Search This Blog

Friday, November 20, 2009

Get out of my head...

How many of y’all would write a poetry book? Seriously. I’m putting my manuscript together for the book which has been in the works since God knows when.

But first I need a printer. And money. Never forget that. Money is important. Talking with a colleague sometime last week revived this dream I've had for a long time, so I decided to finally do something about it. Like we all know, dreams are just dreams until we do something about them. So it's off the drawing board for me, and deep into the trenches!

Like Billy Ocean said, "Get out of my head and into my car!"

Anyhoos, since I have nothing particularly important to blog about, I leave you with yet another poem...hopefully, it should make it to the final stuff.

You’ll buy my book right? Right?

Have yourself a lovely weekend.

Joy knows no bound,
As sorrow, no foreign ground.
Pleasure lives by tears,
Like draught in happy years.
Light and darkness take
Turns, day and night to make;
Songs and noise, they flow
From the instruments we blow.
Lies and truth pour out
Through our sweet and sour mouth.
In God we say we trust,
But after riches we lust.
In life we give,
And in death we live.
Peace and strength come by our laws
That crumble in our paws.
We talk of peace and condemn war
Yet in us we crave for more.
Hug the day and condemn night
Yet the darkness shows our might.
The games we all played yesterday
Is the foolishness of today.
Yet we crave for yesteryears
And in our folly, nothing say.
The child is born, the man will come.
As night ushers in the morn.
Surely, the babe will return.
Such is life for everyone.
EARLY 2004 – 17\9\2005.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

I live to write another day...

Sorry I've been out for a while people. Blame it on the job. No, not the bank job, but (yeah you guessed right) my advertising job!

From the bottom of my heart, I thank all of you that have prayed for and lit candles for me. :) I'm so very grateful. Thanks CaramelD, Freaksho, Ibiluv, ~Sirius~, incoherent (my luv), and everyone out there who has wished me well. Thank you.

This is why I write.

To clear my head and purge my soul
In the vain hope it will make me whole,
To gather my thoughts and give it breath;
To die in life and live in death.

Call me philosopher, call me muse;
Call me whatever ye may choose;
See, life is naught but a passing scene;
With my pen and paper, I may intervene.

Of a valiant knight; my dragon slain,
Will rear its ugly head again,
But I’ll forever valiant be,
To rise and fall again – my misery.

That day will come that I write no more
As I journey through this exit door;
But my pen, my power, my mystery
Will write an everlasting tale of me.

This is why I write.


Sunday, October 11, 2009

things are rather looking up...

So I finally got my 1TB external hard drive! That means I won't be agonising over any important file I mistakenly shift+delete. Heck, my laptop can go missing and I won't cry, cos I've backed up my files baby! Okay, that was a joke. I love my laptop.

Was in lag this past weekend, and the boys took me to this joint. Nice, classy and all, but just one problem: apart from the one that came with us, I coulda sworn all the other chicks were...err...'workers'. I wanna shock die!

In other news, people just dey marry anyhow. The bug seems to have caught some of my friends as well. What shall we say to these things? Carry on joo! Me, I go dey hia dey watch una until I gree go near di bug make e bite me. But for now, I have my bug spray handy, and my bug repelant rubbed over every spare inch of my body. There's no hurry in life.

I met someone recently. Smart. Funny. Sarcastic. Ambitious. Hustler. Me likee. We talked; we joked a bit; we danced round the obvious; we laughed. We promised to do it again...see where it leads to. We had better. Cos I need this job. And he needs this copywriter.

Gotta get some sleep if I'm to make it early to work later today.

Good night y'all

Sunday, October 4, 2009

shiver me timbers! i think i'll post a poem...


With tears that knew not whence they came,
And laughter that knew not why,
We fought to live, our rage to tame;
In truth we lived a lie;
Only to turn back and reclaim
With heaves and many a sigh;
In death we’ll live past this wretched game
For while we live we die.

If I die before I wake.

If I die before I wake,
Weep not world, it wasn’t late;
For life is just a fleeting phase,
And death is but life’s entry gate.

If I should fall beneath this weight,
Weep not world, it was my fate;
For every birth is a fresh demise,
And life is but death’s cunning bait.


By the way...

why do girls always think they have to bite their fingers in pictures? is that meant to be sexy?

why do people in movies think a kiss will solve all their problems?

what the hell am i still doing here?

oh, and by the way, anyone know how to speak jamaican patoi? i wan learn.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Here I go again

I've decided that the love thing is not for me. At least for now. It's not that I've suddenly become allergic to love; it's just that....I don't know...whatever. So, while the rest of you cavort on the dreamy, chocolate-flavoured, vanilla-topped rolling hills of love, I remain adamant on my lonely trails on these dusty plains of Aba. Loveless. Careless.


In other news, I'm seriously considering doing a master's program. I realized – in fact, it startled me to high heavens – that after leaving school five years ago, I have not added one single dot to my degree. Now, some may not see this as a big deal, but having drawn up a virtual career path in my head, I know that I need this. Hey, wouldn't it be nice to be Muse PhD? Just asking.


Life's the same ol' same ol' o'er hur. Same ish, different day. Work's getting more annoying by the day, but I'm hanging in there 'cos I got a reason.


Not posted a new note for a while, cos, you know, sheeeze. I need a break, and I need it now.


Holla at my peoples living their dreams. This too shall pass.


Saturday, June 13, 2009

As random as it gets...

I like the rain. Scratch that. I love the rain. So much so that I've been known (at my adult age I might add) to walk gleefully and slowly, while the rain poured down on me. There's just something about it that is, I don't know, refreshing and cleansing. Oh, and don't forget cool as well. The sound of rainfall is the perfect soundtrack to a meditative state of mind. Then again, that's just me.


I think I hate my job. I know, I know...I was the one who took it, right? But contrary to unpopular belief though, I took this job 'cos it affords me the opportunity to be a lil' closer to my home base (remember sey omo boy wan enter politics). But after three months in it, I definitely do believe I hate it. What to do? I'm scheming to:

  1. Get into the brand communications department of the bank; or
  2. Get another job in advertising.


Either ways, by God's grace, come next month, I'm back to my beloved Lagos. So if any y'all know of any vacancy in an ad agency for a copywriter (said agency must be willing to pay "kidnappers' salary" LOL), or a vacancy in the corporate affairs or brand communications department of a company that is "holding", let your boy Muse know.


I seriously believe I've been in some relationships for the wrong reasons. I don't know. This is what I believe though, when I see her, I will know. So, here goes my undertaking from now on: stay away from "something more". We can be friends, but that's all it's going to be. I'm too much of a contradiction to be in any relationship now.


The new theme for the phase of my life is Faze's "Originality". That song 'ministers' to me. Preach!


So, someone said the rainfall was the almighty One taking a piss. Right. Some statements I rather not even reply. Someone else said it was God shedding a tear. If that's the case, then God must really have a lot to cry about. Well, whatever the case may be, I just love the rain.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

there’s something about change...

For some time now, I've been contemplating a most contentious issue. oyibo!




They say change is the only constant in life, and that they who will survive, must change; must adapt. But come to think of it, do I want to? I mean, really? Think about it: one day you're massaging a mixture of spirit and "Sulphur 8" on your chin like your life depends on it, and the next day you're running sharp objects round your chin (perhaps elsewhere as well?) in a bid to remove that oh, stubborn hair that keeps growing back.


Change, huh? Well.


But I think I've changed some. See, back in school, I didn't know what I wanted to do when I got out. Cos, well, unlike some of you who read courses that pretty much led them (albeit blindly, I say) into a defined career path (think of the poor sods who read medicine, optometry, law, engineering...) I read history and International Relations (HIR) – in Abia state University (ABSU).


Before you start "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing" at the mouthful of a course, let me just state here that the swagger of that degree was just in the title. One of the courses, study of the world languages, was a walk-through the Igbo language. Yeah man, I always knew my Igbo brothers would eventually make an impact on the whole world. Nna meen! Noting mega!


So. I read HIR at ABSU. And while most of my course mates – and even the current students – kept deceiv...sorry, encouraging themselves that they would automatically become diplomats on graduation (they did then, and still do keep calling themselves ambassadors till today) I had not the faintest clue as to where I would end up.


Ofcourse, several thoughts crossed my mind:


  1. Get a shop in Ariairia; or
  1. Employ boys that would carry market-goers across those gaping pot-holes that just filled up once it rained; or
    1. Become a diplomat (after all, I read HIR, no?); or



Yeah. Or something.


I just had no clue. So, with a box full of whatever I thought I might need and a heart full of hope (na, scratch that and put curiosity) I went for Youth Service – in Yobe State. I still had no plan, but hey... I had a whole year to make one up.


But I didn't want to work in a bank.


Chang happens, right? Fast forward three years, and now I'm sitting at home and typing these words off the top of my head. I've already quit two jobs (in advertising – which I must confess, I love more than a whole lot of things) and I'm on the third. In a bank!


So change happens. I decided to come back to Aba from Lagos for a reason. I decided to leave the job I love and pick up one I may one day learn to like for a reason. I didn't get that shop in Ariaria for a reason. And I'm sure as the cold wind in winter writing all these for a reason.


What would you guys say if I told you Muse waned to unveil himself?


To change or not to change. That is the question at hand.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

I have a dream...

Some people argue that dreams are a subconscious repetition of events that we’ve let play around in our minds over a long period of time, especially just before hitting the sack. Others argue that dreams are a bridge between the physical and the supernatural worlds. Whatever it is, – subconscious repetition or supernatural bridge – lately I’ve been dreaming.

And it ain’t been pretty.

I get home from work, barely manage to undress while simultaneously hitting the sack, watch a bit of Commander In Chief (don’t you just love that stubborn gal, Mac?) and doze off. Now one might think that after a particularly stressful day of talking to an ill-mannered, unapologetically annoying dude with bad breath, and who thinks that an LC (letter of credit) is someone’s English name, one would have a pleasant, eventless dream full of rolling landscapes and three little birds.


Somehow, my now-obviously warped mind manoeuvres events in my dream to bring me right back to...wait for it...WORK! Yep. These days, I’ve opened just about any type of account the bank has in my dream. And just to think that a few weeks ago I was laughing at a colleague for complaining that she was marketing in her dream. Now it seems I do too. Not fair. Not fair at all!

But my mind’s even more messed up than I think.

After endlessly complaining about my dream job (no pun intended), I finally had a break.

I had a dream, yes, but not one about work! I was coordinating a high-level rescue operation for a top-secret government agency (don’t ask me which), and I was pretty much on top of my game. Trust me, I’m bad!

So. I’m coordinating this operation, when this theme music starts playing (somehow, I suspect Enya had a hand in this) just when the building blows up with one of my men inside! WHAT?! NO!!!!!!!!!!! And in the usual turn-of-events of Hollywood movies, the characters start revealing their faces while showing strong emotions when – and I swear I screamed out so loud my younger brother abruptly stopped snoring in his room – my horror-filled scream tore through the thin fabric of the night.


God help me. Somehow I've got to meet that target.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

Tired on a roll

It’s been a busy few days.

Come to think of it, starting from last week, I’ll have to sit at the reception each time I go to my former place of work. Now, that will be weird.

Muse: Hi, I’m here to see my (ex) boss.

Receptionist: Hello? There’s a Muse here to see Muse’s (ex) boss. Is he available?

Anyway, having packed my bags and said my goodbye to all my numerous girl friends (I wish), I proceeded to my place of birth and breeding, the ever-famous city of Aba – but first, a short trip to the paradise city of Calabar.

Did You know that I almost left my phones behind in Lagos? Just an aside; just an aside!

Calabar is a beautiful city by all standards (especially when the standards are Nigerian). From the immaculately clean streets to the smooth, well-tarred roads, Calabar is ne city that makes you want to go home, turn your state Governor face-down / ass-up, and give him a spit-shined, healthy leather boot-covered kick in the ass – just a few hundred times. I mean, this is a city in a state that, though in the South-South geopolitical zone of Nigeria, is not an “NDDC” state. Yep, that means they ain’t got oil. And if they ain’t got oil, they ain’t getting no oil allocation from the FG, which naturally means that they should be the least developed of the NDDC states. Right? WRONG!

Waiiiiiiit a minute! This is not a post about Calabar or even about politics – this is a post about MY busy few days. Calabar will have to wait.

Oh, did I mention that Calabar has a vibrant night life (as if you didn’t know already)?

SO...I spend a coupla nights in Calabar (where by the way, my host treats me to a sumptuous meal of pounded yam and affang soup), then zoom off on a three-hour journey to Aba. Said trip was nice and all, but trust the Nigerian Police to mess things up. Just as we got into Aba, some hungry-looking (remember folks, this isn’t profiling; it’s actually their trade mark) mobile police men stopped us. Driver brings out his hand to do the “usual”, which piques the officer. In righteous indignation (of course), the officer decides he’s going to do a thorough check on the bus...and guess who’s boxes he wants to see their contents?

By this time, I’m thinking “add another drama to my life, and you might as well just call me Britney Spears”.

Sure, I did disappoint the police. What did they expect to see...weed (although there were some tea bags that looked pretty suspicious)? All in all, that was not funny.

Next stop, Abiriba (my villa y’all). Burial. Nothing much. Except that my sister decides to come home with her coin-box-displaying friends of hers.

Did you know that coin boxes came in different shades and sizes – even foldable? I swear!

As if the coin-box assault was not enough, one of her friends decides she likes me. Me! What the heck?! One minute I’m standing alone, the next...”Hi!” WHAT THE HECK?! You’re still in the university for goodness’ sake (like that matters)! And not to mention the thing of you coin-boxing everyone within sight! To top it off, you’re my younger sister’s friend (you think I’m going to be foolish enough to give all y’all something to gossip about?)! Ha! In fact, double haaa!

My troubles were not over. Not just yet.

The next day I zoom off to Aba again, then from there to Onitsha, being driven by the most maniacal driver I’ve ever had the misfortune of entering his vehicle.

Oh, wait. There was that other guy who got so drunk that he caused the car to summersault three times! I’m glad nothing was broken – on me sha. He had to wear neck braces for a long time.

I get to Onitsha in one piece, thank God, having survived a reckless driver and a spit-throwing, irate driver who was cut off by our idiotic bus driver. Unfortunately, some of that spit landed on me.

I’ve been defiled.

So here I am, sitting out a three-day induction at the regional office of a bank, after which I move to my place of posting (Aba). This is more like detention than induction, ‘cos all I’m doing is sitting and wishing I was not here.

Anyway, come tomorrow I’m outta here, and even though I almost can’t stand any more travelling, I’m looking forward to this trip.

I’m also looking out for that maniac of a driver!

Friday, February 27, 2009

This is not a Freaksho!

Resigned! I'm going back to my state (Abia), to start getting myself ready for what lies ahead (Ibiluv, wanna bet again? This time about my being a politician, of course)? Anyways, I don't know how else to write about it, so here's a transcript of my farewell "speech" to my co-workers.


Okay, so where do I start? I'm moving back to the East (Abia state in particular) to sort out a few family issues. I will be lying greatly if I said I will not miss leaving (workplace) and everyone I've been fortunate to work with these past ten months. As leave, it is with a heavy heart, but also a heart full of thankfulness for all the people that have made (workplace) the greatest working place I've ever been in.

Thanks, Madam Principal for your experience and words of wisdom (trust me, you have a way of pouring them out). To Dreads, you're the coolest boss ever (albeit older and less virile than you-know-who)! Mobutu? You make the workplace a funplace. Thanks, SOJ for your encouragements; "Bishop", for your "prayers", and "Soludo" for your advice (really); thanks my (that account) brand team members for all your troubles (which I somehow managed to reply in kind). Ofcourse, TRGI, you're one-of-a-kind. (Duh)? You know now.

Miss B…thank you. Kogi Boi…thanks for introducing me to HBR. Prof…you know you've challenged me to pick up from where I left.

To Freaksho…you're probably the best writer (forget the "old" guys, they've had their fame; we rule now) I've been fortunate to know; Ebaby, "cool" doesn't even begin to describe you; Aloofaa, you may not know it yet, but bet you my gubernatorial seat that I'll be reading about you in the papers, online, and watching you on TV. To Rud Boi and Chicken, just one question: una no dey tire? Y'all make the rest of us look bad! Go home! To (Mr. nice guy), O2 and T, na God go reward una; Don, Blacky and Capt. Finished artist, thanks for bringing my ideas to life.

E! Damn, S got there first! Just kidding, but you're the best. Ever!

Chubby, na only time go cure you; Igbo Boy, keep the hustle on man, never forget that iwu nwa Aba. BJ…thank God sey you don marry (phew!). "Ugly Betty" (you know you have a way to inspire me *wink*). Fine girl, thank God you won't be harassing me again; Fake Igbo girl wanna-be (let's not even go there); T-beybey, even though you no gree for me, me I gree for you. LOL. O.P (ope oh!).

I love all y'all, and will most definitely miss you.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Forgive me father, for I have sinned

Telling the truth is a whole lot like taking a piss. You take a good position, ready yourself and, when sure that the timing is right, fire away. The result? Sweet, heavenly relief – mostly.


So, sometime ago I lied about some "truths" I posted on this blog. It was a little white lie, honestly! I mean, come on...even you have had to lie, right?





Aw, okay, whatever. So now I have to tell the truth (and there's also that little bet between me and ibiluv). This should be as much fun as all confessions are. Forgive me father, for I have sinned.


*I'm not catholic, so please forgive me if I get this wrong.


Muse:    Forgive me father, for I have sinned. My last confession was in...oh hold on...this is my first!


Priest:        May God give you the heart to feel true sorrow for what you're about to confess, my son.


Muse:        When I was younger, I wrestled with our house help.


Priest:        Well, the holy book does frown upon fighting....


Muse:        In our underwear.


Priest:        Good heavens man!


Muse:    She said we had to do it like it was on TV, father. She punched me with her hands and the round heaps on her chest. She fell on me and I liked it. She jumped up and down and I could only stare. Do you know what it feels like, father?


Priest:    Enough already! What else have you done?


Muse:    When I was younger I lied to my dad;

    I did so to stop the swing of his hand;

    Told him I even forgot my sister's name;

    Unfortunately, she wasn't game.


    Have you ever lied, father?


Priest:    Um, well...


Muse:    Never mind. You don't have to answer that.


    Forgive me father, for I have sinned.


Priest:    What, may I ask, have you done again?


Muse:    Nothing, father, this I didn't do,

    Yet, on blogville, did admit to.


    I never did like physics class,

    Never did like the teacher much.

I never liked her bony ass,

Forgive me father, for we're in church.


I did lie though, about liking her,

And how my Willie did salute.

Truth be told, I was an F9er

In physics, chemistry and other sciences. Shoot!


So now father I've purged my soul,

I lied, I failed, and I held her.

But I've just one question that may make me whole...

Have you ever had a boner?


Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Forgive me, for I shall sin...

When we were much younger, there was always a sure-fire way to make us tell the truth. It was not the beating (we somehow got used to that), neither was it the withholding of sweet goodies (we always managed to nibble some off our siblings). You see, we were built tough - and smart, so we always had a way to get round the threats of punishment.

Except one. We didn't want to go to hell.

What relief, it must have been then, when my folks (and siblings, and friends) found out that with the threat of all liars going to hell, we'd squeal like mice with a bad case of constipation. those were horrible days.

"Muse, which one of you spoilt the TV?"

"I don't know"

"All liars shall..."

(Pointing with amazing accuracy) "It was him!"

Anyways, that won't work now.

Or will it?

So, I've been tagged by CaramelD, and now I have to tell two truths and a lie, while leaving you to guess which is which. Hope you have as much fun trying to spot out what is true and what's a lie, as I had a tough time thinking them up.

So, father forgive me for I shall sin, for surely, one "truth" is a lie:

1. When I was younger, we had a much older house help who always loved wrestling with me - only thing was, we had to be in our undies. (What? We had to make it look as real as on TV!).

2. In secondary school, I had a crush on my physics teacher. (Curse the day she asked me to stand up and answer a question in class! Lil' willie decided it was the perfect time to raise his head as well.)

3. I once faked temporal amnesia to escape being flogged for having poor grades. (Told my dad I couldn't even remember my sister's name!).

What do you think? What's true? What's a lie?

Over to you.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

As I sit and ponder

Ambition, like death, is a cold, cold thing. Yet like the air we breathe, we keep falling into its seductive embrace. Poor, wretched beings that we are, what else can we do?

I’ve always known that I would venture into politics, and although I sought different ways to express my then-budding desire to help in alleviating the plight of the common man (I wanted to study law – and even went as far as buying a book on criminal law), I had never really sat down to think through the lofty goal I had set for myself – or perhaps life had set for me.

Not until now...(read on)

Friday, January 16, 2009

Still in the arms of my blues

Seriously, I have no idea what to blog about.  I've kinda been in a suspended state lately, and it has nothing to do with my experiences last Christmas - oh, and trust me, last Christmas deserves a long post on its own.

I don't know what to blog about.

Some days ago, I was listening to one of Enya's tracks (wild child) and it sort of got me in the mood (Enya always does that) to write something.  Considering I hadn't written in close to (or was it more than?) a year, a little bit of melancholy was just what I needed to lift my spirit (trust me on this). 

So, I wrote.

In the arms of my blues, I wrote something from deep within my dark sprite; something as simple, yet as complex as it flows.  Something that I was born with, yet created.  Something that was me. 

It is an untitled piece, and I hope you enjoy it.

The sun, it shines

The moon doth glow

The lazy child lies

Beneath the flower's bloom.


The days go by

The sun stands still

But the waters flow

And the new-borns scream.


We remain alive

We near death's door

Yet the sun will shine;

The moon, glow still.