This year, man, this year.
The days a twisted game of Jenga,
with stacks of bureaucratic paperwork
and nothing really to look forward to.
Alas, this is just what everyone feels like
when big changes
are just around the corner
ready to shout "BOO!"
when you least expect it.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Sunday, 11 January 2015
Monday, 8 April 2013
Something Good.
Please tell me something good happened to you today. A little moment of joy or an enormous surprise, just anything happy.
In the past three hours, it is as though all my ideas and dreams and hopes and back-up plans for the future were sucked up by a monstrous fan and ripped apart in seconds. Seconds. And now the fan is just continuing, as if what he has done to me was hardly even noticeable. Moving along. Breezing about.
Why do I feel so shredded?
First Japan informs me I've been chosen as an alternate and will be told any time between now and fucking Christmas whether I can go. Yeah. Because I haven't been waiting long enough already.
For the moment I was still sticking to that 'keep calm and carry on' bullshit. I was thinking, ah, well, apply to universities and do your Masters and that is what you wanted to do in any case and ALLWILLBEFINE. Everything's ok. You are ok.
Then I went to the University's site where I really desperately wanted to do my Masters, and BAM, they say the program has been postponed because it is being "re-evaluated" and there will be no admissions for 2013. What. No. Nonononononononono.
Now, I am not sure.
Start dreaming from the beginning. "Re-evaluate" yourself, what you thought you wanted, what you could do now.
No need to panic.
In the past three hours, it is as though all my ideas and dreams and hopes and back-up plans for the future were sucked up by a monstrous fan and ripped apart in seconds. Seconds. And now the fan is just continuing, as if what he has done to me was hardly even noticeable. Moving along. Breezing about.
Why do I feel so shredded?
First Japan informs me I've been chosen as an alternate and will be told any time between now and fucking Christmas whether I can go. Yeah. Because I haven't been waiting long enough already.
For the moment I was still sticking to that 'keep calm and carry on' bullshit. I was thinking, ah, well, apply to universities and do your Masters and that is what you wanted to do in any case and ALLWILLBEFINE. Everything's ok. You are ok.
Then I went to the University's site where I really desperately wanted to do my Masters, and BAM, they say the program has been postponed because it is being "re-evaluated" and there will be no admissions for 2013. What. No. Nonononononononono.
Now, I am not sure.
Start dreaming from the beginning. "Re-evaluate" yourself, what you thought you wanted, what you could do now.
No need to panic.
Sunday, 10 March 2013
When all you got to keep is strong/Move along
One suitcase. I left with one suitcase, my laptop bag and a handbag. I didn't care about the things I had left, it was all about flying towards a future that had to be different from years lived in between.
My sister is moving out tomorrow and thus packing up her room. She has only one suitcase, true, but bags and bags and bags and bags and more bags full of things. Her room still looks full, even with half of her stuff gone already.
It is quizzical how we hang on to things. Tiny keepsakes, objects of remembrance, but also plastic bags and Tupperware that no longer has a fitting lid and carpets that are stained and CDs that are scratched and clothes that can no longer be worn in public. We hang on to bad sofas and creaky beds and tilted tables and uncomfortable chairs and squeaky wheelbarrows. We keep all of this broken stuff even though it neither gives something nor takes anything from our lives. All these objects do is remind us of the tiny little hoarding complex enshrined in capitalist society.
We are constantly encouraged to buy newer, better things to replace the old things that still work. So we are caught in this spiral where we don't want to throw away the old because we don't want to have wasted our money, but then we proceed to buy the new since spending money is fun, even if you have to pay with your Credit Card and the waves of debt are steadily inching up beyond where you can stand.
I, too, like my things. I like my books. I like my earrings. I very much like the new jeans that actually fit. I like the old photo albums. I like my mom's Rosenthal porcelain. I really like my red Adidas. I like my stuff.
But if it all goes away, if I can take nothing from the burning house but myself, well, I'll move along, because they are just things. Some can be replaced, some can be recovered from the Cloud, some might be lost forever.
It won't be all that tragic though. Losing everything does not equate to losing everyone.
I'll still have friendship.
I'll still have love.
I'll have hope.
And, somehow, happiness. Because being happy is not measured in how many objects we possess but in an appreciation for what remains when all else is lost.
My sister is moving out tomorrow and thus packing up her room. She has only one suitcase, true, but bags and bags and bags and bags and more bags full of things. Her room still looks full, even with half of her stuff gone already.
It is quizzical how we hang on to things. Tiny keepsakes, objects of remembrance, but also plastic bags and Tupperware that no longer has a fitting lid and carpets that are stained and CDs that are scratched and clothes that can no longer be worn in public. We hang on to bad sofas and creaky beds and tilted tables and uncomfortable chairs and squeaky wheelbarrows. We keep all of this broken stuff even though it neither gives something nor takes anything from our lives. All these objects do is remind us of the tiny little hoarding complex enshrined in capitalist society.
We are constantly encouraged to buy newer, better things to replace the old things that still work. So we are caught in this spiral where we don't want to throw away the old because we don't want to have wasted our money, but then we proceed to buy the new since spending money is fun, even if you have to pay with your Credit Card and the waves of debt are steadily inching up beyond where you can stand.
I, too, like my things. I like my books. I like my earrings. I very much like the new jeans that actually fit. I like the old photo albums. I like my mom's Rosenthal porcelain. I really like my red Adidas. I like my stuff.
But if it all goes away, if I can take nothing from the burning house but myself, well, I'll move along, because they are just things. Some can be replaced, some can be recovered from the Cloud, some might be lost forever.
It won't be all that tragic though. Losing everything does not equate to losing everyone.
I'll still have friendship.
I'll still have love.
I'll have hope.
And, somehow, happiness. Because being happy is not measured in how many objects we possess but in an appreciation for what remains when all else is lost.
Sunday, 1 July 2012
Hope Tomorrow
I think that in between the adenine, guanine, thymine and cytosine, hope is sequenced into our DNA. It seems we always have the ability to hope for a better tomorrow, to hope for what we cannot possess today, to hope for what we could not achieve in the past.
True, what we hope for changes just as our circumstances do, but there always remains a little something, an esprit de corps that continues rooting when nothing else remains. Perhaps I am wrong and too privileged to have experienced the loss of hope.
No. Even the dying, the disillusioned, the sick and old and suffering, even those in the abyss will cling to "these last strands of man in me". Hopkins writes in Poem 64 (Carrion Comfort)
I don't know when one would give up hope. If I understood L'Étranger right, all life is senseless, and there is nothing after death. When one accepts this fact, one has two options: kill yourself, right then and there, because essentially life is pointless. Or, alternatively, rage, fight, squeeeeeeze as much life from yours as you can, since we are confined to earth for a specific time and before and after there is nothing. Our souls aren't eternal, just as our bodies aren't - better make the best of the here and now. Better to hope for the best in the here and now?
No. Even the dying, the disillusioned, the sick and old and suffering, even those in the abyss will cling to "these last strands of man in me". Hopkins writes in Poem 64 (Carrion Comfort)
"I can;
Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be. "
I don't know when one would give up hope. If I understood L'Étranger right, all life is senseless, and there is nothing after death. When one accepts this fact, one has two options: kill yourself, right then and there, because essentially life is pointless. Or, alternatively, rage, fight, squeeeeeeze as much life from yours as you can, since we are confined to earth for a specific time and before and after there is nothing. Our souls aren't eternal, just as our bodies aren't - better make the best of the here and now. Better to hope for the best in the here and now?
When I originally wrote this post, I liked this idea of living for the moment. But now I wonder if it is not just some hippie cliché. Sure, make the most of your day and make a point of enjoying your life. I mean, I used to think that as soon as I leave here my life will start. As soon as I am done procrastinating, I will achieve something more meaningful, more important to the world. However, one must plan ahead, pay bills and buy food and spend nights watching brain-dead television series. Not every day is an adventure, not every damn day is filled to the brim with experiences that you will treasure forever.
I agree with an existentialist worldview because I never had a very strong faith in a godly power. Life and death happen, if there is and afterlife I'll see how it goes then. Perhaps our potential for hope is really the thing that makes us take action in the everyday: we hope for something and we (mostly) know what choices to make in order to get there.
I agree with an existentialist worldview because I never had a very strong faith in a godly power. Life and death happen, if there is and afterlife I'll see how it goes then. Perhaps our potential for hope is really the thing that makes us take action in the everyday: we hope for something and we (mostly) know what choices to make in order to get there.
Saturday, 9 June 2012
The happy sinner
I don't have a bucket list.
I don't want to parachute, or climb the Great Wall of China, or go shark-cage diving. All this YOLO* stuff is just the current generation remaking Carpe Diem into something more hash-tag-able to add after Twitter statuses.
Certainly, there are things I, too, want to see and do, but if it doesn't work out, it's not the end of the world. I'd really like to go on a train trip through India, à la Darjeeling Limited, including Louis Vuitton luggage and Adrien Brody and some soul-searching. Or go to the Arctic Circle to bond with some polar bears. Or to spend 6 months travelling across the US and Canada, East-to-West.
But the only thing I really want is this:
Happiness.
Not a lifetime pursuit, not a conquest, not going in search of happiness, and of what one usually associates with it. People ( jaja, generalising, as always) tend to believe that when they have found the perfect job, or the perfect partner, or the perfect apartment, or the perfect car, they will be happy. I think that perhaps these things are to big to provide happiness, and gives them too much importance. Sure, it adds to how content you can be if you have a great place and person to return home to after an enjoyable day at work, but you need to find happiness in the small things.
In the perfect pain au chocolat. Or seeing the university's Camera Obscura. Or the radio playing Walk like an Egyptian on your way home. Or seeing your mom after weeks.
There is a lot of happiness in the everyday, we just miss it.
On a similar note, though, (and the original reason for my post) is the recent launching of a friend's blog about her happy place. Check it out on the Square Bucket.
Also, here's the link to the post title, Miss Li's The Happy Sinner**. Listen to it after a weekend of excess when you've told yourself you'll never drink/smoke/go out ever again.
*You only live once.
**Sliv, für dich.
I don't want to parachute, or climb the Great Wall of China, or go shark-cage diving. All this YOLO* stuff is just the current generation remaking Carpe Diem into something more hash-tag-able to add after Twitter statuses.
Certainly, there are things I, too, want to see and do, but if it doesn't work out, it's not the end of the world. I'd really like to go on a train trip through India, à la Darjeeling Limited, including Louis Vuitton luggage and Adrien Brody and some soul-searching. Or go to the Arctic Circle to bond with some polar bears. Or to spend 6 months travelling across the US and Canada, East-to-West.
But the only thing I really want is this:
Happiness.
Not a lifetime pursuit, not a conquest, not going in search of happiness, and of what one usually associates with it. People ( jaja, generalising, as always) tend to believe that when they have found the perfect job, or the perfect partner, or the perfect apartment, or the perfect car, they will be happy. I think that perhaps these things are to big to provide happiness, and gives them too much importance. Sure, it adds to how content you can be if you have a great place and person to return home to after an enjoyable day at work, but you need to find happiness in the small things.
In the perfect pain au chocolat. Or seeing the university's Camera Obscura. Or the radio playing Walk like an Egyptian on your way home. Or seeing your mom after weeks.
There is a lot of happiness in the everyday, we just miss it.
On a similar note, though, (and the original reason for my post) is the recent launching of a friend's blog about her happy place. Check it out on the Square Bucket.
Also, here's the link to the post title, Miss Li's The Happy Sinner**. Listen to it after a weekend of excess when you've told yourself you'll never drink/smoke/go out ever again.
*You only live once.
**Sliv, für dich.
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
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.
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
over achiever
Sometimes I cannot handle the weight of my own expectations. Sometimes I think I cannot do something, cannot achieve what I have wanted, cannot get past a failure. Sometimes the self-doubt is greater than the totality of a wondrous ( wander-ous?!) life.
Sometimes I make the mistake of seeing me the way you do, and then I think this is all I am. Sometimes you make me feel like this could be me:
Use the truth as a weapon to beat up all your friends
Any chink in the armour an excuse to cause offence
( from the Swell Season's In These Arms).
But after wallowing in self-pity, I think most people move on. There is nothing else to be done. Change what you can, but do not become obsessed with the things you wanted to do but never could. With losses and disappointments. Either try again, or try something new. There is plenty more you could excel at.
Today might be slightly to personal to share with the Internet. Today I am emo without the excessive fringe. Today I feel betrayed by circumstance. Today I feel like the uncontrollability of existence is too overwhelming. Today I am Carrion Comfort ( Gerard Manley Hopkins):
.
Sometimes I make the mistake of seeing me the way you do, and then I think this is all I am. Sometimes you make me feel like this could be me:
Use the truth as a weapon to beat up all your friends
Any chink in the armour an excuse to cause offence
( from the Swell Season's In These Arms).
But after wallowing in self-pity, I think most people move on. There is nothing else to be done. Change what you can, but do not become obsessed with the things you wanted to do but never could. With losses and disappointments. Either try again, or try something new. There is plenty more you could excel at.
Today might be slightly to personal to share with the Internet. Today I am emo without the excessive fringe. Today I feel betrayed by circumstance. Today I feel like the uncontrollability of existence is too overwhelming. Today I am Carrion Comfort ( Gerard Manley Hopkins):
| NOT, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee; | |
| Not untwist—slack they may be—these last strands of man | |
| In me ór, most weary, cry I can no more. I can; | |
| Can something, hope, wish day come, not choose not to be. | |
| But ah, but O thou terrible, why wouldst thou rude on me | 5 |
| Thy wring-world right foot rock? lay a lionlimb against me? scan | |
| With darksome devouring eyes my bruisèd bones? and fan, | |
| O in turns of tempest, me heaped there; me frantic to avoid thee and flee? | |
| Why? That my chaff might fly; my grain lie, sheer and clear. | |
| Nay in all that toil, that coil, since (seems) I kissed the rod, | 10 |
| Hand rather, my heart lo! lapped strength, stole joy, would laugh, chéer. | |
| Cheer whom though? the hero whose heaven-handling flung me, fóot tród | |
| Me? or me that fought him? O which one? is it each one? That night, that year | |
| Of now done darkness I wretch lay wrestling with (my God!) my God. |
.
Wednesday, 18 May 2011
Votela
I hope everyone used their democratic right to vote today. I know it is only municipal, but maybe this is more important than the national elections? After all, we do not all reside with the president. He has not issues with trash collection, with pension payouts, with shelters, with hospitals and clinics, with parks, with Metro Police or with roadworks. What does the president do? Represent the country overseas? Make new laws? Get married? But he does nothing really for the everyman. Correct me if I am wrong here, I have a strong dislike for politics and laws and what one may or may not do, so it is highly possible that my opinion is quite ungrounded. But by Zuma's last couple of years of rule, he does not do much.
My friend wanted to do something today. I asked if he went to vote. He said no. Vote or don't, that is your choice. But then do not complain afterwards that something is not to your liking. And he does not. He does not complain. He just accepts. This is the indifference in Generation Y that just pisses me off. We care about ourselves and nothing more. We care about clothes and music and movies and things that are replaceable, but we care nothing about the next generation. Everybody campaigns for climate change and global warming and saving the rhinos, but in the end we do nothing. We buy the R10 bag at Woolworths. We throw money at problems that require action.
And that is why I did not want to meet my friend. Everytime I see him, I have the feeling he judges me for studying, for working hard to get my degree. I don't go to Soweto on Fridays in a taxi because I don't feel like it. Not because I am afraid to. I don't get wasted and drive because I like to live. I don't read Nietzsche or Marx or whomever is cool to the coolkids because I don't care to. I live the life I want the way I want, so please, person, stop thinking your eccentricities make you interesting to anyone but yourself. A cliché can only survive for so long. Go hang around with your coolkid tjommas and live your coolkid life and spend it trying to be some Jay-Jays clad ideal.
I voted.If nothing changes, that is ok. If something does, that is fine to. I don't go around chaining myself to trees and recycling my toilet paper, but this is a start. If this generation just set their mind to it, I am pretty sure we could collectively save the world. We could all wear tiaras and capes. But if the mememe of it all does not change, neither will the world.
.
My friend wanted to do something today. I asked if he went to vote. He said no. Vote or don't, that is your choice. But then do not complain afterwards that something is not to your liking. And he does not. He does not complain. He just accepts. This is the indifference in Generation Y that just pisses me off. We care about ourselves and nothing more. We care about clothes and music and movies and things that are replaceable, but we care nothing about the next generation. Everybody campaigns for climate change and global warming and saving the rhinos, but in the end we do nothing. We buy the R10 bag at Woolworths. We throw money at problems that require action.
And that is why I did not want to meet my friend. Everytime I see him, I have the feeling he judges me for studying, for working hard to get my degree. I don't go to Soweto on Fridays in a taxi because I don't feel like it. Not because I am afraid to. I don't get wasted and drive because I like to live. I don't read Nietzsche or Marx or whomever is cool to the coolkids because I don't care to. I live the life I want the way I want, so please, person, stop thinking your eccentricities make you interesting to anyone but yourself. A cliché can only survive for so long. Go hang around with your coolkid tjommas and live your coolkid life and spend it trying to be some Jay-Jays clad ideal.
I voted.If nothing changes, that is ok. If something does, that is fine to. I don't go around chaining myself to trees and recycling my toilet paper, but this is a start. If this generation just set their mind to it, I am pretty sure we could collectively save the world. We could all wear tiaras and capes. But if the mememe of it all does not change, neither will the world.
.
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