Yippee, only 4 days to sunshine and proper summer weather!!
I can barely contain my excitement - I can't wait to throw on my swimsuit and feel the sun rays embrace my ghostly skin. Like a giant generate, the sun will recharge my batteries and I will have an abundance of energy again. Oh and I get to see my family and friends again - it is going to be a fabulous Christmas.
Like most people at this time of year, I've been doing a lot of reflecting on 2008 and I must say it certainly has been a year to remember. So much of my life has changed and I am really enjoying riding the waves of an unpredictable life. Monotony and stability just doesn't work for me - as a teenager I swore I would never become a grey suit and yet that is just what happened.
The saying "and then I grew up" rang true for me and instead of fighting the norm, I accepted it and slowly saw the real me disappear. Even though I was disgruntled with the way life was going, I continued to wear the grey suit to avoid conflicts and disapproval, until my soul was screaming so loud that I had to break free. I decided then and there to take charge of my destiny and all I can say is Wow. It is amazing how fast change can happen when you accept it into your life.
As I look back on the year I can honestly say I wouldn't change a thing. While it is true that perhaps I could have been a little more sensitive to others when I caused upheavals and I do still feel a bit bad about it, however the decisions were right. I am on a different path now and that excites me.
I've encountered many people who look at me in amazement when I tell them that change is possible and that it is up to each and every one of us to decide on a path. The rebuttles are all the same and quite frankly not valid. They are merely excuses born out of fear. I truly believe that we would not have been given the gift of dreaming if we weren't meant to fulfil our dreams.
My mantra for the new year is "dream it; believe in it; live it" - my only wish is that others too may start believing in themselves again and start seeing the possibilities of life before old age sweeps in. Life is so much more fun when you are living your dreams.
Wednesday, 17 December 2008
Saturday, 8 November 2008
Life in the sun
Hola todos!
Well I am absolutely loving Spain - work is good and totally relaxed. I don't think I have ever laughed so much on a project before and the biggest bonus is that I get to wear casual clothes to work ....yippee!!! For the first time in many years I am enjoying IT but I do think this can largely be attributed to the eclectic group of people I am working with. We are all from different corners of the world so it is facinating chatting to everyone about their countries and cultures. The one little issue is not being able to speak Spanish, most of the locals don't understand English so conversations are very limited. If I was there for longer I would definitely try to learn the language.
Working there has made me realise that there is really nothing left for me in the UK. Every morning when I draw back the curtains of my window I am greeted by a spectacular sunrise over the mountains, it is so peaceful, so beautiful - I just have to smile to myself. I can't think of a better way to start a day. It is so sunny and warm during the day that I don't even need to put on a coat or a jacket when I stand outside - such bliss! Coming back to the UK over the weekends is such a pain. My mood is as grey as the weather, I can't stand the noise, the dirty streets and the fast pace of London. Spain is way better than this crappy country. Hmmm... so do I move to Spain or Italy early next year- difficult decision.
Once this contract is finished I have to start making definite plans for the big move, I've wasted too much time just contemplating it. My excuses are no longer valid - I want a better life and I know I can get it in Spain or Italy. The great thing is that my writing is coming on and I am getting a lot more work in. It is so cool having a portable job.
OK so just a few more weeks in IT, then it is homeward bound for Christmas and in the new year I leave the UK for good and start writing full time. Life is going to be good - it'll be nice to start afresh, especially since it will be in the sun.
Well I am absolutely loving Spain - work is good and totally relaxed. I don't think I have ever laughed so much on a project before and the biggest bonus is that I get to wear casual clothes to work ....yippee!!! For the first time in many years I am enjoying IT but I do think this can largely be attributed to the eclectic group of people I am working with. We are all from different corners of the world so it is facinating chatting to everyone about their countries and cultures. The one little issue is not being able to speak Spanish, most of the locals don't understand English so conversations are very limited. If I was there for longer I would definitely try to learn the language.
Working there has made me realise that there is really nothing left for me in the UK. Every morning when I draw back the curtains of my window I am greeted by a spectacular sunrise over the mountains, it is so peaceful, so beautiful - I just have to smile to myself. I can't think of a better way to start a day. It is so sunny and warm during the day that I don't even need to put on a coat or a jacket when I stand outside - such bliss! Coming back to the UK over the weekends is such a pain. My mood is as grey as the weather, I can't stand the noise, the dirty streets and the fast pace of London. Spain is way better than this crappy country. Hmmm... so do I move to Spain or Italy early next year- difficult decision.
Once this contract is finished I have to start making definite plans for the big move, I've wasted too much time just contemplating it. My excuses are no longer valid - I want a better life and I know I can get it in Spain or Italy. The great thing is that my writing is coming on and I am getting a lot more work in. It is so cool having a portable job.
OK so just a few more weeks in IT, then it is homeward bound for Christmas and in the new year I leave the UK for good and start writing full time. Life is going to be good - it'll be nice to start afresh, especially since it will be in the sun.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
No clear path
Right now I am supposed to be writing an article about how food can help improve concentration and umm...I can't seem to get focussed. Just a tad ironic don't you think?
I actually have a good excuse though - I've done something that goes against my core being. I temporarily lost faith in my abilities and sold out to the highest bidder. This is starting to sound like I did something totally tragic but logically it was probably the right thing to do. You see I've accepted a one month contract back in the IT world and my heart is breaking. I do know that it is the responsible thing to do though. Yeah the money will be good and it isn't exactly what I used to do but it is still not who I am right now.
Positive thoughts....OK so I will be paid well and be able to live quite comfortably for a while and maybe even take a long overdue trip to SA. It is an easy post and I will be able to keep my head down, do the job and then leave. But as is typical in my life, I've just had to turn down more writing work and that does not please me in the least. The upshot is that I can be more selective about the writing gigs I accept in the near future and ensure that I only write articles about things I am passionate or at least interested in. BUT yuck IT again!!
In a sense I feel like a failure for going back to the old lifestyle but I know in my heart it isn't true. I have achieved a lot in the past few months and the only reason for this little diversion is money. I just wonder when I will be able to erase IT from my memory for good. Hopefully 2009 will be an IT free year.
Enough ranting, best I get back to...oh yeah the article on improving concentration.
I actually have a good excuse though - I've done something that goes against my core being. I temporarily lost faith in my abilities and sold out to the highest bidder. This is starting to sound like I did something totally tragic but logically it was probably the right thing to do. You see I've accepted a one month contract back in the IT world and my heart is breaking. I do know that it is the responsible thing to do though. Yeah the money will be good and it isn't exactly what I used to do but it is still not who I am right now.
Positive thoughts....OK so I will be paid well and be able to live quite comfortably for a while and maybe even take a long overdue trip to SA. It is an easy post and I will be able to keep my head down, do the job and then leave. But as is typical in my life, I've just had to turn down more writing work and that does not please me in the least. The upshot is that I can be more selective about the writing gigs I accept in the near future and ensure that I only write articles about things I am passionate or at least interested in. BUT yuck IT again!!
In a sense I feel like a failure for going back to the old lifestyle but I know in my heart it isn't true. I have achieved a lot in the past few months and the only reason for this little diversion is money. I just wonder when I will be able to erase IT from my memory for good. Hopefully 2009 will be an IT free year.
Enough ranting, best I get back to...oh yeah the article on improving concentration.
Saturday, 11 October 2008
A lost African
Well this is going to be a quick blog as I am heading out in a few moments but I just wanted to lament for a bit.
Just shy of a year ago, I was busy packing my bags for a trip of a lifetime into the depths of Africa to visit our nearest relatives, the gorillas. Filled with much trepidation, I was glad for the company of my mate. Honestly I don't think I would have done it without the arm-twisting of my friend.
It did turn out to be a trip of a lifetime, one that made me fall in love with Africa all over again - and subsequently I have been floating around the UK like a lost fart in a perfume factory ever since.
Much has changed in my life since then, with steely determination I am trying to make a go of freelance journalism and am trying to live according to my soul's desires. It isn't easy and at times I feel like throwing in the towel and returning to the stomach-churning world of IT but God-willing I will make my dreams come true. Things are looking up now, so hold thumbs this brief rocky period will soon be over.
Now for the lament...Africa. I miss it intensely but am not sure if I can go back there permanently. Having lived in the UK for so many years, can I still call myself African? People that have never lived abroad may not understand but as I sit here today I am kinda without nationality. I am neither African nor a Brit. Africa changed and so have I. When I speak to people still living in SA, I see this wide gap between their ways and my own. In order to survive in the UK I adapted my ways. I will never be a Brit but there are elements of me that are more Brit then SA. So where do I belong, where do I fit in this global blueprint?
I keep telling myself it is time to move on, maybe Italy. The truth is what I hunt will not be found in Europe or Australia. Africa holds my heart - like a possessive lover, it refuses to let go. I can hear the words "Go home" gently carried across the wind but I am fearful of returning and no longer belonging there.
There are no easy answers to these questions. For now this little lost African will continue to mimic the British ways and hope that one day the spirit Gods will lead me to the place that is home, wherever that may be.
Just shy of a year ago, I was busy packing my bags for a trip of a lifetime into the depths of Africa to visit our nearest relatives, the gorillas. Filled with much trepidation, I was glad for the company of my mate. Honestly I don't think I would have done it without the arm-twisting of my friend.
It did turn out to be a trip of a lifetime, one that made me fall in love with Africa all over again - and subsequently I have been floating around the UK like a lost fart in a perfume factory ever since.
Much has changed in my life since then, with steely determination I am trying to make a go of freelance journalism and am trying to live according to my soul's desires. It isn't easy and at times I feel like throwing in the towel and returning to the stomach-churning world of IT but God-willing I will make my dreams come true. Things are looking up now, so hold thumbs this brief rocky period will soon be over.
Now for the lament...Africa. I miss it intensely but am not sure if I can go back there permanently. Having lived in the UK for so many years, can I still call myself African? People that have never lived abroad may not understand but as I sit here today I am kinda without nationality. I am neither African nor a Brit. Africa changed and so have I. When I speak to people still living in SA, I see this wide gap between their ways and my own. In order to survive in the UK I adapted my ways. I will never be a Brit but there are elements of me that are more Brit then SA. So where do I belong, where do I fit in this global blueprint?
I keep telling myself it is time to move on, maybe Italy. The truth is what I hunt will not be found in Europe or Australia. Africa holds my heart - like a possessive lover, it refuses to let go. I can hear the words "Go home" gently carried across the wind but I am fearful of returning and no longer belonging there.
There are no easy answers to these questions. For now this little lost African will continue to mimic the British ways and hope that one day the spirit Gods will lead me to the place that is home, wherever that may be.
Friday, 3 October 2008
Winter has arrived
Yeah folks - winter has finally arrived. Gone is the sun that held me in its warm embrace when I was in mainland Europe a few months back.....it isn't fair!!!!!!
So it brings up the familiar old song again, what the hell am I doing living in this country? If anyone has a magic wand, please wave it in my direction and send to a warm, picturesque place - preferably one where the dreaded "R", as in recession, is never mentioned.
Seriously the press over here is obsessed with the recession and are driving us into one. Sure the banks have screwed up by taking risks that any sensible human being wouldn't dare touch but if the media wasn't constantly probing around in their affairs; I am sure they would rectify the situation - hint: look to how Africa does business, loopholes are always being exploited there.
Anyway a levelling out was inevitable after a decade of a bull market. Like tectonic plates under pressure, an earthquake is needed to release the superfluous energy and get things back to normal. This is pretty much what is happening in the financial markets right now. We couldn't have kept going with rocketing house prices; and personal and business liability exceeding capital ownership. We were living in a dreamworld.
Of course now the scaremongers among us would have us believe that it is all doom and gloom. As they say if you hear something often enough, you soon start to believe it is true. This is what is happening now. The media keeps telling we are heading towards a recession and like a self-fulfilling prophesy we now are.
If only people would stop listening to the noise and continue to live as normal. Yeah pull in the financial belt a bit and be more sensible with your money (even in optimistic times this is a wise move) but a full clamp down will only exacerbate the situation. This of course is more true for businesses than the man on the street. The world revolves on money - put simply businesses need to make money in order to maintain their staff levels; invest money and of course prop up the banks with financial trading. When the spend stops; companies fold, people lose their jobs and the domino effect happens.
The morale of the story: Well, live a financially responsible life but don't let the economic winter rule your life. Summer will roll around again soon enough, once the markets have stabilised. It may be a bit of a rough ride for now but think about it this way, what it is doing is making us all think about the way we spend our money - this cannot be a bad thing.
Now if only we could be guaranteed of a proper summer in the UK next year, with warm weather and sunshine - it might actually make me reconsider moving from this country but unlike the financial market where we will eventually see summer again; it does seem improbable.
So it brings up the familiar old song again, what the hell am I doing living in this country? If anyone has a magic wand, please wave it in my direction and send to a warm, picturesque place - preferably one where the dreaded "R", as in recession, is never mentioned.
Seriously the press over here is obsessed with the recession and are driving us into one. Sure the banks have screwed up by taking risks that any sensible human being wouldn't dare touch but if the media wasn't constantly probing around in their affairs; I am sure they would rectify the situation - hint: look to how Africa does business, loopholes are always being exploited there.
Anyway a levelling out was inevitable after a decade of a bull market. Like tectonic plates under pressure, an earthquake is needed to release the superfluous energy and get things back to normal. This is pretty much what is happening in the financial markets right now. We couldn't have kept going with rocketing house prices; and personal and business liability exceeding capital ownership. We were living in a dreamworld.
Of course now the scaremongers among us would have us believe that it is all doom and gloom. As they say if you hear something often enough, you soon start to believe it is true. This is what is happening now. The media keeps telling we are heading towards a recession and like a self-fulfilling prophesy we now are.
If only people would stop listening to the noise and continue to live as normal. Yeah pull in the financial belt a bit and be more sensible with your money (even in optimistic times this is a wise move) but a full clamp down will only exacerbate the situation. This of course is more true for businesses than the man on the street. The world revolves on money - put simply businesses need to make money in order to maintain their staff levels; invest money and of course prop up the banks with financial trading. When the spend stops; companies fold, people lose their jobs and the domino effect happens.
The morale of the story: Well, live a financially responsible life but don't let the economic winter rule your life. Summer will roll around again soon enough, once the markets have stabilised. It may be a bit of a rough ride for now but think about it this way, what it is doing is making us all think about the way we spend our money - this cannot be a bad thing.
Now if only we could be guaranteed of a proper summer in the UK next year, with warm weather and sunshine - it might actually make me reconsider moving from this country but unlike the financial market where we will eventually see summer again; it does seem improbable.
Wednesday, 10 September 2008
Big Bang Experiment
I must admit I am slightly disappointed, no make that very disappointed. The media has been abuzz with speculation about the "Big Bang" experiment in Switzerland - it could spell the end of the earth, or at least Switzerland.
Visions of all those chocolate box houses and cows flying through the air flooded my mind as I envisioned our dear Swiss friends being sucked into a man-induced black hole and what happened...nothing. Not even a slight earth tremor.
Granted it would have been quite unpleasant to have a big nothingness parking off in the middle of Europe where Switzerland used to be and I would be upset not to eat Swiss chocolate again, but hey if you are going to spend £5bn on a mega project at least make sure it produces something that the rest of the world can enjoy - after all there is nothing entertaining on TV these days.
But no all those little boffins are dancing around shouting success because they managed to send a proton beam around a tunnel hidden 100m beneath the earth's surface. Really cool dudes, but honestly does the result really justify the cost?
What difference would it make if we understood the Big Bang theory or at least have a definitive answer to the question - what is mass?
It certainly wouldn't put food on the plate of starving children, patch up the hole in the ozone layer or create a cure for cancer. Personally I think the money would be better spent on things that matter today. I am not claiming to be the biggest tree hugger out there, it does annoy me though when I see conglomerates that could make a difference wasting millions on proving inconsequential theories.
Even if they do succeed, what does it actually mean for us lowly plebs? Science textbooks will get updated but life will carry on as normal, none of the important issues facing the world will be resolved. My worse fear is that this experiment might give scientists ideas on how to create new types bombs or weapons. After all, that is what happened when some genius discovered how to split an atom. So I ask yet again, is the cost of this experiment justifiable?
Visions of all those chocolate box houses and cows flying through the air flooded my mind as I envisioned our dear Swiss friends being sucked into a man-induced black hole and what happened...nothing. Not even a slight earth tremor.
Granted it would have been quite unpleasant to have a big nothingness parking off in the middle of Europe where Switzerland used to be and I would be upset not to eat Swiss chocolate again, but hey if you are going to spend £5bn on a mega project at least make sure it produces something that the rest of the world can enjoy - after all there is nothing entertaining on TV these days.
But no all those little boffins are dancing around shouting success because they managed to send a proton beam around a tunnel hidden 100m beneath the earth's surface. Really cool dudes, but honestly does the result really justify the cost?
What difference would it make if we understood the Big Bang theory or at least have a definitive answer to the question - what is mass?
It certainly wouldn't put food on the plate of starving children, patch up the hole in the ozone layer or create a cure for cancer. Personally I think the money would be better spent on things that matter today. I am not claiming to be the biggest tree hugger out there, it does annoy me though when I see conglomerates that could make a difference wasting millions on proving inconsequential theories.
Even if they do succeed, what does it actually mean for us lowly plebs? Science textbooks will get updated but life will carry on as normal, none of the important issues facing the world will be resolved. My worse fear is that this experiment might give scientists ideas on how to create new types bombs or weapons. After all, that is what happened when some genius discovered how to split an atom. So I ask yet again, is the cost of this experiment justifiable?
Friday, 29 August 2008
Following the sun
Hi Folks,
Sorry I’ve been MIA – missing in action to those of you that don’t watch war movies, but I escaped from gloomy old London for a while to bask in the sunshine that smiles over mainland Europe at this time of year. Yup as in summer time, something this miserable little island doesn’t seem to do.
My apologies for whining, but I think that the UK and Ireland have a competition each year to see who can have the wettest, coldest and greyest summer. My only thought is what the hell the prize could be?
I haven’t seen sun for so many years that when I looked in the mirror I actually thought I had caught some strange disease but slowly it dawned on me, “Oh yeah, so this is what I look like with a tan”.
The holiday was absolutely brilliant, my Mom flew over from South Africa and we took a coach trip across Europe. Admittedly it isn’t my first choice when travelling and I was sceptical at first, but it does eliminate the hassle of planning. (Something I have never been very good at.)
I will blog soon about the mini adventures we had; how I fell head over hills in love with Italy; had to be coaxed out of the Sistine Chapel by my mom as I stood mesmerised by the genius of Michelangelo; how I met an Eskimo and some cringingly genuine Afrikaners who made me realise why I left South Africa – and of course write about the beauty that is Europe and her people, but it will take time to round up all my thoughts and remember what happened in which country.
For now I am treasuring my memories of a fantastic trip, made better by sharing it with my mom. The truth is I have realised that I don’t want to live in this cold, dull place anymore. I want the sun to wrap its warm arms around me and for my form to cast a shadow when I walk down the street. I want to feel energised by the heat and then be lulled into a contented calm by the sun sinking beyond the sparkling blue water of the sea – assisted of course by an ice cold chardonnay.
So instead of yearning for this fantasy I have decided that it is time to move on yet again. I have my writing obligations but they are possible to fulfil from any geographical location and I am also considering doing a TEFL course to supplement my income. Oh yeah, it is official I am totally out of IT – yippee!
My current consternation is where to live. Italy keeps popping up in my mind, preferably the Riviera. It could be one hell of an adventure after all I don’t speak the language and for some unknown reason every time I try, German slips out of my mouth. I know very little about the country except for Milan being a shoe-aholic heaven and the bureaucracy is very confusing.
This time though I am not going to just toy with the idea of moving – I can hear my friends laughing at me singing an old familiar song. I am determined to get out of Dodge so I have set myself a goal. This time next year I will have settled into a warmer life; sipping a chardonnay while watching the sun set over the ocean – preferably with a tall, dark handsome man. I will chuckle quietly to myself as I think of my poor friends back in the UK cursing yet another dull, drizzly day and thank my lucky stars for being able to live in a such beautiful place.
Sorry I’ve been MIA – missing in action to those of you that don’t watch war movies, but I escaped from gloomy old London for a while to bask in the sunshine that smiles over mainland Europe at this time of year. Yup as in summer time, something this miserable little island doesn’t seem to do.
My apologies for whining, but I think that the UK and Ireland have a competition each year to see who can have the wettest, coldest and greyest summer. My only thought is what the hell the prize could be?
I haven’t seen sun for so many years that when I looked in the mirror I actually thought I had caught some strange disease but slowly it dawned on me, “Oh yeah, so this is what I look like with a tan”.
The holiday was absolutely brilliant, my Mom flew over from South Africa and we took a coach trip across Europe. Admittedly it isn’t my first choice when travelling and I was sceptical at first, but it does eliminate the hassle of planning. (Something I have never been very good at.)
I will blog soon about the mini adventures we had; how I fell head over hills in love with Italy; had to be coaxed out of the Sistine Chapel by my mom as I stood mesmerised by the genius of Michelangelo; how I met an Eskimo and some cringingly genuine Afrikaners who made me realise why I left South Africa – and of course write about the beauty that is Europe and her people, but it will take time to round up all my thoughts and remember what happened in which country.
For now I am treasuring my memories of a fantastic trip, made better by sharing it with my mom. The truth is I have realised that I don’t want to live in this cold, dull place anymore. I want the sun to wrap its warm arms around me and for my form to cast a shadow when I walk down the street. I want to feel energised by the heat and then be lulled into a contented calm by the sun sinking beyond the sparkling blue water of the sea – assisted of course by an ice cold chardonnay.
So instead of yearning for this fantasy I have decided that it is time to move on yet again. I have my writing obligations but they are possible to fulfil from any geographical location and I am also considering doing a TEFL course to supplement my income. Oh yeah, it is official I am totally out of IT – yippee!
My current consternation is where to live. Italy keeps popping up in my mind, preferably the Riviera. It could be one hell of an adventure after all I don’t speak the language and for some unknown reason every time I try, German slips out of my mouth. I know very little about the country except for Milan being a shoe-aholic heaven and the bureaucracy is very confusing.
This time though I am not going to just toy with the idea of moving – I can hear my friends laughing at me singing an old familiar song. I am determined to get out of Dodge so I have set myself a goal. This time next year I will have settled into a warmer life; sipping a chardonnay while watching the sun set over the ocean – preferably with a tall, dark handsome man. I will chuckle quietly to myself as I think of my poor friends back in the UK cursing yet another dull, drizzly day and thank my lucky stars for being able to live in a such beautiful place.
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
The secret's out
Pop open that bottle of champagne!
I have finally finished both my short story, and an article I was writing for a magazine. I feel totally relieved at completing both of them, and incredibly happy that the editor seems pleased with my article submission. (Sorry had to brag)
Shew, I can start being sociable again. It has been nearly two weeks since I went out and had some silliness with my mates. I've practically forgotten that there was a world outside the four walls of my flat.
I am pretty chuffed with myself though, the short story was really difficult to write. To summarise it is loosely based on the life of someone who escaped to South Africa, only to get caught up in the xenophobic madness that happened a while back. Apart from being the first fictional story I have written, it was emotionally draining at times. I actually couldn't sleep after writing a particularly disturbing scene but I am back. Happy, bouncy and looking for an adventure - and strangely enough eager to write more stories. My mind is racing with ideas and my fingers itching to type.
No one warns you that writing is incredibly addictive. It is though. It is like having an secret affair. You drop off the face of the earth for a few hours, or days and disappear into a fantasy world of your own creation. Your mind can race freely and rules of the common man no longer exist. Afterwards you are in a state of bliss and no one can understand why.
My dilemma now is whether to turn the story into a book, it cries out for more details, descriptions of the land and for character development - or to write another story which has been buzzing around in my head for a while. Perhaps I'll write a steamy romance novel, or a book about the life of a 30-something girl (trust me that can be very amusing at times). I don't know, I think that I'll just sit down quietly at my PC and let my mind wander back into fantasy land. One things for certain, this is one affair I don't intend ending.
I have finally finished both my short story, and an article I was writing for a magazine. I feel totally relieved at completing both of them, and incredibly happy that the editor seems pleased with my article submission. (Sorry had to brag)
Shew, I can start being sociable again. It has been nearly two weeks since I went out and had some silliness with my mates. I've practically forgotten that there was a world outside the four walls of my flat.
I am pretty chuffed with myself though, the short story was really difficult to write. To summarise it is loosely based on the life of someone who escaped to South Africa, only to get caught up in the xenophobic madness that happened a while back. Apart from being the first fictional story I have written, it was emotionally draining at times. I actually couldn't sleep after writing a particularly disturbing scene but I am back. Happy, bouncy and looking for an adventure - and strangely enough eager to write more stories. My mind is racing with ideas and my fingers itching to type.
No one warns you that writing is incredibly addictive. It is though. It is like having an secret affair. You drop off the face of the earth for a few hours, or days and disappear into a fantasy world of your own creation. Your mind can race freely and rules of the common man no longer exist. Afterwards you are in a state of bliss and no one can understand why.
My dilemma now is whether to turn the story into a book, it cries out for more details, descriptions of the land and for character development - or to write another story which has been buzzing around in my head for a while. Perhaps I'll write a steamy romance novel, or a book about the life of a 30-something girl (trust me that can be very amusing at times). I don't know, I think that I'll just sit down quietly at my PC and let my mind wander back into fantasy land. One things for certain, this is one affair I don't intend ending.
Friday, 13 June 2008
All boozed out
I think my liver hates me. It wasn't my fault honest, how was I to know that I was drinking from the glass of eternal wine. Hmmm.... it could also have something to do with a week of farewells and reunions.
It started off quite innocently last Friday night. As usual I was lounging around in my old tracksuit pondering the meaning of life when Miss C suggested I join her and a couple of mates for drinks in Hammersmith. Not wanting to be anti-social I quickly threw on the glad rags and war paint, and dashed for the tube not wanting to miss happy hour.
It all started to go downhill when my old work crowd started to pour into the bar. I knew I was in trouble the minute my old partner in crime entered and shouted "Scampi!" giving me the biggest hug ever. (And no I am not going to explain why he calls me Scampi.)
The evening passed by in a blur of champagne and much silliness, including my mates trying to pull a guy on my behalf - nice try guys! We were reliving the good ol' days and it was brilliant!
Lured by the promise of food the next morning, I ignored the marching band that had taken up residence in my head and bravely ventured out to my mates place. Two cups of espresso, one sausage roll later I was back in action ready for farewell party number 1.
Last night was the last of the farewells (for this month anyway) - it was tame in comparison to some of the parties we have had but the booze did flow steadily. Oh and thanks to the guys for leaving the image of them dressed in women's clothes and high heels imprinted on my mind forever!
Having woken up with another hangover this morning I have decided to give up the booze. I seriously need to do some work and I am unable to write anything when my brain is mush. So I intend going into hermit mode and letting my liver heal.
Well - until next week anyway.
It started off quite innocently last Friday night. As usual I was lounging around in my old tracksuit pondering the meaning of life when Miss C suggested I join her and a couple of mates for drinks in Hammersmith. Not wanting to be anti-social I quickly threw on the glad rags and war paint, and dashed for the tube not wanting to miss happy hour.
It all started to go downhill when my old work crowd started to pour into the bar. I knew I was in trouble the minute my old partner in crime entered and shouted "Scampi!" giving me the biggest hug ever. (And no I am not going to explain why he calls me Scampi.)
The evening passed by in a blur of champagne and much silliness, including my mates trying to pull a guy on my behalf - nice try guys! We were reliving the good ol' days and it was brilliant!
Lured by the promise of food the next morning, I ignored the marching band that had taken up residence in my head and bravely ventured out to my mates place. Two cups of espresso, one sausage roll later I was back in action ready for farewell party number 1.
Last night was the last of the farewells (for this month anyway) - it was tame in comparison to some of the parties we have had but the booze did flow steadily. Oh and thanks to the guys for leaving the image of them dressed in women's clothes and high heels imprinted on my mind forever!
Having woken up with another hangover this morning I have decided to give up the booze. I seriously need to do some work and I am unable to write anything when my brain is mush. So I intend going into hermit mode and letting my liver heal.
Well - until next week anyway.
Wednesday, 4 June 2008
The Global Village
Have you ever noticed how dependent we've become on the Internet?
Remember the days when we used to communicate with loved ones in far away places by snail mail and the occasional expensive telephone call. I used to love getting letters from my friends in the States or in different cities around South Africa. Times have changed.
Just yesterday I spent most of the day "chatting" online to my mates. It is amazing - they are scattered around the world and yet I can have proper conversations with them without having to wait for the postman. There is no excuse for losing touch with people anymore.
Facebook has enabled us to get in contact with people from our past lives. People long forgotten from primary school to old work colleagues. Of course the great thing is that you don't actually need to have a proper conversation with them - a poke every now and then will suffice.
Some of my friends have had affairs that began online. One of whom ended up marrying the guy. The Internet has provided us with the perfect excuse for never having to leaving the house and actually physically interacting with people. I know people whose entire social life is based on Internet communities.
The Internet has allowed the world to become a truly global village.
As grateful as I am for being able to talk to my friends and family far away, I still feel a yearning for the good ol' days. We can chat to one another at a push of a button and yet people are more isolated then ever before. We have become a village of single entities - each absorbed in their own little worlds. A global village in name only.
Remember receiving a call from a friend in distress and rushing over to comfort them? Remember dropping in at a friend's place for a cup of tea and a good chat? Remember families having dinners together and not in front of the TV? Kids nowadays rush through their food and then lock themselves away in their rooms to chat to their mates online, while the parents return to their computers to continue working.
Have we forgotten how to experience real life instead of just observing it through a television screen or on the Internet?
Remember the days when we used to communicate with loved ones in far away places by snail mail and the occasional expensive telephone call. I used to love getting letters from my friends in the States or in different cities around South Africa. Times have changed.
Just yesterday I spent most of the day "chatting" online to my mates. It is amazing - they are scattered around the world and yet I can have proper conversations with them without having to wait for the postman. There is no excuse for losing touch with people anymore.
Facebook has enabled us to get in contact with people from our past lives. People long forgotten from primary school to old work colleagues. Of course the great thing is that you don't actually need to have a proper conversation with them - a poke every now and then will suffice.
Some of my friends have had affairs that began online. One of whom ended up marrying the guy. The Internet has provided us with the perfect excuse for never having to leaving the house and actually physically interacting with people. I know people whose entire social life is based on Internet communities.
The Internet has allowed the world to become a truly global village.
As grateful as I am for being able to talk to my friends and family far away, I still feel a yearning for the good ol' days. We can chat to one another at a push of a button and yet people are more isolated then ever before. We have become a village of single entities - each absorbed in their own little worlds. A global village in name only.
Remember receiving a call from a friend in distress and rushing over to comfort them? Remember dropping in at a friend's place for a cup of tea and a good chat? Remember families having dinners together and not in front of the TV? Kids nowadays rush through their food and then lock themselves away in their rooms to chat to their mates online, while the parents return to their computers to continue working.
Have we forgotten how to experience real life instead of just observing it through a television screen or on the Internet?
Wednesday, 28 May 2008
Ramblings of a Procrastinating Writer
I know I should be working today, but to be honest, I just can't be bothered. I am perfecting the art of procrastination and trust me that isn't easy to do.
So far I have managed to spring clean my flat, talk to Alfred (my pot plant), stare out of the window and contemplate whether we will actually have summer this year. I've done the washing and danced around the flat like a lunatic, listening to Pink. I am running out of things to do, and I can feel the guilt sweep over me like a dark cloud but I don't want to give in to it.
Guilt, the sign of a Catholic upbringing. Why is it us ex-Catholics are still bound by the chains of guilt? We are really quite a pathetic lot, almost apologetic for our mere existence. Where others live quite happy, we feel guilty for living our lives the way we want to and not the way others expect us to. We feel guilty for our contribution to global warning, starving Africans and for taking time out from work for a little "me" time. It is so crazy, as soon as the guilt seeps into our psyches we imagine God standing and waving his finger at us as if we were naughty school children.
OK I give up - the guilt is too great. I'll put on some calming music, be a good girl and write my article. Damn I hate being a good girl.
So far I have managed to spring clean my flat, talk to Alfred (my pot plant), stare out of the window and contemplate whether we will actually have summer this year. I've done the washing and danced around the flat like a lunatic, listening to Pink. I am running out of things to do, and I can feel the guilt sweep over me like a dark cloud but I don't want to give in to it.
Guilt, the sign of a Catholic upbringing. Why is it us ex-Catholics are still bound by the chains of guilt? We are really quite a pathetic lot, almost apologetic for our mere existence. Where others live quite happy, we feel guilty for living our lives the way we want to and not the way others expect us to. We feel guilty for our contribution to global warning, starving Africans and for taking time out from work for a little "me" time. It is so crazy, as soon as the guilt seeps into our psyches we imagine God standing and waving his finger at us as if we were naughty school children.
OK I give up - the guilt is too great. I'll put on some calming music, be a good girl and write my article. Damn I hate being a good girl.
Friday, 23 May 2008
The real South Africa
My blood is boiling right now. I've been following the story on the xenophobia in SA, and it looks like our little rainbow nation is dissipating. The truth is trouble has been brewing for quite sometime, and now that the foreign immigrants are being attacked, beaten and necklaced the International Press is suddenly interested.
What really gets me is that South Africa is showing signs of going the same way as every other African State, look at Zimbabwe, Kenya, Rwanda and the Congo to name a few. OK so in those countries the violence was inter-tribal and about gaining power over each other, but it amounts to the same thing. Are the people of Africa just blood-thirsty barbarians?
Watching the latest outbreak of violence unfold and hearing that the army has been sent in to sort it out has stirred up long forgotten memories. I grew up in South Africa and throughout my childhood, I felt safe. The army protected us from the insurgents. I remember standing in my classroom watching the army casspirs and buffels patrolling the school perimeter when the rebels had threatened to bomb our schools. I remember the State of Emergency being instated and curfews being imposed on us, but still I felt safe. The army protected us.
The media was controlled by the government so we never really understood the magnitude of the situation. It was only towards the end of 80's and the beginning of the downfall of the National Party that we started learning the truth. The violence in the townships shocked us, seeing the news coverage of black people being necklaced, murdered and beaten by both black people and the police. I used to fall asleep at night listening to the rally of gunfire across the valley.
The '94 election was presented to the world as the beginning of a era for South Africa, a period of peace. The truth is most of us whities were very nervous. Many fled the country and those of us that stayed behind weren't quite sure what to expect. This is Africa after all, there has never been a peaceful transition of power in any African State. Bravely we queued to cast our vote, hoping the chanting of 'One bullet, one boer' wouldn't come true.
It was a bit anti-climatic, there was no fallout after the election. FW de Klerk and Mandela shared power and there was relative peace. We just went back to living our lives with little change. Once the coalition broke, violence and crime intensified. Horrific stories emerged of hijackings, rape and robberies, murders and the worst of all - the kidnapping and rape of babies, encouraged by witch doctors claiming that it will cure Aids.
Living in Johannesburg became great fun. We got to run red traffic lights at night, every second person carried a gun. The best was coming home inebriated and being able to sober up in seconds as you never knew whether you would become another statistic the minute you entered the front door. No matter how much security you had, if the criminals wanted to break in, they would. Unlike the civilized world, if you disturbed an intruder you were bound to meet your end and it probably wouldn't be swift.
So like many others that lost hope in the Rainbow Nation, I fled looking for a place where I could feel safe again. I spend many sleepless nights worrying about my family back home, South Africa has become more corrupt and the crimes more heinous.
What really gets me is that South Africa is showing signs of going the same way as every other African State, look at Zimbabwe, Kenya, Rwanda and the Congo to name a few. OK so in those countries the violence was inter-tribal and about gaining power over each other, but it amounts to the same thing. Are the people of Africa just blood-thirsty barbarians?
Watching the latest outbreak of violence unfold and hearing that the army has been sent in to sort it out has stirred up long forgotten memories. I grew up in South Africa and throughout my childhood, I felt safe. The army protected us from the insurgents. I remember standing in my classroom watching the army casspirs and buffels patrolling the school perimeter when the rebels had threatened to bomb our schools. I remember the State of Emergency being instated and curfews being imposed on us, but still I felt safe. The army protected us.
The media was controlled by the government so we never really understood the magnitude of the situation. It was only towards the end of 80's and the beginning of the downfall of the National Party that we started learning the truth. The violence in the townships shocked us, seeing the news coverage of black people being necklaced, murdered and beaten by both black people and the police. I used to fall asleep at night listening to the rally of gunfire across the valley.
The '94 election was presented to the world as the beginning of a era for South Africa, a period of peace. The truth is most of us whities were very nervous. Many fled the country and those of us that stayed behind weren't quite sure what to expect. This is Africa after all, there has never been a peaceful transition of power in any African State. Bravely we queued to cast our vote, hoping the chanting of 'One bullet, one boer' wouldn't come true.
It was a bit anti-climatic, there was no fallout after the election. FW de Klerk and Mandela shared power and there was relative peace. We just went back to living our lives with little change. Once the coalition broke, violence and crime intensified. Horrific stories emerged of hijackings, rape and robberies, murders and the worst of all - the kidnapping and rape of babies, encouraged by witch doctors claiming that it will cure Aids.
Living in Johannesburg became great fun. We got to run red traffic lights at night, every second person carried a gun. The best was coming home inebriated and being able to sober up in seconds as you never knew whether you would become another statistic the minute you entered the front door. No matter how much security you had, if the criminals wanted to break in, they would. Unlike the civilized world, if you disturbed an intruder you were bound to meet your end and it probably wouldn't be swift.
So like many others that lost hope in the Rainbow Nation, I fled looking for a place where I could feel safe again. I spend many sleepless nights worrying about my family back home, South Africa has become more corrupt and the crimes more heinous.
The latest outbreak of violence isn't a surprise. South Africa is a violent country, just like every other African country. People don't value life. You can be murdered for a mobile phone and the murderer will feel no remorse. People abroad ask me why Africans are so violent and the truth is I don't know. I want to believe that there is good in everyone, but how can I when I see the senseless killings on the streets of South Africa? I just wish that the illusion I had as a child of a safe South Africa will eventually become a reality, but I have little hope that it will.
Monday, 12 May 2008
My first serious commitment
I confess I have a big problem. I am commitment phobic.
Yes folks you heard it here first - although I doubt that it is much of a secret.
Since I have quit my job to lead a hedonistic lifestyle, I have spent a few moments pondering my life - past, present and future and it turns out that I am incredibly commitment phobic, here are some my symptoms:
- I cannot stay in a job for very long, the longest was 18 months.
- The idea of a permanent job makes me break out in hives.
- In my dating life, I run for the hills as soon as the guy wants to get serious.
- I rent instead of own my flat.
- During the course of my adult life I have lived in 3 countries and am considering moving on again.
After this little revelation I decided to do something about it. I am not getting any younger and I need to work on at least being able to hold down a job. No stuff that, oooh perhaps a man? That one would definitely be easier.
Anyway back to my game plan. I figured that I need to have someone or something in my life that I am responsible for. It had to be a living creature. I thought about getting a puppy but they tend to poop and need feeding, plus not a good idea when you live in a flat with no garden. So after much deliberation I decided to get a plant, at least if it died I wouldn't feel too guilty.
Off I went to the flower shop. I wandered around for a good 20 minutes unable to find my perfect little plant soul mate. Eventually I saw him. Absolutely gorgeous, petite, petals as white as snow. I grabbed him quickly and rushed to the salesdesk. Two minutes later I was the proud owner of a...well at that stage I didn't know what he was. (It turns out that he is a Japanese Peace Lilly)
Needless to say I was overjoyed and made sure that he had the best, sunniest spot in the flat.
Alfred, yes that is his name, and I have a wonderful relationship. We talk everyday and he is even starting to get new buds. Maybe this commitment thing isn't too difficult after all. I reckon that if I haven't killed Alfred by the end of the month, there may be hope for me yet.
Alfred
Thursday, 8 May 2008
Picnicking at the Police Station
You see it all started when my friend, Ms. C, lost her passport yet again. Apparently they tend to evaporate into thin air when left lying around her flat for long periods of time....but I digress.
7pm last night I get the call, "Yo dudette, wanna go for a drink?"
Lying lazily on the sofa, willing myself to get up and forage for food in my barren kitchen, the offer is tempting.
"I've got to go to the Police Station first and report my passport lost"
hmmm...cute men in uniform - I'm starting to like this idea
"We can go for a drink afterwards"
OK sold, what single woman can resist the offer of cute men and booze.
Hunger forgotten, I throw on the face paint and make a mad dash for the door.
40 minutes later, we enter the cop shop and the giggles start as the first tall dark handsome man walks past us. Oh boy, this could be entertaining.
There is only one cop on duty so we settle down in reception area and wait our turn.
Suddenly this woman rushes in, looking agitated and quite distressed. She starts rambling on about being assaulted. Not quite sure what to do with this information, Ms. C and I look at each other and Ms. C kindly suggests she go ahead of her as she only needs to report her lost passport. The woman shouts "Oh well you sort out your passport, I'll go have a drink" and storms out.
Slightly confused, we start chatting to another girl sitting quietly in the corner.
"Well I'm only here to hand in some keys" lifting up this huge bundle of keys.
We all just pack out laughing.
Just as the cop comes out to call the next person, mad woman returns. She starts rambling on telling the cop a completely different story. Key Girl, Ms. C and I exchange puzzled glances. Key Girl practically throws the keys at the cop and makes a hasty retreat to the safety of the streets. It's just Ms. C, the cop, Mad Woman and me now. We tell him to sort her out first and sit back down in the reception area.
Hunger has set in but Ms. C is always prepared for such occasions. Out comes the nuts and cookies which look suspiciously like dagga cookies.
"Umm.. Ms. C I kinda don't feel like getting arrested now."
Of course the giggles start once again and we settle down to our picnic.
The cop looks on curiously through the glass partition, I'm taking a wild guess here but I think that he isn't used to seeing two girls laughing and chowing down in the reception area of his station.
I can hear Mad Woman shouting at the cop, I turn to look. The poor lad looks like he needs some help. My maternal instincts kick in and I want to go save him but that would probably be bad for his ego. One more screech from Mad Woman and she charges to the door of the police station. Ms. C. helps her open it and Mad Woman flees.
Finally our turn, Ms. C gets the report filled out and flirts with the cop. Apparently he was going to get Mad Woman sectioned. None of us mentioned that Ms. C aided and abetted her escape. We slink sheepishly from the station in the direction of alcohol and in search of another adventure...
7pm last night I get the call, "Yo dudette, wanna go for a drink?"
Lying lazily on the sofa, willing myself to get up and forage for food in my barren kitchen, the offer is tempting.
"I've got to go to the Police Station first and report my passport lost"
hmmm...cute men in uniform - I'm starting to like this idea
"We can go for a drink afterwards"
OK sold, what single woman can resist the offer of cute men and booze.
Hunger forgotten, I throw on the face paint and make a mad dash for the door.
40 minutes later, we enter the cop shop and the giggles start as the first tall dark handsome man walks past us. Oh boy, this could be entertaining.
There is only one cop on duty so we settle down in reception area and wait our turn.
Suddenly this woman rushes in, looking agitated and quite distressed. She starts rambling on about being assaulted. Not quite sure what to do with this information, Ms. C and I look at each other and Ms. C kindly suggests she go ahead of her as she only needs to report her lost passport. The woman shouts "Oh well you sort out your passport, I'll go have a drink" and storms out.
Slightly confused, we start chatting to another girl sitting quietly in the corner.
"Well I'm only here to hand in some keys" lifting up this huge bundle of keys.
We all just pack out laughing.
Just as the cop comes out to call the next person, mad woman returns. She starts rambling on telling the cop a completely different story. Key Girl, Ms. C and I exchange puzzled glances. Key Girl practically throws the keys at the cop and makes a hasty retreat to the safety of the streets. It's just Ms. C, the cop, Mad Woman and me now. We tell him to sort her out first and sit back down in the reception area.
Hunger has set in but Ms. C is always prepared for such occasions. Out comes the nuts and cookies which look suspiciously like dagga cookies.
"Umm.. Ms. C I kinda don't feel like getting arrested now."
Of course the giggles start once again and we settle down to our picnic.
The cop looks on curiously through the glass partition, I'm taking a wild guess here but I think that he isn't used to seeing two girls laughing and chowing down in the reception area of his station.
I can hear Mad Woman shouting at the cop, I turn to look. The poor lad looks like he needs some help. My maternal instincts kick in and I want to go save him but that would probably be bad for his ego. One more screech from Mad Woman and she charges to the door of the police station. Ms. C. helps her open it and Mad Woman flees.
Finally our turn, Ms. C gets the report filled out and flirts with the cop. Apparently he was going to get Mad Woman sectioned. None of us mentioned that Ms. C aided and abetted her escape. We slink sheepishly from the station in the direction of alcohol and in search of another adventure...
Wednesday, 7 May 2008
Oops I've done it again
Oh geez how on earth do I tell my family that I have quit another job?
This time I lasted all of 3 months before throwing in the towel. This is definitely a new record for me. I have gone into hiding and right now my family back home are blissfully unaware that I have given up my contract and am not even looking for more work. I just don't feel like hearing the disappointment in their voices and being persuaded to "get back on the horse".
I just don't like what I do for a living, it just isn't who I am. I have been consulting in IT for 10 years and am so tired of the same old arguments, trying to meet unrealistic deadlines and well, pretending to give a damn. You see there is no such thing as a smooth running project.
IT is no longer fun - it has become a business run by power hungry individuals who are only in it for themselves. I remember the good old days when no one outside of IT knew what we did. We had a kind of freedom, as the rest of the world tended to steer clear of us geeks. Now everything is about structure, setting deadlines, working crazy hours and playing politics. It has become just another business.
So I am rebelling. I intend on exploring my creative side and living my life.
As for telling my family, I'll send them a postcard from some exotic island.
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