Monday, May 7, 2007
Eish
Why do Mondays feel like being hit in the face with ice-cold water, by the universe? Maybe it's just me...
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Thinking back
I wish it had happened, maybe, when I felt like my life was under control. At least then - I think - I'd be able to deal with it properly. Probably not.
In December last year, after about three years' illness. My father fell ill. I later found out he'd had three strokes over three years - for some reason no one ever explained it to me... But anyway, he'd been ill for years now.
I remember when it first started, almost four years ago. He called me, telling me how he'd started having black-outs. He'd find himself at work, not knowing how he got there. Or he'd be at home, and next thing he knew it'd be hours later. He was all alone, and I know it must have been a lot worse than what he told me at the time.
But he got even worse. Through the now-regular phone calls, I heard my father's demise into this deep dark hole. He'd call and tell me how depressed he was, and how lonely he was, and that he'd gone to church, or he'd gone to his late mother's grave... and slowly, a part of me was sinking with him.
At this point he'd had to take early retirement, and I was taking care of him financially, along with my sister as much as she could, and sometimes my mother (his ex-wife) - anonymously. If I couldn't be there physically, the least I could do was provide for him. And I did. Over and over. Even when I was questioning whether I should be doing this - he wouldn't have exactly gotten the top prize in parenthood - but I knew I'd never forgive myself if I turned my back on him. So I did. Even when I was broke, if I got the call saying he needed money to go to some doctor somewhere for whatever, I brought out the credit cards and swiped away. Now, I know I felt guilty for not being close physically to him.
I remember the first time I realised that my strong, manly man of a dad was ill; I was devastated. I could not imagine how someone as strong as him could just ... be sick. And be weak, and NOT BE ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF?! The proud person that he was, who since he was a young boy had had to face the most difficult circumstances and survived them all on his own...? But there he was.
I remember breaking down in a bathroom stall at work, after speaking to his sister who had just told me that my dad couldn't take a flight alone - he'd get disoriented, and suddenly find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. He could not be alone.
From then to December last year, it's somewhat of a blur. And I'll let it stay that way. Encouraging him; speaking money to my family; mediating when he fought with or upset someone (the stubbornness was still there!); trying to find out exactly which doctor said what...
And in mid December 06, my mother called to tell me I had to go home to see my dad. I'd planned a trip for the following week, but she said the sooner the better. So much of that time sticks to my mind still. Sitting at the edge of my bed, gripping the mattress to keep from collapsing onto the floor, holding back the tears, while my mother's voice soothed me into realising that this time, it could be the end. That I'm an adult and I had to know the truth - my father would be gone. Knowing that if I said one thing, if I even tried, I would burst into tears. My friend was in the lounge next door, I could hear the TV blarring, and I knew all I had to do was stand up and go to her, but I couldn't. So I listened, as I was told that my father was dying. That I had to go home to say goodbye to him. How do you do that? How do you prepare yourself to say goodbye to your parent. And not the goodbye of knowing you'll see them next week or whatever.
It's good-fuckin-bye, and you just have to have faith that you'll see them again. So in case this is forever, what does all this mean? What do you say? This life, for them, and for you with them, is finished. What the fuck do you do with that information?
In December last year, after about three years' illness. My father fell ill. I later found out he'd had three strokes over three years - for some reason no one ever explained it to me... But anyway, he'd been ill for years now.
I remember when it first started, almost four years ago. He called me, telling me how he'd started having black-outs. He'd find himself at work, not knowing how he got there. Or he'd be at home, and next thing he knew it'd be hours later. He was all alone, and I know it must have been a lot worse than what he told me at the time.
But he got even worse. Through the now-regular phone calls, I heard my father's demise into this deep dark hole. He'd call and tell me how depressed he was, and how lonely he was, and that he'd gone to church, or he'd gone to his late mother's grave... and slowly, a part of me was sinking with him.
At this point he'd had to take early retirement, and I was taking care of him financially, along with my sister as much as she could, and sometimes my mother (his ex-wife) - anonymously. If I couldn't be there physically, the least I could do was provide for him. And I did. Over and over. Even when I was questioning whether I should be doing this - he wouldn't have exactly gotten the top prize in parenthood - but I knew I'd never forgive myself if I turned my back on him. So I did. Even when I was broke, if I got the call saying he needed money to go to some doctor somewhere for whatever, I brought out the credit cards and swiped away. Now, I know I felt guilty for not being close physically to him.
I remember the first time I realised that my strong, manly man of a dad was ill; I was devastated. I could not imagine how someone as strong as him could just ... be sick. And be weak, and NOT BE ABLE TO TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF?! The proud person that he was, who since he was a young boy had had to face the most difficult circumstances and survived them all on his own...? But there he was.
I remember breaking down in a bathroom stall at work, after speaking to his sister who had just told me that my dad couldn't take a flight alone - he'd get disoriented, and suddenly find himself in unfamiliar surroundings. He could not be alone.
From then to December last year, it's somewhat of a blur. And I'll let it stay that way. Encouraging him; speaking money to my family; mediating when he fought with or upset someone (the stubbornness was still there!); trying to find out exactly which doctor said what...
And in mid December 06, my mother called to tell me I had to go home to see my dad. I'd planned a trip for the following week, but she said the sooner the better. So much of that time sticks to my mind still. Sitting at the edge of my bed, gripping the mattress to keep from collapsing onto the floor, holding back the tears, while my mother's voice soothed me into realising that this time, it could be the end. That I'm an adult and I had to know the truth - my father would be gone. Knowing that if I said one thing, if I even tried, I would burst into tears. My friend was in the lounge next door, I could hear the TV blarring, and I knew all I had to do was stand up and go to her, but I couldn't. So I listened, as I was told that my father was dying. That I had to go home to say goodbye to him. How do you do that? How do you prepare yourself to say goodbye to your parent. And not the goodbye of knowing you'll see them next week or whatever.
It's good-fuckin-bye, and you just have to have faith that you'll see them again. So in case this is forever, what does all this mean? What do you say? This life, for them, and for you with them, is finished. What the fuck do you do with that information?
Friday, April 20, 2007
Chicken Licken
There’s nothing like a carton (not a plate) of hot wings from Chicken Licken to sort out a hangover. That’s always the association I have with that place. The person who, finally, decided to bring it to Rosebank is my personal hero.
Today, hangover-less, I sat outside Chicken Licken for some hot wings with a new acquaintance, who I soon realised I hope to be a friend. You know, those girl crushes. When you realise how cool a person is and, without trying to seem desperate, can already tell you’d like to hang out with them (if it weren’t for one tiny, little thing).
And sitting in the sun, on a normal work day, we got to know each other. I never would have thought talking about our pasts, would immediately get to the deep, dark things that I’m pretty sure would have freaked anyone else out. Usually you deal with the same shit about where you grew up, your schooling, where you fucking hangout, yadi yada… But, eish, we took it there. Totally oblivious of our surroundings (I remember wondering afterwards if the group of guys quietly sitting next to us was listening), we went on and on for the duration of our meal.
And me, I’m usually the one who sits quietly and eggs you on to share your bit while I contribute very little to the conversation, but that was not the case today.
And it’s not to say I’ve found a new best friend – if anything, I doubt we actually will be friends. But I really appreciated that frankness of that chat, and what happened there – it was quite refreshing, and rare.
Today, hangover-less, I sat outside Chicken Licken for some hot wings with a new acquaintance, who I soon realised I hope to be a friend. You know, those girl crushes. When you realise how cool a person is and, without trying to seem desperate, can already tell you’d like to hang out with them (if it weren’t for one tiny, little thing).
And sitting in the sun, on a normal work day, we got to know each other. I never would have thought talking about our pasts, would immediately get to the deep, dark things that I’m pretty sure would have freaked anyone else out. Usually you deal with the same shit about where you grew up, your schooling, where you fucking hangout, yadi yada… But, eish, we took it there. Totally oblivious of our surroundings (I remember wondering afterwards if the group of guys quietly sitting next to us was listening), we went on and on for the duration of our meal.
And me, I’m usually the one who sits quietly and eggs you on to share your bit while I contribute very little to the conversation, but that was not the case today.
And it’s not to say I’ve found a new best friend – if anything, I doubt we actually will be friends. But I really appreciated that frankness of that chat, and what happened there – it was quite refreshing, and rare.
Time!
Oh My God. Oh My God! Can’t believe I abandoned my new-found obsession so quickly. Feel a bit like a commitment-phobe – following relationship patterns? – but I swear I was committed when I started this blog. I guess this is what happens when you get a new job – where you actually work! Nevermind that I’m convinced the PC I’m using is from the early 80s…
Friday, March 30, 2007
Mo’Faya!
Yesterday, after work, headed for drinks and a dose of comedy (Loy’s baaack!!) at Devine Lounge. All I gotta say is thank God they’re moving away from that place. Come on, R23 for a fucking Savanna??? I know it’s just after payday for some, but that is ridiculous!
Anyway, erm, cheers...
We had the brilliant (ingenious, really) idea of going to Ragga Nite at Horror Care – or Church, as some like to call it. Four years in Jozi, and that’s probably the only place that’s stayed hot ’n happening. Every single time I go there – packed, packed, packed. Beautiful music, beautiful people, and the vibe!
Of course, I had my doubts at the beginning – we got there around 10.30, which is early for that place – and cos I hadn’t been there in such a long time… And the crowd was ummm, rather mixed (some looked like the meant to go to swankier clubs and got lost on the way). Let’s just say I had my doubts.
Aaahhh… one drink, cool beats and great conversation later, I was taken. Then Andy and Jah Seed did their thing! It’s like the place – the crowd, the building, everything – gets this thumping rhythm it moves to and Andy’s got us in the palm of his hand. Too quickly it was over, and by that time (3am?), thoughts of having to wake up to come to work in the morning where creeping on me – too soon! But there was one more drink to be had.
Went home a happy, happy woman. The hangover’s definitely worth it.
Now for that bunny chow…
Anyway, erm, cheers...
We had the brilliant (ingenious, really) idea of going to Ragga Nite at Horror Care – or Church, as some like to call it. Four years in Jozi, and that’s probably the only place that’s stayed hot ’n happening. Every single time I go there – packed, packed, packed. Beautiful music, beautiful people, and the vibe!
Of course, I had my doubts at the beginning – we got there around 10.30, which is early for that place – and cos I hadn’t been there in such a long time… And the crowd was ummm, rather mixed (some looked like the meant to go to swankier clubs and got lost on the way). Let’s just say I had my doubts.
Aaahhh… one drink, cool beats and great conversation later, I was taken. Then Andy and Jah Seed did their thing! It’s like the place – the crowd, the building, everything – gets this thumping rhythm it moves to and Andy’s got us in the palm of his hand. Too quickly it was over, and by that time (3am?), thoughts of having to wake up to come to work in the morning where creeping on me – too soon! But there was one more drink to be had.
Went home a happy, happy woman. The hangover’s definitely worth it.
Now for that bunny chow…
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Choice
(I know this is cheating, I wrote this a while ago, but looking at it today, I really wanted to put it here.)
Choice. That’s a heavy word, so heavy in fact, that most of us seem to ignore it than want to deal with it. It’s probably the best thing about being a person, about being human – that you have a choice. Even our ability to love isn’t as important, because you have to choose to love – that’s when it matters; when you love a person despite the all-too-real stuff that slaps you in the face after you’ve declared your feelings.
Choice. That is, after all, the freedom that God gave us. I’m no religion expert, but somewhere between Sunday school and the numerous non-denomination but mostly Catholicism-based religion movies I’ve watched in my lifetime, I’ve come away with that (and the fact that, like everything else, there seems to be numerous loop-holes in the contract that determines whether you go to heaven or hell). That, after the incalculable blessings He bestows on us each day – most of which we don’t even notice – He can still bear to let us decide, give us the choice of whether we will succumb to His will or not. Mostly, we choose not to.
Choice. I’m not sure why this word kept creeping up on me today. I’ve been feeling good, over the past week. A bad moment here and there … but the night before yesterday I was the worst I’ve been in a while. (Actually, I can actually say when the last time was I felt that awful because it’s when I wrote in my journal – about two weeks back.) But what does me mourning my dad’s death have to do with choice? If I even claimed to know that right now, I’d really be stretching it, but I hope it comes to me soon.
For now, I’ll talk about this six-letter word that’s been pounding at me. I guess for me, personally, what jumps out is that wherever you are in life, you’re there because of choices you made along the way that led you there. You’re also there because you choose to stay there. Even when there are obstacles, you choose to carry on, stay put, or carve out a new path for your self. It’s all choice. It is that simple.
I guess the biggest reason about hating, hating, the whole concept of choice is that, it places responsibility solely in our hands. In the end we can’t blame anyone but ourselves for situations we land up in.
I don’t have a car ’cause I chose to be lazy and not do things on time, now it’s the bane of my existence to try and sort all that out.
I’m overweight ’cause when I could have turned it around, I refused to look at my body too closely and see that all that junk food and alcohol, and bad habits were ruining my body – only now it’s not as easy as when I was a teen to get it back.
I’m here, right now, right here, like this – the good and the bad. Because I chose it all. It’s like when people speak to me about having followed my passion – to work in the media industry. And the question of whether fate chose this path for me. This destiny. Well! When times are hard, which they have been, it’s been my choice, my decision to stick with this path. And it’s been at those times that I chose it, kinda like being in love, as I mentioned earlier.
Of course, there’s times when you find yourself in a certain situation, not due to your own doing, but due to someone else’s. I know that, I have a lot of issues with my dad and, as a result, with men. I’ve always looked to him to help me sort these out. You know, hoping, one day we’ll have that tear-jerking conversation that we’ll let me into his heart a bit more, explain for me who he really is, how he feels, how he thinks, and why he chose to act the way he did. And then, like magic, I would go out and conquer the world – and the man of my dreams. Silly, I know, but I think subconsciously, that thought has always been there.
I had a cathartic moment several years ago, when I realised that my dad is my dad, and he’s a real person with his own issues, and I had to stop expecting him to show me love the way I wanted him to. The only way, I would accept it from him.
I decided to open myself to him as he was, and accept him as he was, and that helped me love him more than I ever thought I would. But that still made me more vulnerable – but that’s how I learnt to have a bit of a tough skin.
The change in tactic, for lack of a better word, also led to me expecting an awareness from him of too. And of the wrongs he’s done me, my mother, my brother …
I guess I wanted him to say he did us – me – wrong. You see? I felt he owed me something. Not even to apologise; just acknowledge the fact.
That never happened. And now I know it never will. You know when someone’s passed away, and people wish they’d told the person they loved them, or how much they meant to them? I told my dad I loved him and how much he meant to me, a lot towards the end – so I have no regrets about that. And I showed it too, as much as I could.
What I missed was this conversation. Maybe it’s another example, yet again, of me wanting more from him. More than he could or wanted to give. I don’t know …
What I do know is that, it’s all on me now. To sort myself out and choose how I want my relationships to go. To look at my life – at all angles – and choose the life I want to live. For me. After all, he was just living his life the way he chose to live it – for himself, right?
Choice. That’s a heavy word, so heavy in fact, that most of us seem to ignore it than want to deal with it. It’s probably the best thing about being a person, about being human – that you have a choice. Even our ability to love isn’t as important, because you have to choose to love – that’s when it matters; when you love a person despite the all-too-real stuff that slaps you in the face after you’ve declared your feelings.
Choice. That is, after all, the freedom that God gave us. I’m no religion expert, but somewhere between Sunday school and the numerous non-denomination but mostly Catholicism-based religion movies I’ve watched in my lifetime, I’ve come away with that (and the fact that, like everything else, there seems to be numerous loop-holes in the contract that determines whether you go to heaven or hell). That, after the incalculable blessings He bestows on us each day – most of which we don’t even notice – He can still bear to let us decide, give us the choice of whether we will succumb to His will or not. Mostly, we choose not to.
Choice. I’m not sure why this word kept creeping up on me today. I’ve been feeling good, over the past week. A bad moment here and there … but the night before yesterday I was the worst I’ve been in a while. (Actually, I can actually say when the last time was I felt that awful because it’s when I wrote in my journal – about two weeks back.) But what does me mourning my dad’s death have to do with choice? If I even claimed to know that right now, I’d really be stretching it, but I hope it comes to me soon.
For now, I’ll talk about this six-letter word that’s been pounding at me. I guess for me, personally, what jumps out is that wherever you are in life, you’re there because of choices you made along the way that led you there. You’re also there because you choose to stay there. Even when there are obstacles, you choose to carry on, stay put, or carve out a new path for your self. It’s all choice. It is that simple.
I guess the biggest reason about hating, hating, the whole concept of choice is that, it places responsibility solely in our hands. In the end we can’t blame anyone but ourselves for situations we land up in.
I don’t have a car ’cause I chose to be lazy and not do things on time, now it’s the bane of my existence to try and sort all that out.
I’m overweight ’cause when I could have turned it around, I refused to look at my body too closely and see that all that junk food and alcohol, and bad habits were ruining my body – only now it’s not as easy as when I was a teen to get it back.
I’m here, right now, right here, like this – the good and the bad. Because I chose it all. It’s like when people speak to me about having followed my passion – to work in the media industry. And the question of whether fate chose this path for me. This destiny. Well! When times are hard, which they have been, it’s been my choice, my decision to stick with this path. And it’s been at those times that I chose it, kinda like being in love, as I mentioned earlier.
Of course, there’s times when you find yourself in a certain situation, not due to your own doing, but due to someone else’s. I know that, I have a lot of issues with my dad and, as a result, with men. I’ve always looked to him to help me sort these out. You know, hoping, one day we’ll have that tear-jerking conversation that we’ll let me into his heart a bit more, explain for me who he really is, how he feels, how he thinks, and why he chose to act the way he did. And then, like magic, I would go out and conquer the world – and the man of my dreams. Silly, I know, but I think subconsciously, that thought has always been there.
I had a cathartic moment several years ago, when I realised that my dad is my dad, and he’s a real person with his own issues, and I had to stop expecting him to show me love the way I wanted him to. The only way, I would accept it from him.
I decided to open myself to him as he was, and accept him as he was, and that helped me love him more than I ever thought I would. But that still made me more vulnerable – but that’s how I learnt to have a bit of a tough skin.
The change in tactic, for lack of a better word, also led to me expecting an awareness from him of too. And of the wrongs he’s done me, my mother, my brother …
I guess I wanted him to say he did us – me – wrong. You see? I felt he owed me something. Not even to apologise; just acknowledge the fact.
That never happened. And now I know it never will. You know when someone’s passed away, and people wish they’d told the person they loved them, or how much they meant to them? I told my dad I loved him and how much he meant to me, a lot towards the end – so I have no regrets about that. And I showed it too, as much as I could.
What I missed was this conversation. Maybe it’s another example, yet again, of me wanting more from him. More than he could or wanted to give. I don’t know …
What I do know is that, it’s all on me now. To sort myself out and choose how I want my relationships to go. To look at my life – at all angles – and choose the life I want to live. For me. After all, he was just living his life the way he chose to live it – for himself, right?
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
3 Things
(inspired by Reluctant Nomad - http://reluctantnomad.blogspot.com - and shared with Moja Cherry - www.myspace.com/sgarabingles)
It's so hard to do just 3 things - list changes all the time, so just had to let go and leave it like this.
3 Things That Scare Me:
Nightmares
That I won't be here one day
That I still haven't grown up
3 People Who Make Me Laugh:
My friends
My mom
Idols contestants
3 Things I Love:
Being with my friends, having sundowners - wherever!
Laughing til I cry
Splurging with my sister
3 Things I Hate:
Ignorance
Tongue (as in, to eat - yuk!!)
Uncertainty
3 Things I Don't Understand:
The word 'avuncular'
Why I'm here
Hatred
3 Things On My Desk:
Water bottle
Books
Loads of mags
3 Things I'm Doing Right Now:
G-chatting
Checking out blogs
Counting the minutes til I can go home
3 Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
Love
Travel the world
Make a record for my descendants
3 Things I Can Do:
Wiggle my ears
Make chicken liver pasta
Love
3 Things I Can't Do:
Small talk
Be rude (politeness could kill me, one day, I fear)
Forget
3 Things I Think You Should Listen To:
Jigga's new album
Your doctor
That voice in your head
3 Things You Should Never Listen To:
What everyone else thinks
Cynics
People who say, 'trust me'
3 Things I'd Like To Learn:
New languages (Spanish, Tswana)
To be more disciplined
To live 100% in the moment
3 Favorite Foods:
My mom's lasagne
Nandos chicken
Beef medallions and mash... yum...
3 Beverages I Drink Regularly:
Water (so nice to say that!)
Herbal tea
Savanna
3 Shows I Watched As A Kid:
The Cosby Show
Loving (seriously, I used to get in my nanny's way, so she'd pluck me in front of the TV and play that. It was quite instrumental in my initial stages of learning English - sad, I know)
A whole bunch of cartoons that I can't think of right now.
It's so hard to do just 3 things - list changes all the time, so just had to let go and leave it like this.
3 Things That Scare Me:
Nightmares
That I won't be here one day
That I still haven't grown up
3 People Who Make Me Laugh:
My friends
My mom
Idols contestants
3 Things I Love:
Being with my friends, having sundowners - wherever!
Laughing til I cry
Splurging with my sister
3 Things I Hate:
Ignorance
Tongue (as in, to eat - yuk!!)
Uncertainty
3 Things I Don't Understand:
The word 'avuncular'
Why I'm here
Hatred
3 Things On My Desk:
Water bottle
Books
Loads of mags
3 Things I'm Doing Right Now:
G-chatting
Checking out blogs
Counting the minutes til I can go home
3 Things I Want To Do Before I Die:
Love
Travel the world
Make a record for my descendants
3 Things I Can Do:
Wiggle my ears
Make chicken liver pasta
Love
3 Things I Can't Do:
Small talk
Be rude (politeness could kill me, one day, I fear)
Forget
3 Things I Think You Should Listen To:
Jigga's new album
Your doctor
That voice in your head
3 Things You Should Never Listen To:
What everyone else thinks
Cynics
People who say, 'trust me'
3 Things I'd Like To Learn:
New languages (Spanish, Tswana)
To be more disciplined
To live 100% in the moment
3 Favorite Foods:
My mom's lasagne
Nandos chicken
Beef medallions and mash... yum...
3 Beverages I Drink Regularly:
Water (so nice to say that!)
Herbal tea
Savanna
3 Shows I Watched As A Kid:
The Cosby Show
Loving (seriously, I used to get in my nanny's way, so she'd pluck me in front of the TV and play that. It was quite instrumental in my initial stages of learning English - sad, I know)
A whole bunch of cartoons that I can't think of right now.
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