I’m bored

I’m bored. And to be honest, I’ve been bored for a while now. It’s not that I have nothing to do. Quite the contrary, actually. There’s way too much on my schedule. And there are books to read and assignments to do, more in the syllabi to cover, and more to write. Not that I have much motivation to write when I’m so bored.

I’m supposing it’s the environment and monotony. These schedules and timetables make me feel like a hamster running on a wheel. I want to get out. I’m the kind of person who gets easily bored with things after a short while.

I wonder what I’ll be like as an independent adult. I’ll probably be country-hopping as much as possible/ as much as I can afford. I’m definitely a travelling person. It’s part of the appeal of the writing/poetry profession. I’ll have excuses to move around the world and attend conferences and meet new people.

Hmm…Meeting new people. That’s one thing I have to do more. I think people like me better when they know me less. I have very few close friends, but the ones I have, I love. I get bored of people easily too. The close friends I have are the ones that I’d love to uproot and drag with me wherever I want.

Anyway, yeah, I’m bored. And as I write this, I’m also tired (presently, as an effect of the past and at the prospect of the future) and I have a headache. I want to sleep. But more than that, I want to go to Narnia. Preferably on a dragon.

I don’t know. I really crave change. It’s such a strong desire right now. At the very least, I want to go on a holiday. To be somewhere that’s neither my house nor my school. Perhaps not even in Accra. I’d like to go to some resort at some beach in Axim or something. I’d just recline on some mat on the beach sound, by the seaside, with a camera, a pile of story books and an abundance of pens and one or two notebooks. Even for a week. Some psychological health-care for me.

I feel like I’m always tired. I’m tired before I go to sleep, while I’m sleeping, and as soon as I wake up. But this tiredness is not natural. It’s either set off, mistaken for, or intertwined with extreme, serious boredom.

Lack of interest is another problem. The interests I have in life have not so much disappeared as shifted. I used to be at least vaguely interested in things like math and science-y stuff. A lot of nature and things we can discover but not control were the things I liked to read. Now, I’m more interested in humans and their mentalities and behaviour. I’m becoming more interested in matters of human justice and injustice, mental health and individualism. Now, I don’t want to read a science textbook nearly as much as I want to read a very good story-book. I don’t want to work a math question as much as I want to write a short story or create a blog post.

But is it really a shift in interest, or merely a realization of my individualism?

Oscar Wilde said, “It’s what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you’ll be when you can’t help it.”

In the same sentence structure, I believe it’s what you do when you can’t help it that determines what you should be even if everyone says you don’t have to.

I like that. It makes sense to me. It doesn’t even matter if it doesn’t make sense to you. Oh, have I digressed?

What I was trying to say is that it’s probably not that I changed my interests. The issue is that I chose my own interests. I was provided with math and science textbooks so I would learn. I took them, and I did, I will admit, sometimes, out of my own free will. But nobody ever gave me a notebook and said, “Write your heart out.” I just decided to write a story, on a whim. And when I discovered my father’s laptop and MS Word…that was really the end. So, you know. My whole situation is more of a discovery than a paradigm shift, or whatever.

Je suis ennuyeuse. Wo yanfan le. (我厌烦了。) I want difference.

I’ve legit reached a point where, despite being in the middle of a lot of long-course activities, I’m ready to drop everything and fly to a whole new country (or Narnia), taking just a few notebooks and pens, and my laptop. The rest I can get when I start my new life.

I’d like to make a wish. Does anybody know a good fairy godmother who deals in such things? Even a genie wouldn’t be too bad.





African in International Affairs

We know what happened after ‘they’ came; we know what their ‘coming’ did to our continent. We know of the national boarders that materialized the imposition of ideals and a cultural invasion that marginalized us. We know of the medical breakthroughs, the incomprehensible infrastructural advances and relish in the outrageous roller-coaster of fashion trends each year. But alas, what we do not know and will probably never know, is what things would have been like if our colonizers had never dropped anchor at our shores. Well let us walk you through our own version of what would have been true then.

alkebu-lan-1260-2 The Uncolonized African Continent

For starters, there would have been no slaves, well at least not African ones. The industrial revolution would have taken forever to come around. All of that arable land in the European colonies would have been burial grounds for the Native Americans who would have…

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Man comes from seed
Comes from man
Comes from seed
Transferred the characteristics
He wanted to see.
Man comes from seed
And from seed comes girl.
Girl is unsatisfied with the world.
Man takes a seed
And with seed, plants a tree.
Tree is as big as he wants it to be.
Girl climbs to top,
And from top,
Looks down.
She thinks it feels nicer
On the ground.
Girl takes a seed
And proceeds
To throw it far.
She says,
“You’ll grow better
From where you are.”
Girl, with caution
Takes a bite of tree’s fruit.
She says she’s disgusted
By its juice.
Man’s seed is sharp,
So he’s scared to be scarred.
“You did not come from me.
I don’t know who you are.”
I’m only going to give one hint to understanding this poem: it’s about parent-child conflict.