I’m a Wannabe

“Describe yourself in one word”.

Mmm… It would either be “Christian” or “Wannabe”.

“Wannabe” as in “I think I am smart, but I’m not. I think I know so much, but I don’t. Astronomy is an interest of mine, but really I don’t know anything about it. I consider my self educated in politics and philosophy, but really I’m a fool.”

Honestly, I am. I had like one semester of philosophy, the politics I study is pathetic in its content, the astronomy “interest” of mine is based on knowledge I learned from children’s books and youtube videos, etc.

But oh wow I am so smart! I am so intelligent, wise, humble and good!

And then I read Romans and I am crushed. Or I read C. S. Lewis and I touch a depth of soul and knowledge I can only dream of. Or I read of Isaac Newton and Nikola Tesla and I feel like a pathetic school boy.

What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death? Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!

The Extroverted Introvert

There is something called “personality tests”. I don’t care about them anymore (they are highly overrated), but I recall being placed as an INFJ (though a few months later as an INFP).

This “type” has one bit of truth which I find very fitting to myself: being an extroverted introvert. People tire me. They really do. Few people manage to give me energy, but for the most part every single one of them has some irritating quirks which sucks the life out of me like a leech.

So for the last few weeks I’ve been like a hermit: I go to class on Monday and Thursday… and then I head back home to my dog and cat, working on assignments, watching video series and reading a few things. I don’t “love reading”, by the way. “Reading” is not something you either love or hate. I like learning and I like good stories. If books are the best way to do these (as opposed to, say, documentaries or DVDs) then so be it.

Books are overrated.

Nerds are overrated.

Introverts are underrated.

But every so often I would yearn to go out. I absolutely love being out at night at some place with my friends. I love it. Yet these friends which are “extroverts” (so they say), are actually dead. They don’t want to do anything during the weak. They don’t go through trouble to do so. They just sit around at night playing RuneScape or watching TV.

Yet at school they considered me “boring” as they slept late on holidays (and on vacations) and never did anything other than play video games. The only reason they considered me so was that I didn’t (and don’t) like going out to be with a bunch of strangers.

But anyway, it is not my intention to blast friends I haven’t seen in weeks for things they said years ago. I got distracted:

I just saw a picture of the Precious Friend (see this post which has the same idea as this one), out at some campus residence event. Man that looks awesome! At night, with people you know! That’s just it, isn’t it? The best thing I can imagine is such a night event, neither too cold nor too hot, with stalls and music and events… but full of people I know. How I wish I could be there now!

But I know tomorrow they are gonna tire me again. My friends, especially those at campus, absolutely fail to just realise my situation. They never seem to consider it: I am staying at home (not at the flat anymore, although I still have access to it), driving to campus, and then after class driving back home.

Yet then WHY when you know this do you want to grab a cup of coffee after class at the flatWHY do you think, after we negotiated at half past ten to meet at half past one, that I would wait for you (because you forgot) until 1 o’ clock before going to where ever? WHY don’t you consider what I said about not wanting to drive in the dark, always taking your time, always wanting to go watch a movie at 3 o’ clock? WHY when you know I’m going to see someone else that day as well, do you just assume that I’m only going to see you?

It reminds me of that one time at school, where on the Thursday I and a friend negotiated to visit each other the next day, and then the next day, without even him realising it, that friend visited another friend. Not because he was mad. But simply because he forgot.

Or that other time, also in school, where at the start of the year we negotiated to sit at the front of the IT class (although I like the back). Then, as you were late, I sat at the front… only to see you come in later, walk past me, and sit at the back!

Or two weeks ago where you said we should absolutely go watch that film next week, only to find you watched it with your young nephew the weekend.

If all of the above cases were done out of some ill intent, I would paradoxically have been fine with it. But it’s precisely this lack of awareness by people that dries my energy up like bread exposed to a fire.

And you know, all of this caused me to lose a lot of loyalty for people. I mean the reason I’m at home and not at the flat is because if I stay there I will have a class until 12:30 on Monday… and then stay at the flat and rot until Thursday 9:30. In contrast at home I am, well at home. I have my pets, more privacy, my grandparents, my safety, etc.

For the first few weeks I stayed at the flat with the hope of seeing these two specific friends, yet I rarely did. Always cancelling our agreements or just simply forgetting.
Once again, they don’t do this out of ill intent for me. They simply do this because they don’t realise what I am sacrificing to see them.


Should I Sent You a Friend Request (again)?

Dammit. You drove me mad. You drove into depression. You consumed my life. But then I got over you: slowly and painfully (very, very painfully) I got over you. When I considered you out of my life, I removed you as a friend.

And now…

And now after two years…

We talked again. And hell did I enjoy it! To see your cute face and to hear your sweet voice. Damn, how much I miss you now!

Should I open the possibility of the past repeating itself?

Or will it be a new chapter?

Should I sent you a friend request again?

(Seriously, dear Reader, should I?)

Confidence Doesn’t Make a Pretty Guy

You know there are often times when I feel on top of the world. I would go the shops on my own, talk to friends… and even daydream about a girl.

And then every so often as I work on my phone I’ll catch a reflection, or as I sit in my room I’d see a glimpse in the mirror. And then everything just seems so hopeless. Then I just realise who I am again.

The Girl: A New Chapter? – Trip down Nightmare Lane

Ah… “the Girl”. That girl which drove me mad. That girl which really screwed up my head. That girl that helped to drive me to depression. That girl which almost cost me my friendships and my sanity. Yes, the Girl.

Hell tonight was a trip down nightmare lane. My first year at university was shit. One thing I always struggled with was a lack of transport. This was specifically problematic when I had to attend late tests or lectures. At times I would have to walk 1.5 km at 9 o’ clock at night. Not really the safest thing. Sometime the Girl would give me lifts.

Also, at that time I stayed “alone”. Not quite alone, I mean there were three other people there as well, but we almost never spoke. I was alone.

Then last year was the total opposite: I stayed with my best friend at a great place, with great varsity people, a whole different year.

And now this year… more boring but it has more in common with the first year than the second.

So today I woke up with my beloved dog and cat beside me, and headed for campus: we were going to have a public lecture by a famous muslim scholar on religion and violence. Now because my current residence – staying “alone” with one other dude – is not so safe, I had to park my car at the university’s sport place (?). This presented me with a problem: the gates close at 7, but I’ll only be finished at 8. So I guess I’m gonna have to walk… or not. I figured I’ll just use Uber.

When I arrived at university I got that chill vibe I got in first year: seeing campus grow darker and darker reminded me of that time. An eery feeling. Oh, a Whatsapp! The True Friend sent a picture of a scene in the movie, Bridge to Terabithia, which showed the lead actor looking at the lead actress waving goodbye to him. As far as I know that was the last time he saw her. “She reminds me of The Girl”, my friend said. She reminded me of her before my friend even mentioned it, but I didn’t tell him that.

It’s getting late. I can’t stand sitting here all tense in this forsaken place. I should move to the venue. I approach and… what the hell? There she is: the Girl. Odd, odd, odd. Even more odd, as we spoke she said she thought about me about a week ago and about some books of mine she still had. A week ago I was thinking the exact same thing. This is no mere coincidence; I really don’t think about her that often anymore.

So did anything change? If you looked closely at my posts about her in the post you would notice the reason she drove me mad: she had no interest in my life. Yet as we spoke tonight she actually asked about what I’m up to, what I’m studying, and stuff like that. We had a good conversation. I don’t recall having such a both-sided conversation with her in first year.

Afterwards she asked me how I’m gonna get home. After I told her she insisted that she gives me a lift. Wow, that was also just like old times.

My mind is a raving machine. Not the intellectual type unfortunately. No. It’s the type that will build multiple possible futures based on a single event. As we sat through the lecture, I again thought about what it would be like to fall in love with her again. What the conditions would be. How everything would turn out. Then I just thought: “Stop it. Thoughts like these are what drove you mad. SHE drove you mad”.

Just stop it.

(the picture my friend sent me)



She’s gonna be pissed when she realises I removed her from Facebook a few months ago.

Eks nie op jou verlief nie, maar…

Eks nie op jou verlief nie. Dit weet ek. Ek weet ek jok nie vir myself nie. Niemand ken myself beter as ek nie, behalwe die Here homself.

Ek ken jou al vir ‘n tydjie nou. Jys eintlik my eerste regte vriendin. Ek het al ander “vriendinne” gehad, maar suffice to say dit was altyd tydelik. Ek het al twee keer – nee drie keer – op jou ‘n crush gehad… maar na ek so baie keer sterk gevoelens vir ander mense moes afleer, veral daai een keer, het ek geleer hoe om gevoelens in hulle uitbroeiing te stop en te versmoor.

Eks nie op jou verlief nie, maar dan hoekom het ek ‘n paar weke terug gedroom ek soen jou? Hoekom het ek gister aand so ‘n droom gehad van ‘n drukkie wat ek jou gegee het wat so vol liefde was? Hoekom word ek jaloers as ek jou sien in ander mans se fotos? Hoekom hou ek jou soos ‘n valk dop as dit kom by potensiële gevoelens wat jy vir iemand kan hê?

Soos ek sê, ek is nie op jou verlief nie. Ek droom nie van jou – o wag ek doen. Ek dink nie baie aan jou nie – o wag ek doen. Ek mis jou nie. Nie? Ek dink nie so nie. Ek weet nie.

Maar as ek na my hart kyk, dan weet ek ek is nie op jou verlief nie. Ek het nie daai hartsverlange na jou nie. Maar wat is dit dan? Liefde vir ‘n suster? Meh nee. Net vir ‘n vriendin? Miskien? Ek weet nie.

Ek voel as ek in die toekoms dink, sal ek jou net onthou as ‘n goeie vriendin. Ek dink regtig nie dat ek op jou verlief is nie.

Maar dan hoekom het ek hierdie hele post geskryf?


Die dag toe geld weer god geraak het

Sterkte. Jy weet nie wie ek is nie, maar in eerste jaar was ek in jy in ‘n selfde klas gewees. Dis nogal erg om soms te sien hoe jy op Facebook sulke goeie positiewe fotos oplaai… en dan in die aand laai jy goed soos hierdie op. Dis nie lekker nie. Ek weet.

Good luck.

Ballade vir 'n Woordesmous

Die oomblik toe ons baklei en jy sê vir my dat dit vir jou voel of ek net julle goedheid misbruik het jy die mat heeltemal onder my voete uitgepluk. Ek’t nooit gedink jy, van alle mense, sal hierdie woorde uiter nie.

Jy vir wie ek geidoliseer het, jy wat my altyd opgehelp het, jy wat my beter ken as enige iemand, wat weet wat my swak punte is. Hoe kon jy een van hierdie swak punte gebruik het om my dieper in die dam in te stamp sonder om net ‘n klein bietjie sleg te voel?

Ja, ek mag dalk nie soveel hê soos julle nie, ek mag dalk aan minder gewoond wees, ek mag dalk moet harder werk vir die goed wat ek wil hê terwyl jy net kan vra en dit ontvang. Ja ek is gewoond aan minder maar dit was en is nie veronderstel om ons…

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Jippie Yay Yay… ek kort hulp

Hier sit ek. Eks amper 21. Ek is besig om Supernatural te kyk. Jy weet daai reeks waar twee broers allerhande weird supernatural goed stop. En ek sien in hierdie reeks wat ek ook in ‘n oulike fliek onlangs gesien het: volwassenheid.

Daai fliek was Loser. Dit het gegaan oor ‘n goeie ou wat verlief geword het op ‘n effense eksentriese en oppervlakkige meisie. Maar sy het darem teen die einde besef hoe veel hy omgee en so. Eks mal oor sulke flieks.

Maar anyway ek dink net bymyself: in die VSA, lyk dit my, het baie mense al ‘n werk op skool deeltyds. Of hulle betaal vir hulle flat terwyl hulle studeer. En hier sit ek besig om na hierdie shit te kyk, besig om deesdae daai haatlike game te speel en te stres oor my toekoms.

Ek meen, ek is op universiteit en ek doen ‘n BA, maar gaan ek ‘n werk he? Eerlikwaar ek KAN een he. Eks net te bang vir dit. Ek weet nie of ek die persoonlikheid en volwassenheid het om in werksplek te wees nie. En dit pla my verskriklik baie.

Dit pla my al sedert ek 20 geword het. Toe ek so oud geword het, het ek besef dat ek nou in my derde dekade is. Dat ek in die volgende vyf jaar klaar gaan studeer, ‘n werk gaan kry en dalk trou! Flippen hel! Dis weird, maar weet jy wat pla my nou al? Al het ek haar nog nie ontmoet nie? My trou dag! My trou speech wat ek moet gee pla my nou al!

En ‘n kind? Of net ‘n man wees vir my vrou? Of net nie trou nie maar darem ‘n werk he? Al hierdie dinge maak my so bang.

Ek het gehoop om miskien volgende jaar honeurs te doen om uit te staan. Of om darem cum laude te graduate. Maar toe merk sy my taak op 68%. Ek het 70 MINIMUM verwag. Ek het gedink aan 80 miskien. Ek KORT 70 vir honeurs. “O alles is goed”, sy die lektor wat dit gemerk het, “bo gemiddelde biografie, goeie struktuur, unieke view”…  “behalwe dat jy net ander mense se opinies gevat het”. BULLSHIT. So as ek my opinie gee, sê jy ek het geen sources om dit te dek nie. Gebruik ek net wat my sources sê, dan sê jy ek gee nie my eie view nie! Either way is ek screwed! De hel met al daai tonne werk! Jy WOU my 70 gee, maar jy sê “Dis hoekom jy nie meer het nie”. En weet jy wat pis my af, o random leser van my blog? Dat ander mense wat in drie dae hulle taak gedoen het (hoe de hel doen jy ‘n 2000 woord derde jaar politiek taak in drie dae?) 70+ gekry het! Hoekom? Want hulle was te haastig om sources te kry so toe suig hulle duim. Nou dink die lekter “Wow, hierdie persoon het ‘n opinie, kom ons gee hom ‘n onderskeiding (al het hy net drie sources). Maar hierdie ou wat 12 sources het en moeite gedoen het, hy pleeg amper plagiaat (want hy gebruik ander bekende slim denkers se punte MET verwysings) en verdien daarom 68. Skroef sy toekoms. Jinne hierdie pla my.

En daai werk was okay. Inteendeel, dit was vrek interessant. My volgende taak en toets gaan gaan oor feminisme en kolonialisme… en die lektor is ‘n vrek subjektiewe feminis. Hoe de hel gaan ek 70 hê? Gaan sy regtig objektief wees as ek sê “marxist feminism is fallacious, the effects of colonialism is overstated (if not overrated) and African socialism is doomed (Western capitalism is the best system)”? Dis my toekoms op die spel! Ek vertrou haar nie! Ons derde jaars is nie guinnea pigs nie! Ons verdien slim professors om ons belangrikste jaar aan te bied, nie jong sopas gegradeerde (radikale) meesters studente nie.

Ek het nog nooit, op universiteit of op skool oor my punte gemoun nie. Ja soms is ek ongelukkig en ek voel die lektor kon bietjie beter wees. Maar overall sou ek elke keer net dink “Wel, jy moes harder gewerk het”. Die keer het ek HARD gewerk; klomp sources gelees, opgesom, mooi toegepas. Jy sê self dat alles great was!

O wag en wat nog?! My abstract is nie flippen in diep genoeg nie! Ek het net gese “This discussion on neo-mercantilism is followed by a critique”, maar jy wil hê ek moet sê WAT die critique is in my abstract ook nog… asof dit nie die werk van die conclusion is om hierdie detail te gee nie. Hoe baie kan JY se in 100 woorde, vroumens?! Net hierdie bogenoemde sin is 9 woorde! ‘n Tiende van my 100 woorde cap vir die abstract! Bleddie hel. Ek was reg om in eerste jaar, toe daar twee lektore was wat die vak aangebied het, uit jou klas uit te beweeg het na die ander een toe. Nonsens!

Anyway, ek gaan nou aankyk op Supernatural. Ek wil sien watse snaakse goed daai twee broers die keer gaan aanvat. Miskien is daar weer ‘n mooi, goeie meisie wat hulle red.

On Beautiful Things – George MacDonald

From the book At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald

‘Well, please, North Wind, you are so beautiful, I am quite ready to go with you.’
‘You must not be ready to go with everything beautiful all at once, Diamond.’
‘But what’s beautiful can’t be bad. You’re not bad, North Wind?’
‘No; I’m not bad. But sometimes beautiful things grow bad by doing bad, and it takes some time for their badness to spoil their beauty. So little boys may be mistaken if they go after things because they are beautiful.’
‘Well, I will go with you because you are beautiful and good too.’
‘Ah, but there’s another thing, Diamond:- What if I should look ugly without being bad – look ugly myself because I am making ugly things beautiful? – What then?’

Waars Jy, Meisiekind?

Waar de hel is jy? Wat de hel doen jy? Hoe de hel lyk jy? Hoe de hel is jy? Wanneer kom jy? Ek sit hier en wag vir jou, man. Ek wag vir jou, ek dink aan jou, ek droom van jou, ek bid vir jou.

Maar jinne jy vat jou tyd! Hou jy daarvan om my in angs te laat sit? Dis nie baie mooi nie, jy weet. Glad nie mooi nie. Asseblief moenie my vir ewig laat wag nie.

Hou jy daarvan om jou gesig te verskuil? Eenkeer is jy blond, ‘n ander keer ‘n brunette en ‘n ander keer het jy rooi hare. Soms het jy sproete, soms is jy erenstig, soms lag jy. Sal ek jou kan maak lag?

Hou jy daarvan om nooit vir my ‘n enkele woord te sê nie? Of te wel jy het eenker darem iets gesê: jyt gesê dis “oulik” om my ver te laat ry na ‘n plek toe net sodat jy my kon kom optel. Slegte maniere, meisiekind! Glad nie mooi nie!

Aai man, maak gou.