See, I reaaaally don’t want to write this sh*t.
As I sit at my computer, willing myself to put words to paper and conquer the appalling “Lorem Ipsum” monster, I can come up with 100 excuses not to. Why? Maybe because I am lazy. Maybe because I haven't quite found the words to characterize my year. Or maybe because lately, I find these yearly recaps to be a chore — some sort of horn-tooting exercise to show the world my wins.
“YEAHH MY LIFE IS SOO AWESOME, I’M SUCH A COOL GUY, LIFE IS GREAT, I’M NOW EARNING DOLLARS, IN YOUR FUCKING FACE”
I don’t know. What I do know is I’ve been postponing writing this piece because like delayed ejaculation, the words won’t just come.
Was it a good year? I honestly can’t tell. On the one hand, I accomplished a bunch of the stuff I set out to do in 2022. Moved out of Gbagada and sorted my accommodation issues (e no go better for you, Mrs. Jomiloju), bought my first car, and went abroad for the first time.
It was also the year I got nicotine poisoning for the first time, got into an auto accident and crashed my car (also for the first time), and got chased by Roadmen by 1 AM in Croydon.
So yeah, ups and downs.
Lesson learned?
Again, I don’t know. It hasn't felt like one of those years where there is a concerted mental shift, where everything seems to align, where you know for sure and certain you are in the right place at the right time, doing the right thing and it's just a matter of time till it all comes together.
However, in many ways, London opened my eyes to what I now know as a universal truth — Work is inescapable. 2021 me thought all I had to do was Japa and there was a nirvana waiting for me. Seeing the world has now shown me that there’s still work ahead of any dream you might have — the long hours, the uncertainty, the grit, it’s all there, albeit in a place where there’s 24-hour electricity. The realization depressed me for a bit (I do not dream of labor but a literal bed of roses) but I have since bounced back and accepted my fate.
Ummm, this was also the year I started to take Ritalin for my ADHD.
How’s that going, you may ask? About as well as shooting pool with a rope, I’d say. My attention span continues to decline like Tinubu’s bumbling speeches but I soldier on, replying to messages from friends two weeks later as they pretend to understand what it’s like to be under a fog for days at a time.
I know I frustrate them. I do not care.
If they really knew me, they would understand.
As for Facesofweb3, that lone star in the dark sky, we may be shutting it down next year. Sure, getting a $7,000 grant was awesome, and raising $5,000 for the Nigerian flood victims was rad af but E thinks it’s a bad time to launch a product, and honestly, I have to agree with her. Web3 may not be all that’s promised and with the crypto winter and the systemic problems associated with fundraising, we shouldn't be afraid to take a step back and go back to the drawing board or be encumbered by the fear of failure. Like Edison said before he stole another idea, there’ll always be more.
It's not all doom and gloom as I got to work with superstars in 2022. I got to see where a vision and a dream can take you, and I got to understand the meaning of being a global citizen. I was black, for the first time in my life and I got to see what a working society looks like. I saw zebra crossings that worked regardless of if the beholder was a zebra or not and I experienced beauty in the form of art and solid relationships. For that, I am forever changed.
I have also become obsessed with my legacy and come to terms with my mortality. What will I, Seni, be remembered as — a punster? A Joke? How do I become iconic, rare, precious, and remarkable? How do I become part of the culture and leave my mark on this fleeting world?
Well, your guess is as good as mine.
All in all, I had Asake to mend the cracks in my psyche this year. I thank the universe for him and his ability to organize albeit every other day. But 70k tickets?
Nigga, please.
Till next time,
Ola.
