The Day I Met *Frank

The day I met *Frank

This is one of the most unforgettable memories I will ever have. I have had this compulsion to share it for a while now. Purely selfish reasons I might add– I want to know that it was real. It did occur. It was real.

I was with a couple of  my colleagues who also happened to be my pals. We were sitting on the grass on a wine estate in Franschoek for a music festival. The air was beautiful, almost silky. The sunset that evening was breath taking. If it were an ointment it would cure heartache & suffering. That stunning.

We were getting ready to go backstage to do some interviews with some of the bands performing that night. Given this fact I could not consume any (or much) alcohol.

As we were sitting down something captured my attention. Like a kid I was drawn to the balls of light that were mesmerizing the crowd. I stood up and waited barely patiently for a turn to play with them.

The girl who tried it before me looked like she knew what she was doing. I was nervous. But more excited than anything.

I took them and went wild. It was definitely as fun as it looked.

A few meters away, I had unwittingly gained some fans. This made me more nervous and, naturally, I started making mistakes. It was still fun. I wanted to clutch on to them forever. But life awaited.

The first words I heard as I gave up the balls was “Wow, you captivated me”… I stood, flattered and flustered.

I confessed my lack of experience, but they didn’t buy it. An even bigger smile appears within.

After a lot of back & forth I decide to sit down and join the pair on the grass.

*Frank & *Tim. Our other friends joined us and we all had a delicious array of conversations in all directions between the 6 of us. With the music plaguing the air. It was like a dream.

I decided I wanted to blow some bubbles (for some strange reason there was a stand where you could do this at no cost) - One of my other strange inner-kid compulsions.

*Frank came with me.

As many of my friends would involuntarily know – I have a weak bladder. So I asked *Frank NOT to come with me as I disappeared behind the bushes to do the embarrassing.

*Frank comes along.

I squat & experience the much needed relief.

When I’m done *Frank does the same. He goes ahead and pees. Okay then.

I see a tree trunk that’s begging to be climbed. I throw off my (favourite) golden sandals & begin the ascend up the tree.

*Frank follows.

It all feels like a big chunk of a dream. The music, the sequence of events, the level of comfortableness we feel with each other, being in that tree with the feint sound of the river nearby. How did I land up here?

We talk about all kinds of things, and then the inevitable happens. His lips approach mine and then collide into a harmonious kiss. Thank God I was sitting down.

A few minutes later & I’m feeling I need to get back before Goldfish begin their performance. I’m at work you know.

He climbs off the tree before I do. Just to make sure I’ll be fine. How gallant!

I am clumsy – I need to prepare you for what happens next.

After numerous reassurances from him. I launch into a kind of semi-jump action.

THUD! Straight into the ground, into a bunch of leaves. He comes straight after me to make sure I’m okay. Pecks me all over and we laugh out loud. I fell. Typical. Can’t I be smooth for once in my life?

We go and sit on some rocks in the river stream and continue with the dreamy interaction. Time is ticking & I need to get back & I do.

We exchange numbers and promise to see each other when we get back to Cape Town.

We see each other one more time after an undeniable connection leads us to the river for one more peck on the lips.

I don’t see him again after parting ways with him at the river. All I hold, all he holds is a 10 digit number and the memory…

* Names have been changed.

An unbeatable combo!

This clip successfully glues together my 3 great loves:

• Soul Moving Music
  

• Dancing Like No One is watching
  

• Exploring Odd Crevices Of The World

Grab a cuppa & enjoy :)

Who says White people can't dance?

I desperately enjoyed this the first time I laid my eyes upon it (how dramatic I can be...)

Sure she might have sped it up a little and tweaked a few things.
 Its still pretty cool :)

Enjoy!

Is Chivalry Dead?

Is Chivalry dead?

This comes after many discussions turned arguments between my friends & I regarding this topic.

It’s taken me ages to write this. My mind has changed so many times about whether or not it indeed is dead. I’ve been having an assortment of experiences that will pull me in different directions each time.

When I first started writing this, I was on a flight back to the mother city on Kulula and as with all Kulula flights, some sort of entertaining commentary accompanies the journey. This time the flight attendant asked us to introduce ourselves to the person beside us. Chatterbox me was reluctant & was actually contemplating ignoring his instructions.

“My name is Dougal”, shot into my left ear. Now, I had to play along. But it was less uninviting as it was before. I also introduced myself to Jani, the young lady to my right (who sat on the most envied seat of the 3 – the window seat) we proceeded to have some surface chit chat and then it evolved into full on conversation about all kinds of things – including astrology: on my list of favourite things. I opened my bag of tricks on the subject and let them read what it said about each of their signs. They were both quite fascinated by the truth the summary held. Even Dougal the sceptic was quite intrigued.

Now as I typed the title to this piece of writing (at the time it was “Chivalry is dead, rightly so?”), Dougal was about to fall asleep. He tapped me while I typed the first few sentences and asked me. “Is it really dead?” I had to stop and think. I myself didn’t have the answer. He believes it isn’t because he still practices it. On his (I think its safe to say) lucky girlfriend.

I didn’t finish writing this at that time because we got plunged into fat, phat conversation and so I had to suspend my idea of writing this piece. Here I am again in the sky, Joburg bound and dabbling with the same subject.

I think I have come to a conclusion (not much of one clearly) that chivalry does exist. It is very alive and very well. It creeps up on you when you least expect it. So it’s rather rare and maybe woman are to blame for that? That is debatable & I don’t have much to go on to challenge those who disagree with the statement that womankind have brought it upon themselves.

Nonetheless, if you’re female and you’re after that gallant man, good luck finding him – but not all hope is lost. They are out there. I promise.

And those of you we call men, if chivalry is your thing do it, if its not, try it and if it doesn’t tickle your fancy for the right reasons, then leave it behind & be comfortable in your skin. There are women who don’t expect every door to be opened.

I’m not sure I’m one of them though. I’m still finding out.

The Occasional Loneliness I Feel Is Worth The Personal Growth It Awards...

One thing I can always be thankful that I have learnt from being single is that I know I can be alone. 

 

It is an option.

I don’t need to be someone’s other half in order to be (or feel) whole.

I am whole. Already.

You too are whole. You don’t need me to reach completion.

Personal space is something that plays a pivotal role in the success rate of a relationship. You need to remember that I am me & you are you & there are things that I love & ; enjoy that you don’t. 

There too are things you love & enjoy that I despise.

But you are you and I am me.

We don’t need each other. We want each other. 

Realise the distinction.

I have my faults and I have a right to have them. They are there for a reason.

You have faults and I have a right to feel like they drive me to the brink of madness itself. But they are yours, an undeniable part of your making & they are there for a reason.

Single-hood has taught me so much about myself. Things about myself were uncovered that I myself had never ever thought were there. Ugly things. Ones I would like to, quietly, shove under the proverbial carpet. And; some phenomenal traits that I want to boast. 

I got more than I had bargained for when I took on this path of self-searching & ; discovery.

My journey is by no means over. Utter happiness in a loving relationship is a reality. But for now, until I’m ready to dive, I’m happy on this little pathway. 

Until further notice...

Playing hard to get is Foolish

So (as with many of my recent posts) this is inspired by countless conversations with the lovely miss Sara P.

Why do we play hard to get?

Take a moment (or preferably longer) to think about your answer to that question.

Surely if you like someone, even slightly, you would want them to know that. Surely?

You would act in such a way as to make it clear that you feel that way.

We are not children playing in a sand pit on some playground somewhere where we are unable to express ourselves clearly enough and so we end up kicking the girl we love – or your innocent understanding of it at least- in the shin. Or push her straight into the sand pit.

We are fortunate enough to have collected enough information & experiences to get our emotional awareness to a level mature enough to be able to express, clearly, how we feel.

So why then do we deliberately not reply to that text requesting a meeting of some sort? When we know we would love to.

Why then do we not offer to take that someone for a drink or better yet; dinner? When we are dying to extend that offer.

Why then do we not tell that someone that they are beautiful, when we think that they look that way? Nobody would reject such flattery, especially if genuinely heartfelt.

Why settle for second best when we can get first prize? Because we can. It is an option.

There comes a time when every boy must throw out the sand pit and start building a foundation for something more worthy of their time, potential to love and pro-create.

Not necessarily with the intention solely to produce offspring. It’s not for everyone. Granted. But that closeness for a person you feel so strongly for is desirable at some point. Even if only for a season. Indefinitely. Or definitely. Whichever.

Playing hard to get plays into the fakeness that the world has come to accept. It’s not acceptable.

It’s a chip that aids the ever-evident decay of the soul and humanity as a whole.

Playing hard to get is seriously over-rated and ; I’m confident to say; foolish.

Simply foolish.

Why do we so inherently feel the need to have what we can’t get? Or relish that position of being what others (although you feel for them) can not obtain.

What is so attractive about that person who won’t return your calls? There is one out there who would gladly embrace them.

There remain many unanswered questions, but for me, right now: Playing hard to get is not an option. It does cross my mind ever so often but each time I think of the missed connections endured in our time on this journey. It’s simply not worth it.

Plain and simple.

I Didintle Sholohelang Ntsie, vow to be as truthful as I can be about my feelings towards others when those feelings are beautiful & true.

So what if I get rejected? Rejection is an undeniable & unavoidable part of life. Playing hard to get makes it even more complex than it really needs to be.

You, and you alone, know what and who you want.

Don’t deny yourself that sweetness.

The Browmwell : Its role in the gap between the have's and the have nots

I visited a place called “The Bromwell” over the weekend.

I will take some time to describe what it is and the interior of the venue.

“The Bromwell” boutique mall is a number of things:

• A Boulangerie called “Bread”, which -from my understanding- is a bakery: this one boasts efficiency that ensures that no item on the shelf is older than 2 hours old (the standard period of time is 8 hours I’m told)

• A deli, which sells exclusive high-end treats ranging from coffee flavoured fudge to tasty jams & cold meats.

• A café that sells delicious eats, cocktails & hot beverages.

• And the main attraction - a range of carefully arranged concept rooms that contain once offs created solely for this place. Gold framed mirrors, statues, jewelry, furniture, sculptures, paintings & clothing.

Opulence not very often stumbled upon.

Patrons receive a “Privilege card” which enables them to view the prices of the items on sale. The cards are inserted into a slot linked to a high tech wireless system that is touch screen operated.

When you enter this place, a man wearing a top hat and a black tuxedo greets you, outside the establishment. The treatment, if you are not accustomed to it, pushes you to the very verge of uncomfortableness.

The elite hang out spot is situated in the heart of Woodstock, Albert road to be exact.

Local mini-bus taxis constantly screeching past & honking. Across the street families reside. In houses that have existed in the fore-mentioned families for generations & generations. The population of Woodstock is infamous for alcohol abuse, poverty, substance abuse, drug trade, teenage pregnancy & gang violence.

The people of this place are nowhere near the income bracket that the Bromwell serves and aims to please.

Given the history of Woodstock and how it came about, is it fair to have an establishment as lavish as the one I speak of in this place that very obviously does not serve the community it has invaded? Is it right?

Fast forward to 2015: the families that live in the houses situated in Woodstock, particularly on streets, with growing popularity, such as Albert road are going to be bought out & shoved aside for the purpose of economic benefit & stimulation.

They might be restored and kept in their original form but the people who it truly and rightfully belongs to will be nowhere in sight.

Places like the Bromwell push the gap between the rich and the poor wider, faster, with reckless abandon.

South Africa officially has the widest gap between the rich and the poor. That is quite an achievement. What are we doing to undo that embarrassing, sad & painfully hard, harsh reality?

There should be a legal body that is erected specifically for the purpose of protecting and defending whole communities that are being excluded from the goings ons in their community.

The residents should benefit in some way or form from all the shenanigans that take place. They should be part of the plan. They should reap the rewards that are employment, royalties or simply the right to decide who can come and take a spot in their community.

We as a nation need to bring operations like this a screeching halt. The alternative - to watch the gap widen and worsen. And to let more and more starve and suffer while others have more than they could ever need in one lifetime.

Which side of the line do you stand on?

Avatar (3D) makes my life feel so tame

Original Post Monday, January 11, 2010 at 11:01am

So my amazing sister got some free tickets for any movie at a Ster Kinekor cinema; we couldn’t go while she was here so she left them for me. Sweet deal.

I asked Miss Sara P to join me.

We went and we loved it.

I’m going to give you a few options to substitute that annoyingly badly written and barely expressive sentence right there; simply because “We loved it” doesn’t do the actual emotion we felt any justice at all.

We had overwhelmingly Deep affection for it, we were totally besotted with it, we were enthralled by it, we were absolutely absorbed by it, we had an insatiable appetite for more. In short it was fantastic and we came close to worshipping the director.

Not only were the graphics and special effects out of this world (literally). It was a beautifully woven story. So delicately and well put together.

So very relevant.

The message was powerful beyond measure.

That we destroy priceless natural beauty & existence of any kind for a cheap man made commodity. Money.

It’s embarrassingly disgusting that those men & women who were all for the killing of tribes for the “precious stone” that would earn someone uncountable amounts of money are us. Us. We are those people.

Our population worships money, so much so, that we will push anything out of the way to obtain it. To clutch it only to inevitably let it go.

We apparently need it for survival. Funny that. A time existed when there was no money - only vast stretches of untouched land, fruit in abundance, vegetables for Africa, livestock, pure uncontaminated water & whatever form of shelter. And so you’re trying to tell me that a piece of paper with some supposedly important print on it with a pre-determined imaginary value is a worthy substitute?

Surely not?
Definitely not.

I came across this quote at the beginning of the year. It sums up what I’m getting at here:

`Only when the last tree has died & the last river has been poisoned & the last fish has been caught will we realise that we can not eat money.` 19th Century Cree India

Image found here

The man on the train

Original Post: Thursday, January 7, 2010 at 2:51pm

I met a man on the train today (maybe met is the incorrect word to use, came across is more like it). I’ll call him Willem.

He had hazy green eyes, was around his early to late 40’s and looked like he was really one of those charming handsome men in his time.

I almost sat next to him, but the sun was on that side of the train and I had been walking so I didn’t feel like roasting further and feeling even stickier when I got to work. So I sat opposite him. As we waited for the train to pull off, he began mumbling. At first I couldn’t quite catch what he was saying. Then I caught “Ek verander waneer die wereld verander” that (according to my slighted inner Afrikaans-speaking voice) means “I change when the world changes” or “I change along with the world”.

He went on to mumble some other inaudible and (I think its safe to say) nonsensically charged waffle.

He planted a thought in my mind. Life can slip through our fingers slowly.
Not necessarily quickly.

Willem probably made a few wrong turns, a couple of wrong decisions. Maybe he decided to experiment with drugs, or maybe when he was younger he saw them as “recreational” (they sure as hell are – they recreate your mind, personality, reasoning ability, brain function & entire life there after), maybe he fought with someone at home and never came back, he could have swallowed his pride & returned to make amends. Who knows what went wrong?

Willem did not smell like alcohol at all. He wasn’t drunk nor tipsy. We made eye contact several times and when he saw me kind of paying attention to his ramblings. He stared right back & directed his words to me.

A part of me wishes I could tap into what he was saying. The part I caught earlier seemed rather profound given his state.

He got up and disembarked at the same station as me. He had a small bottle of water to hydrate him in this heat I guess. Quite sensible.

There are choices each day, opportunities each day, crystal clear good & even more shiny clear bad decisions, good people we take for granted, horrible energy suckers we latch onto for Lord knows what.

We have (hopefully) a fairly long life to lead. Take care of your soul & nourish it the way you know is best for you.

Don’t be that man on the train - Aging, alone & seemingly senile.