ROUGH SCRIBBLES

Francis had not in any way imagined that he would have been so endeared with Claire’s beauty. It was the dinner and award party organized by Echoes Events to celebrate media practitioners who have made considerable impact in the industry. Francis who had been working with Fluid Media both as the Head, Editorial and Public Relations was the man of the night. He had earned himself a reputation of excellence that brought him to the up-tables with writers, journalists, business tycoons, industry men and the crème de la crème of the society.
At, 47, he still was not married, seeking a woman who can meet up with the reputation he has over the years built. It wasn’t money, neither was it a childhood fantasized woman that holds his heart from falling in love. He does not really mind if she was a ‘no-school’ girl but his desire was a woman who has the potential to keep developing and evolving into a perfection that only her interest in becoming better can earn her.
If this wish was too distant from earth, no one could have convinced Francis of this castle he has built into the air, not even his mother’s deafening echoes and pressure had change his mind of this ideal woman. One some of his regular visits after his mother had thanked him for the gifts he brought her, she will mutter quietly, ‘nwam woke, nyem nwa’. ‘Mama, can we please let this issue go?’ sometimes Francis will retort on a note laced with anger, he will later have to pacify her once he realises she is not keeping mum about it, ‘biko mama’, he will say, ‘give me time, nyem oge’.
In that dinner hall, he has gotten so lost in Claire’s awe-inspiring presence. It was like every face was on her. The press wanted to have a piece of her, and media folks were all up on her nose desiring to have her autograph.
Thoughts raced through Francis head, sending overwhelming flushes of emotions that for years he could not connect with up until the moment he saw Claire. ‘Who is this epitome? Who could steal the entire show and put the organizers and the man of the night in obscurity with just a smile and walk-around?’ Francis kept asking his engaged mind.
Little did he know that Claire did not only steal the show, somehow she had subtly stolen his heart.
Francis hummed Don Williams’ song, ‘…tempted to fall in love again’. It was like Williams wrote that piece for him, for the first time since his lonely 20 years, he missed love again. He was not really a preacher of love at first sight. In-fact, in his popular column, ‘Adam for the Eves’ with ‘The Flesh’ magazine, he had written an article he titled, ‘When I Met Love  at First Sight’, that had over one million views on his facebook and blog. The piece was a piece that carried his name all across the nook and cranny of his country and neighboring countries, making him a familiar writer for all andsundry. Part of which contributed to his winning, The Editor of the Year’. This as well was made a movie by his country’s movie industry, the WillyHood. The film which premiered the year before and had him not as a visiting cast, but to play the lead role in a 10 pages article written behind the shelf of his study room.
After the major blow, WillyHood had requested of him to write a movie script from it, and that was how Francis became not just a popular writer, but an acclaimed media practitioner who successfully fused acting into his writing career.
Francis didn’t just start with his Midas touch-he had tried some other things that he had failed at. Once he mistook his ability to write to mean he could as well sing, yes he though had this very appealing voice texture. While he was a little tender than this, he had joined the choir in his mother’s Anglican church to sing, which he did beautifully well. He had one of the best vocals in the choir and he had always received hugs and hearty smiles to appreciate him
T o understate is to say Francis is fairly known. Not having ladies would not have been Francis excuse for not getting married. He has once been embarrassed by a weird female fan who requested that he writes his autograph on her breasts. Surprisingly, Francis did, just on a fair portion of the flesh that revealed her cleavage.
The aftermath story of that incidence was a national story as many ladies started clamoring for a feel of his mystic pen on their cleavages. He had once been harassed by a fanatic fan who opened her skirt for him to write his autograph on the part that is so close to her pubic area. At a point, Frank felt it was worthy of him to drop his high morals since he had tried avoiding the temptations and invites from his radical female fans...
(Culled from a yet-to-be-published piece)


Follow on twitter @Asavodepoet1. Connect on facebook +asirvo olaoluwa or meet with me to chat on our Writers Community Training on BBM 7515B8AD

…AND IT WAS

It was a curiosity

Nudging my emotions,

To an arousal

To taste a thought,

Buried in my mind

It was the desire,

To taste a kiss,

And know how it melts,

Like butter…

Like vanilla…

It was the yearning,

For a touch,

Intensified by a crush

To taste beyond a kiss,

To do the deed

It was the hidden deed,

An emotion that I did feed

That protruded my belly

And disgraced my pride

It was a Valentine affair,

That I dared

That made this me,

Who was once famed…

Immersed in an open shame

It was an undefined desire,

Which I lit its fire,

That to this day,

I still dearly pay

The Perfect Picture

Sometime last two years after I had rehearsed assiduously under the tutelage of one of the best directors (Napoleon Ehi), of my great church, Royalty Christian Centre I got a role to play ‘pastor Tim in one of the major drama event we use to have yearly in my church. We had rehearsed for some couple of months… say like five months ahead of the event-day. We had gone through serious scrutiny and disciplines under his (Napoleon Ehi) training to bring to the church’s audience a script that will not just entertain but teach some salient spiritual truths.

If you had ever been in a drama rehearsal you will understand with me the rigours that come and go with it… ‘Fortunately for me, I got the lead role (thanks to my director for seeing the pastor Tim in me) and it wasn’t long before I got the name, ‘Pastor Tim’ added to my plethora of names… and there was one that really appealed to me, it was the name I got from our First Lady, ‘perfect man’. It though may just have seemed like any other name anyone could bear, but it was a name that taught me a great spiritual lesson. I have learnt something about God that He basically calls those things that be not as if they were so they can gain the potential to become what they are being called. That, was the reason I love that name….

Like calling Jacob, Israel, while he is yet a Jacob and like calling an impotent old man like Abram, Abraham while he is yet an Abram… such inner sight that carries with it an insight that brings out the hidden greatness in the most baseless of us… and so I saw the name calling as a bigger ‘perfect’ picture of me which I am yet to be. I loved that name not merely because it relates me to the play but because it re-affirms a truth that I believe in… that I could be better than whatever I am now.

While we rehearsed for this play titled, ‘The Perfect Church’, I realised that my director did not just want us to act but to deliver a perfect line with a perfect act. I will say we did, like my director will say, ‘we killed it!’ this was more affirmed after we rounded off the play. It was as eventful as we projected… the applause and commendations we received from people were overwhelming. At the close of the event my pastor having enjoyed the spiritual-professional content of the piece uttered in amazement these two words, ‘Whoa! Whoa!’ with applause that still echoes motivations into my head.

I knew at that moment that this piece was well written and directed by my director, Napoleon Ehi. But some few months after the event I have had to face the realities of the lessons this script had taught me…. Most of which had been flashed in my eyes in previous times but the realities just dawned….

I remembered that while we were rehearsing the scripts, some of us got our lines quite early… that however was after much yelling and scolding from my director, but some of us still couldn’t get their lines even when the days were staring at us and close to our eyes like our noses. At that point I gave my director my consent to be angry with those who didn’t get their lines and to as well change the cast if the need occurs (I didn’t say it to him literally I just said it to him in my mind), and I was happy when he did a little of that.

Later, I learnt that this was very selfish of me, while I was trying to get my lines, I never thought about that and infact when my director sometimes correct me, it sometimes doesn’t go down well with me… not most times. But I have also learnt that ‘he who didn’t grow through corrections will someday fall because of the lack of it’.

The thought that my director should change was unfair coming from someone like me who had at a point been in the same shoes with them.

Many of us find it easy to stay at the judgmental angle to correct others of what they did not do right and if we as well were to be placed in their conditions and circumstances and with everything that has interplayed and evolved in their lives we would not have emerged a flawless winner, we would have carelessly fallen a thousand times than they and make more mistakes than they ever did.

While we acted, that very day, I was though very meticulous not to miss my lines and I really did not miss any (I do not brag about this, it was God and a little bit of commitment), but I really didn’t get to that point by my effort, it was the radical approach of my director to ensure that we deliver our lines with precision and exactitude that drove me to such radical commitment. It is not like there were no cast that didn’t miss some lines but we also had to learn to flow above such when they occur.

At a point when some of them miss their lines, we form lines around them to remind them like prompters and even when they still do not, we act it out like that was how the script was designed. The result? The audience applauded us calling it a master piece even when we knew some of us fumbled. The goal? We were able to help others even in their mistakes and as a result we came out fine like a master piece crafted with God’s hands.

The goal in life is not to always point out judgmentally everyone’s mistakes like feaces on their faces but to help them navigate through those mistakes while letting them know their mistakes but not pulling them down with echoes of the mistakes.

My director? He still pointed out the mistakes, not while the act was going on but after. Why? You ask, ‘so that they can know they made mistakes and we knew but we hid it so that it will not affect the perfect act from the perfect cast  for the perfect church.

That’s quite simple! I suppose that is Christ’s pattern too save that some religious folks might make me say that ‘was Christ pattern’, like He doesn’t do that again… ‘forgive the sinner and detest the sin’. The last time I checked Hebrews, ‘Jesus is the same as He was yesterday, today and with a standing promise of forever’. (paraphrased..my version).

You could check Hebrews 13 verse 8 before you tell me I do not know the Bible.

Now what some of the perfect people with the perfect picture do is insult the sin and refuse to tolerate the sinner… correcting with hatred and not with love…. They are the perfect people with the perfect picture.

…And it was because we could float above those errors and press further even when we made mistakes that made our play the master piece it was. We set our perfection standard and when we didn’t reach it we didn’t fall into the blame circle to name names and nail ourselves to the cross, rather we played on and that was it… that is the true beauty that is revealed in our perfection voyage…something ‘Asa’ one of Nigeria’s best music act calls, ‘beautiful imperfection’.

The goal of perfection therefore is not to reach a point where we do not have a pint of fault, but to keep growing to be better even when our steps to perfection is still farther than a life-time walk. For those of us who seem close to perfection, we should learn to grow our perfections by forbearing those we started with and still do not seem to be growing…while we are at being our own best we should as well try to understand that our battles are different and as a result we should bear with others for there is no one in life that we can ever be in their shoes and that is why we have no right to condemn. I feel our struggle to perfection varies to a large extent, so while you seem to be growing rapidly than the other understand that our struggles differ and if perhaps we were to find ourselves in their own struggles we may not have even survived seven steps.

Much like in our lives, when we were younger we have had this picture of a perfect life where no bruises, scars, pains, errors, regrets and mistakes will ever find their way through. I as a young child loved the tranquility that comes with imagining the possibility of being in a state where I find happiness in getting all I want. My perfect picture was to have a father that everyone answers to and be the same. That I will have sisters that will marry the number one citizens of the world and that we would all live together having no moment of pains or sadness.

The weirdest of my perfect picture is one that I kept relishing the imagination of having all the most beautiful women I love at my beck and call, marrying them all and they all loved me and were not jealous of each other (if I hear)… and sometimes when I watched movies and there is another that appeals to me, I will bring her picture into my perfect picture and marry her into my clan of eves, all in my imagination…

What if such ‘perfect pictures’ came through for me, what would have been the perfect picture other folks like? And if all our perfect pictures happened would we not have successfully made the world a chaotic place?

Yemi my friend, who is a professional photographer, will sometimes take some imperfect pictures that he would have deleted, if not because of the possibilities that Photoshop affords him to make corrections on the little imperfections and they come out to become the perfect picture he desired.

My point, ‘there really is no perfect picture whatsoever, either we are expecting it of ourselves or in certain people we look up to’. But we can only (like my friend will make slight corrections on pictures) make some few corrections on our assumed perfect picture and sometimes in others we just forbear as we pretended in our drama that the other cast didn’t make mistake so that we can give the audience the picture they want… it is this method that gives our lives and the lives of others the harmony, beauty and tranquility that the perfect picture cannot afford us.

The perfect picture therefore is unreal… it is just one of the unrealistic expectations we set for ourselves to frustrate us when we can’t reach it and to taunt us because we couldn’t reach it…. even the perfect picture is nothing but a mere perfect picture… a mere picture created by our own human figment and not the real substance... in no way does a picture equate with reality… for there is no perfect picture, whatsoever.

WHY I WILL CHOOSE TO BE A MEDIOCRE A sequel to ‘why I am a mediocre?’

WHY I WILL CHOOSE TO BE A MEDIOCRE

A sequel to ‘why I am a mediocre?’

I have always feared the thin line between loneliness and having a great company... a company of friends I meant. People have often said that, failure is an orphan and success always has many fathers. Quiet true though but I have realised that success though will bring you many fathers but most times leave you with untrustworthy fellows.

My reason for reaching this compromise is this, when people are really placed on the scale of their ulterior motives for associating with some of us, it is always because of something they believe we are, and what they can get through what we are or have become. Like a king’s friend who doesn’t want to be called by his name again but prefers the appellation ‘the king’s friend’ somehow lost in the identity of another or the joy to relish the fact that when somebody talks of a particular figure you can arrogantly say, ‘I know him’, or perhaps pick your phone and say, ‘let me even call him now’.

Such most times, do not really wish for success but just yearn and find satisfaction of being associated with success. That, is not my resolve, I’ll rather be a success than be associated with it, because your association doesn’t make you that thing, it just gives you a level of clearance to relating with it not being it. ‘Thus, a successful individual might enjoy plethora of relationships and associations but most of which are based on what we have become and not who we are.

Some school of thoughts might actually want to relate that there is quite a degree of relationship between who we are and what we become, but really, a cursory and pellucid view will reveal the antithetical content of such assertion. True, there is a force of attraction bestowed by posterity on success but can this ad-infinitum number of persons relate with us as much as they do now when we are stripped off our ‘what we have become’ to our basic essences.

Ask every successful person, he may not be able to genuinely count a 20 of persons who would have been to them what they are to him if he had not become who he is. Please bear in mind that I said, ‘genuinely’. (And very well like a man with a limited knowledge I am open to contrary opinions as I have not found a monopolised island of knowledge for one individual, but if you do find you let me know so I go there to pick all the substance of knowledge available)

That is why an unsuccessful person can easily tell who is friend is than the successful. Why? For unsuccessful people, everyone comes to the table of life with their frailties, with their nothingness, just as bare as they are. Needless to say, an unsuccessful man has more genuine friends than a successful man, because to become a successful friend of an unsuccessful person, you need to accept him as he is even if you are a million times better than he is.

This, sometimes, attempts to tempt to make me resolve to settle for mediocrity, but I will not. What I will only do now is to put my heart consciously to identifying genuine friends while I work on my walk to success. Yet, to save you from a circle of ceaseless longing of wanting to become a success by addictively committing yourself to attaining and achieving things, I will tell you that the true matter in success is not in achieving things, but in finding a peace in your heart about your life, about who you are, where you are, those you have, and... It bedrocks itself on this... finding your purpose, for this is the only thing that makes a man larger than life.....

And mediocrity isn’t my last resort, so I refuse.... mediocrity.

Alabi Olamide Victor, (with the pen-name, Asirvo Olaoluwa sometimes called Asirvo Victor, asirvodepoet or asavodepoet) is a prolific writer who has featured in different forms of writing with prominent newspapers like The Guardian Newspapers, The Compass Newspapers, Today’s Romance, to mention a few.
He is presently the Administrative Secretary of The Renewal Team, International, an organisation designed to mentor, teach, inspire and motivate.
He equally serves as the Editor in Chief of the publishing Department of the organisation. An office he has occupied for more than 7 years.
A journalist by profession; a poet, innately and creatively, a speaker, an author and a life coach.

Of recent, he published one of his numerous yet-to-be published books, ‘Defining Sex and You’ a book distributed for free in schools and juvenile homes across Nigeria. Coupled with this, ‘Asirvo’ equally speaks in conferences, seminars and workshops.

You can read his profile and notes on the various social media where he has his presence or contact him through the following media:
Telephone:     08179126315
Email:             alabi_olamide73@yahoo.com
Facebook:       alabi_olamide73@yahoo.com or Asirvo Olaoluwa
Twitter:           @asavodepoet1
Blogspot:        www.asavodepoet.blogspot.com