Culture or literature suicide

Everyday I see the shock of the daily community papers which can be purchased for under R3. I happen to glance at it while travelling on the train and the sensationalism and language termed "Cape flats" that I notice makes me feel a number of things. Anger is the first one that comes to mind followed by a great sadness.

What will become of our children who view this material as their only source of information? Our teenagers already survive on a form of short hand while they are on MIXT and lose the English language in the process. We already live in a world of fear, mostly created by the media, so what will happen to the mental state of the people reading everyday?

I'm all for the exposure of the truth but the picture of a dead baby, or body parts lying on a highway on the front page.... is that the face of truth? If it is, who decided on it?

Yes, I've heard people saying "but the newspaper caters for us". Who is this us? Is it the term coloured, black or white that was given to a certain group of people under a regime that should never have happened?

Admittedly, I do admire the headline producers for their wit but can we give our children a better benchmark to view life with? It all very simply starts with proper English.

Towing trust

Towing a vehicle is one of my all time lows. After numerous conversations with a few women on the topic, it seems as though men were born to do this and they expect it to be second nature to any driver. At least that is the impression that we got from the guys that were towing us.

This, however, is the one thing that has me crying in a foetal position knowing that towing the vehicle is the only way home.

Even so, I had a huge revelation on one of my latest towing adventures (the 3rd to be exact). While my leg was shaking on the brakes, back bent over the steering wheel, hand gripping the hand breaks and my eyes glued to the left rear view mirror of the car towing me, I anticipated every signal coming from the driver ahead.

What I learnt, after accepting my fate, is that I had no choice but to enjoy the ride. I never lost sight of any given signal up ahead which made things easier. Third, no matter how great the urge to step on the break, under normal circumstances I have a different reflex response to a red robot, I kept on telling myself DON'T DO IT! The pressure of not splitting the car in two was enormous.

The feeling of helplessness is quite frightening but once I consoled myself to being led (in a good way) I discovered that the ability to be led is as important as leading when the situations call for it. We are taught to be leaders, stand out etc but life calls for a different response in every situations. In my case it was a matter of adapting and doing what was necessary at the time.

We are what we do

Maybe not.

In South Africa people generally have various respect levels for various jobs. A person sweeping the streets has the job title "Street sweeper" and it could be viewed as one of the least respected jobs. What happens when a street sweeper is associated with being a failur or having a low IQ etc all of which are terrible assumptions. These hardworking people are ridiculed and for what... making an honest living?

Maybe what we are, are the characteristics reflected in our work delivery. Traits such as passion for the final product/event/release and /or the internal newsletter. Having pride in what we do.

What if someone actually loved sweeping the street and they feel good about doing their bit for the environment and their country? Does it mean that they have no self respect for choosing a job "ranking" very low on the list of "most desired positions"?

According to an article in Time Magazine Online, 1963 a president has 6 qualities some of which are self restraint and inner calmness. Are these the characteristics reflected in the actions of Julius Malema as president of the ANC Youth League?

Is he what he is suppose to do?

References:

Time Magazine. 1963. Nation: SIX QUALITIES THAT MAKE A PRESIDENT. http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,874810,00.html [29 March 2010]

We are afraid of the wrong things.

Fear of the unknown, fear of shaking up a comfort zone, fear of what others will think, say or do and fear of being noticed or on the other hand not being noticed at all. Quite frankly it (fear) has caused 95% of my stress in lots of situations.

I saw a TV doctor address this issue with the question "What if?" with "what if it does and then?" In playing the game to these energy draining questions a certain clarity follows and I always think "Why did it take me so long to ....?"

Writing about it is so easy but addressing the fear on a daily basis is quite another story. It's no good feeling sorry for yourself either....so here goes nothing... I'll start opening my eyes to look at the "boogyman" one bigger squint at a time and let's see what happens.

Fish falling from the sky

Here comes an opportunity in the form of crumbed fish,tuna,swordfish, lemon and herb hake, fish fingers, fish cakes and I even see crayfish and prawns in the mix. Bring me the lease papers for that new restaurant situated on a busy corner along with the dotted line for the next fisheries that will give I&J a run for their money....

Aah what a great change can come with opportunity?

Question is do all of us have this opportunity coming to our door and if it does is it recognisable?

Right now I'll make the most of my daily catches and in doing so prepare my nets with knowledge and skills to catch that fish monsoon when it comes...and believe me it's coming.

What is the colour of the wind?

It really depends on the mood that you are in. Imagine walking along a lane where huge trees form an arch covering the path with shade. It's a sunny day outside and all your senses are tuned in to appreciate natures company and the perfect whisper of a breeze that is kissing your face. The colour of the wind in this case is a warm golden yellow as it is moderately warm and adds to the feeling of peace and contentment. The perfect day, the perfect feeling.

On the other hand when I'm jogging and battling to inhale as much of this oxygenated wind as possible; it is red. The colour of pain as my lungs are bursting out of their seams, due to lack of fitness, working overtime.

Personally, I love the wind whether I'm happy or when it stings my cheeks with coldness when I'm sad.

The colour of the wind depends on the individuals mood whatever that might be.