So I watched this video on YouTube about an innovative company called Watly. Watly is building a facility that generates electricity independently using Solar energy while also working as a water purifying plant and providing internet connectivity – wow!
All the way from Europe, it is pretty much interesting to note that some people are designing solutions for some of the challenges we face in Africa – Neat. They made series of videos about their campaign and my flair for innovative technology got me going from one to the next.
One pretty interesting and common occurrence in some of the videos is the fact that when Ghanaians are depicted in their clips, they are shown singing and clapping (to God, I suppose). I am not an atheist and trust me I am not the Antichrist, but seriously, for how long are we going to continue like this?
I like to believe that our over dependence on God is some sort of laziness. We are too lazy to go out and better our world and so we quickly erect a structure run into it and start worshipping God.
I will not flog this horse any further, I believe it has been laid bare before us many times and I have only come to add my own quota to it. we will not see any form of development on our continent until we learn to look more within ourselves for ways to better our lives and the lives of those we come in contact with.
I have 1999 followers of twitter, 217 BBM contacts, 287 IG followers. “Modest figures” you say. I know. Still does not make me any different from others caught up in this endless game of numbers. Like everyone else, I want more. The story is the same; I will stop once I get my first 100, then 1000. Until we get to 100k and 1M looks like the red line. A red line no different from the ones before it.
We have let number define us too much and you do not have to be a mathematician to realize that numbers are a vain method of valuing ourselves as human beings. Our account balance, our age, our IQ, our body counts, our weight. Numbers. Vague numbers. That tell us how many or how much of something we have. They make no effort to provide any form of qualitative assessment. Numbers reduce people to mere statistic.
Numbers deny us the juicy stories that lurk behind them. They do not tell us how gracefully we have aged or how purposefully we have lived, how genuine our sources of income are, how we impact the lives of our twitter followers or whether we care about our BBM contacts. Numbers are cold and hard and we too have become cold and hard in order to climb the number ladder – makes me remember Nicholas Cage and John Travolta in Face Off; to catch him, he must be him. Epic movie!
With numbers better only means more. “More”, that fuels our greed. If not, what is a person doing with – the kind of money Dasuki personalized? Nobody is going to save us from this “arodan” that we have embarked upon – like children that will not let their mothers rest we roam the streets from pillar to post looking for what was never lost.
As I impatiently wait to get that 2000th follower that will see me join the 2k club of twitter, ironically I begin to realize the vanity and the lessons I could learn from it. Living in today’s world with even far more vain numbers has helped me realize this – perhaps sooner than I would have ten years ago. I still want that 2000th follower. Whether I set my eyes on 3k followers after now or I take my own advice, posterity will tell.
After more than two years of reckless postponement I finally got myself to watch the last two seasons of the big bang theory. O boy! The boys have grown and the girls hmmm… Bernadette Bernadette. What can I say? All in all it was too much fun getting to waff and waff and waff at kwiky and the others make nerdy jokes about life.
I also got to see those vanity cards that came up at the end of every episode. Oh yeah, I am one of those people that sits through the credits with my index finger on the spacebar of my laptop ready to pause as soon as it appears. Sometimes the vanity card tries to be as funny as the show, other times it helps you think about life a lot more differently and a good number of times it is just what it is; a vanity card – without an iota of meaning to ascribe to itself.
Like those vanity cards this is a vanity post and it really does have nothing much to say. It been nice leading you thus far, you can click away now. See ya! 🙂
LOL. People cringe every time I say “LOL” in offline conversations. Most of the time they say, “why don’t you just laugh?” Funny huh? Lol. For real why do I have to really laugh? I like to put my twitter savviness to use and go with the times. So why don’t they just let me.
Let me get this, they can say “YOLO” and “selfie” but I cannot say “LOL”? SMH! Talking about shaking of heads, they don’t really shake their heads when they say “SMH”. Do they? Nobody rolls on the floor or really laughs their asses off when they say “ROTFLMAO”. I don’t see them singing praises when they say “TGIF” and sometimes a good number of them have nothing to really be thankful for – for one they do not have a job and their weekend is probably going to suck because it’s not like they’ve made any interesting plans.
Moreso, sometimes I like to be vocal about feelings that I’m either too lazy to express or unsure of how to express, so I just put them into words. And if those words already have an already accepted shortened form, oh well, Good for me!
People from different places use slangs they picked from where they came from, what’s wrong with me repping my home town; twitter? Indeed as a patriotic twitterian, I would suggest that twitter slangs be used more often and in fact we reduce our everyday speeches to 140 characters or less at any given time.
I would like people to let me LOL in peace. For one it is very energy efficient and I am utterly glad I can finally find a way of expressing myself at twitter-like humour – the kind that only manages to tickle. That’s all from me and as you enjoy the rest of your day endeavour to LOL.
I’m pretty sure everyone has simmered down the heat of the Presidential elections that took place the past weekend. Lord, this is the most Nigerians have ever been involved with politics since the MKO Abiola era, it’s pretty amusing and amazing to observe as each person wants to air their views on #NigeriaDecides.
Anyway, this post is not about the elections but a great mind I had the opportunity of meeting and talking to. She is so vibrant and filled with dreams to impact other women. Be it as it may that the meeting was an informal one, I do wish I had been able to properly interview her, I’d do that some other time, I hope.
Let’s go on to what I have the permission to share from the tiny details I could gather. Her name is Gloria Enwenna. She is young, warm hearted and…
So I woke up to the cacophonous jabbering of boys yelling on top of their voices, at first I thought it was another one of those trademark fires the compound had become known for, I hurried out to see which rooms were getting roasted… but no it was not a fire, at least not this time.
Instead boys were out on all floors in heated debates and no, again, it was not about arsenal’s dismal loss to Monaco earlier that week.
It was about an evil, a new kind of evil that had pervaded our online space and had “surprisingly” found its way to our organic discussions – #TheDress
It was fun watching them argue, each trying to out-shout the other as if that would help shove their opinion down the throats of the other.
“All of you that see black and blue are bastards!” yelled one
“Are you mad? Where did you see white or gold?” another voice replied with venom
“Mumu! Abi shey na because Monaco beat una black and blue make you come dey see black and blue.” Hmmm, that was a little too personal.
“Is your father mad? How can you be seeing white and gold?”Like the fact that ones father was born out of wedlock or not affected the rods and cones that produced vision.
“All of una don mad, no be pink and green I dey see so?”That one is a clown, ignore him.
“That dress dey ugly sef, even Trey Songz sef talk am!”– Oh well…
As I watched the exchange of curses enough to last them a life time and even spill over to their offsprings, I smiled in acknowledgement. I smiled because they have brought to light, the good reasons I do not engage in verbal debates. – They are a sad way to waste ones time.
I learnt early enough that arguing with another person who has his or her mind caked up and perceptions unchangeable was like wrestling with a pig, you get all tired and dirty and the stupid pig takes all the fun. As a rule I don’t.
Most people find it utterly annoying, a few find it really cool. I understand why it is annoying, because when you make an objectionable statement, you want the other person to counter it so that you would then go on to lay down your points and snatch the victory as you have prepared for it.
By not arguing, I deny you that opportunity. By not arguing, I make your efforts towards preparing for the debate all in vain. Sometimes, I make it worse, I agree with you out rightly.
– that shii is painful, I know. And I’m not sorry – Not at all. *evil laugh*
There are reasons I don’t argue, one because I believe that in every debate both parties have some point they just need to put their pieces together to form a clearer picture.
In arguments there are no winners…
– only losers, the one that loses the argument and the one that loses a friend. Because take it or leave it, every time you floor a friend in an argument, he resents you.
Thirdly, you really cannot change people’s perception as you would see with the dress.
Again it’s like trying to teach a pig how to dance shoki, it only annoys the pig and wastes your time. Or is it the other way round.
Try all you want, those that see black and blue would see black and blue and those that see white and gold, would see just that. A few others that see pink and green would see pink and green – yet some others just look and all they see is an ugly gown and they don’t even bother about the colour.
This is Jenny’s write up on her year. She told me about it and I asked her to send it in. I hope it inspires someone out there as it has me.
When certain things have been given to us freely and have remained constant over the years, we tend to take them for granted. One of which is life, we remember to be thankful for it after we hear of another’s demise or something tragic almost happened to us. This year was one in which I cherished my life more than any other year. I came down with cerebral malaria sometime in May. On the first day I called a friend to tell him I’d be going. I was too convinced that this was it. After a week in the hospital and a 50% memory of what did or didn’t happen, I got back home with a new…
They both lay beside each other
Looking with intensity Lots running through their mind – hearts racing
Both are speechless and exhausted from all that making out Waiting and hoping the other will speak first
In their hearts they only want to hear just three words from each other.
They are shy to say it because they are afraid of what the response will be
They don’t want to sound needy or clingy They don’t want it to end and they are afraid that if they speak about what they feel it might ruin what they have – they don’t know what they have.
They continue to look deeply into each other’s eyes but won’t say a word.
They wonder if their romance will take them anywhere. Or will it just make them fall deeply into their true feelings
It’s time to go but none wants to leave
Cause that when it dawns on them that what they have is temporary till one of them finds something serious in the arms of another and their romance would be nothing but a memory. All it takes is three words and eight letters to transform their status to something more official – But none would speak.
They both lay beside each other, looking with intensity. Both wanting to hear the other say, “I love you”.
This evening I received a very odd, and rather unexpected text from a woman in my church. It was unexpected because I rarely have contact with said woman, and secondly, because of the nature of said text. We do not know each other like that. Like what, you ask. See here:
Maleaka, I have a question about your blog. I am here with [two other high ranking women in the church mentioned by name]. We heard you wrote a blog called “Should Christian Men Hit it From the Back?” Is that true? We’re looking for it…
Ewurade. This my blog. This my church! I never thought the day would come when there would be a coupling between the two. Even though the topic sounds like one I might I have written, I ensured my enquirer -let’s call her Romona- that I am/was not the responsible party. Romona apologized and ceased…