So, I’m sitting on the floor with a slight pain in my waist,
typing on a television ‘cause it goes off when the stupid guy at Nepa decides
to trip that switch. I’m gon pretend to be the major character from “Finding
Forrester” and just write. Also because Omojuwa said to do so – of course,
Lincoln and Jordan backed him up. So yeah, there’s nothing interesting for you
to read here, feel free to use the close or scroll button, if you’re actually
reading this. I mean, what are the chances this wins, one in “I-don’t-know-number-of-articles”.
I won’t feel bad since I’m getting used to people not reading my works and
black men don’t read.
Ok, you are still
reading. I wish there was a way I could find out what is still keeping you here
– I wager my brain its curiosity as to where I’d go with this. Like brains are
worth anything in Nigeria. So, you were warned and yet, here you are. Another
warning; you are hereby not allowed any deeply, personal opinions on anything
out of everything you are going to read. Of course, your thoughts are totally yours
so let them stay in your head, where they belong.
The slight pain in my waist is there because I am jobless,
five months and counting hence, I sleep all day. Only a doctor from Hopkins can
tell me otherwise. This is a problem considering the pressure to be successful
and you need a good job for that in Nigeria. Our mentality sucks. I really want
to be a writer but you have to have spent time in prison or write on abuse,
social unrest, war etc. to be successful. I’m therefore learning to take sad
things more seriously. And yes, define success as an assignment.
In the chase of “success”, I took two final level interviews
of reputable Nigerian companies last year and they didn’t even have the
courtesy, no scratch that, common sense to tell me they didn’t want me. I mean,
what’s a text message to a big company? Can you imagine what it feels like
having to wait and guess? International companies
I applied to sent me messages, yes plural, that made me feel good about being
rejected. You see why the black man would forever remain behind the white man?
I know what you are thinking, it is still the black mans’ mentality! A rat just
strolled into my room.
Just imagine, my parents are still responsible for my upkeep
- very thing I was trying to avoid by not going for M.Sc abroad. They had their
jobs in their early twenties and are still working when they ought to be
retired and reaping the fruits of their labor – l being the laborer. But alas,
we live in realist world. I’m beginning to
regret this but hopefully these millions would go towards their retirement. I
love them pieces men. Heard they had a huge fight the other day and Barrister,
for the first time lost his cool. Wow, Pastor really crossed the line. Imagine,
they didn’t tell me. They say I lack emotions and can’t empathize so, no need.
Only if they knew.
That I had enough emotions to land my first girlfriend in JS
2 and that was the real reason I wasn’t made head boy - you would think taking
WAEC in that school was for qualification to paradise. I have since graduated
to a guy involved with six ladies in different shades of relationships with
plans to break up with the only steady one – a lawyer in Abuja, soon. No calls,
monosyllabic responses to pings, and she’s gon call it quits herself. Girls,
girls, girls - only thing they love is lies. And no, my heart was not shattered
beyond repair and I’m no player. It’s the girls instead…
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