now. I’m here.
That said… Is there a reason why I’m posting today after such a long period of silence? Yes. Marketing.
You see… There was an idea to bring together a group of of remarkable people to see if they could become something more. To see if they could work together when we needed them to, to write the stories that we never could.
A couple of some writing folks I know created a publishing press and with that publishing press, they began something of an event that I have come to really love over the three years(?) that it has been run. And, believe me when I say its a lovely event.
Allow me to introduce you all to “The Inkfort Publishing Press’, Derby 2023”
So, what is this all about?
In essence, this is an annual event hosted by Inkfort where authors are challenged to hone their skills, practice their marketing, get some feedback, and maybe even earn a bit of money for their efforts.
Derby Authors get a random cover, with an illustrious anonymous pen name and then we’re given a set of time to write a story based on the cover, edit, publish and market to see how well we do. And now that the books are published (well, most of them), I’m hear to share them with you.
I took part as well, under a interesting name and with an interesting premise and I wrote a book on an interesting thing. I’d really be interested to see if anyone can figure out who I am.
All in all, the books are out on Amazon and some other sites, if you’re interested. But most importantly, you can check out the list of the books here on Goodreads
Does this mean I’m back to the random story and poetry slam I’m used to? Maybe… But let’s take it slow for a while longer. I promise to return in full.
Have a nice day and hopefully, a lovely weekend!
Grey Clarity on a Cold Evening
Life is funny, sometimes. A downright comedian when you truly begin to see how it operates. How it flows and ebbs. How it pulls and pushes. A Joker, to be succinct.
And whenever I said this, I’m generally met with momentary confusion and awkward reluctant acceptance especially after I add the caveat that I have at a ready for situations like this.
“Life is funny sometimes because all you can do is laugh… Because if you don’t laugh, well… then it breaks you down.”
Isn’t it interesting how one of the most important, underrated emotions that no one seems to talk about is “Disappointment”
I personally think its one of the stronger negative emotions. Not anger or frustration or pain or grief.
Disappointment. /dɪsəˈpɔɪntm(ə)nt/
sadness or displeasure caused by the non-fulfilment of one’s hopes or expectations.
“to her disappointment, there was no chance to talk privately with Luke”
Its a Thursday night (as of this writing) and I’m sequestered on a table at the corner of a beautifully decorated hall to celebrate a friends traditional Nigerian wedding.
The colours are cool; Purple, adorned with white flowers sets and green flowery background around the couples’ chair. A dance floor, white with gold trimmings with the print names of my friends. The music is loud and inviting. Different notes, different tones and the adults are all enjoying themselves in the centre, dancing their night away in joy and laughter.
The joy I feel for my friends, the couple, is immense. Its been a while coming, especially with how the pandemic has derailed everything.
And it is in this immense joy, that I find myself being disappointed.
Disappointed with plans.
Disappointed with Life.
Disappointed with people.
Disappointed in things.
Disappointment like grief.
This, ever-expanding sea of apathy and diet nihilism that I’ve fallen into but I’m not drowning. It’s not choking me. Instead, it wraps itself around me like a breathing apparatus. I can see through the ripples. I can breathe through the tube in my mouth. My movements are delayed but I’m not bound or restrained against my will.
And its because of this disappointment-like-grief that I have to laugh in the face of life being life. In the face of life being volatile. Because if I can’t laugh at the intricacies and idiosyncrasies of life, I lose the only defence against the apathy in front of me.
And that’s the one thing I can’t allow.
After all, if life ebbs and flows like the sea then I’ll be eventually washed up on a beach somewhere. Preferably with a cocktail in one hand and my wife’s hand in the other. Some summer wear to enjoy the season and a hammock so that we can gaze at the blue. And life would be good again.
Until the next tidal wave hits.
A Good Death – Part 5
I looked back at the building in the distance, my face empty of all emotions. The journey to the building and everything that had happened in the corridors of the building weighed heavily on my heart.
After my brother’s death at my hands and my axe, Ogun had tapped his finger on his armrest once more, shaking the both of us. He was dead. I was not. But somehow, that made me worthy of god’s blessing.
“You have proven yourself,” the shaman had said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “And now, you will be a warrior like none other. A warrior like mighty Ogun himself.”
I had simply nodded then. I don’t think there was anything else I could have done. My eyes had remained on the lifeless body of my brother as his blood spread over the smooth metal floor of Ogun’s throne room.
“Now, you must return to face the Raga!” the shaman had said.
I had turned to face her, my hand tightening on the axe lodged in my brother’s head. Before I could react, she shouted a word and waved her hands towards me and I was suddenly thrown through a passage, out of Ogun’s room.
By the time I hit the ground, I was outside the building.
On my belt was my small name-day knife and the axe I had used to fight and win. Perhaps that was supposed to be god’s blessing. I wasn’t sure. It didn’t make sense. And for a while, I didn’t want it to make sense.
Perhaps if I could treat everything as a fever dream, I could fool myself to wake up eventually.
I tore my eyes away from the building and looked down the road that cut through the forest we had journeyed through to reach Ogun’s temple. The road looked long and windy but I knew somewhere in my heart that it was the way home. I glanced at the four other children that had been spat out from the veil across the temple entrance.
We locked eyes but didn’t speak. There was nothing to say that hadn’t been said on their faces. The sacrifice was steep enough.
I sighed and looked away from the haggard faces next to me and took a step onto the smooth road leading home. Perhaps it was all just a fever dream and I was returning to the waking lands.
—
The village was in flames when we exited the forest by the mahogany tree. Cries and shouts of help filled the air immediately. The buildings I had grown up with were burning down and before we could move from our spot, we watched as the village elder ran past us before collapsing on the floor.
One of the children with me moved forward to check the elder before stopping as blood began to gather underneath his unmoving body. We all understood what that meant. I broke away from the group and began running towards my house.
Perhaps I could find my parents and escape the burning village.
I ran, my legs propelling me forward faster than I had ever traveled in my life, through the burning village to my home. The cries and shouts of help were now mixed with the sound of steel and a strange sound that reminded me of thunder.
Just as I turned the corner leading to my house, I heard a man shout in a language unknown to me just as the strange sound filled the air once more and I stopped. Ahead of me, dressed in strange clothes was a monster of pale flesh and piss-colored hair. The Raga.
My hand felt for the axe on my belt and I yelled in rage as I ran towards the monster brandishing my axe. The monster turned slowly, suddenly aware I was behind it but before they could react, my axe removed their legs from underneath them and they screamed in pain as they fell to the ground.
I spun, knocking the weapon from their hand as I stood over them, my small frame contrasting against theirs. The monster locked eyes with me, blue gems sparkling with anger and pain and it began to crawl away from me but I denied it the escape.
My axe caught in the light of the sun and the monster flinched, bringing their arms out to shield themselves but it didn’t matter to me. I raised the axe up and brought it down as my mind flashed to the memory of Sogo’s death.
I split the monster’s head, blood and head matter splattering on me. The monster’s arms fell to its chest and, placing my leg on its chest, I freed the axe from their body.
I looked at the unmoving frame of the monster before turning and rushing to my home. The house wasn’t on fire but there was a sense of dread hanging in the air. I couldn’t see anyone at the entrance of the house and with the village burning and a few in battle against monsters, I couldn’t help but worry about my parent’s wellbeing.
As I moved to circle the house, I gasped as I saw two bodies embracing each other close to the side of the house. There was a monster standing above them, brandishing its strange weapon at them.
The monster snarled and said something in their strange language before the weapon cracked like lightning in the sky. Raga. I screamed as I began to run towards it. The monster turned to face me, recognition sparkling in its eye but it didn’t hesitate. The weapon in its hand spoke and I felt something hit me in the chest.
The force was enough to stop me for a few minutes as I looked down to find small metal pieces pushing against my dark skin. I looked up at the monster and back at my chest as the strange weapon spoke with thunder once more. My body jerked backward once more, another piece of metal pushing against me.
It was then that I understood what Ogun had done for me.
I heard the monster say something that sounded like a curse and it pulled my attention back to them. The monster lowered its weapon, pushing some metal pieces against the side of the long spear. Without waiting, I used all my strength to throw my axe towards the monster and they reacted far too slowly to stop it.
The axe head sunk into the space between their neck and shoulder, and after a cry of pain, the monster sank to its knees, meeting my gaze. I walked up to it, removing my axe from its neck as blood spluttered out. The monster was dead. I was alive.
I turned to face the bodies of my parents, unmoving as they embraced each other in death. Hot tears leaked from my eyes as I looked at the axe in my hand. Blood dripped from the axe-head as if it too shared in my sorrow.
That was the last time I cried.
—
I forcibly removed the axe from the body of the Raga resting on the rock he had died on. My father and the tribe had called them monsters. Perhaps they are. Perhaps not. It stopped mattering when I stopped counting the bodies that fell to my axe.
As far as they were concerned, the monsters of years past were nothing more than a different tribe. One with far more resources and power to wipe out the tribes it saw inferior to it.
Years of battle and hunting had shown me a lot but did nothing to dull the ache in my heart and the hunger of the axe on my belt. They were the enemy. The disease that had scoured the lands of my people, reducing them to nothing but forest dwellers even as they flourished in the lands of our fathers and forefathers.
Perhaps they didn’t all deserve death. Perhaps not. As far as my weapon and I are concerned, the Raga cannot exist while I do. Not while the rest of my clan sleep in the terror that they might not see the next day.
The children of Ogun call me a great warrior but I hate the title. It fills me with memories I would rather forget. After all, my father used to say a good death was the end of a great warrior.
I don’t want to be a great warrior. I am not searching for a good death. Until I end the Raga with my own hands and this cursed axe by my side, I don’t plan to die.
Not one bit.
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