An Apology and A New Story.
There are some things we do, or feel obliged to do, not because people ask or because if we don’t do these things we’d be crucified. But we feel as though it is a duty and sometimes if we don’t do these things, we feel bad, or ashmed, or apologetic. Of course most of these things are dependent on culture and repeated actions over a period of time. They are not duties. I would have called them expectations but really, they might not even be expected by anybody sometimes. Nevertheless, these things exist. An example is buying bread whenever you’re returning home from a journey. Of course if you are a parent, this is more of an expectation as your children will be waiting at home with a pot of beans, waiting for you to bring the needed requirement for the beans to settle in the right place in the stomach.
Any time I’m going home for break, I feel obliged to buy something. Most times, I forget and then I get home and I feel a little bit apologetic to no one but myself. Another example you might be able to relate with is the apology you give when you call someone for the first time after months of silence. There is no law that states you have to apologize, especially when this person also hasn’t called you in a long time. But you apologize anyway, you say you are sorry and the creature on the other side of the phone says it’s fine. No wahala.
Why all these apologetic words? (Pun? Michael Tolulope, did I get it right?) Because I am feeling apologetic. I don’t know if I am supposed to but I feel I should. It’s been more than a month since I posted here. And that’s not too cool. I feel you deserve an explanation. The thing is, I don’t even know if there is an an explanation. Not blogging is like war. When you start, you know what you are doing and why you are doing it. But as you go deeper and longer into the war, you don’t even know why you started the war. The only thing you know now is that you must be on the winning side when you finally lay down your arms. You are now fighting for survival. So really, I don’t know why I haven’t blogged for all this while. Of course if you put a gun to my head and tell me to give you reasons, I’ll give you a million reasons. No data. No muse. No music. No time. I’ll give you a million lies. But really, there is no need for that.
I have made many promises here and I have broken them all. I once promised to post twice a week and I failed. I then promised once in a week and that failed too. I think the only thing that will not fail is once a month. But then, that’s not too good. You guys didn’t subscribe to my blog only to get notifications twelve times a year. So I won’t do that. But I’ll try once a week again. I know I had tried it before but then, give me a second chance. Once a week, no more, no less. Till the their end of the year.
I am working on a fiction series and my next post will probably be the first of many episodes in the series. By ‘working on’, I mean, I am thinking about writing a serialized story here. I haven’t written a single word down. But no wahala. It’s a very beautiful story idea and it will probably make it here soon. Probably.
I think it is good that I started this post on a sorry note because now I can see there are so many people I have to apologize too.
Some days ago, someone messaged me on Messenger and asks why I don’t reply. I wanted to write him a long answer but I didn’t. I just let it go. I did not reply. There are many reasons why I don’t reply my messages on Messenger. One is because I don’t have enough time. Another is that I don’t take my Messenger app serious so I might check it only one in two weeks or a month sometimes. Which means by the time I see your ‘xup’, it is no more useful and I no longer see the need to reply. Why don’t I take my Messenger app serious? Because I have WhatsApp and I believe if it is urgent or serious, you should be able to get to me on WhatsApp. And if you don’t have my number, it just means it isn’t that important because my numbers are all over my social media account. And even on this blog. And also, if the message is official, I have an email address. And so I don’t take my Messenger app serious and I therefore don’t reply messages. And I might still not reply them tomorrow. Désolé.
On the serialized story that I may write. It will be written from a first person perspective, which means you’ll be seeing a lot of ‘I’s and ‘We’s but don’t be deceived, it is fiction. Some of what you’ll see will seem so real, you’d want to believe it’s the truth. Believe me when I say it’s not. It’s not. It is going to be a very personal story but because some people have threatened to send me letter bombs, there will be no deaths. No body will die. Not even the guy that will be so close to death, you’d go get a casket. And then he won’t die. He will live, because I don’t want to die reading some letter sent by an assassin.
Humpf! Enough of the hints. I will write a serialized story about 6 students in a fictional Obafemi Awolowo University and how they navigate their life; academics, social life and their religious life. Yes. I WILL write this story. Today is Thursday. The first episode will be out before the end of the week.
To keep me going, I’ll need response. Biko! Ejoorh. Comments. Likes. For those of you who want to slide into my DM, why not?! Why do in have a DM if you can’t slide in? Go on and slide.
Okay. I think we are done here. So till Saturday when I drop the first story about some six fake students in a fake Obafemi Awolowo University, stay safe. Eat well. Drink Solo Coke. And anticipate. Au revoir.
PS: I’m sure you guys know by now that my pictures don’t always have something to do with my post. I just pick a cool picture I love and I use it.