Caught in the act of keyboard bashing again

The incurable itch

There are times when I delude myself into thinking I am a writer, but the reality might suggest that all these years of blogging are pretensions to an ability I barely possess. "An inveterate and incurable itch for writing besets many, and grows old in their sick hearts." The Roman poet Juvenal's Satires X.

However, the translation from Latin suffers from so many kinds of paraphrasing and interpretation that it has become the more popular variation: "Writing is an incurable itch that affects many." Whilst I might have that occasional itch, it has become quite benign. I cannot be bothered to scratch it, nor is it so serious that I need a salve for it.

It is like learning to live with an infirmity; the inadequacy rings loud in your head, urging you to stop and pursue something else that belies a modicum of talent. On the other side, perhaps persistence counts for something. You do it long enough, it becomes practised, and you grow better at it. You gain the confidence that the little you manage to express can pass muster.

When I woke up just 25 minutes ago to think of something to write before the day's end, I felt it might be a jumble of incoherent words landing in an order that might suggest lucidity, but is clearly a malady bordering on insanity. Who really cares? Just bash the keyboard with your thoughts and see how itchy you really can get.

Am I the writer I could be?

A writer unsure

I have traits, abilities, and skills that I probably know, in other cases have been noticed, but I have rarely had the confidence over self-doubt to use consistently and maybe as profitably as possible.

One of those is writing and the ability to convey complex and difficult ideas easily and comprehensibly. Obviously, my turn of phrase and use of expression can be quirky, queer, and unusual. I have decided that is my voice, the range in which it is heard and read is characteristically mine, and so, I have resisted certain requirements to conform to a style guide, my blog becoming my bailiwick of boundless expression.

A writer constrained

Well, I want to believe that my expression is boundless, but it hardly is, I have to take into consideration the cloud of witnesses, known and unknown who might misread, misconstrue, or misunderstand. Those who have access to me would seek clarification whilst others would run along with their misconception and subscribe to conjecture, over which I have no control.

Then again, I am not writing scripts that need some tight direction, I think I am inclined to the story-form narrative, the way my observations bring forth interesting perspectives and the short blog is a good vehicle for that.

A writer student

I guess I have struggled with the long-form novel, particularly what might become my autobiography. A few chapters have been written but this is where I am beginning to think I need some tutelage or school, something to break through that feeling of incapacity and limitation.

I do not know if that can be taught and learned, but I am quite willing to try. It might be one of the courses in tertiary education I embark on.

For now, I am still thinking of what ideas and celebrations should greet my 20 years of blogging. I do wonder what should be done.

Thought Picnic: Writing and the virtue of self-forgiveness

Forgiving ourselves as we write

"The more important virtue for a writer, I believe, is self-forgiveness." Elizabeth Gilbert

I cannot agree more, as each time I write I feel like I am undressing myself, looking deep into myself sometimes to the greatest discomfort and discomfiture.

Yet, between licence, liberty and limitation, one must assess what must be written and what must only be thought of. For without balance the risk is to publish and from there comes damnation. You cannot be wiser after the fact once the horses have bolted.

A writer possesses a mirror to the soul, whether the soul is full of light or darkness is for that person to honestly admit to themselves or ignore at their peril, but whatever they see inside, the writer must observe and learn or be blind and suffer. Though some for the lack of conscience do write only for their bellies; unprincipled, dishonest and well, reprehensible.

Using it well

We constantly face our frailties and foibles, our weaknesses and worse still the things that we with difficulty admit is our foolishness and stupidity, and there are many instances of such.

As we write, we hope to learn, we hope to improve and maybe express that which is downright silly with wit or even humour, and dare we even try a bit of smartness.

With introspection comes a lot of self-flagellation, sorrowful regret, sometimes shame or even guilt, it is at that time that one should be ready to accept one's fault, forgive oneself and move on.

Decade Blogs - Nike Olatunji-Akioye - Twittersphere

Decade Blogs

As I was trying to drum up support for my #YourBlogOnMyBlog Series commemorating my Decade of Blogging in the early days when I was waiting for blogs to arrive for posting Nike contacted me and asked if I would be willing to have her write for my blog.

Blog - To Celebrate My Decade of Blogging

I was pleased that she offered to write and going through the list of amazing people who contributed to the #YourBlogOnMyBlog Series, I had seven such submissions, going by what we have now, that is a week of blogs.

Whilst she might suggest she is not a writer, our veterinary doctor and I mean doctor with philosophy is quite accomplished, and there are too many examples of the fact that she is much more than she suggests she is, self-effacing humility is something she possesses.

Nike Olatunji-Akioye blogs at http://randomthoughts-n.blogspot.com/ and uses the Twitter handle @imagervet

She writes about that vibrant other world of Twitter where empires and power plays reign, where the good, the bad and the ugly of our humanity interacts in the marketplace of agreement, disagreement, humour, seriousness and the essential abuse. We have a roll call of Twitter handles I would think any reader of this blog would find as good suggestions as any to follow.

Twittersphere

I joined Twitter in 2010 and did not really begin to use it seriously till 2011. I was in a serious relationship with Facebook is the reason why. Well, I was, till my wall became a hunting ground for some jobless people (read men) who made it their life’s work to update the significant other (who wanted no part of social media) on every word and nuance of my status updates and I suspect, the hidden meanings of every other word, like they knew what my intent was. Long story short, I packed up my dodgy English and moved on, while singing, ‘to the left, to the left….’ a la Beyonce.

So, I arrived Twitter and was determined to do a better job than I had done with Facebook and so spent quite a bit learning and ‘ghost-mode-ing’, all to the end that I would provide less fodder for the jobless ones who contract-stalk me for relevance to Le hubby.

I found that the same issues as with any (public) gathering of people exists on Twitter as with all human gatherings. Leaders emerged, whether naturally or the thrust of greatness (and sometimes something else) upon such people (or shall we say, in light of recent happenings) handles. Some appropriated leadership by notoriety and as with all human associations, cliques and groups formed and sociology determined the rest.

It has been amusing, to say the least, to watch the whole of Twittersphere evolve (or should that be devolve?). Though some imagine their reasons for being on there are different than most others, I am happy to tell you, you differ not at all. Most all of those who use Twitter are exhibitionist, opinionated, educated, drama queens (gender be damned!). We like others to hear us, and we need an outlet for the words that we are unsure how those who are around us will handle them, and so we find the set stage of Twitter the perfect backdrop for our ... whatever.

A big reason Twitter appealed to me was the ease with which links were tweeted and the access I got to blogs that I do not even follow. I have read some offerings from such a huge range of writers that it is even difficult to follow any blogs nowadays. I find it far easier to just click on those links that I wish to read. My morning ritual includes opening up the links to articles from blogs that look appealing for me to read when I have a minute during my day.

I remember reading the series from @toyinfab every Wednesday morning before she got married and marital bliss took her off. I remember finding some of the articles from @Anabagail's 38 series interesting also. I remember an epic article on education reforms by @ikhide whom I think should move to Nigeria to help whip the tertiary education into shape.

It’s been very gratifying to have me inspire @JustJoxy to write cos I think she is good at it when she is not busy cooking up a storm. I have learnt more than I care for about mobiles from reading @Mister_Mobility who really is great at what he does. @famuyideolawale is someone who writes from the heart, and I think is a great reader and encourager also, many links, he pointed me to.

Some of the biggest issues in Twittersphere are what status a person has and while I am unaware of the Council that determines these things, I have found it very amusing to see tweeps appropriate status to themselves that is slightly different from what really is true. Some think people follow them for varied reasons and even begin to guess at the reasons during some of their really (my guess) difficult days. If anyone on Twitter is anything like me, reasons for following could range from amusement all the way through derision and sometimes, (like in my case) too many boring meetings to get through *dodges shoe*

Interactions between tweeps sometimes read nice and are great fodder for an imaginative junkie like myself. Sadly, they are sometimes less than savoury and being objective may be difficult when all of the information is not available to one. For me, being slightly younger in my mind than people my age (not on the level of Ikhide who is always 32 or thereabout), I find that speaking right may sometimes cause a re-think and an adjustment but when such an opportunity presents itself and is allowed to slip away, it saddens me greatly.

Some of my favorite tweeps include but are not limited to @Nusaybah09, @sagaysagay, @KwamiAdadevoh and his twit-wife, @dupekilla who sometimes provide almost ‘Fuji House of Commotion’-esque amusement with their very naughty ‘children’. @aeolofintuade, @ShecrownLita, @Rockabam and @PearlOsibu provide deep reason for joy at being female.

There’s that old man @akinsoke who together with @forakin and @thewordsmythe scare the bejesus out of my English-challenged mind. [Note from Akin: Don’t know what she is talking about, surely we are not sesquipedalians.] I always have Google open when chatting with them; a dependable friend and help out of every comprehension bottle-neck.

Those who read me, know, I started blogging only a little over a year ago and that I am ‘artistic’ (LWKMD!) enough that I can sometimes go several days (read weeks) without writing anything. So imagine my consternation at learning that @forakin has been doing this for ten years. TEN YEARS?!!! And then, imagine how excited I was to have him ask me to do a post?

I just felt very honoured and very ‘artistic’ (I am actually feeling like a writer right now!). I had read of his health challenges and felt such kinship with him not because I had had the same health issues but because human health issues scare me. I am grateful he’s bested that monster and here’s to multiples more of ‘ten years of blogging’ and do forgive any conjugatory or less than stellar English in this and any other interactions we have, as you probably well know, ayam (I am) not English, nor can write it but I sure do enjoy reading when you write it!

Decade Blogs - Ayo Sogunro - Gone Blogging, Back Soon

Decades Blogs

To the Nigerian Twitterverse, Ayo Sogunro probably needs no introduction as the cerebral and very reasonable legal brain who will tackle issues we so easily get emotive and sentimental about with passionate yet objective adherence to logical thinking.

I guess getting Ayo to write a blog for my #YourBlogOnMyBlog Series commemorating my Decade of Blogging is the equivalent of a scoop. Not only did he immediately respond to my request, he came back with reassurances that his promise would be delivered.

Blog - To Celebrate My Decade of Blogging

On Twitter Ayo exudes wit and his blogs are well-constructed persuasive legal arguments on thorny contemporary issues in Nigeria as child marriage and the outlier issue of gay marriage.

Why You Should Be Worried About Nigeria’s Anti-Gay Law which he wrote in June 2013.

Ayo Sogunro is the author of The Wonderful Life of Senator Boniface and other Sorry Tales. A lawyer by profession, he also indulges in socio-legal philosophy on www.ayosogunro.com. Interact with him on Twitter via @ayosogunro.

Here Ayo writes about how his desire for the impartation of knowledge has not changed but the theatre has been enhanced by the Internet. Quite a good read from a raconteur.

Gone Blogging, Back Soon

As a university student, I gained a reputation for being rather clever, and the satisfactory nature of this reputation encouraged me to develop an even more satisfactory habit of imparting some of my versatile knowledge to friends and colleagues in the form tutorials.

In the course of time, I had gained a wider reputation as a fine teacher, and I soon got used to hearing complimentary remarks such as: “You teach very well! You ought to become a lecturer, someday!”

Since humans are generally shaped by expectations of society just as much as by their own personal choices, it wasn’t long before the ambition of being a university lecturer gradually settled in my thoughts as though I myself had originated the idea. Also, it was an easy ambition to aspire to: in those days, the qualifications required to be a university lecturer in Nigeria were a fairly simple matter—all you had to do was complete a first degree and then obtain a Master’s degree.

As I was well on the way to finalizing the first requirement, and the second being no more than one more year of the same, I was fairly confident that I would join the ranks of the academia very soon. I was so sure of this that I had already begun to stake out my own office in the staff rooms.

I already had my class schedules figured out, my routine mapped mentally, and in keeping with my character as a young and naïve male—I could picture already the horde of admiring students of the feminine aspect. I was ready to be the archetypal Nigerian lecturer: lording it over enslaved students, my word would be law and my exam scores, final.

But the Nigerian Universities Commission was not so sympathetic to my career ambitions for, just before I left school, it became a requirement that university lecturers had to be possessed of a doctorate degree.

I was quite puzzled by this idea: the logical connection between the ability to educate students and the possession of a certificate for having pursued a research thesis was—and still is—lost on me. And even then, I knew a number of lecturers who bore plain “Mister”, but were absolutely brilliant and even more lecturers that had the now required “Doctor” and who, as the man on the street would put it, “couldn’t teach jack shit”.

But my armchair protest at this unnecessary requirement was in vain. And with that came the dampening realization that three to four more years of study would now be required before I was entitled to brandish my academic lecturing skills. It was quite clear that the NUC had no urgent need for my services.

It was also quite clear that I couldn’t afford to pursue a doctorate degree right after school. In the end, I quietly pushed aside the ambitions to become a career teacher and took up a financially rewarding job instead, and without much ado, the ivory tower and I parted ways.

But along came the Internet, and that has made all the difference.

You see, back in school, the Internet was simply what you called the 30 minute long stare at the rolling icon of Internet Explorer over what was often a dial-up connection that taught you the patience of the gods. Emails and chats were the most interactive form of Internet usage, “Facebook” was just a typographical error to be underlined by Microsoft Word, and blogs—if they existed back then—might as well have been located on the moons of Jupiter.

But, as my professional life budded, and I became more aware of the other world that is the Internet proper, blogs gradually became A THING and soon, I found myself in possession of one. My first blog was a rudimentary package from Blogger that allowed me delusions of grandeur after seeing my name spread out on the Internet browser address bar.

With great grandeur comes great responsibility: blogging was work, and I worked at it. The perseverance paid off. And before long, the readership trickled into the thousands and the lecturing ambitions of my younger years were transmuted into a stream of steady articles for my readers.

The Internet is a school, and the blog is my classroom—and I don’t even have to perform the gruelling task of marking examination scripts. Of course, one comes across comments that make you want to take a stick to the reader, but even with those, the blogging experience is generally exciting.

I might go back to a classroom someday and oppress young students as originally planned, but for now, all the teaching I need to do—all over the world—can be done from my corner. With a click.