Burn the boats.

Intellectually I understand the philosophy of knowing that things do not have to be as a wish they were, and often I act this out. To hold this belief that my life must be structured in a certain way causes anguish, and to know this and still participate in this mental construction is a kind of metaphysical self-harm. I’ve been known to do this…often,  I guess I’m just an all-or-nothing kind of guy. This all of nothing approach works in many aspects of my life as it eliminates any distractions from side-ventures, options and plans, and allows me to dedicate all of my focus on the main project. Understanding this, hopefully will help you understand why I put all my tofu in one basket, roughly speaking; is this a feature or a bug?

Do you ever see something and just that you must have it? “I want that one, that’s the one that I want” – a common phrase echoed in children stores in the western world. As we get older, this doesn’t particularly fade, the object(s) of desire just change, and often this fixation in the source of much heartache. It produces an uncomfortable feeling in the bottom of your stomach, this feeling is a manifestation of the unknown. This is unmapped territory, your mind doesn’t understand what this terrain is and it knows not what it means; it’s a scary place, that’s for sure.

You will spot the glimmer of gold among the rubble with ease, this is not like finding a needle in a haystack, it’s more akin to finding a haystack in a pile of needles. I spot golden traits as if they were glimmering gold; My eyes locate the gold among the rough, the hope in the darkness and the positive in the negative.

I want that one”, an all-or-nothing attitude with almost guaranteed heartache.

I wish I was an emperor penguin.

I’m myself every second of every day, but lately, I’ve been feeling increasingly discouraged to continue, should I wear this socially constructed facade?

In tribal times, being different meant putting the group in danger; failure to conform meant you were the weakest link, an unreliable chink. However, in modern times, societal norms do not directly protect us from danger, however, they do uphold the cultural status quo. Think, why do so many people feel unworthy, or not enough? Unworthy, not enough, in the eyes of who? In reference to what? In order to feel unworthy, you must feel unworthy in the presence of a standard, a reference point.  Culture is the reference point. The ideal body displayed on your feeds, the narratives of motion pictures, and the imagery in Instagram marketing; 12 hot tips to lose 35% of your body weight so you are summer ready! Culture infiltrates your mind every day, you are a subject in a grandiose and cruel experiment; they call this experiment life.

We’re constantly told to be ourselves, but what the fuck does this even mean? Does being myself mean thinking and acting uninhibited, doing whatever I fucking please? Oh no, you can’t do that…that’s not socially acceptable. To discourage some fucking behaviour but encourage others? Who the fuck are you to decide?

At age 7 I was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome, a mild form of autism. I didn’t have many friends until I was legally an adult. I grew up socially isolated because I didn’t conform; it’s not that I didn’t want to, I just didn’t understand that I had to, nor did I understand any aspect of social interaction. Sure enough, this left me alone and vacuously depressed; my life pre-eighteen was nothing short of hell. As an adult, I read stories romanticising the strong correlation between tech entrepreneurs and Asperger’s Syndrome; this gives me hope, however, they have left out the struggle.

Every day I struggle. Every fucking day.

Always embodying the energy that is me, wearing a genuine smile, looking out for the well-being of others, and seeking to always brighten each person day; I don’t understand why I feel so isolated? It cuts deep when the person that I am is not enough; is there something wrong with who I am? To be myself means I exist outside of the group, I must stand outside in the cold alone. This is the daily price that I must pay, an inescapable tax on living.

It’s not all bad though. I possess an energy that others do not comprehend, and yeah, neither do I; I can go 12 hours a day, all day, every day. Every second of every day the force that is my mind is analysing the world, observing patterns and formulating theories. This force is almost unbearable, but somehow I’ve managed to focus it toward improvement, rather than destruction (when I was younger, I did battle with this unrelenting self-destructive energy). I can think outside the box, and solve problems in unconventional ways. Now, I can’t validate the truth of this, but I hypothesise that it is because I do not, and have not ever conformed to the cultural group-think. There are definitely upsides that I feel in a big way, but is it worth the feeling of ostracisation, and the cold lonely breeze?

Today I am fucking angry, but tomorrow is a new day. Another day to get up, walk, run, and then trip, stumble and fall right back down again.

I wish I was an emperor penguin, at least they stand out in the cold together.


The life-force that compels me originates from a raging flame nested deep within my heart, and this inferno gives birth to all ideas. I wouldn’t say that they are my ideas, as that would imply that I generated them and this couldn’t be further from the truth. These ideas are born within me as if transposed by another entity or force unknown to me, and then they possess me. The idea sits at the helm of my consciousness, gripping the reins with such intensity, controlling my movements; the idea must be free, it is planning an escape. Against my will, I rise out of bed flicking the light on the way to my computer where I am once again thrown into a familiar throne. My hands dance across the keyboard, my mind blank. No analysis is exerted on these ideas, it acts on pure bodily felt emotion recognised by the idea at the helm; my pre-frontal cortex has lost jurisdiction.

My fingers halt, and I look up and observe the words that the idea possessing me has woven…my master delights.

My eyes open, the idea performs a self-exorcism, and now, I am free.

Within us exists an eternal ember, and to give rise to creativity you must feed the fire and fan the flames.

Feel it deep in your bones, do not criticise. Creativity exists as something new and by definition, new things have no matrix in which to judge and compare it. Creativity is not right or wrong, it just is.

Feel your creative ember burn inside you, you can turn it into an inferno.

Sore thumbs.

I’ve got sore thumbs.

These thumbs have tried to force a triangle through a circle so many times, and these thumbs ache a dull pain. The more I push, the more my thumbs ache, it’s clear that this isn’t working; to relent goes against my nature, a dull ache that I continue to feel.

My thumbs traverse the glass surface in pursuit of my goal, a futile attempt at forcing a triangle through a circle.

You give me sore thumbs.

Cognitive misdirection.

My world is a war zone and my senses have committed an act of treason. Engaged in an operation, they have coloured my perception with cognitive misdirection. How can I orient myself in the world properly when external stimuli can no longer be trusted? Imagine if when a particular event occurred you believed for certain that you knew the meaning of it, only to later reveal your error in perception. Now multiply this scenario by 365 and you have an accurate representation of my mind. A focus on detail; all senses stuck on magnify, seeing only the letters and failing to observe the sentence.

Context matters.

Now what to do about this? I’ll let you know when I find out…


Suspended in free-fall, held up by the force of a hundred thousand butterflies.

My entire being overflowing with warm vibrations, oscillating at a frequency forgotten.

My feet swept out from the mapped path under me, o’ lady uncertainty, what do you have in store for me?

Her smile reinvigorates, the surface of the sun does not come close to the warmth I feel.

You make me feel alive.


I wonder what the future holds, open, unafraid and ready to embrace. A metamorphosis from boy to man, student to teacher. My energy was once guided, I was lost; I am ready to guide, but knowing always I will be guided still.

There is hope, a clearing through the trees.