“Doesn’t being Nigerian make you immune to human suffering?” These being the words of Right Honorable Sir Farouk that were spoken once upon a chat. Now let us go into Nigerian movie mode and indulge me and take a flashback to an earlier point in time, circa when I first went to the US. Well maybe not exactly the first time but around the first charity event I could vividly remember going to in college. It was something or the other about Ugandan child soldiers and it was a documentary screening followed by a talk about the situation at the time and how we could get involved or donate to help these former Ugandan child soldiers get the rehabilitation they needed. Now while the documentary was going on, I looked left and right and noticed that the oyibo people were shedding tears or at least a tear dropped while they were watching the sad story. I maintained a pretty (or handsome) straight face, I was more of trying to figure out what the documentary was about and although it did make me a bit sad, I wasn’t filled the urge to adopt a million former child soldiers and no I did not shed a tear. Was something wrong with me? Of course there is the role that being brought up a man in Nigeria/Africa plays. You are supposed to be all strong and stoic, the perfect Robocop with little or no emotions. But that is not the crux of it, recently I realized that part of the reason that the suffering of these other people did not bother me was because I was brought up in Nigeria…

Yes, yes I went there. Shoot me or sue me. I m bullet and lawyer proof! So I have a theory to support my assertion that immunity to the suffering and plight of others can be linked to being brought up in Nigeria. In summary, my theory is that majority of Nigerians even those who live in the bubble of the upper class are witness to the suffering that goes on in our society and ignore this suffering so much so that they become numb to suffering. For example, in a lot of cities in Nigeria there are beggars on the streets, a lot of them with all sorts of physical challenges and so on and yes people do give them alms/donations but there is something detached about even doing that which prevents majority of Nigerians from truly empathizing with the plights of these less fortunate ones in our society. And of course you have stories of people disappearing once they hand one of these beggars money, stories how some of these beggars have mansions somewhere and were told by the babalawo to come beg or something, or the religious or tribal sentiment (I call this the “why should I give money to these dirty mallams who won’t hesitate to slit my throat if given a chance”) that prevent certain people from giving to these people. Of course there are those of us that feel these people are a nuisance and applaud attempts by government to get them removed from the cities.
I would be amiss to mention the also equally Nigerian syndrome of “I don’t care unless it directly affects me, my family or someone I know”. This attitude is not outright said but it plays out in the way we react to tragedy was a nation. The typical cycle is that some form of tragedy happens, people who are somewhat directly affected or know someone who is affected get sad and react, others feign sympathy and thank God that they or anyone they know did not suffer from the tragedy and soon enough they forget about the initial tragedy and move on their regular business, why? Because that’s the Nigerian way. This also plays a part in why we are numb to suffering.

I would remiss to not mention how once upon a time we were the happiest people on earth according to some poll or whatever. Well I think its not so much that we are happy despite all the poor conditions in our country, it is a case of the rich and middle class routinely ignore the poor unless of course the poor are related to them. The rich are too busy taking care of their constituency (their immediate and extended family, their village, local government, ethnic group or people from their state) to genuinely care about other poor people, the sense of duty to this constituency prevents them from empathizing with their suffering. They help them out and hence their poor relations and constituency pray for them to succeed while hoping to strike it rich themselves. The poor on their own end don’t have time to pay attention to the suffering of others poorer or on their level because they are hustling to make it and are probably highly invested in religion because of course our society glorifies the attainment of wealth through supernatural means (blog topic?) without necessary doing what the rich do to get rich. You see ask any rich Nigerian how he/she got their wealth and the popular refrain is “Na God o”. You would think God came down from heaven with a bag of dollars and gave it to them while the poor man must have been sleeping on the said day. So the poor pray to get rich and are not empathic to the plight of others.

Its my generalization to which of course there are exceptions that Nigerians (I included) are great and all round good people but we are set up to be immuned to the suffering of our fellow countrymen. For some reason we brush off death, suffering, poverty and the likes as part of God’s will. They probably are but damn, a lot of people act like life is continuation of the sperm race where we all hustled and pushed to get to the ovary first without any care for the plight of our fellow sperms to be born. Personally, I think I am numb to suffering because I live in a society where suffering has become a part of our daily life.

So is the cure for suffering being Nigerian? Does me theory hold water? When last did you cry for Nigeria and not because someone you know died of the Nigerian condition (accident, BH, etc)? Why are we so numb as a people? Are we truly the happiest people on earth? Or do we just ignore our problems?

Aboki Shine my Shoe!

Ladies and gentlemen, I am back once again. I cannot say categorically if I am back for good, for that you will have to ask my oga at the top (Yes, I know the joke is old). I haven’t written in a minute, I would have liked to blame a lack of free time brought about by being on an intensive training program that required a lot of studying but nah I do not think I studied that hard, I just used my free time to watch a lot of tv series, movies, drink a lot of brew and be a semi man-slut. You see I turned to alcohol and women of not so hard virtue to cure my itch to write add that to my penchant for procrastination and you have a blogger that has not blogged in a while. What else is new? Did I mention I am finally out of Warri, that is if you knew I was in Warri to begin with. My writing routine has gone the way of my exercise routine, I do not exercise as much as I used to and that is just a darn shame. I have gained some girth and a little bit of a protruding belly. It’s a mess.

Now I absolutely know that I and I alone am to blame for my loss of shape. Thank goodness, John Thomas is still working or I would be depressed as hell. I hear people saying potbellies are sexy, no! Go to jail, go directly to jail do not pass go and do not collect $200! The general mentality about fitness and body physique in Nigeria is a bit confusing and at times can be sexist in the sense that women who have potbellies are not seen as being sexy and here I am guilty as well. Abeg abeg abeg, I was in Warri and dude! Its like the potbelly Olympics up in there, 90% of ladies I saw had a potbelly (of course I m not going to talk about their face-cap, for those who know waffi you know what I m talking about) and no not the little cute “maybe I m a little obese” type either, it was the “o boy give me 6 bottles of star beer” type or the “I m skinny from the sides protruding from the front” you would think I m either pregnant or suffer from kwashiorkor.

Kidding aside, I believe we have a fitness problem especially amongst city folk. Its like once folk leave the village and stop farming all form of exercise stop. Out of shape as hell and maybe just maybe that is why some of y’all need burantashi to even just qualify for the heats of the bedroom Olympics. Say it aint so! There is a general belief that wealth entitles you to eat as much as you want and for the most part a lot of people in our cities eat what they want without regard for dietary needs and exercise none. It is when they get to their 40s or 50s and the doctor tells them they have cholesterol problem that they start doing some darn aerobics or start subscribing to a boatload of slimming teas, multivitamins of the ilk of “tianshi”, “Edmark”, “GNLD”, “Forever living”. These people buy into these franchises that sell supplements for a healthy life and forget that part of living a healthy life is exercise. Basically all these products are scams that keep taking people’s money to do what can be done naturally and as a way of life. People be sipping ginseng coffee like it is the cure for their potbellies and turn around and eat 5 wraps of pounded yam with greasy equsi soup and 4 large pieces of meat with fat embedded of course.

Folk who try to stay fit are seen as odd. Back when I used to jog around my neighborhood every morning, people would gawk like bush men and I would find it exceedingly difficult to explain to someone that jogging is not just for losing weight, it is also to keep healthy because folk were like ”o boy you wan become lean like bonga fish, this one wey you dey run like say mami water dey chase you for dream”. Of course there are people reading this who genetically predisposed to look fit, I have some unfortunate news for you, you could be unfit too. Looking all lean and mean till you fall and have a cardiac episode (obviously I wish this on no one)

I partly wrote this to get me out of my exercise funk and found that I have very few people to walk the path of fitness with. So I m looking for a exercise buddy, preferably female of a discerning shape and wears tight tights and can teach me yoga or we can do pilates together, shikena! Maybe we can do Kanye’s workout plan together 

Disclaimer: I still think that Orobo you toh bad!

So do we have a fitness culture, what with all the fat policemen, pot bellied 30 year olds walking around. Do we need the whole nation to go on the insanity workout? Speak your piece.

I m not one to jump on the bandwagon but I believe today is an exception. I am a fan of Chinua Achebe. He was in my opinion the Grandfather of the Nigerian Literary Renaissance. I say renaissance which connotes a rebirth because I firmly believe he was first and foremost a storyteller of the ilk of men and women of Nigerian and African past who told stories around the fire. You see we had always told stories in Africa despite what the colonialists might have thought. We passed down our stories in a rich oral tradition, it was a tradition I believe Chinua was a child of. He wrote in a style that once could almost imagine that he was hearing his voice tell a story much like the tales by moonlight of our childhoods.

He inspired generations of writers after him. Heck, between you and I the only reason I ever picked up Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda was because I had heard she was the Achebe of our generation or something of the sort. Suffice to say, I was not disappointed. He explored themes of colonialism, the clash of cultures, political instability, oppression, corruption and moral decay of society. His characters were full of life and multidimensional. It was sometimes difficult to pinpoint a “good guy” and “bad guy”.

He would be most remembered for things fall apart, his blockbuster hit if there is any such accolade to accord a literary work. It was a poignant work that does highlight in my opinion the constant clash between our traditions, cultures and values and what can be described as western traditions, cultures and values. It is highlights what perhaps was the beginning of the Jesus-ification and Mohammed-ization of our people and the alacrity and vigor with which our people accepted these religions. Everytime I have read it, I think of how anything “traditional” has come to be viewed with disdain in contemporary Nigerian and perhaps African culture. The “white man” brought a culture of self-hate all in the name of a resurrected God while preaching love. The contradictions of the beliefs of the contemporary African man and woman make for a fascinating study and his book alludes to this clash of cultures.

No longer at ease, Man of the People, Anthills of the Savannah, Arrow of God and of course There was a Country are his other books that I have read. The man was simply brilliant. I read there was a country with an open mind and frankly I believe he wrote it as he saw it, nothing controversial and history seems to back most of the story. Many of the things he talked about in his books, be they corruption be they the replacement of white colonial masters with black ones who steal and lot and deceive their people all in the name of power and wealth are still happening today.

Chinua Achebe was more than just a story teller, he was a true Nigerian, he was a prophet. His books could have easily been written today as they were written decades ago. Nigeria is still suffering, people are hungry, dying while the elite (perhaps I included), feast and make merry. In a country of “as long as doesnt affect someone I know” mentality, Achebe was a true patriot who recognized the realities and differences we have as a people. A true intellectual, a father, a grandfather and a literary giant.

In all the nine village Okonkwo was widely known, In all corners of the world you made us proud. Adieu Chinua. You live on through your works. If there is an afterlife, may we meet under the great palm tree in the sky and sip on the palm wine of the gods while you continue to tell me stories.

Reblogged from the3six5NG:

So today is my turn on the3six5ng blog, if you havent heard about the project check out what I wrote the other day about it here. You can skip all of that and just go to the website and read, comment, volunteer here.

I kinda have no idea what I m gonna write and I gotta get it out somewhere between 7 and 9pm naija time. At about 630pm, I ll attempt a 30 minute blitz and see what comes out. Wish me luck folks.

I live you with book of rhymes by Nas. That’s what I m currently what I m doing. (writing drafts on my computer and throwing it in the bin…) after going one round in the ring.

Started out with a sip
Ok I lie, more like a guzzle
Now here I am pumping away on the bed
With reckless abandon and aplomb
As she grips the sheets…
They say mind over matter
The mind of a tipsy man elucidates this point
For I did not let my kingdom come
For even though I am engrossed in her pleasure *wink*
my mind is in another realm
Insert suitable flashback here
You see tonight I was transformed
I walked into the booth Clark Kent and came out Superman
Thanks to my friends, beer, gin, vodka, whiskey, rum
And how can I forget my main man Alomo
Such a bitter man he is but quite the excellent wing man on a budget
Quite like the martial art of drunken fist
I am incapable of fun without my elixir
While others thirst for knowledge and spirituality
I thirst for the fluid of life, that potion sent down by the gods
*pours palm wine on the ground*
With every sip I lose my powers of awkward
And assume the powers of awesome
Whoever said cleanliness is next to godliness
Has never experienced the joys of the long island iced tea
Or the pleasures of some Jager bomb
This fluid of variable viscosity turns mortals to demigods
And ogres into beauty queens
If life is about perception then this drink is a game changer
Be it burkutu or palm wine or a glass of white wine
The fluid is a thing of beauty

Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is James and I am an alcoholic. *Waves to the reading public*. Dusts cobwebs. This is where I apologize for not writing in eons but I know that you know I am sorry. It’s not being so much having writer’s block than it has been a lack of inspiration, loads of distractions and procrastination galore. I think I became aware of having some sort of readership and then it became awkward to write because I wasn’t sure I would live up to what I felt were expectations people had of me. Yeah I am a chronic overthinker and self-sabotage a lot. Go figure. Perhaps a blog topic in Le future.

So the um “poem” or collection of lines above apart from showing that I am no Pablo Neruda, Langston Hughes, Keats, Shakespeare, Kipling, Soyinka (See I do know some poets) started out as a kind of joke and this is my first draft of what could be an ode to alcohol. Here goes my disclaimer, the above written tome is a work of a certain Sir Farouk and is in no way a reflection of reality and is entirely fiction, all friends and family of the said Farouk who happen to read this blog should desist from giving the young man advice or shall be found in contempt of the court of awesomeness and be guilty of artistic censorship.

Alcohol and its effects are a hell of a thing. You know I think it is the only drug that tends to have quite disastrous effects that has not been outlawed except in prohibition era America. I am a partaker in the drink occasionally ok maybe not occasionally (God is watching me) more like whenever the opportunity presents itself and I do not have pressing work to do and it’s a weekend. Some might call it social drinking, others might not. Totally up to you. I have been in the Niger Delta area of Nigeria for some months and boy do people know how to drink. I have seen young men finish bottles of whiskey and remain coherent. Although I guess they must have had an organ transplant because their liver must be made of steel!

In other news, people that say they don’t drink but drink Smirnoff ice or some other wine cooler. You are liars! If I had a naira for every lady I have met who has said that, I won’t be a millionaire but I would have a considerable amount of money. If you only drink a drink that has 5% alcohol which is the same amount of alcohol as a bottle of Star beer then dude/dudette you drink alcohol. Just because it is sweet doesn’t make it any less of an inebriant. You should just say, “I only drink *insert name of wine cooler*

Another thing I don’t buy is the alcohol made me do it cartel. Dude whatever you did, somewhere in your subconscious you wanted to do it. Let alcohol alone. If you did not want to do it, you should have drank less or not at all. That being said, alcohol does lower inhibitions and cause people to act irrationally but at the end of the day free will is free will. Alcohol should be taken in moderation if taken at all as it is the leading cause of motor accidents, unwanted babies and poor decisions.

In summary alcohol is a hell of a drug, so reading public. What are your experiences with the juice? What does the juice make you do?

Hi folks, Its me. Yes of course it is me, who else would it be? For those concerned, I am still alive and have a plethora of blog drafts waiting to become actual blog posts. My official excuse for That being said, I was recently co-opted to contribute to the 3six5NG project which will kick off later today.

What is the 3six5NG project and why should you care? Well it is a project billed to capture 365 perspectives over 365 days from different Nigerians. It is a writing project, kind of an IPO (Initial Public Offer) but instead of selling shares it is selling perspectives, Nigerian perspectives. With 365 perspectives, I bet there will be a lot of interesting outlooks out there.

You should check it out when it goes live later today (I m thinking maybe by 10pm GMT?). Over the course of march, a lot of different bloggers will contribute including yours truly (I m on march 21st). Here is the for march. Apart from I and I there will be some of my friends on the blogosphere like: TheRustGeek, SingleNigerian and Kiah for stories that touch the heart, lol.

Ok so what was the point of this drive by post? Hmm, well I know that some of you folk who read this my tiny blog here are writers too so it would be grand if you volunteered to join the project too, you know so we can roll deep like one of those street gangs (No blood though).

Here is the link: About the3six5NG

Oh yeah and welcome to march, Expect a new post from me soon-ish.

Here’s an interesting perspective for ya: Cover your legs! lol

Tomorrow is the season to love and be loved. Whatever your take on whether valentine’s day is a conspiracy by the corporations to milk people out of money seeing as there is no consumer holiday to boost spending in February or you subscribe to marking the day as a veneration of the original “St Valentine” or you just see it as a day to milk as much money from that bf/gf, sugar daddy/mummy, friend zoned individual trying to get in your panties or trying to get them off, or just plain old maga what is undoubtedly true about the 14th of February is that it is a day to show love and be loved and it is a day that highlights what the conception of love is in our society. Here you can insert the obligatory bitching about how materialistic love has become in our society especially Nigeria. *Shrug*. I have tired of talking about it, plus its not that bad if you are not stingy and you know the object of your affection actually likes you and is not using you for your money. It’s also not bad if you recognize the materialistic con and just don’t give a hoot, you just want to use her as much as she is using you. Basically, you’re willing to pay the cost to satisfy your konji. Also helps if you are wealthier than the average dude on the street.

Maybe it’s the fact that today is ash Wednesday and the beginning of lent (Shall I stop being a sinful empty soul? No, not really but I will try to be and do better), I have been quite reflective and the meaning of love and who do I love. I will confess that its been a while since I ve been in love in the Hollywood sense of the word, you know those butterflies in the stomach, cant stop thinking about you type of love. Yeah I actually generally try not to get to that stage of passionate obsessive love because I can be so irrational in such a state. I have had strong feelings for the opposite sex and what I thought was strong chemistry that led me to fall in love with the idea of someone. I tend to fall in love with ideas a lot. Intellectual, beautiful young lady who I have great conversation and share similar thinking patterns with or who challenges me to learn something new instantly captures my attention, she is like my kryptonite. I will fall in love with the idea of her or the soft spoken muse who seems to be mystery hiding a passionate and freakish nature that I would love to discover or just a young lady I have admired from a far for a while. I believe in some way, I kind of love all these people to varying degrees. Of course there is the, sex is so great you blurt out I love you types. No? Not cool? Psssh. Or the motherly type who you are drawn to by her powers of caregiving. I don’t know, when it comes to romantic love, I am often reminded by friends that I don’t seem to have a type and the key to finding that love of a lifetime will be identifying my type.

Then there is the love I am absolutely sure of, the love I can bet anything on. Yes I know the religious ones amongst us are thinking the love of God. Yes that is indeed true but I am talking about the love of my family. The love of my parents, siblings, cousins, aunties, uncles and so on. Anytime I feel lonely the thought of having such a wonderful family and extended family keeps me sane and grounded. Like really, I do have an awesome family. Yeah I m bragging. Sometimes I wonder where I get some of my insecurities from, it might be a byproduct of too much love and it makes me clingy at times.

Anyway, what am I doing on valentine’s day? I am gonna call my mother and father and make sure the old man is doing something for her or taking her out. I will tell them I love them and then call or message all my lady friends and family who are special to me and wish them a happy valentine’s day. As for the romantic date, gift and so on that happen during valentine’s day, I do not have any plan for the day as I m busy as hell. Shrug.

So who do I love? It seems I love my family, friends and blog readers *wink wink*. It does seem that I forgot someone important to love, myself. You cant give what you don’t have. I m working on loving myself, aren’t we all? Happy Valentine’s day everybody. Who do you love? What do you think love is? Do you celebrate valentine’s day? What do you think of the day and celebration in general

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING BLOG MIGHT BE UNSUITABLE FOR YOUNGER READERS

So the 17th of January was my birthday. His Royal Highness, the Kpoi Kpoi of Waffi Kingdom, the Prince of Zamunda aka DJ Zamunda aka Usain Bolt eats my dust aka Adamawa boy toh bad turned the big Quarter Century. I share my birthday with Muhammad Ali (Maybe I am the greatest?). I guess I m a young old man. I can hear you saying, “Is he really that young? He talks like he is way older.” Shrug. It seems that this blog has become more personal. Growth? Retardation? I have no idea. I have become numb to what is going on in the world. Add to that being so busy with work and training and being more of less satisfied and mentally/emotionally balanced and you have a blogger that does not blog as much. What?! Sue me! Nah, I m kidding. You know I love you.

So what did I do for my birthday? Hmmm…ate like a fat kid…cake and pizza. Had a pretty good day, there was an outpouring of love, from friends, family, acquaintances and total strangers. My twitter, facebook, phone and even skype was pretty busy all day. Had a few drinks with the homies late at night after attempting to study and then it was copulus maximus before bed (decode if you will). The actual party or something like it will be on Saturday. Its about to be legendary!

All in all, I had a great birthday. Thank you everyone.
On to the madness of the day, today is Friday and I pretty much going to be busy with work and studying. Got a test tomorrow so no TGIF. Anyhoo, here is a little something I cooked up, will call it “Freaky Friday” or “Kama Farouk”. Think Kama Sutra by Sir Farouk. Stay tuned…

“She held my hand and dragged me into her inner sanctum with pleading eyes and persuasive hips. The room was warm and cool at the same time. Warm to the body but cool in its calmness. I looked ahead to the bed, anxious of what seemed sure to follow. She reached forth her hand to my cheeks and directed my gaze to hers. Needless to say my paramour had quite the set of hypnotic eyes. It was as though the eyes drew me closer to her as I leaned in to plant a kiss on her lips. She responded with a silent coo and kissed me back as I could sense our collective temperatures rising. Her breathing was one of a lady anticipating something great; it was measured yet fast paced. I would like to say mine was cool as a cucumber but alas she had me all hot and bothered. As both our lips parted and my tongue engaged in a sultry dance with hers gently touching and caressing it, my hands slowly worked their away along the length and breadth of her body as she held on to me. My fingers walked on her bare skin sending a trickle of a tickle and I noticed a trace of an electric response from her.

As we moved closer to the bed in what can best be described as synchronized passion I could feel the blood coursing through my veins and arteries all going to the same destination leaving me light headed. Engorged with passion yet tactical in my approach, I kissed her on the neck ever gently nibbling and caressing the nape of her neck with my lips.

As though called upon by the force of gravity, I could not resist the pull of her centre of gravity as it drew me downwards and I kissed my way down there savoring each and each every contact my lips made with her wayward yet cherub like skin. Along the way I made a pit stop at her oh so succulent and tender mammaries with her nipples poised and standing at attention. It was a salute to the salivary prowess of my tongue and the sensory transmittal of my hands and the reception of her skin. It was heaven to touch and taste. My tongue swirling round the areola, occasionally stopping to suckle lightly, my hands moving ahead of my tongue to what could be termed her pleasure spot. I rubbed it gently for you see it was as though it had a magical connection to her brain and her mouth. Her bodily reaction told me if was doing the right thing or not.

While rubbing, my tongue finally caught up with my fingers. The fingers entered into her cave of wonders and then wiggled and bent in various directions while I recited my alphabets with my tongue. Over time my alphabet had improved and going by her bodily reaction I must have far exceeded basic reading and was reading at a mensah level with my tongue….

After I had felt that I had done enough prep work and served the appetizers, it seemed that the time for the main course had come going by her pleading for it….”

To be continued, stay tuned for part 2 (you might grow old waiting). Alas, I feel that for me to divulge any more, I would stand the change of being exposed for the hedonist I am and be accused of not being a gentleman. I have always wanted to try sensual writing.

TGIF Folks, Comment, Judge, Interact, Criticize, Share. I d love to hear your thoughts or um experiences…

Ladies, Gentlemen and other not so cultured people of the reading public, it’s your favorite or not so favorite fair weather blogger and friendly neighborhood pseudo-writer (Let me indulge myself), Alhaji Saint Sir Farouk the First of Gwara-gwara land and Prince of Zamunda. I know that this time of the year is one of somber reflection and a time to make resolutions and whatnot. I personally prefer to do my Alingo, Azonto and Komole as I gather my thoughts.

If you are reading this, you survived the end of the world or at least the end of the world according to the Mayans.
So Yay you, bring out a bottle of cheap beer or ale and pop in celebration. Clap for yourself, do the hokey pokey and shake your bum bum (cue aptly named Timaya track). 2012 is over. We are now in 2013. I am sure by now you have been inundated with text messages, bbm broadcast, twitter and whatsapp messages as well as phone calls from friends, family, acquaintances and people you barely know. Did I mention also from sketchy hookups of 2012? Yeah, them too. They have no doubt chosen to compose an elaborate Happy New Year’s message in the typical Nigerian fashion that goes like “Happy New Year blah blah, God will grant you blah blah in 2013, joy (I prefer irish spring soap), peace (not piss you big freak!) and blah blah shall never depart from you. 2013 will be your year of *insert appropriate Pentecostal babble here*…” or something of the sort.

That being said and on a quite serious note (think sitting on the toilet trying to squeeze out some constipated waste type of serious), I am thankful for being able to successfully see through the year 2012. 2012 was a good year in many respects. It was the year I got a job. Your boy is no longer a bum. Can I get an Amen or a High five? Both equally symbolic. It was a year I had a stable and peaceful relationship, at least up until May when Le break happened. It was the year I moved back to my beloved Nigeria for what seems to be for good (National anthem plays in the background). It was a year a made quite a number of friends on the internet, in the blogging world, twitter and online dating (yea I have been on some of those sites). It was also the year I had a few pseudo-relationships online and flirtations with people I am yet to meet especially on twitter. It was a year I reconnected with my ex from the longest relationship I have ever had and realized that I still have a thing for every girl I have ever dated but especially this one. In some universe, it would have worked (Drake mode).

It was a year where I got a little bit of more leeway from my parents (still get treated like a kid though but its improving). It was a year that I was somewhat quite religious in the summer then fell off subsequently (Jesus take the wheel!). 2012 was the year where I did the most exercise (picture me jogging and going to the gym) and actually kind of became a fitness freak. In 2012, Konji was at an all-time low and might have been my best year in that department since college. (TMI? Man-whore? Hug transformer). Lastly, In 2012 I survived about 2 situations (that I can remember) that could have led to death (Do I hear you say I have 7 lives left, here’s to not dying in 2013), well for that I thank the big man above, baba God noni.

As for my plans for 2013, I plan to stop procrastinating like a mofo. In 2013 I hope to be a man of action. I need to stop overthinking life and just do things. In 2013, I will work to see my ideas become reality. In 2013, I will be a better friend and keep in touch with people especially family. I plan to workout more in 2013, operation 007 body is in full effect. I plan to moderate my drinking more and my diet. In 2013, I will be a better lover. I will also work to stop being so awkward all the damn time, stop being passive aggressive and learn to say when I’m grieved instead of keeping it all bottled up. In 2013, I hope to have a better relationship with and understanding of God. I will work harder at life and stop trying to coast on whatever innate knowledge I have. I will grow my wealth in 2013. I will mature as a person. 2013 is the year I start a more serious search for the one, I will find my Queen to be in 2013. , Did I mention I will continue to write!

So that’s it from me folks. Happy New Year!!! I love you all. I wish you only the best in the coming year. So I shared the highlights of my 2012 and what I hope to achieve in 2013. I would love for the bold ones amongst us to share what their 2012 was like and what they hope to achieve in the coming year.

A dap for the guys and a hug for the ladies (frontal please!) from me. See you in the comments!