Mi Dios, El Terapeuta – Pensamientos #6

(Escribo esto para practicar español. Por favor dígame donde me equivoco, especialmente con los tiempos).

He escrito el mismo cuento (más o menos) en inglés y alemán, pero quiero escribirlo en español.

Hoy es un día como todos los demás: no hago nada, solo pierdo tiempo mirando Supernatural (es sobre los hermanos que cazan fantasmas y demonios, pero generalmente es muy gracioso), jugando Endless Legend (un videojuego), o leyendo libros de CS Lewis y GK Chesterton (los dos eran sumamente inteligentes).

¿Por qué hago nada?

Porque no quiero pensar en mis problemas, en mis elecciones. En momentos como estos escribo algo en este blog.

Pero a veces hago algo diferente: salgo afuera (con un café) y hablo con Dios. Lo digo todo lo que me preocupa. No espero que me contesta, solo tomo un momento para darle mi mente (y todo que esta dentro de él).

Es lo que me gusta de él: siempre allí para mi. Siempre mi terapeuta.


The Paradox of Christianity

A century ago G. K. Chesterton, at the time I believe still an agnostic, noted an odd dimension of Christianity. He would read one book about how evil Christianity is because it was so fierce during the crusades… and he would agree. The next moment he would read a book on how evil Christianity is because of its overly pious monks. A very strange monster this Christianity must be for both of these facts to be truths.

But let me draw you deeper.

Throughout the Psalms, and through a lot of modern Christian music I notice a similar aspect: that of pain and joy, coinciding together in some transcending level of happiness.

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? … But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing the LORD’s praise, for he has been good to me.

Psalm 13:2, 5-6

“Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favour again? Has his unfailing love vanished forever? Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?” Then I thought, “To this I will appeal: the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand. I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”

Psalm 77:7-12

Why this? Does that make any sense at all? A few years ago I did not understand this. I considered psalms like these to be structurally nonsensical. If you want to talk about pain, talk about pain. If happiness, talk about happiness. Why throw in the happiness after a section on pain? That doesn’t make sense. It’s an insult to both the pain and the happiness.

At least that’s how I thought. And I’m pretty sure most of the world would think the same thing.

There’s a wreckage, there’s a fire

There’s a weakness in my love

There’s a hunger I can’t control

Lord, I falter and I fall down

Then I hold on to the chains You broke

When You came and saved my soul

Save my soul

Then this:


We are free to struggle

We’re not struggling to be free

Your blood bought and makes us children

Children, drop your chains and sing

The Struggle – Tenth Avenue North

If I were an atheist I would simply look at this and think “What absolute madness! God is giving you that pain, yet for some reason you take joy in it like a masochist?”

Going deeper…

But all I hear is what they’re selling me

That God is love, He isn’t suffering

And what you need’s a little faith in prosperity

But oh, my God, I know there’s more than this

If you promise pain, it can’t be meaningless

So make me poor if that’s the price for freedom

Then once again:

Don’t stop the madness

Don’t stop the chaos

Don’t stop the pain surrounding me

Don’t be afraid, Lord, to break my heart

And bring me down to my knees

Don’t Stop the Madness – Tenth Avenue North

What insanity is this?! He promises pain? You don’t want this to stop? If this is God, I don’t want anything to do with Him.

And yet… and yet… this makes so much sense, doesn’t it? It makes no sense at all, I’ll give you that. But still… At an intensely deeper level my soul cries out, saying: “Yes! This makes sense! Absolute sense!”



Be on your guard; you will be handed over to the local councils and be flogged in the synagogues. On my account you will be brought before governors and kings as witnesses to them and to the Gentiles … “Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child; children will rebel against their parents and have them put to death. You will be hated by everyone because of me, but the one who stands firm to the end will be saved.

Matthew 10:17-22

P. S. If you truly want a logical explanation for pain and suffering, let me know. I can give you one.


Your Beautiful Tears

It’s your birthday today. Or was it yesterday? Is it a coincidence that I dreamed about you on your birthday?

The dream was odd and yet beautiful. All I recall was you coming down the stairs as you cried your heart out. As you did so my heart burned for you. I don’t recall caring for any person at any moment as much as I did then. Then I held you closely in my arms. Holding you was the most amazing feeling I’ve had in my life. It was then that I wondered why I haven’t married you.

Warmth in the Cold by yuumei

The Anti-Intellectual Intellectual

Screw all of the decorum and formality. People think if they are courteous, well versed in words, have relatively high grades and think differently that they are by default “smart”, “intelligent” or “intellectual”.

Did you know that 6 out of 10 people consider themselves above average in intelligence? Think about that for a moment. I’ll wait… The average ought to be “5 out of 10”. Yet 6 out of 10 think they are intelligent. That figures, doesn’t it?

I despise smart people. I really do. Not the really smart people, of course. No. For those I have the utmost respect. I’m talking of those who think they are intelligent. Perhaps they are, but merely being aware of it does not make you an intellectual.

For the sake of the argument let me arbitrarily make up my own definitions for “smart”, “intelligent” and “intellectual”, and proceed by condemning them all.

“Smart” is the ability to solve things. “Intelligent” is the ability to think outside the box. I guess both of them are the same. “Intellectual” is not the same as those two. Yes, intellectuals often are smart or intelligent. But here’s the thing: they don’t really have to be. To be intellectual is to understand. To understand how things fit together. To understand people.

I hate all of that. In fact, if I had read the above paragraph on someone else’s blog, my first thought would have been “Look at this pathetic ‘intellectual’ wannabe blogger who thinks that by breaking down intelligent people he is somehow putting himself on a higher plane”. In all honesty, perhaps I am doing that. I am doing that. But I despise myself for it at least.

Smart people are so ridden with ego and condescension. Their pride blinds them to fundamental truths; and in so doing they become foolish. We’ve all met someone who is so “intelligent” that he dismisses out of hands sacred truths merely for being sacred. People so blinded by their intelligence that they become narrow-minded (foolish). They have absorbed some “higher understanding” which, in fact, is just intellectual bullshit in disguise.

Come on, do you seriously think that a bunch of “intelligent” people together are talking about fundamental truths about the world? After all, they are all “intelligent” people sitting together. All of them talking about abstract political nonsense while forgetting to ponder the basic questions of life.

Besides all the talk of being “intelligent” is all the people who think they are so “deep” and “empathetic” and “religious”. Not a day goes by that I don’t see some Facebook “test” testing your “empath levels”, or whether or not you are an “old soul” or your personality type. People like to think they are empathetic and deep. But guess what, more likely than not you are not one of those things! Just wanting to be deep does not make you deep! Thinking you are a deep person, or empathetic (as opposed to sympathetic) does not make you deep or empathetic! Take a look on YouTube and look how many videos are for “smart people”, or google things about intelligence and you’ll find yourself thinking “Wow I must be intelligent”. You can delude yourself, but you can’t fool me… fool. 

This song by TobyMac is not talking about the secret society of the Illuminati. He is singing about people who think they have gained some higher “understanding” (people who have been “illuminated”), and therefore think themselves on some higher plane of existence. In short, the post and the song are about pharisees.



Another Day in South Africa

 Very short stories on true everyday events in this damn country

Somewhere in 90s

My Grandmother’s brother tied up in his home after losing a fight against three robbers.


Someone breaking into my uncle’s home, clubbing his labrador to death.


My friend and I (both 16 at the time) mugged along the road, held at knife-point while they took our phones.


Someone smashing my friend’s car window, hitting him in the head, taking his stuff.

At our residence people’s cars were broken into three times.

February 2017

People broke into my friend’s home at night, taking everything.

Someone stole my pensioner grandfather’s car battery out of the car. Arguably the thief waited for us to go buy a battery so he could take the car. I waited while my grandfather bought a battery. The store owner where he bought it ripped him off, suspiciously.

Me and my best friend held at knife point to hand over money.

April 2017

Someone breaking into my car, leaving a hole in my car door and a gap where the radio used to be. Oh and the spare wheel and GPS are gone.

June 2017

Two people broke into my uncle’s friend’s house, tying up his family and taking everything. The whole night long his 18 year old daughter was asking them, repeatedly, when they will shoot her.

The black man who sits next to my mother in their work’s bus, accused my mother of racism. She won the hearing, but the written synopsis twist everything against her, saying things like “She says scientifically black men are smelly”, even though that’s a blatant lie (the conversation was recorded). She refuses to sign this document and might end up in court for refusing to do so.


Other events

I’ve heard about a number of farm murders the last few weeks. Usually the family members are tortured to death. This is an epidemic.



I’m a Wannabe

“Describe yourself in one word”.

Mmm… It would either be “Christian” or “Wannabe”.

“Wannabe” as in “I think I am smart, but I’m not. I think I know so much, but I don’t. Astronomy is an interest of mine, but really I don’t know anything about it. I consider my self educated in politics and philosophy, but really I’m a fool.”

Honestly, I am. I had like one semester of philosophy, the politics I study is pathetic in its content, the astronomy “interest” of mine is based on knowledge I learned from children’s books and youtube videos, etc.

But oh wow I am so smart! I am so intelligent, wise, humble and good!

And then I read Romans and I am crushed. Or I read C. S. Lewis and I touch a depth of soul and knowledge I can only dream of. Or I read of Isaac Newton and Nikola Tesla and I feel like a pathetic school boy.

What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

The Extroverted Introvert

There is something called “personality tests”. I don’t care about them anymore (they are highly overrated), but I recall being placed as an INFJ (though a few months later as an INFP).

This “type” has one bit of truth which I find very fitting to myself: being an extroverted introvert. People tire me. They really do. Few people manage to give me energy, but for the most part every single one of them has some irritating quirks which sucks the life out of me like a leech.

So for the last few weeks I’ve been like a hermit: I go to class on Monday and Thursday… and then I head back home to my dog and cat, working on assignments, watching video series and reading a few things. I don’t “love reading”, by the way. “Reading” is not something you either love or hate. I like learning and I like good stories. If books are the best way to do these (as opposed to, say, documentaries or DVDs) then so be it.

Books are overrated.

Nerds are overrated.

Introverts are underrated.

But every so often I would yearn to go out. I absolutely love being out at night at some place with my friends. I love it. Yet these friends which are “extroverts” (so they say), are actually dead. They don’t want to do anything during the weak. They don’t go through trouble to do so. They just sit around at night playing RuneScape or watching TV.

Yet at school they considered me “boring” as they slept late on holidays (and on vacations) and never did anything other than play video games. The only reason they considered me so was that I didn’t (and don’t) like going out to be with a bunch of strangers.

But anyway, it is not my intention to blast friends I haven’t seen in weeks for things they said years ago. I got distracted:

I just saw a picture of the Precious Friend (see this post which has the same idea as this one), out at some campus residence event. Man that looks awesome! At night, with people you know! That’s just it, isn’t it? The best thing I can imagine is such a night event, neither too cold nor too hot, with stalls and music and events… but full of people I know. How I wish I could be there now!

But I know tomorrow they are gonna tire me again. My friends, especially those at campus, absolutely fail to just realise my situation. They never seem to consider it: I am staying at home (not at the flat anymore, although I still have access to it), driving to campus, and then after class driving back home.

Yet then WHY when you know this do you want to grab a cup of coffee after class at the flatWHY do you think, after we negotiated at half past ten to meet at half past one, that I would wait for you (because you forgot) until 1 o’ clock before going to where ever? WHY don’t you consider what I said about not wanting to drive in the dark, always taking your time, always wanting to go watch a movie at 3 o’ clock? WHY when you know I’m going to see someone else that day as well, do you just assume that I’m only going to see you?

It reminds me of that one time at school, where on the Thursday I and a friend negotiated to visit each other the next day, and then the next day, without even him realising it, that friend visited another friend. Not because he was mad. But simply because he forgot.

Or that other time, also in school, where at the start of the year we negotiated to sit at the front of the IT class (although I like the back). Then, as you were late, I sat at the front… only to see you come in later, walk past me, and sit at the back!

Or two weeks ago where you said we should absolutely go watch that film next week, only to find you watched it with your young nephew the weekend.

If all of the above cases were done out of some ill intent, I would paradoxically have been fine with it. But it’s precisely this lack of awareness by people that dries my energy up like bread exposed to a fire.

And you know, all of this caused me to lose a lot of loyalty for people. I mean the reason I’m at home and not at the flat is because if I stay there I will have a class until 12:30 on Monday… and then stay at the flat and rot until Thursday 9:30. In contrast at home I am, well at home. I have my pets, more privacy, my grandparents, my safety, etc.

For the first few weeks I stayed at the flat with the hope of seeing these two specific friends, yet I rarely did. Always cancelling our agreements or just simply forgetting.
Once again, they don’t do this out of ill intent for me. They simply do this because they don’t realise what I am sacrificing to see them.


Should I Sent You a Friend Request (again)?

Dammit. You drove me mad. You drove into depression. You consumed my life. But then I got over you: slowly and painfully (very, very painfully) I got over you. When I considered you out of my life, I removed you as a friend.

And now…

And now after two years…

We talked again. And hell did I enjoy it! To see your cute face and to hear your sweet voice. Damn, how much I miss you now!

Should I open the possibility of the past repeating itself?

Or will it be a new chapter?

Should I sent you a friend request again?

(Seriously, dear Reader, should I?)

Confidence Doesn’t Make a Pretty Guy

You know there are often times when I feel on top of the world. I would go the shops on my own, talk to friends… and even daydream about a girl.

And then every so often as I work on my phone I’ll catch a reflection, or as I sit in my room I’d see a glimpse in the mirror. And then everything just seems so hopeless. Then I just realise who I am again.

The Girl: A New Chapter? – Trip down Nightmare Lane

Ah… “the Girl”. That girl which drove me mad. That girl which really screwed up my head. That girl that helped to drive me to depression. That girl which almost cost me my friendships and my sanity. Yes, the Girl.

Hell tonight was a trip down nightmare lane. My first year at university was shit. One thing I always struggled with was a lack of transport. This was specifically problematic when I had to attend late tests or lectures. At times I would have to walk 1.5 km at 9 o’ clock at night. Not really the safest thing. Sometime the Girl would give me lifts.

Also, at that time I stayed “alone”. Not quite alone, I mean there were three other people there as well, but we almost never spoke. I was alone.

Then last year was the total opposite: I stayed with my best friend at a great place, with great varsity people, a whole different year.

And now this year… more boring but it has more in common with the first year than the second.

So today I woke up with my beloved dog and cat beside me, and headed for campus: we were going to have a public lecture by a famous muslim scholar on religion and violence. Now because my current residence – staying “alone” with one other dude – is not so safe, I had to park my car at the university’s sport place (?). This presented me with a problem: the gates close at 7, but I’ll only be finished at 8. So I guess I’m gonna have to walk… or not. I figured I’ll just use Uber.

When I arrived at university I got that chill vibe I got in first year: seeing campus grow darker and darker reminded me of that time. An eery feeling. Oh, a Whatsapp! The True Friend sent a picture of a scene in the movie, Bridge to Terabithia, which showed the lead actor looking at the lead actress waving goodbye to him. As far as I know that was the last time he saw her. “She reminds me of The Girl”, my friend said. She reminded me of her before my friend even mentioned it, but I didn’t tell him that.

It’s getting late. I can’t stand sitting here all tense in this forsaken place. I should move to the venue. I approach and… what the hell? There she is: the Girl. Odd, odd, odd. Even more odd, as we spoke she said she thought about me about a week ago and about some books of mine she still had. A week ago I was thinking the exact same thing. This is no mere coincidence; I really don’t think about her that often anymore.

So did anything change? If you looked closely at my posts about her in the post you would notice the reason she drove me mad: she had no interest in my life. Yet as we spoke tonight she actually asked about what I’m up to, what I’m studying, and stuff like that. We had a good conversation. I don’t recall having such a both-sided conversation with her in first year.

Afterwards she asked me how I’m gonna get home. After I told her she insisted that she gives me a lift. Wow, that was also just like old times.

My mind is a raving machine. Not the intellectual type unfortunately. No. It’s the type that will build multiple possible futures based on a single event. As we sat through the lecture, I again thought about what it would be like to fall in love with her again. What the conditions would be. How everything would turn out. Then I just thought: “Stop it. Thoughts like these are what drove you mad. SHE drove you mad”.

Just stop it.

(the picture my friend sent me)



She’s gonna be pissed when she realises I removed her from Facebook a few months ago.