Monday, March 31, 2014

it's not about race...?

Father said I'll do well in New York.

'You'll contend with the best of them and soar high with this mind of yours...
But you may only go so far
until you reach glass ceilings.

When they shut the door in your face the second time, don't waste a moment, just come back home T.N....

Just come back home....'

Father's words echoed in my ears all through today as I started lifeless into my work station...

Your technical skills are undoubtedly remarkable, but we think Gareth is a more suitable fit....

Would somebody please remind me what I am doing in this place?

Race is not the issue...that's what I've always said to myself every morning, until today....

Today I conceded to defeated thoughts about returning home.

Sunday, March 30, 2014

#Catching Feelings...and The 14 for 14 Challenge: The T.Notes' Blog Sniffer alerts - (JdB's Zone)

March Review:

I have recently stumbled on JdB's blog, (which is my march review for the 14-for-14 challenge), and his blog fondly got me reminiscing about that 80's t.v show #Wonder yearsJdB's blog is a form of diarised reflections about his own #wonder years of growing up and navigating the often confusing terrains of youth. His train of thoughts easily depict the typical Nigerian youth, so it's easy to recognize his experiences and follow through without getting lost. I like that his blog does not assume to be your Dalai Lama guide to eternal fulfilment, but instead prompts you to recall and draw useful insight from your own forgotten experiences such as cringy teenage crushes or about....
Catching Feelings...#CF.

I never liked that phrase 'Catching Feelings'. Maybe because the imagery that quickly comes to mind is...a self obsessed girl of reasonable allurement...delivering a corky warning to some hapless young man who has grown comfortable with his interractions with her. She would be smacking chewing gum noisily, with a small grin teasing the side of her lips and squeal...
"Don't tell me you're catching feelings for me?!"

#In situations like this, I always feel deeply sorry for the person on the receiving end of that coffin-nailing statement. Because the state of #CF is a torturous place to be in. Wild emotions that gun straight for your soul and puts down anchor to the most vulnerable artery of your already sensitive heart. Making you become a self-professed poet of sorts, talking deep gibberish about how her presence carries eternal rays of sunshine that makes your heart dance...and the most troubling part being that, you truly mean every single word.

#CF is like a beautifully wretched sickness with no easy cure, except to allow the virus run its due course through your system; ravage every shred of common sense within you and reduce you to a worm of a person. Do you remember...dissecting every interaction with that person, and sifting through every conversation in an unending desperate search for reciprocated affection. And the build-up to that eventful moment when you finally build up the courage to have that weighty "conversation". When subservient and senseless, you hand over the last bit of your self esteem, and confess to someone that....

#I'm going crazy crazy, just thinking about you babay...(cue some throwback K-Ci & JoJo).
 And how her response changed everything....

Thanks to JdB's blog, i cringed today with a chuckle as i vividly recalled being in this situation and can properly conclude that when you truly catch feelings, you are done for...a proper #Gobe situation indeed.

P.S: If you find yourself  drowing in #CF, a useful tip is found in...Counting ten blue-eyed Bambi(s) before indulging any sort of emotional response.

So, You should check out JdB's blog and drop a friendly comment for the following reasons:

1. The fact that one of his random posts inspired this quickie: #Catching Feelings.
2. The fact that i can count on one hand the number of guy-blogs herein on blogger and somedays it's like walking around a lingerie departmental store in here.

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 fourth post into that journey.

Sunday, March 23, 2014

...about falling in love, fancy models, and all that 'ish.

I have a 2am idea...

I was up late last night building an amazing Pricing model - a very impressive work of art, if I dare say so.
Somewhere in the middle of all that headache,  I had an idea about falling in love.
Don't ask me about the correlation between love and financial markets,
Because I bet you I can build you a model on that too.

Anyways, in summary, a pricing model is a fancy algorithm that predicts prices in the financial markets.
The main building block of a model are what we call 'factors'.
So,  you throw in a bunch of hopefully 'relevant factors', fit a statistical curve and if you've done your maths right, your model should be a fairly accurate tool for predicting the future.
Now you can go into the world and make some money.

I think falling in love is a lot like building a pricing model.
And I think the best time to build your model is when you are young,  naive and fairly inexperienced.
Here's my simple reason why:
Too many factors in your model spoil its accuracy.

When I was young, my formular for love was simple - emotional connection,  faith, and fair looks.
Those were the simple building blocks on which I predicted the future of my relationship.
And thinking about it today,  it was more than enough.
The older and wiser we get, the more complicated the whole thing becomes.
Until you are staying up till stupid hours, with a confusion induced headache,  wondering about choices and randomly testing three thousand and forty odd factors in a gambling space of mathematical probabilities.

Here's what it looks like:

She is so witty, i could listen to her talk all night whilst i get lost staring into those baby blues...
Sounds like a good factor, so you frantically hurry back to your model and...#Fit, Test, Fail!
Gosh I love his self confidence,  the way his voice commands attention and his charm, ooh, his charm..
That should be a good factor too...Quick, quick, #Fit, Test, Fail!
You get my drift...

I think many people are like me in that lone office space at 2am,
Staring with eccentric hope at an inanimate computer screen
With a bunch of daft factors scattered about our lives
Making the same frantic mistake over and over again
Fit, test, fail, Fit, test, fail...arghhhh, somebody just make it work!

So, three billion people on the face of your planet, multiply that by a sample space of forty odd factors per person.
Your assignment - choose and fit your best 'factors' and pick one person!
Even for the best model builders, it's a fool's errand nightmare!
And I doubt God intended the whole process to be that complicated.

Hence, as i wrapped up my own modelling exercise, I concluded that, in effect the formular is simple:
#Less is more, and that's just ok.

So here's my uncomplicated conclusion:
Choose your best and three easiest factors.
E.g, emotional connection,  faith, and fair looks.
Fit your curve, allow yourself fall in love, leave the rest to fate and #get out of the office!

It is afterall, a game of chance, good fortune and mathematical probabilities.

Some toast to #GettingItRight.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Ten blue-eyed Bambi(s)

I met Bambi whilst watching waterfalls on the Coasts of Amalfi.
A spunky teenage tour guide who reminded me a lot of myself.

He wondered about my adult fascination with crashing waters,
So I told him how they remind me of my emotions,
Wild and often times without control.

Bambi found us a vantage spot under a thousand meters of cascading waters.
His only reply to my rant was a short hum of that old TLC song - Waterfalls.

The one admonishing fools who waste precious lives chasing reckless passions.
I understood the pun but proceeded to enlighten his naivety.

I told him how life had endowed some of us with excessive portions of human emotions.
Love and Lust, Joys and Laughter, Passion and Infatuation.

We would love to heights of Kilimanjaro,
then spiral to the depths of meaningless depression in the same single breathe.
Riding every wave of emotional high like a fool - none the wiser even after every let down.

Bambi misunderstood all of the symbolism in my tirade, 
Diverting instead to tell about how he'd once fallen in love with a local girl.

A wild beauty who caused his heart to flutter every time she walked by.
He said he'd found his feelings to be like a reckless woman.
The ones who whisper wretched desires but only delivered fleeting nothingness.

Heartbroken and defiant, Bambi claimed he now mastered the fine art of  emotional control being able to entirely divert his emotions at will.

I found a beautiful contradiction in Amalfi as we watched in silence.
I wondered about taming what ought to be natural and unconstrained
Just like majestic waterfalls.

I imagined about finding a miracle tap-screw somewhere within the jagged crevices of my mind.
One that could turn off my feelings -
To control its chaos whenever it proved a nuisance to my own wellbeing.

Some days I loathe the often chaotic mess of my emotional state of mind,
So I asked Bambi to share his mind games.

He had a boyish twinkle in his eyes,
As he told me to simply –
Never indulge any sort of emotional response until I had first counted:
Ten blue-eyed Bambi(s).

It is really that simple, he promised.
And if all else fails,
Just hum along to that old TLC song.

This is a T.Note