#11 crash landing like a boss

Today, I'm going to unload on you another controversial concept, but before I do, let's ponder for a few minutes, the concept of Gliders.

Yes, gliders.

The early to mid 20th century was filled with fascinating technologies in the field of war that begun with such promise but essentially went nowhere. One of these (that figuratively and literally went nowhere), was the glider.

Think of this concept; an engineless airplane towed in convoy into battle by a single engined plane like the carriages of a train and let loose, to be essentially crash-landed by its pilot. You may control the roll, pitch and yaw, but without an engine, that plane is on a one-way trip earth-ward. 

For people like me, the idea of glider-borne infantry conjures up images of commando raids, stealth missions, and daring dos. 

Today, you may imagine a glider sailing down as metaphor for a term that has become apt to describe everything from human exploitation of the planet to the economy of certain countries; 'Glide slope'; That shallow yet unstoppable dive, from the sky to the unforgiving ground. 

And here, I unleash my silly theory.

You recall that bubbly girl from college with the pretty face, ample bossom and perky... everythin else? Or that cute guy with the toned body, washboard Abs and timbre in his voice?

Then you caught up with them again after college, after a few years in corporate life. 

Should I be the first to admit the disappointment in how these exquisite creatures now seemed... well, less exquisite? 

Everything was still there. The bubbliness, the ampleness, the perky... everything else. But some how, they seemed to have peaked. The changes were subtle, but things were less perky, the washboard now seemed to have a rolled wet cloth folded over it and the ample was now better described as just 'big'. 

Basically, the spring had gotten a bit loose, less taut.

Why? Because I believe, the average age of a human being as dictated more by evolution, biology and peak form is actually about 24yrs of age. 

Sure, modern medicine and healthcare means we now live well past 70, but the human body can evolve only so quickly, and we still peak at about 24. After this time, we're on a glide slope towards our inevitable death. 

Put differently, until our mid twenties, our bodies and minds are still being formed. Then we become these perfectly crafted designs around mid twenties. Thereafter, those perfectly formed tissues so well wound, begin to unravel. Slowly at first, then increasingly fast. As described in my earlier post about 'brain damage', our minds start to move from their keen capability, sharp wit and abundant abstraction to a noisy, sputtering, smoking engine, grinding itself to its own eventually destruction (unless whatever fault line existing right at manufacture decides to kill us first) 

When you get closer to 30, you start looking at 21, 22 and 23yr olds and suddenly notice something you failed to appreciate when you were that age.

Let me not romanticize my recent youth. They aren't all attractive or even youthful, but by a large, the system is as freshly minted as it will ever be for that person. Then comes scratches, and the smell of 'new' is lost forever. 

Not to give validation to an 'okay' move, but like was said in 'Troy(2003)', 'We will never be as beautiful as we are now. We will never be here again' 

But before this appears like the rants of some early mid-life crisis, the point of this piece isn't to bemoan the loss of youth, but to celebrate life, even past that so-called well-oiled stage, especially since, sadly, culture, social-conditioning and tiresome patronizing by our academic system renders most of us at this most-productive age little more than mouths to feed , rather than the keen-minded, able-bodied übermensch we ought to be. 

As the 2nd half of the original title for '(Everyone is free to wear) Sunscreen' goes, 'Advice, like youth, often wasted on the youth'. 

The point of this piece therefore, is to acknowledge the phenomenon of an earlier peak than most may want to accept, and as per my initial illustration of the humble glider, to celebrate the 'glide slope' 

Yes, while your body and mind may have begun suffering from entropy, we should learn a thing or two from the skilled glider pilots, who managed to accomplish their mission and land their crafts precisely where it needed to go, when they entirely lacked an engine to do much more than guide their vehicle successfully in its inevitable crash landing. They didn't give up immediately they got into their cockpit because they were on a one-way trip, or get nostalgic about those moments when they were in tow, and could feel the engine of their escort aircraft. They accepted the inevitability of their destination, and flew in like bosses; or as bosslike as they could muster and some, such as those who landed on Pegasus bridge on the morning of June 6th 1944, got to carve their names and exploits into the annals of history.

After all, isn't that the point of life, even after our prime? Turning our inevitable mortality into a legacy for the ages, while deftly guiding these mortal vessels towards a smooth, gentle and inevitable landing. 

#10 WARNING: Natural gas deposits. Stay focused.

In your travels across this moonscape we call Life, you may wander into seemingly benign gas pockets that litter the landscape. These pockets are called 'Nostalgia', and they are in fact, a miasma. 

While you linger there, you will find yourself hallucinating about a past that never quite existed, abondoning a present staring you between the eyes and eventually forgetting entirly a future you owe yourself.

Eventually, you will get lathargic, lie down and go into a coma;  with what's left of your consciousness; a shrinking kernel in a dying husk, dreaming forever about 'the good old days'.

#9 Thank you most kindly

Tip from Hypothermia. When you're cold, do your darnedest to get warm. Don't create snow angels. 

I'm in Ghana. Which means I have to deal with the all-transcending crap from the moment I wake up, basting in my own sweat, deciding if to wait for the power to come back so I might work from home or travel to some friend's office to perch, knocking on wood that the taps will flow so I can have a half-decent bath, and don't get krokro from what does flow out at me; Then sitting in impact position while my bus driver (Having probably bought his license) hurtles like a comet across the next major intersection without working traffic lights, or crawls at a meter a minute through the round-about where for some mysterious reason, a squad of Police officers have decided to set up camp. 

Put differently, I live the wahala, breath the wahala, hear the wahala every waking moment. So pardon my pickiness in not wanting to have to read about it every day on some Social media rant also.

I find the trick to dealing with the uncertainty of this glide slope we're on; if you've not figured out some master plan to fix it, is really to whine LESS about it and get on with the business of surviving it, and perhaps surmounting it. Do that, and you might even find the calm in your mind to crack the code on how to fix it when you least expect it. I'm still stuck at tying certain Public figures to barrels blindfolded and when they expect the BANG BANG, bayoneting them instead, but I'm sure you may think of something more constructive if you let your mind wander.

By all means, get in on the discussion (I do). Find some creative outlet to express it. Frustration is often a better creative motivator than calm. Just quit whining in every post about it. It's tiresome to keep seeing that, even passively. 

No, you're not keeping it 'real'. Quite the opposite in fact. 

No, an open letter to Mahama on Facebook won't get read by the BNI and taking under advisement. 

If you haven't decided whether our dear President is a genius or moron by this time, you probably never will. So now won't be the best time to begin forming a thought in our presence. 

Yes, the shock of another surprise ECG cut ceased to be a shock (or a surprise) the 10th time around. So we really don't need to know how flummoxed you are about this one.

If you're not at step 9 of 10 in your coup de tat, please write your daily to-do list, find a calming playlist and hum it while putting one foot in front of the other. It's what most people do. 

I find the Patriots, if there is such a thing, aren't those ranting on Social media, pulling Facts, posts and Quotes out of the ass, trying to make situations, but those with the glazed 200 meter stare and stiff upper lip, who are acutely aware of how let down they have been by those supposed to govern them, but rather than assume the faetal position and bawl about it, wake up each day and calmly get on with the business of moving forward. 

#8 Brain damage

'Ever seen Mad Men? I love that series, and I never could place a finger on why until recently.

Something to do with struggling with the expectations of Society, specifically in gender roles, maturity and 'appropriate behavior'. 

The Main character embodies the ideal male as was expected in 1950s and early '60s America, with his career in advertising acting as a loudspeaker for these subtle themes - the idea of 'ideal male' is being brought back in the 2000s, as per Society's tendency to romanticize everything in about 30yr gaps. From fashion, to music to Societal norms. 

I was specifically fascinated with Mad Men because I believed I could never stay in character, being the mature alfa male that is smooth and just knows how to act in various situations.

Probably the same reason I find classic actor, Cary Grant so interesting. 

But this leads me to examine what exactly constitutes being mature. At what age do we stop being silly guys and girls and transition into Men and women? And what defines that? Is there a list? Or just a societal feeling about who is and who isn't mature? 

One notable aspect I accept tends to be a confidence and seeming lack of self awareness my 30yr old self has compared to early 20 year old Yaw, who would have been ever conscious of (or imagined) the entire world staring at him every waking moment. I remember getting up in church or in some packed auditorium and making my way down the isles, past what felt like a million eyes boring holes into the side of my face, right outside my peripheral vision? Well, that was mostly all in my mind, but could I honestly convince myself of this? Did it make me any less conscious of every crease in my clothes, twitch in my face or bead of sweat on my brow? Nope. I was still a relatively new mass of nerve endings and every inch of me was alight with feedback, real or imagined. 

I used to wonder about that? Why I suddently stopped being this self conscious puddle of insecurities and realized (more than decided) by some point that I couldn't give two shits about what people thought about my mannerisms, my interests or much else. 

Don't get me wrong. I still care - a lot. But it feels like a large chunk of my brain went numb at some point, and I simply decided to operate with less focus on the constant reference to societal expectations. Something I'm guessing many people start doing from their late teens, right after their hormones start leveling off. 

Again, late bloomer here. 

More interesting to me however, is the many things I wasn't expecting. Why I became more of a creature of habit than was the case in the past, for instance. I used to struggle with daily routine. Just the fact that Tuesday looked anything like Monday was depressing. Now, I find comfort in it. 

I've notice my mates have  swung from being either undeclared in Faith, having a 'personal relationship' with their maker (Which usually means 'None of anyone elses goddamn business') or being Charismatic Christians to becoming either clear agnostics, Non-denominational Christians or atheists in less than a decade, and chances they will remain what they are for a good while, if not for life. What's interesting about this is how unpredictable some of these swings are. Like the number of them who were once so mischievous in primary or high school hits 26, 27 and are now thanking God for everything on Facebook, Twitter and in person. Simple Choice and Free will? Hypocrisy? Or a simplification of their otherwise unpredictable path.

I'm inclined to think the latter. 

I was told once that it had to do with realizing that such things don't matter, and experience teaching us to focus on what's important.

I'm not sure about all that; 'Experience'. Sounds like self-importance and ageism frankly. And it doesn't properly explain why older people tend to be more stuck in their ways and have difficulty changing their habits.

So here's my theory. 

It's one that came to me because I like to draw parallels between human beings and computers.

Imagine the processor was a brain, and certain advanced computer processors (Core i7 for instance) have a failsafe where, when a few transistors on them are burned or damaged, they switch into a more efficient mode that allows them to operate with fewer parts working. They focus on key processes. They slow down. They adapt to become more efficient as a means of surviving what is in actuality a handicap. 

Perhaps the same is true for human beings. What we consider 'experience' and 'maturity' is in actuality, our biological processor merely becoming more efficient as we wear out our mental faculties. 

It's not that we consciously WANT to be mature, or care less about things, but we simply get numb, more focused, more likely to consider when, how and if we need to expend brain energy before doing so.

Which is why at 30, I am less likely to come up with brand new theories about everything and stick to theories I already developed or that already exist. It's not because I have become wiser and so I've begun going with what works, but because my mind simply can't churn out abstact concepts at my say so. 

Our brain is already begining to forget the pigment of one in about a million hairs being sprouted on our heads. Is it unreasonable to assume that a complex self-preserving system with 200 million years of evolved history simply adapts to what in essence is gradual brain damge? And that, perhaps we tried to explain this phenomenon, conveniently, in favor of the 'wise old men' making sense of everything.

#7 How about NOT being so polite this morning.

I was going to write about the subtle difference between self-consciousness as a teen or early Twenty something year old and the lack of this as a 30 something year old. But I'll leave that for a later day. 

Then I was going to write about learning to keep my emotions in check while appearing as though I'm not keeping my emotions in check,  But I'm not sure there's enough to make a decent lengh post for that. 

Instead I'd simply illustrate a result of both with a situation that occured earlier today.

And while I'm doing that, I'd find a not-so depressing way of sneaking ECG (the so-called, Electricity company of Ghana) into at least one post of mine. Or people might think I don't live in Ghana. 

The silver lining in having an ECG that screws up as bad as it does, is the fact that we now have a point of reference when you need to explain to a service provider with 'technical diffficulties' the difference between an 'Act of God' and an 'Unpardonable fug-up' 

Take today for instance.

I get into the bank to cash a cheque. Now, saying I DETEST banks in Ghana would as much an understatement as saying the Rwandan genocide was 'a bit of bad business' 

So we get in there, and my partner on the project had to be at some version of an STC station by 10 (This station closes at 12 or something). The cheque needed a screenshot of my invoice (Auditing), and I needed to give them a name to call at their Labone branch  in case things went south with that. So much for the internet and the so-called centralized banking shtick. 

That got done, and I was told to take a seat -- which I did... for an HOUR. Within this time, I joined the line several times to find out what the hold up was. 

Now, in my personal opinion, unless you're processing payroll for a small country or doing bank clearing after a particular busy day, I can't see why any banking process (void of human diddling) should take close to that long. 

The standard answer I kept getting was, "Please be patient. It's in the system", what ever the fug that means.

Finally, I decided to try a well-tested system I have but rarely use; Making a scene. 

The thing is, Ghanaians, being Ghanaians (i.e. pusillanimous in nature, by balance of probability) don't like scenes. Especially the oh-so-cultured Ghanaian staff of banking halls. 

So much so, they may be tempted to sort you out real quick if you ever did such a thing.

My partner was antsy. He might miss his next appointment. There were serious cost implications. And the cause of his problems was sitting on her chubby behind laughing at some joke her fellow teller was making. 

That can't be right. 

I could go with the standard process of explaining the problem REALLY loud, but this is a subtle art. A wrong turn could have the security usher you out. And I'm kinda rusty at the subtlety thing. 

So I went straight for the jugular. 

It begun with, "You know you're starting to operate like ECG, right?".

I said this at the rather boorish distance of 15m, ensuring the teller could hear me; as could every customer between where I stood and where she sat. And since I'm no expert with throwing my voice, so could her boss a few feet behind her. 

He cut a dashing figure in his tailor-made gray suit. I hadn't taken a bath yet (Don't judge), and my shirt had creases and a grease stain from the last time I wore it (Ok, that you can judge, but don't milk it)

Seated, I estimated his height at about 6 ft, and he was quite solidly built. With that, and the good 7inches he had over me, things could go differently, if he chose to use it. But would he? This was after all, the variable in my strategy. 

He did a spasmodic half-turn and back again as he heard my comment, deciding (in typical pusillanimous fashion) to act like he hadn't heard, in case things went really raw. Instead, he focused intently on his screen, as though he were keeping his computer from flying off his desk through telekinesis. 

It took me about a second to decide that there would be no cavalry coming. So emboldened, I took a step forward, drawing for the prey a vivid comparison between my waiting for an indefinite amount of time for service with waiting for ECG after 12 (Or is that 24 hours?) in darkness. 

Ah, she got that, immediately. Of course she did! More importantly, so did everyone else is ear shot, which was pretty much everyone in the banking hall. 

Suffice to say my cheque was cashed in 30 seconds flat (Well, one hour and 30seconds, and who is counting?).  The money handed over with envelope, my ID and a courtesy glare of unspeakable death, that I hear is supposed to causes cancer or something. 

My partner will make the 12 middy deadline, and I have a new, albeit crude tool added to my repertoire. 

Now I'm not a picky person, but it begs the question; Is this REALLY what needs to be done to get decent service in Accra?

#6 Fake it until you make it.

When I was young, I was made to come to terms with the difference between whatever wealth my parents had (or didn't have) and that which I had myself (Which until college, was exactly zero cedis). In deed, my lifestyle somewhat bellied what my parents could have given me if they had been trying to keep up with Joneses, as many were doing. 

Among the many benefits of this education was my acute appreciation for the difference between being rich, and being well-to-do.

But let me get some concerns out of the way. A; Rich is an easier classification and well-to-do is a mouthful (I should know. It's a pain just to keep typing) and B; what defines 'well-to-do'?

The answer? Nothing. Which is precisely why I prefer this term.
Forbes has a clear definition for Rich. 'Well-to-do' however is vague, as it should be. Because honestly, how many self-respecting folks can actually classify themselves as anything if they aren't clearly rich or poor without being subjective?

For years, I kept hearing mates of mine talking about how 'rich' their parents were... Or rather how 'rich' they; the children, were (By sheer proximity, I'd imagine).

Interestingly, I run into these mates years later, and I'm still yet to find one that ended up living as rich as they apparently were as kids... Hard times, I suppose?

Oddly enough, an aspect that I never connected until fairly recently was this...

You may get the guy with the expensive car looking sharp when he's out and about. But balance of probability would have him find his way to his ma and pa's garage at the end of each day; as opposed to the mansion that his lifestyle implies ought to exist some place.

For the rest, it's a good ol' Home used sedan (if that), a rented flat, chosen more for utility than preference, and a job he needs to keep attending if he expects to remain in the black at the end of each month.

It's sort of the opportunity cost of investing in products versus investing in marketing. It's really not as cut and dry as hippies would have you think, when or whether you'd be better off putting your money in look or putting your money in substance.

But because of this illusion, it took me a while to distinguish the difference between 'Swag' and 'actual worth' of people -- Like a good while. So long in fact that I was under the impression most people my age were doing 'so well for themselves' that I was a complete failure by comparison.

To be fair, I've recently come to understand that in the business world, it's better  to be descrete about any sense of your personal worth, as this may go a long way to affect how much clients and consumers are willing to pay for your products or services. A good friend aptly put it this way, "Fake it until you make it". 
And boy, aren't we all some fake mother****ers? 

Late a realization as it may have been for me, appreciating the (often massive) chasm between everyone elses' swag and their actual worth offered for me, an interesting alternative to convincing myself that I was immune to Society's simplistic notions of success. 

Specifically because the former contains considerably less bullshit than the latter.