MISCONCEPTION

I have had issues with many people about misconception and it seems everyone has been at the receiving end of its effects. I have as well been a victim most times. That though, does not mean it is something I am giving up on. It is something I have always tried to erase from my path.

That said, there are more questions than answers on misconception. What actions lead to misconception? When do people start having misconceptions about you? How do we tackle misconception? What if your attempts fail?

The answers to the above questions vary and may better be provided based on individual experience(s). So if you find it difficult to agree with my points, I tender my apologies. You can provide your thoughts in the comment box.

What actions lead to misconception?

Image

You may have thought pleasing everyone is a sure way to earn yourself the “humble” tag. I think (I mean ‘think’) you are wrong. When you try to please everyone, they tend to take your behaviour as natural. And this, against your bargain, will work against you when you act like your real self. I am a victim of this.

Being unnecessarily quiet is another way to give people the wrong feeling about you. When you fail to talk at the right time, people may take your silence as ‘yes’ to a situation to which you would have said ‘no’. This does not mean that you should talk all the time. It is your duty to find out if the person you are dealing with understands what your silence means.

Lying

A few lies may save you from big trouble you know? (That’s if you are not religious and hell doesn’t scare you anymore). However, you may need a thousand more lies to ‘buttress’ one lie. This case will make people believe what is not real about you as long as you are able to provide enough cover up for your initial lie. You are not doing yourself any good.

Not being yourself will not help you either.

There are many other actions that make people have wrong belief about you. You can help in the comment section.

When do people start having misconceptions about you?

People will start to have mistaken beliefs about you as soon as you give them enough reasons to do so. To be straight, it will be as soon as you exhibit any of the above actions.

For example, I used to have a friend who copied another person’s post and changed the characters. The post was awesome that I had to ask him about who edited it for him. He told me it was original and that no one edited it for him. I had to copy the first paragraph of the post and google it, (you have to forgive me for the doubt). I knew better after consulting google.

When I told another friend about it, he simply said that I was gullible enough to believe my other friend. I simply answered that I never doubted him until then that he gave me a reason to.

So when you pretend, keep quiet unnecessarily, live to satisfy everyone, tell lies, you are giving people the green card to have false beliefs about you. And you may have to regret it after all.

How do we tackle misconception?

I heard about an illustration sometimes ago and I will use the same here. Imagine your friend and you are travelling to Lagos and Abuja respectively in different cars from Benin. You choose to take the same route as does your friend. Knowing that you are wrong, you continue following him until you get to Ore, then Ijebu-Ode. After you are told that it is not the way to Abuja, you think of the distance and decide to continue in the wrong way. Now this is it, if you don’t turn to Abuja, the more you go, the farther away from Abuja you will be. So, until you stop doing what gives people wrong impression about you, people will continue to have false beliefs about you. And that isn’t something you want to give a testimony about in the next thanksgiving service in your church.

What if your attempts fail?

Yes, you may have gone too far in making people believe the unbelievable about you but if your attempts fail you, you can always try again, trying different measures. For example, if you have told your friend that Adolf Hitler’s mother-in-law is your wife’s great grandmother and your friend is beginning to see you as someone with ties to Third World War, you will have to do a lot to convince him, otherwise, your name might just pop up someday on the list of people threatening world peace.

So if you do anything that gives fallacy about you, try as much as you can to stop it or at least reduce the frequency at which you do it.

Wishing you all the best in 2014.

I am @me_ablad

Image source: google.com

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Friday 6th December 2013,
I lay in my bed like a log of wood,
And stared into my phone screen without seeing anything.
I had enough airtime to burn,
Yet fewer people to talk to,
I could’ve called dad to joke as usual,
But joke, hmm, that was a no go area,
Because he was home,
Sitting beside you and using,
A serrated old hand fan,
To blow natural air to you,
Or singing some melancholy song,
To serenade you to your final home,
Your final home…
I could’ve called my aunt too,
But she, loving you like no one else,
And being your only daughter,
Was on her way to the village,
To meet you and give some love,
As she always did.
In anger, I shut down my Nokia phone,
You may know that phone, you should,
The one I used to call my youngest uncle, your youngest son,
Who seemed, in a long time, to have strayed,
Like bullets from the barrels of some drunken policemen,
So you talked to him, to come home for some important purposes.
The poor boy, he didn’t even come home, or did he?
Until, probably, your final journey into the mother earth.
I always prayed,
That your home-call, If it was time,
Should be quick and easy.
Aunt had told me how grave your sickness was,
How you had been saying things. Things.
Things that had no meaning to the mortals,
Perhaps you had been seeing the other worlds,
Perhaps you had been talking to the angels,
Perhaps your spiritual driver was wasting your time,
And making you suffer.
Suffer.
That I least wanted,
Not for someone like you,
Someone whose love was felt,
Like the cold harmattan breeze of December,
Tearing into the lung, into the heart,
Making us shake and wear thick cloth.
Such was your love.
Still in bed, my door opened without knock.
Amidst my tiredness,
I turned my head to see who it was,
It was my younger cousin,
He came in and said,
“Grandpa is dead”
That was sad news, was it?
I opened my mouth,
Unable to say anything,
And heaved a deep sigh,
Hmm, grandpa,
I am going to miss the moments we had together,
And so many things about you.
Can you remember some three months ago?
When I came home,
You said if you died then,
It wasn’t a sorrowful one,
You believed you had come and conquered,
You believed you were fulfilled.
When I was very much younger,
You told me about the civil war,
That one day, on your farmland,
Bending over an old cutlass,
And tilling a piece of land for planting,
Some Nigerian soldiers came around,
And asked you for some water,
Then you willingly supplied it,
But I wrote this, to tell the world,
That I had a grandpa, who was worth having,
So your death, coming like an inevitable groom,
For his bride,
Took you away from earth’s many troubles,
So we couldn’t be sad,
Because we are sure,
That you are at home,
The paradise,
And by the silent streams of heaven,
In a vast garden of awesome flowers,
There a hammock of comfort,
Bears you up, to a space of comfort,
Please, Baba Morenikeji Elijah Adekanmi,
Rest in the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ,
I am your grandson,
Adekanmi Abiodun Solomon Alao.

Friday 6th December 2013,
I lay in my bed like a log of wood,
And stared into my phone screen without seeing anything.
I had enough airtime to burn,
Yet fewer people to talk to,
I could’ve called dad to joke as usual,
But joke, hmm, that was a no go area,
Because he was home,
Sitting beside you and using,
A serrated old hand fan,
To blow natural air to you,
Or singing some melancholy song,
To serenade you to your final home,
Your final home…
I could’ve called my aunt too,
But she, loving you like no one else,
And being your only daughter,
Was on her way to the village,
To meet you and give some love,
As she always did.
In anger, I shut down my Nokia phone,
You may know that phone, you should,
The one I used to call my youngest uncle, your youngest son,
Who seemed, in a long time, to have strayed,
Like bullets from the barrels of some drunken policemen,
So you talked to him, to come home for some important purposes.
The poor boy, he didn’t even come home, or did he?
Until, probably, your final journey into the mother earth.
I always prayed,
That your home-call, If it was time,
Should be quick and easy.
Aunt had told me how grave your sickness was,
How you had been saying things. Things.
Things that had no meaning to the mortals,
Perhaps you had been seeing the other worlds,
Perhaps you had been talking to the angels,
Perhaps your spiritual driver was wasting your time,
And making you suffer.
Suffer.
That I least wanted,
Not for someone like you,
Someone whose love was felt,
Like the cold harmattan breeze of December,
Tearing into the lung, into the heart,
Making us shake and wear thick cloth.
Such was your love.
Still in bed, my door opened without knock.
Amidst my tiredness,
I turned my head to see who it was,
It was my younger cousin,
He came in and said,
“Grandpa is dead”
That was sad news, was it?
I opened my mouth,
Unable to say anything,
And heaved a deep sigh,
Hmm, grandpa,
I am going to miss the moments we had together,
And so many things about you.
Can you remember some three months ago?
When I came home,
You said if you died then,
It wasn’t a sorrowful one,
You believed you had come and conquered,
You believed you were fulfilled.
When I was very much younger,
You told me about the civil war,
That one day, on your farmland,
Bending over an old cutlass,
And tilling a piece of land for planting,
Some Nigerian soldiers came around,
And asked you for some water,
Then you willingly supplied it,
But I wrote this, to tell the world,
That I had a grandpa, who was worth having,
So your death, coming like an inevitable groom,
For his bride,
Took you away from earth’s many troubles,
So we couldn’t be sad,
Because we are sure,
That you are at home,
The paradise,
And by the silent streams of heaven,
In a vast garden of awesome flowers,
There a hammock of comfort,
Bears you up, to a space of comfort,
Please, Baba Morenikeji Elijah Adekanmi,
Rest in the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ,
I am your grandson,
Adekanmi Abiodun Solomon Alao.

Friday 6th December 2013,
I lay in my bed like a log of wood,
And stared into my phone screen without seeing anything.
I had enough airtime to burn,
Yet fewer people to talk to,
I could’ve called dad to joke as usual,
But joke, hmm, that was a no go area,
Because he was home,
Sitting beside you and using,
A serrated old hand fan,
To blow natural air to you,
Or singing some melancholy song,
To serenade you to your final home,
Your final home…
I could’ve called my aunt too,
But she, loving you like no one else,
And being your only daughter,
Was on her way to the village,
To meet you and give some love,
As she always did.
In anger, I shut down my Nokia phone,
You may know that phone, you should,
The one I used to call my youngest uncle, your youngest son,
Who seemed, in a long time, to have strayed,
Like bullets from the barrels of some drunken policemen,
So you talked to him, to come home for some important purposes.
The poor boy, he didn’t even come home, or did he?
Until, probably, your final journey into the mother earth.
I always prayed,
That your home-call, If it was time,
Should be quick and easy.
Aunt had told me how grave your sickness was,
How you had been saying things. Things.
Things that had no meaning to the mortals,
Perhaps you had been seeing the other worlds,
Perhaps you had been talking to the angels,
Perhaps your spiritual driver was wasting your time,
And making you suffer.
Suffer.
That I least wanted,
Not for someone like you,
Someone whose love was felt,
Like the cold harmattan breeze of December,
Tearing into the lung, into the heart,
Making us shake and wear thick cloth.
Such was your love.
Still in bed, my door opened without knock.
Amidst my tiredness,
I turned my head to see who it was,
It was my younger cousin,
He came in and said,
“Grandpa is dead”
That was sad news, was it?
I opened my mouth,
Unable to say anything,
And heaved a deep sigh,
Hmm, grandpa,
I am going to miss the moments we had together,
And so many things about you.
Can you remember some three months ago?
When I came home,
You said if you died then,
It wasn’t a sorrowful one,
You believed you had come and conquered,
You believed you were fulfilled.
When I was very much younger,
You told me about the civil war,
That one day, on your farmland,
Bending over an old cutlass,
And tilling a piece of land for planting,
Some Nigerian soldiers came around,
And asked you for some water,
Then you willingly supplied it,
But I wrote this, to tell the world,
That I had a grandpa, who was worth having,
So your death, coming like an inevitable groom,
For his bride,
Took you away from earth’s many troubles,
So we couldn’t be sad,
Because we are sure,
That you are at home,
The paradise,
And by the silent streams of heaven,
In a vast garden of awesome flowers,
There a hammock of comfort,
Bears you up, to a space of comfort,
Please, Baba Morenikeji Elijah Adekanmi,
Rest in the peace of our Lord Jesus Christ,
I am your grandson,
Adekanmi Abiodun Solomon Alao.

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