So I’ve been having trouble trying to write about the best moments of 2019 for myself and my family.
Not because there haven’t been any. There’s been quite a few I’ve enjoyed and cherished. I’ve been proud of the goals I achieved, the people I met and the love I’ve shared.
Of every other year, this one ended the hardest.
I survived 3 rounds in a boxing match.
We travelled on my honeymoon.
I appeared in a commercial.
I performed my first one-man comedy special.
We got a dog.
I got a guitar.
I got a vasectomy.
I lost my job.
I lost my dad.
1. I survived 3 rounds in a boxing match.
I know that this should be at number two and my honeymoon with my wife should take priority. I believe that to be an amazing husband though, you need to make yourself happy.
I am at my happiest when I’ve reached a goal, and surviving three rounds in a boxing match qualifies. I trained soon after Christmas, working 9-5 and heading to the gym every evening. It drove Samantha mad with worry.
In March, I stepped into the ring with a fantastic fighter. He was super fit despite being older, and gave me my biggest physical challenge ever. By the end of round 2, we were both exhausted.
On the third round and the final bell rang, I sank to my knees. My lungs were bursting, my muscles screamed and I felt the wave of relief wash over me. It was sensational.
It isn’t a challenge I’ll take up again, but the lessons I’ve learnt are life-changing. The focus, the mental discipline and the support received by wonderful people will forever remain with me.
If you’d like to take up training without the machismo attitude, I would recommend The Armoury Boxing Gym in Woodstock.
2. We travelled on our honeymoon.
I won’t lie, I had my doubts about the trip. Seven days on a gulet yacht seemed strange and beyond my threshold of comfort. How wrong I’m glad I was.
If our budget was higher, we would’ve received a crew with at least minimal English skills. Instead, we had a few quiet deck-hands and a grumpy Turkish captain. He pointed at the map before smoking a cigarette at the tiller, mumbling to himself. Straight out of a story.
If we could’ve, we would’ve sailed in a luxury yacht with a spacious room and soft beds. Instead, it was a small cabin, hard mattresses and a wet room. Roughing it.
Had we the luck, we would’ve been completely alone. Instead, we sailed with the crew, a South African couple and a large group of older Germans. They ate and drank like tomorrow was a distant memory. Conversation fodder.
The waters were blue and warm, the food plentiful and the experience memorable. It could’ve been better, but it definitely could’ve been FAR WORSE.
3. I appeared in a commercial.
Now, this was an exciting goal ticked off from my bucket list. I joined a casting agency at the beginning of the year. I wanted to know if I would be good enough to feature in a commercial, and I was.
The backstory, yet, is funnier.
The morning after the boxing match, I was hungover as sin. I lurched into the casting studios in Loop Street, expecting to say a line and walk out. I had attended a few castings before with no progression, so this one was doomed to failure.
I paired with a younger male, and we acted as if we were pals. We got into our swimming trunks and dived into an imaginary pool. After eating a few chocolates, we moved on.
Don’t forget, I was hungover and I just survived a boxing match.
Cue a week later, I’m called in for what they name a “callback” and I am the only gentlemen of 11 that arrive. I am also the only one that got his part and had to spend 2 hours auditioning with the other 10.
In our underwear, we ran across the studio like we were buddies jumping into a pool. It was surreal having to act like “buds” with 5 sets of guys wearing nothing but Woolworths “manties”.
It was a generational piece, friends growing up together through the ages. And I played the “natural” guy versus the business and the family men. At the end of the commercial, we enticed our friend to jump into the pool one last time.
A feat that took 8 hours to film in a Constantia home. So much fun.
4. I performed my first one-man comedy special.
It had to happen. After a decade of performing, I needed to pull out whether I could sustain a decent hour special.
Firstly, credit again goes to Sam for bearing with me. She bore the brunt of my emotional roller-coaster as I developed the show. She endured the hours spent practicing in the office. Hearing the same jokes as before. And our friends came too, they were legends.
Secondly, credit to Kaulana Lynn Williams. What a great director. A graduate from Stellenbosch University, she’s risking it all to become a theatre powerhouse. I met her at a talk and asked her to helm my show.
She was a guiding light, giving me insight into my content and my craft. Once I have the patience, confidence and time again to perform it, I wouldn’t ask for anybody else.
The show wasn’t 100% for me. The venue was the Station on Bree, it had no lighting and the manager enjoyed some friends over. They were loud and boisterous, and it threw me off so much I lost my focus on my material.
What made it worse was people walked out mid-set, and I discovered Kaulana invited a major player in the TV comedy world. What bad luck that the person that left was one of them, but she explained they had to relieve the babysitter. The feedback was positive.
I haven’t done the show since. I’ve felt so disillusioned with the comedy scene here that I cannot fight the uphill battle. You’re either well-liked by your peers, your audience or both.
If you have neither, you might as well stay at home.
5. We got a dog.
I won’t forget the day Sam sent me a message stating that a dog was up for adoption. She was eager to adopt and wanted to try and foster a rescue dog before committing.
We were lucky that the first on the list kept pee-ing everywhere, as the second arrived. He sat in our lounge, lay on a soft duvet we set out for him…and hasn’t moved since.
Odo (renamed from Westley) has been such a delight and captured many hearts. He’s healthy, got a great coat and is so damn quiet people didn’t expect him in our home at all. He makes himself known when visitors arrive and he dashes out like a bullet, sniffing out all the cat-poop in the garden.
6. I got a guitar
Sam is, without a doubt, the best human being I have ever laid eyes on. Due to the patience she has for how I behave and act. And she is so generous and giving, I always fear I haven’t lived up to it yet.
When she got me a guitar for my birthday, I was awestruck. She didn’t just get any guitar, she got a beautiful wood piece that was also hand-tested by a musician friend. He verified it by playing it and recording the sound.
I’m nowhere near being that good.
But, it has been a friendly distraction now and again when trying to sort through my head. I connect to Yousician, an automated web app that hears your performance through the computer’s microphone. You then follow along to their sessions and they let you know when you’re bad.
Quite nifty and I’m learning a lot. Best. Wife. Ever.
7. I got a vasectomy
For every person I’ve ever been involved with, none of them gave me a good reason to be a father.
I’ve even coerced at times, to reveal my feelings about the concept. And sometimes I had to fawn platitudes just to keep the peace. But after seeing how my siblings turned out and how my own father dealt with children, I knew.
Granted, I know I’d be an amazing dad. When I’m loyal, it is always to a fault. You will have me there tooth and nail, and the same would go for any child I could’ve had.
Instead, I’m way too selfish with my time and money, preferring to spend it on myself and my wife. And we sorted that
What shocked me was the fallout. My dearest friends in London expressed shock. Imran even sent a heartfelt message conveying his sorrow that we were denying the world amazing people. That we would’ve produced beautiful children
8. I became self-employed
It was heart-breaking. I left the office leaving amazing, talented and generous people. But, to be honest, the writing was on the wall.
And once I signed the agreement to leave, a great pressure left me.
I spoke to Sam at length about how to proceed, her dealing with working the agency the only source of income we had. Do I apply for new positions in the same field to sustain us?
Or do I chase the dream?
I’m not sure what that dream is, but I understand now that it is more creative than administrative. I attend castings, offer my services as a studio director and even edit a Youtube channel that is growing strong.
I even met a director that showed interest in my scripts and wants to write a movie. So far, we’ve written the treatment for an idea to exercise our partnership and the flow is exciting.
Now, if I can just turn these opportunities into cash…
9. I lost my dad
No doubt a small amount of you scrolled straight to this point to read why I included my father’s death as a “best moment of 2019”. Were you hoping to roid-rage against my arrogance and dismissiveness? Did you think I was going to laugh it off as a “finally” moment?
If you did, go fuck yourself. If you didn’t, read on.
I wasn’t there enough for my dad, for reasons I will not explain on this post. I visited often, sat by his side and listened to my mother talk while he stared at his feet.
He died from complications related to the gangrene in his foot. A condition related to his diabetes and health. The doctor had prescribed to amputate, but my father refused.
We talked when we could, argued about values and life, and never quite got each other. He was regretful of his past, couldn’t see the value in his life and was unable to find joy.
He felt small, useless and in the way. He wanted to die so much, he begged for it once in the Emergency room while I stood over him. And I looked at him, pitying this once proud man brought down by the unceasing tide of age.
And by his own cowardice.
But when he felt good, he was great. I was lucky being the youngest to have a father that stayed at home during my childhood. In small moments, I remember wrestling with his hand while we watched television. And he rolled his tongue out in concentration while giving a giggle at the effort.
He was funny, with a sharp wit denied by his fear of ridicule amongst most family members.
Sam once asked him, “Carlos, how do you say ‘whiskey’ in Portuguese?” He replied, “That’s easy…Johnny Walker, Jack Daniels…”
In another conversation, she described me once as a “naughty little shit”, and with a deadpan look he piped, “Really? He’s a naughty little shit?
“So…you like shit, huh?”
So why is his death a “best moment”? Well, there’s value in the finality of the relationship. I looked on as I saw the older version of myself come to his own end, and I’ve drawn lessons from it.
I see what mistakes he made, how his own values drove the decisions he took and the relationships he kept. Albeit in business, love and health, all that he did I observed. His death drew to a close his own journey through life and how I accompanied it.
You begin a road-trip with someone you don’t know. You both begin to discover each other’s traits, strengths and weaknesses. You discuss life, politics and wealth.
By the end of the trip, the driver drops you off in the corner with your bag and a couple of bucks. And that is how I’ve seen my relationship with my father. A man that kept quiet while driving, but ever once in a while pointed something out.
So now I’m left on the side of the road while he drives on. And because of him, I’m a lot closer to my destination than he ever was. For that, I’m grateful.
It’s really funny how a year passes and you read how you visualised your future to occur. Not many could have predicted the best moments of 2017’s and the near-cataclysmic opportunities we faced.
Still, it’s all about what we expected to happen versus what really did, and comparing my year now with what I wrote back in 2016 gives me an indication that we aren’t always in control of our lives as much as we’d like, and I’ll point it out in the best moments below:
I find that my relationships tended to always be one-sided. Either my ex-girlfriends, any of them, would be hormonal, raging lunatics with paranoid schizophrenia and multiple personality disorders ranging from “delightful” to “get me strawberries in winter”.
Or, controversially, very good people that required I look up now and again from my phone.
Thankfully, I’ve grown up now and in the loving embrace of a partner that, a. takes delight in seeing me venture into a debris of silliness and b. encourages myself in all my cheer and melancholy to welcome her along with me.
We’re a fun bunch, especially and specifically with each other, and less importantly with other people who take heart in knowing that we will leave the room a little lighter but vexing in uninformaty.
“What, you’ve only fought once in a year?” That’s right, yes we have.
This may take you into a mind ethic you didn’t need, but sex between us is not a chore. Not for me, at least. I was expected, even required, to perform both in the art of sex but even in it’s preparation. Foreplay, as you no doubt are aware, is not an addendum in the dating contract, but a requirement blaring at you with sirens and bells.
And before, it was as extrenuous a duty as putting the kettle on in the morning.
But now, it’s as fun an activity to pursue as hiking. Yes, in both I’m climbing and someone’s grunting, but now you get to stay put and watching Star Trek together in the doggy-style position, a feat no human should die without trying.
And the art of dry humping is so lost today. We take it for granted because it doesn’t sound as romantic or enticing as candles in a bath and aromatherapy pulsating through the air. No, dry humping starts the show and gets the fireworks going, right before the crescendo and the throngs exit left.
I have strived to remain neutral in this world of men and women, my body slowly decompressing into a fested mush of chocolate and coffee (the two staple diets of a procrastinator), unfit to join those that think that visiting Rocque Gym is as important as using a toilet to pee. But now, instead of complying with the multitudes, I’ve found my ideal partner.
A woman that makes sense of the insular world I live in, a companion with her own subtle quirks that make me fall in love with her again, over and over. She’s a blessed angel, a perfect hegemony of form and flavour. Without her, chocolate and coffee might as well be the MTV music channel…with no music.
I’ve been thinking about all the internet junk we leave behind and how it amounts to digital pollution.
It’s like the garbage bags that float in the ocean or the space debris that orbits our planet. We create and leave behind so many email addresses, dating profiles and competition entries.
You know that every time you create a fake Facebook account to stalk your ex, someone out there has to switch on a server? A server that requires electricity, air conditioning and extra RAM, just because you need to see how happier she is without you?
We also forget the other possibility that with all this information we keep feeding into this beast could fill it up. What if one day we’re all signing up to a new form of social media and the Internet sends us all a message that says “insufficient space.”
And in voice we’ll all yell, “Awww fuck,” in so many languages.
Tomorrow I wouldn’t mug you for your car, I’d mug you for your email address. The government will send out messages, “please delete your unwanted Twitter accounts. For only 1 Gig free, you can provide an African child with an untapped source of self-esteem issues, and the opportunity to achieve unsustainable relationships…online.”
Ok, so it’s not quite possible for the Internet to fill up. But what if the Cloud acts exactly like a Cloud? When it gets heavy with water, it begins to rain. What will The Cloud do? Will my computer burst open and out will Coe this huge avalanche of cat videos, blog posts and dick pics hitting you in the face?
My question is would you prefer a big picture of a dickpic hitting you in the face, or a picture of a huge dick hitting you in the face?
Whatsapp has come a long way from the days when the engineers that built it were denied a job at Facebook. Now, Jan Koum and Brian Acton are two happy men. With money.
Lots of it, in fact. Around $19 billion. For Whatsapp.
Well, no, since we’re so silly to think they’re both living Scrooge McDuck lives and jumping off a diving board into gold coins.
And now they’ve come up with a new feature stolen from someone who stole it from someone who thought it was a cool feature to attract teens with low esteem.
Whatsapp Status – a 24 hour content stream that lets you upload an image or video about anything and everything, and disappears the next day.
I mean why on Whatsapp, what is the point? On Snapchat, I could understand since its a instantaneous “here and gone”, pretty much the original thoughts that enter and leave young people’s minds right before they take a “serrrllffiiiieeee”.
And then it ventured onto Instagram, the grownup version, providing sexy people with the opportunity to show off their abs and butts without waiting for the tabloids to do so.
But it made sense there; Instagram is a public tool, allowing strangers to wangle into your storefront and stare blandly at the goods. And the platform, thanks to their algorithms that detected female nipples and overall genitalia, became as trusted a family social tool as Christmas dinner.
Whatsapp is reserved for your friends and family though, and your vanity is limited to the few that really care or technically don’t. So is this new feature an actually ploy to grab further users (they doubled they userbase in the past two years to around 1.2 billion) or trying to be relevant in a landscape with the “same old same old”?
The instant gratification of a few seconds of “status” still intrigues me, yet I have been unable to obtain a plausible reason why. I ask those around me why implementing a 5 second video of themselves giving the finger to the world would be so appealing, only to have generalised responses like, “bra, it’s cool, why be so uptight?”
Uptight? Is it me then? Am I turning into a fuddy-duddy, where “new things” upset the order of the universe? No, I’ve been a curmudgeon for so long I can criminalise a new flavour of chocolate ice-cream that appears in my supermarket shelf, so I haven’t changed.
I’m just not sure I’m happy with using data reminding my private list of contacts what mood I’m feeling. If I want to let someone know how I feel, I’ll send a wonderful voicenote akin to what Louis CK hates. “Heeeyyyyy bro, these chicken cheez whizzes are like…ammmaaarrzzzinnggg????”
What I really want to change though is my ringtone. Oh man, if only could I change my ringtone to something I can customise and create, I would be SOOO happy. So goddamn happy, I could scream.
I hate reflecting on the past. By that, I mean that I LOVE reflecting on the past, all the things I’ve done, the people I’ve met and the wonderful experiences I’ve enjoyed. And 2016 is no exception.
I don’t try to be too narcissistic. Yes, I own a blog, I’m a comedian and I’m the type to admit that I look at myself in every reflection I walk past in. You know, just in case I have a hair loose. But I don’t TRY to be TOO narcissistic.
It’s cathartic though when I look back at the moments of 2016 and appreciate what has happened. There were some huge changes, I mean big ones. And all for the better, I hope.
I do include events that weren’t part of my everyday life, like celebrity deaths. Government referendums. Oil price changes. You think it’s silly? Never, those shape our public conciousness and all the better for it, so why disregard them in our lives?
Here’s my list, have a good read:
I started my job in the advertising industry
I left an abusive relationship and found the best one ever.