Scribblings Of A Dramatic Introvert

Here's why old men are adorable: Today, I walked into church with one goal:  find a location where everyone minds their business and respects social distancing (I'm very big on people keeping their businesses far away from me in this panoramic) so where else would I fit in, if not among the white haired members of the congregation? I go ahead to sit beside this dude who's probably closer to ninety than he is to seventy, and I find myself staring at the white hair curled in his pinna. I think about their lives in retrospect a lot; old people.  My fave is in a lace agbada that went out of vogue decades ago when his wife was maybe still alive to critique his taste in fabric; his back hunched over and his cap in his hands, as he looks right ahead of him.  His hands are thinned out, dry and wrinkled and he reaches for his Bible as the readings begin. I look him over and every portion of his skin has lost the bounce and shine we try so hard to maintain with all sort of organi...

Maybe it hasn't been all that bad. Everybody has been talking about their year in retrospect, as today is the last day, yet I found a way to get pissed off at the concept.  It's just another Thursday. Tomorrow is just another day and it doesn't matter. While I was sulking about how cliche it sounds to carry out an end of the year accountability and rub it in everyone's faces, my brother thought to ginger me and point out that I've not been a total bum this year.  Count your little wins and exaggerate them if it makes you feel better, he said.  I had plans to write of how useless the year has been, but here instead I'd sing about how great it's been. One tiny win at a time; as a blogger, social media noise maker, educator, friend and maybe, just a little bit as a one-time medical student. The bum: I had the worst oral exam of my life this year and cried for days in the bathroom and longer under my blanket because I'm such a baby. A few weeks later, my gro...

"It was love at first sight",  "I knew she was the one", "He fought for us", "I can't imagine life without her in it." A. Must be nice to sit back and watch your 12 grandchildren turn your house into a playground, screaming and sending your blood pressure up. You tell your wife not to chase after them because kids will be kids. Of course you're their favourite grandpa. It's your last daughter's wedding and she bagged a fine young man, like her two older sisters who wed before her. You hear her tell her friends on the eve of her wedding that she wanted her man to be just like you, her father- perfect.  You pull your beautiful, incredibly 'still hot' wife to your side and whisper that you love her. You do, in fact. Despite how much she breaks your heart, you love how much she has been committed to keeping you both together. She didn't have crazy dreams, she just took care of the babies and made a few cents to buy you a t...

Jittery The past few days have been tough. I've been slipping in and out of myself, questioning why I have to be stuck in this limbo, every new day bringing new meaning to edginess.  My pastor once said my generation suffers from information overload due to our exposure to the internet; social media being our go-to for every update. Torn between being ignorant and knowing what's going on, we expose ourselves to everyone's emotions; taking it all in without room for careful selection.  You're scrolling through your timeline and you see a graphic image of someone hacked to death, burnt, or shot at; you want to know what happened but the story is even much worse than the image. The brutality you realize you're not immune to; you could really just die for being unlucky. Insomnia, overwhelming sadness and everything else hits you. Today, I saw a police officer wield a pistol pointing to the sky, aiming. He wasn't the only one, as the others looked even more dangerous...

"Jeez, what happened to your face?" Yes, people would walk up to you to ask this. And yes, the question is as rattling as ever each time, as it brings all your insecurities rushing back full force. Usually, some shady routine is suggested for the ghastly incident on your face that ranges from acne to heat rash or some stubborn strain of  Tinea vesicolor stunting on you.  There's a classic disgust they wear on their faces while commiserating with you. It's usually at the edge of my tongue to say "It really doesn't hurt, unless you poke that way" but I keep it in every time.  So since I was a little kid, I've always had one skin problem or the other; my brother still hisses his frustration whenever I mention something else that went wrong with my face again. My mom said I was about  four years old when the first break-out happened. It gave me the worst picture memory I'll ever have, sitting there, trying to look pretty but with a body of red beat ...

"Looking sharp" sounds like a better compliment than "You look like a pastor's wife" which I had to smile to on Sunday, with a thank you, because church girls are polite and I look like a classic one; at least on most days.  Proverbs 22:6 classically says to train a child in the way they should go and they shall not depart from it (I just googled this Bible verse, my brain is empty for church things). Well, to be honest there's the part of me that is scared of derailing morally or rather "backsliding straight into hell" but other than that, I don't think Jesus is proud of me. Although that's personal; should be personal.  There's been interesting days in this church girl thing which I feel like writing about. One particularly hasn't left my head. The one at Ibadan. Nothing prepared me for the "sanctuary" I was visiting. Gathering of faithfuls? Definitely faithful to the movement. The fun part: As a Christian, I'm not n...

  What's your quarantine routine like? 161 days later, I know the world has indeed moved on from the pandemic, yet here I am, talking about it after 23 weeks (feels like 934 weeks, uurrrgghhh). I get asked "So what are you up to?" almost every other day and my handy reply is "Well, I'm living and breathing." Okay well, living things breathe and feed and do those MR NIGER D thingy, although there's not a lot of movement (I'm stuck in my bedroom cell 28/30 days a month), growth(I'm still 5'7 and all round flattened) or reproduction (well, mating isn't permitted yet) going on in my life at the moment. And clearly I'm not dead, so that strikes off the D. The "I" should be emboldened though, because I am soo irritable, but we don't want to talk about that now. Is this a whine about being stuck at home and being helpless about it, without any moral lesson at the end? Hell yes. Should I shut up and accept it? Well, I did that f...