Valentine’s Day: The Annual Reminder That Someone Else Was Picked

Valentine’s Day… and the Silence Was Loud

Happy Valentine’s Day! 💅🏿💃🏿🌹🥀🍓🎈

To the married.

To the dating.

To the situationships.

To the “it’s complicated.”

And to the single people - no boyfriend, no crush, not even a toaster.

(And yes… happy new month — very delayed 🥹 life's been happening.)

Today was… weird. 

I was mentally preparing myself for the annual emotional assault.You know the one.

The countdown starts a week before - couples soft-launching, “my person” posts warming up, suspicious flower deliveries appearing in stories, and suddenly everyone is in love. Everyone has always been in love. Everyone will forever be in love.

And the singles?

We just scroll carefully.

But today… nothing.🤷🏿

Valentine’s Day was dry. Suspiciously dry.

I opened social media ready to emotionally duck, and there were just normal posts. Memes. Random selfies. Food. Someone arguing about nonsense. No coordinated romance parade. No pressure. No mass relationship announcements trying to convert me into sadness.

For once, the algorithm respected my peace. 🎉

Actually, it felt almost unfamiliar — like when noise stops and your ears are still waiting for it. I kept expecting the wave to come later in the evening… the coordinated posts at 20:00, the restaurant tables, the captions longer than the relationship itself. But midnight is getting closer and nothing really happened. The world just… continued.🤨

And honestly? I liked it. 😁

Because Valentine’s Day has slowly become less about love and more about performance. A public audit of your desirability. A yearly reminder asking: has anyone chosen you yet? 💔

And sometimes the pressure isn’t even external, it’s subtle. You start measuring time. Another February. Another year older. Another year of “maybe next time.”

So today felt… quiet.

No flowers, but that’s normal.I’ve never received flowers. Not once. Not from anyone. Not even a “here.” Not even a pity rose.

And strangely, it didn’t hurt today.

Maybe because for the first time, the world wasn’t shouting romance in my face. Maybe because silence is kinder than comparison.

Or maybe… I’m just getting used to my own company. ❤️‍🩹

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

DEGREES THAT KEEP THE POOR POOR

A reflective pause on useless qualifications, societal consequences, and why this madness must stop!

Some degrees are sold as dreams. Some degrees are sold as self-expression. Some degrees are sold as fun. And yet, for many young people — especially those who grew up counting coins and stretching rands — these degrees are traps.

This is a social reflection to degrees exist that do little to contribute to economies, personal security, or career viability. Let’s explore this.

WHEN PASSION MEETS POVERTY AND FAILS

You’ve seen it: students excitedly, unashamedly sharing their new degree on social media. Parents proud. Families hopeful. And yet, the labour market yawns. 🥱

Entry-level positions demand experience nobody can have before graduation. Managers refuse to train newcomers. Countries complain about shortages of engineers, teachers, and accountants, while universities churn out degrees that qualify students for… nothing. Rich students can take these risks, but for those relying on education to climb out of poverty, this is reckless.

Passion alone cannot pay rent, feed families, or sustain futures. Education must serve first — inspire second.

THE TOP 10 MOST USELESS DEGREES (WITH REALITY CHECKS)

These degrees exist in the US, UK, and parts of Europe. They are sometimes found in other countries by imitation. They are niche, highly specialized, and rarely lead to employment unless the student already has wealth or connections.

1. Puppetry (BFA) – 3–4 years, University of Connecticut (USA). Puppet design and performance. Fun, yes. Livable? Almost never.

2. Astrology / Metaphysical Studies – 3 years, private/online colleges (US/UK). Study of zodiac and planetary influences. Reality: not recognized professionally.

3. Pop Culture Studies – 3–4 years, NYU (USA), University of Sussex (UK). Celebrity, media, fandom. Employers: “So… what can you actually do?”

4. Circus Arts – 3 years, European conservatories. Acrobatics and juggling. Tiny job market, high physical risk.

5. Equestrian Studies – 3–4 years, University of Arizona (USA). Horse care and management. Accessible mostly to the wealthy, irrelevant to most city jobs.

6. Theme Park Management – 3 years, University of Central Florida (USA). Guest experience and attraction operations. Employers: Disney and a few others; jobs mostly connection-based.

7. Floral Design (Degree) – 2–3 years, private design colleges (US/UK). Skill: arranging flowers. Rent doesn’t accept bouquets.

8. Paranormal / Ghost Studies – 2–3 years, niche private programs. Folklore, hauntings. Ghosts do not pay salaries.

9. General / Liberal Studies – 3 years, many global universities. Broad electives, no specialization. Graduates: confused by employers.

10. Creative Writing (Bachelor only) – 3 years, many US/UK universities. Fiction, poetry, criticism. Skill is useful, degree doesn’t guarantee income; AI is starting to write faster than humans.

Each of these degrees looks good on paper and on Instagram, but when reality hits, many graduates find themselves underemployed or in debt without skills to fall back on.

IF WE CARE ABOUT THE FUTURE, THIS MUST CHANGE

Governments complain about shortages of teachers, engineers, doctors, and technical workers. They talk about economic growth while universities churn out degrees with minimal labour market value. The disconnect is stark.

If higher education is serious about societal contribution, then regulation, transparency, and honest guidance are necessary. Publish graduate employment rates. Limit public funding for programs with near-zero demand. Protect students, especially first-generation learners, from predatory marketing.

Education must first build security, then build passion. Anything else is a luxury sold as hope — a luxury too many cannot afford.

The pause is clear: passion without purpose, when sold as a degree, is a trap for the poor, and a disservice to the economy.

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

Refugees, Asylum Seekers, Permanent Residents: Yes, We Pay Tax!

**“Foreigners Don’t Pay Tax?”Then Explain How We’re Still Surviving**

There’s a sentence that keeps floating around South Africa like it’s gospel. It’s shouted at protests, typed angrily in comment sections, repeated on timelines without a second thought.

“Foreigners don’t pay tax.”

It’s said so casually. So confidently. So loudly.

And every time I hear it, I pause — not because I’m confused, but because I’m genuinely curious.

Because I’m here. I’m living. I’m surviving.

And somehow, every single month, money leaves my hands.

So today, I’m not here to fight. I’m not here to insult anyone. I’m not here to pretend that some South Africans are not struggling — because they are.

I’m here to ask a very simple question, slowly and respectfully:

How?

How exactly are we not paying tax?

Living in South Africa Is Already Taxed by Default

Let’s start with something basic: existing.

The moment you wake up in South Africa, tax is already involved. Not later. Not optionally. Immediately.

You switch on the light — electricity isn’t free. It never has been. And embedded in that electricity bill are service charges, municipal fees, and yes, tax. When you buy electricity, no one asks you for a green ID book or a passport before charging you VAT. The system doesn’t pause and say, “Wait, are you foreign?” The meter runs regardless.

Same with water. Whether it’s a municipal bill, a landlord’s invoice, or rent that includes utilities — water is paid for. And that payment carries tax. Unless foreigners have discovered a secret underground river that only we drink from, then again, tax is being paid.

And that’s just the house. The moment you step outside — transport, fuel, deliveries, airtime, data, food — tax follows. It’s quiet, it’s automatic, and it’s unavoidable. VAT doesn’t discriminate. VAT doesn’t debate. VAT doesn’t care about your accent, your surname, or where you were born.

So when someone says, “foreigners don’t pay tax,” what they are really saying is something else entirely — because economically, that statement does not hold at all.

What People Actually Mean When They Say “Tax”

Here’s where we need to be honest with ourselves.

When many people say “foreigners don’t pay tax,” they don’t mean all tax. They mean one specific type of tax — PAYE. The one you see clearly on a payslip.

And because many foreigners are:

• self-employed

• informal traders

• small business owners

or informal or small-scale work by foreigners still contributing to the economy and taxes.

VAT is still paid. Fuel levies are still paid.

 Business expenses are still taxed.

 Municipal services are still charged. Rent includes tax. Transport includes tax. Survival includes tax.

So the issue isn’t that foreigners don’t pay tax.

The issue is that their tax is not seen, and in South Africa, what isn’t seen is often assumed not to exist.

But absence of visibility is not absence of contribution

Let’s Be Brave Enough to Say What This Is Really About

This conversation is not actually about tax.

It’s about who gets help when things are hard.

Many Black South Africans are struggling — with unemployment, with grants, with NSFAS, with access. That frustration is real, and it deserves to be taken seriously.

 The government has failed its people in many ways.

But instead of holding systems accountable, anger is redirected. And in that redirection, “foreigners” become a convenient explanation.

Here’s the thing though — if the real argument is:

“We want grants and benefits to be for citizens only,”

then say that. Say it clearly. Say it honestly and Loud. 📢 

But don’t erase the reality of people who are legally here, who work, who pay bills, who pay tax every single day of their lives, just to make that argument stronger.

And let’s also stop pretending that when people say “foreigners,” they mean everyone. We all know who this word points to. We all know who gets shouted at, searched, blamed, and insulted.

It’s not all foreigners.

It’s Black foreigners.

So I’ll Ask Again — Calmly

If foreigners don’t pay tax, then please explain:

How do we buy electricity?

How do we pay for water?

How do we buy food, transport, data, and fuel?

How do we even survive month after month in an economy that is already taxed at every corner?

PLEASE!

If you don’t want foreigners to benefit from grants, be upfront.

But don’t insult our reality by pretending we don’t contribute.

The comment section is open.

Tell me where I’m wrong.

— The Dreamer’s Pause ✨

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

Addington Primary Outrage: South Africans Cry Foul as Foreign Learners Take the Stage

WHEN RIGHTS BECOME ENTITLEMENT: ADDINGTON PRIMARY, IMMIGRATION, AND THE AUDACITY WE ARE PRETENDING NOT TO SEE

Let’s pause. Properly. Because what happened at Addington Primary School in Durban, KwaZulu-Natal, is not just another “school admissions issue,” not just another protest, and definitely not just “xenophobia loading.”

This is about pressure, failure, entitlement, and a country that is being tested — quietly, repeatedly, and dangerously.

Between Monday and Wednesday in mid-January, tensions escalated outside Addington Primary as parents gathered at the school gates over learner placement for the 2026 academic year. Local South African parents claimed their children were not placed, while children of foreign nationals — some allegedly undocumented — were admitted. The situation escalated fast. Police were deployed. Teaching and learning were disrupted. Journalists arrived. Microphones were switched on. Cameras rolled.

By then, this was no longer an administrative issue. It had become a national spectacle.

The KwaZulu-Natal Department of Education stepped in, reminding the public that Section 29 of the South African Constitution guarantees every child the right to basic education, regardless of documentation. Schools, they said, cannot exclude children purely based on immigration status. Engagements were underway to stabilise the situation.

All of that is factual. All of it is important.

But facts alone don’t tell the full story — especially not this one.

CHILDREN ARE NOT THE PROBLEM. ADULTS ARE.

Let’s get this out of the way immediately, because it matters.

Children are innocent.

They did not choose where they were born.

They did not choose their parents’ documentation status.

They did not design South Africa’s immigration system or break it.

Marching at a school gate, shouting while children are inside classrooms, was wrong. Full stop. That was a failure of judgment, not justice.

If anyone needed to be confronted, it was Home Affairs — the department responsible for documentation, immigration control, and enforcement. Not teachers. Not principals. Not children.

 Schools are not immigration offices, and educators are not border officials. They are operating under pressure in a system that has been failing for years.

That said — and this is where honesty becomes uncomfortable — what followed on camera was just as damaging.

Because the problem that week was not only where people protested, but how some people spoke once the cameras were on.

LET’S SAY THE PART NO ONE WANTS TO SAY OUT LOUD

I am Foreign National. Born and raised in South Africa. And watching those interviews was embarrassing in a way that’s hard to explain unless you live it.

Not because foreign parents were defending their children’s right to education — that right exists, and it is constitutional.

But because of the audacity, the tone, the entitlement, the nerve, and the complete lack of self-awareness displayed on national television.

Statements like "South Africa is for everybody," “this is our country,” “we don’t pay school fees back home,” “we get grants,” "we are here forever" and “we’ll do whatever we want” were said openly, proudly, and without shame. During a crisis. In someone else’s country. While undocumented — or allegedly undocumented.

That is not courage.

That is not activism.

That is not intelligence.

That is entitlement — and entitlement, in a country already under pressure, is dangerous.

What made it worse was that the majority of people speaking on camera were Congolese. Faces. Accents. Mannerisms. Anyone who knows, knows. And whether fair or not, perception sticks.

One reckless voice does not represent everyone — but it can endanger everyone.

Permanent residents.

Law-abiding legal migrants.

Legal refugees who followed the process.

People who live quietly, respectfully, and carefully.

When you speak like that on live television, you are not just talking for yourself. You are dragging an entire community into the spotlight — unprepared, exposed, and vulnerable.

And the lack of shame? That was the most disturbing part.

Expired documents. Undocumented children. Yet no urgency. No humility. No sense of risk. Just loud defiance, as if tolerance equals entitlement.

ENTITLEMENT IS NOT COURAGE. IT IS DANGEROUS.

Let’s be very clear: the Constitution protects children — it does not erase immigration law.

Rights do not cancel responsibility. They coexist with it.

If you are undocumented, threatening local citizens on live television is not bravery. It is recklessness. It is gambling with your safety, your children’s safety, and your future.

Fix your papers.

Regularise your status.

Or go back home. 🙁🙏🏿

Stop confusing patience with permission.

Because patience runs out.

And let’s be honest — if tomorrow the government decides to enforce deportations aggressively, what then? Your business is here. Your children are here. Your entire life is here. Shouting will not save you.

South Africans are tired.

Tired of unemployment.

Tired of crime.

Tired of corruption.

Tired of systems that fail them again and again.

Dismissing that exhaustion, provoking it, or mocking it is how things explode. Pretending anger doesn’t exist does not make it disappear — it makes it more dangerous later.

And when things turn ugly, nobody wins. Nobody!

South Africa is not perfect, but it has given many people opportunities they would never have had elsewhere. That deserves respect — not entitlement, not arrogance, not reckless defiance.

Rights exist.

Laws exist.

Accountability also matters.

If we cannot speak honestly about this — especially within our own communities — then we are not protecting anyone. We are simply postponing the crisis.

The Dreamer’s Pause.

Because silence has never fixed what honesty refuses to confront. 🇿🇦

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

WHEN WILL AFRICA REALLY RISE?!

How Our Presidents Turned Republics Into Family Businesses

There comes a moment in every generation when silence becomes betrayal.

And I am tired of being silent.

Because what we are witnessing in Africa today is not leadership. It is inheritance. It is entitlement. It is the recycling of power among the same old men, the same old families, the same old surnames — while millions of young, brilliant, educated Africans are told, politely or violently, to wait their turn. A turn that never comes.

We were told independence would bring dignity. We were told democracy would bring accountability. We were told elections would give us a voice.

But what we got instead is something far more dangerous:

Presidents who behave like kings. States that look like estates. And governments that operate like private companies — with family members as shareholders.

Let’s stop pretending.

This is not colonialism anymore.

This is not Europe.

This is not America.

This is us.

And it is exhausting.

And we are the audience, not the authors.

The most dangerous lie we tell ourselves is that nothing can change.

It can.

But change does not begin with violence alone. It begins with fearlessness.

With refusal.

With organisation.

With participation.

With documentation.

With courage.

With unity.

It begins when Africans stop seeing leadership as inheritance and start seeing it as service.

When we stop worshipping longevity and start demanding results.

When we stop excusing greed as experience.

This is not a call to destroy.

It is a call to wake up.

To organise.

To speak.

To write.

To question.

To challenge.

To criticize 

To fight 

To build alternative leadership.

Because the real revolution is not in the streets alone — it is in the systems.

One day, these greedy men will leave office. Age guarantees that much.

The question is:

What kind of Africa will they leave behind?

A continent of dynasties?

Or a continent of citizens?

Because history is watching.

And so are we.

And we are no longer scared.

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

From Persia to Iran — and Back Again: How a Free Civilization Was Hijacked by Allah-in-Guns and Why It’s Rising Now

Hijabs, Blackouts, Defiance — Why Persia’s Revolution Is Different

There are moments when history hits you so hard you have to sit down.

Finding out that Iran — the same place we now associate with veils, morality police, internet blackouts, and women being beaten for showing hair — was once a free, secular, glamorous country was one of those moments for me.

Not metaphorically free.

Not “free for men but not women.

Actually free.

And when I saw the photos — women in miniskirts, couples holding hands in Tehran, universities full of uncovered women, nightclubs, music, fashion, travel — I felt something between rage and grief.

How did that become this?

How did Persia become a prison?

Persia Was Never Backward — It Was Brilliant

Before 1979, Persia (modern Iran) was not an Islam dictatorship. It was a secular state. A few people were Muslim, yes — but religion was personal, not obligated.

• No compulsory hijab.

• No morality police.

• No arrests for dating.

• No prison for leaving a religion.

Women worked as judges, doctors, politicians. They dressed how they wanted. They studied what they wanted. They lived like women in Europe, America, or Africa.

Tehran was a tourist destination. People went there for holidays. For parties. For culture.

Persia was not isolated.

Persia was not radical.

Persia was not poor.

It was alive.

And then, in 1979, everything broke.

How a Revolution Was Stolen

People were angry at the Shah. He was corrupt. Authoritarian. Too close to Western powers. So Persians rose up, demanding justice.

But while the people wanted freedom, Muslim extremists wanted power.

They promised dignity.

They promised equality.

They promised a better society.

What they delivered was a theocracy.

The Islamic Republic was born — and with it came a simple rule:

Sharia law is above all laws.

That sentence destroyed everything

Almost overnight:

• Women were forced to cover.

• Music was censored.

• Dissent was criminalized.

• Opposition was executed.

• Leaving Islam became extremely dangerous.

• The hijab stopped being a choice.

It became a threat.

Morality police were created to patrol bodies, hair, behavior, and thought. The state began to own people — especially women.

This wasn’t faith.

This was control dressed up as their god.

And that is why today, when Persian women burn their headscarves in the streets, and people burn mosques, it isn’t about rejecting spirituality.

It is about rejecting ownership, control, dominance, and of course "Sharia Laws".

What Is Happening in Persia Right Now

This is not just “unrest.”

This is not just “economic frustration.”

This is a civilizational uprising.

Right now, Persians are demanding:

An end to mandatory hijab

The abolition of morality police

Free speech

Free internet

The right to live without fear

An end to sharia law controlling and dictating private life

People are tearing down the symbols of oppression.

Women are burning the cloth that was used to cage and oppress them.

Men are standing beside them.

The government responds with:

• Death penalties 

• Arrests

• Internet blackouts

• Beatings

• Killings

And still, that did not stop them.

And that my friend, are people remembering who they are.

The Part of Persia Most People Don’t Know

Here is something that shook me to the core.

Persia is not just in history books.

Persia is actually in the Bible.

When God’s people were enslaved in Babylon, it was Persia — under King Cyrus the Great — that conquered Babylon and freed them.

Not only freed them… but paid for their temple to be rebuilt.

The Bible calls Cyrus, a Persian king:

“God’s anointed.”

Persia was the empire God used to restore what was broken.

Persia was known for:

• Tolerance

• Multiculturalism

• Letting people worship freely

Which makes today’s Persia even more heartbreaking — and even more meaningful.

Because something that was once used to restore is now being restored.

This is why their courage feels different.

The courage in Persian streets right now doesn’t feel random.

It feels ancient.

It feels like a civilization waking up.

Whether you are Christian, Buddhist, or an atheist, — something deep and spiritual is happening there. People who were told they are small, sinful, and powerless are standing up against a religion that see non muslims has worse creatures and second hand citizens.

That kind of courage does not come from nowhere.

My Dream for Persia

Free to believe.

Free to doubt.

Free to dress.

Free to speak.

Free to live.

That’s it.

That’s the revolution.

And right now, in the streets of Persia, people — especially women — are burning fear itself.

History is watching.

God is watching.

And so am I.

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

Maduro’s Fall, Trump’s Move, and Why Everyone Lost Their Minds

Good Intentions, Bad Precedents: When the World Lost Its Mind Over Venezuela

Happy New Year — yes, I know, it’s probably the tenth time we’re saying that this January. But here we are, and honestly, the world already feels like it’s been set on fire. And Venezuela? Well, let’s just say the world is arguing about it louder than ever, and nobody seems to know the facts.

So, buckle up.

January 3, 2026 — The Day Nicolás Maduro Got a One-Way Ticket to New York

Let’s start with the facts:

• Who: Nicolás Maduro Moros, president of Venezuela since 2013, and his wife, Cilia Flores.

• Why he’s infamous: Authoritarian rule, corruption, economic collapse, political oppression, food and medicine shortages, hyperinflation — the list goes on.

• What happened: On January 3, 2026, a U.S. operation captured Maduro and Flores, transporting them to the United States to face charges including drug trafficking and corruption.

• How it happened: Quick, coordinated, precise — video footage shows Maduro being confronted, surprised, and ultimately taken. People in Venezuela were crying tears of joy, waving flags, hugging in the streets, celebrating like decades of oppression had finally ended.

So yes, for Venezuelans, this was life-changing and emotional. For the rest of the world… cue the chaos.

Everyone Lost Their Minds — For All the Wrong Reasons

Here’s the first thing I need to say: some  people are ridiculous online. I saw Americans, mostly Democrats or liberals, making videos defending Maduro, blaming Trump, claiming imperialist motives — without checking a single fact. No dates, no charges, no understanding of Maduro’s decades-long authoritarian regime. Just outrage.

And of course, the lazy “Trump wants the oil” crowd came out in full force. Let’s be honest: oil matters. Venezuela has a LOT of oil. But reducing this operation to greed is like blaming a firefighter for water damage. There’s nuance, people! But nuance is apparently banned on social media. What a sad sad world we live in.

Trump Did Something Good — Can We Please Admit That?

I know, I know, saying this will get me canceled by some X (Twitter) liberal army: yes, Trump did something positive here. For once, decades of Venezuelan suffering were interrupted. People were freed from oppression, even if temporarily. Yes, he has flaws, yes, he has a past full of questionable decisions — and yes, the legality of this operation is debatable.

But let’s be real: compared to the disasters under Biden, Harris, or even Obama, this was a bold, decisive action. And if you immediately hear “Trump!” and your brain shuts down, congratulations, you’re part of the problem. Do some research. Read the facts. Don’t just make 60-second outrage videos.

Let’s Talk About Precedent — And Why This Is Scary

Here’s the thing: it worked this time. But what if it doesn’t next time? If the U.S. can swoop into a country, remove its leader, and get away with it, imagine what could happen if the intention wasn’t “good.”

That’s why international law exists — to prevent the powerful from doing whatever they want just because they feel like it.

Does that make this action morally gray? Absolutely. Does it also feel good watching a tyrant finally get taken down? Absolutely. The world is messy. Politics is messy. Human emotion is messy. And Twitter? X is pure chaos.

What I can’t overstate this enough is: watching people defend Maduro online is like watching a comedy show directed by ignorance. No history, no context, just rage. “Trump bad!” “Dictator good!” Boom, viral video. Logic? Gone. Facts? Optional.

If ignorance burned calories, half the internet would be fit by now. And the scary part? People actually believe they’re informed.

Chaos, Power, and Controversy: Observing the Fall of a Dictator Without Looking Away

Freedom without law becomes chaos, law without humanity becomes cruelty, and power without accountability becomes dangerous. The Venezuela moment shows us that outcomes can feel right while methods are messy, emotions can be raw while logic is optional, and the world can cheer and panic at the same time. If there’s a lesson here, it’s simple: think slower, read deeper, question louder — and take a pause before the world spins even faster.

© 2026 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

From Setbacks to Comebacks: My New Year Story

New Year, Same Me… Just Leveling Up

Happy New Year, world! 🎉

Yes, it’s January 2nd, 2026, and no, this isn’t another “new year, new me” post. I’ve already done my little motivational speech on December 31st. Today feels different — today feels like the calm after the fireworks, a moment to breathe, reflect, and look straight at the path ahead.

I’ll be honest: my feelings are all over the place. 2025 was… well, let’s just say it was a masterclass in patience, lessons, and God’s timing. I rewrote my NSC last year thinking, “Yeah, I got this!” and then my results came back… let’s just say I got schooled by reality. That was rough. I considered giving up on university entirely, but life had other plans — and by the grace of God, 2026 is my year to finally go to college. Funding approval is pending, but faith is loud, and hope is louder.

I’ve applied to colleges I never thought I’d like. I got accepted, and there’s one last decision I’m waiting for next week — fingers, toes, and everything crossed.🤞🏿I feel so happy and blessed that I’ll finally be able to pursue higher education, earn a degree, and open doors to more opportunities. Because, let’s be real, in 2025, job applications were not having me.

 One year and two months, three interviews, zero results — if it wasn’t distance, it was experience; if it wasn’t experience, it was my own human error (thank you, wrong CV!). 🙁

But I’m not letting that stop me. Not this year.

2026 is also about me becoming more adult-ish. That means getting my driver’s license, socializing more (I know, shocking!), and meeting the love of my life.🤭🤏🏿 Solitude has its perks, but too much isolation makes you feel like life’s moving without you — like you’re that one person still figuring out TikTok trends in 2020 while everyone else is in 2026. 😂

College won’t be like high school. No one will call your parents if you skip class or miss an assignment. It’s up to me, and honestly, that’s terrifying and exciting all at once. I’ll need discipline, focus, and self-motivation. But hey, I like a good challenge. 🤷🏾

Also, I get excited about the little things — like buying stationery. It’s silly, maybe, but it brings out that inner child who still dreams big and loves learning. It’s a reminder that no matter how old we get, some joy is timeless.

And here’s a thought I want to share with everyone reading this, no matter your age, race, culture, or religion: life doesn’t always hand you what you want, but it does give you what you need. I almost pursued humanities at a private institution last year. I loved it, I was passionate, but after research, I realized it might not have been the best path to sustainability and stability. God had my back — sometimes, what feels like a setback is actually a divine reroute.

So, here’s to 2026:

• To chasing dreams with eyes wide open and feet on the ground.

• To learning from mistakes without letting them define us.

• To balancing faith, fun, and hustle.

• To the small joys that make life sweeter, even when things get hard.

And if nothing else, here’s the mic-drop moment: we’ve got one life, one shot, and one chance to show ourselves what we’re capable of — so why not make this year count? 🎤✨

Let’s go, 2026. We see you. We’re ready.

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

This Is Not a ‘New Year, New Me’ Post

31 December: Between Hope and Reality

Today is the 31st.

The very last day of 2025.

Who knows what happens next?

Maybe God keeps us alive.

Maybe others won’t make it into the new year.

Maybe good things will happen.

Maybe painful things will happen.

Some of us will get accepted into the colleges we prayed for.

Some will finally receive funding or sponsorship.

Some will get married, have children, land a good job, buy a car, or finally have a place to call home.

And for others—it won’t look like that at all.

Some will lose their homes.

Some will still be unemployed.

Some will be turning 40 with no partner, no kids, no clear direction.

Some will feel alone, disconnected from family, friends, or even themselves.

That’s the uncomfortable truth about life:

the new year does not arrive equally for everyone.

And every year—every single year—we hear the same motivational speeches.

“No more borrowing in 2026.”

“No more debt.”

“No more toxic relationships.”

“No more bad boyfriends, bad girlfriends, scandals, drama.”

“I’m marrying rich and right this year.”

We’ve been hearing this since 2019. Some of us since 2015.

Some of us even said these exact words in 2022… and here we are.

Still borrowing.

Still owing.

Still explaining why “this time it’s different.”

It’s almost funny—if it wasn’t so painfully familiar.

Let’s be honest:

most of us didn’t suddenly change because the calendar did.

The date changed. The habits didn’t.

The year upgraded. The behavior stayed on the same version.

That’s why I won’t stand here and give you advice like I figured life out. I don’t know what to tell you that you haven’t already heard from bloggers, podcasters, influencers, pastors, motivational speakers, and that one aunt on WhatsApp.

So I won’t lie to you.

Don’t trust yourself too much.

That’s why we’re told to trust in God and not lean on our own understanding. Because motivation fades. Promises break. Discipline slips.

Faith without action doesn’t move anything.

As for the “power of the tongue”… I’m questioning it.

I’ve noticed how fast negative words seem to come true, while positive ones sometimes feel like they only exist to comfort us mentally. Maybe saying things isn’t enough. Maybe doing matters more than declaring.

So as the new year comes in, reflection should already be done.

If you waited until today—you’re late.

December was for reflection. January is for movement.

Let’s change—but not loudly.

Let’s do better—but not blindly.

Let’s grow—in actions, not just words.

A Personal Note

In 2026, I’m committed to improving my blogging life—expanding it, refining it, and taking it seriously across more social media platforms.

If you’re reading this and you support what I do, please comment.

Even one word. Even a sentence.

I see the views from different countries, but the silence is discouraging.

You can also support me by following or subscribing—there is a follow button on the site. Scroll past the ads and you’ll see it. It’s bright. It says “Followers.”

Faith plus action.

That’s the energy we’re taking into the new year.

Happy New Year in advance.

Let’s hope for better—and do better.

Black Americans, Stop Spreading Ignorance About Nigeria: Trump Isn’t Killing Us, ISIS Is

How One Tweet Exposed the Cruelty of Ignorance Toward Nigeria’s Dead”**

I saw the tweet.

“Trump is killing Black people on Christmas Day.”

And I won’t lie — it made my chest tight.

Not the kind of tightness that passes. The kind that sits there. Burning. Heavy. Personal.

Because while you were typing that sentence — casually, confidently, ignorantly — people in northern Nigeria were hiding, fleeing, mourning, or burying the dead.

And you reduced all of that to a lazy American race slogan.

That is what hurt me.

That is what angered me.

That is what I cannot ignore.

This Is Not Shock. This Is Pattern

I am not surprised.

Because it is always the same pattern on social media — especially Twitter.

Not all Black Americans. I will repeat that clearly.

But the loud ones who refuse to think beyond America.

Every global crisis becomes:

• white vs black

• America vs the world

• racism vs racism

Even when racism is not the central issue.

Nigeria is not your extension of U.S. racial trauma.

Nigeria is not your metaphor.

Nigeria is not your prop.

Nigeria is bleeding.

What Actually Happened — Since Facts Suddenly Matter

In late December 2025, reports confirmed that U.S. forces carried out targeted strikes against ISIS‑linked militants operating in northern Nigeria, following intelligence about extremist camps and planned attacks.

These were not random civilians. These were armed Muslim extremist networks — the same networks that for years have carried out:

• kidnappings of schoolchildren and • families

• public executions

• church burnings

• murder of pastors

• raids on villages

• forced displacement

• ransom videos posted online

Groups aligned with Boko Haram and ISIS ideology have openly filmed themselves:

• holding kidnapped victims

• displaying ransom/stolen money

• celebrating killings

• promising to strike again

This is not rumor.

This is not propaganda.

This is their own footage.

And yet — after all this — some of you saw the word Trump and stopped thinking.

How Did You Make This About Yourself So Fast?

That is the question I cannot shake.

How do you live:

• with clean water

• with safety

• with schools

• with police protection

• with freedom of movement

• with freedom of worship

and still feel entitled to speak over people who don’t?

People in northern Nigeria:

• can’t send their children to school

• can’t go to church safely

• can’t farm without fear

• can’t sleep without listening for gunshots

And you — safe, distant, untouched — tweet as if you are the authority.

That is not activism.

That is privileged noise mixed with illogical sense.

Calling It “Christian Genocide Propaganda” Is a Pathetic excuse of a Human 

Let me say this plainly, because it needs to be said:

If you have watched:

• raw videos of kidnappings

• churches destroyed

• families executed

• pastors killed

• Muslim terrorists chanting "Allah Akubar" slogans while shooting

and you still say “this is propaganda” —

then something is deeply wrong with you.

This violence is not staged dear. This suffering is not exaggerated. And dismissing it because it doesn’t fit your narrative is cruel.

Shame on you!

And Yes — African Leadership Has Failed Too

Nigeria’s leadership has failed its people. African leaders have been quiet. Regional solidarity has been weak.

That truth does not cancel the other truth: When help comes — even imperfect help — people who are desperate will cling to it.

You don’t get to judge that desperation from a place of comfort.

What Hurt Me Most

What hurt me most was not the tweet itself.

It was the ease with which suffering was dismissed. The confidence of ignorance. The refusal to listen to Nigerians. The audacity to speak louder than those living it.

And no — I will not wish Nigeria’s reality on you. I am not that cruel.

But I will say this:

If you cannot research, if you cannot listen, if you cannot pause before outraging —

then sometimes silence is the most ethical option.

This Is a Pause — Not a Plea

This is not me begging you to agree. This is me demanding that you think.

Nigeria is not your culture war. Nigeria is not your Twitter battlefield. Nigeria is a country of real people who deserve to be seen as more than a slogan.

Pause.

Think.

Research.

Then speak.

— The girl behind The Dreamer’s Pause ⏯️

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

English Is Not Your Ancestral Language — Stop Acting Like It Is

YOUR ENGLISH ACCENT IS NOT A MEASURE OF YOUR INTELLIGENCE — RELAX.

(Yes, I said it.)

Let’s stop pretending this is not a thing.

In South Africa, the moment you open your mouth and speak English, you’ve already been placed in a box. Not gently. Aggressively. With labels.

Your accent can tell people:

• which province you’re from

• which school you went to

• which university you attend (or attended)

• your race

• your class

• sometimes even the suburb you live in

And let’s not lie — a lot of the time, those assumptions are accurate. And that’s social reality.

But here’s where the madness begins.

English became a weapon, not a language 🔪

Somehow, English — a language not indigenous to Africa — has turned into a measuring stick Africans use to judge each other.

Bad accent? Mocked.

Different pronunciation? Laughed at.

Foreign rhythm? Twitter entertainment.

And the wildest part?

Most of the people doing the mocking do not have English as their mother tongue either.

Read that again. Slowly.

Acting like English is your ancestral inheritance 😭

You’d swear English was passed down through African bloodlines the way surnames are.

As if:

• English did not arrive here through colonialism

• English was not taught in classrooms, not kitchens

• English was not learned, adapted, survived

Yet some of us defend our version of English like we were born in Buckingham Palace.

Suddenly, everyone’s a pronunciation police officer 🚨

Suddenly, everyone’s an Oxford graduate.

Please.🙄

Meanwhile… in actual English-speaking countries 🌍

Let’s be very honest.

White English speakers do not all sound the same. They do not understand each other easily. They struggle too.

• Americans struggle with Scottish English

• Brits struggle with Irish English

• Australians confuse Americans

• Jamaicans confuse almost everybody (with love 😭)

Accents clash. Misunderstandings happen. People ask, “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

What usually doesn’t happen? 👉 Public humiliation. 👉 Intelligence-shaming. 👉 Turning accent into character assassination.

But somehow, in Africa, we do it with confidence.

Yes, some accents are hard to understand. So what?

Let’s not lie for the sake of being politically correct.

Some accents are difficult. Some pronunciations are confusing. Some English will make you pause and ask yourself if your ears are okay.

That is normal.

That does not mean:

• the speaker is stupid ❌

• the speaker is uneducated ❌

• the speaker’s English is “wrong” ❌

It means your ear is not trained to that rhythm yet. FULL STOP!

The part we don’t like to admit 🪞

When Africans mock other Africans’ English, it’s rarely about clarity.

It’s about:

• insecurity

• internalised hierarchy

• proximity to whiteness

• sounding “better” than the next person

English becomes a badge. An accent becomes currency. And cruelty becomes entertainment.

That’s not confidence. That’s fear dressed up as superiority.

Let’s say this plainly

“Accent is not a measure of intelligence. It is a record of history.”

And this one needs to be framed:

Pretending one African accent is ‘correct’ while others are laughable is dishonest and harmful.

Because English was never meant to sound the same everywhere. If it did, it wouldn’t be a global language.

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

Crying on Camera While Your Mother Dies: How Did We Get Here?

Grieving or Performing? The Wild, Outrageous Reality of Social Media Mourning

Sometimes, the world manages to astonish you—not with beauty, but with sheer audacity.

Recently, a video circulated online that left me both horrified and deeply unsettled. It showed a young woman, older than me, standing just outside a hospital room. Her mother had just passed away inside. The scene should have been quiet, heavy, intimate. Yet, instead of retreating into private grief, she pulled out her phone. On Snapchat, she picked a filter, pressed record, and screamed her lungs out while holding the camera. She cried, shouted, and displayed raw emotion—yes—but for the world to watch.

Think about that for a moment. The rawness of losing your mother—the woman who carried you, nourished you, loved you unconditionally. And yet, in that moment, there’s the presence of mind, or maybe the sheer nerve, to record it, perform it, and publish it. It’s bewildering. Where does that energy come from? Who taught grief to pose for a camera?

This is not an isolated incident. Several months ago, another story circulated— an influencer, a woman helping people in her community noticed a heavily pregnant woman in distress on the street. Exhausted, vulnerable, and in desperate need of care, the woman was supported by her, helped to hospitals, and finally admitted. Tragically, her twins were stillborn. Witnessing this profound grief and loss firsthand, the helper—again— immediately opened her camera, recorded herself crying, and posted it online. In real time.

And it doesn’t end there. I know someone personally, a young man whose aunt passed away. He grieved, sincerely, as most of us do. But walking down the street, with tears streaming, he decided the world needed to see his mourning. Press record. Monologue. Tears. Posted on his status. Like the sidewalk was his stage. It’s confusing. It’s exhausting. And it raises the same question: why?

We have officially entered the era of performative grief. Funerals are vlogs. Mourning has become a content niche. The sacred, private, deeply personal experience of loss is being transformed into a spectacle for views, likes, and engagement.

Let me be clear: grief itself is natural. Crying is healthy. Sharing pain is human. But recording and broadcasting it while the wound is still fresh? Seeking attention, approval, or validation in that moment? That is not grief. That is performance. And normalizing it is dangerous—not for the deceased, but for the living.

Grief deserves respect. Loss deserves dignity. And the dead—especially our own loved ones—deserve privacy. Some things are sacred. Some things should never be a trend.

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.

NSFAS, Scammers, and the Heroes Nobody Applauds (Until It’s Almost Too Late)

“Exposed, Exploited, and Saved: The NSFAS Story Nobody Talked About”

By The Dreamer’s Pause

We live in a world where your personal information — your identity, your future, your hard-earned details — can be more vulnerable than you think. And sometimes, it takes two strangers to remind us just how fragile our digital safety really is.

In Cape Town, two brothers — Connor and Jordan — discovered a gaping hole in the NSFAS system. Millions of pieces of private information were visible online. ID numbers, home addresses, income details, email addresses — all accessible to anyone with enough technical curiosity.

They didn’t exploit it. They didn’t profit from it. They did the rare thing: they acted responsibly, tried to report it, and when ignored, made the issue public. They became guardians of information in a system that failed to protect it.

Meanwhile, the darker side of human nature is never far away. On social media, some self-proclaimed “helpers” offer assistance to NSFAS applicants. For many, this is genuine guidance — people who know the process and want to help. But for others, it’s an opportunity to steal, manipulate, and profit from desperation. Your trust can be their currency.

It’s alarming. It’s unsettling. And it’s a reality that anyone applying for funding must face: your data is only as safe as the systems and people you trust.

The lesson is simple, but often overlooked:

• Be vigilant, Not all help is helpful. Not all smiles are honest.

• Own your process. You are capable of navigating official systems yourself.

• Guidance is fine — but never hand over control.

• Recognize the quiet heroes. Some people do the right thing without expectation of reward, and their actions can save countless others from harm.

There’s a bitter truth here: we live in a world where the line between assistance and exploitation is razor-thin. Yet, there is hope. There are people who act ethically, who use knowledge to protect rather than to profit. And sometimes, they change the lives of hundreds without ever asking for recognition.

To Connor and Jordan: thank you. You reminded us that in a world of risk and digital exposure, responsibility and integrity still exist. And to everyone applying for NSFAS: the power, the safety, and ultimately the success, lie in your hands.

Be careful. Be wise. But above all, be accountable — for yourself and for the trust you place in others.

© 2025 The Dreamer’s Pause. All rights reserved.