Opinionated – one of the thousands of words, phrases and clauses by which I have been described in this one lifetime (my favourite is sapiosexually attractive). Being opinionated means I have something to say about anything and everything – sometimes in an annoying fashion, but however you may feel about it, here’s my opinion on an interesting topic.
Everyday we encounter different kinds of people, some are extremely nice and would even go out of their way to try and help someone else to have a better day; there are others who appear to be indifferent to the dynamics of whatever plays out around them. Then there exists a certain group of people who exhibit bad attitude, behaviour (and every thing bad you can imagine) – these are not the people I want to talk about. My focus is on those who have terrible attributes and are proud of such.
I remember a certain lady who was having a conversation with my aunt one evening and she began bragging about how she was a very capable mouth when it comes to hurling insults at others, and she even said she’d drop her baby if necessary and start a fight.
I also remember meeting this very pretty young lady and starting up a conversation with her, but I was saddened by how many times she said “I am not a nice person” while describing herself. She claimed she is a rude person and she thinks she has a superiority complex over others around her – including me (what a joker, huh?!).
So that brings me to the question I want an answer to: what happened to what our parents tried to teach us?
My parents taught me (among other things) the importance of being nice. How? By adding nice to the description of someone I find likeable. Example is the very nice Rev. Fr. Mathew Oladokun. I wanted to be like him and be addressed as nice, and that has helped me in many ways.
There were myriads of advantages to being “nice” (as it were) and weirdly, I seemed to notice how the death of a person was seemingly more painful if people described the deceased as nice or easy going above all else.
But not anymore, today everyone wants to be “bad”, ladies walk around frowning so that they’ll be unapproachable, some of us even make up stories about ourselves so as to sound like someone terrible or what else – because we have accepted these maladies as the new cool.
So that brings me to the question I want an answer to: what happened to what our parents tried to teach us?
My parents taught me (among other things) the importance of being nice. How? By adding nice to the description of someone I find likeable. Example is the very nice Rev. Fr. Mathew Oladokun. I wanted to be like him and be addressed as nice, and that has helped me in many ways.
There were myriads of advantages to being “nice” (as it were) and weirdly, I seemed to notice how the death of a person was seemingly more painful if people described the deceased as nice or easy going above all else.
But not anymore, today everyone wants to be “bad”, ladies walk around frowning so that they’ll be unapproachable, some of us even make up stories about ourselves so as to sound like someone terrible or what else – because we have accepted these maladies as the new cool.
Our generation is one that has been accused countless times of being what we are not: stubborn, recalcitrant, unwilling to learn ... and the list goes on, but over time we have all collectively and in an unspoken way enjoyed proving the older generation wrong (apparently, not anymore).
In a manifestation of how badly we have sunk, I personally do not care how many turn out in this generation – my concern is the future generation whom we have the duty of nurturing – something we cannot do well like this.
Long story short, let us make the leanest effort to change.
To be continued...
Be nice to one another.
Be nice to one another.
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