Friday, July 31, 2009

Whose Line Is It Anyway?

I have this habit. It’s a bad habit. I tend to watch my favourite movies ten times too many and then get hooked on my favourite lines or those lines that really stick out in the movie; it stays with me FOREVER! Actually a lot of what I say in real life is either made up on the spot, or a derivative of something I heard in a movie. So much so, that sometimes I even forget how I derived a phrase from something I’ve long forgotten about.

Throughout the years, I’ve watched thousands of movies, despite being picky about my genres and there have been many words and phrases that I’ve come across…most of which I only remember sporadically, or when faced with a particular situation or scenario that reminds me of or prompts the word or phrase in question.

Now I know that many of you are movie guru’s (or so you proclaim), so I thought I’d throw some lines out there and see if you can guess the movie. The one with the most correct answers will win an all expenses paid trip on the Virgin Galactic departing in 2 years time…destination Star-Trek. Ok maybe not. But I can promise that the winner will have unlimited bragging rights and hold the title of THE HOND (Afrikaans to English translation meaning: The Dawg).

I’m tagging everyone and anyone who’s interested or wants to compete. The rules are that in addition to guessing which movies I’m quoting from, you have to blog your favourites too; those quotes, sayings, phrases and lines that have stuck with you, so that we can all guess which movies they come from too. To spice things up abit, I’m making this quiz MANDATORY for the following people:


SO here we go...


1.) C: There is the embodiment of Love. Your Venus.
W: Oh and how I hate her.


2.) W: So she has a problem with moles. Besides it’s not a mole, it’s a beauty spot.
N: Well I can spot that beauty all the way from Wisconsin.

3.) Hey what did I say? Did you hear what I said? I heard what I said because I was standing there when I said it. I told you, I told you to secure a witness. Not to shoot up a neighbourhood, not to do another dead body. Just get the dope back and do it quietly.


4.) B: You making a movie or something?
T: More like an Ode.
B: To what?
T: Lives of quiet desperation, human existence at its lamest.
B: Oh fascinating. Do you need an assistant?

5.) By the word religion I’ve seen the lunacy of fanatics of every denomination be called the “will of God”. I’ve seen too much religion in the eyes of too many murderers. Holiness is in right of action, courage and goodness.

6.) S: I just had an apostrophe.
H: You mean an Epiphany.
S: Lighting just struck my head.
H: That must hurt.

7.) Look Mr. M. If you’re edged coz I’m wheezing on your grindage, just chill. Coz, if I had the whole Brady Bunch thing happening at my pad I’d go crying over there. So don’t tax my gig so hard core cruster.

8.) I will slap you man. I will slap the hell out of you. You don’t know who you messing with. They call me snap and pop coz I snap and I will pop your ass. Don’t mess with me man. You better watch your back…even in the shower, even on picnics, you better watch your god damn back. Make a right.
9.) When I was a kid, my father had this dog. It started to get all weak and sickly so he took it to the Vet. The doctor examined it and said that a maggot must have laid eggs in the dogs butt. He said that there was not much that they could do. The baby maggots crawled up and started to grow and eventually they were going to eat the dog alive from the inside out. He said it should be put to sleep because it was an old dog anyway. But my father wouldn’t do it. He took the dog home, put it on the bed and started to reach up into the dog, just picking out the maggots with his fingers one by one. It took him all night but he got every last one. That dog outlived my father. That’s Love Sam.
10.) Well you don’t know me very well do you Creep-ella. I’m the Latina Marilyn Monroe. I got more legs than a bucket of Chicken. ¡Qué tipa pendeja!

11.) A literate burglar? How refreshing.

12.) So. Ok. The Attorney General says there’s too much violence on TV and that should stop. But even if you took out all the violent shows, you could still see the news. So until mankind is peaceful enough not to have violence on the news, theres no point in taking it out of shows that need it for entertainment value. Thank You.

13.) You don’t write, you don’t call. And not once did you invite me to your house for coffee and cake.

14.) Ccccorbin, mmmmines not working. I don’t know what to do. Why I always gotta get the broken one?

15.) I understand. I got a brother, too. My little brother, Perry. We used to be best friends. Now we don't even speak. He thinks I tipped off the cops about the chicken fights in his garage. Can you believe that? My own brother think I'm a snitch. Just because my chicken lost in the semifinals. I didn't even really care. He had to fight a chicken that didn't make his weight. And he still went the distance. He had a lot of heart. And he was delicious.

No cheating. I'll post the answers in the comments box at a later date.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Digital Divide

I love stalkers…they make me feel at home. Kindred spirits we are. I really don’t mind if the world wants to stalk me. However, I do have one tiny problem with Twi-volution…those female followers that want me to take a look at their *ahem* “sexy pictures”. I call them Twammers (like spammers only on Twitter). But WTF? Thanks but NO thanks. I’m sitting here minding my own business, eating my cornflakes and there’s a million things I have to do, but looking at your hairy gwap isn’t one of them. And no I don’t care if you waxed or shaved. I don’t get my thrills out of looking at a strange (or worst still, familiar) muffs. In fact it nauseates me and makes me want to puke bucket-loads. Seriously. So yeah, fuck off. Thanks.

Are there no boundaries anymore? Is everything an undercover orgy? Did I miss something? Seems like we’re back in the Dark Ages when prostitution reigned. Only difference is that it’s all digital now.

Speaking of digital, I was running on the treadmill the other day when Patricia called from the office. Not wanting to miss her call or interrupt my routine, I answered while gasping for air. She rambled off some details and then asked me what on earth I was doing. I assured her that I was at the gym and not engaging in some pre-marital x-rated regimen, to which she replied that I should just marry my cellphone…a statement prompted by the fact that I spend a substantial amount of my day rummaging through Emails, messages, Facebook and now Twitter.

This got me thinking. It’s been a decade of solid technology savvy-ness in SA (maybe 2 decades around the world), but we’ve become so dependant and reliant on our gadgets that I can’t ever imagine life without it. That afternoon, I sat and tried to recall life in 1995…when I was an annoying teen in high school and the Mall was as far as I got travel-wise. Cellphones already existed but it was something you saw in the movies. At the time, the reality seemed like something in the distant future. Then all of a sudden it was the Big Bang, digitally speaking, and all of a sudden EVERYONE and their grandma had a cellphone including the poorest of the poor in the Shanty Towns and that 84 year old Aunty down the road that can’t see properly because of her cataracts.

And it’s just taken off from there. I can remember browsing through unlimited (and very slow) Internet during my second year at University in 2001. It was like swimming in a digital sea of knowledge (both accurate and inaccurate). I spent HOURS and entire WEEKS sifting through as much pointless information as I could…all for entertainment value. It was like a whole other world was opened up to me and I didn’t need Visas to visit, just a stable connection.

When I was living in London, I used to write LONG-ASS lengthy blogger-style emails to my parents, cousins, aunts and close friends almost every day, detailing all my shenanigans and the cute guys I met etc. Imagine my shock and horror when I discovered that Mother was printing them out and giving a copy to anyone and everyone who enquired about me. And when I re-read a few of them, I wanted to DIE. That's my life right there, every embarrassing detail immortalised by the digital era.

Today, technology has become amalgamated into my everyday life processes…so much so that it’s difficult to know exactly where it begins and where it ends and I’m positively LOST without it. Even on my busiest day…the mother of all hectic days...I still spend a solid 2 hours online whether it’s on a PC or on my mobile phone. I spend an average of 4 hours a day online and can spend an entire day on the net and not even notice it. In fact, I can confidently state that 70% of my life is conducted online, with an equal 70% of my social life and relationships with family and friends sustained online too. Sounds pathetic I know. But it’s the truth. I conference-email those friends I have in cliques, as well as my close cousins etc…because it’s cheaper and I can’t conference-call them.

I do wonder though, where does it end? Imagine getting married online, then living out your married life with little cyber kids that grow when you feed them like those Tamagochi’s we played with in the late 90’s. I had to do a detailed study on Ambient Technologies sometime last year and was stunned at the developments and where it’s leading to. Then a few days ago, Richard Branson announces he’s taking tourists on the first celestial holiday, launching Virgin Galactic in roughly 2 years time. All of the participating tourists have already paid for their tickets at $200 000 a pop...chump-change for a space adventure. It all still seems so far away…unfathomable. But then again most of us never envisioned life as it is today, so different from a mere decade ago.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Tweet Tweet

Check it out. I tweet therefore I am.

I'm waiting for the words to come, but it looks like I've used them all on this blog. Anyway, Twitter is part of my do-something-new-every-month for JULY (in addition to the Travels).

Speaking of which, I haven't gone into too much detail about my trip, simply because I don't feel like it. I don't feel like re-capturing those moments just yet. In a nut-shell, I had a great time, although I found Ireland somewhat lacking (maybe it's because I've been media-lized to expect this great sense of Irish Pride and Patriotism and found none)...but then again, its unfair to judge the entire country on one city. I should have travelled inland, explored more. Edinburgh was beautiful and amazing. Cardiff was great too but the weather was shite.

That aside, I'm seriously re-thinking my life's purpose. I love the freedom that money can buy, but I'm going through one of those patches where nothing in life makes any sense. I'm ready to just throw in the towel and go gallivanting on some charity mission. I wonder if I could join the Peace Corps as a foreigner? I don't really know whats going on but at this point, I feel like I'm being called to a higher purpose. Stuff that involves building homes for those who have none and taking care of children who have nothing.

Maybe I just need to smoke weed. Not happening though, I'm too much of a control freak to go there and Ramadaan is around the corner.

On a totally unrelated note, for those following Mandy's exploits and my updates on her, I'm glad to report that as of last week, she is officially engaged. Yep, he popped the question with a beautiful ring and now he doesnt seem so old anymore hehehehe...

Anyway, her parents seem to have warmed up to him, and bottom line, he can provide for her in a way that no one else can. She's happy and I wish her all the best. I'm glad I nearly kicked her backside. Sometimes, people need that.

Monday, July 27, 2009

I'll Never Understand...

I’ll never understand…Seafood.
I’ve always maintained that I don’t eat anything that stays pink AFTER it’s been cooked, but what I really don’t get is how some people can swoon over glorified insects with those tentacles. Prawns, Crab, Lobster, Mussels, Oysters and whatnot, that’s not food in my book, that’s cockroaches and snot.

I’ll never understand…People who French kiss their pets.
It’s disgusting. Period. And if you’re so desperate for unconditional love, have children...1 kid every 5 years is sure to cover your hug and kiss quota. And if you’re really desperate, I’m sure you can pay someone for cuddles. Seriously.

I’ll never understand…Zionism.
Take religion out of the equation and you have Apartheid. It’s as simple as that. And everyone had a fat lot to say about Apartheid with all the riots, worldwide protests and sanctions, so I don’t get why Zionism is the exception. Apartheid and its derivatives were condemned in Germany, South Africa, America and every other nation where the disease of segregation sprung, so why should it be any different now?

I’ll never understand…Peoples obsession with poetry.
Sure there are some out there that are beautiful and moving. But I reckon that the poet is the only person that really knows what the poem is about and hence, the poem can only have significant meaning to the poet. Everyone else’s interpretations are just perceptions…sometimes they’re only ever psychological manifestations of what people WANT to read into…what they WANT to see. It’s kinda like reading your horoscope and taking meaning from those ambiguous and arbitrary predictions.

I’ll never understand…Why Apple never considered making the iPod waterproof.
Enough said. I should patent that.

I’ll never understand…The concepts of Capitalism and Democracy co-existing.
An oxymoron of sorts. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer, and then the rich exploit the poor to get even richer. Then you’re only allowed to give power of authority over your entire existence on earth to one professional Liar who is merely a puppet to the controlling elite. There’s nothing fair about either. Both, in my opinion, are a paradox and we’ve been brainwashed to think we need both to be successful.

I’ll never understand…Why Lays stopped producing their BBQ potato chips in South Africa.
It was my all-time favourite from all the flavours, only recently superceded by the Carribbean Onion & Balsamic Vinegar flavour. Why oh why did they do that?

I’ll never understand…South African spelling rules.
To us, it’s colour, not color and favour, not favor and supercede, not supersede and organise, not organize etc. etc. etc. Why does our spelling have to be different from the rest of the world?

I’ll never understand…People who drink alcohol socially.
Now I’ve always maintained that if I was allowed to drink, straight-up I’d be an alcoholic because I have an addictive personality and sometimes I like to run away from my problems like a coward. However, Islam does not permit alcohol and I’ve been spared the embarrassment of saying things I really want to say but wouldn’t out of social courtesy, as well as the hangovers and rotting liver. As far as I know and from what many a friend has told me, most alcoholic drinks taste like shit and the only perk is that warm fuzzy feeling and a momentary sense of self-confidence before it dissipates either into nothingness or lonely despair followed by a headache the size of Texas and nausea/vomiting spells that can only be rivaled by a dozen oestrogen-fueled pregnant women. So why drink it if you’re not aiming to get hopelessly drunk? Seriously, I want to know. Someone tell me.

I’ll never understand…The wisdom behind horror movies.
I just cannot wrap my mind around why some people enjoy being scared shitless. I take no pleasure out of such activities. If it’s the adrenaline rush people are after, I’m sure there are other things you can do, like jump out of a plane at 35 000 feet with a stranger strapped to your back, hoping and praying that the Parachute works. I guess I’m just not the type to get my kicks from violent slasher movies or those movies delving into the unknown poltergeist territory.

I’ll never understand...People who don’t like chocolate.
I’ve met two or three in my lifetime and I tell them all the same thing; that they have serious problems and should be checked out. I even gave one of the women my doctor’s telephone number. I can understand if people just like it…as in, they don’t need to eat it every day. But to say that you DON’T LIKE chocolate. Dude, there is something wrong with you. It’s unnatural and I’m sure it’s frowned upon in the medical industry.

I’ll never understand…Why men can’t be honest.
See, the thing with animals is that their behavior is somewhat automated. They eat, they shit and they sleep and that’s pretty much it. They don’t cheat on their mating-partners and lie etc. So why can’t men be the same? Why do they always have to deviate from the truth. A couple of years ago, at my discovery or realisation of this phenomenon, I shared my hypothesis with few of my friends…told them that I've discovered that men are natural pathological liars, whether they do so intentionally or not, and they didn’t believe me. Said I was being cynical. But today, as I write this, every single one of them have told me it’s the truth. Every single man, from your father to your husband will lie to you about some or other insignificant thing at some point in time. It’s just the way they are...the way the male species has been genetically programmed to operate. It’s human nature.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Sounds Good To Me

I’ve always been a city girl at heart and I guess I always will be, but these past few days I’ve come to the realisation that I want to live by the sea. Well let me be specific because I’m not talking Durban’s North Coast here…I’m talking small-seaside-town…quiet-dreamy-sun-drenched days filled with the sound of the waves and wind chimes in the distance and gorgeous sunsets and balmy evenings under the stars. Now THAT’S the life I want. Those squa-jillions better start rolling in, beachfront property costs a fortune! Let me see if Google can help me explain it…


This is it, right here...all my hopes and dreams in this picture. I'd even get married to the right man for it:



In other news, its girls weekend…which in simple terms means good conversation mixed with lots of food, dessert, chick flicks, pillows, blankets, pranks and other entertainment guaranteed to have us laughing all weekend long. The last time I had a decent girl’s weekend was in London:


Nothing like some good company to melt away the hours. Have a great one :D

Wednesday, July 22, 2009

Super Stalker

Because I'm highly pissed off these days (like PISSED y'know. I'm talking seething-fire-spitting-smoke-exhaling-mammoth-hell-hath-no-fury-like-Azra-scorned proportions here); for reasons that I can't even vent about on this page (I'll share at a later stage when it's been resolved, I promise); I've decided to venture away from my blood-drenched evil thoughts long enough to talk about my stalker issues.

Hello. My name is Azra and I've always been a stalker, for as long as I can remember. For all I know, I could have invented the concept. I'm not even going to lie and say that I'm a closet stalker because I've always been very open about it. I just can’t resist the thrill that a good stalking session gives me and I only stalk people that I really like, I swear. I’ve become so good at it, that I can stalk anyone, anywhere...regardless of certain pesky variable constraints like time and geographical borders.

The really funny part is that I always find what, or should I say who I’m looking for, and I don’t even know how I do it. The only pre-requisite to one of my stalker-episodes is that the subject should be enticing enough for me to want to pursue the dreary ritual of garnering little tidbits of information…it’s like running a comb through sea sand, looking for that one grain that stands out from the rest.

Now I don’t twit or tweet…not for any specific reason other than I find it a tad bit tedious (I find it hard enough to update my Facebook status ok, and have been reduced to posting lyrics from the songs stuck in my head…or whatever my iPod coughs up), but I must say that this application has worked wonders for the stalker industry. And since I still haven’t convinced a few people that I’m completely Twit-less (they reckon that I should get about Tweeting ASAP), I’ve decided to reconsider Twi-volution after my latest stalking spree proved to be both amusing and informative.

So there I was, rummaging through Donnie Wahlberg’s commentary and Jonathan Knight’s updates on twitter when I came across these messages posted by Jonathan:

7:50 AM Jul 19th from UberTwitter: Happy Birthday to the one who started me on this journey... Love you Mom, see you tonight!

Then barely 8 hours later:


4:14 PM Jul 19th from UberTwitter: To the girls that just showed up at my mother’s door..... Not cool! I haven't seen her in 15 months and don't feel you need to intrude!

At this point I was LOL-ing. Rolling about laughing my ass off, because had I been there, I wouldn’t have went immediately, I would have waited for at least a day…stalker mistake number 1.

But the really entertaining bit for me were in these messages:


5:11 AM Jul 18th from UberTwitter: I think you’re a bit early for the show! It doesn't start for another 12 hours. I see you all hiding in the bushes you weirdo's!

5:12 AM Jul 18th from UberTwitter: Stop trying to look normal. All I see is psycho!

5:23 AM Jul 18th from UberTwitter: Oh how I love twitter! They are holding up a sign saying “not weirdos or psychos, just fans”.

The proliferation of twitter coupled with its user-friendly interface has given rise to the phenomenon of what I like to call "celeb-twats"…because every Tom, Dick and Mary, regardless of their stature in the entertainment business seems to be twittering about, tweeting all kinds of intimate details of their lives. They make it so easy don’t they? I still love Jonathan *sigh* :D

Thursday, July 16, 2009

What Women Say & What They Really Mean

I told the OH that I’d attempt a response to his post about “what men say and what they really mean”. I emphasize the word attempt because it’s a known fact that women are much more intelligent than men, which subsequently makes us more dynamic and diverse in nature. Hence, what women may say and what they may actually mean would differ from woman to woman…whereas, it’s pretty standard amongst most men.

So at this juncture, I’d like to enforce my disclaimer and state that these are generalized versions of what women may say compared to what they may actually mean. I’ve never been married and I’m no authority on this subject, so all my responses are based on various individuals in conversations that I may have had or overheard. Please note that situations and reactions may differ significantly from woman to woman.

We say: I just want to be friends.
We mean: Dude, I’d rather date a monkey…you and me ain’t happening EVER.

We say: You’re such a nice guy.
We mean: For someone else, unfortunately you’re not my type and I’m not interested.

We say: No I don’t mind if we live with your parents in their huge empty house, because your Mother insisted…
We mean: That fucking sneaky manipulative bitch.

We say: I’ll be ready in 5 minutes.
We mean: You want a trophy-supermodel to parade around with your inflated ego. This hair does not do itself, so you’ll just have to wait the usual 90 minutes.

We say: I don’t know, when was the last time you had your car keys/phone/watch?
We mean: What am I? A Psychic? How the hell am I supposed to know where you leave your shit.

We say: I love your mother.
We mean: As much as I love a dog with rabies.

We say: I love having your friends over.
We mean: WTF, are they homeless? I’m not the bloody maid. Why don’t they just move in and you can sleep with them.

We say: Does this make me look fat?
We mean: If you can’t give me a decent compliment, you’re going to sleep with the dogs tonight you son-of-a-bitch.

We say: She’s pretty, isn’t she?
We mean: If you even DARE look in her direction, I’m going to dig your fucking eyes out with this spoon.

We say: Your friend’s are cool.
We mean: If you dropped dead tomorrow, that tall one is mine.

We say: I have a headache.
We mean: You’re not getting any tonight, and if you look at me like that again, you’ll never get any for the rest of your life.

We say: Are you going out fishing/to watch the game with the guys?
We mean: When are you leaving, I’m tired of your nagging ass. I need some alone time.

We say: What do you want for dinner?
We mean: You better tell me because the last time you said “I don’t know” you whined like a bitch for three days because I made baked beans.

We say: You look gorgeous.
We mean: Either: I really want those platinum diamond earrings I saw at American Swiss OR: Let me stroke that fragile ego and build that self esteem so that you can stop sulking like a 2 year old boy whose pet just died.

We say: A microwave for my birthday, how nice.
We mean: Are you retarded? Guess I won’t be needing that lingerie tonight.

We say: Do you know what day it is?
We mean: You better remember you bastard, your entire sex life depends on this.

We say: Nothing’s wrong, it’s fine.
We mean: If you can’t recognise that I’m NOT fine and if you DON’T try to make it better, I’m going to throw this in your face at every argument/fight we may have for the next 20 years.

I'm sure there are plenty of other responses and comments that I may have left out.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Que Sera Sera

"Destiny conceals strange illuminations in the suffering life visits on us. The tale of fate is entangled with mysteries. Dare one say such and such shouldn't have happened? History is replete with monstrosities that shouldn't have happened. But they did, and we are what we are because they did. And history's bizarre seeding has not yet yielded all of it's harvest. Who knows what events will mean in the future of time? In the presence of great things glimpsed in life, one can only be silent and humble. The ultimate meaning of it all is beyond the human mind. All one can say is this has happened. Make of it what you will."

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Happily Never After

I met with an old friend the other day, a meeting that has left me somewhat disturbed. I met Rehana 4 years ago through Aquila, a mutual friend. She was a wreck at the time and used to cry every day for like a month, apologising profusely for her emotional outbursts. Her boyfriend, or what she called “the love of her life” at that time, had left her and she was DEVASTATED. Fortunately, time heals all wounds, or in Rehana’s case, wrapped a bandage around it long enough for her to return to the vivacious fun-loving woman she was before I met her. There was a time where we had loads of fun, travelling around and just enjoying life.

Then one day Rehana turned 30. I was barely 24 at the time and all my friends were a good few years older than I was, so for me turning 30 was cool. But Rehana didn’t think so. She was a 30 year old single female; a definite no-no in a society that validates your worth as an individual based on whether or not you have an appendage in the form of a male-person permanently glued to your side. She became depressed, and the crying resumed especially during our girls nights when we got together to watch sappy chick flicks. There was nothing either of us could tell her to calm her fears or reassure her that everything was going to be fine…that she’d meet the right one someday.

Eventually, things took a turn for the worst and she became desperate…and I mean DESPERATE. She attracted every breed of frog known to mankind. Unfortunately for her, none of them were Princes. They were but amphibians out of their natural habitats. At the time, I couldn’t believe it…I couldn’t believe that there was so much scum masquerading on earth as "men", co-existing with us in the same environment. She met each guy with new hope that this was IT…that he’d be “the one”…and every time, she was sorely disappointed. It turned out that every “He” was never IT and most certainly NOT “the one”. I felt terrible for her. She was bright, funny, attractive…she had everything but something was just not clicking.

Then one day, after a year or so of her antics and escapades with snakes and reptiles alike, she met Taariq who was a year older than her and also looking for a serious relationship. At first, she was trepidatious and sceptical about pursuing a relationship with someone like him because he didn’t quite tick all the boxes on her mental list of expectations of what “the one” should look and act like. But she was DESPERATE, and desperate times call for desperate measures…so they say.

They got to know each other over a couple of months and while their relationship was rocky and tumultuous at times and even though I had never met him at that point, he seemed to provide for her the security and stability that she had wanted and needed for all the time I’ve known her. It was not long after that, that I lost touch with her…until a few days ago.

To say that I was shocked is an understatement. She’s still the same spirited and lively woman I’ve always known but it’s somewhat masked and hidden behind a more austere and erudite veneer. I was taken aback at first, she seemed to be a shadow of her former self…but it wasn’t long before we were re-acquainted and all semblance of her façade dissipated temporarily. Over the course of a few days, we chatted a lot, trying to cram in 4 years of news and stories and I finally met Taariq, who is now her husband.

Strangely enough, it was in getting to know him that I recognised the change in her. I could see all the traces of his influence down to the very marrow in her bones. She admitted at some point that while she loved him, she didn't really love him...not the way she loved "the love of her life". She is comfortable in her life with him and that's what she needs. There was a lot that was left unsaid and my encounter with them both left me with the following conclusion:

The way I see it, most people don't fall in love with other people...they fall in love with the outcome of being in a relationship with that person and what that person can offer/give them. For some people, their partners offer them good looks which is a source of self esteem and validation for themselves. For others like Rehana (who grew up with a father who was emotionally, physically and financially absent from her life), their partners offer them the financial security and emotional stability they've been craving for all their lives. Ultimately, most people fall in love with those characteristics or aspects of life that compensate for what they lack in themselves, which they identify in others.

These days Rehana doesn’t like Pizza because Taariq doesn’t like Pizza…the same Pizza she couldn’t live without when we hung out. She also doesn’t listen to the music she used to love because he hates it, nor does she ride those rollercoaster’s we once had to pry her butt off...because he’s afraid of heights. She has changed every single thing that made her an individual, that made her HER, to fit into his reality because she'd rather do that than be alone.

I couldn’t believe that this is the same girl I once knew. And she's just one of many people in a similar predicament. Is this what a relationship or marriage does to you, leave you crippled by your own insecurities, forcing you to become a societal drone? I always knew that people change when they get married…but to change who you are intrinsically, is that the price one has to pay to adhere to society’s expectations? Do you compromise who you are as a person so that you don’t have to be alone? Are people so desperate, that they are willing to sell their souls and give up their favourite Pizza, all in the quest for the ever elusive and unobtainable happily ever after?

If such is the case and if this is true, then I’m steadfast and adamant in my resolution that this world and such is not for the likes of me. I can not coherently and adequately express my disappointment and disillusionment at present.

Monday, July 13, 2009

Transforming

I have to admit that I’m not a “Transformers” fan…not in the least. It’s too…ummm…technical for me. Or should I say mechanical, unrealistic and pointless. It’s the cliché good versus evil thing…only it’s with cars that turn into fighting machines…the ultimate boy-toy dream topped with a Megan Fox cherry. My cue to *YAWN*.

Unfortunately, I’m not into girls and I don’t get how or why the Autobots would want to save the world from the Decepticons when neither have anything to do with earth…they’re not residents, they’re not even visiting on tourist visas. I could barely keep my eyes open for the first one and I definitely don’t have the sequel down on my list of must-see-movies.

Regardless of the spectacle CGI on steroids, I still think that this is very cool…from an artistic point of view. Came across this artist in Dublin but couldn’t quite capture the remarkable detail in his work through the bloody window. Now THIS is talent! It's built entirely from car parts...it's the real deal. To check out more awesome figurines, go to http://www.robosteel.com/




Wednesday, July 8, 2009

The "Others"

I spent a few days staying with Adriana in Camden Town, North London. I’ve known her for ages; she’s one of my closest friends and a real-life angel on earth. Yeah, I didn’t know they existed either, until I met her. She currently rents a room in a huge house that belongs to her congregation…the Luther-Tyndale Memorial Church.

The church is incidentally and conveniently located right down the road from the house. I slept on the most comfortable mattress I’ve ever slept on, EVER, strategically placed on the floor of her bedroom; on loan from one of her flat-mates. I met Adriana’s delightful flat-mates the same day I arrived. Among them were 3 Australians, 1 American, 1 Danish and a middle-aged American couple that were bunking in the lounge in the midst of their British holiday.

That evening, all the flat mates sans American couple were bonding over pancakes and Nutella – Adriana’s specialty – and it wasn’t long before we were all chatting like we’ve known each other for years. I think they found me particularly amusing, with my special imported brand of crazy and they were all quite charming and delightful too.

The next day Caitlyn, the American, asked if she could join Adriana and me-self on one of our expeditions to Covent Garden. And so off we went, thre stooges/musketeers walking around eyeing the infinite number of shimmering trinkets and different pieces of art and make-shift gadgets on display before we made our way to one of my favourite joints, Café Nero.
Sipping on hot chocolate and latte’s, we soon got chatting about all things South African and American and other stuff in between, including religion.

Caitlyn happens to be the Deaconess at the church…which, if I understand correctly, is one step below being a Pastor. She deals extensively with the community and any issues that individuals may have…in simple terms, she’s like a Counsellor. I was quite surprised at how little she knew about South Africa and Islam in general but encouraged her to ask any questions (we all live and learn) and proceeded to educate her on the basics. We talked at length about everything and anything, often excluding Adriana who seemed to be miles away on her BlackBerry. We compared notes on the differences and the similarities and I think she was quite stunned at the fact that we were more the same then we were different.

In a lame analogy, we’re all (& I mean Human-kind in general) kinda like these Potato Chips:

London

South Africa

Same packaging. Same flavouring. Different name. Opposite colours. But essentially, more the same than different. We only create the notion of "other-ness" in our minds by remaining ignorant.

Adriana had to work the next day, but Caitlyn re-arranged her work schedule and spent a lot of time with me in the few days before my departure. I think we shared more in those three days, than most people do in their entire lives.


THANK YOU’S
I’d like to send a HUGE Thank You to the Luther-Tyndale Memorial Church for accomodating a Muslim in their household (for FREE) and allowing this Muslim to practice openly, whilst respecting and adhering to my Islamic needs (and not trying to convert me :D). Lovely people they are.


Thank You to all the lovely people I came into contact with…I’m sure your presence in my life, however brief, has enhanced it somehow.

Thank You to Dublin University for providing us with stellar accomodation during our stay in Ireland.

A thank you to that very nice (and gorgeous) Italian gentleman who carried all my luggage up and down all those stairs at the Tube Station on my way to Heathrow.

Thank You to the Airport staff at British Airways for not weighing my hand luggage.

Thank You to Kelly Osbourn, for making my 4 hour wait at the airport an entertaining one.

Thank You London, for another memorable experience.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

It's All About The Cheese

So I thought about sharing a few of the 1256 photos I took over the last four weeks, but to be honest, I can’t be bothered, it’s just too much work and I don’t have the time at present. Then I scrolled through Geeki Siddiqui’s blog last night and saw that he had already done my work for me, because we managed to visit the exact same places on two different trips, just a couple of weeks apart. So if anyone wants to see more photos, go to my Facebook page or just check out Geeki’s blog.

Somebody asked me, one day, why and what exactly did I like about London. My answer was simple; unlimited possibilities and opportunities. Nothing seems impossible when you’re in London. NOTHING. Literally everything and anything is in your grasp. All you need to do is be determined, extend your right hand, take what you want, and surely you will succeed. That’s the beauty of a first world country. If you want to study, there are ample means to do so even if you don’t have the money. If you want to delve into the arts and the world of theatre, there are various options you can explore. Even if you want to be an Astronaut, there is a way to make it happen with enough determination and minimal effort. Want to change your career? Just click your fingers; it’s as easy as that.

This concept of unlimited possibilities and opportunities is very appealing to someone whose fundamental requirement in life is “Freedom”, as I’ve mentioned before. Coming from a borderline third-world country, attaining anything is somewhat of an issue. Most people in a country like South Africa have to go that extra mile or ten, to get what they want. It’s just that much more difficult to achieve anything with the limited resources and opportunities we have. That’s not to say that it’s impossible. Au contraire…anything is possible if you put your mind to it. All I’m saying is that in a country like SA, it’s just that much more difficult.

Britons don’t realise how lucky they are. They are spoilt for choice and have everything on their doorstep, all they need is the sufficient amount of ambition required to actually go and open the door.

There are other various reasons that I love Britain, and London in particular. For example:

Variety…

So you can get like 86 variations of Baked Beans...and well, every other product you can think of...from cakes to detergents, household items to skin care treatments...you name it.


Freedom of artistic expression…
So you feel like channeling your inner-canine for the day. Hey, as long as it doesnt break the law, it's fair game.

No pressure to conform or colour co-ordinate…

So you want to wear purple sandles with a blue over-all thingy. No one is judging you. You can wear your PJ's in public, with hot-curlers in your hair and thick fluffy slippers with monkey faces on them and no one will give a fuck. Seriously.


Quality of life…forget about the standard 2 ply toilet paper (because we have 2 ply too, although it’s not standard). I’m talking about the 35 hour weeks and 2 hour lunch breaks. And the after work socials. Only the French beat that with their 30 hour weeks.

But I have to state…that the food in South Africa is WAAAAYYY better than anything I’ve ever eaten in Britain. That’s where we knock them out of the park. Homerun. And everyone who has ever been, will agree with me.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Traipse, Trot & Trek

I ran. That’s what I did…for most of my holiday. When I wasn’t running to catch the bus, I was running to get the tube, and my flight too. And boy I’m one good runner, but not so much in the sprint category…more like long-distance-endurance running. I’ve got the stamina for it; a biological skill cultivated over those times I had to put up with enormous amounts of shit from the assholes in my life. It’s just another thing on my very short and limited list of things I can do very well.

And so I ran…and when I wasn’t running, I ate. And when I wasn’t eating, I laughed. And when I wasn’t laughing, I slept. And when I wasn’t sleeping, I conversed. And when I wasn’t talking, I just sat still and took in the ambience of the place. Yeah, great times were had and I got to meet with a lot of my friends, as well as with a lovely Sofia and an interesting Mash, and this delightful and talented one. I also met various other interesting individuals who are non-bloggers. My only regret is that I couldn’t meet with ALL of my friends in London because a lot of them were on holiday and others were reveling in their out-of-towness.

Since I’ve already seen every major tourist attraction in London, TWICE, I decided to do things a little differently on this holiday.

Hence, the holiday check-list:

Endure the mandatory holiday drama of sisters baggage left in Dubai CHECK

Run into the arms of my dearests, like they be lost loves from a cheesy chick flick CHECK

Connect with the global community of bloggers and chatting non-stop CHECK

Laugh my arse off on a daily basis at random people and events CHECK

Get lost on the way to Regents Park Mosque, then ensuring that attire is appropriate outside the mosque before entering CHECK

Go all the way to bloody Queens Park to have 5 of the best BBQ chicken wings at that particular Chicken Cottage CHECK
Compete with Lola in an epic running for the bus contest from Edgeware to Maida Vale CHECK

Go to an underground Salsa club and be an affront to anything that’s sacred to the Latino community by acting like royal fools on the dance floor and laughing hysterically in the process CHECK

Chat extensively to handsome strangers on the bus about nothing in particular CHECK
Imitate every variation of the British accent while chatting to random locals CHECK

Go to Harrods for a hot-off-the-press original glazed Krispy Kreme donut, the best ever CHECK

Pretend to be a resident in the posh and pretentious suburb of Richmond CHECK

Smell the plastic burning at Amazon.co.uk CHECK

Gallivant in Wales, Ireland and Scotland via bus, train, plane and ferry CHECK

Trek to inconsequential places like Swanley in the rolling hills of Kent to buy groceries and oogle the gorgeous bus drivers CHECK

Fall asleep at South Bank while gazing at the river and a brassed-out mime dressed in medieval gear CHECK


Finally FINALLY find the cheesecake I’ve been craving for all these months CHECK

Converse pleasantly over Shisha/Hookah at another underground joint CHECK

Club hop in London, wanting to sleep just after midnight and realizing we’re getting too old to stay out until the early hours of the morning CHECK

Visit old haunts and reminisce about the good ol days CHECK
Stalk Britney Spears then losing interest CHECK

Pretend to be a celebrity at Primark on Oxford Street CHECK

Get mistaken (several times) for being a native from either Egypt, Mexico, Spain, Morrocco, Brazil and India by the strangers talking to me in Arabic, Spanish, Portuguese and Hindi CHECK

Involuntarily walking/running at least 10km a day CHECK

Get chased by the schizophrenic squirrels in Hyde Park CHECK

Throw a surprise Hen party for a good friend CHECK

Have Pringles for lunch on more than one occasion CHECK

Map out the British edition of Girls Behaving Badly: High on London CHECK

Eat a monster econo-burger that leaves you satiated for two days CHECK

Watch the sun set at 09:22pm and the skyline get dark around 10pm CHECK

Partake in an ice-cream eating competition with the girls, 3 Magnums each, and wanting to keel over and puke after the second one CHECK

Melt in the summer heat and in the tube CHECK

Eat the best chocolate in Ireland CHECK

Meander around aimlessly, in a bubble of nonchalance and dreamyness CHECK

Yeah, all in a nutshell. More detailed stories to come...

Saturday, July 4, 2009

All The Single Ladies...

This is my favourite advertisement on South African TV at the moment...especially for my overseas friends.



This song has been the butt of so many jokes. I hope its accessible to other countries.

Friday, July 3, 2009

The Power Of Words

On the 10th of June at precisely 10:07PM, I happened to update my Facebook status to "There's change in the air. I can feel it". If only I knew how prophetic my words were. In fact, most of my words of late have been quite powerful words that manifest themselves into real life scenarios. Now if only I could start using more functional and constructive words like “There should be a couple million lying around in my bank account”, then I won’t feel compelled to want to pour hot wax down my back after every manifestation, cursing and stating that I should have wished for a million bucks instead. I should actually start charging for my words, my random comments or verbal thoughts and haul out a fake crystal ball while I’m at it.

So I go away for 3 weeks and in that time the world as I knew it literally changed forever. I’m talking colossal unexpected changes. Changes that include an unexpected new direction in my career, a new University, life in a new country perhaps and Michael Jackson’s death.

And yeah, his death was a major shock for me, I still can’t believe it. It’s Princess Diana all over again...one of those events where everyone remembers where they were and what they were doing at the time when they found out. It marks the end of an era and I was genuinely sad and even a little miffed. Miffed at the people who vilified him, ripping him to shreds when he was alive…then doing a complete 180˚, sanctifying and glorifying him when he’s dead. What a fucked up fickle world we live in. I really do hate this world.

Anyways, ever since I was teeny weeny itty bitty, I was a Michael Jackson fan. I didn’t have Barney and his moronic friends. I didn’t have Ben 10 or a virginal Britney Spears. I didn’t have Hannah-fucking-Montana or the High School Musical cast clamouring for my attention. All I had was Michael Jackson, his music and moves and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It was us against the world and I’ve been a fan ever since. Even when he became weird and somewhat dodgy, and even when my interest in him waned and I adopted other additional likes and interests, I was still a fan because I’m loyal like that. I have my own opinions on who Michael Jackson the real man was, based on extensive reading into his life, analysis of his behavioural characteristics, my own psychological readings and perspectives…and perhaps I’ll share them in another post.

I think what really hit home about his death was that the perception or illusion that the King of Pop would always be King was shattered. That he wasn’t Invincible…like the title of his 10th and last album stated. I guess the world thought that there’ll always be a Michael Jackson, that he’d never go away…that he was somewhat immortal. His death was a rude awakening in that regard, a reminder to us all that no one is invincible, reminding us of our own mortality. No doubt about it, the man was a legend in his art and there will never be another to replace him or even come close to his artistic genius. He gave us words in the form of stories, attached to melodies and acted out in his slick effortless choreography. And all of his words are still worth millions, even more so after his demise. His words will forever echo in history…words and stories like this one.

I have a million British Pounds Sterling somewhere…just throwing that in for good measure :)

Oh yeah, and I think I should add that I DON’T CARE WHAT EVERYONE ELSE HAS TO SAY ABOUT HIM, especially the haters. I don’t care about the rumours, the allegations, the jokes, the harsh words, the nonchalance, the opinions, the hate, whether he was Muslim or not etc.

There’s a song by the Commodores called “Nightshift”, initially a tribute to the late Marvin Gaye and Jackie Wilson who both died in 1984. The meaning behind the lyrics seems apt:

Marvin, he was a friend of mine
And he could sing a song
His heart in every line
Marvin sang of the joy and pain
He opened up our minds
And I still can hear him say
Aw talk to me so you can see
What's going on
Say you will sing your songs
Forevermore (evermore)

Gonna be some sweet sounds
Coming down on the nightshift
I bet you're singing proud
Oh I bet you'll pull a crowd
Gonna be a long night
It's gonna be all right
On the nightshift
Oh you found another home
I know you're not alone
On the nightshift…

… Gonna miss your sweet voice
That soulful voice
On the nightshift
We all remember you
Ooh the songs are coming through
At the end of a long day
It's gonna be okay
On the nightshift
You found another home
I know you're not alone
On the nightshift

Oh well, only Allah SWT knows…

My holiday? Three words. Too bloody short! A whirlwind of amazing-ness…details and pics coming soon. Just know that I'M BACK baby, full of life, ready to hit this mother out of the park, grabbing the bull by his balls *ahem* and horns, spitting in the face of convention, NOT politically correct, robust, fire in my spirit and steel in my veins…oh yeah, and that I have a couple million British Pounds coming my way soon!