We were awoken this morning by our parents at 6am. To us, it was just another day, perhaps the last day of the week before going christmas shopping with mom and dad this weekend. "Sweetie, it's time to get ready for school." screamed my mom. After having breakfast this morning, little did we know how the day would end. We kissed our parents goodbye and entered the school bus.
At 9:05am, our first period began. It's funny because all through, I was thinking of what Santa had planned to get me this christmas. Then tragedy struck; at 9:40am, a young man who could have been the size of my uncle walked into my class. Our first period teacher never informed us of the possibility of having a visitor this morning, so we calmed down. Suddenly, this 'calmed faced man' brought out a riffle and began shooting at us. So we started screaming for help. I wished it to be just a nightmare, but it was real, this man was determined. He continued shooting, until I saw my best friend bleeding profusely. A minute later, my crush, whom I cared for and dreamed of marrying one day was suddenly lifeless, lying in a pool of blood.
The school officials must have heard the gunshots. Suddenly, Mrs Hochsprung walked in with our vice pricipal and school's psychologist in an attempt to save my fellow classmates. But this man meant business; he turned to them and opened fire. All three fell to the ground immediately, but somehow, the vice principal was able to crawl outside the class after suffering gunshot wounds on his leg.
With a blink of an eye, I saw this man point the riffle at the rest of us standing at the back of the room. This was the point we knew it was over. We felt pain, helpless and hopeless. I thought of my family, I wondered how my parents and siblings would take this. I thought of the plans we had for christmas; how my cousins had called me last night that they were excited to come spend christmas with me in Connecticut. I wondered how my mom would take this. She would fall apart. I begged God to hold her for me, confort and make her strong for me, I prayed the same for my friends. Then we started crying and screaming, the tears gave us headaches. Multiple bullets landed on our chests, heads, legs, back, hands and eyes. At that point, I became numb. I tried to reach out for my friends, but I was too weak to move. All I saw around me was blood. As we tried to help each other, I wondered who would give up first. But suddenly the pain stopped. Then I couldn't hear any other thing, but silence. I thanked God. The pain was over and we were finally at peace in heaven. At that point, I knew God only chooses to take his best.
RIP to all the victims of Sandy Hook Elementary School.
With love and my utmost respect,
LazioM.A.N
Friday, December 14, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Differences In Cultures
Last month, I had the opportunity to attend a wedding in Houston, Texas. My experiences led to some nostalgic moments that have inspired me to write this blog. While I waited in line at the reception to get some dodo and Jollof rice, I could not help but activate my aggression (battle of the fittest) mode to ensure I was not cheated by other Nigerian guests waiting in line. Upon arriving home, I pondered on why I had been so aggressive while waiting in line, in spite of the fact that my aggression remains passive at predominantly American weddings.
I believe there are two types of aggression; passive aggression and active aggression. The passive aggression is that form of aggression that I have observed in American culture, more specifically, the Caucasian culture. When faced with difficult or chaotic situations, I have observed that Caucasians here tend to have a calmer way of responding to danger. By 'calmer," I mean having a concise view on things. To further explain, I will share an event I experienced a couple of months ago. Over the summer, a close friend of mine got married in Detroit. The wedding was suave; service was short and concise, reception started on time and everyone strictly adhered by the rules without any complications. Yes, it was an American wedding. I was more impressed by the fact that people shouted less, followed orders more, argued less, agreed more and ended the event at the right time. While dinner was being served at the reception, guests waited in line until they were called. In addition, I never heard anyone complain about another individual's greed or cynicism. At the entirety of the event, I was in my 'passive aggressive' mood.
Some months prior, I had just arrived in Nigeria to spend the Christmas. On the night of Christmas, I visited my cousin and decided to take a taxi commonly known as 'Cabu-Cabu.' Prior to boarding the taxi, I had done my research on the prices to ensure I wasn't cheated. Halfway through my ride, the driver stretched his hand to the back and asked all the passengers to pay. He shouted, ' E sanwo e mo'wo yin wa (pay now and give me your money).' I put my hands to my wallet and handed the driver 30 naira, the cost of my trip from Oju-ore to Fowobi station. When the driver approached Fowobi station, I ensured he was aware that my stop near. Upon our arrival, the driver told me I could not leave since I had not paid. I was shocked. I proceeded to telling him that I paid my fees halfway through the trip, but he disagreed. That was when I lost it, my 'active aggression' was activated. Here, there was no 911 to call. I proceeded to take matters to my own hands, and prove to the driver I could be crazy when push comes to shove; to leave the taxi without paying an extra dime. Just as an argument was about to exacerbate, another passenger decided to speak up on my behalf. He said, " Baba, he paid you when everyone was paying.' That was his saving grace. When I returned to the US, I thought about how I was ready to risk my life for 30 naira ($0.19).
That was active aggression. The type of aggression that most often projects itself with boistery and physical confrontation. I've experienced this too many. During my years as an undergraduate, I recall attending meetings with fellow African students. Within minutes of having a heated debate, we would gesticulate and shout until other people told us we were too loud.
As I conclude, I am yet to figure out why I was 'actively aggressive' while waiting in line for food at that wedding. Then it dawned on me, I was surrounded by Nigerians, even in Texas. I do not condone any of these cultural differences. Given the fact that I find myself at the cross-roads of Afrocentricity and the western culture, I embrace them and inculcate these two different characteristics defined by two separate societies to my advantage at needed times.
E pluribus umum; out of many, one. These observed differences have brought more unity than differences around the world. It has not only allowed us to appreciate the diversity in skin color, but also the way to project our mannerisms. Now I understand the saying, 'you can take the boy out of the village, but can't take the village out of the boy.' We are defined by our identity.
Sincerely,
LazioM.A.N
I believe there are two types of aggression; passive aggression and active aggression. The passive aggression is that form of aggression that I have observed in American culture, more specifically, the Caucasian culture. When faced with difficult or chaotic situations, I have observed that Caucasians here tend to have a calmer way of responding to danger. By 'calmer," I mean having a concise view on things. To further explain, I will share an event I experienced a couple of months ago. Over the summer, a close friend of mine got married in Detroit. The wedding was suave; service was short and concise, reception started on time and everyone strictly adhered by the rules without any complications. Yes, it was an American wedding. I was more impressed by the fact that people shouted less, followed orders more, argued less, agreed more and ended the event at the right time. While dinner was being served at the reception, guests waited in line until they were called. In addition, I never heard anyone complain about another individual's greed or cynicism. At the entirety of the event, I was in my 'passive aggressive' mood.
Some months prior, I had just arrived in Nigeria to spend the Christmas. On the night of Christmas, I visited my cousin and decided to take a taxi commonly known as 'Cabu-Cabu.' Prior to boarding the taxi, I had done my research on the prices to ensure I wasn't cheated. Halfway through my ride, the driver stretched his hand to the back and asked all the passengers to pay. He shouted, ' E sanwo e mo'wo yin wa (pay now and give me your money).' I put my hands to my wallet and handed the driver 30 naira, the cost of my trip from Oju-ore to Fowobi station. When the driver approached Fowobi station, I ensured he was aware that my stop near. Upon our arrival, the driver told me I could not leave since I had not paid. I was shocked. I proceeded to telling him that I paid my fees halfway through the trip, but he disagreed. That was when I lost it, my 'active aggression' was activated. Here, there was no 911 to call. I proceeded to take matters to my own hands, and prove to the driver I could be crazy when push comes to shove; to leave the taxi without paying an extra dime. Just as an argument was about to exacerbate, another passenger decided to speak up on my behalf. He said, " Baba, he paid you when everyone was paying.' That was his saving grace. When I returned to the US, I thought about how I was ready to risk my life for 30 naira ($0.19).
That was active aggression. The type of aggression that most often projects itself with boistery and physical confrontation. I've experienced this too many. During my years as an undergraduate, I recall attending meetings with fellow African students. Within minutes of having a heated debate, we would gesticulate and shout until other people told us we were too loud.
As I conclude, I am yet to figure out why I was 'actively aggressive' while waiting in line for food at that wedding. Then it dawned on me, I was surrounded by Nigerians, even in Texas. I do not condone any of these cultural differences. Given the fact that I find myself at the cross-roads of Afrocentricity and the western culture, I embrace them and inculcate these two different characteristics defined by two separate societies to my advantage at needed times.
E pluribus umum; out of many, one. These observed differences have brought more unity than differences around the world. It has not only allowed us to appreciate the diversity in skin color, but also the way to project our mannerisms. Now I understand the saying, 'you can take the boy out of the village, but can't take the village out of the boy.' We are defined by our identity.
Sincerely,
LazioM.A.N
Friday, October 12, 2012
Education vs Real Education
A
few weeks back, one of the attending ER physicians saw me reading the book "Warren
Buffet Thinks Like a Girl" by the Motley Fools. He seemed surprised to see
me reading the book but never uttered a word. A few hours later, he came back
to me and said, “If I were you, I would quit medical school. If you really
believe in all the books I see you read, I would never pursue a career in medicine.”
I was shocked. When I asked him why, he told me there was no real money in
medicine, besides, he takes too long to make ‘medicine’ money.
This
was the beginning of a semi-lengthy conversation that got me thinking. Several
questions ran through my mind. How can an attending physician tell me not to go
to school? How can he tell me school is a waste of time if I really want to be
financially successful in this world? But he was right. Even the books I read
are a testament to his advice. How many big time game changers earned a college
degree? The likes of Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Dell, the owner of the Virgin
Atlantic and many more businessmen make this list. These men only needed a
vision, plan and capital. Today, they are bosses to some of the most educated
men in the world.
To
execute big projects, you need capital. I mean HUGE capital. The ER physician proceeded
to confirm the difference between him and I; he has a huge capital to execute but
I don’t. Before we ended our conversation, he advised me to read other books to
reaffirm his statement. I was puzzled, very puzzled. A week later, I found
another book I had always wanted to read in a friend’s library.
A
couple of weeks after our initial discussion, the ER physician asked me if I
had changed my mind. I replied, “no”, and I gave my reasons. His reply, “I
think you can achieve that goal faster if you don't become a physician, unless
you really want to treat patients.” That was where he got me. Don't get me
wrong, I love money, but I want to make money doing what I enjoy. Medicine to
me is not an end; it is a means to an end. Bestowing the gift of health to
individuals should not be motivated by money. A passion should be observed in
the practice. Yes, the degree looks fancy, but I believe the effective application
of my medical education would hold more value. My reasons for going into
medicine….. that's a topic for another day.
Reading
these 'self help' books have enlightened me for over two years. But it wasn't
until that very moment I thought about the difference between education and
'real education' (that's my definition by the way).
We
have heard in previous times that 'knowledge is power.' I believe there are two
kinds of knowledge; general knowledge and specialized knowledge. General
knowledge, no matter how great, is of little or no importance to the
accumulation of money. The departments of great universities possess
practically every form of general knowledge known to civilization. Hence, most
professors and teachers have little to minimal money generated in their
lifetime. They specialize in teaching knowledge but do not focus on the organization
and application of that knowledge.
I
think it is important to note that knowledge will not attract money, unless it
is organized and intelligently directed through practical plans of action, 'to
the definite end of the accumulation of money.' Lack of understanding of this
fact remains one of the fundamental sources of confusion to people who falsely believe
that knowledge is power. I say knowledge is only potential power. It becomes
power ONLY when it is organized into definite plans of action and directed to a
definite end.
Moral
of the story: Before you decide to get an education, have an end in mind. That
way, posterity has no regrets.
Sincerely,
LazioM.A.N
Thursday, September 6, 2012
The Story Behind the Lazio brand
During a medical school interview, the
interviewer asked me a question I’m often asked a lot, but wasn’t expecting at
the time. She asked, " What's the story behind Lazio 'everything.' I
smiled, paused and downloaded the story. Here goes the story:
I was an 8 year old boy living with my family in an economically and educationally underserved town called Ewekoro, Nigeria. Compared to Lagos, Ewekoro was fairly unpopular; but it had the fresh air, beautiful trees and landscape that Lagos longed to have. I must say the only economic power in Ewekoro was cement. That was its natural resource, hence, the cement factory.
I was an 8 year old boy living with my family in an economically and educationally underserved town called Ewekoro, Nigeria. Compared to Lagos, Ewekoro was fairly unpopular; but it had the fresh air, beautiful trees and landscape that Lagos longed to have. I must say the only economic power in Ewekoro was cement. That was its natural resource, hence, the cement factory.
Back to my story, all the boys shared a
room, and so did the females. It was during our male bonding
in Ewekoro that my brother began to call me 'lalazo.' Everywhere I went, he called me that name, although I had no idea what he meant. Before I knew it, all the boys in the house called me Lalazo. Three years later, I carried this nickname to my boarding school. By the end of my first term in boarding school, all my housemates called me 'Lalazo.' It's funny because neither of us knew what it meant. I guess it’s time to ask my brother.
in Ewekoro that my brother began to call me 'lalazo.' Everywhere I went, he called me that name, although I had no idea what he meant. Before I knew it, all the boys in the house called me Lalazo. Three years later, I carried this nickname to my boarding school. By the end of my first term in boarding school, all my housemates called me 'Lalazo.' It's funny because neither of us knew what it meant. I guess it’s time to ask my brother.
I turned 15; I decided to change the name
I had been called for 7 years. I needed to rebrand, hence, LazioM.A.N. By the
time I became a 12th grader, teachers would comment on my report card by
saying, "Good job LazioM.A.N' or 'LazioM.A.N put a great effort in class
today.' My fascination for Lazio has nothing to do with the Italian soccer team;
in fact, I am a strong Arsenal supporter (13 years strong). As I grew older,
the Lazio brand followed my businesses and devotions.
In the summer of 2009, Lazio Tutoring was
officially established as a tutoring company dedicated to providing tutorial
services to students of all ages. I must say Lazio has brought me some good luck.
The lead tutor at Lazio was recently mentioned by National Youth Leadership
Forum on Medicine (NYLF/MED) as one of the most inspirational teachers by one of their participants
:)
Earlier this year, Lazio Tutoring established Lazio Foundation, a volunteer mathematics and science tutorial service for disadvantaged K-12 students. We collaborated with other non-profit organizations
such as Rethink, Millions4One, ImageCasts and Life Transformation
Center.
Earlier this year, Lazio Tutoring established Lazio Foundation, a volunteer mathematics and science tutorial service for disadvantaged K-12 students. We collaborated with other non-profit organizations
such as Rethink, Millions4One, ImageCasts and Life Transformation
Center.
Next, is Lazio barbershop. Yes, Lazio
barbershop.
So the next time I’m asked why Lazio ‘everything,’ I reply. It has brought me good luck, plus I love it.
Lazio.......the
world is yet to see.
Sincerely,
Sincerely,
Friday, July 20, 2012
Enjoy the game!
It was around 4pm on that sunday evening when I drove my car with a family member into one of the poorest counties in the U.S. Little did I know my summer experience in this little town would change my life forever. Ten minutes after my arrival, I stepped into Bromley, my home for the next 6 weeks. This was the beginning of my medical journey. I remember my Uncle whispering to me, work hard, but play hard. Playing was easy, but staying focus was the challenge. Nevertheless, I was determined to succeed. My uncle opened my folder and said, "I see you will be taking Gross Anatomy." When I heard this, my heart sank since I had never had any experience with Anatomy, talk less of cutting cadavers open. This fear caused me to develop a stress- release outlet, my sister. I can tell you she didn't see this coming. After settling down in my room and meeting my colleagues, I decided to take a walk on a street perpendicular to court street. I reminiscized about my past struggles, my fights against failure and this opportunity to prove myself. An hour later, I was ready to win by all means. Through blood, sweat and tears, I had two options; go hard or go home.
I had never met so many smart and intelligent people in my life. Everyone had a story and wanted to show how intelligent they were. My nervity increased when I saw this, so I decided to give my all, make the best of friends and enjoy the game. Within a couple of days, I developed friendships with several colleagues that would become memorable. We woke up at the same time, went running together, ate together, studied together, went to classes together and did every other thing together besides taking a shower together.lol.
I remember cutting my first cadaver open. At first, I was so fearful that the cadaver might show up in my dreams at night. By the end of the first week, I was eager to cut more cadavers open and I had no doubt that bestowing the gift of health was my life's calling. It was like doing surgery on a patient. After our first round of exams, we all found ways to celebrate our successes. We had all spent at least 8 daily hours of studying but we were never jaded. I hated the process of studying, but I loved it. I hated the stress, but I loved knowing that I was not in it alone.
Six weeks later, my life had turned around. I made friends from different cultures and was excited to be part of the process. Overall, I realized that success is less of a result but more of enjoying the process towards one's goals.
Moral of the story: Enjoy life and never give up!
Yours Truly,
LazioM.A.N
Saturday, May 19, 2012
FE(male)
In my previous article, I mentioned some views and
psychological factors that affect the way men and women think. Say for example,
a guy meets a girl, woos her, uses her and dumps her; he succeeds in his game
of enchantment and tells his buddies of his recent accomplishment. The lady, on
the other hand, thinks about the situation differently.
As the guy begins to do things to impress the girl, she
begins to evaluate. In the process of evaluation, she discovers his strengths,
weaknesses, capabilities, failures, and success, what works for him and what
does not. She connects to his emotional side and brings out his emotional flaws
without his realization. This tells why most women say that men are such
‘babies.’
When the guy eventually sleeps with the girl, he celebrates
his pseudo-victory and tells his buddies. However, the girl sees it
differently. First, the girl is filled with grief and hurt, thinking of how she
had began to trust to trust the guy only to end up with a broken heart. The lady says, “You think you have won, but
you haven’t. All the while you were talking to me, I was evaluating you and
looking for ways to truly understand you. You rejoice amongst your friends in
sleeping with me, but you forget that I allowed you to sleep with me.’ The girl
continues, “Remember you begged and I ALLOWED you to sleep with me in the first
place (except for rape cases).” As a
result, the lady makes some strategic moves not to show the guy that she is a
winner, but to send a message that she has more understanding and manipulative control of the human than he
does. Below are series of events that would be expected to take place:
1. 1. She tells her confidant/best friend about the
situation. She says, ‘Can you believe it? The guy I was talking to finally
slept with me and left me. He thought he could get away with it. I thought he
was a man, but he has only proven that he is a boy. This shows that he cannot
handle a woman like me.’
2. With this
belief, the woman concludes that the guy is incapable of handling bigger and
other serious issues of life. The girl tells her friend, who tells another
friend et al. It’s just a matter of time that a community of female friends
would discover the guy’s reputation and code him as a player.
So when the same guy approaches other girls in the circle,
they listen to the ‘sweet talk’ but eventually tell other friends. They say,
‘can you believe it, that BOY tried to talk to me after all he did to my friend.’
This is why we see many cases of highly reputable men who become infamous for
sexual atrocities. We have seen cases of Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinski, Tiger
Woods, Kobe Bryant and the mistress, Herman Cain and his pizza accusers and
several others. The women involved in these cases do not care about winning or
losing, In fact the monetary reward they get is secondary to their understanding.
Their ultimatum is to prove to the men involved that they have the ability to
understand men and manipulate their presumed thoughts.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
WOmen 1
Happy New year guys...Miss me yet?
Recently, I found myself thinking and pondering about the human being. I began to wonder why men think differently from men. Why do men see things differently, why do they act different? Talk differently? And react differently? My curiosity led my research and my results have led me to share the things I will reveal in this blog. Big thanks to Brains!
Growing up, I always wondered why my sisters fancied feminine materials. I wondered why my mom’s interpretation of situations was different from my dad’s. And I wondered why my female cousins were more emotional than their male counterparts. You see, history and modern society has always placed similar gender roles (with the exception of a rural society in western India) that eventually define who we grow up to become. As young boys, we are taught to be wild, aggressive, competitive, spontaneous and win by all means. We are taught to do everything to win or lose; the process of getting there is of lesser value.
However, little girls are taught differently. At a young age, a little girl begins the process of understanding the human mind. She tries to understand how the body, soul, and spirit of a human being work. Thus, we see the connection to her emotional side. While the young boys are busy playing soccer, a female is concentrating on Barbie dolls, using them as tools to figure out the subconscious part of the human mind. The girl’s fundamental goal is not to win or lose, but to understand how the ‘human being’ works.
A decade later, the little girl becomes the beautiful teenager/young adult while the little boy becomes the handsome guy. At this stage, both sexes begin to attract. When a young man sees a beautiful lady, neurons in his brain are activated to recognize the beauty. The guy’s first question is “how do I win over this girl?” or “How do I make her mine?” Without realizing it, the guy’s ultimatum is to win over the girl. If the guy were to be a player, his ultimatum would be to sleep with the girl. I will go with the player’s point of view henceforth.
When the player/guy makes his moves to win the girl’s heart he makes all little tricks to woo the girl, gets her number and ‘sweet talk’ her into the honeymoon period. The main goal of the guy, precisely a player, would be to sleep with the girl. So if the guy finally sleeps with the girl, he considers himself a winner of the game. But if he doesn’t sleep with the girl, he considers it a loss.
When the guy begins to ‘sweet talk’ and woo, the woman, on the other hand, thinks way beyond. She begins to ask herself, “Is he a ‘man’ enough to handle me, my wants and my needs?” While the guy is thinking about winning, the lady is trying to understand how the guy works; she begins to activate the subconscious and humane part of the guy. As both individuals begin to spend time together, the lady continues her quest to understand the man. In the process, she finds out his weaknesses, strengths, likes, dislikes and so forth. This is why a woman knows what to do to get a man to ultimately do what she wants him to do. Why? She has understood the man.
Going back to the case of the player, let’s say the player succeeds in winning his game of enchantment a.k.a sleeping with girl; he tells his buddies and discusses his most recent accomplishment. The lady, on the other hand, thinks about the situation differently. How?
I’ll explain in my next blog.
Yours Truly,
LazioM.A.N
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