All my life I had to fight and all my life I must

I’m not much of a fighter, but now I realised that I absolutely need to be. The other day I wanted to repair my shoes, they literally just needed glue. I went to Levingers in Lonehill. I give them my shoes and they tell me it’s going to cost R200 – two shoes for glue. I’m taken aback by this, but I think whatever let me pay. The costs of finding another place will add up, also I’d been procrastinating on it for a while. After paying they tell me it’s going to take 4 days. I was shocked, R200 and 4 days for glue. But I’d paid already, so I swallowed my disappointment and I left.

On my drive home I remember thinking of the things I just accept because conflict and inconvenience give me ulcers. The reality of it is that I’ve never had these ulcers and maybe it’s time for them. Everything started feeling so personal.

I ruminated on being a gay man and how that came with the struggle of my identity being fingered. The endless teasing where I had to puff my chest out to defend myself in the face of ridicule. I thought about how tough I had to be in fighting that battle. I got used to it, I got stronger every day and it worked out. As anyone would tell you, it’s not easy, even though it gets better. It’s a fight with yourself and everyone else.

Then I started thinking about a very dark time at my last company. I worked for a trash company that kept losing human resources, and the work would always fall on my lap. I remembered how I just took the abuse and never complained, never fought back, never said HELL NO. I bowed out of that company, same way I did with the shoe place. With my tail between my legs, like a helpless dog. Which is fitting because I was worked like a dog.

Now I’m sitting with all these thoughts and I’m having an ‘enough is enough’ moment. I am so done! This is not happening anymore. I’m going to get very uncomfortable and sick to my stomach every single time I’m taken advantage of. I’m going to get all the ulcers. Everyone gets to be happy but me. I am the one who has to go through these should’a-would’a-could’a motions. I am so done!

There’s no grace in this. It is becoming clear that I have crippling pride. It’s pride that’s marinaded and soaking in shame. The shame of appearing not to afford R200, the shame of being gay, the shame of appearing incompetent and unwilling.

There’s a quote somewhere out there about comfort being the undoing of us all. I’ve suspected that that’s the thing that’s been holding me back. In comfort there is no grit, there is no courage. It is Maya Angelou who said ‘Courage is the most important of all the other virtues. Without courage you will not be able to perform the other virtues.” There’s so much truth in this. You have to courageous to seek justice. You have to be courageous to have faith. I also remember something that my late grandmother said. She identified something in me. Told me that I needed to be brave in my life. I asked her what being brave meant, she said it’s to trust God and his promise to you. A wise woman! This is how I’m going to honour her! Grit all the way!

Post script

This outlet is so important to me. This post is a clear sign what the issue is. It take humility to share. Also I’m reading a book by Brené Brown – I thought it was just me. It’s giving me much insight to the tapestry of my life. Looking forward to sharing.



Rude bosses

One of my directors was so rude to me today! It was awful! I couldn’t deal. Fell into a spiral of depression for a little bit. 
“The way people treat says a lot more about them than it does about you.” isn’t enough. Sometimes all you just need is to say ‘fuck you’ to someone and your heavy heart will rest easy. But you can’t can you? 
A few weeks ago I read a story about a woman who was arrested after taking a dump on her boss’s desk after winning the lottery. This, I believe, is the result of a thousand pending fuck yous. 
What then do we do until we win the lottery? How do we suffer through the piling fuck yous? I know for sure HR does not have the capacity for every single instance of sheer rudeness. So what then? 
Sigh, growing contempt is a terrible burden on anyone’s soul. We’re going through enough. I have to let go, I have to always let it go, for my own sanity. It’s the best I can do for now.

I’m so awkward and I can hide it

Am I the only one who’s made incredibly awkward by a colleague waiting for them when they park in the morning?


This is the curse of being gregarious. It attracts social lepers from all walks of life. The small talk alone is enough to give me nausea causing anxiety.


When I see a colleague waiting for the lift I take the stairs.

When I see a colleague parking, I bolt out of my car.

Dry work functions? You can miss me!

I don’t even go the loo when I see a colleague headed there.


I’m not wired for forced interactions.


This mask of joy I wear is causing me great pain.


*resting bitch face lessons pending*

More on insomnia 

So I can’t sleep. I’m going to share all my thoughts in bullet points. 

This is in no particular order. 

  • It’s hard making new friends.
  • I hate making plans in the weekend, plans are for week days the weekend is not for plans.
  • A shrewd woman is far more effective than a shrewd man.
  • I hate instances of sulking over fixable things.
  • Monogamy is systematic repression.
  • I wish I could drink more and get away with it.
  • Hedonism is making a come back.
  • I only ever imagined getting married for money.
  • Are you wasting time or taking the scenic route?
  • Not as many thoughts come to you when you consciously think of something  to think about.
  • I might have just cured over thinking.
  • Mind, body and soul.
  • Michelle Pfeiffer is lowkey a mean girl. 
  • Do we have community theater in SA?
  • I love the idea of acting for fun.

I’m going to try sleeping. 

Bye bye.

Transgender Rights

After a long day, I put on some John Oliver and let the episodes just play on loop.

An episode on transgender people came up, please watch.

Transgender Rights: Last Week Tonight with John Oliver (HBO)

As with many other gay men I got my start in a closet (I like to call it my Bohemian Glass Wardrobe). I wasn’t in the closet though, I was put there; I was pushed into a corner by everyone around me announcing what I ought to be. Tales for another day.

A quick look into my sex history

I started out sleeping with women/girls/female/womyn. Then I started sleeping with men/boys/males, then I slept with females again, then males, back to females, then I was all over the place. I seem to have settled with men, but we’ll see.

The bigoted homosexual

I used to be scared to sleep with ‘feminine’ men – I say scared now because I understand shame. My language was so much more brazen and bigoted then. Even when I was ‘out’. As time went on I knew better so I did better.

At the height of my sexual revolution, I congratulated myself for being able to sleep with many kinds of men. Then I met a transgender woman, her name was Surprise (I wish I was making this name up). She was sweet and kind, and she gave me her numbers.  I thought to myself, here’s another milestone, you can do it, I thought.

I didn’t end up hooking up with Surprise. I want to say I chickened out, but really I was filled with narrow-mindedness and ignorance. I was now like everyone else. I sounded like everyone else who damn near ruined my sexual identity and all of me actually. I said real dumbshit, which I don’t care to repeat, about Surprise and transgender people.

It was all extremely invasive and crass. With my words I demeaned transgender people, I stripped them to meat bags, and empty shells. This is essentially what we do everytime when we use pejoratives to sexualise people we know nothing about.

See, as a gay mam the zeitgeist would sooner kill a transgender women before they spit at me. I’ve come to learn a few things about what transgender folk go through. This is world is actually unsafe for them. It is that bad. Please be kind. If you can’t mind your own fucking business. These really are the only two option.

Everyone is dying and it’s not stopping 

I’m at a friend’s father’s memorial service. Tomorrow I’m going to my grandpa’s brother’s funeral. It’s a lot of funerals. 

It’s been a long day. It’s freezing and I’m cold. I’m starving, the pangs keep getting worse. But so what? People are dying and it’s not stopping. 

There are kids at this memorial, kids with a conscious and those without. I look at them and they don’t look any different from anyone around me. It’s the spring in their step puts a smile on my face.

There’s a man talking. I listen sometimes. He seems passionate. He’s sharing anecdotes. Tales of the past. Shared memories. It’s all he has because that’s all that’s left.

I don’t like funerals. I’ve been to many, and I don’t like them. No one really knows how to be. Everyone wears the same face. The face of loss. It’s bare. It’s solemn and every one is dying and it’s not stopping. 

Looting. Is it really worth it?

Looting seems so dangerous and exhausting and stupid. I wonder if it involves any planning. Do you leave your house knowing which shops are hot spots?

First you have to compete with other looters for the stuff you want. They could have experience and need it more. There you are reaching for butter and you get elbowed in the throat because it’s the last one.

Then you must run with all that stuff. I mean, how do you even know your level of fitness for running with groceries? Then a lazy, or smart, looter trips you and takes all your stuff.

Don’t forget the popo! Damn popo! If they find you it’s so over. Oh popo love beating looters. Rightly so. I actually want to beat them too. I mean fuck is wrong with you? This ain’t no crazy sale. Have you lost your mind?

And then, because it’s 2015, you get caught on camera and images of you are all over the Internet because you wanted free shit. The humiliation.

Don’t loot guys. It’s not worth it.

P.s. Please listen to Baltimore by Nina Simone. Such a beautiful song.

P.s. My manager is like “You don’t have to come in today. But I’ll really appreciate it if you do.” Like…I don’t know if I want to be appreciated.

19 Struggles Of Having An Outgoing Personality But Actually Being Introverted

Introversion Effect

Like many categorizing systems, the separatist thinking behind them attempts to firmly place us in one container or another.  The flaw in these types of systems is that they don’t always take into account the middle areas of the spectrum.  And any system is just that: a spectrum.  I’ve long stated with unequivocal certainty that I’m introverted.  My friends, however, look at me askance, because I’m actually very fun-loving and outgoing when I need to be.  So on that introvert/extravert spectrum, I fall somewhere to the introverted side, but exhibit limited extroverted tendencies.  Here is an article found on Thought Catalog by Brianna West that I have updated to reflect this: 

1. You’re not anti-social, you’re selectively social. It’s not that you don’t like going out, it’s that you are very choosy about when, where, and for how long. 

2. At any given point, you have one (maybe two)…

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18 Things We Should Have Been Taught As Teenagers

Thought Catalog

1. Hard work will not always equate to success. You can put up a good fight and still lose. There are just some things that, for whatever reason, we have to carry with us.

2. There will probably come a day when you want to study something that has (seemingly) no future benefit. Study it anyway. There will probably come a day when you want to be with someone who you know won’t last forever. Love them anyway. There will probably come a day when you want to leave something, or someone, and instead of looking for a reason, you should let that wanting be enough. Go anyway.

3. You shouldn’t ever assume to know the truth about someone. Addiction doesn’t always look like a drug-addled homeless person on the street, mental illness isn’t always apparent, pain does not always read across a person’s demeanor. Don’t judge people on the…

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From A Guy’s Perspective: 9 Things We Want Out Of A Relationship

Thought Catalog

Friday Night Lights

1. Someone Who Gets Us In The Weird Ways

Not on like a deep, sappy emotional level. That too I guess, but really just someone who understands that we hate it when people have to mention the fact that they liked the book better than the movie, or that we don’t like it when people stand up on airplanes the second the plane lands.

It’s the acknowledgement of those little things that makes it not so much as relationship as it does a really fun time with someone who’s fun to hang out with. Speaking of…

2. Someone That’s Ridiculously Fun To Hang Out With

I would say this is by far the most important thing. Great looks are nice and physical attraction obviously helps, but looks alone are exactly like having a tricked out car that breaks down after a few weeks — good for a few rides, then…

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