Happy New Year, beautiful people!
I’m really beginning to understand the lack of enthusiasm that a lot of adults seem to have when it comes to entering a new year. I transitioned into 2015 in the comfort of my living room, sipping on mimosas with my pops (my mum can’t stand alcohol and my brother is, well, underage). I would rather stay in my house than be surrounded by a bunch of people I probably don’t like, experiencing small bouts of social anxiety. Call me an old soul, I’ll take it.
Anyway, we are officially in 2015, fully grounded into it. Nothing like hopping on to a packed train at 9 a.m. to get you back into the swing of things. My anguish with public transport continues. I’ve been having a tonne of dreams lately though and I’ve been driving pretty well in all of them. Is this a sign?!
New year resolutions and myself are not a thing. We do not agree. I make a habit to not make them as I never keep them. You shouldn’t have to wait for a whole new Earth orbit to begin before you decide to sort yourself out, should you?
I hope some of you have noticed the new layout. Changing it got me thinking about what this blog is actually about. I did some contemplating and I put it down to ethnicity. Read on, it makes sense.
I’ve noticed there are around 3 types of Nigerians that I have been exposed to so far:
1. Nigerians who are only Nigerian because their parents are. Anyway, their blogs/social media outlets are just something else. Totally incomprehensible.
2. Nigerians who are cultured, educated, worldly, aware, who claim their Nigerianness and are not ashamed of it, whilst maintaining a degree of sensibility. Some may have blogs. Some may just sprout a lot of philosophical stuff on twitter. I call them the bourgeoisie Nigerians.
3. Lastly, we have the Nigerians who are Nigerian, proud and LOUD. These are the ones who have YouTube that teach you how to tie gele (pronounced ge-ley) one minute then tell you how to appease your husband in the next. Very versatile.
The bourgeoisie Nigerians are cool, I think. Their blogs are all deep and moody and intellectually challenging (ish) and I was wondering if I was preaching the wrong kind of gospel on my own blog. I considered switching my posts from writing about chesticles to intense poetry reflecting the importance of the female body; from writing about wanting a boy friend to shoving the fact that I am a strong independent woman who doesn’t need male counterparts down your throats.
Don’t worry, I am so not doing that. I promised to be real and I feel the need to talk about all kinds of things all the time. I’m not going to attempt to stick to the status quo (High School Musical was released 9 years ago. NINE.) I’m just going to sprinkle my confetti of quirky sass on all of you, hope you like it.
Back to business. We (yes, you and I) need to address some things.
Guys, I’m upset with most of you. Every week, I post a song of the week and I know how many of you actually listen to them. This not only implies that you guys think my taste in music is shit but it also says you guys think my taste in music is SHIT.
So, let’s take a poll.
The results will be discussed thoroughly next week. You’re all in trouble.
Next on the list, my lovely blessing of a friend gave me an inspiration pot for Christmas.
As you can see, it is filled with quotes, heart-shatteringly necessary quotes. So, they will become the quote of the week, I’ll take a picture instead.
My mini rants will still exist, maybe not consistently. I’m still pissed off about something almost all the time so they will definitely still be around.
Oh, guys. Quick question. Let’s have another poll because these are fun. I’ll probably talk about it next week.
And, one more thing. I appreciate every single one of you who read this and continue to read this, who give me feedback and make me feel all mushy inside from your lovely words. But, guys, I want this blog to grow and I need your help. Please share this blog. Let other people be aware of my weekly gumdrops of fabulousity. Follow on me twitter and retweet stuff. Share posts that you find utterly thought-provoking. Tell your mums, dads, grandparents. Actually, no don’t do that. Do NOT tell your parents. I beg you. Please and thank you!
Until next week, mes amis,