Here's Why I Want the DOW to Stay Low (...for a while)

I had this status update on Facebook today:
"Am I the only non-shortseller who wants the DOW to to come back down? Come on world, I'm not done averaging down yet!"

And, my cousin asked,:
"why d u want d DOW down? I thot u moved in already..."

The answer is simple really. Three words: "Dollar Cost Averaging".

Most of the people I know bought into the market relatively recently. And, according to those who run stock data, the share price of most corporations was severely over-valued. (Depending on who you listen to, over the period between 2005 and 2007, the average DJIX stock was trading at between 20 - 24 of its Earnings per share ("EPS"). In a balanced market, shares should be trading at c. 14x EPS.

All of us, believing that good times never end, and making the cyclical mistake of generations before us, happily bought into the market. Think 401K. (If you're sophisticated enough to have a ROTH already, you probably don't need this explanation in the first place.)

Now that the market has mellowed into bearish straits and approximately 38% of the DJIX has eroded (from its 2007 highs), the only cure is cost averaging. Simply, you buy stocks at their currently lower price to offset the high cost basis you have in the stocks you purchased during the unbridled exhuberance of the mid-decade.

Since I'm one of those unfortunate people who still earn a monthly check, my ability to buy into the market comes in spurts that are triggered at the end of each month. If the DJIX goes up, the cost of the stocks increases and my average cost in the stocks I buy currently also increases. Since my gain (when I eventually sell the stocks...wohooo!) is the difference between the sale price and the cost basis, the higher my cost, the smaller my already-budgeted-for-a-trip-to-Paris gain.

So, please, DOW, slow down (preferably, drop for a bit) so that I can rack up a few more paychecks, buy more stocks, average my costs down, and sit back while another cycle of (hopefully, your) unbridled exhuberance brings my puppies home.

So, there!

One of Those Days.

I wanted to blog about tonight before I forgot the feeling.

So, I feel pretty terrible right now. And, the reason isn't a host of things. It's one simple thing. I got b*tch-smacked by today's rain.

Worked late, got the job done, I stepped out unto Madison Avenue and it was the most beautiful drizzle...the lights of the City bouncing off each raindrop; taxis racing through the rain; beautiful people walking past me anonymously - just the way I like it. I even stopped to buy flowers. 12 roses, tulips...something. So far, so good. I walked ...past the emptyness of Bryant Park and the bright lights of Times Square...all the way to Port Authority - in the drizzle. Really romantic, when you think about it in retrospect.

And then I got unto the bus and had the usual uneventful trip into my little City. Uneventful, except for the little matter that - eyes open - I missed my stop. By a lot. Of course, by now, it wasn't drizzling. It was raining. No way to wing it but to walk through the shower.

So, today, I got home dripping. Dripping wet. Wet like I haven't been since 2005 when I waded through sewage water on Adeniran Ogunsanya at midnight to get home from work on an equally unforgettable night. Same thing today without the sewage. Same streets, almost. Same feeling: shoes wrecked; clothes sticky; head spinning.

Now, I'm back home...barely warm. And the only positive thing? Probably that the flowers made it back home just fine.

Watch this cute video that I kept playing over and over last week. You'll love it - I promise. Perhaps it will cheer both of us up too.

(Love) Poems from My Past (The Final Prologue)

1.

One Love, Lover of One,
I’m loving and missing the mild beauty your face brings;
Sleepless in this quiet city, awake from the confusion of loneliness
Searching for you, my summer thing, while my heart sings to your morning ring;

And as I close my eyes every night to your nude curves,
The clouds of discovery open my eyes and I realize the extent of my hoping
Just before my mind slips into sleep with romantic twists and turns

One Love, Lover of One,
How you surpass this shyness that stands in our way …looses me in the finding of the door that opens your heart of honey,
And while I discover the jewels that line the path to your most precious place,
Remind me of the sound of the tone of your low moan, again and again…

Increase my faith in the essence of love that makes us what we are: lovers that sleep and wake in the gulf of uncertainty that eventually becomes a part of us while the rest of the world ignores the depth of our belief in each other

Lonely tonight, lonely every night,
Wondering how beautiful it would be if you were near,
Full of sweetness that I just wish was a martini in a glass – I would not shake; I would stir,
Then, to sip up and drink it and drain that sweetness until your taste becomes the flavor of my sensual, thirsty tongue

Come inside me and thrill the blood that flows within my veins
One Love, Lover of One,
Keep me company until my excitement expires and all that remains is the warmth of your breath on my skin as I wake in the morning…blessed because your love is here...every night.

=====================================
I think I wrote the poem above on my loneliest night in Baton Rouge. My muse was onye anyi n'eche mgbeobula ....
=====================================

2.

The strangeness of the earth gets me
Today, I saw a man who had been able to fly, over cars and airplanes
He had seen the top of the taller trees and had breathed the air from the highest hill;
But, today I saw him …
Stammering..., I saw his left hand shaking
As his lips quivered, at the words coming out of his mouth;
Now he cannot walk, barely talks, certainly has no view of the high skies
He refused to disappoint twenty thousand people sitting out in the sun to see him fly.
He has succeeded in disappointing his soul….

The strangeness of the earth gets me,
Today I walked into a city that everyone loves,
tall buildings,
dark nights,
myriad cultures
...Sachmo’s tunes,
The city weaved and bobbed and the world rocked in sync with it;
But I hated the air, the water, the snow and the rain in the city,
The city had no soul, the rhythms had no muse and made me lonelier than yesterday
Tireless places get me tired

The strangeness of the earth gets me...sober.

======================================

3.

As I sit in the center,
These lush green fields make room for me,
Invite me to stay a little longer, resting;
The breeze serenades my necklines;
And the warm setting thaws my skin from the freezing air conditioning inside my building…
This is where I would call home.

Everything around me is unfamiliar, convoluted and contorted to make the normal madness that was common now seem strange;
Closing wounds that took eons to open; freeing my spirit to flow around the taverns of dreams that spin around my eyes each night that I lie awake in bed dreaming of you;
Yet, this is where I would call home;

So, now I stretch my brief legs as long and as far as they can go,
I lie on my back and inhale the rays of the red evening sun of this city,
And each short nap is a spasm of hypnosis where I imagine
That gentle people are regaling themselves,
Laughing around me,
Walking their dogs,
Playing Frisbee,
Jogging by the lakes,
Sitting beneath the flag of a country they love,
Sunbathing with an abandon that means hunger and want are distant strangers.

Gentle oak trees, happy people, lush green fields inviting me to stay a little longer,
And the breeze serenading my necklines….

I imagine that I am in a place where I would call home.

===================================
You have no idea how wonderful silence & peace are all to die for.

Love Poems from My Past (II)

I wish we were grown up and married,
But, then, I'd miss the courting and the quiet years
Of me loving you in my youth and in yours as well.

I wish were an old couple.... Hey, hell no!
Then, I'ld have forgone the 'rushing to work' so I can 'rush back home'
Into your arms and kisses of gold and perfume,
As well as the frollicking in strange hotels and rented rooms.

I wish we weren't so young so you didn't have to
Go away and leave me here all alone
Even though I know I'm in your heart wherever you go.
I miss you like anything I've ever longed for,
I miss you like my best 'yesterday'.

So, I'm sending these hugs to keep you warm tonight
Praying that someday onwards all your nights will be mine as well.
I'm blowing you these kisses to wet your face
And to smudge that self-indulgent make-up of shades of sunlight,
To say I love you no matter how you look.

And every prayer I make will be full of your names -
Angel, Duchess, Countessa, ... Friend -
I'm asking for everything beautiful and true,
For yesterday, For today, & Forever with you.

-------------------------------------------

Sometimes, you look at your past with the benefit of hindsight, and shake your head at your ... innocence(?) As a subscript, we must truly learn to be grateful that God does not answer all our prayers!

Love Poems from My Past.

That Quaint Road

You who make diamonds more beautiful,
I saw the glitter of your footfalls.
On that quaint little road by chance,
I felt the fluorescence from its lit borders
And from the swaying rhythms of our gentle romance.

Now, I walk that quaint little road day by day,
Sometimes stopping at the quaint bar with the dimming lights
Where their champagne tastes so like your skin,
But intoxicates in lower degrees.

For whatever happens in your arms frees
My turned-up mind in a thousand ways
And wiping from your gentle face drops of sunlight
Is all to desire a hundred years from today,
Spiced with lots of our laughter and my dreamy nights.

So, now, the color of our essence solely remains as
My hazel brown crystals lost in your more splendid topaz -
These eyes only dream of beauty's form in tips,
Till you materialize, and, enchanting all that you see
Dish love in golden petals drunk by my silent lips
Setting alight all that should live in me.

=================================================================

Old, Old memory this poem. Love, romance, the usual. It's the remix of a poem I wrote a long, long time ago that got published somewhere. It's certainly over ten years old now. I set out looking for something else and found this cute poem somewhere amongst my relics.

Everything now makes sense. It was for this one person that I wrote all those years. And now I am blessed to see her everyday.

Existentialism* ... and my random thoughts on the meaning of life [1]

• "The world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those who feel."**
• All attempts by the individual, termed 'consciousness,' to attempt to map an order or purpose unto 'the other' will be met with failure, as 'the other' is non-rational and random.***
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[I'm not sure if this is a good time to post this but thinking about it gave me a headache. The permutations are complicated ...so, I'm posting it anyways.]

I hate large philosophical terms like 'existentialism'...'positivism'...'ecumenism'... 'phenomenalism'… bullsh*t-ism. But, three random things have occurred recently to bring me to write about an ism today. First, a former colleague lost his family house to a fire. For anyone familiar with Black Tinkerbell's blog, that is the reason for this post. (Blogger's permission required.) Secondly, yesterday was the annual World Food Festival in Mid-Town…that's between 40th St. and 56th St. on 9th Av., Manhattan. I had the intruiging company of the beautiful atheist. Conversing with her was…interesting in an end-of-life kinda way. (I assume that is what one is when they have 'no religion/spiritual beliefs'.) Thirdly, I walked into Mass today to hear the monotonous priest reading an excerpt from The Gospel of John. (Yes, I was 5 whole minutes late.) It was the prayer of Jesus just before his crucifixion.

I told you they were random events. Well, … almost random.

In Black Tinkerbell's post, she almost agonizes over the meaning of life. I think we've all done this at some point in our adolescence-to-maturity metamorphosis. It usually hits us when someone we know meets real tragedy; when disaster becomes personal to us.

In talking with the beautiful atheist, she told me about how she attempted to deal with the death of her boyfriend. She was a mature teenager. The type that people expect to have most of the answers. The type that people look up to for inspiration. The type that no one thinks to ask if life is less-than-perfect. She resorted to drinking as a way out. She had no religion and so there was no, 'It is well' to avail herself of. (By the way, if you know someone who's met tragedy, plzzzzz DON'T tell them 'It is well'! Say something you really understand and mean, something original …OR SHUT UP!) It set me thinking about how you pull through life when there is nothing to…………………….. just, when there is nothing.

The monotonous priest was less dramatic. If you're familiar with the prayer of Jesus, you might know that it speaks about His present and our future. Anyways, somehow, the priest found a way to turn his homily into a discourse on our purpose in life. And, while he lost me in the drift of his sermon, I stayed awake sufficiently enough to hear him concur with what I've always thought life means…assuming life has a 'meaning'.

However, before we get to all that, a couple of comments about existentialism and Walpole's quotation. I already said that I hate isms. However, I love Walpole's words. I always have. Mainly because the world amuses me and aggravates me alternately, depending on whether I am thinking or feeling. In short, all of the quote applies to me.

Existentialism, on the other hand, tells me that the Individual and all 'it's' choices are all that matter. The world is random. God, if he exists, is indifferent. Life is meaningless. Anyone with religious beliefs recoils at the thought that God might not exist as who or what we think. We are jolted into denial that life, as we know it, may have absolutely NO meaning or purpose. We want to think that we wake up in the morning for a reason; that our loved ones have not died in vain; that our privations for the sake of morality are not ignored and that we will be compensated by karma or the Eternal Ones; that 7 virgins await us when we offer up our lives to blow up the kaffirs…. In fact, we want to believe.

Unfortunately, everything as you fear it, is a possibility. We may be here for nothing - merely to live, breathe, and to die. The Big Bang may account for everything we know today as well as for what tomorrow reveals. The Almighty may be nothing than a filler for the eternal questions that we are too cowardly to answer. I think Voltaire tells us that if God did not exist, it would be necessary to create Him. This is what existentialism forces us to contemplate.

I do not believe you can fully appreciate the Deity until you consider - and accept - that He may not exist as you think Him to be.

Stop. Think. God may not exist. (Do it.)

Sh!t… then I'm totally screwed.

Pause again. Deep breath. Let's move on… in a future post. [Stay Tuned.]

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* A philosophy that emphasizes the uniqueness and isolation of the individual experience in a hostile or indifferent universe, regards human experience as unexplainable, and stresses freedom of choice and responsibility for the consequences of one's acts.

**Horace Walpole, 1717 – 1797

***Albert Camus (pronounced 'Kamy'), 1913 - 1960

CONVOCATION

I guess I am jaded by events and gatherings and so I didn't think it was important to describe my impressions of the 2007 Law School Convocation at NYU. Anyways, I woke up this morning thinking that it would be a good thing to describe my thoughts as this particular event occurred. Hang on for the ride… It's an easy one today.

Perhaps, it's apt to say that nothing disastrous transpired (disappointingly) at the Convocation. The organization was very good from the get-go. I got to Madison Square Garden, after one of my eternal subway rides, at about 9.15am. I was so sleepy on the train that I was afraid I'd go past 34th St. Penn Station…and maybe wake up at Canal Street!
("Canal St." is my hypothetical subway perdition. When I have an early morning class, I usually get to my proper stop at West 4th Station just a few minutes before the class starts. Waking up at the next station – Canal Street – means that I will certainly be late since I have to ride the train most of the way to the end in order to change trains. Picture this happening when I have an early morning exam…………………… my point exactly!)


Anyways, I walked into The Garden feeling a bit too excited. After all, it is The Garden…Muhammad Ali knocking out Joe Frazier (1971); Hulk Hogan body-slamming Andre the Giant (1983); The NY Rangers winning the Stanley Cup (1994). Turns out we were at some section of MSG other than the arena. No matter, I was glad to be there and that’s all that mattered.

There was the usual hullaballoo. Parents panicking more than their children; picture flashes going off in your face inadvertently; people talking too loudly so you’d not soon forget that they were there (and interfering in your video recordings while they’re at it)… you know…typical convocation brouhaha.


We filed into the main hall according to our specializations, or the lack of it, as our individual situations required. Everyone looked rather resplendent decked out in purple convocation gowns, black hats with gold trimmings, purple ‘hood’ in hand. (I realized later that the ‘hood’ is not really a hood.) The hall was already full of people – parents, tribesmen and women, relatives, sponsors…. There was music playing. The only way I can describe that is that it was the same music “Macho Man” Randy Savage came into the ring with at Wrestlemania IV.

The event proper started with Dean Revesz speaking in his usual staccato, quick-fire manner. He spoke about the feeling of graduating from the “top” (?) Law School in the country and stepping into the light of leadership. He introduced a representative from the University as the second speaker. She spoke about… who remembers what the heck she spoke about!


Then student speakers took the floor. First was a girl. She was something called an Ann Brice Scholar, I think. She was Puerto Rican. She had started a non-profit organization for young, poor kids to apply to the best schools through the LSAT. The organization gave the kids a chance to break their chains by giving them an opportunity to study law at the nation’s top schools. After her, a tag-team of an Israeli and a Lebanese followed. They spoke about the recent war between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon and how they had been able to synergize their differences. Or, at least, managed to not order hits on the other throughout the academic year. It was touching.

The Keynote speaker was Corey Booker. He is the Mayor of Newark, NJ. He is a “political rising star” (Wall Street Journal). He once went on a 10-day hunger strike to protest open-air drug dealing in his community, and his greatest influence was a little woman called Mrs. Jones who lived on the 5th floor of the Projects and spoke in triads. Knowing that NYU loves their prestige, I was afraid they’d invite someone like Bernanke (in his confused manner where no one ever understands the point of his message) so, I was a bit surprised to see Mr. Booker. Turns out he was the best thing at that event. One thing he said that I remember:
You do not get everything that you pay for, but you must pay for everything that you get.
He got a standing ovation when he was done speaking. Many of us will not live to fight a cause, let alone dying for such a fight. Apparently, we all recognize that inherently. It may explain why we are so much in awe of those who are willing to run the gauntlet, sit beneath the fire, and weather the storm for causes they believe in.

Corey Booker was good for my soul that day.

After the speeches came the individual ‘hooding’. As I said, the ‘hood’ is not a ‘hood’ at all…except in the most imaginative way. But everyone gets has their name called; gets hooded individually, has a handshake with Dean Revesz; and has a picture taken beside the NYU Law flag.


With circa 800 graduands from the J.D., LL.M., and J.S.D. classes, I didn’t have the stomach for the entire proceedings. I left soon after my hooding. Strolled around Madison Square Garden a bit. Made a long phone call to Nigeria. Then, I hit the subway and made my way home. Later that evening, I had dinner with friends and generally basked in the reprieve from staying up at these ungodly hours for so many nights.

I haven’t looked back at my year. I’m just glad to be over with getting this degree. When I look back at it, I will probably smile, laugh, frown, sign, and shake my head. It took a range of emotions, coming to NYU. From being 3 days away from deportation to sitting with Vice Presidents at the World Bank and being applauded at a Tax Researchers conference, it has been valleys and hills. I’ll have to run through my emotions some other time. Right now, I’m just content to bask….

NYU Law Graduation 2007

The Video's on the profile bar. Much tidier...

Why Being A Nigerian Is So Hard

I culled this article from The Guardian Newspapers (Nigeria). The article actually came out a few weeks ago. I had to write the author for permission to publish the article. I think the article is remarkable because it gives a wonderful backdrop for the situation Nigerians and Obasanjo, the outgoing president, now find ourselves. It explains why, for the temperate ones amongst us, disappointment is more prevalent than anger over the last elections.

The author recently suffered a personal misfortune caused by the sometimes unpredictable weather overseas. Loss, inevitable as it is, always remains hard to bear. And so, I sympathize with him.

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Why Being A Nigerian Is So Hard
By Sonala Olumhense
sonala.olumhense@gmail.com

It is safe to say that Africa is awash with poor countries. Africa literally defines poverty. We are first in line when development is the subject because when they flip the coin, the terms that emerge: "poverty, ignorance and disease." Actually, this ought not to be so. Not for Nigeria anyway.

Nigeria is known to the world to have great promise, a quantity (or quality, if you please) that is evident when you look at the resources available to Nigeria. We have hundreds of miles of fertile land, should we wish to grow food. We have water, should we choose to develop fishery or champion swimmers. We have forests, should we wish to hunt, or on the contrary, to develop reserves for the preservation of any form of nature.

We have trained manpower stretching from the southern Australian coast to the northeastern fringes of Canada; from tiny hamlets in Argentina to China. You walk into the most elaborate office or business overseas and there is a Nigerian there trying to hide behind a funny accent or the most sophisticated couture. We try to demonstrate what competent professionals in the hope they will forgive our nationality.

We have money, because we are raising great taxes from everything from retail sale to middle class incomes. Should we wish, we can shake down the thieves in our midst who have raided the public till for many years. In any case, we have petroleum profits falling off our bodies wherever we turn.

This is why 1998 was such a momentous year. Sani Abacha, who had appeared to be taking Nigeria to hell, left for hell first. Poor Moshood Abiola also died. He had won the 1993 presidential election, but was denied. Thereafter, the gates of Nigeria's prisons were flung open. Out emerged Olusegun Obasanjo, understandably Abacha's enemy for here and hereafter. ''Abacha was more than evil, more than sadistic, he was actually mad,'' he angrily told the New York Times at the Murtala Muhammad Airport weeks after his release in 1998. ''Look at what he did to the nation's oil industry. He closed down our four refineries so that Nigeria would have to import refined fuel and he could make a fortune on those import deals. As a result we are paralyzed because we have no fuel.'' He was sitting in the presidential wing of the airport, waiting for a plane out of the country to meet with Mr. Nelson Mandela in South Africa. ''We are one of the world's biggest producers of oil," he reminded the reporter, "(but) we have no fuel. We have more power stations than we need, and no electricity. Madness.'' Of his perception of his role in Nigera as he resumed his celebrity, he said, ''Perhaps I can be a stabilizing influence, a conscience for our nation.''

Nigerians listened to him, and to all those men in Nigerian prisons who spoke of how humble and humane Obasanjo had been as one of them. When we looked up, we saw a man who could do better than being simply a "conscience." Within months, we voted him president. It is understandable that Obasanjo was never able to hide his hatred for Abacha, and he would go on to exact his pound of flesh-or pound sterling of vengeance. He followed the smell of every penning Abacha ever stole. As a Nigerian, I am grateful for this, choosing to believe he did it for Nigeria, rather than self. In the larger scheme of things, it does not seem Obasanjo needed Abacha's loot to make a difference. After one sorry term of office that ended in 2003, the elements were in alignment with him as he began his second. In the West, a United States-led effort in the Middle East saw war breaking out in Iraq.

War is always an ugly response, and it was no less so in Iraq early that year. For Nigeria, however, it engendered an avalanche of revenues from petroleum. They were revenues that were begging to be poured into the conquest of poverty and ignorance; into the revival of Nigerian industry and housing; into the rebuilding of our infrastructure and morale; into the re-engineering of the Niger Delta and our agriculture; into investment in education and education in investment.

This is always when being a Nigerian is so exciting, so challenging. In Obasanjo's hands in 2003 was the chance of a millennium. He could prove Abacha wrong; in fact, this was far more important than Abacha: he could right the wrongs of a generation of rulers and adventurers. To accomplish that, Obasanjo needed to do only one thing, not two. He needed to halt corruption. Everything in Nigeria is a function of corruption, and he knew it. He needed to declare corruption banned, and then stand up like a man to the vested interests that would resist him.

He knew also, that there could be no talk of development or good governance-he had said similar things for two decades-unless he "manhandled" corruption. And he knew that most of the vested interests involved members of the party in power, the one of which he was national leader, the PDP.

In few countries and few situations can the risk/reward picture be any clearer than this. Obasanjo knew it too. In his second term, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC), would shoot out of the gates following the appointment of its chairman, Nuhu Ribadu. Any progress on the corruption front in the past few years is owed to this man. Obasanjo's plan then, was to go forward by preaching reform, not performing one. The formal plan saw him in most of 2003 and 2004 launching "reform" programmes, but one rarely hears of them anymore. He does not mention his flagship scheme, the National Economic Empowerment and Development Strategy, anymore. He speaks neither of its progress nor its prospects, obviously because it has none.

But back in 1998, as he sweated in that airport that could not give him airconditioning, he identified everything that was wrong, and what needed to be done. He then got an unusual second opportunity in office, accompanied by worldwide acclaim and support. Everywhere he looked, he had skilled Nigerians waiting to make a contribution. Everywhere he looked, he had resources with which to make Nigeria work again. He could give us electricity, drinking water and jobs. He could build roads. He could keep us safe. He could open the door into Nigeria for tourists and the door of opportunity to foreign investors. He could set high standards. He could show the world he was for real.

For eight years, Obasanjo had it all in his hands, but his prevarication, double-talk and insincerity saw it all collapse. Now the world knows the real Obasanjo. Today, he has only one month left in office; he has expended seven years and eleven months extracting failure from the claws of success.

This is why it is so hard to be a Nigerian: to be so near yet so far away. As a Nigerian, I have experienced great lows and highs when there was a chance to vote, or when there was a coup d'etat. I have clapped to lines of cheerful voters on Election Day, and danced to martial music on a coup morning. I have listened to great inauguration speeches and read promising development and reform programmes. I have celebrated every new beginning, each one, but none arrived with as much promise as what we had in 1999.

As Obasanjo prepares to live office without leaving Nigeria alone, we must be careful about people who claim to be the messiah. That was what Obasanjo thinks he is, and he is wearing criticism of his colossal collapse as proof of that status. Instead of humbly accepting his humanity, he says Jesus Christ was crucified, after all. Here, however, is the best part: we can start all over again. Freedom Day is May 29, 2007.


Pasted from <http://www.guardiannewsngr.com/editorial_opinion/article03>

Birthday thinkings

I almost forgot about my birthday. At the very least, I certainly forgot to blog about it.

I guess I fall into that category of people for whom a birthday is just another day. Well, ... backtrack...that's not true. I love birthdays and what they symbolize. I know they're inherently ambivalent (everyday is really a step closer to the grave, or a day closer to increasing maturity). I just never celebrate them. I don't think I ever have. I've never really had a birthday party. I honestly don't want one...honestly.

This year, I was in the thick of exams on my birthday. Oh...wait! That was exactly what I was also doing last year! Fuck! Education really has consumed me in more ways than I can imagine.

I have these random thoughts on my birthdays. They skirt through my mind very lightly - never imposing, never interfering; neither judging nor condescending. Just the way that sincere thoughts should be. When you ask, 'so how do you feel?', here are the things that fly by my mind:

I am glad I'm here. I'm remember that the others are not.
I say a prayer for every name I can remember: I pray that I never forget

I can breathe the air; I'm thankful for what I have and whatnots

I sigh at the blankness in front of me; and, I smile at how far I've come
I try to remember just how old I am; it always takes more than a second of thought
I remember when I was 17 and love that it was my very best year
I remember the women that have been there for me; I try to ignore those that have not
I try to think of exactly where I was a year ago, and it always gets better
I try to think of how many I won, from all the wars that I've stayed and fought
I nod because I think everything will end up just fine
I shake away the worry that all this may have been for naught.

I always think that someday, I'd be able to fly my friends in and we would sit down together and talk about the old days...about our dreams and how they've come to pass or failed to happen. I'd love to see everyone's significant other and hear my favorite stories about our past experiences again and again. I'm sure I won't wait for a birthday to come by before I do this. But if I have a birthday wish...this would probably be it.

The Internet World's Top Hoaxes!

Here I am...3 hours before my final in-class exam.... and I decide to click on the Yahoo! icon on my perpetually-open laptop.

I saw this story about the Top 25 Web Hoaxes. I really despise those chain e-mails that try to make you feel guilty if you don't send them along. It is one of my commitments to my sanity to be a stop-point for any such email. I pray the prayers ('Our father, we're sorry that we have sinned....'); pity the pitiable children needing me to forward the email to all my friends so that AOL will contribute 7c to their surgery (as if AOL cares in making Yahoo!/G-mail more widely used), etc. But, I do not forward the emails.

Personally, I think the world is crazy enough - just as it is!

Worth only my silence....

"It is only a fool that does not know that ...we are living in a state of anarchy."

- Femi Kuti [Award-Winning Afro-beat saxophonist]

Nigeria's Presidential and Senatorial elections happened on Saturday, the 21st. I personally did not deem it fit enough for a current mention on this blog. I once learned that, "Silence is strength. All else is weakness." I will match the insane corruption of those elections with the silence of disdain. Things will change for the better - and, regardless of the corruption, this change is inevitable.

Please Listen to a down-to-earth soundbite of Femi Kuti giving his thoughts on Nigeria. I concur entirely with everything he says.

Enough said!

An Ode to Death

Yesterday, a sad fellow took a gun and shot over 45 people at Virginia Tech University. He killed 31 people immediately. The rest he succeeded in putting into the hospital...some in critical condition. He left everyone worse than he met them. I gave up a part of my life coming to grips with death. After all these years, I realized that the attention-seeking, crass self-believing, devil-may-care, indiscriminate Intangible called death is also immutable. As you can see, we did not come to grips on anything - except agreeing to disagree. I refuse to give it any more attention than these lines.

Here, below, is John Donne's poem that I promised a few posts ago. I'm sad that it is now so apt. It was not my intention.

No Man is an Island

No man is an island, entire of itself

Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,

as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind

and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls

It tolls for thee.

-- John Donne (1572-1631)

Elections, Death...Milestones.

The Peoples Democratic Party in Nigeria literally whitewashed the opposition in last weekend's state elections! This map shows just how much political territory the PDP garnered. Make no mistake, it only justifies their position as the most corrupt political party in the world.

Killings, riots, sorrow, tears and blood have followed this win. The opposition is up in arms and no one is under the illusion that the PDP has won fairly or with merit. The Police are under siege in numerous parts of the country. I fear for the cheapness of their lives as a misplaced footnote in 'the Nigerian cause'...whatever that may be. It is the bane of our underdevelopment - to be outmaneuvered by the illegitimate and the illiterate. President Obasanjo must be grinning to his ears. It is a shame to see that our political process has not improved in 8 years of 'democracy'.

However, brightness! The Supreme Court has reasserted its independence by approving Atiku Abubakar to run for President. While I disagree - prima facie - with the Supreme Court's rationale on this approval, I shall have to reserve my judgment until I read the text of their reasoning. If I were more famous, I'd probably get flamed for 'dissenting'.

I must say that regardless of all the negatives emanating from shoddily conducted elections and the widespread violence, I believe there are upsides to these elections. I think Nigeria has moved forward in its democratic growth. Granted, our electorate is still uncouth in huge respects. However, I predict that the level of political consciousness will lead to progressively more activity in the minds of many. Such consciousness will bring forward people with some genuine interest in making Nigeria more than a byword. I am hopeful that more dreamers will find the light and the path.... I truly believe....

On milestones. I gave out over 1 million Naira today. In a single act. It happened so quickly that I didn't know when it was done. It happened so so quickly that, only after I had given it out did I realize that I actually had it. I did not have it yesterday. I did not hear applause when it happened. Indeed, it happened, not with a bang...but with a whisper.

Elections in Nigeria!

My Gosh! I have been soooo remiss!

How did I fail to inform your good selves that Nigeria's elections (gubernatorial) took place today?! Preparing for these exams is literally driving me bonkers. Well, at least, now you know. The elections for the states' Houses of Assembly also held today.

There have been reports of violence in certain parts of the country. Port-Harcourt, River State has been most reprehensible. Police stations have been burnt and voter's cards have been stolen prior to the elections. I guess the thieving candidate's rationale is that, if he'll get very few votes, the least he can do is ensure his adversaries get none at all!

Ingenious thinking - when you consider it dispassionately.

In Delta State, they went one better by burning down the office of the Independent National Electoral Commission [INEC]. I wonder how that brings the voting closer to the perpetrators. As Nigerians, we are disenchanted by the government. So, government property is government's property - not public property. If we burn the INEC office, the government loses! It's Nigerian logic and it assuages an otherwise helpless mind.

I saw this picture-slide on the Financial Times. It shows a town called Aba, in the Eastern part of Nigeria. I am always torn on whether to praise or criticize the one-sidedness of the perspective international media give Nigeria. One would think Aba was a slum from those pictures. In fact, Aba has a concentration of some of the richest Nigerians! On the other hand, I imagine that showing Nigeria as a rich nation undermines concerns about the glowing disparities in human capital and wealth distribution in Nigeria. Anyways, international coverage of Nigeria is a matter for another day.

I am confident of the positives in these elections. The ruling party, the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) will find itself undermined by its inability to lift its candidates to victory. Many states will be close calls - which will naturally lead to more activity in the courts. However, one thing is certain - power will change hands. I hope this means that we will inch closer to the rule of law.

*John Donne's poem in a later post.

*Pictures Courtesy of Yahoo! Photos.

Beautiful Lyrics

I love classics!

This week, I have received 2 emails with a difference: they both came with a poem attached! One was from Lenny Schmolka arising from his class ramblings in Mergers and Acquisitions. The other was from a wonderful, old friend. And impressive poems they were too - one of my old favorites by Elizabeth Browning, and the other by John Donne; a poem that I so believe in.

So, in celebration of beautiful lyrics, I have reproduced the poem by Elizabeth Browning below. I couple Mrs. Browning's poem with another of my old favorites. I will save the poem by John Donne until my next post. This other poem below is by Christina Rossetti. I include it because it shares similarities with Mrs. Browning's depth, elegance, grace, and love-theme writing created with such sensitivity that only women can encapsulate in words.

I think you may find a chance to reassess your meaning of love going forward.

SONNET XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

I love thee to the level of everyday's

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

I love thee with the passion put to use

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath,

Smiles, tears of all my life! - and, if God choose

I shall but love thee better after death

- Elizabeth Barret Browning (1806 - 1861)

SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE

REMEMBER

Remember me when I am gone away,

Gone far away into the silent land;

When you can no more hold me by the hand,

Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.

Remember me when no more day by day

You tell me of our future that you plann'd:

Only remember me; you understand

It will be late to counsel then or pray.

Yet if you should forget me for a while

And afterwards remember, do not grieve;

For if darkness and corruption leave

A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,

Better by far you should forget and smile

Than that you should remember and be sad.

- Christina Rossetti (1830 - 1894)

A million milestones

I once read that in order to consider one's life a success, one has to accomplish 3 things:
write a book; plant a tree; and, raise a child.
I think the writer's meaning is that a successful life is composed of things that live beyond us and add to the betterment of the world we live in.

As a younger man, I came up with my own milestones to define success. And being Ibo, naturally, each of them is defined by money! In fact, they are all defined by a single amount of money - one million! And here is what I consider the definition of a successful life. I shall consider my life successful when I have done all of these things at its right time -

1. The day I earn 1 million Naira from all the works of my hands;
2. The day I earn 1 million Naira from a single work of my hands;
3. Giving out a total amount of 1 million Naira over the course of my life;
4. Giving out 1 million Naira to a single cause;
5. Earning $1million from all the works of my hands;
6. Earning $1million from a single work of my hands;
7. Giving out $1million over the course of my life;
8. Giving out $1million to a single cause from which I can get neither direct nor indirect benefits.

I have long stopped believing in unmeasurables when it comes to improving this society that we live in. And there is something magical about six zeros behind an integer that equates to achievement in my mind.

A parable:
A rich man had made a huge fortune in a foreign country. He received numerous awards and prizes for the fame of his work. And, he returned to his own country for a short visit. In the course of his visit, he had the opportunity to give a speech to a semi-literate crowd in his old village. On the podium, he said, 'I am so glad to have come so far and for having received so many accolades. I received the Nobel prize and the millions of dollars for my lifelong research.'

For effect, he picked up a little boy from the crowd. He asked the little boy, 'would you like to win the Nobel prize someday'? The little boy shook his head. The rich man - taken aback - said, 'well, what would you like to do then'? Disarmingly, the young man said, 'I would like to give someone millions of dollars for their lifelong work'.

I took the moral of that story...whatever it was.

Have you had a wonderful week?

I Am Confidential...!!!

My darling friend in Amsterdam introduced me to the subject of today's piece. Sometimes, you come across something and it changes your life forever. If you can appreciate the video link, it may change your outlook to life...f-o-r-e-v-e-r!

Watch Essien as she follows her dream. You'll be glad you did! You might want to watch this bloke here too. I really think my life is changed from here going forward.

So, how's your week going?

Baton Rouge in Technicolor!

Today, I decided to post pictures of happy places! That certainly does not mean that I'm unhappy in New York. I shall post pictures of New York in due course. However, my attachment to place la rouge - also known as Baton Rouge, is indelible. I thought it would be more in character to start where start should be...whatever that means!

Yep! It's mostly always sunny in Baton Rouge. Post-Hurricane Katrina, the weather is excellent. It is one of the few places in the United States where it never snows!

It's a bird! No, it's a plane! ... No, it's ... just beautiful people enjoying the sunlight! A friend amongst friends 11 times out of 10!

The Paul M. Hebert Law Center Library at the Louisiana State University. This place holds very fond memories for me...including my first salary in the U.S., at minimum wage!

The East Campus Apartments - excellent premises for students. 'Relatively' affordable...if your relative is the Upper East Side, Manhattan...!

The French-Brazilian and the Nigerian pilgrim. Excellent friend. It is hard to imagine that they will meet again. What else does hope exist for, if not to continue believing?

2 out of 2

I've come full circle on the job search arena: The World Bank Group has offered me a job as an Extended Term Consultant under the Legal Associates Program; PwC has reinstated their offer of a Tax Associate position.

I guess there really isn't much to say about the World Bank offer save to mention, with regret, that I cannot accept it. The Extended Term Consultant [ETC] position lasts for 1 year, extendible for an extra year; subsequently, the consultant may accept a more permanent position at the WB. My research shows that you cannot spend time at the Bank in excess of an aggregate of 4 years. Coming off the aches of a J-1 home residency requirement, I am not so eager to dive into another time-constrained position.

I sent the documentation from the State Department to PwC by email attachment and receved a phonecall in return. I think my starting date is sometime in September 2007 and it will be a happy event to have my life on a path of certainty after 3 years of unpredictability on the rollercoaster of life.

It's remarkable that people might think the World Bank position is more desirable. The Legal Associates Program is very prestigious, no doubt. And, under different circumstances, I would select the World Bank in a heartbeat. Yet, it would only be an ideal position if I was younger. I no longer have the luxury of accepting positions without clear opportunities to progress vertically. Ironically, the offer call I received from the WB mentioned that I was being hired in spite of my relative lack of experience vis-a-vis the other candidates. How paradoxical life is.

The Office of Career Services at NYU emphasizes that only 18% of students receive offers from the International Student Interview Program held annually in New York. My interviews from the WB and PwC were the only interview positions I got from the ISIP. I guess it also comes full circle that all the law firms sent me rejection letters without giving me a chance to interview. You can say that I am relieved to be done with the interviwing process in every respect. And in the nick of time too!

From the sublime to the ridiculous

Here is a remarkable event in my life:

I got a letter today from the Department of State - A recommendation has been sent to the Citizenship & Immigration Section recommending a grant of waiver of the 2-year home residency requirement on my visa! I really didn't believe this was possible.
The implications:
1. I no longer have to worry about being able to leave the U.S. after my Masters program;
2. I can accept any job I want!
3. I can make mid-to-long-term plans using the United States as my parameter;
4. I can get a Green Card in the forseeable future.
5. You really want more reasons? com'on...be excited already!

Unto other things:
- Nigerian forces freed 3 Europeans from the Niger Delta today;
- The Vice-President, Atiku Abubakar, fell off a threadmill and flew overseas to treat the injured knee!
This story is particularly worrying. It does not make sense that a presidential candidate thinks nothing of spending $3000.00 of taxpayer's money on travel in order to check-up an injured knee.

I realize that writing about myself will soon fall beneath me. It is almost time to begin writing exclusively about issues that matter. I look forward to attempting to change the world with my writing. I will probably not succeed. But it will be fun to try.