10 things I learnt this weekend

1. Christmas is definitely here...ho ho ho
2. Stuffing is just too delicious
3. Dancing in the bar with your digs mates is a great way to party on a Friday night
4. Doing Christmas shopping earlier than Christmas Eve is quite smart really
5. Credit cards are potentially dangerous things
6. Movies + snuggling + Astros = yum
7. Nothing beats a sleep in
8. Old friends stay the same...thank goodness!
9. Live music and good company is a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon
10. McDonalds might taste delicious while you eating it...but the guilt and tummy trouble really aren't worth it!

Wise words from my diary...

"Change and growth take place when a person has risked himself and dares to become involved with experimenting with his own life" 
- Herbert Otto

Coincidentally, I read this words after a moment of 'Oh my goodness, seriously this for another year!' and made me get very very itchy feet.
I have been enjoying a slightly less stressful week [a conclusion no doubt drawn from the number of posts already this month!]- which I think I deserve after producing 5 magazines in 3 months - because my brain is rather fried and holidays couldn't come sooner.
But does my boss mind me resting up a bit? Yes, it seems so! Because he asked if I've started working on my January features!!! Are you kidding!!

While I'm not going to do anything extreme like quit my job, I certainly need to start hatching a plan on ways to risk and experiment with my life (I'm not talking drugs here) to have a fun-filled amazing 2011! 

10 things I learnt this weekend

Jax Panik on Friday night....check out the skulls for hidden name.

1. Doing something different on a Friday night is refreshing - interesting place, interesting people and of course, the free drinks and entertainment that comes with a product launch.
2. Trust Curly's gaydar [he got hit on by a gay guy who I thought was straight. Luckily the dude left 'gorgeous' Curly alone coz of me].
3. Going out just the two of you is good for some more romantic sparkle.
4. Swimming in the summer sun brings out the kid in everyone...cue boys balancing on logs (yes the tree kind!) and all of us having back flip competitions.
5. Greenside is a really awesome place to jam on a Saturday night.
6. It is absolutely stupid to worry about money when you are having an experience because you will completely miss out on the good time at hand.
7. Sleeping in is good for the body and soul. Nothing beats a Sunday afternoon nap.
8. Leftovers taste better with age [this does not apply to all meals of course]
9. Walking in the neighbourhood with good company is beautifully relaxing and enjoyable.
10. Mint chocolate in bed is delicious.

The Grog Jog

So I did something quite bizarre yesterday. I embarked on the annual Wanderers / Old Eds Pub Run, which entailed a 10km run, with four stops at pubs along the way.

I don’t know what I was more nervous about – the 10km (having only ever run that far once in my life) or the drinking (I’m very much a light-weight as those that know me are too aware) or the combination of the two.

I had heard scary stories about shots at every stop, people vomiting on the side of the road, stumbling through the last stretch and then a whole bunch of randoms jumping into the pool naked at the end.

Luckily, three of my housemates were also taking part so I definitely felt morally supported.

One of them, G, was possibly more nervous than me and had bought supplies for the event on his way home: pasta salad to carbo load, energade for that extra kick and a little packet of peanuts of raisins in his pocket for that mid-race energy boost (so cute!)

We also came to the conclusion that this was meant to be something exciting and enjoyable seeing as we had chosen to do it, and paid for the experience!

Upon registering we were all given an amusing shirt to set the tone, with the slogan: I’m not an alcoholic, I’m an athlete (this was definitely swapped around by the end of the night). My shirt was not in the pile (panic!) and then we realised that someone else had taken it, so I was Lauren Freeman for the night [we met later and reclaimed our identities!]

The 150-strong group set off from the club at a leisurely pace (a slow start, I like) and then speeded up to a gentle jog (this was going to be ok). It didn’t take too long before we reached the first pub, where I eagerly gulped down my first Savannah. G and I were the only ones with sweaty faces…hmmm! We put the blame on our sweat suits (Free shirt over our original one) and then we were ready for the next leg.

Not so fun running with bubbles fizzing in your tum, and knowing that you still have a long way to go. A taxi hooted loudly, cheering us on!

A bit of an uphill, G fell by the wayside and decided to walk, and then it was the Inanda stop. I chose a Spin – sweet for energy – rather sweet for slightly sick feeling!

Next leg….had a few moments when I could feel the bubbles bubbling up and had to take a few deep breaths to keep them down there – or at least only come out as burps!

Turtle Creek was our next stop, another delicious drink and then there is a heavy uphill to the last stop at Garden Court. – G chose a water at this point (only slight judging!)

And then it was time for the last stretch.

2 1/2 km!!! Uphill!!! Along Rivonia Road!!!

By this stage, the knees were getting sore and the drinks had definitely hit!! Got to run past a few prozzies on Oxford Street, one in just red lingerie and a coat (she asked one of the guys if he was coming back for her later) and then Hooray! We had reached the finish line at the Protea Hotel.

Tradition has always been to jump in the pool (fully clothed thank goodness) and so I duly took off my shoes, my grog jog shirt (clever thinking there Fluff!) and hopped on in.

Some of the security guards were not impressed and told us that the pool was only for hotel guests (I thought they were joking and playing along!) and then one guy went up to the scary looking white hotel manager to pretend to throw him in (all in the spirit right?) but he slipped on the wet tiles, and undercut the dude’s footing. He was FAR from impressed and told us to get out immediately (we were all canning ourselves). But shame, I think he felt rather humiliated!

So back to the start we went, dripping, to claim our final drink and munch on an enormous burger! A prize was handed out – running shoes, how appropriate – and then it was time for home (very wise decision considering I had to be at work the next day and a few weeks ago a Thursday night razzle ended very badly).

I think the alcohol only hit my system at about 1am – because I woke up disorientated, tried to take out my contacts again and then couldn’t sleep for an hour!

In conclusion: I did Grog and Jog and remarkably, did not end up with my head in the Bog!

10 things men do that irritate women

Not original I'm afraid, but something very amusing (and very true) that I found while browsing the net!

10 things men do that irritate women

• Thinking your driver's licence is not real. Somehow men just don't see your driver's licence as being quite as valid as theirs. Often, they would prefer to drive the whole way – even if it's 1 500 km – rather than asking you to drive for an hour or two. Point is, percentage-wise, women are involved in far fewer accidents than men are – ask any insurance company.

• Assuming the house cleans itself. This is a big one. Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings, but no, wet underwear does not remove itself from the bathroom floor, food does not miraculously appear on the table, or in the fridge, clean and ironed clothes do not get into the cupboard by themselves and the dishes don't clean by themselves overnight. Someone does all these things. Who do you think it could be? Could it be the other person in the house who also has a nine-to-five job? Wouldn't it be nice to wash the dishes every now and then without expecting a Nobel Peace Prize for doing it?

• Being jealous. It drives women away when men treat them like awaiting-trial prisoners, whose every move is under scrutiny. When men do this, it's about their own insecurities and their fear of rejection. When a man treats a woman like this, isolating her and accusing her of all sorts of things, he is showing his fear, not his love, and exhibiting what he thinks is his right to treat her like a possession. Most women find relationships like these claustrophobic in the extreme.

• Putting their mother on a pedestal. Right, every woman has her bad and good qualities, but he thinks his mother is directly related to the archangel Gabriel. Your cooking, housekeeping skills, social skills, whatever, always fall short in comparison. And any criticism you express of this wondrous creature makes him look as if he's just been kicked in the teeth by his best friend.

• It's win, win, win, all the way. Life, according to men, is one long competition, in which there are winners and losers. Women tend to be more co-operative and conciliatory by nature. Being fiercely competitive obviously has a place, but not when you're playing Ludo with your ten-year-old nieces and nephews.

• Assuming their spending is necessary and women's wasteful. The subscription to the golf club is essential – more essential than toothpaste. Many men – there are fortunately exceptions – have no idea what basic household necessities cost. These days it's very easy to spend a thousand rand on unromantic household necessities like coffee, toilet cleaner, dog food and cereal. The cost of food has spiralled in South Africa in the last year, and it's not your partner's fault. She is not wasting money on luxuries.

• Rather committing hara-kiri than asking directions. So what's the deal here? Is a man expected to know all roads leading everywhere, even if he's not been there before? And what would happen if he stopped and asked someone instead of driving in circles for 45 minutes? Instantaneous combustion? A public whipping? Instant castration? Surely not, but the prospect, for some reason, is as daunting. Almost as daunting as going to see the doctor about their foot that's starting to look gangrenous.

• Wanting to fix things, instead of listening to you. You've had a bad day – the twins had diarrhoea, the domestic worker didn't arrive, but what did arrive was a hefty bill from the Receiver of Revenue. All you want is a sympathetic ear and a pat on the back and a tissue or two, and what do you get? Suggestions about medication, an offering to fire the domestic worker and the telephone number of his tax consultant. OK, that's kind, but it's not what you wanted. You wanted a shoulder to cry on.

• A thing of beauty forever. Men, who have gone completely bald and who have a beer belly that would have won them the Ventersdorp Mr Boep competition if they had entered, assume that all women still find them attractive and flirt with them accordingly. What's more, they notice an extra three kilos on their wives – and comment on it. Whatever happened to what was good for the goose, being good for the gander and all that?

• They get paid more for doing the same thing. Technically this shouldn't be the case – after all we have one of the most advanced constitutions in the world, don't we? But, statitistics still tell the sorry tale of women being stuck in low-paid, heavygoing jobs with low starting salaries and lower low glass ceilings. And, if one asks around, it still happens frequently that men are paid higher starting salaries than women are.

But then, to balance all this out, there are the bear hugs when you really need them, the sorting out of the dent in your car, the e-mail just to tell you he loves you and the graciousness with which he deals with your difficult mother. - (Susan Erasmus, Health24)

My own similar version, from a writing exercise at Varsity will follow soon.

Money has me hostage

Ka Ching!

That’s exactly the noise that I hear inside my brain when I see that I’ve been paid. This is generally discovered after I’ve been hovering at my internet banking for the last few days of the month because I don’t get a payslip. In fact, I actually don’t know how much I get paid – before tax I mean – because I got a little raise a few months back and now I’m just not sure what I’m grossing. Think I need to start getting payslips again!

Budget calculations are very scary, I prefer to go with the ‘ignorance is bliss’ train of thought but this ALWAYS leads me to be being absolutely broke for the last week of the month. Where I inevitably dig in to my savings (at least I am saving in the first place right?!) So on Sunday night I had some time to kill – flight back from Cape Town at 10pm, needed to stay awake so I could actually sleep when I got home – and decided to work out my budget for the upcoming month.

Net Income – Rent – student loan repayment – medical expenses – gym membership – retirement fund – savings contribution – food shop for digs – petrol = NOT A LOT AT ALL!

I think I still prefer the blind approach!

So I’ve now divided what’s left between the number of days between now and the next pay check and given myself a daily allowance, which may be spent on whatever or saved up for something more.

In theory, this should mean I don’t run out of money.

But then, we have the weekends to contend with: pre drinks, going out, a meal out, maybe a movie, and the occasional treat – and that comes to a lot more than the daily allowance.

So then the solution is to not spend anything during the week so I can afford the weekends.

So let me get this straight – in less than a year of working I have begun living for my pay check, and when I get it, I work out how little I actually have and then start living for the next one.

And that’s without the bond, children’s school fees and the rest that comes along in a few years. And the medical aid, car insurance and cellphone contract that should be coming next year.

It truly does appear that money has me hostage and absolutely controls what I do and too much of what I’m thinking about.

Not good.

This must be the capitalist society. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

And it’s time that I break free from the rand ropes that tie me down. But how?

• A treat, like a cappuccino on the way to work, or juice when I’ve been shopping must become a rare sighting. Once a week maximum- that should come to
• I need to chose to do things that I really want to do – and not go out to eat, or movies or drinks, willy nilly just because I’m invited (I guess that way I will also appreciate the times more?)
• Do things on weekends that don’t cost a lot. This shall require some investigation but camping, hiking, braais and meals at home rather than out are all ways to enjoy the weekend without the price tag
• Start a splash out jar – for coins, random notes I have around – and once I’ve saved enough I can really enjoy whatever it is that I want to do at the time
• Get Curly on a similar mindset
• Enjoy people, not things

Money may make the world go around – but it’s not going to make mine!

The wonder of words

splash
                                                CRASH
                whirl
                       a
              dnuor

words are a wonderful tool

THAT
MAKE
A
POINT.
                 or gloriously slide
                          down
                                  a goblet
                                              of 
nothingness.

I am blessed to have them all at my disposal

An overcast afternoon

Silvery grey,
the sky is a chilly blanket
that reminds me of being at the beach - weird
My mood is similar:
chilled
lazy
wishing for a warm bed
Snuggled 
like 
a
little
worm
in the earth
Just looking up at the silvery sky

Top ten reasons for morning exercise

I'm trying to get back in to the morning gym routine (and out of the rationalisation that I cannot do without those two extra hours of sleep) and I found these tips - courtesy of sparkpeople.com a helpful shove out of bed in the right direction!

1. Exercising early in the morning "jump starts" your metabolism, keeping it elevated for hours, sometimes for up to 24 hours! As a result, you’ll be burning more calories all day long—just because you exercised in the morning.
    
2. Exercising in the morning energizes you for the day—not to mention that gratifying feeling of virtue you have knowing you’ve done something disciplined and good for you. (Much better than a worm!)
    
3. Studies have shown that exercise significantly increases mental acuity—a benefit that lasts four to ten hours after your workout ends. Exercising in the a.m. means you get to harness that brainpower, instead of wasting it while you’re snoozing.
    
4. Assuming you make exercise a true priority, it shouldn’t be a major problem to get up 30 to 60 minutes earlier—especially since regular exercise generally means a higher quality of sleep, which in turn means you’ll probably require less sleep. (If getting up 30 to 60 minutes earlier each day seems too daunting, you can ease into it with 10 to 20 minutes at first.)
    
5. When you exercise at about the same time every morning—especially if you wake up regularly at about the same time—you’re regulating your body's endocrine system and circadian rhythms. Your body learns that you do the same thing just about every day, and it begins to prepare for waking and exercise several hours before you actually open your eyes. That’s beneficial because:
   
   
   • Your body’s not “confused” by wildly changing wake-up times, which means waking up is much less painful. (You may even find that you don’t need an alarm clock most days.)
   • Hormones prepare your body for exercise by regulating blood pressure, heart rate, blood flow to muscles, etc.
   • Your metabolism, along with all the hormones involved in activity and exercise, begin to elevate while you're sleeping. As a result, you’ll feel more alert, energized, and ready to exercise when you do wake up.

6.  Many people find that morning exercise has a tendency to regulate their appetite for the rest of the day. Not only do they eat less (since activity causes the release of endorphins, which in turn diminishes appetite), they also choose healthier portions of healthier foods.
    
7. People who consistently exercise find, sometimes to their great surprise, that the appointed time every morning evolves into something they look forward to. Besides the satisfaction of taking care of themselves, they find it’s a great time to plan their day, pray, or just think more clearly—things most of us often don’t get to do otherwise.
    
8. Exercising first thing in the morning is the most foolproof way to ensure that other things don’t overtake your fitness commitment, particularly if you have a hectic family life. (It’s so easy to wimp out in the evening, when we’re tired or faced with such tasks as rustling up dinner and helping with homework.)
    
9. More than 90% of those who exercise consistently have a morning fitness routine. If you want to exercise on a regular basis, the odds are in your favor if you squeeze your workout into the a.m.
    
10. Non-morning people can always trick themselves in the a.m. Having trouble psyching yourself up for a sunrise jog? Do what I did—tell yourself that you’ll still be so fast asleep that you won’t even remember—much less mind!  

I am grateful...

Carrying on with my new positive mindset, the month of November is dedicated to me showing what I am grateful for. Every day, one reason (in no particular order):

1.  I am grateful that I am alive and have the ability to experience and interact with the world around me. "Life is a succession of moments. To live each one is to succeed" - Sister Corita Kent.
2. I am grateful that I have an enormous family of cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents who cherish me and are an awful lot of fun to be around. Family teas with Nannavon's scones, cousin weddings and group photos that take forever will always make me smile. I hope that I can have a family of my own as amazing as the one I've grown up with one day.
3. I am grateful that I have friends who laugh with me, love me, deal with my psycho days and my happy days, and even when I have not acted like a good friend, they still stay true to me.   "Friendship is the golden thread that ties the heart of all the world" - John Evelyn. 
4. I am grateful for technology and the Internet. Being able to stay in contact with friends all over the world is amazing and catching up via email or skype brings lots of laughs and memories and erases the distance. 
5. I am grateful for new opportunities and never knowing what's in store for me! 
6. I am grateful for our amazing Creator, who hold me in the palm of his hands and keeps his arms waiting for me to run in to them.
7. I am grateful for Curly - my one. Who makes me laugh at myself, who listens, who comforts, or spends ages talking shit to me every weekend. For being my best friend and my Deli.
8. I am grateful for a job that I enjoy and an office full of people that I like and care for.
9. I am grateful that my parents sacrificed so much to give me the opportunity of going to a private school and amazing university. I will be eternally grateful.
10. I am grateful for a close relationship with my brother. So many siblings don't get that lucky as to have a friend and brother rolled into one. And I can't wait to see him in two weeks time! 
11. I am grateful for the holidays that are coming up - something to look forward to and work for...and the end is nearly in sight! 
12. I am grateful for growing up in a small town - for knowing half the customers when I go shopping, for staying friends with people right through to now and knowing that it will always be home whenever I go back. 
13. I am grateful for friends and family to give me sound advice. 
14. I am grateful for weekends - sleeping in, relaxing, braais, drinks, dancing, concerts, eating out, spending time with everyone I care about. You never appreciate weekends until you're working!
15. I am grateful that I am able to exercise and take care of my body. And even if I don't always like what I see - I need remember to be grateful that I have a fully functional body that doesn't limit my life (except maybe getting into a bikini :)
16. I am grateful for yummy food - like the delicious orange and vanilla cake my colleague brought for his birthday - and being able to savour and enjoy each morsel (well that's the theory...and then I ate two pieces....and now I feel sick)
17. I am grateful for being a South African - what a wild mix of people, culture and beautiful scenery to experience!
18. I am grateful for grandparents - to have grown up with three of them has been something I have taken for granted but a lot of people have not been so lucky. Now that Grandad is so frail though, makes me realise how precious my memories are. 
19. I am grateful for a safe and reliable car to get me from A to B everyday. - Thank you Dad for the most wonderful gift of Splashy (named after an unfortunate incident with a water meter).
20. I am grateful that Mum has found someone to love and cherish and who loves and cherises her back wholeheartedly.
21. I am grateful for music - the stuff that gets me going for a party, relaxes me in my car when I'm stressed or is just there on the airwaves to enjoy. Also, the opportunity to watch music live, like the 30 Seconds to Mars concert I went to on Friday is awesome!
22. I am grateful for learning. To be able to learn something new everyday is a gift and a privilege - something that I should not waste or take for granted.
23. I am grateful that I live in a digs full of cool, chilled people, who motivate me to be more sporty (yes I am contemplating my first 21km) and are just there to talk to when I get home from work.
24. I am grateful for this blog entry because right now I am seriously struggling to find something more to be grateful for as I have reached burn out point. But I will be thinking of some shortly.
25. I am grateful for being paid (and having a job to get paid for at all!) - and not feeling sorry for myself with R5 in my account - and now to actually manage my money properly.
26. I am grateful for beautiful scenery. I take the world around me for granted too often. A beautiful view over the sea and sand at Brass Bell in Kalk Bay reminded me of that.
27. I am grateful for the timelessness of family friendship. Cousins I haven't seen in months are just the same easy-to-chat-to-easy-to-jam-with-easy-to-enjoy as when we were little kids playing in Nannavon's garden.
28. I am grateful for such easy working hours. 8.30-4.30 really isn't a tough day to go through...although increased workload does mean longer hours...but I can always make up for it the next day and leave early :) (well that's what I tell myself!)
29. I am grateful for organisational skills (something I am learning anyway) to keep things on track on my desk! I've never used a diary so meticulously in my whole life!
30. I am grateful that are memories are entombed in our senses - and how a whiff of lavender as I walk around the block takes me back to my childhood home and picking pecan nuts off the ground under the tree,next to the lavender bush.

Awesome wedding idea

I recently attended a wedding where there was a photo studio set up with an enormous trunks of masks, hats and wigs.
It was a great way for guests to enjoy that awkward in-between stages after the first course and before speeches.
Definitely going to do this at my future hypothetical wedding!
Joey's Photography set it up - Contact details = info@joeysphotography.co.za or 083 282 2359 www.blog.joeysphotography.co.za
Take a look at the result:

Where the past and present meet

I recently visited Constitution Hill in Braamfontein and was struck by how easily it is to 'forget' the history of this country when we are so focused on the present and the daily grind of our lives.
So here's a little look at the highlights of the tour and a bit of information about what Constitution Hill is all about.

Constitution Hill is the site of Johannesburg's notorious Old Fort Prison Complex, commonly known as Number Four, "where thousands of ordinary people were brutally punished before the dawn of democracy in 1994," reads the tour brochure. Many of our political activists - Nelson Mandela, Mahatma Ghandi, Winnie Mandela and Barbara Hogan spent time there during the struggle years.
It is now home to the Constitutional Court - the protector of our basic rights and freedoms. A fitting place wouldn't you say?

Barbara Hogan, a political activist and now member of the current Government, was housed in the Women's Prison. Political prisoners were put together with criminals, although black and whites were obviously housed in separate cells.

Part of the wall in the Constitutional Court is made up from bricks from the demolished Awaiting Trial Block. The gaps between the bricks is said to allow the spirits of the past to be present as Constitutional rights are defended and upheld within the court.

Ex-prisoners were invited back to contribute to the process of remembering and reclaiming their dignity that they lost in Number Four. 

 

 

 

The Bill of Rights is portrayed at the entrance of the Constitutional Court, making use of all of the 11 official languages, as well as Sign Language and Braille.

Dear Fluffy

This is a letter to myself because I think my whinging has got out of hand.
I am seriously lacking any sense of gratitude, self-achievement or observation of the wonder around me that I think I could rightly be classified as a pessimist these days...or a serial whinger - and that's not the kind of person that I want to be around. So thank you to all the friends, family and Curly people that put up with me on a regular basis.
Of course, it's alright to have a bitch and a moan...SOMETIMES...but I need to stop making every conversation a session to complain about work, being tired, having no time for gym (kiff excuse) or other general grumbles.
I am therefore undertaking a new month's mission to write about something positive every single day. Judging by my claim of many posts in September, which didn't nearly happen' this is going to be a tough ask. But I have stuck a sticky note on my computer to remind me each day because seriously, positive thinking is how we all have to live our lives.
Imagine realising that your last conversation on this earth was a whinge.
A sobering thought.

A beautiful heart

Beautiful words from a beautiful friend that started my day...


A young man was standing in the middle of the town proclaiming that he had the most beautiful heart in the whole valley. A large crowd gathered and they all admired his heart for it was perfect. There was not a mark or a flaw in it.

But an old man appeared at the front of the crowd and said,
“Your heart is not nearly as beautiful as mine.”

The crowd and the young man looked at the old man’s heart. It was beating strongly but full of scars. It had places where pieces had been removed and other pieces put in … but they didn’t fit quite right and there were several jagged edges. The young man looked at the old man’s heart and laughed.
“You must be joking,” he said. “Compare your heart with mine … mine is perfect and yours is a mess of scars and tears.”

” “Yes,” said the old man, “Yours is perfect looking … but I would never trade with you. You see, every scar represents a person to whom I have given my love….. I tear out a piece of my heart and give it to them … and often they give me a piece of their heart which fits into the empty place in my heart but because the pieces aren’t exact, I have some rough edges.
“ Sometimes I have given pieces of my heart away … and the other person hasn’t returned a piece of his heart to me. These are the empty gouges … giving love is taking a chance. Although these gouges are painful, they stay open, reminding me of the love I have for these people too … and I hope someday they may return and fill the space I have waiting. So now do you see what true beauty is?”

The young man stood silently with tears running down his cheeks. He walked up to the old man, reached into his perfect young and beautiful heart, and ripped a piece out. He offered it to the old man.
The old man took his offering, placed it in his heart and then took a piece from his old scarred heart and placed it in the wound in the young man’s heart.
It fit …. but not perfectly, as there were some jagged edges.
The young man looked at his heart, not perfect anymore but more beautiful than ever, since love from the old man’s heart flowed into his.

What I am learning as Editor

1. Be assertive.
I can no longer rely on being told what to do (so much easier that way!). There's now not really anyone to tell me anyway - well other than the big boss but he just wants to talk about the trade.

2, Have an opinion and speak up.
Before, I tended to keep quiet or just go with what the boss's opinion was because I felt 'inferior' in my lack of knowledge to actually be entitled to one. Now I'm expected to have an opinion - meetings and other decision-making places.

3. Stick to my guns.
It used to be so frustrating to watch my boss always be convinced to change deadlines, allow late entrants and do basically do whatever the sales people wanted.
But I refuse to be their door mat. I set deadlines and expect them to be met and I speak to the salespeople directly if I have a problem.
If I have to write an entire magazine in a set time, they can jolly well get their ads in on time.

4. Confront.
I have always been terrible at confrontation and while I may not be good at it yet, I am learning. Case and point today, when I spoke to a salesperson about an issue I had and we agreed to a way forward.
I always find that email can be an effective way in getting my stern voice on.

5. Fill those shoes.
I am the editor. At 22. No pressure. That means that I have to step up to the plate and act like one. I need to be confident when meeting the bigwigs of the industry and have something useful to say.

** New challenge to myself - learn something new everyday about the trade and write it down so I remember it.

I'm gonna rock this magazine. BOOM.

Psycho weekend

I was a little psycho this weekend. And that's putting it mildy. Sitting in friends' parking lot (when they are not there) and bawling for no logical reason is not what I would call a normal Thursday night. And that was just the start of a long weekend that had me being slightly crazy / inappropriate and just plain dumb.

Friday was Heritage Day - you gotta love South Africa, making a public holiday for braaing. Anyway, so there are all us white English people standing around the braai; while the Chinese people in the complex play ping pong and an Indian dude walks in with his cricket kit (talk about stereotypes!).

And here comes the first moment of the day when my psycho tendancies emerge:
I'm busy telling delightful T, visiting from Cape Town, about my new digs and the fact that we have two live-in maids.
She asks if they are Malawian.
I give her a hugely weird look and say 'Why the hell would they be Malawian' (apparently there are lots of Malawians in Joburg it turns out)
And after she explains I say: "Oh, I didn't know. You may as well asked if they were from Nigeria or JAPANESE" (the ping pong ball bounces to a halt at this point.

Awkward. Everyone cans themselves laughing and I try redeem myself and keep talking.
And a few minutes later the ping pong ball rolls towards us (which it seemed to do the entire afternoon) and one of the Chinese dudes comes to pick it up and says 'Sorry'.
And out of absolute NOWHERE I say 'Thank you' (some subconscious way of apologising for earlier, but one that makes absolutely no sense and further compounds the previous incident).

So basically in three words I managed to make myself out to be racist, retarded and absolutely ridiculous.

a promise

I hereby promise to have at 5-10 blog posts by the end of September.

Tomato chicken risotto

Tomato Chicken Risotto

So here is a little culinary delight that I russled up last week [apologies for the lack of garnish or even pretty platter - but that's all my office kitchen provides].
I've been wanting to make a risotto for ages but have always been hesitant to give it a try, imagining a stodgy result.

So here's my first attempt at Tomato Chicken Risotto - a perfect end of the month meal.

Prep time: 10 minutes
Cooking time: 30 minutes
Serves: 2 (big portions, so I ate mine in 3)

Ingredients:
2 chicken breasts
4 Italian tomatoes, chopped (or can use tinned)
3 cups of chicken stock (using 1.5 cubes)
1.5 cups of broccoli (or any other veg you have lying around)
1 cup of brown basmati rice (obviously the pucker rice is preferred but budget constraints left me using whatever I had in the cupboard)
1 tsp crushed garlic
mixed herbs, salt and pepper
oil/butter to fry

Method:
Saute the garlic and add the tomatoes, frying slightly in a pan
Add chicken pieces and brown
Add rice to soak up tomato juices and slowly add the stock (taking care not to flood the pan by adding it all at once)
Add the broccoli and any herbs (fresh obviously better). I would not suggest adding salt as stock is quite salty already.
As the rice soaks up the stock, add more, and stir continuously
To hurry things up (tummy rumbling) I put a saucepan lid at an angle on top of the pan (to enhance the steaming process), stirring every few minutes.
I also added 2 tbs of chutney just to sweeten it up slightly but that's up to you
Once all the stock/juices has been soaked up and veggies are soft to your liking, serve in a bowl - which you can make pretty by adding some parsley on top.

Verdict:
Delicious (but slightly salty so would not add salt in future). Very easy to make and all in all, a good first attempt at risotto!

Exploding with happiness

I just love those days when you can't stop smiling.

In fact I want to squeal like a piglet in excitement.

Because things are just going my way today (please let me not get jinxed for saying this)

WiW (Weigh in Wednesday) showed some decent improvement - thanks to both good exercise, healthy eating choices and new tummy muti. 

Work was enjoyably productive as magazine design is FINALLY underway.

And best of all is that I have agreed to move in with 9 awesome people (so they seemed in interview) in a massive mansion (right by my gym!) in a great room (with porn mirrors on ceiling?!) where I will be catered for by a cook four days a week.

Hello digs life, new friends, new fun and happiness.

And only three sleeps til I see Curly. Yay.

That is all. 

Note: This blog will occasionally be used for such diary-like entries. Because it's my blog and I can.

Maybe I'm just different

I was recently asked the question: "When am I going overseas to find myself?".

And I was hesitant to reply because my answer is very different to most other 20-somethings.

Because I don't want to work on the ski slopes in Vale or teach English in Korea or work on a yacht in the Med - I have actually never wanted to, and whene friends and cousins raged about their experiences, I really wasn't too jealous.

What's wrong with me you may be wondering - there must be someone or something holding me back.

Nope.

It's not that I don't want to go to Vale or Korea or Med - not at all - it's just that I want to experience the world differently. In small chunks. On holiday.

"Yes but then you don't get the true experience of the country/culture/people" you might argue.

That may be so but I think I'll be content with the tit bit that I do get to experience.

"But still, you need to find yourself" you may insist.

Since Std 9 I knew I wanted to be a journalist and I wanted to be a journalist in South Africa (and hopefully even be sent to different places for my job as an investigative reporter).

So I didn't need to go on a gap year, spending my parents' money while I decided what direction I wanted to go. Maybe I should have gone anyway (I no doubt missed out on some important life experiences) but I was too eager to get to varsity and start studying to be a journalist.

And then after that (another opportune gap year time) I was just too eager to get started in the real world as a journalist.

Maybe you think this makes me narrow-minded and that I'll regret these choices later in life.

But I don't think I will and I'm saving up to start ticking off my travel wish list - Thailand, Russia, Italy and South America to name a few - visits that I hope to share with Curly, friends and family.

But I didn't say all this to mom's cousin's wife who asked me that first question but left it short and sweet:

"I've found myself in Joburg, thank you very much"

Boredom shmoredom

My mom always used to say that only boring people get bored.
I realised today - as I wait for the designer to design some pages for me to edit and people to get back to me about future features - that I could be one of these people.
I have therefore set out to prove to myself that I am not in fact a boring person and think about what I do or could to to fill up my time - at least until I can get to gym and get on that treadmill for my planned 50 minute run (I can't wait).
And that actually brings me to proof *1 - I exercise.
A month ago (let alone a year ago) I would never have thought that I'd be looking forward to or even be able to run for 50 minutes on a treadmill.
Back in first year at Rhodes I hit the inevitable first year spread, caused by too much drinking, too little exercise and res food. Anyway, second year was a year for change for me - changed res, started eating breakfast (who would have thought I could survive a whole day without that extra 45 minutes of sleep) and going to gym daily. It took me a while to get used to doing things on my own because a previous gym partner wasn't too dedicated and I realised if I was serious I'd have to do this on my own.
Anyway long story short - my life had a total revamp leading to happier me (boosted greatly by the entering of a certain curly-haired male into my life).

Well three years later I think I hit real life first year spread after moving up to the big city. The combination of 2 hour commutes, sitting at a desk and eating easy meals (hello pasta) and too many take outs on the weekend (living a block from McDonalds is tough ok!) and 4 kgs later I realised this had to end.

And so begins life revamp*2
This has involved a new way of thinking - no more diet but a lifestyle change and a gym membership (which, being paid for my me meant that I had to get my money's worth).
I think the most difficult part has been the weekends - which is when I'm most likely to relax on the exercise front (having gone all week to gym) and more lenient on the food choices, fueled by the worst kind of fuel - alcohol.
The other big factor is my curly-haired boy (who is not too into exercise and very much into KFC)
Having to be accountable to myself and others (have a weekly weigh-in on a Wednesday with my cousin on same journey)
So I have become a lot more vegetarian during the week (who would have known lentils could taste so good)
And my goal for every weekend is not to sabotage myself - which I'm largely succeeding in (I think) and have really got Curly used to long romantic strolls and eating healthy wholesome meals (turns out they cheaper too!)

So this post was supposed to be about why I'm not boring but all I've talked about is my weightloss journey (which is still far off target) but not bothering me much at all coz clothes are looser and its nearly time for my first 10km race :)

more about ways to keep me busy soon...

A world apart

Muizenberg, Cape Town, 14 August 2010

My trip to Cape Town last weekend was an amazingly eye-opening and interesting experience.
It started off with me getting slightly tipsy at the bar at the airport...alone. I felt empowered and invigorated being a 'young professional' (apparently that's how you define people my age who have a job and live in a city) sipping on my Savannah.
As much as I tried not to, I slept on the plane - it's just something with moving vehicles and me - and probably added to by my Savannnah lullaby.
Anyway, I revived myself with an energy drink while waiting for my luggage (had to be ready for a CT jol specially as it was Friday night!).
I got the giggles staring at a metal tool box going round and round the conveyor belt and watching everyone notice and stare at it, waiting to see who would own up to owning it.

I was met by my brother with a sign (he thought he was funny) and we then packed my bags into The Mayor. This car was passed down from me, who received it after 12 years from my mom. He 'pimped' it out with racks on top for his surf board...dude.
It wouldn't start. It was 23.45 on a Friday night and we were going to have to jam at the airport. Two kind men helped push start it and I looked hilarious running behind the car.

And so my Cape Town Adventure begins....

Long Street was a great night out. I must admit that I'd thought it was a fancy place that called for heels but turns out its like Melville, and is very chilled out. Bit freaked out by Nigerians offering weed at every street corner. And was very surprised by eclectic mix in Dubliner. I guess my Rhodes night life and limited mainstream jolling in Joburg has had me socialising in a very limited crowd of people (who are generally all like me). So it was really great being in such a multicultural atmosphere and I even started warming up to the Nigerians...until dear Remy got asked to be a drug pusher!

Saturday was probably my favourite part of my entire trip because it involved the beautiful mountain, bonding with my bro and a burger :) (Captured in above pic)


But before I leave this trip I have to make a few observations:
1. (The most important) No shop sells alcohol after 5pm on a Saturday or on a Sunday?!?!?!?! What's up with that! When I was barred from purchasing the necessary fermented grape drink from the local Pick n Pay, I asked in absolute wonder: But what if I want to drink at 6pm! [so one up to Gauteng for that one]
2. Everyone is uber chilled: Brother just didn't lock the car doors and had his window wound right down (i was freaking out big time, scanning each robot for potential highjackers)
3. Cape Town is beautiful. No question the most beautiful city in the country. But I would want to visit that beauty for holidays every now and then and stick to the 'Big Smoke' for real life. But that's just me

The rest of the weekend followed in a blur of friends, family and food and I got on the plane on Monday evening happily exhausted.

And I must admit (and this surprised me too) but I was honestly excited to see the lights of Joburg sparkling down below and really felt that I was back home.

This damn strike

“Burning tyres, barricaded gates and doctors crawling underneath barbed wire fences - that's how day three of the public sector strike unfolded at the Helen Joseph hospital on Friday morning.”

“The National Education, Health and Allied Workers’ Union said patients facing life and death situations must “negotiate” with strikers about crossing hospital picket lines.”

“Three pupils from Bernadino Heights High School in Kraaifontein, north of Cape Town, needed urgent medical attention after a mob of about 300 striking teachers descended on their classes.”

“A 21-year-old man, who needed emergency surgery after his hand had been chopped off, was turned away by two state hospitals due to a public service strike, says paramedics.”

“A ward assistant said that there was no kitchen staff on duty so patients could not be given porridge in the morning."There was no one to make porridge this morning so we could only give the patients bread and tea for breakfast."”

“As 53 critically ill babies were left to starve by striking nurses, and as more than 10 adults died at an abandoned Gauteng hospital, private clinics and military medics yesterday came to the rescue of the country's crippled health system.”

This public strike is making me absolutely furious!

Yes, it is your right to strike but as President Zuma noted yesterday, you have absolutely no right to do it violently – putting others in danger.

One amazing brightspark said on the news last night that “they must find the money, even if they have to borrow from Zimbabwe”. Seriously?! If the government gives in to the demands, there will be serious repercussions in this country, and if they don’t, the consequences are scary.

Do they not realise that to pay these salaries, they are going to have to take funds from the actual public sector.

And just wait, the next strike will be about lack of equipment.

And those ‘others’ are the most vulnerable in our society – patients in hospitals (if they weren’t turned away), who can’t even get porridge in the morning, let alone medical care.

School children – the future of this country – who are literally being denied their education because their schools are closed. I fear this year’s matric results will be worse than any other year as they have already been disadvantaged by the long holiday during the World Cup and now they must do preparation on their own as their teachers toi-toi and picket.

That being said, there are brave doctors, nurses and teachers who continue to do their job despite intimidation and threats from their colleagues. My friend, Kate, a nurse at Steve Biko Hospital in Pretoria is going to work in plain clothes, and is relieved to be working night duty because at least she is missing the most of the strikers. She is paid just as badly and yet she is still going to work? What makes her different from her toi-toing colleague? They studied the same, do the same job and are both equally dependent on their paycheck to survive (no hand outs from a rich daddy for Kate). And yet she would probably climb under barbed wire to get to her patients that need her. 

The difference is this: passion and dedication. From her passion, she is dedicated to do her job no matter what.

I hope that I too will have the same passion for truth to keep doing my job as a journalist no matter what. And I fear that day is sooner than we think with the Protection of Information Act and talk about a Media Tribunal.

A glimpse into another world

Seasons Wither, Jet, 30 May 2010

The consequences of jolling at Johnny's

 This is how my weekend started:

Friday night, head off to Johnny's for an afrikaans jam with about 10 of J's mates who had already arrived.

Note 1: Johnny's is in Glencoe (a town five min outside Dundee) which us Dundonians refer to as the trailor park of Dundee

Note 2: the ATM outside the 'club' has like a garage door in front of it, preventing anyone from using it. Why? you might ask...well i settled everyone down in front of it to explain - there have been too many ATM bombings in Glencoe so they are now all closed off at night.

 

K anyway, so J had hired a taxi (like a real taxi) to fetch us and drop us off etc, James and I were in the front and were dropped off down the road to my house (the rest were going to the farm). we took about half an hour to walk the 500m, stumbling, swaying and stopping for breaks on the grass. eventually get to house, think remote doesnt open gate and go round to back door which is also locke.d then discover garage does open and off to bed we go (me in my mom's room and james in j's room) i did have a few spoonfuls of cold soup that were left from mom and gran's supper (just what you feel like after a night out)

 

next morning have many errands to run - driving farmer's bakkies, fetching millions of mattreses, decorating tent etc. anyway. i couldn't find my purse - stress! phone standard bank to see if any activity on my cards (none), get hold of taxi man (he doesn't see anything) and i keep stressing. look at home again, nothing. so big stress....it must have dropped out when we stepped out of of taxi and some delightful person has a nice new guess wallet.

 

so i cancel all my cards (please bear in mind that i have spent at least 5 hours in the last 2 weeks getting new accounts, fetching cards, going back to change limits etc). also go to police department to report wallet lost.

sadness

 

then i go home on sunday and front door locked again so i go round back (suddenly a sense of dejavu descends on me).

BOOM. a pretty guess wallet lying on the path!

The true supporter

Besides the matches, the foreigners and the excitement that has completely gripped our country, the national pride and unity is the greatest part of the 2010 World Cup.

Everyone, from the president of the country to the lady that cleans and sweeps for a living (pictured left) is feeling the gees and has welcomed the world with open arms. And so what that Bafana is the first host nation to be knocked out in the first round...they still whipped the asses of the frogs...and the whole nation remains proud of our national team. 

Jonathan Jansen recently wrote a column on the seven reasons why the World Cup has been a success in South Africa. And the most important reason of them all is that this has been so much more than football for South Africans. It's about an opportunity for the entire country to get together and showcase our diversity of culture, language, food and scenery - plus the vuvuzelas - to the world.

And with just a few days left of the football spectacle, we have certainly succeeded.

 

Maid in the RSA

Yesterday morning I decided to forego my usual gym workout and embrace domesticity. This decision was not motivated by plans on becoming a housewife any time soon but by the fact that our newly hired maid, Viola, had disappeared.
My housemate, Miranda, and I don't have the best of luck with maids it seems. The last one smoked like a chimney, had the most unpractical and interrupting cleaning schedule (a bit of bathroom, a touch of washing up and a sprinkling of ironing throughout the day, in between her 2 boxes of cigarettes). Needless to say, she complained about us to her other employer (Miranda's boyfriend's mother) calling us disgustingly messy and said there were strange men walking in and out of the flat all the time. The only men - who might appear a bit strange to people until they get to know them - are my boyfriend and a friend who slept on the couch once. So anyway, Miranda very nicely told her that because I'm 'moving in with my boyfriend', she couldn't afford her. And the transaction was complete, with even a 'God Bless' from Alice.

So now, Maid Number 2. She's the girlfriend of the handyman of the complex so figured she was a safe bet. Until the night before her first day when Gift (her boyfriend) rang my doorbell and informed me that she had disappeared. He'd heard that she had family in Midrand but otherwise she had just taken some of his things and upped and left on Monday. I was so disturbed by this relationship crumble and really appreciated his honesty and courtesy of coming to tell me.

So, I cleaned the kitchen from top to toe, did the washing, scoured the bathroom and was just about finished with the dishes when the doorbell rings.
Enter Viola, our new maid (who had simply had a fight with Gift and gone off in a huff), here to clean the kitchen from top to toe, do the washing, scour the bathroom and wash the dishes....again.

Slow Ass Revenue Sucker

I had to go to SARS today to register as a taxpayer.

I figured 11.30 was a good time to make my way to the Randburg office as I'd be skipping the lunchtime queues. Well I'd hate to see what lunch time is like there at that place.

The metal detector beeped as I stepped through, but after being met with a blank gaze from the security guards I made my way to the back of the queue. I even went back to check with the guard that this was the right queue for ME. "Yes, wait in the line". There were about thirty people in front of me slowly edging towards the reception desk like a gentle wave of grumpiness. At least they could have had some music to lighten the deathly mood, where everyone looks around at everyone else secretly wondering which idiots had forgotten one of their vital documents and would be told to go home when they reached the front.

ID copy check, bank statements check, payslip check, completed forms check.

It is at this point that I have to wonder about the logic of the South African Revenue Service.

Why is there only one man standing behind that counter!! Clearly the saying 'many hands make light work' is not discussed at their staff meetings.

And then there's the double queuing problem - some people doing filing or whatever get to the desk only to be given a ticket and told to wait in line in another one deeper inside the tax guzzling beast. Sucks to be you!

So I finally got to the front, expecting to be told I've forgotten this or that (which regularly happens on my bank visits). I'm greeted by a cheerful smile, called by my name (great personal touch) and sent merrily along my way. 

Maybe its not such a Slow Ass Revenue Sucker after all. Well we'll wait and see when I actually get my tax number. 

Peacock pride

The Peacock 


What's riches to him
That has made a great peacock
With the pride of his eye?
The wind-beaten, stone-grey,
And desolate Three Rock
Would nourish his whim.
Live he or die
Amid wet rocks and heather,
His ghost will be gay
Adding feather to feather
For the pride of his eye. 

William Butler Yeats 

Pic: me

Awkward elevator moments

 Everyone who has ever lived in a complex has endured one of those awkward elevator moments...you know when you press the button for ground and look forward to a minute or two of vacuumed time and space - with no phones beeping, or computers whirring and in my case, not even classical elevator music to distract me from my thoughts.

Last night I had a particularly awkward experience as I travelled down the lift after the World Cup match between Germany and England (where those pommies got absolutely thumped - ha! regardless of that bad ref decision with the disallowed goal Paul Ince!).

I entered the usually quiet confines of the elevator with a silver-haired lady (complex note 1: I basically live in an old age home judging by the average of my co-inhabitants > 60 plus). Turns out she's the daughter of my neighbour so he really must be ancient (definitely alive in the first and second World Wars I swear!).

So we both push the G button, and I pray that this elevator accelerates down the five floors.

The World Cup is a conversation starter at the the best of times in this country, and if you know just a little bit about the teams (no football knowledge necessarily required) and own a shirt for Football Friday, things don't generally go wrong. You can always just blame the ref.

Granny: "So, did you watch the soccer?"

Me: "Yes, it was a hectic game hey"

And that would have been sufficient. The last minute of our journey could now be enjoyed in pleasant silence after the ice had been broken. But I seem to attract awkward situations wherever I go.

Me: "So, which team were you supporting?"

Granny: Um...England...well I have their flag on my car but my father is devastated"

Now that seems like a fairly ok neutral response right?

Complex fact 2: Everyone in my complex is Jewish. 

Joburg way up high

Gold Reef City, Johannesburg 27 June 2010
From my vantage point at the top of the ferris wheel, the city spreads out below me like a tapestry. The red, green, brown and grey bumps of buildings, houses and trees stretches into the horizon as far as I can see. East, West, Joburg is best. 


Moving to the big city of Johannesburg at the beginning of this year was a career-driven decision as I wanted to make my mark on the South African media landscape. But I never really thought I'd find my place in this fast-paced, 'crime-infested' concrete jungle.


However, I've discovered that the city offers a kaleidoscope of people, places and new experiences and I am loving being able to explore all that it has to offer! And about all that concrete? Turns out Joburg is reputed to be the world's largest urban forest!