MONDAY MORNING MOAN

Does Cab-net piss anyone else off? I don’t know, but it really grates my tits!

I suppose I could cab with another company…wait, I actually do…but sometimes there’s just no time to wait the 15 minutes it takes for a called cab to come to your house. And, when there’s a whole fleet of cabs parked outside your front door, it’s only logical that a late person like myself would climb into the nearest one of them and tell them to go, go, GO!

So what exactly pisses me off?

The fact that the divers have set their tariff to TIME…instead of FARE!

For those who don’t know how cabs work, the drivers rent their cars from the man, and then get a percentage of the fare per km. When the cab stops, the meter stops. So that’s why some cabs charge you waiting, if you say, need to pop into the shop to pick up something. I understand thins, after all, time is money.

Cab-net has me frothing at the bit because their meters are always set on TIME! So if I’m in the cab and it’s standing in traffic, the meter still counts! If I’m in the cab and it’s standing still at a red robot, the meter still counts! Ok, so I end up paying only like R5 more by the time I get to work, but that R5 could have been the last line of defense between me and starvation! When it came to a vending mission – I take my vending seriously!

I feel like I’ve been had!

What’s the point of R8.80/Km if you’re going to be siphoning extra, in 20c increments, making you, at the end of my trip more expensive than the cab I should have called in the first place?And why do I have to pay for red robots and rush hour traffic…isn’t that, like, the nature of the beast? I mean, if I stepped into a grocery store and made you lose out on potential customers, charge me time I don't mind...in fact I would demand it!

But really, FARE is fair, and what they are doing seems totally unfair!

Thoughts?

ACCEPTING YOUR LOT

Happy New Year!

It’s been a while, but hopefully I’ll be able to blog more frequently this year.

In the spirit of, I was full of plans and resolutions. But lurking in the depths was a dread I was trying my utmost to suppress. What if all these magnificent plans didn’t pan out? What if I spent another year swallowing disappointment after disappointment? What if yet another New Year found me devastated because I was exactly where I’d convinced myself I should never be again.

The load was too hard to bear. I had to calm down, so I sought counsel from various family and friends. Advice and platitudes were plenty, but none gave me a real sense of ease and any sign of solution.

One recurrent theme was accepting your lot in life. Simple enough…but was it?

I started thinking, what exactly did accepting your lot in life mean? Did it mean I should take all the bad and just let it be? Or perhaps I should give up on my dreams, because lets face it, time (in the real world) was a-wasting and I needed to get my head out the clouds?

Then, walking to work about a week ago I had, to borrow from Oprah, an ‘aha!’ moment.

Such a liberating thought settled in my mind. For some inexplicable reason, I thought Hey, God gives you your soul, some change and a chance. It’s you or people around you who quantify this gift with fear and fearful things and then call it reality.

It wasn’t something I had to face…because it really wasn’t as God INTENDED it for ME. I had become so wrapped up in my own self pity and raging, I forgot that it wasn’t me who was driving this vehicle. There really is a higher power out there, and if I just stop, and say ok, life on life’s terms, my higher power’s got me.

He reminds me that: I have my body, and it is able. I have my mind, and it is sound. I have my family, and they are willing. I have my friends, and they are kind. I can change my size, action my dreams, lean on my kin, and celebrate this wonderful, crazy, unpredictable chance I call my life.

I only have to focus on the here and now, but my possibility is limitless. And, if I’m ok with this…if I accept my ‘Lot in Life’, I can have that extraordinary existence that I’ve always considered my ‘ungettable get’.

Freedom.

WHEN LIFE HAS GOT YOU DOWN

This next sentence will read as stupid as it sounds but, it’s incredible how perception can literally ‘change’ the way you see things.

I know what perception means, given my disclaimer, but wow, has this last week not shown me!

Monday I discovered I was no longer in possession of my ID, credit card and bank card. It’s admin beyond admin to sort this out – I’m STILL trying. I almost fell apart, from feeling overwhelmed and predominantly sorry for myself. I was broke, everyone I know was broke, and the banking system was just for shyte!

But Monday evening I spent a wonderful time chatting and catching up with a friend.

Friday I planned a get together with a couple of friends I hadn’t seen for a while and I’d missed, but one friend in particular couldn’t make it. I was hurt because it was a plan I made in good time, and I felt like as the week progressed I was relegated to a lower spot in her list until I didn’t feature at all.

But I had a wonderful night out with old and new friends.

Saturday was more bank grief and cleaning. This again brought up feelings of resentment. My finances were shitty, my apartment was nothing near where I would have liked it to be, and it seemed like my misfortune was never ending.

But I finished my night with one of the deepest and most honest conversations I’ve had in a while.

Sunday was an adventure of note trying to get to my performance at the Barnyard Theatre. I felt sad because I believe I was let down – and also by the fact that I see no way out of my need to rely on others for help. My mother is always saying there nothing wrong with this, but it bugged me how it felt like it always me who needed help and I couldn’t in turn be the one who offered help.

But I sang.

So what if I lost my cards, or I live in a crappy place, or I have no real money to speak of, or I’m not the center of someone’s attention 24/7. I had a few GOOD moments- and if I wasn’t so preoccupied with the negative, I’d realize that those ‘good’ moments were actually freakin’ GREAT!

Signing off, I’d like to say, take a minute just reflecting. Then focus on the good things – it really does work wonders on how you perceive your life!

SAVE THE MODEL, SAVE THE WORLD!

WTF!?!

I feel funny – like something bad has happened to me, but I don’t know what. I think I’m actually disgusted. Yes, that would be a good description for my emotion. Lemme explain:

I sang last night. Personally I felt it was mediocre, but a good source tells me I have improved since my first performance – M’kay. I can live. Only onwards and upwards I say. I’m pretty stoked for the next performance because I think I can lay down some ground works for pretty stellar stuff. Watch this space hombres!

In celebration of said performance, I went to Ftv – as one usually does on a Wednesday. You know, to break the monotony of the work week, have a drink without people looking at you like you need to pay to talk to someone etc.

Ftv on a Wednesday also happens to be model night. I have nothing against it, because really at the end of the day some of the ‘models’ up in that piece seriously need to reevaluate claiming that profession. So, gussied up, gut sucked in, I prepared to schmooze with the best of the schmoozers.

It’s amazing how being labeled as something ‘special’ makes some people feel entitled to act as bona fide as*h*l*s! Do we not arrive at the VIP and try to sit down before some human rendition of a stick insect shoo’s us like the well fed individuals we were.

a) Why would anyone just walk up to VIP, past the bouncers and try to cop a squat if they were not allowed!?!

b) Not all of us were going to sit there. Besides how much couch does all of a 2cm girth need?

And then after ‘Shoo-gate’, do I not see another emaciated stick figure writhing on the floor – and this is what they call dancing? She was joined by a friend, and I’m actually quite surprised they didn’t start a fire!

I think there should be rules about gyrating in a club. The GyroPolice should arrest you if

a) The world can see your broeks

b) Normal women look at you and their facial expressions flip-flop between awe and disgust.

I mean hey, who doesn’t want a tall dark and handsome male model checking them out, but literally selling your wares is not the way to go…can we all say LA-DY.

Goodness! I was offended in the way an ‘aunt’ would be after seeing her friend’s daughter gallivanting in an unsavory manner. I wanted to go up to them and say “HAYI, hayi, hayi! Ani namahloni! No skaam at all!

These girls are beautiful, they get PAID for looking the way they do, and yet need permeates through their pores! I was disgusted, now in retrospect, I’m just sad. I’m as insecure and neurotic as the next person, even more so, but I think for right now, my self esteem is good!

Ladies, don’t beat yourself up. Don’t denigrate yourselves. Don’t put each other down. Encourage confidence – you never know when someone might think of you as a super role model.

DOUBLE STANDARD?

On my way into work this morning, I saw a very scary dreadlocked fellow wearing highly reflective aviators, standing on the side of the road – the dreadlocks were scary, the aviators were scary – it was just an all-round horrorfest – not a good start to the day – who needs coffee when people can just scare you awake by looking hideous!

Anywho…

He wasn’t a bergie, he was one of those Men On the Side of the Road fellows – you know, they mill about robots in the morning, and then they pile into a bakkie, go do manual labor, be it painting, gardening, more milling but now at your house, for the day and then go home.

Naturally I trivialize their intent and purpose, but it’s purely for arguments sake. I’m sure they’re elevating and finding, and more power to them. But this got me thinking for a split second.

How come ‘Women on the Side of the Road’ are destined to be shunned by society (and sadly me), but men are commended for fighting the good fight?

Technically both sell their bodies (in way). Although manual labor can hardly be compared to performing sexual acts for money – although with some men out there, manual labour would be an understatement.

This sight and then in turn the thought, just made me realize that

a) We’re so quick to pass judgment

b) Some double standards are so ingrained in our minds that we don’t recognize them for what they are.

So now I think, I’m going to be a little more conscientious about what I’m thinking, and just monitor my reactions – not be so quick to shoot off the cuff.

It was something I wanted to share… give you food for thought!

FOCUS

As I nom on a TV Bar (which incidentally is not a very nice chocolate in my opinion, but all I have) I count down the days until Monday and then Wednesday.

Monday is the day I return to the gym, start my new and improved meal plan and proceed to lose another 10 kilos for my next weigh in. It’s going to be tough! It’s going to be fantastic! I’m beside myself with anticipation. Imagine, me, looking forward to pain sparking through my muscles as I push through yet another minute on the elliptical machine. It’s a brand new day I tell you! A brand new day!

Wednesday is my performance – the second ever, and this time I would like to give more of a show. My first performance was good, because:
a) nobody had ever heard me sing before
b) I managed to get through a poem and a song with minimal audible mistakes
c) I was so nervous I’ve blocked it out

But I’d like to be more…well more! I want to be that singer where people say ‘WOW! Now there’s a girl with something. If she keeps it up, she’ll be a star.’

And then I look at a picture of said last performance. It really doesn’t conjure up any awe…of any level…whatsoever. The diva hall of fame closes it’s doors and tisk derisively just thinking about it! I. Look. Hideous. But more than that, I can see the confidence I lack in myself. It’s discouraging, but something I will have to work through.

I’m really trying to carve an image, but with the smut we rub our eyes in, I feel – well I know, I have a long way to go!

I don’t want to be relegated to the sad Fatties Corner of ‘great singers’ or ‘jazz legends’ yet I don’t know how to console myself with the fact that I’ll never really be in the mediocre ‘talentless but hot’ stable either.

If I could, I would belt like J-Hud AND have the ‘bootylicous’ bod of Bey-Bey but alas, neither is my fate. I have to be happy with what the man upstairs bestowed upon me – but it makes me wonder: WHAT WAS HE THINKING?!?!

How could He have sprinkled this need in me, and then made the means and ends so seemingly insurmountable? I guess it’s an answer I’ll only ever get when I march through the pearly gates and ask the main man Himself.

Until then, I’ll just have to keep on keeping on. Hopefully, since I’m aiming for the moon, the stars I land in will be tote-awes-spesh!

STRIKE A POSE

I did some stretching last night – yay!

By stretching I mean I was basically lying about – oh.

I can’t wait to go back to do some intense training. Lawdy! My body actually misses that feeling of ‘oh yeah! I totally rocked the treadmill!’

I am feeling slightly blah, especially about the fact that I’ve gained 2KG – whole ones! EEEEmuthafrickingK! Which puts me BACK in the triple digits, but I figured one week of intervals and proper food, I’ll be back on track.

SIDE NOTE: I’ve been looking at some pictures of…who else but moi, and I’ve decided I NEED to find a new pose – at least one with which to alternate my current one – I like it, it works, tried, tested and true is best, but dang! I’m feeling a little bit like a one trick pony.

The only problem is my face doesn’t look cute pouting, I can’t wink, and a ‘yeah’ open mouth just makes me look hungry. Any candid shots are touch and go…some are good, most are hideous – me looking like a scary fat black girl - This look is only good on a Jerry Springer stage while fighting a no good jail bird baby father’s other baby momma – this image doesn’t make me think Vogue Cover Girl.

What to do? What to do?