Making Excuses

There is one girl in every class, in every group, in every society who stands out from the rest. I am not speaking of the exquisite beauties or the greatest hosts; not to the drama queen or the promiscuous slut.

No, I am referring; with great irritation I may add, to that one girl who is pleasant, sweet and caring. She always means well and she’s relatively humorous. She seems pretty normal but when she speaks, and I suppose it is not her fault, her voice grates on your soul; it leaves your ears shrieking in absolute pain!

There can be no greater irritation than someone with a horrible speaking habit. It could be due to her accent, or her speech impediment, or her slang or anything.

The thing is, most of the time, you won’t even realize. You won’t realize that it irritates you. You will not even hear it…

Until that fateful day in which someone, some slightly removed scum, decides to point it out to you!

Your bubble is burst and from that moment on your friendship will always be slightly tarnished as you desperately try not to notice it, feeling that all too familiar feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck standing up.

It is in these moments that you realize how important a person is to you. Or anything for that matter…

“If it is important to you, you will find a way. If not, you’ll find an excuse.”

Secrets of the Heart

You may never know…

 You could never comprehend the true depth of longing that grieves my very soul at the mere thought of you. It is not for you to know. It is my secret; mine to be kept in the darkest dungeons of my heart. The aching need produced by a memory of your presence which slowly threatens to push me over the edge.

There are no words.

Words cannot begin to describe the depth of emotion that torments me in the loneliest hours of the forbidden sleepless nights.

Forgotten are the nights of restful sleep awaking in the morning to the cheerful chatter of birds and the fragrance of freshly baked bread tempting my desire, replaced by nights of fearful dreams and restlessness only to be awoken by a truth that haunts me.

How could you know? How could you ever understand?

You continue to survive without the need I feel. You do not feel the longing I feel. You continue to suggest to me with emotions you do not feel; for surely if you felt as I did, you would make me yours?

And yet I beg to see you, I long to talk to you and I ache to feel your touch.

I wonder do you see me; do you notice that my heart is yours? Will you ever feel the way I feel for you?

Or am I just the faded memory of a night of laughter and a perfect kiss?

Every Contact Leaves a Trace

Life is unbelievably fragile. It is an honour, a once off opportunity, and a period of love, smiles, laughter, anguish, pain and a host of other emotions. It is delicate and can be broken as easily as it can be formed.

In our lives we make choices that make us who we are. We choose our friends, our morals, our beliefs and try to make the best of the opportunities we are given. Emotions are fleeting and strong and our passions run deep into our souls. We fight for what we believe in and we fight to survive. Every day is a battle and every minute is an intricate dance to the music of life.

Some are born into wealth, others create it for themselves and others die trying.

Death is inevitable. It is the only thing in life that is 100% guaranteed. But the timing is unknown. This motivates some to live every moment as if it’s their last while motivating others to hide in fear and isolate themselves from anything that may be dangerous. But when it comes to that moment when you have to fight for what you believe in, you cast these fears aside and step up to the plate not knowing whether you’ll come out alive or in a body bag.

Sometimes our very beliefs are the things that get us killed; sometimes it’s just timing and other times it’s just about being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

This is why death truly saddens me. Death is always untimely. There are always people who are left behind in a shadow of mourning and a pain which envelopes even the strongest of souls.

Life is fragile.

This brings me to the horrific tragedies that unfolded last week at Marikana involving the Lonmin miners.

The justifications for these murders have been headlined in every newspaper, every twitter feed and have been broadcasted through every media. The excuses have flown in from every angle and the blame has been passed from person to person, however, politics aside, it comes down to this; a stand off between one miner and one policeman both wielding weapons and both terrified, each thinking about their families and friends and each knowing that only one will survive.

Who decides the fate of this pair? Who decides who shall live and who shall die? In those final moments each looks into their soul to find the courage to fight for what they believe or to fight for survival.

Men, men with families, men with responsibilities, men with hope, died. They died fighting for an idea, a concept, and a hope for a better future but the idea lives on. These people could surely not have died in vain?

“Remember, remember, the Fifth of November, the Gunpowder Treason and Plot. I know of no reason why the Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot... But what of the man? I know his name was Guy Fawkes and I know, in 1605, he attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But who was he really? What was he like? We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world. I've witnessed first hand the power of ideas, I've seen people kill in the name of them, and die defending them... but you cannot kiss an idea, cannot touch it, or hold it... ideas do not bleed, they do not feel pain, they do not love... And it is not an idea that I miss, it is a man... A man that made me remember the Fifth of November. A man that I will never forget.”

These men will be forgotten by the general public. They will be cast aside by newer tragedies. They will join the news that covers battered hake or starts a fire and eventually all they will be is a distant memory for those who knew them.

There is no way to bring back the dead. They are long gone. But their fight must be worth something. Somehow their deaths have to mean something. If they achieved what they set out to achieve then at least they did not die for nothing.

How can one group of people be so selfish as to care more about lining their own pockets than about saving the lives of innocent people?

Friends Are The People We Wish Were Family

There is nothing as scary as breaking something that doesn’t belong to you, especially when you’ve told the owner that you will take good care of them.

Well, I’m sure there are scarier things out there but its so intimidating having to tell that person the truth. Your mind starts to spin, making up different stories as to why their belongings are now completely useless.

Recently a very good friend of mine forgot his sunglasses at my flat and I promised to look after them until I could give them back. Sunglasses are tricky as they are so easily broken and can range in value from about R20 to R5000.

So, not knowing their value I put them on my desk and didn’t touch them for a week. Next thing I knew they were broken and I was buying super-glue in the hopes of fixing them. Problem is that for some reason super-glue seems to work really well as a paint remover. So now, not only are they broken, but they’re also colourless and completely ruined.

So finally, this morning I plucked up every last ounce of courage I had and I sent Ali a text to tell him that I had broken his sunglasses and that I would replace them.

I was terrified. What if he got upset? What if they had sentimental value? What if they were really expensive? Would this ruin our friendship? Would he hate me forever?

So shaking from head to toe I waited for his reply. Seconds seemed like hours and the longer I sat there staring at my phone the bigger the issue seemed to be. Suddenly it wasn’t just a case of broken glasses but rather an issue of broken trust.

Finally the dreaded light of my blackberry flickered and to my relief I saw that it was indeed from him. Nervously I opened the text and read it... then reread it, and read it for a third time.

Turns out they only cost R25.

All that stress for nothing?

Well, not necessarily. If anything it told me something very important about our friendship. I must truly care about our friendship if I am that terrified of loosing it. And I must value our friendship far more than a pair of sunglasses, regardless of their value, to be able to man up and tell him the truth.

Either that or Ali is really unintimidating!

Investing

Anyone who is anyone has gotten there because of good investments. Investing in causes, or talents or companies is what makes people rich or famous or both. In my search for greatness I often find myself wondering what I should invest in and what I shouldn’t invest in. What is risk free and what is worth the risk?

Well, recently my mother was in search of a new Aga stove to replace ours. Ours is a really old one that came with the farm when we first bought it sixteen years ago and due to its age it still relies on anthracite as a carbon source. To those of you who are too young to know what anthracite is, it is a type of coal that is known for its high cost and its ability to make a complete mess.

The aim of replacing ours was to ensure that we wouldn’t have to rely on this out-dated carbon source but could still enjoy the pleasures of having an Aga stove. Those of you who haven’t lived with one will never understand the true greatness of the Aga, but just trust me, they are amazing!

Well, a new one, similar to ours costs R 220 000, which is about two thirds of what the farm originally cost us.

This reminded me of something that my dad always used to tell me; property is always a good investment. People are always going to need somewhere to live. There is always going to be a need for property and as the population grows this need becomes greater and the prices therefore rise. In order to lose money on property you have to make a lot of really stupid mistakes and the risk is therefore quite low.

The ultimate investment is one that is low risk, high return, and whilst this seldom occurs, property seems to be one of those things that are fairly bullet-proof.

So one day when I have some money saved up (if I ever stop drinking) I will invest in property and I suggest that you do too.

Either that or buy a stove?

Will You Make a Difference?

Whilst tossing and turning in bed at some ungodly hour this morning a shocking reality hit me – I have been sitting here, dictating to the general public about what ‘should’ be done about the current state of South Africa’s political affairs, without actually doing ANYTHING myself.

Not once have I stepped away from my precious keyboard in my air-conditioned room and stepped out onto the streets to see what is going on for myself. I walk to class without even noticing that the sidewalks were swept, by people who feed their entire families with the same amount of money I spend on booze each month, whilst I lay soundly asleep in my nice warm bed. I calmly toss away the twenty cents the cashier gave me without realizing that some people collect those coins so that they may be able to catch a train home this evening.

How can I be so blind? How dare I sit here and blog about the harsh realities others face and yet contribute to the very fact that they face those realities?

It needs to change, desperately. It is high time I got involved.

My blog will not make a difference in South Africa. It will not save a girl from being raped in a township I’ve never heard of. It will not save a child from a school where there are no textbooks and under qualified teachers. It will not save Eskom from building more coal power stations when they should be looking at green energy and biofuels.

It is time for us all to take a deep look at ourselves and make the decision to make a difference.

An Unrelenting Dance



Broken Hearts

Broken Homes

Broken children

Broken bones

A world of guns

Drugs

And rape

A world where the kids

Are never safe

A time of hate

A song so sad

Suicide

The latest fad

Policies

And Politics

Everyone trying

For another fix

Drugs and drama

Hate and love

Religion, Karma

Two white doves

Some survive

Full of grief

Some die of guilt

While others thieve

Yet the world spins on

Uncaring

Unloving

Relentless in its pain and dance

Be True to Yourself

There are some topics of conversation that we are told to avoid at all costs when meeting new people. The first is religion and the second is our sex lives. These are sensitive topics that can greatly damage one’s image of another and completely destroy a potential relationship, be it friendship or more intimate.

The truth is however, that waiting for a later stage could cause even more problems. I have found that once I know a person well enough I curb my opinions in order to better match theirs. I allow myself to be more subtle than I usually would because I fear that our friendship would not be able to handle the strain that the conflict would bring to our friendship, thus rendering the relationship completely superficial.

And so, I believe that opinions should be stated boldly initially and if the other person can maintain a friendship with you after that then the friendship has some merit. It saves you from lying to a potential friend and it saves you from wasting time on a relationship that will never have any depth.

The trick to stating your opinions is that one has to be accepting of the other person’s opinion. It is a sensitive, intimate moment and one cannot trample through this conversation without the willingness to accept that not everyone agrees with you. Once you realize that you can be friends with people who don’t always agree with you and realize that you are not always right then there is chance for growth and a relationship with a person as opposed to a mask.

It isn’t always easy to hear other people’s opinions, and it can be difficult to allow them to believe in something you believe is incorrect. However, do you truly believe that your opinions, and therefore yourself, are more superior to someone else’s?  Can you honestly say that you know more than the other person?

It comes down to this, always be true to your opinions and beliefs and always be open to other people’s thoughts. It is the only way to learn about yourself.

Malema

Please will somebody explain to me why after so long Julius Malema is still in the news?

He is no longer a celebrity. He has been publicly disgraced and yet the tabloid headlines are still filled with his random rants about how hard done by he is. Who cares?

Honestly the only reason he still has any power to influence the youth is because the media are allowing it. He has them wrapped around his little finger and he’s quite content to take full advantage of that fact. If no one published his idiotic comments then no one would read them and Malema would fall back into a well where nobody cares about his opinions regardless of how badly he expresses them.

I don’t want to open up my news app in the morning to find a whole bunch of Malema quotes that, quite frankly, no longer matter.

He has been expelled. End of story. Goodbye.

The longer the press allow him to abuse their readers the more chance he has of becoming powerful once more. Allowing him into the public eye will have profound effects on South Africa’s already fragile political state. As if we need anymore over publicized scandals!

Get rid of Malema for good before he breaks our country.  

Sewing Classes

Puberty is a horrible time for teenagers. So many things are happening at once and it’s difficult to find your footing. This is not helped by the readily available consortium of drugs and alcohol to lead you astray and as of late asphyxia has become an even scarier form of rebellion. It’s difficult to get into the crowd, it’s difficult to stay in the crowd and it’s even more difficult to get out of the crowd.

So tell me, in an age where everyone is seeking to prove that they are unique, why is it that there is still a certain hierarchy?

Why is everyone trying to prove they are unique by blending into the crowd? And how does pasting your body full of tattoos and piercings make you unique, when all you are doing is conforming to a certain ‘genre’ of people, whilst quietly hoping to get revenge on your parents for being so strict.

The solution is to go back a few years when men had to go to the army and woman were expected to go to sewing and cooking classes.

Now, I never grew up to the bitter drone of an army veteran’s repetitive stories about ‘when he was in the army’ so I may be slightly out of my depth here, but men went to the army for a year or two and came back more chiselled, more confident and more sure of themselves. And they came back to women who were lusty and good cooks.

I am not saying that men and women should be forced into a stereotype I am merely pointing out that if, after your final year of school, you have two years of discipline and fun then the pressure is off.

There is so much pressure put on you at the age of eighteen to decide what you want to do with your life, where you want to be in ten years, the kind of person you want to be, that teenagers are forcing themselves into these cliques to make themselves feel better about the fact that they still have no clue who they are!

How on earth are you supposed to be unique when you go through 60 emotions everyday due to the raging hormones pumping through your body making you bigger and hairier? It’s terrifying enough going through puberty without all the pressure of making decisions that will affect the rest of your life.

And then there is the GAP year, although I’m not entirely sure that a year of pointless drinking and tending at some bar in the back streets of London counts as ‘figuring out your life.’

So what do we do?

We end up studying some arbitrary course in a university where we hear the parties are great and we half-heartedly meander through three years of meaningless rubbish at dad’s expense all so that at the end of it we can get a job at a company where our degrees are completely useless anyway.

Well, I’m actually kind of enjoying doing that at the moment, so maybe it isn’t such a problem after all.

But in my next life, sign me up for sewing classes!