The explanation for my disappearing act.

Wow, it’s been a while! I feel as though I’ve betrayed my blog by not posting anything for such a period of time. There are reasons for this though, I promise.

Check out www.myjozi.co.za

Just thought I’d pop in and punt this really cool website that I am so proud to be a part of. Dale (a good friend of mine) and I have been working hard to get some great content going about relevant things happening in Jozi. We have amazing visions for this website as its readership grows daily.
We have been busy at media events and all sorts of other affairs, rubbing shoulders with celebs and getting MyJozi out there. This site is going places very quickly.
Keep a look out for great reviews and articles about what’s happening in Jozi. It’s everything Jozi related and offers a fresh and intriguing perspective into life in this bustling city.
See you there, or here really soon.

Am I getting old or am I still hung over?

I recently turned 24 and with it came the odd comment that suggested I’m “approaching the hill.” Now I don’t know about you, but when someone tells me that I’m getting old, I take great offense! So when I received these sny, sny comments, I shrugged them off and laughed. I am at the end of the day only 24- that’s hardly old, right? Well, did I have a bit of a wake- up call this weekend.
Nothing screams “you’re maturing in life” more than a weekend at Spring Break. I don’t know quite what I was expecting because BOY OH BOY, did I feel like a granny. WTF!
I found myself waking up at 02:30 (very parched and slightly hung over I might add) to teenagers being teenagers in the corridors of the hotel. Now normally I would be one of those loud mouth, badasses, waking everyone up and not caring about what those elder than ourselves thought. This time I found myself being one of the elderly with my head sticking out of the door of the hotel, asking the stumbling, drunken kids as politely as possible to refrain from acting like two year olds. The problem is, as I was walking towards the door I thought “what are you doing? Stop walking, you are behaving like a 60 year old.” But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, I still ended up doing it (she says as she blushed furiously!)
As if that is not bad enough, whilst walking to breakfast at 09:00 in the morning, (WTF?) some little squirt who still happened to be drinking, called me a tannie! A tannie??
I seem to be having some sort of quarter life crisis. If anyone feels like boosting my confidence, please feel free. Otherwise I love chocolate and shopping for bags!

English lesson one.

I have decided to give a quick English lesson. This is dedicated to those who are not aware of the basic laws of English. Please take note of this and if need be, write it down or at the very least store it in your mental pocket.

"My daughter are driving me crazy." No people, this is not how we speak English, infact it’s not even how the Poms speak English and they suck at it!

Now please concentrate.

It is, “My daughter is driving me crazy.”

I don’t want to overdo it in one day, I wouldn’t want to fry your brains. Now read closely.

It’s not “Me and my wife.” It is “My wife and I.”

I hope that wasn’t too much to take in on one day.

Desiderata

My love for poetry has been life- long. I have always found words to be comforting to read and an escape when written. The thing I love most about writing is that every now and then someone gets it right. They use the perfect words, tone and approach and somehow it strikes the right chord within you.

This is a piece of writing that I fell in love with years ago. I thought twice about sharing it but many of you may already know it, besides, who am I to keep such a piece of perfection to myself?

I agree with every line, word and idea. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons;
they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain or bitter,
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs,
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals,
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love,
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment,
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be.
And whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life,
keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann - penned in the roaring 1920's

A swear word a day keeps the stress levels away

Everyone loves to use a little expressive language every now and then. By expressive, I mean bad language, swearing or as my mother would call it, “foul language.” It certainly does add some texture to a conversation. I mean what grabs you more? “Could you possibly keep quiet for five minutes, please” or “Shut your fucking pie hole you doos.”

Now obviously there is a time and place for everything. I’m not about to walk into my relatives’ house and start swearing but nothing grinds my bones more than those pampas arses who look down at you when you swear, because after they have a couple drinks, no word that comes out of their mouths is present in the English Dictionary. Seriously you stupid, stupid, hypocrite if you remembered half the things that you did while you were drunk then you probably wouldn’t be complaining about everyone swearing. You would be hiding under a rock somewhere in shame.

I really don’t think that swearing defines who you are as a person. I know many successful people who swear like troopers. They are colorful and exciting. I’m not saying it’s the language they use that makes them that way, but instead the fact that they are not afraid to hold back. If you are able to live life and not vent your frustrations verbally then you are probably perfect and props to you. My advice- get a life!

Whoever said that swearing is a sign of evil in one’s heart has never met a Vega student- a bunch of amazing people with dreams and goals that would stretch from Earth to Mars and back again. Although we spent 3 years together polishing our talents and preparing for the big bad world, the majority of the words that came out of our mouths are the kind of words that are generally “beeped” out on TV for the sake of children and the more conservative type (blah.) Never before have I met a group of people with so much love in their hearts and minds.

To all the “fuckers” and “shitters” of this world- keep it up. Your expression and moments of vulnerability are inspiring and as close to the truth as you could get.

Rude food

My lunch gave me inspiration to write this blog post. Yes, my lunch! While I was eating spaghetti bolognaise (and trying not to get it all over my face) I was reminded of one of my absolute biggest hates. I know it’s silly, because we are all human and it is inevitable, but it grinds me when I can hear people chewing.

When I am sitting at a table, eating food with other people, and I can hear the crunching of their food in their mouths, I come close to losing it. This applies to swallowing liquids too. That sound makes me want to pull my hair out. Is there honestly a need to swallow so vigorously? Your drink isn’t going to grow fins and swim away. I realize that this is something that cannot be helped but I’m allowed to voice my opinion. We live in a country where freedom of speech is a right. It is still a right isn’t it?

I have a name for a certain number of foods.

Rude Foods

These consist of anything that makes an earth shattering noise when bitten into or that are bound to make an embarrassing mess. Not to mention the sound that they make when you are chewing on them. Things like:

▪ Mielies

▪ Rusks

▪ Bread that has been heated up to the point where it is hard (very yummy with melted butter on top)

▪ Spaghetti Bolognaise

This blog post isn’t going to make me any friends. In fact it will probably make me loose a couple. But please, this is a plea to anyone who I will come into contact with. When you are around me, do not eat the above foods and if you feel the need to, then tell me so that I can leave the continent.

Many thanks.

What happens to your mother when she turns 60...

Yesterday (9^th August) was not only Women’s Day, it was also my mom’s birthday. Not just any birthday, it was her 60^th. You would expect someone who is just about to turn 60 to be slowing down. You wouldn’t think that they would be very active anymore. By active I mean dancing, drinking (like a fish) and then still able to wake up at the crack of dawn and function like a normal human being the next day with no signs of a hangover.

Well that’s what I expected. I was terribly mistaken. My mother has impressed me to the point where I feel like I’m the one who should be 60. Perhaps there was a body swap somewhere along the line.

Let me go back a couple days. On Friday we went out for Chris’s birthday. Like I do, I was dancing, drinking, dancing, drinking and at 02:30 I had enough. That was me- done! A couple of hours of fun and I was ready for bed. As much as I hate to admit it (at the age of 24- nearly) I cannot handle two nights in a row anymore- sad story, I know.

However on Sunday afternoon my mother’s friend of many years arrived from Cape Town to join my mother for her birthday party that we were having on the 9^th (Monday.) As they have done for many years, the two of them cracked open a few bottles of champagne and wine and proceeded to drink into the night- not forgetting that we need to wake up early, set up and cook the next morning to get everything ready for my mom’s 60^th birthday party. I (being the loser I am) went to bed early whilst they were still up. If there is one thing I hate, it is being tired the next day while having important things to do.

At 07:30 the next morning I wake up to the sounds of pots, pans, excited voices and dogs barking. My mother is already up, getting everything ready. I ask you, with tears in my bonnie blues, how the woman (now 60) is able to function like that with the amount of alcohol she consumed the night before.

We all spend the morning setting up. The juke box arrives, the alcohol and food is all set out, the balloons are blown up and hung (what a mission- best way to get blisters) and we all get ready to have a party.

Needless to say my mother and all the guests spend the day drinking (starting to sound like my mother is an alcoholic- she isn’t, I promise) and dancing to music through the ages. I remained sober so that I could clean, wash dishes and make sure everyone had what they needed (never again!)

By 20:00 I was exhausted. My feet were so sore I had to soak them in a bath. While I was doing that, guess where my parents and their friends were? Still drinking and reminiscing about the good old days as they listened to the lyrics of some of their favorite music. I brave the night and decide to join the party.

You know your father is drunk when you have a conversation with him that is as follows:

Dad: Whaat you dwrinking there Lexyy?

Lexy: Its Fanta Orange

Dad: But why yoou dwrinking Cane?

Lexy: It’s Fanta dad, not Cane

Dad: Yees, buut why soo much Cane?

Lexy: Its Fanta

To bed I went, too tired to argue with my drunk father (as much as I do love him- he can be the most frustrating person to talk to when he is drunk.)

I have learnt something about age. It’s not the number that defines you, it’s the determination to live life, have fun and do as many things as possible, while you still can.

At the age of 60, my mother inspires me more than she ever has before. It’s not just her drinking, dancing and social side that I am inspired by, but her determination and passion. I only hope to be that much fun when I am 60.

Love you mom!