So today was the big day... This Eaglet spread her wings and started a solo flight.
I'd been packing for days, it's been very emotionally draining... and saying goodbye was heart wrenching. Pappa cried, Mamma cried, my sister and brother cried... and Chris was there too to see me off, and he cried too. We all cried. He kissed me in front of my family, which wa the first time ever. It was a nice kiss though, not an all-over-the-floor-PDA-kiss.
I cried. I cried a lot during the 90-minute flight, eating the chocolate Chris bought me. The ladies next to me didn't say anything, maybe it's good. Maybe they didn't notice.
I think a lot now. Did I make the right choice? Will I enjoy the Western Cape? Is Stellenbosch where I belong?
It was a pretty good day though, apart from the accute sadness. The people i'm spending the night with are good friends of Pappa's and the food is great too.
And they took me to the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens! You don't understand how beautiful it is... I'll have to post pictures soon! It's not something you can describe... realizing that this country has so many wow plant species! And it's a lovely place to have a romantic picnic, or to just relax and clean your mind.
I think... I think i will enjoy it here.
But I do miss my family and love so very much.
15 January 2009
06 January 2009
Rant on State Inefficiency
Today I went to the very centre of the city.
I spent four hours on foot, dodging bad taxi drivers and trying to maintain a 360° view so as to prevent becoming a snatch and run victim. I also spent those 4 hours being one of only two white South Africans in, say, a 1km radius.
Now, I know I've been living in South Africa my whole life, but... I was scared. Scared because I could see the shapes of revolvers in some men's pockets. Scared because I didn't like the way the young boys tried rubbing up on me. Scared because, I guess, I wasn't quite used to the kind of streets I was now traipsing through.
I think I started getting used to it though.
What I couldn't get used to, though, was the complete inefficiency.
It took the lady at the court half an hour to make a photocopy of someone's ID in the room next door. Home affairs, Social Service Agencies and the courthouse: they all have ridiculously long queues, buildings that are in such a state that they should be deemed inhabitable and employees who have close to no clue what they are doing.
And they seem to take tea breaks every half-hour.
I understand fully that with our economy, things are not always available as they should be, and people don't always have the education they should have. Fine.
But is it that difficult to send a clerk or any other employee to a course to teach them to look at people when they talk to you? BECAUSE I CAN'T HEAR YOU WHEN YOU ARE TALKING TO THE FLOOR!
At home affairs, the lady taking my details almost declared me MALE! Which must mean she was obviously paying no attention to my decisively female voice or the fact that I was wearing pretty earrings and a shiny hairband and makeup for pete's sake. It's not that difficult.
And at social services nobody had any idea what we were talking to and when we asked someone if his name was so-and-so, he gave us an ugly look, said, "yes, so?" and walked on.
Yes, verrrry professional.
Now, dear government, if I am expected to go on a course with my domestic helper so that we can understand each other's language better, why can you not send your employees on courses to make them more efficient.
It's not rocket science!
After today I am fed up and just about hopeless. I am actually surprised that anything gets done in this country.
Because even if I one day figured out a way of solving some of our country's problems, there would probably be too much beaurocracy and inefficiency to put it in place.
I spent four hours on foot, dodging bad taxi drivers and trying to maintain a 360° view so as to prevent becoming a snatch and run victim. I also spent those 4 hours being one of only two white South Africans in, say, a 1km radius.
Now, I know I've been living in South Africa my whole life, but... I was scared. Scared because I could see the shapes of revolvers in some men's pockets. Scared because I didn't like the way the young boys tried rubbing up on me. Scared because, I guess, I wasn't quite used to the kind of streets I was now traipsing through.
I think I started getting used to it though.
What I couldn't get used to, though, was the complete inefficiency.
It took the lady at the court half an hour to make a photocopy of someone's ID in the room next door. Home affairs, Social Service Agencies and the courthouse: they all have ridiculously long queues, buildings that are in such a state that they should be deemed inhabitable and employees who have close to no clue what they are doing.
And they seem to take tea breaks every half-hour.
I understand fully that with our economy, things are not always available as they should be, and people don't always have the education they should have. Fine.
But is it that difficult to send a clerk or any other employee to a course to teach them to look at people when they talk to you? BECAUSE I CAN'T HEAR YOU WHEN YOU ARE TALKING TO THE FLOOR!
At home affairs, the lady taking my details almost declared me MALE! Which must mean she was obviously paying no attention to my decisively female voice or the fact that I was wearing pretty earrings and a shiny hairband and makeup for pete's sake. It's not that difficult.
And at social services nobody had any idea what we were talking to and when we asked someone if his name was so-and-so, he gave us an ugly look, said, "yes, so?" and walked on.
Yes, verrrry professional.
Now, dear government, if I am expected to go on a course with my domestic helper so that we can understand each other's language better, why can you not send your employees on courses to make them more efficient.
It's not rocket science!
After today I am fed up and just about hopeless. I am actually surprised that anything gets done in this country.
Because even if I one day figured out a way of solving some of our country's problems, there would probably be too much beaurocracy and inefficiency to put it in place.
31 December 2008
No More Matric
I got my Matric results yesterday!
English Home Language: 91%
Afrikaans First Additional Language: 95%
Mathematics: 92%
Life Orientation: 93%
Physics: 80%
Life Sciences: 92%
History: 81%
I am happy with most of those, except History, for which I'm going to get a remark. I generally average 94 for History and my whole school managed to get low marks for that - and it was a great exam, so you must know.
I'm thinking about getting a remark for Physics, but it was a really difficult exam and I'm really thankful to still have an A.
Well, now that is over.
English Home Language: 91%
Afrikaans First Additional Language: 95%
Mathematics: 92%
Life Orientation: 93%
Physics: 80%
Life Sciences: 92%
History: 81%
I am happy with most of those, except History, for which I'm going to get a remark. I generally average 94 for History and my whole school managed to get low marks for that - and it was a great exam, so you must know.
I'm thinking about getting a remark for Physics, but it was a really difficult exam and I'm really thankful to still have an A.
Well, now that is over.
An experience with (a form of) plagiarism
A random search of Google revealed a piece of writing I had written for Youth Yournalism International / The Tattoo earlier this year. It was an opinion piece on the USA Presidential Elections and its effect on South Africa and th African Content.
Youth Journalism International is a non-profit organisation that gives voice to aspiring young writers and journalists. The pieces we write for them remain under their copyright and the editors did inform us in writing that they may give other bodies permission to use our writing.
However, something gave me the inkling that if this site had indeed asked for permission from YJI, they would have informed me. Correspondence brought to light that the site (which, for now, I shall not mention) had indeed not been in contact with YJI. At least they stated my name and affilliation - apparently much worse has happened.
It causes for some concern regarding the electronic media. How many writers will randomly search their name to see if anybody is publishing their work without permission? And who is to say that people will put the author's name - that they do not perhaps pass it off as their own work? Must we then search random phrases in our pieces? What about people who copy only a paragraph?
What about websites that require a membership fee to view material? This will then not show up on a search engine.
I guess plagiarism happens in paper and in electronic media, but truth be told, the internet just makes it that much easier.
Youth Journalism International is a non-profit organisation that gives voice to aspiring young writers and journalists. The pieces we write for them remain under their copyright and the editors did inform us in writing that they may give other bodies permission to use our writing.
However, something gave me the inkling that if this site had indeed asked for permission from YJI, they would have informed me. Correspondence brought to light that the site (which, for now, I shall not mention) had indeed not been in contact with YJI. At least they stated my name and affilliation - apparently much worse has happened.
It causes for some concern regarding the electronic media. How many writers will randomly search their name to see if anybody is publishing their work without permission? And who is to say that people will put the author's name - that they do not perhaps pass it off as their own work? Must we then search random phrases in our pieces? What about people who copy only a paragraph?
What about websites that require a membership fee to view material? This will then not show up on a search engine.
I guess plagiarism happens in paper and in electronic media, but truth be told, the internet just makes it that much easier.
28 December 2008
Musings on oneself
About a year ago, I had this wonderous moment of epiphany. It was as though my eyes opened and I finally saw what I had been, what I went through and what I had become.
And it made sense.
It was wonderful. It was amazing to realize that life had not been pointless, that troubles - although not ordained by a higher power, but allowed; and so used towards a greater plan - truly had obeyed the ancient clichè and made me a better person.
Now I come to a point where I wonder if it really was, because somehwere among the rush and the tears and the achievements of 2008, I seem to have lost myself again. A part of me yearns for a torturous couple of years to mould me back into the person I was, the person admired by so many, the person worthy of life.
I recall walking along a mountain path with him a little over a year ago. I recall telling him that some people aren't made for relationships. That it "cramps their style". That I think I am better off alone.
I fought to be right. I felt I had proved my point. Now I just wish I was wrong.
More than anything, I want to find myself more, I want to find answers to these conundra.
And it made sense.
It was wonderful. It was amazing to realize that life had not been pointless, that troubles - although not ordained by a higher power, but allowed; and so used towards a greater plan - truly had obeyed the ancient clichè and made me a better person.
Now I come to a point where I wonder if it really was, because somehwere among the rush and the tears and the achievements of 2008, I seem to have lost myself again. A part of me yearns for a torturous couple of years to mould me back into the person I was, the person admired by so many, the person worthy of life.
I recall walking along a mountain path with him a little over a year ago. I recall telling him that some people aren't made for relationships. That it "cramps their style". That I think I am better off alone.
I fought to be right. I felt I had proved my point. Now I just wish I was wrong.
More than anything, I want to find myself more, I want to find answers to these conundra.
25 December 2008
I sense a goodbye and I don't like it
Last night:
I was crying all of last night and ended up chatting to one of my good friends on my phone’s IM till about 2am, when I finally fell asleep. It seems that I want a break up now. It seems I finally understand… and it’s horrible because one part of my life wants to stay with Chris, but a tiny part thinks and almost knows that we need to break up.
Quick intro:
For those of you not familiar with the story: we met mid-2004 and a week later he contacted me again. At our first “date” he admitted he liked me. So we started a kind of cycle – we’d become close friends, we’d date, it would be good, then I’d break up with him and he’d be really hurt. Given about a month or three, the same sequence would repeat itself.
Over the years, despite the break ups and the obvious different feelings, we became pretty good friends. Best friends just about, except he treated me way better than I treated him. He said he loved me, and his behaviour proved it. Except I didn’t believe in love (sometimes I still doubt its existence) and I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I think I enjoyed being the heartbreaker for a change.
Finding myself in loneliness:
The three and a half years of being single was good for me. I got to really know myself, what I stood for, what I wanted, what I deserved. I dealt with my past and I started to see what a great guy Chris is. And I’m not sure when this happened, but I came to realize that… I love him. I think it took me six months to admit it to myself.
What you don’t know:
In the three and a half years of being chased, Chris did have other girlfriends. Mainly, I think, because I told him to stop moping. Except, we fooled around and acted a lot like we were dating even when he was in relationships. He cheated on them with me, never with any other girl. And I was the one pushing for it.
Officially:
Beginning 2008 we started dating. And I say that for lack of a better word. And it was wonderful.
Trouble in paradise:
The wheel turns. I started thinking, if he cheated on them, who’s to say he won’t cheat on me? Once a cheater, always a cheater? And yet I was the common factor all those times was me, and according to him he had who he had dreamed of all those years and why would he mess it up now? And in the past year and a half he has done nothing to betray my trust (I have my ways of finding out when guys lie or betray) and yet I find myself not trusting him.
When love isn’t enough:
When we had our break in June this year, one of the things he kept saying when I asked him how he could say it’s over and I love you in the same sentence, was, “sometimes love isn’t enough”. For the longest time I couldn’t forgive him for that. But now? I’m starting to realize what he meant.
Our fights are generally about stupid things. And if he thinks one of my questions are stupid, he won’t answer it even if it won’t make a difference. And I won’t let go. And we’re both so freaking stubborn. And he treats me so well most times, and spoils me, and spends time with me, but times come that I feel emotionally neglected. As though we just can’t give each other what we need right now.
Maybe now just isn’t the right time:
At our last fight, I told him, “maybe you were wrong. Maybe we aren’t meant for each other. Maybe we are both with the completely wrong person. Maybe you made a mistake.” And he said, “Maybe now just isn’t the right time in our lives.”
My attitude this year:
Basically I’ve said, if we break up now, it’s over forever. There’s no such things as realizing a few years from now that he made the biggest mistake of his life. There’s no such thing as wanting me back after a while. But now I’m beginning to think I’m wrong.
So the problem:
I’m going off 1000km (i don't know how many miles... PLENTY) next year to university. This year has been great, having him. But it’s also been awesomely tough. The doubt, the fights. And I’m just beginning to think: maybe we do need time apart. Time to say “no” to people who ask us out, not because we have to (in order not to cheat) but because we realize that they are not what we want or deserve. Time to think about what we want from a relationship and what we want to give. Time for me to think about whether I’m willing to trust him (or another guy) and what I expect of a guy. Time for him to think about how he wants to treat his girl. Time to mature, to be willing to sacrifice and compromise. Time to grow, I guess.
What to do:
I want to maybe have a heart to heart with him. Possibly 2nd or 3rd January. One that isn’t preceded by a fight, so chances of both of us being calm and logical are greater. I am not going to force a break up with him, but I’m going to tell him that I’m struggling to hold on. Mention the possibility of a break up. And decide together. Make agreements. I don’t know, it’s difficult to put it on paper, but hopefully you get the idea.
I don’t know…:
I don’t know if this is a good idea. And I don’t know if I can go through with it. That is what made me cry last night and I’ve been in an irritable and downright horrible mood all day (either the emotional upset, the lack of sleep, PMS or all three). I love him and I have no doubt that he loves me. And I can’t imagine a life without him. I can’t imagine telling my family, because he fits in so perfectly with us.
Little secret: all those years that I gave him bat and treated him badly, when I secretly thought or dreamt of my future kids, I always pictured him as their dad. I used to hate it, because I couldn’t help it.
I was crying all of last night and ended up chatting to one of my good friends on my phone’s IM till about 2am, when I finally fell asleep. It seems that I want a break up now. It seems I finally understand… and it’s horrible because one part of my life wants to stay with Chris, but a tiny part thinks and almost knows that we need to break up.
Quick intro:
For those of you not familiar with the story: we met mid-2004 and a week later he contacted me again. At our first “date” he admitted he liked me. So we started a kind of cycle – we’d become close friends, we’d date, it would be good, then I’d break up with him and he’d be really hurt. Given about a month or three, the same sequence would repeat itself.
Over the years, despite the break ups and the obvious different feelings, we became pretty good friends. Best friends just about, except he treated me way better than I treated him. He said he loved me, and his behaviour proved it. Except I didn’t believe in love (sometimes I still doubt its existence) and I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I think I enjoyed being the heartbreaker for a change.
Finding myself in loneliness:
The three and a half years of being single was good for me. I got to really know myself, what I stood for, what I wanted, what I deserved. I dealt with my past and I started to see what a great guy Chris is. And I’m not sure when this happened, but I came to realize that… I love him. I think it took me six months to admit it to myself.
What you don’t know:
In the three and a half years of being chased, Chris did have other girlfriends. Mainly, I think, because I told him to stop moping. Except, we fooled around and acted a lot like we were dating even when he was in relationships. He cheated on them with me, never with any other girl. And I was the one pushing for it.
Officially:
Beginning 2008 we started dating. And I say that for lack of a better word. And it was wonderful.
Trouble in paradise:
The wheel turns. I started thinking, if he cheated on them, who’s to say he won’t cheat on me? Once a cheater, always a cheater? And yet I was the common factor all those times was me, and according to him he had who he had dreamed of all those years and why would he mess it up now? And in the past year and a half he has done nothing to betray my trust (I have my ways of finding out when guys lie or betray) and yet I find myself not trusting him.
When love isn’t enough:
When we had our break in June this year, one of the things he kept saying when I asked him how he could say it’s over and I love you in the same sentence, was, “sometimes love isn’t enough”. For the longest time I couldn’t forgive him for that. But now? I’m starting to realize what he meant.
Our fights are generally about stupid things. And if he thinks one of my questions are stupid, he won’t answer it even if it won’t make a difference. And I won’t let go. And we’re both so freaking stubborn. And he treats me so well most times, and spoils me, and spends time with me, but times come that I feel emotionally neglected. As though we just can’t give each other what we need right now.
Maybe now just isn’t the right time:
At our last fight, I told him, “maybe you were wrong. Maybe we aren’t meant for each other. Maybe we are both with the completely wrong person. Maybe you made a mistake.” And he said, “Maybe now just isn’t the right time in our lives.”
My attitude this year:
Basically I’ve said, if we break up now, it’s over forever. There’s no such things as realizing a few years from now that he made the biggest mistake of his life. There’s no such thing as wanting me back after a while. But now I’m beginning to think I’m wrong.
So the problem:
I’m going off 1000km (i don't know how many miles... PLENTY) next year to university. This year has been great, having him. But it’s also been awesomely tough. The doubt, the fights. And I’m just beginning to think: maybe we do need time apart. Time to say “no” to people who ask us out, not because we have to (in order not to cheat) but because we realize that they are not what we want or deserve. Time to think about what we want from a relationship and what we want to give. Time for me to think about whether I’m willing to trust him (or another guy) and what I expect of a guy. Time for him to think about how he wants to treat his girl. Time to mature, to be willing to sacrifice and compromise. Time to grow, I guess.
What to do:
I want to maybe have a heart to heart with him. Possibly 2nd or 3rd January. One that isn’t preceded by a fight, so chances of both of us being calm and logical are greater. I am not going to force a break up with him, but I’m going to tell him that I’m struggling to hold on. Mention the possibility of a break up. And decide together. Make agreements. I don’t know, it’s difficult to put it on paper, but hopefully you get the idea.
I don’t know…:
I don’t know if this is a good idea. And I don’t know if I can go through with it. That is what made me cry last night and I’ve been in an irritable and downright horrible mood all day (either the emotional upset, the lack of sleep, PMS or all three). I love him and I have no doubt that he loves me. And I can’t imagine a life without him. I can’t imagine telling my family, because he fits in so perfectly with us.
Little secret: all those years that I gave him bat and treated him badly, when I secretly thought or dreamt of my future kids, I always pictured him as their dad. I used to hate it, because I couldn’t help it.
23 December 2008
The Swiss Ophthalmologist and his Teddy
He was once known as the best ophthalologist in South Africa. He has humour, he has wit, he also has immense wisdom.
He tells us of a difficult childhood. A poor family with five children in Switzerland.
A mother who would always give some soup to the needy, no matter how much she had to dilute it with water. As long as everybody got something.
His father with his faithful watchdog, working as a guard.
And this brilliant little boy whose intelligence wowed his teachers. Teachers who told his parents it would be a sin not to let this boy continue with his schooling straight through to tertiary education.
He took a job and his father took two, just to get him the very best education.
And look at him now. Wealthy. Intelligent. Well-known. STRONG.
Battling cancer and muscular dystrophy, an ex-wife and ungreatful children.
One story from his childhood still makes me cry. He had one toy, just one. A teddybear that was his best friend. He was a little boy of about eight during World War 2 and his teacher told the class about all the little boys and girls whose homes and toys had been destroyed by the bombings. They were going to have a toy collection for these poor little boys and girls and all the children were to bring at least one toy as donation to school during the next week.
This little boy went home and looked at his favourite, loved little companion. And he took the teddy to his teacher the next day and he cried, he cried so much, but he gave it up, and the teacher said not to worry, he is doing a good thing. And for the rest of that week, his teddy-friend sat on Teacher's desk and watched him, and the little boy felt such loneliness.
Could that teacher not see that this boy was poor to, and needed a toy - his ONLY toy? Could she not secretly give it back to him? Did she perhaps at least notice the amazing sacrifice he was making?
I wish I could go back in time and hug that little boy and give him his teddy back.
Because of all the stories the doctor has told us... this is the only one that still makes him cry when he tells it.
He tells us of a difficult childhood. A poor family with five children in Switzerland.
A mother who would always give some soup to the needy, no matter how much she had to dilute it with water. As long as everybody got something.
His father with his faithful watchdog, working as a guard.
And this brilliant little boy whose intelligence wowed his teachers. Teachers who told his parents it would be a sin not to let this boy continue with his schooling straight through to tertiary education.
He took a job and his father took two, just to get him the very best education.
And look at him now. Wealthy. Intelligent. Well-known. STRONG.
Battling cancer and muscular dystrophy, an ex-wife and ungreatful children.
One story from his childhood still makes me cry. He had one toy, just one. A teddybear that was his best friend. He was a little boy of about eight during World War 2 and his teacher told the class about all the little boys and girls whose homes and toys had been destroyed by the bombings. They were going to have a toy collection for these poor little boys and girls and all the children were to bring at least one toy as donation to school during the next week.
This little boy went home and looked at his favourite, loved little companion. And he took the teddy to his teacher the next day and he cried, he cried so much, but he gave it up, and the teacher said not to worry, he is doing a good thing. And for the rest of that week, his teddy-friend sat on Teacher's desk and watched him, and the little boy felt such loneliness.
Could that teacher not see that this boy was poor to, and needed a toy - his ONLY toy? Could she not secretly give it back to him? Did she perhaps at least notice the amazing sacrifice he was making?
I wish I could go back in time and hug that little boy and give him his teddy back.
Because of all the stories the doctor has told us... this is the only one that still makes him cry when he tells it.
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