Guess Who’s Back???

It has been a long time since I last posted a blog article, and I am ashamed of myself.
You see, I had made a commitment to myself that I will post about two articles on WordPress every single week, and months have gone by since I have even shared a quote, and it’s a damn shame, because a man is only as good as his word.

Yes I have failed to keep my word, but please hear my plea, because I believe I really have some valid reasons for my “incompetence”.
First of all, things ain’t always that black and white, and your whole life can be turned upside down in just a moment. The last thing I remember is me writing my book peacefully and hoping to publish it soon and buy a stroller for my baby, and then the next moment I had no baby, or book, money, friends and not even a place to stay, and all that in just a blink of an eye.

I then took a job at retail trying to pick up the pieces, and before I knew it, I had went from selling expensive ladies perfumes and underwear to packing tin fish at Walmart and feeling like a damn idiot, and thinking to myself, “at least at my first job I interacted with beautiful ladies”.

I’m a very passionate author, so as much as I know how much of a waste it is for me to be pushing trolleys, packing tills and stock whilst I could have been just writing, I also know I just have to do it, it’s either that or go homeless boy.
And I cross my typist fingers that soon enough someone will spot my potential as I’m standing shamefully behind a trolley. Amen.

And I promise to check in on WordPress whenever I get a chance.

God bless you all.

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Time Flies On Your Day Off

I work at retail, so my average day is “targets”, “targets”, and more “targets”. And oh, smelling like perfumes we can’t afford, putting on colgate smiles even when we actually want to punch a customer on the throat, and running like athletes selling clothes we can’t equally afford.
In retail, a person is expected in a day to make more money than he earns in a whole year, and if you think that is preposterous, wait until you see the staff dancing like Michael Jackson celebrating having sold goods worth R58 000 in a day and met their “targets”, and in the end earning about R2 100 in a whole damn month, what about meeting your personal targets?Bad-Tour-Billie-Jean-michael-jackson-13443788-800-1200
Anyway, this piece isn’t about how the rich gets richer and poor get poorer because their sweats and tears are responsible for the richer’s riches and only if they could employ that very same level of commitment towards attainment of their own personal goals. This piece is just about time, not in some deep philosophical way, but just about regular hours on my days off.

I may not be necessarily patriotic about reaching targets of R58 000 a day, R 400 000 in a single week and R 1 2400 000 in a month whilst being compensated around R 25 000 a year, but I still love my job. I love keeping busy, being around people to study human behavior, smiling at beautiful ladies and being of “service”, I work with about 90% women colleagues and 100% female customers, so what’s there not to love?

Loving my job as I do, I can’t help but feel time loves us just as much. Work hours are not regular hours; at work, you stand up, dust rakes, hang clothes, sweep the floor, open the door, assist about 80 customers and check time, and it’s only been about 15 minutes; the very same 15 minutes you lose as soon as you pull out a sit on your tea break.

And time on your day off isn’t from the same clock as a work day. Today I was off, the plan was to wake up early, do my house chores, write blog articles, read, spend some quality time with my girlfriend, go lvisit my friends, and listen to the ‘Think And Grow Rich’ audio book. But, I woke up, decided it was still too early so I went back to bed for a couple of minutes (and woke up three hours later), by then it was too late for house chores and so I called my girl over and in a blink she had left (after about five hours), so I just went for a haircut and the barber was extremely efficient (in about an whole hour), and so after that I couldn’t read, write, listen to my audio book or hang out with my boys, so I just went to buy a take away because it was too then late to cook, and surprisingly, all the shops were already closed.
And there goes my day off.

Does Being A Pervert Make Me Such A Bad Person?

SEX, SEX, and more SEX= My average thoughts on an average day.
I’m not really certain if I should really write this one, but since I’ve went as far as putting my laptop on my lap I might as well. Welcome to forth base.

A woman breastfed next to me the other day, I couldn’t help but stare at her “titties”, so much that she had to stop and I felt so horrible as the baby started crying, the little man must have been not full. This other time I worked as a security guard, and this man and his wife had just purchased underwear for the Mrs., and as they walked out my alarm beeped and I had to search for tags still stuck in their packaged, and as I opened it my eyes glowed like a boy with a new toy, and the husband whispered in my ear; “Merry Christmas son”.

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Does it all make me a bad person? Yes I sniff panties, masturbate, and randomly stare at strange women and fantasize about having sex with them.
My granny would be so ashamed of me, she raised me by the ways of Christianity and I know that fantasizing about adultery is a sin as actually committing it, but the last time I went to church I got an erection in the Lord’s house as I sat behind a lady with a booty so big that I could see the panties line underneath her long skirt, but then again I always have been so “vigilant”, hallelujah.

That was back in 2005 or 6, I’m a grown man now but I still have hormones of a 16 year old boy, and they embarrass me every day.
I often feel like Don Jon, my relationships often include me, girlfriend, dirty Facebook and twitter pages, pornhub and Vaseline, so my righted hand still aches as it did back in high school.

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Does this entire make me a bad person, or just a shallow one?

I still read, write, treat other people well, pray to God (although I no longer go to church), and pay my taxes, but, I’d still sleep with the 1st lady that might walk through that door.

Does that make me such a bad person?

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About Ubuntu

When I joined WordPress I never introduced myself properly, my apologies, I’d like to rectify my mistake, hopefully it’s not too late.

Ubuntu is my legacy. Most artists’ earlier work is never discovered, and I’d be dammed if the same happened to mine, so I’ve decided to store my stories, articles and poetry here, to make it easier for future literature scholars to discover them some day, and share them with a larger audience hopefully.

I have struggled a lot, from my parents leaving me to be raised by grandparents who never truly wanted to, as I struggle with sharing a sense of belonging to this very day. To living with my dad and stepmom, daddy was an alcoholic so he never truly was around and stepmom drew a line so vivid between “step” and “mom” that even a blind person could see it. Needless to say it didn’t work out in the end, so my aunt took me in, but reminded me every single day that nobody else wanted me, manipulated my gratitude and expected to be sung praises to like she was in fact God, The Book Of Yeezus. Mom only returned around my 10th grade, she and dad had reconciled by then, but he was then unemployed due to his alcoholism which significantly consumed him, so he was a nightmare to live with, not only were we that poor, but we were also abused, so picture being kicked in your “empty” stomach for no bloody reason at all.

Long story short, it is indeed a miracle to be sitting behind a computer screen and writing articles instead of being in a grave, or facing time in a maximum security prison. The day I had to grace prison, the victim dropped all charges. He gave us a second chance, as God did in countless instances that my crew “collided” with other crews and we came back in one piece. And God gave me a second chance, when he ensured my absence the day my close friend stabbed a man to death and was sentenced 25 to life.

My greatest tales are my greatest shames. No one has ever truly understood me, my high school teachers told me I had no potential to be anything at all, fellow students constantly mocked me and ostracized me, that loneliness has stuck with me to this very day, so much that in tertiary I only said about 10 words in a 3-year whole course, and in every job I’ve ever had I’d just read my book peacefully during lunch breaks that eventually co-workers would get me fired.

I’m currently unemployed, so this blog is to keep busy, make new friends and prevent insanity. I will tell you a lot about myself, assume a lot about you and the world around us, if you have so much time to yourself as I do, you happen to become very “creative”, trust me. Hopefully someone out there will relate, even it’s just one person, I will have fulfilled my duty.

I dream big, too big, and I want everyone with dreams as big as mine to know that they are not crazy, and to not let non-dreamers discourage them anyhow, even if it’s your best friend, lover or even your mama, they can’t tell you what you can or cannot be, the world is your oyster.

And to my dad, Rest in Peace Cowboy, we have forgiven you, forgive yourself as well. To my late son, daddy loves you so much, and he would have climbed mountains and swum with sharks just so you could have one good ass life, Rest in Peace young solder.

And to the rest of the world, I appreciated you reading this to these very last words, and hopefully it’s not the last time.

Thank you so much, and my apologies again for not doing this sooner.

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