And there you go, it's a wrap! The very last of 14 posts maintained all through the year. Surprisingly not an easy task! Left to my own laziness these days, I'd be lucky to have three posts in total throughout the year.
I must say i did enjoy the theme of finding new blogs, rediscovering old favourites, and had quite a few charmed conversations along the way. For me, that's the beauty of a writing community - finding shared interests and common ground, with a little less effort than in real life.
So if you asked me what I've learnt from this effort of reviewing blogs, I'd summarise it into this- you'll find what you're looking for on blogsville, and hey why not?!
So this last post is a dedicated "Thank you" to the incredible Janyl.B for putting me through this disciplined torture of creating 14 themed posts in 2014 and at the same time easily resuscitating this page14 times at the least throughout the year!
The curse of the creative mind is in failing to realize, that real life is entirely dissimilar to the talents we flaunt over blank canvases and writing pads.
That the heavens have not given to us the same liberties to recreate realities that we fancy at the ingenious stroke of our impulsive pen.
So we would oft contend with deep disatisfactions, as the world refuses to submit to our own story lines.
Blustering back and forth erratic emotions of the real scripts of life's unapologetic realities.
And real people that are just people without the expected edges and artistic depths that you would have penned into this tale, this day.
I mean who imagines this setting, and characters that could be so much more classier, and perfect, if she'd given those responses with a certain flair and turned her nose up just a tard inch higher.
That was not the way the story was supposed to end, no it was not.
So you trash yet another script failing to realize that that was another real person and a real situation and real emotions and real lives beneath penny worth of hapless conversations....
But you didn't write the story, if only you'd written the story. It would have been so much more perfect in my own words.
I am not a morning person. I'm a 5pm Friday person :)
This is me when i wake up on a weekday.
My typical morning routine is to wake at 7.30, snooze till 8, and literally
drag my ditzy self to the expresso machine. Then I sit by a high chair looking
out the window and slowly induce myself awake with idle daydreams about receiving
a random offer to head-up GeeTee Bank
in Lagos. All- inclusive with a castle in lekki, a bad a$$ 4x4, and all the
perky teller girls lighting up the mornings with sunny-side up smiles. But that
is not my reality (at least not just yet), so instead i would dutifully don on five
layers of protective clothing, brace myself for the smattering cold and lob along into another day at the office. *Joy*.
All that notwithstanding, this is usually me when I step into the office.
Somewhere in between that two minutes elevator *shoki*, which I totally recommend, a
transformation usually occurs wherein I become incredibly awesome. I would step
into that office space, own the environment and then it’s all about the Joey
Tribbiana “how u doing”, enthusiastic winks and cheerful hi-5’s whilst i grab a
fat cup of coffee and settle down for work
You see, it’s been all about that magic two minute attitude transformation
in between the elevator and the doorway. But the problem is that these days, I seem
to have run out of fairy dust. I would dance myself into a quick frenzy, rocking
that elevator shoki, azonto, etighi the
whole works, and nothing happens! Instead, I enter the office and find that I’m
just another black immigrant, hustling for the dollar. Does anybody else get those
days, or is it just me?
So all through the week, i have entertained my office with
the un-graceful dramatisation of a disgruntled, discontent Nigerian man. I know
and I'm not proud of it, but i just couldn't be asked. All that need to be constantly chirpy and cheerful,
is draining, so I simply let the frown linger. The tipping point was when I
raised my voice and told this certain self-nominated office class-captain to
get the &*# away from the desk, and everyone went quiet. I know. It's been
bad. I need to get my act back together. Talk about grumpy old men.
But sticking to the positives and about breathes of fresh
air, I recently discovered Tuke’s-Quest’s, which is my quick blog review for
this month. Tuke is a saxophonist and a writer, and her blog is ooh yessss very
easy to conclude that, if she only posted pictures of zany smiles without any worded
expressions, that would be enough to make it an amazing blog page. So I’ll be
calling this one, the Happy place. Check out her blog here and thank me later. Tuke’s
blog reminds me of Kiah, before she left…and
that line from Cab rides and the Morning after, about still beautiful people who are all elsewhere doing impossibly beautiful
things.
And this is what I’ve come to appreciate from doing these new-blog
reviews. The fact that blogsville never really did die. Instead, after the sexy ones had become middle aged,
in their 12hour life spans*, the magic rightly rolled along into the hands
of a fresh generation of amazing people who are telling their own stories in
their own way. And it only takes a few seconds to either blink and miss it, or
jump right in like...
***************************************************************** Intro: The 14-for-14 challange by Janyl. (Click here to familiarize yourelf with the '14 for 14 challenge').
This is my tenth post into that journey.
Images:
http://imgarcade.com/1/grumpy-morning-people/
*Ref: Cab rides and the morning after - Alysia Harris.
Monday 7:30am, my good friend Funmi sauntered into the office, flopped into her desk space, and flashed a gobsmackingly huge, shimmering rock in my face - with a toothy grin that declared: ‘Mission accomplished!’ And I concluded with earnest awe, never to doubt a black woman on a mission.
Three months ago, just before heading home, and after slaving her twenty-ninth birthday away amidst frustrating spreadsheets and financial reports, Funmi had calmly said to me. ‘T.Notes, I’m ready for an upgrade’. She dragged my chair into her own work area and within ten minutes, drafted out an insane life-planner with the end product of acquiring a boyfriend within one month, getting engaged within three months, and getting married before the end of this year. "Ambitious much?" That was my sarcastic response.
Now, my friend Funmi is an incredible person. She is super smart and an amazing office-space buddy - a pure breath of fresh air. She is also a nerd - which is why we get along so well. Funmi’s head holds daily updates of interest rates across trading hubs in five major cities - that is how bad-ass Funmi is. But I will be honest, that’s all I saw in Funmi - my super-reliable desk mate with the brains of a financial encyclopaedia. So, as far as I was concerned, unless all of the hosts of heaven had some curious interest in the need for Funmi to get hitched within three months, her ambitious life planner had no chance. So i only indulged her that day out of friendly courtesy and finished with a cheerful but very casual amen to her tall ambitions.
In fact, I remember going home that night with a brief thought of how annoying the odds must be for someone like Funmi. She deserved the best, but would have to do battle against the odds in a world that has become a crazed man-hunt with contenders that were clearly above her league. I have female friends and family who are typically everything a sensible man would want in a woman, but for whatever reason none was biting bait. As i thought of Funmi's plan, i considered also the social media twerkers and the red nose’rs doing critical damage to the righteous expectations of a good man. In conclusion, I wished Funmi well, with a lot of scepticism.
But I started to doubt my own cynicism when Funmi showed up to work the next day and her manager spilled coffee all over his desk. It was like Funmi had crawled away into her financial spreadsheets and had somehow morphed into this…this…somebody that caused religious indian bosses to completely loose their composure. Funmi had ditched the usual flat soles for six-inch high-heeled, patent-black striking boots that demanded attention with every step she took. It appeared that something must have also gone wrong (or very right), with her dry-cleaning, because somehow her usual conservative skirts had shrunk to such lengths that reminded me of my grandmother’s fervent declarations of Psalms 24 - lift up your heads on ye gates, oh be lifted up ye ancient doors!
Hold on sef! For emphasis, let’s do that properly like how mama used to do it in Yoruba "E gbe ori yin soke, eyin enu-ona. Ki a si gbe yin soke eyin ileku aye-raye." Come on!!! You may pause for google translate but you get the point. And so whilst Funmi's manager had been reduced to fumbling mess that morning, trying to unglue his eyes from Funmi’s very distracting and revealing thighs, I maintained a more distinguished focus on Funmi’s hair which was now glossy and bouncy like some Coco-sheen commercial. And her low neckline shoulder-stringed camisole with transparent detail…no one should even be dressed like that in a professional environment. In summary, Funmi was not messing around.
Funmi is a case study, because I entirely agreed that her transformation had caused her intended ripple, or tidal wave to be precise. Her work space suddenly got very busy. By midday, her outlook calendar was booked full with raunchy old men suddenly needing to have one-to-one meetings with her. It was all very unbelievable. This was afterall, Funmi - nerdy encyclopaedia Funmi! So l stepped in to do the rightful big-brotherly job of pointing out to her that she was going about things the wrong way! *All wrong, wrong, wrong*! I gathered all my wisdom together and gave her a sharp lecture about how the sorts of men taking this sudden interest in her were clearly only interested in her…external motivations. *All wrong, wrong, wrong, I said to her*! Because there was certainly a whole lot more to Funmi than an easy pair of distracting cleavage. I told her she was selling herself short! She listened to me quietly, then calmly told me to shut up, mind my business and face my Quants.
To sum things up, this is how the things went down. I soon stopped asking if Funmi was free for our usual lunch hangouts at the local jazz hole. On Mondays, Funmi was meeting up with some random James, Kunle or Otis. On Tuesdays, her whatsapp was already buzzing by 11am; on Wednesdays, she was receiving confirmations for weekend dinner dates. Random strangers were now chatting her up in the canteen and on the trains, and exchanging phone numbers. Such was the transformation. And all of this happened within a couple of weeks. The transformation was otherworldly but the #husbandhustle was real, and I almost started to detest this very intentional stranger.
But they say the end justifies the means yeah? And that’s how Funmi has always been. She’s a go-getter, a strategist, an unyielding hothead. Funmi is the kind of analyst who presents a single view recommendation, unlike the rest of us mortals who provide options 1,2,3 and 4 and try to convince the world that either option 1...or...2 may be the best option. But not Funmi. Funmi does her research, aligns her steps towards her intentions and gets the singular result she was after from the very beginning. #NoWastingTime. But that’s always been all good and dandy from the professional stand-point. You shouldn’t approach serious matters such as marriage like any other Funmi-firebrand project, right yeah?! Or, why not?
How did it all end? With her new found confidence, Funmi told me on a random Friday that she had booked a short weekend holiday to Lagos. I asked what the urgency was about and she casually laughed about how she was going to seal a deal and pick up a husband. And she did. She f&%ing did.
I never got the full details. All i know is, Funmi returned to work on the monday, sauntered into the office, flopped into her desk space, and flashed a gobsmacking shimmering rock in my face, with a toothy grin that declared: ‘Mission accomplished!’ and with that massive engagement ring literally blinding me and my jaw in the floor, i watched my friend calmly refresh her life-planner spreadsheet and start re-working it into a wedding plan.
I do not underatand it. But nonetheless, I take back my previously ignorant words and bite my own tongue here to publicly acknowledge that people like Funmi, are beyond any doubt, simply legends. Yes, there i said it. Satisfied?
All that said, my blog review for
this month is the incredible Funmi Reese, whom you should zippy over to check
out her page, particularly if you might be interested in the full details of
how to snag an engagement ring in three months. Here is my subtle disclaimer. Given
that Funmi is quite a popular name, if you happen to know the one I have
referred to here, and she stylishly denies your questions, just wink three
times and tell her T.Notes sent you.
*P.S: This is a long post, so I have not done my edit due-diligence, so excuse any errors. I am not likely to be correcting them any time soon. Lol!*
***************************************************************** Intro: The 14-for-14 challange by Janyl. (Click here to familiarize yourelf with the '14 for 14 challenge').
I recently accepted this challenge to
go on a quest searching for brand new blogs...with the bull-headed
conviction that all creativty is not lost within the nigeria-blogsphere.
And also desperate to prove that, contrary to recently popular opinion,
not all of the new blog pages are uninteresting (to put it mildly). This is my ninth post into that journey.
I was having lunch today with two other Nigerian mates,
And conversations briefly veered into @sugarbelly's mildly controversial tweet.
The one about the minimum take-home she would consider from a man living and working in Nig, (in view of the costs of living in Nig).
So we decided a do a simple exercise.
We worked out the minimum monthly pay on that lunch table,
Whipped out a calculator, converted it to Naira and compared the result to the 'controversial' amount being tweeted about.
Somebody on the table coughed.
Another person asked me to pass the ketchup,
Then we moved on to talk about the weather.
He knew that this day would come. They had discussed it countless times, yet it seemed now that none of all that rehearsal prepared him for the pain that was searing through his heart. She had promised to find his eyes amongst the congregation and pitch a smile his way, just to let him know that she remembered his pain, and was feeling the same too. But her eyes were all lit up and focused only on the man who held her into a warm embrace…and kissed her...with such tenderness.
The congregation cheered as the priest announced the newly married couple. But he didn’t clap; instead he stretched out slightly, so she could catch his eyes, and smile at him. She didn’t. She didn't...and the palpitations in his heart seemed to drown out everything else, as the stark reality of the events unfolding finally struck hard. His hand found its way involuntarily to clutch at the dulling ache in his chest.
“Are you ok dear?” His own wife who stood next to him, enquired with concern.
He stifled the wretched lump in his throat, dropped his hand and lied, “Yes…yes love. I’m fine.”
*****
Edit:
HD's question: Why is he waiting for a smile?
Some days, i find it extremely difficult to believe any of it.
When you consider from a rational,
or moderately sensible point of view,
It fails to make much sense. (But then, what really is the alternative?)
This whole idea of Faith.
Sometimes all it appears to be is a weak crutch,
Cozy tales to make journies easier to bear. (Like a flickering light to appease the soul through darkness.)
Most days I'd stutter if i tried to explain it.
And the lame'est faithless would crush my feeble apologetic,
to the corner of a tiny defenseless whisper: (I don't know, I just believe it...somehow)
And whilst some days the best I can do is to keep trudging along,
Muttering my own faithless tired song,
Yet faithfully so, in my seeming faithlessness. (So Faithless still, there it remains perched, unyielding)
Like an unending glisten of Dew,
Like one certain unyielding nutter of a blogger,
Who talks about apples and crosses, (One fine crystal droplet at a time, unrelentless, faithful.)
Some days...
Swimming in winter audio: John Piper.
*****************************************************************
Intro: The 14-for-14 challange by Janyl. (Click here to familiarize yourelf with the '14 for 14 challenge'). I recently accepted this challenge to go on a quest searching for new blogs...with the bull-headed conviction that all creativty is not lost within the nig-blogsphere. And also desperate to prove that, contrary to recently popular opinion, not all of the new blog pages are uninteresting (to put it mildly). This is my ninth post into that journey.
I went out for a karaoke party with a bunch of unfamiliar friends, and everybody spoke with an accent.
Problem was...everybody in that room was Nigerian,
and the minimum age that any of these people had relocated was at the very least, fifteen.
So i watched, alternating between amusement, to bewilderment, to a tinge of irritation,
wondering why Nigerians were faking foreign accents to Nigerian friends,
As one over-dressed female would speak to her male partner - with a twang,
and the boyfriend/husband would reply her in like manner, also chewing on his tongue,
then her female friend would cackle in a fit of OMG's, before carrying on the banter.
I thought to myself, like seriously? Even the men have time for this iranu?!
So there i was wondering if this was a very unusual East London Nigerian community thing,
or if i had been completely out of the loop of social etiquettes amongst Nigerians living abroad?
Oh, i love the Nigerian gift of being able to swing accents as required,
and how easily we're able to fake it to blend in.
I think it's a charming skill...and i've had a few indian friends enviously agree.
I think it is of particular benefit in the office environment, or the multinational social settings.
But i'll never for the life of me understand what happened in that Karaoke bar that night.
Who anybody was trying to impress, If i had missed out on the memo to come and act stupid,
or if i just dreamt up the whole disgrace amongst grown-up folks.
I conluded that there are three types of Nigerians living abroad.
These Karaoke bar bunch, who don't have the common sense to leave the accents behind when meeting up with Nigerian mates,
The late bloomers who think that everywhere is Isale Eko - the types that give everybody a headache when they are taking a phone call on public transport,
And the sensible ones somewhere in between.
I think that...
There is something about a Nigerian girl's unapologetic accent and laughter that is just absolutely fantastic. One of the reasons i listen to Tosin Bucknor's radio show on a random thursday morning.
Photo credit: www.josenavarronyc.com
P.S: I agree, the word verification thing is annoying, so yes, i'll turn it off for a while and see how that works.
Don't waste your fxxking time on someone who don't deserve your fxxking time.
Life is really that simple. Infact, this is a noble saying, and it is worthy of full acceptance. Please go ahead and retweet.
It is of mild importance the back story of how this revelation besotted my mind...whilst lazy hands soothed an itchy butt-crack at 11pm on a simple evening.
What does it matter, about anthesis, rational judgment or basis of proof. Afterall it sounded briefly ethereal, hallowed and does it not validate your own angst too? So...yes please, go ahead and Facebook too.
So unto us a law of the universe is born. As before our very eyes, one hapless fool will receive a scarthy text messsge, as courstey is abandoned to the altar of my fine sounding revelation.
Life really is that simple. And thus is my generation of "social intelligence". You may go ahead and Instagram too.
I really really am trying to be less of a sarcastic hot-head but i promise, social media is really not helping my cause.
I think you should look out the window more often.
Find a good picture window that gives you an unrestricted view, and throw aside the blinds or curtains. The higher up your vantage point, the better. On a sunny saturday morning, or a gentle wednesday night...lean your elbows against the window sill, drop your chin into your cupped wrists and allow your mind fleeter away...just like #Lara.
I reckon the idea sounds natural for the typical starry-eyed wanderlusts. If otherwise, you might maybe ask, 'Now what'?
Indulge the stillness for a moment and wonder where you would rather be right now. A friend of mine spent his summer lounging away on the beaches of Mexico with an easy cocktail in hand. So i've been daydreaming lately of getting lost in a Mexican folk festival. Ah....with the local Mariachi band and their women dancing away in those vibrant escaramuza colors.
Photo Source: Wiki
The question now is, where would you rather be right now...even if just for a day or few?
Don't quickly discard the thought as idealistic or unrealistic, listing the twenty hurdles that easily seperate us from our window sill and that dreamy horizon. If you're anything like me, the older I get, the more real the hustle becomes. There are only a million and ten things that drive me crazy every single day but this post is not about entertaining those annoyances. I think that there are challenges for every living creatures - some more than others. And i think this is particurlarly so, if you happen to be bucketed into a certain category known as 'Nigerian'. But that is a different discussion altogether.
So, my soul begs for life outside of the usual struggle. To wake up in the morning somewhere different and walk a different route that isn't into nine-to-five traffic throng. To think, but not about the bills, deadlines, and the usual survival needs. To take a break from life, in order to live life. And I thoroughly appreciate that life cannot be a holiday every day. But sometimes, somedays, my soul begs me to just pack my bags and literally just go away. And i'm wondering if there aren't many like myself...
Walking away from that window sill and coming back to real life is the sensible question of:
'How and why should i want to indulge this idea of taking a frequent break from #life'?
Lara's blog is one of my favourite Nigerian travel enthusisat's blog, and it kind of point you in the right direcction in answering some of those questions. For the simple reason, that it doesn't portrat a glossy Thomas cook holiday brochure to entice your already groaning bank account. Instead, she keeps it simple and suggests you to almost, #Keep calm, be Nigerian and Travel.
Here are my own simple reasons for packing up my bags ever so often:
I think it's important not to get drowned in life's hustle.
I think it's healthy to take time out away from the noise and just #be.
Time-out gives me a fresh breath of direction.
Time-out helps me remember the few things that really matter.
Travelling enlightens me and gives the impression that i'm learned ;)
Time-out envigorates my spiritual life.
Travelling expands your network easily.
Here are also my own simple tips on how to make it happen:
I maintain a direct debit saving account for indulging my wanderlusts.
I used an airline credit card to rack up air-miles on everyday shopping (every little helps).
I frequently idle away on trip advisor to feed my lusts and get sensible traveller's tips.
When i can't afford an international travel, i take a local break.
I cut costs sometimes by lounging at a friend's place when I travel.
Don't travel alone. Build experiences with someone special.
Travel safe - it's a crazy world these days.
Have a good camera and maintain a physical travel photo album.
A video camera is also very useful to relive those experiences when i'm back home on a rainty tuesday evening.
I think that there is something beautific about letting your feet loose and getting lost amidst a throng of foreigners. Becoming a stranger and being fascinated all over again by the sounds of your own real dialect, and being known in a
brand new sort of way.
I've only tried to sum up experiences that Lara tells better all over her blog. So, all that said, my 14-for-14 for this month, is...naturally re-introducing you to Lara's blog over here.
If Lara's blog were a book, i'd title it as 'the girl who looked out of the window'.
Have a fantastic day all...and thanks for stopping by.
*I have not properly edited this, so excuse my errors*
***************************************************************** Intro: The 14-for-14 challange by Janyl. (Click here to familiarize yourelf with the '14 for 14 challenge').
I recently accepted this challenge to
go on a quest searching for brand new blogs...with the bull-headed
conviction that all creativty is not lost within the nigeria-blogsphere.
And also desperate to prove that, contrary to recently popular opinion,
not all of the new blog pages are uninteresting (to put it mildly). This is my eighth post into that journey.
Edelweiss, Edelweiss.... That
song randomly popped up on my playlist....and I've had it on reply all night.
Quoting a quick wiki to jig my fading 'sound of music memories'...
"The song was Captain von
Trapp's subliminal goodbye to his beloved homeland, using the flower as a
symbol of his loyalty to Austria."
In the same vein, I find that it captures that sad moment where the love for
'home' starts to slowly slip out of your affections as the saddening reality of
things finally dawns on you. Every morning you greet me Small and white clean and bright You look happy to meet me Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow Bloom and grow forever Edelweiss,Edelweiss Bless my homeland forever.
Indeed, bless my homeland
forever....
P.s....I've been rubbish with comments lately. Please bear with me.
Cee has graciously nominated me for the Liebster blog award, and YNC has demanded that i pick this up and divulge some potentially sensitive information about myself. Thanks guys.
I'll just go ahead and highlight my own blog as my blog review for this month's 14 for 14 challenge.
So here goes...
1.Real Name?
T.Notes
2.Who is T.Notes?
No different from every other blogger who has ignorantly decided to
strip naked and bare soul and private opinion on the public streets of the
world.wide.web. I write, not because i have figured anything out but
purely in a bid to make sense of my own existence and this fine puzzlement aka life.
3.What do you do? Outside of these pages, I'm the next big headed person earnestly pushing
through the 9-to-5 (more like9-to-9) drudgery in a desperate bid to own just one bite-size piece of the proverbial big apple. I work as something of a number cruncher in Finance.
4.What kind of music are you into? I'm all about the Jazz! Paris cafe, Bepop, Flamenco, Smooth vocals, Dave
Koz, Latin jazz. A perfect night for me is tapping away with a live Swing & Big Band in a Blues rock lounge - Bliss. I often start and end my
day with my Jazz radio app. It's 1:30am right now, and Connie Evingson & The Hot Club of Swedon are strumming some instrumental justice to 'If I had you'. Get in!!!
5.What's one of the scariest things you've ever done?
I have chronicled my journies herein of quitting a reasonably cozy job at home to chase
after discontentments in a different country. Admittedly, it's not a new
idea, this bold move among young people these days...but it's often not
said enough how scary the whole ordeal is. If you don't have a financial cushion to fall back on, and you go straight in with honest intentions to slug things out legitimately by yourself - with nothing else except whispy dreams on your sleeves and a prayer on your lips....it's a tough adventure. But yes, i would do it all over again.
6.What do you do for fun? I daydream of retiring at 40 with a cozy retirement fund in the bank and a
striving business that keeps passion alive and discontentment at bay. In the
interim, I love to travel and get lost among a throng of strangers, new cultures and the delightful music of indecipherable foreign languages...along the cobbled streets of venice or the sandy dirt
cliffs of Santorini....Air miles and Avios points are a man's best friend.
7.What was your life like growing up? Gosh I grew up as a frightfully
naughty brat. The thought of some of things i got up to are cringy.
Let's just say i grew up as a very happy and restless
child...and...let's leave it like that ;)
8.Do you like to plan things out in detail or spontaneous? You honestly don't want to see my spreadsheet of life. I'm a sucker for
details. I am extremely ambitious, constantly making and reviewing
goals. I have a timeline for everything and take great joy in buying a
new diary every December. But if I've learnt anything at all, it's how
all my best laid plans fall to pieces when I'm not hammering on heaven's
doors for help.
9.Who in your life has influenced you the most? How did they do it?
That would certainly be J. She keeps me in check, curbs my excesses and
is my all round voice of reason. How does she do it? I don't know......
10.What's your favorite joke? Haha, These Wowo Boyz have been cracking me up lately!
Here's one of my favourite ones for your viewing pleasure.
11.If you could try out any job for a day, what would you like to try? I think it'd be interesting to live inside GEJ's fedora hat for a day...and complete the experience with the impeccable Dame P. as my first lady. I think it would be...priceless to know the thoughts behind that characteristic 'thoughtful' presidential pose.
11.If someone asked you to give them a random piece of advice, what would you say?
Try God.
12.Describe your blog with a phrase. It's not that serious.
13.Conclusion
If you visit T.Note's blog here and i'm certain you'd also agree that at the end of the day, paraphrasing the timeless craft of Nothing Hill...
I'm also just a blog, standing in front of another blog....
Have a fantastic day all...and thanks for stopping by.
***************************************************************** Intro: The 14-for-14 challange by Janyl. (Click here to familiarize yourelf with the '14 for 14 challenge').
I recently accepted this challenge to
go on a quest searching for brand new blogs...with the bull-headed
conviction that all creativty is not lost within the nigeria-blogsphere.
And also desperate to prove that, contrary to recently popular opinion,
not all of the new blog pages are uninteresting (to put it mildly). This is my seventh post into that journey.
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