The drama never truly ends. Not when the battle of the sexes continues to go on. But then, the world itself is all about the drama. Be it in love, relationships, flings, family, marriage, work, politics, literature or even social media. Honestly, the drama on social media is immensely hilarious. If you doubt me, ask #MyOgaAtTheTop. *points upwards*
Frankly, the #OgaAtTheTop issue has been over flogged and I’m not about to add to the retinue of “floggers”. I do feel a small pity for Commander Shem however. He probably will never forget that interview for a long time. An #InterviewOfLife that it was.
Unfortunately, life has a way of throwing unexpected baggage of drama at our ways. Drama like a screenplay out of the Ade-Williams’ #Tinsel, Olivia Pope’s #Scandal or even Hank Moody’s #Californication.
Honestly, the Hank Moody Character in #Californication is a typical example of mid life crisis gone totally wrong; a typical drama personified. So when two very close friends would render that I actually loved drama, I repudiated it vehemently with all the strength I could muster. Of course I love watching drama, but drama in my life?? That’s a no no. I was no Hank Moody.
But then, it has been an interesting past few years of myriad experiences with the truly wonderful opposite sex. Unfortunately, a little drama cannot be avoided in these instances. Frankly, it’s nothing out of the ordinary; I’ve just had a fair share of experiences. Some I have shared on this blog pages and some are suitable for a whole season of #Californication. But that’s on a lighter note. Lol. No pun is intended.
I would think that I had become immune to drama for I have been mostly sane and stable so far in the year. No episodes of banal exchange of attention; a well suited euphemism for stalking. No escapade of misplaced nuptials. No cacophony of miscarried pregnancy. No epiphany of long lost lover. No baby mama drama. No pre-midlife crisis. Honestly, I am and I have been sane.
Enter DT.
A doctor by training, a pretty face by default but a mummy’s girl at best. Lines blur, times change, earth rotates but a mummy’s girl will always be a mummy’s girl.
Her first coming presaged her second coming only in regard. In actuality, I was shocked to receive a text message full of apologies of her conduct in her first coming. That will be several months after her first coming was laid to rest.
Her second coming, fraught of superfluous attention and antics, did not deceive me. I knew what she wanted; she spelt it out in clear actions. I was almost tempted, for want of a pound of flesh, to give in to her wants in subterfuge. But then, I didn’t want the drama. I walked away.
But still the drama never ends. The show must go on.
The literary world recently witnessed a loss of one of its best ever, the iconic Chinua Achebe. His passing seem to ensue more drama and debate than would be were he to still be alive.
Achebe’s parting gift, his controversial memoir “There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra”, seemed a perfect parting gift for the debates on it are yet to cease in their numbers. Unfortunately, I’m yet to read the book; the pirated copy sold to me in Lagos traffic didn’t help matters. It was unreadable.
Tatalo Alamu (Snooper) of The Nation newspaper would write about Achebe that; “In the end, it is clear that Chinua Achebe was haunted by a transcendental homelessness in which exile became a type of home and home became a place of exiles, strange otherworldly characters and the putrid posturing”. I want to disagree.
But my usual pedantic self returned to ground zero to be reconfigured. A lot of things are happening at the same time. Hearty cheers to the world’s theatre full of drama.
Foye.
Ps. A big congrats once again to #MyogaAtTheTop, Diran, on his gracious wedding ceremony.