Birds in my back yard.
(c) Cynically Jaded
Blog
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Drakensburg Mountain Range, South Africa
A view of South Africa from the Drakensburg mountain range, close to Harrismith.
(c) Cynically Jaded
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A Giant Moth
A giant moth in my back yard. This moth easily covers the entire palm of an average adult. Really amazing.
(c) Cynically Jaded
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African Moon
An African moon from my back yard. Taken with a less than professional camera. The second photo was the first time in my life that I ever noticed the full shape of the moon when it was still a crescent.
(c) Cynically Jaded
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Untethered
For me, loving another is loving the essence of their flaws and seeing the defective beauty in it as the most attractive of their charms. Finding their deepest imperfections to be perfectly imperfect. Seeing their weaknesses counter-balanced with my strengths, and their strengths complementary to my own, for I have no weaknesses when embraced by one I love. Only strength. An untethered horse is an unloved horse. It’s in being needed that I flourish. Not a neediness of responsibility, but one of desire. The greatest act to ravage the soul of a man is the denial of closure. Nothing destroys more than not knowing why.
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A Few Random Thoughts…and a rant!
I think celebrating birthdays breeds a sense of entitlement within us. Celebrating an event over which you had absolutely no influence whatsoever is superficial beyond belief. Automatically we entrench the idea that the manner in which you’re acknowledged or showered with gifts on the ‘occasion of your birth’ is supposedly a barometer to determine your worth to your significant others. What rubbish!
The way I am treated when I give of myself to those around me, how I’m appreciated in that process, and how much I’m remembered in a good way by others when I’m not present seem to me to be much more relevant markers against which to determine how others appreciate me relative to how I would like to be appreciated.
The date of your birth is nothing to celebrate. It’s how you’ve chosen to live your life in between all those birthdays that counts. Focus on occasions and I swear you will miss life itself. Wait for a specific time to do something special and your life will become routine before you know it. There’s something to celebrate every single day of our lives, but we’re impervious to it all because we’ve been conditioned to look for events worth celebrating based on predefined bullshit criteria set out by society established on pagan rituals that 99% of us are completely oblivious to.
But, it’s my bloody birthday and you will acknowledge how special I am, even if you don’t bloody mean it, right? Damn! How pathetic. Today is not my birthday. Today is my daughter’s birthday, and she turns 7. And I had the displeasure of having to explain to her why it is that just because it’s her birthday, she shouldn’t suddenly expect her cousins and family to want to gather around to acknowledge and appreciate her, when they pretty much have no time for her the moment she’s out of sight.
I think we often forget that we’re raising kids to be adults. In fact, I’m certain that we do. Look around at the irresponsible idiots that pretend to be adults these days, and you’ll immediately know what I’m talking about. How many times have you read horror stories in the news where children were involved and thought that the adult in question should never be allowed to breed? I do this often. And I constantly remind myself these days that I am raising an adult, not a child, and if I raise her to understand that fun and good times and having a carefree but responsible spirit is not limited to childhood but something to be treasured throughout her life, then I reckon I would have achieved more than most parents these days.
Too many parents are liberal apologists. They’re so afraid of being disliked by their children that they forget that they’re supposed to be providing guidance to the next generation of adults, rather than trying to expand their social circles within their offspring. But I guess at least they’re present and trying, which is more than we can say for the self-absorbed personifications of Barbie and Ken who think that children are just a necessary prop to enhance their social standing!
Blah!
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One of my greatest challenges in life has been to deal with loneliness and disappointment in a dignified manner. The urge to want to throw caution to the wind, be reckless and try to demand significance through uncharacteristic behaviour has always nagged me, but my deeply ingrained sense of restraint and control never allows it to happen.
I’m always terrified of acting in a way that will earn me ridicule. My sense of composure and my overall calm disposition belies the turmoil that stirs beneath the surface. I rarely lose my temper, and even when I do, it’s a decisive moment of sharp remarks intended to inflict maximum damage before I withdraw again and resume my normal demeanour. And often, when I’m tempted to let go and just express myself unreservedly, I quickly realise that my insignificance will make any tantrum laughable, and will probably not yield the results I hope for. And so I continue being measured and restrained enjoying nothing more than sharp wit and vicious sarcasm, often in a light hearted tone with people that rarely get the true undertones of the venom that I usually spit.
This has been a self indulgent post of hardly any truth at all.
