Gbedu Pick
Jah Jah Knows — Omah Lay

Idan’s Musings
”You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have.” — Unknown

After 2020, I taught myself, or rather life taught me, not to worry about the future. Safe to say, in the midst of it all, I’ve been doing okay in that regard.

Then the next question is, how did I fail myself? If you’re asking that, good. If not, well, you’ve got to read anyway.

I failed myself because, for a while now, I’ve been battling the feeling that I’m always thinking about the destination before I’ve even started the journey. The funny thing is, I hate thinking because my thoughts spiral. Sometimes they go to scary places, sometimes dark ones, and sometimes good ones too. I love my daydreaming. But that’s not what I mean here. I mean I spend a lot of time wanting to know how things end, wanting to make the right decision, wanting to make sure people are okay, wanting to make sure nothing blows up in the end.

I realized it wasn’t really about understanding things. It was about wanting them to end on terms I could live with. Preferably good ones. And whenever I sensed they might not, fear would quietly take over. It would convince me that if I just thought a little harder, planned a little better, or understood people a little more, maybe I could influence the ending. Sometimes it helped. But more often than not, the more I tried to protect the outcome, the less present I became for the journey. And somewhere along the way, fear stopped protecting me and started getting in my way, nudging things toward the very ending I was trying to avoid.

For someone who wants to actually live, live, and die empty, that’s a problem. Worrying, or trying to negotiate with uncertainty, is still a way of holding on. It means I’m not letting myself simply be. In reality, I know life is more about the journey than the destination. I think that’s one of the few things I’m certain of. Yet, in my head, I keep skipping ahead. I’m already thinking about where this ends, whether it’s safe, whether it’ll work out, whether it’ll hurt. I spend so much time trying to protect the destination that I sometimes forget the journey is the only place life actually happens.

I wouldn’t call myself an overthinker because I don’t think I do this with everything, or with everyone. It usually happens when there’s a real fear that something might not end well. A lot of times, it’s a blessing. A lot of times, it’s a curse. I think, at its core, it comes from wanting to make decisions logically, and sometimes objectively. But somewhere along the line, I forget that we’re all just mistake-prone humans. Not every decision has a perfect chain of logic behind it. Sometimes people simply choose. Sometimes they’re wrong. Sometimes I am too.

I used to be the same with failure, especially when it came to startups. But because, by design, I was set out to be a builder, I had to face it. I had to fail, learn from it, and keep building. Here I am now, better for it. Maybe it’s the same with a lot of other things too. You don’t think your way through them. You live through them.

Fireboy sang, “Loving you is letting go.” Let’s take it to mean loving yourself is letting yourself go too. Letting yourself experience people, experience life, and experience yourself, knowing that not everything will end the way you hoped, and that’s okay.

I actually believe life is more about the journey than the destination. Maybe that’s why I’ve been trying to write about it for so long. I don’t think I have all the pieces yet, but when they finally come together, I’ll write about it.

Till next time, friends,
Let go,
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Heaven in your eyes — Tyrone Graham

Idan’s Musings
“Own your story." — Brené Brown

What if we’ve been measuring the value of our stories by the wrong thing?

We have a habit of treating “forever” like the only happy ending.

I wonder how many beautiful stories we’ve quietly diminished simply because they didn’t become permanent. Maybe that’s why we struggle to appreciate things as they are. We’re so busy wondering whether they’ll last that we forget to ask whether they’re beautiful now.

We spend so much of our lives believing permanence is what gives something value. That if something doesn’t become “forever,” it somehow becomes less meaningful.

I don’t think that’s true anymore.

Some connections are beautiful simply because they exist as they are. Not every feeling has to become a relationship, and not every relationship has to last a lifetime to leave its mark.

It’s why this poem is one of my all-time faves, and today, I’ll share it with you all.

I knew from the beginning that we were never going to be that story. But somehow, that never made me want to know her any less. It only made me appreciate what we did have: the conversations, the laughter, the quiet moments. They didn’t need the promise of forever to be meaningful, to be beautiful.

So I wrote this.

I’m in love with an angel who makes my mind wander,
Her voice, a nightingale singing to my soul,
A sacred calm that cuts through the world’s noise.
Yet it’s more than her melody; it’s the warmth deep within.

I’m in love with an angel, quiet and shy,
She blushes as she sees the fire in my eyes,
While I laugh softly, watching the color
Rush to warm her cheeks.

I knew the end from the very beginning,
Yet I still chose to embrace her warmth.
She loved my charm, and we surrendered our all
To a love, and to memories,
Forever safely stored in our hearts.

Maybe in another life,
Maybe at another time,
You’ll be mine for a lifetime.
But today, I’m in love with an angel
Who can never be mine.

—An Angel For Another Lifetime

Maybe we’re so busy wondering whether something will last that we forget to notice that it’s here.

Maybe that’s true of people.

Maybe it’s true of places we’ll one day leave. Dreams we’ll outgrow. Versions of ourselves we’ll eventually become strangers to. Entire seasons of life we’ll never get back.

Maybe it’s even true of life itself.

Nothing here was ever promised forever. Not the people we love. Not the places we call home. Not the dreams we chase. Not even us.

Maybe we’ve been asking the wrong question all along.

Not, Will this last forever?

But, Did I truly live it while it was here?

Till next time, friends,
Stop wondering.
AceOluwapelumi ✨

Gbedu Pick
Telepepe — Falze

Idan’s Musings
”Deal with the big while it is still small.” — Lao Tzu

We are taught to choose a lane, pick a title, and stay there. But definitions have always felt like cages to me. Society treats identity like a solid, unyielding object, but I’ve always felt entirely fluid.

My primary school teachers only had a few words to describe me: brilliant, intelligent, playful, and stubborn. I think my primary four teacher genuinely couldn't understand how someone could be intelligent and be the most frustrating student in the class at the same time.

In secondary school, I loved reading books but hated writing. That lasted until my poor attempts to write rap lyrics in SS3.

One afternoon in one lecture theatre, waiting for my next class or so, I read a poem, and something told me I could write better. What I wrote right after was poor, but well, I'm writing better now. I was a part one student of OAU then.

A year before that, I started learning how to code (web dev), only to enter the uni and decide to learn entirely different skills (game dev). Some of those I dropped even after earning from them (product design, blockchain development), and some I'm still doing alongside the ones I've picked up since (mobile dev).

I even started taking nature photographs with a friend’s phone before I owned a phone that could actually shoot. Typing this, I realise I've been actively collecting memories since 2015, back when I was still a teen. I guess it's why I'm still a hobbyist photographer.

I cannot forget the surprise on most of my university colleagues' faces when they saw an otherwise techy, stay-in-his-lane Debug'd MCing our final-year trad. I’ve gone on to MC more than a couple of church, then friends’ and family events after that.

Same thing when I replaced the DJ at the spontaneous sign-out party in New Market and started spinning on the wheels like I was born to do it. What they didn't know was that I did that briefly right after secondary school. Before hosting my own ticketed events, the role of hosting and organising always somehow fell on me. And I have never missed. Ask the Ilumoyes, ask The Pod.

When I finally realized what it was, I stopped trying to box myself in. I just do things because I can. I think anything is learnable if I want to learn it, and it's the same reason I'll pick up drawing and painting whenever I'm ready. 5,000 hours later, I'll have showroom-worthy art.

I've realised one thing above all: my reason for being here is to travel and see the beautiful world. And most importantly, to pour into the world until there's nothing left to pour. It’s to die empty. Because how do you box something that was meant to be poured?

This is just my perspective, though. Some people like the labels and the defined roles, and they are the absolute best at what they choose to do. I like those too. My point here isn’t about how you choose to operate. The point is that whatever side of the divide you fall into, you should ensure you die empty.

Do not leave this earth with your potential locked inside you. Pour all you have into your craft, your people, your art, and your projects. Give it everything until there is nothing left.

Leave here an empty box.

That’s it for now, frens.
Keep pouring,
Ace

I’ve always liked wines, since I knew what they were. I liked what they represent even before I could afford to buy the common ones. From afar, they represented a reward—something you drink when you’ve done something or achieved something. They represent convenience, or just doing okay. They represent history, and for me, time. Some wines are older than me, so it’s literal history. And yeah, some represent luxury. The taste, the notes, and the smell too.

But this letter is not about wines.

Some time ago, two of my friends came around, and one of them was going through my wine cabinet and noticed that some of them were beginning to expire or had approaching expiry dates. This was interesting and surprising. Why?

When I moved to Lagos, I had a small wine cabinet made in my kitchen, and I loved stocking it up. In fact, having it stacked made me happy. I don’t actually drink them regularly—just occasionally—but the occasion comes whenever it wishes or when I have guests around or hangouts at Aceville. Every month after collecting my salary, I looked forward to that trip to the stores to buy new ones. Something different from what I had, so I could try new things.

Both times I’ve left the country on vacation, I’ve brought at least one wine back. The last time, my friends and I were skeptical because it could break in my luggage with how airlines treat bags sometimes. I risked it, and it didn’t break. I remember the ones I got in Ghana, one sweet one and one sour one. Bruh, I no want agbo jedi, abeg. I said it tasted like bitter life experiences; I opened the white wine instead. The sour one was amongst the ones I had to discard.

The last Monday in May will mark a year since I stopped earning a salary. After a while, I stopped visiting my wine gallery because I could no longer restock the way I wanted to. Priorities, man. And I still wanted to keep my cabinet full.

Back to the present. That day, I had to discard some of the opened wines, including the bitter one from Ghana. If you know your wines, you know the quality starts reducing the moment you open them.

Writing this, I know that most unopened wines stay good for 1 to 5 years past the printed expiration date or vintage (also, fine wines designed for ageing can last 10 to 20+ years if stored in a professional cellar), I decided to keep the one that was to expire very soon. I opened it this week.

But that day, it didn’t occur to me. What occurred to me was that because I knew I wouldn’t be able to replace them, I just stopped drinking them, even some that I probably had since God knows when. I realised that I was so focused on what I didn’t have that I didn’t even enjoy what I had.

If they weren’t wines and had all expired, that’s how I’d have lost both ways. I’d have to discard them and still wouldn’t be able to replace them. Looking at it broadly, I see the bigger pattern of me being too focused on the bigger picture while forgetting to acknowledge and adore the image right in front of me.

I hit on a big human trap: the preservation paradox. We save things, experiences, milestones, and physical items because we value them so highly, but we refuse to consume them until that very perfect moment. But by doing that, we end up letting them spoil—literally, emotionally, or any other -ly. The perfect moment sometimes never arrives because we are already in it. We treat our lives like a museum when they’re meant to be lived. The memories are what belong to the museum. How do we put them there when we don’t live them?

So, tonight, after dishing some rice for myself, I opened the fridge and served myself a reasonable quantity of the one I opened earlier this week. I finished my meal, then I was sipping wine while watching Blaqbonez & Asake’s Channel’s music video.

The future is just a collection of present moments that haven’t happened yet. If you don’t learn to enjoy the glass in front of you today, you won’t magically know how to enjoy the cabinet you build tomorrow.

And maybe that’s the real thing I’m learning lately. To enjoy the future well, you have to learn how to enjoy the present too.

Till next time, frens,
Sip your wines.
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Minefields — Faouzia & John Legend

Idan’s Musings
”Without noticing we’re doing it, we treat the future as intrinsically more valuable than the present. And yet the future never seems to arrive.” — Oliver Burkeman

Hey frens,

Been a while since I wrote about music, so let me tell you about the new music I’ve been enjoying recently. Mr Money is about to release his madly anticipated album, so before he takes over everywhere, let’s do this.

For the earliest part of this year, I’ve not been feeling most releases. In fact, I didn’t pay attention to a lot of drops because things were a bit low. But I think things are beginning to pick up, so I’m finally excited to write and share the gbedus that got me hooked.

And abeg, I’ve listened to like three new Olamide features in three weeks, and he has another one with Teni dropping tomorrow. Who that egbon dey owe? Anyways, bring it. I need them all.

1. Colorado — Johnny Drille, Ayra Starr & Young Jonn
Believe me, from the intro you’d know this is going to be a sweet, sweet song. Johnny Drille’s handoff to Ayra Starr was too smooth, and if you think that one was good, wait for her handoff to Young Jonn. I’ve played this song more times than I can recollect. The chemistry was one I didn’t see coming, but they killed it. At some point I was like, why Colorado? but it is what it is. “No be by who buy benz.” If I had to pick, Ayra for the win here. Gutted that Young Jonn had a shorter verse though.

2. Ara — Bella Shmurda ft. Olamide
I heard the trumpet and I knew this was going to be a jam I’d enjoy. It picks up right from where their last collab left off. Here, they’re telling God to do with them as He pleases. And Baddo’s verse… yeah, I enjoyed it, especially the closing lines.

3. Worship — Asake & DJ Smoke
We knew this was going to be a jam from when Asake performed the unreleased version at Red Bull’s concert last year. I remember me and two of my guys arguing that he should have added another verse, we preferred that version. Nonetheless, this is still a bop about gratitude.

4. Big Bum Bum — Kidd Carder & Mavo
Don’t let my grandma see this title. Very catchy song. Even though the beat drops at 0:56, it already had me humming along. I didn’t pay attention to it at first, but it’s hard to ignore.

5. I AM — Omah Lay
Maybe Omah Lay’s superpower is how he makes melody out of seemingly simple lines. I AM is a declaration of self, like “I am Him.” Melodious, with good replay value.

6. Don’t Love Me — Omah Lay
This one leans into that afro-depression angle. I guess the prayers of those who don’t want Omah Lay to heal were answered. It’s relatable in a way. He makes his intentions clear and just goes from there.

7. Turbulence — Wizkid & Asake
Soft vibe. Groovy. You can hear both of them float on the beat. This is my most played song on the REAL joint EP. That song for relaxation.

8. Formation — Adekunle Gold & Olamide
This one was long overdue. Hard to believe they hadn’t been on a song together before. I was even surprised there was no Olamide feature on the Fuji album. I knew Baddo would kill it. It’s here now, and it didn’t fall short.

9. Paparazzi — Shoday & Fola
Another one I didn’t pay attention to at first that turned out to be a bop. Good music doesn’t actually need permission to enter your soul.

10. Idi Bad — Kcee ft. Olamide
Been a while since we had this type of bop. Proper Afrobeats, reminiscent of those 2015–2017 tunes. And Olamide’s verse here is as groovy as you’d expect. I’ll definitely be replaying this. Missed this version of Baddo.

I hope to write more about music this year, fingers crossed.

Oh, and by the way, I’m working on a site that makes you do side quests as you live life. You get points for completing side quests and you go up on the leaderboard. Be a part of the early users; check it out at Citiquest.

Enjoy good music, frens.
Till next time,
Ace

Gbedu Pick
Turbulence — Wizkid & Asake

Idan’s Musings
Sometimes it is not enough to do our best; we must do what is required.” —Winston Churchill

What you are about to read is one of my shower thoughts. I was in the bathroom getting ready for my walk when it hit me. So, walk with me…

It started with a mistake I made earlier, and how humbling it is when you realize it in real time. Not hours later when you replay it in your head, but right there while it’s happening. There’s nowhere to hide in that moment, just you and the realization.

But my mind didn’t stay on the mistake for long. It drifted to the odds.

The odds of being here at all. This breath. This name. This life. I won that without even knowing there was a battle happening.

And if that’s true, maybe the future doesn’t deserve all the weight we give it. Maybe life is less of a perfect blueprint and more like a child figuring things out while playing. Simple. Hopeful. A little messy. Still moving forward.

Maybe that’s what Kòsí ìfọ̀yà means to me. Not bravado, just the quiet refusal to panic inside uncertainty.

Because when I think about it long enough, one line always comes back to me: The Lord is my shepherd, and I have everything I need. So why panic?

Earlier today I thought about how learning from a mistake while it’s happening is such a humbling thing. There’s nowhere to hide in that moment. But maybe the real gift is that you’re still here to try again.

Then my mind went to the odds.
What are the odds of being born, really?
I won that without knowing there was a battle at all.
If I survived that, what future battle could honestly be greater?
It’s funny how easy it is to forget.

Tonight I looked back to where it all began and then it hit me. The future doesn’t need to be this heavy, over engineered thing. Maybe it’s a child’s plan. Simple. Hopeful. A little messy. Still moving forward.

I feel fazed, but not shaken.
Uncertain, but not afraid. 

Kòsí Ifoya, ọmọ aṣẹ lon panic

Life doesn’t really matter like that…
but while it does, I want to enjoy it properly. On my terms.

And through all of it, I remember—
the Lord is my shepherd.
I already have what I need.

The one below is another version of it

Learning in real time
is the most honest kind of humility,
no rewind, no audience,
just you and the lesson
locking eyes.

What were the odds of this breath?
Of this name?
Of being born
and winning without knowing
there was a war at all?

I forget that sometimes.
Tonight, I remember.

So let the future feel like a child’s play
crayons instead of blueprints,
faith instead of fear.

Fazed,
but somehow still standing.
Life doesn’t weigh as much
when you stop gripping it too hard.

While I'm still here,
I’ll play. Always.
On my terms.
Kosi panic.

The Lord is my shepherd.
I lack nothing,
even when it feels like I do.

Till later frens,
No Panic.
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Awa Tunde Batinde — K1 De Ultimate

Idan’s Musings
“Love the life you live. Live the life you love.” — Bob Marley

Bias Is a Powerful Thing

Bias is such a powerful thing, and we all have it. No matter how objective we try to be. The best we can realistically do is try to recognize it and lean toward objectivity when we can.

The funny thing about bias is that most of the time we don’t even realize when it’s happening. It doesn’t feel like bias. It feels like we’re simply observing reality, when in truth, we’re already interpreting it. Our brains are constantly filtering what we see, what we remember, and what we choose to believe.

A simple way to understand this is something often called the red car theory, which is closely related to what psychologists call the Baader–Meinhof phenomenon. Once you notice something, you suddenly start seeing it everywhere. It’s not that the red cars suddenly appeared. They’ve always been there. Your brain just started paying attention. And once your mind begins looking for something, it becomes incredibly good at finding it.

Here is my favourite example: I’d never really paid attention to how many Hyundai Sonata cars there are in Lagos. Then a friend of mine got one in Ife. The very next day, I started seeing Sonatas everywhere. On the road, in traffic, or parked along streets. It almost felt like someone swapped most of the cars I’d always see around with Sonatas.

Of course, nothing actually changed. My brain simply started noticing what had always been there.

If you still doubt how much your brain filters reality, try this: your nose is literally in your line of sight right now. It has been the entire time you’ve been reading this. But you don’t see it unless you deliberately choose to focus on it.

Your brain decides what is worth paying attention to. Everything else quietly fades into the background.

Recently, I’ve noticed this play out in conversations around propaganda. Quite a lot of people have realized that Western propaganda exists. Which is fair. Propaganda absolutely exists and has existed for centuries. But what I’ve also seen is people swinging to the opposite extreme. Instead of carefully filtering information, they begin to distrust anything that comes from the West automatically. From propaganda straight into conspiracy.

Now I’m not saying some of these conspiracies aren’t true. Some might be. History has shown many times that governments, institutions, and powerful groups are more than capable of lying. But some of the things people run with are things you would easily question if you were approaching them objectively instead of already leaning toward a side.

Once the mind has chosen a side, it doesn’t really evaluate information anymore. It starts sorting it. Evidence that supports your side goes into the truth bucket, while evidence that challenges it gets dismissed, questioned, or ignored.

You see this everywhere. Men often lean toward the male perspective. Women often lean toward the female perspective. Which is natural. That’s just human nature. But when allegations of serious wrongdoing happen, that bias shouldn’t cloud the search for truth. Yet very often it does. Sometimes you can predict which side someone will take before they even hear the full story. The facts become secondary. Identity comes first.

Religion is another example. In the face of ambiguity, it’s understandable for people to lean toward their beliefs. Faith naturally shapes how people interpret the world. But I’ve seen religious people defend pastors or imams even when their stance on an issue is clearly flawed. At the same time, people who already dislike religion can be just as biased in the opposite direction. I’ve seen ambiguous statements by pastors taken out of context and turned into completely different narratives simply because people were already looking for something to criticize. At that point, the statement itself almost doesn’t even matter. The interpretation was decided before the words were spoken.

Music is another place where bias shows up clearly. When it comes to our favourite artists, sentiment often overrides objectivity.

For instance, I’m a big fan of Olamide, Fireboy, and Asake. As good as they are, they’ve had songs that weren’t their best. But because I already like them, I’d still enjoy it and vibe to it anyway. If another artist I’m not particularly a fan of released that same kind of song, I might listen once, but that would probably be the end of it.

The music didn’t change. My bias did.

And honestly, being biased isn’t the real problem. Bias is human. We all have preferences, loyalties, and instincts that shape how we see things.

The problem is when people pretend their bias is objectivity.

I see this a lot online. People present personal opinions as if they are established facts. A relative stance suddenly becomes an absolute one. Something that is clearly “how I feel about this” gets framed as “this is the truth.”

But facts don’t bend around our opinions, and they definitely don’t bend around our feelings.

If you’re biased, own it.

I actually have a friend who does this when it comes to music. If he doesn’t like an artist, he just doesn’t. It’s not always about the music. Sometimes he simply doesn’t like the person, and that’s the end of it.

From time to time we end up arguing about it. I’ll try to introduce nuance or point out something objectively good about the song, and he’ll shut it down immediately.

He’ll say, “I say I no like person, you dey explain to me? Ogbeni, carry your objectivity comot. I no like am.”

And honestly, I respect that more than someone pretending their personal preference is some universal truth.

At least he’s honest about his bias.

Bias makes us very good lawyers for the side we’ve already chosen.

When Your Mind Starts Looking for Evidence

There’s a quote that was circulating last year that said something along the lines of, "With enough bias, you’ll always find the narrative you’re looking for.” That’s confirmation bias in action. You don’t even have to consciously lie to yourself. Your brain will do the work for you. You’ll notice the evidence that supports what you already believe, and you’ll overlook the evidence that contradicts it.

The more you surround yourself with information that agrees with you, the more convinced you become that you’re simply seeing the truth. Meanwhile someone on the other side is doing the exact same thing, both of you convinced the other person is the one being manipulated.

And the uncomfortable truth is that sometimes, both of you are.

Maybe the real challenge isn’t eliminating bias entirely. That might not even be possible. Maybe the harder thing is simply recognizing when it might be happening, pausing for a moment, and asking yourself a question you probably don’t want to ask:

What if I’m the one missing something?

Till tomorrow frens,
Own your bias, at least.
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Iya Awele — Brymo

Idan’s Musings
“Spend more time smiling than frowning and more time praising than criticizing.” — Richard Branson

If we all know what we are doing, then how do we still make mistakes?

Sometimes it feels like, on one hand, people don’t make mistakes. Everything is intentional. Every wrong action must have been deliberate. But on the other hand, we ourselves are human. We do wrong things, make mistakes, and then say things like, “I’m genuinely sorry; it wasn’t intentional.”

So why do the rules suddenly stop applying to your friends, your partner, and the people around you?

Anytime I hear someone say “we all know what we’re doing,” it’s usually because someone wronged them and they’ve decided not to forgive or forget.

Am I saying people never know what they’re doing? No. I just refuse to see it as a blanket rule. Unless we’re comfortable being hypocrites.

What I believe in instead is checking the merits of each case. Looking at each situation and examining whether something could genuinely have been a mistake.

One of the things my dad always instilled in us was the decision not to assume. Always seek clarity. I could do the most stupid thing in this life, something clearly wrong, and depending on the situation, he might let me off with a warning. But let me wrongly assume something when I’m not sure; well, it will rain punishment.

People wrong us even while having good intentions. They say the wrong joke, make assumptions, or do something they thought was harmless that turned out to be bad. We do these things ourselves. But when it’s done to us, suddenly the rule changes. “If he said it, he meant it.” “If she did it, she meant it.”

Yes, people intentionally say mean things. People betray. People commit crimes and all sorts of things and still blame the devil. You could absolutely be a victim. But am I saying you should automatically assume they didn’t mean it? No. Again, treat each situation for what it is. Don’t assume. Ask, evaluate, and then reach a decision.

It’s also possible for someone to make a genuine mistake, notice that you didn’t react strongly, and then start pushing your limits intentionally. Treat case A differently, then see B and C for what they are, and react accordingly.

To every law, there is an exception. Even this one.

Something happened in the past with a friend who asked me if I don’t believe in second chances. While I hold myself to higher standards, I’m also very aware of my imperfections as a human. So how will I, someone prone to making mistakes or even playing too much sometimes, refuse to give second or even third chances?

Of course, it depends on the case, the person, and the situation. Most times I’m more likely to react the second time something happens, especially if we already spoke about the first and it repeats again. Even at that, there are still exceptions.

Because the truth is, no one has everything figured out.

Give people grace, but not the same amount of grace. Even God will reward us all according to our works.

Till next time,
Give people grace,
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Isaka II (6am) - CIZA ft Tems, Omah Lay, Thukuthela, Jazzworx

Idan’s Musings
“Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.” —Joseph Campbell

Why I Hate Circles

Most people know how much I hate stress, but what they probably don’t know is how much I hate circles.

And no, not the shape. Circles, the shape has done nothing to me.

I mean circles as a way of living.

Living in a circle, to me, means living in a fixed routine. Imagine you are like most people. You wake up, have breakfast, prepare to go to work, work all day, get back home to yourself or your family, and have dinner. And if you are living in Lagos, you’re probably already stressed by the time you get home, so you catch up on social media, and before you know it, you’re falling asleep while watching WhatsApp status or doomscrolling somewhere else.

On some Saturdays, you attend social functions, but on most Saturdays, you do laundry and put things in place for the new week. Sunday comes, you probably go to church, rest a bit, and by evening, someone is posting, “Tomorrow is Monday again 😩."

Rinse and repeat.

Now take a bigger example. You were born, then sent to school, and you do that all the way to university. After that, if you are Nigerian, you are expected to serve your country. Then you find work, start working, and suddenly every adult around you is reminding you to get married. Then the kids come, and those kids eventually repeat the same circle.

Well, since I was a teenager, I have always hated that. Which is why I’ve always tried to live a bit differently, doing things at my own pace and doing things beyond the usual script. Adventures, spontaneous trips, random plans. Now I’m adding something else to the mix.

Side quests.

The Problem With Living in a Loop

What happens when you don’t take side quests? You end up living like a circle, an infinite loop where the same things keep repeating until eventually you don’t even have the energy for them anymore.

When life starts to look like that, something else happens too. You slowly become boring. Your answer to the question “What have you been up to?” always ends with “nothing much”.

There’s a school of thought that opportunities tend to go to people who appear interesting. People who are doing things. People who have stories to tell. Invitations also tend to go to people who live life.

What Side Quests Actually Are

Side quests are not necessarily hobbies, although a hobby can come out of them. And they are definitely not the same thing as starting a regular commitment like a gym subscription.

A side quest is more like a one-off activity that disrupts your normal path. You do something you’ve never done before, change direction for a bit, then come back to your normal life. Think of it as a way of recharging your battery.

This is different from being spontaneous. You should plan them, have them in mind to do, and actually do them. Don’t do them like something you just want to tick off your to-do list. Do it with more intentionality.
Side quests can be very small things.

It could be taking a random day trip to another city just because you’ve never been there. Taking the train somewhere instead of driving. Going to a museum you’ve walked past a hundred times but never entered. Try pottery (I recommend), bowling, or a cooking class, even if you think you’ll be terrible at it.

It could be attending a live music show, joining a friend for a morning run, going hiking, visiting a cultural site in your own country, or even just exploring a neighbourhood you’ve never really walked through before.

Sometimes it’s as simple as saying yes to an invitation you would normally decline.

The point isn’t productivity. The point is stepping outside the usual loop of your life for a moment.

One of the earliest versions of this for me was the regular vacations my friends and I started doing.

It began very simply. One random day in January, Codee, Curlybraces, and I just said, “At the end of the year, let’s go and chill in Lagos.” We did, and it became a five-day vacation. Nothing fancy. Just an excuse to step out of our normal lives for a few days.

That was in 2022.

Since then, we’ve been to more than nine cities across Africa together. What started as a simple idea eventually became something we now call December Vibes with Ace and Friends, and the group has somehow grown into what people jokingly call the Ilumoye Squad.

But the side quests didn’t stop there.

In between those trips, we started doing smaller hangouts too. At some point, we took a train trip to Abeokuta just to see Olumo Rock and visit OOPL. Another time we took the train to Ibadan, ate Amala at Amala Skye, went on a boat cruise, and ended the day bowling.

None of these things were life-changing in some dramatic way, but every time we did them, it felt like we had stepped outside the loop for a bit.

Looking back, I realize a lot of the best memories I have didn’t come from big life milestones, and most of them came from side quests we almost didn’t plan.

Recently, I’ve even been thinking of expanding this idea further. I’m starting something new with my friend Tolulope called Hangout and Vibes with AceOluwapelumi and Tolu — basically an indoor games and hangout experience where people can show up, meet new people, play games, and just enjoy a different kind of social energy for a few hours.

In a way, it’s just another side quest. Only this time we’re inviting more people into it.

What NYSC Camp Taught Me

Side quests also help you discover things about yourself. They remind you that while life might sometimes feel meaningless, it’s also a very interesting place if you let yourself experience it.

Let me use NYSC camp as an example.

I was going through a lot when I went to camp in Mangu, Plateau State, the land of the cold. Before I left, I told myself one thing: I’m going to go to camp, make the best of it, and actually enjoy it. That decision quietly influenced almost every choice I made there.

Right from the start, I became involved. By day two, I was already helping my platoon officers register new corpers when I could easily have been sleeping. By day four, I joined the OBS unit as a camp photographer. Before the end of the week, my platoon officers nominated me as the social director of my platoon.

I marched for a while because I wanted to. I did drama. I wrote the article that had the best reception during parade mornings. I helped my platoon members get prizes in the debate competition. Even though I didn’t dance or play football or volleyball, I still managed to coordinate a meetup with graduates from my university.

I was involved in almost everything.

I interacted with more people during those weeks than I did during long stretches of my time as a student, and in many ways, I achieved the goal I had set for myself before going.

Then, in the second week, I spoke with a fellow alumnus from my school who was also at camp. She was having the worst time of her life there, complaining about everything. She eventually left before the end of the program.

For a moment, it honestly felt like we had been in two completely different camps.

But we were in the same platoon.

Life Is Bigger Than One Thing

Most of us pick one thing we are good at and ignore the rest of life. A football fan who ends up with just football and never goes to parties or functions. Or someone who loves parties but won’t go anywhere unless it’s that kind of environment.

But who says we can’t do many things?

You can be an introvert and still enjoy travelling.

Saying Yes

For a lot of people, once they don’t immediately see the point of an activity, they reject the invitation. But embracing this lifestyle means learning to say yes a little more.

Go to that dinner. Go on that run with your friends. Just do things. If it makes you smile, it’s not pointless.

If you live in Nigeria, you might even need this mindset more than most people. Nigeria has a way of draining you. Sometimes it genuinely feels like the country is trying to suck the life out of you, and every day you’re being fed a cocktail of problems and stress.

So sometimes you have to insist on living anyway.

Remember Being Curious

When we were kids, we were curious about everything. You wanted to know how electricity worked, so you almost put your finger in the socket. You’d see kids dragging the TV across the room or doing things that make their parents scream.

Which explains why, as kids, we had fewer than five natural phobias. Most other fears are learnt as we grow older.

So the real question becomes this.

Why do we grow up and lose that curiosity? That childlike wonder that made everything feel worth exploring?

Maybe side quests are just a way of bringing a little of it back.

A small way of stepping outside the circle now and then.

Because if you’re not careful, life quietly turns into a loop.

And I really hate circles.

Say yes more.

Start a side quest.

Or at the very least, say yes to my hangout.

Side note: I’ve decided to write every day for the next 30 days. Mostly short reflections like this. Think of it as a personal writing side quest.

Till tomorrow, guys.
Plan your side quests.
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Rules of Life — Harteez

Idan’s Musings
”What the caterpillar calls the end, the rest of the world calls a butterfly.” — Lao Tzu

There was a time when the world believed the Earth was flat.

In 1918, the Spanish Flu claimed around 25 to 50 million lives. Eight years ago, I was taught why malaria, caused by Plasmodium, had no vaccine despite existing for decades. Centuries ago, the idea of a plane seemed crazy.

I can go on and on.

Today, we know the Earth is not flat and that it exists within a vast universe. The flu is treatable. There is now a malaria vaccine. We do not just have planes; we have rockets and missiles that travel faster than one can read this.

What stands out to me is not just the progress, but how certain people must have felt in those earlier moments. I mean, Galileo Galilei was punished by the Roman Catholic Church, specifically the Roman Inquisition under Pope Urban VIII in 1633, for heresy because he supported the heliocentric model. He was found “vehemently suspect of heresy,” forced to recant his views, and sentenced to house arrest for the rest of his life.

Imagine being punished because you said the Earth moves around the Sun.

Imagine having to publicly deny something you were convinced was true.

And imagine the people condemning him. They were not cartoon villains. They genuinely believed they were protecting the truth.

That’s what makes it unsettling. Both sides felt certain. One was just closer to the next edge of understanding.

History does that. It reminds you that certainty feels the same on both sides of truth.

And it makes me wonder what we are sure about today that time will quietly correct.

That is exactly what humbles me.

We live in a world full of unknowns, yet we are confined by what we currently know. Knowledge feels concrete, so we mistake it for completeness.

But history keeps moving the edge.

Reality does not shrink to fit our understanding of it. Our understanding just stretches, slowly, into what has always existed.

Life can seem finite and absolute from where we stand.

But perspective is always shaped by time.

—

Some days ago, I saw something about the origin of zero.

It’s strange when you think about it.

Someone had to invent “nothing.”

Babylonians had a placeholder thousands of years ago. Just to show empty space. But Brahmagupta from India was the first to treat zero as a number. He defined things like n - 0 = n. He was wrong about division, but still.

In the 9th century, Al-Khwarizmi helped integrate zero into the numeral system. Then Fibonacci encountered it in North Africa and introduced it to Europe in 1202 through Liber Abaci.

Zero spread slowly.

Today it feels obvious.

But without zero, there’s no calculus. No advanced physics. No binary code. No digital age. No internet.

Everything built on nothing.

And at some point, zero probably sounded unnecessary.

Maybe even wrong.

The Earth wasn’t flat.

Disease wasn’t unbeatable.

Flying wasn’t impossible.

Nothing wasn’t nothing.

Every generation lives at the edge of what it knows.

And from that edge, everything feels settled.

Until it doesn’t.

Well guys,
Until the next musing from a wandering mind,
Stay humble.
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Another Love — Tom Odell

Idan’s Musings
“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?” —Vincent van Gogh

Last night, I took a stroll for more than 90 minutes. It was my longest one this year.

Earlier this year, I decided I wasn’t going to let one aspect of my life negatively affect the other. It’s now the 30th of January, and the fact that this is only my second newsletter is evidence enough that I’m currently failing at that. I haven’t posted any pictures on the Pixels_by_ace IG page yet, and the same goes for my newsletter’s Instagram. I haven’t exactly recorded much work-related content, nor have I posted non-work-related content either, amongst so many other things.

I knew how busy this year was going to be before making that declaration, but I made it anyway. I’ll try my hardest to keep my word; I will find a rhythm. I don’t think things are going to get any less busy, especially since I’ve added even more books to read and skills to learn, and this was in addition to the extra things I will be taking on this year, but I will make it work. It’s why, after remembering I have a newsletter and the month is ending soon, I sat down to write this against all bugs—or sorry, all odds. I hope you’re making it work, too.

On finding a rhythm, I genuinely think we should push ourselves into it. The world is a malleable place; it bends to your will, but you gotta have the will first. It’s why I’m going to push beyond my limits. What if they are elastic? If I break, I can then say I reached my limit. But until then, I push.

This was the same thinking that made me remove my T-shirt, sitting in only a singlet to face the cold wind straight coming from the window during our bus journey from Mombasa to our destination—a ride that lasted over six hours. I did have to put my shirt back on at some point, but I discovered just how much cold I could sustain for hours. I was proud of myself, even though when we alighted, I felt the cold more than everyone with my light T-shirt. It probably sounds stupid, but it makes sense to me.

In one of my “alone with my thoughts” moments while bathing last night, a thought flashed through my mind that I think work birthed: “Learning from a mistake in real-time is such a humbling thing.” It’s self-explanatory. But while taking my stroll later, I added the second part: “But maybe the real gift is that you’re still here to try again.” We all know that some mistakes can be, well, deadly. Even the ones that aren’t can be hard to move on from and impossible to forget.

For the most part, I try to worry less, but I still find myself anxious about how certain things might turn out in the future. There is room for learning there, too. The present is yours to live. The future has too many variables and, unfortunately, you don’t control it. Always do good and do your best, though.

“The Lord is my shepherd” is such an interesting verse, and I saw it in a new light this week. I mean, if the Lord is my shepherd and He says I shall not want, then I just gotta believe Him and walk in that realization. I think if you are a Christian, it should be the same for you too. Oh, and you gotta do your part too.

I think I’ve written before about how life was simpler as kids. By default, we learned to trust our parents or guardians even if things weren’t rosy. We couldn’t understand the struggle. We just cried, ate, disturbed everyone, handled our business, and repeated the cycle. The real “vibes and Insha’Allah.”

Even as we grew older, we fought over meaningless things like being called “American dusting powder.” I also recently learned that, as kids, we inherited most of the things we now fear. Only a few phobias, like the fear of heights, are natural. Others you learn the hard way or, more often, from the reactions of the people around you. I want that “nothing is going to happen” attitude back, rebranded as: “What’s the worst that can happen?” I want to jump into the Indian Ocean even if I can’t swim. Just get me a floater.

This week, I rediscovered Gregorian chants. An hour ago, “Join Me” by Gregorian would have been my song of the week, but then I stumbled upon Tom Odell’s “Another Love.” I couldn’t believe I’d never really listened to a song that good, especially since it has over 2.5 billion streams. You guys did me dirty by not telling me. But I’ve found it now, so we move.

Finally, writing and journaling are good for the soul. I’m going to try to make journaling a core part of my life from now on. Writing is a powerful way to release things you didn’t even know you were carrying. You don’t have to write for an audience. Just write for yourself, even if you never read it again.

And if you’re looking for a secure, private app for journaling, check out Routin via myroutin.app and thank me by recommending it to others.

Earlier today I thought about how learning from a mistake while it’s happening is such a humbling thing. There’s nowhere to hide in that moment. But maybe the real gift is that you’re still here to try again.

Then my mind went to the odds.
What are the odds of being born, really?
I won that without knowing there was a battle at all.
If I survived that, what future battle could honestly be greater?
It’s funny how easy it is to forget.

Tonight I looked back to where it all began and then it hit me. The future doesn’t need to be this heavy, over engineered thing. Maybe it’s a child’s plan. Simple. Hopeful. A little messy. Still moving forward.

I feel fazed, but not shaken.
Uncertain, but not afraid. 

Kòsí Ifoya, ọmọ aṣẹ lon panic

Life doesn’t really matter like that…
but while it does, I want to enjoy it properly. On my terms.

And through all of it, I remember—
the Lord is my shepherd.
I already have what I need.


Bathroom musings. & Moonlight thoughts
AceOluwapelumi
30/01/2026

I think I’m done now. The time I have for writing is almost up.

See you soon, frens.
Push those limits,
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Stages of life — Wizard Chan

Idan’s Musings
”Experience is simply the name we give our mistakes.” — Oscar Wilde

The Trust Deficit: A Real Estate Horror Story

Doing business anywhere is not an easy task, particularly when dealing with humans. But here in Nigeria, the difficulty level is unbelievably high. Leave aside the policies that have mood swings; doing business with Nigerians often requires a completely different survival instinct.

I learned this lesson when I was close to a bakery business and watched how workers didn’t stop until they saw the end of it—but that’s not what prompted this newsletter.

Earlier this week, I was with Dolapo, the owner of MainlandHouses. He was taking me on a drive to inspect the company’s new project under construction. In no time, we started talking about real estate, and he shared how recent thefts on his sites went down.

The Welders and the “Souvenirs” He had delivered quite a number of iron bars to the site. When the welders were done, they cut the remaining bars into carryable chunks and attempted to take them as “souvenirs”—after being fully paid for the job.

Luckily for Mainland Houses, the security noticed that the guys who arrived with small bags were leaving with bags as big as Santa’s at Christmas.

The Engineer and the 50 Bags. According to Dolapo, this engineer was supposed to be his most trusted ally on site. That didn’t stop him from orchestrating a major theft.

How do you move 50 bags of cement from a site unnoticed? You have to think like a thief.

The Engineer’s Strategy:

1. Wait for the opportunity: There were around 120 bags of cement in the site store, and they needed to bring in a new batch of 300. The instruction was standard: bring the old ones outside, put the new ones in the back, and use the old 120 for the foundation.

2. Timing: On the day the cement arrived, the engineer told the delivery guys to drop only 250 bags. He proposed selling the remaining 50 bags back to them at ₦7,000 (even though they were bought for ₦10,500). The delivery guys agreed, kept the bags, and sent him the money on the spot. Do the maths

3. The Cover-up: He then compromised everyone else on site—including the security who had caught the welders just two weeks prior. Everyone agreed to stay silent.

It would have been the perfect crime, except for one thing.

The Pastor with Integrity. There was one worker on site who still had integrity—and coincidentally, he was a pastor. He called Dolapo and exposed the theft.

As any business owner would, Dolapo got his lawyers and the police involved. The engineer kept denying it until he saw that this was actually heading to court. Just before it got serious at the station—seeing clearly that his future was no longer in his home, but behind prison bars—he confessed and sent all the money back on the spot.

In the end, Dolapo had to fire everyone.

The Sad Reality

This story says one thing: that wasn’t their first time. They were just caught because a new worker on the site couldn’t be bought.

Think about it—the security guard knew exactly what happened to the welders just weeks before. For him not to be discouraged by their fate, this must have been a system they had consistently gotten away with. Man, these people can kill you, literally and figuratively.

In Nigeria, being “street smart” is no longer about helpful hacks for surviving. It’s now about taking advantage of your fellow human and never letting your guard down because you know what your people are capable of. This is not the way to live, man.

We can argue that the economic situation of the country over the years has accelerated this decay and made everyone desperate, and it’s truly sad to see.

Anyways, till next time frens,
Protect your investments.
Ace.

[Alternative closing]
Anyways,
No allow them rip you o - Portable
Ace

Gbedu Pick
Holy Water — Peruzzi

Idan’s Musings
”Balance is not something you find, it's something you create.” —Jana Kingsford.

It’s a new year, and well, it’s a new year.

While writing this post, I realized that I’m yet to pen down a goals list for this year. I did that in 2024 and 2025, and possibly in 2023 too, yet I didn’t fully accomplish all the goals I set. In some years, more than half didn’t go as planned. So it begs the question: Is it a waste of time?

No, I don’t think so.

After this post, I’ll write them again. This time, though, I’ll set reminders to revisit them periodically, because I’ve realized that I often lose track. If you’re like this too, do better this year.

I was at a wedding last month, and while it was ongoing, I had a conversation with a friend about how humans constantly shift their goals. It’s a theme I’ve written about quite a lot: humans and our insatiable wants. There is always one more thing. We spoke about how dangerous it is to tie happiness solely to goals.

So this year, as we live through the days, let’s be more intentional about staying happy, which, interestingly, is harder than being melancholic.

Not everything, and not everyone, deserves a reaction from us. You’ll only end up angry or riled up for nothing. Those reactions might feel necessary in the moment, but in the grand scheme of things, they’re needless. I can’t count the number of times I’ve gotten worked up, only to look back later and realize it was avoidable and unnecessary. But hey, we continue to do better.

This year, take care of yourself, as I will also try to do. You can only do so much for yourself and others if you don’t take care of yourself first. Good health is the most underrated thing in life. Take care of your health. Be futuristic about it.

Social media is a funny place. You might have a very foolish thought, and boom, you see it on your timeline. It’s a place full of thoughts, opinions, and agendas. Always filter what you consume. And in this AI age, don’t be a promptstitute. Don’t substitute your thinking with AI. Don’t be that person who checks ChatGPT or Gemini before forming an opinion, even on the smallest things. When you find yourself doing that, well, well, well.

One other thing I’ve always known but have been thinking about more recently is people’s propensity to talk. I was walking with my mom on Sunday when she mentioned how some people on our street gossip too much. Interestingly, those same people greeted us so warmly that you wouldn’t expect such a secondary school attitude from them.

The truth is simple. The crowd will always talk. If you live your life based on what people will say, remember this: people have mouths for a reason—to talk. You don’t even have to do anything. People will talk about you not doing anything. People will always talk, so do you and give them something to talk about, on your own terms.

Live.

Be kind, but don’t be a walkover. Like one of my friends told someone who wanted to walk all over him, “I’m gentle, but with the ability to switch things up when necessary.” It’s a small warning not to confuse meekness with stupidity.

Have a great year, friends. I hope to write more this year. It’ll be tough, but doable. Same with PBA. I have pictures for days now, and I hope to finally do something with them.

Be audacious. Life gives to those who reach. You can do a lot more than you think. So if you see me doing something that feels out of character, remember this. Aside from the fact that I don’t fit into a box, I’m simply taking my advice.

Till next time,
Thrive and live life,
Ace

Gbedu Pick
Time of my life — Peruzzi & Estoterica

Idan’s Musings
”Optimism is a happiness magnet. If you stay positive, good things and good people will be drawn to you.” —Mary Lou Retton.

If I had a million for every time I have hosted people at my apartment, the federal government would be borrowing money from me. Emi Host with the most, Ace.

Previously, if I was on a call with my mum and she heard someone else around, sometimes she would ask, “Ahn an, you’re not alone?”

To which I answered, “I’m not.”

Then she goes, “Which of your friends?” since she knows some of my friends—especially the White Housers, IFYKYK. If she knows them, I mention the name; otherwise, I just say, “You don’t know the person” because keeping up with explanations is just work for someone like me, and I also just spare her the stress of keeping up unless it’s important.

I kind of officially accepted that I am accommodating when, one time, I had my mum help me get tubers of yams to send to my friend who was traveling to my house. She called me to say she’d bought double what we agreed on.

“Mummy, why?”
“You always have people around now.”
“Oh oh, na true.”
“So it will last longer.”
”Eseun ma”

Why am I telling y’all this? I’ve always found the difference in behaviors of some of my guests fascinating. Let’s pick two or maybe three or more.

Lights On vs. Lights Off

I think my preference is dimmed lights or lights off, but I can sleep with lights on too; my own is to just sleep, abeg. You know those dimmed colored lights? Yep. I have blue, purple, and red in my workspace and same in my bedroom. In the living room, I have blue, green, and red.

I once jumped on a call with a friend, and she said my house looked like a brothel, and some say like a shrine. 😂 And we have some who, well, just think I’m an agent of darkness because of how dark everything looks. Some of my guys don tire to dey complain. Anyways, I have very bright AKT bulbs in my living room now. Y’all should enjoy. (And to those who switch the light on in my workspace to disturb me, I’m watching you.)

Back to business. I’ve seen people who wouldn’t sleep without light and some who, if there’s no light, would use their phone torches. I’m like, “Wow. This thing deep like this?”

For the ones that are extreme, I’d say you need to add “lights on or off” as your first date question. Because if you, an extreme “lights on” person, meet someone who hates light and you fall in love before realizing... well, na una go sabi. I think the weirdest is “I can’t sleep with red light on.” I was like, wait, are you serious? Which style is that one again?

Sleeping with Music

If you’ve ever stayed in my house and I wasn’t playing music (and I wasn’t in a meeting), however briefly, you are an extremely lucky person—even though I know it’s very, very unlikely. I play music everywhere: awake o, about to sleep o, bathroom o, working o.

Last year, it took me time to realize that a couple of my friends opted to sleep in the living room because my Soundcore speaker—now of blessed memory—would be playing Enya or Brymo right before bedtime, before the YT Music timer killed it. I’ve previously asked them, and both would always be like, “Nothing jare.” One of them doesn’t mind the music sometimes, to be honest, but last year, my music was every time. At home, the space between my room and the choir section of the church beside me cannot fit a car, even if you remove the fence. So, well, I’ve had training.

Weird Habits & Light Sleepers

Another weird category is someone who said going to bed wearing black clothes is a no-no. I’m like, where are they seeing you people? Where? No be to wear cloth sleep?

If you are a light sleeper, raise your hand. I’m raising both hands cos I realized that some of my friends who don’t want to wake me while leaving or moving around in the morning (I sleep unhealthily late) have to tiptoe around the house. One morning, one of my friends was leaving,, and he inadvertently made the door make a small sound. Right on cue, I opened my eyes and saw my friend tiptoeing to the living room.

“Ahn an, when this one start? Wetin you dey do?”

And then there are some of my friends that, well, let's just say you can airlift them to a ship on the Atlantic without them realizing. Set awon deep sleepers. Reminds me of a roommate in Part two, who, while asleep on the top of a bunk bed, fell down and landed on a small gas cylinder, stood up, and went back to bed like nothing happened.

The Marathon Eaters

I almost forgot this one. Most people eat once and forget about it, but me? I go to the kitchen again and again until my stomach begins to cry for help. I don’t believe in leaving soldiers behind on the plate.

And then there is a set of my friends... these ones eat a single meal for like 3 hours. They start now, eat small, forget the rest, and say they will pick it up later “when the food has digested.”

Bro? How? You mean you want to pause and resume rice?

Where Do You Press Your Toothpaste?

Frankly, I don’t care where you press the tube from. If you like, press it up, right, left, down—just press and brush, man. I remember when it was a thing on Twitter NG. And the very first day someone mentioned it in my house, I was like, “Na dem.” Ogbeni, wetin concern you with where em press toothpaste?

I’ve seen my friends refuse to use teeth to open Cadbury nylon or noodles spice nylon and ask for scissors instead. In the same way, I’ve seen some tear the damn nylon with teeth with no damn feeling for the nylon. It’s just funny. It’s even funnier when you see that some of the persons that ask for scissors for light nylons use their teeth to tear sachet water nylons in an unforgiving way.

I just find it amusing that we are all similar and different in plenty of ways. My do is your don’t. It’s not really about the hosting; it’s about that fascinating realization that we are all wired so uniquely. We walk around thinking our way is the “normal” way until we meet someone who sleeps with the lights blazing or tears nylon with their teeth. It just shows that las las, we are all weirdos, just different departments. My weird is your normal, your normal is my weird. Same WhatsApp group, different admins.

Imma start charging, AceAirBnb no be small thing. The weirder you are, the higher your fee.

Till next time frens,
Stay weird,
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Cooking Pot — Peruzzi ft Jeriq

Idan’s Musings
Work hard, play as hard, plan for the future, but make sure you are living in the present. — O. Oluwapelumi. A.

I’m just going to write.

The sitcom that has been my working companion recently is MOM, and a huge part of the storyline involves Christy and her mother, Bonnie, going to AA meetings. (Alcoholics Anonymous is a fellowship of people who come together to solve their drinking problem.) Watching it reminded me of a phase when I always wanted myself and my friends to hang out weekly or at least twice a month — the way friend groups do in some of my favourite sitcoms: The Big Bang Theory, Friends, and How I Met Your Mother.

There’s something wholesome about gathering like that. It’s communal. It’s grounding.

So, the AA meetings sparked an idea: a Workaholics Anonymous group. After working all week, we’d come together to talk about how the week went, listen to one another, spend an hour or two bonding over snacks, and head home refreshed. But I won’t be creating one — at least not now. Friendships and circles can be sweet yet complicated. You can’t dictate how people treat each other. And honestly, it can get stressful. It’s one of the reasons I took a break from hosting hangouts earlier this year. I hate avoidable stress and anything that looks like it.

What I can do for the foreseeable future is organize Party with Ace — big thing, good DJs, great vibes. Everyone is welcome: come with your energy, drop your issues at the door, and turn up. And if you sleep off, don’t worry, I won’t Burna Boy you.

I could also host a Games Night with Ace, the way Bemshima does in Ibadan. Maybe three or four times a year. We’ll see. Personally, I’d prefer more strangers than familiar faces.

Last year, I wanted to learn how to swim and play guitar. I even made enquiries for swimming lessons but still didn’t learn either. This year, my plan was lawn tennis. Again, I made enquiries. I even went to Sheraton with two of my neighbours. We all promised to get kits and start the next month. We are still “starting.”

Somehow, I found myself in Ibadan a few times this year. There was a Friday I was supposed to return to Lagos, but rain started pouring. After it stopped, I went back to my friend’s place, and he drove us straight to the swimming pool. We’ll call him Ibadan Michael Phelps 😂😂. His trainer was there, so boom — class one.

Then earlier this month, I woke up one morning, decided I needed a change of environment, and went to Ibadan again. I branched at Ibadan Phelps’ house, and of course, we ended up at the pool.

On the night of my birthday, a friend from the same circle called, and somehow, we realised we were both in Ibadan for the same reason — to breathe. No long talk. Swimming pool hangout. Festac Michael Phelps could definitely swim better than me but still needed lessons from Ibadan Phelps. Some friends of my friend were also there, so it was a pretty chilled evening that ended with five of us grabbing barbecue. My guy had hyped it earlier, and it was actually worth it.

Since my swimming lessons were supposed to start last year but only began this year, maybe the rest of my hobby plans for this year will start next year. In that same spirit, dear universe, my new plan is to learn how to fly a plane. Universe, over to you.

I was talking with Faith about music, and he said Sabali by Peruzzi is one of the most underrated and solid albums released this year. I just want to let y’all know he’s not wrong.

Gbedu & Vibes is coming, or will come, in Jesus’ name. But here’s the catch: don’t ask me about it. I won’t tell you what it is until it arrives.

I’ve also started mentally compiling my thoughts on the songs I’ve listened to this year. There will definitely be a post titled The Music That Saved Me in 2025 and one called Songs That Got Me Hooked in 2025.

I’ll also start posting TikToks about music — yes, with my face. Let’s have fun.

One thing I really love seeing on the internet right now is the growing culture of intentionally finding happiness. I love it.

I saw a reel recently that started with this line:

“We’re saving our bodies for adventures that can handle them. We’re hoarding travel for retirement like our bodies don’t expire.”

The guy said time-sensitive experiences can’t be postponed.

Backpacking at 25? Adventure.
Backpacking at 65? You’re in an ambulance.

Our knees have expiry dates. Our sense of wonder has a shelf life. Flights are infinite, borders are imaginary, but our bodies… not so much. We’re out here optimising for money while our bodies quietly decay. It’s like saving a cake for when you’re diabetic.

He said he took these lessons from the book Die With Zero by Bill Perkins — getting all you can from your money and your life.

And honestly, I’ve always known this. That’s why even when I can’t afford my dream destinations, I still tour Nigeria. My friends and I have taken train rides from Lagos to Abeokuta, to Ibadan, and back. Just for vibes. Just to live.

Live regardless.

Before you bring up money — please — I’ve gone out with the last cash in my account. I do it every other day. Money will go either way. Work hard, play as hard, plan for the future, but make sure you are living in the present.

Oh, and you heard it here first: the beta version of Routin is going live on the Android Play Store tomorrow.

If you signed up to be a tester, expect an email inviting you to start testing and share feedback. Thank you for helping shape the future of productivity and wellness with us.

If you’d like to be notified when the app launches, visit myroutin.app to join the waitlist. If you’re among the first 1,000 people, you’ll get up to three months of Routin Pro for free. Inviting your friends also makes you eligible for Routin Star, which gives you additional Pro access.

Till next time, frens,
Live,
Ace.

Gbedu of the year
Young again — Pheelz & Fireboy DML

Idan’s Musings
Sometimes, you need to learn how to stay afloat before you can enjoy the luxury of a ship. — O. Oluwapelumi. A.

In a few hours, the sun will finally set, and it’ll be the dawn of a new age. And just like some evenings and late nights when you have time to think about how the day has gone, this time it’s about how the year has gone.

The first few months feel like a blur now, but I remember telling myself I’d take fitness seriously and be consistent. And for a while, I actually did. Big props to me here. Another thing I said was that I’d put myself out there. I had a different picture in mind, but somehow I still ended up doing it, and since I’ve started, I’m not stopping.

For probably the first time in my adult life, maybe even ever, I did an X-ray. My knee pains had gotten worse, and after years of managing it, I decided to face the fear of the unknown and just know what’s wrong. I got Folaborn, my physiotherapist (unpaid but still loyal), to help with some special balms and routines. When I finally did the X-ray, the doctor put my fears to rest. He recommended some exercises and gave me physio appointments, which I didn’t exactly honor since I had Folaborn to disturb.

I also got a standing desk to help my sedentary lifestyle, and being able to work while standing made a real difference. That, along with everything else, worked. I still feel some pain from time to time, but it’s nothing compared to how it was early last year.

A month after my birthday in 2024, I finally used my passport for something other than KYC. Me and some of the boys packed our bags into a black Toyota bus and journeyed through Benin Republic, Togo, and Ghana. I closed 2024 with that highlight and started the new age with it.

I tasted the worst meal of my life yet in a local pub in Accra, we asked the driver that took us to the waterfall in the picture above to take us to any nice spot where local food is the main course and he did that. He hyped up Banku and whatever the tasteless, nauseauting, irritating soup is called. I’m not going to lie to you. It’s the first food I said I’d never try again. For someone that likes to eat a food more than once before thrashing it, that one needed just one. I tried to finish it but I could, I felt like vomiting and had to go buy some Suya sticks. I needed pepper man.

In Togo, I bowled my insides out for hours and I had to go to a pharmacy with Debs in the middle of the night, my stomach was in disarray.

We had the best meal in Benin Republic, some of us ate Amala while others had Tuwo with an Egusi lookalike and tastes somewhat similar. But this soup, wow, was the bomb. It had everything, banged, with a consortium of proteins. From Crab, to fish, to meat, to Cheese and more than I can remember. You’ll read about it all later.

We’ve had other adventures too — taking a spontaneous train trip to go climbing Olumo Rock, visiting the Olusegun Obasanjo Presidential Library in Abeokuta, taking a train to Ibadan just to eat at Amala Skye, then ending it all with a boat cruise at Eleyele Lake. We even hung out in Lagos, paid to be locked up at an escape room (why did we do that again?), and rounded it up with food at Jay’s diner. The Alfredo pasta is nice btw.

Sometimes, during that mini West African trip, I’d catch myself thinking, what if you spend all this money and lose your job next year? I’d shrug it off and keep it moving. Then in the last week of May, during a work call, I saw that our Notion privileges had been withdrawn. While still on that call, my bosses asked me and my colleague to join a Slack Huddle, and I just knew — this is it.

My intuition was right. The call confirmed that the company was closing the engineering team to focus on the rain maker for the company — The design agency — since we were running out of runway. That marked the end of my 3-year journey there. First thing we did? Eat. Always eat first. Then we started planning next steps.

Some of you know the story of Routin, how I started tracking my tasks on Microsoft To-Do, holding myself accountable on Snapchat, then deciding to build something I could actually use. I turned to some of my guys, and we started Routin. Unemployment gave me time to focus on it, and I went all in. BTW, if you haven’t, you should sign up for the waitlist, Signup here. There is a discount for people with referrals as well.

Still, not having a job sucks, no two ways about it. The rate at which I went from turning on my AC whenever there was light to completely ignoring it was shocking. But I guess when the pocket can’t, the body adjusts. And man just be cooking things, and according to my Mum and her long time friend from College ate some of my meals and said “No one can flex cooking in my face”. If you cannot eat pepper, avoid it. Realized I haven’t been to the beach in 2025 and if you know me, you’d know that this is very unusual, but, na smalls. There’s a potential plan to go before the year runs out, but, we will see.

Now, about friendships. This one stings. In 9 lives, I didn’t think I’d be writing this. It feels naive, yet I know I’m not. Life happens, and friendship isn’t immune. I’ve always placed a premium on friendship, gone out of my way to nurture it. But when friendships of 8+ years start to fade for reasons beyond you, and there’s nothing you can do about it, it breaks you.

When you see something that’s supposed to outlive you die an untimely, preventable death, it weakens you. Sometimes it’s a different type betrayal, it’s indirect, the slow, quiet kind, when you realize how quickly you’re disregarded after all those years. That’s when you know it’s time to stay in your lane. Sometimes, it’s a dagger, a blunt one, pushed in from the side. You’re still there, still breathing, but you can feel life slowly draining out, and you’re too tired to fight it.

It’s worse when you’ve built part of yourself around those friendships, used their longevity as proof of something real, only to realize that what you stood on wasn’t made of the material you thought it was.

Most people know I love music, but not everyone understands how much. One night, I had my problems up to my neck. My wine cellar called out to me — not to enjoy, but to drown my sorrows. I didn’t answer. I plugged in instead and asked music to save me. And it did. (I wrote about this.)

One other thing I’ve learned: the fear of the worst is sometimes worse than the thing itself. And most times, we’ll survive, even if we come out with scars. Whatever it is you have to do, just do it. At the end of the day, excuses won’t matter — only regrets. Whether or not it’s easy, just do it.

This year, I’ve also been praying for and learning patience — the ability to truly wait. Good things take time, but I often ask myself, “Can I wait?” And if I must wait, may I not wait in vain.

Now, I’m grateful to still be here. And I know that while all of us might be going through one or two things, we’ll still overcome. It’s a matter of when, not if. That’s why I wrote Unfazed, the poem. I’ve just learned to take life’s issues in stride. You too? Okay, we move.

There’s a quote I saw earlier this year that’s stayed with me:

“If you knew you had 30 more failures before success, how fast would you want to fail?”

This year, I told everyone to stay limitless because I really believe we are. I’ve floated through most of 2025, but I’m grateful for life, for family, for friends, and even for the failures. I’m floating right now, but make no mistake — I’m cruise bound. Sometimes, you need to learn how to stay afloat before you can enjoy the luxury of a ship. And yeah, I’ve had two impromptu swimming lessons, I can glide from end to end now and I’m told I have good kicks. Hehe.

Right now, my song of the moment is Shallipopi’s Him:

“I’m him, I’m him
God said, “Go into the world and multiply” (ehn?)
Na me dem dey show for your telly”

“I met the Lord, and you follow, I’m him
From the day that God made me I swear, me, I’m him (Clear)
Why you keep looking?”

Because, as you know (or not), I am Him. The year might’ve been tough, but I’m still Him — and soon, the world will see. But till you see me on your telly, stay limitless as always.

And as Fireboy says,

“Celebrate o,
Ṣe you no know?
We no fit young again.”

So celebrate. Life is going to be really good; it’s just a matter of time.

Till next year, frens
Stay Limitless
Him, Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Italawa — Show Dem Camp

Idan’s Musings
The good thing about life is that everything ends. The bad thing about life is that everything ends. — O. Oluwapelumi. A.

There are enough problems in the world, and it’s like they say, every day comes with its own unique set of problems. One thing I know is that they don’t need your permission to come into your life. It’s like Mohbad’s opinion about music: “Music no need permission to enter your soul.” It’s the same with problems. Happiness, on the other hand, is something you have to actively find yourself and intentionally protect.

I think a mistake I’ve seen people make, which I’m also guilty of, is that we always seem to chase the big wins and completely forget about the small ones. In my poem titled Happiness, I wrote

“Find happiness. It’s also in the little things we overlook”.

I’m not saying we should ignore the big wins or our life purpose to widen the scope. All I’m saying is that we should not disregard the smaller ones. Look at them as the fuel you need to drive you to that big win. It’s something that gives us energy to show up for tomorrow, to keep showing up.

It could even be someone else’s win. For instance, when my boy told me he’d paid for his car and was awaiting shipping, you could see me light up. From then till the car came, I was always asking him for the landing date at any chance I got. He might be the owner, but the joy wasn’t his alone. On some days, a lot actually, music is one of the things that gives me joy. A new song, a new album is always something to look forward to for me. The music drops, I disturb everyone with it, play it on repeat till my ears start to bleed, rinse, rotate, and they beg for mercy.

Here’s a related poem I wrote in June earlier this year.

Years ago, I realized that one of the best ways to get through life
is to always have something to look forward to—
a source of fulfillment, of joy.

If life is an unending puzzle of problems,
why should my joy have to pause?

Sometimes, I look forward to beach days,
to nights where I watch the waves crash,
the water stretching into infinity,
in both roars and calm.

Other times, it’s the dream of seeing the Northern Lights,
floating in a hot air balloon,
or simply the curiosity of knowing
what the rare Dong Tao chicken tastes like.

Today, what keeps me going
is imagining how it’ll feel
to finally hear Adiemus performed by a live orchestra.
To watch the instruments rise and fall in harmony,
creating the kind of melody
that makes life feel worth living.

The good thing about life
is that everything ends.
The bad thing about life
is that everything ends.

So, before it all ends,
I choose to look forward.
To feel it all. 
To take it all in.

If you’ve been reading my letters for a while you’ll probably realize that being intentional about happines is one of the things I write about the most. So incase you missed this.

I’m a very spontaneous person. After all, life itself is unpredictable, so why shouldn’t I be? If you want to stress me, let’s start making plans far ahead. I like the “Pelumi, are you free tomorrow?” “Yes.” Or like the time we went sightseeing in Abeokuta. Myself, Codee, and VeeCode were at MAS Electronics (they sell the best foreign-used laptops), and we saw the Lagos train passing. Someone said, “See train o,” and I was like, “Una don enter the train before?” “No.” “And we fit go try am o.” “He no bad.” The next person said, “Shey make we do train go Abeokuta tomorrow? We fit go Olumo Rock and co.” “Ehn en, make sense.” “Make I buzz Harbzy.”

Before you knew it, six of us took the unplanned trip to Abeokuta.

Obviously, there are exceptions when I have no choice but to plan, like a trip outside the country or a major hangout. And as expected, when I do, I look forward to the few planned outings I organize. It’s about who, and if it doesn’t go as I intended (which is very rare, by the way), it saddens me more.

A lot of things haven’t exactly gone my way this year, but if you ask me what keeps me going, I’ve given you the answer: having something to look forward to. To be honest, there will be times when it gets overwhelming regardless; life is crazy like that. But after expressing it or letting it out (find your medium), you gotta dust yourself off. From the major lesson I learnt in this 2020, after the night I wouldn’t wake up which was that everything in this life na smalls; we go dey alright. And even if e no small at the moment, in time (could be weeks, years), e go small.

Even with the erratic way my football club, Man Utd, and the Super Eagles have been playing, I still look forward to their matches. Their losses no longer matter to me now. Funny how, from when I originally wrote this, neither has lost a football game. Funny stuff.

Till next time frens,
Look forward to my newsletter, haha.
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Demons — Zlatan ft Qing Madi

Idan’s Musing
”Even the God of worries doesn’t want you to worry” — O. Oluwapelumi. A

2020 is that year almost everyone remembers. COVID-19, lockdowns, the world on pause.And if you’re Nigerian, you also remember EndSARS.

I remember all that too. But I also remember 2020 as the first year I went to bed really doubting if I’d wake up the next morning. Before you go ahead, you might want to grab some popcorn as this is the story behind the piece I once published here titled “Even the God of worries doesn’t want you to worry”.

By December 2019, I had written my final exams, signed out, done FYB week and all that. The four-year journey was technically over, which officially ended early 2020 when I defended my project.

If you’re Nigerian, you’re probably familiar with the phrase “rough am”. For me, it meant things weren’t great financially. I was just getting by.

In my final year, I joined Samuel to run Datalink Expertise (time to brag a bit, we got an award for best clique with Timi who completes this particular trio, haha), where we taught fellow students how to use Microsoft Word, Excel and PowerPoint, plus Adobe Photoshop, and later UI/UX design with Figma and Adobe XD.

When it was time for seminar presentations, I made a decent amount of money designing slides for my colleagues. I had already shown my “slide prowess” during our SIWES, so people knew who to call.

The day before our final exam, Samuel got a design job in Lagos and left the week after. I decided to focus on upskilling, which meant our teaching business had ended. Or so I thought.

One night, while walking Gift—who I was helping with typesetting for her project—to the bus stop, we had a conversation I’ll probably never forget.

Gift: Debug’d, this one wey you calm like this, the future no dey scare you?
Me: I no get.
Gift: We too plenty for our department and job no dey this country. Omo, me I’m scared o.
Me: I’m not sha. All I know is this tech I’m doing, my way dey there and I go do am till it pays.
Her: Ehn ehn, wetin I fit learn? How do I start? Wetin you fit teach me?
Me: Omo, I no really dey teach again. When we dey teach at reduced cost, people no really turn up.
Her: Ah Debug, I ready and I serious.
Me: Hmm okay, but if I wan teach anything now, na X amount o (which was three times more than before).
Her: Okay, no wahala.

Now, I knew she didn’t have a laptop, so I told her getting one was a prerequisite. Honestly, I said that because I didn’t really want to teach again and felt she wouldn’t be able to get one soon.

I was shocked when she texted me the next day:

“I’m ready. I now have a system.” 😂😭😭

But you didn’t have a system for project now
I had no choice. My mantra then was simple — I won’t be the reason someone fails to do something.

So I told her class starts Monday. Before then, I sent a message to my class group for others who might be interested. To my surprise, quite a number of people registered and paid. I even ran two more batches.

Hot boy Debug’d 😂😂. That was Q1 2020.

Upwork was already popular, and one of my friends who had better luck with gigs passed some my way. We even planned to get an apartment together and lock in. Then COVID struck.

The money from teaching and gigs helped me buy my first “big boy” phone, a Redmi Note 8 Pro. Life was finally picking up. But life had other plans.

The global economy crashed, everyone was stuck at home, and my parents’ income got hit since they couldn’t open their shop. That’s how the year that started so well began to turn on me.

I had only one option: face my computer like my life depended on it, because it actually did.

I learned everything I could. I got out of COVID knowing Flutter, JavaScript, Node.js, and by the end of the year, I added React.
(John, now you know what was chasing me.)

At one point, I was dead broke. Even a church rat would have stolen church money for me. I had a smartphone but no data. I was only online when my younger brother or mum was home so I could use their hotspot, or when I went to Curlybraces’ house to work (he’d put on the gen).

I almost missed out on a job that eventually saved me — one Curlybraces referred me for — because I didn’t have data.

He called hours later saying the employer hadn’t heard from me. Thankfully, his house was close by, so I rushed there.

“Guy, on hotspot make I send CV abeg.”

He stood there in disbelief. I think he even paid like 60% of my next data purchase when we

Now that y’all know the backstory, let’s go back to the main story.

During those sapa weeks, the financial situation started getting to me. Things weren’t rosy, but we were surviving. Still, I felt a certain sadness — being the first child and a guy, knowing I couldn’t help financially even though nobody placed the burden on me.

If only I had a remote job.

Back in school, my guys and I were used to staying awake overnight — sometimes watching tutorials, coding, playing games, or reading before exams.

Normally, I hate worrying. I try not to think about what I can’t control. But this was different. I couldn’t go to bed without worrying, and I hated it with every fiber of my being.

So how did I cope? I threw myself into learning, at the expense of my sleep and health.

I figured if I worked myself to exhaustion, I’d fall asleep before I hit the bed. I was doing 2–4 hours of sleep regularly.

If either of my parents woke up to pee, they’d urge me to sleep. My dad took it as a personal assignment. Morning, afternoon, night. And in my mind, I’d just think,

“This my daddy no know as e dey do me 😭😂.”

At some point, they stopped waking me for devotion. But I’m a light sleeper, so I’d still wake up.

When COVID restrictions eased, we resumed hanging out at the Engineer’s office on campus. One afternoon, I was there with Curlybraces and maybe Walescoder when Curlybraces gave me a strange look.

“Why you dey breathe like that? Wetin happen?”

I brushed it off, but he told me to keep quiet and listen. When everything went silent, I started hearing JBL-like sounds coming from my chest. Shey na me dey breathe like that so?

By the time I got home, it was louder. My dad noticed immediately. Everyone was worried. That night, I couldn’t stop thinking — isn’t this how people sleep and don’t wake up again?

Different thoughts ran through my mind. I realized I didn’t want to die.

The next morning, I went to the hospital faster than I’ve ever gone anywhere. I saw myself awake and whispered,

“Ah, Oluwa, ọṣẹ o.”

I went to see my aunt, a nurse then. She checked my blood pressure, then gave me the sermon of my life.

You know when someone corrects you with truths you don’t want to hear but absolutely need to? That was it.

She even joked,

“Abi you don do something wey you no suppose do? Wetin dey bother you?”

Let’s just say she spoke sense into my head.

She told me nothing in life was worth killing myself over. That if I, a child, was this worried, imagine how my parents felt. Yet, did I see them running to the hospital? No.

What she said, along with my parents’ own words, gave birth to my poem, “Even the God of Worries Doesn’t Want You to Worry.”

Although I still have an irregular sleep pattern (I typed this at 1:52 a.m.), I try to get around seven hours daily. Anytime I feel sleepy, I don’t fight it — I find my bed or my couch. (this message was the main reason I started typing this btw)

Why am I telling you this?

Because I’ve applied that same rule to most parts of my life.
If I feel like doing something, I do it.
I feel sleepy, I sleep.
I feel hungry, I eat.
I remember someone I’ve forgotten, I check on them.
I feel like touching grass, I go out.

I still procrastinate, but not with certain things anymore.

The whole experience taught me not to worry. If it’s too much, I sleep it off. Problems no really dey finish for this life.

Think about it — we once had WAEC, JAMB and NECO as our biggest problems. Then came university, where finishing became the next challenge.

In my department, part 4 was the toughest — from Bablo’s courses to others.

I remember when Law was frustrating Mercy in part 4. I told her worrying wouldn’t solve anything and that she might not even remember this phase in a few months. Thankfully, she listened. Because when she was done with part 4, final year came. And guess what’s next? Law school.

You’ll finish all that, get a job, and then adulthood will, without your permission, teach you that problems truly never end.

Fela was singing about Nigeria before I was born, and guess who’s still singing along now?
Us.

Eedris Abdulkarim even gave us one, “Nigeria jaga jaga…”

Problem no dey finish.

Anyways gents, worry less, sleep more.
Ace

Gbedu Pick
LaiLo — Adekunle Gold

Idan’s Musing
”If you listen to your fears, you will die never knowing what a great person you might have been.” — Robert Schuller

This might feel more like a rant.

I really dislike how gender-related conversations have become nearly impossible to have without someone turning them into an argument or a competition. It feels like you lose your right to speak on gender issues if you’re not part of the gender being discussed. If you’re looking to start a word war online, say anything about a gender, we are all guilty of this, both men and women. But since the Maraji reaction triggered this post, we’ll talk about that angle today.

There was a time I used to see women encourage men to speak more openly — campaigns and posts saying things like “It’s okay for men to talk about how they feel.” ‘It’s okay for men to cry”. It seemed like progress, but in practice, it rarely works that way, especially when men try to speak around women. Someone once said there’s a reason phrases like “man up” have survived for generations (Speaking up increased the issues, so they learnt to keep quiet). Others include “as a man, nobody cares about how you’re feeling.” For a long time, the only one I agreed with was “nobody is coming to save you.” But now, with a lot of disappointment, I find myself agreeing with the rest too (maybe it’s this pain of realization that these men are right why I write this rant).

I’m not someone who bottles things up, but I’m not the most expressive either. I let go of things easily and move on I prefer to talk when I can’t ignore and move on from something. Still, with many of my female friends who want me to be more expressive, I’ve realized something: a lot of times when I try, the conversation turns into an argument that leaves me feeling worse than before. It can be worse that sometimes I start questioning whether it was even worth speaking up at all. There’s a big difference between hearing and listening. Listening just to argue isn’t the same as listening to understand. You don’t have to agree with me, just understand me first.

Generally speaking, you can’t keep asking men to open up, then ridicule or twist their words with a strawman argument every time they do.The strawman fallacy is when you misrepresent what someone says, then attack the distorted version instead of their real point. It’s like someone saying, “We should improve the education system,” and another person replying, “So you think teachers are lazy?” That’s not what was said. It’s exhausting and it happens sometimes when men try to speak about their feelings.

Recently, I came across a video of Maraji utterly mocking, disregarding and ridiculing a man who was sharing his experience as a father on a podcast titled “The Struggles Men Face After Marriage and Childbirth.” I decided to watch the full video myself before writing this. Honestly, I initially likened the way she took excerpts from the video, picking it apart to rid it of the contexts to someone picking the lesson in a bible chapter from just a verse. But this is by the way.

He began by saying, “When there is pregnancy and all that, nobody focuses attention on the mother. I am not saying no [that dont need or deserve it all]. They deserve it, that is a whole lot of job.” He acknowledged that fully before adding that no one checks on the father or asks how he’s coping. He then explained how he hadn’t slept for nearly 48 hours, barely ate, and only realized how drained he was when his brother mentioned it. He ended by saying it’s one of the things men never prepare for.

Now, Maraji’s reaction was to laugh, dismiss, and call it a comparison. She accused him of trying to equate his experience with his wife’s, when in fact he wasn’t. Ironically, she was the one who turned it into a comparison — listing all that women go through in pregnancy before concluding that the man “barely did anything.” She even admitted she didn’t fully understand where the man was coming from. So why ridicule him at all?

Then came her analogy: “It’s like someone comparing cancer to malaria.” I thought that was both unfair and stupid. Even if you think he was comparing, that analogy proved his point. Yes, cancer is more severe than malaria — but malaria is still a disease.

If two patients walk into a hospital, one with cancer and another with malaria, both deserve attention. One may need more urgent care, but the other still needs care. Empathy isn’t a limited resource. You can acknowledge someone’s pain without invalidating another’s.

The man wasn’t asking for equal concern, he was asking for some concern. He wasn’t competing; he was hoping to be seen, even a little. There’s a huge difference between wanting the same thing and simply wanting something.

What many don’t realize is that men go through their own kind of mental toll during pregnancy and childbirth, the sleepless nights, the constant alertness, the silent financial worry to provide everything she needs, the internal fear that something could go wrong at any time. The mind stays on edge. It’s not the same as what women endure physically or emotionally, but it’s still something. Two truths can coexist.

The existence of one something, in this case, pain and stress doesn’t cancel out another. A 90% wound doesn’t make a 10% cut disappear. Empathy isn’t mutually exclusive.

FYI, it can’t even be a competion because the gap is wide and why are we competing with pain.

Let me put it this way. When I was in primary four, I had a car accident. My parents got a call saying I was hurt. I remember my own pain vividly, crying every night as they massaged my wounds with hot water but I can’t imagine the horror they must have felt. They lived with the fear of it happening again to me or my siblings. And sadly, one of my siblings later had a bike accident too.

That’s what fear and worry do; they linger. I think it’s a small glimpse into what many men experience during pregnancy and childbirth: being constantly alert, worried, and silently managing the mental toll.

Last year, my dad had an accident that left him with a broken leg and fractured arm. My mum called me early on a Sunday morning on a normal phone call, but I knew immediately that something was wrong. My heart dropped before I even picked up because it was unusual for me at that time of the day. Ever since, I found myself dreading her normal calls, like I was waiting for a bad news. For a while, I asked her to call me only on WhatsApp when it was worse and then later asked her to keep call me normally so I could break that fear pattern. It’s better now, but that anxiety creeps in once a while.

That’s what I imagine it feels like for husbands during pregnancy — living in that constant state of alertness, carrying the mental and emotional load silently while trying to stay strong. We have a baby acknowledges the presence of two people in that journey even if the roles are as different and wide as we have them. And yet, even that space for men is often mocked or dismissed. But it shouldn’t be. While writing this, I came across something I didn’t even know before — postpartum depression can also affect fathers and they show same symptoms with the once that affect mothers. It’s less discussed, but it’s real. The pressure to provide, the sleepless nights, the emotional weight.

Finally, there’s the caregiving part. On a general note, people often underestimate how exhausting caregiving can be, physically, emotionally, mentally. It’s not comparable to the pain of the person being cared for, but it’s still heavy. There’s even a term for it: caregiver burnout. It’s when you reach a state of emotional and physical exhaustion from caring for someone else.

Two truths can coexist. Women deserve every ounce of empathy and recognition for what they endure through pregnancy and childbirth. But men — fathers, partners, caregivers — can struggle in quieter ways. They also deserve to be seen, even if only a little. The presence of something greater doesn’t erase the presence of something smaller.

Empathy isn’t a competition, it’s not mutually exclusive. We can talk about pain without turning it into a scoreboard of who suffers more. Because the truth is, empathy loses its meaning the moment it starts keeping score.

Thanks for reading what started as a rant,
Listen more,
Ace.

Gbedu Pick
Peace by Piece Ep — Fireboy DML & Pheelz

Idan’s Musing
”We may encounter many defeats but we must not be defeated” — Maya Angelou

It’s past 2 a.m., Fireboy is shouting in my ears: “Celebrate o, we no fit young again.” And me? I’m wide awake, scrolling Substack like I don’t have morning plans while trying to think about how the proper notification arhictecture for an app I am working on. This was when it hits me and I decided to write this newsletter so I can share this feeling with you all.

This EP dropped on what was the best New Music Friday in a while because of all the exciting projects that also drooped. By noon Friday, Harbzy already called me, voice dripping with joy only music can give: “Ah Pelumi, you people should protect Fireboy o!” We both laughed, but he meant it. Fireboy must be protected at all costs. That was the vibe all day: happiness, nostalgia, and excitement.

Listen, I love Adedamola the album, but it didn’t do it for me like this one, I’m giddy. This collab is different. Why? Because it’s Pheelz and Fireboy back together. The duo with an insane chemistry that I’ve missed since LTG (one of the greatest Nigerian debuts, argue with your whatever you want). Hearing them on a joint tape again is like biting into food you’ve craved for years.

Let’s start with the production. Madness. Put on your headphones or blast it from a speaker — instant eargasm. And don’t get me started on people that tweeted Fireboy had “outgrown” Pheelz. Outgrown Pheelz?? From people that listened to Obasima last year and drew that conclusion? Abeg, when it’s time to deal with people with stupid opinions, leave those ones for me. I keep spoilt USB cords for people like them.

The arrangement is smooth as silk. When On a Kentro fades and Gozi slides in — omo, Mo pariwo yeeee, Pheelz ti pami oo (See? Find a translator., Okay, it means Pheelz has killed me o). No wonder Harbzy said “Pelumi, na only you fit relate”. If after tracks like Finesse and Stand By You on Pheelz’s Pheelz Good EP you still weren’t convinced he’s more than a beat maestro — that he’s a proper artiste — this will do it. And for those peddling that Fireboy has “outgrown” Pheelz: please visit an otolaryngologist because something might be seriously wrong with your ears.

On a Kentro (feat. L.A.X.): It starts calm, gives you time to nod your head before the lyrics hit. Pheelz sets the tone: “Dori mi mu, Ẹmi Mimọ, Ẹsẹ mi n gbọn, but I stand strong…” Basically, the Holy Spirit should hold him steady, because his legs are shaking but he’s still standing strong. Fireboy sings about finding his way, partying not curing pain but God holding him down. L.A.X. shows up with a verse about winning battles. Early favourite.

Gozi — From that seamless beat drop that made me shout. Fireboy takes the hook — the repetitive, addictive “O gozi rim ma gozi” (meaning He has blessed me, a line straight out of gospel songs). Both of them are essentially giving thanks: sharing testimonies, counting blessings, basking in the good life. Fireboy, eyan Saint-Tropez, Pheelz tawo ti Monaco.

Shake — Harbzy’s favourite, my least. But I respect it. It’s the most danceable track here, disco-leaning, fast-paced, perfect for sweating it out on a dance floor. The kind of track you shake your head and body vigorously to without shame. I love the stretch where they let the instrumentals breathe, boppy and freeing. This one is different.

Young Again — Gbedu wey burst brain. This is arguably the best song on the project and the one people are in love with the most. Fireboy takes the lead and he’s just floating. Fireboy? E sabi die! When he sings “Celebrate oooo, we no fit young again,” it feels like a sermon. Then Pheelz slides in with a verse that takes you on a journey. Production, melody, lyrics, vibe, everything aligns. This track is spiritual. They remind us to celebrate because youth isn’t forever.

ILWY (In Love With You) — The transition from Young Again into this is so seamless you can almost miss it. I usually do. I’ll be too lost in Young Again and suddenly I’m halfway into ILWY. But then Fireboy pulls me back with, “I don’t believe in star sign, but I believe in you and I.” It’s the love song on the project, and it’s lush. Fireboy starts strong, and Pheelz lifts it to eargasmic highs. The second half — whatever they were doing with that beat, plus their playful call-and-response — perfection. Get in joor.

My rating

1. On a Kentro

2. Young Again

3. ILWY

4. Gozi

5. Shake

Right now, Peace by Piece is my best EP of 2025 so far — top three projects of the year, no debate. It’s the chosen project I had playing on repeat while writing a poem about how music rescues me from messy weeks. Fireboy and Pheelz remind me why I love music in the first place. This isn’t just an EP. It’s a reunion, a healing, a celebration.

We no fit young again, but with music like this, we’ll always have reasons to celebrate.

Till next time frens,
Celebrate yourself,
Ace.