LOYALTY

I've come to a point where enough is enough.

 

Loyalty is an interesting thing. People who are loyal tend to expect the same returned to them and it can be quite a nasty shock when it's not returned.

 

The thing about me is that I have this thing of trying to keep everyone happy and if by chance I somehow disappoint someone, I try to make it up to them. Even if you don't think so, I do try keep the peace. Mush of my time is really bending over backwards to make sure that I'm not offending anyone.

 

Quit frankly, it's tiring. It's extremely tiring listen to people go one and on about things I have to do. In reality I don't HAVE TO DO ANYTHING. Everyone listen LOUD AND CLEAR. I do not have to do what YOU think is right.

 

I think I've finally learnt that no one is loyal to anyone but themselves. Faith in people is over rated. the idea that people will be nice just cos it's a basic human dignity is tooo much to expect.

 

 

and for the record. I don;t have to be nice to anyone. i'm nice becasue it's my choice. I can just as easily choose not to.

think

Every South African blog has at some point or another discussed
something that relates to race and the various never ending issues
that surround it. I've done a few posts from what I'd like to think of
as a unique perspective.

On Friday I found something new to be annoyed about and something that
has changed part of my perspective on the whole race deal. The lovely
Indian car guard helped the white lady with a teenage daughter and the
white guy who had a stack of beer. He left me to my devices and only
came to stand at my car for the customary car guard tip which I'm sure
he felt he was entitled to. After all I'm Indian and supposed to help
a brother out. Never mind that I had to do everything myself

I have no idea where some people picked up the idea that certain race
groups are some how better than all the races on the planet and it
really irks me when I see some Indian people turn around stick out
their backsides out. A good friend often says that we teach people how
to treat us. If we call the annoying friend that only ever sends
PLEASE CALL ME's, you encourage that behaviour. No one to blame but
yourself.

You stick your backside out and you're gonna get swatted.

Perhaps you think that I'm the last who should speak after all I
regularly make an effort to ensure that life is easier for one of
them. But the situation in itself irks me. Who is in the right?
Perhaps the whole group of people out there will tell you that they're
doing what they think is right.

I recall reading a article by some guy from India who thanked
colonialism and the British for the life that he has. After all
without the British, he argues that he never would have had the fine
education that he got or every other supposedly "good" thing in his
life. But one must question if the British in fact added value to any
one's life. It's an interesting arguments and while I do think it's
important to give credit where credit is due, I think we must also
remember that hundreds of people lived their lives just fine before
the Britain came along.

Have we lost some sense of ourselves along the way? When we are soo
eager to bend over backwards to please someone based soley on the
colour of their skin?

VOLDERMORT

The little Lord Voldermort

Hero Fiennes-Tiffin is the young nephew of the adult Voldermort. According the Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince director David Yates, Hero was chosen based on his resemblance to his famous uncle.

The Harry Potter franchise seems as though it's coming to an end. And despite publishers die hard attempts, Twilight is NOT a worth successor. The book trade however will survive.

Who knows when the next big thing will arive.

Hero here however seems to emobody all of my personal ideals of what the young Tom Riddle would have been like.

Here's hoping the movie captures the best part of the book. Previous movies have left out some stuff and been disappointing.

Let's not revisit the book vs movie debate

COKE zero FEST

feat

OASIS

I've been a fan of Oasis for almost a decade. The first song I remember is Champagne Supernova and from there it was only all the way up. I've changed alot since hearing those first lyrics but my love for the band and their music has not changed.


It's been a battle of wills to get to the place where I have both plane ticket and GOLDEN CIRCLE concert ticket but eventually my love of life won out. After all who knows if i'm ever gonna have the chance to see oasis live in concert ever again. This may be my one and only chance and like I told my mother

"I don't want to be 50, look back and see that I had the chance and didn't take it"

So I fly up on the morning of the concert, go straight to the venue, ROCK OUT to the brilliant bands then maybe/maybe not head straight back to the airport for a 7am flight back to Durban.

It's gonna be a HECTIC 24 hours. I LOVE IT

The Slumdog debate

Slumdog Millionaire is an award winning movie based on award winning book.

The movie vs. the book debate has been around since the first movie based on a book. Sadly we live in a society where most people would rather see the movie than read the book. Personally for me, a book has so much more detail. And you never quite get a character in a movie the same way you do in a book. A movie is around 2 hours now. It’s not nearly long enough to get in-depth with the idiosyncrasies of the characters or really get up close and personal with them.

Q & A (the book upon which the movie is based) is beautifully written story. Poetic almost in the way it flows between the adventures of Ram Thomas Mohammed.
Slumdog is beautiful in its own way, cinematography and editing at its finest. The movie helps showcase an India that not many have seen other than on the pages of National Geographic.

For myself however, I can’t help but feel that the book provided a bit more of an intelligent feel than the movie. Vikas Swarup the author of Q & A is at present stationed in Pretoria as India's Deputy High Commissioner to South Africa. On the other side of the picture is director Danny Boyle, well known for Trainspotting and Shallow Graves. There’s distinct feel to this movie that isn’t in the books. The movie transcends intellectual boundaries and is an everyman’s movie. The book just felt more thinker’s cup of tea to me.


I’m aware that I sound like an intellectual snob. Oops if you have a problem with it.


While on the subject of books vs. movie...

Has anyone seen twilight? Bella Swan is an abused female. She must be STOPPED.

19 March

Supposedly Highveld Stereo did a who a while ago mocking Indians.

 

RACISM.

 

The one thing we all have in common.  Having never heard the show I don’t that I’m in any position to comment and really what can I say that has not already been said on the forum’s of Biz Community.

I do however think that the Indian community of South Africa got a raw deal. Speak like “an Indian” and you get made fun off or looked at funny, speak like a “white”  and you’re trying TOOO hard.

 

A never ending really sad cycle.

 

I’ve been reading over old blog posts today. I went back to MAY 2007 when dearest anonymous told me that my posts were pathetic and I’m wondering if somehow and somewhere along the way, I changed the way I write because of ANON the Cockroach. I’m not sure I have. I most certainly hope I have not.

 

It’s getting colder which mean better sleep. I can’t wait for the really cold days to hit us. I’m waiting eagerly for Lindt Hot Chocolate. I’ll miss ice cream though.  This is a random post cos I have time and have not posted for a while.

 

As always I usually have plenty to say but when it come  to the crunch it all flies out my head.

ALL THINGS .....

... work together for the good of those who love God-those whom he has called according to his plan.

Perhaps I'm being a bit over spiritual but in the last fer months I've learnt to just let it lie. I'm by no means perfect. I still stress over stuff. I still get upset by people's stupid comments. At the end of the day I still sometimes feel like I'm wearing a blue and white check dress with a white belt, white socks and no idea about why things happen the way they do.

but as i've been told oer and over again.

ALL THING work together for the good of those who love God.

This week was a particular crazy one. I worked really hard on a proposal. Perhaps it's the three months of having been at home and the crazyness of not knowing how and where I stand in my new job. (I am standing though) that has lead me to not be performing at my optimimum best.

Despite that my proposal was not bad. The sad thing is that it was handed over by someone else as their work. I should be used to that. In fact there are lot of thing I should be used to BUT I'm not.

Perhaps I'm naive. trusting people to always to the right thing.

who knows.

 

Sometimes in my life I feel like I have arrived. Sitting pretty where I want to be and moving in the general direction of forward.

 

And then there are times where I feel like the carpet has been pulled out from under my feet and it was a magic flying carpet and now I’m free falling at an alarming rate.

 

At times like those I’m grateful for Jeremiah 29:11

 

valentines day

Valentine's day is just around the corner and while the world gets to ready to paint the town red. I sit here in quiet contemplation of love and what it means. Valentines Day is all very good and well, but like most things has become far tooo commercial.

A friends asked me what I was doing for valentines day this year and my reply was that "I don't do valentines day, it's the female equivalent of  "BIG *ENIS SYNDROME"

You're probably wondering what I could possible mean by that. It's actually very simple. It gives women the chance to boast about who got the most roses/ chocolates / teddy bears / underwear or what ever else is associated with Valentines Day. For me I'd rather get a gift because my husband wanted to buy me one rather than because he was following the conventions society has set out for us and has to buy me something.


But that's for me PERSONALLY, on the other hand I do see the value in Valentine's Day. Not all men are thoughtful enough to present their wives with roses or little gifts for seemingly insignificant reasons. Sometimes just to see them smile. For those wives, Valentines Day is a chance to actually have their husband demonstrate their appreciation for them, even if it forced and for that reason we must give credit where credit is due.

But for me and myself, Valentines Day is nothing special, not many than any other day anyway. And before all the men out there, point out this post as a reason to not get their wives/ girlfriends something for Valentines Day, sit back and ask yourself when last you did something for your significant other that warrants you ignoring Valentines Day. Women shouldn't only get to brag about the gifts they get once a year.

After all "big *enis pride" doesn't only happen on once a year.


And before you ask I got chocolates a week ago just because.
 

UN ... Christian Bale

I am disappointed in Christian who does not live up to his name.

But at the same time I think we need to take the situation in context. All we really have is this audio clip of Christian Bale making some sailors blush but we have no idea about how many times he had to do the scene or the time of day or any number of other things that may have set the lispy actor off on a tangent.



But all of that is un-important when it comes to the next thing on my LIVE LIFE list. One that I have not actually complied. It's more of a yes man thing. Take the time to experience things that you may not have considered. So with this in mind I went to Sexpo.

let's put it this way.

MOMENTS OF MY LIFE I WILL NEVER GET BACK.

Now that I've done it once, I can miss it for the rest of my life. I guess I imagined more. It was weired seeing some of the same people there from last year's food and wine show at the sex show. But then I guess you have to eat as well.


So I went to sexpo and came home with a pair of neon pink fish nets.

let's move on shall we.

the inter-racial debate ... from another perspective

I found this while doing random reading. I think it's got a good point.

READ IF YOU DARE!!!!

Dear Jamie I'm sorry but I would like to challenge some of your Indian male readers. I am a White female who is engaged to a Indian male-good-looking, educated and loving. I just don't understand a lot of Indian female's attitudes about our relationship. My man decided he wanted me because the pickings amongst Indian women were slim to none. As he said they were either too fat, too loud, too mean, too argumentative, too needy, too materialistic or carrying too much excess baggage. Before I became engaged, whenever I went out I was constantly Approached by Indian men, willing to wine and dine me and give me the world. If Indian women are so up in arms about us being with their men, why don't they look at themselves and make some changes. I am tired of the dirty looks I get and snide remarks when we're out in public. I would like to hear from some Indian men about why we are so appealing and coveted by them. Bryant Gumbel left his wife of 26 years for one of us. Charles Barkley, Scottie Pippen, the model Tyson Beckford, Montell Williams, Quincy Jones, James Earl Jones, Harry Belafonte, Sydney Poitier, Kofi Anan, Cuba Gooding Jr., Don Cornelius, Berry Gordy, Billy Blanks, Wesley Snipes... I could go on and on. But, right now, I'm a little angry and that is Why I wrote this so hurriedly. Don't be mad with us, White women, Because so many of your men want us. Get your acts together and learn from us And we may lead you to treat your men better. If I'm wrong, Indian men, Let me know.

Thanx-Disgusted White Girl,
Somewhere in VA!!!!

RESPONSE

Dear Jamie: I would like to respond to the letter written by A Disgusted White Girl. Let me start by saying that I am a 28-year old Indian man. I Graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in Atlanta, Georgia With a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Business Management. I have a good job at A major corporation and have recently purchased a house. So, I Consider myself to be among the ranks of successful Indian men. I will not use my precious time to slander white people. I just want to set the record straight of why Indian men date white women. Back in the day, one of the biggest reasons why Indian men dated white women was because they were considered easy. The Indian girls in my neighborhood were raised in strict homes. They were very strict about when they lost their virginity and who they lost it to. Because of our mpatience to wait, brothers would look for someone who would give it up easy without too much hassle. So, they turned to the white girls. Nowadays, in my opinion, a lot of brothers date white women because they are docile and easy to control. A lot of Indian men, because of insecurities, fears, and overall weaknesses, have become intimidated by the strength of our Indian women. We are afraid that our woman will be more successful than us, make more money than us, drive nicer cars and own bigger houses. Because of this fear, many Indian men look for a more docile woman. Someone We can control. I have talked to numerous Indian men and they continuously comment on how easy it is to control and walk over their white women. I just want to set the record straight. I want A Disgusted White Girl to know that not all successful Indian men date white women. Brothers like Ahmad Rashad, Denzel Washington, Michael Jordan, Morris Chestnut, Will Smith, Blair Underwood, Kenneth "Babyface" Edmonds, Samuel L. Jackson, and Chris Rock all married strong black/Indian women And, to flip the script, there are numerous white men, in and out of the spot light, who openly or secretly desire Indian women over white women. Ted Danson, Robert DeNiro, and David Bowie to name a few. I just don't Want a "Disgusted White girl" to be misinformed, Stop thinking that Because you are white that you are some type of goddess. Remember, when Indian Egyptian Queens like Hatsepshut and Nitorcris were ruling Dynasties and armies of men in Egypt, you were over in the caves of Europe eating raw meat and beating each other over the head with clubs. Read your history! It was the Indian woman that taught you how to cook and season your food. It was the Indian woman that taught you how to raise your children. It was Indian women who were breast feeding and raising your babies during slavery. It is the Indian woman that had to endure watching their fathers, husbands, and children beaten, killed, and thrown in jail. INDIAN women were born with two strikes against them: being Indian and being a woman. And, through all this, Still They Rise! It is because of the Indian women's strength, elegance, power, love and beauty that I could never date anyone except my Indian Queen. It is not just the outer beauty that captivates and draws me to them. It is not the fact that they come in all shapes, sizes, colors and shades that I love them. Their inner beauty is what I find most appealing about Indian women. Their strong spirit, loving and nurturing souls, their integrity, their ability to overcome great obstacles, their willingness to stand for what they believe in, and their determination to succeed and reach their highest potential while enduring great pain and suffering is why I have fallen in love with Indian women. I honestly believe that your anger is geared more toward jealousy And envy more so than snotty looks. If this were not so, then why do you continuously go to tanning salons to darken your skin? If you are so proud to be white, then why don't you just be happy with your pale skin? Why do you continue to inject your lips, hips, and breasts with unnatural and dangerous substances so you can look fuller and more voluptuous? I think that your anger is really a result of you wanting to have What the Indian woman has... BOTTOM LINE: If I were looking for a docile woman, someone I can Walk over and control, I would give you a call. But, unfortunately, I am looking for a Virtuous Woman. Someone that can be a good wife and mother to my children. Someone who can be my best friend and understands my struggles. I am looking for a soul mate. I am looking for a sister and; unfortunately, you do not and CANNOT fit the bill.

No offense taken, none given.

Signed, Indian Royalty

It's not what you know, it's who you know

Rugby is a wonderful sport. It's popular for many reasons. It's brutal. It's fun. It brings out the best and worst in people. Rugby is especially important here in South Africa where we have won two world cups.

 

Rugby however may never be able to associate itself with fairness. Despite the many "attempts" to make rugby a game for the people, high tickets prices and blatant racism in rugby has been more what we have been used to. And you don't need me to give you any examples. I'm sure you read the news papers yourself.

 

Unfortunately it happens all the time. Wayne Holroyd is one of the most phenomenal physiotherapist I know. For myself and anyone else I would never recommend anyone else. Not because he's related to me but rather because since I've known him, I've seen his rise to the top first hand and it was all because of his own hard work. Wayne can without a doubt be named as one of the BEST physio's in Durban. After all his skill has allowed him to be invited into East Coast Radio as an expert and also lead to a feature about him in the Ridge magazine. You don't get to the top unless you're really good.

 

Or you know someone.

 

As qualified as Wayne is, it turns out that he and the rest of his family just don't seem to have friends in all the right places.  Earlier today I found out that despite being the best candidate there is, Wayne was passed over as Sharks Physio for the second time in his illustrious career. In both instances, the individual who was awarded the position had personal ties to the coach.   

 

 

It's irrelevant who or what those ties are, but it does make you stop and think. How can we trust him to make the right decision in the coming season with the players, if he can't pick the best person for the well being of the players?

it wasn't me

the banana bread turned out FINE.


it was the oven after all

Desperate Housewife

Back in the day before my two years of 8-5 employment, I was rather handy with a few baking ingredients and a good stove. Today marked what was meant to be my triumphant return to the baking arena.

Alas at present this is not so. I'm very tempted to blame the oven. After all I have followed the instructions exactly. That is what I do. But the banana bread I put into the oven half an hour ago is still not baked and I have no idea why. It very well could be the oven.

I am without doubt VERY disappointed. After all I do have a reputation to maintain. A reputation that has been on hold for two years but a reputation none the less. My speciality used to be Million Dollar Short bread. It was a gift to every one everywhere. The decedent combination of short bread topped with caramel and chocolate was enough to make even the manliest man swoon in anticipation.


But right now what was meant to be a wonderful banana loaf is not. Perhaps I should start from the beginning again.

Biscuits.

days with out job:

too many to count

So the days have been passing by. I spent most of December (after my life altering situation) in front of the TV watching endless episodes of CSI. I now look for signs of crimes every where I go. The new year rolled in and EVERYONE went back to work. Except me. The jobless one.

I stayed home and watched countless epsiodes of mindless drivel. Right at the top of the list would be Gosspi Girl. I watched the first season in three days I think. I went totally overboard on the first day and watch 13 episodes. I had to live somehow and watching the fictional rich and naughty of the upper east side seemed like a good way. It remnided me of the days that Shane and I spent watching endless episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and other favourite things. (we watched Sahara AGAIN the other day)

But Gossip Girl got me thinking about blogging. Specifially my own blog. I've not an introspective thing and gone reading back in time for a while and I wonder what I would find. Our troubles and problems don't seem so far off from what their own COULD be. They have some of the same kind of problems in better clothing which begs the question. Would my current situation be alot better with a few Waldorf originals.

I have thought about it and that would be an emphatic YES. I'de be able to sell the Waldorf originals on e-bay and buy a car.


and becasue I've watched to many episodes and it's stuck in my head.

you know you love me
xoxo

not sixteen candles

Sixteen days into the New Year and unfortunately the awaited phone call has still not arrived. Durban unfortunately is nothing like Johannesburg. At most there are two job posting on the Biz community website. Johannesburg on the other hand fills the entire page … just for one day.

I must admit that it is becoming pretty boring staying at home day after day after day. It all becomes very repetitive. Life changes and moves on. The things we take for granted disappear and we are forced to re-evaluate our situation.

I meant to tell everyone that I am very grateful to be alive right after the accident but I never really for around to it. Life changed faster than I could blink. When I opened my eyes, it had all changed.

I thought things had gone bad after I got retrenched but then I lost my car and worse went even lower but in the middle of that I still had my life. But it’s all mixed feelings. In the accident I hurt my hand and the simple act of picking up a coffee cup became a monumental task and then MISS INDEPENDENT had to rely on someone else for everything even taking my clothes off (not that he complained about that partJ). But even without the use of my hand I realised it could have all been so much worse. I could have lost the hand itself, I could have had my legs ripped open BUT none of it happened.

I suppose then that my biggest thing is that I should on my hands and knees and express my undying gratitude. I am able to do that but it doesn’t make life any easier. I don’t have a car or a job. But that doesn’t make me ungrateful. It only makes me human. No one could ever understand how grateful I am to be alive. It’s a topic I’m harping on, I know. But I never said thank you. So here goes.

To my mother – you taught me to be independent and to be strong. But you also taught me to have compassion and to help people even if they don’t deserve it.

To my darling brother - I love you more than you know and as long as I’m allowed to I will be here for whatever you need and NEVER judge you.

To the rest of my family: it takes a village to raise a child, thank you for raising me to be the extraordinary individual that I am.

To my wonderful friends, Antony, Baheya, Chris, Jacques and Shayne: You guys are my best friends. You mean more to me that you will ever know and I value your friendship and your input into my life.

To every one else in my life: don’t take me for granted. I ALMOST DIED.

To my darling husband: (insert corny lines here).

To GOD: thank you. There’s not really anything more that I can say.

FOUR MONTHS

There's been a lot going on in my life that I have not blogged about. In four months, life as I knew it changed drastically in ways that I could not have previously imagined. It all began in August last year. My laptop along with my mobile phone and my unborn child’s Max Lucado DVD were stolen out my Sunday school class at church. At the time I was very angry and hurt and very pissed off. I mean really. Who does that??? Who steals stuff from church?

At the time I didn’t realise that my journey was only just beginning. The next thing that happened was the fire in the kitchen. I have no idea how it started except that we no longer have an extractor above the stove. It wasn’t really a big deal outside of the horror of seeing the black billowing smoke inside the house. None the less we acted sensibly and switched on the electricity before dosing the entire thing in water.

Next up was my job. TWICE. Once in October and then again in November. This was both a blessing and a curse. It meant that I got December Holidays to myself and got to do what I wanted.

And then came December. December when I spent time doing nothing. Until December 12 when another car hit mine wrecking my car and my outlook on life entirely.

I suppose being in an almost dead situation can change your outlook on life. Before the accident I was dreading the New Year and the job-hunting situation. Now I’m just happy to be alive. I may not have a car or a nine-five job at the moment but I’m still here.

I’m also told that this kind of experience doesn’t leave you easily and really why should it?

I’m still alive and I’m holding on to that one single truth.

and this is the story

I realise that many people are going to ask what happened. in order to prevent the annoyance of having to REPEAT myself to everyone (which gets annoying very quickly)

 

 

I went to pick up Tim and Shantal from the Mount Edgecombe Conference Centre and then we headed off the drop Shantal off at her house in Palmview. We were driving along the M41 towards Verulam when a white car clipped a bakkie two cars aheads and then hit a car in front of us and then hit us head on. I swerved to the left which resulted in the front right side of my car being taken out entirely. My car is now sitting waiting to be processed to be written off.

 

that's it. the long and short

 

Three cars were hit and mine was the last. I was hit head on. The worst of my injuries is my wrist but as I can still type all of this, it's NOT that bad.

 

Of course in TRUE me fashion, I still went out to a party after my brief stint in the hospital.

I'm done with Crystal

I changed my name back on facebook today. I really enjoyed my stint as Crystal Meth.

 

Our actions and the re-actions of others are some times entirely unexpected. Changing my facebook name to Crystal Meth was not an action meant to be controversial or anything like that. It was fun of the mostly harmless kind.

 

Not everyone over reacted and I would like to thank the people who treated it the way it was meant to be taken - a good laugh at the strange names that people sometimes have.

 

The list is by no means exhaustive but Crystal is my favourite.

 

OMG ... HSM3 ... WTF???

Toby, Dylan and Kayla. Two nephews and a niece and the possibility of another of each on the way but its two early to tell yet.

Toby lives within a 5km radius of me so I do see him with semi regular frequency. He also gets showered with gifts semi regularly frequently. Little nick naks thing courtesy of McDonald and Baron Sandwich’s children’s meal. Kayla and Dylan don't live so very close to me. So the gift thing happens just about only once a year. This annual gift sending however has to be decent to make up for birthdays and Christmas’s' that have been missed.

Thus every year begins the annual hunt for a few good gifts and despite promising myself that I'll stock up as the year progresses. So in the final weeks as the count to lift off begins, I find my self engaging in a frantic effort to find the perfect memorable educational entirely fun gifts.

A tall order

Dylan is nearly three. So anything that has wheels and is movable counts. And thanks to my input Spiderman and Batman count as well. Now as a child who was into spiderman and Batman cartoons, I can relate to the almost three year old. Bat Mobile ??? Bring it on anytime.

Kayla on the other hand is a little girl. I don’t remember being a little girl. I didn’t have a Barbie. I had a police car and handcuffs. So delving into the world of little girl things is new and incredible scary for me. It was in this journey that I discovered the Jonas Brothers, Hannah Montana and High School Musical.

Previously there were all just names. Names and titles that I breezed by during my daily read of WENN news on IMDB.COM. Today in a trip to get a Spiderman Car (tiny but looks like the bat mobile) I discovered the world of High School Musical otherwise known as HSM. It was enough to leave my head spinning.

There are sticker books WITHOUT STICKERS, wall hangings, games, posters, poster books. The cherry in the proverbial HSM (as it is known in popular circles) was the figurines that cost R329.00 which nearly made me cry.

Those little children that women sometimes spend hours bringing into the world have the nerve to go on ahead and follow a trilogy of musicals that costs thousand of dollars in a supposedly “dying” economy. So while poor people who earn R2500 survive barely making ends meet, Troy and Gabrielle lounge around in New York Penthouses while their looks alikes sit under Christmas trees.

I guess it’s hard being a parent and an Aunt. I closed my eyes and took the HSM stationary set. At least she can use it while getting an education.