Halcyon Days

Simply FABiLUS

2011-12-22T23:28:00.004+02:00

7 days ago at 10:30pm on a Thursday night I walked into a rustic eatery two blocks away from my home in Observatory. I was tired, and a little annoyed at my husband for invoking the power of our relationship to convince me to come and meet the owners of the place.

Fabio, a happy-go-lucky Italian economics major and Wesley, an ex-programmer from Durban, had just opened their vegetarian-only restaurant that Monday and they had big ideas for converting the space they had rented into an open Artists Collective and Cultural Exchange such as Observatory had never seen.

They drank strong coffee and talked into the wee hours... by the time I arrived the topic was deeply philosophical and ranged between Anarchy vs. Capitalism, the importance of community and the ethics of vegetarian cooking.

I only had to spend a short amount of time with these charming and attractive young men to realise that we were all kindred spirits, and that much of our beliefs and ideas overlapped. I was hooked!

They needed people to help them run the shop because they were short staffed, but they were frank about the fact that money was too tight to mention. Arno and I felt so powerfully about the worth of the idea they were trying to establish that we joined their cause without reservation and in exchange for our meals.

It very quickly transpired that our biggest value would be in the realm of the kitchen. Arno's incredible cooking very quickly became a hit - customers wistfully commented that his food made them miss their mother's home cooking and dozens of people expressed amazement at the fact that such simple and un-fucked up food could be so good. Arno and I brought our belief in eating what you think smells good (within the basic boundaries of basic balanced meals) to the menu, and it was soon decided that we would not have a fixed menu but rather simply offer a set meal of the day (as chosen by the chef who cooked it) and a selection of bespoke smoothies alongside the usual coffees and teas.

Very soon Arno and I were both practically living in the shop. Every single one of our team members did their level best to be on duty as long and often as possible, usually at least 12-16 hours a day. We all believed so passionately in this collective dream of ours that we were willing to sacrifice whatever we could muster to help our dream survive.

Unfortunately this was not enough. Not one, but two of our financial backers abruptly absconded without so much as an explanation, and suddenly Wesley and Fabio were left high and dry having spent their investments on renovations, fittings, furniture and equipment. Suddenly left without a cent of running expenses to float our company through the difficult early months, we floundered. Before we knew it the dream had been scuppered, and all seemed lost.

But this is where the story really starts.

In the seven days that we grew to know each other better we became a family. The pure unselfish sacrifice that each of our team members brought to the project was inspiring. Fabio, while working a day job to help float himself financially, would come in the evenings after a long day at the office and still work until closing time. Wesley gave up almost every cent he had trying to keep us in running capital, and would often be awake from 5am until after midnight, and ended up doing the dishes most of the time. Bianca, a Swiss language teacher, would come and help out on her off days after working a 12 hour shift as a barmaid. Arno and I did our best to show them the good Afrikaans Protestant work ethic. For those seven days I learned what it meant to have a group of people who could work together almost seamlessly. In those seven days there was not one cruel or harsh word spoken between us, despite us all being under undue pressure to make ends meet. We had meetings often, and everyone's opinion was respected and valued. We debated new ideas and made decisions as a team, often unanimously. We all knew what was at stake, we all had a shared vision, and so we all just got on with the work at hand. Most evenings we would end the day by sharing the leftover dinner from our day's preparations and drinking our signature fruit water ( water with a slice of whatever fresh fruits were available. My favourite was Melon and Mint)

When it finally came to the day when Wesley, who held the lease in his name, had to inform our landlord that we would default on our rent in January and request a cancellation of our contract, the weather chose to tell the whole of the neighbourhood of our sorrow - it was cold and dark and wet all day. Everyone in the store could sense the change in our mood and it seemed things were to be as dark and grey as the weather.

However, the following day, exactly one week after we first met, we decided to have a ceremonial drunk. We all sat around the table with glasses of red wine and played poker with dried chillies for chips. Then we had a rather wonderful philosophical discussion about Polyamory, after which we all sat down to what would likely be our last meal together as the Fabilus team. We had fantastic potjiekos with fresh ciabatta and rice; to a man, every one of us overate.

We had, in a way, survived a great challenge together - even though in the end we lost - and through this loss we were bonded together as friends. The love I came to feel for my teammates will never be lost, and the joy of our shared experience will never be taken away. I will always have the wonderful music that I copied from Fabio's iPhone - beautiful jazz that became Fabilus' signature sound and will always remind me of how uncomplicated and kind Fabio was. I will always remember the way that Bianca smoked her vanilla rolled cigarettes and would help steer our meetings when they went off track by bringing out her detailed little notebook. Wesley's cheerfulness and willingness to always be the first to help out even when he was visibly dead on his feet. I'll remember the madness of us having cold showers in the back yard while someone held watch at the back door; of braaing potjiekos on a simple brick fireplace in the back yard. Watching people play chess through the front windows on our hand-painted board, and having the umbrellas make Cape Town Flowers when the wind got especially strong and nearly lifted them out of our make-shift mountings. Buying vegetables with Wesley at the market, buying malva pudding with Fabio, hugging Bianca after she changed her mind about needing a hug after Lucas (our arch enemy and one of the investors who pulled out) visited the shop briefly. Falling asleep on the hideous green couch with the pink cloth over it. Making hummus for the first time. Eating gourmet food every day for a week. Drawing the menu in chalk on the wall, a different dish each day. The dress that Hans gave me that he thought couldn't possibly be his own design because it was too bohemian. Making our own chocolate ice cream. Seeing Arno more happy than I've known him to be in years - more even than a vacation could have achieved.

So what if we will be entering the New Year not a cent richer for the work we did for Fabilus? We have nevertheless been enriched by the experience; our hearts are lighter and more at peace than they have been in years.

Thank you, Fabilus. We will miss you.

Grief and Shame

2011-10-04T11:23:00.007+02:00

For many years I have thought that surely, having been diagnosed with a mental illness in my childhood, and having been in treatment almost the whole of my life I must have progressed a goodly ways along the path of grieving for the life I would never have because I am ill.

It has dawned on me just today that I have, instead, grown very very good at denial. I have been a fugitive from my grief for almost two decades now right from the first time as a ten year old I visited the local library and took out every book I could find about my disorder. I had been diagnosed for 6 years by that time, and I had become curious about what the Scientific community had to say about my disorder - I had grown frustrated with the lack of communication and education I was receiving from my parents and therapists. What does it mean to have this disorder? How am I different from a person who doesn't have this disorder? What can I do to minimise the effect it has on my life? All reasonable questions for any patient to ask when he receives a diagnosis.

What I read back then about the devastating effect it has - on your performance in school, in the workplace, in your personal relationships,on your lifespan - terrified me. I understood why nobody wanted to tell me anything about what this disorder would mean for my life.

I wondered whether it was realistic of me to hope that medication could ever help me get to that "normal" place on a permanent (or even semipermanent) basis. Would I ever be able to live a "normal" life? Would I always feel this maladjusted, and unhappy?

Ever since I was ten I have been running away from the answer to these questions - perhaps because even at ten I understood the truth that my symptoms are pervasive and their effect strikes to the heart of how we judge the value and worth of our lives: Wealth, health, the ability to be a productive and respected member of society, the desire to be self-supporting, the ability to love and be loved.

I spoke to no one of what I had learned, and I swore in my heart that it would NEVER happen to me. I would buck the trend. I'd crush the bell-curve with my boot. I would work harder, I would be smarter, I would learn coping skills, I would compensate, I would box it and bottle it and it would never ever destroy MY life. Never.

It really isn't a wonderful thing for a child to be precocious. I think they learn things too soon, before they know how to live with the things they learn.

Perhaps it took a day when I wasn't depressed anymore. A day when I felt good about myself and I believed that my life is worthwhile and that I am worthwhile. A day when could find the strength to stop running away from my grief. I think perhaps that day is today.

I have been trying for so very long to hide my illness. I have, over the years, been forced through one humiliating failure after another: Inability to maintain a career, trouble maintaining relationships, trouble sustaining good habits of self-care, failure to perform to my potential at work or study... tick box after tick box. I felt increasingly condemned to being a textbook example of "The effects for mental illness and developmental disorders on an individual".

And I was deeply and profoundly ashamed.

Brene Brown's research on shame and connectedness has had a profound effect on my mental health in the past year, and the heart of her research was the great truth that shame unravels connectedness. We all have shame, and the more we hide it and don't talk about it, the more it gnaws at us and makes us feel alone and unconnected. So I have begun to reveal more and more of my shame, in the hope that perhaps sharing it will help me feel less disconnected from the people I love and the world in general.

I was ashamed that I forget to bathe. That my house presents a health hazard almost half the year. That I am usually too depressed to do my fair share of the housework with my husband. That I struggle to make and maintain friendships.That I have a serious problem with my weight. That I have been struggling with sexual dysfunction for many years. That I am unable to remain gainfully employed. That I suffer from such severe mood-swings that I sometimes want to harm myself and others, and that have on occasion tried to do so.

But...lately I've begun to notice an odd thing: When I talk about being ill, I get better. When I admit to being lonely, I make friends. When I feel too ill to do anything, those friends help me out. The secret, it seems, was not to keep things secret.

I think so many of we - the "different" - are subject to great suffering, simply because we have imprisoned ourselves in a cage of shame, guilt, anxiety and grief over our failure to perform to the standards that society has set for us - and more often the standards we have set for ourselves.

We never speak of it except jokingly. We never weep where anyone can see us. We hide our illnesses and the effect it has on us so completely that we begin to live a lie. "You have medication now. You should be normal. Pull up your socks!" seems to be the subliminal message we all live by.

It has made psychiatric and developmental disorders invisible in society in just as effective a way as it was made invisible a hundred and fifty years ago by incarcerating the mentally ill in mental hospitals and chaining them to their beds - except society pats itself on the back and imagines that we are so very much more enlightened now then we were back then.

Then of course there are the countless people who still say such very insensitive and ridiculous things: "Mental illness is a choice." "Everyone is mentally ill these days, it's just a fad." "Medication is just a way for them to control your mind and make you a sheep."

My response to this is becoming almost an allergic reaction. In the words of Tim Minchin "Does the idea that a evening spent reading Wikipedia might enlighten you, frighten you?" With so much solid, properly referenced information at your fingertips, why do so many people still propagate belief systems concoted by glib, fast talking television personalities who have no credentials save their proximity to a celebrity, or founded in a denial of the fact that just perhaps they also might be "different".

In the age of such overwhelming and extensive Scientific research into the workings of the mind, when we know more about the way the brain works than ever before in the history of our world, WHY is it so difficult for people to accept that psychiatry isn't a form of quackery and that the illnesses described by their research are not some form of "get out of responsibility for free" card but rather a painful and tragic diagnosis that deserves the same empathy and understanding as diabetes, heart disease or cancer.

I don't want to lie anymore. I don't want to hide anymore. I don't want to feel that I am alone when I know that statistics indicate that between 2-7 percent of the population of Earth suffers from this disorder too, That's more nearly half a billion people worldwide. That doesn't even include other people who suffer from other psychiatric and developmental disorders - schizophrenics, major depressives, people with ADHD, people with various forms of delusions and psychosis, people with eating disorders, people with OCD, people on the Autistic spectrum - the list is endless.

The world does not only belong to ableminded people and I am not alone.

I am ashamed that I have a mental illness and I feel that despite my best efforts to fight back,it has devastated my life. I grieve for the loss I have suffered in quality of life just as a lupus sufferer grieves because of the loss of quality of life they suffer.

But I am loved, and I have friends. I have some good medication and my life is a good one. I am not afraid to admit that I am mentally ill, because I am beginning to realise that I am not ashamed of it any more - there is nothing to be ashamed of.

So tell me, what is it you are you ashamed of?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gd9OhYroLN0&feature=relmfu

Making New Friends

2011-02-12T10:15:00.004+02:00

Ladies and Gentleman of the Class of 2013. If I can give you only one piece of advice Suncreen would be it. (Especially given how my back looks after the sports day.)

After what has been a emotionally and physically challenging first week at AFDA, I was lying in bed unwinding my tightly wound coil of anxiety by talking to my husband. Mostly in his sleep.

I told him of the talented, intelligent and complex people I had been meeting and how I felt for the first time that I was among people who were like me - open, gregarious, positive, expressive but also sometimes brash, loud anxious and fragile. I felt liberated. Then a few things occured to me and I had a few ideas...

I was raised by artists who were poor and who were desperately unhappy for most of their adult lives. When I grew up I wanted nothing of the life of an artist, and in making that choice disowned a great part of who I was. I tried to be more academic, scientific, logical. I tried to be less spontaneous, impulsive and disinhibited. I studied Biochemistry. I learned to operate a computer from only the command line. For a while I did a pretty good job of passing for a geek - in fact I think I actually became one.

To have had the week I've had, the conversations and the fun and the beauty of hearing people sing, or watching them dance has been awesome. I feel as if I have walked into a field full of wildflowers in a riot of colours.

No one I have met isn't in their own my as passionate about the things they are interested in as I am about my interests, and they are all creative minds who are capable of invention and the creation of beauty. Where beauty, passion and invention coincide you find great discoveries like the lightbulb, the personal computer, Facebook or Blair Witch Project, Slumdog Millionaire and District 9. I feel priviliged to know them all.

When I look at the size and shape of the groups that we'll be working in I can't help but feel that it will be a lot like working with family. In fact, if we treat each other like we are all part of a family, we'll go a long way toward keeping things respectful, positive and kind. There are no disposable people. If someone is being a bitch or causing a problem I like to talk it over with someone older and wiser before responding to the problem - I've gotten a lot of good advice that way. Sometimes there are ways of recovering relationships that have become sour. I don't want to have enemies in this industry so I really make an effort not to write people of too easily.

Something I've learned from experience is that I can be far more creative and effective when I'm not stressed out of my bracket by social drama. I'm so impressed with how little interpersonal drama I've seen so far which makes me think that we're going to be a pretty good group and create some pretty stunning stuff.

:)

C.

The story of our first date.

2011-01-31T12:09:00.006+02:00

"...vulnerability is the core of shame and fear and our struggle for worthiness, but it appears that it's also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, of love." - Brene Brown

Today my husband told me the story of our first date.

I believe it is customary, in most normal marital relationships, for each partner to have some recollection of the events of their first date. For this reason it has always left me with a profound sense of shame when it occurred to me that I could not, for all my best efforts, recall the day I met my husband in person for the first time.

There are many other things I don't remember. For the first three years I did not know my own wedding date, and I still have to call my husband at least half the time someone wants to know his birth date.

I had always been ashamed to be so very absent-minded. Having been a child diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, I had been drilled on the shame of being late for appointments, forgetting birthdays and names, forgetting to keep a promise etc. etc. etc. By the time I was 10, I was quite terrified of forgetting. I felt like Dora the fish, or that girl in 50 First Dates - my mind was broken.

I hated forgetting or becoming distracted, and I was almost obsessively careful never to admit to it unless I felt it would be socially acceptable. Having felt the shame of forgetting so important a date as our first date, it never occurred to me that my husband would have been happy to remind me.

As is his way, he told me only the facts. He recalled how he arrived in a bakkie with his friend. He recalled that I was sitting on the metal garden chairs in my parent's garden. I wore a black top, and my pants were easy to unzipper.

At this point I smiled and felt a certain thrill, the kind often described in trashy romance novels as a frisson. Here I was, a grown up woman, hearing the story of her own seduction as a innocent young thing. Wonderment!

He took me with him in his mind: We drove to the nearby mall, and we watched the movie Swordfish. Neither of us remember the film well – we were otherwise occupied (Here he smiled like a sunny day). We petted in the back of the bakkie while his friend had a beer in the nearby bar.

And then I remembered. I remembered it for myself.

It flooded back. Being nervous and exited and terribly flattered that a young man who goes to University and is three years older than me and who had to travel two hours from Pretoria to Johannesburg to see me would want to come and meet me.

I remembered how we played and fondeled like good little closeted Afrikaans kids do when their parents aren't watching. I remembered my old boyfriend calling me on my cellphone, and me admitting that I was “with the new man in my life” just to cut him off, and then feeling afraid that I had admitted too much of how I felt about my new beau within his earshot.

I remembered more. I rememebered being just a kid, head over heels in love. I remembered the midnight texting and sexting. The cybering. The emails. The long philosophical discussions(which were to become a mainstay of our relationship). I remembered my V-shaped tops that had only spagetthi straps in the back and my hipsters that showed off my bellybutton.

I remembered reading Isaac Asimov for the first time. Larry Niven. Robert Heinlein.

In that moment of remembering it struck me that I was feeling a sense of joy so great that I wanted to soar up into the sky and do loop-de-loops. Here were the tender, beautiful days of my courtship brought vividly to life in my mind again.

It struck me then how much of a fool I had been. This happiness had always been there for the taking. I could have felt this moment again each time I asked him to tell me the story.

Today we have been a couple for 3467 days, and for the first time I wasn't afraid to admit that I didn't remember our first date.

Suddenly I realised there were many other things I have been ashamed to admit I had forgotten. Many things that my husband, who has the mind of a cyborg datarecorder, could be called upon to recall with me, and in so doing, enjoy once more.

The thrill of exitement this gave me was immense and made me feel so great a measure of joy that I felt I should sit down and write it all down this very instant.

:D

Polyamory v. Cheating

2011-01-19T11:25:00.002+02:00

Having cheated on my husband, and since I credit this as part of my path to becoming polyamorous, I must confess I am biased in the argument over whether polyamory is of any use in resolving cheating. If cheating is symptomatic of a grave and incurable narcissism in a partner then certainly polyamory will not resolve anything. However there are other reasons why people cheat.

I think very often one of the true motives behind cheating is treating love as a currency in relationships, and assuming you are poor. I certainly know this to be true of my own relationship before we became polyamorous. Furthermore there is a great deal of insecurity and distrust in relationships where one or both partners cheat.

In most monogamous relationships there is a quite common idea that states that, upon marriage/dating/co-habiting all your romantic love now belongs to your partner.

In this context having another relationship essentially involves you giving your love, which does not belong to you because you are part of a couple, to another person. If love is a currency, then having a second relationship is like buying one partner with your finite measure of love, then taking the love back and buying another with the same currency. Apart from the pain of the implied rejection, there is a great measure of outrage over the fraud implicit in this scenario. Even if this is done by agreement it will be very painful for at least one party in the trio.

In polyamory (assuming it is practiced properly) there is no fraud, and love is not considered a currency. It is rather something of a natural resource like air which everyone is entitled to and which is in abundant supply. It is not considered unusual for two partners to agree to allow one another the freedom to explore other relationships because there is no assumption that you are giving away a scarce resource - your partner's love.

Cheating is often a result of insecurity and distrust. When partners feel insecure and distrust each other, they legislate. Thou shalt not look at another woman (lest you leave me for her). Thou shalt not flirt with another man (lest he be better in bed than me). It all boils down to the desire we all have to be loved and wanted and the fear that when the chips are down there are others who are more lovable than we are. These rules do not make us feel any more secure because they undermine any attempt at building real trust. The simple truth is that in such relationships people do not agree to be true to each other through the execution of free will but through mutual fear of abandonment.

For them, learning about non-monogamy may hold the key to healing an unhealthy relationship dynamic, even if they do not convert to an open relationship.

Society idealises and idolises romantic love. It is treated as if it were an illness we contract, or some disease that we suffer from. Our judgement is expected to be warped, our behaviour ridiculous and childish at times and a whole separate set of rules apply to interactions that involve romantic love as opposed to any other kind of love. "All's fair in love and war" people say. A vast swathe of otherwise unacceptable behaviours (jealousy, rudeness, vengefulness etc.) are excused when love is involved. They defend our right to resolve our insecurities and lack of trust by constructing elaborate structures that restrict our partner's movements, social attachments, finances and even feelings rather than by confronting the issue through communication and negotiation. All in the name of "Love".

How would I say polyamory is an alternative to cheating?

I feel it should be understood by the world that trust is the real currency of relationships and that the communication of needs and expectations is the grease that oils the cogs of coupledom. Furthermore total honesty between partners is only way that any relationship should be conducted whether it is monogamous or polyamorous because real love is not conditional.

Polyamorous people can help by teaching these concepts, which are the pillars upon which we build our open relationships. Those of us who successfully practice polyamory needs must have learned some of these skills, because there is nothing that flies apart as quickly as a polyamorous relationship where people don't communicate, don't trust each other and believe that love is a currency which is in short supply.

Colouring outside the lines

2011-01-01T14:25:00.005+02:00

Which path do you intend to take, Nell?' said the Constable, sounding very interested. 'Conformity or rebellion?'

'Neither one. Both ways are simple-minded. They are only for people who cannot cope with contradiction and ambiguity.'

---Neal Stephenson, "The Diamond Age"

Recently I have found myself looking back on the pain I have suffered throughout my life and this year in particular, when I had a miscarriage, got the measles, lost my job and relapsed into a Bipolar depression.

In retrospect, I realise that somehow I have walked away profoundly grateful, no matter the sadness I have had to deal with. Things could have been a hell of a lot worse. I could be dead.

When your tightly controlled little universe comes crashing down around you, you have to confront who you are deep down in your heart. I did not truly know who I was until this year. I did not know what I had in me.

Had it not been for the trials of this year, I may have lacked the deep confidence in myself needed to pluck up the nerve to face society on my own terms. All of us should be able to do that at some point in our lives.

I know now what I have to do with my life, and to do that there is a matter I must address that I have been neglecting for some time.

"If I was gay, there would be no closet, you would never see the closet I came out of. Why? I would have burned it for kindling by the time I was 12. Because I know with all certainty in my mind, there is nothing wrong with being gay, and you know it." - Henry Rollins

Hello, World. I am bisexual, polyamorous and agnostic.

For those who are unclear:

Bisexual means I can love both men and women romantically and intimately.

Polyamory is the practice of having more than one romantic partner at a time – what I call "equal opportunity polygamy".

Agnostic means I'm still thinking over whether I believe any of the literature passed around regarding various deities and philosophies of life.

"You people and your quaint little categories." — Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood

Some of you may know this already. To those of you who do I want to send my sincerest thanks for being the kind of people who's tolerance and non-judgemental attitude has bolstered my courage and helped me reach this point. For the rest of you I apologise for having lived a lie for so long – you deserved better from me. I shall endeavour to correct this fault.

In the spirit of new beginnings and making New Year's resolutions I am, this year, stepping up and making my voice heard. My attitude to all comers is the following: Everyone has an opinion. Opinions are like arseholes - everyone has one. You are permitted to have a different one than me.

As long as you do not threaten my right to life, happiness and reasonable freedom of choice, and I likewise do not threaten yours, there really is no cause for us to argue. I respect people who have strong convictions. I am someone who has strong convictions myself.

I am not a militant individual. I have always considered myself more of a lover than a fighter. Having been someone who was until fairly recently deeply convinced of the validity of my own monogamy, religion and straight sexual orientation I can say this: I feel these choices each have their own benefits and detriments and everyone should have the freedom to pursue whichever option they should deem congruent with their own particular beliefs at any given time.

In other words: I got no beef with any of you.

"If you don't stick to your values when they're being tested, they're not values: they're hobbies."

— Jon Stewart

I do not believe that religion is defunct and irrelevant. Rather, I truly have not made up my mind and must investigate further before drawing any conclusions. Tell me what you believe. I really want to understand if I can, even if we do not agree.

I do not reject monogamy as a concept. I just do not believe that I am monogamous. I think it is an immensely wonderful thing when two people can be happy with the love of only one another for the rest of their lives. I just can't seem to color inside the lines of this particular colouring book.

Let none of you, for a moment, question my love for my husband or his for me. Between us we have the very deep and passionate love that abides for a lifetime. I fully expect to be laid to rest beside him when I die. But we do not own each other's lives.

Juno's Dad: 'Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with.'

Juno: 'Yeah.... And I think I've found that person.' - Juno.

As for bisexuality, well frankly, I am as surprised as you are. Until just this very year I had never in my life experienced a burning passion for a female member of our species. Based on this fact I had mistakenly (despite much experimentation on my part) supposed myself to be straight.

To have one's perceived gender identity alter at the age of 27 is rather disconcerting, but in retrospect I realise now that I had always been as I am. I just simply hadn't met a woman I felt a strong enough affinity for to break the social conditioning I had had as a child. Upon arrival of said woman I was required to alter my opinion of myself.

“When the facts change, I change my mind.” -John Maynard Keynes

And so I come to the heart of my message to all my readers out there.

All the ways that my life has been a royal fuckup has taught me that life, despite my deeply idealistic personality, does not always work out like a movie script. If you want to have a happy ending to your life you're going to have to get off your behind and grab victory from the jaws of defeat.

You need to fight for who you are, because who you are is exactly what the world needs. If you are religious you can believe it is because God created you for a purpose. If you are a secularist you may justify it by saying that diversity in the population encourages robustness of the gene pool.

Whatever. I can't make you believe anything. I can tell you what I believe: I believe that you matter. All of you. Not for the person you pretend to be, but for the one that you are. I know, because you matter to ME.

Yes, I mean that it the most global sense. There may be as many people on the planet as grains of sand, but if any one individual is standing before me, you can bet your bottom dollar that I give a damn about them. Don't you? Do me a favour and go read 1 Corinthians 13 one more time.

Ender: "No human being, when you understand his desires, is worthless. No one's life is nothing. Even the most evil of men and women, if you understand their hearts, had some generous act that redeems them, at least a little, from their sins." - Orson Scott Card, "Speaker for the Dead"

New Year is usually a time when we all question ourselves and look back with joy or regret at the year that we have lived. For those out there who look back and feel a great sadness for whatever reason I want you to know that no matter how terrible the events or circumstances, how obscure your life, how grave your sin or how old the enmity there is always hope.

"Do not go softly into that good night" - Dylan Thomas.

I am a manic depressive and as such I can tell you I know what it is to feel hopelessness. You don't try to commit suicide three times unless you've had a brush with your own internal Dementors. Yet I believe happiness is something that can be manufactured, like a McGyvered solution, from the smallest of paperclips and a bit of bubblegum. Never stop looking for it, especially when you are in pain. It is the stuff that meaning is built out of. It is the stuff that helps us survive the darkest despair.

That, and whatever psychiatric drugs float your particular boat.

"You know what I do when I'm feeling sad? I stop feeling sad and feel awesome instead." - Barney Stinson, How I Met Your Mother.

In a universe filled with entropy, with a society full of judgement and hatred and agression, being different can be dangerous. Here's the thing though: We are ALL different.

"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects." -Robert A. Heinlein

For all of you out there who feel like you are living in a closet and you're not letting your little light shine, I invite you to come join me at the bonfire this New Year and let the motherfucker burn.

Romantiese pessimisme

2009-11-11T20:56:00.002+02:00

Hou my,
streel my
en belowe my
“Ewig Durende Liefde”.

Laat ek my hart
netjies ,
in tissue papier
weggee.

Lees saam aan
Romeo & Juliet
en
English Patient

Dan:
Belowe my jy sal doodgaan
(êrens,in my arms,
oor 'n misverstand)

Sodat ek kan treur en klaarkry
en nooit,
soos baie ander romantiese "fools",
moet opeindig

en erken
dat ek
eintlik nie kan glo
in lewenslange liefde nie.

Lucky

2009-11-11T20:31:00.000+02:00

He has odd obsessions with seemingly unrelated things;
He likes his coffee with too much sugar;
He remembers everything he reads.

His eyes are hazel and his hair dark;
I playfully tug at the springy tufts of his chest
and rest there better than anywhere else.

He cries at the end of all the right movies
like Armageddon and Braveheart and Forrest Gump
although he still won’t see “chick-flicks” with me.

He sometimes makes me cry;
We seem an unusual pair
which we are, really...

We frequently argue
over nothing
and everything

and I hate my life sometimes,
too many times;
I'm a bit of a mess you don't want to clean up.

Then he hovers around me nervously
unsure of himself when I am distressed
and he says to me:

“I love you.
all I want in the world is to take care of you,
and make you happy”

And I feel ashamed
To have thought that
I wasn’t lucky.

Darling

2009-11-11T20:05:00.002+02:00

When I see him next
I shall throw my arms around him…
in friéndship.

I shall talk ecstatically about my day
and we shall touch…
our palms in a civil handshake.

When I think of his face it shall be
the mould of my love in flesh…
no longer.

For my love is mine no more,
I am to be reminded I am not his.
For he is not my darling.

A series of poems

2009-11-11T19:58:00.002+02:00

From today I will be posting a series of my poems as individual posts. I may or may not post a bunch at a time or one a day or none at all as the spirit moves me.

The vast majority of these poems date back to highschool or college, but some may be recent works. I leave it up to you to guess which is which!

I hope the content is more often touching and beautiful than clichéd.

C.

100's of books...

2009-11-11T19:01:00.003+02:00

Higlighted in bold the books I've read out of the two lists below:

THE BORDERS 100 FAVOURITE BOOKS OF ALL TIMES

1. Jane Austen – Pride & Prejudice
2. Harper Lee – To Kill A Mockingbird
3. JRR Tolkien – Lord Of The Rings
4. Jodi Picoult – My Sister’s Keeper
5. Stephanie Meyer – Twilight Saga
6. JK Rowling – Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone
7. Audrey Niffenegger – The Time Traveler’s Wife
8. Markus Zusak – The Book Thief
9. George Orwell – 1984
10. Raymond E. Feist – Magician
11. Khaled Hosseini – A Thousand Splendid Suns
12. Paullina Simons – Bronze Horsemen
13. Gregory David Roberts – Shantaram
14. Margaret Mitchell – Gone With The Wind
15. Bryce Courtenay – Power of One
16. Dan Brown – The Da Vinci Code
17. Dan Brown – Angels & Demons
18. Paulo Coelho – The Alchemist
19. Charlotte Bronte – Jane Eyre
20. Tim Winton – Cloud Street
21. Khaled Hosseini – The Kite Runner
22. Emily Bronte – Wuthering Heights
23. Arthur Golden – Memoirs of Geisha
24. LM Montgomery – Anne Of Green Gables
25. Joseph Heller – Catch-22
26. Elizabeth Gilbert – Eat Pray Love
27. Niv Mass Market Bible With Bible Guide – International Bible Society Staff and International Bible Society
28. JRR Tolkien – The Hobbit
29. Yann Martel – Life of Pi
30. AB Facey – Fortunate Life
31. Douglas Adams – The Hitch-hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy
32. Lewis Carroll – Alice In Wonderland & Through The Looking Glass
33. Diana Gabaldon – Cross Stich
34. Rohinton Mistry – A Fine Balance
35. David Pelzar – A Child Called It
36. Li Cunxin – Mao’s Last Dancer
37. John Marsden – Tomorrow, When The War Began
38. Frank McCourt – Angela’s Ashes
39. Frank Herbert – Dune
40. JD Salinger – A Catcher In The Rye
41. F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Great Gatsby
42. Gabriel Garcia Marquez – One Hundred Years Of Solitude
43. Bryce Courtenay – April Fool’s Day
44. Ken Follet – Pillars Of The Earth
45. Patrick Suskind – Perfume: The Story Of A Murderer
46. Matthew Reilly – Ice Station
47. Carlos Ruiz Zafon – The Shadow Of The Wind
48. Stephen Hawking – A Brief History Of Time
49. Christopher Paolini – Eragon
50. Louisa May Alcott – Little Women
51. Mitch Albom – Tuesdays With Morrie
52. Jane Austen – Persuasion
53. Alice Sebold – The Lovely Bones
54. Ian McEwan – Atonement
55. Leo Tolstory – Anna Karenina
56. George Orwell – Animal Farm
57. Anthony Burgess – A Clockwork Orange
58. Antoine de Saint Exupéry – The Little Prince
59. Roald Dahl – Charlie & The Chocolate Factory
60. CS Lewis – The Lion, The Witch & The Wardrobe
61. Gabriel Garcia Marquez – Love In The Time Of Cholera
62. Bill Bryson – A Short History Of Nearly Everything
63. Fyodor Dostoevsky – Crime And Punishment
64. Anthony Bourke – Lion Called Christian
65. Arundhati Roy – The God Of Small Things
66. Paullina Simons – Tully
67. John Grisham – A Time To Kill
68. John Grogan – Marley & Me
69. Vikram Seth – A Suitable Boy
70. Alexandre Dumas – Count Of Monte Cristo
71. Neil Gaiman – American Gods
72. Cormac McCarthy – The Road
73. Aldous Huxley – Brave New World
74. Brendan Shanahan – In Turkey I Am Beautiful: Between Chaos And Madness In A Strange Land
75. Tim Winton – Breath
76. Bryce Courtenay – Jessica
77. Graeme Base – Animalia
78. Donna Tartt – The Secret History
79. Mario Puzo – The Godfather
80. Anne Rice – Interview With The Vampire
81. Steig Larrson – The Girl With A Dragon Tattoo
82. Stephen King – Stand
83. Helen Fielding – Bridget Jones’ Diary
84. Eckhart Tolle – New Earth
85. Matthew Reilly – Seven Ancient Wonders
86. Jung Chang – Wild Swans
87. Nicholas Sparks – The Notebook
88. Bret Easton Ellis – American Psycho
89. David Eddings – Belgariad Vol. 1: Pawn Of Prophecy; Queen Of Sorcery; Magician’s Gambit
90. Louis De Bernieres – Captain Corelli’s Mandolin
91. Melina Marchetta – Looking For Alibrandi
92. Celia Ahern – PS I Love You
93. John Irving – A Prayer For Owen Meany
94. Colleen McCullough – The Thorn Birds
95. John Kennedy Toole – A Confederacy Of Dunces
96. Terry Pratchett – Good Omens
97. Hunter S. Thompson – Fear & Loathing In Las Vegas
98. Joanne Harris – Chocolat
99. William Goldman – Princess Bride
100. Charles Dickens – Great Expectations

EXCLUSIVE BOOKS 101 BOOKS TO READ BEFORE YOU DIE

1.The Lord of the Rings – J.R.R. Tolkien
2.The Kite Runner – Khaled Hosseini
3. Pride and Prejudice – Jane Austen
4. To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
5. The Harry Potter series – JK Rowling
6. The Poisonwood Bible – Barbara Kingsolver
7. The Alchemist – Paulo Coelho
8. Life of Pi – Yann Martel
9. The Da Vinci Code – Dan Brown

10. The God of Small Things – Arundhati Roy
11. Memoirs of a Geisha – Arthur Golden
12. Spud – John van de Ruit
13. The Power of One – Bryce Courtenay
14. The Hobbit – J.R.R. Tolkien
15. Captain Corelli’s Mandolin – Louis de Bernieres
16. Shantaram – Gregory David Roberts
17. Wuthering Heights – Emily Bronte
18. Catcher in the Rye – J.D. Salinger
19. Jane Eyre – Charlotte Bronte
20. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Douglas Adams
21. One Hundred Years of Solitude – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
22. Disgrace – J. M. Coetzee
23. My Sister’s Keeper – Jodi Picoult
24. The Time Traveller’s Wife – Audrey Niffenegger
25. Birdsong – Sebastian Faulks
26. Catch-22 – Joseph Heller
27. Pillars of the Earth – Ken Follett
28. Gone with the Wind – Margaret Mitchell
29. Cry, the Beloved Country – Alan Paton
30. The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald
31. A Fine Balance – Rohinton Mistry
32. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time – Mark Haddon
33. Great Expectations – Charles Dickens
34. Atonement – Ian McEwan
35. Atlas Shrugged – Ayn Rand
36. The Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck
37. The English Patient – Michael Ondaatje
38. Anna Karenina – Leo Tolstoy
39. Midnight’s Children – Salman Rushdie
40. Love in the Time of Cholera – Gabriel Garcia Marquez
41. The Shadow of the Wind – Carlos Ruiz Zafon
42. I Know This Much is True – Wally Lamb
43. A Suitable Boy – Vikram Seth
44. Nineteen Eighty-Four – George Orwell
45. War And Peace – Leo Tolstoy
46. Clan of the Cave Bear – Jean M. Auel
47. The Unbearable Lightness of Being – Milan Kundera
48. The Little Prince – Antoine de Saint-Exupery
49. The Secret History – Donna Tartt
50. Possession – A. S. Byatt
51. Perfume – Patrick Suskind
52. The House of the Spirits – Isabel Allende
53. Chocolat – Joanne Harris
54. The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency – Alexander McCall Smith
55. Q & A – Vikas Swarup
56. Dune – Frank Herbert
57. Wind in the Willows – Kenneth Grahame
58. Fugitive Pieces – Anne Michaels
59. River God – Wilbur Smith
60. Little Women – Louisa May Alcott
61. Lord of the Flies – William Golding
62. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe – C.S. Lewis
63. Mort – Terry Pratchett
64. Crime and Punishment – Feodor Dostoyevsky
65. The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood
66. East of Eden – John Steinbeck
67. The Name of the Rose – Umberto Eco ( reading at the moment)
68. The Other Boleyn Girl – Philippa Gregory
69. The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas – John Boyne
70. The Prince of Tides – Pat Conroy
71. Rebecca – Daphne du Maurier
72. Bridget Jones’ Diary – Helen Fielding
73. The Shipping News – E. Annie Proulx
74. Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll
75. Animal Farm – George Orwell
76. The Red Tent – Anita Diamant
77. Watership Down – Richard Adams
78. Magician – Raymond E Feist
79. Middlemarch – George Eliot
80. The Day of the Jackal – Frederick Forsyth
81. We Need to Talk About Kevin – Lionel Shriver
82. The Magus – John Fowles
83.The Remains of the Day – Kazuo Ishiguro
84. Agaat – Marlene van Niekerk
85. The Count of Monte Cristo – Alexandre Dumas
86. The Shell Seekers – Rosamunde Pilcher
87. The Colour Purple – Alice Walker
88. The Beach House – James Patterson
89. Doctor Zhivago – Boris Pasternak
90. Kringe in ‘n Bos – Dalene Matthee
91. The World according to Garp – John Irving
92. Northen Lights – Phillip Pullman
93. Middlesex – Jeffrey Eugenides
94. Shades – Marguerite Poland
95. Kane and Abel – Jeffrey Archer
96. Fiela se kind – Dalene Matthee
97. Story of an African Farm – Olive Schreiner
98. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – Roald Dahl
99. The Magic Faraway Tree – Enid Blyton
100. Things Fall Apart – Chinua Achebe
101. Winnie-the-Pooh – A.A. Milne

Extracts from a facebook comment conversation...

2009-09-14T14:32:00.004+02:00

These comments where directed at a friend with whom I had a difference of opinion regarding the below topic. This is my part of my response, edited for this format. I have made peace with the individual in question, and I leave this post up simply because it says a lot about a topic I care deeply about that I wouldn't like to retract. However, some aspects have been ommited in the name of friendship.

You may have noticed that I comment very rarely and with great circumspection on the topic of diagnosis and treatment versus societal reform and tolerance. I have opinions, I just know from experience that with great power comes great responsibility.

To speak on such a topic can alter the course of another persons life drastically. If you aren't careful, either option could destroy the health and well being of a person, depending on their individual makeup - this I know from own experience, for I have tried both.

For some, diagnosis is what gives them quality of living. For others a firm stand on the value of difference gives them peace. I have in my 22 years of ADHD status never found the one ring to rule them all. Instead a tenious balance between both extremes has worked for me

Finally, just because I have a opinion doesn't mean I don't sometimes want to go under the radar and not have to be a wandering social commentary. Ritalin gives me the choice not to be a poster girl.

I have known far more ADHD sufferers who have indicated that they benefited from childhood treatment than those who indicate they were harmed by it. Just like any childhood medical intervention, it is possible to argue that some harm came to the child because of the intervention. The decision to treat or not treat with ritalin is as controversial and personal as the decision of which sex to raise a hermaphrodite baby, imho, and should not be regulated by society.It's a choice that should be made by parents, for better or for worse.

I thank my parents for giving me the treatment I needed at an age when it could make a difference to my mental health. Since I spent part of my childhood unmedicated ( the part where I became suicidally depressed and suffered a mental breakdown by 11 ) I must object to your stance.Eau Natural is not necessarily healthier and happier.

As for normal, my parents did more in their humble way for instilling the principle that different is not deficient than anyone pushing a pure "No diagnosis, only tolerance" stance have ever done. From them I learned that a diagnosis is not a definition of self. It is just a diagnosis, and you can take or leave as much of what comes with the label ... Read Moreas you wish. In fact it is up to you to define the label for others as you wish them to understand it. Just as Geek is what I decide it to be, ADHD is what I make of it.

Suffice it to say that my tenious stance has been more successful in offering geniune peace of mind and improvement of quality of living to those whom I have influence over than any amount of black and white lobbying has ever done - I have personally been responsible for catalysing interventions in four people's lives that lead to greater health and happyness for the parties involved. Not all of them ended up in conventional psychiatry or on ritalin.

I was in an exceptionally accepting school, and I certainly did not find my lessons frustrating - school was in fact my favourite place.

Instead my problems where with emotional regulation and having the freedom to apply my concentration where my interests lay - something that ritalin allowed me to do. I was not drugged because my teacher couldn't cope with me (she encouraged my parents to wait a year with the drugs in fact). I was drugged because I couldn't cope with myself.

The ritalin did not supress anything in me that I didn't want supressed in the first place. I am 100% more of everything I want to be when I take the drug. I have yet to find something I lost due to ritalin. On the other hand ADHD nearly cost me my life.

I also have coping skills - they are great up to a point. But they do not replace genuine presence of mind for me. Sorry. Call me silly to want to have what every other neurotypical person takes for granted - focused interest and memory on demand.

For me Ritalin is a little like the blasting rod that Harry Dresden uses to prevent him from burning up the building every time he ... uses magic. It does not undermine my creativity, my passion, my or individuality. It helps me harness my gifts.

Will they never learn

2009-06-15T12:01:00.000+02:00

I know I am making a mountain of a molehill here (at least in most people's opinion), but really, does vodacom actually think it is ok to send me spam and then make me be the one to have to figure out how to get off of their mailing list? Yes, its easy enough for me to sms the right word to the right number, but what about my technologically challenged grandmother?

There are people for whom having to opt out of unwanted marketing is too much effort. For their sake I called up Vodacom and made an unreasonable ass of myself. Probably won't matter, but if I win the lottery and some person with a brain actually elevates my complaint that would be optimal.

Can't win it if you ain't in it, so if you hate opt-out advertising as much as I do, play the lottery next time it happens to you and complain to the advertiser. If enough of us play, someone's gotta win.

We will resume our usual programming shortly.

2009-04-22T09:41:00.001+02:00

I tend to prefer long blogposts over short, and so I often have nothing to say that would require nearly enough words to warrant posting (or so it feels to me).

Consequently my Spur post was my last for a long while. This was wholly unintentional. I assure my audience I posess a great many interesting opinions on matters far more complex than franchise restaurants.

Sadly I have been kept far too busy with the my other occupations to find the idle time needed to indulge my muse, and thus the quality as well as quantity of my posts have suffered.

Do not, however misunderstand me. I do not regret my posts thus far, and never will. Nor do I believe that one should write for the sake of maintaining momentum.

I am of the opinion that one should think before one inks, not after. That goes doubly for the Internet.

I am quite deliberate in every word I post online, even those that make others question my sanity, intelligence or taste. I am rarely embarrassed by anything I post.

Instead I often sit back with a satisfied grin and watch as I am misunderstood in my motivation. To perplex my reader, or mislead his opinion of me is both amusing and often strategic.

I partly blame this deliberateness of purpose for the infrequency of my correspondence here, on Twitter, on Facebook and elsewhere. I had much rather write nothing then give in to the temptation to tweet every thought that crosses my mind or comment on every newspaper article I read. I am far too private in my true opinions to be thus exposed.

Somewhat like Elizabeth Bennet successfully concealing her affection for Mr. Darcy and then surprising everyone with a proposal, I think I am often in a position to seem at odds with an opinion I secretly cherish.

Here I then betray my deepest secret desire : To be found out. To have some patient individual be intrigued and not fooled by my surface inconsistency and fickleness.

Perhaps this is a great arrogance : To consider oneself a dark horse is to show a rather twisted and unbecoming sort of pride. " I am more interesting than you think me."

If I do have the flaw of arrogance and pride it serves no purpose to apologise for it at the end of this post, for the post itself should be an indulgence of said flaw that would quite nullify the apology.

Rather I simply leave it as it stands and end with what I think I really wished this post to convey :

We apologise for the break in transmission.

Pleas do not change channels.

We will return after this short commercial break.

Take me to the canyon where the secret tribe plays...

2009-03-29T19:33:00.002+02:00

For someone who would generally not touch franchise restaurants with a barge pole I must eat my words ( and a tasty meal it was too! ) after visiting Michigan Spur in Longbeach Mall.

I remember Spur as being the watering hole of choice for those of a certain age with a certain number of dependants ranging in age between snot-nosed toddler and snotty teen - definately not bachelor friendly. If you were a married but childless couple it was doubly torturous due to the envious glares from the other more fruitful patrons as if to say " We know you can eat anywhere you like including places that allow pets but not children. Go and gloat somewhere else!"

Lately I had only been in one as the "Auntie who bought you the Barbie for your birthday". Usually the food and service were by rote, and I left feeling totally toddlerwhacked and unamused.

At Michican Spur, however, the manager Alain was everywhere at once and utterly attentive, the waitress Fortunate was ever present yet unobtrusive and the food utterly divine and served perfectly on time. The sauce stations looked new and filled a moment ago, the surfaces and furniture spotless and the waitrons shiny happy people. For once, everything that franchises should be about was in bountiful supply, and all the refried, xeroxed blandness dissapeared.

Well done for changing my perception of your franchise from bachelor's hell to respectable eatery!

Jury-rigged

2009-02-25T07:30:00.002+02:00

Pedal to the metal. Balls to the wall. That's me. Always has been.

My specialty is Macgyvering. I rarely know much of anything, but just enough of everything to spot the solution those living in the detail can't see because to them it is out of focus.

That does however mean I suck at detail. But that's ok. The world is full of people who are better at the detail than I am. I'll leave them to it.

Every team needs a jury-rigger. That fellow that keeps the old dingy afloat long enough for your ship to come in. Plonk one in a crisis and he may start kicking the furniture - but that may just keep the nail in place that lets you sit on the chair.

Trust your jury-rigger. The more they know the better they work because the are the experts at killing two birds with one stone - provided you tell them about both birds.

And sometimes, just sometimes tell them to go home. Let go. Stop. You don't need to fix it all with a sonic screwdriver and a satsuma.

Because if you let them, they'll try.

The thing is...

2009-01-30T12:28:00.000+02:00

...that in my heart of hearts I know I just don't have the time management skills to get it all done. I mean it. ALL of it.

The housekeeping. The healthy cooking. The social life and the work life and the self improvement.

Now I can add that having a neurological disorder may eat into the times that I am well enough to work and play but the truth is it's not that I don't have the time...it's that I don't know how to get the most out of my time.

I know I should be eating an allergen free diet - but when you are running late and its a matter of a stomach ache versus being late at you new job (which you happen to love) something's gotta give.

When it's a question of maintaining a social circle or washing clothes for work the next day, you choose bread on the table over friends.

It boils down to Maslow's hierarchy really.

Yet...it is just not enough for me. I know that many others, if presented with my circumstances, would not be compromising.

Ok ok, blame it all on ADD. It all fits.

Yet...thats not good enough for me. There must be a way. I must seek harder for the coping skills and treatments and change.

For it is just not good enough to be good enough on the face of it, but a mess behind closed doors.

I am happier and more organised than ever before and for that I am grateful. For that I smile wide when you ask me how I am.

But better is not well, and I will settle for no less.

Good. Better. Best!

2009-01-07T07:36:00.000+02:00

I am reminded of the joke that goes "The married man has one of two reasons to be worried : 1. His wife doesn't understand him or 2. His wife understands him.

I think I have found a boss that may just understand me, and I am worried! It is rather worrying when someone places such unwavering faith in your ability to rise to the occasion, even if you agree with their assessment of your character.

For once your best is expected where before good enough was good enough.

Scary!

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T00:55:00.000+02:00

May there be abundant life, abundant freedom and abundant hope for all this year.

The Great And Terrible Day...

2008-12-20T23:10:00.000+02:00

I had to say goodbye, and watch him slip into slumber for the last time, his tiny head cradled in the palm of my husband's hand.

I had to leave then. Before he lost the last of the warmth that had made him mine. Before he began to be less than my pet and more just a dead animal. Before death robbed me of the memory of life.

I had to get away from the sad sympathetic bystanders and the well meaning vet and maybe myself too.

My family and I went to the beach where I just sat and sat and sat by the mournful sighing sea until it grew cold and the blue of the sky was robbed of colour by the slow onset of a Cape Summer sunset.

I timetravelled home in metroplus, managing to be all alone in the crowd. The sunburnt teenagers with seasand on their bare feet hung around the carriage doors giving me odd looks. Maybe they thought I was high.

I went for a walk and Pimento followed me. Later when my husband and I were close to home she made little questioning mewling sounds as if to ask us about her sibling's whereabouts, or so it seemed to us as we walked together wrapped in our bubble of shared grief.

He was beautiful, chocolate points with ice blue eyes. He pawed your face when he wanted scratches. He was the smart one.

Goodbye Polaris

A Quantum of Happiness

2008-12-17T09:05:00.000+02:00

New job that uses more than the usual 2% of my brain : check.

Sick Cat is in stable condition : check.

Family is here for xmas : check.

I may be having a sparse Christmas. I may be having panic attacks of note over all the changes soon to come. I may be in denial over the inevitability of my pet's eventual demise.

For the moment though I have a quantum of happiness: Today is not that great and terrible day when it all happens to be going wrong.

Just Beachy

2008-12-14T15:39:00.000+02:00

Our beach picnic has gotten overcast, but that has not deterred the fellowship of the frisbee.

Our police force must have been envigorated by the sea air and couldn't resist the urge to chastise us for bringing one pint sized lap hound onto the beach. Don't we have any real criminals in Camps Bay for them to chase?

The more energetic members are tossing around a frisbee in the surf, and I have been serenading the seagulls to the tune of my guitar, though the sea air seems to disagree with it - it keeps going out of tune.

The sun has decided to come out and mayhap I will go wet my toes in the lagoon in a bit and go chase that frisbee.

Laterz!

"It never rains but it pours."

2008-12-10T19:42:00.000+02:00

As my mother always says. If bad luck runs in threes, then I have had my turn.

Those in the know will be aware of my career crisis, and also that it seems to have been dealt with, thank heavens. Also they will have noted my facebook status highlighting my recent food poisoning at Obzfest from which I have yet to recover. Lastly there was the matter of my cat Polaris, who has survived a recent emergency, but was sadly found to be terminally ill with untreatable lymphoma.

Usually a woman of many words, I have lately been too dumbstruck to comment on the above. Some things are best left unblogged.

Thankfully my family is nearby for comfort and to make a firm stand against the Grinch.

Many lemons have been received and much lemonade is to be made in this regard.

In that spirit I extend an invitation to everyone. You are welcome to join me, Arno, our friend Lara and an assembly of folks from various walks of life for a frisbees-on-the-beach picnic. Clifton Beach 4, around 2pm on Sunday 14, December. Please bring your own refreshments etc.

Let us know if you can make it, or peek at the facebook event on either of our profiles to confirm.

See you there!

"You give me fever..."

2008-12-07T22:24:00.000+02:00

Something or someone at Obzfest is trying to kill me. I think I may have foodpoisoning! Either that or someone slipped me shellfish. Off now to lift the little weight off of the pressure cooker that is my head.

Why do adults forget how to love, and what love is? There is the core illness of our society...

2008-12-07T08:43:00.002+02:00

I got a chain email today. Yes yes, it was soppy, it was everything such emails usually are. Despite that, one may find inspiration even in such things as cliché's.

A group of professional people posed this question "What does love mean" to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds.

The answers they got were broader and deeper than you would have
imagined:

'When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn't bend over and paint
her toenails anymore.

So my grandfather does it for her all the time, even when his hands
got arthritis too. That's love.'
Rebecca- age 8
________________________________

'When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different..
You just know that your name is safe in their mouth.'
Billy - age 4
________________________________

'Love is when my mommy makes coffee for my daddy and she takes a sip
before giving it to him, to make sure the taste is OK.'
Danny - age 7
________________________________

'Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of
kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more.
My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss'
Emily - age 8
________________________________

'Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening
presents and listen.'
Bobby - age 7
________________________________

'If you want to learn to love better, you should start with a friend
who you hate,'

Nikka - age 6
________________________________

'During my piano recital, I was on a stage and I was scared. I looked
at all the people watching me and saw my daddy waving and smiling.

He was the only one doing that. I wasn't scared anymore.'
Cindy - age 8
________________________________

'My mommy loves me more than anybody

You don't see anyone else kissing me to sleep at night.'
Clare - age 6

________________________________

'Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.'
Elaine-age 5
________________________________

'Love is when Mommy sees Daddy smelly and sweaty and still says he is
handsomer than Robert Redford.'
Chris - age 7
________________________________

Author and lecturer Leo Buscaglia once talked
about a contest he was asked to judge.

The purpose of the contest was to find the most caring child.

The winner was a four year old child whose next door neighbor was an
elderly gentleman who had recently lost his wife.
Upon seeing the man cry, the little boy went into the old gentleman's
yard, climbed onto his lap, and just sat there.

When his Mother asked what he had said to the neighbor, the little boy said,
'Nothing, I just helped him cry'

All the above seem to underline a very day to day, pragmatic and hands on approach to love, rather than the cotton candy fluff that is promoted in today's media and culture. Love is a verb, I've heard it told.

And finally my favourite, because I think in a way it highlights one of the reasons why children unlearn to love...

'I know my older sister loves me because she gives me all her old
clothes and has to go out and buy new ones.'
Lauren - age 4

Over time this child will be disillusioned to discover that in all likelihood her sister had little choice in giving her the clothes and that her parents couldn't afford new clothes for her, but for now she thinks the best of life and people.

The longer a child can be kept in that state of expecting good from the world because they have no reason to believe otherwise, the more likely they are to carry with them for life a belief in the basic goodness of humanity. Without a belief in the worthiness of your fellow man to be loved, how will you ever love your fellow man?

Being naive in adulthood may be less than a good thing, but I think in the hard world we have come to live in people have become too quick to sacrifice the natural innocence of children in the hopes they will protect them from the hurt of disillusionment. The mistake they make is to believe that applying that hurt in tiny bites over many years by little disillusionments like the one above could be is better than one day having one great disillusionment.

I believe this is not true. Life long losses like that one breeds the idea that that is all life is - a progression of small disillusionments about the goodness of the folks around you - Don't ever trust anyone is as good as they seem because you will always be a little bit wrong, and who knows what else you are missing?

It is not the responsibility of adults to destroy innocence. That is an inherent part of the life and needs not be encouraged. It is the responsibility of a of all adults in the presence of children everywhere to protect the innocence there is in this world.

It is better to have loved and lost at all can also apply to the belief in the goodness of humankind - it is better to have thought the best of someone and been found wrong sometimes than to never think the best of anyone at all.

Interesting to note that the Biblical view of salvation is that we need to have faith as children... I think there is more to that idea than just blind childlike faith in a higher authority. I think the real message might be in recapturing the things that as children we were still doing right that in adulthood we were taught to do wrong - like love.

Job interview - ur doing it right

2008-12-05T19:59:00.000+02:00

Kudos to my interviewers! You know who you are. That interview was fantastic! Are you sure you were never a Google recruiter?

Yearly mental health rant

2008-12-05T10:43:00.000+02:00

I have ADHD. I have had it for 21 years. (I am 25.) Over the years 10 medical doctors in 4 different disciplines, and several therapists in more disciplines than you get Ice Cream flavours have agreed. Over the years I have waded through the deniers, the neurodiversity crowd, the alternative medicine movement, the militant eugenics faction... the list is lengthy. Where I found useful tips, I borrowed. Where I unearthed crap, I walked away. Now it would be hard to define my views. Alternative-cognitive-behaviouralist-pro- drugs-anti-denialist- pragmatist maybe?

Mostly what matters to me is finding solutions to tangible life problems using whatever discipline or belief system works. Call me a self-help agnostic. No one discipline owns me.

Most people want to be accepted for who they are. In my case who I am has a DSM classification that happens to accurately describe certain parts of my personality ( No, that does not mean I believe I am my disorder. Quite the opposite.) When I mention my ADHD I am trying to give you a clue about part of who I am. I am NOT about getting your sympathy/pity party. If I want attention I can just wear a low cut top and start singing Cranberries. Its far more fun.

I don't expect accommodation for my disorder. The world hasn't moved past ADHD denialism, let alone progressed to acknowledging it as a disability. I am all for adaptation to the status quo. My whole quest has been about making it impossible for people to tell I have ADHD. I take it as a compliment if u tell me I don't look like I have ADHD. I don't hide it, and I try to let people be if they expect from me exactly what they would expect from anyone else without ADHD. That I perform well enough at work and in public that it is not patently obvious has been the work of all my life, and I am proud of that.

I do, however sometimes drop in a comment as a joke or as self-mockery. It is amusing to note people's responses. I am usually met with varying degrees of sympathy or denialism, neither of which was called for. Just like sexism or racism, neurodiversity is a hot potato.

If you really want to debate ADHD with me, you are probably 10yrs of research and experience behind me. The more you know about it, the more you will know you know too little to make absolute statements. Oh, and lighten up! If I can mock my ADHD, so can you.

Five sentences spoken over dinner couldn't possibly cover the complexity of my opinion on ADHD. Even this blog is just a trailer.

Lastly, oh ye denialist-anti-drug-its-just-an-excusist: Don't take my word for anything. Go forth and scour the libraries, trawl the net, attend the seminars, visit the doctors, therapists, quacks and herbalists. Better yet, go adopt a kid with ADD. For thén you will have earned the right to challenge the general consensus.

Now what was I doing before I started this blog...?

"I'm still standing, yeah yeah yeah..."

2008-12-04T08:54:00.000+02:00

Its been a wild wild week, but its all been working out ok. The terrible two (my younger siblings) land tomorrow and I can't wait! Sea and sun and other fun is forecast for the rest of the month. Also be on the lookout for the arrival of the parental unit later this month. Any suggestions regarding activities for the Jozie crowd's entertainment will be appreciated. Over and out!

Lovely Day

2008-12-01T18:46:00.000+02:00

Had a fabulous day visiting UWC Campus with Arno. Spent a blissful half day updating my CV online and generally geeking out. Also got a call for an interview tomorrow - yay! In true female tradition I initiated emergency clothes shopping protocols - karma to Arno for tagging along valiantly and helping me pick out the Perfect Dress for the occasion. Laterz!

The honeymoon is over

2008-12-01T08:01:00.000+02:00

Despite valiant and quite successful attempts to rage against the dying of the light, I must admit today the end of an era and begin the hunt - the jobhunt to be exact. Thanks to good friends who helped me on Sunday to hold back the tide with Sushi and good company!

Need Beer

2008-11-26T17:07:00.002+02:00

I need beer.

When major life altering events occur, beer is the answer. Beer, and of course, the Internet.

Change is inevitable, except from vending machines, as the saying goes.

Today I had a major change in my life, and I am at a loss how to deal with it.

So I shall blog and drink beer.

Isn't the Internet great?

What the Internet is even better for is helping one cope in a more practical fashion with troubling experiences. You have useful websites that point you in the right direction. Sites that take your details and pass them on to the appropriate persons for their immediate attention. Career sites, CV writing sites, self improvement sites...

I am struck suddenly by the fact that I would have not been able to do what I did today (AKA quit my job) if it had not been for the Internet.

Via the Internet I discussed the wisdom of this course of action with my spouse straight away. I registered on websites that hold a copy of my CV within moments. I sent off applications, lobbied for emotional support and generally backed up my life and my data before taking the plunge... all within 24 hours.

Today I humbly give thanks for the Interwebs and the freedom it has brought us.

To the web!

A possible solution...

2008-11-25T23:08:00.000+02:00

After my last blog I investigated and found blogger has easily available mobile blogging.YAY!

Brain Crashes and other boring events

2008-11-23T13:23:00.003+02:00

I never blog. This is a commonly known fact to anyone who knows me.

This is not necessarily a good thing. I mean, its not that I have nothing to say. Its just that I haven't managed to find a sustainable way of channeling my thoughts into bloggable format. Anyone have any tips?

Ideally it should be electronic, portable and cheap and take no more than 5 minutes a day.

Okay, maybe thats asking too much. I can't even get together the time to mail my long suffering family, let alone blogging....

But hey, here's to early new years resolutions.

All true friends of mine will nag me to blog whenever they see me. Consider this a test of loyalty.

Since I have you here anyway I may as well give you the latest news and events on planet Piro :

I am off Lithium, and it sux. I keep having to restart my brain every now and again after it crashes spectacularly (usually involving loss of the ability to speak full sentences and headaches). Lets hope this passes soon.

I am on Ritalin and that rocks. I has a memoree!

I have a job that is neither too boring nor too stressful, and I only disklike my boss when she is hormonal. Yay!

I am happily married to Arno (Macavity) Breedt for any of you who didn't know that already.

I still am shameless, frank and a little embarrassing to be around because I usually talk too much. Despite this I am actually a deeply private person. Any other perception you may have of me is an illusion. You don't know me. You just know what I want you to know. This does not, however, mean that I don't like you.

I am complicated. Believe it.

Lets hope my blog gets less narcissistic and self referential RSN.

Now go on, do some real work.

Christel

Eyes Wide Open

2007-09-16T16:27:00.001+02:00

What an evening!!!

Not being in any way officially affiliated to the Open Source community and the whole Creative Commons project, I was merely exited by proxy to be attending the Open Content Party hosted by Jimmy Wales and his team. More info here. Hubby is a born again Open Source Afficionado, and over the years I have learned much much more about computers and the polemic around Open Content than would be expected from a travel agent/call centre operative/vocalist/sometimes poet. But that perhaps was the whole point of the evening: Bringing the joys of our diverse backgrounds and cultures into contact in unexpected ways by capitalizing on the amazing tool of social networking that is the Internet.

I flitted around the room like the proverbial butterfly, alighting on conversations between media people, programmers, musicians, economists and artists. How could you really explain what had brought them all together? What had them all huddling exitedly, ideas flying like fireworks at a Royal birthday celebration? How was it possible that such usually diverse subcultural groups were finding common ground?

I guess its not that hard really.

The world was a big place once. Remarkable people, with remarkable ideas, lived far apart from one another. They were removed by distance and cultural boundaries, and the ideas tended to die along with the people for want of collaborative partnerships

....and then : The Internet. The home of the Sub Culture. The minority. The outcast and ridiculed.Here people with ideas too big to be implemented by themselves alone found a voice of support in chatrooms, instant messaging programs, email, myspace and most recently the famed Facebook. It is the Hivemind. The Collective Conciousness. The Global Village. This is where humanity could begin to truly show its greatness.

Why do I say that? I'll relate the story I heard from one of the attendees of the party:

Someone somewhere thought it good to have a large number of people guess the number of pennies in a jar. Each person's vote was documented and later the pennies were counted. No one individual came as close to guessing the correct number of pennies as the average guestimate of all the entrants combined. They say two heads are better than one....how many people are there in the world today?

Any good Open Source junkie will tell you that the story above is an example of the Many Eyeballs principle : Any problem is tiny when brought before the millions of eyes that view the Internet each day. Any software bug must needs be found if not hundreds but millions of programmers are looking at the same code each day, hoping in their small "my good deed for the day" way to contribute to the greater software good.

Someone was questioning me as to how money could possibly be made by a movement famed for the fact that it supported giving things away for free or almost free.We discussed the ideas surrounding using free content as a magnet for advertising income and both agreed that in the long run this would not necessarily be the best or only income model for the Open Content movement. What then would be?

To be honest, I have no idea.

I do know, especially after last night, that there are eyeballs on the problem. By tomorrow, those eyeballs will have told their friends, and there will be more eyeballs each day after that.That is the beauty of the net: Viral Growth and the linking of disparate things to each other. Finding connections....not unlike neurons connecting in the brain as we learn about a previously unfamiliar subject, making us smarter with each connection.

I often relate the following story from Richard Branson's autobiography to explain why connections between people matter so much to the greater good of mankind :

During the Desert Storm years under the previous Bush administration, Richard Branson had made personal friends with the King of Jordan and his wife, since they were interested in taking balloon trips similar to Richard's adventures and asked him to facilitate. In that period, a number of British Citizens were being held hostage by Saddam Husseins forces. There were no flights allowed in or out of Iraq at the time, not even mercy flights, and it seemed inevitable that those hostages had no hope of release or rescue. Some were ill and in need of medical attention. There where whole families, mothers with children etc. that were being held. It was a nervous situation. Unfortunately no amount of political intervention from the British Government could secure release of the captives...

But Richard had a little talk with the King of Jordan... who in turn had a little talk with Saddam Hussein... who allowed one single flight from Virgin Airways to fly into war-torn Iraqi airspace to fly out the ill and infirm, woman and children in the party of captives held by Iraqi forces.

Had any other airline attempted the same, they would have been shot down.

It took the personal connection between these individuals to make the humanitarian difference.

Statistically, should you take a walk down the street in your home city on any given day and pick any other individual on the street you and that individual would be related somehow through no more than two intermediaries. We are all, in reality, a very extended family... and the Internet is helping us get to know people whom before we would never have met.

All I know is that the Open Source and Open Content movement goes big or goes home: If it isn't mathematically impossible, its somehow doable if enough collaborators can be found. And with billions of people worldwide logging on to the web each day, finding a few collaborators is getting easier and easier.Things before considered impossible are becoming plausible. Distant goals are becoming reachable.Dreams once dreamed alone and in isolation are being shared and coming true.

I will end with the following two requests:

From the Open Content Project to South Africans: On this Heritage day, just before you toddle off to your nearest pub to get pissed, or to the family lunch with mom and dad, pop onto the web for a minute and upload something to the Open Heritage project. A picture of your great grandfather who was the mayor of Putsonderwater or a Zulu chief. A recording of your uncle who has his own sakkie sakkie boeredans band or your father doing his traditional cultural dances in traditional african dress. Your grandmother's original crocheting patterns or Ndebele beadwork designs. Any part of South African history and our country's heritage that you are able to contribute from your personal collection of videos and musical recordings and photos (respecting copyright in all cases please!). Once I know the exact link to the Open Heritage project page, I'll post it here.

Personally I would like to appeal to anyone reading this post who has not yet joined the movement and become one of they many eyeballs (and even those of you who have but need to brush up a bit!) to follow the following links and see what amazingly exiting ideas have been growing in the fertile soil of the World Wide Web:

Open Content Synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_content

History of the Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Wikipedia

Open Source Synopsis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_source

Creative Commons : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Creative_Commons

One laptop per child project: http://laptop.org/

Free High School Science Textbooks: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Free_high_school_science_texts

Open Streetmap http://openstreetmap.org/

Freedom Toaster Website: http://www.freedomtoaster.org/

Technology, Entertainment, and Design Conferences: About TED

Bridges to Understanding Project: http://www.bridgesweb.org/

Sustainable development project: http://www.worldchanging.com/

Make Poverty History!

Where do I get Linux and open-source software?

Cape Town Linux Users Group: http://wiki.clug.org.za/wiki/Main_Page