Tuesday, April 27, 2010

On Freedom Day

The western land, nervous under the beginning change. The Western States, nervous as horses before a thunder storm. The great owners, nervous, sensing change, knowing nothing of the nature of the change. The great owners, striking at the immediate thing, the widening government, the growing labo[u]r unity; striking at new taxes, at plans; not knowing these things are results, not causes. Results, not causes; results, not causes. The causes lie deep and simply- the causes are a hunger in a stomach, multiplied a million times; a hunger in a single soul, hunger for joy and some security, multiplied a million times; muscles and mind aching to grow, to work, to create, multiplied a million times. The last clear definite function of man- muscles aching to work, minds aching to create beyond the single need- this is man. To build a wall, to build a house, a dam, and in the wall and house and dam to put something of Manself , and to make Manself take back something of the wall, the house, the dam; to take hard muscles from lifting, to take the clear lines and form from conceiving. For man, unlike any other thing organic or inorganic in the universe, grows beyond his work, walks up the stairs of his concepts, emerges ahead of his accomplishments. This you may say of man- when theories change and crash, when schools, philosophies, when narrow dark alleys of thought, national, religious, economic, grow and disintegrate, man reaches, stumbles forward, painfully, mistakenly sometimes. Having stepped forward, he may slip back, but only half a step, never the full step back. This you may say and know it and know it. This you may know when the bombs plummet out of the black planes on the market place, when prisoners are stuck like pigs, when the crushed bodies drain filthily in the dust. You may know it in this way. If the step were not being taken, if the stumbling-forward ache were not alive, the bombs would not fall, the throats would not be cut. Fear the time when the bombs stop falling while the bombers live- for every bomb is proof that the spirit has not died. And fear the time when the strikes stop while the great owners live- for every little beaten strike is proof that the step is being taken. And this you can know- fear the time when Manself will not suffer and die for a concept, for this one quality is the foundation of Manself, and this one quality is man, distinctive in the universe.
If you who own the things people must have could understand this, you might preserve yourself. If you could separate causes from results, if you could know that Paine, Marx, Jefferson, Lenin, were results, not causes, you might survive. But that you cannot know. For the quality of owning freezes you forever into “I”, and cuts you off forever from the “we”.
-The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck

Friday, April 16, 2010

Would the real Anton Taylor please shut up?

A lot of people are up in arms about this Anton Taylor chick who wrote some very nasty hate mail about Stellenbosch University. She displayed her sore-loserness quite clearly and said things which I feel are either untrue or true of both universities. Now, while I did not want to give her the satisfaction of a response, this cannot be ignored completely. Nor can the fact that Stellenbosch won Varsity Cup fair and square. Just like last year. And the year before.
I thought perhaps she was ridiculously good-looking, suave and gifted with an enormous penis to justify this douchebaggery. But oh, oh no. Oh... NOT.
She is the hairy one with the big thighs and the vomit.
[PS. I only assume this is a girl because of the whining, the bitching, and the boobs.]

Thursday, April 8, 2010

My New Drug

I once saw pictures Liam had taken, which had in them what had to be South Africa's most well-dressed male. His name, I later found out, is Christopher Wagner and I was instantly a fan. I met him at Oppikoppi last year and seeing as I was so smoorverlief with his style, I ran about a hundred meters back to where Liam and I had said goodbye to him, just to tell him exactly what I thought of his dress sense [think every positive adjective in your vocabulary]. Since then we have hung out more often, bumping into one another at gigs and things like Audi Joburg Fashion Week. Now, he has gotten me onto what has to be the worst addiction I have ever had: Lookbook.
I have used half of my cap for this month, and it is because of Lookbook. Check it out, and please do have a look at my profile and - 'looks' here.
Enjoy the addiction!
PS. Also DO check out SuperSneakyStreetScene.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

The effing D-words using the k-word, ET. SMH.

Between having watched Sweeney Todd last night, being a quarter of the way through In Cold Blood and Eugene Terre’blanche being murdered, life is feeling pretty gorey right now.
Firstly, Dozi has been making all sorts of unnecessary racist comments. This D-word has been using the k-word. And by ‘D-word’ I am not referring to his name. I mean he’s a doos. It is because of attitudes like his that the ‘Rainbow Nation’ remains an ideal which describes only South Africa’s demographic variety, not its attitudes.
Let us not forget the deaths for which Eugene Terre’blanche was responsible. Rumours are he was killed by farm workers. With his history, combined with his having allegedly refused to pay wages and –gotten into trouble before for physically abusing a worker, many people are surprised he lasted this long. I am not justifying his murder, but one must not lose sight of the fact that this 'leader' was a terrible man in many ways, and to suddenly create Facebook groups in memory of him, where the Boere must 'stand together' tells me people have forgotten what he really represented.
Let us not make this about race. Stop, and consider the possibility it was a senseless murder like the countless others that happen in this country. We simply cannot always make everything about race; what will we DO when a white person kills another white person? Because here is a shocking truth: white people kill too. They rape, they steal and they do all the other bad things we seem to blame only on black people [or coloured people, in certain parts of the world] in this country. And yes, racism goes both ways. It is wrong, in both directions.
Let us not tie this to Julius Malema. What he has been doing is not right, but this cannot be made his fault. Make connections where there are linked paths, do not get all Nancy Drew on matters that are either far more complicated than you understand, or far more simple than you may think.
Let us not forget the other man who died this weekend, albeit a long time ago: Jesus Christ. He died for the sins of all, regardless of colour. And for those of you ‘Christians’ making racist comments, sitting innocently in church today: that is NOT Christianity. Christianity is Christ’s teachings, and he preached loving one’s neighbour, not loving only those with whom our skin colour or political beliefs correspond.
When people cry out that he did not deserve to die like that, I ask, ‘Does anyone?’ But his, like any other, was a murder. A death, an untimely exit and, to some, a tragedy. Nobody deserves to be murdered, and that is what we must focus on, rather than the hype the media and ill-informed people are creating about race, Julius Malema and all the other political bullshit they know nothing about.
Let us not fight violence with violence. Your logic may tell you that this is counter-productive, especially when the primary goal is not peace but victory.
Let us not get irrationally scared. This is not war. This is not the end of South Africa, or life as we know it. For all you Afrikaners stocking up on locks, ammunition and racist Facebook statuses, remember this-
Imagination, of course, can open any door- turn the key and let terror walk right in.’
-In Cold Blood, Truman Capote

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Nothing Better

Last year I busied myself with a lot of things. Well, obviously 'a lot' is subjective, but for a 20 year-old, this seemed like a lot.
I got up at 04h30 every day to be at studio at MFM at 5am to do the Breakfast Show from 6-9am. I had 22 lectures a week, my majors being Political Science, English and Mandarin. I also had 2 extra modules. I co-ran a website called LifeAfter5 with The GBF, writing features, taking photographs and trying out new restaurants. I wrote for YourLMG, One Small Seed and occasionally the campus paper. This entailed going to gigs a couple of times a week to write reviews and get photographs, getting me into bed some time around 2am- not ideal for someone with a 04h30 wake-up call. I had this blog, and I did shows twice a month on MK. I also kept a fairly healthy social life alive, and always managed to dress well before running out the door. I was busy.
I hate not being busy. I work well under extreme pressure, and the more I do, the more I get done.
This year is different. Mondays are all Supersport- whether I am flying somewhere or driving-, between meetings, facs checks, make-up and rehearsal, Mondays are out for anything but work.
Tuesday afternoons from 3pm I help out at an orphanage, then I have class from 5-7pm.
Wednesday mornings I have class from 9am until we finish [which may not be later than 1pm], and then I'm back at the orphanage until 5pm.
Thursdays to Sundays I do whatever I want. This is a bit of university work, some admin, housekeeping [or makeovering, in my case] and a lot of shopping.
As I write this I am still in my pyjamas, and the clock has just struck 12. It is afternoon, and I am still in my pyjamas! So, I have learnt a fairly important skill this year: how to relax. I realised a few years ago I find it impossibly stressful to lie on the couch doing nothing. I am always finding something to do, fidgeting, making plans and I sometimes think I leave everything to the last second just for the thrill of it, the ongoing quest to never find myself standing still! But here I am, chilling. I still cannot sleep later than 9am or I panic that I have wasted a day of my life. But I am watching more television [good film and the mindless stuff like lifestyle programmes], I am reading more [just finished Jude the Obscure which has shot to close to the top of my list, now onto In Cold Blood] and I am learning how to 'take it easy'. I still get done what needs to be done, but I also find time to sit down and eat, rather than going through a day forgetting to eat or, as sometimes happened, pee.
So, although it seems everyone is more expert at relaxing than I am, I have a tip: chill. Things to do on this long weekend Saturday: watch a good film; watch Man U vs Chelsea later [and do cheer for Chelsea, please]; read Jude the Obscure; walk your dog [especially if it has taken to chewing every thing you own] and go shopping. Speaking of shopping, I have found [after 6 years of questing] the perfect boots. And no, I am not telling you where they're from.
So, enjoy this Saturday being useless and getting fat! That's an order.
PS. I need a job. I am bored out of my mind.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Guess Who's Back

Hello, it's me [for a change].
I have been neglecting this blog. It was a combination of settling in to a very new lifestyle and starting designing a website. So, soon you will be clicking on www.lizekay.co.za for something that is even cooler than this!
The following post has no specific agenda. It's a ranty-updaty-I'm-still-alive post, just for just. I was going to do this yesterday, but with April Fucking Fools you would probably not even have clicked on the link in case something stupid happened, like the computer told you you're pregnant and before you can even stop and remember you're a virgin you're so wound up and suicidal, and just as you're about to hang yourself with a laptop charger you get an e-mail saying 'You're an idiot. But if you want a bigger penis, click here.'
Let's start with an update. I have moved from Stellenbosch to Pretoria [but you know this because it happened in January]. I am doing honours in Media and Culture Studies at Tuks, but don't ask me how that is going. So far my marks are good, but between only having classs twice a week and knowing all of three people in campus, it hardly feels like I am studying. It's just so different from Stellenbosch where you not only live in campus [because the entire town is 'campus'], but I also got there at 5am every day for work, and had at least 4 lectures a day. So, studies: 'whatever'. It just doesn't feel like a big feature in my life.
I moved into a 2-bedroom house [and I live alone because I don't like people and I had my fair share of psycho flatmates in Stellenbosch], and much of my free time has been spent home makeovering. The living-/dining room area is finally done, and it looks amazing. Now to muster the strength to start on my bedroom. But seriously, it is hard work and it looks great, so please come visit and tell me how great it looks.
I got a job. For 8 weeks I presented Varsity Cup on Supersport, and I loved it! I had a lot of fun being on camera but also working with my crew [which, in two months, included ONE other female]. I was recognised by many people [which is great not for the 'fame' bullshit, but for being recognised for what I do], every Monday I received about 15 Friend Requests on Facebook [IGNORE] and I even got one times hate mail. Maties also won, like we knew they would. It was great! Varsity Cup is over now so who knows what's next, but if I could stay in sports television I would.
Speaking of work, I miss radio every day. I am trying to get back in, but I understand that walking out of a community radio station into something big is going to take time, hard work and standing out. And as hard as I am on myself [I am currently one step away from depression over 'What next?' and 'I'm not doing anything with my life!'], I had something of a revelation last year, and it went like this: 'Lize, you are only 21. Chill the fuck out.' I am trying.
I love Pretoria. The people are great and making friends is easy. For my industry, work is better [and more plentiful]. I have been back to Stellenbosch and Cape Town a few times for work, and though I miss the scenery and things I used to do there, I miss the people the most. But people tend to act like the Cape is perfect and everything else is terrible. It's not, on both accounts. I love Pretoria, and though I sometimes miss Cape Town I know I could never live in Stellenbosch again. But it's the people, not the place...
Now, for a little rant. I have seen 3 people in the last few days who are guilty of this, and I must voice my opinion. Said people are Afrikaans. Yet they choose to write, blog, tweet, speak and do all the other 'communication' things in English. Why? Fuck knows. I have a feeling it has to do with 'acceptance'. Maybe accessibility? But why would you suffer through the labour of writing in the language that is not the language of your mind, to produce a piece of writing so ridden with errors that it may as well be a different language altogether? If you think it better to write in English because more people can understand it, think again: those English people are more likely to give up halfway through whatever you are saying because your grammatical abomination is making their eyes bleed and the laptop is starting to fizz. Instead of trying so desperately to 'fit in' and cater for the masses, why not embrace your differentness? There are countless people in South Africa [and the world, obviously] who only speak one language, which I find a little sad. So, be proud that you can speak something other than English, and cater for those who are with you. Also, you're more likely to get it right. Small things like there vs. their, to vs. too and spelling errors doth a bad writer make. And yes, I am Afrikaans. The difference is I went to an English pre-primary and -high school, where I took English first language on Higher Grade. I think in English, therefore I am, in English.
Stay tuned, I'm back on the blog. More stuff coming soon.
Also, Happy Easter to my believer-friends, especially Mpumi, who is smart and funny and talented and all-round amazing, and Skillie, who is one of the goodest people I know. Note I did not blaspheme in this post.
Enjoy, and before you tuck into that next chocolate bunny, think about my reasons for not eating chocolate. [Sorry to kill your vibe, slotters].