My friends are my real family

I have only recently realized something. Not greatly profound, but something that has been whispering at the back of my head and suddenly started shouting because I have not been paying attention. I try really hard to fit in sometimes, wanting people to like me and accept me the way I am. I am unique, just like everyone else is, which means that we are all special and because of this none of us are. Yeah well, I lost myself there too.

I am probably difficult to place because of my interests. They vary from Star Trek to out of sync martial arts movies, you know those ones where the lips move and the words come afterward? My music tastes range from Elvis to Queen to DKM and CCR. I like many different things that have nothing to do with each other. My clothing depicts this as well. I can leave the house looking like a runway model, a business exec or a surfer chick, it really depends on my mood. I don’t have something that I can say truly defines me. I love swords, and know what Damascus steel is, but in contrast I can tell you about the warp 5 engine in the Enterprise NX01. I can get annoyed by how technology controls us and wish to break away, but I can love computers and tv and hot water. I love all these things and it works for me.

This doesn’t mean that you have to like me or accept me as I am. If your life is lived with structure and aligned interests, or if you have opposing interests and a complex balance between opposites, whatever works for you is after all the best for you.

I can’t fit in everywhere and it would be foolish to try. I have a place that is mine, a home with my real family. I was told once that you get to choose your friends, but you are stuck with your family. Well, I have made my friends my family, because I wish to be stuck with them. The best part is, they feel the same. I was sick as a dog, but my presence was missed and my friends came over to fetch me. I spent most of the night sleeping on a friend’s bed, and that was okay.

With my family I get to be the trekkie that likes rugby, I can talk religion with Christians and still be pagan, I can sing along to Queen and dance to Lady Gaga and Pink. I can vote with the boys on movie night and watch girly movies on girls nights. It’s okay for me to be different there because my being different is what defines me. I am not building a one picture puzzle, I am living a collage.

 

Gravy Train

Proudly South African; yes I am. We have so much to offer the world. Despite this fact I promised myself that every blog will not be based on SA pride, and yet, here we are! I have just received another email with goods for sale. Truly South African entrepreneurship!
You can barely open an email these days without a picture of some new item for sale, all based on the Soccer World Cup. From arm warmers to car mirror socks, from corporate sponsored Soccer support jerseys to pens, teddy bears, key chains, limited edition pendants and so much more. I have to admit, as cute as Zakumi is, my favourite has to be the arm warmers. They are practical, reusable, and utterly adorable (err, in a really practical, manly sense – sorry boys!)
You have to hand it to my countrymen, they know how to make a quick buck! I am utterly astonished at their ingenuity, creativity and sometimes, pure desperation. Unfortunately some unwise investors have already lost large amounts of money, hoping for a ride on the latest gravy train. There hasn’t been such scrambling since the 1885 Gold Rush!
I have spoken to so many people that are planning something or another, renting out a room in their house, renting out a granny flat, making bracelets out of South African shells, gemstones, beads etc. I must say, I never realized my countrymen could be so enterprising! Or should I say, exploitative. To quote a phrase from Star Trek, Exploitation begins at home. Well readers, our people are far cleverer than anyone gives them credit for!
I for one can’t wait to buy a decent pair of SA arm warmers (for those cold days you know!) Just imagine; now, that skimpy top is a go! The best part is that we get to keep these arm warmers for every sport! They’ll go really nicely with a Springbok t-shirt, don’t you think?

 

Stiff Competition

Having lived for a quarter century plus has certain advantages. One: You still occasionally believe you are always right. Two: The world is out to get you, not the other way round. Three: Having your opinion be respected is really important. Now this may not seem advantageous, but let me tell you…
If you believe you are always right, you automatically create the second advantage: being a victim. That’s so much easier isn’t it? If you’re a victim, then you really are powerless to change anything. If you are afraid your opinion will be shot down, you can always keep your mouth shut and the cycle starts all over again. You don’t have to be proved wrong after all because you never open your mouth to begin with. Ah, to lie to your self is really convenient.
Well, however long this current insight will last, I guess I should share this with someone, before I completely chicken out! I do not like sharing opinions in general as I, like so many other closet case opinion rookies, really can’t stand criticism. Strange, as I have had so much experience with criticism! Oh wait… that’s why!
It’s easy to lie to yourself and say that you don’t care about another person’s opinion, but at the end of the day, that’s why you’re keeping your mouth shut, isn’t it? I read somewhere, many years ago, that diplomacy is the skill to send someone to hell in such a way that they actually look forward to the trip. I never believed this, but reevaluation really is a bitch, or at the very least; a very unpleasant cat that sneaks into your house to steal your cat’s food and urinate on your curtains.
I was reading several comments of friends and acquaintances on Facebook regarding the Super 14 rugby semi finals, and found myself giving a really nasty comment, borne of irritation and anger. The strange thing is, I support my team, same as the rest, but I generally don’t care enough about other opinions to let them phase me. I guess this has been building up for some time, and national pride, something completely unfamiliar to me, snuck up and bit me in the… well, you get the idea.
I lost you didn’t I? Well, allow me to explain. The World Cup (Soccer, for those who don’t know) Will be held in South Africa shortly, indeed, kick off is just around the corner. National pride snuck into my country and infected more people than the common flu. Unfortunately, some people had their flu shots and proudly wear the colours of countries they know nothing about, have never visited and wouldn’t be able to point out on a map! Their support is due to past successes, gorgeous hunks of meat (aka rock hard abs) or other indeterminate blah blah blah. Oh, and the fact that our national team has not done well in the past is a factor for some.
The problem is also racism. Whilst my country has made leaps and bounds in that department, becoming tolerant of other cultures and races, hatred and fear has been a constant companion for most of my countrymen. They were either at the receiving end of decades of oppression and hate crimes, or they were the ones delivering the blows and feel the world has turned upside down, corruption has seeped in and our leaders are clueless puppets or children given the trigger for a nuclear bomb. Sadly, both sides are right. Corruption is rife, but with free speech we finally know about it. Some of our leaders really are idiots, but then, I believe most politicians are to a certain extent. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.
All that being said, our country has changed from a brutal blunt instrument, to a delicate machine of incredible beauty. Throw a spanner in the works and you will see sparks! If we can’t support our own country, despite the rough patches, we’ll never be considered for anything better. After all, if we don’t have the bad times, we will never recognize the good times… but I digress.
A Facebook friend summed up my country’s attitude to rugby in a few choice words. Life is a game, Rugby is serious. Indeed. Competition between the South Africa teams can be extreme. Despite the fact that the Springboks are made up out of players from all the teams playing in the Super 14, the hatred of opposing teams can be severe. A Stormers supporter (for example) would never support the Blue Bulls. They would rather support another country’s team against the Blue Bulls. This, my friends, is the crux of the matter. I support any South Africa team against another country, but having lived in Blue Bulls country for a rather large portion of my life, I am a Blue Bulls supporter. The fact that my friends and colleagues would rather support a New Zealand team than an upcountry team, rubbed me on the raw! If I could hiss and spit like a cat without adding to my increasing laugh lines (one of the drawbacks of being a quarter century survivor) and making a complete fool of myself, I would have.
My theory was simple. In the semi finals the two winning teams would face each other, right? Well, wouldn’t an SA final be preferable to matching our strength against an Aussie or NZ? Off course it would be! Surely this indicates the strength of our players?! No, some of these people would rather support New Zealand (by the way, can they point to it on a map?) than their upcountry counterparts. I mentioned, being a Blue Bull off course, that we smell their fear, it excites us, and we will meet them in the final. Ah, Stormers pride! I truly believe they are looking forward to making me eat my words, but that’s a story for another day!
In closing, my countrymen, I would like to add: I believe our boys will do us proud in the world cup. Wear your colours, show your support, and remember, we have a secret weapon. Our boys are used to it, not sure if those pretty boys would be able to stomach it… Blow your Vuvuzela!