I had a fight

My ex and I had a fight tonight (and trust me, this is not like the usual ex-stories people tell).

It's an interesting dynamic because of the nature of our campus and the campus activities here. I am editor-in-chief of our campus newspaper, and he trained me in the job.

Our break-up in February was very bad and for a long time he treated me terribly. The past few months we've been friends, and it has been good. But this week he is angry with me for something. I haven't done anything wrong - somebody asked me a question and I answered. He seems to think that I smeared his name.

We had words tonight. He was treating me like a dog, and I couldn't pretend it's okay this time. So at some point I told him, "Get out of my office and get stuffed."

He left immediately and me, being stupid as I am, felt bad. So I went after him and said I'm sorry. He carried on walking. I SMS'd him.

ME:

Okay, you didn't have to hear me out. I'm sorry, I know that was uncalled for. But I am sorry. I don't know what I was thinking.

HIM:

YOU NEVER THINK! PERIOD!

I cried. I am afraid. He has a lot of influence on campus, and I am running for our student representative council at the moment. I am prepared for the possibility of losing the elections - but I want it to be fair. I have witnessed him seeing to it that staff at the university don't get re-hired; as a personal vendetta.

I still feel bad. It is taking all my resolve not to go to his room and apologise again.

What sucks is that he has treated me like total crap several times, and he has hardly ever apologised. It doesn't seem to bother him when he hurts me. I was a confident, successful young lady. And he has managed, over the past year, to break down every grain of confidence I have. He managed to make me believe that I was worthless. And yet here I am, worried that I hurt the man who claims to be untouchable.

On blogging and House

I recently watched House Season 6, Episode 15 (I thought it was 14, but the giant web tells me it’s 15).

It is the episode where the team must diagnose Frankie, the blogger lady. It set me thinking on blogging and privacy and the reasons why I’m possibly not as good a blogger as I am a writer.*

At the beginning, Frankie’s husband is upset that she’s blogged their arguments.

"I want to be a big part of your life, but I don’t want to be a part of their lives!"

I think I respect the people in my life too much to just write about them. Surely they wouldn’t always like being mentioned in something which they cannot control. That’s why in the past I’ve used nom-de-plumes or initials only; and eventually just stopped trying to identify them to my [possible] readers.

Taub and House have an interesting banter.

CHASE: I don’t get putting my whole life online.

That’s what my ouma and parents say too.

TAUB: It’s not that crazy. Privacy is basically a modern invention. Towns used to be too small for anybody to keep any secrets.

I come from a similar set-up. I didn’t always enjoy it.

HOUSE: And knowing too much about each other is exactly why people leave small towns and move to the city.

And now I’m in a huge city and I .want people to know about my life. God, I can’t figure out what I want.

TAUB: And a lot of people choose to stay because in return for zero privacy you get community, connection.

HOUSE: Connections are for airports. For peole we have over 300 TV channels.

Irrelevant, but funny.

Or maybe it is relevant. Maybe those of us who blog are the ones who dislike that we live in an era of decreased human connection. So we use the very tool that has, to a large extent, caused that to remedy our problem.

I am too afraid to mention my name on this blog and too afraid to advertise the link because I am afraid my family will find it. I have secrets which I don’t want them to know. Like the fact that I haven’t studied at all for my very important Urogenital System test tomorrow.

And despite my efforts to hide it from them, I still do not blog about what I really want to, in fear that they do find it.

House says,

"If they don't kill you, secrets keep you warm and fuzzy."

* As it stands, does Blogspot have an app to tell you the hits you have? Wordpress does but I do prefer Blogger.

For an uncle who left us 2010-07-10

I always knew that one day Pappa would call and he would use that tone of voice and say,
“Pappa het slegte nuus vandag.”*
And somebody would be gone.

I was jabbering on about my rash. My stupid goddamn rash that had me worried that I was dying. He was quiet. I think I heard him sniff and maybe I knew that something was the matter and so I carried on jabbering until he had to interrupt me.

So many thoughts can be thought in a second.
Inasplitsecond.

Is it my puppy; did she run in front of a car?
It can’t be Mamma or one of the kids because then Dad wouldn’t be able to break the news.
And I saw Ouma just the other day and she was healthy. Please don’t let it be her.
Give me strength.

Not once did I think it might be you.

It serves as a stark reminder that none of us thought to call you, to remind you that we love you.

I wish you didn’t have to be in that dark place. I know what it is like to want to leave and I wish I could have helped you. If but I knew.

You were there when I was christened. You had a keen interest in my music, my karate, my academics. You treated me as though I were a prodigy.
You were convinced that I would be a great doctor.
You said you would stay alive long enough for me to operate on you!!!
I don’t understand.

Just the other day we joked about how you always had your GPS set on some foreign language.
You had a knack for languages, I’m sure.
You were a brilliant musician. A gifted photographer.
I wish I knew you better.

You helped me to buy a camera just the other day.
Two months ago, that’s when I last saw you.
I never replied to the last SMS I sent you. I wish I had known.

The guilt-trip is no use, I know.
But, oh, I know that there have been times that a friendly SMS has lifted a cold blade harmlessly from marble skin.
And while it may not have helped... what if it had?

I don’t even know if I have a photo with you, but for the one when I was three months old and dedicated to the church.

I wanted to show you the photos from my trip. I wanted to let you photograph me, like you always said you wanted to. I wanted to make music for you again like I had when I was younger.

It doesn’t feel like you have left. I cannot imagine that you are no longer here. Perhaps it is a dream. Perhaps it never happened. Out here, without my family, I feel nothing.

Many who love you are angry with you.
They point to people dying of cancer, people who wish to live, and they ask how you could take the decision into your own hands.
What they do not know is that you too suffered a cancer; a cancer that ate at your soul until you did not feel alive. Until the only feeling you knew was pain.

But though I remember how you must have felt...
I still do not understand.

[* "I have bad news today"]

Rediscovery

I forgot about this blog. It's been more than a year since I posted anything here.
University has been tougher than I ever anticipated and the academic aspect is only the beginning. I've completely failed to adjust here and I seem to have lost all creativity.
It is 01:21 here and I should sleep, since my friends and I are going shopping, via the train tomorrow. I will write again soon though. Like, tomorrow, if all goes well.
Also, something is wrong with me.
2 week history of lymphadenopathy and today I woke up with a maculopapular rash. No haemorrhaging though and it's more palpable than visible. I don't feel sick at all, but it does bother me.