Discovering my wanderlust...

In the main center in Grahamstown.

I had hoped to write this post sooner, but I have been extremely busy with work.

The Grahamstown’s National Arts Festival rolled into the Cape Times #ElectionsTrek and finally Elections itself. I have very actively lately complaining about how tired I am.

I am actually hoping to take off soon, but besides my complaints, my recently work activities did make me realise how fortunate I am.

I had never been on an aeroplane before until I was selected to go and cover the National Arts Festival in Grahamastown. The whole Arts Fest experience was so amazing and eyes opening, to quote the slogan it was “11 Days of Amazing”.

I won’t recap too much of what I did because I did write a live blog for work which you can find here, but it was a truly wonderful, sometimes stressful experience where I learned a little more about myself.

#Selfie I took this morning at the monument with the lovely #Grahamstown in the background #NAF16 pic.twitter.com/u8WHevGkkp

— The Lion (@thelionmutters) July 1, 2016

It was so great learning about a town that I had never been to, and if you ever want to learn about a town in a short span of time, the Arts Fest is it. You have shows across the town, and it forces you to be a little adventurer.

What I loved most about the whole experience was that it ignited this desire in me to travel more.

I’ve always had this desire to travel, but it did so in a completely different way.

I had only been back in Cape Town for about a week before going away another week-long work trip.

 It was part of the Cape Times’ election coverage where a reporter, a photographer and I travelled to a few of the smaller towns within our province to find out how people felt about elections.

It was enlightening because you are driving to towns, which people usually drive past.

We visited 5 towns in a week, and visiting these smaller towns made me appreciate them. I will never shy away from just stopping into a little town while on a road trip because you can never know what you might learn.

The people I have met through my trips, the stories I’ve heard and the experiences I had are all memories that I will never forget. All of these things have given me a greater insight into the world around me.

A super awesome friend and I are actually tentatively making plans to go on a Euro-tour in about two years, and I cannot wait. Sure I would love to go overseas before then, but I am not above hard work to get myself there.

I will definitely encourage others to explore the area and world around them because you never know what awaits, and for myself, it is something I look forward to exploring further.

Theo. Over and Out

HETEROBORIA – My Neologism

I am not even going to pretend that I am not weird, or a little of an oddball.

As emotionally exhausting, and alienating as that can be a lot of the time, it also gives me wonderful insights into things and allows me to look at situations from a different perspective.

A random strand of this is that I am a very creative person.

A unusual thing happened when I was on social media recently, and I came across someone’s twitter account. I instantly found myself developing a little online crush on someone (which is not the first time this happened) and so I scrolled through their account.

The more I scrolled the more the journalist in me was unleashed, trying to figure out if this person batted for my team - using their pictures and tweets to decide if there was a homosexual undertone to anything they put out.

I instantly became uninterested in this person when my research showed me they were heterosexual.

In my mind, their opinions on an array of subjects was no longer interesting. It lost that dynamic and complex layer of thinking that I had interpreted as being there.

The person just became another cisgender heterosexual male, who I am sure is intelligent, cool and has something that makes them idiosyncratic, but whatever that was I could no longer see it.

Something that made them stand out in my mind, vanished.

It was in that moment this new word pop into my mind – HETEROBORIA.

The word would come from putting the roots of heterosexual (hetero) and bored (bor) together to come up with this word –heteroboria.

Sometime passed and I still thought about this experience. The more I would come across someone on social media who I thought was interesting, would then become less so once I saw that they were heterosexual.

I was being a little tongue-in-cheek and made a picture of this Theo-ism (a theo-ism because my name is Theo and it is something I made up).

Once I did this, I spammed all my friends with my creativity saying “Look at how genius I am at coming up with this NEW word”. 

My friends indulged me, and appreciated how weird I was being, but while chatting with a fellow gay friend, he pointed out that a few days before he had experienced the same type of feeling.

He was having a chat with someone else and in this conversation he had ended up describing the feeling of heteroboria.

Besides feeling validated, I could only just laugh about it.

While this word is probably not going to redefine the use of the English language, and I will probably not receive any awards for it, I can at least appreciate the fact that my unique perspective on this allows me to come up with such eclectic things.

If nothing else comes from this, I can rest contently knowing that I created a word that entertained the loved ones in my life, and made someone smile.

Yours Sincerely,

The Lion Mutters

PS – While I can admit to not have the best grammar, and my spelling isn’t always flawless, it is trippy seeing the number of times the word heterboria was underlined as I typed this. Lol.

Learning about Whiteness and Colourism

Something interesting I have learned in the past year are the subjects of whiteness and colourism; specifically how these words have helped me expand my vocabulary and articulate my feelings around race.

The subject that has captured my mind the most has been whiteness, because it is the ways in which people of colour (like myself) have been told how some of the things white people do, then becomes the standard of greatness.

Like how I made sure I spoke English in this overly enunciated manner so that when white/coloured people regularly told me, "You speak so well", I felt so proud; even when I was saying nothing of importance. This is interesting because no one usually says that of white people.

Like how I ended up wanting to go to one high school because it was seen as the classier school where the white kids went, instead of a closer school that most of the coloured and black kids went.

Like how I would expect my parents (then eventually a single parent mother) to provide me with the things that some of my white friends had, when what I had was already the luxury that they could provide.

Like how growing up on Ricoffy, turned out to be fake coffee because my lower middle class family could never afford filter coffee, and only in high school did I learn that there was this thing called filter coffee.

Like how the media kept pushing this notion of “white beauty” on me to such a degree that it has subconsciously shaped my first instinctive preferences in guys, and beyond that they way my imagination often visualises fictitious characters.

I would stop reading a book when it repeatedly pointed out how “half-Asian” or “dark skinned” a character was, as those character traits would disrupt this image of a white character in my head.

I have had to become aware of all these things and in some cases needed to unlearn these habits, while in other cases I’ve needed to make peace with how I was socialized throughout life.

Racebent Hermione Granger

Colourism is another part of this, as it is something which relates to racism and classism on those within your own racial class. An example being the snide/derogatory comments made about people from a poorer social group when you have exactly the same skin tone.

The only interaction with this I had was when I would judge people of colour for how they would speak English; never mind the fact that English would be their second or third language. As if their manner of speaking English would be a judgement on their intellect.

I haven’t dealt with colourism as much, but learning about this issue, and becoming aware of whiteness (specifically mine) has been a very enlightening part of this year.

The process of learning about these things have been extremely difficult and uncomfortable for myself but by learning more about this, I had found that it has made me more open to learning about the people around me instead of judging them first.

I know that I am still learning, but I am proud of myself for what I have become aware of thus far.

Why am I so desperate for companionship?

This is a question I have been asking myself increasingly over the past few months.

I have always been very cognisant of the fact that as humans it is only natural to seek companionship and partner up. It is something that happens frequently.

There has been numerous scientific research and articles addressing the fact that as humans it is natural for us to seek out companions – be it for reproductive purpose or just the need for affection.

It is just what makes us human.

Seeing as I cannot use the reproduction argument in my case, it then leaves the need for affection option, which then forces me to ask, why am I so desperate for affection?

Is it because it is just “basic human needs” or does it come from the issue that I cannot handle being alone?

I would like to think that I have had enough time to discover if my constant desire for companionship is instead pointing to something deeper, and in all honesty, I cannot deny that it might.

A part of me wonders if it maybe has to do with my daddy issues – i.e. absent father who made me feel unappreciated and like a burden, which then lead to my Mom being forced to step in... Basically the same old sob story. But the thought is there - maybe my search for love from a partner is because I lacked the feeling of love from him.

This theory has also been used in the “are you gay because you lacked a strong male figure in your life” argument – which in my case is not true because my grandfather was there for me, and stepdad, and I was already sure the signs of my gayness were there by the time I was in Grade 3.

Funnily enough, on my birthday last year, some stranger actually sent me a message which I will post:

I was upset after reading this because, who gave this stranger the right to force their psychoanalysis on me especially when I didn’t ask for it. Like seriously? Thanks for the input in my life but no one asked you.

It did have me thinking - to which I realised that I am honestly past the point of seeking approval from someone in my life who was only there when his conscience reminded him of his other son.

(Listen, I have blame in that relationship too because I have brother who I have zero relationship with because of all of this, and that is an unfortunate consequence of our actions.)

So maybe that need for companionship comes from this, but there is an alternate theory that I feel is more appropriate.

Maybe I am just one of those people who are driven by their desire to make someone else happy?

Maybe it is not even about me exactly, but more about a desire to fulfill the needs of another person - treating them with compassion, kindness and love.

There is a vast difference between platonic love versus romantic love, and maybe I want to experience that with a person.

Or maybe it could be because I don’t want to wind up a miserable old man with no one to love him?

Or I am looking for a warm roll to stick my sausage in? (I doubt it is purely this reason).

But regardless, there are all things to think about.

Though, it should be said that I have only had two sexual partners over the span of four years which is equal to the amount of relationships I have had. Also, I am not seeking for love by bed hopping to someone else so there is no promiscuous behaviour happening.

[Not that promiscuity is related to this, some people just like having a lot of sex, and power to them for that. No judgement/slut or man-whore shaming here, just a stating that I don’t do the sleeping around because it is just not me.

Interesting enough, I find that I am getting criticised for not being able to sleep around. People have been telling me to ease up, and not be so intense. Sometimes all you want is just to screw someone for a night and that I should be into doing that; especially because as a gay man, I should be all about the excessive sex, BUT I am just not into that.]

I recently told someone that I would love a relationship but I am not going to force it.

As much as being alone and single is driving me crazy at the moment, it is still a remark that I believe to be true. I will not repeat the mistake of rushing into a relationship for the sake of having one because I am only shooting myself in the foot and sabotaging myself.

For now, I am just going to let my life figure itself out, because it is not like I have 500 things going on (sarcasm), so the chips will have to fall where they may.

 “Que Sera, Sera. Whatever will be, will be, the future of live is free, que sera sera”

Theo. Over and Out.

PS – This post doesn’t really contribute towards any great epiphany but I like reflecting on myself and my behaviours because if I cannot examine my own issues/faults/flaws/tendencies then how am I to grow? I won’t deny that it does leave me vulnerable and open to people who might exploit it, but I think I have enough self-preservation to know how to deal with those people.

PPS – I have come to learn a lot about rape culture and will concede that leaving my female friend to wait alone wasn’t the best idea, but I was younger then and didn’t have the insight I do now.

My "Open Wound"

Picture: David Ritchie

I have repeatedly heard that tattoo means “open wound” in Samoan.

I am not sure if that is true or not, because I haven’t found a source reliable enough for me to trust it, but I would love to think it is true.

Regardless, there is still something very poetic and appropriate about it for me.

I had always wanted to get a tattoo, but the whole permanent aspect was a major speed bump that put me somewhat off it.

As I got older, I figured things out and learned more about myself. Over time I changed, as we all do.

Coming out was a pretty big deal for me, it permanently changed my relationship with my mother and my family. It changed how my friends saw me. It changed how I saw myself. How could it not?

That sweet wallflower, that gentle-hearted, ever-the-do-gooder boy I was died that day, and it wasn’t something I realised until writing this.

Coming out broke that boy.

To realise that the fact that I was gay (which was the one thing I was told never to be my entire life) broke the image I had of myself. I loved being the sweet and good boy, the one who made my mother proud and my family proud.

In some ways I still am that boy but it is not the same.

Seeing my mother's look of disgust, hearing her bang her head against her cupboard door, and hearing her wail “Why me?” as if I had just punished her in the worse way imaginable, had forever changed me.

A piece of me died that day, but in return I gained a stronger piece of me.

The piece of me who can stand up for himself when he wants to, a piece of me who does his own thing regardless of what others want, and who is still a kind person (or tries to be).

I gained a piece of me who recognises that I can’t be anything else but myself, even though it can be alienating. I am idiosyncratically me, and I am a better human being for it.

A year or so after coming out, I started falling in love with having a way to commemorate the day that I came out. I had forgotten the specific date that I had come out on, because there were more important things that had happened that day than for me to remember the date.

Anyway, thanks to a Facebook post, I found the date and the fateful post that came the day after I had done the bravest thing of my life.

Some time had pass and in the back of my mind, it was impossible for me to escape the idea of celebrating this act of bravery. To me, it was the scariest and bravest thing that I had ever done in my life, and I felt that I wanted to cherish that.

Fast forwarding a bit, a few ideas would pop up and then pass, and a new one would come along and then go but they all had my coming out involved in some shape or form.

I finally settled on an idea which excited me: why don’t I record myself saying the date I came out and then use the sound waves of that recording as a tattoo?

I thought about this idea actively for over a year and it was the one that stuck. Also it was the one that felt the most “me”.

The idea of a standard (though little generic) LGBT tattoo was cool but it felt too broad, especially for a community that I don’t entirely feel settled into. The sound waves idea appealed to me because of my love for music.

I don’t know where music became so vital to me, but it did.

When I was in primary school and part of the xylophone group performing at school events, when I did choir for a bit, when my mother and stepdad were arguing I would be in my room listening to music, when I was feeling sad, music would be there - when I was becoming depressed because the stress of keeping the gay secret had started killing out every drop of happiness – music was there.

It is why I run my music blog posts because a life without music is not a life at all, it is just an existence.

So...I had settled on it. I had figured out what I wanted and that was most of the war won.

Everyone knows how neurotic I can be and overanalyse everything, so for me to permanently mark my body in such a way, I had to get to a point where getting the tattoo felt so natural. I kept visualising what it would look like on my arm and the more I did that, the more I settled into the idea of getting one.

Picture: David Ritchie

Why the right arm? No reason other than the fact that it needed to be somewhere I could see it. 

Whenever I feel like shit or like I am not strong enough, the tattoo while be that reminded that I did the thing that scared me most. I did one of the bravest things I have ever done, and if I could do so, then I can certainly handle anything else that comes my way?

The only thing left to do was execute it.

Last week was a bit mad because I hadn’t thought out the details of getting a tattoo. I hadn’t even scouted out tattoo parlours and taken my time to settle on one. It was all fast-paced.

In all honesty, it needed to be. I would have procrastinated and maybe not gone through with it if it had been all delayed.

Wednesday - I made sure to record myself saying the date and then get that into a program which created the sound wave.

Thursday – I was off and also found out that I can’t just walk in and do a tattoo on the same day, so I would need to book an appointment. I had already been planning to see them the day before, but this only confirmed it.

Friday – I went into the place only with my design, and the rent money I usually pay my mother, and went to speak to the people at Metal Machine.

(Side-bar: I had initially planned to go to Wildfire but my friend suggested that I try Metal Machine because Wildfire is overpriced. Honestly, I did not put enough effort into finding a bargain because all that mattered to me was the tattoo.)

The very friendly tattoo covered lady at the parlour took my design, went up to one of the tattoo artists and asked him about it.

After some back and forth, he said that he can do it but the design needed to be 25% bigger.

So they made it bigger (who doesn’t like bigger? :P ) and then asked me if It was alright.

It was.

I then committed to it:

Female Trainee Tattoo Artist : “When would you like to make the appointment?”

Me: “Tomorrow if possible.”

Her: “I don’t think that will be possible as Andro has another client.”

Receptionist: “Patrick actually changed his appointment to Monday, so Andro is free tomorrow.”

Lady: “Then you can do tomorrow. We do require a 50% deposit though...”

Me: “Cool...Uhm, Can I swipe?”

Lady: “We only accept cash.”

Me: “Okay then –uses money from the rent money I pay-“

Lady: “Well then, we will see you tomorrow. –hands me a card with appointment details-”

Me: “Okay, cool.”

Picture: David Ritchie

I pretty much then freaked out that I was actually committing to getting a tattoo for the rest of the day.

Saturday- I was nervous, excited and scared, but I knew that it was something I wanted.

I had to do a few errands before, but soon enough 12 o'clock came and along with David Ritchie, a work colleague who came for moral support. I was at the tattoo parlour ready to get my tattoo on.

Filled in the indemnity form thing and then once that was all sorted, I met my tattoo artist.

He seemed super intimidating at first, but that was only because he was questioning me about the tattoo, and also he had a serious demeanour about it.

After sorting out the finer details about the tattoo, we were ready to roll.

He had talked me through everything before, seeing as it was my first time (pun unintended) but he calmed me and just was a really cool guy about it.

Picture: David Ritchie

So they took the design, made a sticker thing out of it and then used that to put on my skin...which is what they do because then they trace the tattoo on your skin and still have another reference to look at the same time.

I officially have a whole new respect for tattoo artists because they make you feel at ease, explain everything and still try to be friendly and sociable even though they have a job to do. Maybe I was very lucky that I got Andro, but he was a legend.

The whole experience was perfect, it hurt but was perfect.

Picture: David Ritchie

For me my tattoo is an open wound for me.

It is a physical representation of an internalised scar that will forever be with me.

Sometimes we forget that we can leave scars on each of mentally, emotionally and psychologically. My tattoo is a scar that I want to wear on me because it is a battle scar. A battle scar I want everyone to see because I am not ashamed of what it means.

It is my symbol of bravery and strength from a battle that I made it out of.

I survived, especially in a world where many LGBT kids kill themselves because they don’t have anything to fight for. If things hadn’t turned out the way it hard, I might not be here today.

*shudder*

It is a sobering thought, isn’t it?

Theo. Over and Out.

Pictures: David Ritchie

PS: The thing that I find really funny was how in all of this, I overlooked the part that someone was going to be puncturing my skin repeatedly with a needle. It hurts people. Getting a tattoo hurts, it did hurt less than I thought it would but it hurts. Those first few manoeuvres were painful but you adjust and try not to focus on it, which is why Andro was so legend.

PPS: Also me and my mom are on good terms now. She doesn't accept the fact that I am gay but she still loves me and respects me which is really all I can ask from her.

It hurts, but it's okay...

I had a bit of rough day yesterday...

It was one of those days when you feel overwhelmed by life. I have a laundry list of things that needs to be done but it feels like I don’t have enough time to get it done. Also it doesn’t help that I put pressure on myself to do all the things that I set out.

I have constantly felt like I haven’t worked hard enough to achieve all the things that I should. I looked around at those my age who have achieved so much and I can't help but feel like I could be doing more, working harder, trying to get to that next stage of my life.

I have to sort out my driver’s this year, possibly find a new permanent job (which can afford me the luxury of moving out) if my current employment can't keep me on –which would suck because I like where I work – but all that aside, there is also the creative person in me who has written three novels and wants to see one of them become published in my lifetime.

My life has followed my loose plan (if I can even call it a plan) thus far and I am so scared of easing up on pursuing my plans because then as soon as I give in it mind lead me to feeling stagnant.

All of these feelings have been compounded by the fact that it never feels like I have enough time to accomplish what I set out.

It leaves me feeling overwhelmed because time flies by and I don’t want to wake up one day feeling like I never made the best of my life. I want to travel, and to take my mother with me because it is something we have never experienced but only dreamed of.

When most your friends have travelled and been able to experience a new countries and cultures, but all you have are pictures, ideas and fantasies of these places, it leaves this gaping feeling like I’m missing out on this educational and changing experience...but the thing is I don’t want to do it because I have fomo (fear of missing out), I want to do it because it is has been this life long goal.

Not only that, it is something that my mother and my entire family has dreamed of for me. The joy I see in their face because they are proud of me makes me happy. The pressure does feel overwhelming, but when all these people have had such faith in you – more than what you might have in yourself - the last thing you want to do is let them down.

It was hard for me when I came out as gay because, while it was freeing to finally acknowledge this intrinsic part of me that I could no longer deny, the look of disappointment from my family hurt because when you only have showed them the best of you, seeing that disappointment at what they think is the worst of you kills a part you.

I think in some ways it has contributed towards being this driving force for me in wanting that domestic bliss with the picket fence, the husband, the children and dogs I want to show them that living this “lifestyle” is not going to lead me down some depraved road but instead can lead me to one of my biggest success of my life.

I struggle with being gay still, I hide it well between jokes and innuendos and etc but it is not something that I always feel comfortable with because it was one of the things that drove me from Christianity, I also haven’t found that community that I feel entirely a part of and so I just drift along.

The gay friends I have are those I knew before they came out of picked up one or two others from other friends but in my group of friends I am that gay one. That is my title. Typically the only other gay people I usually make friends with are the ones I date.

I have been feeling so frustrated about this being single but a part of me feels that it is for that very reason why I need to be single. Being in a relationship for the sake of it or because a person feels lonely only does more harm than good in the long term.

I had spoken to my friend about this and she aptly captured how I was feeling because she could relate to it:

“It is difficult being in a situation where you want something but the wanting that something becomes the reason why you can’t have it. It’s the stupidest little conundrum. The lesson though is probably that you need to become content with your life as it is to be in the best place to share it with someone...”

It is a frustrating circular situation to be in because you could very well be self-sabotaging yourself.

Also there is this fact that I never feel like I have enough time for my friends and it sucks because they have always been there for me but I barely have had the time (or energy) to write this blog post but I had to commit. Hopefully I will find a way to do better.

So much of what I feel can be so exhausting and I try to not overthink things because it only makes me depressed. I try to be the relaxed and level headed Theo who smiles a lot and wants to make people smile because life can already be depressing enough but I don’t always win that battle.

It is why I am grateful for work, books and series that entertain me because it all forces me to focus on a task and not get too far into my own head. Sometimes you can be your own worst enemy...

I had thought this was going to be a blog post that followed smoothly but my mind had other things in mind so I apologise for the sometimes muddle train of thought this post went on. As I said, yesterday was a rough day.

Hopefully things will feel better.


Theo. Over and Out.

Fuck your masculinity - I will cry when I want

I don't like crying....

But not for the usual reasons.

The reason I dislike crying is not because it makes me look weak, but because of the way I feel when I cry.
Everything seems to hit me from every direction and I feel overwhelmed, alone and like i'm in a dark pool which no one but me understands.

Recently however, I have been feeling particularly emotional given how life decided to just wallop me with situations that have struck a cord with me.

I am the type of person who speaks freely about emotions and crying because to me, it's natural.

I don't feel ashamed about my feelings because  feelings are what makes me human, and sometimes it's only natural to cry.

Recently however when I mentioned to someone that something was making me a bit emotional, and that I almost cried, they looked at me like I was stupid and like I was not a proper man because of it.

I  didn't care about it in the moment, but in retrospect it made me somewhat angry.

It made me angry because we live in a society where gender roles cause more harm than good, and the idiotic notion of a "real man" (which is the notion of what a man is supposed to be) creates unrealistic expectations and beliefs of what a man should be.

In reality, a man should be who the fuck he wants to be.

I am not here to fill someone's stereotype and role of what you believe a man should be. I am me, I will not be apologetic for admitting that things make me sad. I will not feel bad about crying over stuff when I feel like shit because sometimes crying is necessary and it actually makes you feel better afterwards.

Fuck your masculinity.

It's these societal ideals of "real men" or some crap about how guys are not meant to cry (because it is a sign of weakness) that ends up doing so much damage because people become scared to express how they really feel.

How narrow-minded is your notion of masculinity that crying is seen as weak??

Crying is natural. It's society that tells us it's not.

 It is done to express feelings of happiness, sadness. frustration and anger but men seem to be taught that crying makes you weak. It has become this sign of weakness that people will manipulate and try to use against you.

If the society we live in wants to continue to spread this notion of some fucked up rules of masculinity that stops people from truly expressing their feelings without being shamed for it, then it is a society that I want nothing to do with.

I will cry when I want. Your notion of masculinity and "real men" be damned.

I repeat - Fuck your masculinity.



Theolin. Over and Out


PS- Here is a really cool photo series that shows soldiers crying.

Neringa Rekasiute and Beata Tiskevic-Hasanova’s photo project They Won the Lottery is a reaction to the new law (in which Lithuanian government reintroduced military conscription) ; it depicts young men in military uniform, crying, alongside their comments about masculinity. (see more here)

“We wanted to show how dangerous gender expectations are: A man is expected to be rational, emotionless and aggressive. It is very important that we, as a society, allow men to express their emotions and not force a stereotypical archaic role onto them.” 
– Neringa Rekasiute

So powerful

A Week in Cape Town's Student Protests... #FeesHaveFallen

A week in student protests...

Footage: http://www.iol.co.za/

It was also announced on Friday by President Jacob Zuma that there would be a 0% increase in student fees in 2016.

http://www.iol.co.za/news/politics/zuma-says-0-increase-in-fees-1.1934941#.Vis_v64rJBw

Theo. Over and Out

Letting Yourself Down

It comes out of nowhere. That feeling...a concrete brick sinking into the pit of your stomach. It's covered with guilt, failure and disappointment. Usually it's the disappointment that stings the most.

I think that it is one of the most basic human feelings to want to be there for another person. Hoping to not let them down. It is something that I think everyone struggles with. No one wants to be a disappointment to the people closest to you. Feeling like a failure fucking sucks.

Unfortunately it is unavoidable. It happens to the best of us.

A topic that pertains to this though, that I wanted to tackle was: letting yourself down.

We have our moral codes and our ethics that we consciously (or subconsciously) live by. From a young age we were influenced from our parents, our surroundings and our experiences to form our own code of conduct and ethics.

The metaphorical lines in the sand we draw for ourselves; making vows and promises that we will never cross certain lines.

In an ideal world, we would never cross those lines, but the reality is that we do. Whenever we drop our standards or do something that compromises what we stand for - It is always a difficult pill to swallow.

We realise how full of imperfections we are, and how, as humans, we are influenced and affected by so much that happens around us.

I struggle with this.

Recently I had a moment where I felt like I was letting myself down. I realise in retrospect that it was over something small, but I honestly felt like I had disappointed myself. I strive to be a good person, and do the "right" thing but sometimes in doing so I set myself up for failure too.

There is no such thing as the "right" thing because what maybe right for you, could hurt someone else.

Everyone is hero in their own story, but yet, they maybe the villain in someone else's.

When something happens that I could have prevented, and it forces me to compromises my standards, naturally that makes me feel like shit.

Of course sometimes things are out of my control, which I cannot fix, but I can control how I react. In some ways, I let it get to me - which only does more harm than good, but the least I can do is dust myself off, and try my best to keep on going on.

A lesson to remember though is that you are not infallible. You are only human.

There are those instances too when we must violate our own promises and standard because life is never a matter of black and white, it is rather a series of experiences and interactions which makes us realise that sometimes we are living in the grey areas.

For example, you promised yourself that you would never cheat and that you hated everyone who cheated. Then out of nowhere came that instance where you found yourself in that situation; either because you got yourself there or because someone else lied to you and you suddenly found yourself in that predicament.

I have learned that while I do still think cheating is wrong, sometimes people screw up. It can be a one time thing, or it can be a issue that people have to work out within themselves but sometimes shit happens. Though, shit which gets caused by people themselves is an entirely other issue on it's own.

Also the instances of lying to those close to you because you know something - a truth that you have no right in revealing, that is going to come and hit them like wrecking ball, so all you can do is put on a brave face and prepare as you watch a unmovable wrecking ball about to damage them.

You feel like shit because there is nothing you can do, but you wait because you know that when that wrecking ball hits, you are going to need to be there for them.

No one wants to feel helpless, but sometimes things happen in such a way that you are struck helpless. Sometimes people need to help themselves because you can only do so much.

I was really interested in finding out what other people had to say on this matter, so I did.

"It feels like you've hit a new low," a colleague shared when asked how it feels when you let yourself down. One gentlemen, who overheard what I was writing about, gave some wisdom on the matter, "Chalk it up to experience. A learning curve - you can do better next time."



I was however, able to connect with this sentiment a female friend shared.

"It will be on my mind for weeks. I will think about the whole time, but then I will just end up disappointing myself... I will just have to deal with it and get over the initial pain afterwards."

Life forces you to adapt your standards and codes of conduct because life is life. You have to be malleable and adaptable because if you don't, then life will knock the shit out of you and beat you into submission.

BUT these are just moments that force us to realise that the line in the sand we drew for ourselves sometimes get washed away by the sea of life, we just have to be prepared to redraw them and repeatedly adjust.

Theo. Over and Out


PS- This blog post started out one way, and then it started taking a very different turn the more I started thinking about it. The reason for this was that I was all ready to say something and for it be a certain way, but the more I thought about it, and how life has affected me the more malleable I had to be.

It came down to a situation of idealism vs reality.

That aside, letting yourself down still sucks so try to be as true to you as you can be when you aren't stretching and adapting for life.