Wear sunscreen

They sometimes play this song on TuksFm ( the student radio station) and after looking for it for years I finally caught the name.
The video is not worth watching ( since it is just a still image), but it is worth listening to. It reminds me of Baz Luhrman's Everybody's free ( to wear sunscreen), which I'll post below.

weekend blues

This weekend was supposed to be fabulous. My friend and I were supposed to fly to Cape Town on Thursday to attend a friend's wedding on Saturday in Stanford. We were supposed to land and spend a night of revelry with my cousin, sipping Margaritas and having a good time. On Friday, we were supposed to go to Stellenbosch and enjoy the wine farms, sipping wine and having a good time. On Friday evening, were were supposed to meet another friend, sipping a Hunter's Dry and having a good time. On Saturday morning we were supposed to go to the Biscuit Mill Market with my mother, sipping on smoothies and having a good time. Then we would drive the scenic route along the coast to Hermanus, before heading inland to Stanford. We would have gotten to the guest house, changed, and gone to the wedding. We would have seen our friend walk down the aisle and commit  for life to the man she loves. We would have celebrated the night away, dancing, and sipping on champagne. Today, we would have boarded the plane and headed home, eager to check how the photos turned out and to remember the great weekend.

Instead, Velvet Sky cancelled our flight 2 hours before we were supposed to leave, and did not offer an alternative flight. The only flight they finally managed on Friday to offer us was too late to be at the wedding on time.

So I spent my weekend at home, thinking about where I could have been.

I remember (5:31)

I had forgotten Damien Rice. When I was at school he was my absolute favourite. Time to get him back onto my Top 50 playlist. 

Bulle

Almal skreeu vir die skerm, bier in die hand. Ek sien net blou truie. Dis my eerste rugby match, en ek's nie juis seker wie teen wie speel nie. My vriende ondersteun die Bulle, met blou truie en toppies en grimering, so ek ondersteun maar saam. In die ou einde verloor hulle. Almal gee 10 minute voor die finale fluitjie op en loop want die Bulle so sleg speel en die verskill nie meer kan inhaal nie. Daar is 'n laaste teenslag maar niks kom daarvan nie. Dis 23.26. ( die tyd, nie die telling nie). Is my bloed net blou as hulle wen?

Die treurige glimlag van teleurstelling word gekontrasteer met mense wat hul fuiste in die lug gooi en mekaar 'n druk gee.
celebration devastation, alles dieselfde tyd.

Maar: almal sal Suid Afrika ondersteun.

________________________________________________________________________

Ek het dié laas jaar geskryf toe die Bulle uit die Curry Cup uit is, dink ek teen minste. Nou sien ek op die nuus, met Riaan, dat die Bulle dié saterdag teen die Sharks of Stormers of iemand speel. Dis al 'n jaar terug, Suid Afrika het toe nie die wêreldbeker in Nieu-Seeland  gewen nie, teen spyte van baie ondersteuning en hoop. Ek weet mens sê dit baie, en dat dit niks met rugby te doen het nie, maar as mens besig is hardloop die tyd net so veel vinniger.




As 'n bonus, vandag is my Stadstapper foto van Pretoria die keuse van die dag by A Postcard a Day from Gauteng. What whaaaat ( baie gangster haha).

Surfing

Today's image is for my Slivia, because she likes clouds and I haven't seen her in a while.
Eine Wolke nur für dich :)

Admittedly, the clouds did not look that cool, I upped the contrast quite a bit.
Hope everyone is having a good start to the week and not drowning in all the STUFF that keeps piling on. It seems like at the beginning of the year everyone wants everything done NOW, without thinking about time management and effective planning. Tss.

Un jour

This is from one of my lecturer's wall. 

Believe (in) me

Yesterday we went to my cousin's farewell because he is moving to Cape Town ( lucky him :). So over the course of the evening everyone was enjoying themselves, drinking, conversing, and having a good time. But at some point some already-over-the-limit guy thinks that it is a good idea to start discussing religion and belief right there and then. I think belief is a very personal thing, and cannot be discussed sensibly in all situations and with all people.

I don't know this guy, but after stating that I was more inclined to an existentialist philosophy, he launched an attack on my morality and was in complete disbelief that I was not a believer of the Christian faith. Does morality automatically link to your religious beliefs? Do the 10 commandments make for the only moral guidelines one needs?

My parents took me to church and Sunday school and I even spent a year in Grade 9 learning about the bible and Christ. But I only went because it was what was expected of me. I have never felt an intimate connection with the Christian God, simply because the way the faith is twisted by each follower and by each parish disturbs me greatly. Everyone has a personal take, which they deem to be right.  What is even worse is the idea that a forgiving God will forgive anything, so it is o.k. if you do something against the moral code, you just have to say "Sorry" afterwards.

Listen, I think everyone has the right to believe in whatever they want, and I think my choice to not believe should be respected. Perhaps it changes, perhaps I will later accept a different faith into my life, but perhaps I will continue to believe in the here and now, in the resistance to a life not lived out of fear, in multiple perspectives, and in the inherent goodness of humanity. Morality is not exclusive to religion.

My friend K and I had this same discussion earlier, and she made a valid point: it is easier to believe than to question it. Again, I am not saying you should stop believing if that is the route you chose, but be aware of what you are going to church or to the mosque or whatever for. Know why you believe, why you chose this, why you need this in your life. Do not simply accept what you were raised with, what your environment expects of you.

Religious freedom is enshrined in our constitution, so please accept non-belief, just as I accept and respect yours.

Friends & Lovers

Incubus is sharing a 4 Track EP with their fans courtesy of Valentine's Day.
Get it here

Growing in the wind

Our garden is overflowing with things that we did not plant. Today I made some rice-paper rolls with rocket and sweet orange peppers that I could just pick outside, and surprisingly it was rather tasty ( admittedly I added other bought veggies to the filling for the rolls).

So if you are in need of some rocket, let me know. I think there are sweet potatoes, ordinary potatoes and some butternuts growing in between the rocket and mint, but since my grandmother got all the green-thumb genes I am not entirely sure...

  

Sage advice

via Warholian on facebook

What does it mean to do your own thing? Is it when you leave home, finally, and are responsible for yourself, completely? Is it the choices you make, and stick to? Is it waiting for better, thinking that at the end of this year/this degree/this job/this relationship/ this what-ever-it-is, your life will change radically, that you will finally be able to do what you want?

I think it is all not as easy as what photoshopped advice makes it out to be. We all live in a reality of our own choosing, but I think there are many factors that an individual cannot ignore. There are bills to pay and contracts to fulfil and responsibilities in the here-and-now that one cannot just run from. Perhaps this is more sage advice to myself than to anyone else because I always eye a life less ordinary and forget to live the one I have in this moment. I keep wanting more and making plans to leave and "do my own thing", without really knowing what it is at all. I'd like to say, fuck you all, but there is no one I could really say it to because in the end it is always my decision and there is no one to be angry at. There isn't even anything to be angry about. So here is to expecting the best of today and finding what my thing is before I head anywhere. Here is good, for now.

kapow!

"Newtown" by Collette Wasielewski 

Today's postcard a day from Gauteng reminds me to be grateful for all the wonderful times I have shared with the people around me. Not every day is a good day, not every moment is marvellous and there is no getting around the fact that often, life is hard. But whatever, we make the best of what we have, so thank you for the happy times mes amis. 

All of us

Sometimes I hear a song on the radio, and in that moment I tell myself to remember some of the lyrics or to catch the name and artist after the song, but often I get distracted and forget and then the song is lost. Luckily this one by Fink proved unforgettable, and by coincidence my friend Berdene mentioned the song a day later, saying she had also heard it on the radio. Great minds.
 

Here is another link to just the song.

Acknowledge

Ok, I must confess something now: I have copied a few things from Riette over at Confessions of a Pretoria Chique. On her site I discovered the two buttons that now also cheer up my constantly changing page :

• I pledge to read the printed word, which quite self-evidently supports reading anything that is printed. With all the tablets, e-readers and online newspapers that are taking over, people are forgetting the thrill of burying one's nose in the crisp smell of a brand new book, or appreciating second hand books with special inscriptions and an even more interesting smell of the old and forgotten. At some point last year I scribbled this in my diary after a visit to the dark recesses of the library: "Books, when touched, breathe out a sigh of relief - we have not been forgotten, our words are not for nothing, our knowledge is still here, reachable, touchable, at your fingertips. "

and

• LINKwithlove, which supports the idea that although the internet is such a vast virtual reality with so much information, the source should always be acknowledged. Strange how in business, at university and even at school plagiarism is seen as an evil, but online no-one fears copying someone else's ideas because it does not seem to be so important. I try to name the sources, simply because I would also appreciate being named if someone were to like my ideas or images or so. Here is LINKwithlove's mission statement:

Bramon

I have been meaning to write about the delectable lunch we had at Bramon Wine Estate, just after Plettenberg Bay on the N2. It is a boutique vineyard of only 5 hectares and you can eat by sitting between the vines. To be honest, I was not too keen on stopping at some unknown wine estate because we were driving from Wilderness to Jeffrey's Bay, where my grandmother lives, and all I wanted was to get there.

But my mother persisted and it was lovely: for lunch you get a warm, steaming bread and then you can order little extras from a menu. The fresh pesto, Brie, wine-marinated pears with Gorgonzola, marinated chicken kebabs, red-onion pie and Caprese salad seduced us completely. The dishes might look tiny in the photographs, but we it was just enough and we even took home a nice piece of fresh bread. Hmm hmm hmm I am still licking my lips although we were there about a month ago.

What I liked about the restaurant was that it was easy but delicious food, and every one could just pick from different plates what they wanted. Usually, when you visit to a restaurant, every one chooses a different dish, and at most you will taste a tiny fork-full of someone else's plate. Eating is a celebration, food is meant to be shared and enjoyed, and I appreciated how a relatively basic lunch of bread and toppings was transformed into a tasting adventure at Bramon.

So, if you are ever travelling along the N2, do yourself a favour and enjoy an delightful lunch with excellent wine in a special setting.

Great Pretender

via Postsecret

We had a garden-party today and people always want to know what my plans are. Here it is: I don't have any idea where my life is heading. This year it's Honours, after that who knows what will appear on my path. Throughout 2011 I was certain that I would leave for South Korea after obtaining my degree and teach English and be free of Pretoria, but the plans in my mind and reality were not the same. So I am here, still. It is slightly unforeseen and I know this will be a hard year study-wise, but it is the choice I made, I'm sticking to it for another year and then take it from there. 

One art

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

- Elizabeth Bishop

The university has started again, so I don't have the time to write myself, but Elizabeth Bishop does it better in any case.