There I was, just taking a pounding. One shot after the other. In the face. I tried to bob and weave, but I just couldn’t escape the fists snapping at my face. Man, this was getting tough. I could feel myself going down. But I had to fight back. Dig deep. She’s a girl. I know I am not meant to hit women, and this goes against every inch of my being, but I had to do something. So I started to swing at her. I got her with a couple of shots. Big ones. But she didn’t even flinch. She just kept on coming. Swing away. In that girlie way of hitting. But it hurt like hell. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I went down. Big time.

I could hear the counting. 1… 2… I just needed to take a breather 3… 4… I got up. Staggering a bit. But I was up. I am a man. Come on. Give it to her. She was going to pay for this one. I took a huge swing at her. But all I hit was air. She moved out the way so quick I thought she was Sugar Ray. More Sugar than Ray, but still. And before I could compose myself I took a huge hit to the head. And I was out. Lights out. And the counting started.

1… 2… The world was swimming in front of me. 3… 4… Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. Even the voice. 5… 6… I tried to shake the cobwebs out my head, but nothing. 7… 8… Come on! Get up. Get up! But nothing. 9… 10! Game over!

Damnit! My wife just beat me in boxing! Playing on the Wii. How the hell did that happen? She hits like a girl, but the Wii doesn’t care. I was trying to be all Ali in my approach. Trying to out box her. A few quick jabs with my left and then an uppercut with the right. And she just kept on swinging the Nunchuck and Remote in that typical girlie way of hers. Some would call it a slapfest. Damnit. The Wii does not go for science.

We had to stop a few times in the middle of the fight though. My wife was pissing weeing herself with laughter. The tears was running from her face. Laughing in that funny way of hers when something is over-the-top funny. The silent laughter. Her face almost looking like she was going to cry. Shaking her hands in the air as if she is swatting away the flies. Her body jerking slightly. And then the deep breath she takes when she calms down. Trying to talk through the tears and laughter. She was really almost weeing herself!

Yes. We bought a Wii. We promised the girls many moons ago that we will one day buy them one. They don’t pressure us or ask us for one. But they are stunning girls. And they deserve it for following me all over the globe. It was a bit of a thing for us because we are not used to paying this much for any single purchase. But hey – you know kids – if they need to wee they need a Wii.

My wife and myself had so much fun playing those silly games. Golf, tennis, bowling, baseball and, of course, boxing. We only stopped at 12:30! But it was also just what I needed.

I have not been myself lately. It happens. It happens every two or three years. My brain feels it is getting fried. I feel tired. Drained. Everything slows down. I can’t think straight. I don’t feel as sharp as what I should be (hold the comments about my sharpness please!) I miss obvious things. My humor is gone. It is not depression or anything like that. it’s just a feeling of being “gatvol“. Tired of the way things are. The constant problems in the world. No solution on the horizon to stop people from suffering and dying. You know, all the bad things in the world just gets too much. Especially if it drives you to try and make a difference. Knowing I will never win this fight. So it all gets a bit too much and I feel drained. From my brain to my soul to my body. Everything just feels it is too much. Downtime needed. Dark clouds. Waiting for the sun.

Few people pick up on it. Mainly because I don’t have to make my problems their problems. They still see the jokes and the smiles. Yes, they’ll see me complain more than I do and not always be the joker. But no major warning lights. They think it is just a headache or something.

But my wife knows. She’ll ask what is wrong. Partly because I look drained by the time I get home. But also because I am always all over her. Touching, cuddling, kissing, telling her how much I love her, hinting (!), and just generally pawing her and making a nuisance of myself. And then I don’t do it the way I always do. I don’t take every opportunity to hold her or kiss her or just joke with her. I still do it. Just not the way I always do. And she’ll ask me, “What’s wrong?” And I’ll say I am tired. Just drained. And she gets it. It’s me being me. Taking everything too personally. The world on my shoulders.

Oh I know other people got it. You did. My readers and Angry African friends and foes. Because you can see the lines. Read the words. And you know it is empty. It’s not me. It has no flow. No passion. No anger. No fun. No tongue in cheek. Just words on a blog. I know you have seen it over the last two or three weeks. Bad stories. Weak stories. Because I was forcing myself to write. Try to engage. But when the soul is taking a break… Nothing. I am sorry I put you through that. But that’s me.

And then we played on our Wii. And we had a ball. Silly, stupid fun. Just nothing but silly, stupid fun. And I snap out of it. The world won’t wait for me. I either do it or I can sit in my little heap and feel sorry for the world. And I have nothing to complain about in my own life.

I was talking to a friend yesterday. He is way down in Atlanta. Good guy. Seen the world. I respect him. Maybe more than he knows. We know each other. Not that well. We haven’t done much together. Just spoken a few times and met at conferences a few times. But I see it in his eyes. We talk on the phone every month or so. He is a good guy. Different from me. But a good guy. And he tells me his young toddler son has cancer. And how he visits him in hospital and that it is tough. But he wasn’t complaining. Just stating the facts. That life throws you curve balls. He doesn’t know if his son will make it. But he is there.

I made another good friend a little while ago. I can see our friendship growing. When we take our walks and joke around. Good guy. Nice guy. We are friends. And his partner is very seriously ill. And the suffering my friends goes through looking after him. Suffering on his own. Looking after his partner. And all I want to do is give him a hug and say, “It’s okay.” But it isn’t. Because I am not there. I don’t know. But I can see in his eyes that it isn’t easy for him. He doesn’t complain. He just does what he needs to do. Because he loves. And takes it one day at a time.

And I look at my daughters. And I look around me. I am blessed. I have an incredible wife. I have two daughters that I love more than life itself. I have a decent job. Good friends. And good times. So I ask myself, “If I can’t do it with all of this around me then how can I do it at all?” And the clouds lift. Slowly but surely.

So when I got my Wii beaten the hell out of me it was as if she was beating the fuzziness away. Her tears of laughter washed away my dark clouds. (Man, I am going over the top here!) Her poking fun at me chasing away the draining thoughts. Pushing the spark back into place. (Okay, enough already!) She is my reason for being. My absolute everything. And when she is happy… Nothing else matters. And we she laughs her silly laughs… Well, let’s just say I am pleased. Ha! When she laughs she lights up my dimming spark. She laughs. I live.

I always find my safety with her. She makes me strong. But more than that, she chases away the darkness when it comes. Beats them away the way she beat me at Wii boxing. With silly, stupid fun.

We got into bed at 1. I cuddled up to her and just held on tight to her. Lying behind her and falling asleep with a smile on my face. Happy. Happy she had to Wii.

Oh, and it’s Friday.


I am back. And I am bad. Good bad. But back. So many stories to tell. Hang on tight. It’s gonna be a ride!

If you enjoyed this post, get free updates by RSS

Add to Technorati Favorites