I'm sick of social media. It's a needless distraction that we can do well without. I'm not abandoning social media altogether though. I'm obliged to using FB because of the Telco Colony group that I had created 9yrs ago. It's a flourishing and enriching forum that has been carefully cultivated over the years. I simply can't forgo it. Thus the refusal to abandon social media in its entirety. I think blogging is far more enriching and creatively challenging. I'll blog for the love of it, not for projecting my ego over others. I don't care who reads or responds to my posts. There is no pressure to agree or disagree with others. It's my universe, my rules. Getting back to some creativity may not come easy though. Age inevitably takes a toll, the fire in your belly rages less intensely and the world just doesn't astound you as much. Still, it's better to wander through my backyard than jump on a stage where everyone is screaming for ephemeral attention.
I'm wearing a rather striking shirt, one that makes me feel like a clown fooling around in a graveyard. Roving eyes latch on to me and make me too conscious of myself. Checkered in red, grey, black and maroon, I've excused myself into donning it and looking silly for two reasons. It's Friday and…more importantly, the last working day of the year. Tailored half-a-year back, I never had the courage to wear it, not until today. It's that time of the year when it's time to reflect on the events that transpired. Last year ended on the worst possible note. Dad had expired and I was numb with shock. The repercussions rippled halfway thought this year. Things were so abysmal initially that I had lost the will to live. Acrid in everything I did, I was immensely angered by time phlegmatically flowing through its cadence. It was as if Dad meant nothing to anybody. What right did people have to live the way they always had when Dad was no more? Why was much of the world still