Sunday, 31 July 2011
Saturday, 30 July 2011
How to quit a friendship
This is an idea that has been bothering me for a while: one can break-up with a boy/girlfriend, one can separate from or divorce one's husband/wife, one can quit one's job, one can cancel one's gym subscription, one can end almost any contract.
But not friendship. There is no real way of breaking up with a friend, of saying "I can have no more of this in my life", without seeming like a complete drama llama. And with friendships it could always be too early to end it. There is always the possibility of the friendship just being at a rough spot, at being stuck in limbo, and one would not want to lose out on someone's role in one's life for that alone. Everything can change.
However, it could also change for the worse. People move, people evolve, and yes, people do change. After a while of having no interaction, of only stalking one another on facebook, there is just nothing left to say.
I would like it if in life, one could move someone from the friends circle to the acquaintance circle. I would like it if I could tell you, listen, you have disappointed me one too many times. I no longer want to be part of your life. Friendship is a two-way street and I seem to be in a cul-de-sac with ours.
Naturally, you would have the same right. You could say, listen, you and I are no more. I eliminate you from my life. It was nice while it lasted. It's not you, it's me. I need to move on. We are just not good for each other.
Now I ask you, reader, how do you break up with your friend? Because I want it to be known. I want the friend to know why I am leaving him/her. Why the time invested is not worth the outcome any more. I don't want us to just drift further apart and then have to exchange awkward "Happy Birthday"-smses or have to ask him/her how he/she is when we do meet again, if ever.
I want to tell the person: listen, I tried. I tried communication, but you blocked all channels. I tried giving you space, but there was no return from it. I tried moving on, and just ignoring past attachment, but somehow, a clean break would be preferable. I want to know that everyone is alright separately.
I think leaving a friend is so hard because friends are the family of choice. And one does not want to have made the wrong choice. Furthermore, a family is for life. So perhaps the chosen family should be, too. I expect my friends to be there, just as I am for them.
Perhaps the crux is that I should accept it is over and not make a big deal out of it. Just move on. Just accept that some friendships are momentary, and appreciate the moment.
So maybe I will tell you this. Maybe you will read this. If you do, know that it was a pleasure having you in my life, that you were integral to my youth, but that now, I wish you a happy future, sans moi. I am placing you in the past. Haha, I think you already categorized me there.
.
But not friendship. There is no real way of breaking up with a friend, of saying "I can have no more of this in my life", without seeming like a complete drama llama. And with friendships it could always be too early to end it. There is always the possibility of the friendship just being at a rough spot, at being stuck in limbo, and one would not want to lose out on someone's role in one's life for that alone. Everything can change.
However, it could also change for the worse. People move, people evolve, and yes, people do change. After a while of having no interaction, of only stalking one another on facebook, there is just nothing left to say.
I would like it if in life, one could move someone from the friends circle to the acquaintance circle. I would like it if I could tell you, listen, you have disappointed me one too many times. I no longer want to be part of your life. Friendship is a two-way street and I seem to be in a cul-de-sac with ours.
Naturally, you would have the same right. You could say, listen, you and I are no more. I eliminate you from my life. It was nice while it lasted. It's not you, it's me. I need to move on. We are just not good for each other.
Now I ask you, reader, how do you break up with your friend? Because I want it to be known. I want the friend to know why I am leaving him/her. Why the time invested is not worth the outcome any more. I don't want us to just drift further apart and then have to exchange awkward "Happy Birthday"-smses or have to ask him/her how he/she is when we do meet again, if ever.
I want to tell the person: listen, I tried. I tried communication, but you blocked all channels. I tried giving you space, but there was no return from it. I tried moving on, and just ignoring past attachment, but somehow, a clean break would be preferable. I want to know that everyone is alright separately.
I think leaving a friend is so hard because friends are the family of choice. And one does not want to have made the wrong choice. Furthermore, a family is for life. So perhaps the chosen family should be, too. I expect my friends to be there, just as I am for them.
Perhaps the crux is that I should accept it is over and not make a big deal out of it. Just move on. Just accept that some friendships are momentary, and appreciate the moment.
So maybe I will tell you this. Maybe you will read this. If you do, know that it was a pleasure having you in my life, that you were integral to my youth, but that now, I wish you a happy future, sans moi. I am placing you in the past. Haha, I think you already categorized me there.
.
Saturday, 23 July 2011
I and the world
cherish your solitude. take trains by yourself
to places you have never been. sleep out alone
under the stars. learn how to drive a stick shift.
go so far away that you stop being afraid of not
coming back. say no when you don't want to do
something. say yes if your instincts are strong, even
if everyone around you disagrees. decide whether
you want to be liked or admired. decide if fitting in
is more important than finding out what you're doing here.
believe in kissing.
even ensler
in berlin i used to get on random metro trains and take them to random stops and then find another way back home. i like discovering places on my own. i like knowing that i can go at life alone, that there is no fear of failure, that there is no fear of the unknown.
i think often people are afraid to leave the space, the place they are in, for fear of not making it in the world. there is a comfort to home. there is safety in that which one already knows. and don't get me wrong, any new area is daunting, it is scary being alone and having no support system and knowing no one in case of emergency. here i have people to call if my car won't start or my dog dies ( but Spitzi will live for ever so I'm not too worried about the dog part). but in a completely different place there is so much that could go wrong.
however, it is also exhilarating. it affirms the confidence in the self to have achieved something on your own. and i think it is often rewarded to jump in at the deep end. you find a strength of spirit that you never expected of yourself. one should reward the little achievements of buying a baguette in french for the first time, of making new friends, of going on excursions in your own neighbourhood, of moving forward instead of being caught in comfort.
the idea of risk does not have to be life-threatening. i don't want to go base jumping or eat that killer-fish that needs to be prepared by licensed chefs. but one should be willing to try something new. take a different road home. listen to country music for a change. accept that your belief is not the only viewpoint. do your hair differently. take time to see a world, differently.
to me, everything is stranger than fiction. the worlds in my head are just as fascinating as the real one. one just needs to look at it sometimes to realize that every day is something of value.
*perhaps you noticed, but Spitzi is the only thing in capitals. that is because he got old very suddenly and i want to somehow make him stand out for a second.
to places you have never been. sleep out alone
under the stars. learn how to drive a stick shift.
go so far away that you stop being afraid of not
coming back. say no when you don't want to do
something. say yes if your instincts are strong, even
if everyone around you disagrees. decide whether
you want to be liked or admired. decide if fitting in
is more important than finding out what you're doing here.
believe in kissing.
even ensler
in berlin i used to get on random metro trains and take them to random stops and then find another way back home. i like discovering places on my own. i like knowing that i can go at life alone, that there is no fear of failure, that there is no fear of the unknown.
i think often people are afraid to leave the space, the place they are in, for fear of not making it in the world. there is a comfort to home. there is safety in that which one already knows. and don't get me wrong, any new area is daunting, it is scary being alone and having no support system and knowing no one in case of emergency. here i have people to call if my car won't start or my dog dies ( but Spitzi will live for ever so I'm not too worried about the dog part). but in a completely different place there is so much that could go wrong.
however, it is also exhilarating. it affirms the confidence in the self to have achieved something on your own. and i think it is often rewarded to jump in at the deep end. you find a strength of spirit that you never expected of yourself. one should reward the little achievements of buying a baguette in french for the first time, of making new friends, of going on excursions in your own neighbourhood, of moving forward instead of being caught in comfort.
the idea of risk does not have to be life-threatening. i don't want to go base jumping or eat that killer-fish that needs to be prepared by licensed chefs. but one should be willing to try something new. take a different road home. listen to country music for a change. accept that your belief is not the only viewpoint. do your hair differently. take time to see a world, differently.
to me, everything is stranger than fiction. the worlds in my head are just as fascinating as the real one. one just needs to look at it sometimes to realize that every day is something of value.
*perhaps you noticed, but Spitzi is the only thing in capitals. that is because he got old very suddenly and i want to somehow make him stand out for a second.
Friday, 22 July 2011
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Giving and Taking
We are redoing our kitchen, which is an enormous amount of work. In the process, we are throwing out all the old cupboards and linoleum flooring from the 70s. We are also getting rid of some of that Tupperware that's been in action since before I was born. So basically, much of the old is being relegated to the trash.
When we went to the gym the other day, a German acquaintance said that here if you do not want something, it is easy: you just put it outside your house and some pedestrian will surely take it. Now it is true that because of the poverty in our country, there are many people who are less-fortunate and to whom your trash might be quite valuable. On Tuesdays, when the municipality comes to pick up the refuse, there are many people going from house to house, sifting trough the waste.
I know how it is to change the trash-bags in a public place, how disgusting it is to find it open and leaking strange fluids, and the odour of old nappies.. horrible. So I have a great respect for people who try to seek out a living from others' waste.
What bothered me was this man's dismissal of their struggle for existence. He seemed condescending, as though he were saying, "Well, back in the First World, we also put our trash outside, but nobody wants it. And that is how it is supposed to be. Nobody should want your old stuff. That is beneath a cultured society."
I kind of like the idea that what I cannot use, somebody else can.
If you read the current National Geographic (July 2011, with Cleopatra on the front), with reference to the soon-to-be 7 billion that the planet will have to sustain, there is an article on how to feed all of us and how much food is wasted annually by the consumers. For instance, in the US, almost half of the poultry produced (perhaps I should rather say raised? Or grown?) is wasted. So just under half of all birds killed for food lost their life needlessly. You can read more about the 7 Billion.
Also interesting in the same magazine is the eradication of regional species, in favour of higher yielding plants and animals. Just look at the what we see as potatoes and what genius potatoes grow in Peru ( with names like "Guinea Pig Fetus" or "Makes the daughter-in-law cry").
So I think the silly first world should stop flying in their apples from New Zealand and their steaks from Japan and actually consider what can be grown locally. Perhaps the problem is that they no longer have the space or the climate to support the growth of food that can sustain their population. Perhaps the third world producers should reconsider their placement in the power-scale, and realize that the power lies here, with us, with having the land and the weather to farm sustainably for the future.
We should take more responsibility for what we buy, instead of accepting that everything is available on a shelf at the Woolworths or Pick 'n Pay. Where does that chicken breast come from? What if everyone ate less meat, and saw the death of an animal for our consumption as a sacrifice, as something to be appreciated and as something that is only for special occasions.
But I digress. So the kitchen is almost finished, everyone has taken what they could find a use for. It bothers me when wealthy people give their old clothes to their cleaning ladies to sell, and then expect half of the money. Give it to her, to use. Give it to a charity. Give it away to someone who is more in need than you are. You can do without those R50. Maybe to someone else that could get their family through another day. Keep what you need, but do not become too selfish to see the needs of other. Not everyone has been as fortunate as us.
Haha, I know lately I have been rambling on about how one should give and see the suffering of others, but I really feel as though we are all sinking into this hole of self-obsession and that if the attitude of humanity in general to one another does not change, we leave an even worse legacy. We already have to deal with how previous generations ruined the planet, and I do not want my sister's children (at the moment I plan to have none) to one day look at us and say : how could you not have changed? How could you have fucked up so badly? And I don't just want to say: well, because we are a selfish kind.
.
When we went to the gym the other day, a German acquaintance said that here if you do not want something, it is easy: you just put it outside your house and some pedestrian will surely take it. Now it is true that because of the poverty in our country, there are many people who are less-fortunate and to whom your trash might be quite valuable. On Tuesdays, when the municipality comes to pick up the refuse, there are many people going from house to house, sifting trough the waste.
I know how it is to change the trash-bags in a public place, how disgusting it is to find it open and leaking strange fluids, and the odour of old nappies.. horrible. So I have a great respect for people who try to seek out a living from others' waste.
What bothered me was this man's dismissal of their struggle for existence. He seemed condescending, as though he were saying, "Well, back in the First World, we also put our trash outside, but nobody wants it. And that is how it is supposed to be. Nobody should want your old stuff. That is beneath a cultured society."
I kind of like the idea that what I cannot use, somebody else can.
If you read the current National Geographic (July 2011, with Cleopatra on the front), with reference to the soon-to-be 7 billion that the planet will have to sustain, there is an article on how to feed all of us and how much food is wasted annually by the consumers. For instance, in the US, almost half of the poultry produced (perhaps I should rather say raised? Or grown?) is wasted. So just under half of all birds killed for food lost their life needlessly. You can read more about the 7 Billion.
Also interesting in the same magazine is the eradication of regional species, in favour of higher yielding plants and animals. Just look at the what we see as potatoes and what genius potatoes grow in Peru ( with names like "Guinea Pig Fetus" or "Makes the daughter-in-law cry").
So I think the silly first world should stop flying in their apples from New Zealand and their steaks from Japan and actually consider what can be grown locally. Perhaps the problem is that they no longer have the space or the climate to support the growth of food that can sustain their population. Perhaps the third world producers should reconsider their placement in the power-scale, and realize that the power lies here, with us, with having the land and the weather to farm sustainably for the future.
We should take more responsibility for what we buy, instead of accepting that everything is available on a shelf at the Woolworths or Pick 'n Pay. Where does that chicken breast come from? What if everyone ate less meat, and saw the death of an animal for our consumption as a sacrifice, as something to be appreciated and as something that is only for special occasions.
But I digress. So the kitchen is almost finished, everyone has taken what they could find a use for. It bothers me when wealthy people give their old clothes to their cleaning ladies to sell, and then expect half of the money. Give it to her, to use. Give it to a charity. Give it away to someone who is more in need than you are. You can do without those R50. Maybe to someone else that could get their family through another day. Keep what you need, but do not become too selfish to see the needs of other. Not everyone has been as fortunate as us.
Haha, I know lately I have been rambling on about how one should give and see the suffering of others, but I really feel as though we are all sinking into this hole of self-obsession and that if the attitude of humanity in general to one another does not change, we leave an even worse legacy. We already have to deal with how previous generations ruined the planet, and I do not want my sister's children (at the moment I plan to have none) to one day look at us and say : how could you not have changed? How could you have fucked up so badly? And I don't just want to say: well, because we are a selfish kind.
.
Monday, 18 July 2011
Padkos
SOOS ALREEDS GESE, EK KAN NIE WERKLIK GOED IN DIÉ TAAL SPEL NIE. Vergewe my foute.
Ons is op pad plaas toe en trek vroeg weg. Die stede lê slaapend, die kar se verwarming gaan aan toe die koue oggend onder 4°C val. Geen sonskyn skyn so vroeg, geen karligte is naby. Dis is ‘n vryheid op die pad, sonder kwaai motoriste gewoond aan ure se sit in spitsverkeer. Die eerste musiekmengsel stroom uit my ipod, ekstra gister saamgestel vir die gemak van my ma se ore.
Net buite die stad van goud begin die son opgaan, in tyd vir ‘n tarantaalfamilie om oor die pad te skarrel voor ek hulle tref. Ons ry lekker nou, my ouma sit agter en is in beheer van die padkos. Sy waak daaroor soos ‘n leeuwyfie oor haar prooi, en ons sien nie ‘n krummel nie. My ouma dink ‘n slaaiblaar is ‘n volle middagete en waardeer nie die soetgoed en happies wat saamry nie.
Die keer ry ons nie reguit na Kroonstad rigting Senekal nie, maar gaan maak ‘n draai by Golden Gate, waar die lig en die wind en die reuke spelend ‘n sinfonie vir die sinne saamstel. Bokkies skuil teen die berge, maar ek sien niks nie. Net my ma se aarendoë spot alles vir myle. Selfs die Sterkfontein Dam sien ek nie dadelik nie, maar toe val my oë oor die spieëlglad blou water wat agter die dam en die dale wegkruip.
Ons kies die N3 rigting Durban en stop in Clarens om ontbyt te eet. Dis die dag van die troue in Engeland, almal sit vasgeplak voor die televisie in die kafee. Ek dink die bruid se borste lyk nogals spits in die trourok en verstaan nie hoekom in die voormalige kolonië nog altyd ‘n obsessie met dié troue bestaan nie. Is dit die hoop van liefde en romantiese ideës van prinsesse en prinse wat vir ewig gelukkig gaan saamleef? Of is dit net om iets te sien wat mens self nooit sal bereik nie? Snaaks hoe al die wit mense sit en kyk en eet, en almal wat daar werk swart is en nie die spektakel bekyk nie. Wat beteken royalty in die 21de eeu? Die koningshuise van Denemark, Swede, Spanje, Nederland, etc.? Wat is julle funksie, vra ek. Dalk wil die mensdom net ‘n ideal hê om homself/ haarself mëe te vergelyk.
Ons ry agterpaie Moria toe, maar dit het gereen en die pad is weggespoel.Ons stadskarretjie sukkel in hierdie made-for-4x4 gate. Moses kom haal ons en lei ons deur die koeie en deur die veld. Wilde koeie. Ek gedra myself soos ‘n stadskind en skreeu op hulle, dit is vreeslik baie pret want hulle kyk net verbaas terug.
Ouma spring in Moses se bakkie en jaag deur die veld se hoe gras en modder, ons sukkel sukkel agterna. Met haar 82 (?) jare se sy vir ons sy moes maar bestuur het, sy sien ons kon nie bybly nie. As jy wil ry moet jy ry, ou matie.
Die huis lyk soos altyd, maar ons is poegaai en wil na ‘n ete wat ons saamgery het van die Snorstad af net slaap. My tannie is nog nie eers uit Pretoria weg nie en dis al amper donker. My ouma is onrustig en stap die heeltyd deur die huis, elke voetstap word weerkaats deur die planke. Sy praat met ons of haarself, ek weet nie. Die heeltyd sien sy ligte aankom, maar ek dink nie die ligte beweeg nie. Laat kom tante en neefies en niggie. Honde ook. Ek maak as of ek te vas slaap om hulle te help uitpak, dit was simpel van hulle om in die nag na ‘n huis in die donkerte van die Vrystaat te ry.
Dis lekker om daar wakker te word, en om die berg uit te klim en op soektog te gaan na boesmantekeninge terwyl mens teen rotse en bome moet afklim. Die sonsondergang en ‘n lekker biertjie laat ‘n mens die aldag van die stad vinnig vergeet.
‘n Ander neef kom , ek’t hom laas by sy broer se roudiens gesien, jare gelede. Ons kuier lekker saam, ek as enigste meisie moet my geslag verteenwordig en hou ook tot in die middernaglike ure uit. Hulle dink aanvanklik ek is van lotjie getik toe ek wil he hulle moet met my met lig teken, maar toe hulle drie die resultate op die kamera se skerm sien vang hulle vuur en gaan mal met flitse en bont plastiek.
Die volgende dag pak ons die pad terug aan, dit is weer ‘n gesukkel tussen moddergate en grasse deur. My tannie vergeet die broodjies wat ons gemaak het vir hulle in die yskas, so by die pitstop deël ons ons drie broodjies tussen sewe. My neef maak die kar se water oop nadat ons amper 3 ure gery het en die stoom brand die helfte van sy gesig. Simpel as mens die man wil wees sonder om te dink, ne. Almal is ietwat gespanne hierna, en ons ry maar aan met ouma. Gelukkig is die Astros voor as versnapering. Ons kom laat by die huis aan, maar gelukkig sonder verdere insidente.
.
Friday, 15 July 2011
Feelmuseum
Croatia has a Museum of Broken Relationships, which exhibits the remnants of failed loves. By contributing to the museum, a person might get over their loss and hardship through creating something new: it is understandable, relate-able art.
The museum's site states:
"Whatever the motivation for donating personal belongings – be it sheer exhibitionism, therapeutic relief, or simple curiosity – people embraced the idea of exhibiting their love legacy as a sort of a ritual, a solemn ceremony. Our societies oblige us with our marriages, funerals, and even graduation farewells, but deny us any formal recognition of the demise of a relationship, despite its strong emotional effect. In the words of Roland Barthes in A Lover's Discourse: 'Every passion, ultimately, has its spectator... (there is) no amorous oblation without a final theatre.' "
If you have anything to contribute, be it shoes, a lock of hair, or a love letter, you can find the information on their website.
I wonder if parting with an object truly helps. But one must admit that most people are hoarders and cling to anything that they see as representative of an experience. Just think about the rise and rise of digital photography: we have a need to document every moment of our lives to make sure that we do not miss something. But I think that in capturing the moment, we miss being in it. I would rather have the memory of an instance than an image to which I have no real relationship. maybe we do not trust our memory enough. Memories can be changed and altered, memories are made by your own selection as to what to save and what to discard.
I like these sad stories. It proves that we all share the need for love, that we all suffer at the hands of love, but also that there is hope for moving on. For seeing the relationship for what it was: a period of time, an experience, but not something to pine after for years to come.
There is a nice BBC video about the travelling exhibit, watch it here.
Perhaps the museum will bring its treasures to your doorstep soon. Perhaps your own object will be exhibited, or perhaps you can relate to those on display. In the end it is all about appreciation and love, is it not ?!
.
The museum's site states:
"Whatever the motivation for donating personal belongings – be it sheer exhibitionism, therapeutic relief, or simple curiosity – people embraced the idea of exhibiting their love legacy as a sort of a ritual, a solemn ceremony. Our societies oblige us with our marriages, funerals, and even graduation farewells, but deny us any formal recognition of the demise of a relationship, despite its strong emotional effect. In the words of Roland Barthes in A Lover's Discourse: 'Every passion, ultimately, has its spectator... (there is) no amorous oblation without a final theatre.' "
If you have anything to contribute, be it shoes, a lock of hair, or a love letter, you can find the information on their website.
maybe a champagne bottle, like this one from a Turkish woman.
This is the exhibit at a mall in Istanbul. Check out the New York Times article
I wonder if parting with an object truly helps. But one must admit that most people are hoarders and cling to anything that they see as representative of an experience. Just think about the rise and rise of digital photography: we have a need to document every moment of our lives to make sure that we do not miss something. But I think that in capturing the moment, we miss being in it. I would rather have the memory of an instance than an image to which I have no real relationship. maybe we do not trust our memory enough. Memories can be changed and altered, memories are made by your own selection as to what to save and what to discard.
I like these sad stories. It proves that we all share the need for love, that we all suffer at the hands of love, but also that there is hope for moving on. For seeing the relationship for what it was: a period of time, an experience, but not something to pine after for years to come.
There is a nice BBC video about the travelling exhibit, watch it here.
Perhaps the museum will bring its treasures to your doorstep soon. Perhaps your own object will be exhibited, or perhaps you can relate to those on display. In the end it is all about appreciation and love, is it not ?!
.
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
This is Africa
What does MoMA stand for? What art is exhibited in the Pinakothek der Moderne in Munich? Or in the Guggenheim? Modern Art. Art is constantly being categorized into a definition, because somehow it elludes it. Exxpressionism, Abstraction, Refiguration, Post-Modernism, der Blaue Reiter, Dada, Cubism, etc. All movements are descriptive of specific characteristics attributed to artists and works during a particular period in time.
However, this is not the case when considering African art. African art is just a collection of masks and tribal statues from the dark continent. There is no differentiation made between the Ndebele huts or a traditional mask from Ghana. It seems that Africa is a country, and not a continent consisting of 58 ( with South Sudan, I think) of them . This Western notion of thinking that all Africans, that all cultures and languages and attitudes, are equal, irritates me endlessly. I would be judged for equating Poland with Portugal, or Latvia with Sweden, so please, foreigners, do not think that anywhere is like anywhere else.
On that topic, the endless ranting about racism is also upsetting to me. We might have different skin colours, but we are all of the human race. And this thread of hatred for the other has been woven throughout history: colonizers killing the colonized, be they Aborigine, Indian or African. Furthermore, there is a great hatred within skin-colour as well, with cultures not getting along based on belief rather than on whether they are green or grey.
A blog I follow for the beauty of their wedding photographs, welovepictures , recently shot a wedding in Mpumalanga where the theme was "Colonial Africa". When I hear colonial, I think about oppression and the eradication of local cultures. Also, I think about the history of colonialism. Of how everyone wanted a piece of Africa. How a continent was divided up with complete disregard for the locals. And how this still affects the societies today.
But I do think that in this case, the bride was envisioning the old-worldly beauty of tea-parties, dinner sets, lace, boots, moustaches, leather, the smell of horses and train-tracks on the horizon. The idea probably pertained more to the look of the era and its decadence than to its political implications.
So it irritates me somewhat when words are twisted and a person not given the opportunity to defend their views: Jezebel published an insulted view on the wedding pictures, which you can read here.
If you get angry about this, why is there no backlash to Top Billing Magazine's current cover shoot? It also depicts three men in modernized colonial attire in a colonial setting.
I mean, does this shoot not also show an aspect of colonialism? It is shot at the Royal Livingston in Zambia for God's sake. Is that not the most colonial place one could shoot it at? And yet, there, it is only seen as a fashion shoot.
Every time the safari trend creeps back into fashion with its faux-zebra and -tiger prints, with the shirt-dresses and khaki colours, you too are somehow wearing a more modern take on colonial clothing styles.
When you classify something as 'African' or 'Asian', when you mark a difference between the superiority of your culture to another, when you impose your attitudes and ideas on others, when you support big business over smaller industries, when you do anything where you are subjugating the one to the other you are applying a colonizer's mentality.
So please post-post-modern enraged hipsters, fight for something more than the racist attitudes you read in wedding pictures. Hell, South Africa's population is 80% black. I would expect there to be more black waiters than white ones, especially in a rural setting such as Mpumalanga, simply because there are about 38 Mio. black people and only 4 Mio. white people.
On Monday, 18. July, it will be Mandela Day.
The idea is to spend 67 minutes of your time doing something good for another person, helping out somewhere:
However, this is not the case when considering African art. African art is just a collection of masks and tribal statues from the dark continent. There is no differentiation made between the Ndebele huts or a traditional mask from Ghana. It seems that Africa is a country, and not a continent consisting of 58 ( with South Sudan, I think) of them . This Western notion of thinking that all Africans, that all cultures and languages and attitudes, are equal, irritates me endlessly. I would be judged for equating Poland with Portugal, or Latvia with Sweden, so please, foreigners, do not think that anywhere is like anywhere else.
On that topic, the endless ranting about racism is also upsetting to me. We might have different skin colours, but we are all of the human race. And this thread of hatred for the other has been woven throughout history: colonizers killing the colonized, be they Aborigine, Indian or African. Furthermore, there is a great hatred within skin-colour as well, with cultures not getting along based on belief rather than on whether they are green or grey.
A blog I follow for the beauty of their wedding photographs, welovepictures , recently shot a wedding in Mpumalanga where the theme was "Colonial Africa". When I hear colonial, I think about oppression and the eradication of local cultures. Also, I think about the history of colonialism. Of how everyone wanted a piece of Africa. How a continent was divided up with complete disregard for the locals. And how this still affects the societies today.
But I do think that in this case, the bride was envisioning the old-worldly beauty of tea-parties, dinner sets, lace, boots, moustaches, leather, the smell of horses and train-tracks on the horizon. The idea probably pertained more to the look of the era and its decadence than to its political implications.
So it irritates me somewhat when words are twisted and a person not given the opportunity to defend their views: Jezebel published an insulted view on the wedding pictures, which you can read here.
If you get angry about this, why is there no backlash to Top Billing Magazine's current cover shoot? It also depicts three men in modernized colonial attire in a colonial setting.
I mean, does this shoot not also show an aspect of colonialism? It is shot at the Royal Livingston in Zambia for God's sake. Is that not the most colonial place one could shoot it at? And yet, there, it is only seen as a fashion shoot.
Every time the safari trend creeps back into fashion with its faux-zebra and -tiger prints, with the shirt-dresses and khaki colours, you too are somehow wearing a more modern take on colonial clothing styles.
When you classify something as 'African' or 'Asian', when you mark a difference between the superiority of your culture to another, when you impose your attitudes and ideas on others, when you support big business over smaller industries, when you do anything where you are subjugating the one to the other you are applying a colonizer's mentality.
So please post-post-modern enraged hipsters, fight for something more than the racist attitudes you read in wedding pictures. Hell, South Africa's population is 80% black. I would expect there to be more black waiters than white ones, especially in a rural setting such as Mpumalanga, simply because there are about 38 Mio. black people and only 4 Mio. white people.
On Monday, 18. July, it will be Mandela Day.
The idea is to spend 67 minutes of your time doing something good for another person, helping out somewhere:
"The overarching objective of Mandela Day is to inspire individuals to take action to help change the world for the better, and in doing so build a global movement for good. Ultimately it seeks to empower communities everywhere. “Take Action; Inspire Change; Make Every Day a Mandela Day.”
Individuals and organisations are free to participate in Mandela Day as they wish. We do however urge everyone to adhere to the ethical framework of “service to one’s fellow human”."
check out the website here for ideas on what you could do.
Perhaps you could write to the couple in the wedding images and spend 67 minutes with them at a shelter or a home and together help others, instead of focussing on their ignorance. Let's all change the world for the better, let's show that colonial attitudes of separation have no place in the 21st century. Be better than what you see in the images.
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
Railway lines
Did you have braces when you were at school?
I did. And so did about half of my class at some point. As soon as we hit high school, on came the railways. This would probably be the worst time to be made even more awkward: puberty, hormones, bad skin, growing desires, and then you impose a chastity belt on your teeth. When I got mine, I did not think they were that bad. I wasn't into the creative elastic arrangements in different colours because they would draw even more attention to my mouth.
Once, I was chewing gum, and the stupid ball got caught behind my braces: my teeth were lined with gum.Gum gum gum everywhere. And then one can't go pulling it out in the middle of class. Now I am laughing at how embarrassed I was, but it is really quite funny. Shame.
I had braces for my first kiss. Luckily he did not. I wonder if two people with them can really get stuck? If they can interlock somehow and then one stands there, literally lip-locked. That must be quite a story to tell at a dinner table twenty years later.
Strange how the youth of my generation have mostly had braces. We have all had metal-mouths. Perhaps this feeds from the now-ingrained obsession with what we look like. And teeth do seem to play a rather vital role there. No one is content with theirs, we seem to want super-white sparkly straight teeth, like we see in the Colgate adverts. Just thinking about the British one thinks of bad teeth, or about how Tom Cruises's look a lot more perfect that they did in Top Gun.
I am glad I had braces. I am glad everything is on the straight and narrow ( well, sort of). But now, years after having been freed form the constraints, years after sliding my tongue over smooth teeth, they are starting to separate again, especially between the front two. The teeth have a mind of their own. No, it is probably a genetic predisposition to imperfect incisors.
And to be honest, I would rather have a tiny ( haha let's hope it stays small) gap between my front teeth than to wear braces again for years, only to have them tell you every time you think you will get them off that "we should wait a bit longer". Maybe puberty is the ideal time to have them, if required. One is so unadapted in any case at that point, a bit more awkwardness should do no permanent harm. Well, your first kiss might be a bit disappointing, but I think that had nothing to do with the railways.
.
I did. And so did about half of my class at some point. As soon as we hit high school, on came the railways. This would probably be the worst time to be made even more awkward: puberty, hormones, bad skin, growing desires, and then you impose a chastity belt on your teeth. When I got mine, I did not think they were that bad. I wasn't into the creative elastic arrangements in different colours because they would draw even more attention to my mouth.
Once, I was chewing gum, and the stupid ball got caught behind my braces: my teeth were lined with gum.Gum gum gum everywhere. And then one can't go pulling it out in the middle of class. Now I am laughing at how embarrassed I was, but it is really quite funny. Shame.
I had braces for my first kiss. Luckily he did not. I wonder if two people with them can really get stuck? If they can interlock somehow and then one stands there, literally lip-locked. That must be quite a story to tell at a dinner table twenty years later.
Strange how the youth of my generation have mostly had braces. We have all had metal-mouths. Perhaps this feeds from the now-ingrained obsession with what we look like. And teeth do seem to play a rather vital role there. No one is content with theirs, we seem to want super-white sparkly straight teeth, like we see in the Colgate adverts. Just thinking about the British one thinks of bad teeth, or about how Tom Cruises's look a lot more perfect that they did in Top Gun.
I am glad I had braces. I am glad everything is on the straight and narrow ( well, sort of). But now, years after having been freed form the constraints, years after sliding my tongue over smooth teeth, they are starting to separate again, especially between the front two. The teeth have a mind of their own. No, it is probably a genetic predisposition to imperfect incisors.
And to be honest, I would rather have a tiny ( haha let's hope it stays small) gap between my front teeth than to wear braces again for years, only to have them tell you every time you think you will get them off that "we should wait a bit longer". Maybe puberty is the ideal time to have them, if required. One is so unadapted in any case at that point, a bit more awkwardness should do no permanent harm. Well, your first kiss might be a bit disappointing, but I think that had nothing to do with the railways.
.
Friday, 8 July 2011
Giving
My friend needed some extras in a silent/black-and-white short-film she is doing, so I spent the day at Church Square drinking Oom Paul's coffee and talking to interesting people. There is nothing like a discussion on the merits of pornography and its audience as background noise to a silent film... However, while walking the 20 metres from Capital Theatre to the Café, my friend's cellphone was stolen.
I don't think people who do not live in a society riddled with crime will understand this, but when we go out, we keep our handbags in the boot of the car, we lock everything ten times, we are hyper-alert at traffic lights and we have all been robbed. Or at least we all know someone. And it pisses me off. There are so many anti-crime associations and organizations aimed at helping whomever needs it. One would think that every person would want to do honourable work, would want to contribute meaningfully to their community. And yet, we have become nonchalant about crime, it is just part of our lives, like corn flakes for breakfast or the Gautrain not coming to Pretoria yet even though they advertise it on TV.
On my way home from the shoot, the radio-presenter was recounting how the day before, he was out with his girlfriend when a car with two respectable-looking young women stopped next to them and the driver asked if she could quickly borrow one of their cellphones because both their batteries were flat and they needed to reach someone. So the guy's girlfriend lent the girl her phone, and while she was still typing an sms, they sped off in the car with the phone.
Unbelievable, isn't it?!
One tries to be helpful, but the accumulation of bad stories really does make one mistrust everyone. I don't stop to help someone with car trouble out of fear that it might be a ruse to kidnap me. I don't give people rides if I don't know them, again out of fear. I think there exists a contradiction in the communal South African character: one the one hand, we are an incredibly friendly and open people, but on the other hand this aspect is reserved for foreigners and we are excessively mistrusting of our fellow citizens. Now don't go saying it is a racist thing, and that this mistrust is based on our history of racial segregation. It is not a case of "us" and "them" in terms of race, but in terms of class. The rich do not trust the poor, but I assume this is a universal phenomenon. Perhaps here the discrepancy between rich and poor is just too huge a chasm and that if one lives in poverty, one does not know how to get out of it.
I also don't know. I mean, my cellphone and money was stolen out of my handbag at a house party with only 20 guests. My sister was burgled in front of our door. Last year October four men broke two gates and a wooden door in a matter of seconds in order to get into our house. Constantly someone is being robbed of some possession.
I can understand if one steals out of a true need, say, for want of food or water or shelter. But it seems to me that crime in South Africa has become increasingly violent for the most meaningless things: people being killed for a cellphone, young schoolgirls raped on their way back from school, someone being smash-and-grabbed while stuck in a traffic jam. It is all just so stupid, and I don't know really what one can do. How can we react?
Already, most people in the big cities live in gated communities, neighbourhoods organize neighbourhood patrols and most citizens want to work with the police. But there is also a sense of helplessness, as the police force appears to be the most corrupt of all and they never solve a case. There is the idea that if no one died, it wasn't serious.
I think we as a country need to change drastically: we need to focus extensively on the education and integration of the lowest classes, re-teaching a value system and moral code that underlies every respectable society. There needs to exist a communal sense of what is wrong and right, and in everyone's mind the desire to do good must outweigh the desire for objects and status by any means possible. Also, the government needs to commit to a complete eradication of corruption.
Naturally this is an ideal that will take generations to achieve. But I believe that we need to instil in our generation this sense of morality that somehow has been lost after the atrocities of previous ages. There are two options for each individual: choose to see humanity as too flawed to do good, or choose to see humanity as having an essentially optimistic and embracing character. After all, each community reflects the collective choices of individuals, and at the moment it seems that South Africans are choosing indifference to their environment as opposed to wanting to change it for the better.
.
I don't think people who do not live in a society riddled with crime will understand this, but when we go out, we keep our handbags in the boot of the car, we lock everything ten times, we are hyper-alert at traffic lights and we have all been robbed. Or at least we all know someone. And it pisses me off. There are so many anti-crime associations and organizations aimed at helping whomever needs it. One would think that every person would want to do honourable work, would want to contribute meaningfully to their community. And yet, we have become nonchalant about crime, it is just part of our lives, like corn flakes for breakfast or the Gautrain not coming to Pretoria yet even though they advertise it on TV.
On my way home from the shoot, the radio-presenter was recounting how the day before, he was out with his girlfriend when a car with two respectable-looking young women stopped next to them and the driver asked if she could quickly borrow one of their cellphones because both their batteries were flat and they needed to reach someone. So the guy's girlfriend lent the girl her phone, and while she was still typing an sms, they sped off in the car with the phone.
Unbelievable, isn't it?!
One tries to be helpful, but the accumulation of bad stories really does make one mistrust everyone. I don't stop to help someone with car trouble out of fear that it might be a ruse to kidnap me. I don't give people rides if I don't know them, again out of fear. I think there exists a contradiction in the communal South African character: one the one hand, we are an incredibly friendly and open people, but on the other hand this aspect is reserved for foreigners and we are excessively mistrusting of our fellow citizens. Now don't go saying it is a racist thing, and that this mistrust is based on our history of racial segregation. It is not a case of "us" and "them" in terms of race, but in terms of class. The rich do not trust the poor, but I assume this is a universal phenomenon. Perhaps here the discrepancy between rich and poor is just too huge a chasm and that if one lives in poverty, one does not know how to get out of it.
I also don't know. I mean, my cellphone and money was stolen out of my handbag at a house party with only 20 guests. My sister was burgled in front of our door. Last year October four men broke two gates and a wooden door in a matter of seconds in order to get into our house. Constantly someone is being robbed of some possession.
I can understand if one steals out of a true need, say, for want of food or water or shelter. But it seems to me that crime in South Africa has become increasingly violent for the most meaningless things: people being killed for a cellphone, young schoolgirls raped on their way back from school, someone being smash-and-grabbed while stuck in a traffic jam. It is all just so stupid, and I don't know really what one can do. How can we react?
Already, most people in the big cities live in gated communities, neighbourhoods organize neighbourhood patrols and most citizens want to work with the police. But there is also a sense of helplessness, as the police force appears to be the most corrupt of all and they never solve a case. There is the idea that if no one died, it wasn't serious.
I think we as a country need to change drastically: we need to focus extensively on the education and integration of the lowest classes, re-teaching a value system and moral code that underlies every respectable society. There needs to exist a communal sense of what is wrong and right, and in everyone's mind the desire to do good must outweigh the desire for objects and status by any means possible. Also, the government needs to commit to a complete eradication of corruption.
Naturally this is an ideal that will take generations to achieve. But I believe that we need to instil in our generation this sense of morality that somehow has been lost after the atrocities of previous ages. There are two options for each individual: choose to see humanity as too flawed to do good, or choose to see humanity as having an essentially optimistic and embracing character. After all, each community reflects the collective choices of individuals, and at the moment it seems that South Africans are choosing indifference to their environment as opposed to wanting to change it for the better.
.
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Treat Me
As a present, I got a voucher to go to a spa treatment. I was envisioning some sadistic massage to knead out all the pressure in my shoulders. But the lady informed me that the voucher was only valid for a facial, so for a facial I went.
Now you must know, I hate facials. I don't like someone washing and cleansing and plucking at my face. I don't like someone with perfect skin and perfect make-up looking at my pores through a magnifying glass and pointing out its impurities.
However, this facial was suuuuuuuuper-relaxing. Some soothing Enya in the background, some towels to keep me warm and then all the lady did was massage my face, neck and arms with different lotions and potions. Everything smelled edible. And the lights were dimmed down so I did not feel like I was in some laboratory, ready to be poked and prodded. I don't really understand why women (mostly) go for facials, but this was very enjoyable.
Now comes the part I hate about going to any salon or spa or beauty palace ( yes, palace, not place). They always, always, always want you to buy more stuff! At the hairdresser it is some special shampoo. At the beauty palace it is a whole new range of facial products. It does not matter where I go, they always want me to buy stuff that I neither want nor can afford. I like going to Clicks and buying my (to me) already expensive L'Oréal Elvive when it is on special. I like earning my little points and getting a discount voucher in the mail. I like being able to go into a store and choosing a product, without someone hassling me about what to buy and shoving the most expensive one in my face. I want to scream: "Jeeeeeez Louise people, I am a student! NO MONEY HERE!"
I can understand, sales people need to sell stuff. But aren't we already paying for the haircut, the pedicure or the massage? One day, when I have divorced for the 5th time and the settlement allows for it, I will buy your silly shampoo. But please, notice I am wearing Mr Price and come with a voucher. Please do not torture me with long explanations about the excellence of your product, because I cannot afford to buy it and all I can think about is what excuse I will tell you to leave as soon as possible without being too rude.
.
Now you must know, I hate facials. I don't like someone washing and cleansing and plucking at my face. I don't like someone with perfect skin and perfect make-up looking at my pores through a magnifying glass and pointing out its impurities.
However, this facial was suuuuuuuuper-relaxing. Some soothing Enya in the background, some towels to keep me warm and then all the lady did was massage my face, neck and arms with different lotions and potions. Everything smelled edible. And the lights were dimmed down so I did not feel like I was in some laboratory, ready to be poked and prodded. I don't really understand why women (mostly) go for facials, but this was very enjoyable.
Now comes the part I hate about going to any salon or spa or beauty palace ( yes, palace, not place). They always, always, always want you to buy more stuff! At the hairdresser it is some special shampoo. At the beauty palace it is a whole new range of facial products. It does not matter where I go, they always want me to buy stuff that I neither want nor can afford. I like going to Clicks and buying my (to me) already expensive L'Oréal Elvive when it is on special. I like earning my little points and getting a discount voucher in the mail. I like being able to go into a store and choosing a product, without someone hassling me about what to buy and shoving the most expensive one in my face. I want to scream: "Jeeeeeez Louise people, I am a student! NO MONEY HERE!"
I can understand, sales people need to sell stuff. But aren't we already paying for the haircut, the pedicure or the massage? One day, when I have divorced for the 5th time and the settlement allows for it, I will buy your silly shampoo. But please, notice I am wearing Mr Price and come with a voucher. Please do not torture me with long explanations about the excellence of your product, because I cannot afford to buy it and all I can think about is what excuse I will tell you to leave as soon as possible without being too rude.
.
Monday, 4 July 2011
Splitscreen: A Love Story
This shirt film was shot entirely on a cellphone ( the Nokia N8). Wonderful, isn't it. And somewhat of a disgrace to think that most people use their phone's video capabilities to shoot embarrassing, drunken or insignificant moments that they will either never watch or post on YouTube to the annoyance of their friends.
I was chatting with my friend earlier and wanted to tell her something funny and pretty and beautiful, but because nothing today seems to fit into that category, this short film will have to take my story's place. I know it is not funny, but it is rather remarkable and optimistic and just simply happy. And I think we all need a simple, happy moment sometimes.
Enjoy.
( here is the vimeo link as well, I think the quality is slightly better? )
.
I was chatting with my friend earlier and wanted to tell her something funny and pretty and beautiful, but because nothing today seems to fit into that category, this short film will have to take my story's place. I know it is not funny, but it is rather remarkable and optimistic and just simply happy. And I think we all need a simple, happy moment sometimes.
Enjoy.
( here is the vimeo link as well, I think the quality is slightly better? )
.
The death of the gentleman and other notions
I can paint my own walls, check my own car's tire pressure and oil, hang up my own paintings, drill my own holes... Basically, I think I can do everything a man can do (except pee while standing. And even that can be arranged, somehow). If I do not know how, I will ask. I do not want to be some damsel in distress, afraid of chipping a nail. I want to be able to build a fire ( hah! That one can be checked off the list), fix the car, make a bookshelf and rewire a lighting fixture. I want to know these traditionally male things, because until now, I have done it on my own. I have learnt to fix what is broken by myself. Why would I want to learn these things? Because when you are a woman, car sales men tell you where you can put your lipstick and not about the fuel consumption, the engine strength, etc. When you are in Builder's Warehouse, the employees assume you are there waiting for your husband/boyfriend/father and do not help you. When you want to fill up your tank, you are expected to stay seated and not check everything yourself. Tss. I know these are generalisations, but one must admit that quite often, there are subtle discriminations in the everyday.
However, there does come a point where I think the loss of traditional gender roles is lamentable, and that is the way of being treated like a lady. No one opens doors any more. No one goes for a traditional date of dinner and a movie and is satisfied with a kiss at the doorstep. No one sends flowers. I think the art of being a gentleman has been eradicated by the insistence on instant sexual gratification of my generation.
It can be argued that this is perhaps our own fault: female emancipation and the notion of gender equality has relegated men as quite useless. With enough sperm, we could eradicate men completely. Perhaps women are "doing it for themselves" too much and men feel threatened by this intrusion into "their" world. I don't really know what it is. But I think most women still want to fulfil the role of mother and wife ( or partner or whatever you want to call the person you are committed to). Most women still want to make the salad and rice for the Sunday braai. Most women still want to stay at home and pack lunch boxes. But I think many women also want to feel a sense of personal achievement : no one applauds the wife for an excellent dinner party, children see only their father as "working" and one gets kitchen utensils for one's birthday. When one has a job that is not housewife, there is competition, reward and aspiration. Is there also a sense of pride in one's work that one does not feel when one is "only" at home? I know raising children and keeping up with the household is a full-time job, but sometimes one needs to be able to talk about more than one's husband and children.
I believe our society has been conditioned too much by materialism: all that matters is what car one drives and where one buys the groceries. Even days of appreciation like mother's day, father's day and Valentine's day are a consumerist festival.
I say forget all those "tokens". Opening the doors, randomly bringing flowers or just cooking dinner once will already make a girl feel like a lady, like she is worth the effort. Maybe that is the crux of it: one wants to feel like the other does value one's existence, that one is important somehow, that one is more than a pair of breasts.
Nowadays one can organize a quick hook-up over sms or BBM, one can go home with a random person and do the walk of shame the next morning. I say if that is what you want at that point in time, do it. But the next morning, the next week, the next year, one will probably think: "Hmm, maybe that was not the wisest decision." It cheapens one's own self-worth, it makes one feel like all that is desirable about oneself is the body and not the brains.
Maybe this way of thinking is outdated in a high-speed world. Maybe internet dating and apps designed for booty calls are the future. But somehow, I am still a lady. I might not always talk like one or look like one, but in essence, I am still a woman (maybe not yet?!) of worth and need to be treated accordingly.
.
However, there does come a point where I think the loss of traditional gender roles is lamentable, and that is the way of being treated like a lady. No one opens doors any more. No one goes for a traditional date of dinner and a movie and is satisfied with a kiss at the doorstep. No one sends flowers. I think the art of being a gentleman has been eradicated by the insistence on instant sexual gratification of my generation.
It can be argued that this is perhaps our own fault: female emancipation and the notion of gender equality has relegated men as quite useless. With enough sperm, we could eradicate men completely. Perhaps women are "doing it for themselves" too much and men feel threatened by this intrusion into "their" world. I don't really know what it is. But I think most women still want to fulfil the role of mother and wife ( or partner or whatever you want to call the person you are committed to). Most women still want to make the salad and rice for the Sunday braai. Most women still want to stay at home and pack lunch boxes. But I think many women also want to feel a sense of personal achievement : no one applauds the wife for an excellent dinner party, children see only their father as "working" and one gets kitchen utensils for one's birthday. When one has a job that is not housewife, there is competition, reward and aspiration. Is there also a sense of pride in one's work that one does not feel when one is "only" at home? I know raising children and keeping up with the household is a full-time job, but sometimes one needs to be able to talk about more than one's husband and children.
I believe our society has been conditioned too much by materialism: all that matters is what car one drives and where one buys the groceries. Even days of appreciation like mother's day, father's day and Valentine's day are a consumerist festival.
I say forget all those "tokens". Opening the doors, randomly bringing flowers or just cooking dinner once will already make a girl feel like a lady, like she is worth the effort. Maybe that is the crux of it: one wants to feel like the other does value one's existence, that one is important somehow, that one is more than a pair of breasts.
Nowadays one can organize a quick hook-up over sms or BBM, one can go home with a random person and do the walk of shame the next morning. I say if that is what you want at that point in time, do it. But the next morning, the next week, the next year, one will probably think: "Hmm, maybe that was not the wisest decision." It cheapens one's own self-worth, it makes one feel like all that is desirable about oneself is the body and not the brains.
Maybe this way of thinking is outdated in a high-speed world. Maybe internet dating and apps designed for booty calls are the future. But somehow, I am still a lady. I might not always talk like one or look like one, but in essence, I am still a woman (maybe not yet?!) of worth and need to be treated accordingly.
.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
B est F riends F orever
During my last year at school, I thought I had found my friends for life. The ones who would be my bridesmaids. The ones who would be there when my children got married. The ones who would drink too much gin & tonic at the old age home with me.
But then I left for a year, and even though I expected them to write me, or at least to write back, nothing happened. We kept in touch via facebook. They came to visit. And it was almost like always. The friendship was back on track. Perhaps I never gave anyone else a chance to be my friend because I already had excellent ones.
So back in the land, I started at university. What an arrogant, ignorant person I must have been in that first year. None of my friends were studying with me, or even in the country. But I met an old one again, we had drifted apart previously, and she has become an integral part of my life. I always felt like I did not fit in with the other students because I was two years older ( a lifetime, I know, hahaha) and because I had seen some of the world, I knew what it was to do menial work and to have to earn ones own money. I still know what a privilege it is to learn. For a year I yearned to learn. I missed learning more than Mrs H.S. Balls Chutney. I missed finding something out and marvelling at how I had never considered that before. How I had never thought about it.
But the ones studying with me seemed not to care. They were not aware. They liked things I had moved past. Again, quite arrogant. And again, I did not really give them a chance.
Slowly however my old friends changed. Or I changed. Or everyone changed. My idea of having found my bffs was unravelling and everyone left. Near and far.
So this year I opened myself to new people, fascinating people, people with completely different worldviews and people who have enriched my understanding through their optimism and their perspectives. New people who made me appreciate the value of seeing the world as faceted.
Now know, I appreciate every one of you : old friends, new friends, close friends, far-away friends, friends who have driven me home when I couldn't, friends who come for tea on Sundays, friends who make photo collages, friends who sms to know if I got home ok or just ask how my day went, friends who need me like I need them.
I know it is a cliché to say that one cannot choose one's family, but somehow I agree that one chooses one's friends. One chooses to work on a friendship, to keep in touch, to spend time together, to be in the life of the other. So it is a sad when one notices that one has lost one another, than there is nothing really to say when one is in the same room, that the friendship has changed to an acquaintance. But one must probably also accept that every friendship has a lifespan. Sometimes it is better to appreciate a person for their presence, no matter how long it was, than to dislike them for their absence.
So I will write it again. Thank you for being in my life. You are the extended family of my choice. And I hope I am part of yours, too.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)