100 reasons why we can’t work out

It’s me. I was wondering if I could have a minute of your time. I’m sorry for having to communicate this via a letter. I was hoping we could talk about it, but we wouldn’t have the time. I can’t remember the last time we had the time to have a good talk about serious issues. Talking about serious things has become a sort of luxury for us. We have the time to talk about every other thing except serious issues affecting us. Well, I have improvised a medium to communicate this to you. I hope you have the time to read it to the end.
I surmise you would have garnered a clue for the essence of this letter from the subject. No, I am not breaking up with you. I still love you. I think. But sometimes, I think love is just not enough. I feel what we share may be heading for the rocks. You know, like Titanic heading for the iceberg. Who would have thought it, that something so strong and beautiful could ever disintegrate?
So without much ado, let me go straight to the purport of this letter.
1. We are perfect, but not perfect for each other.

I know our friends adore us; they literally worship our relationship. They tell us how they envy our love. They send us pings, confessing their admiration for our recently uploaded BBM profile pictures. They enter our DMs, telling us how they appreciate our tweeted quotes on love. They like our pictures on Instagram and Facebook. They see us at social gatherings on weekends, holding hands, and they tell us how much that inspired them.

Our families  – oh our families. They can’t wait to hear when we’ll be tying the knot. They know we are meant for each other.

Our colleagues at work keep talking about how much we call each other during working hours. Our love must be so deep, they say.

Maybe they are right. Maybe they are wrong, but you and I know we are in a strange place.

I like cuddling while I sleep. It makes me sleep better, but cuddles are not your thing. You would rather spread on the bed. It makes you comfortable. I don’t like how you spread.

I like preserving left over foods in the fridge. You don’t like frozen foods.

I like the Rose air fresher for the room. It makes me happy. The smell makes you vomit. You prefer a scent of lavender. I hate lavenders.

I love visiting friends on weekends. You would rather sleep at home.

I was brought up in an Orthodox church and would want to continue there. You were brought up in a Pentecostal and nothing would make you leave.

I don’t like your short hair. I prefer a woman who keeps long hair. You don’t like my little pot belly. You wish I worked out more.

I don’t like onions in my soup. But onions in soup, is the soup to you.

I prefer texting. You prefer calling.

So you see, we could be perfect in the eyes of others, but we are not perfect for each other.

2. Our career paths.

Remember when I got this job at the big auditing firm? You were happy for me, but sad that it took most of my time. I had to be out of the house before the cock crowed and wouldn’t be back until midnight. Sometimes I slept over at the office. I convinced you everything would be fine. The job was paying well and we needed the money. I promised to look for a more convenient job after five years.

Well, just as the five year ultimatum was closing in really fast, you informed me you got an irresistible job offer at that Multinational. Your dream job.


You know what your job description entails, right? You will literally live on the road. I know I was happy for you when you told me about the job, but you and I know it won’t augur so well for our relationship in the long run.

3. Our chastity resolve.

When we started dating, we resolved to remain chaste until our wedding night. We knew it was the best thing to do. Or so we thought.  We did not want our skin fusion to muddle up our real feelings for each other. We also did not want to offend God.

We held on for so long, kept our sides of the bargain.

Until that night.

I know we did not actually skin-fuse, but what we did, was close enough. Ever since then, we have continued in the act. We may not have skin-fused, but how long can we hold on until we finally do?

I stumbled on your diary the other day. I read your entry for the 5th of November. You said you were unhappy. You were unhappy about what we have been doing.

It made you want more.

It made you not want more.

You were not sure what we were doing. But you continued.

We should not have to live that way.
4. Our backgrounds.

You are from the North. I am from the West.

I know we already talked about this, even before we started dating. I know we agreed this wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it hasn’t been a problem. We have circumvented everything that could have been a barrier. For example, our language of communication. We have settled for English. Well, we had no choice. It was always going to be English.

One other thing that could have been a barrier was the blessings of our families. But our families know we are dating and they are cool with it. Their paramount concern is our happiness. Wow. That should settle everything, right? But it hasn’t.

Being from different worlds has far reaching consequences than we could imagine. Have you considered the future? Our children? Our children’s children? I have.

When we have children – if we have our children, how do we want to raise them? Your Northern values are different from our values in the West. Should we super-impose our respective values on our children? Or let them choose which one to follow?

If we let them decide for themselves, there could be a conflict or friction in the home, especially when some of our children decide to follow one parent’s values and the others decide to follow the second parent’s values.

How about the language thing? Will our children also speak just English? How long before they forget their roots? What becomes of their own children?

A friend told me about his cousins who were raised in America. They have lived all their lives there that they aren’t sure if their parents’ country is Nigeria or Africa.

I know this is a long call as it relates to us, but I’m sure you get my point.


5. Wait. There’s a knock on the door.

No, “There’s a knock on the door” is not one of the 100 reasons why we can’t work out, Silly. I’m saying there’s a knock on my door. I think my neighbour is out of cooking gas.

Hang in there whilst I go lend him my gas bottle.

Oh. It’s not my neighbour. It’s the courier service delivering a letter to the wrong apartment.

I think I should give this letter to him to deliver to you before I change my mind about sending it.

I shall forward the concluding part of this letter to you on a future date.

Until then….



*Addendum: I have just quickly scanned through this letter and I realise I did not refer to you in any pet name, save for Silly. I am sorry. It just feels weird that, for a long time now, we haven’t called ourselves those “mushy mushy” names we used to when we started dating. And me addressing you by any of those names in this letter would be plain hypocritical. You know I still love you, right? But maybe, ………………………………………………

2016: The Year We Break things?

Get-Inspired-at-Work-Featured1If you follow tech blogs and read start up stories, you’ll be used to the phrase “disruptive innovation”. The phrase – which in itself, is a theory – was coined by Professor Clayton M. Christensen of the Harvard Business School, and what the theory simply posits is that, a disruptive innovation is an innovation which creates a new market and value network and eventually disrupts (forgive the tautology) an existing market and value network, thus displacing established market leaders and alliances.

Let’s illustrate ….

If you grew up in Nigeria and attended a Nigerian school in the 90’s, you should be conversant with the chalk blackboard. Now, around the early 2000s, you will recall that, the chalk blackboard was gradually being replaced with the “marker whiteboard”. These “marker whiteboards” can be considered as a disruptive innovation in the sense that, it created a new kind of market in the education/teaching ecospace, thus challenging and – I dare say – displacing already established chalk and blackboard makers. It has been ages since I saw chalks and blackboards being sold in the market and the only conclusion I can draw from this is that, they are no longer used in Nigerian schools – maybe, save for schools in very rural localities. And this was only made possible by the marker whiteboards.

Applying the above theory/principle to our literati world,  I believe 2016 should be the year we strive to be better, to do things better –  a year we can strive for what I’ll term,  “personal disruptive innovations”. Of course, by using the phrase “personal disruptive innovations”, I am talking in a metaphorical sense, as much as I am talking in a practical sense. What have you been doing in the last year that you would love to “disrupt” and do differently for better results? Here is a list of areas I think writers should strive to “disrupt” in 2016. This list is in no way exhaustive and it also does not wish to be understood as pretentious in the sense of applicability to all writers (or even wannabe writers like my humble self). There is a thread of common experiences amongst us and this list is a mere attempt at drawing our attention to some of them in a bid to encourage us to better ourselves in 2016.


1.Write more.

Of course, this had to be the most obvious area to disrupt if you are like me. I know writing could be exhausting – really exhausting, but if you are like me and you write about five posts a year not so often, 2016 should be the year you write more. I have personally decided to write at least once everyday every week. The major challenge to this, is of course, the time factor. But guess what? I learnt a trick from Vincent Mars sometime ago. He knew he would not be able to churn out lengthy posts every day, so what did he do? He resorted to writing a fifty (50) word flash story/post every day. This way, he ensured he kept writing no matter what. You could take a cue from this and do a thirty (30) word post everyday. This will keep you constantly engaged in your art and your blog stats will thank you for this.


2.Read More Books.

There is a saying that “readers are billionaires leaders”. If you are looking forward to reading more this year – which you should – here are three places I’ll recommend you look for free ebooks: Wattpad, Project Gutenberg and Free-Ebooks.


3.Get a Custom Domain.

I talked about getting a custom domain early last year as a New Year Resolution. I know. My blog does not have a custom domain yet. I know. However, what you don’t know is that, in the last two years, I have reserved the custom domain “www.haroldwrites.com” at NameCheap. Yes, I paid to have it reserved. I have tried mapping it to my wordpress domain on numerous occasions to no avail, as wordpress does not seem to accept debit cards from Nigeria. Racist much? Lol, just kidding.Why don’t I hire a professional to do this for me? Well, that’s a question I have to answer this year. I’ll get a professional to do this domain thing for me once and for all, this year. You should too. There are numerous advantages of getting a personal custom domain. Even Linda Ikeji who once swore on her life decided never to get one, has finally succumbed to peer pressure done so.


4.Attend more literati events.

This needs no further emphasis. Just attend more literati events. Why? Because I said so there are a million and one advantages of doing so. For one, you get to connect with people of like mind. You know how people think writers (or wannabe writers like myself) are recluses (I laugh in French)? Attend more literati events in 2016 and put the devil to shame debunk this narrative. On a serious note, attending literati events sharpens your mind, redirects your focus and energises you to take your writing craft more seriously.

5.Author a book. Any book.

Have you always wanted to write a book? 2016 is the year you should do it. You must do it. Author a book. Any book. Just author a book. Why? Because “Author” is better than “Writer”.

These are a few areas I believe you should “disrupt” in your life for a more productive enjoyable 2016. DO you have any suggestions or contributions to the list? Feel free to do so in the comment section.


Happy New Year.


Twitter: twitter.com/haroldwrites

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/haroldwrites



Slay Queen


Let me tell you a story.

Our story starts with Slay Queen getting a new notification from Facebook. Ekubo McBrian had just hit her up for the twelfth time today. She had only just accepted his friendship request since he sent it six months ago, but he was fast becoming a pain in the bum. She heaved a deep sigh and placed her phone back in her denim pocket.

“Madam, we don reach the place,” the cabman said.

She looked out of the window. The giant “Eko Hotel and Suites” sign at the top of the towering building welcomed her preying eyes.

“Okay,” she said as she paid the cabman and alighted from his overly comfy Metro taxi. She approached the entrance of the hotel and found her way to the private hall where she spotted her would-be company relaxing in a few seats away. He stood up and pulled the chair for her.

“I thought you would not make it,” he said in a soothing sonorous voice as she made her way into the seat.  Then he smiled.

“That smile,” she said, pointing to his face. “The one that got me.”

They had both met on Twitter during one of those feisty nights when Twitter Nigeria was agog with a trending topic. News of Toke Makinwa’s marital woes had just filtered into social media and the wisest Nigerians were postulating how it was all Toke’s fault. Slay Queen’s company, Ahmed Preeq, had a different view point. He did not blame Toke, neither did he blame Maje. He blamed God for giving men penises. His tweets on the subject were retweeted by hundreds of Twitterzens at lighting pace and someone retweeted one of such tweets to Slay Queen’s TL. The first thing she did was to view his avatar. He had his knob on full display. Then, she read his bio. It read “If you would like to fuck me, DM me.” She thought he was cocky, but she also thought he was cute.

She followed him and he returned the favour almost immediately by following her, as if he had been waiting all his life for this day. Then, she DMed him with the words “I would like to fuck you”. She was serious. He replied almost immediately too with “Date? Time? Venue?” He was serious.

At first, Slay Queen was astounded. She thought he was unreal, but she disregarded her shock and replied, “Next Saturday. 8pm. Eko Hotel, VI.”

Ahmed Preeq spent little time in replying “Not one second late.”

Today was the day. They were meeting for the first time.  The only words they said to each other at the table were the only words they had exchanged when she arrived. They stole glances at each other throughout the course of eating, without as much as a whisper. Slay Queen found this exciting and intimidating. She hoped he would live up to the latter part of his Twitter handle: “Preeq”. That was why she followed him on Twitter in the first place.

After they were done, Ahmed Preeq led her by the hand to his room. This was the moment she was waiting for.

Umm, I won’t trouble your innocent mind with disturbing graphic details of what transpired between them. Let’s just say they consumed each other in raw, passionate, mortal affections.

Now, after they were done, Slay Queen rose to use the bathroom.

“You want to pee?” Ahmed queried.

Slay Queen looked at him as he sprawled on the bed. “No, I’m taking a shower.”

“You feel dirty?” Ahmed joked.

Slay Queen heaved a sigh. “I prefer you in your quiet state.”  She walked into the bathroom, had a shower and came out fully dressed.

“What, you’re leaving?” Ahmed asked in surprise. “It’s like ten pm.”

Slay Queen walked to her Michael Kors bag, picked it up, pulled out an envelope and handed it over to Ahmed.

“What?” Ahmed asked in more surprise. “Is that supposed to be my bill? Relax woman, I’ve got your money. Just come back to bed.”

Slay Queen dropped the envelope on the bed and walked out of the room.


She stole a glance at her wrist watch as she beckoned on a taxi by the gate of the hotel. It was now twenty minutes past ten.

“The bastard,” she cursed under her breath, referring to Ahmed. Slay Queen had another meeting for eleven o’clock and had hoped she would be done with Ahmed before ten. But he had managed to bed her longer than she had expected. She was impressed with his skills. She was also impressed that he had kept to his Twitter handle. He was a good preeq.
A Metro taxi screeched to a halt before her, jolting her out of her reverie.

“Radisson Blu,” she said nonchalantly to the driver as she slotted into the back seat. The cab weaved its way through the fabulous and beautifully lit inner-city of Victoria Island and was at the magnificent Radisson Blu edifice in no time. Slay Queen paid off the cabman and made her way to the hotel. She was no stranger to the surroundings, so it was not difficult for her to locate Tokunbo CashMoney’s room. He was her next guest for the night. They had met on Instagram. He always liked her pictures, even when she did not know who he was. She was forced to return the favour by visiting his instagram page. That was when she was hooked. His pictures depicted his handle. He, figuratively speaking, drowned in wads of cash in all his instagram posts. She liked all his pictures. The rest, like they say, is history: They followed each other, exchanged contacts and agreed to meet tonight.

Slay Queen opened his hotel room door to a surprise: Tokunbo CashMoney had mints of dollars spread all over the king-size bed, with him at the centre. He was only clothed in shorts. He stood up to welcome Slay Queen, poured her a glass of wine, and then, started talking about a million things she would never remember. Her mind was still on the wads of cash she had just seen. Will he slay me on money? She thought to herself. Wow!!!

The night grew longer as Tokunbo talked on. Slay Queen had to interrupt him.

“Are we going to talk all night or are we going to fuck?” she said curtly.

Tokunbo was stunned. He had thought it was only appropriate that they had a conversation before doing anything, but whatever…

He started undressing her, but she pushed him to the bed, stripped him of his shorts and started working on him. He could not believe how wild she was. She worked on him like she was possessed. They consumed each other in rough, feisty, unapologetic sex. This went on for twenty minutes and was only cut short when Tokunbo climaxed. Slay Queen, who had been riding him, slid off his stomach to the bed. Tokunbo just laid there, gasping in excitement.

“You are awesome,” he said as he tried to stroke her hair.

She moved her head away. “You are a learner,” she replied. “I wasn’t finished.”

Her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen. It was a new Facebook notification from Ekubo McBrian. He had just sent her another message. The message read:

“It’s a lonely night for me. I just got into town. I’m so cold. I wish you were here, but you won’t even accept my friendship request.”

She replied, texting “where are you?”

“Lekki. At home. Where are you?” he returned her text.

“On my way to your place. Send me your address” She texted back.
With that, she sprang out of the bed and headed for the bathroom with a grin on her face. As she closed the door, she heard Tokunbo CashMoney say, “Don’t take too long in there. I’m ready for another round.”

“I’m done with you,” she retorted. “Get my money ready.”

In no time, she was out of the bathroom. Tokunbo CashMoney looked at her in shock.

“Are you serious?” he asked, astonished.

Slay Queen pulled out an envelope from her bag and handed same to Tokunbo.

“For real?” he said as he hesitated to collect the brown paper. Slay Queen shrugged.

When Tokunbo realized she was not joking, he nonchalantly pointed to the bed and said, “They’re all yours.”

He was referring to the cash they had just made out on.
Slay Queen scrambled to the bed, quickly stashing away every note she could lay her hands on into her bag. After she was done, she ran her index finger across Tokunbo’s lips and licked her finger. With that, she scurried out of the room without saying a word. It was One o’clock in the morning.


Slay Queen found a cab which took her to Ekubo McBrian’s address which he had sent to her via Facebook messenger. Ekubo was at the gate to receive her. He led her by the hand into the palour. As he walked over to the bar to pour them a drink, Slay Queen said, “I did not come here for drinks.”

“O….kay,” Ekubo slurred.  “Do I get you water instead?”

Slay Queen shook her head. “Get me your bed.”

Ekubo McBrian could not believe his ears. She wanted to bed him so soon, even without knowing him?

“Are you a witch or something,” he joked as they made their way to his room.

“Yes,” she said, smiling charmingly at him.

Which girl beds a guy she hardly knows on the first date, in his house? Ekubo thought.

Before he could come up with an answer, he heard Slay Queen say, “You said you were cold. You have been buzzing me all day. I’m here to light up your world.”

It sounded poetic to Ekubo but he could not care less. He was actually cold and yes, he could do with some sex, but this…This was unreal.

“You do this to every guy who hits you up on social media?” he asked, as she sucked at his knob.

“Yes,” Slay Queen replied, with Ekubo’s knob in her mouth. Then she stopped. “Your body is actually warm.”

Ekubo shrugged. “But I feel cold.”

“I like it,” Slay Queen said.

They consumed each other with passion and venom late into the night. After they were done, Ekubo stood up to use the bathroom. He turned on the shower. While he was in there, Slay Queen’s phone rang.
She smiled at the sight of the caller ID.

“Hey,” she whispered on picking the call.

“How parole dey go?” the voice on the other end asked in pidgin English.

“I dey rep my body count game as I been promise na,” she answered in a very low tone.

“Na lie,” the voice on the other end said in disbelief. “How many you don knack?”

“Three so far… I pick the first guy from Twitter, the second one from Instagram and the third one from Facebook…”

“Omo, you bad gaan. How you take measure them?”

“My guy, na their name I use o. The first guy get better prick, so na him prick I been go obtain. The second one get money….”

“And the third one nko?”

“Mehn, I no know wetin I go obtain from this guy sef. Him yeye name na McBrian…”

The voice on the other end burst out laughing. “Ehn, him name na McBrian abi? Where him dey stay?”


“Na big boy be that na. Check whether him get Macbook….”

Slay Queen’s roving eyes quickly scrutinized the room. There was no Macbook in sight. But she saw an iphone 6 sitting by the bedside. “No macbook. But I don see iphone…”

“Obtain am,” the voice on the other end advised.

Slay Queen scrambled across the bed to where Ekubo phone was. She quickly put the phone into her bag. “Done deal,” she said, laughing in low tone.

Just before she dropped the call, the voice on the other end said, “No mind all these yeye men. Shebi na toto dem want? Na toto dem go get.” Then, the line went dead. Slay Queen kept smiling.

Ekubo McBrian came out of the bathroom not long afterwards.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked.

“Because I’m leaving soon.”

“Wow, really?”
Slay Queen got up from the bed and started dressing up.

“You’re serious?” Ekubo asked, looking surprised.

Slay Queen pulled out an envelope from her bag and handed same over to Ekubo.

“It was nice meeting you,” she said with a bold smile on her face. As she headed for the door, she heard Ekubo say, “Wait.”

He pulled out an envelope from the drawer by his bed side and handed same over to Slay Queen.

“Keep it,” Slay Queen said. “I don’t want your money.”

“It’s not money.”

“So what is it?”

“A treasure.”

“Keep it. I don’t need your treasure. I sleep with men for a reason. I did not sleep with you for your treasure.”

“This treasure is not for the sex we had. I have been following you on Facebook for the last six months. Your pictures make me drool and weak and helpless…” He paused. “I got this for you in anticipation of whenever we would meet.”

“Oh. How thoughtful of you,” Slay Queen said as she collected the envelope.

“Don’t open it until you get home,” Ekubo advised.

“I won’t.”
With those two words, Slay Queen walked out of the room.

Ekubo McBrian dropped to his bed, with a wide grin on his face. He was excited his mission was accomplished. Then, he noticed Slay Queen’s envelope was still in his hand. He wondered what was in it. After spending the next thirty minutes contemplating what the envelope could contain, he decided to open it. There was a note inside. The note read:

“Hello sweetheart, I am a transgender and I am HIV positive. Deal with it.”

Ekubo felt his heart starting to beat irregularly. He had just bedded an HIV positive man.


Slay Queen found a cab as soon as she stepped out of the hotel premises. She gave the cabman an address as she slotted into the back seat. As they drove to her place in the thick of the night, Slay Queen heard herself burst out in laughter. Then her mind darted to the envelope Ekubo had given her. She wondered what was inside as she tore open the seal. Stacks of pictures fell from the envelope to the ground. Slay Queen reached for them. One after the other, she viewed the pictures. They were pictures of Ekubo in military apparel. The pictures appeared to have been taken somewhere in Africa. Some of the pictures were taken in refugee camps. In one of such pictures, Slay Queen could spot a signboard in the background with the inscription “Liberia”.

Is he a soldier? Did he go on a peacekeeping mission?

Then a phone in Slay Queen’s bag beeped. Slay Queen was certain it was not her phone. It was Ekubo’s. She reached for the phone. A text message had just come in. It was from a contact saved as “Doctor”. She opened the text message. It read:

“Hey Ekubo. The tests results have just come in. I don’t know how to say this man. But the tests have confirmed that, your fever is not normal. I’m afraid you may have contracted the Ebola virus. Call me when you get this message.”

As wise as the ants

By Kolawole Adepoju


As the horn sounds reverberate

The soldiers stand for fate

A bind to their nascent promise

Their oath of office

The survival of their race

As their heels hit the terrace



The undenying sound of unison echoes

Thereafter deafening silence

Marching, one foot at a time

Each foot forward a step in the right line

Every step a step to hardwork

The tumultuous water drops

The scorching sun blaze

The whirling wild winds

We have conquered

And as our muddy naked boots strike the ground

Every effort, every sweat worth the prize

Our journey miles

But a toil with a friend inspiring



We all constitute a multitude

But our strength in fortitude

For there is a time

A season for everything

Now is our time to toil

With all our strength and vigor

With all our might and candor

For with tears in our eyes

We secure our lives

Every tear worth a thousand laughs

A mighty bargain

For only those with clairvoyance

Who see beyond the now

For the storms are coming

With its ravaging force of nature


But in the midst of the storm

We would celebrate

With our hearts sunken with laughter

And our mandibles drunk with joy

With our bellies filled with butterflies

With our eyes brimming with life

And with our antenna’s full of pride

In knowing we had overcome

Daddy’s Little Girl

black girl

“Go to daddy,” Mom said, beckoning me to move closer to dad. Mom and Dad were both still in bed, covered in the big, fluffy duvet, with only their faces and necks jutting out. I sat by the edge of the bed, contemplating whether or not to obey Mom.

“You have bed wet again, haven’t you?” Mom said with a frown. “She’s getting too old for this,” she said to Dad.

“Oh baby,” Dad said with a forced smile. “You can come over. It’s okay,” he said to me, before stealing a quick gulp of the drink by his bedside.

I looked at Mom, looked at Dad and then, turned to Mom again.

Mom shook her head, sprang out of bed and dashed into the bathroom.

“She’ll get used to it,” Mom said as she bathed, referring to our current ‘situation’. We had just moved into this one-room apartment. Mom had told me this was only temporary as she and Dad would soon be over their financial problems. What I hated most about our ‘situation’ was that, at eleven, I had to share the same bed with Mom and Dad.

Mom came out of the bathroom, already dressed.

“I have to see Mama Ngozi at the market. She promised to assist me with some money today,” Mom said to Dad. Then she turned to me, “Clean the room before leaving for school. Take this,” she dropped a fifty naira note on the bed. “Get something to eat.” With those words, she kissed Dad and bolted out of the room.

After some time, Dad looked at me with a wry smile.

“Listen,” he said. “If you stop being childish, I’ll treat you like my daughter. Now come to bed to daddy.”

Today, I dreamt a dream.


Today, I dreamt a dream.

That the world came to an end.

I was in a room with my brother. Or whoever it was.
We were doing whatever it was that we were doing. Then, we heard a terrific thud. The glass windows shook but did not break, the doors trembled but did not shatter. My brother and I rushed over to the window. We saw the thick blue sky move.

Like the sea.

It troubled and troubled and troubled. Then, it began merging with the earth, only this time, the earth was not grey or brown. It was blue, just like the sea. Maybe we were in a high storey building by the riverside, overlooking the waters. Maybe it was the watery clouds which troubled above us that had now fallen to the ground. I had no idea. I still have no idea.

But, the sky above us was blue and moving downwards, and the earth beneath us was blue and moving.

Then something happened which I can’t remember. And everything else became blurred. I was not sure what was happening, but I was sure the world was coming to an end. This was not the first, weird, unfathomable dream I would be having about the world coming to an end.

But it sure was a dream.

That the world came to an end.

It’s never too late to say this

goal Photo credit: http://rsmollisonread.com/my-2015-writing-goals/

My 2015 writing goals?

No. I stopped setting writing goals since…this year.

Now to the purpose of this post… I know this might be coming late, but it’s never too late to say happy new year.  I bless the good Lord who made it possible for us to see 2015. It was not by our power nor by our might. If it had not been the Lord who had been on my side, I would have been history by now. Despite my unfaithfulness, He still showered me with His steadfast love. 2014 was a particularly amazing year for me. Not so great for my writing craft, but in other respect, it was amazeballs!!! For starters, I celebrated one year anniversary at my paid job in December 2014. Wait, did you think I write for a living? Really? Nah, I don’t write (creative fiction/non-fiction) for a living. Not just yet. It’s something I intend doing later in life. For now, I write for the love of the craft. Okay. I was saying I celebrated one year anniversary on my paid job in December 2014. As most of you don’t know, I was thrown into the labour market some two years ago as a Corper (whatever this word actually mean in English). By the end of my service year (December 2013), the good Lord provided me with a job, which, by its requirements, I was the least qualified for. You know when you apply as a youth corper for a job, which basic qualification for, is to have at least 3 years post-NYSC work experience? Yup, that was the sort of job I applied for. And I was hired.

Before December 2014, when I celebrated a year on the job, the Lord blessed me with this beauty below: car   If you are friends with me on facebook, you would have seen my post on the above. One thing you may not know, is that, within two weeks of getting it, I was welcome into the club of fresh owners with three “bashes”. One was self inflicted, the other two were courtesy of our friends who drive that yellow whale on Lagos roads.  Good Lord, did I almost cry?…Anyway, story for another day….

Asides the material gifts, the Lord also blessed me emotionally and spiritually. My mental strength toughened in 2014. I became braver than I was in 2013 and I was able to face and withstand seeming challenges without breaking.

My inter-personal relationship with fellow humans also blossomed in 2014. I love keeping to myself, but in 2014,  I made sure I made some new acquaintances. Just a few, though.

I also tried to know God more. Yes, the key word is “Tried”,because, truth be told, I am not yet where I want to be spiritually. But yes, I grew in that regard in 2014. I just want to better it in 2015.

Health-wise, the Lord was also faithful to me. I did not have any reason to visit any hospital in 2014. It’s been about three years now since I last visited a clinic. And it’s a testimony for me. The closest I came to visiting a place full of drugs is the pharmacy to buy paracetamol.  And oh, I also bought anti-malarial dose once in 2014. *wide grin*

My love life also finally  took a turn in the positive direction for the first time in four years. Shussh..Story for another day.

God has started 2015 in grand style for me as well. On the 6th of January, 2015 as I was driving home from work at night, one of those  fine boys who rob unsuspecting motorists and pedestrians along Iyanoworo/Car Wash axis came over to my car whilst I was in traffic. He pointed a gun at me and demanded for my phone…or my life. I starred at this guy for God-knows-how-long without flinching, not because I was brave, but for whatever-reason-it-was, I did not move at the sight of his gun to my face. As he cocked his gun and made more dramatic demands, God took care of the situation by making a way out. I did not lose any personal belonging or my life. What more can I ask of the Most High who promised us the gift of life and was faithful to His word when I needed it most?   Why am I sharing the above with you? We are encouraged in the following Bible verses to do so: Luke 8: 39, Psalm 71: 15 – 18, Mathew 10:32, 1 John 1: 1- 4.

Let me also use this opportunity to say a big thank you to everyone who visited my blog last year, commented on a post or suggested ways to better my craft. God bless you richly. In 2014, I hit over 100 likes on my facebook page here. Thanks to everyone who like my page, follow me on Twitter, instagram or add me on BBM.

I have a feeling 2015 is going to be an awesome year for everyone reading this. As for my writing, some of my plans that have been incubating for a while now should manifest this year by the grace of God. If you have been following my writing, I would love if you could apply some more pressure on me to write more. I have some “crazy” readers like that. They buzz me every now and then to remind me to post a story or two. I need more of these buzzes. They jolt me out of my struggles-of-life-induced reverie.