When Your SuperHero Bleeds

Warning: Personal blog entry

Before Wonder Woman grew out her hair and got so hot, I was a fan. I loved her outfit; her sweet heart bodice, her star-spangled boy shorts and red boots. She was the only female superhero back then, so I wasn't spoiled for choice. So fave she was.

I had a few not-so-fictional super heroes too.

My entire family were my heroes, my parents and siblings. My cousins, aunties and uncles, older friends, a dozen fave teachers, headmistress, my proprietress! They really were made of titanium, indestructible; they dove in headlong, strong, breathed fire, saved the day. 

Well, I'm getting much closer to 30 and with that age comes this clarity and insight into the cracks in humanity. A few months ago, I came face to face with a revelation about some of my heroes, after whom I had named certain life lessons, theories and principles. 

One of them came out and told me this truth and I couldn't deny my disappointment. The other hero made a significantly bad decision and couldn't shake this constant habit they had gotten into. I didn't know what to do.

What do you do when you realize you super heroes have kinks in their stories?

What do you do when you realize that Wonder Woman has an identity crisis; that Superman suffers from myopia and wears spectacles and is also susceptible to kryptonite; that Achilles’ heel is weak and makes him mortal.

I saw these heroes of mine who I looked up to in a different light, and that light wasn't flattering--hair disheveled, superhero spandex suits stuck between their butt cheeks. I saw them wiping their noses on their sleeves; and staggering a little, unsure, uncertain and severely human. 

At first, I was hit with disappointment and I struggled with the disappearance of the glimmer that hallowed them so. It was like discovering Santa is a kleptomaniac or that your mentor has been arrested for fraud. It broke my heart. Then I looked closer.

I watched the hesitation in their eyes before they took steps, I saw them put up brave faces and hide their scars.

I saw their fragility and frailty.

And then it dawned on me, even heroes have a right to bleed*. They are allowed to falter and goof. Now, instead of despising them for their frailty, and for ruining my childhood fantasies, my heart warms up, as I am able to identify with them. I am actually able to reach out and touch them; to know they are real. To hold them in my arms. To hold their tears but honor them for their greatness, to hold them in higher regard than I ever did. Now to my respect for them, I have added love, one without condition. I'm able to love my broken Wonder Women and Super Men with their tired rubbery spandex and faded wind-fluttering capes.

These days they wear cotton, and sometimes linen, but hands on their hips, eyes on the horizon, in the nick of time they still save the day. 

-Dedicated to“Gigi” and“Riri” my heroes.

 Reference: *Line from Superman-Five for Fighting

What To Do When You Know The Answer To Your Friend’s Conundrum

One of the coolest things about being you is your field of expertise. There are just some areas in life in which you excel exceedingly and dramatically; whether it’s the sector of financial planning, finding love, chasing ambition, making people feel like a million bucks, giving wise advice, excellent work ethics, tunnel vision, romance, sex, adventure, doing a back flip- whatever it is…you just kill it and everyone loves you for it. 

The second coolest thing about you is the ability to identify the deficit of this skill of yours in another person’s life, i.e watching someone you know struggle with making a decision which comes quite easily to you. 

For example, your friend could say: 

“My boss hates me. I don’t know what to do.”

“He hit me and I don’t know whether to leave.”

“I earn 200 grand but I have zero savings.”

“Oh! Missionary?! That’s what it’s called? Well, there’s no other way to do it…is there?” 

*insert Dwight Shrute side eye with a smile*

The cool thing isn’t watching them squirm with the perplexity of decision-making, but it’s in knowing you know the answer but choose not to interfere with their decision making process…unless they ask for it. You might think a true friend would interfere. Relatively true, but only to some extent will your interference be genuinely appreciated. 

I recently struggled with a decision I had to make. The required skills and thought process of this issue, however, came very easily to my friend. He let me know what his suggestion was. Of course, I kicked at the idea wildly, like a goat at an abattoir. 

He just kept looking at me as I struggled with the decision. A real toughie it was...to me anyway. I eventually took his suggestion. 

But the beauty of it was in him letting me go through the motions of decision making; denial, freaking out, the still, the acknowledgement of my apparent incompetence, asking for help and guidance, praying and then making the right decision. 

He didn’t try to force me or insist his way was right and mine was shabby. He didn’t mandate but suggested. He guided and didn’t legislate. He put it out there and let me come to the realization of the wisdom myself.  

We can’t force people to take our expert advice. There’s just more satisfaction watching them flail around initially like an abattoir goat. Grin. Once you’ve presented your wisdom, they’ll ease into it at their own time or not at all. Shrug. It’s a blessing knowing I don’t have to make decisions for others. That’s not what we really are made for. We are made to excel and guide. And to snicker at abattoir-goat friends. 

What are your thoughts?! 

Dusty Desk: Writer’s block

I finally put new batteries in my keyboard and mouse. They have sat staring at me and giving me the look for ages now. They don’t seem to get writer’s block. Lol! Neither do I, frankly.

Writer's block is so tangible, yet so unreal. I stopped right in the middle of Lani’s story. Suddenly, I couldn't write anymore. Well, we can't have that, can we? Of course, you and I know we have to complete that story (me, most especially...oh the scoldings I have received. Lol!)

I love Lani’s story. She’s going through a lot right now, and I hope she can get out of it. If you  are feeling graceful, I’m happy to fish her out of the mess for you. If you aren’t, albeit the season be so merry and bright, we can get her into more trouble*grinch smile* There's always trouble to be gotten into, if you are Lani.

But it’s almost Christmas, some mercy? Aye?

---

Would you like to start Lani's story? Click the button below! 

Love At First Try

When I was growing up I was determined to end up with the first person I dated. My only sister married her first official boyfriend, so hey, I wasn’t trying to drift too far from that. Get it right the first time, babe. I'd tell myself.

No seconds.

So I met my first boyfriend...

If I ended up with my first boyfriend, he'd be at the bottom of the ocean“swimming with the fishes” by now. 

Swimming. With. The. Fishes. 

Not the“Godfather”type of swimming-with-the-fishes. He wouldn't be dead or anything. No. He really would have just devised a way to live as a sea creature, so he could get away from me and terrestrial life and anything that was associated with me. Hey, and this is not because I'm not fun to live with(Ed, tell em!) but because boyfriend 1 and I were not designed for one another and living together would have proven mildly inconvenient. And by mildly, I mean any acceptable antonym of mildly. Discordantly. Disagreeably. Harshly. Unpleasantly.

Yes, unpleasantly inconvenient. You see, me obsessing over getting it right the first time would have been counter productive, to say the least. 

I guess one mustn’t be so averse to other numbers and positions--number 1 is great but so is number 3, number 5 may be "the one" and number 11 may even dare to be divine. Be open to dating as many people as it takes to find the one. 

But if you do insist on 1, beware, he may buy himself a scuba tank, some fins and diving goggles and it's sayonara! 

Do you think you should end up with the first person you date? Did you“ace” it the first time? The thirteenth time? Tell us?

Psst! If you've been dating #1 forever and you know it isn't working out. Would you stay because you don't want to lose all that time and resources you invested?  

Burning Bridges For Breakfast

We’ve all met a few people in our lives that really deserve to be left on the other side of the pond…permanently. No communication, no contact. Just simply severed off from our lives. I’ve always believed in burning bridges, especially when the person has messed up on a grand scale, grand enough for me to applause this offense as epic. 

In my defense, I do give a considerably long rope; I consider strike one, a human failing. I consider strike two, a one-off; strike 3, a glitch in character; strike 4, she’s-just-having-a-bad-day; strike 5, just needs a squirt of grace and tolerance and a quick shine; strike 6…silence and observation as this person's attitude tilts dangerously towards epic. By strike 7 though, your name just became Felicia (bridge goes off in flames, as I walk away in slo’ mo). I actually enjoyed burning bridges. I had become so good at it, I could do it in my sleep. 

One of the things I’ve been learning this season of introspection is learning not to burn bridges. Don’t burn bridges. Why?

You may be all that person needs to be a better person.

Who cares if they become better? You may wonder(My previous sentiments exactly). Well, this much I can say, there is something about reconciliation. The whole point of Jesus’ mission was to reconcile us back to God. Forget the barbecued fishes and the miracles, the water walking and the turnt crowd as he rode into Jerusalem. He simply did all that to reconcile man to God. Reconciliation.

There is nothing more precious than reconciliation. If there’s someone you are holding a grudge against, someone you stopped speaking to because that someone pushed their luck up to strike 19, please consider mending.

Try. Don’t burn the bridge. And if that bridge has already gone up in flames, pray for strength and lay the first brick to rebuild.

"But she messed up! Why do I have to lay any stone at all?” Remember we messed up first too, we burnt our bridge connecting us to God. Lit that baby up! But God made the first move, and wrote himself into our stories. He made us right. He brought reconciliation into our world and we have never been the same since. Grab the first brick. That moment you set your first brick, hold your breath because you are about to be amazed by the ridiculous amount of light that floods your soul.

Did you miss the first entry on the new fiction series, Love Bite? Not a problem, read it here! And watch out for entry 2 this wednesday.

34 Questions Every Nigerian Ex-Primary School Student Should Ask

It was children's day last weekend! I don't know about you, but it brought back memories for me; childhood memories! Parties, puffy pigtails, amusement parks, Fanta, and of course, school! I wouldn't trade my memories of attending a Nigerian primary school for the world. It was so much fun and full of peculiar events and traditions. Very peculiar. We actually did somethings that our contemporaries in other parts of the world could probably identify with and somethings they'd never understand. Even I wonder sometimes. As a child-turned-adult, here are 34 peculiar questions I still wonder about. Try answering each question. Let me know how many reasons you could come up with. I couldn't find an answer for #7 and #11 though. Lol! 

34 Questions Every Nigerian Ex-Primary School Student Should Ask

1. Why did we wrap our exercise books with sheets of calendars? 

2. Why did school-bought food have so much dodo? And beans! Blink.

3. Who loved the smell of those moderately translucent neon colored erasers? Who chewed them (side eye)?

4. Who chewed chalk (covering face)?

5. Who in the world stayed back in those gross toilets to write "Segun loves Dolapo"? Eww

6. Why did everyone smell of old house on cultural dance day? 

7. Why did my primary 2 seat partner try to erase with an eraser and saliva and end up tearing his notebook four pages deep? 

8. Why was SOP so important?

9. Why did someone steal my pink recorder? 

10. Why couldn’t anyone decide on whether to call it a recorder or a flute?

11. Why did my seat partner spit into his recorder so that the spit drooled down the flute opening? 

12. Why did he and his friends find it amusing?

13. Why did we make sweater babies? Lay sweater flat. Fold both arms across the chest. Roll from the neck, tuck formed tube into the open hem. Where did this knowledge come from?

14. Who taught me to make paper planes, boats, jets, fans?

15. Why was transitioning from pencils to pens such a big deal? 

16. Buttermint. Tom Tom. Malta sweet. Dandy. Robot. Eclairs. Goody Goody. Sweet alagbon. Biscuit alata. Marie. Shortcake. Round okin. Eleganza. Bic. Yellow pencil. Yellow wooden ruler. Onward. 2A notebook. 2B pencil. Why do I miss these?

17. Why did the school bell bring me joy?! Were we psychologically conditioned by school bells?

18. Why was using the word "Love" such a big deal? 

19. Why was forgetting my locker keys at home such a disaster? 

Why did I sit on see-saws with strangers and have fun doing it?

20. Why did our writing notes have multi colored lines?

21. Why did one teacher teach all the subjects? 

22. Did we really have to swing our arms to marching songs? 

23. Why did I always play the Angel during Christmas plays? Ok, not always.

24. Those rulers with pictures that changed with direction to light! Why did that excite me so?

25. Round pencil sharpeners with mirrors on the back. Who was the genius inventor of this?

26. Name, Animal, Place, Thing. Why was alphabet "X" saved for last?

27. Why were some play songs banned from the playground?

28. Was primary school the time I got all these bruises on my legs?

29. Why was home time so beautiful?

30. Why did mum bring me a snack when she picked me from school?

31. Why was school excursion day so cool?

32. Why was being a brownie even cooler?

33. Stand up. Close your eyes. Raise up your hands. Why did I listen when my seat mate told me to put my raised hands down. The teacher had stepped out, he said.

34. Where is my seat mate these days? 

What was your favorite primary school memory? Which one of your answers to the questions amused you the most? 

4 Reasons You Should Read The Broadcast Messages Your Parents Send To You

If you ever wondered where your parents get those videos—the "Happy New Month" videos with the jazz sound track and the glittering letters, well, welcome to the club, it appears we will never know. My 4 parents love to send me broadcast messages and videos that have been forwarded to them by friends. The real mystery is who the people who create and peddle out these messages are. They sure know how to cover their tracks.

Our parents love them anyway.  In a way, it’s a little endearing to see them embrace technology and social media so readily. Their generation really is the real MVP. They were privileged enough to witness town-criers as kids, send telegrams and hand-written letters as young adults, they used those phones with the circular number dials in the 80s and 90s, then they moved to digital phones and faxes, then came emails, cellular phones and texting. My dad owned texting! He probably came up with at least half of the acronyms used in texting today, some of them my siblings and I are still trying to decipher until date. Owned it!

I miss using this phone! 

Seriously though, that generation amazes me, the way they have adapted to the times and adopted technology so fast.

If I were them, I’d have given up right after telegrams. So the next time they send you a message, regardless of the quality of the media, here are 4 reasons you should read it:

1. To humor them(and yourself):  The messages our parents send actually make the news at our dinner table. Ed and I go like,“Did you see the message dad sent out today?” Then we either reflect or laugh or be grossed out(my mum once sent a video of a chicken farm attendant pumping chickens with gallons of fat till they were double their sizes. We did not eat chicken for a month. Then she sent one about canned fish…)

2. To learn: Surprisingly some of these messages could be quite informative. We owe several lifestyle changes to some  of the broadcasts my parents and Ed’s parents send to us. For example, we have started drinking more water, eating more fruits and vegetables and are thoroughly aware that Jesus is coming back soon, through the not-so-gentle-reminders.

3. So you can discuss with them next time you speak: You know that moment when mum excitedly asks,”Did you see the video I sent to you?” and you start to stutter. Never to happen again! These messages make great conversation starters, and mum is glad that you acknowledged her message. The best child award goes to you.

4. To smile and remember how awesome they are: All 4 parents of mine love to send "Good Morning" messages, "Happy New Month" messages, messages containing motivational content as well as debatable political views. My favorite are the conspiracy theories. I personally love conspiracy theories and have mine stacked up in my mind. It makes me glad to know where I got this from. Lol! I try to send some back as well when I can. Yes, I admit, sometimes I'm a peddler, but only because it makes them happy!

How about you? Do your parents send you these broadcast messages? Which was the best? Are you a broadcast peddler? 

One Thing Every Creative, Parent, Spouse and Entrepreneur Should Know

I am my own biggest critic. I probably edit a piece of creative work more than I should and just when I'm done, I realize, "Nope, I can't possibly be done, that line just isn’t good enough", "That expression fails to communicate", I'd rumple my electronic sheet of paper and start all over. Of course, I'd continue to poke and cringe at it for ages even after it's published.

Everyone who has ever created or invented something-no matter how seemingly minute- has probably criticized their creation on some level. For sure, it's important to be uncomfortable with mediocre work but at the same time, we must be sure that we see the good in what we do, much more than we see the bad (Creatives, Selah).

Well, that wasn't me a few weeks ago. Critique-extraordinaire was my compound middle name, and if I had written something as awesome as the Ulysses or The Great Gatsby, I wouldn't have known. I would probably have burnt it or deleted it (if I was feeling less dramatic). I became so critical that I lost the sight of the good (spouses out there, Selah!). Anyway, as always, I was stopped in my tracks when I stumbled on this scripture:

“And He created the *insert creature*…and God saw that it was good.” Genesis 1:4; 10; 12; 18; 21; 25; 31.

Every day that God created something new, He saw that it was good. Granted, He's the grand master of all creators and creation, and everything He could ever make will be good, but He could have chosen to see how huge my nose is (which is perfect, by the way) or thought the sky was too blue or not blue enough after it rains. He chose to see good. He created, saw the good and moved on to create more! He saw the good in you. He sees the good in us, everyday.

When you create, take some time to stop and actually look at the wonder you have produced and consciously see the good in it. See the good in your creation, in your toil, in your kids(yup, they are creations too technically). See the good in your idea (Hey, Entrepreneurs). Yes, that one idea.

Go for it.

It is good.

I would love to know your thoughts! How does this message apply to you life? I'm pretty sure is transcends many more life roles than those in the title!