the desperate kingdom of love

Has there ever been one thing you thought you loved with all your heart? Something you thought you couldn't live without? Something you thought you'd do absolutely anything it took to keep? Did you keep it? Did it cost you everything to keep it? Was it a person? Did they feel the same way about you? Was it worth it?

My story's not over yet, it's still being written, but I once thought I did. Not too long ago. I thought I had someone in my life that defined me. That made me who I was. I don't know if I still do. And the limbo is eating me up inside. I know that because I'm up at 4AM writing this on a weeknight. And, because my heart aches. Physically, it aches. And the worst thing is, I don't know that I did everything I could to keep them. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Or I gave up for a reason that's unjustifiable.

I've been reliving those moments over and over again. There's a lot of stuff I could have said. A lot of things I could have done differently. Had I tried, I think this could have gone a completely different way. I think I wouldn't be here right now. But I think it wouldn't have been real. It wouldn't have been complete. I think I would have ended up always wondering - what if I hadn't tried? Would we still be together? Would it still be as natural? I know relationships are supposed to be work, but exactly how much work is too much work? Anyway, like they say: when you go away for a short time, and you come back, and your person tells you they suddenly stopped missing you, that something's definitely changed, I think you're screwed either way.

I'm getting promoted at work tomorrow. Within the minimum time, just like we planned it, my boss and me. It's just further confirmation that this freight train that is my life is headed in the right direction. Just one more in a long string of fortunate events that means I'm totally blest. Ordinarily I'd be at the beach celebrating this. But for some reason, the human in me can't stop thinking about what I'm missing. What I'm likely going to be missing for a while. There's a lot of things that are right with my life, but I think the one thing that's wrong with it, biggest thing that's wrong with it, is that my life is not a movie. And that I don't write the scripts. And it doesn't have a soundtrack. I often find music cures a lot of situations. Or it just helps me escape. I've been listening to a lot of Dido lately. 

And, everyone's not perfect. Not even close. Me included.

I guess you really can't have it all, all the time. We all have a dark cloud hanging over our heads. I know it serves a purpose. I know a certain darkness is needed to see the stars. But then I also know those stars are not bright enough to overcome it. This girl in my all time favorite show was having a rough time with everything around her at some point. She was an artist for fun, so that's how she expressed herself. So she got up one weekend and painted her entire house white. Said she thought she'd "...paint the shadows away." How cool would it be if it were that easy to wipe pain away? They say our biggest regrets are not for the things we did, but the things we didn't do. Not for the things we said, but the things we didn't say. Does this darkness have a name?

So this guy used to play basketball. And he was the best. Then he got shot in the ribs or stabbed or something. He survived, but had to go through therapy for a while. And he sort of started losing his game. But before everyone knew it, he started playing again. He forced himself. And he trained harder than everyone to get his form back. One day he's hard at it and he's bleeding from his injury when a teammate walks up to him and asks him what his secret is. Where does he get the strength to endure the pain? And he says he doesn't really have one. It's just resolve. "One day, you just start shooting and deal with the pain later." If only that's all it took.

END

you're a runner, and i am my father's son

Jacob had 12 sons. Joseph was his youngest, and was his favorite.One night Joseph had a dream. They were all out harvesting corn, and the other 11 brothers' sheafs bowed down to his. He told them about it, and they laughed at him. Then the next night he went and had another dream: this time the sun, the moon and eleven stars all bowed down to him. His father called it an abomination. But God was making him a promise. One day, all these people you see around you will bow down before you.

The next thing that happened was, as we all know, Joseph's brothers, being exceedingly human, sold him off into slavery and told his father that he was dead. Just like that. One night, you dream you're going to be king, the next night, the people you will supposedly reign over sell you off into slavery, never to be seen or heard from again.

I think this tells us one very fundamental thing about God's promises to us, something we don't always remember - he promises us a happy end. He does not promise us a  smooth ride there. On the contrary, we know we shall get tested. And that it will be very difficult to hold onto the dream. This is what the guy at church last week was speaking about. It was one of very few sermons that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

It's been a rough two months. And I have found myself questioning this promise of prosperity. Both about myself and about my parents. I've always known this in principle, but now I think I know it for a fact - the government is the most thankless employer. You have to be cut out of a special cloth to have a successful career with those people. 

On this random day about two years ago, I woke up to continuing soft sobs from their room. It was my mother sobbing. I immediately thought the worst. I've written here before that you don't want to hear your mother crying, I meant it, coz I've been there. So I quickly rushed over to see what was going on. It turns out, it was something that had been building up over time, and had just come to a head that weekend. My dad had thrown himself into his work coz they gave him a school to run that basically wasn't a school, so he had to build it from the ground up with his own hands literally sometimes. In the process of giving his all to his employer, he dropped the ball a little on the home front. Or a lot. So my mum had been feeling neglected. She felt he didn't care that much about her and she wasn't number one anymore. And a lot of things had happened in between also to drive this impression further in her mind.

Anyway, he didn't get four stars and a big bonus in appreciation of the stunning results he delivered. Because it cost him part of his marriage, but he did deliver. No gold crown for him or anything. He instead got shipped off to the back of beyond to start all over again. With even more trials and tribulations. And he loves challenges so I guess maybe that in itself was reward to him. So of course he went. And from what I'm hearing he's taken the troubles as his own children. Like he always does. And he's my icon so I'm partly on his side, so I said to my mum what Khalil Gibran would have said, "Let him be. He's being the change he wants to see in the world." And then she asked, "But while he's out there changing the world where am I?" I didn't really have an answer.

It took a very long time, and in the interim he had to go to jail even, but Joseph finally got elevated by Pharaoh above everyone else in the kingdom but him. And when the rest of the world didn't have any food for 7 years, Egypt prospered under Joseph's watch. And so it came to pass that his father and eleven brothers did end up bowing before him. Just as he'd dreamt a hundred years ago. Just like God had promised him. God does not promise us a smooth life. But he does promise that the plans he has for us are plans to prosper. Plans for good and not for evil. And that everything will work together for good for them that love Him.

I don't know if a lot of people know this, but Rick Warren's wife suffered breast cancer and had to have a double mastectomy. During the ordeal, he came out and said, "I used to think life alternates. I used to think it was a series of valleys and hills. That after every period of suffering will come a period of comic relief. I don't anymore. I now believe it's like a railway track. There's good, and there's evil. And they run together in parallel. Which you focus on is entirely up to you." I'm trying to find the good in everything that happens to me.

END

i taught myself how to grow old

The story goes: two newborn babies are lying side by side in a hospital and they glance at each other. 90 years later, through remarkable coincidence, they find themselves lying across from each other on their deathbeds, and they glance at each other again. "So what did you think?" asks one to the other.

Everything remaining constant, it's going to be a very long time before any of us has to answer that question. But I think life is made up of milestones, and I think the way it works is certain milestones come quicker than others. Past a certain age, everything happens at lightning speed. And I think we've passed that age now. Time shifts into overdrive and from here on out everything's gonna fly past in the blink of an eye. So if you had to answer that question today, what would you say?

I learned from my father at a very young age that in life you will only ever get entrusted with as much as you show yourself capable of handling. The way I understood it at the time is that there were going to be standard tests sort of every so often, and if you pass one then you'd have earned the right to move on to the next (bigger) stage. School was definitely like that, and I blew past that. But as far as the rest of life goes, I've been thinking about it, and I think maybe there's certain stages I may have missed out on.

When I was in primary school there used to be occasional scandals where a boy would look at a girl, fall in love with them, and of course, being 13, would go and write that girl a little love letter telling her how his heart quavers like the West African  tom tom drums every time she walks by. And the girl would read it and hide in her desk so she could read it again and giggle silently, then like clockwork she'd do it during class and the teacher would see her, ask for it, and call them both forward and call them little devils and unfocused and failures and everything you can think of in primary school that means you're not going to amount to much in life. Then proceed to cane them to high heavens. See I was a winner in primary school, so I never did any of that. That was for those other mere mortals. I actually remember getting special mention for being the only guy who hasn't yet fallen prey to this evil that is attraction to girls. [not in those exact words] I was proud then. I'm not so sure now. I think that attitude that I developed then set me back some.

I have a friend now who used to be someone completely different when he was in high school. He's the guy that never went to any class on time. He was huge. He had a afro. Played rugby. Snuck out of school and went to clubs. Watched racy movies on the school library TV at midnight. He's the one every girl would gravitate towards during functions because he had such interesting stories to tell. He was the cool guy. He was the bane of everyone-in-authority's existence, but he was the idol of every other person (namely the rest of the students). So he had some tough times. Got suspended. Went to jail a little bit. Clashed with his parents. But still made it through high school in one piece. And then later on got serious about life and became like me. Became the person I've always been. I listen to him speaking now and he's been through so much that I think he's got a much stronger composition than I have. He sounds like he's a hundred years old and he's only my age. I sound like that too sometimes, but it's coz I watch TV and read. He's been there. He's literally seen it all. And he's still standing. So I'm wondering if the bubble I lived in left me weak. I seem strong. I seem like I'm doing well. But truth is I've never really had to stand against any adversity. How would I fare? He'd definitely eat it all up and get up the next morning for more. Would I?

How many moments do you have in your life that you can look back on and say "That's when it all changed." Do you even have any? I'm not sure I do. I think when I was 12, you could look at me and predict where I'd be when I was 22, and you'd more likely than not be right. Now don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. My life's trajectory has probably been constant because it's never had to change. God's been good to me all my life. I'm not sure I'd want it any other way. But Bill Gates says success is a lousy teacher; it seduces smart people into thinking they can't lose. "I failed at some subjects in college. My friend got everything right. He's now an engineer at Microsoft." So I can't help but wonder, if I hadn't been so successful the first time round; if I had been the cool guy instead of the smart guy, would I be a different person right now? Have I missed out on any larger purpose?

END

deterioration of the fight or flight response

How do birds do it? Fly thousands of miles halfway across the world and still find their mark? And come back again in spring when it's nice and warm. Wildebeest? How do penguins do it? They live in the snowy mountains. Everything's white and looks like everything else. How do they figure out where home is? How can they tell they're going in the right direction? And how do they never get lost along the way? And the very first time, how do they know they've arrived, never having been where they're going before?

When you can't see the future, when you don't know what dreams may come, when you're not sure whether or not this was supposed to be The One for you - how do you know when it's time to stop fighting and let go? I don't want to be that guy ten years later looking back wondering if I threw away a lifetime of happiness over a stubborn disposition. But I also don't want to be that guy who turns the other cheek and says "Please, slap me again." I like to think when I have a stand to make, I'll be able to get the courage to make it. And for the rest of my life I'll be able to live with my choices. But it's just so damn hard without knowing.

Two things I know about myself that I didn't a year ago: I'm not chauvinistic, but I do like to be made to feel like I'm in charge. I hate it when people don't make sense. I hate it when something's so obvious to me but other people can't seem to see it. I hate everything that's not rooted in logic (so naturally I love my blog). And two, I'm a needy person. And I'm not as strong lonely as I thought I was. When I fall for someone, I fall hard. Hard. So in a sense, I'm just like everyone else. I'm really not the superman I thought I was.

So I'm at that point now. We got into a fight, repeatedly. The same fight. And if you ask me, what's at the root of it all is respect and compromise. I feel I keep bending over backwards, and she doesn't meet me halfway. She feels I'm rude and I don't respect her or treat her like a queen. We've been here before. And we got through it every time. But I think we got through it because I was always willing to extend an unconditional olive branch. I think I give and I give and I give, and I don't know if I can live like that for the rest of my life. It's supposed to be a cycle, is it not? Now you give, now you receive. If it just keeps being one-sided, I think one of the people will lose themselves. And maybe some people are fine with that-personalities differ, right? But not me. The third thing I know about myself, and have always suspected, is that I have to be allowed to BE me. I've won too many times at too many things in the past to doubt myself.

I saw an episode on one of my all-times (One Tree Hill) where Andy and Lucas' mum were breaking up. He was moving back to Australia coz Dan got him deported, and she wouldn't go with him even though she seemingly didn't have a reason not to. So as he walks out the final time she's like, "Andy, I love you, you know." And he goes, "I know, Karen. But somehow that just doesn't seem to be enough." And he walked away. Right now, I know where I wanna go with this girl. I just don't know how to get there. Or if it's worth it anymore to even try. I need help.

END

remember to call at my grave

"Being black is not a matter of skin pigmentation. Being black is a reflection of a mental attitude." Steve Biko

A lot of things changed for me when I moved here. Two things, however, stood out more than anything else: how rooted in their culture the black people here are, and how sensitive the issue of race is. 

The latter I totally didn't understand. I looked around and saw people in their 20's, people who don't have the same story Mandela has, or even Raymond Suttner, decry apartheid and how the white person ruined their lives, and I belittled in my mind these people, because from where I stood, they were just using past injustices as an excuse to be mediocre. They weren't old enough to see the worst of what apartheid did. By 1990 they were maybe 3 or 4. They shouldn't know about apartheid. Yes it happened, but it happened a hundred years ago and it happened to different people. I heard black people complain about how the ANC (the "black" party) was no longer doing anything for them, but come elections, they still automatically vote ANC. And I stupidly thought, if you know the DA (a "white" party) would do do a better job, why not vote them in? This interracial animosity I sensed everywhere was totally unfounded, I thought.

I've seen enough now to know the error of my ways. How naive I was. I couldn't possibly have been wrong on more levels.

As I've looked at the history, through a combination of stories from the older ones amongst us, visits to the Apartheid Museum, and countless documentaries on TV, I've started to find that the fundamental mistake I made was to judge a situation I had no insight into, and to judge it through my very narrow scope. I have started to realise that there isn't a limit to how much damage mentally oppression can cause someone. When you grow up and everyone around you tells you you won't amount to much, that you'll never be any better than you currently are, that you can't rise above a certain level, that you're systemically inferior and not worthy of a good life, I guess you believe it. Those limitations become the fabric of your thought. Your glass ceiling becomes a granite wall. You stop dreaming. There's not many things in the world more damaging than seeing your life stolen from under you and being completely powerless to do anything about it. 

One of the pictures I saw at the Apartheid Museum that killed me was of a train station, with I think a train waiting, and there was a whole bunch of black people standing on the one side crowding, obviously looking for transport, but because the station was marked "FOR WHITES ONLY" there was nothing they could do but stand out in the cold. And the caption read something like, despite the fact that there weren't any fences or police presence enforcing segregation at the station, those black people could not even conceive of crossing over to go into the train waiting. That's how strongly imbued into their minds the apartheid system was. The fences were now in the minds of the black people, there didn't need to be any physical ones.

And this is the thing that made me least qualified to judge - I've never had that feeling of being trapped within my own mind. Being shackled by invisible chains. The kind you can't break not because you really can't, but because you don't know that you can. I grew up believing I could have it all. I grew up with that sense of entitlement. My parents made sure they were there every step of the way, supporting me, making me feel like I was superman. To some measure I've seen people's hard work pay off for them. I've even seen a determined people change their government just because they came together. The black people of South Africa, they didn't have that for a very long time. Steve Biko said the most powerful weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.

When I was growing up, I read about Rosa Parks refusing to stand up for a white person on a bus. And to me that was literally all she did. It sounded simple enough. I didn't get what all the hoo-hah was about. But I realise now that to the people that know, there aren't enough words to describe the symbolism, the empowerment, that came from such a basic act. And from a natural act like Nelson Mandela unconditionally forgiving his former oppressors after 27 years in jail. I am beginning to understand now why he is such a legend. Not just because he forgave, but because of WHO he forgave. There's a phrase that plays in a loop at the Apartheid Museum, a recording from the conclusion of the Rivonia Trial, at which Mandela and his cohorts were to be found guilty of treason and possibly sentenced to death. I have not been able to get this line out of my mind since I heard it.

I have fought against white domination, and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons will live together in harmony with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope to live for, and to see realised. But my Lord, if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die.

And so I don't judge anymore. I don't judge because I cannot possibly understand. I don't judge because I've never been through what the people in SA went through. On the contrary, I marvel sometimes at how grounded it's made them. At how fiercely strong they've grown to be in the face of such adversity. At how being black has to them become something much more than just the skin color it is to me. If I can learn that from the, I will leave here having become a much better person than I came in.

Sarah Britten is a modern-day writer of note, and she wrote a story recently that covers just this subject. She said, "...we seem incapable of resolving conflict without resorting to racist generalisations. Somehow, if we see bad behaviour, we immediately attribute it to race rather than a failure of character; every time somebody behaves like a total doos [dumbass], the entire premise of post-apartheid South Africa goes on trial..." The first time I read it I agreed completely. I felt as though she had read my mind. But when I think about it, I'm not so sure anymore. Maybe race keeps coming up, and will continue to keep coming up, because it's just that big a deal. Maybe it keeps coming up because those wounds just run that deep.

END

what comes after the blues?

Do you ever get the sense you've been down this road before? When you watch TV does that hot new show feel played out? Like you've seen everything there is to see? Been everywhere there is to go? Done every vacation that exists? Like nothing can take your breathe away anymore? Like no matter how astounding technology gets, the glass ceiling's already broken and it's never gonna be as great as it was that first time?

When I was eleven, we left our small-town roots for the first time and went to celebrate Christmas in the big city. Nairobi. I was in awe of everything I saw. I looked around and saw lights going round and round in endless circle. I saw the public Christmas tree in the middle of the city and I'd never seen such a big one before. I saw the skyscrapers and as my eyes followed them all the way up there to infinity I wondered who built them so tall, and how they stood up there, and how come the wind didn't blow them left and right like it did trees. Billboards. Malls. Housing estates with multiple phases. Supermarkets three floors big. Fast food joints. Clubs and cinemas. Traffic lights. More people on the streets than I'd ever seen in my life. I drank it all in with glee. And then later I moved there and all that became the fabric my life was made of. I didn't notice any of it anymore.

And then I turned 22 just as my team and I won a national competition that meant my team and me were gonna go to New York. The greatest city in the world. The one that never sleeps. The heart of the land of opportunity. And just like that I became 11 again. Times Square. Subways. McDonald's. Broadway. Brooklyn. Yellow cabs. One-way streets. $1 hotdogs from food carts on the streets. Pizza so large you eat it in slices. The Blade Runner, Remastered. Radio Shack (I actually bought my first mp3 player, a Sansa, there). Our hotel was actually in Manhattan. 891, Amsterdam Avenue. It's one of those things I'm just never gonna forget. It was like I'd died and gone to heaven.

And then four years later they told me I was moving to Johannesburg. I still remember my first experience landing here. Never mind that I wasn't a child anymore. I oohh-ed and aaahh-ed as we drove past the widest roads I'd seen yet, stacked neatly one on top of the other. Wide open spaces. Not a spec of dust in sight. Even the flower beds around compounds seemed not to contain any soil. They brought me to Sandton Central. And I got out and started walking around and admiring everything I saw. Swanky low-rise complexes. Large, pane-only windows. Trees interspersed so casually and so perfectly with the modern development the whole city looks from above like it's in a forest. Harley Davidson. Sports cars randomly driving past on the road like it ain't a thing. Hot water taps that actually had hot water flowing from them. Street lights that worked. And made the N1 look like a stairway to heaven as it receded into the horizon in the calm of night.

The first time at anything is always the greatest. Because your imagination gets stretched. Because you're seeing something completely new. Something much like a miracle. Something akin to poetry in its wonder and magic. Because you become like a child again. Every other time I've gone to new places (and there have been a few) I've seen it, how everything looks like I've been there before. I get excited for two minutes and then it's back to business as usual. It's a little scary, actually, thinking about how I'm gradually less and less impressed by new experiences. How it progressively takes more and more to get my attention. How I don't worship at the throne of Apple as much as I used to.

How fleeting life all is.

END

don't dream it's over

What do you choose when you have to choose between doing what you love and doing what works just to bring the bacon home?

I've been lucky on very many fronts through my life. But what I think is one of the biggest ways I've been blest is I've never had an eclectic passion that was shared by maybe three other people in Herzegovina. Everything I've loved doing has been something you can make a sustainable living out of. I've never had to choose to do a job just because I was getting paid to do it. Granted, it's still quite early in my life relatively, but I like the path I'm on. If the trajectory goes on this way, in 15 years I'll still love what I'll be doing.

The same cannot be said for certain people in my life.

I know a guy who loved music. Loved it with all his heart. He worked hard and cultivated great skill at it. He had natural talent so  it was never very difficult for him. He could write music. He could play any instrument you gave him. He could accompany any song by ear, never having heard it before. He wanted nothing but to do it for the rest of his life. But alas, he was born in the wrong country, at the wrong time, perhaps with the wrong vision. See he saw a world where all he would have to do would be to play what he loves playing, and every other piece of his life would fall in its rightful place. But that's not the way life goes.

And so he made some bad choices. Took some wrong turns. Got involved with the wrong kinds of people. Lied and cheated his way to hide misstep after misstep. Used and discarded anyone that wasn't wise to his act. Alienated the two people that loved him more than anyone else in the world. But through all this, the music was never touched. The music stayed constant. The music was always his beacon back to the light. It was always the moment when he really came alive. One day, his house of cards came crumbling down. Everything he had done, or not done, became clear. And he had nothing left to fall back on. The talent, as it rapidly became apparent, was just not enough. Passion wasn't the be all end all he'd been led [perhaps by the movies] to believe.

So he had to make a choice. Continue to follow his heart [to destruction], or follow the well beaten path. Go to school like everyone else. Get an education like everyone else. Get a job, like everyone else. I heard how broken he was by the time he came to this realization. How resigned he seemed. Like life didn't mean anything anymore. Dreams are powerful things, everyone says. But no one ever thinks about how dire the effect is of having to lose one. We only know of how powerful they are when they come true.

When you turn on the TV, or you watch movies, or you read magazines, all you hear about is how Justin Bieber's mum posted random videos on Youtube that Scooter Braun just happened to watch. Or how Mark Zuckerberg was just goofing around in his dorm when he ended up with a 800 million member juggernaut called Facebook. Or how Barack Obama really just wanted to make his community a better place, and he became the most powerful man in the world. No one ever tells you that for every one person like that, there's a million others who've tried and failed. A million others who were sometimes just a little better, only in the wrong place. A million others who were broken by life. Who lost hope along the way. Who somewhat paved the way for these ones who would come later to succeed. Who die just a little inside every time they have to look and see what could have been.

No one ever tells you how it kills the people that love them to watch them self destruct like this.

Anyway, he's now at the beginning of this new path. He's gone back to the drawing board and he's starting over again. Making practical choices this time. Doing everything by the book, hopefully. Maybe this time around, the fates will smile on him and he'll succeed. I hope so. With all my heart I hope so.

Remember when you were still a kid?  When storks delivered the babies and passions weren't so strong ...when recess was too short and life was too long...when decisions came easily without the need to belong...when friendships were un-broken...when right was right, and wrong was wrong...when bad things didn't happen...when the fun went on forever and never left a broken heart...when dreams were un-shattered and worries were few? But we had to go and grow up. Growing up is about losing things. It's about leaving things behind. It's kinda sad, really, when you think about it. Because one's never as alive as they are when they're young. The hardest thing about growing up is that you always have to do what's right; even if it means breaking someone's heart, including your own.

END

hurts like heaven

When you love someone, you wanna be there for them. You wanna be that rock they lean on. You want it to be you they think about when they get up in the morning, and when they go to sleep at night. You want to look up and see their face all the time. You find out what it means when Elton John sang about one heart beating in two separate lives. You never want to say goodbye. You never want to do anything else. You never want to see anyone else. You ask yourself what things you can do to make the time between you longer. You try to be things you've never been just so they can think of you as Superman. You do crazy things like get a fridge so you've got a place to stick all those photos of both of you. You rearrange your entire house. You stay up all night listening to Katie Melua sing about piano keys being a million colors in your mind. You learn to love the music they love. You change every little thing about you that you promised yourself you'd never change just to be a better partner to them. You compromise. You learn a new language.

When you love someone, they're a part of you. They become who you are.

And sometimes when you're the luckiest person in the world, you get all of that back from them. Or you hit a brick wall. Sometimes you hear not now. Sometimes there's not that perfect meeting of minds. Sometimes it's the spring of hope, sometimes it's the winter of despair. Sometimes you want more than they can give. Sometimes you're in paradise, sometimes you're hurtling down Dante's Inferno. Sometimes you stare at a bottle of Panadol wondering how much it would take to overdose.  Somtimes you don't want to go to sleep, because reality feels so much better than a dream. Sometimes you wish you could live forever just so you'd always feel the way you do, sometimes you wish forever could be severed by the sharp knife of a short life. Sometimes you stand in the rain and let it wash down you to see if it will wash away the pain with it.

But it's the most bittersweet pain. Because it's during those, the bleakest moments, that you realise just how great love is. When you're blasting through the sad songs, when you don't have words to describe how broken up you are, you remember the day you two met. And you remember the first time you knew you were meant to be. And you think about that time you skipped home like a baby, happy. It's when the person drives you nuts, and when you can't stand to be around them, or when you're so hurt so bad you don't think you'll ever come back from it, that you realise just how worth all of it they are. Tolstoy said you get gold not by growing it but by washing away from it all that is not gold. These moments show you everything that's not love, and in so doing, enable you to appreciate even more, cherish even further, love even deeper. You realise just how right Shakespeare was:

Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds.
It is an ever fixed mark, that looks on tempests, 
and is never shaken.
Love alters not with Time's brief hours, or weeks
but bears it out, even to the edge of doom.

And so you write them a little message telling them you'll love them for a thousand more years, and then you go to sleep and wait to see what tomorrow will bring. Hoping that whatever it be, there'll be two of you, facing it together.

END

as time goes by

Albert Camus once wrote, "You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you continue looking for the meaning of life."

So then how are we supposed to know we're happy if we don't know what happy looks like? And how are we supposed to know that if we don't look for the meaning of happiness? Or maybe this is what they meant when they said ignorance is bliss, that not knowing IS what happiness is? Anyway.

My life's changed so massively in the last three months, I can't even begin to explain. Some awesome, some not so much. I went from a place in my job where I was beginning to get uncertain what exactly I was going to show for all my work at the end of the year, coz my company is all about tangible results not really effort, to now actually having a few projects I can talk about. I went from being that guy in the department everyone was glad to have around because of my smart mouth to that guy who was always the scapegoat whenever anything went wrong because of my smart mouth (this was more coz of one person, but it's one of those things like that tiny hole in the bottom that sank the Titanic). I went from not knowing what to do with my Saturdays to now wishing there was three extra hours everyday because I just can't cram everything within the current time. I went from being that guy who was so fanatical about fitness I'd go to the gym at 9PM to being the guy who wouldn't even go on half-day weekdays because I think life's already tough enough. I went from being the guy who'd read a book a week to being the guy who's started 5 different books and not finished one of them because I don't seem to put as much stock in reading any more. I went from just getting by to being the happiest person in the world to being the saddest person in the world, and then did it all again the following week. And yes, as with all things of this nature, it all started with a girl.

I've learned that living takes so much more effort than we think it does, or should. And that if we don't exert that effort now, we're going to wake up when we're forty and wonder where the last 20 years went. I've learned that with someone to lean on, it's not that hard to get back up every single time you fall. I've learned that music and time really can make everything look better again. I've learned that fatherhood doesn't come naturally; not everyone's cut out to be one. I've learned that women are strong, stronger than us, I think. They can survive anything, they can face down life's hardest storms better than we can, but before they decide what color belt they'd like to buy, a whole bunch of kids have usually cleared high school. I've learned that taking the high road's not always the easiest thing, and, besides motherhood, may be the most thankless job in the world.

And I've learned that happiness really only does happen one day at a time. When I look back in 10 years, I probably won't be able to tell when exactly it all turned around for me, but I will know that for last 10 years, I've been happy. So I'm taking it as it comes. I'm not over-thinking everything. I've stopped looking gift horses in the mouth. I'm accepting all the little victories prima facie and overcoming minor hurdles one after the other and letting it all build up to one big (hopefully positive) picture. As I get older, I'm finding more and more that there's never a crisis that's still a crisis tomorrow. Maturity then must really be about recognising when it's tomorrow already and it's time to move on.

So I'm making this promise to myself

To think only the best, to work only for the best, 
and to expect only the best. 
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others 
as you are about your own. 

To forget the mistakes of the past 
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To live in faith that the whole world is on your side 
so long as you are true to the best that is in you.

I'm going to try and be like Albert Camus. I'm going to just live and let live.

END

the film did not go round

I wonder how princesses used to be able to tell when a frog was just a frog and when it was going to turn into a handsome prince. Because surely it must be unhealthy to just kiss frogs randomly and hope for the best, no? In fact, I know it is. Because I think I just kissed one, and it didn't turn into a beautiful princess. Or it did but preferred another prince. Either way, this story doesn't have a happy ending. 

How does it happen that a guy misreads a girl so deeply? Like they're not just on different pages, they're not even reading the same book? Why aren't all people made the same way, that if they do one thing they all do it with the same intention? Why are feelings so hard to turn off when it counts, when the stakes are really high, so to speak; and easy when it doesn't? Why would two people be perfectly matched in EVERY little way except the one that matters the most? And these people who tell us to wear our hearts on our sleeves, have they really ever had their hearts broken? And why does the freaking sun come up at 4??? These are some of the things that run through my mind these days.

I met a girl. I didn't like her at first, because we met and then didn't again for a while. But then the next time I did. I think I fell for her. Hard. And I thought she felt the same way. We exchanged numbers. We watched stupid ads on youtube. We sat and talked deep into the night. We went out and stargazed. I showed her my life and she showed me the township she grew up in. I made her listen to the music in my heart and she made me listen to the music in hers. I cheered her on when she was in the exam room and she cheered me on when I was in the firing room. We went for pizza. We had Krushers. We played around with doors with chain locks. We saw a film. We unpacked our pasts to each other. We were ourselves around each other. We were happy together, we were sad together. We shared our dreams with each other. We sat next to each other in front of the fire heater. We held hands. We gave each other little presents. We thought about each other when something amazing happened and we weren't together. We made each other laugh. We had inside jokes. We shared poetry. We debated accents and philosophies. We built each other up. We took pictures of each other, with each other. We connected. We slept. We woke up late. We made plans.

It was all like walking through a field of hopes and dreams. I told my friends about her, she told her friends about me. It was like we were made for each other.

Only we weren't. Or apparently I wasn't made for her. It's like I've lost something I never really had. It's literally like when you take a picture with an old camera, and the shutter clicks so you know the picture's been taken, but the film does not go round so it ends up not being recorded.

I heard this on TV once, that perhaps we all give the best of our hearts uncritically to those who hardly think about us in return. While it's not fair to say the one I gave mine to hardly thinks about me, it damn near feels that way.

There's lots of stuff we endure as human beings. This awareness that we have been blessed with, I think it is both our greatest gift and our worst curse. Because of it rejection's gotta be the hardest thing we ever have to go through; because we know not just what it's like when we're going through it, but what it would have been like had we not been rejected. And it's not just me that thinks that. 30 million owners of Adele's record agree with me.

Michael Jordan had a lot to say about life. And rightly so, he led a pretty amazing one. He says he became who he was because for every shot he made he missed a hundred others, and yet he kept on shooting. You miss 100% of the shots you don't take, he said. And I ate it all up. I judged everyone who let opportunities pass them by because they were too afraid to try. I belittled people who weren't willing to risk it all. Asked them derisively what their last thought would be if they got hit by a bus the next day. But now I think different. Now, I'm thinking: when you've only got one shot to take, and you take it and you miss, what's the difference?

If you're one of those people that looks for a silver lining everywhere, here's the one in this situation: I'm writing again... Or at least I hope I am.

END