* BBM confused face*.

One of the questions I get asked more than "How is school" is "Have you met someone yet"?

This surprises me every single time, because its asked right after I have normally moaned and groaned about how much school work I have.  After going in so much detail about how my life is really about getting up, going to school, coming to Res, doing my school work every single day.  Even my ex Boss asked me that!!!!!   The fact that am older than most of the boys on campus, is flatly ignored.  I am surrounded by boys young enough to be my brothers, and the word Demi*cougar, COUGHS* has come up mainer times.

This has got me wondering, am I missing something?

I have never had damsel in distress tendencies, and if am pressed to be one, I call my guy friends, they always quick on their feet whether its to fix a broken cudboard door and gay friends make excellent dates for any event.  I make single look so good.  I am not bitter about love, but am realistic when it comes to it.  One of my friends says I love everything about love, yes I do, when its healthy and beautiful I do.  However am not attracting healthy so far, so I will it sit this one out, and bury myself in my school work, its better than any unhealthy relationship.

And no I have not seen much of the Cape Town males, because my face is always buried in a book, or am stuck in my dungeon*what I call my room at Res* staring at my laptop, avoiding Wikipedia.  Am sure the security guards at Roeland*school* and the shuttle drivers do not count!!!!! 

Love will find me, but if does not, I will not have a mini stroke about it, who knows maybe I make a great cat keeper than a girlfriend*spinster tendencies*.  Sadly that does not mean the "Have you met someone yet" line will not pop up:). 

Not all who wander are lost.

Alone

Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don't believe I'm wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.

-Maya Angelou

Being LOST has always symbolised being alone for me.  Whether you are lost because you did not ask for directions, picture a girl in the big city, scared, lost and alone, or you are lost because you trying to 'find' yourself or inner peace.  No man is an island, but we live in a time where self reliance is a must in order to avoid being disappointed.  You might wander because you got distracted, that is how you ended up lost. 

However the title says, not all who wander are lost.  When I feel alone or need a home for my soul, I read a lot, in order to escape from my thoughts.  Or I call a friend, who sheds a light and makes me feel better.  We may not want to not rely on people, or show weaknesses, but when you ask for help/directions, you are not necessarily being weak, or showing signs of no destination/drive.  You are simply asking for assistance, to be carried, in order to find your way again.  Hence you were wandering, but you were not lost...you simply took the wrong turn to your destination.

DR MAYA ANGELOU, mayaangelou.com

How do you step from the top of a 100-foot pole?

lethalSquish images

I would slide down silly, pulling the moves I would have learnt from my pole dancing lessons.  I have always secretly wanted to join a  pole dancing class, not a secret anymore*using looney voice*. 

I am not going to share what I would be wearing*but think black, lacy and a dash of red*, am a woman after all.  Honestly though, I really would slide, and I hope the pole won't be made out of wood, that would be uncomfortable.

According to my source, oh yes GOOGLE,  pole dancing is a great source of exercise, it improves muscle tone and helps with weight loss if used in conjunction with your diet. Pole dancing is becoming more and more popular with the general population and the image of the seedy strip club is changing to an image of health and fitness.

Now 'trying to step from the top of a 100-foot pole' would be tricky, like most things in life, except eating a bag of chips in front of the TV of course*an art I master by the way*.    So pole dancing is ideal, I would be looking and feeling amazing, abs of steel, no thunder thighs, as I manoeuvred or slide my way out of yet another tricky situation in my life.

Am like a child all over again.

This is a picture of any typical township life back in the days.  When I saw it, I remembered my childhood. 'When playing was a dirty game', literally. This is a game I enjoyed every holidays except in Winter.

Our bodies were used to the maximum, and getting to be the champ had no boundaries.  The boy in the picture who is me when I was 7, is playing with marbles.  In a game of marbles everybody brings their own marbles, and the plan is to win as many as marbles from your opponents as possible.  Then the winner takes all as per any game....

This week, am going home for the Easter break.  Now I won't play till am that dirty, nor do I have any intentions of lying on the ground like that.  Yet this term felt like that, I played hard*nothing fancy, my 'playing hard' is my school work, bleeeeh*, and gave the best I could.  As the little chap in the picture, my eyes were focused on winning, and my win was to survive this term.

Now I get to go home, lick my wounds, eat, play and hopefully rest.  My mind is like that of a child, am so excited I can't even sleep.   I came to Cape Town, I saw things I must change about myself, did not conquer as yet...but lived long enough to see 'THE END' of this term.

'I WILL BE BACK', in Arnie's voice.

*huge grin*

We are what we do.

image by: mittromneycentral.com

I do a lot of things in a day, week, month, please be specific...don't want to be labelled for the 'wrong' things *putting on my defencive armour*. 

I once read, Human beings like labelling things, then it makes them feel secure in their choice.  Please do not quote me on this, I could have read it on Wikipedia who knows, very unreliable source as I keep being told.  Anyways, I don't like labelling people, this may be purely because I do not like it when it is done to me as well.  Which happens frequently*looks around, maybe I am crazy*.  Most people say am crazy, this is merely because am not like them, when fitting in is the order of the day.  Am too complex to be put in a glass bottle and be tagged.  You might read this and say am a very defencive person, another tag by the way. 

Someone once said I do not look like someone who can cook, then I replied, flip I left my tag on my bed, it reads*I have a black belt in EGG BOILING*.  Very few people know that my Mum raised us*my sisters and I* in a one bed roomed house full of books before we moved to the 'Burbs'.  Every summer holidays we would go to the Transkei to visit my grandfather.  The chores there included waking up at five am, working in the garden, cleaning the house, tending to the sheep,cows, chickens and cooking for an army*my family is that big*.  Of late I have been labelled as a pompous cow*excuse my french*, coconut, crazy because people need to tag me in order to understand me.  That being said, I think am a typical South African dream, born to a middle class home, raised by a single amazing mother, sent to the 'best school' in my dorpie(Aliwal North), worked hard to get my 1st degree...then the world was my oyster.

Yes maybe I am what I do, which is work hard with the hope of serving my country, be a good daughter, a reliable sister, super hero aunt, and a good friend.  By the way I am a tad bit crazy, but am the only person who can say it. Let's rather say it like the Wayans Brothers in White Chicks, You said, but you were THINKING IT.

When quitting is not an option

I made a friend in class a couple of weeks back, we clicked from the word go...So we hanged and laughed most of the time, till she dropped a bomb on me and told me she was quitting  PR.  This really broke my heart.  It was hard because when you have a plus one*friend* in a new environment you tend to feel a bit better.  She could not anymore and I had to respect that.

Every Thursday, I take sometime and reflect on my week.  Its choose Thursday because our classes or lectures end on a Thursday.  So I sit and count what have I achieved, what will I do differently next week.  One of the first things on my list is always, I will hold on and I will survive.  This is normally true till I start on Monday again, then the self doubt starts again, the anxiety attacks and other insecurities I cannot explain on this page.  Its hard...its draining and I had a fellow classmate ask me is it even worth it?

I honestly don't know if its worth it...but I know that lovely, empowering feeling you get after finishing an assignment*pictures of Thandi dancing in my room come into mind*.  I know that feeling at the end of the day, when you start thinking and speaking like a PR practitioner, that sense of accomplishment, I started it, therefore I can finish it. 

I joined a Zumba class with two of my classmates, felt darn good in the midst of the craziness.  Met a girl who suggested I must join their swimming class, I can swim but I would like to bring out the black Penny Heyns in me*another challenge*.  So it was another terrible week, but it brought other blessings as well...

This is my story, I wont quit, I will be miserable half of the time, walk around looking like a zombie, but am going to make this work!!!!!

Cheers to another bad week.

image by: archive.blisstree.com

We are afraid of the wrong things

Am an aunt, to a niece who is 18 and a nephew who is turning 5 this year.  Time flies...when my sister had her daughter I was 10.  So I was still young, and thought she was so tiny.  Babysitting was part of the package in my late teens, she was a sweet child, and loved singing in front of the stove with the hoover cord.  Now when she had my nephew, that was love to another level.  I love him like his my own, well he is besides the formalities.  He runs around the room, he destroys stuff, when I do spank him, a part of me shifts, deep inside, then I end up hugging him instead of disciplining him.  Then at that point in time, I know it must be pretty amazing to love so unconditionally.

I sometimes wonder if I will have children or will there ever be a good or right time.  I have so much stuff to do and figure out, to bring a child into this*I can't even name it*, would be such a cruel move on the child's part or an inconvenience for me.  At the rate our country is going, will it even be safe, 5 years down the line to have children?   And if I end up not having them, would that mean I have not accomplished one of my duties as a woman?  Would I be less of a woman?  Then there is that fear, if I don't have kids who will look after me when am older?  To make things worse I have friends getting children left, right and centre.  They tell you its better to have them now, while you can play with them.  Then there is the age issue, and finding a guy in these telling times of HIV/Aids.  Then these thoughts continue, and I end up in a frenzy thinking of things I cannot control.

These are baseless fears, and strictly put by society and my own silliness, and are the wrong kind of fears.  Maybe I won't have kids, maybe I will.  At the end of the day, I will have fulfilled my true purpose to be what I want to be.  Make my mom proud, and be a good sister. I will have travelled the world, because time does not wait for anybody anyways.  Fear does this to a person, makes you paranoid, makes you not enjoy now, or give your best.  Maybe I won't have kids, but can I look back and be proud of what I see.  While I was panicking, I forgot that my niece is in matric this year and has decided she wants to be a doctor, my nephew who is autistic is healthy and is a happy child.  Gives the best kisses and when we first head about it, I was sad for a day or two, then I decided this does not matter, we love him and his the most beautiful boy in the world.  Fear would have robbed me of that kind of reasoning.

 

Friends

Well my blog is more about my moving to Cape Town, finding my feet, and my journey to qualify as a Public Relations Practitioner.  So most of the stuff will be about that...sorry to bore you guys*talking to the voices in my head*, ha ha ha.  I love this place, this week has just got me to a point where I look around the room and think, thank you for putting me with this bunch.  Yet today I woke up really missing my old life.

Friends first and foremost, are the family we choose ourselves...they might possibly be the reflection of what we would like to become or are.  Unlike family, they stay because they want to, not because they have to.

This is a picture of my two mates and I on a weekend away in Clarens, I call it a 'frozen moment', in that picture I was so happy, I could have cried(yes am a cry baby).  We had just gone horse riding.  The guy in the picture is Sabe, one of the kindest man I have ever laid my eyes on.  He spoils me rotten, sees who I am and accepts me JUST the way I am.  I have never had to change or explain myself to him, in friends we try to find a sense of belonging.  His an ally, an ex jogging mate, but mostly a safe haven I can always run to, I chose very well with this one(Sabe).  Loyiso, purple scarf, is my little sister from another mother, we share a passion for loving every single thing about South Africa...from the music, books, clothes, food, the people and we firmly believe in the South African dream.  After this trip, we vowed after my studies we going to find more dorpies in South Africa, the Augrabies Falls are next in our list..  Clarens is in the East of the Free State, its a hippie town, full of arts and crafts shops, there is also the Golden Gate Route to see.  We called it the Hidden Paradise.

Last year when I turned 26, I found myself at the crossroads, thinking what is the next step in my journey.  Do I stay and suck in the longing to spread my wings, instead of leaving all these people behind or do I move away and never look back?  However when I did decide to move, and start this chapter, the very same people cheered and were so excited like its their own new adventure.  I am truly blessed to have always been surrounded by such friends or as my Mother always says in choosing the "right" friends.

My two gay friends, Tshepo on the left, the softer one of the two.  Furah, who I call the love of my life, my best friend, and the son my mother never had.  We fight like a cat and a dog, but I having to live without him, not being able to bring him to Cape Town is the worst part of this deal.









Far Left, is Sophia, my Greek ninja, we worked together and we often wonder how we survived life without each other in the 1st place.  The lady in the black top, is Khothatso we have been friends since I was 2 and she was 3.  She is my person as Meredith Grey affectionately calls Christina.  Nicole, the Blondie, me and her met through a friend(Chanel), she is on a cruise ship at the moment, she is a ball of sunshine and am happy to announce she has also relocated to Cape Town.

This little lady(Chanel) and I met at a very 'fragile' point in my life.  In me she gained an older sister.  She says through my eyes and experiences, she saw the real South Africa.  I have in turn gained a new family, she has five siblings and the coolest Dad on earth.

I am constantly crying, frustrated, but every end of the week I feel a sense of accomplishment.  One step a time they keep saying.  This weeks tears for a change were not because am unhappy, but simply overwhelmed in the midst of all this craziness, God provided new friends.  My classmates cheer for me like they have known me all their lives, its like I walked in on my Kaap family.

Cape Town also gave me a chance to renew an old friendship, a friend(Itumeleng) who stays down the road. The other day she popped in to bring R20 for bread because she does not want me to starve to death at Res, she said. This a friend who is worth keeping for a lifetime.

I did say they are a family you choose for yourself...

Fish falling from the sky

In Cape Town specifically*OMG*...

That would be a crazy day, Black people would run around screaming, trying to find a place to hide, instead of taking the fish.  Thinking the world is ending.  I can just imagine some Gogo in Khayelitsha putting on her Women's Guild Church Uniform, praying very hard.   Black mothers, screaming at the top of their lungs not leaving their yards, saying their kids must come home immediately*and a picture of my Mum with her doek(head scarf) popped in my head*.

Coloured people, would be on some "AWE MY BROER , so klomp vis" and start putting it in their cooler boxes and fridges.  Fisherman would do the 'WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP DANCE' no going to work for us today.

Aaaaah don't get me started about White folks, these people curiosity is beyond me.  They would probably stand outside thinking "MHMMMMM WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE HAPPENING" and put on their Geek clothes and try to solve the mystery.  Old Mrs van Tonder would peep behind her curtains and tell her 5 cats to sit still, its this Government's fault she would probably say. 

Greek and Portuguese people would just keep the fish and sell it in their Fish and Chips shops, or find ways to make the fish fall in their factories only...another way to make more money.

I can just see Debora Patta from ETV giving us the news live on TV, while the fish keep hitting her face.Helen Zille would tweet about it, the ANC would find a way to blame it on Helen(picture of Juju pops in my head). 

  And it would give the notion of 'fresh fish' a total new spin.  Perfume companies would make millions afterwards with people trying to spray the odour away a day later. 


*Disclaimer:  no stereotyping please, laugh, don't go all political, its just a blog*.

Let's take a long walk

I recently discovered Lower Main(Obs), well its not recent anymore, but when I first arrived I walked down Lower Main, and it was love at first sight/walk.  All the people looked like they had walked out of a an artist's magazine.  It has a side to it that I totally love...dirty, artsy, and very much breathtaking.  Sometimes when things get too hectic at Res, I just go walk there and my mind is cleared.  I don't know if its the music store, with records on the wall, the old bookstores that smell like an old house with so much stories to tell, the foreigners that permanently occupy its streets or simply because its what I always thought of Cape Town would be, totally bonkers.  Whatever the reason is, I love that side of town.

Last week a old friend came into to town, we walked the whole of Long Street, it was something that words would never be able to let me describe...EPIC.  Him being in Cape Town was good to share, the old life and the new life in Cape Town.  Such life, unlike Lower Main with the dirtiness that suits Lower, it is like walking into a European Magazine...they were photo shoots, people lunching on the side walk, lovely shops and not enough time to pop into every single one of them.  And there I was with my long skirt, black vest,my locks(hair) being blown by the wind, denim jacket in hand feeling like am in a Guess ad...*mhmmmm fancy ne*.

Taking walks clears my mind, refreshes my soul, makes me be able to put things into perspective and sometimes just to be still. This is my drug, that makes my heart pump all day long.  With the pressure am constantly under of late, I feel like I am in a glass box, no windows no door, trapped, when I start walking, I feel like am alive again.  I would walk all of Cape Town if I could, but the sun is harsh here, its got me looking like black piece of toast....

What is the colour of the wind?

                                                  Image:  fancyhouseroad.com

Three images came into mind, when I asked myself this question...

My childhood days in the location, dry August afternoons and when the wind came, it would be full of soil, red soil to be precise.  When it blows, it sits on your hair, making it dirty and makes your skin ashy.  All the surfaces in the house would be full of dust, you could even taste it in your mouth, eggggg...and the little pebbles would make crunching sounds on your teeth*terrible*.  Playing outside would make your eyes sore, and you would have to stay inside because it stung your legs as well.

Then I went to a Catholic School, full of trees and when the wind blows, leaves with beautiful colours, gold, yellow and brown would just fly in the air...something magical to see.

Then the very first time I went to the beach, I was introduced to something else, the see breeze, something that makes you feel alive, brushes on your skin and makes your lips taste salty.  There you really see the power of the wind, blue and majestic.

I would like to think its gold, yellow and brown, because those are beautiful colours of the earth.

                                               Image: Autumn Wind by Richard Gordon

A positive spin to fear

The upside of fear Sylvia Lafair

I have come to realise that fear is the worst thing in the world.  It holds you back, undermines all your accomplishments and locks you up in a small dark room. Pressures you to be its roommate but does not help with the bills. Fear is worse than a bad boyfriend, who took you for granted when you were with him, but won't let you go now that you say its over.

                                                     Image: the great fear    Stock photo
It comes into your house, makes itself tea, chooses a comfortable couch and simply overstays without being slightly bothered about what "people or a person" might think.  You feel it lurking in your room, even though you put a DO NOT DISTURB  sign on the door.  Then you end up entertaining it, playing mind games with it, while it chuckles softly because you gave it the time of day.  It should be complimented on its patience, its commitment because its just waiting for you to crack...

Yet I cannot seem to operate without mine, as much as I hate it, sometimes I need 'FEAR' to jumpstart me into action. I procrastinate too much, so "fear" whispers in my head silly ideas.  I am not sure if one can also say fear is equivalent to one's gut feeling, because if it is, then it has saved me from terrible situations before.  Half of the time its not because am scared of it, but I get a high out of proving it wrong.  Maybe its not the "fears' fault but am my own worst critic and enemy.  Shifting the blame is always so much easier...

Maybe if I look at it in that positive manner as its my "gut feeling", then we can share our dark room, even though inside my head am still a resistant roommate.