My THIRD blog-aversary!


My first threesome!

I knew it was getting close but I never realized it was today.  Much like that time I forgot to mention my wedding anniversary, only to end up with a new version of my loving soulmate called Disgruntled Wife.  This ones comes with visual but no audio, at least for a while.

(Ah…the happy times…)

Can you believe it to be three years since this post? Continue reading


I had a face-lift

Middle-aged men are notorious for changing things in order to feel young again.  Like coloring their hair, buying a fancy car and dumping their wives.  I haven’t done, nor am I planning to do, any of the above. I like my grey hair, I don’t earn enough money for a fancy car and after all these years, do you really think I’m crazy enough to house-train another female?

Besides I’m almost forty-two, it’s too late now.

I did however went for a face-lift. Continue reading

How Male Pattern Baldness is nothing like Blogging. Or maybe it is.

At least you might still have some hair on your back

At least you might still have some hair on your back

Male pattern baldness will effect up to 70% of men at some point in their lifetime which forces me to thank my father for his genes, thereby placing me in the remaining 30%. (For the moment.) I have what you might call a head that needs hair. Male pattern baldness is nothing like blogging, unless off course you count the times when you pull out tuffs of your own hair whilst staring at the blank screen, who by the way, taunts you like a middle school playground bully. Those moments when you have a desire to write but your head remains a black hole. Continue reading

Newsflash #20 – No way!!!!

A mother takes twenty years to make a man of her boy, and another woman makes  a fool of him in twenty minutes.

Robert Frost 

Can. This. Really. Be.  Happening?  Can. Life. Really. Be. This. Splendid?

To say I’m surprised, would be the understatement of mankind.  It would be wrong in the same context as calling Kanye West an inspiration.  I need somebody to slap me with a keyboard…  For I might be hallucinating.  I seems that I have just gotten my 400th follower!

And that is F*CKING awesome!  (Sorry, but the f-bomb IS necessary here)

NASA worker loses mind after Mars Curiosity landing gif


Continue reading

Happy Birthday Dude.

I know, I’m referring to myself in the third person, which by all accounts would be enough evidence for my wife to have me committed.  She’s always maintained that I look rather dashing in white.   But I’m doing it because I’m cool, I’m special and I love everybody.  And it’s all because of this little notification…with a logo and everything…

You registered on 1 year ago!

Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging!

So maybe I’m not that special.  Maybe I don’t love everybody, but I know I love at least 331 more people than I did one year ago.  (Has it been one year already?)  Wow, that is the proof I needed to understand that time does indeed fly when you’re having fun.  Most of those 331 people will understand that starting this blog didn’t just change my life, it revamped my soul.  It was an extreme makeover of the mind, and I’ve been screaming “Move that bus” daily.  The fascinating thing is that I’ve been seeing the rooms of my presumed creativity being revealed in the most amazing ways.

We write because we like too.  Sorry, that was blatantly offensive.  We write because we love too.  And I write not expecting anyone to really read the stuff that flood Tsunami-like onto the screen.  I never anticipated the response I received am receiving from the community on this site.  It’s been to say the least, mind-blowing.  Like 40 tons being dropped on the world largest whoopee-cushion.

I am semi-intelligent enough to understand that I’m just another one out of a million other smucks  (and I use this as an endearing term) who’s writing away on a daily/weekly/ad hoc basis, praying for Freshly Pressed, sending our cautionary, edited, entertaining, serious, offensive, inspirational, humorous, opinionated, deep, light-hearted, poetic, creative posts and pics blindly into nothingness.  To only realise later that it’s not an empty abyss, but a treasure chest of the most astonishing writers and photographers.

I would like to thank WordPress for being my platform, my keyboard for being the microphone, and every single person standing in the crowd below, giving me the confidence, not just to keep going on, but cheering me on to become a better writer.

And last but not least.  Thanks to Son and Princess for being my joy and inspiration, who supply my creative steroids in bucket loads to ensure I keep on running.  And then to my wife, my love, my life, my everything….  Thanks for letting me have those countless hours in front of the computer screen, where I was typing away frantically.  Thanks for providing the funny and in so doing; making our home the best place on earth.

Here’s to another year!

Free your mind.

I was born on 11 January 2013.  I am two months old today, that is Me, the writer.  This day coincides with the day I published my first post on this blog. (40 posts ago)  I am still an infant blogger.  I drink milk, (prefer beer and wine) but I learn something new every day, therefore I’m growing.  It’s great.

When I started on this journey, I knew that it was something I wanted to do for a very long time but I didn’t realise how addictive it would become.

WordPress lists some tips on blogging in numerous articles, and one of the tips was to post regularly.  (And keep the content good, and don’t get lazy).  One article suggested that I should find a posting schedule that I am comfortable with.  It started as one post a week, grew to two, but it became very clear, very soon that I needed to post once a day, every weekday.  (I have mentioned before  that weekends were invented for doing nothing.)

In a very short period of time WordPress was listed by Google as one of my most frequently visited websites.  Forgotten children like Rotten tomatoes, Facebook and Superherohype were pushed aside, packed away in dark corners.  Calling my name, calling for attention, but useless calls nonetheless.

I don’t know any crackheads, yet, but I do know that (1) I get very agitated when I don’t have Internet access, (2) I constantly think of what to write, (3) How to write and (4) When I will get the opportunity to write.  I verify my following daily, check for comments like a little kid who has never seen candy.  I spend hours reading random stuff from total strangers as if my life depends on it.  Is this normal?  Is this was they call obsession?

My craving for posting daily has also created some concerns for my wife.  She reckons I spend too much time in front of the computer when I am at home.  Am I really becoming that guy?  (Writer is smiling)  I could reply with “Well, be grateful it’s not porn!” but I know better.

My wife has also asked me how do I come up with something to write about every day?

That’s an easy one.  Finding topics to write about is about as difficult as finding oxygen.  “It happens”, like Forrest Gump said.  It’s just shit on the shoe and then we write.   I say “we” with the utmost respect to all the great writers out there in the blogosphere.  I am fortunate to be part of this amazing community of writers.

I write about specific things that happen, inspirational stories or anecdotes I pick up daily.  I prefer to keep it personal, to tell stories that I have been a witness to.  Stories I want my kids to read.  My gratification does not come from the topic I choose, it comes from the act of writing, the process.  Putting thoughts on-screen, wrestling with words, contemplating new titles, fighting with paragraphs.  Like an artist trying to mix the perfect colour on his pallet for his next genius stroke.

Life is a toyshop of tales and experiences.  It is a never-ending story that only needs willing people to observe and report on it.  Writing has become such an integral part of my daily activity, that it’s difficult to imagine a time in my life without doing it.

Today I look at life differently, I am more cautious with my opinions, I observe more, I consider more, I listen more, I see more, I think more, I am more connected.  It’s a kind of freedom that is very difficult to explain.  A freedom of expression, freedom of stress, freedom of worries, freedom of being alive in a way.

Maybe En Vogue (the girl group, generation Y!) expressed it best in the title of their nineties hit:

“Free your mind”  because that is what writing does.  The ability to write is the big copper key that turns the heavy lock, swings the steel door wide open and allows your mind to escape.