The Season

And then another day passes as the world celebrates.
The world celebrates something it doesn't understand, or for clarity doesn't want to understand.
Boxes are packed, boxes are exchanged and boxes are opened,  causing smiles on the face of the participating millions.
Every place is agog with parties, revelry even. Friends and foes all alike celebrate the holiday. It's the holiday season, remember?

It happens this way every year.
The same cycle from beginning to end.
Stress and stressors ever present all year round. People running the race of rats every day. Sometimes not minding whose bull is gored or whose wheat is trampled. But when the dates come the fever precedes.
The fever sends people into the craze, the rave, for the sake of sanity. They work hard for what they can give the neighbor or neighbors.
And the neighbors work hard for what they can give to their neighbors.
The fission chain is formed, the frenzy and the fever that sometimes send chills down the spine of the neutral nonparticipants.
Is it all about that one day? Or is it about the season?
Are people supposed to live the year over for just a couple of days to live?
More concerning, are people supposed to be 'really' generous on just a couple of days in the majorly 365 days of the year?
It beats me

And It Returns

And it returns
That feeling that is known all too well
That feeling in the stomach’s pit
The beginning of the end?
Or just the end of the beginning?
Nostalgia still raves
Home sweet home, well, gone for now
School, school and it stress waves
Hope that after all, no frowns

And it returns
Standing on the threshold
Beholding with the mind’s eye the “glory” afterwards
But still discomfit with fear of the stones
The thorns in the rose garden
Plans are being made
Ideas are conceived
Fruition albeit it promise
Failure will only be grave

And it returns
The faces on the face of those who arrive earlier
Show no overt keenness
They may be masters of cloak and dagger
Or is it a shared despondence?
Everyone stumbling around in an orderly disorder
An ensemble, a prearranged chaos
Awaiting for the word “go”
To scurry along to the last note



And we return
Bid farewell to yesterday
For it is gone forever
Bid welcome to tomorrow
Hope you are here when it gets here
But as long as today is
The fight must go on
Until we return
To the places wherefrom we have come
Chinazo Peter

The Mind of The Weirdo

 My body is a temple, but my mind is a machine. My mind is a machine whose workings are just being figured out by the world around me and much to my dismay, me.

 Every human is said to see, not with their eyes, but with their brain as the eyes are just a window to the mind or the soul whichever school of thought you enrolled in.

 Every human is also said to have the “eyes” of the mind. The eyes of the mind or Mind’s Eye as defined by the Merriam Webster Dictionary is the “the mental faculty of conceiving imaginary or recollected scenes”. This gives the mind an ability, thus making it an “organ”. The mind can see things that may or may not have been there. Nice, right?

 Now to the present reality. My mind is a machine, whose workings are just being figured out by me, and influenced by the slightest and inconsequential of alterations, but seems to be away from the reach of the realm of the minds of others.

 The visual range of the human eye is limited to the visual band of the electromagnetic spectrum. Some other animals have a visual range that extends into the Infrared and/or the Ultraviolet bands. From a human visual perspective, this is paranormal at best and abnormal at worst. But from a scientific point of view, this ability has been proven to be simply due to the presence of an additional type of cone cells in their retina to the three types that humans have. This makes the “paranormal” and “abnormal”, a wrong assumption in the minds of the untrained.

 Is my mind like that of the birds? Do I “see” things differently from majority of those around me because of an additional type of cone cell in the eyes of my mind? Or is it the opposite? Am I presumptuous to assume it is an upgrade rather than a handicap? Put simply, isn’t it a case of something missing, rather than something added? The questions have plagued my mind ever since I realized its existence, and I hope to find answers to them before my time here runs out.

 My mind is a machine, a machine whose workings are just being figured out by me. With every passing day, I fathom another small part of this virtual yet real, byzantine machine. I plan to perfect it over time.

So, why have I written this? Just to request this of you. Please, bear with me. Whenever I seem to take a stance that seems off normalcy, just try to understand. I’m getting there. It may take a while. When I do that random weird thing, don’t criticize overly. My mind is a machine and I’m trying to figure it out.