Something from the archives

31 october 2005 - halloween (but in reality, just another monday evening)

My history with blogs stretches more than seven years back. I was still in high school, and already addicted to the internet. I was a regular in the imusic chatroom during the evenings, and, during the day I was living a strange double life inside my head where my thoughts revolved around the people behind the nicknames - people I've never met and never will. I haven't got the slightest idea what happened to them. They are somewhere on this planet, either dead or alive. i have no idea.

During this same time, I stumbled across my first blog. I had no idea that there was a name for writing of this kind, I just happened upon a site called tummyache.com (don't bother going there, it's now a medical site dealing with, well, tummyaches and the likes). I cannot remember the name of the girl who was the author of the site, but I soon became addicted to her online diary, reading my way through her life, her dreams, her obsession and disappointments. she worked in a book store somewhere in the USA, had a secret crush on her boss (or fellow colleague), she had a dog that she loved, and a stuffed lobster called Jesus. She also had an obsession with food, a hate for her desire of it, a hate for her bulemic tendencies, a hate for the significant role it played in her life. One story from her blog still lingers in my head today: After preparing a midnight snack of tapioca that she was voraciously anticipating, she tripped over stairs, fell down and so did the steaming bowl of tapioca. She ended this tragic story by saying: "and now I am certain that your God does not exist."

During my possibly pointless research into japan and everything that comes with the island, I started surfing the blogs of some JET kids, people who are in Japan thanks to the program I'm planning to join. Unfortunately, most of it made for terribly boring reading. basically their writing sucked, it was all "and then I went here, and then I saw these JETs, and then I got onto a train, and then". If I sound like a snob, it's because I am. There's nothing more torturous than scrolling through pages and pages of badly-written boo-ha. actually there is, and it's sitting through half an hour of makeup advertisements and previews about war movies when you really just want to watch the subtitled artsy film that you payed to see.

My second real blog addiction only started a month or so ago, something I came across while searching for JET blogs. Very well written, thoroughly entertaining (I keep thinking - damn this is better than reality tv), and frequently updated (as in 4 to 5 times a day, sometimes even more).. all the ingredients required to produce a blog that hooks. I'm not going to get into detail about this femme's blog, i'll put it up as a link one day one day when i actually have my own blog.

then what is this?

This is me, so enamoured with the idea of blogging (that comment alone should warn that i'm a geek at heart) that I'm writing my first post without a connection to the www, and without an existing blog. I've got this crap but trusty pentium 233 that always has notepad open and some essay in the making. Most of them I send off as emails to a hand-picked selection of cyber friends. The rest sit in my "arb crap" folder. when I die, I'd like all my words to be printed and cremated with me. But for the time being, it's relatively safe on my outdated harddrive, and it keeps me busy during the evenings.

I do have a social life, but i need to drive to get there. Currently, I'm staying in Bronkhorstspruit (try typing that really fast), South Africa. Just me and my cat and my notepad. Next year this time, I'm hoping to be in rural village, japan. I thought that a blog would be a convenient way for my friends to get a taste of what i'm up to, a million miles away.

this is how I know I have way too much free time on my hands - Applications for the JET programme has not even opened yet, and I'm already posting in my blog that doesn't exist to keep people updated with the life that I do not even lead. I've already decided which books I'll take with to Japan, because I'd feel lost without some reading material. i've limited myself to five, and according to today's reasoning, these five books are:

1) Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance (Robert M. Pirzig *note - confirm later) - because I only read the first forty pages before giving up, and I think it's an essential read. Must get own copy first.

2) The tao of health, sex & longevity by Daniel Reid - because this book will go wherever I go. It's a user manual to the human body, and my bible. It's wonderful for referencing. You say your kidneys hurt? Wait, lemme see, hmm yes you need to drink some cucumber and beet smoothies, off you go. Next!

3) Atlas shrugged, We the living, and Fountainhead by Anne Ryand - The fact that's it is three books is a technicality. If i count them seperately, I won't have space for

4) An Afrikaans book - If i'm gonna be stuck on a little island where I don't even know whether I'm in the male of female toilets, i'd like to have some reading in my mother tongue. It's a beautiful language, a bit rough around the edges, but jam-packed with onomatopoeia, which makes for delicious reading (and even better writing).

5) Application for position still open.

as a disclaimer - I chose to write in English because it is the language of the world, and the Net that binds it together. I prefer Afrikaans, but in case there's some wool-headed girl out there trying to blogspot some JET writings, I'd like to make this understandable, world-wide. The thought that I'm a vernacular traitor is made redundant by the fact that there a few blogs that I desperately wanted to read, but couldn't, because they were in freaking french or ali baba language. So yes, for your reading convenience this blog is dubbed into the language of microsoft and google, the language that is supposed to unite the world, the language i'm planning to use as my excuse to go chill in the East.

No News Is No News

When my landlady knocked on my window to check if I was still alive, I realised that I really am not home all that often.

When the check-out girl at the supermarket said, “You really like red wine, hey?”, I realised that I might be overdoing the glassss-a-night thing.

When my daily friends kept asking why I haven’t posted anything on my blog recently, I realised that I’ve been neglecting my blogging.

I haven’t been neglecting my writing, as I spend many an evening in front of my pc with my cat on the monitor, a heater at my back, and a glass of wine in my hand. Another evening in Dronkwordspruit. It’s just that I’ve been pouring my arbitrary analysis and petty pet hates into personal emails. But I’m still writing. It’s my biggest addiction.

With two weeks, one day and 5 hours left of life as a food tech green-cap, I have been stuck on a mental analysis of my current situation. Just to kinda get a grip on what exactly it is that I’ll be leaving behind. And I’ve realised that I’m living a pretty damn comfortable life. I’m financially independent. I’ve got amazing friends. I’ve got a promising career ahead of me. I really dig my job. I love South Africa. I love the people. Even with many things missing from my life, I’m happier than some people will ever be.

So this is the perfect time to give everything up. It’s the clever way, like walking out of the casino when you’ve won your bucks. Thanks, much appreciated, check you later. Leaving a pseudo-perfect life behind means that my move is out of choice, not out of circumstance. I’m not running away from anything. I’m not leaving in fear of my future. I’m not seeking greener pastures. The grass I’m feeding on is pretty damn green. But I’ve never grazed on Japanese grass, which is more than enough reason to do it.

We’ve only got one planet. Go explore it.

I Don't Dream

This picture has been floating around in my head the past few days. It was the first Dali I ever saw, in a book about dreams or psychology, something of the subconscious.
Can't remember, I was very young..

Speak Softly

I've been so manically busy at work the past few weeks, that I haven't checked out my friends' blogs in quite a while. I don't see them half as often as I'd like, so The Blog plays a convenient, yet sterile role in me knowing what's going on in their lives. Make do with what you have.

I gave up on cleaning schedules and micro reports, and decided to wander down their mind lanes for a while. It left me feeling the way that I feel after witnessing any great work of art - both inspired and despondent. But for different reasons, this time around.

Be kind to people you meet for the first time - every person is fighting their own personal battle.