It’s the little things in life that matter. And the big ones too. Anything can matter. Thank you for the memories
Source: Thank you for the memories
It’s the little things in life that matter. And the big ones too. Anything can matter. Thank you for the memories
Source: Thank you for the memories
Three years ago I began the journey to what has become my life. I sat down at a corner in one of the university blocks and typed out a story. I didn’t know what to do with the story. I had many friends on Facebook who would read my posts but I needed more. I needed people who didn’t know who the1potter was to read my story.
I opened a wordpress account and over 100 posts later I’m doing what I love. I’ve moved my blog to my personal domain, www.tedpot.ninja but I’m still loyal to wordpress. Thank you to all the followers I had, anyone who read my blog and wordpress for providing a platform for me.
I’m still a good writer though, just doing it as a ninja now. Stop over my blog and catch up with my latest posts.
First of all, my condolences to anyone that has lost someone over the past week as a result of natural disasters or acts of terrorism. I stand with you. Now back to my article. Back to back has to be one of the most subliminal disses of 2015. Meek Mill just stood there taking punches like a bad photo on the net. The saddest bit was that he tried to respond and came up with some very mediocre track and took us centuries back as dark skins. Pac didn’t get shot 5 times for that and YG didn’t tell us about his six figures at Bank of America for this.
I’m like a reggae artist in most of life’s situations. I just sit back, play with my dreads (you don’t haffi dread to be rasta) and talk about things that actually affect society, like hunger, corruption, poverty, education and when I’m I getting laid next. I rarely ever take things to heart especially if they don’t physically harm me. Today however, things are a bit different. I read an article online that made me cringe. So as I’m writing this, I’m not holding back anything and have no personal feelings against the author.
The article had something to do with hookah/shisha smoking ladies and why they are the scum of the earth or womenfolk. I don’t know why hookah smoking ladies are scum of the earth and to be honest don’t really give two fecal pieces about it because I don’t smoke hookah. I feel for all the ladies that smoke this Arab delicacy and had to read through the whole article holding back tears and thinking about how lit the last hookah session was.
I have never read any of the said author’s articles and solely rely on the comment section of my Facebook page and whatsapp memes to get a clue of the content. Well, today I made the mistake of opening one of those links. It wasn’t because the headline was catchy or sensational but rather the comment a friend on Facebook had made. It read in part, “……I know so many people doing Shisha and the characteristics given here are so 0.1% true. Trying to hyperbole everything in an article sometimes just makes it loose (Her grammar, not mine) taste.” I had to see why an author would publish without facts.
This was just one of the few comments on both Twitter and Facebook of people giving their take on the article. Some agreed with her sentiments while others were clearly hit where it chokes most. I even saw a lady who did a video response in a really funny accent, a lot of passion but no factual content or conviction whatsoever. That was like a Meek Mill diss and she should go back to the studio and write a better script for her comeback, not everybody is good off the dome.
I did read bits and pieces of the article and nothing really caught my attention. It was all opinions and feelings which everyone is entitled to and if I was to skim through the article, I’d have no points to bring up in an argument. That is until I got a part that read, and I quote, “All you need is to buy her a pot of shisha and await her blackout, drag her to your car’s back seat and she is all yours.” Ok, let’s just assume for a moment a rapper wrote such lyrics. Rick Ross for example or Rich Homie Quan. In Rick Ross’s case you’d lose a deal with Reebok and if you’re Rich Homie Quan you’ll probably be Donkey of the Day.
I’m not sure the ladies commenting on this article read this bit or maybe I’m just too concerned with petty issues like subtly or rather blatantly claiming that if a lady blacks out it’s ok to get a piece of the cookie or all of it depending on your sugar tolerance levels. A few seconds ago, two ladies (I have to insist) posted comments to a post I’d commented on. The first one reads, “I read angrily…until I saw the health implications, and for once I am glad she has done the research for me.” The other comment read, “I usually don’t agree with her but this time I do. Probably and hopefully this style of writing does some good this time and captures the attention enough for people to realize the message in this article which is smoking shisha is not cool, and they need to read up on the dangers it causes to their health. As for the “raping” I think it is the reality of what happens in (It’s on not in) these crazy nights out…sometimes what people need is the harsh truth.”
She put rape in quotes! Fucking quotes! What is whoever you pray to’s name is wrong with this world? Smoking cigarettes has adverse effects on ladies to and nobody is telling us to rape them because it’s bad for their health. There is no justification for rape and no amount of harsh truths will justify it. The saddest bit is that it’s guys who are pointing out the rape bit. Most ladies are concerned of being called out for smoking hookah. Whether you smoke crack cocaine, loud, hookah or the traditional tobacco, that’s a personal choice whose dangers are well known to the users.
Feminists will fight for equality and cry foul every time over something petty but will not bat an eye lid at real issues. This is a lady saying it’s ok to pull down a girl’s panties if she has any on and bang her on the back seat of your car. First of all, why the back seat and why in a car? If you can afford to drive you can’t miss a place to sleep. Second of all, she’s unconscious and cannot consent to anything so no amount of euphemism can hide the fact that it’s rape.
The worst bit is that it’s coming from one of the largest media houses in the country. Anybody who’s read a book or knows how to key in searches on Google knows that ratings are what make or break a media house. Sensational journalism has become a trend and media houses are milking this honey pot dry. The article generated a lot of clicks but at what expense? Giving guys tips on what type of girls are susceptible to rape? Nation Media Group should advertise for an opening at the Editor’s office. Aga Khan must be very proud right now. The writer can write on her own platform but when she puts it on a platform that should create positive change, I’m left a bit confused.
It doesn’t make a difference whether it’s a guy or lady that wrote that article but I can bet my left testicle that if it was a guy the response would be very different. In simple terms, when a lady jokes or talks about rape casually it’s ok but if a man does it, the whole world loses its mind. It was rape when the “Mollis” clip was leaked but since it’s a lady trying to stop women from smoking shisha it can fly.
I’ve barely hit 10,000 hits since I started blogging a few years ago. Would I lose my principles over a paycheck? I haven’t received any money that would make me do so but I highly doubt I’d justify rape. I know ladies who smoke shisha and they’ve blacked out in the back seats of cars I was in but I didn’t know it was cool to rape them. Maybe if I did, I would either be in and out of court or getting similar treatment in some prison.
I’m not a woman and don’t plan on being one at any point in my life. I can’t stop any lady from smoking shisha as well. Will I just seat back and assume a lady suggested rape was ok? No! I think it’s high time we separated journalism, creative writing, reporting and garb. Too many people acting as journalists nowadays are making a profession meant to do good be the main source of excessively hydrated fecal matter.
Maybe I’m one of the few people who felt that the rape reference was out of line and borderline endorsement but then again, not everyone is offended by real issues. I’d be concerned about someone calling me the scum of my species if I smoked hookah but then again, people have called me all sorts of names for being an Arsenal fan and liking a certain type of girls; I haven’t lost any sleep yet except for 2006. I haven’t met any lady that is cool with rape yet, except for porn scenes which are scripted.
I want to stop typing but I’m still sifting through different channels to find at least 10 ladies saying it’s not right to talk about rape so lightly. It’s very difficult considering most of the ladies on this timeline are more concerned about who is right and who sets the standards for peoples’ social lives. It’s sad and truthfully disgusting that the most affected audience in this case is the unaffected parties. I’d sugar coat my words but it seems ladies like the hard truth.
There will never be equality or even equity in the world when we have ladies responding to an article about rape describing the writer’s looks. You’re more concerned that she looks hideous without make-up or she wears fake weaves than her stand on rape? If you commented on this article and never highlighted the rape issue shame on you. You would have been better as a photocopy machine or a vending machine because you cannot critically think about what you perceive. To the author and Nation Media Group, you owe more to the society than that garb you put out. Rape is rape and no matter how you put it has no justification.
Have you ever bothered asking why it’s always the good ones that have to go? I can’t blame you for leaving but what I’m I supposed to do when I’m fighting against myself. Either way it turns out; I lose.
Source: Reaching Out
I’m back again. This time I’m not sure why I’m writing this. I’ve grown up to be man. I don’t know whether you would be proud of me but mama says I’m doing fine. I have so many questions. I can write them down and pray over them but does God really answer my questions? I’m struggling between being happy and making people happy. When you said I’d be great I didn’t think I’d have to sacrifice my happiness for others.
I’m in between a rock and a hard place man. I met someone and all was going well but you know me and always finding a way out of committing to someone. I keep asking myself, what would you have done? I can’t always talk my way out of situations. I know I have a sweet tongue and I’m easy on the words but is that what you want me to do? I can’t cry anymore. People expect more of me now. Every time I’m sad, I just sit back and reminisce. Would I be in the same situation if you were still around?
Things are falling apart all around me and I’m just standing there staring out the window. You said I had a purpose. I’m I the one who was to discover the purpose or do I still have to wait for life to shine a light on my path? I’m not the same anymore. I’m less angry nowadays. I managed to rid myself of the anger of losing you and taking it out on every other human being I met. Haven’t folded my fist at anyone or even shoved a single soul. It doesn’t feel right, but you once told me a man always reasons out in times of confrontation.
How’s life on the other side? I’m old enough to drink now and I know we’d share a bottle of something if you were still around. I always drink an even number of beers. I’m a happy soul and I promise once I get a little boy I’m naming him after you. I’ll show him the same things you showed me. He’ll have to know how to treat ladies with respect and know that loyalty is more important than love. I know we’ll probably never meet again but I always have you on me everywhere I go and I still talk about you like you just went out for a drink.
I’m growing into the man you envisioned and nobody bothered to tell me how big your shoes were. I’m struggling to fit into them and I can tell you for free, it’s not easy. I fall over every now and then but I still stand tall and keep going. Your mama is doing fine. We still talk at every chance I get and share a glass of wine at least once a year. Your family’s also doing great. Your girls are all grown now and live their lives independently.
Have you ever bothered asking why it’s always the good ones that have to go? I can’t blame you for leaving but what I’m I supposed to do when I’m fighting against myself. Either way it turns out; I lose. Everyone around me is either in a relationship or getting married and I don’t even know the essence of sharing my joy or misery with another human being. I’m I supposed to love just because the world expects me to love?
Every time I pen you a letter I ask myself, did he get it or is it the voices in my head? I want to be better. I don’t want to be the best at anything, I just want to be happy and know tomorrow will be better than today. Is that too much to ask? I’m probably on track to disappointing another human being but isn’t temporary disappointment relatively less painful than a lifetime of hurt and deceit? They say it’s not in my place to decide for another human being; and I agree. But I’m the one holding the stick, so can’t I yank it out because I know how far it can reach?
I’m sorry I share your letters with the world but the people that read it may have the same struggles and have no way of dealing with it. I’d drown all this pain in a bottle or snort it but instead I share it. Does that make any sense? Isn’t it sad that instead of talking to someone I wrote down my thoughts? I’ve tried to share but they never seem to understand. What I’m I supposed to do? Put my problems in subtitles for them to get into my head? Wouldn’t I be more vulnerable with someone knowing what pulls me down?
I never asked for any of this. I don’t want the responsibility of ensuring another human being’s individual happiness. It’s getting tough man. I keep a smile even on my knees. At times I don’t even have enough energy to carry myself through the day but I still manage to carry someone else over. I’m not really sure my laughs are genuine anymore. My eyes are dry from the loss of emotion. I feel nothing anymore. I’m indifferent in the same situations I should be passionate. What I’m I to do? Count my blessings everyday even if I’m the blessing?
Everyone is in a rush to make millions by the time they’re 30. Is it wrong for me to want to enjoy my youth while I can? They tell me to sacrifice now and enjoy later. Will I get plastered when I’m 30? Will I involve my wife in menage ets trois when I’m in my 40s? Why can’t life just be simple? I’d like to work and hang out with my friends and drink. Do things people my age should be doing. Why do I have to do things simply because a blog says I should or a certain billionaire mentioned the fact that he never went out as a young man? Is being rich everything there is to life?
I have so many questions but you always answer them at your own time. Today I need you to be prompt. I can’t afford to waste my life away just to fit in. I need you to tell me, is creating my own path the right path? I’m I confused for not allowing myself to feel the pressure my peers are feeling and simply taking everything one step at a time as much as I lose a few steps along the way? Nobody understands me like you do.
They say dead men tell no tales and I’m not dead but there’s certainly less life in my life. I can’t give up. Why should I? There’s always something to fight for and I can’t miss a reason to breathe some life into my days. I guess my time is up and I have to get back to my life. I’ll leave the pen on the desk just in case I need to let you know what direction my life has taken. A response would be welcome anytime from now.
It’s probably taken me three years to sit myself down and write this down. They say it takes courage to face your fears. I didn’t have the courage and still don’t think I do. Have you ever loved?
Source: Time and Wounds
It’s probably taken me three years to sit myself down and write this down. They say it takes courage to face your fears. I didn’t have the courage and still don’t think I do. Have you ever loved? I’m not talking about that take a snap and post it to IG and use random words to describe your love kind of love. I’m talking about loving someone and putting them before your needs. I’m talking about that R. Kelly when a woman loves type of love.
So for me to actually sit down and type this, I’ve taken more than a shot of courage. As a teenager I knew nothing about how it felt to love someone and when this feeling came over me I didn’t know what to do. I was confused. Should I follow my feeling or do I just let it and maybe it’ll fade away? I took the former and hoped it would fade away. For a moment it did, but for some reason this specific girl kept creeping into my life just when I was about to move on.
In a short while I was done with high school and I could now forget her forever. She had a boyfriend, I had just broken up with my girlfriend and I was about to join university. The transition from high school to post-secondary education was seamless. I was free to do as I pleased. I could finally get a bite of the uni life. I didn’t waste time and took a chunk of it. Even in my wildest dreams I didn’t imagine it possible for me to get into the system so fast.
For a moment I’d thought of settling down and getting one girlfriend to even out the bad spells. The universe wouldn’t let me move on. I had found the perfect girl. We were both freshmen and she liked me for who I was. I liked her despite the fact that we barely had anything in common. She made me happy. It just happened that a mutual friend had a party. I had expected to see her there but she didn’t show up.
In the heat of the moment I cosied up to another girl and we got things off. She wasn’t anything like the other girl, but a bird in hand is worth two in the bush, right? We went out and in my drunken state and excitement I didn’t notice the other girl was around. By the time I noticed the other girl was all over me. I had lipstick all over my face from all the clowning. The other girl didn’t care that I’d slipped though. She walked up to me, pulled the girl from my lap and proceeded to take that position. I didn’t do much because I was happy.
I knew I’d finally found the one. But did I say the universe has a way of messing up good things? Just when we were about to get things going, my past walked up to my doorstep drenched in sadness and I caved. I couldn’t say no to her. I let the first bit of happiness I’d encountered for the first time in years just walk out of the door. I watched as another guy came along and moved in to something I’d built. I was back to where it had all started 6 years before. With the girl I loved but not really progressing with anything between us.
This time, I honestly it’d work. I was ready to settle down and she came in ready to make things work. Did it work? I don’t know. I loved her and as I said, I’d do anything for her. People talk of slavery, physical abuse and infidelity but psychological and emotional manipulation probably denied me something I’ll never get to experience. Just when I opened up and she showed positive signs of breaking her imaginary boundary, she pulled back.
She made me question myself. Was I a problem? Was I not good enough? What did I do wrong? At no time did I stop to think maybe she was the problem. Maybe I was trying to hard to salvage something that was non-existent. I swore that was the last time I would fall for the same thing. I didn’t hate her but I stayed away from her and anyone who reminded me of her. A year went by and I had finally got over the fact that I wasn’t good enough.
I met someone else. She was different. I wasn’t ready to commit my self but I took things at a pace where I wouldn’t feel at a loss after a while. I never told anyone but I knew she was the one at the back of my mind. We didn’t supplement each other but complimented each other’s personalities in our own special ways. I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression so we kept it under wraps. I was finally warming up to the idea of dating again.
Love came back to bite me in the back again and I had to look back. Who do I see? Yes, the girl I loved. This time I was indifferent. I wasn’t sure whether to be sorry for myself or for her. Either way, I let another good girl go for the simple fact that I didn’t want to be to her what this girl was to me. I had to make a choice; take this new girl and forever live with the fear that I may leave her for the old girl or let her find happiness and not put her through my situation. I chose the latter. I left but I didn’t go back to love.
I kept the love alive but from a distance. I still falter every now and then but I always get up and limp on. Someone once told me, only the wearer of the pants know the pain of being pinched by your zipper. I’ve never been perfect at anything and I learn from each passing day. Will I fall back and risk losing another ten years of my life? Maybe, maybe not. I can only say that I’m a work in progress and I know many people are suffering fro m their past out there. People will tell you to move on, it’ll be better and all that other scripted stuff. Only you know when it’ll be better. Time heals all wounds and you and I are no different. Only time can heal our wounds.
Tears speak of more than sadness,
Tears speak of passion,
Tears speak of gratefulness,
Tears speak of joy,
But tears also speak of pain.
I shed a tear,
Blissful that people care,
Humanity is alive and well,
All willing to lend a hand.
I shed a tear for the past,
The people that fought for justice,
Only for the just to manipulate justice,
To justify taking a life,
In the name of protecting justice.
I shed a tear for freedom,
Freedom of speech,
Freedom to enjoy peace,
Freedom of information,
Why did freedom have to die so young?
I shed tear for compassion,
One hand with a flower,
The other with a machete,
Why hide your intentions?
Do you want to help or look helpful?
I shed a tear of joy,
Joyful that the kids a happy,
Happy to grow,
And show the love they were shown,
I’m happy to be alive.