“She wasn’t bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad.
The kind of sad that just takes time.”
 Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Sometimes we have second thoughts about our life. Or we stop to have second thoughts and none come. This is not particularly peculiar. You’re not “dumb” and you’re not “a fekking mess”. You’re awake. And this we know is true because if you weren’t, then where would you be?

Not here.

Not like this.

You wanted to be awake, and now you are.

So. What’s next?

And… if you don’t know yet (although I think that you do), then be patient with yourself for a little bit longer. It’s the unraveling that reminds us we are alive. That we hurt when pricked. Cry when we’re loved, sometimes, because of how beautiful it is. Cry when we’re not loved, sometimes, because of how offensive it is.

Some people pooh-pooh and say ‘…oh fear, it’s a funny thing.’ They’re stupid. Nothing that can debilitate you with such ruthless savage could ever be funny. Not even slightly. Not even just a little bit. But you know what fear is? Fear is a liar. Because we have these things we think we’re scared of. I think some of the biggest things we are scared of are: changing our minds; not loving our life the way happy people seem to do; not wanting to go to bed; not wanting to get out of bed; not wanting to admit; not wanting to deny; not wanting to carry on; not wanting to tell someone that we don’t want to carry on with them; not being sure that we aren’t going to change our minds again tomorrow, or any other day; not being as figured-out as we believe we should be or worse still, not being as figured-out as other people think we are. Then we live with the fear that someone will figure it all out sooner or later. There are lots more. The list is long and to each his own. But why? When we really look at it – why are we scared? Because we bought the nightmare that we think will be the result of how other people will react or how it will affect other people or what other people are going to think or say. Some of these other people are really important because of who they are in our lives. But then, if you think about it, if they are really important because of who they are in our lives – and if they knew how we feel when we are inside of this fear – would they want this for us?

Sometimes you feel like you just wake up to pretend you’re okay until it’s time to go to sleep again. Then you rinse-and-repeat until it’s not just the clothes that are stretched thin. And then there are days when you just want everyone else to go to sleep so that you can be alone – where you’re almost sure-sure you’re happiest.

But… Sure-sure?

Still… you know what? As subjective as this gravity is – it’s just a transition. Feels like purgatory, sure. But still… it’s just a transition.

This is not particularly peculiar. You’re not “dumb” and you’re not “a fekking mess”.

You wanted to be awake – and here you are.

Thank God!

So. What’s next?

And if you don’t know yet (although I think that you do), then be patient with yourself for a little bit longer.

It’s the unraveling that reminds us we are alive.

Sometimes the worst thing to happen to you is also the best thing to happen to you.

Either way, you’re going to have to jump.


PS: You had the key when you were a kid.

You just can’t remember where you put it.

 Be a kid again.

The solutions are simpler.

© Dylan Balkind

Summer Camp Finn


It’s been a long time since I did write for my blog. I have been so busy getting bigger and looking out the front gate when I’m allowed to play on the side of my house where the street is. I have still been going to my park like I told you before and when I go there, I go with my Dad because I can’t drive. My Dad drives us there.

This is me getting ready to drive us to my Emmarentia.


I also haven’t added to my blog for you because when I get bigger I don’t like homework because it is writing and I also don’t like girls or kissing them. I play with my best friend Matthew because we are boys and we can get wet when we go to my Emmarentia. When girls go there they wear white clothes and scream when they think I’m gonna make their clothes wet and brown.

I like it when they think that and scream.

It’s fun for me.

Look at me here. I am very wet.



Then I had to be a big boy because I had to go to Summer Camp. My Dad did say he had booked for me because all cocky spaniels like me have to go to summer camp. Then he said that because I was going there and he didn’t need to feed me, he would go to his cousin’s party in Cape Town.



What they have at summer camp for cocky spaniels: 

  • They have children to play with (my Matthew!!!!!!!)
  • They have girls – yuk! (It’s Matthew’s big sister Hannah and she actually wasn’t so yuk because we played together even)
  • They have my cousin Milly there (she actually lives there even!)
  • They have running in the park with my aunty Niki (she lives there with Milly even!)
  • They have ladies in the park that I can shout at
  • They have my harness and my leash
  • They have no queen beds
  • They have no inside beds because cocky spaniels aren’t allowed inside at the Summer Camp for cocky spaniels
  • They have my bowls even
  • They have fancy food
  • They have more kitties than at my house where I have only one kitty only
  • They have a lot of rain there at summer camp for cocky spaniels

You see they have a lot of different things even.



When I came home I was upset but I don’t know why because I was also happy. My Daddy and my Gogo and my Granddad said I must have been tired from too much fun. They always say this and then they say I am a cocky spaniel but I know I am a cocky spaniel always so.




My arm was sore because I can’t remember why even. And then my Daddy did put on a bandage with creams and then I took it off because I didn’t like it on me.





Here’s me when I took it off.

Band off

I will try to write again when I feel like it.

My name is Finn. Summer Camp Finn.


Social media making you sick?

Originally written for and published on BizCommunity.com.
For engagement details, click here

We at Help For Hemorrhoids hope you’re sitting happy in the traffic. Like our page and tell us about the worst sit-in you’ve ever sat-in.

This is not social media. This is stupid. If you’re saying/doing/tweeting things like this, then you deserve the trolling noise you’re sure to have, and – just for breaking the Internet’s heart – your nether regions should be infested with a thousand little Julius Malemas.

Kitchen Roll TwitterWhy is it that every brand flapped forward to the frontline of social media and created a fan page and/or a twitter account anyway? Sure I’d have to be an absolute twit to contend the value of this platform outright, but for every single brand? Seriously? Kitchen towel is your friend in the kitchen. Let us know if you keep yours in a cool, dry place?  Shan’t. Because I’m too busy smashing my device into pieces for allowing ‘suggested posts’ like this into my life.

What happened to our focus on the studiously researched science of placement? Just like you wouldn’t put a funeral parlour in a shopping mall, why be compelled to create a social media presence for your brand of kitchen towel, hmm? For a promotion-period, sure… But for everyday frivolity? Just because 51% of active Twitter users follow companies, brands or products on social networks, doesn’t mean you have a captive-receptacle ready to blithely bait whatever you tweet them. They can and eventually will choose what they are going to stick around for.

But take note, because there are those getting it right! Kraft Macaroni & Cheese is one such example. This Facebook page has 1 492 201 likes (and growing). Why? Because macaroni and cheese. And because you know you love it. But not everyone has a sleeper hit like this; the equivalent of winning the social media lottery doesn’t come easy to the lazy.

The slacker social media-ists

They’re everywhere. You can recognise them by their savvy tricks to lure you in or baffle your brain with hashtags. They hope for miraculous social media reach and activity with notoriously catatonic updates ending with a really lame question. Or… they believe their brand should prove its prowess with a tweet about #worldclass #synergy for #effective #results that drive #consumer #awareness for #global #brandgrowth across a #commonthread that #leveragesUSP for #clientlove. If your audience really wanted to engage with content that made absolutely no sense, they would just watch the eNCA.

Personalities wanted

Owning a company and representing its brand shouldn’t compel you to become a drudging, commonplace and wearisome bore. People like and want to connect with those very human aspects and characteristics of your brand. All of social media is a stage and you are a leading player on it. Build your character (from many facets) and infuse feelings that people can actually connect with. Sure, that 02h43 drunken and misspelt rant about your boss’s saggy bum won’t deliver the golden parachute (so make sure your spelling is correct, at least), but a little of the heart behind the heat sheds light on whom, why and what builds the brand – on a daily basis.

Tweeting for the team

Consider a forum for additional voices that are recognised as part of it. So you are not @CocaCola, but you are @CocaCola_RuthD_CFO_Europe, or @Shoprite_Jenni_TalentScout. Granted, it’s no Ipsos Measurement or a theory that Millward Brown may list, but these personality sentiments will return exponential growth in followers because of the fly-on-the-wall nuggets of information being shared from behind the scenes. Interesting = more talkability. But really interesting; not how-many-squares-on-our-kitchen-towel? interesting.

Get to grips with this forum and watch it work for you.

If you are tweeting as the role that is behind the brand:

  • Write as you – but responsibly
  • If it’s boring, bin it
  • Steer new conversations
  • Evoke responses that add value
  • Prompt thoughtful, engaging, ongoing discussions from your own voice
  • Retweet your colleagues’ tweets
  • Make the circle bigger

And then, once you’ve got this down pat, remember: just one small cap is enough.

I knew you were trouble

The moral of the story can’t be based on morals because none of us have many left, and the ones who do wouldn’t agree on the mix anyway. Case in point: I was troubled (again) recently as I came across this App ad, promoted to my feed:


Just because a guy likes a little Wizard of Oz in his playlist and was (just once) called a sexual predator by the French Rugby team, doesn’t mean he wants your creepy App that does this, okay? Show me a gay man that wants an App to help him sneak pictures of men to share with the friends he doesn’t even have, and I’ll show you a guy who belongs in the same ‘category’ of people who choose to be fans of kitchen towel or cooking oil on Facebook. We call this ‘category’ an asylum which is where we’re all headed if we don’t watch the cerebral value of the content we a) issue, b) engage with or c) all of the above.

Remember: Social Media should ultimately make us smarter in how we can access more information and from being better connected to each other than ever before.

Get connected with me @DylanBalkind.

Thanks for reading!

© Dylan Balkind

Dancing around in your underwear… cooking pasta….

“It’s never really felt like I’ve been getting to know you… it’s always felt like I was remembering you from something… as if in every lifetime that you and I have ever lived, we have chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again – over and over… for all eternity…”

Beyond the pairing, Kurt’s conversations with Burt are some of the most wistfully inspiring, soul-touching moments in modern TV. That writing – and the performances that bring them to life – are glitter and inspiration to me.

_when we say ‘fine’

Humanity’s frequency is in the volunteer of a beauty unobserved. She, the tactile-defensive said: ‘Can I give you a hug?’ — and unflinching, followed through.

She asked if I was sick or sad. I said a little of both.

It’s funny that freedom is something we voluntarily lock ourselves out of when we say ‘fine’ – which I guess is why I am still trying to map where this elusive Liberty lives…

…but the creator of my reality knows me – because the creator of my reality is me…

— and still, I sulk. Them unfrequented grounds of camp and their fastidious cliques depress me. So excessively particular and demanding, that tirelessly habitual critique is an ironically priggish brevity so sickeningly binding of itself.

I have to door-slam stop myself and – catching my reflection from mirrors within mirrors – I wonder: does my questioning and hate for this depth-lack come from the arrears of my own blueprint?


Don’t look down… the fear that lies beneath you is not what I’ve done…
Don’t you see? That if you really knew me, you’d let me turn the key?

The creator of my reality knows me – because the creator of my reality is me.

Isn’t it ironic that failure is something we don’t know we’ve even considered while freedom is something we voluntarily lock ourselves out of when we say ‘fine’?

She asked if I was sick or sad. I said a little of both and she said: ‘Can I give you a hug?

Redemption is humanity’s volunteer in a beauty unobserved…

…and it is inside of this vitality that I find the trail of Light to where Liberty lives.

© Dylan Balkind

White Supremacy

No bait. So much hate. I never got to ask you about your suffocating spate.
Neck brace. Hot face. The ambulance ride told me I’d lost the race.
I went out looking pretty. I came back looking gritty.
I wonder if the unaffected still think my harping about this is petty?

I don’t get stuck doing it often … until I see things like this.

Fourteen years ago, I watched a poet stand under a spotlight, her lips big and her head shaved – she was beautiful and brittle and she wanted answers from her people. She purred: “Give a white man a gun… and he shoots a black man. Give a black man a gun… and he shoots a black man.”

The quiet that followed boomed discernible discomfort. Everybody was embarrassed to be the colour they were for the words she wove were wild.

What is wrong with us?
Why so much chaos?
Karma’s due to hit soon with the full-speed force of a brakeless bus.

So much hate
strangling Light in its gait
Do you see an end in sight to the frenzy of this spate?

I went out looking pretty. I came back looking gritty.
I wonder if the unaffected still think my harping about this is petty?

I don’t get stuck doing it often … until I see things like this.

Screen Shot 2013-10-05 at 7.43.52 PM

Who are you? Privileged white man, son and brother –
to decide that you can and should do this to another?
I want you to have to sit and watch this with your mother,
and the father of your future fiancé and her little brother.

Your drugs are broken
love is just a token
of something you haven’t yet known, lived, felt or even spoken.
You need to start to see
that the repercussions of actions are three –
and that not yet knowing yourself is just an empty roar unspoken melee.

I insist I bring poise albeit anger to this podium,
though nervous I swear this voice I stall could fill a stadium.
It’s when you go outside of being inside your callous thoughtlessness,
that you free yourself from that terminal consortium carelessness.

No bait. So much hate.
Your drugs are broken and your love’s just a token…
I went out looking pretty. I came back looking gritty.
I wonder if the unaffected still think my harping about this is petty?


© Dylan Balkind

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