I’m currently at work; a place where I come and do close to nothing. But I can tell you I work hard for my dollar. You think it’s easy sitting in front of a computer everyday, trying to constantly come up with new ways to look occupied? The amount of effort I put into ensuring that I do nothing, is honestly even admirable to myself. If all that effort was put into something constructive, like fasting and praying for the Naira-Dollar exchange rate to miraculously reduce, perhaps Presdient Buhari would have called me up to offer me an official government position; Minister of Intercession or something of the sort.
Today, my pass-time is going to be blogging. For the main purpose of looking like I’m being efficient, and also because I desperately need to scream. Not in agony or anything, but because I feel like I’m having some kind of mid-life crisis (it is significant to note hat I’m still a few years away from 25). If you were next to me, I would give you full permission to hit me with a straw because I’m being terribly extra right now. Allow it, please.
My friend and I decided to be phone free for a few hours. It was such a dramatic decision. This choice to be out of the loop of whatever irrelevances we so desperately wanted to be plugged into made my body itch for a few seconds. I haven’t had my phone for almost five hours, and I lowkey feel cleansed and confused. The first two hours or so, I was concerned about texts that I would not be able to answer. Even though I knew damn well nobody was going to be texting me. Still, it was almost like I was going through a form of mild withdrawal.This was not normal. Am I crazy? Was I really obsessing over a virtual reality? My mates were creating apps and starting businesses, and all I could think about was what I would be missing on Twitter? Or the rubbish Snapchat filter that could have been wasting my time? Madting.
I really had a “You See Yourself” moment today. Majority of my thoughts revolved around supposedly interesting nothings. I was constantly feeding off of what Biodun or Wale had to say about Kylie Jenner’s biggest toenail. What Lydia did when she came to the full realization that her husband was indeed a Yoruba demon. Or if Jerry had indeed slapped his girlfriend for making fun of him for wearing shiny lip balm. He did not like his masculinity insulted.
Fragile masculinity is one of those concepts that you wish were a person so you could stuff fresh harbenero peppers down their throat. I’m not a sadist or anything, but I already know that throat will aid in the spewing of trash. Nothing good can possibly come out of that mouth. In my head, masculinity can sometimes be synonymous with bondage. I don’t understand the type of stupid “macho” you’re forming that won’t allow you do what your heart desires all in the name of being a “MAN”. It remains a wonderment to me honestly.
By the way guys, I recently just got my tragus pierced. Am I the first? Please ask your armpits. I’m geeked because my whole life revolves around pussiness. I’m trying to live life a bit closer to the edge, but with sense. A toast to more reckless spontaneity!
Scattered post as always, hence the title of this post. But you get it. Hopefully.