For the love of the BB

I recently discovered the joys of owning a smartphone (blackberry, Iphone and the likes) and frankly speaking if you haven't then you are missing.
Like Nigeria in the light of the PHCN strike, you are in the dark.
But jokes apart, this is a serious issue.
Over 50% of the country is in a blackout, save for the generator users.
In the words of one of my twitfam (that's how we refer to each other on twitter)
"PHCN don kidnap the light sha. How much do we have to pay in ransome?".
Now that is food for thought.
From the students writing exams who have to literally burn the midnight oil to study;
To workers who have to iron their clothes for work every morning;
To business owners who depend on electricity for the daily running of their facilities.
I'm talking about scenerios we can relate to;
The barber on the street,
The fashion designer on the corner,
The factory owners...all subjected to running their outfits with a generator.
But what of those who can't afford that luxury especially in this period where economic recession is at its peak.
All because the powers that be care more about furthering their ends, we have to pay one way or the other.
How does this affect me, you may ask?
As earlier said, I recently discovered the joys of using a smart phone (a BB in this case), some of which include: Social networking via twitter. With it comes news on the go courtesy updates from my ever compliant twitfam (trust me news travels at the speed of light with this bunch);
Internet service- for general and specific knowledge;
And basically enjoying a pleasant conversation with family, friends and associates.
Now lack of electricity equals inability to charge my phone which equals loss of contact with my informants around the world which I must confess leaves me slightly disgruntled.
I'm sure a lot of you out there can relate to this.
So please...to whom it may concern...
For the love of the BB...#LIGHTUPNIGERIA!!!

Twenties Guy

As a girl in her twenties, I am susceptible to the regular toasting
Boys who think they are men.
Men who act like boys.
And the ones who have struck a near balance.
But He, I'm yet to meet.
I call him my Twenties Guy.
He is big and strong...very cuddly to hug.
He is not the richest..but has drive and prospects.
He is not the finest...but has style and commands respect.
He is cultured and well mannered...just as fluent in English as his native tongue.
He calls me frequently each day...but not to the point of being a pest.
He creates time out of his busy schedule to see me...and let's his presence be felt when he can't.
He looks at me and knows my unvoiced fears...my biggest fan, he encourages me.
He teases me mercilessly when I commit a blunder...but never uses my insecurities against me.
He tends to me when I'm sick and listens intently to my ramblings.
He gives me a tongue lashing when I'm wrong...and a moment later draws me close.
He hurts me...but is man enough to accept his fault and right his wrongs.
He is committed to his faith...together we fast and pray.
He holds my hands and instantly I feel safe...arms linked he shows me off to his friends.
He asks for my advice...and respects my opinions.
He stands his ground...but not to the point of being domineering.
He doesn't play games with my heart...and stays committed even when our love is tried.
He buys me little gifts...and surprises me when I least expect it.
He delights in making me happy...and sings to me when I'm sad.
He is appreciative of my efforts...compliments me and makes me feel desired.
He looks at me...and without having to say a word I know he loves me.
I look at him and I know I'm home...where I belong.
He isn't perfect, but he is my Twenties Guy.

P.S:(This is subject to review when I'm in my thirties.)

The Genesis

I can't pinpoint the exact time I fell in love with writing.
...It must have started with my fascination with words at the tender age of five...or in primary school where I aced all my spelling bees, most of them anyway.Perharps it was in high school, where Literature was my best subject. And English Language too. I bet the real romance started when I began writing notes to my mother, apologizing for some wrongdoing or the other.
Not to forget the many "thank you" notes, and also the ones conveying birthday wishes. And when valentines day came, who else would my friends run to? "Tomiwa please help me compose a message", they would say. And I,pen in hand, will gladly acquiesce. Of course there were the poems..messages on love, friendship and happiness. The little I knew on such subjects, I learnt at home and from the pages of mills and boons.
...Still I wrote...using phrases and quotes. Each poem having its own theme and complimenting rhyme scheme. Reading books was sure helpful. It fast became my solace-the plot, the words,the construction! Boy did I get on my sisters' nerves...oblivious to all and sundry once I was hooked on one.
As I grow older, I have come to realize that life is not all about fairytales and makebelief. You have to take the good with the bad. The sun won't always shine, sometimes it will rain. But both are needed for a rainbow.
...And so I resolved.
Rain or shine, I'll write.
...Afterall, it's my write!