Eks Jammer

Eks so geïrriteerd op die oomblik. Ek moet hierdie lesing doen. Dis maar net 20 bladsye. En ek het later vandag weer klas. Maar ek dink hierdie gevoel is nie die stupid lesing nie. Dis daai stupid graduation. Sien hierdie post dan weet jy wat ek van praat.

Daai dag van graduation was ek in so, so ‘n slegte bui. Die dag voor die tyd al. Ek wou nie gaan nie uit bitterheid. Ek wil dit nie admit nie, maar ek dink ook uit spite uit. Hoe stupid van my.

En daai dag, toe ek hoor hoe jy daar is, hoe jy wou hê ek moet daar wees, hoe hy daar is, hel dit het my depressed gemaak vir dae. Hoekom was ek so stupid? Ek gaan nie dat dom onnodige en onverdiende bitterheid ooit weer simpel, mooi logika oorweldig nie.

Ek dink die probleem was nie (stupid) idee dat ek julle nie gaan sien nie, of dat dit net vir ‘n minuut of twee sal wees. Hoekom gaan as ek julle nie gaan sien nie? Of hoekom gaan met die hoop dat ek julle gaan sien, as dit dalk nie so gaan wees nie? My bitterheid het daai punt gemaak: “Hoeveelkeer, J-, het jy gehoop om iets saam met hulle te doen (sonder om hulle te sê) dan stel hulle jou teleur, al was dit eintlik jou skuld? Dis beter om dit te los. Hierdie mense, jou vriende, wat nie eers weet wat vriendskap is nie.”

So om te hoor hoe julle daar is, en hoe julle my mis, en selfs sy wat gewonder het waar ek was. Dit het my laat besef dat dit nie julle is nie wat nie weet wat vriendskap is nie, maar ek. Eks die een wat uit bitterheid dit wou boikot. Eks die een wat my vriende verlaat het, seker die laaste keer wat ek julle saam sou gesien het.

Almal van julle vrae my waar ek was. En ek vertel net ‘n halwe waarheid, wat alles wat ek bo gesê het uitlos. Eks jammer.

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oN-DuI-dE-LiK

Ek is so, so vreeslik, wat is die woord? Gefrustreerd. Dit voel of ek elke jaar net al hoe meer onduidelik word. En ek bedoel dit in ‘n letterlike sin. Ek is gebore met ‘n versplete verhemelte en ek het my hele lewe lank al erg spraak probleme gehad.

In Graad 10 het ek gedink ek sal my break kry: ek gaan ‘n massive operasie hê waar hulle ‘n halo-frame (google dit) sou opsit wat ek vir tien weke dra. Dit het my boonste kakebeen min of meer dieselfde grote gemaak as my onderste een, en hulle het een nasale gat oop gemaak.

En toe?

Toes ek flippen meer onduidelik as ooit. Ek het die kapasiteit gekry vir duidelikheid, maar omdat daar skielik soveel meer lug uitkom was ek vreeslik nasaal. Maar ek het aangepas en dit het beter gegaan.

In eerste jaar van universiteit het ek spraak terapie gehad, en ek het actually gevoel asof ek vorder. Teen die einde van die jaar het ek amper normaal gevoel.

En in tweede jaar het ek begin sukkel. In einde derde jaar het ek dit weer bygewoon, en gehoor van probleme wat ek nog altyd gehad het maar nooit besef het nie. Soos die “s” en die “f” wat ek nog altyd gedog het ek okay sê, is eintlik sleg.

Het jy ‘n clue hoe dit voel om bewus te wees van elke flippen letter in elke flippen woord wat jy sê? Het jy ‘n clue hoe dit is? Daai gesigte wat mense maak wanneer hulle nie verstaan wat jy sê nie: daai “huh” gesig wat so skeef na jou kyk. Dis hoekom ek nie meer mense in die gesig kyk as ek praat nie!

Ek stres my gat af vir ‘n werk eendag hieroor. Ek stres oor hoe duidelik ek gaan wees as ek eendag my vrou vra “Sal jy met my trou?” en die speech wat ek op my troue moet gee. Wie stres oor sulke goed?

En wat my so pla is dat ek regtig, regtig duidelikheid so goed sou gebruik. Ek sou speeches gee, preek dalk, politiese dinge bywoon, mense inspireer in elke daagse goed, vir my toekomstige meisie sing, veg vir die waarheid… kinders grootmaak.

Het jy al ‘n droom gehad waar jy skielik verlam is? Of jy is doof? Of stom? En het jy al iemand verloor, dan word jy wakker en jy is van “hierdie is nie ‘n droom nie, dit is die werklikheid”? Daai gevoel in beide situatisies is wat ek af en toe ervaar.

Die kanse dat ek is soos ek is, is soos 1 uit 700. En dis ek! Dis soos om te besef jyt die lotto gewen… net om te besef dat wat jy gewen het is die eer om die eerste een te wees om in die gaskamer in te gaan.

En die cherry op die damn koek?

Selfs wanneer my woorde duidelik is, is ek nie duidelik nie. Kyk na hierdie damn post. Kyk na my ander posts. Of ek skryf  en of ek praat (al is my stem duidelik), verstaan mense nie wat ek eintlik probeer sê nie.

En dis soms net flippen erg.

PISS OFF

This is a quick rant to those all too common WordPressers who merely follow you, or like a post, just so they can be followed back. I’m talking of those whose blogs focus on increasing traffic, protests, success and all that other bullshit.

I don’t want you.

In this blog of mine I share some of the deepest secrets of my life. I don’t appreciate you cheapening my scattered thoughts.

PISS OFF. 

To those who actually read what I say, and out of appreciation like it. Thank you. I do not post with a like count in mind. I post because I need to write down what I’m feeling. I need to get my burning thoughts out of my head. Sometimes it helps just knowing that at least one other person understands what I’m saying, that I’m not mute in both speech and writing.

Idees Vol Vrees

‘n Mooi view, ne? Obsoluut lieflik! Die see is so duidelik.

Ja dis sarkasme.

Hierdie ou het sy lelike garage voor my ouma-hulle se huis opgebou en hulle uitsig uitgeblok. Daar is koue mense in hierdie wêreld. “Kom ek bou ‘n huis hier reg voor hierdie twee bejaardes wat lei aan kanker! Definitief nie verkeerd nie!”

Maar hierdie post is nie net ‘n gemoun nie. Nee. Ek sit nou hier op die stoep op my eie. Alhoewel dit ‘n warm dag is, is die wind yskoud hier in die skaduwee, koud genoeg om ‘n baadjie aan te sit.

Elke dag sover wat ek hier sit, kyk ek in hierdie tydskrif vas.

idees.JPG

 

 

Die model voorop is absoluut beeldskoon. Die kwaliteit van my selfoon se kamera doen nie justice aan die  kleur van haar gesig nie. Elke keer wat ek die voorblad sien kan ek nie ophou om daarna te kyk nie. Ek dink wat my so aantrek is dat sy mooi is en nie sexy nie. Daai mooi gesig van haar het nog al die eer en selfvertroue van ‘n opregte vrou. En haar oë straal een of ander dieper persoonlike skoonheid uit. Ek meen meeste fotos van ‘n meisie is bedoel om sexy te wees; dit wil sê, om haar lyf off te show asof sy ‘n man wil lok om met haar te slaap. Hulle oë het nie daai interne lieflikheid soos sy nie. Bittermin fotos deesdae van modelle is ‘n mooi of in Engels beautiful vrou. Beautiful is nie sexy nie (moet nooit hierdie twee verwar nie). Sommige mooi meisies kan sexy wees as hulle wil, maar wat hulle laat uitstaan is dat hulle weet hulle kan sexy wees, maar kies om nie te wees nie. Hierdie meisie op hierdie voorblad (hoe oud is sy? 20? 25? 30?) irriteer my gedagtes heeltyd. Ek het al meisies gesien wat selfs nog mooier is, (het ek?) maar tog is daar ietsie aan haar wat my oë vasvang elke liewe keer. Ek meen ek weet sy is heelmoontlik maar net ‘n produk van make-up, photoshop en regte beligting, maar ek kan nie help as om oor haar te wonder nie.

Wat dit erger maak is dat sy so ‘n mystery is. Hulle gee haar naam by die inhoudsopgawe, maar ek kry haar nêrens op Google of Facebook nie. Haar van is heelmoontlik ook in die tydskrif verkeerd gespel. Goed so. Ek weet nie wat ek sou doen as ek haar ooit op so ‘n manier sou vind nie. Nee. Laat sy maar ‘n mystery bly. Eendag – of nooit – sal ek in haar vasloop, en ek sal onthou (of miskien vergeet maar ‘n weird déjà vu gevoel hê) dat ek haar al gesien het.

As jy hierdie lees, wil ek net sê jy is beeldskoon.

Nog ‘n Droom

Ek sit hierso, besig om Supernatural te kyk. Kan jy glo eks al amper klaar met Season 12?! Dis ‘n baie goeie show. Deesdae al wat ek doen is om dit te kyk. Dit en lees. Dit en lees en dink. Dink, dink dink. Dink aan sekere issues, dink aan haar, my vriende en, ek weet nie hoekom nie, aan jou. Ek het jou, wat, in Mei laas gesien? En tog mis ek jou deesdae. Dis weird. Of nie.

Ek het van jou gedroom weer. Hel was dit ‘n lang droom wat ek nie wil onthou nie. Op een deel was jy daar. Ek het gebly in so ‘n gebou in Pretoria, en ek het jou daar gesien. Jy sou ook daarso bly. Ek was opgewonde toe ek dit hoor. Maar jyt gesê dat jy eerder gaan inry of iets omdat jou flatmate jou irriteer. Aai.

Maar jyt gesê jy wil my sien, en dit het my hoop gegee.

Wat hierdie droom weird maak is dat ek gister of eergister gewonder het wanneer ek weer van haar gaan droom. En nou droom ek van jou?

Wat beteken dit?

Ha! In daai jaar wat ek jou gesien het, het ek heeltyd mening probeer soek in alles wat jy doen, en alles wat gebeur. Hierdie jaar op daai dag wat ek jou gesien het, het so baie dinge gebeur wat nie net toeval kan wees nie. En tog het alles tot niks toe gekom nie. Daar was nie mening daarin nie, al het dit so gelyk.

Hierdie droom was nice, maar meningloos.

Ek sal regtig daarvan hou om jou weer te sien. Hel, ek sal daarvan hou!

You are not Friends

I don’t mean that you are not my friends. What I mean is that you don’t know what it’s like to be friends. 

I’m talking every single one of you bastards who are so insanely individualistic and yet so superficially in support of “friendship”. You assholes who think you know what friendship entails, but really don’t.

I can sum up a friend in one simple sentence: someone who will often stick you for a cup of coffee. Someone who would like to see you often.

That is the essence of a friend.

How do I express my anger without sounding petty, which I probably am? For the first few months I was staying at that forsaken place, alone, without doing ANYTHING. You KNEW that. Yet you just didn’t give a shit, did you? It’s not like anyone of you thought: “Hey! We’re off to watch this rugby game! Why don’t we invite him? I mean he’s a cool friend who I would want to see”. Nah I simply didn’t even enter your thoughts.

That’s why I moved back to where my real friends are. Screw you all.

And sometimes you say you miss me. Do you really? Aren’t you just lying to yourself? You and your 100+ friends? You probably “miss” all of them too. A few weeks ago I read a picture with text on a rather cliche Spanish Facebook page. It said: “Dices ‘te extraño’, pero no vienes a verme’. That is, “You say you miss me, but you don’t come to see me”. When I was still staying at that place I suggested that we and whoever else should go to the art museum, or the zoo, or anywhere you want. After all, we are students! We are free! But you just never took the time. You and the other one are the only people I ever saw over there. Now I moved back and whenever you mention that we should still do this, I can’t help but shake my head.

Or you, who are SO obsessed with that damn videogame. You came over and I wanted to share with you a game I recently purchased (I rarely purchase games nowadays) and you simply didn’t care. And you should know by now that I rarely play anything. You were just so obsessed with that damn… demo (he didn’t have the game, just a demo of it). And a few weeks later when I told you I’m busy you asked me if it was because I was playing that game you played. Like what the fuck, man? Are you so daft and self-focused? And you just couldn’t understand how I could not be playing that game of yours. And today when you send me that Steam invite to play DOTA with you. Seriously? I told you I don’t have it, that I don’t want to play it, that I prefer League of Legends, that it is too expensive, yet you send the invite? I don’t expect you to remember everything I told you, but come on.

And you, you have the best heart of anybody I know, yet even you have that student individualist mentality. I told you months ago that I moved out and that I’m driving in each day for class. Why the hell then do you think I can watch a movie at night? Or that we can go to “my place”. I hate that place. Or we would agree that we would see each other at that time, but when I messaged you to ask where you are, you said you are on your way home? What the fuck? Or you would keep asking me: “Are we going to go watch that movie next week?”. And I would say yes. Then my other friends would ask me to go watch that same movie with them but because of my promise to you I  would decline them… only to hear that the weekend you watched that movie on you own anyway!

This also reminds me of you, The Girl, who was such a pain a few years back. We were friends, yet after class you would simply vanish without looking back. Unless I took the trouble to catch up with you we would never speak. So I got confused. Perhaps you just don’t want to – we all have our tastes. You once said that it is just “university life” NOT to greet your friends. Yet the next time in class, just to see what you’d do, I would take you on your advice by simply walking out without greeting or looking back, but then after a few minutes you would message me asking me where I am? So you do expect me to wait? I used to think that this was simply you. But now I realise it is all of you.

Or perhaps I’m the one that’s mad.

Nah. I’m staying with my two cool friends over here. Yes they have their issues. Yes I’ve complained about them numerous times on this blog as well. But at least they know what it is like to be a friend. None of you do.

Die Minimum wat Sy Moet Wees

Is this the world you want?
You’re making it
Everyday you’re alive

The World You Want – Switchfoot

Ek dink baie aan haar. Ek imagine dat sy so en so is, maar ek weet dat sy obviously nie gaan wees wat ek verwag nie. That being said, daars net een ding wat sy absoluut moet hê:

Geduld, liefde en respek… nie vir my nie, maar vir my musiek. As ek haar vra om ‘n oomblik te vat en na hierdie vier minute lang liedjie te luister moet sy rustig daarna wil luister.

Min dinge maak my siel so seer as wanneer ek vir iemand ‘n liedjie met so veel diepte wil speel, net vir daai persoon om nie op te let nie.

 

Christian Euphemisms

This problem has been bugging me for years now. It is widespread, shameful and dangerous. What is the problem? Christian euphemisms.

If you’re a Christian, I challenge you with this question: “When’s the last time you mentioned the NAME ‘Jesus’ to someone?”.

Think about it.

Or did you use “religion” or “faith”? Why those euphemisms? Why are you ashamed of his name?

Consider this: in a normal discussion on people’s salvation, we should be talking in a way like this: “I pity these people who have not experienced Christ’s grace in their lives, who are not saved and who don’t have Jesus as a friend”.

Yet instead of that we have something like this: “These people are so lost. They follow the wrong faith. If only they knew what religion is right”. Or perhaps it is a tad bit better, but more awkward: “I pity these people, who, you know, don’t know HIM [euphemism], you know, God”.

What the hell, man? I know we all do this, but we should stop. This is shameful.

I’m Traumatised

A few years ago in my last year of school something happened which has traumatised me ever since. I had a cat. A very beautiful, playful, extremely energetic kitty cat. One midday I was sitting inside playing a video game. I remember hearing a car hooting outside, but I didn’t think much of it. But then my mom received a phone call saying she was run over in front of our house. It seems our cat crossed the road, saw a car, wanted to turn back, and was hit by this second car. I still curse that driver who did this to her. I remember her lying there – dead. Or was she dead? Her eyes had blood coming out of it, and her tongue hang out of her mouth. I really hoped she was dead, rather than paralyzed and slowly dying.

If my previous cat was my best friend, then this dear one, Millie (Russian for “cute”) was my daughter. Because I lost my previous cat, Leo, I appreciated every day with Millie. Honestly, each morning I thanked God for her. But what struck me was her being killed in the day. Not during the night, but in the day: right there for my eyes to behold her dead body lying there. The following day after school my best friend and I buried her. I still remember seeing the blood in the street for a few days afterwards. Luckily the rain washed it away.

Later the same year my mother wanted a new cat. I didn’t, for obvious reasons. But over time I’ve grown extremely attached to this one as well. Her name is Espi (shortened for Esperanza, which means Hope).

But I’m traumatised.

Every. Single. Time. for the last three years now, whenever I hear a car hooting outside, I am afraid Espi is run over. I cannot rest until I see her alive.

Today, just around twilight, a car stood outside for a long time. Damn those damn people always stopping outside our house for no reason! Damn them all! Everytime I see a car outside I look for Espi to see if she’s alright. This time I couldn’t find her. My mother was jogging, so I looked at her phone to see if she has a miss call – perhaps Espi is run over and somebody called her. A missed call from an unsaved number! Where’s Espi? I went out the front, came back inside and searched the house, went out the back, and still I couldn’t find her.

But when I came out the front I saw her little eyes looking at me. So I just picked her up and hugged her fat little tummy while she struggled to get loose.

The Anti-Intellectual Intellectual

Screw all of the decorum and formality. People think if they are courteous, well versed in words, have relatively high grades and think differently that they are by default “smart”, “intelligent” or “intellectual”.

Did you know that 6 out of 10 people consider themselves above average in intelligence? Think about that for a moment. I’ll wait… The average ought to be “5 out of 10”. Yet 6 out of 10 think they are intelligent. That figures, doesn’t it?

I despise smart people. I really do. Not the really smart people, of course. No. For those I have the utmost respect. I’m talking of those who think they are intelligent. Perhaps they are, but merely being aware of it does not make you an intellectual.

For the sake of the argument let me arbitrarily make up my own definitions for “smart”, “intelligent” and “intellectual”, and proceed by condemning them all.

“Smart” is the ability to solve things. “Intelligent” is the ability to think outside the box. I guess both of them are the same. “Intellectual” is not the same as those two. Yes, intellectuals often are smart or intelligent. But here’s the thing: they don’t really have to be. To be intellectual is to understand. To understand how things fit together. To understand people.

I hate all of that. In fact, if I had read the above paragraph on someone else’s blog, my first thought would have been “Look at this pathetic ‘intellectual’ wannabe blogger who thinks that by breaking down intelligent people he is somehow putting himself on a higher plane”. In all honesty, perhaps I am doing that. I am doing that. But I despise myself for it at least.

Smart people are so ridden with ego and condescension. Their pride blinds them to fundamental truths; and in so doing they become foolish. We’ve all met someone who is so “intelligent” that he dismisses out of hands sacred truths merely for being sacred. People so blinded by their intelligence that they become narrow-minded (foolish). They have absorbed some “higher understanding” which, in fact, is just intellectual bullshit in disguise.

Come on, do you seriously think that a bunch of “intelligent” people together are talking about fundamental truths about the world? After all, they are all “intelligent” people sitting together. All of them talking about abstract political nonsense while forgetting to ponder the basic questions of life.

Besides all the talk of being “intelligent” is all the people who think they are so “deep” and “empathetic” and “religious”. Not a day goes by that I don’t see some Facebook “test” testing your “empath levels”, or whether or not you are an “old soul” or your personality type. People like to think they are empathetic and deep. But guess what, more likely than not you are not one of those things! Just wanting to be deep does not make you deep! Thinking you are a deep person, or empathetic (as opposed to sympathetic) does not make you deep or empathetic! Take a look on YouTube and look how many videos are for “smart people”, or google things about intelligence and you’ll find yourself thinking “Wow I must be intelligent”. You can delude yourself, but you can’t fool me… fool. 

This song by TobyMac is not talking about the secret society of the Illuminati. He is singing about people who think they have gained some higher “understanding” (people who have been “illuminated”), and therefore think themselves on some higher plane of existence. In short, the post and the song are about pharisees.