30: In the thick of it

This is an ambitious post to write in less than 5,000,000 words, and limited to one volume. But you and I know that “Ambitiouspost” is my middle name. Let’s talk about the glory of our thirties. 

In our thirties, life begins. Forget the first three decades of your life. If you haven’t established a certain moral code of conduct, sense of style and chosen your favorite wine yet, I guess your thirties will indeed be wrought with unprecedented, unplanned, badly managed surprises.

That’s all there is to it—suprises— thirty is full of surprises. Spoiler alert. 

But first, the good stuff.  

Surprise #1 Freedom

In your thirties you suddenly see no sense in trying to impress anyone. The new slangs weigh heavy on your tongue because you are one second away from being the weird old has-been-wannabe saying “okurrr” and overdoing the“r”. Guess what? You say it anyway, what do these youngin’s know? Spell cassette. Rewind it with a pen. Floss? “Do I know how to do the Floss?” Of course I do, with a string or the stick. Oh, it’s a dance. This Floss you are talking about is nothing. Try the flex or the butterfly or the running man while wearing hammer pants. Okrrrrr!

Surprise #2 Prudence

It’s the age when you decide whether you are going to be an old, beady-eyed corrupt perv or not. In your 20s you’re an idealist, busy saving the world. You’re still saving the world in your thirties but what else are you doing? Still sticking to idealism? Life isn’t so black and white anymore. Is it? Now there are shades of grey—more than 50. Now there are multiple choice answers. It’s now or never ever. The defining moment, and every little action you do paves the way to your forties which, is a tiptoe away from your sixties which is when successful people get smacked with corruption charges, and get tagged as #MeToo predators. Side-eye.

Surprise #3 Wisdom

In your thirties you become very wise, Sensei (which is how you avoid the charges and stay corruption-free. Wee!) The wisdom probably comes from an increased awareness of life and our role in it, and also from being burned several times and learning from horrific mistakes made in our twenties. On the night before thirty, you feel it seeping into your veins, and the room emanates that gentle glow of discernment and  insight with all the application steps to all the problems you tried to solve in your twenties. Yes! Suddenly you’ve attained all the wisdom you’ll ever get, and believe you have the answer to everyone’s problem and will attempt to make world peace. Get ready, World! Then you discover the world is crazy and smoking on a giant bong and doesn’t want peace. Because think about it, if there’s peace, then earth becomes attractive, aliens will finally stop their surveillance, land their UFOs, move in next door and start using our WiFi.

I hear you, World leaders, WiFi and sharing will always be the most contentious topics on the forefront of politics. 

But WiFi-theft crisis aside, the world needs us thirty year olds and our half-full optimism (or whatever is left of it) and our new burning, incomplete wisdom (it gets complete when you hit 150 years). The world needs us and she can not tolerate forty year old fools, it hurts her back. 

Surprise #4 Everything is on purpose

This is the season we find purpose, and to all the overachievers who discovered purpose as toddlers: What. Ever. We finally made it. Tongue out. 

If you haven’t found purpose, I’ll give you an underlying, common clue. It involves people. It involves you and people. You helping out people or just one person. The thirties is the season when you realize your life really isn’t about you at all. Now you got the memo. I got it late too, it was probably intercepted by the toddler overachievers. We love you guys. Fake smile.

Surprise #5 Trials and Temptations

In your thirties, you will get hit by great challenges which will attempt to scramble your moral code and question a substantial portion of your values. Even Jesus got tested in his thirties: bread, stones, and stuff.  If you have no values and principles, pour yourself a beverage because life is about to stuff its own values down your throat and they taste funky. 

Surprise #6 Mom, is that you?

Your thirties is when you become your parents; when those traits you swore you’d never adopt start to show. It’s when you take on mother’s hysterics or father’s hairline. It’s the time you press down on the imaginary pedal when your friend is taking sharp bends, because you do have some money in the bank now and will like to spend it. It’s wild, the similitude. And you’re ok with it. Shrug. 

Surprise #7 Under Pressure

In your thirties, believe it or not, there’s peer pressure and self pressure, societal pressure, marital pressure, political pressure, financial pressure, social media pressure. It’s Pressurtopia. A new life management tool known as“saying No” is to be employed. Say “No!” to pressures. I say No to all pressures now and also to random strangers, just to scare them before they project any pressure. 

Surprise #8 Money, Journaling and Strength

It’s also the season when opportunities come your way and you must do your best. If you havent’t achieved much, you still have at least 70 years to change that. 

Guess what you don’t have 70 years for though? Strength training! You need to start that like yesterday, because your basal metabolism is lower, your body is choosing to store more fat, if muscle isn’t built. Your body produces less growth hormone, which means the mid-rid of mid-life is here, and if for any reason you shave your hair, you will look like the Michelin man. So, yesterday, strength training. Pronto.

Yes, you finally have more cash and can buy seven Ferragamos while sitting in the frequent flyer lounge. If you are an aggressive shopper, be an aggressive investor too. Invest here, there, and way over there. And if you are not in the lounge but sitting home with nothing to invest, invest in yourself. Do something. Anything. Wait, don’t do anything. Do only legal stuff. Lol. And hold tight. It really gets better. It’s the greatest time to be alive (I will also say this about 40, 50 and so on).

At this age you must keep a diary, with sincere, explicit details which is not left in plain sight, not with everyone being a blogger and all. You’d be surprised how many diaries you’ll go through in a year. Keep a journal, tell us yourself the details. I repeat, keep records my friend, so no one can press charges. This worked recently for an official and all charges were dropped. 

Surprise #9 Parallel Parking

Finally, it’s that decade when you can learn to parallel park like a pro. A guy just parallel-parked a Tundra next to me in one try. His forties are set, and in his fifties, he will be king. If I don’t learn this now, I guess I’ll have to get a Mini Cooper…which…I think I may have trouble parallel parking too. 

Wisdom, minis, aliens, parallel-parking, Ferragamos, okrrr; I told you it was ambitious to get this done in less than twelve volumes. It’s the great 30s. There’s nothing dirty about it. It’s the greatest time. Before we go I’ll let you in on a crazy secret about your thirties (and forties and fifties): If you choose to be happy regardless of its surprises you are going to have a ball. 

Describe your thirties in one word! What would it be?

For me, it would be Surprise!

Orange is the New Knack

Have you ever heard about prison literature? It is a literary genre characterized by literary work written while the author is confined in a location against his will, such as a prison, jail or house arrest.

I didn’t know it was a thing! I guess if you’re locked up somewhere for a while, you’d maybe be forced to pen down your thoughts.

Counting and crossing out tally does get old. You’d probably write a book too or a song, like Tupac did!

Check out a list of books written in prison at the end of this article. I was surprised by the first one.

Anyway, the only Prison Lit I’ve ever read would be the books of Paul of Tarsus. He was in prison when he wrote a good bit of the New Testament. The best thing about those books was the state of his spirit. He seemed content, hopeful and joyful, probably more so than the people he was writing to. He focused on teaching them about God, with the hopefulness of his imprisoned life.

Imagine if he had chosen to focus on his problems and magnify them. We’d have something like this:

“Well guys, hey, I’m still in these chains. I keep telling these guards that I’m a citizen of Rome. I’m a real Jew. A Jew of Jews! What else do they want from me? From the tribe of Benjamin. Did I mention I was circumcised on the eighth day?

He-llo!

The press is outside, I’d like my voice to be heard about this injustice. The food is terrible and I can’t wait to be home again eating Sister Phoebe’s lamb stew.

The prison cell has mold clusters the size of Corinth.

I don’t mind being interrogated but the breath on these guards. Help!

So I mentioned the other day that Diotrephes has been acting up. What’s his deal? I don’t have time for his pettiness.

Anyway, I’m still here.

Sigh.

It’s ok that you haven’t come to see me at all. Just continue living your best life while your friend is here rotting in prison. Please tell Carpus I need my coat, the one with the invincible stitches which I left in Troas. I hope Atrius hasn’t borrowed it and gone on his fishing expedition. That’ll be gross. It’s tailored.

There’s this particular guard who seems to be going through a lot and seems interested in Jesus, but I told him, “Hey, at least you are free and you don’t have these miserable chains around your ankles.”

Am I right?

He’s here again mumbling about believing in Jesus. I should share the gospel but I’m just not in the mood, guys.

Did I tell you about the watery soup of minestrone they serve on Mondays? Not my favorite.

Guys, I can’t even in this place. Lord, help.

Stay woke. Stay ready.

The soldiers can arrest you at any time. I can testify. ”

Well, thank God he didn’t write any of that nonsense!

I say this from experience, seeing past your chains and limitations can be hard. I caught myself complaining a few weeks ago, I probably sounded like this rant above. Till date Paul is my favorite Prison Lit author.

Instead of ranting like me, he wrote these amazing verses:

“Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear.” Php 1:12-14

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice.”

Php 4:4

Perspective. Chains. Optimism. And some more perspective.

Other works written in prison:

Orange is the new black

Piper Kerman

A Prison diary
Jeffery Archer

Conversations with myself
Nelson Mandela

Pilgrim’s progress
John Bonyan

The Travels of Marco Polo
Rustichello da Pisa

More…

Do you have a favorite Prison Lit? Which is it?

The Sex Recession

Millennials are having less sex than previous generations. I never would have guessed. Apparently, it appears the sexagenarians and septuagenarians are steaming things up more than we are! Now seeing that generation in a new light.  That’s way too much light. I officially can’t look at them the same again. Nope. Our parents, aunties, uncles. Presidents. Blindfold me, please! *Insert bird box reference* 

From observation though (not research), I’m sure generation X isn’t doing too badly either.

Generation X had Keith Sweat and Jodeci crooning into their ears in their teenage and young adult years. They are bound to still be reeling from all that—Usher taking it nice and slow; Another level trying to lick something*stare*; Ginuwine’s pony. Enough said. It was Steamatopia with those guys.

So what’s going on with millennials?

Many things.

Apart from our lack of songs laden with sexual innuendos and contrasting verbal cues, the truth is, millennials are busy. We may be the most achievement-oriented, self-actualizing generation that ever lived under the sun. There’s too much to be done. Goals. Checklists. Agendas. Breakfasts on the move. Presentations. Walking lunches. Meetings. Networking drinks. More checklists, ticking goals off, having apps that tick them off. It’s the life. There are targets to be hit, creative juices to be channeled, entrepreneurial heights to be surpassed, a whole continent of terra nillus in innovation and business to be claimed. Millennials are busy building empires(for other people and themselves), meeting deadlines and turning in deliverables. They are not interested in riding ponies or licking anything. Well, they are happy to fight along with animal protection for injustice against ponies or any other animal in the equine family and beyond by clicking to sign a petition. But that’s as ‘pony’ as they plan to get.

Millennials are at work, trying to get ahead, reinventing the rat race, roller-blading down those green tracks.

Small wins and big wins are the new O.

There’s also social media. But I choose not to dwell. All I can say is turn off to turn on. Shrug. Also you should read this article about the benefits of sex.

There is some good in all of this though. Reported sexual abuse is at an all time low! How wonderful is this? I guess pervs are elsewhere doing other things—maybe laughing hysterically to memes on Instagram or learning to knit on Youtube or to cook on Yummly.

I wonder what other effects this recession may have:

Will the prices of condoms and contraception plummet? Will there be a reduction in contracted STDs? Will the porn industry see a boost in demand? Will the sale of sex toys reach an all time high? I hope human trafficking nose-dives and crashes. Traffickers will have to find a day job or diversify into selling caffeinated confectionaries and energy bars. Shrug. Business idea, trafficker. Thank me later. Let your victims go and put together a business plan!

I guess in all of this, I am proud that the sexagenarians and septuagenarians are getting it on at least. Those guys, even though they are still trying to figure out Skyping within the frame, they really are troopers where it counts.

What are your thoughts? Any other reasons you think millennials are choosing to skip sex?

Glad For Some

It has been such a magnificent year. I turned 30, and I matured like a fine bottle of insert your favorite wine.

I met the most charming little boy who lived inside me for months, came out and now laughs and eats and poops. Babies are a mystery to me. I can explain it physiologically of course—the sequence of the birds and the bees. There’s embedding in the uterine wall, the development of the umbilical cord, the legal siphoning of my food without permission, the kicks, the getting on and leaning on my nerves(literally)in vivo. It still is a mystery. Did you know you can feel your baby hiccup inside you? 

Fascinating.

One day, I’ll share my pregnancy journal on the blog. It’s hilarious.  It has titles like “The war against umami”, “I can smell the toilet down the street” and “Chin hair—Becoming Gandalf.”

2018 was a fantastic year of self-reflection, discovery and love.  

I made some new friends. I learned. I grew up! I relearned to love. I relearned to write.

And I have some people to thank.

Have you ever met people who you are just glad their parents made them? That daddy bought flowers(or suya) that night, that mummy flirted and pulled his mustache (or however mothers flirted in the 70’s and 80’s) and things happened and this awesome person was born?

I’m grateful to have you in my life. I’d say you know who you are and I know you do, but I’ll just call you out anyway:

Ed (I thank you in every language on earth and in heaven)

Itunu

Abidemi

Akofa

Damilola

Djeneba

Ehi

Thank you for being in my life and for a wonderful 2018. Have the best new year.

xx

Happy New Year, Everyone!

Jurisdiction to Love

As a woman, I have deluded myself into believing that I can change anyone I want to—like a fairy godmother with a restless wrist and a sparkly wand, turning pumpkins into carriages and mice to noble steeds. I have carried this belief from dating, into my friendships, into family, into work, into teams, into almost every aspect of my life. If you’re a woman, maybe you have too?

So, do people really change? Of course they do. I, myself am constantly changing everyday! My 2016 self wouldn’t even recognize me. Hey, girl! *Smacks lips*

I guess the question is, is it my job to change people? And who bestowed this responsibility on me. I guess women just have this natural propensity for identifying an ideal state of things and willing their loved ones in that chosen way.

*Shrug* What can we say? 

I have realized though that it’s not my job to change people.

It’s my job to love them.

It’s my job to correct them, if it’s within my jurisdiction, but it’s always my jurisdiction to love.

I like that.

It’s easy!

Why didn’t anyone tell me this before? Do men do this too—try to change people? 

P.s Good luck if you’re trying to change someone you’re dating and Godspeed if your working on changing a spouse.

*Laughing in Cantonese*

Back in the Saddle with a Car Seat

I’m back. I say that too often. But I am. Back in the blogging saddle, baby. The only difference now is that I have a car seat behind my proverbial saddle. I have a little one. A mini Ed. Best feeling.

Describe the feeling? It’s like heaven, hard work and fun had a baby, that baby is the feeling of having a baby. I’ve confused us all. Haven’t I? Shrug.

So the big question, “Ike, are we going to start seeing titles such as ‘5 positions to burp your baby while in a car seat’ or ‘8 ways to purée avocados and beets’?”

No.

I’m still the same ol’ me! Only now I have superior skills in multi-tasking, clipping tiny baby nails , doing the Rafikki baby-lift while singing 'Circle of life' and singing non-traditional lullabies remixes of actual nursery rhymes, worship songs, and Daft Punk (It is the sci-fi age after all).

I may mention mamahood sometimes but predominantly, it’s still fiction, love, and God for you and me. Oh, glee.

How to Avoid Buyer's Remorse in Marriage (If You Are Single)

Over the last few years, being married to Ed has taught me one thing— read reviews. The guy reads reviews like it’s a Jeffery Archer novel. I’m usually one click away from my online purchase when I hear his voice in my head, “Have you read the reviews?”Even better, I’m at the store and the item is in my cart and I’m eager to buy that baby, when he comes up to me, places the item back on the shelf and says, “I just read reviews, it has two stars online.” 

I admit, it’s frustrating but he has a point. Every single time, he rescues me from buyer’s remorse. I’m also a bad loser when it comes to regrettable purchases. Once I realize I have bought an inferior item, I literally can’t sleep. I take my receipt to bed with me (not kidding, lol), and at the crack of dawn, after a shower and breakfast(because those have to be had) I’m off to the store with the product and my rumpled receipt. 

While we all follow wedding blogs and IG accounts, and we "uhh!" and "aww" at those photos, a lot of married people suffer from Buyers' Remorse. Buyers remorse is basically an unpleasant feeling of regret you feel when you realize you’ve bought an inferior product or basically a feeling of discontent with a purchase you considered valuable. If you’re anti-buyers-remorse like me, it’s a great idea to read reviews before getting married. 

How do you do that? 

Wouldn't it be great if we had an online platform which reviews to-be-spouses like reviews.com does for all things consumer goods?

Until then, the best way to avoid buyer’s remorse as a single person is *drumroll* by objectively observing this dreamboat-person of yours and also observing the quality of your relationship; by listening to the honest opinion of people who love you genuinely (not haters, you’ll know the difference); by observing how he treats others and his family; if you are insane enough— by asking his ex for reviews *side eye* (chances are she will block you and report your account across all social networks). She'd be a wonderful resource though *pensive*. Probably not the best idea you and I have ever had.

Paying attention to reviews work wonders though, with any purchase, especially an intended purchase who intends to share your living space and toothbrush *blink*. Once you’ve done your homework, you’d know whether to zoom straight to the cashier with this awesome steal or put that baby back on the shelf... way back on the shelf! 

What are your thoughts? 

4 Things I wish I knew on Dating Boulevard

This post isn’t sponsored by reviews.com. They just write objective, honest reviews and I like that. 

Where Do Broken (Male) Hearts Go?

Where do broken hearts go?

If you said “the heartbreak hotel”, congratulations, you just dated yourself. You are right though, kinda. According to several studies, broken female hearts go to “the heart break hotel”, a place where they cry, delete and/or burn relationship keepsakes and memorabilia, cry some more on a friend’s shoulder, rant and sing-along to sad pop songs. For the broken male hearts, many of them go into a dark alley, which I call “the hole”—a place where they bottle up their feelings, grow a beard, drink a little too much and desperately seek distractions to preoccupy their minds. After being here a while, it’s no surprise they end up enrolling in the greatest institution of all time— the Royal Academy of Heartbreakers (RAH).

Yes, it would appear that heartbroken people tend to go to either of these two places when their hearts have been ripped out of their chests—the Heartbreak hotel(HH) or the Royal Academy of Heartbreakers (RAH).

As you would imagine, at the RAH, students acquire the unique skill set of breaking hearts, after taking the mandatory first year prerequisite of Emotional Dissociation and a 4-unit course in Commitment Unavailability. 

Eventually, they graduate with flying, soaring colors, wearing their academic hats, and are handed their certificates along with a pitch fork. They are released in legions into society, where they make their alma mata proud by sweeping through Ladiesville and leaving many shattered hearts in their wake. The female survivors of Ladiesville then check into heartbreak hotel...It’s all a vicious cycle.

Research shows breakups have a more devastating effect on men than on women. Mainly because they don’t choose the most effective way to heal. You know, beard..."the hole"...bottles of ale...rebounds. And no, the best way to get over someone isn’t by getting under someone else. The hurt and pain still stand unresolved. 

Men aren't endowed with the emotional support women get so freely from friends and family and men lack safe spaces to express how they truly feel in every step of their healing process. I personally believe they deserve a safe place where they can bawl their eyes out, etch gothic scribblings on walls, chew their toe nails, shower once in two months and munch on dry cereal. Or at least have the option of wearing duo-tone spandex while wailing and miming to Taylor Swift songs in their bathroom mirror. They deserve the safe space to process their emotions so they can recover properly. 

According to Dr. Miller of the University of Utah, *heads up, sports/orthopedic analogy* when a rookie suffers from a fracture or bone injury, there’s a chance their bones may not heal right . This is usually because they may undergo non-operative treatment, in other words, they don’t select the right treatment plan for their fracture. This results in malalignment of the bone. This mutation is sometimes visibly observable in some patients. You can tell a mile away. When the proper healing route isn’t selected, sometimes, there’s a malformation. (Men, note that I chose sports and bones as an analogy because it’s all macho and stuff. You are welcome.)

When a heart doesn’t heal right, then out come the pitch forks.

This guy surely has a pitch fork.

It’s a great idea for your heart to heal the right way. But how do you know your heart is healed?

Answer: It’s available to love again, wisely but genuinely. You also don’t own a pitch fork, you aren’t in possession of little black books (or the modern day equivalent, whatever that is) and you aren’t a renowned creep on dating websites. And of course, your beard is grown for a good cause. Of course. 

What do you think? Did you heal right from all your past relationships? Do you think men get enough emotional support in their heart break journeys? 

Related posts you'd love: Get Over Him On A Budget!  &  The Sunny Side Of Your Breakup!