neoscribe

new home for my blog

2010-11-27T17:09:00.002+02:00

Hi I moved my blog over to http://www.neoscribes.posterous.com/

old woman at my building

2010-08-19T13:29:00.002+02:00

Wednesday night is fast replacing Thursday, Sunday and Monday as the day when some of the most random things happen to me in Cape Town.

This week was not different. While on my way back home from getting something to eat, I jumped out of the lift to be greeted by this old lady with no teeth. This old woman, let us call her Merriam (“emphasis on the a”) because that is her name.

She had a pan in her hand which she covered with a pillow case. The explanations was that she was looking for an African lady who had just moved in and the stuff was a gift. At this stage I am literally two doors from my place and I really want to dart for my door because it is rather dark and I do not trust an old woman with a pan in her hand after dark. Call me ageist if you like but anyway.

So this lady, Merriam, ignore the disinterested look on my face and launches into a history lesson about her. You see you can see Table Mountain from where we are sitting and this lady shows me a street near the top of the hill and says that is where she grew up to Jewish parents. At this point my knees are freezing because I am wearing a dress that barely covers anything really and yet, out of politeness or stupidity I am still listening to this old lady.

She jumps from one subject (her son in London) to another (our landlord, religion, food, war) with the kind of ease that only a demented person can muster.

And you know what, as I lose feeling in my toes and knees, I am starting to like this toothless old lady. Because I know that if I ever live past 50 without jumping off a building I might be her. Well not exactly but you know what I mean.

Eventually she lets me go and promises to bring me some soup and bake me some rock hard scones and off she goes disappearing towards the lift looking for her African woman at 9pm in the evening. Only in Cape Town?

I have just nominated myself

2010-08-10T15:21:00.001+02:00

i think we have an ego issue :)

hiking in the bundus

2010-07-31T16:14:00.000+02:00

So one day I was really itching to go on the quad bike with the research assistant at the NGO I was working at. You see part of his job was to go up the hills in the quad bike to go and map up a few plots and check up on progress. So he had a really cool job because he was clever enough to study conservation while I was wallowing away in journalism school.

Anyway, so one day when it was not that busy in the office, I offered to go help the eco warrior with his research up up on the hills. It is only not that I realise how crazy that was. But I wanted to drive a quad bike up and down the hill, so off we went.
Now, please take a moment to look at the picture I have posted with this post and you will realise how high up we were. And you know how when you are driving past the hills and they look very green and the grass looks like it is up to your knee? Well it is not. Nearly 10 minutes into the climb I was panting, exhausted and really tired of having to fight off the long grass off my face. It really did not help that eco-warrior kept telling me about the snakes that he sometimes came across.

I regretted the hike terribly. And my legs, oh my poor legs were so sore. But eco warrior was hiking like he is just taking a stroll to the corner store while I was panting like those people on “the biggest looser.” Three hours later we were done. I had climbed steep hills, jumped over streams and just generally put my body through the most excruciating exercise regime I have had in my whole entire life.

Please look at the picture again and notice my smile. It was completely fake. I was just smiling at the camera. Deep down my body was going “death is better!” given the chance I would probably do it again but this time I would stick to driving up and down on the bike while eco-warrior does all the hiking.

break...

2010-07-27T11:06:00.000+02:00

http://tinyurl.com/2wcpn5f

I have been a bit lazy to blog these days. Not because I do not have the time. But actually because I have too much time. Too many opinions. But sadly not enough words with which to express them. So I choose not to write.

baGhana Baghandisgusting

2010-07-03T14:32:00.000+02:00

http://tinyurl.com/3yhym5b

So my beloved South Africans are so caught up in all this world Cup madness that it seems that amnesia is turning out to be one of the side effect.

a little bit of background if I may: South Africa is hosting the 2010 Fifa soccer World Cup which is ending on July 11. So for the past three weeks we have had days of drinking, hugging, kissing and just behaving like we are a festival somewhere in the bush, even though we are in the middle of Cape Town.
The tourists are here, so we are being gracious hosts and since we do not speak much Swahili, Portuguese, Dutch, French etc drinking and screaming loudly seems to be working quite well for our international relations.

http://tinyurl.com/3axc23u

So everyone is happy and we have even brushed the xenophobia under the carpet and are calling the Ghana team, baGhana baGhana, now. You see our South African team, Bafana Bafana, bombed out in the first round so it seems we have adopted Ghana as our own, for now

This is in Stark contrast with what people have been saying in the city though. We (the media) have received reports that xenophobia violence is going to start all over again after the World Cup.

So you can see my confusion, and that of my fellow colleagues. Because on the one hand we all love each each other and on the other hand we are threatening other Africans with violence.

All the genuine and false comradie is mixed into a little cocktail glass provided by Fifa.

So now that Ghana is out of the World Cup, we love or hate them again, depending on how well your bank balance looks.

South Africa is a very Schizophrenic country. it seems.

NYT pics :oil

2010-06-05T14:11:00.000+02:00

As you may already know, there was a disaster oil spill off the coast of Louisiana (i think) and BP has been trying to do damage control for days. The oil is still spilling out of the bowels of the sea and oiled birds and fishes are washing up all over the coast. It is an environmental disaster. makes one remember that as much as you want ot help, sometimes you cant. So i was going through the pictures section of TIME magazine. http://www.time.com/ and found a few catoons that they put up at the time of the oil spill. I keel these two sum up how i felt about the oil spill at the time...

There is a fake BP account starte by what i assume to be environmentalist. it is worth following ;) http://twitter.com/BPGlobalPR

Mr seventies80s

2010-05-21T17:47:00.000+02:00

I was doing a story with my friend Wendyl. Since Wendyl is such a brillant writer and interviewer, I decided that I would play "annoying girl with camera" at the seventies80s store. So while Wendyl and Dawie were busy, I was snapping away.

Our piece was about urban Youth Culture and young people who are a part of it and some of the spin offs from it like fashion and hang out spots and what not.

Fifi

2010-05-21T17:22:00.000+02:00

Fifi is a musician from Pretoria. She performed in Cape Town recently and although i was a little bit out of it (damn alcohol) I managed to get some pretty decent shots of her. I love her voice. Wish i knew more about her.

How hot is that dress. it was so cute. It had buttons on the side, multicoloured ones. Pretoria girls have style ;)

annoying girl/guy with camera

2010-05-21T17:09:00.000+02:00

Once upon a time not long ago I was obsessed with taking pictures. I had a cheap little digicam that I got while I was on holiday in Hermanus and I just snapped away at everything. This made sense when I lived in the middle of nowhere because all the things I was seeing there were just so bizarre. There were baboons in the middle of the road, and sometimes a father and son team would get into their bakkie and chase them off the road with their AK47.

There were also endless white beaches filled with shells and sometimes, during whale season, I could spot a few whales going about their business in the deep blue sea.

So when I eventually left my precious bundus (Aniston, Bredasdorp and Gansbaai ) I was back in civilized Cape Town. But I had picked up this annoying habit of taking pictures of everything. So when I went out with friends I would take the pictures of food. Just in case they found that a little weird I would take pictures of their food as well. And if they promised not to grin at me, I snapped them as well.

This behavior carried on in the train. I would take a pictures of the sunrise, sunset, Table Mountain at dawn and just random people going about their business on the train or in areas around the train. I was like an annoying little tourist in my own country. In my defence I will say that I never used the train until I moved to Cape Town and the whole thing is just fascinating.

When the weekend rolled back into town it was off to Long street and I would still be taking pictures of everything. I could justify the performers in my pictures but never could quite understand why I had car guards and drunken people in my pictures.

But slowly I got over this habit or perhaps it was because I realised that I had no use for most of the pictures I was taking. Because there are only so many pictures of my friends and I laughing like crazy hyenas that I can load on facebook before it all got boring and monotonous.

But wait there is a point to this rant...

http://www.gooya.us/photos/2007/10/30/girl-iran-camera.jpg

You see as much as I love to take pictures of all things bright and not-so-beautiful, I hate having my picture taken. And this week I was confronted with a group of consistent snappers. Like a hypocrite I was so annoyed and I made my annoyance felt. But deep down in my heart I knew that I was once that annoying girl with a camera. So to an extent I felt why they had a need to fill their camera up with pictures of people sitting around in the cold, drinking, smoking like they don't have work in a few hours (it was wayyy after midnight). What I really wanted to do was explain to them how stupid they are going to feel a year or so from now thinking back to a night where they were annoying people with a tiny little digicam instead of sitting down and drinking their wine like the rest of the people gathered there.

first month in the newsroom

2010-05-21T17:04:00.000+02:00

http://www.old-picture.com/american-legacy/001/Newsroom-1920s-the-of.htm

I know that the month is not over yet. There is still another week to go but when have I ever let a small thing like fact get in the way of me having an unoriginal headline for my blog entry?
Any I will start off my saying that I have been having an awesome time. I think I love working for a weekend title (Weekend Argus in Cape Town) and I think this was the right placement for me.
Walking into the newsroom is like a big hall with journalists/editors/subeditors typing away like a human sweat shop that produces news. There are no cubicles so have people in your face all the time. So if you wake up in a bad mood or your boyfriend pisses you off on the phone, you have absolutely no privacy. So you kinda have to suck it up and get on with it or go cry in the bathroom or something. You know? This is not a place for sissy little girls or boys.
That whole paragraph was a little misleading but that was how it felt on the first day. Gradually I have gotten used to the newsroom and I quite enjoy it now.
I work with a very small team and I sit right behind the news editor. His name is Ryan and he has a really deep voice. His voice reminds me of James Earl Jones in that movie “Cry the beloved Country.” But besides that he is not that scary, he is very patient with me and helps me a lot with my stories. So my first week there I got a story that I have been working on with Wendyl and Ayanda on the front page of the Weekend Lifestyle Section. If you have been reading this blog, you would know that Wendyl, Ayanda and I formed a bad-ass group called News-Hacks while we were still in the cadet school. And towards the end of our days at the Cadet School, we spend many late night working on our story. We didn’t leave the office until 10 or sometimes 11pm. We checked and re-cheked and edited and fought over what should go where. And when all else failed we went to Mojito’s with the other cadets for happy Hour and then got back to work.
So front page of the Lifestyle section was not bad at all. I am very pround of the News-Hacks and wish my teammates were in Durban, so we could do more front page stories.
I am loving the Weekend as I get to write longer. And for someone like me who likes to talk too much, this means a lot because I can now talk less and write more.

message from Zoe to bloggers :)

2010-05-06T14:27:00.002+02:00

http://zoeclaudia.tumblr.com/post/568508631

Front page news..

2010-05-04T13:07:00.000+02:00

Yesterday was my first day in the newsroom and it started off with a bang. I think journalism is the only field where you get none of that "settle in and get to know the company" nonsense. While other people are busy twiddling their thumbs reading manuals that tell you not to sleep with the boss or abuse company email, I was already out on my first story. I was shadowing one of the senior journalist and she was so cool.

Then later i got a chance to do another story. but you know, it is my first day and all. What are the chances of that story landing up in the newspaper?

Well, I got to work this morning to my smiling news editor telling me that my story was ON THE FRONT PAGE.

I was so excited. And now i am looking at my name on the front page of the Cape Argus and it validates every decision I have made to get here so far.

I was born to do this ;)

here is the story: http://tinyurl.com/2vyrnuu

Why I love Cape Town

2010-04-09T10:13:00.000+02:00

I woke up this morning to grey clouds. The sky was grey, white misty clouds over Lion's head and rain trinkling down from the sky.

This is my favourite sight to wake up to. If I were to be honest, this weather is the reason I fell in love with this city because it is unpredictable and schitzophrenic.

I remember being here with my friends about three years ago and the weather was gloomy and grey, then sunny in the afternoon. We were frustrated and I remember saying how much I loved it and that if there ever was a reason for me to move here, the weather would be it. Three months later, I packed my stuff and have been in Cape Town for about three years now.

But besides the weather, Cape Town has a different pulse to the city I grey up in, Pretoria.

Pretoria is actually the opposite of Cape Town in a lot of ways. It is warmer and sunnier in Pretoria. I would go as far as to say that the people are warmer too.

Cape Town is full of my favourite people, the hippies. They come in all different shapes, races and sizes but they all have something in common. It seems that there are people here who have decided that life is messed up and instead of dwelling on things that they do not have, they would rather focus on things that they do.

So you have the writers, poets, filmakers, musicians, volunteers, nomads etc who do not know where their rent money is going to come from, but still insist on doing what they love. Even if it means that they may be broke for the rest of their lives. Because at some point in these people's lives, they realised that having a dream/talent and making it work was more important than all the riches in the world.

Besides the fact that they do not have much, they will still be the happiest people to have around you. You see, since I have been here I have been exposed to a lot of these people and at some point I find myself thinking that they are crazy. That I am crazy because I am one of those people.

It is this craziness, this energy that makes me love this city.

It also helps that we live by the sea and have a lot of gorgeous places to hang out. But I love Cape Town because of the people. The crazy ones. The hippies. The dreamers.

I miss the bundus

2010-03-19T08:57:00.000+02:00

Sunset at Grootbos Private Game Reserve in Gansbaai

I should be chilling here :(

The tiny secluded beach in Aniston Bay

A dassie in hermanus

let there be light...

2010-03-18T10:07:00.000+02:00

at the Waiting room. we play with light ..

Can we stop apologising for having an opinion

2010-03-09T13:21:00.000+02:00

I just did a search on Google Images for the term "in my opinion" trying to find a picture to go with this post and I was astonished. I was not astonished by how many pictures there are (actually there were only four) but by the search revealing122,000,000 results. That's a lot of people out there who are busy apologising for having an opinion, WHY???

http://goodtimeswithmo.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/imo-logo.jpg

I mean, I am writing this whilesitting through a discussion at Cadet School during a lively discussion Mandela/Race/ Reconciliation etc. Now we are meant to be learning how to write in Shorthand but this is far more interesting for reasons that may not be obvious to everyone reading this

I am distracted to a point of being annoyed because people are apologising for having valid points. I have the urge to stop them and ask "why the F*** are you apologising for having an opinion"? What would happen if we all made statements that were not followed by 'im just saying' or any of its other variations.

I will tell you what would happen and it is going to shock you: ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Perhaps I am arrogant. Who knows? But I really think that the one thing we are all entitled to is an opinion. If you say something I agree/disagree with, please do not add right at the end of your beautiful speech "that is only my opinion". Because you have not only made your statement redundant but you have also given me a strong urge to take off my boot and throw you with it.

Here is advice from one of my favourite writers, Siphiwe Mpye, which sums up my whole rant :

" Never say: “In my opinion...it’s just my opinion…I am entitled to my opinion” and the like. A man (and woman) never apologises for his opinion"

**I added the stuff in brackets this was in a post addressed to his unborn son, read it here

to be [a cadet journalist] or not to be...that is the question

2010-02-25T12:19:00.000+02:00

If your imagination is nearly as silly as mine, then you probably have the theme song to that American Comedy series, "Police Academy" playing in your head. Or perhaps, maybe even the theme song to the Disney cartoon series, "Recess" playing in your head.

Enough about music...

Because we are part of the INL Cadet School, we have to open an accompanying blog to go along with it, which you can check out here http://www.neocadet.blogspot.com/ (I am not very inventive with names, as you can see).

www.retrojunk.com

But now, the Cadet School has got people a little confused. Besides the fact that we don't wear cadet uniforms, which is highly dissapointing, since journalists are well known for being poor dressers and an army/navy uniform might not have been a bad idea to hide our crimes against fashion. But alas, the Cadet School trust's us enough to let us pick our own clothes (bless them) as well as our own titles, it seems..

Which is where confusion on whether or not we are "cadet journalists" or simply "journalists". The logic behind the latter being that we are in a cadetship and are therefore cadets.
So my logic (which may have been taited by too much fresh air during my time in the bundus) dictates that we are all journalists and the fact that we are in a cadetship merely suggests that we are honing skills which we already possess. I mean why spend four years of your life (that you will never get back) on a journalism diploma just so you can call yourself, a "cadet journalist" a few months later?

How is anyone supposed to take us seriously if we sign off our emails with:

Regards
Neoscribes
Cadet Journalist blah blah blah??

nah, I do not think it makes any sense. And I wonder if anyone will be able to make sense of this post, which might not make any sense at all??

My new home has a fantastic view

2010-02-15T11:44:00.000+02:00

http://www.capetownskies.com/1058/14_rainbow_devils_peakc.jpg

That is not the view from my window, but if I squint hard enough after the rain, I can convince myself that it is :)

After months of searching, I have finally found a place to rent in the middle of the Cape Town CBD and the view is fantastic. I get a view of Long Street as well as Devil's Peak (pictured) and Signal Hill on the other side.

So I get the best of both worlds but this is also because I do not have any curtains in my home, so I have no choice but to stare at my gorgeous view. All the rooms are empty, so I get a nice echo everytime I am on the phone :)

I live with my cousin and she is funny, so I am not bored living in the "Cave" as I have company and we can laugh it all off some of the things that are supposed to make us cringe.Yesturday we got a new Kettle and a Pan, it was so exciting but we realised that we do not own any cutlery so we sortalike had to measure out the coffee and sugar in our heads, which leads to interesting results.

But it is fun, we have our own place, which still needs to be fumegated but hey, one step at a time..

Back to school...seriously?

2010-02-11T10:10:00.000+02:00

http://narcosphere.narconews.com/userfiles/typewriter.jpeg

The only phrase that comes to mind at this point is this one "sometimes you have to go back in order to go forward". If that makes any sense to you.

This means that I have now gone back to school in order to go into journalism. Instead of the pressure of the newsroom, I get to spend 8h30 to 4pm every single day in a class with 12 other aspiring journalists learning all the things "they didn't teach you in journalism school". (More on the other 12 candidates later)

I know, hardly exciting!

All those hours spent taking notes, could be spent running up and down the CBD trying to get a first page story in one of the newspapers in the stable. But alas, I attend class after class after class and in the last two weeks I have had to create another blogspot address in which I write about my "experiences at the Cadet School" and yet another one on Vula (UCT platform) where I blog about my assignments (I kid you not).

But it is not all doom and gloom, I still get to pop in and out of the newsroom. Mingle with other journalists and hear from some of the most interesting people in the field like, Marianne Thamm, on what they think about the status of journalism and whatever else is on their minds really.

And I also get to do a grammar course, which if you have read any of my other blog post, you would agree that my spelling is terrible for a journalist.

Oh yah how can I forget, I get to call myself a journalist again, so bye bye "tree hugging"...

My cousin is back in town, yippeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

2010-02-08T17:00:00.000+02:00

Let's call her , Redd, because that is what she likes to call herself when she is feeling a little bold. So she got ot spend a whole month in Pretoria (lucky her) and we have been chilling the whole of today, with her telling me how it was at home. she got to spend everyday with my sister and my dad and all the people I love.

Now i miss home so much :( but i am glad she is back! yippeeeeeeee!

Caring is expensive..

2010-01-27T10:02:00.000+02:00

...this quote, I can't remember the name of the author, "your real calibre is measured by your consideration and tolerence of others".

As a South African, I can be both proud and appauled at our reactions to others in need. The Xenophobia attacks, HIV/Aids stigma, Homophobia ... One of the explanations that is being bandied about is that apparently, since we are a poor country, ourselves, and busy struggling through poverty and it's after-effects, we need to look in our own backyards and fix things there, before we jump on the first flight to Haiti and help out there.

I do not know how I feel about this because to me it is almost inhumane not to want to do something to help in Haiti because that country has been through so much hardship and me, as a South African, no actually as a human being, enjoying freedom that came at such a huge cost cannot afford to sit back and go "oh well, we got people dying everyday in Africa too, why should we help them".

One thing I learnt from working in the NGOs I have been a part of in the last 2 years, is that caring is expensive and some of us simply cannot afford to care.

I would like to save the elephants in the Simalaha and the Teak forests in Zambia for example, but I do not have the money and my way of helping is by begging rich people and organisation to give their money so that we can realise these projects and therefore help the people in those areas.

What I am saying is there will always be a reason why you cannot help others and there is always someone that needs help more than the next. Sometimes your contribution to a project/person that is close to your heart does not have to be in terms of money. By letting people know, by helping them understand (some people do not even know the history of Haiti) by passing on the message to other people who may be able to help, is enough.

But sitting back and pointing out all the things that are wrong in SA (without trying to help solve them either) is not the answer either. Caring is expensive, according to anyway but it does not have to be.

*obviously if you couldnt care less about anything and live your life just for you and your immediate family, then this post is not directed at you but thanks for reading this far anyway!

http://www.stevenkaylive.com/images/logo/Caring%20Hearts.JPG

what would the world be without geeks?

2010-01-25T15:35:00.000+02:00

hypothetically speaking of course.

I honestly do not want to hear the answer to that one. But thanks to my favourite geek in the whole wide world, I have a link to my twitter account on the blog. I do not know how to check if it works. So let me know.

*pls note that I am under the illusion that people take time from their day to read this blog. I know. Crazy. optimistic?*

Anyway, in other news, I found a website with so much hippie looks, I am addicted. Here are some of my favourites. Again, if you have a granny and she doesn't need her old clothes. Let me know.

http://www.lookbook.nu/ (all pics from that site)

Sharing is caring ;)

just for laughs...

2010-01-20T14:15:00.000+02:00

tragicomic?

2010-01-14T16:19:00.000+02:00

more whining..3 weeks to go

2010-01-13T15:34:00.000+02:00

http://aka.zero.jibjab.com/assets/production/01/10/48/33/83hw65.png

the last few weeks before starting a new job are the most tediously boring-waste of time-transport money- ever! Because you will not be given any new projects to work on since you are sailing onto another slave ship, so you spend most of your time idling away on Twitter and doing all other useless things, well at least that is how I will be spending the news two weeks or so.

This should be fun if it wasn't 40degrees celcius in Cape Town, this heat, goodness, it makes it 10 times harder for me to pretend to be very busy so i decided to update my blog more so that at least I am typing furiously and generally have a "busy" aura about me while im quaffling the coffee (which I am going to miss)

house hunting...

2010-01-13T12:04:00.000+02:00

Cape Town is a lot of things to a lot of people. To me its a sexy little town by the sea with a lot of hippies and generally badly dressed people who do not follow any fashion rules. I may be one of them, I am still unsure but yeah this is a great place with lots of contrasts and a lot of people want to live here with good reason.

Which is why I have been looking for a flat for the past two months and I feel like dropping a petrol bomb on all estate agents in town because they are all pretty useless at finding me a flat in the CBD. I mean, it is not like I am asking to live there for free (although that would be cool) I am a paying customer, u know.

So my search for a shoebox to live in continues and with the 2010 World Cup a few months away, you can bet your rent-money that these people will be charging an arm and a leg for (already overpriced) flats.

http://images.quickblogcast.com/7/6/1/9/8/199881-189167/NYCityCentralParkBench.JPG?a=90

But I am still here and the search continues, I am thinking of making friends with the hobos in the meantime, as I have a feeling that I may be sharing park benches and carbboards with them in the Company Gardens soon..

Post for Po...

2009-12-23T09:46:00.000+02:00

i do not even know when and how she started following my blog but one day I logged onto my blog to rant a bit more and there was a comment from a "spindrifting South African Sea Monkey" called "Po" and her logo looked like a unicorn or pony dipped through a rainbow. And she has been leaving comments, funny, encouraging ones at that, ever since..

Today I decided I would pay homage to Po, the Durban chick who is stuck in a lab in the UK, ok im not sure if she is from Durban or Cape Town but I remember us discussing Durban a lot at some point.

I would like to thank Po for the positivity, you seem like a really lovely lady and I love reading your blog because you are always positive even when you are whining like me sometimes :)

Tonight I will have my first drink in your honour, thank you for making cyberspace a friendly space. Keep being you.

holiday mode...

2009-12-21T15:49:00.000+02:00

I asked the photographer if I can use this as my background on that site that hosts my ego: Twitter and he said yes. So everytime I look at what my twittering twits are up to, i am reminded that ireally should be on holiday and not reading other people's thoughts.

more from him, check out http://75.co.za/rudzani

four days before Christmas...

2009-12-21T15:31:00.000+02:00

and im at the office. Isn't that just fantastic? While everyone else, ok maybe not everyone, but you know what I mean... as other people rather are lying on the beach; getting piss drunk then passing out before midday; shopping in malls full of screaming children, BoneyM blaring and tacky decorations , I am at the office...

I have tried as far as I can to avoid shopping malls and I have managed quite well as I am always broke. That was until yesturday when I had to go to Centuary City, that pseudo-Tuscan monstrosity to buy some drinks because that is one of the only places around Cape Town that sell alcohol on a Sunday.

Screaming children everywhere, families that look like they just walked off the set for the Klumps munching away and general pandemonium of too many people and too little space and little or no tact (RE: the decorations).

I really do not like Christmast decorations. No other time of year is it ever normal for gold, silver, green and red to be put together (the Christmast tree) and we are all supposed to marvel at that and call it beautiful, I do not understand?? and all that spending...it is safer at the office for broke grinchs like me.

I think I might even ask to work on Christmas day too because the beaches are full, not a single spot to lie down and read a book. We had to go all the way to Langebaan for some piece and quiet and time on the beach.

oh well, as long as no one is getting hurt right?

"Eat drink and be merry, forget the weary" someone once said to me!

Trying to remain unaffected on Aids Day

2009-12-01T12:11:00.000+02:00

pic from www. blog.bioethics.net/world-aids-day

I was not going to do a World Aids Day post, to be honest, it has been so fashionable to scream at the top of our "laptop activism" lungs slogans urging people to wear condoms and be safe and then 02 December comes and all the rock-concerts are gone, we go back to our daily lives and forget about Aids Day till next year, or for some of us, until someone we know dies of "Aids Related illnesses". So, what made this year different was that I was chatting to a friend of mine, lets call him Mr No-Nonsense Journo a.k.a NNJ, who was telling me that he is depressed with this whole World Aids Day. And if you had to be out in Soweto at 10pm to do a story, I guess you would be too. But he was saying that it was because you feel so helpless when you sitting there interviewing three sisters, who live in the same house and are all HIV positive, on ARVs and one of them is terminally ill. When it is your JOB to speak to these people and remain unaffected, it gets to you says Mr NNJ. Those are the kind of stories that the media laps up and the rest of us turn our noses up as we read about "those people" as if they are not our colleagues, neighbours, family or even friends. Being the journalist in this picture says No-Nonsense Journo, is the one who has to feed this to us and after doing the story drive back to Sandton, maybe buy a cooldrink on the way and remain unaffected... And these are stories that make World Aids Day worth it for me. The fact that as much as it is fashinable to scream RED, having a day like this makes people conscious of Aids, because we do need to talk about it more, not only on the first Day of December. On my way to work, for the first time I was noticing the red in everything. From the colour of the taxi speeding past me, to the little baby boy on the train in a red top, to the fire alarm in my office. And I was embarrased for only noticing today, for not doing more. This feeling of helplessness. So I tell these thought to this NNJ, asking (almost demanding) to know how one stays detached and he aswers simply "smoking and drinking" but we both know it is not that simple.. and then he ends our conversation with " but its all good man, one thing I know for sure is that Blacks always prevail bra, no matter how detriment circumstances may seem, they've become so resilient to suffering that it's bad to underestimate their capicity to survive" and it is this quote and the story about the ladies that reminded me of the importance of World Aids Day and made it worthy for me want to write, to have to write something in the hope that I inspire someone else to do something and if they are also feeling helpless, that is okay too..

attention whoring

2009-11-18T12:55:00.000+02:00

I am lit from within, through my face.

a waterfall binne in my huis

2009-11-18T12:33:00.000+02:00

kan jy dit glo? oh November, the month of madness. What with our geysey deciding to burst at a time when we actually decided to move out of our 80-year old house. It seems the house, like any relationship, does not want us to leave without scaring us emotionally. So my poor friend, lets call her "the housemate" had to contend with water gushing from the broken geyser all over the wooden floors and leaking so heavily from the roof that it could only rival Victoria Falls in it's intensity as the water made it way, through the ceiling from upstairs into the kitchen, where the housemate was washing dishes. Our landlord, who is a bit of a drama horse, came though in a panic, pacing up and down the stairs saying something incoherent about the wooden floors. "my wooden fLOORS!!!!". Ah the madness. The insurance guys came, and the electrician, and the moisture extractors and whoever else felt like randomly walking into the house under the guise of "fixing" something. My bedroom had to stay open so they can plug in these moisture extractors and as I sat at work I imagined these fat electricians going through my photos and clothes and lying (sweat and all) on my clean sheets, while they take a break. So now, the old hag (our beloved house) needs to be re-painted, re-wired and whatever else is necessary to make it habbitable again. All this just in time for Christmas Silly Season, when everyone remembers that they have a Nemesis in Cape Town and want to come stay over, FOR FREE. The housemate and i laughed about this as we looked at the spectacular view we have of the harbour, drinking black coffee and thinking of how fitting Sarah Vaughn's song "black Coffee" fits in with the mood we were in.

my walls are naked

2009-11-17T13:00:00.000+02:00

this is supposed to be my "reading room" or desk or whatever this one is self explanotory hahaha let me see ur grillz!

the caption says "he's got the whole world in his hands".

and u thought only the Ndebele women wore these around their necks...

One day I will get around to framing these photographs I have on my wall but till then I will immortalise them on my blog just in case they get torn up in the BIG move of 2009. I got them from a calendar this friend of mine gave me. A friend of hers is married to a photographer who went to Cambodia, Tibet and I forgot I think Thailand to take pics of the locals for this calendar and I think the point was to either raise money for them or give the money to whomever hired him. So I am really sorry I didnt credit the photographer but I lost the calendar a while ago but still love the pictures, hope u do too.

A wine fest in Gugs, just what the liver ordered...

2009-11-12T10:13:00.000+02:00

Journalist get a bad rap about drinking too much. Some of us have no choice but to wear it as a badge of honour even though we don't drink that much *cough, cough*.

One Sunday afternoon not long ago, a very good friend of mine who is from Gugulethu told me about the Itownship Wine Festival being held there and so I jumped onto a taxi, can u believe it costs only R7?

I was a bit nostalgic because part of me always feels guilty that I don't go to the township more besides the fact that I live in shitty neighbourhood with lots of hippies, drug-dens and tik-heads, I never go to the hood. So as I sat there waiting for the taxi to fill up, with a toddler kicking my seat (so I rock back and forth like a useless drunk) I was very excited. I was smiling at everyone, and not once during the entire taxi ride did I feel like choking the seat-kicking toddler or her parents.

With that overated monument of the Cape, Table Mountain, slowly receding behind, we sped off though the N2 heading towards Gugulethu (or Gugs if u trying to sound like a local). My only snag was that my friend's directions were a bit vague, something like "it is in a white tent behind the mall, you will see it man, the new shopping mall". It obviously did not occur to him that I had no idea what Gugs looked like (during the day *giggles*)? where this bloody mall was but hey I got there safe.

I paid R50 for my ticket (yes, journalists don't always freeload at least we pay at the end of the month) and I got a free glass (by the time I left I had a set of these) and hit the ground running. Really low turnout but who cares? more red wine for me. I decided to be civil and ask the lady how to "taste" the wine properly, what the proper etiquette was etc. She gave me a blank stare so I swallowed the Pink Shiraz and carried on like that for the rest of the afternoon till I bumped into my friends.

They were in the thick of things, buying wine and asking all sorts of relevant questions. I just handed my glass over and depending on how interesting the person at the stall looked and sounded, I stuck around to hear about the "tannins" and "aging processes" and "grapes" and all that stuff the wine-snobs like to bore us with at dinner parties. After some Shiraz, Merlot, Port and Champagne.

No actually I lie, because I leant at the Wine Fest from the laBourie lady that Champange is a region in France and so our stuff can't be called Champagne, so it may taste the same but basically u look retarded to wine-snobs if calling it Chamgapne with confidence. So we might as well call our stuff "Gugulethu or Paarl or whatever" just not Champagne, don't U just love how anal the French are about their alcohol?

At the end we went to Mzoli's. Mzoli's is very famous. Everyone excepr me has been there. It is on the list of things to do when u get to Cape Town. And that is why I hadn't been. Because it is a bit like every other hang-out spot "chisa nyama" I have been to in SA, be it Mamelodi, Attridgeville, Mabopane hell at some point the rowdy people reminded me a bit of Pimville in Soweto and even Hammanskraal.

So there, all hoods are the same, it is just that the Cape Town people speak Xhosa and we speak Tswana etc. So Mzoli's was a bit of a "been there, done that" experience, "nothing new in the hood". But I had samp and veges and while they will never taste as good an my my sisters it wasn't bad either...

Knaan

2009-10-27T14:06:00.001+02:00

I love Knaan. Recently saw him at a show he did in JHB (recently as in a few months ago but I only found the pics now now). Anyway, he is amazing.l I love his music and check the pics out or listen to him on youtube, let me know what u think...

and another one

2009-10-20T16:47:00.000+02:00

http://www.speakerbox.co.za/content/feature.aspx?cat=Urban&id=311 folllow the link to read another one of my pieces and don't be shy to leave a comment...

Not dressed "right" for the Cape Town weather, again

2009-10-09T09:09:00.001+02:00

picture from www.paklinks.com The most amazing thing is happening with the Cape Town weather these days; the sun is shining. If you are reading this from the UK or Ireland or any other place on Earth that hardly gets any sun, you will understand how monumental it is when you wake up and the sun is beating down on your lazy bum urging you to get up. It makes you feel brave in what you wear. You throw the trench-coat to the side and rummage through your summer clothes to see which ones you have been dying to wear. This morning I settled for an outfit similar to the one worn by the girl in that picture. So, no that is not me in the picture. But, if it helps you to keep reading this post, then you can pretend it is. Back to the sunny Friday morning... I make my way to work, on the train, and realise that the sun is just an illusion because it is still shit cold in the [step]Mother-City (a friend of mine calls it that). My smile vanishes and turns into a frown when the guy in front of me opens his window to let in a cold breeze. He is wearing a jacket so it makes no difference to him really. But I am literally freezing my ass off and i swear i can feel my bones shiverring. But he is bigger, has no front teeth and since I was not feeling particularly brave, I decide not to give him a PIECE of my mind and settle for a slow death-by-freezing. I get to work in a sour mood, walk into my office and see that a colleague is also under the same illusion as me. She is dressed in her Summer clothes. And she gives me a smile that says "I know exactly what you're going through" and then my smile is back again as i feel a strange closeness to this woman just because she is also not dressed "right" for the [step]Mother City weather.

I love hating on fashion ducks

2009-10-09T08:58:00.000+02:00

Im not too sure about the stockings but i would wear this dress if i could afford it. I hate being poor :( How cute is this glorified-clothes-hanger (MODEL) in that jacket? I love the bag. I think this is by Miss Sixty.

I am not the most fashionable person I know. But I am a journalist, so I do not need to have fashion sense. But every once in a while I peep into the world of New York Fashion Week to see what the latest trends are, so that I know what not to wear.

Just for laughs..

2009-10-06T15:44:00.001+02:00

picture from www.mahala.co.za

This was sent to be in a e-mail and i don't really know who to credit for it

The only people I am mad at this Spring...

2009-10-02T11:42:00.000+02:00

Picture from: http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=6428371012421462619&postID=5294013674243587660 I am always complaining about other human beings. You know, because I can. This day is no different fellow reader (you see I like to think that there is a mass of people reading my blog although I doubt this is so, but indulge me for a moment). Anyway, the sun is shining, weather is sweet and there is a spot on Clifton 4th or Camps Bay with my name on it. But I get there and I am the only one in a bloody bikini. So I get mad and start looking at the people around me angrily (though my sunglasses) with a look that says "why the hell are u guys dressed so warm? don't you know that it's gonna start raining soon and then you will not have the chance to frolic around the beach wearing a tiny mono-kini like the one I have or shorts or whatever else?" And yeah, I am a bit narcissistic, it's on my lift of bad-habbits to get rid of. I normally head to the beach alone (other people distact me you see because they wana run around in the freezing water and I just wana lie there and read), I decided recently to stop being anti-social and take a few of my friends who are new in town. So I had to leave the books behind because PDR (public display of reading) is not allowed. So we get to the beach and although it was a bit chilly I manage to convince the girls that it is not a big trainsmash. Then i declare proudly, "I will not be going anywhere near the freezing water if they do not bloody well take their dresses off and run around in their bikinis" I mean that is why you bought them right? Then I realise that, just because I do not have a problem showing off my imperfect body it does not mean that other people feel the same way. I feel bad about this because most of these people including my friends, have great bodies but they do not see it that way. So I feel kinda chuffed that I had a mother who reminded me when I was younger that im not gonna be skinny forever and that there is nothing wrong with being a skinny twig (this bit of advice saved me from future obsession with my weight) and the last thing I would want to do is to be 50, looking thorough my old pictures and wondering why I didnt enjoy my body. Nobody is perfect and if you spend all your time worrying about what other people think of you, you will never do anything. We all need to realise that as much as we worry about what other people think of us, they are also probably too busy worrying about their own bodies to give a flying **** about you. So you see dear reader, the girl showing off her cellulite and stetchmarks should be celebrated not rediculed.

read me....

2009-09-14T15:29:00.000+02:00

I managed to convince an online music mag in Cape Town that it would be a good idea for me to write reviews for them, every once in a while. Please follow the link, read and lemme know what you think... http://www.speakerbox.co.za/content/feature.aspx?id=282

Bittersweet weekend...

2009-09-10T10:41:00.000+02:00

You know what? Sometimes life happens when you are busy making plans, i think some smart person already coined a phrase like that so i can't claim it as my own. But i really understood it's meaning this past week. I went back to Pretoria to go graduate (yay!) so now i fit everyone's description of a journalism graduate and I have the happy snaps in that hot robe and funny cap to prove it. Somebody please explain to me why we still need to wear that hideous regalia for graduation? We all look rediculous in them anyway and what is the point of spending money on a dress if it is to be hidden underneath a hot, ill-fitting gown? Anyway we had Dr Mohau Pheko giving a speech while we baked in those hot gowns some more. i have never really been a fan of this woman as I found the column she wrote in the Sunday Times (SA version) rather uninspiring. Or maybe what she was writing about went over my head since I was "too young" to understand. Whatever it is. I liked her that day. She gave an inspiring speech about how we shouldn't be graduate who have nothing to invent better than CVs. So all the engineers must bloody well invent something and the same with the journos, the IT and the rest of the people who were seated there. Even my dad was impressed because he kept asking me to get the speech for her. I still do not understand how he expects me to perform this feat. After that came four days of friends, family, Southern Comfort, long Island Iced Teas and Mojitoes. All the things that make me feel like I was crazy to leave sunny PTA for the gloomy Cape Town to go be a tree-hugging writer (of sorts). Then Sunday came. Someone felt it their duty to sms me at 2am, telling me that my childhood friend passed away. I do not think that was the best way to hear the news, But hey, who am i to stand in the way of someone who wanted to be the "first" to break the news to me. So now, a few days later, after all my excitement of going home. I came back sadder that ever. You know, life just happened while I was busy making plans....

*&^% the excel spreadsheet

2009-09-01T14:45:00.000+02:00

I mean didn't old Bill Gates say Microsoft was supposed to make our life easier? Buy the Windows 2000 and whatever and you're on you way to typing excellence. No more worrying and fiddling with Tables, Excel is here for u. Wasn't that the whole point of calling the package "wondows"?

I hate Excel. I think I hate it more because our Mrs Coetzee there at the journo dept. thought it would be useful for her proteges to learn Microsoft Access instead (which I hated more). She said something about running queries and what-not.

What happened to the days of journalists only needing a typewriter, some hard facts and a cup of strong coffee (maybe with a dash of kahlua). I mean, I have a nice little database here and now I have been struggling to copy and paste an address because it keeps disappearing to the top of the page and there is a funny code next to it like "G169"... what the hell is this "G169" and why does Excell think it's a good idea to make codes that i did not put in? I find that a little arrogant, the nerve of Microsoft Excell ! (you will notice that at this point Microsoft Axcell has taken on a more human face for me to be able to vent properly)

I wana sue someone

please don't sue me

2009-08-25T09:55:00.000+02:00

First of all I know that the chances that the person who made those lovely pictures I nicked off photobucket.com will ever get toread this blog are very slim. But you can never be too careful. Because chances are he/she is American and boy do those people love to sue (or at least that's the impression i get everytime I have watched Ally McBeal, The Practice or Boston Legal). In order to avoid a possible lawsuit I cannot afford (especially since I do not know where the funds for my next 2-minute-noodle splurge will come from) I am writing this blog to thank the person who make that picture... Dear Whomever made the lovely picture and put it on photobucket.com

I love you picture (s). In fact I loved them so much that I have been using them for my facebook profile picture. And now that I am feeling a little braver (don't know why). I am using one as the header for my blog.

As we learnt in that painful journo class. You must always credit your source. But you will admit that it is rather hard since you didnt give ur real name on www.photobucket.com. All I got to go on was a silly pseudonym. But I will forgive you for that. If you promise not to sue. Because you pictures are lovely. Yours' sincerely Neoscribes

turks wana get me killed

2009-08-19T15:08:00.000+02:00

I met three Turks on the train. Or rather, I had no choice but to meet three turkish men on the train as they were the only white guys in the "3rd class" carriage speaking in a funny accent. Since this whole train strike steamerolled into it's second day. The train are a bit off-schedule. So if you are 3 white guys, smiling on a train full of blacks while speaking a funny language. So my beloved train goes swiftly from Stellenbosch (supposedly) to Cape Town but leaves all of us stranded in Bellville. Then it starts to rain and I do not have an umbrella. But the Turks have umbrellas, nice big newish-looking ones. They stand in Bellville next to me looking lost not knowing why the hell everyone is getting off the train and leaving them behind. They ask me and I explain that they need to catch a mini-bus taxi to Cape Town or sleep at the train station. Clever chaps. Because even though they speak little English, they decide it best to follow me since I seem like I know where I am going. What they do not know is that I have absolutely no clue and they make me nervous looking all "tourist-like" and might attract pickpocketers my way. But they are cute, smile a lot and the tall bald Turk with the blue eyes keeps asking me if I think he looks Russian. But they have an umbrella and I dont. So I keep smiling, nodding and walking with them because we are going to the same place. We get a little lost at Bellville station trying to locate a mini-bus to Cape Town. But this bit of info wouldn't have been obvious had you looked at my face, it said "I know where I am going and yes the Turks are with me but if you feel like robbing them, I do not know them". We get inside the taxi and I have to listen to them speak Turkish for the next hour or so and the other Turk (with the nice hair) keeps reminding me that they are "proud Turkey, not Russia". I just nod my head and point to the mini-tv and tell them to watch as the comedian is speaking Afrikaans and that sounds like Dutch. At this point, my geography fails me and I had assumed Turkey is somewhere next to Holland, kinda like SA and Zimbabwe are next-door neighbours. And to think I was the best Geography student in Grade 10 (sorry Mr De Jongh). We finally get to Cape Town station and I manage to convince the Nice-haired-Turk that this would be a good time to put away his Blackberry and stop speaking foreign because it's dark and they're not black so, really, it was for their own good. But baldi with the nice eyes (nice hair's friend) does not listen and almost had his cellphone jacked by a guy who strolled into the station after the near-robbery like he was walking into his house. So relaxed. Like nothing happened. At this point, I point the Turks to Adderley Street and simply go my own way for fear that they might get me killed. P.S i know I said there were 3 of them, the other one was a bit of a mute really. "Dont speake de Englishh"

photobucket...

2009-08-14T14:51:00.000+02:00

Im addicted.

It is really silly because all I really do on this site is look at pictures and load some of mine in order to show them to other people.

A bachelor..

2009-08-13T16:50:00.000+02:00

.. is someone, married or not, who does not in his or her heart entirerly understand why you would take a pizza our of a perfectly sound takeaway box and put it on a nice clean plate... the guy who wrote "i moved ur cheese" said that, I can't for the life of me remember his name now, damn he also said he once drank champagne 'so French it comes with it's own beret and goes "oh-la-la" when you open it' (this guy should have his own show surely)

Purses & murses

2009-08-13T09:45:00.000+02:00

Isn't the title just beautiful? I am assuming that a murse is a male purse. Aparently since the swine flu panic, wearing a mask at Rhodes University is just as fashionable as having a purse & murse. But really talking about swine flu is boring. My medical aid doesn't even cover it. But then again, I deactivated that %$#* a month ago so I am guessing the government hospital doesn't cover it either. Well, isn't poverty just beautiful.. Anyway, back to purses. I went thru my purse a moment ago and realised how stupid the idea of having a purse really is. Especially when your perpetually broke. I cant put my coins in that large space made for a cheque book or R100 notes. Those little compartments made for cards are also pretty empty. I gave up trying to fill them up with every "free' card i could get my hands on. But even with a Clicks, Exclusive Books and Ster Kinekor movie card.. it still looks pretty empty. I do not have a credit card because my dad said it's the devil and I decided not to challenge this particular statement as he would eventually be the one who has to bail me out when I owe R8000 on a credit card and can't even remember what I bought with it. U know how easy it is for one coffee at Vida e Cafe a day to turn into a habit and the next thing u know... anyway, purses & murses for boys and girls huh?

the 2-minute noodles rant

2009-08-07T08:42:00.000+02:00

seriously..

It is times like these when I wish my parents didn't give me the "be what u want to be" speech after I finished high school. Which led me to choosing to study to be a glorified ambulance-chaser (journalism) and which has somehow morphed into tree-hugging somewhere along the line. The messed up thing is that I love my job and I would seriously do it for free. THAT IS A PROBLEM!

Because now poverty is my friend. I am a poor tree-hugging writer. I live on 2-minute noodles, I doubt that there is a flavour that I haven't eaten. A quick facebook research (ahem status update reading "if i have to eat another pack of 2 minute noodles, i will flip") amongst my journo friend revealed that we are all pretty much in the same boat, living off 2-minute noodles, toast and lots of sarcasm.

Somehow, I finally understand what Ndumiso Ngcobo meant when he said something along the lines of "writers are treated only marginally less important that paper ink".What the parents should have done (which is what I will do to my offspring should i decide it necessary to pop a few) is to say: "no, no daughter of mine will end up as a starving writer" and gave me a mathematical sum to solve. Something difficult like those solve for x type.. No hiphop/pop/rock music in the house. only classic music to calm me down. Mozard, Beethoven and on a good day i can listen to some symphony ochestra or something but certainly none of this progressive, in you face music that will pollute the mind with lyrics that make you want to pen something down. Just calmness, violins, pianos, harps.. Every single birthday, as a friend suggested, get the same present. No cuddly toys, just maths set, sodoku puzzles and the Thessaurus Two weeks without a TV the first time you get 80% for an English essay.

Really that would have helped. I would be a miserable scientist somewhere at NASA but my paycheck would ensure that i never had to see another pack of 2-minute noodles again. Gosh I hate 2-minute noodles and my cupboard is full of the stuff. Goodness. Hapiness is overated anyway, who needs a job that they love anyway?

Staceyann Chin - my heroine

2009-08-04T09:05:00.001+02:00

I am not quite sure what qualities one needs to have to be a groupie. If hip-hop videos are to be believed, I had to have stalked this woman, slept with her (or at least have that at the top of my to-do list) been to all her shows and so on. Clearly being a groupie is expensive and since I had never heard of Staceyann Chin before in my life, I do not qualify as a groupie or is that a stalker? ok, look I will just call myself a huge fan and ignore the fact that I have only seen her perform once. Once was enough. I went to the Cape Town leg of Urban Voices mainly to see a friend of mine perform, and she never disappoints. You see, I do not really think I am "cultured" enough for the poetry crowd. Half the time, if I sit there during these intervals or before a show, I really have no idea what these people are talking about. Discussing authors I had never heard of and basically going all pseudo-intellectual on me. I always try to avoid them and just park myself in the theatre and wait for the show. Anyway, back to Staceyann, from the minute she came onto the stage with her huge afro and tiny figure I knew I was going to like this woman. Then I found out through the intro that she was a lesbian activist, had bucketloads of attitude and a "womanist/feminist", then she immediately registered in my brain as a real life superhero. (hence the picture). Her poetry is accesible and she speaks about women's issues that I could identify with like your period, rape, religion, sex etc. For example, she asked "why hasn't anyone invented a machine to suck out the blood yet?". Her stage performance is a bit of a mess, throwing papers around, reading from her memoir, walking around the stage or demonstrating (while sitting on chair with one leg almost on the floor) how she almost fell into a pit toilet when she was young. She is hilarious, thought provoking, interesting and entertaining. And all this I got from seeing her at the Baxter theatre for about 30 minutes. But like a real groupie I absolutely had to have a picture taken with her after the show, and I did. In case you're wondering. happy Woman's month to all the ladies reading this...

late again

2009-08-03T14:05:00.000+02:00

You have no idea how excited my broke-ass was when I found out that the train would be costing me round about a R100 bucks a month to get to Stellenbosch from Cape Town. I think I even did a little dance at the station after I was told this wonderful news. But as is always the case in my life, this excitement only lasted for about three days. Because, you see, it took only three days before I was late for work. Can you imagine being the new guy in lilly-white Stellenbosch amongst the "conservation" crowd and then arriving late for work?? Well it is not a good feeling. They all sort of shrug and whisper "Africa Time" under their breath. Ok so I made up that last bit. So since I have started here I have been late every single week for at least one day. Either a Wednesday or a Friday. The consistency baffles me. Like today, as was the case last Wednesday I was actually early for my train. Last Wednesday I watched my train chut-chutting past me and today, well... I just happened to get on the first one on the platform which happened to be the wrong one. I should have known when the people started singing charismatically that that could not have been my train because on my train the people are always sour and they do a lot of PDR (public display of reading). So being the only one PDR in a carriage of singing and preaching commuters should have served as a warning sign, but alas. I ended up in a place called Kraaifontein instead of Stellenbosch. All this would've been no sweat for me since I was sharing an office with the others non-office having intern/student types. But my boss had a bright idea that I should share an office with her. Which means that I have to do a walk of shame in the morning past all my seniors (who are always early) to get to my office. Shit! I think I need a car.

Those people..

2009-07-21T15:28:00.002+02:00

Since that post I wrote about hating forwarded messages (that people think are so "cool" or "funny") and confessing that I immediately delete them. I have lost a few friends, which I don't really mind because now I actually get proper e-mails. I have a friend who hates them with more of a passion that I do. Which is humanly impossible. But he actually does. Knowing this, I forwarded him a message last nite and included a bunch of other friends in the message just to annoy him. And it worked. He not only replied to the message but he also gave me a call in which he took 20 minutes out of my precious day to explain to me, yet again, how much he hates being forwarded "cutesy" messages. At this point I was rolling on the floor with laughter. Ok, not really rolling on the floor, more like giggling loudly into his ear. Anyway, he added that the fact that I had copied other people into the message made it worse because now the "lol' brigade are gonna reply and hit "reply all" and he would have to put up with all those "oh my Gosh, that is so funny LMAo" type of replies. I almost felt sorry for him before I realised how much I actually hate those people. I mean who the hell replies to a message by hitting "reply all" to people they do not even know? It was after this sobering realisation that I realised what I have done to myself. And promptly reassured him that my friends are a bit more mature than that and he had nothing to worry about. But I was really reassuring myself because now I realise that I also hate those people who press "reply all"..eish.. and yeah, I also hate, hate, hate, the Vodacom meerkat! I know it has nothing to do with anything. But I am on a roll today!

im bald again (big suprise)

2009-07-14T14:57:00.000+02:00

picture from http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/4495676/2/istockphoto_4495676-bald-black-woman.jpg

Timing. Something that I have never ever managed to get right. So as it stands, the only time I choose to have a mini-pity party for myself and be angry at the world will be that time when a friend of mine needs me the most and I am too caught up in my own shit to be there to offer support. My timing sucks. After about two weeks of sunny bliss in the Cape, I will choose the week where it is raining like madness to do my laundry (handwash nogal) and hang it outside to dry only for it to get soaked by the bloody rain... And the only time I choose to break up with an ex will enevitably be the day before my birthday. Which makes no sense at all because that left me with no boyfriend or present and I quite enjoying fighting with this poor guy. Yep, timing is not my stronmg point..but back to the hair This explains why after months of months of braiding, prodding, twisting, brushing and spraying, I have decided to cut my hair (yet again). But I chose a week when it is so bitterly cold and rainy in the Mother city that I haven't even had time to show off my head because it is always covered in beanies.Yep my timing sucks. But the hair had to go at some point. The expense, the stress and the pain of having those ladies pull at it to make it into neat little rows was just too much. i do nmo0t know how I managed for that long. Really! But any day is a good day for a cut for me.

Shitsoup...

2009-07-14T14:37:00.000+02:00

I coined that term this morning as it was the only befitting description for the shit soup I cooked last nite. If I was to present that to the food department at any boarding school or prison, I would have been promoted to head chef because it was really that awful. From reading prisoners stories about prison food and having my friends tell me how nasty boarding-school food was, I can say with confidence that I finally identify with their dismay. The only positive spin to this entire "shitsoup" mess-up has been to reinforce the fact that cooking should be left to people who actually know what the hell they are doing. Sllurping that mess, with carrots and bloody sweet potatoes swimming in it was the worst sense of self-inflicted torture I have ever done to my own psyche. I do not think I will ever recover! It was dreadful and I ended up settling for something that is impossible to mess up: Toasted cheese and tomato sandwich. Because I am damn well good at making a sandwich, but really who isnt?

I like talking about how bad a cook I am

2009-06-03T18:45:00.000+02:00

I know it's weird but I do. A part of me dies a little inside everytime I cook a meal and it comes out fine. I like not being able to cook. Part of it because everyone can cook and it's so boring listening to people exchange recipes. I mean "it is only chicken for crying out loud, how many recipes does one need to cook a bloody chicken". So I am always that one at a dinner party, ok no that is too posh. I am always that one at a random party who will proudly proclaim how hopeless I am at cooking. I am known as "that chick". In some twisted way I enjoy my title. It is kinda unique since everyone wants to be a Jamie Oliver or a Nigella Lawson and outcook each other, there has to be someone out there who will eat your meals and not try to "outcook" you right? If you make your wonderful meals and want someone to taste it without adding "I would've added some Parmasan (sp) to give it more body", I am always there. There is a need for more people like me I say. I mean I am good at other things ( I think) so I let people who like to cook shine. When I recite this tired old anology of mine, my dad only gives me a tired look almost to say, "so i shouldnt expect any grandkids from u anytime soon huh". Because u see, aparently African men don't want a wife who can't cook. Even this Afrikaans lady told me that I will stand no chance of rushing an Afrikaner boytjie to the alter because they too love their "poitjie kos'. But who wants to be married anyway? Surely the world would be a boring place if we all knew how to make perfect cassaroles and carrotcakes? Live and let live I say!

You haven't changed in 10 years

2009-05-29T06:18:00.000+02:00

Thanks to assbook I have been re-connecting with a lot of old friends. Most recently, two that I went to Middle School with (Middle School is what we called Secondary School in the good old days). That is roughly ten years ago since they last laid eyes on me. A lot has happened. I would like to believe that I have changed a lot. No actually I have changed a lot. But not according to them.

All they could say was "you haven't changed one bit in the last 10 years". But I am thinking, Of course I have changed, I have hair now and a bit of an ass.. ok maybe they have a point when they say im still bubbly as ever but it's only because I only put drunken pics and ones with a cheesy smiles on assbook. So it creates the illusion that I am still a happy go lucky person but that is not so.

Anyway but a hell of lot has changed in their lives, the guy is getting married soon and is also living in Cape Town and the chick is still caught up in the past asking me about people I hardly remember. And of course, she thinks we should have a reunion. Ok so now I have forgotten my point completely, maybe this is a good time to stop!

hair rescued at cape town strain station, oh yes i did

2009-05-27T18:51:00.000+02:00

I have been growing my hair of late. It is not going too well. My hairline halfway down the back of my head because of too much plaiting. The hair is not long enough for me to do anything else with it. It's really frustrating, especially if you have an interview to go to the next day. It seems I will have to bear the ET look thoughout Winter, which I am not complaining about because my hoodie collection is not looking too bad. I made a plan and I looked presentable (well according to me anyway). Having to wait an hour and a half for the train to the Winelands bored me to death. My attention turned to my head and I started scraching and puting it back in place. So by the time I left Cape Town Station, I looked like I had never come in contact with a comb to start with. I made a mental note to do something about this hair as soon as I got back to the station. Now if you have ever walked in a train station, taxi rank, the street or any place where you are likely to meet women with bad hair (around SA) , then you know where I am going with this.You see, as soon as I surfaced from inside the train station, I had about 3 women shoving boards with pics of nicely plaited hair on them in my place. Basically these women can spot a bad hair day from a mile away, I think it's part of their training or a sixth sense they develop as soon as they learn how to plait hair. I was not going to shrug them off like the lady walking in front of me did because like an alcoholic walking into an AA meeting, I knew I had a problem and only they could help me. About 30 minutes later, I was having my hair poked and prodded in an effort to have long neat cornrows running down my hair ( think wheat plantations or early Alicia Keys). Because they work from booths the size of a toilet, there is very little space to move. You can bet your last R80 that they will fit five customers in there and each with their own designated "hairdresser". It is therefore not highly suprising that at some point I had this woman's butt in my face and soon as that was over, her elbow was flying too close to my eye because there is so little space and the lady on my right was giving me funny looks because i found her there and was gonna leave before she did, but clearly its not my fault that her head is big (ok so its not her fault either). Anyway, as my head is getting tighter and tighter, I kept trying to look down in an effort not to bust out into tears and when I did eventually look up, I was looking into this woman's hairy cleavage. What a traumatic sight! She had pretty little boobs with a bit of hair in the chest area and a bit of hair on the chin. I really didn't understand why she had to stand in front of me (of all people). For a moment I wished I could go across the street and get myself a cheap pair of sunglasses just to protect my eyes. And then she left and all the pain I was feeling on head turned to little tingling sensations, partly because it was all about to be over but also because I was already visualising how relaxing it would be once I get the chace to jot this all down. So I have decided to put the thought of cutting my hair out of my brain (for now), ignore the obvious health harzards at the Salon and go again as soon as I have another bad hair day but hopefully with a camera in hand this time.

Birthday resolutions

2009-05-10T13:48:00.000+02:00

Here is how it goes. I wake up on the morning of my birthday and make a resolution. Then I just do it. So my birthday resolution for this year were: to start jogging and find a new drink (red doesn't do it for me anymore). So I woke up bright and early, well around 9am to be exact and put on my gym bunny clothes and off I went up the heel with the dog in tow and a bottle of water in my hand. You should have seen the determination on my face, Comrade marathon runners would be envious. But 10 minutes into my morning jog, I felt like my chest was on fire...*who said it was gonna be easy*. But I kept going and made it up the hill. I also had the Oom (grandad) watch me from the bottom of the hill with strict instuctions to come fetch me as soon as I fell down because I had a feeling I would but I didnt. I made it safely down the hill, wishing I had never gone up in the first place and feelings healthier nonetheless. So since they decided to have a braai. It was time to get my second bday resolution out of the way. And it was easier than I had expected. A hell of a lot more easier than that jog I took this morning. You see there had been tins of ginger ale strategically placed in the fridge and today I realised that it wasn't because my hosts were tired of cooldrink but they were to be used to "mix" with what will be reffered to as "my new favourite drink". I love it. The nice thing about birthday resolutions is that their soul purpose is to lift my mood on my bday only. That means I won't be running up the hill anytime soon unless if there is someone waiting for me with a drink in hand and a chopper to take me down afterwards. I think my exercise routine of jogging around the dinner table a few times was working wonders for me anyways. Lastly, since I have been neglecting this poor blog for some time, my third birthday resolution was to update it before getting back my unfinished glass of ginger what what....

I met a mirl, finally

2009-04-29T16:05:00.000+02:00

Boy must it suck to be a man these days! What with wearing pink and skinny jeans between 3 step beauty routines, you would think the "butch" man was slowly going into extinction. And as we know, pop culture is always quick to come up with convinient little annoying names for anything from Brangelina to Earworms (irritating songs that u can't help but sing along to .. think Katty Perry "I kissed a girl"). There is a term for the pink wearing, manicured, "girly maN" and he is known as a mirl...get it? girl? mirl? yeah I know, u kinda slow.. I think I may have encountered a mirl. Details are a bit hazy because I was knocking back J&B and lemonades on the flight back to Cape Town, so I may have dreamed him up. I mean its not everyday when one gets upgraded from Kulula (where there is a spaza shop on the flight) to British Airways, where I can be served as many J&Bs as my poor liver can handle by really cute flight attendants in tight pants. Back to why it sucks to be a man... So I was excitedly telling my friends that a mirl doesn't only exist in Cosmo magazine, and that I had met a guy who upon meeting me had guessed my bra and dress size as well as my age correctly and he didn't seem gay. I think he had superpowers (thats my story and I am sticking to it). Obviously I am expecting them to be on some "yeah, that's perfectly normally" but instead I get responses like "that guy is gay" etc etc. It didn't help that my "friends" were actually random facebook friends and this discussion was taking place on my status update and most of the responses were from men. I have noticed how the "pink" factor has made it so much easier for us to (wrongly) classify people. Take the fact that I spend all my time with my female friends and cousins, and some of which haven't been in relationships for a while and we are all immediately called a bunch of lesbians. It also doesnt help that took a trip to Cape Town and stayed at the most "pink" area one can find in the cbd, Green Point, and we didn't realise that our favourite eating spot was a gay bar, besides the guy in the menu with no clothes on..

International Jazz Festival not much of a feast

2009-04-22T15:06:00.000+02:00

Mos Def

Zaki Ibrahim

340ml

You know every major festival needs a headliner, that one person who is gonna make you leave your bottle of red and the warmth of your home, to go stand on your feet till the early hours of the morning, while drinking out of a plastic cup and basically freezing ur ass off to death....

And I happily trodded along to the jazzfest because the headliner was none other than Mos Def. I mean he is a great rapper/sometimes actor/ and he's cute, more than enough reason to go to the show. But he was only to come on at like 10pm and I got there at about 5pm. So my friends and I went to see Zaki Ibrahim's performance, and she was beautiful, didn't disappoint. Then we saw 340ml, Rus Newhich (forgive my spelling) and they were cool too.

It was a nice build-up. As I was sipping out my plastic cup and eating fish/calamari and chips with my friends, I really didnt mind that I hadn't had a seat for the past four hours because Mos Def was about to blow us away. But a few songs into his set I really wished I was sitting down because he was singing "toxic" and tripping over his own band while I was standing there waiting for him to start rapping. I was disappointed. But what the hell was I expecting? It was a Jazz festival afterall.

So I dragged adecided to w friend of mine inside the main venue so we can see some real jazz and what else was up. There was an uninspiring exhibition of pictures of the late Merriam Makeba. I don't know about you, but I have seen better pics of Merriam in the local press than I did in that room. The only pic that I liked was one of her with her back to the camera on the stage performing.

Then nature calls and while standing in a long queue to relieve myself, I hear Hugh Masekela absolutely killing it in the venue next door to the loo. I see a few minutes of his performance because he was doing his last few songs and I really wished I had been there instead. He seemed like the real headliner of the show...for me at least!

bored of pseudo-political analysts

2009-04-22T14:43:00.000+02:00

Finally the big day arrives. Election day. The day when we can all breathe a sigh of relief because now all the boring people who have been running their mouth about which party to vote for will have to find something else to talk about. I am so happy I could cry. Now I will be able to wait in that long queue at the bank without having to listen to someone I just met 2 seconds ago, telling me which party they are going to vote. Basically, now every self appointed pseudo-political analyst will go back to being boring again and I can happily ignore them the way I have been doing for years.

Oprah moment

2009-03-24T06:07:00.000+02:00

Neotionery definition " the moment where you put down that third bag of pretzels and roll off the couch only to realise that you gained weight. Then going on to act suprised and say things like "how did I let this happen to me again" on the cover of your very own magazine" Please bear in mind that the Big O did not actually roll off the couch after a few too many pretzels but that would probably be something I did. So now like the Big O, I am trying to make it right with a bit of exercise and eating right (half a packet of Pretzels instead of 6). The exercise bit is not going too well coz I was lifting weights the other day and I now have a pain in my neck and somewhere on my chest. It hurts when I breathe. I was moaning about it to a colleague of mine and he says its coz im sooo unfit and he proceeded to hand me a running programme. No mercy I tell you (last time I invite him to my pitty party). There is nothing wrong with the programme, it is actually easy to follow but the only snag is that there are bloody pofadders rolling up and down the hills and I AM NOT ABOUT TO GO RUNNING AROUND IN SKIMPY SHORTS JUST SO I CAN GET MY LEGS BITTEN OFF AND LATER AMPUTATED AFTER I HAVE A RUN-IN WITH A POISONOUS POFADDER. Nah ah, so I have to work smart. Like running around the dining room table and then proceeding to do sit-ups (ouch) and what not, in front of the TV. The one thing I can learn from the Big O though, is that you don't wana spend ur udult life obssesing about your weight, it makes you a bore. The fact that you have enough money to talk about it on your tv show, CNN, ur own magazine and whatever else is available ...makes you more of a bore. The truth is we all know the secret to weight loss. Eating less and Exercise. There simple. The amount of energy we use to bitch and moan about our weight could actually be used to do a few more laps around the dining room table or even more lunges while watching an episode of Aljazeera. I know I don't want to wake up one day like the Big O did and say things like "I'm mad at myself. I'm embarrased. I can't believe that after all these years, I'm still talking about my weight." Not unless I have my own talk show anyway.

Addicted to Aljazeera

2009-03-23T21:13:00.000+02:00

Warning : I am now going to spend the whole post writing about my love affair with a news channel (channel 406 to be exact) I'm so addicted that I am even considering being one of their war correspondents. We could always use more suicidal journos in the Middle East right? ok maybe not just yet. I may need my legs later on in life. I know why they say watching news is addictive. I'ts not just the news though, they have great programming. Like The Listening Post, which has to be my favourite. Where they look at the way the world media cover certain events like the Iraqi War, 9/11 or in today's episode, the CNBC network and how they misled viewers with their coverage of the "financial crisis" etc. It is always good to get a fresh perspective on the news of the day and Aljazeera does exactly that for me. They also have brillant documentaries. let us bear in mind that I was not much of a doccie buff till I had to take a class in "documentary scriptwriting" about 2 years ago. Besides Nanoek of the North being the first doccie ever made (or something along those lines) I have newly found appreciation for doccies now and that class I grudginly took. I sit through the Documentaries on the Middle East (Cold Peace which I sat through yesturday) with a huge smile on my face. They also have a nice one on South Africas biggest hospital, Baragwanath called "Saving Soweto"... I mean why can't the SABC news..okay let me not go there. Rather than looking at the Middle East as an oil rich, terrorist ridden hell-hole, they actually go in and at least try to get the whole story. I mean they were the only media organisations with cameras inside Gaza after the recent attacks, so at least (at least in my mind) they are more credible that a blithering journo from {insert fav news channel here} who is stuck at the border but is reporting on the thing like he is actually inside. ***end of rant****

Tired of the Agulhas Plain or just plain homesick

2009-03-23T20:36:00.000+02:00

Yeah like you didn't see it coming? I have just about had enough of the bundus. It's almost a year since I moved to go live amongst the trees and all things natural and yeah I think that saying 'quit while you're ahead" springs to mind at this minute.That and the fact that one of my friends accused me of being a hippie today and the only answer I could come up with was "not necessarily". So I have decided that I need to move back to the city, although I still like the slower pace of Slaapstad, I might wana be back in Johazadousberg or even Pretoria, haven't decided yet. Although being a war correspondent for Aljazeera wouldn't be a bad option at all. Something about Aljazeera just makes me wana pack up my little suitcase and move to Doha. I almost did it once till I realised I couldn't even afford a bus-ticket to Paarl let alone a one-way ticket to Doha. The thing abour spending a while in the middle of nowhere is that it actually makes you weird, especially working in conservation. The people are too nice, it's so weird. Must be something about "saving the Earth" that guarantees that you stay bright and chirpy all day everyday. All this talk about "alien" (trees) and recycling has my friends thinking I am few slices short of a loaf. I even tried to convince a few guy friends that the soles of their sneakers can be recycled to make new basketball court. Obviously this is not the kind of thing you want to hear during a drinking session. But really enough is enough. I miss the bloody concrete jungle. I am homesick. But most of all I miss hanging out with my friends and going out and bitching about the traffic.. would you beleive? I actually miss being stuck in N1 traffic. Now that's crazy.

Snakes on the Plain

2009-03-16T20:27:00.000+02:00

Im sure you already know where I am going with this. But really, what would the point of having a blog be, if I couldn't even state the obvious. I mean I am bored stiff, so u might as well indulge me as I whine about another week in the bundus on the Agulhas Plain.

A whole week has gone by and we have seen about 3 snakes, they are apparenly called "pofadders". I am a city girl so I can't be expected to remember how to spell all the names. It's hard enough coming to terms with the fact that fynbos is not a plant but a group of species. Information overload.

But what I don't get is why the people seem so shocked at the sight of these snakes. I mean we are living in the middle of nowhere, surely they have seen poisonous snakes before? But every time a snake has been "spotted" everything has to stop so we can give the poisonous thing our undevided attention. Last night I decided, an episode of Carte Blanche was more important that seeing a poisonous snake run accross the veld.

I mean, give the damned thing some privacy why don't you!

But the truth is I am scared of getting bitten. I like Snakes when they are far far away, on tv, at the Zoo etc. Having had a close look at the "pofadder" it looks kinda pretty, reminds me of a belt, maybe even shoes...

keeping time..

2009-03-07T14:55:00.000+02:00

I was browsing through time magazine the other day. You know looking for interesting news so I can sound as smart as the rest of you during dull moments at a dinner party. But I ended up at the pictures section.

enjoy

travelling dilinquents..

2009-03-07T14:24:00.000+02:00

I love my friends. I might call them dilinquents most of the time but that is my way of showing love or something that closely resembles it. They call me a dilinquent as well so I guess it's all good. Anyway, since we are all practically working our asses off for THE MAN. We came up with a brillant plan while drinking at a friends impromptu "farewell" the other day. The farewell really wasn't planned, we just crashed a friend's braai and decided as soon as we arrived that the theme for the braai would be our friends' farewell since he is joining me in the United States of helen Zille soon. So, we are chilling there at a braai and it never occurs to us that we actually need to be eating braaied (sp) meat for this gathering to be called a braai. We only ever thought about the food when it started to rain. But who needs food when u are in good company anyways.. Eventually we end up talking about a trip to Mozambique. Now anyone who has been exposed to me for more than is necessary will know that I have been planning to go to Moz since Jesus was in diapers. I am still planning but this time, with the added knowledge that the dilinquents want to join in. Therein lies the problem. I leave everything to the last minute and now I have been tasked to plan a trip for about 6 people. Where the hell do I hide and how the hell did I agree to this anywa? But on the other hand, it is bound to be an awesome trip so best I stop blogging about it and actually do some actual planning. PS: if you are reading this and actually know where I should start, please don't be shy to leave me a comment :)

I write lol and Im not even laughing

2009-03-02T21:40:00.001+02:00

That is the name of this random group I joined on assbook the other day. Im one of those people who join groups that achieve absolutely nothing. But that is not the point of this post. The point of this post is that my use of emoticons is out of control and that I have way too much time on hands. The lol, lmao and smiley faces (that used to annoy the living daylights out of me in my past life) can now be found peppered all over my sms' and e-mails. This is a disease surely, but I am not sure if I am ready to be cured just yet...Which could only mean that I fall into the category of people who assume that it is important to inform others (the reader) when to laugh by inserting an emoticon... I mean since when is it safe to leave to decide for themseves when to laugh or not? They'll thank me one day for reminding them that I am laughing out loud while typing to them (at least that is what i would like to believe.Sometimes it is necessary to use then, especially to move the conversation along. Me: blah blah blah Friend: blah blah blah Me: OMG u so funny Friend: lmao Me: ha ha hahehehe :) you see the conversation lost its mojo and now we just using the emoticons and the lols to keep the conversation moving while we think up something else to say or find a reason to log off.

Unwanted cds make great doorstops

2009-02-24T21:35:00.000+02:00

my cd collection is dwindling by the minute. From a vast collection of mostly hip hop music I bought over the years, I have only a few cds left. Mainly because I still expect people to bring back the cds they "borrowed" from me. If I had to chuck out all the "free" cds I got in Hype and SL magazine and all those dvd-rs with so much underground hip-hop on them that they make my head hurt, I am left with a few original local hip-hop cds. There really wouldn't be anything else because that is the only kind of music I am prepared to buy. Partly because it's cheap and I find some gems but mostly because the cd's get shoved in my face and I have no choice but to buy. The latter case is mostly with people I know or their friends who put one on guilt trips for "always whining that that we make crap music and when we bring good music out, you refuse to buy". At this time, I am already making a mental note to keep my big mouth shut.The price we pay for friendship, around R70/80 bucks at street level. Anyway, so I went thru my "collection" and found a cd that I bought a while back but never got to listen to it because I didnt understand the language or because it sucked. I decided to give it a chance today and it stil sounds awful. I would give it away as a present but the hippies don't listen to anything but new age whoosh-shosh and I would feel bad giving it to any other person because I suspect they already have it. So I found another use for it (and others like it) I use them as doorstops or sell them. And they work wonders.

one last cup of coffee before I give it up completely..

2009-02-24T20:40:00.000+02:00

Procrastinating would be the right word. But my spelling is not what it used to be so I tend to steer away from big words.Anyway, I have a problem with putting things off to the last minute. It was all well and good at varsity to finish off assignments the night before a due date but now that I am working for THE MAN, that doesn't cut it anymore. Well that and the fact that our power supply is not what it used to be. (read load shedding). Which reminded me that I hadn't had my coffeee yet. So I thought I'd give my bad habbit one last go before I give it up completely. There I was flicking thru my diary, "hmmm 5 stories by the 2nd of March, HA! that's more than enough time, especially since I have whole week and a few days to burn". So I chilled, made another cup of coffee, paced up and down the office for no reason other than to irritate those who actually had work to do and checked my diary again only to realise that I only had 3 days to get everything done, including interviews, research, pics and a trip to PTA at the weekend.... Did I mention that I am leaving in two days and have yet to book a flight or arrange a way out of the bundus to get to the airport. I know what you are thinking, I am thinking it too. Time for another cup of coffee. Anyway, the only reason I am able to do this now is that I was able to push some of my work but I still haven't booked my flight? and the fact that I live 2 hours from the airport? and I don't even own a bicycle let alone a car?...

The relunctant hiker in search of cellphone reception

2009-01-29T12:29:00.000+02:00

I have learnt to live with the fact that I can only get cellphone reception at certain points in the bundus. I have also learnt (to my horror) the fact that these points are never in the house next to the bar, they are always somewhere remote and very far to walk. Which explains why I have become a reluctant hiking enthusiast because I can only get reception at the top the hill. The view is unbelievable up there but I am always too lazy to go up. So, the one day I'm chilling by the dam when my cellphone beeps because I just got an sms. The sms was 2 weeks old but it was an sms nonetheless. I was so happy as that meant I could just go there instead up that hill (like Jack and Jill). But it seems that the reception by the dam is not strong enough for me to make calls or reply my two week old sms'. The other day I walked into the kitchen and my cellphone beeped again, I know what you're probably thinking by now, "why the hell do I carry my cellphone with me in a place with no cellphone reception anyway?". I don't know either. Recently, my cellphone has started to ring in my bedroom. But it only has reception when it's on the dresser and the damn thing(dresser) is too heavy for me to move. So it seems it's still the long walk up the hill for me. It sucks, I know, but it is doing wonders for my thighs. I mean even my shopping habbits have changed to accomodate my reluctant hiking status. Over the holiday I was at GAME with the family, and instead of hauting the music section, I was listening attentively to guy explaining to me which hiking tents, ropes, shoes (u name it) work better in the bundus..

since when is it cool to smell like disinfectant anyway?

2009-01-20T08:19:00.000+02:00

So I walk into the office loo the other day and notice that the new year has brought fresh changes to our unisex toilets. I think someone made a new year's resolution to try and keep the air in there ultra germ-free ( whatever that means) because instead of regular air freshner smelling of lavender and what-not, we not have Dettol neutra-air treatment. The name doesnt roll off the tongue but I'm sure germs get a whiff of that stuff and simply disintergrate into whatever it is that they are meant to become. I mean really? but then again it's only air freshner right, we could always use a lil bit of extra CFCs in the air (it doesn't say CFC free on the can). I am thinking of carrying a can in my bag so i can spray it in the air whenever I drive past that sewerage plant in Pretoria on my way out of town. Anyway having had a whiff of that neutra-air ( smells kinda nice actually), I see an advert on TV advertising Dettol deodorant. I'm not much of a TV snob so this advert might be a bit old. I mean if I fall down a hill and get a tiny bruise, i'd wash that with some Dettol. Hell, I have been known to put some of that light green stuff in my bath water... but deododrant? What's next Dettol body cream? But now I am thinking, deodrant? since when is it cool to smell like disinfectant anyway?

you're not smiling, let's take another one...

2009-01-14T06:58:00.000+02:00

Ok, I admit it, I am obssessed with taking pictures. If it's there, I will snap it. Notice my deliberate use of the word "it's" instead of "he/she", well that's because I hate taking pictures of people because the minute u shove a lense in their face, they smile. Eventually, when I do manage to get a few pictures of non-smiling-people they insist on checking them out and then look at the money-shot (that would probably have won me a Pulitzer Price) and go "oh, no that one is not nice, I'm not smiling, take another one". At this point I am ready to take another one (shot of that vodka.) It is much much better for me to take pictures of things that are not allowed to pose. You know: Doors, Trees, The N1 traffic etc. Obviously this non-smiling thing has given me a complex because I don't smile in pictures taken of me. Now this is a problem for people as it means that i am not happy. So I always get a blank stare and a "you're not smiling, let's take another one". As you can imagine, I am already hoping that they are reffering to the bottle of vodka on the table and not another happy-snappy picture. So my one friend, Miss Smarty-pants came up with a solution that worked for a while. Rather have them take pictures of you from the back. This seemed to be working for her for a while until the point where she was not in control of who took pictures (curses the camera phone). So now, she like me, has caved in and we are now party of the happy-snappy brigade just smiling form ear to ear as soon as someone starts to snap because at least then "picture time" is out of the way and we can get down to that bottle of red that is being neglected on the table.

As it turns out...

2009-01-11T18:52:00.000+02:00

I wasn't being eaten alive by creepy-crawlies. I had been hugging way too many of those kids in the bundus, and one of them left me with a Christmas present : Chicken Pox. A grown ass woman with chicken pox, what a way to start the silly season.

Nacht Wacht- and the not so dreaded christmas party

2008-12-13T18:15:00.000+02:00

The first thing we saw as soon as we parked the car was this tree. For some reason, a picture had to be taken.. My first Christmas party and im glad to say that is was not a disaster, quite dignified actually. Good wine (2004), great venue and good company. i was waiting for someone to misbehave but alas, I guess people in the bundus are more calmer and less prone to dancing on the tables like my fellow city-sleekers!

No prices for guessing..

No that wwas not my drink, the decoration on the table. Although it could have done with a fresher rose.

The oldest building on the farm, this now houses the Art gallery where Melanie Albertyn (our host) has some of her painting as well as other artists. i think it used to be a stable (since the history of the farm goes back to the 1800s) but Melanie told us the history of the farm as we were eating and gulping some 5 year old Shiraz, so details of her talk are bit schrachy.

The restaurant, which is in the middle of the farm, called Country Cuisine.

I'm being eaten alive by creepy crawlies that fly!!!

2008-12-13T17:37:00.000+02:00

Maybe that is a bit melodramatic but it sure feels like it. The thing with making a transition from city-life to being "one with nature" in the bundus, is that the idea of it seems so romantic. Rolling hills, lots of beautiful scenery, peace and quiet, no traffic etc. But the one thing that I forgot about in my dreamy little head was the bugs and how they enjoy feeding off dreamy tree-huggers in the hills. The good thing is that we don't have snakes (at least I have been told by a rather dodgy source). So I can deal with a few bugs feeding off me every once in a while, it is the circle of life afterall right? Since we have no cellphone reception, I have to up the hill (like Jack and Jill) every now and then to make a phonecall or two. The view is spectacular up there, the sunsets too. But all this is forgotten as soon as I get back to the house and constantly having to scrach myself after the bugs have finished their feeding fest. In fact, I am convinced that they now time my walks up the hill and call their relatives and neighbours to come and feast on the new arrival. The sad thing is I don't have the heart to squash them.. I imagine the conversation goes something like this: Bug1: we have something new to feed on Bug2: No, u kidding me!!! Bug1: Im not, can't u see my new shinny complection? Bug2: Now that u mention it, u do look kinda well-fed these days..so where is this? Bug1: *gives detailed description of my location* you should come through, in fact bring the whole neighbourhood with u', there is more than enough to go around. Bug2: Done! Ok, so maybe bugs don't speak English, but as I am taking a break from typing to scrach yet another spot on my back, I feel that this is adequate training for that reality show "Survivor". At least then I can be famous for being the girl who never complained about the bugs eating her alive because i am getting more than my fair share of practice down here in the bundus. I guess it really is "a bug's life!!"

Go Natural and Organic or Go home

2008-12-06T09:08:00.000+02:00

That was the name of the expo held at the Cape Town Convention Centre. Now, I am not too sure about that name (I always have a problem with names). It's just not catchy enough, I mean that phrase, "Go blah blah blah Or go home" is so 90's... no one speaks like that anymore!!! Anyway, the fashion show (pictures) was called "No KaK" which means "no Poo" (for lack of a more socially-acceptable-word) in Afrikaans. It was kind of boring watching these ladies parade around in clothes dyed in Beetroot water, tea, coffee and what ever else. The only consoling factor for me was that some of the design student were from my campus, so it was nice hearing TUT mentioned every once in a while... but that's about it. The talks were interesting, as expected we had someone remind us that the world is in chaos, its our fault and only "going green" is going to save the planet (apparenly). Then we had a lady, Anthea Torr, basically telling us that you can't be a "greenie" and not be vegan. She is vegan, and so is her entire family (including the dog). After her drawn-out talk with the soccer-moms asking her for ways to trick kids into eating vegetables, I went in search of free stuff since Pick n Pay handed us these huge shopper bags. I landed up at their food stall for some free organic coffee and tea as well as scones and what not. So my coffeee supply for the day was taken care of, by the time I left the expo I was still not sure if organic coffee tasted better than my regular filter coffee. I checked out the stalls, the natural and organic market is growing, solar this, hybrid that, suddenly I had new "greenie" words to annoy my friends with. From shopper bags to make-up and food, even wine...would you believe "organic red wine" but they all taste the same to me.

Gansbaai

2008-12-06T08:56:00.000+02:00

found it bizarre that the graveyard in this town was next to the sea, I mean what happend if a storm comes? You don't want to see headstones floating off the coast now...

harbour

Hermanus Pietersfontein and the rocky shores

2008-12-02T18:15:00.000+02:00

During by brief stint in Hermanus. I took the took some time to learn something about the town. Aparently it was named after mr Hermanus Pietersfontein, the man who "discovered" it. I can imagine Mr Pietersfontein coming up the hill to "discover" this lovely town by the sea, but I can assure that there must have been people living there and as is the case with history, most of these little facts are ignored. I mean who wants to know about the original people who resided that when you can learn about Pietersfontein right?

Anyway, it is still a lovely town!! With lovely rocky shores as Colleen once commented.

the annoying soccer fan

2008-12-01T18:53:00.000+02:00

If you have ever sat in bus, taxi, train, plane or whatever mode of transport that requires that you share you space with relative strangers, you might have encountered him/her. To be fair, I have only ever met male ones but since I am an equal-opportunity blogger, I aknowledge that female ones do exist as well and they are just as annoying. Yes, I am talking about the annoying soccer fans. They come in all shapes and sizes, colours and creed and wear "their" team's soccer kit in public. Most of them are not very athletic, with obesity being as it is, but they wear sporty clothes nonetheless... be it Orlando Pirates, Chiefs, Chelsea or whatever else. I prefer the one in their soccer kits/gear (I dunno what to call them) because they are easily avoidable. Spot one in the bus and I go seat as far away from them as possible, if it's after a big match then I catch the next bus. Surely being late is a small price to pay... But the tricky part comes when they are not wearing their sports attire and look just like the rest of us and before you know it, you are spending the rest of your two hour flight sitting next to a guy/girl who assumes that u give a toss about last night's match and the "offiside" and "freekick" and what not. What is it about soccer fans that makes them assume that you are one of them? I mean it really doesnt help to politely answer "no I do not watch soccer" they just continue talking your ear off about the match and all the boring details that they feel are of national importance that they feel, I (the declared non-fan) should know. I mean, the audasity!!! It's not just soccer though, it happens with rugby, cricket, and all other sports. But the soccer fans are the most annoying and with 2010 coming swiftly along, there is no escaping them... the horror!!!

sun setting in the middle-of-nowhere

2008-11-28T10:33:00.001+02:00

The nice thing about sunsets here is that there are no skyscrapers anywhere to block my view.

Illiterate skills @ Zula on Long Str

2008-11-17T16:04:00.000+02:00

Compromise.

That is what this night was all about for me. I really really wanted to go and see the Illiterate Skills performance on this night and as you can see from the pictures, I managed to get there. But the problem was I had two wonderful guests (for the purposes of this piece i shall call them "the Joburgers")that I needed to entertain. While we may be old friends and share everything, music was not one of our shared past-times.

I love hip hop (and it loves me back hahahhaha) and they do not. So we had to compromise. Or rather they had to compromise. So I took them to Long str which is rather dead on a Wednesday night and we eventually landed at Zula, because it was open (what are the chances?)

There was an open mic poetry gig called Voices. The atmosphere was great and we had money for drinks and a cab home, so really things were looking up for us that night. After Voices, Illeterate Skills came on and the party continued. The Joburgers were having fun. All was good with the world again.

Good advice

2008-11-17T15:26:00.001+02:00

FW:FW....delete

2008-11-14T10:22:00.000+02:00

I'm sure you have seen the above in your e-mail inbox before. If you are anything like me, then you immediately press the "delete" button. I really don't like receiving forwarded mail. Especially the ones with graphics of flying angels or jokes (they are never funny). I always hesitate to give out my e-mail address to people I just met because more often that not, they will forward me something. My sister (bless her pretty face) had a penchant for sending me forwarded mail, until I admitted to her that I did not read any of them. A couple of friends are still sending me, but I haven't told them that i do not actually read it, I don't have the heart. So I reply with the mandotory "thanks" or send out a fresh email telling then something useful they need to know (I think that is why e-mails were invented). It's bad enough that women do it, but what possesses a grown man to forward all these fruity chain-mail of the "if u don't send this within two minutes, you will run of luck" variety? What is this world coming to?

my new obsession of the week...graffiti

2008-10-27T15:07:00.000+02:00

Faith47

Faith47, mark10ne

I take great pleasure in writing about the mundane. People are too serious these days. Conversations have become so boring around the country, with every second person giving their psudo-political alalysis of everything from Jacob Zuma to Barack Obama and the looming recession. It's like everyone has decided that it is cool to be a bore and talk about politics. I find it boring and it bores me to even write about it.

Instead I am putting up pictures I took of some graffiti art in the area I now reside. I take a long walk every morning just so I can walk past this wall (and because I really need the exercise) and this week I had my camera on hand and was able to take pics of the wall.

With the first picture I tried to get that "through the prison bars feel"by taking the picture from the other side of the fence and failed dismally (as you can see). Because the bars ended up blocking out large chunks of the wall and I was standing too far from the wall. But it was worth a shot.

The second shot is a little clearer, I will try to get more pics and post them on here. I think while everyone is obsessing about the economy and politics, my new obsession will be to take pictures of graffiti. And this post is dedicated to Blaqdust86, for sorta like getting me to start noticing graffiti art for its beauty!

the hills- Kirstenbosch botanical gardens

2008-10-16T08:53:00.001+02:00

I am aware that this looks nothing like the botanical gardens, that is because it isn't. This is on the other side where I work, along with other tree-huggers amongst the trees and all things natural. We do have a beautiful building or two but this view on the way up is way prettier.

my view is better than yours

2008-10-15T16:01:00.000+02:00

I was making my way to the office, up this really steep hill at SANBI. It takes me about 15minutes to walk from the gate (where I get dropped off by the bus). Today was one of those few days when I didn't mind the walk coz the sun was shining (which hardly ever happens in the Republic of Cape Town) I now wish I was based here all year, it's so beautiful.

Carlos Mombeli and Prisoners of Strange

2008-10-15T10:24:00.000+02:00

Unfortunately by connection is too ancient for me to upload the video of them performing :(

This video was taken by your's truely (which explains the sub-standard-quality) at the Pan African Space Station event. This performance took place at the Slave Church on Long Street in Cape Town.

Lifestlye SA festival- Celebrating Black

2008-10-13T12:11:00.000+02:00

The Festival was held at the Kenilworth Race course and I went through on Saturday to go check it out. They had a line-up that included comedians, poets, musicians, panel discussions as well as money game shows (don't ask). In sticking to the theme of "celebrating black", I arrived a little late and missed the opening. Lucky for me they repeated it late (because lots of other people arrived much later than I did, so technically I was early) in the afternoon and I got to see the poetry section as well as comedian Tumi Morake (whom I had missed earlier). Another comedian, Eugene Khoza, performed and Stuart Taylor (you guessed it, he is also a comedian) was the host. I am telling you, the comedians are taking over, forget what you've heard. Then we had panel discussions on BEE (Black Economic Empowerment), property and success. The first two discussions were kinda ok, the men and ladies did look rather dashing in their nice suits, glasses and sounded so smart using big words while the rest of us pretended to be interested. The last discussion on success was badly timed. I mean, the last thing you want to hear at 19h30 on a Saturday evening is three people discussing how wonderful Stellenbosch University is and how the middle class is suffering from a case of BEE-induced "affluenza"...*yawn*. The real reason why we all sat through all that was so that we can see HHP, Jimmy Dludlu and Ringo Madlingozi perform, and they didn't disappoint. Although, hearing Ringo perform live did bring back bad memories of my med-student roomie playing his music when I was trying to sleep. I took a couple of bad pictures for your pleasure, enjoy!! Ringo Madlingozi in all his glory, I can't hate though. Although i missed most of his performance, I was singing along at some point. Hip Hop Pantsula (hhp) a.k.a Jabba invited Jimmy Dludlu diring his set and they gave a killer performance. Jimmy Dludlu was amazing. I am now a fan. After being force-fed his music by my dad and sister, i enjoyed listening to him on my own terms and he is great. (wait till my sister hears this lol)

Part of the Poerty delight set, Metabolism and Xoliswa during the opening sequence. Zandile Dlamini doing her poem "Put your gun down". Mbali Vilakazi closing the show with her piece, "love says"

yet another cooking expedition gone almost right

2008-10-08T10:57:00.000+02:00

I have been busy brushing up on my cooking skills. It has been very fruitful thus far. Im a few dishes away from that dinner conversation where I can proudly proclaim why I prefer basil in my sauce, as opposed to coriander. Please bear in mind that these are terms I have heard Jamie Oliver use on his show and I am yet to find out what they look like since I have absolutely no interest in cooking, but that's a story for another time. back to my cooking expedition, so I made rice and meat because I thought they were the easiest to make. I applied my age-old-never-fail cooking philosophy which simply states "when in doubt..boil". Essentially that's what cooking is right? So I made the rice and it was perfect (no seriously folks it was). Then boiled my meat and poured spices and what not. I was pretty chuffed with myself, it smelled great and didn't look like death warmed up. Then I had a bright idea. I decided to use the pepper grinder to add a bit of flavour to my dish. So I turned it and all those round little peppers ended up toppling into my pot because the grinder wasn't screwed on properly (that's my story and I'm sticking to it). I managed to remove most of them and I added some tomato sauce and Mrs Balls chutney in an effort to try and salvage the meal. When that didn't work, I added more salt and left the damn thing to simmer and cook in its own juices like Jamie Oliver said because he should know. A while later I had my meal and it was not bad at all, at least that's what my friend said as she was spitting bits of peppers out of her mouth...

hermanus Whale Festival in pictures

2008-09-29T15:35:00.001+02:00

No that is not a hurricane, but it is a beautiful shot (even if I do say so myself). This is down at the Old Habour, where we were watching a reggae band perform. the cool thing was that the stage was on the other side of that body of water u see in front of the two police officers.

I took this picture from a restaurant/bar called Shimmis. it had the most beautiful view of the tent area as well of the sea. Clealy my aim was a bit off but im sure think u get the idea Taken from the same place, after a few drinks ..and what do u know...the picture quality was improving with every SoCo n Lime :) I managed yet another shot before i got tired of the flashing light reflecting on the glass windows and into my face.

Ah yes, what would a Sustainable lifestyle Expo at the hermanus Whale Festival be without some new age spirtitual whoosh-whoosh...I never got to asking what Sahaja yoga was though...sounds sore And yes before I could say Maize meal I was signing petitions to have genetically modified food labelled. i must say the guy with the petition wore an interesting jersey, think of a chess board in different shades of blue, but the block were huge...

The marimba band was amazing, loved them!

Don't forget to save

2008-09-29T14:07:00.000+02:00

I think u already have an idea of when i am going with this. Yep, it happened again, I spend the whole morning typing my ass off only to have the lights go out without me having saved a single word. And then the person I am working with on this project walks into my office with a huge smile on her face, proudly proclaiming that she had saved all her work just before the lights went out. I on the other hand had not been that wise, so all my work was lost. But she didn't need to know that right? of course not. So I have been typing at the speed of light trying to catch up. it really doesn't help that I was on a bit of a break last week, so I am still in Holiday-mode. It also doesn't help that we are running behind schedule and i have a few days left here before my tree-hugging (conservation to you) duties take me somewhere else.

The prodical roommate departs for greener pastures

2008-09-18T13:44:00.000+02:00

Just as I was beginning to warm to the idea of coming home to a mini-Ringo Madlingozi concert and a bit of gospel thrown in there for good measure, the prodical room-mates left me. But she couldn't have chosen a more fitting day to tell me this. You see my medical student roomie is a really really nice girl. She smiles, laughs, listens to my bitching and moaning and of course likes music. It might not be a good thing for her to be listening to Ringo Madlingozi at mid-night but its music nonetheless. In fact I was beginning to warm to the idea of having mini-gospel concerts at not-so-Godly hours of the night but sadly she is leaving me. You see I have been threatening her with the promise of a home-cooked meal since I arrived at the commune. last Sunday, I told her that I would finally cook for her, I mean If Nigella and jamie can do it...Tuesday night arrived and I cooked for my roomie and she loved the food. Then she "suddenly" got an sms with a promise of Greener pastures somewhere in Observatory, and i came back Wednesday morning and medical student roomie was gone. I know what you thinking, and yes i also suspect that she left because of the food. She is probably sitting there in medical student haven (where she not resides) with other medical students and discussing the Medula Oblingata or whatever medical students talk about when they alone. And Im stuck in the chandelier-lit room with a suspicious urge to put on a mini-Ringo concert.

random pictures from my archive

2008-09-15T14:29:00.000+02:00

Here I am being a time-waster of note at work. You know how it is, browsing the internet, pretending to be busy while I am actually updating my blog but for work purposes this counts as "RESEARCH",

I will admit to not having an actual archive. I just like the way it sounds. Since my last camera got stolen with my memory card in it, I have had to rely on the pictures I have in my "sent" e-mail box and those I put up on facebook. So since I was going through them anyway, i might as well put them up here just in case something happens to my e-mail address...

Ps: i am extremely bored, so will not be explaining to you where these pictures were taken and why I decided to put them here or why this post is a bit all over the place.

The shape of things to come

2008-09-11T13:23:00.000+02:00

In the not too distant future, one Jacob Zuma will be sitting in the Union Buildings running the show. Yes, I have accepted it now. I cannot change it, so I am going to get over it already. But while we wait with bated breath for this eventuality, his court case is continuing in KZN. This means that there are people who are getting ready to go stage a night-virgil (I hope that's how it is spelt) outside the court in solidarity with Jacob. very touching indeed. But some of those people happen to be teachers who are busy with exams. That should be reason enough for them to miss out (just this once) but no, not our Sadtu (teachers union). Instead they are asking for exams to be moved in order for them to attend the night-virgill ...I'm beginning to wonder as to what happens there..what do they get up besides signing Umshini-wam and dancing a little bit? it has to be big if they want EXAMS to be moved so that they can have a day off. maybe I'm sitting here nagging when i shoul be making my way to KZN for a lekker jol outside the court-house...hmmm maybe but highly unlikely So if this court case continues while Zuma is in office, then maybe the court dates will be marked off as special holidays on the calendar...is this really the shape of thing to come? its not looking good for the media, justice system and now the education dept?? what's next?

please stop the music

2008-09-08T10:12:00.000+02:00

So my criss-crossing around the Cape has landed me in a commune, somewhere near a train station. I like the place, it's got character. the place is owned by an Indian guy, who lives with his family and shares the rather large house with the rest of us dilinquents. So, there is the smell of insence upstairs, my room has a large chandelier that lights up like a freeking Christmas Tree..like I said lots and lots of charecter in this house. I am sharing my space with a medical student. She is from a place far far away (can't remember the name) and pretty naive about life in the big city but that's a story for another day. Then there are other UCT students roaming around the house, but my hopes for all-night partying were dashed as soon as I met everyone. The only kind of party one can possibly hope for among this crop of future academeic assassins, is one involving a hymm book and a couple of verses from the Bible. You can imagine what it must be like to be a dilinquent in a house full of "serious" students, not fun. Needless to say that I was subjected to a marathon session of gospel music and Ringo Madlingozi on a SUnday night. At first I was like "how bad can this be" and tried to listen, but 3 hours later I was about ready to kill someone. I'm sure Ringo is a nice chap, and his music is beautiful. But at 3am on a Monday morning, the last thing I wanna be hearing is "Dolly" or "ngiyagodola" when I am trying to get my sleep on.

the new paparazzi for non-celebrities

2008-08-26T16:11:00.000+02:00

Now that everyone and their mommy's friend has a camera phone, there is nowhere for us to hide. I will admit to having a good laugh when I page through pictures of celebrities caught in uncompromising situations in Cosmopolitan and Heat magazine, but that's to be expected...they are celebs afterall. So why the hell do people who classify themselves as "friends" get off on taking really unflaterring pics of each other and posting them on the internet. Surely a picture of a drunk student puking in a parking-lot is not as valuable as one of Britney Spears doing the same thing? I find this trend ugly and disturbing. One of the conclusions i have come up with is that it's all in the name of fun, but at the expense of someones dignity?... Another conclusion is that people will go out of their way to embarass you just because they feel like it... Whatever happened to the days when you can just get wasted with a bunch of friends and not worry about it making an appearance on "facebook", life was so much easier when all that mattered was your parents not finding out. now u can walk into a coffee shop and have the guy behind the counter remember you as "that chick" in that "video". So I now think that i should release that music video afterall, so people can pay for my ugly pictures...and maybe just maybe, i will be able to understand what drives people to such cheerful cruelty, but then again I might be rich and famous and might not actually care.

Missed my big break...

2008-08-14T09:36:00.000+02:00

So there I was at the Eco-Expo dwelling in the army tent for two whole days, all in the interest of networking with the tree-huggers and their children and whomever else stumbled into the Overberg Eco-Expo. I will admit that after spending the whole Friday on my feet surrounded by noisy kids who descended on our stall, I will be rather content if I never saw another primary school kid in my whole entire life...how primary school teachers endure this torture is beyong me. Anyway so Friday came and went and I was tired, because lazy people like me are not meant to spend a Friday standing around a stall and smilling, being polite and informative...I would much rather have been lazing around the beach with a drink in hand. While I was in the army tent and walking around to see what other people's stalls looked like, (side thought: don't you hate it when someone upstages u with their wonderful eco-friendly stall?) There were talks going on in the main hall. As I was later to find out, there were two particular people there whose talks I missed and I had no idea who they were until after the expo was finished. Dr Guy Midgley and Dr Philip Llyod were in a team of scientists and global warming experts who shared the 2007 Nobel Peace Price with that shine-stealing Al Gore (of inconvinient truth fame). So I had two Nobel Peace price winners right under my nose who I could have interviewed and sold that story off to make myself big bucks and hopefully get that job at Aljazeera :) But Alas, i was sitting in the army tent, nearly getting blown off by the wind and stuffing my face with pancakes and hotdogs while the Nobel Price winners were wondering where that potential super journalist lurking around the bundus was hiding...ok so maybe they weren't really thinking that, but they could have...

oh and then I saw the rainbow

2008-08-04T16:44:00.000+02:00

Of course I had to blog about it. Was driving around the bundus, when the rain stopped and there it was. Quickly grabbed my camera and snapped up this beatiful pic of the rainbow straching accross the sea. Nature is...