Before the start of this piece, before I wrote the first words, I couldn't decide which of the two to blame, so I gave each of them equal spaces in the header hoping that as I go on, the winner will emerge... or maybe as you read this you'd pick a side; and whichever side you pick would win.
You see, I have all these many thoughts in my head, like little birds trapped inside the cage that is my cranium. "Let us out!" They yell, "Let us out!" They scream at me every night for freedom. How do you expect me to answer them? Through the only way I know how of course,; through putting them down in words, giving corpreality to the entities that only I can see and hear; giving them expression in physical bodies of ink on paper or symbols on a keyboard and storing them in memory like a warrior's atiliery or a fighters sheathed sword ( --i heard a pen is mightier than it. Who knew?).
And this is all fine and good. It's just that, 9 times out of 10, each of these 9 times as I pick up my pen or the board of keys that have the potential to unlock my thoughts, I never really release anything. Don't twist this: the thoughts are there, but there's no word being mformed. Nothing is coming in translaton. Nothing is making my hands move. It's like on their way, the birds hit a big wall ... (Cue in the writers block).
Othertimes it's that the pristine moment of inspiration kicks in, I but I'm too tired ( read: lazy. Please read: lazy) to take advantage of the moment I lose the stream of words threatening to burst out like vomit in the throat of a fever laden child. As an effect, this has begun to affect how I consume the thoughts that others have freed through words. (A huge success on their part..they should really write more on how they write more but I don't know if I'll ever let myself read it.)
I'm my defense, I have a very busy day. See, I live in Lagos, Nigeria. In this place, experience spreads her legs to birth what is known as "Lagos Traffic" (Google it and don't stress me even further), after being simultaneously raped by the thugs of bad roads and over population. It is estimated that each day, over 50 new people migrate in the state, (the smallest bloody state in the whole frigging country).
To this is say: Forget your office . Lagos Traffic is the real full time job. Your salary is not really based on what you do at work, it's based on how good you are at beating--or surviving the many heads of this vicious hydra-like monster. How early or late you leave your home--whibh never matters to anyone as long as you get to your desk on time--and how early late you return . Most importantly; how successful you were preventing your sudden death in the from of crossing roads and jumping busses or not getting crushed by a careless tanker with a "high" driver whether you're on foot or in your private car, and if you're alive the next day to do it all over again; returning to the job that may be dulling your creativity and leading your IQ units to their own holocaust.
Imagine coming out of such an experince 5 days a week (6-7 if you really like to go outside), you think you'd have inspiration to write anything? I (forget the fact that ranting about gave me my previous paragraph) No? Well, I didn't think so. Yet, the facts still remains that the birds in my head still need to get out and they never accept the pleas of my tired hands or my aching body or even the need to sleep.( they attack me in my sleep by the way. Haughty creatures!!).
However, this is not the point. The point is I use this as an excuse to not write even when I'm at rest, claiming that I need more stress to compensate for future stress. I don't even know how that advise works, but it does. This is why "Stress" is not in the header; because no matter how stressed I am, I still find time to check my email, or reply my mad WhatsApp group ( no seriously, the people I'm in a WhatsApp group with are insane "Yabaleft" dropouts) or check who retweeted my tweets. I do not write because I am stressed? No! I do not write because I allow the stress to make me lazy.
I've been writing this for over an hour and I still don't know which wins. You'd think it's one, but the other quickly rises up and becomes equally annoying. Since I can't decide between the two, they will both equally face my wrath. I willatgavl the with the sword and shield of discipline and consistency.
This is why I'm writing this: to break free of their chains, to turn and face them,to begin the battle.
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