Whyyyy does it carry on?

First, I blogged because it was a novelty. But it got old.

Then, I blogged because I could voice my stupid opinions and silly questions. But as I made better friends at university, I could do this with them.

Then, I blogged because I had met interesting people, and writing was almost like sending out a newsletter. But, I realised it was less interesting to others.

Then, I blogged because I found that writing my thoughts down was the best way to articulate them. But, now I have people who I discuss these things with.

Then, I blogged out of force of habit. But, now my life is such a dogshow that there is no more routine and most habits are falling away.

And now I don't blog any more. Every now and then I feel I ought to, and I do, like right now.

Er, so... yeah my life is quite a dogshow at the moment. The only thing giving me any direction is London. I'm leaving on 3rd April and I am SO excited! But I have nothing much else to do at the moment. I'm getting very bored and very annoyed with the parents. I think they think I've gone off the rails a bit. Tonight I'm going out for the fourth time in six nights. And life can't get much better than this :)

New Years was good - partied with my friend Nicci, who was down from Cape Town, and even got to see Wendy once or twice for a hey howdy do. Went to the Ballito Street Party - lots of eye candy and really good music made for a really fun night!

This is what life is made for... friends and fun. That's really my feeling at the moment. I miss my Rhodes friends terribly. I have my Durban friends but it's not always the same. They're fun but very different. But, life's good, generally, at the moment. The sun's shining and my whole life is ahead of me. Now if only I could find that warm fuzzy feeling...

In motion

I got the Johnnic job, but decided to decline. I didn't feel journalism was what I wanted to get into, and so I've decided to sit around in Durban until I head off to London in April. It wasn't really a huge decision to make, it just felt like now was the best time for London.

So, after a couple of days of feeiling like I was completely directionless and doomed to live a life of odd jobs and perfecting the complex Soap Opera lives of my Sims, I feel like perhaps all I needed was a self-administered kick up the ass and a reminder of the fact that to be big, one has to dream big. Plus, some initiative.

So, I emailed a few PR companies and was pleasantly surprised with some positive responses. I'm starting a mini-internship at one company on Monday. I am a bit nervous since I've never done anything like this and have absolutely no idea what to expect, but from the sounds of it it's mostly preparing press releases and basic writing, which is exactly what I was looking for!

And otherwise home's home as usual. I spend most of the day running errands for parents or going to the Pavilion and looking at Lacoste shoes as if I might be able to afford them.

In limbo

Much has happened since my last blog post, but the excitement has actually prevented me from feeling bored enough to do a blog post. It's a sad truth friends: I have to be bored to do a decent blog post.

So I'm not going to recount the last few weeks, just provide a quick overview (with feedback on the Digs Formal) and then move on to discussions about the future. Basically, the formal was a blast, I had a hell of a lot of fun, the boy and I became involved in a somewhat tumultuous fling which ended on fairly neutral terms (or so I like to believe). The last of my exams went ok, and I spent a lot of time saying goodbye to old friends... friends who I've had for four years and might never see again.

I had my third round interview with FNB, but didn't get the job. I was disappointed, obviously, but their reasons were that I wouldn't be happy in the position, and they wouldn't be able to retain me. I told them I didn't want a down-the-line finance job, but was rather hoping to get into financial PR or communications. So we'll see what that holds. I have my third round interview with Johnnic on Wednesday - they're paying for me to fly up to Johannesburg for it.

And if I don't get that one, then I think I'll be off to London like all the other kids. Just for fun. Because London's totally fun, and very exciting. So at the moment I'm in limbo, hanging around at home and waiting for stuff to happen to me. It's really kinda boring.

Don your suit and tie

So, Rhodes students have a number of traditions, both those who stay in res and those who don't. One of the more famous traditions which students in digs have is that of the Digs Formal. It probably started out as a nice, formal dinner where you invite a date, dress up in a suit and have a nice meal with a few glasses of wine, but it's evolved into something much more complex and crazy.

You don't invite your date. Someone else in your digs has to do that for you. So effectively, it's a blind date. Normally that wouldn't be such a problem. However, the most well known aspect of a digs formal is the only unwritten rule: you have to score your date.

Wine is out of the picture. It's all hard-core spirits. Also, you don't mix yourself a nice little vodka and coke - your vodka comes in a shot glass. With no coke. You might be lucky enough to get a bigger glass when you're served punch, but the punch is likely to be about two thirds alcoholic (usually a mix of vodka and cane with a splash of sprite) anyway.

And there's no roast lamb or carrots julienne. It might be a hamburger, or hotdogs. Something easy, so it can be served up by drunk people, and something quick, so there's time for the games.

Yes, the games... putting a block of ice in your mouth and passing it to your date with your hands tied behind your back. Truth, dare or command. Kings. Many, many others... And there are rules, lots of rules. These rules (one of which involves the dubiously-named 'love shack') are all tied in with the theme, where ours is 'Tempation Island'.

My digsmates are the most keen to have a digs formal. I do think it could be... fun. But obviously there is the issue of me not being prepared to have a girl date.

'Well obviously we'll get you an oke!' They cry. But will they be comfortable with it? Well, they'll be drunk anyway. The only thing that makes me feel slightly better is that we're inviting a lesbian couple too, so at least we'll be diluting the breeders.

I'm just frightened of what he's going to look like. They're busy asking all the girls they know if they know anyone suitable. My stipulations were that he not be short and not be fat. It seems like the rest is up to them...

I'm petrified.

Random Factoids

I haven’t blogged in absolute ages. For some reason I tire of it, and I feel bad because the rest of you all continue to blog so loyally. I could say it’s because I’ve been really busy, but that’s only if your definition of busy includes partying… because I’ve done quite a lot of that lately.

I was tagged, a little while ago, and asked to provide eight random facts about myself. I thought this might provide a good opportunity to actually do some writing, and maybe include some of my current event news in there too.

1. The only movie I’ve ever cried in was Finding Nemo. The second time I watched it was not long after I had arrived in the States. I was living with three South African jocks who were not even nice to look at. They stole my food, they were loud and messy, and we just really didn’t get on. I had had another long day, worrying about whether or not my social security card would arrive, worrying about how long I could last in this country without a job, worrying about everything. So I sat in front of the TV and found Finding Nemo on one of the kids channels. While I was watching, the plight of the little fishy because too overwhelming and all my emotions started pouring out. I’ve never cried during a movie again.

2. Currently, I am suffering from a ‘bone bruise’. The tissue around my heel became bruised when I drunkenly jumped over a wall at 3am in order to have an illegal night swim with some friends last Friday. Now, over a week later, I went to the doctor because the pain refused to go away. Apparently I’m to expect at least nine weeks of pain from such an injury. One down, eight to go. Thank goodness for anti-inflammatory pills.

3. I plan to be able to speak six languages by the time I am thirty. As I go along, I might revise this goal to include more, as I haven’t learnt a new language since I was about seven years old and so I’m not sure how difficult it will be. Already being trilingual, another three languages in nine years seems quite doable. I plan to start with French, then move on to Mandarin and conclude with either Spanish or Swedish.

4. I am not a car person. I own a car and I love the freedom of having one but I much prefer using subways. There is an amazing city-feel to descending underground, being transported to another underground location, and resurfacing in a different part of the city. My car is always dirty and often gets scratched or otherwise damaged. I always get speeding fines and bitch and moan about having to buy petrol. Many people dream about owning beautiful cars, but all I need is to get from A to B, and if a subway can accomplish that, then I’m happy.

5. I never want to have children. They annoy me. And they cost a lot of money. I love thinking of names for them, but the way I figure it, if you’re interested in naming them and dressing them and giving them the occasional present, then what you really need is nieces and nephews, or maybe even just The Sims. I’m also not entirely sure I’d be able to raise one in the right way. There are too many variables and I would be very disappointed in myself if they didn’t turn out right (right being the way I have envisaged them). No child needs that sort of pressure. Plus, the world is over-populated anyway.

6. I like books and movies which make me sad. I like things which shock me and bring me back down to earth, exposing the realities of life. I prefer sad endings to happy ones, because heroes annoy me. My current favourite movie is Perfume: The Story of a Murder. The movie was incredibly powerful and very sad, and the book (which I’m reading now) is incredibly absorbing.

7. I don’t like Great Danes. They are too big for dogs and they creep the hell out of me. This dislike has two connections to childhood. Once, we arrived at someone’s house and six-year-old little Mike leapt out of the car ready to greet the hosts and was suddenly met by the image of a gigantic dog bounding down the driveway towards me. Before I had a chance to move I was on the ground and the canine monstrosity was on top of me, with me screaming my head off while it barked at me in its idiocy. The second connection is a box of stories-on-tapes which my sister and I were once gifted. Along with the usual Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and other fairy tales were a number of quite dark and sinister ones. One memory which sticks with me is the story of a man who killed all his dogs and was visited at night by their ghosts, enlarged many times over. They sat in the street and looked in through his up-stairs bedroom window, with ‘eyes as large as saucepans’. *Shudders*. To this day I can’t bear the sight of a Great Dane and refuse to get out of the car at my sister’s friend’s house, until the dogs are sufficiently calmed down.
   
   
8. I have no idea what next year holds. Currently I’ve completed round two of interviews with both Johnnic (the media company) and First National Bank. I’m waiting from both to hear if I am through to round three. It’s all hanging on the strength of my performance in an essay (Johnnic) and psychometric testing (FNB)… and so I sit and twiddle my thumbs while my future hangs in the balance.

From Six to Six

So, this time I can promise a post which isn't just 'went out, got drunk, had fun'. This last Saturday night was most probably one of the most fun and also crazy nights I've had in a very long time.

It started at 6pm. We went to the Hindu Student's Society Cultural Show. This involved a small meal and then a show with various pieces of dance and song (primarily Indian). The dancing was beautiful and had only a few small and irritating 'comedic' pieces in between. But the traditional dancing was really great. Indian girls are always so dressed up for these events, in their beautiful saris and with their seven tons of gold jewelry (mostly in the form of bracelets). Anyway, the bar opened after the show, at about 11pm, and I had two glasses of wine in quick succession before heading to the Rat and Parrot.

I met up with various other friends there, and we continued on the wine story. Then at about half past two in the morning my digsmates told me they wanted to go home. I hadn't brought my car with me and I wanted to stay out longer, so I told them I'd come home with them and bring my car out with me. My friend Carey joined me, and we came home and had a glass of wine before heading back out. On the way out, our friend Terri was smsing us asking where we were. We decided to go to Friars and join her there. Unfortunately Friars was closed (it was three in the morning by this stage), but luckily Carey told the bouncer enough of a sob-story about us being desperate to find Terri that he let us in.

So, we were dancing on the dancefloor when all of a sudden a bouncer came up to us, grabbed Terri's jacket off the shelf next to where we were dancing and asked 'Whose jacket is this?' Terri responded and he asked her to follow him. Carey and I followed her because we weren't sure what it was about. Terri was standing at the end of a short corridor (which us plebs weren't allowed into) and talking to the bouncer and a guy who we later found out was the owner/manager. Carey and I stood at the top of the corridor, not knowing what was going on and feeling very out of the loop. Suddenly, three bouncers flew past us like bats out of hell, carrying a flailing man out of the club. One bouncer held each arm and the other held his legs. They dumped him outside.

Eventually, at about twenty to four, Terri came out of the corridor and told us that she had to give a statement to the police, and would we wait for her.

Of course, we agreed. We were let into the corridor and told the whole story. One of the workers who walks around collecting empty glasses and bottles had noticed a woman in her mid-thirties trying to steal Terri's jacket from the shelf. He had reported her and she was being held in the back sections of the club. We were waiting for the police to arrive when the club closed at four in the morning. The lights came on and everyone left, and Carey and I began to feel very uncomfortable. The owner/manager was very drunk and was shouting at everyone, including his own staff. He stood and spoke to us for a while, telling us about how the woman's boyfriend had apparently tried to hit him (the boyfriend was the one who had to be carried out by three bouncers). He inferred that Carey and I were together but I didn't dare tell him the true state of affairs, because he seemed ready to attack anyone for anything. He was handling the situation very badly, and being generally racist to the woman who was accused of theft and to the police. Terri had to give a statement, which he influenced heavily with all his shouting and carrying on.

Luckily Carey and I were given free drinks (I got two free Savannas!) so it was obvious that we weren't seen as any sort of problem. We just sat quietly and whispered to each other about how unfairly the woman was being treated, and how dodgy this club really was. All of a sudden, the woman who had been accused of theft started clutching her breast and shouting. The owner/manager claimed she was 'faking a heart attack to get out of the situation'. She was cluthing her left breast, but I didn't want to point this out to him. Then all of a sudden she whipped her (rather large) boob out of her top, and starting lactating everywhere. She was squirting milk all over the floor and needless to say, everyone was disgusted. She asked Carey where the bathroom was (which suggests she's not a regular) and went to get some toilet paper.

Eventually, at about quarter to six, we were allowed to go. On our way out we were stopped by the police and told that Terri's statement was not valid because she had been influenced by the owner/manager. So we had to stand in the street at ten to six in the morning and fill in a second statement. What a nightmare. Carey and I noticed a cat on the pavement and so we sat and played with it while we waited. Obviously the free drinks were a bit much for Carey because she was hell-bent on taking the cat home to be her pet.

So, I got home at 6am in the morning. I had a sandwich and went online (and was stupidly surprised when there was no one to chat to). And so now I have a Friars Story. Complete with gigantic lactating boob.

Will going out in Johannesburg ever be as interesting as in Grahamtown? Something tells me no.

Last night I met someone who told me she loved my style and I was an awesome dresser. She said it was something she usually only saw on TV. She said I had this aura of confidence and if I were stright she'd be all over me. I laughed and waved the admiration away by flapping my wrist.

But secretely, inside, I was beaming. Yay! She didn't realise that she had made my night :)