I have just moved in. It is empty in here and I can hear the echoes of my whisper bouncing off the walls. I dropped my blue travel bag in the other room. It sat on the cold floor feeling abandoned. It will be fine. This smell. Ah, this fresh smell of new paint has completely filled the air around here. I cannot lock it out. It will fly by. The floor has patches of cement stuck in some corners. I need paraffin to clean it.
Does anyone here have paraffin? Shoot! I forgot. I am alone.
Hi, Come in.
There are no spiders in here. No roaches. No rodents. Except that black wasp flying across. It found its way in. I will open that window to your right to let it out. Here, have this mandazi and make yourself comfortable on that stool. It is all there is here. You like stories? Yeah? I will tell you something my brain told me yesterday.
It said, “To give your blog a silly name is reckless.”
“No it isn’t,” I said.
“It is,” it insisted.
Drunk driving is, I responded. It will land you on a cold floor in jail with a bucket to pee in. The bad news is drunk driving might wake up in a grave and if you are lucky, your bed will help you rest. Then you will wake up with a lethal hang over the next day.
My brain shook its head. What else is reckless? It asked.
Having multiple sexual partners. That is recklessness 2.0. And Pelting stones at Kalashinov wielding military police officers definitely is. It is the peak of madness. There is no secret about it. You know where you will end up. If you make it out alive from those lead rockets, then you have beaten the ultimate power of irresponsible actions.
“But you have called your blog Sillie Dance,” it said, “That is insane”.
Brain, I know it breaks the rules of spellings, deletes one letter and adds two other unnecessary ones. The alphabets have given me a derided look, a look that forced my head to drop, staring at my shoes in embarrassment. Yet I still went ahead to hit the continue button and let it pass. I gave a tick, an approval, which for a moment made me doubt the decision. Then I asked, “Who cares anyway?”
The English, Brain answered.
If they sue me (they will not because they do not have the time for it), I will tell them I created my own word, went bowling with it and hit a strike on my first roll. If they offer me a beer, a very likely possibility with the English, I will turn it down. My reason? I do not like the taste of beer. It will be a sick excuse and I will glow purple, stay silent, and ask for a coke. They will be disappointed.
The truth is I scratched my head so hard but could not come up with a groundbreaking name for this place so I called it whatever felt comfortable. It is an idea that popped up during a WhatsApp chat with my teacher, Bett.
Bett talks with a marker in her right hand, occasionally tapping her cheek with it. That happens when she is teaching. She also laughs a lot in her emails and texts. Not in real life though. You will find many and I mean many award winning hahas and hehes in any correspondence (this lingo is too formal for my liking) with her to the point they will make you haha and hehe too. She is a joy to read.
And because (who starts their sentences with “And because”?) teaching is engrained in her DNA, she will show you things that will stick with you for life even when her teacher mode is deactivated. Like the word “Woodshedding.” I learnt it from her.
It is the essence of every craftsman, a practice that makes people turn pro at what they do. It is like lifting weights and doing push-ups for an athlete or running with a 50kg rock on your back for practice for a relay runner or staying awake the whole night for a watchman. It is tiring. It kills your breath. It makes your muscles ache, your brain hurts and your teeth cringe. The more you do it, the tougher it gets to maintain and the better you become.
Since we are all newbies here, if this post does not carry any sense today, just grab yourself our word of the day – Woodshedding. Google it. Live by it. Keep it close to your ear. Make your own meaning out of it. Get addicted to it and jump.
This will be my landing page, my home. You can make it yours too. That way, it will become our home, our place to play with words and to connect. If the connection does not happen, please look around for something you can grab, like your phone. Send a text to your crush and tell them you thought about them today. Let us know how that turns out.