THE FIGHT FOR RELEVANCE
Recently, for the past one month at least, I’ve been wasting my life away. I really don’t know but life suddenly became uninteresting. Of course I know why but the “why” is not what I’m here to talk about. I’m here to talk about how self-indulgent writing has become a huge let-off for me. I’m so good at this that I can spend the next 2 hours writing non-stop and what I’d write will still make a whole lot of sense. This is exemplified by the fact that you’ve probably spent the last 60 seconds reading this and in reality, there’s been no blockbuster line that I’ve dropped here yet but I guess you haven’t felt bored at all. That’s what I’m all about. Writing is a huge let-off that if only I can add more energy, zeal and enthusiasm to what I like doing, I will go far.
My life has been so uncoordinated yet in the midst of this writing, I can sort it all out – with one piece. I may not have produced time for some very other important things (like my exams) but somehow when it comes to writing, I produce the time and means to drive what I like doing. I may be tired but never tired of writing.
I’m very versatile. I can stay here and tell you how Osama Bin Laden was captured and killed, how Geronimo was the code name the US used for Osama, how it was a courier that innocently led to Osama’s hideout and how he was buried in the Arabian sea and a group of people decided to scour the whole sea in a fruitless search for his body. I can even tell you about the famous Bermuda triangle, about how 5 jets went missing in the 50s, how ships have gone missing there, about the different theories ranging from electromagnetic forces to devilish forces. I haven’t even told you about how Christopher Columbus discovered America by mistake, how Rosa Parks started the racial revolution long before Martin Luther. I can then tell you about how Mandela really didn’t do anything special but still commands respect, how he was in charge of a terrorist organisation, how Martin Luther – a German – wrote 95 theses and pasted them on the church doors, those were the theses that revolutionized the church. What don’t I know? The fact that Israel is an incredibly small country surrounded by enemies? The fact that Abraham Lincoln didn’t really do much while in office? Or the fact that the great Socrates and Plato all came down here in Africa to learn? Yes, at the University of Timbuktu Mali. Did I forget to mention that I still get Goosebumps whenever Siphiwe Tsabalala’s goal against Mexico shows on TV with K’Naan’s waving flag playing at the background? (Will I ever forget the 2010 World Cup in South Africa? Maybe not), that’s probably why I still harbour faint hopes of being a top notch footballer; one that will gazump Lionel Messi’s records and become the undisputed best football player ever. I harbour these hopes despite the fact that I always get the highest amount of criticism anytime I play football, not because I have scored an own goal or missed an open goal chance but because it’s simply not there. Ah! Did I forget the fact that I also harbour hopes of being celebrated like Chinwetel Ejiofor and remove the last letter (or last 5 in my case) from my name and it’ll still be cool like he did? I still have hopes despite the fact that some people have called me shapeless whilst some have said I’ve got the Tall, Dark and Handsome specimen. Maybe I should point out that I was born in the nineties and ever since I was 2, I’ve been forced to make gut wrenching decisions, maybe I never really had the chance to be a kid – one that would play and break things and not even know it. I hope it’s not too late to be a kid again, ah! It’s late already. Will I not talk about how I criticise Nollywood in public but secretly admire the fact that they portray exactly what’s going on in our society – poor execution? The fact that Flavour has got a good voice but I’m trying not to hate him for his vulgarity, for hating him would mean ditching my mantra of “hating the sin and loving the sinner”? Or the fact that I really wanted to know what it was everyone was raving on about this Phyno dude that I once got all his songs, couldn’t understand what the hype was about then proceeded to delete the said songs and reverted back to my status quo of Lecrae, Trip Lee, et al. There are so many things that I’ve been occupied with. How about that intensive research I did on Monica Lewinsky? I mean, if you can get the president to sleep with you as an intern then you deserve to be googled right?
I haven’t stopped dreaming but the problem is, whose in control while those dreams go on? Soul or Body? This paragraph is the longest but it has got to be longer than all because scenarios and situations tell stories about the man. Oh! The fact that my whole life is hinged on my Christianity – not the religion one – that anytime I’m at a low, my whole life crumbles? The fact that the people I love don’t show me love back and that I’d rather have to make do with being friendzoned whilst the fitting irony is that there are so many others willing to die for me just to get a glimpse of my love and yet I pay no attention to them. Maybe that’s why the others don’t pay any attention to me then. Even. The fact that I could go for that “Who wants to be a Millionaire” game show and – just like that Slumdog Millionaire kid – answer all the questions correctly based on my life experiences.
You see where the problem is? I don’t really know anything yet my brain decides strongly against this sentence. My brain tells me I’m a genius but my soul says something different. My soul tells me I’m just an only child whose value has risen as a result of scarcity rather than worth. That I don’t really know much but rather rely on intuition for most of the things I do. I’m regularly torn between who to follow, even while writing this, I’ve carried out instructions given from both sides. My souls says I’m in crisis, but my brain says I’m in a great shape; that I’m simply taking control. With this kind of conflict raging on in my insides, how do you really expect me to behave? The brain has an audience of its own likewise the soul as I know there are a whole lot of people who really get pissed off at just my sight; why? I followed the soul whilst there’s the other set who absolutely love me for being nothing. That’s also the soul but how about those that absolutely adore me because they feel I’m a genius who is eloquent in speech, tall in height, dim dark and lovely. Where do I place those people? Under the brain. Answering that question is like answering the question of how a mosquito with its tiny proboscis can pierce the skin of a thick human.
Did I forget to also mention that I’m a rap enthusiast…90% of the songs in my phone is rap; gospel rap of course. But here’s the puzzle, I hardly hear any of them. So is it for a lack of trying or for a lack of capacity? The fact that I once tried to do rap and the kind of mockery I got gave me a hiding. Let me even state the obvious fact that I force myself to believe I write so well (Ah! The brain just reminded me of my ineptness). It will surprise so many that these kinda doubts dwell within but the riddle is that that last sentence was fuelled by the soul who has almost nothing good and Mr. Brain is here to counter it. Just like the rap artist Lecrae portrayed in his song Rebel vs Gravity, I’m possibly also trying to lay bare the phantasms and pedantic tendencies of the complete human. Alas! When people talk to me at different times, they may possibly get different reaction, for times when my Brain controls 70%, they may see the “Good Man” but for days when the Soul takes 60%, they may encounter “Miracle Roch”, the guy that tries so hard to be a perfectionist that he ends up doing nothing at all. Such tragedy that he tries so much to live that he ends up destroying the life of the poor being it inhabits.
It’s a battle, I haven’t really said anything but there was once this story of a man whose house was on fire and when the fire rescue team came, they found him lying on top of his bed – burning bed. When they asked him how he got on the bed, he simply muttered; “it was on fire when I lay on it”. Till today, no one knows why he did what he did but I guess it is what it is. The exact same way no one knows how Aspirin works but it has been shown to cure whatever it is it cures is the same way this writing goes. And guess what? I haven’t even written the last paragraph and my life already feels better but who am I listening to? (Cue the first paragraph)
Now here’s this conflict; my brain tells me I’ve really written a unique piece of literature but my soul says I’ve just bored the reader to death not for a lack of trying but because it’s simply not there. I leave that in your hands to judge.
…on Twitter I own a mediocre account with the handle @Mr_GudMan.