Good Mourning

We have all been made acutely of the ill health of our beloved former President Nelson Mandela. There have been many opinions regarding the media's coverage of this 'event' and the families involvement, all of which valid etc. and yet the one opinion that irks me beyond belief is that of disregard. 

This lack of feeling and empathy is one that I cannot seem to grasp. Coupled with acute lack of knowledge or appreciation regarding our history generally makes me feel what I term the equivalent of hulking-out. 

Is it me or does there seem to be a sense of ambivalence to our heritage?

Now I may not be the biggest observer of culture etc, having said that I do tend to be immensely patriotic. Like I hear the anthem and get tear-y, I watch Desmond Tutu be amazing and get tear-y, I meet someone who zero knowledge of why we celebrate Youth Day and I get agro. 

How is it that you've grown up in a country that birthed the Freedom Charter, that imprisoned those who fought against racial oppression and finally a nation that has seen the end of mass injustice and moved on to have one of the most democratic and free constitutions in the world, and not be proud of your land of birth. 

It saddens me that these are the same people who no longer feel safe to walk the streets of their own home, who feel that immigration is the only answer when having children and yet believe that women get raped because they dress a certain way and of course this gem, "Sure Nelson Mandela did good stuff but its not like apartheid affected me so I really don't care."

If you're wondering if this tirade came from a very upsetting conversation then yes, you would be right. 

What I wonder is if this is the attitude of those who are barely 5 years younger than me, then what hope does the next generation have? 

The sadness I feel at this loss of cultural identity cannot be described...if we cannot love the land of our birth, embrace its goodness and impurities, it's failings and positives then where do we find ourselves. How do we establish our identity in a land we do not identify with...

Lots of questions...not enough answers. But then again questions can only be answered on whatever route your journey has for you...

Okay it's time to be silent. This post was a bit of a downer, a lot of a tirade and the majority sadness. But alas tomorrow is a better day. 

Patrick Stewart Gives Passionate Response to Question At Comicpalooza 2013

And this is why men need to be more proactive in trying to end violence against women.

If you're a boy person and you're reading this, watch this video. If Professor X can do it, what's your excuse?
If you're a girl person, share this with your boy persons!

Forgive the generalization, but as perpetrators of the crime (many of you aren't we know and appreciate that) help remove the stigma from your gender. Educate other men.

Curing Feminism

This is Kait Rokowski: How to Cure a Feminist (Spoken-Word).

Play it.
Listen to it.
Internalize it.
Share it.

Time is on my side...?

The concept of time is one that fascinates and angers. There's always either too much or too little of it to go around. And no, time has never stood still.

Right now I seem to be on the prepuce of the next phase of my life. And yet it seems all I want to do is hurtle forward and grab onto it with open arms.

It seems that no matter what stage you are on your journey you always appear to be striving and looking for something better. But then again therein lies the beauty of our existence. The hope...the longing.

Having said all this, it is time to come to terms with my age. Do I feel 18? Fok yaaa!! Do I want to be 18 again? Erm no. As much as the number doesn't seem to fit the inner, the number has afforded me some interesting twists and turns...all of which is propelling me forward through the rest of the journey.

So right now I make a decision.
Stop willing the passing of time.
Stop missing a number.
Just exist in the present.
Be present.
Do all the good you can in your present.

Making Sense...

There comes a point in your life in which years of messages seem to suddenly make sense. As if whilst you understood the words, the meaning has finally become clearer. It seems as though somewhere along your journey certain thoughts were planted, took root and now began to unfurl its leaves.
(Sorry for the imagery, I'm trying this new thing were I don't write like an illiterate douche.)

It this post has been fairly hard to put into words, the story seems to be long and convoluted and yet is only made up of a series of moments.
I knew that this year, this age was going to be something big. It was going to mean something, a year in which things would sort of fall into place. To an extent there seems to be some puzzle pieces that have found a home. Apparently this is the year of mass conscientization.

I've always been the accommodating sort and well to be honest a push over. However these last few months have in some way altered my state from Cowardly Lion to a little less Cowardly Lion- if you we're me, you'd know this is an achievement. So when anecdotes, current events and retarded conversation stirred a rage monster within I was feeling quite pleased. No I'm not the Hulk. So FBI turn away, you will not find me-er I mean him today.

Before I continue to meander along a path I'm still trying to make sense of, all I will say I that my beliefs, thoughts and resolves are becoming resolute. Not just resolute but strong. I seem to have found a sense of conviction. Color me pleased.

Now whilst I've always been a feminist at heart, I think it was purely a label thing. Im not entirely sure if i accept all the dogma that comes with the terminology but for now i don't think my attitude towards the term has been fully processed.
What I do know is that my life has been filled with strong women, tenacious women, beautiful women who have been abused, disrespected and violated. And it seems as though years of refusing to make assumptions or calls on beauty, refusing to sweep the floors whilst my male cousin played, forcefully refusing to make tea for 'the men' and various other acts of conviction, not rebellion but conviction, have led to a singular moment of clarity.

The inequality is enough.

Growing Up & Getting On

You know there's a point in your life were you really have to admit defeat.
I admit it.
Defeated.

Defeat 1:
Being consistent has never been my forte therefore consistently blogging is something that will probably never happen.
Truth be told I spend most of my day writing so that by the time I get to my allocated 'blog-writing-time' I'm pretty much all written out.

Sadly admitting this little defeat may be one of the most grown-up things I've done in the last few days. Let's all observe a moment of silence for the awkwardness of this statement, seeing as how I totes just got engaged. Which bt-dubs high five me and fiancé! I heart this man, I would attempt to describe him but words fail me. All I will say though is that he makes my heart smile.

Defeat 2:
The second stage of admitting defeat is acknowledging my next and rather huge short coming. Growing up is hard when you still live at home. A little thing made that much worst if you're a single. What's that you ask? Well you're certainly not one.
A single aka 'the only child' offers you an individual who is pretty much a mixed bag of nuts. Note whilst personal experience is predominant in my research of this topic, I have many close friends who are also singles, we've apparently lived the same lives minus god hair- she has it, not me.

Finding myself at age 26 living at home and having developed a fairly decent relationship with the parental units, life isn't all that bad.
Till it happens. Correction of words, statements or even behaviors.
And here it is the purpose of this post. Where do you draw the line? At which point does one shift from the role of child to the role of adult?
Is it our life phase that determines how we will be treated or is it merely a case of parents will always be parents?

Gaining a significant other isn't the answer nor is a conversation discussing roles and their alterations- let be known regardless of how evolved your units may be, this course of action should be approached with caution as it almost always ends in disaster.

Finally the point which I'm seeming to side with (probably cos I'm a pansy who hates confrontation which odd given how confrontational and blunt I can be) is maybe its all in my head. It's an only child fall back answer. We have no siblings to bounce shit off and eventually decide its us that's cray cray and everyone else is perfectly sane.

This internal Hamlet like drama combined with a now unhealthy love for a certain unmentionable planned event leads me to believe I may just need a break. Back to writing fiction I think.

Whatever the case it seems that it's an issue for me and if I'm feeling it I doubt I'm alone. I mean I may be hip and cool and with it but lesbihonest an original thought is hard to come by, especially at 12:20am.

Signing off...word...yo...holla!

Caged Birds: Update Two!

Now let it be known that given the trauma of the last 72 hours the fact that Melissa and I now have both a lead female and male makes us both entirely happy!

Do they know the lines? No! But do we care? Erm sort of but we can work on that! And quite honestly, after our first meeting I’m feeling quite pleased! Having said that tonight (19 Feb 2013) is the first official day of filming! Woo added with all kinds of hoo are being felt! And mass amounts of freak out!

Thanks to the wonderful human’s at the Department of Drama and Performance Studies at UKZN, we have secured thee perfect venue for our “surreal” scenes. Do I hear the question, “Pray tell gentle lady, what be the plot of this hallowed piece?” My response? “Ain’t nobody got time for that! Go check it out bitch! Word! Peace out! ” *drops mike*

Let it be known that being back in the beautiful bush like atmosphere of the Drama Department made me happy and tingly and all kinds of ways! Note ALL theatre’s smell exactly the same! Except the one in which you spent the vast majority of four years in. Combined with the memories of the ghost of Studio 5, one brotha-from-anotha-motha leaving me in the proverbial lurch whilst under attack (it was a homey, it was dark, he was a pansy).

So lay the scene in which our filming took place, a space in which memories haunt just like the agro theatre ghost that lives therein.

First up, lighting checks! With Melissa arranging the camera, I began sorting out our ginormous lights whilst our actors found themselves in various stages of undress and rehearsal. All was well till we realised that my oh-so-fancy Nikon D3100 only shoots 21 seconds of film. Darn you, advertising demons!!!! Quick swop to Canon and they were off! Melissa...you are a tech god! I bow down! 

The first few scenes went off without a hitch! That was until Brett decided to be his usual filthy self (dude where the heck was it at varsity? We totes would have been bffs if I knew!!)

Followed by multiple takes, line screw up’s, general rudeness and forgetting of lines by one singular member of the cast who-shall-not-be-named-even-though-she-knows-who-she-is-but-like-I-said-I’m-not-naming-names! P.S Sister-friend you done good!

The night culminated with all fancy scene’s being shot and a close to midnight walk in the rain…all the way up to main campus…with equipment and alles in tow!

Guy’s this is promising! I’m pleased! Wooo-hooo!!