Bruce, Clark and that Martha chick

Three years ago when Zack Snyder announced he would be working on the Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice film, the universe caught a slight wobble. There was a social media outbreak that dwarfed Ebola. We were bombarded with insane teaser trailers, spoilers, interviews and “secret glimpses” of what was to come.

My friend, Daniel, and I started collecting comic books in 1991. Since the very first day we held a DC Comics book in our 11 year-old hands, we’ve had raging debates as to who would win should Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent ever have it out.

Needless to say, that debate is still, well, debatable.

Imagine for a second that you’ve waited literally your entire life for an event to occur, and then when it finally does, you wish it never did.

That, was my experience of Batman vs. Superman: Dawn of Justice.

The only thing that dawned upon anyone was how absolutely shit it was and how you felt like a teenager the morning after your drink was spiked. You were left standing there, remote in hand, looking at the credits flash across your face wondering “what the hell just happened?”

This movie left me searching frantically for a scalpel. So I could cut open my skull and scrape the skid marks of this turd-fest off the foundation of my already overcrowded memory.

I am so despondent about this film that I don’t feel the need to get into too much detail about an entire genre they managed to screw up in the space of just two hours. Instead I’ve made a list.

Please feel free to comment.

Why it failed:

  1. Alexander (Lex) Luthor

WTF??? Seriously, what the actual F@#!? First off, this guy is the epitome of a super villain and basically one of the most notorious characters in the entire DC Universe. He is a billionaire businessman and in every single depiction I have ever seen, he is extremely well dressed, super intelligent and smooth as a baby’s backside. In the movie however, he is depicted as this Joker type character with a distinct yuppy sort of flair about him. The movie version is a kid on drugs trying to be Heath Ledger with a squeaky voice because his balls had not dropped yet. Casting Jesse Eisenberg was a HUGE mistake and somebody should lose their heads over it.

  1. The Flash

Political Correctness is ruining society. Barry Allen or Wally West was the Flash. White guys. Blonde haired, blue eyed white guys. Ezra Miller will now be the new Barry Allen according to insiders (such as IMBD and Bustle) in the upcoming 2018 release entitled The Flash. WHY THE F@#! IS FLASH AN ASIAN DUDE?!

  1. The endless Dream scenes (FIVE in total)

The movie starts with a dream scene. There are some more dreams in the Batcave, in the desert, in the bedroom, in the snow, in the air, in space, in … zzzzzzzzzzzzz

  1. Oh the hypocrisy of it all

So Batman hates Superman (like everyone else in the United States) mostly because of all the destruction he caused and the innocent lives that were lost because of a result of him and Zod having their little tiff in Man of Steel. But then, Batman gets into the Batmobile (which resembled a German Panther tank) and proceeds to tear through the streets of Gotham destroying buildings, old ships and warehouses wrecking a number of cars and killing countless numbers of unnamed henchmen in an attempt to hijack a transport truck and steal its shipment of kryptonite. Because setting the world on fire is fine if you’re Batman.

  1. The fight

The title has VERSUS in it. Which means that it’s a movie about two guys blikseming the crap out of each other, right? Wrong. In the two hour long lullaby for big people, a total of 03:13 seconds was dedicated to an actual fight. That’s right. THREE minutes of Batman versus Superman. How did the fight stop? Hold on while I try regain composure because it’s so ridiculous that each time I think about it, I choke on my coffee. The fight stopped because Batman realizes (as he is about to drive a kryptonite spearhead through Superman’s chest) that (wait for it) his mother…and Superman’s mother… HAD THE SAME NAME.

I

shit

you

not.

The entire movie is built around Martha. And why the hell does Superman call his mom by her real name rather “mom” or “mommy” even? I think that it would have made more sense if he just came out straight and said “Help me save my mom”.

And then! Batman throws away the spear, helps Superman to his feet, hugs him and says “I promise you, Martha won’t die tonight” before they both head off into the direction where Lex was hiding Superman’s mother (which they suddenly knew because Alfred tracked the signal of the call Lex made before the fight started).

  1. Wrong character portrayal

Superman is really depressed throughout the whole movie. The whole movie. Batman kills people and Wonder Woman seems to appear at every party in Gotham showing boobs she hasn’t got and flirting with Batman.

Ben Affleck, in my opinion, looks like the Bruce Wayne of the comics and has that dark side one would expect from an alcoholic psychopath (which is what Bruce would have to be if it were real life), but as Batman he sucks balls. He can’t fight and moves way too sluggishly to be the Dark Knight. And the suit looks inflated as he is suddenly way, way bigger in the suit than when he’s not wearing it.

Back to Superman. This is a guy who once tilted the earth off its axis with ONE punch. How come his fight lasted only a few minutes? Granted Batman would have eventually won through clever tactics, but not in three minutes – and not without being paralysed. It would be a battle of epic proportions.

  1. Jimmy Olsen

In the comic books, Jimmy plays a really big part of the canon. In this movie he is killed off in the first few minutes without anybody even knowing who he is or how he is connected to Superman.

  1. Hints of the Justice League Movie

Other directors hide little Easter eggs in their movies to make you think they might make other movies about other heroes or whatever. How does Zac Snyder do it? IN A FRIGGIN EMAIL ATTACHMENT. WTF? And each of the “metahumans” in this email attachment has a really cool logo designed by some graphic designer to go along with the info Lex amazingly has on them.

  1. Wonder Woman’s reason for being in the movie

She appears in the movie because she believes that Lex has a photo of her from 100 years ago. Seriously?!?! Then she finds out he has the photo, but just leaves it there? So why bother trying to get the photo in the first place? And why does she use her bracelets to block Doomsday’s blasts when she has a shield?

  1. Superman’s hearing loss

Why is it that Superman could hear Lois Lane drowning in the middle of the fight of his life (when he was not paying attention), but when he was standing in a small courtroom right next to a suicide bomber (and had every reason to pay attention), he couldn’t hear the bomb ticking?

  1. I’m a friend of your son

Yeah, of course you are, he said Martha. And Martha seems to be okay with it after having spent the entire film watching you kick her son’s ass. Batman realizes Superman’s mom has the same name as his dead mother and instantly they become BFF’s. Which doesn’t make sense because Batman hates Superman because he’s a dangerous alien so powerful he could destroy the entire planet at a whim. But that’s cool because our mom’s have the same names so I forgive you.

They did something right though.

They managed to con all of us into watching their movie. Oh, and they had Gal Gadot. Wonder Woman is the reason this movie has a rating at all. 3/10 on the RJR Scale.index

 

 

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Married man vs Bachelor

The fairytale all bachelors THINK they live in

You, my single young stallion friend –  are NOT as “free” as you want the rest of the world to think you are.

Yes, I know you can go out to clubs whenever you want and you have like a hundred names on your phone of girls you want all your buddies to believe you have on speed dial as booty calls.

Yes, I know you have like a thousand xbox games and a fridge full of beer and you and the boys have loud weekend parties at your combined furnished pad which you share with two other single friends.

Together your group is the Mount Everest of singledom. You and your man-pose have it made man. You are the modern hunters of the concrete jungle. If cool could be likened to a movie, you guys would make the Hangover series look like a Tom and Jerry rerun. Except of course the guys in the Hangover actually had careers. And money. And well kitted apartments. And they partied in exotic locations. With hookers. And they’re all actors.

I think your idea of being a single guy out on the prowl every weekend is a lie. Worst of all, it’s a lie you tell yourself and you know it. All your friends know that you’re lying to yourself but they keep quiet about it, because they find your lie rather amusing.

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Reality check boys!

You’re not a hunter. You’re just real easy prey.

Here’s the proof to blow your mind a little:

You and your single buddies hit the club on Friday night.

You go early and make sure you have enough spending cash for drinks and whatever else you need to make it a good night. At the club, you pay an entrance fee. You walk in and head straight to the bar (scanning the area for hotties of course as you do so). At the bar you congregate with other groups of single dudes and start talking about work, and sport and hot girls.

An hour or so later, you and the group move closer to the dancefloor (not to dance – because you haven’t had nearly enough drinks for that) to have a look at some of the girls getting their groove on with their girlfriends.

You recognize one of them and she comes over for the “hello hug” before you offer to buy her a drink. She places her order and like a good boy you run over to the bar and wait in line at the now overcrowded counter. You get the drink and deliver it to said recognized hottie who is now handing out “hello hugs” to the rest of the single guys who also recognized her.

In short. You end up going home alone, a little too drunk to text the girl who gave you her number after the seventh drink you bought her in the hopes of scoring. But you didn’t score. But you have added another number to your phonebook.

She, on the other hand, had a blast with all the free drinks, the attention from at least a handful of guys, good music, great party with her girlfriends and another funny story of “omg did you see how drunk that guy was who kept buying me drinks? Shame, I gave him my domestic worker’s number because he was trying so hard – poor dude. Hahaha.”

When was the last time you went out and had a group of girls buy you drinks the whole night? When was the last time a girl you didn’t know came up to you in a club and said “hey wanna dance?” or “hey my name’s Sally, you have such pretty eyes, can I buy you a drink?”

Exactly.

Why being a married guy kicks ass

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Instead of writing a long and complicated introduction as to why being a married dude rocks, I’ve broken it down into an easily understandable list below:

  1. Boobs. Yip, married guys get to see boobs EVERY day. And we get to see boobs in real life, not just on a mobile phone screen.
  2. Underwear. Married guys have a woman’s underwear in their bedroom every day without even trying.
  3. Hugs and kisses. To a married guy, hugs are not just for “hello” and kisses are not just pecks on the cheek. Oh no. We get those really-tight-up-against-you bear hugs that usually accompany a kiss on the lips. With tongue action.
  4. Exclusivity. Not only do we get to see boobs and underwear and whole bunch of nakedness every day for the rest of our lives….but we are the only ones who will ever see those particular pair of boobies, that sexy underwear set and all that nakedness again. And that, my friend, is a resounding win.
  5. Couples discounts. Many restuarants and spa’s have them. In fact, even retreats and resorts have special couple’s rates which you wouldn’t understand the benefits of if you’re not a couple.
  6. Inside Jokes. I could tell you but….
  7. Permanent conversation. Us married guys get to have conversations about literally anything. All the time. And you wouldn’t believe it, but we get to have discussions about other women that would literally blow your mind!
  8. Next round’s on me. Unlike my single friends, I don’t have to do all the pouring of drinks at a party, and when my wife and I go out to a club or restaurant, I’m not the one who always has to pay for the next round either.
  9. Driving roulette. Married guys don’t have to drive everywhere anymore. Long road trips are way more fun now that I have a driving buddy.
  10. Touch. Us married guys get to touch a woman’s hand, hip, bum, neck, back, hair and even her nose whenever we stretch out our arms. It’s really quite amazing to think that when you’re married just a few months, you’ve already had more physical contact with a member of the opposite sex, than most of your single male friends have had in the past two years.
  11. Showers. I would bet my month’s salary that my shower time beats that of any single guy hands down, every day.
  12. Sexting. Yip, we have that too. Except it’s way more rewarding than when you’re single because guess what? Me, I’m definitely gonna score.
  13. Gym Partners. Not only do I get to go to walk into the gym with a hot woman every day…I get to leave with one wearing yoga pants every day too. And then later…I get to shower with that hot yogi.
  14. A way out. Sorry guys I can’t go to the club to get pissed with the rest of you tonight because my hot, yoga pants-wearing wife and I are doing a Harry Potter marathon with wine and snacks.
  15. Knowledge. Since being married I have gained a lot of inside info on the world of the female which my single buddies will possibly never be privi to. Like for example what girls actually think about the guys in clubs who buy them drinks. 🙂
  16. A girl is wearing my shirt. And it looks so damned sexy when she brings us coffee in the morning wearing my shirt with her hair all frizzy and her makeup faded. Mostly because she is wearing JUST my shirt.

I have about a hundred more reasons that would fill up this list, but I don’t want to completely ruin the rest of your single life all in one foul sweep – afterall you have to figure out the rest of it yourself before your favourite barman resigns.

I’m going to leave you with one last thought. Being married is not a sentence, it is in many ways, the end of one.

Eighteen Minutes Passed the Hour

If a day had only eighteen hours I would gladly spend the first sixteen musing over the thought of her. A more amorous day I find hard to imagine, and were I to be proven wrong, that day too would become only if she insisted.

I am completely and utterly bemused. Reason tugs at me – It cannot, must not – should never be. It’s not reality, it’s all just an orchestrated play. But yes it is – as real to me as the shadow that follows as each footstep takes me further from away.

Drunk in awe I am of her. A fact I wish I knew of ways to adequately say.

I blink and she is gone too long, her touch I have so long evaded for fear of what I wish to never say. I really should just come out and say it, I mean really. But what if I ruin it? What if I make this beautiful place disappear – or even worse still, what if I make her disappear? I couldn’t bare that thought. As much as I long for just a moment to hold her – just a moment – not to speak or breathe or think, just a moment to be, I cannot risk it. She means so much more to me than superficial bits and pieces.

Why exactly I don’t think I will ever be sure. But then, I don’t think everything in life needs to be validated by proof or facts or even reason. Sometimes some times are just there. And they exist as do we…the trick however is to find harmony between them. The joy lies in experiencing them for what they are, precious.

Each time that I am near I sway to the pulse of her smile and have to stop myself from saying that “gods dammit I am so swept away by you”.

And I know that even as she reads this, the sweetest grin across her face is just appearing, a giggle, a chuckle or a smile perhaps?

I know she knows, because we both know.

You inspire me. I am captivated.

Nail Polish Polka

Everything forever a mystery.

What a wonderful thing adding to a colour – something to mean.

A brush upon pearlescent.

Surface so pure.

An aesthetic to please none but the weary pools of lost endeavour.

 

Coy it becomes.

The glimmer of her smile across a place

that captivates so

this humble servant of written word.

Another stroke of nine to go as one is left so perfectly to cure.

 

Moments not even left for gone had determined this colour upon

a place where I long for mine to ever clearly be.

Touch.

The bristles sway as she controls its wash.

Moving with grace a lifetime may see never perfected, this artist does.

 

Eight to go and time stands still.

Again she looks and sees it right

enough to shift her gaze and with a slight adjust

the brush to colour another must.

 

Trivial a thought this pattern be.

For one as amazing and careful as she,

the artist drops to seven as bristles they seem just never quite right to be.

Colour this darkness true

as black and things for her it just

doesn’t seem to rightfully do.

 

A beige, a natural more reflective face

she opts for them to have.

Subtle she decides to be.

They sway slowly from side to side, this artist and her five.

 

A lover’s choir in the auditorium

of brush and subtle colour.

Just to dry and then to bed, she looked across to him and said.

Just to dry and then to bed.

Smile again my name to me

A colour none as sweet as when

pale green eyes reflect in hazel brown.

Upon vanilla breeze a jasmine petal had came to rest,

beside the window of a Smith’s desire.

 

Amazed inspired,

relentless in her joys, he found to be.

Once again

drawn.

 

From days of greys and paler blues.

Her giggles, her laughter her smile her tears.

Her smell, her ways.

He feels.

Her touch.

She.

 

Merely mortal he was and then.

Again.

Devouring a darkness that threatened to envelop him,

but then away with her he threw it all.

Up and up and upper still a kiss, a touch, a moment’s will.

Denies it.

Defies it.

 

This gravity which pulls it.

A mind, his mind, her mind their souls.

With longing his days they have been filled.

To see her feel her warmth alone.

Just sit.

 

And stare and talk some moments shared.

Not even time a welcome reprieve here will find as around them…

none but they exist.

Her arms around him and it falls.

Away.

 

The anger, hurt, defeat and pain.

Her lips so soft a gentleness.

As kindness from the space between

the corners of her smile does ease.

His untamed restless over thoughtful mind.

 

Just a kiss.

Just one more time.

And then perhaps away.

But then when past her he must walk

the steps become too arduous

for with her he longs to talk and sit and speak and touch and kiss and hold and

be just be just be just be some more.

 

Her voice a song so sweet does sing

when upon her breath it’s him she speaks.

A single fleeting whisper

he against her neck released.

And with a sigh, a smile a kiss an angel just replied.

A moment longer just a moment longer just another little moment longer.

 

Just smile again

my name to me.

 

Batman vs Superman: Who would really win?

Batman vs Superman. Let’s be honest for a second. If they were both standing naked in a ring and it were up to a no weapons, bare knuckle fist fight, Supes would definitely knock the crap outta old Brucey and win in the first round by KO. Take away super powers however, and Clark Kent would have his ass handed to him like a cheap cheerleader at the senior prom. But the reality is that Superman has super…well super everything… and he is about as close to a demigod as the DC Universe can offer. But, he lacks a few things. And those things make him weak. And weakness makes you vulnerable which in turn makes you defeat-able. Especially against an opponent such as the mighty Batman. With the big build up to the 2016 Heavyweight Championship bout, let’s do the weigh in.

The Batman

Essentially the fight between arguably the two greatest heroes in the comic book universe, will never be as simple as just a physical battle. Batman is a dark character with a screwed up past and an even more twisted psyche. He’s not the best superhero, in fact he’s not even super as he possesses not a single super power.  ultimate_batman_by_silwenga-d46l3a1But, he is driven, calculating and downright dark with a moral code as flexible as chewed up bubblegum. And he has – on more than one occasion – proved willing to cross certain lines to achieve the mission objective. If you really take a look at the character build up of Bruce Wayne, it’s frightfully clear that he has some serious mental issues. The man is a sociopath running around a city dressed as a bat for crying out loud. But, as unstable as he is, he is a master at mind games and finding opponents weaknesses – and using those against them is what makes him dangerously underrated.

Pro’s

  1. Trained Fighter – he is a trained martial artist and strategist (thanks to his time in the League of Shadows).
  2. Skilled Warrior – He has had plenty of fight experience since childhood.
  3. Tough as Nails – he has survived many attempts on his life and still made a come back. (Even when Bane broke his back)
  4. Armed – Batman has an arsenal of only the very latest in weaponry at his disposal.
  5. Ruthless – He doesn’t spare his enemies.
  6. Intelligent – He is smart and calculating.
  7. Prepared – he studies his opponents and always knows what they will be doing next allowing him to plan ahead. (This is thanks to the fact that he is just mortal and has had to deal with many a superhuman in his career).
  8. He is not a good person. As quoted from Batman: Hush                                         “If Clark wanted, he could use his superspeed and squish me into the  cement. But I know how he thinks. Even more than the Kryptonite, he’s got  one big weakness. Deep down, Clark’s essentially a good person… and deep down, I’m not.”

 

Con’s

  1. No Super powers.
  2. Superman’s best friend.

 

Superman

We all know and love perhaps the most recognizable hero in all of comic book history. We think of capes and we see The Man of Steel. He stands for “truth, justice and the American way” and let’s face it he has the ultimate man-of-steel-henry-cavill-superman-concept-art-5bouquet of superpowers. But there is one decidedly important point we all seem to forget about ol’ Supes – he is only “superhuman” while in our solar system, and more so while on earth. He gains his powers from our yellow sun and our lesser gravity, but he would be an average guy back on Krypton (in fact he would probably be bullied). See what happens when he faced Zod? He got whipped. Because Zod, like Supes, is superhuman here on Earth, but Zod has actual combat training. Nonetheless, he is Superman and the fight in question is against a mere mortal so here goes the pros.

Pro’s

  1. Heat Vision – He could literally fry Batman from a mile off.
  2. Freeze Breath – Or just turn him into a Popsicle and then crush him
  3. Super Strength – I mean the guy has been knocked straight on the kisser by The Hulk and still got up for godsakes.
  4. Super Speed – his punches travel at just under the speed of light.
  5. Flight – He can pick Bats up and fly him into outer space.
  6. Bulletproof – Or basically anything human proof.
  7. Super Intellect – because he’s super and stuff.

 

Con’s

  1. Kryptonite – All his enemies know it kills him, and all of them know where to find it.
  2. Red Sun light – It removes all his superpowers.
  3. Magic – Superman has no resistance to magic and has on more than one occasion fallen under the mind control spell of some or other magical being. He also has his ass handed to him when he faces an opponent who is magical like Thor or Captain Marvel.
  4. Batman’s Best friend.
  5. He is a good person and that alone always gets him.

 

In summary

Because of Superman’s inherently good nature, he never uses his full power and always holds back. His greatest weakness is the fact that he is such a goodie-goodie with a major conscience and never allows himself to step over the line. He is predictable and his greatest weakness plays right into the greatest strength of Batman. Batman has an advantage mentally over the boy in blue in that he knows him. In fact, in the comic books, Superman actually charges Batman with the task of putting him down if he ever went rogue to “save humanity”. That means that from the start of the fight Superman already has an inferiority complex.

Batman for the win. What do you think?

 

 

Winter’s lesson lies hidden in Spring

Spring is in the air as we ready ourselves for flowing floral dresses, knee high pants and our favourite pair of strapless sandals. Soon, the trees will start to blossom as they do each year and swarms of bees, chirping birds and sunny rays will bring our gardens exploding back to life. But it wasn’t always like this. Not a week ago we still experienced the last lashes of a delayed winter and one would have been hard tasked to pinpoint exactly when summer said it’s goodbyes. Three months into winter and we can hardly imagine what it felt like to walk outside without a jacket or leggings. People complain about the cold and the stuffy noses and miserable moods that winter brings, forgetting that without winter there could never be sunshine, for along with all the ailments, weight gain and apparent moodiness, Winter brings us the gift of spring – or rather the appreciation of it.

There is a lesson that winter brings

We prepare for winter by stocking up on jackets, scarves and woolly hats and bid it farewell by discarding them. In life too, we continuously discard and replenish as we wade through our personal seasons. And it is personal, as each of us experience change in a different way. Change is scary for all of us no matter whether it be good or bad, in fact there is no bad change only a negative perception of something unknown – change therefore, is relative. To illustrate this point, one could look at a rose bush and be sad that it has thorns, or be happy that the thorns have roses. The trick is to ready yourself always for an approaching winter, knowing that everything is fleeting and that if good exists then so too there must exist the opposite in order to restore balance. Manic depressive sufferers struggle to see the rays that their Spring brings, because they refuse to look outside the window. So there they stay, stuck inside the circumstances they have created around themselves. Most of the time those circumstances are related to financial stress and the instant they come into some money, they feel empowered once more – until the next winter hits. In the summer months we don’t sell our jackets and winter wear, because we know that the season will change and we will need them again. The same outlook should be adopted when we look at our personal lives.

It is not about the money

The greatest lesson winter teaches us is that we need to learn to let go of our routines and hold onto change. Let go of the things and people in our lives that keep us locked up inside, unable to experience the joy of Spring, the freedom of change. Learn to take chances, dance in the rain, phone your loved ones, kiss your children as often as you can, roll on the grass, walk to the store, if you like green apples, buy red ones, ride a bike to work, smell the pages of a book, switch off your phone, turn on the radio and play it loudly – smile. Forget about the confines that social media and corporate marketing forced around you. Surround yourself with good people instead of good things, because in the end it is the things you own that end up owning you. Wear your heart on your sleeve, you never know, somewhere there might be someone who needs to see it. In all things never forget that winter will come, and it will pass, but when it comes be prepared with memories that warm more than just your hands.

You can stop reading now Mom

I’m having a beer as I write this – it’s a cold one I kept at the back of the fridge next to the apples, especially for today. I don’t really drink much, but the last time I wrote you something, mommy, was 14 years ago – and it was a goodbye which I had to read to a bunch of people who never knew you the way that I did. So come on, have a seat, let’s reminisce a while…

Twenty nine years ago you asked if you could marry my dad. I was only six then and we were standing in the kitchen making hotdogs on a Saturday afternoon. Has it been that long? I will never forget your smile when I hugged you and said “yes, Blommie, I don’t mind.” As if you really needed my blessing. My sister was tiny then, four, I think – but she came running in and hugged your other leg tightly as if she also agreed.

Right there in that kitchen my life began. Right there, I met the first woman who ever loved me. I know it sounds corny ma, but you were my first love.

Remember that time, I think I was in high school, when I walked into your sewing room while you were typing on the computer and challenged you to type every word I read from Stephen King’s Pet Cemetery? Hehe, I started reading and your fingers danced across that keyboard like tap dancers on a wooden stage – 110 words a minute, was it? Anyway, you suddenly stopped and I boasted, “what’s the matter, can’t keep old lady?” You looked up and said, “no, you read too slow.”

I can’t tell you how many times since then I’ve chuckled to myself about that, because now, I type faster than you. Okay almost, but the point is that I type because of you, and now, for you. You read this time mommy, and I’ll say stop.

I’ve never again heard the words “I love you” said quite the same way as when you used to remind me how much I meant to you. Until the day I repeated them to my own children. I have a son and daughter now and they know all about you, don’t worry – only the good bits I promise. I wish that they could have met you in person, you would’ve been an awesome grandma and I’m certain my daughter would have hugged your leg as well. My son would have spent hours on your lap playing with your chains. I think my sister kept your jewellery, but it doesn’t really matter because we both kept all of you.

You would’ve loved some of the people in my life too, and I’m pretty sure a few of the women would have had a very stern talking to – the last one especially – you would have warned me about her. And when I didn’t listen, you would have warned me against myself.

I am okay though, I found you in the lady you sent me to. She reminds me so much of you, I’m sure you would have made a formidable team. And she keeps me inline just like you did – between the two of you I’ve become me again.

I remember everything about you, I remember your life and I remember what all of that meant to mine. This letter has been a long time coming and every year I promised you that I’ll write and let you know how I’m doing. See? I remembered that too.

There is so much I want to tell you, so much has happened, but we’ve run out of time. The kids need to get to bed and the workload on my desk has started swaying on its own already, it’s deadline tomorrow. I wish we could do this more often, I wish you didn’t have to go just yet – but I know you’ll come back again, let me see you every so often.

I wanted you to know that I still feel your hugs, I still smell your perfume at times and I’m sure just the other day I saw you sitting on the floor, playing with the kids. I wanted you to know that it’s been a struggle, but I haven’t given up, I haven’t let them beat me. I just wanted to let you know that the little blonde haired boy you hugged in the kitchen that day has grown to be a man you would have been proud of.

But what I really wanted to say is happy birthday mommy. And happy mother’s day – I remembered the flowers this time, but someone ate your chocolates. I miss you today. I miss you every other day. Love you too much mom.

You can stop reading now, I’m beginning to type too slow.

What I would say to the younger me

I read something quite profound today. It was on one of those really stupid e-card things, but for once, instead of inducing an uncontrollable scroll-the-mouse-wheel reflex, this one actually made me think. A little. The card read “ask yourself this: would your younger self like the adult version you’ve become?”

That moment when

Wow. Like the first time you see boobs kinda wow. Or that time you kissed that girl behind the grandstands and walked home smiling all the way – even though you knew you were half an hour late and dad was waiting for you with his belt at the ready. Man, it was worth it, and you’d probably do it again regardless of the outcome. (And I actually did – quite a number of times after that, he he).

I remember the day in the first grade when our teacher, Miss Barnard, asked the class what we would like to be “one day when we grow up”. The boy next to me wanted to be a policeman, the ponytail in the front (goodie two shoes) wanted to be a teacher, of course, and my friend James was aspiring to greatness as a pilot. Me? Well I wanted to be Superman.

The Epiphany

Miss Barnard, James and even Ponytail didn’t get it. But I did. I wanted to be my dad. He was invincible, bulletproof and how the hell did he manage to lift me up just like that – with one arm? He was a werewolf killer, a boogieman hunter, a detective of note and never, ever did he cry. I’m pretty sure he had a blue spandex with a red cape hidden in some secret superhero cupboard somewhere. (My sister and I will probably find out one day.)

He’s in his sixties now, and he still has his powers – although I’m convinced he only uses them now when it’s absolutely necessary. The point is, he’s still tough as nails. I recon life made him this way because it was an easier task than trying to get him to quit. He is a man who has had his back up against the wall many times, and never backed down – instead he pushed back harder. “They can kill me, but they can’t eat me,” he always says. I believe that to this day.

So would I like myself?

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The present day me.

Actually, yeah, I kinda think I would. At least I hope I would (if not, I could probably give the younger me a wedgie until he did. Or I did.) But the older me hasn’t done too badly really. Sure, I’ve made mistakes and Ive hurt people along the way, but it was never intentional and there are times I wish I could go back and prevent those happenings. But generally speaking, I kinda think Ive done alright.

I’ve traveled the world without any money, played in a real life rock band, lived in more places than I remember – mostly because I was fresh outta cash and couldn’t pay the rent, partied till the sun came up and even, almost, got hitched. It was tough, but I survived.

I have two beautiful, healthy kids whom I’m trying to raise by myself and I am fortunate to have friends and family helping out with that. Went through a terrible break up, lost my job and had to sell everything I owned a few times over to make ends meet – but I survived.

I’ve had my car repossessed, walked my son to school for three months during the winter until I eventually managed the cash to buy an old ’84 Honda which took another two months to get running. I lost some weight during that time, but I survived. During this time my daughter was born. I was forced to work three jobs to make ends meet. But I survived.

It has been little over a year now that I’ve been unemployed in an effort to follow my dream of owning my own magazine. I sold every little piece of furniture I owned to pay the rent – again. Lost the apartment I stayed in because, well there was that little cash issue. Many told me to go get a job in the months that I couldn’t pay my rent or even put petrol in my car. I refused. Three months ago the first edition of my magazine – The Planner’s Notebook – hit the shelves. The second edition is printing in three weeks by the way. So far, I’ve survived.

Even Superman has a weakness

Mine is love. It is the one area I seem to keep screwing up. And again, this is not because I want to screw up, but rather I obviously don’t get “the game”. Or I do, but I’m over it. This “game” is starting to become more and more appealing to the spectator in me. I could rant on about this, but I won’t – this blog is already way passed the attention span limit of most readers. I will say though that the further you keep away from your own kryptonite, the safer you will be.

So what’s the point?

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The younger me.

My point is that I probably wouldn’t like myself as an adult. But more importantly I wouldn’t care about the opinions of that younger me. In retrospect I probably wouldn’t like the younger me. In fact, if I could travel back a few years and meet the younger me, there is something I would say to him. He wouldn’t get it until now. “Pussy”.

That illusive corner piece

Sobering. That’s what it is really. The moment when you find that corner piece of the massive puzzle you’re trying to piece together. Most of the time it was staring you in the face but the rest of the pieces laying all muddled up around it, had hidden it from your sight. So you take that corner piece and put in place to start building the frame work. Suddenly, as the pieces start sliding into place you notice that the picture on the box looks a little different to the one you’re trying to put together.

“Why is that,” you ask as another piece locks effortlessly in. “Why is it that the pictures on the boxes of things differ so dramatically from the one you spend so many days working on creating?”

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Is it not maybe in that where the problem lies? Maybe we should stop trying to build a picture and instead, take a step back, look at the box and ask yourself if you really have the time to build that 1500 piece. And once you’ve pieced it together you face another conundrum – where to find a space for it in your home. Do you break it up, put it back in the packaging and trade it at the local pawn shop or do you throw it into the cupboard next to the rest of the puzzles you only half finished?

Or you could try and mount it on a cardboard, frame it and hang it on a wall somewhere to show off to everyone. And this will be fine too, until someone comes along, looks at the picture and explains how he also pieced that same one together, and he did it in half the time. Your first instinct is to retort with “what? This same puzzle? But how could you have done it in half the time it took me to get this far? I’ve spent so much time meticulously piecing it together and loving every moment spent on it.” And then it hits you. It’s only a puzzle, just like every other puzzle. And this one has a price on it, like every other one. And a puzzle doesn’t care who wants to build it, it only cares that it is being built.

So why then does it feel so profoundly shit knowing that your puzzle, that one you really wanted to complete and display proudly in your home, also hangs on the mantelpiece in some other home? Is it because the puzzle itself is not the art you thought it was, because before you bought it you believed that it was unique and now, you realize it actually isn’t. And is this really the case with all art? Or is the only truly unique piece, the one that goes to the highest bidder to ensure its authenticity.

Like I said, sobering. And hangovers hurt like a caning on a wet bottom. But hangovers, like your desire to build puzzles, pass. And then we feel better. And then we decide to build another puzzle…maybe this time one that we created ourselves. And maybe this time one that will be a perfect fit on that empty space above your bed.