Channels are what they are – an outlet, a vent, a sounding board… A place to let it all out freely or guarded but still a place to rant so you can feel lighter. I had one of those places, used it for all of two years, and then suddenly it was snatched from me by hackers. Yes, I ran a weekly blog called the underdog series with OJA. I published every Friday and I kept at it for two years even on days I didn’t feel like it. Surprising myself each week with my commitment, consistency, and grit and then all of a sudden it was no more. At first, I couldn’t explain the emotion I felt. I could say that I was angry, and frustrated but somewhere in the mix was the feeling of relief. Yes, I felt relief from this commitment to an assignment that no one had sent me to do in the first place. Now I had a legit excuse for the committed readers who asked why I had stopped. Like they would smack me if I had stopped without a legit excuse. But the truth is that while I felt relief, I still miss it. My channel even though it was rough around the edges but it was still mine, my vent, my place. A platform where I could talk about anything and issues that bother me and the far-reaching implications. Then it was taken from me. I could have tried to reclaim it for a fee or even recreated another I still may but I’m undecided yet. Now I’m here ranting as usual to no one in particular and a little more guarded than I would usually be. Trying to see if I could use this platform as a substitute for my channel but still bound by the unspoken decorum that is associated with this space. But with clarity, that my passion to write hasn’t waned but what I am most afraid of is the pressure that comes with the commitment to a defined frequency. Hence, I will not put myself in a box some people may disagree and say it is good to be consistent but I say I remain unboxed. Hence, I will write when and how I feel like it and that could be daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly. But I will do me so that this channel will be what it was meant to be and not a box that I’m trapped in. I understand that some things are meant to have a rhythm and consistency for them to be effective but not my writing. Cheers to all the people trying to stay consistent but struggling. Just know that you are not alone and you probably don’t need to. XoXo OJA

The restart button only exists in the world of games, virtual reality, gadgets, and the like. But when it comes to reality, it’s a concept that seems to elude us. Every season in our life, we start up something extraordinary – a project, a diet routine, a gym routine, a writing routine, and so on. But suddenly, we break the pattern or stop entirely, usually for different reasons. Some are legit, and some are not so much. We sometimes stop because we didn’t see the results of our hard work soon enough, or sometimes we stop because we were overwhelmed by the feedback we got or couldn’t cope. It becomes very frustrating when we stop a project or routine that we seemingly did well at. And after a few, the yearning to go back and restart returns. The desire grows and sits in our minds daily, but it isn’t strong enough to help us restart. So, we feel stuck with this desire that seeks to consume us if we don’t take action yet numb each time we try to move into action. And we keep looking back to the heydays when we kept at it and told ourselves we would restart but never do. The days become weeks, the weeks become months, the months become years, and we eventually give up or forget how to. All that momentum we built is gone with the break, and then we sit by the sidelines and watch other people thrive at the things we probably know how to do better than they do, but just because they stayed consistent, they are winning. Here I am with this yearning that won’t go away, but there’s no action from me to satisfy the yearning. Am I confused? Am I transfixed? What’s with the endless procrastination? How difficult can it be to restart what I know I can do, what I have done before, and what I know is good for me? I guess that’s life or is something stopping me, like my Village people in some coven mouthing gibberish chants to stop me – how ludicrous. The restart button is not like the start button; no, not at all. The start button has no memory. It is fresh, new, and devoid of the ghost of failure surrounding the restart button. The start button usually has the company of other starters whose passion and zeal combine to fuel the start, but this is not the case for the restart button. There are no companions; it is a lone ranger devoid of fuel.  The truth is that no matter how long I analyse or try to understand this situation, the answer is that the only way to restart is to restart. If only there were a restart button we could conveniently push, if only…

Creativity has always been a deeply personal experience—a space where we pour our thoughts, feelings, and imagination into something uniquely ours. For years, my creative process involved long stretches of solitude, late-night musings, and an intimate relationship with words. Poetry was my refuge, a place where I could express myself freely without the need for validation. But in the past few years, a powerful shift has occurred. Artificial Intelligence (AI) has entered the creative arena, and while some embrace it wholeheartedly, others—like me—have struggled to find a balance between traditional, personal creativity and this new technological frontier. As someone who has always valued the slow, organic process of creation, the idea of using AI to assist or even co-create felt like I was betraying something essential to my identity as a writer. I know I’m not alone in this struggle. For those of us who have spent years honing our craft, there’s a certain pride in saying, “I made this.” It’s not just about the final product; it’s about the journey—the late nights, the moments of doubt, and the eventual breakthrough that comes when inspiration finally strikes. The thought of handing over part of that process to AI can feel like we’re losing control or, worse, devaluing our own work. AI tools are becoming increasingly sophisticated. They can write poems, generate stories, and even analyse emotions to create compelling narratives. But for people who, like me, value the raw, unfiltered act of creation, AI can feel impersonal. It’s a tool, yes, but one that seems to remove the artist’s hand from the canvas. For a long time, I resisted using AI in my creative process. I told myself it wasn’t for me, that real creativity couldn’t come from a machine. I was fiercely protective of my own methods, even as I saw others around me embracing AI with open arms, producing work faster and with more precision. There was an internal battle between wanting to stay true to my roots and recognizing that the world around me was changing. However, something changed in the past year. I started exploring AI in the context of digital technology and realized that, just as the world evolves, so too must we. The truth is, AI isn’t the enemy. It’s a tool—much like a pen or a paintbrush—that can enhance creativity if used mindfully. The key is to strike a balance between what we create with our hearts and what we can enhance with technology. One of the lessons I’ve learned is that AI doesn’t have to replace traditional methods. It can complement them. For instance, AI can help with brainstorming, idea generation, and even editing, leaving the core creative process—where our personal voice and style shine—untouched. The struggle lies in finding a way to integrate AI into the creative journey without feeling like we’ve compromised our authenticity. I began experimenting with AI in small ways. I would draft a piece of writing and then use AI to explore different iterations or angles I hadn’t considered. To my surprise, it didn’t detract from my work—it enhanced it. Instead of seeing AI as a threat, I began to view it as a collaborator, a tool that could push me to think differently and explore new creative possibilities. Finding this balance wasn’t easy. It took time and many failed attempts, but eventually, I learned to embrace the fusion of creativity and technology. My process evolved, and in that evolution, I discovered that AI wasn’t an adversary to my traditional approach; it was a bridge to new possibilities. It allowed me to experiment and push the boundaries of what I could create without losing my voice. For anyone who feels hesitant about using AI in their creative work, I encourage you to take your time. It’s okay to hold on to tradition, to value the hands-on process that defines your art. But also remember that AI doesn’t have to diminish your role—it can amplify your creativity, providing new tools and perspectives that you might not have considered otherwise. I still cherish the process of writing by hand, of sitting with my thoughts and letting the words flow naturally. But I’ve also come to appreciate the moments when AI can step in to offer a fresh perspective, to help me refine my work without taking away from the essence of what I’ve created. And now, as I prepare to launch my new book, this blend of creativity and AI has become a part of my evolution as an artist. My book, a culmination of my thoughts and experiences is a story that I hope resonates with others who, like me, are finding their way in this rapidly changing creative landscape. As I move forward, I realize that it’s not about choosing between tradition and innovation; it’s about finding harmony between the two. And in that harmony, the possibilities are endless.