Stop being tormented by everyone else's  reaction to you. Some people will love you, some will hate you, and none of them will have anything to do with you.

I am not afraid of my truth and I will not omit pieces of me to make anyone comfortable.

Let's Rather Be Happy

 

Happy Thursday! : D

So, I’ve been panic-stricken these past few days and drained of every motivation to post anything. 

Following the launch of Koko Hill, I have received tons of accolades that were supposed to be a source of fortification for me, but instead and very unlike me, I got cynical. I felt this massive fear. Fear of failure, precisely. Fear that I may not be able to sustain the tempo, and then these rhetorical questions started accumulating in my head, “what have I gotten myself into”? “Why did I bother”? “Can I really do this”? “Will I be able to meet up with these expectations”? And so on.

I didn’t have answers, but deep down, I knew I needed a sharp thump to snap out of my mood and regain my mojo. 

So, this morning, I got chitchatting with my crazy and ever sarcastic friend, I relayed my feelings, and just about what I needed, without embellishments or sympathy, she said, “dey dia na, fuck up and you’re finished”!

Boom! I experienced this rush of enthusiasm and vitality all over me once again and an exceptional inspiration to write about this topic. 

Perhaps, it may just be the thump you need to get you out of your own doubts and forlorn.

In my pursuit of happiness and inner peace, I discovered two things matter

1.       Confidence in what God says about me

2.       Confidence in myself which comes from believing in Number 1

Nothing else matters to me, not the negative opinions of other people, especially the ones who contribute nothing to my welfare.

To be happier and at peace with myself, I recognized I needed to be in control of how events unfolded in my life, or at least, respond to the ones beyond my control proficiently and gracefully. My priority being basically to be deaf and blind to other people’s negative vibes and drama.

Sometime ago, my colleague whined about how some group of gossips targeted and spoke bad about her, not minding she always had been cordial to them. At first, I was tacit, but deeply, I pitied her, because she was obviously bothered and had wrinkles of worry on her forehead. Something she may have been oblivious about. Consequently, she lost her composure, became clumsy and overwhelmed with duties she normally performed effortlessly. 

Her concerns are not strange to me, because from my encounters with people on the social media and loved ones, was the awareness that many of us live the part of our lives to please everyone but ourselves, because we are terrorized by their opinions about us if and when our actions oppose their expectations. Therefore, we take ‘idiots’ doling out ‘idiotic’ opinions seriously.

I believe in what I told her.

We should stop caring about other people’s thoughts about us so much.There are opinions and criticisms we need not take seriously. Now, I don’t mean promoting our opinions above others or ignoring professional and purposeful advise or criticisms that will better our future. Those ones (that is) that are meant to construct, not demolish. Benefit, not harm. Enhance, not deteriorate. Energize, not wear down, and so on. In each situation, if the former is not the essence, rise above the rubbish and  keep running with your dreams and visions. 

Know this too; malicious gossips and criticisms are the tools employed by miserable people to consign you to their states of misery. DON’T LET THEM!!!

Get back into the driver's seat of your life. Be yourself, because in the end, you will still be criticized regardless of whom you chose to be. 

So, I say be criticized for being you.

All the best.

The Mystery Man

I can vaguely remember.

As I entered the hall, I felt his gaze on me from the corner of my left eye. Still standing I turned to my left towards the spot he laid, and our eyes met. He appeared amused, and I wondered why. The eye contact lingered till I freed my eyes to observe the busy and packed hall. It’s a big hall and the aura felt like there were picnics going on. People laid on mats in segments talking and laughing into each other’s faces. 

I noticed a middle aged woman in a sleeveless white chiffon blouse and denim shorts just about 20 feet away from the spot I was standing. She was kneeling towards a blue medium sized cooler. She tried to open it while she spoke anxiously on the phone.   

However, none of the activities that went on in the hall interested me like I pretended it did, so I returned my gaze to the nameless man who at that point still felt like a stranger, even though he still stared with a knowing grin.

He reminded me of Lamar Odom. Both of them were about the same size. He also reminded me of Angelo from BBA the Chase. His dreadlocks were secured in folds. In addition, he wore a loose singlet over a pair of moderately baggy jeans trousers with grey elastic edges.

Automatically, I walked towards the spot he laid, at that point on his left side, supported by his left arm. As I advanced closer, he turned over an open book he had his right palm on and sat up to a sitting position, wrapped around his legs so perfectly like a yogi, and in the friendliest grin said “hello Koko” as he extended his right hand a bit upwardly. 

Apparently, we were supposed to know each other. Well, he appeared to know me, but his face still wasn’t clear, but it was difficult to ignore his eyes. They were too kind and intimate to belong to a stranger. 

So, I let my suspicion slide. I stooped, offered my right hand and our hands joined in the most buttery motion. How could a man’s palm feel so soft? I mused. 

My eyes wondered to his bare-hard-to-notice feet. If I just saw only his feet, I would have thought they belonged to a yeti. Huge! My scrutiny continued to the grey elastic edges of his trousers which i could barely notice as they were tucked away from my full glare. However, i still noticed some grim of dirt on the elastic edges. I looked at his face and felt a strong urge to ask if he was a fishermam, because i was starting to assume that was his profession.

Just then, I saw mouth movements, so I switched off my thoughts, and heard him say “sit”. With no thoughts or objection, I sat. 

He continued with some vague questions about Calabar festival. The mention of Calabar festival however made the difference. 

That was our initial point of contact, i remembered. 

He was with his friend while I was with my colleague.

I remembered he gave two free tickets to me and my colleague, so we could watch the maiden dance.

Earlier, I and my colleague had watched the maiden dancers file inside a hall in their glorious cultural and colourful regalia. We were both fussy when we were barred from entering the hall without our tickets. 

So, Mr kind eyes swooped in and saved the situation.

Okay, this is just a dream! 

Like the unconscious type you can’t help when you’re asleep. 

I’ve been having a lot of those wild dreams lately.

Not too long ago, I was this exceptional abstract artist exhibiting her masterpiece to Vincent Van Vogh. I still CANNOT understand what business Van Gogh had in my dream. I am centuries out of his generation, and I have only seen a self-portrait of him, and definitely not the face I would want to see in my dream if I had a choice.

It makes it wackier knowing in reality, I can’t even sketch to save my life. 

But it was a pleasure to have met a man of his reputation anyway.

(Perhaps you too have had one of those wild dreams you hate or love to wake up from. You can share in the comment section for the laughs.) 

 

Demystified finally

And my little Football Whiz Kid prank ruffles some feathers. My friend thinks my “beef” (his exact words) with Van Persie couldn’t have been for any other reason than my hate for Manchester United. Sentimental fellow, that one. Well, after I laughed off the insinuation, it quickly hit me. All along, right from his Arsenal days, something about Persie peeved me, but I was never able to place my hands around what it was.

I gave my peeve a little more thought, and my Tiny Toon memories came flashing back.  It got clearer, and I was finally able to put the puzzle pieces together. Growing up, I was obsessed with Tiny Toon video game. There were Sonic and Mario, but neither of them fascinated me like this one. I would pull the table too close to the telly, played my time and eyesight away till tears literally rolled down my face. Intermittently, I would take one hand off the pad to wipe off the tears, and then went on to dry palm on my cloth. And this course of action happened in split seconds, just so I’d get on as fast as possible with my game. Pressing the pause button or dropping the pad were out of the question, because then you would remind waiting lions it was time for their Mortal Combats. It’s best the days I got home before everyone else, because that’s when I would front my “I got here first, so…”attitude.

From stage to stage, the bunny ate carrots, increased its life span, and killed enemies that tried to attack it and reduce its life span as a result. That’s basically bunny's mission in the adventurous world of Tiny Toon. I would be smart to advance to new stages with my life span intact, because that way I had enough lifetimes to survive in tougher situations. Right before the tougher situations set in, there were the ascending lilac birds that attacked unpredictably. Lilac bird was the only bird I desired to catch alive, clip its wings, drop it on the floor, and gleefully watch it struggle for freedom. As mature as I am now,  a little vengeful part of me still relishes the idea of torturing the lilac bird.

Like a sword, its wings awkwardly and annoyingly extended to attack, that no matter how much I tried to protect bunny, what always followed was “wewewewe” (that’s actually me mimicking the sound effect whenever bunny got knocked out) and then the tiny stars circled like a halo over its head. A lot of times, I felt frustrated, other times, I empathized with bunny as I envisioned the stabbing pain (similar to getting cut by the rotating blades of an electric fan) those wings may have caused it. I failed bunny too many times at this level. If I was lucky to have him around, the ace that was my brother came to the rescue, jumping on their heads while I cheered in the background, as I watched them drop into nothingness. I especially struggled at this point before I finally learnt to advance on, and when I did, it was already mission accomplished for me.

Van Persie reminds me of the lilac birds.  Just like the birds' wings, the Persie arms also spread out so rigidly whenever he’s on the run with the football while he wades his way through the opponents. Pair that with the gait he runs in, and the result could be a walking lilac bird. I sought for a picture of the lilac bird in vain throughout last night, but today, I luckily found video clues and took screen shots. You can compare for yourself.

That''s the lilac bird in the middle

And Van Persie:

I almost left out these two

Uncanny right? Or do you still think I'm nuts? Again, bird lilac:

Bunny wasn't taking chances at all this time

Again Van Persie:

 

Wait on still, it gets better:

That's the lilac bird going down after bunny jumped on its head

Gerrard puts Van Persie in his place too

 See you, friend on Friday!

Football Whiz Kids

I stumbled across these pictures and my imaginations ran wild.

 

Aguerro probably got into a fight with another kid on the block over who owned the ball - got punched in the left eye, lost the ball, but was still not backing down.

There are kids I wish never grew up. 

There's no placating this lad. Whatever happened at home must have been too serious, that appearing in a line-up couldn't cheer him up like his parents thought.

 

Played good football in his peak. With the line of trophies behind him (probably), I could tell he did too as a child..

Who would have thought Iniesta actually had a head full of hair as a kid.  Playing for Barcelona really took a toll on that head.

 

Here's that kid I always want to smack just for the fun of it, and I don't know why.

To Be Continued......

A Day to Always Remember

If I was ever going to forget the exact date I started blogging, I know to just Google the 2013 FIFA Under 17 World Cup and find my answer. It's been an eventful day indeed. I'm so proud of these players.

Here We Are!

Hey, you! You made it here. You are already my favourite. Now, let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time, few months ago, I received a call from my cousin. A call that triggered off the conception of this blog. He asked if I knew anyone who would be interested to contribute write-ups for a blog. At that moment, I didn't think of myself. Or rather I was too lazy to want to think of myself. You know that contented feeling when you're in your limited comfort zone, suppressing the desire to move another inch, even though you know there are extra miles that need to be covered.  Because I didn't want to overlook the opportunity completely, I told him I'd find someone.

How did that go? Well, three weeks ago, I found my forte. And when I did, it turned out, there wasn't even a ready blog to start writing on. So, I started from the scratch, battled for days with internet technologies, through hazy-frustrating blog jargon and protocols, messed up a lot of times, started all over again, and here we are. Like I already mentioned, it's still a work in progress.

While I wish to make money blogging, that isn't all there is to Koko Hill. I have a dream, and this blog is the first step to actualizing it. You will know in due time. Meanwhile, you're welcome to agree or disagree with my silly opinions on football, events, music, living, just about anything.

I'll be here every weekend, so we will have more stuff to thank God it's Friday. It's a date, so don't stand me up.

Special thanks to you, fashionable Onyii Ukorah and sagacious Chinedu for making it a lot easier.

Thanks, Onyeka for that call.

To you already reading this, I LOVE you loads.