When I wrote my first blog post, I asked, “Why blog?”
Back then I had quite the complicated answer. In hindsight, it may have been too complicated. Right now the answer feels far simpler: I started blogging to explore who I am in the world. Four-and-a-half years and 46 blog posts later, I can now confidently say: I know who I am in the world. I am far more than can be described in words, but in the spirit of blogging, let’s try.
I am passionate—a man of extremes. Whatever I do, I tend to immerse myself fully. My time and energy are quickly consumed by it until it runs its course. Then I pour myself into something else. At times this leads to chaos because I change direction so dramatically. But for some endeavors it leads to the most ruthless commitment, because some passions will never leave me.
I am ambitious. I have difficulty acknowledging limitations. I tend to believe anything is possible if it’s pursued with discipline and passion. My ambition can be harmful. At times I spread myself too thin and make promises I cannot keep. But my ambition can also be the driving force behind my greatest achievements. The stubborn refusal to fall in difficult circumstances stems from the naïve belief that I am capable of anything.
I love to compete—to play. Perhaps no, certainly—more than my ambition, exists my childlike desire to turn everything into a game. That is to say, I like winning, but more than I like winning, I love playing. I enjoy almost everything about competition: the rules, the tactics, the subtly told stories that arise from individual competitors. If the game is physical, all the better. Athletics is one of my true passions. And because I love to compete, it’s important to me that I be capable—healthy and strong in mind and body. Mostly, this is why I train so hard: to be ready for the game of life.
Yet I am soft. I don’t enjoy conflict. I become emotional during fights and often shed a tear during a movie. I grew up in a home with my sister and my mother and was more frequently exposed to the gentler feminine nature than the rough masculine one. I still have a relatively fragile male ego, with all that comes with it, but I am more sensitive than most.
Ek is ’n trotse Afrikaner. Ek is in Pretoria gebore en die eerste vyf-en-twintig jaar van my lewe was ek daar. Ek hou daarvan om plakkies te dra en Ouma se kookkos is die lekkerste. Afrikaanse musiek praat met my hart. My familie is Afrikaans, en my familie is groot en gesellig. Maar ek is ook ’n soutie. Ek was by ’n Engelse skool, my Engels is goed, en ek is trots daarop.
I can go on and on. I’m a morning person. I can be obsessive and neurotic—irrationally stubborn and moody at times. I’m absent-minded, often forgetful of important things. I’m creative. I’m toxically positive. I think philosophically. Spiritual, even. My thoughts trend toward spirals. I idealize being in nature, and I love being in nature, but I’m a homebody, too—I love watching TV. I have a sweet tooth. I’m adventurous, yet responsible. I follow routines until I don't anymore. I almost always wear glasses. But I am surely dumber than I look. As I said, I’m all these things and more. But I didn’t know.
When I started blogging, I didn’t know. Four-and-a-half years ago, I was looking for who I was, because I didn't know. Through blogging, I tried to find words to describe the world… to describe myself. Every month I found words about something or another. The words spoke many truths; there’s no doubting that. But then, around eight months ago, the words stopped. My last blog post was in October 2024. After nearly four years of discipline—writing a blog post every month—I stopped. Not intentionally or with any forethought whatsoever, I just stopped.
Strangely, I didn’t feel bad about stopping. It surprised me because when I do something with discipline as part of a routine, I tend to feel guilty when I miss a beat. But not with this. Time passed and, although I knew there was still an important blog post (this one) I wanted to write, I was in no hurry to write it. And now I know why.
When I started blogging, I was an aperture through which the universe was looking at and exploring itself. It was just me. I was alone. Never lonely, but alone. And my blog was a canvas for my thoughts. Then I got lucky—so, so lucky.
Not long after starting my blog, I found a person: an insatiably curious, wonderfully witty, breathtakingly beautiful real person. And in time this delectable little spirit rocked my world. Together we spawned infinite threads. One after the other, they spiraled around us, between us, through us. Together we floated on the wings of butterflies in the gleaming lights of fireflies, across distance and time.
And through time, she gave me more than I could ever have given myself. I would never have believed it. I’ve always thought that true happiness comes from within. And that is true. But sometimes it is only through another that we can truly know ourselves. Never have I been so happy as when I’ve been with her. For she has shown me myself.
She has become my aperture.
You have become my aperture.
Like Tinker Bell, the real me came to be because you believed in me. You see me for who I am. You see where my passions lie, and they make you proud. You share in my ambitions. You play with me, compete with me. You appreciate my softer side. En jy praat my eie taal met my. You bring balance to my life. When I go too fast, you slow me down. When I obsess, you help me let go. You bring out the creative in me. You help me feel okay about waking up late or eating something sweet. You adventure with me and binge with me. You laugh with me and cry with me.
And so it should come as no surprise that a month after we got engaged, my blog posts stopped. Over the course of the last four years, you have become the canvas for my thoughts. I no longer need an external outlet to discover who I am, because I know who I am—and I know it because of you. And the parts of me yet to be discovered, I am keen to discover with you.
And so for you, my love, lover of words, take these words now: aside from my own eyes, to which I am bound, it is through your opal eyes that I endeavor to discover all that the universe has to offer. It is with your hand in mine that I want to journey through life. And if I ever forget it, it will not take me long to remember that I am yours, and you are mine. I love you, my aperture.
Thank you for helping me find me.
"It’s a lucky man who’s happy with his place in life."
- Geoff Seacombe