I love Stallone movies! There, I said it! People can make fun of me as much as they want but Stallone rocks, actually he's Rocky, but "rocks" seems like a decent word to use in order to describe him. Ever since I was a kid; I didn't think I could be like him … I really, really believed that I could be him. I guess I was wrong. I'm just me. But I guess that's fine too.
Watched the Rocky Balboa (the new one) movie for the hundredth time, I never seem to get tired of it. The one cheesy line that I took away from it this time was "It ain't about how hard you get hit, it's about how hard you CAN get hit and keep moving forward."
Whether it's cauterizing your own bullet wounds with gun powder or taking away some valuable life lessons in the form of cheesy lines, there's always something you can learn from a Stallone movie. Gosh, I'm such a loser! Go Rocko!
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sun Day
The sun was out yesterda, for a change; and this meant that the entire day was spent on Clifton 4th beach!
It’s weird, until I moved to Cape Town; I never used to just hang out at the beach. I mean - I used to go surfing almost on a daily basis, but it never occurred to me, that I should just go to the beach lie around and chill. I just didn’t really get the concept.
Maybe it’s just because I can’t sit still. Whenever I think I’m lying around, perfectly still and relaxing; I still somehow wriggle around enough to move the entire beach (sand) onto myself and my towel. Everyone else around me seems to do perfectly fine.
I also get bored easily. Thankfully I had some good company and ol’ faithful guitar to keep me preoccupied, the latter being to the detriment of the people sitting around us methinks.
I was however; also invited on several occasions to throw a Frisbee around. But ever since I received glasses back in Grade 6 or 7 my depth perception has been screwed; rendering me about as coordinated as a bat at a rock concert, especially when having to catch or throw anything. Saving my dignity, I decided to skip the Frisbee for a less crowded day,
To end of a perfectly lazy Sunday, we opted to grab our ritualistic drink and bite at Caprice along the famous Camps Bay stretch. Hopefully we’ll be getting more sun soon, it’s miserable again today. If we do I’ll be sure to go back, chill and get more sand everywhere.
It’s weird, until I moved to Cape Town; I never used to just hang out at the beach. I mean - I used to go surfing almost on a daily basis, but it never occurred to me, that I should just go to the beach lie around and chill. I just didn’t really get the concept.
Maybe it’s just because I can’t sit still. Whenever I think I’m lying around, perfectly still and relaxing; I still somehow wriggle around enough to move the entire beach (sand) onto myself and my towel. Everyone else around me seems to do perfectly fine.
I also get bored easily. Thankfully I had some good company and ol’ faithful guitar to keep me preoccupied, the latter being to the detriment of the people sitting around us methinks.
I was however; also invited on several occasions to throw a Frisbee around. But ever since I received glasses back in Grade 6 or 7 my depth perception has been screwed; rendering me about as coordinated as a bat at a rock concert, especially when having to catch or throw anything. Saving my dignity, I decided to skip the Frisbee for a less crowded day,
To end of a perfectly lazy Sunday, we opted to grab our ritualistic drink and bite at Caprice along the famous Camps Bay stretch. Hopefully we’ll be getting more sun soon, it’s miserable again today. If we do I’ll be sure to go back, chill and get more sand everywhere.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Bitter Sweet Symphony
I found it fitting that on the drive home from Natalie and Andrew’s wedding last night that the evening ended off with the song Bitter Sweet Symphony, by the Verve playing on the radio. Because for me it was exactly that: Bitter sweet.
The sweet bit was that yesterday, I was given the opportunity to witness one of my best friends, who is like a sister to me, tie the knot with the love of her life.
The wedding ceremony was held in Stellenbosch on a wine estate called Zevenwacht. The bride looked beautiful, the groom seemed delighted, the venue was exquisite, the décor was amazing, the flower girl cute as a button, the food phenomenal, the music well-chosen, the speeches touching. Everything was set to be a fairy tale, and it should have been nothing but a joyous occasion.
There was one thing lacking, and that was the matter of my date, which for me was the bitter part. Lauren was supposed to be my date.
I was really looking forward to taking Lauren with me. I remember before asking her to go with me; that I felt really excited, but I also had a high-school boy, anxiousness that perhaps she would look at me funny and turn down my offer. So I remember even having to plan and practice my proposition.
I’m not much of a charmer but I told her that I needed a really hot date for my best friends wedding. I found her reply entertaining but I loved it. “I am not sure I am the hottest date you could find, but of course I will be yours for the wedding”, she said. Not the hottest date? Silly girl, that’s why I loved her, super modest… and, well...hot.
I missed her yesterday, more than I think I’ve missed anyone. I found myself between mixed emotions, eclectic even; extremely happy the one second and contrastingly saddened the next. At times during the wedding ceremony I noticed that there was an empty seat next to me and when the dancing at the reception began I had no partner to dance with.
Not wanting to detract from the bride and grooms special evening, I tried my best to put on a brave face, but inevitably I knew that I would eventually succumb to emotion and have to run off.
I’ve also noticed at weddings, that this concept of separating by death, comes up quite frequently ( “Till death do us part.”). Now, I’m not sure if this just gets thrown around for dramatic effect, with death being some very distant and unlikely probability… But given recent events I’d like to, with all my blessings, congratulate Andrew and Natalie on a very successful and happy marriage, and added to that, wish them a long and prosperous life together. With emphasis, on the word “long”, of course.
The sweet bit was that yesterday, I was given the opportunity to witness one of my best friends, who is like a sister to me, tie the knot with the love of her life.
The wedding ceremony was held in Stellenbosch on a wine estate called Zevenwacht. The bride looked beautiful, the groom seemed delighted, the venue was exquisite, the décor was amazing, the flower girl cute as a button, the food phenomenal, the music well-chosen, the speeches touching. Everything was set to be a fairy tale, and it should have been nothing but a joyous occasion.
There was one thing lacking, and that was the matter of my date, which for me was the bitter part. Lauren was supposed to be my date.
I was really looking forward to taking Lauren with me. I remember before asking her to go with me; that I felt really excited, but I also had a high-school boy, anxiousness that perhaps she would look at me funny and turn down my offer. So I remember even having to plan and practice my proposition.
I’m not much of a charmer but I told her that I needed a really hot date for my best friends wedding. I found her reply entertaining but I loved it. “I am not sure I am the hottest date you could find, but of course I will be yours for the wedding”, she said. Not the hottest date? Silly girl, that’s why I loved her, super modest… and, well...hot.
I missed her yesterday, more than I think I’ve missed anyone. I found myself between mixed emotions, eclectic even; extremely happy the one second and contrastingly saddened the next. At times during the wedding ceremony I noticed that there was an empty seat next to me and when the dancing at the reception began I had no partner to dance with.
Not wanting to detract from the bride and grooms special evening, I tried my best to put on a brave face, but inevitably I knew that I would eventually succumb to emotion and have to run off.
I’ve also noticed at weddings, that this concept of separating by death, comes up quite frequently ( “Till death do us part.”). Now, I’m not sure if this just gets thrown around for dramatic effect, with death being some very distant and unlikely probability… But given recent events I’d like to, with all my blessings, congratulate Andrew and Natalie on a very successful and happy marriage, and added to that, wish them a long and prosperous life together. With emphasis, on the word “long”, of course.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Food for Thought
I’m eating pasta for breakfast! Apparently, this is really strange for a lot of people…I’ve been reprimanded on more than one occasion for eating strange things at strange hours.
Like the other day, I couldn’t sleep so I made bacon and eggs at 1 in the morning…Apparently that was strange too. Supposedly, I should be eating breakfast foods during breakfast, lunch stuff for lunch and dinner things for dinner…
Who came up with these rules in the first place; and who decided to categorise what we should and should not be eating at what times of the day, in any case? Whoever it is, I’d like to give them a piece of my mind…and perhaps write a sternly worded letter.
The fact of the matter is, if I wanted to eat corn flakes for dinner, or a fillet steak for breakfast, I don’t see why I shouldn’t; without people judging me all the time…. Anyways my pasta is getting cold, back to breakfast!
Like the other day, I couldn’t sleep so I made bacon and eggs at 1 in the morning…Apparently that was strange too. Supposedly, I should be eating breakfast foods during breakfast, lunch stuff for lunch and dinner things for dinner…
Who came up with these rules in the first place; and who decided to categorise what we should and should not be eating at what times of the day, in any case? Whoever it is, I’d like to give them a piece of my mind…and perhaps write a sternly worded letter.
The fact of the matter is, if I wanted to eat corn flakes for dinner, or a fillet steak for breakfast, I don’t see why I shouldn’t; without people judging me all the time…. Anyways my pasta is getting cold, back to breakfast!
Friday, September 26, 2008
Hooray for the Weekend!
Hooray for the weekend and hooray for all the hard stuff in my project being completed! We even had a team lunch at Simply Asia to celebrate. However, I may not be out of the woodwork yet, on Monday the sucky part of developing software starts - documenting how the system works - every software developers favourite (note the sarcasm there). Anyways, have a meeting then going to start unwinding for the weekend.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
How You Live Your Dash
It’s strange how you meet some people and in a short space of time they can make an impact in your life. I met Malik very randomly one day riding a lift down from Pierre’s place in Wembley Square with my folks. My dad noticed him wearing an Okinawa University T-Shirt and made a comment about it, he introduced himself to us and that was the last time we thought that we’d bump into him.
As luck would have it; a few weeks later I saw him again at a place called Karma, we started to chat and shared a few drinks. Him being from New York and me on my way to go live in Johannesburg at the time, I thought again that this would be the last time we would cross paths.
But this was not to be, a couple of days later I bumped into him again, at Wembley. I then introduced him to some of my mates. When I left for Johannesburg, he became really good friends with the rest of my friends… weird how these things work out.
Anyways I haven’t seen Malik since, but we’ve stayed in contact. Today he sent me a poem, which has now become some of my favourite words:
The Dash Poem
by Linda Ellis
”I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came her date of her birth And spoke the following
date with tears, But he said what mattered most of all Was the dash
between those years
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say About how you spent your dash?”
As luck would have it; a few weeks later I saw him again at a place called Karma, we started to chat and shared a few drinks. Him being from New York and me on my way to go live in Johannesburg at the time, I thought again that this would be the last time we would cross paths.
But this was not to be, a couple of days later I bumped into him again, at Wembley. I then introduced him to some of my mates. When I left for Johannesburg, he became really good friends with the rest of my friends… weird how these things work out.
Anyways I haven’t seen Malik since, but we’ve stayed in contact. Today he sent me a poem, which has now become some of my favourite words:
The Dash Poem
by Linda Ellis
”I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on her tombstone From the beginning to the end
He noted that first came her date of her birth And spoke the following
date with tears, But he said what mattered most of all Was the dash
between those years
For that dash represents all the time
That she spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved her
Know what that little line is worth.
For it matters not how much we own;
The cars, the house, the cash,
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard.
Are there things you'd like to change?
For you never know how much time is left, That can still be rearranged.
If we could just slow down enough
To consider what's true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.
And be less quick to anger,
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect,
And more often wear a smile
Remembering that this special dash
Might only last a little while.
So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life's actions to rehash
Would you be proud of the things they say About how you spent your dash?”
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Republic of Hout Bay
Seems like the project at work is on track and seeing how it’s a public holiday here in South Africa I had a nice mid-week break.
There being so many arbitrary public holidays; I can never quite keep track of what and why we’re actually celebrating. I think today might have beenHeritage Day, and I think we’re meant to celebrate the cultural diversity of our country. But most South African’s I know, only know it as National Braai Day, in case your South Africanese is not up to scratch; a braai is a ritualistic gathering where meat is burnt over a fire and then feasted upon...in other words a barbecue.
Unfortunately, the weather has not been playing ball as of late and so instead, of celebrating with a braai, I think it turned out to become National Gym Day. For some reason, every person in South Africa seemed to be at the gym. It was packed and I struggled to get any of the machines I wanted, while there.
Besides my little workout, I didn’t partake in any strenuous activities. A few of us did decide to go on a bit of a road trip though – well not exactly road trip - and we only headed out that way to watch some DVDs. The drive was pretty much just over Table Mountain and into Hout Bay. Going to Hout Bay however, might as well be going out to another country.
It’s a sleepy seaside community and for whatever reason there is an inside joke amongst inhabitants, that it is its own republic; even though it’s only, at a maximum, a thirty minute drive outside of Cape Town city centre. I remember the first time I visited; I was dumb-founded to see signs which read “Welcome to the Republic of Hout Bay”. Apparently, if you are a resident, you can even get a fake Republic of Hout Bay passport… If I was seemingly confused; I can only imagine what foreigners feel like.
There being so many arbitrary public holidays; I can never quite keep track of what and why we’re actually celebrating. I think today might have beenHeritage Day, and I think we’re meant to celebrate the cultural diversity of our country. But most South African’s I know, only know it as National Braai Day, in case your South Africanese is not up to scratch; a braai is a ritualistic gathering where meat is burnt over a fire and then feasted upon...in other words a barbecue.
Unfortunately, the weather has not been playing ball as of late and so instead, of celebrating with a braai, I think it turned out to become National Gym Day. For some reason, every person in South Africa seemed to be at the gym. It was packed and I struggled to get any of the machines I wanted, while there.
Besides my little workout, I didn’t partake in any strenuous activities. A few of us did decide to go on a bit of a road trip though – well not exactly road trip - and we only headed out that way to watch some DVDs. The drive was pretty much just over Table Mountain and into Hout Bay. Going to Hout Bay however, might as well be going out to another country.
It’s a sleepy seaside community and for whatever reason there is an inside joke amongst inhabitants, that it is its own republic; even though it’s only, at a maximum, a thirty minute drive outside of Cape Town city centre. I remember the first time I visited; I was dumb-founded to see signs which read “Welcome to the Republic of Hout Bay”. Apparently, if you are a resident, you can even get a fake Republic of Hout Bay passport… If I was seemingly confused; I can only imagine what foreigners feel like.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
