76 days to go
I went for something of an unintentionally symbolic run on Sunday. Starting in Rondebosch East I headed over the M5 bridge, right into Milner all the way to the common, circled it (again) before heading down Campground until Lansdowne Rd which took me back over the highway and full circuit to my starting point. A total distance of 11.8 km.
What was interesting about this run (he said as everyone yawned) was that it took me past all my old schools and places of similar relevance when I was younger. Garlandale Primary, where I cut my teeth. Golden Grove Primary, where I lost them all. Groote Schuur High School, where I made friendships I retain to this day. The Vredenhof field where we played countless early morning hockey games. At the common I passed Rustenburg Girls High School, a school ground I’d only visited twice ever, but from which many exceptional girl friends (note the spacing) of mine hail.
It’s a complete novelty for me, running in streets so familiar but so distant. I live in the north but lived my school days in the southern suburbs. It’s entirely stimulating, I was so wrapped in my thoughts and nostalgia that the distance fell with relative ease. All the gripes mentioned in the previous blog were missing. Probably still a little slow, but I was aiming to put in the distance, not the time. It felt right though.
One note though. It may be the case that the Cape Flats are entirely too true to their name to be an effective training ground, much as they were a great playground for young me. There’s little challenge in the small climbs offered over the distance. There are no long drags, no true tests for the will. So I think I’m going back to my hilly north. Asap.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Hard-steppin'
79 days to go
The Rondebosch Common is a curious piece of land. At a the width of little more than a rugby field and not much longer than three, I'd wager it's one of the smallest conservation areas in the country. And certainly one of the more uninspiring, a dry patch of bush in the middle of a busy suburb.
See? Eat your heart out. Anyway, it's a popular spot for walkers, joggers and runners alike and it's flat all round, which was exactly why I chose this locale to do some speedwork in. I arrived at the Common on what turned out to be a sweltering evening. The Celtics Running Club use the Common for their time trials and, as I understand it, they circle the Common twice for a distance of 5km. So my aim was to circle the common at least twice and see how it felt. No timing, just spinning the legs out.
About 1.5 laps in, a few things started to go wrong. Firstly, my breathing was too rapid, a fact which might be attributed to the stifling heat but more likely came from a furious start and a festive season which was entirely too restive. Next my left hamstring started to pull, I've never had hamstring problems before. Cramping calves, side stitches and a bum knee yes, but no hamstring. It's a concern I'll have to keep and eye out for. Lastly I became increasingly aware of the feeling of the ground on my feet and my shoes began to creak, a sure sign that they (my third pair of Nike Air Pegasus in as many years) need to be replaced.
I didn't time myself but my guess is my time was around 25 minutes, terribly slow. I could blame the heat and will test the condiitons next week but it's likely the lazy holiday passed that's to blame. Ideally, the 5km time for a silver half marathon runner (and that's what I'm aiming for) should be 20 minutes or less.
So. Short term goals: Shave 5 minutes off 5km time; buy new shoes; resolve to stretch before runs and start slower.
Today I rest, going ice-skating with some friends, which should actually test out the leg muscles quite nicely. More after the next run.
The Rondebosch Common is a curious piece of land. At a the width of little more than a rugby field and not much longer than three, I'd wager it's one of the smallest conservation areas in the country. And certainly one of the more uninspiring, a dry patch of bush in the middle of a busy suburb.
See? Eat your heart out. Anyway, it's a popular spot for walkers, joggers and runners alike and it's flat all round, which was exactly why I chose this locale to do some speedwork in. I arrived at the Common on what turned out to be a sweltering evening. The Celtics Running Club use the Common for their time trials and, as I understand it, they circle the Common twice for a distance of 5km. So my aim was to circle the common at least twice and see how it felt. No timing, just spinning the legs out.
About 1.5 laps in, a few things started to go wrong. Firstly, my breathing was too rapid, a fact which might be attributed to the stifling heat but more likely came from a furious start and a festive season which was entirely too restive. Next my left hamstring started to pull, I've never had hamstring problems before. Cramping calves, side stitches and a bum knee yes, but no hamstring. It's a concern I'll have to keep and eye out for. Lastly I became increasingly aware of the feeling of the ground on my feet and my shoes began to creak, a sure sign that they (my third pair of Nike Air Pegasus in as many years) need to be replaced.
I didn't time myself but my guess is my time was around 25 minutes, terribly slow. I could blame the heat and will test the condiitons next week but it's likely the lazy holiday passed that's to blame. Ideally, the 5km time for a silver half marathon runner (and that's what I'm aiming for) should be 20 minutes or less.
So. Short term goals: Shave 5 minutes off 5km time; buy new shoes; resolve to stretch before runs and start slower.
Today I rest, going ice-skating with some friends, which should actually test out the leg muscles quite nicely. More after the next run.
80 days of Training
I begin this blog with a lie. There are, in fact, 79 days of training (including today) left before the Two Oceans Marathon on April 3 2010, but I started my training in earnest yesterday and that's the direction this blog will take until the race is over.
Whoops, my last paragraph was misleading. I'm not running the Two Oceans Marathon, I'm running the Two Oceans Half Marathon. The Half (as she shall now be affectionately known) is a scenic 21km run starting in Main Road Newlands and ending on UCT's main rugby field. She is extremely popular, fielding about 11 000 runners annually and widely considered to be the toughest half you can run in the beautiful city of Cape Town.
San Tzu advocates that you know your enemy and I know her well. Here's her profile:
You're looking at a rather twisty warm up climb for the first three kilometers, which makes for some excitement (there's nothing more dull that beginning a race on a dead straight). We even out near Wynberg and into Constantia. Around the 11k mark there's the 3km steady incline climb known as Southern Cross. It's here where the men are separated from the boys (I'm not trying to be sexist - I've had grannies beat me up that hill). Many will walk, many hit their 10k training wall, many lose their breathing rhythm and their pace. If you've never run a half before and decided on the Two Oceans 'just for the hell of it', this is the point where you start thinking 'baaaaaaad idea'. Once over, you're rewarded with a refreshing downhill at Kirstenbosch but don't be fooled, Union Avenue holds one last teasing climb before you ease into the finish. Anyone's whose run this race will tell you that, at least on the first try, that last climb caught them completely off guard.
So training for this race you need to bring your artillery. Pacework to take full advantage of the first 10ks, hill training for Southern Cross, and overall distance training to get the body acclimatised (so to speak) and the mind ready for a long haul.
Although the picture is not pretty, let it be said that there's an aweful lots of pleasure mixed in with this pain. An incredible sense of comeraderie amongst runners in the field, unwavering and enthusiastic support from the crowds, the beauty of our mountain and our city and, of course, the high that comes after the work is put in and the fruits of labour are yours.
Whoops, my last paragraph was misleading. I'm not running the Two Oceans Marathon, I'm running the Two Oceans Half Marathon. The Half (as she shall now be affectionately known) is a scenic 21km run starting in Main Road Newlands and ending on UCT's main rugby field. She is extremely popular, fielding about 11 000 runners annually and widely considered to be the toughest half you can run in the beautiful city of Cape Town.
San Tzu advocates that you know your enemy and I know her well. Here's her profile:
You're looking at a rather twisty warm up climb for the first three kilometers, which makes for some excitement (there's nothing more dull that beginning a race on a dead straight). We even out near Wynberg and into Constantia. Around the 11k mark there's the 3km steady incline climb known as Southern Cross. It's here where the men are separated from the boys (I'm not trying to be sexist - I've had grannies beat me up that hill). Many will walk, many hit their 10k training wall, many lose their breathing rhythm and their pace. If you've never run a half before and decided on the Two Oceans 'just for the hell of it', this is the point where you start thinking 'baaaaaaad idea'. Once over, you're rewarded with a refreshing downhill at Kirstenbosch but don't be fooled, Union Avenue holds one last teasing climb before you ease into the finish. Anyone's whose run this race will tell you that, at least on the first try, that last climb caught them completely off guard.
So training for this race you need to bring your artillery. Pacework to take full advantage of the first 10ks, hill training for Southern Cross, and overall distance training to get the body acclimatised (so to speak) and the mind ready for a long haul.
Although the picture is not pretty, let it be said that there's an aweful lots of pleasure mixed in with this pain. An incredible sense of comeraderie amongst runners in the field, unwavering and enthusiastic support from the crowds, the beauty of our mountain and our city and, of course, the high that comes after the work is put in and the fruits of labour are yours.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Parly's alright
Over the last few weeks I've had the fantastic opportunity of working in Parliament for an NGO (part time) and, having sat in on a handful of meetings, I must express that I am surprised at the acuity, insight and commitment shown by our indirectly elected officials. This is something that I feel needs to be said. On a typical day in suburbia you get so used to the administration-bashing that you expect, at best, that there's a secret bordello lurking behind the black gates of Parliament *dum dum dum*...
While the MPs do wear pressed suits and drive silver Mercs, their attitudes could not be more humbled, for the most part they both do their work and kid around. Not kid around in the vein of Office manager David Brent (bi' of an obscure reference wot?). What I mean is: they take their work seriously but not themselves and that's novel for people wielding that much influence. I managed to approach several MPs and extract documents/information from them. Most met me with a smile and an unfunny, but well-intentioned, quip.
The meetings themselves are conducted in an ordered fashion, this I wasn't surprised at. I've seen some of the Parliament TV (speaker! speaker!) and there is not much tolerance for speaking out of turn. Contrary to what we are sometimes led to believe, ANC MPs do not toe-the-line while opposition parties rant and rave. Some time ago I read Andrew Feinstein's "After the Party" where he noted how there was a tendency among party MPs to not object to the government policy - he found it strange and now I see why. I saw none of that particular acquiescence in my sittings. The ANC members are as vigorously critical of policy as the opposition, sometimes more so. Most importantly, all parties place first the concerns of the everyman into question. The specifics would bore you to death but I was concerned with budget issues of late and, for example, the question of business and corporate concession was foremost in the concerns raised by the members. They would not see benefits granted without details on how this benefit trickled down to the workforce. Bravo I say.
And they are sharp as tacks to boot. I was overwhelmed taking on the challenge of trying to prepare critical questions of my own while paying attention to the presentations. They had more time to prepare than I had but still... I'd wager I haven't met an MP as dumb as I felt sitting in those meetings.
To be fair, it isn't all rosy, of course it isn't. There's an air of rhetoric to many of the processes “must investigate...” “will take further...” “should implement...” and the like. You also get the feeling that the business of government is very slow with all the delayed actions and interdepartmental references. I've arrived to find meetings cancelled quite abruptly. I've gone to presentations where departments have not pitched up. I've been to a presentation where the department was not properly prepared. In that instance though it was pleasant to have the chairperson dole out what-for on the unprepared party... or person rather, party is ambiguous in this context. People will let you down, occasionally but its far from the incompetent we're sometimes let to believe by the talk round the water cooler.
And again, I just thought I'd share that.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Small thoughts on 'Happy-Go-Lucky'
So I had the distinct pleasure of watching 'Happy-Go-Lucky' yesterday and all I can say is... Sally Hawkins was robbed! I cannot believe that such a nuanced (yet altogether pithy) performance was missed by the Academy. On the whole it's a well structured film and, we can take some solace in this, received a nomination for Best Original Screenplay, which I would be happy to see Mike Leigh walk away with. I mean, if Diablo Cody could get one....
For those not in the loop, Happy-Go-Lucky is a film that falls within the parameters of social observation... I think... I'm not a film student, the correct jargon is not at my disposal. Anyway, it's the kind of film that introduces a (pseudo) novel concept to an ordinary situation and attempts to find what develops organically. Our concept in this film is Poppy, an irrepressible 30-year old preschool teacher. She seems to be in a permanent state of joviality regardless of the gravity of a given situation. She is robbed, she has to cope with an abusive pupil, and an even more abusive driving instructor. We see the ways in which her particular brand of extroversion affects those around her, sometimes negatively, sometimes positively. More pertinently, it is a reflection on the dispositions of others when we encounter a friendly face. Do we seek do repress it? Do we reciprocate? Do we ignore it? Can we even understand it anymore?
And Hawkins carries the entire film, the camera is fixated on her for, easily, 90% of the running time. Its a weighty demand, even for a lead, and she's infallible. Poppy is an eccentric character with flighty quirks and phrasing. I once sat in on a conversation between some of SA's more esteemed critics: Barry Ronge, Leon van Nierop, ... that guy who I always confuse with Leon van Nierop... and they mused that the particularly eccentric characters were easier to pull off – they were talking about Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker (which I also take issue with, but another time) – but I think it depends on how the eccentricity is carried out. Poppy is consistently irrepressible, yes, but when she finds herself in an unsafe situation, she visibly clutches her handbag to her chest and murmurs to herself. When she finds herself attracted to someone, her head bows and her voice trails. When she does find herself pulled into a confrontation, the smiling stops but the her message remains intact. That's really as much as I can say without spoiling it. Poppy is always a real character, the thing that makes her unique is we see her actively make the choice to be spirited and lively.
Eddie Marsan deserves a special mention for his turn as Poppy's racist, misogynistic, paranoid and altogether sociopathic driving instructor – a well-crafted foil to the exuberant Poppy, superbly executed by the actor.
So that's just something I thought I'd share, I felt like spoiling some virtual paper today, take it or leave it. I wouldn't recommend this film to most of my friends but if it sounds like your cuppa, you wont be disappointed. There are some incredible (looking) films opening within the next fortnight. Personally I cannot wait for The Wrestler, Slumdog Millionaire (especially), Changeling and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Let the good times roll!
PS. I don't mean to rag on Diablo Cody, I loved Juno. I just think if Juno was good enough this one should be too.
Friday, August 1, 2008
Stolen away
Grand Farewells
It was with more than a little trepidation that I opened the door to Office Johannesburg for the last time that Friday morning. Everything looked the same, only it felt completely different. I was the first person in the office and I hastily cleared my desk. There was not much to be done and an empty gym bag held what was left of my professional possessions.
Thankfully, M-lite walks in and we can get the ball rolling on the plan for the day. That is: once she gets herself rolling. I sit and wait for her to perform her ablutionary excursion, complete with loitering greetings to the help staff. I sit and wait with a kind of rueful familiarity - this was the last time I'd wait for her before an outing and I reminisce on the waiting that had so characterised (at least a part of) our relationship. The night before this morning M-lite, her beau, Sophia and myself had enjoyed a few late night drinks in my 'honour'... i suppose. I will say with no shame that if nothing else I danced my way out of Joburg, and I am grateful I got to party with everyone before I left.
When M-lite and I return. I find a book and a tiny card on my desk, a most thoughtful gift from Certain Someone and immediately stalk about the building to find her. She's sitting at her desk and taps away lightly at her keyboard.
"Thanks for the gift, that's really great of you."
"Well we both love books and we both really wanted to see the movie so it seemed like the perfect gift."
"It was, really, thanks."
We hug and I take it all in for the last time. The girl I was crazy about. The gift she's given me was so thoughtful - if I take nothing else away from my experience with her over the year past, at least I did "crush the best one of the best ones" - and that will always be my song for her.
I have to move on to the day's procedure though so I return to floor and I have my last post-mortem. I'm not really listening, everything discussed here would all be academic to me in a few short hours.
"Anyone want to add anything?" Deputy asks as the conversation winds down.
I clear my throat, suddenly awkward. "I don't have anything to add but if we're wrapping up I'd like to, um... we'd like to.. do something else."
"Floor's yours," Deputy shrugs.
"Thank you." I move to front and center and deliver a thank you to our internship co-ordinator, Chief, on behalf of the interns. I'm a closet orator and spoke for a tight 7 minutes, it was my own way of saying goodbye without saying goodbye. We eat cake after and i say my more personal goodbyes.
After shakes with my fellow interns at the cafe I decide it's time to walk away, goodbyes can drag and I'm frankly terrible at them. Sugar is also on her way out and offers to walk with me to the parking lot. Sugar had been my best friend in the work environment and there was nothing I hadn't/couldn't tell her and vice versa.
"How are you feeling?" she asks in that way which means I can't just reply by saying 'i'm cool'
"I feel... like I might carry a few regrets but that I can live with them."
"I know what you mean. But you're going to be better off."
"I know, I wouldn't go if I didn't think that was the case. I'm just gonna miss..." I struggle for the words, "this chapter."
She looks at me quizically.
"You know, like if my life were a book, I'd miss this chapter
"But there's so much more to come."
"Uh huh," I feel this goodbye is beginning to go down that emotional road and so I steer it clear. "Okay I must go now, I'll be in touch. Try not to miss me too much."
She laughs.
"Or laugh at me too much." I tease.
"Okay my friend."
On the Road
The next morning I picked up parental unit XY at the airport and we begin the long trek South. Johannesburg shows me what she's made of one last time by getting me hopelessly lost on the way out. I wonder briefly at the irony of all that as we finally see the right signs. Parental Unit XY catches me up on everything that's happening at home with the extended family and we comment sporadically on the remarks on the radio. PUXY and I have always gotten on very well and I don't think I'd be an even remotely well adjusted person had he not understood me the way he has over the years. No trip with him would be complete without the Beatles and we sing along to our favourites which makes the experience all the more enjoyable... and hard on the throat.
We stop at Colesberg, the middle of everything in the country, I feel. It's cold and empty. By the time we get there the streets had been rolled up and there was nothing else to do except go sleep. We ate at a fast food outlet which had surprisingly great imitation KFC and watched a Bond film (another firm favourite for myself and PUXY). As I lay in bed, early on a Friday night I thought about where I was. The middle. Halfway between where I was and where I was headed. 100% sure about my past and 100% unsure of my future. Scared and excited, I am two-face Dent.
We set out early the next day, at 4am to be precise. PUXY comes to my room and asks if I'm still asleep. I'd barely splept during the night so I answer in the affirmative and we head off earlier than expected. The stars are still out over the Great Karoo as we ride the barren road. So many stars... the clear dust of the milky way was visible in the night sky and we bothdistinctly noticed one shooting star cross the plain.
"Make a wish." PUXY asserts.
I think about the fact that I was only a few minutes away from the middle of everything and sigh, not knowing what I want.
"I wish for a safe journey." I say.
"You not supposed to tell me."
"Well then I guess we're doomed." I joke.
We encounter horrible weather in the mountains of the Western Cape. The torrent does however make for gorgeous waterfall viewing on along the ridges and we savour the slow ride.
The cloud cleared as we hit the home stretch, Cape Town and the mountain, my mountain, stretches horizontally across the horizon, embracing the city, welcoming me back into her arms. It started to feel right just then and the tamult of leaving was gone. I am home now and I'm with my people - I'm off to meet them now, I can't wait for you to meet all of them as well. If my blog is called On the Road thanks to Jack Kerouc, the Cape Town crowd are the crazy ones which I'd take over anyone else any day. Here I go...
It was with more than a little trepidation that I opened the door to Office Johannesburg for the last time that Friday morning. Everything looked the same, only it felt completely different. I was the first person in the office and I hastily cleared my desk. There was not much to be done and an empty gym bag held what was left of my professional possessions.
Thankfully, M-lite walks in and we can get the ball rolling on the plan for the day. That is: once she gets herself rolling. I sit and wait for her to perform her ablutionary excursion, complete with loitering greetings to the help staff. I sit and wait with a kind of rueful familiarity - this was the last time I'd wait for her before an outing and I reminisce on the waiting that had so characterised (at least a part of) our relationship. The night before this morning M-lite, her beau, Sophia and myself had enjoyed a few late night drinks in my 'honour'... i suppose. I will say with no shame that if nothing else I danced my way out of Joburg, and I am grateful I got to party with everyone before I left.
When M-lite and I return. I find a book and a tiny card on my desk, a most thoughtful gift from Certain Someone and immediately stalk about the building to find her. She's sitting at her desk and taps away lightly at her keyboard.
"Thanks for the gift, that's really great of you."
"Well we both love books and we both really wanted to see the movie so it seemed like the perfect gift."
"It was, really, thanks."
We hug and I take it all in for the last time. The girl I was crazy about. The gift she's given me was so thoughtful - if I take nothing else away from my experience with her over the year past, at least I did "crush the best one of the best ones" - and that will always be my song for her.
I have to move on to the day's procedure though so I return to floor and I have my last post-mortem. I'm not really listening, everything discussed here would all be academic to me in a few short hours.
"Anyone want to add anything?" Deputy asks as the conversation winds down.
I clear my throat, suddenly awkward. "I don't have anything to add but if we're wrapping up I'd like to, um... we'd like to.. do something else."
"Floor's yours," Deputy shrugs.
"Thank you." I move to front and center and deliver a thank you to our internship co-ordinator, Chief, on behalf of the interns. I'm a closet orator and spoke for a tight 7 minutes, it was my own way of saying goodbye without saying goodbye. We eat cake after and i say my more personal goodbyes.
After shakes with my fellow interns at the cafe I decide it's time to walk away, goodbyes can drag and I'm frankly terrible at them. Sugar is also on her way out and offers to walk with me to the parking lot. Sugar had been my best friend in the work environment and there was nothing I hadn't/couldn't tell her and vice versa.
"How are you feeling?" she asks in that way which means I can't just reply by saying 'i'm cool'
"I feel... like I might carry a few regrets but that I can live with them."
"I know what you mean. But you're going to be better off."
"I know, I wouldn't go if I didn't think that was the case. I'm just gonna miss..." I struggle for the words, "this chapter."
She looks at me quizically.
"You know, like if my life were a book, I'd miss this chapter
"But there's so much more to come."
"Uh huh," I feel this goodbye is beginning to go down that emotional road and so I steer it clear. "Okay I must go now, I'll be in touch. Try not to miss me too much."
She laughs.
"Or laugh at me too much." I tease.
"Okay my friend."
On the Road
The next morning I picked up parental unit XY at the airport and we begin the long trek South. Johannesburg shows me what she's made of one last time by getting me hopelessly lost on the way out. I wonder briefly at the irony of all that as we finally see the right signs. Parental Unit XY catches me up on everything that's happening at home with the extended family and we comment sporadically on the remarks on the radio. PUXY and I have always gotten on very well and I don't think I'd be an even remotely well adjusted person had he not understood me the way he has over the years. No trip with him would be complete without the Beatles and we sing along to our favourites which makes the experience all the more enjoyable... and hard on the throat.
We stop at Colesberg, the middle of everything in the country, I feel. It's cold and empty. By the time we get there the streets had been rolled up and there was nothing else to do except go sleep. We ate at a fast food outlet which had surprisingly great imitation KFC and watched a Bond film (another firm favourite for myself and PUXY). As I lay in bed, early on a Friday night I thought about where I was. The middle. Halfway between where I was and where I was headed. 100% sure about my past and 100% unsure of my future. Scared and excited, I am two-face Dent.
We set out early the next day, at 4am to be precise. PUXY comes to my room and asks if I'm still asleep. I'd barely splept during the night so I answer in the affirmative and we head off earlier than expected. The stars are still out over the Great Karoo as we ride the barren road. So many stars... the clear dust of the milky way was visible in the night sky and we bothdistinctly noticed one shooting star cross the plain.
"Make a wish." PUXY asserts.
I think about the fact that I was only a few minutes away from the middle of everything and sigh, not knowing what I want.
"I wish for a safe journey." I say.
"You not supposed to tell me."
"Well then I guess we're doomed." I joke.
We encounter horrible weather in the mountains of the Western Cape. The torrent does however make for gorgeous waterfall viewing on along the ridges and we savour the slow ride.
The cloud cleared as we hit the home stretch, Cape Town and the mountain, my mountain, stretches horizontally across the horizon, embracing the city, welcoming me back into her arms. It started to feel right just then and the tamult of leaving was gone. I am home now and I'm with my people - I'm off to meet them now, I can't wait for you to meet all of them as well. If my blog is called On the Road thanks to Jack Kerouc, the Cape Town crowd are the crazy ones which I'd take over anyone else any day. Here I go...
Monday, July 7, 2008
.. and now for the exciting conclusion!
Now that I have your attention! Back to the story...
Cutefishing
Let me begin with a disclaimer. I referred to a really gorgeous girl as being a 'cutefish' in my last post. This is not to imply that her face resembles a fish's (though that would be cute in my book). Instead it is a reference to the old adage that women are like fish in the sea and there are plenty of them. Every so often, however, you look through the sea and one fish strikes you as being a particularly appealing. She is a cutefish, the pursuit of said fish is what is known as cutefishing.
I spent my last three nights in Grahamstown cutefishing. I scoured the heads of every bar I walked into looking for that telltale blonde streak but to no avail. Cutefish got away, but I did meet a few more interesting folk. I cannot round off my festival account without a mention of Gillian. Gillian comes in as Will's best mate and I felt some pressure to impress her. We spoke at some length about each other's backgrounds and found common ground in deriding Will's female predations. I suspect that if I'd hung around town as long as Will had, Gill and I would get along famously.
Man on Fire
The first time I attended the festival it was as a performer. I was part of a 30 person dance /drama ensemble and we played to a modest audience. So I was surprised to find myself at the arse end of a long queue to get tickets to my old troupe's newest festival offering. Mind you, it has been 9 years. As I walk in the door I see the familiar face of our choreographer on top of the bleachers, she's fussing over the sound technician.
"Hello Auntie G," I call up to her.
She leers over the ramparts and surprise registers on her face. "Beautiful to see you my child." she responds.
I must admit to drifting during the performance. With all the familiar faces on stage I traipsed carelessly down memory lane. I remembered the shy boy who, out of desperation, decided to join a performance group. I wondered at my old shell and how I'd ultimately changed through dance. After the show I congratulate Auntie G and tell her how good it was to see the group in action again.
"Oh my boy, if they had to see you backstage they'd go mad. 'pick 'n pay!', 'little mermaid!'." she laughs. (inside jokes)
I laugh along, not trusting myself to go backstage. "Tell them i say hi then"
My way
The parental unit spent a day with me in Grahamstown and we went to see a few shows as well as visit the market. In small doses, the parental unit is endearing and it was probably this visit that showed me the way to the future.
At my current place of employ I have been informed that the position I wanted to fill is no longer open, in short, the incumbent is staying. Regardless, I have been offered a three month provisional extension to find a new way at the paper. I went to my alma mater (nourishing mother i.e. old university), saw my old dance group, my old friends and my aging parents, all to look back at looking forward.
If you have a different opinion on this let me know but to me, I don't think you can know where you're going until you're sure of where you've been. An everyday mistake, for example, will repeat until your behavior under the circumstances changes. So you need to look back in order to take forward action. Make sense?
The thing that occurred to me, being back at Rhodes, was that when I'd left I was ready to leave. I sat on that monument, writing that note (see previous post) saying "I must go, i know I must go". When I wrote my note leaving Cape Town I said, and I quote: "This wonderful opportunity could not have come at a more inopportune time." I had rushed off for a name and a job but I wasn't ready to go. Now, for the first time in a year, I was faced with the prospect of going back. So it came down to this: I know I wasn't ready to leave home when i did, so I should go back. But am I ready to leave Johannesburg now?
I walked around Grahamstown one sunny day and fought the cheesy notion of heading up to the monument to soul-search. Instead I sat on the lawns and looked at the old clock tower. I pictured my fond farewell to the monument two years ago. I then imagined saying goodbye to Table Mountain and my heart broke. I then pictured the scenes and faces of Joburg and stuck my tongue out nonchalantly.
And the short of it is: I'm going home. I will not be extending my contract and yes, I feel ready to leave this place. I will be on the road again soon.
Cutefishing
Let me begin with a disclaimer. I referred to a really gorgeous girl as being a 'cutefish' in my last post. This is not to imply that her face resembles a fish's (though that would be cute in my book). Instead it is a reference to the old adage that women are like fish in the sea and there are plenty of them. Every so often, however, you look through the sea and one fish strikes you as being a particularly appealing. She is a cutefish, the pursuit of said fish is what is known as cutefishing.
I spent my last three nights in Grahamstown cutefishing. I scoured the heads of every bar I walked into looking for that telltale blonde streak but to no avail. Cutefish got away, but I did meet a few more interesting folk. I cannot round off my festival account without a mention of Gillian. Gillian comes in as Will's best mate and I felt some pressure to impress her. We spoke at some length about each other's backgrounds and found common ground in deriding Will's female predations. I suspect that if I'd hung around town as long as Will had, Gill and I would get along famously.
Man on Fire
The first time I attended the festival it was as a performer. I was part of a 30 person dance /drama ensemble and we played to a modest audience. So I was surprised to find myself at the arse end of a long queue to get tickets to my old troupe's newest festival offering. Mind you, it has been 9 years. As I walk in the door I see the familiar face of our choreographer on top of the bleachers, she's fussing over the sound technician.
"Hello Auntie G," I call up to her.
She leers over the ramparts and surprise registers on her face. "Beautiful to see you my child." she responds.
I must admit to drifting during the performance. With all the familiar faces on stage I traipsed carelessly down memory lane. I remembered the shy boy who, out of desperation, decided to join a performance group. I wondered at my old shell and how I'd ultimately changed through dance. After the show I congratulate Auntie G and tell her how good it was to see the group in action again.
"Oh my boy, if they had to see you backstage they'd go mad. 'pick 'n pay!', 'little mermaid!'." she laughs. (inside jokes)
I laugh along, not trusting myself to go backstage. "Tell them i say hi then"
My way
The parental unit spent a day with me in Grahamstown and we went to see a few shows as well as visit the market. In small doses, the parental unit is endearing and it was probably this visit that showed me the way to the future.
At my current place of employ I have been informed that the position I wanted to fill is no longer open, in short, the incumbent is staying. Regardless, I have been offered a three month provisional extension to find a new way at the paper. I went to my alma mater (nourishing mother i.e. old university), saw my old dance group, my old friends and my aging parents, all to look back at looking forward.
If you have a different opinion on this let me know but to me, I don't think you can know where you're going until you're sure of where you've been. An everyday mistake, for example, will repeat until your behavior under the circumstances changes. So you need to look back in order to take forward action. Make sense?
The thing that occurred to me, being back at Rhodes, was that when I'd left I was ready to leave. I sat on that monument, writing that note (see previous post) saying "I must go, i know I must go". When I wrote my note leaving Cape Town I said, and I quote: "This wonderful opportunity could not have come at a more inopportune time." I had rushed off for a name and a job but I wasn't ready to go. Now, for the first time in a year, I was faced with the prospect of going back. So it came down to this: I know I wasn't ready to leave home when i did, so I should go back. But am I ready to leave Johannesburg now?
I walked around Grahamstown one sunny day and fought the cheesy notion of heading up to the monument to soul-search. Instead I sat on the lawns and looked at the old clock tower. I pictured my fond farewell to the monument two years ago. I then imagined saying goodbye to Table Mountain and my heart broke. I then pictured the scenes and faces of Joburg and stuck my tongue out nonchalantly.
And the short of it is: I'm going home. I will not be extending my contract and yes, I feel ready to leave this place. I will be on the road again soon.
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