Thoughts On What’s Next …

I have had this obsession/fascination with most (all) things mechanical and or electronic for as long as I’ve been compulsively writing. I recall fusing a handheld electronic game with a portable FM stereo player because it just made sense to do so. I didn’t understand how no one had thought about that by then. Due to just working with mainly duct tape (with super glue here and there) and lack of the proper tools to put all that together it didn’t last long, but it worked long enough for me to pat myself on the back. This was in the early 2000s.

However, just like my writing, I never thought much of it because I figured that it was just something we all learnt to do as we grew up. I went from there to fixing one or two Hi-Fis that I could and all other house electronics that were either malfunctioning so badly that people didn’t mind letting me open them up or weren’t working at all. Nervousness typically kicked in when you had fixed the problem but wanted to make sure that you didn’t break anything as you were putting everything back together, said nervousness had been groomed by past experiences. From there, I went on to make a couple of my own speaker set ups with various enclosures.

Still, as the years went by, this seemed to fizzle out with the increasing complexities of the things I wanted to make & or fix. See the basic tools I had and my knowledge at the time only allowed me to go so far. So, naturally, to avoid the total demise of this mechanical/electronic passion, I moved my focus to bigger and bigger mechanical items, things like; printers, scanners, computers eventually ending up at cars (well, almost all things automotive). The older I got and the more information I got access to, the bigger my world expanded in that regard.

Once again, not taking it seriously I let all that slide and in the high school years I found myself pursuing other passions and putting those early obsessions on hold. I went on to pursue art and design with a desire to do woodwork, sadly that was being phased out as I was about to start grade 10. However, I was fortunate enough to get the opportunity to work with some of the woodwork machinery before it got phased out as a subject choice.

All of these thoughts (and more) came flooding back as I thought about committing to studying further next year. The main struggle so far has been deciding which course I want to explore first among the various interests I’m still so keen on exploring. With the two main contenders being Mechanical Engineering and Creative Writing (they do seem to be worlds apart). It’s really a tough one for me though, because one is something I can’t help but do organically (I can’t stop writing, doesn’t really matter what I’m writing). The other one is something I’m still so fascinated by which will allow me to not only create more but also partake in almost all the fascinations and obsessions I have.

I want to do mechanical engineering because it’s a skill, it’s practical, and I feel as though it will allow me to do so much more and bring some many of my ideas to life. On the other hand, writing is the passion I’ve been yearning for while ignoring that I already had it. It’s that one thing that is so innate that I can’t recall a time it didn’t just come as naturally to me as it does now. I know I will do both over time, I just need to decide which hill I’m taking first.



A part of me feels so betrayed while the other is taking it on the chin as I own up for the role my negligence played in what has been unfolding over the past 10 months. A hard hitting life lesson that’s just emphasised my theme for this year, the theme being “Stay Woke, Stay Alert” it’s expensive not to be. Guard yourself, guard your worth and guard your heart. It’s all up to you mta’sekhaya – kubi.

Forget Not Your Self-Worth

This was first posted on my Facebook account on the: 21 September 2016

For most of my formative years, my family (in conjunction with my faith) helped affirm my self-worth. Sounds easy enough in a family setting right?! Not so much, because (from the little that I’m able to recall) I didn’t really make it easy.

Family and Faith, those are just two of the things which sustained me when I was questioning the meaning of my very own existence (because, I tend to thoroughly apply — Question Everything). I hope I get the opportunity to share some of the findings which came (and still do come) from questioning one’s very own existence at a later stage of this lifing thing.

So back to the whole self-worth thing. My faith and family helped shape, not only how I viewed and still view myself, but also what I believed about myself. Which couldn’t have been an easy task because, having alluded to this before, I’m far from being an easy being overall. Anyway, my faith and family have been (are) part of the foundation on which I began building this house — my life / my existence = my overall experience. The foundation has been a solid one, despite some of my numerous self sabotage attempts, both intentionally and unintentionally. I was the one who, at the mercy of life’s happenings, started to not only question the point of my existence but also simultaneously devalue what it is that I bring/brought to anything. I gave in to the things that life threw at me and I let those things replace the two things that are essential to my foundation. I didn’t understand why things were starting to crumble till I was hit with the obvious realisation of what was causing the destruction. This soul, that’s currently stuffed into this (under the right light) handsome meatsuit.

As part of an ongoing Self-worth Reclaim Process (SRP), I decided, earlier this (that) morning, that I was going to wear the first pair of formal shoes ‘I’ ever paid for with earnings from one’s very own (hard) worked for remuneration. I chose these shoes because at the time of their purchase, self-doubt wasn’t really one of my core issues. At the time, my self-worth had its roots deeply planted into all the things that really mattered/matter in life. Said things that are defaults or even mandatory things to being alive.

I was scared at the time, not just of failure, but I was scared of missing any opportunities presented to me. I was more of the ‘Yes man’ that I’ve now come to miss. See, missing opportunities scared me because missing an opportunity meant I was still so scared of failure that I let it decide what I ought to do or not. Previously, it had gotten so bad that I was comfortable with it hindering even the best kind of progress in my life. Missing an opportunity meant I never really succeeded but I also never really failed because I never tried (which I have come to learn that in some instances that’s just another word for failing). I was still enjoying being in the unknown or the limbo of life though. This, for me, meant that I lived by only reacting to what was happening to and or around me. I was never creating and or making things happen. Lord knows he gave me the ability to make things happen.

The main lesson to share from that part of my life is to never allow subtractions to your self-worth, allow no recession to devalue the personal currency that is you — You are worth much more.

However, first and foremost, be worth much more to yourself!

In the words reverberated by the already legendary Kendrick Lamar

It All Makes Sense Now (okay maybe not all of it…)

It All Makes Sense Now (okay maybe not all of it…)

I have written a lot of stuff over the period of my existence (which is now no-longer just a brief existence, years are piling up like crazy). Most of the content hasn’t been making as much sense as it does now. The content and ideas housed within the content is still the same, but the reason behind the content has incurred much more depth. I go back to stuff I wrote ages ago and I get a sense of happiness because the eyes and mind now gazing upon it are ones that understand what they didn’t when I first wrote it all. I thought I was just writing for the sake of writing, turns out I was writing because it’s coded into my very being. I can’t fully (yet) express how the speedily clicking of alphabet keys which go on to form words make my spirit feel. Since finding meaning for it and meaning behind it – writing feels a lot more magical than it did at first.

Experiences and life encounters have given new meaning to old content. It’s like having a retro perspective towards my own relatively old and naïve content.

I won’t dare go as far as declaring having found a meaning to life, but I have discovered that God really did give me a toolbox at birth that was meant to prepare and help get me through life. In it he made sure to include all the things I needed and or would come to need.

Imagine having felt like you’d just shot your last arrow, feeling like your quiver was empty and your enemies knew it too so they began to charge at you. Only to reach in and BAM! It hits you (NO, not a hit from your enemies) and you realise that the quiver you have … *drum roll and cinematic-pan-close-up to your warrior face*… is one with arrows that NEVER run out.

Vundle – The Father, The Hero, The Wingman (continued)

I recently caught myself thinking about some of the things I was fighting through long before your passing, like: “Had things gone differently I probably would’ve been among those who welcomed you to heaven (if I would have even made it there).”  What a dark and long journey it has been. Now, it’s been a year since we laid you to rest. I know this because it’s now exactly 12 months later. What I feel, what we feel, is a whole different story. Emotions refusing to cooperate with the aforementioned reality. And out of all the things that could’ve stayed alive, we are left with the feelings of your passing still kicking and breathing.

For the longest time (probably the entire 12 months) I have been actively denying this. Denying that; your passing still lived with me, denying that I have been feeling lost. Denying that; at times I have been like a bull in a china shop. I have been ignoring the reality that I’ve mostly been automated since it all happened. Being more functional than alive, perhaps just slightly more functional.

I thought the trip I took to Mpumalanga shortly after had helped a lot more than it did. I guess I would have known that it didn’t help as much if I’d paid more attention to how concerned the rest of the family was. See, I was looking at Mom with worry about how she was doing and how she was handling everything, meanwhile I was not doing all that well myself. As all great Mothers do, she picked it up and brought it to my attention every chance she could get me to listen. I would often brush it off because I was convinced she was just projecting. I was also convinced that I was okay. Yeah I had times when I felt like I was too tightly wound. So to survive I went into my well rehearsed  routine, that’s what these 12 months have felt like for the most part. I have been getting out of bed, going to work, church on necessary days, sitting on the couch and sleeping. So all in all just basic coping.

Mom recently convinced me to go see someone, this was after an incident that almost made me snap in two. I can never really speak to anybody about it because I realise that on the surface it’s something plain and dismissable, but to me it ran, and still does, much deeper. Anyway, I’m getting help and that’s actually been helping a lot. The person helping me through this seems convinced that the personnel changes I made in these past couple of months are also contributing factors to an extent. I play it off like they aren’t but that may very well be true, but that’s another thing one can’t change. What is, is, and all it requires from me is that I accept the reality that it is.

I find myself trying to find myself in the absence of you. I find myself having to redefine myself as I’m no longer really aligned with you. I have been writing more lately, this has increased more so in these past two to three months. I have had a lot to say since your passing but didn’t see the point of it all. Still don’t to be honest, but I think this writing may very well be what helps me find myself in this life after-you. So I dig deeper into it, the more I write the more connected I feel to myself, the family who are part of those I write to, to you and my faith. Sometimes writing has felt like the only way I could breathe.

There have been times it has felt like it’s taboo for me to mourn you like I still do, which is why I will be doing it a lot more. I will do it so much more that it may very well be my tale of the Father to your grandchildren.

Dear Future Wife

Thinking: I haven’t even started saying half of what I actually want to tell you, because I can’t. The “half of what I want to tell you” statement is minus the things I want to tell you on the daily. Random things such as how right now, I actually long for a mundanely long conversation about something that’s really nothing in the bigger scheme of things. Leading us to channel the holy spirit as we bring forth words of creation and make that said nothing into a moment that we’ll have between us till life does what it will do. 

Or what we will allow it to, or what we’ve allowed it to, or what I’ve allowed it to, or what I’ve done to us, and what I’ve done to you. Sometimes, I forget the present as I journey off into my distant hopes which often pass me onto my mad imaginings which send me through to crazy fantasies only for reality to prohibit us from making it real because WE are barely US. Were we ever? The answer is probably never, but never doesn’t possesses the guts to kill such a forever. I’m in this state of pondering about if we will ever become ONE that will forever last. Wait, unless I remain as the only one who still wonders about the WE when the reality of what we are has set in on your side. So what are we to you?! Okay now my heart hurts which in fact is my head cause I over thought and led it to overheat  99 regrets Celsius is the temperature to beat. This is the heat I feel when we speak, but you wouldn’t understand what I mean. Nor the revelations I’ve seen. So I’ll remain hidden in words and sentences till this real thing is realised and you realise you’re my ride or die. All in all you’re my future wife.

Thoughts #40: Speak out, Speak Up!

“When I was younger I’d bite my tongue out of fear. Fear that not only was I speaking out of turn but who was I to say anything anyway. I then grew up learning when to speak, when not to, what to say and what not to. Learning all that is good for anyone, but not under fear. I then went on to learn how to speak out when I’m needed to, even when the person who needs me to speak up for them is – me. Overall, I have learnt that speaking out at the wrong time and about something you don’t properly grasp is as dangerous as not speaking out when you are witnessing an injustice or when you are being treated unjustly.”