Musings of a NEW 24 year old

Disclaimer: This does not apply to all 24 year olds and older, I mean, I’ve only been 24 for a few hours *shrug* Some sorta twisted note to self? Yeah, somewhat. 


  1. It’s your last year in the 18-24 demography, from next year, you’re going to start ticking the second line on all those many forms you’d be filling. How’s about making this year count?
  2. If you aren’t living your dreams by now, please what are you doing? No no no, Baz Luhrman’s Sunscreen message saying “Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life, the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t” does not apply. It simply DOES NOT! Solomon became king as a little child, ya too old auntee!
  3. WAKE UP! You see how you still think relationships are like tinko tinko, when you’re already going for all your friends’ omugwo… you had better start ensuring all your dates are close in proximity to Ikoyi registry. Silent reminders are hugely effective.
  4. I know, I know, you think disheveled hair is sexy. I’ll just break it to you – it’s not. It’s untidy. And why do you have to keep it tidy? The girls out there are not smiling, see point 3 again. 😀
  5. You see all those work outs you’ve only been having in your head and your timetable, you gattta start them now! Metabolism weel soon start slowing down and fat seeping in. Yes, ya now older!
  6. From now on, when anyone randomly asks your hobbies, you should say – with gusto –  “Cooking! Oh I love cooking!”. Grown women cook everything without breaking a sweat. Kinda. (When the kitchen is well ventilated)
  7. Be all sorts of sweet to yourself. All sorts. You want a getaway trip; save up for it and go! You want a fancy dinner at some top notch restaurant; grab your girlfriends (that’s what they’re there for!) or your boyfriend (Stay in the ladies till the cheque is paid), and go! You simply owe yourself your happiness, so never hold back on all the little things that stir it in.
  8. Family isn’t just everything, they’ll always be everything. Treat them that way.
  9. STOP STOP STOP cutting back on your me-time to do the most unimportant stuff. It annoys all of us in here. Solitude is bliss – E.V.E.R.Y.T.I.M.E. – signed, The Introvert.
  10. Outside cooking, find a real hobby or hobbies. However weird it is, it’s yours. No one can take it away. See, every girl has four primary needs –  God, an active hobby, a sound mind and friends with sound minds. These needs give you a life, basically. One worth living.
  11. Always get yourself a smashing birthday gift, every year. It’s a necessary. Makes keeping track of the years fun. I think.
  12. There are NO fairytales. There are pictures you paint, that may be fairytaly and you have to work towards with grit and faith. That’s the most you get where fairytales are concerned.
  13. Keep your words short and as bonds. If you won’t do it, don’t say it. As you get older, your words do too, and how you handle them is what you’d soon be known for.
  14. Never EVER lose your soul to this world in a quest to gain vanity.
  15. Pray everytime. When you’re pooping, eating, running, sleeping… EVERYTIME! Prayer is what your life hangs unto. Don’t ever forget that.
  16. No one is perfect, embrace the journey as we all try to figure it out.
  17. Don’t settle for a life less than the faintest picture your ever painted. Even the ones where you are at a Karaoke bar performing some crazy hit single and there’s a standing ovation when you’re done – don’t settle for singing to your self in the shower. -_-
  18. You should spend more time doing the chicken dance than sitting quietly in the corner. Wacky is you. You’d always be that way. Don’t let no one – and no age – take it away from you.
  19. Be grateful  and stay happy, it’s the secret to being forever young .
  20. We are 24!


Dear Daughter,

Dear daughter


I bought my first compact brown powder over the weekend, along with a good shade of foundation and a powder brush. As I worked my way through putting my face together on Sunday morning, I laughed at myself for a bit. See, I remember the years of agony my mother faced with having two kids who are nothing like her where making up is concerned. I thought about how she tried everything to get us to be “make-up wearers” early enough and how she constantly rolled her eyes when she saw us ready to go out with bushy eyebrows, roughly put talcum powder and lip balm. I remembered her say at some point that we’d grow up suddenly and realize making up wasn’t such a bad thing, and I smiled at how right she was.

There’s something so decidedly feminine and adult about the whole process of getting ready and it made me think of you – even though you aren’t here yet – and my mom. I hope you meet her, and I hope she teaches you all the tricks with making up with her huge make up box that I hope you inherit. And then, I hoped that you too would one day celebrate how I was right about something you were stubborn about :)

I settled into wondering what you would be like, and I hoped against hope that you wouldn’t inherit some of my characteristics. I hope you aren’t stubborn about your ideals and you are flexible enough to embrace change, unlike me and that you do not want to live a fantasy or build sand castles in the sky and hold on to its possibility with dogmatism. I hope you do not have my almost horrible ability to over-analyze and dissect any situation even when I know it’s only gonna cause me grief. I hope you do not dance around pessimism and negative what ifs like I tend to but hold on to optimism like your life depends on it, ’cause it does. I hope your nails are not short and stubby like mine, and they are as far away from your mouth, as the east is from the west. I hope you do not become overly independent or dependent. I hope you are never timid, and you can stand in front of every crowd to say everything that pops in your mind, intelligently. I hope you don’t shut yourself from the world when you feel bad, because people were made to both lift you up and bring you down; you need them, no matter the state of your mind. And I hope you don’t cry so easily or so often.

I hope you love food – the cooking as well as the eating -and you have a good eating habit.  I hope you make good friends that would stand the test of time and are of good character, and I hope you keep them. I hope you know and love your body, never to lazy to keep it in shape and never shy of its weird complexities. I hope you are creatively inclined and that country music gives you peace and rock songs make you happy :) . I hope it brings you joy to do crazy uncoordinated dances, like me. I hope you find your purpose early and work you way towards it with fierce determination. And I hope you’re a happy child, giving the joy to the world, one smile at a time.

I hope you have a good sense of self and hold on to becoming you. I hope you’re opinionated, actually, you have to be, it’s too strong in my family. But I mostly hope you know how to put a good balance, knowing where your opinions should rather be held on to, than said out loud. I hope your days are filled with confidence, knowing you can do anything with God and determination. I hope you’re more selfless than I try to be, knowing that people always come before things. And you’re smart and thoughtful and generous, not only because it’s sexy, but because it’s everything.

I hope you’re friends with my father, and that you spend your early years sitting at his feet, listening to words of wisdom and I hope his arms are still strong enough to lift you up like he lifted me up when I little. I hope every scar you get from the world moulds you into a woman of wisdom and character who understands better because she has learnt. And I hope it never ever gets you down. I hope you learn to love early and then find love. And I hope when you find “the one”, you treat him like he is the one.

I hope you’re more of a lady than I am, wearing skirts, heeled shoes and red lipstick. I hope your hair is always in place, ’cause I’m not sure I’d be able to help with that pretty well – my natural hair always needs to be set free in loose tangles on sunny afternoons :) . I hope you’re strong and zealous and enthusiastic about life. I really hope you decide early on to live a life geared towards inspiring and helping others, living a story worth telling. I hope you work out your own salvation, love Jesus a heck ova lot and have a steady relationship, it’ll make all the difference in your life. I hope you set your path straight before you and walk in that direction daily, never losing sight of the big picture whilst still giving time to appreciate the beauties of life all around you.

Dear Daughter, above all, I hope I can be all things and more for and to you. A good example, a role model, a friend, a sister, a goofy partner, an available ear to your rants and a prayer partner. I’d love to share my shoes with you – hurry, have big feet!, and have you steal my clothes. I’d be excited to be chauffeur more often than not and your teacher every single day! I want to be the pillow you cry on when you get your heart broken – you most likely will – and I’d be glad to eat all the comfort food and get fat with you on the road to healing.  And while I’m waiting to start this relationship with you, I’d spend these days of my youth becoming someone worthy to be looked up to as a mother.

Lots of love,

Pardon my randomness

If you saw my last post, you’d catch my drift. So this isn’t turning out like I expected and I’m not finding it funny. 😐

Challenge 1: Consider what you want to accomplish with your blog. Write down three concrete goals you want to achieve.

I have nothing to write. No goals. Nothing I want to accomplish here that is SMART (you know, the whole specific, measurable  …. thingy). You see, all I really want to do is write. About me. The world I live in. The people around me. What I make on them all. And most importantly, find inner peace.

I’m constantly at war with myself. Living right or not. Living in the moment or not. Forging ahead or falling by the way side… It’s endless.

It’d be nice to  write:


  • Gain 20% more followers by October 15th and increase my average daily hits 30% by December 31st.
  • Publish three times each week during April, May, and June.
  • Establish a new weekly feature on my blog by April 30th (Throwback Thursdays, Wordless Wednesdays, Soup Sundays), and publish that feature each week through June 30th.

I want none of those.

Writing – even when it’s a dead end and makes no sense – is like music to my soul. It just kinda liberates me and that’s what all of this is about. It’s writing ’cause I feel like it. ‘Cause it makes me hold on to something in the depth of my sadness – or happiness. ‘Cause it sometimes reaches out to someone else. ‘Cause it bares my soul…

So my goals – random as they may seem:

  • Learn to breathe – through and through. {This MIGHT mean refraining from posting mishaps I encountered to posting happy activities and steps I’m taking to attain halcyon: adventures, relationships, who knows :) }
  • Establish a new feature on my blog. {Talking about me all the time could get narcissistic? }
  • Spend time visiting  blogs I love, reading their stuff and commenting on their work – Spice is life.

Phew! That’s it.

Once more, pardon my randomness.

A series of unfortunate events


It’s was the period after break. I was in SS2. Someone hit the table in the rhythm every QC girl knows, to usher the teacher in.
“Good AAAAAfternoon ma!” we all chanted. To which she replied “Bring out your new practical English textbook and open to chapter  ‘x’”.

I do not remember the chapter now.

“Let somebody read to us”

Odunola began.

“May your roads be rough…..”

There was a pandemonium as we all shouted “God forbid!”


April 2014

Thirty minutes ago

I walked with steady strides oblivious of the happenings around me, clutching my nylon to my chest like my life depended on it. Horns blaring, bikes swerving, people cursing. It was too short a distance from the bus stop  to my house to have all this fiasco, I thought. But I didn’t care much. I had been numbed. Momentarily. Till I found a safe place to break – My dad’s room.

Last week

I had realized that my seat of dissatisfaction lay in my lack of activity. I made a list of interests and promised I’d pursue them, one after another. It was photography this month. I bought a camera.

One hour ago

I boarded my last bus home. I was on the seat next to the open door where the conductor hung – in the typical Lagos way. I had my handbag, a nylon containing my newly acquired camera and an umbrella, all on my lap. The conductor, with his armpit over my head, asks for my fare. I reach into my bag to get my wallet out to pay, and somewhere in-between avoiding his under arm and getting the money out; the driver swerves and his sharp turn sent my nylon flying in the opposite direction, outside the bus. It was seemingly a short moment between when it fell out and when I got the conductor to run back to get it, but in that little moment, tires had run over it. Tires had crushed my camera.

20140410_230126 (1)

Twenty minutes ago

I rushed into my dad’s room and I broke down. They weren’t tears streaming down silently, they were deep racking unending sobs from a soul that’s known to much grief in the last seven weeks. It just went on and on, and my dad – amongst other things – said: “It’s life, things always happen, you have to learn to bear it” (How does anyone even learn that ?!)


I’m learning that my roads might have to be rough.
I’m also learning that halcyon and breathing might be a long way off.

“Man is disturbed not by things, but by the views he takes of them”- Epictetus