Author Archives: The Capoeira Panda

About The Capoeira Panda

Panda makes his home in the world of words and metaphors. In the hopes to be more than just a confused blogger, he currently works as the editor for an ecommerce company that was good enough to hire him, and lives with his flat mates & two imaginary dogs who get along just fine. He enjoys reading good books, writing, relaxing with his friends, & poking fun at his mother over the phone. When he's not doing any of these, he sometimes sits back and wonders why anyone expects to learn anything useful about him by reading this bio.

Prodigal Words Return

*CracksFingers*

Well, it looks like everything’s just the way I left it in this place, isn’t it?
I want to say I’ve been busy, but the very fact that I can take the time to write this defeats such a statement, atink.

Anyways, it’s the festive season everywhere, and of course, people are opening their hearts and their wallets in the spirit of Christmas. If you’re a young’un, I don’t know why you’re reading this blog it’s obviously time to start looking out for what your parents and big mommies and daddies are going to get you for Christmas. If like me, you’re on the other side of that very unfair divide, well it’s time for you to start drawing up your Christmas gift list, or as I like to call it, the “how to be broke before the new year” list.

But that’s not what this is about.

Actually, I have no idea what this is about. As usual, I’ve been going through the cycle where I don’t write for a long time, start to feel really bad about it, and then start planning a comeback. I have no idea what I want to write about, but my fingers are a bit itchy (get your mind outta the gutter), and it’s time to dust off my keyboard and put some words down again.

I’m looking for a 30 day writer’s challenge to try out in January. I figure the problem is that I’ve been out of touch for a minute, and having a reason to write for thirty consecutive days should get me back in shape. I just hope I’ll be able to stick to it.

Alternatively, I’m looking for reasons to write. I recently started writing on The Sauvage, as a fitness and nutrition guy. I’ve put down one post so far, and thankfully the Editor hasn’t sent assassins after me to find out why I haven’t written anything more. Hopefully, I’ll kick off some more stuff with them by the end of the week. If you’ve got anything you’d like for me to pitch in for, just holla at me, and we’ll see what we can do (yes, Wole I’m talking to you. I know I’m pretty inconsistent, but forgive me and send me an email).

So, what else has been happening?

Well, today I was faced with the choice between being a decent member of the multiverse, and being downright very selfish. I thought it through, and realized that I could have done what I wanted, and nobody would have ever known. All that’d have happened would’ve been someone else would have taken a very big fall, and I’d have kept on stepping.

Now, don’t get me wrong, my mother raised a good man. There was no way I would have been so cruel as to let another man fall just so I could be happy for a short period. I made the decision to do the right thing.
But. It. Was. So. Hard.

It’s so easy to be morally upright when your morals aren’t tested. When things actually go different from what you’re used to? When that test does come your way? That’s where your true measure as a person is taken.
Lol I’m still here, wondering if I made the right decision by being good.
Anyways, that’s all for now. Maybe I can do this more consistently, maybe I can’t.

*shrug*


Failure and All His Friends

Some days I wake up in a cold sweat, praying to the ceiling fan above me that I don’t fail.

I’m a veteran in the field of Bad Decision Making (trust me on this), so I second guess everything I do, and look at myself with an eye that has seen the mistakes of my mind come to pass, and tries to learn from them so that I don’t make them again.
But sometimes, I wonder if I’m actually learning anything, or if I live in a world where learning from mistakes may not be too late.

Fail at what?

Everything. Everything in my life is a task I wish to accomplish successfully. From the things I have to achieve at work, to my relationship with my lover, to being a good father. I have to make decisions on these things every day and truthfully? I ask myself what makes me… sufficiently equipped to have a life.

Sometimes, I think I understand the concept of a slave/prisoner not wanting freedom after a while.

I mean, one thing about being in captivity is that your decisions are made for you. Where to go, what to do, when to eat or sleep… your life and the corresponding responsibilities are basically taken away from you, taking away the need to think for yourself and be responsible for your actions. I mean, sure you have to answer to your captors, but the burden of self-thinking (if I can call it that) is essentially lifted from you, and you’re more or less assured of food and shelter.

Or course, in the true sense of things, there’s also the satisfaction that comes with making the right decisions and seeing their results come to pass satisfactorily. Unfortunately, in the world of my mind, the good doesn’t always outweigh the bad because the truth is, the destructive capacity which the bad possesses is a tad more scary than the good.

I took a course on Creativity a few months ago (I didn’t finish it, but I sha took it), and one of the things which was taught is that failure is… good, given the right circumstances. But, isn’t the luxury of failure available only to those who have nothing to lose?

So… what if I fail? Fail as a man… as a lover… as a father… as… everything?

What happens then?

Ah well… time to listen to some Gnarlz Barkley.
A good day must be had.


Finding the Right Cubes

“Adeyemi you need to chill”
“Don’t take things so serious all the time.”
“Guy you too dey ginger”

These are things that I’ve heard repeatedly through the course of this year.

I’m not sure when I became that person; the one who thrusts himself into things with so much energy, that it seems counter productive. I find myself wanting to achieve so much, that I end up not achieving anything at all.

For instance, I didn’t exactly start typing with the aim of talking about this. I really wanted to write about how ridiculous it is that I find myself in a shit mood before the sun has found it’s way into the morning sky, but I guess that’s just the way the cookie crumbles, isn’t it.

I don’t even know why I’m posting this morning.
*shrug* fuck it… I think a good Nikky Holender workout may help lift this mood…

Have a great day guys…
-Panda-


I Do Declare

So I’m taking a class on Coursera on Creativity, Innovation & Change, and we’ve come to a place which talks about finding one’s CENTER.

Yes, this is an odd way to start a post, but it’s my post so… deal with it.

Anyways, somewhere in one of the lessons, the lecturer talks about making certain statements as a way of establishing life goals or plans. For example, he says things like; “I am ____” and “I will be _____.”

So, I decided to take it seriously and make certain declarations about my life, and I decided to share it on here. I don’t know why I’m doing it, but I feel the need to write something (anything will do at this point), so here I am.

My Declarations of Life

  1. I’m a business development executive with ___ (sorry, can’t write company name here), and I will be the best that I can be, every single day that passes.
  2. I will take smart risks and responsibilities in order to be a(n extremely) capable professional and a provider for myself, my family and those who depend on me.
  3. I choose to be healthy; physically and mentally. To strengthen myself everyday and stay away (as best as I can) from those things that bring unbalance to my physical and mental health.
  4. I choose to be a good lover, partner and (future) husband.
  5. I choose to be a good father; to do my best for my daughter and future children. To teach them everything I can in order to help them be the best they can be as they get older and face challenges in life.
  6. I choose to cultivate compassion in my heart and soul. To find within myself, the ability to love and be kind to people, without considering inconveniences.
  7. I choose to be be disciplined; never losing sight of my goals and making whatever sacrifices necessary in order to achieve them.
  8. I choose to be a success in my chosen field(s) of endeavor.
  9. I will hold on to my pursuit of success and excellence; regardless of difficulties, regardless of negative opinions, regardless of the bumps in Life’s road.
  10. I will commit to living as well as I can manage; for myself, my family, and most importantly, for God.
  11. I will commit time to all I hold to be important. My family, my work, my health.
  12. I will commit time and effort to turn what I find to be hobbies and things I’m passionate about, into actual profitable endeavors.
  13. I will commit time to improving myself on all fronts; reading more, taking more responsibilities, becoming stronger and better.
  14. I will commit myself to being successful in all I put my hands to.
  15. My family is my life. They come before all else, and I will always treat them as such.

END

That’s it for now. I’m probably going to print this out and keep it where I can see it everyday, so I never lose sight. These are the things that’re important to me.

panda-


Geniuses: How Would The World Be If Everyone Was Different?

Answer By Lauchlin MacDonald

I originally answered this question anonymously, because I assumed people might interpret what I said as bragging if I attached my name to this. However, several people in the comments and a couple people privately asked me to go public, so here I am. Nobody special, like I said, and I hope that this does not affect how people read my answer.

A lot of people have written answers to this question that I agree with the broad strokes of, but the problem with most of them is accepting that there is a meaningful category called “genius.” I have a ridiculously high IQ. Taking different tests at different times in my life, there’s been about a 15 point spread, but the highest was in the low 180s. I took the LSAT on a whim a few months ago, and with no preparation scored in the 96th percentile. People were calling me a genius all through school, until I switched from studying Physics to another discipline where people aren’t always looking for geniuses.

There is no such thing as “a genius.” I’m not one, and I’m not special. Virtually everyone I’ve ever met, aside from people with brain damage or intellectual disabilities, is as smart as I am. The only thing that makes me different is that I am extremely good at logic puzzles, and I’m better than average at math, and I am firmly convinced that those are not inborn aptitudes, but things that I learned.

So, what am I doing in my life? Am I a venture capitalist, or an entrepreneur, or an award-winning novelist? Nope. I’m just now getting somewhere in my career that I’m pretty pleased with, but I spent most of my 20s blundering around. I made a lot of emotional decisions, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and I made several aborted attempts at different professions. I moved a bunch of times, and I delayed my own plans for romantic relationships. Nearly all of my peers who were also called geniuses did similar things. The one thing that unites most people we call geniuses is intellectual restlessness and the speed with which they get bored (not positive qualities, on their own). My peers and I were lucky kids, with supportive families and lots of opportunity, and almost none of us could get our careers together before we were pushing 30. Clearly “genius” is not what gets things done.

Nearly everyone is as smart as I am. I’ve never met a cognitively normal person who didn’t have as much capacity for learning and understanding as I have. There might be Good Will Hunting people out there somewhere, but I’ve never met one of them either. So you want to know what a world where everyone was a genius would look like? You’re living it.

Our culture is extremely invested in the concept of geniuses, special people who rise above the rest of us to accomplish great things. I think this concept is a symptom of something sick in our society. Some of us like the concept because we like to think of ourselves as geniuses, and we think this somehow makes us better than the ignorant masses. Many of us also feel the need to elevate those who achieve greatness to a special intellectual category, to justify why the rest of us aren’t doing as well. We say, “Oh, she’s a genius, of course she’s a success.” We do this to trivialize the extreme hard work and absurd good fortune that is necessary to succeed in any field in this system we’ve created. Steve Jobs wasn’t a genius; he was a megalomaniacal businessman with some good product ideas who was in the right place at the right time. Change his life’s circumstances a bit, and he could have ended up as a manager at McDonald’s instead of getting rich selling us shiny pieces of metal and plastic.

Some of the other answers have said how society wouldn’t function if we were all geniuses because there would be nobody to do unskilled work. If you don’t think that there are millions of Einsteins toiling in thankless, unskilled jobs, you are fooling yourself. Some flip burgers or dig ditches or drive delivery trucks or work on fishing boats for a while, and then find a way out to something better, or work their way up to management. Some never do, and keep flipping those burgers for their entire lives. They have the aptitude and the interest that would have let them study physics, or compose a symphony, or start a successful company, but they were never encouraged to think they had the capacity, or they had no opportunity to study, or any number of other things that prevent people from doing all they’re capable of.

So what would the world look like if everyone were a genius? A few really successful people, lots of people bumbling around trying to find their way, and an enormous mass of frustrated, bored people, flipping burgers every day so you and I can afford to pontificate about geniuses on Quora.

I read this on Quora a few minutes ago, and it blew my mind. Just thought to share it with you guys.

Here’s the original post
I hope you’re having a great Sunday.


Pineapples Are The Most Delicious Munchies Food When You’re High…

And I’m not just saying that… Have you ever tasted a piece of pineapple sliced open on a warm Sunday afternoon  in the middle of March when you were higher than the temperature would have been in Maiduguri with the appetite of a mutant with the power of the sun imploding within him?

Me either, but I’ve been told it’s completely awesome.

It’s like an explosion of flavor going off in the back of your throat (any silly comments about this and your dog gets it), or like a sudden change that has you seeing music and hearing color…


Getting Bitten At The Waist by a Shark Would be a Gruesome Way to Check Out of the Cosmos System…

…and no, this isn’t really what it sounds like.

 

Honestly, I don’t know what this is meant to be. That would really be a bad way to let Life go, wouldn’t it? I just saw a picture of a guy getting treated to such a courtesy by a very ungentlemanly Shark, being typified to how women feel when they’re experiencing a bout of the Red Ranger’s angry sister’s groin kick xUltra, and part of me wonders…

 

Is it actually that intense?

 

I mean… I know I’ve once agreed that it could be like a kick to the nuts spread over five consecutive stretches of twenty four hours, but is it worse? Worse than the pain from a punch to the solar plexus? Can it feel as painful as being torn apart at the spot which holds your spinal cord?

 

If indeed, it’s that gruesome, then I must say I feel absolutely no envy for my bosom laden (C1kko, you’re not included in this description) counterparts.

 

But I skip the point I was thinking about jare.

 

Is there

 

#PressesPause

 

 

Ha… did WordPress really just crash while I was in the middle of a post? *UnsheathesSwordsAndCoatsThemWithTears*

 

Ah! Wait! There’s a Draft!

 

The morning has been saved! I haven’t typed anything in so long; I would have fallen into a pool of desolation, tears and tepid sprite.

 

#PressesPlay

 

A way worse than getting bitten by a shark, for a man to die? Having to learn another language when you’re on the downhill side of your twenties, maybe? No, I’m not complaining. Why would I? I’ve been in another country for a week, and I haven’t heard the sound of a generator for so long, my “permanent headache” syndrome has found somewhere else to hangout. Awesome doesn’t even begin to cover that.

 

But still… that picture really made me think.

 

On the flip side, is transcending “la petite mort” to “la mort réelle” all it’s theorized to be? Is there truly no better way for a human being to find Ascension?

 

Has anyone considered the joy of good amala with 300gms of assorted dead animals? Floating in a sea of well set up edikang ikong? Am I the only one?

 

I hope I’m not the only one who dares to dream…

Speaking of dreams, it’s time I caught some.

I’m going to sleep.

 

But first… 

 

Image

 

 

Good morning.

 

-Panda-


One Year of You

Year One.

*chuckles*

It’s hard to believe that you and I stuck it out.

I’m sitting here, wondering what magnificent words to write in your honor, on this momentous night (oyinbo repete).

But, all I can say is that I love you.

I love you in ways those three words cannot express. I love you in ways that can only be seen in colors beyond the spectrum.

You’ve been my partner in the journey that has been 2013. You’ve stuck with me despite our differences and difficulties, and waded through the muck and misery to find happiness with me.

We’ve been through more in the last 365 days than most people go through in a decade. Battles neither of us thought we’d ever have to fight, we found ourselves unsheathing the swords from our hearts and charging straight into it.

When we fought each other, we’d battle it to the end. Words would be said and tears would be shed. Pride stepped on and hearts ripped open.

When it was against outside forces, we’d stand back to back and take them down together. We’ve learned so much about each other, and I want to keep learning, loving and being the man for you.

I was going to speak plenty grammar and blow you away with the poetry our love should symbolize, but watching you sleep, I’m reminded of one important thing. One thing that’s just as true as the words “I love you” are when I say them to you;

My sun rises and sets in your eyes.

You are my lady, my woman, and hopefully, one day you’ll be my wife. I hope and pray that God gives me the grace to keep being the Crown on your Head, that I never put you to shame, or stop loving and taking care of you.

We’ve learned, we’ve laughed, we’ve wept, we’ve struggled not to kill each other, and woken up realizing we couldn’t imagine being without each other.

I hope we keep loving, and teach our children how to love by showing them how we love each other.
I hope we stay together till our company is the only sure thing we can hold on to, and holding each other’s hands becomes more second than kissing each other through our morning breath when we wake up in each other’s arms (more like when I wake up on the floor after you’ve kicked me off the bed.

I hope we contribute to each other’s successes, and as we get stronger, the name we’re working to build becomes something that will outlive us both.

I hope we do this for another year… and more years after that.

I hope we keep growing together.

Happy Anniversary, Kiitan mi.

I love you.

Ade Ori IreIMG_20130623_205052


Runaway Words: Musings From The Bottoms Of Bottles

He said, “The problem is, I don’t understand.”

I was a bit confused, so I asked him what he meant. He said “Every action I take is always taken from a place of good intentions, but more often than not, they’re the wrong thing to do. So I may mean to offer her roses along with her favorite brownies-in-a-mug, but end up serving up a tin cup full of tears and served on a coaster of mymagnificent intentions.”

“And when I do these things, she groans about the weight it puts on her soul, and I moan about how pussilanimus I am for treating her wrong. But unable to see me in pain even when it was of my own construction, she comes to me and tells me it’s okay. And takes me back into her arms with a teary eyed smile. We pick up the pieces of the sticks that are our broken feelings, rub them together and from the little flame we bring forth, once more create the inferno that is our love.”

I told him, “Homeboy, I feel you. So after all this, why do you still fuck up?

He said: “For the life of me, I wish I knew. I’m like a kid standing at the shore, writing my mistakes in the sand and hoping I don’t forget them. And with the high tide comes the wave of good times, erasing what I’ve written with the hopes of never forgetting. And the waves wash it away; leaving me to look and wonder what I said I wouldn’t do. I look so closely, I’m able to make out faint traces, and keep myself in check, but ultimately those traces go faint and I forget. And then I make the same mistake again and then it hits me. That’s the shit I did the first time! So I retrace the faint traces I left in the sand and smile as the tide goes low. I smile and look at what I’ve written. Till the tide is high once more and like a high person, I start the cycle once more.”

I said, “That’s heavy man. Why does she still stay with you then?”

He said, “Because she’s amazing. She sees past my bullshit and when she gets tired, remembers somewhere deep inside, that I love her. She’s amazing enough to still find that flag even in the warzone we sometimes call our love. She stays because she believes in me. And loves me in ways she can’t even explain. Ways that delight and frighten me at the same time, that keep my heart beating with a purpose and have me looking for the quickest ways to get her back beside me when she’s not there beside me. She makes me want to stand on every street corner in Lagos (excluded, are street corners in Festac, Ikorodu, Akute and Abara Estate), to ask fellas that pass me by, if they have it as good as I do.”

She stays with me because she’s patient, and knows that I try. She stays with me because she chooses to see the good times we have, and let them overshadow the bad days. She stays because she’s my eternity, and nothing could try to keep us apart.”

He was quiet for a second… “Or maybe she stays cos no one else would have her… I’m not sure about that one.” He said.

“Idiot.” I laughed out. “So you still know how to make jokes… I thought you’d washed your sense humor down after the second bottle of Jack.”

“Na…” He smiled. “As long as I have her, that sense of humor isn’t going anywhere.”

“You moist motherfucker.” I laughed as I poured him another drink. “If I’d known you’d be like this tonight, I’d have started playing Drake when you walked in.”

He laughed.

“So.” I asked. “If you know how much she loves you, why are you sitting here, reaffirming your loyalty to Lynchburg, Tennessee, when you should be with her?”

He looked up at me, brought out his wallet, and went “Charge it to my current. Add an extra 10% for yourself.”

Five minutes later, he walked out of the bar. Looking like a soldier of old; weary, but picking up his long sword, because the battle had to be fought, and he would do nothing else if he couldn’t fight it. I looked at the will returning to his step as he gathered momentum and crossed the road to go home to the woman he loved, and thought to myself…

Another day, another battle. Did he say 10% or 20%? *chuckle* he won’t notice jare…

-End-


Runaway Words: Random Writings

“I got chased by a chicken this morning.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He looked up at her with a slight smile.

“I said, I got chased by a chicken this morning.” he said to her again.

She cleared her throat. “Care to tell me why?”

“Well I was stumbling down my street this morning, and I bumbled through her & her babies in a haze of super-strong coffee attempting to overshadow the lasting effects of last night’s super-strong weed, unwittingly deciding to test what would happen if I scooped one of those squalling babies up with my foot.”

She looked bemused.

“And how exactly does this qualify as being ‘something different about you this morning’?”

“Well, for one thing, my perception is quite different from what it used to be.” Her eyebrow raised slightly. “I’ve finally understood that thing my father always said about testing a mad man’s lack of a family by throwing a stone at him in the market.”

“What?”

“And for another, as I’m sure you’ve finally noticed, I’m still slightly baked this morning. Between me and you, some of the best weed in Lagos can be found in Ikeja.”

“And why are you sharing this info with me?”

“Because you were wondering why my eyes were slightly red when I sat down, and the edges of your cheeks wrinkled when I mentioned weed, & again when I said I was still high. You haven’t gotten baked in a minute and you’re probably wondering who my supplier is.”

“You’re perceptive.”

“It’s a beneficial and somewhat annoying characteristic.”

“But that isn’t why we’re here, is it?”

“No, it isn’t, but I’m a nice guy.” He looked in her eyes and smiled again. “I hate to see a friend in need and not share some help.”

Her eyebrow raised. “We’re friends now?”

“I don’t see why not, do you? We will have some sort of… Working relationship pretty soon. We may as well get the formalities out of the way and all.”

Her face straightened. “You sound so sure.” He smiled, and his look became slightly distant. “That’s the point; I’m not sure. I’m barely afloat on a sea without shore. But if you’d seen what I’d saw, you’d certainly know that certainty without flaw is often a delusion and no certainty at all.

“Poetry?”

“By my favorite poet, Amir Sulaiman.”

“I like poetry. Is that what you were playing on your iPod before you sat down?”

He nods

“What else do you have on your iPod?”

“I’m sorry, I only share my playlists with my friends.”

“So why won’t you share it with me?”

“Well less than five breaths ago, you weren’t sure if we were friends. Unless of course, you’ve made up your mind and we actually are going to be… friends.”

This time she gave him a little smile.

“And if I had made up my mind, why do you think it should be you?”

He gave her his own smile. “Well, in the words of the great Mr. Carter, ‘Fuck with me, you know I’ve got it.'”

“A bit of arrogance?”

“Another of my beneficial but somewhat annoying characteristics.”

“And how would it be beneficial to me?”

“Feigned humility is for the weak and pretentious. You’re in no mood for either. Neither am I.”

She chuckled as she glanced at her watch. “Interesting… but, we’re out of time. It was good to meet you. Thanks for coming over.

He got up. “And you. We’ll meet again?”

She looked down. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. Could you ask the next person to come in?”

“Of course.”

He walks out, back straight like a dancer with a high held head. Although the slight stumble gave him away, she couldn’t help but smile as she ticked his application with her green pen and ushered the next candidate in for the interview. She hadn’t even gotten round to asking him any actual questions.  He’d probably be a bad influence on her if they were in the same building… But ah well.

She wondered to herself, who his supplier was.

END

So, I’m sitting and waiting for an interview at the moment. I was on the bus this morning, and I started thinking about how it would be to have this sorta conversation at an interview…
Remember, honest and beneficial criticism only.

Oh, and wish me luck.

-Panda-